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𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓸𝓻 𝓜𝓮?
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— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
Irritated, I swated away the hand of the person who was trying lift my head up.
I blinked a couple of times before my eyes agreed to open and I was met up with Theo's head buried on my stomach and his claok wrapped around us like a burrito.
" Oh! Did I wake you up? I'm sorry " A silvery voice said from the entrance of the astronomy tower.
I turned my head to see a with waist-length dirty blonde hair, large, innocent blue eyes and delicate features.
But, the most peculiar thing that caught my eyes were her butterbeer cork necklace and earrings.
" I thought you'd be uncomfortable so, I just kept a pillow " she pointed below my head
Ah, so that's why my head felt much more comfortable
" And if you don't mind, I kept a few charms near him - the nargels seem to pester him a lot " she smiled
I felt like I knew her, I mean I do but it's just I don't get who she is
" Do I know you ? "
" I don't think so " she shook her head " but I know you "
I nodded, everyone did know me - nothing new
I adjusted myself so that Theo's head rested on my lap and sat up, stretching my hand towards the girl who gladly took it.
" Luna Lovegood " She shook my hand excitedly
Holy shit, I'm really talking to Luna Lovegood? I was really tempted to say that I was her huge fan, only if that didn't risk me going in a mental ward of Saint Mungos or becoming a test subject for the unspeakables.
" It's a pleasure to meet you Luna " I smiled widely
" You should leave, classes start soon " she said " you're really kind Camelia "
I watched as the girl walked out of the door. Her steps clashed with the stairs until they entirely faded
She was wrong
I am nowhere kind
•••
If I thought that matters would improve once everyone got used to the idea of me being champion, the Hufflepuffs showed me just how mistaken I was.
The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with both Slytherins and Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of us. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this.
It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry and I had stolen their champion’s glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory.
Somehow even Professor Sprout seemed
distant with us — but then, she was Head of Hufflepuff House.
Sitting under a tree, Harry and I were waiting for Hagrid to arrive because honestly no one were talking to us.
Astoria seemed angry that I did not come back to the common room yesterday and she waited the whole night for me to come and talk to them.
Draco seemed to be angry because he felt like he atleast deserved an explanation.
The only person who was talking to me was Theo. But, I could very well see how he wanted to ask me what happened.
Harry wasn't in a better condition either and I could tell because he was more clingy than usual.
Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large
Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class’s horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk.
“Take this thing for a walk?” Draco repeated in disgust, staring into
one of the boxes. “And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?”
“Roun’ the middle,” said Hagrid, demonstrating. “Er — yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus’ as an extra precaution, like. Harry, Lia — you come here an’ help me with this big one. . . .”
I snorted at Theo's horrified face as Hagrid proceeded to take Harry and I
' you can't leave me with this thing alone ' he mouthed to me and I shrugged
Hagrid’s real intention, however, was to talk to Harry and I away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to us and said, very seriously,
“So — yer competin’, Harry, Lia. In the tournament. School champion.”
“One of the champions,” Harry corrected him. Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows.
“No idea who put yeh in fer it?”
“You believe we didn’t do it, then?” said Harry, concealing with difficulty the rush of gratitude he felt at Hagrid’s words.
“ ’Course I do,” Hagrid grunted. “Yeh say it wasn’ you, an’ I be- lieve yeh — an’ Dumbledore believes yer, an’ all.”
“Wish I knew who did do it,” said Harry bitterly.
" I wish everyone believed we didn't put our names " I sighed
The three of us looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and
colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor.
They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs — but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.
“Look like they’re havin’ fun, don’ they?” Hagrid said happily.
I assumed he was talking about the skrewts, because my classmates certainly weren’t; every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts’ ends would explode, causing it to shoot forward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.
“Ah, I don’ know” Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at us with a worried expression on his face.
“School champions . . . everythin’ seems ter happen ter you two, doesn’ it?”
" We Potters are cursed it seems " I joked
The next few days were some of my worst at Hogwarts. Even if no one dared to say anything on my face and the Slytherins even defended me in front of others - I still couldn't ignore that seething stares and frowns directed towards me.
It felt like I was back with the Dursleys
Astoria and Draco too started speaking to me again - but the disappointment and pity in their words irked me and so I was the one who didn't speak to them.
Theo asked me about it a few more times but stopped when he realised I wouldn't be saying anything
Atleast not now.
I felt someone bump onto my shoulders and turned to see Astoria looking at me with concern
" You have to eat too, you know. Staring at the food won't fill you "
I looked at the barely touched food in front of me, somehow they made me nauseous
Just as I was about to take an unwilling bite, Sky soared above me, dropping a howler right beside my plate
' Look! Potter's gotten a howler '
Ha! Look at these people having fun in someone's demise.
