Chapter 11: Weighing the Wands

November 1, 2001 – Thursday

Grounds

"Hello," Hermione said softly, her voice laced with concern, holding up a stack of toast. Her eyes held a gentle warmth as she looked at Harry. "I brought you this…Want to go for a walk?"

"Good idea," said Harry, his gratitude evident in his tired eyes. He looked worn and burdened. "Where's Dawn?"

They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and went outside. Hermione's brow furrowed with empathy as she thought about Dawn's distress. "Dawn's with Buffy. I ended up sleeping with her last night. She cried herself to sleep."

Harry sighed deeply. "Between Glory and the Tournament. This has to be hard on her."

Hermione nodded, her heart aching for her twin. She spoke softly, "Yes it is. She's worried that Glory will find her now."

Harry nodded in understanding, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. "I can understand that. I worry about what could happen to me with Voldemort."

"I know, Harry," Hermione said with a soft sigh, her voice filled with understanding and empathy. "You and Dawn are in a way a lot alike. You've both been thrust into this without your consent."

Harry listened, his gaze fixed on the horizon, the weight of his destiny heavy on his shoulders. He knew Hermione was right.

"I think it might help Dawn if you talked to her," Hermione continued, her words gentle and soothing. "Tell her about the times you faced Voldemort. If she knew someone else who had gone through something similar…"

Harry nodded slowly, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "I will. Have you seen Ron?"

Hermione hesitated, her eyes reflecting a hint of discomfort. "Erm…yes…he was at breakfast," she said cautiously.

Harry's curiosity and concern deepened. "Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well… no, I don't think so… not really," Hermione replied awkwardly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?" Harry asked, a mixture of frustration and worry evident in his tone.

"Oh Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly, her voice tinged with frustration and sadness. Her eyes held a hint of sorrow as she tried to make him understand. "He's jealous!"

"Jealous?" Harry said incredulously, his emotions running high. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

Hermione sighed, her patience evident in her response. "Look," she said patiently, her voice softening, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it…but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many…"

"Great," said Harry bitterly, his frustration and bitterness evident. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it. People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go…"

Hermione's eyes held a mix of sympathy and determination. "I'm not telling him anything," she said shortly, her resolve clear. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, his anger and helplessness palpable. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or…"

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly, her voice filled with deep concern for her sister. Her eyes glistened with worry and fear. "That's not funny at all. Especially when Dawn has to be in that stupid tournament also."

Harry's face contorted in regret, realizing the insensitivity of his comment. "Sorry, Hermione."

Hermione sighed, her thoughts racing with the gravity of their situation. "Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, well maybe not straight away because you need to talk to Dawn first."

"Yeah, after that, give Ron a good kick up the -" Harry started to say.

Hermione interrupted firmly, her expression serious. "As soon as you finish talking to Dawn, you need to write to Sirius. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts… It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen."

Harry raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Come off it," he said. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament…"

"He'd want you to tell him," said Hermione sternly, her words carrying the weight of responsibility. "He's going to find out anyway."

Harry furrowed his brow in concern. "How?" he asked, feeling a growing sense of unease.

"Harry, this isn't going to be kept quiet," said Hermione, her tone somber. "This tournament's famous, and you're famous. I'll be really surprised if there isn't anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing… I don't even know how the Ministry expects to keep Dawn's name out of it. Anyways, Sirius would rather hear it from you, I know he would."

Harry nodded reluctantly, realizing the truth in Hermione's words. "Okay, okay, I'll write to him," he said, a sense of duty settling in his heart.

Buffy's suite

Then they returned to the castle, and Hermione took Harry to Buffy's rooms. "Hellmouth," she said, giving the password to the portrait. The portrait swung open, and they walked inside to find Buffy and Dawn sitting on the couch. It was obvious that Dawn had been crying again, her eyes swollen and red, and Buffy had been doing her best to comfort her.

"Hermione?" Buffy said, her voice tinged with surprise and gratitude.

Hermione sighed, her concern for Dawn evident. "I thought Dawn could use someone to talk to who's been through sort of the same thing she is with Glory."

Buffy thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "We'll leave you two alone." She got up and gently guided Hermione out of the room.

Harry sat down next to Dawn, his expression filled with empathy. "How are you holding up, Dawn?"

Dawn sighed, her voice shaky with fear. "Terrible, Harry. Glory is going to find out, and then she'll come for me." Her eyes welled up with tears once more, the weight of her situation heavy on her shoulders.

