CHAPTER 14: THE CHAMPIONS
The day seemed to drag by. O'Bannon kept looking at his watch or the clock on his desk, wishing for dinner time to get here. Even though he wondered what motivated someone to put their name in the Goblet of Fire, he was still anxious to see who'd be picked. He'd root for Angelina to get it for Hogwarts. She appeared capable of handling herself in a tournament like this, more than Fred and George.
That made him wonder if he could handle himself in something like the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He'd always done very well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. All that knowledge and skill would certainly come in handy in a tournament like this.
Of course, if one of the tasks is to make a potion, I'm screwed.
O'Bannon put it out of his mind. He wouldn't be in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He doubted he'd ever be in any serious life-threatening situation, period.
I'm a hockey player, not an auror.
He caught up on his homework, did some lifting, showered and wrote a few letters. The first was to his parents, emphasizing that life had vastly improved for him at Hogwarts. He wanted to write about Viktor Krum being here, but didn't think that would mean anything to his Muggle parents.
He did mention it in his letter to Rosa, Jared and Artimus, and made sure to tell them to let Rana, and the other Quidditch players at Salem, know about it.
They are so gonna hate me.
O'Bannon also decided to write Rosa's parents, as well as Jared's. He'd stayed over both their houses so many times he considered them like family. Along with telling them about playing hockey with some of the Gryffindors, the Tri-Wizard Tournament and actually talking to Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, he mentioned he hadn't heard of any more Death Eater activity. Their ruckus at the Quidditch World Cup seemed like a distant memory. And why not? Death Eaters reminded him of the Wizarding World's version of Hitler's SS. If the best they could do nowadays was burn some tents and levitate some people, why should anyone be worried about them?
O'Bannon gave the letters to Espo and sent him off on his long journey to America. He headed down to the common room and discovered Fred and George had returned from the hospital wing. They no longer had beards, but some patches of white stubble remained on their cheeks.
"Aw, you got rid of the beards. What were you thinking? I bet those French witches love teenage boys with the beards of eighty-year-old men." He chuckled at his joke.
Fred slapped a hand over his heart and gasped. "Oh good one, Jimmy. Took the mickey right out of me, you did."
O'Bannon furrowed his brow. "Took the mickey out of me?" He guessed that had to be Brit-speak for making fun of someone.
And here I thought I didn't have to learn the language coming to Britain.
"I wouldn't mind having a go at one of those French witches," said Lee.
"Or, for you, any witch that'd give you the time of day." George grinned at him.
"Sod off." Lee scowled at him briefly, then said. "Oy, what about the one with the silver hair? I think your brother's right. She's got to be a veela."
"Ron right?" Fred look stunned. "I guess there's a first time for everything."
"Well," O'Bannon tilted his head. "She is a super mega-hot babe, but she kinda strikes me as a snob."
"Who cares if she's a snob?" Lee shot back. "She's bloody gorgeous."
"You should try to get a picture with her, Jimmy Boy," Fred suggested. "Send it to your ex-girlfriend back in The States. She'll go barmy seeing the kind of witches you're with here."
O'Bannon bobbed his head from side-to-side. That was actually a wicked cool idea. Had he been any kind of vindictive bastard, he would have done it.
He hung with Fred, George and Lee for a few more minutes before he looked at his watch and realized it was almost time for his meeting with Professor Burbage. Luckily, she had her office on the first floor, so it didn't take him long to get there. The placard on the door resembled a Muggle street sign and read CHARITY BURBAGE: MUGGLE STUDIES PROFESSOR.
He knocked. A muffled voice behind the door said, "Enter."
He opened the door and walked inside, halting after just a few steps. With wide eyes he scanned the office. The place looked like someone had moved a yard sale indoors. Tables and desks stacked with all sorts of Muggle items crowded the office. One table displayed ballpoint pens and magic markers. Another had a baby's rattle and an old "Space Invaders" handheld video game. A shelf to his left had several board games. Some he recognized, like "Battleship" and "Axis and Allies." Others, like "Beetle Drive" and "Tinner's Trail," he'd never heard of before.
