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.
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The morning of the Yuletide dance they went in search of and found Luna Lovegood. She sat in a corner with a Boobbeatons student in the great hall enjoying a light breakfast and looking at a book with pictures of the strangest creatures either Harry or Ron ever saw. Ron recited his rehearsed plea that included a promise of more than a simple payback. Luna, ever the gentle and giving person, agreed in her demure manner. In less than hour she proved herself the savior of the day.
The day passed in a blur for Harry once the Ron situation got sorted. He found and met with the other tournament champions, and they spent over an hour discussing the note Charlie Weasley sent and Harry shared. It became quite obvious they placed too high of hopes on the response. However, Ass Cleft reminded the group they now possessed at least one clue. They further agreed to share whatever discoveries they made over the next week. Foul again feared she would be left out. Harry recited Neville's words from the night before. She looked both angry and stung by what he said. He then moved on to preparations for the dance.
Nerves began to jingle as the sun started to pass behind the mountains surrounding Snogwarts. When the tower bell rang seven times, Harry and his roommates gathered in their room to get dressed. It gave them an hour before the official start of the dance. Each polished shoes, used cleaning spells on pants and shirts, removed lint, and then finally donned their finery. They combed hair, those who could, brushed teeth, and sprinkled cologne. The terror on Ron's face got replaced with relief when he looked at himself in the standing mirror. While obviously not new robes, Luna disposed of the offending fringe, removed excess material from the body and sleeves so Ron appeared more sleek, and used the excess to lengthen it. In the end, Ron looked more than passable.
"Ready, Neville?" Harry asked when his best friend got suited.
Neville, resplendent in trim robes of satin with an interesting obsidian sheen and fashioned in a double-pleated breast, nodded. It suited his surprisingly long frame. He smiled at Harry. Harry grinned in return.
"Your hair really is it's own master, isn't it?" Neville commented.
"Never been able to do a thing with it. I made a deal with it years ago: my hair promises not to look too bad, and I won't shave it down to the scalp. It agreed."
"It lied to you."
"Yeah, well, I'd look like a toff if I cut it to nothing, so I guess it wins," Harry said through a smirk.
Dean and Séamus left first to go find their dates. Ron stayed back with Harry and Neville since they would be joining the other champions. Ron complimented both of them on their appearance, and Harry complimented Ron for noticing. Ron complimented Harry for thanking him. Harry complimented Ron for being so civil. Neville made a gagging noise. All three then laughed and departed the room.
From the moment they stood atop the main stairs leading to the grand foyer and the great hall, Snogwarts took on a mystical quality. Over the past twenty-four hours the castle got transformed. Whoever convinced the headmaster to go all out on the decorations deserved a medal in Harry's estimation. Frosted evergreen garlands wrapped the banisters and stiles of the stairs. Small fairies hid within the needles and their body lights twinkled clean and white. Magical icicles hung down from the ceiling, and magical snow fell and terminated above the heads of the attendees. Decorated evergreen trees got docked in every corner. More garland festooned the walls like gleaming bunting, and the crests got tied off with mistletoe. Potted holly plants created small banks along the walls, and the dark green leaves and red berries added a natural color. More fairies sparkled within those.
"This is amazing," Harry gasped as he took in the entire sight.
Ron and Neville wordlessly nodded their heads as they looked around.
The trio of young men began their descent. All the while their eyes and heads swiveled in all directions to see everything. Harry barely recognized the place as Snogwarts. Even the sentinel statues got the holiday treatment. Their shields depicted various winter and Yule images that moved and replayed. At the bottom of the stairs, house elves dressed like druids of old directed them where to go. The scrawny, short humanoids apparently got told in advance where to send the champions and their dates. Thus, Harry, Neville, and Ron stayed together as they moved through the growing throng of student dressed in the best clothes.
"Ron, Harry," Diktor said, rolling his Rs in his Bulgarian manner when they entered the private room set aside for the champions.
Ron broke away and went and stood next to Diktor. Diktor slyly took his hand. Then the man bowed to Harry and Neville.
"Diktor Kum, I'd like to introduce you to my date, Neville Longbottom," Harry said in a fully formal fashion.
"I greet you warmly, Neville Longbottom," Diktor said and bowed again.
"Nice, ah, to finally meet you," Neville rejoined, clearly starstruck for a moment.
