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The evening seemed to fly by in a flurry of good conversation and food – even Sam softened slightly to Fred, George and Lee's antics by the time dessert arrived. When all the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore rose to his feet a second time. The hall immediately fell into silence, watching with excited eyes as the Headmaster raise his hands to attention, casting the room into a buzzing silence. Fred and George were leaning so far forward in their seats that their chins were nearly pressed against the table.

'The moment has come,' Dumbledore smiled broadly at the upturned faces, 'The Tetrawizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—'

'The what?' Danny muttered. Sam knocked him in his side again with a hushing noise.

'—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation,' Danny clapped politely with the rest of the hall as a thin moustachioed man with severely parted hair made the smallest inclination of his head, neck stiff and thin-lipped. 'And Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.'

Danny was ready to offer another round of polite clapping when the room burst into a much more emphatic cheering. Bagman stood from his seat, a round boyish face surrounded by a mop of curly blond hair that looked strange on someone of his age and position. He gave a jovial wave with a bright grin, and Crouch seemed to frown deeper at the other man's antics.

'Mr. Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Tetrawizard Tournament,' Dumbledore continued, 'And they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime and Professor Lancer on the panel that will judge the champion's efforts.'

At the mention of 'champions,' the students seemed to sit up even straighter. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their stillness as he smiled and said, 'The casket if you please, Mr Filch.'

A man dressed in ugly drab robes of varying shades of brown and grey hobbled from the far corner of the hall, carting an ancient wooden chest encrusted with jewels that seemed to sing of the years of time. A murmur of excitement rose from the students, one young boy stood on his chair to see, but he was so tiny his head was barely any higher than anyone else's.

'The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch,' Dumbledore spoke as Filch carefully placed the chest on the table before him, 'And they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.'

Fred, George and Lee were nearly hyperventilating with excitement at this point, grinning at each other whenever they caught the other's eye.

'As you know, traditionally three champions compete in the tournament. One from each of the participating schools. With the introduction of our newest company, the tournament will be one champion more difficult. Each champion will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the one with the highest total after three tasks will win the Tetrawizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector; the Goblet of Fire.'

Dumbledore drew his wand from his robes and tapped three times upon the top of the chest. The lid creaked slowly open. Reaching inside, Dumbledore pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, its flames so bright that it appeared like Dumbledore was cradling the sun in his hands.

'Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,' Dumbledore instructed, 'Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the four it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

'To ensure that no underage student yields temptation,' Dumbledore continued, his voice catching a stern edge, 'I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.'

'What?' Fred and George spat. Danny didn't share their outrage, already having celebrated his seventeenth birthday back in January.

'Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.'

The three Gryffindors stood with barely a glance at Danny or Sam, too caught up in themselves as they strode out of the hall, 'An Age Line! Well, that can be fooled by an aging potion, shouldn't it?' one of them cackled, 'And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing – it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not…'

'Idiots,' Sam muttered from beside Danny as she rose from her seat, 'As if something as simple as an aging potion would trick the goblet. Surely they would have thought of that in preparations.'

'Aw, come on. Don't crack their cauldron,' Danny said in a lower voice watching the three boys meet up with some of the younger years, one that looked particularly like the twins with gangly limbs and a long, freckled nose, 'Who knows, it might actually work.'

'Fenton, Manson!' barked out Professor Lancer from the head of the Gryffindor table. The other Caspers were already milling around the near-empty room, looking bored. Danny and Sam made their way over, 'Everyone here? Good. Now, you are to follow me to your new dormitories. The Headmaster has been kind enough to give us boarding in some of the lesser-used classrooms. Come on.'

The students trailed behind Professor Lancer as he made his way out of the Great Hall and into the entrance. There was a narrow corridor just off to the side of the main stairs. It was rather unimpressive in comparison to the rest of the castle; the walls were barren and plain except for a large painting of a bowl of fruit.

Lancer halted at the end of the corridor in front of an unassuming wooden door, 'Gentlemen, your rooms should be through to the left, ladies on the right. Your trunks have already arrived and should be situated in front of your allocated beds. I hope you are capable of finding your belongings without needing my assistance?'

Danny could practically hear Sam rolling her eyes.

'Now, it is important that you remember the password; Clabbert.'

There was a clicking sound and the door swung open on its own accord. Inside Danny glimpsed a cozy-looking common room with plush chairs and a crackling fireplace. The others let off exhausted squeals as they barged their way into the room. Danny went to follow them when Lancer placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Not so fast, Mr Fenton.'

'What?' Danny asked. He hadn't done anything wrong – he was certain that Lancer hadn't caught sight of the fireworks.

Lancer didn't have a look of suspicion, instead, his mouth was turned down in a frown, 'I have been notified that there is not enough room available for you in the boys' dormitories.'

'Are you serious?' Danny hissed, 'Where am I supposed to stay then? There's no way I'm bunking on the couch for a whole year.'

'Don't worry, Fenton. The Headmaster has informed me that they have been able to accommodate you with alternate lodgings. Come with me.'

Lancer led him back out of the corridor and into the entrance hall, up the impressive staircase which led them up over four flights. The walls were high, encased in grey stone and lined with portraits that stared curiously at them, whispering to each other. One painting of a town square with a witch strapped to a pyre had her executioner pause distractedly as they passed by, causing the torch he was holding to catch his sleeve, forcing him to fling himself into a water trough.

More twisting and curving staircases sent them deeper into the castle, and Danny was surprised to find that the staircases moved; he had barely stepped off onto the fifth floor when the set decided to pivot, curving out of sight.

Annoyed, Danny followed behind Lancer as they steadily made their way up a further two flights of stairs. They were both panting by the time they reached the arched opening to an intimidating spiral staircase that looked to go on forever.

