I do not own Harry Potter nor World of Darkness

Gare du Nord, Paris, 9th November 1994 (Wednesday)

Jericho Greengrass handed the Portkey, an old black and white picture of the Eiffel Tower, to the French Auror, and pulled out his papers. After a quick scan with a handful of detection spells, he was waved through security and stepped into Wizarding Paris. After taking in the drier air of France, he steeled his resolve and marched toward his destination, his lead clapped tightly in his hand.

He had absolutely no interest in the Triwizard tournament or the new wizarding conclaves that returned to the fold that nowadays were all the Prophet seemed interested in talking about, but yesterday something had caught his eye.

He saw the picture of Beauxbatons' champion, a quarter Veela girl named Fleur Delacour, and he had frozen on the spot. She was a bit taller, perhaps a couple years younger and nowhere near as endowed as those two, but her features were unmistakable. He had spent so many days, so many nightmares staring at them, the resemblance had been uncanny.

And then, everything clicked. Veela's Allure. That was the reason no one could detect love potions or compulsion charms. Sure he had dabbled a bit into Occlumency and with his, admittedly not really impressive, mental defenses he could have probably been able to resist a Veela's Allure, but… two Veelas? While tipsy? No wonder they got him.

After a simple inquiry about the Delacour family, he discovered that a couple years ago two twin sisters roughly of the correct age to be the enigmatics Male-S 1 and Male-S 2, apparently cousins of the champion, had gone missing. He couldn't find pictures of the two, but as soon as he had discovered that piece of information he had booked a ticket for the first available Portkey to France. His visit to the Delacour family wasn't going to be pleasant, but he had to see. He had to know. He steeled his nerves. He wasn't doing it for himself. This was for his family. His only chance to regain their trust and, hopefully, being once again a part of his girl's lives.

Park Royal, London, 17th November 1994 (Thursday)

Skeeter's articles on the Daily Prophet were an interesting read. In Harry's interview, even though he had barely spoken a sentence before Kaa took over, seemed to have put a lot of emphasis on his relationship with Sir Zettler, praising the vampire for stepping up to take care of the boy-who-lived despite not knowing of his status and heritage. The fact that the woman was clearly trying to butter up the vampire had caused Harry no small degree of concern. Had Sir Zettler already assumed control over the Daily Prophet? He already had the minister in his pocket, if he could also control the press… Harry shuddered.

The vampire had been ecstatic about Harry's participation, and had spared no expenses for the Founder's Day celebration. Zettler had organized to have both Edwin and Samuel be present and even showered Harry with presents, which included an ancient Grimoires in latin pilfered from who knows where, a more recent yet still very much ancient Thaumaturgical manual and, much to Harry's shock, a Heckler & Koch G11, which Harry was pretty sure was both the weirdest-looking assault rifle he'd ever seen and very much illegal in the UK, even with a license that Harry, as a fourteen years old boy, most certainly didn't have anyway.

Oh, and if the runes carved onto the gun were any indication, this very illegal gun was also very much magically enchanted. Despite the obvious legal troubles he'd inevitably end up in should he be spotted with the weapon, Harry simply couldn't resist testing it out and emptied a full three magazines with his friends on the gym turned impromptu shooting range.

"That's one weird-ass gun, but it fires like a beauty." said Edwin, admiring the result of the gun against the wooden logs.

"I'd kind of wish I had one. All I get is a stupid Hi-point."

"That's because you're a support specialist, bro. If you get to the point where you have to fire it, you're kinda screwed already."

Samuel flipped off his older brother before turning his attention to Harry.

"So… what is that I hear about a competition?"

Harry frowned "It's… a bit complicated."

"We have time, squirt. Besides, what better place to share stories? Family, friends, hot pizza, cold beer, a shooting range and more bullets than we can count. Feels like things are as simple as when we were kids. Hell, how about a game of 'Kill Wolf' later? For old time's sake?"

Harry smiled. Despite the years apart, the Davis brothers felt like a part of his family. He wished he could tell them more, but… the memory of a cracking whip stopped him. No. Never again. No one would know. He would remember the First Tradition this time. He took a deep breath and raised his gun.

"Ed…throw that can in the air."

Edwin laughed.

"You really think you can hit that?" he asked, arm already pulled back and ready to throw.

Slytherin common room, Hogwarts, 22nd November 1994 (Sunday)

Harry was waiting at the fireplace, in the middle of a deadly quiet room, Theo standing at his side. After what seemed like an eternity, the fireplace started to make some grunting noises, and shortly after a face emerged from the burning coals. Sirius looked different: while the last time his face had been gaunt, sunken and surrounded by long black matted hair, his face was now fuller, his hair short and clean, and he looked almost exactly how he did in the Potters' wedding pictures.

"I'll keep an eye on the dormitories." said Theo, leaving the two alone.

"How are you?" said Sirius seriously.

"I'm…"

For a second, he tried to say 'fine', but he couldn't. He took a deep sigh.

