A/N: Hello and welcome to another installment of Hell's Princess.

First off, I'd like to address an anonymous review under the guise of 'Me Myself and I'. To begin with, you do make some excellent points although I thought I had made it clear this story was AU. Like that Year 4's DADA teacher is Bill Weasley instead of the fake Alastor Moody. This also relates to the female Blaise Zabini I decided to go with. For risk of spoilers, her view towards Raela is not out of character for good reason. That's all I'll say about Blaise at this time.

Onto the next bit: the title Hell's Princess and the fae themes have yet to be explained in the story as thus posted so far. It will be elaborated in the near future in the following chapters, so don't worry about it too much.

My inspiration for making Raela a Drow elf comes from a variety of sources such as D&D, Pop Culture, my own fucked up brain and webcomics. There are many iterations of Drow, many with very similar appearances. Some are dark-blue-black with white hair, some are grey-black and some are brown-black. Dark/Drow elves are pretty interchangeable depending on your view. Plus when put into writing some people mistake the adjective 'black' to refer to individuals of African descent. I'm simply just trying to prevent such confusion there though my mind's eye does picture Raela with traditional black skin, white hair with a sort of starry/galaxy effect going on if that makes any sense.

Although if any of you are curious, Raela's base form; as in the human version of her is pretty standard. Short, raven hair with the famous unruly Potter hair although she greatly resembles Dorea Black. Of course, the bright green eyes from her mother. Average sized chest, etc. Of course the fact that she can essentially be anyone she wants to be, her base form will rarely be seen.

About the show; I would agree if we were talking about a simple Harry genderbend. Unfortunately, it's not quite right. Because Raela is both a drow elf, but also fae, she has a dark, whimsical if vindictive personality that will show up in the future, also because of a certain something that happens soon as well. It'll all be clear in future chapters. I hope.

Now for the suggestions: I've already planned for Raela's magic to be centered around shadows which incidentally, fits very well with the Black Family magicks as well as some others only found within the ruins of certain places. I of course, have ideas in mind but I am open to suggestions.

The horcrux is something I'm still considering on what to do with. Should I make it merge with Raela, granting her awful and dark knowledge or do I have her learn about it through a series of dreams or Madam Pomfrey discovering it and have it removed by a third party? Regardless, the scar isn't noticeable thanks to her black skin. Plus as a metamorph, she could always move it to somewhere on her body no one looks at.

Finally, thank you for such an in-depth review. Such feedback is very helpful and I wish I had more like this!

Sorry for the lengthy author's note. Now onto the show. I hope y'all enjoy what I've delivered today. Ciao.

Chapter IV

For those that wished to put their name forward for the champion selection, they were given exactly one week to do so. The Goblet of Fire was placed in the entrance hall. A visibly white ring of a smoky substance hovered around the pedestal the cup was placed upon.

Raela wasn't interested at all in who from what house or school would be planning on entering the drawing to represent their school. She wished people wouldn't gossip so loudly about the subject, but it was hard not to listen when it was happening everywhere.

But the worst offender was her former best friend, Ronald Weasley. Despite the fact or because of him being a Gryffindor, the lanky redhead was either unable or had the inability to control the volume of his voice. So the consistent fawning of Viktor Krum was certainly not lost on Raela.

If she was honest with herself, the dark elf had lost her interest in quidditch. It was an okay sport and it was always a fun challenge to find, follow and catch the snitch before the other seeker, but Raela preferred to just fly. And on her weekends, she would just that on her new broom Sirius had bought for her. While the Firebolt had been relevant a year ago, a new broom in its beta stages called the Stormwyrm came out. Of course her dad had to spoil her with something unavailable to even the public, not that she was complaining. Sirius Black loved to spoil his daughter, his absence from her life for the last twelve years notwithstanding.

Although if there was something she had noticed since the foreign schools had taken to staying at Hogwarts, Raela had if after a few days, noticed that whenever a certain pale blonde French girl went, boys and even some girls would stare at her with a glazed look in their eyes. If she cared at all, she'd investigate but it seemed like it was more trouble than it would be worth. So she did nothing.

