This work is a parody of J.K Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and it is not endorsed by either J.K. Rowling or her publishers. As a parody, this work is protected under the Fair Use Doctrine.
The characterizations in this work deviate significantly from the original, and this does not imply these characterizations exist in the original work. The author received no financial compensation or endorsements for the production of this work.
All characters in this story are fictional. This story depicts sexual acts between consenting minor males. This story is meant for entertainment purposes only and in no way reflects reality. Please be aware of local laws or ordinances that may prohibit the reading of such material.
Comments regarding the story may be sent to dricshae(at)gmail(dot)com
Please support Nifty with donations if able. DONATE HERE
When classes resumed, all the students seemed a bit glum. They would face uninterrupted sessions until the winter holidays commenced, notably the Celebration of the Solstice and Yuletide, Boxing Day, and the observed muggle New Year. They would be forced to wait seven weeks, and to the teenagers its seemed a small eternity. Even the students from Boobbeatons and Spurmstung appeared to acknowledge the drudgery of it all.
Following the Halloween Mixer, Harry noticed a change in his usual unusual life. Attention to the Bi-wizard Tournament meant his doings got reported in the wizarding daily newspapers gossip columns. Someone told about the night he spent sleeping outside with Răzvan. As a result, his partners who would seek out sexual dalliances with him disappeared for fear of becoming feed for the grist mill. Răzvan got put on a short leash by Krackhead, sometimes literally, and thus could not resume the friendly relations Harry hoped would develop. Even the ghosts who sometimes liked to watch him masturbate avoided him. Thus, day by day and week by week Harry grew increasingly frustrated.
"It's not fair!" He bemoaned to Hermione and Ron during a rather dull lecture by Professor Binns.
The day's lesson centered on the upcoming observance of The Peaking of Zebedee. It concerned day when the oldest known virgin in the wizarding world accidentally lost his virginity at the age of one hundred and nine in 1503. No one knew the precise day of the week when the act happened since it also killed him shortly thereafter. Thus, the final Sunday of November became the traditional day it got celebrated for its oddity even by wizarding standards.
"Harry, no one wants to end up in Skeeter's column, so can you blame them?" Ron retorted.
"Including you?" Harry fired back.
Ron's face turned crimson and he looked away.
"What about the Slytherins?" Hermione suggested.
Both Harry and Ron let out with a bark of laughter. They got a short, stern talking to by Professor Binns that one should not laugh at the demise of a fellow wizard regardless of how absurd or bizarre the circumstances. They acted properly abashed for the benefit of the ethereal instructor, although they got several thumbs up signs from fellow students.
"Right, so not the Slytherins," Hermione grumbled.
People still talked about the incredible beating Hermione and two of her sister witches delivered to Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle for snagging Harry during the Halloween dance. Moreover, they cursed the three boys with a very localized, very specific, and very difficult to remove petrificus spell. The three teenage males endured a permanent erection for over a week until Madam Pomfrey figured out a way to reverse the curse. Word circulated throughout the school that no amount of masturbation could relieve the boys of their protrusion. It only served to enhance Hermione's reputation for viciousness. Professor Snape even indirectly complimented her on the spell since everyone feared naming the culprits.
"'Sides, it's like having sex with my thumb... at best," Harry grumbled, although he did use his thumb on numerous occasion to stimulate his rectum. "And how come I don't hear you complaining about blue bullocks, Ron, since you broke up Colin?"
"What? Didn't he tell you about him and Hopkins?" Hermione rhetorically asked, and received a nasty look from Ron.
Ron then explained he and Wayne Hopkins sometimes met up to console one another. Apparently Hopkins and Eddie Carmichael ended a relationship of nearly two years within hours of Ron and Colin's dissolution. It seemed Carmichael favored Colin Creevey and went after the younger member of Gryffindor the very next day. Thus, Ron and Wayne shared more than one reason to be miserable together, and used it as an excuse to root one another whenever possible.
"Hope Carmichael's as disappointed with the little bugger as I was," Ron grumbled and glowered.
