Sorry for the day in posting. It's not everyday I have a snow-day with work, and doing remote work on a nine year old laptop with no extra monitors isn't easy.

Author's Note: Due to the nature of this chapter, much of it has direct quotes from GOF Chapter 18

Friday November 11th, 1994

"Antidotes!" Professor Snape announced at the start of class. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…"

Judging by the way Snape's eyes lingered on his, Harry wondered if the Potions Master was planning on using him as the test subject? Maybe he thought Harry made a safer guinea pig? I mean, can the Master of Death even die? Maybe this is secretly part of Snape's experiment-?

A knock at the door broke Harry out of his deathly musings. He turned to find Annabel Entwhistle entering the space. She gave Harry and Tracey short nods as she made her way to Snape's desk.

"Yes?" Snape asked curtly.

"Hello, Professor. Mister Bagman asked me to bring Harry up for a meeting with the other champions."

Snape stared at her hard before giving a dismissive huff. "Very well. Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Ah, sorry Sir," Annabel interrupted, "he has to take his things with him. All the champions have to do-"

"Very well!" Snape snapped. "Potter, take your bag; but I expect you back here tomorrow at 10am for a remedial class."

A remedial class? On a Saturday?! Harry thought in disbelief. Ugh! It probably is just an excuse to experiment on me!

Resigned, Harry took his bag and followed Annabel out the door. "Don't suppose Bagman mentioned what this is about? I thought we weren't getting any more clues about the First Task."

"No, it doesn't look like that," Annabel answered. "I saw a photographer there. I think they're doing photos for the Daily Prophet."

"Great," he groaned.

The rest of the walk was filled with idle chatter until Annabel showed him the door to the meeting room. With a short bid of, "Good luck," she left him for elsewhere. Resigned, Harry knocked on the door and went inside.

It was an abandoned classroom, with most of the desks and chairs pushed to the sides, save for a few intended for the meeting. The remaining row of desks was lined with a velvet runner, and Ludo Bagman was sitting at one of the chairs along that row, chatting (to Harry's surprise) with Annabella Soros. As for the rest of the room, he found Viktor Krum was standing in one corner in a visibly bad mood; Cedric and Fleur Delacour having a conversation at the other end; and in the middle was a paunchy man holding a large, black (and slightly smoking) camera, who was leering at Fleur from the corner of his eye.

"Ah, here he is!" Bagman said suddenly. "Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come … nothing to worry about, it's just the Wand Weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment-"

"Wand weighing?" Harry asked in slight alarm.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," he explained- in no way reassuring Harry (though he gave slight relief that he has the Elder Wand hidden in his satchel instead of up his sleeve where he puts his holly wand.) "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. After that there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Annabella Soros, she's doing a piece on the Tournament for the Daily Prophet."

"We're acquainted," Mrs. Soros said with a smile that didn't quite match her tone. "Though I must say, you being selected for the tournament is quite the surprise."

"It is, unfortunately," Harry said.

Her smile briefly faltered. "Dom wrote to me about what happened. It's atrocious how many times you and the other children have been put in dangerous situations these last few years." She clicked her tongue and adjusted the beetle-decorated brooch on her lapel. "No matter, we'll all be doing interviews today, and I'll make sure your side of the story is told in the Prophet."

"You'll do that?"

"Of course!" Her tone suggested offense that he would think differently. Which- okay, maybe he's still holding a bit of a grudge, but still-

Another thought caught up with him. "...You'll all? Meaning…?"

"Ah, the other newspapers," she answered. "There are representatives from both Le Cri de la Gargouille and the Mudraya Sova coming today."

Great. More interviews. "I see."

Mrs. Soros excused herself to go talk with the photographer. Harry, meanwhile, walked over to Viktor's miserable corner. "You and me, both," Harry said with gloom as he hopped to sit on a nearby desk.

Viktor was left confused. "Both of vot?"

"Both not looking forward to interviews and people taking pictures of us," he answered simply. "I mean, for me, I don't want to be in this tournament at all; but I figure you just want to focus on the challenge of it all. Not have people gawk at you over a school contest, right?"

