Author's note:
I hope your year is off to a good start! I'm sooo sorry that I haven't posted a chapter over the past couple of weeks. I made this one extra long so hopefully that makes up for it. Enjoy!
After lunch on Friday was Double Potions, Harry's least favourite subject. Luckily, on Friday afternoon was the Weighing of the Wands ceremony, meaning they'd be able to get out of Double Potions-Double Doom, as Ron called it, Double Disaster, as Harry fondly thought of it-earlier than usual.
But as soon as they turned down the corridor in the Dungeons that hosted the Potions classroom, Harry knew that this lesson would be much worse than the others.
Slytherins flanked the walls surrounding the door to the classroom, grinning craftily at one another. But Harry's attention wasn't on their faces. He was more focused on the fact that all of the Slytherins were sporting bright yellow badges. They were in a circular shape, and displayed the words
SUPPORT DIGGORY'S TRIO:
THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPIONS
in a bold, black ink.
Malfoy grinned, walking loftily towards them. "Do you like these, Potter?" He jeered. "Granger? Weaselby?" Ron glared at him. Hermione sighed. Harry could feel rage stirring in his stomach, but he didn't react. He didn't want to give Malfoy that satisfaction. Malfoy seemed to deflate slightly, seeing Harry wasn't going to rise, but then he perked up a bit.
"Oi! Longbottom? Want a badge?"
Neville had just stepped up beside Harry, Ron and Hermione.
"Leave them alone, Malfoy," Neville replied.
"Ooh," the crowd around them called, tensing the scene further. Glancing around anxiously, Malfoy seemed to realise he was losing the upper hand, so he acted quickly, holding a spare badge out to Neville.
"This isn't all they do, Longbottom, watch."
Malfoy, and all the other Slytherins tapped their badges with their fingers, in what was clearly a rehearsed movement.
The badges changed to a gross, lime green colour. They now showed the words
POTTER'S TRIO STINKS
in the same blazing black lettering.
Neville rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione got there first.
"Oh, ha ha. How funny. Really witty." She said scathingly.
"Careful how you speak to your superiors," Malfoy fake cautioned. Harry felt a burst of anger in his chest, and he stepped up next to Hermione. Ron drew his wand and trained it on their taunter.
"You're not our superior," Harry said quietly. Malfoy pretended not to hear him.
"Want one, Granger?" He asked politely. Beside Hermione, Harry, Ron and Neville all tensed. Malfoy proffered the badge to her. "You can have this spare, if you want. Oh, but don't go taking it now, I just washed my hands, and I don't want a Mudblood sliming them up."
Harry saw red. He barely heard Pansy Parkinson laughing at Malfoy's insult, or the snickering of the watching students.
"Take that back, Malfoy," threatened Ron, wand still trained on him.
"Careful, Weaselby. You might break that toy of yours, and then you'd be in real trouble. I highly doubt your family could afford another one. Or, you might accidentally curse yourself again. Actually, don't be careful, I want to see you puke slugs again…" Malfoy left the bait dangling.
Harry grabbed Ron and tried to restrain him, but Ron had already fired a curse at Malfoy, who stopped looking down his nose at them to dodge the spell and draw his own wand. Then his goons Crabbe and Goyle stepped up, wands out. Harry drew his own wand purely out of defence.
The Slytherins lined up behind Malfoy, pointing their wands at the Gryffindors, who had lined up behind Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville.
Wands raised, the Slytherins fired, igniting the duel.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled, wand directed at Pansy. Her wand left her hand, and she looked down at her empty grasp, completely bewildered. Harry saw a jet of purple light fly close to him, and he dodged it.
"Petrificus totalus!" Neville hissed, aiming for Malfoy, but the spell missed.
"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!" Harry tried to diffuse the situation. If everyone was disarmed, the duel couldn't continue. While he wanted to curse Malfoy into smithereens, he didn't particularly want to verse the arsenal of Dark Curses the Slytherins most likely knew. Neville and Hermione, on either side of him, caught on to his idea and also attempted to disarm the Slytherins. Then Neville fell over, hit by the full body bind curse, Harry saw.
Hermione instantly kneeled next to him. "Neville? Neville, can you reply?" She wrung her hands.
"Body-bind curse," Harry managed to say, in between firing Disarming spells.
"Oh! Rennervate!" She cried. Neville unfroze.
"Diffindo!" Harry heard Malfoy yell. Diffindo? Harry thought. The cutting curse? That was beyond the line.
Hermione cried out, as Malfoy's spell hit her across the right of her face, slicing her cheek open.