"Yeah, well, at least you've got someone to help you feel bad for yourself," Harry morosely rejoined. "It's just been me solo on the broomstick since then!"
Harry caught Hermione and Ron giving one another a knowing glance, and he scowled at them because he thought he detected pity in their expression. Harry, due to the manner of his parents death and his upbringing, hated it when he thought people pitied him his past. Most of the students in the school knew to avoid such tactics.
"Come off it, mate," Ron grumbled at him. "We've all been through a dry spell every once in a while."
"If this is a dry spell, then I should be dead of thirst. It's been three weeks!" Harry snapped at his friend.
Harry and Ron, and this time Hermione, received another lecture from Professor Binns for disrupting. He deducted five points each from Gryffindor House, and his schoolmates began casting dark glares at them. The three friends learned their lesson for the day and ceased their discussion.
Harry lost track of the lecture and the traditions carried on in honor of Zebedee who endured over a century of no sex. The young wizard thought he would lose his mind if faced with the same predicament. Since the first time he discovered the magic of his penis years before while locked in the cupboard under the stairs, he found a steady stream of sex kept him from crumbling under the weight his famous name brought. During his first year at Hogwarts it appeared as if everyone wanted to sleep with him, including a few females who he declined. He granted the demanded slowed with each succeeding year if one discounted the curiosity and interest of the new students. Harry, however, preferred partners who knew what to do and what they wanted in return. It did not take long to learn first years lacked both endurance and experience, and it often lead him to wonder if he also performed in the same fashion. Harry suspected he did, but the fact simply got forgotten or distorted over time.
The six days before The Peaking of Zebedee began to wear on Harry. His temper grew short. He spent an inordinate amount of time either locked in a bathroom stall or under his covers. The few times Harry approached various classmates to see if they might be interested, he got both brutally and gracefully turned down. Each person said the same thing: they did not want to read about themselves in the gossip columns. Frustrated and feeling more than alone, Harry went back to sulking under his covers while doing homework. He refused to sit in the common room or library where people would cast pitiful glances at him.
"Harry?" Neville's voice slipped through the fabric.
"Leave me be," Harry rumbled in response.
He felt his bed jostle. It surprised him his roommate would be so forward. He pulled the covers from around his head. Neville gave him a long, sideways look.
"What?" Harry snapped when the silence lingered too long.
"You know, this is part of the reason why I've never been with anyone," Neville rejoined, and the answer stunned Harry. "Can't miss what you never had."
Dressed in the familiar Hogwarts uniform and Gryffindor colors, Neville would not stand out in a crowd. However, Harry saw something in the expression of his friend that did not reflect pity, but rather a subdued curiosity. He slowly started to nod.
"You wouldn't believe how much I miss... even just the little things like a kiss or... or... laying next to a guy. Now none of them will come near me. It's making me crazy, Neville!" He exclaimed.
"The lack of sex or the being avoided part?" Neville asked in a measured fashion.
Harry felt his mouth fall open. The quiet teenager framed the issue in a different light. It rocked Harry on his proverbial heels.
"Maybe... both," he responded following ten seconds of trying to think it over.
Neville kicked off his shoes and climbed further onto the bed near one of the posts. Then he did the unexpected. He continued moving forward and nudged Harry to the side. When enough space got opened, Neville sat down next to him and rested against the headboard.
"You know my Gran thinks I might be a breeder," he quietly said. "Most everyone here does..."
"I don't. I know you're not," Harry instantly countered.
"Well, you're about the only one, Harry, and you can't imagine what it means to me. It makes me feel... I guess less strange. Less like the weirdo half of them think I am."
"You're not a weirdo. Marcus Flint is a weirdo... maybe even a psychopath. You ever watch him in a match?"
Neville bumped Harry's shoulder with his own and said: "It's stuff like that that you do for me that means everything. It's not huge, but it's really important."
"What? Just being nice?" Harry asked, confused.
