Tri-Ferret Tournament - The First Task, submissions Options

[Department_of_My...]

Instructions for The First Task:


Choosing your Dragon

There are a dozen different points of view and ideas from this scenario. Each one is hidden behind an icon. These icons are scattered about the board. They look like this:

• Once you find an icon, click on it to receive your mission. Your mission will be unique and will tell you exactly the things your story must be about.
• Each mission can only be chosen by one ferret. If you find an icon after another ferret, you will be informed that it has already been claimed, and sent to search further. (Have no fear, there are plenty of missions to go around!)
• Once you have clicked an icon, its mission is allocated to you and recorded, and you may not choose another. If you try clicking another icon, it will tell you that you’ve already been given your mission.
• Missions are of equal difficulty.
• Depending on your mission, you could be writing from the point of view of one of the champions, a teacher, one of the students, or even Voldemort!
• Even the Champions' first task varies from mission to mission!

Regardless of which mission you find – there are a few requirements for ALL missions:

• Your submissions must be between 1000 and 3000 words.
• They must conform to the scenario given HERE.
• The Project Ferret Rules & Guidelines must be followed at all times. Remember that we are an all-ages site and do no allow content with a Rating higher than K+. (See the Guide at fictionratings.com.)
• You must leave your story open. Do not finish it! The Second Task relies on it.
• Posted at the END of their story, they must include the EXACT, original mission.
• Required Objects MUST be clearly highlighted by use of bolding through the text of the story. For those unfamiliar with BB Code, to bold text, use the following:

CODE

[B]--your text--[/b]

** A note on Required Objects:
Every scavenger mission contains a list of three objects. These need to be incorporated in the story; either mentioned in dialogue or have an important spot in the plot. Believe it or not, people have managed to write serious stories revolving on things as mundane as a tube of toothpaste.
As said above, when these objects are mentioned the first time, they must be in bold text.


About Voting and Rating Submissions

The Project Ferret Voting Booth allows members to read submissions and give them a rating between 1 – 10 Ferret Points. The ratings are given anonymously, and members may only view their average Ferret Point ratings (not the ratings given by each voter). Members may also leave comments for the writer on their submissions. Comments are not anonymous. Remember to be kind and constructive.

When giving ratings, be FAIR. Don’t rate a piece low because you’re afraid to lose, yourself. A good way to keep track of how you’re rating is to use a score card like this:

Score Card

__ Ferret Points for following the common mission (The info given in the TFT Thread’s 1st post)
__ Ferret Points for following the writer’s unique mission (The mission listed at the bottom of the submission)
__ Ferret Points for technical (grammar, spelling, punctuation)
__ Ferret Points for overall creativity
__ Ferret Points for characterization (adherence to character canon)
_________________
Total out of 10 maximum Ferret Points

0 = Poor, 1 = Okay/good, 2 = Great

The submission with the highest average Ferret Point rating wins the Task.

Submit to the First Task by replying in this topic. All submissions must have an original title.

The deadline for submissions for The First Task is Tuesday, November 7.

[Amaranth]

CAN'T FAIL AND CHEAT

The miniature dragon in my hand was pacing as impatiently as I felt. I would be the third, and final, champion to compete. We had just been told that we did not have to defeat the dragon, just collect its Golden Egg, but that did not make me feel any better. The others, Fleur and Cedric, were silent. I envied Cedric greatly: he was at home here, with the crowd chanting his name, and with the staff and supporters here for him. My own family were far away in Bulgaria worrying over me. Time and time again I would see Cedric's Hogwarts friends pat him on the back and say words with big grins on their faces, and sometimes they would laugh and look at me. They were the same ones who had cheered me on, asked me for my autograph when I'd first arrived, but now I was an enemy to be jeered at.

It was from them, the ones who mocked me, that I began to pick up on the meanings behind their words.

"Can't," they said. "Can't understand what we're saying." "Can't understand the instructions." "Can't possibly win." Those who said "Can't" were not my friends. Those of my school who were here to support me said I should show them a thing or two - I knew a few spells, not the kind they taught in this meek school. My friends said they could rough up a few of the cheekier Hogwarts pupils, and I told them, "You can't." Maybe they were right; after all, this wasn't a game of Quidditch.

"Fail," said the Hogwarts students. "He's going to fail." "Cedric can't fail." "I'd die if I failed in front of all those people." All the Hogwarts students believed I was going to fail, or were at least wishing for it. They had no good advice for the foreign boy - after all, he couldn't understand. Professor Karkaroff found me alone in the library as I was researching defensive spells, something I'd never been strong with, and cuffed the back of my head.

"Why are you in this contest?" he hissed at me. I gave him the answer I had been taught to give-

"For the honour of the school," I replied. In a way, that was true. I had not done it for fame, for I had enough of that playing Quidditch, nor had I done it for the money, for my face and name had been used to sell the finest broomsticks and Quidditch equipment in Bulgaria. But honour? Perhaps a little, but I had entered this tournament first and foremost because it had been expected of me. Karkaroff was loathe to admit he had any weakness, so he checked around carefully before slipping on his monocle to read the defence text over my shoulder.

"Precisely, the honour of the school," he repeated. "Succeed here, and think what it will mean for the school, or for our country! Fail here..." He glared at me, one eye ridiculously magnified.

"But what can I do? I'm a Seeker, not a champion! I am bound to fail!" Karkaroff closed the book with a snap and breathed heavily through his nose.

"I will ensure you don't," he told me.

"Cheat," said the Hogwarts students. "Cheat, Cedric, they'll never know." "I'd bet the others are cheating anyway."

But one voice was different among the students.

"This isn't about winning," she said. "I can't believe anyone would cheat. That would be awful." She spoke so clearly that every word sounded in my head like Bulgarian, and yet it was not, and she said the words I wanted to hear with the meanings I wanted them to have.

I listened to her voice, and I kept her voice in my heart. Slowly, I began to pick up on more words. I borrowed dictionaries from the library and studied them, piecing together every meaning, every nuance of what she said, yet every time I tried to repeat her name, it sounded wrong. After all, she was a brilliant witch and what was I? I was just a boy with a broomstick.

As I read and read, I began to remember words and diagrams, and my research took on a life of its own. What began as a quest to be fluent in English was providing me with possibilities for fighting my dragon. I had answers, but they would be difficult.

I persevered. I would learn her name, and I would speak to her like an equal, not like a stranger. Yet still, sitting in that tent, I did not know her name. I was armed with a few spells, many of which I could not be certain would even work on a dragon.

"Yeah, but he might not even understand me."

"So I'll do it."

"No way!"

Two Hogwarts students were bickering outside the tent. Before, their words would have been nothing but babbling to me, but now I knew exactly who they were talking about, and I made them squeak with fright as I peered out of the tent.

"What do you want?" I asked them.

"P- Professor Karkaroff wants you, M- Mr Krum," one of them gasped.

"Where is he?" The boy pointed with a shaking finger to an elegant, more open tent.

"In the marquis," he told me. Marquis... marquis... that wasn't a word I knew, yet I quickly understood the boy was referring to the open tent. I strode past the boys, but Karkaroff intercepted me before I reached the tent. He was looking as nervous as when he wore his monocle.

"Take this," he whispered, pushing a package into my hands. I followed his nervous glances and stared around me, to make sure we were not being watched; we were not- Cedric had entered the arena. In my hands was a solid object, wrapped in a large spotted handkerchief. I started to pull away at the handkerchief when Karkaroff cuffed me about the head again.

"Don't unwrap it here!" Karkaroff hissed at me. "Have you taken too many Bludgers to the head? Stab the dragon with it. Now go!" He pushed me back towards the tent just as the crowd was cheering for Cedric. I presumed he'd survived and succeeded. Within moments, Fleur was led away from the tent and I was alone. I unwrapped the handkerchief and stared at its contents: a unicorn horn, sharpened to a vicious point. It had been crudely sawn off at its base, and I couldn't bear think how Karkaroff had got his hands on it.

Her voice, though, her voice was still with me, and it showed me the way.

"I can't use this," I told myself. "I would rather fail, than cheat." With that, I hid the horn under a fold of tent cloth and readied myself to enter the arena. She would be watching me, and she wouldn't see the mute foreigner, or the cheating jock: she would see a true champion of the tournament.

The crowd screamed and roared again, and then I heard my name. Someone led me through into the arena, and then hurried away again, terrified to share my fate. Ahead of me was the same dragon I held tightly in my hand, but a hundred times larger and infinitely more furious. Its attentions were on the shrieking crowd, until it realised that there was a closer prey. It roared at me, and sent a warning shot of flame my way, but refused to come closer.

My heart was pounding so hard that my ears were throbbing with each beat. I could no longer hear the crowd. I remembered my first professional Quidditch match, that same terror, and the dizzying moment of realising that the threat lies ahead of you, not in the crowd. That was my enemy.

"It can't stop me," I breathed. "I am the Durmstrang champion, and I will not fail!" I began to run forward and the dragon reared up in front of me. I saw the warning flicker of light in the dragon's mouth as it roared, and threw myself behind a rock, tearing my sleeve and hurting my arm in the process, but not nearly enough to slow me down.

"Come now," I said to the dragon quietly. "I've been hit worse by Bludgers and still walked away with the Snitch in my hand. Your Golden Egg is no different." No matter how brave I wanted to feel, though, it didn't quite reach my legs, and the dragon had had a second shot at me before I gained the will to dash out from behind the rock. It spotted me immediately and I had to dive back again. I yelled and thumped my shelter in frustration. The dragon was too quick for me: the moment it saw me it...

I looked up into the stands. She was among them, I knew. She'd walked past my table and I had been so shocked at her sudden arrival that I had stared at a page for a full five minutes before the redness had gone from my face.

That page had been discussing the Conjunctivitis Curse. That was it! I didn't need to destroy the dragon, merely blind it! I beamed up at the stands, knowing that my inspiration was up there somewhere, and then ran out from behind the rock. I fired off the curse before the dragon could react, and it let out a terrible, despairing roar. Immediately, it began to stomp around without a care for its nest... the nest! I had to lead the dragon away, or it would crush the Golden Egg!

I fired a series of loud, noisy jinxes towards the far side of the arena- the sort we used to celebrate at the end of a winning Quidditch match. The dragon lashed out blindly with its tail and clawed at the empty space where the jinxes had exploded, and moved away from its nest. I clambered towards the abandoned eggs, most of them broken now, and found a large pool of yolk and shell. The thick, gooey liquid coated my arms as I fished about for the Golden Egg, and I quickly found it as the dragon turned around and began sniffing the air for me.

I held up the egg in triumph-

And it slipped out of my hands, hitting the rocky nest below with a deafening clang. I slipped and skidded to pick it up again, but in my haste, forgot to watch where my foe was heading. The flames hit me, but I was out of there quickly enough to escape with a singed face and cooked egg all over my arms. The stinging made my eyes water, blurring my vision, and I barely made it out of the arena before a second blast of fire came my way.

Karkaroff waited for me there. I held up the egg like an offering, as proof of the honour of the school, but his face was grim and dark.

"The dragon tramped its eggs," he growled nastily. "YOU IDIOT! You're last! Even the French girl did better!" With that, he swept away, while staff from the other schools shrugged and smiled indulgently.

I looked at the judges. I was uncomfortably aware that I smelled like a full English breakfast.

"I am sorry," I said, presenting them with the egg. "Now... I must see a Healer."

And I do not remember much after that.

-------------------------------------------

Amaranth found an icon!

Mission: Your character is Viktor Krum.

He really would like to win this tournament, but as he keeps telling Karkaroff, defense is not his art, flying is.
He is not in his element, both on account of the tasks, and on account of the language barrier.
Describe how he overcomes these obstacles, and whether or not he succumbs to the temptation to accept illegal help from Karkaroff.
Include the first task, and the results thereof.

Required Objects:
A large spotted handkerchief,
Unicorn Horn,
A monocle.

[chad13]

Fretting For the Enemy

“Viktor Krum at Hogwarts!” Lavender squealed, “I still can’t believe it!” I did not reply, Lavender wasn’t really talking to me anyway. Pravati merely giggled at her friend in response. It was hard enough to have to listen to the two of them gossiping about him every night in the dormitory, but the fact that they had decided to sit behind me at the first task was just torture. I simply rolled my eyes at them, it was all really quite repulsive the way every girl in the school, and Ron, was talking about the famous Viktor Krum. He’s only human after all.

“What do you think of my new dress robes ?” Pravati asked Lavender, “I don’t know what they wanted us to have them for this year but I thought honoring Viktor in his first task was as good a reason to wear them as any!” It was no use really, between the giggling over Viktor and the completely nauseating behavior I’d witnessed from the boys, Harry and Ron included, over that, Fleur Delacour, it looked as though the entire school year was going to fall apart over this tournament. Promoting magical cooperation and understanding seemed a distant thought to most people, the tournament's really no more than another overly publicized sporting event promoting looks and brute strength. The integrity of this entire event hinges I believe on Cedric who, despite his good looks, is really very bright.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Stop drooling Ron, you should be worried. Looks aren’t everything, especially if she gets hurt!”

“She won’t get hurt! Fleur’s a champion whether you like it or not Hermione! She can do this sort of thing.” Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric, each gave a last wave to the crowd before disappearing into the tent below. I shook my head, it’s times like this when I thoroughly detest my friendship with Ron. He’s quite shallow when you really get down to it, and if not for my respect for the friendship I have with Harry, I hate to say it, but I might’ve parted ways with Ron years ago. I wish Ron would at least brush his hair out of his face, he really does have incredibly blue eyes. I feel the exact same way about Ron sometimes as I feel when Viktor Krum’s in the Hogwarts library. Didn’t they bring any books on that stupid ship? Perhaps it isn’t his fault it gets so loud up there during study hours, after all he’s never the one talking, it’s always his fan club of followers. It’s annoying none the less, but thinking back on it I don’t know that I remember ever hearing Krum speak at all in the Library.

“She knows you know,”I whispered.

“Knows what?” Ron asked, as Fleur reentered the arena alone.

“What the task is.”

“She can’t know what the task is! It’s supposed to be a surprise to the champions! It’s to test her nerve Hermione, Dumbledore said so. How’s her nerve gonna be tested if they told her what the task was?”

“Oh you’re so naive Ronald! Does she look nervous to you? No one lied about the task being set up to test her nerve, but this is an old tradition Ron, this tournament, and cheating is part of it! She knows!”

“Why? Did you tell her?” No, I had not told Fleur what the task was, though I’m sure I figured it all out before she did. The rules and regulations for transporting dragons are very specific, and the preparations I’d noticed on the grounds over the last few weeks had made things more than clear.

“No Ron, but I saw ...” I never did get to tell Ron what I saw, because it was at that moment they released the Chinese Fireball, and the task began. It was horrifying to watch the speck of blond that was Fleur dart to and fro so far below. If I hadn’t overheard the talking mirror in the basement corridor monologuing a dialogue it’d overheard earlier between Madame Maxime and Mr. Bagman I might’ve felt a bit more sympathetic, but I knew she’d been informed about the dragons. It was only the sheer terror that a dragon can rouse in anyone that frightened me.

“Hermione ... Hermione I can’t feel my fingers.”

“Oh, sorry,” I let go of Harry’s hand just as Fleur grabbed the golden egg she’d been chasing and the whistle blew.

“That’s okay,” Harry told me stretching his hand. “I think she did pretty well, don’t you?”

“I think it would’ve been more interesting to see how she would’ve done without any outside help.”

“Hermione, if you’re so stuck on this cheating thing why didn’t you tell anyone about it?” Harry asked.

“I did! I told you and ..”

“I don’t count.”

