Beta: Digitize27
I answer questions about this story on by forum. Link in profile.
Things are changing now that the semester ended. Stay tuned for scheduling updates as I get my situations under control.
I wanted to also thank you all for making this story the most followed Fanfiction published in the last six months.
Further, I have gotten some concerns about this story incorporating the 'Unavoidable' Graveyard scene. It won't.
I want to apologize to any fans of Russian folklore. I will be butchering it in the name of plot. (Even more than I have so far.) So if you see something and you think 'that's not right' then you are most likely correct.
I only have snippets of the tale in question here but it is possible for those interested to find the whole thing online with a quick search.
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"Hell hath no fury" - William Congreve
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Daphne slowed her heartbeat as she stepped off the train. She tried to use her occlumency exercises to remove the slight body buzz he gave her,walking on slightly shaky legs. Occlumency just made her think of him more. Thinking of him more just reminded her how close they had stood where he looked down on her with those bright eyes. His dark wild hair had been matted to his forehead with the light sweat he had worked up dueling.
The gentle odor of him still tickled her nose, the light tang of ozone could be picked out amongst his smell.
Was it bad that she found the light scent of his sweat and his worked form attractive?
Get it together, get it together, get it together…
She sung in her thoughts.
What must he think of her, she had almost fled from confronting him once, then at the end of their conversation she did so anyway.
Running away. Yeah, that's very attractive.
She was able to push the thought away. Harry probably hadn't even really noticed, let alone cared about something like that. Unless he had been in her thoughts, then he would know everything. Then he would care simply because she cared. That would be terrib-
Not so bad, really.
She shoved those conflicting thoughts away, too.
"So… what was that about?" Susan joined her as she walked to the dining hall, interrupting Daphne's internal ramblings.
"That was the woman whose daughter tried to cross the age line using a memory charm," Daphne broke herself out of her thoughts and refocused to answer. "She holds Harry responsible, evidently." Shemuttered the last bit.
"I caught that part." Susan was giving Daphne an appraising look and they walked quietly for a few paces.
"He's adjusted well to the wizarding world, don't you think?" She asked, breaking the tenuous silence.
"Who? Harry?" Daphne started, surprised. She had been sinking into her thoughts again.
Susan rolled her eyes. "Of course Harry. Usually when someone is raised muggle it takes them forever to fit in. Just look at Granger."
"I suppose he has. He never really fit into the muggle world, though." Daphne hesitated. "What do you mean by 'just look at Granger?'"
"Well she doesn't understand magic, does she? She even does magic in such a muggle way. I mean don't get me wrong, she's good at it but… do you know what I mean? It's hard to- like, look at what she's doing with house elves. Her perspective is just so… muggle."
"What's this about house elves?" Daphne asked.
"I heard she trying to free them in Hogwarts."
"Did no one tell her that they'll die? That they like working?"
Susan just shook her head. "Evidently not. But that's the point though, Harry had none of that."
"Well Harry isn't exactly-"
"Normal, obviously." Daphne could tell that Susan had to fight rolling her eyes again. "He's a bit barmy."
"Harry isn't barmy," Daphne defended immediately. "Everything he does is for a reason."
Usually more than one.
"It's like I told you on the train," Daphne continued. "Unless you do something to him he'll leave you alone, and if you ask he'll usually help."
"It's the asking part that's intimidating, though." Susan pointed out. "And, I mean, when you said he wanted to see me before he taught me anything, he just took one look and agreed. It's weird, even for a wizard. Thanks for convincing him, by the way."
"I only convinced him to see you," Daphne reminded. "And you didn't lie to him, which helps."
"I still don't get that."
"Harry doesn't like being lied to, and he can always tell."
"You didn't warn me about that!" Susan protested.
"It would have just scared you."
"It would really help you convince everyone that he isn't scary if you didn't say things like that." Susan waved her off. "At any rate, I can still get you the case file."
"You said you wouldn't be able to sneak into DMLE records until summer," Daphne gave Susan a surprised look.
"That hasn't changed, but I'll still get your father's file for you. You don't need to worry about my side, is all. You just make sure your terrifying boyfriend teaches me and I'll get it for you."
"Harry will keep his word," Daphne affirmed.
