A/N: I thought it would be interesting to cross Harry Potter with the idea of the Ultimate Showdown – since, in a sense, the premises are the same: Only one will survive, I wonder who it will be? In keeping with that premise, there will be seven chapters to this story. Disclaimer: Harry Potter and supporting characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and the various other characters who appear in this story are owned by others as well. Now, let the carnage begin!

Chapter One

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall on their first day of class; Ron was still smiling to himself and looking at the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had confiscated from a scowling fourth-year boy along the way. Hermione was scowling a bit herself, Harry thought, after seeing Lavender Brown's amused reaction to Ron playing with the Frisbee. She said nothing as they seated themselves at the Gryffindor table, while Harry and Ron each tucked into helpings of porridge, bacon and eggs.

As it turned out, however, she was just concerned whether Hagrid would be upset that they weren't taking his class in their sixth years. "He can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures," she said worriedly, after taking a piece of toast to nibble on. "I mean, when has any of us expressed…you know…any enthusiasm?" she asked.

Ron swallowed an entire fried egg in one gulp. "That's it, though, innit?" he remarked plaintively. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes, 'cause we like Hagrid." He shrugged. "But he thinks we like the stupid subject! D'you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.s?"

A fluttering of wings above them announced the arrival of owl posts, and one landed in front of Hermione with a copy of the Daily Prophet, the Wizarding newspaper. "I don't need one today," she said, mildly exasperated. "I'm going to be too busy to read it," but the owl gave her such a reproachful look that she relented, sighing, and unfastened the paper from the owl's leg, then dropped Knuts into its pouch in payment and pushed a bowl of water over in case it was thirsty. The owl hooted gratefully and began to drink. Hermione unrolled the paper and began reading the first page.

"Anyone we know dead?" Ron said automatically; he had taken to asking the question whenever he saw Hermione with the paper, initially as a joke, but it had taken on more meaning recently, with the spate of deaths in the Wizarding world.

Hermione shook her head distractedly. "No, but there's a funny article here…"

"Read it — we can use a laugh," Ron quipped.

"It's not that kind of funny, Ronald," Hermione replied, frowning, but she began to read the story:


British, Japanese Ministers Nearly Come to Blows

Rufus Scrimgeor, the new British Minister for Magic, and Otoko Miyune, his Japanese counterpart, nearly came to blows during discussions concerning the aftermath of an unusual dragon sighting in Tokyo two days ago.

The dragon, a Common Welsh Green that had been Engorged to monstrous size (over 350 feet long), is native to Wales; its appearance in the city of Tokyo, Japan, was something of a mystery. The Japanese Ministry of Magic had requested a meeting with Scrimgeour and his staff to discuss possible solutions to the problem with the two men began arguing heatedly.

"The Minister was very restrained in his response," said Percy Weasley, an assistant to the Minister. "The Japanese Minister quite overstepped himself."

"We also believe," Weasley added, "that several Japanese Aurors Engorged the Welsh Green to make it appear like the large sea monster that attacks Japan from time to time."

Other rumors, such as several humans attacking the Welsh Green, and each other, went unconfirmed by both the British and Japanese Ministries. Eyewitnesses related several startling events: a masked, dark-costumed man attacking the dragon with an incendiary device, and another person, a tall, black man in a basketball uniform who, incredibly, leaped high into the air, startling the dragon and causing it to hesitate. Reports after this become confused, stating that the men began attacking each other, seemingly at random, as the dragon jumped around, almost playfully, among the buildings of downtown Tokyo.


"Weird," Ron said, swallowing a last piece of bacon. "I guess Percy must be having the time of his life, doing all that stuff with Scrimgeour."

"But doesn't all that sound mighty peculiar to you?" Hermione persisted.

Ron shrugged, and Harry gave Hermione a jaded look. "Hermione," he said with a studied indifference, "we've been dealing with dragons and Basilisks and Death Eaters for years, now. We've practically got Voldemort — " he ignored their flinches at the mention of the Dark Lord's name "— breathing down our necks right now, trying to kill us all and take over Britain. What else could possibly go wrong?"

