Chapter 233: "Weighing of Wands"

As the days inched closer to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts buzzed with anticipation and intrigue. Amidst this charged atmosphere, Harry found himself at the center of an unexpected confrontation.

Draco Malfoy, in his misguided attempt to mock Charles, had created badges that read "Hadrian Potter: The Real Hogwarts Champion," which then changed to "Potter Stinks." The Slytherin fourth-year had managed to convince only his closest cronies to wear them, but it was enough to catch Harry's attention.

In his haste to sow discord and cause Charles some embarrassment, Malfoy had overlooked a crucial detail - Harry was also a Potter. The Lord Potter, in fact. Before the badges could spread further, Harry cornered Malfoy in a deserted corridor.

"Clever badges, Malfoy," Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I think they need a little adjustment." With a flick of his wand, the words "Malfoy Stinks" appeared across Draco's forehead in glowing green letters, as well as on the badge.

As Malfoy and his stooges fled in fear, frantically trying to remove the magical inscription, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

However, Draco Malfoy was not one to give up easily. Someone must have helped him understand his mistake, for he returned with a new batch of badges, this time reading "Charley is a Cheater" and "Charley Stinks." The absence of the Potter name was noticeable.

This new taunt riled up Charles, leading to several confrontations between the two fourth-years. Draco found himself on the receiving end of Moody's unique brand of discipline, while Charles faced Snape's wrath. These incidents provided entertainment for the whole school, a welcome distraction from the mounting tension of the approaching tournament.

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As the days passed, the champions were summoned for the traditional Wand Weighing ceremony. Harry arrived at the designated classroom to find Krum and Fleur already present, both looking visibly annoyed, their faces etched with irritation.

The reason for their expressions became immediately apparent as a flash of acid green blocked Harry's view of the room. Rita Skeeter, adorned in her signature lurid robes, approached Harry, her Quick-Quotes Quill dancing in anticipation.

"Ah, our third champion!" Rita cooed, her eyes gleaming behind her jeweled spectacles. "How about a quick interview? The public is dying to know more about the elusive Hadrian Potter!"

Harry's response was curt and firm. "I give no interviews, Ms. Skeeter. You should know this already."

Undeterred, Rita turned her attention to the other champions. Krum grunted noncommittally, his surly expression deepening, while Fleur turned away with a disdainful sniff, her silvery hair whipping around dramatically. Frustrated but persistent, Rita returned to Harry, her smile now strained.

"Come now, Mr. Potter. Surely you understand the importance of keeping your adoring public informed?"

As Rita continued to press, ignoring his clear dissatisfaction, Harry felt his patience wearing thin. With a subtle flex of his magical core, he allowed his power to seep into the air around them. The temperature seemed to drop, and the lights flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows across the room.

Rita's eyes widened, her smile faltering for the first time as she took an involuntary step back. Even Fleur and Krum were visibly shocked, their previous annoyance replaced by a mix of awe and apprehension. Ludo Bagman, who had been present for some time, also seemed unnerved. He had allowed Rita free rein, knowing the publicity would benefit the tournament, but now he realized that antagonizing the elder Potter might not be wise.

Harry leaned in, his voice low and laced with warning. "Ms. Skeeter, let me be clear. I know you're angry, but if any false or unsubstantiated news about me appears in the Prophet under your name, there will be consequences." His green eyes bored into hers as he added, "I'd hate to have to keep a beetle in a glass jar, if you catch my meaning."

Rita blanched, her Quick-Quotes Quill falling still for once. She didn't know how Harry had discovered her secret, but she understood the gravity of his threat. One letter from Harry could see her in Azkaban for being an unregistered Animagus.

The tense moment was broken by Charles's arrival, accompanied by an excited Colin Creevey, his camera flashing incessantly. Rita's face lit up at the sight of the younger Potter, her previous fright forgotten in the face of a more amenable target. "Ah, Charley! How about a little chat?" she purred, leading the bewildered boy towards a nearby broom cupboard.

As the door closed behind them, Harry shook his head, a mixture of amusement and resignation on his face. Some things, it seemed, were destined to happen regardless of the timeline.

Moments later, Dumbledore entered with Mr. Ollivander, his long silver beard gleaming in the candlelight, signaling the start of the ceremony. Charles was freed from Skeeter's clutches, looking slightly disheveled and dazed, as if he'd just emerged from a whirlwind.

Ollivander's eyes twinkled as he examined each wand in turn, his fingers moving with practiced precision. Fleur's wand, containing a Veela hair core, elicited a raised eyebrow. Krum's hornbeam and dragon heartstring wand earned an approving nod.

When it came to Harry's turn, Ollivander paused, a look of intrigue crossing his face. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Your wand... blackthorn and thunderbird tail feather, if I recall correctly. A most unusual combination and a special wand I crafted. You have taken good care of it."

Harry nodded, acutely aware of the curious glances from the others in the room, their eyes darting between him and his wand.

Ollivander continued, his voice filled with reverence, "Blackthorn, traditionally associated with warfare and overcoming adversity. And the thunderbird feather... a core of great power, capable of casting curses as easily as it can sense danger. A wand for a wizard of exceptional skill and destiny, I'd say."

As Ollivander handed the wand back, Harry could feel Dumbledore's piercing gaze upon him, those blue eyes seeming to x-ray him. He met the Headmaster's eyes steadily, unafraid and unyielding.

Next was Charles's turn. This time even Harry was curious. He had no idea what wand his brother had. Was it the phoenix feather one? But Harry did not think that was possible. The character of Charles and the way he was raised was completely different from Tom Riddle. And as Harry had expected, he was proven right shortly.

Ollivander held Charles's wand delicately, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ah, young Mr. Potter. Maple and unicorn hair, eleven inches, quite flexible. A wand of great potential, especially suited for charms work and transfiguration."

Charles nodded nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. Ollivander continued, his voice taking on a scholarly tone, "Maple wands are known to choose wizards of great ambition and travelers. The unicorn hair core provides consistency and loyalty. A fine wand for a young wizard still finding his path."

With a flourish, Ollivander conjured a stream of golden bubbles from Charles's wand before handing it back with an approving smile, the bubbles floating gently around the room.

The ceremony concluded with a photo session, during which Harry carefully positioned himself to avoid being front and center. He did not need more crazy fans. He had more than he could handle already.

With the wand weighing behind them, the reality of the impending first task loomed larger than ever. The champions were putting in last-minute efforts, their faces etched with determination and a hint of fear. Harry, however, felt a thrill of excitement coursing through him. The dragons were coming.