"Hermione!" Harry gasped, crouching down to her.
"Hermione," Neville echoed, getting up from the floor, still wheezing from the curse he was hit with.
"'M fine," she gasped out, clutching her cheek with one hand. Harry could see blood on her face.
Then Harry felt a spell hit him, and he slid to the floor, unable to support his weight. Confused, he lay there. He wasn't in pain. He tried standing up, but his legs felt like jelly and he slid back down…the jelly-legs jinx! That's what had hit him!
"What is the meaning of this?" A nasty, sly voice asked quietly.
The duel instantly came to a ceasefire. Slowly, every head turned to see Snape standing in the doorway leading to the Potions classroom. His gaze roamed over the students, some unconscious, others hurt, but most still standing. Dread filled Harry like a balloon. Snape wouldn't listen to their side of the story. He'd just take the Slytherins' version as pure fact.
"The-the Gryffindors," gasped Malfoy, who had been perfectly fine one moment ago, but was now feigning some terrible pain is his chest. "They-attacked-us," he wheezed out.
"They fired first!" Ron said angrily, which was technically a lie.
"They-hurt us-tried to-" Malfoy stammered, gasping from his obviously fake pain.
"I see." Snape hissed, his black eyes gleaming maliciously. "Ten points.-"
"Ten?" Malfoy looked shocked. Snape gave him a look.
"-from every Gryffindor that fired a spell."
"What? They attacked us first!" Ron argued. Harry sighed. Obviously Snape was biased.
"And detention for Mr. Weasley."
The Gryffindors began shouting at Snape. It was probably a good thing Snape couldn't pick out individual words, otherwise he would have turned even more purple than he already was, but he-
"Silence!" Snape commanded. Silence fell. "Fifty points from Gryffindor."
Malfoy caught Harry's eye, and grinned victoriously. Harry glared back.
"Sir, I think Draco needs the hospital wing. And can we please have our wands back?" Pansy Parkinson simpered.
Belatedly, Harry realised he was holding three other wands. One of them was Pansy's.
"Detention, Mr. Potter," Snape said smoothly. "And give the students you so rudely disarmed their wands back." Harry tossed the wands back to their owners, his face burning with shame and indignation. He was still under the influence of the jelly-legs jinx, unable to stand.
Snape then walked through all the Slytherins, checking them for spells, waving his wand over them to remove the spells they were cursed with. In the end he sent three Slytherins to the Hospital Wing. None of them were even hurt.
"Inside. Now." Snape commanded the students. Most of the students traipsed in. Only Harry, Ron, Hermione and a few others remained, although Neville hovered in the doorway.
"You need to go to the Hospital Wing," Ron told Hermione.
"Miss Granger?" Snape mock inquired. "Are you injured?"
"You can see the blood dripping down her face. What else do you want?" Ron asked. Harry mentally slapped Ron. But Snape merely said, "inside, Weasley, or it will be double detention and another fifty points. I think Gryffindor has lost enough today, don't you?" Ron harrumphed and stormed inside the classroom.
"Can you heal her?" Harry asked. He was still trying to stand. "Or at least send her to the Hospital Wing?"
"I see no need. The injury is not severe enough to cause her to miss class."
"But Malfoy wasn't even hurt!" Seamus Finnigan argued.
Snape's eyes gleamed again. "I suggest you enter the classroom, Mr Finnigan." Seamus didn't dare disobey. "Inside. All of you. Now." Everyone traipsed in, except for Harry and Hermione. Hermione had one hand cupped to her cheek and one hand trying to help the jinxed Harry stand.
"Mr Potter? Are you incapable of standing?" Snape queried.
Harry seethed. "Someone hit me with the jelly-legs jinx."
Snape sighed and waved his wand, muttering something under his breath. Harry felt his legs turn strong again, and he stood up.
"See? We were cursed too!" Harry protested mildly, knowing arguing would make the situation worse, but unable to simply do nothing.
"I see no evidence of that." He sneered. "Perhaps one of your fellow Gryffindors simply has poor aim…Longbottom, maybe?" Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione dragged him inside.
"It's not worth it," she told him. Harry knew she was right, but that didn't stop the anger bubbling in his chest.
Double Potions was very tense. The two houses were having a silent standoff, which Snape ignored on the Slytherins' part. Typical.
Harry was grateful when a very intimidated Colin Creevy knocked on the Dungeon door and informed Snape on a shaky voice that Harry, Ron and Hermione were needed in the Great Hall. Snape didn't argue, because he knew the formalities of the event.
