The next morning found Harry sitting at the Gryffindor table during breakfast, and as expected, most of his housemates kept their distance from him. Harry assumed they had another reason for being put out with him now, with his connection with Regina being public. For all their talk, the Gryffindors could be as intolerant as those they despised.
He had taken his seat near the entrance to the Great Hall and he absently munched on his meal, his mind pondering on several topics at once.
The first task of the Triwizard Tournament was less than two weeks away, and all he knew about it was that he would be up against a dangerous magical creature. Not knowing what the beast was did seem disappointing but he had confidence in his knowledge and abilities as a wizard to see it through. He had slain a Basilisk without his wand when he was in his second year, after all.
As he thought about the Basilisk, he wondered what his new combat gear would look like. Finn Rosier's men had rendered the creature inside the Chamber of Secrets and the last he had talked to the man, he'd been told that their work had been underway already. It was expected to arrive two days before the task, and he could hardly wait to try it out.
The Basilisk venom was nicely stored in unbreakable vials within the Chamber of Secrets alongside all the fangs while Rosier was allowed to take the bones and the flesh. Harry had no idea what they would do with those resources but he could not be bothered to think too much about it. The meat was usually edible, so perhaps that was what they would do with it, and the bones were bound to be sturdy, and they might perhaps be used to make weapons or enchanted into amulets. There was a possibility to use everything as potion ingredients as well.
Overall, the deal they had worked out was a really solid one. He was not paying for the combat gear or the service of rendering the creature. Additionally, he stood to make a shit ton of gold from the sale. Even though he planned to share it with Hogwarts and the Basilisk's victims, he would be floating in the green when all was said and done.
Harry eyed a few students who walked either way past him and he suppressed a scoff. All it took was one little news and the glances they had been directing at him ever since he had been selected as a Champion in the Triwizard Tournament had drastically transformed. No longer did they stare at him dismissively or in disdain. Instead, there was skepticism and curiosity in their gazes now. It made him wonder what it would be when he took down his challenge in the First Task.
'Apologies, perhaps? I wouldn't hold my breath though,' he thought to himself, shaking his head.
His gaze fell over at the Slytherin table and he spied Malfoy sitting with his usual crowd and a few older students. The troll-like face of Marcus Flint was easy to spot and as Daphne had told him, they all were being chummy with each other. He'd told both her and Regina to be on the lookout for any progress on their little plan and he was looking forward to hearing what they'd discovered.
He was interrupted when he felt a powerful magical presence approaching and he glanced over to see none other than Professor McGonagall walking toward him at a sedate pace. He kept his expression neutral as he gazed at her, ignoring the numerous gazes that were suddenly being directed at them.
"Professor," he greeted respectfully. "Good morning."
"Good morning to you too, Potter," the old Scotswoman replied with a curt nod. "I've come to inform you that your presence is required at the wand weighing ceremony at 11 o' clock today."
The Wand Weighing ceremony was a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament. All the champions were required to have their wands inspected to ensure they were in the proper working order. It was done by the premier wandmaker of the host nation, which, Harry guessed, would be Ollivander.
He nodded at his Head of House. "Where am I supposed to go?"
"The ceremony will be held in the small classroom off the Great Hall," McGonagall replied, earning a nod from Harry. "Do not be late, Potter. And…" She hesitated slightly, adding to his intrigue. Pursing her lips, she continued, "Do prepare yourself for interacting with the press, will you?"
With a parting nod, she strode away, and Harry turned back to his breakfast, absently nibbling on the toast.
A few minutes later, Harry spotted the Slytherin assholes get up and make their way toward the exit. He was struck by a brilliant idea and his wand slid into his grasp in an instant, the incantation on his lips. Silently, he cast a delayed itching hex on the entire group that remained blissfully oblivious to any foul play. Smirking to himself, he put his wand away and went about his breakfast. He did feel a few eyes on him when they passed and he expertly ignored them. They were in for a very interesting few hours now as his itching hex would make them feel as if they were being constantly stung by tiny insects. For now, he had decided to settle on this relatively harmless prank. The big guns would come out later.
