A/N - I do not own Harry Potter, but I found my old Game Boy yesterday as well as Pokémon Emerald, it's still lit. End result was four hours straight down the drain with no regrets…yes sir, and I'll do it again too because Wallace ain't got shit on me. I was also at the gym yesterday too, like an actual gym. Leg day + lack of energy + a pretty decent pain tolerance = Fucking up my knee. Two totally unrelated problems but I feel the need to vent, since I'm currently home alone, you lot make a great audience.

Chapter 14 - Dead Last?

Sometimes, she thought that if she could only hold time still, all her worries would just bleed away.

He could never consciously attempt such a thing; it was beyond him.

You see, she was specific and he was not.

She was pragmatic while he was dynamic.

She craved philosophy.

He craved sophistry.

She couldn't get him out of her head.

He barely knew she existed.

She hated him for it.

And he probably would too.

At first glance, one could immediately tell they just weren't compatible. They were too different and the examples were there for all to see.

She believed in a greater being.

He attended charms hungover.

She spent her night reading, ignoring sounds from that forest.

He spent his night training, making sounds in that forest.

She was a scorching flame.

He was a frozen storm.

She thought she was going insane.

He was most definitely insane.

They were opposites.

She was Fleur Delacour.

He didn't exist.

Azure eyes shone brightly beneath a body of steaming hot water and its surface rippled as a portion of fluffy foam threatened to escape; this was bliss, and she needed it in her life every now and then. Although Madame Maxime thought otherwise, her headmistress often said she spent too long day-dreaming in here, but in Fleur's opinion she didn't spend long enough.

Vividly tinged vapour rolled constant and free from the large marble spa that was built into a stone floor, dozens of taps coated silver and gold adorned its edges pumping fresh fumes and bubbles to keep the water to perfection. t was blistering hot and exactly how she liked it. The clouds of steam shrouding the room left it like a sauna and nearly hid her from sight, but she was part veela, and as such had an affinity to all things hot.

Fire and triumph was in her blood, and Fleur liked to spend every moment she could enjoying both. She had awoken early today with a healthy anticipation for the wand weighing ceremony, unable to guide herself back to slumber she did what she always did, retreat to the comfort of their spa until she grew tired or the sun rose, whichever came first.

Fleur slowly sat up, her movement succeeding in an overflow this time but she didn't care, in here she could forget about everything, she could forget to care and she couldn't help but think there was something so beautiful about that. Having a space where she was free, a place she could get lost in thought and close her eyes and be whatever she wanted to be.

In here she could dream. The scent of roses sitting proudly in the corner brought fond thoughts of her sun-soaked garden at home, the skin of moisture coating their red pedals brought about an air of freshness which could only be compared to the purity left behind when the heavens chose to open and rain began to fall. It reminded her of when she was young, ignoring the amused shouts of her parents as she jumped in puddles and played in a storm before finding shelter in their small wooden shed.

Back then she loved the rain, but that was another thing her Veela heritage had eventually stripped away. Now she hated frigid weather and everything that came with it, she couldn't enjoy its freshness or the change it brought about, and now it was just damp and clammy and cold.

It wasn't in her dreams though, in her dreams the nostalgic peter-pater of rain buzzed through her head, it always started with small drops of moisture slowly growing and becoming intense until there was so much rain that it blurred into one long, whirring song. The wet in her hair allowed it to stick to her skin and face in an uncharacteristically wild fashion that used to make her so happy. The rain was mild and pleasant, she found herself longing for these little things once again.

The dream - no the memory - sent a shiver up her spine, goose bumps quickly followed.

You see, if it were a dream, she would never have to leave that feeling behind, but this wasn't a dream, this was real life and therefore it wasn't perfect; other things invaded her space, and something as simple as a whiff of milky coffee was the culprit today.

It stimulated her senses, practically begging Fleur to pour herself another. Somewhat disgruntled she let go, having long realised that you could never recapture a feeling once lost, you couldn't change the flow and you just had to accept where it took you.

Yesterday that had been a sudden urge to wander Hogwarts in the hopes of finding a particular person. Today, it was another cup of coffee.

You know what, maybe just she would pour herself another cup? She deserved it with everything going on lately.

Fleur's moment of triumph had come and gone like the bat of an eye and it was so much more than she ever expected it to be. The Great Hall had erupted when the goblet flared to life, it's blue flames sparked red and it had chosen her to be the champion from Beauxbatons, just like she knew it would. It hadn't come as a surprise, not for her, not for Madam Maxim, or any of her more realistic piers.

She had enjoyed the moment and made sure to take a hold of it, rising from her seat wearing her best smile and proudly striding across the Great Hall in a show of confidence. It was nice to be looked upon as Fleur Delacour, she was a Triwizard champion and for once the attention wasn't just because of her Veela blood.

Walking towards the famous Albus Dumbledore she made sure to take in the scenes around her, in this moment she was the epicentre to all those present and for some reason, right then and there, of all times, she couldn't help but wonder if the anomaly was one of them.

Why was she thinking about him? Why now? For that matter, why ever?

Just when she was beginning to question his existence, he had appeared; for two weeks he had seemingly evaporated into nothing, and yet there he was, sauntering towards his house table getting stares as he went and without a care in the world. Sticking to his nonchalant fashion he took the first seat that he came too, plunking himself between two older red-heads and striking up a conversation immediately.

The memory made her nostrils flare. He made it look so easy.

Who did he think he was? Her anomaly had spent a week obnoxiously knocking down the doors in her head, invading her privacy against her will and then here he was, out of nowhere the ghost comes to life, appearing out of thin air like he had been conjured for the sole intent just to taunt her.

Fleur hadn't been able to dream when the only thing she could think about was a four eyed brat with a death wish, and it made her hate him even more. He was a plague, but apparently an invisible one. After many thoughts she had decided that she should seek him out in order to gain an understanding of what was going on.

That was the only reason of course.

As the week went on she found herself venturing through the castle more and more, some small part of her hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of him here or there.

She hadn't. For two weeks she had attended breakfast, lunch and dinner religiously in the hopes of some sort of interaction. He had to eat at some point, she told herself, but apparently not because the days ticked by one after the other and the only thing she could do was sulk in the Beauxbatons spa.

It was infuriating, she couldn't understand how someone could just vanish. What was even more infuriating is that she couldn't understand why she cared.

This anomaly didn't notice her, so what? It was discomforting, in some ways she found it was nearly insulting, so just why did she find it so addicting.

Addicting was the only word Fleur could use to describe the unnatural act. All her life she wanted nothing more than to just be another face in the crowd, men stared at her because she was beautiful, woman stared out of jealously. Either way, they stared. He did not, and without knowing, she craved that irregularity.

So there she was, shaking the hand of Albus Dumbledore with her mind everywhere but at the matter at hand and it was running circuits. She couldn't help but take a glance at where he had been sitting and just like she had hoped, there he was, lazed back against the table looking at her, he had one-foot resting on the bench as he politely clapped.

She didn't know why, but this made her happy.

Then she focused in, glazed over eyes looked as if they were somewhere else entirely and sure enough, those emerald darts flickered around the hall, landing on many nameless faces as a teasing smirk grew on his face. Those mesmerising eyes of his never landed on her.

