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33.71% HP: A Magical Journey [Complete] / Chapter 148: How A West Closes A Deal

Chương 148: How A West Closes A Deal

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The link is also in the synopsis.

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[The chapter is edited by Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

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Glad to have put Rita Skeeter in her place, Quinn walked back into the room. He glanced to his right to see the champions sitting in chairs near the door. Turning his eyes to the front, Quinn saw the five judges; Igor Karkaroff, Olympe Maxime, Bartemius Crouch Senior, Ludo Bagman, and Albus Dumbledore sitting on a velvet-covered table.

Glancing to his left, he noticed Rita Skeeter settle herself down in a corner. He 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. Her professionalism fascinated Quinn. It was impressive how quickly Skeeter bounced back and was back to normal. Just as he promised, Quinn didn't stop her from writing as it wasn't about him or his close ones.

He silently walked to another wall and stood close to it, choosing not to lean against it.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, from 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."

Quinn looked around, and with mild surprise, saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Quinn had met Ollivander once before— he was the wandmaker from whom Quinn had bought his own wand all those years ago in Diagon Alley.

'His presence sure is feeble,' thought Quinn. He overlooked the wandmaker when he entered the room.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm…" 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 scrutinized it.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood... containing... Dear me..."

"A lock of hair from the head of a Veela," provided Fleur. "One of my grandmothers."

'Part Veela. Bullshit,' thought Quinn.

There were no male Veelas in existence and as such a daughter born from a Veela was a Veela and not a part-Veela like in the original works. Like her mother and grandmother, Fleur Delacour was a full Veela and not some illogical quarter-Veela as had been written by the Duchess of Magic.

"Yes," said 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..."

Quinn turned his gaze to Fleur's silver hair, and the fact that her hair when she grew up could be used as a component of a magical focus fascinated him much.

'House-elf blood, Veela hair, Goblin heart, Dwarf bone,' listed Quinn in his mind, 'so many intelligent and humanoid races with a part of their body that can be used as a magical focus…'

He looked down at his hand and clenched it briefly before opening it to see the blood which had been pushed back return to his palm. Human blood had some magical properties but not enough to use as a magical focus. No part of the human body had enough magical characteristics; it made him wonder how his magic would have been if he was from a different race.

'If I was a Veela, could my hair be used as an internal focus? If I was from a race connected deeper to magic than a human... how would my magic have turned out,' he thought. He shook his head. He liked himself as a human, and there was no use in thinking about his race.

Ollivander ran his fingers along with 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 Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you are next."

Fleur sat back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm. Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a magnificent 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... Do you take care of it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

Harry, who was among the champions, looked down at his own wand. He could see finger marks all over it. He gathered a fistful of the robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he desisted.

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 Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation unless I'm mistaken? A fine wandmaker, 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 like a gun, and several small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," said Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Which leaves us... Mr. Potter."

Harry got to his feet, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see Quinn. He recalled the words the Ravenclaw had said to him... The fourth champion squared his shoulders, lifted his chin straight before confidently walking past Krum to Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. I remember it well."

Harry could remember it, too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday...

. . .

Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had entered Ollivander's shop with his parents and Ivy to buy a wand. Ollivander had taken his measurements and then started handing him wands to try. Harry had waved what felt like every wand in the shop until, at last, he had found the one that suited him— one that was made of holly, measured eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand.

"Curious," he had said, "curious," and not until Harry asked what was curious had Mr. Ollivander explained that the phoenix feather in Harry's wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Voldemort's.

His parents hadn't been happy to hear that particular piece of information. They had made Ollivander show Harry some more wands, but in the end, Harry had come out of the shop with the holly, phoenix feather wand.

. . .

Harry had been forbidden to share this piece of information with anybody. And he was okay with that order, as he was very fond of his wand, and as far as Harry was concerned, its relation to Voldemort's wand was something it couldn't be helped. However, Harry really hoped that Ollivander wasn't about to tell the room about it. Harry had a funny feeling that Rita Skeeter might just explode with excitement if he did.

Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may—"

"Now, now, Albus," interrupted Ollivander, "we have another student among us. How about I examine his wand first before you dismiss all of us?" Ollivander turned to his right, and with a smile in his pale eyes, he said, "Mr. West, please bring your wand to me. I will check it before I leave."

Everybody in the room looked at the lone non-champion student in the room. The eyes of Bartemius Crouch Senior and Ludo Bagman widened when they heard how Ollivander addressed the boy. They almost snapped their necks from the speed they turned their heads to look at the boy who was suddenly revealed to be from the West family.

Quinn acted as if he didn't notice the looks of the others. He shook his head towards the wandmaker with a smile. "As much as I would like my wand to get examined by you, Mr. Ollivander, unfortunately, I don't have my wand with me."

Dumbledore, who had gotten up from his chair, looked at Quinn in shock and surprise. "Mr. West... you don't have your wand with you?" The headmaster couldn't believe that Quinn —Quinn West in particular— didn't have his wand with him.

Quinn shifted his robes to reveal the left side of his trousers to show that the wand holster he usually magically merged with his clothes there was missing.

"Yes, Headmaster," chuckled Quinn at Dumbledore's surprise, "as strange it might seem, today, Professor McGonagall went to me just enough that I forgot my wand holster in my bookbag. I removed it for our potions' class... as, according to Professor Snape, it isn't a place for wand waving."

He turned to Ollivander and performed a short head-bow, "I will visit you in the summer, Mr. Ollivander; we can go over my wand then."

Quinn, of course, had thought of the possibility of his wand being asked for a friendly inspection. So he had purposely left his fake wand and holster in his book bag behind in his office.

"... I see," said Dumbledore slowly. "You may go back to your lessons now— or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as classes are about to end."

Feeling that he had diverted his wand situation well, Quinn took one step forward, 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 again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

Quinn stayed put and decided to stay still and wait for the event to end, but it turned out that was a mistake.

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 Quinn 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 into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were free to go.

Quinn stepped outside of the room, stretching his slightly tired legs from standing still for too long. He wanted to go to his office and resume his work, but there was one thing he wanted to accomplish; the reason he had not left after delivering Harry for the press release.

He eyed the blue-eyed, blond man with rosy skin whose once athletic build had "gone to seed." It was akin to a sack of potatoes now.

"Mr. Bagman," he called out, stepping near the ex-Quidditch athlete.

Ludovic "Ludo" Bagman turned, and his eyes widened in surprise when he came across Quinn standing behind him. The now ministry employee knew what the child represented, so even though he was tired from the lengthy session, he greeted him with a smile.

"Quinn, was it? What can I do for you?"

"Walk with me," said Quinn and, without waiting for a reply, he started walking.

Ludo blinked a couple times but fell into step with Quinn, already under the influence of Quinn's momentum and rhythm.

"Mr. Bagman, if I'm correct, you'll be part of the judging panel for the tournament, correct?"

"Ah, yes. Along with the Headmasters and Mr. Crouch."

"Hmm, and you will also be hosting said tasks, correct?"

"Er— yes."

"Be honest with me, Mr. Bagman," asked Quinn, "are you truly interested in hosting the tasks?"

"Eh? I don't understand," replied Bagman.

"The Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports shouldn't be here for the Triwizard tournament," said Quinn. Bagman expected a "no offense" from him, but it didn't come. "The tournament might sound like it comes under the jurisdiction of your department, but it doesn't. That made me wonder, what were you actually doing here? So I did some light investigation and found that you volunteered for the judging committee."

He glanced at Bagman as he said, "I found that very peculiar."

Bagman, who saw the look in Quinn's eyes, gulped, "Why… do you think so?"

"I mean, wouldn't it make anyone wonder why a Head of a Department that hasn't had a single big initiative other than the World Cup- is suddenly becoming wildly interested in the Triwizard tournament?" Quinn spoke as if telling a story. "But then everything cleared up when I found that you are in debt— nay, crushing debt from the goblins. It became so apparent why you were here."