Once he was done with his breakfast, Harry cleaned off his mouth and his hands as he stepped out of the bench and briskly walked out of the Great Hall. The wand weighing ceremony would start at 11. He had over a couple of hours in his hand now, and he knew perfectly well how to utilize those hours.
Exiting the Great Hall, he made his way over to the Grand Staircase to get some more practice done, unaware of a pair of inquisitive blue eyes that followed him on his way out.
-Break-
Harry took a deep breath before pushing the door open to the small classroom where Professor McGonagall had asked him to arrive. As he stepped in, he became acutely aware of all the eyes turning toward him.
He had never been in this room, but it was smaller than he'd expected. Given how many people were cramped up inside, it made for a very cozy setting, and not really in the positive context.
Ludo Bagman was the first to spot him and his round face lit up with a boyish grin. "Ah, here he is! 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…"
Harry nodded absently as Bagman kept blabbering.
"… and he'll inspect your wands to make sure they're in perfect working order. You'll need them working perfectly for the tasks ahead, after all. And then we'll have a nice photoshoot for the press followed by a little interview. This is Rita Skeeter, by the way. She'll be in charge of it all. I'm sure you've heard of her, quite a sensation she's been for the Prophet, after all," Bagman enthused, and Harry's eyes flashed at the mention of the name.
"Mr. Potter," Skeeter simpered, looking rather hideous in her magenta robes and those atrocious glasses. She was the perfect testament to people who believed bathing their faces with color and powder would make them look appealing. "I've been looking forward to meeting you for a while now."
Harry already knew the woman was bad news and that it would be in the best interests if they remained far apart. Her best interests, of course. He didn't know if he'd be able to control himself if she crossed him more than she already had.
'A warning would be enough courtesy I'd give her. Any more from her and she'll only have herself to blame,' he thought.
Harry merely nodded at the woman as he made to move, only to suddenly jerk his arm off when he felt her reach out to touch him.
"I don't appreciate people trying to touch me without my consent, Miss Skeeter," Harry said curtly. The woman though promptly ignored what he said.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with our youngest champion before we start? To… you know… add a bit of color?" Skeeter asked, her feral gaze fixated on him.
"Oh, most certainly!" Bagman enthused. He suddenly blanched when Harry fixed a dangerous glare at him. It made him want to flee Hogwarts altogether. "Uhm… err… that is… uhh… if Harry doesn't have any problem, yeah?" He finished with a squeak in his voice.
"We can get to that stuff after we're done with the important things here," Harry said curtly. "And Bagman," he said menacingly, making the man gulp. "Don't you ever speak on my behalf again."
"H-Harry… I… uh…"
Ignoring the stuttering man and moving before the woman could try to put her grubby hands on him again, Harry moved with a confident stride as he cast his gaze around the room. Krum stood in the corner, looking as surly as ever, although Harry could see him gazing at him with a calculating look on his face. He scoffed to himself. Diggory was leaning against the wall nearby, greeting him with a friendly nod which Harry saw no reason in not returning. It was the final figure that gave him pause.
He'd expected Delacour to be dismissive, haughty, and outright disdainful at the sight of him. He was surprised to see the curious and uncertain demeanor that she was exhibiting. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she stood with the rest of the champions and her eyes lacked the usual negativity he'd come to associate with her. This was not the first time he had noticed the subtle shift in her temperament when it concerned him, and Harry wondered if the news of him using Basilisk scales for his combat gear was truly so profound that she'd changed so drastically.
He chose to nod curtly at the French girl who looked taken aback for a moment at being acknowledged, but she seemed to catch herself and return his nod as curtly.
