Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.
"Hedwig," said Harry to the three-headed blob of dirt. Several Shield Charms were conjured to protect the Dumbledore's Army students from the deluge of dust.
"Me first, Potter," said Lee Jordan, pushing his way through the crowd and lifting the old wooden trapdoor. He pinched his nose between his thumb and knuckle, closed his eyes and hopped in, as if jumping into a pool.
"That's nothing!" called George Weasley, yelling into the hole. He placed his hands together as if he were praying, and dove into the hole head-first.
"Stop that!" yelled Hermione into the hole, shivering. "That's so unsettling!"
"I think that's what he was shooting for," said Ron. "Go on, let's see your swan dive."
Hermione jumped into the hole, and the rest of the D.A. members followed, through the various chambers and dungeons that led to the Chess room.
"So George, who's got the most money riding on their head?" asked Ron conversationally.
"Harry, of course," said George.
"Who'd you bet on?"
"Harry, of course."
"But I'm your brother!" growled Ron. "You're supposed to support me!"
"So I'll buy you a pygmy puff or something," said George, patting Ron on the back. There was a wave of sniggering through the crowd of D.A. members. "That's right, a pygmy puff, which can only be found at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley."
"Is that why you're here?" asked Harry, grinning. "To plug the shop?"
"No, but I'd be a fool not to."
When they arrived at the giant chessboard, they found that McGonagall had restored flame to the candles and torches high above the crowd of students, teachers and guests. Eager to help, Hagrid had constructed a sturdy set of high stands for the audience, and they were filled to capacity, yet still there were several people wandering about the floor near the glowing chessboard, or at the refreshments table, where Ron was already wolfing down a croissant.
Hovering above the high stands were the translucent Hogwarts ghosts; their brilliant white glow helped illuminate the room. Peeves the Poltergeist was sitting cross-legged in mid-air by the Bloody Baron's side, looking painfully bored. Harry smiled nervously when Moaning Myrtle offered him a seductive wink.
George and Lee immediately disappeared into a corner of the room, where a booth with megaphones was being erected by four young Hufflepuff first-years. Neville nudged Harry and nodded in their direction; Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, was speaking casually with them, accompanied by an eager Percy Weasley, who was turning students away as they approached the Minister.
Similar to the dueling arena, the plains in the background of Merlin's portrait were filled with a set of stands Harry recognized from the Quidditch-themed portrait of Salvatore the Seeker. Harry supposed Salvatore must have dragged the painted stands through the portraits of Hogwarts all the way down to the venue. Albus Dumbledore, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, and Merlin himself stood in front, eyeing the four remaining combatants and whispering to each other.
It didn't take long for Harry to spot the half-giant Hagrid, with his shaggy hair and big fluffy beard, standing out over the heads of the students. Harry approached the massive Hagrid, who was downing a gallon-sized pitcher of an unknown honey-colored drink by the refreshments table. Ron stood beside him, his cheeks bulging like a frog's neck as he chewed pastries. Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight, and he offered her an apologetic smile.
"Hello," said Hagrid. "Big turn-out, eh, Harry?"
"Right," said Harry, impressed. "Thank Godric for your stands."
"It was nothin'," said Hagrid, waving a dustbin lid-sized hand.
"No, it wasn't nothing," said Harry, placing a hand at Hagrid's bicep, which was as far as he could reach. "It's one of the reasons I'm inducting you into Dumbledore's Army."
"Really? Thanks, Harry!" Hagrid crushed Harry in a one-armed hug. "I know it's a student orgernization n' all but you know how I feel 'bout Dumbledore."
"We couldn't have done it all without you," said Harry. "Besides, I need someone to help maintain the group after we graduate. Won't you?"
"Bes' ter keep it in the student body. Got enough ter get on with, after all, butI'll do me best."
"I was thinking before," said Hermione. Ron snorted, but she ignored him and continued. "Dennis has earned quite a bit of respect from the Quidditch final, hasn't he? He'll still be here next year. Perhaps he can teach?"
"Good idea," said Harry. "Dennis is all right."