“ You , and I told McGonagall.”

“And she told you that it was impossible?”

“No Harry, she said she appreciated my concern, but there was really no way of proving any of my story, especially where the talking mirror was concerned, and that I shouldn’t look to far into it since it really is all tradition, as shady as that seems. It’s all true to, that cheating is a tradition. I looked it up in the Library, Hogwarts A History.”

“But you’re still talking about it, so what else did you do?”

“Cedric’s up!” Neville called.

“I hope his right hand gets burned off, won’t be so good at Quidditch without a hand.”

“Ron!” He's so immature sometimes. I turned back to Harry, “Anyway ... Harry? Do you care about what I’m going to say or not? ... You’re the one who asked what else I did.”

“One second.” Boys find it so hard to pull their eyes away from anything dangerous or dumb. “Okay, what else did you do?” He asked, only angling himself slightly in my direction.

“I went to talk to Hagrid.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust him.”

“No, because he’s easy to crack,” Ron grinned.

“Just watch the task Ronald. I went to Hagrid and I was talking to him about Maxime, and apparently they’ve been talking a lot since he’s been taking care of the Beaubaxtons’ horses, and I guess he really likes her.”

“I think he can just relate to her on a higher level than he can relate with anyone else.” Ron laughed.

“Shut up Ron! And apparently, he took her to see the dragons, Maxime I mean. It was innocent enough I guess, but of course she was going to go back and tell Fleur! And of course I couldn’t go and report Hagrid! Doesn’t explain Bagman though. This tournament really is quite a bit dirtier than it looks to be at first.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it to much Hermione," Harry began, "It really doesn’t have anything to do with us personally, I mean, the Hogwarts champion isn’t even a Gryffindor!” So much for promoting magical cooperation and understanding. “Besides, we’ve got other things to worry about aside from any direct cheating in the tournament.”

Ron hit me in the face as he reached across to grab Harry’s arm. “Krum’s up! Krum’s up! Krum’s up!” The cheering from the stands was enormous! “Blimy! He got the Hungarian Horntail!” Ron’s jaw dropped.

“The Hungarian Horntail!” My jaw dropped.

“Yeah, it’s huge and black, it’s got razor sharp teeth, but it’s tail has these huge spiked horns so ...”

“I know what a Hungarian Horntail is Ron!”

“How does she know everything? My brother works with dragons and she knows as much as I do! She’s a girl!” I didn’t reply to the comments Ron made to Harry, I just watched as Viktor entered the arena, wand held at the ready, shoulders squared. I grasped the torn parchment hidden in my pocket.

“Aim for the eyes ...”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing Harry.”

“Look!” Ron pointed down as Viktor knelt on the ground and steadied his wand over his left arm. “Did he just close one of his eyes?”

“What’s he doing?” Harry asked.

“He’s aiming.” I said.

“For what?”

“The dragons weakest point,” I looked at Ron, as we had both spoken together, when suddenly there was a flash of white light.

“It’s eyes.” Ron finished.

“Hermione my hand!”

“He could get stepped on!” I cried, horror struck at the trampling beast.

“Or burnt to a crisp!” Ron yelled.

“No, no he’s got it!” Harry called. Everyone began to cheer as Viktor, golden egg in hand, sprinted back towards the tent, darting one more step and a blind breath of fire. I sank back into my seat, relieved it was over and everyone was still alive.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, turning to look at me. I didn't know what to say.

“Wow, that was wicked, wasn’t it?" Ron interrupted. "That age limit was really rubbish if you ask me, how cool would it have been for us to be down their?”

“Not cool at all actually. There’s an age limit for a reason Ron, it’s just not safe ...”

“And we don’t have enough magical knowledge yet, yes you’ve told us!” I didn’t add that I wouldn’t have been able to deal with the worry I would have suffered had Ron or Harry been subjected to such tests, I doubted Ron would appreciate the statement the way it deserved. “But come on, think about it!” he continued, “I can’t wait to see what comes next!”

Another two tasks to go, that was right, I slouched further in my seat. With a final caress I released the parchment in my pocket. “Come on, maybe we can catch Krum on his way back to the castle!” Ron said, pushing Harry and I along in front of him. I didn’t really care where Ron led us, just as long as we didn’t meet Mr. Bagman along the way.

Mission:
Your main character is Hermione. Describe her friends’ reactions to the Tournament, how she views all this and her thoughts on them going absolutely nutty over Fleur. Be sure to mention how anxious she is to hide her own fascination with Krum. Describe how Hermione hears about cheating, and her attempts to insure fairness. Do as much of this as possible from the point of view of Hermione as she watches the first Task.

Required Objects: A new robe, A talking mirror, Torn parchment.

[Lissydove]

In which Ron receives three offers to bet and learns of some shady dealings…

Ron leaned against a tree overlooking the grounds in front of Hogewart’s Castle, watching the flurry of activity surrounding the three champions as they prepared for their first task. He’d left Harry behind in Moody’s office after the professor had expressed a desire to speak to the boy, his scowl indicating without words that Ron was not welcome. “He’ll just tell me everything you say anyway, you old nutter,” Ron had thought, but left quickly, all the same, as that eye seemed to penetrate right through to the back of his head. Besides, he’d rationalized, he’d be able to get outside early to see the preparations for the first task.

Out on the great lawn, students milled about in excited groups, all hoping for a chance to get a look at the three champions. However, only one was plainly visible from Ron’s vantage point. Cedric held court over a large number of students, mainly girls from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, with Cho Chang smiling up at him by his side. As a group of Gryffindors passed him by, Ron unconsciously scanned the group, looking for a familiar frizzy brown head among them. Hermione had walked off in a huff that morning while he and Harry were discussing the delegates from Beauxbatons and hadn’t spoken to them since. Impatiently, he brushed a lock of red hair from his face and the students gave him a wide berth, recognizing his brooding expression.

Nearby, Ludo Bagman was making his way through the crowd, a leather bag in his hand and his usual boyish grin on his face. He was apparently taking wagers on the first task, but seemed to be having little luck as a group of Durmstrangs turned him away. Ron searched hopefully for a glimpse of their champion among them, but Viktor Krum was nowhere to be seen. If he weren’t rooting for Cedric, Ron would have put his galleons on Krum to win, “if he’d had any,” he thought ruefully. At the very least, he was still hoping to get an autograph from his favorite Quidditch player by the time this tournament was over.

“Care to place a wager on Krum?” a voice interrupted Ron’s thoughts.

“What?” Ron focused his attention to the smiling man before him.

“A wager? You know, a bet,” Bagman replied jovially, though his exuberance showed signs of being a bit forced. “My sources say Krum is a shoe-in to win,” he whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to Ron.

"I know what a wager is..." he replied testily, but a small movement down by the lake suddenly caught Ron’s attention. Quite apart from the activity, Hermione was sitting quietly by the water, tossing bits of toast from breakfast to a duck swimming there, looking up at her in adoration. Instinctively, Bagman forgotten, Ron began to take a step in that direction. However, he suddenly realized that the girl was not alone at all. The aforementioned Viktor Krum appeared, as if from nowhere and approached her, his unusual gait a contrast to his fluid grace on a broom. Hermione hastily got to her feet, brushing bits of grass and leaves from her skirt, a pleased smile and a slight flush lit her face.

“Well, what do you say, boy?” Bagman asked, rocking back on his heels. “A galleon on Krum?”

Ron forced himself to tear his eyes from the sight of Hermione accepting a flower from the smiling Durmstrang champion. “What?” he repeated impatiently.

If Ron had cared to notice, he would have seen the now evident look of desperation in the ministry official’s round, blue eyes. The man shook his almost empty leather bag and repeated himself a third time, but still the boy paid him no heed, as a group of girls from Beauxbatons came in to view over Bagman’s right shoulder. All thoughts of Hermione, Krum, flowers, ducks and wagers fled from Ron’s thoughts, as his senses were assaulted by a vision of beauty. Fleur Delacour tossed her blond hair over her shoulders, causing the sun to reflect off the shining locks and form a halo on the crown of her head. She seemed to not to notice the looks of admiration she’d attracted from all the boys in the vicinity as her gaze swept over the crowd casually, a small smile on her face. Ron’s mouth opened in astonishment and then spit into a wide grin, as he was sure that the girl’s smile was meant for him. Unconsciously he started to move in her direction, but there was something quite large, and annoying blocking his path…

“Ah, now I see…,” Bagman narrowed his eyes slyly, “care to wager on Delacour, then? I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but there are some pretty heavy bets on her winning it all. That’s insider information, mind you…”

Ron was brought back to rude reality, the grin leaving his face, what was this person talking about? “No!” he replied in irritation, remembering Bagman’s question, “I don’t want to bet.” He strained to look over the man’s bulky form for another glimpse of Fleur…

Bagman looked rather crestfallen at the boy’s response, but tried to rally, “well, your loss, mate! There are plenty of galleons to be won!” he started to hold up his bag in illustration, but thought better of it, hiding it behind his back.

Ron didn’t even notice the man trot away looking for better business, as he tried desperately to spot Fleur in the crowd, to no avail. He looked over at the lake once more and saw only the lone duck swimming happily by the shore. Ron scowled and wondered where Hermione and Krum had gone off to, not allowing himself to consider which of them he was more irritated with or why.

“What are you doing over here all by yourself, little brother?” Ron was interrupted yet again, this time by the voice of his brother, Fred.

“One would think you were up to something,” George looked suspiciously over Ron’s shoulder as though his brother was hiding something back there. Behind the tree, perhaps?

“Like you should talk,” Ron shot back, eying up the bags each of his brothers were carrying. They looked quite heavy and jingled as the boys moved. They were apparently having much better luck at whatever they were doing then Bagman was. “What about you then?” he asked indicating the objects.

“Business, brother, good business,” Fred replied fondly, regarding his bag.

“Care to place a wager on a champion?” George asked slyly, swinging his bag from hand to hand so that the galleons inside clinked against each other.

“Mind you, we can’t give you any insider information,” Fred warned.

“It wouldn’t be fair, people would say we’re cheating,” George agreed sagely.

“It’s alright to cheat to win the tournament…” Fred started.

“But cheating on a bet…” George continued.

“Is just plain wrong,” Fred finished, bowing his head solemnly as George nodded sagely in agreement.

“Speaking of which, you didn’t give any money to Bagman, did you?” George asked, perusing Ron closely.

“No!” Ron’s face flushed to match the color of his hair. There was no way he was going to admit to his brothers that he had no money to bet with in the first place. “I don’t want to bet,” he stated for the second time that day, rather defensively.

The twins looked at each other knowingly, but for once did not comment. “Well as long as you don’t bet with him,” Fred stated.

“If anyone is up to no good, it’s Bagman,” George agreed.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, curious despite himself.

“Old Bagman is in trouble,” Fred revealed, “big trouble.”

“With the goblins,” George confirmed. “He managed to accrue some pretty heavy debts at the World Cup…”

“And now he is working to pay them back…” Fred continued.

“All of that money he is trying to raise is going to them…” said George.

“And we hear that they are trying to skew the results of the tournament,” Fred stated.

“How can they do that?” Ron asked in astonishment.

The twins looked at their brother, identical wry smiles on their faces, “Bagman knows what the tasks are, doesn’t he?” George asked.

“And how to win,” Fred agreed.

“But he can’t…” Ron tried to protest.

“He can and he is,” George interrupted.

“So you’d best not be dealing with him,” Fred warned, as the twins made to leave.

“And make sure that none of the others do either.” George nodded.

Ron agreed, deep in thought, as the twins started to walk away to find more betters.

Fred turned back to grin at his brother mischievously, “but if you do happen to find a spare galleon…”

“… you know who to call on,” George grinned, not able to leave without teasing their brother at least once.

“Yeah, sure,” Ron put his brothers out of his mind as the implications of what they had just revealed became apparent to him. He needed to tell Harry. He had to get back to the castle to find him, but the great lawn was thick with the crowd of students. Ron decided to skirt around the area, taking him to the edge of the forbidden forest as he went.

“Oooof!” Suddenly he found himself face first on the ground. He must have accidentally tripped over a root or a stump… But roots and stumps didn’t talk…

“Watch where you’re going, boy!” a gravelly voice scolded him.

Ron looked up and found himself face to face with one of the last things he would ever expect to encounter here at Hogwarts, and that said a lot given Hagrid and his affinity for strange creatures. It wasn’t everyday that one had an accidental meeting with a goblin here at school…

The goblin he had tripped over picked himself up and grumpily brushed away the dirt that was clinging to his coat, glaring at Ron all the while.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” Ron found himself asking.

“Why should I tell you?” the creature asked meanly, “unless you’re looking to get in on a profitable venture…” its eyes narrowed shrewdly.

“Ron!!” a voice called, interrupting the goblin.

Both Ron and the creature looked up to see Harry making his way over toward them.

“Ron!” Harry called, “what are you doing?” he asked, spying his friend sprawled on the ground.

“I was just talking to…” Ron started and then realized that the goblin was gone. He stared at the spot where it had stood, bemused.

“Who?” Harry asked curiously.

“Long story, I have loads to tell you,” Ron sprang to his feet and led his friend back toward the castle, neither boy aware of the glittering black eyes that watched them as they left.


***


Mission: Your main character is Ronald Weasley.

He is excited that Krum is coming to Hogwarts, but less than happy that Hermione likes Krum. What about that gorgeous French contestant, around whom he cannot keep his jaw in place?
Describe a scene where Ludo Bagman tries to get Ron to bet on a particular champion, but Ron refuses due to being distracted by seeing Krum talking with Hermione in the distance on one side, and Fleur walking by on the other.
Include Ron finding out from the twins that Bagman is up to no good, and his elaborate plan, involving the goblins, to prevent Bagman from skewing the results of the tournament.

Required Objects:
A leather bag,
An accidental meeting,
A duck.

[zymurgy]

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

[timeturner]

Padfoot Perturbed


Sirius Black paced the length of the small cave that had been his home for the last two weeks. Deep in the countryside and hidden within a mountain, the cave was deserted, silent, and essentially perfect for a wizard who didn’t want to be found. Even better, it was close to Hogwarts and therefore close to Harry, which was exactly where Sirius felt he needed to be.

Continuing to pace, Sirius took a moment now and then to glance at the papers and letters that were strewn haphazardly around the cave. With each word that he reread, his suspicions grew. Something definitely wasn’t right.

The newspaper articles themselves didn’t reveal much and neither did Harry’s letter, but when the letter and articles were combined and coupled with the conversation that Sirius had overheard last week, it was clear that something was very wrong indeed.

Coming to a stop, Sirius picked up one of the Daily Prophets that he had nicked from a rubbish bin in Hogsmeade and read:


B.O.G. UNDER INVESTIGATION

According to a Ministry official, the group known as B.O.G. (Brotherhood of Goblins) is currently being investigated by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Accused of participating in illegal methods of wizard intimidation, B.O.G. has denied all charges and insists that the investigation is “another example of the smear campaign devised by the Ministry in hopes of undermining the goblin race “.

When questioned, Ministry employee and Department spokesperson, Amos Diggory, adamantly protested the smear campaign accusations saying, “The B.O.G. investigation stems from an anonymous tip that we received by owl post. There is no smear campaign. If it were up to us, we would avoid dealings with the members of B.O.G. as they are typically cranky and generally unpleasant conversationalists.”

This is not the first time that B.O.G. has come under fire. Daily Prophet readers may remember...


Sirius dropped the Prophet and picked up another publication known as The Quibbler. As ludicrous as this magazine seemed upon first inspection, one of the headlines on the cover had caught his eye immediately. After reading the article within, he was convinced that at least part of the report held some truth; a small part perhaps, but a part none the less.


