The New Trio and the Goblet of Fire

Chapter 13: The Weighing of the Wands

Harry grinned. "Well, when your boyfriend is his adopted son, you learn to look on the funny side rather than being terrified by every little thing he says."

"Oh, Merlin, that's worse!" Colin squeaked. "Remind me to look into how scary any potential boyfriends' parents are, will you?"

Harry thew his arm over Colin's shoulder. "Sure, Colin. Just remember that you can't let fear of anyone or any consequences prevent you from finding love."

Colin grinned back at him. "I'll remember, Harry. Merlin, you're like a big brother to me! I never expected to find someone like that at Hogwarts, now I just need to learn how to be just as good a big brother as you, so I can be the same for Dennis. Oh, here we are!"

They had arrived at a classroom, and with a final, "Good luck," Colin departed, and Harry was left to enter. Inside, he found all but three of the desks had been pushed to the back of the room, and the left-over ones had been covered by a length of deep purple velvet and moved to be near the blackboard, leaving a small gap between the desks and the blackboard. Also within the classroom were Bagman, Rita Skeeter, her photographer, and the five other champions; Viktor and Miro were conversing in low voices in the middle of the room, Fleur and Cedric were chatting happily about some of the secret passageways in Hogwarts, and how they'd discovered them, and Margaux Bernard was standing alone by the window, shooting small, disgusted looks towards Fleur.

At Harry's arrival, Bagman spotted him and got up quickly to get to him quickly. "Ah, here he is! Champion number six! 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-"

"Good to see you again, 'Arry," Fleur butted in, embracing him quickly. Margaux snorted, but was ignored by everyone.

Viktor came up and shook his hand, followed by Miro and Cedric.

Bagman decided to try to get back control of the situation. "This is Rita Skeeter," he gestured to the woman in introduction, "she's doing a small piece on the Tournament for the Daily Prophet..."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," Skeeter said, hungrily staring at Harry. "I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start? The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman.

Harry, however, had been prepared by Luna for this. "Actually," he said, drawing himself up slightly, "you'd have to take that up with my publicist."

"Your publicist?" asked Rita, puzzled. "Whatever would you need a publicist for?"

"Well, I am famous, no matter how much I wish I weren't. I'd rather not be maligned by someone just out for a bit of easy money, so it's her job to protect me. After that, I've got my lawyers to help me," he finished happily.

"Er-well," Rita stammered, "who's your publicist?"

"Oh, Luna Lovegood."

Rita blinked. "Lovegood? The daughter of the owner of The Quibbler?"

"Of course!"

A decade ago, The Quibbler had sued the Daily Prophet for stealing one of their more realistic articles and running it without paying a Knut for it, and the Daily Prophet had ended up paying well over a thousand Galleons because of the brilliant, if slightly bizarre, case that Xenophilius Lovegood had presented to the Wizengamot. It was a fact that had been covered up by the Daily Prophet as much as possible, but it was well-known by those who knew about the case that Luna had been taught her father's techniques, and had shown her proficiency by presenting the ending speech of the case.

Rita shivered. No way was she going to cross a Lovegood. "Erm, I might get into contact with her some time soon... How about pictures, are you allowed to be in those without her consent?" she asked desperately.

Harry shrugged. "I guess, but Luna would probably insist on having some sort of magically binding contract that no solo photographs be taken of me."

Rita nodded fervently. "Of course, of course! No contract needed!"

"Are you sure?" he asked innocently. "I have one she gave me earlier."

With a shaking hand, Rita took the contract he held out and read it, shivering at some of the... inventive punishments that magic would do to her if she broke the contract. Well, that made it impossible for her to sneak around him in her Animagus form-the contract specificallystated that if she tried to get a photo or information off him for an article while she was in any form, including, but not limited to, her normal self, under a glamour, transfigured various ways, Animagus forms, or Polyjuiced, she'd be stripped naked, covered in raspberry jam, forced to sit on an anthill, then run through Diagon Alley singing 'Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off'. Boy, was this family horrifying.

She signed it promptly, and it glowed golden then copied itself once. The original stayed with Harry, and she got the copy.

At that moment, Dumbledore and the other judges arrived with Ollivander in tow. "Ah, are we all here?" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Good! We can get started, then."

First up was Viktor, who handed over his wand for examination. Ollivander took it and hummed. "This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..." He examined the wand closely, then spoke again. ""Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, yes?" Viktor nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

Viktor's wand let out a loud blast, and some birds flew out the tip before flying out the window.

"Good, good," the man said, before gesturing to Margaux. "You next, my dear. Hmm, ah, yes... Walnut and phoenix feather! Slightly bendy... seven and three-quarter inches..." He transfigured his own hat into a white rabbit and back again. "Quite lovely wand, that."

Cedric was next, and after a tale of the unicorn that had provided the ash wand's core, Ollivander produced some silver smoke rings across the room.

Miro approached Ollivander at his behest. "Another Gregorovitch wand, yes? Sycamore, with a dragon heartstring core... twelve inches... flexible." A comfy chintz armchair appeared was conjured in the middle of the room, and Dumbledore immediately made a happy exclamation and sat down in it, immediately pulling out some knitting from somewhere. Perhaps the old goat had gone slightly senile?

"Mademoiselle Delacour, come forward, if you please," said Ollivander. She did so, and handed over her wand. "Nine and a half inches, inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."

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

"Yes, well I've found Veela hair to make quite temperamental wands, so I've never used it myself... but to each his own, and if this suits you... Orchideous!" a bunch of flowers burst from the wand, and he handed them and the wand to Fleur.

“Good. This leaves Mr Potter-Black.” Harry walked over and handed his wand to the man. However,  Oliver was fairly quiet for his wand, merely saying, “Aaaah, yes. Yes, yes, yes, Morwenna told me about this one… not what I would have chosen for you, but it seems to have worked rather nicely for you...”

He took quite some time studying it, saying nothing, then handed it back with a perfunctory, "English oak and a dual core of thunderbird feather and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches, quite supple.”

After that, all the champions were clustered together for a series of photographs, in which Rita Skeeter kept moving him further towards the back in fear of Luna's consequences, and Fleur was moved further forwards by the photographer. Then, it was suddenly over, and Harry, Fleur, Viktor, Miro, and Cedric made plans to have lunch together, then study for their first tasks in the Room of Requirement that weekend.