"Excuse me, sir?" Colin Creevey stood anxiously at the door, discomforted by having to interrupt the Potion's lesson.

"What?" Snape looked at him like he was an ant, and the young man had to do his best not to cower at the look. Harry couldn't help but sympathize. While Snape was largely harmless unless you actually did something wrong thanks to McGonagall and Dumbledore, it didn't change the fact that he was incredibly unpleasant.

"Har… Harry Potter is needed for the Wand Weighing Ceremony."

The giant bat scowled and looked ready to say something snide, and no doubt hateful. But he thought better of it in the end, and just looked down at the potion in his cauldron, "Another exemplary effort… Miss Greengrass. Out with you Potter, I doubt you're adding much of anything to begin with."

Harry just smiled up at the irate Professor. He knew that being calm only made Snape that much angrier, "Of course, professor." The man whipped around, cloak billowing as he stalked back up to his desk.

"It really isn't fair you know," Daphne said quietly, "You're a dab hand at potions and only gotten better with a bit of my help."

Harry collected his potions kit, and just gave her a wan smile, "Oh, he knows that… which only makes him angrier. It would be so much easier to ridicule me if I was actually as horrible at it as he likes to pretend."

The blonde gave his thigh a squeeze that no one else could see as he made to go, "Have fun."

Truthfully, he'd rather suffer through the next hour or more of potions than deal with what he knew was coming, "You want to go for me? You'd probably do a better job of dealing with the journalists and reporters."

Daphne wrinkled her nose in distaste, "Vultures more like. No, I like potions far better."

"Really supportive." He told her, feigning hurt, "I figured you at least like me better than potions."

She shook her head at his dramatics, "Oh, I do, make no mistake. But I don't think I can be of any help on this one anyway. I'm not the champion here."

"Potter," Snape snapped them out of their conversation, his oily voice just at his shoulder, "Take any longer and you'll find yourself in detention. Your presence at the Wand Weighing was not a request."

The professor had a point in this rare instant, so Harry gave Daphne a quick wink and headed toward the door where Colin was still waiting there for him. Giving him a gentle nudge, he guided him out of the room. If there was thing Harry would appreciate, it was the younger boy getting over his odd hero worship. The younger Gryffindor stared at him for a second before Harry snapped to get his attention, "Lead the way. I don't know where I need to go, mate."

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he stammered out enthusiastically, "Right… right… of course, Harry. Follow me!" They headed up out of the dungeons, and ended up heading toward the Great Hall. In the end, it was in the same antechamber where they'd gone after the selection, "Here you go, they don't need me any further than this."

"Thanks, Colin." Harry told the boy and headed down the stairs alone.

The room was… busy to the say the least. The three heads were there, watching over their students as they made their way in. But then there were the journalists. There were at least half of dozen of them with cameramen as well.

"Bit of a madhouse, isn't it?" Cedric where he stood a bit apart from the clangor of everything. There were one or two of the other champions who were openly embracing the attention, but the older Hufflepuff seemed comfortable standing a bit apart.

"It is," Harry agreed with a shrug of his shoulders, "But I suppose that's what we signed up for."

Cedric snorted at that, "Probably should have given it more thought then. Because I didn't intend to be part of a circus."

"It's the main event of an international tournament that has people coming from all over for the events, seemed inevitable to me."

"You're not wrong, I just wish that one wasn't here." He pointed toward one of the journalists. The woman had blonde curls that looked as though they were almost rigid, like she'd slightly overused hairspray. There was a floating quill by her side as she tapped one of her long, red fingernails against her thigh. It appeared to Harry that there wasn't even the illusion of cordiality between her and the other journalists present.

Harry couldn't say that he recognized the woman, "Who is she?"

"Rita Skeeter," Cedric said sourly, "She's a miserable cow that writes the worst sort of things for the Daily Prophet. My dad says Scrimgeour would love to see her gone but the publishers won't even consider it. The nonsense she writes sells them copies, so they're happy to do whatever they can to keep her." He recognized the name but, didn't have any real knowledge of the woman.

"Right, I'll be sure to keep that in mind." If she's that awful, I really have no interest in getting on her bad side. Fleur was the last of the champions to make her way down into the antechamber. Cedric looked amused as Harry just gave him a clap on the shoulder and headed over in her direction.

Approaching the French beauty, he gave her a wry little smile, "I didn't take you for the sort to be late."

She arched one of her eyebrows, "It iz only right to be fashionably late, 'Arry. Even to somezzing as simple as a wand weighing ceremony." They both talked quietly enough that no one could intrude on their conversation.

