"My name came out of the what?" Harry Potter demanded as he stood up from his seat on the other side of his headteacher's desk in shock.

"I'm afraid it's true, Harry," Professor Thunderblast replied, not saying a word about Harry's attitude or his reaction. "Your name came out of the Triwizard's Goblet of Fire."

News of the Triwizard Tournament taking place at Hogwarts after it had been dismissed decades ago for the many deaths had filtered throughout the magical world, worldwide, so Harry knew about the Tournament and its rather gruesome history. Harry, not interested in the workings of his original home country, had just been content to ignore the whole shebang and get on with his life. But his plans had been wrecked when he had been summoned to the headteacher's office.

When Harry had arrived in Australia, he had become a ward of the state and he had been given the education he should have had if his bastard parents had bothered to open their eyes, and he'd gotten mind healers to help him get over the worst of his traumas. While he was a killer, he didn't want it to darken his life and future.

It had even gotten to the point where he was tempted to merely forget his parents and let them get on with their own lives, but this shocking news had ruined those plans.

Now, he was going to Hogwarts. God help him.