"Harry?" Cedric asked, confused as to why the boy was in the antechamber with the rest of the Triwizard Champions. "Do they want us back out there or something?"

Harry shook his head, and moved to lean up against a wall near the door. Fleur Delacour looked like she wanted to approach, but remained rooted next to her Headmistress, an immensely tall woman who made Hagrid look like a child by comparison. Krum remained stoic, but his Headmaster, a pencil-thin man, sneered at him with yellow teeth. A portly blond man was eying him eagerly, tapping his fingertips together in excitement. Next to him stood a gaunt, grey-haired man. He simply looked bored.

A moment later, Dumbledore strode into the room, McGonagall on his heels. She had been the only staff member to remain in the Great Hall.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall cried, "What have you done!?"

Dumbledore raised a hand, signalling for the woman to calm down, which she reluctantly did. He was the next to speak. "Mr. Potter, did you, in any way, attempt to enter this Tournament?"

Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Dumbledore, what is going on?" the French Headmistress asked tensely. Everyone in the room switched their attention to Dumbledore, even the stoic Krum and the bored man.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "The Goblet of Fire has chosen a fourth Champion." He gestured towards Harry, and the shouting started.

"Is this a trick to give Hogwarts a better chance to win!?" the large woman yelled, stepping forward menacingly.

"Hmph. I thought this was supposed to be a fair Tournament, Albus," the yellow-toothed man drawled. He did not look as amused as his tone suggested. Professor Sprout just glared at Harry. As Cedric's Head of House, she likely did not appreciate what looked like an attempt to steal her student's spotlight. Professor McGonagall was staring sternly at him, appalled that he would do something this disgraceful. In fact, the only person not furious with him was Dumbledore. And the other students, but they were simply confused. Professor Moody was staring at him with an unnerving intensity, and Harry had to force himself not to meet the man's gaze.

"This is no trick!" Dumbledore thundered, his magic pouring out of him and pressing down on everyone. The clamor was silenced instantly, replaced by the primal fear of being faced with something much, much more powerful than themselves. "Do you honestly believe I would do something so underhanded? And even if I were to somehow confound the Goblet into choosing another Champion, why would I use a Fourth Year!?" Doubt began appearing on the faces of the other adults in the room, and Dumbledore nodded, satisfied. With that, the pressure faded, and the old man reverted back to the genial grandfather he usually was. The other inhabitants of the antechamber were shaking slightly, but they eventually gathered themselves. "Now, I will turn things over to the Ministry officials."

The blond man stepped forward. "Hello! I am Ludovic Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports! I also played as a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, and was even chosen to play on the English National Quidditch Team! This is my colleague, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation!" He gestured to the gray-haired man standing next to him. "Now, the rules. Since the Goblet of Fire creates magically-binding contracts, none of the Champions- including Mr. Potter- may back out. You must all compete in the challenges, of which there will be one on the first of every month." At the shocked looks from the students, Bagman's smile grew larger. "Yes, that includes tomorrow, the first of November. I suggest you rest well tonight, or you may find yourself performing unsatisfactorily. Merlin knows you'll need as much energy as you can get… Anyways, you four may not receive help from absolutely anyone for anything directly Tournament-related, to reduce the possibility of cheating. However, since you will likely be very busy prepping for the challenges on your own, you will be exempt from classes and your end-of-year exams! Isn't that nice?" When nobody commented, Bagman looked a bit put out, but he regained his cheer quickly. "Well, that's all from me! We'll be doing the Weighing of the Wands now, so if you're ready, Mr. Ollivander?"

The wandmaker entered the room, smiling gently. "Yes, thank you, Ludovic." He turned to the four students. "Well, if you all would show me your wands? I'll simply be making sure they are in working order. Let's start with… Hmm, how about you, Miss Delacour? Ladies first, you know."

Fleur stepped forward, and handed a red-tinged wand to the old man. He turned it over, examining it, before swishing it once to produce a bouquet of flowers from its tip.

"Rosewood, nine and a half inches, with a core of… Veela hair, hmm? Curious, most curious- those tend to be quite picky with who they allow to wield them."

"It is a hair from my grandmother," Fleur stated proudly, and Ollivander nodded.

"Yes, of course. If it is from a family member, then the chances of rejection are lowered drastically. Well, this wand is in working order, Miss Delacour. Thank you. Would you like to go next, Mr. Krum?"