Bagman almost tripped on his own feet when he heard Quinn. His debt had been a well-kept secret. Despite the Goblins looking for him everywhere, he had been able to keep things under a hush.

"You definitely put in some effort in getting this job, didn't you? If Mr. Crouch had been the one in charge, I presume things wouldn't have been easy for you."

A fact that not many people knew about Ludo Bagman was that he had given information about the Ministry to Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War. He had given information to the Death Eater Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood, and after the Death Eaters fell, he had been put on trial for treason.

The one who spearheaded the trial was none other than the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Senior. He had tried hard to put Bagman in Azkaban, but Ludo was cleared of all charges to Crouch's extreme annoyance. This was partly due to him being a famous Quidditch player. One witch within the jury stood up and congratulated Bagman for his rather impressive play in the previous Quidditch match, with the others cheering him. Ludo was never accused of his allegiance with Death Eaters again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Ludo, pulling a smile on his face, but couldn't hide the fact of how uncomfortable he was feeling right now.

"Of course, of course, I'm sure I'm just misinformed," said Quinn, nodding. "But the fact remains that you're in soul-crushing debt and you need a way to pay it back. To do so, you need money which you are going to get by illegally betting on the tournament and stacking the odds in your favour. You'll manipulate the outcome to the best of your… ability."

Quinn suddenly stopped and fixed his eyes on Ludo Bagman, causing the man to stare into the stone-grey orbs; the thought that he was talking to a kid had exited his head ever since the start of the conversation.

"Mr. Bagman, I'm sure you realize what my family represents. I, right here and now, within a few minutes can," he snapped his fingers for a galleon to appear between his thumb and index finger, "snap your debt out of existence like it was never there. It won't take me any effort to do so, and by the time you wake up tomorrow, you could have a letter from Gringotts reading that your debt has been cleared."

Bagman's heart was beating loudly in his chest. The debt had been weighing on his head and chest ever since the Goblins had cornered after the World Cup finals. They had stunned him and stripped him down until he was completely nude to get their money back. He had been so shocked to find himself naked and in between a Death Eater raid after he got up that he decided to solve the problem by joining the judging panel and helping the Hogwarts Champion win the tournament.

When he found that Harry Potter had been chosen as the fourth champion, he thought his luck couldn't be better. Despite his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived, the fourteen-year-old champion didn't inspire much confidence in the underground betting scene. So he decided that he would help Harry Potter win the tournament and pocket the huge returns from his bettings.

"I can solve your problems," said Quinn with a depthless smile, "all you have to do is to step inside after me."

He gracefully raised his hand and pointed it to his side.

Bagman's eyes followed Quinn's hand, and he saw a door. It was just like any other classroom doors in Hogwarts but with just one difference.

"What do I have to do?" asked Bagman.

Quinn smiled and opened the door, inviting Bagman and stepping inside after him.

The standard Hogwarts door was shut with an out-of-the-ordinary flat, black plaque hanging snug against the door pane. In golden letters, the plaque read:

「773H」

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Quinn West - MC - Really stepping up his game, isn't he?

Garrick Ollivander - Wandmaker - Thinks a lot about his work.

Ludovic Bagman - Under crushing debt - Stepped into the deal of a lifetime.

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Chương 149: Seeking Help, Signing Krum, Providing Help

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The portrait door to the Gryffindor common room flung open on its hinges, and from the opening entered Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, fourth champion. The fourteen-year-old boy was stark pale, white like a ghost as if he had seen the most horrifying scene of his life.

With a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead, he sat himself down in a corner, slumping in his seat, tapping his feet while looking at the floor with unblinking eyes.

Ever since he had become champion, he had been attracting a lot of eyes no matter where he went, and it was something that he didn't enjoy because people at Hogwarts had just gotten used to his reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived. Currently, though, he didn't care about the looks of others; he couldn't care less if someone glared or smiled at him.

He didn't know how long he sat in his seat, but Hermione and Ivy had returned from their daily library visit. The two girls saw him sitting in the corner, his eyes haunted.