'Fairs,' Harry thought as he noticed Dumbledore standing by the table that must be reserved for the judges. He was accompanied by a wizened old man whom Harry recognized as Mr. Ollivander. The headmaster's eyes twinkled as they met his, and he offered him a polite smile.
With them stood Madame Maxime whose imposing figure took up a significant portion of the small room. She was sitting in a chair that must have been magically enlarged to accommodate her.
Harry did not miss the calculating look in her eyes as she gazed at him and he had no doubt that she must have been gathering intel on all the champions to see what challenge her school could expect.
The same could be said about Karkaroff who, although not calculating, did seem rather agitated by something. He was pacing near the window, casting suspicious glances around the room until his eyes fell on Harry. His lips curled into an ugly sneer, his eyes narrowing in rage at the sight of him. Harry merely gave him a challenging look, tilting his head upward and giving the man a stony stare. Karkaroff proved what a fucking pansy he was as he gulped nervously and swiftly shifted his gaze, his throat bobbing. Harry resisted the urge to smirk. He'd known what a weak-minded fool Karkaroff truly was and this little demonstration proved him correct.
He noticed Dumbledore's stare at him and he knew the old man had missed nothing. He gave him a small shrug as he crossed the room and joined the other three champions.
"Sup?" He asked casually.
"Were you always this tall, Potter?" Diggory asked curiously, staring at him.
Indeed, he had grown up nicely since he'd done the ritual, now standing an inch taller than the Hufflepuff. Although Diggory didn't have any need to tilt his head to look at him, the difference must still be noticeable.
"Must've had a growth spurt," Harry replied candidly as he leaned against the adjacent wall.
"Quite a growth spurt you've had then," Diggory chuckled. "In more than one way, if you catch my drift."
Harry was slightly taken aback. The last thing he'd expected was for Cedric Diggory, the boy he'd barely talked to in his first three years at Hogwarts, trying to banter with him. However, he decided to humor the boy.
"What can I say… The tournament's been a bit stressful. We need all the relief we can get," he chuckled. Diggory merely rolled his eyes as he joined in.
Harry smirked as he watched Fleur's gaze flick to him for the barest of moments and he had a sudden idea strike him. In his research, he had paid some attention to veela as well because he wanted to know about the heritage of one of his fellow competitors, and what he had discovered had intrigued him.
In addition to what was commonly known about Veela, he discovered that they had an ability that enabled them to get a sense of powerful magic, especially when it came to the opposite sex. It was a way for them to seek out powerful mates, both in terms of magic and willpower. This ability materialized in the form of their allure that had a profound impact on weak-minded wizards, often turning them into simpletons. It was akin to a filter, one might say, which they used to distinguish wizards.
Ever since he'd read about it, Harry had wanted to gain an innate feel of the magic of this allure. Not what a veela projected outward, but what it truly comprised of, and that entailed making contact with a veela's magic.
Harry knew Fleur might be able to feel it. For all her haughtiness, she did seem like a powerful witch. However, he truly did not care. He could see that there were still a few minutes left, which would be enough for him to get his job done. His lips curled slightly, he leaned comfortably against the wall and closed his eyes.
-Break-
Fleur Delacour had her mind set on only one thing since the Triwizard Tournament had been announced – to win it. She had been working on herself for years to be the best witch she could be, and once the tournament had been announced, she knew she had found the perfect opportunity to prove her worth to everyone who had ever doubted her.
She had been a bit reluctant to be forced to visit a backwater country like Wizarding Britain but her desire had won out in the end. She could endure the company of those English pigs as long as she got what she wanted, and proving that she was better than the best they had to offer was also worth the pain.
When she arrived at Hogwarts and had been chosen the Champion of Beauxbatons, she had been ecstatic. She had even started to work on the tournament the very next minute as the Hogwarts champion walked into the antechamber.
A veela could gauge the power wizards held, and she had used her abilities to discern the level of competition she faced.
