Any further conversation was cut short by the arrival of Dumbledore and Ollivander.
Rita quickly masked her irritation, slipping back into her polished facade as she turned to Dumbledore, her voice suddenly bright and enthusiastic.
"How are you?" she asked, extending one of her large, mannish hands toward him. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"
"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "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 would be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," Dumbledore interjected smoothly, giving her a courteous bow and warm smile, "but I'm afraid we must postpone the discussion. The Weighing of the Wands is about to begin."
The other champions, who had been standing around the room, began taking their seats near the door.
I followed suit, settling next to Cedric and glancing up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were already seated: Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman.
Rita Skeeter seated herself in a corner, pulling out a roll of parchment.
She smoothed it across her knee, flicked the end of her Quick-Quotes Quill, and placed it on the parchment, where it immediately began scrawling on its own.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, now seated at the judges' table. He gestured toward the elderly wandmaker, who stepped forward with a serene expression.
"He will be examining your wands to ensure they are in perfect condition for the tournament."
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" asked Mr. Ollivander, moving into the open space in the center of the room.
Fleur Delacour swept over and handed him her wand.
"Hmmm…" Ollivander murmured as he twirled the wand between his long fingers. Pink and gold sparks shot out of the tip, illuminating the room briefly.
"Yes," he said quietly, examining the wand closely. "Nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," Fleur explained, her tone proud. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
"Ah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, nodding. "I have never used veela hair myself. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… but to each their own. If it suits you…"
He ran his fingers delicately along the wand, checking for imperfections, and muttered, "Orchideous!" A bouquet of flowers burst from the tip, earning a faint smile from Fleur.
"Very well, very well. It is in fine working order," Ollivander declared, handing both the wand and flowers back to Fleur. "Mr. Diggory, you next."
The wand inspections continued, much as they had in canon. Ollivander was noticeably more enthusiastic about Cedric's wand, which he had crafted himself, and less so about Viktor Krum's, which bore the mark of Gregorovitch.
Finally, it was my turn.
"Which leaves… Mr. Potter," Ollivander said.
I rose from my seat, walking past Krum to hand over my wand.
"Aaaah, yes," Ollivander said, his pale eyes gleaming with recognition. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
He spent considerably more time examining my wand than he had with the others. As he did, he gave me a curious look, one I couldn't quite decipher.
Eventually, he conjured a fountain of wine from the wand and handed it back to me, announcing it was still in perfect condition.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat. "You may return to your lessons—or perhaps go directly to dinner, as they are about to begin."
"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, her eyes flicking to me with a gleam of interest.
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, 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 trying to make me stay at the front.
Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, we were free to go.
I said goodbye to Cedric before heading toward the Great Hall. I was starving, and the thought of dinner quickened my pace.
When I entered, I spotted Hermione sitting at our usual table, saving me a seat on her right.
With a sigh, I sank down beside her and began recounting just how much hassle the whole affair had been.
As I started relaying the details to Hermione, she gave me an amused smile, shaking her head slightly.
"Sounds like it was exhausting," she said, cutting into a piece of roast chicken on her plate. "I have heard of Rita Skeeter. She seems to be a real piece of work . Did she ask you for an interview?"
"She did," I replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "But I turned her down. I got the feeling she wasn't interested in the truth—just something sensational she could twist into a headline."
Hermione nodded approvingly. "Smart decision. Rita Skeeter has a reputation for bending the truth. She'll write whatever sells, no matter how it affects people."
"Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly," I said, rolling my eyes. "She spent more time chatting with Dumbledore than paying attention to the wand weighing."
Hermione gave a small hum of agreement, but her brow furrowed slightly. "Be careful, Harry. Just because you didn't give her an interview doesn't mean she won't write about you. People like her don't let facts get in the way of a good story."
"Don't worry," I assured her. "If she tries anything, I'll deal with it. I'm not going to let her mess with me."
Her expression softened. "Good. You've got enough to worry about without her adding to it."
We returned to our meals, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we finished eating.
**********************************************
Check out my patreon for more advanced chapters of
Harry Potter : The Archmage Awakens
Reality Bending in One Piece
https://www.patreon.com/Eternal97
**********************************************
Check out my patreon for more advanced chapters of
Harry Potter : The Archmage Awakens
Reality Bending in One Piece
https://www.patreon.com/Eternal97
After dinner, Hermione and I made our way to the common room, chatting quietly about classes and tomorrow's schedule.
"You've really been ahead in Charms lately," Hermione noted, glancing at me sideways. "It's impressive. Are you practicing without telling me?"
"Maybe," I teased, smirking. "Or maybe I'm just naturally gifted."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched in amusement. "Well, I've always said you're talented, Harry, but before, you just weren't that interested in showing it."
"Guess I've had a change of heart," I said lightly.
