Chapter 4 – Weighing of the Wands

It was truly amusing for Harry to look back upon how his status as a Champion had come to affect his social life at Hogwarts.

At the Halloween feast, after the Champions had been given the introductory statements regarding the Triwizard Tournament and what was expected of them, Harry had gone straight back to his dormitory to talk to his godfather and unexpectedly his father too. He had given them the brief rundown of the meeting that had transpired. It wasn't long when he had to cut short his conversation because his dorm room was flooded with Gryffindors, boys and girls alike. And not all of them were even his year mates!

It was easy to see that the Head Girl was leading the procession, even though she was visibly disapproving the manner of celebrations. The whole crowd of Harry's fellow housemates were cheering and celebrating his selection, and by default Gryffindor's selection, in the way their House was famous for.

Loud, rowdy and in the wildest way possible!

Harry suspected the toilet seats he had received by an owl delivery were from Weasley twins; how did they even get the news this fast! Ron, of course!

From the next day onwards, Harry felt as if he had just taken off a permanent Disillusionment Charm and the entire student population had suddenly become aware of Harry's existence after his name had been sprouted by the Goblet of Fire. Everywhere Harry went, the younger students, specially, had taken to whispering behind his back and pointing at him. Some of them would now and then, pick up the courage to approach him and wish him luck for the tournament. It wasn't long until Harry grew tired of the school's attention and had to take help of his Invisibility Cloak between his classes. One thing that he could've never imagined, using the Cloak for!

Ronal Weasley however, was having the best time of his entire school life. As soon as he had recovered from the initial shock of Harry getting selected as the Champion, Ron had taken upon himself the responsibility of building Harry's 'public image' as the boy explained it to him.

In reality, it meant that Ron was now addressing groups of students about how well the redhead knew Harry and how close they both were. Ron's stories included getting almost expelled in their first year for going into the Forbidden Forest to defeating a giant in their fifth year. Harry had no idea how even the Ravenclaws were so eager to hear Ron's blatantly fanciful tales!

To be honest, Harry had expected the support from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses apart from his own house, once they had time to assess his selection as the school champion. Hufflepuffs did not care much about his abilities or skills but whether he deserved the title based on an assessment of his character, something Harry had consistently proving to them throughout these years. He was sure that all of them had only nice things to say about him and that was enough. Ravenclaw, on the other hand, would definitely realize that it was too late to make their choice; it had already been made by the Goblet of Fire. By logic, they could either choose to support their chosen Champion or not. And not willing to get on the bad side of the Gryffindors, which only meant time-consuming pranks (courtesy: the Weasleys' Joke Shop), even the Ravenclaws were bound to come around.

The Slytherins, however, were a different game altogether. Harry knew that they were very hopeful of getting their own Champion selected and they were the people who were most disappointed by his selection. Harry wasn't expecting them to show him any support, or even acknowledge his existence like the rest of the school populace. He was fully expecting the blank disapproval on all of the Slytherins' faces that they were most famous for. So when the Slytherins started wearing batches saying 'I Support Potter!' which switched for "For Hogwarts!' and giving him subtle nods of greeting; the Hogwarts Champion was truly surprised.

Even the teachers seemed to be reassessing him in their classes, as if trying to find out what they had missed that the Goblet of Fire had not. All except, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. Harry knew that they both were perfectly aware of his abilities and both had been kind enough not to call on him in their classes. Even the Headmaster had been staring at him during the meals whenever the man thought Harry was elsewhere occupied. Harry wasn't sure he was enjoying this sudden attention from his teachers.

However, Harry was participating in the Tournament because he wanted to test himself, the opinions of others had never mattered to him before and neither did it matter now.

Also, Harry didn't have to dwell upon the mystery of the Slytherins' allegiance for too long.

Almost a week after the announcement of champions, Harry was stalked by some of the Slytherins from his year while walking to his classes. It was an early morning Transfiguration class and Harry had not put on his Invisibility Cloak, not expecting any student encounters.

