HP: A Magical Journey

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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: AlanL/Alan_Loo]

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The same night the Goblet of Fire was revealed to the students and the Triwizard Tournament was opened. A figure walked alone in the empty corridors of Hogwarts castle. The figure, dressed in a dark brown hooded attire, silently moved on the castle's ground floor in the dead of the night. They appeared in front of a great closed door. The figure stepped towards the door but stopped before he could enter and the raised hands could push the door open.

The figure stepped back and took something out from their pocket. After muttering a few words, the figure watched the object intently. Satisfied with their findings, the figure pocketed the article before raising both hands. A white light membrane spread outwards, soon covering the great door. Seeing that the magical membrane remained white, the figure pushed the great door open to enter the hall.

"He should really start using detection wards. He is the headmaster for magic's sake," sighed the figure. He pulled up the hood. It was Quinn.

Standing in the Great Hall, Quinn looked ahead. He walked forward. A hewn wooden goblet stood with dancing blue-white flames in it. It had been placed in the hall's center on the stool that usually bore the Sorting Hat. Surrounding the goblet, a thin golden line had been traced on the floor.

As Quinn stood just outside the boundary, he squatted down and nodded in appreciation, "Well, I have to give it to Dumbledore. This certainly will keep the students out." The Age Line was strong, very strong. But that wasn't exactly surprising, as the one who cast the Age Line was an accomplished magical user that even had the Death Stick as a focus.

"Now... let's see if what is said is true or not," smiled Quinn and took out a blank slip of paper. The paper slip levitated and flew into the area past the Age Line, but the moment it did, the paper burned into ashes.

"All right, levitating a slip into the Goblet is covered," nodded Quinn. Then, he continued to test out different things. Like conjuring a bird and, with a slip in its beak to drop it in Goblet, throwing a crumpled ball of paper without magic, and so on. But every time, the blank slip of paper would burn in a white-ish blue flare, turning into dust.

"Is this Dumbledore's spell work or the Goblet's innate magic?" pondered Quinn before coming to a circumstantial conclusion that as the paper burned in white-blue just like the Goblet's flames, the magic must be from the Goblet.

'I should hurry.' He took out a piece of light-red chalk from his pockets and started to draw along the Age Line, circling the Goblet till a dull-red circle enclosed the Age Line.

He knelt down and touched the chalk line with a finger. He closed his eyes and started to channel his magic into the chalk. Suddenly, the dull-red chalk started to glow up in a neon-red colour. Then, the circle's line transformed into thrumming runic characters that sent out slight undulations of magic.

And promptly... everything disappeared.

'Phew, this chalk sure is a powerful conduit,' thought Quinn. The red chalk was one of the runic conduit materials that he had researched and developed in his free time. The chalk stick wasn't something Quinn regularly used to draw runes with, as he preferred to either etch runes into wood/metal or inscribe them in parchment, cloth, or leather.

"Let's see whether this works," said Quinn. He took out one of his personal royal blue WMF-id cards. Then, he moved the card to see his signature in bronze ink. Below the signature written in bronze was Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He raised his right hand towards and the space near his hand distorted, and at the same time, the area surrounding the Goblet distorted. With every second, the distortion became stronger.

"Come on! This shouldn't be hard. Barty Jr. could do it; I should be able to do the same," groaned Quinn. He hadn't considered that Barty Jr. had had help from a master of magical arts, though.

Even though he didn't know, when Quinn surpassed eighty percent of his total output, his eyes turned from stone-grey to purple. Starting at forty percent percent output, Quinn's magic had already reached a point that couldn't be seen from a minor. It was so potent that the distortion had grown to form a path between his hand and the Goblet

The Goblet of Fire was now glowing so bright that Quinn was having trouble looking at it, and the entire hall was illuminated in a white-bluish light. The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. The next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air for a while before the fire subsided to their usual calm state. What changed, however, was the color; the flames remained red.

"... It worked, finally! That was one powerful confundus," sighed Quinn, and his purple eyes turned stone-gray once again.

