The Fourth Unforgivable

Chapter 4:

Lestrange's Fun-in-the-Muck

Harry flew his Firebolt with one hand and worked his jaw with the other. It was sore from his recent fight with Draco. One thing had been realized, to both boys' dismay, and that was that during their final name-calling session in front of Voldemort, each had called the other by his first name quite naturally. Of course, this couldn't be born. It had led to yet another insult session during which Harry offered the polite advice to "Go finger a basilisk, Draco," in response to which Draco had immediately punched Harry in the face.

For the name thing. The basilisk suggestion actually went over quite swimmingly.

And now Harry had to cart himself over to the Lestranges' mud-wrestling ring in order to take care of Voldemort. He didn't understand why. After all, how much trouble could Voldemort get into at the Lestranges'? But Dumbledore insisted, and because Draco was a prick, Harry would have to ride his broomstick alone:

"You can just sod off, Harry!" Draco had shouted.

Harry felt the need to remind Draco that he had just used Harry's first name and therefore deserved a punch in the face.

"I am not going to that wrestling match!" Draco had fumed.

Harry felt the need to remind Draco that Dumbledore would transfigure him into something sordid if he did not go.

"I will never set foot inside that arena!" Draco had whined.

Harry felt the need to remind Draco that his father had gotten the whole family VIP passes.

"And I am NOT riding your broomstick to get there!" Draco had fretted.

Harry felt the need to remind Draco to laugh at his own double entendre.

Draco did not laugh. Draco punched Harry in the face again.

For some reason, Harry's head was hurting. So he had mentioned it to Hermione before leaving.

"Hermione, my head hurts," he complained.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure it does, Harry."

"Hermione, why do you think he hit me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I have no idea, Harry."

"Hermione, do you think he was trying to sabotage my chances in the ring?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure no one cares about your chances in the ring, Harry."

"Hermione, why haven't your eyes fallen out of your head from all that rolling?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you are an idiot, Harry."

That had seemed just a little uncalled for to Harry, but then again, he was certainly not unbiased in the matter. Besides, the condescending nature of the conversations he seemed to be having was getting old. So he had hopped on his broomstick and left.

He flew until he came within sight of a gigantic Dark Mark hovering above a low gray warehouse. There was a big pea-green blimp floating just under the mark with huge letters zipping across it:

"Lestranges' Fun-in-the-Muck... Tuesday night is family night, let the little Death Eaters stay up an hour later!... How'd you like to get your hands on a real wand? Ollivander's carries everything to satisfy your needs, so come and get a little wood!... Come one, come all, to Quality Quidditch Supplies: guaranteed to give you a rise!... Lestranges' Fun-in-the-Muck..."

When Harry landed, he was ushered in through a large door by a tall leather-clad figure. Harry wasn't sure what kind of creature it was until a feeling of steamy air spilled over him, accompanied by rather disturbing images of fuzzy hand-cuffs and house-elves slapping whips against their hands.

Harry shuddered and moved on. He really would have to speak to the Ministry about the Lestranges' personal Dementors.

He headed over to the edge of the ring, and found Ron and Ginny lounging there, waiting for him. Harry looked around, and his face fell. "Aw, Hermione's not coming?"

Ron scratched his head. "I believe her exact words were 'Gah! I'm sure I don't want to accompany you to a Death Eater's Wrestling arena in order to watch Harry roll around in the slop with that unneutered hippogriff.'"

Harry frowned. "Point taken."

"Hey, but I'm here!" Ginny broke in. She was wearing a shirt with a badly conjured cartoon of Harry trying to drown himself in mud, with the words "Potter Digs Filth" across the top. A pair of omnioculars hung from her neck, and she had pasted a very fake-looking construction paper scar to her forehead. She waved a red and gold Gryffindor flag in front of Harry's eyes. "Let the mud-coupling begin!"

"Mud wrestling, Ginny. Wrestling."

Ginny snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, whatever, Harry."

Harry surveyed the room. Wizards were filing in and taking their seats, tossing popcorn at each other and throwing minor hexes at the people across the arena. It seemed from the signs posted on the walls that Wormtail's supporters were on one side - "Rodents Wriggle Right"--and Bubba's supporters were on the other - "The Beak and Wings Make for Smutty Things."

"So... is Draco here yet?"

Ron stuck a finger in his ear. "Sorry, who?"

"Malfoy! The unneutered hippogriff!"

Ron peered at Harry as if he had just said Malfoy's first name comfortably. "No, I haven't seen him."

In truth, Draco, Malfoy, the unneutered hippogriff, or whatever you wanted to call him, was at the ring. But this was only because of the enlightening conversation he'd had with his two best cronies an hour earlier.

"Huh, who does Dumbledore think he is, trying to recruit me to stop Voldemort? Does he really believe I want to be around that useless git? The man can't even transfigure himself into a proper dungeon master."

"Uh buhhhhhhhhhh," Crabbe-the-bratwurst offered sympathetically.

"And trying to get me to hang around that lousy Gryffindor! Where does Harry get off calling me by my first name anyway? Everyone knows we hate each other."