"Hey, look who it is! Our newest celebrity! Potter!" Blaise Zabini spat his name as he rounded on Harry, a gang of cohorts supporting him on all sides. Harry recognized each one of them: Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and of course Zabini!

Harry didn't react. He opted to silently observe what the Slytherins circling him at the moment, had to say.

"What did you do to the Goblet, Potter? Put a confounding spell on the Goblet? Because there's no way it would've picked you as the Hogwarts Champion and not Draco!" Zabini continued, when he got no response from Harry.

The twin grunts from Crabbe and Goyle along with the haughty snarl from Parkinson showed him that they agreed with Zabini's every word.

Harry then, glanced purposely at the badges they were all wearing, giving them an amused look.

"These are only because you have somehow managed to convince Draco into supporting you. There's no other reason why he would suddenly start insisting upon the school pride so much!" Parkinson glared at him, accusingly.

"Well, maybe that is because as a Head Boy, it is his duty to support his school in front of the entire magical community?" Harry shrugged, not showing any reaction to the threatening glares of Crabbe and Goyle. Parkinson however, looked confused at his reasoning, like she had never considered it this way before.

"Don't try and play with words here, Potter! You have stolen the rightful glory of our House and we are here to put you in your true place!" Zabini declared. He drew out his wand and looked over at Crabbe and Goyle to take the lead.

Harry mentally sighed. He had not wished to get into any squabbles outside the Tournament but then he couldn't really do much when the circumstances were forced upon him. It would not be wise to lie low in this moment and give these bullies any chance to harm him before the Tournament even started.

Harry did not need to curse Crabbe or Goyle in the end, as his Head of House chose that very moment to walk in on the scene.

"What is going on here? No duels, I suppose?" Professor McGonagell enquired, eyeing the raised wands on Harry, Zabini and Parkinson.

"No, Professor McGonagell! We were simply congratulating our dear school Champion and telling him how much we supported him." Zabini backtracked, sugarcoating his each word.

The professor's eyes narrowed. She did not believe Zabini's words.

Harry saw a chance here and decided to cash in on it.

"Yes, Professor! And in the expression of their support, they have pledged to lend me their inherited family books from each of their noble families. As the heirs to their name, they have every right to!" Harry supplied in, glancing at Zabini and daring him to contradict.

"Is that so? It looked to me as if four Slytherin students had cornered a student of my House in an attempt to attack him." Professor McGonagell asked, sounding threatening.

"Yes, Professor! We were only trying to help him in our own way!" Parkinson replied in a timid voice. Zabini nodded, and Crabbe and Goyle followed his lead.

"You do realize that according to the rules made by the Headmaster himself, all inter-house gifts need to be passed through the Heads of House of the receiver. I'll be waiting for your family grimoires; Messrs. Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle, and Miss Parkinson." Professor McGonagell warned the Slytherins. Harry couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. Pureblood families treasured their family grimoires and he knew the four of them would have to lie to their families to 'lend' him those books.

"Come along, now Potter! Your next class is right with me." The professor called to him and Harry was briefly annoyed that he couldn't see the defeated faces of his stalkers.

After that incident, Harry had been getting to his classes quite early, in an attempt to avoid as many students as he possibly could. He would have preferred to wear his invisibility cloak at all times, but then Harry couldn't risk it getting confiscated. Now, more than ever!

Harry had reached the potions class entirely an hour earlier than the scheduled time and so found the classroom empty. Except, it wasn't completely empty. The Head Boy was already here.

"Potter!" Draco Malfoy greeted him politely, looking up from his textbook when Harry took his seat.

"Malfoy!" Harry nodded back to him, equally politely.

"Congratulations for making the Champion, Potter! Even us Slytherins are counting on you for bringing the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts." Malfoy said with a smile, closing his textbook.

Harry looked for any sign of resentment, but didn't find any. Now, that was curious.

"Thank you for showing such confidence in me, Malfoy. I'll do my best, I assure you! I do hope you are not too disappointed that you missed being the Champion." Harry said, keeping a close eye on Malfoy's expressions.