"...I'm managing. - he finally said. - I wasn't expecting to get picked and… I think I went in over my head. I had to put my name down, Zettler all but ordered me to try, but actually being picked…"

"The tournament can be dealt. If Zettler pushed for your participation, he must have some trick to help you out. He's the main sponsor, I bet he knew all of the tasks before the tournament was even announced. You'll make it, pup."

Harry nodded, skeptical and not reassured at all. Yes, Sir Zettler had given him a gun, but what if this was an elaborate ploy to kill him? It sounded a bit extreme, but after that week…

"But that's not why I called. - interrupted Sirius. - There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?"

"Karkaroff. Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes, he… what?"

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror like Moody at Hogwarts this year… to keep an eye on him. The man has no loyalty… he put a load of people into Azkaban to save his hide… He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his."

"Okay… But what are you saying about Karkaroff?"

"I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, and reading between the lines. Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. They knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. Plus… The Death Eaters seem more active than usual. Someone set off the Dark Mark at the Quidditch Cup… and did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?"

"Who?" Harry had certainly not heard anything about this. When did that happen?

"Bertha Jorkins. She disappeared in Albania, and that's where Voldemort was rumored to be last. I knew Bertha: very nosy, but no brains at all. It's not a good combination… She'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

Theo's arrival silenced the two of them.

"It's Malfoy."

Harry frowned. Of all people, it was Draco's lack of control over his bladder that interrupted his conversation with his Godfather.

"Go!" he hissed at Sirius, causing the face to disappear as Malfoy made his way across the common room, making a point to ignore Harry and Theo, towards the bathroom.

Knowing that his conversation with Sirius was over, despite how many information the man hadn't been able to share. With a frown and a heavy heart, the boy headed to his bed.

Great Hall, Hogwarts, 23rd November 1994 (Monday)

Harry arrived at the Slytherin table a bit later than usual and sat beside Sally and Daphne. Curiously both girls looked concerned and neither of them was eating anything.

"Good morning, girls."

"Harry, we have important news to share." said Sally, her eyes focused and her expression hardened.

"Dragons." said Daphne.

Harry blinked.

"What?"

"The first task is dragons."

"How…"

"Professor Moody. He approached us in Hogsmeade, told us to follow Hagrid after dusk. We got to his hut and…" she paused, unsure how to finish.

"...after the most awkward flirting I've ever seen in my life with Madame Maxime, he led her to the dragons. We were too far to hear what they were saying, but with the first task being tomorrow, the sudden appearance of six dragons with a small herd of handlers…"

Harry frowned. That wasn't good. He had no idea how to face a dragon. Maybe if he had a gun… He mentally slapped himself in the head. Was that the reason Sir Zettler gifted him the rifle? To take on the dragon? He took a deep breath. Ok, the gun was a… passable strategy. He didn't think he had enough bullets to actually kill off the dragon, but he should be able to wound it, possibly crippling its wings. Speaking of wings…

"Harry, did you hear what we said?" asked Daphne, knocking him out of his reverie.

"Uh? Oh, sorry… was thinking of a possible plan."

"You have a spell powerful enough for a dragon?" asked Sally skeptically.

"It's not a spell… it's an assault rifle."

The two girls looked at each other, clearly having no idea what this 'assault rifle' was.

"It's a weapon. It's pretty powerful, but I don't think It'll be enough by itself. And besides, I need to figure out a way to get it in the arena."

"Why don't you use a Summoning Charm?"

Harry paused for a second. That… how the hell did he not think of that?

"Daphne, if you weren't Theo's girlfriend I'd be kissing you right now."

Daphne frowned "Try it and I'll castrate you, Potter."

Sally smirked. "So… what's your big plan? You summon your 'salt rifle' and then what?"

"Assault rifle. And well… I hope it'll be enough to take down a dragon, but I don't think it will."

Daphne snorted "Unless you use your salt thingy inside its mouth I seriously doubt it'll do much. There's a reason we used to make armor out of dragonhide."

Harry shrugged.

"Fair. What do you suggest?"

Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts, 24th November 1994 (Tuesday)

Harry had barely slept that night. Theo, Daphne, Sally, Hermione, Ron, Kaa and him had spent the entire day figuring out a plan on how to deal with the dragon with Harry's limited selection of spells. The Summoning Charm had opened the door for a lot of alternative strategies, and the group had gone so far as to prepare a set of cauldron full of Befuddlement Draught, Dizziness Draught, Drowsiness Draught and Erumpent Potion, just so that Harry could, in theory, summon them during his test. Assuming he wasn't eaten first, obviously.

The morning lectures passed off in a blur, his mind too focused on what possible counterattacks the dragon could use against him, and what he could do to prevent them. He barely acknowledged Professor Snape when he called for his presence and guided him to a small tent at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool, looking rather pale. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. Maria was on her knees, hands clasped in a prayer toward a wooden crucifix she must have brought herself. Blair was laying on the ground, legs raised against the wall, and was scribbling down something on a notebook. Harry could almost swear the bard had some white powder on his upper lip, but Bagman approached him before he could say anything.

"Harry! Good! Come in, come in, make yourself at home! - he paused for a second, allowing Harry the time to sit on a simple stool. - Well, now we're all here… time to fill you in! When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag, from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different… er… varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too… ah, yes… your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Harry glanced around, noting the reaction, or lack there off, from his fellow champions. It seemed like he wasn't the only one to have received an early hint.

