Beyond the Boundaries of Time Chapter 4: A Rift Between Worlds, a Harry Potter + Fallout Crossover fanfic

Chapter 4: A Rift Between Worlds

Disclaimer: I Don't own Harry Potter or Fallout

Four years had passed since that fateful Christmas in the simulated 1950s New York City, when Violet Potter—formerly Harry Potter—was just ten years old. Now, on October 31st, 2194, she was fourteen and living a life beyond any conventional measure of possibility. Her intellectual growth had only accelerated over time, guided by the infinite resources of Vault 112's archives and the dedicated mentorship of Dr. Jennifer Braun, her adoptive mother and confidante.

Violet had grown taller, her features evolving into a striking blend of youthful femininity and keen intellect. She wore her dark hair shoulder-length, typically tied back for convenience while conducting experiments. The near-constant light of curiosity shone in her emerald eyes—eyes she had inherited from her birth mother, Lily. The wizarding world (of which she'd only read fleeting references) might have lauded those same green eyes with a sort of heroic reverence, but that life was a million miles away in time and space. At least, it had been for the past four years.

Today, as in so many recent weeks, Violet spent the crisp morning hours in a laboratory setting within Vault 112's newest simulation environment: a modern scientific compound reminiscent of old-world research facilities. Sleek steel countertops gleamed under bright overhead lights, shelves brimmed with glass flasks and chemical reagents, and the faint hum of climate control systems punctuated the silence. She wore a white lab coat—tailored to fit her growing frame—along with latex gloves, protective glasses, and sturdy shoes. Jennifer Braun wore similar garb. Mother and daughter moved around a long steel table, measuring precise amounts of chemicals and taking meticulous notes on a terminal.

Although the overhead date read "October 31st, 2194," it was more an administrative detail than a reflection of the environment outside. In this pocket of existence, within the virtual reality of Vault 112, Jennifer could set the simulation to any place or time. Yet they kept track of real-world dates out of habit, if only to measure Violet's birthdays and track her age. That morning, they had shared a quiet reflection over breakfast about how much had changed since Violet was ten. She had mastered advanced mathematics, quantum mechanics, engineering, multiple combat styles, and spoken more than twenty languages with near-flawless fluency—an array of skills designed to prepare her for any eventual possibility, should she ever leave Vault 112.

But of all her accomplishments, Violet was proudest of the continued exploration of her anomalous power—"Arcane Field Resonance" (AFR). During these four years, she and Jennifer had devised a comprehensive theoretical framework around her abilities. They discovered that AFR's activation followed certain laws reminiscent of quantum entanglement, shaped by emotion and intent. In many ways, it resembled the magic described in those perplexingDaily Prophetarticles from decades before, though Violet had no wand or incantations. Jennifer posited that perhaps these wizard folk used a specialized channeling device to focus an underlying phenomenon, whereas Violet's unique experiences had led her to manipulate it directly.

Despite the leaps in understanding, countless mysteries remained. Violet often wondered how her parents, Lily and James, might have guided her if they'd lived. In quiet moments, she still felt that pang of longing for the family that was robbed from her. Yet over the years, she had learned to accept that in the continuum from which she came, they were gone. She had Jennifer now, as devoted a mother as any child could wish for.

Which brought them to this morning. Both mother and daughter, clad in white lab coats and sporting matching sets of goggles, hovered over a row of beakers containing luminescent solutions. Each beaker held a different chemical reagent designed to react with faint pulses of AFR. They'd measured micro-lifts in temperature, color variations, even changes in molecular structure. Violet had been carefully feeding small pulses of her energy into each test tube, and the results were exhilarating.

"Watch the third beaker, Mum," Violet said, voice steady but brimming with excitement. "It's turning violet—like the color of my name."

Jennifer adjusted her own goggles, leaning in close. "Impressive. The solution was originally bright green. Now the pH reading is shifting dramatically. Let me take a sample."

She inserted a digital pipette and extracted a small quantity, depositing it onto a sensor plate. A readout screen scrolled data. "Fascinating," Jennifer murmured. "In the span of five seconds, it increased acidity by a factor of... oh my, nearly three hundred. That's consistent with your last attempt, but the scale is even higher. You're generating some sort of field resonance that's reorganizing molecular bonds."

Violet blushed with pride, though her voice stayed humble. "I still can't do it consistently on a large scale. But for small amounts... it's stable."

Jennifer cast her a fond grin. "You're doing wonderfully. I'd say this kind of daughter-mother science session is about as good as it gets for me. How about you?"

A soft laugh escaped Violet's lips. "Me too. I love this. I... guess this is what real bonding looks like, yeah?"

"Absolutely," Jennifer affirmed. "Sometimes I almost forget you came to me from another reality. You feel like you've always been mine."

Before Violet could respond, a subtle quiver ran through the lab. The overhead lights flickered. A static pop echoed, and the simulation environment seemed to ripple, like a reflection on water disturbed by a pebble. Jennifer's Pip-Boy—an advanced device strapped to her forearm—began flashing an urgent alert in red letters.

"Distortion event," Jennifer muttered, stepping away from the experiment. "We haven't had an anomaly like this since... well, since you first arrived here."

Her eyes darted to Violet, who swallowed nervously, a chill coursing through her veins. They both recognized that Vault 112's simulation was stable—unless something beyond it tampered with the code. Another wave of flickers danced across the lab, and the overhead lights hissed.

"Mum?" Violet asked, voice taut. "Is it possible someone's crossing the boundaries again?"

Jennifer typed furiously on a console. "I'm scanning external signals. Wait... there's something unusual in the system logs. A date mismatch... October 31st, 1994? This is referencing your old dimension's timeline!"

A sudden whoosh of energy erupted from the far side of the lab. Blue-white fire flared, swirling like a vortex. The protective glass around the beakers rattled, and a burst of air whipped Violet's hair around her face. She clutched the lab table, wide-eyed. The swirl of fire coalesced into a pulsing column that vaguely resembled the shape of a tall chalice.

