"That slimy, emasculated spider," Annabeth muttered angrily, slamming her stuff down on a table near the back. "That child-bullying, eight legged, cowardly—"
"Hey," Freddie said, placing a hand on Annabeth's elbow, though even she couldn't hide her glare. "Cursing Snape out isn't going to help."
"You're right. I should stab him." Annabeth lifted the sleeve of her robes to reveal the hilt of the dagger strapped to her arm.
"Woah!" Freddie exclaimed, eyes going wide as she pulled Annabeth's sleeve down. "Where did you get that?!"
"Give me that, knife, Annabeth," Vera growled, squeezing her quill so hard it started to creak in protest.
"Dagger," Annabeth corrected.
"I mean, she's a Gryffindor," Vera continued, "but still. What the actual fuck? And how dare Malfoy use that word!?"
Looking around the room, Annabeth saw that they weren't the only angry ones. In fact, most of the girls in the room were wearing murderous looks, and even a few of the boys were glaring at Snape as he shut the door.
"Antidotes!" Snape announced unpleasantly. "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..."
"That can't be allowed." Freddie frowned. "How the hell is he still a teacher?"
A knock on the door sounded before either Annabeth or Vera could reply. The door opened and a Griffindor boy walked in, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. He walked in with a huge grin on his face and went over to Snape's desk.
"Yes?" Snape said shortly.
"Please, sir," the boy said, "I'm supposed to take Harry Potter and Annabeth Chase upstairs."
"Potter and Chase have another hour of Potions to complete," Snape said coldly. "They will come upstairs when this class is finished."
"Sir— sir, Mr. Bagman wants them. All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs."
"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, Chase, leave your things here, I want you both back here later to test your antidotes."
"Please, sir— they've got to take their things with them. All the champions—"
"Very well! Potter— Chase— take your bags and get out of my sight!"
"Good luck," Freddie whispered as Annabeth shoved her things into her bag and swung the straps over her shoulders. She stood up and made her way to the door where the boy was waiting, followed by Harry.
"Isn't it amazing, Harry?" the boy said immediately after the door closed and they began walking towards the staircase. "Isn't it, though? You being champion? Oh— no offense."
"None taken," Annabeth muttered.
"What do they want photos for, Colin?" Harry asked.
"The daily prophet, I think!"
"Great," Harry said sullenly. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."
When they reached the right door, Colin said, "good luck!" excitedly and ran off.
Harry met Annabeth's eyes for a second before he looked away and knocked lightly on the door, then opened it and walked in.
Annabeth followed, entering into a small classroom, except that most of the desks were pushed to the side. Three desks, covered in a velvet tablecloth, were lined end to end in front of the blackboard, and four more were behind them, also covered in velvet.
Sitting in one of those four was none other than Ludo Bagman, and sitting in another chair was a woman in magenta robes who kept bobbing her short blond hair. Viktor Krum stood sulking in a corner, and Fleur Delacour was standing to the side, smiling and tossing her hair around proudly.
"Ah, here they are! The Hogwarts champions! In you come, Harry, in you come, you too, Miss Chase... 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 interrupted nervously.
"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. The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photoshoot. This is Rita Skeeter," Bagman said, gesturing at the woman next to him. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet—"
"Maybe not that small, Ludo," Rita Skeeter said, staring at Harry. "I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start? The youngest champion, you know... excluding Miss Chase here, of course, who would certainly be... interesting. It would add a bit of color, you see, to speak with Harry."
"Of course! That is, if Harry has no objections?"
"Er—"
"Lovely!" Rite Skeeter exclaimed. Without further ado, she grabbed Harry by the arm like a predator locking on to its prey and steered him out of the room, closing the door behind her.
"Well, then!" Bagman said, clapping his hands together. "Let's have everyone take a seat while we wait, shall we?"
At Bagman's instruction, Annabeth, Fleur, and Viktor each sat in one of the velvet draped chairs, Annabeth on the edge with Viktor next to her and Fleur next to him.
"Who is this wand expert?" Viktor asked, leaning his elbows on his knees.