He was clapping which meant he noticed. His actions and her Soul Sight said otherwise.

So he knew all about her, but could ignore her so easily; Fleur didn't know why, but something about knowing that was just so brutal and she couldn't help but curse under her breath.

That was the last thought she would ever have on that troublesome boy. She had to focus now, no messing around. She had a Triwizard Tournament to win and getting distracted by meaningless fantasies was something to be left for her dreams and for that time alone. Deep and desperate desires were fine. They weren't when she was mixing them with reality and this was something she thought she had conquered long ago.

They couldn't be real, it wasn't possible, it was her head playing those evil tricks like mother had said and so she would kill them off and pay no mind to her irksome anomaly.

As fate would have it, it was at that moment the boy wandered into the chamber.

Fleur couldn't decide what was more of a shock, that he was number four, or the fact that a lightning bolt scar revealed itself on his forehead when he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Harry Potter or not, she couldn't care less and immediately questioned him.

His response?

A shake of his head. Standing a few foot apart, Harry Potter stuck to what he knew best and walked past her without even muttering a word.

The audacity, the arrogance, it made her want to snap him in two! In those two weeks, Fleur's simple interest and frustration had been bypassed and trampled making way for a rapidly approaching concern that she just couldn't shake. To her, Harry Potter was a problem, not that she would ever admit any of this, not to herself, definitely not to anyone else.

With a mug of fresh coffee propped happily in hand, Fleur's chest rose with another deep breath. Why was she thinking about this again?

Her deep breathing displaced droplets of sweat and water hanging loosely to her naked and flawless skin and so she was dreaming again, or reminiscing, she didn't know anymore. Either way she could stay here forever and listen to the perfect, monotonous crackle of the open fire, it brought about another state of lucidity, making her drift somewhere between reality and fiction and she lavished in it.

"You sure seem to be having fun?" A voice broke Fleur from her trance. She turned and glazed, lost eyes fluttered to life as she took on the form of Elise who had silently entered and was in the process closing the door behind her. "How long have you been here, everything okay?"

Fleur didn't reply immediately, instead preferring to watch as Elise stripped of her clothing, slowly dipped into another one of the empty tubs beside her and soon a chorus of deep, relaxed breaths filled the room. Fleur slouched deeper into the water and her eyes contently closed, "I'm fine, just a little anxious if anything. It all starts today, the tournament and the press. The world's going to know my name... and there's no going back."

Her words made the bubbly girl frown, something had been different about her since they arrived here. "My, my, so she's one of us after all, and here I thought Fleur Delacour didn't get nervous."

Fleur just looked at her seriously, "If you're not the least bit intimidated by the prospect of the Triwizard Tournament then you're just plain stupid, there's no two ways about it."

"What about Harry Potter?" Elise said with an illustrious smirk, "He looked particularly happy when I saw him earlier."

Not that name. Anyone but him.

Fleur didn't react, visibly that is. "Earlier? Where have you been?"

"The Great Hall," Elise responded dully, obviously feeling down at the lack of an outburst, "The remaining two champions were to be sorted, you'll never guess who your number two is?"

That got her attention, Fleur had to admit she was very interested to see who she would be trampling, not to the extent of leaving her paradise though. "Well?" She drawled after a few moments, "Who is it?"

Elise turned to face her, a mischievous grin in place. That was never good. "You're not going to like who the Goblet chose, but I'll spill the beans when… you tell me why you're so infatuated in Harry Potter."

"I am not infatuated."

Something about her voice must of been off and Elise just giggled.

It was so strange, a slightly hot feeling welled up in her checks and Fleur couldn't help but sick further into the water and out of sight. The feeling was embarrassment and she had never felt such a thing before, not since childhood anyway.

The duo sat in silence for a few moments until Fleur spoke up, rubbing one of her exposed arms she couldn't help but look at her feet. "Well... what about him?" She asked tentatively, already feeling her friends grin grow, "Not like that... I mean-" She sighed again, "What I'm trying to say is-"

"You're asking why he didn't look scared?" Elise cut in.

Fleur released a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"You don't understand how a kid like him isn't freaking out about the Triwizard Tournament?"

Her perfect face scrunched in on itself, "That's just it, he has to-"

"And you don't understand why you can't get him out of your head?"

Fleur threatened to submerge herself. "Not like that!"

"Oh, so you have been thinking about him then?"

"I didn't say that-"

Elise cut in again and Fleur sighed, "You just did. You can't get Harry Potter out of your head, and you can't understand why. I'm sure you're not the only teenage girl it's happened to, so just admit it."

As usual, when annoyed Fleur stayed silent.

As usual, when frustrated Elise puffed out her checks, "Look. Try to ignore my teasing and remember one thing, I know you better than even you do. You don't have to be embarrassed, I know you're definitely not crushing on him, in-fact I know you probably hate him; I've been hanging around you for the last two weeks and it doesn't take a genius to work out what's going on here."

Fleur took in her words in silence, continuing to look at thick bubbled foam in the place where her feet would be. "I can't figure out what's so different about him, and it's bothersome." Four times now she had been beneath his attention, and for the life of her she couldn't understand why. Why him, what made him different? Why was he special?

Elise had an idea, "Well he's Harry Potter, that's a start. He also somehow managed to beat Dumbledore's Age Line didn't he, which means he must be quite the little prodigy? You know, now that I think about it-" She cut herself off adopting a faraway look, "As mother dearest would put it, he is aesthetically pleasing to say the least, too."

"Elsie! You're unbelievable!" Fleur giggled but it died as quickly as it came, when she spoke again her voice was quiet and soft, "That's just the thing though, he didn't enter himself into the tournament. When he was arguing with the Professors I used Soul Sight on him, and he was telling the truth."

It was Elise's turn to be in disbelief, "Well... damn."

"Exactly."

"Didn't you say something?" She questioned somewhat confused, "Because from what I've picked up, the general consensus is that he's a cheating little brat."

No, Fleur hadn't said a thing, she had been angry, was still angry, at how easily the boy continued to dismiss her. After two weeks of searching the castle for him, two weeks in which he plagued her mind she had all but been daring him to do it again. He wouldn't, is what she had convinced herself.

Then he did, and Fleur hadn't taken it so well; he wouldn't be catching her off guard and leaving her benumbed yet again, she wouldn't let it happen.

"There blaming him for it?" Fleur spoke after some time, "I thought you said he looked happy?"

Having stayed silent, Elise wasn't at all surprised when Fleur finally responded with a question of her own, as she so often would tend to do. "By the looks of things, he doesn't seem the type to be bothered by what people think. He just looked tired if anything, and he was covered in cuts too which leaves me wondering just what he was up too. Weird little kid."

Fleur was competing against said, 'weird little kid,' and by the sound of things he was training, not that it particularly worried her. "Well, did you follow him?"

"Ehh, and why would I do that?" Was the slow and confused response.

Oh, that's right. Not everyone took to borderline stalking those that piqued their interest.

"He was probably training," Fleur insisted, managing to sound persuasive enough that Elise didn't press the matter, "You might have followed him so I have a better idea of what I'm going up against?"