"I think Dennis is perfectly apt," said Luna. "The Creevey brothers were your most devoted fans, weren't they? Dennis is the most likely to honor your practices and continue your work. I think that's important."
"Well said, Luna," said Ginny. "Perhaps we should draft a rule book, or a lesson plan?"
"Yes!" said Hermione. "Oh, why didn't I think of that before? We absolutely must."
"Maybe you were right," said Neville looking at Ginny. "Maybe Dumbledore's Army will be a part of Hogwarts for the rest of its years."
"Rule number one," said Ron through a mouthful of baked goods. "I'm number one."
There was a slew of sniggering within a ten-foot radius of the refreshments table, as Ron beamed.
"Second rule," he then said, "is that I rule."
Ginny shrugged and said, "At least he didn't say 'no girls allowed.'"
"I don't want any Slytherins in Dumbledore's Army," said Harry suddenly, his serious tone infecting the light laughter like a drop of food-coloring in water. "I'll not bend on that, either."
"Agreed," said Ron. Hermione looked unsure, but didn't protest.
"Oi! I was in Slytherin!" protested Merlin from his portrait.
"Right, that's likely..."
"When's showtime?" asked Dean, nibbling the limbs off of a squirming Chocolate Frog.
"I expect the finals will begin once the professors are in attendance," said Luna distractedly as she stared towards the portrait of Merlin, where George was conversing with the magically painted Fred.
"Oh no," said Ginny. She squirrelled through the crowd of black-robed students and teachers to drag her brother away from Merlin's portrait.
"I think everyone's here," said Ron. "Flitwick's closing the door."
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," said the amplified voice of Lee Jordan from the radio booth in the corner, "to Potterwatch's live broadcast of the Dumbledore's Army Dueling Tournament!"
"Oh, that's what they were doing back there," said Harry, craning his head and standing on his toes to look over the crowd at the Potterwatch booth.
"This is your host, River!" continued Lee. "We've left Potterwatch headquarters at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley to give you live coverage of the biggest dueling event of the year! Joining me is my partner in crime, George Weasley, also known under his Potterwatch codename, 'Dagger!'"
"Salutations!" said George.
"Also joining the broadcast," said Lee. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, the Muggle protecting, Death Eater collecting, Dementor disarming, lady charming, Minister for Magic himself; Potterwatch's own, Royal!"
"Thank you," replied Kingsley, taken aback by his introduction.
"As well as one new member of the Potterwatch team. He is the brother of broadcasters Dagger and Rapier! Please welcome Hubris!"
"It's good to be here at Hogwarts—wait, Hubris? I wanted to be called—" began Percy, speaking too close to the microphone.
"Too bad!" chirped George. Percy looked scandalized. "Look sharp there, Hubie."
"I wonder how many people are listening to this in their homes," said Hermione.
"I might even become famous," mused Harry.
"We're down to the final four here at Hogwarts," continued George. "These are the best of the best, folks. Hogwarts' finest. Of course, this is three years after the departure of yours truly, attention must be paid... so the remaining duelists are Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom. The first match shall commence momentarily, but first, a word from our Minister."
"I'd like to take this moment to announce the success of the War on Delirium," said Kingsley. "The Dementors are retreating to the plains of Scotland, as well as other desolate areas. Our specialists are mopping up the edges to ensure the complete eradication of the Dementors. If you spot an odd formation of fog, or a flying cloaked figure, please report it to the Auror Department by owl post as soon as possible, and practice your Patronus Charms!"
"I'd like to add, for the record, a bit of assurance to our listeners that the War on Delirium is a zero-casualty battle," said Percy loudly as George prodded his chest until he sat at a safe distance away from the microphone. "The success rate of a rank of well-equipped Aurors against Dementors is incredibly high. It is the young and the weak that are in danger of Dementor attack."
"Thank you, Hubris," said Lee. "As always, at Potterwatch, the hard news comes first. Which brings me to something else that's making headlines: yesterday evening on our world news segment, we received reports of some goblin turmoil in the diplomatic departments of the Ministry?"