She glanced at Jennifer, voice shaking. "Mum, that shape... it's like a giant goblet."

Jennifer's eyebrows shot up. "The... Goblet of Fire, from that wizarding story? It can't be—"

Her words were cut short when the column of flame roared, bright enough to force them both to shield their eyes. In a split second, the laboratory floor vanished beneath their feet. A feeling of falling gripped Violet's gut, and she heard Jennifer cry out in alarm. Their carefully arranged chemical table, the beakers, the overhead lights, everything in Vault 112 blurred into a rushing swirl of light.

Then, quite suddenly, they landed on solid ground, knees buckling from the jarring impact. The swirl of blue flame vanished behind them. Violet blinked frantically to adjust to the new surroundings.

A wave of sound struck her: a cacophony of gasps, exclamations, and shouts. She blinked again, eyes refocusing, and realized they stood in a huge hall illuminated by floating candles. Banners of red, green, blue, and yellow lined the walls. Hundreds of students in robes gazed at them with open-mouthed shock from four lengthy tables. At the front of the hall, a large podium overlooked everything, flanked by faculty in wizarding robes and pointed hats. A single large chalice near them—obviously the real Goblet of Fire—spit out a piece of parchment that fluttered to the floor.

Violet's heart thudded wildly. She recognized it, at once, from the old newspapers: Hogwarts' Great Hall, the wizarding school's famed dining chamber. A swirl of conflicting emotions rose in her: awe, shock, confusion, and a fierce desire to cling to Jennifer.

An older man with half-moon glasses, a flowing beard of white, and vividly colorful robes—unmistakably Albus Dumbledore—stood near the Goblet. His expression was thunderstruck. Another older woman in emerald robes (Professor McGonagall, if Violet recalled from the archives) looked equally speechless. Nearby, two other wizards—one short and broad with a mustache (likely Professor Flitwick) and another severe-looking woman with a hawk-like gaze (Madam Maxime? Or was that someone else?)—gawked at them.

But it was Dumbledore who gathered himself first, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. "Harry Potter?" he called, voice echoing across the silent hall. "Where is Harry Potter? We... the Goblet called your name—"

His eyes swept from Jennifer to Violet, confusion darkening his brow. "You must be... but you're a girl. And who is this other... person?"

Jennifer shot a quick glance at Violet, then stepped forward protectively, still wearing her lab coat, gloves, and goggles perched on her forehead. "We do not appreciate being yanked out of our laboratory in the middle of a delicate experiment," she snapped, ignoring the stares of hundreds of robed teenagers. "And for your information, this child is Violet Potter. She has not been called 'Harry' in years. And I am Dr. Jennifer Braun, her mother."

A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. At the staff table, a heavyset man with a lime-green bowler hat—Cornelius Fudge, presumably, the Minister for Magic—half-stood from his seat, mouth agape. "What is the meaning of this?" he sputtered.

Meanwhile, a second swirl of flames erupted from the Goblet. Dumbledore whirled back, catching the slip of parchment that spat out. He read it in stunned silence, then turned back to them. "It says Harry Potter must compete in the Triwizard Tournament."

Now some of the students were on their feet, craning their necks. Teachers exchanged alarmed glances. The delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, presumably, looked perplexed. Ludo Bagman, the round-faced wizard famous for his Quidditch commentary, stared on from a corner, stunned. Nearby, a stern-faced witch with square-rimmed glasses—Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—observed with sharp interest.

Violet's mind Triwizard Tournament... that's the event from 1994, isn't it? The year Hogwarts hosted. The Goblet was supposed to choose champions. But something or someone threw 'Harry Potter' into the running.

Jennifer's protective instincts flared. She raised a hand as though to physically shield Violet. "Are you telling me that this... archaic device forcibly pulled my daughter across dimensions to compete in a deadly game?"

Dumbledore's jaw tightened. "The Goblet is a powerful magical artifact. I assure you, Dr. Braun, we never intended—"

"Well, you sure didn't do much topreventit!" Jennifer cut in acidly, her voice echoing. She pressed a few buttons on her Pip-Boy, scanning the environment. "Your wards or protective measures are worthless, apparently. If your so-called device can breach space-time and drag us in the middle of a mother-daughter bonding experiment, it's a testament to your appallingly shoddy security."

A ripple of shock went through the hall. Albus Dumbledore, revered by most, had rarely—if ever—been addressed with such scorn by a total stranger. Murmurs erupted among the staff and students. Hermione Granger, a bushy-haired girl sitting at the Gryffindor table, wore an expression that combined surprise, fascination, and rising alarm. She alone seemed to understand the gravity of Jennifer's outfit—white coat, goggles, gloves—like a Muggle scientist. But how had they arrived here?

At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy openly gawked. "What... that's Harry Potter? Potter's... agirl? And who's the Muggle?"

Jennifer bristled at that word. She pinned the pale-haired boy with a glare, but decided not to direct her wrath at a child. Instead, she turned to Dumbledore. "One more thing: I understand from reading certain archives that you magical folk call non-wizards 'Muggles.' I find that term quite condescending. For the sake of civility, would you kindly refer to me as a 'mundane' if you must? Or simply call me Dr. Braun. I am not your archaic label."

Mad-Eye Moody—actually Barty Crouch Jr. in disguise—lurking on the periphery, froze in mounting confunded the Goblet to ensure Harry Potter's name rose forth, but never in his wildest nightmares did he had planned on the scrawny boy from the Dursleys, pliable and ignorant, easy to manipulate. Instead, a fourteen-year-oldgirlwho looked nothing like the boy he recalled from intelligence briefs, and a terrifying woman in a lab coat. The plan to resurrect Voldemort was in jeopardy.

"What is the meaning of this?" snapped the imposing figure of Madam Olympe Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons, looming near the staff table. She towered over those nearby. "Is zis girl truly 'Arry Potter? Zis eez all quite irregular!"

"Irregular doesn't begin to cover it," Jennifer retorted.

