DISCLAIMER: REFER TO THE FIRST CHAPTER
WARNINGS: REFER TO THE FIRST CHAPTER
NOTES: REFER TO THE FIRST CHAPTER
CHAPTER THREE: WAND-WEIGHING WITHOUT A WAND
Aang woke up to the rapid descending of his previous escort. With an air enhanced power up, he rushed towards the bathroom making use of the available soap and sponge there. He dressed up in his usual monk garb before speedily rushing down the spiral staircase. He picked Momo up from between the two red haired twins much to the annoyance of the duo. He quickly approached Harry but refrained from talking as the lightning scarred boy was talking to a bushy haired girl.
He quickly disapproved at the scarred boy's choice of friends; from what he understood from their rapidly dissolving conversation, the red haired from the previous night was or is still jealous that Harry got chosen as one of the champion; while the bushy haired one tries not to pick a side in the argument which is really stupid in his book. Because although not picking a side is the safest option, she should have knocked some sense into the stupid red haired. Harry doesn't like the fame.
He craned his head to the side to listen to their remaining conversation as they hit a topic that interested him . . .
"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."
"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or -"
"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious. "Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"
"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -"
"Write to Si -" she abruptly stopped herself from uttering Harry's godfather's name.
Harry gave her a confused look to which she answered to a nod that clearly meant 'behind you'. He turned before leveling an annoyed look at the bald kid.
"Why are you following us?" He came out a bit harsh but he couldn't bring himself to apologize as the deed was done.
"Well. . .Dumbly-dorr did say I should follow you last night to your room and since I don't know my way around here, I decided to stick with you." Aang chuckled nervously still unsure if he did the right thing.
Harry gained a sheepish look, "Oh, oh . . . my bad. Sorry about not waking you up early since you don't know the breakfast time." he apologized.
"It's OK, really. I will just walk around. You know! Get a feel of the building." he shrugged off the apology with his hands. He walked back to the room, taking his staff before making his way through the building un-chauffeured.
He walked through long passageways, occasionally getting lost until he exited the building. He walked through the flat expanse of open field and settled down beside a tree where he laid his head against. He didn't know what they did for fun and he has a feeling they won't approve of the mess he will make when he starts practising his bending especially earth-bending.
As he sat there, Momo still perched on his head, negative thoughts began to swim round his mind.
Are his friends okay?
Has 'Sozin's Comet' come?
Has 'Sozin's Comet' gone?
The most troubling being if he will ever go back to his world. Will ever be able to do his duty as the avatar and bring balance to his world. Wil he -
He realized something. A fact he may have missed.
If he could contact his past life, the previous avatar. He may find a way to go home. Maybe a powerful spirit will be able to help him; they are old and probably wise.
He couldn't meditate here out in the open. They will be able to sense his latent power as he will be in a semi-avatar state and he doesn't want anyone to know about that. At least not yet.
He looked around, trying to locate anyone. Luckily, it seemed to him no one was out of the large building reminiscent of the Fire Nation school he attended back in his world as Kuzon. He quickly dropped his staff down by the tree before he ran forward towards the lake - dislodging his partner - and jumped in.
He barely noticed his absent partner as he bent the air around to encompass himself, he created some kind of air bubble so he could breathe.
Down in the lake, he got into his meditative pose; hands tucked in his fist facing each other placed directly on his solar plexus, legs tucked in a crude replica of the letter 'X'.
And out.
And in again.
And . . . A glow emanated from his arrow tattoo bathing the water and its surrounding bodies in an unnatural bright colour.
A wispy image of an old man came out from his body.
"Avatar Roku," Aang greeted his past life.
Avatar Roku nodded his head in greeting and gave the young avatar a smile. It was not long ago that he was called to assist the young air-bender so what was so troubling for him to be called again.
"What's troubling you young Avatar?" asked the older of the two.
"Avatar Roku, are there old and powerful spirits back in the Spirit World?" asked the bald avatar.
He gained a thoughtful look and began scratching his rather long beard, "Yes. Many, the past Avatars included." replied the past avatar.
"I am trapped in another world and I don't know how to leave it. The last thing I remembered was the Lion-Turtle touching my forehead with its finger, now I am stuck as an unwilling fifth champion for something I still don't understand. The 'Sozin's Comet' is in a day the last time I was there. I don't even know if it has gone. What if my friends are captured or worse?" tears flowed freely from his gleaming eyes as he let himself grief in the memories of the people that needed him. He had failed his world twice in a roll.