"The Magical Law department certainly hasn't been very diplomatic as of late," said Kingsley, "but there are a few concerns that are being addressed. With the Ministry recovering from corruption, we've had some difficulty in dealing with the aftermath of a certain incident involving a break-in at Gringotts bank."
At this, the gaze of every student and teacher in the arena fell upon Harry and his friends.
"Goblins offer little leniency on these matters, even considering that we were in wartime. I can't say much more but I hope to resolve this issue as one of the first measures I take in office, after the Dementor eradication of course."
"I've got a good feeling about it," said Lee. "Some people tend to get away with highly illegal activities—ahem—now we get down to business! I'm told by a rather fit witch—Demelza, was it?—that the first match is between Gryffindors Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. Here's Dagger with the statistics."
Neville was shaking from head to toe as though covered in ants, casting the occasional nervous glance to his grandmother. Hermione approached the shivering Neville and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, before passing him and boarding the large platform. Neville relaxed slightly and followed, crawling onto the giant chessboard and standing opposite Hermione, his features cast in an odd light from the cyan glow of the checkered marble below. He repeatedly stuck his hand up his shirt to scratch his stomach.
"They've boarded the stage now," said George. "Firstly, we have Hermione Granger, the Mad-haired Muggleborn. Her wand is ten and three-quarters inches, vine wood with a dragon heartstring core. Her spell of choice is the Shield Charm. She came in second place at the preliminary round-robin behind Harry Potter, and defeated Ritchie Coote, then Seamus Finnegan, and then Ernie Macmillan to reach the semifinals. I've got one word, folks, and it's 'knowledge.'"
George smiled innocently at Hermione, who appeared to have concentrated solely on the quip about her bushy hair.
"She's got an incredible arsenal of spells and incantations stored in that head of hers," said Lee. "Capable of lashing out from every direction with a varied assault. I'm told Ernie found that out the hard way."
"It should be noted that she is currently Head Girl of Hogwarts school," added Kingsley.
"And now, her opponent, Neville Longbottom!" said George. "He wields a thirteen inch cherry wood wand with a core of unicorn hair. His spell of choice is the ol' trusty Stunner. After finishing eleventh in the preliminary round-robin and defeating Hannah Abbot in the first round, Neville was offered a pass through the second round when Dean Thomas and Terry Boot incapacitated each other and could not advance. He went on to face Ginny Weasley and employed an unusual technique whereby he threw his wand at Ginny's eye."
"Eyewitness accounts report that it slipped from his hand by accident," supplied Lee.
"Nevertheless," said George. "He emerged victorious, and now faces Hermione in the semifinals. You're all thinking it, so I'm just going to ask the question: how can he win?"
"Well," said Lee. "He's got raw magical power, but other than that, the skies are black for Mr. Longbottom."
"There's referee Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts, approaching the stage," said George, as Professor McGonagall readied her whistle. "I've always thought she was quite the fox."
The room went quiet as Hermione and Neville stood at opposite ends of the chessboard in their fighting stances, staring intimidatingly into each other's eyes. After McGonagall offered George a smirk, the whistle sounded, and Neville immediately took a large overhand swing, gripping his wand tightly. Beads of sweat had already formed on his face, and they whipped off of his forehead when he lunged forward.
"STUPEFY!" shouted Neville, sending a wave of ruby-colored light in Hermione's direction.
"Protego!" countered Hermione, holding her wand high. Neville's red blast crashed into Hermione's Shield Charm and neutralized with a heavy thud.
"Granger's blocked the first stunner, and it was a heavy one!" observed Lee. "Her Shield Charm has always been a tough nut—wait, Longbottom's on the attack again!"
"STUP—"
"Expelliarmus!" breathed Hermione quickly, with a swish of the wand.
Before Neville could release his stunner, he was hit directly on the chest by Hermione's own red flash, but it splashed off of his shoulders and vanished into the air like smoke. Hermione's jaw dropped and she hesitated for a second, stunned not by Neville's curses but by witnessing hers having no effect. Neville opened his eyes, which he had shut tightly to brace himself for the blast, and noticed his wand was still firmly in his hand. He smirked before waving it wildly.
