62 Time Passed

It's true, I did forget about Pippin. Just happened. As far as the Kitsune/Anime thing goes, I wanted to try some shit out. That's all, even though I am not sure what made it so "Anime".

----

It had been a month since Lucas and his mother had arrived in japan and there were no signs of the wizarding community looking for him. As a matter of fact he had not seen a single wizard visiting the hotel they were staying at. Not that he was complaining. Not even Pippin found any knews about him arriving in Japan in its magical parts.

For the first time in his life he could relax and spent his time without being under constant stress.

"This is it. Everything I wanted."

"This is how it should have been. I was never meant to be the main character. That's the Potters' job." Lucas mumbled to himself as the air bubbles massaged his back in the hot spring. "And it would have been, if not…" It mostly was his fault, there is no doubt in that. But as a human he was not the best at accepting his own faults. "… for the noble houses and Dumbledore. Just cause they fear what they can't control, they had to drag me into all this shit."

"But not anymore. Now I am free." Lucas said as a sigh of comfort escaped his lips, after increasing the temperature and the amount of bubbles.

Naturally, he kept up his training as well, but he stopped going overborard.

It too helped that Akane regularly visited, mostly without Yuki, to satisfy her desires. They hadn't gone over the line, physically speaking, as Lucas thought he was a bit too young for that, but he could see a posibility with her in a few years. Mentally however, especially as a master Legilimens, Lucas was able to do things to her that she never would have believed in her wildest fantasies.

----

Six months later it was summer again and although his wound had fully healed, the scar remained, more out of preference than need. It reminded him what could happen if he wasn't carefuly, and more importantly what could have happened if he hadn't trained so hard over all those years.

Back in Britain the students were on their way back, lively exchanging their plans for the holidays. The incident at the ministry almost forgotten under the usual rumours circulating in Hogwarts.

The twin Potters were picked up by their father at platform 9¾, ready to go home and tell their mum everything that had happened over the school year, even though they regularly sent letters.

But when Holly walked through the magical barrier she found herself in an unfamiliar place. It was an old shop, its incense-infused air bringing up memories of her family shop. Its wooden shelves partially stacked with the rarest ingredients she had ever seen. 

The sound of someone clearing his throat brought her out of her revery. She looked at its origin only to find someone reading the Daily Prophet in a way in which she wouldn't be able to get a glimpse at who it was.

Regardless, it mattered little to her. She wasn't seduced by the opportunity in front of her and rather wanted to go back to her family. "Excuse me. Do you know how I can get back to London?"

 "What a fine young lady your are. Are you sure you don't want to look some more?" The shopkeeper asked as he put down the newspaper. 'London again. And so soon after the last one.'

"Yeah, I am sure." Holly said, she was a bit weirded out by the cryptic store clerk.

"Well you just have to go back out through the doors and you will be right by your family. But before you go would you mind taking this book with you? Not many people visit this store any longer and I would hate to see it dilapidate more than it already has." He said in one smooth notion, while walking around the counter and pushing her towards the exit.

Holly was totally perplexed at this point, yet the man gave her a weird sense of familiarity, so she didn't refuse the old book that he pressed into her hands.

When she was already with one foot out of the door she vaguely heard him say, "you will know when the time is ripe."

And she was back in the muggle part of the train station.

"Holly, everything alright?" Her father asked her worriedly. She had been daydreaming for a while now after she walked through the barrier. 

"Yeah, everything alright." She said shaking her head. 'Must have been my imagination.'

Yet the ancient tome in her hands would suggest otherwise. Only now did she register that she was holding something. It all went that fast.

Its title was "αρχαία μαγεία".

----

Eventually the fourth year started.

During one of the Defence against the Dark Arts classes:

"I have a question professor?"

"Yes"

"If the forbidden curses are so strong, then why even bother with other spells?"

Moody's face distorted into a creepy smile "Well Miss Granger that is a great question, maybe the greatest of all time and there is an easy answer, apart from the obvious. Do you think such strong magic doesn't have a catch. Of course there is. Some call it nature's balance, others divine retribution, or karma. It has many names, but it all comes down to actions having consequences. Of course there are also those who seek to break this balance, there are even those who are said to have succeeded. Harry here is proof of the concept." At the end of his explanation he came to a stop in front of Potter and lifted his bangs up with his wand in order to admire his scar. "The dark lord wasn't fully able to break free."

----

"Sit down, please." Dumbledore said as he entered the room where the Goblet of Fire stood. "Now the moment you have all been waiting for. The champion selection."

The room was abuzz with anticipation as the students gathered around the Goblet of Fire, their eyes fixed on the ancient artifact. The flickering flames within the goblet cast a warm, blue glow over the assembled crowd. Excitement and mystery, a shared feeling in everyone gathered.

Dumbledore's presence commanded attention as he approached the goblet, his long, silvery beard flowing gently with his movements. He raised his hand to quiet the murmurs of the students, and a hush fell over the room. With a serene expression, he continued, "The Triwizard Tournament is a competition steeped in tradition and honor. Only those who are truly worthy will be chosen by the goblet to represent their school."

