Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! I'm extremely sorry for the lack of updates, life's been kicking my butt lately. However, we're here now, and that is what matters! Also...
Disclaimer: I have no ownership of HP except for the OCs within this series.
Now, here's...
Chapter 18: Wand Lore 101
Enjoy!
When Marcus returned from his morning workout with Lorelei on Saturday morning, it took him a moment to let the fact that he was a Triwizard Champion sink in, a fact that he was still not happy about. He was hoping to speak to both Harry and Ron when he was done showering and changing into new clothes, the latter of whom he could try convincing his innocence. However, when he did just that, only Harry was in the dormitory - Ron was not there, which left Marcus to believe that he had already gone down to breakfast.
Marcus and Harry decided to go to breakfast together. When Harry had finished getting dressed, they went down the spiral staircase into the common room. The moment they appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast broke into applause again. The prospect of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest of the Gryffindors, all treating him like some sort of hero, made Marcus sick to his stomach; it was that, however, or stay in the common room and allow himself to be cornered by the Creevey brothers, who were both beckoning frantically to both him and Harry to join them. Thinking along the same mindset, Marcus and Harry walked resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found themselves face-to-face with Hermione.
"Hello," she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought you two these...Want to go for a walk?"
"Good idea," said Harry.
"I could sure use it," said Marcus, rather pleased with not having to sit in the Great Hall this morning.
They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Marcus and Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after they had left the Gryffindor table the night before. To their immense relief, Hermione accepted their story without question.
"Well, of course I knew the two of you hadn't entered yourselves," she said they had finished telling her about their scenes in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your faces when Dumbledore read your names! But the question is, who did put them in? Because Moody's right, boys...I don't think any student could have done it...they'd never be able to fool the goblet, or get over Dumbledore's -"
"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.
Hermione hesitated.
"Erm...yes...he was at breakfast," she said.
"Does he still think we entered ourselves?" asked Marcus, already knowing the answer.
"Well...no, I don't think so...not really," said Hermione rather awkwardly.
"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"
"Oh, Marcus, Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"
"Jealous?" Marcus and Harry said increduously. "Jealous of what?" Harry continued to ask. "He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"
"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you two who gets all the attention, and you both know it. I know it's neither your faults," she added quickly, seeing Marcus and Harry opening their mouths furiously. "I know you two don't ask for it...but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friends, and you're both really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you two, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many..."
"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it...People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go..."
"And my snow white hair," Marcus spat with venom in his voice.
"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourselves. It's the only way to sort this out."
"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm.
"I agree," said Marcus, with a bit of anger. "If Ron won't listen to reason, to try and understand that there was no way we could've entered this wretched tournament ourselves, then he can kiss my ass!"
"Maybe he'll believe we're not enjoying ourselves once we've gotten our necks broken or -" Harry started to say.
"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious. "Marcus, Harry, I've been thinking - you two know what we've got to do, don't you guys? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"
"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -" Harry started to respond.
"Write to Sirius. You two have got to tell him what's happened. He asked the both of you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts...It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me -"
"Come off it," said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if we tell him someone's entered us in the Triwizard Tournament -"
"He'd want you two to tell him," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out anyway -"
"How?"
"Harry, think about it," said Marcus, a serious look on his face. "This isn't going to keep quiet. This tournament's famous, and we're famous. It really wouldn't be surprising if there was anything in the Daily Prophet about us competing...We're already in half the books about You-Know-Who and The Dark Prince, you know...and Sirius would rather hear it from us, I know he would."
"Okay, okay, I'll write to him," said Harry, throwing his last piece of toast into the lake. The three of them stood and watched it floating there for a moment, before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle.
"Whose owl am I going to use?" Harry said as they climbed the stairs. "He told me not to use Hedwig again."
"Well, I would let you use Archie," Marcus said, "but I'm already using him, and it wouldn't be smart for Archie to be carrying two letters."
"Ask Ron if you can borrow -" Hermione began to suggest.
"I'm not asking Ron for anything," Harry said flatly.
"Well, borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone can use them," said Hermione.
They went up to the Owlery. Hermione gave Marcus and Harry a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. After that, Hermione started strolling around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Marcus and Harry sat down against a wall and wrote their letters.
Dear Sirius,
Well, I have an update for you, and...well, it's not a good one.