Krum stepped forward, nearly shoving his wand at Ollivander, who simply smiled at the uncaring aggression. "A creation of Gregorovitch, eh? His wands are a bit too stiff for my taste, though there is no denying his skill in his craft. Hornbeam, ten and a quarter inches, with a core of dragonstring." A flick produced a forceful jet of water, which slammed into the far wall before the wandmaker cut it off. "I pronounce this wand in perfect condition. Mr. Diggory, you are next."

Cedric stepped forward, gently handing his wand to the old man, who smiled encouragingly at him. "Ah, one of my own. I remember the day you came to my store, Mr. Diggory; your father was so proud that you would be going to Hogwarts, just like him. Ash, twelve and a quarter inches, unicorn hair core. This particular unicorn was rather stubborn about parting with one of his tail hairs- nearly gored me with his horn! Ah, good times…" A casual wave created a flurry of bubbles, which popped with exaggerated sounds. "You've cared for this wand well, Mr. Diggory. It works fantastically. Now, we finally move onto Mr. Potter."

Harry strode forward, flicking his wrist to empty his holster, then handing the stick to Ollivander. The old man frowned.

"Hmm... " The look on Ollivander's face unsettled many people. "Holly, eleven inches exact, with a phoenix feather core… Mr. Potter, what have you done with this wand? The core is very nearly burned out, and you've had it for only three years! In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if…" Ollivander swiped with the wand, and it produced a torrent of sparks for all of two seconds, before it suddenly stopped. Ollivander sighed. "I was expecting that… I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but this wand will no longer perform magic."

Gasps were heard around the room, none louder than the gaudy, bejeweled spectacle-wearing witch who had followed Ollivander into the room earlier. She seemed more ecstatic than horrified, however. A man holding a camera stood next to her, and a quill and notepad hovered over her shoulder. The feather was moving furiously.

"What exactly does that mean, Mr. Ollivander, that Harry's wand won't perform magic?" she cried, voice layered with sickly sweetness.

"It is fairly self-explanatory, Ms. Skeeter, so I will assume you were asking about the burned-out core. Such an event is very rare, and usually only happens when a wand is used extensively, made to channel massive amounts of magic without much rest. Wand cores can usually heal themselves over time, but they must be given that time, else they will fracture beyond repair, as Mr. Potter's wand has done." There were galleons in Skeeter's eyes, and she eagerly tapped the shoulder of her companion, who seemed rather annoyed. He still moved forward to get a few closeup shots of the dead wand in Ollivander's hand.

"What will this mean for Harry and the Tournament?" Skeeter asked, turning to Bagman this time.

"Mr. Potter will still have to compete, but he will be at a severe disadvantage until he can procure another wand. Unfortunately, since the first task is tomorrow, he does not have the time to do so beforehand." Skeeter looked ready to combust with excitement. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Dumbledore cut her off.

"Well, I believe that the ceremony is complete. Thank you for coming, Garrick. It's always nice to see you."

"Thank you for having me, Albus. I look forward to your next visit, Mr. Potter." With that, the wandmaker left the antechamber.

"Time for pictures!" Skeeter cried, seemingly having forgotten about her previous questions. Harry turned to leave, but a wrinkled hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Come now, my boy- a simple picture will not kill you."

Harry exhaled a bit heavier than normal, but complied with the old man's gentle command. The Champions were lined up, with Krum and Harry being pulled slightly forwards, to emphasize their selection to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.

"Ah, Harry, could you please pull down your scarf and give us a nice, big smile?" Skeeter asked. When Harry made no move to comply, she sighed, and gestured for her colleague to simply take the picture anyways. The four were shuffled around a few times, taking a couple of solo pictures, before Skeeter was finally satisfied. Then, other people with cameras came forward from their positions at the back of the room, and it was their turn to take pictures. The whole ordeal took about a half-hour, and Harry was very close to burning everything near him to ashes. However, the photographers finally announced they were all done, and Harry sighed inaudibly. He turned to leave, but was once more grabbed. This time, it was by the taloned hand of Skeeter.

"Wait, Harry, would you like to say anything regarding your placement in the Tournament, or perhaps the loss of your wand?"

"No."

Skeeter yanked him closer to her, pressing herself up against him. "Are you sure, Harry? We could always have a private interview in a broom closet, you know…" Her minty breath washed against his ear, which twitched a bit at the unexpected stimulation.

