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Chapter 3

Arriving for everything a little late had once been an Albus Dumbledore trademark, it had allowed him the chance to survey the room and make a grand dramatic entrance. Today, however, it was a delay, anything to give himself more time rather than face the looming problem... still no Harry Potter.

He had stopped to triple check the preparations, arrangements for the special guests, even looked in on the food preparation for the feast to follow the event. Even as he approached the champions' tent he would stop to speak with just about anyone, are you having a good day? How is the view? It has been a long time. Finally there could be no more delays, because he was here at the opening of the champions' tent, inside he could hear the loud whispers of the other headmasters and the contestants.

When he heard the voice of Bartemius "Barty" Crouch Sr. he knew he could delay no longer, "Where is he? We are already behind by almost a half an hour."

He stepped into the tent with a flourish, a fake smile on his face and a forced lightness in his voice. "I am here Bartemius, no need to worry. Now if the champions will gather we can begin."

Scowling at the man, Barty pulled him sharply aside and whispered urgently in his ear, "Where is Potter? You said that he would be here!"

"Have no fears! I am sure he will be along shortly." Turning he addressed the others in the room. "Now, let us begin!"

Albus was not listening as Barty gave his explanation of the event, he just stood and fretted. Only when the delicate hand of the champion from Beauxbatons reached toward the satchel Barty held before him did he snap himself from his stupor.

He watched as her hand slid into the depths of the bag…

The ground shook, knocking them all from their feet, thunder ripped through the air as a flash of lightning blinded them. Again and again it happened, the ground jumped once again and fire erupted from the tent, half flash blind and with his ears ringing Albus pulled out his wand and began casting spells, soon to be followed by the other headmasters. The fires were quickly doused, and the trio of headmasters began following the trail of scorched earth and destruction that left from the tent and ran toward the arena.

Light flashed, blinding him, he blinked fiercely trying in vain to clear his sight. Then he felt himself pitch forward, twisting to the right. He did the only thing he could do, the thing he had been trained to do from his first days of training, he tucked his chin crossed his arms and prayed. He was bounced, twisted and tossed, and when he came to rest he could not even tell which way was up. Pain raced through his back and shoulders, his vision swam, all he could think was 'anything you can walk away from…'

Flashes of light and thunder erupted from the Champions' Tent, all of the heads in the crowd snapped to the side, unknowing of what to expect. A white and red blur exploded from the tent trailing light, thunder and fire. It roared toward the arena at amazing speed, the growl coming from it reaching a fever pitch. It clipped the edge of the wall surrounding the arena and abruptly began a spin to the left, the front catching in one of the deep crevices crisscrossing the floor to pitch it forward, pirouetting on the front corner before beginning to roll. It rolled so quickly few knew the number of times before it came to a stop in a pile of screaming torn metal a rain of parts and steam, smoke, and flame.

No one in the crowd reacted, they sat transfixed at the sight, a muggle vehicle, one of those non-wizard contraptions, had invaded the première magic school of all England and sat in a smoking and burning heap at the center of the arena. Soon something covering the right side window fell away and a person dressed in some form of odd helmet and clothing pushed his way out, half climbing and half falling.

He stood, stumbling, clawing at something under the chin of the helm that was covered with stylized brightly colored flames. Tearing it away and tossing it to the side the figure dropped hard into a sitting position next to a large stone, and lifted his left arm high above his head in some form of gesture. He sat there breathing hard, and using his teeth to pull loose his right glove, one that many thought was a part of his strange looking thick garments.

Slowly he began to look around. Dropping his left arm he began to search with more urgency. Finally looking up into the crowd, that sat in wooden bleachers, behind a wooden wall with large wood towers every so often along the way, bright streamers of blue, silver, gold, and many others falling and flapping in the breeze around the towers.

The people struck him as if they were from another time, they wore robes. Not the ones that one would expect but ones that looked like they belonged in one of the movies his uncle liked so much. He could only sit and stare.

A man watched all of this in stunned silence, as he looked at the young man sitting before him. His hair was black and short, plastered to his head with sweat, but it was his eyes that held Sirius Black, eyes he had not seen in over thirteen years. They were a bright gleaming green, with a slight almond shape... just like his mother's. Next his eyes flickered to the brow just above the right eye, a lightning shaped scar traced down. It was Harry!

Shaking himself he was moving like a flash, arriving at the entrance of the arena just as Albus and the others did. "Albus did you see? That was Harry?"

Following the path they all continued on. "I am sorry my friend, but I did not. There seems to have been quite a show with your godson's arrival, and some of the unintended consequences have kept us quite busy," he said gesturing to the now half burnt tent.

"Hehe... I can see how you could say that," he said after looking over his shoulder.

"You need to remember Sirius," he said looking at the man, not in his grandfatherly tone but in one that commanded respect in the governmental chambers. "This may be Harry, but this may not be the Harry you remember, he has grown up for years away from us. It will take time for him to accept everything, and with him entered in this tournament..."

"I understand that! I know better than anyone what your bumbling stupidity has wrought!" he said rounding on the man. "DO NOT mistake my tone as one of forgiveness, and never take that superior tone with me! This is my godson, I will stand beside him from this point on, even if he walks away from this damned tournament, to hell with the consequences!"

"He needs to compete, Sirius, or risk losing his magic."

"He was in a muggle auto Albus!" Sirius continued. "Something tells me he'd be just fine." Albus stumbled at that. Catching himself he thought, 'that cannot be, he needs to be here to be taught.' He followed them on to the wreck of an automobile.

Sirius rounded the edge first, looking at the young man. "Ha-Harry?"

He turned his head slowly, the man looking at him nervously stood slightly hunched making him look shorter than he would be standing straight. He had grey heavily at both temples and peppered into his long dark hair elsewhere, a light mustache adorned his face trimmed down at the ends to his jaw. His blue eyes were almost full of tears as he asked the name.

He looked around at the others approaching, one a large woman easily over seven feet, beside her a fair skinned blond woman that looked like a child next to her dressed in blue. An old man wearing half-moon glasses and a long white beard his head topped with a pointed cap right out of a fairy tale book, while following him was a young man with brown hair and slightly bushy eyebrows. The final pair, one looking as if he was a truly unpleasant man, dark and foreboding. At his left was a someone he would describe as a brute, maybe not unintelligent but he had the look of someone that went for the brute force way of doing something.

Looking at all of them he answered. "Um, can I ask something…" He looked around again. "Where am I?"

The old man answered, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," as if that should answer the question.

He looked at him expectantly, finally the one who had asked Harry? answered. "Scotland, Northern Scotland."

"Oook," he said, then quietly, "So, I'm not in Kansas any more."

The old man spoke again. "Kansas…Is that where you've been... Kansas?"

The young man looked at him oddly then at the others, only the first man had a smile on his face. "No you old fool, that's a line from a muggle movie," he said with a large amount of venom. "It refers to being well and truly lost."

Shaking his head he turned back to Harry. "My name is Sirius Black," he said offering his hand.

Taking it he answered, "I'm Harry. Nice to meet you Mr. Black."

"Oh, Thank Merlin," he said, tears beginning to fall. "I'd almost given up hope of finding you."

An odd look came over the young man's face. "Umm... Riiight..." he said pulling his hand free. "Can anyone tell me why I feel like I've become the Southern boy in King Arthur's Court? If this is OZ, Just tell me how to call a wrecker, and get home."