Posters plastered the walls. Most were for movies, including You Only Live Twice – one of his favorite James Bond movies – and the Bruce Lee classic Enter the Dragon. He moved toward the front of the room, still looking at the Professor's collection of Muggle items. A T-shirt at one table caught his eye. It had a blue and white roundel with gold trim and the name CHELSEA FOOTBALL CLUB. Inside it was a lion holding a staff. A stack of vinyl records had been piled beside the shirt. He stopped when he noticed the cover of the one on top. It showed a black and white rendering of the Hindenburg going down in flames.
"Whoa." He stepped over to it.
"Something caught your eye?" asked the squat, blond woman sitting behind a battered wooden desk.
"Yeah." O'Bannon pointed to the record. "That's Led Zeppelin One. 'Babe I'm Gonna Leave You,' 'Communications Breakdown.' Classics."
"Mm. I actually saw them when I was a young girl."
His jaw dropped. "You saw Zeppelin in concert?" For a second, he felt like bowing to this woman. Led Zeppelin had broken up before he was even born.
"Yes, in Birmingham. Snuck out of my house to see them. Had a devil of a time figuring out Muggle transportation, but I managed. I'd never heard anything so loud in my life. But it was wonderful. Though there was this strange odor present during the entire concert. Made me feel rather dizzy."
"Uhhh . . ." O'Bannon wondered if he should fill her in on that unsavory part of Muggle life. "Um, oh! I'm Jimmy O'Bannon. You wanted to see me?"
Professor Burbage's face lit up. "Oh yes, Mister O'Bannon. Professor Burbage, Muggle Studies. A pleasure to meet you."
"Thanks," he replied as they shook hands.
"Please, have a seat." Burbage pointed him to the chair in front of her desk. A lawn chair, of all things. He shrugged and sat down.
"So." Burbage clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "Professor Dumbledore has told me you've been teaching some of our students a Muggle sport called, um, howl-kay, I believe?"
"Hockey."
"Hockey, yes, yes. Professor Dumbledore said it's a bit like Quidditch, but on ice. Is that right?"
"Yeah, pretty much." O'Bannon ran down the basics of hockey, along with some of its history. He took note of the fascinated expression on Professor Burbage's face.
"Ah, I can see why wizards might enjoy a game like that. It sounds very fast-paced. A few years ago I arranged a demonstration of football. It didn't go so well. Most of my students were utterly bored by it."
O'Bannon just nodded. Even he found soccer boring. Not that he'd ever say that here in Britain. They'd probably run him out of the country if he did.
"But that's always been an issue for me in this class," Burbage continued. "For students who've grown up in the Wizarding World and have been exposed to Quidditch and Exploding Snap, how interesting can football or one of those board games you noticed be to them? No one flies in football. Nothing explodes in Beetle Drive. They're just . . . there."
Burbage drew a deep breath. "I keep trying to find Muggle things that I think pureblood witches and wizards will find fascinating, even enjoyable. Most importantly, I wish to show them that, other than the magic we wield, we're not so different from Muggles. There are so many things that they have to offer our world, and we will be richer for it." She lowered her eyes to her desk, distress flashing over her face. "I remember what it was like during The War."
O'Bannon didn't even ask which war she meant. For anyone Professor Burbage's age, there was only one war, the one against Lord Voldemort.
She went on. "Muggles and Muggle-borns suffered greatly at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his forces. It is my hope that giving our students here a greater understanding of Muggle culture will help prevent such tragedies in the future."
He slid toward the edge of his chair, eagerness flowing through him. "You know something, Professor? I've had thoughts like that before. I mean, Salem's pretty good when it comes to recognizing Muggle stuff. But there are still kids there who think any kind of Muggle thing is a waste of time, like our hockey league."
Burbage's jaw dropped. "Are you telling me there's a school of magic that has actually organized a Muggle sport?"