Harry scowled, breaking his calm facade for the first time that night, and heated his arm up enough that it burned Skeeter. She leapt back with a yelp, which drew attention from the rest of the room. Harry started walking again, this time with Skeeter trailing after him. She seemed to have learned her lesson about touching him, but that was all.

"Wait, Harry! You owe it to your fans across Britain to answer our questions! Nobody knows anything-!"

The slam of a door cut her off.

The four Champions stood in a tent the next morning, accompanied by Bagman.

"Well, kiddos, this it! The morning of the first task! Excited?" Cedric was the only one to smile at the blond, though that was just because he was the nicest. Krum scowled, Fleur looked bored, and Harry's eyes weren't even open. Bagman wondered if the youngest amongst the group had somehow fallen asleep standing up. He ignored it, though.

"Er, I'm sure the suspense just has you shocked into silence. However, fear no more, because you'll find out soon! You only need to hand over your wands!"

This time, the Champions actually were shocked into silence. Harry was the first to give the man his wand, but that was only because it made no difference whether he had it or not, considering the broken core. Reluctantly, the other teens followed suit. Then, Bagman jauntily skipped out of the tent, leaving a group of stunned young adults in his wake.

"What just…?" Cedric asked, but couldn't even finish his question. Nobody said anything after that until they were called out by one of the Tournament staff.

They were each positioned in front of a white line, equal distances away from each other, and looking up at the massive, stone wall looming over them. Small, colored rocks poked out from the side.

"Welcome, witches and wizards, to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament! Today, we'll be watching our four- yes, four- Champions race to the finish in this obstacle course! For those of you who don't know, an obstacle course is a Muggle invention, which lines up a series of challenges that the participants must work their way past. In addition to that, we've decided to go all the way, and take the wands of the Champions! They'll be doing this like true Muggles, using nothing but their own physical abilities! No brooms, no potions, no enchanted items, just their own muscles."

A portion of the crowd was outraged, but the vast majority seemed quite interested, if their cheering was any indication. Bagman basked in the applause for a moment, before returning to his duty as the announcer.

"We'll be putting up a course-wide Silencing Charm, so that the Champions don't hear what I'm about to say. Wouldn't do for them to actually know what they're getting into, right?" Bagman gestured to a group of people below the stands, who were crouched over a large rune array. They seemed to activate it, because all outside noise suddenly ceased. The only thing Harry could hear was his own breathing, and that of the legitimate Champions.

Harry stood all the way on the right, the rest of the Champions to his left. Fleur, directly next to him, decided to strike up a conversation.

"So, your real name is Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"Why did you say it was Hadrian Black?"

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Yes. You lied to me."

Harry twisted his head so he was looking at her. "Is there something wrong with that?" he asked again, in the same tone. Fleur huffed.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"Why wouldn't I lie to you?"

"Because… It is rude."

"That means nothing. I had no obligation to tell you the truth. If not for the Triwizard Tournament, you would have never seen me again, and then the point would be moot."

"Yes, but the Triwizard Tournament is happening, and you are right in front of me."

"...Fair enough. That doesn't change my reasoning. I had no idea about the Tournament back then, and thus had no reason to expect to ever see you again."

"And yet, I am right in front of you. I would appreciate it if you did not lie to me again."

"Fine. I will not lie to you." Something about his tone made Fleur suspicious- especially the way he turned his face forward when he said it.

"Was that another lie?"

"Perhaps. What will you do about it?"

"This." A wave of energy washed over Harry's mind, repelled by his icy Occlumency shields. The aura was accompanied by a faintly sweet smell, which seemed to also be affecting Cedric and Krum. The Hufflepuff turned to look at Fleur with a dopey grin. Krum simply raised an eyebrow. Harry tilted his head in thought.

"...Are you, perhaps, a Veela?"

Fleur's smirk faded away, and she reigned in the aura. She seemed oddly put-out about something. "Yes, I am. How did you know? Was it my undeniable beauty?" Now she was becoming haughty.

"The aura you give off is the same as the Bulgarian cheerleaders from the World Cup."

Krum stifled a chuckle, but his choking noise caused Fleur to glare at him. He pointedly did not look at her. She turned her glare back on Harry.

"And? So what if I give off the same aura as those bimbos?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His shock was dispersed by a white, glowing number three suddenly appearing in the air. It morphed into a two, and Harry understood that it was a counter.