LUDO IS ON THE LOOSE!
ARE HOGWARTS STUDENTS IN DANGER?

A former Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, Ludo Bagman is currently employed by the Ministry of Magic as the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Bagman recently had a hand in the organization of the Tri-Wizard Tournament which is currently being held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When questioned about the Tournament and his motives, Bagman claimed to have an interest in the promotion of foreign wizard relations.

BUT DOES HE?

Upon further investigation, The Quibbler has discovered that Bagman has a hidden agenda. Bent on world domination, the former Quidditch star plans to take over the entire Wizarding World starting with Hogwarts. It is suspected that the goblins support his plot and intend to assist Bagman with it. On more than one occasion, Bagman has been seen discussing his dastardly plan with known goblin enforcer, Scabo the Scabbed.

It is unknown how Bagman’s boss, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, feels about these meetings. Though never charged, tried, or convicted, Fudge is a well-known goblin killer/pie-baker. Thus far, the Minister has refused to return our owls or comment on the situation.

In lieu of these findings, The Quibbler would like to urge its readers to protest the Tournament by whatever means possible…


Sirius dropped the magazine and resumed his pacing. The whole world domination plot was a bit of a laugh, but after what he heard in Hogsmeade there was no doubt that this Bagman character was in knee-deep with the goblins. Closing his eyes and rubbing his head, Sirius tried to recall the conversation that he had overheard last week while playing the lovable stray in Hogsmeade…

“Merlin’s beard, Bertha! I still can’t believe you’re working for Ludo Bagman. I remember when I watched him play Quidditch against the Holyhead Harpies. What a dreamboat! I tell you, Gilderoy Lockhart doesn’t have anything on him. What’s Bagman’s story? Is he single?”

Bertha Jorkins laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm. The two witches were picnicking on a patch of grass at the edge of the village, assuming they were quite alone with the exception of the stray dog that had happened upon them.

“Oh, you don’t want to get involved with Ludo,” Bertha said, feeding a piece of chicken to Sirius, who swallowed it without chewing. “Trust me, Arella. He has issues.”

“Issues?” Arella asked, her interest clearly piqued.

“Gambling,” Bertha whispered, looking around to make sure there was nobody else in the vicinity. “He owes the goblins so many Galleons that he’ll be working long past the time a wizard should. Anyways, he’s really busy with the Tournament right now. I doubt he’d have time for dating. He told me he has a personal interest in the outcome and plans to spend a great deal of time at Hogwarts monitoring the situation.”

“Figures,” Arella sighed and patted Sirius on the head for a moment before continuing. “What do the champions have to do? Do you know?”

“Not really,” Bertha said.” I do know that everyone’s especially nervous about the second task though. I’m not exactly sure what the champions have to do, but there’s some type of creature involved and there’s fear that it could get loose and wreck havoc. Harm the non-participants, you know.”

…Sirius opened his eyes and shook his head. Harry was a non-participant. Was he in danger? Sirius gritted his teeth at the thought. For the thousandth time he wished that he didn’t have to hide, wished he were truly a free man instead of a prisoner of circumstance. Harry was counting on him. James and Lily were counting on him.

Sirius stopped pacing and found the collection of letters that Harry had sent him. He saved them all. Leafing through the stack, Sirius found the most recent and read:


Dear Snuffles,

The Tri-Wizard Tournament is brilliant! I really wish I could have been a champion. I thought about having a go at Dumbledore’s age line, but after seeing the beards Fred and George grew when they tried to cross, I’m glad I didn’t. I don’t think I’m ready for a beard.

Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff ended up being chosen as the Hogwarts champion. Seamus likes to call him Pretty Boy Diggory, but he’s not so bad. A Gryffindor champion would have been better though.

Fleur Delacour got it for Beauxbatons. Hermione doesn’t like her, but Ron sure does. And Viktor Krum was picked for Durmstrang. I saw him at the World Cup. He played Seeker for Bulgaria and did the best move. It’s called the Wronski Feint. I can’t wait to try it out on Malfoy next time we play Slytherin.

Dumbledore said the Tournament will have three tasks altogether. The first one just ended. I wish you could have seen it. First, the champions had to get past these horrible beasts called Fachan. Hagrid says they’re beautiful creatures from the Scottish Highlands, but they look more like house-elves to me. Really ugly house-elves. They’re short and they only have one leg, one arm, and one eye. They swing these little spiked clubs that shoot spells and hexes out the end. They’re a nasty lot. I think that’s why Hagrid likes them so much.

The champions had twenty minutes to finish. They had to get past a huge group of Fachan to a stand of trees. In one of the trees, there was a hidden clue that’s supposed to help them in the second task. It sounds easy enough, but there was a trick. The champions weren’t allowed to use wands against the Fachan or hurt them in any way.

Of course, right away Hermione figured out what the champions needed to do. She said they should put spells on themselves, like a Shield Charm or Imperturbable Charm. Something the Fachan couldn’t break through. It was really too bad Cedric didn’t figure that out.

He went first and managed to dodge the Fachan’s spells for a little while. Then he started getting hit with all kinds of hexes. The Fachan started to cluster around him and he must have panicked. He tried to conjure a shield, but the Fachan shot it right out of his hand. So then he tried this weird frog leap to get over the whole lot of them. He almost did it too, but he accidentally kicked one of the Fachan in the head and knocked it out cold. He got marked down for that. You weren’t supposed to hurt the Fachan. Cedric got his clue out of the tree though and finished just under the time limit.

Fleur didn’t do much better. One of the Fachan hit her with a spell that lit her hair on fire. (Hermione thought that was really funny. She laughed so hard that she shot butterbeer right out her nose. Some of it got on Ron.) After Fleur put her hair out, she stared at the Fachan for a minute and then started to sway back and forth. Then the craziest thing happened. The Fachan started doing the same thing, like they were in a trance or something! A bunch of people said that was cheating, but she didn’t hurt the Fachan or use her wand so the judges let her get away with it. She got her clue from the tree and was done in eighteen minutes.

Krum did best of all. It was like he knew exactly what to do. Ernie MacMillan from Hufflepuff told me and Ron that he overheard Karkaroff whispering hints to Krum right before the task started, so maybe that’s why he had such an easy time of it. I don’t know.

After Krum put a Shield Charm on himself, every hex the Fachan sent his way just bounced off of him. He got past them right away and grabbed his clue. He was finished in less than five minutes. Got a perfect score too. That put Fleur in second and Cedric dead last.

I wish there was some way I could find out for sure if Karkaroff is trying to cheat. If he is, maybe I could stop him or help Cedric. Even the playing field somehow.

Any ideas?

Harry

P.S. Do you know Ludo Bagman? He used to play Quidditch, but now he works at the Ministry. He helped organize the Tournament and he’s been at Hogwarts a lot. I keep noticing him staring at me and he’s been asking around about me. I don’t know what he’s getting up to.


Sirius replaced Harry’s letter in the stack. What was Ludo Bagman up to? It seemed strange that he would be paying any attention to Harry at all. After all, what did Harry have to do with the Tournament?

Feeling more than a little perturbed, Sirius went to the corner of the cave and dug through his meager pile of supplies. After pulling out a quill, a scrap of parchment, and a bit of sealing wax, he sat down and began to write.


Dear Harry,

It’s good that you are enjoying the Tournament. I wish that I could be there too.

I must admit, I’m not surprised to hear that Karkaroff and his student may be cheating. They’re probably not the only ones. I’m not old enough to have ever attended a Tournament of course, but I’ve always heard that cheating is a traditional part of it. Come to think of it, that may be why Dumbledore has Mad-Eye teaching this year. Moody’s good at keeping an eye on things if you know what I mean.

You want to even the playing field, do you? Glad to hear it. I think I might have just the thing. Luckily for you, I left it at Hogwarts. It should still be there. Even after all of these years, I doubt anyone has come across the hiding place.

To find it, go to the sixth floor. Just past the boys’ bathroom, you should see a portrait of an old wizard wearing red ear muffs. If you poke him in the eye with your wand and tell him that you solemnly swear that you are up to no good, the portrait will swing open and reveal a very small room. Inside this room is a marauder’s paradise. You’ll definitely find some things that will even the playing field and probably provide a bit of fun for you and your mates in the process. Whatever you do, don’t get caught. Take the map with you so you can make sure that nobody else is around.

As for your other question, I don’t know Bagman personally, but I’ve heard some rumors. Bagman’s gambling has gotten him in a bad situation with the goblins. I want you to steer clear of him, Harry. Desperate men do desperate things. Take care of yourself and watch your back.

Sirius

P.S. Make sure you, Ron, and Hermione find a safe spot to sit for the second task. There’s a dangerous creature involved. Not sure what it is, but it could get loose.


Hedwig returned from her hunt just as Sirius placed the seal upon his letter to Harry. Knowing immediately that it was her time to shine, she allowed Sirius to tie the letter to her leg and then with a great flap of wings, she was gone. Back to Hogwarts and back to Harry.


*******************************************************
Unique Mission

Your main Character is Sirius Black.

Sirius is stuck hiding out in the countryside, but he has heard scary rumors concerning the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Write a letter from Harry to Sirius about how grand the tournament will be, and a letter from Sirius to Harry in which he warns Harry about getting into trouble, but provide hints on how not to do that and get around certain blockages to fun, anyway. Include concerns about the dangers and devious situations Sirius has heard about; how they might affect non-participants and why they matter.

Required Objects:
Sealing wax,
Chicken,
Ear muffs.

[OtterySt.Catchpo...]