"You look very nice, Neville," Cedric Diggory said as he came up behind them. "Harry got lucky."
Both Harry and Neville blushed.
Ass Cleft look sumptuous in his robes of such deep purple as to be black. The light played on the fabric like magic. Harry suspected magic got involved. Between Diktor's formal red, military-style of yore suit with an off-the-shoulder fur-collared dark gray cloak, Harry felt distinctively under-dressed in simple black robes. Moreover, Lee Jordan, Diggory's date for the dance, wore a unique African-style robe that complimented Ass Cleft's attire. Finally, Foul DelaCunt lounged to one side in a ridiculously expensive looking pale gold dress anointed with dozens of pearls. With her stood a Ravenclaw student named Elora who wore a rich, dark green gown. Aside from her first name, Harry knew very little about the young woman. She seemed as guarded as the Boobbeatons champion.
At the sound of eight bells, they heard the mass of students and faculty moving into the great hall. The antechamber containing the champions grew silent as they awaited their call. Harry glanced around at his schoolmates and guests. Each seemed as nervous as the next, and that made him feel better in an odd way. They also appeared to be a very handsome group, and that made him feel like the odd man out. Neville, in his dignified and quiet manner, even seemed to outshine him. Harry wondered anew about who rigged the magical loo to spit out his name. More importantly, he wanted to know why.
The door creaked open, a small hooded head popped in and said in a scratchy voice: "You're on."
"Wouldn't it be more appropriate to say our presence is now required?" Ass Cleft asked, showing again his brand of leadership.
"Wouldn't it be better if I kicked you in the ass and tossed your bony butt out into the middle of the hall?"
House elves could be cranky, Harry recalled.
The champions and their dates lined up in a very specific order. As the hosts, Harry and Ass Cleft would follow behind Diktor and Ron, and they would follow Foul and Elora. Harry and Neville came dead last behind Diggory and Lee. The house elf roughly shoved the door fully open, swore at them for being lazy and slow, and then stomped away. His naked little feet made a wet slapping sound on the floor stones. The students glanced at one another, each shrugged, and they filed out of the room.
Once they entered the great hall as their names got called, Harry went into a mental time warp. He remembered dancing with Neville who, true to his word, could dance and gamely led them through the first round. Harry recalled the odd septet named Corpus Delicti that could switch between instrumental occasional music and high-voltage rock-and-roll with frightening ease. Worries about sitting alone got dismissed when he found himself sitting with Neville at a table reserved for the champions. They also got to eat first. For the first time, Harry found a reason not regret getting forcibly dragged into the tournament against his will. Time and again he and Neville hit the dance floor. As the night wore on, Harry found he wanted to remain close to his date. Nobody said a word about the two Gryffindors from the same year attending the dance together. All in all, Harry enjoyed the dance beyond his wildest expectations.
Harry and Neville stayed at the dance until the faculty shut it down at two o'clock in the morning. The band played ferociously all evening. By the end of the celebration, both young men threw off their ties, un-tucked their shirts, slid out of their dress robes, and spent most of the night on the dance floor. Harry felt wonderfully exhausted as he and Neville exited the great hall and aimed for the stairs. Students walked slowly around while the school staff tried to herd them to their respective houses. Along the way, Harry slid his arm through Neville's and held it tight.
"So you didn't mind being stuck with a tournament git all night?" He playfully asked his date.
"I... Harry, I can't believe how much fun I had. This was... I don't know how to describe it," Neville said in an awed hush. "Thanks for going with me, Harry."
"Blimey, Neville, thanks for asking me. I thought this whole night was going to be a carriage wreck three days ago. You saved the day, and I owe you so much..."
"You don't owe a thing, Harry. I told you that. This... it's like a dream to me. It's been the best day I ever spent here," the taller of the teenagers softly stated.
Harry hugged the arm closer to him, and he felt Neville do the same. Against all likelihood, he suspected the two of them enjoyed the dance the most out of all the champions. Foul and her date departed well before midnight. Diktor and Ron vanished at the stroke of twelve. Ass Cleft and Lee took their leave an hour before the dance officially ended. Harry and Neville got shoved out of the great hall with the rest of the die-hard revelers.