Neville nodded his head. Harry turned his head a little and stared at his friend's profile. Once again he caught a glimpse of deep sadness. He knew about what happened to Neville's parents when Professor Dumbledore accidentally let the information slip during a drunken admonishment of Harry regarding how he got his name in the magic loo. Harry tried to explain he did not do it, but Dumbledore did not believe him and asked Harry if he wanted to end up like the Longbottoms: tortured into insanity with sexual ambiguity by one of Holdequart's followers. Since that day, he looked at Neville in a different light. It explained why he got raised by his vacuum-riding grandmother.
"It doesn't hurt to be nice to people. Makes life a little more pleasant to be honest. You're a decent bloke, Neville. Have some faith in yourself," Harry stated after the myriad of thoughts rampaged through his head.
"I used to envy you, you know, but after the last few years and what you told me over by the herbology gardens, not any more. I started to see how hard it must be for you. Then all this champion stuff. It kind of surprised when you didn't go round the bend after that challenge," Neville remarked.
"You saved me there. And I didn't forget what I still owe you for pointing me to the books."
"You don't owe me anything."
"Says you! You're the only one who gave me any useful advice," Harry rounded on his friend. "Did I tell what the next challenge is?"
Neville shook his head.
"Well, the lead up to next challenge," he amended. "There something written on that butt-plug I pulled from the dragon... or maybe hidden inside. I don't know. All I know is I've got to get the message in order to get prepared for the next tournament test."
Both Harry and Neville turned their heads to gaze at the object sitting on Harry' nightstand. Harry invited anyone who wanted to investigate the over-sized butt-plug to see if they could solve the mystery. He never explained in detail to any other what he told Neville.
"Looks perfectly smooth," Neville quipped.
"I know. Right! I've tried half a dozen spells on it, and they just bounced off the surface," Harry said.
"Maybe... maybe you need to sit on it," his friend suggested.
"Fuck off! That'd kill me! It's as big as my head!"
Neville chuckled and grinned.
"It's not funny!" Harry rumbled and knocked his shoulder against Neville's. "I've got to present my answer to the tournament committee the day after classes resume from the holidays."
"Well, that still gives you five, no, six weeks. You've got time to figure it out. Why not talk to the other champions and see if they've figured it out?" Neville suggested.
Harry let his head hang down and shook it while he said: "I really need to talk to you first about this stuff, Neville. I was running around in mental circles and never thought to ask them."
"I can think calmly about it since I don't have to face whatever nightmare they've got planned for you next."
"If this gets me the answer, then I..." Harry started to say.
"Don't owe me anything," Neville interjected. "You've already done more than enough for me."
Harry felt his throat tighten from the deep gratitude he immediately felt for his friend.
"Tell you what," Neville said and glanced around. "Since we got the room to ourselves, how about a quick toss off. I could use it."
"Each other?" Harry expectantly asked.
"Um... maybe... maybe later. I, ah, well, I really sort of like watching you, Harry. I was sort of hoping I could see you more up close this time."
"You can see me up close whenever you want, Neville... and I could really use this to. At least you're not afraid to see my willy."
Neville chuckled, and he started to undo his pants at the same time as Neville. Harry raced to beat him. Soon both wiggled their bottoms so they could slide their pants down. Much to his delight, Neville actually moved closer to him. When their naked buttocks touched, Harry's pecker grew even firmer. Moreover, Harry liked studying Neville in closer proximity. He first noticed the fine shape of Neville's thighs. Beneath the light layer of small but dark hairs, they looked fairly well muscled and it puzzled Harry. However, his friend's stiff pole of meat demanded his attention. Harry licked his lips as he looked at the rigid shaft. It seemed even more beautiful just a centimeters away rather than from across the room. Harry seized his swollen organ and started pumping.
"Slow down, Harry. We probably got time, so let's take it easy. Gives me a chance to memorize what I see," the quarter-nude teenager said to him.
Harry nodded in agreement, and it took a strong force of will to slow his hand. He watched Neville's long fingers wrap gently around his very slightly curved erection. His hand began to slide up and down at a sluggish pace. Harry decided to match him stroke for stroke. At the same time his mind also focused on the firmness of and heat emanating from the ass cheek touching his. He needed to figure out how Neville, who never participated in any sports, manage to make himself so fit. It became a second consideration as he enjoy the first moments of anything near sex he experienced in weeks.
