HP: A Magical Journey

by Little Merger

Follow Quinn West, who finds himself in the world of Harry Potter, but are things as they seem, is the world he has landed in the same as the one he once read about. Will Quinn able to find his way in this new world? Will he ever be able to feel like he belongs here? What opportunity would the magic of this world provide him? Will it lead him to the light or drown him in the dark?

5. 129

HP: A Magical Journey #Chapter 129 - Q.W.A.S.P.P.: Development In Picture - Read HP: A Magical Journey Chapter 129 - Q.W.A.S.P.P.: Development In Picture Online - All Page - NOVEL NEXT

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[This chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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"What do you think he is going to show us this time?" asked Lia West to her grandfather and career mentor about the upcoming event that she was so excited about.

George West glanced at his beloved granddaughter and faintly beamed the excitement the young woman was showing. Two years ago, she had been reluctant to sit at the same spot in the same room and complained about why she was called back home while working on another project.

But the success from the meeting's result had charmed Lia and George as well. While he didn't show it, George was equally excited about the meeting that was about to start. The result of the first meeting was by far the best product that West business had ever created. It had revolutionized a majority of the mail industry, bringing in massive profits by the day.

"I'm in the same position as you, my child. I have no idea what he will show us today," smiled George and thought about how blessed he was to have Lia and Quinn as his grandchildren.

He had taken Lia under his wing when she graduated from Beauxbatons Academy Of Magic and had been guiding-slash-grooming her to be the next head of the business and his successor. George had some expectations of his granddaughter because Lia had always been an intelligent child ever since she was young. She was the top of her class, had excellent communication skills, and held a genuine interest in joining the business and being a part of the family legacy.

However, Lia had surpassed his expectations. She displayed grit and a hard-working attitude towards the work she was assigned, something George thought Lia would lack at the start and gain with time. She actively took on responsibilities, and even though she made mistakes along the way, her tenacity to learn and implement what she learnt had seen that Lia grew at a steady and rapid rate.

As things were going now, George was confident that the future of the West family and his own legacy would flourish under Lia's hands, and when the time came, he would step down and let the next generation take the lead.

Then there was Quinn West, his amazing grandson. Unlike his sister Lia, Quinn wasn't interested in the family business. George knew that Quinn ran a successful mini-business/service inside Hogwarts, something the ancient school had never seen before. And Quinn was the main contributor to the most significant product that had seen the West business and in the entire magical world in decades.

Regardless, Quinn was interested in magic rather than running a business. Quinn's passion had been clear from a very tender age. Ever since Quinn had performed his first accidental magic, he had been hooked on magic, always looking at magic with starry eyes and with a young curiosity. Besides that, Quinn showed overwhelming talent in the field of magic, a talent level that George had never seen before.

The fact that Quinn could practice wandless magic since the age of five (Quinn's own account) had stunned George and the entire family. At that point, everyone in the family realized how talented Quinn was in magic. All of them came to the anonymous decision that if Quinn wanted to pursue a life in magic, they would fully support him to the best of their ability.

'Oh... Maria, if only you were here...' thought George about his late wife, the love of his life, and felt sad that he couldn't share his happiness with the person he had loved the most.

A knock on the door snapped George out of his thoughts. Lia perked up in her chair.

The door opened, and Quinn entered the room. He was smartly dressed in a well-fit white buttoned-up shirt with faint light blue strips tucked into light gray pants under a darker stone-grey sleeve suit vest. The craftsmanship of the clothes looked non-magical, showing his penchant for buying clothes from the non-magical world and modifying them to his tastes. Though the light brown shoes on his feet were of a magical origin, made from the leather of a Re'em, a magical creature that resembled a giant Ox with golden hide.

Quinn looked calm and relaxed as he entered the room with a comfortable smile on his face. George and Lia immediately felt confident about the upcoming hour because of how Quinn held himself. They both were business people and knew how big MagiFax was and knew that expecting something as notable as MagiFax wouldn't be unreasonable. Their expectation from today was to enjoy what Quinn created, and if it was marketable, they would put it into production. Quinn's relaxed demeanor showed them that he was confident in what he was about to show them, and that raised their confidence in Quinn.

"Good afternoon," greeted Quinn as he closed the door behind him and walked towards the table George and Lia were sitting behind; interestingly, he didn't have anything in his hands. He effortlessly waved his hands for the barstool at a corner which slid across the room, and stopped beside Quinn.

To this day, George and Lia still felt surprised when Quinn used wandless magic. Last summer, Quinn didn't have control over magic, and when he regained it, it was time for him to go back to Hogwarts. They didn't get to see wandless magic from him until Quinn returned home for Christmas and Easter breaks. Quinn entertained their requests during those breaks and showed him what he could do without a wand or a focus.

It boggled their minds how great at magic Quinn was; he, without a wand, was leagues better than children his age were with wands. He had shown them enough magic to confirm that Quinn was way better than most adult magicals and could be considered well versed in magic.

"I hope I didn't make you two wait," spoke Quinn as he sat down on the barstool and faced them. "It's good to do this after so long; a shame that we had to skip out on this last year. Unfortunately, my health didn't permit me to conduct an event like this." Quinn didn't look sad as he summarized the events of last summer: although a tough time, he had gained essential lessons from it.

"I'm healthy this time and I had a lot more time to create some interesting items and products that might intrigue you," continued Quinn making eye contact with his grandfather and sister. "And with some luck, let's hope that the items I show you today will bring prosperity to our family and, in turn, all the people around the world who work for us."

Quinn felt good sitting in front of George and Lia. He then introduced some of his inventions to them. His inventions were practical applications of the magic he learned; Quinn strongly believed in applying whatever he studied. Theoretical knowledge was incomplete if it couldn't be used in real life to create something. Of course, Quinn couldn't use everything he learned, but he tried to utilise whatever he could apply.

"Welcome to Quinn West's Annual Summer Product Pitch Meetings, abbreviated as QWASPPM," grinned Quinn. He had coined his pitch meeting with a new title and a long, nonsensical abbreviation.

George lightly chuckled while Lia softly giggled; if it was someone else, they wouldn't have shown this reaction, but this was Quinn, and they were family, so being decompressed like this was acceptable. And even if Quinn spoke like this to someone else, he wouldn't have gotten in trouble after the success of MagiFax.

One product had turned into multiple lines of products with various specifications for diverse customer bases. The profits that MagiFax brought were enough for Quinn to act any way he liked. Of course, except for the family, no one knew that Quinn had developed MagiFax. The designs for MagiFax were under the name of the West business, and Quinn was simply granted a share of profits that George had set up for him.

"So what do you have for us today?" inquired Lia; her excitement peaking in anticipation.

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Quinn gazed at Lia, slipped his hand inside his vest, and took out a potion vial from his detachable expanded pocket. After placing the vial with the translucent red potion on the table, Quinn's hand once again went into the pockets and took out a rectangle, long policy-styled envelope, placing it on the table beside the vial.

"As you know, I usually frequent Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop in Hogsmeade during my time at Hogwarts," started Quinn, and the other two nodded. Quinn had been caught in between the abduction of Harry Potter when he was returning from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. It was safe to say that Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was the store that Quinn visited the most in Hogsmeade. "The shop, being a stationery-cum-printing store, provides many printing services when not serving the students of Hogwarts with their stationery needs. And one of the services that the manager Gary provides is developing film to produce photographs..."

The cameras that were used by magical society were analog film cameras and were non-magical products from the early nineties. These cameras didn't need a single spell to take photographs; everything from the camera components to the film used was non-magical in origin. This was the reason why they weren't flagged by the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, which regulated the use of magic on non-magical objects and tried to keep items that had been bewitched away from non-magical folks.

The magic behind the signature moving photographs of the magical world didn't come from the camera but from the developing method. The developing solution was a potion that, when used in the developing of photographs, allowed the pictures to move. And because of that developing potion, the magical world could use non-magical equipment to add photography into their culture.

"... Let's put the moving photographs aside for this talk and focus on color," continued Quinn while talking out three more objects from inside his suit vest, placed them on the table, and faced them towards Lia and George. "Now, let's see what we have here."

The three objects that Quinn took out were two pages and one photograph. The two pages had one photo on them; one colored and one black-and-white. The third photograph was a colored print like any other shot printed on a photo paper. This one was a 3R(3.5"X5" / 8.89cm X 12.7cm) size.

"We know that adding color to a picture is possible as seen on this paper and photo," noted Quinn while tapping on the paper with the colored picture and the colored photograph. "But the problem is that it is costlier to achieve colour in photographs. Colour photographs are only seen in framed photographs or family albums because we can't achieve it in mass production."

Quinn placed his finger on the page with the black-and-white picture and pushed it towards Lia and George. "Pictures like this are what we see in books, newspapers, and magazines. Only a few very costly books and magazines with high subscription costs showcase colored pictures, and even those have a limited number of colored pictures."

Lia and George stared at the three pictures on the table, and they were well familiar with what Quinn was talking about. Both of them had subscriptions to a few magazines that showcased colored pictures, but they were priced much higher than something like the Quibbler that Quinn was subscribed to.

"The cost of the ingredients used in the developing solution that enables colored pictures to move is just too high for mass production printing like newspapers. That's why the market is filled with black-and-white images and lacks the gift of vibrant colors which, when combined with moving pictures, really catches the eye."

George and Lia's eyes immediately went to the potion vial as they took a guess about the vial's contents. Quinn, who saw their reactions beamed, they were correct in their guess about the vial contents.

"Yes... you're guessing correctly. It's exactly what you think it is," said Quinn, causing George and Lia to look above at him. "Once again, I present to you a product that will revolutionise the world of printing."

Quinn picked up the vial and shook it in front of them. "This one potion can be used to develop films with color and can be used to add color to mass printing like newspapers. If you put this potion into the developing tank of photo films it will give color to moving pictures. If you mix this potion with any of the cheapest of the coloured inks that don't support moving photos, the inks will move, so we'll get coloured photos."

Lia and George waited without speaking a word because the main issue still wasn't addressed. If the main problem for why colored moving photos weren't more prevalent wasn't solved, then all of this was useless.

"... I got estimates from Gary about how cheap the potion must be for printers to turn a profit by selling colored newspapers and books." The confident smile on Quinn gained then a bit of smugness. "This potion is below the price that Gary quoted, and thus, I, Quinn West, will provide the world's cheapest colored developing potion."

Lia and George stared at the potion vial on the table and the translucent red solution inside. The possibilities flashed inside their brains, and if what was promised was true, then this was huge. They would once again hold a monopoly over print media supplies because before anyone figured the recipe or created a recipe with similar effects, they wouldn't have any competitors.

This product was also perfect for a business like Wests. They operated in multiple countries and would directly spread the product without a middleman in numerous countries. Even the countries they didn't have a base in would be a targeted market if they could figure out transportation logistics.

"With colour will come the need for new printing press," explained Quinn. His potion had the potential to revolutionize the printing industry and push them into the color era in one push, but to accomplish that, the world needed infrastructure. "The black-and-white printing machines that can print fast for newspapers and books won't work anymore. We need printing machines that print fast and in color."

Unlike George and Lia, who had just heard this, Quinn had worked on this for a few months. He had time to think about what would be needed to make the item a widespread success and not a modest one.

"During the Easter break, I went to some non-magical places, and even though it took some searching and magic, I found the blueprints of some of the colour printing presses that existed before computers," revealed Quinn. Whenever he went to non-magical places, Quinn would leave while informing that he was going to a non-magical zone; Quinn never specified where he was going except if it was to the gym. That's why none of his family had any idea when he got his hand on blueprints for the printing presses.

Quinn saw a confused look on George's face, while Lia knew what he was talking about. "It's okay, grandfather, you don't have to know what a computer is. I'll explain it to you some other day. It's quite fascinating. We'll have to take a trip to the non-magical society, though."

Quinn had made sure that Lia was normalized with the non-magical culture, and that included the computer. If she was to do business in the non-magical world, she needed to know what a computer was and how it worked. It was lucky that Lia was adaptive, if nothing else, and knew how to follow up to keep up with the development in the non-magical world.

"In any case, I found a printing press that could work without a computer, but did work on electricity, so I had to strip the electrical components from the design from it and had to modify it so that it would work with magic instead," sighed Quinn.

He thought about the hours upon hours he had spent for months to figure out how the printer worked and study the mechanics so that he didn't mess things up. It had taken Quinn a hell of a lot of time because he had to build it up from a blueprint and understand every single problem, including troubleshooting the hiccups that he faced along the way.

"After figuring out how to get electricity out of the equation, the rest of it was easy. Replacing electricity with magic was mighty easy because I know magic better than I know electricity. And I know what you're thinking; the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Offices from across the globe banning this press. Don't worry, while it works on magic and is automated to a large extent, I made it so that in the hands of a non-magical, it would be a large useless waste of metal."

"I will give you the final design later, and you can have it checked later. Though you would have to move the prototype built in my suitcase out of there to take it away." Finally, Quinn pushed the envelope towards the front and tapped on it for emphasis. "This here is the recipe for the developing potions. But I have a few simple demands before I allow the family business to use these."

"Demands?" repeated George and leaned away from the envelope. He studied his grandson while trying to deduce what he wanted in return for the potion recipe. "... and, what are these demands?"

"Nothing serious. I'm not going to ask something outrageous... I'd like the subsidiary where we'll release the potion and printing presses to be named Silver Moon Printing Magitech."

Whenever the West family business entered a new sector, they would create a new subsidiary with a new name. The West family business would act as the parent company to all their subsidiaries that spread across diverse markets.

"And the developer potion to be named 'Lunar developer 1'" smiled Quinn, remembering the day he decided to start this project

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Quinn walked into his A.I.D. workshop the week after the Christmas break and felt the festive spirit die down, as the Christmas/New year decorations were removed.

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Inside the workshop, he found Luna sitting by the center aisle workstation with her painting set opened up on the worktop. Quinn smiled after he saw the paint set. He had been the one who had gifted her that paint set along with many other supplies to Luna a short while back.

"Good evening, Luna," greeted Quinn. He removed his robe and took out a hanger from a cupboard to hang his outer Hogwarts robe. "What are you painting today?"

"Good evening, I'm painting the Quibbler," replied Luna shortly, not looking up at Quinn.

"The Quibbler?" repeated Quinn in surprise and confusion as he turned towards his assistant and saw this week's issue of Quibbler opened in front of her.

"Uh-huh," nodded Luna as he picked up pink paint on her brush from the color palette. "The Quibbler doesn't have color. I asked daddy to add color to the pictures and pages, but he said it wasn't possible. All these creatures in the articles are so pretty and happy, but they don't have colour. So I decided to paint all my Quibbler issues to give them colour."

Quinn sat down opposite Luna and stared at the blonde as she hummed a tune while continuing to paint and swinging her legs under the desk. He looked at his assistant/junior/dear friend and knew that out of everybody he knew, Luna was the person who held the greatest interest and love towards the fine arts.

She would regularly take on new projects like paintings, drawings, mosaics, caricatures, portraits, calligraphy, and other types of visual arts. It was the reason Quinn had brought her the paint supplies in return for her incidental but much-appreciated disturbance while he was talking to Daphne, Tracey, and Astoria about him being sighted by the Slytherin common room lake windows.

'Colour, huh...' thought Quinn as he stared at the half uncolored page of The Quibbler magazine and Luna's color palette. 'Let's make something new, shall we?'

From that day onwards, Quinn started to research why coloured moving pictures were so costly and found that the existing recipes spread across the market were too high for mass production. The ingredients that were used took time to grow, and the potion took time to brew.

Hence, Quinn took some books inside his ever-growing library and started to read on pigment potions and the range of ingredients that could be used to brew the various types of development potions. The answer to the solution was present right in front of Quinn; his books from across the globe held snippets of knowledge that, combined, could create a cheap potion recipe that stood above the colour standards of the current market.

He used the preferred colour pigments and developing-solution potions of different magical cultures since the times of ages-old paintings and murals. He studied their composition, contacted Gary to get his opinion, wrote home to Elliot to get samples, and conducted experiments to create a modern alternative to them that was cheaper and took less time to brew.

It took months of research and development while working on other projects but Quinn successfully developed a potion recipe that worked with photographs, paints, inks, and a few other types of pigments.

...

Luna had been the inspiration and reason behind creating his potion recipe, so he decided that Luna must be mentioned in some way. Quinn knew how the West family business operated and how they built subsidiaries for every new industry and since he was the creator of the product, he should have a say in the name.

So here he was, demanding that the inspiration behind his creation be honoured.

Lia and George looked at each other, and Lia shrugged in acceptance. She didn't mind naming the new subsidiary what Quinn wanted, and because the product name matched the company name, it was all good.

"Lunar developer 1?" asked George, wondering about the number in the product name.

"You can use the number one (1) in the internal records and remove it from the marketing name," answered Quinn and then crossed his arms as he stared at the potion vial on the table. "This potion recipe still has a lot of room for development. I'm sure that after some time, the potion recipe will improve, so Lunar developer 1 is the current product; the future might hold a better product than this."

Quinn knew that it wouldn't take time to figure out the potion recipe when it spread across the world, and alternates would rise given time. In those times, the Lunar developer would need to grow to stand apart from the competition.

"Set up a research and development department inside the new company and ask them to find ways to constantly research improvements to the recipe," said Quinn and removed his eyes from the vial to look up. "With all the other things I'm doing, it will take maybe a couple of years before I can revamp the entire recipe and give you a new version that will be much better than this one. So until then, employ potioneers and herbologists should add subtle improvements to remain at the top of the industry."

Quinn didn't have time to keep working on the potion recipe, and there was no need to create a better one while the one he had was the best on the market, and nothing else was even close to it. He was going to pause his research of pigment potions for a while until it was time to develop a new one, which would be a major improvement.

"Do you agree?" asked Quinn.

"We agree," nodded Lia, and George, too, nodded with a smile.

Quinn had provided them another product to put them on the top of yet another market and bring in rolling profits.

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Quinn West - MC - Inventor extraordinaire.

George West - Grandfather/Big boss - Happy that his legacy is secure.

Lia West - Sister/Rising in ranks - Thinking about how this will change the advertisement and marketing game.

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"Let's move onto the next product, shall we?" said Quinn after the film-developing potion and the new color printing press pitch was over. "I've another market-dominating product that has the potential to replace the existing product and replace it till it no longer has a market share."

"That sounds promising," commented Lia. Her confidence in Quinn was at an all-time high. In Lia's eyes, Quinn was the treasure chest that would give out precious treasures when opened.

"I have been using this since my second year," spoke Quinn while taking out a thin metal strip with a rune etched onto the surface. "I've been using this in office and workshop at Hogwarts. It's also everywhere in my suitcase."

Lia and George stared at the hexagonal plate of metal the size of a drink coaster. They could see a rune cluster of shallow depth etched across the surface; they couldn't recognize the function of the runes from a first glance, so they looked up at Quinn for an introduction and explanation.

The window in the room that let in sunlight, lighting up the space in natural light, turned opaque, blocking the majority of the light from entering inside and plunging the room into darkness.

"When the sun sets, the source of light in all buildings across the globe are ever-lasting (long-lasting) candles." Quinn's voice sounded in the dark as he introduced the product. "Be it rooms without windows or underground areas, you would find ever-lasting candles or torches lighting up the room. It's a household item that people probably couldn't live without, but what if I told you that I have created something that could replace something as prominent as ever-lasting candles."

Around this time, Lia and George's eyes adjusted to the light, and they could see a faint smile across Quinn's face.

"I present you M.L.E: Magical Light Emitter," spoke Quinn as he said it; the hexagonal metal plate glowed up and bathed the room in a faint white light. As Quinn continued to talk, the light from the M.L.E. got stronger. "An amalgamation of light-based runes, integrated together to produce light rivaling a well-executed and boosted Lumos charm and perfect for lighting up rooms."

Just before the light got uncomfortably bright to directly look at, Quinn took out a glass hemisphere from his pockets and fixed it above the hexagonal plate. The glass worked as an excellent buffer and diffused the light from the runes to create similar effects to an electric light bulb.

The M.L.E floated up as Quinn levitated it with his magic, and soon it was at the ceiling, dome side down, dispersing clean white light to a part of the room.

"Now the question is why should we switch from ever-lasting candles to M.L.E," spoke Quinn, bringing to attention the biggest challenge to the success of a product. "I would say that because of the nature of an open flame, the setting of candles and torches is limited. The number of candles needed to properly is large. But with M.L.E, that number is cut short by a lot."

He pointed at the M.L.E on the roof and pointed out. "This one is the simplest model that I have created, and it can light up a third of a fairly sizeable room. I have stronger models and can be used in different scenarios: ambient indoor lighting, ambient outdoor lighting, task lighting, accent lightings. In short, I have different a line of products that have been optimized to work in different scenarios. Unlike the massively inefficient ever-lasting flame products, I have created products that target efficiency and would be massively better than the current ever-lasting products."

Quinn clapped his hands, and the white light turned to yellow, then to red, purple, green, blue, and multitudes of colors. Lia and George stared above to see the color of light change with every second, and under Quinn's command, the intensity and warmth of the light also switched with the second.

"I can do all this with just one prototype, so think what I could do with things that created to fit certain needs," spoke Quinn.

What had started as 「Project: Edison」 in his A.I.D project files had become so big that it had turned into a vast array of applications. And because Quinn lived in Hogwarts for most of his year, he saw different types of rooms and spaces requiring different lighting types. Somewhere along the line, Quinn started to analyze areas in terms of lighting, and soon, he had a line of products that he could use to light any place he desired.

"How about I give you a little demonstration about what I am talking about. Something that will exactly show you what I am talking about," spoke Quinn, and the M.L.E on the top dropped down for Quinn to catch it and place it back on the table. He also switched the M.L.E off, and the room went dark once again.

"This is what I saw when I say proper lighting," declared Quinn, and suddenly the room was lit up like it was a non-magical conference room. The M.L.E Quinn had hidden in the ceilings using illusion charms became visible and lit up according to the configuration he had pre-determined. The room was lit up evenly and clearly, while the table area was slightly brighter than the rest of the room.

George looked at the room and felt more impressed than anyone because he was used to candle lighting, which always left parts of the room in darkness. But currently, every single corner of the room was lit. And he felt the new white hue much better than the yellow light that he was used to; grandson and grandfather both preferred white to yellow.

"We can install these in our stores, and it will attract more customers," spoke up George as his mind started to turn on applications. "Just by using these lighting, our stores would stand out more than any other store in the area."

"And if we can get more people in the stores, the chances of them buying something would increase, meaning more sales," concluded Lia as her mind too made connections.

Quinn nodded as he had first-hand seen the effect of lighting. When he had changed the lighting in his office, it created an impressive impact on every student that ever visited the office. For an entire year, students would stare at the lights before talking about their problems. And it extended to every new student he served this year. Just one little change made the students think that Quinn's office was unique and reinforced a positive impression of A.I.D as a service.

"... There is one another thing that I would like to discuss with you two," spoke Quinn, and he wasn't sure how Lia and George would react to his upcoming suggestion.

"What is it?" asked George, still staring at the lights on the ceilings.

"Would you like me to build a planned obsolescence in the various M.L.E products?" spoke Quinn, hesitant about adding something in his products that would knowingly limit the actual capabilities.

"Planned obsolescence?" questioned George, not familiar with the term. Even Lia didn't understand the word.

"Planning or designing a product with an artificially limited useful life or a purposely frail design, so that it becomes obsolete after a certain pre-determined period upon which it decrementally functions or suddenly ceases to function," explained Quinn and introduced his family with the new concept. "The rationale behind this strategy is to generate long-term sales volume by reducing the time between repeat purchases. It is the deliberate shortening of a lifespan of a product to force people to purchase functional replacements."

Quinn tapped the M.L.E on the table and continued with context, "My current designs of M.L.E have a life expectancy of a hundred thousand hours (100,00 hrs). After those active hours, the runes on the metal would stop working... but I can add some runes that would reduce the life expectancy to say something like... ten thousand hours (10,000 hrs). That way, the customers would have to buy new ones after those ten thousand hours (10,000 hrs)."

Contrived durability was a strategy of shortening the product lifetime before releasing it onto the market by designing it to deteriorate before the actual lifespan. The idea of planned obsolescence was something Quinn thought of because of its occurrence in non-magical history.

On 23 December 1924, a group of leading international businessmen gathered in Geneva for a meeting that would alter the world for decades to come. Present were top representatives from all the major lightbulb manufacturers, including Germany's Osram, the Netherlands' Philips, France's Compagnie des Lampes, and the United States's General Electric.

As revelers hung Christmas lights elsewhere in the city, the group founded the 「Phoebus Cartel」. This supervisory body would carve up the worldwide incandescent lightbulb market, with each national and regional zone assigned its own manufacturers and production quotas. It was the first cartel in history to enjoy a truly global reach.

The Phoebus Cartel's grip on the lightbulb market lasted into the 1930s. The cartel's far more enduring legacy was to engineer a shorter life span for the incandescent lightbulb. By early 1925, this became codified at 1,000 hours for a pear-shaped household bulb, a marked reduction from the 1,500 to 2,000 hours that had previously been common.

Cartel members rationalized this approach as a trade-off: Their lightbulbs were of higher quality, more efficient, and brighter burning than other bulbs. They also cost a lot more. Indeed, all evidence points to the cartel's being motivated by profits and increased sales, not by what was best for the consumer.

In carefully crafting a lightbulb with a relatively short life span, the cartel thus hatched the industrial strategy known as planned obsolescence. They reduced the lifetime capacity of their bulbs from 2,500 hrs to 1,000 hrs and thus ensuring that their profits would increase due to the demand they had artificially manufactured.

And Quinn stood in the same position as them. His M.L.E were better in every single aspect than the current products, and that included the lifespan. If Quinn was to release the M.L.E as they were, they would last forty-five years with an average of six hours of daily usage. That meant buying M.L.E would become a once or twice in a lifetime purchase, meaning that the West profits see explosive profits, but they would subside when the demand would be fulfilled after a single purchase.

"What do you suggest?" asked Lia; she calculated the lifespan from what data Quinn had given and understood what it entailed. "If what you suggest is true, then we might eradicate the lighting industry upon the release of these."

"From a business point of view, I would suggest that we cap the lifespan of M.L.E products according to their use. Like, personal home bulbs go bad after ten thousand hours (10,000 hrs), and for products like large floodlights that might be used in underground places like the Ministry of Magic, I could design them to last longer because those work all day round. In short, we can decide the lifespan according to the use of a specific product," suggested Quinn.

Lia thought for a second before turning to George and asked, "What should we do?"

George moved his eyes between his two grandchildren, and after thinking for a good minute, he turned to Lia and announced his decision.

"You decide."

Lia blinked a couple of seconds, and after comprehending the short sentence, she inquired, "I decide?"

"Yes, what you decide will be the path of the company. This decision is solely for you to take. I am leaving this up to you," clarified George. This was the best opportunity to test Lia's progress and her decision-making abilities. Lia had been working under his mentorship for nearly seven years, and George thought that this was the correct time to see how she would perform when faced with a vital decision.

Lia briefly glanced at Quinn, who looked at her without any change in expression, before turning back to George to see if he was serious. The older man was entirely serious and looked at his granddaughter, waiting for her decision.

Lia West, a seven-year career woman, turned her eyes to the M.L.E on the table before looking up at M.L.Es on the ceiling. She thought hard and long about the decision that had been placed on her. The decision that could change the lives of many and transform the lifestyle of millions of people.

"We will go with the planned obsolescence like Quinn suggested," started Lia as she gazed at Quinn. "We will decide the lifespans later on, and you will give me a write-up on your recommendations. I want to know what do you think the lifespan should be. This is what we're going to do. When we sell the M.L.Es, we will say that runes wear off after the time that we're going to decide. We're going to offer the customers an offer: when the M.L.E dies, they can bring in the old rune plate and deposit it to us for a discount for the new M.L.E."

She turned to Quinn and asked, "If you plant planned obsolescence into the M.L.E, what are the chances that someone will figure out what we're doing? Do you think someone will decode the runes while trying to figure out how to make the M.L.Es?"

"No, unlike this one," pointed Quinn at the M.L.E on the table. "The designs that I will pass onto you won't have the runes carved on the surface for everyone to see. I took planned obsolescence into account and designed the entire product line with an anti-piracy design approach. If they open the product up for any reason, the rune cluster will break down and become gibberish."

"That's great; one less worry to stress about," nodded Lia in appreciation. "On the production side of things, we're going to divide the production between different groups. No single worker will know how to carve the entire runic cluster. I'm going to go on a limb and say that we're going to split the production process between countries. Every stage of the process would be in a different factory. It will up the cost by a level, but I think I can figure out a way to cut costs... grandfather, you will have to help me out on this one. I'm not experienced in the multi-country production process."

"Don't worry, I will guide you through the process," smiled George, satisfied with the decisions that Lia was making. The decision to split the production to keep the trade information a secret had impressed George, given that Lia only had a brief time to come up with a base strategy.

Quinn silently watched as his sister and grandfather bounced ideas back and forth on a product that he created. His worries about introducing something that could eradicate an entire industry was relieved seeing his family's initiative and response. Quinn had taken out the M.L.E with the full expectations that it would be rejected by them and had set his expectations accordingly: he would've been satisfied with creating M.L.Es for family and friends and no one else.

He didn't have the desire to make everything he made to become popular and be available to the public. The products that he mad were foremost just a way to solidify and check his learnings. The decision to sell them was because he came from a business family and if he could help them grow, then that would be a thing that Quinn would gladly help in.

The second Q.W.A.S.P.P ended after Quinn, the inventor, introduced two lines of products that had massive market-changing potential to his investors, Lia and George.

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Quinn West - MC - Conscious about the potential of his products.

Lia West - Career Woman - Somethings are too good to pass upon.

George West - Big boss - Proud granddaddy.

FictionOnlyReader - Author - Read some interesting history and had to share it with you all.

.

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[The chapter is edited by Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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Bartemius "Barty" Crouch Junior entered a well-decorated hall with a scowl that didn't suit the beauty of the room. If the gaze in his eyes held magic within them, he would've burned through everything he set his eyes upon.

"What has made you so upset, eh, Barty?"

Barty Jr. gazed towards the ornate dining table in the room to see Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew reading a newspaper while sitting in a chair with a cup of tea on the table in front of him. He looked relaxed, as if he didn't have any care in the world. As if he was enjoying the small pleasures of life.

"Moody! That one-eyed freak is weirdly resistant to the Imperious," spat Barty with a toxic tone. "He has begun to somewhat refuse to answer my questions."

Peter looked at Barty. He attributed this to two reasons. First, that Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody was simply a freak of nature with an iron will to resist an Imperious, and second, that Barty Jr., who had not been allowed a wand for over a decade was still rusty when it came to magic. Even he himself had been terrible with magic for a few months after getting out of Azkaban.

"I'll help you to worm information out of Mad-Eye," spoke Peter, picking his cup to sip on some tea. "It's imperative that we get as much information from him before you go to Hogwarts. You have to know everything about him, from the way he moves to the way he behaves. You will be working in close quarters with Dumbledore; anything less than perfect isn't acceptable."

After they found out that Dumbledore had asked Moody to come to Hogwarts and teach Defense Against Dark Arts, the Dark Lord had ordered them to capture the ex-Auror so that they could infiltrate Hogwarts for his plans and schemes for his revival. He had been kept under the Imperius curse constantly to gain information about himself so that Barty Jr. could impersonate him.

"You will help me?" scoffed Barty Jr. He looked down on Wormtail as he continued, "Don't act all high and mighty just because you found the Dark Lord. I still remember the cowardly you. Don't behave as if nobody remembers that. You'll always be that pathetic rat who twitches at the slightest of movements. You'll never be a true servant of our Lord."

Peter set down his teacup back on the table and folded his newspaper. He then stood up from his chair and walked towards Barty Jr. He didn't seem angry at Barty Jr.'s cutting words.

"If I remember correctly, you cried for your mum during the time you were in Azkaban, didn't you?" spoke Wormtail with a calm tone. Barty Jr.'s eyes twitched. He growled. "What was it? Only a month with six dementors assigned to you? That's what you enjoyed in Azkaban, wasn't it? Before your mother took your place and allowed you to escape. You say that you remember the old me, but do you know that the 'true' Death Eaters you respect who didn't escape Azkaban were there when you screamed for your mum like a f*cking whiny little b*tch? They will remember that."

In 1982, his mother's health deteriorated drastically from the stress of her son's imprisonment. In the end, she persuaded her husband to help smuggle their son out of Azkaban. The couple had been allowed to visit due to Bartemius' high status in the Ministry and as Mrs. Crouch's dying wish. Using Polyjuice Potion, undetected by the blind Dementors, Mrs. Crouch took her son's place. She died a short time later and was buried outside the fortress under the guise of her son.

"What you experienced was a happy trip to Azkaban," chuckled Wormtial, but Barty Jr. could see his haunting eyes. "I suffered ten dementors for over a decade. Do you know how it feels to have everything sucked out by those relentless demons for eleven long years? Not spared a single moment of happiness. To be drowned in misery for a decade."

Barty Jr., who thought of himself as the greatest follower to Lord Voldemort, became silent for once and listened to Wormtail. He couldn't recognise this Wormtail from the one he knew before.

"Hmm? Tell me, how is it to be cared for as if you were an infant by a house-elf as we experienced hell in Azkaban," mocked Wormtail. "Was it hard to get three hot meals, a soft bed, and luxuries? Tell me your struggles, Barty. Tell me the horrifying moments you suffered through while the dementors hovered over you."

Peter stared up at the taller man and smiled, "Don't forget that I just didn't find the Dark Lord. If I hadn't found Bertha Jorkins, the Dark Lord would've never ripped past through the memory charm that your father placed on her. If not for me, we wouldn't have come to rescue you. Without me, you would still be rotting beneath an invisibility cloak under your father's imperious..."

All of it had started when the Dark Lord decided to gather information about the wizarding world. He started with Bertha Jorkins, a ministry employee that Peter had brought along with him while looking for the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had been surprised after he found that someone had put a powerful Memory Charm on her upon torturing her. After breaking the charm, he learned from her that this year the Triwizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts and that Alastor Moody, an ex-Auror, would teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. She also knew that Bartemius Crouch Jr, one of his most loyal Death Eaters that apparently had been imprisoned in Azkaban after his fall and was thought to be dead, was alive.

Voldemort, unable to possess her body and mind that was damaged by the spells he cast, killed her. Voldemort also knew that Peter's status would attract too much attention, so he didn't possess his body either. Together, they built a rudimentary body that Voldemort used for travel and performing magic. While in this form, Voldemort was forced to drink a Rudimentary body potion made from unicorn blood and venom from Nagini, whom he had turned his Horcrux using Bertha Jorkins.

After creating himself a body, Peter and Voldemort moved to the Crouch residence. Voldemort needed a loyal follower to help him regain power and easily managed to free Barty Jr. from his father's imprisonment. They put Bartemius Sr. under the Imperius Curse and forced him to keep working at the Ministry as he usually would. The house-elf, Winky, who had been caring for Barty Jr. for a decade, was killed without a single thought as she, sadly, provoked the wrath of the Dark Lord.

They stayed at the Riddle House in Little Hangleton for a while because Voldemort wanted to stay close to Little Hangleton's graveyard. Still, Peter convinced Voldemort to move to the house of the Crouch family, away from the muggle population. Since then, the trio had been living in the Crouch residence while planning their future moves.

"... Bartemius Junior, keep in mind why you are here and who you're talking to because, if you don't, things might just surprise you, and that surprise won't be a pleasant one," said Wormtail before walking back to his chair and resume what he was doing.

Barty Jr. looked at Peter and recalled a chat he had had with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had told him that he had rescued him because of his loyalty. The Dark Lord told him that he didn't trust Wormtail and that Barty's presence filled him with relief in that turbulent time.

Right then, he understood why the Dark Lord didn't trust Peter Pettigrew. The man he saw now and the man he was a decade ago were just too different. Neither he nor the Dark Lord believed that Peter would look for the Dark Lord after escaping Azkaban; that he would run away from everything and leave behind the life that had put him into Azkaban. But unexpectedly, Peter didn't run away and looked for the Dark Lord.

As he stood there looking at Peter, Barty held himself from lashing back.

'It isn't the right time,' thought Barty Jr. 'The Dark Lord will reward me when he returns to power. Then, we will see who matters more. All that matters is the Dark Lord and his return.'

Barty Jr. gave Peter one last look and then turned towards the door. It was time to see his Lord, who had called him to discuss some things. Unlike Peter, Barty Jr. was a true and faithful follower and would never betray his Lord. He didn't notice the look that Peter gave him when he turned, missing his cold, calculative gaze.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Quinn laid on the bed. He was reading a book that hovered in his head while occasionally turning pages without actually touching the book. His fake wand lazily laid in his hand and his eyes moved left-to-right on the lines as he moved down the pages.

He removed his eyes from the book. He had heard the noise of a discordant crunch and continuous things snapping together, which created a popcorn of satisfying clicks in his ears. The repeated sound rang in Quinn's ears. It was like white noise, but was so satisfying that Quinn had to look at the source of the noise.

Quinn watched as a dainty hand picked up tan-colored plastic bricks while adding them to a grand, yet incomplete structure with a satisfying snap. One by one, the plastic blocks, which looked like bricks, started to be added to the structure. And with each addition, the structure moved towards what looked like a castle. The conical tops were grey, whereas the rest of the building was tan in color.

"Luna, there are two protrusions rather than three in the big tower," said Quinn as he saw his blonde junior add a mini castle head to the side of two other castle heads that extended from a much larger castle tower.

Luna Lovegood looked at him with her dreamy eyes and blinked a couple of times before nodding and silently removing the third mini castle head, leaving the other two alone. She looked at the work-in-progress, which was a representation of Hogwarts made from what Quinn had gifted her, Legos.

At first, she didn't understand the aim of those Lego bricks, but after Quinn sat her down and made a small cabin surrounded by woods from a load of bricks together, she understood the potential of the gift Quinn had given to her. From that day onwards, Luna got obsessed with Legos and started to build so many things from her imagination; from buildings to magical creatures to… well, anything Luna could imagine. Just as Quinn had promised her when he gifted her the boxes full of colorful bricks, tiles, plates, studs, and tubes type Legos.

"Are you going to help me?" asked Luna while continuing to add Legos to the incomplete Hogwarts castle, which was only in an initial stage- as Luna planned to recreate the landscape around the castle.

"Yeah," spoke Quinn, took out a thin A-4 size notebook, and handed it to Luna.

"What's this?" inquired Luna and opened the notebook to see detailed sketches of every part of the Hogwarts exterior sketched onto the numerous pages. Some were up close; others were from far away, from a bird-eyes view, or from the ground. As Luna flipped the pages, she saw every conceivable angle of Hogwarts she could think of.

"You can reference those for your build," muttered Quinn and continued to read his book. He had a mental structure of Hogwarts inside his head; he was sure that he knew Hogwarts better than anyone else. So after Luna sent him a MagiFax about her upcoming build, Quinn drew up an entire notebook worth of Hogwart shorts.

"So you aren't going to help me?" asked Luna once again, setting the notebook aside. Quinn raised his fake wand prompting Luna to immediately interject, "Without magic."

Quinn snatched the book out of the air and snapped it close. The book went back into his expandable pockets, and he slipped down from the bed to the blue rug that was spread on the floor of Luna's room in the Lovegood house.

"What do you want me to take care of?" asked Quinn.

"The viaduct bridge, please," answered Luna.

"Alright. One bridge coming up," nodded Quinn, and his hands went into the box of legos.

As the two Ravenclaws built Hogwarts, Quinn occasionally looked around the room while recalling how Luna's room had been described in the books. He remembered that in The Deathly Hallows, Harry had described Luna's room and had come across his and the other Ministry Five's faces painted on the ceiling with the word "friends" written in golden ink, creating a circle around each of them and connecting them together. Currently, the top was bare with no faces or any other mural painted on it.

In the books, Harry described Luna as having pictures of hers and her mother in the frame, and this was true, as he saw Luna and Pandora Lovegood in photos together. But what made Quinn smile was the fact that there were more photos in Luna's room other than her mother's.

He saw familiar photos: photos of him, Luna, Eddie, and Marcus, together at Hogwarts. He and Luna together at the A.I.D. office. Luna playing catch with Eddie while flying on a broom. Marcus and Luna playing chess in the Ravenclaw common room. A few photos from Luna's second year at Hogwarts, the year she became a part of Quinn's friend circle.

'Have to make sure that she makes more memories,' thought Quinn and went back to putting blocks into the structure.

"Quinn, is Hogwarts a girl or a boy?" asked Luna.

"Hogwarts is a lady, Luna," answered Quinn.

"How do you know?"

"Don't know, I just think Hogwarts is a lady... Lady Hogwarts just sounds right."

"Lady Hogwarts... Lord Hogwarts... hmm, you're right, Lady Hogwarts sounds better," nodded Luna. "So we live inside a girl?"

"..."

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- (Scene Break) -

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Ivy Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley walked on a stamped-out path between the grass. They were surrounded by trees and flowers that grew in patches; there wasn't a single sign of urbanization in sight.

"How much more do we have to walk?" asked Ivy as they moved across the small, quaint village known as Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, England.

The village had both muggle and magical communities, the latter being quietly established after the Statute of Secrecy in the 17th century. Four wizarding families were known to live around Ottery St. Catchpole: the Weasleys, the Fawcetts, the Diggorys, and the Lovegoods.

"It's a fifteen-minute walk, so maybe five minutes more," answered Ginny. She paused to pick up a wild lavender flower. She added it to a bouquet of flowers she had collected during their walk.

The three were walking towards the Lovegood house on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole. The three girls had escaped the Burrow, home to the Weasley family when the Quidditch talk about the upcoming tournament had become too much for Ivy and Hermione.

And as much as Ginny enjoyed Quidditch, she, too, wanted to get out so she tagged along with Ivy and Hermione. After they got out of the house, they thought about what to do and somehow came to the conclusion that they should go see Luna Lovegood, who lived on the opposite side of the village.

"How is Luna Lovegood?," asked Hermione. "I mean, I know a little about her; she is a little weird, but how is she exactly?" The intelligent witch had once called the Quibbler "rubbish" without knowing that Luna's father was the editor. Luna had heard it and had called her mean. It was safe to say that the two didn't get along well.

"Even though we both live here, I don't know Luna that well. We played a couple of times when we were little, but then, Luna's mum died and she stopped coming over," answered Ginny. The last time she had played with her was when she had been nine. "Luna is... peculiar to say the least. But if you ignore her eccentric behaviour, Luna is nice... it's just that she has different interests."

"Some call her 'Loony Lovegood,' though," commented Hermione.

"Er, don't call her that," interjected Ivy.

"Huh, of course, I'm not going to call her that. It's rude."

"No, I mean don't even say it behind her back," continued Ivy. "If someone hears you call her Loony, then there are good chances that you'll be cornered later that day."

"What do you mean?"

"You know Luna Lovegood is friends with West, right? She also works with him at the A.I.D... so, if you talk about someone calling Luna' Loony,' then people will come for a talk with you."

"Who will come?" asked Ginny. Hermione wondered the same.

"West, Carmicheal, and Belby; Luna's three friends," Ivy said. "If the person who called Lovegood' Loony' is a first or second year, then they will be visited by Belby, who will talk to them peacefully and ask them not to call Luna that. If the offending person is a third, fourth, or fifth year, then Carmicheal will corner them and straight out threaten them to back off, or they will get beat up; from what I have heard, one Hufflepuff and two Slytherin did get beat up by Carmichael. Finally, if it's someone from sixth or seventh year, West will call them in for a talk, and then... they'll stop. If they call Luna' Loony' to the face, they'll have to apologise to her on the same day or the day after. If Luna doesn't hear it, then they are only released after a warning."

"What does West do?" asked Hermione as Ivy didn't specify it.

"I tried asking a seventh-year Gryffindor, but they wouldn't say anything. They would just shake their heads with a cramped smile. No one has given me a clear answer."

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and then lightly gulped. Getting beat up by Eddie Carmichael sounded terrible enough, but from how Ivy described it, getting called in by Quinn West sounded more nerve-wracking.

"How do you know all this?" asked Ginny as neither she nor Hermione had heard about this.

"... they only started doing this after the Christmas break," she replied shortly, not wanting to reveal that when he had been in his third year, Ivy had kept tabs on Quinn's activities as much as she could.

"Ahaa!" shouted Ginny, as the wind whipped their hair and clothes. She was pointing upward toward the top of the hill, where a strange-looking house rose vertically against the sky, a great black cylinder with a ghostly moon hanging behind it in the afternoon sky.

"That's Luna's house, right? It suits her. It looks like a giant rook!"

"Do you see a bird, really?," said Hermione, frowning at the tower.

"I was talking about a chess rook," said Ginny. "A castle to you."

Ginny's legs reached the hilltop first. When Ivy and Hermione caught up with her, panting and clutching stitches in their sides, they found her grinning broadly.

"Finally," said Ginny. "Look."

Three hand-painted signs were tacked to a broken-down gate. The first read,

「THE QUIBBLER. EDITOR: X. LOVEGOOD」

The second,

「PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE」

The third,

「KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS」

The gate creaked as they opened it. The zigzagging path leading to the front door was overgrown with a variety of odd plants, including a bush covered in the orange radish like fruit. Ivy thought she recognized a Snargaluff and gave the wizened stump a wide berth. There were two aged crab apple trees without many leafs bent because of the wind, though they were still heavy with berry-sized red fruits and bushy crowns of white-beaded mistletoe. The trees stood as sentinels on one side of the front door. A little owl with a slightly flattened, hawklike head peered down at them from one of the branches.

Ginny stepped forward to rap on the thick black door, but before she could even raise her hand, the door opened, and someone they weren't expecting greeted their sights.

Ivy's eyes widened in surprise. "Huh, what are you doing here?"

"That would be my question as well. Why are you here?" He turned his eyes to the younger redhead of the trio. "I get why she is here. Her house being what... ten minutes away."

The trio of girls stared at Quinn West dressed in a black collared tee and khaki cargo shorts, a positively clear muggle attire on a pureblood.

"We were wondering whether Luna was available to play with us," said Ginny.

At that point, Luna Lovegood popped up from behind Quinn with sparkling eyes. "Play? I want to play. What are we playing?"

Two pairs of silver stone-grey eyes stared at the girls. One excited in dreamy curiosity, the second in... slight surprise and gradual acceptance.

"Didn't we just spend hours building Hogwarts in Legos? You still want to play?"

Hermione, who heard the word Legos, did a double take because of her current location. She hadn't expected to hear that Luna owned Lego or that Quinn had been playing with Legos for hours.

"Is there a limit as to how much I can play? Daddy has never said anything like that."

Quinn crossed his arms and stared at the girls for a few seconds. "I suppose." 'Luna spending time with girls for a change was good for her, he thought. She did spend most of her time with him, Eddie and Marcus. Plus, he didn't have a say in who Luna decided to spend time with.

"Just tell her dad before you take her out, would you?"

"I'll go tell him," said Luna before skipping back to the house towards her father's study.

Quinn turned to Hermione and addressed her, "I'm surprised to see you here, Ms. Granger; the break is about to end. Shouldn't you be with your family?"

Hermione, surprised with the sudden question, took a moment to reply. "Ivy has invited me to see the World Cup's final; the tickets are rare." Plus, she had already spent the first half of the summer break vacationing in France with her family.

"Of course, the World Cup's final. Yes, the tickets are rare. Just over a hundred thousand seats to be distributed to magicals from the six continents."

"From what you told, you aren't going, are you?" asked Ivy.

"Well, yes, I'll be going to see some games. Only I'm not going to be there at the stadium to see the World Cup's final."

Quinn glanced back into the house before looking back at the girls and smiled. "Now, if you excuse me, I was about to leave, and I should probably leave before Luna comes back and tries to rope me into joining you guys. I'm sure you all are an excellent company, but unfortunately, I have previous commitments."

He wasn't sure if he would be able to refuse Luna if she asked him to stay. He spoiled her too much.

"Say goodbye to Luna for me, if you would," he said while taking out his shrunken hoverboard and expanding it to full size. "It was nice seeing you three. Ms. Granger, Ms. Weasley, and Ivy. I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts."

Then he was off, gliding away on the magic-powered skateboard-styled hoverboard.

And a few seconds after Quinn left, Luna came out, while pulling an older man with her. "Quinn, you should play with us... huh, where did he go?"

"He left and asked us to say goodbye for him."

"Aww, well, nothing we can do about that," she said and tugged on the man's hand, who looked like he wasn't paying attention. "This is my daddy."

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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[

A/N: Do you know that in the books, the attire of wizards is described as robes. But interestingly, J.K. hasn't specified what they wear inside those robes... Or if they even wear anything inside.

In the books, the school uniform was just Hogwarts robes and no uniform. Movies added the standard uniform that British schools (among many other countries) follow.

And just to specify, my version of pureblood/magical society attire is old-style muggle clothing or specific, simplest of the muggle clothing. Barebones stuff like shirts and pants and, of course, suits are necessary. Also, I don't have a clear image of girls/women clothing: I am just going with what Molly, Narcissa, and Bellatrix wore in the movies.

]

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Quinn West - MC - "... I can build the entire thing under a minute with magic."

Luna Lovegood - Artist - Lego is her latest obsession.

Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch Jr. - Death Eater (Hates the ones that went free) - Technically, he is the first one to escape Azkaban

Peter Pettigrew - Wormtail - That makes him the second one, even though he did it alone, without any help.

Ivy Potter - "Ivy" - Keeping tabs.

Hermione Granger - "Ms. Granger" - Living at the Potter cottage since a few days ago.

Ginny Weasley - "Ms. Weasley" - Luna's childhood playmate.

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https//fictiononlyreader ]??

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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"Uncle, I'm going to London," said Quinn as he peeked inside Elliot Dalton's study inside the West Manor. The older man was focused on his work.

Elliot looked up from the documents on his desk. Quinn was dressed in his non-magical-styled clothes, which he wore most of the time, except when he needed to wear clothing prevalent in the magical world for appropriate occasions.

"London? May I ask why you want to go there?"

Quinn raised his hand. He had a ticket stub in his hand. "I'm heading to the cinema. I might return late, so please don't wait for me at supper. I will eat dinner at home, though. So please ask Polly to set up something for me."

"I see, be careful with the time, then, and try not to stay out too late," nodded Elliot. "Return home before your grandfather goes to sleep."

"Understood," said Quinn.

As Quinn left, Elliot's eyes caught a glimpse of something white around Quinn's neck. Nonetheless, the door closed before he could get a clear look. He shook his head and assumed that it would be some sort of non-magical style clothing. He forgot about the matter and returned to his work.

Outside Elliot's office, Quinn started walking towards the manor's door. He looked at the ticket stub in his hand that showed today's date. August 25, 1994. A week before he had to leave for Hogwarts. Today, however, the day itself was of great importance.

'Sorry for lying, but I had to do it,' thought Quinn as he pocketed the ticket stub that was going to go unused.

Determination flashed through Quinn's eyes as he thought of what he was about to do and the possible repercussions that his actions might cause. Among such thoughts, Quinn wished that today went without a hitch, that nobody would know what he was about to do. Everybody would be better if that was the case.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Pop*

With a popping noise as if it was a plastic bag popping, Quinn's feet touched misty moor. He had apparated in a familiar place. His eyes immediately looked around to check for any living and observing presence; after carefully observing his surroundings along with the Human-presence-revealing spell (Homenum Revelio), Quinn concluded that he was alone in the deserted stretch.

He looked at a line of wooden posts that were placed consecutively creating a line. Between the consecutive posts there were broken barbed wires. When they had been intact they had formed a fence.

Quinn blinked and casted the Point-Me Charm In front of him, an arrow appeared pointing north. Then he set off across the deserted moor. He was unable to make out much through the mist, so he simply relied on the north-facing arrow to guide him. After about ten minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into focus. Beyond it, Quinn could make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents. They rose up to a slightly sloping large field. On the horizon, a dark forest could be seen.

He dispelled the Point-Me Charm, and stopped before he was too near to a stone cottage. The custom-made disillusionment charm he had made from his knowledge of sensory illusion magic covered his body and made him invisible to all five senses. After making sure that he was invisible, Quinn resumed walking and passed by the stone cottage, ignoring the muggle who lived inside and the ministry employee who hid in the cabin in case he asked too many questions and needed to obliviate him.

Quinn entered the gate of the campsite. He trudged up the misty field in the middle of long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as non-magical as possible. Some, though, slipped up by adding chimneys, bellpulls, or weather vanes. On a side note, there were tents so obviously magical that Quinn wondered if its owners were even trying to hide that they were magicals. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant silk like miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on, he passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets, and a short way beyond, there was a tent that had a front garden with a birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

'Showoffs,' thought Quinn. The blatant disregard of the Statute of Secrecy in this place made Quinn realise once again the huge disconnection there was between the magical and non-magical society. The law to separate the two communities had isolated the magical society so much that they didn't even know what was considered non-magical. An apparent fault from the education system failing to educate their students about the one thing they are supposed to hide from.

He reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field and stared at the litter of magical tents blocking his vision of the horizon. Every four years, only one event would cause this many magicals to gather in one place, and that event was today. On August 18, 1994, magicals from the six continents gathered at Dartmoor, England, to attend the Quidditch World Cup, and today was the finals between Ireland and Bulgaria.

The man in the stone cabin that Quinn passed by, Mr. Roberts, owned and operated many campsites in the area, and one of those campsites had been booked by the British Ministry of Magic for the Quidditch World Cup. Quinn had come here because today was the day the Death Eaters would ravage the campsites and prey upon muggle-borns for sport.

Quinn looked up and wondered whether the Dark Mark would make an appearance. Barty Crouch Junior had been the one who had launched the Dark Mark to the sky over the campground in the original books.

Quinn knew Junior's backstory, and if the current events followed the original path, then he would be here at the finals, beneath an invisibility cloak under the Imperius Charm. Junior would regain control here and come upon the scene of Death Eaters destroying everything in their way. In response, he would get angry and cast the Dark Mark. His anger would stem from their lack of initiative in finding their master, which he yearned to do and yet was unable.

'An emotional, yet stupid decision. Bringing him here is foolish,' thought Quinn. Time made people slack, and it was the case in this situation.

He didn't blame Senior that much, though. It had been over a decade since he had kept his son holed up in the house. And only because of the continuous insistence of their house-elf, Winky, and his son's love for Quidditch, did Senior allow Junior to come to the finals.

Quinn didn't know if the events of the original books would occur today. He knew that Barty Junior was out of Azkaban because both Mrs. Crouch and Barty Junior were legally dead, which meant that the events of the original books were followed to some extent. However, he didn't know whether the Death Eaters would attack or if Barty Junior would be able to regain control of his body. There was a chance that things might go south, though. Because of that, Quinn was there.

'Let's see how many I can take down today,' thought Quinn. He sat down near one of the trees, still invisible, waiting for the Death Eaters to arrive.

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- (Scene Break) -

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The game was over, and people started to return to campsites from the stadium that had been set up by the Ministry. Raucous singing could be heard on the night air as he stepped back a bit into the woods, where the leprechauns' lantern's light couldn't reach as they kept shooting over his head, cackling and waving their lanterns.

'It's time,' thought Quinn, he turned himself visible again and started to remove his clothes. He removed all of his non-magical styled garments. Under them was stark white spandex that stuck close to Quinn's body. The spandex had white patches stuck all over: two on the chest (one on each pec), two on the abdomen, two on each arm (one above and below the elbow each), one on each of the back of his palms, four on each legs, one on each feet and, finally, three patches that covered his back.

Luckily, no one was there to see him, or Quinn would've died of sheer embarrassment. Fortunately, Quinn wouldn't be wearing only white spandex. He tapped his chest, and blue waves of energy traveled throughout the white fabric. After the wave traversed the entire material, the fabric changed.

The white transformed into multiple colors; green-brown, olive drab, dark chestnut, and fern green covered Quinn's body. The spandex that had been stuck to Quinn's body expanded and turned into cargo trousers and a hooded military-style jacket. All of this was over a black skin-tight full-sleeved shirt that covered his head, hiding all of his hair, and on the bottom below the cargo pants were black compression pants.

Quinn raised his hands and saw them covered in tactical gloves. If you looked down at his feet he had tactical boots, both in dark green camo that suited the night and the forest. Every inch of his body except his face's front was covered. And even his face was hidden beneath the shadow of the hood.

「Project Noir」

A project Quinn had launched in his second year, just a few days before Quinn had ventured into the Sin vault. The project had been put on hold by sin-Quinn, who didn't like the prospect of hiding himself. However, regular Quinn wanted his identity hidden whenever he desired, so he reinitiated the project. Furthermore, he had started researching and developing a rotation between his projects after the day he encountered in Hogsmeade the Novellus Accionites trying to kill first-gen magicals.

