It was exactly a week after Harry and Sirius's conversation with the Weasley Twins' about Ludo Bagman that they all met back in the Room of Requirement.

Fred and George sat beside each other on the couch and stared at Sirius hopefully. "What did Bagman say?"

Sirius grinned reassuringly at them. "Well, first things first, I wrote to Fawley House and Shafig's Wagers, both of which are official gambling institutions and asked them about the odds they had given for Ireland winning and Krum catching the snitch. How much Leprechaun gold did you say that Ludo gave you?"

"One hundred and fifty Galleons." Fred answered him eagerly.

"Right, well, according to both Fawley's and Shafig's he ought to have given you closer to three hundred and fifty Galleons." Sirius told them with a grin. "Which, if he had been honest with you from the start, wouldn't have been a problem. As the taker of the bet, he had the right to give you whatever odds he wanted, but since he's tried to steal from you I will be holding him to the official odds."

Fred and George's eyes widened in disbelief. "Three hundred and fifty Galleons?!"

"Plus an additional one hundred Galleons for having held onto your money for the last two months." Sirius added, his expression firm.

"Bloody hell!" Fred swore. "Four hundred and fifty Galleons?"

George looked shell-shocked.

"I spoke to Ludo about it a few days ago," Sirius continued, his eyes hard. "And, after a long conversation, he has agreed to pay you the full amount. Unfortunately, he is having some money flow problems at the moment so it may take him a while to gather it all together. I know that it's not ideal, but I am happy to lend you some Galleons in the meantime."

"Oh, no you don't!" Harry denied quickly. "I'm going to be their backer, not you!"

Sirius looked amused. "Really?"

"Really!" Harry nodded determinedly. "The House of Potter found them first! Right, George? Fred?"

Fred and George were both still looking shell shocked. "Four hundred and fifty Galleons?"

"I'll tell you what, Harry." Sirius decided. "We can both put in a proposal to be their backer and then the twins will be able to choose which one of us they prefer."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, but I'm sure they'll choose their friend over an old man."

Sirius put his hand to his chest and gasped dramatically. "I'm hurt. Though, I wouldn't be so sure about that. You don't think they would rather have one of the original Marauders as their backer? Let alone the man who singlehandedly recovered four hundred and fifty Galleons for them?"

Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise. "No fair! I met them first!"

19-19-19

The next week went by relatively normally. Harry and Daphne were still exchanging letters with each other, averaging about one letter every second day. Their letters, while still formal, had begun to be a little more relaxed and Harry was enjoying the opportunity to get to know her better. Most of the school had gotten used to the letters, but a few of the girls were still staring at Harry with love struck eyes whenever they saw him and some of the boys were still angry that the girls were staring at him. Ron Weasley was one of the angry boys, but he seemed to have lost a lot of his steam after having received two months of detention for threatening Harry in Charms Class.

Harry's duelling lesson with Sirius went much better than the previous one. Sirius was still beating Harry easily, but Harry felt as though he was getting a lot better at casting spells quickly and silently. Not only that, but he had learnt five new Parselmagic spells and was feeling much more comfortable at the idea of casting them.

George and Luna were still joining Harry, Neville and Takashi for their weekly wandless practise and, much to Harry's surprise, this week Daphne joined them as well. It was strange practising with a larger group, but it was nice to be able share it with more of his friends. Harry was still working on the Shielding Charm – he had definitely been right about the fifth year spell taking longer to learn, he hadn't even managed to consistently cast the spell while meditating yet.

Everything was going so normally that, aside from the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students floating around the castle, he sometimes found himself forgetting that he had been entered into the Triwizard Tournament against his will. But on Friday, a third year Gryffindor student, pulled him out of Ancient Runes to attend the Official Wand Weighing Ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament. It was something Harry had been expecting, Sirius had warned him that it was coming, but Harry couldn't help but be frustrated that they had pulled him out of class for it. Couldn't they have done it during lunch or after classes? Hadn't they thought about his education at all?

The Gryffindor, who enthusiastically introduced himself as Colin Creevy, led Harry to a small classroom. The desks in the classroom had been pushed to the back of the room. There were some desks, side by side, that had a red velvet cover over them and Ludo Bagman was sitting on one of the five chairs behind the desks and talking to a witch who Harry recognised as being Rita Skeeter.

Harry couldn't remember how he knew that she was Rita Skeeter, but he presumed that Sirius must have pointed her out to him at some point. Harry definitely remembered some of Skeeter's articles – they tended to border on slanderous.