"So… you won't mind if I keep you waiting the next time we're meant to do a bit of dueling, then?" He asked her, quite sure he could guess the answer.

"Non, you should never keep a lady waiting." She told him seriously, before the façade broke and they both started laughing. More than one pair of eyes found their way to the pair. Though the only one Harry felt discomforted by was the obvious, almost gleeful look sent his way by Rita Skeeter. Definitely going to have to be careful around that one.

Their little back and forth was interrupted then as Ludo Bagman cut across the general murmuring, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome all of you to the Weighing of the Wands. An old tradition of the Triwizard Tournament that seemed appropriate for its spiritual successor. " He gestured to a man at his side that Harry certainly recognized, "The revered, Gerrick Ollivander will do the duties for the event. Once all is settled there will be a chance for pictures as well as interviews." There was no dissent to that as the old wandmaker made his waited for the first of the champions to approach.

"I think we'll start with our youngest champions," Dumbledore spoke up then. Without any further prompting, his Durmstrang competitor approached and brandished his wand. The tall blonde young man had a long wand of light color.

Ollivander took it from his competitor gently, "Fourteen inches, quite bendy, made of fir I believe?" Ivar nodded his head at the question, "Very good, very good and with a unicorn tail hair for the core. Well suited toward Transfiguration I would imagine." With a wave of the wand, black smoke emanated thick from the tip and was just as quickly waved away, "And in perfect working order. Very good, Mr. Rasmussen." He handed the wand back, and the quiet young Dane stepped back.

With that, Solen stepped forward with a beatific smile and offered her wand to the old wandmaker. Ollivander gave her a small smile back as he looked over the finely crafted piece of wood, "A lovely creation young lady, a bit more embellished then I prefer personally." She frowned at that, but didn't say anything, "Ebony, nine and a quarter inches with a dragon heartstring. Quite rigid. A good match for combat magic, and I hear you are quite the duelist?"

"Oui." She said preening at the mention of her skill.

"Very good." He aimed the wand toward the wall, a bright blue light took a chunk of rock out of the stone that he quickly repaired, "Your wand is in excellent condition, Miss LeClaire."

"Merci." Solen retook her wand. Harry had to admit, she did a good job of putting on airs around others.

With that, it was Harry's turn. Ollivander's eyes lit up slightly when he pulled his holly wand from its holster, "Ah, Mr. Potter, one of my own creations and one that I remember quite well. Quite unique" Harry could only hope that the man didn't make one particular reference that he remembered from the his first time in the shop. Something tells me Rita Skeeter would be absolutely giddy to find out that my wand has a brother in Tom's.

Ollivander looked at his creation with a discerning eye, and blessedly made no further comments on its uniqueness, "Eleven inches, made of holly with the tail feather of a phoenix, nice and supple." The wandmaker looked at him with a quirked eyebrow, "It's served you well?"

"Brilliantly."

"And it's had no problems?" Ollivander pressed, causing Harry no small amount of curiosity.

"None that I can remember." His wand had always been nothing short of a perfect match for him in his opinion.

"Very good." The wandmaker gave him a reassuring smile and spoke softer so that only Harry could hear, "Phoenix feather wands are less common, and harder to win over. They are quite picky you see, and so they are not always the best with great changes in their owner." Well, I've certainly had plenty of that, but I couldn't guess how Ollivander would have an inkling of that.

A fountain of wine erupted from the tip of the holly wand. Satisfied with the condition of his wand, Ollivander handed it back, "In perfect order it would seem, Mr. Potter. Perhaps just something to keep in mind for the future."

People were giving him curious looks as he stepped away from the man. He could understand it, their hushed conversation would have gotten his attention too. He just ignored it and moved over to his fellow champions. Fleur quirked an eyebrow in question, but he just shook his head. There's really nothing to tell.

That didn't stop him from thinking about it though. As the next group of champions made their way up to OIllivander, Harry was paying them no mind. He was too caught up in his own thoughts. Has my wand been failing me in any way lately? Not that I can remember, but then, I've also improved magically in such a way that I might be able to work through it. There's certainly been a change, a rather big one in fact. Getting rid of a soul leach of Tom's would cause some change in my magic, I imagine. And that's not the only change either.

Harry found it worrying to say the least. There had been no adverse effects that he could point to, but that didn't change the fact that it was something to investigate when he had a free moment. Though, when that will be is hard to say.

It was only as Fleur moved from his side that Harry finally returned his attention to the event at hand. Walking with an almost ethereal grace, she made her way over to Ollivander. He took her wand and twirled it between his fingers, "How interesting… nine and half inches, inflexible, made with rosewood… and with a veela hair for the core?"

