A Year to Remember
By Izzy
Part 6:Wands and Other Things
The following Monday owls arrived with lessons for everyone. Monday morning after breakfast found four Gryffindors practicing Packaged Charms, two Hufflepuffs trying to control Seeing-mist, two Ravenclaws going over instructions for handling American Fire-crabs, Ernie MacMillian and Lisa Turpin reading about the Muggle Soviet Union, and three Slytherins reading and taking notes about something to do with Dark Magic. Whatever it was, it was disturbing Pansy Parkinson a lot for some reason.
The first week at Beauxbatons passed in this fashion. Harry began eating at the student table. Hermione even continued getting The Daily Prophet, though she now paid twice the fee. Monday evening she headed off to the Beauxbatons library, which she quickly made herself at home in. She might have been researching for the first taks, though she had not been told what it was. Harry didn't know what it was either;they'd kept it concealed from him and Fleur in case they revealed it to thier school's champion.
Fleur...it had taken Harry completely by surprise, that single moment in the Dining Chamber when the spark between them had jumped up and made itself known. They hadn't done anything about it, but Harry had found himself unable to concentrate in the short meeting where Hermione and the other two were told, at least according to Hermione, very little anyway.
He did not intend to act on the attraction in any way. He had made the vow at Cho Chang's funeral for a reason, and he didn't think he could forgive himself if Fleur died because of him.
Harry spent most of his time in the Bus. This was partly due to the fact that whenever he entered Beauxbatons he found himself followed, much as he had seen how Krum had been, by groups of giggling girls. Not all of his fans were giggly, though. Morgana's new found friend, Madeline Claudel, had come up to him Tuesday at lunch and asked very politely if she could have his autograph, only her voice betraying her excitement. He'd signed a spare piece of parchment for her, which he had afterward wondered was a mistake, for it certainly seemed to encourage the others.
But then, by the end of the week, Harry, like everyone else, was very aware that while Madeline Claudel might shoot him an admiring gaze or two, she wasn't about to get giggly, because she was currently in opposition to a very large group of gigglers:Paul Gautier's fan club. Unlike many of her peers, she had never thought much about him, and let everyone know her anger that he had been choosen as Champion, as opposed to her. And there were plently of students, who to a lesser extent, shared this view. But there were just as many who worshiped the ground he walked on.
Amusingly, Harry never saw Paul outside the company of Lavender. She received many death glares from other students, but knowing Lavender, she was probably just enjoying it.
Alfred Fadton, too, had various fans, though not nearly as many as either Harry or Paul. He seemed grateful for that. Harry never saw him alone either. Usually either Hannah or Max was with him.
Saturday came, and with it a new worry. In the morning, Hannah cajoled the Hogwarts students into seeing Max, Francisca, and Sappho off to thier Homecoming. They left at noon for an arrival time of 7:00 A.M. in the States. Watching as they dissapeared in the whirl of a Portkey reminded Harry that New York State was not the only school having thier first Quidditch game of the year. This was the day Gryffindor played Hufflepuff, and since French time was an hour ahead of England, even as he stood there, Parvati, Ginny, and the others were heading into the changing rooms. In a few minutes they would mount thier brooms, and Madam Hooch would blow her whistle...
Unable to concentrate on work, Harry paced the school lawns, snapping at the Beauxbatons students who came up to him. Parvati had promised to send him, by rush-delivery owl, an account of each game.
Finally, at dinner, a single owl soared into the hall and landed in front of Harry, carrying a large piece of parchment. Within seconds he announced, "We won, but very narrowly."
"Knatter!" stated Terry Boot. "Fourth-year and she took over, after Cedric Diggory had bit the dust. She's worse then Oliver Wood-no offense-and Marcus Flint combined. I used to think *they* were maniacs, but Elizabeth Knatter, she's probably got little bits of Boomstick running through her veins, she's so obsessed."
"And we'll have to play her again," mused Harry, "if we beat Ravenclaw and she beats Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I don't think we could beat her twice in one year."
Max, Francisca, and Sappho returned very early the following morning, reporting victory for both the team and for Francisca. The following Wensday afternoon Harry, Ron, Lavender, Terry, Lisa, and Sally-Anne were chasing the Seeing-mist, which had somehow gotten frightened, round and round the bus, treading on Hermione's Arithmancy calculations, bumping into the large box the Hufflepuffs were trying to turn into a blanket, and(perhaps delibrately) knocking thier History of Magic readings out the Slytherin's hands when a familar voice said, "I see a very trampled bus in the mist." causing everyone to jump.
"Fleur? How you'd get here?"
"Apparated in an hour ago. Today's Wand Weighing and photos. Came here to fetch you, Hermione, and Fadton."
