Monday, October 31, 1994
Great Hall, Hogwarts
(Gilderoy Lockhart)
"The Goblet should be ready any minute now," Dumbledore announced, his voice carrying effortlessly through the crowded Great Hall.
At the center of the room, the Goblet of Fire burned atop its pedestal, blue-white flames dancing lazily in the dimmed hall.
Students leaned forward in anticipation. Even the professors appeared more alert than usual.
As for me…
Well.
I had been staring at that blasted cup for the better part of twenty-four hours.
And apparently Sirius had noticed.
"You've been watching the Goblet since yesterday without a moment's rest," he murmured suddenly, leaning closer. "What is it?"
I blinked innocently.
"Who? Me?"
Sirius gave me a deeply unimpressed look.
"The Map doesn't lie," he said flatly. "According to it, you haven't left the Great Hall for almost a full day."
I paused.
Then immediately forgot about denying anything.
"Oh, you have the Marauder's Map?" I asked with interest. "Where did you get it?"
Sirius grinned shamelessly. "Nicked it off the twins a few days ago."
Of course he did.
"Saw them using it to sneak Dungbombs into Filch's office," he continued with obvious pride. "Took it for old times' sake."
I snorted softly.
Somehow, despite being a grown man and now a professor, Sirius still radiated the exact energy of a teenager five seconds away from detention.
Then his expression shifted.
The amusement faded slightly.
"So?" he asked quietly. "What's going on?"
I remained silent for a moment, watching the Goblet's flames flicker.
"Are you worried something's going to happen during the Tournament?" Sirius pressed.
Slowly, I nodded.
"Yes," I admitted. "I fear Hogwarts will not remain peaceful this year."
Sirius smirked. "When is it ever peaceful?"
"Well," I replied, "last year was relatively calm thanks to yours truly."
I adjusted my sleeves elegantly.
"After all, once I captured you, nothing else particularly catastrophic occurred."
I paused thoughtfully.
"Other than Snape revealing Remus' furry little problem to the public, of course."
Sirius immediately scowled. "That bastard."
The words came out with genuine venom.
"If it weren't for him, Remus would still be teaching. He loved the job."
There was enough emotion there that I briefly glanced at him.
Sirius truly did care deeply about his friends, in his own chaotic way.
"It may have been for the best," I said eventually.
He frowned.
"The curse is still active," I explained. "If Remus had remained in the position longer, something far worse might have happened to him."
Sirius' anger dimmed slightly. "When you put it like that…" he muttered.
Then, abruptly, he grinned again. "Still, he landed on his feet."
"Oh?"
"He's the Black family regent now."
Sirius looked immensely pleased with himself.
"You should've seen my mother's portrait when I announced that a werewolf would be representing the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in the Wizengamot."
He burst into laughter.
I could not help joining him.
"Oh, believe me," I said, "I already know how that went."
Sirius blinked. "You do?"
"I happened to witness Umbridge learning the same information."
That alone nearly made me laugh again.
"She tried desperately to have him removed, but unfortunately for her, there is no law preventing a werewolf from acting as family regent."
Sirius looked delighted. "That's brilliant."
"Her face was less so."
Before he could respond, the Goblet suddenly changed.
The previously calm blue flames surged violently upward, twisting and roaring high into the air.
The Great Hall fell silent instantly.
Every eye locked onto the ancient cup.
Then…
FWOOOSH!
A burning scrap of parchment shot from the flames.
Dumbledore caught it smoothly between two fingers and unfolded it calmly.
"The champion for Beauxbatons Academy," he announced, "is Fleur Delacour."
The Ravenclaw table erupted.
Well.
Half the hall erupted.
Most of the male population immediately burst into thunderous applause as Fleur rose gracefully to her feet.
The young witch moved like liquid elegance, silver-blonde hair shimmering beneath the candlelight as she made her way toward the staff table.
Several boys looked moments away from proposing marriage on the spot.
Meanwhile…
The other Beauxbatons students appeared significantly less enchanted.
Some looked openly bitter.