Harry sighed with relief, and Neville did the same as they leaned back and relaxed. They seemed to slip outside of time as they pleasured themselves and took pleasure in watching one another. It gave harry the stamina to carry on for another day.
"I do not know `ow to break ziss puzzle," Foul grumped at the three males sitting around the library table. She flipped her hair to one side, and struck Cedric Diggory in the face with it.
The Peaking of Zebedee celebration meal ended half an hour before. While not nearly as sumptuous as the main holiday feasts, it did include several dishes the students normally did not get to enjoy on a regular basis. The only drawback came in being forced to listen to both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Binns expound on the meaning of the celebration. Professor Binns droned on for almost an hour before the headmaster unceremoniously interrupted the short specter.
"Yes, thank you, Professor Binns. Very enlightening. The students are thrilled," the elderly living man said in a totally dismissive manner. "Now, children, what lesson can we really take from Zebedee? Was he a great wizard? Hell, no. He was awful. If they had OWLs back in his day, he'd've failed each and every one of them."
The students became bit more enlivened at hearing Professor Dumbledore take potshots at a historical figure.
"Truly a terrible figure of a wizard, but amazing in his ability to abstain from sex."
They all sat upright to pay attention.
"Why did Zebedee do it? Why did he spend his entire life avoiding intimate, physical contact with other people... besides people being the most awful, wretched things? Why, just look at yourselves. The lot of you dirty and disheveled. You ate like pigs, and some of you even grunted. I heard you. Should transform this entire bunch into swine right now and be done with it. We can make ham and sausages out of you over the winter."
The younger heads all ducked when the headmaster whipped out his wand and unsteadily waved it back and forth. While most probably felt certain he would not unleash a spell, or at least possessed faith the teaching staff would stop him in order to save their cushy jobs, Dumbledore could accidentally let loose with some errant magic. The Great Hall still bore scorch marks from past misfires from the headmaster.
"Truly, every day I look out the window in my office and see you scurrying about like rats or cockroaches, and I have to come up with a new reason each night not blow up the castle while you're tucked in your beds," he raged at the assembled since he apparently found his favorite theme. "And would your parents really miss anyone of you? Likely not, and this causes a terrible strain in my head. Right here. Just above my left eyebrow."
He pressed a gnarled old finger to his forehead and winced. While he stood pointing out the location of his perceived pain, Professor McGonagall stealthily came up behind the man dressed in a dingy gray gown and who started to wobble behind the lectern. The students in the front could hear her hissing into his ear.
"That about does it for this year's The Peaking of Zebedee remembrance. Now go on and get out of here. Be in your houses by eight chimes and lights out a ten," she said to the students.
They glanced at one another.
"Or would you rather hear the rest of the headmaster's speech?"
It looked like a muggle fire drill magically took place. The students all but fled from the hall. Professor McGonagall sounded as if she made a promise more than a threat. During the rush, Harry managed to corral Diktor and then Ass Cleft. From there, the three teenage males went in search of Foul DelaCunt and cornered her before she could escape the castle proper.
The Boobbeatons took refuge in the old refurbished Budd RB-1 Conestoga cargo plane they magically altered. It sat within the Snogwarts' stables. Not only could it comfortably house the Boobbeaton battalion of students, it also held prisoner the four Pegasus they maimed in order to get the behemoth of an aircraft to fly. The engines did not function, and the propellers only spun around due to air flow over the blades. Everyone thought it looked like a flying dildo, and it seemed appropriate for the purpose it served.
"I have never even used one of zese... things," Foul finished her complaint.
"Maybe only Hagrid ever used a plug this size," Ass Cleft tried to diplomatically state.
Harry snorted in amusement as he thought of Hagrid's gigantic ass.
"But they promised us a clue is somehow contained in or on it. Have any of you made any progress in figuring it out?"
