(sighs) Job-hunting and supportive employment is so boring… It's one of the reasons why I prefer being a writer instead, because my imagination can run wild then. Anyway, here comes the aftermath.

Disclaimers: You know the drill, I don't own either franchise.

Later that night, Dumbledore was meeting with Otis, Nelly, McGonagall, Snape, Joss, and Moody as the American Auror voiced his concerns: "This can't go on, Al. First we get the Dark Mark and now this."

Dumbledore was bent over a bowl of silvery liquid as he listened to his comrade. "What are you suggesting, Otis?"

Otis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop it, obviously. Don't let my niece compete."

"You heard Barty, the rules are clear." The headmaster reminded him.

"Well, the devil with Barty and his rules! And since when did you accommodate the Ministry?" McGonagall spoke up, stepping forward.

Snape came forward as well and spoke his thoughts, "Headmaster, I too find it hard to believe this mere coincidence. However, if we are to truly discover the culprit behind these events, then perhaps we should... for the time being... let them unfold."

Nelly looked up sharply at Snape. "So we just do nothing and use Valerie as bait?! For God's sake, she's a teenage girl! Not a rare-cooked blood filled hamburger!!"

Dumbledore had returned his attention to his liquid as Snape had been speaking before he responded to them all, "I agree... with Severus."

Otis and the girls looked at each other in horror as the elderly wizard continued, "Alastor, Joss? Keep an eye on Val, will you?"

Moody stepped forward and nodded. "I can do that." His prosthetic eye spun around in a circle.

Joss nodded in agreement. "No problem. I know something's up already and I'm prepared to do what's necessary." He shifted to a standing position, silver stakes shining on his belt.

Meanwhile, back in the Gryffindor common room, Val sat by the fire silently, having a major poker face of near despair as she listened to Ron and Hermione speculate.

"This can't be a coincidence." Hermione was pacing around the room. "The Dark Mark, Val's name coming from the Goblet, Harry's dream, the smell of Polyjuice Potion from Professor Moody's flask. Something is seriously wrong, but… I can't put my finger on it." She rubbed her forehead.

Ron looked at them. "Honestly, let's think about it from Val's point of view. She's a half-blood like Harry. They both have people after them who are trying to kill them, the major difference being the reasons as You-Know-Who wants to rule the world and D'ablo wants Val to surrender herself to punishment. But what I don't get is why Val was chosen for the Goblet and not Harry."

Harry had been listening to his friends and thinking over their words as they spoke. "Unless there's something they want that could give Voldemort an edge over me." He looked at Hermione. "Hermione, you've read about this stuff. What powers would the Pravus have that I don't?"

Hermione thought it over. "Um… enhanced strength and speed, for one. Immortality, immunity to-"

"Hang on," Harry cut her off. "Immortality?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. The Pravus is basically able to survive anything, even a stake to the heart."

Harry frowned as he thought more. "It would make sense. Val got scratched badly by Buckbeak last year and she survived that. Who's to say she can't survive a stake through her heart?"

Val listened to them as she thought it over. If they were right, then with her powers, she'd be a more important pawn in these games.

Ron placed a hand on Val's shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. We're here for you."

Val nodded, worried about what the games could bring, and as she'd find out the next morning, quite a bit.

The next day, Val was with the other champions as they stood or sat in front of a photographer and a blonde woman, all of them getting their photo taken for the Prophet before the woman stepped forward and smiled. "What a charismatic quartet. Hello. I'm Rita Skeeter."

Rita shook each of their hands as she continued, "I write for the Daily Prophet. But of course you know that, don't you? It's you we don't know." She laughed slightly before stroking and patting Fleur's cheek, ruffling Cedric's hair, and standing behind him and Val as she spoke. "You're the juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks? What mysteries do the muscles mask? Does courage lie beneath those curls? In short, what makes a champion tick? Me, Myself, and I want to know, not to mention my rabid readers. So who's feeling up to sharing, hm?"

She looked at Val. "Shall we start with the youngest? Lovely." She pulled Val aside before the halfling could say anything to protest.

The ladies went to a broom closet and ducked inside, Rita humming contently. "This is cozy."

"It's a broom closet." Val made a slight face if confusion.

"You should feel right at home then." Rita moved her to a crate and asked, "Don't mind if I use a Quick Quotes Quill, do you?"

"Oh, not at all, no." Val said politely, taking her seat and looking at the reporter.

"So tell me, Valerie," Rita began as the quill started writing, "here you sit, a mere girl of fourteen about to compete against three students, not only vastly more emotionally intelligent, but who have mastered spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizziest daydreams. Concerned?"

Val blinked slightly. "Uh... I don't know. I haven't really thought that through."

Rita nodded a bit. "I suppose not. But your friend Harry is no ordinary boy of fourteen, is he?"

Val shrugged. "I suppose not. His story is legend among wizardkind. Even among the vampires, he's legendary."

Rita crossed her arms curiously. "Do you think it was a shared kinship between you and Mr. Potter that made you so keen to enter this tournament and protect him?"

Val quickly spoke up. "No! I didn't enter on my own volition!"

Rita gasped slightly and smiled. "Course you didn't. Everyone loves a rebel, Valerie."

Val frowned in confusion as Rita chuckled lightly and spoke to her quill. "Scratch that last."

She returned her focus to Val. "Speaking of the parents for you both, how do you think they'd feel? Proud? Or concerned that your attitude shows at best a pathological need for attention, at worst a psychotic death wish?"

Val had noticed what the quill was writing and made a face. "Hey, my eyes aren't 'glistening with the ghosts of my past'!" This interview was not gonna be pleasant...

Yeah... the aftermath won't be pretty. Eh...