Elsie just waved her off, "Please, you're selling yourself short. I know he's caught your interest and for all we know, he might well be a prodigy but still, he won't stand a chance in this Tournament. It's really quite cruel, and such a waste of talent too," She said with a wink, "The-Boy-Who-Lived, right? I would say the nickname won't be holding its merit very shortly. Either way, I wouldn't ignore him just encase."

'Oh, he does enough of that for the both of us.' She couldn't help but think, a tint of bitterness making its way to her features. In any case, she would be seeing a lot of him from now on, until he tragically perished that is. But until that glorious day she'd just have to get used to it.

The wand weighing ceremony would be starting in a few hours and the Beauxbatons champion wanted to ensure she was at least ten minutes early, the world was now watching and first impressions meant everything, etiquette insisted upon it and so Fleur would grant herself only another thirty minutes before forcing herself to leave this paradise and get ready.

Madam Maxim had all but ordered her to wear something charming and formal, whilst not coming off as over-the-top and with the top priority of all in that it remains practical.

Fleur turned her eyes back to the ceiling enjoying the silence that had once again settled over them, and then her mind unconsciously pondered the idea of when the anomaly would be arriving, or what sort of outfit he would wear, then she sighed. Her curiosity of Harry Potter was truly aggravating.

A few quiet, humourless chuckles escaped her. What made it all the worse is the fact the word obsession was probably more appropriate, but not even she would admit that to herself.

Not yet anyway.

Harry opened his eyes and sat up to reveal the hazy outline of the sun outside. "Bullocks, did I blackout? Goddammit." A loud drawn out yawn and he rubbed his eyes before slowly staggering towards the bathroom to wake himself up. In this unintelligible state Harry stood facing the mirror brushing his teeth when it suddenly came to him that he had a spell for this task, and that little realisation seemed to be the tipping point as an awful lot of memories started clunking into gear.

After the little scene with Katie he had gladly got clear with Hermione... and promptly headed to the library whilst munching on toast. To be fair, she had offered for a walk along the black lake but he wasn't feeling up to it, instead the two had talked all his problems out just like how he originally hoped and expected, the only difference is that Ron wasn't present.

He told Hermione everything, exactly what had happened after his name shot from the cup, everything from the shit show in the chamber to his argument with Ron, and then right up to the confrontation the poor girl had walked in on. To his immense relief, Hermione accepted his story and backed him fully without question.

Harry had said it once and he had no qualms repeating himself, with all her flaws, Hermione Granger was truly a gift.

So there he was, sitting in the library talking about the likelihood of his very premature death with his curly haired friend getting more and more panicked by the second. Without the slightest clue on how to prepare for the first task, Harry did the only thing he knew would somewhat calm her, and that was putting her to work. The duo had been planning a trip to the library for quite a while now, and carrying out research on Ace was long overdue.

Weather it had been successful or not, Harry didn't know.

The boredom of the library mixed with his lack of sleep and he had promptly proceeded to black out only to awake sometime later staring into the overjoyed face of Colin Creevey. No way could he deal with that twice in one day, so yeah, that hadn't gone down too well with his sleep deprived self, not one bit, and so Harry did the first thing he could think of which was jump ship and run.

All he wanted was to be left alone to sleep, just a short, little power nap to keep him ticking over for this Wand Weighing Ceremony... 'That's right, I have to be there for noon...and what time was it now?'

Spitting and rinsing out his mouth the thought had only just struck him when a clock appeared beside the sink, a quick glance resulted in Harry staring blankly at said clock before tiredly rubbing his eyes once again hoping that it would change. Nope, not today.

"Shit."

It was at that moment three things happened:

Harry realised his power nap had become a deep sleep and he was well over an hour late for the ceremony. His shared bedroom didn't have an ensuite in which he was currently using. And finally, the fact that this wasn't his bedroom.

Unless his bed was now queen sized and had a quilt cover of a pretty lady who just so happened to not be wearing any clothes…Harry somewhat doubted that. Whoops?

Letting his eyes linger on his quilt cover for longer than he cared to admit, a blank faced Harry eventually shrugged himself free. He was already late beyond repair so he figured there was no point in rushing.

Feeling as if he should be changed into something that he hadn't slept in, Harry was pleasantly surprised when he found clothes sitting at the foot of his bed. Weird, he could have sworn they hadn't been there before.

Looking in the mirror Harry inspected himself. He'd taken the decision to leave the black, white trimmed, robe open with a plain white shirt underneath and he thought he looked pretty damn good all things considered. The robes were different to what he was used to as instead of covering him completely they only made it to just below his waist, he liked this though because he could already tell they were so much more practical. The clothing in general was somewhere between that nice point of hugging his figure tightly, but still managing to be comfortable which suited him right down to the ground. Letting his necklace hang freely over his shirt was another change in his appearance, Harry reckoned there was no point in trying to keep it hush, not that he'd really been trying too, but everyone knew about Ace by now.

Top half complete, Harry thought it best he makes a start on the other because the majority wouldn't take too kindly to him walking around in the butt. Or they might, who could really say?

Squeezing into a pair of black trousers, Harry stuck his wand into his back pocket and pulled on a pair of tan coloured shoes. All in all, he looked a solid fifty percent muggle, if you could have looked past the fancy white embroilment on his collar and sleeves it would probably be more, but damn, was he doing muggles justice. That being said, Harry couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong, he ruffled his fresh case of bed hair making it even more chaotic but that didn't do the trick, a short inspection and then he rolled up his sleeves which sorted the nagging problem immediately, he always had preferred short sleeves.

It was at that point he realised a replica of his robes now sat where his clothes previously had, only this one was short sleeved.

"The hell?" Where had that just come from? He was certain they hadn't been their last time?

Eventually Harry just shrugged, did it really matter? They were his now and there was no way in hell he was going to the trouble of getting changed twice.

Now fully changed into what he could only presume as somebody else's clothing, Harry headed for the door only stopping for one last look at the quilt cover and promptly decided that he needed one like that too. Sometimes you don't realise what you're missing in life until you try it, that bedspread was one of those things.

Leaving the room, he was somewhat confused as to where he was, quickly spotting the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy he soon figured he was on the seventh floor. Wait, the seventh floor? The library was on the first floor though, so how exactly did he end up here?

Harry just shook his head, this was worse than trying to piece together that night he and Dobby played catch the poltergeist with peeves. God, that had been a terrible idea, when Peeves had chosen Professor Trelawney's private quarters as a hiding spot the ghost was sure he wouldn't get him, but Harry wasn't one to back down, nor did he take into account the negatives to most actions.

Yep, he'd seen a lot more than he bargained for that night, and not in a good way either and no amount of alcohol would wash than memory away, he'd already tried that.

Harry involuntarily shivered and decided that either way, Colin must really get on his nerves more than he thought.

Making his way to the classroom in which Hermione had told him about, Harry met a great deal of the student populace on the way there, a few unconcealed looks of scorn and distaste every now and then but the majority continued to ignore him. Harry made a point of remembering every face, call him a bitter, little bastard and he'd agree but when this storm passed and times where good he was so calling dibs and using this as guilt trip material.

