Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron step away from the wall with a furious expression on his face, wand in his hand. Harry ignored him, smirking at Draco. "I'll take one, Malfoy," he said. The Slytherins all stared at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll take a badge. Are they free?" Harry almost laughed at the expression on Draco's face; one he was becoming very familiar with. It was the face that said 'I'm not sure what the hell you think you're playing at but I know better than to try and use logic when it comes to you'. Complete with the little furrow on his forehead, it was quite adorable.

"Harry, don't antagonise him." Hermione seemed to think he was joking. "Just walk away."

"Listen to your little pet bookworm, Potter," Draco said, giving the curly-haired girl a disparaging look. That set Ron off, the redhead clearly spoiling for a fight. He raised his wand, but Draco was quicker. At the exact same time, both of them spoke.

"Furnunculus!" "Densaugeo!"

The two spells met in mid-air and ricocheted off; Harry ducked, but Hermione wasn't quick enough, and Malfoy's spell hit her square in the face. Ron's spell bounced over to hit Goyle, and the large Slytherin bellowed, covering his face with his hands. When he lowered them, his skin was covered in huge, oozing boils.

Hermione, too, had her hands over her face — her mouth, specifically. She wouldn't move them, letting out tiny, panicked squeaks. Ron lunged forward, dragging her hand away. Her front teeth were starting to resembling that of a beaver, growing out past her bottom lip and well on her way towards her chin. "What is going on out here?" The voice was soft, but it carried through the hallway. Snape had arrived.

Draco and Ron began stuttering excuses, and Snape looked exasperated behind his glare. "Goyle, Hospital Wing," he said, when Draco pointed out the damage done to the Slytherin.

"Malfoy got Hermione, too!" Ron argued.

"I don't see any difference, Professor!" Pansy Parkinson crowed, laughing. Tears began to gather in Hermione's eyes.

"Granger, go," Snape dismissed. Hermione grabbed her bag and practically sprinted from the corridor. "The rest of you, inside, now." The class began to file in, and Harry slid into line behind Draco. "Oi, Malfoy," he hissed. Draco glanced back, shooting him a panicked look. Harry smirked at him. "I was serious about that badge."

The look on Draco's face said that he clearly thought Harry had finally cracked, but eventually he gave an irritated huff and turned to his table, shoving past Harry.

As he did, something large and round dropped into Harry's robe pocket. Harry grinned.

.-.

They barely got five minutes into class before there was a knock on the door. Snape glared like he was going to set someone on fire for the disruptions; which only increased when it turned out to be Colin Creevey, requesting Harry for… photographs? Harry shot Snape a desperate glance, begging him to refuse, to keep Harry down in the dungeons. The man merely curled his lip in distaste.

"Potter, take your things and get out. I expect ten inches on the proper method for deriving an antidote by next class."

Groaning under his breath. Harry shouldered his bag and followed Colin Creevey out of the classroom, the third year beaming up at him in awe. "Isn't this amazing, Harry? You being the fourth champion and everything?" "Yeah. Amazing," Harry repeated flatly. "What's all this about, Colin?"

"They didn't really tell me, I was just sent to get you. They want all the champions — I think it's for the Daily Prophet?" That made the boy beam even wider.

"Great. Fantastic." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Just what I need." A thought occurred to him, and he reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling out the badge Malfoy had given him. He fixed it proudly to his chest, ignoring Colin's look of confusion.

When they arrived at the right room, Colin waved a cheerful goodbye, and Harry entered in trepidation. It was a small unused classroom; he and Draco had used it to play cards in a couple of times. Almost all the desks had been pushed against the wall, except three that had been stood end-to-end and draped in velvet, with five chairs behind them. Ludo Bagman was there, talking to a blonde witch Harry had never seen before, and he grinned at Harry's entrance. In the corner was a man with a big wizarding camera. All the other champions were there too, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. At least Harry wasn't the only one.

"There he is! Champion number four!" Bagman's gaze dropped down to Harry's badge, and he faltered. "Ha! Funny joke, there, Harry, very clever. In you come, in you come, it's nothing to worry about. Just the Wand Weighing ceremony — got to check everything is in working order before the first task. Then just a quick little interview with Ms Skeeter here, and you'll be on your way. Have you met before, Harry? This is Rita Skeeter, she's doing a little piece on the tournament for the Prophet."

Harry eyed the woman, disgust rising. This was Rita Skeeter, was it? The woman who had caused so much trouble after the cup with her articles. She was wearing lurid magenta robes, her hair done in elaborate curls and her claw-like nails painted vivid crimson, clutching a crocodile-skin purse. She was looking at Harry like she wanted to eat him alive. "Might I have a quick word with Harry before we start?" Skeeter asked, already pulling an acid green quill from her purse. "The youngest champion, you know, to add a bit of colour?" "Certainly!" Bagman agreed, but Harry shook his head.

"No, thank you." He didn't want to give Rita Skeeter anything she might be able to use against him. Both adults blinked.

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