"What happened to you?" asked Hermione upon reaching Harry's seat.

Upon not getting an answer, Ivy pushed Harry's shoulder to get his attention, and it seemed to work when Harry trembled as he looked up with a surprised look on his face.

"W- What?!"

"We asked what happened to you," said Ivy, "Wait... why are you looking like that?"

The two girls finally noticed the pale pallor of Harry's skin when he looked up at them, causing them to get worried.

He only had one word in reply:

"Dragons."

He recalled his trip with Hagrid.

. . .

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood. Roaring and snorting— torrents of fire shot into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground. A smooth scaled green one, who was writhing and stamping with all its might. A red one with an odd fringe of refined gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air. And finally, a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, attempted to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which... It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching schriek…

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Harry had seen each of the dragon keepers pull out their wand.

"Stupefy!" they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides—

Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking— then, very slowly, the dragon fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragons hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn made the trees behind him quake.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands.

A Common Welsh,

A Swedish Short-Snout,

A Chinese Fireball,

And… the Hungarian Horntail.

Four lethal, pissed-off dragons, breathing fire in anger of captivity.

He didn't know whether he was glad he'd seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if he'd seen the dragons for the first time on the task day, he would have passed out cold in front of the whole school… but maybe he would, anyway... Harry was going to be armed with his wand —which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood— against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike ridden, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it, with everyone watching.

How?

. . .

The girls looked at each other, not knowing what to do. The thought of a dragon was terrifying to them, and that was when they weren't going to face them in a battle that might end in maiming, severe mutilation, or death.

"Harry—" started Ivy, but Harry cut him off.

He stood up from his seat, and suddenly he had a look of determination in his eyes.

"I'm going to him for help," he said.

He was already enrolled as a champion; there was no going back. So the least he could do was take some steps to increase his survival.

"Him? Who do you mean?" asked Hermione.

Harry gave a brief side glance to Ivy, and the girl-twin tilted her head in confusion, but the very next second, her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"You mean him?"

Harry nodded. "He is the best choice, isn't he?"

"Well... he is... skilled," said Ivy; she could suddenly feel the phantom sensation of walls clutching around her. "But are you sure? This is big... he is going to ask for a lot."

"Mum can't help in the open. Dad isn't here, nor is Sirius here. Out of everybody, I think he is one good choice, isn't he?" said Harry, listing.

"Or we can just practice among ourselves," Hermione chimed in, catching up to the conversation.

Harry turned to the brunette and asked, "Do you know how to deal with a dragon?"

"Well— not really..." replied the smartest of the group.

"He will be able to help. Didn't you say that he's undefeated," pointed out Harry to his sister, "Also, if I remember correctly, he defeated Cedric; doesn't that make him the best person to go to. A person who defeated a champion could certainly help."

"If you say it like that..." The points made sense to her, but the thought of Harry incurring a heavy debt worried Ivy.

"I would like to survive this instead of worrying what he would ask of me."

Ivy still hesitated but conceded in the end, "All right, you can go to him for help."

"Good," nodded Harry while stepping forward.

"Where are you going?" asked Ivy.

"To him."

"Now?" said Hermione, looking at her watch; there wasn't much time for dinner.

"I would like to meet him as soon as possible," was Harry's reply as he made his way to the exit, prompting the two girls to follow after him.

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Quinn sat behind his desk, gazing at the people sitting in front of him.

"What do you two think?" he asked with a smile, "A fun and productive proposal to spend your time at Hogwarts? You're going to be here for a while, so why not make it unique, something to remember and tell in the future as a story."

Across him stood two people; one dressed in Durmstrang and the other in Beauxbatons.

Quinn turned to the Durmstrang student and smiled, "Mr. Krum, your time here will definitely be something we will remember. What do you think, some Quidditch, while you're stuck here, doesn't sound bad, does it?"

