In the moonlit night of a lonely desert, two cloaked silhouettes walked together in silence. The shorter one spoke to the taller one.

"The tournament is this year."

"Indeed." And that was the end of the conversation.

Well, that's not really a foreshadowing, more like a…preamble? Well yeah…anyways, here's the story.

"I can't believe it!! The Triwizard tournament's been reinstated?? Unbelievable!!!" Ron exclaimed to his best friend Dean as they sat at the Gryffindor table.

"That's really great and all, but what is the Triwizard tournament?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"It's this really dangerous competition where you have to complete these tasks and you get scored by this panel of judges, but the thing is, the tournament hasn't been 'participated in' for some fifty year's," said Seamus, the third Gryffindor.

"Well hey, maybe you could sign up," Dean said slyly, elbowing Ron, "Maybe catch the eye of a certain Ravenclaw, ey mate, ey?"

"You heard Dumbledore, 16 years and up and that's it!!" Ron replied, his cheeks tinging red.

"Yeah, well aging potions are already in the works," said Fred, grabbing a scone from the table.

"Just a drop and we're in," George said, taking his own and snatching Ron's schedule,

"Eesh, wouldn't want to be you; double potions with Slytherins and again in Care of Magical Creatures, good luck with that!" George snorted, walking away.

Ron grumbled something about annoying older brothers as he got up and left.

That evening, Dumbledore announced yet another surprising twist to the Triwizard tournament.

"In accordance with the tournament this year, we'll be having 4 specially selected individuals leave our campus for either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons in exchange for 4 from Beauxbatons and 4 from Durmstrang. In other words, an exchange student ah, program will be set up for this occasion for students to gain knowledge of the rest of the world around them. You may apply tomorrow in your Common Room bulletin signup sheet"

The students grasped this information quickly as chatter erupted from the four tables.

"Might I also add for those who did not have the chance to look at their school letters, that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegates are arriving tonight in accordance with the exchange program while the candidates for the tournament will have time to associate with our own student body." The chatter continued at an even more rapid pace.

"Oh c'mon, there might be some cute girls coming," Seamus goaded, trying to get Ron to be a bit more positive.

"Oh yeah right, the only one's that the school's are going to be sending are the brainy bunch, like Granger," Ron scoffed, taking a bite of his muffin, looking at the school clock.

"Damn it, where are those stupid-," He started, but stopped just as quickly when he saw the enormous white horses pulling an even more enormous carriage. The students gasped and did their impressed looks and all that as the carriage of Beauxbatons touched down.

Madame Maxime walked out to greet Dumbledore as her mainly female students trailed out behind her.

Ron immediately zeroed in on a specific blonde no this is not a Ron/Fleur that seemed to garner the attention of every teenage male present. Until the teen male population finally noticed the arm she was attached to. A male arm. A male arm that belonged to a not too large figure but slim nonetheless, with shaggy black hair and intense green eyes that were captivating but colder than ice. Not to mention 'captivated' the majority of the female population. Underneath his left eye was a tattoo that jutted out from his eye with three straight lines. If you looked closely, you could actually see that the lines were actually ancient runic script, that if magnified, could be almost two pages long.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he spotted the… teen male…

"Madame Maxime, I did not realize that you were bringing your… prodigy here… After all, with young Mr. Delacour being a 4th year, the rules state-."

"I know what ze rules state Dumblee-dore, and zat eez why he eez only here to observe and be a part of your exchange student program."

"But of course."

'Mr. Delacour' stood up and straightened his posture. His button-up robe uniform was a lighter shade of the powder blue that the Beauxbatons students wore, and had black embroidering on the white cuffs, collar, and hems.

Severus Snape took one look at Mr. Delacour before he felt his knees begin to tremble. 'It cannot be… It's not possible.'

"…Wow," Dean whispered as the girl walked by, her body having that 'permanent' sexiness attached to it.

"No kidding…I think she might be veela, or at last half by the looks of the rest of our resident male population," Neville said, also staring. Ron had already made up his mind.

"If none of you guys are gonna try for her, I got dibs," Ron said with anxiety.

"Don't be an idiot Ron, she's taken or doesn't want company," Seamus noting the dismissive look the girl had given the lot of them.

"Oh, she will mate, she will," Ron said, a look of disturbing determination overtaking his features. Ginny pushed her way into the 'enclave' of Gryffindors, huffing.

"What are you all looking at? Oooooh…snort. You think you'll get in with the likes of that piece of beauty Ron? GAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!!! You've gotta be kidding me!!!

"What do you know?? Just a little bit of my charm and she's all mine. Besides, I'm Quidditch captain and we haven't lost for 3 years straight!"

"…Uh… isn't that because I've caught the Snitch in every game I've played and you were taken on as Wood's 'protégé', a.k.a., reserve?"

"That's not the point!!! I got my Firebolt, she shouldn't be any harder!!!" A collected sigh was heard amongst his peers.

"WHAT?!"

The Opening feast went without mishap and everyone went to his or her appropriate dorms.

Fleur and the young man she had been latched onto the entire evening left the Great Hall and made their way back to their carriage as eyes were slowly peeled up from their food straight at the couple I'm actually not sure if I'm going to make them a couple, I'm just saying it for now..