Skeeter was wearing bright pink robes, which not only made her look ridiculous, but were the exact shade of magenta that represented the Most Ancient and Noble House of Odgen – clearly Skeeter wasn't traditional.

The only other people in the room were the two Beauxbatons' Champions: Fleur Delacour and Aceline Moreau. The two witches were standing on opposite sides of the room and pointedly ignoring one another – it was almost amusing. Both witches looked up when Harry entered and curtsied prettily – Harry thought that Fleur's curtsey was a lot more graceful than Aceline's though.

"Merry meet, Mr. Potter." Fleur greeted him, her accent heavy.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle." Harry returned with a nod, before continuing in French. "I trust you are enjoying your stay here?"

Fleur's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You speak French, Monsieur?"

"Of course." Harry replied in French. "Should I be offended that you did not believe me educated enough to be able to do so?"

"Non, Monsieur." Fleur replied quickly, shaking her head so that her long silver hair flew into the hair. "My apologies."

"You are forgiven." Harry allowed with a smile as Cedric arrived.

"Merry meet, Harry." Cedric bowed to Harry, before nodding to both Fleur and Aceline who had curtsied to him.

"Merry meet." Harry agreed. "How are you?"

"Great!" Cedric smiled widely.

Harry turned to Fleur. "I presume you have been introduced to Cedric?"

"Oui." Fleur smiled prettily at Cedric. "Do you speak French also, Monsieur?"

"Oui," Cedric answered with wide eyes. "Of course."

Fleur looked faintly surprised. "Is this common among Hogwarts' students?"

"Non." Cedric replied easily.

"Zen I am impressed." Fleur smiled prettily.

Harry moved away, already feeling like a third, and much younger, wheel.

"Ignore her." Aceline told him suddenly in French.

Harry looked up in surprise, he hadn't realised he had moved so close to the other girl. "Pardon?"

"You should ignore her." Aceline repeated, rolling her eyes. "She does not know how to be anything other than a flirt."

Harry frowned, he hadn't found Fleur flirtatious at all. "I do not believe we have been properly introduced. I am…"

"Harry Potter." Aceline interrupted. "Yes, I know. Just as you know that I am Aceline Moreau."

"Congratulations on being selected to take part in the Tournament." Harry told her, trying to ignore her rudeness.

"Thank you." Aceline accepted. "I am glad to have been chosen, if only so that Beauxbatons might be represented by someone other than her."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the disdain in Aceline's voice. "You do not get along with Mademoiselle Delacour?"

"Non!" Aceline denied strongly. "She is a half-breed, you see – a stain on our proud school."

Harry didn't quite know what to say. Sure he had known that Fleur was part veela, it would be impossible to miss, but he hadn't considered that her classmates might see that as a bad thing. Since when did traditionalists have prejudices against creatures and half-breeds? Normally it was the anti-traditionalists, with their muggle views, that had issues like that. Was it different in France?

"I'm afraid I do not understand, Mademoiselle Moreau." Harry replied eventually.

Aceline frowned at him like he was slow. "She is part veela. Surely you must have noticed."

"You misunderstand me, Mademoiselle Moreau." Harry told her stiffly. "I did not mistake your meaning. I simply do not understand your prejudice. In England, only the uncultured believe in such things."

Which, admittedly was a bit of a stretch, but Aceline's pink cheeks and narrowed eyes assured Harry that he had made his point.

"I beg your pardon?" Aceline asked indignantly.

"As you should." Harry acknowledged facetiously. "It shows that you have at least some degree of class."

Aceline's face flooded with colour. "Why you little…"

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" Bagman called suddenly, bounding towards him. "I didn't see you there!"

"Mr. Bagman." Harry acknowledged, turning away from Aceline. "You will note of course that Cedric has also arrived."

Bagman glanced quickly towards where Cedric and Fleur were still talking. "Yes, yes, wonderful, wonderful. We're still waiting on the Durmstrang students though and the rest of the judges. I'm sure they'll be here any minute. There's nothing to worry about though, this is just the Wand Weighing Ceremony."

"I am aware." Harry told him stiffly, it was hard to forget that this was the man who had tried to steal from Fred and George.

"It's nothing to worry about," Bagman said again. "We'll just be checking your wands to make sure they work, and then there will be a little photo shoot. Rita Skeeter is doing a piece on you all for the Daily Prophet."

Harry glance over to where Rita Skeeter was standing, talking the wizard with a camera who was standing near the windows. Unfortunately, Skeeter caught his eyes and quickly made her way across the room.

