First thing! This chapter and future chapters will be more challenging to write since it is more challenging than I expected.
The Great Hall at Hogwarts buzzed with electric anticipation as students from Hogwarts, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic eagerly awaited the announcement of the champions chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. At the center of the hall, the Goblet of Fire stood, its blue flames flickering brightly.
Dumbledore extinguished all the other flames lighting the room, leaving only the Goblet of Fire to illuminate the hall. One by one, the Goblet revealed the names of the champions. Viktor Krum from Durmstrang, Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons, and finally, Cedric Diggory from Hogwarts were announced. With each name, Dumbledore shook hands with the champions as they stepped forward before being guided to another room to wait.
Dumbledore began his speech:
"Excellent! We have three champions, but in the end, only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of the Triwizard Cup!"
As he spoke, a staff member carefully revealed the Triwizard Cup, previously hidden under ropes. The students erupted in cheers for the chosen champions.
A man with heavy, greasy, shoulder-length black hair, sallow pale skin, and flowing black robes stood apart, observing the scene. Suddenly, his attention shifted to the Goblet of Fire, and he took a few steps closer.
The Goblet's flames began to behave erratically, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Dumbledore approached cautiously as the flames turned red and spat out another piece of parchment. He caught it and read the name aloud, confusion evident in his voice.
"Harry Potter?"
The Goblet of Fire grew wilder, its flames surging and spreading across the floor before forming a tornado of fire. Students scrambled to distance themselves, while the adults rushed to protect them or approach the erratic Goblet.
From within the fiery vortex, a shadow emerged. Slowly, the figure of a young man became visible, one hand shielding his face and the other reaching out as if seeking someone.
"Harry Potter?" Dumbledore repeated, his confusion deepening.
The students and staff watched in stunned silence as the young man fully emerged. He wore an outfit befitting a noble—luxurious and ornate, equally at home in the Muggle or wizarding world. Lowering the hand from his face, the young man took in his surroundings before speaking in a calm, measured tone.
"I haven't heard that name for a very long time."
-=BREAK=-
Harry turned his gaze toward the old man who had called out his long-forgotten name—"Harry Potter." His eyes scanned the room, assessing potential threats and identifying any possible exits should the situation turn hostile.
The whispers of students reached his ears:
"Is that him?"
"Is that Harry Potter?"
"Where has he been?"
And, of course, the more superficial comments:
"Look at his outfit! It's amazing!"
"He looks like a pureblood, but his fashion is even better!"
"He looks way more awesome than in the books! What is he wearing?"
"Harry Potter…" the old man repeated, shock clearly etched across his face.
Harry noticed the adults were staring at him, some gawking outright. What caught his attention most was their stature. They seemed taller than any human he had encountered. He thought to himself, Are they some kind of yokai? His familiarity with the term came from tales told by siblings he had met in Inazuma.
"And as I said," Harry replied, his voice calm but firm, "I haven't heard that name in a long time. I go by a different name now."
"What, then, is your name?" the old man asked, still stunned.
"It's Harry Snezhevich," Harry answered, pride resonating in his voice.
The murmurs began again, speculating about his new surname:
"Snezhevich? Is that Russian?"
"What does that mean?"
"Is he Russian?"
Harry frowned slightly, his thoughts racing. What is Russian? And what is Russia? Where's Russia?
Returning to the matter at hand, Harry addressed the old man. "Let's focus on the current issue... Sir."
"Albus Dumbledore," the old man introduced himself.
"Thank you, Sir Dumbledore," Harry said with polite formality. "What's going on here? Where am I? And why did blue flames surround me before finding myself here?"
Dumbledore nodded, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Finally, he replied, "You are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are hosting the Triwizard Tournament, and the Goblet of Fire appears to have summoned you here after your name was drawn to participate."
Harry blinked in surprise before shaking his head. "Then I must decline. I've never heard of this tournament, and I certainly didn't put my name in any goblet. I was at home."