They stepped into the dining area and took their seats to watch the presentation of the cup choosing its champions. The Copper Lady took her seat at the head table as a guest of honor, looking on dispassionately on the stream of students. The lumbering man stood behind her quietly and impassively.
Daphne felt a familiar little rush of jealousy when she looked again at the regal stature of the woman. Sure, she knew she was a beautiful girl, but she wasn't womanly. She found herself wondering if she could ever have that same distant duchess disposition.
At best, Daphne sat at her table, the lukewarm princess of Slytherin, while there, across the room, presided the Stone-Cold Empress of Russia.
The woman gave Daphne a small, stately smile, her eyes filled with a sort of amusement. Daphne looked away.
"Harry's a no-show again?" Michael asked.
Daphne shook her head, "he doesn't care about the tournament."
The hall was swollen with students, all wearing their official uniforms. Highmaster Karkaroff's beard was neatly trimmed and Madam Maxine wore elegant silks embroidered in the colors of her school. It was more of a feast compared to the usual set meals, and the British Head of the Department of International Cooperation sat back in conversation with his French equivalent.
Dumbledore made a slight gesture with his wand and the room dimmed as Madam Maxine stepped forward.
"The Goblet has made its decision, I feel. When the representatives' names are released I shall call them." She paused her booming voice for a moment. "The first task is set for Saturday, November the Fifth, and shall test both the resolve and daring of the champions."
She stepped across to hover next to the Goblet in the center of the room.
The flames inside the goblet sparked and flashed crimson, a wisp from the cup released a charred piece of parchment into the air. The ribbon floated downward in a pendulum fashion briefly before it was caught, a large hand reaching out to snatch the delicate paper.
Daphne had to blink in surprise because she hadn't expected the large woman to be so dexterous.
"The champion for Durmstrang shall be Viktor Krum," her booming voice carried.
"The Quidditch player?" Daphne turned to her table for confirmation only to receive a shrug from Su and an astonished look and affirming nod from Ernie.
"I can't think of a better competitor myself," Ernie informed them in his pompous manor.
Viktor received cheers and rose for the applause before returning to his seat even as his Highmaster praised him.
"The champion for Beauxbatons shall be none other than-" the large woman grabbed the paper from the air again, "Fleur Delacour."
The Veela girl rose to her feet in a graceful fashion and tossed her hair over her shoulder in such a smooth motion that Daphne wanted to curse her. She must not have been the only one who didn't like the selection because two other Beauxbatons members broke down into tears and she could see forlorn expressions on some of the faces.
"Would you quit drooling!" Su Li smacked Michael's arm hard.
"Er...I...uh-hey!" Michael managed in protest.
The Veela sat back down as the flames rose again from the stone goblet and out flew the last ribbon.
"The Hogwarts champion is… Harry Potter?"
The hall was silent, and Daphne immediately felt heads and eyes fall upon their group before whispering broke out. Daphne was stunned, and she was sure she gaped like Michael had just done.
Harry had told her he wasn't interested in the tournament. He had no interest in things like the tournament. Had never displayed any desire to be involved in any capacity with this tournament. It didn't make any sense.
Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet and his gaze swept the area until it landed on her. She felt a touch just barely on the inside of her skull. She almost leaned into the familiar brush before she paused.
It wasn't Harry. First of all, she knew that Harry wasn't here so it wasn't him.
But it also didn't feel like him, it was more… rough? Calloused? That wasn't accurate. The fingers against her were gentle but the mind felt… they felt like not-Harry. They were non-Harry. They lacked the quintessential Harry-ness that all of Harry's probes felt like that made it abundantly clear that this was, truly, not Harry.
She jumped and rocked backward emptying her thoughts and twisting her mind away from the fingers, it was the strategy that worked best against Harry in their practice. Just don't give the intruder any hold.
"Ms. Greengrass," Dumbledore began quietly from his where he stood. If he was surprised by her resistance to him it didn't show on his face. "You wouldn't happen to know Mr. Potter's whereabouts would you?"
She cleared her throat, "he mentioned the library, sir."
Dumbledore made a contemplative noise. Before he returned to his seat.
He wasn't smiling.
Madam Maxine had turned back to Dumbledore and rose to an impressive height. Something must have made her words falter and though Karkaroff turned towards Dumbledore with a smile that never reached his eyes, he opened his mouth and closed it again.
Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling.