A swirl of whispers and speculation washed over the four Hogwarts tables. Students tried to catch a glimpse of the newly arrived pair. This was supposed to be the day the Goblet revealed which three students—one from each participating school—would compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Instead, the Goblet had spat out a fourth name, "Harry Potter," which apparently belonged to an entirely different individual than the wizarding world expected.

Dumbledore, face pale, stepped forward again, drawing in a shaky breath. "Madam Bones," he said, addressing the stern witch near the dais, "Might I ask your assistance in clarifying the legality of this? The Goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. If it has chosen this... er, child, we must ascertain how it happened."

Amelia Bones, wearing her usual no-nonsense expression, adjusted her monocle. "We will indeed clarify this. But first, I want an immediate explanation of how any 'Harry Potter' ended up as a girl named Violet, accompanied by—" She turned to Jennifer. "You say you are her mother? And you appear to be a mundane scientist."

Jennifer nodded curtly. "I adopted Violet four years ago. She was known as Harry Potter in a past life, or rather in a dimension where she was abused by relatives and forcibly suppressed by certain manipulative parties. She has no interest in playing your little magical games. Now, if you will let us return—"

"You can't just leave!" exclaimed Ludo Bagman, stepping forward. "The Triwizard Tournament is a crucial competition. The Goblet's decision is final. If this child's name came out, she is bound to compete—"

Jennifer cut him off with an incredulous scoff. "Bound by your archaic nonsense? You think you can forcibly conscript a child into a lethal contest? I think not."

A wave of disapproval flashed across the teachers' faces. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, but she remained silent. Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang, flicked his eyes nervously between them, clearly unsettled. Students at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables whispered in excitement. The Head of Slytherin, Professor Snape, stood with crossed arms, expression unreadable but gaze locked on Violet as though analyzing every detail.

Meanwhile, Barty Crouch Jr. (as Moody) stared, mind is catastrophic. The entire plan is in he forced an ominous scowl, trying to maintain the persona of the ex-Auror. "I say we proceed. That's the rule of the Goblet," he growled, hoping to salvage the situation.

Violet, trembling from nerves but also from rising anger, spoke up in a measured tone. "I have read about this tournament. It's notoriously dangerous. You have a minimum age restriction, do you not? I believe a fourteen-year-old is well below that age line."

Dumbledore nodded reluctantly. "Yes, that's true. We put an Age Line around the Goblet. No one under seventeen could submit their name. That's precisely why this is so baffling. Some... force or deception... must have placed your name in it. If the Goblet recognized 'Harry Potter,' it forcibly sought you out."

Jennifer's lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, I can guess who might want to force my child into danger. I suspect you, Dumbledore, are partly to blame."

A collective intake of breath rippled across the hall. The thought of Albus Dumbledore being accused of wrongdoing in front of the entire school was startling, to say the least. Dumbledore bristled. "I assure you, I had no knowledge—"

"Then you're an even bigger fool than I assumed," Jennifer snapped back. "A powerful artifact inyourschool rips a child across reality to fight in some barbaric tournament, and you claim you had no idea? Either you're complicit or you're negligent."

Gasps. McGonagall looked scandalized. Some students murmured outrage at anyone calling Dumbledore a "fool." Others, more cynical, watched with a flicker of interest—someone was finally challenging the revered Headmaster.

Cornelius Fudge cleared his throat, trying to sound authoritative. "N-now, see here, Dr. Braun, I am the Minister for Magic. This matter is a serious breach of wizard law, but I must insist that you mind your tone. Professor Dumbledore is a distinguished wizard who has only the best intentions—"

Jennifer gave him a withering glare. "Minister for Magic, is it? If your best intentions involve forcibly abducting children, your society is more backward than I feared. My daughter and I have advanced beyond such medieval nonsense. We have no desire to remain."

At the mention of leaving, the entire staff table seemed to tense. Alastor Moody (Barty Jr.) barked, "You can't skip out on the Goblet's contract! That's final."

"Try to stop us," Jennifer said icily. "But I warn you, we are not defenseless."

Violet saw the flush of anger creeping up her mother's cheeks. She recognized that look—Jennifer Braun was about to unleash a demonstration of just why she was once the most fearsome mind in Vault 112.

Before anyone could react, Jennifer tapped several commands into her Pip-Boy. A holographic display flickered to life above her wrist. Then she uttered a single phrase, "Equipping Big Boy," in a calm, menacing voice.

A shimmer of digital distortion flickered across her body, reminiscent of advanced technology drawing from an inventory. In her hands materialized an enormous, bulky contraption made of dark metal. It had a squat, mortar-like launcher, thick grips, and a complex loading mechanism at the top. The weapon looked so large that a smaller person might struggle to even lift it.

Gasps rose from the crowd. The witches and wizards, mostly unfamiliar with advanced Muggle technology, stared at the heavy weapon in confusion. Yet a few—like Hermione Granger—turned pale with horror, recognizing something akin to a rocket launcher.

"Allow me to introduce the Big Boy," Jennifer said, voice dripping with cold precision. "It's a specialized iteration of the Fat Man launcher. You see, in our timeline, Mugg—excuse me—mundanes developed nuclear fission bombs capable of eradicating entire cities in seconds. Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, ring a bell to the more historically literate among you?"

Hermione's face went ashen. She remembered all too well from her Muggle upbringing. Hiroshima and Nagasaki had killed tens of thousands, ushering in an age of nuclear fear. The idea of aportablenuke was beyond terrifying.

Jennifer rested the Big Boy on her shoulder, taking care not to point it at the crowd directly. "This particular device fires mini nukes. With the modifications I've installed, it can shoot two warheads simultaneously for the price of one. If I attach a MIRV launcher, I can spawn a cluster of a dozen nukes midair, each capable of leveling this entire castle—assuming you folks still call it a castle—plus the terrain around it."

A disbelieving scoff rose from some of the pureblood wizard students. Draco Malfoy sneered, "Muggles can't do such a thing. This is all bluff. No worthless non-magic can rival wizard power."