And, of course, for the more pressing matter of determining who would be involved in his next prank and to what degree of extremity it should take.

Hmm, they really hadn't taken to the idea of him being champion, had they? He supposed the fact that Cedric looked the part helped. Exceptionally handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair and grey eyes, both he and Krum where getting all the love but that's because that was the popular thing to do. When Harry saw the same gaggle of fan girls who had been so keen to get Krum's autograph proudly showcasing their Cedric Diggory signed school bags even Harry cringed a little. That was just a tad bit far.

No worries, he reminded himself. Give it a month and it'll be him doing the signatures, not that he really wanted to for that matter. Harry Potter and the quiet year of revision was still playing in his mind.

As Harry arrived at the classroom he found the Head boy, Roger Davis, as well as the head girl and two years seven prefects, all of whom looked quite on edge if Harry had the care to notice.

Rodger's eyes fell on Harry and widened in relief, "There you are! I've had prefects searching every nook and cranny of this castle for you, checked the library, you're dormitory, even sent Thomson down to Hogsmeade when we caught wind of your rebellious ways. Just where the bloody hell have you been?"

Harry's response was a somewhat lame shrug of the shoulders, "I don't really know to be honest-" His eyes glazed over as he remembered the comfort of the bed... and the quilt, "-But it was really good."

The nonchalant response silenced them and four deadpanned him is disbelief. After a few seconds of nothing happening Harry was beginning to think he had broken Roger.

Taking that as his cue, he slipped by the group and found himself in a classroom seemingly filled wall to wall with witches and wizards all of whom we're speaking in different languages and Harry knew straight away they were reporters. Thankfully, they didn't know he was the missing champion.

Slipping, pushing and mashing his way through the human pileup Harry eventually reached a red roped barrier that had been set up to show where exactly the press where and where not allowed. If this wasn't enough to stop them, a rather burly looking man of African ethnic background stood tall and imposing. At least double his size and triple his weight, Harry got his attention by attempting to vault said barrier.

"No you don't," Grunted the man, plucking Harry out of the air like he would a snitch and placing him gently back to the ground on the correct side of the barrier. "Sorry kid. Staff, tournament officials and champions beyond this point only. At least until the signal's given and the press are let loose." Then his face scrunched and he looked at Harry in confusion, "How'd you get in here though?"

"The door," Harry responded with a smile before running his hands through is messy haired head and to reveal his scar, "Sorry I'm late by the way, at least I've got ID, right?"

"You're Harry Potter?" The large man cracked a smile when Harry nodded and so he stepped aside so that the boy could get past, although the press seemed to hear him too because what seemed like a thousand flashes followed. Thankfully, this lasted for the majority of a second, as soon as Harry passed the barrier all sound, smell and smoke that those damnable objects gave off instantly vanished, as did the reporters themselves.

Harry stood dumbly outside the barrier so that he could admire the secretion enchantment. That was actually really handy.

Turning around again, and without the barrier blocking his view, Harry now found himself in an empty room aside from one red haired girl propped up against the corner brooding... "Riley? What the hell are you doing here? And where is everyone?"

Initially confused at who was calling her name, Riley kicked off the wall and immediately sent a glare his way just as she usually did, "Well nice of you to finally turn up, Scarface." Ignoring his twitching eyes, she continued, "To answer your questions in the order asked: I'm here because I'm the other Durmstrang champion, idiot, and everyone got bored waiting on you because apparently you're a fucking expert at being an annoying little bitch. We're being called into that room one at a time and I'm all that's left."

"Wait what? You think I was hiding!" Was Harry's immediate reaction, completely processing that Riley was also a Triwizard champion and swiftly putting that bit of information straight into the 'no fucks given section.' First things first, his reputation was at stake, "Who said that so I can beat their ass?"

"Paul," The red head fired back. Seeing Harry's eyebrows quirk Riley physically pulled on her hair. "Oh my God, why are you such a defective moron? Paul?" She repeated, "The other Triwizard champion Paul? One of your opponents? It's not ringing any bells, is it? ...I bet you didn't even go to the ceremony this morning, did you?"

"Nope," Harry responded idly, his mind in other places. Harry decided then and there that he didn't like Paul. "...Fucking Paul. What sort of miserable prick calls their kid Paul?"

"What the hell are you muttering about?" Riley snapped, although a small amount of amusement flickered in her eyes. "So, why were you late then?"

Ah, that's right. Riley knew better than to think Harry was hunched in a corner freaking out somewhere. Or as, fucking Paul, had put it, hiding.

Scratching his check somewhat sheepishly, Harry had the decency to look a little embarrassed, "I sort of slept in, I guess?" Now that he thought about it, his sleep schedule had really taken a hit.

"You slept in?" Riley repeated incredulously before snorting. "Anyone else and I'd say that's one lame ass, half-hearted excuse, but with you I know for a fact it's true."

The Hogwarts champion just held up a single finger, "Excuse? I never give excuses, I give reasons, and their always the best." A few seconds passed until Harry adopted a thoughtful look and corrected himself, "Scratch that, second best. Seamus gives the best reasons."

Harry's admittance that he was bested by one of his piers got Riley's attention immediately, cocky little shit never admitted to anything. "Hit me, give me a standard Seamus reason for tardiness."

He didn't need to be told twice, "Seamus and his family arrived late to his kid sisters christening because the baby needed to get a spray tan."

"What the fuck," Riley grunted out, a smile coming on her face weather she liked it or not, "Seamus is the Irish one, right? I suppose that explains it."

"Also, I think his mum's part of the travelling community," Harry thought aloud, "They tend to be pretty eccentric about those sort of things."

"Travelling community?" Riley questioned with a confused blink, "Oh, you mean Gypsies?"

Harry paled, "Ehh...yeah, but technically that's not politically correct and you're not supposed to call them that."

Riley, being who she was, didn't care about such a trivial thing as offence and took a statement like that as something of a challenge. "Well fuck whoever decided that, fuck Gypsies... and fuck you too."

Very slowly, all Harry could do was drag his hand over his eyes and slowly shake his head, "Riley, what the hell is wrong with you?"

The girl just shrugged and leaned back against the wall obviously looking pleased with herself. "I don't know. Thanks for messing up the Triwizard Tournament and getting me in though, you know, the whole tri thing, as in three schools and three champions, but apparently you ignore rules all the time and now I'm able to compete. You would have got a real kick out of the look on Karkaroff's face, I know I did because it was priceless."

Harry rolled his eyes and plunked himself down beside her, "I don't know how many times I've had to explain this, I didn't enter my nam-"

"Don't care!" Riley cut in and shut up any protests with a punch to the arm. "Like all of us, you're in this tournament now weather you want to be or not. Say you did enter your name? Who the hell cares? I don't, and it's not like it matters at this point anyway."

At the explanation Harry stayed silent, but before he knew it he quickly found himself smiling at the simple red haired Durmstrang student. Riley was far from a diamond in the rough, if anything she was a jagged and dirty piece of coal just waiting to stain whatever she could, but the point was that she didn't try and hide it, she was sincere, and honest and for the most part she meant well which was good enough for him.

