Harry Potter Promise NR.4 - Sex Stories

Harry Potter Promise NR.4

... fungus curse Malfoy used rebounded and hit Crabbe. Ron's toenail growing jinx knocked a chip out of the wall right behind Hermione, who ducked out of the way in barely enough time to avoid it. Snape's arrival was slightly less fortuitous, and he docked Gryffindor twenty points before sweeping inside and starting the lesson. Colin Creevey interrupted as they began, pulling Harry out for the wand-weighing ceremony. Harry stifled his groan and hurried to meet with the tournament officials. He was glad to see Minerva there as well. She gave him a small wink, and he smiled. He avoided a fake-looking woman who tried to corner him, and went to stand next to the other champions. "Ah, good, now that we are all here, we can begin." Dumbledore gestured to Ollivander, who was seated at a wooden table. The old wandmaker nodded, and held out his hand for Krum. The Bulgarian placed his wand in the man's hands, and Ollivander nodded. "A Gregorovich creation if I am not mistaken. Hornbeam wood and Dragon Heartstring, ten and a quarter inches, correct?" Krum nodded. "Thicker than normal, and quite rigid, but if it works." He then made a fountain of wine appear. "In perfect working condition." He handed the wand back, and moved on to Fleur. "Hmm, this is an interesting creation. Nine and a half inches, rosewood and… my, oh my! Is that Veela hair?" Fleur nodded. "My grandmozzer's," she informed him. Ollivander nodded, creating a bouquet of roses from thin air, and handing it to the witch with ...

... a smile. "Very nice." Cedric was next. His ash wood and unicorn hair wand passed inspection, and soon enough the wandmaker was inspecting Harry's wand. "Yes, I remember this wand. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. Nice and supple." He made a sweeping gesture, cleaning up the wine before handing it back to Harry and nodding at Dumbledore. "Pictures!" Bagman cried, before the next few minutes descended into chaos, with the former Quidditch star arranging all the champions to his satisfaction, and then getting the photographer from the Daily Prophet to take the photos. Harry had just thought that he could get out of there without losing his mind, when he was once more cornered by the bottle blond woman with fake glasses and green fingernails. "Harry, darling!" she cooed. "Rita Skeeter, I would just love to do an interview with you. How do you feel, being in this tournament against those so much older than you? Do you regret entering yourself now?" Minerva cut in before she could say anything more. Her voice was clipped, and it sounded like she was trying very hard not to hex the woman as she spoke. "Mr. Potter is not willing to speak with you, Ms. Skeeter. And as a minor, it falls to me, his guardian, to approve or disprove of interviews. If you publish a single word on him without his or my consent, you will face not only my wrath, but the combined wrath of the Potter and Black families." Her smile was not at all comforting. "Believe me, Lord Black takes his godson's ...