Invisibility Cloak
Group: Formidable Ferret
Posts: 1726
Joined: 30-October 03
From: Worcester MA.
Member No.: 10
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Yellow Robes
Cedric Diggory had just been patted on the back by every single Hufflepuff in the school. Professor Sprout had apparently thought that making him walk a gauntlet of congratulatory House Members would boost his confidence. In actuality, it had rather given him a bruised back and a rather intense rush of ingratitude towards Sprout.
“Forget letting her win the staff betting pool,” he thought vindictively, trying to shrug his robes into a position that didn’t chafe, before realizing that if he made her lose, so would he.
“Cedric, dear,” said Sprout, advancing between the rows of smiling Hufflepuffs, “I need a quick word before we all go to the stands.”
He did not want a quick word with her, afraid that the resulting Professorcide might disqualify him.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he said, as politely as he could, “but I’ve got to get down first. We’re to meet Bagman at the tents to be given the task and all.”
“Good luck!” chorused a three of first years, before being thwapped over their hats be a prefect.
Cedric winced. “I’m thankful for this chance to bring honor upon my school” he said, “and I hope, in the process, that I can do my House proud, so that there will be much rejoicing.”
One of the thwapped first years gave a weak and rather unenthusiastic “yay.”
He gave his house a polite nod, patted his pocket to be sure he had his wand and turned to go.
“Cedric, wait!” shouted Sprout, trying to push her way through the students, “I want to –”
Seeing Cedric’s wince, the Prefect thought it was a perfect time to give the signal.
All the first years under his power gave a tremendous shout of “Break a leg!” and in the ensuing chaos of shouting, Cedric finally managed to leave his Common Room.
“Meet with Bagman on the lawn after breakfast,” he thought to himself. “Curse Sprout, I’ve missed breakfast.”
Straightening the high starched color of the uncomfortable robes his mother had insisted he wear, he hurried towards the grounds. Passing a particularly vigorously polished suit of armor, he checked his reflection.
His hair was neat, but he was unconcerned with that, mainly hoping to find some last minute way of diminishing the horrific effect of his robes. They were true Hufflepuff yellow, with black trim and fixings.
“Bother,” he muttered to himself, deciding that trying to Curse the flashy gold embroidered Badger from his black sash was a bad idea. “Bother and blast.”
A metallic clang rang through the castle. Half an hour past. He had ten minutes to get to the tent in time. Not enough to somehow bypass his house to find a change of robes that weren’t quite as flashy but still formal enough for the competition.
Hearing someone approach, he quickly turned away from the suit of armor and walked on towards the grounds, lest someone accuse him of primping.
“Cedric, wait!” called a voice.
He turned, seeing Cho running towards him. He quickly plastered an easy grin over his face to hide his vexation. “Chang.”
She rushed up to him and gave him a hug. Startled he didn’t have time to return it before she jumped back in embarrassment. “Good luck!”
Cedric winced.
She started, and then gave a nervous giggle behind her hand. “I mean break a leg.”
He laughed at her and teased, “You’d say the same thing if it were Corner or Davies, wouldn’t you?”
She shook her head with a grin, her black whipping about. “They’re not half as good-looking as you.”
He gave her a mock scowl and shook a finger at her. “You’re just trying to make me lose focus and do something stupid so you can win a bet on Viktor Krum.”
“I did not bet on him,” she protested. “He’s the Durmstrang champion.”
“Doesn’t stop some people,” he muttered, before asking, “whom did you bet on?”
She gave him a shifty look. “It wouldn’t be quite fair to tell you, but…”
“What?” he pressed.
“It’s supposed to be a secret,” she whispered, “but I overheard Sprout this morning, telling Hagrid that it wasn’t fair to expect the students to have a flute around. So my bet is that it’s a Cerberus.”
She dug about in her robes, before handing him a small wooden recorder. “Here,” she said. “Take that.”
“But the rules,” he protested. “It has to be against the rules!”
She gave him an exasperated look. “It’s only a chance you’ll need it, and nobody can prove you weren’t just carrying it around.”
