"There is a great epic in motion. Events that began long ago will begin to find correction . . . and come to a close."

Aria glanced over to Bane who stared intently into the fire in front of them. Blue smoke arose from the flames, the color created by the herbal concoction the centaur had tossed in just before he had begun staring at it. Centaurs, Aria had learned, not only read the stars and celestial bodies to divine the future and current times, but also read bones and runes and stared into the flames, asking their gods to show them things. She still was not sure who or what the centaurs meant by their gods, but a part of her felt that the answer would either be too deep for her to understand, or too frightening.

"That . . . sounds like a good thing," she said. Bane turned his gaze to her. Once again, she was unsure of his expression. Was he looking at her like an old person looked at little children when they had done something particularly dumb but cute? Or was he actually looking at her, trying to divine how to respond.

"There have been events up at the castle," Bane answered instead. "Events beyond your control."

"Lots of things are beyond my control. Homework, tests, the school rules . . ."

"Yet you have sway over them," Bane answer. "You can determine the outcome of your homework and your tests. You can choose to obey the rules of the castle. But the great and dark magic that controls ancient objects? Beyond you."

Aria thought about the Goblet of Fire.

Bane went back to looking into the flames. Aria too stared into the dancing light, trying to see what Bane and the other centaurs could see. They had spoken to her already about letting the smell and feel of what they had tossed into the fire wash over her and combine with her magic. So far, she had not figured out how to do that, and therefore, did not see anything but flames or smoke. Firenze said it took practice. Bane just seemed to take it to mean that she was a human and therefore unable to do much in the first place, even if the stars and the gods said differently.

"I see many paths lying before you," Bane continued. "A great many things outside of your control. But the path you choose can only be decided by yourself. Only you can decide if you desire glory or destruction."

"I don't feel like people go out of their way to choose destruction," Aria said. Bane turned again to stare at her.

"There was once a boy at the castle," he said, "the stars wrote of him too. He could have been great, but he chose the path of destruction. I once saw what could have been. So many . . . could have been happy. Now, the only thing that lingers is pain."

He waved a hand over the flames and the blue smoke disappeared.

"It is it time for you to return to the castle," the centaur said. "We will not see you again until the snows melt. We will come for you."

Aria nodded, recognizing the dismissal. One of the female centaurs walked her back to the edge of the forest and she made her way back up the hill towards the warmth of the castle, the light through the windows bathing Hogwarts in an ethereal shadow. The familiar warmth of contentment and happiness filled her as she gazed up at the looming castle.

"You can feel the magic can't you?" the centaur asked. Aria glanced at her companion.

"The Four Founders built the castle here because of the power this land holds," the centaur continued. "All magical beings feel it, but some feel it to a greater degree."

"It's like home," Aria said. "Like I've known if forever."

"Good. That is what it is meant to feel like." The centaur nodded her head before disappearing back into the forest. Aria climbed her way up the pathway to the top of the hill and around to the front doors of the castle.

Inside, the chill of the Scottish Highlands faded away, and Aria wandered into the Great Hall where a few groups of students were gathered at the tables, finishing up studying. She spotted some of her friends and trotted over, pausing in her greeting as she was distracted by a large amount of giggling and laughing from another group at another table. Mostly Hufflepuffs, though there were a few Ravenclaws.

"They've been giggling for hours," Susan muttered, glancing up from her essay. Ernie glared over at the group. "Nothing good can come from a group led by Smith."

Aria scowled at the mention of Zacharias Smith, remembering how he had hurt Ron back when the boy was only a first year. The third year, she noted, was surrounded by an equally questionable group of students. Fay Dunbar and Sophie Roper were there, which immediately told Aria everything she needed to know about the company Smith kept, as well as other Hufflepuff fourth-years like Sally-Anne Perks, Sally Smith, and Megan Jones. As equally unlikeable as Fay and Sophie; and Terry Boot was sitting right next to Smith with Mandy Brocklehurst and Sue Li next to him. All Ravenclaws that had, in the past, enjoyed taking pot shots at the Slytherins. Terry Boot had a mean Stinging Hex and Mandy was no slouch as the Jelly-Legs Jinx.

"What're they doing?" Aria asked.

"Don't know," Justin muttered. "And I don't care."

"Bourne!" Smith rose to his feet, an ugly smile twisting over his young features as he stood triumphantly. "Do you like the new badges? I think loads of people'll buy them. Think your boyfriend will like them?"