One girl seemed close to tears.
Ah yes.
The unfortunate downside of Veela allure.
It worked splendidly on the opposite sex, but the same could not always be said for those of the same gender.
As Fleur passed the staff table, her eyes briefly slid toward me.
A look lingered there for half a second too long.
I simply smiled politely and applauded in congratulations.
Beside me, Sirius smirked.
"That Veela bird was making eyes at you."
I sighed dramatically.
"The woes of being me," I lamented softly. "Another poor soul lost to my irresistible charm."
Sirius barked out a laugh. "You're unbelievable."
"I have been told so frequently."
The Goblet roared again as another parchment burst forth.
Dumbledore caught it immediately.
"The champion for Durmstrang Institute… is Ivan Karkaroff."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Igor Karkaroff leapt to his feet applauding loudly enough for half the hall.
His nephew, meanwhile, rose with remarkable composure.
No surprise.
No excitement.
No nervousness.
If anything, Ivan looked like he had expected it..
The young man simply adjusted his cuffs and walked calmly through the hall while Durmstrang students cheered around him.
Even Viktor Krum cheered him on.
Curious.
As Ivan passed the staff table, his expression remained perfectly controlled.
There was definitely something different about this boy who didn't exist in the story I remembered.
And I disliked unexplained variables.
The Goblet flared a third time.
The flames twisted sharply as another parchment flew into Dumbledore's waiting hand.
And immediately…
Something changed.
His smile froze, if just slightly.
Most students probably missed it, but I did not.
Dumbledore unfolded the paper slowly, then spoke.
"The champion for Hogwarts…"
A pause.
"…is Harry Potter."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The entire Great Hall turned toward the Gryffindor table as one.
Including me.
Harry himself looked utterly stunned.
Hermione grabbed his shoulder and practically hauled him upright while Ron stared at him with wide eyes before immediately breaking into applause.
A welcome improvement from the original timeline.
Character growth truly was a beautiful thing.
Then Sirius exploded into motion beside me.
"That's my godson!"
He leapt to his feet applauding wildly, whistling loudly enough to wake the dead.
Several students joined in immediately.
Others looked confused.
A few shouted "Cheater!"
But those voices were quickly drowned beneath Gryffindor cheers.
Fred and George stood on the table yelling like lunatics.
Lee Jordan nearly fell off a bench.
Ginny looked ready to hex anyone who objected.
Meanwhile Harry himself looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
Reasonable reaction, honestly.
Across the hall, however…
Not everyone looked surprised.
Igor Karkaroff watched Harry with calm, unreadable eyes.
Interesting.
Very interesting indeed.
I had personally ensured that no one tampered with the Goblet.
Personally.
For the past twenty-four hours, my eyes had barely left the ancient artefact for more than a few seconds at a time. Between layered detection charms, subtle Legilimency, tracking spells, and sheer paranoia, I had watched that cup more closely than most people watched their newborn children.
And yet…
Harry Potter's name had still emerged from the flames.
Which should have been impossible.
Or at the very least, impossible through ordinary means.
My fingers tapped lightly against the table as applause and whispers continued around the hall.
Something was wrong here.
Very wrong.
Sirius was still grinning proudly beside me, entirely focused on Harry.
Dumbledore looked calm.
And Igor Karkaroff…
Ah.
Now there was an interesting expression.
The man looked tense.
Not surprised or confused.
But worried.
As though events were unfolding according to a plan he didn't like.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
No one had physically approached the Goblet during my watch.
That much I knew with absolute certainty.
Meaning the tampering had likely occurred beforehand.
Or…
My thoughts paused.
Or the Goblet itself had not been altered at all.
That possibility settled unpleasantly in the back of my mind.
A different method entirely.
Something indirect.
Something elegant.
Something that bypassed conventional safeguards rather than confronting them directly.
I already had several suspicions forming.
None of them comforting.
Unfortunately, suspicion alone was useless.
I would need proof.
And proof, unlike fame, rarely arrived dramatically on its own.
…
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