The dance couple wended their way to the Gryffindor tower. Inside the common room they found housemates in various states of wakefulness. They continued their trek up the room. When they got inside, they found Séamus sound sleep, his sleeping potion on his nightstand. Dean and Ron's beds remained empty, and Harry guessed they would remain that way all night. He watched as Neville slung his robe over the chair beside his bed and wiggled out of his shoes. He rolled over onto his mattress with a grateful sigh.
"Told you it would be a great night," he said through a yawn.
"I'll never doubt you again, Neville. You were absolutely spot on," Harry said as he folded his dress robes and put it back in the box.
He took off shoes, and aching feet from dancing breathed in relief. After taking off his shirt that wore sweat stains like battle signs, Harry looked over at Neville. His date for the night already closed his eyes and a very, very gentle snore escaped him. The gratitude Harry felt toward Neville overwhelmed him. He walked over to the where the young man slept. On impulse, he carefully climbed onto the bed next to his friend, who he now considered dear, and lay down. Harry wrapped an arm around Neville's midsection. In his sleep, Neville clutched it with his own. He then cautiously leaned his head forward and placed a soft kiss on the back of Neville's still damp neck.
"I think I'm yours if you want me," he whispered to the sleeping form.
Harry then laid his head down and smiled. His eyes closed. The world disappeared as he dreamed of the dance, and he felt happy throughout every fiber of his being.
"Don't you two look chummy!" Ron's voice blasted through the room. "It's after nine and time to get up. We got presents to open!"
Harry sat up. Neville sat up next to him. They looked at each other. They smiled.
"Never saw you sleep in clothes before, Harry," Neville said and yawned.
"And it looks like you forgot where your pajamas are," he replied. Then Harry grew more serious and said: "Neville, it was a perfect night from start to end."
"Yeah, it was," the young man agreed in a whisper. "How about a quick change and some tea?"
"Sounds great."
They could hear Ron racing through the tower rousing people who still slept. Several yelled at him, and those who yelled got yelled at in return. Harry noticed Séamus' empty bed that he did not bother to make. Harry raced through changing his clothes, as did Neville, and he got a rare glimpse at a fully unclothed Neville. It made Harry's heart pound in his chest. Feelings, some very confused, rampaged through him. He looked at his friend in a completely new light. The last forty-eight hours seemed transformative. Harry knew it would take him days to pick through everything he thought in that one second.
"Come on, Harry, before it gets cold!" Neville chastised him after beating him in getting changed.
Harry slipped on the pants he wore the day before and grabbed a clean Weasley jumper. He pulled it over his head while jamming his feet into house slippers. He trotted across the room and followed Neville out and into the scrum that developed in the stairwell.
The final Yule morning commenced. It became a profound memory in Harry as the Gryffindors treated one another with more generosity and kindness than normal. Some exchanged presents, and they all found something from home under the tree the house elves erected on the first Yule day and slowly decorated for eleven more until it became a garish nightmare of bulbs, garland, lamps, and tinsel. Regardless of actual age, they all became eight-year olds as they gleefully tore away paper, peered into bags and boxes, and generally made a great and wonderful mess of the common room. Morning fare awaited them on a table, and it automatically replenished as the students ate their fill. Never did Harry think a room filled with so many happy, laughing, and joyful people could feel so intimate and warm. It did nothing more than reinforce his sense Snogwarts truly became his home.
"I'm going to barf if I eat another jellied bean," Ron moaned from where he lay on the floor in the common room several hours later. "And I think I ate barf-flavored one to begin with."
"Is there anything better than making your tummy hurt on Chris... Yuletide morning?" Hermione added and gave away her muggle heritage.
"The jumper your mum made for me this year is hideous, Ron. Tell her I love it and it's my new favorite," Harry said.
Each year Mrs. Weasley knitted him a new jumper emblazoned with a large H for his first name. The woman displayed a knack for selecting colors nature never intended to go together. Ron's jumper all but glowed a neon orange with a giant pink R in the middle. It would frighten a mountain troll. Harry labored under field of robin's egg blue interrupted by a chartreuse capital H. When he pulled it from the wrapping, the jumper made his eyes water, and he immediately switched it out for the one he initially wore that morning. He felt assured Mrs. Weasley picked the colors to make certain no one stole the jumper. Thus far, Harry retained each one he received.
"You tell her since you'll actually write to her, and tell her mine might've violated an international treaty!" Ron groaned out the words.
Hermione and Neville broke into laughter, along with a couple of other Gryffindors who remained, while Harry shook his head.