Soon the three were standing outside the Great Hall. The Weighing of the Wands ceremony was something Harry, Ron and Hermione had distinctly not been looking forward to. Well, Harry and Hermione dreaded it. Ron was nervous, but this was when the Champions would be introduced to the world as Champions. Harry knew Ron would be excited about the opportunities of fame this ceremony would present.
Harry couldn't much say the same, but he was used to it. Being Harry Potter came with lifelong fame. Slaying a Basilisk as a second year came with recognition beyond the usual. Not to mention the multiple other attention-gathering things Harry had done at Hogwarts. Combining them all made for the sort of fame that had driven Gilderoy Lockheart to attempt to wipe his and Ron's memories, in order to defend his reputation.
"Are you guys ready?" Harry asked.
The Trio were hovering anxiously around the entrance to the Great Hall, waiting to go in for the Weighing of the Wands.
The Weighing of the Wands was a ceremony, they're told, conducted by wand-makers, testing the efficiency-or, in the case, the possible deficiencies of the Champions' wands, so they were all on even fighting ground, so to speak. According to Hermione, who had researched, this ceremony was introduced in 1789, when the Triwizard Tournament held that year fell to pieces. One of the contestant's wands malfunctioned, sending a dangerous curse at the user, sending them into a magical coma for a month. The Weighing of the Wands ceremony was promptly introduced, and had happened during every tournament since, in order to prevent such a disaster from happening again.
"Yeah," Ron replied. Harry started a little, having gotten so lost in his train of thought that he didn't realise his friends were speaking to him.
"Yes," agreed Hermione, who sounded excited. Ron frowned.
"I thought you were opposed to anything tournament-related?" he asked? Hermione shot him a scathing look. "I'm not opposed to everything," she argued. "I'm merely cautious. But the ceremony will be fascinating! To learn more about wandlore and wand function…"
Harry opened the doors to the Great Hall, keen to get the ceremony over with as quickly as he possibly could.
The Hall disappointed. Harry had envisaged something more elaborate, more formal, but it looked the same as ever. Well, besides the fact the tables were gone. And the lack of people. In fact, only fifteen people stood in the room.
Krum stood with Sabin Ivanov and Petya Kolev. They were talking in low, quiet voices that Harry couldn't understand; but he could interpret the dark glances thrown their way. Ivanov and Kolev glowered at them. Krum's gaze had more curiosity than contempt in it, however, which Harry found slightly gratifying. Karkaroff paced between his Trio and Madame Maxime. The pair were muttering about the events of the other night, Harry guessed. Fleur Delacour stood with her Champions, Camille Moulin and Sacha Bonnet. All three of them looked elegant, although Fleur the most. Harry had to stamp down the weird flutters in his stomach. He knew he didn't like Fleur; it was the fact she was Veela that made her undeniably attractive, so attractive that he couldn't help but notice it. React to it.
And the other Hogwarts Trio stood together, proud and dominant. It was obvious they wanted to show that they were the real Champions.
Then Professor Dumbledore hurried over to them.
"Miss Granger? Are you alright?" He asked anxiously.
"What?" Hermione looked confused, and then she said "oh."
The blood had dried from her cheek, but it was smeared on her face and hands. No wonder the other Champions had been staring, Harry thought. It wasn't exactly an innocent sight.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Hermione waved it off. Professor Dumbledore frowned.
"What happened?" He inquired, as he waved his wand, removing the dried blood and healing the cut.
"Thank you, Professor." Hermione said.
"You're welcome," Dumbledore said kindly, his eyes twinkling. "Now, what happened?"
Ron jumped in eagerly. "The Slytherins started saying some rude stuff before Potions, and then they attacked us, and Malfoy hit Hermione with a curse! And Snape didn't even take any points! Professor," Ron caught himself at the end, adding Dumbledore's title. Dumbledore frowned.
"Professor Snape to you, Mr. Weasley," he reminded Ron. "And I will talk to him about what happened. But in the meantime I believe you have a ceremony to join."
The other fourteen occupants of the room were staring at them.
The Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and Hogwarts Trios looked disdainful, and scorning. Harry realised how they must come across. Three young students, too young to be Champions, disrupting the ceremony to complain about trivial inter-house tiffs. While Harry still believed himself justified, he knew this would show Hogwarts in a bad light, so he took a deep breath and shoved aside the thoughts about the duel, focusing instead on the ceremony and the Tournament.
Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were muttering. But Harry turned his attention to the other two people in the room.
