Truth be told, is it my problem what you think? I tried times and times again to tell you that I'm not J. K. Rowling, now it's up to you...


Knowing everything judges said during their meeting didn't help people in Hogwarts to settle their arguments. In fact, knowing that the case was even more complicated than simple trick to get yourself into competition, made some absurd conspiracy theory to appear, regarding the intentions of the Tournament altogether.

Harry was all for that. The more confusion there was, the more he could do without raising additional questions, playing in the grey of already raised ones. But, surprisingly, it was Ron who asked:

"Aren't you bothered with all of this?"

Harry lifted his gaze from the book he was reading to sweep his gaze over the room. Gryffindor common room was practically buzzing with conspicuous talks that were meant to be private. It only showed that even Gryffindors weren't as united as they seemed to be about the whole thing, as they still entertained gossip and doubt that the school was filled with. And as far as the party in his name that they organised, it seemed that him becoming a champion was just a pretext to have one.

"No," he responded shortly, going back to his book.

Noticing that Ron didn't go away, but sat down instead, staying quiet and waiting for a longer answer, Harry closed his book.

"You see, if anyone would like something from me, it stands to reason that they would simply walk right to me and ask for it, like you just did it," he said, and looked at the room again, "But they don't do that, because they don't want to know me. I mean, they may rationalize it that way, that they want to know more, but they don't really want facts. They want gossip, "the juicy parts", the drama, heartaches, mysteries... In short, they want to entertain themself," here he turned to Ron again, "And I don't really mind it, since it doesn't have anything to do with me. It's their little world that they're imagining with me in the centre. I just hope they don't place the blame on me when I won't be how they imagined it," Harry finished with a shrug.

Ron blinked at the response. He himself thought about why he wasn't affected by Harry becoming the additional champion, since he was angry that Cedric shouldn't be one. He was surprised to find that partially, he was expecting that. He knew somewhere deep down that Harry was famous. Not really like Krum, since they saw each other in every class, but still, Harry was "that guy at school who does all those awesome things nobody else can". That type of a cool guy that everyone knows, but nobody really talks to him. Given that, somewhere deep down Ron would actually be surprised if Harry wasn't involved in the tournament in some, even indirect, way.

But now, hearing that response reminded Ron about all those questions that got stuck in the back of his mind over the years. Questions about Harry and all those normal and somehow unfitting him things he did. He shook his head at the reminder of some incidents, and decided to start slow.

"Harry, do you feel like playing some chess?"


The next day, Harry thought that he wasn't entirely honest while answering Ron. While he didn't mind the stories about him that were circling in the school, sometimes he appreciated them, since they gave him a way to away with something normally considered outrageous, stupid, or plainly insane. Such as...

"Hey, Scarhead" Malfoy said with a sneer while shouldering past with his bodyguards in tow, "Like the campaign we prepared to promote Hogwarts?" at which he puffed his chest, displaying the badge which probably was designed with Dumbledore's dress code in mind, as the words Support Cedric Diggory – The REAL Hogwarts Champion! were written in luminous red letters that hurt the eye even in the broad daylight.

"There's more!" Draco announced proudly while pressing his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one – POTTER STINKS - which glowed green with the same intensity as the one before. "Do you like them?" Malfoy asked with a smirk, as people around them, all wearing similar badges, started to laugh at the joke.

"Oh, I think that promoting real Hogwart's champion is great," Harry responded with a smile, slightly worrying Draco with his calm response, "But I just have to ask, how have you managed to get so vivid colours, I mean- Are you quite alright?" he asked, concerned.

Malfoy wasn't able to respond, since at the very start of Harry's sentence he begun coughing involuntarily, and tears started rolling from his eyes moments later. Similar reaction happened to couple others standing closer than ten feet from Harry.

"What's that stench!" he exclaimed between coughs.

"I think it's coming from that!" someone nearby managed to cough out while pointing at Harry's back, or more likely the thing that was moving right under his robes.

