Before we get started on the next chapter, I'm going to have to go on a rant. Why? Because a small but vocal minority don't seem to realise that, as the author of these stories, it is I who decides how to do them. If you detest bashing fics, then don't read, and don't bother leaving a review. I write these stories utterly on MY terms, not YOURS, and if you think otherwise, then you can piss off. Don't leave a review, and don't let the door hit your arse on the way out. Reviews are for praise, or constructive criticism, not for voicing your hatred of certain tropes.

Also, if I do new stories at the expense of updating older ones, then so be it. This is what I do. I try to make an effort to do new chapters for older stories, and they're never abandoned until I say so, so put up, shut up, or fuck off! Am I understood?

I only do bashing fics when it fits the story. Ditto WBWL fics. True, I've done a lot of them recently, but only because they suit the stories I wanted to tell. I have plenty of non-bashing fics you can read if you don't want to read bashing fics.

Okay, rant over. Anyway, thank you to my supporters. As much as I'd like to guarantee that I can do this story as a full fic, I can't. I'm going to see if I can write beyond a certain amount of chapters. Once the preamble of Neo ending up in the TWT is over, part of the story will be about Neo establishing a new criminal empire, in memory of her big brother figure and mentor. Neo isn't going to fuck around, either, when it comes to James Potter and Sirius Black. They're going to meet sticky ends sooner rather than later.

That being said, later, I'm going to post revised chapters for Under the Light of the Shattered Moon. Nobody got the full line-up of Team HPIN, so, here are the members, and I promise it'll make better sense in the fic:

Harry

Penny

Ilia

Neopolitan

Ilia, for those unaware (and who hasn't read the original chapters of Under the Light of the Shattered Moon), is a character who appeared from the fourth series onwards, a Chameleon Faunus who was once a comrade of Blake in the White Fang. And yes, there'll be a reason for Neo being part of HPIN. She's a triple agent.

Okay, onto the chapter.

NEOPOLITAN AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

CHAPTER 2:

COLD RECEPTION

Neo strode into the anteroom where she had been directed, escorted by some fatuous fat fuck called Ludo Bagman. Some Ministry official who, judging by the Wimbourne Wasps Quidditch robes and the punch-drunk expression, was some ex-Quidditch star gone to seed. Actually, she remembered the sperm donor and Black talking about him.

Apparently she was being announced as the fifth Champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. And given the name, that was two mages too many. The mutinous expressions on the other four would-be Champions, mixed in with confusion (she had apparently been declared dead on this world), showed that they agreed.

Honestly, she had only used the magic inside her to fuel her Semblance, make the illusions so real, she could substitute them for herself during combat, allowing her to survive what could have been fatal wounds. Not that she needed that fighting against Yang Xiao Long. That blonde bimbo may have been strong and a half-decent fighter, but her fighting style was also predictable as hell.

Bagman hadn't given her name yet, but the haughty blonde girl asked, in a French accent, "And who is she?"

"Why, this is Rose Harriet Potter, of course!"

Neo sighed, and activated an app on her Scroll. It was a basic soundbank coupled with a set of pre-set messages. The message she chose was accompanied by a very distinctive sound. Namely, a klaxon.

AWOOGA! AWOOGA! AWOOGA!(1)

Once she had gotten their attention, she showed the word she had up on her Scroll, pulsing in bright red. WRONG.

Then, she tapped another icon, and it then showed another message. My name is Neopolitan. My friends call me Neo.

"Well then, Neo…" Bagman began, only for Neopolitan to tap another icon, and another pre-programmed text display came up.

You are NOT my friend.

"And do you have any friends, little girl?" the French girl asked haughtily. Oh, Oum, she reminded Neo of that bitch Weiss Schnee. She really, really hoped that some rabid White Fang nutjob had torn that bitch apart. Unlike Roman, Neo had some sympathy for the Faunus, though she thought that the White Fang were little more than rabid animals. Useful, true, but only in that they could be disposable mooks when the time came.

Neo smirked, and tapped another icon. She had literally hundreds of these, for almost any occasion. Not that she usually used it. It was usually only with Roman, or on the few occasions that she was required to communicate in more than gestures. And she showed the French tart the response.

Do you?

"But why do you call yourself Neopolitan?" Bagman asked, puzzled. "The parchment slip said 'Rose Harriet Potter'."

"Maybe it's because she likes Neapolitan ice cream or something? I mean, she looks like it," the handsome boy, the one older than her, mused. Not the broody one with the hunched back, or the one who was her little brother, if only by blood.

