Toilet humour, cookery puns and lots of stuff that don't make sense. I don't own Harry Potter, and from this I don't earn any pence.
Chapter 1
The Great Tripiezardry Bake Off
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"Anyway, back to what I was saying," he said, smiling at the frowning students, they did enjoy their Quidditch after all. "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event this year, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Great Tripiezardry Bake Off will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
There was an excited murmur in the air.
"The Great Tripiezardry Bake Off was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of piezardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magibakal tasks. It used to be held every five years, and it was a spectacular way of establishing ties between young cakeches and piezards of different nationalities until, that is, the death roll (he chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows) mounted so high that the Bake Off was sold off to a different chann- I mean discontinued."
"Death ro- I mean toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But Harry didn't care much for rolls, he wanted to hear more about the Bake Off itself.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the Bake Off," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magibakal Cooperation and Magibakal Games and Sports have decided the fruit is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer, while eating lots of summer pudding, to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."
Dumbledore eventually finished his explanation and the students went off to their common rooms. Harry sleepily made his way into his bed and was talking with the others about the possibility of competing. Ron seemed quite eager to try, if Fred and George managed to find a way to pass the age requirements.
Harry rolled over in bed, a series of dazzling new pictures forming in his mind's eye.. He had hoodwinked the impartial judge into believing he was seventeen.. he had become Hogwarts champion.. he was standing on the grounds, his hands (in oven gloves) raised in triumph in front of the whole school (holding a perfectly baked apple pie), all of whom were applauding and screaming.. he had just won the Tripiezardry Bake Off. Cho's face stood out particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, her face glowing with admiration..
"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."
They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.
"Now, Defence Against the Dark Food Poisoning Arts.. I have a letter here from Professor Lupin, he says you have a pretty good understanding on how to tackle dark food creatures, is that right?" Moody asked them.
There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you seem to be very behind on dealing with curses, so I've got one year to teach you how to deal with dark curses." said Moody.
Several of the students went various shades of green at this comment. He would only have one year to teach them before succumbing to the curse of the Dark Crusted Lord. Every single professor that had taught this subject to Harry had always been taken to St. Mungo's, with a case of projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhoea. Harry was unlucky enough to have witnessed this when he visited Professor Lupin at the end of his third year after hearing news that he would no longer be teaching the subject. He was thankful for having the Marauder's Map returned to him, but he spent a month cleaning it over and over again, and even now, on a hot day, he was sure he could smell something nasty coming off of it.
"You alright, Potter?" Moody asked Harry, who had just swallowed a little sick that had come up.
"Fine, sir." Harry mumbled.
"Let's carry on then. So.. do any of you know which food poisoning curses are most heavily punished by piezarding law?"
Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron's and Hermione's. Moody pointed at Ron.
Ron tentatively said, "My dad told me about one.. Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"
Moody took out a baking try from under his desk, it had six circular uncooked biscuits on it. The class was salivating, imagining how it would taste once it was perfectly baked. He limped across the room to the oven and placed it inside then turned to the class.
"How long and how hot? It's a basic biscuit dough, lightly flavoured with vanilla." he asked them
"Gas mark four, bake for ten to twelve minutes!" the class recited at once. It was stuff you learned during your first year.
The professor nodded at them, "So fairly basic stuff, eh? You'd be an idiot to get it wrong, eh?" He turned the knobs on the oven to set the temperature, then he used a speedy-uppy charm on it.
The whole class sniffed the air in appreciation as they smelt the golden buttery biscuits being cooked in the oven. Professor Moody then raised his wooden spatula at the oven and muttered, "Imperio.."
Instantly Harry could tell that something was wrong, he could see and smell the smoke and several people around him were frowning. The timer tinged to indicate the biscuits were cooked and Moody levitated the hot tray out of the oven. There were several gasps from the students as they saw the biscuits all cooked and uncooked to a varying degree. Two were burnt to a crisp, two looked exactly the same as when they had gone in the oven and the final two were a wet dripping mess, looking more like uncooked batter.
"Total control," said Moody quietly as he flung the mess outside the window. "temperature, humidity and anything else that will effect the bake, I can control. The Ministry had a lot of trouble with this, weeding out those who had been forced to bake incompetently and those who were just crappy bakers."
Harry saw a few people shuddering in their seats.
"So another illegal curse, anyone?" he asked the class again.
Harry was surprised to see Neville put his hands up, Moody pointed at him to answer. "Um.. there's.. there's the Cruciatus Curse."
Moody pulled out another tray from underneath his desk, this time there was a chocolate eclair on it, it looked fine, but it didn't have the level of professionalism as the biscuits he had already seen. "Eclair, bought it in Diagon Alley a week ago. First years at Hogwarts should be able to make something similar, so nothing really to write home about."
Harry noticed Hermione was avoiding looking at the cake, as were a few others in the class. Ron, who was always hungry, didn't seem to mind that it was a week old and was eyeing it hungrily. Moody once again raised his wooden spatula and whispered, "Crucio."
Harry was waiting expectantly but nothing seemed to happen. Then he suddenly felt it, the urge to jump forwards, grab the eclair and stuff it in his mouth. Several other people seemed to have the same idea and jumped off their seats running towards the professor. Moody muttered another spell and a barrier formed blocking the students from approaching him. Ron was slamming his fists into the barrier, screaming obscenities and demanding the cake.
"You want it then, Weasley?" Moody grinned evilly at him.
"Yes! Yes!" Ron shouted. Moody created a small hole in the barrier and slipped the cake through towards Ron.
The red haired boy grabbed it and ignoring the sound of Hermione ("Ron! No!"), he took a huge bite. His expression instantly changed to a grimace of pain and he gagged slightly, but then he took another bite and then another..
"How does it taste, Weasley?" Moody asked.
"It tastes like garbage! It tastes like sh-," he choked on the eclair, which he was still eating. "It's the worst thing I ever tasted, and I can't stop eating it."
"Whatever the curse touches becomes the worst tasting thing you could ever imagine, but it makes you want it, it makes you need it." said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse.."
He cast a spell which made the cake vanish from Ron's hands, which made him look up gratefully. He handed a small bottle to Ron, "Drink this, it should get the taste out of your mouth.. Some of it anyway."
Ron downed the potion and went back to his seat, with shaky legs, and the professor once again turned to the class. "So.. the final curse."
Hermione's hand shot up again, and she just said. "Avada Kedavra."
Several people seemed to look uneasy as Moody put his hand under his desk again. This time there was no tray, but a loaf of tiger bread the size of a dog. He placed it on his desk and rolled his hand into a fist and punched down on it, hard. It gave a little, wobbled a bit and sprang back up as if it had never been hit.
"Fresh, crusty, soft. Very strong, it would keep for years with the enchantments placed on it. Dumbledore himself baked it for this class." he said to the class, then he suddenly yelled. "Avada Kedavra!"
There was a flash of green light that flew from his wooden spatula and hit the loaf, which instantly started to crumble, break apart, then there was nothing left but ash.
"Kills the bake dead, just like that. Nothing you can do, no way to block it. Just makes whatever it's used on, into dust." he quietly told the classroom.
So this is how his parents had died. When Voldymouldybreadymort charged into the Potters' house, he had used the curse on the load bearing breadsticks causing the house to collapse, leaving him an orphan to go live with the Dursleys, who hated carbohydrates more than anything else in the world.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody suddenly roared, the whole class jumped in his seats. "The use of any of these curses will get you a one way ticket to Azkapan, but I had to show you. There will always be something, or someone trying to ruin your bakes and you've got to know what your up against. Alright then, take out your quills and copy this down.."