To his surprise, the Head Boy started laughing. It looked like Harry's words had amused him. When he finally recovered, Malfoy told him the reason.

"I don't think there was any other person in the Great Hall that night, who was happier than me after your name was announced. I'm sorry but I never wanted to be the Champion." Malfoy explained.

Harry was about to reply but Malfoy cut him off.

"I know you won't believe me but it's true. Can't say the same for the rest of my friends though! Although I must admit, I was expecting Pritchard to be the Champion!" Malfoy mused.

"Don't worry. I believe you!" was all Harry replied.

And he did. He could now understand the real reason for the Head Boy's nervousness before the announcement. That burden of obligation was long gone, going by Malfoy's carefree laughter. The effort he had put into making these badges was also appreciable and could only come from a genuine sentiment. Harry noticed that Malfoy himself, was wearing one of those badges.

"You do?" Malfoy seemed surprised at his words.

Harry sighed internally. Now, he'd have to give him a reason. This was by far, the longest conversation that he'd had with the Malfoy heir.

"Yes, I do. I understand that the title of Champion comes with a number of responsibities and you probably have enough of them already on your plate!" Harry shrugged.

"That's true, I do! You are very perceptive for a Gryffindor, Potter! The Goblet must've seen some potential in you after all!" Malfoy decided, giving Harry an interested look over.

"Of course it did, the Goblet of Fire had that one sole responsibility. And I wonder why anyone with an ounce of intelligence would even doubt the competency of an ancient magical artifact! Oh of course, I see. The key word here was 'intelligence'!"

Hermione Pritchard had entered the classroom, and her voice was dripping with the disapproval that she reserved specifically for the Head Boy.

For once, Harry was actually relieved that her attention was on somebody else for a change. Because the Head Girl had started seeking him out to give him pointers for the upcoming Tournament. Harry would've been grateful if she wasn't so very persistent and involved in the task. Between his own father and godfather, Harry already had all the help that he was ever going to need.

Oh, and the grimoires from the Slytherins were proving to be an interesting and thoroughly enjoyable read. Not to mention the look on their faces every time they saw him. Harry was too careful to get caught their efforts of cornering him again.

"And exactly when I was contemplating that the Gryffindors could be tolerable, you come and quash those thoughts entirely, Prichard." Malfoy retorted back, his voice going back to its usual bored tone.

The Head students spent the rest of the time squabbling with each other and Harry quietly went back to his own book without drawing any more attention till the class started.

Professor Slughorn however, could not be distracted by anything else and kept mentioning his parents, specially his mum's achievements and how he was expecting greater things from him.

All in all, Harry did not particularly enjoy the new found attention amidst the growing stress of the Tournament. Mr. Padfoot and Prongs however, completely disagreed with him.

"Come on, Harry! Look at the possibilities! You have the whole school eating out of your hands right now! You can have them do anything for you!" His godfather had raved from the mirror, after Harry had told him of his sudden popularity.

"No thanks, godfather dear! The only reason they love me right now is because the Goblet of Fire has picked me to represent the school. Also, probably because of Ron's far-fetched tales of my ridiculous adventures!" Harry had replied sourly.

"The way I see it, it would serve them right if you took advantage of this, Harry!" his father had said, his eyes shining like an eager teenager. Sometimes Harry wondered whether these two ever got over their Marauding times. Maybe not.

"But I have the first Task to prepare for! I really don't have the time to prank people right now. Besides, I don't even know what I am supposed to be preparing for!" Harry sighed, his frustration getting the better of him.

"You know what you need? A break!" His godfather advised. "Take this Weasley friend of yours along for a real adventure. I know a real good shortcut to the Honeydukes!"

"The one through the statue of the humped witch?" Harry asked in amusement.

"You know, it's no fun when you know the shortcuts out of your school and still don't wanna use them!" Both his father and godfather had sighed in resignation.

The call for the Wand Weighing ceremony came right in the middle of Harry's Transfiguration class. Since he already knew enough about the topic at hand, Harry was mostly relieved to skip the class. He was daydreaming through most of it, anyway!

