not yours, but MINE.

Rita Skeeter..

Entering the small chamber that held many people, Harry quickly made his way to the other champions as they were already lined up. There have been three blackboards covered with a long length of velvet that was behind the champions. Bagman was sitting in a chair talking to a witch that Harry was quite similar with as she was the main source of his rumors at the Daily Profit, who's wearing magenta robes. Krum was standing furthest from everyone and wasn't talking to anyone. Cedric and Fleur were talking animatedly as she kept flipping her hair to make it seem silvery in the light. A punchy man holding a large black camera, that was smoking so slightly, was watching Fleur in the corner of his eye, gross. 

His parents and Ms. Flynn were in a corner whispering quietly to each other while looking at Rita Skeeter with thinly veiled disgust. When Bagman spotted Harry, he got up quickly and surged forward and rounded him. "There he is, the fourth champion! Nothing to worry about it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment!" He rambled on about details that Harry already knew before pointing toward Rita to introduce her. "Ah, this is Ms. Rita Skeeter from the Daily Profit. She'll be doing a small article on the tournament" 

"Not that small Ludo," she interrupted. She had curiously rigid curly that contrasted oddly with her face, and jeweled spectacles. Her fingers clutching her crocodile skinned handbag which displayed her 2 inch nails painted crimson red. "I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start," she said to bagman, but still glazing fixed intently on Harry.  She continued, "As Harry is the youngest champion it would certainly add a bit of color."

Harry, seeing Bagman start to open his mouth to reply, cut in, "Actually, that won't be possible as I refuse to be interviewed at all by the Daily Profit seeing at how many lies and rumors came out of them, it's really such a pity." Rita seemed to be getting red in the face by the time Harry finished. In the background, Krum snorted at Harry's sarcasm seeming to share his enthusiasm with the Daily Profit. Before she could retort, Perenelle, Nicolas,  and Ms. Flynn were at Harry's side. "Ms. Skeeter, I would say its a pleasure, but we both know the truth, don't we?" Ah Perenelle's iconic tone to make you feel like you're a child doing something bad. 

"Anyways, I would like you to meet Ms. Azma Flynn, she's from Weekly Pioneer. I've invited her myself of course," Perenelle couldn't help but giggle a bit at Skeeter. Snickering, Harry was quick to turn to the other champions for sanctuary. They all looked mildly amused at adults openly jibing at each other. "Merry meet everyone I'm Harry Flamel-Potter," Harry introduced. The Hogwarts champion reached first to clasp wrist to introduced himself, "I'm Cedric Diggory, its really nice to meet you!" The Beauxbatons' champion curtsied before clasping wrist with Harry, " He'lo, Fleur Delocour, itz a plezzure to meetz you." Harry nodded to both of them with a smile before turning to the Durmstrang champion. 

He grunted before firmly clasping Harry, "Krum, Victor Krum." Harry nodded once again with a big smile. "Its nice to meet all of you! I hope we can become friends even if we are competing against each other," Harry was met with enthused smiles and nods of agreement. Looking back at his parents and the two journalist, Harry made a quick decision, "Not to force you guys, but I'll be talking to Azma Flynn instead of Rita Skeeter." Cedric and Fleur looked confused while Krum looked at Harry critically. "Why, Skeeter is from the Daily Profit?" Cedric spoke up. 

"That's true, but I've had my share of the Daily Profit spreading lies about me. Like how when I was five I found the Sword of Excalibur or when I was eight I found the ring of invisibility," Harry almost seemed amused at those memories. The others looked at each other before shrugging. "I think i'll give the Daily Profit a chance before going to the Weekly Pioneer," Cedric spoke up and the other two nodded in consideration as they had never experienced being the spotlight in the British newspaper . 

Harry shrugged, okay with the fact that he warned them. Before anyone else could talk, Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, and Mr. Crouch entered the chamber. "Dumbledore!" cried Rita Skeeter. Dumbledore mumbled to her about how much he enjoy the piece on him####.  write her reply...

Spinning to face the four contestants and practically shoved her hand into the faces forcing them to shake it, "Good day to you all, I'm Rita Skeeter. I write for the Daily Prophet." She smirked and flared her arms about before continuing, "But of course you know about that, it's you we don't know. You're the juicy news. Young lady, with lovely smile. What quirks lie beneath those rosy cheeks?" She stroked Fleur's cheek before slapping it lightly. Turning to walk behind Cedric to tussle his hair, "What courage lie beneath those curls?" Continuing to glance at Krum heavily, "What mysteries do those muscles mask?" 

She looked at Harry next seemingly wanting to jibe about him but a cough from Nicolas interrupted her. However, she hugged Harry and Cedric to her, "In short, what makes a champion tick! Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my avid readers," she giggled. She stopped to glance at the four kids, "So, who's up for sharing!" Noticing no one was gonna offer up she grabbed onto Cedric, "Lets start off with the pretty one? Lovely." 

A little while later as the three other contestant stormed out of the little cupboard after their interview with Skeeter, Dumbledore coughed before introducing an old man, "May I introduce Mr. Ollivander? He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament." 

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand. "Hmm..." he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it chose to his eyes and examined it carefully. "Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..." Fleur puffed up before explaining, "An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's." 

So Fleur was part veela, thought Harry. 

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you.." he hummed before running his fingers along the wand, checking for scratches or bumps. Once satisfied, he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip. He smiled for stating, "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order." Giving her her wand back he called out Cedric next. 

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn. . . must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition...You treat it regularly?" 

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning slyly. Harry puffed at him before turning to look down at his wand to see the seek and glossy wood. Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please." Viktor got up and approached Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes. 

"Hmm," said Mr. Olhivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I. . . however. ." He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes. "Yes.. . hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Victor, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees. . . quite rigid. . . ten and a quarter inches. . . Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight. "Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Victor back his wand. "Which leaves. . . Mr. Flamel-Potter."