A hard day’s night

“It’s been a long day,” Percy Weasley thought to himself, as he plopped down into the chair behind his desk in his tiny out-of-the-way office at the Ministry. Percival Ignatius Weasley did not plop down into chairs, but for the fact that he was alone—he had made sure the office door was closed—he was so very tired, it had been such a long day, and he felt the situation merited it. Otherwise, he would not have plopped down at all.
He covered his face with his hands to the soft sound of a needle scratching on a record, as the gramophone began playing. Valse sentimentale by Tchaikovsky began; the somber piece fit his weary mood just then.
Lying on his otherwise neat little desk—as if to show the urgency with which he had left the office that morning—lay the last owl he had gotten from Mr. Crouch. The poor man had written him to inform Percy he could not go into the office again, this time because he was having what he termed a ‘family emergency.’ It seemed odd to Percy, as Mr. Crouch did not have any close relatives—both his wife and son had died years before. He was likely tending to some dear old aunt, or some other distant relation, it had to be something of the greatest urgency to keep Bartemius Crouch from coming to the office and to keep him away likely for days as the missive had hinted. This last owl had revealed to Percy only too clearly how dire his personal situation must be. In any event Percy was not inclined to question his superiors, especially when they were someone of Mr. Crouch’s political stature and clout. His name still commanded respect, in spite of past events. The man had single-handedly masterminded the downfall of the Dark Lord during the last Wizarding War, he would have been the Minister of Magic, but for his unfortunate family ties. Things like that could not be helped, they had been outside of his power to control. Percy had always wondered how they could’ve blamed the man for his son’s actions. The sins of the son visited on the father. He could sympathize, Percy knew what it felt like being judged by the actions of your kin. Try as much as he did, Percy could never get the twins to stay in line, and truthfully Ron had acquired a nasty knack for following Harry into trouble.
All the same, past events did nothing to take away from the fact that Mr. Crouch ran the most efficient Department in the Ministry. Why, compared to Ludo Bagman…well, Percy wondered that the Tournament was even going to come about, considering the Head of the department of Games and Sports was spending most of his time trying to get people to place bets on the champions. This despite the fact that the champions had not been chosen before today!
With the arrival of the letter though, things had gone from mad to worse (insane really, cracked even) but Percy wanted to show that he was up to the challenge. Mr. Crouch had asked Percy to step in for him at the choosing of the champions that very morning at Hogwarts. Percy knew he had to be up to the task if he ever wanted to become the Minister of Magic. It was not a position just handed out willy-nilly to just any wizard. No, it had to be earned, through hard work and perseverance, like everything else in life he had desired. Nothing had ever been handed to Percy, he had gotten it all for himself through hard labor and much sacrifice. All his O.W.L.S. had paid off in getting him a job at the ministry, sadly his father’s connections had not been at the top or they might have helped as well. Still, assisting Mr. Crouch was merely the beginning. The road to the top was a clear path, he just had to work his way there.
Percy opened a drawer of his desk, paused for a second. There sat framed a picture of the prettiest girl in the world. At least she was the prettiest to him, in a lovely summer dress a girl with long, curly, brown hair was sitting reading under a tree. But for the moving branches and the way the wind playfully swayed the fringes of her dress it appeared to be a muggle photograph. Colin had taken the picture their last term, right at the end just before graduation. Percy sighed. He wondered how she was. Penny was working in the Department of Mysteries—she’d always been a quiet person, but Penelope like he was very serious about working her way up in the Ministry. He had been sure she would become an auror, and he had sighed in relief when she had chosen instead not to. What had surprised him though was when he had decided to break off their relationship. Of course he had a point, they were both very busy working there was not much time, at least at the moment for romance, and she had agreed. Still that didn’t keep him from missing her. He pushed the thought, as well as the picture aside and took out a plain looking book opening it to the middle. The pages of the book were all curiously blank.
“Hello, Percy,” the book said. The words appeared in his handwriting staring back up at him.
“Hello, Percy,” Percy said back to the book, picking up the quill and dipping it in the inkbottle then placing it standing on the no longer blank page. The quill began to transcribe his spoken words, as he sat back in his chair.
“How was your day?” His diary asked.
“Where to begin?” He sighed wearily.
“First, things in their proper order. Let me get the date out of the way,” the book wrote back, the date appearing magically. “All right.”
“Should I start with the twenty-one balloons? Or the part where I was trying to convince the judges not to let my brothers into the tournament?” Percy glared up at the twenty red balloons floating up in his office. All day people had been wishing him a very happy 21st birthday, and he had been correcting them, having to explain repeatedly how they had been incorrectly delivered. As the day progressed and he fended off singing telegrams, cakes with exploding candles, and other assortments of birthday hoopla, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps they were not so much misdelievered items, as objects sent with a more sinister purpose. Somehow or other he was sure Fred and George had had a hand in it.
“I’ve always thought it best to start at the beginning…” his book self wrote back. Percy smiled at his own joke.
“Well, I came in late to the office. I had to go to Hogwarts via Floo Powder…you can’t…”
“Apparate inside the school grounds…” the book wrote out. “We read Hogwarts A History before our first year, remember?”
*
“‘ad bucket-sized hoof prints that beast,” Hagrid was telling Percy who was smiling diplomatically as he dusted off slight traces of powder from his robes, the old groundskeeper walking him to the room where the other judges were already waiting.
Percy was not particularly predisposed to listen to Hagrid’s chat about the beasts he was intending to afflict his students with this term, though who could blame him having to compete for their attentions with the monsters the champions would be up against during their trials: dragons, sphinxes, a manticore, and Cornish Pixies to name a few. Percy winced as he recollected that nasty bite he had gotten back in Defense Against the Dark Arts his sixth year when Professor Lockhart had been teaching the class. As a member of the Ministry of Magic he felt it was his duty to listen, and inquire as to whether Hagrid had gotten the proper permits and permissions for each animal. It was not his department but just the same he was an acting official of the Ministry.
“This’ll be the room then.” Hagrid said, and none too soon, he thought to himself, Percy was getting a little too curious about how exactly he had gotten that Spanish Giant Merserpent. “I better be getting back to my class now Perce. I left them tending the Skrewts and…”
“Skrewts?” Percy asked, eyeing Hagrid curiously.
Just then there was the sound of horrible screaming, laughing, hexes and curses being bandied about coming through an open window in the hallway. “Those’ll be my students, say hello to Arthur and Molly for me,” Hagrid said pushing Percy into the room, rushing out closing the door behind him.
Percy made to object, really there had been no need to get so pushy, he fixed his hat, walked up to the table, with an air of importance, he was an acting deputy of the British Ministry of Magic he had to present an imposing figure, however much he did not feel like one just then. Swallowing hard despite his dry throat, he strode towards Dumbledore and the visiting school officials.
*
“There has to be a mistake!” Percy said, rising from his chair suddenly, all the color drained from his face. Mother was going to kill him. How that pair of idiots had gotten their names into the Goblet with the precaution of the age line and all was beyond him, but to have dragged poor Ron into their mischief too. Which was to say nothing of how Draco’s name ended up in the goblet or even Dennis Creevy—wasn’t that boy a first year? In any event there was no way in Hogsmeade that he was going to allow Fred and George to compete in the Tournament, much less Ron.
“I can assure you there is not,” Dumbledore said, as he handed the slips of paper to a scowling Karkaroff, who was eyeing everything warily as if expecting treachery from everything. He handled the slips of paper carefully—with gloved hands—on reading them he handed them up to Madame Maxime who looked on them impassively, and passed them down to Percy with a slight derisive snort. His outburst was most unbecoming.
“They’re going to get themselves killed.” Percy was saying worriedly.
He could just see those two going up against the manticore. Fred and George would be laughing because they never took anything seriously, then they’d see the manticore and they’d try stunning the thing with some bad joke, when that didn’t work they’d try throwing those idiotic wet fireworks of theirs—between them both he wondered that they a half decent jinx—and they would get chomped down, and of course it would all be his fault being the older brother.
He could already see Molly yelling at him, “How could you just let your brother’s get eaten by a human headed cow?”
“It’s not a cow mother,” of course he’d try explaining but Molly Weasley was not a person given to listening to explanations.
“Ginny Weasley?” Madame Maxime said, handing him another slip of paper.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” Percy exclaimed and was met with yet another snort from Madame Maxime. Had the whole bloody family dropped their names into the goblet? Where they that hard up for money? Nobody ever told him anything! Then again he was at the office most of the time.
“Obviously, there has been some kind of mistake,” Dumbledore said. “The Weasleys are too young to compete in the tournament. Ronald is only a fourth year, and his sister is a third year.” Dumbledore explained.
A wave of relief washed over Percy. He let out a sigh, and sat back down on his chair. His legs had been about to give out on him, he felt he would have fallen in a heap, he could already imagine them reading out his mother’s name, “Molly Weasley” or maybe cousin Wally but Dumbledore had not.
After a terse discussion, in which he had reasoned rather passionately against it, they had decided not to let any of his siblings into the contest. Fred and George would not be going up against the manticores. He had seen the aurors who had gotten the unfortunate job of wrangling the creatures for the Ministry. One of them could only talk in stutters, and Billy, well, he had developed a tendency to wet himself if you walked up on him too suddenly, which had finished his job as an auror, he worked quietly now in the mail room sorting owls.
“The handwriting’s the same on all the slips of paper,” Karkaroff said suddenly, but Percy so relieved with the outcome did not hear it.
“Still, to have been able to get their name into the goblet was a feat in and of itself. He would have lauded their ingenuity where it not for the fact that he was sure they had likely broken about a half dozen Ministry codes and statutes, likely flouting another dozen more. To Fred and George, rule breaking was an art form. Just how they were related to him always made Percy wonder.
*
He couldn’t very well go telling his mother on the twins. He was with the Ministry, surely he could handle the matter. What those two needed was a stern talking too, and when better than the present. Still there were two of them and only one of him, he wondered if he should not call for backup from Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Percy had dealt with his brothers before. This might seem like a laughing matter to most, but he knew better than to trust them. Somehow or other he always ended up on the receiving end of something vicious. There was that time they had decided to lodge a pouch of dungbombs into his room, it had stunk for weeks, or the time he had asked Penny over for dinner, they had enchanted all of his trophies to read Big Fat Head Weasley, where his name should’ve been. That of course was when they were not being particularly vindictive. Just before they had left for Hogwarts they had made him late for a meeting and when he had arrived at Hogsmeade on his broom he had found that they had slathered the seat in Bertrand’s Magical “Let Go-Heck No” superglue, blasting it off had not worked, so he had had to tear off the back of his robes. Suffice it to say throughout the meeting he had to make sure he gave his back to no one. But for his foresight it could have been a very embarrassing meeting with the visiting Swiss goblin delegation.
Percy was striding down the halls of the school, it was teatime so the boys were bound to be heading for the Great Hall with everyone else. It was easy really he would corner them and politely tell them off, and maybe he could get them to confess about the stupid owls and cakes that had been coming all morning.
“You want to do something for me? You can start by dying Potter!” The cold, haughty voice of Draco Malfoy came from around the corner, followed by a hex that sent Percy’s hat clean off his head.
“Impedimenta!” Came the all too familiar sound of Harry’s voice in reply.
Didn’t they know dueling in the halls was not allowed? He was about to protest but instead ducked a stray jinx. Running back into the main hall he turned around at the sound of his brother’s voice.
“Whoa there, boy!” Percy turned to see George. Just the brother he wanted to see, he squinted to look better. Was he flying his broom inside the school? It would not have been the first time, but really…
“Hey Perce, stop him!” Fred was saying from behind. He as well as a group of other Gryffindors were running after George.
Percy moved out of the way as he flew past. He wasn’t on a broom, and he swore he had heard the sound of clattering hooves. Hagrid had mentioned studying threstals.
Fred and the others ran past.
“I need to talk to you!” Percy yelled at the twins.
“In a minute Perce can’t you see I’m busy?” Fred exclaimed laughing as he ran, “Oh, and Happy Birthday.” He added winking as he flew past, followed by his classmates.
Percy stormed after them past the Great Hall, the giant oak doors of the castle opened, and George screamed, “Coming through!” as he flew out, the boy taking flight over the heads of Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra who were walking up the steps to the castle.
Percy stood at the threshold watching George flying around in the air, broomless it seemed, beneath him Fred and the other Gryffindors were shouting and laughing.
“No dueling in the halls Potter!” Came Professor Snape’s voice behind him. “Detention!”
An owl came fluttering by, a package tied around it’s feet. Professor Sprout and Sinistra smiled at Percy and said hello, all the while he was eyeing the house elf who come out to get the owl from the corner of his eyes. The owl relieved of its package flew off. The house elf reading the tiny card walked over.
“It’s for you sir. Urgent owl from the Ministry. Smells like chocolate cake though.” Dobby the house elf exclaimed. He opened the package and sure enough, it read birthday wishes for Percy.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday Mr. Weasley?” Professor Sprout remarked cheerily, he had been one of her favorite students.
“Happy birthday Percy. Twenty-One that’s a good young age to be.” Professor Sinistra remarked. Percy however was not amused. He wanted to kill someone, the twins seemed like good candidates just then. He could have them up on charges of interfering with Ministry business, which they clearly were. He sighed. It was going to be a long day.

~*~

Mission: Your character is Percy Weasley.

As assistant to Bartemius Crouch (who has been having a “family emergency,”) he has been asked to fill in for him at the choosing of the champions. Describe how absolutely relieved he is that his brothers are not going to be going against those manticores! And how sure he is that they violated some Ministry Code or other. What does he do about it?

Required Objects:
Twenty-one balloons,
Floo Powder,
Bucket-sized hoof prints.

[ronsmyman]

A Tri-Headed Tooth-Ache

Drip, drip, drip. The water slowly falling from the awning of the champions' tent was starting to grate on Fleur’s nerves. She had been in there for almost 45 minutes awaiting her turn to compete. Her stomach was fluttering with anxiety, but her lips were set in a thin line that reflected her unwavering resolve. She knew what she had to do. She continued to sit, back hunched, head forward, wand in hand. She absently rotated her wrist, going through spells in her mind. Every few moments she would accidentally cast an actual spell. The rubbish bin had long since scuttled to the other end of the tent, and what had formerly been Cedric’s seat had now sprouted branches and was slowly working its way out of the tent, towards what little sunlight peeked through the clouds. Madame Pomfrey had long since fled the tent having been supplied with an unwanted amount of bushy green hair streaming from her nose.

Finally the moment arrived. One of the more badly dressed Hogwarts professors came in and told her that it was now her turn to step into the ring. Fleur unfolded herself from the chair, brushed her long silky mane behind her shoulders, and walked out of the tent with a determined stride. The old lady (honestly, how could she possibly think that those green gloves could go with those robes?) showed her to a door and told her to open it when she was ready. Fleur’s stoic face faltered momentarily, but she soon recollected herself and haughtily pushed the door open.

A gigantic snarling dog greeted her with a warning bark from each of its three heads. Fleur didn’t even jump. Madame Maxine had been kind enough to warn her what was ahead, and she had been preparing for this moment for almost three weeks. Noticing a bone in front of the dog, she transfigured it with a wave of her wand.

“Ah, very nice wand work from Miss Delacour,” Ludo Bagman’s voice boomed over the stadium. “But this poor puppy won’t appreciate a harp as much as its dear headmaster.”

Something was wrong. Instead of dropping off to sleep, as Fleur had expected the dog to do when faced with the soothing strains of La Marseilles, the beast snapped the instrument cleanly in fourths with three swift snaps of its powerful jaws.

“Ah Secours!” Fleur breathed. That plan had been her best bet. Her backup plans had only been partially thought out. She took a moment to pace the pitch, marking the position of her enemy, and the small box at its feet, the collection of which would end the task, and ensure her advancement to the next.

“Isn’t that just like the French?” Mr. Bagman laughed. “ Pacing and muttering when there’s a job to be done. She should have followed our English boy’s example!”

Suddenly a yelp from one of the dog’s heads brought Fleur from her thoughts. She saw the poor beast scratching at it’s mouth, a splinter from the harp had wedged itself in between one of the head’s teeth. A sudden idea occurred to Fleur. “Il est maintenant ou jamais!” she muttered summoning up all the courage and magical prowess she could manage, and turning her wand on herself she muttered a complicated spell.

Before the audiences eyes, Fleur shot up eight feet, sprouted a huge bushy beard and put on close to twenty-two stone. Her pristine opal robes turned into rough, badly tailored, woolens, and her delicate feet, once shod in velvet slippers dyed to match her robes, were now roughly the size of small canoes, and covered in some unidentifiable animal skin. To the untrained eye, she looked exactly like that strange man who wandered the Hogwarts grounds tending to all of the animals.

“I don’t believe it! She’s transfigured into another person without the use of Polyjuice Potion!!!” Mr. Bagman exclaimed. The anger was evident in his voice, as if Fleur’s success would be a personal insult. “She could be Rubeus Hagrid’s twin! Wait a minute...no...she’s just made some grand superficial changes. She fooled us for a moment, let’s hope she can fool that puppy for a bit longer.”

Fleur’s voice was still had the high pitched nasal tones of the French people, but she unabashedly sauntered towards the dog, pulling a large toothbrush out of her pocket as she went. The head with the splinter stopped scratching at its mouth when it saw the toothbrush approaching and actually began to wag its tail. The other two heads continued to snarl as she approached, holding the toothbrush in front of her like a peace offering. Luckily the expectant head was on the side closest to the box. Fleur felt that if she were able to keep this one calm, long enough to grab the box and get to safety, she would have no more trouble with the task.

She was now but a few feet from the suffering head, she inched closer and closer until she was right next to it. The dog was comforted by her giant-like appearance, and even the snarls of the other two heads sounded a bit more friendly. She used a gloved hand to pet the pained head, while using the other to dislodge the splinter with the toothbrush. She didn’t think a splinter would count as injuring the poor beast, but she didn’t want to take any chances of being disqualified.

She had just gotten the piece of wood out of the beast’s mouth, and was inching towards the box, when a loud screech, as if from a sort of sound system, rung out over the stadium.

“Sorry about that,” Ludo Bagman proclaimed, when the awful sound had stopped, “Those things can happen.”

But the damage had already been done. The sound had jarred Fleur just as she was reaching for the box. She had fallen against the dog, which may have been okay, if she had been her normal size, but any kind of dog will become quite upset if a 13.5 foot tall, 34 stone person , falls against them, especially when they’ve just gone through the trauma of having a splinter stuck in one of their mouths. Fleur only had time to fasten her hands around the tiny box and pocket it before she was head butted from three sides. She felt something crack, but didn’t have time to dwell on it. She had gotten the box, and now only needed to exit the field. She set off at a run, her new height allowing her to cover the length to the door in four steps, with the dog shortly behind her. She felt a snap at her leg, as she fell through the door, and slammed the heavy portal shut behind her before toppling to the ground amidst the polite applause of the audience.

She put her wand to her forehead and repeated the complicated spell backwards. Her giant-esque appearance peeled away, and she was left on the ground with an aching rib, and blood from her leg spreading over her otherwise spotless robes. She lay there for a few seconds, wondering whether her injuries would count against her, since they had been sustained following her completion of the task. She soon found that the pain in her leg was mounting, and began to slip out of consciousness.

She woke to find herself back in the tent, her leg and rib had both been mended and she felt better than she had in days. The task was over, all that was left was to hear her score. That thought dampened a bit of her newfound energy, but she swung her legs over the side of the bed she had been laying on, stood up, and walked outside to face the news. As she headed towards the judges stand, she heard an oddly familiar noise.

“Non, eet cannot be,” Fleur said in disbelief.

The voice of her mother filled the entire stadium, screaming in mixed French and English. She peeked around the final dividing wall, and saw a bright red envelope clutched in Ludo Bagman’s hand.

“You could have killed my daughter!!!! Est-ce que vous êtes stupide? C’est irrésponsable!!! You deserve to be dismissed!! Ma pauvre Fleur!!! Si elle est mort, vous ne voulez pas connaître que je vais te faire!!! I will ‘ave you ‘ung. ‘ow dare you treat my daughter comme ça!!!” The howler screamed at Ludo, who continued to sink further and further into his plush armchair. After fifteen more minutes of this, the envelope finally burst into flame, but not before Bagman’s face had matched its bright hue. Fleur’s face almost matched his with embarrassment. She knew her mother would find some way to watch the task, but she had begged and begged her not to interfere. Now here she was threatening a judge from hundreds of miles away. So much for her score. Fleur almost sank to the ground for a second time that day.

“Well,” Dumbledore said, clearing his throat. “In light of this development. I suppose some of us ought to rethink our scoring.”

A smile tugged at the rest of the judges’ mouths as they leaned in to discuss what was to be done. Moments later, they each wrote something down and passed their sheets to Bagman, whose face, which had returned to its normal boisterous demeanor, flushed red once again.

“The scores for our final contestant have been er...altered in consequence of an ...unforeseen circumstance occurring with the loudspeaker systems...er...yes, and the scores for Miss Delacour are as follows.”

He shot a 6 into the air with his wand.

“C’est injuste!” Fleur scoffed

Madame Maxine shot a 9 into the air, followed by an 8 from Dumbledore, and a 7 from Karkaroff. Mr. Crouch added an 8 to the fray to complete to scoring.

“That brings Miss Delacour’s total to 38, putting her a point behind Mr. Krum, and tying her with Mr. Diggory. Well done to all the champions, and could we ask the three of you to assemble back in the tent for further instructions.”

Tied for second, this was not how it was supposed to be. Fleur, disappointed and angry, made her way back to the tent.

------------------------------------------
Mission: Your character is Cedric, Fleur, or Viktor. You pick!

