Hokay, as always, this station is not affiliated with anything that may or may
not have been typed, said, described, or acted out in horrifying detail!
*The curtain falls, the screen flickers, and the orchestra begins*
“Hey, Harry,” Hermione said. “Wotcha do-in?”
“Oh, hey, Hermione,” Harry said. “We were just watching to see who gets to play in the TriWizard Tournament! So far it’s pretty diverse. We’re got Viktor Krum, from Mongolia-”
“I thought he was Bulgarian,” Ron said, blinking in surprise.
“Nah. Well, he is, but that’s because his parents fled from Mongolia to escape the Technosocialist Regime.”
“What’s so wrong with that?” Hermione demanded.
“Their medical care consists of replacing your broken arm with a prosthetic ion cannon.”
“Again,” Hermione said dangerously, her hand reconfiguring into a complicated multitool, “What’s so wrong with that?”
“….Ookay,” Harry said, turning back to the main hall. “Anyway, after Krum the cup picked Fleur Delacour- she’s that girl Ron’s crushing on, remember?”
“Like a mocha goddess…” Ron mumbled dreamily.
“But the Delacours are part-Veela!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Hermione…” Harry said disappointedly. “Just because one clan looks exactly like a murder of female Dracos doesn’t mean they all do! Next you’ll say all Klingons have ridged foreheads!”
“And the third contender is… Cedric Diggory!
“Huh, the cup really went for obscure there,” Harry said.
“Why’s that, Harry?” Hermione asked. “Cedric’s English.”
“Yeah, but he’s also Hufflepuff. Nobody knows what they are.”
“But it’s true!” Harry protested.
“Harry,” Hermione said faintly, “That wasn’t me.”
Harry turned around and blinked.
“Huh. Ron, I think I know what we’re gonna do today.”
“Sorry, only the champions are allowed into the tent,” Percy said imperiously.
“Oh, these guys are my pit crew!” Harry replied cheerfully.
“They’re part of my team!”
“You can’t have a team! Each champion has to compete alone!”
Hermione stepped forward. “Under Code III, Section 2, Subsection A-104-3/5.2, under the heading of “Heroes and/or Villains”, Villains are allowed an unlimited number of minions with an under level two competence rating, as well as up to three (3) disposable lieutenants and one (1) loyal second. Heroes are allowed to gather either a) A Ragtag Band of Misfits (see Section 5a, under Seven Samurai) or b) A Five Man Band. Note, (a) is only allowed if facing death and/or injustice (see Subparagraph 9c-4-Banana “Overturning the Local Government” (requires Level X Clearance, please fill out form TR-3450-N at your local Azkaban receiving office))”
“A Five Man Band may consist of up to and no more than the Hero-”
“That’s me!” said Harry.
“Cheers,” Ron waved.
“The Chick, (myself of course), the Brawn-”
Pansy looked up from her pie. “What?”
“And normally I would also be the Brain, but today we’ve asked Colin to substitute since Neville isn’t around.”
“They promised me pie!” Splat.
“…thank you, Pansy. Mm, cherry!”
“Say,” Harry scratched his head, “Where is Neville anyway?”-----A!Gent!Ennnnnnnn!-----
Neville tiptoed into the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. He checked to his left and to his right to make sure nobody (and no ghost) was around. Taking out a garden snake, he held it up to the sink and yanked on its tail. The snake hissed
and the sink and the wall behind it split in half, the left part moving into the ceiling and the right sinking into the ground. Neville held his nose and jumped down the slick passage. After a long, slippery ride, he yanked on the snake again to get to the inner chamber, and pulled out a soup bowl. Filling it with water, he stared into the bowl and was immediately sucked in.
Upton Uncial was standing in front of a roaring fireplace, holding a wineglass and dressed in a rich red bathrobe. The troll was looking away when Neville arrived. “Hedwig, are you sure this will work? I mean, for God’s sake, it’s a memory!
“Fine, fine. I just think-
“Oh, he’s here? Ahem! Good morning, Agent N!
” The troll glanced to the side. “It will be morning then, right?
” he murmured.
” Despite not seeing Harry’s owl, Neville could tell she was rolling her eyes.
“Right, then! Good morning!
” Upton paused. “What if he’s asking how my morning is? It would be rude not to answer. Is there any way to tell?