Neo smiled at him, as if he was correct. Well, he wasn't wrong. When he first met her on the streets, Roman had asked her what her name was, and at the time, Neo wanted to leave the name of Rose Harriet Potter behind. She wanted to be a new person. So she chose to name herself after her favourite ice cream. It was Roman who had suggested deliberately misspelling 'Neapolitan' to 'Neopolitan', as he liked the thought of nicknaming her 'Neo'. And that felt good, actually. 'Neo' meant 'new', and it felt like she was a new girl.

"You can't be my sister," her little brother said. "She had red hair and green eyes…and she died of an illness." He looked too much like the sperm donor, albeit with blue eyes, and two scars like an equals sign on his forehead, just hidden by his fringe.

Neo sighed, and tapped in a message in a different app. Hey, I'm as surprised as you are, okay? I don't know why people think I'm your sister, but I got snatched from where I was by some freaky blue flames. Not that I'm complaining, mind. I was skydiving without a parachute.

"Skydiving? Without a parachute?" the handsome boy asked. "Are you suicidal or something?"

It wasn't by choice. She checked over her umbrella as she did so. She'd need to see if she could get it in for repairing. Though given how technology had been on this world, as far as she could remember, she'd have a hard time doing that. There was no Dust, technology was decades behind Remnant even amongst the Muggles (though thankfully not that far), and she was amongst the wizards, who were mostly stuck in Victorian times at best. If she recalled, their most recent innovations were using a bus as emergency transport, and a form of radio they called the Wizarding Wireless. Not the sort of wireless she wanted, though: she missed Wi-Fi already.

"Is it broken?" the handsome boy asked. On her nod, he said, pulling out his wand, "May I?"

Reluctantly, she nodded, and held out the umbrella. "Reparo," he said, waving his wand. And the damned thing was now as good as new. She nodded in thanks, though she wasn't used to people doing things just out of altruism.

It was at that point that the old fart Dumbledore (what was it about him that reminded her of Ozpin? Aside from the whole eccentric headmaster thing?), along with some others, came in. Thankfully, the sperm donor wasn't there: otherwise, she'd be tempted to gut him then and there. Oh well, she could do that tomorrow. Or at least when she could. She could feign amnesia. That was why she denied being Rose Harriet Potter. That could protect her…though her glare at the sperm donor may have given it away.

"What is the meaning of this?!" one of the people who came in, a tall and intense man dressed in furs demanded. He had a somewhat Slavic accent.

"Yes, I would like to know as well," another, a tall woman, speaking with a French accent, said.

"I was under the impression, Dumbledore, that the Age Line you put in would have kept out younger contestants. Otherwise, we would have brought a wider range of contestants," the first man said. "Now you have two Potters participating."

Neo, making a point, activated the app again, and the klaxon wailed once more, with the word WRONG showing up on it, before she activated the next message. My name is Neopolitan. Then, as an afterthought, she pressed, Get it right.

The man sneered. "And aren't Muggle items not allowed in Hogwarts?"

"Calm yourself, Igor," Dumbledore said. "Miss Neopolitan here, as she seems to prefer to be called, cannot speak, so she uses the device to communicate. Though I must confess myself astonished that an electronic device is actually working at Hogwarts."

Neo blinked, before she typed in a message. No electronics working here? BOOORRRRING!

The message actually got some strained laughter from Dumbledore, as well as a man who looked like something a Grimm chewed up and shat out, with a weird blue eye that looked artificial. Cedric even laughed a little. The others looked far from amused. Neo then tapped out another message. Look, the only part of this situation I like is that I am far away from where I was. I don't even know where I am. Which was a barefaced lie.

"How could you not?!" Bagman protested.

"Because she's an amnesic Squib, Bagman, keep up," remarked a snide voice, belonging to a greasy-haired man with a big nose.

Neo typed into her Scroll, I'm not a squid, I'm ice cream!

"And deranged too," the greasy-haired man said. Oh, now she recognised him. Snivellous Snape, the man her father blamed for Voldemort attacking them…along with that rat Pettigrew.

It went downhill from there. Some dried-up old turd in a suit calling himself Crouch claimed that Neo and the so-called Boy Who Lived was stuck in some sort of magical contract to participate in this Tri-Wizard Tournament thing, despite the protests of most involved. Then, the scarred bastard (who reminded her too much of a cop for her liking) said something ominous about the Potters being entered to get them killed.

Neo just sat on the sidelines, watching the argument, standing near the handsome boy, who introduced himself as Cedric. So, can we get popcorn? Neo asked. Or ice cream?

"You seem to be taking this well," Cedric observed.

Neo shrugged. I don't know who dragged me here…yet. But when I do… She left that last bit in the air. She was tempted to deploy the blade in her umbrella to make a point, but that might tip her hand just a bit too early.

The adults seemed to finally reach a consensus, and Crouch stepped forward, telling them that the First Task was a test of their daring and bravery in the face of the unknown. So they would only be facing it with their wands.

