A Visitor in the Magical Kingdom
Chapter 10: Q&A
"But Dumbledore, he must have a wand in order to compete," Ludo Bagman exclaimed. They were in the middle of an impromptu meeting discussing the latest surprising twist in an already memorable Tri-Wizard Tournament, despite the fact the challenges hadn't even started yet.
"I agree Ludo. It was merely an oversight which we will correct immediately," Dumbledore replied while shooting Sirius a stern look. The man at least had the decency to look abashed.
"Why do I need a wand if I don't know how to do magic?" Harry whispered to his Godfather.
"Remember we discussed you getting some tutors here at Hogwarts? They will teach you a bit of magic."
"I haven't agreed to that yet," Harry reminded him. "Besides, if the plan is to just wander around for a couple of minutes before retiring, why do I need to use a wand or magic?"
Sirius sighed and took a furtive glance up. Dumbledore and Bagman were still discussing something with the other ministry officials so he chanced a reply. "These challenges are … unpredictable, Harry. That's still our plan, but we want to at least equip you with basic spells in case something goes wrong." Seeing the panicked look in Harry's eyes, he tried to reassure his godson. "Now Dumbledore and I will jump in if we see any danger, but it will take a couple seconds for us to respond.
"Besides," Sirius started, attempting to deflect Harry's thoughts away from the imminent danger he would face, "there's a certain amount of … proper decorum that must be kept. All wizards and witches use a wand so it would look odd to have you march in there without one."
That did the trick, as Harry now looked at his godfather incredulously. "You want me to get a wand for … decorum? Why don't you just give me yours to borrow?"
Sirius' hand instinctively gripped his wand tighter as he fought back the memories of having his original wand snapped then facing the dementors defenseless. "No," he responded in a brittle voice. "It's my wand. You should get your own wand."
After a beat Harry looked up at his godfather with a speculative look. "Not even for your godson? You sure are lousy at sharing."
Sirius glared at Harry. "It's not like that. This wand probably won't work for you. Ollivander says the wand chooses the wizard, meaning my wand works best for me and won't work best for you. You need to find the wand that chooses you; that one will work best when you use it. Well, once you know how to use it, that is."
Harry scrunched up his face trying to understand how that worked. Shouldn't it be like a cricket bat? Sure, someone else's bat may not feel quite as good as your own but you can still use it. Not being able to wrap his mind around it, Harry sighed and rubbed his face again. It sure sounded like a cop-out to him, but the wizarding world was full of weird stuff; for all he knew this was another strange but true fact. With a resigned tone, he replied, "Sure Sirius, whatever. But you're buying it for me."
"Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet," she stated clearly after being called upon. "This is a question for Harry Potter. Harry … where have you been these past 10 years?"
"Uh … don't you mean 13 years?" Sirius asked, having taken up a position by his godson.
"Yes, yes. Whatever," she replied waiving her hand carelessly as if swatting a pesky insect.
"I've been –" Harry started before he suddenly couldn't make a sound. He shot Sirius an astonished look and started pointing to his throat frantically. Sirius seemed not the least bit worried and merely turned his gaze toward Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow in question.
As the Headmaster stowed his wand, he replied in a light, conversational voice, "Now Rita, I'm afraid we don't want to endanger young Harry. Broadcasting his living arrangements to the wizarding world would surely bring about much unwanted attention and pose potential threats to his family's well-being."
"You mean aside from being in this tournament, which will also endanger his well-being?" she countered.
"Yes … that's exactly what I mean."
"If you are so concerned with the safety of this 12 year old –"
"I'm 14," Harry interrupted, startling himself. "How did I get my voice back so quickly?" he asked Sirius, who was stowing his wand as well.
Sirius made a spooky face and wiggled his fingers in the air. "Magic," he whispered.
Harry merely stared back at his godfather, nonplussed. "I think you spent too much time as a dog."
"I repeat," Rita pronounced loudly, gaining the attention back onto her. "If you're so concerned about the safety of this boy," she paused and turned to Harry with a mocking look to see if addressing him like this was okay, "then why didn't you try and stop this, Albus?"
"The goblet is a magical device and creates a binding contract on the life-force of those whose names are chosen. I cannot reverse that even if I wanted to."
Seeing Rita nod in understanding, Harry mumbled to Sirius, "Why does everyone think that's a reasonable answer? You're saying a cup –"
"Goblet," Sirius corrected.
"Whatever. You're saying a goblet is smarter than the lot of you? Who made the goblet? Can't they just reprogram it?"
Sirius stared back at his godson with a blank look. "Re … program?" he started uncertainly.
"So Harry," Rita interrupted. "Did you enter yourself for the fame, the fortune, or for the chance to capture the love of all British witches?" She then winked saucily at Harry before rearranging her face in an innocent schoolgirl look, complete with wide eyes and a finger resting against slightly puckered lips.