"What'd you get from your aunt and uncle?" Hermione asked.
Harry earlier secretly opened the small box with a note attached. The note simply stated his name and a big D at the bottom. Inside the box he got a single pair of white socks and coupon book for a fast food restaurant he could not visit until summer (and he saw the coupons would be expired by then). It provided more evidence to what he told her friends several days before.
"I, ah, think it might be a real pair of new socks and coupons for Notlob Fish and Chips," he informed her.
"That's it?" Katie Bell exclaimed and sat up from under a pile of discard wrapping paper that effectively hid her.
Hermione shrieked at the sudden appearance and took a swing at Katie. Katie displayed her fappitch skills and dodged the blow. She stared at Harry with wide eyes.
"He's gotten worse, Katie," Ron stated.
"I have," Harry agreed.
"Much worse," Neville added.
"Ooh, remember what he got two years ago?" George Weasley said as his head pop over the edge of the large sofa.
Hermione screamed again and threw a shoe at him. Like Katie, George relied on his game-playing abilities and deftly caught the flying footwear. He looked at it.
"Where'd you get my trainer?" George asked.
"So what present could be worse," Katie returned to the main subject.
"You mean the newspaper caddie?" Hermione queried between pants.
"Exactly," Fred joined in, and he looked disappointed when Hermione only scowled at him. "From a thrift store, and he had to assemble it himself."
"You're lying," Katie huffed.
"On my honor," Harry stated and drew an ex over his heart. "Still not as bad as when they gave me a pair of my cousin's used trainers."
"Now you know why he loves our mum's jumpers. It shows she cares and thought about him," George opined.
"At least enough to know what letter his name begins with," Fred added.
Katie glanced around, and Neville did a little as well. She seemed positively repulsed by what she heard, yet Harry could see it confused her by the amount of amusement it brought him and the Weasleys. Harry studied the Weasley twins. Fred wore a canary yellow jumper with a mud-brown F in the center. George got the same, except with capital G. Harry shrugged and privately thought Mrs. Weasley favored him that year. The handmade jumper made Harry part of the clan.
"So where'd you get the other gifts then, Harry?" Katie inquired.
"Mostly from old friends of my mum and dad's. Once they knew I got to Snogwarts and was safe, things just started to arrive. Lord Holdequart can't really touch me here..." Harry said and started to explain.
Everyone in the room flinched at hearing the name.
"Except when he sneaked in through Quirrell's ass," Fred remarked.
"And that diary," Neville threw in what he knew.
"So who knows how he's going to get to you this year. Bet it's going to be really wicked," George said while rubbing his hands together in a sinister
"You people are crazy," Katie said through a nervous laugh and stood. "Between those jumpers, Harry's pathetic gifts, and making fun of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Fucked, you're just crazy.
George cocked his head to the side and said: "Better to make fun of it than sitting in a locked room being afraid all the time."
Those who stood by Harry from the beginning all nodded their heads in agreement. Harry counted it as one of the more precious gifts he received. Those types of presents always tended to arrive at the most unexpected times.
Harry waved farewell to Katie when she announced she needed to do something else with the day other than lying around the common room eating until she got sick. He stood as well and began to collect the mass of shredded wrapping paper in the common room. The others joined in. They uncovered a sleeping Dennis Creevey in the process. It did not take long before they created a giant ball of wadded paper. Fred and George asked if they could take possession of it. While it worried Harry concerning the purposes to which they could put it, he saw no reason to object. The Weasley twins scuttled up to their room snickering along the way.
"You know there's a good chance we're going to regret that," Hermione admonished them.
"Good chance? How about a certainty," Ron corrected her.
It led to a good laugh that woke up the sleeping Creevey brother.
The remarkable Yuletide celebration gave way to the demands of school and the tournament. Harry faced a mound of homework to complete within five days, and the dragon butt-plug haunted his dreams. One of the bright spots came in the daily request by Neville to join him for lunch, and Harry routinely accepted the offer. Sometimes they invited Luna to join them, although she declined half the time for rather obscure reasons. They often shared dinner with the normal cabal of Gryffindors. However, Harry did not fail to notice Neville preferred to sit next to him. He also began to prefer it.