Neo held up a hand, before typing out a message. I don't have a wand. All I have is my umbrella…and it isn't magic.

"We'd best remedy that, then," Dumbledore said solemnly.

Oh, all I need is my umbrella.

"It's not a wand, therefore, you won't be able to use it," Crouch said officiously, only for Neo to scowl.

I believe the term is 'from my cold dead hands', she typed into her Scroll.

"Calm down," Dumbledore said. "Miss Neopolitan…come with me, if you would, please? Minerva, I will leave you to deal with your student. Severus?"

As much as she distrusted the old man, Neo also knew that Dumbledore didn't have anything to do with the abuse she suffered from the sperm donor. She was only playing along for now so that she could orient herself, now that she was…well, not home, but back in the world of her birth…

Once she was brought to Dumbledore's office, Neo looked around briefly. She had to admit, she was enamoured with some of the bric-a-brac. In fact, she was already wondering if she could pinch any of it. She was, after all, all but raised by one of the best thieves in Remnant. "Miss Neopolitan…" Dumbledore began. "It seems that you may be in fact Miss Rose Potter, the older sister of Charles, the boy you met earlier. You don't remember that name?"

Neo just shook her head. The old man came around to her, and gently reached a hand over to her forehead. She let him, reluctantly, brush aside her fringe, revealing a faded scar, one she usually hid. One shaped like a lightning bolt. "I know that you are because of that scar. Which makes me wonder, why did James lie to me?"

"Because Potter is a habitual liar," Snape sneered. "No doubt he wanted her discreetly disposed of. After all, a mute is as bad as a Squib. Still, amnesia…must've clubbed her over the head and left her somewhere."

"Severus…" Dumbledore chided, only for Snape to sneer.

"Don't start! If Potter and Black were willing to lure me to my death at the hands of the werewolf, then they'd be willing to kill an embarrassment of a child!"

"I don't think you are in any position to judge them, Severus," Dumbledore said icily. "Or are you saying that nobody is worth a second chance? Even you?"

Snape scowled in fury. "How dare you?!"

Neo snapped her fingers to get their attention, before she typed into her Scroll. Look, I don't remember that man. Well, I've seen him in nightmares. I don't remember my life before I was six. My guardian, Roman Torchwick…he found me with a head injury. He raised me. We were in a business of sorts. Unfortunately, we got the attention of the wrong kind of people. I was thrown out of an airplane, and Roman was murdered. It was mostly truth, save for the bits about her not remembering, or the head injury.

"I see," Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Neopolitan."

Thank you, she said insincerely. It was easy to get away with insincerity when you typed out your responses. She very nearly asked about Remus Lupin, but decided not to, in case that blew a hole in her story about being amnesic. Remus was the only one of the Marauders she trusted…assuming he hadn't died or been corrupted by the sperm donor or Black in the meantime.

"You seem remarkably unfazed about being entered into a dangerous tournament, especially with no magical training or wand," Dumbledore said.

A sardonic smirk touched her lips. I can fight pretty well.

"Nonetheless, the rules are clear. Tomorrow, I or someone else will be escorting you to Diagon Alley to get you a wand," Dumbledore said. "Unfortunately, the rules state that neither I nor my staff can give you training…but I do know some people who can help you. If you truly lack memory of your childhood, then I should tell you that there is a man who was like an uncle to you, Remus Lupin. He is an expert on Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Yes! Neo thought to herself, fighting down the impulse to smile or pump a fist. She was curious as to why Dumbledore didn't mention the sperm donor or Black. Maybe it was because the sperm donor was probably a teacher here: he was at the Head Table after all, though he may have been an official for this Tournament. And maybe Dumbledore knew that whatever cock and bull story the sperm donor was false now that Neo had turned up alive.

Which meant that Neo was in danger. Oh, not yet. James Potter wouldn't dare try something in the centre of Dumbledore's power. Nothing lethal, anyway, not unless he was guaranteed to succeed.

But Neo had grown up in a world with Grimm. She had hung around terrorists who wanted to slit her throat just for being human. And that was without going into the likes of Cinder, Mercury, and Emerald, along with their boss, Salem.

Neo was a survivor. And perhaps in this world, she could not only survive, but thrive…

CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Neo has gotten a rundown of what's happening. But what next?

Now, in case you're wondering why Neo isn't mourning Torchwick, she will soon. She's just been swept up in everything else. And James Potter won't be taking action yet. While he is something of an idiot in some regards, he's not wholly stupid. Instead, he's going to claim that Rose was kidnapped, and he used the 'death by illness' story when he believed she had died. He's going to claim that whatever Neo says is the result of Obliviation charms. Neo will play along…but both of them are going to be plotting each other's deaths.

1. If you want the sound I have in mind, think of the penalty klaxon from QI.