Chapter 9: Scamming Skeeter
I finally gathered up my courage and asked Rose Evans on a date next Hogsmeade weekend. She seemed ecstatic and told me that she had been waiting for me to ask for quite some time now. I apologized for making her wait and she just smiled and kissed me on the cheek before walking away. Pretty sure my face was redder than my team's colors.
**
Leo blinked slowly before turning to Harry, wondering if he had heard correctly. Harry was staring at Dumbledore, a blank expression on his face as though he too was processing what the old man had said. Up at the top table, McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.
Leo spared a glance down his table at the Gryffindors who stared at him and his cousin open-mouthed. He then turned his head to the Slytherin table, spotting Draco who had his face in his hands. He wasn't sure if it was because he was upset that Leo had entered the tournament or embarrassed because, once again, the boy had drawn the spotlight onto himself. For once, Leo could say that it wasn't his fault this time.
At the top table, Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to McGonagall.
"Harry Potter and Leo Black!" he called again. "Harry! Leo! Up here, if you please!"
Leo rose from his seat, smoothing down the front of his robes as he fixed an impassive expression on his face. He glanced at Harry, who seemed to be nervous and shaking slightly. He grabbed his bicep, walking him to the staff table and up to Dumbledore as quickly and gracefully as possible.
"Well... through the door, you two," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.
Leo jerked his head before pulling Harry along, avoiding the stares of students and faculty alike as he led them through the door out of the Great Hall. They found themselves in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite them.
The faces in the portraits turned to look at them as they entered. They saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.
Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry and Leo walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.
"What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"
"Not bloody likely," Leo remarked in a grim tone.
There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by his other arm and led the two forward.
"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen... lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth and fifth Triwizard champions?"
Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry and Leo. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to the cousins and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"Do you see anyone laughing?" Leo quirked an eyebrow upward.
"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Their names just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.
"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "Zey cannot compete. Zey are too young."
"Oi," Leo replied indignantly. "You're never too young to compete in a tournament filled with danger and death."
"Haha! That's the spirit, Leo!" Bagman laughed heartily, clapping the boy on his shoulder.
The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Dumbledore, followed closely by Crouch, Karkaroff, Maxime, McGonagall, and Snape. Leo heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall before McGonagall closed the door.
"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zese little boys are to compete also!"
"Excuse you," Leo growled irritably. "Who're you calling little? I'm almost taller than you, sweetheart."
Fleur gave him a contemptuous look as Maxime drew herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Three Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed three champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
That fine print, it'll get ya every time. Leo longed to say this out loud, but a stern look from Minnie told him to keep his mouth shut for the time being while the adults sorted everything out.
"C'est impossible," said Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "Ogwarts cannot 'ave three champions. It is most unjust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
"It's no one's fault but Potter's and – more likely – Black's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for their determination to break rules. They have been crossing lines ever since they arrived here -"
That's fair.
"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.
Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry and Leo. Though Leo noticed that, once again, he seemed to be avoiding direct eye contact with him.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?" he asked calmly.
"No," said Harry.
"Nope," Leo replied in a bored tone.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Dumbledore.
"No," said Harry vehemently.
Leo stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised in mild shock.
"Bloody hell, why didn't I think of that?" he swore under his breath.
Dumbledore seemed satisfied with this response.
"Ah, but of course zey are lying!" cried Maxime.
Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.
"They could not have crossed the Age Line," said McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Maxime, shrugging.
"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry and Leo could not have crossed the line themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"
She shot a very angry look at Snape.
"Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half-hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half-darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.
"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. Well, uglier than normal anyway. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has three champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"Hate to break it to you, but you only have one Krum," Leo mumbled under his breath.
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"
"- in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"
Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk. Leo didn't know whether to be relieved or on edge by his mere presence. He settled for watching the man warily, tightening his grip slightly on Harry's right arm.
"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
Leo could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.
"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter and Black's names in that goblet knowing they'd have to compete if it came out."
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts three bites at ze apple!" said Maxime
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"
"If anyone's got a reason to complain, it's Potter and Black," growled Moody, "but... funny thing... I don't hear them saying a word..."
"Well, that's probably because Harry is stunned and still processing what the bloody hell just happened and I'm a thrill-seeker who's been wanting to enter this tournament since I first heard about it," Leo shrugged before narrowing his eyes at everyone. "But that doesn't mean I put my name in there."
"We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!" Fleur stamped her foot angrily, seeming upset that the two were allowed to compete.
"Maybe someone's hoping they will die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.
An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Moody, old man... what a thing to say!"
"Well, I mean, he's not wrong," Leo responded, drawing attention onto himself. "We've had people trying to kill us every year – why should this one be any different? Granted, this seems a lot less hands-on than what we're normally used to – a bit lazy if you ask me – but Professor Moody is right."
