About the last chapter. I accidentally put the link to the live performance, instead of just the recording. It's changed now. Not that the live one doesn't kick proverbial rear-end, it's just probably not the best thing to watch if you're not already an MSI fan. Oh well, I love both videos.

Now onto the chapter. Feedback would be greatly appreciated yadda yadda yadda.


Disclaimer: Always treat your magical elf slaves with respect. You never know when you might get locked in an evil wizard's basement and need rescuing.


Well, this won't do any good, Mike thought as Harry got to his feet and shuffled up to the staff table. First he's 'The Boy Who Lived', now he's gonna be 'The Fourth Champion' or something. Poor kid. Something fucked up's going on here. Something's up with that Goblet.

He watched Harry move off into the second chamber, then looked out round at the Hall. Nobody had applauded Harry, and they were now all muttering darkly to each other. Mike sucked on his lip ring, something he always did when he felt uncomfortable. Beside him, Hagrid was looking thunderstruck. Down the table, Dumbledore was saying something to professor McGonagall.

"Silence, please," the headmaster said, getting to his feet. "I am aware that this is a most irregular occurrence. If you could all return to your dormitories, the teachers and judges shall sort this out. You will be notified of what is happening tomorrow morning. Goodnight to you all."

Dumbledore turned and, along with the other Headmasters, Barty Crouch, Severus, and Minerva, headed through the door to meet the champions. Ludo Bagman had entered a few moments earlier. Mike was rather interested to know what was going on, but Dumbledore waved a hand at him, indicating that he should watch the students. Mike stuck out his lower lip in annoyance. Then he jumped to his feet and clapped his hands.

"People! People!" he said loudly. When nobody paid him the slightest bit of attention, Mike shifted through his pockets, looking for something to help him. He come up with an old firework. Frowning at this, Mike wondered why an earth he had a firework in his coat pocket. Then he remembered that the last time he had worn that coat had been at Lewis's birthday, during which there had been fireworks going off. He had pocketed a small one at the end, wanting to see if he could work in a joke about there being 'sparks' on his next date. He had completely forgotten about it until now.

Quickly, Mike spat on the small rocket, then threw it up into the air. It fizzled, then exploded with a loud report and a shower of orange lights. Everybody in the Hall shut up.

"Right," Mike said, his voice ringing through the Hall. "You heard the Headmaster. Bed. To your dormitories or your ship or your carriage depending on your school. Off we go now. No time to waste. Move it." With the help of the other remaining teachers, Mike started chivying the kids out of the great hall. A lot of them asked questions as Mike shoved them through the doors.

"How did he get his name into the goblet?"

"I don't know, Zachariah. Maybe he he stood outside the circle and levitated it in. Did any of you ever think of doing that?"

"There not going to let him compete, are they? He's only a kid. He'll die."

"I'm sure Dumbledore will think of something, Cho."

"Do you think some dark magic is to blame? Maybe it was a wrackspurt messing with the goblet. They can make human brains go fuzzy, maybe they could-"

"As much as I love discussing wrackspurts, Luna, now really isn't the time. Off you trot."

Slowly, the multitude of students made their way out of the Hall and off to bed. Most of them were still scowling and muttering about 'that little show-off, Potter', but a few of them just seemed perplexed. The Gryffindors all looked thrilled. Mike stood in the hall for a moment, wondering if he should go back and see if everything was alright. After all, it was his duty as a teacher to care about the well-being of his students. Plus, he was nosy.

As he stood deliberating what to do, a wave of nausea hit him and he had to lean against the wall. That had been one of the side affects of the sobering draft, hadn't it? Nausea? Man, he hadn't expected it to be like this. He'd thought it would jsut be a little bit throghout the day, but it seemed that a magical hangover involved a sudden, heavy desire toempty his stomach all over the floor. Mike didn't fancy doing this and, deciding that he would just find out what was going on in the morning, he shuffled back to his own room.

000

"Rosmerta, I will never know how a lovely lady such as yourself doesn't have a boyfriend. If I didn't want to ruin our friendship, I'd be screwing you right now."

"Michael, if you weren't a complete love rat, I just might let you. Another Firewhiskey?"

"Please."

Mike was sitting at a table in the middle of the Three Broomsticks pub with Hagrid and Mad-Eye. The three had been getting along swimmingly and had been discussing the first task. Mike had received a letter from his sister which had said to go to a certain spot in the grounds that night and he had been trying to work out what was going on. Hagrid had also been invited to go to the grounds by a friend of his, another dragon keeper. Clearly, the first task would involve something large, scaly, and fire-breathing. Mike just hoped Harry wouldn't die because he was starting to quite like the kid.

"Yeh're gonna come to the cabin at ten, yeah?" Hagrid asked for the seventh time that day. Mike smiled, chuckling to himself.

