Title: Truth behind the name and the lies pt.4
Pairings: DracoxHarry, twincest, OliverxPercy, RemusxSeverus, CharliexBlaise,ViktorxHermione, future BillxFleur. Future Stalker Ginny! Seamus and Colin *hides*
Fandom : HP
Notes: An abused boy finds out he's a wizard and a hero; his tormented mind rebels. One person sees through the misconceptions to the real Harry and treats him the way he deserves. How does this change them both and those around them.

Chapter 17- Weighing of the Wands

And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on Harry's thoughts.

It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at Harry, and walked up to Severus' desk at the front of the room.

"Yes?" Severus said curtly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

Severus stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.

"Potter has another hour of Potions to complete," Severus coldly. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished."

Colin went pink. "Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs…"

Harry would have given anything he owned to have stopped Colin saying those last few words; papa and Draco's reaction when Colin wanted to take his picture before was still clear in his mind..

"Very well," Snape snapped, his voice softened when he looked at his son, "Harry, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, sir. he's got to take his things with him," Colin squeaked . "All the champions…"

"Draco, cast stasis charms on your potions. I'll be up as soon as I can. Hopefully, Lucius will be there. I don't like publicly. I guess you'll have to take your bag."

Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and headed for the door.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment Draco had closed the dungeon door behind him. "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"

"No it isn't. I didn't want this at all." said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"

"The Daily Prophet, I think!"

Draco stiffened, "They'll have to wait for us. Harry needs permission from his Head of House for interviews. We'll have to firecall Aunt Annie."

Colin protested, "Mr. Bagman said."

Draco held Harry's hand, "You are a Muggle-born, surely there are things you need parental permission for correct?" he led them to Uncle Severus' office, "Lavender Vale." he said as he tossed floo powder into the fireplace and stuck his head in, "AUnt Annie?"

"Draco darling is that you?"

"Yes, father told you about Harry being entered in the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Yes, terrible thing?"

"Is that Draco?"

Harry called out, "Hi Uncle Teddy."

"Harry dear, how are you holding up? Have you talked to your healer about this?"

Harry blushed, "Not yet. I slept through my last session."

Draco squeezed Harry's hand, "They want to interveiw him about the Tournament."

"Of course they do."

"Well, Harry isn't of age. We need your permission to participate."

Andromeda chuckled, "Of course. I'll be right through."

Draco and harry moved away from the Fireplace.

Two minutes later, Andromeda stepped out, "Well, we best be on our way. I'll look after you."

Draco smiled, "Thanks Aunt Annie."

Andromeda turned the tiny lion, "Lead the way, young man."

Colin led them to the right room, "Good luck!" Colin said when they had reached it.

Andromeda knocked on the door and entered. "

It was 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 Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.

Andromeda's eyes narrowed, "Skeeter. What is she doing here? This isn't her type of story."

Viktor was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody.

Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; 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 Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward. "Ah, here he is! Champion number four!"

Andromeda stepped between them, "Why was I not informed? Harry is under age and I am the Head of the House of Black and the custodian of his estate. He is under my authority."

"Mistress Black, it is not a serious event. Surely, it's nothing to fuss about. It's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment -"

"Regardless, I still should have been informed. Surely, you remember that underage wizards require the consent of the Head of their family to participate in interviews and have their photo taken. I resent the implication that I wasn't needed to be informed. In light of the insult, I have half a mind to forbid Harry's interview."

Bagman held out his hands, "My apologizes Mistress Black, but as a Champion he is required to participate."

Percy walked into the room, "Actually, he is only required to attend the Wand Weighing. The rules do not state he must participate in the interview."

Lucius snickered, "I am surprised you didn't think to inform Mistress Black about the Ceremony. I tried to catch her at the Ministry myself."

"We simply must have an interview with our youngest Champion."

Andromeda's eyes narrowed, "I request the long held tradition of pure bloods, I want to oversee the interview and read it before publishing."

Rita Skeeter waved her hand dismissively, "As you wish Mistress Black."

"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," Percy nodded, a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "The expert's upstairs now with McGonagall I'm sure I so them. Like you heard there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet…"

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry. 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 crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know, to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is, if Harry has no objection?"