Not long after, hundreds upon hundreds of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking.

Once the familiar figures of Rita Skeeter and the wizards in charge of the camera entered the tent and gave the ok, Bagman opened the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first." he said, offering it to Fleur.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a green dragon with a tag with the number two around its neck.

After a nod of appreciation, he handed the sack to Maria, who fished out a stout gray dragon, about twice the size of the green one, with the number 1 on its neck. The little dragon hissed, only for the girl to pinch its neck in between her thumb and index, glaring at it with disgust. As soon as the dragon attempted to claw her, the nun twisted her fingers, snapping the dragon's neck with an audible crack. After a second, the miniature dragon transformed into a small rock, vaguely draconic in shape.

"Foul creature." she muttered, the disgust in her tone almost palpable.

"Uh… right… Mr. Krum?" said a baffled Bagman

Krum pulled out a scarlet dragon with the number three, while Cedric pulled a blueish-gray one with the number five.

Blair approached the bag, pulling out a beautiful dragon with pearly scales and glittering multi-coloured eyes carrying the number six.

Lastly, Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out a black-scaled dragon covered with spikes with the number four.

"Well, there you are! - said Bagman. - You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Sister Maria, you're first, so go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?"

"Do we need to keep these demonic beasts alive?" asked the nun.

"I… Uh… I don't… I don't think… I mean… killing a dragon is…" stuttered a flabbergasted Ludo Bagman.

"... a duty for every good christian and God-fearing person in this world. Certain things should just not be allowed to exist."

"Uh, Miss… I understand what you're saying but… I mean… an adult dragon…"

A whistle had blown somewhere.

"Good lord, I've got to run!" said Bagman in alarm, and he hurried off after offering a swift bow to the champion.

"You know… Now I see why back in the days Mages were terrified of the Inquisition." said Blair, looking at Maria with a mix of awe and concern.

Maria huffed.

"We have put those barbaric beliefs behind us. All creations are equal under the light of God, and deserve their fair shot at reaching the pearly gates after living a long, fulfilling life of sharing the grace of the Lord to everyone."

"All creations… except dragons."

"Dragons are satanic beasts that deserve nothing but swift death for daring to defy the sanctity of creation!" almost shouted the nun, her eyes burning with divine retribution.

After a loud whistle, Sister Maria took a deep breath, grasping her rosary and started praying as she walked out in the field.

"By holy flames, the foul creations of Lucifer are cleansed of their sin of existence. In the name of the Father, we are…"

The sound of her prayers were soon covered by the cheering of the crowd and the roaring of the dragon.

"And there she comes! Sister Novitiate Maria Graham, Chorister of Dryburgh Abbey facing an Ukrainian Ironbelly! Sister Isobel, what can you tell us about her?"

"Only that I fear for that dragon, Mr. Bagman."

"Fear for the dragon, sister? You've put a lot of confidence in your apprentice and… she's just standing next to that rock? And the Ironbelly is preparing to fire!"

The sound of flames covered the noises of the public. As the draconic noises dwindled, a voice emerged, overwhelming in its indignation.

"... WE WALK IN THE LIGHT OF GOD AND WE SHALL NOT LET A SINGLE FOE STRAY US! WE MUST NOT FALTER! WE ARE HIS SWORD! WE ARE HIS WRATH!"

The dragon howled in pain, once again covering Sister Maria's prayers. The sound of fire and the loud stomping of a rampaging dragon continued for a few more minutes, the incessant zealot spellcasting of Sister Maria emerging again, stronger than before, whenever the noises dulled down.

Then, finally, the noise stopped and the crowd cheered.

"You know… I think she might have actually killed the damn thing." said Blair, looking pale.

After a few seconds, the whistle blew again, and Fleur stepped out in the arena.

Fleur was trembling from head to foot, in total contrast from the confident savagery of the previous contestant. While Bagman seemed to have left most of the commentary for the previous fight to Sister Maria's own actions, his comments regarding the performance of the French student against the Welsh Green were more than telling of the difficulty of the task. 'Oh I'm not sure that was wise!' 'Oh… nearly!' 'Careful now… good lord, I thought she'd had it then!'

Ten minutes later, Harry heard the crowd erupt into applause once more. Then, for

the third time, the whistle.

"And here comes Mr. Krum!"

Harry heard the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew

its collective breath. "That's some nerve he's showing… and yes, he's got the egg!"

Applause shattered the winter air like breaking glass: Krum had finished and it would be Harry's turn any moment.

Notes

Jericho's quest has begin in earnest!

Harry's got a gun! Don't worry, it's not going to be enough to solo a dragon, that'd be boring. But it IS going to be an important part of Harry's strategy

Sister Maria goes full on DEUS VULT on the dragon. The choristers might have a bit of a reputation for being pacifists, but... when they want to fuck shit up, they are just as capable as any other Mage to be absolutely terrifying. Besides, giving her a few Adepta Sororitas quotes seems both fun and... very appropriate