"Ah, I can't spoil the surprise now, can i? You'll have to wait and see!"
Annabeth wasn't sure about Bagman. Besides for his everlasting cheery demeanor, something about him didn't sit right with her. Maybe it was his obvious favoritism for Harry, which could be explained away by Harry's fame, but Annabeth didn't think that was it.
It was his blatant delight at Harry's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire, his completely unsurprised manner when it had happened. Could it have been Bagman who had entered Harry's name? But why? What reason would he have? As far as Annabeth could tell, Bagman had no bad feelings towards Harry, so what would be the point of trying to get him killed?
It couldn't be Bagman. It made no sense.
Unless he had a different reason for entering Harry.
The door opened again, and Dumbledore entered the room, followed by Harry and Rita Skeeter. Harry scrambled into the last empty seat, and Rita Skeeter set up a piece of parchment on her knee. She set a quill on the center, where it stood in its point without support.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore said, moving to sit with the other judges. "He will be checking your wands to ensure they are in good condition before the tournament."
A man stepped forward from where he had been standing near the window, so out of the way of the rest of the room that Annabeth hadn't noticed him before.
"Mademoiselle Delacour," he said, stepping in the middle of the room, "could we have you first, please?"
Fleur stood up and walked over to the center of the room, where she handed her wand to Ollivander.
"Hm..." Ollivander said, twirling the wand between his fingers, causing gold sparks to erupt out the end. "Yes... nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."
"A hair from the head of a veela," Fleur said proudly. "One of my grandmother's."
"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... orchideous!"
The spell caused a bouquet of flowers to burst out from the wand tip. Ollivander ran his hands over the wand one more time, announced that it was in fine condition, and handed it back to Fleur, calling Viktor up next.
"Hm..." Ollivander said when Viktor had handed over his wand. "This is a Gregorovich creation, unless i'm much mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what i... however..." he brought the wand up to eye level. "Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring? Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... avis!"
The wand let out a loud blast, and then a small flock of little yellow birds flew out from the tip. They did a lap around the room and then flew out of the open window.
"Good..." Ollivander said, giving the wand back to Krum. "Now, Miss Chase, if you please?"
Annabeth stood and walked over to Ollivander, taking out her wand as she did so. Ollivander took it, holding it loosely in his long fingers.
"My, my," he said, turning it over. "Your previous school certainly lives up to it's name... I haven't seen a wand of hers in... well, it must be sixty, seventy years now... and even then..."
"You know of my wand's maker?" Annabeth said cautiously.
"Know of her? Why, she's the most revered wandmaker in history! How ever did you get a wand of her design?"
"Family connections."
"Family—"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "The examination, Mr. Ollivander?"
"Yes, right," Ollivander said, turning his bright eyed attention back to Annabeth's wand. "Let's see... walnut, dragon heartstring... ten and a half inches... one of the most flexible I've ever seen. And the carvings... immaculate, truly. She is most definitely a very talented wandmaker, the best in the business—"
"Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore said.
"Right, right," Ollivander said, clearly getting agitated at the interruptions. "Aguamenti!"
A stream of water flowed out of the wand tip, arching a few feet before falling and evaporating as it neared the floor. With a small flick, the water ceased, and Ollivander (only a little grudgingly) gave Annabeth back her wand.
"It will serve you well for a very long time," Ollivander said as Annabeth took her seat. "And that leaves... Mr. Potter."
When Harry had handed over his wand, Ollivander nodded, eyes gleaming. "Aaaah, yes... yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Ollivander spent almost as long on Harry's wand as he did on Annabeth's. Finally, he made a fountain of wine burst out from the tip and announced that it was in good form.
"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, standing up. "You may go back to your lessons now— or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—"
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" Bagman called out as everyone stood to leave. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"
"Er— yes," Rita said, staring at Harry again. "Let's do those first. And then perhaps some individual shots."