“How many people do you think will believe I just happened to have a flute in the pocket of my dress robes?” he asked.
“Fine,” she snapped, taking it back, “waste time conjuring your own.”
“I’m trying to do Hogwarts proud,” he said, catching her by the elbow before she could leave, “we’re only supposed to have our wands with us. Cheeting and getting me disqualified isn’t a good idea.”
She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” she said shaking his elbow off, before giving him a conciliatory smile. “I’ll be in the stands.”
“Don’t cheer too loud for Krum,” he teased, chucking her under the chin. “It’d bad for my ego.”
“Right,” she shot back, “and don’t stair too long at the French girl or you might lose your head. Literally.”
She gave a little wave and disappeared ‘round the corner.
“Cerberus,” he thought to himself. “Bother it all, I was sure it’d be a Dragon…”
Realizing he probably only had about five minutes to get to the tent in time, he hurried out onto the grounds, taking a circuitous rout to avoid students (especially of his own house) heading towards the stands.
Unfortunately, this involved crossing perilously close to the lake and nearly getting the back of his heel bitten off when he stepped on a Dugbog. “Blast,” he muttered, hopping a bit on the other foot, and nearly slipping on the muddy bank. “Why did I ever think this was a good idea?”
Limping slightly, he reached the tent, casting a quick “Scourgify,” on his boots to get rid of the residual mud.
The other two champions and Bagman were waiting for him. Fleur was sitting with her legs crossed, wearing a rather tight blue athletic robe. Krum was sulking in the back, scowling and looking as drab as he always did on the ground.
Bagman, on the other hand was bouncing on his heals in excitement, wearing the brightest yellow and black striped robes Cedric had ever seen. From his excitement, one would think he were the champion.
“You iz hurt your foot?” asked Fleur looking up.
“You haff hurt your foot,” Krum corrected her.
Bagman laughed a twittery laugh. “Did you?”
Cedric wondered exactly how sinking into the earth with embarrassment was done, and whether it would hurt more than Apparition. “Stepped on a Dugbog,” he muttered to the floor.
Krum looked puzzled. Fleur shot a string of what sounded vaguely like Greek at him and he nodded slowly. Cedric looked at Bagman nervously. He just waved a hand and said, “Scientific names, don’t you know. “
Fleur cleared her throat.
“Oh, yes, yes,” said Bagman, “First Task and all.”
Krum nodded impatiently.
“Your task is too…” announced Ludo dramatically, “bring back the box!”
“I haff not taken a box,” protested Krum. “Vat box?”
“No, no, no,” said Bagman, bouncing on his heels, “in the arena is a small wooden chest you are to retrieve without harming the creature that guards it!”
“Iz ze creature known to us before we iz going in?” asked Fleur, giving Ludo a flattering smile and fluttering her eyelashes.
Krum and Cedric exchanged slightly ill looks.
Bagman tittered. “That’s why I’m here! To give you the choice!” He pulled out a cloth bag with an elaborate flourish and offering it to Fleur. “Ladies first!”
Fleur reached in and pulled out a small statuette of a Manticore. “I zought so,” she said resignedly, stepping back to let the others take theirs.
Cedric brightened, feeling a little better that he had not had a few minutes advance knowledge to feel guilty about after all. Krum took advantage of his momentary distraction to take his turn at the bag, pulling the figure of a Runespore which immediately wrapped itself around his wrist.
“Should not be difficult,” said Krum with a shrug, shuffling off to the entry of the tent. “It vill be fighting itzelf anyway.”
Cedric resignedly took the last figuring that Ludo shook out of the bag into his hand. He stared at it nonplussed. “A kitten?” he asked, horrified. “Is this some sort of joke?”
Fleur gave a musical laugh and tossed a strand of silvery hair over her shoulder, giving her Manticore a pat on the head.
Krum gave a rumbling dark laugh. “Hav they gone mad?” he asked.
“No, no, it’s just a clue!” said Bagman cheerily. “Come outside, my lad, they’ve decided that the hosting school’s champion goes first, followed by the lady, and then you.”