Even with distracted students, standoffish visitors and wary teachers, sometimes Raela felt there was something strange going on in the background. Something that affected her in one way or another. This was one such of those days.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Raela. She stopped and raised an eyebrow. George had pulled his little brother there too. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron, a confused expression crawling onto his freckled face. He looked at Raela without recognition of who she was and mouthed to her, 'what's he on about?' She didn't know either and merely shrugged.

"The Aging Potion, dung for brains," said Fred with minor irritation.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older. That's all it should take to get us past the line."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Raela in a bored drawl though warningly. "I'm sure that old fart - I mean Dumbledore will have thought of this. In fact, if this harebrained scheme of yours fails as spectacularly as I'm thinking, then I'll laugh."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her. "Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then - I'll go first -"

Raela watched, ironically fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley - Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line. For a split second Raela thought it had worked - George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter.

They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards. The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"You said-"

To which his twin said at the same time, "You said!"

Neither finished their sentences as they had tackled each other to the ground and began to wrestle each other. It was quite a sight to see two teenagers given beards and looking like old men and fighting each other.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, Raela who was also still chortling, went into the Great Hall for breakfast.

[A/N: I couldn't resist adding this scene]

That night after seeing the Weasley twins fail epically to enter their names into the tournament, Raela found herself restless. She had tossed and turned in her oversized bed, unable to drift off to the land of dreams.

Snapping her eyes open, she stared off into the shadowy room. It was so empty and dark, lacking coziness of a well lived in bedroom. Somehow, she missed the sounds of other sleeping people. Well, she could do well without Ron's motorboat snoring.

"Why can't I sleep?" she mumbled to herself, her voice a miniscule breeze in the vast emptiness of the dormitory. Loneliness makes poor company, even for a House of one.

A soft lilting tone of the feminine persuasion called out in the darkness, "Because I have been trying to subtly get your attention for the past thirty minutes. Small pulses of magicka can achieve only so much."

Immediately, Raela sat up in bed, the covers falling off from her bare chest. Her wand grasped from the bedside table already emitted a faint glow before she had even begun to cast lumos.

"Who's there?"

Silence reigned over the room. Just the occasional creak from the semi-sentient castle. Besides her own breathing, it was as quiet as a cemetery in the dead of winter. Holding her illuminated wand tip over the Marauder's Map, she spoke the password. Her eyes danced over the worn parchment yet she couldn't find anyone else in the room besides her own little marker. Shaking her head,the elven witch muttered, "I must be going crazy."

"Imagination is a vital component to being a witch as is intellect and logic, but in this case, it is not you who has tipped off the scales of sanity." It was that same voice again that Raela had heard a few minutes prior.

Frowning, the fourteen year old sighed and said aloud to the empty room. "Are you sure? Because I sound absolutely ridiculous talking to myself with nobody around and I know for a fact it's not the Grey Lady."

An amused snort sounded and the womanly voice replied, "Adorable as it is to see you flounder around in the dark, I would ask you come to the wall opposite the window."

If for nothing other than the desire to go back to bed, Raela sauntered across the dormitory where she found the usually empty frame. Except that it wasn't this time. A woman that reminded her an awful lot of Helena Ravenclaw dressed in clothing from the founders' time now occupied the painting.

"About time you found me. And here I wonder how you became a part of this House," snorted the painted woman. "And a pleasant evening as well I suppose. Not that it means anything. Days are the days and nights are nights. Hardly ever anything good or bad about them. Haha...Pleasantries were never really my forte despite Rowena and Haelga's insistence on the importance of niceties. I suppose you must be wondering who I am."

"Yes actually. Most paintings are titled accordingly to the subject within the frame. You are still unknown to me."

The woman chuckled. "Most who are sorted into my house are already knowing of my existence and my extension, my feats. Ahem, allow me to properly introduce myself: I am none other than Morgana Guinevere Le'fay, High Sorceress of Avalon."

Raela was genuinely surprised. As far as she knew, Merlin, Morgana and other Arthurian legends were merely that, legends. She cleared her through and said, "Really? Your chocolate frog card is quite controversial because it shows a picture of some old hag and not the fair lady in the painting before me."