Krum was a name well-known over the wizarding world. He was the youngest seeker on any national team and had quickly built up a reputation of being the hottest prospect in the sport. She had naturally heard of him. She also discovered that he was a powerful wizard in his own right and one who could pose a challenge, particularly considering the school he came from.
Durmstrang had a more relaxed view of magic and spells generally considered dark were regarded as normal, so she knew she needed to be wary of him.
On the contrary, Cedric Diggory was overall an unassuming wizard and when she had taken a measure of his powers, she had been confused. Surely a legendary wizarding institution such as Hogwarts had someone better to offer?
Apparently not.
Cedric Diggory was a normal wizard and Fleur failed to discern anything special about him. He was magically average and his personality was normal as well. He was a wizard who would barely stand out in a crowd, and Fleur easily dismissed him. Her competition was manageable.
Everything was done in a matter of minutes and that was when things went downhill. Harry Potter had been selected and he had drilled through the Durmstrang headmaster and the Potions professor of Hogwarts, and she had been left inflamed when he directed his ire toward her as well. Her opinion of him kept worsening and Fleur had never gotten the opportunity to gauge him out, not that she believed she needed to. He was nothing more than a braggart who hired liars to do his bidding, like that blonde girl she'd met in the Owlery.
At least that was what she'd believed until she learned about the Basilisk scales. If there was indeed any truth to that rumor, then she was forced to re-evaluate her opinion of the youngest champion, although calling him a champion felt like a slap to her face. This tournament was sacred in her eyes, and he had besmirched its prestige.
She had not had the opportunity to gauge him, at least until now. She had not failed to notice how he'd grown a few inches in height since Halloween night, and he had filled out considerably as well – a face she could not help but notice with a small flush to her cheeks. He was immune to her allure, or at least he seemed as such considering she had never seen his eyes glazed in any manner when she was nearby – something she could not say about the two other champions. Even Krum, for all his strengths, had to struggle a bit.
Fleur did not like Harry Potter in the slightest for his mockery even though her magic reacted positively to him, and she wanted to defeat him in this tournament the most. As a result, it was the obvious next step on her part to get a sense of how strong he was.
As she extended her senses as she always did, Fleur's breath hitched and she had to force herself not to react outwardly that would attract any attention. Her teeth clenched, as did her fists on her skirt as she was assaulted with massive pressure against her senses.
How could he be this powerful!? He easily surpassed the strengths of her professors and even her parents, not to mention Madame Maxime! The pressure felt almost what she expected she would feel if she ever tried to gauge Albus Dumbledore. It was unbelievable!
Once again, Fleur was reminded of the rumors that were floating about regarding him – those she had heard and the ones Madame Maxime had told her about. She had dismissed them at face value, but she had been forced to reconsider her stance when the news of Basilisk Scales had come out. However, now… after truly knowing the intensity of his powers, she could not doubt them anymore. He might as well have done what was being said about him!
Suddenly, Fleur Delacour did not feel as confident in herself and her chances in this tournament. A monster, for that was who he felt like, had decided to take what she believed was never his to take, and it infuriated her. She did not like being helpless, and she had felt insulted by him.
Her confidence might not be as strong anymore, but this gave her conviction a massive boost. She might not be as strong as him after this discovery, but she would give all she could to defeat him. He was a challenge, a truly massive one, and one she relished to conquer.
Fleur worked hard on keeping her emotions and her outward expressions in check as she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, making sure she remained as calm as possible. However, her breath hitched suddenly when she felt an odd tug on her magic. It felt invasive, and she did not like it.
Her eyes opened and she glanced around the small room. Nothing looked out of place. Her fellow champions also looked at ease as they all were leaning against the walls with their eyes closed.
Confused, Fleur tried to get a feel of this magic when she felt the tug once again – much more recognizable this time. Her eyes immediately fixated on Harry Potter who slowly opened his eyes and firmly gazed at her. She gave him a sharp glare, telling him she was aware of what he was doing, and all he did was raise a challenging eyebrow as if saying 'What can you even do about it?'
