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At first it was just fevered whispering as all of Hogwarts turned to see this boy who looked like Harry Potter. Harry shrank away from them and focused on the table in front of him. He knew this was going to be bad. He wanted to stay with Galatea but she had gone up to the North Pole where the aurora was thinnest or something to harvest energy. He hadn't really paid attention after the part where she said she was leaving.
"Silence!" shouted Dumbledore. He had a bad feeling as students got up from their tables and were inching their way to Harry Potter. This was his latest attempt to bring Harry back to the light, by showing him all that Hogwarts had to offer and helping him reconnect with his old Hogwarts friends.
"Let them have it him." Said Sirius. The whispering turned to yelling and Harry ran to the girls side and placed himself between Portia and Persephone. This was getting bad, people were drawing their wands. Sirius wanted to see that dark wizard, that perversion of James' legacy, get what he had coming to him.
"Leave me alone." Said Harry holding his wand in the palm of his hand. The tip facing downwards. This was done on Remordere to show that you would attack if provoked. To them it meant that this Harry Potter imposter really was a dark wizard like Sirius Black had said and he was going to hex them all into oblivion. The Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students were on the other side of the room sensing what was about to happen.
"Oi! Are you Harry Potter?" said a student. Harry locked eyes with him and nodded slowly. Then the curses started flying. An objective observer might take the time to make note of how the two different schools handled the situation. Dumbledore continuously called for silence and even allowed Sirius Black to madly cackle at the head table. Other members of staff tried to break it up but no one listened. Headmaster Spellwick on the other hand took his staff members and attempted to evacuate the children from the great hall. Attempted being the operative word there as the curses started flying. At some point all of the staff gave up and let it burn itself out. They reasoned that these were only school children and Hogwarts didn't teach many offensive spells. The only staff member trying to break this up was Moody, or rather fake Moody, his master needed Harry Potter alive. Soon the fight turned into a sort of war game as tables were turned onto their sides at opposite ends of the room and shoes were being thrown as well as curses. It was at this point that Dumbledore created a phoenix out of fire and had it fly in circles overhead before exploding. He gave his wand a flick and all of the tables and chairs went back to normal. This looked effortless but it actually took quite a bit of energy on his part, he was getting on in years.
"I demand silence! Everyone, back to your places!" said Dumbledore he looked actually quite frightening then and the students complied, half of them without shoes on.
"He's not Harry Potter!" said a young student pointing at Harry. A few students nodded in agreement. Harry groaned, life was not good. Not good at all. Half of these people hated him and the other half wanted him to be their messiah. He was just Harry. All he wanted to be was Harry Pettigrew, not Harry Potter.
"I assure that the boy you see before you is, in fact, Harry Potter." Said Dumbledore in a tone that left no room for argument. Portia wondered if he had children, that tone was one her mother used often and Galatea seemed to acquire after Timothy was born.
"I'm not a boy, I'm fourteen years old." Muttered Harry under his breath. Portia gave his foot a reassuring tap with her stocking foot. He tapped her foot back and she smiled. Odd.
"He has been…home trained…for a number of years before transferring to a magical school closer to his home. Now, I will not have this pandemonium break out again. This is a school and we will put on our best faces in front of our fellow students. Do I make myself clear?" said Albus Dumbledore in his most stern and frightening voice. Most of the students nodded quietly. They had rarely seen angry Dumbledore, he was usually such a jovial man.
"Now I'm glad I never went to school here." Said Persephone quietly. The magic/shoe fight was rather fun and nobody had gotten hurt but this man was very angry. Very ancient, but very angry. She had at first been excited to finally see Hogwarts but now she wanted to go back to school even if it meant missing this tournament. She didn't care about competing or the riches that would come with winning, she was already rich, she just wanted to be a part of something bigger than Harry, Portia, and Galatea for once.
"Now that we are all settled and calm I would like to announce some changes to the usual rules effective immediately. The first of which being that students are forbidden from walked the grounds after dark." Said Dumbledore his voice rising over the outraged protests. It was going to be winter soon and the sun would set barely after it rose.
"Think someone else had the dark lord growing out of the back of their head?" asked Portia. The students around them began to snicker until they were silenced from a glare by their headmaster.
"The second being that all students will be in bed by an appointed time and all faculty will do bed checks in same gendered dormitories." Said Dumbledore rattling off another stipulation that had been imposed onto him by the Headmaster, owner, and proprietor of Spellwick's. He felt that this basic measure greatly cut down on potential for adventure but he had to court the school to get them to agree to participate in the tournament.
