It's Hard to be Perky when You're a Malfoy

They are the Champions

So, the cake exploding prank (when I showed this to Lione and she saw the huge skip I'd made from the cliff-hanger about the Hogwarts Champion to explaining this she hit me over the head with her transfiguration text book. And she was there! But trust me, it's going to be (or rather it was) the last person you'd expect). That idea came to us while we were in the kitchens getting Joseph his cookies. We saw all the big cakes ready for the feast the next day and thought 'wouldn't it be brilliant if they exploded over everyone'. I know that's an extremely odd thought to have but I suppose we were extremely odd people.

After I'd dropped my name in the Goblet of Fire we shook off Melanie and headed for the prankster room. Have I mentioned that yet? The prankster room is my favourite room in the whole world. It's hidden in the depths of the school and can only be found if you have the right instructions, which we found in our first year. It's filled with creations from generations of pranksters for all sorts of mischief making. We even added a few things ourselves. That's why Lione and Gregory (and possibly even Joseph) loved it. I loved it because there's this brass plaque at the far end and on it are all the names of the pranksters that have ever been at Hogwarts ever. Or at least the only ones who ever found the prankster room. Our names were right at the bottom (mine has a little smiley face next to it).

I know that plaque off by heart and every time we go there I immediately read it again. When we went back that day I was re-read the plaque while Joseph, Lione and Gregory sifted through the various pranks for something appropriate. Eventually they found cherry bombs; little bombs that look like cherries. We snuck back to the kitchens and put them on all of the cakes. The bombs came with the little controller that meant we could set them off exactly when we wanted to. We made the wise decision to avoid the cake meant for the teacher's table then headed back upstairs to be met by Melanie and receive our self-defence class.

After the feast (this is where Melanie joined in and tried to hit me with Lione's Guitar) we were walking out of the hall when Joseph grabbed my hand and dragged me away towards the kitchens (a direction I was very familiar with by that time).

"Come on," he said. "We've got to get some food. Celebrate!"

"Don't you mind?" I asked as we hurried along.

"What? About you not being champion?" Nope, it wasn't me... "Of course I'm upset; for you. I'm just glad it's a Gryffindor. And we're bound to have a party and who's going to provide the drinks if not us?"

"No," I said. "I meant about Jack being champion for Durmstrung."

"Oh that," he said. "I'm fine with it. I'm great with it! It's perfect."

Someone seriously needs to have a chat with him.

The House elves barely noticed us as we entered - they were obviously getting used to us. They'd probably have been more shocked if we didn't go every few hours. When we got back to Gryffindor tower the party was in full swing. We were soon relieved of our gifts and found Lione and Gregory sitting a little away from the main crowd looking utterly depressed.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "It's a party, you're supposed to be having a good time and... you're kind of... not."

Gregory grunted.

"Okaaaay," said Joseph. "Lione, what's up with you?"

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "I think Gregory's bad mood is infectious..."

"Of course I'm in a bad mood!" Gregory exploded. "It should have been Lucy. She understands the duty and how it's a gift that has been given to her and her alone rather than other more deserving students-"

"Of course I know," I interrupted. "You've been giving me that exact same rant for months."

"Or Laura," Gregory continued, ignoring me, "Whose Dad was not only Champion for Hogwarts when he was here but was also the one and only famous Harry Potter!"

"Last time I checked he still is," Lione pointed out.

"It should have been someone great! Someone brilliant! Someone fantastic! Instead it's," he said the last word with utter revoltion, "him."

It had been a night to remember.

"And finally," Dumbledore had said softly. He snatched up the piece of paper depositing by the shoot of flame. He looked at it carefully and glanced up at the rest of the hall. Everybody, and I mean everybody, was on the edge of his or her seat. We were hanging on Dumbledore's every word. "The champion for Hogwarts..." It was so tense you could have played the entire school like a violin. "Will be... Arry Shunpike."

The whole of Gryffindor house went wild - you could hardly hear yourself think for all the shouting, whistling, clapping and banging on the tables. Yet somehow a single voice had managed to ring out through the hall and silence everyone.

"'Arry?" it said in a French accent. "What kind of name iz 'Arry."

There was an all round rush of intake air Arry had walked straight up to the Beauxbatons girl in question, placed his palms face down on her table and looked her right in the face.

"'Ow can it be odd?" he asked. "If that is 'ow you pronounce it?"

She had a stunned expression on her face as he walked away into the side chamber and every single Hogwarts student (including the Slytherins) sniggered.

"I'm telling you, they're going up against a troll!"

"They wouldn't do that."

"They are I saw them!"

"Them?"

"Three trolls- no! F- Six!

"Six trolls?"

"I'm glad I'm not Champion now."

"There are no trolls!"

"'Course there aren't. It's Dragons, isn't it?"

"Don't be stupid. That's what Harry Potter faced in his first task when he was Hogwarts Champion in his fourth year. They don't repeat the tasks, besides no one could ever match his performance. You know he summoned his broomstick to the field and flew around the Dragon's head like a fly-"

"WE KNOW!"

"Will you shut up about Harry Potter for crying out loud? Or something nasty will happen to you involving an axe, a light bulb and a small cumquat."