"By the way, I wasn't going to mention it, but what the fuck are you wearing?"

She was also a complete bitch.

Before he could respond the skidding of an old wooden door signalled an intruder and it was Ludo Bagman to poke his head through the door, "Right this way little lady, no sign of the ki-" It was at that point Bagman spotted Harry and bounded forwards, "There he is! Sorry Harry, didn't see you there but that's champion number four here too!" Looking quite excited he continued, "Go on in Riley, Madam Menounos has finished with Cedric and is ready to see you so I'll take the time to brief Harry, it would only be fair after all."

As Riley and Ludo conversed, Harry missed the slight smirk she was giving him as he was busy coming to the realisation that this was the same Ludo that had been in the chamber yesterday evening; he hadn't been particularly observant or caring to what was going on around him then.

Tall and powerfully built, Harry thought Ludo looked like someone had hit a school boy with an engorgement charm, then force-fed said school boy a three course meal of steroids for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Round blue eyes and blonde hair, the only redeeming factor in Harry's opinion was that his nose looked squashed in on itself, no doubt that had been done by a bludger and it helped make him look a little rougher.

It was then that it occurred to him that the plump Ludovic Bagman had forced himself into his old Quidditch robes, and although he no longer did them justice, Harry thought this was bloody brilliant. This was the Ludo that was the Head of the department of Magical Games and Sports, the very same Ludo known for a truly terrible gambling problem as well as a habit of getting drunk all too often. The very same man who rose through the ranks at a young age and made an extremely successful living off playing Quidditch for both club and country, and now he was spending his days earning a sizable wage for doing nothing, before wisely spending said wage on booze and... 'investments.'

Biting his lip, Harry had to stop himself from getting down on all fours and praising this God among men. That being said, he had just sat down and laziness was a curse he suffered from which meant he eventually found himself looking up at a cheerful Ludo Bagman. "Harry, my boy! Good to finally have you here and don't worry about being late, I know as well as anyone that we can only do so much when it comes to the other sex."

A look of confusion for just a moment until Harry saw Ludo's knowing, perverted grin. "Just what the hell did Riley tell you?"

"Oh, you know, this and that," Ludo responded with his grin only growing, "Nothing to be ashamed of Harry, if you're going to be late, best miss out for a reason worthwhile, and what's more worthwhile than spending time with a pretty lady."

So Riley told Ludo the reasoning for his tardiness was because he was quite literally, squeezing in, some last minute fun? What did he do to deserve this again?

Deciding pranks are so much better when he was the one doing them, a blank faced Harry played it cool and shook his head, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Remind me to kick her ass next time I see her." Then Harry's eyes wandered over to the door Riley just went through and he let out a sigh, "So Mr. Bagman, what kind of horrors await me?"

"Mr. Bagman?" Ludo all but shouted in joy, "Me and you are going to get on really well, brat." Then with a flick of his wrist a chair appeared out of thin air and Harry's eyes narrowed, if only slightly.

Ludo had just conjured a chair from thin air wandlessly which was a very skilled piece of magic. To put things in perspective, it was far beyond anything Harry himself could do. All anybody ever said was that Ludo was a fantastic beater, but that was impressive.

Taking a seat on his chair, Ludo noticed Harry's expression and gave a cheeky grin, "Impressive, am I right? You seem to think so but I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention that to anyone." Before Harry could say anything Bagman's face became unusually serious, something which didn't suit anything Harry had ever heard or seen of him. "Before we talk about what's happening today, you need to know what's going to be happening sooner than you might think."

"I do?" Harry questioned still somewhat taken back, but seeing that Ludo wasn't about to crack into his typical smile he sat up more intently, "Okay, I do. So what's up?"

"'What's up?' Geez kid, you've been reading books from the states haven't you? Speak the Queens English." After the little outburst the small frown reappeared on his face as he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully, "The first task is 'what's up,' and you'll be taking part in it... in just under forty-four hours."

Harry's eyes widened at what Bagman had just said, but as usual the cogs immediately turned and his head kicked him into gear, "Under forty-four hours, so nine o'clock on Monday morning, that's not giving us much time to prepare," Harry thought aloud, "And the other's know about this?" Harry questioned. If they did, Riley would surely have said something.

Ludo read him like a book, "Hmm, perceptive little runt. Don't worry about it, your competitors are being told one at a time by Madam Menounos and Barty so your little friend should be finding out right about now as well. You took it a lot better than I expected to be honest."

Harry glared lightly at Bagman, first the wandless magic, then the insults. Something didn't add up here. "Brat, kid, runt; I'm getting sick of the names old man. If I'm being told all I need to know in few moments, then why are you telling me now?"

Ludo rolled his eyes, "Get over it, kid. I'm telling you because that's not all you need to know, for this task you'll want all the help you can get. Forget that, you'll need all the help you can get, which is exactly what I'm going to do."

Undeterred Harry pushed right back, "I don't give a damn about cheating, but I'm not going to give myself an unfair advantage over the others just so I can look good... so forget about it Blubbersphere." Bagman rapped Harry on the back of the head for that, "Oi! I will literally jaw you with a right hook Ludo!"

"You don't get it, do you?" The old beater said, a little frustration emerging in his voice, "I'd bet every Quidditch title I ever won on the assurance that Karkaroff will be telling both his champions everything he knows as soon as this event's over, it's clear to anyone that he'll be backing Krum, but that doesn't mean he won't make use of the Denflare either. Maxim's no different, although she seems to be backing both her champions the two of them want nothing more than to win, they'll have told their champions everything they can, as soon as they can. They want to beat Dumbledore. They want to prove that he's human."

"Let them," Harry responded defiantly, "I couldn't care less about Dumbledore's perfect record."

The older wizard could only shake his head, obviously thinking this would have gone smoother than it had, "Fine then, I'll let you make a prat of yourself and be the only one standing there in shock come Monday morning. What I'm not going to do, is let you get away without a tip in the right direction."

"Did you do this for Cedric too?" Harry said before he could stop himself. He didn't like Bagman, he didn't dislike him either; if anything, Harry was dubious of accepting information from a guy who wasn't exactly known for his sparkling reputation. Hell, Bagman was a judge for this shit-show, for all he knew this could be a hidden task.

Bagman scoffed at Harry's words, "Look at you being noble, worried about the Triwizard Tournament of all things being fair. This competition has a history of cheating but that's not even what I'm giving you. You're getting a little advice weather you like it or not and that's it." When Harry was about to protest, Bagman held up two fingers in a rude gesture and smiled, "I'm going to tell you exactly what Karkaroff and Maxim will tell their champions so answer two questions Harry. What do you know about Adah Aitraaz, and how good are you without a wand?"

"What the hell is an Adah Aitraaz?" Harry said bluntly.

"Not an, brat. It's a land mass, an island to be more precise and you'll need to know as much as you can about it if you're hoping to make it through the first task," Ludo responded sounding somewhat grave, "As soon as you're done here go to the library and spent from now until midnight researching it. That's the best advice I can give you." When Harry nodded he again questioned, "And what of your wandless?"