Three heads shook from side to side in answer to Ass Cleft's question.
"It could help if we knew who made it," Diktor said in his thick Bulgarian accent.
From the start of their meeting, Harry and Diktor started playing footsies. As he spoke he slid his foot up the back of Harry's calf. Harry shuddered in want.
"I, ah... ah-h-h-h-h," Harry breathed and stuttered. "Maybe, ah... ah... could get Ron to, um... uh, ask his brother if... if... if... if he kn... knows."
"What is wrong with you?" Ass Cleft demanded.
"I think ziss one," and Foul indicated Diktor, "is sticking his toes up ze little boy's trou de cul... his -- `ow you say -- asshole."
"Guys, can you please knock it off for a little while?" Ass Cleft pleaded. "And sit up, Harry."
Harry slid down in his chair as Diktor's foot toyed with his crotch. He feared he might ejaculate in his pants, but that did not worry him. The jerk-off session with Neville helped reduce his most urgent needs, but those began to renew by the evening of that day. Harry desperately needed to have real sex with someone. Thus, he almost made his way to floor where he planned on dragging Diktor. Instead, he pushed himself upward while his frustrations grew.
"I like your idea of finding out if Charlie Weasley knows who produced the butt-plugs. He did survive the Horny-tail attack, didn't he?" Diggory said and forced them back on task.
"Yeah. He got little scorched, but they saw it coming. Most `em got away... most," Harry informed the group, and then grew solemn on the final word.
His competition all gave him a disdainful look for a few seconds. The library seemed incredibly silent in that moment. Since he missed the instructions on the challenge day, he also did not know to ignore the dragons in case they asked to be freed. However, Harry felt smugly satisfied in helping the beast. Few people ever got directly addressed by a dragon and lived to talk about it.
"How long for his answer? Hmm?" Diktor inquired.
"Depends on where Charlie is. We'll probably have to run the message through Mr. and Mrs. Weasley..."
"What about using an owl?" Cedric interjected.
"Think you can get one to fly into dragon territory?" Harry countered.
Ass Cleft made an oh with his pert lips. Harry considered jumping onto the table and ramming his painfully hard erection into the inviting orifice. He started to tremble as he thought about it.
"Okay, I see your point. I'll let you figure out how to contact him," Diggory said while looking askance at Harry.
"'Ow do we know zis boy will share his information with us?" Foul inquired as she flipped her hair yet again.
Diktor caught it in true skeeter fashion and gave it a rough yank. Foul let out with a sharp yell. Several people shushed her from different areas. Diktor and Foul glanced around to see the source: a number of students who hung out in the library waiting for the opportunity to shush a person. They did not know about the weird contest between a certain segment of the student body.
"Look, Foul, I didn't want to even be in this tournament," Harry said and did nothing to suppress his smirk at Diktor. "I just want to get through it alive. I don't care who wins, so I'll tell you everything I find out. I'll even post it on the pick-up pillar out in the courtyard!"
Ass Cleft grinned at Harry's declaration. A broken pillar served as a place where students posted notices of being available for sex. Harry tried it. No one answered his plea. However, the notion valuable tournament information would be plastered on the pillar clearly amused Diggory.
"We need zis knowledge as soon as possible. Zere is only five more weeks before we questioned on ze butt-plug, no?" Miss DelaCunt haughtily reminded them.
"Roughly," Harry said and winked at Diktor.
Diktor snickered and hunkered down in his heavy fur cloak. Harry suspected the young man might be tossing off underneath. He wanted to climb under the library table to find out.
"Try to find out by Yuletide Ball, Harry, would you?" Ass Cleft requested.
"Did you say you want to ball me?" Harry immediately pounced on a single word since he did not really pay attention.
"No, Harry," Cedric said through a laugh. "I asked if you can find out what you can from Charlie by the Yuletide Ball."
"Oh, that. Yeah. Sure. I'll try."
Being physically close to both Ass Cleft and Diktor left Harry with decreasing amounts of self-control. His mind ambled back to the afternoon following the first challenge when the two handsome young men personally saw to his well-being in the baths. The memory made Harry's testicles hurt with want.
