The Weasley Mayhem {A Weasley Love Story}

|Chapter Twenty-Four ~ Rita Skeeter|

"I still can't believe it... our best friend is a Hogwarts champion." Fred said dreamily, sitting down next to me on the bench at the Gryffindor table the next morning, slinging his arm over my shoulder George joining us a few moments later.

"Just as long as that pretty boy Diggory doesn't get too close." George grumbled as he looped his arm around my waist and tucked me into his side as though he was protecting me from unseen things.

"As if Georgie." I scoffed as I leaned my head on his shoulder, whilst taking a sip of pumpkin juice. I looked down the table and noticed that Harry was sat away from Ron and Hermione, looking down into his breakfast. "I'll be back guys." I said as slid out from the bench and walked over to the boy. "How are you holding up champ?" I asked as I bumped him with my shoulder as I sat down next to him.

"Just barely thanks, but I'm surviving." He said, grimacing at me and returning his eyes back to his plate of untouched food.

"Ah there you two are. You are needed, apparently there are interviews and the wand weighing is now." McGonagall said, rushing towards us all flushed.

"But we haven't finished breakfast." I said, looking sadly at my full plate of food that was currently now being devoured by the twins.

"No time, no time. Come along." She said, storming out of the room, her robe swishing after her. Harry and I trailed after her, I glanced back sadly at all the food spread across the four tables.

Once we entered one of the disused classrooms that had now been repurposed for the wand weighing, complete with Mr. Olivander muttering to himself about all the wands he had made and sold over the years. Harry and I joined the group of the five champions that were already in the room. Suddenly this woman appeared, in a puff of purple smoke.

"What a charismatic group of people. Hello!" She said enthusiastically. "I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the daily prophet. But of course you know that don't you. It's you we don't know. You're the news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks? What mysteries do the muscles mask? Does courage lie beneath those curls? In short, what makes a champion tick? Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers." She said, pulling up three chairs shakes all of our hands and rearranges everyone to her liking. "Right I want Ariella in the middle chair with both of the Beuxbatons students on either side. Victor, you stand behind the middle chair and then the rest of the boys in height order. Perfect. Snap that picture." She demands to the cameraman. We all blink startled by the sudden flash of light. "One more - Harry in the middle, yes yes that'll do nicely. Ariella you stand where Victor was, boys can you flank her. Harry sort your hair out pleased. Now, shall we get on with the wand weighing?" She asks, stepping aside to reveal Mr Olivander.

"Ladies first, Fleur Delacour." Olivander says, indicating for her to step forward, withdrawing her wand and handing it over. "Yes, nine and a half inches, rosewood, with a veela hair core?" He asks, looking at the blonde girl.

"Donated from my grandmutter." Fleur said proudly. Looking smugly at us as though she thought that her wand was superior to ours.

"I personally don't use that wood nor that core, I find it difficult to work with." He says, bending the wand slightly in his hand. "Inflexible." He comments, handing the wand back to her. The next person to step up is Nanette.

"Carful!" She hisses as she gives him her wand, handling the silver handled wand with great care.

"Hmm Silver Lime, it has been a while since I used this. Who made this wand?" He asks Nanette.

"My father, he is very gifted with wands." She says proudly. Mr Badour was one of the few French wandmakers. Rumour is that the wands he made were sometimes temperamental though so I wished Nanette the best of luck with that wand.

"Another veela hair core I see. It's sturdy, slightly springy, measuring at ten inches. Use it carefully." He declares. "Ahh Miss Tonks it has been a while!" He says joyously as I step up to him, handing him my wand. "I remember making this wand, willow wood, thirteen inches with a griffin feather. He was a nasty creature that one was. Unyielding. The wand of a natural born leader." He says proudly, handing me back my white wand. I loved my wand, I always thought of it as unique. Whilst everyone else had a normal looking wand mine was white that had been twisted.

"Thank you, sir." I said quietly. The rest of the wand weighing went over my head, each champion going up to Mr Olivander one after the other. Rita Skeeter brought me out of my daydream.

"So, who's feeling up to sharing? Mmm? Shall we start with the youngest Lovely." She said, grabbing Harry and dragging him off to a broom closet.

"You 'ave an interesting looking wand." A deep voice said from behind me, startling me slightly. I turned around to find Victor Krum, the Bulgarian chaser standing there with his arms folded and his wand in his hand.

"Thanks, you too." I said, noting his crooked looking wand that was clenched in his hand.

"So your brunette friend that I saw you wit in the goblet room... wat is she like?" He asked.

"My brunette friend?" I asked, confused then it dawned on me... "Oh you mean Hermione. She's great." I said awkwardly. Begging for someone to come and rescue me. My prayers were answered.

"Ariella, can I speak to you in private?" Cedric asked, indicating to the window seat.

"Yeah sure. Excuse me." I said to Victor and followed Cedric over to the window. "So what was it that you wanted to talk about?" I asked, sitting down next to him.

"I think we need to start planning about how we want to work during the tasks, and we need to discuss it. With us being in different houses this could be difficult so I think we should meet at lunchtimes." Cedric suggested.

"Yeah that sounds good to me. Just make sure to let me know when and where in advance." I said smiling. Suddenly a door burst open and in came Fred.

"Ariella!" Fred yelled, slightly out of breath, making his way into the room. Searching for me.

"Fred? What are you doing here? What's wrong?" I asked confused, why would Fred have been running? If it wasn't quidditch there was no such thing as exercise.

"It's George, him and Farren have gotten into a fight and I can't get them to stop. He's in a blind rage, won't listen to a word I say. Nearly gave Ron a black eye, snapped at Ginny. You've got to help!" Fred said, running out of the room, me close on his heels.

"What was the fight about?" I asked as we ran down the corridor and up the stairs leading to the astronomy tower.

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. It was too low for me to hear." Fred said, puffing slightly from the exertion. When we burst through the door, I saw Farren punch George in the jaw who just retaliated by punching in the stomach and grabbing Farren in a headlock.

"Stop it!" I yelled, pulling George away from Farren as Crevan grabbed his 'friend'. "What has gotten into you Georgie?" I demanded, but when I looked at him the demand fell dead in my mouth. "Come on let's get you to the hospital wing." I said noting his bloody nose and blackened eye. So that was where I spent my evening, in the hospital wing, playing exploding snaps with George, at least I didn't get trapped into an interview with Rita Skeeter.