The grumpy and taciturn champion, who had been grouchy the entire time he had been in Hogwarts, who had been extra irritable when Kari, his classmate, had escorted him to this —office— to meet some kid. He thought that it was going to be another person asking him for his signature. But now, as he sat here in this seat listening to the kid —Quinn West— talking about a Quidditch tournament, Krum felt the happiest he had been ever since coming here.

"I will participate," he nodded. He was more excited to participate in this than he was to take part in the Triwizard tournament.

Quinn then turned to the other person, a boy, blonde, blue eyes, and asked the same question. "What about you, Mr. Dupont? Would you like to lead a Beauxbatons team?"

Gael Dupont was the first guy from Beauxbatons that Quinn had talked to. He was a friendly and affable seventh year student.

"I would be honoured to, Quinn," smiled the French wizard.

"Excellent!" smiled Quinn pushing a thin stack of papers each towards the two people. This would be an elaborate thing, and he needed ample paperwork to keep track of things.

"Please sign these at the crossed lines. This is some boilerplate stuff; you can read them if you want," notified Quinn, and it was true; he hadn't messed with any of the wording.

"Mr. Krum, any other professional contract I should be aware of? Something that wouldn't allow you to play Quidditch on your own?" he asked, knowing that, as Krum was a professional athlete, perhaps he could have some restrictions normal people didn't have.

"No," replied the Bulgarian, "I was contracted to the national team. The negotiations with the clubs are still ongoing. I'm still free to play anywhere I want to."

"Good, that saves me legal trouble."

The two new captains signed the contract for the interschool Quidditch tournament.

"Now, you don't have to worry about setting up teams right now," said Quinn, slipping the form into envelopes, "I will announce the tournament after the first task, which is on November 24. Thus, we are going to announce it on November 25. That day I will introduce the captains along with the rules. The official tournament will start on January 1, so you will have an entire month to set things up and get in some training."

He stood up from his seat, prompting the other two to do the same.

"It was nice meeting you two," he said, shaking their hands, "I will keep in touch. Please look forward to this tournament; it's going to be something special."

The two future captains exited the office feeling satisfied and excited about their future. Even Quinn was happy with how things were going. Things were running smoothly.

"Nevertheless... the tough part is yet to come," he said, groaning and stretching. He sighed. Setting up teams was easy; he just needed to choose captains and let them do all the work, "So much of the logistics is left."

As he walked to the red door in the glass wall, ready to get some magical work done, he heard a knock on his door. He turned back just in time to listen to the door-chime ring in a clear, soothing melody.

"Oh, my," he said in surprise and curiosity, "I wasn't expecting you three to come here today."

In front of him were the Potter twins and the smartest witch of her age. They were standing at his doorstep; one determined, one hesitant, and the last curiously looking around his office.

"Harry, Ivy, Ms. Granger. How may I help you out today?" Quinn asked as he moved away from the red door back to the barstool behind his desk. "Please, come in and have a seat."

He sat on his own seat and waited for the three to settle down. He judged them from their current looks and body language and saw that all of them were pretty nervous. Something he found interesting, as the girls hadn't been anxious during their last visit.

"Do you know about the first task?" asked Harry, deciding to be straight to the point.

"Yes," answered Quinn. "Why?"

"I just saw them near the forest," continued Harry, as Ivy and Hermione exchanged a look; as they were expecting, Quinn was aware of the first task, and from the looks of it, he knew about it before today.

"Ah," nodded Quinn with a smile, "Magnificent creatures, aren't they? They are wonders of magic. In my opinion, their connection to magic is something to behold... So what do you want from me?"

"I want to live," said the Boy-Who-Lived, "I don't want to die from getting burned to ashes by a dragon."

"And?"

Harry glanced at Ivy and Hermione before turning back to Quinn. "I want you to teach me how to survive the dragon."

Quinn stared at Harry for a second —a very long second— before replying. "Sure, I can do that."

The three clients blinked. They stared at Quinn, who looked like what he had said was no big deal.

"... You will?" asked Ivy, honestly expecting something more or… just something.

