A/n: changing up the POV a little.

I realised that Igor Karkaroff didn't have a title and they just called him by name, I feel like it's a little out of character on his part so I have dubbed him Don Karkaroff. it is an honorific title that is used as a mark of esteem similar to Dame or Sir. I changed it through out the story so no need to go back for continuity.

I am also terrible at writing in accents so you are going to have to imagine those for me.

Harry:

"Harry Potter!" Professor Dumbledore roared his name angrily a second time and Kurt pushed him to his feet.

"Time to pay the piper," Kurt placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before pushing him toward the seething headmaster. From behind Harry there were jeers and heckling as he approached the front of the great hall, Professor Dumbledore handed him the parchment with his name on it and looking down all he could hear in his head was Kurt's voice telling him that he would surely die in this tournament.

"That's not my hand writing," Harry whispered to nobody in particular as he descended the stairs into the trophy room. It was when things like these happened that Harry wondered why this sort of thing happened to him, why couldn't Hermione had been picked? She would have fared better than he ever would.

"Have they sent you with a message?" Fleur Delacour asked him in a lilted voice with a thick French accent as he joined the three of them by the fire place.

"Not exactly," Harry's voice went sharp and he had to clear his throat.

"Are you like my towel boy because Finn will be crushed," Cedric teased him.

Harry cleared his throat before speaking, "not quite."

"Then why are you here?" Viktor Krum quirked a bushy brow as he asked in a distinct eastern European accent.

"It is not my hand writing," Harry shook his head shyly.

"What?" Viktor asked furrowing his brow.

"This is one of my boyfriend Kurt's friends," Cedric explained, "they never make any sense."

"I'll tell Kurt you said that," Harry pointed an accusatory finger.

"Does Kurt know you're down here?" Cedric countered, "He won't be happy to hear it."

"Considering he threw out my seat," Harry shrugged, "I think he has some idea."

"I'm sure this is the most I've ever spoken to you," Cedric pointed out, "You're chatty tonight."

"It happens," Harry chuckled, "probably the longest I've gone without sticking my foot in my mouth."

"Harry Potter," Professor Dumbledore's voice echoed through the room as he came barrelling down the stairs with Madame Maxime and Don Karkaroff in tow, the three headmasters were followed closely by Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, and bringing up the rear were Professors Moody and McGonagall, "Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"

"It's not my handwriting," Harry held his hands up in surrender.

"Well, of course he is lying," Madame Maxime rolled her eyes and crossed arms in a manner that reminded him of an overgrown Kurt, "how else would his name have gotten into the cup."

"I doubt it Madame," Professor Moody countered, "the goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object and it would take magical abilities well beyond those of a fourth year to confound it. The fact that the Goblet of Fire spit out four names instead of three is a clear indication that there is a confundus charm at work."

"Depending on the fourth year," Harry mumbled to himself.

Don Karkaroff turned to Harry with fire in his eyes, "What was that boy?"

"Nothing," Harry held his hands up in surrender, "I was just thinking to myself."

"And what is it you were thinking about?" Don Karkaroff pressed him for an answer.

"Well, Professor Moody said that a fourth year couldn't confound the Goblet of fire," Harry explained nervously, "I was simply musing that no ordinary fourth year could do it."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Madame Maxime quirked a brow, "You think being the boy who lived makes you an extraordinary fourth year? Is this a confession?"

"This is not a confession," Harry shook his head rigorously, "I don't think I'm special but my friend Kurt put a name into the cup with minimal effort."

"Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore was seething at this point, "Go get Mr Hummel."

"Kurt's not the one who did this," Cedric swooped in to defend his boyfriend, "He'd never do that to me or to Harry."

"I'm not pointing fingers at Kurt, I know he would never break the rules this way," Harry nodded in time with Cedric, "besides, this is in cursive, Kurt doesn't write in cursive. The both of the r's are normal, Kurt only does capital r's."

"He also doesn't think you're smart enough to survive this," Cedric shrugged.

"So he's given it some thought," Professor Moody grinned, "I knew that Hummel was a bad seed."

"Kurt isn't a bad seed," Harry spoke out in defence of his friend, "there's no logical gain for Kurt to put my name into the Goblet of Fire. Besides, Kurt does everything he does exceptionally well; if he was going to be bad, he'd be the worst."