He had been lucky that day as no one identified him or shot a Revelio charm his way to disable his invisibility. But Quinn knew that luck was fickle. As such, he prepared a transformative set of tactile attire which Quinn would design to change according to his needs. The spandex and patches over the spandex held enough clothing to transform into practically anything Quinn wanted to wear: if Quinn wanted swimming trunks, the material would retract until he was wearing just trunks, or if he wished to don layers of winter clothing, the extra material inside the magically expanded patches would release the required material.

The version Quinn was wearing only held non-magical fabrics and didn't contain magic-resistant leathers because Quinn couldn't fit those materials into the designs. Those materials didn't interact with Quinn's magic and would malfunction. Sometimes, the fabric would eject out randomly. Quinn, personally, didn't like transformative clothing like that because they were unstable, and an ample enough magical interference would cause them to break down. Nonetheless, Quinn had managed to accomplish just enough resistance with charms so that this setup wouldn't malfunction.

However, for now, if for some reason Quinn's disillusionment was turned off, then his identity wouldn't be instantly revealed.

Suddenly, Quinn heard some commotion from the campsite.

'Time for the invisible vigilante to return.'

A plume of smoke appeared in his palm, a front mask appeared in front of his face. The gear was complete.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Quinn entered the campsite, his invisibility back on as he moved in the dark, unseen. He could only be noticed under the light of the torches as a negligible distortion, and that was only when Quinn sprinted.

Under the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, opposite to the direction he was running towards. People fled en masse, running away from something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises similar to gunfire. Loud jeerings, roars of laughter, and drunken yells could be heard; then, a burst of intense green light appeared, illuminating the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Quinn squinted at them... They had their heads under a hood, and their faces were masked, just like him.

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More masked Death Eaters joined the marching group, laughing and pointing at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd became bigger. Once or twice Quinn saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Quinn recognised one of them. Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous mounds, and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

'They are alive,' thought Quinn in relief, and then he moved his head above and watched the smallest child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side.

'Good, good, good,' thought Quinn as he took in deep breaths. 'This is helping; this is clearly helping. These f*ckers are helping me... helping me to bring their doom.'

Emotions were a tricky factor in magic. A wizard or witch couldn't use emotions any time they desired; things weren't that simple. If a magical user wanted to draw upon the emotion of anger, but they were happy and didn't have a powerful enough source that would provoke anger, then they wouldn't be able to draw their wrath at all.

Any wizard or witch needed to feel the emotion to use said emotion. And currently, Quinn was brimming with rage. He wasn't a person with a solid moral compass and didn't mind inflicting pain to those who deserved it for his own avail, but the scene in front of him wasn't right even under the most loose morals.

Mr. Roberts and his family had been subjected to multiple memory spells because the magical population gathered here didn't understand how to act like the non-magicals. Because of the magical people's incompetence, an innocent family had their memories altered for a week just so that the wizarding society could enjoy a sports tournament.

Now, they were being levitated above and made a joke out of. The children were man-handled so roughly that Quinn feared that they would be injured, and this entire thing was making him feel so angry that the magic was bubbling with fury inside his body.

Quinn raised his hand, and the family of four stopped in midair; they stopped flopping around and became rigid. The Death Eaters that were puppeteering them stopped because the muggles they were playing were suddenly out of control, causing the entire march of Death Eaters to stop and stare up.

The Levitation Charm (Wingardium Leviosa) wouldn't levitate living objects, but there were spells created to levitate living beings. The problem with those Charms was that the target's internal magic interfered heavily with the control of the Charms. If a target's magic was more potent than the caster's, then the Charm wouldn't work correctly, or in some cases, outright fail without even working for a second.

The family of four didn't have magic, so they could be easily controlled, and Quinn's magic was leagues more potent than any Death Eater present in the campsite. Exhausting the core every day for nearly eleven years was nothing to sneeze at. And out of those eleven years, roughly half of the time had been when Quinn's body was in a flux of accelerated growth because of his physical age.

The Death Eaters saw the muggle family being floated away and tried to get them back in control, but their magical attempts were thwarted and snapped as if they were thin, dry branches.

"Shit! Why isn't this working? Hey! Help me out here," shouted a Death Eater, getting frustrated.

Multiple of them banded up together. However, they weren't able to get a hold of the family. It felt as if they were trying to oppose an unstoppable force. They could only watch as the four captives floated away from their reach.

"... What's happening?"

"How is this possible?"

"Why aren't our spells working?!"

The answer came to them in the form of a violet spell-light coming straight towards them. One of the less drunk Death Eaters pulled up a shield charm against the upcoming spell, but all that did was spread its effects. The violet spell-light came into contact with the transparent shield and didn't cut through it but created an immense explosion that blasted half a dozen Death Eaters.

"... Who is it?!" yelled one of the Death Eaters. All of them had their wands out, ready to curse the one who cast the spell.

The response was another two violet spell-lights screeching towards them. This time they were ready, and four Death Eaters in front pulled up their Shield Charms, but once again, the violet spells exploded and made them tumble like bowling pins.

The onslaught wasn't over; this time, the violet spell came from their left instead of the front. And it scared them because the intensity and size of the violet spell light were thrice as large as before. When the light came in contact with them, the Death Eaters were blasted away like they had been hit by a hippogriff at full speed.

Seeing that the Death Eater march was broken, Quinn moved in closer, and as he did, his hands showed in a pale icy-blue light that was capable of giving a chill to anyone who saw it. His steps were silent as a wild feline going in for a kill, his stone-grey orbs shining with a calm fury and his magic stirring, deadly.

Spells started to shoot out from the disorganised Death Eaters; they tried to take out anyone near them by making a barrage of attacks, but Quinn would simply swat them away like they weren't dangerous charges of destructive magic.

The Death Eaters then heard a voice. It was a throaty whisper, distorted beyond what could be perceived as human. It sounded like it came from just behind their ear, yet it seemed like it was everywhere, surrounding them like a blanket. It crept over them like vines of Devil's Snare, but instead of strangulating them, it told them a single word.

"Run."

Then hell broke loose as a dozen ice spikes whistled towards them. Screams filled among the Death Eaters as one of the spikes nearly tore an arm out of one of their members. Others weren't that lucky as some instantly lost their legs and arms as the ice spikes pierced through flesh and bone alike.

The voice once again sounded near them, like it was standing among them. Just like the ice spikes that tore through them, it was cold and triggered a dread inside them.

"Too late."

It was time for the hunters to be hunted.

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Quinn West - MC - Dressed in full camo-gear - in Silent Fury.

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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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A man dressed in Death Eater garb ran through the field while occasionally looking at his back in fear and terror. His breathing was laboured from sprinting. He was not used to running, but the threat of pain and possible death was a great motivator. He peered forward at the almost dark night. The moon was the only light source. He ran towards the forest that he could see in the distance. The thought of using a Lumos to spread some light in the misty fields didn't even crack into his mind because of the danger it could bring him.

'I just need to get to the forest,' thought the man. 'I shall be safe then... safe from that demon.'

Today, he had entered the campsite with a prim-perfect Death Eater uniform that he hadn't worn in a decade, but now that same uniform had tears and burns. It was ripped in some places and caked with blood from the wounds that were below it.

'It wasn't supposed to go like this.'

They only wanted to get drunk and have some fun with the muggle and the muggleborn. They craved to bathe in the glory they had before they had been crushed all those years ago by the Light faction. Then, they were forced to hide their injured pride and live their lives without the power that they had when the Dark Lord was with them.

Not all Death Eaters were as rich as the likes of Malfoy and couldn't strut around like nothing happened after their reign broke. Many of them had to keep their heads down and act carefully as the Light faction built their power. With James Potter in a leading position, he and a group of light-aligned Aurors started to get particularly interested in their dealings.

Today was supposed to be a day where they could blow off steam. To show their power and superiority to foreigners and the British wizarding society. It was an audience that they wouldn't be able to have even when their Lord was alive, and they wanted to make good use of it.

Everything had begun smoothly as they captured the muggle family and played with them while defacing the hideous muggle tents that everybody had set up to 'blend in.' Just the sight of wizards trying to pretend as muggles made their stomachs turn, and they wanted nothing more than to destroy the disgusting things that were beneath them.

But then 'it' arrived. He and his companion weren't sure if it was even human. I didn't sound like a human, and its actions and magic were feral. Its spells were powerful, viscous with magic, and every attack that came their way was aimed as if trying to obliterate them.

He wasn't used to facing dark spells; it had been years since they had faced attacks like these. During their Lord's rise to power, the Aurors were authorized to use the Unforgivable Curses on suspects, but after that, he hadn't faced a single dark spell in his life. He recalled the stories of Aurors casting Cruciatus Curse on them and the rare Killing Curse, but nothing like the spells he had witnessed today.

Bone breakers, flesh stripping spells or blood boiling curses... and he could go on. He had seen horrifying spells of dark magic. The Cruciatus Curse only gave them the screams, but these showed them real pain and horror.

The Death Eater finally saw a ghostly blue of the forest in front of him, and hope returned to him. 'I can finally apparate,' he thought. Facing those horrifying curses, everyone had the thought of apparating away from the danger. But every time they could muster enough concentration to safely launch an apparition -which was hard considering the sheer horror gore around them- the demon would hit them with a dark spell.

The group realised that they wouldn't have a chance to apparate if they stayed together because the demon would easily target them. So everyone ran in different directions; every person for themselves. He remembered the screams of his friends when he turned his back. He had to hold back the impulse to stop and see what had happened, but he didn't dare.

The heaving and huffing Death Eater was a stone's throw distance away from the forest, but then, he felt an explosive force down on his legs and was sent flying away. He rolled on the ground like a broken doll, and his heart thumped in terror.

'No! I'm close,' thought the man. 'I can make it. I just need to take a few steps. I will be safe.'

The tenacity in the face of death was an impressive force. The Death Eater could see the forest, and all his being was focused on getting to it. He ignored the fact that a spell had hit him and got up... only to collapse back on the ground.

"Huh?"

He hadn't collapsed because of an attack. He had fallen because his left foot hadn't pushed him off the ground. He tried again, but he missed, and the left foot didn't make it to the ground again. The man hastily looked at his left foot to see what the problem was and saw an ankle-less stump in place of his foot.

The world started to blur and spin as a guttural scream escaped the man. "My leeeegg! No, my leg!" The pain that came when he realised he had lost his leg made the man more and more desperate. He clutched his paining leg with one hand and started to drag himself to the forest. His mind was filled with getting to the forest so that he could live.

Then he felt something grip his right leg, and his heart inside his chest dropped low; for a couple of seconds, the man thought that his heart had stopped beating. Everything went silent for a split-second before reality set on him, and at the same time, his body was pulled back by whatever was clutching his right leg.

"NoooOOoooOoOOoo! LET ME GOOOO! ForgIve meEeEEe!"

Without a shred of care, the man was dragged away from the forest. His left leg, which no longer had anything below the ankle, brutally met the ground as the open wound was caked with dirt. The Death Eater thrashed, clutched the grass with his hands, and tried everything to stop being dragged away from the forest; alas, nothing worked, and soon the forest only seemed a blur in the darkness.

The man eventually stopped struggling and clutched his wand tight in his hand. If he couldn't escape, then he wasn't going down without a fight. If today was the day he died, then he was going to take the demon with him.

As he continued to get dragged, his body froze when he heard screams. Screams of asking someone to stop, painful moans of apologies and dreadful cries of misery. His relatively shallow breathing returned to its previous laboured state.

The dragging came to a sudden stop, and the man found himself between two other bodies that he recognised as being Death Eaters that had joined the march today. He shivered as he watched that one of them had his entire right leg missing while the other one had deep gashes all across his body.

His attention was pulled from the horrifying scene when he felt a chill on his leg and saw that his ankle-less stump was now covered in ice... just like everyone else's injuries were. His body tensed as the ice was too cold, and it stung like needles being dug into his flesh. Even a single twitch on his leg would send shock and pain across his leg.

"Oh, servants of the Dark Lord. Your glory is forgotten, just like a mere memory," The man heard the distorted voice of the demon as he fought through the pain. "You, who hold yourselves as superior, are now laying down in the mud. You, who committed abominations at this festivity and in the past, are now paying the price."

The demon —Quinn— looked at the man that he had just dragged to this place, and with a wave, stripped the Death Eater's wand out of hand. He caught the Death Eater's wand and clenched his fist to snap the wand in half. The now useless pieces of wood were dropped near a pile of similarly snapped wands.

"Is this the audacity from an order fallen a decade past," he spoke, his voice distorted. "You mongrels played with the weak and covered under the strong... Today, you shall feel what is to be unfortunate. Today will be the day that shall haunt you. You shall remember it as the day that you lost the one thing that made you special."

Quinn took a deep breath and focused his magic; he ignored the wails and screams from the almost fifteen people lying around him. They were the people that Quinn had managed to catch and injure enough so they weren't in condition to run away.

A ghastly reddish-black spell resembling soot and haze emanated from Quinn's entire body and slowly wafted down towards the ground. The Death Eater, who had been only hearing the distorted voice of the demon, watched as a reddish-black smoke slowly started to build on the ground, originating from the center of the circle they were all lying in.

Those who could witness through the pain had their eyes stuck on the reddish-black smokey unknown that was rolling down in small waves, and as it moved towards them with deathly silence, their senses screamed that this was something dangerous and deadly. They could feel that this was a magic of the darkest kinds, something that oozed evil.

Soon the fifteen people were covered in the reddish-black mist. Quinn looked up at the sky and reinforced his decision about what he was going to do. He closed his eyes and recalled the young child who had gone unconscious, yet the scum continued to spin him like a toy top. The rage returned, and with it, his decision solidified as if it was stone.

"Tetani Nervum." Quinn breathed out, and even though he only used nonverbal spells, this was special. He whispered the words that disappeared among the terrified Death Eaters, who broke the silence of the night.

"I curse you with a body that shall betray you. "

The reddish-black mist agitated as it started to radiate in an ominous blood-red light, and with that began the horrifying screams.

"I curse you to a life with magic that shall be near, yet far from you."

The Death Eaters' entire bodies spasmed uncontrollably. Then, the blood-red mist glowed brighter. The spasms grew wilder.

"I curse you with the constant reminder that you are no longer better..."

An uncontrollable pain flowed through their nerves and, along with it, came an unbearable burning feeling.

Quinn looked up at the sky and whispered ever so slightly, "I curse you ."

The mist shone once with a short bright burst of blood-red. Then, it vanished in the breeze of the cold night.

'So this is how it feels, huh,' thought Quinn, staring at the circle of spasming bodies.

The curse, Tetani Nervum, had been a spell of his. It had been a curse he had created last year. By utilising his recently gained knowledge of healing magic and human anatomy and combining it with some really questionable knowledge he had found in the Room Of Requirement and his own personal library, Quinn had been able to create a really 'dark' spell. He had only a few, though.

Tetani Nervum had been inspired by the well-known disease Tetanus. Tetanus is a bacterial infection characterized by muscle spasms that could range anywhere from light tremors to spasms severe enough to fracture bones. Other symptoms of Tetanus included fever, sweating, headaches, trouble swallowing, high blood pressure, and a fast heart rate. But for his spell, Quinn had focused on the spasms that tortured the infected.

The motivation behind Tetani Nervum had been to disable the target's body. The bacteria that caused Tetanus functioned by creating toxins that interfered with motor neurons. This interfered with the regular muscle contractions. Quinn also targeted the motor neurons in the nerves but replaced the bacteria with magic. The nervous system would continuously interfere with muscle contractions and would cause the body to spasm. As long as the curse was active, the target wouldn't be able to move a single muscle in their body. Their entire nervous system would be out of their own control and at mercy of Quinn's magic.

But the sole function of Tetani Nervum wasn't replicating Tetanus spasms. The spasms were just the carrier of the actual damage of the spell. The real aim of Tetani Nervum came from the word 'Nervum', which was the Latin word for 'nerves'. While Tetanus spasms ran rampant, the curse would dig through the nervous system and severely damage it.

And just like most of the 'dark' curses, Tetani Nervum had the added feature of being resistant to healing magic. If the target was brought to the hospital, the medi-healers would immediately notice the signs of wounds caused by 'dark' curses. Besides that, Tetani Nervum was a new curse that had been created from the knowledge of different magical cultures, which meant that the medi-healers would have a tough time even knowing where to start. Meaning that the nerves affected by the corrosive magic would be... lost and not able to function.

Quinn looked at the piles of bodies. More specifically, their arms and hands. He had snapped their wands and disabled their hands and arms. To wand users who relied on the external focus meant that they would no longer be able to draw on magic, practically turning them into squibs. They still had their magic but no way to access it.

But unlike Quinn, these Death Eaters had been using wands for decades which meant wands had integrated themselves into their magic system. Consequently, if you took the focus from them, they would be useless.

"... I believe that people are capable of change," said Quinn. He didn't care whether his victims were listening to him or not. "Perhaps I'll come back to you to see if you have repented. Understand the severity of your actions and the consequences of decisions. If that day I see that you have truly repented, then your hands and, thus, your magic, shall be returned. That day, you will be reborn. I hope you have a better life then."

Tetani Nervum had been Quinn's creation, which meant that he also knew how to cure it. He could reverse the effects and free them from the curse. Quinn had already peaked inside their minds to note their names. If one day, these people changed for the better, he would undo the curse.

Quinn stood up straight. His work was done. Other than these Death Eaters, all of the others had already fled. Quinn had considered putting an anti-apparition ward around the campsite, but that would mean that bystanders wouldn't be able to apparate out.

'These are enough,' thought Quinn. 'These many will be enough to instill fear.'

Quinn was about to apparate out of the campsite, but he stopped to look at the left to see a blue spell-light zapping towards him. Quinn tilted his head, and just before the blue spell-light reached Quinn, it crashed into an orange translucent magic shield. The blue spell tried to pierce through the orange obstacle, but all of its effects were for naught as it couldn't get past. It fizzled away as the magic ran out.

'Reducto,' thought Quinn, and as the shield turned down, he saw the offender who launched a spell at him and surprisingly, but not shockingly, saw Sirius Black with his wand pointing at him. Quinn noticed that Sirius's eyes were moving between him and behind him.

"... Hmm?"

Quinn's eyes gleamed in understanding as he turned the magic back up, which was the right decision as another spell assaulted his shield. The only difference was that it was aimed at his back. Quinn turned around to see James Potter also pointing his wand at him.

'Ah, they were checking,' Quinn deduced. He was invisible, and the first spell from Sirius was to see if there was anyone in his place. The second spell from James was one to take him down after confirmation.

"You... the one who's there, immediately surrender," shouted Sirius.

"Drop the disillusionment and throw your wand away," yelled James. "Nobody needs to get..." James looked at the pile of bodies. "... more injured."

"It seems I have overstayed my welcome," whispered Quinn and errantly waved his hand for a layer of ice forming a dome around him. It was just thick enough to bear the force of one spell and it gave just enough time for Quinn to apparate.

And with a pop, Quinn was gone. Not even a second after, the ice dome was shredded into shards by the combined efforts of James and Sirius.

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[

A/N:

How was it? My first 'dark' spell. Tetani Nervum. I always wanted to make a spell inspired by something medical, and this spell came out.

You all heard Quinn's motivation to create the spell. Let's talk about mine. I simply want Quinn's first kill to be... special... and not some rando Death Eaters. But, I wanted Quinn to gain a method to disable people without killing them.

When Quinn does kills someone, I want to add some drama, emotion, struggle, hesitation, and other stuff to mark it as a monumental point in Quinn's life.

]

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Quinn West - Spell creator - "Need to use weird English..."

FictionOnlyReader - Author - Next chapter is reactions. (21)

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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https//fictiononlyreader ]??

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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In a clearing between a circling of trees, a pop rang, breaking the silence of the night, and a Quinn West dressed in shades of green apparated into an environment suited to his camouflage. Soft steps pressed against the ground, moving the boy forward. The green clothes turned the original white.

Audible breathing could be heard in the silence as Quinn's back slid down against the trunk of a tree. He sat down with his legs stretched straight. His arms rested between his thighs. His head hung low with the eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed in tension, distress, and confusion.

While emotion was a powerful source of magic, it had its own demerits. Emotion could do wonders and elevate the user's magic to the next level when used correctly, but at the same time it would be hard to reign when they exceeded a limit. This would cause some repercussions. The general consensus about some of the vilest dark magic being harmful to the user came actually from the effects emotion gave, as most of those spells required strong emotions to function. Usually, emotions of the negative kind.

Quinn focused on his erratic heartbeat inside his chest in an attempt to calm down and wind down the rage he felt. Seeing the Death Eater's behaviour towards the muggle family had riled up Quinn more than he had imagined.

This wasn't saying that Quinn was a saint; he would use magic too on non-magicals every time he went out to the muggle society. Legilimency on a crowd of unsuspecting non-magicals was one of Quinn's favourite uses of mind magic. He would peek into their minds but he would never use anything he saw against them. He simply used them for practice and research purposes. Quinn never harmed them, and with the time he spent in the non-magical society, it seemed he wouldn't be meeting people who needed to be stopped soon.

Quinn felt the rage attach itself to his magic and go through his body, the residual influence of the rage-filled magic when anger had been out of control. His fists clenched hard to stop from lashing out physically or magically.

'Calm down, calm down, calm down...'

The words repeated inside his mind as Quinn tried to calm himself down. When he channeled his rage, he didn't feel the effect, but after the outlet closed, the anger would bubble inside. Using emotion-based occlumency to keep the emotions in check wouldn't help as the protection magic didn't erase emotions. It simply blocked them.

He had to manually calm himself down to get out of his current predicament. Emotion-based occlumency wouldn't work, but memory-based occlumency could undoubtedly help.

Quinn opened his eyes to find himself standing face-to-face with a grand mansion that elicited comfort and ease. He entered the structure through the rich, brown elegant doors. Walking on the marbled floor, which reflected him in their shiny, smooth allurement, Quinn gazed around to study the numerous doors lining the corridors.

He stopped in front of one of the doors and twisted the golden doorknob to enter the room. Inside, rows of bookshelves greeted him with books filled neatly, ready for him to pick one and dive in. He strolled through the rows of shelves, browsing through the shelves. Some had books on the left, some on the right, others had space in the middle, but all had one thing in common: brown books with golden linings.

The touch of the cool leather against his finger as he pulled a book out seemed natural. Quinn's eyes studied the book as his hands felt the weight; there was no title on the book, but Quinn already knew what it was. He raised his free hand, placed it on the cover, and closed his eyes for an entirely new scene to unfold in front of him.

A party of laughter greeted Quinn's ears, and when he opened his eyes, he beheld Lia, George, Elliot, and Ms. Rosey sitting around a table with him there alongside them. 'His' hands moved on their own and threw a pair of cards on the table. Lia stretched her arms and retained the pile of galleons that were on the table while Elliot collected the cards that everybody put on the table.

'The poker party from three years ago,' recalled Quinn, recognising the family activity that the West family had played once a while. A smile bloomed on Quinn's face as he looked at the scene through his eyes. He was a passenger inside his own body, re-living the memory through the wonders of mind magic.

The mental replica of the West manor held all of his cherished and happy memories. Whenever Quinn experienced something peaceful, happy or positive; something that was close to his heart, he would take the memory out of his mind-Hogwarts and put it inside the manor. It was a haven that Quinn had made so he could walk in and enjoy everything good that he had in his life.

And it seemed to be working as Quinn outside felt his heart gradually calm down. The burning feeling of lashing out slowly subsided, and a serene smile made its way to Quinn's face. After a couple of minutes, Quinn opened his eyes. They had lost the irritation he had and were back to his usual cool, collected rested state.

"Always remember... add something to maintain balance," said Quinn, groaning as he stood up from beneath the tree.

Quinn's personal rule for using intense emotions was to attach another feeling that would ensure that he wasn't solely running on a single emotion. Most of the time, the complementary emotion that granted Quinn control wasn't as strong as the primary fueling emotion, but it was enough for Quinn to escape the after-effects.

"I should've used something similar from the beginning," sighed Quinn, cracking his back. Controlling his emotions while using rage would've reduced the power by a margin, but Quinn wouldn't have suffered later like he just did.

"As expected, Tetani Nervum for more than a dozen people at the same time isn't a mere trifle."

The haze and smoke-styled spell was different from the usual light-shot spell or the invisible spell. It had been designed in Africa to cast compatible spells in an area instead of targeting something at a time. The downside of this mode of delivery was that it took increased focus and magic volume requirements. Luckily for Quinn, he had plenty of both.

Quinn had accomplished what he wanted despite the problems and difficulties he had had while participating in a possible life-threatening situation.

'Tetani Nervum... Test subject count: fifteen. Initial results: excellent, severe nerve damage with residual magic that won't allow recovery," whispered Quinn to himself in an analytical tone. "Human test phase, stage one, complete. Stage two: short term observation of the acquired subjects will commence tomorrow.'

Quinn had wanted test subjects for his newest curse and, because of the magic's nature, he wanted human test subjects. The timing had heen perfect as the Word Cup would be the ideal place to get those subjects. Human subjects that Quinn could use without guilt and morals plaguing his consciousness. Fifteen Death Eater who enjoyed dealing torment and torture. This was all the justification Quinn needed to convince himself.

He looked up at the bright crescent moon peeking from behind the night clouds, and...

"Ah, shit! I'm late! Damn, damn, damn, grandfather is going to bite my head off."

For him, the Quidditch World Cup was now over, and just like Ireland, he had come out on top.

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- (Scene Break) -

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James Potter and Sirius Black watched from a side as the St. Mungo's hospital staff carefully lifted the battered and broken bodies onto their stretchers.

"That's dark magic, all right," said James Potter. "I didn't think I would see something like this during the World Cup."

"Sickening, isn't it?" agreed Sirius Black. And that was saying something, with their career as Aurors for the Ministry. As Aurors, they had seen some extreme stuff, and this was definitely in the upper levels of the most horrifying things they had seen with magic.

James Potter looked at the unconscious people, clad in Death Eater garbs. Some still twitched and spasmed, while a few had broken bones throughout their bodies. Some of them had some part of their legs cut-off.

"Do you recognise the magic?" he asked.

The new family head of the infamous Black family shook his head. "At first glance, no..." Meaning that he would've to go to the library and browse through some questionable magic. Something he wasn't looking forward to. "Do you think that smoke was from a potion or something?"

"I don't know," replied James, remembering the reddish-black smoke that resembled burning soot and haze. "Maybe we should consult Dumbledore for this."

"... How about we first take this to the Unspeakables first, before bringing an outsider to the investigation."

James wanted to reply that Dumbledore wasn't an outsider, but he refrained from voicing his thoughts as he knew Sirius was right. "Do you think Robards will allow that? You know he doesn't like to get help from the Unspeakables."

"With this happening at the World Cup and so close to the Tournament... Robards will have to get this over quickly, even if it means involving the Unspeakables."

The Quidditch World Cup and the upcoming Tournament were both international affairs. That would pressure the Ministry, who would then pressure the Auror Office to solve and close the matter as quickly as possible. The pressure chain would start on the top and move its way to the bottom till everybody was yelling. In that scenario, any help was acceptable.

"Let's forget about that for a second," said Sirius, and he moved towards the ground where the bodies were lying. He squatted on the ground as saw what was left behind. "Who do you think did this?"

James stood by Sirius and studied the scene. "There was ice closing every wound.. and then the ice dome at the end…" He pointed at the heap of broken ice on the ground. "This makes me remember last years' attack in Hogsmeade."

"You mean, the invisible vigilante?" The 'invisible vigilante', the one hailed by the newspapers as the savior of the students of Hogwarts and the wizarding village of Hogsmeade. For an entire week, the wizarding community had read theories on the unknown hero, and for a month, the Auror Office had tried to find the person to no avail.

"Yes, the invisible vigilante used ice magic, and well…. he was invisible as well."

"Now that you say it... The injuries were brutal, weren't they? Wounds pierced with ice, detaching body parts, sealing everything with ice… They were more brutal this time, but I can see a pattern."

James nodded and then pointed his finger at the small pile of wood. "Unlike the last attack, the wands are broken now. Last time, they were stuck to their bodies, but this time every single one of them is broken."

"Who do you think it is?" asked Sirius.

"My guess would be a Voldemort hater... He only struck twice and only on Voldemort supporters. Other than that, there isn't a single sign of them."

"Age?"

"Older... look at the magic. They could take out fifteen people, use unknown magic… Those shields aren't a simple Protego. It also looked like neither your or my attack didn't phase them much."

"Gender?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, mate."

"How do we narrow it down? We don't have a visual clue."

"From the top of my head, we should look at people who have lost family members to Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

Sirius looked up at James with a 'really?' expression. "That doesn't narrow it down. You know how those days were, right?"

"Of course, I know that," said James. "But if we add someone good with magic, we can narrow it down by a lot. It's just a matter of choosing how good with magic they are."

"Hmm... if we are going with that... we can record the spell residue here to get matches against wands," added Sirius. Spell residues against wands was a technique used by Aurors to check if a specific spell came from wands. The caveat of the method was a low accuracy rate and wasn't taken as evidence in court hearings. But Aurors still employed it to narrow down their suspect list.

"Ugh, I wanted to go to a bar and discuss the game... being an Auror can suck sometimes," sighed James.

Sirius laughed at his ex-partner during their Trainee Auror and Junior Auror days and patted his shoulder, "Come on, let's get this logged in quick. The quicker we move, the earlier we will be able to go home."

The following day, the Auror Office would get the shocking information about the condition of the admitted people and would realise what the spell had done to them.

The 'invisible vigilante's' infamy would travel far and wide.

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- (Scene Break) -

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The door creaked open as Barty Jr. carefully stepped inside a large room, trying not to make any noise so as not to disturb the room resident. Barty's eyes were drawn to what lay ahead as, standing on a nightstand adjacent to a king-sized opposite the door was a candle, illuminating a small portion of the large bed.

As he gently closed the door behind him, Barty heard a man's voice, but it was strangely high-pitched, rough, and cold, as a sudden blast of icy wind. "You've returned, Barty."

"Yes, my lord," replied Barty, standing still in his spot.

"Did you do as I asked?" asked the voice.

Barty gulped before answering honestly, "... No, my Lord. I didn't."

There was a straining silence of seconds before the voice returned, and Barty could hear the much colder response he feared. "Tell me why, Barty. All I asked was to brand my symbol in the sky."

"T-There were complications, my Lord."

"What complications, Bartemius..."

"Some of your servants decided to play with the muggles and muggleborns after the game, my Lord," replied Barty Jr.

"And how is that a complication? Wouldn't that have been the perfect time to launch my mark. It would have shown my servants that I have returned, and, as planned, the marked ones would have confirmed it at the sight of the mark growing stronger," said the voice, and by the end, the shrill voice had turned into a hiss.

A cold touch on his leg made Barty Jr. flinch into a still stop. He looked down with bated breath to see a thigh-sized green snake slither by as it surrounded him with its long body. He could hear a whispered hiss around him as the snake circled him.

"My Lord, someone annihilated the Death Eaters who were causing the ruckus," spoke Barty quickly as he felt his Lord's familiar slowly reduce the radius of the circle. "I-I couldn't see all of it... but when I arrived... all your servants were lying on the ground under the effects of some kind of magic. I couldn't see the wizard who cast the magic, but there was someone there."

There was a hissing sound from the bed, and the snake around Barty Jr.'s feet slithered away from him without a hiss. Seeing the giant snake leave made Barty Jr. feel safe. He had seen the snake's fangs, and the venom would keep injury wounds open.

"Come near me, Bartemius."

Barty Jr. followed the commands and quickly walked towards the bedside, not wanting to keep the Dark Lord waiting even a single second. His legs bent as naturally as he breathed. He showed his respect by getting on his knees and staring down at the floor.

"Look at me, Bartemius," ordered the Dark Lord. Barty didn't hesitate. It was an ugly sight: the shape of a crouched human child, hairless and scaly-looking white pale skin. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble. Its face had a flat nose and overall a snakelike appearance. Its eyes shone blood red.

When Barty Jr.'s eyes met the gleaming red eyes, a sharp pain assaulted his head. It felt like his brain was being poked with multiple hot needles: heat, pain, burn, cold... Barty Jr.'s screams filled the room, but the next second, his screams abruptly went silent. Voldemort had used a silencing spell to quiet down the screaming Barty Jr. He was in no mood to enjoy the screams and wanted to see what his servant had seen.

The Dark Lord dove into the mind without any care, and soon he found the fresh memory of the World Cup. Through the eyes of Barty Jr., Voldemort watched the scene in front of him. A dozen or so of his Death Eater servants were laying in the middle of the campsite while Barty Jr. stood behind the remains of a burned tent, observing the scene.

Voldemort's expert and experienced reptilian red eye slits stared at the magic of soot, haze, and smoke emanating from the middle of the circle up from his servants. The reddish-black mist flowed down like gas and yet, the magic remained within a boundary, all over his minions.

'African... how rare, I have never seen this magic in Britain.' His eyes shone with interest. Voldmert continued to look in interest, and curiosity flashed his eyes as the memory continued. He couldn't stop but look at the magic, but even he failed to get any useful clue. He only could confirm that there was someone there, and the caster had used magic that wasn't British.

Barty Jr.'s memory ended when James Potter and Sirius Black blasted the ice doom into smithereens, but the person who cast orange shields had already apparated out of the campsite. Voldemort released Barty from the Legilimency, and the servant collapsed on the ground, curling up and shivering.

'I shall take care of this when I get my body back,' thought Voldemort. 'For now, I need to announce...'

"Give me your arm, Bartemius... the left arm," said Voldemort, ignoring the terrible state Barty was in.

Barty stood up. His head buzzed and he had shivers. He groggily and painfully raised his left arm. The shirt sleeve was violently ripped, leaving the faded Death Eater mark in all its glory.

A thin, boney hand with an ash bone wand appeared from the shadows of the bed. The Dark Lord tapped his wand against the mark and it grew deeper in colour. The faded ink slowly regained some of its deep black glory.

Some wizards and witches around their houses, pubs, shops, clutched their arms as they had a short, yet intense, burst of burning pain on their arms. All of them curled up their sleeves to see the dormant mark which had faded thirteen years ago had regained a shade of black. Every marked servant shivered. Some out of fear, others out of joy, while many felt both.

Down in the Crouch home, Peter Pettigrew had put down his fork and knife, while he, too, looked at the darkening mark. "So it begins."

A solemn and bleak fortress stood on an island in the middle of the North Sea surrounded by turbulent water. A place where the scums of society were sent as punishment and spent time with the vilest creatures known to man. A place where hope and joy were lost, and all that remained was misery and grim, making it hell on Earth.

But on this day, with heavy rain pouring down the fortress and seas raging in the distance, the loud laughter of a woman rang out, filling the void and breaking the silence. It was a burst of maniacal laughter that somehow suited the fortress; if there was a type of laughter that existed in the place, then this was to be it. But her laughter wasn't shallow, for there was pure joy, unprecedented delight, and unadulterated elation. Emotions that weren't supposed to exist in the fortress known as Azkaban, but yet there they were.

A message had been sent.

The Dark Lord had returned.

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Quinn West - MC - Hypocrite of a high order...

Voldemort - Dark Lord - Let the servants know... their master is back.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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Like a twisted hose spewing out its first spurt of liquid, a multi-colored shapeless mass seemed to appear in the air. The twisted mass divided itself into two parts within a split second, before two figures stood on a tiled floor.

"How was it?" asked the taller of the two. A smile graced the boy's mouth as his eyes flashed, wanting praise.

The shorter yet older of the two first brushed her clothes smooth before replying to his question, "I have certainly been part of worse side-apparitions."

The not-so-obvious praise widened the smile on the boy's face. He knew that this was her way of saying he had done well.

"Are you sure this was fine?" asked the strict Ms. Rosey as she looked around the King's Cross Station's apparition point. "Risking being the one to apparate us here... you aren't supposed to know apparition yet."

"It's okay. People aren't that attentive. Besides, the delay between the one who apparates and its passenger is almost null. My apparition pop has become quieter and doesn't attract that much attention," said Quinn, not worried about the situation.

"If you say so."

The two walked forward towards the platform 9?. The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it. Many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared as if they were dark ghosts. Quinn moved his eyes through the hustle and bustle, looking at the new and familiar faces, trying to spot a friend. Ms. Rosey, being a poster lady of manners, was properly walking alongside Quinn, but on the inside she was delighted that Quinn had asked her to see him off this year.

"Are you sure you don't want to reserve a compartment?" she asked. "You can come back out after making sure you have a seat reserved." Ms. Rosey hadn't seen the Hogwarts Express since her own Hogwarts days, as, after getting her job, she hadn't had the need to accompany someone to the Express (Neither Adam nor Lia had gone to Hogwarts). Her eyes were stuck to the bright red train, remembering her youth.

Quinn shook his head and took out a blue-and-bronze badge. "I'm a Prefect. There is a compartment reserved for us in the front of the train, so even if I don't find a compartment, I will have a seat for the journey… Of course, you already know that."

Ms. Rosey nodded with a small smile. During her time, she had been a Prefect for the Hufflepuff house in her fifth and sixth year and Head Girl in her seventh. She knew the privileges that the school provided to Prefects and the Head pair.

"Your grandfather, Elliot, me, and now you. Everyone in the family has been a Prefect now," spoke Ms. Rosey. "Even Lia and your father held important positions in Beauxbatons."

Quinn already knew that because he had seen George, Elliot, and Ms. Rosey's files in the Room of Rewards that held the black binders and the entrance to the Sin vault. While he hadn't been there since his second year, Quinn, while searching for clues, had taken a detour to glance at his family's files and all of them had splendid marks and recommendations.

"Being the owner of the A.I.D. is better than being a Prefect," said Quinn, turning the shiny badge to the other side so that it could reflect light. "However, I guess it comes with its own advantages. I don't have curfew restrictions anymore; I can roam around all night if I want."

While Quinn didn't like the house point system, he appreciated the Prefect and Head Boy/Girl system because it rewarded selected students with power and perks in return for the added responsibility. The students who got the student authority positions were the favorites of teachers, and Quinn was all for it. He liked this system because the student who would get the position would necessarily have a good rapport with the teacher, and that was a valuable skill known as networking. One could be excellent at their craft, but if they didn't have the communication skills, that technical skill would only get them so far.

He didn't think that the Prefect and Head Boy/Girl positions were worthless. Sure, later in their lives, these positions might not matter, but students weren't thinking ten or twenty years in the future. They lived in the present and wanted to be rewarded immediately; authority positions were perfect for that.

"Yes, you can, but please make sure to get enough sleep," said the ever-worrying Ms. Rosey.

"I love sleeping, Ms. Rosey," smiled Quinn. "Except when I'm doing magic, it's the best part of the day."

Ms. Rosey studied Quinn for a moment before bringing up the main thing George had asked her to say to Quinn. "Young master... the tournament... Please don't try to compete in it. None of us want you competing in something that was banned for a reason."

"The tournament is only for those of age, Ms. Rosey. I'm not of age," said Quinn, although that information had been known in the West manor for a while.

"... We know that, but we also know that nothing is sure with you. Lia was considering not letting you go to school this year because she thought you would figure out a way to bypass whatever measures they put in place."

"I'm not going to participate in the tournament... Eternal glory and a thousand galleons. That's what the Tri-Wizard tournament promises." Quinn put a palm on his chest. "But I'm a West; eternal glory is my birthright. As for the thousand galleons. I earn more than that every day in royalties. There is no need for me to join the tournament… although… fighting a dragon might be fun."

"-That. That's what we are afraid of," she sighed. "We worry that you will try to join the tournament so that you can fight a dragon. Please don't do that."

Quinn chuckled, and internally he thought, 'Well, I guess I don't have to fight a dragon... I have a Kraken sparring partner if I ever feel the need...'

"I promise, Ms. Rosey... I won't participate in the tournament. It wouldn't be fair for the others otherwise," smirked Quinn. "Anyway, as I said, I have no desire to join the tournament as a participant; it's not worth it."

"Promise me that you won't try to see how the Goblet of Fire works." The caretaker who had been looking over Quinn for a decade sharply demanded.

"Er... Ahem... I mean, sure, I won't. I won't go anywhere near the chalice."

"You aren't doing a good job in persuading me, young master.," sighed Ms. Rosey. She gave the slightly flustered Quinn a pointed look. "Anyway, I will repeat this for my own sake. Do not go anywhere near the Goblet of Fire. It's a dangerous magical artifact, and we don't want you taking any chances."

"... I understand," he nodded.

Ms. Rosey looked around the platform and saw the crowd getting larger. "It's time. You should board the train." She placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder and gave him one good final look. "Remember to take care of yourself, write to us regularly and tell us whenever you have any problems."

"I will," he said. Then, he hugged Ms. Rosey and boarded the train with his suitcase.

...

The corridor of the Hogwarts Express was populated with Hogwarts students. Some looked for space to sit while others were catching up with their friends after the long break. Everyone was in haste to get settled before the train took off. In short, there was plenty of activity inside the train; even inside the compartments, as there were students whose parents were still around were saying goodbyes to each other.

Within that liveliness, Quinn was dressed in a black half-sleeved, buttoned-up collared shirt tucked under light-brown trousers. He also wore dark brown derby shoes, which attracted eyes as he shuffled along the corridor. For a moment, everyone would stop what they were doing, and their heads would turn as Quinn passed by.

Quinn arrived at the front and opened the door to a compartment. At first sight, he saw that it was double the size of the standard one. Inside he saw seven people already seated, but they weren't talking to each other.

"Good morning, people," greeting Quinn his fellow fifth-year Prefects, eyeing the Prefect badges that everybody except him were wearing over their non-uniform clothes. Some girls blushed a little when they saw Quinn smiling, while the boys sat up straight.

He closed the doors behind him and, as the doors closed, Quinn was heard speaking to the other Prefects, "Before the older Prefects come, let's make some things clear..." What he said would remain a secret between Quinn and the fifth-year Prefects.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Quinn smoothed out his Hogwarts uniform with magic and checked the lapel badge over his chest. He watched the Hogwarts Express slow down at last and finally stop in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over everyone's heads. But Quinn seemed to be impervious to the downpour as raindrops seemed to bend away above Quinn as if avoiding him.

"Yeah... it's good to be back," grinned Quinn at the weather. Always, without exception, the Hogsmeade station was wet because of the rain.

He looked around calmly, as other students hurried towards the hundred horseless carriages that were standing, waiting for them outside the station. Among the crowd, Quinn noticed a group of three. Of the three, the only girl was waving her hand towards him.

Quinn's happy smile dropped immediately as he all but shouted as the trio came near him. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! This makes it the fifth year! How in magic do I keep missing you guys?!"

In front of him stood his two best friends: Eddie Carmicheal, Marcus Belby, and his much-loved junior/secretary/friend Luna Lovegood. In all five years of boarding the Hogwarts Express, not even once had Quinn seen Eddie and Marcus on the train.

"Maybe it's the Nargles!" Luna gave her two cents on the matter.

"Couldn't care less," yawned Eddie. He had just woken up five minutes ago.

"It's good to see you, mate," smiled Marcus, delighted to see his best friend.

"It could be Luna; the nargles are surely powerful... I love you too, Eddie... Ah, yes, Marcus, I missed you the most," replied Quinn to his friends.

"Do that to us too," said Eddie pointing towards the top of Quinn's head at the diverging rain.

Quinn took out his fake wand, and the rain parted above his friend's head. As long as it was water, Quinn could do all kinds of stuff with it.

"As expected, you became the Prefect," noted Marcus, pointing at the lapel badge. "Not surprising, to be honest. There's no one better for the role."

Eddie put his hands on Quinn's robes and fiddled with the blue-and-bronze badge. "I guess we won't have to worry about detentions."

"As long as you don't do anything extremely foolish, you will enjoy the privileges of a Prefect pal."

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- (Scene Break) -

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"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," grimaced Marcus, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages were standing, waiting for them outside the station. Quinn, Luna, Eddie, and Marcus climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

"Did you read about the World Cup?" asked Marcus in the carriage.

"I was there when those people got there," joined Eddie. "My father got us out of there quick."

Quinn subtly glanced at Eddie. On the fateful day, Quinn had gotten to the campsite before the game started, and while he waited for the Death Eaters, Quinn, while scouting the grounds, had seen the Carmichael tent. It wasn't near where Quinn had dragged the Death Eaters to disable them, but it hadn't been far enough. If perchance a Death Eater tried to go that way, Quinn would be extra brutal; two had tried, and Quinn had sliced both of their legs cleanly.

"It's great that you got out early," nodded Quinn. The scene he had caused hadn't been pretty. The noise had been enough to make some people's stomachs turn.

The incident had had a lot of media coverage. Afterwards, it had been dubbed as the "World Cup Carnage" because of the fifteen people taken to St. Mungos. The Medi-healers had been so shocked that, after stabilizing all the patients, the entire staff had had a meeting to figure out how to undo whatever curse was cast on the fifteen. Someone from the hospital staff had ratted on the details of the treatment and conditions.

The details had been on the front page the next day, and all Britain came to know about the events. After that article, from the second day onwards, Rita Skeeter took over and she wrote all the cover stories for the Daily Profit. She picked up on the similarities between the Hogsmeade attack and came up with a trending article that attracted a lot of eyes and ignited a lot of conversations:

「Vigilante or Villain: The True Identity.」

The catchy headline boosted the sales of Daily Profit and every other newspaper and magazine that covered the World Cup carnage. It had been a boon for Quinn because he could keep track of the situation and the fifteen test subjects without moving too much. Rita Skeeter's investigation did all the work for him, and because the story was scoop-worthy, Skeeter for once didn't manipulate the facts, as the facts were juicy enough on their own.

Quinn had been happy to see that all fifteen test subjects showed favorable reactions. The reactions had been adverse to the victims, but they had been the best reactions Quinn could have hoped for. His sole visit to St. Mungos while legilimencing the lead Medi-healer had disclosed that everything from the shoulder below had been paralyzed because of the intense nerve damage. None of the fifteen couldn't so much as twitch their fingers, much less, raise their hands or grip something.

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, the carriages trundled up the sweeping drive while swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Quinn could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain.

Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Quinn, Luna, Eddie, and Marcus jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps, too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Marcus, looking at the dripping people, all soaking except them, "The lake's going to be in need of wat - WOAH!"

A big, blobby, red, water-filled balloon dropped from the ceiling onto Marcus's head and nearly exploded on impact - but it suddenly stopped in the air. Sputtering at almost being hit, Marcus staggered sideways into Eddie, just as a second water bomb dropped— narrowly missing Luna and almost bursting at Quinn's feet, but didn't, as it suddenly flew away and splashed away from the group, sending a wave of cold water over someone other's shoes and into the socks.

People all around shrieked and started pushing others in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Quinn looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his broad, malicious face contorted with concentration as he retook aim.

The first balloon, which had stopped in midair because Quinn was controlling it before it hit Marcus, suddenly turned back and shot towards the Peeves, drowning the Poltergeist in water. The vindictive Poltergeist screamed at being hit from his own water balloon.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!" Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall but then slid on the wet flood, so she grabbed Quinn around to stop herself from falling. Quinn took the Scottish witch into his arms and effortlessly stabilized her.

"Ouch — Excuse me, Mr. West —"

"That's all right, Professor." Quinn grinned. She pulled McGonagall up as if she didn't weigh anything.

McGonagall then proceeded to screech hell on Peeves. Quinn gestured to his friends to move along.

"Thank you for stopping the balloon," said Marcus.

Quinn put his left arm over Marcus's shoulder. "Don't mention it." He smirked. He raised his fake wand with his right hand and moved the water on the floor away from their path so that they wouldn't slip and slide.

The Great Hall was splendidly decorated as usual. Golden plates and goblets gleaned by the light of the hundreds and hundreds of candles that hovered over the tables in midair. The four large house tables were packed with chattering students and, at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along, facing their pupils. It was much warmer there.

The group walked past the Slytherins, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs and sat down with the rest of the Ravenclaws in the middle of the Hall, next to the Grey Lady, Helena Ravenclaw, the Ravenclaw ghost. Translucent as always, the Grey Lady was dressed tonight in her usual blueish grey dress, which held an aristocratic elegance in it despite being of simple design.

"Good evening," she said, staring at the current challenger of the vaults.

"Good evening to you too, my lady," greeted Quinn to the ghost who led Voldemort to Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem.

The conversation stopped as the Grey Lady went silent and Quinn went back to his friends. One of them didn't want to talk, while the other already knew the secret of the first.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Eddie, who was also looking up at the teachers. They had never had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Their favorite, Professor Lupin, had resigned last year. After looking up and down the staff table, they didn't see anyone.

"Don't worry about it; whoever it is will be here," said Quinn, looking bored, but inside, he was waiting for them to arrive so he could whip out Recon to confirm what he suspected.

In the very center of the High Table sat Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster while his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight. His magnificent deep green robes were embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together, and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. Quinn glanced up at the top too. It had been enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded out, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Aw, come on," Marcus moaned, opposite to the other three, "I could eat a hippogriff."

Just after he finished saying that, the doors of the Great Hall opened. Everyone became silent. Professor McGonagall started leading a long line of first years up to the front of the High Table. If the rest of the school were wet, it was nothing like these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were cold, shivering and nervous as they faced the staff table, halting in a line.

Professor McGonagall now placed a four-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an ancient, dirty, patched wizard's hat. And thus started the long yet festive tradition of house sorting.

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Marcus, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Dumbledore got to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Marcus loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates. The remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

After the puddings too had been finished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"Now that we've sated our hunger and quenched our thirst," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I must once again beg your attention."

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that the list of objects forbidden this year includes Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises over four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be seen in Mr. Filch's office should you like to check."

Quinn nodded in satisfaction, as none of A.I.D. products were on the forbidden list.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As always, I would like to insist that the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds to all students."

"It is my duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

There were many murmurs throughout the Great Hall and a few loud 'whats' from the Gryffindor table, but the loudest voice in the entirety of Hogwarts came from the Ravenclaw.

"What!... WHAT!... WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!" Eddie Carmichael stood from his seat and fixed his eyes on Dumbledore. He seemed as if he had killed his entire family. Every head except Luna's, busy eating an extra pudding, and Quinn with his eyes behind his hands turned to him.

Quinn's other hand went to Eddie's shoulder and pulled him down.

"Stop! Don't pull me down! Why the hell would he say that?! Who does he think he -" The voice cut off as Quinn silenced him with a silencing spell.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will start in October and will continue throughout the school year. As such, it will take up much of the teachers' time and energy— However, I am most sure we will enjoy it immensely. I have the great pleasure to announce that this year —"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled towards the stranger who, suddenly, became brightly illuminated by the lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, and began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily towards Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Luna gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into a sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any student had ever seen. He looked as though he had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like. Every inch of his skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him truly terrifying.

One of his eyes was small and dark. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye moved ceaselessly, without blinking, rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently from the normal eye — then it rolled right over, pointing at his back.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was badly scarred (just as his face) and Dumbledore shook it, muttering to him some words Quinn couldn't hear. He studied the stranger with an observant eye. The man sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the links, but the blue eye was still darted restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said

Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause. Still, none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore, Quinn, Eddie, and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded. Eddie clapped to release the frustration he was feeling. But the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped pretty quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again to his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak pulled a few inches from the ground, and some saw, below the table, several inches of a carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

'Polyjuice or not?' thought Quinn, and his hand went near the inner lining of his robe. In the end, he exercised patience and decided to wait.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody. "We have the honour of hosting a fascinating event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over three centuries."

"It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament shall be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly from the Gryffindor table. Both twins were grinning widely.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time… No..." said Dumbledore, "Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament… Well, I'm sure some won't know what this tournament is. As such, I hope those who do know forgive me for giving an explanation.

The Triwizard Tournament was first established about seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools would host the tournament once every five years. It had been agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities. Until, that is, the death toll became so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Marcus whispered, looking alarmed. But his anxiety was not shared by the majority of students in the Hall. Many of them whispered excitedly to one another, more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about the deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that no champion would find themself in mortal danger this time."

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place on October 31. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy of competing. The prize is a thousand Galleons."

"F*k it! I'm going to compete!" Eddie hissed, released from his silence. If there was no Quidditch, then he was going to use this to get a girlfriend. He didn't seem to be the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Quinn could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore or whispering fervently to their neighbours.

Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more. "As eager as I know you are," he said, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on the contenders. Only students of age —that is to say, seventeen years or older— shall be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."

'Yeah, right!' scoffed Quinn internally.

Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage. Eddie looked absolutely furious: "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous. All the precautions we take wouldn't be enough, as it is improbable that students below the sixth and seventh year would be able to successfully complete each task. I will personally ensure that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them the Hogwarts champion."

His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Eddie's mutinous face. "I, therefore, beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October and will stay with us for the more significant part of this year. I know that you will extend our courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when they are selected. In any case, it is late, and I know how important it is to be rested to follow class as well as possible. Goodnight! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"*#$% *#[email protected]$ %09$#!!!" A string of profanities escaped Eddie's mouth. The Irish descendant seemed to have picked a lot of new and innovative terminology in the summer break.

"Don't worry. I have something planned," spoke Quinn nudging Eddie with his shoulder. "I may be able to pull something out of my hat that will please you."

The hurling of continuous abuses stopped as Eddie looked over towards Quinn. "What?"

"Not right now; I will tell you after I know," said Quinn. He then put his arm around Eddie. "Don't try to get into the tournament. Don't even think about it. If you even go near it, I'll break your legs." Eddie felt constricted with the arm around him tightening.

"It?" asked Eddie, struggling to escape, but Quinn's grip was too firm.

"My fault... forget about it. If I see or hear you trying to get into the tournament..." The sentence didn't need to be complete as Eddie got the message loud and clear. He didn't know why Quinn was so strict about this, but looking at his expression, Eddie wasn't going to argue.

"Er, Quinn... aren't you going to guide the first years to the common room?" said Marcus from the side.

"Oh, crap!" Quinn released Eddie from his grip and turned back to see his female counterpart struggling with the firsties. "I'll see you guys in the dorms... Need to guide these little ones to the best beds of Hogwarts, first."

"Go get 'em~," said Luna with a yawn, her eyes drooping.

Quinn ran towards the Ravenclaw table. They had been out of the Great Hall after Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

"Sorry about that," he apologised to his Prefect companion and then turned to the first years. "I am Quinn West, fifth-year, Prefect. If you have any questions regarding anything, don't hesitate to ask me."

He paused and gave a smile to every first-year student and said, "If you check your pocket, you will find something special..."

The firsties looked at each other as their hands went to their pockets, but instead of empty pockets, they were surprised when their hands felt something. All of them hurriedly took out the mysterious object to find a black card in their hands.

"You hold the most powerful thing in Hogwarts other than your magic..." grinned Quinn as his words got their full attention.

'Time for advertising...' he thought, before opening his mouth to introduce them to his A.I.D. network system.

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- (Scene Break) -

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After the day ended, Quinn sat on his poster bed inside his dorm room with the curtains drawn for privacy. He could hear the soft snores from his roommates. The midnight moon shone outside.

A sizeable rectangle of fabric laid on the fluffy bed. With a touch along with a whisper, the magic inside came to life. Multi-colored inks came from within it and coloured the fabric in its pre-decided design.

「Welcome to Recon」

The text and the graphics on the fabric thrummed, spiked with activity as the welcome text in blue disappeared. A detailed floor schematic appeared on the cloth with colorful dots dotting on the map with name tags beside every dot. Three blue dots: Quinn West, Eddie Carmichael, and Marcus Belby sat in the room, unmoving. Quinn looked to the right and saw Luna Lovegood in blue inside the girl's dorms. Two green dots pranced around the common room below.

"... Alastor Moody." The second the words escaped his mouth, the Recon's schematic moved. The map moved and switched to the fourth floor, near the faculty apartments.

A red dot of an outsider with red text showed Alastor Moody in the corner of the room.

"I guess that because he still hasn't taught a class, he is still considered an outsider," noted Quinn. Recon showed outsiders in red while the teachers in purple.

Quinn didn't have to say the other name because another dot walked into the room and moved closer to Alastor Moody. "Bartemius Crouch Junior," said Quinn, and he watched as the two reds almost coincided.

"What should I do with you?" The mind of the boy-wonder began spinning as some thoughts and plans began to build themselves for the future.

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Quinn West - MC - Bow down to the perfect Prefect!

Ms. Rosey - West family caretaker - Has given her warnings.

Eddie Carmichael - In shock - "F*k you, F*k him, F*k everybody!"

Marcus Belby - Dry and hungry - Kind as honey.

Luna Lovegood - Third-year, Ravenclaw - Sleepy...

Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster - Death toll... anyway, let's move on.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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The storm had faded the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds swirled over their heads as Eddie, Marcus, and Luna examined their new schedules at breakfast. Quinn, unlike them, was reading a book from his personal library.