At that moment there was a loud banging sound from the entrance hall, clearly heard even through the large double doors of the Great Hall, which were closed at the moment. The entire room went suddenly silent. Hermione looked significantly at Harry and Ron.

But Ron merely turned to Harry and said jauntily, "Maybe it's another mountain troll needing its nose swabbed out with your wand, Harry."

Hermione made a face of disgust. "Stop it, Ron, that's not funny."

But Harry was smiling as well. "I guess we should go see," he said, and the two of them began to walk toward the doors. They had barely gotten halfway there, though, before the doors suddenly burst open and two very strange men strode into the room.

The larger of the two men, Harry saw, was a round, beefy fellow who reminded him vaguely of Vernon Dursley, his uncle, with an oversized face and torso. Unlike Vernon's bushy mustache, however, this man sported a small, bristle-brush type under his nose. His clothes were a shabby black suit and nondescript red tie, and his head was topped with a brown derby hat. He was holding something in his hand, but before Harry could see what it was, he stuffed it into his mouth, devouring it in a single gulp that would have make Ron envious.

The man walking beside him, though of slighter stature, looked much more imposing, in an absurd way, Harry thought. Dressed in a black sailor shirt with a wide, red collar, blue bell-bottomed trousers and wearing a captain's sailing cap, he was looking around the room, seeming to look for someone. Harry could see that one of his eyes was squinted closed. His jaw jutted out almost comically, and his forearms were disproportionately larger than his biceps.

"Well, blow me down!" the man said, in a gravelly voice, upon seeing the roomful of students. A small, corncob pipe jutted from the corner of his mouth, Harry saw, keeping him from speaking very clearly. "We has crash-landed in the middle of a noisery school, Wimpy!"

"Indubitably," the other man said, mildly. "But I see no sign Olive is here." Then he spied the plates loaded with food on the four house tables, and his eyes widened as he licked his lips hungrily. "Perhaps we can persuade them to provide us with some sustenance before we resume our search, Popeye?"

"Later," Popeye growled, seeing the row of adults at the front of the Hall. "Firsk, I wants to ask if any of these folks wearing their nightclothes has seen her." He began walking determinedly toward the High Table, where the entire ensemble of teachers had stood. Snape and McGonagall, watching him approach, were talking to one another under their breath. As the man in the sailor suit came closer, Snape walked out from behind the table toward him.

Finally, when they were barely a dozen feet apart, Snape held up his hand and Popeye stopped, watching him silently. "State your business," Snape said curtly.

"I'm lookin' fer Olive Oyl," the sailor man replied, in the same tone of voice.

Snape's lip curled. "Surely, you might have picked up some at a local store in America," he said bitingly. "You hardly needed to come to England for it."

"England?!" the sailor said, jerking his head so hard his cap lifted momentarily off his head, revealing a red crew cut nearly as bright as Ron's own hair. "Izzat where we is?"

"You don't know where you are?" McGonagall said sharply. "How did you get here?"

"Me flying boat," Popeye said, jerking a thumb behind him, obviously a gesture toward the outside of the castle. "We wuz flyin' over this place an' it suddenly conked out on us, an' we crash-landed outside." He looked back at Snape. "Olive Oyl is me goilfriend. She wuz kidnapped by Bluto."

"Why did he kidnap her?" Hermione asked unexpectedly.

Popeye and Wimpy both looked around at her. "He's always kidnapping her," Wimpy said, sounding weary.

"Yeah," Popeye concurred, sounding disgusted as well. "An' when I gets me hands on 'im, I'm gonna murderlize 'im." He picked up a nearby chair and, rearing back with his fist, struck it a mighty blow. The chair shattered into flinders. Wiping his hands free of sawdust, Popeye looked squinty-eyed at Snape, dasting him to say something.

Snape wordlessly surveying the shattered pieces of the chair for a moment, then took out his wand and waved it over them. The chair immediately reassembled itself once again. There was a general exclamation throughout the Hall; Harry and Ron looked at each other, then at Hermione. "Okay, that was pretty cool," Ron said in a low voice. Harry, no fan of Snape, said nothing, though he was impressed as well.