Hermione did not like being interrupted from her Arithmancy, but got up and followed them, as did Alfred. Up to the school, where Harry was very glad the students were all in classes. "In here." Paul Gautier, the other five judges, a cameraman, several reporters, and a very old-looking woman whom Harry guessed was the wand expert were already there. As soon as the four of them had sat down, Madam Maxime spoke. "Zis is Madam Binard. She will be checking your wands."
Madame Binard was at least as old as Mr. Ollivander, and she greatly reminded Harry of him. He briefly wondered if wandmaking tended to shape one's personality into people like Mr. Ollivander and Madame Binard. Fleur had told him once Wandmaking was an elective class at Beauxbatons, and making a wand gave one a very weird feeling afterwards. She had taken it(making both her own and Gabrielle's wands), and the class was held only once every two weeks, because any more often, "And things happen to the students. They nearly cancelled the class at one point, people got afraid of it and stopped taking it."
"Mounsier Gautier." Paul Gautier walked up to her with the usual sweep in his step. She spoke in French.
"She made his wand," Fleur translated. "It's twelve and a half inches, poplar, unicorn tail-hair core, can be bent in a pinch." Madame Binard caused a length of ribbon to fly from the wand and twist into several shapes before handing it back to Paul. "Tres bien. Meess Grangair?"
"An Ollivander wand?" she asked, when Hermione had nervously walked forward and handed her wand to her. Hermione nodded. "Not zat bad a wand-maker, but zen, of course...seven inches, maple, pheonix feather, quite whippy." She looked at it up and down for quite some time. "Rosamutere!" she turned a chair pink. "Inverte!" she turned it back. "It's fine. Meester Fadton?"
She gave what was unmistakably a smirk as she picked up Alfred Fadton's wand. "Zis one was created by Meester Aldera, I believe?"
"That is was."
"I suppose he ran first ze core, zen the wood past you, and made ze wand while you watched." From the way she spoke, she didn't think this was a very good way to make a wand. "Ten inches, oak, dragon heartstring-American dragon, I think. Slightly springy. Did he zell you any fancy zales?"
"Tales?" Alfred repeated in slight confusion. "Not about my wand. He told Hannah about hers." Harry wondered if Alfred noticed that at the mention of Hannah several of the reporters began writing excitedly. "He claims he fell the pine tree himself, and that he rescued the unicorn when it got caught in a landslide, so it let him have it's tail hairs, and hers only made a nine-inch wand because it had been caught in a rock and he had to cut the end off. I didn't believe him."
"Very good for you. Crepitus!" There was the sound of a loud clash, leaving everyone's ears ringing. "Working perfectly well." she said in unconcealed amazement.
"Photos!" yelled the cameraman, and all five of them were instantly mobbed by reporters.
The following day...
The following day, an article appeared in The Daily Prophet. The first thing Hermione, Ron, and Harry noticed as they read over breakfast was it wasn't nearly as bad as Rita Skeeter's article. Once thing in thier advantage was that the reporter who had replaced Rita Skeeter either hated her or just thought it made a good story to defame her. Or perhaps it was in thier disadvantage:
Sadly, the scars that the infamous Rita Skeeter inflicted apon Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger are still very apparent. Both of them were very fearful while your esteemed reporter attempted to interview them. Ms. Granger went hysterical when reminded of the slanderous lies of her love life.
"I did not go hysterical." grumbled Hermione. "Oh my, Hannah's not going to like this..."
She had read further down the paper, where it became apparent that being forced to abandon the love story between Harry and Hermione, the reporter had found another to replace it:
Even more intriguing is the fact that Alfred Fadton, the unusually handsome champion of New York State Wizarding School, the only school new to the Tournament, has found love amoung the Hogwarts students. According to one of his classmates, a beautiful girl by the name of Francisca Martinez, he had barely stepped onto Beauxbatons grounds when he was in the embrace of the pretty Miss Hannah Abbott, who is herself American, and attends Hogwarts on family tradition alone. One must wonder where Miss Abbott's loyalties truely lie.
When confronted with this article, Francisca admitted she had told a reporter of the story, and about Hannah, but insisted, "I in no way hinted that they were dating, or that Hannah wasn't loyal to Hogwarts. They twisted my words around. I didn't think there was harm in answering a few questions..."
"Well now you do," Hermione told her. She was also cross that the new reporter obviously had no more scruples then Rita Skeeter had about fake quotes:
"Sometimes I do think, yes, my parents feel distant, because they're Muggles. Afraid of me, almost. I really don't like that."
But none of them noticed, until someone pointed it out later, that the article did not mention anything about Paul Gautier and Lavender. In fact, it didn't say much about Paul at all.