"I do and that's what matters." Andromeda growled. "I agree on conditions, I am present and you will NOT use a Quick Quotes Quill. I have get authorize questions, you will wrint only what Harry says, no exaggeration

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door before Andromeda or Draco could stop her.

"We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she said. "Let's see… ah, yes, this is nice and cozy."

Harry gulped, shaking slightly as he wrenched away from her and tossed himself into Draco's arms.

Draco was furious, why here? He hated cupboards, he associated them with his abusive childhood.

"Come along, dear - that's right - lovely," said Rita Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket and closing the door, throwing them into darkness. "Let's see now…" She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair, so that they could see what they were doing.

"Aunt Annie, what's a Quick Quotes Quill?" Harry asked softly.

"A Quick-Quotes Quill is a quill that writes exaggerated answers to interview questions. It interprets what a person is saying to what it thinks should be written, often resulting in mere sensationalism. At least that is what Rita Skeeter's detractors would say, of course she is a professional and would never dream of such things."

Rita Skeeter's smile took a strained look, at the comment.

Harry counted three gold teeth.

She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill before before returning it to her bag exchanging it for a Peacock feather quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the peacock quill into her mouth, glaring at it, before placed it upright on the parchment and tapping it, "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter. Interview with Harry Potter, the unexpected Fourth Triwizard Champion."

Harry looked down quickly at the quill.

Rita Skeeter scribbled down her own words, a slight grimace in her gaze. "Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, as she leaned toward Harry and said, "So, Harry, what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"I didn't enter. Didn't see the point of the Tournament." Harry protested from Draco's arms. Even though he wasn't speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence:

An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes –

"Excuse me, Ms. Skeeter. Stick the facts."

"Ignore the quill, Harry," Rita Skeeter said firmly.

Reluctantly Harry looked up at her instead.

"Now be honest why did you decide to enter the tournament, Harry?"

"I didn't," Harry protested. "I don't know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn't put it in there."

Rita Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow. "Come now, Harry, there's no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn't really have entered at all. But don't worry about that. Our readers love a rebel."

"But I didn't enter, Papa's age line wouldn't have let me in." Harry repeated. "I don't know who -"

"If I did know, I would drag them over hot coals, beat them with a snake and boil them in a boil creating Potion.

"Young Master Malfoy, you're not being interviewed. How do you feel about the tasks ahead?" said Rita Skeeter. "Excited? Nervous?"

"Terrified. I didn't sign up for this. I don't want any part of the Tournament. I want out and because of some evil git I'm trapped by a magical contract that I have to die to get out of. I just wanted to have a safe and sane year." said Harry. His insides squirmed uncomfortably as he spoke, he was feeling ill again.

"Champions have died in the past, haven't they?" said Rita Skeeter briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"

"I told you, I don't want to be a part of this farce. I'm not a hero or a champion, I'm just Harry. I want to get out of this, I don't want to participate" Harry said quietly.

The quill kept scribbling away

"Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you?" Rita Skeeter said, watching him closely. "How would you say that's affected you?"

Draco felt Harry stiffen, and he held him close, "Not part of the Tournament. As Harry's beau I insist you keep the topic of the interview to the Tournament."

"Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because - "

"We said he didn't enter." Draco growled, starting to feel irritated. He was wanted to hex her tongue and fingers off.

"Can you remember your parents at all?" said Rita Skeeter, talking over him.

"I don't remember them and I don't care." Harry said quietly, "I have papa and Remus, Draco, Narcissa, Lucius, Aunt Annie, Nymphadora and my friends. I have a family to replace the parents I don't remember."

"How do you think they'd feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

Harry was feeling really annoyed now. "I don't care what they would have thought, I didn't enter. My mother would be proud her Bearding jinx was used in the age line to show who tried to cheat. Mother would have been furious someone entered me without my consent. As for my Father, I'm sure he'd be stupid and convinced I cheated somehow. He had no respect for rules or people's feelings. He would have tried to enter just because he was told he couldn't. I'm not like that. I prefer to stay out of trouble." He could feel Rita Skeeter watching him very intently. Frowning, he avoided her gaze and hooked down at words the quill had just written:

Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our conversation turns to the parents he can barely remember.