Carefully I opened the howler and nearly fell from my chair when Sirius's voice started shouting from the howler.
Even the teachers at the head tables stopped eating and started at me.
" CAMELIA CERELIA POTTER "
Not the government name
" AND YOU TOO HARRY JAMES POTTER "
The howler turned towards Harry who tried his best to disappear
"FIRST OF ALL, HOW DARE YOU TWO NOT INFORM ME ABOUT THE TRIWIZARD SHIT
SIRIUS LANGUAGE
SECONDLY, How are my pups? Are you alright? Do want me to come get you? You can always get into ilvermorny - you know that right? "
I snorted at the sudden change in his tone
" I'm disappointed that it wasn't you who told me but snivel - I mean Snape who did "
And I would like to believe I wasn't the only one shocked because everyone was staring at Professor Snape who himself was trying to not look at anyone
" Let us know if there's anything you need, We would try our best "
" Oh, and I didn't really find any dirt on that woman - I'm impressed at how good she is at hiding her life "
And the howler burned to ashes right in front of me.
Did Sirius really have to say that in a howler?
•••
I was about to start brewing antidotes for potions when Colin Creevey edged into the room, beaming at Harry, and walked up to Snape’s desk at the front of the room.
“Yes?” said Snape curtly.
“Please, sir, I’m supposed to take Harry and Camelia Potter upstairs.” Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.
“Potters have another hour of Potions to complete,” said Snape coldly. “they will come upstairs when this class is finished.”
Was this the same man who wrote a letter to Sirius Black about us?
“Sir — sir, Mr. Bagman wants them,” he said nervously. “All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photo- graphs. . . .”
“Very well, Camelia, Potter - take your things and get out "
I swung my bag over my shoulder, got up, and headed for the door. As I walked through the Gryffindor tables, I waited for Harry to get up - but he just stared at me
" Come on? " I said
" But he said ' Camelia Potter not Camelia and Harry Potter ' " Harry replied confused
I turned to look at Snape who looked annoyed by Harry
" I said Camelia, Potter - get out "
Harry took his bag and walked out with me before looking at me
" Wasn't that the same thing? " He complained and before I could answer an excited voice cut me off in between
“It’s amazing, isn’t it, Harry?” said Colin, starting to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind him. “Isn’t it, though? You being champion?”
“Yeah, really amazing,” said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. “What do they want photos for, Colin?”
But he didn't answer again, instead Collin had hoped to my side, clutching onto his camera
" I have never seen you so close before " his eyes twinkled
" Can I take a picture? You are so pretty - I bet you'd look amazing. I promise I will give you a copy " he blabbed making me laugh
" Of course" I said and squatted under a potrait letting the brownish - black intricates of the wall, adorn my picture
" See - see, you look so good " Collin happily showed me his camera and damn - he wasn't wrong. I did look amazing
“Good luck!” said Colin when we had reached the right room.
Harry knocked on the door and we entered. It was a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in
front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch I despised
Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than I had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.
That's creepy
Bagman suddenly spotted us, got up quickly, and bounded forward.
“Ah, here they are! Champion number four and five! In you come, Harry, Camelia, 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 repeated 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,” said Bagman. “The expert’s upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there’s going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter,” he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. “She’s doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily
Prophet. . . .”
“Maybe not that small, Ludo,” said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on me " it's a pleasure to meet you again Camelia Potter" she gave a shark like smile and I really wanted to knock all her teeth out.
This woman had written so much about me after Sirius's trial and the rumours made me think ' I did that? '
.
“I wonder if I could have a little word with the Potters before we start?” she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at me. “The youngest champions, you know . . . to add a bit of color?”
“Certainly!” cried Bagman. “That is — if the Potters have no objection?”
“Er —” said Harry.
“Lovely,” said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry’s upper arm in, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door.
I ran a bit to catch up to the duo and yanked Harry out of her arms, glaring at the woman
“We don’t want to be in there with all that noise,” she said. “Let’s see . . . ah, yes, this is nice and cozy.” It was a broom cupboard. I stared at her.
“Come along, dear — that’s right — lovely,” said Rita Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing us down onto a cardboard box, and closing the door,
throwing them into darkness. “Let’s see now . . .” She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out
a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair, so that they could see what they were doing.
“You won’t mind, Harry, Camelia, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally. . . .”
“A what?” said Harry.
Rita Skeeter’s smile widened.
She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.
“Testing . . . my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter.” I looked down quickly at the quill. The moment Rita
Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skid- ding across the parchment: Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage
quill has punctured many inflated reputations —
Honestly, I was rather impressed. I should ask her how she charmed them - they'd be a darling help while taking notes in the class.