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Cedric, Leo, and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
Dumbledore waited, but Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited. Leo was getting there, suppressing the urge to bounce up and down.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" Bagman said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"
Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie. "Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes... the first task...
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told the champions "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important.
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.
"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."
Danger, excitement, and now no tests? This was shaping up to be one of the greatest days in the life of Leo Black.
Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"
"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment... I've left young Weatherby in charge... Very enthusiastic... a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."
Leo managed to cover up his laugh with a cough.
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.
But Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Leo could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall and suddenly wished he had Draco with him. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.
"Harry, Leo, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at the three of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
Leo nodded before pulling Harry out of the room with Cedric following close behind them. The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.
"So," said Cedric, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"
"I s'pose," said Harry.
"So... tell me..." said Cedric as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. "How did you get your names in?"
"Asked a leprechaun. He was quite willing once I offered him a pot of gold," Leo replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "If you'd been paying attention, you'd know that we didn't, Diggory."
"Ah... okay," said Cedric awkwardly. "Well... see you, then."
Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right. The two Gryffindors stood listening to him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, slowly, they started to climb the marble ones. Once they reached the seventh floor, Leo bid farewell to his cousin, telling him he was going to send a letter to Remus and Sirius. Harry looked relieved before nodding and heading to the portrait of the Fat Lady.
Leo climbed the steps to the Owlery before walking in and lighting his wand. He scrounged around for parchment, a quill, and some ink – having not brought any of his own – before leaning against a wall and writing:
Dear Moonbeam and Fluffy,
So... the champions were decided today and there were five of them. Krum, some girl with an attitude from Beauxbatons, a Hufflepuff, and... me and Harry. For the record, I'd just like to state NONE OF THIS IS MY FAULT.
I didn't enter – no matter how badly I wanted to – and nor did Harry. Moody thinks someone's trying to kill us, which sounds pretty par for the course. Personally, I feel like Voldy's getting lazy sending us into a tournament of death rather than trying to do us in on his own like he has in the past.
Anyway, our first task is on the 24th of November and they won't tell us what it is. I'm looking forward to it.
Hope you're doing well.
Love,
Leo
P.S.: Harry says 'hi'.
Leo read over his letter before nodding, placing it in a spare envelope and whistling for Apollo. The owl swooped down from where he was nestled next to Hedwig before snatching the letter from the teen's hand and taking off. He watched his friend for a moment before heading down the stairs and back to Gryffindor tower, giving the Fat Lady the password before she could say anything.
The blast of noise that met Leo's ears when the portrait opened almost knocked him backward. Next thing he knew, he was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.
Leo grinned broadly as he was jerked around, everyone asking how he and Harry had entered. Figuring that no one would believe him if he told the truth, he told various tales throughout the night. They ranged from flying over with his broom to persuading a centaur to do it for him. He received many gales of laughter as Gryffindor partied through the night, enjoying the fact that at least one of their champions wanted to celebrate.
**
Leo was awake early the next morning, a broad grin on his face as he rolled out of bed, changed clothes, and walked down into the common room. Various people were already awake, applauding him and high-fiving him as he walked out of the portrait hole and down the stairs to the Great Hall. Before he could enter it, however, someone grabbed him by his arm and pulled him off to a side passage. Leo whirled around, pointing his wand at his abductor before lowering it upon realizing it was Draco.
"Bloody hell, don't do that," Leo groused, retracting his wand. "I almost took your head off."
Draco was silent, scrutinizing him carefully. After a moment, he seemed to reach a decision.
"You didn't put your name in, did you?" he questioned.
"How did you -?"
"Please, if you'd put your name in you'd have been screeching so loud Hogsmeade would have heard you," Draco rolled his eyes as Leo snorted. "Who do you think put you and Potter into the tournament?"
"Same bloke who tried to do us in years ago. Or, at the very least, someone who works for him," Leo shrugged, recalling Harry's dream.
"And knowing you, you don't care – you're just excited for the tournament."
Leo grinned broadly in response.
Despite the fact that Draco – and Hermione – believed that he and Harry hadn't put their names into the Goblet, no one else seemed to share the same opinion. The way they were treated throughout the castle over the course of the next few days was especially telling.
The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry and Leo had stolen their champion's glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, with whom Harry normally got on very well - and whom Leo was at least on tolerable terms with - did not talk to either of them even though they were re-potting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray - though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face. Leo, while wanting to laugh, had retaliated by using a mild wind spell and causing the two Hufflepuffs to face-plant into their Bulbs.
Care of Magical Creatures went slightly better, in the blonde's opinion. Zabini always made things too easy for him.