The eerily looking man stopped stroking his beard as he realized the gravity of the situation. "That's indeed troubling young one, as I have no guidance to offer on this matter. I haven't being in this kind of situation nor heard of anyone partaking in it before. Perhaps, you can journey through the Spirit World, I have heard of this spirit that's being known to perform wonders even among us Avatars . . .
Aang became happy at the possibility of him going home.
" . . . And we are not to be underestimated ourselves in the Spirit realm. I've heard he was able to transverse from his homeland in the Spirit World down to the Human World to be an aid to a ruler when needed. He is said to be able of cross dimension. When you come into the realm, look for Mon -"
He was abruptly cut short as the glow from Aang's tattoo flickered before receding gradually back to its normal colour.
This moment of disruption made him lose focus on the air bubble dispelling it.
He propelled himself out of the water by forcing air downwards in the water body landing gracefully on the hard earth.
He blew air through his wet clothes leaving it devoid of water. He didn't know why and how the connection cut off and although he doesn't have time to ponder on the question seeing as a student came rushing towards him, he will get to the bottom of it.
The kid stopped a feet in front of the last air-bender panting furiously. The kid was around his age and woefully out of shape and he was willing to bet all the Momo's in his world - which is one - that that's how the 'wizards' of this world are. The older ones all have one thing in common . . . Their one large pack abs.
"Mr. Bagman wants you to come and take photograph along with the other champions." said the student still panting albeit at a more sedate pace.
He shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. Turning from the boy, he collected his staff from its previous position and began his brisk walk trailing after the student.
"What's your name?" said the student, starting to speak the moment the both of them entered through the entrance door of the building.
"Um . . . Aang."
"Yeah! Aang, isn't it amazing? You being a champion this young and we all thought Harry Potter was the youngest ever in the history of the 'Triwizard Tournament'."
"Yeah, really amazing," said Aang heavily as they set off toward the place he distinctively remembered as the steps leading to the hall. "What do they want photos for . . . ?"
"Colin Creevey."
"OK. What do they need it for?"
"The Daily Prophet, I think!"
He didn't bother asking what that was. Instead, he became quiet, content in listening only to the tapping of their different footwear and Colin's haggard breathe
"Good luck!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. Aang knocked on the door and entered.
He was in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a woman, probably a witch he had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.
Prince Zuko's look-alike who he waved to and didn't a reply from was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and the silver haired girl were in conversation, looking a good deal happier than Aang had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching her out of the corner of his eye.
Bagman suddenly spotted the just arrived Harry and Aang, got up quickly, and bounded forward.
"Ah, here he is! Champion number four and five! In you come, Harry, Aang, in you come . . . nothing to worry about, it's just the Wand-Weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment -"
"Wand-Weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.
He doesn't have a wand for Kami's sake.
"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."
"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry. Before moving over to Aang. Her eyes widening at the distinctive baldness, tattoos, staff, monk clothing and wet weird animal perched on top of him sneakily dripping water down his clothes.
Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The boy-who-lived, you know . . . to add a bit of color? And after that, I want to talk to the bald one there . . . Guess he is the youngest champion"
"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is - if Harry has no objection?"
"Err -" said Harry.
"Aang?"
He scratched his neck unsure of what to make of the woman. She gives him the creeps.
"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-toned fingers had Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door.
"We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she said. "Let's see...ah, yes, this is nice and cosy."
It was a broom cupboard. Aang laughed silently at Harry's defiant look.
He watched as the lightning-scarred boy was pulled down towards some kind of seat before the Rita Skeeter woman closed the door. He tried talking to the Zuko imitator but the look he received discouraged him. He turned his attention towards the silver haired girl. Maybe, he will get to know her name and possibly become her friend, the thought filling him with joy making him smile as he approached her.
"I'm Aang . . . What's yours?"
She looked indecisive at the request but thankfully answered, "My name iz Fleur Delacour."
Now he was at loss for words. Being near her made him realize how beautiful she really is, at least that's what the voice in his head told him. She is prettier than Katara . . . Katara. Averting his eyes, he walked off, content in resting upon the wall far from Fleur. The shame of think those kind of thoughts about another girl while he liked Katara filled him with shame and a weird sense of longing. If he would have looked back at the foreign girl. He would have noticed the thoughtful look on her pretty face.