Fleur and Krum nodded, with resigned sighs and sat down on opposite sides of the tent.
Cedric confusedly followed Bagman out of the tent and towards the Arena. They had hardly passed hearing distance from the tent, when Bagman turned to stop him. “Cedric, my lad,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder, “I want to wish you good luck.”
Cedric winced.
“England’s champ, after all,” Ludo went on, oblivious. “The kitten, yes, well, the judges may have been a bit too obscure there.”
“You said it was what we were going to face,” protested Cedric, a bit confused and upset.
“Yes, yes,” said Bagman, “but I never said it would be all you were going to face. Think about it…”
Cedric nodded. “I see.”
“It’s not quite fair to you, letting you go in there not quite knowing, but Madame Maxime insisted it was obvious that if you had a kitten, you’d find a – ”
“Mr. Bagman,” interrupted Cedric, “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Please don’t give it away.”
Ludo gave a little shrug. “Just remember, Cedric, when the cat’s away, the mice will play, the cat’s out of the bag and it’s raining cats and dogs.”
Cedric’s eyes widened slightly as he gave a nervous nod, wondering whether Bagman was quite sane or not, and if the billywig pinned to his hat had anything to do with it.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bagman. “Cat got your tongue?”
Cedric shook his head and started walking quickly, hoping that if they got close enough to the stadium to be overheard Bagman would stop confusing him.
“Really, it’s nothing to worry about,” said Bagman, “You understand, catastrophe can be avoided, we don’t want our champions catatonic. They key to avoiding [c]cat[/I]aclysm is to remember never to rub them the wrong way.”
“I knew it,” Cedric thought to himself, “yellow robes make people mental.”
“Well, good luck,” said Bagman, patting Cedric on the back once they’d reached the stadium.
Cedric winced.
Taking no notice, Bagman gave him a half shrug into the arena, as he popped via portkey to the top box.
“Bother,” muttered Cedric, squinting against the sun which was directly in his eyes. “Why, oh why did I think this was a good idea?”
Feeling distinctly like an idiot, he entered the stadium, gripping his wand and trying very hard not to look at the stands. His attention was taken from them by the platform in the center of the arena. On it was an ancient wooden chest, and curled about it, seemingly asleep, was the cutest little puffball of a white kitten he had ever seen.
He hurried towards it, hoping his slight limp wasn’t noticeable from the stands. “Rub them the wrong way,” he thought to himself. “What in the name of Circe?”
Reaching the platform, he began to ascend the steps quietly, hoping not to awaken the kitten. Reaching the top of the platform, he crept towards the chest and the cat, when his overly polished boot gave a large squeak. The kitten started away, and jumped to its feet, giving a loud angry squeak of a meow.
Cedric brushed passed it and reached the chest when he heard a roar from behind him. He whirled round, falling into a crouch, wand at the ready.
At the other end of the stadium stood a rather magnificent giant Kneasle, and a stark white Griffin. The kitten hissed at Cedric, and swiped a claw at his robes.
Cedric darted a quick glance at the kitten, and then back to the more imposing dangerous and angry animals. “I should have known Hagrid’s kitten wouldn’t have normal parents,” he thought hysterically.
The griffon gave a screeching roar and charged.
“Impedimentia! Stupefy! Petrificus Totalis!” yelled Cedric, hitting the Griffin repeatedly square in the chest, causing it to tumble to the ground.
The Kneasle pawed the unconscious Griffin, before rushing towards Cedric, who grabbed the chest and scooted himself from the platform onto the sand. The kitten jumped and landed, claws out, on his chest.
With a cry of pain, Cedric tried to push it off, but it only dug deeper, back arched and hissing. From the stands, he was sure he heard laughter.
“The Griffin is down!” boomed Bagmans magically enhanced voice. “Looks like that rubbed the Kneasle the wrong way! It’s advancing!”
“Don’t injure the animals,” Cedric recited to himself, grabbing the kitten and pulling it off of his chest. He set it to one side and scrambled to his feet, just in time to cast a leg locker on the Kneasle.