"Ah, look, boys, it's the champions," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Leo and Harry. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt they're going to be around much longer... Half the Triwizard champions have died... how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Black? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."
"That's ten minutes longer than you've ever lasted in a duel against me," Leo smirked as the Gryffindors and Draco snorted with laughter.
Zabini wasn't able to retaliate as 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. Personally, Leo didn't think lack of exercise was the problem. The skrewts were just awful.
"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. Leo, if yeh could help 'em? Harry - you come here an' help me with this big one..."
Leo was very reluctant to do so but helped his Gryffindor mates and Draco attach their leashes. He then turned to the Slytherins and grinned evilly. All their expressions paled instantly. Ten minutes later found them shrieking in fear and running around with the skrewts skittering along after them and the rest of the class bent double with laughter.
As the days progressed, Leo soon found that most of the school had turned against him and Harry. Unlike his cousin, this didn't really bother the boy much. People were fickle – and very, very stupid. The fact that almost the entire world believed that his uncle was a mass murderer was a testament to this. He handled insults by either ignoring them or quipping back at them with a witty comment. If he felt that they had gone too far, he pulled pranks and continued on his merry way when people suddenly found their shoes glued to the floor. Leo had to pull that particular trick as he and Draco made their way down to Potions after lunch.
Unfortunately, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment, Leo thought they were S.P.E.W. badges - then he saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:
SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY--
THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!
"Like them, Black?" said Zabini loudly as Leo approached. "And this isn't all they do - look!"
He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:
POTTER AND BLACK STINK!
The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too until the message POTTER AND BLACK STINK was shining brightly all around Leo. He couldn't help but feel unbelievably underwhelmed by the lack of creativity. He exchanged an exasperated look with Draco as Harry and Hermione joined them and the other Gryffindors.
"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really witty."
"Want one, Granger?" said Zabini, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."
Leo flicked out his wand in an instant but was stopped when Draco grabbed his wrist, shaking his head and jerking his head at the potions room door. Snape could come out at any moment, but the thought didn't seem to occur to Harry as the boy drew his own wand and pointed it at Zabini, who pointed his right back.
For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.
"Furnunculus!" Harry yelled.
"Densaugeo!" screamed Zabini.
Jets of light shot from both wands hit each other in midair and ricocheted off at angles - Harry's hit Goyle in the face and Zabini's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.
"Hermione!"
Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Leo turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin - panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.
"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.
Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Draco and said, "Explain."
"Zabini attacked Potter – their spells ricocheted and hit Granger and Goyle," Draco informed him, altering the truth slightly.
Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.
"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.
"What about Hermione?" Leo argued.
Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."
Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.
Draco clamped his hand over Leo's mouth before he could start shouting at the greaseball alongside Harry and Ron. The two started shouting at Snape at the same time; luckily their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.
"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."
Leo grumbled to himself as Draco removed his hand and they took their usual spots, staring mutinously at Snivellus as he did so.
"Antidotes!" said Snape, looking around at them all, his cold black eyes glittering 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..."
Snape's eyes met Leo's, and Leo knew what was coming. Snape was going to poison him. Leo had a sudden vision involving him filling his cauldron with soap and chasing Snape around the castle. A knock on the dungeon door burst in on Leo's thoughts.
It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at Harry and Leo, 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 Potter and Leo Black upstairs."
Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.
"Potter and Black have another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "They will come upstairs when this class is finished."
Colin went pink.
"Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants them," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs..."
Draco face-palmed as Leo's face alighted with glee. His ego would be unbearable to be around after this.
"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, Black, leave your things here, I want you both back down here later to test your antidotes."
"Please, sir – they've got to take their things with them," squeaked Colin. "All the champions..."
"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter - Black - take your bags and get out of my sight!"
Leo swung his bag over the shoulder, backing out of the room and blowing kisses before Harry grabbed him by the back of his robes and hauled him out. Leo pouted, folding his arms over his chest as they exited the classroom.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind them. "Isn't it, though? You two being champions?"
"Ace," Leo replied in a mildly irritated tone, still upset that Harry had dragged him out so abruptly.
"Yeah, really amazing," said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"
"The Daily Prophet, I think!"
"Great," said Harry dully. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."
"Don't worry, Harry, I'll handle it," Leo waved his hand airily.
"That only makes me worry more."
"You're the rudest brother I've ever had."
This elicited a smile from Harry, as it always did when Leo called them brothers. Colin bid them good luck when they reached the right door. Harry raised his hand to knock, but Leo pushed the door opened and strode in.
He was in 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 Leo had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.
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 Leo 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. Leo thought he recognized him as the cameraman he had tripped in Flourish and Blotts a few years ago.
Bagman suddenly spotted them, got up quickly, and bounded forward.