Jennifer's glare snapped to him. Her voice turned deadly quiet. "Little boy, you have no idea how small your world is. You scoff at nuclear devastation? The Great War in my timeline exterminated 80% of the global population in the span of two hours. The subsequent radioactive fallout nearly finished the rest. The reason we survived is that we hid in advanced vaults built by science. Not magic."

A hush choked the hall. Even the wizard-born students who didn't comprehend nuclear warfare felt an undercurrent of dread in her words. Hermione, trembling, gave Draco a furious look. "She's not lying, you prat," she hissed. "Our world had bombs—huge bombs—worse than you can imagine. Millions would die in an instant if they used them again."

Malfoy paled. He might not fully believe it, but Hermione's fear was real enough to make him hesitate.

Meanwhile, Jennifer let the Big Boy vanish again into her Pip-Boy's inventory system, demonstrating advanced technology that confounded the watchers. She folded her arms. "We do not wish to kill or threaten innocents. But if you force my hand, I will do whatever it takes to protect my daughter. Is that clear?"

Amelia Bones stepped forward, holding up her palms in a placating gesture. "Dr. Braun, let us calm ourselves. We do not desire conflict. This entire fiasco is as much a shock to us as it is to you."

The corners of Jennifer's mouth were tight. "Then let us go. Or better yet, if you want to find the culprit responsible for dragging Violet into this farce, maybe start by investigating your own staff and so-called 'Headmaster.' The manipulations around this Goblet smell of sabotage."

All eyes turned to Dumbledore. The old wizard looked deeply troubled, but not particularly guilty. "I... I had no intention of endangering the child," he began. "I can vow on my magic that I did not tamper with the Goblet."

Jennifer studied him, her expression still hawkish. "Then someone else did. Possibly in your staff's midst." She swung her gaze around. Moody—Barty Jr.—shifted uncomfortably, trying to blend with the shadows.

Cornelius Fudge stepped in front of Dumbledore as if to defend him. "The Headmaster's integrity is beyond question," Fudge declared. "But you must understand, Dr. Braun, the Goblet's contract is irrevocable. If your daughter truly is the Harry Potter it selected, she must compete. Unless you can find a legal loophole."

Jennifer folded her arms. "Legal loophole? This is an underage girl you abducted from another dimension. Are your laws truly that archaic?"

At that, the stern figure of Professor McGonagall drew herself up, a faint flush on her cheeks. "The Triwizard Tournament does carry a strict contract for those whose names are chosen. However, there is significant question as to whether 'Harry Potter' is, in fact, Miss Violet Potter. The entire premise might be invalid if her legal identity is recognized differently."

Dumbledore touched the Goblet's rim, an exasperated frown deepening. "We must consult the magic that bound this tournament. If the Goblet forcibly summoned her, that suggests it recognizes her as 'Harry Potter.' But if she no longer identifies as such, there may be room for interpretation."

Madam Maxime, crossing her arms, nodded. "Zis eez not something we can solve in front of ze entire school. We must convene privately. Perhaps we should move to a smaller chamber and discuss."

Jennifer turned to Violet, gently brushing her shoulder. "Are you all right, sweet girl? I know this is overwhelming."

Violet managed a tiny nod, swallowing hard. "I'm okay, Mum. Just... a bit unnerved." She glanced around at the sea of gawking students. "I didn't want this. I was just doing an experiment with you."

Sympathy flickered in Jennifer's eyes. She pressed a hand to Violet's cheek. "We'll find a way to fix this, I promise."

At that moment, Amelia Bones cleared her throat. "Yes, let's proceed to a secure location. Professors, Minister, Dr. Braun, Miss Potter—please follow me. The rest of you," she addressed the students, "are dismissed. Return to your common rooms. The Triwizard champion selection is postponed until we resolve this... unprecedented situation."

A flurry of whispered conversation broke out among the students. Some seemed disappointed, others outraged or mystified. Yet they began filing out, eyes darting to Violet and Jennifer as they left. Hermione Granger lingered near the door, curiosity evident, but eventually she too was urged on by her fellow Gryffindors.

Soon, only a small group remained: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Moody (Barty Jr.), Fudge, Bagman, Amelia Bones, and a few other key figures such as Karkaroff and Madam Maxime. With them, of course, Jennifer and Violet. Together, they traversed the corridors of Hogwarts until they reached a large office with a carved gargoyle outside. Inside lay a spacious, circular room lined with shelves of curiosities, whirring instruments, and portraits of past headmasters dozing in their frames.

Amelia Bones took charge, motioning for everyone to gather around a large wooden table. Violet and Jennifer took seats on one side, lab coats still on, gloves removed but goggles perched atop their heads. Dumbledore sat opposite them, flanked by McGonagall and Snape. Fudge stood off to the side, posture stiff. The foreign heads of school, Karkaroff and Maxime, hovered uncertainly near the fireplace. Barty Jr. (Moody) tried to remain inconspicuous, though tension radiated from him.

Amelia began: "Firstly, let me clarify the known facts. The Goblet of Fire is set to pick three champions—one each from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. We had concluded the selection, naming Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory."

Violet perked up at that mention, recalling the famous names from the old archives. Sothiswas the year Cedric died—if the original timeline still played out. She felt a surge of sadness.

Amelia continued, "Then the Goblet unexpectedly produced a fourth name: 'Harry Potter.' Instead of the boy many expected, we have Miss Violet Potter, accompanied by Dr. Jennifer Braun, forcibly summoned from... another dimension. Is that correct?"

Jennifer nodded once. "Yes. We hail from Vault 112, though that likely means little to you. In our timeline, the year is 2194. We have progressed technologically far beyond your 1994. Violet was once known as Harry Potter, but she was transported away from your dimension at the age of eight. She has been under my care for the last six years—"

"Four years," Violet gently corrected, "I was ten when we celebrated that Christmas in New York simulation."