"Don't forget to mention that I'd look good doing it," Kurt cocked a hip as he stood at the top of the stairs. Kurt climbed down with his nose turned up at everyone in the room, he strolled up to Cedric and kissed him on the cheek, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Cedric beamed down at Kurt.

Kurt stepped up to Harry and he couldn't help but shrink under the boy's scrutinous gaze, "whatever am I to do with you?"

Harry shrugged, "Love me, feed me, tickle my tum?"

"You need a haircut," was all Kurt could manage to say before shaking his head and turning to the visiting champions, "Hi, it's lovely to meet you. I'm Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and I'd like to congratulate you on being selected."

"Merci," Fleur smiled at Kurt and gave a small curtsey, "you are so very beautiful."

"Oh my gosh, thank you," Kurt clutched his chest dramatically and Harry had to hold back a chuckle, "So are you."

Harry realised as he watched Kurt exchanging pleasantries with the other champions that he hadn't so much as introduced himself, Kurt would probably give him a long lecture on etiquette if he knew how he'd fallen down on the job.

"Mr Hummel," Professor Dumbledore waved him over to where the adults were congregated, "a word."

Harry watched Kurt bounce across the room, he and Professor Dumbledore had a hushed argument that ended promptly when Kurt crossed his arms and spoke a single word that Harry couldn't make out. They then turned to the room at large with broad matching smiles, "Barty, can we get Harry removed from the tournament?" Mr Crouch shook his head to the negative, "Didn't think so. After seeking council, I have come to the conclusion that Mr Potter did not put his own name into the cup and is the victim of circumstance however he is now the fourth Triwizard champion and there is nothing we can do about it."

Madame Maxime raised a curious brow, "Did you just seek council from a twelve year old?"

"I'm fourteen," Kurt corrected.

"But, yes," Professor Dumbledore nodded, "Kurt's advice is very important to me, he possesses a knack for rules that I'm yet to see matched by anyone of his age… or your age."

"Blasphemy," Madame Maxine looked appalled by what Professor Dumbledore was saying, "you never mention a woman's age."

"I suggest that we keep putting names into the cup from our schools until each school has two champions," Don Karkaroff crossed his arms indignantly.

"Can't," Kurt shrugged, "the cup is in hibernation till the next tournament."

"See," Professor Dumbledore gestured to Kurt, "he knows everything."

Kurt gave a self-satisfied smile and Harry had to stifle back a laugh, "I read."

~0~

"Okay," Harry peered at Kurt's working space to see what he had missed as his potion wasn't purple as it should be but rather it was a waxy yellow, "what did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, you never do anything wrong," Ron muttered, "you're perfect."

"Thank you Ron," Harry smiled, "but you're the last person I'd ask for help in potions if I wanted to do well."

Neville punched the air triumphantly, "promotion."

"I don't know," Kurt peered into his cauldron, "are you sure you didn't over stir the armadillo bile?"

"It would be darker if that were the case," Hermione hissed as she looked up from her perfect brew, "he probably added too much ginger root too early and that's why it's yellow instead of green."

"Silence in the back," Snape snapped at them, "ten points from Gryffindor."

"Thanks a lot Harry," Ron sulked, crossing his arms.

"Ronald," Kurt lifted the goggles he'd taken to wearing to all their 'outdoorsy' classes since that mandrake had thrown dirt in his eye in their second year, "did you by chance notice that you have had a problem with each of us and decided to not speak to each as a result, now a more gracious observer might sympathise with you and wish you'd picked your friends better but I personally think there's something wrong with you." Harry gaped as he watched Kurt telling Ron off, "you are after all the constant in these cases and therefore one might be able to deduce that you should be the one to change your behaviour."

"I know whose side you're on," Ron crossed his arms angrily, "I'll be sure to tell Cedric."

Kurt poured a class of his potion and handed it to Ron, "this will temporarily make you smart enough to stop talking out the side of your neck."

"If you, Mr Hummel," Professor Snape looked up from his desk, "have managed to brew a wit-sharpening potion of such a high quality that it can make Weasley smart, I will end this class early."