On the Sunday before the start of the next term, a long week after the Yuletide dance, Harry sat in the common room with the dragon butt-plug and plagued anyone who got near him for advice on how best to crack the puzzle surrounding the strange device. It frustrated him when he received word none of the other champions figured it out as well. Their time grew short.
"George!" Harry yelled as George Weasley stepped through the portrait portal. His jumper gave away his identity.
"I've already told you: I haven't the foggiest, Harry," the older of the two twins grumbled.
"But your clever with these sorts of things," Harry begged. "How would you drive someone insane with a puzzle that should be easy to solve but isn't?"
"You already answered the question, you prat."
"But your brother said to think of the obvious thing about dragons and I'll find the answer there. What so obvious about dragons that you could hide it in this thing?"
Above all else Fred and George Weasley harbored unquenchable curiosity. That often led them to drafting their most nefarious schemes. It also made them highly intelligent even if they applied it in off-beat ways. Thus, Harry hoped to pique one of them with his badgering. George stopped walking and stared at the silver object while scratching his ginger-haired head.
"What kind of metal is that?" George asked.
"Um, I don't really know. Charlie didn't say," Harry answered.
"But it's got to be corrosion-resistant if it got wedged up a dragon's bum. They eat some caustic stuff to generate all those nasty, flammable fluids," the Weasley twin said, and it revealed his association to one who studied dragons.
"Okay, but how would that be part of a puzzle?"
"Well, it kept the puzzle whole, but... not sure how it's connected." George said and walked toward the chair where Harry sat. "Mind if I hold it?"
Harry held it out. George took it, began turning it over, and studied the surface.
"Interesting. Turn-key mechanism, eh?" George inquired after half a minute and tapped the bottom of the plug.
"Spotted it in one. It's what makes the spines retract," Harry told him.
"Show me."
Harry took hold of the plug around the base, fished his wand out of pocket, and pointed it a the x-shaped indentation.
"Gyrari dextra," he intoned.
The inner circle spun to the right with a clicking noise, and three rows of four spikes slid effortlessly out of the plug. George let out a small whistle when took hold of device and began to examine it again. He turned it over and over in his hands.
"Smells like shit, Harry," George said in a flat voice.
"Well, it was up a dragon's arse, you twit," he rejoined.
George grinned. Harry and the Weasley twins regularly exchanged insults. It seemed to prove their affection for him since they did the same to Ron and Giney. Harry waited.
"Nothing about this says dragon... other than the size," George mumbled and stared at it. "It's got a mechanism inside, and it's illegal to build mechanical dragons. It doesn't have scales. No wings. It doesn't breathe fire... no openings. So what's obvious about dragons that connects them to this?"
"They're big, fast, and deadly. This is big for a butt-plug, and those spike might kill a person if putting up their bum didn't do that first. Don't know about fast, but that's what seems obvious to me about dragons, George," Harry grumbled.
George ran his hands along the surface of the object, between the spikes, and openly admired the construction.
"Harry, you've been in Hagrid's class and he teaches about dragons," the identical Weasley twin murmured. "What are the rules about dealing with them?"
"Let's see... there's don't run. Hide behind boulders and not trees. Don't go into dragon territory," he answered.
"Why don't you run?"
"Hagrid says they're attracted to motion. They also like moving targets to shoot fireballs at or throw up flame on `em or lay a patch of fire right where they're going to step," Harry dutifully recited the information the half-giant drilled into all their head.
"And the part about hiding behind boulders?" George continued, and he seemed to be smiling.
"Well, trees can catch fire. Dragons can also bite or claw through trees. Rock just offers more protection."
"What drocnic weapon did you mention most?"
Harry considered his answers, and then gazed at George while he said: "Fire."
"Yes, fire. Fire and dragons go together like naked toes and gnome poo."
"Maybe in your world, but not mine," Harry protested the analogy.
"You just haven't lived in wild places enough, my lad, now..." George said and handed the butt-plug back to Harry. "Go stick this in the fire. I have a feeling that's what Charlie meant by obvious."
A deep sense of protection over the butt-plug swirled through Harry. He narrowed his eyes and glared at George. George raised his hands and flicked his fingers toward the fire as if driving flies to their death. Harry stood and walked to the fireplace. It took him half a minute to find the strength to shove the object into the fire. Then he stood back while George appeared next to him.
"This may take a few minutes," George quietly stated.
