Unexpected Animagus, Part 15

Register of Weight and Measures of the British Changeling

Please Read and Review. I'd like to know what I'm doing right (to keep doing it), and what I am doing wrong (to correct it).

Hogwarts
Hospital Wing

"Could you hold on to this for me, Hermione?" Harry said, giving her the badge, still flashing its insulting message. "I'll see you later, it seems."

"Sure. But what do you want this for? It's just a childish prank?" She turned the badge around, studying it. It was just a metal badge, a simple button, just like hundreds she had seen around. The only special thing about it was the spell work to switch the messages.

"I think it could be useful later." Harry put his outer robe back on. "You better go to Professor McGonagall and let her know what happened in Potions Class. I don't think she will do anything about it, but…"

"Harry!"

"I know. But so far, when has she reverted a single one of Snape's unfair decisions? We can't be the only ones to complain, can we?"

Hermione looked down. "It's just that…"

Harry took her by the shoulders, and spoke softly, "I know. We can talk about it later, right now, let's go." She nodded, her eyes a bit sad with realization. He signaled Colin to join them, and after thanking Madam Pomphrey, the three walked quickly back to the main areas of the castle.

Once they separated at the first intersection, Harry sighed heavily, resigned to his fate. "Okay, Colin, lead the way."

The small kid grinned, happy to have a few minutes with his idol.

Harry didn't have the heart to be angry at him. The inflated reputation of the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't Colin's fault. Maybe he could let him down gradually?

Something to think about.

Still, it was nice to have a civil conversation with another Gryffindor.

Weighting oh the Wands Ceremony

Harry knocked at the door, while Colin hurried to go back to his own classes.

It was a small classroom, already occupied by the three true champions. The centre of the room had been cleared, and the desks had been pushed to the sides, except for three of them, forming a line in front of the blackboard, and covered by a long length of velvet. Behind the desk, five chairs had been set, Ludo Bagman occupied one of the chairs, drumming his fingers impatiently, talking to a witch in magenta robes. He didn't look very pleased by the company.

Cedric spoke animatedly with Fleur, while Krum stood close to a corner, watching in silence while a paunchy man snapped photographs with an old style camera.

Bagman stood up as soon as he realized Harry had entered, "Ah! At last here he is! Come in, Harry! Nothing to worry about! Just the wand weighting ceremony." At Harry's confused face, Bagman added, "We have to certify your wand is fully functional, you know how these things are. We will begin once all the judges are here; and Ollivander, as our internationally certified wand expert, of course." He gestured towards the witch in magenta robes, "This is Rita Skeeter, she's writing a small piece on the Tournament for the Dauly Prophet."

If Bagman was trying to set Harry at ease, he failed miserably, Harry felt the hair at the back of his neck raise, along with the fine hairs on his forearms (1). There was something disquieting in her eyes. There was a kind of hunger there. Harry barely paid attention to her rigid curls, heavy jaw, and jeweled spectacles. But spared a look towards her think fingers. And long, sharp fingernails, painted crimson.

Everything in that woman screamed "Danger" to Harry. 'Ambush Predator. Poisonous.' He thought. 'No way I'll stay willingly in her presence without backup,or at least, witnesses:'

Her saccharine sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Maybe not so little, Ludo. The public will surely want to know more about our Fourth Champion!" She said. "Would you mind if I could have a word with Harry, to add some colour to the article?"

"Of course, Rita!" Ludo acquiesced. "Go ahead!"

She grabbed Harry by the arm, trying to drag him towards a broom closet. "But of course, I think it will be best if we have some privacy, I wouldn't want you distracted!"

Harry set his heels on the floor, resisting the pull. Her hand slipped off Harry´s arm, almost scratching his skin, even under the robe´s sleeve.

"Whats the matter, boy? Don't you want to be famous?" She hissed.

Before Harry could answer, the door opened. To Harry´s relief, Dumbledore and Olivander entered the room, followed by the other judges. He nodded politely towards them, and retreated to join Diggory and Fleur, sparing a quick glance at Crouch. He looked quite normal, despite the long term orders both Junior and Moody had implanted into his subconscious mind. However, Moody had added a little tell, so they could know if he was still a sleeper agent. Crouch pulled at the lobe of his right ear. Unknowingly signaling he was still under orders.

Harry missed the exact words of the conversation between Dumbledore and Skeeter, but judging by the tone, they were definitively not friends.

Transfiguration Classroom

"You should not have skipped Potions Class, Miss Granger. I'm afraid Professor Snape's punishment stands."

Hermione looked at Professor McGonagall, barely able to believe her words. The punishment was patently unfair, and should have been, at least, discussed by the two professors.

