Author's Note: Please note that I follow Harry Potter book canon almost exclusively, with only minor forays into the movies, Pottermore, and fanon tropes. This story takes place in what would have been Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, equivalent to season five of NCIS: Los Angeles and, like the previous story in this series, assumes technology concurrent with season five.

As always, all rights in this work are hereby given to the copyright owners of NCIS: Los Angeles and Harry Potter.

Hermione Granger's fourth year at Hogwarts was turning out to be only somewhat less dull than her third year. First year, of course, had seen a troll, a Cerberus, and a professor possessed by the spirit of Voldemort. Harry Potter had returned to the wizarding world that year, and just as abruptly left it again, though this time at least it was with people who cared for him and would give him a real home.

Second year had seen a student also possessed by the spirit of Voldemort. Thankfully, Ginny Weasley had managed to break free of her possession long enough to report to Madam Pomfrey and the professors had taken over from there, destroying the diary that had been the conduit for Voldemort's spirit.

Third year had been surprisingly uneventful, at least as far as Hermione was concerned. Draco Malfoy had had a brief run-in with a hippogriff, but nothing much had come of that.

Now, fourth year brought the return of something called the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione supposed that was exciting enough, at least for those students who would be selected to represent their schools in what sounded like a magical version of the Roman gladiatorial combats, only more dangerous.

For her, though, and likely for the other students, the tournament meant that she'd have to watch the three tasks set before the school champions, but not much else would change.

Ron Weasley, of course, lamented the loss of the Quidditch games - loudly and often. Hermione felt sorry for the seventh-year Quidditch players who wanted to try out to play professionally and now wouldn't have the opportunity to showcase their skill before they graduated, but otherwise didn't care. Quidditch lost whatever little appeal it had had for her when Harry Potter left Hogwarts and therefore wasn't playing for Gryffindor anymore.

The delegations from the other two schools competing in the tournament - Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic - arrived yesterday. Last night, the Goblet of Fire appeared in the Great Hall, and those students who wanted to compete were invited to put their names in the goblet for consideration.

Headmaster Dumbledore had put an Age Line around the goblet, so that only students of age would be considered. Naturally, Hermione thought, Fred and George Weasley - along with a few others - tried to get past the Age Line by using an aging potion, but they had been rebuffed rather forcefully. As though the headmaster hadn't thought of that. Hermione could only shake her head at their naive enthusiasm.

Now, at the Halloween Feast, the Goblet would select the competitors. Hermione tried to look like she was interested as Ron prattled on beside her.

"Be cool to enter, wouldn't it," he said between mouthfuls of food. "A thousand galleons prize money! Too bad Fred and George couldn't figure out how to get past the Age Line. I might've gone for it, myself."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud at that. Ron hadn't applied himself in any of his classes, ever, so for him to think he had a chance in a contest that measured magical ability, intelligence, and courage… well. Hermione knew Ron had a ton of courage - not just because he was sorted into Gryffindor - but she'd never seen him display enough magical ability or intelligence to believe he'd have a chance in the tournament even if he was selected.

Finally, the plates cleared and Dumbledore stood. The room fell almost eerily quiet as he surveyed the assembled students.

"The Goblet is almost ready to make its selections," he said. "When each champion's name is called, please go into the antechamber -" he gestured to the door behind the staff table - "to receive your first instructions."

With that, he drew his wand and made a sweeping gesture with it. All the candles in the room, except those inside the carved pumpkins, went out, leaving the glowing Goblet of Fire the brightest thing in the now semi-darkened room.

The blue-white flames inside the Goblet suddenly flared red. Sparks flew from it, then a tongue of flame leapt up, resolving into a piece of parchment. Most of the students gasped.

Fairly simple magic, Hermione thought. Why are they so impressed by it?

Dumbledore caught the parchment and held it at arm's length so that he could read it by the light of the Goblet's flames, which had faded to blue-white once again.

"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore announced, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprise there!" Ron yelled.

Hermione winced at the volume, not just of Ron's yell but the cheering from the other students. Krum might already be a professional Quidditch player, but that was no reason to fawn all over him. She applauded politely as Krum rose from the Slytherin table to slouch toward Dumbledore and past him into the antechamber.

The hall fell quiet again, and once again the Goblet's flames burned red. Again a piece of parchment flew from it.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore announced, "will be Fleur Delacour."

Hermione looked toward the Ravenclaw table where the Beauxbatons students sat as well and swallowed back a groan when she recognized the student who rose to cross the hall and join Viktor Krum.

As if Ron's Quidditch crush being selected wasn't enough, now his veela crush had been, too. He was going to be insufferable - if only because he wouldn't know who to root for.

The Goblet's flames burned red a third time, and a third piece of parchment flew from it.

