Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, Colin and Dennis Creevey, and the rest of the characters, settings, etc. from the Harry Potter series. I didn't invent and don't own any of them. She also owns the plot from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which this story will be rigorously based on.

I've always wished Harry would pay more attention to the Creevey brothers. Not that I blame him for not doing so; we all know how much he hates being "famous Harry Potter," and the Creevey's admiration only serves to remind him of his unwanted fame. So, this story will serve to give the Creeveys some of the attention I wish they could get. I give you:

Colin Creevey and the Triwizard Badges

The spells in Chapter 1 aren't real, as I'm really hoping is obvious. Wouldn't want you to think I made up spells that silly.

Chapter 1: The Neighbor's House

Colin Creevey was dueling frantically with his neighbor's flower boxes. His wand refused to work properly, though, and his arms would barely move. The boxes had him surrounded, purple flowers giggling maniacally. He managed to send a stream of sparks at the nearest one. It jumped back a few inches, but it only waited a few seconds before advancing again. Colin started to panic as it crept towards him, waving its petals menacingly.

"Hang on a sec, Colin!" shouted a familiar voice from nearby. A moment later, Harry Potter came crashing through the carefully manicured hedge. The flower boxes scuttled away from him, cowering against the wall, leaves and stems curling up in fright.

"Carpe florus!" Harry shouted. A jet of light shot from his wand, blowing up the largest box and spraying potting soil all over Harry, Colin, and Mrs. Twitmyer's window. The flowers in the other boxes began shrieking madly. One of them launched itself at Harry's head, potting soil spewing wildly, purple petals turning an angry puce—

"Wingardium petrificotatalus!" Colin shouted, finally able to brandish his wand. The box stopped an inch from Harry's forehead and dropped at his feet, its flowers shriveling away. The other boxes whimpered and scooted rapidly around the corner of the house, hiding behind their leaves. Harry turned around, grinning at Colin, and reached out to shake his hand—

"Boy!" Mrs. Twitmyer's familiar screech echoed around the sideyard. She leapt through her window, landing between the two boys and the newly wrecked hedge, cutting off their escape. "Colbert Creevey—you—Colbert—Denton—whichever—" She choked on her fury, her plump face an odd shade of reddish green. Screaming silently, she advanced on the two boys, shaking her finger wildly. Colin's voice and hands seemed to be frozen again. He could hear the flowers hissing angrily as they lurked in the darkness around the corner. They would come join Mrs. Twitmyer any moment now— Colin looked desperately at Harry. Harry winked at him and whirled his wand.

"Perinaseum!" he shouted. Mrs. Twitmyer went a little transparent and looked down at herself, startled. "Quick! Through the window!" Harry yelled, grabbing Colin's wrist and leaping cleanly through the glass just as Mrs. Twitmyer had. The boys landed on a picture frame, which shattered gracefully as they floated to the floor. Outside, Mrs. Twitmyer pounded angrily on the window. But then, she abruptly stopped, drew herself up, and pointed significantly at Colin. Fear stabbed through him as she whirled around and marched away.

"The door!" Colin gasped.

"Right!" exclaimed Harry, rushing for the front of the house, but the door burst open just as the boys reached it. Mrs. Twitmyer strode in furiously, her flower boxes cackling as they floated in formation behind her.

"Coltrane! Denzel!" she shouted at Colin. "Whichever nasty little Creevey you are—you can't get away that easy!"

"Fungulana!" shouted Harry. The door turned an eerie green.

"Natatorium!" cried Colin, and a smell of bleach filled the room.

"Phosphorosium!"

"Electro Encephalogram!"

"Finderskeepersitis!"

"Ofinlandia!"

"Neverneverland!"

The air was filled with spells shooting every which way. Mrs. Twitmyer retreated in furious confusion. The boys pressed forward, wands hissing and spitting—

"Presbyterianism!"

"Bibliophilius!"

"Colin!"

"Colin!"

Colin opened his eyes with a start, gasped, and sat up in confusion.

"WhersaTwit?" he said thickly. He blinked sleepily around his dark room, his gaze finally lighting on his younger brother, Dennis, who was sitting up in bed, gazing at him expectantly and clearly not sleepy at all.

"What izzit, Dennis? Whatime is it?"

"It's five in the morning!" Dennis chirped excitedly. "Colin, there's only two weeks left 'til we go to Hogwarts!"