Champions
Barty couldn’t help but grin as his eyes raked carefully over the empty hall. He knew his disguise would not falter, but he did wish to keep a low profile.
Shoving his hand inside his robe, his fingers met parchment. Giggling softly, he pulled his prize from his inner pocket and sauntered up to the goblet. If his master wanted the best, he would get him the best.
The flames rose in acceptance, burning just a bit brighter as the ancient wooden cup devoured its sacrifice.
Brushing his hands through his hair, Barty straightened his robe and casually strolled out of the hall. Dinner would begin soon, and everyone would witness the ripe fruit of his labor.
A small insect flew in through the small open window in the transfiguration room, hugging the walls as it slowly made its way to the north wall. Nearing the last table, the beetle found refuge in a familiar bag lying on the table.
Rita settled herself into the fibers of a scarf, exhausted. She knew the green knitted fabric was there for her benefit; it would be tragically dull to be squashed by a child’s homework before her real mission even began.
She had been all over the castle today after spending all night in the hall with the goblet. During the time she was in the hall, Rita watched every individual or group of individuals who approached the goblet. Nothing seemed amiss.
As the students would be attending classes during the day, she took a break from her vigil to spy on the staff room and various hideaways she knew were havens for gossip. She found nothing that smelled of a plot against the Blacks.
They were a paranoid lot; she knew this—everyone knew this. But, they were usually justified in their paranoia, and they paid very well.
It was roughly half an hour until dinner, and she didn’t want to miss the big reveal. The bag jostled as it was picked up from the table.
A moment later, the flap opened, and a silver eye peaked in, “Wait until we make it to the hall. Pinch my hand when you’re ready, and I will disillusion you so you can sit on my shoulder.”
With that, the eye and voice were gone.
She peered out of the bag when she felt the boy settle into his seat. They were seated at the Slytherin table, and others were quickly making their way into the hall. She withdrew from the plush fabric and exited her mode of transportation, climbing up the boy’s pant leg.
After pinching the skin of his left hand and causing him to wince, she felt the fluid-like feel of the disillusionment charm wash over her. Rita quickly scampered up his sleeve and hooked the barbs on her back feet into the wool of his robe so she wouldn’t be jostled from her position.
She watched, detached, as the students consumed their dinner and flitted around the hall. It was odd to see so many different ties at all the tables—Hogwarts had never been this friendly in her days.
When the last of the desert platters disappeared, she shivered with excitement. Finally.
Without a second thought, she raised her leg to her temple. Mirror, mirror on the wall show me Sirius Black. She knew the mirror had activated by the quiet ‘Muffliato’ she heard right at her right temple. She was ready.
“Please, everyone, take your seats.”
Albus Dumbledore stood at the head table, his twinkling eyes spanning the room as the Goblet of Fire sat innocently before him on a pedestal.
“I believe the goblet only has a few more moments of deliberating before we will know our champions. After our champions have been named, they are to pass through the door behind me, where they will be debriefed on the first task.”
He sat back down and calmly watched the blue flames of the goblet before him.
After a few minutes, the goblet turned a vibrant red, and he quickly stood. A piece of parchment flew from the flames and was summoned to him, “The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!”
Rita watched as the tables erupted into applause, and the boy who had been plastered over the front page a month ago walked from the room.
The applause and murmurs died as the goblet once again flamed red.
“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”
A rather stunning girl stood from the Hufflepuff table and glided from the hall. Rita found herself mesmerized by the girl and only fell out of her haze when the silvery head disappeared around the distant door frame.
Rita could feel the tension in the air as the students waited to hear the announcement of their own champion. It seemed even the castle was holding its breath.
Finally, the goblet shifted from blue to red, spitting out the last name.
“The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!”
The roar that met her ears was deafening. All of Hogwarts cheered on the handsome Hufflepuff. The applause continued far beyond when the boy disappeared from the room.
But Rita’s gaze was back on the goblet. It was flaming red once more.
The hall fell silent when the parchment violently erupted from the goblet, reaching a height much higher than the others. She was unsure if this was due to the goblet’s anger at having a fourth champion or due to Dumbledore not immediately summoning the parchment.
In the next moment, he had summoned the slip and stared at it blankly.