"Making Ron smart enough to realise that he's wrong will need a perfect brew," Hermione pointed out.

"I guess I need to keep working on this then," Neville grumbled as he returned to working on his solidified brew.

"A little faith would be nice," Kurt crossed his arms angrily, "I may not be the best potioneer in the class but I am amazing at following instructions and these were pretty clear."

Harry watched on as Kurt pulled out his wand but Snape intervened, "No need to confound Weasley, he's sufficiently dim all on his own."

"Hey," Ron protested as he took a sip of the yellow liquid, "I don't feel any smarter."

"How would you know what smart feels like Weasley?" Draco scoffed.

"As somebody who experiences a limited scope of intelligence I'm able to extrapolate and deduce what true intellect must feel like," Ron beamed, "this is what Hermione and Kurt must feel like all the time, no wonder you're so full of yourselves."

"Hemmingway said that it was not noble to believe yourself better than your peers," Hermione pointed out with a small smile.

"Obviously Hemmingway would say something that daft," Kurt scoffed, "he was a drunk, he couldn't think he was better than anyone."

"I've deemed this brew satisfactory to rid me of you," Professor Snape let out a haggard breath, "you may go, ten points Mr Hummel."

"He made Weasley smart," Pansy Parkinson protested, "only ten points? Stingy!"

"Twenty points," Professor Snape rolled his eyes as if he wasn't happy to be awarding points to his own house.

"Did Pansy Parkinson just stick up for Kurt?" Hermione's mouth flapped open and closed as she tried to make sense of what was happening, "what's the world coming to?"

"Remember how they were once spreading salacious rumours about us?" Kurt quirked a brow.

"I remember," Neville grumbled, "let the record reflect that I only made out with Finn, nothing more."

"We believe you Neville," Harry teased.

"It doesn't sound like you believe me," Neville eyed Harry suspiciously.

"I believe you because we didn't go further than that," Hermione explained.

"I didn't go further than that with Harry either," Finn peered into their circle.

Kurt's eyes went wide and Harry worried for Finn's health, "you've listened to that Ella Fitzgerald song too many times."

"I taught him everything he knows," Finn crooned merrily as he got out of Kurt's swinging range.

Kurt pointed an angry finger at his brother, "stop making out with my friends or I'll make out with your friends and all your little quidditch team mates too."

"And I will respect you for it," Finn shouted back, "just like I respect you for getting Cedric to let go his whole chastity thing."

Harry's jaw went slack, Kurt flushed, Neville chuckled and Hermione wagged a suggestive brow, "You can't shout things like that, it'll give people the wrong idea."

"What?" Finn called out, gesturing to his ears, "I can't hear you."

"I know you can hear me," Kurt scolded, "you just responded."

Harry was beyond being scandalised by the Hudson-Hummel siblings, he'd come to accept them for all that they were, "That happened."

"Let the record reflect that while I may have gotten Cedric to let go of his inhibitions," Kurt squared up with the trio, "I have not taken his chastity… yet."

"Ten points to Slytherin," Neville whispered as he whipped away imaginary tears of joy.

"You were explaining about Pansy Parkinson being nice to you," Hermione giggled, "can she smell the pure-blood on you?"

"Funny but no. It's actually quite simple, what might have been construed as scandalous in second year," Kurt flashed them a devilish smile, "makes you wildly popular in fourth year."

Hermione shook her head, "I knew puberty would ruin the world."

"Harry, Harry, Harry," he turned to see Colin bouncing excitedly toward him.

"Hide me," Harry tried to duck but it was far too late, he'd been spotted.

"You should consider treating your fans as well as I treat mine," Kurt chuckled before stepping between him and Colin, "how can we help you?"

"I have a message for Harry," Colin tried to peer around his human shield but Kurt moved swiftly, blocking his every move.

"Mr Potter isn't entertaining guests at present," Kurt raised a cautionary brow and Harry knew the small boy was in for it, "Why aren't you in class?"

"Because I was sent with a message for Harry Potter," Colin crossed his arms, clearly unaware of who he was dealing with.

"And who sent you with this message?"

"Mr Bagman," Colin furrowed his brow.

