Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series and everything involved belongs to JKR.

Chapter 4- Crazy

This place is crazy. Absolutely, unequivocally, undeniably crazy. The stairways are always moving, how do they expect us to get to class on time? And they have a giant squid in their lake. Their freshwater lake. Besides, what do they want a squid for? They're not even mythical. If they want something mysterious and magical to guard their castle, they should get something interesting, like a Kraken.

- Ariane

"Imperio."

Seamus Finnigan jumped onto the table and began to tap-dance to the beat of Moody's wand. Ari tuned out the tittering class, appraising eyes focusing on her scowling teacher. Impressive. He'd cast the spell twelve times in quick succession, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. And they had to be powerful, too – most of the class hadn't resisted in the slightest. Either he was extraordinarily powerful, or Hogwarts fourth years were extraordinarily weak willed. Given the stories about the man, she was inclined to believe the former. He was well-known even in Gallia; the way some people told it, he was almost single-handedly responsible for putting down a particularly nasty blood-supremacist cult about fifteen years back. Looking at the scars marring his face (and the disconcerting ease with which he wielded the Imperius), she could almost believe it.

Then again, the leader was taken out by a baby. So it probably wouldn't take too much to deal with those so-called "Death-Eaters".

"Zabini!" Moody barked. Ari watched the Slytherin saunter to the front of the classroom, winking at a giggling female classmate.

"Imperio." Sweat broke out on Zabini's face. Teeth clenching, he visibly struggled against the curse, holding the edge of the desk for support.

Moody released the spell, waving absently towards the back wall with the only two others able to break the curse. Ari watched him go, wondering why his name hadn't been in her banks of House heirs at Hogwarts. He may have been Mundane-born, but to break the Imperius without any training… one would need to be extraordinarily strong-willed.

"The girl in blue." Ariane jerked her head around, seeing the professor beckon. "Let's see if Beauxbatons teaches you how to do anything besides embroidering pretty doilies."

Ari forced herself not to grind her teeth. Ignoring snickers from most of the class, she stepped calmly forward.

Closing her eyes, she slipped behind Occulumency shields. She drew an even breath, feeling the curse wash over her. Her fingers filled with a warm, tingling feeling, itching to submit to a command. Ari breathed again, her mind staying clear.

Her eyes opened, focusing on Moody's electric, twitching blue. She pushed.

Blinking as she felt the curse dissipate, she quickly hid the surprise on her face. Strange… his curse had been messy, the magic erratic – as though the spell was self-taught, or his core had been damaged.

"Not too bad, for the French," Moody admitted gruffly. "What was your name?"

"Ariane Delacour."

"Stand by the back wall. Next…" he glanced at the roster in his hand.

"Malfoy!" he barked, face sour.

Ariane watched the professor's face, more interested in the sudden anger he showed than in Malfoy fighting the curse. She saw it darken as he threw off the Imperius.

"Who would have guessed? I always thought feeble wills ran in your family." Moody's voice held a vaguely threatening note.

"Given his… history with the curse, you can't be surprised my father gave me training," Malfoy answered, scowling.

"Well, the next time he tries to buy his way out of a conviction, I suppose he won't be able to appeal to his extraordinarily weak mind,"

"Perhaps yours was just an extraordinarily weak curse."

"Twenty points from Slytherin. Back wall, Mr. Malfoy."

Even the Gryffindors who'd laughed at Mad-Eye's first insult were silent, feeling the tension between the two. As Malfoy walked past Ariane, he fixed Moody with an angry look. Mad-Eye's hand twitched to his wand, face murderous. Malfoy stood stiffly next to Ari as Moody called a Lavender Brown. His eyes flickered to Zabini, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, then to Ari's.

"Yes?" he asked tersely

Ari turned away from him, watching another student succumb to the Imperius. "Only wondering how to drive a professor to murder this early in the term."

"Mad-Eye Moody… has a grudge against my father."

"Of course," she said tonelessly. Wonderful, Ari rolled her eyes internally, he's one of those types. With some Purebloods, failure was never their fault – someone always had a grudge, or hadn't fought "honorably." At least he hadn't said Moody was jealous of his status.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Well," he answered, in a falsely light tone, "they did try to do each other in, after all."

"Wizard's Duel?"

"Politics."

Ari kept her face blank, recognizing the intended intimidation. Well, she'd been raised to play the game too.

"Draco Malfoy." He offered his hand. "I don't believe we're acquainted."

