192 Chapter 192

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Wednesday. The fourth day of the championship. What does that mean? Everyone's attention, which was too much. Another training session, followed by breakfast and potions lessons. Before the class itself, there was a conflict between Potter and Malfoy, during which, oddly enough, only Crabbe and Goyle were hurt. Well, and our House points, safely removed by Snape. Remembering the story of Harry Potter, I expected the conflict to be caused by the badges that Draco praised in that tale, but there are none here. Not surprising, really - it would be strange if Malfoy praised me on these badges and belittled Potter.

In the middle of the lesson, a breathless Colin Creevey rushed into the class and asked Snape to release Potter and me so that we would follow him because we were called.

"Knight and Potter have another hour to work on the potion. They'll go upstairs after class."

"Sir, sir, Mr. Bagman is waiting for them," the guy said frightenedly. "All the champions have to go. I think they're going to be photographed."

Poor Potter became even more depressed, and I was not distracted from the potion.

"They could have arranged a photo session after class," I muttered loudly, adjusting the dosage of one of the poison ingredients."

"Mr. Knight is absolutely right."

"But sir..."

"All right. Let Potter leave the bag. I'll need him later."

"Please, sir. Harry needs to take the bag with him. All the champions are there-"

"Very well!" barked Snape. "Take your bag and get out of my sight! Mr. Knight," the much calmer professor looked at me.

"Go on, I'll finish," Hermione put her hand on my shoulder.

"Not to the detriment of your work."

"That won't do," Snape shook his head negatively. "If you take on something, do it well and to the end, or don't take on it at all."

"I can do it," Hermione nodded gravely.

"I hope so, Miss Granger. Mr. Knight? Are you still here?"

I quickly put my things in my bag and walked out after Potter, who had already climbed the stairs with Creevey. They could have waited. Quickly catching up with the guys, I went with them to an unfamiliar place. Eventually, Colin led us to the door to some sort of auditorium.

"Good luck," Creevey said goodbye and ran off, and we went inside.

It was a small auditorium, with most of the tables pushed to the end, leaving the middle free. Three tables were drawn together in front of a blackboard and covered with a velvet tablecloth. At this large combined table were five chairs, on one of which Ludo Bagman was sitting and talking to some extravagant blonde lady in a red robe, with a bunch of jewelry and a high curly hairdo. She was incredibly excessive. Overly jeweled glasses, overly tight dress under the robe, overly long manicures, overly bright lips. Who's that? I bet it's Rita Skeeter.

Krum stood quietly nearby, surveying everyone with a serious and stern face. Fleur was bored a little further away. She was the one I went to - it was better to stand next to a nice-looking girl than a stern, slouching guy or a scruffy little Potter.

"Miss Delacour," I nodded affably to the Frenchwoman and got a slight smile and a nod in return. But ignoring the others wasn't an option, so I held out my hand to Krum.

"Hello."

I got a nod and a firm handshake in return. It made me feel nostalgic. That's not how you say hello here. It was almost like being at home in a former life.

"There are our champions!" the Bagman cheerfully almost jumped up and down in his chair, beaming with his childish round face and his flattened nose, obviously from a collision with a bludger. He decided to give most of his attention to Harry, and thank goodness!

"Don't worry, Harry!" Bagman was quickly beside the bewildered Potter. "Don't worry! It's just a wand-checking ceremony. The members of the judging panel will be here soon."

"Wand check?"

"Yes, Harry! It is necessary to check in what condition they are, whether there are any breakdowns. It is your main competition tool. The specialist in this area is now at the top with the director. After the ceremony, you will be photographed. Meet Rita Skeeter." Bagman pointed to a woman in a red robe. I was right. "She's doing a small article about the tournament for the Daily Prophet."

"Not so small, Ludo," Rita corrected, staring at Potter. "A little interview? There is no one yet."

"Ummm..."

Rita quickly dragged Potter into an adjoining room and closed the door.

"Interesting," I said with a smirk to nowhere.

"What exactly?" Fleur immediately decided to talk, though Crum listened as well.

"There - the broom room. It's very cramped. A very compromising situation."

A sudden flash blinded me for a moment, and a chubby man looked out from behind a nearby camera, looking at Fleur slightly dazed. I didn't even notice any influence.

<It's just that you're ignoring the charm, and the 'boiled chicken' effect is weakened by the constant presence of the veela herself in the vicinity.">

"Are you driving men crazy again?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knight, but I don't know what you're talking about."

I still wonder how real this beautiful appearance of the Veela is. No, seriously! How is it even possible to be such an amazingly well-proportioned girl in every way? Yes, not a doll's ideal, there are minor flaws, but they only make her more alive.

"Life must be hard for you, Miss Delacour."