"I think you should focus on the task," Harry told Fleur, who was rather irate at her question being ignored. However, she did as the emerald-eyed boy suggested, and turned to face forward, crouching slightly so she could get an explosive start. She was at a bit of a disadvantage; Krum was an international-level athlete, so he likely did intense training every day to keep in shape. Cedric and Harry were males, and so naturally developed to be physically superior, at least a little bit. She was hoping that, being three years younger, Harry would be lacking in that department. Unfortunately, considering how he was a good inch or two taller than her, it was unlikely. Even worse, she had no clue about the illegitimate Champion's grasp on wandless magic.

When the counter struck zero, Harry dropped into a crouch, slapping his palm against the packed dirt. Ice spread from the contact point, and covered the area within moments, trapping the feet of the other Champions. They shouted out in surprise and dismay. Harry calmly rose to his full height, and imperiously examined his work. Cedric was gaping at him in shock, Krum was scowling, and Fleur… Looked remarkably unconcerned. Harry figured out why a moment later when her feet began steaming, melting her frosty shackles, and allowing her to move unimpeded, if a bit unsteady due to the now-slick ground. She smirked at him.

"Is that all you have, little boy?" she taunted. Harry raised a single brow. He would've pointed out the height difference, but felt that was a bit too childish.

"Not quite." With a wave of his hand, the ground underneath his feet raised up, a small platform carved out with Transfiguration. A simple Levitation Charm brought him into the air, and he smirked at Fleur's shock- not that she'd see it, since he was wearing a scarf. Manipulation the charm, Harry rose further and further, until he was over the wall, leaving the three legitimate Champions behind.

The first obstacle seemed to be that climbing wall. The second was a long pit of mud, with a balance beam as the only way to cross. However, aside from only being a few inches wide, there was the added difficulty of the guillotine blades swinging back and forth like pendulums, leaving no space to crawl under them. Harry's platform floated off to the side, then made its way across the pit, though it was still well within the bounds of the course.

Obstacle three consisted of monkey bars, which Harry hadn't seen since recess in primary school. Unlike those monkey bars though, which were merely a few feet above the woodchip-covered ground, this set hung over an ominous pit. At the bottom, the pointed tips of metal spikes glinted menacingly. Once more, Harry floated across with little to no effort.

The fourth obstacle was a rope swing, with four ropes tied to anchors that were hammered into the ground. What made this obstacle particularly daunting was the seemingly bottomless hole that awaited the poor soul who lost their grip on the rope. There weren't even deadly spikes waiting to impale someone, just the inky darkness. In a fit of mischievousness (or perhaps cruelty), Harry cast wandless Cutting Charms at the ropes, sending them to hang above the void.

Obstacle five was where it seemed like his strategy had finally outlived its usefulness. There were several bludgers floating in the air over a long stretch of land, ready to crush the bones of whoever they could get to. They were the same brown color as the bludgers used in Hogwarts' Quidditch matches, so Harry assumed they were 5-pounders, but even those could be lethal with the speeds they flew at. Deciding he'd rather not deal with it, Harry discarded his platform, then began Transfiguring a tunnel underground. There was a noticeable drain on his magic reserves, as a result of moving so much earth out of the way, then putting it back in place (just because he wasn't actively interfering with the other Champions didn't mean he'd allow them to profit off his hard work), but not enough to particularly worry him. After all, the course was meant to be done without magic, so they likely hadn't planned anything too difficult. Just to be safe, Harry continued tunneling long past when he estimated the bludger field to have ended, before finally popping up out of the ground, feeling like a mole.

The sixth obstacle was another straight field, though there were holes littering the ground. Harry took a moment to observe, and was grateful that he did. From the openings, gouts of fire spewed like a geyser, reaching nearly ten feet into the air. It was a bit overdramatic, to be honest. Harry stomped on the ground, and inch-thick ice spread across the field, covering the traps. Harry quickly jogged across, not particularly wanting to wait and see how long it took for the flames to melt through his little barrier.

Obstacle number seven was a pool of water, with somewhat small platforms floating on the surface. Under the water were several incredibly odd creatures. They looked like turtles, with their shells and coloring, but they had human-like limbs, albeit with slightly distorted proportions. Their beaked faces stared at him with curiosity, and Harry decided he'd rather not deal with whatever those things were. He stomped his foot once more, freezing the top of the pool, and quickly rushed across. He didn't bother unfreezing it; if any of the other Champions made it here before it melted naturally (which was highly unlikely), they were welcome to use it.