Horrified, Aria began racking her brain for ideas on how Zacharia Smith of all people had figured out that she and Draco were secretly seeing each other (though neither of them had ever brought up the topic of calling each other boyfriend or girlfriend), when the Hufflepuff tossed her a round pin-badge. She nearly fainted with relief, taking a few moments to switch gears between believing she and Draco's secret was revealed, to understanding that these badges were made to make fun of Harry!

The badge was an ugly green with pink words that read POTTER STINKS! After a few seconds the letters and colors changed to a yellow background with black words that read SUPPORT DIGGORY! THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION! Then it circled back to POTTER STINKS.

"That's awful!" Susan cried, peering over Aria's shoulder. "Harry doesn't want to be a champion!"

"So he says," Mandy argued.

"No wonder you're ranked nearly dead last in the class," Ernie snapped. "If you really believe that."

"Diggory's not gonna like this," Justin pointed out.

"Who cares what he thinks?" Smith snapped.

"You should," Hannah pointed out. "Seeing as you're supposedly making these in support of him."

"And he's already put the House on alert to leave Harry alone," Susan added, throwing the pin down. It bounced off the table, bending nearly in half from the force of the throw.

"Look at what you did!" Sue cried, snatching up the pin. "Now we've got to fix it."

"Cedric'll fix you once he finds out what you're doing," Ernie stated. "And if he doesn't, Haywood will."

Several of the Hufflepuffs began to look uneasy at the name of the seventh year. Aria half hoped Beatrice would walk into the Great Hall that very moment.

Deciding that she had had enough of the Hufflepuffs and knowing that Susan would take care of the problem for now, Aria stalked out of the Great Hall down towards the Slytherin common room where she was certain she would find Harry. Rage simmered just below her skin. She could feel her magic buzz, making her skin itch. Who did Zacharias Smith think he was, going about making such badges?

She already knew the answer to that question. The third-year upstart was just as much a blood purist as Crabbe and Goyle, though not as stupid, and far more malicious than even Astoria. Being a Hufflepuff meant there was a bit of a leash on him compared to the problems he might have been able to create and get away with if he had been Sorted into Slytherin, but Aria did not need to read tarot cards or tea leaves to know that Zacharias Smith was on a path that could make him as pompous and troublesome and dangerous as Abraxas Malfoy. Just without half as much money.

She found Harry editing Theo's Transfiguration essay while Theo edited his. Other fourth years were nearby studying, though Pansy was putting on a dark purple nail polish that was actually very pretty.

"We expected you back a half hour ago," Blaise said, glancing up from his Charms work. "We thought maybe the Durmstrang students had gotten you."

"No, I stopped off in the Great Hall," Aria said. "Did you know Smith from Hufflepuff is making these badges that read: 'Potter Stinks' and 'Support Diggory! The Real Hogwarts Champion!'?"

"Is he now?" Daphne mused.

"If it had been anyone else, I might just get one of those and wear it for everyone to see," Harry said with a sarcastic grin. "But I don't support idiots like Smith."

"He also thinks you're my boyfriend?"

"He thinks what now?" Draco cried, distracted from the chess game between him and Tracey.

"Jealous, Malfoy?" Aria asked.

"As if," Draco sneered. "Don't make me laugh, Bourne."

"You just know that I'm way out of your league," Aria said, sticking her nose in the air. "I'm an unattainable goddess."

Draco gagged.

"As it is," Aria continued, ignoring Draco, "I think we should give the other champions a run for their money. I mean, if you have to compete, Harry, might as well give it your best."

"Oh. I was planning on just surviving and letting the others take the glory."

"Where is your ambition?" Aria cried.

"I don't want the world to really think I want the eternal glory and everything!"

"But do you really want to give Smith the satisfaction of seeing you fail?"

Harry glared at her, and Aria knew that she had won. Harry would absolutely do his best in the Triwizard Tournament, with her help of course, if only to see Zacharias Smith put in his place.

The knock on the door stunned the entire class of fourth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Even Professor Snape paused in surprise to stare at the classroom door. No one dared to disturb a potions class!

Slowly the door creaked open and Colin Creevey half-stepped into the classroom, keeping the door between him and Professor Snape.

"What is it, Creevey?" Snape demanded.

"Harry's wanted," Colin said, voice barely above a whisper as he shook behind the door, clearly afraid of being made into potions ingredients. "The headmaster sent me."

"What does he want Mr. Potter for?" Snape asked. "We're in the middle of class."

"Uh . . . I think he called it . . . the Weighing of the Wands?"

Snape sighed.