"Ugh, I should've taken Divination; this is getting ridiculous," said Eddie grimacing about his new weekly schedule, "Maybe I could drop Care this year. I don't want my O.W.Ls scores to suffer."

"It's our O.W.Ls year; it doesn't matter how many subjects you have. What matters is the subjects you prepare for," said Quinn. His hand held a goblet of chocolate-flavored milk. He continued to say with his eyes still roaming the pages, "The O.W.Ls will allow you to take N.E.W.T level subjects. If you think you can't handle all the subjects, then focus on the subjects you want to attend next year and drop the rest. The O.W.L scores don't matter after that, but the N.E.W.Ts will matter when you look for a job, so make sure to keep rethinking the decision about what you want to study. Consult with Professor Flitwick or me if you have any kind of doubts."

Quinn was going to take the O.W.Ls for all subjects this year just for the flex, but others weren't in his situation; they needed to think about their decisions. With the Triwizard Tournament upon them, many students would get swept in the excitement and lost focus. Quinn was going to make sure his friends wouldn't be those people.

"Today's not bad… at least we are inside," said Marcus, looking at the gloomy ceiling. "Charms with the Hufflepuffs and with the Gryffindors we have... Defense Against Dark Arts." He gulped. He was thinking about their new DADA teacher.

"I think Mad-Eye is wicked!" said Eddie, his face showing that he was somehow impressed by Moody's ghastly appearance. "I mean, that eye… the way it rotates in its socket is just… ohoho!"

"If you ever lose your eye to a dark curse, I'll make a special one just for you," chuckled Quinn. He took a sip from the goblet. He then took a piece of fruit that Luna was holding in front of him.

"... I think that it's wicked; never said anything about getting one for myself," shivered Eddie.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Instinctively, Quinn looked up. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. His MagiFax, for the most part, had been able to dominate the communication market, but owls were still employed for package delivery. Plus, owls weren't out of the letter business. His own grandfather still used owls to deliver enveloped letters for certain correspondences.

A large tawny owl soared down to Luna and deposited a parcel into her lap.

Looking at Luna opening her parcel, Quinn asked, "Are these this week's Quibbler?"

"Uh-huh," nodded Luna in confirmation as her dainty fingers ripped the wrapping. There were a dozen copies of the magazine, one each for Luna and Quinn while others for Luna to sell to the students. "Daddy published the article you submitted in this issue."

"Really? That's great," said Quinn, taking his copy from Luna and flipped through. The magazine in his hand rotated at unusual angles because of the unconventional page orientations.

"Ah, here it is," smiled Quinn, "Ten places to see when visiting wizarding Denmark."

"Daddy liked the places you recommended and instantly decided to add it to this week's issue," said Luna, her patent dreamy smile gracing her lips. She had been the one who had asked Quinn to write an article for Quibbler. "He says that if you have other things to write, you can send them in, and he will read them over."

"I will see what I can put together," said Quinn. He was reading his published article. He then discreetly glanced at Luna and smiled when he thought about the birthday surprise he had for her. Her birthday was in February, when Silver Moon Printing MagiTech would open its doors and introduce Quinn's developing potion, inks, and printers to the world.

'The Quibbler will be the first magazine to gain colour,' smiled Quinn, thinking about how giddy Luna would be to see her family magazine in colour.

His happy mood lasted all the way across the corridors of Hogwarts until they arrived at a classroom on the second floor (after attending the Charms class). Then, he was put off by Barty Crouch Jr. posing as Alastor Moody. He entered the room which looked strange and frightening. Quinn could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

'Polyjuice sure is a handy potion,' thought Quinn. He wondered how he would replicate Moody's unusual appearance with illusion magic. To make his disguise believable, he would have to add all the tiny details, like Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps. Something Barty Jr. didn't have to worry about, as he simply had to strap the wooden leg to his modified limb and be done with it.

"Mhm!" growled 'Moody', stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "All books, you really like books, eh? But let me tell you… they will be useless in my class. Put them away; you won't be needing them."

Quinn's eyes twitched when he heard books are useless. If he had been cautious of Barty Jr., now he straight-up didn't like him. How dare he say books were useless?!

The students returned the books to their bags. The Gryffindors seemed excited..

'Moody' took out a list, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, while his normal eye moved steadily down the list. In contrast, his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as they answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've received a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures."

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind —far behind— on how to deal with curses," said Moody.

"I'll have one year to teach you how to battle other wizards. Specially, Dark —"

"You'll only teach for one year?" asked Eddie.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Eddie. Eddie looked highly delighted that the magical eye was focusing on him. After a moment, Moody smiled— the first time anyone had seen him do so. His heavily scarred face looked more twisted and contorted than ever.

"I'm retired, lad," said Moody. "Yeah, I'm staying for just one year. Special favor to Dumbledore… One year, and then I'll be back to my quiet home."

He gave a harsh laugh and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So! Let's get into it. Curses. They have forms and uses. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in sixth year. You're supposedly not mature enough to deal with them till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves; and he reckons you can cope..."

Really? It surprised Quinn that Dumbledore would give his approval to this. On a second thought, Hogwarts was Dumbledore's school, so it made sense that Moody would take permission from Dumbledore.

"...and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to be friendly and polite about it. You need to be prepared. You need to be constantly alert and watchful."

Quinn internally debated that. He could be friendly and polite and still curse someone with some colourful spells. Get into their personal space without making them suspicious and strike when they weren't expecting it. Ambush 101.

"Mr. Belby, put that away when I'm talking," said Moody.

Marcus jumped in his seat and blushed in fluster. He had been reading the book under his desk.

'X-ray, huh,' noted Quinn.

"Your uncle did a great deed to wizardkind, so I'm going to let that go. Make sure it doesn't happen again," said Moody, and Marcus shyly nodded, embarrassed.

"So... Do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by Wizarding Law?"

Every Ravenclaw raised their hand, and even several Gryffindors hands rose tentatively into the air. Moody pointed at Katie Bell, but his magical eye was still fixed on Marcus.

"The Unforgivable curses, sir," answered Katie.

"How many are there, Ms. Bell?"

"Three, sir."

"Correct. Mr. Carmichael, can you name the curses?" asked Moody.

Eddie got up and answered, "The Imperius Curse, Cruciatus Curse, and… the Killing Curse." He gulped nervously at the end.

"Yes, be scared, lad. The three unforgivables aren't nothing to sneeze at." Moody's regular eye and magical eye moved in all directions to look at the entire class, who became uncomfortable under his gaze. "All of you should feel fear at those names. Fear will keep you sharp. CONSTANT VIGILANCE," he barked, and almost everybody jumped. "That's what you need to do to be safe."

Moody then opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. He reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leaped from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone laughed— except a few, like Moody, Quinn, and Marcus.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody growled. "Total control, I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats... You'd like it then, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"You are in your O.W.L. year. Already big boys and girls, old enough to be responsible. Any volunteers who would come here and show the class what it feels like to be cursed with the Imperius?" said Moody, and with his magical eye constantly turning, he loudly asked. "The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone can do it."

The entire class looked uncomfortable; no one wanted to get an unforgivable cast on them. Moody turned towards where Gryffindors sat but suddenly stopped as his magical eye rolled over into the back of his head.

"Mr. West, do you have a question to ask?" he said, turning towards the Ravenclaw to see Quinn raising his hand.

"No, Professor. I would like to volunteer… for the Imperius Curse, that is," answered Quinn.

Every person, including 'Moody', opened their eyes so much that it seemed they would almost pop out. They couldn't comprehend or believe what they were seeing and hearing. Him raising his hand and confirming his decision to volunteer was mind-boggling to them.

"Quinn!" whispered Marcus harshly, something not usually seen from the gentle Ravenclaw. "What are you doing?! Put that hand down; have you gone mad?!"

Marcus's words went ignored as Quinn and Moody stared at each other.

"All right, lad, come on then," nodded Moody and looked at the rest of the class. "You don't know, but you're lucky that you are fortunate to have a classmate like this. You'll be able to witness one of the unforgivable curses in a classroom without any danger."

Quinn stood up, patted an anxious Marcus's shoulder, and stepped outside to the front with several pairs of eyes following his every move. The disguised Death Eater and the volunteering student stood facing each other. One had a scarred and weathered face and the other was young and handsome.

"Are you sure, lad?" asked Moody. "You might regret it."

"As you said, Professor. It's a golden opportunity for me to see how the Imperius works. Better experience it now rather than at an unfortunate time."

No one in Quinn's life would willingly cast an Imperius Curse on him. His family would shut it down before he could say the "un" of the "unforgivables." Quinn was sure that he would be harshly reprimanded on even bringing the topic up. The only person who would remotely be willing to cast an unforgivable on him would be his teacher, Alan D. Baddeley. If Quinn asked Alan to cast Imperius (not sure about Cruciatus Curse) on him, the old man would do it without hesitation and quite happily. But Alan wasn't nearby, and Quinn couldn't ask Alan to drop by so that he could cast an Imperius on him.

'Moody' was the perfect opportunity to get exposure to the Imperius Curse.

"Remember, you asked for it," said Moody, and his wand went up pointing at Quinn. "Imperio!"

It was a most wonderful feeling. Quinn felt as if he was floating, a sensation where all worries were wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware that everyone was watching him.

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Give me all the monies you have to me… Give all the money you have on you to me...

'Hmm, yeah, right! Like I would do that!' Quinn enjoyed the floating sensation but scoffed at the part where the voice asked him to fork out his money.

「Give me all your monies to me...」

'Hey! It's my money; I earned it! This relaxing feeling is nice! Besides, who says 'monies' nowadays?

「GIVE THEM TO ME RIGHT NOW!」

'Aight, this got old pretty quickly,' thought Quinn, and his magic moved at his command. Like a glass dropping on the floor, all the fluffy goodness Quinn was feeling shattered.

Quinn raised his hand and fixed his already in place necktie. "Thank you for that, Professor. It was a unique experience," internally thinking, 'next time, I'll shatter the effects the second I start feeling good'.

"Look at that... West fought the curse! He fought it, and he beat it!" growled Moody in a happy voice. "We'll try that again, West. The rest of you, pay attention —watch his eyes, that's where you see it— that's perfect, West, outstanding indeed! Anyone will have trouble controlling you!"

Quinn exited the class feeling happy, as Moody cast the Imperius five more times to him, making Quinn more familiar with the curse. His confidence was high; he had fought off Barty Jr.'s Imperius without any effort. Which made Quinn feel like if someone more powerful than Barty Jr. cast Imperius on him, he would have high chances to escape its effects with some struggle and would have a chance to resist it, rather than to instantly lose control of himself.

"Quinn? How are you feeling, mate? Do you feel sick? Should I take you to the hospital wing?" asked Marcus, his face etched with deep worry. He wasn't comfortable with his best friend being subjected to the Imperius Curse.

"I'm fine, Marcus," said Quinn, putting his arm over Marcus' shoulder. "If you see me acting funny, just sock me in the face and take me to a faculty member, preferably Madam Pomfrey, then Professor Flitwick, followed by Professor McGonagall, and finally Professor Potter."

"I'll be happy to do that," grinned Eddie.

"You two...!" Marcus couldn't believe how lightly they were taking the matter.

"Marcus… this is just the start. Today he only showed the Imperius on a spider. He will show the other two in the next class. Be ready for it," said Quinn.

"B- But..."

"Don't worry about it. I will be there, mate. You don't have to worry about anything. I'll take care of you if anything goes wrong."

"Quinn... thank you, that means a lot."

Eddie gagged on the side and spoke.

"Get a room!"

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

It was after curfew, and Quinn was sitting at his office's table. His hands held a pair of stainless steel micro tweezers with tiny metal gears gripped at the end. In front of him was an open timepiece with gears and springs inside. It was Quinn's new timepiece, and he was currently building it from scratch.

Knock* *Knock*

The knock on the office door startled Quinn, and he ended up jamming the tweezers inside the mechanism, screwing his progress, rendering it null and void. He pursed his lips, held back a groan, and finally licked his lips to hold back his frustration.

He looked at the work-in-progress timepiece. He could assemble the mechanism in under ten seconds with one call, and Quinn was tempted to use magic but held back. He wasn't one to give up.

"Come in," he called, placing the tweezers down.

To his surprise, Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, entered the office. And from the looks of it, she wasn't happy.

"Professor, what can I do for you today?"

"Mr. West, may I know why aren't you patrolling your assigned area for curfew-offending students," she asked, feeling a little strange that she was saying this to the prime curfew offender in Hogwarts history.

"But I'm patrolling, Professor. I'm patrolling my area," smiled Quinn. "I handle everything from my office, which is the entire west block of the fifth floor."

"... I don't see you patrolling, Mr. West."

"I don't need to patrol physically, Professor," grinned Quinn and pointed to his forehead. "I have layered my entire area with wards. If someone walks inside my area, they will trigger the wards." Quinn's office was on the edge of the west block, so Quinn would know if someone walked five meters west past his office.

"Working hard is good, Professor, but that is if you work smart. If someone enters the area, I can simply get up and chase them down instead of aimlessly roaming a fixed route."

"And what if you don't get this area again?" asked McGonagall.

Quinn chuckled and interlinked his fingers over his table. "We Prefects along with the Head pair have already distributed the castle, and I got this area for the rest of the year. If they reassign me, I can ward the area again and set my base in another classroom. Though I doubt I'll be losing this area anytime soon… I can be very persuasive."

"Of course, I know that, Mr. West," sighed McGonagall. She was surprised by the patrolling approach, but when she took Quinn West into consideration, it wasn't surprising at all.

"Mr. West... I heard about you volunteering for Defense Against the Dark Arts. How are you feeling? I heard that you broke through the Imperius, but I don't think it would've felt good."

"On the contrary, Professor. Being under Imperius is quite relaxing. As long as you ignore the commands... it's quite nice, actually."

McGonagall seemed relieved to hear that. If Quinn wasn't happy and he informed George West, Hogwarts, especially Moody and Dumbledore, would have a lot to answer.

After conversing a little about the O.W.Ls and other things McGonagall said farewell and took her leave. When the Professor left, Quinn took out Recon and switched to Moody and Barty Jr.'s place.

"Hmm, now that's surprising, is it?"

Barty Jr.'s red label had turned to purple.

"Well, he did teach, so it kind of makes sense. Anyway, let's get back to it," said Quinn and returned to building the timepiece for his new pocket watch.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Quinn West - MC - "Work hard, work smarter."

Marcus Belbly - A good friend - Will punch Quinn, if necessary.

Eddie Carmichael - Ravenclaw Jock - Like Quinn, he loves Moody's fake eyes, but for different reasons.

Luna Lovegood - Hogwarts Quibbler supplier - D.O.B: February 13, 1981.

Barty Crouch Jr. - Alastor Moody - Feeling doubt in his magic capabilities.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

The night sky was aglow with the bright lights of the stars, shining upon even the most remote places. The pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw among the blanket of stars that stretched to infinity.

Quinn was standing on his favorite outdoor place in all Hogwarts; the Astronomy Tower. The tallest tower. The calm wind of the night stroked Quinn's face, making his skin tingle with a slight cold. He liked the Astronomy Tower because of the unique peace it had.

"A couple more minutes," said Quinn while looking at his new pocket watch. "Just a little more to September Eighth."

In a couple of minutes, the day would turn to September Eighth, that is, the day Quinn had arrived in this world. Eleven years of living in the magical world of Harry Potter. He sighed; how long had it been since he had thought of this world as the world of 'Harry Potter.' It had been a while since he had stopped looking at the world he lived in as a fantasy world of fiction and had come to recognise it as something real.

He had lived in this world seven years before coming into contact with the Potters. He had gained a new family, formed new relationships, and made a place for himself in this world. He had found something he loved from the bottom of his heart and had developed close connections with people he cared about.

All those elements had made this world go from something he had read about in books and enjoyed as movies to something real and genuine. A thought that didn't seep through him until now that he was thinking about it. A part of him still couldn't believe that it had been so long; he had been living in a world of magic for over a decade.

He moved to the side and started to remove his clothes till he was in a simple white tee and white shorts before returning to the center of the tower. He stood there waiting for it to happen.

Four years ago, he had experienced a late transition to the stage of magic development that children from eleven to seventeen years old enjoyed. They would enter a state of magical flux and have a better focus ability and an increase in the quantity of magic in their core. Using magic would accelerate and boost their results.

Quinn wasn't sure if it would happen again, but he hoped that it would, as he would gain lots of benefits. He had tried to research on this subject matter, but upon extensive reading in his personal library, the Room of Requirements, and the few days of access to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library that he had been able to get from multiple Professors (stating that he needed research material on their subjects), hadn't given him anything conclusive.

"I'm prepared... if it happens, then good. If it doesn't, I will go on with my life."

Quinn would have no qualms about spending eleven years in this world even if they went unrewarded. After the day four years ago, Quinn had already mapped out how much magic he would have at his eighteenth birthday, which was the day the flux state would transition into maturation. He knew how much work he would have to put to get maximum gains from the seven years and had planned short-term, mid-term, and long-term goals for achieving the best he could.

The boost from the Sin vault had been an unexpected blip in his plan, and he had had to redraw the development plan to assimilate the bizarre year and the changes it had brought.

'As long as I keep working hard, I will come out as the world's most magically powerful eighteen-year-old at the end of this. Better than Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Voldemort, or any other magical that has walked on this planet,' thought Quinn. These were the gains he would naturally get in his life; thus, Quinn wanted to be the person who took the most advantage of it by the time his life ended.

A sound resembling a tuning fork being hit broke the silence of the night and caused Quinn to look at a corner where his neatly folded outer garment with his new pocket watch sat.

"It's time."

It was already September 8. Quinn closed his eyes... seconds passed, and Quinn stood still with no movement, and all he noticed was the sound of crickets in the background.

He opened one eye and looked left and right. '... What? Is it happening? No…? Let's wait a bit more' He closed his eyes once again and waited for a while. But nothing happened. Eventually, an hour passed, and nothing happened.

"... Was it wishful thinking? I seem like a fool. Yeah, an idiot," said Quinn, smacking his lips. He picked up his clothes, got dressed, and went back to the Ravenclaw common room after wasting one hour.

"That was stupid!" complained Quinn in his bed as he pulled up the sheets. He went to sleep feeling irritated with himself.

Sleep took over Quinn after half an hour of silent bitching and moaning. The second Quinn entered REM sleep, inside Quinn, his soul started to thrum and vibrate in a space outside of the physical plane. The foreign soul that chanced upon a different world and resided in a body, not of its world, started to go through a transformation.

The soul that had nothing to do with magic was able to access it through the native body. Through the years of being in contact with the mystical energy known as magic, the soul had been slowly changing, transforming to gain access to magic. After eleven long years, the transformation was complete. The soul had normalised being in contact with magic. It now held the same properties as any other soul that could be found in a magical.

And as Quinn slept, the soul finally went through a qualitative change.

The 「BODY」 had always been from this world, had always been able to access magic.

The 「MIND, through its connection to the brain, which was a part of the 「BODY」, also could access magic and, with ample training and daily use, had become enabled with magic.

Now that the 「SOUL」 was going to get direct access to magic, "Quinn" would finally be one.

The magic from the soul plane crossed over to the physical plane, and the dorm room that had three fifth-year boys lit up. The light was so bright that it passed right through the bed curtains. A window that shone with a bright light could be visible from Hogwarts, and anyone looking from the outside would wonder what the hell was happening. The common room down the stairs was getting light from up above, and even the other dorm rooms along the staircase had bright light coming through the doors.

The owner of the soul slept through the entire process along with the whole Ravenclaw student body.

Mind, Body, Soul.

The ultimate trifecta was now complete. Working in a symbiotic union to function as the magical human known as Quinn West.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Quinn lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. After waking up at six in the morning for years, his internal body clock made him wake up at six o'clock. He sat upon his bed, his hands stretching above his head. As always, his sheet slipped off his body and started to fold itself, and as he stood up, the bed cover would fix itself, and the pillows would become fluffy once again.

He then walked to the bathroom the three had to brush their teeth. With a sway of his hand, he made his toothbrush magically move. Quinn's eyes were staring down, still a little drowsy from the late last night. He breathed through his nose and stood up straight. He closed his eyes and stretched his body to shake off his lethargy.

His eyes opened up with sleep out of them and peered at the mirror in front of him. For a second, the toothbrush kept brushing, but what Quinn saw surprised him so much that he lost control of the brush. The toothbrush with lathered paste fell down, but before it could touch the floor, it stopped, hovering a bit.

Staring back, Quinn had his handsome face, with a mild case of bed hair. But instead of his usual stone-grey eyes, his two orbs were a vivid purple in color.

"What the hell," said Quinn with toothpaste in his mouth. He leaned closer to the mirror, left hand on the edge of the sink, while the right pulling down the lower eyelid to get a better look at his eyes.

"Why are they purple?" But before Quinn could get an answer, he blinked, and his iris were back to their usual stone-grey.

"What?!"

He spat out the paste into the sink, and twisted the tap to let out water for gargling. Quinn felt the usual control he had over water when he touched the tap, but then he found himself staring at the running water. The running water stream thrummed, disturbing the flow. As he stared at the water, Quinn's ears picked up the sound of his heartbeat. As that sound got louder, the thrum in the water started to match with the heartbeat, eventually coinciding with each other. Every beat of his heart matched a thrum in the water.

His eyes went up from the tap to the mirror, but this time he wasn't looking at his image, but the water pipes behind that carried water to the faucet. Quinn slipped into the feeling and found that he could feel every water pipe in the bathroom. The sense of water inside the walls became stronger as he sunk deeper into the state.

Quinn felt like he could squeeze the water out of the metal pipes, the bricked walls, painted surfaces or simply force the water to burst out, ravaging everything in the way between the water and him.

He didn't do any of that.

"Something happened last night." Quinn was sure of it. "I didn't have this level of control last night." Quinn's control over water was top-notch, but this level of sense where he could sense it through layers of obstruction hadn't been in his skill set.

The young magical dove deep into his body and snooped around his magic control, but there were no changes. With him just waking up, the magic core was full, and it was as full as yesterday. His mind immediately went to last night.

"Something definitely happened," repeated Quinn and flexed his magic to test out if something was different. Everything in the bathroom, from the mirror to the showerhead to the far right, rattled.

But he wasn't expecting the sudden yell from outside, and Quinn knew exactly who yelled and why. He ran out to see Eddie on the floor beside his bed and Marcus standing up on his bed, looking alert in confusion and surprise at being woken because of the sudden sound and shake of his head.

"What? What? Was it an earthquake?" said Marcus.

"I don't know! Ugh, my elbow hurts," groaned Eddie as he held his elbow, which contacted the ground when he fell off the bed.

"I didn't feel anything," said Quinn, lying, as he was the reason behind everything. Inside his mind, the thoughts were running at the speed of light, 'Holy shit! It just came pouring out.'

Quinn had to pull out the magic from his core every time he wanted access to it. As his focus ability increased, the process got more accessible, faster, and he could pull out more and become more precise with the measurements. Right now, he had wanted to pull an amount to rattle everything in the bathroom, but the amount that had come out had been enough to shake everything in their dorm.

"Whatever, now that you guys are up don't go to sleep. You are both coming with me to run," he said, ignoring the groans.

He went back into the bathroom and threw up a silencing ward.

"For the love of magic! I. AM. AWESOME!"

The rapturous laughter echoed inside the bathroom, staying inside the four walls, as the silencing ward did its job. Quinn then walked out and found that both of his friends had gone back to sleep.

"Marcus! All you can eat at the Three Broomsticks at the next Hogsmeade weekend; it's on me. Eddie, you too, I will buy you enough butterbeer so you can bathe with it if you want. The response he got was two pillows to his face.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

For an entire week, Quinn's mood had been at an all-time high. Experimenting with his new magical capabilities had been exhilarating. His control now was so smooth that Quinn felt he had been running with weights around his ankles.

That entire week he busied himself with going over every piece he had ever learned and performing them one after another. He found that not only his control over them got better, but his magic regeneration was also faster.

If before he could call upon one unit of magic out of his core, now it was more precise to say he could call a third of that amount as the minimum. An ability that helped him out immensely with delicate applications of magic like transmutation with great details and alchemic procedures that required a tight grip on magic flow.

Right now, he was sitting in his workshop looking over a cauldron inside. In it there was a bubbling poison that turned the stomach acid into a corrosive liquid capable of burning through the stomach and other entrails. A bubble-head charm laid over his face for protection from the fumes.

His concentration was interrupted when he heard a voice inside his workshops.

"Quinn..."

Looking up from the cauldron, Quinn saw a half-transparent, fat ghost dressed in monk robes sticking out of his glass wall.

"Friar, fancy seeing you here," said Quinn. At the same time, he thought about researching for some wards to keep ghosts out. Which was difficult, as a ghosts' existence was tied to the very magic of Hogwarts.

"Aye, you didn't visit me, so I decided to come to you," said the Ravenclaw ghost.

"Oh, sorry about that, Friar. I was going to visit you but got a bit distracted," said Quinn, as he continued to stir the cauldron.

"... I wondered whether you want to challenge the next vault," said Friar, studying Quinn's reaction.

"I will challenge it, Friar. It's one per year for me," answered Quinn. "Now that you're here to give me the next clue... Heh, with you here, I'm getting excited for the next vault, Friar. Come on, tell me about it."

Last year, Quinn and Friar had a talk about the results, and Quinn's performance was all Friar needed to see to believe he had completed the vault. Friar thought that Quinn had found secrets to some ancient magics that had allowed him to perform feats not possible for a child of his age.

"If that's what the challenger desires, then that will be what he gets," nodded Friar. He came out of the wall and floated above the cauldron. His greyish body turned a slimy yellow.

.

[

Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead

Hang stars like seeds of light

In vain, though not since they were sown, was bred

Anything more bright.

And evermore mighty multitude ride

About, nor enter in;

Of the other multitudes that dwell inside.

Outside is white and gold,

Inside is for brave and bold.

Venture through the deep and treacherous mines

Pointless all it would seem;

But persist through the endless vines

The reward is grand, I deem.

]

.

"Huh," said Quinn as he sat down on a barstool. "Friar, did you work on the rhyming?"

"That I did," said Friar feeling proud. "I got tips from the sorting hat. It taught me from its millennia of experience."

That made Quinn laugh. He could imagine the hat and Friar talking to each other about poems, rhymes, and songs. A magical artifact with a personality and an imprint of a departed soul exchanging notes on building music and riddles. Quite bizarre, indeed.

"It definitely worked," he said, noting down the fourth riddle, "... a-and done. That's it, Friar." Quinn looked up and smiled, "I'm ready for the challenge."

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Quinn West - MC - I am not a computer; I don't need to shut down to install an update.

Friar - Hufflepuff ghost - Music... is mighty!

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[

AUTHOR'S NOTE PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING.

There is a public post on my Patre0n page. Meaning that it's free for all, unlocked for everyone to see. You don't have to pay a single knut to access it.

The post has what I see of when I think of Quinn. It's his character appearance.

Of course, I'm a firm believer of free imagination, so you can imagine him in any way you desire, while adhering to the simple written descriptions that I've provided through out the story.

The link to my page is in the synopsis and at the top of this chapter. Change the "accented ó" to a "standard o"

You can also search FictionOnlyReader Patreón on google to get to my page or add fictiononlyreader in front of the standard Patreón URL.

Thank you. . . Please proceed as you wish.

]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Three days after Friar gave Quinn the riddle, he was walking across Hogwarts' grounds. There was short green grass under his steps as he moved north, away from the castle. The sun was bright, although there were clouds skidding along the sky that provided a much-needed aide from the heat to the inhabitants of the land.

Ahead, Quinn could see the Whomping Willow standing in all its glory. It swayed gently, as if performing a dance to the sound of nature. While it seemed gentle, it wasn't. If you stepped close without precautions, the big Willow wouldn't show mercy, and branches as thick as pythons would assault whoever approached without mercy. However, a pinching hex from afar to the knot at the base of the tree would calm the woody guardian.

He walked past the Whomping Willow and started walking on a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into thick black trees. While Quinn was looking at the forest, a light breeze lifted his hair.

"Dark in the forest and deep, and overhead, hang stars like seeds of light," sang Quinn. He stepped into the forest that was dark as coal.

The bright and sunny day rapidly shifted into darkness. Quinn lifted his chin to look up at the thick canopy that covered the sky from his view. Thin beams of light would occasionally sift through the spaces between the leaves like... stars in the night sky.

"In vain, though not since they were sown, was bred, anything more bright." His hands brushed against the dark bark of one of the trees. Quinn stopped near one of them and scouted the area ahead.

He could see beech, oak, and yew filling the forest. Kneeling down, Quinn let his hand ruffle through the grass. He plucked a small herb that growed in the darkness of an encompassing canopy.

"Knotgrass," said Quinn in identification. Quinn twisted the grass-like herb with his fingers. "Essential for Polyjuice. I wonder if Barty has come to pick some up."

Quinn got up and continued his walk. A place where more than a few students had disappeared over the centuries since the school's inception (that was the reason the forest had been named 'Forbidden Forest').

As Quinn continued to walk deeper, the forest started getting denser; its trees started growing closer to each other, and not a peep of noise could be heard except his footsteps.

"And evermore mighty multitude ride about, nor enter in; of the other multitudes that dwell inside," he continued to sing the riddle.

He didn't have to walk in silence for long, as Quinn heard knocking of hoovers and a gallop from his right, beyond a maze of trees, just outside of his vision.

"Oh, they found me, huh," whispered Quinn. Precisely what he wanted.

Quinn patted his chest, and the Noir transformative suit, which had been in the green camouflage mode, changed to a black camouflage to suit the dim lighting and dark trees around him. He pulled up the hood over his head, and with a wave of his hand, a black mask covered his face.

And into the view came... Was it a man or a horse? The figure had the waist of a man with red hair and beard, but below, he had a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. A centaur. Behind that centaur were six more of different shades and colors, bringing up the tally to an auspicious seven.

The half-men galloped around Quinn with arrows drawn upon their bows pointing at Quinn. After seeing that the human wasn't making any movements, they stopped running around and surrounded him. Their arrows, though, were still pointed at the unknown figure.

"Human… Why have you intruded into our home?" asked the red centaur.

Quinn turned in his spot and observed the seven centaurs. He had seen centaurs during his travels and talked to a few, but this was the first time he had met some with their weapons pointed at him.

Seeing that the human in front of him wasn't replying, one of the more hot-hearted centaurs pulled the bowstring tauter.

"Speak human!"

"Centaurs... residents of the forest," started Quinn, his voice distorted. "I have no qualms with your kind. I want nothing from your kind. I solely desire to reach my goal." He turned towards the calmer leader and asked, "Lead me to the vault that is cursed, and I will be on my way, not to be seen ever again."

The Forbidden Forest was too big and clustered for Quinn to spend his valuable time searching for the vault. He needed a guide.

The mention of "the vault that is cursed" sent a wave of whispers among the centaurs. They were not prepared to hear those words, and a few of them rested their bowstrings and lowered their weapons.

"Human, how do you know about the cursed mines," asked a centaur, his horsetail swaying gently. He looked older than the rest of his companions.

'Hmm… so the mine in the riddle is literal,' thought Quinn back to the last paragraph of the riddle. "I am a challenger who aspires to test my mettle against the cursed vault that is here in the Forbidden Forest."

"Impossible! There hasn't been a human challenger for the cursed mines," exclaimed the hot-hearted centaur. The hot-headed centaur hadn't been born back then, but he had grown up listening to stories about challengers from the elders. Stories about multiple centaurs that had ventured the vaults and paid it with the ultimate price; their lives.

"Show me which way to go, centaur, and I will be off," said Quinn. He didn't need a guide. He could find the path on his own.

"We won't do that."

"Why," asked Quinn with his magically distorted voice.

"We don't trust you," answered the head of the small herd. He looked Quinn up and down. He wasn't impressed by his attire. "Shed that disguise of yours, and then we talk."

"That isn't needed, centaur," said Quinn. "Show me the correct path, and I will leave your kind alone, just as your kind desires."

Quinn's words caused their bows to be aimed at him again. This time, though, the threat didn't go unanswered. The centaurs heard a crackle and saw icy blue beneath the human's feet. The temperature dropped. Suddenly an unnatural cold enveloped them.

"I don't wish to fight," said Quinn in warning.

"This is our territory, human. You won't tell us what to do!"

Quinn turned to the centaur who had said that. "Be careful, centaur. I'm not of your kind, so think carefully before you decide to shoot at me."

The tension between the two parties grew, as some of the centaurs felt the need to launch their arrows with cold growing increasingly chilly around them. And just when the dam was about to break —

"Stop!"

A voice gave a pause to everything. Eight pairs of eyes turned to see another centaur; he had blond human hair and the body of a palomino horse. He looked younger than the rest of the centaurs.

"Firenze, what are you doing?" asked the leading centaur.

"Mercury has left the House of Secrets and has entered the House of Ambitions," said Firenze. "The stars were clearer than ever last night. I believe they were showing me something."

Quinn tilted his head in confusion. If there was one magic that Quinn didn't understand, that was Divination-slash-Seer magic. He had no aptitude for it. Although he used the stars and planets' positions when he brewed some potions, when he performed alchemy, and when he needed to do some runic interpretations.

"Have you gone senile, Firenze?! Planetary movements don't trouble themselves with actions of worthless humans," yelled the oldest centaur of the group.

Quinn ignored the rude jab. In a way, living beings had no worth at all, considering the size of the universe.

"He wants to challenge the cursed mines. As far as I know, no human has ever challenged it. Even we ourselves haven't dared in decades. This is big enough for the stars to show me something," declared Firenze.

Quinn stayed silent. This Firenze was making his job easier. He didn't mind letting him do the job for him.

"Besides, we can't harm a child. It's against our honour."

Occlumency came faster than ever and clamped on Quinn's surprise. Donning his Noir transformative suit hadn't been a fashion statement; he used it to stay hidden, to keep his identity confidential. And now that centaur just revealed his age.

"Child? I don't see it," muttered the red-haired centaur and turned to look at Quinn.

"He has the vitality of a child. Look closer, and you will see it. The sun illuminates him," instructed Firenze. His younger age didn't make him a lesser Divinator. No. Firenze had a more potent Seer blood running through his body, which gave him a stronger connection to his Sight.

Three of the seven centaurs found Firenze to be correct and put down their weapons. The rest who weren't well-versed in Divination followed the others. A centaur's honour didn't allow them to hurt a child.

Firenze gazed at the figure dressed in pitch black, and even though he couldn't see the face, much less the eyes, he knew that the human child was looking back at him.

"I shall guide you to where you want to go. Follow me."

Quinn stared at Firenze and at the rest of the centaurs for a while before finally stepping forward. The chill that enveloped the area subsided. Though he didn't drop his vigilance, as he exited the circle of centaurs. He moved to Firenze's side.

The centaur and the human lead the way. The seven other centaurs followed behind, keeping their distance from the human who had intruded in their home.

"Why do you desire to enter the cursed place, human?" asked Firenze. "I never understood why even my kind wanted to go there. So many have lost their lives, saddening their families, just because they wanted to explore the unknown."

Quinn didn't reply. He just walked through the forest, occasionally snapping the branches, tendrils, and roots that threatened to trip him.

"Tell me, child. How did you know about the cursed pits? We thought that the pits were the secret of our forest. I wonder how you, a human, know about them."

The question was returned with silence. Quinn saved in his memory the path they were taking. He didn't want to interact with the centaur, but he couldn't concentrate on his task when he could feel Firenze's intense gaze looking at him from his side.

"What are you doing, centaur?" Quinn gave Firenze a side look.

"It's strange, very strange," muttered Firenze. His eyes stared at Quinn as if looking through him. "There seems to be a haze over your fate. I can't see through it. I haven't seen something like this before. . ."

Quinn's eyes widened a fraction, and his distorted voice warned, "Stop it, centaur. Stop whatever you're doing. I don't want the Sight to be used on me."

"Why?" asked Friar in surprise. Looking for signs of the future was a part of centaur culture; he couldn't understand why Quinn would refuse.

"I and fate don't get along. I don't want to hear what she wishes for me. I stay outside of her interventions. The last thing I want is for her to take notice of me," explained Quinn.

He didn't want anyone with the Sight or power of a Seer to tell his fate to him. Quinn feared that someday, a Divinator would make a prophecy about him. That was the last thing Quinn would ever want. He preferred to have freedom instead of knowing something vague about an uncertain future where there was a high chance of him getting involved.

"We are here," noted Firenze. He pointed out the way with his hand.

Quinn looked at the place the centaur's hand indicated. The place he stood in was dim by all standards; the canopies did a good job in blocking the majority of the light. It was almost impossible to see what lay ahead. It was too dark. The trees looked darker than ever, and the eerie chill didn't seem to welcome many living beings. It looked like the pitch-black darkness of the place seemed to suck in everything, not even letting the light escape.

"The ones who live inside aren't kind even to us residents, much less to an outsider like you. Have you made up your mind, young challenger? If you go inside, you might not come out."

"If I go inside, then the ones who live inside might not ever get a chance to get out," said Quinn. His distorted voice and dark attire made it seem like a demon issuing an ultimatum.

He turned to Firenze, "Don't bother to wait, centaur. I'll manage to find my way out." With that, Quinn stepped into the darkness until Firenze couldn't see him anymore.

"May the stars be with you, challenger," said Firenze and he walked away.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Quinn stood still in the blackness. He was unable to see a single thing around him. But unlike in Tehom's Delight, he wasn't able to move unrestrictedly because of the branches, vines, trees in his path.

'Unlike in Tehom's Delight...' Orbs of light appeared around Quinn. '... I can light things up.' The shimmering orbs of light floated away, cycling around Quinn, creating a circle of visibility, illuminating everything within.

"Much better." He stepped over a now visible over-the-ground root and began his journey to the unknown part of Forbidden Forest.

Slowly making his way inside, he passed through a maze of beech, oak, pine, sycamore, and yew. Every tree had been tainted with a coal-like tinge. A tinge that matched its surroundings. Even with shimmering magical orbs shedding ethereal light, the surroundings remained bleak and morose.

The dead plain through which Quinn passed quickly came alive as a rustling of leaves began to be heard. Suddenly, a horse-sized, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic spider leaped toward him from a crouched position. Quinn turned his head back.

A screech shattered the silence as an acromantula smashed against a magic blue crystal shield. The shield caused its skin to scorch, causing the spider to leave the place screaming.

'Knew that it would come in handy,' thought Quinn. Not a shield spell he would regularly use as he would normally strike from the distance.

Click, click, click.

The spider wasn't alone; he had brought his companions along and they didn't seem to like Quinn, as acromantulas of various sizes threw themselves against his shield.

"What in the world?" Quinn's eyes darted from side to side as his shield was continuously attacked by carelessly lunging acromantula bodies.

Quinn began to worry as he began to see their bodies pierce the shields just before they walked away from the pain of the intense burns.

"I'm not that tasty," gulped Quinn. His mind was racing among the screams, screeches, and click-clack of pincers.

"All right, I've had enough. Time to go on the offensive."

Ice started to form around Quinn. Tens of spikes started hovering around him, growing till they were the size of his arms... And then it began. The spikes shot out towards the spiders, nailing them and drawing their blood. Immediately after, another set of ice spikes would appear, and another wave of spears would hit out.

"I need to get out of here. I'm not equipped for this," sighed Quinn while keeping on shooting out spears towards the horde of spiders. He couldn't see anything outside his cycling lights, and Quinn couldn't have that. Right now, he didn't even have an idea about the number of foes that surrounded him.

He started to ran while firing ice spikes and pouring magic into the shield. The spiders in the meanwhile were trying to ram him from behind, right, left and above. If it hadn't been Quinn, they would have been in trouble from the strain of magic consumption. Having to deploy hundreds of ice spears while maintaining a shield would have been like an impossible feat for most wizards.

"Ah, I can see light," said Quinn. But... "I'm not going to make it out this way... need a little boom-boom." There were just too many spiders in front of him to get out without an explosion, after all.

Quinn melted the ice and clasped his hands together. Suddenly, an orange light started to build up between his palms. Quinn's eyes remained fixed on his hands, ignoring the fact that the acromantula's pincers were coming dangerously close to him, only being safe because the spiders couldn't stand the pain of being burned.

The orange light began to get brighter as the seconds passed. 2... 6... 10... 15 seconds passed before Quinn looked straight ahead and opened his hands. An orange flash covered the entire area. The light was so bright that all the shadows seemed to disappear.

Even though Quinn couldn't see, he believed in his magic, so he ran forward. He didn't meet a single spider in his path. He kept hearing clicks and squeaks in all directions, but his path ahead was clear. With his eyes on the ground, he jumped over a large root. He rolled in the darkness to a comparatively brighter part of the Forbidden Forest.

He did not let go of his shield and immediately prepared himself. Curses with destructive capacity flared over his hands, but there was nothing. The spider seemed to have disappeared as if they had never existed.

Quinn's breathing became laboured, his eyes alert. But nothing came out. He looked at the violet spell on his left and the maroon spell on his right. He shot them into the darkness... To no avail... not a sound could be heard.

"What the hell."

He hadn't been injured, but that had been the most overwhelming experience Quinn had ever had.

Who knew what creatures awaited inside for him. Quinn for sure didn't know what to expect. What he knew was that if he wanted to achieve his goal, he would've to go through their residence. Residents that lived in the dark, black, and gloom… Residents that lived in the underworld.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Quinn West - MC - Was worried for a second.

Firenze - Centaur - Strong Seer with a connection to the luminaries.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

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The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Just as Quinn had predicted, Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"But... but you said it was illegal, Professor," said Marcus, uncertain, as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving ample clear space in the middle of the room. "You said… that to use it against another human was..."

"Dumbledore wants you to know what it feels like," answered Moody, his magical eye swiveling on Marcus with an unblinking, eerie stare. "And I've already performed it to West. I should go to Azkaban for all we know. It won't cost me anything to do it again on you.

However, If you'd rather learn the hard way —when someone's attacking you— fine. You're excused. Off you go."

Marcus hung his head and walked back in defeat. Quinn rested his elbow on his shoulder. "You're overthinking about it. Relax a little. It will be over before you know it."

"W-What if he asks me to do something horrible?" asked Marcus, his forehead sweating with anxiety he was feeling.

"You'll be fine," said Eddie chiming in. Unlike Marcus, he didn't seem worried. "Whatever he does, it won't be worse than you almost fainting and wetting your pants in front of the Banshee Boggart."

"L-Like you're any better. Who was the one to clean his bed for a week after seeing a Boggart becoming his mum," quipped Marcus.

Quinn couldn't help it. A short laugh escaped him despite trying to hold it in. He turned his head away, but Eddie could see Quinn shaking in laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" spat Eddie, his cheeks pink. The Boggart becoming his mum had scared him enough to clean up for an entire week.

The timid and gentle Ravenclaw seemed to have forgotten his anxiety and worries about being subjected to the Imperius Curse. His shoulders were no longer tense and the pallor of his skin was improving.

'I wonder if the Ministry knows about this,' thought Quinn, wondering whether Dumbledore had informed the Ministry about this teaching method or not. 'Well, I hope the Ministry won't interfere. He is a good teacher, I guess.'

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Quinn watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Eddie hopped three times around the room, yelling out the lyrics of his favorite song. Katie Brown imitated a grumpy cat. Marcus performed a series of quite astonishing dance moves he would certainly wouldn't have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody removed it.

"West," called out Moody as students walked out at the end of the class. "Stay back. I want to talk to you."

Quinn gazed at the imposter before gesturing to Eddie and Marcus to go on without him. "I will catch up to you, guys."

Eddie and Marcus exchanged looks before nodding and exiting the classroom with the rest of the students, leaving Quinn and Moody alone in the classroom. The desks were pushed to the side and Moody was standing in the middle.

"Yes, Professor. What do you want to talk about?"

"It's your fifth year, lad. Have you thought about what you want to do in the future? After Hogwarts," asked Moody, his natural eye fixed on Quinn, and surprisingly, the usually restless artificial eye, too.

"... I want to travel the world, Professor. Learn magic and have new experiences," answered Quinn, his eyes trying to see where this was going.

"Hmm, have you thought about becoming an Auror after Hogwarts?" said Moody, as he took out a silver flask from his waist. He pushed it up against his scarred lips and took a swig.

"Auror, Professor?"

"Yes, Auror. We haven't been doing well on recruitment lately. We need some new good blood within our ranks. You being able to shrug off the Imperious along with your grades would make you a perfect candidate," spoke Moody, his eyes darting up and down.

'Oh ho, he certainly is playing his role,' thought Quinn. He found it absolutely hilarious that a disguised Death Eater was recruiting him to become an Auror.

"I haven't thought about being an Auror yet, Professor. From what I have heard, it's a rewarding job, but other than that, I haven't given much thought about becoming an Auror or a Hit Wizard."

"What subjects are you going to take next year?" asked 'Moody'. The man seemed to have gotten used to his new Professor occupation.

"All the subjects that I have now. I'm trying to keep my options open," replied Quinn. He was sure he wouldn't get something below an Outstanding (O).

"Good, good. Give it a thought. We need wizards like you in the force. You never know when the next Dark Lord will come along," nodded Moody, putting on a face of vigilance. "If you ever have any problems, don't hesitate to come to me. I would love to see you grow to your full potential, West. I see a lot of promise in you."

"Thank you, professor," nodded Quinn.

Moody nodded and, without a word, briskly exited the classroom with his wooden leg making distinctive clunking footsteps going up the corridor.

"Trying to build connections, eh, Barty," whispered Quinn, smiling. "I'm Quinn West, all professors love me. I'll play along with you for now."

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

After finishing their classes, twenty-four students gathered inside a classroom in the Transfiguration wing of Hogwarts. They sat in different parts of the room and divided themselves into groups. The door opened, and Minerva McGonagall and two students entered the classroom.

"Good evening, Prefects. I hope everyone is well," said McGonagall. "Is everybody here? Let's see, ten... eighteen... twenty-four. Excellent, everyone is present."

She walked to the Professor's podium and looked over the four groups and the two students that had come with her; the Head boy and Head girl. They were sitting down in the center of the room.

"As you all are aware, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang shall be arriving in a week, and we will need to make them feel welcomed," said McGonagall, pausing for a second. "As representatives of Hogwarts, you will need, as prefects, to be role models for the entire student body. As such, I expect all of you to be on your best behaviour. Furthermore, make sure that every student follows your lead. It is crucial that we maintain a proper image in the eyes of the delegations. We mustn't show any unsightly behaviour. Especially in front of them."

She gave the twenty-six students a no-nonsense look.

"Am I understood?"

The student representatives silently nodded. No one was willing to crack a joke in front of McGonagall when she was like this.

"Excellent," nodded the Deputy Headmistress. "Moving onto the next topic of this meeting. I need volunteers to help out the foreign students during their stay at Hogwarts. Your responsibility will include: to be an intermediary between them and our students, to answer any questions they have, to guide them through Hogwarts until they are used to the castle, to cater to their needs, and to solve any problems that might arise between them and us."

McGonagall, who was looking at the parchment on the podium, didn't notice that every prefect was giving a discreet glance to one person in the room.

"Any volunteers?" asked McGonagall, looking up from the podium.

A few hands raised in response. All of them were curious about the foreign students, but only a few were confident enough to deal with the responsibilities.

"Good," nodded McGonagall, smiling at the number of raised hands. "Before I assign you into two groups, I want to know if any of you speak either French or Russian or both."

A seventh-year Slytherin girl Prefect that was sitting with the Slytherin group raised her hand.

"Ms. Parlet, which language do you speak?" asked McGonagall.

"I have a question, Professor," said Parlet, lowering her hand. "I understand that Beauxbatons is in France, but Durmstrang's location is unknown. As the students speak Russian, does that mean Durmstrang is in Russia?"

"No, Ms. Parlet. The location of Durmstrang is still unknown. Russian is the language requirement if you want to attend Durmstrang. Students communicate and learn in Russian. It's their lingua franca, so to speak. Whether Durmstrang is in Russia or not? That we don't know."

"It's in Norway," came a voice from the Ravenclaw group of Prefects.

Every pair of eyes in the room, without exception, turned to the voice.

"Mr. West… why do you say so." asked McGonagall, sighing. She knew she wouldn't be able to move on without listening to the answer.

The fifth-year boy Prefect, Quinn West, sitting smack in the middle of the Ravenclaw group, spoke up.

"I believe we should start with the coat of arms in order to figure out the location of this school of magic," The tone of voice and pace of words grabbed the attention of everyone. "There's a double-headed eagle in the Durmstrang coat of arms. And this eagle was the symbol of the Byzantine Empire. Afterwards, Albania, Austria, Germany, Greece, Russia, Serbia took it, too. Another thing we can see is an onion dome which is associated with the architecture of the orthodox church in eastern Europe. Furthermore, the word 'Durmstrang' is written in Latin and Cyrillic alphabet."

Almost everyone in the room except Quinn blinked when he started to lay down some history. Some of them, who noticed Quinn's neutral expression, started to wonder whether this was considered common knowledge or not. It didn't seem so to them, at least.

"Even though we don't know the precise location of Durmstrang, a lot of people have tried to locate the school. From all that effort, we have found with hundred percent certainty that the school is in the north of Scandinavia. That much we already know," quoted Quinn, some knowledge he had gathered. "Given that they will be arriving by ship, we can deduce -"

"Mr. West, how do you know the Durmstrang delegation will be arriving by ship?" asked McGonagall, as she had yet to reveal that piece of information.

"- I have my sources, Professor," answered Quinn offhandedly. "Where was I? Ah, yes. As they will be coming by ship and the fact that the Great Lake is connected to the ocean with waterways, we can assume that the school is near a water body like a sea or an ocean."

The Prefects and the Head pair looked at each other with questions in their eyes. The Great Lake was connected to an ocean? They didn't know that. McGonagall, who noticed the looks, sighed inwardly. This information wasn't restricted so to speak, but it had been kept secret. This had gotten to the point that, aside from a few students, no one knew about that.

"If we put this information together, I can say with reasonable certainty that Durmstrang is in Svalbard, which is a Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean. Everything fits. The archipelago was discovered the same century the school was founded. Moreover, for centuries it had been part of the Russian Empire. That is, until the 1920s, when it became Norway's. The population is partially Norwegian and partially Russian, which explains the cultural hints in the symbols of school. And the lands there— there are mountains and lakes! Also, these lands are almost not populated by muggles, which makes it a great place to hide a school of magic."

There were no words spoken after Quinn finished, and except a few short claps from the Hufflepuff group, the room was silent for a moment.

"... Mr. West, do you know how to speak Russian?" asked McGonagall.

"Hmm? Ah, no, Professor, I can't speak Russian," replied Quinn; he wasn't acquainted with Eastern Slavic languages.

McGonagall held back a sigh and took a moment for herself. While the history and theory were fascinating, it wasn't the time for it. The deputy had a lot on her plate, and she needed to finish this meeting quickly so that she could move on.

"Let's get back to the topic. Is there anyone who can speak either French or Russian?"

One arm raised from the crowd, and McGonagall once again held back a sigh, "Yes, Mr. West. What is it?"

"I can speak French, Professor."

"... You can?" asked McGonagall, taken aback.

"Yes, Professor. I'm half French from my mother's side," answered Quinn. "I can speak French with near-native fluency. I can also speak Latin and Italian at a level where I can hold a conversation with a native without any problems. I'm getting Spanish to that level. Just need a little work on it; I need a speaking partner to get some practice. Finally, I added Portuguese to my repertoire last year, but I find speaking it hard. I will probably become fluent by next year."

The romance languages were the languages that had evolved from vulgar Latin between the third and eighth centuries. The six most spoken romance languages were Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, Romanian, and Catalan. Quinn had learned French from his grandfather. Latin on his own because a lot of his books in his library were in Latin. In regards to Italian, he had practiced it together with Lia because their mother spoke it. Finally, he had picked up Spanish and Portuguese because all the Romance languages were quite easy to learn if you knew Latin. As he learned more and more romance languages, it got progressively easier for Quinn to pick them up.

"That's great!" said McGonagall, lethargy disappearing from her face in an instant. "Mr. West, you will be a part of the French group. Please make sure that they don't have any problem."

Quinn took out an A.I.D. card from his pocket, held it with his finger, and with a flick of his wrist, the black card went flying across the room, arching beautifully in mid-air before gracefully landing on the Professor's Podium.

"Way ahead of you, Professor."

McGonagall picked up the card. It was the familiar black card with golden text, but her eyes widened a fraction when she noticed the language. It wasn't English.

"This is..."

"French, Professor," said Quinn. "The Russian cards will arrive here by the end of the week. As I said, I'm not fluent in Russian, so I had to ask a Russian translator to translate the text. The Russians cards will arrive here before the delegations, so we're good."

"I-I see..." said McGonagall. She could almost see it. French and Russian students taking the modified cards and finding the A.I.D. office to solve their problems. "... Mr. West, you... you aren't going to charge them, right?"

Quinn smiled, "If they ask me something that enters in the role of being a Prefect, then no. If they ask the owner of the A.I.D. I'm sure we can work something out. It's just a matter of the services they require, Professor."

"Please make sure to inform them, would you, Mr. West. I don't want complaints from their side," said McGonagall.

"Of course, Professor. Always absolute professionalism."

The meeting ended after McGonagall divided the Prefects into groups. The French delegation with Quinn in it would be led by the Head Girl from Hufflepuff. They had a small meet of their own, before the Prefects would be free for the day, except their routine patrolling.

Quinn was getting out of the Transfiguration wing making his way to his office when his name. He turned to see Cedric Diggory jogging his way towards him.

"Diggory, what can I do for you?" asked Quinn. He and Cedric were acquainted well enough for him to talk to Cedric twice or thrice a week.

"I was going to the fourth floor and wondered if you would walk with me," said Cedric, his patient calm, yet charming smile on his face.

"Of course. There is no need to ask," replied Quinn as Cedric fell into step with him. "So I heard you're going to participate in the tournament."

Cedric was in his sixth year, but since his birthday was after September, he joined a year later and was already of age, making the Hufflepuff seeker eligible to participate in the Triwizard Tournament.

"Wha-! How did you know? I haven't..." asked Cedric, genuinely feeling shocked that Quinn knew about his decision.

"I've my ways, Mr. Diggory," said Quinn with a hint of a smile on his face. "Have you thought it through? From what I've found out, the tournament is going to be dangerous. Are you confident in your abilities?"

Cedric recovered from his shock and nodded with confidence. His body language was screaming that there was no doubt about his participation.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Hmm… Well, right now, all I can do is to wish you luck. The chances are strong though," said Quinn. He took out an A.I.D. card and held it in front of the Hufflepuff.

Cedric was about to politely refuse —as he already had a card with him— but then he saw that it had a new design, so he took it.

"If you ever need anything, anytime, contact me, and I will sort it out," said Quinn as he joined his hands behind his back. "If you get selected as the champion, then you'll get a massive discount. I would help you out at dirt cheap prices. Practically free, I say."

Cedric grinned at those words. He had been to A.I.D. a couple times, and not once he had been disappointed. "I will probably come to practice my spells against you. Who knows, maybe I'll win."

Quin laughed at the statement. Cedric was talented and knew his magic, but his chances were infinitely low in front of him. "Let's keep them private. I don't want my record to be tainted. Need to keep it at sixty-nine, can't have it go to seventy, can I?"

The sixty-nine streak had been paused because of his Lust-infected brain, but Quinn was trying to get over it now.

If Cedric knew the significance of it, then he didn't show it and simply nodded. They separated on the fourth floor, with Quinn climbing up to the fifth floor.

'I need to keep an eye on him,' thought Quinn. The events had changed, and Quinn was sure that what happened in the books wouldn't happen. But... 'There's no harm in keeping an eye out for all of them,' thought Quinn; he was going to be very observant this year.

He needed to be.

There was only one week until all parties arrived at Hogwarts.

The clock was ticking.

.

-*-*-*-*-*

.

Quinn West - MC - Romance language enthusiast.

Alastor Moody - Barty Crouch Jr. - Has his own plans.

Minerva McGonagall - Deputy Headmaster - The busiest she had been in Decades.

Cedric Diggory - Hufflepuff - Champion candidate, prefect.

.

-*-*-*-*-*

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https//fictiononlyreader ]??

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

The next day, notices were drafted and put up on the notice boards in the common rooms and the places that had high activity for students to see.

.

[

ABOUT THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive at 6 o'clock on Friday, 13th October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in the Great Hall to greet our guests.

Participation is mandatory. Absence from the Feast or any unsightly behaviour will have consequences.

]

.

"Brilliant!" said Eddie. "I'll have Care on Friday. I'm seriously thinking about dropping the subject. I like Hagrid, but the man just demands too much." Eddie sighed. He was thinking about how much time he had had to spend observing and handling magical creatures to write his reports.

"The 30th, that's less than a week away. I can't believe we'll be sharing classes with two other schools." Marcus spoke, his eyes still looking over the notice, memorizing the spellings of the school names.