"What's everyone bellyaching about?" asked Persephone. She was sued to a nightly bed check and lights out and not having one was incomprehensible to her. Sirius looked ready to spit poison, he had come up with some of his best pranking skulking around the school after curfew under James' invisibility cloak. His eyes got a far off glazed look as he remembered the good times, selectively omitting Peter. To Harry it looked like he had been hitting the green fairy a bit too hard.
"The third being that females and males will not enter each other's bathrooms, dormitories, or locker rooms. This rule will be strictly enforced and has been on the books since Hogwarts inception." Dumbledore knew that this was put there for propriety's sake but there were contraceptive magics covering the castle and the grounds. Several of the students from the other schools looked confused, Hogwarts was much more liberal than they had thought.
"And now I would like to announce that anybody above the age of fourteen who would like to participate in the tournament may enter their name in the Goblet of Fire. If you so chose to enter be warned, you stand alone. People often parish in this tournament." Said Dumbledore ominously. He had wanted the age limit to be higher but if Harry was to compete and win it might bring him back to the light. If Harry had known this he would have packed his bags and been off to the frozen north faster than he could say Quiddich.
"Finally, we shall eat!" said Dumbledore back to his jovial self. Massive plates of food appeared before them and everybody seemed to forget their table manners and began to dig in. All of life's problems could be solved by meat and gravy…and puddings. Yes, Harry loved puddings.
"He looks more like Pettigrew." Murmured Snape as he watched the boy eat with gusto. Peter ate the same way, quickly and heartily. That would explain the boy's chubbiness. His hair was cut short so he couldn't tell if his hair was as wild as his father's. He had Lily's eyes but they didn't burn as brightly as hers. His seemed darker, more bored. They only lit up when he spoke to those two girls. The dark haired one was definitely Peter's, no doubt about that. Her face round like his, her eyes were his shade of blue, and she had his sycophantic look about her. Maybe that was his own prejudice. The marauders had taken Lily away from him. If they hadn't tortured him that day and made him call Lily a mudblood none of this would have happened. He would have been married to her with a nice house and a family like she had always talked about.
"He's nothing like James." Murmured Sirius as he watched this boy who dared to call himself Harry Potter. He was talking jovially with the other students at that dark school. Dumbledore's plan was mad to him. How would having Harry risk his life in this tournament get him to the light side? He had been in that dark family practically his entire life, it was hopeless. And why had Moody, Mr. Constant Vigilance, gone alone with this plan so easily. He shook his head, he shouldn't be questioning Albus Dumbledore. He looked over at the Gryffindor table and saw Neville Longbottom. The poor boy sat there being mercilessly bullied by the other Gryffindors. Sirius thought of him as an uncut precious stone, he just needed some work and guidance. Yes, Neville was the leader the light needed.
"Daddy, I don't like it here." Said Beadle Bard as he pulled at the collar of his linen shirt. He had sought his father out in his office and compiled a list of reasons why they needed to move back to the nice house where it wasn't so hot all the time.
"Why not?" asked Peter absently. He had been neglecting the Pettigrew tea business for far too long. He couldn't just leave it all to Addie, he was the wizard and she was the witch after all. Besides, she wouldn't be happy if she found out where a large chunk of their money had gone to. Galatea had told him that it was important and he trusted her...he also feared her just a tiny bit.
"It's hot here." Said Beadle. Peter picked his son up and held him on his lap. He hated the heat and the humidity that made his light linens cling to him.
"Oh, is that all?" said Peter. Beadle shook his head and pulled a long piece of paper from his pocket. His father would be so proud when he saw the list he made. He had used his best spelling and had it checked twice.
"No, there's nothing to do." Said Beadle. Peter chuckled and shook his head.
"Well, you could play with your brother and sisters or maybe even Timothy. Yes, I recall someone begging me to let you go the his home and play with him." Said Peter
"Timmy makes me feel bad." Said Beadle quietly
"Did you two have a fight?" asked Peter. Beadle shook his head.
"He's smarter than me, he's better at magic than me, and he can fly." Said Beadle sulkily. Peter was hit with a wave of understanding. He knew where his son was coming from, feeling jealous and overlooked because the was dull next to someone so extraordinary. He also knew just how wrong the desire to prove yourself could go.
"He isn't human, Beadle, that's why he can do those things." Said Peter. He needed to stress that Beadle could never compete with that but he could outshine Timothy in his own way with his own talents. Or maybe he didn't need to be in competition with his best friend anyway.