"Please don't do that," Harry whispered with a shaky voice and seemed to turn slightly green. Averting his eyes, he noticed Sirius smoothing his goatee and shooting the reporter a roguish grin. Despite being thankful that perhaps the reporter was flirting with Sirius and not himself, Harry still wrinkled his nose in disgust before deciding to study the woodgrain patterns in the tabletop for the remainder of this experience.
"Actually none of the above. I didn't enter and the only reason I'm here today is because I was told I could die if I didn't compete."
"Don't be so modest, Harry. After all, you defeated You-Know-Who. But perhaps you were feeling like the spotlight was starting to dim a bit; it has been a while since that event after all. And maybe … maybe you just needed a new challenge to test your wizarding skills? Is that why you did it, Harry?"
Harry couldn't help but look back at the reporter incredulously. "I. Didn't. Enter." he ground out.
"Perhaps we should move on to questions for the other champions," Albus suggested, hoping to keep Harry's temper in check. After all, he still hadn't agreed to the tutoring sessions.
"Fine," Rita replied, but shot Harry a knowing look. "You there, blondie."
"My name is Fleur," the girl in question replied hotly.
"Yes … So Flower, how does it feel to be pitted against a legend such as Harry Potter, when he clearly has skills so great he doesn't even need to perform magic with a wand?"
Harry could only groan and start banging his head against the table.
After the interviews, McGonagall took Harry back to her classroom where four other students were waiting for them. Each had long, black robes and a different colored scarf, making Harry feel all the more out of place in his 'normal' clothes.
McGonagall closed the door and drew her wand. With a casual flick she caused the desks to all scoot to the sides of the room, leaving six chairs arranged in a circle. Harry could only stare in awe, back and forth between the old woman and the chairs. "How did you do that?" he blurted out.
With a small smile she replied, "That, Mr. Potter, is why you are here right now." She then sat down and gestured that both the students and Harry do the same.
"Alright, let's start with introductions. Hermione, would you go first?"
The girl to the teacher's right had big, frizzy brown hair and a rather nasty-looking scar down her left cheek. She self-consciously pulled some of her hair over her face and looked down into her lap; clearly she didn't like people staring at her appearance.
"I'm Hermione Granger, a fourth year from Gryffindor. I'm a muggle-born; both of my parents are dentists. We live in the Hampstead Garden area of London and I like to read." She said it all so fast Harry wasn't sure she even took a breath.
"Nice to meet you, Hermione," Harry said while extending his hand to the shy girl. Fishing for something to say, he continued, "Erm … that's an interesting name. Are you named after someone?"
"It's from Shakespeare. My parents like literature and named me after a character from A Winter's Tale." She seemed to brighten a bit and chanced a look at Harry's face, so he tried to smile encouragingly back at her. He was dying to ask about the scar but knew he hated it when people asked about his; maybe later they could swap scar stories.
McGonagall nodded, giving Hermione a small pat on her leg before gesturing to the next person. "I'm Daphne Greengrass, a fourth year from Slytherin," the girl said in a monotone, harsh voice. Harry's first thought was that the voice matched the person perfectly; she looked plain and kind of hard, with angular features, muddy brown eyes, and her flat hair hanging limp around her face. This girl was not the picture of beauty.
"I'm a pureblood and my parents work as spell researchers. I like to study and will be the head girl in two years, nine months." Harry noticed Hermione glare slightly at the other girl while the other two students merely rolled their eyes. Obviously she was a popular one amongst her classmates.
"Um … nice to meet you, Daphne." She took Harry's extended hand and attempted to crush every bone while her eyes glinted with a dark pleasure from doing so. Finally wrenching his hand free, Harry made a mental note to never be left alone with the 'psycho, mean girl'.
McGonagall glared at the unrepentant Daphne before the next student spoke up. "I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff. I'm also muggle-born and my father is in the banking industry in Bristol." Justin seemed the most normal so far; not that it was a particularly high bar set by the two girls.
As the boys shook hands he actually asked Harry a question. "So you really are the Harry Potter?"
"I guess. At least that is what everyone tells me."
"And you really defeated You-Know-Who when you were a baby? How did you do it?"
Clearly being in the wizard world made Justin's brain go soft and Harry started to re-evaluate just how much higher he really raised the bar. Harry quirked his eyebrow and replied in a slightly condescending voice, "I was a baby, Justin. I have no idea how it happened."
Thankfully he had the decency to look slightly contrite – perhaps spurred on by another McGonagall glare – before the final student spoke up. "And I'm Terry Boot, a half-blood from Ravenclaw."
"Half-blood?" Harry interrupted. "So you're half human and half …" he let the question linger.
"Explain to me again how this happened?" asked a confused Sirius as he carried Harry down to the Hogwarts gates, trying to avoid the rainbow clown hair sprouting from his godson's head while maintaining a tight grip on his jelly-jinxed legs.
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry muttered, trying his best to look dignified.