"A direct hit, but no dice!" said George. "The spell just bounced off!"
"STUPEFY!"
Hermione barely evaded Neville's curse by diving onto the stone floor, her robes rippling in the force of the shot. Then she rose to her feet and sidestepped another blast.
"Stupefy!" Hermione shot a precise stream of red light into Neville's chest, only to watch it disintegrate into thin air upon impact.
"Hermione's stunner had no effect!" said Lee. "Neville must be using some unknown nonverbal spell!"
"Doubt it," said George. "With Neville's wandwork, everything is up front. No surprises. Something odd is going on here."
"STUPEFY!"
Though Hermione could escape Neville's shots for now, it was only a matter of time before she would slip up and lose. She racked her brain for a solution to the problem, and recalled Harry's tale of Dumbledore's defense against Adava Kedavra with the use of inanimate objects.
"STUP—oh no!" Neville fumbled his wand and quickly scrambled to retrieve it.
"Poseidum Nexus!" Hermione seized her chance without a moment's hesitation, stirring her wand in a circular motion.
"Hermione's conjured a stream of water!" said George.
A splash of water appeared in the middle of the circle Hermione was drawing in the air, and grew into a large ball that was expanding as though water were being poured into a massive spherical container. Hermione's hair was completely wild at this point, as it whipped around by the force of the spell, along with her robes. The audience had gone silent, as did the broadcasters at the Potterwatch booth.
"Neville's got his wand back!" said Lee.
Neville lifted his wand, poised to strike, but was engulfed in the massive sphere of water, rendering his incantation into a stream of bubbles that rose to the top of the watery orb. Neville flipped around, unable to speak incantations or move his wand. The audience was captivated by the sparkling water that gleamed in the light of the chessboard below.
"Neville's been trapped in Hermione's Poseidum!" said Lee. "Wait, what's this? It's turning green!"
As Neville shuffled, a cloud of leaf-green liquid appeared within the ball of water, swerving like cigarette smoke. Then, the ball began to shrink, until it was too small to contain Neville. Neville dropped to the ground, his hair dripping green liquid onto the white marble, as the sphere of water dwindled into a small drop and disappeared overhead.
"You smothered yourself with Bewitch-Me-Not pollen, didn't you?" said Hermione. Neville coughed. "That was really clever, Neville!"
"Oi!" barked Ron from the sidelines. "You're in a duel here!"
"Oh, right!" Hermione flicked her wand at Neville, who fell limp onto the floor for the duration of Professor McGonagall's ten-count. The crowd roared with applause.
"Granger wins!" yelled Lee. "Granger wins with a Poseidum spell!"
Hermione helped Neville off the platform, stopping to remedy his cough with an unspoken spell. He shuffled over to the stands and sat down, pouting grumpily. His expression lifted when Luna, Seamus, and Dean approached and sat next to him, patting him on the shoulder.
"That was excellent, Hermione!" said Harry.
"It was nothing," said Hermione, her cheeks turning pink.
Ron gripped her sides and pulled her into a kiss, then released her when Harry clapped his hand into her back. She stared at the ground, red as a tomato as the crowd cheered.
"It was brilliant," Harry affirmed. "See you in the finals," he added, grinning sidelong at Ron.
Ron returned Harry's mock arrogant smirk with one of his own, but his ears burned a telltale red and his smile soon faded. Harry cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly past him.
"Alright, witches and wizards!" called Lee. "It's time for the battle you've all been waiting for, between Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!"
"It's hero versus sidekick, folks," said George. Ron scowled. "They're closer than brothers, and now they have to fight each other!"
"Good luck, mate," said Harry, before taking his stance atop the glowing chessboard. He then nodded and assumed his battle position.
"Fair warning, Harry," Ron whispered. "I'm not stopping 'till I beat you. I'm not here to lose."
"Er, this is still just good fun, isn't it?" Harry laughed nervously. Ron did not reply.