"Uh-huh... more customers," smiled Quinn. "Luna, we have to be prepared for them. Today we'll be going through the changes we'll make to accommodate them."

"Okay, I'll bring pudding," nodded Luna. "I hope they don't bring Nargles in. It would be a pity for the Nargles to return; they haven't done so since last year."

The three boys exchanged glances, nodding in recognition. They knew what Luna meant when she said Nargles. Since last Christmas, they had been making sure no one made fun of Luna, but they hadn't been sure hundred percent because Luna never told them anything, so hearing that the 'Nargles' had disappeared from her life was confirmation that she wasn't having any problems.

"They won't, Luna," said Marcus, smiling gently. "Your Nargle-repellant items must have finally worked."

The appearance of the notices around the castle had a profound effect upon its inhabitants. The Triwizard Tournament seemed the only topic discussed in the following week. Lots of rumors started to spread from student to student as if they were a highly contagious virus; who was going to apply for the Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would ask for, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would differ from each other, etc.

Quinn noticed, too, that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as if they had raw pink faces. All armour started to gleam and move without needing to hear squeaking noises. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was so ferocious to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

After a stressful and challenging class, McGonagall could be heard reprimanding Neville about his dismal magical skills —he had knitted cactuses on his ears— and begging him not to show this to the delegations. Flitwick, who had used a stack of books to make himself taller so that he could see above the podium while teaching, would fall down multiple times a day. Sprout almost had a killyshoot weed breakout in one of her greenhouses, which nearly reached the other greenhouses in a single night and came dangerously close to destroying other produce. Snape would be more snappy at the students, which, in consequence, would make their lives a little bit miserable every second both inside and outside his classroom.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

However, Quinn wasn't worried about it. The tensions that grew between Prefects and Professors didn't affect him. He was used to dealing with multiple different people everyday and knew the language of the people he was going to handle. There were cultural differences that he would need to look out for, but other than that, Quinn was all set up for the job.

Quinn went on his day without change. He had a lot of work to do, and one day only had twenty-four hours in it.

Currently, he stood in front of a raised table deck, his eyes focused on the task in front of him. On the table sat a wooden quad-stand, and atop of that stand was fixed a tri-clawed gripper. His hands were by the sides of the stand. From his fingertips, a pulsating red sphere with magical yellow threads moved into the gripper.

"Test #41," said Quinn, and a fountain pen scribbled Quinn's words.

The yellow threads of magic glowed intensely as Quinn poured in the magic. The red sphere began to change, with veins appearing all over the sphere. Quinn's face brightened as he saw positive progress, but his joy was a bit too early as the red sphere began to squirm and wriggle before the sphere turned into a blob of goo and dripped on the stand.

"For the love of -!" groaned Quinn and waved an irritated hand over the mess for it to vanish as if it was never there.

With a face that seemed as if he had sucked on a sour lemon, Quinn said, "Result failure, compilation failed. Reverting the process back by ten stages to Test #31." Quinn had made a development decision on Test #31, which was supposed to come together on Test #41, but he had being wrong, as Test #41 had shown.

"Ugh, back to the drawing board." With another wave, potion vials, beakers, burners, herbs, preservation jars, among other things, flew across the room to their respective places.

A paper slid across the table, and with a fountain pen that Quinn had grabbed out of the air, Quinn started to write out some notes. He did as such whenever he made some progress or to correct something.

Ding, ding* Quinn heard the familiar charm his office had. A customer had arrived. He cleaned up and walked out to greet the student-in-need. He found...

"Ms. Granger," he said, before turning to her companion, the redhead, green-eyed girl. "... Ivy." The think tank of the Golden Squad was standing in his office. Something he hadn't been expecting anytime soon. Not after the memories associated with this office in particular.

"How may I help you, ladies?" he said as he sat down. He invited them to sit down as well. The duo wasted no time in doing so.

Quinn expected them to start right off the bat, but they didn't. After a little while, he noticed their expressions and the general vibe that was between the two best friends.

"Did you two fight or something?" asked Quinn, noticing that the two faces were facing slightly away from each other and the light crease between their brows.

"She's being stubborn," said Ivy, giving Hermione a subtle side look.

"She's being archaic," said Hermione, full-on glaring at Ivy.

"Huh, that is... interesting," said Quinn, humming. A fight between the inseparable power duo? Not something you could see every day. "... what I don't understand is why are you two here? Don't get me wrong, I'll be happy to solve your conflict, but you know..."

"We are here so that you can stamp some sense in her head," said Hermione with a tinge of viciousness.

"Not from where I'm sitting. You're the wrong one here," spat Ivy. She said that with such fury that it seemed Hermione was an offending stranger.

"Hoho, I see, tell me, then. What's the issue here? I would love to help," said Quinn. The two girls were so busy glaring at each other that they didn't hear the laugh in Quinn's voice and the glitter in his eyes.

"House-elves!" exclaimed Hermione with some heat. "There are house-elves at Hogwarts and not some, but hundreds of them! Did you know about this?"

Quinn blinked his eyes, and he immediately understood what they were fighting about. He had never been so fast in deducing something. He was very familiar with what was going to follow.

"Yes, Ms. Granger, I'm aware of the presence of house-elves in the castle," said Quinn; he regularly met them when he dropped by the kitchen.

"Then you must know that they don't get paid! Or get holidays! They have never heard about sick leaves or pensions! They. Are. Being. Treated. As. Slaves! Besides, there is not a single mention of them in Hogwarts: A History! What is this!" This was the first time Quinn had heard as much passion from the top scorer of her year and, if he was honest, he was a little surprised by its intensity, even though he knew it was coming.

"See?" scoffed Ivy jutting her chin towards Hermione with her arms folded, a derisive smile on her face. "Hear the nonsense she's spouting? This idiot has no idea what she's talking about."

'Daamn~!!!' thought Quinn. He was enjoying this a bit too much.

He turned to Hermione and asked her a question, "Ms. Granger, may I ask why you came here? You know that I'm a pureblood who has been born and brought up in a magical household and community."

"-I…! I-I didn't think of that," replied Hermione. For a moment, it looked like she would be able to restrain her anger a bit. She glanced at Ivy and saw her smirking and that... brought the frustration and anger back.

"You could've simply gone to Professor Potter. She is a first-generation witch just like you but, unlike you, she has been a part of the magical community for way longer," said Quinn.

"She's too busy with the tournament preparations. We decided not to disturb her," explained Ivy.

"I see, let me ask you something, Ivy. Why do you think it's alright for the house-elves to work under these conditions?"

Ivy shrugged in answer, "They obviously like to do work. I haven't met a single house-elf who doesn't like to work, so why take it away from them." To Ivy Potter or any person who had grown up in the magical community, the existence of house-elves was common sense.

"Look what she's saying! As they like to work, let them work. They are obviously brainwashed for who knows how long, and now all of them feel like their current situation is something normal," said Hermione.

"Okay, I understand the crux of the matter and what seems to be the problem," said Quinn, nodding. "I understand both of your positions. Your background and upbringing are the reason behind your thoughts. However, unfortunately, none of you are right, I'm afraid."

Their arguments had no logical or solid reasoning behind them.

"I guess I'll have to explain to you why house-elves behave as they do. I hope that by the end of my explanation, both of you will have a level of understanding behind house-elf behaviour," said Quinn.

"House-elves are magical beings. In fact, on average, they use more magic than we humans do every single day… Unfortunately, they don't possess magic of their own."

The expression of surprise and confusion was evident on both of their faces. Ivy, because she hadn't been taught that fact, and Hermione… Well, she knew through books that house-elves used magic to perform household tasks, so she didn't clearly understand what Quinn meant.

"They don't require a focus to perform magic because their internal focus is potent enough for them to perform a wide range of magic but, in exchange for that versatility and magic conduction, they lose out on the internal source of magic. If we, humans, didn't have our intelligence, we wouldn't be the dominating magical race on the planet; we don't have that naturally potent internal focus that so many other races have."

Like their non-magical counterparts, magical humans' intelligence was why they could be the top race capable of hunting more powerful races like Dragons, Nundus, Thunderbirds, among many other powerful races.

"Unlike us, who have a magical core in our bodies, house-elves lack that. They can perform magic, but they aren't able to garner it… but nature and evolution granted them a way to gain magic. They evolved with the ability to draw magic from an external source," smiled Quinn, thinking about the wonders of magic and magical creatures. "The source? A few races were compatible with them, humans being one of those races. And because humans populated the earth more than any other compatible races, house-elves gravitated towards humans."

"They have the ability to use magic in return to slave-like life, that doesn't sound like a fair deal to me," argued Hermione.

"To us humans? Yes, that isn't a fair deal, but house-elves aren't humans. Magic shares a deeper connection to them than to us. They need to perform magic to feel free; without it, they feel restricted, their existence bound. Their life without magic isn't great at all."

In some cultures, house-elf blood was used as focus cores because of their potent internal focus core. It wasn't used in any of the wand-using countries because of the image house-elfs had, but a few countries had no qualms using house-elf blood.

"In some ways, you're both correct," said Quinn to both of the girls. "House-elves don't have to serve to use their magic, but after being under the rule of humans for generations, they have eventually understood that if they took care of their houses, then humans would give them magic. Repeat that for centuries, and you'll get a race that has servitude as a normal part of their lives; they have accepted it and crave for it because their instincts tell them that this will get them magic. I guess, 'brainwashing' might not be the correct term, but it's close. They enjoy work because it allows them to use magic, and if they do their job correctly, humans will be happy and thus they'll keep getting magic."

"Polly!" he called, and with a pop, there was a house-elf standing on the table.

"Why little master call me?"

Ivy and Hermione watched with interest and surprise at the house-elf that stood on the table. They had seen house-elves, but this one was different from the others. She wasn't dressed from a dirty pillowcase or rags but in a clean toga. She had a simple crest of crossed wands, with a galleon on the intersection and behind that was a peacock with its plume spread.

Magic, money, and wisdom.

"This is Polly, the West family house-elf. She's part of the family. I wouldn't be able to imagine a day where she isn't family," said Quinn.

Polly turned to see two girls sitting in the chairs, and then looked at the table. "Little master had guestys and gave no tea? Missy Rosey no be happy."

"It's fine, Polly; they'll be leaving in a bit," smiled Quinn before turning to the girls. "The problem isn't servitude. It's the way humans treat house-elves. You don't need to free them because their lives would become miserable if you do that. What you need to do is change the way they are treated."

He turned to Polly and asked, "Who are you bound to, Polly?"

"Little master's father's fathers."

"And has grandfather ever mistreated you?"

"No, the big master is good."

Quinn turned back to the girls and continued, "Polly is family. Yes, she does most of the housework, but that's because it's her life. We don't stop her from doing things essential to her life. She has her own interests. Polly likes to learn new recipes, new ways to clean the house… she likes to find paints that go well with each other, and myriads of other things. She is her own individual, and we respect that... Nothing special, just basic humane treatment."

"Little master need Polly?" asked Polly, looking impatient.

"... No, Polly, I just wanted to prove a point."

"Okay, Polly go now. Polly busy." And then she popped away without another word.

"I have a question," said Ivy, unfolding her hands. She leant forward.

"Ask away."

"Are all house-elves here connected to the Headmaster?"

"Oh, no," said Quinn, shaking his head with a small smile. "One hundred and thirty-seven house-elves would bee too much of a load for one person. The house-elves are connected to the castle; they are connected to Hogwarts."

Hermione raised her hand in question, "But you said..."

"Hogwarts is a special place, Ms. Granger," said Quinn. "It is filled with us students, and that has changed its nature to a mystical one. I haven't found the reason yet, but house-elves are compatible with Hogwarts."

Hermione and Ivy stayed silent for a moment.

Quinn didn't disturb them but took out two half-slips of paper and started writing on them.

"Thanks for explaining... I would have gone down a different path if I didn't know this," said Hermione.

"I know," chuckled Quinn. He slid two half-slips across the table. They stopped when they were before the girls. "This is for the both of you."

The girls picked one slip each and looked at them with confusion. On the paper, they saw a charge of three galleons for a consultation session.

"Apologies if I assume wrong, but I split the bill," smiled Quinn and looked at them.

Ivy looked up from her bill. She said with an expression of disbelief,

"You are rich!"

"I know," nodded Quinn. "Believe it or not, the rich care more about money than the poor… Now, pay up."

Their meeting ended with Quinn smiling at the sound of galleons hitting his table.

"Happy to be of service."

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Quinn West - MC - Cough up the money, lassies.

Polly - House-elf - Little master can be silly. Wasting Polly's time.

Ivy Potter - Red cat - Short 3 galleons, but made up with Hermione.

Hermione Granger - Brunette Cat - Short 3 galleons, but made up with Ivy.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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When the students came down for breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Dining Hall had been decorated overnight. Huge silk banners hung on the walls, each representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver snake for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' Head Table was the most prominent banner of all, the Hogwarts banner; a lion, eagle, badger and snake joined together by a large letter H.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air. Nobody (professors included) was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang that evening; even the students who had Potions found it more bearable than usual, as Snape was quieter than usual. The bell rang early, and the entire student body went to their dormitories, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs to the Great Hall.

Each Head of House was ordering their students to sit.

"Sit down, children!" shouted Flitwich with his squeaky voice. At that moment, it held a lot of power. "Remain in your seats and don't move around. You can do whatever you want after, but right now I want discipline...! Carmichael! Get down from the table and sit on the bench!"

The squeaky yell almost made Eddie fall from the table. He stumbled around as he rushed to sit back on the bench.

"Ms. Lovegood, please remove that dragon hat from your head," sighed Flitwick. "Yes, yes, I know you want to represent the school. Right now, you need to sit down like a good student. Yes, thank you... you know what? Please, give me that hat. I will return it to you after the feast."

He took the headwear that had the shape of a dragon from Luna, shrinking it down so he could pocket it.

"Mr. Belby... If I see your hands moving towards your mouth… If I see you chewing, swallowing, or eating anything in general, I'll deprive you of your sense of taste and smell for an entire week. Put that candy down and clean the table! Don't try your chances, it won't go well."

The threat caused the table to be cleaned faster than what any house-elf could ever accomplish. Within seconds, the candy pack disappeared, and the table was sparkling clean.

"Prefects!" called out the half-goblin half-human Professor. "Follow me, please. It's time."

"See you guys in a bit," said Quinn smiling to his friends, who all had been reprimanded by Flitwick.

The Prefects, the Head Boy and Girl, every Head of House, and Dumbledore came down the steps and lined up in front of the castle.

It was a cool, clear evening; twilight was peeking over the horizon, and a pale, translucent moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Quinn stood with the Ravenclaws prefects, and as prescribed, he took his place at the front with the fifth year prefects, just behind the Headmasters and the faculty.

They were watching excitingly the darkening grounds, but nothing was moving yet; everything was still, silent, and quiet as usual. The students started to feel cold. They wished the delegation would hurry up... Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance… There was a tendency among the magical kind to show off when gathering in groups.

Quinn, too, wanted them to hurry up, he was comfortable in the cold, but he wasn't okay with boredom. Standing there doing nothing wasn't his style. He couldn't take out a book to read because Flitwick would yell at him, and he couldn't mess with magic because... Flitwick would yell at him.

Suddenly, Dumbledore called out from the back row where he was standing with the other teachers. "Aha! Unless I am mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where are they?" asked a sixth-year Hufflepuff Prefect, looking eagerly in various directions.

"There!" said the Head Boy, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick— or, perhaps, a hundred broomsticks— was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the Gryffindors.

"Don't be stupid... it's a flying house!" said a Slytherin.

The Slytherin's guess was closer... As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights that shone from the castle windows lit the shape up, they saw a massive, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them. The carriage was flying thanks to a dozen Abraxan winged horses, each the size of an elephant.

The Hogwarts professors drew backward, as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed. Then, with an almighty crash that made Flitwick jump back onto Snape's foot, the horses' hooves, wider than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery-red eyes.

'Elephantine palomino Abraxan winged horses,' noted Quinn. He had just the time to see that the carriage door bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully.

Then they saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage —a shoe the size of a child's sled— followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The enormous size of the carriage and the horses was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Lots had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was the gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Hagrid; and they doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow —maybe simply because they were used to Hagrid— this woman (she was on the ground, now) seemed even more unnaturally large.

As she stepped into the light coming from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face, large, black, liquid-looking eyes, and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Quinn and Dumbledore started to clap; following their lead, the others broke into applause too, a few of them craning their necks to get a better look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile. She walked towards Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, and barely bent to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," said Dumbledore. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I hope you are well?"

"Excellent as always, thank you," he said.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Quinn, whose attention had been focused entirely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed there were about a dozen boys and girls in their late teens. They emerged from the carriage and were standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Quinn could see (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"Has Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him, or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a bit?"

"Warm-up, I think," said Madame Maxime in accented English. "But the horses —"

"I believe our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "he'll take care of the horses when he finishes dealing with a situation he has with other —er— of his charges."

"Skrewts," supplied Sprout.

"My steeds require... forceful handling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted that any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "They are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Would you please inform Hagrid that the horses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"I shall inform him," said Dumbledore, also bowing. "One of our students will escort you inside."

McGonagall turned towards the Ravenclaw group and spoke, "Mr. West, please escort the Beauxbatons delegation into the castle."

"Yes, Professor," said Quinn and stepped out of the group towards the French delegation.

"Bonsoir," said Quinn with a smile. He continued to speak in French. "Please follow me. I will lead you to the castle."

The sudden fluent French from a Hogwarts student surprised the Beauxbatons group, but they didn't have time to react, as Quinn turned and started to walk. They could only exchange looks and follow him.

"Thank you for traveling all this way. I'm sure it wasn't an easy journey," said Quinn as he took out his fake wand and pointed it up while casting magic. The Beauxbatons students suddenly felt the cold leave as warmth enveloped them.

"Your French is excellent," said Maxine, looking at Quinn with interest.

"Thank you for the compliment, ma'am," smiled Quinn as the group climbed up the stairs to the entrance hall. "My grandmother was French. I have been taught the language since I was young."

The group entered the hall, and the surroundings were illuminated by the light in the hall. As he was requested, Quinn stopped in the middle of the hall and turned towards the Beauxbatons group.

"We will enter the hall when the Durmstrang delegation arrives," informed Quinn. "Until then, please make yourselves comfortable, and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me questions. I will try my best to answer all of your queries."

"What is your name, child?" asked Maxine; looking down from her towering height, there was a look in her eyes.

"Oh, my, how forgetful of me," he said and, with a smile, introduced himself. "My name is Quinn. I'm a fifth-year student here at Hogwarts."

Maxime continued to look at Quinn for a few seconds. "You are a West, aren't you?"

Quinn held the twitch in his eye and a click in his tongue. While he never hid his name from anyone in Hogwarts, he never had wanted anyone to know his real background. It was convenient that not a lot of people knew about the Wests. Besides, he only bothered to interact with people whom he got along with, such as the Greengrass sisters, the Potter twins, or the faculty. He didn't try to get close to others who he didn't like; for instance, Draco Malfoy.

To him, it would be tremendously annoying if people realised his family background. Bugs would start to wander around, trying to please him because of his family wealth. To his luck, his background had been able to remain mostly anonymous. He had, for a reason, not given his family name to Olympe Maxime.

"What gave it away?" asked Quinn.

"Your eyes, little one," answered Maxine. "Your sister has the same eyes as you. And child... you remind me too much of George West. You know, I was disappointed when I got your rejection letter. I wish you had attended Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts."

"I'm sure I would've loved it," spoke Quinn.

The conversation ended there. Quinn looked over towards the students and saw them looking towards him.

He smiled and initiated a conversation, "Hello, how are you all? Are you excited about your being in Hogwarts?"

One of the Beauxbatons boys nodded with a friendly smile, "Yes, it will be a unique experience, I'm sure."

"Are all of you going to enter your names for the tournament?"

"Yes, we went through a selection process; the fifteen of us have been selected as champion candidates," said the late-teen proud of himself. The rest, too, held some level of proud expressions.

"Well, congratulations for being the best," said Quinn. "As I said, if you have any questions, I'll always be there. If you have any problems that you need to solve, feel free to contact me."

After saying that, Quinn took out a thin stack of French A.I.D. cards and handed them one card each.

"These cards have a map that will lead you to my office," he said, and the Beauxbatons students saw a small square with an arrow pointing towards a direction. "If you follow the arrow, you'll arrive somewhere where you'll have solutions to all of your problems."

Quinn got to the last student. He looked at the girl in front of him.

'Beautiful,' was the first thing Quinn thought.

She was tall and willowy, with an air of grace that made her seem like she was a princess in an ivory palace. Her very presence seemed to emanate a faint, silvery glow. She had long, silvery-blonde hair that fell almost to her waist. She had shining, deep blue eyes, fair skin, and very white, even teeth. All about the girl in front of him was breathtakingly beautiful.

Quinn immediately knew who she was, but as he handed her the card, he asked, "May I know your name?"

The question brought smiles to a few Beauxbatons students, while others didn't look so happy. They knew what was happening, and to some it was amusing, but to others, it wasn't, because they didn't want to be in Quinn's place when everything ended.

The girl grasped the card with her dainty gloved hand, and with a smile that screamed pride, self-confidence, haughtiness... and a sense of superiority. She introduced herself.

"Fleur Delacour."

Quinn nodded, and with the card out of his hand, he walked away without any further words. The sudden leave stunned Fleur, and her eyes followed Quinn with a surprised expression. Beauxbatons students were also rendered stunned as they were expecting a completely opposite reaction. Maxime, too, looked at Quinn with interest in her eyes, although her expression betrayed nothing.

'So that's how it feels, huh,' thought Quinn as he walked. 'Veelas and their allure can be dangerous... uh-huh, yes they are.'

The second he laid his eyes on her, he realised what an absolute beauty Fleur Delacour was. She was at the level that she would be able to turn a hundred out of a hundred heads when passing by, but when he stood face-to-face, the French Veela transcended all levels of beauty that Quinn had ever witnessed.

Quinn had felt his heart quicken just a notch. His pupils dilated, as if he couldn't take his eyes off her. The allure washed over him, doing what it did best, enhancing her natural beauty to an enchanting level. But, then, his magic kicked in; it felt the foreign magic, recognized the effects, and finally, the will be had honed through cold, pain, suffering, and turbulent waters took care of it. Even without her Veela allure, Fleur was an absolute beauty; nevertheless, not on a level that Quinn would turn into a blubbering fool.

"It seems the Durmstrang delegation is here," said Quinn, turning the Beauxbatons delegation's eyes away from him towards the hall's entrance. They saw Dumbledore walk in with a tall and thin, white haired man with a goatee (that finished in a slight curl). Behind them were the Head of Houses, Hogwarts students, and around a dozen Durmstrang students dressed in some shaggy, matted fur cloaks.

"Madame Maxime. It has been a long time since our last meeting," smiled the man who led the Durmstrang students, but his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd.

"Karkaroff," nodded Maxime. She didn't return the smile. She didn't like the Durmstrang headmaster and had no desire to hide that behind a fake, polite smile.

"We should hurry and move inside. I'm sure all students are starving and would like to enjoy a hot meal," said Dumbledore, but from the looks of it, he was only speaking to the Hogwarts group.

McGonagall walked towards Quinn. She took him a step away from everyone else. "Mr. West, please coordinate the delegation's entrance. Allow them entry only when you hear the headmaster introduce them."

"Yes, Professor, I will make sure that everything will be seamless."

The Hogwarts Professor and the Hogwarts students moved to the Great Hall from a side entrance, leaving behind the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegation alone in a tense silence. Maxime and Karkaroff ignored each other and talked to their students about how they had to enter.

"If I may get everybody's attention," called out Quinn clear and loud, breaking their talks and bringing all pairs of eyes on him.

He retrieved what looked like a black earbud from his pocket and plugged it in his right ear. "Inside, Headmaster Dumbledore will be introducing your entry to the students. The moment he'll utter your name will be the moment you will have to enter-" he pointed at the massive gate. "-that massive gate to the Great Hall."

"I will be coordinating the operation, so when I give you the signal, please move in immediately and showcase the show of magic you have prepared," said Quinn. Both delegations wanted to make a strong impression on the Hogwarts students. Besides, magicals loved to show off, so they had prepared coordinated magic performances to accomplish that.

"Beauxbatons will enter first, followed by Durmstrang," notified Quinn and then looked at Beauxbatons. He told them to get ready.

After giving them instructions, Quinn tapped an earbud in his ear. Inside the Great Hall, Dumbledore was standing behind a podium as he addressed the students. If one looked closely on that podium's front side, one would see a small, square metallic chip that was stuck to the podium's front. After Quinn tapped his earbud, the chip shone in a short blue glow. Outside, the earbuds came to life, and the sound of Dumbledore's voice filled Quinn's ears.

He had been inspired by the Weasley's Extendable Ears to create his own listening device. The difference between his and Weasley's creation was that his design had been based on non-magical earbuds. His were wireless, meaning they weren't inhibited by the length of a string, and thus had a greater range.

Quinn had designed a transmission system that could transfer MagiFax documents across the globe, so creating a wireless sound receiver that could transfer voice across the Great Hall wasn't that much of a challenge. His only limit was the size, as it didn't allow him to etch many runes on a square chip and an earbud. The range was barely passable by Quinn's high standards.

"Excuse me."

Quinn turned while keeping an ear on what Dumbledore was speaking.

"Yes, Ms. Delacour, how may I help you?"

"Why does the headmistress know you?" she asked, and while she was interested in her question, actually, she wanted to have another go against Quinn.

'Ah, she's amped it up, huh.' Quinn could feel a wave of magic rush around him, but affected him as much as one did when pushing a mountain with their hands. That is, nothing at all.

"My sister studied at Beauxbatons, and she is also one of Beauxbatons' most prominent alumni recruiters. That's the reason why headmistress Maxime knows of me. You might know of her; she gives an annual talk at your school. Her name is Lia West," he answered with a polite smile.

Fleur, of course, recalled Lia West. All final year students who wanted to work or pursue an apprenticeship would have to know Lia West, as she was the most prominent recruiter/sponsor at Beauxbatons. Nonetheless, she wasn't satisfied after she noticed Quinn didn't show any reaction to her shooting allure.

"Why-" she began, but Quinn cut her off.

"Ms. Delacour, I would be happy to talk more, but I'm afraid it will be after the introductions. Our headmaster is about to introduce Beauxbatons; please join your group."

Fleur wanted to speak something, but Maxime called her back to the group.

Quinn walked to the door as the Beauxbatons group moved closer. He looked at them and then counted down from ten before opening the door. It was time for the Beauxbatons delegation to meet the rest of the school.

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Quinn West - MC - Busy performing his Prefect duties.

Filius Flitwick - Professor - Stressed like other Professors.

Olympe Maxime - Half-giantess - Knows of the West family.

Fleur Delacour - Veela - Interested in the boy.

Editor - AlanL - Shipping Fleur X Quinn hard. (ω)

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-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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What followed after was similar to the movie version; Beauxbatons delegation put on a magical performance. The only difference was that Beauxbatons was co-ed instead of an all-girls school.

"Durmstrang delegation, please be ready. The Beauxbatons delegation is almost over," notified Quinn to the gruff-looking boys and girls of Durmstrang and their posh-looking headmaster.

Karkaroff raised his hand, and immediately the Durmstrang students got into two lines, both lines a mix of boys and girls (each of them separated by the other gender).

'I wonder if this is how all of Durmstrang students act,' thought Quinn. He wondered whether Karkaroff could control a school whose students were only from pureblood families, and where pureblood dogma was a substantial part of their culture.

Quinn's eyes, then, found a well-built late-teen who was leading the left row. Viktor Krum was thin, had dark hair, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

The future champion looked surly, moody, and a bit grumpy. Krum didn't look very enthusiastic about the show of magic that was about to happen. It made Quinn think about Krum's personality from the original works: reserved and not fond of the attention he garnered due to his celebrity status.

If Quinn was honest, he was quite interested in the Durmstrang students. Out of the three schools, Durmstrang students were the ones who shared closer affinity with him. They practiced the Dark Arts just like him and the school didn't exclude those magics from their studies. To Quinn, in some way, Durmstrang was a more complete school of magic than either Hogwarts or Beauxbatons.

His thoughts wandered to the most well-known fact about the school. 'Durmstrang... the school where Gellert Grindlewald studied, huh.'

"Beauxbatons' performance is over," notified Quinn. He placed his hand on the door while listening through his earbud. Dumbledore was praising Beauxbatons' performance. He then moved onto the introduction of Durmstrang. Quinn once again started the countdown. At one, he pushed the door. Durmstrang's delegation entered the Great Hall, and immediately started the performance with a show of fire.

He stood in front of the Great hall door, and a peculiar thought about this entire ceremony entered his mind. "Three schools, three heads, technically three champions, three representatives... so 'three' should continue, shouldn't it?"

A scenario morphed into his mind as he continued to hear the faint ooh-aahs from the Hogwarts students through his earbud. When Durmstrang's performance ended and Dumbledore took the podium again, Quinn finished his plan and took his fake wand into his hand.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Inside the Great Hall, Dumbledore watched the students of two schools sitting together with his own students, and it brought a smile to his face thinking about the new experience they would have.

"I would like to thank Beauxbatons and Durmstrang for those exhilarating performances. They have been an absolute delight to experience. With great pleasure we welcome you to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable... The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. Now, I'd like to invite you to -"

Dumbledore was about to open the feast, but his words stopped when he himself and everybody in the Great Hall saw silk banners hanging from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: a gold lion, a bronze eagle, a black badger, and a silver serpent, shiver and shake. The animals started to shimmer with dazzling lights. The banners started to sway as if they were moved by a light wind.

The sudden change in the banners caused everyone to quiet down. Just before the hustle-bustle returned in the form of whispers and talks, the green banner with the silver serpent glowed brighter before a shimmering green serpent silhouette burst out from the banner. The serpent silhouette didn't have any defined features and was wholly made from solid shades of green. It slithered around in the air above everyone's heads. After circling the hall, the serpentine form emitted a deep hiss and the silhouette moved over the Slytherin table, its lower body curling with its head standing tall. The Slytherin students exclaimed and cheered when the serpent that stood above them majestically.

But their cheers subsided when the red banner with the gold lion similarly shimmered with a red lion silhouette walked out with its four legs stepping on air. The featureless lion face made up from solid reddish hues seemed to alert the green serpent. With its tail swinging gently, the lion stood above the Gryffindor table. Then the lion figure seemed to tense its body as a fierce roar shook the hall. The Gryffindor table exploded in cheers as their house animal roared against the green serpent. After the roar subsided, the lion stood tall with its head raised in pride.

Just when it looked like the lion and serpent were going to fight, the yellow banner of the black Hufflepuff badger on the banners glowed harshly and a yellow badger form stepped out with clawed paws and a short tail behind its back. The low pitch growl from the badger stopped the lion and serpent from jumping at each other. The Hufflepuff students, like the other two tables, also cheered for their mascot animal. The badger silhouette seemed to be pleased that the threat he posed had stopped the two other figures. The three figures now looked at each other in warning, and with slight movements, they stood equidistant to each other.

By now, everyone knew what would happen, and they eyed the Ravenclaw banner. The Ravenclaw students were looking at their flag in heightened excitement. Even the three animal forms had their eyes on the blue banner.

As everyone expected, the banner shimmered, and a blue eagle flew out of the bronze. Unlike the other three animals, the eagle was fast and, unlike them, small. The eagle flew high, above the charmed hovering candles of the Great Hall. As everyone watched, a shrill shriek pierced everyone to their core, and they noticed the eagle growing larger till it was the same size as the other three. What had started as a normal-sized eagle was now a majestic creature of prey. It flapped its wings and glided above the Ravenclaw table. It then shrieked for the Ravenclaw table to be backed by loud cheers from the students of the wittiest house.

The four creatures stood above their tables in a square formation, and just when everyone thought they were going to fight, the four animal figures started to shine brightly in green, red, yellow, and blue.

Their forms started to change.

The green serpent turned into a bald man in a long robe holding a long staff. The man was standing straight, and even though it had no features, he struck a cunning figure. The red lion with a short roar morphed into a man with a bear-belly and, as the human became complete, it took out a great sword, and with two hands on the hilt, the sword tip was slammed down to the "ground" with a loud ting. The badger stood up on its two hind feet and began the transformation into a figure of a homely woman with a round and plump figure dressed in a dress. She crossed her arms, and in one of her hands was a darker yellow outline of a wand. Then, with a fierce flap of its wings, the blue eagle turned into a tall woman dressed in flowing robes with wide sleeves. She had a book in her right hand; in the other, she twirled a dark blue wand.

Whereas the students and teachers alike had been dazed by what was happening, the four house ghosts, including the Bloody Baron, had all come to the Great Hall for this event. Of the four house ghosts, except the Gryffindor ghost, Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, three had had strong connections to the figures.

Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost, looked at the yellow figure. His eyes started tearing up with the memories he suddenly remembered of his childhood. A throaty whisper escaped him: "Oh, Helga..." He looked at the matronly lady, which couldn't be anyone other than his own teacher and mentor, Helga Hufflepuff.

Helena Ravenclaw, the Ravenclaw ghost, stilled as she stared at the blue outline. Emotions from her mortal life flooded her ghostly mind. The feelings she had become numbed to came back in full force, and the regret of not meeting her mother at her deathbed brought tears to her ghostly eyes. She wanted to go away, but her ethereal body didn't move. She could only continue to stare at the blue silhouette of Rowena Ravenclaw.

The Bloody Baron, the recluse Slytherin ghost, stared at the familiar figure of the man who had taught him the magical arts. The man who had tried to teach him the importance of restraint and not to let his violent, uncontrolled anger take the best of him. Nevertheless, he had ignored the man's teachings. If he had just listened to his mentor, the Baron wouldn't have become Bloody. The noble Baron, after a millennium, bowed to the figure of his mentor, Salazar Slytherin.

The final red figure, the fourth founder, Godric Gryffindor, raised his wand to the sky while tapping his sword down. In his life, he had had a versatile mindset as he chose to wield a sword as well as a wand, making him a rather dynamic man who deferred the dueling style to his opponent, were they magicals or non-magicals.

Following his lead, the other three founders raised their staff-slash-wands. Four beams of lights, green, red, yellow, and blue, zapped out into the center of the Great Hall. Then, everyone began to see a structure start to build itself, and before they knew it, a scaled-down Hogwarts castle was standing in the sky. The four figures turned into orbs of shining light and flew towards the castle for it to glow in a bright flash, almost blinding everyone, causing many to shield their eyes.

When it subsided, they saw a burning coat of arms with the Gryffindor lion, the Slytherin serpent, the Ravenclaw eagle, and the Hufflepuff badger, all circling the letter H. And below the coat arms, it could be seen the motto, "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," in an escroll beneath the shield.

"... Welcome To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." A voice reached everyone in the hall, and with it, the entire student body of Hogwarts got up from their seats with loud cheers, claps filled with the hall, and fists were pumped up. The applause was so loud that one would have heard it from outside. The applause startled various creatures, such as owls, roosters and pigs, among other animals that lived in Hogwarts grounds.

Among all the commotion and cheering, the Professors seated on the Head table tried to find the one who had cast the magic, while the few who weren't trying to calm the students down had their eyes attracted towards the hall entrance. There they saw a familiar figure decked in Hogwarts robes with blue trims, pocketing a wand into his clothes.

He seemed to notice their gaze as he looked up at them with his stone-gray eyes. A smile bloomed on his face as he bowed to them and, as if it was a performance ending, the burning coat of arms in the air above blew up with a sound and turned into golden glitter dust, raining down on everybody, but disappeared before anyone could touch them.

Hogwarts had been appropriately represented. And it had been represented with style.

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- (Scene Break) -

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"I'm back," said Quinn. He sat down on the seat saved for him by his friends.

"You're too late! Merlin's ball-" started Eddie but was cut-off when Marcus gave him a tight kick to the shin with a glare. Eddie secretly glanced at Luna and changed his words, "Merlin's beard! That was bloody marvelous!"

"I saw some of it, and you're right... that was sublime," chuckled Quinn. He didn't want to reveal the fact that it had been him behind the demonstration.

"The golden dust was pretty. I think it was pixie dust!" said Luna, her eyes shining in curiosity and excitement.

Quinn smiled and looked around. He heard the praises from his demonstration and felt the excitement in the air. The talk about the Triwizard had been left out; the entire hall was filled with gossip about his work. He looked at the Slytherin table and the Durmstrang students, who were excitedly looking at each other, a stark contrast from their previous looks. Quinn leaned back to take a glance ahead at the Ravenclaw table. He saw Beauxbatons students excitedly talking with each other. Some of them were even interacting with other Ravenclaw students.

"All right, international relations are secured," muttered Quinn before the feast started and with plates in front of them filled with food. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Quinn had ever seen at Hogwarts, including several that were foreign.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely thirty additional students there; perhaps it had been because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing deep blood red robes while Beauxbatons sported their blue robes.

Hagrid sidled into the hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. His hands were covered with bandages.

'The horses must have been vicious,' thought Quinn as Hagrid passed by.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the hall now. Everyone felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words before we bring in the casket —"

"The what?" Eddie muttered.

Marcus shrugged.

"— just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. First, though, let me introduce, for those who do not know him, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" —there was a smattering of polite applause— "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch.

Perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a cheery wave of his hand.

Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced.

Quinn, on the other hand, clapped more actively for Bartemius Crouch Senior. The man was a wartime leader who had legalised, for aurors, the use of unforgivable curses against the Death Eaters. Sure, he had helped his son escape Azkaban, but Quinn knew that positive things shouldn't be ignored in the face of the negative and vice-versa.

'Speaking of the son, what's Junior doing?' thought Quinn. He looked at the polyjuiced Barty Crouch Junior to see that Alastor Moody was looking at Dumbledore with his normal eye. His magical eye, though, was definitely locked on to his father.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months to arrange the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "they will be joining Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime and myself on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the hall, now approached Dumbledore while carrying a massive wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked ancient. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore. Filch placed the chest carefully 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. Each task 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."

Quinn shook his head sideways. To the current him, the tasks didn't seem so... dangerous.

The hall was filled with absolute silence. Nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, only three champions will compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be assessed on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks. The champion with the highest total after the third task will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector. The Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped it three times on the top of the casket. The lid creaked and it slowly opened. Dumbledore reached inside it and 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, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the hall.

"Those who wish to submit themselves as champions must write their name and school clearly in a slip of parchment and drop it into the Goblet," said Dumbledore. "All aspiring champions will have twenty-four hours to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, the Goblet shall select the names of the three 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 who wish to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "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."

Quinn barely... barely! held back a scoff (and laughter) at the mention of the Age Line. The Age Line hadn't prevented anything in the original book.

'If it was me, I would've kept the Goblet hidden and asked the headmasters to choose the candidates before taking the slips from them to put the names myself,' thought Quinn.

Of course, that was in hindsight. Quinn wasn't sure what he would've done if he hadn't been aware of the plan brewing up in the background.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon whomever wants to compete that this tournament is not to be treaded lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, they are obliged to end the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. You won't be able to withdraw once you have become a champion. Therefore, I implore you that you wholeheartedly prepare yourselves to the idea of competing before dropping your name into the Goblet. In any case, I think it is time for bed. Good night and happy dreams."

Quinn watched the wooden cup.

'I need to make some preparations,' thought Quinn. He looked at the Goblet once again with plans forming in his mind.

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Quinn West - MC - I am the greatest showman!

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: AlanL/Alan_Loo]

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The same night the Goblet of Fire was revealed to the students and the Triwizard Tournament was opened. A figure walked alone in the empty corridors of Hogwarts castle. The figure, dressed in a dark brown hooded attire, silently moved on the castle's ground floor in the dead of the night. They appeared in front of a great closed door. The figure stepped towards the door but stopped before he could enter and the raised hands could push the door open.

The figure stepped back and took something out from their pocket. After muttering a few words, the figure watched the object intently. Satisfied with their findings, the figure pocketed the article before raising both hands. A white light membrane spread outwards, soon covering the great door. Seeing that the magical membrane remained white, the figure pushed the great door open to enter the hall.

"He should really start using detection wards. He is the headmaster for magic's sake," sighed the figure. He pulled up the hood. It was Quinn.

Standing in the Great Hall, Quinn looked ahead. He walked forward. A hewn wooden goblet stood with dancing blue-white flames in it. It had been placed in the hall's center on the stool that usually bore the Sorting Hat. Surrounding the goblet, a thin golden line had been traced on the floor.

As Quinn stood just outside the boundary, he squatted down and nodded in appreciation, "Well, I have to give it to Dumbledore. This certainly will keep the students out." The Age Line was strong, very strong. But that wasn't exactly surprising, as the one who cast the Age Line was an accomplished magical user that even had the Death Stick as a focus.

"Now... let's see if what is said is true or not," smiled Quinn and took out a blank slip of paper. The paper slip levitated and flew into the area past the Age Line, but the moment it did, the paper burned into ashes.

"All right, levitating a slip into the Goblet is covered," nodded Quinn. Then, he continued to test out different things. Like conjuring a bird and, with a slip in its beak to drop it in Goblet, throwing a crumpled ball of paper without magic, and so on. But every time, the blank slip of paper would burn in a white-ish blue flare, turning into dust.

"Is this Dumbledore's spell work or the Goblet's innate magic?" pondered Quinn before coming to a circumstantial conclusion that as the paper burned in white-blue just like the Goblet's flames, the magic must be from the Goblet.

'I should hurry.' He took out a piece of light-red chalk from his pockets and started to draw along the Age Line, circling the Goblet till a dull-red circle enclosed the Age Line.

He knelt down and touched the chalk line with a finger. He closed his eyes and started to channel his magic into the chalk. Suddenly, the dull-red chalk started to glow up in a neon-red colour. Then, the circle's line transformed into thrumming runic characters that sent out slight undulations of magic.

And promptly... everything disappeared.

'Phew, this chalk sure is a powerful conduit,' thought Quinn. The red chalk was one of the runic conduit materials that he had researched and developed in his free time. The chalk stick wasn't something Quinn regularly used to draw runes with, as he preferred to either etch runes into wood/metal or inscribe them in parchment, cloth, or leather.

"Let's see whether this works," said Quinn. He took out one of his personal royal blue WMF-id cards. Then, he moved the card to see his signature in bronze ink. Below the signature written in bronze was Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He raised his right hand towards and the space near his hand distorted, and at the same time, the area surrounding the Goblet distorted. With every second, the distortion became stronger.

"Come on! This shouldn't be hard. Barty Jr. could do it; I should be able to do the same," groaned Quinn. He hadn't considered that Barty Jr. had had help from a master of magical arts, though.

Even though he didn't know, when Quinn surpassed eighty percent of his total output, his eyes turned from stone-grey to purple. Starting at forty percent percent output, Quinn's magic had already reached a point that couldn't be seen from a minor. It was so potent that the distortion had grown to form a path between his hand and the Goblet

The Goblet of Fire was now glowing so bright that Quinn was having trouble looking at it, and the entire hall was illuminated in a white-bluish light. The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. The next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air for a while before the fire subsided to their usual calm state. What changed, however, was the color; the flames remained red.

"... It worked, finally! That was one powerful confundus," sighed Quinn, and his purple eyes turned stone-gray once again.

The Goblet was in its active state; right now, it would accept every single name put out into it. The Goblet of Fire didn't have an age limit, which meant that if someone got past the Age Line, they would be able to put in their names, but Quinn didn't want to mess with the Age Line in case Dumbledore had done something special with it. So he targeted the Goblet itself by disabling all the innate security measures.

"Now, I can enter my name," said Quinn and flicked his signed WMF-id card towards the Goblet, fully intending to enter his name for the tournament. From the bottom of his heart, Quinn wanted his name to enter the Goblet so he could become a champion.

The card flew in a curved path towards the Goblet, but mid-flight, the royal blue card was attacked by a red zap of lightning, shredding and incinerating it simultaneously.

"Oh! It worked," said Quinn clapping his hand.

Quinn West had nothing to gain by entering the Triwizard tournament. He had the money, and even if he wanted personal fame unrelated to his family, Quinn had plenty of ways to publicize him.

The red chalk line was a warding charm bound to the chalk conduit, which was designed to eliminate any mention of his name and a few other names. While Quinn ensured that he carelessly didn't leave behind his signatures and name written by his own hand, a few things outside his secure personal collection contained them. So if someone got their hands on those select few samples and used them to enter his name, he needed to make sure they wouldn't work.

Quinn could enter himself in the Tri-wizard, but no one else was allowed.

"Intent is paramount," whispered Quinn.

The best way to check that his defense worked was if Quinn HIMSELF entered his name with the FULL INTENTION to participate in a WEAKENED/CONFUSED Goblet of Fire. Putting all those conditions together resulted in the optimal situation to enter a name.

"My work is done here," smiled Quinn, giving the Goblet of Fire a glance. Red flames flashed before turning back to their normal white-bluish state.

He pulled up his hood, took out Recon, which he had checked before entering the Great Hall, and observed his vicinity. The map showed no one was near him, but Quinn did see the Death Eater out in the corridors outside of the Professor's apartments when he said Barty Jr.'s name.

"Everybody is working hard, even the bad guys," chuckled Quinn before pulling on his hood and disappearing out of sight.

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- (Scene Break) -

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As the next day was Saturday, most students would generally have breakfast late. However, many students rose much earlier than they usually did on weekends. Quinn and the gang were always comparatively early to get because of Quinn and Eddie's early morning workouts; as such, Marcus and Luna had gained a habit to get up early so they could go have breakfast early. When they went down into the Great hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It was in the same place Quinn had seen it at night, and they stood outside of the Golden Age Line.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Eddie asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Marcus. "I would've if it had been me… wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the Goblet just gobbled you right back out again?"

Someone laughed behind them. Turning, all saw Fred and George Weasley, along with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, entering the hall, looking extremely excited.

Quinn watched, semi-interestingly, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words "Fred Weasley. Hogwarts." Fred Weasley walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second, everyone thought it had worked —George, Harry, and Ron certainly thought so, for they let out a yell of triumph and leaped after Fred— but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and all four were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

Quinn looked at Harry lying on the ground and thought in amusement, 'You don't need to try so hard, buddy. Someone already did your work for you.'

The Great hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming into the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Ms. Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Quinn glanced at the headmaster and thought, 'He appeared out of nowhere. . . Does he have a detection imbibed into the Age Line? Maybe something that would trigger with the Age Line.' He looked at the golden line and then shrugged in indifference. As long as his or his close friends' names weren't put in, he couldn't care less.

The four set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats fluttered around the enchanted ceiling while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Quinn, of course, for the occasion, had put on his pointe hat with a few Halloween-themed lapel pins just like he did every year. Luna had copied him and worn her hat a few self-made Halloween accessories. Marcus celebrated by eating pumpkin pie for breakfast, and Eddie enjoyed the occasion by scaring some first and second years with homebrewed horror stories.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," said Marcus. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Eddie, who had played Quidditch with the Ravenclaw team and heard about Warrington, looked away from the little ones and shook his head in disgust.

"We can't have him as a champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory,"" continued Eddie mockingly. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Oh, he will enter his name. There is no doubt about that, he told me himself, and I think he already did it," said Quinn informing.

People suddenly cheered in the Great hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. She walked over to Goblet and entered her name.

'Hmm, she turned seventeen last week, didn't she?' thought Quinn, a finger on his temple as he pulled out information from his mindscape.

The students from Beauxbatons camethrough the front doors from the entrance hall, among them, the Veela, Fleur Delacour. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.

Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"What do you reckon will happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Marcus muttered to Quinn as the Fleur dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"They will stay and study with sixth and seventh-year students," answered Quinn. "Can't have them wasting time here and not have them study."

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame

Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

Quinn closed his eyes for a second and thought as the Beauxbatons students exited. 'That completes the entry of all four champions. The preparations are clear, the stage is set. Time to open the game.'

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- (Scene Break) -

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"I finally have some free time, Mr. West," said McGonagall, turning to Quinn, who was sitting in front of her inside her office. "We have something to talk about, and you have a lot to answer about."

"Answers to all of your questions, Professor," replied Quinn with a smile.

"Let's talk about what you did in the Great hall yesterday," started McGonagall. "I'm sure that wasn't included in your duties."

"Indeed it wasn't, ma'am," said Quinn as he continued to smile. "But, if Beauxbatons and Durmstrang can show off their magic, Hogwarts should be able to get a chance to represent itself."

"... and you took that responsibility on yourself."

"That I did. Four mascots, four founders, four houses all coming together to create one school binding everyone under one banner. With the time I was given, I came up with a performance that represented Hogwarts as a whole. I think it was nice, don't you?" spoke Quinn, confident and pleased with his work.

"You could've talked with us before you put on that. We were trying to be welcoming, but then you spurred on something much larger than what Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had prepared," sighed McGonagall. "Olympe Maxime and Igor Karkaroff weren't happy with the sudden situation. You have to understand that the Triwizard tournament has been set up to improve international relations."

"Hmm, I can see that happening," nodded Quinn, understanding her point. "... but those two don't matter. What matters are the students. If we have a positive outlook towards each other, then two people won't matter in the long run. Durmstrang and Slytherin bonded together because of their similar ideology, and Ravenclaw students were able to interact with Beauxbatons students with my performance as the topic. It was the fact that our students didn't know about my performance that they felt a true surprise and were able to relate with the foreign students."

He shrugged and summarized his actions in simple words, "All I did was provide an ice-breaker of sorts. One simple step to set off a domino of positivity."

McGonagall seemed to be at a loss for words. She could see sense in Quinn's words. The students were the future, and if they were happy and positively reacting to each other, then the older generation indeed didn't matter in the long run.

"But I see what you're worried about, Professor," said Quinn, gaining her attention. "Professors can have a big impact on the students... Hmm, I guess we can do something to improve their impression of us."

McGonagall felt relieved about Quinn's willingness to work with her. But then she saw a wide smile bloom on Quinn's face, which plunged her heart into sudden caution and suspicion.

"Mr. West... I will be honest with you. I don't like that smile of yours."

Quinn laughed happily at her reaction. "No need to worry about it, Professor. Actually, you will be the happiest about the reason behind my smile."

He took out a folded sheet of paper from his clothes. After unfolding it and eliminating creases with magic, he slid the paper across the tables towards McGonagall. He sat back as the premier Quidditch nut picked the sheet and started to read it.

As McGonagall read it, her eyes widened in surprise. "Mr. - Mr. West… this! Are you sure... are you sure we can do this? Please tell me you have given it thought! It won't be easy... not in our school."

McGonagall was surprised, hopeful, and suspicious because of doubt about Quinn's plans. It didn't look like it would succeed, but if it did... then it would be huge.

"I have thought it through, Professor. I can make it happen," smirked Quinn. "All I require is complete control over the operation. The power and authority to do it my own way and don't have to answer to anyone. I will approach them on my own with no supervision."

"That!" McGonagall hesitated for a good while before nodding. "If you can get results, then I will grant you the permission... but if it fails then..."

"It won't fail, Professor." smiled Quinn, and a deal was set.

He was going to put up a show.

'With this, step one is complete,' thought Quinn grinning inside.

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Quinn West - MC - Planning and plotting.

Minerva McGonagall - Deputy headmistress - If this succeeds... This!

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, people didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as they would typically have. Like everyone else in the hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and then standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, Quinn too wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions. His reason wasn't the same as others. Quinn ninety-nine percent knew who would get chosen; he simply wanted to enjoy the commotion that would follow.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, seemed entirely uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the hall, walk along with the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness.

"Show off," muttered Quinn, but with a smile on his face as he enjoyed the dramatics.

The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . .

"Any second," Eddie whispered, a seat away from Quinn.

The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again, turning to its activation state. Sparks began to fly from it. The next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

As a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall, Quinn saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along with the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the Goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Quinn leaned back to see the Veela get up gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. She passed by him confidently towards Dumbledore.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Luna said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, Quinn thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads in their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next. . .

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip, Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to Their feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as, at last, the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the Goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Quinn's heartbeat quickened as automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out with an extended hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it.

'Come on, old man. . . spit it out,' thought Quinn, staring intently at Dumbledore.

There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands. Everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out — "Harry Potter."

Quinn clenched his fist, and inside his head, he did an imaginary fist pump of celebration.

'Hell yeah! Not me sucka!' The paranoia of Quinn West finally calmed down.

After Quinn's short celebration, he turned his attention back to his surroundings. There was no applause. As though of angry bees, a buzzing was starting to fill the hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry Potter as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

While Harry had tried to put his name into the Goblet with the Weasley twins and Ron, he had failed. Even if he had succeeded in getting his name, Harry had never thought he would get selected. But now, Dumbledore was calling out his name. . . to see this took him by shock was an understatement.

Quinn removed his fourth champion and turned his sight to more interesting people in the hall. Up at the Head table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

Still watching from his table, Quinn raised an eyebrow as he observed them before another Professor caught his eye. Lily Potter sat on her chair, but the mother of two looked shell-shocked, her face portraying her current emotions clear and transparently.

'Now I feel bad for her,' thought Quinn, and seeing that his eyes were on a Potter, he decided to shift his sight to the third Potter and watched the girl twin with her hand on her twin's shoulder. Ivy Potter looked as if she was rapidly asking questions to Harry. Her twin, though, sat still on his seat, not answering her question.

Finally, Quinn looked at the initiator of this situation and watched the figure of Barty Crouch Jr. in the form of Alastor Moody with a hidden gaze. For once, Moody's eyes were still, and if one could ignore the strap holding the magical artificial eye, Moody's eye pair looked like they were normal.

At the top table, Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The Boy-Who-Lived, with hundreds of eyes on him, took a long walk towards the Head table. The buzzing grew louder and louder as he reached the Head table before following Dumbledore's instruction to exit the Great hall to the antechamber.

"Now that's an eventful Halloween," nodded Quinn, but his voice drowned way in the voice of the entire Great hall's chatter and talk.

Quinn took out a chocolate cube from his pocket. The dice-sized cube cooled down with a faint gush of ice magic, and as he popped the cold chocolate into his mouth, Quinn only had one thought.

'Halloween sure isn't good for Potters.'

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- (Scene Break) -

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The next day, while the castle was still fresh with the last day's events, Quinn could be found near the Forbidden Forest dressed in Noir transformative gear. He wasn't interested in listening to everyone talk about the fourth champion and wanted to get some work done.

Firenze had guided him on his first visit, but now Quinn had navigated his own way to the darkness within the Forbidden Forest. Standing at the edge of darkness, Quinn looked into the darkness with his hood still up.

"This is going to be tough," his voice distorted, "there are too many of them inside."

The last time Quinn had gone in, he was attacked by a clutter of Acromantula. They had tried to tear him apart and feast on him with ferocious intensity as Quinn had to fend off Arcumantulas trying to get to him even if it meant they would get burned.

"A few minutes and I nearly burned through fifty percent of my capacity," spat Quinn. The shield spell, which burned when touch. The spikes from Quinn's patent ice magic. And the orange spell which had cleared a path in front of him. The three spells had burned through a lot of magic.

"Well, most of it was used by the shield," said Quinn clicking his tongue. "I can't blow the place up. . ." If he did that, the residents - living inside the darkness or not - wouldn't appreciate their home being torn apart by explosions.

"I can't be on defense; putting up the shield isn't doing me any favors."

If he wanted to get past the Acromantulas, Quinn needed to preserve the magic and not spend his entire capacity on them, leaving him vulnerable to other danger.

"For that, I need my sight back."

Unlike inside water, Quinn didn't know how to use a magical ripple sonar radar to navigate without sight. So, Quinn needed to find another way to see, and in the time between this visit and the first, Quinn had found a way to get his sight back inside the darkness.

He placed his palms over his hands, and magic entered his eyes through his palms.

The human eye lets light in through a hole called the pupil. A lens inside the eye focused on the image, and the retina detected that image. The retina contained two structures called rods and cones that detected light and sent the image to the brain.

Rods were great at capturing very dim light and movement. However, they do not detect colors. Humans could see colors so vividly because of cones, which can only function with plenty of light. They had four times the number of rods than we have cones.

This ratio meant that humans could see pretty well during the day, and though they have more rods than cones overall, humans had more cones than many animals. They could see many kinds of colors during the day, and we still see reasonably well in the dark. However, other animals with more rods and fewer cones than humans could see even better in the dark, even if their color vision wasn't as good during the day.

Right now, Quinn's magic was altering the structure of his eyes. Inside his eyes, rods increased in quantity while cones sinking in numbers.

Cats, owls, raccoons, red foxes, bullfrogs. . . Quinn had ordered eyes of various nocturnal animals with a ratio of rods and cones, which allowed night vision. Going through them, he created an eye structure that would let him see in the dark.

