Marauders - Always - Part One

CLXXIX: Diggory's Interview

Whatever it was that Ludo Bagman had fancied talking with Oliver Kent about was forgotten the instant that Harry Potter walked into the room. The old Quidditch player launched from his feet in a motion faster than he'd probably made since he'd put on the post-league weight, bounding forward with a bright, jovial air. "Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... Nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment..."

Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacor both looked up from the parchment they were looking over and even Viktor Krum turned from the window to stare moodily as Harry walked into other room, looking much more nervous than any of the elder Champions did. "Wand weighing?" Harry echoed Ludo, confusion clear on his face.

Bagman chuckled like a grandfather doting over a toddler, "We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead!"

Oliver watched Harry reach instinctively for his wand pocket and was glad to see that, at least in that aspect, he was not like his father. After all, it was rather well known that James Potter had been wandless the night that You Know Who had attacked the house... Oliver remembered weeks and months of articles running in the Daily Prophet asking WHY DID JAMES FORGO THE WAND? 

Because he thought it was just his best friend coming to visit, they'd all concluded. Thought it was only Sirius Black at the door. Wouldn't have had the wand to greet Black, would he? Best mates, he thought they were. Before he betrayed them.

Oliver felt sick.

"The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," Ludo's voice broke through Oliver's thoughts. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet."

Oliver looked up. "I thought Declan Alectric was the writer for the Prophet on this piece?"

Rita Skeeter shot a glare in Oliver's direction, but didn't answer, turning to Harry and Ludo. "Maybe not that small, Ludo," she said cozily, and she extended a hand to Harry, wearing two-inch long nails, painted crimson red. She smiled and took Harry's hand rather tightly. "I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" She peered at the boy and smiled widely. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of color?"

Oliver frowned. He didn't like the idea of Rita Skeeter taking the scoop - even if he wasn't certain the piece was supposed to be Declan's, he still would've been upset after what went on at the World Cup. He didn't trust Rita a single bit and he started to get up to protest - "you can interview Harry right here with the rest of us all around to witness it, you snake" was on the tip of his tongue to say - but Ludo beat him to an answer.

"Certainly!" Bagman cried out, positively beaming, "That is -- if Harry has no objection?"

And before Harry could speak a word, Rita had grabbed hold on Harry and steered him out of the room.

Bagman was grinning indulgently when he turned back around, "Lad doesn't know what to do with being so famous all of a sudden," he chuckled.

"Rather I think Harry Potter is perfectly used to fame at this point," Oliver answered. "Are you sure we ought to be letting her alone with the boy?" he glanced at the doorway.

"Skeeter's a fine writer! Very professional! Never misses a story, that woman. Greatest writer that ever lived," Bagman reassured Oliver. "Now Kent, I wanted to talk with you about your training strategies for Mr. Diggory --" and Bagman took hold of Oliver's wrist and pulled him back to the row of velvet covered desks with ease.

Cedric Diggory, meanwhile, stared longer than he might've needed to after the door had closed behind Harry and Rita, and he turned to look at Fleur Delacor with a raised eyebrow. She looked quite peeved off, her mouth twisted into a little bit of a snarl. "An' why eez eet that 'arry Potter is being left alone weeth zat woman?" demanded Fleur, "Zare is no telling what she weel gouge out of him!" She directed this complaint to Bagman.