"Well, you still need to be careful. That Summoning Charm you used today still lacked precision. Your book managed to smack Malfoy in the face."
"That," I said with a grin, "was perfectly executed."
Hermione laughed, shaking her head as we entered the common room.
Once we said our goodnights, I climbed the stairs to the dormitory, feeling the usual warmth of the Gryffindor Tower.
________________________________________
The dormitory was quiet, save for the soft snores of my dorm mates. The curtains around their beds were drawn, and the golden glow of the enchanted torches flickered softly.
A barn owl perched on my bedpost, its talons gripping the wood as it gave a soft hoot of impatience. It shifted slightly as I approached, tilting its head to look at me.
I strode over and took the letter from its leg, murmuring a quick, "Thanks." I reached for the small pouch of owl snacks, I kept near Hedwig's stand and offered the bird a treat, which it snatched eagerly before fluttering to stand on the table near my table awaiting if I had any response for him.
The letter bore no name, but I didn't need one to know who it was from. Sirius.
***********************************************
Harry —
I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted — we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?
I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody, I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose. Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.
***********************************************
I wrote back immediately, confirming that I'd be there and sending the letter off with the same owl. It gave a low hoot before taking flight, disappearing into the darkness outside.
The next few days were uneventful. I spent time with Hermione, who continued to be her usual studious self, and Fred and George, who dragged me into their latest prank experiments.
One evening, I helped them test a prototype for their "Skiving Snackboxes." Despite my protests, George insisted I try a Nosebleed Nougat, and within seconds, I found myself clutching a tissue to my face as a torrent of blood poured from my nose.
They roared with laughter while shoving the antidote half of the snack into my hand.
________________________________________________
Rita Skeeter also published her article, but it seemed she'd taken my threat seriously.
While the piece was still centered around me, it only covered the events of the Wand Weighing Ceremony and refrained from twisting facts. Hermione, however, was less impressed.
"I still don't understand how she gets away with this," Hermione muttered, frowning at the article over breakfast. "She practically ignored Cedric!"
"Nothing new there," I said with a shrug. "She only cares about drama—and Cedric's too normal to sell papers."
"But still!" she insisted, her voice rising slightly. "The way she writes about Fleur—it's so shallow. And Krum? She only cares about his fame."
"She's a journalist, Hermione. That's what they do—drama sells. You should've seen the tabloids back in the Muggle world."
The article included small mentions of Viktor Krum, due to his fame, and Fleur Delacour, because of her beauty.
Cedric, on the other hand, was relegated to a passing mention as "the other Hogwarts champion."
Rita still tried to be sneaky, though. She had spoken to Colin Creevey, who eagerly mentioned Hermione as one of my closest friends.
Naturally, she twisted this into a narrative implying that Hermione was "someone very important" to me, portraying us as more than friends.
Which was something that neither Hermione nor me really cared that much about.
Without Ron around to third-wheel us, we'd grown closer—not romantically, but our friendship had deepened significantly.
Hermione only commented on how desperate the Wizarding world seemed for entertainment, dismissing the article with a shake of her head.
She tried patching things up between Ron and me at first, but I wasn't interested. After the article, Ron's jealousy only worsened, and she gave up.
"Let him think what he wants," I said, shrugging. "I'm done trying to make him see reason."
Hermione looked at me for a long moment, as if weighing her words. "You've changed, Harry. Not just with Ron—you're... more confident, more focused."
I shrugged again, trying to downplay it. "I've had to grow up, that's all."
"Still," she said thoughtfully, "it suits you. You seem... better."
_________________________________________
Meanwhile, I spent more time in the Room of Requirement, delving deeper into magic. I even managed to invent a few spells of my own.
My work on body magic had also paid off. I was now stronger, fitter, and taller than before.
My improved appearance didn't escape Hermione's notice, and she had commented on it more than once.
"Have you been working out?" she asked one afternoon as we walked back from Herbology.
"Not exactly," I said, amused.
"Well, whatever you're doing, it's working," she said, giving me an approving once-over. "You've definitely changed. Even your hair looks better."
"Thanks, I think?"
She laughed. "It's a compliment, Harry. Just... don't let Fred and George catch wind of it. They'll never let you hear the end of it."
I had also practiced spells to better control a dragon, though I was still debating how to approach the First Task. It wasn't much of a threat to me anymore—if anything, the challenge was choosing how to handle it.
Flashy? Sneaky? Cunning? With my magic, I had too many options.
************************************
Check out my patreon for more advanced chapters of
Harry Potter The Archmage Awakens
Reality Bending in One Piece
patreon.com/Eternal97
**********************************
Check out my patreon for more advanced chapters of
Harry Potter The Archmage Awakens
Reality Bending in One Piece
patreon.com/Eternal97
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