"Yeah. A couple of Muggle-borns formed the league back in the 1950s. It's still going strong."
Burbage's smile grew by the second. "Oh, if only something like that could happen here at Hogwarts. Not only would it promote a better understanding of Muggles, but it would give those not on their House Quidditch teams a chance to participate in sport. Not that I think that will ever happen here. Still, if all we can manage is a demonstration of this game of yours, at least it will be something. Would you do this for me, Mister O'Bannon?"
"Sure I will, Professor."
"Oh, smashing!" Burbage clapped her hands together. She then grabbed a leather-bound book, opened it, and scanned one of the pages. "Hm, let's see. I'd want all my classes to see this, but doing it during a regular school day would be impractical, since you'd be in class, too." She stared off to the right in thought, then grabbed a quill, dipped it into an ink bottle, and started writing. "How about I cancel regular classes, not this coming week, but the next, and instead do one large class on . . . Wednesday the Eleventh at three-thirty. Do you think you'll have enough hockey things to demonstrate and talk about for, oh, say an hour?"
"Heck, yeah." He could talk hockey for several hours, let alone just one.
"Splendid, splendid." She wrote furiously in the book, her lesson planner, O'Bannon figured. "And Professor McGonagall is the one who sends updates about your time here to your head at Salem, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'll make sure to let her know about this, um, extracurricular activity of yours. I'm sure your head will be pleased to know what sort of contribution you're making in the field of Wizarding/Muggle relations."
"Wow. Thanks, Professor."
"No, thank you, Mister O'Bannon. Oh, and ten points to Gryffindor for agreeing to this. Should your hockey demonstration go well, I'll award you an additional twenty points, and twenty for any of your friends who help you with it."
Elation swept through O'Bannon. Ten points! Just for saying yes. And if he got Fred and George and the others to help out, Gryffindor could get a ton of points. That would really help make up for all the points he cost his house his first few weeks here.
He thanked Professor Burbage again before leaving her office and strutted toward the Great Hall. Man, he wished there were more witches like her, who took a real interest in the Muggle World, enough to want to demonstrate a sport like hockey. He also thought about her comments about some wizards and witches thinking Muggles had nothing to offer this world. O'Bannon thought with all the Muggle-borns that had entered the Wizarding World over the centuries, such attitudes would have changed. Unfortunately, many Muggle-borns became so enamored by magic they completely turned their backs on their roots. He'd be the first to admit, it was wicked cool to be able to turn a rock into a toad and form a force field with his wand. And he enjoyed Quidditch as much as any wizard. But that didn't mean he thought any less of hockey, baseball, or a number of other Muggle activities. So anything he could do to give magical people a better understanding of Muggles, he was all for it. Not that he thought a pick-up game of hockey would change the world, but at least he could make some small contribution.
O'Bannon walked into the Great Hall, decorated for Halloween with hundreds of jack-o-lanterns stretching from one end to the other, and live bats fluttering around the ceiling. A pang of disappointment went through him. Back at Salem, today would be the big Halloween dance, with the students following Muggle tradition by dressing in costume. He'd miss that this year, darn it. But at least Halloween here had its own excitement. The naming of the Tri-Wizard champions.
He headed over to where Fred, George and the others sat.
"So how did things go with Professor Burbage?" Fred asked.
O'Bannon ran down how she wanted him to put on a demonstration of hockey for all her Muggle Studies students.
"And anyone who helps me with it, it's twenty points each for Gryffindor."
Excited gasps and shouts rose from them. Alicia counted on her fingers. "You, me, Fred, George, Ang, Katie, Lee, Ginny, the Creeveys." Her jaw nearly hit the floor. "Bloody hell, that's two hundred points we can earn Gryffindor."
"Count us in," George said, with everyone else nodding.
"Imagine that." Fred grinned. "We're going to be like teachers. We'll have a chance to shape the minds of young witches and wizards."
"Oh God help us all." Katie rubbed her temples.
