Hey guys, sorry for the long wait, but I had the worst writers block with this story, so it took me a while to get the right ideas for what I wanted in this chapter, but here it is.

I would love to get your ideas on what you want to see next chapter, so please review with ideas.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 8

Hermione watched Harry and his new friends. She could admit, if only to herself, that she was jealous. Not only had Harry made friends with three foreign students, but one was from a famous family, another one was too beautiful to be human, she was sure, and the other one was so cute that it was hard not to like her.

However, when she heard Harry's exclamation of her being with Fred and George, she wasn't sure whether she should be worried or not.

It was Halloween night when it all came together. All four schools were gathered in the hall, everyone at the tables assigned to them, newly made friends separated as they sat with their respective schools/houses. Harry himself was seated in between Ron and Hermione, having a conversation that was more like an interrogation.

It was stopped before long, however, as Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the head table and allowed his natural power to settle the hall of students. When everyone was calm and looking up at him attentively, Dumbledore smiled.

"Hogwarts and guests!" He announced, spreading his arms. "The Goblet has made its decision!" He stopped to allow the tremendous applause. "Now, when the name appears, I ask you to walk the path between the table and cross the head table, and enter a room through the door behind me to await further instructions." When he got a mixture of nods, he smiled.

Everyone silenced, however, and turned to the Goblet, when it lit up a bright, brilliant red. Those at the front of the school were able to see as a slightly burnt piece of paper was spat out of the Goblet, the flames returning to their previous green as the paper floated down to where Dumbledore had extended a hand. He smiled solemnly at the paper before announcing to the hall;

"The Durmstrang Champion is Alexander Gates!"

All Durmstrang students let out a mighty cheer, their applause shaking the tables slightly. Alexander stood up gracefully, smiling almost smugly at the students he passed. A few students noticed as he pressed a reassuring hand to the girl from Folia Magicae Academia's head.

As walked up to the head table he shook hands with Dumbledore briefly, smirking at Karkaroff as he disappeared through the door behind the head table.

The Goblet flared a bright red again, and everyone concentrated on the Goblet as the second piece of paper landed on Dumbledore's hand.

"Beauxbatons champion; Allison Cero!"

The ladies of Beauxbatons all clapped politely, whilst Hogwarts let out a loud cheer to mimic their applause for the Durmstrang champion, although there were quite a few wolf whistles included in this cheer.

Allison let out an assessing eye over the student body before smirking triumphantly and making her way to the head table. She, too, let a hand smooth over the same girl as before 's head. She let Dumbledore bestow a kiss on the back of her hand before she walked into the back room, only giving a nod to acknowledge her headmistress.

As the Goblet burned for the last time, Dumbledore let out a gasp as the name on the paper came into his view.

"Harry Potter." He whispered.

There was no cheer this time around, as many thoughts, each similar to their neighbours, invaded their minds. Harry Potter was underage - he shouldn't have been able to put his name in the Goblet, and if he did, how did he cross Dumbledore's age line? Why didn't he tell anyone?

"Get up Harry!" Hermione urged, pushing her friend up of the bench. She watched worriedly as he walked, shocked, between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.

Everyone was surprised when someone else stood up, though even more so when they realised it wasn't another of the Golden Trio.

It was the girl from the fourth school, who had been seen hanging around Harry and the other two champions since they had arrived. They watched as she walked over to Harry, took his hand and began dragging him up to the head table. She completely ignored Dumbledore, snatching the piece of paper he was holding, before leading the shocked boy-who-lived into the back room.

When all four Head teachers, as well as McGonagall, Snape and Alastor Moody, walked into the back room, it was to see all four children sitting on the floor - or, the two oldest children were sat on the floor, with Harry sat on Alexander's lap with his head on his shoulder, and all teachers could see the tear tracks - whilst Rayne was sat on Allison's lap, leaning against her shoulder but openly crying into the room. All seven teachers watched shocked at the display of emotion, as well as the closeness of the four students.

"Did you put you name in the Goblet Harry?" Dumbledore questioned a few moments after he had entered the room, his voice slightly angry.

Harry's head shot up out of the older boys shoulder, and the other three all turned glares onto the old mans form.

"Of course I didn't! I get in enough trouble as it is, I wouldn't sign myself up for more."

A quiet snort rang through the room.

"You say that now." Alexander said, raising an eyebrow. Harry elbowed him quickly in the chest, before turning back to the teachers.

"If Fred and George couldn't get over the age line, why could I?" He questioned. Everyone pursed their lips.

"Its not even his handwriting."

All turned to the youngest in the room.

"What are you even doing here, young lady?" McGonagall questioned, almost angrily. "You should not be here."

Rayne sniffed in disdain, turning her head.

"You have no authority over me, miss. And even if you did, you wouldn't be able to get me to leave." She almost challenged.

"I'd like to see you try." Allison muttered into the younger girls hair.

The boys snorted.

"What do you mean its not even his handwriting?" They were brought back to the matter at hand by Moody's question.

"Don't you even know you own students handwriting?" She huffed. She waved the scrap of paper she had taken before handing it to Snape, who had come closer with curiosity he was hiding rather well.

He studied it for a few minutes, connecting it to the signing of the same name he had seen many times over the years at the end of essays.

"Its not his handwriting." He announced at last.

"Then who's is it?" McGonagall asked, perplexed.

"That, I do not know."