"Duuuhhhhhhh," Goyle-the-bratwurst commented helpfully.

"Exactly what I say, Goyle." Draco paced up and down the Slytherin common room. "He can just go handle the Dark Lord himself. Goodness knows Harry needs it. What do they want me there for anyway? It's not like they won't sell out of tickets just by having The-Boy-Who-Lived as a contestant. He could damn well wrestle himself, and the house would still be packed."

"Guuuuuuuurrrrr-gle," Crabbe-the-bratwurst suggested.

"You think so, Crabbe? Huh, I never thought of it that way." Draco tapped his chin. "It would certainly be nice to whup Harry at something. Quidditch, Potions, sock-knitting... what's next? I mean, he seems to have beaten me to ultimate manhood already as well."

"A doh doh doh doh DOH!" Goyle-the-bratwurst cried angrily, bouncing up and down on the leather couch.

"Well, life's not always fair, now is it, Goyle? It wasn't fair when Pansy the Saucy Slytherin paraded into my room first year and put me off women forever. It wasn't fair when Snape made me sit and listen to his rant about Dumbledore and headmaster-professor conferences. And it's not fair that the Lestrange woman put me down as a contestant for tonight, against Harry, no less."

"Pbthbthppthbtbpthhh," Crabbe-the-bratwurst agreed sadly.

Draco sighed forlornly and felt his own forehead. "Look at me, I'm all pasty now. But no matter. I hear mud does wonders for your complexion. Hope Harry has skin trouble too, because tonight I am going to rub his head in the muck until it clears up or he dies, whichever comes first. We Slytherins have a reputation to uphold, after all. Thanks for the chat, it was very helpful as usual. Wish me luck."

Crabbe-and-Goyle-the-bratwursts wished him luck.

"Gaaaaarrrrrg!"

"Cheers, mates. You guys are real friends." And Draco hopped on his broom and zoomed out of the common room on his way to the match.

Unfortunately, the portrait hole waited to open until after he had already spread-eagled into it.

Truth be told, Draco was too late anyway: his opponent had already begun his skin treatment by the time he arrived.

Harry wiped a glop of mud from his forehead. The fight had begun and Wormtail was walloping. The rat was indeed as nimble as they come, scuttling and twisting and attempting to burrow into interesting places, but Bubba seemed to be holding his own. The huge hippogriff used his wings as a last resort, swatting the over-inquisitive rodent away from his front parts, hind parts, and any other parts.

Mud was flying everywhere, but not in big enough amounts to obscure the battle. Wizards were covered in mud and screaming their encouragement. Ginny was covered in mud and screaming her encouragement. Ron was covered in mud and screaming at his sister to stop screaming her encouragement and get the bloody hell off the ropes before she fell into the ring. Harry was covered in mud and screaming because he wished he were still a bratwurst. Draco was covered in mud and screaming because he was starting to suspect that this mud-on-the-complexion thing was a farce.

"Bloody hell, what is this crud anyway?" Draco shouted just as Wormtail lobbed a huge glob of it in his direction. He ducked, but the mud stopped in midair and fell on him anyway. Harry started to laugh, but thought better of it and closed his mouth as a splatter that had been headed past him had a second thought, turned around, and slammed itself into his face. He wiped his eyes.

"Hey, Draco... I think this is enchanted mud."

"Don't be absurd, Harry," was what Draco tried to say, except it came out sounding more like "Eeeeeeeeee!" as he unsuccessfully dodged a clump thrown by Bubba.

Harry laughed so hard he tripped and fell in the mud piling around his feet. A huge wave of the stuff decided this would be a marvelous opportunity to be animalistic, and jumped him.

"Cripes, Harry, if you wanted to role-play as a pig so much, you should have said something earlier," Draco sneered. A glob of mud that was actually giggling whizzed gleefully into his eye.

"I thought perversion of the animal genre was your department, Draco," Harry shot back, struggling up from the muck.

Draco ground his teeth. "That should be obvious by now, and for the last time, don't call me that!"

"Excuse me, I did not quite hear you, Draco, there is mud in my ear," Harry sniffed.

Draco gave a shout of anger, pounced, and began throttling Harry. The mud gave a shout of glee, pounced, and began throttling both of them. Ginny gave a shout of absolute ecstasy, got a lump of mud in the mouth for her trouble, tried to pounce, got tangled up in the ropes, and squashed her brother. When she got her mouth cleared out she screamed, "Potter-Malfoy-mud-fiiiiiiiiight!!!"

The crowd roared and turned its attention to the tussle outside the ring, lobbing the mud that coated them back at the two boys. Wormtail and Bubba looked at each other and slogged over to the edge of the ring to see who had stolen their thunder. Bellatrix Lestrange had a near hernia, so overjoyed was she at the beautiful sight.

"Holy mother of muck, thank you!!" she cried, waving her muddied arms about. She grabbed the nearest bouncer, a Death Eater who resembled Crabbe-the-bratwurst, especially now that Crabbe was a bratwurst, and shook him. "Hurry! Hurry! For the love of muck, get them into the mucking ring!"

Uh buhhhhhhhhhh Sr. looked stupidly at her. "Mehhhhhh?"