'Up there?' Danny gasped for air, feeling queasy at the idea that he had to climb even further, 'The only free room they have in the entire castle is in a tower?'

'I suppose it has a great view,' Lancer offered unhelpfully, mopping sweat off his forehead with his tie, 'Your trunk should have already arrived. I'll see you in the Great Hall for breakfast.'

'It'll be lunch by the time I make it all the way down.'

'Goodnight, Fenton.' With a flick of his robes, Lancer wheezed his way back down to the ground floor.

'Great,' Danny huffed to himself, heaving his way onto the first step. It took ten minutes for Danny to reach the top and he immediately sunk down onto the stone tiles.

'What rapscallion has gambled to enter these lands! Dare you try to challenge Sir Cadogan?' a voice barked out.

There was a large portrait in place of a door on the opposite end of the landing. Dressed in a suit of armour sat a man on a rather fat pony, hand resting on the scabbard of a sword.

'What?' Danny said, struggling to catch his breath.

Sir Cadogan, he assumed, pulled out his sword and waved it about, 'Ah, a challenger, I see. Well, you'll not be getting past me I tell you! Back, you rogue! I'll have you not set one foot in this room!'

'But it's my room!' Danny argued.

'Oh, is it?' Sir Cadogan lowered his sword, 'Alright then, young mage, speak the password and you may enter.'

Of course there was a password. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose, 'Look, Lancer didn't give me a password, so can I just get into my room already? It's late and I'm tired—'

The knight gave a jaunty laugh, 'You think me a fool? Trying your trickery to sway my good heart? Have at you!' Sir Cadogan leapt off his pony in a valiant show, only for his foot to catch on a stirrup, sending him tumbling to the ground, his helmet clanking closed across his face.

'I don't have time for this.' Willing himself intangible, Danny slid right through the portrait and into a quaint circular room, his feet barely skimming the ground as he became solid again.

The room was round with a single window featuring a reading nook carved from stone, a set of rich blue velvet curtains framed it to match the four-post bed shoved against the far wall where his trunk sat neatly at the end. Opposite the bed was a grand fireplace which crackled welcomingly. Two tufted armchairs sat in front of it, one which was already occupied.

Dumbledore sat with a faint smile on his lips, his fingers clasped beneath his chin patiently.

'Er, hello.' Danny said awkwardly, letting his feet hit the ground with a soft thump.

'Good evening, Danny. I hope the evening has treated you well?' Dumbledore waved a hand to the seat opposite him.

Danny took the invitation before callously saying, 'As good as being kicked out of your own common room, I guess.'

'Ah,' Dumbledore gave a soft shake of his head, 'That would be my fault, I'm afraid.'

'Why would you do that?' Danny frowned, 'I don't think separating me from the rest of my class is helping me stay, y'know, low-key.'

'No, I suppose it isn't very. However,' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously, 'I thought that it may be easier to have such discussions as this one without the risk of being overheard.'

Danny slumped further into his seat, kicking his legs out in front of him. 'So, what do you want to talk about?'

'I'd like to confer further about your purpose here. There has been much deliberation about how to approach the capture of Sirius Black – his original sentence was to live out the rest of his life in Azkaban. He spent twelve years locked away before he was able to escape.'

'How'd he do it?' Danny asked curiously, 'I thought Azkaban was supposed to be impenetrable.'

'It is unknown by the common man how he escaped, only that he has been able to evade the law ever since.'

Danny stared at him sceptically. 'But you're not some common dude, are you, Dumbledore?'

'No, I suppose I am not.' The Headmaster chuckled. 'Following his escape, his sentence was placed under review and upon capture has now been ordered to receive a dementor's kiss.'

A trill of cold swept down Danny's spine. 'That's… that's just horrible.'

He has only met a Dementor once in his life, following the successful capture of a rather crazed puritan one year before. It had been a ritualistic turnover to the MACUSA before the Dementor arrived, swooping down in billowing rags of black, sucking away even the slimmest glimmers of joy. Danny had felt like his insides had been scooped out with a rusted, jagged spoon.

The Aurors that had accompanied it hadn't stopped it from kneeling over the wizard, who had cried and begged for mercy and Danny had watched in horror as the Dementor greedily grasped the man's chin with a rotting grey hand, before lowering its hood and—

Just the memory of the creature sent the hairs on the back of Danny's neck standing on end. Nobody deserved that sort of life.

Dumbledore nodded, 'I agree. I believe that this harsh turn of punishment has little to do with his actual crimes and more to hide the Ministry's embarrassment over their ill attempts to recapture him. That is why I suggest, upon your own successful capture of Black, that you do not contact the Aurors quite so immediately.'

Danny raised a suspicious brow. 'No one acts sympathetic towards the guy who blows people up.'

'Astute as ever I see, albeit a little crass.' The Headmaster gave him a thin-lipped smile. 'I cannot say for sure if he is innocent or otherwise. I have my suspicions following the events of last year with his godson, but I have no clear evidence at this time.'

'Who's his godson?'

'That would be Harry, my dear boy. Harry Potter.'

Danny gave a clueless shrug and the Dumbledore looked for the first time surprised. 'No-maj,' he offered.

The old man had a peculiar expression as he lifted himself out of the armchair, 'No matter. Another story for another time then. I will be coming to collect you this Thursday evening for your probationary meeting with Head Auror Scrimgeour. It is important that we make a good impression no matter what knowledge we have gathered; as of this moment in time, Sirius Black is still considered by the Ministry 'Undesirable Number One'.'

He had nearly closed the door behind him when he called out, 'Oh, and you might find it useful to know your password; it is The Grim. Goodnight.'

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The next chapter for this story probably won't be out until the new year, so please leave your feedback and what you hope to see from this story as it continues. Happy new year!