Harry nodded, a faint, distant look in his eyes. "Would you like to hear something that happened to me my first year at Hogwarts?"

Dawn, looking for any source of comfort, shrugged and replied, "Sure."

Harry began to recount his harrowing experience, his voice filled with emotion as he relived those memories. He told her about facing Voldemort, about discovering the truth behind his parents' deaths.

Dawn listened intently, her eyes fixed on Harry with genuine sympathy and understanding.

"You want to know something," Harry continued, his voice soft but resolute. "Like you, I'm afraid of what will happen when I finally come face to face with Voldemort and have to fight him."

Dawn nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, "How do you live with that possibility?"

Harry sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he shared his feelings. "It's not easy, I will tell you that. Sometimes my friends get the brunt of it. In the end, though, I know I have friends who love me and will have are there for me no matter what. You have much the same thing, Dawn. You have friends and family who have your covered. Buffy and Hermione love you and will never let anything happen to you. I'm your friend; I'll be there for you, too. I'll never let anything happen to you. While Ron is a git at the moment, even he, I am sure, would never let anything happen to you either."

Dawn's smile grew genuine, her gratitude evident. "Thanks, Harry."

"I think you should tell Ron about Glory," Harry suggested gently.

Dawn nodded, her eyes still carrying a hint of doubt. "You think he can handle the information I'm not real."

Harry shook his head with conviction. "You're real, Dawn. I'm not talking to an imaginary person here. I get what you mean, though. And yes, I think he can."

Dawn nodded resolutely and turned to Harry, she asked him if he could go get Ron. Due to his animosity with Ron, Harry declined. But when Buffy and Hermione returned, Dawn requested Hermione to fetch Ron.

Hermione came back with Ron a few minutes later, curiosity etched on his face. "What's going on?" Ron asked, looking between the three of them.

Dawn sighed, her voice trembling slightly, "We're friends, right, Ron?"

Ron thought for a moment and then nodded, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "I would like to think so."

"Then sit down, there is something I wish to tell you," Dawn said, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and determination.

Buffy, concerned, interjected, "Dawn, are you sure about this?"

"I am, Buffy. If Harry is right and Ron has my back, then he deserves to know what's going on," Dawn said, her voice laced with a trace of anxiety.

Buffy nodded in acceptance at Dawn's decision. "Okay."

Dawn proceeded to share the shocking truth with Ron, her voice trembling at times as she explained about Glory, the Key, and her own identity. She recounted the unsettling revelation of her name coming out of the goblet and the theory that someone had put it in there to harm her. When she finished, Ron sat there, his face a mixture of shock and guilt as he tried to process the information.

Ron finally turned to Dawn, remorse evident in his eyes. He knew he had been unfair and unkind to her and Harry. But now, faced with the possibility that someone was out to harm her, he felt a deep sense of regret. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said you didn't add your name to the goblet."

Dawn's smile was filled with forgiveness and gratitude. "Thanks, Ron."

Buffy spoke up, her tone serious, "Now that you know, Ron, you can tell no one. Only the judges for the tournament, Harry, Hermione, Dawn, myself, and now you know who Dawn is. We need you to keep this secret and help protect her."

Ron nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I promise, I won't say a word to anyone. I'll do whatever it takes to protect Dawn."

November 2, 2001 – Thursday

Greenhouse

The atmosphere at Hogwarts had become noticeably tense and strained for Harry and Dawn. Aside from the Gryffindors, they were met with nothing but cold shoulders from their fellow students. This was especially evident in their Herbology lesson with the Hufflepuffs, where it was clear that many of them felt that Harry and Dawn had stolen their champion's glory. Even some of the Hufflepuffs who had been friendly with Harry were now avoiding him, casting him accusing glances.

Despite Ron's talk with Dawn the day before, he still wasn't speaking to Harry. Hermione sat between them during classes, attempting to keep the conversation going, but both boys responded with forced politeness and avoided making eye contact with each other.

Dawn rolled her eyes in frustration and leaned over to Ron, whispering, "Why don't you apologize? You know he didn't put his name in the goblet."

Ron shot a glare at Dawn and replied stubbornly, "I'll apologize when he does."

Dawn sighed, exchanging a knowing glance with her twin. Both of them were growing weary of being caught in the middle of the tension between Harry and Ron, wishing their friends could find a way to resolve their differences and move forward.

