House of Cards Stacked Too High.
“At last we will announce the results of the Goblet of Fire!” Dumbledore said to thunderous applause.
“Representing Durmstrang is…………….Viktor Krum!” Staffs pounded on the floor in salute as the Quidditch player ran up to take his place.
“Representing Beauxbatons is…………….Fleur Delacour!” Wolfwhistles and groans abounded as she took to the stage. Those whistles and groans were pretty much divided along the sexual preference line.
“Representing Hogwarts is ………………..Cedric Diggory!” Pretty much everyone cheer except the Slytherins, because they were sticks in the mud and a few other would-be contestants. The Hufflepuffs sent up a great “Forward the Revolution!” cheer in Latin, but since no one really knows correct Latin in the Wizarding world, no one but the Hufflepuffs and some of the visitors from Xavier’s really understood.
“Representing the New Mutants is………………Illyana Rasputin!” Since there were two basic classes at the School for the Gifted, they were allowed to enter two contestants. Since Illyana had never graduated before she died that last time, she was still technically a student of the previous incarnation of Xavier’s Institute for Higher Learning. Illyana walked purposefully to the podium. People clapped politely because she really scared the dickens out of pretty much everybody except for Harry. She carried a glowing pink broadsword in public. You just don’t piss those people off.
“Representing Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters is…………Megan Gwyn!” Pixie waved cutely and flew to the stage before blowing a kiss at Harry and glaring at Magik. Loosing part of one’s soul can do that to a person. There were still quite a few polite cheers.
“And there you have it-“ Dumbledore cut himself off as another name flew out of the Goblet of Fire. He pulled it up and read the name. “Who the hell is Arthur Bea Wilson?”
Everyone in the know moaned pitifully, except for Pixie and Harry; she giggled and he pulled on his mask. But before he could even take the podium, another name popped out.
“Harry Potter?” Dumbledore asked confused. “Is this thing broken?”
“Awesome! I’ll have to get cloned so I can do this twice!”
It was later decided that Harry would not be cloned as that would be a very bad thing.
“So, the name was planted successfully?” the elder Malfoy asked.
“Indeed,” Bartimous Crouch Jr. said with reverence to his lord, the squirmy aborted baby thingy on Malfoy’s knee.
“You have done well,” croaked out Voldemort. “Soon I will be restored and we shall take our rightful place in society.”
“By your command,” Crouch said, giving him a salute. He turned and teleported away. Malfoy looked down at his master with a confused look.
“Is it just me or did Crouch’s eyes flash side to side?”
“Don’t be foolish!” his master spat.
“Mr. Black,” said a familiar voice from behind him. Sirius, the last scion of the mighty wizarding family, turned to see a fully decked out Nick Fury.
“It’s time for you to deploy,” Fury said. “You’ve completed your training. Here’s your image inducer and communications.”
“What’s my cover?”
“It’s all in this folder,” Fury said, handing the man a thick mania folder with TOP SECRET stamped across the front. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
And then the super-secret agent walked off into the shadows.
Sirius Black opened the folder and grinned.
“Hark! ‘Tis with mightily valor that Young Sir Neville did complete his training,” Sif told Odin proudly.
“And his Quest for the Dwarven Draught?”
“Most Heartily completed, Lord All Father,” Brunnhilde intoned. The one eyed god nodded in satisfaction.
“Rise,” He said, towering above the former Hogwarts student. Anyone who knew Neville from before would hardly recognize the strapping youth that stood before them now. Gone was the stutter, the baby fat and the lack of confidence. Now, with long black hair worn in the Nordic style and rippling muscles, he looked more like Conan (the Barbarian, not the Comedian) than a normal wizarding student. “See now before you, ‘tis not the man child we did once see, but now, behold, Neville: Warrior, Wizard, and Hero.”
“Thank you Lord Odin,” he said in reverence.
“Go now, take thy sword gifted upon you by Heimdal and return,” the All Father said. “Midgard doth need one such as you.”
“I shall live my life with Valor as required of me,” Neville replied with a kneeling salute.
“I hath no doubts that you shall,” Odin said with pride. “Go, We shall speak again once thou doth join the ranks of Valhalla.”
As the Asgardians cheered the newly forged Hero, Brunnhilde, the Valkyrie of Valkyries, grabbed him and bent him backwards before planting a massive kiss on his lips. The cheering rose to such a cacophony that the walls of the Asir threatened to fall from the vibrations. Neville stumbled slightly after finishing the kiss and made his way back down Bifrost and into Midgard proper.
Next time: There will be dragons!