Both the man and his traveling companion were astonished, however. "Avast there!" he shouted, looking hard at Snape. "Are you some offsprig o' the Sea Hag?!"

"Hardly," Snape said thinly, pointing his wand at the sailor's chest. "Now, let us go and examine your ship — perhaps it can be repaired, and you can be on your way again, to find your… friends."

The sailor rocked back and forth for several seconds, looking around the room at the other teachers and students, clearly spoiling for a fight. Finally, however, he stopped and said with a shrug, "Well, why nots?"

"I will return shortly," Snape said to McGonagall, not taking his eyes off the sailor and his companion as they turned and walked toward the entrance to the Great Hall. They marched through, Snape following them, and the doors shut themselves behind him. The room began to buzz with conversations.

"Did you ever see such a strange looking pair in your life?"

"Weirdest-looking guy I ever saw!"

"Can you imagine how strong he'd have to be to break a chair like that?"

Harry ignored the comments coming from all around him. As strange as the pair had been, he'd seen stranger still. All the same, he couldn't ignore the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

"We need to follow Snape," he said to Ron and Hermione, in a low voice.

"Huh? What for?" Ron asked, surprised. He was chewing on a piece of bacon and reaching for yet another slice.

"We can't, Harry," Hermione insisted, looking back at the High Table. "Professor McGonagall is about to get us sorted for our N.E.W.T. classes!"

However, school activities became moot as a commotion was heard outside the doors of the Great Hall — there was shouting from both Snape and the sailor, then a loud CRASH as the doors of the Great Hall burst off their hinges and Popeye sailed into the room, falling in a crumpled heap on the floor behind the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.

The room filled with shouts and screams of consternation; both Harry and Ron came to their feet, wands in hand, as did many other Gryffindors. What could have thrown a human with such force as to break apart the doors of the Great Hall?

The answer was forthcoming immediately, as a veritable mountain of a man lumbered into the room through the wrecked doorway, pulling someone along behind him. There were gasps from many in the room at the size of him — like Hagrid, he was bigger than should be allowed. He barely seemed to fit through the doorway, and though he wasn't quite as tall as Hagrid, the ferocity of his expression made him seem even larger. Also, like the Hogwarts half-giant, he was black-haired and bearded, but his eyes were hard and cruel, not crinkled nor smiling, like the gamekeeper's. He was dressed almost the same as Popeye, in a sailor's shirt and pants, and wearing a captain's cap.

The person he held by one arm was nearly as unique as him, and must be the woman the sailor referred to as his "goilfriend," Olive Oyl. A young, preternaturally thin woman, with a pleasant though plain face and dark hair pulled back in a bun similar to McGonagall's, she was fighting ineffectually against his grip. "Oh, Popeye!" she wailed, her voice nasal and annoying. "Help me!"

But Popeye, crumpled on the floor of the Great Hall, didn't look like he'd be helping anyone any time soon. Harry and Ron glanced at each other, then turned back to the giant figure now slowly advancing on the sailor's crumpled body. "Let her go!" Harry shouted as he and Ron advanced on the giant, their wands at the ready.

"Hmm?" the black-bearded man smirked at him. "Yer gonna need a bigger stick than that, sonny," he said, his voice a deep, heavy basso, "if yer gonna take on Bluto!" He actually thumped his chest proudly.

"Hold it, Harry!" another voice shouted, and Harry glanced back toward the High Table, seeing that Hagrid himself had come into the room, from the teacher's entrance. "Let me have a word wit' the 'gen'leman.'" He advanced on Bluto, who watched him, scowling, until there was only a dozen feet separating them.

"Let th' woman go, an' we can talk," Hagrid said reasonably. Bluto snorted and released Olive's arm; she ran over to the body of Popeye who, incredibly, Harry saw, was still alive. Any other human would have been broken by such an impact as he'd endured. He was just stirring as Olive fell to her knees beside him, sobbing.