"I'm afraid that is impossible, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "The magic binding you to the tournament is unbreakable."
Harry frowned. "Magic binding? Does that mean there's some sort of serious punishment if I don't participate?"
Dumbledore nodded solemnly, though uncertainty lingered in his expression.
The students whispered amongst themselves, watching the exchange, while the adults—including the teachers—observed Harry's composed demeanor. Even the Minister of Magic, a certain blond man wearing a horribly designed bee-striped jacket, quickly left to inform the other champions of Harry's participation.
Meanwhile, Harry looked at Dumbledore. "Why do I have this odd, almost instinctive feeling that I must participate? Is there a rulebook for this tournament? Or is it just lost hope for me to avoid this?"
One of the Ministry officials, wearing formal robes, stepped forward. "I'll check into it, Mr. Dumbledore."
"Thank you, Percy. Now, where's Ludovic?" Dumbledore asked.
Percy answered, "I believe he went to inform the other champions that Harry Potter will be joining the tournament."
Sure enough, moments later, the three champions—Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory—returned, accompanied by Ludovic Bagman.
Harry sighed, shaking his head in frustration, suppressing the growing anger he felt toward this Ludovic person. Something about him screamed "idiot," and Harry couldn't help but remain wary of two individuals his instincts flagged as potential threats.
"Sir Dumbledore," Harry said with a sigh, "I'd like to have a private conversation with you later."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, though his expression remained pensive.
-=BREAK=-
It took Percy some time to comb through the Triwizard Tournament Rulebook. Meanwhile, Harry sat silently, watching Percy closely. His gaze occasionally shifted to the man with greasy black hair and the older man wearing a strange, enchanted eye patch that constantly darted around, unsettling him further.
The other three champions returned to sit with their respective schools, each group reacting differently to the bizarre appearance of Harry Potter as the fourth champion. The events surrounding the blue flames summoning him felt almost too far-fetched for some to believe.
"There's nothing in the rules about withdrawing from the tournament," Percy finally announced, closing the book. "And… the listed punishments are vague at best—things like being 'cursed' or even losing one's magic."
This revelation sent waves of murmuring through the hall. The champions themselves exchanged uncertain looks, their feelings about the situation—and Harry—clearly mixed.
Harry let out a deep sigh, his fears confirmed. "Seems like I'm trapped. Just great," he muttered before standing. Moving to the front of the teachers' table, he raised his voice to address the room. "C'mon, champions! Let's get this over with so I can have my private talk with Sir Dumbledore."
The other champions, after some hesitation, stood and joined Harry. Dumbledore then stepped forward to make the formal announcement.
"Once again," he began, his voice carrying over the chatter in the hall, "here are the champions for the Triwizard Tournament."
The room erupted into claps and cheers once more, though the energy was notably subdued compared to earlier celebrations.
-=BREAK=-
Harry now stood in the Headmaster's office, a large circular room filled with towering bookcases, countless accessories, and portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses, each one moving and muttering quietly. The many windows let in a soft glow, but Harry's focus remained on the task at hand.
He had been amazed while walking through the hallways of Hogwarts, observing the animated portraits. The magic was unlike anything he had encountered before. But now, as he faced Albus Dumbledore, his amazement faded into determination.
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his piercing gaze fixed on Harry. "So, Harry," he began, "what do you wish to say?"
Harry took a steadying breath. "Tell me. Is it possible for me to return home to my 'family'... or my world?"
Dumbledore's expression softened. "Harry, tell me a bit more about this 'family.' Where have you been?"
With a sigh, Harry began explaining, careful not to reveal his role as a spy. He spoke about the world of Teyvat, his surrogate family, and the training he had received. He kept the details sparse but couldn't completely hide the pain in his voice as he recalled his darker past. Dumbledore listened intently, though much of it seemed beyond his comprehension. However, something in Harry's words jogged the old wizard's memory.