"Go, Potter," he ordered. "You'll redo your potion tonight."

Harry groaned at the idea as he scooped up his bookbag and Snape banished his potion, levitating the dirty cauldron over to the sink.

The walk with Colin out of the dungeons was surprisingly pleasant. The boy chatted as he always did, but he didn't try to take any pictures for which Harry was glad about. The third year left Harry outside the door of one of the receiving rooms just off the front entryway.

Entering the room, Harry immediately spotted Fleur with Madam Olympe and Viktor with Karkaroff. Cedric stood by Dumbledore and Harry assumed he would need to go stand by the headmaster as well. He stopped short, though, finally spotting the other gentleman standing on Cedric's other side.

"Sirius!" he cried, flying across the room, and launching himself into his godfather's arms. Sirius caught him, holding him off the ground for several seconds in a tight embrace.

A flash of light startled Harry, along with the sound of a camera shutter. Sirius set Harry down and glared over the boy's shoulder. Turning, Harry's face turned red as he noticed Ollivander standing beside a blonde woman with cat-eyed glasses. Beside her was a dower looking young man holding a camera, and between the two a poisonous green quill hovered over a floating piece of parchment, as if ready to write. Behind Ollivander stood Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and two other journalists and cameramen.

"What a lovely picture," the blonde woman simpered. Harry thought her lipstick was too red for her face. "The readers will just adore it!"

"Rita," Sirius greeted. "It's been a while."

"Oh, I know!" the woman cried. "Last time I saw you, it was when you were dropping off little Harry's birth announcement to the paper."

Sirius put an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"But why are you here?" Rita asked, sidling up to Sirius' side. Sirius turned, keeping himself between Harry and this Rita character. Harry thought that he had heard her name before, but could not place where he would have done so.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"Well, none of the other Champions have their godparents with them."

"I'll remind you, Ms. Skeeter, that I am on of Harry's guardians," Sirius answered. Harry could see the tightness in the man's jaw. "And as he is a minor and being forced to compete in this tournament, it has been decided that I or both of his guardians are allowed to be present for all official tournament events."

The quill was rapidly writing.

"I do hope that's not a Quick Notes Quill," Sirius continued.

"Of . . . of course not!" Skeeter cried. "What do you take me for?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and motioned for Mr. Crouch to step forward. The man did so, looking more pleased with himself than Harry could recall seeing him.

"Welcome to the Weighing of the Wands," Crouch said. "This little ceremony is meant to ensure that all of your wands are in working order, and that you don't try to sneak in a second wand. The wand you put forward today is the only wand you may use for the tournament."

Wizards and witches could have more than one wand? He had never thought about it before. Aria, of course, was on her third wand, but that was because her other wands had been destroyed.

Ollivander approached Viktor who handed over his wand. Skeeter's camera man began taking pictures.

"Quite a wand, Mr. Krum," Ollivander said, studying the wood. "10 inches, hornbeam wood . . ." he held it up to his ear. "Dragon heartstring. This is quite thicker than normal wands. And more rigid. A Gregorovitch wand?"

"Yes," Viktor answered. "One of his last."

"He was an excellent wandmaker. Not as excellent as my family, of course, but such is the lot of those on the continent." Harry thought Viktor did a decent job at not rolling his eyes. Ollivander spun the wand above his head, conjuring a set of birds that flew about the room before disappearing into the wall.

"Good working order!" the man declared, handing the wand back. He moved onto Fleur who handed over her wand with a smile that made Ollivander faulter a bit before he steadied himself.

"Interesting," Ollivander murmured. "You don't see many rosewood wands in England. Or outside of France for that matter." He held it up to his ear. "Is that . . . a Veela hair core?"

"Oui," Fleur replied, straightening her shoulders as the cameras flashed. Even with her French accent, Harry could hear the pride in the girl's voice. "My grandmother donated one of her hairs when I got my acceptance letter from Beauxbatons."

"Ah, an individually created wand. 9 inches, quite inflexible." Ollivander flicked it, conjuring a lovely bouquet of flowers which he promptly handed to Fleur with a bow. She laughed, collecting the flowers and her wand. Ollivander stepped up to Cedric who grinned broadly and handed over his wand with a flourish.

"Ah, one of mine," Ollivander cried, giving Cedric an impish grin and wink. "Only the best for students here. I remember this one well. Twelve and a quarter inch, a little longer than most wands, made of a fine piece of ash . . . presently springy . . . containing a single strand of hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn. It was at least seventeen hands high and nearly gored me to death after I plucked the hair!" Ollivander laughed and Harry had a brief second of wondering if the unicorn hairs Aria had been gifted back in first year would work in a wand.