"Hagrid, calm down. Yes, I'm going to come see you at ten and make sure you look simply fabulous for your date. Don't worry. Ah, thanks Rosmerta." He took the amber glass from the curvy barmaid, giving her a wink as he did so. She blushed slightly, then turned and walked back down the room. Mike watched her go, sipping his drink. If only he didn't have a rule about not screwing his source of alcohol.

"I'd best be going," said Hagrid, getting to his feet. "I have to get back to the Skrewts. They've been getting antsy."

"I should go too," said Moody, pocketing his hipflask and pushing himself upright. "Nice talking with you."

"Hang on! I'll walk with you," said Mike, downing his drink in one go, then yelping at the scorching in his throat. This was a very strong brand of Firewhiskey, stronger than he was used to. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he hopped up. The three started to move towards the door, but then Moody stopped, nudged Hagrid, and pointed. Mike followed his arm and saw Hermione Granger sitting alone in one corner. Briefly, Mike wondered where Ron and Harry were, then remembered that the boys had fallen out. They had moved to opposite sides of the classroom in History of Magic, obviously upset about something. Hermione probably wanted some time away from them and frankly he couldn't blame her.

"Harry Potter just waved to you," Mad-Eye said, walking towards the table. "He's under his invisibility cloak."

"Invisibility... Wow, gotta see that. I've read a lot about invisibility cloaks. Wait, you can see through invisibility cloaks too? Cool, what else?" He opened his mouth to ask the question which had been bugging him for weeks, whether he had looked through girl's clothes, but stopped when he realised Hermione probably wouldn't want to hear about that.

"Hello, Hermione!" he said, moving round the table. "What are you writing?"

"Hello," Hermione smiled, holding up her notebook. "It's just something for a club I set up: S.P.E.W."

"Spew?"

"No, sir. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I want to give house elves decent wages and working conditions, because they're treated so horribly now, you know. Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions..."

Mike nodded, finding himself quite interested in what Hermione was saying. She wanted to give House Elves all the rights that she thought they deserved. She even showed him a small box of badges she had made. Wordlessly, Mike placed two sickles on the table, then helped himself to a bright pink badge. Hermione's jaw dropped. From her expression, Mike guessed she hadn't had a willing member yet.

"I'm all for giving House Elves the right to decent working conditions and wages," Mike said. "They're sort of like a meek version of goblins. Anyone deserves the choices, don't they? So long as you're not forcing them into anything, I guess. And I certainly think people could stand to treat their House Elves better. Let me know how you get on with that stuff. And if you have any meetings or anything."

Hagrid and Moody had been speaking quietly to Harry who was apparently sitting on Hermione's right. Mike grinned at him when the three left.

"Nice ter see yeh, Hermione," Hagrid said with a wink as they departed. The weather was cold outside so Mike pulled his coat on tighter, then remembered his earlier thoughts.

"Hey, Mad-Eye, can I ask you something?"

Mad-Eye nodded, walking down the street back towards Hogwarts. Mike danced in front of him with a grin. "Your magical eye can see through tables and invisibility cloaks and your own head, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Well, have you ever looked through someone's clothes? Checked them out?"

"Mike!" Hagrid yelped, turning beetroot. Moody gave a scowl. Mike just grinned wider, dancing up the street.

"Can you see through my clothes right now? I don't blame you for looking, anybody would. But be honest, which tattoo is your favourite? Is it this one?" He pointed to his right forearm. "This one?" He indicated his left shoulder. "Oh no, what about this one?" Mike turned and jabbed a finger at the small of his back. "I admit, that one's a personal favourite of mine. Took a while to do too, because I insisted they get every scale and tooth. Then they had to go over the little man because he didn't look quite like me."

Moody ignored the younger man's comments, but Hagrid was frowning. He glanced at Mike's back, quite curious as to what the tattoo depicted.

000

"The comb's broken, Mike," Hagrid said morosely, picking one of the teeth out of his hair. "And the shirt doesn't fit very well." From his position by Hagrid's wardrobe, Mike sighed. It seemed that the Care of Magical Creature's teacher had absolutely no sense of style and his clothes were all either dirty, torn, hairy, misshapen, or a combination of the four. Mike swore under his breath, then decided to go a different tack.

"Alright, so we can't neaten you up," he said, striding over to where Hagrid was seating. "That's fine. We'll try something else instead. You can be the ruffian with a heart of gold or something. You have any flowers?"

"Yeah, in the garden."

"I'll be right back. You put on your suit." Mike turned and hopped out of the door. He scoured Hagrid's flower bed in search of something which could be useful. All he could find were things which looked like artichokes, several vegetables, and a patch of daisies. Deciding that a daisy would be too small, Mike picked the prettiest artichoke thing then headed back inside. Hagrid was wearing his suit which Mike had been going over with a brush so that it didn't appear quite as unruly. It was still pretty bad, but it could be worse. Mike had also set fire to that awful tie. Smiling, Mike stepped up and, standing on a chair, placed the flower in Hagrid's buttonhole.