He reached out and tapped the goblet with his wand, causing the flames to flare briefly before settling into a steady, blue glow. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone awaited the goblet's decision. After a few moments, the flames turned red, and a piece of parchment shot out from the goblet, fluttering gently into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

"The champion for Durmstrang is..." Dumbledore paused, unfolding the parchment with deliberate care, "Viktor Krum!"

A wave of applause and cheers erupted from the Durmstrang faction as Viktor Krum, the famous Quidditch Seeker, stepped forward with a confident stride. He nodded respectfully to Dumbledore before walking off into the seperate room.

The flames of the goblet turned red once more, and another piece of parchment emerged, this time for Beauxbatons. Dumbledore caught it deftly and read aloud, "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

A chorus of cheers and applause rose from the Beauxbatons students, their pride evident. Fleur Delacour, with her ethereal beauty and grace, moved to join Viktor Krum, a determined look in her eyes.

The room fell silent once again as the goblet's flames turned red for the third time. The final parchment shot out, and Dumbledore caught it with a flick of his wrist. "The champion for Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted with applause and cheers. He approached Dumbledore with a humble smile, shaking his hand before joining Viktor and Fleur.

Just as the room began to relax, thinking the selection was complete, the goblet's flames turned an eerie, unexpected bloody red. The students and teachers exchanged confused glances as two additional pieces of parchment, one after the other, emerged from the flames.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed as he caught the parchments and read the first's name aloud, "Harry Potter."

A stunned silence fell over the room. All eyes turned to Harry, who sat frozen in his seat, his face pale with shock. Whispers and murmurs broke out among the students, questioning how Harry's name could have been entered into the goblet when he was underage.

"Harry, come forward," Dumbledore said, his voice calm but with an underlying urgency.

Harry stood up slowly, feeling every gaze in the room on him. His friends, Hermione and Ron, looked at him with wide eyes. He stumbled slightly as he made his way through the crowd, his mind racing with confusion and disbelief. As he reached Dumbledore, he glanced up and saw the headmaster's face was a mixture of concern and contemplation.

Dumbledore gave Harry a reassuring nod before turning his attention to the last parchment. He unfolded it carefully, his eyes widening slightly as he read the name.

'Who dares?' The headmaster looked up from the piece of paper and his piercing gaze swept over the assembled crowd. His eyes, usually twinkling with a touch of amusement, were now sharp and serious. Anger clearly visible.

The room was a storm of whispers and murmurs, the students' confusion echoing off the walls. The teachers exchanged concerned glances, and the magical flames of the Goblet of Fire flickered shortly, before extinguishing itself.

Yet against all the student's wishes, Dumbledore did not speak the last name chosen for the tournament and instead followed the four already chosen champions into the seperate room.

Inside the chamber, the atmosphere was tense. Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric stood with mixed expressions of determination and confusion, while Harry, still reeling from the shock stood to the side, alone.

Dumbledore stormed into the room, aggresively grabbed Harry's shoulders and "calmly" asked, "Harry, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"

Harry's eyes widened in alarm at Dumbledore's intense grip and tone. "No, Professor, I swear I didn't!" he exclaimed, his voice shaking.

Dumbledore searched Harry's eyes for a moment, then released his shoulders with a sigh, stepping back. "I believe you, Harry," he said more gently. "But this complicates matters."

Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff had followed Dumbledore into the room, their faces a mix of confusion and suspicion. Karkaroff's gaze was particularly cold as he glanced between Harry and Dumbledore. "How could this happen, Albus? The goblet is supposed to be infallible."

"Clearly, something... or someone... has interfered," Dumbledore replied, his eyes narrowing in thought. "But right now, we must deal with the immediate situation. We have four champions, not three."

"But there was a fifth name," Karkaroff interjected, his voice laced with frustration. "Why didn't you read it aloud?"

"Because he would never return." Dumbledore replied as a matter of fact. "And even if he did, there would be no point in competing ', because he would win against all of you.' "

"There is nothing we can do Albus," Bartemius Crouch Senior interjected, "It is a magically binding contract. Every person the Goblet of Fire chose has to compete, if they want to or not. Whoever the goblet chose has to compete."

The atmosphere in the room grew even more charged as the weight of Crouch's words settled over the assembled champions and the professors. Dumbledore's eyes flickered with a mixture of concern and resolve as he turned his attention back to Harry.

"Harry, you will compete," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We will ensure your safety as much as possible, but the tournament rules are clear."

Harry nodded numbly, still grappling with the surreal reality of the situation. He felt a mixture of fear and determination rising within him, but also something greater. Like a calling. Maybe this was always meant to happen and it was his destiny to compete in the legendary Triwizard Tournament.

Dumbledore turned to the other champions. "This year, the tournament will be even more perilous. You must all be prepared for anything. Trust in yourselves and each other, and remember that your primary goal is to survive."

'Especially with him participating.'