"I'm just saying you should be thankful to Harry Potter that anyone from our year got to enter at all. It was because he proved that 14 year olds were old enough that we got a fighting chance, although not all of us. Apparently even a matter of months on your age counts. I can't believe that after the famous Harry Potter himself proved that people below the limit could do it that they would still only consider the age rather than-"

"I think it'll have something to do with forks."

Everyone, including Gregory, stopped in their tracks and stared at Samuel - who had just come out with that.

"What?" we chorused.

"Forks," Samuel repeated. "I'm certain I heard one of the teachers talk about them."

"Are you sure he wasn't talking about dinner?"

"Pretty sure."

"That's sillier than the trolls."

Lione smiled. "I think we all need another Butterbeer."

Lione and I went to the Three Broomsticks' bar and got some more drinks. When we got back they'd moved on.

"No, I'm telling you. They're going to drop a fifty ton weight right on their heads and they have to use magic to deflect it.

The speculation for the first task continued for weeks and the theories got wilder.

"They're gonna face Mallets," I overheard on the way to potions.

"Mallets?"

"Huge ones!"

And,

"-so then they get bitten by the Tutsi fly and they have to find a remedy for it."

"Don't be stupid, they're not going to poison them."

"Haven't you heard about the death toll?"

And,

"What they're going to do is release a whole load of raving Benbas."

"They wouldn't do that?" Lione asked worriedly. "Would they?"

"Oh yes," teased Gregory. "There's this big cage in the grounds. They'll open it up and set loose two hundred Benbas gorged on Unicorn's blood and they'll start ripping people to pieces."

"And then," added Joseph in the same hushed, horrifying voice (Lione by now had her eyes so wide in terror I was afraid her eyeballs would fall out of their sockets. Ew...). "They get really nasty and release the dentists."

Lione laughed and Gregory scowled.

"I've changed my mind," said Samuel, joining us. "It was porks. Not forks."

No one had any idea what was going on until we sat down in the stands surrounding the grounds for the first task. There was what looked like a long tunnel except with no ceiling so we could see inside. All along the sides on the inside, leaving a sort of zigzag shape clear, were sharp looking silver circular blades. At one end was a very very tall pedestal with something on top of it.

"Is it me," said Lione in a slightly confused tone as if hoping that it was just her. "Or is that a spatula?"

"Not a fork?"

"No."

"Or a pork?"

"Nope."

"Then I guess it must be a spatula."

"Oh yes," said Joseph, frowning. "Of course it's a spatula. Why not a spatula? What would we do if there wasn't a spatula there?"

"Calm down Joseph, you're beginning to sound like Lucy."

"What do you think they've got to do?"

"Get the spatula I suppose."

"Lucky mugs, I wish I had a spatula."

"Joseph, I think the stress of having your cousin here is sending you quietly mad."

"Oh that's good, just so long as I'm not bothering anyone."

"Do you think they have to avoid the blades?"

"No, I think they have to walk through them."

"Shut up, Joseph."

"I'm sorry; I'm a bit off today. Trelawny predicted my death again yesterday."

"What was it this time? Trampled by hippogriffs?"

"Drowning?"

"Lione doing something interesting to you involving a pomegranate, a hairbrush and a wet haddock?"

"Attacked by dentists?"

"Stabbed in the back by a friend, apparently."

"Oh, so it is the wet haddock."

"Ooh look, here comes 'Arry!"

'Arry entered the arena to deafening applause as every single Hogwarts pupil jumped to his or her feet and cheered him on.

"'Arry takes Divination," Joseph remarked mildly as we took our seats again. "I wonder what Trelawny predicted for him..."

Lione was avoiding looking at Joseph now and her shoulders were silently shaking.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the first task of the tri-wizard tournament!" declared a loud female voice. Gregory groaned in automatic parent embarrassment mode. Lione snorted laughter then tried to look innocent when everyone looked at her.

"The champions," Mrs Weasley continued, "have to get through the tunnel and reach the item on the other side. Points may be lost if the champion goes round, over or under the tunnel. By the way that is a spatula at the end. Since all the champions are male and most likely unfamiliar with kitchen utensils I just thought I'd point that out." All the girls in the crowd sniggered. "So, without further ado, I present to you, your Hogwarts Champion, Arry Shunpike!"

Everyone cheered again and Arry waved.

"And start... now!" The circular saws started moving.

Arry strode forward and waved his wand over the grass. "Ros!"

He took a few steps back diagonally then ran forward and skidded on the now wet grass. Everyone gasped as he headed straight towards the spinning saw but he grabbed the edge of the wall and stopped, leaning against the wall opposite the first saw. He edged his way along so he was between the two saws, turned, aimed and pushed off. Just like a ball in a pinball machine he slid in a zigzag pushing off all the walls getting through the tunnel really quickly. There were a few close calls where he'd have to spin mid-slide to stop himself from grazing the saws, and once he was all the way through he couldn't stop himself in time and went careening into the pedestal. But then he levitated up, snatched the spatula and held it high in triumph.