"The process of becoming an animagus is extremely difficult, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, and can result in permanent half-human, half-animal mutations, if performed incorrectly. I would not recommend even starting the initial procedure, unless you have a guide who knows what they are doing." Professor McGonagall answered in a stiff voice to the Hufflepuff student who had asked if 'it was okay for him to try and become an animagus'.

Harry could think of a hundred different ways an attempt at becoming an animagus could go wrong in the absence of a competent guide. He knew all about it first hand, since he himself was an animagus, an unregistered animagus to be exact. But, before he could lose himself in those fond memories of his training days, another student, a Ravenclaw, asked the professor another question and Harry found himself concentrating on the professor's answer.

"I became an animagi at seventeen, Miss Turpin. And that too under the capable guidance of-"

The transfiguration professor could not finish her sentence as a knock interrupted her. Every student's head turned towards a door, to look at a mousy fourth year Gryffindor who was standing there, rather embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Harry's mind had gone over to the Uagadou School of Magic, a school famous for animagus training. Harry had found out about it when his dad and godfather were looking for excuses to teach him how to become one at thirteen. That was the only time his mother had not appreciated his research.

"What is it this time, Mr. Creevey?" Professor McGonagall asked, not bothering to hide her irritation at being interrupted in the middle of her lecture. "Problem with the Giant Squid, again?" This time her comment earned a round of giggles from the classroom, leaving the boy even more flustered.

"Um Professor, the Headmaster wanted to me to give you this." The boy replied, showing her a parchment that Harry guessed must've contained a note.

"And couldn't it wait until the class was over?" She huffed disapprovingly, but went towards the messenger anyway.

"I don't think it could wait, professor. It's about the Champions, you see!" Creevy said, in a conspiratory tone while his eyes moved around the classroom looking for Harry no less, which made all of his classmates turn to Harry in turn. It was a good thing his blank mask was already in place, as soon as he had heard the word 'Champion'.

"Mr. Potter! You can gather your things and come here." Professor McGonagall called out.

Hiding his disappointment at having to miss a double Transfiguration lesson, Harry wasted no time in gathering his bag and fleeing to the door, away from the envious gazes of his classmates. The class was on Animagi, and Harry was one since he was almost fourteen, his father and Uncle Padfoot had seen to that, much to his mother's disapproval. It would have been interesting to know some of the theoretical details he had missed back then.

"Here. Have a nice day, Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall handed him the note, and walked back to her usual place. Even though the stern professor never showed it, Harry knew that he was one of her favorite students.

Creevey was still waiting outside the classroom, and Harry opted to ignore the younger boy, taking into account his star-struck expression. He opened the note handed over to him and read the short note written in a slant hand.

Mr. Harry Potter, the selected Champion of Hogwarts, is needed to report at the classroom no. 412 at 1300 hours for the wand-weighing ceremony.

Severus Snape

Headmaster,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Curt, and straight to the point, the note reflected the writer quite well. Harry looked up from the parchment to see that the fourth year Gryffindor was still standing with him, watching him intently.

"Thank you, Creevey. I can go from here." Harry said to the boy, hoping he would leave him now.

But the Gryffindor gave an excited squeak and it was explained in his next sentence. "You remembered my name!"

Harry mentally sighed, but gave the younger boy a small smile. "Of course, I do. You are in my house, aren't you? Now, you can go back to whatever you were doing before you got this note."

"Okay. Oh, I could take your bag to the Gryffindor Tower if you'd like."

Creevey was starting to sound like a house-elf to Harry now. And an annoying house-elf at that!

"There's no need for that, Creevey." Harry replied, and pretended to look at the time. "I think I should be going now or I'll be late." He said, hurrying away.

"Good luck." came Creevey's voice, and thankfully he did not follow Harry.