"You must be Harry Potter!" She announced loudly.

"Yes." Harry agreed blandly.

"Harry, this is Rita." Bagman said with a wide smile. "I'm sure you must have read some of her articles."

"I'd rather you called me Mr. Potter, sir." Harry told him firmly.

Bagman's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Oh, of course. Certainly."

Rita's eyes were narrowed on Harry. "Ludo, do you think that there might be time for me to have a quick chat with Harry here before the ceremony starts? It might do the Tournament some good, an interview with the youngest champion."

"Of course!" Bagman agreed excitedly.

"I would rather not." Harry put in quickly. "I am underage, you see. It would be inappropriate for me to talk to Miss Skeeter without Lord Black present."

"Ah, yes," Skeeter's eyes gleamed. "Lord Black is your godfather."

"He is." Harry agreed neutrally.

"Tell me, Harry," Skeeter started. "What is it like to live with someone like your godfather?"

"It's Mr. Potter, Miss Skeeter." Harry corrected her firmly. "And I would rather not answer any questions until Lord Black arrives."

"Shy, are you?" Skeeter asked slyly.

"No," Harry denied. "I am just very aware of my legal rights."

Skeeter's smile was starting to look strained. "Don't you think my readers have a right to know about you though, Harry?"

"Mr. Potter." Harry corrected again.

Skeeter rolled her eyes. "There's no need to be so formal, you know. We're all friends here."

The door opened and Harry turned towards it hopefully, sighing internally when the Durmstrang students entered. Where was Sirius?

"So?" Skeeter prompted. "Don't you think my readers have a right to know about you? After all, you did put your name forward to compete in the Tournament."

"I didn't, actually." Harry denied firmly.

"Oh?" Skeeter had a quill and parchment in her hand, ready to take notes.

"I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire." Harry repeated.

"But surely you must of." Skeeter exclaimed. "How else would you be competing in it?"

"I believe the theory is that someone else submitted my name." Harry told her, before remembering that he didn't want to be answering her questions. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Skeeter, I want to have the opportunity to speak to the Durmstrang students for a minute."

Skeeter looked disappointed, but she nodded. "Of course."

Harry quickly made his away across the room to the corner where Viktor Krum and Nina Viserova were standing together.

Viktor bowed and Nina curtsied as Harry drew nearer. "Merry meet, Harry." Viktor greeted him.

"Merry meet." Harry agreed with a nod.

"This is Nina Viserova, ot Rodyt Viserova." Viktor started in Bulgarian. "Nina, this is Harry Potter, Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble Houses of Black and Potter."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter." Nina greeted him gruffly in Bulgarian.

"And you, Miss Viserova." Harry agreed. "Please call me Harry."

Nina smiled. "Then you must call me Nina."

"Congratulations on being selected as a Champion." Harry continued in English.

"Thank you." Nina's smile widened. "I vould say the same to you, but Viktor tells me that you have no vish to be a Champion?"

"Not really, no." Harry agreed. "But I'm here now, so I'll do my best."

"As you should." Nina agreed. "Your knowledge of our language is impressive."

"Thank you." Harry nodded in acknowledgement. "It is a very hard language to learn. I met Prince Andrey at the Quidditch World Cup, but found it hard to speak to him. His English is much better than my Bulgarian."

Nina's eyes widened. "You met the prince?"

"I did." Harry confirmed, before turning as he heard the door open.

Sirius came through first, followed by Dumbledore, Brusilova, Maxime, and an older man who Harry recognised as being Ollivander – the wandmaker who had sold him his wand.

Cedric and Krum both bowed to Sirius, while Fleur, Aceline and Nina curtsied. Sirius nodded in acknowledgement as Madame Maxime and Madame Brusilova curtsied shallowly to Harry.

"Excellent!" Bagman declared. "Shall we get started? Champions, you need to be sitting on those seats near the door, while we judges will be sitting behind the table."

Harry began to walk across the room, pausing when Sirius met him halfway.

"Everything going alright, Harry?" Sirius murmured.

"Skeeter wants an interview with me." Harry answered quietly. "I told her I couldn't talk to her without you present."

Sirius' gaze darted to where Skeeter was talking to her photographer again. "Good on you."

Harry chose a seat beside Cedric and then watched as the judges all took their seats. Dumbledore didn't sit down, choosing instead to stand behind his desk and address the Champions.

"Let me introduce Mr. Ollivander." Dumbledore told them, gesturing to the wandmaker who was standing near the windows. "He is England's foremost wandmaker and he will be checking your wands to ensure that they are fully functional for the Tournament."