Everyone watched eagerly for the judges to make their decisions. Little silvery fish flew out of Mrs Weasley's wand and into the shape of a nine. There were huge cheers and I tried not to laugh as I noticed that all the third year Gryffindors were simultaneously nodding with approval. Mr Turk made a streamer spell out eight which got another nod. Aranov's seven got a frown and Madam Maxime's six made Robert say,

"Is it me or are these getting lower?"

And Gregory mutter, "Cheats."

Dumbledore's nine only brought minor cheers as everyone started adding it up in their heads and on their fingers. I saw Robin go to congratulate Arry as he walked off. A couple of teachers moved forward to dry the grass and place a whisk on top of the pedestal.

"The Durmstrung champion, Jack Bower!"

All the Durmstrung pupils, and a few of the female pupils from the other two schools, cheered. Jack stood dramatically, feet apart with both arms pointing towards the tunnel. He flung his wand out and sent the spell without saying a word. There was a huge crash and a lot of smoke and suddenly Jack was standing in front of a tunnel with no spinning saws. They were lying in shatters on the floor. There was another huge cheer as everyone realised exactly what he'd done. He'd blasted them all.

"Joseph," breathed Lione, deeply impressed. "You never told us your cousin was so powerful."

"Don't look at me," Joseph replied. "I didn't know he was a wizard."

Jack, with a very smug smile, strutted through the tunnel. Everyone started chatting excitedly with each other and everyone heard the person, I'm not sure who, gasp loudly (which is quite impressive really, gasping loud enough for a whole arena full of people to hear you. It's really hard). Everyone looked up to see the shards flying through the air and reconnecting into circular saws all around the oblivious Jack who even swatted one of the fragments as it flew in front of his eyes and only noticed when one of the saws fully reformed behind him and started whirring again. Jack turned to stare at it, a look of horror on his face. He juddered backwards as a shard clipped his forehead and flung himself away from the spinning saw forming right next to him but not quickly enough because he was clutching his arm as he lay panting against the wall. Joseph jumped to his feet, concerned. Wincing with pain, Jack lifted his wand and pointed it at the saws blocking his way and shouted,

"Discutere!"

The spinning disks were blasted away like before. Jack appeared to take a deep breath and ran towards the pedestal. By this time Joseph was moving along our line, trying to get to the bottom of the stands. Lione, Gregory and I followed him. Jack pointed his wand upwards and called,

"Accio Whisk!"

The whisk flew into his hands and the crowd cheered. I noticed Melanie give a triumphant laugh. Joseph noticed too and gave her a dirty look. We jumped out of the stands and followed Jack as he was led away to a medical tent.

"I don't need you telling me I could have been killed," said Jack as Madam Pomfrey examined his forehead.

"You could have been killed!" Joseph exclaimed anyway.

"Was that not the coolest spell you have ever seen," Jack continued, staring dreamily into space.

"Are you all right?" Lione asked, concerned.

He smiled at her. "All in a day's work." She backed away. He jumped to his feet. "I'm going to get my score."

"Where do you think you're going?" Madam Pomfrey demanded.

Jack bowed low with a barely concealed gasp of pain from putting pressure on the arm clutched to his chest. "Madam," he said. "Worry not, I shall return momentarily." He ran outside.

Gregory, Lione and I exchanged concerned looks while Joseph put his face in his palms and shook his head. We went outside to see his score. Four from Mrs Weasley.

"Doesn't approve of the danger," I suggested.

Ten from Turk. "Impressed by the advanced Magic," Lione put in.

Ten from Aranov. "Favouritism," Gregory grunted,

Ten from Madam Maxime. "Impressed by his flair," Joseph spat.

Five from Dumbledore. "Injuries," we chorused.

There were cheers from the crowd and Jack stood around waving and blowing kisses with his good arm for a while before returning to the medical tent. We made to follow but after Joseph muttered something about wishing he could chop off both of Jack's arms we decided to stay outside to watch the Beauxbatons student take his turn. He had to get a Spork.

Like Jack he cast his spell on the blades except instead of blasting them away he turned them to paper. They still spun and kept their shape but the dangerous tunnel started to look more like a child's school project. Phillip ran and burst through them like a game show contestant. After he summoned the Spork, he punched the air and took in the cheers but paused after one of the Beauxbatons girls let out a little screamlet. Looking down at himself he realised he was covered in blood. Turning around to look at the tunnel he saw that the last few broken blades were also tinged with blood. He suddenly burst out laughing and wandered over to the medical tent. As he passed us he smiled at me and said, with a shrug,

"Paper cuts."

He got six from Mrs Weasley, ten from Turk, eight from Aranov, eight from Maxime and seven from Dumbledore leaving him with a total of thirty-nine. Just like Arry and Jack.

"A three-way tie," I said. "Has that ever happened before?"

"Do you know how many times they've held this thing?" said Joseph. "Everything has happened."

"I suppose it hangs on the next round then," I commentated.

"No chance," said Lione. "Everything could change come third round. It's not over till the fat lady sings."

"What fat lady?"

"That's not exactly true," said Gregory. "I mean Harry Potter and the other Hogwarts champion came top in the second round and they were the ones who-"

"SHUT UP!!"