"Ugh, I don't like doing this one," said Quinn, and when he removed his hands, Quinn's iris had widened, and inside, the pupils were so large that the stone grey was nothing but a thin ring on the outside.

As he looked around, Quinn found that the dim forest was brighter, as if he was standing under clear sunlight. He looked ahead, and the darkness had turned into a late evening light.

"Yeah, I can work with that," he smiled, but it wasn't at his success. The smile was at the shining dots he could see inside. Numerous eight-eyed sets stared at him from just within the darkness. Watching. . . observing if Quinn would enter their territory.

"Let's get started." With the hood on, he stepped inside the darkness, and pandemonium ensued.

The second the black-clad Quinn entered the darkness, two comparatively small Acromantula dove down from the tree canopy and jumped on Quinn, their pincers clacking in excitement.

Quinn's transfigured eyes briefly glanced up and grinned, "I can see you~."

The two spiders that had jumped on their target felt a force against their bodies. Like taking a giant sledgehammer straight to the body, they were blown away before the two could touch the ground.

With a serviceable sight providing him with visuals, Quinn could finally focus on individual targets. Something he couldn't previously as his vision was short and limited. Plus, Acromantula held venom in their pincers, a single cut, and Quinn would be in deep trouble.

Not even a second had passed since Quinn had launched two Banishing charms; he twitched when he felt something at his back. A transparent shield formed behind his back just before an Acromantula slammed against it, sending silvery waves along with the shield. With a turn on his neck, Quinn gave a brief glance for the offending Acromantula to feel a heavy force from above and found himself being slammed into the dirt.

"You need to do better if you want to eat me," said Quinn as his eyes moved left to the right, looking at the Acromantulas creeping towards him on their clacking pincers.

The provocation seemed to work as one of the biggest, baddest Acromantula jumped Quinn with a loud shriek. Quinn raised his arm for a shield to appear, and the Acromantula slammed against the shield. He used the shield to push the massive, hairy spider down, thrusting the spider into the ground before casting a point-blank Explosion charm to rip three out of eight legs apart.

A painful screech filled the darkness, and for a split second, the spiders backed away, but the agony from their kind made their blood boil and simultaneously jumped out on Quinn.

From above, one could see a black figure standing in the center with gigantic spiders throwing themselves at him. Shields would appear to stop the spiders who go too close while Quinn rammed their siblings away with magic.

With every second, the scene started to get violent. What had begun as harmless, yet a little tough, spell push from Banishing spell was now a bloody scene as Quinn was breaking their pincers to make sure they won't return any any time soon.

'Not so proactive after losing three legs, aren't you,' thought Quinn. He could see that the clutter was lightening up, bringing a smile to his face.

But then there was sudden reversal as Quinn saw something white from the corner of his eyes. He had no time to react as something thick and gooey attached itself on Quinn's elbow.

His eyes widened when he saw what it was, "Spider web!"

The exclamation was met with a pull as Quinn's body was pulled to the right towards an Acromantula shrieking in glee, but before Quinn's feet could leave the ground, another spider web stuck to his body and pulled him to the left.

The Acromantulas weren't coordinating and mainly moving on their own, which helped Quinn as he felt the two opposite forces pull him in opposite directions. The force lifted him up from the ground, but he stayed in a single spot, giving Quinn enough time to release a sharp cold wave into the thick, sticky, yet steel-like webs and froze them till they were rigid.

He cast Blasting curses on the frozen bindings for them to shatter into ice shards.

"Yes!" he celebrated, but then his pupils shrunk as he felt a stinky smell waft across his nose; he moved his eyes up to see an open mouth with fangs inside about to bite his head off. A shiver went through his body as he found himself in a life-death moment.

Time seemed to slow down as Quinn continued to stare at the Acromantula's hairy feature, and strangely, he could see joy inside the leader. His magic moved on instinct, and a deep, murky dark maroon orb formed in front of Quim before it stretched out and zapped straight into the mouth.

The magic entered the body through the body, and the Acromantula started to feel quizzy as its body heat raised. It went from comfortable warmth to burning heat in a matter of spans seconds. It began to shriek and dropped right in front of Quinn, writhing in pain.

Quinn shot two spells, each on the two different sides towards his almost-captures. There were blasts, and shrieks were intense and short build as a second spell hit them. He hadn't removed his eyes from the Acromantual who was writhing on the floor.

The spell was a dark curse, one that would corrode the target user. Right now, the spider was feeling everything burn as the curse worked its charm.

Seeing the Acromantula so close, Quinn raised his hand, and a murky yellow spell light appeared over his hand. He was about to take out all of the Acromantua's legs in one clean sweep, essentially destroying the spider's life; a yell filled the surroundings.

"Halt!"

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[

A/N: Hello peeps, FictionOnlyReader this side.

This Author's Note is to inform you that till the end of this month (which means 4 days), the release/update schedule is going to be pretty janky/erractic. My mid-terms are upon me and I haven't studied jack. I need to pull all-nights (hate 'em) to make sure I don't fail.

As such, I might not be able to post regularly.

But from 1st of September, I'll be back as my mid-terms will be over.

This ends the PSA, you can proceed to the short post-chapter credit section

]

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Quinn West - MC - Spiders vs Me; let's dance.

FictionOnlyReader - Author who makes lots of grammer mistakes - AlanL (Mighty editor) isn't feeling well, please send best wishes.

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[The chapter is edited by Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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"Wait! Stop!"

A clutter of Acromantulas surrounding Quinn were attacking him with the sole desire to feast on his flesh. They were trying hard to get a taste of human flesh and blood, but stopped when they heard a word from a voice. With piercing cackles and shrieks, they protested against getting held back, but a louder, more piercing, mighty shrill screech made them cower and bend their eight legs in submission.

The human, on the other hand, exhaled a deep breath, releasing a small puff of icy mist into the air, and with it, dozens of ice spears manifested into the dark surrounding, gleaming in the spiders' eight-set eyes.

'That was, ugh,' thought Quinn, refraining his hands to go to his ears, 'so damn harsh!' He moved towards the source of the shrill to see a bigger, meaner, bulkier Acromantula slowly creeping towards him as the crowd of regular Acromantula parted way for the eight-legged elephant-sized monstrosity.

'Wait, wait, wait...' thought Quinn with a mental chuckle of disbelief, 'Isn't this one too big?' The ice spikes around him rotated to face the new arrival, but in the face of the arachnid, they were akin to thin ice picks.

"Human..." There was grey in the black of his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincered head were milky white. It was blind.

"... You must be the one who is called Aragog," said Quinn, raising his chin to peer at the leader of the Acromantula colony composed of all of his sons and daughters.

"That I am," he said, clicking his pincers rapidly. "Why have you entered my home, human?" He looked around, and with his eight white eyes, he made a sidelong glance around his children. "... Not only that, but you dare to harm my children. Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you on the spot."

Aragog could sense that some of his children were gravely injured; a few of those not in any condition to live much longer, but he showed no grief for them. This was the Forbidden Forest: the strong lived, and the weak perished.

"I want to venture inside to get to the cursed vault," said Quinn, his voice amplified and distorted, ringing inside a silent forest.

"So? Why should I care about it?"

"Do I look like I care about what you think? I don't give a shit about what you and your children think or want."

The entire cluster of spiders stepped closer to Quinn, their pincers clicking rapidly and continuously, filling the forest with a sickening noise capable of bringing shivers down the spine of most people.

"Don't test your luck, human. I can make your death… not so swift," spoke Aragog, the fangs inside his mouth gleaming as he calmly snarled.

"Oh, yeah?" scoffed Quinn, taking the provocation as a chance to pump magic into his spikes, enlarging them as ice creaked and cracked while manifesting. "Bring it on; let's see who comes out alive. I like that hide of yours; maybe I will strip it off your carcass."

The colossal arachnid didn't make any moves or spoke anything in reply. The eight blind eyes focused on the vague figure of Quinn. His pincers were slowly opening and closing. Before long, Aragog clicked his pincers once for a fast and crisp noise to shatter the pregnant silence.

"Hmph, cursed vault you say..." Aragog scoffed with derision. "Humans have always been dull-brained. Go. I am looking forward to the day you die and rot inside."

Aragog screeched and clicked his pincers, and it seemed to be an order to his children because the Acromantula retreated away from Quinn, shooting webs above to the trees, climbing up to disappear in the dark forage of forest. Leaving Aragog and Quinn on the ground as they kept watch upon the two.

"Beware, human, if you come out injured. Neither me nor my children like you. Should we get a scent of your blood wafting around, we will drag you to our nest," there was a gleeful tenor in his voice as he too made webs up to climb up the forage, "I look forward to the day when I get to taste your flesh and blood... I hope the day comes soon."

Aragog, the Acromantula, disappeared and left before Quinn could say anything.

"Yeah, run, you better run, big freak," grumbled Quinn. He waved his hand and the ice spikes puffed in a cold mist.

He moved his gaze towards the fallen Acromantulas, which had gotten too injured in the fight for them to move. They were heavily wounded and, as such, were now thrown out of the colony.

"The law of the jungle, huh," muttered Quinn moving towards the fallen. Noticing Quinn approaching, the Acromantula's eight eyes shifted towards him.

"Human..." said the spider with four twisted legs.

Quinn stared down at the spider, which he had ended up injuring. He matched eyes with the arachnid and nodded,

"Yeah, I understand..."

"... Thank you."

Quinn extended his hand towards the spider as he looked up above at the leaves, ignoring the Acromantula eyes peering down at him. He looked past them and breathed out.

Crack…*

Closing his eyes, Quinn heard the silence of the forest before looking down. Laid near his feet was the lifeless body of the spider. The eight-set of dull, wholly black eyes with no whites were looking as if staring at him.

He turned his head to the left to see the inner depth of the place he had come to call the Underworld. He realised there were more and more blackened trees, greyish ground, and dull grass. And perhaps it was because of his transfigured eyes, but Quinn felt that the Underworld was more lifeless than the last time. To his right was the path that led him to the outside; he could see the brightness inviting him to move towards it in the distance. The trail led back to the brighter portion of the Forbidden Fore with plenty of lights to light up the surroundings.

He sighed. The mood to go left deeper into the Underworld had disappeared. Right now, he wanted to go back to the castle and relax. But before that, he had work to do. He turned away from the spider body and walked a few steps before..

Crack*... *Crack*... *Crack*...

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- (Scene Break) -

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Inside a classroom in the Transfiguration wing of the castle stood four people, looking at each other apprehensively. From the looks of it, they weren't happy to be in the same room. The four were dressed in similar black robes and grey uniforms beneath. The only difference was the colour of the trims present on the robes and the personalization in the uniform; Red and Gold, Blue and Bronze, Yellow and Black, Green and Silver.

"Why in the world are we called here?" asked the person dressed in Green and Silver. He was known to the students for his ever-present mocking smirk, but currently, his face was locked in an uncomfortable expression as he stared at the other three.

"I have no idea," said the girl dressed in Red and Gold, shaking her head. She had been nervous coming here, but when the girl saw her company, she calmed down.

"I have no idea, but we can pretty much assume what this is about," shrugged the boy in Blue and Bronze. Slight intelligence flashed in his eyes as he observed the pattern he saw in the people with him.

"Well, he is the one who called us. I'm sure he has something important to say," spoke the boy dressed in yellow and black. If he had been in another group, his lovely smile would have charmed others, but the other three just wanted to bash his face in just so that they wouldn't need to see it.

Before it opened, there was a knock on the door for another person dressed in Blue and Bronze to enter the room. He gazed at them, and a smile bloomed on his face as if joyous to see them all.

"Pucey, Johnson, Davies, and Diggory," said the black-haired boy in a pleased tone, "I'm glad you've accepted my invitation. I was worried that you might be busy."

The four watched as their inviter, Quinn West, fifth-year Ravenclaw, stood by the door, looking at them. He turned his head outside the room and said, "Everyone is here; you can enter."

The four watched with confusion and curiosity, wondering who Quinn was talking to. Two people enter the room; one blond posh-looking boy and a flamboyant brunette girl.

Quinn took out his fake wand and waved it once, for seven chairs to be pulled out from the room's corner. The seven chairs circularly arranged themselves in the center of the room. He nonchalantly pulled a chair and sat down, making himself comfortable.

"Sit down. We have a lot to discuss," he said, causing others to look at him as he acted like this classroom was his home.

"West, why did you call me here? I'm busy," grumbled Adrian Pucey, sixth-year Slytherin. He looked at the other Hogwarts student and sneered, "and you invited these plebs to come here."

"Who do you think you're calling a pleb, snake," sneered Roger Davies, sixth-year Ravenclaw, looking defiantly at Pucey as if ready to fight.

"You both should calm down," sighed Quinn, pointing to the two who came with him, "we have guests."

Angelina Johnson looked at the two unfamiliar people and asked, "You are from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, right?"

"Yes," said the flamboyant girl in heavily accented English, dressed casually with her legs crossed as she leaned into the back of her chair, "Kari Haugen, from Durmstrang. I'm seventeen years old."

The posh-looking blonde boy seeing Kari introducing herself, also decided to introduce himself, "Good evening, my name is Albert Acy, seventh-year, Beauxbatons, at your service."

"I'm guessing that all of you are interested in the reason why you were called here," said Quinn addressing their primary source of curiosity about this gathering.

"Given that all of us here are the captains for the house Quidditch teams. I can safely assume that it's about Quidditch," offered Cedric as he looked at the people present in the room.

"Nothing less expected from the champion," said Quinn, lightly clapping, "Yes, you're correct. It's related to Quidditch." He pointed at the two foreign students and continued, "These two are also Quidditch players from their respective schools... They are both captains. They will be my contact with their schools."

"Not Krum?" asked Roger Davies as he glanced at Kari.

Kari narrowed her eyes in response. "Yes, me and not Krum. Krum went pro. He has nothing to do with Durmstrang Quidditch anymore. Neither the school nor his pro-club team wants him to play at Dumrstrang."

Davies had the decency to look embarrassed after being indirectly berated.

"You've heard her," said Quinn, "The reason I have called you here is that I've been handed to manage the Quidditch season at Hogwarts this year —"

"West, you do know that Quidditch was canceled this year for the tournament, right?" said Angelina. She glanced towards Cedric at the mention of the tournament.

"Why are you all looking at me?! It's not my fault," protested Cedric when everyone, not just Angelina, gave him the same look.

Quinn chuckled at the scene before answering, "Ms. Johnson, the Quidditch house tournament might have been canceled, but that doesn't mean that we can't enjoy Quidditch this year. I've decided to continue with the theme of improving international relations and start a Quidditch tournament involving students from all three schools."

"What do you mean?" asked Adrian, confused.

"It will be a Quidditch tournament with the same rules, no difference there. Unlike our house tournaments that have only four teams, I have decided that there will be ten teams competing for the top spot, sounds good?" explained Quinn while observing how the others were taking it.

After everyone nodded, Quinn continued, "While this tournament is open to everyone, the teams will be decided by the ten team captains. They will be in charge of who they want to take in their teams. As there are ten teams, that means that seventy students will be participating in the Quidditch tournament."

The four Hogwarts captains, along with Kari and Albert, looked interested and excited about the idea. They had thought that they would be missing Quidditch this year, but from what Quinn was saying, it was looking like they would not only be playing Quidditch, but it would be a unique experience from their usual annual tournaments.

"Out of the ten team captains, six of them will be from Hogwarts, two of them will be from Beauxbatons, and the last two will be from Durmstrang," said Quinn and cut off Albert before he could speak, "Given the number of students at Hogwarts, this is fair... Also, I'm not finished. There are some conditions to build a team."

"What conditions?"

"First, let's talk about the Hogwarts teams. Let's say the captain is from Ravenclaw. Excluding them, there will be six more members. Out of those six members, only two members can be from Ravenclaw. As such, only 3 students can be from the same house as the captain."

"What?!" exclaimed Adrian, "You can't do that!"

Even the other Hogwarts house team captains looked uncomfortable with Quinn's conditions.

"I can do that and all other kinds of things. I have complete control over this tournament. To be blunt, I don't answer to any of the faculty members. If I wanted the snitch to be ten points instead of one-fifty, then that would be the official rules," said Quinn, leaving the others stunned.

"Let's continue," he said. "Out of the remaining four members, one each needs to be from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. That means two of the members from every team won't be from Hogwarts, allowing Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to have plenty of representation. Finally, the last two members can be chosen from other Hogwarts houses or from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. It's up to the team who they want."

Quinn turned to Kari and Albert and gave them their team building conditions, "Let' say if the captain is Kari. Then other than her, she can only recruit one other Dumrstrang member in her team. One of the team members must be from Beauxbatons, while the remaining four will be from Hogwarts. The condition on Hogwarts members is that out of those four members, only two can be from the same house."

His eyes glanced at every member of the team. He enjoyed their stunned expression.

"I know the first thing that popped in all your minds when I spoke about teams. All of you thought about entering your usual squads," said Quinn. "Four out of ten teams would've ended up being our house teams while at least two more would've been solely from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. I'm willing to bet a lot of money that the rest of the four would've gone the same way... But where's the fun in that? Let's try out something different while we have the chance."

"I have a few questions," spoke Cedric, a slight crease between his brows.

"Of course."

"I am assuming that we all are going to be captains," asked Cedric, pointing to the six Quidditch captains.

"Yes, all of you will get a team," answered Quinn, and seeing that it was Cedric who asked the question, Quinn notified him, "If you don't wish to participate, given that you're a champion, you can hand over your spot to another Hufflepuff."

Cedric nodded. The tasks hadn't been revealed; as such, Cedric didn't know if he would need to back out of the Quidditch tournament.

"My question is about the other two Hogwarts teams. With us four," said Cedric point at the house team captains, "every house gets one team each, but what about the other two? Which two houses get two teams?"

The house loyalty was strong in Hogwarts, so Quinn had expected the question, "It will be a lucky draw. I will have someone neutral pull the houses out."

"What about us?" asked Albert. "Who gets the second team from our schools?"

"Durmstrang's second team will go to Krum. Of course, he can opt-out." He then turned to Albert and asked, "Does Ms. Delacour play Quidditch?"

Albert shook his head in reply.

"I see. Please give me a recommendation," asked Quinn. He then looked at the captains and smiled, "Start recruiting people, captains. This is going to be different from your usual seasons. There's no continuity. You will be building everything from scratch."

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Quinn West - MC - Challenger, organizer.

Aragog - Acromantula - Power is the law. (exception = Hagrid)

FictionOnlyReader - I'm back! - Writing is fun. So much Fun!

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The link is in the synopsis!

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn stood inside the Room of Requirements dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. The room had transformed according to his wishes and was now a simple, spacious room with no furniture. The only thing that was present was a heavy bag that hung from a stand.

He looked down on the floor. He lightly skipped on his feet. The floor had a little spring. He had given it a rubber surface.

"Softening charm- check," said Quinn, continuing to jump on his feet.

"The trifecta," said Quinn to himself. "The mind: the physical entity that deals with thinking, reasoning, our ability to make choices, and partially deals with emotions, beliefs, and attitude."

While continuing to jump, he closed his eyes and dove into his mindscape. He then saw Hogwarts on one side and the West manor on the other side. He looked up in his mental image, at the simulated blue sky, and looked beyond to see a faint hexagonal layer barely visible. Quinn raised his hand and waved it in front of him to feel the invisible radioactive matter omnipresent inside his mindscape.

"Soul: the immaterial part of a being, the part considered to be its essence. Deeply connected to the magical core, along with emotions, self, consciousness, and connectedness."

Quinn placed his hand on his chest. He couldn't feel his soul. It was out of his reach, with no way to gain access to it. His brow twitched when his memories sent him back to his third year. The year in which he had been under the influence of the Sin curse. The curse had affected his soul and then it had gained control over his emotions, affecting his personality and attitude. To this day, Quinn hadn't touched anything related to the soul.

"Body: the physical entity which houses both the mind and the soul. It comprises eleven systems that come together to form one complete system. A complex machine that is designed to support life by aligning the mind and soul to create a balance. It's the most fragile one of the three... one snap and the body can become useless, and lead to its death."

He stopped jumping and took a standard Muay Thai fighting stance. Exhaling a heavy breath, and started shadow boxing: punches, kicks, elbow strikes, knee blows. He went through a continuous series that felt comfortable to him.

A minute, two minutes, five minutes... ten minutes and then some more time passed. The continuous movements had Quinn sweating all over. His breathing was laboured, but Quinn didn't stop; he kept going. When he felt that he couldn't keep up, he would switch to an easier series, but he didn't stop.

"An average person can only access 40-50% of their muscular mass when performing any physical task or exertion," he said. He chuckled. "What terrible efficiency, it makes one wonder about the limitations... But when doing continuous exercise with an increasing load, the body starts to warm up, muscles begin to open up, and a normal person can climb up to access 60% of their physical capabilities."

Quinn took in a deep breath and suddenly stepped forward to get in reach of the brown, heavy bag. He upped his speed and power and started to attack the bag with rigour combined with practiced skill.

"Top p-professional athletes with merciless, relentless, and continuous training can gain access to 80% of their muscular mass. Combining that 80% with the fact that their bodies have transcended the average by several degrees, they reach a level of not being superhuman, but they can definitely be called super humans. But not all professional athletes can reach that level; genetics with excellent physical properties is what allows the select few to reach that level."

Quinn's body began shaking as the continuous exertion was affecting his body, but he continued to push himself despite that.

"The body doesn't allow us to go beyond the limit in the fear that the person would hurt himself... but some conditions allow us to break those limits. Extreme emotions can cause a person to access the ending 20% by pumping excessively, potentially dangerous amounts of adrenaline into their bodies."

He smiled as his elbow smashed into the leather of the bag.

"B-But... that is for normal people. People without access to the supernatural force that reside in rare individuals."

Quinn pulled his fist back and regained the standard stance. With a swift movement, Quinn twisted his body to generate force that would travel from his legs and would be exerted through his fist via punch into the heavy bed.

Once again, Quinn regained a standard stance, but now, he had a grin on his face. His body moved as if to punch just like the last time; but this time, Quinn used his feet to generate force, which added more physical power to his punch. Quinn's grin widened when he felt force travel up his body. He snapped his arm forward to punch the heavy bag.

Fwip!

With the speed of a whip, Quinn's arm punched forward. Quinn watched as his fist got buried into the leather with a force that even surprised him, as the stand holding the bag got knocked over.

With heavy, laboured breathing, a rising and lowering chest, Quinn stared at the fallen bag. Slowly, a smile replaced his surprised face. Quinn raised his hand to look at his fists.

"Magic... physical, body magic," he mutters. Quinn flexed his hands and observed his first use of the new body magic. "I was able to get up to 70% of my best while being dead tired... I guess that is to be expected."

Quinn had always been active since his pre-teen days, but after his third year, Quinn had been working out twice a day. An outdoor workout in the morning and an entire Muay Thai session inside the Room of Requirements in the evening. That had not only made him fit but also had built up some skill when he boxed. Reaching 70% at an activity that he was familiar with was a satisfactory result.

"Next is 80%... the regular limit of the human limit," smiled Quinn, aiming to accomplish something that would take years of constant training within a short time, "After that, I will go beyond."

The magic of the body was just getting started.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Tick, tick, tick. The wall clock in the A.I.D. office ticked away, as Quinn sat at his desk, writing away on a sheet of paper. From the year Quinn had gotten his first set of magic-related books from Lia, he had compiled his own collection of records on every branch and topic of magic he ever learned. Throughout the years, his ever-growing library continued to get more books; in fact, he mainly joined Hogwarts to gain access to the school library along with the collections of books inside Room of Requirements. With those resources at his fingertips, Quinn's magic records grew both in quantity and quality.

Compiling improved potion recipes, examining myriads of materials for transfiguration, researching thousands of herbs for their magical properties, extensively studying the essence and theory behind every spell or charm, observing planets and luminaries movements over the years, and so on... Quinn had tried to study everything in detail and genuinely understand why magic performed as it did.

There was a section filled with Quinn's research material in his personal library, a treasure trove that even the most learned magicals would salivate at because of its cross-cultured nature. No one except Quinn knew the extent of the knowledge he had amassed.

Though not all of it was unknown to the outside world. Over the years, some of it had been released to the outside world. The A.I.D. notes which optimized the Hogwarts material to the limit were available to every student of the magical school. His A.I.D. personal collection, which stood a level above the notes, was primarily used by Luna Lovegood for her guided and accelerated studies.

Quinn West's compendium of herbs and magical creatures in the hands of Elliot was updated every year when he returned home, which allowed the potion enthusiast to continue learning whenever he had the time. His book of charms and spells for daily use had become one of Ms. Rosey's favorite reads because of the sheer brutal practical nature of the included charms. While his personal tips on occlumency were nowhere near Alan D. Baddeley's masterpiece of guides, George still cherished the writings that Quinn sent him from time to time. Lia's little diary, which updated itself with tidbits from various branches of magic, allowed her to hold conversations with people from many walks of magic, earning her the reputation of being a well-versed, knowledgeable person all over the globe.

Currently, he was jotting down one of the many theories of Arithmancy that Quinn had recently researched upon. As he penned the last sentence of the document, Quinn heard a familiar chime. Quinn looked up to see a face that surprised him. The person in front of him wasn't one he expected to visit his office.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, identifying his guest, "what a surprise for you to visit my office. How may I help you?"

Draco Malfoy was a slender boy with sleek white-blond hair, cold grey eyes, a pale complexion, and rather sharp, pointed, aristocratic features. The fourth-year Slytherin, like many others, gazed at his office in wonderment and curiosity. It was only after the Malfoy heir was satisfied with his observations that he looked at Quinn.

Stone-grey eyes met Cold-grey ones, as Quinn smiled at his junior. "Please, sit, Mr. Malfoy. I must say I wasn't expecting you to visit me anytime soon. Seeing you here makes me as curious, as it makes me happy."

Draco sat down on the chair and stared at Quinn for a while. The Malfoy heir had been educated about the West family. As such, before talking, Draco was cautious about his words.

"I have something I want to commission," started Draco, getting to the point. Draco reckoned that if he got down to brass tacks, the chances of offending Quinn would be the lowest.

"A commission, you say," said Quinn. He set aside his documents as someone like Draco deserved his full attention. "Go ahead. What do you want me to make for you?" From time to time, Quinn would take in some jobs of creating trivial things for students.

Draco took out a parchment from his robes and handed them to Quinn, who opened it to look at neat and blocky handwriting.

'Ah,' sighed Quinn internally as he read the contents.

On the parchment, Draco had written two simple quotes:

The first,

「Support CEDRIC DIGGORY - The REAL Hogwarts Champion 」

The second,

「POTTER STINKS」

Below those quotes was a surprisingly neat drawing of the upper part of a Hogwarts robe, and a badge on the lapel area was a badge that read 'Potter Stinks'.

"A badge that switches between these two quotes, huh," sighed Quinn as he placed the parchment on the desk.

"Er, yeah," replied Draco, surprised that Quinn had understood without the need of an explanation.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I have to refuse this job."

"Huh, why?!" said Draco exclaiming at the direct refusal. "Is it because of Potter? You don't want to offend the golden boy. Are you afraid of his mudblood mother?" Draco looked at Quinn with a look of disgust.

Quinn stared at his client and didn't take any offense on comment or the derogatory term. Instead, he looked at Draco as if he was a child throwing a tantrum. He waited for a moment before speaking.

"It isn't that I don't want to offend Harry Potter or Professor Potter. Well, I would prefer it if I don't offend anyone, but that's not the reason I'm refusing the job."

"Then why?" asked Draco, feeling suspicious.

"Mr. Malfoy... the aim behind the Triwizard tournament is to promote international relations and unfortunately, Mr. Potter is a Hogwarts champion," he leaned forward, "What do you think would happen when the foreign delegation sees around half of the school sporting these badges... The reputation of our school would be dragged through the mud in front of the outsiders."

Draco wanted to retort with a snippy comment, but Quinn cut him off as he wasn't finished.

"I have a few very good friends in Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy."

The sudden statement made Draco confused as he couldn't see how it was relevant.

"From them, I know how Slytherin operates. No matter what happens between the members of the house, it doesn't get out. Outside of the walls of the house, no matter what the relation, the house remains united. Strength through unity."

Draco blinked in astonishment at Quinn's sudden knowledge of his house. He, of course, knew about the rules inside Slytherin. It didn't matter if two Slytherin students hated each other from the bottom of their hearts; they would have each other's back outside the walls of the common room. The rule was one of the rules that no Slytherin broke, and on some level, it was more prevalent than the pureblood dogma.

"It's because of that practice that the Slytherin house doesn't get overwhelmed by the three other houses, who think you're slimy snakes... Right now, Hogwarts needs that. To Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, we aren't Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff; to them, we're just Hogwarts. Any negative action from one house will reflect on all of us. Any positive action from one house will benefit us all. Right now, we need to see ourselves as Hogwarts students, not house students, and that's why I'm not going to accept this request of yours."

Draco, who sat in front of him, stared at the parchment he had brought. He hadn't thought the conversation would go this way; he expected Quinn to either accept his request or outright reject it because of their strained relationship.

He wasn't expecting Quinn to spring out Slytherin house ideology to refuse the request… and even though his request had been denied, Draco felt proud because of how Quinn described Slytherin's house standing against the other three houses.

"I won't stop you from pursuing your plan if you take it to someone else. It's your prerogative to do whatever you want, but I'll not be taking any part in it."

"... So you're saying that I need to be all chummy to Potter," asked Draco, not enthusiastic about it.

"Of course not. Just like in Slytherin, you just need to act like you have no problems with Mr. Potter... Forget that; you two don't run in the same circles, so you simply need to move on with your life."

Since Quinn had ever met Draco, he had never disliked him. Quinn saw him as the child he was, a child raised by parents who looked down on anyone but purebloods, and grew up in a circle that held the same beliefs. Hogwarts should've been where Draco got acquainted with different ideologies, but the system put him into Slytherin, and thus the cycle continued.

'The system that should've promoted growth is now hindering it. A system flawed to its core,' thought Quinn.

"I, I —." Draco didn't know how to reply. He felt embarrassed because of his motives.

"If I may suggest something, Mr. Malfoy," said Quinn, a plan forming in his head.

"Huh?" uttered Draco in confusion, but that only made Quinn smile more.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Two days later, Harry, Ivy, and Hermione walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. Since Harry had become the fourth champion, the golden squad hadn't been having a good time. Ron had left them. The Hufflepuffs gave Harry glaring looks whenever he passed them by. Slytherins snickered at them. Ravenclaw also looked at Harry with judgmental eyes.

They thought that today would be no different, and outside Gryffindor, Harry, and through association, Ivy and Hermione would have to face the pointed looks and whispers for another day.

Harry clicked his tongue when he saw someone walk towards him with a big smirk on his face.

"I'm not in the mood, Malfoy," growled Harry.

Draco, along with a couple of Slytherins, were walking towards them. When Draco and others were close enough, they noticed something, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of their robes. They saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous yellow letters that burnt brightly on a black background:

「Support CEDRIC DIGGORY - Hogwarts Champion 」

The message vanished to be replaced by another one, which glowed white on a light blue background.

「Support FLEUR DELACOUR - Beauxbatons Champion 」

Once again, the message turned, now it glowed gold on a brown background.

「Support VICTOR KRUM - Durmstrang Champion 」

Harry felt irritated as he knew that given Draco, he wasn't going to be on the badge, or if he was, then it was going to be something insulting, and his eyes twitched when the badge once again changed.

「Support HARRY POTTER - Hogwarts Champion 」

Ivy, Hermione, and Harry's eyes widened when they saw the latest red on gold. They waited to see if something would happen, but nothing did, as the batch continued to cycle between four.

Draco stepped close to Harry and smirked.

"Potter, you have to realize that I'm better than you. I'm up here," he said, putting his right hand near their head level, "and you are here down below." His left hand went as down as it could go.

"We're on entirely different levels. It's a pity that we have to tolerate you as our representative," he patted Harry's shoulder before scoffing, "You better not embarrass us, Potter."

With that, Draco placed three badges in Harry's hand, which the Boy-Who-Lived grabbed because of the suddenness of all of this. Harry could only watch in stunned silence as Draco and his Slytherin buddies walked away, leaving him very confused.

". . .What the hell."

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Quinn West - MC - This year's theme is international relations, huh.

Draco Malfoy - Slytherin - Pretending to have raised above conflict.

Harry Potter - Fourth Champion - Things aren't going his way.

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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"I know I'm productive and all, but they can't just foist all of this stuff on me. I'm a busy man for magic's sake," grumbled Quinn, making his way to the dungeons.

He had just exited charms class when McGonagall cornered him out of the classroom and handed him a task.

"It's my only free break. I'm bloody booked for the rest of the day," he said, taking a turn. He could finally see his destination.

However, when he had been within an earshot of the room, he heard a voice yelling out in a tone that was as unpleasant as nails scratching against a chalkboard.

"Antidotes! You should all have prepared your recipes by now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will choose someone that will try one..."

Quinn peeked inside from the classroom's door. Snape was looking over his class. His students looked visibly uncomfortable.

'Aha... So that's how everyone looks in Snape's class, huh,' thought Quinn, feeling the vibe oozing out of the room. Quinn never felt it while in class as he was busy brewing potions and doing his homework.

He stood there and enjoyed everyone looking super uncomfortable for a few more seconds before knocking on the dungeon door, shattering the painful silence.

He entered the classroom and made his way to Snape's desk.

"Yes, Mr. West?" said Snape curtly.

"Good afternoon, Professor. I'm supposed to take Mr. Potter upstairs," said Quinn, smiling, as he turned his face towards the class. Harry was looking at him, with his sister Ivy and Hermione sitting behind him.

He turned back to look up at Snape, who stared down at him. There was no joy on his face or any delight in his eyes. The man looked like he had just come out of Azkaban.

"Potter has another hour of potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "He will accompany you when this class is finished."

"I am aware of that, sir, but he is needed upstairs," replied Quinn, matching eyes with Potion master, "All the champions are being summoned up to take photographs for the press release. From what I have been made aware of, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Couch along with the Daily Prophet team, have already arrived, so I think it's of priority that Mr. Potter gets up there."

Harry, on his seat, looked both glad and uncomfortable. He was more than happy to exit the Potion class, but he wished Quinn wouldn't have told them details. He glanced to his right to look at Ron, who was sitting with Dean Thomas.

"Very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here. I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Actually, Mr. Potter, bring your things along," interjected Quinn, directly addressing Harry. "They want to see you in your school attire, book bag and everything."

"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter- take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Quinn ignored Snape's tone and words and moved back to the door. He saw Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door.

"Now that wasn't pleasant, was it, Harry," chuckled Quinn when they were out of earshot of the classroom. "His mood was worse than usual. Did something happen?"

"... I don't know," replied Harry, looking down at the floor as he walked. "That git is always in a bad mood... ugh, why does he have to be so nasty to everyone."

"Hmm... I have no idea," answered Quinn. No way Quinn was going to explain to him that Snape pinned after his mother.

Harry looked up from the ground and turned to glance at Quinn. Out of all the students he had seen interact with Snape, Quinn was the only one who looked comfortable doing so. Other than him, no one wanted to have a prolonged conversation with Snape.

His eyes caught the badge on Quinn's robe as it turned from Krum's name to his.

"You made those."

"Hmm?" Quinn glanced at Harry and then followed his eyes to the badge on his lapel. "That I did. You like them?"

"Yeah, I saw the A.I.D. mark on the back," said Harry, putting his hand into his pocket, feeling his own badge. He looked up and then asked what he wanted to know, "But Malfoy has been distributing these, why?"

"Mr. Malfoy was the one who came up with the idea," answered Quinn, "I suggested some changes and produced them. I offered to take on the distribution, but he wanted to do it on his own. I guess he is doing fine, given that almost all students have a badge."

"Did Malfoy really come up with this?"

Quinn chuckled in reply, "I won't lie, Harry. Mr. Malfoy had come in with different motivations, but he had this badge in hand when he left, so we can say that all's well that ends well."

"If you say so," said Harry heavily as they climbed up the stairs to the ground floor. "What do they want photos for again?"

"The information about the Triwizard Tournament is going to be published in the papers and magazines. You and the other champions are going to be interviewed and photographed for the articles."

"Great," said Harry dully. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Harry, you're already in the tournament. Lamenting your luck and feeling down about it isn't going to do you any good. You're already chosen as a champion, so I would personally suggest that you own it. I'm sure someone must've already told you about this, but you're now representing Hogwarts. To see one of our champions looking down and unenthusiastic all the damn time isn't something you want to show to outsiders... They will look down on you and take advantage of you. I'm assuming you don't want that. If I was in your place, I wouldn't want that."

"Do you? Would you want to be in my place?" asked Harry, staring at the guy who scored the highest in the entire school, who was undefeated in dueling, who was a Prefect, who owned his own unique thing inside Hogwarts and had saved him from getting kidnapped.

"Hmm," he thought about the question before answering, "If the circumstances were different, I probably would have entered my name. I don't care much about the rewards, but I would love to have the range of freedom that a champion gets during the year. Exemption from sitting in the classes is something beneficial to someone like me."

They reached their destination, so Quinn turned to Harry and gave him one last free piece of advice, "Move on, Harry. You might not like it, but you're the Boy-Who-Lived; you will be expected to act and perform a certain way. So, pull yourself together because you have a long year in front of you."

Harry heard what Quinn was talking about, and even though he couldn't wrap his head around it immediately, he nodded.

"Good, let's go in," said Quinn, opening the door and nudging the boy-champion into the room.

They entered a reasonably small classroom. Most of the desks had been pushed away to the room's back, leaving the room's half empty; three of the desks, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and were covered in velvet fabric. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks. Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a lady they had never seen before in Hogwarts, who was wearing magenta robes.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual. He wasn't talking to anyone. Cedric and Fleur were having a conversation. Fleur looked much happier than Quinn had seen her so far; she sometimes moved her head back to let her long silver hair catch the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, approaching him.

"Ah, here he is! The fourth champion! Come in, Harry, come in… there's nothing to worry about; it's just a wand weighing ceremony. The rest of the judges will arrive here in a moment—"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously, but he seemed much better than before they entered.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then, there's going to be a little photoshoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's going to write a little article about the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."

"Maybe not that little, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her light-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman but still staring at Harry. "He is the youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is- if Harry has no objection?"

"Er-" said Harry.

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers grabbed Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly firm grip, and she was about to steer him out of the room… but stopped when she glanced upon the student beside Harry.

"Quinn? Quinn West?" she gasped. Her hand released Harry's arm, and like a hawk seeing her pray, she swapped near Quinn, staring at him with a starry-eyed look.

"Hmm, yes?" Quinn looked at the woman in front of him. "Ms. Skeeter, was it? What can I do for you."

Outside, Quinn was his usual calm self, but inside, he felt like publicly clicking his tongue and making a face. He held it inside, though.

'She has recognized me? Was I photographed somewhere? Or she just remembers my face,' thought Quinn.

The one who represented the West family outside was Lia, while George and Quinn remained out of the limelight. But there were times when he and George would go to official events, which were sometimes photographed. In those events, Quinn would try his best to not get photographed, but it seemed Rita knew his face enough to recognize at first glance.

"It's so rare to see a West. I must take this chance," she harped as if others weren't there at all. "I would like to interview you before we start."

Bagman and Harry looked at Rita. They couldn't believe the woman's thick skin. She had just asked Harry for a short interview, but now she had jumped ships and targeted Quinn.

Quinn's eyes flashed for a second as he thought about his answer. After a few seconds, he answered, "I don't mind."

"Marvelous!" exclaimed Rita. She grabbed Quinn's arm and pulled him out of the room, opening another that was nearby.

"We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she said. "Let's see... ah, yes, this is nice and cozy."

It was a broom cupboard. Quinn stared at her.

"Or we can go inside that classroom," said Quinn, pointing towards a door opposite to the broom cupboard.

He didn't wait for Rita to object or reply and walked to the door, put his hand on the knob, silently unlocked it, and entered the room. Inside, he pulled out a desk and set two chairs, one on each side. He sat down and looked at Rita, who stood near the door.

"Ms. Skeeter, please, do sit. I'm sure you will want to hurry with the tournament press release starting soon," said Quinn gesturing to Rita to sit down.

The journalist didn't waste a single moment and sat down in front of Quinn with a swift speed that would put the nimblest of people to shame. She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair so that they could see what they were doing.

"You won't mind, Quinn, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally..."

Rita Skeeter's smile widened. Quinn counted three gold teeth. She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

Quinn smiled in return, leaned forward, and gently snatched the long acid-green quill out of Rita's hand.

"Wha-!" said Rita, about to ask what Quinn was doing, but her words died in her mouth when Quinn snapped the quill in half.

"I will be straight with you, Ms. Skeeter," said Quinn raising his eyes to look at Quinn. The smile on his face had changed; now, the corners of his lips were barely raised to form a very faint smile. "You will not be writing anything about me. Not a single word about Quinn West or the Wests, in general, will be published in the Daily Prophet or any other newspaper that you write for under aliases."

Rita giggled and took out another Quick-Quotes Quill of her bag. She performed the same ritual as before she began speaking.

"Testing... My name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter."

Quinn looked down quickly at the quill. The moment Rita Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment:

「 Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has

punctured many inflated reputations — 」

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned toward Quinn and said, "So, Quinn… What do you have to say about the life of a child of the West family?"

Quinn's eyes remained on the quill, and even though he wasn't speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake, he could make out a new sentence:

「A charming face, arrogant expression of a spoiled upbringing, a look that stares down on people as if regarding them as mere insignificant fleas —」

Quinn ignored the quill and the writing. He reached into his pockets and took out a playing card with a black and gold back and set it down on the desk.

"Ms. Skeeter. I don't care what you write about anyone. It could be as fake as your golden teeth, and I wouldn't bat an eye. As long as it isn't about my family or me, I honestly don't care. However, if you write about me, you won't enjoy what comes afterward."

He gently flipped the card, and instead of it being a number or a face card, what emerged was an image of a water beetle. Seeing the picture of the water beetle on the card made Rita freeze. Her wide, closed mouth smile cramped immediately.

"You're at the top of your game. Probably one of the most celebrated names in the business," said Quinn tapping his finger near the card. "You, at some level, have become a household name. It would be an absolute shame if all that hard work—"

The card was turned over, and instead of the black and gold back, there was a squashed water beetle with red blood in the background.

"— was crushed in an instant, turned to dust, forgotten with time as you are isolated in a dark cell with some not-so-colorful jailers... You wouldn't want that, right?"

Rita had gone stark white and very still. She, with a slight tremble in her eyes, stared at Quinn with fear evident all over. Her quill had gone limp, noiseless, with the tip just hovering over the parchment.

"... what do you want?" she asked, her fingertips white from clutching her crocodile-skin bag. If her identity as an illegal Animagus was released to the ministry, she would be hunted by the Aurors quicker than she could write her own name.

"I don't like repeating myself, Ms. Skeeter," he said, his face expressionless. "This will be the last time, so listen carefully. I don't want to see any article related to me or anyone I am connected to. If you do that, your naughty little secret will remain hidden, and if we're lucky, you and I will never see each other again. Understood?"

Rita wordlessly nodded, and Quinn waved his hand over the card for it to change back to a standard playing card.

"Let's return, shall we? I don't want to miss the ceremony." Quinn stood up, pocketed the card, and walked towards the door, but before he exited, he turned and warned, "Ms. Skeeter, if I see you fluttering around, getting your career ruined will be the last thing you will have to worry about... so be careful if you do visit Hogwarts."

Not giving her another look, Quinn exited the room towards the previous room to witness the weighing of the wands ceremony.

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn West - MC - Asserting control, schooling the troll.

Harry Potter - Fourth Champion - Has been having a few stressful days.

Rita Skeeter - Journalist - Water beetles are quite annoying.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

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[The chapter is edited by Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Glad to have put Rita Skeeter in her place, Quinn walked back into the room. He glanced to his right to see the champions sitting in chairs near the door. Turning his eyes to the front, Quinn saw the five judges; Igor Karkaroff, Olympe Maxime, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Ludo Bagman, and Albus Dumbledore sitting on a velvet-covered table.

Glancing to his left, he noticed Rita Skeeter settle herself down in a corner. He saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment. Her professionalism fascinated Quinn. It was impressive how quickly Skeeter bounced back and was back to normal. Just as he promised, Quinn didn't stop her from writing as it wasn't about him or his close ones.

He silently walked to another wall and stood close to it, choosing not to lean against it.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, from his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Quinn looked around, and with mild surprise, saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Quinn had met Ollivander once before— he was the wandmaker from whom Quinn had bought his own wand all those years ago in Diagon Alley.

'His presence sure is feeble,' thought Quinn. He overlooked the wandmaker when he entered the room.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm…" he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton, and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and scrutinized it.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood... containing... Dear me..."

"A lock of hair from the head of a Veela," provided Fleur. "One of my grandmothers."

'Part Veela. Bullshit,' thought Quinn.

There were no male Veelas in existence and as such a daughter born from a Veela was a Veela and not a part-Veela like in the original works. Like her mother and grandmother, Fleur Delacour was a full Veela and not some illogical quarter-Veela as had been written by the Duchess of Magic.

"Yes," said Ollivander, "yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you..."

Quinn turned his gaze to Fleur's silver hair, and the fact that her hair when she grew up could be used as a component of a magical focus fascinated him much.

'House-elf blood, Veela hair, Goblin heart, Dwarf bone,' listed Quinn in his mind, 'so many intelligent and humanoid races with a part of their body that can be used as a magical focus…'

He looked down at his hand and clenched it briefly before opening it to see the blood which had been pushed back return to his palm. Human blood had some magical properties but not enough to use as a magical focus. No part of the human body had enough magical characteristics; it made him wonder how his magic would have been if he was from a different race.

'If I was a Veela, could my hair be used as an internal focus? If I was from a race connected deeper to magic than a human... how would my magic have turned out,' he thought. He shook his head. He liked himself as a human, and there was no use in thinking about his race.

Ollivander ran his fingers along with the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand-tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you are next."

Fleur sat back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm. Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a magnificent male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition... Do you take care of it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

Harry, who was among the champions, looked down at his own wand. He could see finger marks all over it. He gathered a fistful of the robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he desisted.

Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation unless I'm mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and several small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," said Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Which leaves us... Mr. Potter."

Harry got to his feet, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see Quinn. He recalled the words the Ravenclaw had said to him... The fourth champion squared his shoulders, lifted his chin straight before confidently walking past Krum to Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. I remember it well."

Harry could remember it, too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday...

. . .

Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had entered Ollivander's shop with his parents and Ivy to buy a wand. Ollivander had taken his measurements and then started handing him wands to try. Harry had waved what felt like every wand in the shop until, at last, he had found the one that suited him— one that was made of holly, measured eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand.

"Curious," he had said, "curious," and not until Harry asked what was curious had Mr. Ollivander explained that the phoenix feather in Harry's wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Voldemort's.

His parents hadn't been happy to hear that particular piece of information. They had made Ollivander show Harry some more wands, but in the end, Harry had come out of the shop with the holly, phoenix feather wand.

. . .

Harry had been forbidden to share this piece of information with anybody. And he was okay with that order, as he was very fond of his wand, and as far as Harry was concerned, its relation to Voldemort's wand was something it couldn't be helped. However, Harry really hoped that Ollivander wasn't about to tell the room about it. Harry had a funny feeling that Rita Skeeter might just explode with excitement if he did.

Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may—"

"Now, now, Albus," interrupted Ollivander, "we have another student among us. How about I examine his wand first before you dismiss all of us?" Ollivander turned to his right, and with a smile in his pale eyes, he said, "Mr. West, please bring your wand to me. I will check it before I leave."

Everybody in the room looked at the lone non-champion student in the room. The eyes of Bartemius Crouch Senior and Ludo Bagman widened when they heard how Ollivander addressed the boy. They almost snapped their necks from the speed they turned their heads to look at the boy who was suddenly revealed to be from the West family.

Quinn acted as if he didn't notice the looks of the others. He shook his head towards the wandmaker with a smile. "As much as I would like my wand to get examined by you, Mr. Ollivander, unfortunately, I don't have my wand with me."

Dumbledore, who had gotten up from his chair, looked at Quinn in shock and surprise. "Mr. West... you don't have your wand with you?" The headmaster couldn't believe that Quinn —Quinn West in particular— didn't have his wand with him.

Quinn shifted his robes to reveal the left side of his trousers to show that the wand holster he usually magically merged with his clothes there was missing.

"Yes, Headmaster," chuckled Quinn at Dumbledore's surprise, "as strange it might seem, today, Professor McGonagall went to me just enough that I forgot my wand holster in my bookbag. I removed it for our potions' class... as, according to Professor Snape, it isn't a place for wand waving."

He turned to Ollivander and performed a short head-bow, "I will visit you in the summer, Mr. Ollivander; we can go over my wand then."

Quinn, of course, had thought of the possibility of his wand being asked for a friendly inspection. So he had purposely left his fake wand and holster in his book bag behind in his office.

"... I see," said Dumbledore slowly. "You may go back to your lessons now— or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as classes are about to end."

Feeling that he had diverted his wand situation well, Quinn took one step forward, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er— yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

Quinn stayed put and decided to stay still and wait for the event to end, but it turned out that was a mistake.

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually, she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl.

Krum, whom Quinn would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.

Quinn stepped outside of the room, stretching his slightly tired legs from standing still for too long. He wanted to go to his office and resume his work, but there was one thing he wanted to accomplish; the reason he had not left after delivering Harry for the press release.

He eyed the blue-eyed, blond man with rosy skin whose once athletic build had "gone to seed." It was akin to a sack of potatoes now.

"Mr. Bagman," he called out, stepping near the ex-Quidditch athlete.

Ludovic "Ludo" Bagman turned, and his eyes widened in surprise when he came across Quinn standing behind him. The now ministry employee knew what the child represented, so even though he was tired from the lengthy session, he greeted him with a smile.

"Quinn, was it? What can I do for you?"

"Walk with me," said Quinn and, without waiting for a reply, he started walking.

Ludo blinked a couple times but fell into step with Quinn, already under the influence of Quinn's momentum and rhythm.

"Mr. Bagman, if I'm correct, you'll be part of the judging panel for the tournament, correct?"

"Ah, yes. Along with the Headmasters and Mr. Crouch."

"Hmm, and you will also be hosting said tasks, correct?"

"Er— yes."

"Be honest with me, Mr. Bagman," asked Quinn, "are you truly interested in hosting the tasks?"

"Eh? I don't understand," replied Bagman.

"The Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports shouldn't be here for the Triwizard tournament," said Quinn. Bagman expected a "no offense" from him, but it didn't come. "The tournament might sound like it comes under the jurisdiction of your department, but it doesn't. That made me wonder, what were you actually doing here? So I did some light investigation and found that you volunteered for the judging committee."

He glanced at Bagman as he said, "I found that very peculiar."

Bagman, who saw the look in Quinn's eyes, gulped, "Why… do you think so?"

"I mean, wouldn't it make anyone wonder why a Head of a Department that hasn't had a single big initiative other than the World Cup- is suddenly becoming wildly interested in the Triwizard tournament?" Quinn spoke as if telling a story. "But then everything cleared up when I found that you are in debt— nay, crushing debt from the goblins. It became so apparent why you were here."

Bagman almost tripped on his own feet when he heard Quinn. His debt had been a well-kept secret. Despite the Goblins looking for him everywhere, he had been able to keep things under a hush.

"You definitely put in some effort in getting this job, didn't you? If Mr. Crouch had been the one in charge, I presume things wouldn't have been easy for you."

A fact that not many people knew about Ludo Bagman was that he had given information about the Ministry to Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War. He had given information to the Death Eater Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood, and after the Death Eaters fell, he had been put on trial for treason.

The one who spearheaded the trial was none other than the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Senior. He had tried hard to put Bagman in Azkaban, but Ludo was cleared of all charges to Crouch's extreme annoyance. This was partly due to him being a famous Quidditch player. One witch within the jury stood up and congratulated Bagman for his rather impressive play in the previous Quidditch match, with the others cheering him. Ludo was never accused of his allegiance with Death Eaters again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Ludo, pulling a smile on his face, but couldn't hide the fact of how uncomfortable he was feeling right now.

"Of course, of course, I'm sure I'm just misinformed," said Quinn, nodding. "But the fact remains that you're in soul-crushing debt and you need a way to pay it back. To do so, you need money which you are going to get by illegally betting on the tournament and stacking the odds in your favour. You'll manipulate the outcome to the best of your… ability."

Quinn suddenly stopped and fixed his eyes on Ludo Bagman, causing the man to stare into the stone-grey orbs; the thought that he was talking to a kid had exited his head ever since the start of the conversation.

"Mr. Bagman, I'm sure you realize what my family represents. I, right here and now, within a few minutes can," he snapped his fingers for a galleon to appear between his thumb and index finger, "snap your debt out of existence like it was never there. It won't take me any effort to do so, and by the time you wake up tomorrow, you could have a letter from Gringotts reading that your debt has been cleared."

Bagman's heart was beating loudly in his chest. The debt had been weighing on his head and chest ever since the Goblins had cornered after the World Cup finals. They had stunned him and stripped him down until he was completely nude to get their money back. He had been so shocked to find himself naked and in between a Death Eater raid after he got up that he decided to solve the problem by joining the judging panel and helping the Hogwarts Champion win the tournament.

When he found that Harry Potter had been chosen as the fourth champion, he thought his luck couldn't be better. Despite his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived, the fourteen-year-old champion didn't inspire much confidence in the underground betting scene. So he decided that he would help Harry Potter win the tournament and pocket the huge returns from his bettings.

"I can solve your problems," said Quinn with a depthless smile, "all you have to do is to step inside after me."

He gracefully raised his hand and pointed it to his side.

Bagman's eyes followed Quinn's hand, and he saw a door. It was just like any other classroom doors in Hogwarts but with just one difference.

"What do I have to do?" asked Bagman.

Quinn smiled and opened the door, inviting Bagman and stepping inside after him.

The standard Hogwarts door was shut with an out-of-the-ordinary flat, black plaque hanging snug against the door pane. In golden letters, the plaque read:

「773H」

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Quinn West - MC - Really stepping up his game, isn't he?

Garrick Ollivander - Wandmaker - Thinks a lot about his work.

Ludovic Bagman - Under crushing debt - Stepped into the deal of a lifetime.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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-*-*-*-*-*-

.

The portrait door to the Gryffindor common room flung open on its hinges, and from the opening entered Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, fourth champion. The fourteen-year-old boy was stark pale, white like a ghost as if he had seen the most horrifying scene of his life.

With a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead, he sat himself down in a corner, slumping in his seat, tapping his feet while looking at the floor with unblinking eyes.

Ever since he had become champion, he had been attracting a lot of eyes no matter where he went, and it was something that he didn't enjoy because people at Hogwarts had just gotten used to his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived. Currently, though, he didn't care about the looks of others; he couldn't care less if someone glared or smiled at him.

He didn't know how long he sat in his seat, but Hermione and Ivy had returned from their daily library visit. The two girls saw him sitting in the corner, his eyes haunted.

"What happened to you?" asked Hermione upon reaching Harry's seat.

Upon not getting an answer, Ivy pushed Harry's shoulder to get his attention, and it seemed to work when Harry trembled as he looked up with a surprised look on his face.

"W- What?!"

"We asked what happened to you," said Ivy, "Wait... why are you looking like that?"

The two girls finally noticed the pale pallor of Harry's skin when he looked up at them, causing them to get worried.

He only had one word in reply:

"Dragons."

He recalled his trip with Hagrid.

. . .

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood. Roaring and snorting— torrents of fire shot into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground. A smooth scaled green one, who was writhing and stamping with all its might. A red one with an odd fringe of refined gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air. And finally, a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, attempted to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which... It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching schriek…

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Harry had seen each of the dragon keepers pull out their wand.

"Stupefy!" they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides—

Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking— then, very slowly, the dragon fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragons hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn made the trees behind him quake.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands.

A Common Welsh,

A Swedish Short-Snout,

A Chinese Fireball,

And… the Hungarian Horntail.

Four lethal, pissed-off dragons, breathing fire in anger of captivity.

He didn't know whether he was glad he'd seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if he'd seen the dragons for the first time on the task day, he would have passed out cold in front of the whole school… but maybe he would, anyway... Harry was going to be armed with his wand —which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood— against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike ridden, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it, with everyone watching.

How?

. . .

The girls looked at each other, not knowing what to do. The thought of a dragon was terrifying to them, and that was when they weren't going to face them in a battle that might end in maiming, severe mutilation, or death.

"Harry—" started Ivy, but Harry cut him off.

He stood up from his seat, and suddenly he had a look of determination in his eyes.

"I'm going to him for help," he said.

He was already enrolled as a champion; there was no going back. So the least he could do was take some steps to increase his survival.

"Him? Who do you mean?" asked Hermione.

Harry gave a brief side glance to Ivy, and the girl-twin tilted her head in confusion, but the very next second, her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"You mean him?"