Hagrid's Hut

As Harry, Ron, Dawn, and Hermione approached Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures, Malfoy walked towards them with a cruel sneer firmly etched on his face.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champions," Malfoy taunted. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt they're going to be around much longer… Half the Triwizard champions have died… how long d'you reckon you two are going to last, Summers? Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

Hermione's hand instinctively reached for her wand, her eyes filled with anger, but Dawn gently held her back, her voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and restraint. "He's not worth it 'Mione," Dawn said.

Just then, Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin, balancing a teetering tower of crates. To the class's collective horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk.

"Take this thing for a walk?" Malfoy repeated in disgust. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

Hagrid, unfazed by Malfoy's sarcasm, demonstrated, "Roun' the middle. Er - yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry, Dawn – you two come here an' help me with this big one.…"

Hagrid's real intention, however, was to talk to Harry and Dawn away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to Harry and Dawn with a grave expression in his eyes.

"So – yer both competin', Harry, Dawn. In the tournament. School champion."

"We're each one of the champions," Harry corrected him.

Hagrid nodded, understanding the distinction. "No idea who put yeh both in fer it, Harry, Dawn?"

"You believe we didn't do it, then?" said Harry.

"Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh - an' Dumbledore an' Professor Summers believes yer, an' all."

"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry bitterly.

"So would I," Dawn added, her voice carrying a hint of frustration and determination to uncover the truth.

They looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty, struggling with their unruly skrewts.

"Look like they're havin' fun, don' they?" Hagrid said happily. "Ah, I don' know, Harry, Dawn. School champion…everythin' seems ter happen ter you, Harry, doesn' it?"

Harry didn't answer, his expression a mix of weariness and resignation.

Dawn glanced at her friend, a wave of empathy washing over her. She remembered what he had said about his first three years at Hogwarts, the countless challenges and dangers he had faced. Hagrid was right, she knew, everything did seem to happen to him.

November 13, 2001 – Tuesday

Potions Classroom

As the days dragged on, Harry and Dawn couldn't ignore the chilling atmosphere that had settled not only among the Hufflepuffs but the Ravenclaws as well. The once warm and inviting halls of Hogwarts had turned frigid, mirroring the deepening despair that had taken root in Dawn's heart.

But one fateful day, the dam burst, and Dawn's emotions overflowed. Her voice trembled with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as she confronted Harry and Ron, her closest companions, "You two are idiots, you know that." Her eyes, once filled with trust and camaraderie, were now clouded with disappointment. "Harry, Ron, you've both been best friends since you came to Hogwarts. It's time you two made up. Or I will find someone else to be my friends who have my back."

Harry and Ron exchanged a bewildered glance, guilt creeping into their hearts as they watched Dawn storm off towards the dungeons, her footsteps heavy with the weight of her emotions.

Hermione, always the voice of reason, shook her head in disapproval. "Look what you two did," she scolded, her own frustration evident. "You know she's not supposed to be by herself. I think it's past time you two apologize to each other." With determination, Hermione dashed after Dawn, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

When Dawn and Hermione arrived at Snape's classroom, they were met with an unexpected sight. The Slytherins, often considered rivals, were lined up outside, each proudly displaying a large badge on the front of their robes. And then, like magic, Harry and Ron appeared beside them.

Dawn's eyes scanned the badges, each one bearing a powerful message that resonated with her conflicted feelings:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY

THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

The cold tension in the corridor intensified as Draco Malfoy, always ready to provoke, took pleasure in revealing the true nature of the badges. His icy words cut through the air like shards of glass, "Like them, Summers? Potter?" A sinister smile played on his lips as he continued, "And this isn't all they do - look!"

Malfoy pressed his badge firmly into his chest, causing the message to vanish and be replaced by another, one that glowed an eerie shade of green:

SUMMERS & POTTER STINKS!

The Slytherins erupted into cruel laughter, their faces contorted with malicious glee. One by one, they followed Malfoy's lead, changing their badges to proudly display the hurtful message, until the corridor was bathed in the sickly green glow of their disdain.

Hermione, never one to back down from a fight, responded with her signature sarcasm, "Oh, very funny, really witty."

Malfoy, reveling in his cruelty, extended a badge toward Hermione, taunting her further, "Want one, Summers? I think it would be hilarious for you to wear one that says Summers stinks, since that's your name now." His voice dripped with venom as he added, "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Harry's hand instinctively reached for his wand, a surge of anger and protectiveness welling up inside him. The surrounding students hastily retreated, creating a wide berth between the two parties, their faces a mix of fear and anticipation.

But Hermione, ever the voice of reason, intervened with a warning, "Harry!"

