Chapter 03

"Get control of her, Mister Cuffe," he'd ordered the older portly man. "Or the House of Potter will be declaring an honour feud against you and your paper. And, yes, I will be calling in the full Alliance to join me."

The editor had immediately blanched before he quickly stammered out an apology and promised to ensure Skeeter would not write any more lies about him.

"I will be holding you to that, Mister Cuffe," he firmly stated right back. "Just one foot out of line and my second will immediately be sent to call on you."

"B-But, it would have been Skeeter who wrote―"

"And you who approved what she wrote for publication," Harry cut in. "As such, you are responsible for what slander is published. It cannot appear in the Daily Prophet without you signing-off on it."

Harry would prefer the woman wouldn't write any stories about him at all, but he was happy enough with what he'd been promised.

Knowing Skeeter had stood right behind her editor and had heard every word the man had said, pleased Harry. Cuffe had immediately taken his leave, spun about, grabbed Skeeter by her arm and dragged her off for a 'chat' under a privacy charm.

While you couldn't hear what he'd said to her, both their expressions told the story. Harry hoped Skeeter was now 'heeled'.

The representatives from Wizarding Media had also heard what he'd told the man and promised their articles about him would always be truthful, but maybe a touch fanciful.

"That's fine," he'd nodded back. "Outright lies, though, will see me and mine come after the pair of you with my wand drawn, fire in my eyes and revenge in my heart. Understood?"

They heard and understood.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

When he was the fourth to draw his dragon from the Acromantulan silk bag that idiot, Bagman, offered him, he mentally breathed a sigh of relief he was to be the final competitor to face the first task. It meant the three true competitors would not be held up by what he was going to do.

The other three champions all competed in their tasks, averaging between three and five minutes to complete them. And finally he was called into the arena by Bagman using a Sonorus charm.

"And here's our final champion, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Haaaarr-rryyyy Potterrrrr...!"

As the last one left in the tent, Harry had no one to wish him luck as he'd wished the other three competitors before him. "Right!" he muttered to himself.

"Dobby!" he softly called.

With a muted pop of elf apparation the little elf appeared next to him.

Quietly Dobby asked, "Yes, Master Harry, Sir?"

Harry was glad that, over the past year and a quarter, he'd managed to get the little elf to calm down somewhat. Dobby still clearly idolised him, but he was nowhere near as excitable about it as he once was.

"Everything set?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Master Harry," replied Dobby.

"Remember, when I snap my fingers, bring me my 'Bag of Destruction'. And do not let yourself be seen."

"Yes, Master Harry."

"Thank you," he replied. "I should call you in about thirty seconds."

"Yes, Master Harry." And Dobby popped away again.

Bracing himself up, Harry drew his wand and strode from the tent and into the arena.

As he stepped within he could already hear the grumbles and muttered booing coming from some of the audience. Even now they believed he'd somehow found a way to cheat and get the Goblet to spit his name out as a competitor.

To his right, at the other end of the arena, Harry could see the Hungarian Horntail dragon he'd drawn shackled and chained down near a pile of rocks that had a dragon's nest sitting atop.

On seeing him, the dragon let out a warning roar, but made no move to head towards him.

'Ready to be utterly embarrassed, you bastards?' Harry thought to himself with a smirk.

"Your time starts now, Mister Potter," called the enhanced voice of Bagman.

Harry immediately raised his own wand and cast his own Sonorus charm. "Thank you very much, Mister Bagman," he replied. "Now, I remind you all of the conditions of the tasks of the Tournament. You may not help or hinder a competitor. I doubt any of you are willing to help so that only leaves hinder.

"By hinder I mean the following: If you cast any charm or other spell on me, that is hindering. If you cast any charm or spell to interfere with what I'm doing, that is hindering. If you take any other form of action to interfere with what I am doing, that is hindering. I include silencing charms and masking charms of any sort to be hindering. If you hinder me I can, under the rules of the Tournament, call on the Goblet of Fire to strip you of your magic. And, if I determine you have hindered me - be very aware - I will call on the Goblet of Fire to do just that.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Up in the Judges' Box, though she was surprised by what Harry had just said, Madam Director Amelia Bones also had an eye on Dumbledore who sat one row closer and just off to her right at the Judges' table.

As soon as she saw the old man reach for and begin to draw his wand, she snap-drew her own and had the tip of it pressed into the back of the old man's neck in only a moment.

Dumbledore froze.

"Don't even think about it, Albus," she quietly but firmly stated.

Before he could even ask what she was doing she said, "Carefully, finish drawing your wand and hand it to me. Grip it by fingertips only by the middle of the shaft as you do so and keep it pointing down. If I see it pointing anywhere near me or Mister Potter, I'll stun you on the spot."

"Amelia?" he quietly asked.

"Do it!" she quietly snapped. "Or, I'll stun you anyway and take your wand."