The Triwizard Tournament is happening at Hogwarts and last night, against all odds, I was picked as the actual Hogwarts champion and, if that wasn't enough, Harry was picked as the fourth champion. I'm sure he's going to tell you that. Anyway, neither one of us put our names in for contention, which is really throwing up some red flags. I was hoping to talk to you, try and see if we can make some headway on the matter. I'll be awaiting your reply on this matter. Hope that you and Buckbeak are doing okay. Do not get yourselves caught or, so help me, you will feel my wrath!
-Marcus
Marcus then sealed it up in an envelope, tied it to Archie and said, "Get there a half day before Harry's letter, and I'll give you three times the usual treats."
Upon hearing that, Marcus saw Archie fly up at speeds even he'd hardly seen. It was about a couple minutes after Archie took off that he heard Harry say rather angrily, "First Ron, then you. This isn't my fault."
Marcus looked to see that Hedwig had taken to the rafters outside the reach of Harry, leaving Marcus to believe that Hedwig was mad at Harry, as well.
If Marcus had thought that matter would improve once everyone got used to the idea that him and Harry were champions, the following day showed him how mistaken he was. Him and Harry could no longer avoid the rest of the school once they were back at lessons - and it was clear that the rest of the school, just like the Gryffindors, thought that Marcus and Harry had themselves entered for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they did not seem impressed, at least not with Harry.
The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Marcus had robbed Cedric's chance of being in the Triwizard Tournament, and the fact that Harry was in it with him was nothing more than insult to injury. It didn't help any that Hufflepuff had rarely gotten any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. Ernie Macmillian and Justin Finch-Fletchley, with whom Marcus and Harry normally got along with very well, did not even try to talk to them even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray - though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face. Ron wasn't talking to either Marcus or Harry, as well. Hermione sat between them, making very forced conversation, but though all three answered her normally, Marcus and Harry avoided eye contact with Ron. Marcus even had a sneaking suspicion that Professor Sprout seemed distant with him and Harry - but then, he reasoned, she was Head of Hufflepuff House.
The thing that infuriated Marcus the most was that the majority of the school seemed to think that he was the right choice for Hogwarts Champion, despite the fact that he was too young for it while, as far as Harry was concerned, everyone seemed to think that Harry just couldn't let Marcus have some glory for himself.
Marcus would've been looking foward to seeing Hagrid under normal circumstances, but Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins too - the first time he would come face-to-face with them since becoming champion.
Predictably, Malfoy arrived at Hagrid's cabin with his familiar sneer firmly in place.
"Ah, look, boys, it's the champions," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Marcus and Harry. "Got your autograph books? Better get signatures now, because I doubt they're going to be around much longer...Half the Triwizard champions have died...how long d'you reckon you're going to last, boys? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."
Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student of fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Malfoy completely.
"Take this thing for a walk?" he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"
"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Er - yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Marcus, Harry - you two come here an' help me with this big one..."
Hagrid's real intention, however, was to talk to Marcus and Harry away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to the two boys and said, very seriously, "So - the two of yeh are competin', eh? In the tournament. School champions."
"Unfortunately," Marcus said through gritted teeth.
Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows.
"No idea who put yeh in fer it, boys?"
"You believe we didn't do it, then?" said Harry. Marcus had to contain the rush of gratitude he felt from Hagrid's words.
"'Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you two, an' I believe yeh - an' Dumbledore believes yeh, an' all."
"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry bitterly.
The three of them looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs - but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.
"Look like they're havin' fun, don' they?" Hagrid said happily. Marcus was led to believe that Hagrid was referring to the Blast-Ended Skrewts, because his classmates certainly weren't; every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to shoot foward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.
"Ah, I don't know, boys," Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at them with a worried expression on his face. "School champions...everythin' seems ter happen ter you two, doesn' it?"
Marcus didn't answer. Yes, everything did seem to happen to him and Harry...that was more or less what Hermione said as they had walked around the lake, and that was the reason, according to her, that Ron was no longer talking to them.
The next few days were some of Marcus' worst at Hogwarts. The closest he had ever come to feeling this way was the timeframe of five and seven years old. The feeling of isolation and cold-shouldered manners from almost everyone left him feeling very scared and helpless, and it didn't help that Ron wasn't talking to him right now, though he wasn't going to go out of his way to talk to Ron if Ron didn't want to.
What set Marcus on edge the most was that there were plenty of "supporters" for him - people that sounded genuine, but Marcus could tell that they were just being nice in front of his face, but were really talking bad about him behind his back. Sure, there were genuine supporters, mostly Gryffindors and perhaps a decent amount of Ravenclaws, but the vast majority of Hogwarts were very much felt seperate from Marcus. The only reprisal he had, apart from Harry and Hermione, was Cedric and Lorelei, more so Lorelei than anyone else.