Harry observed Ollivander, suddenly remembering that Takashi was hoping to apprentice under a wandmaker after graduating from Hogwarts. He wondered how Ollivander measured up against the Japanese wandmaker that would hopefully be Takashi's master.

As Dumbledore finished speaking, Ollivander moved away from the window. "Mademoiselle Moreau, if you would."

Aceline stood and, with a haughty glance in Fleur's direction, flounced across the room to where Ollivander was waiting. She handed him her wand, and then stepped back.

Ollivander brought the wand up to his eyes. "Ah, eight and a quarter inches, inflexible Maple wood and containing a Melusine hair."

Harry looked at the wand in interest, he'd never heard of that wand core before.

"Quite an unusual core," Ollivander commented. "Though I imagine less uncommon in France than it is here."

Aceline raised her nose haughtily.

Ollivander raised the wand in his right hand. "Orchideous!"

Once Aceline had taken her seat again, flowers and wand in hand, Ollivander called on Fleur.

Fleur's wand apparently contained a veela hair, which made Aceline snort disdainfully. It raised an interesting question in Harry's mind though. If veela hair could be used for wands, did that mean that werewolf fur could be too? What about wizard's hair or Merpeople's hair? After all, a Melusine wasn't that different from a Merperson and Aceline had one of their hairs as her wand core.

Krum was next and, while Harry had heard of his wandcore (Draco had a dragon heartstring core as well) he had never heard of a wand made of hornbeam before.

Next up was Nina, whose wand was ten inches long, flexible, made of ebony, with a Rougarou hair. Ollivander seemed impressed by Nina's wand, commenting that Rougarou hair could be very difficult to work with.

Cedric was next and nothing about his wand sounded unusual to Harry. A fact that Harry put down to Cedric also being from England. Clearly different wandmakers, in different countries, used different materials. Harry wondered what Takashi would use when he was making wands in Japan.

Then it was Harry's turn and, as he passed Ollivander his wand, he hoped desperately that the older man wouldn't tell the others of its connection to Voldemort's wand. Harry doubted that would go down well. Thankfully, Ollivander left that piece of information alone and, aside from taking longer with Harry's wand than he had the others, didn't say or do anything odd.

After the ceremony was over, and Ollivander had slipped out of the room, Skeeter arranged them all for photos. First there was the shot of the whole group, then just the judges, then just the Champions, then the two Beauxbatons Champions and Madame Maxime, then the two Durmstrang Champions and Madame Brusilova, then Harry, Cedric and Dumbledore, and finally individual shots of each of the six Champions

Finally it was over and Dumbledore dismissed them all to dinner. Harry had almost made it out the door when Skeeter's long fingernails suddenly dug into his arm.

"You can't be leaving yet, Harry!" Skeeter said quickly, tugging him away from the doorway. "Lord Black's here now and you promised me an interview."

Harry shook his arm free. "I think you are mistaken, Miss Skeeter. I merely told you that I could not give you an interview without Lord Black's presence, not that I would give you one when he arrived."

"Nonsense!" Skeeter dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. "An interview will be good for you, and good for the Tournament. Don't you want to be famous?"

Harry looked around for Sirius and was relieved to see his godfather making his way towards them.

"Merry meet, Miss Skeeter." Sirius greeted her with a charming smile.

Skeeter giggled. "Oh, Lord Black, how many times must I tell you to call me Rita?"

"At least one more, it would seem." Sirius answered with a grin. "I see you have met my heir."

"Oh, yes." Skeeter turned her attention back to Harry. "I was just telling how important it is that he gives me an interview. Just think how much good it would do the Tournament."

"I'm sure that Harry was just being cautious." Sirius told Skeeter. "He can't be too careful, you know. It would be terribly inappropriate for him to give an interview without me being present. Don't you agree?"

It was obvious that Skeeter didn't agree a bit, but she forced a smile. "Of course, Lord Black."

"I would, of course, be willing to give an interview now that Lord Black is present." Harry announced magnanimously.

Skeeter's eyes widened in delight. "Oh, how positively lovely!"

They moved away from the door and sat on the seats that had previously been occupied by the Champions. Harry and Sirius sat beside each other, forcing Skeeter to pull a chair out of position so that she was facing them.

"Now," Skeeter started, unsnapping her ridiculous crocodile-skin handbag and pulling out a green quill and some parchment. "It's alright if I use a Quick-Notes Quill, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid not." Harry told her apologetically.