"I know that but next to him nobody notices me and I feel stupid." Said Beadle. Sure he could so some of the spells in his children guide to beginning magic but Timothy could just draw a circle and make something into something else, or just blow it up. He could also fly high in the air even if it did make him tired afterwards.
"You just need to find something that you are good at and he isn't." said Peter. Beadle looked deep in thought and then it hit him.
"I dress better." Said Beadle simply. Peter nodded slowly, not exactly the type of thing he found enjoyment in as a young boy but to each his own he supposed.
"That's…something I suppose." Said Peter. Beadle nodded, he knew he had to be better at something. While Timmy let his clothes get dirty and rumpled Beadle knew spells to keep him looking spiffy and adorable.
"And when we get married everybody will be jealous of my good dressing-ness." Said Beadle with all the conviction a small child could muster. Peter's thoughts came to a screeching halt…what? What exactly did he just say?
"To other people, right Beadle Bard?" said Peter slowly like he was talking to someone mad and clutching a bloody axe.
"No, to each other. Mummy said that married people are best friends and like spending all their time together. Me and Tim are best friends and enjoy spending all f our time together…well most of the time anyway. If we were married we could play all day and have kids and play all day with them." said Beadle in an utterly adorable way that only he could manage.
"Beadle, boys have to marry girls." Said Peter. Beadle didn't know that it was a have to sort of thing. He just assumed that lots of people were best friends with girls and that was why they were married.
"But what if you're best friends with a boy?" asked Beadle. Peter did not want to have this talk to early. He briefly entertained the idea of telling the boy he could do whatever he wanted and then when he turned twelve or thirteen anonymously sending him a box of wank mags. He knew that while it was the easiest plan it wasn't right because good fathers talked things over with their sons and did not send their sons wank mags. He knew that he would have been greatly disturbed if his father had given him wank mags. Or acknowledged what he knew his son to be doing alone in his bathroom in any way, shape, or form.
"People don't get married because they're best friends Beadle Bard, they get married to have babies." Said Peter. Beadle nodded, he supposed that made sense. He had never seen a man fat with a baby inside of him so he assumed that if he and Timothy had wanted to have kids they could just pick up some orphans. Yes, and name them all after the best Quiddich players ever. And live in a house with a swimming pool in every room. And have candy for every meal.
"But what if the girl you marry isn't your best friend? What if you don't like each other?" said Beadle with childlike innocence.
"Well, that part usually comes later. If the boy and girl can't get along then they just have babies and then live in separate houses only appearing in public together for important parties and such." Said Peter. Beadle supposed that made sense.
"But why would they be married if they hated each other?" asked Beadle
"Well, remember when I told you that Celeste was going to be your wife and Priscilla was going to be Timothy's wife." Said Peter. Beadle groaned, he forgot about that. Timothy and Priscilla got along alright but he didn't want to be married to some little baby. Even when he grew up she'd always be much younger than him.
"I remember." Said Beadle looking at his bare feet. He supposed that it would be mean to his parents if he decided that he'd go against what they wanted for him in such a big way. On some level he understood that marriages were an important thing; that was why he wanted to be married to Timothy.
"Well, mummies and daddies pick who their children will marry so that these things are less likely to happen. You know, my mummy and daddy and your mum's mummy and daddy decided that we'd be married so we became best friends and then got married and decided to have lots and lots of sons and daughters." Said Peter
"Daddy, is that why I have so many more brothers and sisters than everyone else?" asked Beadle. Peter nodded, he knew that purebloods typically did the heir and a spare thing but he wanted to be surrounded by his adoring family full of strong sons and daughters.
"Yes, and you're very lucky to have so many sisters and more brothers will come soon." Said Peter. Beadle got a thoughtful look.
"Daddy, how do the babies get inside of mummy's stomach?" asked Beadle. Peter's mind started to go a mile a minute. He debated with himself between the awful truth, a little lie, and offering his son a cookie to detract from the situation.
"Magic." Said Peter simply. This answer seemed to satisfy Beadle. He hopped down from his father's lap and left the office. He found Timothy in the garden and jumped on his back. They flew like that together until Timothy got too tired and they fell into the fountain where his siblings were playing. He didn't even care that he had ruined his linen clothes. Even if he couldn't marry Timothy because he was a boy he they could still play together. Yes, the best things in life involved playing, Quiddich, and Timothy. Just so long as he never too anyone else, especially not his perfect little sister Priscilla, flying.