"First, we have the Chosen One himself. He is the Boy Who Lived, the man who defeated the Dark Lord, Harry Potter!" said Lee. The crowd cheered. "His wand is eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. His spell of choice is the Disarming Charm. He placed first at the preliminary round-robin and defeated Millicent Bulstrode, then Justin Finch-Fletchley, and then Luna Lovegood to reach the semifinal round. He is known throughout the Wizarding world for his dueling prowess."
"He's definitely the favorite here," said Percy. "But I'm Ron's brother and I think he has a fighting chance."
"Ron Weasley is his opponent and best friend," said Lee. "His wand is fourteen inches, willow and unicorn hair. His spell of choice is 'Expelliarmus' as well. He placed in sixth during the preliminary round-robin and defeated Susan Bones, then Dennis Creevey, and then Draco Malfoy to reach the semifinals. He's known as Harry's best friend, and, to the foolish few who believe everything that old barker Rita Skeeter writes, the Heir of Gryffindor."
"Why does she call him that, anyway?" wondered Percy aloud.
"Anything to glamorize the story, Hubie," said George. "Poor Harry can't even have a Butterbeer without that shrew writing a full-length book about how he vanquished the evil Butterbeer monster, Beerolaius—and Ron is the same way; he swings a sword around in the forest and suddenly he was destined to wield that sword. Sad part is that's probably going to go down in history as fact... I can see it now... 'Whosoever is worthy shall wield Godric Gryffindor's sword and sharpen its blade against the timber of evil! I am he!'"
"Is that a direct quote, Dag?" said Lee over the laughter of the crowd.
"Yes. I personally heard Ron Weasley say that. You're welcome for the material, Rita."
"At least it's positive."
"Ahem," Kingsley interjected. "The match is about to start."
Harry and Ron stood completely still, awaiting McGonagall's whistle. When it sounded, the two competitors began weaving and ducking past each other's curses, flicking their wands back and forth to cast bright red blasts at each other. Their fight flowed with a fluidity borne of their extensive knowledge of each other's styles and abilities. The audience swooned with delight as they began to throw their hexes with dazzling trick-shots, including behind-the-backs and baton-style twirls.
"No hits yet," said Lee. "They appear to be feeling each other out, searching for an opening."
"Stupefy!" breathed Harry, sending a stunner so low it barely grazed the ground.
"Rictusempra!" replied Ron in mid-air as he jumped over the red wave and shot a burst of sparkling white needles that curved through the air and attacked Harry from several angles.
"Excellent five-pronged Rictusempra by Ron," observed Kingsley.
"This'll hurt, Harry," said Ron with a wicked grin as Harry shielded himself from Ron's spread-fire Tickling Hex. "Orbis Infernum!"
As Harry was distracted by the dartlike Tickling Hex, he was unable to prevent Ron from conjuring a large ball of fire. Ron had considerably less control over his conflagration than Hermione displayed with her Poseidum, as flames were lashing out from the fireball like orange tentacles, and embers cracked and flew from the blaze. Ron swung his wand at Harry, and the ball of fire flattened into a thin stream that swam through the air like a sea-snake, slithering towards the nervous-looking Boy Who Lived.
"Ron's conjured a fireball!" said Lee. "If Harry doesn't act fast, he'll be nothing but a pair of spectacles and a black spot on the chessboard!"
"Shangrisempra!" shouted Harry. He became enveloped in a dome of white light that shone so brightly he was forced to close his eyes.
Ron shielded his eyes from the intense light, unable to see his fireball dissolving into billowing puffs of hot steam as it passed through Harry's protective shield. Harry stepped out of the forcefield, holding his wand high above his head and pointing it to the ceiling. Above him, the air was rippling with heat where the steam from Ron's fireball had been captured. Harry swiped his wand forward, blowing the gust of hot air towards Ron; it made a sharp whistling noise as it flew.
"Ron's gone and given the spider the web there," said George. "Solid objects, Ron!"
"No coaching!" whined a familiar voice from the stands.