Dawn looked at one of her best friends and smirked. Malfoy was gonna get it, she thought.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts -"

"Funnunculus!" Harry yelled.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles - Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!" Dawn screamed and she hurried forward to her sister. Her voice was filled with desperation and concern as she saw the state of her beloved sibling. She dragged her sister's hands away from her face and gasped.

It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin. Panic coursed through Hermione, and she felt her teeth and let out a terrified cry. Her cry was a heartbreaking wail of anguish, and her voice cracked with despair.

Dawn couldn't contain her own anguish as she clung to Hermione, her voice breaking in a heartrending wail of despair, "Hermione!"

Snape's entrance into the chaotic scene was like a sudden cold breeze, his voice as icy and unfeeling as ever, seemingly impervious to the emotional turmoil that had gripped the students.

"And what is all this noise about?" he inquired, his dark eyes piercing the room, his demeanor betraying no empathy or concern.

Malfoy, his satisfaction palpable, didn't waste a moment to seize the opportunity, eager to paint Harry as the instigator of the conflict. His voice oozed with a twisted sense of triumph as he accused, "Potter attacked me, sir—"

Harry, his frustration and a profound sense of injustice bubbling within him, couldn't hold back his retort. His voice cracked as he cried out, "We attacked each other at the same time!" It was a desperate plea for fairness, a plea to be heard in the face of Malfoy's accusations.

Malfoy, reveling in the spotlight, pressed on with his self-righteousness, his eyes glittering as he pointed accusingly at Goyle, eager to prove his point. "—and he hit Goyle, look—"

Snape's response was as cool and collected as ever, his gaze assessing Goyle's condition with clinical detachment. "Hospital wing, Goyle," he declared calmly, as if he were ordering nothing more than a routine task.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Dawn exclaimed. "Look!" She compelled her sister to display her elongated teeth to Snape, the urgency in her voice clear and unrelenting.

Snape, ever the picture of indifference, glanced coldly at Hermione's teeth and delivered a callous verdict, "I see no difference."

That was the final straw for Dawn. Her voice trembled with a volatile blend of anger, frustration, and genuine concern as she confronted Snape, her emotions teetering on the brink. "YOU DON'T SEE A DIFFERENCE! I'm taking Hermione to the hospital wing myself. Then I will go see Professor Dumbledore about your playing favorites with the Slytherins."

Snape's frown deepened, and his dark eyes narrowed in response. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention for Ms. Dawn Summers! You will not talk to a professor in that tone."

Dawn shrugged off his threats, her defiance unwavering. She issued a pointed warning, "I would hold off on your threats, Professor. Or have you forgotten who my other sister is? I don't think she would like you threatening me or allowing Hermione to be harmed when the perpetrator gets off with no punishment of any kind."

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom

With that, Dawn turned and led Hermione out of the dungeon, determined to seek help and justice for her sister. Once she had safely left Hermione in Madam Pomfrey's care, she made her way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. As she entered, both Moody and Buffy turned their attention to her. Moody's magical eye whirred ominously as he spoke, "Ms. Summers?"

Dawn nodded at Professor Moody, her worry still etched across her face. "My apologies, Professor Moody. But I need to see my sister. It is important." Her words held a sense of urgency that couldn't be denied.

Moody's magical eye shifted between Dawn and Buffy, and upon receiving a silent nod of understanding from Buffy, he allowed them to step out into the hallway. Buffy's presence was a comforting anchor amidst the chaos, and she gently inquired, "What's going on, Dawn?" Her voice was soothing, a source of solace amid the turmoil.

Dawn, with tears glistening in her eyes, poured her heart out to Buffy. She recounted every harrowing detail of the distressing events that had transpired outside the potions classroom, her voice quivering with a volatile mix of anger, frustration, and genuine concern as she relived the traumatic ordeal.

Buffy's own anger simmered beneath the surface as she listened, her protective instincts surging to the forefront. She couldn't help but feel responsible for not having forewarned the professors as she had done with Malfoy. "I guess I should have warned the professors like I did with Malfoy," she admitted with regret. "We'll go see Dumbledore."

Dumbledore's Office

Together, they made their way to the headmaster's office and knocked on the door. Upon hearing Dumbledore's warm invitation to enter, they walked into the room, their hearts heavy with the weight of the injustice they hoped to address.

Dumbledore greeted Buffy and Dawn with his usual twinkle in his eyes, his presence radiating warmth and wisdom.