"Mr Bagman doesn't teach at Hogwarts, he doesn't have the authority to pull you out of class," Kurt smirked, "which subject are you supposed to be having?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I could always ask my boyfriend, the prefect," Kurt pursed his lips, "or my good friend Professor Dumbledore."

Colin swallowed a lump, "I'm supposed to be in History of Magic. I just came to tell Harry that Mr Bagman wanted him for a photoshoot and wand weighing ceremony in the trophy room adjacent to the great hall."

"I'll pass your message on," Kurt pointed down the corridor, "Back to History of Magic before I have you thrown in detention."

"You know Kurt," Hermione grinned at her best friend, "you have a way with kids I don't think I've ever seen replicated anywhere."

"I hate kids and you know it," Kurt crossed his arms indignantly.

"And I'm sure kids hate you," Harry teased, "see you guys later, I have celebrity work to do."

"I love you but please die," Neville shouted as he waved Harry off with raised middle finger.

Harry walked as slowly as he could to the trophy room, hoping that by the time he got there they would be done. Unfortunately he arrived to find that they'd been waiting for his arrival to begin.

Harry was blinded by the flash of the camera as soon as he walked through the door, Mr Bagman swung an arm over his shoulder, "Ah, Harry my boy. You're here and now we can begin."

"No," Harry unhooked the man's arm from his shoulder, "we're not doing this touching thing."

"You're a funny little bugger," the man chuckled, "Now, we have Mr Ollivander here to check if your wands are up to code."

"Afternoon Mr Ollivander," Harry shook the man's hand with a questioning glance, "who is watching your shop if you're here?"

"Still asking the hard questions Mr Potter," Mr Ollivander chuckled.

Harry quirked a brow, "you obviously have me confused with the other dark haired boy with glasses, but then again Kurt is more famous for making demands than asking questions." Harry turned to his fellow champions, each flanked by their respective headmaster; he shook Fleur Delacour's hand and then kissed Madame Maxime ring as he apologised for being late, "I also wish I wasn't here."

"Oh but you are funny," Madame Maxime smiled as she snatched her hand back, "We cannot change what already is, so I say what will been will be."

Harry then shook the hand of Viktor Krum, "sorry for keeping you waiting, I just found out about this whole event and like with the rest of this tournament, I had not planned to participate."

Viktor Krum gave him a fierce scowl, "why do I not get my hand kissed?"

"Forgive me," Harry shrugged, "I was raised in a cave."

Don Karkaroff refused to shake his hand on the grounds that he was a cheat, Harry didn't waste his breath defending himself. Cedric shook his hand and shrugged, "Kurt says you didn't put your name in the cup." Cedric flashed him a million dollar smile, "he also said it doesn't matter if you did."

"Young Viktor is correct," Professor Dumbledore held out a hand with long thin fingers, "Let us not discriminate, kiss the ring."

Harry gave a bashful smile, "is this Bvlgari?"

"As a matter of fact it is," Professor Dumbledore smiled, "you have a good eye."

"Not really," Harry chuckled, "Kurt told me to ask if ever the opportunity presented itself, said there was a tale about the founder gifting it to you."

Professor Dumbledore shook his head, "Another time."

"Another country," Harry heard himself saying unexpectedly.

Cedric rolled his eyes, "don't tell me you're saying that now as well."

"I'd never said it till now," Harry shrugged.

"Let's have Ladies first," Mr Bagman wagged his brow at Fleur as he spoke.

Fleur stepped up to Mr Ollivander and handed him an ornately carved wand. Harry watched on as the man eyed the wand, gave it slight wave and shook his head.

"What is wrong?" Fleur demanded.

"This wand is Veela hair," Mr Ollivander explained as if shocked by this discovery.

"Oui," Fleur crossed her arms indignantly, "it is a hair from my Grand-Mère."

Harry couldn't equate Fleur with the Veela from the world cup, she didn't have the same effect on him as they did; he supposed that she might have just been part-veela as he still thought she was supernaturally beautiful.

"Veela hair makes for temperamental wands, that is why I don't use it in my wand making," the wand maker's tone was matter-of-fact, "the combination of veela hair with rosewood has made for an inflexible wand but it should suffice in the hands of its master."

"Diggory," Mr Bagman gestured for Cedric to take centre stage, "up and at 'em."