They spent the next half hour posing and being rearranged around a mini giantess in a chair. The photographer kept telling Viktor to correct his posture, bringing Fleur and Annabeth into closer view at the front, and trying to find a way to fit all the taller adults into frame. Rita Skeeter also kept ushering Harry to the front, ignoring the photographer who was mostly just trying to keep everyone in frame. After that, Rita Skeeter insisted on getting individual shots on all of the champions, and she spent much more time on Harry than she did anyone else.
After what felt like forever, they were allowed to go.
When Annabeth got to the great hall, she looked for the teal blue ends of Vera's hair, which was easy to spot in a crowd. She didn't see any unusual colors, though. After a bit of looking she found Freddie's french braided head near the center of the table, so she headed there.
"Hey," Annabeth said when she got there, sliding on to the bench next to Freddie.
"Hey! How was it?"
"Boring." Annabeth grabbed a bread roll from one of the baskets in the center of the table. "Where's Vera?"
"Last I knew, she was making out with Daisy in a broom closet," Freddie said, taking a sip from her goblet.
"Yo, Annabeth."
Annabeth looked up to see Gregory, the Slytherin prefect, standing but bent to the side as he leaned his elbow on the table.
"So I heard you socked Malfoy in the throat today," Gregory continued. "Nice. He probably deserved it. But just a word of advice for the future, it's kind of an unspoken rule in Slytherin house that we're a united front in public. Don't worry, you're off the hook this time, but keep it in mind. Gotta save face in front of the Gryffindors, you know?"
"Got it," Annabeth said. "No more punching Malfoy."
"Well, I didn't say that. Gotta knock some sense into that kid once in a while. Bullying his crush at every turn is not going to win his affection unless Potter has some serious self esteem issues."
"Malfoy has a crush on Harry?" Freddie asked.
"You didn't know?" Annabeth said. She had picked up on it during the first week of school. It was impossible not to know.
"Girl, why do you think the sixth and seventh years get absolutely wasted at every house party?" Gregory said, sitting himself on the table with his feet on the bench.
"Mr. Darwin!" Professor Flitwick called from the staff table.
"Sorry, Professor!" Gregory called back. He slid off the table and settled on the bench, looking not at all sorry."Anyway, you've never heard of the drinking game, Freckles?"
"Freddie. And what drinking game?"
"Girl. At every house party we sixth and seventh years take a shot whenever Malfoy says Potter's name. How did you not know?"
"That game was banned a few years ago," a sixth year said from a seat next to Gregory. "Because so many people got alcohol poisoning. But we still do it anyway."
"Sh! Not where Snape can hear! We gotta be quiet."
"Quiet like last year when Snape caught us at three in the morning about to sacrifice Theo to the giant squid by breaking the windows in the common room?"
"That was not our fault, excuse you."
"You're right. It was the chant. Why were we chanting 'knickers'?"
"You know what, Ty" Gregory said, shaking his head, "I barely remember that night, so therefore it doesn't count."
"Jeez, just kiss already," Freddie muttered.
Gregory looked at Ty and wiggled his eyebrows, puckering his lips. Ty smirked and shoved Gregory's face away.
"Point is, Malfoy has it bad for Potter," Gregory said, draping an arm around Ty's shoulders.
"Why am I friends with you?" Ty said, removing Gregory's arm but smiling.
A few seats away, Simone Williams cleared their throat with a noise that sounded suspiciously like Tygory. All of the Slytherins in the immediate area burst into sniggers and snorts. Gregory waved them off with a smirk.
"What was I saying? Oh right. No fighting in public unless the person insults Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."
"Gregory loves Bertie Bott's," Ty said. "No one knows why."
"It's because he's insane," Simone chimed in, stabbing their fork into the mashed potato dish and waving it at Gregory.
"Insanity is only the lack of sanity and nothing else," Gregory said.
"That's still insanity, idiot," Simone said.
Gregory loaded his fork with mashed potatoes and launched it at Simone, who shrieked and launched their own volley of food at Gregory.
"Darwin! Williams!"
"Sorry, Professor Snape," Gregory and Simone said in a two part harmony.
Annabeth laughed. Most of the school might hate them, but Annabeth was really starting to see Slytherin house as a small community, one that she was now a part of.