"Quite the contrary," Ariane replied innocently. "We met when your father came to Gallia to discuss luxury tariffs with my mother and our Finance Minister." She broke the handshake, knowing the taxes had cost the Malfoy export machine a considerable amount.

"Ariane Carina Delacour."

"… so anyone who could throw off the Imperius was paired up and put in an advanced Defense group." Ari and Fleur watched the Hogwarts students eyeing the Goblet, scouting for competition. Ari nodded.

"Of course, that just meant people who'd already been trained in Occulumency. They're mostly from old families, although the Professor added one mundane-born. Needed an even number."

"Is your sparring partner any good?" Fleur eyed a tall, black girl as she dropped a slip of parchment into the smoking cup. The girl winked at a group of cheering Gryffindors.

"Draco Malfoy. I don't know, we haven't dueled yet… Moody just assigned them. There was an odd number, though, so he added some girl from Gryffindor. It seems like most of them are pretty behind though…"

Moody's fist slammed on the desk. "Pathetic – five of you could break the curse – five! And one of them's not even from Hogwarts. How do you plan to fight Dark Lords if you can't even defend your own minds? And these diagnostic exams – " He swept a pile of papers onto the floor.

"Most of you barely know how to deal with a Hinkypunk, let alone an enemy with a wand. If I wanted, I could kill the lot of you within a minute." He pointed his wand at a student.

"You, Finnigan! I'm about to slice your chest open. What do you do?"

The Irish boy stared at the wand, terrified.

Moody flicked his wand back into its holster, sounding disgusted. "Pathetic."

Fleur shrugged as Ari recounted the class. "Let's hope they're all that bad. The worse the competition, the better for me."

A handsome Hufflepuff was pushed into the age circle by his laughing friends. There was a roar of approval as he dropped his name into the Goblet with a flourish. All of the Hogwarts students clapped, though the ones with yellow ties seemed the most enthusiastic.

"Do you know which Durmstrangs submitted their names, cherie?"

"Madame Maxine said nearly all of them did, this morning. Ours are all going to as well, after dinner."

Ari raised an eyebrow. "Ours?"

Fleur glared at a sixth year who was staring at her slack-jawed. "Merle, I put mine in before breakfast."

She closed her eyes, allowing the wind to buffet her face. Cold and sharp, it snapped against her skin and swept over her outstretched arms. Ari breathed in, filling her lungs and letting the flailing air strike against her body and rush through her fingers. Her cheeks smarted as the blast pummeled against them.

Ari stepped back from the edge of the Astronomy Tower. Fleur looked up from a detailed copy of the Triwizard Rules and laughed.

"Merle, your hair looks like a bird's nest. That's fallen to the ground. And been run over."

Her sister scowled, running her fingers through her black hair. "And how goes your cheating?"

The veela held up the rule-book. "It's not cheating if it's not in here."

"It's a loophole. Semantics."

"No, no, Merle, it is initiative. And don't pretend you wouldn't do the same."

Ari grinned. "Just make sure to read carefully. No one can do anything if you find a way around them, but the punishment for breaking the rules is… severe." She sat against her sisters' back, flipping open a Herbology textbook.

"I thought I might find you here," a familiar voice drawled from the doorway.

Ari looked up, and broke into a grin.

"Amadeus," Fleur exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

The blonde boy leaned against the wall, carelessly. "Fleur Delacour," he said calmly, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "It's been far too long."

Fleur rolled her eyes, and engulfed him in a hug. She pushed him back to study his face, and then pulled him into another embrace. Laughing, he freed himself from her to extend his arms to the other sister.

"And little Ariane. You always did like high places."

Ari wrapped her arms around him. "Not so little anymore. It's been the better part of two years."

"And you've grown beautiful in them. Surely the boys aren't still paying attention to your drab sister?" he teased. Fleur smacked his arm playfully.

"So, 'Deus, are we going to settle the bet during the Tournament?" she asked. Ari smiled, remembering years of bickering over which of the pair was more magically powerful.

He shook his head ruefully. "I'm afraid my name's not in the Goblet."

"So why are you here?"

"Same as you, I imagine - meeting future friends and enemies. And I'm supporting someone."

"Oh?" Fleur asked with a grin. "Ari, there's a special someone."

Amadeus just smiled mysteriously. Then he looked at Ari and his expression clouded.

"You're not looking for him, are you?" he asked.

"Him?" Ari answered innocently.

Amadeus frowned. "You know perfectly well what I mean. Your father. He's from Albion, isn't he?"

