Author's Note: Oh finally it is finished! The first part was so easy to write, but the last part was a beast! Kind of like a certain someone, hmm, am I just making more strings and not resolving any? They all will be, I'm just not sure when, we will all find out together what the hell is going on with everyone. =3 Enjoy!


The Weighing Of The Wands

It took Harry an hour and a half before he managed to get into his dormitory that night. To his great relief, he found Ron was lying on his bed in the otherwise empty room, still fully dressed, the other members still in the Common Room celebrating his hollow victory. He looked up indifferently when the Gryffindor Champion slammed the door behind him.

"Where've you been?" Harry asked, striding to his own bed to sit on the edge.

"Oh, hello," the red-head said.

He was grinning, but it was a strained gesture that didn't reach his eyes. Harry suddenly realised he was still wearing the Gryffindor banner that Lee Jordan had wrapped round his shoulders. He quickly took it off but the boy had knotted it tightly round his throat. Ron didn't move and watched as Harry struggled to remove the fabric.

"So…Congratulations," Ron said finally, that grimacing smile still on his face.

"What do you mean congratulations?" Harry asked, frowning at the expression on his friend's face. Something was definitely wrong and the boy wasn't going to tell him what it was.

"Well…No one else got across the Age Line," the Weasley continued with another, incredibly fake, indifferent shrug. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use – the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me across that line, Ron."

"Oh, right," Ron muttered and cast his eyes down as he sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "I thought you might've told me if it was the Cloak…because it would've covered us both, wouldn't it? But you found another way did you?"

This was why his friend was acting like this? Because he thought that Harry had gone behind his back and put his name in without telling him? Harry stood for a moment, unable to speak until the grin Ron was wearing slipped.

"Listen," he said slowly, "I didn't put my name in the Goblet. Someone else must have done it."

Ron raised his eyebrows, and Harry could tell that the red-head didn't believe him. "What would they do that for?"

"I dunno," Harry said, after all, he really didn't want to run around the room screaming that people were trying to kill him. He didn't need to do that. Ron already knew that…Didn't he?

"It's ok, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want anyone else to know, that's fine, but I don't know why you're bothering with all this lying. I mean, you didn't get into any trouble did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all. Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either…"

"I didn't my name in the Goblet, alright, Ron?!" Harry shouted, frowning angrily as he rose to his feet. To his surprise, the red-head did the same, towering over him, his hands balled into fists.

"Yeah, right," Ron said in the same sceptical tone that everyone else had been using all night. "Only you said this morning that you'd have done it last night, when no one was around to see you. I'm not stupid you know."

"Well you're doing a pretty good impression of it! Cedric believes me and he has less reason than you do to! He isn't my best friend!"

The red-head stiffened at that comment and Harry instantly regretted saying Cedric's name. Maybe Ron wasn't as clueless as he thought.

"Oh yeah? Well have you ever thought that maybe he has more reason to believe you than you thought?! Geeze, Harry, I never took you for a Wand-Biter like Pretty-Boy Diggory! Maybe you should be friends with him, you have more in common."

"What?"

Ron snorted and sat back down on his bed, "You heard me. Did you get him to put your name in the Goblet? I bet he would if you asked him nicely enough."

The sneer in his voice set Harry's hairs standing, and his mind was far too clouded for him to think of any kind of response. Cedric was…Gay? No way, he couldn't be. Ron was lying…Oh shit! Ron knew! He knew this would happen! Ron wouldn't want to be his friend anymore because he liked guys! What if he told other people? He'd only just realised himself, he didn't want anyone else knowing!

"You should get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll have to get up early tomorrow for a photocall or something."

The red-head wrenched the hangings of his bed shut, leaving Harry, dazed and confused, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been certain would believe him.


When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, it took him a while to remember why he felt so miserable and worried. It also took him a moment to realise why he was sticky, and the memories of the previous night rolled over him. He sat up and ripped back the curtains of his four-poster bed, checking that it would be ok to venture out from under the covers, intending to talk to Ron, to make him believe him, maybe even beat him senseless with a pillow which was oddly appealing right now. However, he was faced with Ron's empty bed; he had obviously gone down the breakfast without him. The stupid arse.

It was only now that he thought about what Ron had said that the sting came. It hurt. And somehow he knew that this pain was exactly what Ron had wanted him to feel.