"Honestly Fleur, you don't have to be with me everywhere I go," the young man said in French as they walked.

"…Snort. You're kidding, right? You remember that time back when we were 12, visiting Aunt Claire in Paris, where we almost got lost-."

"That was a one-time thing!!"

"Right, and that other time when we were stuck in the catacombs-."

"It could have caved in!!!"

"And when-."

"I get the point!!! Sheesh, you make one excuse, and you get the verbal attack of doom!!"

"Heehee, that's why you're my brother, brother."

"Yeah, only by name."

"… Every time you do that, you get depressed and all… what do the Americans call it? Oh right-."

"Emo, I know… I just-."

"You've told me this over and over… enough… We both know that you know where your mom and dad rest now, and you can probably kick the murderer's ass with your hands and legs chopped off!!"

"…eww… you really didn't have to say that…"

"Sorry…"

"But… well, I just want-."

"STOP!!! Haven't I told you!?!? You don't start looking for the girl of your dreams, you wait for her to come to you!!! It's a Delacour tradition!!! And besides, you're barely 14, so you have all the time in the world!"

"… We have to have 'true love' by 21 or else the curse of the Veela will be on us…"

"That's great, but at the same time, you really don't care either!"

"True…"

"…And I wonder why I even argue with you…" They reached the carriage with their other school members and clambered through the doorway and into a massive park-like complex with glittering fountains and tall white dorm room buildings and a Quidditch pitch with a track underneath it.

The two went up to their dorm rooms and prepared for another day.

The next day, 4 students from Hogwarts had left for their appropriate schools while 4 had come from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.

Alisa Katja and Yelizaveta Katja were the two twin 4th year exchange students from Durmstrang, and were both devilishly beautiful. Unfortunately, all of the Durmstrang boys had a big brother complex, so it wasn't any surprise that not many of the Hogwarts or Beauxbatons boys sent them any wandering glances.

The two were picked for their recent skipping of grades from 2nd to 4th, and an impressive display of potions-work under extreme duress during a year where a grade wide poisoning epidemic caused the potions teacher and many of the 2nd years to go into a state of petrification at random times. The culprit turned out to be a 7th year that was arrested and charged for terrorist activity.

Brian Erwood was a 3rd year exchange student with an American father and French mother, but spent his early years traveling to different countries with his family as his father was a representative for Rogue brooms. Grey Delacour on the other hand, was a prodigy. Not just a typical academic nut hoping to be recognized by the Magical community, but a high ranked professional dueler. Actually, one of the seated nine, to be exact.

Professional international dueling is a competitive sport, and in many cases, a very deadly sport. Basically, it's the Wizarding equivalent to boxing or prize fighting. It is closely monitored by many national governments, but does not have any age limits to obtain a dueling permit. Many children, who are told stories of world-famous duelers, try to apply for a dueling permit, only to find that they must first be tested on a 200-page rulebook. Yeah, not many of them pass.

Duelist rankings begin from apprentice, an entry-level dueler; to standard; a regular dueler; master, a numbered position; and grandmaster, of which there are only nine at a time in the entire world.

Apprentices are… apprenticed to standards and are either judged ready by their standard, or pass auror final exams. Most apprentices pick the auror exams.

Standards can only become masters by applying for a position as a master, and then letting the grandmasters pass judgment over them. So far, the passing rate for them has been barely 50 a year. Worldwide.

Masters are then numbered by their entry into the Masters category. There are nearly 4000 masters, as of now. To move up on the totem, masters must defeat an opponent 10 times in a year, in an official, government-sanctioned and recorded match. For example, number 1923 may fight number 1221 and beat him or her 10 times, and then take his or her place as 1221.

Grandmasters are the top nine masters, simple as that. Though the seated nine are officially recorded, the identities of the nine are only disclosed to the masters.

On that very morning, the Sorting Hat was brought out to sort the exchange students. Alisa and Yelizaveta were sorted into Slytherin with no surprise. Except for the fact that Ron was seething with rage… as to why… we may never know.

Brian was sorted into Hufflepuff, an event of no such… well, not importance, but seriously, he's canon in this fic. I'm not sure about the twins though.

Finally, Grey was sorted. The finely dressed young man walked up to the stool and sat down, preparing his mind for the 'Hogwarts experience'. Placing the hat on his head, he waited for it to begin speaking.

"Ah, the fourth exchange student-but oh my! My boy, I'm afraid that you'll have to let down your mental blocks to allow me to view the true you." Grey complied slowly, but as soon as the hat was inside his barriers, he slammed them shut, right as Dumbledore and Snape were about to sneak in. Unfortunately, the hat's sentience was now locked inside Grey's consciousness for the time being.

"Ah, you make much more sense now! Oh dear… Trials that a boy like yourself should never face. Hm... trials that no one should have to face!!! Already bonded with a familir are you? Gasp!! Harry Potter!!!"

"You are to tell no one of what you have just gleaned from my mind. The heir of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor has spoken, the will of Hogwarts shall be done," Grey said in his mind to the hat.

