Harry Potter and the Goblet of Firewhiskey

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Firewhiskey

By Aerie22

Chapter One

Death and Transfiguration

Harry sat pondering his summer transfiguration assignment. He lined up the beetles as best he could and raised his wand, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

"Commutare Mus," he said, enunciating as clearly as he could. He looked down at the card table that served as his desk. There was no mouse. There were no beetles. He blinked in surprise. What happened?

Suddenly a beetle landed on his nose. With crossed eyes, he peered down his nose at the offending creature. "Bugger," he muttered at the bug.

He spent the next ten minutes collecting the other four beetles from around the room and tried to line them up again. He shook his head. The ward around the house shielding any underage magic he might do at Number 4 Privet Drive from the watchful eyes of the bureaucrats at the Ministry of Magic would hold probably for another fifteen minutes. If he couldn't transfigure the five beetles into a single mouse on the next attempt, he'd have to go back to the crumpled piece of parchment Professor Dumbledore gave him with the hastily scribbled and nearly illegible series of charms he had to use to reinstall the wards. He shook his head sadly. Why couldn't McGonagall have given him the instructions. At least her penmanship was readable. And she could spell.

Once he found the parchment, he would then have to duck under the thick and heavy charm-blocker blanket that Molly Weasley knitted for him to start installing the charms. He cringed at the thought of Dudley passing and seeing him covered with a lavender blanket with little pink hearts and cupids, each charmed to recite "The 10 Rules for Being a Successful Son-in-Law." Then he would have to use the special, untraceable wand that Ron bought for him, which carried the heart-felt inscription: 'To Harry, From Ron--You Really Are My Brother _ _ - _ _ _.' And he would have to make sure he put the special untraceable wand back in the special secret untraceable holster that Ginny had given him, which carried the inscription: 'To Harry, My Friend, Who I Got Over a Long Time Ago But Wouldn't Say No to If He Was Interested in a Little Hookie-Dookie.'

It was all too much. He looked at the broken alarm clock on the table and muttered under his breath. It was already 3:15 in the afternoon and he had promised himself he would set aside the time between 3:00 and 4:00 for some angry brooding. 'Nothing was going right,' he brooded angrily.

He sighed and lurched to collect one of the beetles that was renewing its attempt to make a clean (if that is an appropriate word for an insect) getaway when he heard an earsplitting scream from down stairs.

It could be only one thing, he thought: An attack by Death Eaters...or...er...make that, it could be one of two things, and attack by Death Eaters, or Fred and George...uhhh...oh, should that be three things?

Harry lurched, knocking his Transfiguration text on top of the bugs. 'Well,' he thought. 'Once I take care of the Death Eaters, or Fred and George, I can come back and transfigure the squashed bugs into a squashed mouse.'

'Unless, of course, I am arrested by the Ministry of Magic.' After all, he had discovered last summer that failing to be murdered is a criminal offense in the wizarding world. An even worse offense than blowing up Aunt Marge.

Harry raced, wand in hand, down the steps to confront whatever evil, or Weasley, presence that had disturbed the domestic tranquility of Number 4 Privet Drive.

Unfortunately, Dudley Dursley, being too shocked and appalled by the vision confronting him, had dropped his tumbler of lemonade in the stairwell, which Harry stepped on, becoming a tumbler himself. He landed on his butt at the feet of a young woman dressed entirely in black with spiky black hair with orange streaks and numerous piercings in inappropriate places on her body.

Harry blinked. "Tonks?" he said, refraining from rubbing his bruised backside until a more opportune moment presented itself.

"Hi, Harry."

Dudley, realizing the specter before him was a woman who could actually speak, rapidly regained his composure. "A Goth witch? Cool."

Tonks raised her wand to Aunt Petunia, who was continuing to wail in terror like an air raid siren. Tonks held her wand to the right side and swept it over her head, past vertical until it was now nearly parallel to the ground on her left side. As she did this, Petunia's wails slowly lowered in volume until they were barely audible.

Harry blinked. "I wish I could do that," he said quietly.

