Chapter 50, everybody! Updates will still be spotty through the next couple of months, but hey, produce. :D

In other news…Mom asked me a good question during the latest Harry Potter marathon on TV so now I pass it to you: what did make Voldemort so powerful? She asked me that, and after my brain did that little loading circle thing all I could come up with besides drawing a comparison to purebreds versus mutts (like yes he has Slytherin blood on his mom's side but his mom's side also looks like Flowers in the Attic) was to say "he found himself a group of like-minded bigots and killed anyone who disagreed with him."

Back to the fic…I'm rereading the fourth book and yet I still blanked on the foreign students arriving the night before the champions were chosen so we're just going to say they arrived early. Also Hermione's house elf liberation policy was more spread out through the book but I'm having some fun muddling the highlights. Some bits of this were written ahead though, so it's nice to finally run into it with the chapters. Harry's quoting Kim Possible there, by the way.

Slytherinsal, thanks for the review! Well, one left at least one scar, but here I'm more meaning emotional scarring. Snips definitely has opinions, as does Kreacher come to think of it….

James Birdsong, thanks for the review! Thanks, hopefully I'll be able to pick up production again in the fall!

Harry Potter © 1997 J.K. Rowling

Everyone still stayed focused on the Goblet of Fire and the Triwizard Tournament as October wore on. Angelina Johnson from Gryffindor entered, which gave everyone wearing red and gold someone to cheer for.

"Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff just entered too," Hermione said. "Did it right before you two came in."

Harry tried to recall what he knew of Cedric Diggory beyond him being the Hufflepuff seeker and apparently having a last name that sounded like a sneeze. "Who else is entering?"

"Cassius Warrington from Slytherin," Dean said. "You know the one on the Quidditch team that looks like a great big sloth?"

"I hope he's better at spells than Quidditch," Harry said.

"Well theoretically the Goblet wouldn't spit out a total incompetent," Dean said. "So there's some hope."

"Theoretically," Ron muttered.

Hermione, meanwhile, was still stuck on her house elf liberation policy, much to everyone's aggravation.

"Hermione, I'm not helping you knit hats so you can trick them into losing their jobs," Harry said firmly.

"Although it'd be the perfect double-blind," Ron observed, holding one up. "I mean you can't even tell they're hats. Which one of you knitted this one?"

"That one's mine," Hermione said.

"Good news, Harry: you're improving."

At the very least, to avoid Hermione possibly coercing the house elves into poisoning the Gryffindor table, Harry agreed to sneak down to the kitchens and talk to them about possible liberation policies. Luna agreed to help on the stipulation that it double as an interview for The Quibbler.

"This is a very nice cloak, Harry," she said on the way there.

"Er, yeah," Harry said, glancing at the faint shimmer of the Invisibility Cloak and trying to recall how many times he had actually used it; adding to his tally was probably worth writing to Sirius and Remus about, even if he still hadn't used it for pranks or other misbehaving (one year out of four, technically, although Dumbledore hadn't punished him for sneaking out to see the Mirror of Erised). "It's great if I ever have to get somewhere without being seen. Used it a lot second year."

"I heard, that was a shame how people acted," Luna said. "Of course it wasn't all their fault."

Luna explaining about pandemites (which infested your hair like lice and ate all sensibilities, according to her) carried them almost to the Hufflepuff common room. Harry slowed, looking at the paintings before stopping in front of one that depicted a bowl of fruit.

"So according to Fred and George, if we tickle the pear it'll let us down into the kitchens," Harry said.

Luna nodded. "That's very clever—not many people would think to do that."

The painting swung inward once the pear wound down, revealing a path down that Harry and Luna followed, Harry bundling up the cloak and tucking it under an arm as they stepped out into a well-lit and downright cozy kitchen that was bustling with elves.

"Is it true that Muggles think that elves make cookies?" Luna asked him.

"Oh—uh, kind of?" Harry noised, trying to think of how to explain company mascots and commercials when he could hardly explain how a TV worked, was saved from this by the nearest house elf taking note of them.

"Mister Harry Potter sir!" the house elf squeaked.

Harry blinked, recognizing this one. "Mipsy! Uh, hi."

"It's good to see you outside the hospital wing, sir," Mipsy said. "How can we help you?"

"We were hoping to conduct an interview," Luna said. "And perhaps ask a few questions."

"Certainly, just let us know how we can be of service."

Luna nodded, looked at Fitzherbert before looking back at the house elves as they increasingly found themselves the center of attention. "Are you feeling at all oppressed?"

"Is this about that student organization thing?" one house elf (that looked busy stirring gravy) asked.

"Kind of," Harry admitted. "See, I think part of the issue is, we don't know enough about wizard/elf relations…Mipsy you were a big help in second year, you think you could talk to Hermione?"

"Yes," Mipsy said. "But please tell her to stop leaving clothes around the common room, it doesn't actually do anything but upset the cleaning crew."

Harry had actually already tried telling her that. "Er, maybe you can explain it to her when you talk to her."

"What does happen to a house elf that doesn't have a house?" Luna asked. "And are you castle elves instead, since you work at Hogwarts?"

A lot of elves looked pensive at the second question. "We're still house elves," one reasoned finally. "Because Hogwarts has four school houses, doesn't it?"

"As for the first, ma'am, just look at poor Winky over there," another elf said, pointing in front of the fireplace. "Been weeks since she was hired and still inconsolable."

Harry remembered Winky as Crouch's house elf, went over to see—found her passed out next to the fireplace, clutching a butterbeer, which another house elf removed before putting a pillow under her head.

Harry blinked, recognizing the second house elf. "Kreacher! Wait what are you doing here?"

"Kreacher has been informed by Master Sirius that Kreacher is on vacation until the house is built," Kreacher told him. "Kreacher occasionally comes here to polish silver and iron clothes."

"Erm, I don't think you're actually supposed to work while you're on vacation…wait, is this why my socks keep getting folded?"

"Master Harry should probably be keeping better track of his socks," Kreacher said. "And Master Sirius said that a vacation should be spent doing something calming and pleasing. Ironing is both for Kreacher."

"That makes sense," Luna said brightly. "Mr. Kreacher, could you please tell us your opinions on house elf liberation?"

Kreacher looked a bit flustered at being addressed as mister, but that didn't stop him from taking a slow, pointed look at Winky, who looked like she had passed out crying.

"Kreacher feels that liberating house elves for the purpose of only freeing them is irresponsible, ma'am," he said finally. "Kreacher does not deny that some house elves are in terrible situations, but we consider our roles noble and important."

"It would be like expelling you from the school, sir and ma'am," Mipsy said. "How would you feel if you were happily sitting in class only for someone to throw you out and say you were never welcome back?"

Harry felt that was a good point and said so.

"It is understandable that young wizards must learn these things for themselves," Kreacher said.

Mipsy nodded. "This happens sometimes. Usually we take the concern in the spirit it's given in and move on."

"But please ask your friend to stop leaving her knitting everywhere," one elf said. "At first we thought she was just being forgetful, but it's all over the place."

"She can't actually get us freed like that anyway," another elf said. "It's the headmaster who would dismiss us if it ever came to that."

"Well that's why we're here," Harry said. "We didn't know."

"And now you do," another elf said, holding up a tray. "Tea?"

Harry and Luna thanked them and complimented them on the tea, causing a few to blush.

"Master Harry and his friends are very polite," Kreacher said, beaming and resulting in Harry being flustered as well.

The rest of the interview went well, and when Harry and Luna got ready to head for their respective dorms it was with them being laden down with plenty of snacks as well.

"Can we help you with anything else?" one elf asked.

"Can you tell us if there's really a secret society of magical familiars hidden in the walls?" Harry asked.

"We can neither confirm nor deny the existence of such a society at this time."

Which, Harry figured, was just the sort of answer that someone trying to hide a secret society would give.

There was also the matter of the Hogwarts All-Stars.

Harry, after the Triwizard Tournament was announced and Quidditch was cancelled, had a plan to occupy their Saturdays that didn't have Hogsmeade trips scheduled, was pleased when the next Saturday was nice and sunny and the Quidditch pitch had an assortment of people with brooms.

"So what's this then?" one of the Ravenclaw chasers asked.

"So, I figured with no Quidditch this year, which is a shame," Harry offered. "That we could do like, pickup games or something. Not for house points or a cup, just to goof around and so we don't forget how to play."

"So if you want to pass and ruin your groove, that's fine," Katie Bell offered.

No one objected to that explanation—matter of fact, that explanation saw the full teams showing up the following Saturday.

That first Saturday, however, was just spent goofing off, putting their names into a hat and groaning depending on who ended up on whose team. Harry and Malfoy had both ended up on the same team on one game, spent most of it sniping at each other and losing the Quaffle.

But yes, part of the benefits of this horsing around was that they could all try new positions if they chose—Harry tried out being Keeper during one round, had taken all of his self-control not to go darting for the snitch when he saw it. Being a beater was fun too, even though he flinched when the bludger came for him—still recalling second year.

"Careful, Harry," Fred said, coming up on his side. "They can smell fear."

There were people in the stands too, cheering them on or chatting, and slowly some of the players drifted over and rested there as the die-hard players kept on with tighter and tighter teams, trying different tricks and goofs to shake things up at first but eventually narrowing down to a serious Quidditch match.

Dean called the end result the Hogwarts All-Stars.

The next Saturday saw all four full teams show up, which led to a four-way quidditch game with conjured hoops, all sets color-coded so they could keep them straight (courtesy of Hermione). Luna, Lee Jordan, and Fitzherbert were keeping score, and surprisingly, Buckbeak was sitting in the stands next to Sirius in dog-form, Snips sitting on the Hippogriff's head.

It was random enough that a lot of people missed a few plays from looking.

Four-way Quidditch was predictably chaos, but fun chaos, and when the die-hards were all that was left it did turn into a two-way game, Dean taking note of who stayed on for his All-Star lineup.

Next time saw them all cooking up random rules to go with the games (one that ended in disaster was riding on the broomstick backwards), but it was still good fun, leaving Harry to think he'd be able to summon a Patronus on these memories.

The rival schools arriving had provided distraction, yes, but after a few weekends they also attracted their own share of fresh players—most notably Viktor Krum, which led to a lot of squabbling about who would get him on their team before the hat was brought out and every team was formed by random draw.

Harry and Malfoy's team agreed to just discount them since they'd be too busy arguing, which they couldn't bring themselves to argue about.

It also led to them agreeing to work together just to startle everyone.

By this time Dean had made banners—for all four teams, for the random rosters, and for the All-Stars—there had been enough players in the latter to qualify for two teams, which were now titled the Grims and the Griffs after 'Snuffles' and Buckbeak.

It didn't take very long after that for uniforms to be made (everyone got two pair to account for randomizing) and for 'unofficially official' matches complete with audience to start taking place. Snuffles and Buckbeak would canter around the pitch first to hype the crowd up, which Harry suspected was Sirius' idea.

It was still Quidditch without the tension and weight of points and cups, though, and as such, Harry quite enjoyed it.

Snips, meanwhile, was enjoying a relatively quiet year. At least, until the other shoe dropped.

It was inevitable, he was sure—these children couldn't stay out of trouble if you paid them. If they weren't merrily hunting it down, trouble was seeking them out with the intent of waylaying them and leaving them crumpled by the wayside. Snips was a hundred-percent certain that he had gray feathers because of them.

So with this Goblet of Fire business and the whole Triwizard Tournament, Snips was entirely certain that Harry would find himself involved somehow.

His name coming out of the Goblet of Fire cemented this belief.

Now Snips knew better—Snips had stayed on him and expressed his disdain for Harry and Ron discussing entering that they knew not to try it, Harry had shown no interest in participating and seemed perfectly happy that the limelight would be on someone else for once, Snips fully believed Harry when he said he didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

Dumbledore, who Snips highly suspected could also read minds, agreed on this point, which made a grand total of two people (and one Potions expert) in the room that thought so.

"Zis eez an outrage!" Madame Maxime stormed. "'Ogwarts getting two champions!"

"I demand a redraw!" Karkaroff insisted. "If Hogwarts gets two champions, then we get two champions as well!"

"You cannot redraw!" Crouch protested. "The Goblet has extinguished itself and will not relight until the next Tournament! The decision is final!"

"EXCUSE ME," Dumbledore said, using the same voice he had when stilling the Great Hall during Harry's first year. "Thank you," he said when attention was back on him. "While I am sure we are all very concerned that an underaged wizard is now seeing his life in mortal peril—" (Harry groaned a little at that) "We seem to be glossing over the main concerns. Firstly, that Harry's name was entered, and secondly, that the Goblet spat it back out. Seeing as how I put the age line around the Goblet myself and it has kept out more cunning students than Harry here, I feel this falls under both a general security concern as well as a tournament integrity concern. Barty, Ludo, Cornelius, if you don't mind me handing the ball to you."

"I do mind," Fudge said. "You can't possibly be pinning this on the Ministry!"

"Our security is flawless!" Crouch protested.

"Obviously not, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation," Moody said. "My guess is someone older confounded the Goblet and entered Potter's name under a different school."

"Question: why?" Harry asked, raising his hand.

"To kill you," Moody said simply. "You're inexperienced and this tournament has killed better wizards than you. It doesn't take much of a stretch of the imagination."

Snips poked Harry's neck and pointed him to the nearest chair, considering his swaying was starting to become concerning and he was starting to look a little green.

"Yes, that is a problem," Dumbledore agreed. "Which therefore requires a solution."

"Mr. Potter's name came out of the Goblet," Crouch said. "The only solution is him participating."

"I was hoping for a different solution."

"I was too," Harry said.

"Unfortunately, it's a binding magical contract," Bagman said. "You can't just back out—it wouldn't end well."

"How bad?" Harry asked.

Dead silence for a beat.

"Bad," Bagman said.

"Very bad," Crouch agreed.

"Would make me look pretty," Moody said.

"It's not necessarily something we'd want to risk if we could help it," Dumbledore told him.

"I—but wait—a contract is between two people, right?" Harry asked. "I didn't put my name in, I don't agree to this—there isn't some…some magical loophole we could use?"

"Getting cold feet?" the Beauxbatons champion asked.

"I. Did not. Enter," Harry said. "I can't say it any plainer."

"Harry, please calm yourself," Dumbledore said, putting a hand to his shoulder before looking at the Ministry officials. "Harry does have a point, however—our magical law goes back far enough that I'm sure some loophole exists that we can conveniently exploit."

"We require a guardian's signature to go to Hogsmeade," McGonagall pointed out. "Would it not stand to reason that, since we required participants to be of age, Harry would therefore need his legal guardian's approval for this?"

Snips could tell that Harry's first thought went straight to the Dursleys, thinking about how they'd happily sign off on him possibly dying, before remembering the fact that he was staying with the dog now. "Sirius would definitely not sign off on this."

"It's worth a try," McGonagall insisted, glaring at Crouch.

One green fire later saw Sirius and Remus joining the room that was starting to get rather crowded, and within a few minutes they were apprised of the situation and looking at Harry.

"I didn't enter," Harry said. "And I didn't ask someone else to enter me either."

"Good," Sirius said, nodding. "I was busy being torn between finally you're misbehaving and why did you pick THIS of all things."

"Back to being responsible adults," Remus scolded Sirius. "We don't give permission for Harry to compete."

"No we don't."

"Thank you," Harry gusted.

"Is that sufficient?" Dumbledore asked the Ministry trio. Bagman and Fudge both looked at Crouch.

"I will have to check through the documentation to be sure," Crouch said finally. "In the meantime, it is most likely better to err on the side of caution. Until we can confirm, Mr. Potter must conduct himself as though he is indeed the fourth contestant."

"Are we absolutely sure breaking a magical binding contract is bad?" Harry asked.

"We're sure," Dumbledore said. "But the first few activities involved generally are not life-threatening. We have a couple of weeks before the first task, we should have a concrete answer by then."

"We should," Sirius said, glaring at Crouch. Seemed to finally notice Karkaroff. "Oh hey Igor, you've looked worse."

Snips tipped his head, interested in figuring out why that made Karkaroff turn that particular purple color, but Crouch chose to inform the contestants of what was expected of them from the first task and Dumbledore dismissed them. The foreign champions and their headmasters left in a huff shortly after.