Harry dressed and went down the spiral staircase into the Common Room. The moment he appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast broke into applause again. The idea of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest of the Gryffindors, all treating him like some kind of hero; was not appealing. Then came the realisation that the other students would be glaring at him like the anti-Christ. However, it was either that or stay here and allow himself to be cornered by the Creevey brothers, who were both beckoning frantically for him to join them. He walked resolutely to the portrait hole, pushed it open, clambered through, and found himself face to face with Hermione.

"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin, apparently the need to eat out-weighed her S.P.E.W campaigning. "I bought you this…Want to go for a walk?"

"Brilliant idea," Harry said gratefully, letting the portrait shut behind them.

They went downstairs, crossed the Entrance Hall quickly without looking in the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn to the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored. He couldn't help but wonder if the boys from the other school would obliviate Hermione if they found them and decided to drown him. The way he was feeling right now, he wouldn't care if they did.

It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast as Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after he left the Gryffindor table the night before. When he got to what Ron had said in their dormitory, he kept going, Hermione had the right to know and he'd rather be the one to tell her than Ron. To his immense relief, she accepted his story without question, though she went strangely quiet after he admitted his guilty secret.

"Well, of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she said gently before looking at him. "The look on your face when your name was called out was enough to prove that! But the question is, who did put it in? Professor Moody's right, no student would have been about to fool the Goblet or get over -"

"Have you seen Ron this morning?" Harry interrupted, worried that Hermione was avoiding the subject he'd tried to start.

"Erm…Yes…He was at breakfast," she said hesitantly.

"Does he still think I entered my name?"

"Well…no, I don't think so…Not really," Hermione said awkwardly, "But Harry, it was absolutely awful for him to say something like that. We've both had our suspicions for a while…But for him to have said it like that! You being…g-gay has nothing to do with any of this."

"He seemed to think so," Harry muttered bitterly. "Anyway, what was that supposed to mean, not really?"

"Oh, Harry isn't it so obvious?!" Hermione said despairingly, "He's jealous!"

"Jealous?!" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school does he?"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously, "I know you don't ask for it…but – well – you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete with at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous – he's always shunted to the side whenever anyone sees you, and her puts up with it. He never mentions it, but I guess it's just been one time too many that's all…"

"Great," Harry said bitterly, "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to the lot of it…people gawping at my forehead wherever I go…"

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione stated shortly, folding her arms. "Tell him yourself, it's the only way to sort this. Besides, I think that maybe he bought up the whole…Cedric thing because he's jealous that you can admit that to yourself. You know he's not exactly…Blooming with self-esteem. Not with that many brothers, seriously Harry…"

"That's his problem, not mine! 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 when I've broken my neck or lost a leg –"

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious and he couldn't help but feel a little bad. "Harry, I've been thinking – you know what we have to do the moment we get back up to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the –"

"Write to Sirius."

And so started the long and annoying rant that took up most of his day.


The next few days were some of Harry's worst at Hogwarts. The closest he had ever come to feeling like this had been during those months in his second year, when the majority of the school thought he was attacking his fellow students. But Ron had been on his side then, now the boy was avoiding him as viciously as Cedric Diggory was, the boy had gone back to ignoring him after their brief talk the night his name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire. The two boys were causing more grief for him in five days than the Dursley's had in eleven years. He thought that maybe he could cope with the students and Cedric if he had Ron as a friend, but he wasn't going to try and persuade him to talk if he didn't want to. Nevertheless, it was lonely, with dislike pouring in on him from all sides.

He could understand the Hufflepuffs' attitudes, even if he didn't like it; they had their own Champion to support. He expected nothing less than vicious, snide insults from the Slytherins – he was highly unpopular with them and always had been. But he had hoped that the Ravenclaws would find it in their hearts to support him as much as Cedric. He was wrong, however, as most of them seemed to think that he had been desperate to be in the limelight and had tricked the Goblet of Fire into accepting his name.

Then there was the fact that Cedric looked the part of a Champion so completely. He was just a gangly, short fourth year, while Cedric was exceptionally handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair and stunning grey eyes, not to mention the body, though Harry constantly told himself he had never looked. It was hard to say who was receiving more attention these days, Cedric or Viktor. Harry had seen the same sixth-year girls who had been so desperate to get Krum's autograph, begging Cedric to sign their school bags one lunchtime. In all honesty, Harry probably would have been one of them, if he didn't have so much pride and wanted to keep what dignity he had left in one piece.