Morgana as she was now named, chortled with heartiness."My dear lady indeed! Now I understand! You were always destined to be in my house. None other than a descendant of mine own would belong otherwise in the House of the Dire-kin!"

"What are you on about?" She asked in confusion.

In response, Morgana inquired, "You are a Metamorphmagus, correct?" Raela nodded. "Let me see your base form dear."

She complied, seeing no reason not to trust a painting of a forgotten witch. In a matter of a few moments, Raela's skin lightened to a pale peach. Her galactic hued hair darkened to a sleek bluish-black while her eyes returned to the vivid emeralds she'd had most of her life. Oddly though, her ears remained elfin; possibly a testament to her fae heritage which remained quite unknown to her.

"Yes! Yes I was right!" crowed Morgana with unmitigated excitement burgeoning in her voice. "I may be just a portrait, but I had a gut feeling and I was right! I almost can't believe it!"

Raela found herself even more confused than she had been a few minutes ago. "Okay, I still have little to know idea what you're talking about and I know someone who talks about imaginary magical creatures that don't exist. Just tell me what's making you so bloody happy already!"

Morgana chuckled from inside her painting. "I'm sorry dear. It's just that it's been 800 years since I talked to anyone and the first witch I do talk to is in fact, my descendant. I don't know whether it's pure irony or a divine blessing from the heavens. Although it would be more ironic...ah nevermind. Your adorable look of confusion must mean you're unaware. I wouldn't doubt that whatever government is in control has either burned all positive information about me or have had it sealed."

"Sealed? A will is one thing even if it's an underhanded move and in some ways possibly linetheft, but how could someone seal an entire array of information?"

"Oh my naive little descendant, "chirped the ancient witch, "I expected better of you. I suppose it cannot be helped. A group of people of the Catholic faith known as the Templar were non magical humans with an extremely xenophobic approach. They spat on the Old Ways, forsaking the Druids and Mages and set to exterminating us. So witches and wizards were forced to go into hiding. Hogwarts was founded in order to protect the young and unlearned from those that would accuse them of evil because they wielded magic. Worst of all are the heretics that joined the Order of hypocrisy. The Templar never stopped searching and eventually they found me when I was away from the safety of the castle. As far as I know, my remains were sealed away to somewhere in South America. My personal affects either destroyed or sealed within my tomb."

With a sigh, Raela asked, "An enlightening little history lesson and no less appreciated, but I'm still wondering how you concluded that I'm a descendant of yours. As far as I'm aware I'm a half-blood with a little fae mixed in. Pureblood father and mum muggleborn...er...first generation witch."

"Fae? My my, I am impressed," purred Morgana. "That must have helped the dormant Le'fay powers surface. Wild magick has a nasty habit of being accentuating strong magic in a witch. Hecate knows how many witches born of fae blood. Anyways, I can see you squirming in anticipation. The way I knew you are kin, is because of such bright, vivid green eyes. Like those that run in the blood of my children and my children's children and so forth. Second of all, every child I have birth or sired has intrinsically been gay, or bisexual at the very least. I'm not sure whether it's personal preference or whether there's a magic of itself. Regardless of its nature, you are my descendant. Which brings me to a request I would ask of you."

Tilting her head, her mind still reeled with the fact she was distantly related to the Morgana Le'fay! She coughed as she regained her senses and said, "What would you have of me, honored ancestor?"

"What I require of you is no small feat but a priceless artifact hopefully in pristine condition shall be your reward," said Morgana without levity. "As I said earlier, my possessions were likely buried with my body. My Grimoire, a focus in itself is your prize. Locate my tomb, break the enchantments protecting the entrance and you'll have a weapon that rivals most staves, wands and other magical foci."

"What next, you're going to order me to find the lost portraits of Hogwarts' Founders?"

Morgana remained disturbingly reticent to proffered query. After a moment, the fair woman replied, "I wouldn't put it so much as 'ordering' as it is a request to your best interests. They taught me what I knew and im sure they would enjoy imparting their knowledge unto you. Although once my Grimoire is in your hopefully capable hands, I will be able to offer you training. There are things even they hadn't learned. If you so choose to accept my proposal."