Three minutes later dark markings began to appear on the surface of the plug between the rows of spikes. After another minute Harry could discern individual letters. After two more, whole sentences got revealed. George made him wait for one more minute before allowing Harry to remove the plug with the fireplace tongs. Harry did so with a giddy sense of achievement even though he did not personally find the solution.
"Better hurry and write down those words," the red-headed young man said and excitement tinged his instruction.
Harry set the plug down on the firebrick in front of the fire. He retrieved a quill from the common room desk, dipped it ink, and snagged a piece of parchment. After running back to the fireplace, he lay on the floor before the butt-plug and started writing. George lent a hand by turning it when Harry finished copying a line. Only three lines existed.
Foe to fire awaits thee, champion.
Seek the clan never seen on land.
Be quick to free your heart's desire.
"And what the hell does that mean?" Harry said as he scanned the lines over and over.
"Don't be thick, Harry," George chastised him. "Right. I did my part for the glory of Gryffindor. I'm off to surprise Fred."
George did not wait for Harry to speak as he stared to walk away.
"Thanks, George! I owe you one!" Harry yelled at the retreating figure.
George stopped and craned his head around. The pale skin, the red hair, and the hazel eyes so resembled Ron, but the mischief contained with the face belonged solely to the twins. A wicked grin spread across George's face.
"Tsk, tsk, Harry. Have you leaned nothing from Ron during these past three and a half years?" He said in a low voice. "I'll make note of your agreement to owe me one. Be prepared for the day when I come to claim it."
"Ah, right," Harry said and felt a burgeoning discomfort in his mind that he just made an unholy bargain.
George chuckled once and disappeared into the stairwell.
Despite his sense he possibly made a serious blunder, Harry grabbed the sheet of paper, wrote the word hot in the soot before the plug, and then headed for the exit. He tickled the Fat Lady's bum as required, and the portrait door swung open with a giggle. Once in the hallway he made the quick decision to head to the Hufflepuff house. Ass Cleft would likely know best how to contact Diktor and Foul. He clutched the answer in hand and broke into a trot. A swell of relief propelled him on his journey.
Three days later Harry sat alone before the Bi-Wizard Tournament committee. The members sat staring at him. He returned the gaze. Minister of Magic Corny Fudgepacker represented the host country government. Headmistress Olympe Maximus of Boobbeatons Academy of Magic, Headmaster Igor Krackhead of the Spurmstung Institute, and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Snogwarts also sat at the table. Finally, Bratty Crouch, Sr., the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, sat in as one of the regulators of the competition. To one side Rita Skeeter occupied a seat as a reporter for The Daily Profit to make a public record of the proceedings, although her Gossip Quills tended to get carried away.
"Tell us, Potter, did you manage to solve the riddle of the butt-plug?" Professor Dumbledore grumpily inquired.
"Yes, sir," Harry answered.
"How?"
"I placed it in a fire and the words appeared."
"Why this putting in a fire?" Headmaster Krackhead questioned him as the man leaned forward.
"Well, me and a mate sat around trying to figure out what kind of puzzle..."
"Who helped you, Potter?" Dumbledore blared at him.
"George Weasley. He's, um, pretty clever, sir," Harry honestly answered.
The five members of the panel put their heads together and harshly whispered for a long time. Dumbledore appeared even angrier when they broke. The members looked at him.
"Do you not think zis is cheating?" Headmistress Maximus queried.
Harry shook his head and simply said: "No, it isn't."
"And how would you know?" His own headmaster rumbled.
Harry, after talking to the other champions, and then to Ron and Neville, considered the manner in which he solved the butt-plug issue might violate the rules. A day of intensive searching through the rules for each tournament prepared him. He felt confident.
"Well, I read the rules, and it doesn't say we can't ask for outside help in solving the puzzles. None of you never said we couldn't get help. It only says that the champions must present an answer for the riddle in order to move to the next challenge. That's it. That's all the rules ever said for the last four hundred years," Harry explained.
Once again the five heads bent together. Once again they conducted a heated and whispered conversation. Once gain Dumbledore looked more furious. He huffed several times and his hand twitched like he wanted to grab his wand. The other members of the committee appeared neutral.
"You are correct, Monsieur Potter, zis is not outside the rules," the enormously large French woman told him.
"Have you made any attempt to determine what it means?" Mister Crouch inquired.