Meanwhile there was no reply from Sirius, Hedwig was still sulking about him using a different owl, strange prideful bird that she was, Professor Trelawney was predicting his death with even more certainty than usual, and he did so badly at Summoning Charms that Professor Flitwick gave him extra homework.

"It really isn't that difficult," Hermione sighed, "You just weren't concentrating properly –"

"Wonder why that is?" said Harry darkly, as Cedric Diggory walked past, a small smile at Harry confusing him like it did every time, surrounded by simpering girls who all looked at him like he was a particularly large Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Still – Never mind, eh? Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon…"

"You should talk to him, Harry. Whatever is going on between you too is bothering you far too much," Hermione said suddenly, watching Cedric and his stalkers disappear down the hall.

"I've told you, Hermione, if Ron wants to be the biggest twat in Hogwart's history that's his problem…"

"Not Ron! Cedric!" she hissed, looking round anxiously to see if anyone had heard her. Of course no one had.

"Oh…I don't want to."

"Harry, it's obviously –"

"I don't want to talk to him ok, Hermione, now drop it," Harry snapped venomously.

"Oh…Alright. I just…Sorry, Harry."

"Don't be. Sorry, it's just a…delicate subject."


Harry was unsure whether or not he wanted to hug or hex Colin Creevey as they left the Dungeons. On one hand, the boy had gotten him out of Potions and stopped Snape from poisoning him, though the boy would probably faint if he did hug him, and on the other hand, he had announced to the entire class of Slytherins that he was going to have a photoshoot. There was no doubt that he was going to have that rubbed in his face for a good while.

"It's amazing isn't it, Harry?" said Colin excitedly, the younger boy was practically bouncing as he walked. "Isn't it, though? You being Champion and everything!"

"Yeah, it's really amazing," Harry said half-heartedly as they headed up the steps in the Entrance Hall. "What do they want the photo's for, Colin?"

The use of his name sent the boy into further hysterics and it took him a few moments to stop himself hyperventilating. "T-The Daily Prophet, I think!"

"Brilliant," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes, "Just what I need. More publicity."

"Good luck!" Colin squeaked, when they reached the right room. Harry knocked twice 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. Ludo Bagman was in the room and talking to a witch he had never seen before in magenta robes.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual, not talking to anyone. It struck Harry that maybe the older boy didn't speak English…Or he just didn't know how to talk…It was possible. Cedric and Fleur were talking quietly, and the Veela-looking girl looked much happier than Harry had ever seen her. She kept flicking her hair back and batting her eye lashes at the handsome Hufflepuff, and Harry was no expert, but he could tell she was flirting.

Cedric broke off mid-sentence to look round at him and smiled slightly before turning back to Fleur, who was now glaring at Harry for ruining her conversation. Bagman seemed to have spotted Harry and beaming, he gestured for him to join their little group. "Ah, here he is! Champion number four! Nothing to worry about Harry, just the Wand Weighing ceremony, and it will start in a little while –"

"Wand Weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, you know. They're your most important tools in the Tournament." Bagman explained, still beaming. "This is Rita Skeeter, she'll be doing a small piece on the Tournament and the Champions for the Daily Prophet…"

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said the witch with what was meant to be a charming smile, her beady eyes set on Harry.

Before he knew it, Harry had been bundled into a broom cupboard and was being questioned by the vicious woman. She just kept bombarding him with questions and he barely had the chance to think about what he was saying. The quill distracted him for a moment, he had no idea how long he was in the squashed little room for before he got annoyed with the writing on the parchment between them.

"I have NOT got tears in my eyes!" said Harry loudly.

Before Rita could say a word, the door opened suddenly, and Harry looked round, blinking in the bright light to see Albus Dumbledore's face. Cedric stood a little behind, looking in with a mixture of concern and curiosity on his face, though the bronze-haired boy looked away with faintly pink cheeks when he realised Harry had noticed.

"Dumbledore!" cried Rita with fake delight, her clawed fingers holding the clasps of her crocodile-skin bag to her chest. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore politely, his eyes twinkling. "I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita…But I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later on. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot continue if one of our Champions is being held hostage in a broom cupboard."

Harry was very glad to be taken away from the vile woman and fled to the safety of the classroom where everyone was settled, taking a seat behind Cedric.

"May I please introduce Mr Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges table. "He will be checking your wands to ensure they are in good condition before the Tournament."