"Well, anybody have anything else to add?" Ass Cleft queried and glanced around.
Diktor simply shook his head. Foul looked elsewhere. Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"Right. Guess that ends it. We'll talk again at the ball."
"Ball," Harry repeated the last word and let his head drop to the table. It made a loud thump that elicited several shushes.
Harry did not see the others depart as he wrestled with his near debilitating desire for sex. His mind riffled through numerous possible candidates, but most already rejected him. Some he rejected due to their Slytherin allegiance. It seemed he ran out of options and considered going to see Mr. Felch for some of the Floppy Cock Potion. While it would not relieve his sexual tensions, Harry knew it would make his dick hurt less. He almost decided on that course when a small face popped into his head.
"No," he said to himself. "Wouldn't be fair."
His cock pulsed in his pants.
"Shut up. I'm not listening to you."
Once more the round face with the square chin, the mousy hair, gray eyes, and over-eager expression floated through his mind. It taunted him. Harry knew he could get laid by that person, but it might come at a terrible price. He did not want to pay it. The heat of need in his groin started to boil. It told him to be honest with the boy right from the start: that it only amounted to sex and nothing else.
"He's so young," Harry berated the idea.
His brain reminded him he engaged in a number of flings and one-night stands with sixth years during his first year. Oliver Wood, a very apt name if Harry ever heard one, treated him like a personal pincushion throughout the entire fappitch season. Many of the boys with whom he slept did so simply to touch his accidental fame, and his his scarred penis. Even though he knew he got used by a third of the company he kept, Harry enjoyed every moment of it. He knew from a young age during his days in the cupboard under the stairs while he discovered the range of delights his body could bring that he would completely and fully explore his desires, needs, and wants.
"Oh, all right," he sighed and glared at very noticeable lump in his pants. "You win."
Ten minutes later he heard himself speaks words the common room Harry never imagined would cross his lips: "Anyone seen Dennis Creevey around?"
An hour later he felt physically relieved, but emotionally compromised. He repeatedly told Dennis during their hyperactive and extraordinarily gymnastic sexual session the encounter meant nothing more than the sex. Dennis said he understood, but comments later in the hour told Harry Dennis started to read too much into his motives. Before he left Dennis' room he sat the boy down and carefully, expressly, and methodically explained his position one last time. He made Dennis repeat many of the statements. He asked at every pause of Dennis truly understood what Harry meant. Dennis said he did.
"He didn't understand," he mumbled as he walked to the bathing facility to try and wash the shame from his body. "And where the hell did he learn to rut like that?"
The tryst with Dennis Creevey served as the start of the holiday season for Harry, but it carried ominous overtones. He and Ron worked together to craft a message to the Weasley parents they should forward to Charlie. Ron knew from a letter his sister Giney received, he never got letters because Ron refused to write in return, that Charlie got stationed somewhere in Africa to study the rare Egyptian Fromunderwyrm. The note the two friends crafted spelled out exactly what the Weasley parents should ask when they next spoke to their son, Charlie. They decided to trust Headwig with the message instead of Errol.
"How long before they answer, do you think?" Harry asked as they watched Headwig take wing in the cold morning air.
"You're guess is good as mine, mate, but we did ask them to find out at least a week before Yuletide," Ron replied.
"That's less than four weeks, Ron. The Yule Dance is on the twenty-first."
"Well, for your sake I hope Headwig can fly fast."
It seemed the beautiful wings of Headwig carried tremendous weight.
Since the start of November Harry found it impossible to entice Ron into any sexual activity. It formed part of the reason he broke down and took a turn with Dennis. Sometimes Ron disappeared for entire afternoons following classes. He wondered what his best friend did during those times, but found spying on his friend distasteful. By the start of December, two days after they sent Headwig on her message mission to The Bunghole, curiosity got the better of him. Harry donned his invisibility cloak and went quietly scuttling through the castle the next time Ron pulled his disappearing trick the following Friday after classes ended.