"I'll need to think about it." She said that aloud to her possible teacher. "I'm starting to wonder if it's not too late to go live as a muggle," the she-elf mumbled under her breath as she crawled back into bed, too tired to process all the information just gifted to her. She wished Morgana a good night before falling prey to the land of dreams.

Classes had gone as scheduled even though today was the day the contestants for the big tournament would be selected by an impartial judge, a sacred artifact known as the Goblet of Fire. A silly name, Raela thought, for something of supposed immense magical power.

The feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two months, Raela didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as she normally would have. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, those individuals unable to cease fidgeting, and those standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, Raela simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions. She had a bad feeling rising in her gut; one that refused to go away.

During the feast, a few from all three schools had decided to join Raela at her table if nothing more than for simple international cooperation. Or so she believes. Two witches from beauxbatons were friendly enough; Katarina du Couteau and Samara de la Vega were an unlikely pair of friends, one confident, sadistic and had blood red hair while the other was somewhat soft spoken, girly and had coal black locks. One from France and one from Spain. Then there was the one Durmstrang boy who refused to talk, merely listen. When pressed for a name, he had opted to write his name on his plate using ketchup. So all they learned about him was that his name was Makarov Ivanovich. Together, they made the small table diverse and rather odd.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored. As if his thoughts merited importance over the current events.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semi darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting...A few people kept checking their watches. The tension and suspense was so thick one could sever it with a dull file.

The smouldering embers inside the goblet turned suddenly red. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white. "The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

Applause spread like wildfire across the hall, beginning first with the devoted fans. Then general fans of professional quidditch and finally the rest of the students were clapping loudly. Even the newly mute Makarov gave a grunt of approval.

Once more, the judge's flames turned red once more, the sight quelling the cheering from before. A gout of flame expelled another slip of parchment which was gingerly snatched out of the air.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," announced Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

When the French witch's name had been called, there was a half hearted applause. Polite, but not overly excited. A glance around the hall revealed that many of the students were split between staring googly eyed at the blonde as she passed by them and glaring daggers into her back.

Leaning over to Katarina, she had asked, "What's up with her? Why aren't people happy that she got picked as a champion?"

With an indignant huff, the redheaded witch replied darkly, "That's Fleur Delacour. She's not popular with most people at our school. Lot of rumors have been started just to spite her. Not sure if any of them have any real merit, but with her frigid demeanor, she's not exactly the easiest to get along with. Best to steer clear of her."

Raela frowned and shook her head. Drama of others was not something she needed to involve herself in.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next... And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment. "The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Then it shifted through the pinks and finally a royal purple before the fire shot towards the ceiling in a pillar of pure magical fire. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore.

And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out - "Raela Black."

Raela sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at her. She was stunned. Her ears felt numb, raw even as blood rushed north. She was surely dreaming; that she had not heard correctly.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Raela as she sat, frozen, in her seat. Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall. "Raela Black!" he called again, no hint of mirth in his eyes. "Miss Black! Up here, if you please!"

Raela got to her feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. She set off up the gap between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; the top table didn't seem to be getting any nearer at all, and she could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon her, as though each were a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour but had realistically been a few scant minutes, she was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the skeptical stares of all the teachers upon her.

"Well.. . through the door, Miss Black," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling. She could sense thinly veiled contempt.

Raela moved off along the teachers' table and went through the door out of the Great Hall and found herself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A smouldering fire was crackling in the hearth opposite from where she had entered. The faces in the portraits turned to look at her as she entered. She saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear. Her heightened sense of hearing caught snippets about them gossiping about her appearance.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire.

Fleur Delacour looked around when Raela walked in and threw back her curtain of long, silvery sleek hair. "What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?" The French witch must have been under the impression that the elf had come to deliver a message.

Raela swallowed hard. She didn't know how to explain what had just happened. So she just stood there, looking at the three champions. It struck her how very tall all of them were, even against her own growth spurt she'd be since discovering her fae heritage. There was a sound of scurrying feet behind her, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Raela by the arm and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Raela's arm much to the latter's obvious discomfort. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen. . . ladies," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed the dark elf. Cedric looked nonplussed, but surprisingly not angry. The Hufflepuff looked from Bagman to Raela and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Miss Black's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!" Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered.