Albus Dumbledore’s gaze turned towards her, “Sirius Hadrian Black IV.”
The hall fell silent, and it felt like all the air had had been sucked away. She felt the shoulders beneath her stiffen as all eyes fell in her direction.
“Heir Black, if you will.”
Rita eyed the Headmaster and almost missed the Hufflepuff, who stood swiftly, “You lie!”
The Headmaster sputtered, "I assure you, this slip of paper says Sirius Hadrian Black IV."
A Ravenclaw then stood, his eyes narrowed, "Hogwarts has its champion! What school is claiming Hadrian?"
Albus eyed the boy briefly, chewing on his cheek before answering, "It says House of Black."
There was a pregnant pause before eyes once again fell in her direction. She felt her ride slowly rise from his seat and turned toward him before remembering she was supposed to be watching the crowd.
Hadrian Black spoke clearly across the hall, "Students of Hogwarts, you know me.”
Rita glanced around the room and saw the worried and expectant gaze of Hadrian’s fellow classmates begging for an explanation. They were transfixed and eager to hear his words. It struck her a moment later that it was reverence that graced each face turned in Hadrian’s direction. She didn’t know why these students looked up to him, but it was clear they did. The Headmaster’s brows furrowed; he was among the very few who did so, most being at the high table.
Hadrian continued, “You know I do not desire the fame or the wealth associated with winning this tournament." Many were now nodding, "However, I need to appease our visitors."
She felt his body shift toward the high table where the ministry officials and visiting headmasters sat, "I, Sirius Hadrian Black IV, swear on my magic that I did not enter this competition, nor did I ask another to enter my name. So mote it be." He raised his wand, and fireworks shot from the end of it, arching into the vaulted ceiling.
The ministry officials were silent as Hadrian walked toward the antechamber with Rita on his shoulder. The students, however, were whispering amongst themselves, most likely trying to discern how this feat could have happened.
It seems the Blacks were warranted in their paranoia.
Upon entering the chamber, her ride stopped three feet into the room, "I, Sirius Hadrian Black IV, swear on my magic that I did not enter this competition, nor did I ask another to enter me into this competition. So mote it be." He lifted his wand, and a bright lumos filled the room.
The Hufflepuff, Mr. Diggory, winced, "Oh, Hadrian, I'm sorry."
"You are competing?"
Rita turned to the heavy French accent and met the mesmerizing blue eyes of Fleur Delacour. Her hold was broken when Hadrian nodded, and the French girl enveloped him in a hug, "Oh, Hades!"
The reunion was broken by Viktor Krum, "You know each other." The Bulgarian frowned at the three, his dark eyes darting between the other three champions.
Miss Delacour laughed lightly, "I know Hadrian because my uncle married his aunt. We share a cousin."
She heard the smirk as her ride calmly remarked, "I wonder who he'll root for."
The veela, for she had to be a veela, gasped, "I am his favorite cousin!"
Hadrian scoffed, "You know that isn't true. Gabby is everyone's favorite."
The blonde sighed wistfully, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling, "True."
The door opened quietly, and two children glided into the chamber.
Rita knew these children. They were part of her latest debriefing. Susan Bones was in a pending betrothal agreement with Hadrian’s adopted brother, Neville Longbottom, and the petite blonde was none other than the little seer, Luna Lovegood. Miss Lovegood once came across Rita in the field and seemed to instantly know she was no ordinary beetle. The blonde had carried her through the crowded alley and placed her in the curtains of the exact shop she had been attempting to infiltrate. They had shared some interesting letters after the fact.
The Diggory boy laughed, "Oh, this will be entertaining."
Krum's brows furrowed even more, "There are more champions?"
Miss Lovegood shook her head, "No, we are here to minimize the backlash. Hadrian, the rule book is just there."
Hadrian nodded and quickly turned, jostling Rita, “Thank you, little moon."
The remaining champions began to introduce themselves while Hadrian and, in turn, Rita devoured the pages of the horribly thin booklet. The Hogwarts and Beauxbatons champions only broke from their introductions to see what the Black heir had found.
They both rounded the table, and the French girl draped her arm across Hadrian's shoulder, just missing Rita’s back leg, "what have you found, little demon."