"Oui," Fleur confirmed proudly, "from my grandmere."

"Excellent," Ollivander said with a little chuckle, "I don't often work with veela hair, they are particularly picky and make for inconsistent cores in the hands of all but a select few. Very temperamental in my experience." He noticed the way Fleur scrunched her nose at that, "Your familial ties to the individual who gifted the hair is what makes this a perfect match for you, young lady. Few can say they are so lucky." With that he gave it a wave and bouquet of flowers emerged from the tip, "Everything seems to be in good order."

Fleur took her wand back and made her way back over to Harry. When she reached him, he nudged her shoulder, "Seems your wand is the sort that will only work for you. Doesn't sound like it would be much use in anyone else's hands."

She gave him a small smile and blushed just a little bit, "Perhaps only someone that I care about. We veela are very picky after all."

"Oh, I've been told… repeatedly." She snickered softly at that as they both watched as the last two champions had their wands checked, Roger next and finally, Krum.

With that done, those gathered bustled about and started setting up their cameras, "Pictures!" Ludo announced.

It took far longer than Harry thought necessary. Every picture was taken meticulously, each contestant told how to stand and where to pivot as the flashes went again and again. Individual shots were taken as well as group shots of each set of three and then finally all twelve of them. By the time it was all over, Harry was already beginning to feel a bit frustrated. Who would've thought I seriously would have preferred to be in bloody potions. I only meant it as a joke.

Unfortunately for him, that frustration wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. No, because what came next was far worse than being commanded about to take a few poses. The interviews for most of the champions were quite simple, a few questions about their interests, their participation in whatever one of the other tournaments they were in, and maybe a bit about their family. It all went relatively quickly with no particular order. He ended up being the last, just after Fleur.

"And given your veela heritage, do you think that there will be those that question the results should you win?" Skeeter simpered, but he could hear the acid in the question. It was outright insulting to say the least, and he heard Solen hide her amusement at the question behind a cough.

Fleur seemed entirely unfazed by the nonsense, "My veela heritage makes no difference, and I have no intention of using it in any unseemly way to my benefit. If I win, it will be because I am an outstanding witch, and anyone who questions that is a fool."

Harry was even less lucky than Fleur, and just like her, it was entirely because of Rita Skeeter. Standing behind the conjured podium, he looked out at the group of a half dozen reporters. There were four women, one from France, one from Belgium, and the last, other than Skeeter, from Romania. The two gents were from Italy and Sweden respectively.

The first few questions were simple enough before he received a question from the French reporter, "Simone Bellier, Mr. Potter with the Parisian Seer," She was a brunette with dark hair in a neat bun and grey eyes, "Your youthful exploits are well known, of course…"

"Which youthful exploits would those be?" Harry cut her off, "Because if you're referring to what happened when I was just a year old, that had very little to do with me. My parents were the heroes of that story, I was just the only one to survive." He didn't mean to be rude, but he wouldn't take credit for something that he had very little to do with.

The whole room went silent at the finality of that statement. It was quickly broken by Rita Skeeter though, "Do you not think that your parents would be disappointed that the child they gave their lives to protect, so recklessly puts himself in danger? You are competing in the dueling tournament as well as quidditch? One might think that you have a bit of a penchant for the dangerous. After all, there were the events at the Quidditch World Cup…" The other reporters turned to look at her as though she were mad. Which probably isn't too far from the truth.

Harry's nostrils flared in irritation, but he managed to keep his voice level, "Given everything I've heard of them and their own exploits, I think my parents would be incredibly proud that I'm willing to push myself to achieve excellence in my interests." He was seething at the very implication that this horrid bitch would have the faintest idea what his parents might think, "Just as Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, two of their closest friends, are. There are very few things in life that come without some sort of risk, and I doubt they would want me to live as though I'm a piece of glass because I survived that ordeal as a baby."

Taking a breath, he continued before she could cut in, "And as for the Quidditch World Cup, I did what was right even if it meant getting hurt myself. I'm not a Gryffindor for nothing."

Skeeter seemed to know it wasn't wise to continue harping on about that particular incident given the problems it caused at the Ministry, "But you're the only witch or wizard competing in all three of the more… treacherous tournaments… do you not think that you've stretched yourself a bit thin? Is it maybe intentional?" Skeeter seemed to be looking for any opportunity to dig into his character, to paint him as either lunatic or a thrill seeker or both. No doubt, painting the savior of the wizarding world as a nutter would sell a good few more copies.