Everyone laughed as they dug in, or "tucked in" as the Brits tended to say.
The Halloween feast was awesome, complete with roast goose and roast lamb. Despite the great food, O'Bannon noticed everyone rushing through the meals, anxious to be done and hear the announcement of the champions. The only exception was Angelina, who just nibbled at her food. She probably felt both nervous and excited, like he did before his very first hockey game at Salem.
O'Bannon managed to wolf down three roly-polies – including wild berry, his favorite - before all the food on the table vanished and the golden plates suddenly became spotless. All conversations faded to silence. Everyone looked to the teachers' table, where Headmaster Dumbledore rose to his feet.
This is it. O'Bannon started bouncing in his seat.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," announced Dumbledore, who was flanked by Madam Maxime and Karkaroff. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," he pointed to the door behind the staff table, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
Dumbledore waved his wand about him. All the candles in the room, except those in the jack-o-lanterns, were extinguished, plunging the Great Hall into semi-darkness. The blue flames gushing from the Goblet of Fire, now standing at the teachers' table, burned even brighter. O'Bannon waited for something to happen. Waited . . . waited . . .
"Any second," Lee muttered nearby.
The flames in the goblet turned red. Sparks burst from it, followed by a great tongue of flame. "Oohs" and "ahs" filled the Great Hall, along with a "wicked pissah" from him. A charred piece of parchment fluttered out of the goblet. Dumbledore caught it and held it up to his bearded face. O'Bannon held his breath.
"The champion from Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."
Applause thundered through the Great Hall as Krum stood and headed toward the teachers' table.
"No surprise there!" he heard Ron yell, and had to agree with him. The guy was one of the greatest Seekers in the world, if not the greatest.
"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff hollered loud enough for everyone to hear. "Knew you had it in you!"
When Krum exited the Great Hall, a second piece of parchment shot out of the goblet. Dumbledore grabbed it.
"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
O'Bannon's gaze immediately went to the Ravenclaw table, to the tall, athletic witch. She remained in her seat, her head hanging in disappointment. But the silver-haired witch, the one Ron thought to be a veela, shook back her hair and practically glided up to the teachers' table. He noticed a couple other Beauxbatons girls convulsing with sobs.
"This is it." Alicia grabbed hold of Angelina's shoulders. "This is it."
Katie also clamped her hands on Angelina, who sat frozen in her seat, her eyes locked on goblet.
"You got this, Ang," said Fred.
"Definitely," George added.
A third piece of parchment shot out of the goblet.
"Get ready, Ang," Lee said as both Alicia and Katie gasped.
"It's all you, Ang," O'Bannon chimed in.
Dumbledore read from the final piece of parchment. "The Hogwarts champion . . ."
O'Bannon tensed, ready to congratulate Angelina.
". . . is Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table exploded in cheers and applause. O'Bannon groaned and dropped his head. I can't believe the pretty boy got it. Stupid-ass goblet.
He looked over at Angelina, who slumped in her seat and shook her head. Alicia and Katie hugged her, while he patted her on the back, along with Fred, George and Lee.
"Tough break, Ang," Fred told her. "You would've made a great champion."
"No doubt," Lee chipped in.
"Yeah, you got hosed by that thing," O'Bannon told her.
Angelina turned around, giving them a brave smile. "Thank, guys."
"Cedric Diggory." George scowled. "Bloody unbelievable."
"His head'll swell bigger than ever," said an unsmiling Lee. "He'll be insufferable."
Fred emitted a sardonic laugh. "Bet his dad'll petition the Ministry to make this a national holiday."
"Well," Dumbledore started. "We now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"
A huge red flame rose from the goblet, cutting off Dumbledore. Another piece of parchment fluttered out of it.
"What the hell?" O'Bannon looked around at the others. "I thought we were done."
Everyone else appeared just as confused as him. Including Dumbledore, who took the parchment and stared at it. An eternity passed before Dumbledore cleared his throat and uttered a single name.
"Harry Potter."
TO BE CONTINUED