The large woman turned back to the crowd of students and silenced it with her presence. "These are your Triwizard Tournament contenders. Please wish them the best of luck and be sure to cheer for them this coming Saturday."
It was a dismissal and some students rose to leave but many more stayed, rejoining in gossiping circles.
"I believe that it shall be curfew shortly," Madam Maxine hammered. This time everyone rose from their seats.
Dumbledore was sweeping towards the exit in an orderly fashion, looking as powerful and wizened as ever. He didn't even appear to be in a rush.
"I thought you said he wasn't interested in the tournament," Susan tapped Daphne's shoulder.
"I thought he said he couldn't get through," Michael continued.
Daphne stuttered, "he couldn't… he wasn't… he thought…" She shook her head and stood, rushing to catch the Headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" He didn't so much as glance at her nor did he change his pace.
"Ms. Greengrass, I apologize for the intrusion. That was quite rude of me. I wished to find out more as soon as possible. That is no excuse, but as Harry's closest friend it was possible that you may know something about this. Though, I should have expected his closest confidant to be proficient with mind magic, an oversight on my part."
As much as she wanted to be offended her emotions were too rampant to stomach another competitor.
"Sir, he doesn't care about the tournament, something must be wrong."
"You believe that he didn't enter his name?"
That was the big question. Did she trust what Harry had told her even in the face of everything that shouted that he had, in fact, lied to her.
"Yes," she affirmed. It didn't even take that long to process. Aside from not being in his character, he would have been here to see the fruits of his labor if he had.
And I don't think he would lie to me.
Did she want to think that he wouldn't lie to her? Could she even trust her own thoughts around Harry?
"He wouldn't have put his name in the cup. He didn't!"
Dumbledore slowed his walk just for a moment and finally turned towards her.
"You suspect foul play?"
The Green Empress smirked down at Dumbledore. The headmaster only shook his head.
"Please return to the Hogwarts Express, Ms. Greengrass," Dumbledore continued quietly. "I shall collect Mr. Potter."
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*And one of the merchants drew out of his pocket a little casket, and he had no sooner opened it than a lovely garden spread out all over the island, with fragrant flowers and pleasant paths; but when he shut the casket the garden immediately disappeared.
The second merchant drew from beneath the folds of his garment an axe, and began to tap with it: "Rap-tap!" out came a ship. "Rap-tap!" out came another ship. A hundred times he rapped, and made a hundred ships with sails and guns and crews complete; the ships sailed, and the sailors stood by the guns and took orders from the merchant.
The merchant gloried in it for a while, but then he concealed his axe and the ships vanished out of sight just as if they had never been.
The third merchant produced a horn, blew into one end of it, and immediately an army appeared, both horse and foot, with cannons and banners, and through all the ranks went the roll of martial music, and the armour of the warriors flashed like fire in the sunlight. The merchant rejoiced in it all, then he took his horn and blew into the other end of it, and there was nothing to be seen, the whole of that martial might was no more.*
Harry was most of the way through this Russian story and he had yet to see whatever it was that the former Dark Lord had wanted him to see in it.
Unless it really was just a fictional recommendation for some reading material. That made Harry pause. He hadn't even considered that.
In which case Grindelwald had wasted his time.
Harry nearly jumped at the rap against the door. A long flowing white beard and garish golden robes loomed outside. Harry curled his hand and the door opened in response to his magic.
"Sir?"
"We missed you at dinner tonight, Harry." Dumbledore paced comfortably into the room.
"I've been avoiding common meal times."
"Because of Madam Malachite?" Dumbledore seemed a little surprised.
"It seemed wise given your advice."
"She scares you," Dumbledore stated, taking a seat at the table.
"She dueled Grindelwald."
"Ah."
"You seem surprised, sir."
"I suppose I am surprised that I am not surprised. I should have expected that you would know that." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and reclined slightly. "What do you know about the history of the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Not much. I know it was cancelled when the audience was killed by a rampaging beast," Harry answered honestly.
"You don't know more about the history of the tournament?"
Harry shook his head.
"Ah." Dumbledore seemed slightly pleased. "Harry, your name came out of the Goblet of Fire."
Harry was sure he blinked dumbly like one of Malfoy's lackeys before he mastered himself.
"What?"
"You seem surprised. But I must ask you whether you put your name into the goblet."