"Yeah, it's all right. I don't consider myself a good teacher, but I think you will handle it just fine."

"What will you charge?" asked the redhead. She had experience.

"The usual charges apply; in exchange for my services, you owe me a favor of equal importance," answered Quinn, interlinking his fingers over the desk.

"I accept," declared Harry without hesitation. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow," answered Quinn, "I will have a schedule sent over to you; build your day around that. I'm not going to adjust to yours; you're going to adapt to mine. Though I warn you, it is going to be tough. I'm not a great teacher because I don't have any patience for those who don't work hard. If the problem is me, I will change, but if you aren't going to put in the work, then you're not going to like me much for the next two weeks."

Quinn had two students —if he could call them that— Eddie and Luna.

Eddie worked quite well with Quinn because his best friend worked hard and hated to lose. Eddie's personality made sure that he kept on working hard, and thus, under Quinn's training, he had been able to get fit quite quickly.

On the other hand, Luna wasn't as hard-working as Eddie, but because Quinn had tailormade the learning method just for her, Luna was able to maintain consistent progress. As long as he was able to keep Luna interested, she would work and show good progress.

However, unlike Luna, Quinn didn't have the time to tailor a regime to Harry. He didn't know how Harry learned or how quickly he learned, and with only a fortnight to the first task, Quinn didn't have time to build Harry an optimal learning path.

"Can we learn too?" asked Hermione. The opportunity to learn from Quinn interested her a lot.

"Hmm," Quinn gave it a thought before nodding, "As long as you don't cause a delay in Harry's progress, you and Ivy, if she desires, can watch. But no one else."

After setting up more terms, the three left, leaving Quinn behind in his office.

"Another year, another request," he said.

Ever since the first time Ivy Potter had entered his office along with Hermione Granger, he had provided the members of the Golden Squad the best help and solution he could provide. No matter what request they put in front of him, he offered a great solution to them. Sure, he asked them for something in return, but it was always just a token to make it seem that he wouldn't give them help for free.

The only favour he had cashed in was from their break-in.

He wasn't dense or ignorant; every time Ivy Potter had entered this office, she exited with some form of information. He knew what he was doing when he provided them with the knowledge and how it helped them. As long as anyone from Golden Squad came to the A.I.D. office and him, Quinn was going to help them out.

With their identity and fate, Quinn didn't mind helping them out. As long as it helped them along with Voldemort's death as the goal, or simply the progression of the plot, Quinn was more than happy to be of help. If Ron Weasley came into his office and read a request from a slip of parchment one day, Quinn would help him out as long as it didn't put him at a disadvantage.

"It's good they're cautious of me," muttered Quinn, "it will keep their requests in check."

He smiled, stood up, and walked to his workshop, ready to start his magical research.

Quinn West was a busy wizard, after all.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

[

A/N:

Hullo people,

Now, I've been seeing some comments saying that the chapters are shorter.

It turns out that the statements are in fact true.

Hear me out,

I made a mistake and that was to undersell my word count.

I generally publicized that my chapters are 3K words long because it's easy to write and 3K sounds a good rounded number, but the truth is that before my little mid-term break, I've been pumping out chapters which were closer to 3.5K than 3k.

The recent few chapters have truly been 3K words chapters and that might be the reason they seem short in comparison.

Don't get me wrong, I've always aimed for 3K word chapters, but almost every time I write a chapter, it seems that whenever I reach that 3K line, my brain decides to get productive and I end up with chapters that are over 3K.

That was my analysis.

Thank you for reading,

FictionOnlyReader.

]

.

Quinn West - MC - This is seriously going to be a hectic year.

Harry Potter - Fourth champion - The Boy-Who-Lived wants to continue to live.

Victor Krum - Durmstrang Champion - He didn't enter the tournament entirely of his own will, did he.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!


SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO
FictionOnlyReader FictionOnlyReader

Just like always,

Review, comment, add to the library, and share this fic.

Thx

Link To Discord

https://discord.gg/w5dJ82SfMr

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