Harry leant back again and released a frustrated sigh, he wasn't as good at wandless magic as he had hoped to be by this stage. "It's decent. I suppose I'm pretty average, nothing fancy like transfiguration or curses, but I can cast a charm or two, and I can summon and banish." For his age and after only just getting over his plateauing, Harry supposed it was actually quite stunning, he could do every bit of magic he already knew that only required power and not skill.

If Ludo was impressed, he didn't show it. "You're a lot better than I was expecting, but unlike the other schools' wandless magic isn't taught here at Hogwarts..." His voice trailed off as Bagman seemed to be thinking. "I'd say you're probably still at a disadvantage and you don't have much time, can you wandlessly cast a body shield charm because that would be incredibly helpful?"

"I can," Harry started, and then a frown came to his face, "But to be honest it's not great, I mean, it can block a hex or two if that's what you're asking?"

"A hex?" Bagman brought his face to his hands, "Kid, I'm only telling you this so you're on equal footing with your competitors... and so a fourteen-year-old doesn't lose his life while the world watches. Practice you're shield charm," He stressed, "When you're done researching Adah Aitraaz, that is. You need to know it like the back of your hand."

"I have forty-four hours," Harry growled, "It's always the same problem, there's never enough time for me to do what I need to do?"

Ludo stood from his chair and pulled Harry to his feet while he was at it, "Come on you, Madam Menounos should be ready for you by now, and If you want to start whining, whine about this. Your pal Diggory? By the time he was your age he could turn a whistle into a watch and have it sing you the time. And Delacour is as much a fairy princess as the grounds keeper, Hagrid. The red head's a Denflare, enough said, as for Krum, he's by no means a thinker but he's a born natural with a wand. Just look at him, physically he better's you all. Something which you're going to have to work on too."

"Screw you Ludo," Harry grumbled as he walked towards the door with a sour look on his face, "These whole 'Harry's the dead-last, you're going to die,' lectures are getting old real fast. The others are apparently the best their schools have to offer, so what? Once we're a few tasks in then you can play judge, until then there's not a single person in this competition that can beat me as far as I'm concerned."

Following in step behind him, Ludo couldn't help but shake his head as a smirk came to his face, "Quite the statement their brat, now go back it up?"

Close to an hour later Harry stepped into the final room looking thoroughly relieved to see the faces of his competitors as well as quite a few professors, event organisers and one master wandcrafter sitting patiently at a velvet covered desk. 'Jesus, that took longer than it should have.'

Right now, Harry could safely say he felt violated. You see, Madam Menounos was the American reporter chosen to conduct the official coverage on the Triwizard Tournament, thus it was her job to achieve and deliver the formal interviews, photographs and information from the champions directly to the public in a fair and truthful manner. No Rita Skeeter running her mouth and force-feeding controversial opinions down the populaces throat, that would be staying in the Daily Prophet, thank you very much, and definitely not making it onto the competitions weekly paper.

All in all, he could honestly say Megan was a lovely lady that did her job properly and well, maybe a little too well though. After an hour of multitasking between photoshoots, questions and getting every measurement taken, Harry was thankful this little opener was nearly over with. During their talk, Megan had phrased this as the calm before the storm, as in dealing with her for the Tournament would be a piss-take compared to the fire and brimstone approach of the many reporters waiting for them once this was over.

Paling ever so slightly at the thought, Harry took in the new scenery around him and realised this was yet another fairly small classroom. Most of the desks had been pushed into the corners leaving a large space in the middle where Ollivander sat talking to Dumbledore, Madam Maxim, Mr. Crouch and Ludo, who made sure to send a stupid wink his way. That guy's definitely bipolar, one second he's somewhat tolerable and the next Harry wanted nothing more to stick his foot up the old wizard's ass and twist.

Unsurprisingly, Viktor Krum and Cedric were standing in a corner talking. By the two identical, blank looks on their faces Harry was happy to see his theory wasn't taking long to come to fruition; it was good to see the Hufflepuff was wasting no time trying to get his doodle wet. Clara... or was it Claire - whatever her name was - stuck to her usual cold appearance, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a bored look on her face and for whatever reason she was sending glares again.

Seeing Durmstrangs darling angel sitting alone on one of the tables polishing her flute, Harry walked over and made his presence known, "Hey again Riley, good to see you're keeping up your antisocial ways and choosing to polish a flute over simple conversation. Speaking of which, why hasn't this thing started yet? We're all here and I promised to teach Neville how to not suck today, which is going to take maximum effort."

Barely listening, Riley didn't bother looking up as she continued to polish her flute. "Do you ever consider that you have the exact traits of a psychopathic sociopath? I'll happily take enjoying my own company over whatever messed up hand you were dealt because nobody's perfect Harry."

Geez, someone wasn't in a good mood. Ruffling his hair Harry chided, "I'd say I'm pretty damn close though."

Riley raised her head to give him a glare, "You're an occasional angst-ridden prick, as well as an insufferable asshole know-it-all that maintains a superiority and inferiority complex at the same time, and that's what I've gathered in a couple weeks."

"I'm hurt Riley," Harry said as he wiped away a non-existent tear, "They sound like pretty good character traits to me though?"

Riley let out a disbelieving sigh, "Well of course you would think that. So explain to me why I'm putting up with listening to your annoying voice again?"

"Because the little bundle of joy known as Riley Denflare was, might I add, once again, sitting on her own being her antisocial self," Clasping two hands behind his head Harry mocked, "Out of the love in my heart, Riley, I couldn't just idly walk by and do nothing."

The Durmstrang student barked out a laugh before scowling at him just as she always did, "One; never talk like that again because you pull off the voice of a prepubescent eight-year-old too well. Two; how the fuck does a messed up guy like you have a little love left in that cold heart to begin with?"

Harry scrunched his eyes and smiled, "Good point, but thanks I guess. Now that I know where it is I can finally kill it."

"That doesn't surprise me one bit." Riley grunted as she went back to polishing her flute.

Deciding that Riley wasn't in the mood for 'poke the bear' at the moment, Harry's eyes wandered through the room searching for his next victim to mock and generally just cause bother too. It was then that he noticed what could only be Beauxbatons second champion and Harry couldn't help but grit his teeth, 'Fucking Paul.'

Turns out his inner Gryffindor really didn't appreciate being more or less called a pussy.

A young man of average height, Paul had mid length spiky ash blond hair. This however wasn't his most noticeable feature, of all things it was his onyx coloured eyes that were so dark they were close to black and beneath these sat long pronounced tear-troughs that made him look older than what he actually was.

"I don't like him," Harry said abruptly. When Riley gave him yet another quizzical look he explained, "Frat boy Darth Vader over there that looks like he regrets every major life choice he ever made. The guy that looks like a jacked up Benjamin Button skull fucked an out of date rise pudding and proceeded to smear the gluey remnants over his sketchy seventy's space mask... which a fat kid then barfed on."

Imagining thoughts that made her gag, Riley's head slowly jerked over to him, "Oh my God," She muttered, "You just had to put that mental image out there, didn't you? ...Don't answer that, and who the fuck is Benjamin Button?"