"Accio D-Three!" said Ron. The heavy marble tile that occupied the D-3 square broke off of the board and flew into Ron's outstretched arms, nearly knocking him over.
Ron held the slab of rock over his chest just in time to deflect the torrent of steam that had been shot his way. He groaned in pain as his exposed fingers that clutched the sides of the stone scorched in the heat of the blast, and he dropped the board to the floor before him, where it broke in two. Ron quickly retrieved the pieces, flinging them by hand in Harry's direction one-by-one like frisbees, as Harry slouched, reeling from the energy lost casting the Shangrisempra charm.
With a flick of Harry's wand, one of the domino-shaped halves of the stone slab exploded and crumbled onto the floor. Harry swished his wand again to dispose of the other. When the smoke cleared, Harry saw Ron dashing towards him at full speed, and sluggishly raised his wand, but was unable to muster a curse with enough stopping power to prevent Ron from reaching him. Harry then dropped his wand and raised his fists, fully expecting to be struck with the same fist that defeated Malfoy.
"Looks like this will end as a Muggle duel!" said Lee. The crowd had erupted at this point, and Hermione's eyes were as wide as saucers.
But, before Ron could reach Harry, he stepped over the sunken square of D-3, apparently having forgotten that he removed the tile, and tripped, stumbling forward into a face-plant onto the glowing stone chessboard. Harry took a deep breath and then took aim at Ron's back, firing a flash of red from the tip of his wand that left Ron lifeless until McGonagall finished counting to ten.
"Potter wins!" cried Lee. George was shaking his head with a pitying look. "Harry Potter wins!"
The audience was on their feet, chanting Harry's name and waving their fists in the air while screaming at the top of their lungs.
"Wot the hell was that?" asked Merlin from his portrait, looking at Ron. "Are you twonked, boy?"
"I had you, Potter," grumbled Ron into Harry's ear. They were both limping off the board, supporting each other.
"Almost." Harry grinned.
"There'll be a small interlude before the final match so the finalists can rest," explained Lee. "And so the battlefield can be fixed."
"Are you alright?" asked Hermione as she examined Ron's ankle. "Oh, you shouldn't have done that! Both of you!"
"I'm fine," said Ron none too convincingly; he sighed with an air of depression.
"Show me your hands," requested Hermione.
"I'm fine!" Ron sighed. "Stop worrying. I'll be fine. I'm used to it."
"You were an even match, you know," said Hermione quietly. "It was anyone's guess who would win."
"No, it wasn't."
"Ron, had you been an inch further to the left, you'd have won. Don't sulk over a silly duel, all right?"
"Just do me a favor and beat him."
"I'll try." Hermione managed a smile. "You two were displaying some really powerful magic."
"I thought I was sailing quite smoothly until I came across that bloody hole," grumbled Ron, sitting down on the bottom row of the stands, next to Neville.
"You dug your own grave," said Harry. "That's the square you used as a shield."
"Oh hell," replied Ron, swatting his forehead with his palm. "Was it? I guess I was hoisted by my own guitar."
Ron tilted his head in confusion as Harry and Dean cackled, while Hermione smiled, on the verge of laughter.
"What?" asked Ron. "What's so funny?"
"It's 'pitard,' Ron." Hermione sat beside Ron and nudged him, smirking.
"You 'ad to go and fall!" cried a distressed voice farther up in the stands. "I lost fifteen Galleons on that match!"
Ron looked up to see a grizzled-looking ginger-haired man with grinding teeth and a shaking fist.
"Why'd yeh go n' bet against Harry Potter then, Dung?" barked Hagrid, cupping his massive hands over his mouth for added volume.
"It's called home-field advantage!" replied Mundungus.
"Oh, he's jus' a fool," said Hagrid, waving his hand dismissively. "He don't got fifteen Galleons ter bet in the firs' place."
"Ladies and gentlemen," spoke the amplified voice of Lee Jordan. "I'm told by Demelza, who's just agreed to go out on a date with me, that the final match is about to start!"
"She's too young for ya, Riv," said George.