Your champion enters the arena and sees a three-headed dog tethered at the other end. Unlike Fluffy, this one cannot hear! The task is to get past it and retrieve a box sitting near its tail.
What does he/she do to get past the animal? Does he/she get injured?
Include commentary on the task by Ludo Bagman, and how he uses this to either distract or help the contestant, depending on whether or not he bet him/her.
Include the final scoring for your champion.
Champions who kill or harm the animal are disqualified from the Tournament.


Required Objects:
A Howler,
A pair of green gloves,
A toothbrush.

[cherabela]

Spoken and Unheard

Thestrals. He wondered how the other champions were taking it. For he had overheard a plump Hogwarts teacher speaking to Cedric about their first task and Madame Maxime and that other big one from Hogwarts weren’t really unavoidable. It was a wonder how the external judges wouldn’t notice anything when they entered for the task knowing exactly what to do. He had only assented to take Karkaroff’s tip because he knew that the other champions had gained the same knowledge as well. He had no intention of losing this tournament, especially after the incident during their journey. Nevertheless, he swore to himself that from that moment he would work alone, refusing any help from the others, even Karkaroff.

The grounds were empty but for a couple of students shivering under a large birch tree. The wind whistled in the hollow branches of the trees. The earth below him was soft after the past night’s rain. With one look at the Hogwarts banners billowing on top of the towers, he strode back to the ship.

The squid out in the lake was shooting small squirts of ink into the air and watching them come down, forming ripples in the still water.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the afternoon of their departure he had been in cabin when he heard shouting from the corridor outside. As he opened the door he saw Staenvich running past. They were being attacked!

They rushed down to the lower decks, meeting anxious faces and with them came the squelching sound of water under their feet. They arrived in the bottom deck of the ship to find students trying to repair several broken parts.

Suddenly there was a loud crack of splintering wood, a piercing scream, and a girl appeared to be fighting off a huge creature’s tentacle. Many turned unawares at her cry of terror and started shooting stunning spells at the tentacle. At first it seemed as if it would surrender to their attempts, but it kept its firm grip around the girl’s waist; she was now near the point of fainting.

At that moment Karkaroff appeared. He had apparently rushed down the decks, for he was wheezing for breath as he brandished a black sleek whip from the pocket of his robes. He lashed with it at the tentacle, creating a large gash from which green pus sprouted. He lashed at it again and again, his eyes glaring at it, never blinking, until the tentacle loosened its grip and went back to its depths, leaving the students to repair the hole.

When Krum turned to the Headmaster, he found he had left.

Seeing that the girl was being tended to, he made his way slowly back upstairs. He had read on squids prior to their departure for the Tournament and though he knew that some were rumoured to be very vicious, they were not to be found in the area they were navigating in. Some squids preferred to remain in a quiet habitat without being disturbed, so why should one now seek to disturb them?

As they ate together that evening, thoughts on the attack circled like a horde of bees around its honeycomb. Could it have been desperate for food, or could they perhaps have unsettled its environment with their passing? Or could someone have made it attack them on purpose? Someone who wished to have a champion less at the Triwizard Tournament?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

During the next couple of days, Krum sought to look up information on invisibility in the Hogwarts library. Though his first encounter with the school librarian was far from pleasant, he enjoyed the peace and quiet the place provided.

On a particular Friday afternoon, as he was sitting at his usual table by the window, he saw a mane of bushy hair pass by. He quickly looked up from “Defeating the Invincible”, but she was already gone. Deep inside something told him to walk in the direction she had gone, and he let himself be driven by this mysteriously controlling will. He peered through the bookshelves, trying to appear as if he was looking for more material, and then he spotted her.

She was writing furiously on a piece of parchment as she gave the open book on the table occasional glances. Her bushy hair cascaded onto her shoulders and her eyes seemed to dance as they followed the pattern of her calligraphy.

The scruffy red-head sitting by her side was trying to balance his quill on his nose, while the other had jet-black hair and-

The scar was clearly etched on his forehead. So it was true that Harry Potter was a Hogwarts student. He didn’t look any different from a normal teenager, except for his scar which had made him legendary.

He crept slightly closer to the bookshelves, hoping to hear on their conversation.

“A thousand galleons. Blimey! Can you imagine how many Firebolts that would make? It’s enough to buy your whole Quidditch team!” the red-head was fantasizing. “What would you do Harry? Harry?” He snapped his fingers in front of his friend’s face who started and stopped staring at the walls as if he had never seen them before.

“What?” he said in a rather loud voice.

“Harry, are you all right?” the girl asked rather concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine Hermione,” he replied, though it was clear he wasn’t. “I’m just wondering about Snuffles.”

Behind the bookshelves, Krum felt a sudden jolt in his heart and in a slightly wavering voice breathed, “Herm-own.” As he peered at the trio once more, he saw her put her hand around Harry’s shoulders and at that moment Krum knocked over a book. Hermione turned her head quickly in his direction, and he stared back, transfixed by her gaze. It was as if somebody had made him swallow some Pepper-up Potion, except it descended slowly and warmly down his throat, tickling his insides gently.

All of a sudden he heard a giggle coming from somewhere near him. A couple of girls were whispering excitedly at the end of the aisle, fretting over each other’s hair and skirts. He saw the librarian making her way behind them, like a predator approaching its prey with caution. He decided it would be best to leave before he was kicked out of the library entirely for disrupting the peace. With one last look at Hermione, who had now fixed her gaze back on her parchment, he left the library.

He could feel his heart fluttering like it did before every Quidditch match. It was a curious feeling, but he liked it. It made his adrenaline rush through his veins, like when he was up in the sky flying and dodging the other players as he raced after the Golden Snitch. He hadn’t managed to talk to her, that was true, but he still felt a sense of victory deep down, like when at the World Cup he had caught the snitch albeit knowing it would mark their defeat.

On his way to the ship he saw the squid fooling around in the lake. It could have been this one. How many giant squids are you bound to find around? As he climbed aboard he saw it shoot two squirts of ink in the air and make them collide, forming a small fountain.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

That evening Karkaroff came into his cabin.

“Come Viktor. There is something I must show you,” he said simply.

“Vot is it Professor?” he asked curiously, fetching his cloak.

“Do not ask questions. I will show you.”

The night air was frigid and deathly quiet. Overhead an owl hooted, and as they walked Krum expected to see eyes bearing down upon them. A sign told them they were now in Hogsmeade Village. They passed closed shops and unlit houses. One of the pubs, the “Hog’s Head” was still open, but instead of going inside, Karkaroff led him into the blind alley next to it.

“Viktor,” he said, placing his hands on his shoulders. “I expect you may realise the real nature of the incident during our journey. I have reason to believe somebody does not want Durmstrang to win this tournament. We must not give them this chance. Do you hear me?”

Krum nodded.

“Stay here while I go see to some things. There is something I have to show you,” he said for the third time, and walked into the pub.

Krum waited silently, clutching his wand with a firm grip. Something scurried past him and he sent a stunning spell after it. The red light hit a glass bottle lying on the ground which rolled around, making a reverberating tinkling noise.

Karkaroff was not away for long. He looked behind him as if expecting to see somebody following, but he was alone.

“Now Viktor,” he said once more, like a father to his son, “what I want you to witness tonight is for your own good. I know you will not be impressed by what you’re going to see. This will help you. We can’t afford to lose this tournament, you must understand.”

Perplexed, Krum looked past Karkaroff at a staggering man who had just appeared at the entrance to the alley.

“Ah! Burins!” the Headmaster proclaimed, turning round. “So good of you to join us.”

“I don’t have all night Karkaroff! Show me the goods!” the man barked. He was leaning against the wall and his overlarge belly, which made him look like a stuffed duck, was too much for his wobbly legs to withstand.

“Why of course,” Igor said in a rather unnatural tone. He walked closer to the man and seemed as if to bring something out of his pockets.

It was then that Krum realised what was about to happen. His head pounded with the concussion of his crashing thoughts. Stopping Karkaroff would be like betraying his own Quidditch team. He desperately wished for someone to discover them in this abandoned alley.

Under his breath, he cast the first spell which came to mind. “Nebulia,” he whispered. The last image he saw was that of the moon casting its light on the two men, revealing them for what they truly were. He heard the man shout, “Wait! What are you doing?”

Although he couldn’t see anything through the fog which was invisible to the others, he still heard the ever-cold voice mutter “Avada Kedavra.” He heard something fall to the ground, and the glass bottle rolling again. It had ended quickly, as if this man’s life hadn’t been important at all.

He removed the fog enwrapping itself around him, because by now it had started squeezing his lungs and he was finding it difficult to breathe.

Krum refused to look at the dead body, lying in a heap by the wall. Without a word, they ran back to Hogwarts and the ship. He felt particularly cold and numb.

As they boarded, Karkaroff put his hand to his student’s jaw and looked deep into his eyes. “You do know this is for your own good don’t you?”

“Yes,” he replied in a low voice. He just wished to get away. This tournament was beginning to look as if it would involve far more hardships than he or his companions had ever imagined.

Finally the Headmaster let go of him. As soon as he entered his room, he collapsed onto his bed and fell into a perturbed sleep filled with dreams of clinking bottles, shouting, and a sweet girl’s voice which seemed to ease him every time.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of the First Task dawned bright and radiant through the ship’s portholes and he was greeted with many whoops as he made his way to the champions’ tent.

In it he found Cedric and Fleur already waiting expectantly. Neither of them had apparently said a word, and he himself didn’t feel like talking much. He had made sure that everything he would need for the task was ready. All that was left to do was to wait and hope that this would all be over with soon.

A very lively man, sporting blonde hair and a belly larger than his excitement, walked into the tent at a jog.

“Ah! Our three champions! I was just telling Bertha here how much you’re going to love this. I can’t wait to get started!” he said excitedly, rubbing his fists. The aura of joyfulness he transmitted was enough to fill the whole tent, though it did nothing to liven the champions’ spirits.

“Better get cracking then,” he said finally, noticing the lack of response. “Your task will be to collect some of the liquid from a spring which is being guarded by a thestral. You mustn’t spill any of it though, or you will have to start over again. Come out of the tent as soon as you hear your name called. Simple enough isn’t it?” He looked near the point of jumping up and down by now. Silence still reigned in the tent. “And now I think I can hear the students coming down to the grounds.” With that he was gone.

Their waiting seemed to last an eternity, and in their silence they seemed for a moment united, their rivalry forgotten. But it ended as Ludo Bagman’s voice was heard booming, “And here comes the Durmstrang Champion, Viktor Krum!!”

He strode out of the tent where a teacher with a gnarled face and an eye rolling like a quaffle gave him a small goblet and bade him keep moving onwards until he came face to face with a large patch of trees. As he passed through the green cover of nature, all sound seemed to dim and soon it was lost altogether. This was a relatively new environment for him. He walked on, avoiding the branches, and holding his wand at the ready for any sign of sudden movement.

Not too long afterwards he heard a growl coming from somewhere to his left and he took cover behind a large tree trunk just in time to save himself from the blast of a skrewt. He quickly turned and stunned it.

Unfortunately his passage wasn’t to go as smoothly as he had hoped. From behind a branch came a flurry of wings and a blue creature flew up to his face grinning wickedly. It was very quick, much like a snitch, and before he could stun it, it had blown some blue powder into his face and went off laughing. He cursed under his breath as he coughed and sneezed simultaneously. He couldn’t see at all.

Struggling ever onwards, trying to feel his way, he hoped to reach the spring and wash his face. With numerous stumbles, and after managing to graze his arms and knees, he heard splashing ahead. Feeling his foot land into something rushing and cold, he fell onto his knees, splashing his whole face with the water.

But his small victory was short-lived. Before he could open his eyes, something kicked him at his side and he toppled over. He had forgotten about the thestral!

“Acc-” he started but was kicked again and again. The meat he had made ready to lure the creature with would be useless. He had no way of knowing from where it would attack him as it remained invisible to his eyes.

Deciding of risking a run, he quickly took out the goblet, filled it with the water which he found had an odd brownish colour, and ran for it. He knew it was dangerous; if he spilled a single drop of it he would have to start all over again.

‘There must be a spell to put a lid on this thing,’ he thought, but if he had ever read of an existing one he couldn’t remember it at that moment. Left with the only logical thing to do, he covered the goblet with his bare hand and made his way back through the growth.

The pixie was gone, a good sign because in his current state he couldn’t quite manage with his wand. Yet to his horror, he found that the blast-ended skrewt had not abandoned its defensive position. In fact it had brought along two more and they were now bearing down upon him.

They seemed to take pleasure in blasting one after the other, watching him getting bruised and in pain. He rose from the ground, willing himself to continue, but two more skrewts appeared to block his path. How many were there? They were about to blast again…

All of a sudden the growling stopped. Krum, who had braced himself for the impact, looked at them flabbergasted, wondering what had stopped them. Taking a closer look he realised they had been stunned. A glance around him didn’t provide any clue as to the identity of the caster.

Did these people want him to win or die?

Since he had no reason for hanging around, Krum proceeded out of the cluster of trees where he once again welcomed his sense of hearing. The pain was making it difficult for him to walk any further.

The same teacher he had met before took the goblet carefully from his hands, gave it one long look as if expecting to see something particular in it and nodded to a man standing by the champion’s tent. Presently, uproar erupted in the stands.

He had done it! He had got through!

As he was led to another tent where a very concerned nurse started tending to his wounds, his mind fixed on what had truly happened back in the cover of the trees. Clearly nobody had noticed or he would have been disqualified. Who had decided to be his saviour? Who wanted him to win so badly?

Even when his score was declared (a six, seven, nine and ten), his mind would still not rest. Could this tournament ever be played in a fair way?

Perhaps the second task would help him find a more suitable answer.


~***~

Mission:
Your character is Viktor Krum

The first task involves getting past a thestral, which he cannot see! Show how he gets past his invisible opponent to collect water from the spring it has been guarding.
Since Karkaroff gave him the tip that it would be a thestral, he is prepared for invisible opposition. He has overheard Professor Sprout telling Cedric the same thing, saw Madame Maxime with Hagrid, and assumes that all contestants will be using the same help. He had no idea that the object he would have to collect was a liquid, let alone the requirement that if he spills a drop on his way back, he must start over.

Required Objects:

Blue Powder
a duck
a book

[AnimeEyeshime]

Verdant Yet Victorious

Going into the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric was confident that, even if he didn’t win in points, he’d do well and make his Housemates proud. When the Goblet of Fire had yielded his name over all the other hopefuls who’d put in their names to be the Hogwarts champion…well, it was an ego boost, to say the least. There were a lot of just-as-qualified-if-not-more-so candidates. To be chosen as champion made him realize that, especially since Hufflepuff was getting the chance to represent the entire school, he had to do marvelously. He’d done his best to practice to that end, applying himself more than ever to his schoolwork—which wasn’t very hard to do considering that the main source of his time otherwise, training for Quidditch, was a non-issue now.

He had felt a little uneasy when Professor Sprout slipped him information about the challenge that she had overheard in talking to one of the Ministry officials who was helping to put together the arena for the first challenge. The only thing that made him take it was Professor Sprout’s assurances that the other champions would know just as much ahead of time. “Cheating’s a part of the Tournament, though the Headmaster’s too noble to accept it,” she had explained to him gently. “You see, the other two schools will do anything in their power to win away a victory from us, in order to beat Professor Dumbledore. What we’re doing isn’t really cheating—it’s protecting ourselves against them.” He wasn’t sure he saw it exactly that way, but the teachers from the other schools probably didn’t have a lot of scruples involved with getting their champions into the best positions possible pre-Task.