It surprised him when he saw Ron slip into the prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor and slide the occupied indicator into place. It locked the door and made it impervious to the alohamora spell. Once the door got sealed, Harry slid invisibly from his hiding spot behind the statue of Boris the Buggerer and went to it. He pressed his ear to the keyhole. The sound of kissing, big sloppy kissing, invaded his hearing first. Although he and Ron never kissed, he saw his best mate slobber all over Colin Creevey on too many occasion to not know the sound of Ron's kiss. He heard the mumble of voices, but no distinct words. Harry paused and waited and waited while listening in.
"Vie ste kato yadosana mechka v malka koshara," a familiar voice grunted and heaved.
"What?" Ron asked in his usual befuddled manner.
"You are like angry bear in a small den," Diktor said and laughed. "Is compliment, Weasley."
"Oh," Ron replied and sounded please. "Like this?"
Only Ron's heavy testes could make the slapping sound Harry heard next.
"Dah! Dah!" Diktor said in unison to the other noise.
Harry did not know if he should feel bad, confused, happy, or left out. Mostly he felt left out. The fact Ron and Diktor became a clandestine couple further mixed his feelings. It suddenly made sense why Harry never once heard Ron complain of going without sex. Like Harry, Ron also possessed a very healthy and demonstrably strong sexual appetite. Diktor made some feral noise for a long while. Harry wondered just how emotionally attached they became since Halloween and the dissolution of Ron and Colin's relationship.
"What do you say about invading Devon, England, for a while?" Ron cheesily inquired after a while.
"Podgotvete se za voĭnika," Diktor responded and sounded bit giddy.
"What? I don't know Bulgarian," the youngest Weasley male pleaded.
"I am soldier getting ready to march."
"Oh! Better be a full force invasion, then!"
Ron and Diktor started to laugh.
Harry backed away from the door. It seemed Ron finally found someone who could meet his needs, and it came in the form of a young professional fappitch player Ron worshiped for years. Even from across the hall Harry could hear Ron's initial groan of intense delight. Harry broke into a trot to avoid hearing more. Under his invisibility cloak he felt more alone than ever as he wended his way back to the Gryffindor tower. He and Ron argued in the past, sometimes fought, but they always managed to work out whatever difficulties faced them. Without needing to be told Harry knew no space existed for him between Ron and Diktor.
The stone walls of Snogwarts offered no comfort to the young wizard.
Try as he might as the days wore on, Harry could not stop the discovery of his best friend's private affair from affecting him. He became increasing glum. It did not go unnoticed.
"Look, Harry, they'll get an answer to us in time," Ron said during potions class the following week when Harry's behavior became more pronounced.
"Yeah, I guess they will," Harry replied in a flat tone.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Hermione whispered a line no one would dare enact, "but I thought you wanted out of the tournament. Here's your chance to avoid it altogether."
Harry looked around. Professor Snape's lay on his desk at the front of the room, the black soiled cloak partially draped over his head, his mouth open, and snores tearing through the air around him. The man lapsed into a seeming coma within seconds after delivering the day's assignment. The air reeked like a cleaning solvent in his immediate vicinity. Thus, it appeared safe to carry on a quiet conversation.
"But I'll still get the punishment for failing the challenge, and it doesn't get me out of the third one," he explained again.
Hermione frowned. She did not like it when her suggestions missed the mark. It offended her intelligence and sensibilities. She worked on her potion by preparing ingredients as the cauldron water heated.
"What about using the Flue Network from Hagrid's hut?" She proffered.
"He's not connected. Only the headmaster's flue is part of it. Dumbledore's afraid students will use the network to try and escape school. Least that's what my mum told me," Ron answered.
Hermione's face scrunched into a frightful scowl. He hair started waving in it's own; thus providing evidence she intended to make a magical strike. Harry and Ron scuttled around to the other side of the workbench. They watched her with carefully schooled neutral expressions.
"Well, then just wait for the bleeding answer from The Bunghole," she growled at them.
"That's what I've been telling him all along," Ron half-shouted at her.