The Goblet was in its active state; right now, it would accept every single name put out into it. The Goblet of Fire didn't have an age limit, which meant that if someone got past the Age Line, they would be able to put in their names, but Quinn didn't want to mess with the Age Line in case Dumbledore had done something special with it. So he targeted the Goblet itself by disabling all the innate security measures.

"Now, I can enter my name," said Quinn and flicked his signed WMF-id card towards the Goblet, fully intending to enter his name for the tournament. From the bottom of his heart, Quinn wanted his name to enter the Goblet so he could become a champion.

The card flew in a curved path towards the Goblet, but mid-flight, the royal blue card was attacked by a red zap of lightning, shredding and incinerating it simultaneously.

"Oh! It worked," said Quinn clapping his hand.

Quinn West had nothing to gain by entering the Triwizard tournament. He had the money, and even if he wanted personal fame unrelated to his family, Quinn had plenty of ways to publicize him.

The red chalk line was a warding charm bound to the chalk conduit, which was designed to eliminate any mention of his name and a few other names. While Quinn ensured that he carelessly didn't leave behind his signatures and name written by his own hand, a few things outside his secure personal collection contained them. So if someone got their hands on those select few samples and used them to enter his name, he needed to make sure they wouldn't work.

Quinn could enter himself in the Tri-wizard, but no one else was allowed.

"Intent is paramount," whispered Quinn.

The best way to check that his defense worked was if Quinn HIMSELF entered his name with the FULL INTENTION to participate in a WEAKENED/CONFUSED Goblet of Fire. Putting all those conditions together resulted in the optimal situation to enter a name.

"My work is done here," smiled Quinn, giving the Goblet of Fire a glance. Red flames flashed before turning back to their normal white-bluish state.

He pulled up his hood, took out Recon, which he had checked before entering the Great Hall, and observed his vicinity. The map showed no one was near him, but Quinn did see the Death Eater out in the corridors outside of the Professor's apartments when he said Barty Jr.'s name.

"Everybody is working hard, even the bad guys," chuckled Quinn before pulling on his hood and disappearing out of sight.

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As the next day was Saturday, most students would generally have breakfast late. However, many students rose much earlier than they usually did on weekends. Quinn and the gang were always comparatively early to get because of Quinn and Eddie's early morning workouts; as such, Marcus and Luna had gained a habit to get up early so they could go have breakfast early. When they went down into the Great hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It was in the same place Quinn had seen it at night, and they stood outside of the Golden Age Line.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Eddie asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Marcus. "I would've if it had been me… wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the Goblet just gobbled you right back out again?"

Someone laughed behind them. Turning, all saw Fred and George Weasley, along with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, entering the hall, looking extremely excited.

Quinn watched, semi-interestingly, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words "Fred Weasley. Hogwarts." Fred Weasley 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, everyone thought it had worked —George, Harry, and Ron certainly thought so, for they let out a yell of triumph and leaped after Fred— but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and all four 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.

Quinn looked at Harry lying on the ground and thought in amusement, 'You don't need to try so hard, buddy. Someone already did your work for you.'

The Great 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.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming into 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 Ms. 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."

Quinn glanced at the headmaster and thought, 'He appeared out of nowhere. . . Does he have a detection imbibed into the Age Line? Maybe something that would trigger with the Age Line.' He looked at the golden line and then shrugged in indifference. As long as his or his close friends' names weren't put in, he couldn't care less.

The four set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats fluttered around the enchanted ceiling while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Quinn, of course, for the occasion, had put on his pointe hat with a few Halloween-themed lapel pins just like he did every year. Luna had copied him and worn her hat a few self-made Halloween accessories. Marcus celebrated by eating pumpkin pie for breakfast, and Eddie enjoyed the occasion by scaring some first and second years with homebrewed horror stories.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," said Marcus. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Eddie, who had played Quidditch with the Ravenclaw team and heard about Warrington, looked away from the little ones and shook his head in disgust.

"We can't have him as a champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory,"" continued Eddie mockingly. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Oh, he will enter his name. There is no doubt about that, he told me himself, and I think he already did it," said Quinn informing.

People suddenly cheered in the Great hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. She walked over to Goblet and entered her name.