"D'yeh think it'll go well?" Hagrid asked, wringing his hands nervously.

"I know it'll go well. Just be yourself, I guess. Oh, maybe you could do a bit of French. So she knows you're willing to make an effort. Say Bong-sewer when you meet her."

"Bong-sewer," Hagrid repeated to himself. "Bong-sewer. Bong-sewer."

000

"That is a hell of a dragon," Mike breathed, looking up at the large blue creature in front of him. It was snapping and snarling at a group of wizards at it's feet, occasionally sending out jets of flame. Mike looked out and recognised his sister, Bethany, dodging the blue dragon's claws.

"It's no good!" she shouted as he watched. "Stunning spells on the count of three! One, two, three! Stupefy!" The four huge lizards tottered, then all fell to the ground with a thump. From his position by the fence, Mike applauded loudly, then waved to his sister.

"Mike!" she smiled, running up and pulling him into a hug. "Glad you could make it! What do you think?" She waved a hand at the stunned creature behind her.

"These for the champions? They gonna have to fight them?"

"I guess so," Bethany shrugged. "It's gonna be really hard, though. The Horntail (that's that black one) has teeth and barbs on its tale. The Chinese Fireball is incredibly intelligent. Swedish Short-Snout has a thicker hide, pretty much nothing will work. Even it's eye is protected. Then the Welsh Green over there is the fastest. There are going to be a couple of scrapes, that's for sure." Mike nodded, then vaulted over the fence and moved over to the Short-Snout. Bethany grabbed his arm.

"Sorry, Mike. Can't let just anyone wander over to the dragons. Have to be a fully qualified dragon keeper, not a history teacher."

"Oh, come on Beth. I just want a closer look."

Bethany opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the arrival of a broad, red-haired man who was grinning. "Going to introduce me, Beth?"

Bethany smiled and pushed Mike forward. "Charlie, this is my little brother Mike. Mike, this is Charlie Weasley, a friend and fellow dragon enthusiast."

"Hello," Mike grinned, shaking his hand and feeling numerous calluses and blisters. "Another Weasley, huh? I teach your siblings Ron and Ginny."

"Yeah, I think they've mentioned you. Professor Smitt, right? And of course, I'd heard a lot from Beth and Lewis. That kid never shuts up about his Uncle Mike." Charlie grinned and Mike was reminded of someone. He couldn't quite put his finger on who he was reminded of, but he knew that it would probably annoy him for several months. Instead of dwelling on it, Mike raised a hand at the dragons.

"Talk me through them," he said excitedly. "What do I need to know about these dragons, huh?"

Immediately, Charlie launched into a detailed explanation of the habits of Swedish Short-Snouts, pointing out several different marking on the creature's hide. Meanwhile, Bethany started double checking the chains and, on the far corner of the paddock, Hagrid was talking to Madame Maxime. He struggled to remember the tips Mike had given him, finding himself getting flustered. He had been glad at Mike's suggestion to take Madame Maxime out to the dragons though. The sight of the lizard-like creatures calmed him down slightly. Say what you will about Michael Smitt, but he knew how people worked.

000

At the first task, Mike was to be found at the front of the stands cheering loudly, applauding, jumping up and down at the more exciting moments, and generally behaving in a manner which many would find inappropriate in a Hogwarts teacher. Beside him, Severus Snape leaned away to avoid the flailing arms. He was too fond of his teeth to put them in any danger.

To show his school spirit, Mike had several badges pinned to the front of his jacket. First there was his S.P.E.W. badge. Then there was a bright red one which declared 'Support CEDRIC DIGGORY - the REAL Hogwarts Champion'. The third one he had made himself to go with the Cedric Diggory badge. It said, in blue this time, 'Support HARRY POTTER - the other, equally important Hogwarts Champion'. A few Gryffindors had asked for their own Harry Potter badges and they could be seen dotted around the audience. He would've worn badges for Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour as well, but none of their classmates would take his requests seriously. Eventually he had decided on a Bulgarian Quidditch team rosette which he had found at the back of his classroom one afternoon, and an iris, the national flower of France. Most people didn't get this and just thought he was being a bit eccentric. Of course, by this time most people were used to him and nobody batted an eyelid.

They did think it strange when Mike started a Mexican wave, but nobody complained. As Mike pointed out to a disinterested Snape, "It's impossible to complain about a Mexican wave. Now, come on. You just stand up and raise your arms, then sit back down again. It's a laugh. You'll enjoy it, I promise. Oh, you're no fun, Severus."