Family Matters

Later in the evening, Hari found himself lying on a bench near the Goblet of Fire, throwing a tennis ball into the air with his left hand. His swotty best friend and her boyfriend were poring over textbooks nearby.

Hermione’s gasp nearly made him miss catching the ball. “People have gotten splinched in this Tournament! More than once!”

Draco grimaced. “Splinched? That’s a nasty condition.”

“What’s splinched?” Hari asked absently.

“Splinching, or the separation of random body parts, primarily happens when learning Apparition,” Jason commented as he strolled up. “Practicing with your non-dominant hand? Nice.”

A few older boys came and placed their names in the Goblet. “Why would someone want to die for glory?” Hari asked, clicking his tongue. “I wish I didn’t have fame.”

Jason nodded as he sat on the floor, working on his letter to Roy. “Agreed. It makes it hard for me to take Roy out on dates.”

Draco raised a silvery eyebrow. “How so?”

Jason sighed. “Because Roy is adopted by the Queen family, and I’m adopted by the Waynes. They are among the most well-known groups of Muggles. Unlike the wizarding world, Muggles don’t accept gays or bisexuals very well.”

“Barbaric,” Draco muttered before placing his nose back in his book.

“This one you can comment on. It’s atrocious, really,” Hermione muttered, having spent a good deal of time dealing with Draco’s ‘de-programming,’ as they called it.

The twins raced over to the small group. “We’ve done it, lads and lady!” Fred announced, with George following. “Just cooked it up this very morning!” They both held up a vial of mysterious potion.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione sang, her nose still buried in the History book she was reading.

“Yeah? And why’s that, Granger?”

 “Because an elder like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dim-witted as an Aging Potion.” Draco rolled his eyes at the Wealesly twin’s antics.

“Go on, then,” Hermione challenged, turning her gaze from the tragedies to the twins.

“Ready, Fred.”

“Ready, George.”

“Bottoms up!” The room waited with bated breath as the twins jumped into the circle. They cheered as they dropped their names into the Goblet.

However, their triumph was short-lived as the Goblet rejected their names, throwing them across the room and adding a little trickery of its own by giving the twins gray hair and beards.

Hari rolled his eyes as they began to wrestle on the ground. “Is it just me, or is today exceedingly boring?”

“You just miss Daisy.”

“You leave my lovely lady out of this. She sits ignored in that barn without me.”

------------------

Sitting down for the feast felt mostly like a normal affair for Hari. The room was tense, everyone trying to figure out who would be the school’s champions. He listened to Dean Thomas, who was speaking to Seamus nearby. “Did you hear? Not a single student from Beauxbatons submitted their name.”

Jason sat down at that moment. “Hey Hari, have you heard from Charlie since that phone call?”

Hari shook his head. “I wrote to Alfred to send the letters off, but they haven’t received a reply. I think she’s just busy. With, you know, what.” Hari rolled his eyes up into his head to flash Jason the whites of his eyes, mimicking how Charlie’s iris faded the last time they saw her.

His older brother grimaced; they were supposed to keep her powers to themselves. “I was doing some research in the library—”

“Really, about what?” Hermione turned her attention from her book to Jason, eyes wide with excitement. “I can help you!”

“Don’t you have enough subjects this year?” Jason smirked at her, knowing she was taking reduced classes because the Ministry confiscated her time-turner. That was a fit they all sat through in the summer.

Her pout was subtle. “I can handle more.”

“It’s a family issue we’re supposed to keep to ourselves. Sorry, love.” Hari patted her hand, knowing she wanted to help. “If we get stuck, we’ll see if we can tell you.”

“Promise?” Hermione asked, understanding that some situations aren’t for her knowledge—a lesson she learned while staying at the Wayne Manor.

“Promise,” Jason bumped her shoulder. “After dinner, Hari, I’ll meet you in the room to talk about our private family situation?”

Hari nodded as he watched both sets of doors open for the Beauxbatons ladies to walk into the hall, chins held high, placing their names into the Goblet of Fire one by one. In a final touch of beauty, the young gymnast from earlier cast a handful of pixie dust into the Goblet, causing it to throw a pink cloud of rose petals into the air.

Hari and Hermione shared a look as the boys around the room clapped, cheered, and whistled. Hari’s small crush on Charlie still hadn’t lessened, while Hermione always felt looked down on by women who attended academies like Beauxbatons.

