The Power He Knows Not Chapter 3. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nothing.

“Do you know how long they’ll take?”

Harry shook his head. He had an inexplicable feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, a premonition that walking through the door would end poorly for him. But he had no choice in the matter, as he had been repeatedly told by everyone from Professor Dumbledore to Madame Bones.

“It’ll be alright. They’re probably just checking your wand for signs of tampering and to make sure it’s working perfectly. Shouldn’t take too long,” Susan whispered, leaning up to peck his cheek. “If you finish early, I’ll be in the library working on that stupid Potions essay. If it takes too long, I’ll go to the Great Hall with Hermione for dinner and you can join us, alright?” Susan gave his hand a gentle squeeze, leaning up to kiss his cheek again before she left.

“Okay,” Harry murmured, staying in place until he saw her round the corner and disappear from sight. He took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and entered. The classroom was completely bare, with all of the desks and cupboards having been removed. The only exception was three tables arranged end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a bright green cloth.

He was the last champion to arrive. Viktor was standing by the small window all alone, moodily staring out at the lake and ignoring everyone else in the room. Cedric and Fleur were in another corner having a conversation, and from the few snippets Harry could overhear, Fleur seemed to be boasting about her sister’s skill in flying.

Harry turned back to the chairs arranged behind the desks, groaning internally at the sight of Ludo Bagman sitting in one, talking to a blonde witch wearing the ugliest and most garish magenta robes he had ever laid his eyes on. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he had seen her before. The other chairs were still empty. A thickset man carrying a camera stood behind the unknown witch, shooting furtive glances in Fleur’s direction.

Bagman lunged out of his chair the minute he spotted Harry, scrambling around the tables to greet him. Harry suspected that if his physique had allowed him to, he’d have jumped over the table.

Why is he so obsessed with me?

“Harry! Our prodigal champion arrives! Well, come on in Harry, don’t be shy!” He boomed, his belly jiggling slightly as he spread his arms in welcome. “No need to be worried, it’s only the Wand Weighing Ceremony. We are just waiting for the rest of the judges and the expert to arrive.”

“What… What exactly is Wand Weighing?”

“Oh, don’t be nervous!” Bagman waved his hand dismissively. “Your wand is going to be the most important tool in the tasks ahead, well, other than your wit of course.” Bagman paused to shoot him a completely unnecessary wink. “The expert is just going to check your wands to make sure they’re fully functional and have no defects. Then we have a little photoshoot, and that’s it, and maybe a small interview…” He turned to look at the blonde witch, giving her a smile. “That’s Rita Skeeter. She’s doing a small piece on the tournament and its champions for the Daily Prophet.”

Skeeter. Skeeter. Where had he heard the name before?

Right!

Susan had mentioned her arrival. And he had noticed the witch staring at them in the Great Hall that morning.

“Oh, Ludo,” Rita said, her tone polite but reproachful. “It isn’t going to be that small. I mean… the return of the Triwizard Tournament?! Four champions for the first time in history? It’s the story of the year.” Although she was talking to Bagman, her eyes remained fixed on him.

The woman left a bad taste in his mouth, even though he had no good reason to dislike her.

“Do you mind if I have a quick chat with Harry before the ceremony, Ludo?” she asked, eyeing Harry like he was a fresh piece of meat. “After all, he is the Fourth Champion. The Youngest Champion. The rebel. It will add a bit of spice to the article.”

“Absolutely!” Bagman replied before Harry could even open his mouth to object.

“Lovely. See you in a bit, Ludo. I can’t wait to hear all about those… Firebolt knockoffs.” She rolled her eyes when Bagman turned away from her. Before Harry could process what was going on, she grabbed his upper arm and was dragging him out of the classroom with surprising strength. He winced, her long nails digging into his skin with enough force to leave bruises. “Interviews are best held in private, don’t you think?” she asked, hauling him into the broom cupboard closest to the classroom. “A little tight, but it should be alright.”

She sat down on a box, opened her handbag, and pulled out a pad of parchment and a long acid-green quill. “Well, Harry? It will be really uncomfortable for you to give the entire interview standing,” she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and pointed at the upturned bucket in front of her.