“Sorry, sorry! Ahem. Good morning, Agent N, and what a fine morning it is! Unfortunately, by the time you receive this message, Voldemort will be up to something! We’ve determined that his new secret hideout is in a graveyard, so it probably involves vampires or zombies, or maybe even vampire-zombies. Get out there, and find out! Oh, and I’d join a religion if I were you. Vampire-zombies can get real nasty. I hear Wizentology lets you do a one week trial for ninety galleons!
“Fine, you can have a five man band, but that still doesn’t explain the rest!” Crouch spluttered. “Who in the world are these, these, these… are they even witches?”
“Why, we’re her muggle slaves!” Jane said cheerfully. “I was kidnapped right out of my quite ordinary bed.”
“Lost a bet,” Libby shrugged.
“eBay.” Georgiana smiled.
“I was promised pie, too!” Evie said. “Can I have some of that…?”
“Oh, woe is me!” Millie cried dramatically, staggering backward with an arm over her forehead, “For I was captured in a great battle as the spoils of war!”
“My mom sold me,” Lucy said.
“And, well, the benefits seemed good to me at the time,” Mary finished.
“Jolly good, then, jolly good,” Bagman said genially, “As long as it all works!” He patted Mr. Crouch on the shoulder. “I expect you’ll be announcing the first task then, eh, Barty?”
Mr. Crouch stared at Bagman and then shook himself. “Whatever. The first task is… dragons. You are to each steal a golden egg from the dragon whose replica you pull out of the sack Mr. Bagman is holding.”
“Kinda makes me the bag-man, wot?” the cheerful sportsman winked.
Mr. Crouch shuddered. “Contestants, if you will,” he said, waving toward the bag. All of the contestants went forward to grab a miniature.
“A Hungarian Horntail!” Harry exclaimed. “People?”
“Based on the model’s proportions and given the average size of a Hungarian ice-cream vendor, your opponent is between 15.1 and 16.2 meters in length and approximately 8.3 meters in height,” Jane said, quickly working through her slide-rule.
“The weak points are probably here, here, and here,” Lucy said, her fingers nimbly avoiding the mini dragon’s attempts to eat them. “But it’s also dragon-hide, and that’s got a toughness index of, what?”
“At least 300 GPa, which is around three hundred thousand-million Joules per meters cubed,” Hermione said quickly. “Most wizards have trouble breaking 200 GPa, which is why dragon-hide is so sought after.”
Harry turned to Ron. “You know what this means?” he said, grinning.
Ron flipped a pair of sunglasses down. “Mechadragon fight.” -----o/~ Voldemort’s E-evil La-ir! ~/o -----
“AHA!” Voldemort shouted as Neville kicked through the door. “Neville the New Guy! What an unexpected surprise! And by unexpected I actually mean completely unexpected, what the heck are you doing here?!
You’re supposed to be in the tournament!”
Neville gave Voldemort a really weird look.
“You know, the Tri-Wizard Tournament? I had this eeeevil
plot where my servant would disguise himself as your teacher and sneak your name into the cup, and then, when you least suspect it- help you win the tournament!
It was supposed to be this ironic twist, you know, where he’s actually evil but he’s… why are you giving me that stare? It’s a good plan!”
“It’s this look, isn’t it? You’re freaking out about my look.” He pushed himself upright. “Well, it’s not like I asked
for this. I wouldn’t even be
here if it weren’t for someone killing my last body.
” He toddled precariously for a moment. “And you know what? Possessing a baby sucks! You’ve got naptime and diapers and rashes, and you always want to suck on something. It’s really freaky, let me tell you.” Voldemort braced himself. “But no more! Once my evil plan goes through, I’ll finally have my body back, and then! I will conquer the en-TIRE UNI-TED KINGDOM! Mwahahahahahaha!
He paused. “So if you could just get yourself back to Hogwarts and into the tournament, I’m sure we can work this out to everyone’s satisfaction.” ----- o/~ Vol-de-mort evil as a ba-by! ~/o -----
“Okay…” Mr. Bagman coughed, blowing out soot. “The judges have decided to pass a new rule- no muggle whatchamacallits allowed!” He coughed again. “Your next task is to retrieve the thing most beloved to you from the lake, here. You’ll have one hour.”
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione cried, hugging him desperately. “Don’t worry, we can get through this!”
Harry hugged her. “I know we can, Hermione.” She swooned. “With your help, we’ll get Ron out of there in a jiffy!”
Somewhere, a record scratched to a halt.
“W-what?” Hermione stuttered.