Rita had no choice but to fly off her ride and settled lightly on Mr. Diggory’s shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice.
Hadrian frowned, "Why must you call me that? You know the twins are the true demons of the family."
Miss Delacour’s laugh was like tinkling bells, and Rita wished to join her.
Just then, the doors banged open, just missing Miss Bone's shoulder, the headmasters and ministry officials barreling into the room. The hall beyond was silent, so Rita could only assume the students had been quieted and dismissed from the hall.
Madame Maxine stopped short at seeing her champion with her arm wrapped around Hadrian's shoulder. The blonde girl smiled at her headmistress, and the woman visibly relaxed.
Headmaster Karkoroff found his student, sliding his hand up the boy’s arm to grasp his shoulder while Dumbledore moved to stand directly in front of the other three. His eyes narrowed at the French competitor before his gaze fell on Hadrian.
His eyes were narrowed, and the man's magic was bleeding out around him, causing the room to feel heavy, "Hadrian." His voice was stern, and the tone accusing, "Did you put your name in the goblet of fire?"
The Black heir wiped his face from the spittle of the old man, "I gave my oath. You already have your answer."
Rita grinned a tiny beetle smile; she hoped the Black Lord was witnessing every bit of this.
Hadrian felt the sudden attack on his mental barriers and quickly found himself within his mind. If the Headmaster wanted to pry into the mind of a Black, again, Hadrian would give him the full experience.
He let the old man shimmy through a gap in his defenses and quickly closed it. Hadrian threw the intrusive force to the ground and forced it to manifest in a mental version of the old man in the process. The Headmaster lay on the ground in the garb of an Azkaban prisoner, his preferred periwinkle robes left behind in the real world. His beard and hair were matted and blackened from filth, his spectacles missing altogether.
Hadrian’s manifested form stood above the disheveled form of his Headmaster, Azkaban, looming behind him. When the man began to stir, Hadrian turned and strolled across the footbridge that carried him to the inner island. Azakaban itself did not have a receiving island, but his mental palace did.
As Hadrian stepped foot on solid ground, he was met by his protectors, who each roamed a cardinal position of his mind palace: the grim, a raven, a dementor, and a wolf. Each of these protectors were based on the men he called his uncles.
The grim and wolf both lovingly leaned into his touch while eying the intruder warily. His dementor protector floated eerily behind them as the raven perched on its shoulder, observing the entire scene.
When Dumbledore fully sat up, he paled at his surroundings, "Where are we?"
Hadrian laughed contemptuously, a sardonic smile spread across his face, "We are inside my mind, Headmaster. You tried, once again, to gain access, and this time, I dragged you in.” He threw his hands out and twirled once, chuckling as he spun, “Welcome, sir, to the mind of a Black."
Hadrian slowly crossed the bridge toward the gaping man, his companions following. "By bringing you here, I am showing you the capabilities of the Blacks. Mind magics are our specialty. You have no leg to stand on against one of us." He crouched beside the man, a snarling canine taking up residence on either side of him, "Let this be a lesson to you."
The canines lunged, causing the old man to fall backward, toppling out of Hadrian's mind. Only a second had passed in the outside world, and Dumbledore was blinking hard, his breathing ragged.
"That's not very considerate, Headmaster."
Dumbledore broke from his stupor to turn to the young woman who had spoken, "Miss Lovegood, Miss Bones, what are you doing here?"
Susan crossed her arms over her chest, "We wish to understand what is happening in our school. It is our right, after all."
Dumbledore shook his head, a crease forming between his eyes, "No, it is not. I need to ask you to leave."
Cedric chuckled as he glanced at Hadrian, "He doesn't know who they are, does he?"
Hadrian grinned a feral grin that would have Remus proud, "No. He doesn't."
Turning to his two friends, he held out a hand for each. They gracefully crossed the room, Luna taking his hand first. He bowed and kissed her knuckles, causing her to giggle, "Lady Ravenclaw." He then took Susan's and kissed her knuckles, "Lady Hufflepuff."
Both girls grinned and curtsied in return.
Luna smiled, "Lord Slytherin."
Susan smirked, "Lord Gryffindor."
Hadrian winked at the girls before turning to face the assembled individuals.