“Right,” Harry mumbled, slightly unnerved by her predatory gaze.

The pad and the quill floated in the air next to her, awaiting her command.

“Uh-”

“Oh, don’t mind that. It’s my Quick Notes Quill. They take notes on their own, and have an in-built source of ink! It makes Interviews so much more comfortable,” Rita explained, following his gaze and correctly surmising he was concerned about the unfamiliar quill.

Well, one of those would make writing exams a breeze.

He reluctantly sat down on the bucket, continuing to stare at the parchment and quill in an effort to avoid looking at the reporter.

“Right. Testing. Testing. Begin.” He watched as the quill began to scribble the words at her command.

“Don’t worry about the quill, Harry. It’s just taking notes. I will go through those notes and write the final article. This is a safe space.” She waved her arms dramatically.

“Okay,” Harry said, turning to Skeeter with a sigh. He was trapped, and the only way he could see out of the situation was to give the woman the interview she wanted so badly.

“Well, let’s start with a simple question, shall we, Harry? Why did you enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

“I didn’t,” Harry said flatly. He was tired of repeating the same assertion a million times. Hopefully, now that they didn’t have to hide their relationship anymore, Susan could serve as his alibi. “I was with Susan… Susan Bones that night. She can vouch that I was nowhere near the Goblet on the night in question.”

“Interesting.” Rita glanced at the furiously scribbling quill to make sure it was getting everything. “For the record, Susan Bones is Amelia Bones’ niece and heir. The same Amelia Bones who is a member of Wizengamot, the Matriarch of the Bones family, and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You are dating her, aren’t you Harry?”

“I am, yes.” He had no idea what that had to do with the tournament, but she (and the rest of the school) had seen them kiss, so it wasn’t like there was any point denying it.

“And what about a-” She tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hermione Granger? A very bright muggle-born witch in your class. I hear the two of you are very close.”

“She is my best friend.”

“My sources say the two of you are inseparable.”

“As I said, she’s my best friend,” Harry growled, unable to help his irritation. Her questions had nothing to do with the tournament.

Why is she rooting around in my personal life?

“And how do they feel about your participation in the tournament? Are they worried? Upset? Maybe they’re proud? Perhaps they wanted you to take part?”

“They?”

“Hermione and Susan.”

Harry glared at her. What was she insinuating? “They’re both extremely worried, and they share my opinion that the best thing for me would be to withdraw from a championship I do not want to participate in and have a quiet, normal year.”

“Oh come now, Harry. You don’t have to pretend. Our readers love a rebel.” She gave him a simpering fake smile.

“I told you. I didn’t put my name in the Goblet. I was with Susan that night,” Harry bit out, trying to control his anger.

“Are you worried about the tasks?” Rita asked, changing track. “People have died in the past, you know.”

“We were all assured that robust safety measures have been put in place this year, and the champions have nothing to worry about.”

“I doubt you’d have to worry even if that wasn’t the case. After all, you have support from the highest levels of government, not to mention the Headmaster of this school. I hear he’s very fond of you.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

He knew exactly what she was trying to imply.

As if Madame Bones and Professor Dumbledore are the types of people who’d help anyone cheat.

“Just that you’re not alone in this fight! Such a poor, tragic fate, but you must be brave,” Skeeter said insincerely, reaching out to grasp his hand. She let go after a harsh squeeze.

He grabbed his thigh, his nails sinking into his skin as he tried to avoid cursing at the woman.

Before he could say anything he’d immediately regret, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Harry turned towards the sudden influx of light, happy to leave with whoever had interrupted them, even if it was Ludo Bagman. He instead gazed up at the serene face and long white beard of the Headmaster, who stood quietly at the entrance, looking down at the two of them.

“Dumbledore!” Skeeter sported a huge smile on her face, but the nervousness in her voice was unmistakable. She grabbed her quill and pad, shoving them in her bag before either Harry or  Professor Dumbledore could take a look at what the quill had written. “How are you?” she asked, getting up and extending her hand. Professor Dumbledore shook it quietly. “Did you enjoy my last article on you?”

“What man doesn’t enjoy being called a senile obsolete dingbat, Rita?” Professor Dumbledore responded with a quiet chuckle.