Harry nodded. "He is the best choice, isn't he?"

"Well... he is... skilled," said Ivy; she could suddenly feel the phantom sensation of walls clutching around her. "But are you sure? This is big... he is going to ask for a lot."

"Mum can't help in the open. Dad isn't here, nor is Sirius here. Out of everybody, I think he is one good choice, isn't he?" said Harry, listing.

"Or we can just practice among ourselves," Hermione chimed in, catching up to the conversation.

Harry turned to the brunette and asked, "Do you know how to deal with a dragon?"

"Well— not really..." replied the smartest of the group.

"He will be able to help. Didn't you say that he's undefeated," pointed out Harry to his sister, "Also, if I remember correctly, he defeated Cedric; doesn't that make him the best person to go to. A person who defeated a champion could certainly help."

"If you say it like that..." The points made sense to her, but the thought of Harry incurring a heavy debt worried Ivy.

"I would like to survive this instead of worrying what he would ask of me."

Ivy still hesitated but conceded in the end, "All right, you can go to him for help."

"Good," nodded Harry while stepping forward.

"Where are you going?" asked Ivy.

"To him."

"Now?" said Hermione, looking at her watch; there wasn't much time for dinner.

"I would like to meet him as soon as possible," was Harry's reply as he made his way to the exit, prompting the two girls to follow after him.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Quinn sat behind his desk, gazing at the people sitting in front of him.

"What do you two think?" he asked with a smile, "A fun and productive proposal to spend your time at Hogwarts? You're going to be here for a while, so why not make it unique, something to remember and tell in the future as a story."

Across him stood two people; one dressed in Durmstrang and the other in Beauxbatons.

Quinn turned to the Durmstrang student and smiled, "Mr. Krum, your time here will definitely be something we will remember. What do you think, some Quidditch, while you're stuck here, doesn't sound bad, does it?"

The grumpy and taciturn champion, who had been grouchy the entire time he had been in Hogwarts, who had been extra irritable when Kari, his classmate, had escorted him to this —office— to meet some kid. He thought that it was going to be another person asking him for his signature. But now, as he sat here in this seat listening to the kid —Quinn West— talking about a Quidditch tournament, Krum felt the happiest he had been ever since coming here.

"I will participate," he nodded. He was more excited to participate in this than he was to take part in the Triwizard tournament.

Quinn then turned to the other person, a boy, blonde, blue eyes, and asked the same question. "What about you, Mr. Dupont? Would you like to lead a Beauxbatons team?"

Gael Dupont was the first guy from Beauxbatons that Quinn had talked to. He was a friendly and affable seventh year student.

"I would be honoured to, Quinn," smiled the French wizard.

"Excellent!" smiled Quinn pushing a thin stack of papers each towards the two people. This would be an elaborate thing, and he needed ample paperwork to keep track of things.

"Please sign these at the crossed lines. This is some boilerplate stuff; you can read them if you want," notified Quinn, and it was true; he hadn't messed with any of the wording.

"Mr. Krum, any other professional contract I should be aware of? Something that wouldn't allow you to play Quidditch on your own?" he asked, knowing that, as Krum was a professional athlete, perhaps he could have some restrictions normal people didn't have.

"No," replied the Bulgarian, "I was contracted to the national team. The negotiations with the clubs are still ongoing. I'm still free to play anywhere I want to."

"Good, that saves me legal trouble."

The two new captains signed the contract for the interschool Quidditch tournament.

"Now, you don't have to worry about setting up teams right now," said Quinn, slipping the form into envelopes, "I will announce the tournament after the first task, which is on November 24. Thus, we are going to announce it on November 25. That day I will introduce the captains along with the rules. The official tournament will start on January 1, so you will have an entire month to set things up and get in some training."

He stood up from his seat, prompting the other two to do the same.

"It was nice meeting you two," he said, shaking their hands, "I will keep in touch. Please look forward to this tournament; it's going to be something special."

The two future captains exited the office feeling satisfied and excited about their future. Even Quinn was happy with how things were going. Things were running smoothly.

"Nevertheless... the tough part is yet to come," he said, groaning and stretching. He sighed. Setting up teams was easy; he just needed to choose captains and let them do all the work, "So much of the logistics is left."

As he walked to the red door in the glass wall, ready to get some magical work done, he heard a knock on his door. He turned back just in time to listen to the door-chime ring in a clear, soothing melody.

"Oh, my," he said in surprise and curiosity, "I wasn't expecting you three to come here today."

In front of him were the Potter twins and the smartest witch of her age. They were standing at his doorstep; one determined, one hesitant, and the last curiously looking around his office.

"Harry, Ivy, Ms. Granger. How may I help you out today?" Quinn asked as he moved away from the red door back to the barstool behind his desk. "Please, come in and have a seat."

He sat on his own seat and waited for the three to settle down. He judged them from their current looks and body language and saw that all of them were pretty nervous. Something he found interesting, as the girls hadn't been anxious during their last visit.

"Do you know about the first task?" asked Harry, deciding to be straight to the point.

"Yes," answered Quinn. "Why?"

"I just saw them near the forest," continued Harry, as Ivy and Hermione exchanged a look; as they were expecting, Quinn was aware of the first task, and from the looks of it, he knew about it before today.

"Ah," nodded Quinn with a smile, "Magnificent creatures, aren't they? They are wonders of magic. In my opinion, their connection to magic is something to behold... So what do you want from me?"

"I want to live," said the Boy-Who-Lived, "I don't want to die from getting burned to ashes by a dragon."

"And?"

Harry glanced at Ivy and Hermione before turning back to Quinn. "I want you to teach me how to survive the dragon."

Quinn stared at Harry for a second —a very long second— before replying. "Sure, I can do that."

The three clients blinked. They stared at Quinn, who looked like what he had said was no big deal.

"... You will?" asked Ivy, honestly expecting something more or… just something.

"Yeah, it's all right. I don't consider myself a good teacher, but I think you will handle it just fine."

"What will you charge?" asked the redhead. She had experience.

"The usual charges apply; in exchange for my services, you owe me a favor of equal importance," answered Quinn, interlinking his fingers over the desk.

"I accept," declared Harry without hesitation. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow," answered Quinn, "I will have a schedule sent over to you; build your day around that. I'm not going to adjust to yours; you're going to adapt to mine. Though I warn you, it is going to be tough. I'm not a great teacher because I don't have any patience for those who don't work hard. If the problem is me, I will change, but if you aren't going to put in the work, then you're not going to like me much for the next two weeks."

Quinn had two students —if he could call them that— Eddie and Luna.

Eddie worked quite well with Quinn because his best friend worked hard and hated to lose. Eddie's personality made sure that he kept on working hard, and thus, under Quinn's training, he had been able to get fit quite quickly.

On the other hand, Luna wasn't as hard-working as Eddie, but because Quinn had tailormade the learning method just for her, Luna was able to maintain consistent progress. As long as he was able to keep Luna interested, she would work and show good progress.

However, unlike Luna, Quinn didn't have the time to tailor a regime to Harry. He didn't know how Harry learned or how quickly he learned, and with only a fortnight to the first task, Quinn didn't have time to build Harry an optimal learning path.

"Can we learn too?" asked Hermione. The opportunity to learn from Quinn interested her a lot.

"Hmm," Quinn gave it a thought before nodding, "As long as you don't cause a delay in Harry's progress, you and Ivy, if she desires, can watch. But no one else."

After setting up more terms, the three left, leaving Quinn behind in his office.

"Another year, another request," he said.

Ever since the first time Ivy Potter had entered his office along with Hermione Granger, he had provided the members of the Golden Squad the best help and solution he could provide. No matter what request they put in front of him, he offered a great solution to them. Sure, he asked them for something in return, but it was always just a token to make it seem that he wouldn't give them help for free.

The only favour he had cashed in was from their break-in.

He wasn't dense or ignorant; every time Ivy Potter had entered this office, she exited with some form of information. He knew what he was doing when he provided them with the knowledge and how it helped them. As long as anyone from Golden Squad came to the A.I.D. office and him, Quinn was going to help them out.

With their identity and fate, Quinn didn't mind helping them out. As long as it helped them along with Voldemort's death as the goal, or simply the progression of the plot, Quinn was more than happy to be of help. If Ron Weasley came into his office and read a request from a slip of parchment one day, Quinn would help him out as long as it didn't put him at a disadvantage.

"It's good they're cautious of me," muttered Quinn, "it will keep their requests in check."

He smiled, stood up, and walked to his workshop, ready to start his magical research.

Quinn West was a busy wizard, after all.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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[

A/N:

Hullo people,

Now, I've been seeing some comments saying that the chapters are shorter.

It turns out that the statements are in fact true.

Hear me out,

I made a mistake and that was to undersell my word count.

I generally publicized that my chapters are 3K words long because it's easy to write and 3K sounds a good rounded number, but the truth is that before my little mid-term break, I've been pumping out chapters which were closer to 3.5K than 3k.

The recent few chapters have truly been 3K words chapters and that might be the reason they seem short in comparison.

Don't get me wrong, I've always aimed for 3K word chapters, but almost every time I write a chapter, it seems that whenever I reach that 3K line, my brain decides to get productive and I end up with chapters that are over 3K.

That was my analysis.

Thank you for reading,

FictionOnlyReader.

]

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Quinn West - MC - This is seriously going to be a hectic year.

Harry Potter - Fourth champion - The Boy-Who-Lived wants to continue to live.

Victor Krum - Durmstrang Champion - He didn't enter the tournament entirely of his own will, did he.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https//fictiononlyreader ]

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

The darkness of the Forbidden Forest's Underworld looked quite different in Quinn's night vision. Everything was coloured in shades of grey, the objects lacked details… yet his eyes were highly susceptible to movements. His other senses worked harder to compensate for the fact that his vision was incomplete.

From his peripheral vision, Quinn noticed a mid-size acromantula crawl out of the bushes between the blackened trees, making soft clicking sounds from the faint rustle of leaves.

'Another attack?' he wondered, ice crackling with a faint mist below his palm.

He raised his arm up, a jagged ice spike floating along with it. The acromantula didn't seem to feel any fear in the face of the ice. Seeing the lack of reaction, Quinn's eye twitched, and he sighed. He raised his arm straight above his head and shot the ice spike straight up into the air with loaded force.

Instantly, a screeching scream sounded as a small-sized acromantula fell down just ahead of his feet. A thick rope of spider web attached from its spinneret was hanging above.

'If force isn't working, they're using brains, huh. I can respect that.'

The mid-size acromantula that was working as a distraction saw another spike manifest into existence, and this time it felt fear. The spider leaped into the bushes and scurried away before Quinn could send a spike its way.

He knelt on the floor, and with a pair of protective gloves adorning his hands, Quinn extracted some venom from the pincers and the already produced web-silk from its spinneret. He didn't doubt obtaining one of the more unusual materials on the market.

"If this keeps going, I will soon have a hefty stock of this stuff."

It had been a couple of weeks since he had started to explore the forest, and in all of his visits, Quinn had met acromantulas every single time. Argog didn't have control over his children, at least not much as he liked to think. The flesh-eating magical spiders were hungry for human flesh, and Quinn's regular visits were simply too much of a temptation.

After collecting the venom and silk, Quinn walked ahead; deeper into the forest. Within a minute of walking, treading between the trees, vines, and knee-length bushes, Quinn finally arrived at another region of the woods. His enlarged, dilated pupils and modified eyes reverted to their original state as he saw a stream of light illuminate a circular clearing.

He knelt down just away from the edge and peered into the only area he had reached, which had natural sunlight hitting the ground. He looked at the reason behind the reason.

Within the clearing were broken stumps, uprooted trees, grassless ground, skid marks ravaging the land, and within all of it, he saw the residents of the great clearing. Among all of that, ferocious roars and grunts resounded as Quinn watched forest trolls, pale-green skin, and straggly hair, armed with clubs crafted from uprooted trees.

The twelve-foot-tall, muscular monstrosities savagely fought each other. They bashed their clubs against each other, earnestly trying to defeat their opponent. One of the trolls finally seemed to gain an advantage as he struck the other trolls' clubs aside and raised his own club above his head before bringing down the sturdy clubs straight down on the head of the other troll.

A loud crack filled with an area with a painful roar, causing Quinn to flinch. But the sound was just the start, as a wave of more deafening roars pervaded the area. A horde of trolls sitting around the clearing, some of the tree logs, others on the ground, cheered at the fight's brutal conclusion.

'Damn, do they do this every day?'

Two times, he had watched the same scene two times. He had seen the forest trolls duking it out, and both times he had left after observing them, not daring to enter the light.

'One troll took a barrage of spells from the twelve-year-old me,' thought Quinn, 'I can incapacitate them quicker now, but a dozen of them? That doesn't...'

The danger was just too great. With no free water source near Quinn, he didn't have a magic that could use to wipe the trolls in one fell swoop.

'Fire could work, but the collateral damage would be too great.'

The area and power of magic weren't a problem. He could use some other elements with a lot of "firepower," but the problem was control. He was good with the other elements, but the level of control that Quinn needed to eliminate the trolls without the risk of setting the forest on fire wasn't a level that he currently had.

'Fortunately, I have something I can use,' he smiled and his body covered in black camouflage turned invisible. He stood up walked forward into the clearing.

The reason he had returned two times was because of scouting. He had found the density of trolls inside the darkness was much denser than outside. If he wanted to get past this part of the forest, he had to go through the clearing. Even with his invisibility magic, the terrain of the forest was rough enough for Quinn to hide all the noise. The grassless ground was his safest choice.

Step-by-step, he moved towards smack dab in the middle of the clearing.

'This reminds me of the chessboard,' he thought, smiling, 'The risks are around the same, aren't they?'

"Roar!"

His smile broke when he heard a roar from behind. Quinn turned to see a forest troll, larger than other of his kin, entering the clearing. His club seemed grander than others, ornated with various leathers and spiked with carved bones all around its surface.

The new forest troll had spotted Quinn.

'How in hell?!' he thought, but the answer struck him like a bolt of lightning as he saw the troll's eyes. The green troll's eyes were an off-white color, a shade barely different from the white of the eyes. Quinn knew in his heart that it wasn't just abnormal eye color but something magical.

"Trolls, like hags, possess rudimentary magic that in rare cases manifests in additional physical features."

A tidbit of information about trolls popped up in his mind. It had been so rare, that that information had been stuck in the corner of a page. It seemed it was something that was so rarely seen that it was barely notable enough to get printed in... "one freaking book!"

'He can see me. Something in his eyes can see me. What is it? Magic sight? Heat vision? Or something entirely different?'

He tried to think of the reason, but almost as soon as the thought entered, it was forcibly squashed as right now Quinn's priorities were different. He had to get out of here as quickly as possible.

His magic-aided mind worked overtime, and while he thought, the regular forest trolls stood up in confusion. They couldn't see Quinn, but their leader alerted them that there was an intruder here —and not just any intruder— they had a human among them.

Trolls, just like their neighbours, acromantulas, also loved human flesh, and they liked to eat the meat raw.

Quinn finally thought of a solution, spurring a line in his mind. It was one line that he recalled from the original works.

'Anyone can speak, troll. All you have to do is point and grunt.'

So that's what he was going to do.

'If this doesn't work. I am going to go on a rampage and run in the chaos.'

The magic started to leak out of Quinn; invisible streams of magic rose up, populating the area around him. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The image, sound, scent, and feel were unmistakable in his mind. Quinn already had everything, and the magic was within him.

'Let's go.'

The forest trolls had all armed themselves with their clubs and bones. The white-eye leader pointed at the spot Quinn was standing, telling his kind who couldn't see Quinn's position.

But before they could take a step closer, abruptly, a dominant roar shook the area. They saw a fifteen feet tall figure come running out of the woods. It was the same size as their leader, but it looked much wilder and more muscular than their leader. Instead of a club, it had a dull, rusted sword in his hand, which he dragged across the ground, gashing the earth as he stomped forward.

All trolls stepped back with their weapons clutched in their hands. They were scared of the newcomer's roar and size. The weapon, too, intimidated them. The dumb trolls had enough intelligence to gauge this one's intentions before charging in... the thought of the so-called invisible human.

The leader troll, unlike his lesser kind, could see what was going on. He could see that the new troll was just some magic done by the human, as he was standing behind the "new troll." It grunted to tell them the truth, but the new troll roared louder and raised his sword towards him, challenging him to a fight.

The forest trolls grunted in joy, excited to see a fight. They were confused about who to follow, and a "war" would solve that problem. They sat down, slamming their clubs against the floor repeatedly as in the tradition of forest trolls.

Quinn behind the "new troll" smiled. His plan was working.

'Illusions sure are handy,' he thought. 'thankfully, these guys are dumb, so dumb.'

He had copied the leader troll, altering some features, making his creation more intimidating. The sword interacting with the ground leaving gashes? That was simply earth magic emulating metal being dragged across the soil. The roars were sound magic, like the ones during his Tri-wizard performance, something he had mastered. He roared and grunted, challenging the big-bad troll to a brawl.

'If I win, I can walk out of here without arising suspicion,' he thought and looked at the leader, who looked pissed. He had walked to the middle, with his bone-spike club ready for attack.

'Oh, you big dummy, you're unlucky,' sighed Quinn with a smile, 'You might be big and a little special, but in the end, you're still a troll. The current me can wipe the floor of the twelve-year-old me... I could probably make him cry if I wanted, though that son of a bitch would probably try to pull something off...' Quinn shook his head to stop himself from thinking off-topic, 'So you're going down. Hard.'

Quinn decided to take on the role of the aggressive alpha troll and decided to make the first move. His illusion troll raised his blunt sword and ran forward to strike. On the other hand, he prepared a flesh-shredding curse in his hand, ready to shoot it when the metal made contact.

With his special sight, the leader troll knew that the troll in front of him was a fake, so his troll-brain decided to take the attack head-on; no defense was needed.

'Idiot.'

The rusted sword descended on the defenseless leader, and the moment the illusion met his corporal body, the troll's shoulder was shredded; it wasn't deep, but neither was it a shallow cut due to the tough troll skin. It was enough to send the leader into panic and shock. He grabbed his shoulder and raised his club for defense, but Quinn had already anticipated the actions.

'Can't let him rest, need to keep attacking,' thought Quinn and prepared a strong Depulso —it wasn't a duo or maxima— Quinn never used those versions, they used language to gain the extra power, and he never used any words while casting magic. His "spells" resulted from his pure understanding of the magic and transcended the limit of chant-triggered magic. Even though he called it Depulso, it was at its essence a push spell whose upper power limit was decided upon Quinn's understanding and the amount of magic he put in.

The illusion raised his foot and kicked the troll, and simultaneously the Depulso-replication made contact, sending the leader to the floor.

"Wu-argh!" grunted the leader in pain and surprise.

"WARGH!" roared the illusion and raised his sword in a reverse grip, moving in for a stab.

The leader was a tough and brawling-adept troll as he rolled aside to avoid the sword, causing the ground where he was just before to be ravaged by Quinn's magic.

'Tch, he dodged,' thought Quinn clicking his tongue, 'but... your opponent isn't a real troll; he is an illusion' A savage smile appeared on Quinn's face as he finished his thoughts, 'he can move faster.'

The illusion pulled out the heavy sword, which probably would have weighed a lot if real, out of the ground with an unnaturally swift speed and brought it up slashed down again. The experienced leader, with a mind only for brawling, sent out a kick, tried to sweep the illusion's legs.

Quinn scrunched up his face and made his illusion jump to avoid the sweep. He couldn't have the leader land even a single hit, which would take away the illusion; he could control his movement, but not the leaders'.

The illusion kicked the leader once in the shoulder, worsening the injury getting a howl from the leader. Quinn's troll took the chance and placed his foot on the leader's chest, holding him down.

'I won't kill you, but I can't have you interfering with me,' thought Quinn, 'I'm sorry... really, really sorry.'

The sword was raised and slashed across the leader's eyes, spurting blood, causing howls, effectively blinding the leader, taking away his only gift.

"RaaRgH!" screamed the leader, clutching his eyes.

Quinn's troll stepped back and grunted and roared at the smallest of the trolls among the troll horde. In a show of compassion and apology, Quinn ordered them to take care of the leader. Three smaller trolls lifted the leader up and took him away from the clearing into the darkness. The mournful screams eventually subsided, leaving Quinn alone with the remaining troll.

The illusion walked away without saying a word to the others, stepping out of the clearing. And in darkness, Quinn erased the illusion and decided to end the day with this.

'Next time, I will move on,' he decided, walking away from the forest troll inhabitants living in the Forbidden Forest.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Barty Crouch Sr. returned to his home after a busy day at the Ministry. He removed his coat and hat and hung them on the hangers, his eyes looking slightly confused and uncomfortable as he placed his hat on the hook; the man wasn't used to this particular action.

"Is work getting me?" he sighed, "Is my age getting to me? To think I would be tired just with this. This much was nothing in the old days."

He chuckled in derision at his current situation. From the prestigious position of DMLE Head to the Head of International Relations... how far he had fallen.

"All because my son decided that it was fine to join a Dark Lord," he sighed, and for a brief painful moment, the thought of his late wife flashed through his mind. "I should check on how that idiot son of mine is doing."

With his wand in hand, Crouch Sr. walked towards his son's room. He didn't know that Barty Jr. needed a new layer of Imperius cast on him. But as he reached the staircase that led to his son's room, the father noticed that a room not used in the house had light coming from inside. Confused with this sight, Barty Sr. removed his foot from the stair-step and walked towards the door with light across the edges.

The owner's hand reached the doorknob, but before he could grab it, Barty Sr.'s eyes glazed over; he withdrew his hand and stood still in his spot with a blank look. Within seconds, clarity returned to Barty Sr.'s eyes as he turned away from the room and the section of the house.

"He will be fine. No need to worry," he said, sighing, "I need to fix myself a drink."

But as he walked away, Barty Sr. turned his head back to look at the door, his eyes shaking as if struggling against something, before he glazed over once again and became calm as if the tremor had been a lie.

Inside the room left behind, still with light leaking through the gaps, sat two people; one thin and short with rat-like features while the other a wrinkled and hideous baby.

"Wormtail, any news from Barty?" asked the ugly baby.

"Yes, master," answered the calm man, matching eye with the ugly baby he called master. "Barty says that the boy has been made aware of the dragons awaiting him for the first task. Rubeus Hagrid took the boy and showed him the dragons."

"I see; what do you think of the boy, Wormtail?"

"I wouldn't know, master. The last time I saw Harry was when he was a year old; after that, I haven't had much contact with the Potter family," said Peter Pettigrew, "but from what I've heard, he's like James. If that's true, then Harry Potter is brash, reckless, and popular, but I'm sure Lily must've given something of hers to the boy."

Babymort stared at the follower who had brought him back with a cold gaze. His followers in his presence showed various behaviors; worship, fear, happiness, nervousness, servitude, and all other kinds of emotions, but he never had seen calm indifference as he saw now.

"Tell me, Wormtail, why did you seek me in Albania?"

Peter glanced up from the internal Ministry memos provided by the Imperius-ed Barty Sr. "The ruin of the Potters and their compatriots master. That's the reason I returned instead of leaving my previous life behind."

"... Meaning that you didn't find me for my sake. That's something dangerous to admit, don't you think Wormtail?"

"No reason to lie now, master. You already went through my mind after we got you this body. Neither you nor I gain anything from me lying about my motives. Not that it matters, the destruction of Potters is my main goal, and for you, it's a crucial step for your return to the crown of the wizarding world."

"What after that Wormtail? What after I do kill the boy and with him Dumbledores' little annoying group? What are going you going to do then?"

"Sometimes to achieve something, we have to lose something else," answered Peter looking at the burning fireplace, "as much as I would like to finally rest at the end of the Potters, I doubt you would allow that. So, servitude in return for my revenge that is the current plan."

"What makes you think I won't kill you when I'm done with you, Wormtail?"

Wormatil chuckled, an absolutely fake and dull chuckle as if the man had forgotten what it was like to laugh, causing Babymort's eyes to narrow a fraction.

"I don't know what the future holds or what are your plans for me, master. Currently, I simply yearn to see the lifeless eyes of James, Sirius, and Remus. Ask me the same question on that day; maybe I will have an answer then."

"You're playing a dangerous game," said Babymort in his squeaky voice.

"The moment I turned up at your doorstep all those years ago, I was already part of the game, master. It's just now I'm finally playing to my fullest," responded Peter removing his eyes from the fireplace.

"I don't trust you, Wormtail."

"A wise decision, master."

The conversation between master and servant ended. The room regained its previous silence.

Neither cared about each other, and both knew that fact well, and maybe it was because of that that they worked so well together. As long as their goals aligned, the threat of betrayal was not present, making the two each other's greatest allies.

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Quinn West - MC - Let's go! Real-life Fighting game!

Leader - Forest troll - Possess-ED magical eyesight.

Babymort - Voldemort - Doesn't have the Cruciatus urge in his current form.

Peter Pettigrew - Wormtail - Has forgotten what it's like to laugh.

FictionOnlyReader - Author - How did you like the fight? I will be switching things up in the future.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https//fictiononlyreader ]

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

The Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration, sat in her office gazing at the student in front of her, genuinely wondering whether it had been a right decision to hand over the entire organization of an event of such size to a student.

"Did you procure all the permissions, Professor?" asked the body in front of her, "I hope you did because I'm working on short time and deadlines here, so I will really need those permissions as soon as possible."

"... Mr. West, I have the permissions here with me, but I truly have to ask, do you require these many people inside Hogwarts? The Headmaster wasn't happy to have these many inside the castle."

"Of course, ma'am," said Quinn nodding, "I don't have a budget for this, so I need to gain funding some other way. All the people coming are required for me to make my vision possible. Without them, I'll not be able to get anything moving."

"The Headmaster Dumbledore suggested that we got the Ministry involved. They might sponsor the Quidditch tournament just as they are doing the Triwizard tournament."

"I don't think so," said Quinn shaking his head, "They won't give me enough money to sponsor what I'm thinking. They are offering the winning champion a thousand galleons; that's a Junior Auror's starting monthly salary. I get that Auror's job can be dangerous, but fighting a dragon for a thousand galleons? Nah, I don't think so."

"Mr. West... the dragons are a secret," the deputy sighed, "I won't bother asking how you know this."

Quinn shrugged and chose not to tell the lady that at least three champions knew about the dragons.

"It's not like I'm asking all these people to stay at Hogwarts," he reasoned, "I simply want them to come in for meetings and to pitch my ideas. After we are done, they'll leave." He then smiled and put on an alternative, "I can always meet them out in Hogsmeade, of course. But I'd need permission to leave the castle anytime I want."

McGonagall's sigh was all the response both of them needed. She could imagine how much Quinn would use the permission if he was granted it.

"I do have to ask, how did the Headmaster accept after you told him of my plans," asked Quinn as McGonagall was the only faculty he talked to regarding this matter.

"He... was skeptical of it at first. He didn't think it was possible to host it in such a short time," answered McGonagall, pursing her lips, "I was able to convince him, but he still isn't that optimistic about it."

"Then I will just have to show him that it's possible," smiled Quinn, "Even impossible says that I'm-possible."

She slid across the stack of parchments across the table towards Quinn. "These are the permissions. The times and dates are mentioned here. You can't bring them deep into the castle; there is a room prepared for you. When they arrive, you'll have to go and fetch them from the gates; the responsibility for escorting them falls entirely upon you."

Quinn picked up the parchments and quickly went through every single sheet before nodding, "Everything seems to be in order. The next few days are going to be busy for me."

"To be honest, I don't even understand why you are inviting half of those people. Are they all vital for the tournament? We ourselves didn't meet that many people for the Triwizard Tournament," she said.

Quinn replied, getting up from his barstool, "Everyone and everything is crucial, Professor. I am building a clock, and every task I do is a gear in the mechanism. Only when all of them work properly will the big clock function perfectly."

"If you say so. I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do, ma'am. Now, I will take my leave. Good afternoon, Professor."

"Good afternoon, Mr. West."

The boy left, leaving the woman alone in her office, who sighed when she saw the stack of assignments that needed to be checked and marked.

"This Quidditch tournament better be really good."

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Harry Potter's evenings were usually for hanging out and spending time with his friends; he had fun, played around, or simply flew outside while catching quaffles. Today was different, as he had broken away from his daily normality. He was standing on grey stone pebbles, which were littered around a place a distance away from the castle.

"It's good that you three are on time," said the person in front of him. They were dressed in a simple white t-shirt and black cargo shorts.

Harry turned to his right as he heard his sister speak. "What are we going to do today?"

Hermione also raised her hand, "Are we really going to learn how to fight a dragon?"

He looked at Quinn. The Ravenclaw staring at him with a peculiar look as if expecting something, but... "What?" asked Harry.

"Before we start, I'm going to make one thing clear," said Quinn walking towards Harry, "I am here to teach you, Harry. Your sister and Ms. Granger are getting to watch me teach and nothing else. How much they learn is up to their aptitude. I'm not going to engage with them as much as with you. They're not my priority; these two won't be facing a dragon; these two will be sitting in the stands, watching you—" he poked Harry at his chest "— possibly getting mauled by a fire-breathing beast with a spell-resistant hide. So, the first thing you can do to not get mauled is ask questions. Whatever pops in your mind gets out of your mouth and flows into my ears. Now, how much you follow this advice is up to you."

Quinn stepped back and looked at the three of the Golden squad. To some level, he knew their capabilities, as he sometimes peeled into their matters.

"The goal of this 'training' course is simple," said Quinn, "you need to survive the dragon and not get killed. The result I want to achieve is you not going to Madam Pomfrey after the task to get fixed up. If we can achieve that, this course will be a success. Unfortunately, we don't have time to get you to a level where you will be able to survive a dragon every time you end up meeting one."

The three 'students' gazed at Quinn as he talked like meeting a dragon was common.

"Thus, we are going to optimize this course to suit the first task," said Quinn.

"You know about the first task?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, the first task is retrieving an egg from a dragon's nest." answered Quinn, briefly glancing as once again it wasn't Harry who had asked a question, "There is a catch, though. The dragons aren't going to be just any dragons; they are going to be nesting dragons."

"Nesting dragons!" gasped Ivy.

"It seems you know about it. Yes, nesting dragons," sighed Quinn, "Mother dragons are ferociously protective of their eggs, so they will be extra nasty to those who try to get close to their unborn progeny. The four champions who will be tasked to retrieve an egg will face their wrath. All of this just makes the task harder."

He clapped with a smile, "Now that you know all of this, what do you think is the best course of action for the completion of the first task safely?"

The three trainees sunk into thought, trying to conceive of an answer.

"Don't go near the mother dragon," said Hermione.

"Don't attack the mother dragon," provided Ivy.

"Er— don't attack the eggs?" spoke Harry, taken aback by the tiny amount of time his friends took.

"Let's see," started Quinn and first pointed at Hermione, "Staying away from the mother dragon is a smart decision. If you can get that egg while keeping away, then there is nothing better than that. It keeps you away from a direct jet of dragon fire which is always a plus point."

He pointed at Ivy. "Your statement is a little iffy. Any spell cast against the dragon is an attack; the possibility of not trying to shoot spells at the dragon isn't realistic. I can think of some situations and… well, now I can think of some of them. Okay, we will talk about them later."

"Finally, Harry," said Quinn, "Your point is of utmost importance. The last thing you want is to harm the eggs. Do that, and your job will get exponentially more challenging. The dragon will turn from a protective mum to a breserking monster."

"Now, I will tell you how I would've answered the question," he said, "My action plan is to get in, move swiftly and get out as quickly as possible. The less time you're in front of a dragon the less the chances of you getting burned."

His bouts with the Kraken hadn't ended quickly as he was suggesting now because the Kraken wasn't trying to kill him, but the dragons were different; they would definitely try to kill him if he walked in front of one.

"Decrease your movements to reduce the danger, huh," commented Ivy.

"Exactly," smiled Quinn, getting the reference from their time-travel chronicles.

"But how do we steal the egg without getting close to the dragon?" asked Harry.

"There are a few options, and in the upcoming days, we're going to go through all of them," replied Quinn and peered intently at Harry, "and Harry? I'm going to cover some of the methods, so you better practice your best until the next session, when I'll teach you another one. If I don't see progress, you won't like me very much. It can be the barest of progress, but I need that progress."

Harry nodded in response, ready to do whatever was needed from him.

"Excellent," spoke Quinn in acknowledgment, "Now, let's actually get started. We're going to go learn one of the methods that will suit the first task. This method is a simple enough spell that every wizard should know; the summoning spell."

The gears in Harry's mind turned, and with sparkling eyes, he answered, "I'm going to summon my broom and then ride it. The dragon will follow me, and after the diversion, I will grab the egg and exit the stadium."

"Sure, you can do that if you want," said Quinn. He knew that was the method used by the original Harry Potter, "but I wasn't talking about using the summoning charm to pull the egg towards you. Not only will you be at a distance, the speed of the summoning —after you practice it— will be fast enough for you to get the egg before the dragon comes after you or breathes fire."

Hermione raised her hand and questioned, "The rest of the champions are all sixth or seventh year. Wouldn't the judges know to charm the egg against the summoning charm?"

"Astute observation, Ms. Granger," he smiled, happy with the observation, "There exist charms that disable summoning charms. Many upper mid-range and above wizarding goods sold as of the 20th century and early 21st century come pre-enchanted with an Anti-theft charm to keep them from being summoned by anyone but their rightful owners. Thus, you're correct; most probably, the egg will be charmed against the summoning charm."

"Then what's the use of learning the spell?" asked Harry.

"Well, you can do your broom thing," replied Quinn, "or you can wrap something like cloth around the egg and summon the cloth tugging the egg along with it. The anti-summoning charm will be bypassed with simple strategy."

"How do I get a cloth around the egg with the dragon guarding it?" asked Harry.

"Let's see... see that rock right over there?" Quinn pointed at a rock nearly the size of a dragon egg, which was a fraction bigger than an ostrich egg, "We are going to assume that it's the dragon egg."

As Quinn took out his fake wand, Ivy spoke up, "Are you going to transfigure the piece of clothing? It will be tough with the dragon there—"

The sentence died as Quinn pointed his fake wand at the stone, and at a laser beam speed, a blue spell light shot out, zapping the pebbles near the rock in an instant. Within a split second, the pebbles merged together and transfigured into cloth which jumped at the rock, wrapping around it. An upwards wave of his fake wand and the stone was tugged along with the cloth, zooming into Quinn's hand at rocket speed.

The entire process registered under four seconds.

"— near the egg..." finished Ivy, watching the rock in Quinn's with utter amazement. The reaction was mimicked by the other two.

"It doesn't matter if a dragon is guarding it," said Quinn nonchalantly, dropping the stone on the ground with the de-transfigured pebbles scattering, "if I'm this fast, it won't have the time to react. I'm not asking you to become this fast. But if you're able to distract the dragon, a fast enough version of this will work for you during the first task."

He put a hand in his trousers' pocket and lazily waved his other hand towards the trio. "Now try to practice this same thing till the end of the hour."

Quinn walked backward and sat against a stone, watching the three take out their wands.

"Oh, I almost forgot it," he spoke up before they started, "the chant for the summoning spell is 'Accio.' Listen carefully, it's ah-kee-oh. Not 'see', nor 'she,' but 'kee.'"

Harry nodded, but the other two girls glanced at Quinn, realizing he hadn't voiced the spell out while casting.

'Nonverbal casting,' thought both simultaneously. On the other hand, Quinn hadn't noticed that as he never used verbal casting in his life.

The hour passed with Quinn half working with the three, half concentrating on his occlumency.

After all, he had no time to waste.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

With all the responsibilities Quinn had taken, dinner time at Great Hall was the only time Quinn was actually free. From six in the morning when he woke up to one after midnight when he went to sleep, every single movement was spent working, practicing magic, and studying.

Even now, while he put a piece of bread into his mouth, he was thinking about what he needed to complete before going to sleep.

'Tomorrow is going to be a long day; I need to prepare for that,' he thought as he ate a spoonful of Lancashire hot pot.

Eddie, who was sitting beside Quinn, felt a pat on his shoulder and turned his head to look.

"Can I sit here," asked the person.

"Huh, hell no —" said Eddie, answering with his instincts, but when he saw the person, his eyes widened, and his lips parted ever so slightly.

Eddie slowly nodded with a dreamy smile on his face. He gladly got up from his seat, allowing the person to sit in his place. The person smiled, and Eddie felt his world brighten, as if he had been in a shadowy world and it was the first time he was walking under the glorious sun.

"You can go now," the person said in a voice that seemed melodious to Eddie.

Eddie frowned a fraction, not liking the request, and when the person noticed it, she too frowned, not expecting the resistance. But then she smiled and requested again with a smile, "Please?"

"... Okay, if you say so," nodded Eddie, still not happy. Nevertheless, he followed the request.

With Eddie gone, the person placed her chin on the back of her fair hand, which was resting on the table, and looked at Quinn, who was oblivious that Eddie had left his side, to be replaced by someone else. She raised her other hand and tapped his shoulder with one dainty finger.

Quinn, feeling the light tap, came out of his thoughts and turned. Immediately he came face-to-face with a curious Fleur Delacour. He blinked, and even though the allure wasn't affecting him, Quinn noticed it gliding over him.

"Ms. Delacour? May I ask where did the boy who sat here go?" asked Quinn, dabbing his face with a napkin.

Fleur laughed, showing him her pearly smile, "He went away."

"You mean you sent him away."

"Something like that," she confessed, "though surprisingly, it took a lot of my allure to affect him. Are all your friends like that?"

"Of course not; Eddie is just a tad bit stubborn," he then paused for a bit, "actually, if you met him in different and certain circumstances, you would've been more surprised by him."

"And what about you? Why can you resist my allure? What's the story behind that," asked the veela, placing her hand barely an inch away from Quinn's hand.

Quinn, seeing what she was doing, decided to humour her. He shifted to face her and charmingly smiled, "Hmm, maybe it's because my own charm is so strong that I'm not affected by yours."

Fleur giggled, and the world seemed to get more vivid and lively at her every movement. Those who sat around the two were now staring at Fleur with unblinking eyes.

"Maybe you're right. You're certainly very charming, Quinn," She leaned towards Quinn ever so slightly.

"Thank you for the compliment, Ms. Delacour," smiled Quinn, not pulling away and flirting back, "your beauty too has no bounds. You're absolutely stunning if you ask me."

"Aren't you quite the flatterer, Quinn?"

"It isn't flattery if it's the truth."

Across from them, Marcus stared between the two.

"Huh..."

Around the Great Hall, a certain few people from different house tables also gazed at Quinn while he chatted with a giggling Fleur.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn West - MC - The Wests… have a certain charm. Quinn West? He has an abundance of it.

Fleur Delacour - Veela, champion - This is more fun than I thought.

Minerva McGonagall - Deputy Headmaster - Doesn't yet understand the scale of Quinn's plans.

Harry Potter - Fourth Champion - In-Training.

Eddie Carmichael - Status: Allured - Wait a minute… something doesn't feel right.

FictionOnlyReader - Author - Let's have them flirt a little.

AlanL - Editor - My wish is coming true~

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

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The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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Looking around a bare room with minimal furniture and decorations made Quinn frown.

"I don't like this room," sighed Quinn, leaning against the shabby long table inside the room, "I should've asked McGonagall to allow them to be in my office."

He gazed around the room, turning his head to look everywhere, and as he turned his head, the room started to change. The walls turned cream-coloured while the ceiling shifted to a pleasing white. Starting from his feet, the floor transformed from an old marble to a smooth dark patterned wood. He pushed himself away from the shabby long table as it started to twist and shrunk into a point before enlarging out in a spiral, having transformed into a professional white marble top table. The chairs surrounding the new table also twisted and turned into black leather cantilever chairs, contrasting against the white marble.

"Yeah, that isn't going to work," he said, looking at the ceiling chandelier. With a twitch of his finger, it detached itself from the ceiling mount, shrunk to the size of a rubik's cube before flying into his pocket. From the same pocket, six MLEs flew out and strategically placed themselves in the room for appropriate lighting.

After he finished his transfigurations, Quinn nodded in satisfaction, "Now this is more like it."

Quinn heard a knock on the door. He turned to see it open, and a young girl peeked inside.

"Quinn, they're here," said the girl dressed in Hufflepuff trims.

"Ah, Ms. Dinnet, thank you," smiled Quinn at the third-year girl, "please let them in."

"No, this was the least I could do," said the girl, recalling the time when Quinn had helped her with rune supplies ten minutes before there had been a scheduled test in the Ancient Runes class.

She pushed the door completely open and stepped aside for two people (a man and woman) to enter. They were dressed in usual wizarding robes, though they did have leather gloves covering their hands and sturdy boots on their feet.

As they looked around the room, Quinn addressed the couple. "Mr. and Mrs. Ingelbee from Spintwitches Sporting Needs?"

The woman removed her eyes from the MLEs on the ceiling and looked at Quinn. "Yes. You must be Quinn West."

"That's right, please take a seat so we can get started," said Quinn and whispered a name under his breath and followed with: "Two glasses of water." Suddenly, there were two glasses of water along with a pitcher on the table.

The Ingelbee couple sat down opposite Quinn.

Mr. Ingelbee took out a parchment from his robes and placed it on the table, "According to this MagiFax, Hogwarts requires quidditch robes and gear? Usually, Professor McGonagall contacts us, but she said there wouldn't be any orders this year? So why...? Also, where is Professor McGonagall?"

"Professor won't be coming; I'm in charge," spoke Quinn, "I wrote that letter to you; I will be handling all our communication and negotiations."

"You? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"... If you say so."

"Good. Let's get started. This meeting isn't for the Hogwarts quidditch tournament. You won't be making our usual four house robes," said Quinn and smiled, "this year, there is going to be a different tournament, and we require new robes for it."

"A different tournament?" asked Mrs. Ingelbee, interested.

"Yes, a different tournament," replied Quinn, "As you all know, we're currently hosting Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Hogwarts will be hosting a quidditch tournament with students from all three schools to improve the relationship between the three schools. For that, we need new uniforms to be drafted soon. You've been a trusted partner for Hogwarts all these years, and because of that relation, Spintwitches has been our first choice."

Ingelbees' interest seemed to rise with every word that came out of Quinn's mouth.

"So you're saying, four brand new teams," counted Mrs. Ingelbee, "that makes twenty-eight new orders."

"Actually," said Quinn, his smile widening, "it's not four teams, but ten teams. That means, it won't be twenty-eight orders either..."

Mrs. Ingelbee completed Quinn's sentence for him, "Seventy new orders!"

"Yes, seventy new orders," nodded Quinn and then added another bonus, "Some might even be looking for a brand new personal gear. So there are chances that you will get new orders from them."

Ingelbees' eyes shined brighter at the prospect of new business.

"When do we start? We will have to take measurements, decide the color schemes, logos, names. There is a lot of work to do!"

Quinn gazed at the couple, who had started to talk among each other about the work they had to do.

"There is one more thing I have to say," he said. When the couple looked at him, Quinn continued, "we won't be able to pay you in money for this order."

"... What?" said Mr. Ingelbee, "What do you mean by that? If you aren't going to pay us in money, then how are we getting to pay us?"

"You— you aren't asking us to do this for free, are you? That won't be possible," added Mrs. Ingelbee, "The order is too large."

"You will be paid, just not in money," said Quinn and took out an A-4 sized envelope from his pockets and placed it in front of the couple, "but this is how I'm planning to pay Spintwitches for their services."

Mr. Ingelbee opened up the envelope, and the couple started to read the half dozen pages inside. With every page they read, their reaction moved towards higher levels of surprise and shock.

"Is this true?" asked Mrs. Ingelbee, holding the last page in her hand.

"A hundred percent true," responded Quinn, "nineteen weeks of high-level exposure. As this is a brand new and such a unique event, the level of publicity this will gain will be on another level. There are good chances that it might just be a once-in-a-lifetime event, so it's up to you if you want to take part in this. I really hope you accept, as we want to continue our partnership with you."

"We accept!" said Mr. Ingelbee, "If this is exactly what you're offering, then we will provide the robes. There won't be any problems at all!"

"Excellent," smiled Quinn and took out another envelope with more papers, "please read this contract over. You have a week to send the signed contract. We're going to start soon."

He ended the meeting with Spintwitches Sports Need.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

After the Ingelbees left, thirty minutes later, there was another knock on the conference room door.

Quinn, from his seat, looked over and saw a young boy come inside.

"Umm, Quinn, the ones you asked me to bring in are here," said the second-year.

"Mr. Garland, thank you for guiding them in; please let them in," smiled Quinn, thanking the Gryffindor boy.

The boy left and another two people came in. The door closed behind them and when Quinn saw one of the two people he flashed a genuine smile.

"Quinn, how have you been?" said one of the two men.

Quinn stood up and greeted back, "Gary, it has been a while."

Standing in front of him was Gary, the manager of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, Hogsmeade.

"No, that isn't correct," said Quinn, "you're now the Head of Silver Moon Printing MagiTech. Congratulations on the promotion, Gary. How is life treating you?"

"It has been hectic, but the work is exciting, so I guess everything is going well," said Gary. He turned to the young man beside him and introduced, "This is Ben Sapworthy. He is the new manager of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop."

Quinn shook hands with the newly introduced man. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Sapworthy. With Gary gone from Hogsmeade, I'll be seeing you from now on."

"Of-Of course, Mr. West. I-I will make sure that you face no problem," stuttered Ben in the face of Quinn West. "P-Please call me, Ben."

Quinn glanced at Gary. "You didn't say anything to him?"

"Not really," grinned Gary, "I thought this would be more fun. I went through it, too, so him doing the same is fair."

Quinn laughed before addressing the new manager. "Ben, you don't have to be formal with me. As long as I'm inside Hogwarts, treat me just like any other customer and not a West. What we have planned for today here inside Hogwarts doesn't have a connection to the Wests. I will act and pay like any other customer."

Ben nodded, but his nervousness didn't decrease one bit.

"All right, sit down. Let's get to work."

Once again, Quinn sat down to discuss details about the quidditch tournament.

"You read the letter I sent you, right?" asked Quinn.

"I did," answered Gary, "from what I could see, it's an ambitious project."

"If I'm going to do something, then I'll do it as perfectly as I can," said Quinn, "Everything, from the smallest details to the biggest spotlight. Everything will be as great as I can achieve with what I've been given."

"So, what are you looking for?"

"Team banners and printed merchandise, sponsor banners, entry tickets, posters for advertisement," said Quinn listing things he wanted from the printers. "Of course, everything will be in colour. From the smallest pamphlet to the biggest of the banners, every single thing."

"The plan to release the Lunar developer is still on next year," said Gary, knowing that February was the launch. "but given that you're the creator, I got orders to allow the use of the formula for this one."

"You created the Lunar developer?!" blurted Ben. Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop had officially shifted under the management of Silver Moon Printing MagiTech; as such, he knew about the existence of the Lunar developer.

"Yes, I did," nodded Quinn in answer, "but keep it a secret. This information is to be kept restricted even after the launch. I don't want it to go out just yet."

"O-Okay!" The new manager got even more nervous.

"So we're going to use this tournament as a promotion," said Gary, looking over the documents that Quinn had just pushed over the table.

"Exactly, the promotion is going to be the payment," replied Quinn, "with the Triwizard Tournament being hosted here, the amount of eyes on the quidditch tournament is going to be massive. This might as well be the best promotion for the Silver Moon Printing MagiTech— at least in the countries that send their students to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang."

Gary stayed silent as he continued to read the documents provided by Quinn. While he was given green light to use the Lunar developer for Quinn's quidditch tournament, Gary had been explicitly ordered that, should Quinn's plan wasn't inviting enough, he was to reject the proposition.

Before Quinn contacted them with the quidditch plan, Silver Moon had solid and well-defined strategies for the unveiling and promotion of Lunar developer. If Gary was to green-light the use of Lunar developer here, he needed to make the right decision, as bad marketing could harm the initial release and consequently, the business altogether.

After a solid minute of thinking, Gary announced his verdict, "The name of Silver Moon will be present on everything we print. We also want a banner during the events. Whoever hosts the games will explicitly announce the company name and the product. If you can do that, we have a deal."

Quinn stared at Gary, who stared back.

"The name on the prints will be subtle. I don't want the name sticking out, disrupting the aesthetics of the banners" said Quinn before adding, "If you can provide extensive animation on banners, I can allow a couple seconds of promotion on each banner. Of course, everything will be on a loop."

"Hmm… Extensive animations can be expensive," commented Gary. He thought about whether he had the budget before nodding, "Okay, we can animate a select few banners. I will leave the choice of banners to you."

"Great. Anything else?" asked Quinn. Gary shook his head, so Quinn continued, "All right, I will send the updated contract to you by tomorrow."

He then turned to Ben and said, "The last batch of English A.I.D. cards that Gary sent me are about to run out, so I will need another batch soon. Please prepare one for me."

Ben nervously nodded and briefly glanced at Gary.

"Don't worry," chuckled Gary, "he is the one who prepared the French and Russian cards. The new batch will have the same quality that you've been getting."

Quinn looked at Ben and spoke, "Gary gave you his endorsement; that means something to me, Ben. I will be looking forward to working with you."

He extended his hand towards Ben, who grabbed it with both his hands, shaking it profusely.

With that, Quinn's meeting with Silver Moon Printing MagiTech ended with his promotional needs procured.

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- (Scene Break) -

.

"What does Quinn West want from us?"

Quinn sat on a tiny little low ground stool with his knees bent in front of his chest, looking at the tens of bulging, tennis-sized pairs of eyes that had oversized heads with bat-like ears.

"I want help with food," said Quinn, the Hogwarts house-elves.

"We have pie, chicken, vegetables, pumpkin juice," said a house-elf, "No student be hungry. How much want?"

Quinn chuckled and shook his head, "I don't want food for me. I want meals for people from outside Hogwarts."

"... We elves no do that. Food only for Hogywarts student."

Quinn took out a parchment sheet from his pocket and handed it to the leading elf.

"Professor McGonagall has given me permission."

The old elf read the parchment, and indeed the house-elves were allowed to accept Quinn's request. Seeing the permission, the elves became utterly willing to help a student out.

"How much food? Ten, thirty, hundred?"

Quinn moved his eyes across the house-elves and answered, "One thousand."

There was a wave of murmurs among the house-elves as they discussed among themselves.

"T-Thousand can't do. Too much."

"I don't need it every day, just once a week," said Quinn.

"One day too much. Castle work won't complete," said a girl house-elf.

Over a hundred house-elves worked hard to keep the enormous castle clean, but if they took Quinn's task, their regular tasks would be incomplete, causing students problems.

Quinn realized that and was prepared to turn the willingness into his corner. "I can give you the best wine-making equipment if you do this for me."

At once, all house-elf floppy ears jerked up in attention. If there was one personal thing that all house-elves loved to do, it was making wine. Their wine was famous all around the world because of its quality. Even George's wine cellar was predominantly filled with elf wines.

"Wine tools?"

"Fermenters, carboys, barrels of any wood, canes, and tubes... everything you need," said Quinn.

"Give time," said the leading elf, and he shouted: "Meeting!"

The elves all around the kitchen left their stations and assembled in a giant hurdle. After talking for a while, they all turned to Quinn, and the leading elf said.

"We will do it."

Quinn grinned at that.

The food and beverages were secured.

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- (Scene Break) -

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For three days, Quinn continued to meet different vendors and suppliers for his needs. And eventually, on the third day, the time to meet with the final party came.

And for this final party, Quinn personally went to receive them. He stood at the bridge that connected the castle to the area outside the Hogwarts ground. An apparition pop was just outside the Hogwarts boundary, near the entrance that connected Hogsmeade and Hogwarts alerted Quinn of the last merchant's arrival.

"Welcome," greeted Quinn. He pointed at the castle behind him and asked, "Do you like it?"

"So this is it, huh. Well, it looks grand, all right."

"Oh, come on. You can say more than that," said Quinn.

"I'll say more when we get inside," she smiled.

In front of Quinn stood a beautiful young woman with waist-length, jet black hair and stone grey eyes that shone with intelligence.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Lia."

The final merchant was the direct representative of the business giant, Lia West.

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn West - MC - Meetings. More meetings. Some more meetings.

Ingelbees - Spintwitches Sporting Needs - The quidditch supply couple.

Gary - Got a promotion - New Head of Silver Moon Printing MagiTech.

Ben Sapworthy - Nervous to the point of sweating - New manager of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

Hogwarts house elves - Food committee established - Drink most of their wine on their own.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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The West siblings were walking through the Hogwarts corridors. Quinn showed Lia all his favorite spots.

"From what I've heard from others, they'll usually spend time in a conference room," commented Lia, "and not roaming the halls. Not that I'm complaining; this is a good tour. I always wanted to see where grandfather, Ms. Rosey, Uncle Elliot and you studied."

"You already know how the meetings go?"

"70% of the people you met were our subsidiaries," said Lia, "I asked them how it went. I've to say the deals you gave them could've been more profitable to us. Those guys accepted anything you threw at them. I wonder how the deals would've gone if they didn't know your name."

"Don't say that," chuckled Quinn, "Gary drove a hard bargain. He didn't go easy at all. For a second, I thought he was going to reject my proposal. Imagine how awkward it would've been for both of us, knowing that I made the Lunar developer."

"He was the only one who followed the instructions properly," she said. "But yes, if he had rejected you, that would've been pretty awkward."

"Well, can't say that I didn't take advantage of that," smiled Quinn, "Originally, I was only going to use the 50% of funds from our business, but the plans were coming short with absolutely zero funding, so I had to up that percentage by 20%."

"I should've just come myself for all of them."

"Are you trying to make me fail?"

"Not really, just wanted to have some fun," chuckled Lia.

"Yeah, that doesn't sound fun to me at all," said Quinn, deadpanning.

The two were making their way towards Quinn's A.I.D. office and had just made a turn… when they came across a familiar pair of girls. Lia recognized them immediately and greeted them before Quinn or the girls could say anything,

"I remember you two. Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass, right?"

The bubbly brunette and the usually stoic blonde stilled in their spots, stunned to see an unexpected face in front of them. It took them both a second to recognize Lia, but with Quinn standing beside her, the two girls soon realized who the young woman was.

"You're... Quinn's sister, Lia, if I remember correctly," started Tracey, "Yeah! I remember now, we met at King's Cross."

"You remember me, aren't you nice," smiled Lia. The both smiled back.

"What are you doing here?" asked Daphne, eyeing Quinn.

"Quinn invited me," answered Lia, "I have some business with him. Currently, he is breaking the rules by giving me a tour of the castle. Well, he has always been a naughty child." She sighed at the end, as if she had given up hope.

"And what about it?! I didn't hear you complaining," rebuked Quinn.

"If we get questioned, I'm not the one getting into trouble: you're the one who brought me here; I'm just tagging along," said Lia grinning at her brother, adamant about embarrassing him in front of his friends.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Lia looked at the Slytherin girls. She had something to ask.

"It's good that I came across you two. You two seem to know him—" she ruffled Quinn's hair just to get her hand swatted away "—he doesn't tell us about school much at home. How does he act here? I hope he doesn't remain cooped up in that office all day."

"There is one thing most here at Hogwarts know," said Daphne. There was a factoid that most students knew, "If you want to find Quinn West, then he will either be at his office or at the Great Hall. If he isn't at one of these places, then you can forget about seeing him at all." She gave Quinn an observant glance as she continued, "No one knows where he goes, but even the Weasley twins —and they know the castle very well— know where he disappears to."

"I heard that! I heard that from Marcus! What's with this school-wide betting pool to see if the Weasley twins are able to find where I go!" said Quinn, annoyed, "Do you know how annoying it's to get tailed for an entire month! And those guys became increasingly shameless by the end of the month; they straight out tried to tag along me. No attempt to even hide themselves from me."

Listening to Quinn's mini-rant with his arms crossed made Lia and Tracey giggle and even made Daphne crack a smile.

"Oh! I've something interesting," said Tracey, clapping her hands once.

"What is it?" prompted Lia excitedly.

"There have been rumors, or should I say, definite news, that the French champion has taken a liking to Quinn," revealed Tracey. She coyly snickered behind her hand.

Daphne nodded. The memory of Quinn laughing with Fleur at the Ravenclaw entrance came to mind.

"The French champion?" asked Lia, a hum in her tone, "From what I've heard, isn't she a Veela?" She glanced at Quinn, "You say that she likes him... hmm. Did you do something?"

"... What? I didn't do anything," said Quinn defending himself against... "Wait! I shouldn't be explaining myself. Ms. Delacour and I simply got along well and became friends quickly."

"... Ms. Delacour," repeated Tracey, "hmm... it seems the news was a little exaggerated."

Daphne, too, agreed with a nod, noticing that he still said her last name. It seemed that the Veela hadn't ensnared Quinn yet.

"Huh? What do you mean?" asked Quinn, confused.