"My apologies," Dumbledore said after a moment. "It is impossible to travel to another world until whatever purpose brought you here is fulfilled. Even if such magic exists, I doubt anyone has perfected it."
Harry's hands slammed down on the desk in frustration. "There must be a way! Someone must have tried! People are always curious—there's always a solution!"
Dumbledore met his glare calmly. "Perhaps, but if such magic exists, it is either lost, destroyed, or taken with those who used it." He hesitated before adding, "But there is... a possibility."
Harry's anger shifted to curiosity. "What possibility?"
"There is a woman—a peculiar one, with elfin ears. She's extraordinarily powerful, seemingly ageless, and likely hundreds of years old. Her name is Alice. She's known for her eccentric ideas, many of which border on the taboo. She often spoke of her daughter."
Harry couldn't help but laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He knew exactly who Dumbledore was referring to. Alice, the enigmatic author of the Teyvat Travel Guide, was indeed a peculiar individual, but Harry hadn't realized she might have the ability to traverse worlds. Meeting her again seemed like a slim chance, yet he couldn't dismiss it entirely.
Shaking off the thought, Harry refocused. "Can you tell me more about Hogwarts and this tournament?"
Dumbledore nodded, explaining the history and structure of Hogwarts, its houses, the nearby village of Hogsmeade, and the Forbidden Forest. He then detailed the Triwizard Tournament, its traditions, and its challenges.
Harry felt out of depth for the first time in a long while. Back in Teyvat, he had allies and a purpose. Here, he was alone, a fish out of water, forced to navigate an unfamiliar world. His only clear objective now was to survive.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, "perhaps we should sort you into a house."
"No," Harry said firmly.
Dumbledore blinked. "What?"
"No, Sir Dumbledore. I won't be enrolling in your school or any house. I'm already 'enrolled' elsewhere. And I'm not returning to that so-called 'family' of mine."
"Harry," Dumbledore began gently, "this is your home. Your cousin—"
"They are not my family!" Harry's voice rose in anger, his glare piercing. "They treated me like a slave. My real family is the one who found me, gave me a home, and treated me like a person. Don't you dare tell me what's best for me!"
Dumbledore leaned back, taken aback by the outburst. He chose his next words carefully, aware that Harry's raw anger and unfamiliar magic made him unpredictable. Before he could respond, the door opened, and several figures entered—Ministry officials and Hogwarts staff.
"Harry Potter," a voice said.
Harry turned to see a man adjusting his robes with practiced authority. "Who are you?" Harry asked, his tone indifferent.
"I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic," the man replied, clearly expecting a more respectful reaction.
Harry suppressed a groan. A politician. Great. Turning back to Dumbledore, he said, "Sir, it's been a long night. I assume Hogwarts has a guest room where I can rest?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, my boy. Let me show you the way."
"Now, wait just a moment!" Fudge interjected, but Dumbledore cut him off with a firm tone.
"Minister Fudge, it has been a long night. Harry is tired, and we've had many discussions already. I suggest we all get some rest. Professors, I'll return shortly after escorting Harry to the guest quarters."
Fudge grumbled but eventually nodded, while the professors exchanged uncertain glances. Harry, for his part, followed Dumbledore out of the office, leaving the minister and staff behind.
As they walked through the quiet corridors, Harry thought, This is only the beginning.
-=BREAK=-
Harry is now in the guest room, a narrow but cozy bedroom with a private bathroom. The room featured a comfortable bed, a desk with a chair, a bookcase, plenty of candlelight, and a large window offering a view of the night sky.
Sitting on the bed, Harry exhaled deeply, lying back to release the tension that had built throughout the day. So much had happened—leaving his home, finding himself in another world, being summoned to a castle, and now being forced into a deadly tournament. The possibility of revenge or some hidden threat loomed over him, something he would have to face in the days ahead.
Staring at the ceiling, he muttered to himself, "Father… what should I do? I can't make the same mistakes I made when I was younger, back when you found me. What a fantastic start to my independence—thrust into a 'mission' without your guidance."