The Ministry probably expected this and seemed to plan for it, since the information Cedric kept getting from various teachers was essentially the same. It seemed the tournament officials, whatever they might say about it being important for the champions to be oblivious going into a task, didn’t mind them getting a hold of certain information. About all Cedric knew was that a separate arena had been built for the challenge, which had involved the importation of at least two magical plants and at least one type of magical creature, though there was no telling the individual identities of the plants or animal. There would also be anti-flying wards—that information gleaned from Madam Hooch, who had been more than miffed as she told Professor Sprout of the difficulties her first years had encountered in attempting to fly near the arena construction site.

With only that information given to him to prepare, Cedric had faithfully studied up on his magical flora and fauna and looked up certain spells used to subdue certain species and practiced them until he was sure he could do them in his sleep—and, to the complaints of his fellow sixth years, had actually done so. Ian had been less than happy with him the next morning, having been levitated for four hours and losing quite a bit of sleep. He’d apparently had plenty of time to study for the day’s Herbology test that night, though, and he wasn’t so nearly as upset when he gleefully told Cedric he’d scored a perfect thanks to the extra cram time. Cedric declined to try it again though—he doubted it would turn out so nicely a second time.

So it was with only a little bit of hesitation that he made his way across the grounds the morning of the first task. He was running over all the things he’d studied, but it was like when one faced a big exam—you studied for it and knew you were well prepared, but couldn’t help feeling nervous all the same. A large white dome rose in the distance, its entrance flanked by a gaudy red, orange, and yellow tent. A giant pole raised the flags of each school—magically enchanted to rotate so that each school got an equal amount of time as the topmost flag. Cedric shook his head as he entered the tent. He understood why little gestures like that were necessary when it came to diplomacy, but it still seemed a bit over the top.

The inside of the tent was, thankfully, not quite so violently colorful as the outside. The walls and pitched roof were a kind of uniform maroon color, with benches parallel to each other on two of the walls and then the entrance to the special arena built at the back of the tent. Viktor Krum, Durmstrang champion, was already seated on one bench. He looked up briefly and nodded to Cedric, but just as quickly he went back to looking moody and contemplative. Cedric took the opposite bench, feeling the nervousness grow.

It wasn’t much longer before Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons champion, and one of the tournament officials, Ludo Bagman, arrived. Ludo beamed at all of them as he looked around. “Feeling nervous? Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon! I just need you all to draw a number from the bag—“ he held up a small silken bag with another smile, “—and then we’ll let you in. The task is self-explanatory—retrieve the golden box!” Cedric nodded. That didn’t sound too hard. They must have built some kind of obstacle course, using imported plants and creatures. As long as he didn’t run across something he hadn’t studied, he should do fine.

He drew first out of the bag, and also ended up with the first number. His hand felt numb as he stared at the giant one, and he didn’t pay any attention to the order in which Krum and Delacour followed him. Bagman gently pried the number from his hands, and patted him on the back as he shoved Cedric towards the back of the tent—and the entrance to the arena. “Everyone will be able to watch the Task, so don’t mess up!” Bagman said encouragingly. Somehow it didn’t help Cedric feel any better about it.

He entered the arena carefully, suspicious that there might be some kind of booby trap to catch the unaware straight away. But there was apparently nothing to be afraid of.

The floor of the arena wasn’t level—it sort of dipped, creating a valley. There was quite a bit of plant life, as he had suspected, but he didn’t see any Venomous Tentacula or Devil's Snare, or anything outright and blatantly hurtful. Off in the distance, he could see a block of what seemed to be some kind of solid stone, and atop it was a glimmering gold object—what must be the golden box the champions were supposed to retrieve. As Bagman had said, the task was self-evident. It was easy…too easy.

He walked forward, wand out at the ready, and began walking towards the box at the far end of the valley. Cedric had taken several strides without incident and was beginning to feel a bit silly about the whole thing when he, quite suddenly, wasn’t where he had been. In fact, he’d moved about ten feet to the right. Frowning, he took a step forward, only to be propelled backwards a few feet. It appeared that he had found one of the obstacles of the task.

Cedric tried stepping to the right, and was able to. Another step to the right, and he was suddenly forward. It certainly wasn’t the plants. He leaned down to look at the ground. There wasn’t anything suspicious about the grass. The soil was colored normally. But yet there was some kind of trick to moving forward in this place. He couldn’t really progress until he figured out what that trick was. For every bit of progress he would make, he would have to spend precious minutes backtracking. And, as far as he’d gathered, you were being judged for your ability to finish the task quickly. There had to be some kind of difference between the different bits of ground…

By focusing on the entire valley, there slowly emerged a sort of pattern to the ground. There were tiny separations in the grass that seemed to designate “tiles.” If he stepped far enough over that he was on another tile—well, he suddenly found himself in another place. That explained the boundaries. But there had to be some kind of way to navigate the tiles.

Or to avoid them.

Carefully, he studied the area not only in front of him, but behind him. Cedric thought he could see a sort of vague pattern on the ground, an unbroken “tile” that seemed to stretch all the way to the plinth at the end of the valley. It was worth a try to follow it. He hopped several tiles, ending up in various locations, before he managed to get back to where he had begun. The unbroken tile began at the farthest edge to the right of this first row of tiles. He took a few steps, and was relieved to find he was being teleported anywhere. It was a start. He just needed to keep a close eye on his path and not get off of it, that was all.

He had continued in this way for some time when he began to feel uneasy. It was too simple. There had to be more to the task. It was right about then that Cedric felt a sharp pain on his ankle.

“What the—“ Leaning over, he could see what had attached itself to his leg. A gnome. And where there was one, there was always a whole lot more… Wincing, he pried this first gnome off his foot and swung the little bugger around and let him fly off into the underbrush from whence he’d come. Three more emerged from the rustling bushes. Cedric realized he was about to get a whole lot of bite marks. He resorted to jabbing them in the eye with his wand and kicking them and just about everything else he could think of, but the darn things kept coming. It was about then he noticed a curious hole in the ground up ahead.

Trailed by multiple gnomes, Cedric forged his way forward to inspect the hole. It had wooden planks around the top of it, as if to reinforce it. The hole also looked as if it had vertical walls—which made it the perfect dumping ground for the pesky gnomes. Smiling, he plucked them up by their knobby heads and tossed them into the hole. As he tossed in a gnome, Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans came spewing out. Not a lot, mind, just a few for every gnome. Cedric thought it was a little odd, but, then again, Bagman had said everyone from all the schools were watching. Perhaps it was some sort of product placement for Every Flavor Beans.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he rid himself of his unwanted company. Eyeing the jelly beans, he decided to pick them up as well. They might come in useful later in the task. If not, well…he would just have sticky jelly beans in his robe pocket. It was better safe than sorry.

He continued along the tile, stopping when it looked as if he had reached the end of the unbroken “tile” of ground. The golden box was only a few meters away, but there was a solid row of the transport tiles in between it and him. If he stepped on one at this point, it would probably send him back to the beginning. I could jump it, he thought. It wasn’t that much of a distance. With a deep breath, he took the jump—and landed safely past the last transport tile.

That was when the plants started growing out of control. Cedric could see the vine actually growing as he watched, and it looked like it wasn’t about to let him pass. He decided it was finally time to whip out some of the spells he’d been practicing.

“Incendio!”

Flames poured out of his wand to confront the rapidly growing vines, but it was to no avail. The vines seemed no worse for wear—like they actually enjoyed the fire. Cedric felt a bit put out, but he realized of course they would make it difficult. So the plants were resistant to fire. What next?

The vines were becoming more of a problem. Cedric couldn’t move his feet without difficultly. He struggled forward, but it was hard to move with so many plants weighing one down. “Reducto!” he shouted, which had little effect. It made a dent in the foliage, but it recovered quickly, so it hadn’t been of much use. The vines were starting to constrict his robes around him, and one of his pockets was partially emptied. It contents, mostly Every Flavor Beans, spilled out onto the ground, as well as Cedric’s lucky knut. He’d found it on the Hogwarts Express, just before successfully asking out Cho Chang, so it kind of had sentimental value. And there was no way he was going to lose it to some crazy vine.

“Artico!” Well, if fire didn’t work, then maybe ice would…

Freezing the plants seemed to do the trick. If they were dead from cold exposure, then they certainly couldn’t grow anymore. Cedric carefully extricated himself from the ice, breaking a bit and having to refreeze ends of the vine as he went. He was able to rescue the knut and the Every Flavor Beans and scooped them back into his robe pocket. The golden box was close. He had almost won.

He ran towards the box, wand out, figuring he only had so long before the vine had some way to retaliate. He made it to the edge of the flat marble circle built into the ground, at the center of which the plinth rested. Tensed and wary, he approached the box. Nothing happened. He put his hand on top of the box.

And then, quite suddenly, he saw blue sparkles as he fell backwards. Blinking profusely, he opened his eyes properly to find several very nasty looking pixies staring at him with cheeky, evil little grins. They would import pixies…

Cedric had a flash of inspiration. It would be easy to just blow them away with a few spells. But why not try for originality? He was being graded, after all. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed a handful of Every Flavor Beans and then opened his palm for the pixies to see. “You want the sugar? You know you do. Go on. Go after the sugar. Go!” he said, throwing the beans as far as he could. The pixies seemed to stare at each other and then shrug and zoom after the sugary confections. It was one of the oddest moments Cedric had ever experienced.

The odd feeling didn’t last long. Shrugging, he picked up the golden box, and had to close his eyes as light suddenly came in from everywhere as the white dome opened and Cedric could see some of the crowds who had apparently been there all along, the majority of whom was busy screaming their heads off. Ludo Bagman descended from the top on a brightly colored rope, grinning. “Well done, Mr. Diggory! You retrieved the golden box!”

**********************
Mission:

Your main character is Cedric, Fleur, or Viktor. Your choice!

Upon entering the arena your champion finds what appears to be a verdant glen. At the far side he/she can plainly see a golden box sitting on a plinth and realize that is what he/she must retrieve.

Unfortunately it is not be as easy as it first seems. Your champion will encounter at least three problematic situations and have to overcome them. (Could the plants be flesh-eating, have tendrils, spit acid, emit a perfume which causes confusion or reverses his/her progress? Is the ground quicksand-like, unbearably hot or cold, sticky, explosive, or non-existent? Does something horrible or helpful live in the underbrush?) Anti-flying wards have been placed on the whole area.

Required Objects:
Every Flavor Beans,
An eavesdropper,
A knut.

[hp loving husban...]

Mice Sized Madness

“We better hurry if we want to meet up with Hagrid before Potions,” Harry said as he, Ron and Hermione hurried towards Hagrid’s hut.

“I wonder what he wants,” Hermione said.

“Dunno. His owl just said to stop by this morning,” Harry replied. “Said he had something exciting to show us.”

“Maybe it’s food,” Ron said hopefully. “I’m starving. We should have stopped at the Great Hall for toast or bacon or something.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s outside,” Harry said as they approached Hagrid’s door.

Before they could knock though, Hagrid appeared in the doorway and quickly ushered them into the house.

“Hurry up. Get in ‘ere before someone sees yeh,” Hagrid said, closing the door behind them as fast as he could. “Don’ want anyone ter know I showed yeh.”

“Showed us what?” Ron asked.

“One o’ the creatures from the first task,” Hagrid said beaming and pointing to a bare spot in the corner of the room.

“I don’t see anything, Hagrid,” Harry said, wondering what he was missing.

“Course yeh don’t,” Hagrid said proudly. “He’s invisible.”

“Oh,” Hermione gasped. “I know what that is. It’s a Tebo. They’re very rare. Similar to warthogs, but they have the power of invisibility and their hide is very thick, so it repels most spells. They’re normally a very aggressive creature.”

“This one’s ‘ad a Calmin’ Draught. Settles ‘em right down. Professor Snape made it. But don’ worry, it’ll be worn off in time fer the first task,” Hagrid reassured them.

“And that’s a good thing?” Ron asked.

“Well, yeah,” Hagrid replied. “Wouldn’t be anythin’ to get past ‘em if he was jus’ layin’ there.”

“So, the champions have to get past this Tebo. To what, Hagrid?” Hermione asked.

“You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously.

“I can’t wait to watch the first task. It’s going to be so exciting,” Hermione said.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I wish one of us could have competed though. We’ve faced more dangerous things than invisible warthogs.”

“Now don’t be tellin’ anyone I showed ye,” Hagrid warned. “Keep it a secret.”

“Who else knows?” Harry asked

“Well there’s me, Dumbledore o’ course, and’ the Ministry ‘cause they arranged everything. Oh, an’ Professor Snape too, ‘cause he made the Calmin’ Draught,” Hagrid added. “Madame Maxine an’ Kakaroff have been trying their best to find out, mind yeh.”

“They haven’t been trying to cheat?” Harmione asked, sounding positively scandalized.

“You’d be surprised, Hermione,” Hagrid said wisely. “Everyone wants their school ter win, see.”

“I hope that meathead Diggory can win it for Hogwarts,” Ron said. “Ah, speaking of meat, you got anything to eat around here, Hagrid?”

“Check the canister on the table, Ron. There should be enough rock cakes in there for all three of yeh,” Hagrid said, reaching down to pet the invisible Tebo. “Yer a sweet little fella, aren’t yeh?”

Harry watched Hagrid disbelievingly. From what Hermione had said, the Tebo didn’t sound very sweet at all.

“Agh,” Ron screamed from across the room. “Hagrid, something in your canister just bit me!”

“Well yer in the wrong canister,” Hagrid said, crossing the room to check Ron’s finger.

“What bit me?” Ron asked nervously.

“Don’ worry,” Hagrid said, lifting the canister Ron had stuck his hand into and pulling out something furry. “They’re jus’ mice. I found them in my pumpkin patch this mornin’.”

Hagrid held out his huge hand and revealed three white mice within his palm.

“They’re blind,” Hagrid said mournfully. “I thought I’d take ‘em up to the castle later on an’ see if Madam Pomfrey could mend ‘em.”

“You have three blind mice,” Harry said, fighting the urge to laugh as he remembered the old nursery rhyme that Aunt Petunia used to recite to Dudley.

“I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will be able to do something,” Hermione said, patting Hagrid’s large arm reassuringly.

“As much as I hate to say it,” Ron interrupted. “We better get to Potions. If were late, Snape will give us detention for sure.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione said their goodbyes quickly, thanking Hagrid for showing them the Tebo. On their way back up to the castle, they tried to guess what else might be in store for the champions.

When they finally reached the dungeons, it was obvious they weren’t going to make it on time. Rounding the corner to get to the Potions classroom, Harry heard Karkaroff’s voice rise in anger. Harry threw out his arm to stop Ron and Hermione.

“Listen,” Harry said.

Karkaroff’s voice continued to increase in volume. “You said you would help me, Severus. And now you’ve changed your mind. Unacceptable.”

“Keep you voice down, Igor,” Snape hissed. “I said I would help you and I will, but it will be on my terms. Not yours.”

“Fine,” Karkaroff muttered angrily. “But it better be soon. The first task is almost set to begin. I can’t let Viktor lose.”

Harry didn’t hear what Snape said next because Ron began whispering, “That traitor! He’s going to help Durmstrang cheat!”

“Shush, Ron,” Hermione hissed. “I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

Suddenly, an idea came to Harry, a way to stop Snape from tipping off Karkaroff. Opening his bag and thrusting his hand inside of it, Harry dug around until he found the package of dungbombs that he had bought in Hogsmeade.

“Harry, no!” Hermione said, seeing what he was about to do.

Ignoring her protests, Harry stucked his head around the corner, aimed, and chucked a dungbomb right at Snape’s head. In an explosion of stink, the dungbomb burst, sending both Snape and Karkaroff into a coughing fit. Taking advantage of their distraction, Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione by their robes and propelled them and himself into the Potions classroom, hoping the entire time that Snape wouldn’t notice them slipping into the room.