'Hmm, she turned seventeen last week, didn't she?' thought Quinn, a finger on his temple as he pulled out information from his mindscape.

The students from Beauxbatons camethrough the front doors from the entrance hall, among them, the Veela, Fleur Delacour. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.

Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"What do you reckon will happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Marcus muttered to Quinn as the Fleur dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"They will stay and study with sixth and seventh-year students," answered Quinn. "Can't have them wasting time here and not have them study."

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame

Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

Quinn closed his eyes for a second and thought as the Beauxbatons students exited. 'That completes the entry of all four champions. The preparations are clear, the stage is set. Time to open the game.'

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"I finally have some free time, Mr. West," said McGonagall, turning to Quinn, who was sitting in front of her inside her office. "We have something to talk about, and you have a lot to answer about."

"Answers to all of your questions, Professor," replied Quinn with a smile.

"Let's talk about what you did in the Great hall yesterday," started McGonagall. "I'm sure that wasn't included in your duties."

"Indeed it wasn't, ma'am," said Quinn as he continued to smile. "But, if Beauxbatons and Durmstrang can show off their magic, Hogwarts should be able to get a chance to represent itself."

"... and you took that responsibility on yourself."

"That I did. Four mascots, four founders, four houses all coming together to create one school binding everyone under one banner. With the time I was given, I came up with a performance that represented Hogwarts as a whole. I think it was nice, don't you?" spoke Quinn, confident and pleased with his work.

"You could've talked with us before you put on that. We were trying to be welcoming, but then you spurred on something much larger than what Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had prepared," sighed McGonagall. "Olympe Maxime and Igor Karkaroff weren't happy with the sudden situation. You have to understand that the Triwizard tournament has been set up to improve international relations."

"Hmm, I can see that happening," nodded Quinn, understanding her point. "... but those two don't matter. What matters are the students. If we have a positive outlook towards each other, then two people won't matter in the long run. Durmstrang and Slytherin bonded together because of their similar ideology, and Ravenclaw students were able to interact with Beauxbatons students with my performance as the topic. It was the fact that our students didn't know about my performance that they felt a true surprise and were able to relate with the foreign students."

He shrugged and summarized his actions in simple words, "All I did was provide an ice-breaker of sorts. One simple step to set off a domino of positivity."

McGonagall seemed to be at a loss for words. She could see sense in Quinn's words. The students were the future, and if they were happy and positively reacting to each other, then the older generation indeed didn't matter in the long run.

"But I see what you're worried about, Professor," said Quinn, gaining her attention. "Professors can have a big impact on the students... Hmm, I guess we can do something to improve their impression of us."

McGonagall felt relieved about Quinn's willingness to work with her. But then she saw a wide smile bloom on Quinn's face, which plunged her heart into sudden caution and suspicion.

"Mr. West... I will be honest with you. I don't like that smile of yours."

Quinn laughed happily at her reaction. "No need to worry about it, Professor. Actually, you will be the happiest about the reason behind my smile."

He took out a folded sheet of paper from his clothes. After unfolding it and eliminating creases with magic, he slid the paper across the tables towards McGonagall. He sat back as the premier Quidditch nut picked the sheet and started to read it.

As McGonagall read it, her eyes widened in surprise. "Mr. - Mr. West… this! Are you sure... are you sure we can do this? Please tell me you have given it thought! It won't be easy... not in our school."

McGonagall was surprised, hopeful, and suspicious because of doubt about Quinn's plans. It didn't look like it would succeed, but if it did... then it would be huge.

"I have thought it through, Professor. I can make it happen," smirked Quinn. "All I require is complete control over the operation. The power and authority to do it my own way and don't have to answer to anyone. I will approach them on my own with no supervision."

"That!" McGonagall hesitated for a good while before nodding. "If you can get results, then I will grant you the permission... but if it fails then..."

"It won't fail, Professor." smiled Quinn, and a deal was set.

He was going to put up a show.

'With this, step one is complete,' thought Quinn grinning inside.

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Quinn West - MC - Planning and plotting.

Minerva McGonagall - Deputy headmistress - If this succeeds... This!

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