Harry thumbed his jaw and shook his head. "No sir, I've been-" -hiding- "-busy." He gestured to the room.
Dumbledore nodded and stroked his beard. "I believe you Harry. I very much doubt that you couldn't get past my line, however, you would most assuredly have read more about the tournament if it had caught your interest."
Harry wanted to scowl at the sorcerer's clever approach.
"Is there a way out for me?"
"I'm afraid that the magics of the Goblet are quite compelling."
"Compelling how?" Harry asked.
"There are punishments in place if one chooses not to compete and their name came out. The magic can force you to move down to the agreed places for the tournament, inflict pain, or it can even reward you for following its directives."
"Like the imperius curse." Harry's mind clicked the comparison.
"Yes." Dumbledore stroked his beard while eyeing Harry pensively. "Though there are other things the cup can do, these are some of the most basic. It's rare that a person persists in resisting the goblet even after these afflictions."
"Can I break the spell?"
"The spell could be shattered, but bear in mind it is a powerful magical artefact. Attempting to overwhelm it could kill you or cause you harm."
"So I have to compete," Harry affirmed.
"You don't have to, Harry. Very rarely will your life be divided into necessities. We always have our choices and they always stand by us, even if it seemed our only option at the time. Though I would encourage you to not fight the Goblet. Withstanding it may indeed be more dangerous than the tournament."
"I'll have to start reading about the tournament, then."
"The first task is this Saturday, but there will be a weighing of wands on Wednesday. You'll be excused from classes for it."
"So soon?"
"The first task is designed to test the boldness of the champions. Giving you time would only test your cleverness in discovering what the test was and how to overcome it." The Headmaster's eyes twinkled.
"Cheating, you mean."
"Now Harry, if I'm not mistaken it is getting rather close to your curfew." Dumbledore ignored him and rose from the seat he had occupied in a smooth motion.
"Wait, what about Malachite?"
The Headmaster's face twitched towards a scowl for only a moment. "I take it you believe that she is somehow responsible for this? Your friend, Ms. Greengrass, seemed to believe the same."
"She does want to kill me, she as good as told me so herself when she cornered me."
"She has put us in a bit of a bind, yes? It certainly appears as though I am playing favorites to my legal charge and this shall cast shade on my political positions and even my competency as Headmaster." Harry must have appeared alarmed because the professor continued. "I don't want you worrying about politics, Harry. I must ask you to focus on surviving the tournament and to trust me."
"That isn't to say that you should ignore Madam Malachite, I fancy that would be a poor decision, and as matter of fact, I would consider it a personal favor were you to get into the habit of carrying your father's cloak with you. One should never underestimate the value of avoiding confrontations."
"My cloak?" Harry asked. "Meer invisibility won't hide me from her."
"Your cloak is an exceptional artifact, indeed, I believe you could have used it to cross my age ward."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. It is quite the extraordinary device." Dumbledore left with a wink.
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"There has to be some way to get you out of the tournament." Daphne joined him in the library in the early morning. He smiled when he felt her approach. She had never for a moment thought that he had put his name in. Never for a moment doubted him. He felt a rush of fondness towards her.
He touched her mind in greeting. For a moment he hung there, wanting nothing more than to dive a little deeper. He battled the temptation and rested against the edge of her skull. Somewhere between being isolated and being surrounded.
He knew she could feel it from the flurry of activity his touch induced but she didn't protest. Instead she sat down and scanned his workspace. "What are these?"
"Now that I am competing in the tournament I decided to research its history." Harry flicked to the next page in a thick tome about the subject. "The first task seems to involve beasts or dangerous traps. They always have a simple goal, though."
Harry read through an article about a tournament task that surrounded getting past dragons. Dragons were pretty bad.
"We have to get you out of the tournament," Daphne insisted. "How does the Goblet force you to compete?" Harry ran through another article before Daphne hit his arm. "Harry!"
"According to Dumbledore the Goblet can inflict punishments on those who don't compete. Often horrific ones."
"That seems like a magical contract." Daphne pursed her lips.
"Or like the imperius curse," He agreed, ignoring the odd feelings that came from Daphne when he said that.
"Since you're not seventeen you can't enter a contract," Daphne tried.
"The Goblet predates modern wizarding law," Harry countered. "It doesn't care."
"Well since you didn't enter your name it wasn't you, so while it can compel someone to compete, it doesn't have to be you. It should strike out against the person who put your name in."