Unfortunately, everyone who had made it to class on time heard the commotion in the corridor. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered, all eyes were on them. Harry saw Malfoy smirking and knew that they were in trouble. Malfoy would tattle on them first chance he got.

Snape entered the room a moment later reeking like dungbombs. His furious glare found Harry and he held up a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry groaned inwardly. He must have accidentally knocked the book from his bag when he was reaching for the dungbomb. Snape had probably seen Madam Pince’s magical removable ink on the inside front cover indicating that he, Harry had checked the book out from the library.

“We will discuss this after class, Potter,” Snape said before turning his attention to the other students. “Today you will be brewing a shrinking solution. Instructions are on the board. There will be no need for talking.”

The rest of Potions went by quickly and uneventfully. When the other students filed out of the room, Harry stayed behind. Snape was waiting for him.

“Well, Potter,” Snape said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Harry replied coolly.

“What are you babbling about, Potter?” Snape sneered.

“I know you’re helping Karkaroff,” Harry blurted, unable to stop himself. “I heard you talking to him before class.”

“Eavesdropping, Potter? Did it ruin your day when you heard that trouble was afoot in the castle and nobody asked you to help? Does your attention seeking know no bounds? Surely you must realize that solving the mystery of the three blind mice will not bring you the type of glory that you’re accustomed to?” Snape shot the questions off one by one, his voice becoming nastier with each inquiry.

“What do Hagrid’s mice have to do with you being a rotten traitor, sir?” Harry said the last word as sarcastically as possible.

“How dare you, Potter. First you throw a dungbomb at me and now you’re wasting my time spouting nonsense. Detention. Next Saturday. My office. Now, get out,” Snape seethed, pointing at the door.

Furious and thoroughly confused, Harry left the classroom and hurried to catch up with Ron and Hermione. On the way, he saw Viktor Krum, who was scanning the corridor floor as if he had lost something.

“Pinky, Blinky, Dinky,” Krum called, still searching the floor.

“Did you lose something,” Harry asked him.

“My mice,” Viktor said, sounding very upset through his thick accent. They are loose. I must find them. They are blind, helpless. I do not vant to start the first task until they are found.”

“You should check with Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures Teacher. He found three mice in his pumpkin patch this morning,” Harry said.

“Thank you, Harry Potter. Thank you,” Krum said smiling gratefully and shaking Harry’s hand.

Harry watched Krum hurry down the corridor before making his own way out of the dungeons. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the entrance hall. He told them about his conversation with Snape and the incident with Krum.

“Karkaroff must have wanted Snape to help him find Viktor’s mice,” Hermione said once Harry had finished his story. “I’ll bet that’s what they were talking about before class.”

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Ron said. “I wouldn’t put anything past Snape.”

Harry thought that Hermione’s explanation was perfectly logical, but at the same time, he couldn’t help agreeing with Ron.




Harry, Ron, and Hermione got up early the next morning to find good seats to view the first task. They watched Hagrid drag a large, but invisible creature, which they knew to be the Tebo, to the edge of the lake. Tying the struggling beast to a tree, Hagrid left and soon returned with a black horse. A glowing bridle was wrapped around the horse’s head and Hagrid used this to lead it to the water’s edge.

The empty seats around Harry, Ron, and Hermione filled up quickly, and the Tournament judges took their places not long after. Harry saw Bagman shaking Karkaroff’s hand enthusiastically. He wasn’t sure, but Harry thought he saw Bagman wink at the Durmstrang Headmaster too. Before he could ask Ron and Hermione if they had seen the same thing, Bagman’s voice boomed through a magical megaphone and announced that the first task was about to begin.

“Welcome, welcome. Thank you for coming. You’ll be glad you did, for you are about to see history in the making. The school champions have entered the Tournament to prove their mettle and achieve lasting glory. As they risk life and limb for your viewing pleasure, we ask that you do your best not to distract them from their task. And what is that task?” Bagman paused to prolong the suspense.

“To begin, the champions must get past an unknown adversary to the edge of the lake. There they will find a vicious water demon known as a Kelpie. They must ride the Kelpie into the lake to a floating platform which contains the magical plant they need to survive the second task. The time it takes the champions to complete the task and the means in which they use to complete it will be the deciding factors of the judges’ scores. Scores will not be given until all three of the champions have finished. Sounds easy, ay?”

“Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons will be the first champion to attempt this task. Please put your hands together for Fleur,” Bagman called.

Fleur emerged from the champions’ tent looking pale and nervous. The crowd clapped and cheered. Hagrid unbridled the Kelpie, which began running up and down the shoreline. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore untied the Tebo. The first task had begun.

Fleur moved quickly to the edge of the lake. She had only made it a few steps before the Tebo knocked her to the ground. She was on her feet in an instant. Shouting an incantation in French, she spun in a circle. Brilliant blue liquid shot from her wand tip and arced through the air in every direction. Fleur let out a triumphant yell. Covered in blue dye, the Tebo was no longer invisible.

Staying clear of the creature, Fleur began making complicated movements with her wand, her hands moving so fast they were almost a blur. Within seconds, she had created a large net made of glowing golden threads that wound tightly around the Tebo, trapping it where it stood.

Wasting no time, Fleur ran past the enraged creature to the Kelpie. After two failed attempts, she managed to place a bridle over its head using a placement charm. Scrambling onto its back, Fleur rode the horse into the lake and to the platform which held the magical plant that she needed to retrieve. She was finished within fifteen minutes.

The crowd went wild, especially the group from Beauxbatons. Fleur took a bow before retiring to the champions’ tent. As soon as she disappeared, Bagman called Cedric’s name. Hogwarts was up next.

Cedric tried many different spells on the Tebo, including Incarcerous, Stupefy, Impedimenta, and a few others that Harry didn’t recognize. It seemed like all of the spells were rebounding off of the Tebo’s hide. Cedric was clearly becoming frustrated. The Tebo kept attacking him from behind, knocking him to the ground every few moments. With a look of desperation, Cedric waved his wand in a jerky motion after one such attack and muttered a combination of incantations. Finally, it seemed as though he had gotten lucky. The Tebo fell to the ground with a loud thump. The crowd applauded, but Cedric didn’t seem to hear.

Instead of waiting for the Kelpie to come to him, Cedric ran to the Kelpie. He bridled it on his first try and finished the task without any problems. He was done in less than twenty five minutes.

Krum was the last champion to compete. As soon as he emerged from the champions’ tent, he conjured a cage which he dropped over the Tebo. Moving on to the second creature, he bridled it as though he had been practicing placement charms his entire life. In less than ten minutes, Krum stood before the judges table, plant in hand.

After several long moments, Bagman announced that the judges were ready to show the champions their scores. Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all emerged from the champion’s tent once again, each looking very eager to hear how they had done.

Mission: Your main character is Harry Potter.

Describe how excited he is to watch the Tri-Wizard Tournament and how disappointed he is that he could not compete.
Show how, while on the way to class, Harry overhears a conversation between Karkaroff and Snape, which makes him believe that Snape is trying to help Igor win illegally. What does Harry do to subvert their efforts? Does Snape notice?
Include a conversation between Snape and Harry, in which each misinterprets the other wildly. Show the first task.

Required Objects,
A copy of Quidditch Through the Ages,
A pumpkin patch,
Three blind mice.

[lupinsmyman]

Triwizard Trials


Professor Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk staring up at the large round clock above him. Suddenly, as the clock struck eight, there came a knocking at the door and a raspy voice.

“Dumbly-dorr, eet ees us. Open ze door please,” said the unmistakable Madame Maxime. This is what Dumbledore had been waiting for. Now that they were here, the last month spent pouring over books and sending numerous owls to the Ministry of Magic was not in vain.

“Of course, of course! Come in my friends, sit down, make yourselves comfortable!” he blurted excitedly as he opened the heavy door. Madame Maxime burst in followed by Igor Karkaroff, who looked rather like he good use a good hairbrush.

After they had all seated themselves Dumbledore spoke, “How was your journey? I hope you found your accommodations suitable.”

Karkaroff nodded curtly before answering for what was on both his and Maxime’s minds, “Yes, everything was fine. Now, can we please get to the point? Thought your castle is quite welcoming I don’t want to be away from my school any longer than necessary.”

“Right then. As you know the Triwizard Tournament has not taken place for many a century; due to the many fatal deaths of champions. I was hoping- with the competitors safety ensured, of course- that you would be interested in competing in this once-in-a-lifetime event. I think it would be best to host here at Hogwarts considering you do not want the locations of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang so openly revealed,” Dumbledore said, trying not to look to anxious.

“And eef we do agree, oo shall be able to qualify for zis tournament and ‘ow shall zey be picked?” Maxime asked, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Only those 17 and above are eligible. We shall use the Goblet of Fire to select the champions. It has proved worthy before.”

“What new safety measures will you be taking, Dumbledore?” asked Karkaroff twisting his mustache.

“There will be at least fifteen able bodied people standing by in case anything goes awry and we shall put the utmost care into the tasks to make sure that they are safe.”

After about thirty minutes of silence Kakaroff spoke, “ The offer is very appealing. Yes. On behalf of Durmstrang, I accept your invitation Dumbledore.”

Now interested, Maxime too opened her mouth, “Eef ‘urmstrang ees competing, ‘zen zo must we!”

Dumbledore was happier than he had been in a long time. He felt as though he could dance around in a field of flowers in nothing but his pantaloons.

“Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! I expect you two are tired. There are two house-elves standing at the edge of the stairs waiting to take you to your quarters,” he exclaimed. Kakaroff and Maxime smiled and headed out the door.

The next morning Dumbledore awoke think that the previous night’s discussion had been a dream. He quietly dressed and ate his breakfast at his desk.

As soon as his tray had disappeared there once again came a knocking at the door. Dumbledore rose from his chair and welcomed Igor Kakaroff and Madame Maxime back into his office.

After polite good mornings Dumbledore spoke, “Now that our minds are rested we may begin to think up the three tasks in which our champions must complete.” He looked over his half-moon spectacles from Maxime to Karkaroff.

“What about an obstacle course on ze backs of my flying ‘orses? We could ‘ave a large net underneeze zem eef zey fall,” Maxime suggested.

“Your horses are far from tame, Olympe. I would not wish for our competitors to be flown all the way back to Beauxbatons before the task had even started!” Kakaroff said rather rudely.

“Eef you ‘ave better ideas zen let us ‘ear zem!” She snapped back. Karkaroff muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “giant,” and “problem”.

“A maze in our own Qudditch pitch. We can have obstacles that the champions have to get past,” Dumbledore said.

“I tink we should ‘ave zomezing involving water. My Beauxbatons students do love to zwim,” Maxime said

“As do mine,” Karkaroff added.

After about three more hours, lunch, and several ridiculous ideas, the three heads had four able tasks.

1: The champions must get retrieve something from a dragon.
2: The champions must retrieve someone from the bottom of the Hogwarts lake.
3: A maze in which the first person to touch the appointed object wins.
4: A test of knowledge where the champions must identify the creatures that they face and defend themselves against them.

“Well, my friends we have four tasks, but only three will we use in the Tournament,” Dumbledore said with a slight smile on his face. “There is only one way to decide which ones to use.” He took a quill and wrote the names of the tasks on separate pieces of parchment. He then whipped off his cap and placed the parchment inside it. “Ladies first,” he said holding it out towards Maxime.

She placed her hand inside (though it would barely fit) and pulled out a piece. Dumbledore and Karkaroff did the same.

“Maze,” Karkaroff said as he read his aloud.

“Lake,” Maxime said, following suit.

“And I have the Dragons!” laughed the gray-haired man. “Its is settled then. Now we must think up the wonderful little details involved in the competitions.


All had gone well over the past few weeks. Albus, Karkaroff and Maxime had worked out all the little kinks in the tasks, devised safety plans, and had them all approved by the Ministry of Magic.

For the first task the champions would have to retrieve a golden egg from a mother dragon without causing serious harm to the dragon or her other eggs. For the protection of others the dragons will be chained up.


For the second task the champions would have to swim to the bottom of the Hogwarts lake and retrieve they’re assigned person within an hour.

In the third task the students have to make their way through a gigantic maze, fighting off creatures that included a sphinx, blast ended skrewts, and a handful of baby acromantulas to get to the center of the maze. The first person to touch the trophy in the center, wins. If the students wish to come out of the maze before the center, they send up
red sparks.

Everything is going perfectly even with Harry, Dumbledore thought. He sat, once again, at his large desk going over last minute paperwork, his eyes twinkling beneath his half-moon spectacles. He yawned and blew out the candles and went to bed.

Sometime later he was awoken by a soft nudge in the back.
“Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor Dumbledore, sir. Sir must wake up. Moggy has news, sir.”

Dumbledore rolled over to find a house-elf he had never seen before. She was taller than most house-elves, had small feet, and a bottle cap shaped nose. She wore a neon green lampshade for a skirt and two gray cloth napkins pinned together for a top.

“Yes, yes, go on,” he said still half asleep.

“Moggy’s master says to tell Dumbledore, sir that Mr. Karkaroff, Ms. Maxime and Ms. Sprout have found about the drogonses,” Moggy said shaking and looking at the floor.

“What? When?” Dumbledore replied, now fully awake.

“Moggy does not know sir.” She was looking around very nervously now. “Please, sir, let Moggy go back to her master now. The bird frightens me,” she continued nodding toward Fawkes the phoenix sitting on his post. Dumbledore nodded and with a slight curtsy, she disappeared.

Albus was shocked. He knew he should have expected some cheating. But how did they find out? He thought Charlie Weasley had the dragons hidden deep enough in the forest that no one would notice. The problem now was that he needed the champions to be unaware of what they were up against. How would he fool them?

The next morning was bright and sunny but still quite cold. Only a few days before the first task and by now Dumbledore was sure that Sprout and the other two heads knew about the dragons.. He also knew that unless he went and laid his plan out before Karkaroff, Sprout, and Maxime, he would be chasing his own tail.

After he sent a student down to fetch Professor Sprout and meet him on the ground, he went outside where students were scarce due to the early morning chill. He soon came to the two large tents where Madame Maxime and Igor Karkaroff were staying. They were quite elaborate, even by wizarding standards. Moving pictures of centaurs, stars, and moons decorated the sides of them. Two large and equally impressive fountains stood out side. He waited a moment until A rather stout Sprout came waddling out in her bright yellow robes.
Dumbledore raised his voice, “Madame, Igor, please come here, I need to speak with you.”

“What ees zis about, Dumbly-dorr? Waking uz up at ze crack of ze dawn?” Shrieked Maxime. She poked her head out of the tent looking like she had jus t had a rather foul smelling nosegay shoved underneath her nose.

“Yes, Dumbledore, please explain yourself,” Karkaroff said emerging from the tent on the left.

“I have recently discovered that you have been told the first task involves dragons. While I’m unaware who told you this, I must assure that is not true. I meant to tell you this morning that the ministry disapproved of the dragons last minute. Charlie Weasley had then shipped back off already,” Dumbledore said, knowing he wasn’t that great of a liar.

“And, what is it the champions are going up against in their stead?” Karkaroff asked. He shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other.

“Quintipods. Ten for each competitor,” he replied coolly.

“And why did you not tell uz bout these changes earlier?” Snapped Maxime.

“My dear Maxime, I only received an owl late last night.”

“Are you sure there is nothing we can do about the matter Albus?” Sprout who had been quiet until now asked.

“No, Professor Sprout, if the minister says I can’t, I can’t.”