Cedric, who now stood with Fleur and her headmistress, grinned widely. The Durmstrang contingent stood behind the others, watching silently but intently. Dumbledore stood with the ministry officials, all varying in looks of shock and horror.
Dumbledore slowly shook his head, "It cannot be."
Hadrian nodded serenely, "Oh, it's the truth. You already knew I was an heir of Slytherin."
The old man shook his head, "No. Harry Potter was the Gryffindor heir. He's dead. The Gryffindor line has ended."
Hadrian narrowed his eyes, "Yes, my cousin is dead. However, as Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were brothers…” His eyes swept across the ministry officials when one gasped, “They wished for their lines to continue through the other if one died out first. Between Salazar's descendants killing each other off and Godric's children each only able to bear one heir, it was only a matter of time before the merging of their lines would happen."
Hadrian turned and locked eyes with his Headmaster, "The founder's heirs were not as lost as you hoped, Headmaster. We are here, and we have claimed our titles. The goblins have verified our claims." He held up his hand, flashing the Slytherin and Gryffindor rings. Luna and Susan followed his gesture.
Silas Flint was the first to react, a slight lift to the corner of his mouth, "Are you reclaiming Hogwarts? Many things have changed since the original wizarding council. Hogwarts is now subject to ministry and IWC regulations."
Before Hadrian could respond, he felt the incoming storm and couldn’t help how his face reacted.
Albus sighed when he heard the slamming of the doors separating the antechamber from the great hall. He had no patience for the insolent youth before him and even less for whatever the doors had just let in.
He calmed his features as he slowly turned toward the door, not missing the smirk that graced the young Black’s face. Oh, how he despised arrogant youths. He had seen that same smirk grace the visage of a young Mr. Riddle in days gone past, and it irked him that he couldn’t get a leg up on the young Black.
The newest issue, however, was not the similarities between the Black heir and Tom. No. The issue at hand was the cold glare of the individual radiating a dark misting aura.
Albus lacked the ability to view the magics within an individual; however, his wand did often give him a small glimpse at another’s core. The aura around the man was not what his wand usually allowed him to see, which meant that Sirius Black’s magic was so charged that he was physically manifesting. His aura fell as a heavy fog down his shoulders until it pooled around his feet, creeping away and filling the room. It reminded Albus of the thick white fog created by muggles for parties. Only, he had never seen black fog before.
His thoughts raced back to the year prior when the young Mr. Shacklebolt reported back from Azkaban, ‘The house of Black, descendants of the grim.’
Albus believed those words now.
He couldn’t understand how Sirius Black had hidden so much from him. He had been a doting mentor to the boy when he resided with the Potters and he never portrayed the abilities he seems to have currently. Even having the man employed under him for a few short months didn’t raise any alarms. No, Sirius Black seemed to hold his cards close to his chest, only allowing Albus to see what he wished. He didn’t know how many more surprises he could handle before the Lord needed to be dealt with.
Albus didn’t know how long he was lost in his thoughts before he heard the door open again. The next wizard to walk into the room was one he had never seen before.
The wizard glanced around the room before stopping beside the Black Lord, “Lord Black, your assistant sent for me.”
Sirius Black only nodded as he was still actively glaring at Albus.
“Ah! Martin, nice to see you again!”
Albus’s head swiveled to watch Silas Flint, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, beam at the newcomer.
Silas had only risen to the position after the prior head had been sent to prison for aiding his son escape Azkaban. Albus had, of course, voiced his concerns about allowing a head position to someone with previous connections with the Dark Lord. Of all people, Amelia Bones had vouched for the man and even had the man bare his mark-free arm to appease the hiring committee. How the man had removed his mark, Albus didn’t know, but he was sure to keep a close eye on him.
The wizard, now identified as Martin, smiled at Mr. Flint, “Oui, I'm glad to see you too, Silas.” He gestured to Sirius, “My brother-in-law’s assistant stated there was an issue and asked if I could come assist as I was a part of the initial planning of the event.”
Albus peered curiously at Martin. He wore robes of deep sapphire, with the French ministries insignia on the breast. The deep blue of his robes contrasted greatly with the icy blue eyes that swept across the room. While Albus had helped set the reinstating of the tournament in motion, he hardly ever sat in the actual planning meetings. Instead, he sent in word to Crouch, who would, in turn, communicate with the other schools. He was only lucky that the planning had mostly ended by the time Silas came to head the office.