Obstacle eight looked rather similar to the bludger field, but instead of spheres ready to crush skulls, there were pillars sticking up out of the ground, looking rather innocuous. Cautiously, Harry stepped forward, only to throw himself backwards when a pillar that was off to his left zoomed towards him, nearly slamming into him with enough force to send the boy flying. Quickly, he Transfigured the ground beneath him into a foot-thick wall, ready for the pillar to give chase. However, it didn't. Instead, it returned back to where it was, and Harry pieced together the mechanism; the pillars would only attack if you were directly horizontal to them. The lack of mobility was made up for by the sheer speed with which they moved, far outstripping a bludger. However, it wasn't actually that difficult of an obstacle. The only thing that was required was a non-stop bullrush. Even a split-second of hesitation would get you hurt. So, Harry bounced on his toes a few times, bent at the knees, and took off running. He tore past the pillars that were trying so desperately to send him to the hospital- or even the grave, if they got lucky- and only slowed down once he was nearly twenty feet past the obstacle, breathing deeply, though not uncontrollably. He continued on until he reached his next challenge.

The ninth obstacle was a riddle. Specifically, a riddle from a sphinx. With the head of a woman, and the body of a lion, the creature painted a disturbing sight, despite all the things Harry had seen. He maintained a fair distance, because those claws looked rather sharp.

"Greetings, Champion."

"Hello."

"I suppose you will be wanting to pass by me?"

"That is my plan."

"Then, you must answer a riddle. Or, you can refuse, and we will fight. What is your choice?"

"I choose the riddle."

"Fair enough. Know this, however; if you fail to answer correctly, then we will still fight. Are you prepared?"

"Yes."

"Very well. This is my riddle; What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?" Harry was rather lucky he'd once heard this exact riddle in school, before Hogwarts. The chances of him getting it right otherwise were rather low; he wasn't a Ravenclaw.

"Is it the letter m?"

The sphinx nodded, taking a step to the side. "It is, indeed. You may pass, Champion. May you fare well in your future endeavors."

Harry nodded at the demi-human, and jogged past. A minute or two later, Harry crossed the finish line, and sound came back to the world.

"And Harry Potter has finished first!" Bagman shouted.

Unsure what to do, Harry simply stood there for a moment, observing the crowd. Quite a few- mostly Hogwarts students- were making rude hand gestures, jeering and booing him. A few times, he heard the word cheat being tossed around. Eventually, one of the Tournament staff came to collect him, leading him to a medical tent. Inside, Madam Pomfrey was waiting, and she cast a series of diagnostic charms. After a barrage of light- which Harry still could not make sense of- she nodded in satisfaction.

"Well, you seem to be in tip-top shape, Mr. Potter. Good job on not making more work for me." Harry smiled at that, though it was hidden by his scarf. Poppy had a special place in his heart, since she frequently treated his injuries. Definitely not without complaint, but in those moments, Harry was able to imagine what it would be like to have a caring mother. Or perhaps a doting grandmother, considering the Healer's age.

With his medical examination done, he was sat in a chair, and told to wait until the other Champions finished. With nothing to do, he dozed off.

"Now, we'll be showing the scores! They are calculated based on the amount of time a Champion took to complete the course, and for how many mistakes they made. Starting at fifty points, competitors lose five points for every ten minutes it takes them to finish, after the half-hour mark. Then, they lose a further two points for each mistake," Bagman explained. "Now, in fourth place, we have… Well, there isn't actually a fourth place! As difficult as it is to believe, Mr. Cedric Diggory, Ms. Fleur Delacour, and Mr. Victor Krum tied for second place, with an astounding score of ZERO POINTS! Due to Mr. Potter's interference- which was never explicitly stated as against the rules, so he was well within his rights to do as he did, despite how unorthodox and downright dirty his methods were- all three of these aforementioned Champions took so long to finish that they lost all their points! This isn't even accounting for the mistakes each of them made, people! Talk about a stroke of absolutely horrible luck!

Cedric smiled sadly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His robes were stained brown, and one of his sleeves was looking a bit charred. Fleur was scowling at the blond man, put out by how casually he talked about her failings. She looked ready to strangle him, if the curling of her fingers was any clue. Krum was stoic as ever, though the muscles in his jaw were bulging a bit as he clenched it in irritation. All three pointedly did not look at Harry, but he could feel the rage emanating off of them. Fleur was literally steaming, her fiery rage manifesting as actual heat due to her Veela heritage.

