Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Arthur
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A moment later the green-robed witch wearing far too much makeup noticed Harry, rushing over to him with her cameraman in tow. "Harry Potter!" she squealed. "It's excellent to meet you. Perhaps I could have an interview-"
"Maybe after the Weighing of the Wands, Miss Skeeter," interrupted Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement and once again prompting Harry to wonder what spell it was.
'Rita Skeeter,' supplied Loki. 'A journalist for the Daily Prophet. Be careful with her if you don't want your reputation ruined. Offer to give her an exclusive interview, and that should placate her hunger for gossip.' He paused. 'If not, a knife through the heart will.' Harry could practically sense his maniacal grin.
Concealing a snort of laughter, he moved over to the seats where the other champions were sitting. As they went up to Ollivander one by one for their wand inspections, Harry barely paid attention, relying on Loki to tell him anything of importance.
Eventually, his turn came around, and he stood up, moving over to Ollivander and carefully handing the man his wand handle-first.
With a wink, he accepted it. He examined it for a few moments, before murmuring a spell too quiet for Harry to hear and getting no reaction. "A demonstration perhaps, Mr Potter?"
Harry could practically already hear the newspaper articles about his wand not working, so he took it into his hand and muttered, "Herbifors." Even as the flower-conjuring spell happened, he was beginning to transfigure them, so a moment later, a bouquet of flowers constructed entirely of ice lay in his palm.
Ollivander nodded in approval. "You have a very strong bond with your wand, Mr Potter. I-"
"Aren't you going to tell us what it's made of?" interrupted Rita Skeeter, looking quite excited at the concept.
Since all mortal wands were wooden, mortals tended to assume Harry's was just very highly polished wood with some extravagant designs on.
Its unique appearance combined with the fact that Ollivander had listed the materials each other champions' wand composed of were apparently too much for the journalist or bear, however.
With a mischievous glint in his eye and a slow grin spreading across his face, Ollivander turned to her, causing Loki to swear. 'I know that look.'
"Well, Miss Skeeter, the problem is that I myself don't know what it is made of." The scratching sound of a quill on paper grew more frantic in the background.
"Harry's wand came into my shop centuries ago, crafted by a mysterious wizard and delivered to one of my ancestors. The wizard who crafted it must've been truly great, for the enchantments on the wand are so powerful it allows none to see into it."
Harry withheld a groan, and Skeeter demanded, "Do you have any idea who this wizard was?"
"Well, there are only rumours, but the wizard said that the wand would only find its true owner in one descended from the line of Pendragon."
Loki groaned, swore, and then sighed. 'Oh, Vandr. Why must you strive to annoy me so?' he lamented, and then sighed once again. 'I suppose this will help our popularity, at least.'
Skeeter practically squealed in delight, and Harry allowed himself to be dragged towards the closet for an interview.
"I'm not sure," said Harry, repeating a variant of what he had answered to the last ten questions.
Needless to say, Skeeter was rather obsessed with his possible connection to King Arthur of Camelot, and Harry was starting to wish he had brought his sword – and most certainly not to "prove" that he was indeed related to King Arthur.
Skeeter had started off by asking him half a dozen times whether he had entered the tournament, to which he had answered no, causing her to rapidly move on to her next set of questions, concerning where he had been all of these years.
He had been careful to be incredibly vague, stringing her a story similar to the one he had told Dumbledore, but being sure to include a few "heartfelt" stories about how he missed his parents.
From there, the reporter had went on to asking how he felt as though he had a chance against the other champions, who had been trained for years.
Harry had talked about he had faith in himself, and he too had trained, also saying it was in his blood. He now regretted that, for it had brought Skeeter to her current line of questioning.
"So do you have any abilities that might indicate a relation to King Arthur?"
Harry's left eye twitched. "I'm not sure."
"How do you feel about possibly being related to Arthur?"
His other eye mimicked the motion of the first. "I'm not sure."
"How do you feel-"
Before she could get any further, he interrupted, "How do I feel? Quite ill actually. Must be the stress of the tournament getting to me." He was out of the cupboard before she could get another word in, but then quickly popped his head back in. "Write anything I didn't say, and I shall inflict the wrath of Merl-"
'Arthur.'
"-Arthur Pendragon upon you."
With that, he turned again, this time not hesitating as he marched from the room. As he entered the corridor, he saw who he recognized as a Ministry official talking to a more important-looking Ministry official.
A smirk threatened to enter his face as he heard the words, "Of course, sir. They're in the forest at the moment. They'll definitely be ready for the First Task." It would have been too quiet for human ears, but Harry was no human. It was time to visit the forest.
Under the cloak of nightfall, Harry entered the Forbidden Forest. He had a vague sense of direction in which he was going, supplied by a slight discolouration in the sky he had spotted earlier in the day.
It was incredibly likely that they were concealment wards, and he needed to find out what was hidden behind them.
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