"That makes sense," Hermione commented. "He was the one amoung us the most eager to speak. I think he was telling the truth, and if he was, I must say, it's raised my opinion of him."
Indeed, Paul had made comments. He now reminded Harry a lot of Cedric Diggory. Maybe annoyingly handsome, and tending to get attention, but still a good person. True, he wasn't humble at all, but the similarities stood.
But he was just as surprised as everyone else when he saw the ghost of Cedric behind Paul that Friday.
It was right after lunch. They had all been filing out of the Dining Chamber, when there was the sound of screaming, and everyone had backed away from Paul, who had turned and was staring, open-mouthed, at Cedric's silvery form. According to Fleur, there were no ghosts at Beauxbatons. Ernie and Justin had run over immediately, and the others followed, but Cedric had dissapeared by the time they reached Paul. Justin shook his head. "That was Cedric. I'm sure it was."
Paul went pale at his words. "Cedric Diggory? Ze champion who died during ze last Tournament?"
Without a word, both Ernie and Justin nodded. There were screams.
"Stop it!" snapped Hermione angrily. "It's just a silly superstition!"
"What is?" asked Harry in confusion.
Paul answered. "Ze Triwizard Ghost. Eet's ze ghost of ze last champion who died, eet appears behind ze next victim of ze Tournament, marking 'im."
Hermione snorted skepticly, but Justin gasped and said, "Cedric! At one point, I spotted him going up to his dormitory, and I saw a ghost behind him! It dissapeared before I could get a good look at it, there are so many ghosts at Hogwarts, I never thought it was anything important!"
"Coincidence." insisted Hermione. "Someone probably just conjured the ghost of Cedric as a prank."
"Sounds like a pretty big coincidence." pointed out Ron. "And could they have known what he looked like?"
She rounded on him. "Well, you're always so superstitious-"
Harry listened to them argue with only half an ear as they headed back across the grounds, knowing well it would die down long before they reached the bus. If Cedric had been haunted by a Triwizard Ghost, he believed it very possible that the Ghost was real. But, as Hermione pointed out, the Ghost they'd just seen could be fake. Morgana had not been with them, she preferred to eat with Madeline and make her way back to the bus alone, and given Madeline was infamous in her jealousy of Paul, it was very possible the two of them had done it, and that right now Morgana was snickering back in the bus.
But what if it was real?
November 26...
"Harry!" he turned sharply when he heard her voice. Fleur hurried up to him. "Harry, can I speak to you privately for a moment?"
He wasn't surprised to see her there. Today was, after all, the day of the first task. But he did wonder what she wanted to talk to him privately about. He couldn't help but feel the attraction, growing steadily stronger. If she wanted to take thier relationship further, how could he explain to her why he wouldn't? He wasn't sure she even knew about Cho.
"I'll join you later," he said to Ron and Hermione, and followed her across the Entrance Hall, through a door into a tiny corridor.
"Allright," she began, and she looked very nervous. "Now, you know, of course, about the Yule Ball. And since I won't be here again until then, getting a date will be very difficult for me, so I've got to get one now. Since I assume you'll let Ron ask Hermione, I was wondering if you'd be willing to go with me."
Harry was stunned. Fleur Delacour, asking him out to the Yule Ball? Times certainly had changed from three years ago.
"Of course, if you want to go with someone else, I understand perfectly. I've got the entire day to get a date-"
"No, that's okay." Harry heard himself say. "I'd be happy to go with you."
Then he realized she might be intending to romance him. But there was no emotion on her face except relief. "Thanks." She grinned. "But then, does Ron have the courage to ask Hermione?"
"I dunno. I intend to help him out if nessecary."
"Okay," She considered for a moment. "Harry, that elf you're friends with, Dobby. He worked for a private family once, right?"
"Yes..."
"Do you know if he can take robe measurements or not?"
"No idea."
"See if he can. If he can, get him to take Hermione and Ron's measurements. Make sure he does it without thier knowing. And get your own while you're at it. Send them to me."
And without explaining further, she turned and walked back into the Entrance Hall.
Unlike the previous Tournament, this time the morning went annoyingly slow. And by the time they had come out of the bus, Hermione was so nervous Harry, Ron, and Fleur summoned her food for her and spent most of lunch trying to get her to eat. Finally Madame Baud came over, the other two champions with her. "Meester Potter, Madamoiselle Delacour, Meess Grangair. Follow me."
"Good luck!" yelled Ron as they followed her out of the Dining Chamber. Out into the Entrance Hall, then into the grounds, around the school, to a clump of trees. "Meester Fadton, Meess Grangair, Mounsier Gautier, wait 'ere. Mounsier Delacroix will be weeth you shortly." Then she dissapeared into the clump of trees, Harry and Fleur following her.