Bellatrix Lestrange glared. "Oh, mucking hell, forget it! I'll do it the muck myself. Wingardium-mucking-Leviosa!"

With a wave of her wand, Harry, Draco, and the mud all lifted up, sailed over a hyperventilating Ginny and the ropes she was still trying to extricate herself from, and splatted down into the ring. Neither the boys nor the mud noticed. Draco was somewhat preoccupied by the fact that Harry suddenly seemed to really want this ridiculous skin treatment. Harry was somewhat preoccupied by the fact that the world was suddenly very brown and lacking in oxygen. The mud was somewhat preoccupied by the fact that a boy's face was suddenly being ground into the area of its abdomen.

Bellatrix Lestrange was not preoccupied. "Ladies and Gentlemen, your attention please! I have the pleasure to inform you that our next two contestants have arrived. Let me introduce Draco Malfoy, only son of the most brown-nosed Death Eater known to man, and his opponent, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Mucking-Lived!"

That got Harry's, Draco's, and the mud's attention.

Harry sat up and spluttered mud. "Whazzat?"

Draco sat up and blinked his eyes. "Que pasa?"

The mud tried to sit up, realized that was not in its job description, and promptly glomped them both.

Bellatrix Lestrange grinned at them through the mud caked on her skin. "Oh, muck it, boys. It's all in good fun, right?"

Harry and Draco jumped up and started yelling at no one in particular, flinging the mud in all directions. They were drowned out by the wizards in the bleachers, who began to chant "Muck-it! Muck-it! Muck-it!"

Draco tried his best to glare, but he was hampered by the antics of the sludge. It was retaliating for his slinging of itself by slinging itself at him left and right. "Oh, honestly! Harry, help me out here, I think this stuff wants something from me."

Harry tapped his arm. "Uh, Draco, I think we have bigger problems."

He pointed to a mud-covered figure pushing his way through the leather-clad Dementors toward Bellatrix. It was Voldemort. The Dark Lord began yelling at his Fun-in-the-Muck-owning Death Eater, gesticulating wildly at the two boys in the ring. Little snatches floated down to their ears.

"...thought I could at least be alone here... don't see why.... suppose you invited their Headmaster as well... want them dead... I'm feeling vulnerable right now so if you could just..."

Bellatrix grabbed Voldemort, kissed him full on the lips, spit the mud out, and cried, "That's a mucking splendid idea, your worship! I love how you think these things up."

Turning to the ring, she cupped her hands around her mouth. "Alrighty then! The Dark Lord wants a tussle... Let's up the mucking ante!"

Harry watched as Bellatrix signaled someone wildly with her hands. He followed with his eyes to whomever she was signaling to. He blinked. He took a second to comprehend. He took another second for denial. He took a third second to reorient himself to the terrible truth. He realized he'd been taking too long and began to tug on Draco's sleeve.

Draco had long since gotten bored with the simpering and whining of Voldemort, and was peering through the crowd. His eyes came to rest on two little mud-splattered bratwursts flipping a green Slytherin flag between them. "Oh, splendid! They made it.... What is it Harry? Can't you see I'm... oh, god."

Understandable. For they were being approached by a leering mud-covered rodent and a swaggering mud-covered hippogriff.

Draco clutched Harry's arm. "Smutty things... smutty th... Do something, Harry, he's definitely not neutered!"

Harry was more worried about the rat. He remembered the pamphlet full of Wormtail's best wrestling moves. That long tail was beginning to look incredibly unsettling. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking..."

Ginny's voice sounded over the deafening roar of the crowd. "Yeeeaaahhhh, Potter slings filth! Filth!"

"Uh," Harry stammered, watching the two animals approach, "I have an idea, but I don't know if you want to try it...."

Draco whimpered from his hiding place behind Harry. "Anything, Harry, anything. I'd rather be dead than submit to that."

Harry signaled his agreement and began to outline the plan. The other boy listened intently, and then nodded.

"Okay, let's give it a go."

The two boys stood side by side in the mud, pulled their wands from their robes, and waved them once intricately in front of their faces. Both intoned together, "We willfully wish we had never been born!"

There was a bang, a flash of white light, and a lusty wail from the mud. Suddenly Harry, Draco, and the mud were no longer in Lestrange's Fun-in-the-Muck. They were standing in a white padded room with no visible doors or windows. Harry looked around. "Um...."

A cheery laugh boomed from behind them. They spun and came face to face with a man with tousled blonde hair, wearing a ridiculously oversized strait-jacket, and beaming an exceptionally winning smile.

"Hello, boys, so good to see you again! Am I right in surmising that you have used the Oh-Bugger-I'm-Nonexistentus spell? Ahahahahaha, of course I'm right. I'm always right. Well then, let's get started, shall we? You two have officially never been born, much to the chagrin of every unsatisfied housewife in England. I have exactly one chapter to help you decide to reverse the charm so that this fic can go on. I will be leading you through the wizarding world, and you will see, thanks to my various top-secret skills with a wand, what has become of the world without either of you in it."

Draco groaned, wheeled back, and punched Harry in the face again.

Understandable. For their guide was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart.