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.

"Oh don't you worry, Miss. Delacor!" Bagman said, "You'll get a turn to talk with Skeeter, too, I'm sure she'll want all of your opinions on the Tournament just the same." He laughed and turned back to Oliver Kent, peppering him with questions about what Kent had ascertained about Diggory's capabilities.

Cedric sighed, "He isn't going to listen, Fleur. I'm afraid nobody at the Ministry will." He handed her the parchment covered with Krum's block-lettered writing. "Just see here, they've never disqualified a champion before." He tapped the notes Krum had taken that afternoon in the library. He frowned, "Even when a contestant was sick, they still made him compete and he only barely made it through an agility course with his life after Grindylows overpowered him in an underwater duel?" Cedric looked up at her.

"Eet eez not right, eet eez cruel, eet eez --"

"I do apologize I'm late, but I got caught up on my way up the stairs... My darling photographer here forgot her film and we had to turn back for a quick pop back to the inn..." A flash of blue hair, the banging of a door, and in breezed Declan Alectric with his photographer in tow. He wore a Daily Prophet press pass, identical to the one that Skeeter had worn, as did his photographer, who wore a black bag of equipment on her hip.

"Your 'air, eet eez blue!" exclaimed Fleur, impressed. "What a unique shade!"

"Thanks dearie, it's PMS 18-4245," Declan said, and, seeing Oliver, he passed by Cedric and Fleur and made for the table. "Why if it isn't my favorite client." He stared at Oliver for a moment with a raised eyebrow, "And how are you doing, Mr. Kent?"

Oliver gave Declan a funny look. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad at you, heavens no." He looked around the room. "Isn't this the Weighing of the Wands? Where is our other Champion? And the other judges?"

"Upstairs, just finishing up greeting our expert wand handler," Ludo Bagman grinned. "Asked me to come and watch over the champions. Harry Potter's being interviewed by your colleague this very moment just down the hall! I can show you the way if you wish to join Miss. Skeeter in --"

"No, no," Declan shook his head, waving Bagman off, "No. Why put two reporters on one job? Silly, wouldn't it be? I'd rather cover some more ground if you don't mind. In fact --" Declan spun about on his heels, smiling. "Mr. Diggory, would you mind doing a very short, teensy-weensy little interview? And when I'm finished with you, I'll interview Krum and Skeeter can take the girl."

Cedric was about to argue - he was, after all, in the middle of a discussion with Fleur when Declan had burst into the room quite unceremoniously - but Oliver was on his feet and hurrying Cedric toward Declan before he could say no. "Yes, yes, you ought to interview Mr. Diggory, Declan, an excellent idea."

Oliver was just loathe to see Skeeter anywhere near his champion. Or Krum. 

Fleur watched, perplexed, as Oliver Kent grabbed hold on Cedric and led him to the door, Declan and his photographer following into the corridor. Declan paused in the door. "You be thinking on what you want to talk to ol' Deccy about, Viktor, and I'll be back in just a mo' for your turn." He ducked out the door.

Fleur raised her eyebrow at Viktor, but Viktor turned away, back to the window. "Zat duzzent seem to be very appropriate of a comment to be saying at hees age," Fleur said, sniffing.

Krum shrugged. "Declan is a kind man, though few understand that about him."

In the corridor, Oliver directed Cedric Diggory into the trophy room and pulled the door mostly closed, turning to Declan. "Where have you been?"

Declan shrugged, "Here, there... everywhere... Where've you been?"

"At the inn," Oliver answered. He glanced at the photographer shadowing Declan with hesitance in his eyes.

Declan glanced over his shoulder at the girl behind him, then back to Oliver, "Oh don't mind ol' Hannah back there, she's fine. Not a thing to worry about. You can be perfectly opaque with her."

"Transparent," the photographer - Hannah, Oliver supposed - said.

Declan looked over his shoulder at her again, "What? Really?"

"Yeah. Transparent is see through. Opaque is - well, the opposite." 

"Well I'll be," Declan said. He looked at Oliver. "If anyone would know - she would." He paused, then, "I'm sorry I didn't come back after the other night. I thought you'd be shacked up with Wallford or whatever his name is short for."

Oliver flushed, "He's... otherwise occupied."

"With his wife?" Declan said, smirking.

Oliver's face burned red, then he said, "Look, Declan, go easy on Diggory alright?"

"What?"

"My champion?"

Declan grinned, "Why would I do anything but?"

"I don't know, but please, be... generous? With all the hollabulloo about Harry - nobody's paying a lot of attention to the other champions and honestly they deserve better than the media's done them."

Declan replied, "You know that's all Skeeter's doing."

"I thought this was your story?"

"It was until she stole it out from under me." He paused. "Or... traded it, I should say." He stared at Oliver meaningfully.

Oliver stared at him with wide eyes. "You -- traded..."

"Yes. I traded stories with Skeeter. Greatest break of my career, given up for you. Now excuse me, I have a champion to interview and he probably thinks it very odd that you've closed him off the trophy room with no explanation!" Declan pushed 'round Oliver, who still looked shocked at the news that Declan had traded lost the Triwizard Tournament story to Skeeter because of his faux pas at the World Cup. He flushed as the photographer followed Declan into the room beyond.

Cedric did, indeed, appear rather perplexed to have been dumped so unceremoniously into the room and then made to wait. He watched as Declan's photographer unzipped her black bag and removed a complicated-looking muggle style home video recorder and a tripod, which she set to mounting the fancy camera to. Oliver stared at the contraption, too. "What's with the video recording?" he asked.

"Makes it easier to play back," Declan said. He pointed to an ornate antique chair in the corner, "There, why don't you have a seat just there, Diggory, and we'll have a ickle chat, 'ey?"

"Alright," Cedric answered, settling into the indicated chair. 

Declan conjured up another and sat down, pulling out a notepad and flicking it opened as Oliver hovered a few steps behind, watching the video equipment being prepared. "How long have you known Deccy?" he asked Hannah.

"Honestly, I don't even know anymore," Hannah replied as she slid a new tape into the side of the camcorder.

"Don't be distracting my photographer," Declan scolded.

Hannah looked through the view finder, lined up the shot, and hit record, motioning to Declan to indicate it was a go and Declan looked down at his notepad again. "So - Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff. What a great opportunity you've got here, 'ey? Hogwarts Champion in the Triwizard Tournament - prominent member of a house that's sort of known for being woefully overshadowed... Do you find it daunting?"

Oliver rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning away at the word find. 

Cedric didn't seem to catch the joke. "There's a lot of pressure to do my house justice."

Declan nodded, "I'm sure the Puffs are all very proud of you."

Cedric smiled and looked down, his cheeks going a bit red, "Well, I hope so. I hope at least that they aren't regretting me getting the title at least."

"I saw some kids wearing badges rooting for you," Declan said, smirking. "Then they changed to say POTTER STINKS."

"Yeah, well.  I don't think that's very fair. Or right. I certainly didn't start that."

"So you're a gentleman?"

"I try to be."

"How do you feel about Harry being the fourth Champion? Competition from your own school! It must be very annoying, having him stealing your glory?" Declan pressed.

Cedric frowned, "Honestly, I'm more worried about Harry than I am upset he's in the tournament. I don't think it's very fair the Ministry's making him compete. Neither does Fleur and Krum. Not for our sake, mind, but for his. He's just a kid. Nobody even asked him if he wanted to be in the tournament."

"I mean, who wouldn't want to be? Fame, fortune, bragging rights..." Declan winked.

"I suppose," Cedric shrugged. He paused. "That's not what it's about to me."

"No?" Declan asked, "And what's it about to you, then?"

Cedric considered a moment, then he answered, "Just the honor it brings to my house and my family. I really wanted to do something that would make my father proud of me."

"Isn't he proud of you?" Declan pressed.

Cedric sighed, "Well. He is ,yes, very proud of me... but it's just that I feel sort of guilty."

"Guilty? For what?" Declan pressed.

Cedric shrugged, "I feel like maybe he's more proud of me than I've earned him being. I feel like I owe him something to be proud of - something real, something great. You know? Have you ever felt like that?"

Declan smiled and he nodded.

"It's just, like, I'm so bleedin' proud of my father. He's done so many great things in his life... and I hope to be one day be as worthy of being his son as he likes to think I am. He works so hard and -- I don't know. I hope I win the tournament just so I can see the look on his face and know that I've really bloody done something to earn it for once."

Declan searched Cedric's face for a moment, then asked, "And what would you say to your father if you could look him in the eye and say anything you wanted to? At the moment you won, I mean?"

Cedric thought for a moment, and he smiled. "Just that I love him and I'm really proud of him and I'm glad he's my Dad."

Declan nodded and stared down at his notepad for a long moment. Then, he murmured, "That's really great. Perfect. The perfect answer." He looked at Hannah and motioned her to stop recording.

"That's it?" Cedric asked, confused.

"Just needed a few snippets, really," Declan said. He got up as Hannah ejected the tape and flipped it over.

"You didn't ask him any questions about training," Oliver spoke up.

Delcan paused, then glanced at Hannah, who shrugged, and Declan turned back to Cedric. "How's Ollie doing training ya?"

"Excellent," Cedric said.

Declan stood, "Excellent, then." Sensing Oliver wasn't appeased, Declan then launched into a string of questions about quidditch and the lack of a season due to the tournament. Cedric expressed interest in possibly looking at trying out for the Harpies or one of the other pro teams and Declan smiled as Cedric talked.

Finally, there was a rap on the door and it opened up - Bagman sticking his head in. "We're about to start the ceremony," he declared joyfully. "We need Cedric back to the other room!"

They assured Bagman they were on their way, and Hannah dismounted the recorder from the tripod, folding it up and packing her equipment back into the little black bag at her hip. On the way out the door, Declan paused, blocking Cedric in the frame a moment. He stared into Cedric's eyes. "I just want you to know, I'll see to it that your Dad sees the video."

"What?" Cedric asked.

But Declan had spun away without explaining or repeating himself.