"And speaking of Mr. Harry Potter, he has achieved first place! He finished in twenty-eight minutes and fifty seconds, and didn't make a single mistake! Not hard to do, considering he effectively skipped all of the obstacles, but talk about a magnificent showcase of wandless magic! Either way, he leaves the first task with the full fifty points! That's all for today, folks! I'll see you all next month for the second task!"

"Good morning, Griphook."

"Hmph. Wizard."

"I'd like to speak with Nagnok."

The goblin grunted, and walked out from behind his desk. Harry followed, and a few moments later, he was sitting in the same office from over a year ago. Griphook left, muttering things in a language Harry couldn't understand, but he assumed they were derogatory.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. It has been a while. What business do you have?"

"My rings have changed." Harry tugged off his glove (which was Charmed to automatically readjust its size as he put it on), revealing the rings on his left hand. Unlike before, when they only covered from the knuckled to the first joint, they now reached up to the second joint, somehow not impacting his ability to bend his fingers. Nagnok blinked.

"Well, given that you are not yet seventeen years of age, it seems you have somehow become emancipated. Do you have any idea how that may have happened?"

Harry tilted his head in thought. "The rings changed as soon as I was selected to compete in the Triwizard Tournament."

"Ah, yes. The selection was done by the Goblet of Fire, was it not?"

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose that explains it. Those chosen are bound by a magical contract to compete. However, magical contracts only take hold with those recognized by magic itself as an adult. Since you weren't yet recognized in such a way, the Goblet forcefully emancipated you. This has happened a few times before- nothing to worry about. So, what will you do with that information?"

"... At the moment, nothing. I have other things to worry about. Thank you for your time, Nagnok."

"Well, should you change your mind, you may always return. Good day, Lord Potter."

"Ah, Mr. Potter! Congratulations on your emancipation! I suppose you're here for a new wand?"

Harry nodded, not even questioning how Ollivander knew about something that he himself had only found out about today. The old man was even more enigmatic than the Headmaster, and Dumbledore wore those gaudy, multi-colored robes!

"Well, I doubt you'd like to spend hours looking for another match, considering how long it took the first time. Luckily for us, you already have something you can use!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"I didn't expect you to," Ollivander said, waving him off. "Now, why don't you summon the Sword of Gryffindor?"

"...I don't think the Summoning Charm works from that far."

Ollivander sighed. "Not with magic, Mr. Potter- call it through its connection to your blood. Simply think about having it in your hand."

Harry held out his left hand, and thought of holding the intricate, ruby-encrusted, gold hilt. An instant later, he felt the familiar weight in his hand, and was quite surprised.

"Since when could it do that?" Harry asked absently, turning the blade over in his hand like it was a foreign object.

"It always could; one of the enchantments added by the crafters. Now, imagine it in the same shape as your wand."

Harry did so, and was amazed when a completely smooth, eleven-inch-long rod of silver sat in his hand. Surprisingly, it weighed no more than a wooden stick. It was perfectly straight, with none of the knots or dents of a typical wand. It didn't even taper off to a point, like most wands did. It would be more accurate to call it a baton, if anything.

"Will this allow me to do magic?" Harry asked, waving the metal rod around. The movements were a bit shaky, since he typically used his right hand to perform magic. He'd have to adjust one of his hands- either learn to use the sword in his right, or use a wand in his left. He'd rather be able to switch forms in an instant without having to take time to switch hands. He was leaning more towards changing wand hands, because all he did these days was simply flick. It'd been a while since he'd performed the proper wand movement for a spell he wasn't in the process of learning. His aim was going to be atrocious for awhile, though.

"I assume you mean because it has no core?" A nod answered the old man's question. "Yes, it will. As I said, it is linked to your blood, and will be able to draw magic from you. However, without the secondary core to refine the magic, you may find yourself overpowering your spells for quite a while. You will also be able to perform fewer spells than before; one of the advantages of secondary cores is that they can convert natural magic from the air into a spell, which will handle some of the magical cost. Without that second core, spells will draw all their power directly from you, and you alone. Fortunately, since you're young, your core will simply be forced to grow much larger, to compensate. Or, your core will remain the same size, while managing to contain more magic, resulting in higher potency. Or both. It depends on how hard you push yourself- although, if you managed to burn out a phoenix feather core in three years, I don't think that will be much of an issue," Ollivander finished wryly. He seemed a bit contrite about that.