"Come on, ya pansy," Bluto gestured at Hagrid, both hands held out as if to wrestle with him, and Hagrid fell into a similar stance. The two began circling each other, and McGonagall began moving students toward the doors. With roars of anger, the two behemoths grappled together. Students began running toward the exits, and there were screams of panic. Hermione ran up to Harry and Ron.

"We have to go!" she said, tugging frantically at both of them, but Harry caught her arm.

"No," he said, stopping her. "I'm going to help Hagrid stop this guy, in case he needs it." She turned to Ron, who nodded as well.

"What should I do?" she asked, sounding frightened.

"Go see what happened to Snape," Harry said quickly, watching Hagrid as he and the huge human battered away at each other, each landing blows that resounded throughout the Great Hall like firecrackers in a hogshead. This Bluto seemed as tough as Hagrid — no wonder Popeye was no match against him, as strong as he'd been. The smaller sailor was now sitting up and holding his head, trying to get to his feet but being held back by the tall, thin woman, Olive, as they watched the fight between Hagrid and Bluto.

Hermione nodded and took a wide path around the combatants, slipping out into the entrance hall, just as Bluto landed a decisive blow to the side of Hagrid's head that literally knocked the half-giant into the air, landing on the Ravenclaw house table and sliding down it, knocking food and plates onto the floor until, at its far end, he came to a halt and lay still.

"Hagrid!" Ron and Harry both shouted, and Bluto turned toward them with a growl of anger. By now the Hall was empty except for the two giants, and Popeye and Olive. But, Harry then saw, Popeye's friend Wimpy was in the room as well, sitting at the Slytherin table and feasting on the plates of food left there.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then at the same time pointed their wands at Bluto and shouted "Stupefy!" but both of the red bolts simply ricocheted uselessly off the big man's skin. He was as resistant to Stunners as Hagrid was!

Bluto turned toward the two Gryffindors and began shuffling toward them, a nasty grin on his face. Ron looked at Harry nervously. "I'm starting to remember how stupid it was, the time we attacked that mountain troll in the girl's bathroom," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"That was to save Hermione," Harry reminded him. "And we barely knew any magic back then."

"We'd better start remembering some, now!" Ron said, shrilly, as Bluto advanced on them, raising his arms menacingly.

"Shield Charm," Harry said quickly. "Now!" They both shouted "Protego!" and shields formed between them and the advancing juggernaut. Bluto pushed ineffectually against the invisible barriers for several seconds, frustrated. Then, he reared back, waving his fist in an ever-enlarging circle, building up momentum, then slammed it into Ron's shield. Ron shouted in surprise as the shield lifted and carried him into the air. As he began to drop, however, Harry turned and silently cast Levicorpus at him — Ron's fall halted and he spun, heels over head, in midair. "Catch yourself!" Harry shouted at Ron, then cast Liberacorpus to release him.

He turned around just in time to dispel his own shield as the gargantuan human swung at it, his fist hitting only empty air, and nearly falling over. Bluto looked around stupidly, then bared his yellowed teeth in a growl of anger. He began to advance on Harry.

Would Levicorpus work on someone almost as big as Hagrid? Only one way to find out, Harry decided, silently casting the spell at Bluto. One of his legs jerked up, into the air. Bluto stared at it in surprise, suspended before him, then grabbed the leg and slowly began to force it back down to the ground.

Ron, now back on his feet, ran up to rejoin Harry while Bluto grunted with the effort of getting his foot back on the floor. "Now what?" he muttered anxiously. "We can't stun him, he's knocked Hagrid out cold, and that other guy still looks pretty out of it." Harry glanced over at Popeye, who was rubbing his head, still trying to shake the cobwebs out.

Bluto's foot touched the ground, and, with a roar of rage, he grabbed the end of the Gryffindor table, bracing the end against his chest, and lifted the entire table into the air, the far end reaching almost to the ceiling. Both Harry and Ron gaped in astonishment, too dumbfounded even to protect themselves, as Bluto began to swing the entire table at them. At the last second they dived in opposite directions, and the table slammed into the floor between them. The behemoth sailor raised it in the air again, this time aiming for Harry. Ron sent several Stunners at him, but again they bounced ineffectually off — Harry prepared to dive again, hoping that either he or Ron could survive this fight and take out Bluto before he wrecked the entire school.