Meanwhile, there was no reply from Sirius, Marcus couldn't go anywhere without feeling isolated, Professor Trewlawney started to predict Marcus' death with unusual certainty (something she never did before), and he only managed to get the hang of the Summoning Charm in Professor Flitwick's class at the smack end of it when he would usually get it halfway through.
"It's really not that difficult, Harry," Hermione tried to reassure Harry as they left Flitwick's class - while she had been making objects zoom across the room to her all lesson, as though she were some sort of weird magnet for board dusters, wastepaper baskets, and lunascopes, Harry managed to receive extra homework from Professor Flitwick, the only one to do so apart from Neville. "You just weren't concentrating properly -"
"Wonder why that was," said Harry darkly as he was watching Marcus avoid some fangirls that wanted his autograph.
"Hey, it's not like I'm asking them to come to me," said Marcus very irritably.
"Hey, don't worry about it," said Harry. "Still, there's Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon..."
Marcus knew he was being heavily sarcastic, as Potions these days were nothing short of torturous. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Marcus and Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champions, was about the most unpleasant thing Marcus had to think of in a long time. Him and Harry had already struggled through one Friday's worth, with Hermione sitting next to both of them intoning "ignore them, ignore them, ignore them" under her breath, and Marcus couldn't see how today was going to fare any better.
When the three of them arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one crazy second, Marcus thought they were wearing S.P.E.W. badges - then he saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:
SUPPORT MARCUS WILLIAMS-
THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION
"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly as they approached. "Better the blood-traitor than the likes of you, I say! And this isn't all they do - look!"
He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:
POTTER STINKS
The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. Marcus was starting to reach his breaking point.
"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really witty."
Marcus saw Ron standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either.
"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."
Marcus, in the span on a second, summoned his wand, pointed it just ever so slightly to his right of Malfoy, and shouted in anger, "Stupefy!"
The red jet of light soared at Malfoy, barely missing the pale boy's left cheek, and immediately people scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.
"The next one will hit right on target, Malfoy, so shut your mouth if you know what's good for you!" exclaimed Marcus.
He then, suddenly, felt Harry brushing against him, getting in front of him, his wand out, saying, "No, Marcus, he's mine!"
"Boys!" Hermione said warningly.
"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts -"
For a split second, Marcus saw the two boys looking into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.
"Furnunculus!" Harry yelled.
"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.
Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles - Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's was gunning straight for Marcus. Instinctively, Marcus put up his right forearm to deflect the spell and, when it did, it collided straight into Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.
"Hermione!"
Ron had hurried foward to see what was wrong with her; Marcus turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin - panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.
Horrified and feeling greatly responsible, Marcus started going towards Hermione and started to say, "Hermione, I'm -"
"Piss off, Williams!" Ron roared, extending his right hand out in front of Marcus, keeping him back. "Haven't you done enough?!"
"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.
Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."
"Potter attacked me, sir -"
"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.
"-and he hit Goyle - look -"
Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.
"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.
"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"
He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth - she was doing her best to hide them with her minds, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.
Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."
Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.
Marcus was a quarter of a second away from physically beating the shit out of Snape when both Harry and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time. It was lucky that they did, for their combined voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confusion, it was impossible for Snape to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.
"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."
Marcus was still feeling absolutely livid. The injustice of it still made him want to beat the everliving shit out of Snape. He passed Snape quickly, walked to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. He saw Harry quickly following suit and then he saw Ron approaching. He saw Ron shaking with anger too - for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry and Marcus by themselves at the table. On the other side of the dungeon, Marcus could see Malfoy turning his back on Snape and pressing his badge, smirking, POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room.
Marcus sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him...he knew the Cruciatus Curse well enough...all it would take was thirty seconds, and he would have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching...
"Antidotes!" said Snape, looking around at them all, his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one..."
Marcus noticed Snape's eyes meeting Harry's, and Marcus knew that Snape was going to try and get Harry poisoned. Marcus thought that, surely, no one would notice a few seconds of him torturing Snape...
And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on Marcus' thoughts.
It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at Harry and Marcus, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.
"Yes?" said Snape curtly.
"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter and Marcus Williams upstairs."
Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.
"Potter and Williams have another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "They will come upstairs when this class is finished."
Colin went pink.
"Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants them," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs..."
Marcus, wishing he could give everything he had to prevent Colin saying those last few words, facepalmed himself, effectively hiding his increasingly reddening face from the rest of the class.
"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, Williams, leave your things here. I want you two back down here later to test your antidotes."
"Please, sir - they've got to take their things with them," squeaked Colin. "All the champions -
"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter, Williams - take your bags and get out of my sight!"
Marcus and Harry swung their bags over their shoulders, got up, and headed for the door. As they walked through the Slytherin desks, POTTER STINKS flashed at Harry from every direction.
"It's amazing, isn't it, Marcus, Harry?" said Colin, staring to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind him. "Isn't it, though? You two being champions?"
"Yeah, what are the odds?" Marcus deadpanned as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall.
"What do they want photos for, Colin?" asked Harry.
"The Daily Prophet, I think!"
"Great," said Harry dully, looking at Marcus. "Exactly what we need."
"Ugh, more publicity," said Marcus. "Can this day get any worse?"
"Good luck, guys!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. Marcus knocked on the door and the two boys entered.
They were in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Marcus had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.
Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Fleur and Madame Maxime were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than the last time Marcus saw her; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.
Bagman suddenly spotted Marcus and Harry, got up quickly, and bounced forward.
"Ah, here they are! Champions number three and four! In you come, boys, in you come...nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment -"
"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.
"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta for the Daily Prophet..."
"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Marcus and Harry.
Upon hearing the name to the witch in magenta, Marcus thought, "Oh, crap, you've got to be kidding me!"
Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocidile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Marcus and Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing at the boys. "The youngest champions, you know...to add a bit of color?"
"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is - if Marcus and Harry have no objections?"
"Actually -" Marcus began.
"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry's upper arm in what looked to be a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again, but not before she turned back to look at Marcus and said, "Don't go anywhere now, young Marcus, because you're next."
She gave a wink at him, which sent a shiver up his spine, before she closed the door behind her.
From behind him, he heard Fleur say, "Hello again, Mar-kees!"
He looked to see Fleur standing not two feet behind him, with a great smile on her face, which seemed to somehow make his stomach float like butterflies.
"Hello, Fleur," said Marcus, smirking greatly.
They then spent the next few minutes talking and getting to know each other better before Dumbledore came into the room.
"I would like for the champions to please take their seats as we begin the wand weighing ceremony," said Dumbledore, who looked around and, upon not seeing Harry said, "Where is Mr. Potter?"
"Harry's most likely in that broom closet with Rita Skeeter," said Marcus, pointing outside the room.
"Thank you, Marcus," said Dumbledore with a smile and a twinkle to his eye. "If you would please."
Gesturing to the seat, Marcus ensured that he sat on one end, leaving room for Harry to sit next to him on top of making sure he didn't sit next to Krum, who was giving him another death stare.
In no time at all, Marcus saw Harry hurrying into the room and into the seat that Marcus saved for him. After he took his seat, Marcus looked up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting - Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Marcus saw her slip some parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of what Marcus recognized as a Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it on the parchment.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."
Marcus looked around and was greatly surprised to find an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Marcus had only met Mr. Ollivander once before, and that was when he was with Harry, who bought his wand from him over three years ago in Diagon Alley.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.
Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.
"Hmmm..." he said.
He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.
"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches...inflexible...rosewood...and containing...dear me..."
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
Marcus looked at her with shock. Fleur was one-quarter veela?! He wondered to himself how that tidbit of information hadn't come up once in any of their conversations.
"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course, I find it makes for rather tempermental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you..."
Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Avis!"
The rosewood wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.
"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, who moved to Krum and said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."
Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I...however..."
He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.
"Yes...hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded.
Marcus then noticed Harry serritipiously rubbing his wand, no doubt to try and give a last minute shine job. However, he ended up shooting out several gold sparks out of the end of it, earning a very patronizing look from Fleur, which made Harry cease and desist.
"Rather thicker than one usually sees," stated Mr. Ollivander. "Quite rigid...ten and a quarter inches..."
He then caused a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Krum's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Potter, if you would."
Harry then got to his feet, walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander, and handed over his wand.
"Aaaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Marcus felt a little nervous, as his turn was soon coming. He remembered having been given a promise by Mr. Ollivander himself, and today, he was going to try and see if he could make good on that promise.
Mr. Ollivander spend much longer examining Harry's wand than the previous two. 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.