Harry glanced at them all. "I'm sorry, but when you showed me that sign I thought you knew, and that I don't have to hide any more," he said while shrugging his robes off, and revealing a bushy skunk tail.

"Get the hell away from me!" Malfoy, who until this point was doubled to catch a breath, started backing away frantically.

"But I have to explain how this happened," Harry said, but seeing that Draco broke out into a sprint, he begun skipping after him, shouting "Don't run! I just want to talk!" in a voice with a strange, French accent.

They would run all around the courtyard, and whenever Harry and his tail went, more people started to cough and try to run away from him, or more exactly, the stench that even dung-bombs couldn't rival that came with him. Surprisingly, it was only people who wore the badges that were affected, while the rest of the school couldn't stop laughing at the show.

Although, some people didn't have the greatest laugh of their life at what they saw.

"What are you laughing at?" Fleur snapped at a young girl dressed in green and silver Hogwart robes that was standing closest to her. "What is so funny about this?" she demanded while pointing to Harry, who even while skipping, was able to catch up to Malfoy.

"You don't get it?" the girl asked with a smile, but the annoyed huff that she received as a response made her tell all about the Pepe Le Pew - the imaginary romantic that had the misfortune of being born a skunk, which unabled him to find his one true love. That Harry was recreating one of the famous chase scenes came without saying.

"So, you see, it isn't a joke about the French as you probably thought. Harry doesn't do things like that. What he does, is that he takes the jokes that are thrown at him, and twists them so anyone who tried to insult him is the victim of their own ways. He shows them exactly what it would be like if he was the way they tell he is. But he does it in style, showing that he's funnier than they are,"

Hearing what the young girl said made Fleur look at the scene in a new light, and she couldn't help but let her lips curl upwards.

Rose on the other hand shook her head at the French witch, and started wondering how many of Harry's stunts will she have to explain to other people.


Badges were gone as quickly as they had appeared, but Malfoy proved once again that he knew not what learning from ones mistakes was.

"No wonder she spends so much time with him," he started loud enough for everyone gathered in the corridor to hear, "That stench must be reminding her of home," he finished while looking at Hermione standing right next to Harry.

Everyone caught the reference to what happened earlier that day, even Hermione as her cheeks reddened, but Harry stayed calm.

"Hermione, you ever seen the Bouncing Ferret's Show? I heard they're going to make it a regular event, though details are still unknown," he said with a wink, which got a soft chuckle out of her.

"Shut your trap!" Draco shouted from his spot.

"Or else?" Harry asked with a raised brow, which made Malfoy throw him even more hateful glare. Receiving no response, he shrugged, and turned his back to him, going closer to the dungeons door.

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone present, and time seemed to freeze. Harry was too aware of the wand pointed at his back, but he didn't call Magie, as she wouldn't be needed for this one. All he needed to do was to make couple of steps more before Snape, whose shuffling steps were ringing through the silence, for the trap to be set...

"NO!"

Harry's plan went to hell with that simple word, and he whipped around just in time to see Hermione who stepped in front of the spell being hit and thrown into his arms.

"And what is all this shouting about?" said Snape opening the door just in the moment that Harry would have been hit by the curse. Instead, he saw Potter holding the know-it-all protectively, while Draco hastily hid his wand.

"Malfoy attacked Hermione, Professor," Harry said calmly, watching Malfoy, and still not letting go of his friend.

Snape stepped closer, took one glance over Harry's shoulder, and with his lip curled, replied "What do you mean? I see no difference,"

That made Hermione push Harry away, and sprint with her head bowed as fast as she could, before her condition was any harder to hide. Harry meanwhile cast one glance at Snape before he started running after her, but stumbled and crashed into Malfoy, head-butting him.

"Potter!" Snape yelled, "What do you think you're doing!"