"The Goblet only cares about the name that went in." Harry looked up, considering. "I suppose if you found another Harry Potter from Hogwarts, then they could compete in my place, but aside from that…"
"So there's no way to get you out?"
Her concern felt warm against his chest. His probe touched a little deeper to relish the affection. Harry shook his head with a smile. "Which is why I am focusing on surviving it."
"And Malachite," Daphne reminded. "You know that she put you in the tournament, right?"
"Dumbledore thinks so too," Harry agreed nodding. "She's also causing him political problems."
"How so?"
"He said that it reflects poorly on him; that his legal ward got through his line and is competing despite all the rules."
"I can see how that can be an issue," Daphne ran that through her mind a few times. "Lucius Malfoy is always looking for a reason to remove him as Headmaster. Someone might even try to move you from out of his care." Daphne gave Harry a slightly exasperated look. "You have a Godfather right? Sirius Black?"
Harry nodded. "He was ruled unfit for guardianship."
"That was fourteen years ago." Daphne pink lips stayed pursed in thought. "It'll cause Dumbledore problems to try and defend you. It'll be a conflict of interest since he'd be guardian, lawyer, and Chief Warlock. Plu,s this happened to you while under his care as Headmaster and when he is supposed to be neutral for the tournament. Which doesn't look good for his international relations at the ICW."
"Daphne." Harry set his book down. "I need you to pretend, for just a moment, that I have no idea what you are talking about."
She laughed but rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it. It's just a bit of scandal for him. All you need to know is that if the question of his guardianship over you is brought up, he'll have to call in a lot of favors to keep it."
"And that's bad?"
"It isn't good." Daphne considered for a moment. "All of Dumbledore's posts, Mugwump, Chief Warlock, and Headmaster, are all politically neutral offices. Hell, Headmaster isn't really an office, just a respected position. He's so powerful because he stays neutral. Sure, he does push policies with certain voting blocks in the Wizengamot using people who are his allies. But he keeps so much power because he is respected, because he stays neutral and makes Britain look good. You know? Like bragging rights in the international community."
"This favoritism looks bad on him and you getting selected at this whole international affair makes Britain look bad. He has a seat at the ICW as Mugwump because he is supposed to be an internationally trusted figure. He's supposed to be neutral and not favor Britain, let alone his own legal charge and educational prodigy."
"So people now have ammunition against him," Harry tried.
"That's a good way of putting it, but it's not the whole picture. It's also a blow to his reputation, and Dumbledore's political influence comes from his reputation. It's also not good for you. It makes you look like a brat who gets what he wants because he's famous and has a powerful 'Dad.'" Daphne bit her lip. "But you shouldn't worry about that. You should focus on living."
Harry snorted. "I'll do my best. Which is why I should be researching."
"They aren't going to use the same events."
"But they should be similar." Harry thumbed his jaw. "There are common threads. See, this one involved getting past some dragons and collecting a clue for the next task." Harry pointed the article out for her in the book. "And this one was just a measurement of the amount of time the champions could withstand Dementors." He pointed to the next one. "This one here was escaping an acromantula nest. Two of them died in that one. They all seem to involve magical creatures."
"So you're just going to come up with a plan to beat every magical creature?" Daphne dripped sarcasm.
"I was just hoping that it will involve snakes." Harry cut back facetiously, closing the book for emphasis. Daphne gave a soft giggle.
Daphne stood up again. "Well I'm going to get breakfast. I don't suppose you want to come with me?" Harry shook his head.
He released her as she left, lingering as though they had parted after holding hands, still reaching out.
Harry drew Grindelwald's sheet of paper out of his stacks.
I've finished reading 'Go I know not whither and fetch I know not what.'
And?
I'm not sure I saw what you were hoping I would.
The magical artefacts. The wand, the cloak, and the stone.
The only comparable artefacts were the axe, casket, and horn.
You read the muggle version. Find the magical version.
That's rather frustrating. Harry shook that feeling aside. Grindelwald's help had been invaluable, a single evening of wasted time wasn't an expensive price for all that he had gained from the convict.
It seems likely that I will be confronting a powerful magical creature soon.
Why?
Malachite entered me into the Triwizard tournament to kill me and the first task usually involves one.
What sorts of creatures?