Harry audibly gasped, "You don't know? The 1922 short story of a man who ages in reverse? That doesn't ring a bell? Well shit, the magical world's lets me down more and more every day, like how do you not know about that?"

"Eh, because I have a life and don't spend half my time trying to be some edged out teen that half asses old, overused quotes." Riley paused briefly and a small smirk came to her face, "I got the Star Wars one though, even I've heard of them."

Harry's eyes lit up and he beamed, "You have? Their pretty good right?"

"Nope."

The Hogwarts champion could only sigh, "I literally hate that I've befriended you."

"I'd be worried if you didn't," Was the swift response in Riley's usual annoyed tone, although the red head couldn't help but smile.

Harry on the other hand was just glad to be away from the photographers and Madam Menounos, he had already decided he wasn't cut out for this whole media thing. He could play politician all day and he wasn't above a little good natured, Dark Lord-esque, manipulation every now and then, but trying to play nice to the media as they asked nabbing and personal questions really made for a trying task.

"One, two three- ...Yep, that's a full house!" Came the booming voice of Bagman and Harry let out a curse, he already knew where this was going. "Before we get underway with the wand weighing can we have the six champions to the centre of the room to be prepared for the group photo."

Harry muttered a curse and from what he could tell his competitors looked about as pleased as he was upon hearing the news. "I would also ask," Madam Maxim started in her heavily accented voice, "That you line up in order of tallest to smallest so we know where to properly place you for the photo."

Another vulgarity escaped him as he made his way over. Great, it was one of those cover photo's that needed a certain amount of preparation and detail, sure enough, when Harry looked for the photographer he saw a tubby, little woman holding a large camera that would make Colin squeal, whist her other hand flailed around aimlessly limp when she barked out orders.

"Well isn't this just bloody great," Harry muttered, feeling a rant on its way, "Seven, high and mighty centuries this Triwizard bullshit has been going for, three champions, one from each school as always, then I came along and God said, 'you know what, fuck that guy.' I should really be expecting things like this from now on."

Having lined up in the order asked, Cedric sat in top spot, followed by Paul, Krum and then Harry. It was then that a voice beside him spoke up. "I thought you of all people would be used to the attention?"

Now normally Harry wouldn't have to look at someone to know who he was talking too, like everyone, he could pair a specific voice with a certain face and depending who was speaking, his response would vary. But in this self-centred, rambling state, Harry failed to notice such a trivial thing and so his natural and immediate response spewed forth before he could stop it. "I'd rather shit in my hands and clap."

It was at that point Harry turned around to see the Beauxbatons bitch, Chair Dela-something, looking at him like she'd just touched an old piece of gum stuck underneath a desk.

Harry gingerly smiled while he internally screamed. 'Shit, I don't need another one of these people against me! Krum looks like the sort of guy that would punch a child, Riley would, and Cedric won't do shit to help me.' He'd already decided Paul was going to be his sworn enemy until death so that left nameless over here, and he really didn't need another one wanting his head on a spike.

'Okay, time to make friends.' Placing his hands up placidly Harry had the decency to look somewhat sincere, "Oh shit- I mean crap. Sorry, I didn't see you there and I didn't know it was you asking the question so, once again, I apologise for being so rude."

Obviously taken back by his change of attitude, her harsh features softened, if only slightly, and Harry took that as his queue to press on. "I know it's probably a little late but I don't believe we've properly met yet, the names Harry, pleasure to meet you by the way." He finished in his signature fashion with two hands clasping behind his head, and Harry gave his best toothy grin as his two emerald darts unconsciously pierced their azure counterparts.

The Beauxbatons champions only reaction was a raised eyebrow, although she was taken back. Having all but ignored her so far, she hadn't banked on the anomaly actually replying. "Nice to meet you too," She muttered back in such a way that a small frown came to her face. "You don't look nervous?" She voiced after a short pause, sounding like more of a statement than a question.

Hands still clasped behind his head, Harry eyed the witch and smirked, "I'd say I am a little nervous, but I can just ignore it which I consider a good thing. I can tell you're nervous too by the way, everyone is, it's just they have to try and hide it."

She didn't seem to like being called out like that.

"You're fourteen," The girl coldly reminded him. "All of us here, we are the best of our schools and you, you are in over your head."

Talk about being blunt. "I'd say we can all be pretty dangerous," Harry muttered back still smiling, his inner politician emerging as the photographer and her team fussed around them. "Krum has his strengths, so does Riley and Cedric, and I'm sure you do as well. I wouldn't be writing off anyone just yet."

"We'll see." She responded calmly, a small confident smirk coming to her face.

Harry eyed the model again and couldn't help but think that was a little arrogant of her, which was rich coming from him. He at least tried to get people to like him before he resorted to being his asshole-self, apparently she didn't care. "What was your name again?" Harry shot out on impulse, "I'm sorry, but I don't even know who you are?"

Unbeknownst to Harry, of all the things he could possibly say to annoy her, that was most definitely the worst.

"You don't even know my name?" The girl all but growled. When Harry's smiling face waited for an answer she couldn't help but hiss it. "Fleur Delacour," She said very coldly. "You can read it off the Triwizard Cup when I win."

Fleur crossed her arms and looked away which told him that he had pretty much ended any chance of conversation, but that was how a quitter thought and Harry just rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that's not happening Flu."

"Fleur!" She immediately shot back, sending him a look somewhere between anger and disbelief.

"Uh huh." Harry nodded and let out an uninterested yawn, "Whatever you say Flu."

Triwizard Weekly!

Volume 1,

Sunday, September 25th 1994

By Megan Menounos

The highly anticipated first task of the Triwizard Tournament is now only one day away, and with what little time left until the action kicks off, the public are revelling in the chance to witness this magical spectacle which many thought had long since perished. Let it be known that the ardent blue flames of the Triwizard Cup are burning as brightly as ever before and with exactly two hundred and two years between the last controversial competition, it's only fitting that it returns the same way it left; with a bang!

(For more information regarding the Tournament and its history, turn to page 23)

Encase you've been living under a rock since the events of Friday evening, in a dramatic swing of fate, six blessed champions have been chosen instead of the usual three, so with an interview and a night's worth of research under my belt, it's my job to tell you everything I've been able to dig up.

Name - Viktor Krum

School - Durmstrang Institute

Wand - 10 1/4", Hornbeam, Dragon Heartstring, fairly ridged

Age - 18

Height - 5'8": Stocky

Ethnicity - Bulgarian

Hair colour -Black

Eye colour - Black

Krum is one of the most well-known Champions on our list, shooting to fame this summer as the stand out player of the Quidditch World Cup, Krum is certainly one to watch. With his strong build and his explosive power, it's hard to believe he's still only eighteen and will most definitely go far. A member of the Bulgarian National Team, only his most loyal of fans know that the incredible seeker is still a student and with his last year of education sure to be eventful, it's reported that Krum already has an offer from Bulgaria's top Quidditch team, and current holders of the intercontinental Quidditch Champions League, the Vratsa Vultures.