Cedric handed his wand over and Mr Ollivander smiled, "this is one of mine and it's in good shape, must be well cared for."

"Polished it last night," Cedric smiled, clearly glad that his efforts had been noted.

"Oh yes," Mr Ollivander smiled to himself, "the unicorn I plucked this hair from was a tall, strapping male not unlike you've grown to be and the combination with ash makes it nice and springy. You must excel in transfiguration."

"He's the best we've had since Professor McGonagall herself was a student," Professor Dumbledore interjected with a smile, causing Cedric to blush, "We've been trying to convince him to begin animagus training but he views the skill as superfluous."

"This wand is more than suitable and is in very capable hands," Mr Ollivander smiled fulsomely.

"Harry, my boy," Mr Bagman gave him a broad grin and his inner Kurt wanted to tell the man that they were not friends but he repressed that voice, it was not useful in this situation.

Harry fished his wand out of his robes and handed it to the grey haired man, "another one of mine, not as well kept." All Harry could do was grumble a nonsensical reply, "Phoenix tail feather, Holly, nice and supple. How's his charms?"

Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore shrug, "meh."

"This wand is suitable for use," Mr Ollivander relented upon learning that Harry wasn't a stellar charms student.

"Viktor Krum," Mr Bagman seemed as enthusiastic to welcome the Bulgarian seeker as he was when he'd welcomed Harry.

"Ah, Gregorovitch," Mr Ollivander smiled broadly as he received the curved wand, "my old friend."

"Yes," Viktor gave shy smile that threw Harry for a loop, "I was one of the last people to buy one."

"His work was excellent right until his retirement," Mr Ollivander was beaming as he sniffed the wand, "Hornbeam, Dragon Heartstring and thicker than usual- rigid." The old man nodded to himself, "I suspect you know your way around a hex and a jinx and a curse or two."

"He was top of his year in his Dark Arts standardised test," Don Karkaroff gloated.

Mr Ollivander nodded, "this wand is more than suitable." He handed Viktor back his wand, "With that I wish you all the best and bid you a due."

Harry watched the headmaster lead the man out the door, they were followed by the Madame Maxime and Don Karkaroff. They were left alone with Ludo Bagman, a tiny blond woman and a photographer, "This is Rita Skeeter." Mr Bagman explained as he grouped them together for a photo, "and I will leave you in her charge."

"Four champions, four stories," The small blond woman smiled broadly as Mr Bagman left, "What thoughts are brooding beneath those muscles? What secrets are hidden by that ridiculous mop of hair? What makes each Triwizard Champion tick? My readers and I would like to know." She grabbed Harry by the arm, "I'll speak to the youngest first."

She pulled Harry into a broom closet that she'd converted into a mini office of sorts, "hi."

"Hi, you don't mind if I use a quick quotes quill, do you?" Rita Skeeter didn't wait for a reply, "now, what would make a young boy of twelve like yourself enter such a dangerous tournament?"

"I'm actually fourteen," Harry corrected her, "and I didn't enter."

"Right," Rita Skeeter winked at him but he wasn't sure why, "Is it true your friend Kurt Hummel entered your name for you?"

"What? No!" Harry crossed his arms, "Kurt has nothing to do with this."

"Touchy subject," she gave him a devious smile, "Are you not afraid that the older champions will not only have you outclassed with skill but also with emotional maturity."

"I can't really do anything about that now, can I?" Harry's irritation was showing and he wished he wasn't allowing her to bait him like she was.

"Now, let's talk about your parents," Rita Skeeter leaned forward, "were they alive today, would they be supportive of you entering such a dangerous tournament or would they be worried about your fragrant disregard for the rules."

"Okay," Harry got to his feet, "I'm done."

"Already?" the blond woman quirked a brow, "but we were just getting started, "I still have so much to ask. Surely you wouldn't want me to make the rest up."

"You're making it up anyway," Harry shrugged, "I won't legitimise this interview with my presence."

"As a lazy tailor would say," Rita Skeeter shrugged, "suit yourself."

~0~

Viktor:

Harry stormed out of the broom closet and an irritated looking mousy woman waved Viktor over, he approached with caution, "Good morning Madam."