"Weasley!" Snape's voice roared from the front of the room.
By pure instinct Ron instantly dropped to his knees. A small cauldron sailed over is head and struck Hermione square in the face. She screamed as blood flew in all directions from her nose while she cartwheeled off her chair. As a single unit the classroom turned and stared at the potion's master. He sat weaving on his stool, his eyes clearly unfocused, and drool running down his chin.
"Hundred points to Gryffindor for... you know why. Just... just... get her to the hospital wing," Professor Snape said, slurring several words, and then his head dropped heavily back to the table.
Harry and Ron did not waste time. While Ron collected the belongings of all of them. Harry raced to Hermione's aid. One foot slipped in a patch of blood, and he fell to the floor. Unfortunately, he neatly elbowed his second best friend in the sternum while trying to catch himself. Hermione let out a strangled cry. As he repeatedly apologize to her, Harry assisted her to her feet. With Ron stationed on the other side, they helped her stumble out of the classroom. In time-honored and well-rehearsed ritual, the trio aimed straight for the first stairwell. The set Hermione down while Harry pulled out his wooden wand.
With it aimed steadily at Hermione's bloody and already swollen nose, he incanted: "Emaculo perfectus."
Three seconds later Hermione looked no different than she did ten minutes before.
"Thanks, Harry," she warmly said as she punched him in the stomach. "Next time watch where your walking."
"Right," Harry wheezed and blinked back tears.
The female of the trio stood and took her bookbag from Ron. She glanced at the two of them for a few seconds. She shook her head.
"What?" Ron inquired in his unique and somewhat dull Ron manner.
"He's pathetic, and you're an idiot if you can't figure out what's really going on," Hermione berated both of them at the same time. "I'm off to find Sabine for tender loving care."
"But I already fixed your nose and stomach," Harry stated the obvious.
"How about if I cram your face into my gash `til I'm satisfied?"
Harry dry-heaved at the bare idea of it.
"Thought so. See you back in the common room later tonight," she said and almost turned it into a song.
"Do you think we'll survive when she takes over the world?" Ron asked.
"For a little while at least," Harry speculated.
They glanced at each other and smirked.
"Want to go watch the elf fights down at Hagrid's? We might pull some galleons from the seventh years if you flirt with him," Ron suggested.
"Yeah. All right," Harry agreed since otherwise he would just hole up in the dorm room and read the Bi-Wizard Tournament history book.
The two started up the steps. The clack of their shoes echoed through the empty halls and stairwell. When they reached the main hall, they carefully scanned the area. It would not do to run into either a teacher or Peeves. The poltergeist would mercilessly pester them before going to tell an instructor they no longer sat in a class. Once it seemed safe, they raced through the foyer to the front door and slipped through with none the wiser. It took less than minute before they arrived at the switchback trail leading to Hagrid's hut.
"Harry, what'd she mean I haven't figured out what's going on?" Ron asked.
It made Harry wonder exactly how much Hermione did piece together. As the smartest witch in their class and probably the whole school, he would not put it past her to know everything. However and despite his feelings, Harry did not want to tarnish Ron's time with Diktor. Thus, he shrugged his shoulders and affected a confused air.
"Like I would know," he replied. "Why'd she call me pathetic?"
"Seen how you've been acting lately, mate? I've had cheerier times at some funerals what with you moping about the place. What's gotten into you, Harry?" Ron countered.
"Noting, and that's the problem right there."
"What about Dennis?"
"Piss off, Ron. You know I did that `cause I was totally desperate," Harry railed at his friend while they managed the downward slope.
"How was he, though? Anything like Colin?" Ron pried.
"Not really. I mean, yeah, sure, he fucks like a billiwig that got into Hagrid's coffee, but he can go forever. Plus, he knows his way around a dick. I was kind of surprised to tell you the truth."
"What the hell happened to Colin then?"
Harry shrugged again. They made their way to Hagrid's while discussing the differences between the Creevey brothers. It gnawed at Harry that he might need to visit Dennis a second time.