“Lovely,” said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned towards us and said, “So, Potter's . . . what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”
“Er —” said Harry again, but he was distracted by the quill.
Even though he wasn’t speaking, it was dashing across the parch- ment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence: An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes —
“Ignore the quill, Harry,” said Rita Skeeter firmly. Reluctantly, Harry looked up at her instead. “Now — why did you decide to enter the tournament, Potter's?”
“we didn’t,” said Harry. “I don’t know how our names got into the Goblet of Fire. We didn’t put it in there.” Rita Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow.
“Come now, Harry, there’s no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn’t really have entered at all. But don’t worry about that. Our readers love a rebel.”
“But we didn’t enter,” Harry repeated. “I don’t know who —”
“How do you feel about the tasks ahead?” said Rita Skeeter. “Excited? Nervous?”
" Rita " my voice rang freaking her out. Did she forget I was there too?
" You will make that quill of yours write whatever I want it to write and you will only publish what I want you to "
I glanced at the parchment that now held the words : Camelia Potter, a pretty Slytherin but ugly attitude, unlike her meek brother, she seems to be the devil
" And why would I do that " Rita Skeeter again gave me her shark like smile
" Rita Skeeter, the famous journalist of the Daily Prophet has been said to have a son she abandoned - a son she gave birth after a freakishly hot night with a muggle at a bar.....oh the shame, isn't it Rita? " I smiled at her
The quill now started scribbling furiously on the parchment, somehow it seemed to match the sneer on her face: Camelia seems to be love a sneaky gossip about her elders, no respect
" That's not true at all " she scowled
" I know. But, think - who would everyone trust more? Me or you ? " I leaned against Harry
" I am a journalist, of course they would trust me more " she proudly said
" Wrong " I tooted " firstly, I am the girl who lived - right now, I have more influence over the media than you could ever have. Secondly, who would care if my accusations of yours are false if I first give the ministry a hint of you doing something illegal - everyone would most likely believe that all my assumptions for you are true " I grinned, I was really enjoying this
" What are you talking about, I don't understand. I have done nothing illegal" she started to sound annoyed now. But, the quill had suprisingly stopped.
I could feel how stressed she had become, how scared she was. And, it was very pleasant - it was satisfying how she was on the edges, how she feared me
" We both know who's the bettle in this room " I calmly said and Rita's breath hitched " I let the ministry know about the bettle and you are finished - your entire career you build is. So tell me, are you still willing to not publish what I want you to? " My voice dripped like honey coated venom and I leaned towards her staring her right in the eyes, showing her exactly what could happen to her - what I could do with her.
Smirking I watched Rita Skeeter, a well known journalist surving under my mercy, write whatever I wanted her to.
It wasn't long after that the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. I looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at the three of us, squashed into the cupboard.
“Dumbledore!” cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight — but her quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Rita’s clawed fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her
crocodile-skin bag. “How are you?” she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore.
“I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Con-
federation of Wizards’ Conference?”
“Enchantingly nasty,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat.” Rita Skeeter didn’t look remotely abashed.
“I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street —”
“I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita,” said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, “but I’m afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if two of our champions are hidden in a broom cupboard.”
Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Harry and I hurried back into the room. The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and I sat down quickly next to Krum, looking up at the
velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting — Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; I saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her
knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment.
Giving her my brightest smile, I moved my fingers like that of a bettle before turning towards Dumbledore
“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges’ table and talking to the champions. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”
Seeing the old man had me think of the first time I met him, and the first time I held my wand - three years ago
I disassociated myself from the room until my name had been called and walked to Mr. Ollivander, handing him my wand
" My father's finest creation " he said trailing his fingers around my wand
" Silverlime wood with Cadmean vixen hair and pixie wing core , 12 ½ inches and reasonably supple flexibility. A wand that can forge the greatest alliances and fool great men "
I still have no clue what he means by that.
Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining my wand than anyone else’s. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to me, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.
“Thank you all,” said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges’ table. “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 —”
Feeling that at last something had gone right today, I got up to leave, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.
“Photos, Dumbledore, photos!” cried Bagman excitedly. “All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?”
“Er — yes, let’s do those first,” said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry and I again. “And then perhaps some individual shots.”
The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn’t stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept
twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl; Krum, whom I would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group.
The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry and I into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, we were free to go.
Harry did not leave my hand as we walked down to the hall.
" Why did you do that? must everyone fear you? " He curiosly asked
" Because if they can't respect me, I'll make them - by fear or by accomplishments "
ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄɪɴɢ ..........
𝙻𝚄𝙽𝙰 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳
𝑶𝒉! 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