"I slipped," Harry replied after getting up from the floor on which Malfoy was still lying, moaning quietly, "I was fortunate that Draco was standing there to catch me,"

"Don't give me that," Snape snapped, looking over the student still on the ground, "You've just attacked him, look what you did," he continued, pointing to the blood gathering on the ground, and Malfoy's nose, which by the sight of it, was most likely broken.

"What do you mean? I see no difference," Harry said without even sparing a glance at his fellow student.

Snape grit his teeth, as he only now realised that Potter once again had him sleep in the bed that he made. On his last meeting with the Board of Governors during which it was decided that he could still teach at the school, Lucious said in no uncertain terms that he could no longer deal judgments that could be clearly seen as biased, and had to opperate in the grey of the situation.

So now he could either punish Potter, risking another meeting with the Governors, or leave him be, which would result in the whimp that just lost his conciousness whining to him everyday about his inaction.

Hist musings were disturbed by the footsteps reverberating through the corridor, and he lifted his gaze to notice Potter walking away.

"And were do you think you're going?"

"After Hermione," he said clearly, and not waiting for Snape's response, "Under school regulations it is required that injured student was escorted-" an angry growl and thumping footsteps assured him without turning that he didn't need to say anything more.

Using his knowledge of Hogwarts hidden passageways made Harry arrive at the Hospital wing just as Madam Pomfrey was going to her office, having finished helping Hermione who sat on one of the beds.

"Don't ever do that again!" Harry started, a little harsher that he intended, which was noticeable by Hermione's startled face.

"I don't- I mean, I didn't-" she stammered, trying to respond, but Harry once again took over.

"You didn't think what you wre doing, thats what you did," he said, a little calmer and gentler, "Have a little trust in me, won't you? You think I would be tempting Malfoy with my back for nothing? Come on, Hermione, you know me better than that. If you didn't interfere I would have Snape himself testify that Malfoy attacked a Lord – you remember that small fact about me? I've been reading books on law in magic community, and there are some punishments for that that are quite amusing," he said with a smirk, "Well, at least for the one who deals them," he added with a wolfish smile.

"Like arranging a Bouncing Ferret's Show?" Hermione asked with a timid smile.

"That could have been arranged," Harry replied with a full blown grin, which disappeared when a tense silence filled the room.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said in the end, in a quiet voice and with her head bowed.

Harry sighed audibly at that. "Okay, scolding done, you could at least show them to me," he said with his usual smile.

Hermione's head snapped up immediately upon hearing that, but even as she tried to ask what was he talking about, Harry's expression changed to one clearly stating, "I don't believe you think I wouldn't notice", which strangely, made her grin – the action that Harry wanted to see. He grabbed her chin and started looking at her perfectly straight teeth.

"You know, as much as I like your smile, I wouldn't mind seeing your teeth more often. Those or the ones you had before," Harry commented, and Hermione's grin faltered a little.

At that statement, Hermione noticed just how close Harry's face was to hers, or how his hand felt on her cheeks, or how his eyes-

They both were startled by a sound of a body hitting the floor, and both turned to see Crabbe and Goyle trying to levitate Malfoy's body again, so that they could place him on the bed. Seeing just how Malfoy looked, both of them had to wonder just how many times have he been dropped. At the initial noise Madam Pomfrey came running out of her office to see who just came in, and imediately begun checking her patient over.

Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused glance, end enjoyed another good laugh at Malfoy's expense before they had to go back to class.


Harry haven't even made it through the doorstep of the class, when he was intercepted by Colin Creevey who said that he was needed upstairs. He just shrugged, turning and once again leaving the dungeon, while Colin explained the situation to Snape who was more than happy being spared looking at Potter for the rest of the class.

When Harry got to the designed classroom, he hadn't even put firmly one foot in the room, when he was assaulted by a woman with her hair 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.

"Ah, Harry Potter, at last we meet. Rita Skeeter from The Daily Prophet," she introduced herself while extending her hand. Strange thing was that she didn't let Harry's hand once they shook. "Seeing as we still have some time, I was wondering if you would like to answer some-"

"No," Harry cut her shortly seeing where the things were heading.