"Which leaves," said Mr. Ollivander, "Young Mr. Williams."
Marcus summoned his wand before he got up, walked towards Mr. Ollivander, stopping himself two feet in front of the old wizard, and gave him his wand.
"Ah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander with a bit of glee in his voice. "I have not forgotten this wand since it appeared in my shop just over three years ago. How I longed to see it once again, to hold it once more."
"Mr. Ollivander," said Marcus softly, "You said that, when I was older, you would tell me more about my wand."
"That I did," said Mr. Ollivander, who suddenly looked sad. "And I was hoping to wait a bit longer before I told you, but now seems as good as time as any."
He spent what felt like forever, examining every inch of his wand, eagerly awaiting for him to speak.
Finally, Mr. Ollivander said in a soft voice, "Twelve inches...stalwart, yet absurdly stubborn...blood-stained American Redwood...threstral hair..."
He then looked up just enough to look Marcus in the eyes and said, in that same soft voice, "This is the Blood Wand, Marcus Williams."
Marcus immediately felt the air around him become intense. He glanced around the room to find everyone, except for Harry, looking at him with shock and awe.
Marcus then looked back at Mr. Ollivander, saying, "The Blood Wand?"
"This wand is significant in that it is one of the few wands in all of the Wizarding World that has threstral hair as the core, young Mr. Williams," Mr. Ollivander explained. "Now, this particular wand has a rather violent past that I'm afraid you're not ready to hear. However, I will tell you that American Redwood is not used to make wands anymore because the wood made wands infamous for never choosing a witch or wizard unless every condition of theirs was met. If they did choose a witch or wizard, they will remain forever loyal to that person, making them unable to disarm and leaving no one else able to cast the wand."
Mr. Ollivander then gave the wand back to Marcus, took a few steps back, and said, "Now, Mr. Williams, perhaps you could cast a spell, to ensure that it is in working order."
Marcus, gripping his wand, pointed to the ceiling and said, "Orchideous!"
The flowers that burst forth from Marcus' wand flew into the air and Marcus then said, "Colligat!"
The flowers then proceeded to come to Marcus' free arm, gathering themselves in the likeness of a bouquet.
Lastly, Marcus said, "Conficio!"
The bouquet was was then wrapped with a thin sheet of floral paper, to which Marcus walked over to Fleur, handed her the bouquet and said in a shy voice, "Um, for you, Ms. Delacour."
A smile akin to shining diamonds shone on her face, blushing as she took the bouquet.
Feeling himself blush, Marcus quickly turned to Mr. Ollivander, who announced that Marcus' wand was in perfect working order.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lesson now - or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end -"
Feeling that at last something had gone right today, Marcus started making his way to the door, but hadn't gone a few paces when the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"
"Er - yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Marcus and Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."
The photographs took a long time, much to Marcus' great displeasure. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, who Marcus thought for sure would be used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying foward and dragging Marcus and Harry into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.
Marcus and Harry went down to dinner together. Hermione wasn't there - they supposed she was still in the hospital wing having her teeth fixed. They ate alone at the end of the table, then returned to Gryffindor Tower, with Marcus thinking about tonight's training session with Lorelei and Cedric. Up in the dormitory, they came across Ron.
"You two have owls," said Ron brusquely the moment they walked in. He was pointing at their respective pillows. Archie was waiting on Marcus' pillow while the school barn owl was waiting on Harry's.
"Oh - right," said Harry.
"And we've got to do our detentions tomorrow night, Harry," stated Ron. "Snape's dungeon."
He then turned to Marcus and said in a rather brazen manner, "Sorry for snapping at you in the dungeons. That's the only thing I'm apologizing for."
He then walked straight out of the room, not looking at either Marcus or Harry. For a moment, Marcus considered going after him - he wasn't sure whether to talk to him or hit him, both seemed quite appealing - but the lure of Sirius's answer was too strong. Marcus strode over to Archie, took the letter off his leg, and unrolled it.
Marcus -
I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted - we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning of the 21st of November?
I know that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you or Harry. However, whoever put your name in for the tournament seems to be trying real hard, especially considering how risky it was to do it in the first place.
Be on the watch, Marcus. I still want to hear from you about anything that you might consider unusual. Let me know about the 21st of November as quickly as you can.
-Sirius
And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as it'll help me refine my skills as a writer. Or, if you have any questions for me, don't hesitate to leave me a PM and, I promise, I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!