She swallowed her pride, and at that moment, most of the admiration Hermione had felt for the stern Transfiguration Teacher dried up. Harry had been right. McGonagall would not help them.

"I doubt your returning to class now would do much good for the day. You'll stay during the sixth year class with the Ravenclaw students, but won't be allowed to ask questions or disrupt the class. Is that clear, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall. Very clear." Hermione mumbled. This would be the last time she asked for the older woman's help.

Weighting oh the Wands Ceremony

Rita Skeeter fumed in a corner, deprived of the chance to corner Harry. She dug into her purse, and extracted a roll of parchment, and a quill that smelled like poison to Harry's senses. Even its colour was a warning. It was a toxic, acid, green that set his teeth on edge.

Dumbledore presented Olivander to the panel of judges, "Mr. Olivander will check the Champions´wands, to certify they are in optimal condition, fully functional, and able to perform, before the Tournament begins in form."

Olivander stood in fron to the judges, and extended his right hand to Fleur. "Mademoiselle Delacoeur, could we have you first, please?"

Gracefully, she swept over towards him, and handed him her wand, handle first.

The results of the examination were interesting, her wand contained a hair from her grandmother, a Veela.

Next, it was Cedric´s turn. No surprises there, Olivander had made and sold that wand. His memory and ability to recall details about the make and owner of each wand amazed Harry. The old man must have made and sold hundreds, if not thousands of wands during his life, and apparently, he remembered each single wand, along with its owner, without hesitation.

Harry felt a little self-conscious at the condition of his own wand. But one of the things Moody insisted upon, specially in class, was proper care and maintenance of tools and equipment, including wands and portkeys. Neither Moody's nor Harry's wands looked pristine, but both were in proper working condition. Harry suppressed a smile, thinking. ´CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Olivander took his time checking Krum's wand, as it had been made by one of his rivals. Gregorovitch. Harry thought that with that surname, the family would probably be from Russia or one of its satellite countries. For a moment, he wondered if the maps of the Muggle and the magical governments matched exactly, or if there was a divergence.

Finally, it was Harry´s turn to present his wand to be examined.

Fortunately, Olivander was as disinclined as Harry to discuss the origins of the phoenix feather that was the core of his wand. Neither wanted to announce that the feather was part of a set of two, and the other feather was at the core of Voldemort´s wand.

Still, Olivander took his time to check the wand, finally announcing it was in perfect condition, handing it back to Harry without further comment. Idly, Harry wondered why the ceremony was called "Weighting of the Wands" if at no moment the wands had been actually weighted. "Checking of the Wands" would have been more accurate, he thought.

Dumbledore stood up, "Thank you all. You may return to your lessons now," he paused for a few seconds, "…on second thought, maybe it will be quicker if you just go down to dinner, as the last class period is already about to end."

Before Harry could leave, the camera man cleared his throat, grabbing his camera significatively. Bagman stood up enthusiastically, "Photos, Dumbledore! Photos!"

Rita said, "Yes, group shots first, then individual champions."

That took a long time.

Great Hall

Hermione and Harry ate almost alone, ostracized by most of their classmates. The only exception was Neville Longbottom.

"They are very angry about the points." He explained. "We are in last place now."

Hermione sighed heavily. "We are not the most popular people right now, I know."

"Nope." Neville admitted. "If there was Quidditch this year, Harry could at least win back some good will, but they cancelled it."

"Why would they do that?" Harry wondered, "It makes no sense." He paused, "Unless…"

Hermione looked at him. Both spoke at the same time, "Unless they will use the place for the Tournament."

Neville looked at them. "But why? The Quidditch pitch has a lot of space, and also a lot of seats. Theres no lack of space."

"Hermione?" Harry turned to her, "You studied the historical records. Are there trends?"

She thought about it for a few moments. "The First Task tends to be a contest against some kind of magical creature. Always a dangerous one."

"Like a Cockatrice in the last Tournament, right?" Harry speared a potato with his fork.

"Yeah, but I doubt they will repeat that one. It killed a lot of people in the audience."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "You remember the danger rating of the creatures?"

"Ill have to check my notes to be sure, but I think it´s been a few four x creatures; the majority have been five x."

Neville paled, "Then, it will be a Wizard Killer? And really big?"

Harry nodded, "I think we can rule out a basilisk. One would be difficult to find, and the fatalities would be appalling if it got free. Not just petrifications, but actual deaths."

Hermione nodded. "An Erumpent? They are about the size of a rhino, and aggressively territorial when it's their mating season."

"Doubt it. Not flashy enough, and the timing is wrong. Their mating season is in the spring, isn't it?. And they are four x creatures. Not dangerous enough."