She shook her head, smiling. "'Deus, that stopped bothering me years ago. Besides," she said with a playful glance at her sister, "I can barely deal with the family I have now."

Unconvinced, he pressed "Ariane, I can hardly imagine you giving up on it."

Ari met his eyes, reading the clear concern in them. She sighed. "I couldn't find him if I wanted to. Amadeus, I don't know anything about him. Mama won't tell me anything, only that he's dangerous. She worries, and in this I have no choice but to trust her judgment."

He nodded slowly. "In that case, I apologize." Amadeus gave her a small bow.

She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you still do that. You never change, do you?"

Fleur gave him a fond kiss on the cheek, laughing. "He's Amadeus, Merle. Of course not."

"So what do you think of these British, my dear?" he asked her.

"This place is insane," Ari and Fleur answered together.

Amused, Ari watched Neville pull on his dragon-leather gloves. Smiling, he petted the various Mimbulus mimbletonia that swayed in the pots before them.

"Aren't they cute?"

She sighed as she pulled on her own gloves, pointedly ignoring her partner's happy ramblings (anyway, she wasn't sure whether they were directed at her or the plants).

Useful? Yes. After all, one couldn't get by very far in Potions without a solid grasp of what one was putting into their concoctions. And Buboter pus was very useful for treating infections. But cute? Merlin, no. And she wasn't going to bloody coo over the bulbous, sap-filled plants like they were fluffy little kneazles.

She glanced at Neville, stroking one lovingly and murmuring childish gibberish. Ari sighed, grabbing a bottle to collect the sap.

"Longbottom."

"Yes?" His round face seemed lit up with some bulbous, sap-filled inner joy.

"Let's make a deal. I'll ensure you don't trigger any explosions, destroy too many inanimate objects, or incur grievous harm to a living being in Potions - and you're going to lend me your walking Herbology-encyclopedia brain. Deal?"

His face split into a wide grin.

"Sure!" Neville beamed, thrilled someone wanted his help in his favorite subject. "Well, the Mimbulus mimbletonia is a very rare plant that was originally found on the banks of the Euphrates, which seems contradictory since it has a strong resemblance to cacti, but since it lacks many of the water-conserving adaptations most desert plants do – for example, they have a C3 cycle rather than a CAM cycle, as well as not having stomata in indents. Certain breeds have developed trichomes, and obviously they don't have the kind of large leaves that allow for high transpiration…"

He stopped, seeing Ari giving him a nonplussed look.

"How do you know all of this?"

Neville blinked. "I read some books."

Ari gave him an appraising look, wondering why no one was willing to sit next to him in class. She shook her head, returning to the task. The Longbottom Heir was either an idiot savant or just very, very lonely.

"Oh," she paused, remembering something. "And another condition. Just don't ask me to pet a plant. Any of them. Ever."

Hoping she didn't smell of Buboter Pus, Ari walked out of the greenhouse and checked her schedule.

"Hey, Neville? Do you know where Care of Magical Creatures is?"

He nodded. "I've got it too. I'll show you?" he asked, a small hopeful note tinting his voice.

"Yes, that'd be great," she said gratefully. "What're you studying?"

A strange look crossed his face. "Err… you'll see."

Ari gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain… Look, it'll be, um, a surprise." He stopped in front of a hut, pointing at a pile of crates. "They're in there. And that's the Professor."

She blinked, seeing the man's girth. "Is he part giant?"

Neville nodded. "How'd you know?"

"He's a little large, Longbottom."

He blushed. "Oh. Yeah, I guess so."

Ari was surprised to realize she felt a little guilty. "Well, our Headmistress is half. So I recognize it." She gave him a friendly smile. "I need him to sign a form. I'll see you later."

"Professor Hagrid?" she asked "I'm transferring in from Beauxbatons; I'll need you to sign this form."

Hagrid gave her a good-natured smile. "You'd be the girl Dumbledore was talkin' 'bout." He scrawled his name across the sheet then squinted at the class. "Tell ya what, Zabini an' Greengrass 're feeding the Skrewts, you jus' go an' join them. Be a good way t' get to know 'em."

"Skrewts?" Ari asked with a vague sense of foreboding.

Hagrid chuckled. "You'll see. They're great fun, you're going t' love 'em."

She nodded, turning towards the students he'd pointed out, trying to recall their names.

"Daphne Greengrass, I assume?" The dark-haired girl looked up, surprised.

"Yes, that's me," she answered, her smooth voice almost concealing her suspicion.