The designated classroom, when Harry reached there, he found was turned into a makeshift office. The usual desks were gone as was the blackboard. There was a large table at the end of the room, covered with an expensive velvet cloth, and three ornate chairs which Harry guessed, were supposed to be for the judges as two of the judges were already in place. Madame Moreau, looking as elegant as she could be and Lord Dashkov was his daunting self. There were three smaller tables containing the three participating school emblems, each paired with two chairs, one for the champion and the other for the Headmaster, judging by the two pairs that were already occupied.

There was another single chair, in the corner of the room by the window. Harry immediately recognized its occupant, Mr. Ollivander, the wand-maker from Diagon Alley. The very same old wizard from whom Harry had bought his wand, over six years ago. He still looked the same, with his wizened face and pale eyes, looking out the window.

Harry took his place at the Hogwarts table and wondered about his Headmaster's absence. As if on cue, Headmaster Snape walked inside, but he was not alone. The British Minister for Magic, Lord Lucius Malfoy was with him, carrying his trademark cane. Severus Snape took his place at the Hogwarts table, expressionless as usual but judging by his stiff posture, Harry was sure the man was not happy sitting at his side. The man really needed to let go of his childhood rivalry with his dad.

Harry was not the only one surprised when Minister Malfoy took the empty seat at the judges' table. Noticing the surprised expressions of his audience, the Minister volunteered the reason by himself.

"Mr. Markov, our third judge, is engaged in another important matter at the moment. I am sure I will be more than acceptable to you as a substitute." Lord Malfoy said, in a self-important tone. Harry couldn't help wondering why the Minister himself was filling in for the third judge. It was quite well known that Lord Malfoy was a proud man; was there a reason he would take the place of a man who was his subordinate?

Headmaster Snape cleared his throat at the announcement and spoke in his low yet clear voice.

"Now that the confusion about the judges is over, we should not waste any more time in starting the ceremony. Mr. Ollivander is a reputed wand-maker and he has graciously accepted to be our expert for this ceremony. This ceremony is intended by and large as a safety inspection of your most valuable tool in this Tournament, your wand. Now, our expert will be ensuring that your wands are in in working order. Over to you, Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes, of course, Headmaster. Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

The Beauxbatons Champion walked over to the expert's table gracefully and handed in her wand.

"Hmm…" he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "eight and a half inches… flexible… birch… and containing… dear me…"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Gabrielle. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

So Gabrielle Delacour was part veela, thought Harry, making a mental note.

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Delacour with her wand. "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Dimitri Krum got up and straightened, broad shouldered and walked confidently toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes. This guy wasn't so trusting, it seemed he disliked having his wand scrutinised.

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand maker, though the styling is never quite what I… however…"

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes… maple and a tail of unicorn?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather unusual combination than one usually sees… quite unyielding… nine and a quarter inches… Avis!"

The maple wand let off a blast hike a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

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

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. I remember all about your wand, of course! My own creation. How well I remember, Mr. Potter!"

Harry vividly remembered the time he had gone to Mr. Ollivander's shop to get his own wand. He could remember it as though it had happened only yesterday…

Six summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had excitedly entered Mr. Ollivander's shop with his mother to buy a wand. His father and godfather had gone ahead to look at some new broom in the Quiddich supplies shop.

Mr. Ollivander had sprouted out the properties of his mother's wand and asked if she was satisfied by its performance. He had taken Harry's measurements and then started handing him wands to try. Harry had waved what felt like every wand in the shop, after an hour his excitement had been replaced by dread until at last he had found the one that suited him—

-this one, the one which his fingers were currently gripping possessively, which was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix.

Mr. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand. "Curious," he had said, "curious," and not until his mother had 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 Lord Voldemort's, the very wizard who now controlled the entire magical Britain.

After insisting Ollivander take a magical oath, his mother had turned to Harry. "You must not share the secret of your wand with anyone, promise me Harry!" Harry had been very confused by his mother's strange request but he had complied anyway.

Now that his mother was dead, there were only two people left with that secret. They were both in the same room today.