Neville added, "A Blast-ended Skrewt?" He proposed timidly.

"Too new. Not for the first event, at least. Hagrid is raising them for the Tournament, I'm sure, but not for a main event. More like an obstacle."

"Another thing, whatever they bring, it has to be controlled until the tournament. It will be something that cant be found here at Hogwarts." Hermione shook her head, "Acromantulas would fit the bill, but I don't think Hagrid would volunteer them, the young ones are too small, and the big ones are too smart."

"Then what?" Neville asked.

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, worrying her lower lip. "So, a big creature, very dangerous, relatively easy to obtain, very aggressive too."

Harry facepalmed, and mumbled something, the words muffled by his hands. He then proceeded to bump his forehead against the table several times.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

He snorted, "A dragon. I am sure we will be facing a Merlin-damned dragon."

Hermione and Neville went pale as paper. Neither noticed the look of deep thought on Ron Weasley´s face.

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom
Hermione's Detention.

Mad Eye Moody paced around the room, stomping angrily around. "Merlin's Twisted Socks!" He grumbled. "You have a good theory, lass. Very good theory. I'll check with a couple of acquaintances at the ministry. Our own dragon preserve is small, and has few dragons, mostly young ones, or very old, Riddle's followers did a number on the adult population, and the dragons have not recovered yet. The ones that remain are not dangerous enough for a good show. If, and I remark, IF, you are right, the Ministry will have to import several dragons."

"Not just one?" Hermione asked, her tea forgotten on the desk.

"Ha! No! I know how those idiots at the Ministry think. They will want to pit each champion versus a dragon. One fresh for the fight, not one tired or wounded by previous contenders. So they will bring four beasts. And different breeds too, so no champion can learn from their predeceased, I mean, predecessors' mistakes."

"What can we do? How can Harry fight an adult dragon?"

"There are ways, but most of them require a full team of dragon handlers. Them beasties are very resistant to magic, that's why dragon-hide armor is so valued."

"Is that the best armour?"

"The best that can be bought for a manageable amount of money, yes. The only hide that has a better rating would be…" He trailed off for a moment. "Basilisk skin. Didn't Potter kill one in the Chamber of Secrets back in 1992?"

"Well, yes, but it must be rotted by now!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, that's what you would think, but no. Basilisk flesh doesn't rot. It is too poisonous for that. Kills them germs that cause the rotting. It just mummifies instead. And in a humid place? Would take decades! I'll have to check it, and find a good artisan to fashion Potter armor on his size, but at least he would be somewhat protected."

"Wouldn't that infringe on the rule about helping the champions?" Hermione asked.

"I have checked the rules, lass. Many times, and though I'm not a Solicitor, I can find loopholes Dark Wizards could use to their advantage in all kind of contracts. The way the rules are phrased, I can't help by sharing knowledge with him or any other champion." He put a finger over his mouth, cutting Hermione's question. Once he was sure there would be no question, he nodded, and continued. "I can't give him magical artifacts either. Helping him harvest an animal he hunted by himself? That I can do, I'm not giving him anything magical, it's already his. Suggesting an artisan to create armour? He can do whatever he wants with his property. It won't be magical by itself, anyway. Sulphur and Devils! The hide is magic resistant, so it doesn't really count, it won't be magical armour."

"I see." Hermione said.

A chime sounded. "Time's up. You better go to your detention with Filch. I'll deal with Snape later. He is not the only one who can get creative with points." His face parted in a macabre grin. One that didn't augur good times for a Severus Snape blood pressure.

Author Notes

To ReviewerPops

Chapter 11

Moody is paranoid enough to not want to risk it. The Goblet of Fire has been Confounded once, and who knows how it would react to a technicality. Hence, the indirect teaching method. By teaching Hermione (without discussing any possibility of her teaching Harry the same stuff), he can help Harry with knowledge, and not only magical, but also strategic thinking. The question Moddy stops Hermione from asking was related to this indirect help.

Plus, there's another layer that had not been discussed in story; by now, he knows that Hermione, just by being Harry's friend, is is an undetermined amount of risk herself (Ron has removed himself from the equation at this point), so teaching her gives her a better chance to survive, in case she gets directly involved. (What are the chances of that?)

To Guest

Chapter 14

I thought I had given away the Chekhov's Guns in this chapter! There is a bit of filler in the chapter, true; but also some setting up for future events.

Numbered notes:

(1) The bit about the forearms hair standing up in warning comes from the Ciaphas Cain's novels, in the Warhammer 40,000 setting. Being a self-described coward, Cain has finely tuned danger senses, the most frequent is a tingling on the palms of his hands, warning him of a potentially dangerous situation. The forearm hair is reserved for when combat is already upon him.