We're back! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Reviews seem promising. I know this is a niche crossover, but I'm glad to see some people are reading it, and I'm even happier to know that some are enjoying it.

The Great Hall's four house banners had been swapped out with the coats of arms of the three schools, and the tables had been regrouped into three rows. Somehow, the Castle had managed to adjust the Hall's dimensions to accommodate the new arrangement.

Tintin and Haddock followed Madame Maxime down the aisle towards the Staff Table. Tintin recognized the majority of the staff and gave a wave to Professor Flitwick. They'd met at an international dueling competition where the diminutive professor took first place.

At the end of the table, beside Maxime's empty chair, sat Igor Karkaroff. Tintin tried to keep his expression neutral, but the captain didn't bother to hide his fury. "He has a lot of nerve showing his face around here," Haddock whispered, his wand hand tingling.

"Please don't attack a member of the faculty in front of the students," Tintin replied.

"Or at least wait until after lunch," Maxime added. Fortunately, Karkaroff had taken one look at the captain's expression and fled the room.

"Ah, Mr. Tintin!" Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stood from his chair and held out his arms in greeting. "So pleased to see a member of the international press covering the event." He gestured to the man beside him. "I believe you already know Msr. Remi."

A middle-aged man with a receding chin and thinning grey-blonde hair stood and grinned. "There he is! My greatest creation!" A wry smile creased the corners of his mouth. "Glad you could come to lend me a hand."

Tintin gave a small bow and shook the man's hand. "Hello, Msr. Remi."

Remi laughed. "What's with the royal greeting?" the man asked. "You're my equal now, Tintin, not my apprentice."

"Of course...though calling you Georges would take some getting used to."

"Then call me Herge—everyone else does." He put his hand on Tintin's shoulder and grinned. "Good to see you, son. It'll be wonderful to have a translator to assist me. Not everyone can speak French like Director Dumbledore here."

Dumbledore nodded. "Mr. Herge here was telling me all about your recent adventure in the Orient. For a young man, you have had quite the storied life." Dumbledore looked over at Haddock. "Archibald, my, my, how long has it been since we last saw one another?"

"It was '82, I think," Haddock replied. "During the Lestrange trial."

"Ah, yes. We meet again in better circumstances. Alastor is around somewhere. I'm sure you'd have some stories to tell."

Haddock grinned. "I bet." He looked over at Tintin. "Mad-Eye and I were partners in many a scrap.

"You were also good drinking partners," Dumbledore noted.

"Aye, we got into quite a lot of trouble together," Haddock said. "When you meet him, be sure to ask him how he lost his eye."

Tintin grimaced. "I don't think I will."

"Now that we've caught up, I'm sure you are hungry from your trip," Dumbledore gestured to an empty seat beside Herge. "Archibald, you may sit here. Tintin, I expect you'd like to join your fellow students."

Tintin nodded and turned to approach the Beauxbatons table. "Look!" Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve to get his attention. "It's Tintin and Haddock."

"Why are they here?" Harry asked.

"They're here for you, I expect."

Harry groaned and went back to pushing his food around the plate.

Tintin took an empty place at the Beauxbatons table and helped himself to a chicken leg, smuggling some choice cuts to Snowy under the table. A few of the students recognized him and smiled. "So the Great Reporter graces us with his presence," a boy in his year said.

Tintin grinned. "I've been ignoring my studies for too long. Maxime called the aurors to bring me in for truancy."

"Right, and the Tournament has nothing to do with it."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Where's Fleur?"

"Right behind you." Fleur Delacour leaned over and wrapped him in a hug.

"Fleur, how nice to see you," Tintin turned and kissed her cheek. "And you as well, Gabrielle."

The two girls huffed. "Is that all? 'Nice to see you?'" They took a seat on either side of him. "How is it our natural charms have no effect on you?" Gabrielle asked

"I can't imagine why," Tintin replied as he made them each a plate. "How was your summer?"

Fleur gave an immaculate Gallic shrug. "Dull. We spent a month on the Riviera."

"All the boys were dreadful flirts," Gabrielle added.

"Such a bother being magically irresistible," Tintin said with a smirk.

"What about your summer, mon limier? Your adventures make everyone else's summers seem positively banal. While we were at the beach or in the Alps you were single-handedly nabbing dragon smugglers in Shanghai."

"I didn't do that alone," Tintin said modestly. "I had Snowy and the Captain to help me."

Gabrielle leaned down and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. "Yes, everyone needs a voice of reason to keep them in check. Isn't that right, Milou?" The terrier gave a bark in agreement; if he were a bird, he'd be strutting like a peacock.

"Congratulations on becoming school champion, by the way."

"Congratulations?" Fleur ran a hand across her face. "Are you being smart with me? I haven't slept in days! Do you know what our first task is?" She leaned in close. "Dragons."

Tintin's eyes went wide. "You're joking." Fleur shook her head. "Who thought that was a good idea?"

"This whole contest is starting to seem like one big mistake. You've heard about Potter?"

"Of course he has," Gabrielle said. "Why else would he bother to be here?"

"Is this true?"

Tintin smiled. "I follow the news, Mlle. That I get to see you again is a pleasant bonus."