Jennifer gave a small smile. "Right. Feels longer. In any event, we do not consent to this forced competition. We want answers and a method to return home."

Fudge fiddled nervously with his bowler hat. "You say it's 2194 in your dimension? That's preposterous—"

"Minister," Amelia cut in sharply, "enough. We're dealing with extraordinary magic or phenomena. Let's not dismiss their claims out of hand."

Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together, looking deeply contemplative. "If what you say is true, Miss Potter vanished from our world around 1988. We found no trace of her aside from her relatives' claims that she went missing one night. The magical wards around her home had collapsed. We never understood how or why."

Jennifer gave a short nod. "Yes, well, that was the Dursleys, who physically abused her. She fled that household at eight years old, her dormant magic apparently surging, dragging her to my vault's simulation. I discovered her, nurtured her, and now she's my daughter. So, your attempts to bring her back using this Goblet are at best incompetent, at worst malevolent."

A loaded silence followed. McGonagall, tight-lipped, cast an apologetic glance at Violet. Snape's expression flickered with something akin to guilt, though he said nothing.

"Regardless of how it happened," Amelia said, "we must address the binding contract. The Goblet's magic is ancient. If it recognized her as Harry Potter, the usual rule is that she's obligated to compete."

Jennifer bristled. "I reject that. Or if you insist, present me with your statutes, and I'll tear them apart. In my dimension, no contract can forcibly conscript a minor into mortal peril. That is slavery."

Barty Jr. (Moody) intervened with a growl, trying to maintain cover. "Magical oath is no small matter, woman. The penalty for breaching it can be dire. If the Goblet sees her as a rightful champion, stepping aside might cause a magical backlash."

Jennifer looked unimpressed. "Let me guess: spontaneous combustion, curses, or other nonsense? Possibly. But we will find a way around it. I suspect the real culprit is whoever put her name in the Goblet to begin with. That infiltration might invalidate the contract."

"True," Amelia admitted. "If the name was inserted fraudulently, that might free Miss Potter from the obligation. The question is:whodid it, and how did they do so without detection?"

At this, Jennifer's gaze flicked around the room. "My guess? Someone with a vested interest in seeing 'Harry Potter' show up at Hogwarts. Perhaps to fulfill a prophecy or to use her in some twisted scheme. Dumbledore might not be behind it, but it seems likely the sabotage came from within these walls."

Barty Crouch Jr. swallowed, heart pounding. He needed to deflect suspicion. "What if we simply proceed with the plan? She competes, the tasks unfold, the Ministry oversees. If it was sabotage, the culprit might reveal themselves."

Jennifer's eyes narrowed. "I do not throw my daughter into a death trap to catch a saboteur."

Barty Jr. forced a sneer, playing the role of Moody. "Lass, do you have the skill to survive a tournament of dragons, underwater mazes, and possibly more? Real dangerous foes?"

Violet, quietly steeling herself, answered. "I might be more capable than you think. But I have no desire to fight for your entertainment."

A flicker of something crossed Snape's face—surprise, curiosity. He'd long assumed Harry Potter would be a brash, attention-seeking boy. Instead, he saw a composed girl, wreathed in scientific logic, politely refusing a lethal game. It challenged every assumption.

Amelia Bones tapped her chin. "We must find an equitable solution. The Ministry can't afford a fiasco. The other schools expect a Triwizard competition. But no one foresaw a forcibly summoned champion. Dr. Braun, Miss Potter, would you be willing to remain at Hogwarts for a short time—under special security—while we investigate who tampered with the Goblet? If we can prove the entry was fraudulent, we can attempt to nullify the contract."

Jennifer exhaled, glancing at Violet. "Would you be comfortable staying temporarily, under the condition we can leave at any moment if things seem too dangerous?"

Violet weighed the question. Shewascurious about the wizarding world. She'd read about Hogwarts, pictured these corridors, the classes, the ghosts. Yet being forced to stay rankled her. Still, if it was the only way to avoid an immediate magical backlash, perhaps it was worth a short delay.

"All right," she said softly, placing a hand on Jennifer's forearm. "But only for a short time, and only if we are guaranteed safety."

Amelia nodded, relief evident. "We will place wards around your chambers, Dr. Braun. You have my word as Head of the DMLE that no harm shall befall either of you here."

Karkaroff huffed, "And what of the tournament? My champion, Viktor Krum, expects a fair game. If Potter is indeed a champion, she must compete. We will not stand for an easy withdrawal."

Maxime added, "Oui, if 'Arry Potter is chosen, removing her changes everyzing."

Dumbledore lifted his hands. "This calls for further deliberation. For tonight, we can at least ensure Dr. Braun and Miss Potter have a safe place to rest. Tomorrow, we will reconvene."

Jennifer regarded him with a frosty stare. "Fine. But know this, Dumbledore: if anything threatens my daughter, if you so much as raise a wand to her without consent, I will not hesitate to use lethal force. Understood?"

The headmaster nodded gravely. "Understood."

Fudge tried to salvage some authority. "Yes, well, I'll have Aurors posted to ensure everything is... above board."

Amelia Bones shot him a look. "I'll select the Aurors, Minister."

Jennifer nodded, rising from her seat. "Lead us to these quarters, then."

Dumbledore gestured for McGonagall to do so, and the older witch promptly guided them out of the office. The group dispersed, though a wave of hushed arguments and tense whispers followed them. Karkaroff and Maxime left, grumbling. Fudge stomped off to find an excuse to cover his embarrassment. Meanwhile, Barty Crouch Jr., after everyone was gone, let out a shaky just witnessed something beyond his control: the real Harry Potter was a self-possessed girl, accompanied by a terrifying mother with nuclear would the Dark Lord want him to handle this?

They traversed the corridors, McGonagall leading the way, her posture rigid. Violet gazed around with wide eyes. The moving portraits, the shifting staircases, the flickering torches—it was like stepping into a fairytale castle. Yet it also felt unnervingly ancient and alien. She recalled reading about Hogwarts in the oldDaily Prophetclippings. Seeing it in person was both mesmerizing and disorienting.

