On that fateful Halloween night, Lily and James survived while Voldemort apparently 'marked' Harry Potter as his equal.
Aria Potter, twin sister of the boy-who-lived was proclaimed a squib, abandoned by her family and given to the care of the Dursl...
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Aria had no idea how it happened.
One minute she was standing with the other Triwizard champions, the next she was being yanked by a surprisingly strong grip into what could only be described as the world's tiniest broom closet.
Rita Skeeter, in all her over-the-top, frilly-green-robed glory, stood before her with an admittedly, pretty scary grin.
"Oh, darling," Rita purred, patting Aria's cheek with a heavily ringed hand before she could dodge. "They truly did not lie about your beauty! And at such a young age—"
"Okay—" Aria made move for the door handle but was instantly pulled back and pushed into a seat.
"Testing... Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet." As she spoke, the quill moved across the parchment.
"Yes, excellent," she said before Aria could make out what the quill had actually written.
"So, Aria." Skeeter looked at her with a smile that was caught somewhere between patronizing and predatory. "What made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Uh - I didn't," Aria said. The quill seemed to move much longer than three short words should have taken.
To confirm that observation, the brunette added, "I don't know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I wasn't even in England when that happened."
Yes, the quill was definitely moving longer than it would take to note down Aria's brief response.
"Of course, of course, darling. Now, as I was saying, tell me..." Rita's eyes gleamed. "What's it really like, being forced into this dangerous competition? Has your father tried to pull you out? I can only imagine the drama, the tension! Does he approve of this reckless endeavor?"
Aria sighed, leaning back and knocking her head against a shelf. "My dad— well, I don't know how he feels about it." She huffed bitterly. "Seeing as there is no way to contact him."
Rita realised the girl was talking about her adoptive father Tony Stark, and her eyes practically lit up.
"Ah, yes! The glamorous life of American superheroes—" her voice dipped conspiratorially. "What's it really like, growing up with Tony Stark? Is he as... eccentric at home as he is in public? Does he spoil you? Ignore you? The readers love a tragic backstory."
Aria crossed her arms, unimpressed.
"Oh, come now," Rita grinned, scribbling something down without even waiting for an actual answer. "You can trust me."
"I trust you about as much as trust my uncle Loki when he says 'trust me," Aria shot back, eyeing the enchanted quill suspiciously. "And I'm pretty sure that thing is just writing whatever it wants, isn't it?"
Rita glanced at the quill, which had been dutifully scrawling out: 'Aria Stark, the reluctant champion, trapped in a loveless home, turns to the tournament and her biological family for escape!'