There was a small and sudden light in Viktor's eyes to prove that Harry was on the mark. Especially so as Viktor gave a small nod. "Yes. It is alvays like this. Vy play game ven you can answer boring questions?"

A snort fell out of Harry before he could hide it. He quickly stifled it behind a grin, "Can't say I've had that, but it has happened while I'm just out shopping or minding my own business." His smile went bland. "Though I suppose this is better than my potions class. My professor was planning to test poison antidotes on me today."

Viktor looked reasonably alarmed by this. "Is dis normal?"

"It is with Professor Snape," Cedric said suddenly. Harry hadn't even noticed his and Fleur's approach. "Lucky for me, I'm just missing Muggle Studies right now." He gave a slight wince "…I suppose Transfiguration, too, depending on how long this goes-"

"We were speaking earlier," Fleur interrupted, yet gesturing to Cedric, "of doing a seekers' challenge tomorrow for ze four of us. Would you like to play?"

"A seeker's challenge?" Harry had no idea what that is, but- "Sounds fun. What do you think?"

He asked that question to Viktor. The young professional had an intrigued and devious gleam to his eye. "I know of seeker challenges to train. …Yes, I vood like to join your challenge."

"Great!" Cedric said happily. "The Flying Club meets up at two o'clock. We can do it then."

The other three nodded in agreement, each flashing smiles of competitive energy.

The door opened once again. This time Dumbledore was the one to step through the threshold, followed by another familiar face, Mister Ollivander. A Wand Expert, indeed! After that pair came Headmasters Maxime and Karkaroff, Mister Wilkins, and two witches Harry didn't recognize. That said, the bright quills poking out of their robe pockets suggested that these are the other reporters Mrs. Soros mentioned.

"Ah, splendid," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "you're all here. If the four of you could please take a seat here, the Wand Weighing ceremony is about to begin."

The four champions took their seats along the wall while the seven judges took their seats at the velvet-covered table. Dumbledore spoke as he took his own, "May I introduce Mister Ollivander? He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament."

Mister Ollivander gave a slight bow of the head from where he stood in the centre of the room. "Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you forward first, please?"

Fleur moved gracefully towards the wandmaker, and presented her wand.

"Hmmm…" Ollivander twirled the wand like a baton, causing it to emit pink and gold sparks. He then held it close to his eyes for careful examination. Speaking quietly, he muttered, "Yes. Nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"

"A 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," Fleur confirmed. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

The answer surprised him. He already knew from Ornella that Fleur is part-Veela, but to use a part of her own family for a wand… that's a thing? And it works?

Mister Ollivander, at least, was able to recover from the shock. "Yes. Yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands …however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Well that's rude, Harry thought. Ollivander isn't insulting just some ingredient, he's insulting Fleur's heritage and her very family in the process!

The wandmaker produced a bouquet of flowers from the tip of Fleur's wand. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order." He scooped up the flowers and handed them, and the wand, back to Fleur. "Mister Diggory, you next."

Harry watched as the two switched places, catching Fleur smiling at Cedric on her way back. Maybe he misread the situation, and Fleur wasn't insulted at all?

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Ollivander asked enthusiastically.

Nevermind, Harry thought, Fleur just didn't catch the insult.

"Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn … must have been seven-teen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail." That also surprised Harry. Wasn't the phoenix feather from his own wand given? Dragon heartstring, fair enough, but Harry was surprised that the man would take unicorn hair by force. "Twelve and a quarter inches … ash … pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition … you treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," Cedric answered with a grin.

Harry glanced down at his holly wand, at the way it was marred with fingerprints. He felt a shaming urge to clean it, but fought it off. It's better this way, he tried to insist to himself, no one would suspect a boy who leaves his wand like this would have two wands.

Ollivander tested the wand by producing silver smoke rings, and happily pronounced it in good working order.

Next was Viktor's turn, and his mood had evidently shifted back to the discomfort of being spectated at. He thrust his wand to Ollivander, scowling at the man the entire time. Perhaps he, like Harry, caught on to the man's rude words?

