The confrontation in the library did not remain a secret for long. Like everything else at Hogwarts, it was fuel for the school's relentless rumor mill, but this time, the story spread with a surprising degree of accuracy. The narrative was just too compelling: the beautiful, haughty Beauxbatons champion had confronted Harry Potter, and Ariana Dumbledore had, without raising her voice or her wand, intellectually dismantled her in front of half the library.
The effect was a subtle but significant shift in school opinion. Ariana's argument, when repeated, was so logical it was almost impossible to refute. Why was Fleur Delacour so concerned with a fourteen-year-old? The conversation reframed Harry's participation. For many, he went from being a contemptible cheat to a tragic underdog, a boy unfairly thrown into a dangerous game far beyond his capabilities. The "Support Cedric Diggory" badges didn't disappear, but the open hostility towards Harry began to soften, replaced by a sort of pitying curiosity.
Even Fleur Delacour, after her initial fury had cooled, was forced to concede the point. She was a smart witch, and she recognized the flawed logic of her own emotional outburst. She began to pointedly ignore Harry, focusing her competitive energy on Cedric and Krum, a tacit admission that Ariana had been right. Her respect for the quiet Gryffindor girl, grudging as it was, had been firmly established.
Draco Malfoy, who had been savoring Harry's ostracization with undisguised glee, found this turn of events deeply unsatisfying. He had overheard the entire exchange in the library and had initially been thrilled at the prospect of a fight between the champion and Dumbledore. Instead, he had witnessed a clinical, strategic takedown. He began to reassess his understanding of Ariana. He had always seen her as a powerful but aloof curiosity, a freakishly talented witch who was best avoided. Now, he started to see her as something more dangerous. She wasn't just powerful; she was a political operator. She could shift school-wide opinion with a few calm sentences. She didn't just win fights; she won arguments, which was, in the long game of influence his father had taught him, a far more potent skill. The threat level he mentally assigned to her was upgraded from 'dangerous' to 'to be handled with extreme caution'.
A few weeks later, a notice appeared announcing the first official event of the Tournament: The Weighing of the Wands. It was a ceremony where the champions' wands would be inspected by an expert from the Ministry to ensure they were in proper working order. A journalist and photographer from the Daily Prophet would also be present.
Harry was filled with a familiar dread at the prospect of more public scrutiny. On the afternoon of the ceremony, Ariana, Hermione, and Daphne walked with him to the small classroom where the event was to be held.
"It's just a formality, Harry," Hermione said reassuringly. "They just check that your wand is functional. Ollivander will be there."
"Try not to let Rita Skeeter bait you," Daphne added, her voice full of a pure-blood's disdain for tabloid journalism. "She'll twist your words into whatever narrative sells the most papers."
Ariana simply placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Your objective is to answer truthfully, speak minimally, and exit efficiently. Do not engage with provocations. It is a simple data-gathering exercise for the press. Give them nothing of value." She gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Good luck."
With that, the three girls turned and left him at the door. Their presence was a show of support, but they had no interest in the ceremony itself. It was a media event, a piece of political theatre, and therefore, an inefficient use of their time.
"Shall we head back to the Room?" Hermione asked as they walked away. "I think I've found a parallel between the runic matrix for energy dispersal and the arithmantic formulas for magical decay."
"An interesting correlation," Ariana mused. "But no. My analysis suggests that our recent period of intense research has led to a marginal decrease in our own physiological efficiency due to lack of rest. A brief period of non-academic activity is the logical course of action to restore optimal cognitive function."
Daphne smirked. "In English, that means you think we should take a break."
"Precisely," Ariana confirmed with a rare, small smile. "I propose we acquire several honey-and-almond nougats from the kitchens and find a quiet, sunny spot by the lake."
The suggestion was so uncharacteristically normal, so simple, that Hermione and Daphne both stared at her for a moment before breaking into genuine, happy laughter. The idea of the three of them simply relaxing, eating sweets, and doing nothing of monumental importance felt like a luxury.
As they made their way towards the kitchens, their conversation light and easy, Harry was facing the press. He endured the flash of the camera, the condescending inspection of his wand by a smug-looking Ollivander, and the probing, saccharine-sweet questions of Rita Skeeter, a woman with acid-green robes and alarmingly predatory spectacles.
He answered as Ariana had advised, with short, simple, and uninteresting truths. He felt the other champions' eyes on him—Cedric's sympathetic, Krum's brooding, and Fleur's coolly indifferent. It was an ordeal, but he got through it.
He knew that later, he would have to face the first task. He would have to face a dragon, or a manticore, or something even worse. But as he left the stuffy classroom, he felt a new sense of calm. He wasn't alone. He had a team. While he was facing the photographers and the politicians, his friends were already working on the bigger picture, analyzing the threats, and preparing the solutions. He was the champion, the one who had to stand in the arena. But they were his strategists, his researchers, his silent guardians. And with them on his side, the impossible odds of the tournament felt just a little more manageable.