Harry slipped his basilisk-hide wand holster off his right forearm, and latched it onto his left. A few practice flicks assured him that he would be able to adjust to this new arrangement, given time.

"I do believe that is all, Mr. Potter. Good luck with the Tournament!"

Harry nodded at the eccentric wandmaker, and left the shop.

"Harry!" Fleur cried, walking over quickly to catch up with him. He was just finishing up his daily jog, and his usual route happened to take him past the Beauxbatons carriage. Fleur had, coincidentally, just walked out of said carriage, along with a posse of other French girls. They giggled when they saw him, which irked the deepest recesses of his soul. He was lucky he wore his scarf and gloves, even on his jog, just in case of something like this.

"Miss Delacour," he said politely, hoping that the curtness of his greeting and quickening of his pace would make the platinum-blonde understand he did not want to speak.

"Do you have a moment to spare? Me and my friends would like a tour of the castle."

"Unfortunately, I am quite busy." Fleur seemed rather put out at that, and looked about to give up, much to Harry's delight. He didn't have anything against the girl, he'd just rather not talk to strangers, especially not so early in the morning. There were few people he felt comfortable around these days. Unfortunately, Fleur got support from an unlikely source; a silver-haired Third Year. He hadn't noticed her approach until she was right next to them.

"Harry," Luna said airily, sounding oddly like she was trying to scold him, but was failing on the account of her wide smile. It reminded of Petunia and Dudley, a thought which sickened him to his core. Thankfully, though, Luna's expression lacked the sharp edge of scorn that came from the joy the Dursleys took in lecturing him on things that weren't even his fault in the first place. "It's quite rude to lie to people, you know. Especially our friends from over the river."

"Hoh? So, you are lying to me again, Harry? That's the third time in as many meetings." Fleur was more amused than angry. Pity. If she was furious with him, she would be more likely to drop the topic and leave him alone.

Deciding that being distantly polite wasn't going to get him out of here, the emerald-eyed boy turned to rudeness. "They are no friends of mine."

"Well, that's the point of them coming here, isn't it? So that we can all become the best of friends!" Luna replied cheerfully.

"Then, I have no intention of becoming their friends."

Luna twirled in circles, moving until she stood in front of him, then reached up and lightly tapped her palm against his nose. "Very bad! No being mean to the nice French people!"

"What am I, a dog?" Harry rebuked, slightly annoyed.

Luna tilted her head. "No. I suppose you're more of a snake," she said casually, as if that wasn't considered an insult of the highest order in Great Britain. With an aggravated growl, Harry made to walk past the young girl, only to be stopped by her spinning in front of him again, then jabbing a finger in his face. "No running away!"

Harry pulled down his scarf slightly, and leaned forward quickly to grab Luna's finger between his teeth. He applied pressure until she yelped, then let go. She pulled back, wrapping a hand around the digit and stamping her foot on the ground childishly.

"You bit me!" she whined, tears in her eyes, and Harry found himself feeling somewhat guilty. He awkwardly patted the girl on her head.

"Er… Sorry?"

Luna shook her head stubbornly, silver hair waving wildly. "No, sorry isn't good enough! You have to make it up to me!"

"Um… Okay. How?"

"You have to take the nice French people on a tour of the castle!"

Harry gaped at the girl, thankful his mouth was hidden, and that nobody present was tall enough to see down his collar. "...Is there another option?"

Luna tapped the bottom of her chin idly, then grew a sly grin. "I'd accept a kiss! On the mouth, of course!" She emphasized her point by pointing at her puckered lips.

"As you can see, this is the Forbidden Forest. It is home to an acromantula colony, centaurs, unicorns, and whatever the hell Hagrid's been breeding lately. If you'll follow me…"

"Oh, poo!"

Harry sighed tiredly. He was escorting Fleur back to the Beauxbatons carriage. At some point, her entourage had all vanished, claiming exhaustion, or hunger, or some such garbage. Even Luna left, saying she thought she had seen a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

Fleur giggled at his fatigue. "I must remember to thank Luna. You are quite the skilled tour guide, Harry."

"Hm," he grunted, side-eying the girl. "Why did you want a tour in the first place? Especially from me? Are you forgetting how I sabotaged you in the first Task?"

The girl tilted her head from side to side, humming in consideration. "Well, I wanted a tour because I would like to at least know where I am going for the next year. And no, I have not forgotten what you did; I will simply pay you back the next chance I get. I understand why you did it. We are in a competition, after all, and it was not against the rules. I would have been more angry if you had specifically targeted me, but you did not."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You are much more mature about this than I expected."