Harry looked round with a jolt of surprise when he saw an old, short wizard with large pale eyes and white hair standing quietly by the window. Harry had met Mr Ollivander once before – he was the wand-maker in Diagon Alley, the same man who he had bought his wand from over three years ago.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could I have you forward first please?" The old man asked, stepping into the empty portion of the room.

"Of course," Fleur said brightly and swept over to Mr Ollivander, flicking her hair back as she handed him her wand.

"Hmmm…Yes," he said quietly, twirling it in his hand like a baton, "Nine and a half inches…Inflexible…Rosewood I believe…and containing…dear me…"

"An' 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," Fleur stated with a smile. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

Harry sucked in his breath. So Fleur was part Veela. He made a mental note to tell Ron before he remembered that he wasn't actually talking to him. The bastard.

"Yes," Mr Ollivander continued, "yes, I never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for a rather temperamental wand, however, each to his own and if this suits you…"

The old man paused, running his fingers across the surface, checking for any scratches or bumps; then murmured an incantation. A bunch of bright flowers burst from the tip, which he handed to Fleur, who beamed.

"Very well, it is in fine working order…Mr Diggory, you next."

As Fleur glided to her seat, smiling at Cedric as she passed him, Cedric sauntered, or rather Harry accused him of sauntering, to Mr Ollivander.

"Ah, now this is one of mine, isn't it?" said the man when he got his hands on the Hufflepuff's wand. "Yes, I remember it well…Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn…Must have been seventeen hands and nearly speared me with his horn after I plucked it. Twelve and a quarter inches…ash…pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition…Do you treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," Cedric said with a grin, his eyes flickering to Harry who sunk in his chair.

Why did this guy have to be so perfect at everything!? Harry looked down at his own wand, examining the finger marks all over it. Gathering up a fistful of robes, he tried to rub it clean without anyone noticing. Several gold sparks erupted from the tip, Fleur gave him a patronising look and Cedric turned back to Ollivander with a wider grin than before. Blushing, Harry dropped the cloth and looked down at his feet.

Having pronounced Cedric's wand as satisfactory, of course it would be, it was probably perfect like its owner, Mr Ollivander gestured to Viktor Krum. "And yourself next, Mr Krum."

Krum stood and slouched towards the frail man, scowling as he handed over his wand.

"Hmm," Mr Ollivander hummed, turning it over in front of his eyes, "Yes…Hornbeam and dragon heartstring? Rather thicker than one usually sees…quite rigid…ten and a quarter inches…In fine working order…"

Mr Ollivander handed Krum's wand back and turned stiffly to Harry, his eyes twinkling with something akin to excitement. "Which leaves you…Mr Potter…"

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to the old wand-maker. He handed the man his wand.

"Aaah, yes," Mr Ollivander said breathlessly, his eyes gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

The wand-maker took a lot longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's, the fact not going unmissed by Fleur who was now scowling like Krum. 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.

Silently, Harry celebrated like a child, Ollivander had said Cedric's wand was satisfactory, Harry's was perfect. No, the fact that he was playing on words to put him on level with Cedric Diggory did not go unnoticed by him, but it was all he had to work with.

"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, standing up and smiling warmly.

"You may all go back to your lessons now – or perhaps you should go straight down to dinner as they are about to finish –"

"Photos Dumbledore! Photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions. What do you think, Rita."

"Yes…Those first…Then perhaps some individual shots," she said, her eyes on Harry.

Harry couldn't help but wonder what he could have possibly done to fate to deserve this. Fortunately, he was allowed to place himself, and he tried to place himself in the shadow of Madame Maxime, but Rita was having none of it. She tried dragging him to the front, but as he was too tall compared to Fleur, a God-Send in his opinion, he was placed conveniently next to Cedric. The boy was beaming next to him, looking more handsome than ever, however this time when Harry found fingers gently running across his hand, he had enough sense not to jump out of his skin and look accusingly at the older boy.

Instead, some kind of courage took him over and his fingers pressed back, causing the grin on Cedric's face to widen a little more, though his hand jerked firmly from Harry's. The guy was playing with him! He was sure of it! Either that or Cedric suffered from multiple personalities, which he doubted, the boy was far too perfect.

He had just made up his mind to take Hermione's advice and talk to him about it when they were finally freed from Rita Skeeter's taloned hands, but Cedric had already disappeared.

Great. Did the Hufflepuff have any idea what he wanted? That was it, the dragon-hide gloves were off; by Sunday evening he was going to have spoken to Cedric about his behaviour, even if he had to perform a full body locking jinx to do it.