Fleur grinned. "You've always been too curious for your own good, mon curieux. Don't let it get you in trouble."

"When have I ever gotten myself in trouble?" Tintin asked.

"Remember the school trip to Syldavia?"

"Ah, touche."

"Yes, what was supposed to be a simple school outing turned into a major diplomatic incident, all because you couldn't keep your nose out of the Bordurian conflict. Good thing I was there to offer my expertise."

"It was completely unnecessary."

"You would've been shot by that border guard if I hadn't intervened with some wandwork. If you spent more time in school, you'd learn some defense."

"Wit over Wands, Fleur, and I can take care of myself perfectly well, thank you very much."

Gabrielle snorted. "More like Witless and Wandless."

Tintin threw up his hands. "I'm outnumbered!"

The two sisters laughed and wrapped him in a hug. "Welcome back, Tintin."

After lunch, Harry went to the library and found a well-hidden study table behind the stacks. He'd told Hermione he was preparing for the first challenge, but in reality he was studying up on a certain reporter:

To Haddock's surprise and mine, Thompson and Thomson's hair and moustaches started growing at a near impossible rate. To further add to the spectacle, their hair began to change color, first green, then pink, then mauve, and so on and so on.

Whatever it was that the Twins had drank, it was not your run-of-the-mill Pepper-Up potion.

We had little time to reflect on this strange occurrence, as the laboratory doors blew off their hinges and Professor Müller and his bodyguard charged in shouting curses.

A dog's bark made Harry start. Snowy had rounded a corner in the stacks and was looking at Harry with interesrt. He barked again, and Harry heard footsteps on the stone floor coming towards him. Harry put the book into his bag just as Tintin appeared. "Ah, there you are. Hermione said you'd be here."

Harry scowled. "Hermione wasn't supposed to say anything. If you're here for an interview, I'm not in the mood."

The reporter held out his hands to show he carried no notebook and quill. "I'm off the clock. Nothing we say will make the front pages tomorrow. May I sit down?" Harry reluctantly agreed. "You've had quite the school year so far," Tintin said lightly. "Do you look for trouble, or does trouble find you?"

"I just wanted a quiet year," Harry said with a groan. "Seems fate has it in for me. What about you? From your books, it seems like you're always getting into some sort of mixup."

Tintin nodded. "It's my job to get into trouble, although my editor says I tend to make news rather than report it." He cocked his head. "You've been reading my books?"

"A few," Harry admitted, blushing. "If you don't mind me asking, is Tintin your real name?"

Tintin laughed and shook his head. "It's a nom de plume. It's better if people don't know my real name."

"Why? Is it safer?"

Tintin grimaced. "Sure, let's go with that." Beside the table was a window overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Workers were busy setting it up for the first Task. "Are you ready for tomorrow?" He asked.

"Not at all. I still can't believe they're making us fight dragons."

"I'm sure you won't fight them," Tintins replied. "Most dragons are endangered species, and even the Ministry of Magic isn't that stupid...I hope."

Harry sighed. "Apparently I'm supposed to be interviewed by the Prophet tomorrow, before the Task." Tintin gave a snort. "What?"

"They'll probably send in Skeeter," Tintin's voice dripped with disdain. "She's their star 'reporter', if you believe a word she writes."

"What do you mean?"

"She uses a Quick-Quotes Quill." He noticed Harry's confusion. "It's an auto-dictation quill. Only Skeeter and the worst gossip mags use them. They tend to 'enrich' the story."

"Great. Do you use one?"

Tintin looked slightly offended. "Of course not. I write facts, not fiction."

"Will it be that bad?"

"I expect it will. You're a star, Harry, and she'll do whatever she can to make sure you make good copy."

"Is there any way I can avoid her?"

Tintin rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, I can think of one way. You'll need to sign some paperwork, though."

"Great, more contracts."

The next morning Tintin stood outside the Champions' tent, notebook and quill in hand. He saw Skeeter approaching, photographer in tow, hunger in her eyes. "Good morning, Rita."

Rita looked at the younger reporter with distaste. "Ah, Tintin, didn't expect you to be here. I suppose you're here to interview Potter? If I were you, I'd get lost—this is the Prophet's story, not yours."

"Funny you should say that, Rita," Tintin began, smiling, "But through good fortune, the Miroir has gained exclusive interview rights with Msr. Potter."

"You can't do that!" Rita nearly snapped her quill in half. "Can he do that?" he asked her photographer. The man shrugged. "How can you do that?"

"Mr. Potter signed a legally binding contract with my paper," Tintin replied airily. "If you want to talk to Potter, you have to go through me."

"And I suppose you're going to refuse me if I ask."

"You suppose correct."

"Damn you! The Prophet will throw a fit when they hear of this!"

"Don't worry, the Prophet will get their interview. It just won't be from you. Msr. Potter and I have agreed to allow your paper to print my story." He paused to inspect his nails, looking up after a few minutes. "Oh, you're still here? The press box is that way, I believe. Best get up there and find a good seat before the fireworks begin."

With that, Tintin turned and entered the tent, leaving a red-faced Rita Skeeter grinding her teeth hard enough to crack a molar.