Fleur frowned. "But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "She cannot compete. She is too young."

"Well. . . it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Raela who found his gaze creepy. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as her name's come out of the goblet.. . I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage. . . . It's down in the rules, you're obliged. . . Raela will just have to do the best she -"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Raela heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little fille is to compete also!"

Her comment cut surprisingly deep through the elf's numbing disbelief, her anger rippling beneath the surface. It took a little bit of self control to not snarl out at the French witch. Instead, Raela decided to play naughty. She'd show her better.

Lifting the hem of her skirt, Raela asked in a soft, husky voice, "Do these thighs look like they belong to a little girl?" A few centimeters higher revealed the tops of the lace tights she wore. Even a glimpse of the black knickers to the older witch.

It was just for the briefest of moments, but the Dark elf's predatorial eyes caught sight of Fleur's pinkening ears.

A delightful giggle emanated from Raela's lips as her finger tips let the skirt fall back to her knees and gave a pirouette.

"But she simply cannot compete," came the veela's accented outburst, having overcome the elf's flirtatious number. "She is simply too young. She is just a little girl!"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because when her azure eyes flicked over to Raela, a sense of dread and fury choked the air around her. Those impossibly crimson orbs flecked with gold brimmed fury.

"You dare?!"

Two words she had spoken- no, snarled, but the magic and emotion behind those two syllables practically shook the ground beneath her feet. Fleur opened her mouth to fire a retort, but nothing came out.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled. "What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that, myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like imprisoned glaciers. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He gave a short and nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Black's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Black's determination to break rules. She has been crossing lines ever since she arrived here. Like father, like daughter, she -"

"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair. Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Raela, who looked right back at her, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles. "Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Miss Black?" he asked calmly.

"No," Raela answered curtly. She was very aware of everybody watching her closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

. "No," said Raela vehemently, her tone beginning to become coated with venom.

"Ah, but of course she is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"Young Miss Black could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely although his undertone severely doubted what had come from his own mouth.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Miss Black could not have crossed the line herself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that she did not persuade an older student to do it for her, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!" She shot a very angry look at Professor Snape.

"Mr. Crouch.. . Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?" Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance.

When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice. "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

"I insist upon re-submitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"

"- in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door. A clunk from the person's peg-leg caused Raela to shift her gaze in order to see a grizzled old man limping towards them. It was an auror she had heard about from Sirius; Alastor Moody, the craziest or most paranoid man in all of Magical Britain. What was he doing here?

"You can't leave your champion now. Lil missy's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Raela snorted, interrupting the arguing adults, "If you've nothing left to say to us, then I would excuse myself so I may refrain from...unsavory actions."

"Ah, but I do need to inform you four of the first of three trials," said Ludo. "The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Raela, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard...or witch. Anyways, it's very important. "The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and a panel of judges." He then turned to his colleague to conclude.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests." Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment... I've left young Weatherby in charge.. . . Very enthusiastic. . . a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barry, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly, mispronouncing his colleague's name. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

Raela did not stay to hear further protest from the ex-beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. She was out in a matter of moments.

A/N: Short chapter, I know. But if I hadn't cut it there, it would've been another obscenely long chapter that take me another six months to write. Also another thing: I'm going back to rework the prologue and earlier chapters. I'm going to hopefully rewrite or add more meaningful scenes for a more cohesive story. So when chapter 5 comes out, it would be in your best interests to reread from the beginning before proceeding to the newest chapter. Otherwise shit won't make sense and you'll be irrevocably lost amidst the familiar unfamiliarity of what has been woven and unraveled.

Going along with the planned revision and tweaking, I was considering changing our heroine's name. Raela is a little out there for a Harry Potter fanfic even then. So I was thinking of renaming her Violet, Merida or Sapphire. But I'm also open to whatever suggestions my faithful readers suggest! So let's see your ideas.

Last question: should I just scrap this fic and repost it once the prologue and chapter 1 have been revised/reworked so you'll all get notifications?

TTFN!