He sighed again, noticing a set of pajamas laid out neatly on the bed. Deciding there was nothing more he could do tonight, he changed into them and allowed himself to sleep, though his mind remained restless.
-=BREAK=-
Back in the Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore stood near the Pensieve, a metal basin etched with strange runes, staring into its swirling contents. Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Moody were gathered around him, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. Fudge had departed after Harry had been escorted to the guest room.
"Dumbledore? Are we really going to let this happen?" McGonagall asked, her tone sharp but tinged with worry.
Dumbledore, focused on the Pensieve, replied calmly, "Harry will not be sorted into any house tomorrow."
"What do you mean by that?" McGonagall asked, frowning in confusion.
"Harry already belongs to a different 'facility'—one he mentioned but would not elaborate on. From what I understand, this 'facility' trained him extensively. He's vague, but I believe his training will allow him to survive the tournament."
"What exactly did you discuss with the boy?" Snape interjected, his dark eyes narrowing.
Dumbledore relayed the details of his conversation with Harry: his life in another world, his new family, and his determined quest to return home. The professors listened intently, their reactions ranging from shock to incredulity.
"Harry went to another world, survived there, and now calls that world home? This 'family' of his seems to have provided him with love and training, but why does he refer to them as both a 'family' and a 'facility'?" Moody mused, his magical eye swiveling restlessly.
"And he's determined to find a way back to them," Dumbledore added.
"What are we to do, then?" Snape asked curtly.
"We let the tournament proceed," Dumbledore said, his tone resolute. "Minerva, I'd like you to guide Harry around Hogwarts tomorrow. Ensure he's familiar with the grounds. Also, take him to Gringotts so he can access his vault and withdraw funds."
"Very well, Dumbledore," McGonagall replied, though her voice carried an edge of uncertainty.
Dumbledore raised his wand to his temple, drawing out a glowing strand of memory. With a deliberate motion, he placed it into the Pensieve. The memory swirled and resolved into a small, simple piece of parchment bearing the name "Harry Potter."
-=BREAK=-
Back in Teyvat, it was late at the House of Hearth. Arlecchino sat in her office, her expression carefully neutral. But beneath the mask of calm, a storm of anger brewed. Fiona, one of her trusted agents, stood before her, delivering the unsettling report: Harry had been taken. Kidnapped.
And not just anywhere—from their very home.
The method was unmistakably magical, unlike anything she'd encountered before. It was clear that someone or something from Harry's world had reached across the boundaries to drag him back.
Arlecchino's gloved hands tightened into fists, her knuckles white. As the head of the House of Hearth, she had always ensured the safety of her children, and this breach was an unforgivable violation.
Yet, even as her anger simmered, a cold, calculated part of her held back. She knew Harry. He was no ordinary child. If anyone could navigate the situation, it was him.
"Harry will fight to return," Arlecchino said finally, her voice as cold and sharp as steel. "And when he does, he'll have answers. But mark my words—whoever dared to cross me, to steal from my family, will pay in kind."
Fiona nodded solemnly. "The children… they're worried. Some more than others, especially those closest to Harry."
"I expected as much," Arlecchino said, rising from her desk. "Reassure them for now. Let them know Harry is resourceful and will find a way to reach us. Until then, we prepare. If he contacts us, I want immediate reports."
"Yes, Father." Fiona bowed and left the room.
As the door closed, Arlecchino turned to gaze out of the window into the moonlit landscape of Teyvat. Her mind churned with plans and contingencies, her fury tempered by the cold resolve of a mother who would stop at nothing to protect her family.
For now, she would wait. But only for now.
Finally! This is chapter done! So many challenges going through the writing of this chapter. Thinking which is best like 'Should Harry enroll in Hogwarts' and further researching on Hogwarts.
I found out that they are 'Guest Rooms' thanks to the Marauders map. And the personality of the character! Oh, what a pain, and trying to figure out how Hogwarts would react to Harry arriving through flames!