The Kneasle gave a yowl of frustration as its front legs snapped together. Only slightly impaired, it bit Cedric in the leg. Fortunately, knee high leather boots provide some shield for that sort of thing, and Cedric managed wrenched his leg free to cast a final stunner, causing the Kneasle to fall.
Another roar sounded from the other end of the arena, and Cedric saw to his horror that the Griffin had shaken off his stunners and was advancing at a furious pace. Struck with sudden inspiration, Cedric scooped up the kitten and held it close to his chest.
The Griffin slowed, unwilling to charge straight at its kitten. The kitten squirmed and clawed and Cedric gave it soothing pats until it calmed. The Griffin pawed the earth and looked murderous.
Cedric cast a furious series of stunners at it, and grabbed the chest.
Hearing the Kneasle behind him beginning to stir again, he walked as fast as he could without it being considered running until he’d reached the exit.
He turned one last time to face the stadium he’d tried so hard to ignore. The Kneasle had indeed shaken off his curses, but was ignoring him in favor of trying to revive the Griffin.
Bagman was shouting something about how quick he had been, but Cedric, feeling stupid about carrying a kitten when there was sand all over his robes, gave a slight bow, and left, missing the numbers the judges shot from their wands.
A short way from the arena, he set the kitten to the floor, and it rubbed its head against his boots before scurrying off back towards his parents.
He made his way back to the tent in a daze, not believing the task had been that easy. “Learned those years ago,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll never live it down. I fought cats.”
“And a Griffin,” said Fleur, “we listened.”
Cedric nodded and sank onto one of the cushions holding the chest on his lap. Fleur was straightening her robes and drawing her wand, obviously prepairing herself for her won task.
“Break a leg,” said Cedric, before realizing that that expression probably meant nothing to her. “I mean, good look.”
She gave him a disgusted glare before sweeping from the tent.
“She vos laughing herself sick,” said Victors deep voice from the other side of the tent. “I am thinking it vos easy on purpose.”
Brushed half heartedly at the sand on his robes. “At least you got an animal that looks scary.”
“I hav a plan,” said Krum abruptly, as Bagmans’ voiced boomed to announced Fleur’s entrance. “Zey all tries to make money on us, tries to make is look fools.”
Cedric nodded glumly. “Not at all what I thought it’d be. I’d hoped for a Dragon or a Cerberus at least.”
“Somebody is wanting Fleur to look the best,” said Krum. “Planned her to get the hardest creature.”
“No kidding,” said Cedric, wincing as he realized the scratches from the kitten were bleeding.
“I hav a plan,” said Krum again. “To make them look like fools next time.”
Cedric considered things. To be sure, doing something of that sort would be dishonorable and low, but then again, nobody who was supposed to be making sure things were on the up and up was doing their job either. Why work to uphold his end of a farce?
“I’ll help you,” he said, and held out his hand.
Krum shook it.
Your Mission: Your main character is either Cedric, Viktor, or Fleur. Your choice!
As your champion enters the arena he/she sees what appears to be an over-large kitten sleeping, curled up with its back toward him/her on an ancient wooden chest at the far side. He or she must retrieve the contents of the box.
Your champion warily starts across the enclosure and suddenly hears a roar from the mother or father of the sleeping creature. What is your champion facing, what does he/she do to prevail? How does he/she retrieve the contents of the box without harming the kitten or its fierce protector?
You must include a conversation just before the contestant enters the arena, between him/her and Ludo Bagman.
Champions are disqualified for killing or maiming any creature.
Required Objects:
A flute,
A billywig
A dugbog
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"Quid rides? Mutato nomine et de te fabula narratur!"
- Horace.No gnomes know gnomes that know no gnomes. <div><a href=http://zymurgy.chatango.com/?button target=_blank><img border=0 src=http://zymurgy.chatango.com/i?1></a></div>
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Tri-Ferret Tournament - The First Task, submissions
Department_of_Mysteries Tri-Ferret Tournament - The First Task Oct 29 2005, 10:29 AM
Oct 29 2005, 10:29 AM