He didn't know how he found himself in the bloom cupboard but what he did know was that, before he could blink, he was seated on the bucket. Wasn't he just moping a few minutes ago.
She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into mid-air, so that they could see what they were doing.
"I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally . . . "
"Use a what?" asked Aang.
Rita Skeeter's smile widened. The short time she had met them, she knew immediately they were alike in many more ways than one. She pointed to a long acid-green writing thingy laying harmless on a roll of parchment. She put the tip of the green thingy into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.
"Once again . . . my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter. Yours?"
It was quite a sight for Aang to see the writing thingy writing on its own without any support from the woman. He could make out the title:
Apparent discovery of a mysterious stranger with a mysterious past -
"Aang . . . Aang ma."
"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter before leaning towards the youngest air-bender and said, "So, Aang . . . How did you enter the Triwizard Tournament when you aren't part of either of the three participating school?"
"Err -" said the bald boy, but he was distracted by the thingy. Even though he wasn't speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence:
An abduction by the infamous Dumbledore leaves a young child competing in a barbaric tournament -
"Ignore the quill, Aang," said Rita Skeeter firmly. Reluctantly Aang looked up at her instead of the fascinating quill. He kept imagining the amount of letters he could write to Katara. "ok, and easy one - how did your name come out from the Goblet, Aang?"
"I don't know," said Aang. "I don't know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn't put it in there."
Rita Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow.
"Really? This just made things interesting. Ok, so if you didn't enter your name in it, who did? Our readers love a good mystery."
"I don't know," Aang repeated. "it might be anybody -"
"I asked Harry this question too. So how do you feel about the tasks ahead?" said Rita Skeeter. "Excited? Nervous?"
"I am well . . . yeah, excited, I suppose," said the avatar. He was excited at the possibility of learning something that will actually help me. Even though he misses his world, the Lion-Turtle did say that in the old days, they bended not the energy out but the energy within, so maybe he was sent here to learn a new way to defeat Fire Lord Ozai. Energy-bending.
"Champions have died in the past, haven't they?" said Rita Skeeter briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"
"Death? . . . Surely it isn't that hard? I am sure Bagman and Dumbledore won't have allowed me to contest if it was that dangerous" said Aang.
The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forward as though it were skating.
"Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you?" said Rita Skeeter, watching him closely. "How would you say that's affected you?"
"Err," said Aang, yet again.
"Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because -"
"I didn't enter," said Aang, starting to feel irritated. Did she somehow know his people are dead. Maybe wizards could read your mind, it can be plausible. They did say eyes were the windows to the soul, so from now on, he won't look at anyone in the eyes again - he doesn't want any more of his secrets to be divulge.
"Are your family friends coming to watch you compete?" said Rita Skeeter, talking over him.
"No," said Aang.
"How do you think they'd feel if they knew the Triwizard Tournament will be dangerous? Proud? Worried? Angry?"
Aang was feeling really annoyed now. How on earth was he to know what his friends will feel if they knew the tournament might be dangerous? They were another world away. Not to talk of his family whom hr has never met nor have a clue what they look like, even their name he didn't know. He doubt their name was Wang Fire and Sapphire or something. He could feel Rita Skeeter watching him very intently. Frowning, he avoided her gaze and looked down at words the quill had just written:
Tears fill those haunting grey eyes as our conversation turns to the family and friends that won't be coming to watch him.
"I have NOT got tears in my eyes!" said Aang loudly.
Before Rita Skeeter could say a word, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Aang looked at the person that opened the cupboard in admiration, he was safe from the woman's question. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard.
"Dumbledore!" cried Rita Skeeter delightful at seeing the most powerful wizard alive - although Aang was sure she was fidgeting badly. "How are you?" she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"
"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."
Rita Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed.
"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street -"
"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard."
Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Aang hurried back into the room. The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat down quickly next to Harry, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting - Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Aang saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."
Aang looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. He was a creepy looking old man .
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.
Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.
"Hmm . . . " he said.
He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it chose to his eyes and examined it carefully.
"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches...inflexible...rosewood...and containing...dear me..."
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
Was veela some kind of weird animal? Is she part animal?
"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you . . . "
Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.
"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."
Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.
Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn...must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches...ash...pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition...You treat it regularly?"
"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.
Aang watched Harry look down at his own wand. He could see the finger marks all over it. He watched confused as the lightning scarred boy gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he desisted.
Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."
Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I...however..."
He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.
"Yes...hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees...quite rigid...ten and a quarter inches...Avis!"
The hornbeam wand let off a blast hike a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.
"Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. " . . . Mr. Potter."
Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.
"Ah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.
He brought his eyes over the fifth champion, eyes filled with curiosity and veiled envy. "Your wand Aang."
Aang immediately became nervous. He doesn't use a wand. He voiced his confession much to the shock of the student and some of the present judge. He did remember saying it yesterday.
"yes, I realized that," Ollivander stated. "Although you don't use a foci, you can still use magic. Right?"
Maybe he is mistaking my energy as this 'magic'. OK, he can deal with that.
"Yes. Although my specialty is the elemental attacks." This response got some approval from the judges and more scratchy-scratch from the self-writing pen.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now - or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end -"
Feeling that at last something had gone right today, Aang got up to leave, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"
"Err - yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."
The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, whom Aang would have thought was fine like Zuko was actually the opposite, his face becoming uglier as he sulked at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence with Aang not to far behind. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.
Aang followed Harry down to dinner. Seeing as he hasn't talked to anyone apart from the champions he sat with Harry. He didn't see any vegetables on the rather large table much to his dismay; no wonder these wizards are fat and unfit. He turned towards Harry and whispered, "They don't have vegetables?"
He must have said it out loud because every eye in the Hall were on him. Something shimmered in front of him before revealing itself as the requested vegetable. It scared him so much he jumped high up in the air much to the awe of the student. With a back-flip, he landed gracefully on his previous position. He bowed to the applauding student, receiving a fully stuffed Momo from a girl with a green and silver robe much to the ire of the Gryffindor table. He chanced a glance at Ron and saw the disapproving look sent at him.
He didn't care, anyone that makes Momo happy and feed him is already a friend in his book.
After the dinner, he along with Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower. Up in the dormitory, they came across the jealous red haired.
"You've had an owl," said Ron brusquely the moment they walked in. He was pointing at Harry's pillow. The school barn owl was waiting for him there. "and Aang, don't talk to slimy snakes. Gryffindor house members don't talk to Slytherins." He was about to go when Aang called out to him.
"I have never seen a more jealous friend than you. Do you know I have a friend with no ben-magic, but he was still able to rise above the disability while still being a loyal friend. Even though I was more popular and loved by more, he still didn't become jealous - suddenly hating me because I got something he didn't get but like. He worked hard, and he did it, he became one of the best sword master ever. HE DIDN'T DEPEND ON ME TO MAKE HIM FAMOUS!" he calmed himself down, knowing if he don't, he may do something he will regret. "Try being Harry for a day and I can assure you, you will hate fame. And for the Gryffindor hating Slytherin nonsense, don't give advice on keeping friends when you can't keep yours. You might hate them but I don't, they haven't done anything to warrant my hatred. And For Your Information, I am not even a Gryffindor, I am just a guest and so entitled to stay in any house I want." he carried the now exhausted Momo towards his appointed bed.
"If you like the Slytherins, then you are just as bad as they are. They are death-eaters; he-who-must-not-be-named cohorts" Ron spat venomously to the retreating figure of Aang stopping the bald kid on the spot.
"Do you know that like Harry, I have a destiny that can't make me evil because at the end of it, I AM THE AVATAR, THE EMBODIMENT OF THE PREVIOUS AVATARS, THE BRIDGE BETWEEN THE SPIRIT AND MORTAL WORLD!" he paused, calming himself once more. "if I become evil, the balance will tilt to the dark side and my world will descend into chaos. It will lead to the end of all things mortal, so I can't let myself fall. I don't know anything about this death eaters or this person that can't be named so I don't care. Don't drag me into you inter-house fight. Please." he walked on leaving the two speechless at what they learnt about the new kid.
The one question Harry couldn't help but ask out loud was, "what does he mean by: 'like Harry, I have a destiny that can't make me evil'."
The silence was his answer.
"Oh - right," said Harry.
He then walked straight out of the room, not looking at Harry. . Harry strode over to the barn owl, took the letter off its leg, and unrolled it.
Harry -
I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted - we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?
I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose.
Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.
Sirius.
Ron, although choosing not to answer the Harry's question couldn't help his mind repeating that question even as he struggled to sleep.
What is this kid?
Review!