Skeeter looked completely unperturbed by the barb.

“I just report the truth, Dumbledore. Your ideas have no place in our new world, and my readers have a right to know what their Supreme Mugwump gets up to.”

“I would love to talk and debate your reasons for penning that delightfully horrible article, Rita but I’m afraid it will have to be some other time.” Professor Dumbledore extended a hand toward Harry. “The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and the ceremony cannot begin if one of the champions is missing.”

Harry eagerly grasped the Headmaster’s hand, pulling himself to his feet. He practically ran back into the classroom, not bothering to look back or wait for the Headmaster or Skeeter to join him. The other Champions were now waiting in a line by the door and Harry quickly squeezed in the space between Cedric and the wall, before turning to look at the large table. He watched Professor Dumbledore stride across the room to sit on the only remaining empty chair. All five of the judges were now seated; Professor Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Ludo Bagman, Mr. Crouch, and Professor Karkaroff. Harry tried not to wince when his scar twinged as he looked at Professor Karkaroff.

What the hell was that? He thought, trying not to panic.

He looked around the room to see if anything or anyone else would cause the same reaction. Rita Skeeter had slipped back into the room and settled into the corner opposite him. She was staring at him and he stared right back, wondering if his scar was some sort of universal detector for dangerous or evil people. She smiled, pulled out her pad and that blasted quill from her bag, and began to write.

He had a gut feeling that Skeeter was dangerous, he just didn’t know how, yet.

His scar did not hurt.

Why did it hurt when I looked at Professor Karkaroff then?

“May I introduce you all to Mr. Ollivander?” Harry turned to Professor Dumbledore when he realized the man was addressing the champions. “He will assess your wands to make sure they’re ready for the tasks.”

Harry watched the old wizard hobble to the lectern placed in the middle of the room for him, looking at all the champions with his large, pale gray eyes. Harry shuddered. He knew the wizard’s wand-making skills were second to none, but something about the man had always unsettled him.

“Miss Delacour?” He extended a shriveled hand. Fleur stepped forward, placing her wand in his palm.

He looked at the wand for a minute, running his finger along its length, “Nine and a half inches. Rosewood. Rather inflexible and temperamental. I presume that is because of its rather unique core…”

“Veela hair,” Fleur confirmed. “My grandmother’s. She gave a strand for the core of my wand, and my sister’s,” Fleur declared proudly.

Ollivander nodded, appearing pleased that his suspicions were correct. He summoned a bouquet of flowers, handing both the flowers and the wand back to Fleur.

“Mr. Diggory?” Harry raised an eyebrow at the smiles the two champions exchanged when they crossed paths. Cedric handed his wand to Ollivander, awaiting judgment.

“Ah! One of mine!” Ollivander suddenly sounded much more animated. “Twelve inches. Ash. Unicorn core. Springy and well-tuned. It’s in fine condition.”

“I polish it every night,” Cedric replied proudly. Harry was suddenly glad Hermione had made him clean his wand before the ceremony.

This time Ollivander conjured up a jet of water, handing the wand back to Cedric with an approving nod.

“Mr. Krum?” Viktor Krum stalked over to the wandmaker, silently pushing his wand into the awaiting palm.

“Ahh. I recognize this style. This is a Gregorovitch wand. Never quite agreed with him on anything but…” Ollivander mumbled, studying the wand. It was thicker than theirs, with symbols etched into the hilt. “Rigid. Too rigid. A curious combination, hornbeam and dragon heartstring,” he mumbled. “Avis!” The wand let out a bang as a group of twittering birds shot out of it, and Ollivander handed it back, satisfied.

“That leaves… Mr. Potter.”

Harry sighed and got to his feet, reluctantly handing over his wand to the man.

“Oh yes. Oh yes. This one, I remember. How could I ever forget?” Ollivander mumbled, caressing the wand, his eyes gleaming with suppressed excitement. “Eleven inches. Holly. A feather from the tail of a rather remarkable phoenix.”

Harry crossed his fingers, praying that the man had enough sense not to share all the details about his wand, especially the connection between it and Voldemort’s wand in front of everyone.