"Hi Hotstuff," She smiled up at him and gestured for him to take a seat in what he was guessing was a make shift office, "let's start with your exercise regimen, how do you keep those biceps so… scrumptious?"

Viktor was a little taken aback by how forward the blond lady was being, "well, every morning I do a set of push-ups and pull-ups. I also lift weights."

"Lift weights?" She raised a questioning eyebrow, "how much do you bench? Could you bench me?"

Viktor took a moment before answering, "It would not be effective because I bench too much more than you weigh."

"Hmm," the tiny woman gave him a salacious grin, "are you as ripped everywhere?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Rita lowered her voice to a whisper, "Are all your… muscles impressive?"

"How is this relevant?"

"Well, my readers would like to know what kind of shape the champions are in," she reclined in her seat, "it'll inform who they choose to support."

"As a professional sportsman my body is, to some degree, my instrument," Viktor agreed, "but I also have great magical skills like the flying and I received very high marks in my transfiguration, dark arts, spell casting and potion brewing standardised tests."

"That's nice," Viktor realised that the woman was not paying attention to what he was saying.

"Why are you not writing any of this down?"

"It's all up here," she pointed to her empty looking head, "now, how do you feel about the surprise entry of Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter," Viktor shrugged, "I'm not intimidated, the more the merrier."

"I somehow had a feeling you would say something boring like that," the woman let out a defeated sigh, "I guess I have to do everything myself. You may go."

~0~

Cedric:

"Handsome," Rita Skeeter waved him over, "this is probably the interview that I'm most looking forward to."

"It is?" Cedric quirked a curious brow, a habit he'd picked up from Kurt, "I'd have thought Harry's surprise entrance would be the story of the news cycle. Not that I'm not flattered."

"Oh, you're so modest," she let out a little chuckle, "Firstly, let's talk about the hair. How do you get it so perfect?"

"Kurt got me this organic hairspray," Cedric shrugged, hair was such an odd thing to discuss but Kurt had told him to remain gracious for the entirety of the interview and answer as honestly as possible, "it all just sort of stays in place after that."

"Speaking of Kurt…"

"I thought we were discussing my hair," Cedric was now on the defensive, "I don't want to talk about Kurt."

"Oh," Rita Skeeter leaned forward curiously "why is that? Trouble in paradise?"

"No, you just portray him in an unflattering light," Cedric crossed his arms, "you're always printing lies about him and as such he's out of bounds."

"Little old me? Print lies?" Rita Skeeter's tone was patronising, "there's no evidence that says the things I print aren't true."

"The fact that you change your story every now and again is indicative of the fact that your stories are fabricated," Cedric barked angrily, "besides, everyone knows how far from the truth you really are."

"Is that so?"

"If you knew Kurt then you would know that he is thoughtful and Kind, he's caring and gentle," Cedric shook his head, "and he's the smartest person I've ever met, maybe baring Hermione Granger."

"That's sweet," she gave him a saccharine smile, "but if I printed that, I'd be out of a job. My readers don't want to know how shy and sentimental Kurt Hummel is, they want to know whether he's the next dark lord. They want to know where he came from, what his life's dreams are, who he's murdered."

Cedric scoffed, "how would you know the answer to that, you've never even spoken to him."

"Would you get me an interview?"

"Kurt would probably set himself on fire before speaking to you," Cedric chuckled.

She quirked a brow, "I'd pay money to see that."

"So would Kurt," Cedric chuckled.

"How long have you two been a thing?"

"A year at the end of November," Cedric smiled.

"And how would you describe his relationship with Harry Potter?"

"Their good friends," Cedric shrugged, "they sometimes just talk to each other in Parseltongue, it's their thing."

"And you aren't worried you might lose your boyfriend to a more famous wizard?"

"I'm probably more likely to lose him to Hermione Granger," Cedric chuckled, "they don't even need words."

"Hermione Granger?" Rita Skeeter smiled menacingly, "I think we just made the front page."

"You can't print any of this," Cedric scoffed, "it's mostly nonsensical garbage, where's the story?"

"Not exactly garbage," Rita Skeeter wagged a finger, "this is some interesting stuff and it will make quite the story, maybe even two articles. I'm going to let you in on a secret, it takes an artist to make it in journalism."