"It's nothing," replied Lia, once again ruffling her brother's hair, "don't worry your pretty little head about it."

He swatted her hand once again. "My head is not little... I guess it's pretty; I will give you that."

Eventually, the West siblings went on their way without the Slytherin Duo to continue their journey towards Quinn's A.I.D. office. As they walked away, Lia turned her head to gaze at Daphne's back. She turned back to the front and a smile bloomed on her face. Quinn, walking by her side, looked at his sister, who had started to hum a happy tune.

"What's with you?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh nothing~," she replied.

The sibling duo reached the grand staircase. The moving staircase surprised Lia as she craned her neck up to look at the stairs upon stairs connecting seven above-the-ground floors of Hogwarts.

"You navigate this every day?" asked Lia, "Also, is the movements random?"

"Every student and faculty member at Hogwarts navigate these stairs every day," answered Quinn, "the movement of the stairs might seem random, but they are far from it. The staircases are charmed to detect the pattern of students' movements throughout the day. With the students following timetables, by the end of the first week, the pattern changes such that students will find the stairs just at the right place at the right time."

"Come on, let's go," said Quinn, stepping onto a flight of stairs, pulling Lia along with him. "W-Wait, wait," exclaimed Lia, grabbing onto Quinn and the railing just in time for the staircase to start moving.

"What floor is your office on?" asked Lia. Being it her first time, she wasn't thrilled about being on the continuously moving grand staircase.

"Fifth floor," he answered.

"Ugh!"

After two floors of Lia's complaints, she quickly got used to the moving stairs, and soon she acted as if she had been a part of Hogwarts for years. She looked around the stairs with curiosity. Then, she spotted a familiar face.

"Quinn, isn't that Eddie?" she asked, pointing at a staircase that set itself at a floor.

Quinn turned his head to see Eddie pulling along a Ravenclaw with Eddie's arm around his shoulders. "... Yeah."

"We should go greet him," said Lia and at once started to move up the staircase.

"Wait, we can go meet him later!" said Quinn trying to stop Lia, but unfortunately, Lia was already running upstairs, and their staircase was moving to the same stop that Eddie had gotten off at.

He clicked his tongue when Lia stepped onto the floor. He knew what would happen, and it could be seen utterly opposite to what it was without context. Skipping steps while climbing the stairs, Quinn ran after his sister to ensure she didn't misunderstand.

Lia turned around the corner and saw Eddie standing face to face with another student. She was about to call out to him, but the words stuck in her throat when she was pulled back.

"What are you doing?!" asked Lia, frowning at her brother.

Quinn placed a finger on his lips and shushed her, "Stay quiet. Eddie is going to do something serious."

Lia felt confused at the vague sentence and was about to ask for an explanation when she heard a dull thud. She turned to look around the corner and saw Eddie grabbing the other student's collar, twisting it up while the student was pushed against a wall, looking uncomfortable.

She blinked in surprise at the sudden turn of events and glanced at Quinn, but he looked at the scene as if it was something commonplace.

Straining her ears, she picked up their conversation as Eddie spoke,

"... do that again, and you will regret it," said the Irish man, "You and I live in the same dormitory, so if I catch you the next time, I'll come to your room at night while you're sleeping…"

She saw the threatened student gulp in apprehension.

"... you won't like me very much when you wake up the next day," continued Eddie, "so take this as the last warning, If I hear those words out of your mouth again, it won't be a happy experience... Quinn is very particular about this, so believe me when I say he will tag along next time. Dipshit."

Eddie pulled the guy forward before pushing him back into the wall once again. He grabbed his broom, which he had brought along, and stepped over a big window ledge, jumping out with his broom underneath him, flying away from the scene.

"What?" uttered Lia, but Quinn pulled her away, and soon they were back on a moving staircase. Lia focused on Quinn and asked, "What was that? Why did Eddie say that next time you'll tag along? What was he doing?"

"You remember Luna?" sighed Quinn.

Lia nodded.

"Well, Luna is a unique person. Eccentric and quirky are the closest adjectives I can think of to describe her. She is a charming person when you get to know her, but her first impression isn't great; most of the time, she comes out as weird," he sighed before his eye twitched in annoyance, "Just because she doesn't say anything, some idiots try to have fun bullying her. Eddie Marcus and I have repeatedly told people not to call her that, but we scraped the request and turned to warnings when things didn't improve. If they mistreat her, we will sometimes return the favor by making them not so comfortable."

Lia stared at her brother. He rarely showed actual displeasure in others' presence, preferring to smile and laugh.

"... I would like to meet Luna once more. She has become something akin to a little sister to you, it seems," she said and continued with a Cheshire grin, "I would like to meet my new little sister as soon as possible."

"She isn't—!" but he stopped thinking it through. His relationship with Luna had indeed grown to be like a brother-sister relation.

"I guess you can say that," he sighed before glancing at her, "you can meet Luna right now. She's in the office."

"Oh, my, isn't that lucky," she smiled.

"Don't coddle her."

"I won't."

"Really?"

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- (Scene Break) -

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Finally, the siblings reached the AID office, and seeing the door, Lia read the plaque out loud, "773H? What does that mean?"

"It's not a secret, but I can't tell you," he smiled, "anyone who wants the answer will have to find it on their own."

Lia stared at the plaque and memorized the alpha-numerical wanting to solve it later.

Quinn turned the doorknob and opened the door to his office, entering inside while keeping the door open for Lia. "Enter the place where problems get solved, and questions get answered."

Lia stepped inside, and the office interior greeted her. Even just with a single look, she could tell that this was designed and built by Quinn. Everything inside the office exuded her brother's craftsmanship. Glancing at the top, she could see MLE attached to the ceiling. She realized that she stood in the birthplace of Quinn's inventions.

"You copied grandfather's desk," she commented, tracing a finger over the table, "same wood, color, and even the design is similar."

"I always liked the table," he smiled, "when I got enough funds to get a new one, I bought the same wood and materials to build my own, though I did add my own touch and flair to it."

"You said that Luna was inside, but I can't see her here," asked Lia.

Quinn pointed at the red door in the glass wall. "Luna! please come out; we have a guest."

"What's inside there?"

"My workshop."

The red door opened up slowly, and from inside stepped out barefoot. With her hair weirdly curly today, Luna looked at Quinn with a half dreamy-half sleepy look in her eyes.

"Guest?" she asked.

Quinn jutted his chin towards the size. Luna turned her eyes towards Lia and tilted her head. She hadn't seen the young woman in Hogwarts, and this confused her, but then, slowly, recognition dawned on her.

"Sister," she said, stepping towards Lia, "You're Quinn's sister, Lia."

"I am," replied Lia before asking, "why is your hair like this?"

"Because of Quinn," replied Luna.

When Lia looked at Quinn, he raised his hands: "Again, I didn't do anything." He turned to Luna and asked, "What did I do?"

"The potion to grow hair without using Pechimin didn't work, and it poofed in my face," she played with her hair, "I tried it three more times, but it still didn't work, and with each time, my hair got more like this."

He nodded and walked near her. Taking out her fake wand, Quinn performed magic to fix her hair, turning her hair back to normal.

"What did you use instead of Pechimin?" he asked.

"Livèche de Chagrin," replied Luna

"That isn't going to work." Lia chimed in. "Livèche de Chagrin is too volatile. It won't work with human hair. Try using Bechiraway instead; it's much more gentle and has the advantage of being a great blending agent."

Quinn smiled and lightly clapped. His sister was right on point. If Luna asked him for the answer, he would've given the same solution and reason.

Luna stood still for a moment before silently walking back the workshop to go brew another batch of potion.

"What happened?" asked Lia.

Quinn cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know if it's my fault, but ever since I started teaching her, whenever she gets an answer to the problems I give her, she drops everything and starts working on them. At times, she walks away mid-eating just so that she could try out a charm."

Lia looked at Quinn and pointed out something. "Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he laughed, "her behavior at these moments makes me really proud... Wit beyond measure, the man's greatest treasure. Though Luna did get in trouble trying to get out of a Potions class because she thought she had the answer."

"We should probably leave," he continued, "I don't want to disturb her while she is concentrating."

"Already? But we just got here," whined Lia.

"How about we go meet Madame Maxime. I'm sure she would be surprised to meet you."

"Oh! That's a good idea! Let's go!"

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- (Scene Break) -

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The half-giant, Olympe Maxime, was sitting in one of the Hogwarts lawns. The Beauxbatons carriage was parked behind her. She picked up a very large teacup from the garden table beside her and took a sip while reading a French newspaper through thin-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

Today was a rare free day for her. With the first task getting progressively closer, she had been swamped with work, so having a day without a full schedule felt great. She decided not to do anything and simply relax outside and catch up on what was going on in her homeland.

She allowed her students to roam the castle without her escorting them. All of her students, without fail, took the chance and ran away to explore the castle. After living on Hogwarts grounds, Maxime had decided that the school was safe enough for her students.

"The Ministry is adding unnecessary steps to their hiring process," she sighed, "Can't they see that if they keep doing this, it will get difficult for them to hire good candidates."

"Isn't that great? This way, I will be able to get more people into my business."

Maxime looked up from her newspaper to look at the person who commented, and her eyes widened comically.

"Lia?!" said the half-giantess, standing up from her chair.

"Good morning, Professor," smiled her student, "you look like you're enjoying your Saturday."

"What are you doing here, child?"

"I had some business with my brother," said Lia, and Maxime looked at the boy standing two steps behind his sister.

"Business?"

"Yes, I'm here regarding the quidditch tournament."

"Ah, yes," nodded Maxime, recalling her talk with Dumbledore, "I didn't expect you two to come here. Isn't it just a simple school tournament?"

"Oh, no," chuckled Lia, "He has overdone it. The tournament is going to be something special."

Just when the student and teacher were catching up, they heard a voice call out.

"Headmistress?"

Lia and Maxime turned their heads to see a silver blonde standing there looking at them.

"Oh!" smiled Maxime and beckoned the girl forward, "Fleur, come here, you know Lia West. She has dropped by. Lia, this is our champion, Fleur Delacour."

Lia West and Fleur Delacour met eyes, and Quinn, standing at a distance, sneezed lightly.

"Am I getting a cold?"

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Quinn West - MC - Something is off... I just can't tell what it is.

Lia West - Big sis - This place sure is big...

Tracey Davis - Rumour enthusiast - Wait, wait, wait, let's analyse this.

Daphne Greengrass - ... - *Nod* *Nod* *Nod*

Luna Lovegood - Student of Magic - The researcher inside her is growing.

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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"Ah, Fleur, dear. You remember Lia West, right" called Maxime, beckoning the champion Veela towards her.

"Yes, headmistress," nodded Fleur. Looking at Lia, who she had only seen twice or thrice from a distance so closely made the Veela, for once, a little conscious of herself.

It wasn't beauty that made Fleur uncomfortable; she was a Veela, only other Veelas and those from the Succubus race could match her in terms of beauty. No, Fleur felt that, except for physical beauty, Lia West was someone superior to her. Her position, way of dressing, and even presence, seemed to be lacking in front of her. Even her latest accomplishment as a Triwizard champion seemed pale in the face of Lia West.

"Congratulations on making it a champion, Fleur," said Lia in French. She didn't have her brother's habit of addressing others by their last name. "I heard you've already become friends with my baby brother."

Fleur had been so focused on Lia that she overlooked Quinn, who was standing at a distance, looking at the serene lake.

"Yes, Quinn has been most helpful," said Fleur, "recently, he has been taking time to show us around the castle."

"What? So it wasn't special. I feel hurt, brother mine."

"Oh, stop it," sighed Quinn. He was used to this. This sister of his was adamant about quipping jokes whenever she saw an opening.

"Fleur, back me up, would you?" said Lia. "At my home, all have attended Hogwarts. I alone went to Beauxbatons, and whenever I try to say that our school is better, they all shut me down, saying that Hogwarts is better. Don't you think that ours is better?"

"Beauxbatons is better, no doubt about it," replied Fleur instantly.

"Of course, that was never even a question," added Maxime.

The three ladies looked at Quinn, daring him to say anything against their school. Quinn read the room and didn't reply, though inside he did think, 'We have the Room of Requirements, Absolute Zero, a Sin vault, a Kraken, Water vault, Forbidden Forest. . .' he realized that only one(possibly two) of those things were safe, '. . . whatever it's better.'

"Yeah, take that," smirked Lia, asserting her newly found dominance.

He just gave her an eye roll.

Lia and Maxime decided to catch up, and as they talked, Fleur walked beside Quinn.

"Good morning, Ms. Delacour," greeted Quinn, "May I ask why are you here alone with your schoolmates exploring the castle?"

"It's nothing," she replied, and Quinn noticed the quick and short reply.

"Apologies if I'm wrong, but I did feel some tension between you and the rest of the group when we went on their castle tours."

The French champion stayed silent for a brief moment before speaking up, "I can't control my allure; it sometimes gets in the way."

"Are you sure? It didn't seem like that when we first met," commented Quinn giving her a side glance.

The girl didn't look abashed at all. "Letting it out isn't difficult. Letting out our Allure is the easiest thing for a Veela. It's keeping the Allure hidden and restrained that gives me trouble." She sighed before continuing, "Veelas my age already have the allure completely under control, but I just can't seem to get it under control."

The fact that the boy beside her could shrug of her Allure on full force made her comfortable enough to talk about her problem. She had tried to tell this problem to other people, but all of them just treated it like an excuse or turn into a blubbering fool.

"Hmm, what does your mother say?"

"She tells me that I should practice," she sighed, "it has been getting better, but I still have a long way to go."

Fleur glanced at Quinn, and seeing that the other two were still talking, she asked a question that Quinn had evaded every time she had brought it up.

"Why can you ignore my Allure so well? Do you have someone you like so much that it doesn't affect you?"

There were two ways non-magical ways by which one could ignore the effects of Allure. The first was to have an iron will to brute force shake away the impact of Allure. The second was to be wholeheartedly in love with someone so that the Allure never attracted them.

"Love? I don't think so," said Quinn nonchalantly, "I just can, so I do. Nothing more, nothing less."

Will and Love were to non-magical ways. Magical methods like occlumency were also effective against Allure. Quinn had used a mix of will and assimilation to become indifferent to Allure.

"Nothing much. . . most people wouldn't term it as nothing much," said Fleur.

Quinn shrugged in response. He couldn't say that he had done some crazy stuff to get to this point.

"I wonder if you would be able to shrug off my mother and grandmother's Allure. Their Allure is much more potent than mine, especially my grandmothers'," wondered Fleur aloud.

"Yes, I have read about that. The older a Veela gets, the more potent their Allure gets," said Quinn, "Your grandmother's Allure must be quite strong for her hair to be able to be used in your wand. I would love to sit down with her to ask some questions."

"Hmm, if you ever come to France, I will see if I can set up a meeting with her. She usually doesn't meet with people outside of the coven."

"Heh," a chuckle escaped Quinn, "same with my grandfather. He also doesn't meet people out of a select group of people."

As the two students talked, Lia and Maxime were gazing at them.

"Your brother is quite different from you," commented Maxime.

"How so?" asked Lia.

"He's a little cold."

"That doesn't sound right," said Lia quirking her brow, "my brother's entire thing here in Hogwarts is networking and communication."

"Not like that; he networks just fine," replied the headmistress, "there is something about you that makes people warm up to you instantly. Unlike you, your brother keeps people at a distance. Do you know he didn't give his family name when meeting me?"

"My brother is wiser than me when I was his age," claimed Lia, "My identity was revealed pretty quickly while I was in school; you remember it, right?"

"I do," nodded Maxime, "you were swamped for an entire year before it somewhat died down."

"Yeah, I was an idiot in those days," she sighed, "my brother, on the other hand, has somehow made sure that people don't know about our family. He has hidden that behind his AID service. People don't see beyond it. Ugh, I should've done something like that. Simply playing quidditch would've done the job."

"From the looks of it, he is going to join the business when he graduates."

"Oh no," chuckled Lia, "my brother is more interested in magic. Grandfather and all of us in the family already know about it. The higher-ups in the business know that they won't be seeing Quinn West as much as they see me."

"A child of West not going into business? That's rare, isn't it?"

"Money, Wisdom, Magic," stated Lia, the three qualities of the West house, "the Wests along the ages have leaned towards the first two qualities, Quinn leans towards magic and wisdom. He takes money as if it's something fun and game."

Lia stared at her brother, talking to Fleur, and asked, "Fleur Delacour, what can you tell me about her?"

Maxime glanced at her former student and smiled, "Asking for your brother? Worried that he will be charmed by a Veela?"

"While I'm confident in my brother's occlumency, there is nothing wrong about keeping tabs," shrugged the big sister, "He is still a kid. I'm just worried that he will be taken by her looks and let her guard down."

"It's fine; she isn't like that," assured Maxime, "she can't control her Allure well. That makes it difficult for her to make friends. None of those few friends made it in the delegation. There are some friendlies, but they are acquaintances at best."

"Hmm, that's sad," but there wasn't a matching expression on Lia's face. A sad story wasn't enough to let down her worries. "Well, whatever, he will probably be fine, but if something does happen, I can always give them a visit. Delacour, was it?"

Lia dove into her mindscape and searched for some information on the last name. "Hmm, oh my, Bureau de la Justice Magique with a background in Bureau des Aurors. That's impressive. Her father is Pierre Delacour, correct?"

". . . Yes," sighed Maxime. She was slightly amazed Lia had that level of information filed in her mind.

"Great, I can work with that," nodded Lia, making a mental note to find more information about the man.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Quinn and Lia felt behind the Beauxbatons camp and had made their way into the quidditch stadium. They sat in an upper deck of the stands, overlooking the green pitch untouched from flyers skidding and crashing down during a game.

In the silence of just the two of them being there, Li asked, "So this is going to be the construction site?"

"Yeah, the stands are too small for my likings. I need you to make it bigger," answered Quinn.

"How many people are you planning to invite to the games?"

"Let's see. . . at least six times the current capacity," answered Quinn, "I think that's just the right amount of people who will come down to Hogwarts. Of course, I added a healthy amount of error margin."

"Hmm, I see, I see," said Lia humming, "well, reconstruction isn't going to be difficult. Given a week or two, I can turn it to your likings."

"I don't want a complete remodel," spoke Quinn in explanation, "I want this stadium to return to this state after my tournament closes by the end of this year."

"Really, why?" asked Lia. "Isn't having a bigger stadium better for the school?"

"If we planned to invite people to the school, then it would've been better," answered Quinn with a shake of his head, "but Hogwarts quidditch house cup is for the students and no one else. Occasionally, parents show up, but other than that, the audience is just students. I don't want to blow up the seating capacity just to be stuck with a stadium that looks empty at every game. It's not good for morale."

"Ah, the makes sense."

"So, make temporary adjustments that can stand for the entire year and yet can be easily removed," then he continued with a juicy piece of information, "the third task is going to be a magical maze. As such, this stadium is going to be broken down to make space for the said maze. My tournament is set to end before the third and final task with ample time to grow the maze."

"A magical maze, you say. . . well, it's not going to be a problem to build the stadium," she said.

"I've already sent you the design briefs. I'm not an architect, so you can make the necessary adjustments, but I want the stadium to look something close to my image. The banners and all will be designed to maximize the real estate I will have in the new stadium."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of everything," said Lia, "you just need to make sure that our construction firm gets enough exposure in terms of advertisement."

"That will be taken care of, no problem."

"Good, let's shake on it," she said, and the siblings exchanged a handshake to seal the deal.

"Now that we're done, I wanted to ask," said Lia, "why are you doing all of this? Professor Maxime told me that the justification you gave for starting this tournament was international relations, but do tell me the real reason behind all of this."

"Who says there is another motive except for international relations," grinned Quinn, "we of all know how vital international relations are. Almost all of our business abroad is built on positive interaction with the ministries and local people."

"Okay, and?" said Lia, not buying it.

". . . I wanted to do something different this year," answered Quinn, "the regular AID work had gotten repetitive, same people with same problems year after year, all year long. So when the headmaster announced the Tri-wizard tournament and with it the cancellation of the quidditch cup, I decided to work on it. At first, it wasn't going to be this big, but it had reached this stage by the time I pitched it to my professor. Other than that, Eddie had been training very hard for the quidditch season this year, so I had to do something that won't waste his year. I'm sure if this wasn't happening, he would've dropped quidditch and moved onto doing something else without getting a closure of sorts about what he had trained for an entire year."

"Aren't you a nice friend," said Lia poking Quinn's cheek with a cheeky smile, "just don't overwork yourself, okay?"

"Yes, mum," replied Quinn rolling his eyes.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man," returned Lia, playing on with it.

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- (Scene Break) -

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After a couple of hours in Hogwarts, it was time for Lia to leave the premises. Both she and Quinn were busy people with their own commitments and needed to get on with their day.

As they moved towards the castle entrance, Quinn heard a voice call out to him,

"Mr. West."

The pair of siblings paused and turned their heads to look towards the source of the voice to see the headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.

He was tall, thin, and old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He wore long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles sitting on his nose.

"Headmaster," greeted Quinn.

Dumbledore walked to them with a smile on his face. "I heard that your sister was coming by today, so I had to take this chance to meet the family of the smartest student in the castle. I went to the assigned room, but it seemed you didn't use it today."

"The smartest student; Headmaster, you flatter me," said Quinn continuing the conversation while inside thinking what Dumbledore meant.

"You must be Lia West," said Dumbledore observing the elder child of the Wests.

"Yes, and you're Albus Dumbledore," said Lia, engaging in conversation with the widely famous man. "I've heard a lot about you, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"All good, I hope," smiled Dumbledore beneath his beard.

"Indeed, your reputation precedes you," said Lia putting on a smile. She knew the most famous man in all of magical Britain, along with magical communities all around Europe.

While Lia hadn't been given the talk about being vigilant of Albus Dumbledore as Quinn had gotten, but Lia knew an anomaly when she saw one. For a person of his position, Albus Dumbledore had too much of a positive image. Except for the occasional scathing article from Rita Skeeter, Dumbledore was as clean as a whistle. Even the businesses owned by Wests weren't as clean as Dumbledore.

"Were you leaving?" asked Dumbledore, seeing that they were towards the gate.

"Yes, I came here to see the construction site for the quidditch tournament," replied Lia, "from the looks of it, it's going to be an exciting year at Hogwarts; first Tri-wizard and now this. A lot of eyes on the school."

Dumbledore glanced at Quinn, who stood beside his sister with a small smile on his face, the same smile that he had seen in his office, "With how things are proceeding, it's going to be bigger than I expected."

"The moment you read out Harry Potter's name as champion, the attention that the Tri-wizard tournament gained rose to another level, headmaster," commented Quinn.

"That's an understatement, Mr. West," sighed Dumbledore. Then he smiled as he spoke towards Quinn, "I was surprised by your initiative, Mr. West. In all my years at Hogwarts, I haven't seen a student initiative of this magnitude. This is going to be the first of its kind."

"You can't take quidditch out of Hogwarts," laughed Quinn, "I just made things more interesting. This year's theme is international relations, after all."

Dumbledore nodded. "I was skeptical at first, but when you started to send me those detailed progress documents, I couldn't say anything, could I?"

"The need to report the progress arose when Professor McGonagall started to look anxious every time we met. I had to do something to ease her worries."

"Mr. West, if you pull this off, you'll get a unanimous vote Special Award for Service from the Board of Governors," said Dumbledore smiling.

"Isn't that great, Quinn," beamed Lia, happy for the recognition of her brother's hard work.

"It is," nodded Quinn humbly.

Three people had gotten the reward in the history of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle for his alleged capture of the student (Hagrid) who had opened the Chamber of Secrets. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley for defeating Tom Riddle and the Serpent of Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets; the information about Tom Riddle was omitted from the record.

Dumbledore faced Lia and asked, "Would you be coming to the games, Ms. West?"

"If I'm free, I would definitely be here," answered Lia with a smile, "it's my baby brother's big project, after all."

Quinn just smiled in response.

"What about your grandfather?" asked Dumbledore, getting to the point, "Will he come? I would love to meet him. I haven't met him in a long time and would like to catch up."

"I can't comment on his behalf," answered Lia, "if he's free, our grandfather will definitely come to every game. Unfortunately, he has been busy lately," George was busy working on Quinn's latest products, "though I will relay your desire to meet him to grandfather."

"That would be much appreciated."

"It was nice talking to you, headmaster Dumbledore, but I must take my leave," said Lia ending the conversation.

"Of course, of course," said Dumbledore and then spoke to Quinn, "Mr. West, please escort your sister out."

"Yes, of course," said Quinn, and the Wests exited the castle, leaving behind Dumbledore alone.

When they reached the boundary, Lia asked. "Why do you think he wants to meet grandfather?"

"Probably about some political agenda; looking for his support," replied Quinn, "tell grandfather, he will decide if he wants to meet Dumbledore. Though if he does come to the games, I'm sure Dumbledore will corner him for a talk."

"Well, I'm sure grandfather will handle himself," shrugged Lia.

"No doubt, no doubt."

. . .

As Quinn returned to the castle, he thought about going to the Room of Requirements to get in a workout. When he entered the castle, he was surprised and came to a stop.

"Headmaster?"

Dumbledore turned his gaze away from the ceiling to Quinn, and with a twinkle in his eyes, he spoke.

"Walk with me, Mr. West."

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn West - MC - Aren't we meeting too many people today?

Lia West - Elder sister - She still has that protectiveness for Quinn.

Fleur Delacour - Poor control over Allure - Wants Quinn to meet her grandmother.

Olympe Maxime - Headmistress - Beauxbatons is better.

Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster - Spotted two Wests in the wild.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

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-*-*-*-*-*-

.

"Walk with me, Mr. West."

Quinn's mind sharpened when he heard the headmaster. His paranoia regarding Albus Dumbledore was screaming at him that this wasn't a simple social headmaster-student walk through the halls.

"Of course, headmaster," said Quinn. Using an excuse to avoid the talk wasn't going to work, and he himself was curious about what Dumbledore wanted to talk about.

Quinn fell into step beside Dumbledore, and both started to stroll through the hallways.

"Mr. West, you recall the Age line that I cast around the goblet of fire to keep the younger students out?" asked Dumbledore.

"I do; a fascinating ward. Fitting for putting down restrictions," replied Quinn and glanced sideways towards the caster. "though it failed to keep Mr. Potter out of the tournament."

"A most unfortunate event," sighed Dumbledore, "Mr. Potter is way too young and inexperienced to be entering the Tri-wizard tournament." He then looked at Quinn and asked, "From your words, it seems that you don't think that Mr. Potter entered his name in the goblet."

"Just as you said, headmaster, Mr. Potter is inexperienced — in magic — to find out a way to bypass the Age line placed by someone of your level," stated Quinn, "I doubt any student, not of age, would have been able to break your Age line."

"Ho," smiled Dumbledore, "you think so? By chance, did you garner a close look at the ward?"

Quinn held back the impulse to stare up at Dumbledore. "I observed it from a distance. There were too many people at the boundary for me to observe it closely in comfort."

"Is that so," hummed the headmaster, "I'm sure you could have managed something. You command a substantial amount of respect from your peers in Hogwarts."

Dumbledore was well aware of Quinn's unique position in Hogwarts. It was different than any other student he had seen. Be it himself in his Hogwarts; he was well known and respected, but that only went a tad bit above what you could gain as the head boy; he wasn't as well connected as Quinn (a fifth-year) was.

'He even leaves behind Tom in the quantity of connections,' thought Dumbledore. 'No. . . not just quantity, he has better quality connections than Tom; unlike Tom, he is well connected to all houses and social groups.'

"I could have," accepted Quinn with a nod, "but I didn't see the point. If I ever want to see that Age line again, I can simply approach you with the request; after all, you're the headmaster and technically a professor of Hogwarts."

"That's true," beamed Dumbledore, "I see that as the last time, you still don't consider me a teaching faculty of Hogwarts. . ." Students of Hogwarts addressed Dumbledore as a professor, but not Quinn; he consistently used headmaster. "Maybe I should pick up the fifth year transfiguration class for Ravenclaw students from Professor McGonagall so that you will call me professor."

Quinn laughed before replying, "I would prefer that you start next year, headmaster. I would rather have you restart the Introduction to Alchemy class in the sixth year and Alchemy Essentials for seventh-year students. No use teaching something that Professor McGonagall can teach second to none."

"If you can gather enough students, I will restart it again, Mr. West," said Dumbledore, "I can't restart the class if there aren't sufficient interested students, and unfortunately, you alone don't fill that quota."

"I tried to recruit and convince the more clever minds in Ravenclaw to learn Alchemy, but unfortunately, Alchemy isn't popular among students," sighed Quinn, "such a waste, isn't it? With you here, it's a golden opportunity to learn."

"Planning for the next two years already, Mr. West? It's only the start of your fifth year."

"Hogwarts is a seven-year program, headmaster," responded Quinn, "for me, it's not 'only' the start of the fifth year but 'already' the fifth year with only two years left. I need to make most of my remaining time here."

He still had major projects like duplication of books in Room of Requirments and the unsolved vaults remaining and only a little under three school years to complete.

"Only two years, you say," nodded Dumbledore, "have you thought about doing an apprenticeship, Mr. West? At Hogwarts perchance."

Quinn looked up at the taller man and questioned, "Apprenticeship at Hogwarts? Wasn't that program closed ages ago? I'm sure it was closed by the time my grandfather entered Hogwarts."

"You're correct," affirmed Dumbledore, "It was closed a couple decades before your grandfather entered Hogwarts; I think it was around the same time I graduated Hogwarts." His blue eyes gazed at Quinn as he offered. "If you truly desire to stay at Hogwarts, I can offer you an Alchemy apprenticeship under me. . . well, I can offer you an apprenticeship under me in any subject other than Magioology and Divination."

Quinn chuckled at the not-so-subtle brag from the aged and diverse magical. "I appreciate the offer, headmaster, but may I ask what prompted this?"

"A teacher's desire, Mr. West," answered Dumbledore. "You're a gifted student of magic. Any teacher worth his salt wouldn't miss a chance to take someone like you under their wing. Actually, I'm surprised that the Head of Houses hasn't tried to offer you apprenticeships; we semi-joked about this matter in many of our faculty meetings."

Dumbledore then laughed in addition, "Poppy would always look proud of herself when that topic comes. You're essentially doing half an apprenticeship under her."

The mention of his favorite faculty brought a smile to Quinn's face. He had been making steady yet swift progress in his healing studies.

"I appreciate the offer, headmaster," said Quinn smiling, "but if I do commit to an apprenticeship, my first one is already set in stone."

"Oh? That piques my curiosity. Who is the master you have chosen, Mr. West?"

With a grin on his face and an impish delight in his eyes, Quinn revealed, "Alan D. Baddeley."

Dumbledore almost faltered a step when he heard the name. It took an errant moment of silence before he spoke up. ". . . Alan D. Baddeley. . . Mr. West, are you talking about the mind magic specialist, Alan D. Baddeley and not someone else?"

"As expected, headmaster, you know of Mr. Alan. Yes, I am talking about the same Alan D. Baddeley."

Dumbledore, of course, knew about Alan. How couldn't he? The name was at the apex of mind magic. Alan D. Baddeley to mind magic was what Nicholas Flamel was to Alchemy. Both were considered legends in their respective fields. After a point in a magicals' study of magic, most people tend to focus on one branch of magic. There were exceptions like Dumbledore and Voldemort, but most people stuck to one and some complementaries. But people like Alan D. Baddeley, who took one field of magic to the extreme, were mythically rare.

"Mr. West. . . how do you know Mr. Baddeley?"

"Hmm? Ah, he taught me everything I know," replied Quinn and tapped a finger against his temple, and Dumbledore immediately understood that Quinn was talking about mind magic.

"He offered me an apprenticeship when our time together came to an end," spoke Quinn fondly, "If and when I do start an apprenticeship, it will be a mind magic specialization and under Mr. Alan. . . but maybe after that, I will take your offer of an Alchemy apprenticeship, headmaster. I'm not one to waste an opportunity that fell in my lap."

". . . Ah! I see. Yes, yes," replied Dumbledore, still a little surprised by the sudden nugget of information thrown at him. He looked at Quinn, specifically his head, and one thing was cemented in his mind; Quinn West's mental defenses and faculties were solid. The child in front of him had been able to get an apprenticeship from Alan D. Baddeley; there was no doubt about the quality of Quinn's occlumency.

"Speaking of mind magic, it seems that we have diverted from the topic I wanted to speak with you," said Dumbledore filling the new revelations in his mind, "so before I forget, I want to continue our discussion."

"You were talking about the Age line," supplied Quinn.

"Yes, the Age line," repeated Dumbledore and intently gazed at Quinn, "Mr. West, would you like to guess how Mr. Potter's name was entered into the goblet?"

Quinn gathered his thoughts for a few seconds. "Well, from what I know about the Age line and the goblet of fire, the real submitter was clearly someone of age and used magic to confude the goblet of fire — while a powerful magical artifact, it still has some weak spots, and this one was its. Continuing onwards, the perpetrator clearly knew what they were doing. They used another school name so that Harry Potter would become a champion because, let's be honest, right now, I will take Cedric Diggory over Harry Potter any time of the day."

"Mr. West," interrupted Dumbledore, "how do you know about Mr. Potter's name slip being added under a fourth school? That wasn't made public."

"I've my sources, headmaster. I'm Quinn West, and a certain group of people really love me," replied Quinn.

"I see, well I can imagine that," said Dumbledore, not bothered. "Mr. West, it looks like you're well-read on the goblet of fire; you've done your research."

"Well, you can say that. . ." Even though it didn't sound like it, Quinn had trailed at the end. The subtle gaze from Dumbledore wasn't looking good to Quinn.

"Mr. West, you see, I had to remove the Age line when the goblet of fire was removed from the Great hall," said Dumbledore, and Quinn knew where this was going, "and to my absolute surprise, I came across another ward line concentric to my Age line. I, of course, investigated the unknown ward, and to my surprise, it was an ingenious design to destroy objects with specific names on. To my estimate, it could destroy a thick piece of leather or a thin slab of brittle stone when triggered."

Quinn showed absolutely no change in his expression.

'It's okay. I'm fine. Dumbledore has no proof. I made sure to add fail-safes.' While he assured himself, another part of himself was berating himself for not moving more quickly to remove his prevention ward.

He went one level ahead and put on a confused expression on his face. "That's indeed surprising, headmaster."

"Yes, but the surprise doesn't end here," continued Dumbledore, "the surprise was the names that were tied to the wards. The names that the ward was supposed to target."

'It's okay. It's okay. It will be fine.' Dumbledore was a master of his craft. While the situation was shocking, Dumbledore decoding his ward to the level where he could get names while frustrating wasn't surprising.

"I found multitudes of names," said Dumbledore. "Names of students from the very first year to the very top at the seventh year. I found dozens and dozens of names tied to the ward."

From his bright blue robes, Dumbledore retrieved a roll of parchment and handed it to Quinn.

"I'm hoping to find the one who drew the ward, and you're the best person I know who would be able to help me with this small problem. Give your position in the school and the sheer amount of interaction you have with your fellow students; I was wondering if you could look at these names and tell me if you can see a pattern in them."

Quinn wordlessly nodded and unrolled the parchment. Inside it was a list of names of Hogwarts students arranged by both house and year.

He gave it a read-over before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, headmaster, but I can't see a pattern in this list of names. These really look to me as a random list of names."

This was Quinn's fail-safe. While planning about drawing the ward, Quinn had thought about the scenario if someone discovered the ward and reach the level that Dumbledore had reached.

He knew that the culprit would be too obvious if he just stuck with his and his friends' names. Given that he was by far the most knowledgeable and adept at magic, he would be the prime suspect. To prevent that, Quinn planned a contingency; he added random names from all over Hogwarts to the ward so that anyone of those people's name slips would be destroyed.

He knew that there were overwhelming chances that some of those people would try to enter their names inside, so he made sure to build in a discreet method of destruction. As long as the goblet of fire wasn't confuded, only the ink of the names would be discreetly burned just before the goblet's fire engulfed the slip. That along the goblet's innate defenses would be enough to bar the listed people from entering. Only when the goblet was full-on confuded into complete activation mode did Quinn unleash the ward's entire lightning and incinerating force, as that was the time where no chance of error could be allowed.

"Is that so. . ." sighed the headmaster.

"Headmaster, can I keep this? While I can't see anything right now, I may be able to discern something if I give it more time," offered Quinn as a good student.

"Of course, Mr. West. You can keep the parchment," said Dumbledore, "If you do find something, please contact me. I truly want to meet the person who drew the ward. It's quite an amazing application of runes, ward theory, and esoteric charms."

"I will try my best," said Quinn. Of course, he was going to do anything but that.

"Thank you would be of great help."

"Now, headmaster, by your leave, I would like to part here."

"Of course, of course. I'm sure you're busy."

With Dumbledore's permission, Quinn slightly bowed his head and left with the parchment roll in his hand.

As he walked away, he let out a sigh of relief. This was again one of those situations where his reveal might not harm or put him at a disadvantage in any way, but Quinn still wished to remain anonymous.

'Still, I didn't expect him to offer me an apprenticeship,' thought Quinn, 'I wonder if he really wants to teach me or is it just because of my background — or maybe it's both.'

He looked back at Dumbledore and saw the headmaster with his back turned back to him. 'Maybe I will take him up on that offer.'

. . .

But Quinn West didn't know that he had missed something that, if he had seen, would have been of utmost importance to him.

Albus Dumbledore, with his posterior, turned to Quinn, took out a miniature glass vial from his robes — holding it in between his index finger and thumb, Dumbledore stared at the contents.

Inside the glass vial rested a tiny mound of pinkish-red chalk dust, which glowed, and as Quinn walked away from Dumbledore, the glow of the chalkdust weakened until Quinn had gone out of sight and the chalkdust had stopped glowing.

"As I thought."

The smile on Dumbledore's face was a sight to behold.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

The day of the first task was moving closing closer, and it had already been ten days since Quinn had started teaching his three temporary students, with one of them being the fourth champion.

"Why are we doing this?!"

Quinn looked up from a list of accounting statements towards the three people (Harry, Ivy, and Hermione) who currently had strained expressions on their faces.

"It's a simple exercise to build that spell's strength," answered Quinn, "it's a little straining, but Harry doesn't have time, and we need to speed things up."

He gazed at Hermione, who had asked the question, and continued, "It turns out that you two tagging along was the right decision."

Currently, the three Gryffindors were locked in deadlock, standing in a triangular position. They had a heavy metal ball in between them, which had three handles. The metal ball was floating in the air, with a red-orange cord of light wrapped around each handle.

The cord of lights was from one of Quinn's all-time favorite spells: Carpe Retractum. All three were pulling on the metal ball, struggling to keep it in the air while trying their best to pull the metal ball towards them.

"So you're just going to sit there doing nothing?!" asked Ivy, groaning against her brother and best friend.

"I'm not doing nothing," replied Quinn flipping a page of the ledger, "I'm a busy person who turns out to be an innovative teacher. If you tried to struggle against me, it would've been trying to pull a building, and that's not fun, is it?"

"And you think this is fun?!" said Harry, his voice straining. "Let me tell you! This isn't fun!"

"Never said it was supposed to be fun . . . for you," spoke Quinn, "it wouldn't have been fun for me."

"Are you sure this is going to help me?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," responded Quinn, "the egg will be much lighter than this, so if you can work with this, you would have an easy time that. Believe me, you will thank me for that ease when you have a dragon on your tail. How about this — you're welcome, you can thank me later."

The three struggled with each other. Harry Potter was the most magically strong of the three, but his efficiency and casting skill were the least. Hermione Granger was the weakest of the trio magically, but her efficiency and casting were the greatest, keeping her in the fighting. Ivy Potter was the balanced one of the trio; she was magically stronger than Hermione while more skilled than Harry, as such she was able to keep herself in the running.

"Yeah, keep it up~," said Quinn, "You're doing great!"

" " "You aren't even looking!" " "

Quinn simply chuckled in response.

He looked at the clear blue sky and smiled.

The first task of the Tri-wizard tournament was on the horizon.

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn West - MC - I got away~.

Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster - No, you didn't.

Golden Trio - Sub-group of Golden Squad - "Ugh!"

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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[The chapter is edited by my dear friend and Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

"Hermione," Harry whispered when he had sped into the greenhouse three minutes later, uttering a hurried apology to Professor Sprout as he passed her. "Hermione— was he serious?"

"It's Quinn West; I'm pretty sure he wasn't having you on. Not with the first take so close," she whispered back, her eyes round with anxiety over the top of the quivering Flutterby Bush she was pruning.

"But the task is tomorrow after lunch," he said.

"Quinn said that if you use the spells correctly, you'll be fine," whispered Hermione. She didn't look at Harry— maybe it was because she was concentrating on the plant in front of her or wasn't confident in her words.

Yesterday morning, Quinn had called them outside the Great Hall and announced that Harry's training was over and that he had already taught him everything he needed to survive a dragon.

. . .

"Don't be stupid, and you'll be fine. Relax till the first task, rest, and make sure you're in tip-top condition." This was Quinn's last statement to the group before he up and left without any prior indication.

After that, they didn't talk to him even once— or, to be specific, Quinn didn't speak to him. They saw him briefly at the Great Hall, but that was it.

. . .

"If you're nervous, we can always practice," said a voice.

Harry craned his head to see Ivy, his sister, standing behind Hermione, with a weirdly subdued plant in her hand.

And so they practiced. The trio didn't have lunch. They headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. Quinn had taught him a short assortment of spells that he could use against the dragon at his own discretion.

"Concentrate, Harry, concentrate..."

"What d'you think I'm trying to do?" said Harry, snapping. "A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason... Okay, try again..."

He wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Hermione and Ivy point-blank refused to skive off Arithmancy, and there was no point in staying without them. He, therefore, endured over an hour of Professor Trelawney, who spent half the lesson telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths.

"Well, that's good," said Harry loudly, his temper getting the better of him, "just as long as it's not drawn-out. I don't want to suffer." Ron looked for a moment as though he would laugh; he certainly caught Harry's eye for the first time in days, but Harry was still feeling too resentful toward Ron to care. He spent the rest of the lesson trying to attract small objects toward him under the table with his wand.

After Divination, he forced down some dinner, then returned to the empty classroom with the girls, using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. They kept practicing until past midnight. They would have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, he started chucking chairs across the room. They left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch and went back to the Gryffindor common room, which was now mercifully empty.

Harry stood near the fireplace at two o'clock in the morning, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of Gobstones, and Neville's toad, Trevor. Only in the last hour had Harry felt that he had gotten used to all the spells taught to him.

"That's better, Harry, that's loads better," Ivy said, looking exhausted but very pleased.

"Well, now we know what to do next time I can't manage spells," Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, "threaten me with a dragon. Right..." He raised his wand once more. "Accio Dictionary!"

The heavy book soared out of Hermione's hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it.

"Harry, I really think you're ready!" said Hermione delightedly.

"Just as long as it works tomorrow," Harry said.

Harry had been focusing so hard on learning the spells that evening that some of his blind panic had left him. It returned in full measure, however, on the following morning. The atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure— though, of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.

Harry felt oddly separated from everyone around him, whether they wished him good luck or they hissed "We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter" as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn't just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon and start trying to curse everyone in sight. Time was behaving more peculiarly than ever, rushing past in great dollops, so in a moment he seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch... and then (where had the morning gone? the last of the dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of people were watching.

"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now... You have to get ready for your first task."

"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"

"Thank you, Hermione," smiled Harry in return.

'Hmm?' Ivy looked at her brother and best friend. It was a little strange to see two people who quarreled almost every day, acting so cordially towards each other. Looking at them individually and together, she felt that something had changed.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Harry left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem herself either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head… We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand... The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any worse of you... Are you all right?"

"Yes," Harry heard himself say. "Yes, I'm fine."

She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

"You're to go in here with the other champions," said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there… he'll be telling you the— the procedure… Good luck."

"Thanks," said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than expected, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working somewhat hard, as though they had forgotten how to smile.

"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.

"Well, now we're all here— time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" —he held up a small sack of purple silk and showed it to them— "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different —er— varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too… ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Harry stared at the golden egg, and except blinking, not a single part of his body moved.

'Aah— So this is what he meant by the egg!' thought Harry. Now that he thought about it, Quinn had been weirdly insistent about the term 'egg.'

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once to show that he understood Bagman's words and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt. But they, at least, had volunteered for this...

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking... Harry felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. And then —it seemed like about a second later to Harry— Bagman opened the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon— a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck. And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground. Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the silk bag, pulled out the Hungarian Horntail and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it and bared its little fangs.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle—"

The loud cheer from the hundreds outside made Bagman flinch. The champions were inside, so what had got the audience so excited.

Everyone inside saw a wisp of flame enter their tent through the open flap, which surprised everyone even more. All looked at each other wondering if someone knew what was happening. But none knew what was going on outside.

"D-Did they let out the dragons," asked Cedric.

Bagman shook his head. "... No, the dragons should be still inside."

"Then what is it?" questioned Krum.

"I don't know," muttered Bagman and had just taken a step towards the tent flap when they heard a voice resound throughout the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen and interesting miscellanea— beloved friends and tolerated acquaintances," the voice paused, "Welcome... to the Triwizard Tournament!"

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

A couple minutes before the audience went wild, Eddie Carmichael sighed as he looked to his right.

"Do you really have to do this," he asked, "can't you like — be normal."

"You don't like it? I thought you would be stoked."

"No, you nutter!" blurted Eddie, "this is absolutely rubbish!"

"Don't say that," smiled Eddie's companion, his best friend, the grinning Quinn West, "didn't you like it when I showed it to you yesterday? You even praised me."

"I did no such thing!"

Eddie sighed and recalled the events of yesterday.

. . .

After the dinner feast, Eddie strolled through the Hogwarts ground with a toothpick sticking off his mouth. It was a calm night, with a clear sky, no signs of any incoming rain. The weather was truly great for the area around Hogwarts.

"Why in the world would that bloke call me here after supper," muttered Eddie. While he enjoyed the good weather, he wasn't the type to go out for a night stroll.

He finally stopped at the decided spot, standing just below the Astronomy tower.

.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling,

With some interesting stuff,

For now, they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

.

Eddie sang Hogwarts school song as he waited for Quinn to arrive, while still wondering why he was called here.

Then he heard Quinn's voice from behind: "Hey Eddie, you're on time." He turned to the left, but there was no one there, same with his right.

A chilly wind brushed the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He felt goosebumps rise on his skin, and suddenly he felt that his surroundings were a little too quiet.

The toothpick which had been lying peacefully in Eddie's mouth suddenly felt the assault from his teeth.

"Quinn?!" called out Eddie, "This isn't bloody funny! Come out and stop this dodgy shit! Come out, or else I'm leaving!"

"All right, all right, no need to have your knickers in a twist," once again, Eddie heard Quinn's voice from all around, "Look up."

Eddie craned his neck to look up, and his eyes widened as a startling sight reflected in his dark irises.

Words suitable to the situation escaped the mouth of the Irish descendant.

"Bloody hell!!!"

. . .

Quinn grinned as he, too, recalled the incident from last night. "That bloody hell wasn't a praise?"

"Of course not, you git," said Eddie and then sighed, "I will ask once again, are you sure about this? You know you can just stroll down there, and everything will be just as dandy."

"Let me tell you something, Eddie; if possible, this is one of the things that I will take every single time," said Quinn with a beaming smile.

"All right, don't say that I didn't warn you."

"I won't. Now, you know what you've to do, right?"

"Yes, yes," nodded Eddie and removed one of his hands from the Cleansweep Eleven broom under him and held onto the shaft of Quinn's Nimbus 2001. The two flew above the stadium built for the first task, hovering at a height where the stadium was nothing but a bowl and the people in it were tiny ants.

"All right, see you on the other side, mate," smiled Quinn and slipped down from his broom, falling towards the ground.

Eddie held the now lifeless broom in his hand and spoke as he watched Quinn descend in a starfish position.

"WOohoO" He heard Quinn yell out.

"Shit, he is going to die, isn't he?"

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

In the Durmstrang camp of the stadium, Kari Haugen tapped her feet impatiently— patience had never been her strong suit. She looked around her surroundings, seeing the crowd of Hogwarts students chattering away. Kari looked to the opposite side and saw the Beauxbatons' students enjoying the festivity. Even her own schoolmates looked excited; she was the same, but...

"What's taking so long?" she grumbled, "I want this to start, whatever this is."

Katie heard a sudden dip in the chatter before it went back— louder than before. She was about to look around to find out when she felt her friend shake her shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked.

Kari's friend pointed her finger up to the sky, and Kari followed. Her eyes widened when she saw the clear blue sky and found the reason for all the chatter.

"What's that?"

. . .

Ivy Potter and Hermoine Granger sitting in the stands, too, looked up like everyone else and saw a large violet smoke ring growing outwards, expanding to greater size.

"Morning skyworks?" spoke Hermione.

Another smoke ring appeared below the violet ring; this time, it was indigo-colored.

"The Ministry is really going all out on this," commented Ivy as a third blue smoke ring graced the sky.

The girls looked at a fourth green smoke ring that appeared below the blue circle.

. . .

"It's a rainbow!" commented Luna, pointing at the sky, "Violet, indigo, blue, and green... and the next one will be yellow—" and just as she said it, a yellow ring appeared — "See I was right!"

"You're right," nodded Marcus as he ate a piece of fried chicken, "It really is a rainbow."

He looked at the empty seat beside him that he had reserved by placing another bucket of fried chicken. "Where is Eddie? He's late."

"Maybe he found a crumple-horned snorkack," guessed Luna.

"... I doubt that."

They didn't know that Eddie was currently watching the smokeworks from a unique position, semi-enjoying and semi-worrying the experience.

"Do you want chicken?"

"Yes, please."

. . .

Tracey Davis clapped her hand as an orange plume of angry smoke puffed in the sky and expanded into an orange ring.

"This is quite the show," she said to the Greengrass sisters sitting beside her.

"It is. It's in the colours of the rainbow," smiled Astoria, who held a small flag with 'Cedric Diggory' written on it, waving it around, making it shimmer in yellow and black. She turned to her elder sister, "What do you think, Daphne?"

Daphne Greengrass watched as the seventh red ring completed the rainbow spectrum. There was a barrage of claps and applause as everyone guessed the VIBGYOR rings, but the sharp-eyed Daphne furrowed her eyes.

"... Is that —" Daphne took a moment to gather what she saw before speaking, "— a person?"

Tracey and Astoria, feeling confused, looked back at the seven smoke rings, and their eyes widened to the limit as they caught sight of a person appearing out of the seven-ring tunnel.

"Holy shit, look, someone is falling through the sky!" A Slytherin behind the Slytherin trio yelled, earning everyone's attention. All spectators, without fail, watched as a body sped down through the sky.

. . .

Albus Dumbledore, who had just removed his eyes from the totally unexpected colorful display in the sky to talk with Olympe Maxime in the judging panel asking about the skyworks and if she was the one who ordered it was rudely taken out of the conversation by a rough tug on his robes.

"Albus!" said the offender in shock and called the headmaster by his given name.

"What is it, Minerva?" he asked, frowning.

"Look!" she exclaimed and pointed her finger towards the smoke rings.

Dumbledore followed his deputies' finger and saw the same thing as everybody— a person falling through the sky.

For a split fraction of a second, Dumbledore took in the situation before a spark of urgency and energy flashed in his eyes as he hastily got up from his chair. The person was falling at speeds much higher than Harry had done during the Dementor game, so he whipped out the Death stick to focus his magic.

Alas... it was already too late as the figure was already too close to the ground for Dumbledore to do anything.

There was a collective sucking in of breath, averted eyes, many gulps in anticipation of a splat to the ground.

But— just before the body hit the ground, a harsh blue light zapped out of the figure towards the ground, momentarily causing everyone to avert their eyes.

There was no sound of the body hitting the ground, and instead, a cover of dust covered the rocky terrain of the arena.

There was complete silence in the arena. Not a single person had a mind to talk to someone else as they were entirely committed to looking past the thick dust cover.

Suddenly there was a sudden flash of fire, causing everyone to pull back with gasps filling every corner of the stadium. The fire seemed to consume everything in its path as the dust was incinerated into nothingness, leaving a clearly visible arena in view.

Everyone saw a person standing right in the smack dab middle of the arena, dressed in red and white robes. The figure looked up, and everyone in the stadium recognized Quinn West.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and interesting miscellanea— beloved friends and tolerated acquaintances," he said and took a pause as a big smile appeared on his face, "Welcome... to the Triwizard Tournament— first task: Dancing with Dragons."

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn West - MC - Arresto Momentum — "Perfect!"

Eddie Carmichael - Broom Collector - "Ooooh shiiiiit!"

FictionOnlyReader - Author - "My dear friend, I wish you the best of luck. Hope you return soon. AMJ is incomplete without you."

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

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The link is also in the synopsis.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and interesting miscellanea — beloved friends and tolerated acquaintance," he said and took a pause as a big smile appeared on his face, "Welcome . . . to the Tri-wizard Tournament — first task: Dancing with Dragons."

The second he finished, the students in the stands shattered the stunning silence, and if there was a roof over the stadium, the cheers of awes and excitement would've blown it off. The seven smoke rings, falling from the sky without dying, the fiery entry was already broke every expectation they had set for today.

'Holy shit, that is a lot of eyes,' thought Quinn as he turned on his feet to look at the entire stadium, roaming his eyes over all the excited and exhilarated people sitting in the stands. This was the first time he had this many eyes on him.

'Potato heads and nudes, was it?' considered Quinn before scrapping the idea; it wasn't his style.

"Most of you might know me from the AID services in Hogwarts — diligently helping people since 1991," announced Quinn, his amplified voice reaching far and wide. "But those who don't know me, I will introduce myself to you all: I'm Quinn West, a fifth-year student at Hogwarts — and today, on the exciting event of the Tri-wizard tournament's first, I will be your host for the festivities — and let me assure you something, the things we will see today will be all but boring or dull. They will be as colorful as the smokeworks in the sky."

From the corner of his eyes, Quinn noticed someone, and that cued him to continue speaking.

"Mr. Ludovic 'Ludo' Bagman," said Quinn pointing at Bagman entering the judge's box, "celebrated Quidditch athlete and the currently the decorated Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I would like everyone to give him a big round of applause."

Quinn's words were heeded to the full without any prompting as the waves upon clapping serenaded the recently debt-free Ludo Bagman. The man had thought about silently entering the judge's box and sit himself down without arousing any attention, much less suspicion. The sudden spotlight made him freeze at the sheer suddenness, and he could only wave his hand with a stiff smile on his face.

"Mr. Bagman was supposed to be your host today," announced Quinn growing the audiences' anticipation, "but then he graciously handed the role to me, a student. So, here I'm standing in front of you all, about to kick this event off."

He deliberately kept out the part where he had paid Bagman's debt and kept the goblins from coming after Bagman's head, and Quinn didn't know Bagman enough to give some credit.

The three headmasters/headmistress, Barty Crouch Sr., and the Hogwarts teachers looked at Bagman, wondering why he would pass on his hosting job to a student with varying feelings and judgmental thoughts.

Quinn was about to continue when a loud voice from the stands spoke before him. "Did you say dragons?!"

He turned towards the direction of the voice and beamed in answer, "Yes, Astoria, I did say dragons." Her question and Quinn's answer gathered many eyes on the young Astoria Greengrass, who flushed a faint red at the sudden attention.

"The theme of the Tri-wizard tournament's first task is Dancing with Dragons," continued Quinn, "our four brave champions will be going head-to-head with the mighty dragons in showdowns of their life."

He raised his fake wand over his head, and a shimmering golden light projected out of the wand tip. In the air above him, golden light began to twist, turn, bend and shift into the shape of an ornate egg with beautiful runic patterns etched on the surface.

"This the goal of our champions," all eyes gathered over the gently rotating egg, "a golden egg."

The holographic golden egg shimmered once before it began shrinking down and, at the same time, descend down. By the time it reached the ground, the giant magical hologram had shrunk down to the size of an ostrich egg.

"But this golden egg is no ordinary. . . er, golden egg," said Quinn getting him a round of chuckles. A graceful wave of his fake wand made standard dragon eggs around the golden egg, and now all rested inside a nest, "this golden egg will be placed in the nest of a mother dragon."

"All dragons that you'll see today are mother dragons who have laid eggs are currently in the incubation period." He pointed at the golden egg, "Four such golden eggs were secretly placed among the mothers' nests so that the mothers would treat it as their own egg. And with time through the great work of the dragon handlers from the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, the golden egg is now treated as a real one."

Then Quinn raised his arms wide, and his fake wand tip flashed a brief red.

What followed was a monstrosity with dark, rough scales, ridges along its back, and a tail tipped with an arrow-shaped spike faze out of the stony ground beneath Quinn's feet. The holographic figure flapped its wild wings and flew up into the sky.