"I see you've taken very good care of it," Ollivander continued, holding the wand up to the light.

"I polish it once a week," Cedric stated.

"Ah . . . owners of ash wands tend to be as devoted to their wand as the wand is to them," Ollivander commented, creating silver smoke circles with the wand. "Should you happen to perish during the tournament, Mr. Diggory, I do hope you'll be buried with the wand. I know some families tend to keep wands in hopes of future generations being able to use them, but ash wands are very particular and tend to only work for one wizard or witch . . . never two." He handed the wand back to Cedric.

"Well, I don't plan to die, Mr. Ollivander," Cedric said.

"No one ever does," Ollivander mused, approaching Harry. He held out his wand for Harry who handed it over.

"Ah . . . another of mine. Holly, eleven inches . . . nice and supple . . . with a phoenix feather core." Ollivander met Harry's gaze and Harry internally panicked at the thought that Ollivander would reveal to the whole room including the press that his wand was the brother wand to Voldemort. Thankfully, the man did not, only conjuring a goblet and filling it with water, all from the tip of Harry's wand.

"In perfect working order," Ollivander declared, passing the wand back to Harry. Harry grinned up at Sirius, and he was pretty sure someone got a picture of Sirius smiling back at him.

"Now that the wands have been weighed, I was hoping to give the press a bit of a photo shoot," Bagman said, coming forward.

"An excellent idea!" Skeeter cried. "And perhaps an interview? I'd love to get Mr. Potter's thoughts on the tournament."

"No one will be interviewing Harry without me present," Sirius practically growled. "But I think a group interview would do well, don't you, Bagman?"

Mr. Bagman blinked as if he had not thought of the idea. The other two journalists present, however, nodded eagerly. Harry wondered if these two were from other European newspapers.

Skeeter pouted as the photo shoot got underway. It was clear that she was use to things going her way with her dictating what was done, but with Sirius present, there were plenty of photos of just the three original champions before Harry joined in the group picture. Each champion also got their own individual photos taken, and Cedric insisted on he and Harry getting a photo together.

Dumbledore ordered tea and snacks afterwards as everyone settled in seats for the group interview. Again, Skeeter looked put out as Sirius expertly handled the interview, ensuring that every champion was asked questions and that the other journalists were able to ask their questions. Even the headmasters and headmistress were able to participate much to Skeeter's growing ire.

Finally, the woman seemed to reach the end of her rope and she interrupted the French journalist, blurting out,

"How do you think your parents would feel, Harry, knowing that you were intentionally putting yourself in harms way by competing in the tournament?"

"Ms. Skeeter," Sirius growled in warning.

"I didn't put my name in the Goblet," Harry said. "And if you would stick with 'Mr. Potter' that would be great."

"Oh, come now, Harry," Skeeter said with sly wink. "Everyone loves a rebel."

"Mr. Potter," Harry stressed, glad to see a smirk cross Sirius' face. "And again, I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I don't know who did. However, I'm certain Madam Bones would not mind giving an interview so that the public can understand the investigation the aurors have been conducting on trying to figure it out."

Skeeter did not look pleased. The other two journalists were hurriedly writing away, their quills not hovering beside their heads like Skeeter's.

"Harry also did not know his parents," Sirius added, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think it's a bit rude to ask him what they would think. But I can tell you that I think they would be worried for the safety of their son, and ready to protect him should the need arise."

"How do you three feel about Mr. Potter competing?" the Eastern European journalist asked. Harry thought he had said he was from Romania.

"I'm very concerned," Cedric answered. "Potter's a decent sort, doesn't like attention, and has shown to be honest. He's not the kind of person to want to compete in this sort of tournament, even if he were of age."

Cedric absolutely deserved a gift after this, Harry thought.

"I think it is an outrage!" Fleur cried, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "That the British Ministry is not doing more to get Harry out the tournament. Mr. Bagman even appears gleeful at the prospect of seeing Harry compete."

Mr. Bagman went bright red and even Mr. Crouch gave him a side-eye.

"Well, Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived," Skeeter simpered.

"Mr. Potter," Harry and Sirius said together. Cedric nearly choked on his tea.

"I'm certain Harry vill give a good show," Viktor stated. "He can, after all, produce a corporeal Patronus. Even I cannot do that, and I am in my final year at Durmstrang."