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's, quite silently just as Harry had hoped. Eventually, however, he conjured a fountain of wine from it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

After Harry had gotten back to his seat, Lord Malfoy stood up. "Ladies and Gentlemen, now that the Wand Weighing ceremony is over, perhaps we can make time for a little press. The reputed journalist Rita Skeeter will be interviewing the Champions. There will be photographs too, of course." He added this part towards the Beauxbatons Champion and his neighbor Madame Moreau.

Headmaster Snape made a disagreeing sound by his side, and Harry was left confused as to whether he should anticipate the arrival of the reporter or be wary instead.

He chose the second option. Skeeter was infamous for her scandalizing stories after all.

"Now, if you will all be kind enough to move to the adjacent classroom, where you will find the official press correspondent and her team waiting for you. Thank you very much." Minister Malfoy ended his speech with a flourish.

Seeing as he had no other choice but to follow the other Champions and their Head of Schools to the next room, Harry too started to leave, only to be stopped by Lord Malfoy.

Or rather by Lord Malfoy's cane. Curbing his anger at this gesture which was obviously meant to his test his Gryffindor nature, Harry turned around with a polite smile on his face.

"Mr. Potter, a moment if you will." The blond politician called in a low voice. The only remaining occupants of the room were the Minister, the Headmaster and Harry himself.

Intrigued at what the man wanted to say, Harry stopped short and bowed politely to the Minister. "Minister Lord Malfoy."

"Ah, it's good to see that the next generation has managed to learn the proper courtesy. But then, you are the heir to an ancient and noble house, so it's most fitting that your father has taught you the proper ways." Lord Malfoy said and Harry guessed that the man was one of those old-school purist lords who firmly believed in the Old ways. But, Harry remained silent, curious to find out the real reason the Minister had kept him behind.

Headmaster Snape, however snorted at his friend's words. "I can hardly imagine James Potter teaching his son any manners, Lucius."

The Headmaster was right. His mother had taught him the etiquettes. Her, and the surly portraits of his godfather's ancestors at the Grimmauld's Place.

The Minister ignored his friend's comment and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now see here, young man. You have a huge responsibility on your shoulders, this time. Not only Hogwarts, but the entire country's honour is in your hands. I understand that you will no doubt, perform the best of your abilities."

Harry nodded politely, pretending to be listening intently to the Minister. Satisfied at his sincerity, the man continued.

"My son Draco, who as you must be aware is the Head Boy, has been telling me about you. This Tournament is quite a big affair, Mr. Potter. Our Lord Voldemort himself, has been personally involved with its organization. It is of utmost importance that Britain keeps up with the performances of the other countries."

The minister now leaned closer to Harry's ears and dropped his voice.

"Now, if you feel that you need any help, any at all, don't hesitate to ask. Your Headmaster here, may appear like an intimidating man but you'll find that he is actually quite knowledgeable."

Harry understood the real reason the British Minister was being so friendly with him. His son must've relayed his doubts about his school's champion. Since they couldn't change the champion at this stage, the minister had come to offer him help, or to help him cheat, just like the absentee judge Mr. Markov had said.

Harry looked over at his Headmaster's face, which was blank as usual but his eyes were watching him intently, waiting for his response.

Harry adjusted his glasses, aimed a smile at the Minister and replied, "Thank you, Minister and thank you, Headmaster, for your offer. For now, I don't seem to think of any particular thing that I require your help with. I will, however always keep your generous offer in mind."

Harry received a generous pat from Lord Malfoy for his response and he was grateful when the man finally removed himself from his proximity. "That's my boy. Now, I have a few parting words for you. Listen very carefully."

"Make sure that you revise your Magical Creatures well." And with a wink, the Minister strode off, with the Headmaster by his side.

With a jolt, Harry realized that he had just been handed a hint. Though, a redundant one at that. Thanks to Pritchard's intensive research on the past Tasks of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry knew the First Task had to be related to magical creatures. He just didn't know about the specifics. At least, he had a very clear idea who he would be dealing with in the next room.

After he had successfully tackled a politician, Harry geared himself up for the next challenge; the infamous journalist by the name of Rita Skeeter.