That would make the front page of tomorrow’s paper for sure.

“But… this shouldn’t be possible. It has changed since I last saw it… There is a new… light to it. A very subtle thing, but unmistakable just the same. Something has changed… this is not the wand it once was,” Ollivander mumbled, spending the next few minutes studying the wand in deep concentration. “Curious. Most curious.”

After what seemed like forever, Ollivander conjured up rings of smoke from the tip of his wand, reluctantly handing it back to him. Harry had a feeling that he would have happily spent all night studying his wand if given the chance.

“They’re all in perfect working condition,” he announced to the judges.

“Thank you,” Dumbledore stood, smiling at the champions. “It is getting to be rather late, so I suggest we all leave for dinner.”

Harry was halfway to the door before Bagman stopped them all with a demand for photos.

“We need a photo of all the champions and the judges together Dumbledore! For posterity’s sake!” Bagman declared, beckoning the photographer over with a wave of his hand.

“And the papers,” Skeeter said, finally looking up from her pad. She tucked it and the quill back into her handbag and ambled over to stand by Harry’s side.

“And the papers,” Bagman agreed.

Harry reluctantly turned, hoping they would be done quickly. He was famished, and he had been looking forward to his first meal sitting together with Susan.

The photos took a long time. Skeeter demanded individual shots of all the champions. Bagman wanted one of just the judges.

When the time came for the group photo, a fight nearly broke out between Skeeter and the photographer. The man wanted Fleur front and center, while Skeeter was determined it be Harry. In the end, they compromised, with both he and Fleur standing in the middle. At last, after the final shot of the champions and judges together, they were free to go.

Harry sprinted out of the classroom as fast as he could to make sure Skeeter didn’t have a chance to corner him again. He only paused once he reached the entrance of the Great Hall. It was nearly empty, most students had already finished their dinner. He ignored the couple of Slytherins who flashed their ‘POTTER STINKS’ badges at him when he passed their table. What did make him happy was the fact that there were noticeably fewer badges on the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Hannah Abbot even gave him a smile when he walked past her.

He ignored Ron’s glare, even though he was half tempted to smack the git straight. Susan and Hermione had both asked him to let the matter be for the time being, and he was already too emotionally drained by the events of the day to get into yet another shouting match with him. He walked to the very end of the table where Susan and Hermione were sitting. They had already finished eating, but he was glad they had decided to wait for him. The prospect of eating alone, with only Ron’s glare for company was not appealing.

“That took long.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry grunted, slipping in next to Susan. He raised his hand when Hermione tried to speak. “Save your questions for later Mione, I’m famished.”

“I saved you a plate,” Susan whispered, pulling the covering plate away from the food she had saved for him. He kissed her cheek appreciatively before turning his attention to the food. She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder, clasping the hand he wasn’t using to eat.

“Call it a night? You must be tired,” she asked once he had finished, and Harry nodded.

“Goodnight, boyfriend,” she whispered, a hand on his cheek turning him towards her. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. He leaned into her and was just about to deepen the kiss when Hermione’s discreet cough broke the spell.

“Goodnight, girlfriend,” he mumbled. She blushed and wordlessly slipped out of the bench.

“Hey, Susie?” Harry called as she was walking away, holding out his own satchel. “You took my bag by mistake.”

Susan looked at him in confusion. She walked towards him and exchanged bags, thankfully taking the hint.

“That was your bag,” Hermione pointed out, getting to her feet.

“No, it wasn’t.” Harry followed her, stuffing a muffin in his mouth to prevent any further questions. Hermione simply rolled her eyes at the transparent lie.

                                                                  ---

Susan opened the bag the minute she was out of the Great Hall, smiling at the sight of the panties he had confiscated the day before, his invisibility cloak, and a note telling her to wait by the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower at midnight. She shivered at the thought of her first night sharing a bed with her boyfriend.

Shit. Do I have something cute to wear?

“Not a minute to waste,” she mumbled, holding the bag to her chest as she ran all the way to her dormitory.

Notes:

The next chapter will feature Harry and Susan sharing a bed for the first time, some kinky fun, and a horrible article, and will be published on Wednesday.