"Ah, there you are, Barty!"
The loud voice of Ludo Bagman made her jerk and she broke off, shifting her gaze to the entrance.
"My apologies for the delay," the man said politely.
"No worries, it's not even 11 yet," Bagman waved him off. Turning toward Dumbledore, he grinned. "Well, looks like everyone's here already. Should we get started?"
Ollivander nodded, and Dumbledore stepped to the side, allowing the old wandmaker to gaze at the four champions. Fleur did not miss how his eyes lingered on Harry for a tad longer than most and it further added to the intrigue she held for the wizard.
"Ladies first, I believe," he said softly, and Fleur quickly composed herself, smothering her anger at Harry Potter, and walked forward, gently allowing her trusted wand to rest in the old wandmaker's outstretched palms.
One by one, Ollivander checked the wands of the champions, always whispering to them whenever he talked about their wands before he pronounced out loud that the wands were in working order. Finally, it was Harry's turn and he confidently walked forward, smiling slightly at the man who seemed to be anticipating this inspection the most.
"Ah yes, how well I remember this," he whispered so that only Harry and perhaps Dumbledore could hear. He lifted the wand to his ear for a moment, as if listening to its enchanted whispers that only those who were deeply versed in Wandlore could discern. His face took on a contemplative look as he slowly handed the wand back over to Harry.
"Do exercise caution when you opt for certain… obscure branches of magic. Your wand is your companion, and thus, deserves equal consideration," Ollivander whispered, ensuring only he could hear. Harry glanced meaningfully at his wand and nodded firmly, stepping back as the old man pronounced his wand to be in perfect working condition as well.
Once the ceremony had concluded and Ollivander stood up to leave, Dumbledore turned to the four champions and smiled politely.
"Thank you all. We are done here, so you may go back to your studies now."
The photographer who was accompanying Skeeter stood up and cleared his throat meaningfully, pushing Bagman into action instantly.
"But we're not done here, Dumbledore! Photos! And Miss Skeeter needs some lines from our champions to publish in the Prophet as well. It's all part of the package, after all."
"Rightly put, Ludo," Skeeter chimed in, smirking, and Harry had to resist the urge to curse her. He did not like that look on her face, and his magic was constantly reminding him that the woman was in no way an ally. "The judges and the champions. We should get multiple shots and then we can select the best ones to publish."
The session that followed was headache-inducing for any normal person. It took over ten minutes for the photographer to accommodate Madame Maxime who otherwise would not fit in the shots and he had to finally concede defeat by having her sit down on a stool.
Krum seemed to want no part as he kept trying to skulk to the back and hide but Karkaroff was in no mood to let it happen and he kept pushing him forward, much to his irritation.
Meanwhile, Fleur was the one who was getting the most irritated as she kept dodging the creepy photographer who was looking for the smallest of excuses to touch her. When he took a step too far, Harry did not hesitate from accidentally reaching out with his leg. The fucker went tumbling face-first to the floor, and he stood silently, leaning against the wall, as Bagman helped him up.
"Had some extra booze last night, eh Bozo?" The man chuckled, patting the creepy old man on the back.
Fleur glanced over at Harry whom the photographer glared at and saw him raise an unimpressed eyebrow at him. The photographer mumbled under his breath and walked away. Harry slowly turned and his eyes met Fleur's. He raised an eyebrow in question, his lips quirking slightly when the veela turned away.
Finally, the actual photography was underway and even then, they wanted shots of different varieties – a few with them looking challengingly at each other before they asked for some pair shots. Harry found himself with Diggory and Krum in a couple, their wands raised as they stared straight ahead, when the fucker had the bright idea to switch up.
"Take two steps forward, Potter," the man called out and Harry raised an eyebrow but did as he was told, having no issue in being close to the beauty that Fleur was. The distance between them was negligible now, with him standing right behind the veela. She could lean back and her plump rear would rest right against his member, and given how stiffly she stood, trying to keep the distance between them, Harry knew she was aware of the fact.