“I know, I thought it was pretty sudden, too.” Harry waved. “They took him into the lake about ten minutes ago.”
“But I thought they were going to take the thing most beloved to you!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Yeah, me and Ron are tight like that,” Harry nodded.
“Wh- y- really?” Hermione squeaked slightly.
“Of course! We’ve been bunkmates for four years, Hermione, you can’t do that without getting close.”
“I see,” Hermione said faintly. “Well. Girls?”
“Demand photos!” Millie exclaimed.
“What?” Evie asked.
“Never mind,” Mary said firmly, swatting Millie over the head. “Can we get away with draining the lake?”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “Mary,” she said fervently, “You’re my hero. I’ll get the semtex!”
“Hooold on a minute,” Jane said, snagging Lucy’s shirt. “The Slytherin dorms are under the lake. Think of the poor mermaids!”
“Actually,” Harry said, “I’ve been toying around with floo powder lately, and I think I’ve had a breakthrough!” He pulled what looked like some sort of futuristic gun from his bag of holding.
“Hold on a minute, Mister Potter!” Percy interrupted. “We said no more muggle technojollies!”
“Oh, this is entirely magical!” Harry exclaimed. “See? I call it my Perpetual Oxidation-based Retro-Temporal Allocation Lariat device!”
“Now you’re just throwing words together,” Hermione muttered.
“It takes floo powder’s inherent spacial-temporal properties and divides them between ‘here’ and ‘there’! Watch!” He aimed at the ground, and fired. There was a momentary hum and the odd smell of ozone you get around lightning, and then a circle of gold fire flared up.
“Congratulations,” Pansy said dryly. “Ya made fire.”
“That’s the here!” Harry said brightly. “Now here’s the there!” He fired again, and a circle of blue fire sprang up beside the gold. “See?”
“Hm…” Pansy said, peering in the blue circle. “So if I stick my hand here-
” Her arm poked out of the gold circle. “Haha, check that out! I’m flipping myself off! …you bastard!”
Pansy snarled and dove at the gold circle, popping out of the blue one and falling back in to pop out of the gold.
“Note how each side maintains its environmental attributes, such as gravity, while effectively preserving the entering velocity,” Harry commented as Pansy popped in and out of each circle. “I think the differing colors come from splitting the normally green fire into two different elements.”
“That makes sense,” Mr. Bagman nodded.
“No it doesn’t!” Hermione snapped, “Photo-chromatic hue is based on-”
“Oh! It’s mass-belief based magic!” Libby exclaimed.
“Don’t you see, Hermione?” Libby asked, “Everybody knows
that blue and yellow make green, and so it does!”
“But… but… but…”
“That’s right, Granger, how do you like it like from the other side!” Draco shouted from the stands.
Hermione’s eyes snapped to Libby. “Does everybody know
that anvils fall on painted targets?”
Libby shrugged. “Worth a try.”
Harry ignored the high-pitched whistling sound and the yelp of pain behind him to concentrate on his aim with the device. “Right about…” he fired. Pansy shrieked as she fell out of the new fire-circle and into the lake. “Potter!
“Sorry, Pansy!” Harry shouted. He aimed again. “A little to the left, and…” Pansy shrieked again as a waterfall erupted from the fire circle above her. She began swimming away only to have Ron’s unconscious body knock her underwater. “Sorry again!” Harry cried, before diving into the lake to grab Ron. ----- o/~ Vol-de-mort hangin’ at the grave-yard! ~/o -----
“You’re, you’re sure,” Voldemort asked. “Not even for the prize money? I hear it’s a thousand galleonnnns…” He paused. “How about a Ferrari? I got one in red while I was in Italy, but it just doesn’t match my motif. Y’know, black. Everywhere.” Voldemort sighed. “I should have murdered my designer. But I hear he’s dead. Have you heard anything about a guy named Stubby Boardman?”-----A!Gent!Ennnnnnnn!-----
“You’ve got to be joking!” Harry protested. “We can’t do this!”
“Why?” Mr. Crouch asked bitingly. “Too much now that we’ve banned anything muggle or un-invented?”
“Just a simple maze with deadly creatures? That’s not even fair!” Harry turned to Krum. “Back me up here, Victor, you’d waltz right through this, right?”
“I vould order mine sorcerernauts into ze maze un-til I could valk from kopf to kopz to ze center and claim zei price as mine by RIGHT OF CONQUEST!”
“See?” Harry asked pleadingly. “With just sorcerernauts! Fleur?”