Skeeter's eyes darted up to his in shock. "Are you sure? Using it will allow me to talk to you normally. I find that people often find talking to someone who is actively taking notes somewhat intimidating."

Harry imagined that she found that someone actively taking notes reminded the person being interviewed that they were on record.

"You could always use a Transcribing Quill." Harry suggested.

Skeeter's eyes narrowed slightly, but she returned the green quill to her bag and pulled out a plain black one. Once the quill had been set on the parchment and was poised, ready to transcribe their conversation, Skeeter leaned towards Harry.

"So, Harry, you were telling me before the ceremony that you are still claiming not to have entered the Tournament."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the poorly hidden accusation in the question. "That is because I didn't enter the Tournament. A fact that I can easily prove."

"You can?" Skeeter asked, her eyes gleaming.

"Of course." Harry inclined his head. "And I shall do so if the Wizengamot, or any other official body, should ever ask me to."

Skeeter looked disappointed. "Don't you think that my readers, the people of England, deserve to know the truth?"

"I do," Harry agreed neutrally. "That is why I have told you the truth."

Skeeter looked sceptical. "Don't you think…"

Sirius cleared his throat. "Next question, Miss Skeeter."

Skeeter's eyes darted towards him. "Of course, uh, how are you feeling about the upcoming tasks? Are you nervous? Excited?"

"All of the above." Harry admitted. "It is certainly intimidating to find myself competing against students three years older than me, in a tournament that has been known to result in death. However, despite my nerves I am excited by the opportunity to learn new things."

The transcribing quill was scribbling away and, as Harry glanced at the parchment, he was glad to see that it was recording his words perfectly.

"Lovely!" Skeeter exclaimed. "Learning new things, exactly what I would expect to hear from a Ravenclaw. Tell me, Harry…"

"Mr. Potter." Sirius corrected firmly.

Skeeter's eyes darted towards him again. "Right, yes, tell me, Mr. Potter, what do you think your parents would think of you being sorted into Ravenclaw? They were both in Gryffindor I understand."

"Harry has very few memories of his parents." Sirius answered, before Harry could even open his mouth. "But I have no doubt that they would be incredibly proud of the young wizard that their son is growing up to be."

"Despite him being in Ravenclaw?" Skeeter asked.

Sirius' expression was firm. "It was a long running joke between Lord and Lady Potter that Lady Potter had been mis-sorted. Lord Potter often called her a Ravenclaw in disguise."

Harry glanced at Sirius in interest, he hadn't known that.

"And what do you think they would think of their son's close relationship with so-called dark families?" Skeeter addressed her question to Sirius. "I understand that Mr. Potter has recently become betrothed to Daphne Greengrass, not to mention his close relationship with the Malfoy family."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that you held Lord Malfoy in such disregard, Miss Skeeter."

"Not at all!" Skeeter denied hurriedly. "But many people do, you know."

"It should not be surprising that Draco and I are friends." Harry told her firmly. "He and Cousin Narcissa are two of my closest cousins."

"Are they?" Skeeter sounded confused.

"Of course." Harry inclined his head. "My grandmother was a daughter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black."

"Not to mention that, as my heir, Harry can claim all members of my House as his own." Sirius added.

"I see." Skeeter commented. "Now, Harry…"

"Mr. Potter." Sirius corrected her again.

Skeeter ignored him. "…how does it feel to know that You-Know-Who is still out there? That you didn't really defeat him?"

"It is horrifying of course." Harry started solemnly. "Particularly since I knew some of the people who were killed by him and his followers at the Quidditch World Cup final. I don't want anyone else to have to lose their parents to Voldemort like I did."

Skeeter, who had let out a ridiculous sounding squeak at the word 'Voldemort', looked shaken. "Don't say his name!"

Harry barely managed to prevent himself from rolling his eyes. "My apologies."

Sirius cleared his throat. "I think that's enough for today, Miss Skeeter. We wouldn't want to miss dinner."

Skeeter looked disappointed, but she nodded. "Very well. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mr. Potter."

She took the quill off the parchment and returned it to her bag, before beginning to roll up the parchment.

"Miss Skeeter, if you don't mind." Sirius held out a hand for the parchment.

Skeeter looked confused, but reluctantly handed it over.

"Gemino!" Sirius cast, pointing his wand at the parchment. "Now, if you wouldn't mind signing both copies of the parchment, Miss Skeeter, and I will do the same."

Skeeter was looking increasingly put out, but she pasted a smile on her face and retrieved a pink quill from her bag. "Of course, Lord Black."