"Ready, Hermione?" said Harry. Hermione nodded.
"Harry," said Ron, "go easy on her, please."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up at that, then she crossed her arms when Harry nodded his agreement.
"You can be a real prat sometimes," said Ginny as Harry and Hermione left to approach the board. "Just because you lost—"
"You can be so bloody clueless at times," Ron retorted. "I'm only throwing a few peppers in the soup, see, giving Hermione a bit of added determination, 'cause that's when she gets scary."
"The finalists are Hermione Granger and Harry Potter," said Lee while Harry and Hermione took their positions on the giant chessboard. "You know the stats, so let's go to Dagger for the breakdown of how these two will match up."
"Harry's known for his dueling; he's simply skilled at the finer points of waving your wand at someone," said George. "On the other hand, Hermione Granger's face, when it isn't being slobbered on by my brother, can usually be found buried in a book. She's got an advantage of cleverness."
"Excellent breakdown," said Lee. "Compelling and rich."
"Thank you, River."
"You're very welcome, Dagger."
"I'm grateful to be welcomed so verily, Riv."
"Your gratitude brings me joy, Dag."
"Er—well, we're just waiting for the whistle here," said Percy as he cast George and Lee an odd look.
McGonagall's whistle blew, and the room instantly lit up with the flashes of several rapid-fire Stunners. Harry and Hermione were strafing around each other, firing waves of energy that crashed upon hitting the stone wall or marble floor. Harry was firing several shots consecutively like a machinegun while Hermione, having mastered slightly more advanced magic, was firing spread-fire bursts of three stunners at a time.
"Protego!" cried Hermione, pointing her wand to the ceiling creating a faint blue forcefield around her that deflected Harry's barrage of curses.
"There's that Shield Charm again!" said Lee.
"Well, that's her strongest muscle, isn't it?" said George. "To execute it, she has to point at the ceiling; think of how many times her hand's shot in the air during class."
The crowd burst into laughter, but Hermione was unfazed. Through the glint of her Shield Charm, she saw a spark of amber, and dropped her guard, letting the forcefield disintegrate. Across from her, Harry was creating a large, convulsing ball of fire nearly as big as his body. There were flowing rifts in the air from the intense heat, blurring Harry's face. Hermione raised her wand to stun him, but was too late, as the fireball was already rocketing in her direction.
"Harry's used an Infernum!" said Lee. "He throws a fire blast at Granger!"
"Geoseismus!" cried Hermione, flicking her wand towards the ground.
The earth began to quake as one of the slabs of stone that tiled the checkered platform flipped out of place, and, from its earthy sunken square, a large cone pillar of dirt arose to absorb Harry's fire blast. Hermione crouched against the mound of dirt, panting heavily, safe from Harry's spells.
"Hermione conjures a tower of earth and blocks the fireball!" shouted Lee, barely audible over the roar of the audience.
"Accio glasses!" shouted Hermione, swishing her wand from behind her earthy bunker. Harry's glasses flew off of his face and into her hands.
"Hermione's stolen Potter's glasses!" said Lee.
"Great tactic," observed George.
"It's a cheap tactic!" complained Percy. "You don't just take a man's spectacles!"
"Still going easy on me, are you?" shouted Hermione. Harry smirked.
"Reducto!" he said; his curse hit the mound of dirt and exploded into a brown mist.
When the smoke cleared, Harry, with his limited vision, saw a peculiar sight: several blurred yellow blips were darting in his direction. He soon felt the sharp stings of many beaks pecking at him from all angles. Harry wildly attempted to bat Hermione's canaries away with both hands, but only found that he was feeding his arms to them more efficiently.
"She's conjured canaries!" Lee observed. "And sweet Myrtle's ghost, they're vicious!"
"Leave some for me!" growled Hermione to her birds as she ran towards Harry, who had yelped in fright at the fierce tone of her voice.
Then, in an instant, all of the birds vanished, and Harry saw an overwhelming wave of red light encompass him before he lost consciousness.