Silas nodded eagerly and gestured to the case that held the now flameless Goblet of Fire, “The Goblet somehow released four names. I don’t know how this could have happened.”
Martin strode over to the case and stood beside Mr. Flint, eying the cup with great scrutiny, “Someone spelled a limiter on the cup, yes?”
“That would be my work, Mr…?”
The French wizard peered over his shoulder and momentarily observed Albus, “Fournier.”
Albus nodded as he rolled the name around, “The Goblet was spelled only to allow those of fifth year or above entrance into the tournament.”
“Was it age specified?”
Albus shook his head, “Originally, we were only to allow those of age to compete, but last-minute negotiations brought the age down to those sitting their Owls and above. I tied the registry book for the school to the cup, as Headmaster Karkaroff and Headmistress Maxime had already sorted their students and only brought those who could compete.”
Mr. Fournier nodded slowly and returned to observing the goblet. Albus took this moment to digest what he had learned in the past few minutes. Mr. Martin Fournier was somehow related to Lord Black. He had stated he was his brother-in-law, but to Albus’s knowledge, young Regulus had not married prior to his death, and he had always thought the young Black to be interested in the fairer sex. Perhaps the term was used loosely, and their relationship was not quite as close as they made it sound.
He paused. Fournier. Dudley Fournier. This meant that the newest transfer from Beauxbatons was related to the Black family. No. This indicated that Petunia was somehow associated with the Black family.
‘You would have learned that I was adopted. There never was much resemblance between Lily and me. Her red hair and vibrant green eyes, my black hair and grey eyes; No, I fear I only become a true sister to her after we completed that little blood oath ritual when we were seven.’
Petunia had been adopted, and Albus now had the answer to which family she hailed from. Did Sirius know that his lost relative was the cause of his godson’s death?
Albus was pulled from his realizations as the goblet emitted an enormous belch and began to regurgitate slips of parchment onto the floor. Each piece floated into one of four piles.
Silas bent down to observe the piles, “Interesting.” He pointed his wand to the largest pile and circled it, “These are the Hogwarts entries.” A purple ring of fire formed around the pile. “These are Beauxbatons, and these are Durmstrang.” A blue and crimson ring of flames appeared around each, respectively.
“What is the other pile?” Madam Maxime asked in her overly-accented attempt at English.
Silas picked up a slip of parchment from the remaining pile, “Neville Longbottom, House of Black.”
Martin leaned over and picked up the remaining slips from the pile, “Draco Malfoy, Hermione Shafiq, Fabian Lupin, Gideon Lupin…. “ His fist clenched as he reached the last piece of parchment, and his voice lowered, “Dudley Fournier, House of Black.” He threw the slips onto the floor and glared at the goblet.
Silas grimaced, “Oh.” He dropped Neville’s slip to the floor on top of the others and waved his wand, creating a circle of black flames, “School — House of Black.”
“Is this legal? Is it binding?”
Albus was startled as he hadn’t realized Sirius had moved closer. The Black Lord was now directly next to him, as were the other school heads and their champions. Hadrian stood beside his father, his face void of emotion—another Tom characteristic.
Martin sighed, “Any individual whose name comes out of the Goblet of Fire must compete. It is how it was originally crafted.”
Albus watched Sirius process the information, his hand tightly gripping his son’s shoulder. The black fog had subsided and no longer clung to the man, but Albus could still feel the prickly tang of the man’s magic on the air.
“Participating schools are to stay on the grounds, correct?” Sirius asked in the direction of the two wizards next to the goblet.
Silas nodded, “Yes. They are to stay on the grounds of the host school with their visiting Headmaster or Headmistress.”
The Black Lord smiled sweetly, and his words dripped with false sincerity, “As the Head of the House of Black, I assume it is warranted that I am to hold the Headmaster position, yes?”
Silas slowly grinned, “That would seem a viable assumption. Should I mark you down as the visiting chaperone?”
Albus frowned, but before he could form a way to kindly state his opinion, Sirius had already responded.