"Don't worry, Harry, we'll get to the bottom of this," Remus told Harry, putting a hand to his shoulder. "In the meantime, Dumbledore is right, you need your rest."

"Actually, to be fair to both of you," Dumbledore said, nodding to the two Hogwarts champions. "Your respective houses probably have parties awaiting you, and it's probably not wise to keep them waiting too much longer."

"Oh goodness why did we end up with a Gryffindor champion," McGonagall muttered, burying her face in her hands.

"I swear this wasn't my fault," Harry said. "I was looking forward to a quiet year for once."

"I feel like we should talk about your low pranking drive, but that also feels like something we shouldn't discuss in front of various professors," Sirius said. "In the meantime we can get some rooms in Hogsmeade—seeing as how you've got trouble dogging you, we might as well stay close and dog it instead."

"And run your puns by different people," Remus said.

"That too."

This didn't seem like it cheered Harry up very much, considering his gloomy air as he and the other champion left to go to their respective dorms.

"So," said champion noised once they were alone. "How did you do it?"

"The same way I opened the chamber in second year," Harry said, probably sharper than he intended. "I didn't enter."

"Then they're right—you either have the worst luck, or someone wants you dead."

"Yeah," Harry said, heading for Gryffindor tower. "That's a problem."

Snips huffed, debating on whether or not directing him elsewhere was the better option, decided against it—right now, the fact that someone was making overt attempts on his life meant it was probably better for his health to be in his dorm, no matter how horrendously loud it was going to be. Which reminded him.

He had procured a couple of balls of lint to stuff in his ears (he really had to start hunting for these after Kreacher started doing laundry) by the time they had reached the tower, but that did very little to blunt the wave of cheers that very nearly flattened Harry. Harry being dragged into the room and beset upon by all sides by people wanting to congratulate him and very bluntly not listening to him say that he didn't put his name in. It took forever for Harry to get up to his room, and only the desire to not totally abandon Harry in his time of need kept Snips clinging to his neck through this whole thing.

Granted, apparently Ron didn't share this feeling, if his ridiculous behavior was any indication. By the time Snips was able to stop shaking, Harry and Ron had had a whole row that ended with Ron yanking his curtains shut and Harry flapping his hands in irritation before turning his attention to Snips.

"You believe I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire, right?" he asked.

Snips nipped him for being so dunderheaded—did he or did he not stick with him every hour of every day? Snips was fairly certain he would have remembered Harry doing something so monumentally stupid.

Speaking of things monumentally stupid….

Snips flew over to Ron's bed, squirmed between the curtains, and lit into him, nipping every part of his head he could reach.

"Ow! Ow! Hey! Stoppit!" Ron yelped, trying to bat Snips away.

"Hey! Snips! Stop!" Harry yelled, hearing Ron's distress and running to his aid despite the argument.

Snips stopped, sat on Ron's chest, and growled at him, beady eyes narrowed, staring into his eyes and all that fuming jealousy and hurt and trying to impart use your brain, you stupid idiot, or I will never assist you in Potions again.

Ron glared at him, looked as though he would dearly love to hit him, Harry standing there and poised to snatch him off, even though deep in his heart Snips knew Harry would refuse to believe that of his friend….

And then Ron sagged, letting such a gust of air out of his mouth that Snips sank a few inches.

"Bloody idiot," he muttered. "Snips threw a fit when we just talked about sneaking our names in—he wouldn't even be in our dorm if you really did."

"So we're in agreement," Harry said flatly. "I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

"You didn't put your name in the Goblet of Fire. You got Snips to do it. OW!"

'Ow' being the usual reaction to Snips biting down hard on your nose.

"Oright, I give, I give!" Ron yelped, trying to get Snips to let go—Snips finally did.

"Ow," Ron moaned, rubbing his nose and letting go of Snips. "I'm sorry I got so…well, I can't say snippy—ow!"

"Snips, stop," Harry said, scooping him up. "I'd probably be shocked all to bits too, if you or Hermione's name came out of the goblet."

"Hermione's 'bout as likely to do that as Snips is," Ron said, sitting up. "I'm sorry I was acting like such a prat. Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "We're friends, right?"

"Right."

Snips gave a satisfied sigh and wondered how much longer he'd have to deal with teenage idiocy.