*Hogwarts school of Witchraft and Wizardry*November 10, 1994*
"I told you to stay out of my personal space," Harry shoved the tiny Gryffindor ahead of him as the boy tried to, once again, stay close to the Mexican, "I don't care if you want an autograph, all I want is to get back to my home at the end of the year," if he had known that the year would go so bad he would have waited until he was eighteen.
"But, but, you're Harry Potter" the Gryffindor said
"And you an annoying brat," Harry walked faster, leaving the boy behind, "If you're just going to bother me I'll just go back to the greenhouse.
"They want you to go to a classroom in the first floor," the boy said defeated.
"Was that so hard to say?" Harry started to jog towards the entrance hall, cursing the judges of the tournament for their timing.
He had been in a rather interesting lecture about the effects of the night lily in rituals and potions, as well as it effects when the pollen was spread on a farm.
It wasn't even being given by the professor but by a girl named Hannah Abbot. Harry was eager to try a potion with night lily in it, especially the one that helped with better vision.
Harry did not have the worst of visions, but his contacts were very bothersome, as they made his eyes itch, his eyelids to get irritated, and they fell off at the worst time.
But they were better than glasses, at least in his opinion, as he could see well even from the corner of his eye, as opposed to glasses, and the constant itching meant that he would never go to sleep with them, as had happened to him twice during his brief experience with the more common option.
Back on the topic of the tournament.
Harry had been called off from his class to go to some event that was meant to check the wands of the competitors for any tampering, though Harry thought it was a waste of time, as there were only as many certified wand makers as there were countries in Europe and North Africa, and the rest of the world used other foci.
They had saved a lot of money and time by bringing the only wizard in Britain that was certified by the ICW as a Foci crafter to make the inspections, showing that evne if the generally lacked common sense, they had their moments of good thinking.
Yes, Harry was wrong in his thoughts.
No one would hear him say that.
It was not a very big effort to find the classroom where the Weighing of the Wands, which would probably be changed in name to the Weighing of the Foci, as there was a troop of reporters, from four different papers, outside of it.
"Out of my way, I want to get back to class before I miss the whole lecture" Harry pushed the reporters away from his path, caring not if they painted him as arrogant, as he had been very much into the lecture, and even though he would probably understand enough from Nahil's notes, it was not the same.
"Mister Potter, can you tell me who it was that kidnapped you from your home ten years ago?" a nameless reporter asked.
Harry stopped in the doorway, "First of all, I wasn't kidnapped, I ran away from a house I hated, and second, it was nine years ago," The reporters all heard a slow, loud breath, "If you're going to try to get someone pissed, at least get your facts straight"
"Mister Potter, can you tell me about the peculiar fauna of your homeland?" A blond man that looked oddly familiar asked.
"Are you a Lovegood?" the man nodded, "I'll give Luna a book, she'll pass it along"
"Harry Potter, from the Daily Prophet, is it true that you are dating a magical creature?"
"Is it true that your mother was a hamster? Or that your father smelt of elderberries?"
A muggleborn that had been watching the ceremony broke down laughing, having recognized the quote. Harry motioned her closer, "I fart in their general direction," he muttered, making the girl collapse.
He snorted and walked into the classroom.
"Ah, Mister Potter, just the man I was waiting for," Garrick Olivander was sited behind a desk, "If you could please hand me your foci, the only student missing would be Mister Longbottom."
Harry handed over the wand without hesitation, but cut the palm of his hand and made a prayer before motioning for Olivander to cut his palm too.
The old man, after tilting his head at the ritual, closed his eyes and allowed Harry to open a small wound on his palm. A ritual, ancient one, to pass along a weapon, from father to son or from master to apprentice, that had been modified for allowing craft masters to repair or modify the weapon.
"Alright, lets see," Olivander perfomed a fast depulso with the wand, making the quill next to him fly off the desk, "Holy and Phoenix Feather, good for combat, better with transfiguration, weak with charms but still able to perform them better than other wands, the true weakness lies with potions, it will almost always overpower a step when required to push magic into the cauldron"
Harry grabbed the wand and handed the Macahuitl, grabbing it by the side. Olivander grabbed it with extreme care, mostly because he knew that Harry was attached to it.
"Curious thing, weapon foci, I never went to deep into their creation, they lack a certain finesse, if I was to work on one like it I would choose a stave, they have the same capability of the wand, if a slower casting time. Now, you have been using it for how long?"
"Four years now, four and a half, I like that thing, even if it is quite bulky" Harry answered with a half-smile.
"This is the work of the southern Mexicans, during my time as an apprentice I learnt that the three different regions of your country had different ways to make their foci."The south uses more wood and obsidian, the north uses mostly rock and some wood for the handles only, and the center uses wood from small trees, and since the fifteen hundreds rose wood mixed with another, and stones from the almost dry lakes."So Mesquite wood, a hard wood, stubborn, but good at defensive magics; silver and copper, versitality, so it's not focused on defense only, I suppose it is good for transfiguration, if we go with the wand for an example; tail feather of a feathered snake, I feel a strong affinity towards the water aspect of the animal; and finally crushed magical jaguar, territorial, it will make spells powered by defensive thoughts, whether the spells are offensive or defensive, so whenever someone challenges you for something that belongs to you."
The old man asked Fleur to make a fire, using a low powered aquamenti with the weapon to put it off.
"Both foci are in good working order, however, I would recommend polishing your focus of choice mister Potter, the wood needs it," Olivander handed back the macahuitl in the same way grabbed it.
Harry fell into line with the other three champions, the true ones, and reached into his backpack, taking out a bundle of corn leaves and a plate, "Ricos tamales Oaxaqueños" He muttered, unwrapping the leaves and showing a pink mass inside.
Harry ate without a care in the world, spitting raisins every once in a while, making everybody glare at him for having something to entertain himself with, unlike all other participants.
"Mister Longbottom, if you would be so kind as to hand over to the wand you have been using" the boy, having just arrived, looking tired, pulled it out from his breast pocket and did so.
Olivander threw it over his shoulder without a second glace, calling to the air, "Oli, bring me twenty unicorn hair wands, different woods and lengths, please."
Harry snorted at the look on Neville's face when he saw the wand get thrown away. A minute after Olivander called his elf, the boxes containing the wands asked for appeared over the desk.
"If you could wave these wands around until you find the one that choses you, I will take seven galleons for it and consider your wand in working order."
After a wand chose Neville, the process taking two tamales and a mango for Harry to eat, it was time, according to the tabloid present, for a photo shoot.
Harry, not knowing when the photo would be shot, as the photographer only fired without announcing it first, ended up flipping the bird to any and all readers, as he fixed his eyebrows with his middle finger and thumb.
Neville did not manage to get one shot looking well, always with a smudge on his nose, robes slipping off his frame, and in the last one falling because of his fumbling about.
Fleur Delacour left after the third photo, tired of the photographer ogling at her, covered with three layers of cloth.
Diggory bared with it for the full hour it lasted, as did Victor Krum, though the latter looked very much annoyed.
A hellish noon, for most of the involved.
Luckily lunch was close.
Right, so there is a dialogue is spanish, you'll recognize it, and it means 'tasty Oaxaquenan tamales' this is a reference to the tamale salesmen that go around the southern Mexican cities selling the things.
Tamales are made almost the same way as tortillas, but where tortillas are flat and only of wheat or corn flour, without any flavor but those, tamales can be made with any flavor, ranging from milk sweet to beef to coffee.
They are tasty things and if you ever come to Mexico you have to try them