"Dance with the Dragons," repeated Quinn as he moved away from the egg hologram. He stared at his illusion replication of a Hebridean Black dragon that circled the sky above the stadium.

"Four different breeds of dragons, one for each champion," grinned Quinn, but none were looking at him. All eyes were fixed on the black dragon flying in the sky.

The dragon turned its brilliant purple eyes towards the nest of eggs, and immediately, with a mighty flap of its wings, it descended towards the ground at neck-breaking speeds, but just before it reached the base, it stopped itself with an all-powerful flap before letting go and landing on the stony ground with a loud thump.

The realistic dragon hologram crawled towards the egg nest with agility, not suiting a creature of its size, but not one person doubted that this wasn't its actual speed.

"The mother dragon will protect its unborn children," notified Quinn, and as he did that, the Hebridean Black raised its head towards Quinn, and the purple reptilian eyes glowed maliciously.

There were gasps and shouts of warning when they saw the dragon open its maw — inside, they saw a burning blue — what followed was a forceful jet of violet flames hurled towards Quinn. In an instant, amidst screams and cries, Quinn was engulfed in the roaring flames as the dragon mercilessly breathed fire.

The flaming jet lasted for a solid five seconds before it stopped, and many expected to see a burnt body of Quinn West, but as the fire cleared, he stood there unfazed.

They turned their eyes away from Quinn towards the dragon just to see its body gradually disappearing into golden floating glitter along with the egg nest. Those who had stood up sat down with a thump — the illusion had been so real that they, in the moment, had forgotten that the dragon wasn't real and just a magical fabrication.

"Dragons can breathe fire, have great physical strength, and have a hide that is resistant to magic," listed Quinn as he moved back to the centre, "today, our champions will face these creatures akin to the gladiators of the yore."

He once again roamed his eyes over the stadium and declared,

"Let the games begin!"

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Quinn climbed into the judging panel and greeted everyone there with a smile.

"Mr. West, I wasn't expecting another surprise from you today," said Dumbledore with his patent smile on his face.

"Mr. Bagman was generous enough to bestow such an important task on to me, so when he offered, I accepted," spoke Quinn, glancing at Bagman, who just smiled. "It was an excellent opportunity to see if I can make a career in the announcer business. I have got a pretty good handle on Quidditch commentary, and this seemed to be perfect for trying out some diversification."

Flitwick and a few Hogwarts laughed, and even McGonagall had a smile on her face from Quinn's words.

"It does seem to be an exciting career line, Mr. West," chuckled Dumbledore, "if every show and event was like this, I'm sure you would be booked all year long."

"That's the dream, headmaster," grinned Quinn.

"Mr. West, if you would start," asked Barty Sr. from his chair.

"Of course, of course, let's get the festivities started," nodded Quinn and raised his fake wand; its tip glowed blue, and that was the signal as a dragon handler came into the arena with an egg nest levitating behind him. He placed it in the centre and nodded to Quinn before nodding towards a gate in the arena guarded by a barred-iron gate.

The moment the handler exited, the gate was pulled up, and from inside, came charging out a Swedish Short-Snout; the magical beast wildly whipped her head searching for her eggs to notice the nest nearby. Jets of blue flames issued out of her nostrils as she half-jumped, half-flew to her eggs, cradling them under her protection.

"The Swedish Short-Snout is an attractive silvery-blue dragon whose skin is sought after for the manufacture of protective gloves and shields. The flame that issues from its nostrils is a brilliant blue and can reduce timber and bone to ash in a matter of seconds. The Short-Snout has fewer human killings to its name than most dragons, though as it prefers to live in wild and uninhabited mountainous areas, this is not much to its credit."

Quinn announced to the spectators before taking out a whistle from his pocket to blow in it, for it to emit a shrill sound.

A few seconds later, a green-looking Cedric Diggory entered the stony arena. The first champion was sweating, and even before, he had somewhat of a labored breath from the stressful thoughts.

"Give it up for the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory," said Quinn, "let's see how our first champion struggles against the Swedish Short-Snout."

. . .

In the arena, Cedric took out his wand and held it ready for defense. He didn't know which of his movements could trigger the giant creature in front of him.

He looked around the arena and spotted loose rocks lying across the field. 'Three. . . seven. . . fifteen,' Cedric continued to count, 'this many will be enough. . . at least I hope they are enough.'

Cedric then finally looked over at the dragon, and for a time that seemed to be an eternity and a single second, he took every feature of the dragon in. When he found that he was going to face a dragon, Cedric wasn't thrilled about it, and even though Cedric was glad to obtain the information in advance, there wasn't much he could do about it.

Through many sleepless nights, Cedric was able to come out with one strategy.

'I need to distract it.'

Cedric took in a deep breath to calm himself, but his composure went back into nervousness when he saw the Short-Snout's blue flames.

'I can do it, I can do it.' Cedric repeated in his mind before raising his wand and pointing it towards a rock distant from him. A faint cream spell-light zapped towards the rock, and with a crunching noise, the stone transformed into a bullmastiff dog.

The transfigured dog ran towards the dragon, barking loudly as it picked up speed. The dragon's eyes locked onto the dog, and immediately, it got up and swiftly place itself between the nest and sprinting dog. Its maw with razer sharp canines opened up for a jet of blazing hot blue flames to assault the dog, blazing it into a pile of a burning pile of rocks.

"Yes, it worked," muttered Cedric, clenching his fist at his success as the dragon sat down in the new spot — leaving the eggs uncovered.

With his newfound confidence, Cedric shot two more transfiguration spells towards free rocks for another two bullmastiffs to run towards the dragon, approaching it from the left, which made the dragon move another few steps away from the eggs.

From there on out, Cedric sent out dogs to make the dragon move in his preferred direction and then wait for a minute so that she would get comfortable in her new position.

'Okay, this is enough,' decided Cedric, and three jets of magic transformed rocks into dogs.

The moment the dragon moved to eliminate the dogs, Cedric rushed towards the nest. Mid-sprint, he shot transfiguration spells towards the dragon's right to keep it busy using quantity. The decision turned out to be correct as just one touch from the flames turned the dogs back into burning stone.

Cedric slid beside the nest and picked the golden egg up. The second he made contact with the egg, six dragon handlers entered the arena. The task was to retrieve the egg, so the second the champions touched the egg, the task was deemed successful.

Cedric saw the dragon handles enter the arena and the sight, along with the fact that he had the golden egg in his hands, made him relax — that was a mistake.

He was playing by the rules, dragon handling was moving by the rules, the judges would give scored according to the rules . . . but the dragon wasn't playing by the rules. The moment the mother got rid of all the dogs, she looked towards her eggs to see a human clutching one of them outside her nest.

Red took over as she flapped her wings and took flight towards Cedric; she aimed to cover the distance in one wing-aided leap.

"Back away, kid!" yelled a dragon handler, and three out of the six of the zapped curses towards the blue dragon, causing her to falter mid-flight.

However, the mother dragon was adamant about getting back her egg, so she leaped forward, pushing with her legs. The other three dragon handles were ready and shot spells towards the dragon, and she faltered once again, stumbling to the ground. Five out of the six dragon handlers swung their wands, and thick iron chains flew into the arena and started to wrap around the dragon.

Cedric, who had turned away to run, stopped when the dragon handlers subdued the dragon, and the sixth free handler walked to him to ensure his safety and status, and Cedric turned back to look at the chained dragon.

That was a mistake.

While the Short-Snout was bound in chains, her magic was still hers. She called upon it; the fire started to build up her throat as she held it in. She opened her jaw and shot a blue fireball towards Cedric.

Cedric and the sixth dragon handler watched as a rolling ball of fire singed towards the pair. The experienced dragon handler instinctively cast a shield from years of experience. He immediately started to back away from the fireball's path because he knew his protection wasn't powerful enough to handle the flames and could only buy him some time.

Cedric wasn't privy to that dragon handler experience, and while the shield covered him, it was only partially.

"AaaaAh," he screamed as tongues of blue flame scorched his body. Cedric dropped the egg due to the pain of one part of his body being burnt by dragon flames, charred by the intense heat.

The mother dragon wanted to shoot another fireball, but the dragon handlers weren't going to let that happen as the chain roped around her maw, chaining it shut, and the built-up fire could only escape her nostril.

The dragon handler who had cast a shield didn't bat an eye when he saw Cedric screaming in pain from being burned and swiftly conjured a stretcher, put Cedric on it, and levitated him away out of the arena.

. . .

After the arena was cleared, Quinn once again spoke up, "Now that was a great display of transfiguration and patience. Diggory used diversionary tactics to lead the dragon away, and he was entirely successful in his venture, though he let his guard down a bit too quickly."

While concerned about Cedric, not a single person in the stadium looked worried and bothered by what had transpired. The magical kind had a different perception of what could be classified as a grave injury. A burn like Cedric's, while fatal to a non-magical, was nothing in the magical society.

"Oh boy, that burn covered a lot of ground," commented Quinn, "he will be seeing a lot of skin peel tomorrow. No need to be worried as our residential medi-healer, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, will have him good as new by the end of the day."

He turned towards the panel and asked, "Judges, your scores for Mr. Diggory's performance."

The four judged used their wands to write in the air: "Okay, the combined scores comes to a total of thirty-one. Let's see how the coming three perform to see how Mr. Diggory places."

. . .

"Now, what do we have here," Quinn's joyful voice reached the ears of all as they looked into the arena, "A Common Welsh Green, another native to Britain Isles. Green scales, thick hindlegs, thin forelegs; slow on their feet, quick on their wings. Common Welsh Green is famous for being a relatively subdued breed and prefers to prey mainly on sheep and other small mammals and avoid human contact altogether. Though they stumble out to muggles quite often, and our Ministry spends a lot of money to keep the damage under wraps."

Standing over a new nest of eggs, the Common Welsh green released a melodious roar to scare away everyone from her and her nest of eggs.

Quinn blew the whistle, and within seconds, Fleur Delacour walked into the clearing, "Ms. Delacour looks like she is ready to subdue the dragon; isn't this the perfect representation of beauty and the beast, though I doubt the beauty will be falling in love with the beast."

. . .

Like Cedric, who had come before her, Fleur observed the mother dragon before making any move. She wasn't as anxious and worried as she had been inside the tent. Watching the lying dragon made her seem like a harmless creature, but the fact that the dragon could rip her apart in seconds was every present in the back of Fleur's mind.

She glanced up at the judge's panel and saw her headmistress smiling towards her.

'I can do it,' she thought, 'I just have to do as I practiced.'

She raised her wand and pointed it at the dragon. Letting out her nervousness through an exhale and in sync with that exhale, a faint wisp emitted from her wand, and like sand flowing through the wind, the pink wisps traveled to the dragon, entering the mother's body through her nostrils.

. . .

Back in the stands, Quinn analyzed the situation and gave the spectators his valuable commentary.

"Let's talk about Ms. Delacour's tactic for dealing with the dragon," he started, "from what I can see, the magic that our only female champion is casting is a bewitched sleep spell — an interesting choice, to say the least."

"Bewitched sleep is an enchanted slumber of sorts. It is used to refer to a condition wherein the target's body and mind are brought into a state in which their nervous system remains relatively inactive, their eyes closed, the postural muscles relaxed, and consciousness practically suspended by magical means. So-called because of how reminiscent it is to the natural sleep that typically recurs for several hours every night, there are several ways in which this condition could be induced in people; such as by simple Sleeping Charms, which simply places those subjected to it into a magically induced slumber that will eventually wear off, a more advanced spell, putting the target into such a deep sleep as to render them in a state akin to suspended animation.

As they listened to Quinn, the spectators watched Fleur circled the area with careful steps; she still had her wand pointed at the dragon with the bewitching pink magic flowing into the dragon.

"Dragons parts are used to craft wands as such it's difficult to affect dragons with such a variety of magic that Ms. Delacour is constantly casting the spell to make sure to put the dragon to sleep."

Eventually, everyone saw the spell take effect.

"Ah, it seems that Ms. Delacour has successfully put her dragon to sleep," announced Quinn, "I have to say that I'm feeling impressed by Ms. Delacour's approach; putting the dragon to sleep, how simple and yet so effective."

. . .

Down at the stony arena, Fleur immediately took off with a run towards the egg nest. She covered the distance quickly and only slowed at the ending stretch as she was too close to the dragon.

"Now, where is the egg?" she mumbled and trekked the rocky terrain around the slumbering dragon. "Ah, there it is!" she exclaimed on finding the nest egg just beside the dragon's face.

She leaped down from a height and briskly walked towards the nest, but just as she strolled past the dragon's face, abruptly, a puff of fire threatened Fleur, who barely was able to pull up a shield charm. In that second, Fleur went from feeling oh so close to success to outright terrified — she was too close to the dragon.

The smoke cleared and what Fleur and the rest saw was a still asleep dragon.

". . . I-It's snoring fire," muttered Fleur in disbelief. Her beating heart settled down with a sense of relief.

She decided not to waste any time and soundlessly rushed to the nest and picked up the golden egg, and with that cue, dragon handlers entered the area, signifying Fleur's successful completion of the trial.

Two out of four chapters were done, two remained.

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Quinn West - MC - After magic and business, he would've done hosting.

Cedric Diggory - Status: Severely burned - Approach: Distraction with Transfiguration.

Fleur Delacour - Status: No injuries (elevated heartbeat) - Approach: Advance sleeping spell.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

Report chapter Comments

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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.

"An excellent performance by the Fleur Delacour," said Quinn, "the skillful use of bewitchment sleeping charm on an unsuspecting dragon was a smart decision."

Quinn turned to face Dumbledore and posed him a question, "Headmaster Dumbledore, as someone who is credited to researched and found twelve uses of dragon blood, you must be knowledgeable about dragon physiology. So my question to you is — how much of Ms. Delacour's undetection by the dragon can be attributed to the Common Welsh Green's magic detection capability and how much to her personal casting skills?"

Albus Dumbledore was ready to answer a question as part of the judging panel — a generic question, but he didn't expect Quinn to go deep and connect his work to a champion's performance.

"An interesting question — no, a splendid question," started Dumbledore with a smile, "the answer to your question is that Ms. Delacour's undetected performance depended on both her skill and the Common Welsh Green's weak senses. . . As you spoke earlier, dragons have a magic-resistant hide, and so does this breed, but the Common Welsh's hide has a peculiarity that makes its senses dull. Ms. Delacour was cautious about her output and only applied enough of the spell that she went undetected by the Common Welsh Green. According to my estimate, if Ms. Delacour had gone around ten to twenty percent over her output, she would've alerted the dragon that there was something wrong with her body."

"I see," the audience heard Quinn's voice loud and clear, "thank you for that insightful answer. You heard it, audience members, next time you come face-to-face with a Common Welsh Green — it might seem impossible to hold back in the face of a dragon, but do remember to be light-handed on magic."

Barty Crouch Sr. leaned near Bagman and whispered: "Never thought I would say this to you, Bagman, but good job on passing the hosting duties to a student. He's doing a better job than I imagined you would've done."

Bagman could do nothing but nod stiffly. It was all part of the offer he had been given in return for his debt being paid off by Quinn West. He was told by Quinn not to answer any question regarding why he had given Quinn the job.

In Quinn's words: "Sometimes, silence is better than poorly constructed lies. People fill in the unspoken with their own imagination and don't bother asking questions."

And Bagman was going to follow that to a T — Bagman had done his research and knew what kind of trouble he could get into if he didn't hold up the end of the deal he made with the West child.

. . .

"It's time for us to introduce you to the third dragon of the day," announced Quinn, "this dragon will be defending against the Bulgarian Quidditch star Victor Krum from Durmstrang."

Quinn had visited the dragon handlers and had sorted out his calling cues. They knew when to let in the dragons so that their entrance would match Quinn's hosting.

As planned, the dragon gate opened and came barreling from inside a scarlet and smooth scaled with a fringe of golden spikes around its snub-snouted face and extremely protuberant eyes. The last two dragons were worried, but they remained cautious and restrained about their surroundings — The Chinese Fireball, though? She was as aggressive as a shaken-up can of soda.

The dragon ran around the arena until she spotted her eggs resting inside a nest in the middle of the arena, and the smaller dragon spread her wings and screeched a shrill scream before closing the distance in an instant, seating herself over the egg. She breathed a deep red large mushroom-shaped flame up in the air as a warning sign, threatening anyone who dared to approach her or her children.

"The Chinese Fireball, also known as the Liondragon, is a dragon native to China. It was a brilliant red and gold dragon, named for the rounded balls of flame that shot from its nostrils," Quinn's voice gave the audience some detail about the beast they saw, "The Fireball is aggressive but, unlike other dragons, it was more tolerant of its own kind. It will sometimes consent to share its territory with up to two other dragons. They were also said to be very fast and clever, at least for a dragon."

The whistle flew to Quinn's lips, and the entry cue for the champion was sounded.

Within half a minute, Victor Krum walked into the rocky arena. The champion who had been grumpy and grouchy ever since his arrival to Hogwarts was now seen alert and ready. His face had a thin sheen of sweat, but it didn't look like anxious sweating.

"It seems Krum has been warming up to face his opponent," noted Quinn, "Is he treating the task as one of his quidditch games; if so, then that's an excellent way to calm his nerves. Let's see how much this helps him."

. . .

It turned out that Quinn was correct, as Krum had gotten so stressed when he heard Cedric had been burned by the dragon that he decided to treat this as one of his games and did a quick warmup to calm down.

He stared at the hyperactive dragon. She was turning her head all around the stands to look at all the hundreds of people.

His heart skipped a beat when the Fireball locked eyes with him. The dragon fumed two mushroom-shaped flame clouds from her nostrils, and in return, he clutched his wand tighter in his hand. The human and dragon stared at each other, neither blinking nor moving an inch with only the Fireball swishing its tail back and forth.

Maybe it was minutes or mere seconds, but the one to break the staredown was Krum, who whipped his wand above his hand and pushed the gas pedal on his magic. A red zap of spell lighting coursed from his wands towards the dragon. The mother Fireball dragon snorted two mushroom-shaped clouds from her nostrils before opening her jaw wide and shooting out red flames to counter the spell.

The spell and magical flames met in between, and there was a mini-explosion as a result. With it, the aggression had begun.

Krum didn't stop and ripped another spell towards the dragon, which was countered by another burst of fire. The result wasn't an explosion but a gush of black smoke spreading at an alarming rate.

The Fireball stood on her hind feet in alert caution. Her draconian brain telling her to be on alert. She stepped forward, keeping her eggs behind her.

Suddenly a spell came charging from her right, parting the smoke. From within the hole in smoke, one could see Krum with his wand raised, but the next second, he was gone. The dragon raised its wing to receive the spell, and the magic collided with the magic-resistant hide. The result was a puff of hot smother, but the dragon came out without a scratch.

"For the first time today, we see the power of dragonhide," Quinn's voice was heard throughout the stadium. "This power is the reason that even though the hide loses a chunk of its resistance when stripped of the carcass, the leather is still used to create under-armors for Hit Wizard and Aurors."

Krum ran around the rocky terrain, jumping from one boulder to another, trying to keep himself moving while keeping the dragon into the smoke.

'I just need one shot,' thought Krum, 'one spell would be enough to get to the egg.'

Just when his line of thought ended, Krum came to a screeching halt as his eyes caught a red from within the hazy smoke. His eyes widened in an instant as he understood what was coming.

"Shit!"

Without giving it a second thought, Krum jumped down from the boulder and slid down behind a tall piece of stone for cover. The second he squatted on the ground, deep red flames assaulted Krum's cover. He looked up and could see tongues of flames reaching out from the edges.

The second the flames stopped, Krum rolled over in an effort to get up. He was about to get up when his eyes caught a shift in the stone cover and looking up, he saw the Fireball's head peeking from above.

Krum sucked in a deep breath when he saw the jaw unhinge, and inside he saw red light at the end. He was about to face a dragon breath from point-blank range. In the life-and-death situation, Krum raised his wand and shoot the first spell that popped into his mind.

A murky yellow spell shot out of his wand, and with the Fireball's jaw opened, the magic entered the dragon's mouth. The dragon snapped her jaw close and screamed in pain from the effects of the spell.

. . .

Quinn stood near the ledge in the judge's box and watched Krum and the dragon with bright eyes.

"Ah, that was a spell that lacerates flesh," announced Quinn, "a dark curse — as expected from a Durmstrang student — a student of the dark arts."

Everyone in the judge's box momentarily removed their eyes from the arena and glanced at Quinn. They found it rare for a student of Hogwarts to not talk about dark arts with fear or disgust. Albus Dumbledore, the poster boy of anti-dark magic, had all but erased all traces of dark magic from the Hogwarts ground.

Dumbledore looked at Quinn's back and thought back to their first meeting. Quinn had told him that as long it was magic, he was interested.

'He identified the spell quite quickly,' thought Dumbledore, and well, his thoughts went in a very particular direction involving three very specific people. Two people with who he could find parallels with Quinn. . . and a young himself.

. . .

Krum stared at the Chinese Fireball, and amidst the screams, he thought, 'This is the chance.' He clumsily waved his wand, and a good enough invisible spell hit the dragon in the eyes.

The dragon pulled her head back and used her wingtips to cover her eyes.

"Ah, another one, the Conjunctivitis Curse," said the announcer's voice," a curse that irritated the target's eyes, forcing them to swell shut. Dragons were notably susceptible to this curse because while their hide made them resistant to most spells, their eyes remained vulnerable. Another pro-tip for you people: while every other part of a dragon's body is durable as hell, their eyes are more squishy than ours. So poke 'em there because it hurts a lot."

According to his plans, Krum had only planned to temporarily impair the dragon's eyesight so that he could get to the egg and complete the task. But now, not only had impaired vision, but he had also launched a spell that caused injury to the dragon.

He knew this was the moment. Krum stood up and rushed to the middle of the arena with his eyes set on the golden prize.

The Chinese Fireball finally had enough; her mouth hurt, and she couldn't open her eyes; her babies were unprotected. She let her instincts take over and moved her head towards the direction of the nest; she could smell her own scent on the eggs.

A deep red illuminated her throat as she opened her jaw.

Krum was within spitting distance of the nest when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned back and saw a vivid jet of fire coming towards him. His eyes widened; he looked ahead and dove for the egg. His hands caught the egg as he rolled over to his back, and with a body roll, he was back onto his feet.

But his work wasn't over yet. He saw a dragon handler entering the arena, and the man pointed at the two large rocks, and Krum didn't need to be told twice. He sprinted and once again dove ahead, this time into the crevice between the two rocks.

"Aargh!" screamed Krum as a back was singed just before he could get to safety. He fell to the ground, but his hands clutched the egg as if it was the snitch in the World Cup finals.

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Harry stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be made of marshmallows. He waited. And then Harry heard the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance of the tent, the panic rising into a crescendo inside him. And now he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground.

The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but Harry didn't know or care whether friendly or not. It was time to do what he had to do . . . to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance. . .

His mind went back to the two weeks he spent listening to Quinn, who he had just seen in the judge's box.

He raised his wand.

"Accio Golden Egg," he shouted. The egg didn't move at all. "Well, worth the try."

The Horntail covered the area around the eggs pretty well; as such, he couldn't use the transfiguration trick to Accio the eggs to him. . . and the grappling tactic. . . and the push-up tactic. . .

'Hell! Every tactic he taught me is useless with the Horntail in the way.' If Quinn had heard Harry's thoughts, he would've used every tactic he had taught Harry before staring him down for a solid minute.

He made his decision.

"Accio Firebolt!" he shouted.

In the judge's box, Quinn sighed and cut the Sonorus just so that he could mutter, "Idiot."

Harry waited, every fiber of him hoping, praying. . . . If it hadn't worked . . . if it wasn't coming . . . He seemed to be looking at everything around him through some sort of shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of faces around him swim strangely. . . .

And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise. . . . Quinn was shouting something . . . but Harry's ears were not working correctly anymore . . . listening wasn't necessary. . . .

He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. And a second, later, something miraculous happened. . . .

As he soared upward, as the wind rushed through his hair, as the crowd's faces became mere flesh-colored pinpricks below, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog, he realized that he had left not only the ground behind, but also his fear. . . . Harry was back where he belonged. . . .

This was just another quidditch match, that was all . . . just another quidditch match and that Horntail was just another ugly opposing team. . . .

He looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the gold one, gleaming against its cement-colored fellows, residing safely between the dragon's front legs. He dived. The Horntail's head followed him; he knew what it was going to do and pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released precisely where he would have been having he not swerved away.

"Well, at least he can fly," sighed Quinn.

Harry tried a couple more times to draw out the Horntail and dodged the dragon's breath as many times as he attempted. But the Horntail didn't seem to want to take off; she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping those fearsome yellow eyes on Harry, she was afraid to move too far from them.

"It seems that, unlike the other mother dragons, this one has taken an entirely different approach; a defensive approach," spoke Quinn, his sonorous back on.

Harry knew he had to take the risk. He started to fly low, sticking to the walls of the arena. Slowly the speed of state-of-the-art Firebolt increased; soon, the Horntail was having trouble keeping up with Harry, and he knew it was the right moment.

He made a hard turn, and with a booming speed of his Firebolt, he instantly closed the distance between him and the dragon. But the second he was close to the dragon, the Horntail swiped her head toward Harry and already had a fire working in her throat.

But the Gryffindor Seeker was ready; he pulled up and flew up hard on a sharp angle, just missing the fire. But despite the danger, Harry had a big smile on his face. His wand was in his hand, and from it extended an orange-red cord of light on whose other end hung a shining golden egg.

"Carpe Retracturm. . ." said the student, and outside the arena, the teacher finished, ". . . for the win."

Harry Potter had grabbed the golden egg, without injury and overall that he had done it faster than any other candidate.

'Well, that wasn't half bad,' thought Quinn in the box and shrugged, 'Well, I trained him; he should at least get this level of results.'

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Quinn West - MC - "I will take partial credit."

Victor Krum - Status: Crisp - Approach: Conjunctivitis Curse.

Harry Potter - Status: Uninjured and feeling good - Approach: Carpe Retractum.

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Quinn walked down from the judge's box to the rocky arena. The stage was abuzz with discussions about the performance, and no one was paying attention to the fact that Quinn stood in the center. He looked around, waiting to see if they would notice him and pay attention.

"Doesn't look like it," his voice drowning among the chatter of hundreds. So he raised his fake wand to get some attention.

The people in the stands flinched when they heard a loud explosion. All eyes immediately went to the center of the field, where they saw a smiling Quinn twirling his wand.

"Good, now that I've everybody's attention, let's get started," they heard him speak, "We saw four stellar performances from our four brilliant, brave, bright, and boisterous champions." He pointed at the judge's box, "Our esteemed judges have given their opinion and scores to the champions' performance, and now I'm going to announce their positions relative to each other."

The rowdy crowd finally calmed down enough to listen to Quinn.

"In the first position we have," he paused before continuing, "the Beauxabatons' champions, FLEUR DELACOUR!" Quinn raised his wand and shot out fireworks in the shape of the Beauxbatons insignia, which turned into Fleur's face before disappearing.

"She completed the task the fastest and with the most skill out of all champions. The judges combined those factors and decided to place Ms. Delacour in the first place."

The Beauxbaton students were the first to jump in the air, cheering for their champion and school. But soon, they were drowned by the overwhelming hurrahs and roars of so many Hogwarts boys that even Quinn jerked back and looked at them with a startling surprise.

". . . O-Oh, it seems that Ms. Delacour has able to amass some fan following in her short time at Hogwarts," said Quinn, "From the looks of it, she's well on her way to becoming the people's winning favorite."

The boys roared louder at his words.

Quinn waited for them to calm down, but the boys continued to shout, and it went a little too long that Quinn had to shoot another louder explosion to forcefully calm them down — but the little f*kers didn't stop.

"Ah, screw it," he muttered and aimed his fake wand straight at a part of the stands with the just boys and shot out a moderate explosive spell towards them.

The rowdy students saw the spell hurled towards them, and in an instant, the shouts turned to screams as they ducked and covered their heads to save themselves. But it wasn't needed as Quinn's spell collided with an invisible dome placed there to protect the audience.

"Ahem," said Quinn as the dome stopped rippling, "now that I've your attention, we can move on to the next champion in line."

The boys stared at Quinn's carefree as if he just hadn't hurled a spell at them.

"The runner-up for the first task is," said Quinn and imagined a drum roll in his mind, "one of the Hogwarts champion, HARRY POTTER!" The Hogwarts insignia followed by Hary's face traced in fireworks.

Hogwarts as a whole, especially Gryffindor students, cheered loud for their house champions captain while the other houses also showed varying levels of enthusiasm and excitement. All-in-all it was a good show of support for the discredit champion and a start for things to start fresh.

"The last one on the podium was close," stated Quinn as he turned to look at everyone, "both of our remaining champions were brave in their approach, but their plans were a bit too reckless as such — both got burned as they played with fire."

A few chuckles around the stadium told him that some found his joke funny, and others didn't.

"After much deliberation, the judges have decided that. . ." another round of drum rolls sounded in his mind, ". . . coming in the third place is the Durmstrang champions, VICTOR KRUM!" The insignia of Durmstrang showed its glory, with the stern mug of Krum following shortly after.

There was a rough chant from the Durmstrang students and a few shouts from girls taken by Krum's stern and mind-your-own-business charm.

"Finally, we have our very own the very charming Hogwarts champion, CEDRIC DIGGORY!" shouted Quinn with another round of fireworks.

"No matter what their rank, our champions showed great ability and valor," continued Quinn. "Dragons are creatures of magic much stronger than us humans and even the fire-blessed Veelas; to outmatch a mother dragon and steal an egg from them is no easy feat. So the next time you meet them, give them the praise they deserve and applaud them for the heart and spirit they showed today — for they're champions!"

The response was. . . glorious.

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- (Scene Break) -

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"Haaa~," breathed out Quinn as he sat himself on the barstool behind his desk. It was the evening after the first task, and Quinn had just got free; professors, head of schools, ministry employees, and students had praised him for his hosting, especially his entrance that jazzed the entire event up.

"Madam Pomfrey really needs to get loose," he groaned, "no reason to smack me on the back of my head." The Matron wasn't happy about Quinn's little stunt at the start of the task.

He glanced at the full-body red robes with white highlights. "Maybe, I should have gone blue or maybe even black. . . well, not black, it would've been. . . tragic if someone died."

"It went well," spoke Quinn to himself, "but was it worth to pay of Bagman's debt?"

Quinn wanted to be close to the action of the Tri-wizard tournament, and the sure-fire way to stay close constantly was to become a part of the tournament. Being a champion was struck off right from the get-go; except a champion, there wasn't much a student could do, so Quinn decided to take someone else's job from him.

Ludo Bagman was the designated host, so Quinn exploited the debt and took the job from him. It was the first time ever Quinn had dug into his royalty account to take out a minuscule amount of money from his earning made from his invention; other than this, Quinn never had to dip into that account as his student account at Gringotts was enough for his annual expenses.

If there were any questions regarding Bagman's sudden hosting assignment to Quinn, they were erased after his performance.

"I would be close by in every event from now on," he said, "I do wonder if this was the correct decision — I gave up anonymity in return for access."

If Quinn had been any other student in the stands, he could've worked with certain invisibility; one didn't know what to look for when they didn't know it wasn't coming. But with being a host, Quinn would be near the scene and would have a much easier time working magic if needed.

"Well, with that level of access, I can get by without anyone knowing," shrugged Quinn.

He studied the ancient, black leather-bound book on his desk. He took out fresh sheets of paper and a black-inked fountain pen. Straightening his back, he opened it gently and started carefully reading the contents, making detailed observational notes about the contents.

After an entire noisy day of announcing and speaking to so many people, Quinn enjoyed the quiet and peace and was just getting into the rhythm, but it seemed that some people had other plans as the office door opened and four people walked, all had a skip in their step and a clap in their hands as they seemed in a pretty celebratory mood.

He looked up and saw the golden squad — all four members entered his office. Harry was in the lead with the golden egg resting in his hands; following him were Ivy and Hermione, and they were swaying to the beat of Ron clapping his hands behind him.

"All of you look happy," commented Quinn, closing the book and setting the papers aside, "Mr. Weasley, welcome to my office; this is your first time here."

"Err, right," replied Ron, something about Quinn made him stop clapping.

"Harry, I'm a tad bit disappointed that you didn't try Parseltongue against the dragon. I really wanted to see if the dragon would've reacted to the snake speak."

"With all the people looking at me? Yeah, right. I would've been branded Voldemort's next coming in tomorrow's newspapers," scoffed Harry.

"A little price to pay for the betterment of magic," shrugged Quinn. "I'm surprised that all of you are here," Quinn said as he waved his fake wand to set four chairs for his guests, "I assumed all of you would be busy with the celebrations inside with your fellow Gryffindors. What makes you all come here leaving all that behind?"

"We wanted to show you the egg," answered Harry; he sat down and set the golden egg on the desk.

"You helped Harry out a lot; it's only natural that we let you have a look at the prize," chimed in Hermione.

"We thought you would like to get your hands on the egg; you're the type to get all excited about magic," commented Ivy.

"Well, you got that right," said Quinn, picking up the golden egg, weighing it in his gloved hands, "Oh my, this is heavy,"

At first glance, the surface of the ostrich-sized golden egg looked like it was an ornate egg etched with beautiful and intricate patterns, but to anyone who had extensive runic knowledge, the designs became runes.

As Quinn rotated the egg, the initially small smile widened till Quinn seemed amply happy. The answer to the riddle inside the egg was clearly inscribed in the runes etched on the surface. If one could read the runes, they would know what hid inside.

"Why are you smiling?" asked the redhead Potter.

Quinn held the egg in his left with palm up. "Did you open the egg up?"

"Yes, I did. In front of the entire Gryffindor house," answered Harry.

"Be honest with me, was coming here with to show me this egg wasn't so a show of appreciation, was it?"

The four Gryffindors glanced at each other. Seeing that reaction made Quinn silently let out a single chuckle.

"It's a show of appreciation," answered Ivy, shrugging, "but stuff can be two things."

"I can respect that," he answered.

Ivy Potter stared at Quinn and then garnered a guess, "You already know what the egg is, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," he nodded, "but unfortunately for you all, I won't be sharing my finding with you fine Gryffindors."

"Eh? But why?" asked Ron, dumbfounded. The Weasley couldn't understand why someone from Hogwarts (sans Slytherin) wouldn't tell a Hogwarts champion about the egg.

"Well, I can't give it away; it wouldn't be fun that way," grinned Quinn. He put the egg back down on the table. "Find the clue on your own. As far as I know, the champions don't have an unfair advantage for the second task, so you won't get any from me."

"How about a hint? You do know what happens when we open it, don't you?"

"I know what will happen if I open it right here right now."

"Sounded like a banshee. . . . Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!" said Ron. He could swear that his ears were still ringing from the time Harry had opened the egg in the common room.

"It was someone being tortured!" sighed Harry. "I'm going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be daft, Harry, that's illegal," chided Hermione. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions.

"I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry," said Ron, giving another guess getting a chuckle from Quinn.

Quinn noticed that Ivy was intently staring at him. "Ivy, is there something on my face?"

"Will it be an unfair advantage if we paid you?" asked Ivy with a sly smile on her face. "What's the word again? If I remember correctly, as you said, it was. . . resourceful. Yes, we are simply being resourceful here."

The grin didn't leave Quinn's face as he nodded appreciatively. The girl in front of him had heard him carefully during their time-travel shenanigans. This was the second time she had brought something up from that time.

"Good, that's really good," praised Quinn, "How about this — if you can't find it out halfway through, I will give you an answer."

"There is a catch, isn't there?" asked Hermione.

Quinn turned to Hermione with a 'what-is-happening-here' smiling expression. "You guys are getting smarter. I knew it; people get smarter when they spend time with me."

Ron leaned forward, genuinely interested in what Quinn had just said.

"Yes, there is a catch," continued Quinn, "The price on that halfway mark is too expensive — and to be bluntly honest, even if you combined all of your allowances, you wouldn't be able to afford it."

He raised a finger to cut them from speaking.

"As the time goes on, I'll decrease the price. If you come to me the day before the task, it will be practically free. It's up to you how much you're willing to shell out for the answer. The later it is, the cheaper it will be."

He didn't tell them that even with the solution to hearing the riddle, they would've to decode the riddle and then find a way to execute during the day of the second day.

While it seemed like a good thing for the golden squad to approach him for his services, Quinn didn't want over-reliance from the golden squad. He wanted them to come to him but at the same time maintain a certain distance. Being too close to them was something Quinn was doubtful about; to him, it seemed an unnecessary hassle. But at the same time, he realized that his wish was too much of an ideal.

With Quinn and Ivy going back and forth with smiles on their faces, Hermione's mind wandered off to other things in the office. Her attention was particularly attracted by the ancient tome on Quinn's desk.

"Book?" she voiced, reading the rune etched onto the cover. "What kind of a book title is that?"

Quinn stopped conversing about chocolate with Ron and turned to Hermione. He placed a gentle hand on the tome and smiled, "Don't you think it's a fitting title? It shows what the book actually is — a book."

"That thing looks it's about to die," commented Harry about the condition of the book. "What's it about?"

"Ah yes, it's an old lady, this one," said Quinn, "I brought it from Aarhus, Denmark. A real bargain, if I say so myself." He didn't pay a single knut for it.

"From your trip?" said Ivy recalling the day Quinn had visited her house.

Quinn nodded.

"Is it written in Danish?" asked the second biggest bookworm in the room.

"No, Ms. Granger," responded the biggest bookworm, "this baby is transcribed in pure Younger Futhark runes; quite a fascinating read."

"What is it about?" Once again, the question came.

Quinn contemplated if he should tell them before shrugging. No harm in telling them the briefest of information.

"It's about winds."

The Viking magic of wind and air.

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The very next day, when the castle was animatedly discussing the first task and thought that nothing else could peak it. They came across something that first confused them, led them to feel surprised, and finally left them shocked.

Inside the house common rooms, the Hogwarts student saw a very peculiar notice on the house bulletin board.

. . .

Inside the Gryffindor common room, Harry came running down the dorm stairs.

"Ron, let's go, or we are going to get late," he said, patting Ron's shoulder.

On the other hand, Ron didn't move his eyes toward Harry and raised his hands to find Harry, just to find his face, which he ended up lightly slapping all over.

"Pu! W-What the hell are you doing?!" said Harry smacking the offending hand away.

"Look."

"What?" asked Harry annoyed before he looked at the bulletin board, and within seconds, he went from annoyed to still — very still.

"Holy—!"

. . .

Draco Malfoy started his day by climbing down the dorm stairs and get a fresh look at the Slytherin common room.

"It will be a good day," he smiled. Looking at the standard room put him at ease as this place was his to rule.

He was about to turn back to his room when he noticed Crabbe and Goyle standing in front of the bulletin board.

"Are they. . . reading?" Draco asked himself, "can they even. . . read?"

His two goon-cum-friends weren't the most intelligent kind, and seeing them in front of the bulletin board first thing in the morning wasn't something he was used to.

"Crabbe, Goyle, what are you lads doing?"

It seemed that Draco's words fell on deaf ears as the two surprisingly similar-looking boys kept on looking at the bulletin board.

"Are you two having problems with reading?" asked Draco, snickering. "Want me to help? Tell me, I'll read it for you."

He meant it as a joke, so when Crabbe raised his hands to point, Draco was stunned silent for a second. Draco turned his eyes to the board, and stuck on it was a colorful, long roll of parchment, sticking out like a sore thumb inside the somber common room.

Draco's mouth opened and closes a couple of times as he read the contents. After failing to formulate words, a short phrase came out the Malfoy heir.

"Bloody hell! This is. . ."

. . .

Eddie Carmichael plopped himself down in a chair inside the Ravenclaw common room. Just like others, he, too, was excited about the first task that took place yesterday. The fact that they got to see dragons so up close was amazing that people didn't get to witness regularly. But he was also a little miffed with what had followed the task. . .

"Diggory this, Diggory that," said Eddie clicking his tongue, "Potter is so great; Krum is so cool. Even the Veela is taking girls away from me. . . I know I should've tried harder getting into the tournament. I could've done the same thing as Potter; that was easy."

As he grumbled about the popularity and attention the champions were getting, Eddie noticed Quinn enter the common room from outside and head straight to the bulletin board.

"Quinn, let me hit you once," said Eddie getting up from his chair, "how many girls did you get praised by yesterday. . . also, don't hit me back."

Quinn pasted a big poster right in the middle of the board with magic while chuckling from Eddie's words. After confirming that the poster was stuck snug against the panel, Quinn turned back, and as he passed Eddie, he smiled and patted his shoulder.

"What? — Hey, where are you going?" asked Eddie, but Quinn had already left.

"What's the deal with him?" said Eddie muttering as he turned to the bulletin, and almost immediately, his jaw dropped as he read the words and saw the moving pictures.

In true Eddie fashion, his feelings came out in words that couldn't have been truer.

"Focking hell!"

Quidditch was coming back to Hogwarts.

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Quinn West - MC - Getting posters inside common rooms is easy when you've your people inside.

Ivy Potter - Smarter every day - She has begun to see.

Eddie Carmichael - Dropped Jaw - Mind blown.

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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If one saw students of Hogwarts assembled together in the Great hall, that usually meant that it was meal time and the children were ready to fill their stomachs with food. But today — the students had assembled in the hall, outside of meal timings and that too of their own volition.

Just today, big colorful posters were found stuck in four house common rooms and Beauxbatons and Dumrstrang residences, telling them that quidditch was returning to Hogwarts and that it was open to all — Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.

It read that if people wanted to know more, then at 6 O'Clock in the evening they could come to the Great hall to learn more. Nowhere in the poster was it stated that attendance was mandatory, but if one were to count, ninety-seven percent of Hogwarts students were there with Beauxbaton and Durmstrang present in full.

The chatter was intense with the students. No matter the corner of the hall or social group, the topic of conversation was quidditch — something that was publicly canceled by the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

"I think Krum went to Dumbledore and got him to restart the tournament," said a boy.

"Nu-uh," countered a girl, "I think it was Diggory; he might've asked for the tournament to start again."

"I don't think it was either of them," chimed in another one, "I think Harry Potter is behind this. The Boy-Who-Lived as the champion — his word will carry some weight."

"How about a fourth option — the seeker alliance. Krum, Diggory, and Potter — three seekers coming together to get quidditch back."

At a distance from the group of boys stood two girls dressed in green trims.

"Didn't these guys see the logo?" said the blonde with cold blue eyes.

The brunette shrugged, "Well, it was in the corner; maybe they truly didn't see it. The poster's contents itself were pretty eye-catching."

Daphne Greengrass didn't look satisfied with the reasoning. "Do you think his sister came to school for this?"

"It does seem that way," replied Tracey.

Daphne looked around her, and she could hear the rumor about the "seeker alliance" and how they were the reason behind the restart of the quidditch tournament. As Daphne was looking around, her eyes caught a figure at the door. Seeing that figure made a small smile bloomed on her face.

Quinn entered the Great hall and paused just inside the threshold. He took in the gathered crowd and nodded in satisfaction at the strength.

'First, need to set the scene,' he thought. From his robes came out his fake wand, which he raised above his head and pointed it at the hundreds of overhead floating candles. With a surge of magic, the candles turned colors, and from plain yellow, the flames turned into red, blue, dark-blue, yellow for four houses and mixed in equal quantities, were light-blue and a dark-maroon for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, respectively.

The change in lighting attracted everyone's attention. Everyone in the room craned their necks up to look above, and a soft wave of 'ooh' and 'aah' was heard through the students.

"Alright, looks like everybody who wants to be present is already here." Everyone heard the same voice they heard yesterday.

They saw Quinn walked towards the front of the hall from the gate, and as he walked, the crowd parted for Quinn, giving him the way to his destination.

"Given that all of you're here, I assume you all saw the posters or at least heard of it," spoke Quinn's voice amplified, "Exciting news, is it not? We all get to see the new and thrilling Tri-wizard tournament along with the familiar excitement of the quidditch tournament. A good year for us hardworking students."

Quinn reached the head of the hall and climbed up the steps to the elevated platform. He waved his fake wand out of thin air, and a set of hiking marble squares appeared, which Quinn climbed the blocks till he was at a height where he could see everyone in the hall.

"Well, rest assured, people," announced Quinn with a smile, "the news is true. This year, Hogwarts, along with the Tri-wizard tournament, will be hosting a Tri-school quidditch tournament."

Quinn paused, and the crowd cheer as quidditch was officially returning.

He let them cheer for a bit before gesturing them to quiet down. "Let me be reiterate myself — while officially Hogwarts is hosting the tournament, AID is the one who in charge of the tournament. Which means *I* am in charge of the tournament. . . not a professor, not the headmaster, not the seeker alliance, no one else but ME. So before we start, everyone should get it in their minds that going behind my back to any professor will not do any of you any good. This is an AID initiative; as such, I make the rules. If any of you have problems, suggestions, doubts, you come to me and not the professors; go to them, and I will throw you out."

His eyes roamed on their entire crowd and asked them, "Understood?"

After three years of AID going into the fourth, along with the prefect title, Quinn West was very well known in Hogwarts. Yesterday, he hosted the first task, and now he was handling the quidditch tournament. All of that, along with Quinn's reputation, made the Hogwarts students nod their heads and speak their 'ayes.'

"Good," noted Quinn and then smiled, "With that, the serious stuff is over, and it's time to get to the fun part, so cheer up, will you?"

"Let's get started with some details about the tournament," he continued, "First of all, this tournament will have ten teams — each team will be a mix of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang students. . . you can't have more than three students from the same in each team. . ." there was almost instantaneous opposition from the crowd, ". . . I told you guys that I'm in charge, so I can't and won't change the team template. You guys won't be seeing house teams this year, so buckle up to find new teams to support."

"The ten participating teams will be playing in a double-elimination tournament — essentially, for a team to be eliminated out of the tournament, they would have to lose twice, meaning that every team would have a second chance," explained Quinn. "If we add all the matches up, that will be a total of eighteen games — nineteen if a team is able to get to the finals undefeated; then they will get another chance after losing the finals. . . highly competitive and extremely fun."

Someone in the crowd raised their hand.

"Yes, Ms. McLain?" asked Quinn to the girl in yellow trims.

"Who decides the teams? Is it you?" said the Hufflepuff girl.

"No," answered Quinn, "I chose the captains; the captains will build their own teams. In total, seventy students will be participating in the tournament."

"Who are the captain?" asked someone else.

"Now, now, don't be impatient, people," beamed Quinn, "I'll now announce the captains."

He took out a scroll of parchment from his robes and rolled it open for effect; there was nothing on the parchment excepting a single word, 'PROP.'

"The first captain is my fellow Ravenclaw, the suavely handsome prefect with a mind of fox, give it up for the current Ravenclaw captain, ROGER DAVIES," said Quinn and clapped, prompting everyone to clap as Roger came sliding out of the crowd. He chest bumped a couple of Ravenclaw quidditch blokes before dancing his way to the front. Roger climbed up the short steps and dapped Quinn before standing to the side.

"The second captain is a brave lion, but I guess in the quidditch scene she is more popularly known as a vixen of Gryffindor; I present to you, the leader of Gryffindor quidditch team, ANGELINA JOHNSON." The dark-skinned, athletic girl came jogging out of the crowd and high-fived every Gryffindor in the way. The boys roared for her, and the Weasley twins kneeled in her, and she passed in between them, ruffling their heads. She and Quinn exchanged a nod and wink before she took her place beside Roger.

"The third captain is someone I personally like a lot; he has the tongue of the viper and is famous for his trash-talking in and out of the field. Let me invite up ADRAIN PUCEY, the Slytherin captain, the snake who has the skill to back it all up." There were some boos from Gryffindor's side, but Adrain remained unfazed as he strolled out of the crowd and stuck out his long tongue out to every Gryffindor and gestured his hands towards his crotch, asking them to suck it. He and Quinn exchanged a simple glance with each other before he stood beside Angelina, who wanted to move away, but Adrain shamelessly stuck close to her.

"The fourth captain, as you might've guessed, is also a captain — the Hufflepuff captain, to be precise. We all know who I'm talking about," grinned Quinn as everybody chanted the fourth captain's name, "One of the newly minted seeker alliance, the champion of Hufflepuff and Hogwarts, the school heartthrob, CEDRIC DIGGORY." Cedric appeared out of the crowd with his hand up and head slightly leaned down with a smile on his face. The champion didn't hurry and interacted with as many as he could before he reached Quinn, who squatted down to shake his hands. The fourth captain jogged and joined the selected ones by Adrian's side.

"These were the four house captains who gained captain positions in the tournament. Now let's move on to the next batch of captains," said Quinn once again, unfurling the scroll.

"She is the epitome of what people think of when hearing the word quidditch gal, one who fits in with both the guys and gals. Known in her school to be a mean seeker, a highly scouted prospect with eyes of the eagle and mind like a steel trap, I introduce to you the Durmstrang red bullet, KARI HAUGEN!!!" Kari walked out of the crowd with confidence and marched to the front with an attitude like she owned the entire place. The knock of her heels only halted when she stopped beside Cedric before giving Quinn a chin jut of recognition.

"Number six is a Frenchman, from Beauxbatons, where elegance is bred. When you look at our next captain, one word pops up in your mind, and that's a gentleman. But don't get deceived by his posh and polite looks; he is known to send a buldger towards his opponents with the same smile on his face; I welcome up here, as called by his schoolmates, the vicious bastard, ALBERT ACY!!!" A boy that looked in his late teens stepped out of the crowd, dressed in such impeccable fashion that he could even give Quinn a competition. As described, he wore a polite smile on his face as he head-bowed to the people multiple times before he could reach Quinn, where both boys shook hands. He walked to beside Kari and tried to initiate a conversation with her, but the Russian simply nodded to anything and everything Albert threw at her.

"For number seven, we remain in France and choose another one from Beauxbatons. He might be one of the most polite and good guys I've ever met; he was so nice that I gave him a 50% discount for all AID services. But when he is on the field, he defends the goals so well as a goalie that the opposing chasers regularly think of rage-quitting the game. I take this golden opportunity to call upon GAEL DUPONT!!!" A tall late-teen with equally long limbs walked out of the Beauxbatons camp and waved his hands to everyone. Gael climbed up the ascending blocks to hug Quinn before joining his fellow captains. Everyone liked that.

"Now, number eight is someone I thought I wouldn't be able to get to participate, but to my surprise, he was more than happy and enthusiastic to participate. Once in a generational talent who has already represented his country at the international level, give it up for another member of the seeker alliance, VICTOR KRUM!!!" Victor Krum wasn't one to indulge in fanfare. He simply walked to the front, looking straight ahead. He nodded to Quinn and then just as silently walked to the captains' lines. Despite that plane/boring nothing, Krum got the most applause from the student crowd.

"Now, I wanted to involve you guys in the captain selection process, so I decided that the final two captains will be selected in front of you guys," said Quinn, and once again, there were 'woohoo' calls.

He took out a shrunk-down glass globe from his robes before expanding it into a glass bowl with a lot of slips inside, "The names here were carefully curated by me from Hogwarts students. And to ensure there is no cheating involved, a neutral party will be picking out the name. . . And for that, I would like to call upon the very lovely, superbly talented, and the person who trumped over the entire seeker alliance, make some noise for the champion-in-lead, FLEUR DELACOUR!!!"

The light, without the influence of any external magic of any sort, seemed to bend to put a spotlight on Fleur as she walked towards the front while waving her hand like a Miss Universe candidate. It was like she was destiny's favorite child, and the world itself was supporting her. Gone was the powerful magical who had taken down a dragon; right now, the Veela was all about glamor and beauty; she could make even the top models feel conscious.

Quinn stepped down from his ascended marble blocks and released the magic. He walked down the steps, and when Fleur reached the base, he took her hands in his and escorted her up the stairs like a perfect gentleman.

"Ms. Delacour —"

"Quinn, the way you address me makes us sound distant; please call me Fleur," the Veela smiled so brightly that the people standing in front clutched their chests.

". . . I see. I understand. . . Fleur."

Quinn and Fleur both had cast Sonorus on themselves to amplify their voices. As such, everyone heard the sweet voice of Fleur and Quinn's response. The boys in the crowd instantly glared at Quinn from all directions, while the girls looked jealous of the creature named Fleur Delacour.

"Ah, he switched," said a certain bubbly brunette wearing green trims.

There were a couple of people in the crowd who both knowingly and unknowingly didn't like when Quinn switched from Ms. Delacour to Fleur. One knew the reason, while the other seemed clueless about the displeasure.

"So, Fleur," restarted Quinn, "What do you think of our eight captains? At first glance, who is your favorite. Who do you think will be able to build the best team — the team that will take home the cup."

Fleur glanced over at the captains. "I think Acy and Dupont will be able to build the best teams here. Though if I had to choose one, I will give Acy an edge on team building; Dupont might be better a goalie than Acy is a Beater, but Acy has better leadership skills. . . so, yeah, I think Acy would be able to make the best team."

"Giving Beauxbatons a definite and undisclosed edge, eh, Fleur," smiled Quinn, "You didn't even give the others a chance."

"What can I say; I'm that type of girl," she said, making eye contact with Quinn.

". . . I see, well, fortunately, the names in this bowl are all Hogwarts students, and you won't be able to favor your school here," said Quinn moving the glass bowl near Fleur, "please choose two names from the bowl so that we could get our final two chapters."

Fleur gracefully inserted her dainty and fair hand into the glass bowl and took out two randoms folded slips with her pretty fingers. She showed both slips to the crowd and got cheers in return.

"Please open one of them and tell us who is the lucky number nine."

Fleur opened one of the slips and read the name out loud, "Alicia Spinnet."

"Oh, now isn't this an exciting development," said Quinn and looked at the crowd, spotting Alicia, "Ms. Spinnet is the part of Gryffindor Vixens along with Ms. Johnson. I was sure that Ms. Johnson would ask her teammate out to join her team, but if Ms. Spinnet becomes a captain, that pairing wouldn't be possible. . . so Ms. Spinnet, what's your decision."

Alicia looked at Quinn and then at Angelina. She took a dozen seconds before she spoke up, "I accept!"

"You do?" smiled Quinn. "May I know the reason behind that decision?"

"I get to play with Angelina every year, but this year, I get to play against her — that sounds exciting," she smiled, "I can do something that wouldn't be possible normally, so why not take this opportunity and see where it goes and hopefully have some fun along the way."

Angelina sighed, but her expression showed that she had accepted the reason.

"That's the spirit, Ms. Spinnet," beamed Quinn, "I love your reasoning. This is what it's all about! Having fun! Come on up and join the champions. Make some noise for ALICIA SPINNET, the ninth!"

There were cheers and applause for Alicia as she joined the captains and entered the line in between to stand beside Angelina.

"Fleur, let's find out who's the next," said Quinn, "Who is the second person blessed by your luck touch."

"Oh Quinn, you and your flattery," smiled Fleur.

The people in the crowd grumbled, seeing the two having fun while they stood watching.

"Let's see. . . the tenth captain candidate is Lucian Bole."

Quinn turned to the crowd and saw that the crowd lost its energy when the name was announced. . . Lucian Bole wasn't a well-liked person, to say the least. He played dirty to the limit and was hated by both the Hogwarts players and the viewers. He had been forced off the team by Adrian because while Adrian was fine with rough, he wasn't on board with dirty play.

"Mr. Bole," called out Quinn. He wasn't bothered by the reputation. Lucian Bole knew how to play and was suited to lead a team. 'Also, a dirty team always adds that dash of spice in the mix.'

"Do you accept the captain position, or would you like to sit out to prepare for your NEWTs?" asked Quinn, seeing that Lucian was a seventh-year student.

Lucian grinned evilly and stepped out of the Slytherin camp, "I'll participate. . . it sounds fun." But unlike Alicia, his version didn't appeal to no one except a select few.

"Excellent, come on up, people give it for LUCIAN BOLE, the tenth and final captain!" But except the Slytherin house, who remained united outside their common room walls, no one clapped.

"Well, now we're done with the captain selection, from tomorrow onwards, the team selection will begin. I'll talk to the captains after this regarding the team selection criteria, and you all will also be made aware of the team template tomorrow via bulletin board all across Hogwarts."

Quinn grinned and raised his fake wands towards the ceiling.

Ten bright spots appeared in the sky, and next to each spot was the image and name of the captain.

"The Tri-school quidditch has officially begun people, let's make it something that hasn't been ever seen before."

The floating candles suddenly went out, leaving the room in the dark, causing everyone to shout like children do when going through tunnels. But the bustle got louder when the hologram of ten captains exploded into colorful fireworks, illuminating the room in its brilliance.

Quinn's largest project had finally been launched.

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Quinn West - MC - I decided the rules and on one else.

Seeker Alliance - Krum, Diggory, and Potter - What did we do?!

Fleur Delacour - Leading champion - Has moved to first name basis with Quinn.

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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!

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