"Me, too," said Dudley, still staring at the young female Auror, increasingly impressed.

Tonks shrugged. "It's just a Sonus Moderari charm. You'll probably learn it this year, Harry. I find it works equally well with the Muggle tele...at least, when you can't find the remote."

Uncle Vernon was turning a dangerous purple color. Finally, he could contain himself no longer. "Boy!!! What's this!!! Another of your weirdo friends!!! I thought I told you never to bring them around here!!!"

Harry stared at his uncle. "I...I...I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Who's talking to you, boy!" Vernon screamed, snapping his head in Harry's direction, before turning back to his son. "Dudley! Answer me! Is this another of your weirdo friends!?!" Vernon shouted.

"No, dad. It's another one of Harry's weirdo friends," Dudley stammered.

"Oh," Vernon said with a frown. Then, remembering 'Mad-Eye' Moody's warning to him at the train station, Vernon nodded. "Well, that's different. Harry, are you going to introduce your friend to us?" Vernon said with a frightened smile and just a hint of pent-up steam coming out of his ears.

Harry blinked. "Ah...This is a friend of mine," he said formally. "May I present Nymphadora Tonks."

Dudley stared, goggle-eyed. "Are you really a nympho? Man, I've got to get into this wizarding stuff."

Tonks turned to Dudley and, in her annoyance at the mention of her hated first name, accidentally transformed her cute little button nose into a long elegant aquiline nose, raising an even deeper sigh from Dudley. "Can you do that with other parts of your body? Like grow them? Or help grow parts of other people's bodies? I've tried all those plans and pills and stuff promising an extra three to five inches from all those email messages I keep getting on the 'net, but they are such a load of..."

"DUDLEY!!!" Aunt Petunia screamed, overcoming Tonks's muting charm.

"I don't mean to be a bother," Tonks said. "I just stopped by to see if Harry had a free moment. I was wondering if I could whisk him away to a place from which he will never be seen or heard from again."

Vernon scowled for a moment. "That depends. Harry? Did you make your bed?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Did you clean your room?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Did you mow the lawn?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Did you paint the house?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Did you replace the transmission on the new Jaguar?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Did you...oh, I guess that was all the chores on your to-do list for this morning," Harry's uncle said with a frown.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Uncle Vernon nodded. "Very good," he said and then turned to Tonks. "Will we ever see him again?"

Tonks paused and pondered. "You mean in this lifetime?"

Vernon shrugged. "I guess."

"No," Tonks responded.

Vernon nodded. "Very well, Harry. You are excused."

"Gee, thanks, Uncle Vernon," Harry said.

Tonks summoned all of Harry's worldly possessions with a wave of her wand.

"Wait!" Aunt Petunia screamed. "Not out the front door! You'll be seen!"

Tonks paused, startled. "Oh, Mrs. Dursley. I wouldn't worry about it. You see, for the past fifteen years, people in the wizarding world have been buying up and moving into the houses in Little Whinging in order to keep a protective eye on Harry. I do believe that you are now the only Muggles living in town. Except of course, for Arabella Figg. She's a squib, but that's almost like being a Muggle, now isn't it?"

Aunt Petunia stared at her, wide-eyed.

Tonks gave her a sympathetic look. "Oh, don't worry. They are all very nice people. They would never be so impolite as to mention, or even notice, that you are not normal, even though, of course, you aren't. At least around here."

With that, Tonks led Harry out the front door, waving at all the witches and wizards from the neighborhood who had gathered to see Harry off. "It's okay," she called out to them. "I told the Dursleys."

There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief. Suddenly wands came out and the crowd began taking down the shields and wards.

And now, Number 4 Privet Drive, a tasteful, two-story, four-bedroom suburban home found itself in the Little Whinging version of Diagon Alley, wedged hard-up against Zonkos' Joke Emporium--South on one side, and Kritters 'R' Us--For All Your Exotic Animal and Flesh Eating Plant Needs on the other.

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[A/N: Phew! One chapter down, 99 to go.]