Harry could feel his own magic bubbling just below the surface at the sheer audacity of the question, "Given my performances so far, I would say that I'm doing perfectly fine. And that I know my limits far better than anyone else, particular a reporter who doesn't know the first thing about me," This caused a few chuckles from the others in the room, that left her red in the face with embarrassment, " But if, in the end, I've spread myself a bit thin, the only person who's going to suffer for it is me." Doing a great job of being careful here, Potter.

She changed tact entirely then, so quickly that he nearly caught a case of whiplash, "And what of your relationship with the Beauxbatons champion?"

"What?!"

"I mean Miss Delacour," She clarified needlessly. He knew that she wasn't referring to Solen, "It was obvious to see for anyone in the room that you two are friendly, is there something more there?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but we're friends." Harry said simply and the grin that he saw then made the hair on his arms raise, "The entire purpose of this event is to develop friendships and camaraderie. Had you thought to ask any of my fellow champions the question, I'm sure you would have found that a good many of them have become friends with other students too."

"But it seems you have quite the liking for veela, Harry." Rita pointed out as though she fallen upon some particularly delectable bit of gossip.

"She's a person." Harry bit out, barely willing to give her inane questions the dignity of a response, "That she, or the two ladies I assisted at the World Cup, are veela isn't relevant to me." There were scribbling quills from all of the reporters with every one of his responses, and he would be curious to see how each one of them portray the little exchange.

There was a bell that rang throughout the castle then, and blessedly meant the end of the tense encounter. Dumbledore spoke up, voice hard, and eyes boring into Rita, "That will be all, I'm afraid. We've taken enough of these fine students' day. And I'm sure they're hungry."

The woman only smirked self-satisfied at the wizened wizard. Perfectly happy with whatever she'd decided to write with her poison pen.

Before Harry was even away from the podium, the Beauxbatons champions made their departure, following primly behind their headmistress. Harry caught Fleur's eye and they shared a brief smile before the doors closed behind her.

Cedric came over and clapped him on the shoulder, "I tell you what, glad it was you and not me."

"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically, still riled up from tit all, "Happy to be of assistance." The older Hufflepuff laughed and headed toward the door.

Viktor was at least a bit more sympathetic, "She's vorst sort of reporter. It's always miserable having to deal with that sort."

"You're telling me." Despite his fame, he'd manage to avoid that sort of thing throughout his life. Seems I'm not going to be that lucky anymore.

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure." They both made their way out of the antechamber toward the Great Hall breaking apart as they entered.

But Harry found that he wasn't particularly hungry. Dealing with Skeeter had left him lacking an appetite. Figuring a quick rest would be the best thing to alleviate his irritation, he decided to head up to the common room. Should at least get rid of the ruddy headache I feel coming on.

He passed a good number of fellow students heading down for lunch but it wasn't until he was on the sixth floor landing that he got stopped, "Harry, not going down for lunch?" Padma was coming down the corridor and looking at him with concern.

"No, just looking to get some rest before the next period." Trying not to let his own frustrations bleed out into his voice, it was obvious from her reaction that he wasn't really succeeding.

Padma looked at him curiously, "Potions was that bad, huh?"

Harry snorted derisively at that, "Hell, I wish it was potions. Snape I can handle. It was Rita bloody Skeeter during the Wand Weighing Ceremony."

Reaching up, Padma rubbed his arm sympathetically, "That bad?"

"She tried to paint me as some danger hunting lunatic, and had the gall to question whether or not my parents would be proud of me! Not to mention the insinuations she made about Fleur!" Harry couldn't' help but yell. There are Death Eaters that are probably more pleasant than that.

"That's horrible." Padma gave his arm a soft squeeze as she looked up at him with those lovely dark eyes. Harry smiled at her appreciatively as she bit her bottom lip and came to a decision. Her hand glided down the length of his arm until she could tangle his fingers with her own, "Come with me…" she told him softly, like she was doing something clandestine.

Not one to protest when a beautiful girl wanted to be alone with him, he let himself be pulled along down the corridor until they came to one of the castle's many covered alcoves. Pulling him inside, she threw off her outer robes and then surprised him when she pushed his back against the wall, "Forceful aren't you?" Harry teased.

"Shush," Padma told him, coy and blushing slightly, "Or I'll reconsider helping you get past your frustration." Before he could say anything else, she leaned up and captured his lips in a searing kiss. Well that's certainly a good way of making me forget about the rest of my morning.

But that wasn't all she had in mind, her fingers went to the snap of his trousers and deftly undid it. Then she had his zipper down and she was pushing them down his thighs until they were at his knees. Her soft hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and she gave his swelling cock a squeeze. She gasped into his mouth at the feel of his hot flesh as it quickly grew in her grasp.