Jennifer, though equally intrigued, kept her expression guarded. She scanned the hallways, probably mapping them via the Pip-Boy's scanning function. She occasionally whispered remarks to Violet about architectural inefficiencies or structural hazards.

McGonagall at last paused outside a large wooden door. "This is an unused professor's suite. We've spelled it for comfort. I will place additional wards keyed to you and to Dr. Braun, so no one may enter uninvited. Would that be acceptable?"

Jennifer nodded. "Yes. But I have my own security measures, as well."

With a wave of her wand, McGonagall murmured incantations in a precise, clipped tone. Violet watched with analytical interest, comparing these swirling runes of light to her own intangible AFR manipulations. She wondered if she could replicate them without a wand or incantation.

The door swung open. Inside lay a cozy sitting area with a warm fireplace, two armchairs, and a small adjoining bedroom. The décor was typically Hogwarts: tapestries depicting mystical creatures, wooden floors with antique rugs.

Violet felt a pang of familiarity despite never having been this is what wizarding living spaces look like...

McGonagall turned to face them, her demeanor serious but with a flicker of genuine concern in her eyes. "I realize this is abrupt. I'm sorry for any distress you've suffered. I was once a close friend of Lily Potter—your mother. If you have any questions, or if there's anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, do let me know."

Violet's heart twisted at the mention of Lily. "Thank you," she said softly. "I appreciate it. I just... I don't know what to ask right now."

McGonagall nodded. "That's understandable. I'll leave you, then." She glanced at Jennifer. "I do hope we can resolve this peacefully. Albus... for all his faults, he truly cares about the greater good. I only wish you could see that."

Jennifer's lips thinned. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Professor. I reserve judgment."

With that, McGonagall bid them a subdued goodnight, shutting the door behind her. A faint glow traced the frame as the wards took hold. Jennifer locked the door from her side as well, pressing a code into her Pip-Boy.

They stood in silence for a moment, letting the reality settle in. Violet exhaled shakily, removing her goggles fully and setting them on a table. "Mum, I can't believe we're really here."

Jennifer slid out of her lab coat, draping it over a chair. "Neither can I, darling. But we'll handle this. First things first—let's see if we can reestablish contact with Vault 112."

She tapped a few commands into the Pip-Boy. An error beeped. "No signal. Figures. This castle might be blocking the dimensional link. We'll need to find another way."

Violet approached a window. It overlooked the Hogwarts grounds: a wide lawn, the Black Lake glimmering under a moonlit sky, and the silhouette of the Forbidden Forest beyond. Tiny lights from the greenhouses dotted the distance. It was breathtaking, in a somber, medieval way.

"Part of me always wanted to see this," she admitted, voice hushed. "But not like this. Not forced. Not threatened by that tournament."

Jennifer laid a hand on Violet's shoulder. "We'll figure it out. If we must prove the Goblet's contract was falsified, so be it. If that fails, we might have to... well, we'll see. I won't let them kill you in some archaic bloodsport."

A small, wry smile flickered across Violet's face. "I do think I could handle their tasks. But I'd rather not, if it's just for the amusement of a crowd."

Jennifer nodded. "We'll see how the investigation goes. In the meantime, we should rest."

They each claimed a separate bed in the adjoining room—though both were wide awake with adrenaline. After they'd changed into more comfortable attire (Jennifer conjured simple pajamas from her inventory system, while Violet used a quick function on the simulation tool embedded in the Pip-Boy), they settled in. The flickering fire in the sitting room cast dancing shadows across the walls, and the ancient stone architecture lent the air a mild chill.

For a long while, neither spoke, each lost in her own thoughts. Violet stared at the vaulted this how my life might have been if I'd stayed? A bed in Hogwarts, waiting for classes, living under Dumbledore's shadow? Would I have known Hermione as a friend, or would I have faced bullies like Draco Malfoy alone?

At last, Jennifer's quiet voice broke the stillness. "Violet, I'm sorry if I seemed too harsh in front of them. I just... I can't stand the idea of them taking you away from me."

Violet turned to look at her adoptive mother in the neighboring bed. "Don't apologize, Mum. I'm grateful you protect me. If you hadn't threatened them with the Big Boy, they might have tried to strong-arm us into accepting the tournament."

Jennifer sighed, a faint smile tugging her lips. "Yes, well, nuclear deterrence, I suppose. Still, I don't want to become the monster. I just... want them to understand we're not pushovers."

A comfortable pause followed. Violet's heart felt warm despite the circumstances. All these years, Jennifer had been her rock—fiercely protective, brilliant, and loving. She wondered how Lily and James would feel, seeing her with this new mother, in a realm beyond their imagining. She suspected they'd be relieved that someone cared enough to fight for her.

Eventually, weariness caught up with them. Violet drifted into a fitful sleep, her dreams filled with swirling illusions of Goblets spitting out parchment, nuclear blasts, and strange magical tasks. She half-saw flashes of a labyrinth, a dragon's roar, a shimmering underwater city, and an old graveyard. Looming behind it all was a shadowy figure, eyes gleaming red, beckoning her forward. She tossed and turned, heart pounding until the morning light finally broke.

The following day dawned with a hush across Hogwarts. Word of the bizarre new champion—and her terrifying mother—had spread overnight, fueling endless gossip among students and staff alike. As Violet and Jennifer made their way to the Great Hall for a scheduled meeting with Ministry officials and Hogwarts staff, they encountered stares from every direction. Some, like Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, offered tentative smiles or curious waves. Others, like Malfoy, sneered or whispered behind their hands.

Jennifer paid them no heed, striding purposefully in her lab coat, goggles tucked in a pocket, latex gloves peeking out from her belt. She scanned the corridors as though analyzing an alien environment. Violet followed closely, arms crossed, feeling a potent blend of anxiety and fascination. She wondered if she might speak to Hermione at some point—one of the few who might understand how horrific nuclear weaponry could be.