"And Blaise Zabini." His easy, playful smile stood in sharp contrast to her blank expression.

"And your name?" He asked, taking her hand and kissing it. "Or do angels not have names?"

Ari caught Daphne rolling her eyes.

"Ariane Delacour. And tell me, have you tried that line on every girl here already, or just the single ones?"

"What? I would never say such a thing to anyone but a shining beacon of beauty," he said, sounding hurt. "Isn't that right, Daphne?" he cast her a plaintive look.

She snorted. "Blaise, you'd say that to a skrewt if you thought it'd get you shagged."

Zabini shook his head ruefully. "I should have partnered with Parkinson. She'd have backed me up."

"Parkinson'll say whatever you want her to if she thinks it'll get her shagged."

Blaise shuddered. "That harpy? Honestly, I'd rather the bloody skrewt."

"Skrewts?" Ari interjected dryly.

The two of them looked at each other, and then Daphne motioned her towards the crate and lifted the lid.

Ari blinked for a moment, speechless. Hogwarts. Is. Crazy.

The air was thick with anticipation, a clamor of eager speculation filling the hall. Ari said goodbye to Blaise and waved at Amadeus, seated next to Krum at the Slytherin table. Sitting down at the Ravenclaw table, she gave her sister a reassuring smile.

Dumbledore tapped the podium, silencing the hall.

"The goblet seems almost ready to make its decision," he began. "Those who are selected, please proceed through the Hall to the chamber on the right."

Gravely, he looked out onto the students. "Remember, whoever is chosen may find great honor. But they are sure to find great danger. Each Champion will have to conquer the seven tasks chosen by the Goblet, one each chosen from suggestions by the three schools, and four by its own whim. Despite our new security measures, these tasks will be perilous and potentially life-threatening. So to all who are selected, I must wish a heartfelt 'good luck'".

As he finished, the goblet began to glow. A blue flame swirled through the red, casting shadows across the walls. Spellbound, Ari leaned forward, watching the flames dance across the rim of the cup.

A small, worn piece of parchment drifted out of the Cup into Dumbledore's waiting hands. "The Champion for Durmstrang is… Viktor Krum!"

Applause erupted from the Durmstrang delegation as the Quidditch star stood and walked proudly towards Dumbledore. Clapping politely, Ari was surprised to see how many Hogwarts students were whooping his name. She shrugged, doubting she'd ever understand sports fanaticism.

Krum shook Dumbledore's hand, stony-faced and serious.

Ari looked at Fleur, but her sister hadn't looked away from the swirling Goblet. Behind her, Amadeus was wearing a small smile, watching Krum disappear into the small chamber.

The flames in the Goblet swirled again.

A second piece of parchment was spat into the air, falling smoothly into Dumbledore's fingers.

"The Champion for Hogwarts is… Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table exploded into an earsplitting roar. A few grinning friends shoved the Prefect into the aisle, chanting his name. Ari saw a few scowls at other tables, but then there would always be someone disappointed. Cedric bowed theatrically to the students, prompting a fresh round of applause from his House.

Ari held her breath. Only one more… Fleur drew a deep breath, watching the swirling fire.

It seemed to take the Headmaster an exceedingly long time to unroll the slip of parchment. Ari reached over and squeezed her sister's hand.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is…" She could hear her blood beating in her ears.

"Fleur Delacour!"

A flash of elation crossed Fleur's face, before she fell back into her uninviting, cold default. She sauntered to the podium, shaking the Headmaster's hand firmly. She nodded to her delegation, eyes on Ari. Ariane shot her a congratulatory smile, clapping.

Dumbledore motioned for silence. "I'm sure we are all – " He stopped.

The flames in the Goblet stirred again. Shocked, Ari watched a fourth piece of parchment fall lazily out of the air and land softly onto Dumbledore's palm.

The old man gazed at it wordlessly, as the Hall watched with bated breath.

"Harry… Harry Potter."

Ari caught her breath, her eyes flashing towards the Gryffindor table. That scrawny kid in my Defense class? What the hell?

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore's voice rang through the Hall, furious and commanding.

Ari leaned back, mind reeling. A second Hogwarts champion? How could… She glanced at Amadeus, who gave her the slightest shrug of his shoulders. And he's not even past the age requirement. Her eyes drifted to Dumbledore. It was his age line… but how could he have made the Goblet chose a second contender?

A/N:

Finally, now the action can begin.

If you enjoyed this, please review.

~Echo and Kibou