As Bluto started to drop the table onto Harry, however, it froze, hovering in midair. Harry looked up, astonished, then rolled out from under it as he heard Hermione scream, "Harry! MOVE!!" Coming to his feet, Harry saw Hermione at the doorway of the Great Hall. Beside her, his wand outstretched to hold the table suspended above Harry, was Severus Snape, looking rather the worse for wear – his black hair was disheveled and there was blood and a reddish bruise on his face.

"So," Bluto rumbled, turning to see Snape. "The longhair's back, eh?" Snape pointed his wand at the giant sailor — the Gryffindor table crashed to the ground next to Harry, breaking in several places. Harry looked at it in surprise, then scowled at Snape in irritation. He did that on purpose, Harry thought.

"Go see to Hagrid," Snape ordered Hermione, who ran to where the half-giant lay on the Ravenclaw table. She examined him quickly and nodded to Harry and Ron. Meanwhile, Bluto was advancing on Snape, who was moving along the Slytherin table, trying to keep distance between them. At the far end of the Slytherin table, Popeye's companion, Wimpy, continued to help himself to the food there, oblivious to the fighting.

Popeye had finally regained his feet and was staring at Bluto in undisguised animosity. As Harry watched, the sailor reached into a back pocket of his bulging trousers and pulled out a can, then impressively tore off the lid with his bare hands. He tilted the can over his head and let the contents slide into his gaping mouth, swallowing the contents in three quick gulps. Harry recognized the contents as cooked spinach, a food he'd had to prepare and eat many times at the Dursley home. Dudley refused to touch it, and Aunt Petunia had forced Harry to eat it as leftovers. But now, something Harry had never seen before, something strange, began happening to Popeye.

Within moments, he became transformed. His rangy frame was now seething with power. He bent both arms, biceps bulging alarmingly large. Harry watched as anchor tattoos on each forearm swelled to double their original size. Popeye ran toward Bluto who, sensing an attack coming from a different direction, turned and lunged toward the diminutive sailor as well. But if Hagrid couldn't best this monster of a man, Harry thought, what chance did a scrawny sailor half his size have?

The answer was almost immediate — Bluto swung a massive fist at Popeye's head, only to have it stopped cold against the smaller sailor's outstretched palm. Popeye then yanked the fist toward him, pulling Bluto into reach, and connected with a right uppercut that sent Bluto soaring into the air, slamming against the roof of the Great Hall with a tremendous CRACK, then down to the floor where he landed with an equally loud BOOM.

Clambering to his feet, the hulking, black-bearded sailor reached out to grapple with his smaller adversary, but Popeye erupted in a blindingly fast series of pile-driver blows to Bluto's chest and stomach, forcing him steadily back, his heavy sailor's boots sliding across the stone floor of the Great Hall. One final blow from Popeye's fist toppled him over onto his back.

But the big sailor was up again at once and rushing forward again. Popeye rolled, almost casually, between Bluto's legs and came up behind him. Bluto, who'd tried to grab Popeye as he slipped through his legs, was now bent over double, peering at Popeye upside down; Popeye leaned down and slugged Bluto in the face, slamming his head into the floor. Bluto, now out on his feet, fell forward, his legs flying through the air to land with twin THUDs against the floor. Popeye stepped nonchalantly onto his chest, examining him for signs of faking unconsciousness. One knee began to bend and Popeye stomped on his stomach. The leg fell back to the ground. Bluto was out cold.

Harry, Ron and Hermione gathered around Bluto's unconscious body, Hermione walking slowly with Hagrid, who had regained consciousness. They were joined by Snape and Olive. Wimpy was still seated at the Slytherin table, devouring all the food in sight.

Popeye stepped down from Bluto's chest and stood beside Olive, who put her arms around his shoulders and began kissing his cheek unashamedly. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged, then at Hermione, who was smiling at the pair, blushing slightly.

The only person who wasn't smiling was Snape, who was staring at Popeye with a mixture of suspicion and incomprehension. "Excuse me," he said, finally, "but just what are you supposed to be?"