"Now reach out with your wand under her chin, yes," the man continued and Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pushing his wand under her chin.
"Keep your wand in check, Potter. I'm sure you'll hate it if it broke somehow," she murmured under her breath as the photographer went clicking.
"Don't worry," Harry whispered in her ear, smirking when he felt her shiver. "I always make sure I have a witch's permission when I allow my wand to touch her."
Fleur breathed sharply at the innuendo and she made to turn her head back to glance at him, only for Harry to whisper again, "Now, if a witch decides to do something that involves her touching my wand on her own… well, nothing I can do about that, right?"
Fleur stopped with her head turned to the side, her blue orbs locked with his emeralds. She wanted to desperately wipe that smirk off his face but she knew doing anything here would cause a scene.
"Perfect!" The photographer exclaimed. "We're done here."
Smirking, Harry pulled his arm back and stepped away from the veela who gave him another glare.
"You're too cocky for your own good," she hissed. "Don't think I don't know what you were doing back then."
Harry knew perfectly well what she was talking about and his amusement grew as he discovered what this was all about. However, if she thought he'd allow her to have her word like that, she was sorely mistaken.
"Then you should also know that I also knew what you were doing back then," he replied, taking her by surprise. "You're not the only one who has the right to reach out with your magic."
"There's a difference between gauging and feeling up someone like that," she glared. "Keep it in mind from now on."
"Now, there's no need to level false accusations here, Miss Delacour," he whispered. "All I did was reciprocate your little advances. Or was it not you who reached out with your magic to… as you just said… feel me up? Quite hypocritical of you to do it but then get mad when I return the favor."
"I didn't feel you up!" Fleur hissed, her face burning. She should've expected this idiot to not know what he had done. Taking a deep breath, Fleur clarified, "What I did was use my abilities to gauge how strong you are as a wizard. I did not go about touching your innate magic or anything."
"Oh, and I did?"
"Absolutely!" Fleur replied. "You touched my veela magic! That's almost as bad as you coming on to me and… copping a feel!"
Try as he might, Harry could not help but take a nice glance at her generous curves that were perfectly showcased in her Beauxbatons uniform. It made him wish Hogwarts also had uniforms like those. The baggy ones they had here hid a lot, and he knew what a source of frustration it was for the boys and girls alike.
Meanwhile, Fleur did not miss his glance at her and it made her even more irritated. Glaring, she whispered, "I can tell you didn't know, uncultured British idiot that you are. But be mindful of what you do with your magic from now on!"
"Resorting to calling me names now? Very rude," Harry tutted mockingly, and if there was something Fleur Delacour hated, it was being disrespected.
Her eyes narrowed and she fired a point-blank blast of allure at the obnoxious wizard in front of her, ensuring to keep it fully controlled so that only he felt it.
Harry felt her allure instantly and the moment he did, the runes all over his skin began to prickle, working overdrive to both gain an understanding of the sheer foreign magic invading him and defending him against the onslaught, not that he needed it. His willpower was much stronger than she expected, and he could easily weather a blast of her allure.
He had successfully thwarted the Imperius Curse even before he did the ritual, after all. Throwing off her allure blast was nothing.
Fleur looked at him in shock as all he did was give her another of his smirks.
"Nice try, but you can do better. I barely even felt that," he said, and it stung.
Fleur had worked hard on her veela abilities. Only a few veela out there could control their allure with such expertise and for him to throw it off just like that further irritated her.
Before she could speak though, she was interrupted when another irritant popped up.
Both Fleur and Harry turned around as Rita Skeeter arrived in front of them, her eyes darting from one to the other as she kept grinning widely, and there was one thing the two readily agreed on.
This woman was bad news.
TBC.
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BRB with the next update. Meanwhile, check out my other fics too. Thanks for reading!