"Oh, don't be like that," she started again, "Surely you would like to say couple of things to your fans-" she was trying, but again being cut off.

"Non," Harry said, and seeing Rita open her mouth, "Nein," she looked slightly confused, but when she again tried to ask a question, "Nyet. Ne. Nem. Nei. Iie," Harry said, then shook his head, ending with waving his hand as a way of declining.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Cedric, who saw the entire exchange, came closer to the two.

"Oh, hey Cedric. I was once told that reporters don't understand the word 'No'," he stated, and at that statement, a soft laugher could be heard. Harry glanced aside and noticed Fluer covering her mouth with her hand as she was watching the scene. She wasn't the only one, as everyone else in the room was watching the exchange.

Harry looked at Skeeter again. "So far she proves that that statement is true," he told Cedric while glancing at his hand which the woman was still holding, unconsciously tugging at it.

Rita noticed this, and immediately let go, loosing for a second her sweet and innocent composure, but when the rest of the judges entered the room a second later, she was all back to her lovely self.

"Ah, we're all here. Good, good, " Dumbledore remarked while entering the room, "Why don't we proceed so that our guest can return to his business," he said while Mr. Olivander stepped inside after the judges, and the doors were closed.

Weighting of the wands went quite quickly. The champion that was called simply handed their wand to Olivander, who would inspect it carefully and do a simple spell with it. Three champions were done in no time at all, but when Harry handed his wand, there was a slight pause, as Olivanders brow wrinkled, and he stared at the wand for quite a while.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Olivander?" Mr. Crouch asked from the judges table.

"Oh, no, it's nothing," Olivander responded, his concentration broken, "I was just thinking of this particular wand – quite a tricky problem to combine the components. I would have to say that it's one of my best. Yet, Mr. Potter here managed to keep it in such a fine condition," he said with a smile, then added, looking straight at Harry with more serious expression. "I could even tell that this wand is just like it had been taken from my shelf,"

Harry didn't quite understand what Olivander was saying, but he knew that it was really important.

"It has been noted that the wand is in fine condition, can we continue?" Mr. Crouch said from his seat, mindless about the silent exchange.

"Yes, of course," Olivander muttered before performing a simple spell with Harry's wand and announcing that it was perfectly suitable for a competition of this kind.

The meeting was said to be over, and after a quick photo session that Rita demanded on, they were free to go. But when Harry was about to leave the room, he was stopped by a soft voice.

"Mr. Potter, could I have a quick word?" Olivander said, still standing in the middle of the room.

"Sure," Harry said with a shrug, but mentally preparing himself for anything.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, stopping at the doorstep, "When you're done in here, please, come to my office. There are some things regarding your participation in the tournament that we still have to discuss. If anything stops you, just stay assured that I love Sherbet Lemons," Albus said with a smile before leaving the room.

Harry wondered at the strange goodbye, but since it was Dumbledore- His musings were stopped by a snap of someone fingers, after which the only thing that Harry could think of was how the world became less. It was a strange feeling, comparable to the sensation when you still have water in your ears after a bath, but not confined to hearing.

"Now no one will interrupt us, Mr. Potter," Olivander said from his spot, "So, please, don't be afraid to tell me exactly how does it feel to use wandless magic,"

Harry stiffened, Magie at once appearing at his side, but the noticed how the man was just standing there, relaxed, and how he didn't ask but simply stated matter-of-factly. Harry looked the man in the eye, and then noticed something else. The man's strange gaze, just like...

"You can do it too?" Harry replied with a question, at which Olivander only smiled.

"I wouldn't go as far, Mr. Potter," he replied in a low voice.

"Then how did you know?" Harry demanded, at which Mr. Olivander smiled a little more, and showed his wand to him.

"There is a lot one can learn about a wizard, simply by examining his wand," the wandmaker said, his voice gaining a mysterious tone, "Here, take it and tell me what you feel," he said while giving Harry his wand back.