"I want Snape fired," Buffy stated firmly, her voice unwavering in its resolve.

Dumbledore sighed, his expression mirroring his deep concern. He had already been made aware of the troubling incident that had taken place outside the potions classroom. "I will talk to Severus, Buffy," he assured her. "I must say I am greatly disappointed in how he treated your sister. He should have sent her to the hospital wing with Mr. Goyle. Madam Pomfrey is fixing her teeth as we speak. Dawn, if I could hear your side of things, it would greatly expedite matters."

Dawn nodded, her determination shining through as she recounted the entire sequence of events to Dumbledore. She held nothing back, ensuring that the headmaster had a complete understanding of the unjust treatment she and Hermione had endured.

"In the interests of fairness, your detention is cancelled," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying a tone of understanding and empathy. "But the house points Professor Snape took away will stand. While I understand the reason you spoke out against him, I must remind you that he is a Professor and should be respected."

Dawn sighed with resignation, acknowledging Dumbledore's decision, even though her frustration with Snape's behavior still lingered. She understood the importance of maintaining respect for authority figures, even when they fell short of their responsibilities.

Dumbledore then turned his attention to Buffy, promising, "I will talk to him about this, Buffy. For now, though, we have something more pressing. Dawn needs to be at the wand weigh-in. It's a requirement for the Triwizard Tournament. So, if you will follow me."

Unused Classroom

Buffy and Dawn followed Dumbledore out of his office and into an otherwise unused classroom, where an unusual gathering awaited them. All the judges and champions were present, except for Harry.

Dumbledore, seemingly aware of Harry's whereabouts, didn't waste a moment. He made his way straight to a broom cupboard and swung the door open, revealing a somewhat bewildered Harry.

"Dumbledore!" cried Rita Skeeter, her voice dripping with false cheerfulness. "How are you? I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

Dumbledore's response was lighthearted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Enchantingly nasty," he admitted with a chuckle. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

Rita Skeeter, never one to be easily abashed, showed no remorse for her words. "I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbhedore, and that many wizards in the street -"

Dumbledore interrupted her with a polite smile and a graceful bow, "I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita, but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. 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."

Harry emerged from the broom cupboard and joined Dawn and Buffy, his concern for Hermione evident in his voice as he inquired, "How's Hermione?"

Dawn's smile was a reassuring balm. "She's going to be fine. Professor Dumbledore said that Madam Pomfrey was shrinking her teeth as we speak."

Harry let out a sigh of relief, his worry beginning to dissipate. He then asked about Dawn's detention, his concern now shifted towards her. "Do you still have to do detention?"

Dawn shook her head, a sense of understanding in her eyes. "No, but we still lost the house points. I understand the reason, though. While I didn't agree with Snape about Hermione, I shouldn't have yelled at him."

Harry nodded, acknowledging Dawn's perspective. "Maybe not. But you have to admit someone had to. If it hadn't been you, I'm fairly certain it would have been me or Ron."

As they conversed, Dumbledore redirected their attention to a new arrival. "May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" he said, gesturing toward the wand maker. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Mr. Ollivander requested.

Fleur Delacour glided gracefully to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand, her poise and elegance never wavering.

"Hmm…" Mr. Ollivander hummed thoughtfully. He twirled the wand between his long, skilled fingers like a conductor's baton, eliciting a mesmerizing display of pink and gold sparks. Then, he brought it closer to his scrutinizing eyes and examined it with great care.

"Yes," he said in a hushed tone, "nine and a half inches…inflexible…rosewood…and containing…dear me…"

Fleur, her voice tinged with pride, provided the missing detail, "An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela. One of my grandmuzzer's."

Mr. Ollivander nodded in acknowledgment. "Yes," he remarked, "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's experienced fingers ran along Fleur's wand, meticulously checking for any imperfections, scratches, or bumps. After a brief examination, he muttered, "Orchideous!" A burst of vibrant flowers erupted from the wand's tip, showcasing its perfect working condition.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," Mr. Ollivander declared, gathering the flowers and handing them, along with the wand, back to Fleur. "Mr. Diggory, you next."

Cedric stepped forward, handing over his wand with a confident smile. Mr. Ollivander's demeanor shifted noticeably, his enthusiasm evident as he examined the wand with a keen eye.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Mr. Ollivander asked, his tone filled with pride. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn…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?"

Cedric grinned in response. "Polished it last night," he replied.