With the matter solved Karkaroff and Maxime retreated to their tents and Sprout and Dumbledore went back up into the castle. Little did they know word that the first task involved dragons had already spread to each of the champions.




Mission: Your main character is Dumbledore.

Describe how he managed to get Maxime and Karkaroff to agree to compete and how the three of them came up with the three tasks the students must complete. Include a conversation in which they discuss the relative risk associated with several possible tasks, and how they come to their decision.
Show how Dumbledore reacts when a house elf brings him word that Maxime and Karkaroff are cheating. How does he outsmart them, and his own Professor Sprout, to ensure a fair contest?

Required Objects:
A nosegay,
A hairbrush,
A pair of pantaloons.

[evlpez]

Man's Best Friend


Alastor Moody’s wooden leg thumped on the marble as he marched down the stairs towards the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Having just overheard Pomona Sprout in the staff lounge was the last straw. He was appalled to hear such blatant favouritism whispered between staff members. In a contest under such international scrutiny as the Tri-Wizard Tournament, even the host school wasn’t above being expected to behave in a more objective manner, even if it was in the privacy of the staff lounge. Constant Vigilance, he thought to himself. Never mind that she was out of line, but what if she’d been overheard by an official, or even worse, by a competitor? None but he and perhaps the knowledgeable Albus Dumbledore could possibly know for certain that the room hadn’t been under surveillance.

Just that morning as he headed to breakfast, he’d overheard that Death Eater, Karkaroff muttering something to his champion about heads. It didn’t take a seer to figure out that he had spilled the beans about Fluffy and the First Task. And now Professor Sprout was bragging to the squib, Filch, that her star badger would be prepared enough for the First Task not to make a mess of it. Why does Filch care, anyway? It’s not like cleaning up after Fluffy would be his problem, anyway. The contest isn’t taking place inside the castle. He stopped. Of course! They’re betting! He’d have to do something about this. It’s bad enough that people are cheating, much less that they’re betting on the outcome after the fact.

He detoured, heading through the great, wide doors to the school and into the afternoon. Hagrid wouldn’t take lunch in the Great Hall. Not when Fluffy was due that afternoon to give a big performance. Moody expected Hagrid to be rather nervous about his beloved pet’s fate. He cherished the great beast as though it was a bichon frise he carried around in a handbag. He chuckled to himself at the thought of Hagrid finding a handbag large enough for a Cerberus. No one could accuse Hagrid of being hard-hearted.

Moody found Hagrid sitting quietly on the back step of his hut, overlooking the tent, which housed the giant dog. A feeble attempt to keep secret the details of the first task, at least wizard space and silence charms enabled them to provide Fluffy with a large enough room to run and frolic with the oversized puppy toys Hagrid gave him, and it was kept relatively quiet. Apparently keeping the dog quiet wasn’t the problem. It was the staff. Someone had told Sprout and Karkaroff about Fluffy, and Moody was willing to bet it was kind Hagrid. He’d no doubt told the French Headmistress, as well.

“Hullo professor,” Hagrid said, getting up. “It’s not time yet, is it? I’ve only jus’ got ‘im calmed down and playing nicely with ‘is toys. ‘E’s awfully hungry, and it’s not easy ter take his mind off that.”

“No, Hagrid. Not time for that yet. I came to chew you out, actually,” Moody said, his electric-blue eye searching around for eavesdroppers.

“Chew me out? What’ve I done, Professor?” Hagrid’s eyes grew wide. He didn’t pay much mind to what others thought of him, apart from Dumbledore, but Mad-Eye Moody was a powerful presence and a man to be reckoned with.

“Quit callin’ me Professor, Hagrid. You know how uncomfortable that is for men like you and me.” Moody sat down. “How much have you blabbed about Fluffy, son?”

“Blabbed?” Hagrid went red in the face. “I never meant ter let nuthin’ slip, Alastor. Honest, I didn’t! But you know me. I get a bit friendly with people I like, and well... that Olympe, she’s a righ’ Lady. I’m sure she’d never do nuthin’ ter cheat, and I din’t see no harm in showin’ her how nice Fluffy is, an tha’ her girl wouldn’ta got hurt or nuthin’. I told her, ‘he’s a righ’ gentle pup and ‘e loves a nice bit ‘o music; calms ‘im righ’ down,’ an she felt much better about sending her to the task.”

Moody growled at him. “Well they all know now, Hagrid. The whole lot. They know what they’re facing and how to get past it. And there’s gambling involved. Confound it, son! I know you didn’t mean to, but you just need to learn when to keep your mouth shut.” He paused. “We’re gonna make this right,” he said, drawing his wand and standing up.

“Yes, sir.” Hagrid hung his head and led him into the tent.

Fluffy had grown some since he’d come into Hagrid’s care as little more than a puppy. When he was loaned to Dumbledore to guard the Philosopher’s Stone a few years back, he was about half his current size. It had been a blessing, wizard space or not, as it would’ve been much more difficult to get him in and out of the school at his full seventeen metres tall and forty metres long. As soon as Hagrid went inside, Fluffy’s tail sent clouds of dust flying as he wagged it, drool dripping out of three faces expressing the same, goofy dog-grin.

“Who’s a big baby, eh?” Hagrid cooed to the monster, checking the large, wooden bathing pool that served as his water dish. Fluffy knelt down and thrust one of his mighty foreheads at Hagrid for a patting, only to send Hagrid flying several feet onto his behind.

Moody gripped his wand tightly at his side as he watched this exchange. He’d have to make sure that whatever they did, it wouldn’t hurt the beast. A bit of an animal lover himself, he understood the importance of keeping on the good side of a creature like Fluffy. He widened his scarred face into a friendly smile.

“Who’s a pretty boy, then,” he called with a friendly growl. Four of Fluffy’s six ears perked up as two heads regarded him, sniffing suspiciously. The third head looked to Hagrid, who nodded and smiled.

“Tha’s Alastor Moody, Fluffy. He’s a nice man. Good man.” Fluffy’s tail set off thumping again. “Tha’s a good boy. Give ‘im a good sniff now, you be friendly.”

Moody reminded himself to keep any ounce of fear in check as he slowly approached the dog, lest he smell it and change his mind. He raised his hand up warmly to pet the nearest head, humming a surprisingly soft tune. The effect was instant. Fluffy lowered his heads and started to roll over onto his side, sending a great gust of air and dust over the men.

“Now what, Alastor?”

“I don’t suppose you know of any others like him around, that we could get here in the next couple of hours,” Moody said as he raked his leathery hands through the thick hair behind one of the dog’s twitching ears.

“No, can’t say as I do. Last I met anyone who had a dog like this was tha Greek chappie I got ‘im from. I don’t reckon he’s got another, even if I knew ‘ow to reach ‘im.” Hagrid leaned against Fluffy’s belly, scratching absently as he spoke.

Moody sighed. “Well there’s only one thing to do then,” he said, raising his wand.

Hagrid’s eyes widened. “What? Yer not gonna hurt ‘im, are yeh?”

“Nope. Not easy work, to harm a dog like this and get away with it. I wouldn’t try anyway. But we’ve got to remove his weakness, haven’t we? We’ve got to make sure he can do his part in the tournament. We’ve got to improve his defences and make sure that what they know about him won’t help them get past him.”

“Aye,” Hagrid agreed, dodging as one of the goofy dog faces swung over to lick him.

“Well, what’s the first thing those champions are going to do to try and get past him?” Moody asked.

“Play ‘im a bit ‘o music, I s’pose. Or maybe give ‘im sommat to eat,” Hagrid replied. At the word ‘eat’, Fluffy stood up, his tongues lolling out of his mouths and his front paws dancing a bit in anticipation.

“Right. Well, that’s first, then. Let’s feed him. We don’t have time for a decent deafening potion, so I’ll have to use some pretty complicated charms and hope those kids don’t figure it out. You go get enough of whatever he’ll want to eat and I’ll work on his ears.”

Hours later, Moody sat low in the stands nearest the rear entrance to the huge tent inside which the entire student body, staff, guests and other spectators were seated. His magical eye spied Ludo Bagman looking around nervously at the entrance opposite, checking his watch. Moody looked into the stands for Sprout, Karkaroff and Maxime and found them sitting with the rest of the Hogwarts staff, looking smug and confident. He chuckled to himself.

Bagman closed the entrance flap, approached the center of the arena and pointed his wand to his throat before speaking.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to The First Task.” Cheers rose from the stands and he quieted them by continuing. “Your champions have a dangerous task ahead of them, facing a fierce and dangerous creature,” he said dramatically, pausing to allow the crowd to hush to dramatic silence. He was good at this kind of thing. “Their objective is to reach to exit at the back of this tent. Upon exiting the arena unharmed, they’ll be given a token for their efforts and then judged by the masters of their schools. Let us hope they all make it through alive.” His voice rose as he spoke, and on the last word, the flap at the rear exit widened to allow Hagrid and a team of helpers guide Fluffy into the arena. Gasps, a few screams and nervous laughs erupted from the spectators.

Moody chuckled, trying to hide his amusement as he noticed Fluffy stop a moment to scratch at one of his ears. No doubt the measures he’d taken were still working, and the giant three-headed dog could not hear the audience.

Bagman continued. “The champions have drawn lots already to determine the order in which they’ll face this beast, though they don’t yet know what they face. The first to attempt this task will be the champion from Durmstrang, Viktor Krum.

Girls and quidditch fans squealed and clapped from all over the stands as Viktor entered the tent. His eyes widened when he saw the Cerberus in the middle of the arena, and he looked around the stands for support. Moody caught him making eye contact with Karkaroff, who nodded.

Viktor approached Fluffy, his wand drawn. Fluffy looked at the little man and gave deep, fierce-sounding barks from each of his heads. Viktor took a step back. Seeming to think about what he was going to do, he fingered the gold ring on his left hand, a souvenir of playing professional quidditch as well as he did. He looked at Karkaroff again before removing the ring and holding it open in his palm. He pointed his wand at it, and Moody felt certain he would shortly turn it into some musical instrument or other, but Viktor hesitated. He stuffed the ring into a pocket and searched the ground around him slowly, trying to keep an eye on the three heads looking at him suspiciously.

Viktor found a stick on the ground, thin and light, and picked it up. He cast an engorgement charm on it and it grew to the length of a sweeping broom, though twice as thick. Moody smiled, surprised that the young man had chosen to resist cheating. Viktor knelt down on the ground and looked up at Fluffy. He smiled and blushed, then started barking and scampering around like a dog.

Fluffy cocked his heads in disbelief, but caught onto the game rather quickly, being inclined to play as much as his size allowed. The earth shook as Fluffy scampered from side to side, Viktor feinting and laughing at him playfully. Viktor held the stick aloft and shook it at the dog, taunting him, then hid the stick behind his back. Fluffy barked and shuffled his feet, then put all three of his heads low to the ground, ready to pounce should that stick appear again. It did, this time Viktor threw it to the side of the arena and began running for Fluffy. Fluffy, preoccupied with getting the stick, stepped right out of his way and Viktor raced through the rear exit of the tent to the sound of cheers and sighs of relief. Unfortunately, Fluffy hadn’t decided that the game was over yet, and rushed at Viktor through the exit, pinning him to the ground and nearly breaking a couple of his ribs. It took Hagrid and his helpers a good ten minutes to get the stick away from him and return him to the center of the arena while Madam Pomfrey and her staff whisked Viktor to the infirmary tent close by.

Ludo Bagman approached the crowd again. “Let’s hear it for the champion for Durmstrang!” The crowd responded with cheers and whistles. “What say the judges?”

Karkaroff gave Viktor 10 points of course; Maxime gave him 7 and Dumbledore 9. It was a very good score.

Fleur Delacour was led into the tent next. Making no attempt to hide her intentions, she strode towards Fluffy without fear, her arms swaying gently as she began singing in a most beautiful, soothing voice. She took the pins from her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders in soft flutters, like wings. Her hair flitted around in the breeze that flowed through the tent and Moody could hear the boys nearest him sighing in rapture. Fluffy barked as Fleur neared him and she faltered. She sang louder, looking to her headmistress for support, but the dog’s heads lowered, growling fiercely at her. He stepped towards her in warning. She stopped singing and stepped back a little too quickly, stumbling over a rock and falling to the ground. She picked up the rock and threw it wide. Surprisingly, Fluffy was still feeling playful, and with some measure of dumb luck, he went chasing after it at such speed that he tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground. Fleur overcame her surprise and sprinted, making it through the flap in the tent in shorter time than it had taken Viktor. The crowd erupted in cheers, mostly by the boys and men in the stands, who were still rather star-struck by her singing performance.

Karkaroff, disgusted by her blatant cheating, to say nothing of the fact that he’d intended his own student to cheat as well, gave her 6 points. Maxime gave her 10 and Dumbledore gave her 8 points.

Bagman introduced Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts and the stands erupted in unprecedented support for the home champion. He smiled and waved a bit shyly, then faced Fluffy, who by now was a bit miffed that no one had stayed to play properly with him. The dog immediately took the offense and began barking viciously at Cedric, advancing slowly. Cedric reached into his shirt and pulled out a silver necklace; a likely token from one of his female admirers. At the end of it was a tiny bell. Moody squinted and shook his head in disgust. Cedric struck the bell with his fingernail and it began playing a tinkling tune. Fluffy didn’t care, since he clearly couldn’t hear it. Cedric’s eyes widened and he stepped back, wondering what to do. He put the necklace back into his shirt and pointed his wand at Fluffy, sending a few counter charms at him. None would make that dog hear the bell, of that Moody was certain. Finally, frustrated, Cedric sent stunning spells at Fluffy, shouting ‘Stupefy’ louder and louder, one after another in succession until the dog began tottering on his feet. He followed with a leg-locker curse and a ‘petrificus totalus’ for good measure, which distracted the confused dog long enough for Cedric to get past him without injury, but Moody was sure his marks would be lower than the others’.

Karkaroff gave him 5 points, Maxime gave him 7 and Dumbledore gave him only 8 points.

Moody slipped out the rear exit with Fluffy and his handlers and helped them get him back to his tent behind Hagrid’s hut. No doubt the poor creature would be grateful to have his ears fixed.

“Alastor! He did it! Well, ‘e wasn’t as fierce as they’d hoped, but he finds it hard, being such a loveable pup as ‘e is!” Hagrid made an awkward-looking attempt to snuggle the gigantic creature as he bent his heads to drink from his dish.

“He did very well, Hagrid. And they were forced to get past him fairly,” Moody replied gruffly.

“Tha’ Viktor Krum had it, din’t he? ‘E knows dogs, I’d wager. Treated Fluffy like a proper dog and got ‘imself the highest score of them all. Well done, I say!”

Moody went over to Fluffy and petted him as he removed the disillusionment charms from his heads, revealing that his ears had been tied and bound with pillows, blankets and quilts from the school. They made him look like a giant baby wearing two bonnets on each, enormous head. He removed the deafening and silencing charms as well, or those that weren’t removed by Cedric’s attempts. Fluffy shook his heads, sending a shower of drool over them both and they laughed a bit until Fluffy tried to start wrestling with them.



Mission: Your main character is Mad-Eye Moody.

You see cheaters and well meaning helpers scurrying everywhere, ruining fair play. How does he punish or outwit the little (and some not so little) scamps? He cannot turn them ALL into ferrets!
The first task is to get past a three-headed dog, and somebody has let slip just how to get past it (Just play a little bit of music).
Describe how Moody teams up with Hagrid to replace Fluffy with a deaf dog, to prevent this scheme from working.
Include the first task, each contestant attempt, and how they deal with their pre-Task research not working.

Required Objects:
A gold ring,
A bell,
Pins.