The first person he had not seen in over three years; indeed, not since his eleventh birthday. But he still recognised them, clear as day. Dressed in long, sweeping robes, clearly once a magnificent black but faded to a dark grey, his wispy, electrified silver hair bushing out around him like a very thin version of Hermione's, Harry recognised Ollivander, the wand-maker, who had sold Harry his phoenix feather and holly wand. The one that's brother was the wand of Lord Voldemort.
Harry felt a tingle in his spine, and he shivered.
One of the other people was a woman Harry had never seen before, let alone met. She was extremely tall, and she wore silk dragon-green robes that pinched her waist tightly and flared out below it, ending just at her ankles. Her blonde hair was carefully styled into a puff of curls. She wore a pair of foul red glasses, and was clutching a clipboard and a quill. Next to her stood the last person, one Harry didn't know. He was a short little man with a very big camera standing next to him.
Harry could only guess that this was the press. He sighed.
The woman clip-clopped over to them, her high heels making an obvious and distracting noise on the stone floors of the Great Hall.
"Professor Dumbledore, do you mind if I take these three for an interview before we begin?"
Professor Dumbledore hesitated.
"Do it now," Karkaroff said. "We're happy to wait."
Although the sarcasm was obvious in his voice, the woman seemed to take this as all the invitation she needed. "This way." She all but marched them out of the Hall. Harry glanced back at Dumbledore, who gestured for him to follow, so Harry did.
The woman stopped outside an empty classroom. "This will do," she said.
Harry, Ron and Hermione entered.
"You don't mind if I use a quick-quotes quill, do you?" She asked. Ron shrugged. Harry wasn't sure what that was, and Hermione looked like she wasn't even present.
"My name is Rita Skeeter," the woman said proudly. "I am a trusted reporter of the Daily Prophet."
The quill scratched on her clipboard. Harry glanced at it.
Notes from Hog. Trio #2 interview, by Rita Skeeter, an author known to write several articles stretching the truth more than once-
"Eyes on me, Harry." Rita Skeeter said. Harry looked at her reluctantly. "Have a seat," she gestured in a friendly manner. The three sat before Rita Skeeter.
"So, can you please introduce yourselves to me? Harry first," she commanded.
"Uh, well, I'm Harry. I'm fourteen," Harry said. "I'm a Gryffindor and-"
"Not the boring stuff, Harry." Rita laughed. "Tell me about how it felt to have your name drawn from the Goblet."
"Um, it was pretty shocking." Harry said, feeling surprised someone would have to have asked this. Surely, it was obvious. "Surreal."
"How fascinating. Now, tell us, how did you get your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Rita Skeeter asked, her eyes glistening like black beetles behind her foul glasses.
"I didn't," Harry replied, anger rising. "I didn't put my name in."
"You don't have to pretend. You're a champion now," she smiled.
"He told you he didn't put his name in," Hermione interjected. "None of us did." Rita turned to her.
"And you are…?"
"Hermione Granger," Hermione told her, jaw set.
"Very interesting, I haven't heard of a Granger family before," she mused.
"And how is that relevant?" Ron said defensively.
"Oh, it's always relevant, Mr…."
"Weasley. Ron Weasley," Ron provided, seemingly less eager to talk to the press now than he had seemed before.
"Ah." Rita tutted in distaste. Ron's ears went red, a sure sign he was fuming.
"Tell me, Harry, how do you enjoy classes?" Rita asked.
"School is great," said Harry firmly.
"Do you find being in a magical world hard? After what happened to your parents?"
"That's quite enough of that!" Hermione said angrily.
Rita raised her eyebrows. "What is your blood status, Miss Granger?" Rita asked, mock delicately.
"Not relevant," Ron said firmly.
"I'm a muggle-born." Hermione said loudly, obviously angered by this question.
"And if that's going to be a problem, then this interview is done," Harry added.
"Interesting, interesting." Rita Skeeter mused, glancing over her clipboard. Her quill was still writing, but she seemed satisfied, because she returned to questioning.
"Do you think you'll be able to handle the pressure of the tournament?" She asked them all.
"Yes," they chorused in unison, a response they'd agreed upon earlier, even though they weren't sure it was true.
"Hmm," She mused. "Do you think your abilities will be up to standard? Especially yours, Miss Granger?"
"Why should Hermione be any more lacking than ours?" Ron demanded.
"Well," Rita said, "she's not used to a magical environment, and most muggle-horns just don't have the same ability-"
"Actually, Hermione's top of our year," Harry told her coldly.
Rita Skeeter looked highly surprised, and then she backtracked.
"Well, I'm sure you'll all do fine," she said with a little laugh. Then she turned back to Harry.