Dumbledore terminated the interview after that. Harry gave Sirius another tight hug and Sirius promised to write soon. The four champions were left in the receiving room as all the adults left.

"I can't believe Dumbledore let Skeeter of all people in," Cedric said. "I can't believe the Daily Prophet chose her to come. Of all the people!" he shook his head in dismay.

"She has quite the reputation in France," Fleur said. "I don't know what she might've tried if Lord Black hadn't been here."

Harry frowned. "What might she have tried?"

"Oh, she probably would've snubbed all of us and pulled you into a corner for an interview," Cedric answered. "That's not a Dicta Quill she uses, and it's believed to add . . . embellishments."

"Lies?"

"Yup."

The next morning, Harry could barely breathe as he waited with Aria for Daphne's copy of The Daily Prophet to arrive. Aria badgered him into drinking some tea and eating some toast, but it all tasted like ash to him. What if Skeeter wrote an article that was mostly lies? What if that article made people hate him and Slytherins more? What if that article led to more people trying to hex him and his friends? What if the article somehow made the Ministry take him away from Sirius?

"Okay, you're being a bit dramatic," Aria said. Harry blushed. He had not meant to say that last bit out loud.

"Skeeter may write a terrible article," Daphne soothed, "but you've got the entire House of Black behind you. Doubt Lord Black's lawyers would let Skeeter get away with much. It's why you don't see too much horrible speculation from her about some of the more . . . wealthy purebloods. She might speculate, but no outright lies. Can you imagine what Lord Malfoy would do to her?"

The newspaper arrived and Harry barely kept himself from snatching out of Daphne's hand as she paid the owl and fed it bacon before carefully unrolling the newspaper. Harry and the other Slytherins leaned in to see the headlines.

On the front page was a picture of Harry alone and the headline read: IS OUR NATIONAL HERO LOOKING FOR ATTENTION?

Harry groaned and lowered his head to the table, banging it a few times against the wood.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked. Daphne was quiet for a moment as she skimmed over the article.

"No," she finally said. "It's a load of rubbish."

"Apparently you're twelve," Blaise said.

"Apparently your eyes were awash with tears when speaking about your parents," Theo added.

"Apparently having your life be in such upheaval over the last several months has caused you to act out in rebellious ways," Tracey said, leaning over Daphne. "Skeeter questions whether you're being well looked after by a werewolf and if this is the beginning of a youth about to be riddled with crime and victimhood."

"Jesus Christ," Aria muttered. "Harry, stop banging your head."

"I would like to be a fly on the wall in Mr. Lawrence's office after this," Daphne said. "I mean . . . does she think with all the witnesses that were around yesterday that she can really get away with printing rubbish like this?"

"I can send her a Bat-Bogey Hex through the mail," Ginny offered.

"How do you know how to do that?" Aria asked.

"The twins."

Fleur appeared behind Daphne, holding out an English edition of one of the French papers.

"I've already seen what your British call journalism," the girl said. "I find it lacking." She gave the paper to Tracey and flounced off. Tracey unrolled the paper. This paper had a large picture of all four champions. The students were posed in such a way that it looked like the three older students were guarding Harry.

MEET THE CHAMPIONS OF THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT! Was the headline. A search of the paper saw that the main article was a profile of all four of the champions, with smaller articles discussing the scandal of having a fourth champion chosen, and how the three older students supported Harry's claim that he had not entered the tournament. There was also an interview with the French ICW delegation discussing the ICW response to all this. Apparently, the ICW was leading an investigation into Crouch and Bagman.

"This is a nice picture," Aria said. "Does anyone mind if I take it?" Everyone shook their heads, and with careful wand movements, she cut out the picture from the paper.

"I don't know why you'd want to keep it," Harry said.

"For prosperity," Aria answered. "I've got a whole box of mementos. Creevey may be annoying, but he's got some excellent pictures and he's willing to make copies if you pay him. Although you might not have to pay him, Harry, since he's such a big fan."

Harry banged his head against the table again.

"Mr. Potter."

The Slytherins jerked in surprise, unaware that Dumbledore had even approached the table. Several students glared at each other, as if blaming each other for the headmaster being able to sneak up on them.

"Headmaster," Harry greeted.

"I'd like for you to come with me to my office," Dumbledore said. "I'd like to discuss today's Daily Prophet article with you."

Harry would have liked to tell the headmaster where to shove it, but with so many people watching, he knew he could not say no. With a sigh he pushed back from the table, glad that he had not eaten a whole lot. He had a feeling he would need to vomit after his talk with the headmaster.