"The champion for Hogwarts," Dumbledore read, giving it the same inflection he had for the first two champions, "will be Cedric Diggory."

"No!" Ron said loudly, but Hermione doubted anyone but she heard him over the ruckus that erupted from the Hufflepuff table. She clapped harder and longer for Cedric than she had the other two - school pride counted for something, after all - as he went to the antechamber with the other champions.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as 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 -"

He stopped speaking suddenly, and the reason was obvious, not just to Hermione, but to everyone in the room.

The Goblet's flames burned red a fourth time, and a fourth piece of parchment spat from it.

Dumbledore caught it, turned it so that he could read the name on it, and then just stared at it. While he stared at the parchment, the other students stared at him. Finally, he cleared his throat and read -

"Harry Potter."

This time, there was no applause, no cheering, just a low buzz of confusion. Hermione turned to Ron, intending to ask what he thought could have happened, but Ron's expression made her keep silent.

Ron's face had turned a dark purplish red, and he was scowling - though whether at the Goblet or the parchment Dumbledore still held, Hermione wasn't certain.

"Potter gets everything," Ron snarled, and Hermione flinched from the venom in his tone. But he hadn't been talking to her directly, so she turned away from him and pretended she hadn't heard.

At the staff table, Professor McGonagall was whispering madly to the headmaster, and the headmasters of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, as well as the other organizers of the tournament gathered there, appeared to be completely flummoxed.

It wasn't long before Dumbledore dismissed the students, and Hermione hurried back to her room, retrieved her mobile phone from her trunk, and then to the top of the Astronomy Tower.

The mobile phone was strictly for emergencies, according to her parents, and even if she wasn't sure they'd agree tonight's events were strictly an emergency, Harry deserved to hear about it from a friend before he heard about it from anyone else.

A quick Time Charm told her that it was nearly eight p.m. - which meant it would be noon in California where Harry was, and Hermione frowned. Noon on a Monday was right in the middle of Harry's school day, and his school didn't allow mobile phones in class.

Still, there were other people she could call.

G Callen usually enjoyed stakeouts. He and his partner, Sam Hanna, had worked together long enough that they'd gotten comfortable with each other's quirks and could talk or not, as they chose.

Today, though - today Sam had brought along a Hebrew version of Scrabble - Hebrew being one of two languages they had in common besides English. G didn't bother asking where he'd gotten it, just settled in to play. Five rounds in, though, he noticed a pattern.

"Everything okay at home? Kids doing all right in school?"

"Sure," Sam replied without looking up from his tiles. "Why?"

"Because your last three words were sa-toom, stupid, tembel, idiot, and shovav, someone who makes mischief."

"So? Those were the tiles I got."

Before G could pursue that question, his cell phone rang. He passed the board to Sam and dug the phone from his pocket. It displayed an international number - the U.K., if he remembered the country code correctly. Which meant it was probably one of Harry's friends, though he thought he had all of their numbers in his contacts.

With a frown, he answered. "Callen."

"Mr. Callen?" It was a female voice, definitely English accent. "It's Hermione Granger."

And why didn't he have her number as a contact? Had she gotten a new phone? That answer could wait until he found out, "Something wrong across the Pond?"

"It's about Harry - or rather, what someone's done to Harry."

G straightened in his seat at the mention of his ward's name. "Explain."

"Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament," Hermione said. "Three schools competing, one champion selected for each school. Only a fourth name came out of the Goblet - Harry's."

As always, G appreciated brevity, but one detail demanded explanation. "Goblet?"

"The Goblet of Fire. Students who wanted to compete were given twenty-four hours to enter, then the Goblet made the final selections." She paused. "And unless Harry's in Scotland without telling me …."

"Someone entered for him," G concluded grimly.

"I'm sure the headmaster, or maybe Professor McGonagall, will get in touch, but I thought you should hear from a friend first." She paused again. "Whoever put Harry's name in …."

"Doesn't have motives as pure as the driven snow," G finished. "Right. Thanks for the heads up. I'm sure we'll see you sooner than summer vacation."

G ended the call and looked up to meet Sam's questioning look. He relayed what Hermione had told him, and Sam's expression darkened.

"I read about the Triwizard Tournament," Sam said. "They stopped holding them two hundred years ago. The body count got too high."

Which, G reflected with dark humor, was not the way to convince him to allow Harry to compete, even if he wanted to.

"We'll get Kensi and Deeks to take over here," G said. "I have to tell Harry, and then probably head back to Scotland."

"Not without Nell."

"Or Hetty." G agreed. Nell Jones, his girlfriend and co-guardian of Harry Potter, would not be pleased with this news. Neither would Harry's godmother, Hetty Lange.

"Go," Sam said. "I can keep up surveillance until Kensi and Deeks get here. Just keep me in the loop."

"Thanks, partner." With a moment's focus, G apparated away.