At the entrance to the Great Hall, they were met by Amelia Bones, who gave them a cordial nod. "Good morning. We've arranged a conference room near the staff quarters. The Minister insists on being present, along with Mr. Bagman and others. Headmasters Karkaroff and Maxime will attend. And, of course, Dumbledore."

Jennifer brushed a speck of dust from her coat. "Lead the way."

They ascended a small staircase and found a large wooden door guarded by two stone gargoyles. Inside was a stately conference room, panelled in dark oak, with a long table surrounded by chairs. At one end sat Fudge, fidgeting with some parchment. Beside him stood Ludo Bagman in bright yellow robes, wearing a strained smile. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Karkaroff, and Maxime were already seated. Barty Crouch Sr. was there too, looking pale and frail—nothing like the dynamic persona he'd once projected in the war. Near him, disguised as Moody, lurked Barty Jr., watchful and silent.

Once everyone had settled, Amelia Bones called the meeting to order. "We are here to address the contested entry of Miss Violet Potter in the Triwizard Tournament." She glanced around. "I have, at Dr. Braun's request, begun an investigation into tampering. Our preliminary checks indicate the Goblet was subjected to a Confundus Charm, but we have yet to identify the caster."

Gasps rippled through the room. Fudge blanched, Bagman sputtered, and Karkaroff frowned. "Confundus? That is serious sabotage indeed."

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly, as though pained. "I suspected something of the sort. The question is: who, and to what end?"

Jennifer's gaze narrowed at the so-called Moody. The false Auror tried to stay calm, though sweat beaded on his forehead. "Any staff member could have done it," he growled in his rasping voice, playing the part of Moody with skill. "Or a clever student."

Fudge looked flustered. "Yes, yes, but we have no proof. And we can't simply cancel the tournament. The other champions are expecting—"

"Your priorities are twisted," Jennifer cut in. "A child's life—my daughter's life—is at stake, yet you worry about the tournament's prestige."

Karkaroff waved a hand dismissively. "The Triwizard Tournament is tradition. If someone tampered with the Goblet, that is an act of sabotage on all three schools."

Madam Maxime nodded. "Oui, but we must find them quickly."

Amelia Bones raised her voice for order. "In any case, Dr. Braun, Miss Potter, we need to know: are you prepared to remain at Hogwarts for the short term while we conduct this investigation? We can petition the Department of International Magical Cooperation for a hearing on the Goblet's contract. If sabotage is proven, we might have a basis to release Miss Potter from the obligation."

Jennifer folded her arms. "Yes, we'll stay for now, with the stipulation that you keep your wands off her unless it's absolutely necessary. And if it becomes clear you can't protect her, we'll attempt to leave."

Fudge coughed. "Er, yes, well, we obviously prefer you remain. Fleeing might cause... complications."

Jennifer shot him a withering look. "Complications for you, perhaps. But for us, it's survival."

Dumbledore drummed his fingers on the table. "In the meantime, the first task is scheduled to take place soon—three weeks from now. If by that point, the sabotage remains unproven, we may have no choice but to proceed. The Goblet's contract, while archaic, is potent. We must confirm whether it truly binds Miss Potter."

Violet listened quietly, mind churning with all she'd read about that first task—dragons. A flicker of adrenaline sparked in her. Part of her wondered if her advanced training and AFR might handle a dragon better than the original Harry Potter had. Another part wanted no part of it.

Barty Crouch Sr. cleared his throat, sounding tired. "Given the severity, I propose we set up a specialized panel, including Madam Bones and Headmaster Dumbledore, to unearth the culprit. Meanwhile, Miss Potter can attend some classes or remain in her quarters for safety. If she chooses to attend, she must be supervised. In the event the sabotage is confirmed, we'll petition for an annulment of her champion status."

Jennifer exchanged a glance with Violet. The teen nodded subtly, and Jennifer looked back at the group. "That's acceptable, temporarily. But no illusions—I have no intention of letting her truly engage in lethal tasks."

Karkaroff grunted disapproval, but Maxime gave a small shrug. Dumbledore nodded, relieved. "Very well. Let us proceed with that plan."

"Good," Amelia Bones said. "This meeting is adjourned. I will keep you updated daily, Dr. Braun, on our progress."

Everyone rose. Fudge quickly left, muttering about international relations. Karkaroff and Maxime departed together, deep in discussion. Bagman trailed behind them, wearing a forced grin. Barty Crouch Sr. rubbed his temples and left, followed by Barty Jr./Moody, who avoided eye contact with everyone.

Soon, only Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Jennifer, and Violet remained in the room. An awkward silence stretched. At last, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Miss Potter... Violet, if I may... I cannot express how truly sorry I am that you were brought here against your will. I promise, whatever differences we have, I will do my utmost to protect you."

Jennifer's voice was cool. "You'll forgive me if I don't simply trust you, Dumbledore. But if you genuinely mean to protect her, then we have a common goal."

Snape's black eyes flicked to Violet, lingering a moment. "You do look uncannily like Lily," he murmured, a note of wistful sadness crossing his features. Then his gaze shuttered. "If you require potions... or any assistance... I'm certain we can arrange it."

Violet, uncertain how to respond, merely nodded. "Thank you."

McGonagall pressed her lips together, as though swallowing a thousand questions about Lily, James, and everything else. She finally said, "We'll leave you be, then. I must see to my classes."

With that, the three staff members departed, leaving Violet and Jennifer alone once more. They exited the conference room and returned to the corridor. Students were milling about, changing classes. A swarm of curious eyes followed them. Some first years gawked openly at the short-haired scientist in the white coat and the teenage girl who was supposedly the legendary Boy-Who-Lived.

Jennifer whispered, "Shall we head back to the quarters? Or do you want to explore?"

Violet considered. She felt a swirl of curiosity. "Mum, maybe we could see the library? I always wondered what magical texts look like."

A faint grin crossed Jennifer's face. "All right. But let's keep a close watch for trouble."