His pants quickly followed his trousers, and his steel hard shaft was in the open air. She pulled away from his lips and looked down at his throbbing length, "Merlin, Harry… do you have any idea how often I've thought about this since the last time?"

"You mean since I had you cumming around my fingers in an alcove just like this?" Harry said with a little smirk, "No I can't say."

She gave his cock a firm squeeze for his cheek that caused him to leak a bead of precum onto her fingers, "You're lucky I like you, you know that? Because you tease me far too much."

"You're fun to tease, Pads." Harry said unrepentantly, "I can't tell you how much I enjoy getting you all flustered… even when you're the one who's… taking the initiative." The way she twisted her hand was making talking a bit more difficult.

Reaching down she wrapped her other hand around his length, and there was still room for another, "You mean like this." It'd never been more apparent to him that she was rather short. His cock was resting nearly at her bellybutton, and when she angled him up his crown bumped into the bottom of her covered tits.

"Yep… just like that." Harry breathed out, hoarse and throaty.

"I want you to feel good, Harry," she whispered up at him, eyes dark with lust and affection, "I want to get rid of all that miserable aggravation the bitch caused you."

"You're doing a pretty damn good job of it." Her hands glided along his length as his cock kept leaking a steady stream of sticky, clear lubricant that she made sure covered as much of him as possible.

"Well, thank you." She said with a naughty little giggle, "But, I'm not done quite yet." Without taking her hands away from his cock, she stepped away from him and bent over at the waist. She made a show of arching her back so that he had a view of her lovely bum. Then she opened her mouth wide and angled his swollen glands toward her waiting mouth.

For the first time he got to feel the beautiful Indian witch's mouth on his cock and it was exquisite. She was careful not to let her teeth touch his sensitive flesh. Her plump lips pushed down the first few inches of his length until they pressed against the top of one of her hands.

"Fuck…" Harry's fingers found her dark, plaited hair. He grabbed her tresses but didn't pull on her. She seemed to know exactly what her limits were, and he couldn't help but notice, "Have you been practicing, Padma? Getting yourself ready for this moment?" It seemed like the sort of thing the studious Ravenclaw would do.

Padma's cheeks darkened almost imperceptibly, but then she nodded with his knob still in her warm mouth, "Aren't you just a brilliant, naughty little 'claw." That seemed to spur her on as she started moving her face back and forth along his veiny shaft.

Glugh. Glugh. Glugh. She bobbed back and forth along his length faster and faster as her tongue lashed against the underside of his sensitive flesh. He could feel the pressure in his groin growing as she worked diligently to tip him over the edge.

It was beautifully lewd, and he couldn't help but reach down and give her plump cheeks a firm smack. That proved to be a brilliant decision as it caused her to moan around him. The vibrations sent a shiver down his spine that left him throbbing with desire.

The caramel beauty surprised him again then as she moved one of her higher hand and tried to push her head further down his shaft. Gack. The gag was immediate, but it didn't deter her one bit. She just kept prodding the back of her throat with his spongy crown as she tried to take more of his cock. The sounds alone were ball-tinglingly delicious, but the feel of her trying to swallow more of him brought him right to the edge.

Then she went and angled her head so that she was looking up at him with her big, brown eyes just pleading with him to reward her for a job well done. He couldn't stop it then, and pulled her down just that little bit more than she could handle. Her hand went to his thigh, but she didn't try to push away as she felt his cock swell in her mouth.

The first rope of cum coated the back of her throat. Choking and gagging, she refused to give up though, and he had to admire her determination. He pulled back slightly, and his seed bathed her pink tongue. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her legs shook. The sinful sensation of her first cum-induced orgasm proved too much and she fell to her knees finally. But with that delicious treat on her tongue, she had no intention of letting his cock out of her mouth.

Cum leaked from the side of her mouth as she suckled on just the tip as his cock recoiled again and again. She moaned like it was her favorite treat in the world as she swallowed everything he had to offer. By the time he was done, he could honestly say that he had no memory of his earlier frustration. How could he when he was looking down at such an impossibly sexy sight?

The beautiful Indian girl made sure to lick him clean and collect every drop she could find. He felt like a king having his member worshipped and serviced so diligently. Still on her knees she smiled up at him, "Feeling better?"

"Much." He said with a genuine laugh.

She beamed up at him before she got a bit shy, "Does… does that always happen?"

"What? You mean will you ruin another pair of knickers every time I fill your mouth?" She blushed and nodded, "In my experience, yes." He couldn't help but chuckle at the dreamy, far away look in her eyes as she glanced at glistening cockhead one more time before they finally righted themselves and left the little alcove.

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