"Of course… heir of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor." Grey, now revealed as Harry, released the hats sentience back into its proper position.

"Gryffindor!!!" The Gryffindors cheered, patting Grey on the back as he sat down with them. The clock immediately signaled the starting of classes in Grey's first four seconds of sitting.

Classes began that morning as Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville found their seats in their Potions class. With the Slytherins. Again. Making life almost unbearable. Again.

Grey Delacour walked into the Potions classroom and sat in the front row, taking out his Potions kit.

Snape walked in with his dramatic air-flaring robe, slamming the door behind him.

"This year will be a most strenuous one, as this is the year before your OWLS. I do hope that some of you," he said pointedly, causing Ron to grit his teeth, "Will be able to learn some manners and prevent any more bouts of unruliness that has been repeated over... and over again.

"Now," Snape pointed his wand towards the board, "These are the steps and ingredients for a 'simpler' variation of the cheering potion. You will all be testing it yourselves. Any mistakes will result in any one of 434 different types of poison. Begin!!!"

Grey Delacour moved quickly, chopping his roots quickly and evenly. While others struggled to simply get juice out of a sample specimen, he excelled at potion making, as if it was a natural talent. Which it was. He just had different means to an end. I mean, it was like making a sentence to him, just using different verbs and such.

At the end of the class period, Grey Delacour had finished first to the utter dismay of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape.

"Hm," Snape muttered as he looked at the frosty blue surface of the potion, "5 points to Gryffindor for the excellent potion making skills displayed by Beauxbaton's best," he hissed out, sounding like he was choking on a rock.

Class finished abruptly as the students filed into their next class, Defense Against Dark Arts.

"Hey pretty boy! Bet you couldn't resist showing up all the rest of us Hogwarts students," Ron sneered, sidling up to Grey.

"What are you talking about?" Grey said in a quiet, low and yet harmonious voice that seemed to make all the girls in a hearing radius melt in their shoes. Even Hermione Granger's legs were shaking after hearing his voice. Well not really, it was just an exaggeration. I don't think nyone in real life would do that. or could. Well, to my friends, maybe DirEn Grey... but thats a whole other story...

"You, smart one!! Coming here from Beauxbatons, thinking you're better than us and trying to outperform us!!" The walked into the classroom. No teacher was present.

"Bet all you know is your books, ey Frenchie? Couldn't get into Hogwarts, so you spent all your time working at Beauxbatons for a scholarship so you could come here. Look at you, with your 'different robes'. Does all that make you better than everyone else?? Does it??"

"First of all, what you must know is that the Delacours are one of the 5 magical French noble families. My uncle's estate is worth 19.2 billion galleons as of now, so I don't need a scholarship.

"Second of all, these robes are… how shall I say… ambassador robes, and right now, this part of Europe is not being the most hospitable part right now which will allow you to be the downfall of a possible alliance of an organization.

"Third of all, assuming you are done with your rant at me, I shall begin a simple analysis of you.

"You single out a foreigner, using an uncommon and very slightly offensive nickname for my home country, showing symptoms of sadism, sociopath tendencies, and a need to constantly prove your manhood to the rest of your classmates, in other words, pathetic.

"Your height to weight proportioning is irregular, showing cases of high metabolism, a possible heredity occurrence; and irregular eating habits, obviously from your uneven intake of nutrients at random times and the random but common bouts of anger that you have.

"The fact that your face is contorting in obvious red anger shows that you're quick to anger, which means immature mental growth, and that you tend to react quickly to offensive acts towards yourself. Your primary reaction is violence, based on the position you are clenching your wand, and your entire stance. You appear to lack self-control, possibly meaning that you are frequently expressing your emotion in the proximity of some of your family because you feel comfort around them, ultimately leading to your immature need to prove yourself to not only your family, but your housemates that you are the leader and then expressing your leadership through such things as physical violence and singling out the weakest person in a 'herd', so to speak.

"Your robes are frayed at the start of the year, showing irregular unruliness and or inability to master a simple cleaning charm, and if so, the assumption that you have many family members, preventing you from having your family's full attention, leading to you venting your frustration at school where there is a wide gap of separation from your parents, making you feel safe and secure, not to mention the fact that you believe that you are the perfect example of a Hogwart's 'Gryffindor', and that your 'bullying' is merely your duty. Have a pleasant afternoon Mr. Weasley."

Ron seethed with anger as he raised his wand against the turned back of the French boy who had moved into the front and center seat of the room.

"Expelliarmus!!!" Ron yelled, forcing his wand to emit a shock of energy.

"Expelliarmus!!!" said a new, feminine voice at the doorway. The bolt of light from the lady's own wand crashed into Ron's, canceling it out.

"All duels or conflicts of any sort are to be reprimanded by professors Mr. Weasley. 30 points from Gryffindor for that; and besides, you wouldn't want to fight the 'Lord of War', would you? "

Cliffie!!! Lol!!! I wanted to get this story started with a… a bit of a kick, and what better way to start than a cliffie?? And this is my… well, my first story posted, so yeah…

REVIEW!!! YOUR LIFE well, maybe not DEPENDS ON IT!!! OR AT LEAST MINE DOES!!!