They navigated the castle's winding halls, following the vague directions gleaned from posted signs. Occasionally, suits of armor clanked or moved. Ghosts glided by, offering startled stares. Violet found it surreal, but not intimidating—she had faced terrifying abominations in simulation tests, after all.

They eventually arrived at the Hogwarts Library, a vast room of tall shelves laden with ancient tomes. The smell of old parchment hung in the air. Irma Pince, the librarian, shot them a suspicious glare but allowed them entry.

Violet's gaze drifted over the spines:Intermediate Transfiguration,Magical Drafts and Potions,Charms for Beginners,Hogwarts: A History, and so on. She felt an odd I have studied these if I'd stayed?She moved along, reading titles with increasing fascination.

Her mother busied herself scanning any volume that seemed relevant to "binding magical contracts" or "Goblet of Fire sabotage." Now and then, Jennifer pulled out a small device, presumably scanning pages to store in the Pip-Boy's memory for offline reading.

A soft voice murmured, "Excuse me, hi."

They turned to see Hermione Granger stepping hesitantly from behind a shelf, her bushy hair framing an earnest face. She clasped a few books to her chest. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I wanted to... well, to say I'm sorry you were forced here. And also..." She took a breath. "Is it true... you're from the future? 2194? You mentioned Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I... I'm Muggle-born, so I know about that."

Violet blinked, surprised at the girl's polite approach. Jennifer looked cautious. "Yes," Violet answered slowly. "We are from 2194. But it's notyourtimeline's 2194—my dimension branched off at some point. Our world was mostly destroyed by nuclear war."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "That's awful. I... I can't imagine. And you have these... miniature atomic bombs you can fire?"

Jennifer nodded, grim but matter-of-fact. "Yes. The technology is horrifying, yet it exists."

Hermione shivered. "I see. Well, I suppose that explains your reaction to being forced here. I mean, the wizarding world can be quite arrogant about their magic. They have no idea what science has achieved—or destroyed—in the Muggle realm."

Violet felt a spark of kinship. "Thank you for understanding, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip. "You... know my name?"

Violet gave a small nod. "Yes. I've read about you. You're, um, famously bright, top of your class, right? Well, in the timeline that might have been, you were... a friend to Harry Potter. Maybe you would've been a friend to me."

Hermione's cheeks pinked. "Oh. I see. That's... well, I'd be honored to be your friend, if you'll let me. I just wanted to say you're not alone among the student body. Some of us don't think you're a freak or anything."

Violet smiled, genuine warmth stirring. "I'd like that."

Jennifer rested a hand on Violet's shoulder. "We appreciate it, Miss Granger. You might be the only one here who truly grasps the horror of nuclear war. But we do hope we can solve this fiasco peacefully."

Hermione nodded fervently. "I'll do anything I can to help. I love researching. If you need someone to look up old texts, cross-reference spells, anything, just tell me. I'd be happy to assist."

They exchanged a few more words before Hermione hurried off to class. Violet and Jennifer remained in the library for another hour, scanning countless texts on advanced magical theory, hoping to find references to Goblet sabotage or dimension-hopping spells. The more they read, the more they realized how deeply archaic wizard magical practice could be.

By mid-afternoon, they returned to their quarters, weary from the day's tension. As they passed through the corridor, they spotted a scowling Draco Malfoy whispering to a couple of Slytherins. But he didn't dare approach, not after witnessing Jennifer's formidable demonstration.

In their suite, Violet collapsed onto a sofa, exhaling. Jennifer set aside the data scans with a sigh. "I see no immediate solution. We'll have to keep investigating."

Violet nodded. "At least we have some time. The first task is in three weeks." She paused, fiddling with a loose thread on her shirt. "Mum, what if we never find the saboteur? Or what if the Goblet's contract can't be nullified?"

Jennifer's jaw set. "Then we'll cross that bridge if we come to it. With your knowledge and training, plus my firepower, I'm confident we can handle whatever they throw at us. But I'd much rather avoid it altogether."

A pensive silence settled. Outside, the sky grew dark, the silhouettes of the castle towers standing stark against an indigo backdrop. Flickers of torchlight illuminated the corridors.

Violet stared at the crackling fire in their fireplace, mind turning over the implications. The Triwizard tasks, the meddling saboteur—someone with a cunning plan to resurrect Voldemort, perhaps. She recalled reading about that, how Harry's blood was used in a ritual, how Cedric I prevent those tragedies? Should I try?

Though exhausted, her sense of responsibility stirred. She wasn'tHarry Potter,the Boy-Who-Lived, and yet... maybe she was. In some cosmic sense, the wizarding world still saw her as the child marked by a Dark Lord. She closed her eyes, leaning against Jennifer's shoulder.I won't let anyone manipulate me again,she vowed if I can save a life or two by being here... maybe that's worth it.

Jennifer, as though sensing her thoughts, wrapped an arm around her. "We'll handle it together, Violet. No matter what."

Violet squeezed her mother's hand. "Thank you, Mum."

In that quiet moment, the hush of the ancient castle around them, they found solace in each other's presence. The swirling chaos of competing magic and technology, the threat of a rigged competition, the tension of an entire wizarding society... all of it faded, at least for a few heartbeats. They had each other, mother and daughter, forging a new path in a world where illusions and secrets abounded.

Come what may—dragons, curses, conspiracies—Violet Potter was no longer a terrified, neglected child. She was a genius with the power of science and AFR at her fingertips, and she had a mother who would unleash nuclear wrath to keep her safe.

Thus ended their first twenty-four hours in the wizarding world of 1994, setting the stage for a confrontation no one—least of all Albus Dumbledore—had anticipated. The Triwizard Tournament, once a symbol of unity and tradition, now lay overshadowed by a deeper mystery and the looming threat of unstoppable force. And all the while, in the recesses of Hogwarts, dark plans churned in the mind of Barty Crouch Jr., who realized too late that he had summoned more trouble than he could possibly handle.

AN:

My P-atreon:

www_P-atreon_com/c/HitmenScribblesChatGPT

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