“Ze maze is made of plants, dar-ling,” Fleur purred, holding out a hand. It burst into flame. “Plants.
“And I shouldn’t need to remind you,” Harry said, “Hermione’s fr-muggle slaves are Forest Venture
“Axes to the ready, girls!” Hermione cried.
“Minions are banned! Powers are banned! Axes are banned!” Mr. Crouch shrilled. “The deadly labyrinth is traditional! It is a test of cunning and courage and persistence and I will not have you ruining this last part of the tournament!”
“Can’t we at least make a little more… something?” Harry asked. “Maybe make it out of carnivorous plants or- oh, hey, Neville! Sweet ride!”
“Thanks,” Neville said, stepping out of his Ferrari in a crisp Armani robe. “Came with the job.”
“Nice! Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any plants so dangerous you shudder at their very existence, would you?”
“Made a few last week, why?” -----Vol-de-morrrrt!-----
Voldemort whirled at the sound of a portkey. “AHA! I have you now, Neville the- Harry Potter?
“Can’t talk now, strange glowing-eyed baby!” Harry cried, slashing wildly with his laser-wand. “Got to kill the mother plant and stop these broccoli men from taking over the planet!”
“Broccoli men?” Voldemort asking, blinking.
“Why’d they have to be made of broccoli?!” Harry cried.
“I told you, not my fault!” Neville shouted, having his tiger vines eat anything in reach. “Grandma got the packet from Beyond Corp! My plants are proper abominations!”
” Harry winced as one of Neville’s plants finally ate through the broccoli men and managed to slice his arm.
“Huh.” Voldemort tasted the blood that had splashed against his cauldron. “Tastes like an enemy. Okay, lemme see, bone of a father, blood of an enemy, flesh of a servant… voila. Right, now, take 10 mL of blood… ten emels? How much is that in teaspoons?”
“Harry Potter!” Victor cried from the air, “Your friend iz brilliant! Using broccoli for minions!”
“I keep telling you, they’re not mine!
“Have a little pride in your work, darling,” Fleur said, burning a circle around her. “Has anyone seen ze prize?”
“Okay, now, 1 kg of finely broken bone. Finally broken? What, do they mean chopped or ground? Or do I have to like, splinter the stuff?”
“I would never design something like these!
They’re hackneyed mindless, soulless drones!
“Ouch! Dammit, I hate bone splinters!”
“Look, there’s the mother plant!”
“Good job, Cedric!” Harry shouted, ducking a venomous tentacle, “I know we could count on you to find it!”
“Gently fold the bone meal into the flesh. Remember to make sure the flesh has been properly… what’s that word? Desi… Mesi… Masti… curse these ancient family recipes and their terrible handwriting!”
“Oh! Thank you, Harry.”
“No problem.” Harry landed next to Hermione on a massive vine rising into the air. “Cedric’s found the mother plant. Are the girls done?”
“Hey, does anybody have a brush? Apparently I’m supposed to baste the mixture in the tears of children. I got an onion for that, so no problems, but I forgot to bring a brush!”
“Salted the ground and planted the charges!” Hermione said, saluting.
“Eh, it’s probably just for flavor anyway. Okay! Cauldron brought to a boil- hoo, boy, that’s gonna be hot! Are they sure it’s not supposed to cool down a bit? No? Okay, wait until it all turns a nice mellow chartreuse...”
“All right, people, this is the big one! Victor, have your sorcerernauts swarm the base! Fleur, keep those broccoli men off them, burn anything that sprouts! Cedric, keep your eye on that plant!”
“Okay, I’m diving in! Are you all looking? It’s gonna be evilly bad!”
“Venture Girls, ready your charges! Everybody got their masks?”
“Ready? I’m going ii-in!”
“On my mark!”
“Ooooone… twoooo… thr-”
The ground shook as the charges went off, forcibly atomizing thirteen tons of magical pesticide. The enormous daisy towered above the sky shrieked
and groaned, its tendrils thrashing the earth, causing small earthquakes and smashing thousands of broccoli men. With a keening death-cry that vibrated in the very soul, the plant collapsed to ground and died.
“…guys? You all saw that, right? How I rose out of the cauldron in my new body? It was pretty terrifying, right? I know I heard someone
shriek. Okay, I’m getting out, now… can someone get me a mirror?”
“What happened to my nose?
CURSE YOU, NEVILLE THE NEW GUY! CURSE YOUUUU!”