"Hmm, this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I … however…" He lifted the wand and examined it with a laser focus. "Yes … hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" At this question, Viktor gave a nod. "Rather thicker than one usually sees .. quite rigid … ten and a quarter inches … Avis!"

The spell shot out like gunfire, and suddenly a flock of birds flew out from the end of the wand, and out of an open window.

"Good," said Ollivander and he handed back Viktor's wand. "Which leaves … Mister Potter, with another of my creations, of course."

That he said those words so suddenly, before Harry could even leave his seat, made his mind pause briefly (though his body continued to move forward.) He reached the centre and gave Ollivander his holly wand.

"Aaaah, yes," his eyes gleamed. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Harry's own mind flicked back to that day. 'A particular phoenix wand'. A 'curious' one, one who shared a phoenix with Voldemort's own wand. Harry braced himself just in case such knowledge would be brought to light. He watched as Ollivander examined it carefully, far longer than he had any of the others (quite like his own wand-matching had been). Finally, Ollivander made the wand spurt out a fountain of wine, before handing it back to Harry and deeming it to be in perfect condition.

"Thank you, Mister Ollivander," said Dumbledore. "That concludes the end of the Wand Weighing ceremony. Now, as I understand it, our lovely reporters here have a few short questions for you all, and there will be a few photos taken." The way he said 'short' was slightly pointed. It seems the Headmaster was as annoyed with the Press being here as he and Viktor were.

"Yes, let's get started!" Bagman said with excitement. The reporters and photographer had moved off to the side during the ceremony, but each had a glint of excitement as their presence was summoned.

"One question from each reporter at a time would be best," Mister Wilkins suggested, smiling amicably at the three witches. "Madame Milin, if you would like to start?"

The auburn-haired witch in question gave the wizard a respectable nod. "Yes, 'ello, everyone. Now, each of you were chosen out of many to compete in ze Tournament. Why do you zink you were chosen, over ozzurs? What skills do you 'ave zat will make you a strong competitor?"

The other reporters nodded eagerly at the question, quills at the ready. The four students looked at each other quickly, gauging who should answer first. Fleur, it seemed, chose to take the lead.

"I am a strong student, clever, and excellent at fighting when needed. And, because of my family's skills, I 'ave strength which my classmates do not possess."

"I vork hard," Viktor answered simply. "I am focused to reach my goals."

"Hmm," Cedric gave a small smile. "I'm very good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. We had a school-wide competition last year, and my team was one of the best. Though also," he waved over at the other competitors, giving Harry a slightly apologetic look, for some reason, "all four of us play Seeker in quidditch. I don't think that that's a coincidence. I think it shows that our reflexes, determination, and quick-thinking put us above the rest, for this competition, at least."

That's what I told him! Harry almost shouted that out. Only one thing held back his tongue, and that was the answer he was already planning to give. "I don't know why I was chosen, to be honest. Someone put my name in the Goblet of Fire without my consent, and that person used powerful magic to trick the Goblet into forcing me into the tournament as a fourth champion."

Mrs. Soros' eyes blazed at that, and her smile was sharp. "Yes, thank you for confirming your side of this situation, Mister Potter. Taking that into consideration, how do each of you feel about the safety measures claimed to have been put into this tournament, compared to its rather violent and deadly history?"

Cedric opened his mouth, then closed it. He and Harry both didn't have great opinions of the safety measures, clearly.

"It is hard to say," Viktor answered with a casual shrug. "Ve have been told nothing of de first task, only dat it is to show our courage."

"Nothing?!"

It was a semi-rhetorical question. Certainly not one considered out of turn, judging by no one's move to interfere with the extra question.

"We're trying to prepare as best as we can," Harry said. "That said, the Tournament is meant to be challenging for a NEWT student, so for someone underage, it will be very dangerous. Personally, my confidence in the tournament's safety has been low since I was entered against my will, despite my Headmaster's assurances."

Fleur and Cedric eventually gave their own answers. Cedric's answer came out stilted, however, and the other champion gave him odd looks when he was finished with his turn.