"Judge fairly, will you?" Hermione called after them. She didn't think she'd ever been this nervous in her life. Paul, likewise, was visibly sweating, and Alfred's usual smile was gone.
It seemed ages of standing there. The three of them watched while teachers, Professors Dumbledore and Bobwhite amoung them, led thier students past the trees to whatever was on the other side. At last Mounsier Delacroix emerged. "Meester Fadton." Alfred followed him away.
Minutes later there was the sound of uproar from the crowd, but with noone commenting, it was impossible to tell what was going on. "What's happening?" Hermione wondered out loud.
"I don't want to know," replied Paul.
Then there was cheering. "Is that good..." started Paul, "...or bad?"
Minutes later Mounsier Delacroix reappared. "Mounsier Gautier."
Paul looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. Perhaps he had taken the Triwizard Ghost seriously? There was none of the usual grandness in his step as he walked away.
Hermione tried to wish him luck, but her throat had clogged up. She was only vaguely aware of the crowd, until she heard the cheering which meant she was next. Her entire body had gone numb with fear by the time Mounsier Delacroix returned. She did not feel her feet move, she only saw the tree move in and pass her by.
And then they exited the grove, and she saw a gigantic troll, at least twenty-five feet tall, and carrying a five-foot club. It was standing about.
"Begin when eet moves. Your goal ees 'o get ze black jewel." And he pointed to a tiny jewel on top of rock on the far side of the troll. He hurried to the judge's stand on the far side. A streak of gold light hit the troll, and it started lumbering towards her.
Hermione did the first thing she could think of. She raised her wand and yelled, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The rational part of her mind yelled at her that that had been a stupid thing to do. But barely a second later, it reminded itself that the first task was designed to test a champion's daring, and quieted.
Her spell lifted the club up, slowly, above the troll's reach. Forcing all of her will into the spell, she began to float the club away from the rock with the jewel.
The troll started in her direction after the club. Instinctivly she moved, and they circled each other. Step by step, she moved towards her goal...
She couldn't keep the club up much longer. Remembering, she began raising the club higher, and more directly above the troll's head. Stupidly it looked up and gazed, and tried to reach for the club, but it was now way out of reach.
Without taking her eyes off the club, she began moving backwards, towards the rock. She had nearly reached it when the troll turned at stared straight at her. Realizing his intent, she did the only think she could. She released the club, causing it to plummet right on top of the troll's head.
The troll rocked above, dazed, and that was all she needed. She sprinted to the rock, grabbed the jewel, and was running towards the stands as fast as she could.
She landed in Ron's arms. He had jumped down from his seat to receive her. "You did it!" he was yelling. "You did it! With only that silly floating spell! If I didn't know you better, Hermione, I'd say you were acting on instinct alone."
"I think I was," she gasped. She could feel her body again, and she suddenly was very aware of how tightly she was being held. The last time Ron had held her, she'd been too upset to notice how nice it felt. "Where are the other two?"
"Alfred's in the medical tent," answered Hannah. The other students had joined them. "He made himself invisible, but the troll heard him. It was quite terrifying, because we didn't know whether he was okay or not. He had a fractured shoulder." She was grinning as much as the others.
"And Paul's getting some water. He sure looked like he needed it." added Lavender, who was also grinning. "No offense, Hermione, but Paul was the best. He cast all these weird lights and confused the troll silly."
"That's the recommended way of dealing with trolls," noted Hermione. "I read about it, but it took so long to learn, and I was trying to learn as many spells as possible-"
"That settles it," said Sally-Anne flatly. "He knew beforehand."
Lavender opened her mouth to disagree, but Ron cut her off, "Look! They're giving out marks!"
Fleur went first. She flicked her wand, and a ribbon flew out and formed a number:9.
"Nine? I asked her to judge fairly." sighed Hermione.
"Well, she didn't." replied Lavender. "She gave Paul a 5."
"Well that's because she knew he blatently cheated." shot back Sally-Anne.
Harry was next. His wand formed the number 8. Hermione nodded her approval.
Next was Professor Bobwhite:9.
Next, Madame Maxime:7.
Next, Dumbledore:8.
Next, Mounsier Hugot:8.
And finally, Mounsier Delacroix:2.
"Two?!" Ron was beside himself with outrage. "And Gautier was bad enough when it came to cheating!"
Hermione had been so absorbed in what was going on she had not noticed how warm the black jewel had grown in her hand. Suddenly she felt it grow burning hot, and looked down just in time to see it dissolve into her hand. And she knew what the second task was.