"Ah, here they are! Our remaining champions! In you come, 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 photoshoot. 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 Harry.
Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of color?"
"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is - if Harry has no objection?"
"Leo Black does," Leo piped up, hoping his name would gain her attention.
Her eyebrows rose slightly.
"Black? As in -?"
"Only child of Castor Black – nephew to Sirius Black? Incredibly good-looking and unbelievably witty?" Leo put on his most charming smile. "Why, yes, that would be me."
"Lovely, perhaps you would -?"
"Like to be interviewed?" Leo finished. "Absolutely. Lead the way."
In a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Leo's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door. Leo only had a brief moment to wink at Harry before the door was closed behind him.
"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's a broom cupboard," Leo remarked dryly.
"Come along, dear - that's right - lovely," said Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing Leo 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, Leo, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally. .."
"Whatever floats your boat, honey," Leo responded in a blank tone, not knowing or caring what the Quill was.
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."
The moment Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment:
Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations -
"Holy shit you're old," Leo remarked in surprise.
Skeeter scowled slightly as she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned toward Leo.
"So, Leo... what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Danger and excitement. Duh," he rolled his eyes.
"How do you feel about the tasks ahead?" said Skeeter. "Excited? Nervous?"
"Excited."
"Champions have died in the past, haven't they?" said Skeeter briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"
"Eh, not really," he shrugged. "Gotta go some time, right?"
Skeeter smiled widely.
The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forward as though it were skating.
"Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you?" said Skeeter, watching him closely. "How would you say that's affected you?"
"It hasn't?" he frowned, having not really thought about it all that much.
"Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To erase the smudge your uncle has left on your family name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because you thought it would make your parents proud?"
"The answer to all of those is no," Leo answered in a slightly more irritated tone. "I entered for me – no one else."
"Can you remember your parents at all?" said Skeeter.
"Oh, yeah," Leo replied sarcastically. "All the lullabies and hugs that I received when I was barely a year old – I remember it all."
"How do you think they'd feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?"
"All of the above," he replied shortly.
"What can you tell me about your uncle?"
"He's a lovely singer."
Before Skeeter could say another word, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Leo looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard.
"Dumbledore!" cried Skeeter, with every appearance of delight - but Leo noticed that her quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Skeeter'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 Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"
"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."
Leo snorted despite himself.
"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore and that many wizards in the street -" Skeeter began.
"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 one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard."
Very glad to get away from Skeeter, Leo hurried back into the room. The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat down quickly next to Harry, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting - Karkaroff, Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman. Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Leo 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.
"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."
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.
Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.
"Hmm..." he said.
He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.
"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
A family wand. Sorta like mine. Leo raised his eyebrows in mild intrigue.
"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "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..."
Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.
"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."
Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.
"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition... You treat it regularly?"
"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.
Leo rolled his eyes. Of course he polished his wand last night. Bet he polishes his wand every night. He suppressed a snort of laughter at this thought.
Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."
Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."
He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.
"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"
The hornbeam wand let off a blast hike a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.
"Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Next is... Mr. Potter."
Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand
"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition before asking for Leo's. The boy rose from his seat, flicking his wand out and spinning it in his hand before handing it to the man.
"Ah, yes, red oak and phoenix feather – a dueler's wand," he nodded carefully, examining the wand. "I daresay it has seen much of that – the core seems to have bonded to you quite strongly... rather unusual for phoenix feather..."
He continued to murmur as he looked over the wand before giving it a flick and blinking when it did nothing. Instead of frowning, Mr. Ollivander smiled in delight before handing it off to Leo and asking him to perform a spell with it. The boy thought for a moment before going with a standard Incindeo, creating various shapes with the flames before extinguishing the fire and re-holstering his wand.
"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 -"
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 Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Leo and Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."
The photographs took a long time. 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 Leo 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 Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Leo and Harry into greater prominence – at least until the inside of her bag mysteriously caught alight and she had to run to extinguish it. They were dismissed rather quickly after that.
Leo and Harry sat down at dinner, wherein Leo filled him in on all the questions Skeeter had asked. Harry seemed immensely relieved that he hadn't had to answer the rather invasive questions and chuckled a bit at a few of his cousin's responses. Their dinner was interrupted halfway through by the appearance of Apollo, who dropped a letter in Leo's lap before taking off.
Leo opened the letter quickly with Harry leaning over his shoulder as they both read:
Leo,
Can't talk unless the owl is intercepted. We need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you and Harry are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?
Neither of us thinks you entered the tournament of your own volition – we'd've heard the shrieks of joy from all the way at the Den if you had. It feels pointless to warn you to stay wary and be careful since I know the latter is not in your nature.
Let us know about the 22nd as soon as you can.
Love,
Uncle Siri and Moony