Miss Annenkov of the Mudraya Sova then asked them how they are preparing for the tasks, and each champion gave somewhat cagey answers that could be summarized with lots of studying and practicing with friends. Then it was Madame Milin's turn again.

"I 'ave a question for ze judges," she looked pointedly at the judges' table. "'istorically, zis Tournament is judged by ze 'eadmasters alone; and, Monsieur Thoreau, you are a well known as a professional duelist. Why did zis change 'appen, and 'ow did you and Mademoiselle Murphy come to join them?"

"Ah," Mister Wilkins said loudly, "that's a funny story, actually. We were planning on only having the five of us as the judges," he gestured to the Headmasters and Mister Bagman, "but then Miss Murphy and Mister Thoreau each wrote me, telling me about their time being judges for another contest at Hogwarts, and I thought- that would be brilliant!"

"Absolutely," Ludo nodded eagerly.

"He means the defence challenge at Hogwarts last year," Cordelia Murphy explained. "I actually was surprised to find out there was going to be a Triwizard Tournament, but I was happy to join the judging panel when Chrys asked me."

Louis Thoreau added to the answer. "My friend, their former defence professor, Luisa Torrero-Ramirez, insisted that I see what potential these children have, and if they have what it takes to join the duelling circuit. I was impressed with what I saw, and two of the graduates are now apprenticing as duelists under my recommendation. Naturally, when I heard about a Triwizard Tournament, I wrote to Mister Wilkins to oversee the Tournament and be a guest lecturer for some of Hogwarts' defence classes so that I may find more potential apprentices."

Looks of surprise or intrigued murmurs followed that answer.

"International cooperation is a highlight of the Triwizard Tournament," Annabella Soros said with a nod. She directed her focus back on the champions. "Since coming to Hogwarts, have any of you made efforts to get to know each other and your international classmates?"

"Definitely!" Harry said with a grin. "I hang out with a friend from Beauxbatons, and I've made friends with the Beauxbatons quidditch team."

"And the four of us are going flying this weekend," Cedric added.

The foreign Headmasters did not look happy to hear that bit of news.

"Hogvarts has been very velcoming," Viktor said with surprising politeness. "I study Alchemy and Arithmancy vit odders from bot schools, ven I can."

Which was a polite way of saying 'when fangirls aren't following me into the library' - based on what Hermione has told him. (She also said that it's led to her using the Room of Requirement to study more often than not, these days.)

"I do speak with some others," Fleur said vaguely, "but I mostly keep to myself."

Annaekov asked the final question of the day, "If you vin de Trivizard Tournament, vot vill you do vith de one thousand galleon prize?"

…Harry never actually considered that. He listened with half an ear as each champion gave their answers: "Help my family," said Viktor; "Save for the future and buy a new broom," said Cedric, "Invest and travel," said Fleur. For Harry, though, he never planned on joining, so he never considered the question before-

"Mister Potter?" Miss Annenkov prompted.

"What? Oh! Sorry-" Everyone was looking at him. Fidgeting, he decided to stall with the truth, "I haven't considered it before, since I never planned on joining the tournament; but since you're asking… Hmm… I suppose I'd save it for now and use the money later to rebuild my family properties that were destroyed in the war."

Soros and Dumbledore's heads snapped up at that answer. Dumbledore's expression was mixed and hard to read, yet Soros looked like he just handed her his galleons on a gold platter.

"That concludes the end of the interview," Dumbledore said, calmly authoritative.

"Yes," Bagman agreed, "and now photos!"

The photoshoot took ages. The photographer seemed set on having Fleur stand in the middle, while simultaneously struggling to fit Madame Maxime into the frame as all. In the end they settled on having the Headmistress seated in the middle, with the others standing around her. Then individual shots were taken, with some direction from all three reporters for their nation's representatives. By the time they finally finished, dinner was already well underway.

Harry was eager to head straight over for food, when he was intercepted by the Headmaster. "Ah, Harry, if you could spare a moment?"