"Harry does NOT have tears in his eyes!" Draco said loudly.

Before Rita Skeeter could say a word, Andromeda snapped, "That's it. We're done here. All you've done is accuse him of cheating without proof and upset him." she snatched up the quill and the parchment, drawing thick lines through the parts that weren't accurately recorded. "I won't be allowing Harry to sit for any more interviews if you can't follow the rules of common decency. Come on Draco, let's get Harry out of this closet and get come air.

"Very well! I can see you have no respect for journalism." Rita Skeeter cried, with every appearance of pained resignation but Harry noticed that her quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Rita's clawed fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her crocodile-skin bag.

The door opened and Severus stood there, his eyes widened at Harry's shaking form. He was very distraught, "I'm afraid the Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard."

Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Harry leapt into his papa's arms, "Papa. I don't want interviews anymore. Please, Aunt Annie, don't let them interview me anymore.

Severus glared at Rita Skeeter and held Harry close, "You're okay. We need to go join the other champions alright?"

Harry nodded, "Okay."

Draco took one hand and Severus the other as they led him away from the broom cupboard.

The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat down quickly between Cedric and Viktor, hooking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting; Lucius and Percy were sitting off to the side observing. Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman.

Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Harry saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the acid green Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it more on the parchment.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" McGonagall said, taking her 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."

Harry hooked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Harry had met Mr. Ollivander before, he hadn't liked him then either. Ollivander was the wand-maker from whom Harry had bought his own wand over three years ago in Diagon Alley.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Mr. Ollivander said, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmm…" 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 chose 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."

So Fleur was part veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Blaise… then he remembered that Blaise wasn't at Hogwart's.

"Yes," Mr. Ollivander said, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental 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, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," Mr. Ollivander said, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Mr. Ollivander said, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn, why it must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches… ash… pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition, you treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

Harry looked down at his own wand, Draco had taught him to care for his wand properly, they polished it twice a week. It had been polished Sunday night and he carried it in a side holder since he'd lost it during the riot. He stored it in a little wand case at night that he kept next to their bed, both of which had been presents from his boyfriend.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor got up, hunched over and barely managing not to trip as he shuffled over towards Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," Mr. Ollivander said, "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. "Rather thicker than one usually sees, quite rigid, ten and a quarter inches… Avis!"

The hornbeam 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.

"Good," Mr. Ollivander said, handing Krum back his wand. "Which leaves… Mr. Potter."

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," Mr. Ollivander said, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Harry could remember too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday…

Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had entered Mr. Ollivander's shop with Hagrid to buy a wand. Mr. Ollivander had taken his measurements and then started handing him wands to try. Harry had waved what felt like every wand in the shop, until at last he had found the one that suited him - this one, which was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix and a dragon heart string. Mr. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand. "Curious," he had said, "curious," and not until Harry asked what was curious had Mr. Ollivander explained that the phoenix feather in Harry's wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Lord Voldemort's and the dragon that gave heartstring for Draco's blackthorn wand also gave one to the only duel core wand.

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort's wand was something it couldn't help. He preferred to remember that it was a brother to Draco's rather as he couldn't help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn't about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. 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. .

"Thank you all," McGonagall said, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons 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, Harry got up to leave, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Headmistress, photos!" Bagman excitedly cried. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er - yes, let's do those first," Rita Skeeter said, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

The photographs took a long time. 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.

Viktor, whom Harry would have thought would have been 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 forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence.

Until Andromeda through a fit, "Absolutely not, he may be the smallest but he deserves better then to be treated like a wizard-created creature to be gawked at. I insist you treat them equally."

Then Rita Skeeter insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.

Andromeda placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Come on. Let's go out to dinner. We need to get you out of this place."

Draco smiled, "He needs that. To get out of here and away from this circus."

Severus smiled, "If Remus can come, we'll gladly accept your offer."

Lucius smirked, "Narcissa is having supper with Charlie and Blaisé so I am free."

Percy bowed slightly, "It's my night to cook so I have to go home. I'll see you at the Manor tomorrow morning."

Lucius nodded, "Make it Ten. I want to try to meet with Charlie first."

Percy left.

They went as a family to dinner,

Harry fell asleep in his dessert and Draco had to carry him home.