Harry took the wand, looked at the simple design, felt the smooth wood under his fingers, and didn't know what the man was talking about. That changed when Magie, feeling his needs, placed her hand over his. Previously smooth surface changed, creases sprouting in a strange pattern. It wasn't like Braille alphabet, but still, they seemed to form...

"A signature," Harry mumbled, and opened his eyes, not even remembering when he had closed them.

"Very good," Olivander nodded in agreement, "But that's just my signature. Usually, you can read not only who made the wand, but also who used it the longest, and what kind of spells did that person prefer. That's why it's so important to suit a person with a proper wand, because the wand knows and remembers, and one cannot use other's wand because the past is always there," he said with his eyes cast off in the distance, but then concentrated on Harry again, "But not with your wand, Mr. Potter. And how can you explain that a student in his fourth year haven't cast a single spell with his wand?" the man asked, and that reminded Harry of the time he met Ragnok, and the confusion his wand brought to the goblins.

"You already said it-"

"Indeed I did," Mr. Olivander commented without interrupting.

"-But you didn't explain how you can use a wand and cast wandlessly at the same time," Harry responded with a statement of his own.

"And why do you keep repeating that I can?" the wand maker asked, clearly interested about the response.

"You have the sight," Harry said, not knowing how to explain it any better.

"I don't quite understand," Olivander said, his brow wrinkled.

"You know," Harry replied, making the wandmaker concentrate on his eyes and when he did, Harry made Magie go away, revealing the slight difference, "the sight,"

"Ah, yes, now I see," the man muttered, only now realising the fact, "But I assure you, that I'm not capable of the things you surely can," he said with a smile, continuing withouth a break, "My hands are but my tools, Mr. Potter. How to make wands is not a closely kept secret because of the profit one can make, but because of the fact that it's the last detailed form of wandless magic that I know of," Olivander announced, making Harry's eyes grow big at the statement.

"First wandmakers quickly discovered that a wand cannot create a wand. It set hierarchy among them – made them behave in strange ways when close to each-other. It's magic beyond anyones understanding, so wandmakers, in the eye of great demand for wands, simply did what they knew best, rather than experiment with their products. Now all we know is that tools are not meant to build tools – only life can bring life. That's why a wandmaker has to work with his hands, breathing the spark of life to the wand by his work, and even as we try to learn, even we, the wandmakers, cannot do much outside of our field," Olivander stopped his sorowful tale, and turned to Harry once again.

"That's the sad truth, Mr. Potter. I'm only a true magician in the confines of my own shop. Everywhere else, I'm limited by my upbringing, and limitations that it cast upon me. I've lived long, long time, and no matter how I try, I cannot learn more of true magic than that in which I was trained. I dreamed of someone to bring back the old ways... And here you are," he finished with a smile.

"Old ways," Harry, to remain free of the shock that Olivander threw at him, grasped something he knew already, "I hear it all the time. When have you heard it and what does it exactly mean?"

"Oh, I can lend you the journals of my great-grandfather. They have quite a few chapters detailing how the world looked like with people like you roaming the world,"

"Haven't you lost couple of 'great' in there?" Harry asked after a quick calculation, "I mean wasn't it approximately some thousand- well, at least eight-hundred years ago?"

The question made Olivander smile. "You will notice that not even developing the gift fully, we manage to live quite a lot longer than even the average wizard. Why, I myself have only hundred and forty three years of age,"

Harry sat down to not fall, as he was staring at the man older than even Dumbledore, but not yet looking older than seventy. He thought about the idea of wandless magicians living longer, or at least healthier, but only now did he understand the scale of things.


AN. Whoah! What the hell was that! I had some more points that I wanted to be in this chapter, but I've noticed that I've writing for the last five hours or so, and I haven't eaten anything all day... Not saying that my eyes begin to hurt.

Seeing as this is a good place to stop, I'm just going to say that you should expect another chapter shortly. Also, since the forum wasn't used at all, it got deleted