Grindelwald's concern for his heir was shining through.
Dragons, manticores, chimeras. A rogue cockatrice killed half the spectators last time and so it was cancelled until now. The creatures are typically featured from the XXXX or higher category of creatures.
You aren't expected to battle these creatures.
Usually the task doesn't revolve around actually fighting the creature. The task involving dragons was about stealing from their nest.
That might be have been more dangerous than just battling it. You must attempt to discover what the creature is, there is no counter to the unknown.
That would be cheating.
Would you rather die?
Grindelwald had a good point.
And if I can't find a way to learn about it?
A few personal wards would help you survive. Not only in this but in the world at large. A flame retarding spell for your clothes. An acid repelling ward. Basic spells that those who handle such creatures are versed in would be useful. Transfiguring your skin into stone or metal would help.
Harry had been noting the ideas with agreement and forming a mental list and frowned at the last one.
My self-transfiguration is not nearly that good.
How would you rate your skill?
Practically non-existent.
Sloppy of you. I was self-transfiguring when I was twelve. And your conjuration?
Though he wanted to defend himself, he ignored the abrasive nature of the warlock in favor of the advice and question.
I can do about twenty kilos before I'm exhausted.
Harry confessed, scratching it with a quill into the paper. His conjuration was NEWT-level but he knew Grindelwald could summon metric tons of material. He had seen it in the duel, after all.
How is it that the apprentice of Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald is a poor transfigurer? That will need to be rectified.
He felt he was a better transfigurer than most by far.
For now, I will teach you several personal wards I designed. Blade ward and life repelling shell.
Harry grinned. This was why he put up with the former Dark Lord's attitude.
The incantation for the blade ward is mucruitio. The wand movement is a diagonal slash bearing one-hundred-and-fifty degrees downwards followed by a sixty degree clockwise twist. It is designed to surround the caster with edges that will bite into anything close. Do not imagine surrounding yourself with lasting blades of air. This is would be exhaustive. Instead imagine transfiguring the space around you into something sharp. You'll want to cast it while not standing close to things you care about.
The incantation for the shell is repello vivem and its function is exactly as it sounds. From a point centered on you, living things won't be able to approach unless the spell is broken. This ward will not stop inferi, inanimate objects or spells. The wand movement is a clockwise rotation from forwards ninety degrees before snapping back. You will want to imagine a resistance deep in your bones to all things alive and charm them away.
Go practice.
The instructions were vague but as Harry frantically copied the instructions into his notebook before the ink could fade, he felt confident he could manage the spells within the week. He stood from his room and gathered a book on magical creature care which held several spells that one should consider casting on themselves before handling them.
He smirked inwardly as he realized he really was coming up with a plan to beat every creature. Daphne would get a kick out of that.
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Harry ignored any stares he received and no one seemed comfortable confronting him. Perhaps the lesson that challenging him was a bad idea was finally starting to sink in.
Or perhaps not. Tuesday, outside of the Hogwarts express, Harry clawed his fingers and the brave seventeen-year-old Gryffindor, Alicia Spinnet, who had challenged him, choked on nothing when the air around her stopped responding to the movement of her lungs.
He took a deep breath to show off that he could as her hands went to her chest and eyes bugged out slightly.
"Either I didn't trick the Goblet and my name came out, indicating I am the greatest possible champion for Hogwarts. Or-" he took another exaggerated inhalation of fresh salty air as Spinnet finally fell to her knees, "-or I did trick the Goblet, making my magical puissance far greater than yours." He paused again before continuing slowly. "Neither of which you can be particularly upset about." On his last syllable he released her and strode towards Beauxbatons.
He had heard, through Daphne, that the several seventh-years for Hogwarts who had put their name in were also furious.
The other schools were too, allegedly. He couldn't see why. They should be happy that their seventh-year competition from Hogwarts had been replaced by a mere fourth-year ''ittle boy.'
Dumbledore had been asked very politely to step down from his position as tournament judge and he had graciously agreed. Harry could only imagine the real political storm that the headmaster was weather in his more important positions.