As the wand inspection continued, Dawn noticed Harry instinctively beginning to polish his own wand. However, the moment he did, golden sparks shot out of its end, surprising him. Dawn promptly issued a warning, "Harry," causing him to cease his actions, lest he unleash any unintended magical effects.

Mr. Ollivander, his expertise and experience evident, sent a graceful stream of silver smoke rings dancing across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand. He pronounced himself satisfied with its condition and then turned his attention to the next champion, Viktor Krum.

Viktor Krum approached Mr. Ollivander, thrusting out his wand with a scowl, his hands tucked into the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," Mr. Ollivander mused as he examined the wand. "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 subjected it to a thorough examination, scrutinizing every inch with meticulous care. "Yes…hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he inquired, and Krum nodded in confirmation. "Rather thicker than one usually sees…quite rigid…ten and a quarter inches… Avis!"

With a sudden burst of sound akin to a gunshot, the hornbeam wand erupted in a cacophony of magic. A flock of small, twittering birds shot out of the wand's end and flew through the open window, disappearing into the watery sunlight.

"Good," Mr. Ollivander acknowledged, nodding in approval, and then he turned his attention to Dawn. "Ms. Summers, if you would be so kind."

Dawn nodded and moved gracefully over to Mr. Ollivander, her polite and respectful demeanor intact. "It's good to see you again, sir," she greeted him warmly before handing him her wand for inspection.

Ollivander reciprocated the sentiment with a nod of his own. "And you, Ms. Summers." He examined her wand closely, his experienced eyes tracing its length. "Willow, hair of a female unicorn, eight and a half inches, springy. A perfect wand for transfigurations." With a wave of her wand, wine shot out from its tip. "Good. I see you've kept it in good working order."

Having completed Dawn's evaluation, Mr. Ollivander turned his attention to Harry, who was next in line. Harry got to his feet and walked past Dawn, who whispered a quiet message of encouragement, "Good luck."

Harry returned the sentiment with a smile and a nod before handing his wand over to Mr. Ollivander, his turn in the wand inspection process about to begin.

"Aaaah, yes," Mr. Ollivander exclaimed, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming with recognition. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember." He spent much more time examining Harry's wand than he had with any of the others, including Dawn's. Eventually, however, the wandmaker conjured another fountain of wine from it and declared that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you all," Dumbledore spoke, rising from his seat 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 -"

But Ludo Bagman, ever the enthusiast, couldn't contain his excitement. "Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" he exclaimed. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

Rita Skeeter, whose attention seemed to be fixed on Harry once again, responded, "Er - yes, let's do those first. And then perhaps some individual shots."

Buffy, ever watchful and protective, interjected with a pointed cough. "Mr. Bagman, need I remind you..."

Bagman, after a brief exchange, acknowledged Buffy's assertion. "All the champions except Ms. Summers, that is."

Rita Skeeter frowned in response, clearly disappointed with the decision. "Mr. Bagman, I object."

Buffy stepped forward, her stance unwavering. "I'm sorry, but Dawn will not be in any pictures. I have the Ministry's backing in this. Isn't that right, Mr. Bagman?"

Bagman nodded in agreement. "Professor Summers is correct, Rita. This is non-negotiable. This is a matter of security."

Reluctantly, Rita nodded her understanding, though her mind was already at work, plotting ways to circumvent this limitation. She couldn't help but think that a budding romance between the two Gryffindor champions might provide the perfect distraction, potentially making up for the absence of Dawn in the photographs.

Buffy, having secured the decision, addressed the group. "If you will excuse me and Dawn. We're going to go see our sister; she's currently in the hospital wing."

Dumbledore, ever gracious and understanding, nodded in acknowledgment. "Of course, Professor Summers."

With that, Buffy and Dawn made their way out of the room.

Hospital Wing

As Buffy stopped to have a conversation with Madam Pomfrey, Dawn made her way over to her twin sister's bedside. "Hey, 'Mione," Dawn greeted her, her voice filled with affection.

Hermione, with a smile that did its best despite the still elongated teeth, which were noticeably shorter than the last time Dawn had seen them, sat up in bed. "Thank you," Hermione expressed her gratitude.

Dawn returned the smile and gave her sister a warm hug. "Hey, that's what sisters do, 'Mione. We protect each other."

Hermione nodded, her smile growing. She understood the depth of the bond they shared. As Buffy approached, she joined the conversation. "Madam Pomfrey said you will have to stay in here tonight. But you should be released by breakfast tomorrow morning," Buffy informed Hermione.

Hermione's smile widened, and she embraced Buffy with gratitude.