Chapter 171: Pre-Competition Inspection
Harry let out a bitter laugh. From the moment Snape mentioned the test, he knew it would almost certainly fall to him. No matter how well his antidote worked—or didn't—what difference would it make?
Snape's gaze locked with Harry's in the dimly lit classroom, meeting a defiant glint in the boy's eyes.
The silence was interrupted by a knock at the dungeon door.
Standing in the doorway was a short boy who sidled into the room and made his way to Snape's desk.
"What is it?" Snape asked impatiently.
"Sir, I'm here to escort Hogwarts' champions to the second-floor antechamber for pre-tournament checks," the boy said politely in a low voice.
Snape glanced at Augustus, who was calmly working on his potion. For once, a rare smile touched the professor's lips. "Augustus, go with him."
Augustus nodded, tidied up his workspace, and packed his belongings before joining the boy.
The boy's eyes trailed eagerly after Augustus, and as soon as he was ready, the boy nervously thanked Snape and turned toward the door.
"Mr. Augustus, may we leave now?" he asked with a mixture of respect and excitement.
"You seem to have forgotten about Harry," Augustus said, gesturing toward Potter at his desk.
The boy flushed, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, Professor Snape—and Mr. Potter—I didn't remember."
Harry wanted nothing more than to vanish from the room and escape this miserable situation. The word "champion" might sound prestigious, but it felt like a mockery, a title he bore as a fraud.
Snape waved them off irritably. "Fine, fine. Potter, leave your things here—you can come back for your antidote test later."
"Sorry, sir—he has to bring his things," the boy interjected nervously, his voice rising. "It's required for all champions—"
"Very well!" Snape snapped. "Potter, grab your bag and get out of my sight!"
The three left the classroom.
"Mr. Augustus, I'm one of your biggest supporters. You're going to win the tournament, right?" the boy asked timidly as they walked.
Augustus smiled faintly. "Winning the Triwizard Cup won't be easy, but we'll all do our best. By the way, what's your name?"
"Sam Levins," the boy said excitedly.
Augustus nodded as they continued in silence. Harry remained quiet, his thoughts elsewhere. Soon, they arrived at their destination.
"Good luck," Sam said enthusiastically before waving and heading off. Augustus and Harry entered the room.
The space was a small classroom with most of its desks pushed to the back, leaving a large open area in the center. Three desks covered with velvet fabric stood at the front near the blackboard. Behind them, five chairs were arranged, one of which was occupied by Ludo Bagman, who was chatting with a witch in a magenta robe.
Viktor Krum stood brooding in a corner, as usual, speaking to no one. Fleur Delacour was intently studying a flower arrangement in front of her. Meanwhile, a portly man with a smoking black camera watched Fleur out of the corner of his eye.
When Bagman noticed Augustus and Harry entering, he stood up cheerfully and waved. "Ah, here they are—the remaining champions! Come in, come in... Nothing to worry about, just a little wand inspection ceremony. The other judges will be here shortly—"
"Wand inspection?" Augustus raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, we need to ensure your wands are in perfect condition," Bagman explained, smiling brightly. "After all, they'll be your primary tools throughout the tournament. Any malfunction could be disastrous."
He gestured toward the witch in magenta. "By the way, this is Rita Skeeter, a reporter for the Daily Prophet. She's here to cover the Triwizard Tournament."
Rita's eyes sparkled as they fixed on Augustus. Her smile was warm but calculating. "Ah, you must be Mr. Augustus Julius. Just as impressive as your father. I'm here to document the entire tournament, and, of course, your father—a major shareholder in the Daily Prophet—encouraged me to provide comprehensive coverage. Naturally, personal interviews will only proceed with your consent. I'll do my best not to disrupt the champions' lives."
Augustus's smile turned wry. His father, supposedly traveling the world, had somehow found the time to orchestrate a reporter's presence at Hogwarts.
Rita's attention shifted to Harry, who stood quietly to the side. Her expression lit up as though discovering a hidden treasure. "Ah, before we start, could I have a quick word with Harry? The youngest champion—you know, to add a bit of flair to the story."
Despite his reluctance, Harry was whisked away to a nearby broom closet for a private interview. Augustus gave a small nod, hoping this would boost Harry's public standing and improve his current situation.
"Mr. Augustus, the tournament is fast approaching. How are your preparations coming along? Our school has so many of your supporters now that Professor Karkaroff has had multiple fits over it. I'm caught in the middle—it's exhausting!" Krum feigned a weary expression, though the amusement in his eyes betrayed him.
Augustus chuckled. "It's mutual. You've gained quite the following here, too. I heard Ron Weasley from Gryffindor was ready to give up his bed and sleep on a camp cot just for a chance to host you. Balance is key."
Krum frowned slightly. "Weasley? The name doesn't ring a bell. Still, if you ever got a chance to visit our ship, I'm sure a quarter of the students would willingly move into the Forbidden Forest to make room for you."
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