Wednesday, Harry found himself waiting, nearly thirty minutes early, in a courtyard garden draped with flowering vines and pale blue trellises. Madam Maxine towered in, followed closely by Fleur Delacour next. Maxxine seemed content to dismiss Harry but Ms Delacour gave him a rather foul look. Then came the French Manager of International Relations, Antonio Badinter, who came in speaking amiably with a slim witch Harry had no name or identity for. Last waltzed in Highmaster Karkaroff with yellowed teeth flashing and an arm draped around Victor Krum whose brows were furrowed tightly. Krum gave Harry a look like he was trying to decide what kind of mental box Harry should be sorted into or like he was attempting a difficult puzzle. He at least didn't seem particularly hostile towards him.
"Will Dumbledore not be joining us?" Badinter looked around with dark eyes. "It's getting about time." He finally settled on Harry, expecting him to respond.
"My understanding was that Dumbledore no longer has any official capacity over the tournament." Harry answered in clear French. "Why would he join us?"
Badinter nodded his head in a bobbing fashion. He had a long mustache and goatee which seemed content to join in on the movement. "Yes well. Can't be helped. In fact, I suppose it was to be expected. At any rate it is my pleasure to introduce you all to Madame Perenelle Flamel." Harry's eyes snapped to the woman. "As you can imagine, she is experienced with alchemy and wandlore as much as any other you could bear to name. She'll be examining your wands this afternoon."
She didn't look a day over forty, though Harry knew full well she was over five centuries old. With short cut red hair and robes held in place with thin twine. She could easily have worn a dress made of solid gold and the finest riches, instead her robes looked worn down and well-loved as Harry's old clothing back at Privet Drive had been.
She glanced around them with a free smile until her eyes settled on Victor Krum. "Why don't we start with you. Last to arrive and first to go and what not." Her words were full of an odd timeless mirth, so no real offense could be taken from them. Krum waddled his way forward and held his wand out from the pocket of his robes, his hands barely receding as though to grab his wand back quickly. Harry could relate to that feeling.
"Ah, a Gregorovitch family wand if ever there was one. Highly stylized and what not, what with these knots here and here. Who is the current living wand maker from the Gregorovitch family? I'm afraid I've forgotten."
She turned back towards Badinter for an answer but it was Krum who responded. "Mykew Gregorovitch."
She gave a soft 'hmm' and returned to the wand, nodding slightly as she did. "Hornbeam and dragon heartstring. A classic Ollivander-esque core. A larger radius than average and non-flexible. Ten and a quarter inches." She gave it a slight flick and a vase came out fully formed to land in the crook of her elbow. "This wand is in perfect condition." She returned it to Krum's still waiting hands.
She gestured for him to shew away with a gesture of her hands and turned towards Ms. Delacour. "Now you darling may I see…" She accepted the proffered wand. "Customized, oh yes, very customized. Nine and a half inches with an unusual core. Rose if I'm not mistaken. I'm afraid I don't recognize the maker's style, though they were unusually competent to get such a core to work - well. Nevertheless." She punctuated herself by jabbing the wand forward. Flowers, sweet roses and orchids fell into an outstretched hand placed to catch them. "Lovely, yes quite so. It's all in working order, assuming such a tempermental match works for you."
"Now for you, let me see." Harry stepped forward and offered his wand. "Holly and phoenix feather. Quite a match. Very rare, hard to get working. The holly tends away from such things and phoenix demands dominance. An Ollivander wand, though, and if I've seen one, I've seen one hundred. But why change what works? You know Albus mentioned you recently to myself and my husband. It's very rare to see such magic from your age. Very rare indeed. Yes, eleven inches in total. Quite the nimble little thing, isn't it? Though, of course it would have to be, wouldn't it?"
She gave it a swish over the vase and a small cloud formed and filled with water. The ancient and lively woman put the roses in the vase and returned his wand to him. "All of your wands are in working condition. Now I want to put this in my kitchenette so I'll take my leave." She held out the flowered filled vase and beamed at it.
Harry glanced around once as the woman departed and stood as well.
"Ah yes and we'll get some photos really fast and- Mr. Potter where are you going?"
Harry turned around back towards the courtyard. "The cup demands only that we compete, not that we participate in anything else."
"Childish." Delacour scowled at him though her words lost meaning as Krum seemed to agree with Harry and walked past him out into the rest of campus, Karkaroff towed after him and gave Harry a fearful look as he scuttled past.
"As you say." Harry told her and left.
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"We can endure neither our vices nor the remedies for them" - Livy
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Next 'Five of Swords'
-WG