Fleur smirked. "Did you wish for me to act more indignant and offended? I can, if that is what you want."

Harry waved her off with a gloved hand. "No, I'd actually prefer if you didn't. You didn't answer my last question, though. Why me?" They came to a stop in front of the Beauxbatons carriage, and turned to face each other.

Fleur placed a finger on her cheek thoughtfully. "I'll tell you, but you must promise not to say anything to anyone else."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not like I have many people to tell," he said, slightly bitter. Fleur's expression softened slightly, but she was quickly smiling coyly once more, beckoning for him to lend his ear. Deciding to humor her, Harry leaned to the side, allowing the French girl to cup her hands around his ear.

"I asked you, because I wished to know more about my saviour." Then, before he could even rattle off a snarky comment, the vixen pulled down his scarf and planted a kiss on his cheek. She scampered up the stairs and waved at him slyly. "Have a nice day, Harry. Let's do this again."

The young man was left staring at the door of the carriage for a solid minute, shocked beyond words. Eventually, his brain managed to restart, and he ambled back towards the castle, in need of a nice nap.

"So, Harry-"

"Not one word, Neville."

"What? I just wanted to know if you could help me with this one spell."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Although, how was your date?"

A flood of Stunners slammed into the Longbottom Heir, and he hit the ground, out cold.

Worth it.

"Alright, witches and wizards, I hope you're all ready for the final competitor of the second task, Mr. Harry Potter! And it seems he picked the nastiest of the bunch; the Hungarian Horntail!"

Said beast was currently roaring wildly in the center of the stadium, standing over her nest of eggs, eyes roving in an effort to watch every single one of the people in the stands, ensuring they didn't try and attack. It would have been an amusing sight, to see a dragon spinning around like a top. It was much less funny when he remembered he was going to be facing that dragon right now. It was also fairly sobering once he heard what she was yelling.

"Oath-breakers! Egg-destroyers! KIN-KILLERS!"

Apparently, Parseltongue extended to dragons. He had no clue what she was angry about, and resolved to find out at a later date. Preferably when he wasn't right in front of the angry dragon.

Harry tapped his metal wand against his leg idly, staring at the brown dragon. She finally seemed to notice him, and narrowed in on the human that dared to approach her babies with laser-focus. It was a good thing she was chained, and more interested in standing protectively over her nest, otherwise she'd have simply lunged across the distance and devoured him. Silencing Wards went up over the arena, blocking out the screams of the crowd.

"Should I do this the easy way, or the easy way?" Harry muttered to himself, smirking slightly. There was absolutely no way in any of the pits of hell that he would be getting anywhere near that dragon. So, he flicked his wand, Conjuring a simple linen sheet. Due to his extensive practice with the combination of Summoning, Banishing, and Levitation charms, he was able to easily manipulate the position of the cloth with hardly a thought. The sheet zoomed across the arena, easily bypassing the dragon's attempt to roast it to ashes (though the intense heat of the fire did turn it slightly black at the fringes), and wrapped around the golden egg. Then, Harry Summoned the sheet, Vanished it, and was left with the egg in his arms, all without moving a step.

The dragon roared wordlessly at him, and lunged, only to be held back by the shackles around her legs and neck. The beast leapt again, a strangled noise emerging from her throat when she was choked by her collar. The Horntail made a third attempt- the chains shattered.

For a solid second, the arena was silent. Harry was staring in unmasked shock at the now-free dragon, while said dragon was taking a second to register that she was successful in breaking free. Unfortunately, the winged lizard recovered first, and pounced at Harry, covering the entire distance in a single powerful bound. She landed right in front of Harry, crouching low so that the tip of her snout was level with his face, staring down her elongated face. The massive amber irises held a feral sort of intelligence, that of a being that knew reason, but acted on instinct. An apex predator. Coupled with the apocalyptic rage in the black, slit pupils, and it was no wonder that a bead of sweat ran down Harry's forehead, right down into his eye.

He blinked on reflex, and the mother Horntail seemed to take it as a personal offense, because she reared back, roaring loudly. In the back of her gullet, white-hot flames began to brew, and Harry swore loudly. He tossed the golden egg off to the side haphazardly while leaping backwards, hands flying up, palms brimming with ice magic. Glacier met firestorm, and Harry blacked out.