Sirius nodded, “Yes. Sirius Black, Headmaster of the House…. No, the School House of Black… magic. Does that sound official enough for you, sir?”
The department head took a book from his robes and flicked it open. He withdrew a black quill that looked like it was taken from a raven, “Sirius Black, Headmaster of the School House of Black Magic — official judge.” He snapped the book shut and shoved it into his robes, “It’s official, Lord Black. Are you going to reside in the castle or on the grounds?”
Albus sputtered, “Excuse me?”
All eyes fell on him, and he realized his reaction had not been internal.
Sirius eyed him, “Yes, all visiting schools are to reside on the premises.”
Albus glanced around to see if anyone would be on his side. The room consisted of only the champions, their school Heads, heirs of the founders, and the ministry workers; none would argue in his favor.
He turned to the smiling Black Lord, “The other schools have their own lodgings. You do not, and you are not a student of mine; therefore, you cannot stay in the castle.”
Sirius Black grinned wolfishly, “It’s a good thing I have my own lodgings then, isn’t it?” He eyed the ministry workers, “Am I able to gather my students and retire?”
“Students? You have claim only to Hadrian.”
Silas raised a finger to interrupt the two, “Actually, all names that were marked House of Black now fall under his tutelage.”
“But what of their schooling?” Albus was flabbergasted. “How will they be taught?”
Sirius chuckled, “I know many of the visiting students self-study, but seeing as most of my students are younger, I’ll have to bring in some tutors. It is still customary for the visiting schools to attend the core classes, correct?”
Silas nodded calmly, “Transfiguration, Potions, Defense, and Charms. All other classes are to be taught within the lodgings of the visiting schools. I assume you can find tutors for your other subjects?”
Albus paled at the Black Lord’s nonchalant response, “I’ve got a couple of dementors that are knowledgeable enough. I may talk with our account manager; I’m sure a goblin tutor would be better at runework.”
“You would put your children in such close proximity to those beasts?” Madam Maxime looked scandalized.
Hadrian scowled at the woman, “They are not beasts; they are dark creatures, beings, if you will. They are still human underneath the lethifold.”
Karkaroff cut across the French woman, “The human is dead the moment the lethifold has them in their sights. They are monsters.”
Albus wanted to laugh; the others were doing his job for him.
Young Hadrian eyed the two visiting heads coldly, “Hogwarts hosted over a hundred dementors last year. There were no attacks whatsoever. Also, I have an uncle who is a dementor; he would be appalled to hear your classifications.”
“Enough, Hades.” Sirius laid his hand on his son’s shoulder before turning to the rest, “We will leave you for the night.”
Albus watched as the two Blacks left the room, followed shortly by the remaining crowd. He stared at the now-closed door, his mind racing with his thoughts.
How am I to keep an eye on the Blacks if they are not in the castle? An uncle who is a dementor? Was it the silver-robed dementor from last year? The Black children did seem awfully familiar with that one in particular, not that they didn’t visit with others as well.
Albus shook his head. The most important thing would be to allow the visiting students to partake in classes outside the core classes. That would at least enable Albus to have monitoring capabilities, not that he was very proficient with monitoring anyone in Slytherin nowadays.
He began his trek back to his office as he worked on his plan. When he finally made it up the stairs into his office, he glided to the large window overlooking the grounds. He watched the blue silk-clad students return to the Beauxbatons carriage and the red, fur-trimmed capes board a small boat to take them to their ship.
Only there were two boats.
He gaped as he watched the other boat, filled with a small group of individuals in black robes, glide across the water. Their destination was not the wooden ship moored beneath the stone cliffs. No, it was much worse.
Sirius Black had somehow constructed a fortress on the small island off the shore of the Black Lake. The island Albus had always envisioned as his final resting place.
The School House of Black Magic, a name Albus knew Sirius used to get under his skin, was housed in a fortress of black stone that shot above the evergreens. A fortress that was so eerily familiar it made his skin crawl. While it was half the size of the original, it was no less foreboding.
Black-cloaked beings floated among the trees like specters as they glided down to meet the boat, mist curling around their cloaks as their presence so close to the water’s edge formed a bank of fog that rolled across the shore.
The Black Lord had brought Azkaban to the shores of Hogwarts.