Dumbledore rose to his feet, clapping as he walked to the Goblet. “Thank you, ladies of Beauxbatons, for that enjoyable bit of theatre. Now, the moment has arrived.” Dumbledore drew his wand and gave a wide motion. Instantly, the torches that lined the Great Hall dimmed until the flame was snuffed out, making the blue fire of the Goblet the only lighting in the room. The room was silent as they waited for the Headmaster to continue.

The professor waited patiently as the flames turned a bright red and jumped in height, a charred piece of paper gently fluttering into Dumbledore’s awaiting hand. “The champion for Durmstrang is ... Victor Krum!”

Durmstrang’s thunderous cheer drowned out the rest of the school’s applause. Victor smirked as he stalked into the chamber.

The crowd fell silent as they waited for the next name to be called. The delicate blue piece of paper was easy for the aging professor to pluck from the air. “The champion for Beauxbatons is … Fleur Delacour.”

Jason covered his ears from all the high-pitched whistling bouncing around the room. He was overloading quickly. Once the room quieted down, he cast a Perma-Frost charm on his robes to relax his anxiety.

“And lastly, the Hogwarts Champion… Cedric Diggory!”

Hogwarts easily beat out the Beauxbaton academy when it came to cheering. “Who’s that?” Hari asked Hermione.

“Seriously? You play against him in Quidditch. He is the Hufflepuff Seeker and their prefect. A solid choice to represent us, I say.”

“Excellent! We now have our three champions. I'm sure I can count upon all of you to give your full support to each and every—” Dumbledore was cut off as the fire turned red once more.

A piece of paper was spat out again, and he grabbed it with a bewildered expression. “Harry Potter?”

Hari froze, looking at Jason. Jason looked at Hari before they both turned to look at Dumbledore.

“HARRY POTTER?”

“HE DOESN’T GO HERE.” Jason yelled. The room’s murmuring went silent. Jason sighed as he cracked his neck before standing up.

“Harry Potter doesn’t exist nor did he put his name into that Goblet.”

“Then vhy did et c’me ‘ut? Vhy es 'is na'me diff'nt?” The French headmistress stood to her full height. 

“I have no idea, but Hari has been going by his birth name since last year. Anyone at this school knows that. Even Professor Snape uses the correct name.” Jason pointed at the teacher who hated Hari the most. “See how I’m pronouncing it? HA-DI, not HAIR-EE. It’s Indian because he is part Indian from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter that moved here a few generations ago. Black-Potter is his last name, after his two fathers. He will not compete in your death tournament.”

“Unfortunately, Mr-” Barty Crouch motioned for Jason’s name.

“Jason Polaris Black-Potter, from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Well met, Minister.” Jason’s cocky grin didn’t leave his face as he performed the traditional bow Draco had taught him.

Somewhere, at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy bit his lip at this impressive display of authority. He could not cry from pride. Malfoys do not cry with pride.

“That would mean, if what you’re saying is true—”

“I’m one of Hari’s elder brothers, and if you try and make him compete, please do take it up with our father, Bruce Wayne.” Whispers began furiously around the hall. ‘I guess that didn’t get around last year like I thought it would,’ Jason thought to himself as Muggle-borns looked starstruck and paled.

Waynes were known for trouble surrounding them.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Wayne is not Hari’s magical guardian. I hold that title, and if the Ministry—” Dumbledore was cut off by Jason.

“Actually, Sirius Black is Hari’s magical guardian. If I remember my paperwork correctly, you never signed any official documentation to claim Hari. Just claiming it might work with other people, but I have an excellent team of wizard and Muggle lawyers for various things. Once Sirius Black was cleared from Azkaban, he resumed magical guardianship legally, with the caveat that Bruce Wayne co-decided things until he was done with his course of treatment at St. Mungo’s and Switzerland’s finest mental institution,” Jason articulated loud and clear for everyone to understand. “Call our guardians. Until then, he will not be participating in any death-defying stunts. And I will be with him at all times for events.”

The adults were aghast at Jason’s brazen display. McGonagall was the first to clear her throat. “I agree with the elder Mr. Black-Potter. We must bring his guardians into this issue.”

“And perhaps we contact the Aurors. Whoever placed the younger Mr. Black-Potter’s name in the fire is likely up to no good,” Professor Snape surprisingly chimed in.

“I’ll contact the departments. My apologies for the delay.” Crouch walked off to one of the side doors to get in contact with the proper relatives.

“Well, until we reach a firm verdict, Hari, Jason, please head to the room with the other champions.” Dumbledore’s hatred-filled eyes weren’t missed by the boys.