Harry slowed in his step, giving the headmaster a nod. "Has there been any progress in finding out who put my name in the Goblet?"

He shook his head sadly. "Alas, I'm afraid I have no answers for that. There is, however, one thing I need to discuss with you- Ah, Garrick, would you like me to escort you to the floo?"

Harry followed Dumbledore's gaze in confusion. More so as it landed on Mister Ollivander. "I would be delighted," the wandmaker said happily.

"Come now," Dumbledore guided both wizards up the hallway, away from where everyone else was going. They turned the corner before Dumbledore spoke again. "It's rather fortuitous that you could make it, Garrick."

"Indeed," Mister Ollivander nodded. "Especially as you've been having your own wand troubles of late."

Wand troubles? Harry thought.

"Yes. After 50 odd years of lack of use, it appears my old wand is no longer a good match for myself."

"After so many years of being ignored, I'm not surprised that your wand is irritated with you," said Mister Ollivander. They made their way past the gargoyle, up the stairs, and into Dumbledore's office. Upon the door closing, Ollivander turned to Harry with an eager gleam. "Now, shall we begin the unofficial wand weighing?"

Harry's hackles rose at once. "What are you talking about?"

"Your second wand, Mister Potter," he said. "You do have it on you, I hope?"

"It's alright, Harry," Dumbledore raised a placating hand against Harry's defensive stance. "He only wishes to examine it, as part of the research project we are working on."

It took a moment for those words to register in his mind, and frustration rose. Did everyone but him get told about this?! "You've had it for 50 years. All that time you've never asked Mister Ollivander to look into it?"

Dumbledore had the good sense to look abashed by the question. "I confess, only few people ever knew the significance of the wand I won from Grindelwald. I feared what would happen should others come to seek its power."

"While I'm easy pickings," Harry said with a pointedly irritated tone.

"I assure you, Mister Potter, we only wish to examine the wand for research purposes. No others beyond our circle will ever know about the wand without your consent."

Harry did not believe him in the slightest. He already has, what, seven people who know without his consent? He doesn't like those odds one bit. Unfortunately, he did agree to help with the project. And, who knows, he might learn something useful about the Elder Wand.

"I'll hold you to it," he answered reluctantly. He reached into his bag and retrieved the wand from its casing. He handed it to Ollivander, stating clearly, "Just inspecting it," as he did so.

"Of course," Ollivander said eagerly, taking the wand in one hand and giving it a twirl. It emitted black sparks, and he gave a shudder. "Fascinating! It truly fights against any who isn't its Master! …Fifteen inches, a surprisingly large size for any wand, but I suppose… Elder wood, naturally… Thestral hair! An apt core, though thestral hair is quite a tricky core. Few wizards can work with it… Hmm… curious… its flexibility is hard to determine… as though it is both flexible and unyielding."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"Its…" he continued to examine the wand, "Its flexibility matches what Albus has told me, and its own history on changing allegiances to any wizard that has defeated a former master, …and yet… there is something here, I can sense it. As though some part of it holds fast to its original owner. Most curious…"

Both Harry and Dumbledore looked alarmed by this analysis. "When you say 'its original owner' do you mean the oldest Peverell Brother, or…"

"I cannot determine a wand's chain of ownership, Mister Potter. What I can tell you is that whoever first owned this wand could theoretically reclaim it, were he still alive."

Which every instinct inside of Harry believed that answer led to Death itself. An image of Death holding the wand appeared in his mind, reunited, like an old friend. The thought didn't help him in the slightest. Not after already having proof of Death having access to the world of the living.

"Oh my!" The voice broke Harry out of his musings. It seems the wand reacted harshly against Ollivander's attempts at testing a spell. "Truly, a difficult wand to master." He handed it back quickly to Harry. "You have quite a journey ahead of you with this wand, Mister Potter."

Harry nodded solemnly, feeling only slightly reassured in having the wand back in his hands. A journey, for sure; but no matter the trepidation in his heart, he knew that, as Master of Death, he was better prepared to face that journey than any of the Elder Wand's predecessors.