The summons to the wand weighing ceremony couldn't have come at a better time. Draco Malfoy had, as usual, taunted Harry outside potions. That usually wasn't a problem, but Malfoy had then turned to Hermione and insulted her. Harry, sworn to protect her honour, had then drawn his wand on Malfoy. After the vigorous Gorlois training over summer, he was a fractionally quicker draw than the Slytherin and had successfully landed a nasty jinx that caused Malfoy's skin to sprout fishy smelling barnacles. Malfoy's jinx had flown wide and been easily deflected by Hermione, then hit Crabbe who promptly sprouted mushrooms all over his face.
Snape arrived a moment later to find the Gryffindors howling with laughter as Malfoy desperately tried to scratch off the marine menace as it spread across his skin. The ensuing argument between Harry and Snape was painful to watch - technically, it was Harry's right to defend the honour of his matriarch but Snape was determined to punish the Boy-Who-Lived.
The arrival of a tiny, vaguely familiar Gryffindor boy saved them for finding out exactly what the conclusion of the conflict would be.
'Miss Gorlois and Harry Potter are needed upstairs.' The boy squeaked nervously, eyeing the pair of Slytherins on the floor. Malfoy's barnacles were spreading down to his hands, and kept breaking off in fishy smelling chunks whenever he bent his fingers.
'How convenient.' Snape snarled, 'Potter, Gorlois. Come to my office after class. Parkinson, Goyle, take Mr Malfoy and Mr Crabbe to the hospital wing.'
Hermione dragged Harry away, feeling the venomous glare of Snape on their backs all the way up the corridor.
The young Gryffindor led them up several flights of stairs until they reached a small classroom. It was unused as far as Hermione was aware, but it had clearly been cleaned up for the occasion and perhaps selected for the glorious way the afternoon sunlight streamed through the large windows.
They were the last to arrive. Viktor Krum was leaning against the central window, his head angled to follow a pair of swooping owls over the forest. His headmaster brooded in the shadowy partition between the two windows and he glared fiercely at the two young Hogwarts students. Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory were over by the blackboard, engaged in animated conversation. The half-Veela kept throwing her head back and laughing; a sound like fairy bells which Hermione couldn't help but envy.
The officials were seated at a long row of desks; Crouch, Bagman, Ollivander and Skeeter. Hermione was surprised when the reporter looked at her meaningfully and jerked her head in the direction of the door. After a brief moment of consideration, and remembering Gellert's advice to entertain the reporter, Hermione nodded.
'Oh, Mr Potter! Miss Gorlois!' Skeeter enthused, turning to the other adults in the room. 'I don't suppose I could have a word with the surprise entrant and his guardian in private? You know… to add a little depth?'
Bagman seemed very taken with the suggestion of publicity, waving off the suggestion and basically forcing the two Gorlois children out of the room with the reporter. Skeeter quickly led the way to the closest classroom and barged in. Unlike the one they'd just left, it obviously hadn't been cleaned in a while and their robes were quickly covered in dust. To Hermione's surprise, Skeeter made no move to sit.
'The minister's office sent this to me last night.' Skeeter began immediately, rummaging in her large crocodile skin bag. 'Very juicy, of course, but I thought you deserved to have your own side of the story heard.'
The piece of parchment that the reporter passed over was pink, easily betraying who exactly had sent it, although Hermione supposed Umbridge, in her role as senior undersecretary, was part of the minister's office.
The High Priestess opened the thick packet, realising within seconds what she was looking at. Her empty fist clenched at her side.
It was the courting agreement between Gellert and herself, written and signed in 1896. The accompanying letter, written on pink parchment, explained that the contract had been discovered among Grindelwald's possessions at Nurmengard. Then, Umbridge went on to suggest how Hermione was obviously a dark witch, who had been resurrected by her fiancé's dark rituals to ensure that Harry Potter was led astray.
'This is… juicy.' Hermione acknowledged, glancing back up at the reporter. The High Priestess was under no impression that this information wouldn't be published.
'It is.' Skeeter acknowledged with surprising delicacy. 'But I thought that perhaps your side of the story might be more informed… and perhaps just as juicy.'
Instantly, Hermione understood. Skeeter was giving her a chance to present a less incriminating, truthful account. She didn't know whether it was due to fear of Hermione's guardian, respect for her wealth and power, or perhaps the desire to remain Hermione's favoured reporter, but the fact that Skeeter had come to her before publishing the article that Umbridge had practically dropped into her lap was a boon. Of course, it would hardly hurt the reporter to hear Hermione's side. It would be headline news for days either way, and if Rita got an exclusive interview before the news even broke, she would be right at the top of the pecking order.