"So, Harry, tell us. What can you remember about October 31st, 1981?" Harry blanched. He wasn't about to talk to a rude, clearly discriminative news reporter about the night his parents died.
"This interview is over," Hermione said, standing. "Let's go."
"I still have a couple of questions," Rita said desperately, knowing she was about to lose the three of them.
"Well, you should've thought to ask them before you started being rude to my friends!" Ron snorted at her gall.
"C'mon," Harry said, dragging them from the room. Rita Skeeter was saying stuff to them, but they all ignored her.
"She was so rude!" Ron vented, as soon as they had exited the classroom. "Attacking Hermione because of her blood status-did you see how prejudiced she was against muggle-borns? How she assumed they're dumber than everyone else? I mean, just look at Hermione!"
"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said, smiling warmly at him. "But it's a pretty common opinion. You don't have to defend me."
"Of course I do!" Ron protested fiercely. "She was totally unfair to you!"
"And to you," Harry added. "She literally asked you two questions; your name, and then the question she asked us all. She blew you off."
"Yes, she was very rude." Hermione agreed, her voice rising shrilly like it always does when she's angry or upset. "I mean, what she said to you, Harry! About your parents! I mean, does she have no consideration whatsoever-"
"Hermione," Ron interrupted quietly. They were back outside the Great Hall. Everyone was staring at them.
"I trust that your interview was good?" Professor Dumbledore asked with a knowing look.
"It was-" Ron began.
"It was fine, Professor," Harry interjected hastily, wanting as little trouble as possible. Dumbledore nodded.
"Can we start ze ceremony alreadee?" Fleur Delacour asked impatiently.
"Of course," said Rita Skeeter from behind them. Harry jumped, having not noticed her come in. "You do the wand part, and then I will take a couple of pictures."
Ollivander was introduced to them as the local wand-maker, and then he started examining the wands of the other Champions. Harry turned him out under Ollivander came over to them.
"Mr. Potter. It seems like only yesterday that you were in my shop." He took Harry's wand, examining it. "Holly with a phoenix feather core, yes?" Harry nodded.
"Do you polish your wand regularly?" He pointed to the finger marks all over the wand. Harry felt himself go red.
"Yeah," he lied. "I just-I have oily hands." Great one, Harry. Real great, he thought. Oily hands. Smooth.
Ollivander didn't comment, but instead he flourished Harry's wand, and a stream of red and gold ribbons flew out of it, curling themselves into the shape of a lion. Once finished, the lion floated down to Harry, magically made to stay together. It was actually pretty cool.
"Thanks," Harry said.
"You're welcome. Your wand is fine," Ollivander informed him. He looked as if he had more to say, but he decided against it, moving on to Ron.
"Mr. Weasley." He took Ron's wand. "Unicorn hair and willow?" Ron nodded, and Ollivander tested the wand, making the same lion for Ron as he did Harry. Harry felt a stab of jealousy that Ron hadn't been asked about finger marks and cleaning; he knew Ron didn't clean his wand, either. Once he'd cleared Ron's wand, he moved onto Hermione's. "Miss Granger." Studying the wand, he proclaimed it dragon heartstring and vine wood, a unique combination, he said. Then he waved his wand, and a bouquet of red and yellow flowers blossomed to life before them. "For you, Miss Granger." Hermione took the flowers, thanking Ollivander.
"That concludes the Weighing of the Wands ceremony," said Dumbledore, thanking Ollivander.
Harry looked around. The other champions were holding an assortment of conjured treasures, much the same as the lions and the flowers. Harry thought it was actually a pretty cool way to test their wands, rather than just performing spells.
Then Rita Skeeter and the photographer organised them into a large group, getting multiple photos. Photos of all Champions, of just Captains, of the individual Trios, photos with the headmasters and headmistress of the schools. Harry actually timed it to be twenty minutes of photos. But finally, Rita Skeeter released them.
As the bell for the end of classes was about to ring, Dumbledore didn't make them go back to class, so instead they went back up to the common room.
"Well, that was that." Harry said, as they climbed the staircase back in an exhausted, moody silence.
"At least our wands are good, I guess," said Ron.
"Yeah," Hermione agreed. They fell back into silence, but to Harry the air felt a little more comfortable. His wand was all good to compete with.
The thought of competing made him both nervous and excited. The nerves were nothing new, but the excitement was. He imagined the three of them winning the Tournament. Holding the trophy up to the school. Draco Malfoy and the Slytherins no longer justified to taunt them, because they would be the Triwizard Tournament Trio of victors, the best of the Champions…
Part of Harry was actually looking forward to the First Task. And while that probably should've scared him, for some reason, it didn't.