No doubt an imposing figure to go up against, Krum, as you would expect, is a born natural when it comes to flying and from what I gather is every bit as talented with a wand in his hand. With an aptitude for Dark-Arts, foes will struggle against Krum's explosive power as he can quickly overwhelm and outmanoeuvre whoever he comes up against. He has the stamina, the body, and the magical core of someone with a bright future, and when your first name means victory, it's very likely he'll be doing it justice.

BWE (Basic Warlock Evaluation) - 38/50

Name - Riley Denflare

School - Durmstrang Institute

Wand - 8 3/4", Cypress, Horned Serpent horn, inflexible

Age - 17

Height - 5'4": Petite

Ethnicity - British

Hair colour - Red

Eye colour - Brown

Riley Denflare, I would wager that it's been a while since you've heard that name. Thought to be the sole remnant from the once great Denflare family, it appears the legacy lives on as Riley carries all the traits that made them so famous in the past. Her fiery red hair is only outmatched by the personality to boot, and weather she likes it or not, she's sure to win over the hearts of many fans. Only just turned seventeen, Riley scrapes in by the skin of her teeth, only just qualifying for the age limit placed on the tournament.

As a Denflare, Riley excels in every aspect of magic you would expect her too, Dark Arts, fluid wand weaving and curses are her bread and butter but the real gem in young witch's arsenal is Transfiguration. The branch of magic regarded as more scientific than any other, it's safe to say Riley has a good head on her shoulders as she makes this systematic, exact art her very own and in a fashion that nearly seems easy. Enjoying the sub-branch human transfiguration, the most, this incredibly difficult art tells you just the sort of skill a witch like Riley possesses.

BWE (Basic Warlock Evaluation) - 36/50

Name - Fleur Isabelle Delacour

School - Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

Wand - 9 1/2", Rosewood, Veela hair, inflexible

Age - 17

Height - 5'6": Hourglass

Ethnicity - French

Hair colour - Silvery-blonde

Eye colour - Azure

Three quarters human with the rest being Veela, one look at Fleur Delacour and you can understand all the fuss she's generating. When it comes to the Triwizard Tournament supernatural beauty and a stunning figure are nothing to scoff at, however these are far from her best traits. Perfectly aware of her talents, Fleur is solemn and collected, she has maturity beyond her age and will approach any situation with an air of confidence to overcome it. With all her talent, Fleur's intellect, logic and skill let's her deal with nearly every situation.

Moving on to her abilities, Fleur can claim an expertise over nearly every branch of magic and so it's a bit of a mystery deducing just what she excels at. Being part Veela, it would be safe to assume that she has a strong affinity to fire and so you can expect any and all magic following that elemental nature to be incredibly potent. From what I gather, her wand work is second to none and she seems to have a particular aptitude at charms. All in all, it's safe to assume that this prodigal witch has a high level of skill at anything she puts her mind too.

BWE (Basic Warlock Evaluation) - 41/50

Name - Paul Magnus Labile

School - Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

Wand - 13 1/4", Holly, Nundu fang, supple

Age - 18

Height - 6'0": Average

Ethnicity - Dutch

Hair colour - Ash Blonde

Eye colour - Onyx

Head boy of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Paul Magnus Labile is a gifted and popular young man among his peers and is frequently praised as one of the finest to ever come from the Academy. A high flyer indeed, Paul possesses skill in the finer details of magic; a shrewd and cunning individual, he boasts a great knowledge and appreciation for many of the more overlooked topics such as wand lore, magical creatures, and magical history. Keeping with his refined nature, Paul takes a systematic approach to most aspects of magic, relying on skill and precision over guts and strength.

This quiet and insightful wizard shows off his skill by possessing quite a number of self-invented spells, charms and curses, all with the intent to catch opponents off guard and to gain advantage in combat. As stated previously, Paul's greatest asset is knowledge, however he is also proficient with wards, potions, healing spells and enchantments.

BWE (Basic Warlock Evaluation) - 36/50

Name - Cedric Diggory

School - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Wand - 12 1/4", Ash, Unicorn hair, springy

Age - 17

Height - 6'1": Well built

Ethnicity - British

Hair colour - Brown

Eye colour - Grey

Captain of his house Quidditch team and predicted to be next year's Head Boy, Cedric Diggory is the strong and silent type that has the noble drive of contently pushing himself to be better. Through hard work and graft Cedric doesn't let anything phase him, he possesses an exceptionally strong willpower that allows him to power on when others would give up, and for this reason alone he's a champion to be wary of.

A skilled flyer, Cedric's shines out amongst his peers particularly when it comes to Charms and Transfiguration. Showing great aptitude in both branches, Cedric is blessed with the rare mix of both power and skill, if the reports are anything to go by he has them in abundance. This along with his level head and driven attitude allows Cedric to outdo whatever challenge set upon him.

BWE (Basic Warlock Evaluation) - 37/50

Name - Harry Potter

School - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Wand - 11", Holly, Phoenix feather, supple

Age - 14

Height - 5'6": Slender

Ethnicity - British

Hair colour - Jet-black

Eye colour - Emerald

We all need no introduction to this one, The-Boy-Who-Lived, or Harry Potter, as he goes by, is the name of the final champion on our list and the youngest of the six competing. The only half-blood champion, Harry trails three years behind his competitors in terms of magical education, this along with his secretive 'muggle-like' upbringing and we could have a recipe for disaster on our hands. He's known this world for just over three years, now he's being exposed to some of the worst it has to offer and that's not even mentioning the fact that he's only fourteen years old. Many would say that Harry doesn't stand a chance, but how far out of touch is he really, if at all?

Calm and observant, Harry can think on his feet; being no stranger to a fight it wouldn't be a stretch to say that the young boy can, and will, respond to danger with maximum efficiency, after all, it isn't exactly new to him. A hopeful few are already predicting that we could have a dark horse on our hands, but truth be told they are in the minority, a very, very small minority. With little to no information to go on it should be noted that Harry is a Parseltongue, a trait he shares with a few rather notable figures in history. A talented flyer, Harry has been the seeker of his house Quidditch team since his very first year, proving to be quite the prodigy at the sport. The branch of magic that he excels in the most is the Dark-Arts, having proven himself capable of both defending against and using simple jinxes and curses. Above all, perhaps his most impressive ability is the fact that Harry can conjure a full corporeal Patronus which is proof that he holds quite a lot of talent. Despite this, we simply haven't been able to find any more information regarding the young wizard as he had yet to complete his O.W.L.S.

BWE (Basic Warlock Evaluation) - 20/50

For more news about our six champions, please turn to page 31 which houses the latest interviews, photographs and information that can only be found exclusively on Triwizard Weekly!

A/N - Bingo, bango, bongo. It's that time of year again and exams our thoroughly shafting me right now, but hey, I should be starting off Task One next chapter; Even gave a few teases.

This chapter featured more Fleur. We got introduced to Harry's arch nemesis, Paul, and like the whack job he is he's taken an instant disliking for the poor guy so you can be sure they'll be having many an off-screen battle.

Next chapter will be on its way as soon depending on how efficient I am at revising.

For a nearly 13k chapter and Megan's character bio's, drop me a line before you click back onto that YouTube tab... Or don't, it's not like I can make you.

Hope you enjoyed!