"I yam what I yam, an' that's all that I yam," he replied in a singsong voice. "I'm Popeye the sailor man," and tooted his pipe twice for emphasis. Then, hoisting the unconscious body of the huge sailor over one shoulder, Popeye sauntered out of the Great Hall, followed by Olive and finally, Wimpy, who bowed slightly and tipped his brown derby to them all as he left the Hall.

"Whatever that was all about," Snape said, turning to the three Gryffindors, an eyebrow arched suspiciously at them, "I trust it will not be repeated again in this school. Ever."

"We didn't do anything!" Harry replied at once. "We were as surprised as you were!"

"Is that why you elected to stay and fight someone who had just knocked out the largest member of our staff?" Snape shot back. "You were too surprised to seek cover?"

"Hagrid's our friend," Hermione replied, her voice firm.

"Ah, I see," Snape said, his mouth twisting sardonically. "That's obviously why his sixth-year Care of Magical Creatures classes are all empty." Hermione winced, while Harry and Ron glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"What?" Hagrid looked at them in openmouthed shock. "But — but — I thought yeh liked my classes!" He sounded devastated, Harry thought, hating Snape even more for pointing it out right now.

"It's not about that, Hagrid," Hermione began to say. "It's just that —" But Hagrid had turned without another word and stalked from the Great Hall, leaving the three of them upset, and Snape with a small smile of malicious triumph on his lips.

No sooner had Hagrid left the room than two more figures appeared in the ruined doorway of the Great Hall: Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, both looking very seriously at the four of them.

"We have a situation," Dumbledore began, without preamble. "I am calling all members of the staff to the staff room to discuss it." He looked at Harry and his friends. "I will want you there, Harry, and Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, as well."

"Is that wise, Headmaster?" Snape said, eyeing the three students balefully. It was well known that Snape hated Harry as much as Harry loathed him. And there was certainly no love lost between him and Ron or Hermione. "Unless you wish the whole student body to know this situation…"

"That's not fair —!" Ron began indignantly, in a rare moment of standing up to Snape, but Professor Dumbledore had put a hand, the one that had been blackened and withered by means unknown, which silenced both Ron and Snape.

"I have my reasons, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, turning to leave. "Minerva, please escort these three to the staff room. Severus, come with me." Dumbledore and Snape walked back into the entrance hall, toward the marble staircase leading to the first floor.

"Follow me, please," McGonagall said curtly, leading them across the entrance hall, to the door on the north wall that led to a long hallway where there were several unused classrooms and an entrance to the castle courtyard. Immediately inside the corridor, on the left side, was the door leading to the staff room. McGonagall led the three of them inside.

Harry remembered the room, though he had not been here since he and Ron hid in the wardrobe listening to the staff discuss one of the students being taken by the Heir of Slytherin to the Chamber of Secrets, three years earlier. The room was long and paneled, with a dozen or so chairs, of mismatched types, arranged more or less in a circle around the center of the room. Near the door was the large, dusty wardrobe where he and Ron had hidden. The room was empty; no other teachers or staff had yet arrived.

"Be seated," McGonagall told them, her manner indicating she disagreed with Dumbledore's decision to let them be a part of whatever he planned to discuss with the other teachers. "The staff will be here shortly." She left.

"What do you think?" Ron asked the moment the door clicked shut.

"Dunno," Harry said. He decided to let them in on his secret. "When — when Dumbledore came to get me," he said slowly, "he said he wanted to give me — private lessons."

"Cool!" Ron said, impressed.

"What kind of lessons?" Hermione asked, sounding interested and a trifle irritated.

"Dunno," Harry said again. "He said, 'a little of this, a little of that,' that's all."

"But how could he have known something like this was going to happen?" Hermione pondered aloud.

"Yeah, well, tha's Dumbledore, innit?" Ron said, in a passable imitation of Hagrid's remark from the day before, when they'd seen him after the start-of-term feast. Hermione gave him a you-think-you're-so-clever look.

Harry said nothing. There was nothing else to be said, he decided, until they heard from Dumbledore what this was all about.