'Okay, but it is quite a long and sad story.' Hermione agreed. She flicked her hand, drawing out several chairs and cleaning them with another wave. They sat down, Harry and Hermione on one side and Skeeter on the other. The reporter pulled out her quick-quotes-quill, balanced it upon the parchment and tapped it with her wand. Hermione was willing to bet that they poisonous green feather would now be writing a flowery sob story to comply with Hermione's subtly worded request.
Taking a deep breath, she recounted the story that she'd told Fudge back when they'd captured Pettigrew. She embellished it with details from the various battles, carefully leaving out her own aptitude and leadership role. The quill did an admirable job of recording her tale, making it even more sensational; apparently, she stared wistfully into the distance as she recalled the charming and protective young Gellert Grindelwald and her eyes shone with the depth of her sorrow when she spoke about being torn from her family and returned to the modern timeline. Skeeter seemed delighted, asking questions and not pressing those topics that Hermione declined to comment on.
Half an hour later, they were finished. Hermione's throat was dry from so much talking and Skeeter had four pages of notes. She scribbled a quick interview with Harry, mostly focusing on his thoughts on the tournament, who was tutoring him and whether he was feeling ready for the upcoming task.
It was just in time. Dumbledore appeared in the doorway of the classroom, Umbridge hovering at his elbow.
'Ah. There you are.' Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but the glance he cast in Hermione's direction was cooly suspicious.
'Dumbledore!' Skeeter sounded delighted as she swept up the interview, flashing it deliberately so that Umbridge couldn't miss that it was about Harry Potter. 'I do hope you saw my piece on the International Confederation of Wizards' electoral procedure?'
'Enchantingly nasty.' Dumbledore sounded like he liked Skeeter about as much as he liked Hermione. 'I particularly enjoyed your creative description of my handling of the delegation of Nurmengard security… what was it? Ah yes; I believe you said I was a bumbling fool with the subtlety of a Jarvey and an incompetence bordering on criminal?'
Hermione barely concealed her snort of amusement and Harry spluttered. Skeeter seemed entirely in embarrassed as she slipped out of the classroom. Hermione and Harry followed after her, quickly making their way back to the classroom where the rest of the champions were waiting. Ollivander was already holding a long, willowy wand that could only belong to Fleur Delacour.
'One of Gregorovitch's custom pieces?' Ollivander glanced up at them as they entered, then looked back at the French witch as she explained that the core consisted of one of her Grandmother's hairs. 'Yes, yes. I've had the pleasure of seeing one of Gregorovitch's custom wands before. Expensive, but powerful and unfailingly compatible. Has it been refinished at any point?'
Fleur answered to the negative and Ollivander hummed, running his hands over the wand and conjuring a bunch of orchids, before handing the wand back to it's owner.
Krum's wand was also from Gregorovitch, although it was one of the off-the-shelf wands. Ollivander made a disparaging comment about it's styling but pronounced it otherwise acceptable before turning to Cedric Diggory.
Diggory's wand was apparently immaculately polished and Hermione caught Harry hastily trying to wipe the finger marks off his wand on his robes. It shot off several gold sparks in protest against the rough treatment and Hermione caught his hands irritably. Fleur Delacour glanced over at them disparagingly.
Then, the attention of the wandmaker turned to Harry and Hermione.
'Ah. Miss Gorlois. One of Gregorovitch's better custom wands, I remember. In very good shape for a very old wand, if I remember correctly.' Hermione nodded, and Ollivander's ghostly eyes settled on Harry.
'Mr. Potter!' Ollivander's intense attention was unsettling and Harry shifted uncomfortably, handing his wand over to the wandmaker. 'Ah, still in good condition. Not quite as well bonded as one would expect from a fourth year. Do you use another wand?'
'No.' Harry answered quickly, glancing at Hermione.
Ollivander hummed, then shrugged and swished the wand. Wine poured from the tip and into a neatly conjured glass, which he then vanished with a subsequent wave of his wand. Finally, the wandmaker pronounced Harry's wand acceptable and returned it.
The wand inspections were followed by photos. Skeeter had each headmaster stand behind their champion, with Hermione behind Harry at the centre, then they took shots of each champion with the headmaster arranged in a studious manner behind them. Harry took two of those photos; one with Dumbledore looming benevolently and another with Hermione formally on his arm. There were a couple more, with the champions and the officials and some action shots with their wands drawn before they were finally dismissed for dinner.
Harry finally managed to speak with her in private.
'Are you upset?' He asked quickly, with a searching glance.
'No.' She replied truthfully. 'I mean, I knew it would come out eventually and I'm pleased that Skeeter came to us first. I am concerned that Umbridge might have access to other documents that might be more damaging.'
'Like what?' Harry glanced at her.
'I don't know.' Hermione's brow furrowed in concern. She couldn't think of anything off the top of her head, but she didn't doubt that there could be things that she would only realise she didn't want everyone to know about after they were released to the public.