"Hermione wins!" shouted Lee, just after McGonagall finished her count. "Hermione Granger is the new champion!"
The crowd was flooding down from the stands to pile around the board, jumping and cheering at the bushy-haired champion, who had collapsed onto the dirt-covered ground and was breathing heavily. Ron got to her first, and lifted her into his arms, squeezing her against his chest.
"Very well done!" shouted a revived Harry over the crowd's ear-splitting clamor.
"You too, Harry!" yelled Hermione, smiling, as Harry crushed both Hermione and Ron in a tight hug.
"That was bloody brilliant!" cheered Ron. "Leave some for me... Merlin!"
"Wot?" asked Merlin himself from his portrait. Ron ignored him, still staring at the blushing Hermione with admiration.
"Oh, I know!" said Luna. "Group hug!"
Luna threw her arms around Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and they were soon joined by Ginny, Neville, Hagrid, and the rest of Dumbledore's Army.
"Party in the common room, I say!" declared Seamus. "Er, if you'll allow it, that is, Professor," he added when McGonagall gave him a sharp look.
"Hang on, guys!" said Dennis. "All Hogwarts staff and Dumbledore's Army stay! Everyone else, out!"
Dennis commanded no response from the crowd until Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said "You heard Mister Creevey."
There was a collective sigh from the students and spectators, who reluctantly agreed to file out of the room. Dennis hopped off of the board and jogged over to the stands, where he retrieved a large antique camera from his school bag.
"It belonged to Colin," he explained. "I want a picture of all of Dumbledore's Army. It'll go up on the board with the pictures of the Order of the Phoenix and Cedric and the Dobby hat. Since this is the last time we'll be in here this year, we should make sure the board stays up. A Permanent Sticking Charm should do."
"Good idea," said Zacharias, straightening his tie.
"Here, take this," said George, handing Zacharias a light-brown wad of candy. "It'll clear your skin up."
"Ready?" said Dennis, tinkering with the old magical camera.
"No," said Professor McGonagall. She turned to Hermione and handed her a large sack that jangled with the clanging of coins. "The prize money, Miss Granger. I trust you'll spend it wisely."
"That's gonna buy a lot of old boring books," said Ron, who had insisted upon carrying Hermione off the chessboard bridal-style.
"Let's shoot this thing," said Seamus.
"All right," said Harry. "That's everyone, isn't it?"
"No, it isn't," said George. He promptly spat on the wall behind them. "That represents Marietta."
"Alright," said Dennis. He hurried to join the group. "Three... two... Zach? What's happened to your tongue?"
*click*
The camera spewed a puff of acrid black smoke, and spat out a large photograph. From left to right, it featured Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, the Patil Twins, the spit wad called Marietta, Michael Corner standing beside Cho Chang, the massive Rubeus Hagrid, the beaming George Weasley who stood over the heaving Zacharias who was on the ground nursing an engorged tongue, the equally beaming Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, the tiny Professor Flitwick who was examining Zacharias with concern, and the six leaders of Dumbledore's Army, with Hermione holding the prize money high in the air from within Ron's arms.
On the right side, there was Ernie Macmillan, who was passing off his stepping on Zacharias's tongue as an accident, Justin Finch-Fletchley who was laughing at Smith's misfortune, Dennis Creevey, Terry Boot, Lavender Brown, an anxious Seamus Finnegan, a jovial Dean Thomas, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor Slughorn whose walrus mustache was curled into a smile as wide as his belly, Professor Sprout and her warm smile, and a faintly grinning Minerva McGonagall.
Above them, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, Albus Dumbledore, Merlin, and many of Hogwarts' more active painted figures smiled happily from Merlin's portrait. Snape was present, but nowhere close to a smile. Flanking the portrait were two ghosts: Nearly Headless Nick, whose head was hanging by an inch or so of skin and flesh, and Moaning Myrtle, who was taking great joy in Zacharias Smith's suffering.
A/N: For fun, I drew the tournament bracket. That's the sort of thing I do for fun. It's at i46 dot tinypic dot com slash 30c3ukx dot jpg