"Two articles? Based on what?" Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion, "you didn't ask any real questions. Is it all going to be fabricated?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about me," Rita Skeeter giggled as she shooed him off, "I'm a real journalist and I know what I'm doing."

~0~

Fleur:

"I guess I'll be seeing you as well," the short journalist woman groaned as she leaned out of the broom closet, "come along."

"Bonjour, I am Fleur Delacour," Fleur gave a polite smile but the woman did not reciprocate.

"So," she seemed to be doing this out of duty rather than the enthusiasm she had shown the others, "you're the rose among the thorns?"

"Oui," Fleur tried to keep her demeanour sunny despite the contempt she was receiving from the journalist, "I am the only girl."

"What does a pretty girl like you want from such a dangerous event?"

"I would like very much to win," Fleur nodded firmly, "I want to prove that the girls have what it takes to stand on par with the boys."

"That's cute," the woman flashed her a condescending smile, "a little suffragette. And what does the little feminist think of Harry Potter's last minute entrance into the tournament?"

"I think it is so very appalling," Fleur crossed her arms, "he has no place in this tournament. Why should Hogwarts get two champions but not Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?"

"That's enough for now," the woman was packing her things away.

"Do you not want to ask me about my strategy?"

"Not really," and with that she was out the door.

~0~

Harry:

Harry watched in awe as Kurt rubbed gently circles into the side of his neck with a toothbrush whilst looking at himself in the mirror, "I've never seen a toothbrush used like that."

"It is an effective remedy for love bites," Kurt put the toothbrush down and grabbed a compact and started to put powder on the dark spot above his collar bone.

"Why do you let Cedric brand you like livestock if it takes so much effort to cover it up?" Hermione rolled her eyes as she looked over the piles of make-up that Kurt was using.

"Firstly, he does not brand me," Kurt rolled his eyes right back at her, "Secondly, I'm only covering it up because I don't think it's appropriate for school but on the whole I wouldn't really mind walking around with the love bites visible for all to see if there wasn't the threat of Professor McGonagall seeing and disapproving." Kurt switched compacts to a colour that looked exactly the same to Harry, "Thirdly, it is an act of mutual sexual pleasure."

"Are you sure it isn't painful," Hermione eyed him suspiciously, "it is a bruise for all intents and purposes."

"Sometimes pain is pleasure," Kurt shrugged.

"I did not just hear that," Hermione grimaced and Harry couldn't help laughing.

"You know lions have spikey penises and lionesses still let them bone," Luna stated with a shrug as she twirled her pale golden hair between her fingers, "why not humans?"

Kurt was flustered for a moment before nodding, "I wasn't taking it quite that far but Luna has a point."

"You get used to being right when you're Luna," Harry chuckled.

Neville let out wilful sigh, "what would I give if just for a day I could get used to always being right?"

"It's not as fun as it sounds," Hermione shook her head.

"People come to resent you for it," Kurt mirrored the movement whilst applying a flesh coloured balm to his neck.

"People like to get worked up," Harry grumbled, "I'm just glad we're missing most of breakfast because I'm getting tired of the sly remarks and Cedric's fanbase loving him by hating me."

"Harry," Luna jumped down from where she'd been sitting indian style atop a basin and grabbed his hand, he smiled, "meet Hermione, Kurt and Neville, I'm Luna Lovegood."

"Luna," Harry was confused by what she was doing, "I know all of you."

"Well, you don't seem to be acting like it," she scolded him, "We will do nothing but support you but what we need is for you to open yourself to receiving said support." Harry was almost certain that if it had been somebody less docile giving him this talking to they might have grabbed him by the ear, "you need to realise that the people who matter don't care, and the people who care don't matter."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Hermione nodded her support of Luna's statement.

Kurt shrugged, "I could try to say it better but it wouldn't really be necessary." Kurt stood back from the mirror and eyed him, "Perfect, now maybe Professor McGonagall might not ask my about my beau."

"Did she actually call him that?" Neville giggled.

"She did!"

"I can't imagine it," Harry chuckled, "thank you Luna, I guess you take for granted what you actually have."

"We'll forgive you on one condition," Kurt turned to him with a devilish grin, "Kiss the ring."

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!