126341 to 1
“And now master wand maker Mr. Ollivander, owner and scion of the family business that has been producing fine wands since 382 BC, will now inspect the contestant’s wands,” Cornelius Fudge announced, giving a heavy pitch to the business for the television. He smiled, knowing that about 70% of all wizarding households now had a television and were watching closely. What he didn’t know is that the camera made him look pasty and rotund. They say the camera puts on ten pounds, so Fudge must have had about twenty on him.
Ollivander was impressed by the wands of Fleur, Krum and Cedric. He then turned to the blonde Russian and held out his hand. “Your wand please miss?”
Illyana raised an eyebrow at him. “I am Illyana Rasputin, Magik, Mistress and Sorceress Supreme of Limbo. I do not have anything so parochial as a ‘wand.’”
“All contestants must have a tool to focus their power!” insisted the wandmaker. The mutant hefted her soulsword and stabbed the stone at her feet, letting the blade glow with power.
“I can assure you, the might of my soulsword is quite sufficient,” she said. Ollivander, visibly disturbed, nodded once in acquiescence and turned to the pink and black haired Pixie.
“You’re wand please?”
“I’ve got a dagger,” she said, waving the pink blade around. She bounced as she did so, somehow still appearing perky while wielding a glowing stabby object.
“Oh, uh, very well,” he said. “Harry Potter, yes, 11 inches long, made of holly, with a phoenix feather as its core. And of course, no need to check Arthur Bea Wilson’s wand.”
Harry angrily pulled on his mask and Arthur Bea Wilson stomped his foot. “What? Am I not good enough? Just because I’m the son of the greatest assassin and mercenary the world has ever known, and you don’t have the time of day for me? I’m just as much a contestant as anyone else here!”
“I’M NOT CHECKING YOUR WAND BECAUSE YOU’RE REALLY HARRY POTTER WITH A GOD DAMN MASK!!!!!” “Who’s Harry Potter?”
Arthur Bea Wilson asked.
And that was when the Wizarding World discovered facefaulting.
“Fine! I’ll check your wand,” the old man hissed. Arthur handed him a nasty looking device. “What the bloody hell is this?” “Smith and Wesson, eighteen inches, carbon steel with a silver buckshot core,”
Arthur explained. “It’s a special order and can switch from single shot to fully auto with a flip of a switch.”
“This isn’t a wand! It’s an arquebus!” “Oh, come on!”
Arthur whined. “It’s a gun. Just call it a gun; specifically a shotgun, but just a gun.”
“Why can’t you just use your wands? You bought three from me!” “No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did!”“No I didn’t!”
“Yes you did!”
“Now look, this isn’t an argument,” Dumbledore cut in. “Of course it’s not,”
Arthur said. “An argument is a series of statements designed to support a proposition. This is just simple contradiction.”
“Well if I’m going to argue with you, I have to take a contradictory side,” pointed out Ollivander. “Yes, but it isn’t just saying
‘yes you did,’”
Arthur Bea Wilson responded derisively.
“Yes it is.” “No it isn’t!”
The first part was obviously dragons. It was abundantly obvious to pretty much everyone when they started moving dragon cages onto Hogwarts grounds. Or they were setting up a draconic all-you-can-eat-buffet.
“That’s highly unlikely,” Pixie said.
Was that spoken out loud?
“Yup,” said the girl.
“Inner monolog problems again?” she asked. “I don’t really know what that is, but you seem to have those problems a lot.”
How right she was.
“Of course I’m right!”
Right, so anyways: dragons.
Yeah, they rounded up the whole bunch and caged them up.
Some guy with a googly eye told Harry to check them out, but hey, Harry wasn’t one to obey authority figures, so Harry decided to try and get the girl’s chorus to do jumping jacks. He was starting to get past the dinosaur phase.
“That was pretty mean,” Pixie said derisively. “They didn’t even know what you were making them do.”
And for some reason Pixie’s disapproval was starting to matter to Harry in ways he didn’t fully understand. It was probably part of that stupid puberty truck accident. And he must have said that out loud because suddenly the pink haired girl was grinning wildly.
So, the next day happened.
Oh, right, I should probably tell you what happened.
Dragons, so all the contestants needed to decide on their dragons. First was Fleur, then was Krum, then Cedric and then the first exciting match began.
Illyana Rasputin verses the Catalonian Fireball.
“Bah,” spat the Russian mutant. She glared at it like it was a minor nuisance, much like ants in the garden or a mouse in the barn. The dragon flew up, the wings beating down the air like the engines of a supersonic jet. Spectators covered their heads and ducked away from the resulting dust cloud, but Magik ignored them all. “Fool, for one such as I, who has survived the pits of Limbo, died of virus, and returned to live and conquer my realm once more, this is but a minor distraction.”
And with that, she drew her sword in a slow deliberate motion, casually deflecting the blast of firebreath sent her way. She conjured up her teleportation disk and appeared above the furious beast. Landing on its back, she cut off its head.
It landed in a heap less than a meter from the spectators, splattering them with blood and gore.
Harry looked at Pixie and grinned. “I give it a 10.”
The real judges were less impressed because she wasn’t supposed to kill the dragon.
Harry was up next. Everyone thought he was rather unfortunate to have pulled a Hungarian Horntail, but Harry Potter wasn’t worried. Nor was he even remotely concerned. This made most people think he was certifiably insane, which, as we all know, is probably true.
Harry walked out into the sunlight, to the sound of the cheering crowds and waved at them all. He made sure the cameraman got his good side, which, in Harry’s mind, was every side.
It should be noted that that the Wizard Tournament (as the Ministry had decided to call it, instead of trying to find a sane name for a competition that had 7 contestants) was shown in all the Wizarding households who had purchased one of the “magic boxes” and had it connected to the “magic cable.” What they didn’t know is that it was just a regular TV with cable and they were all being hit for a big fine each month for power and a whole bunch of channels they didn’t know they were paying for, even if it was just basic cable. They also didn’t know was that the Wizard Tournament was actually being broadcast by ESPN on basic cable and was bringing in the biggest audience since they started broadcasting. It was also on Pay-per-view on satellite. The Wizarding World was currently and constantly exposed to the whole world, and they didn’t even know it.
It was also gathering a rather large number of fans. In particular a number of powerful figures were keeping a close eye on things. One specific Latverian dictator called up his aquatic friend to place a little bet.
“DOOM puts five million on the pink haired girl,” Dr. Doom said into the phone.
“Ignorant surface fool!” Namor bellowed into the other end. “It is perfectly clear that Rasputin will prevail! The odds are 126341 to 1 against Gwynn!”
“NEVER QUOTE DOOM THE ODDS!!!”