"A little. I mean, I only figured out how to get the words to show last Sunday," Harry began, "but I think the next challenge is going to take place in the water somewhere. The clan not on land probably means the merpeople or maybe kelpies or someone who lives under the water. To be honest, I don't get the heart's desire part, but the poem says I've got to find it... whatever it is."
Several heads nodded as he spoke. Professor Dumbledore folded his arms across his chest and appeared to be sulking. He would not look at anyone.
"Very well, Mister Potter, you've passed to the next challenge," Minister Fudgepacker informed him, and then winked.
"Thank you. Are we done?" Harry replied.
"We're done!" Dumbledore yelled.
Harry stood up as fast as he could, bowed his head to the assembled, and then made for the door without running. When he reached the hallway, the other champions waited for him. Dressed in the everyday attire, they looked like a normal group of wizarding teenagers. He grinned.
"I told them about George," he said and sighed with relief.
"Bet Dumbledore didn't like that. He's not too fond of the twins," Ass Cleft remarked.
"Can you name me one student he does like?" Harry countered.
While Cedric smirked, Foul said: "So we are all going to the next part, no?"
"We are," Diktor rejoined, yet he did not sound entirely pleased.
"Kum? What's the matter?" Harry asked.
The famed Bulgarian glanced around. He started to walk toward the grand foyer, and the others followed. He seemed to want to get away from the committee room. Harry continued to wonder what bothered him.
"Did we cheat?" Diktor asked when they paused by the master staircase.
"No, we didn't. Are you upset that we got help? That we helped each other?" Diggory questioned the burly young man.
"This is a contest between us, and we are giving help to each other. If I were to help my rival team..."
"Hold on, Diktor," Ass Cleft interrupted. "This is not a fappitch match. Let's get that straight right now. Second, I don't have any intention of helping you during the next challenge, so that part hasn't changed. This riddle... isn't part of the overall contest."
They paused in the conversation as a group of students walked toward them and then headed up the stairs while looking back and whispering to each other. Ever since the tournament began, Harry noticed people doing that more and more around him. Most often it happened when something new, usually wholly fabricated, hit the gossip columns. Ever since the first disastrous interview with the Skeeter woman, Harry adamantly refused to speak with her again. He started to wonder what nonsense she invented before arriving at the qualifying review.
"Maybe the riddle was something meant for us to help each other," Foul speculated. "I do not see why each of those plugs would be ze same. Maybe it was a test of what you call character, no?"
The three males glanced at one another. Harry liked Foul's interpretation of the butt-plug riddle, and that surprised him. It seemed mature take on the otherwise bizarre situation.
Kum frowned.
"Diktor, you play on a team... with a team, right?" Harry rhetorically asked.
The famous fappitch skeeter nodded.
"But your the only one allowed to catch the snatch, right.?"
The man nodded again.
"I play skeeter, too, on our house team, so this makes sense to me. You can't win unless everyone does their part, and there is a part... an action only you can do and no one else can. That's what I think Foul is saying. The challenge is the part where were on our own, Diktor. Like catching the snatch. So, we didn't cheat. Even the rules say we didn't," Harry expressed his freshly modified thinking.
"I see what you think, Harry. This makes sense to me now, too. This riddle is not real part of challenge," Diktor responded and sounded less dire.
"Personally, I think they cooked this up to mess with our heads," Ass Cleft chimed in. "I think Foul is right: it was a test of our character."
The Boobbeatons smiled in a smug manner.
"But I'm not sure what they expected. The truth is Harry and George figured it out... and mostly George by the sound of it."
Harry nodded in agreement with Diggory.
"Would any of you thought to put the plug in a fire?" Ass Cleft continued and glanced around. "The thought never occurred to me. I would've failed that interview."
"So would I," Diktor added.
"And me," Foul confessed, but it sounded grudging.
"Me, too," Harry piped up. "It really was George who solved the puzzle."
"But you're the one who thought to ask him for help, Harry."
Diktor and Foul nodded to Cedric's statement.
"It looks like, Harry, you are little bit hero this time. Good play," Diktor told him and landed a skin-numbing clap on his shoulder.
"Yes, my thanks," Foul mumbled.
"Nice job, Harry. You might've made a good Hufflepuff," Cedric said and teased him.
"Fuck off," Harry grumbled at him through a grin. "Now, can any of you tell me what your heart's desire is? `Cause I sure don't know what mine is!"