NOTE TO READERS: The phrase 'A machine for turning coffee into—' isn't mine. I read it in one of Scott Westerfield's novels and couldn't resist applying it to That Loser.
That LoserChapter 36: Coffee Machine
The night of the challenge, Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindors gathered in the Common Room for a celebratory party. Well…Harry and Hermione were there for the party anyways…everyone else just happened to live there.
The room was also full of camera crews, their lenses trained on Harry as he picked his nose with what looked like the glow of scientific discovery.
"So what's the clue for the next challenge?" Hermione asked, looking nervously over her shoulder at the cameras. "And why do these people keep following you around?"
Harry's finger remained planted firmly in one nostril. "I dunno about the challenge, but I'm not concerned. Did you see how I handled that dragon? The cameras have been following me ever since. I've got mad skills! Did you see my moves?!"
Hermione coughed, "You mean the one where you tripped over your own cape, the one where the dragon bit off half of your earlobe, or the one where you cried like a little girl in front of thousands of people?"
"All of them! Wasn't I great?" Harry's nostril excavation hit pay dirt. "Aha! I've got you now!" He carefully wiped a moist finger on a handy cameraman's shirt.
Hermione sighed, "I was thinking of a different word…but great works too."
A Styrofoam cup was thrust into Harry's hand by one of the cameramen. "And we start in five, four, three, two, one. You're on kid."
Harry smiled hugely. "And it's all thanks to my wonderful sponsors, Mister Coffee's Café! The best cup 'o java your retirement fund can buy!®" He broke out into song.
Oh!I just a Mister Coffee machine
And I don't work for nobody but you!Harry took a sip out of a Styrofoam cup in his hand that bore the label Mister Coffee Mug (Mister Mouth goes here). He gagged. "Ttttthhhhhhhssss 's gurd 'tuff, thhiis coffeeeeee." Harry scraped his tongue thoughtfully with a napkin while the camera crews packed up and left. "Tastes like rubber."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, "I personally am morally against coffee."
"How can you be morally against coffee? Coffee has the ethical decision-making ability of a soggy potato. Or Ron. About the same, really."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, coffee is the tool that the Man uses to keep us down!"
Harry frowned in confusion. "The Man?"
Hermione's eyes took on a fevered glaze. "The big corporations! The common cubicle man today is a machine for turning well-placed coffee breaks into extra hours of overtime and profits for the company. It's a conspiracy!"
Harry grinned. "Whereas the common cubicle man is a machine for turning coffee into productivity, I am a machine for turning coffee into mind bendingly awesome moves!"
"And pants wetting," muttered Hermione.
"Anyways, here's the clue for the next challenge." Harry held an oblong golden egg above his head and shouted to the crowded Common Room. "WHO WANTS ME TO OPEN IT?!"
"No one Potter, sit down."
Harry laughed, "Oh, okay. Thanks, I was great, wasn't I?" He carefully opened the egg. Immediately a horrible screeching filled the room.
"POTTER!"
"Turn it off!"
Harry quickly wrenched the egg shut. "What could it mean?"
"The next challenge is who can make the most annoying sound."
"FIRE!"
"Take your pills, Johnson."
"Chinese water torture!"
"Rope climbing!"
"Spelunking!"
"Invasive heart surgery!"
"Fencing!"
"Conga line!"
"Mop races!"
Everyone turned to stare at Harry.
"Well…a guy can dream, can't he?"
"Or maybe you have to dive with mermaids!" piped up one scrawny first year. He immediately shrank back at the barrage of jeers.
"Yeah, whatever mermaid boy!"
"Let's go flush him!"
As the first year was carried off kicking and screaming towards the most unpleasant bathroom experience of his life, Harry laughed.
"Never fear, good people. I'm a machine for turning coffee into great ideas! Hmmm…I bet its bomb disarming…"
Someone behind Harry cleared their throat.
Harry turned around to see Ron standing there, looking sheepish. "Hey mate."
"Oh, so now I'm your mate again, now am I?!"
Ron shrugged, "I'm sorry about the whole…fight thing. You got my apology, right?"
Harry frowned, a function he preformed quite often, as he tended to live in a constant state of confusion. "What apology?"
"You know, I told you that Seamus said that Parvati heard that Lavender and Cho thought that they might have overheard Neville saying that Ginny and the fan club said that they both swear their undying love for you and that they saw Crabbe and Goyle beating up on this first year named Rutherford, who Patti says until recently was an umbrella, who swears that he heard Susan Bones say that Hagrid was looking for you. See, Hagrid wasn't looking for you at all! It was a clever ruse which I inventeded…ed to apologize to you! Actually Hagrid was going into the woods with Madame Maxime, and I thought he might take her to see the dragons. If not, at least you'd save Hagrid from taking another date to the peat bogs to admire the beauty of thestrals and oddly colored gas bubbles," said Ron, a machine for turning coffee into long-winded explanations.
Harry took a sip of his coffee, then sprayed it at Hermione in shocked disbelief. "Really?"
Ron nodded shyly. "Really."
Harry, who had just taken another sip, spit at Hermione, showering her with steaming liquid.
"Hey! Loserboy, cut it out."
"That's Mopboy to you, citizen!"
Hermione sighed, wiping the sheen of coffee off of her forehead. "What's the difference?"
Ron smiled, "Wow, I've missed you guys! The spitting, the insults…this is where I belong! I would have come back sooner, you know, I wasn't really mad at you for the last couple weeks. I just wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me."
Hermione ducked behind a sofa as Harry, poised to spit, gasped and spit a projectile of boiling fluid that, bystanders would later say, completely switched direction and hit Hermione in the face.
"You mean that last week when you ran my mop through Hagrid's wood chipper, that you weren't really mad?"
"Nope…I just like wood chippers."
"And the time that you added extra porcupine quills into my caldron in Potions when I wasn't looking and it exploded, that you weren't mad?"
Ron shook his head. "Nope…I just like explosions."
"And the bit with the hot water?"
Ron actually blushed. "Nope…I just like doing extra laundry."
Harry's chin wobbled. "So…so are you still mad at me?"
Ron's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. "Nope…I just want to be your best friend again."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's completely mental."
Ron sniffed. "Well…so are you!"
Harry was about to protest, then nodded, laughing. 'Yeah, I am, aren't I?!"
Ron nodded knowingly. "Sure are. Loony as Moony on a bad hair day."
"This calls for a manly hug!" Harry announced.
Quickly, after making sure no one would see them, Harry and Ron clapped their arms around each other, then shied apart, coughing nervously. In case you haven't noticed, the average man-hug, although both rare and totally awkward, is fascinating to watch. Both participants are trying to touch as little of each other as possible, and there is a lot of nervous coughing. Somewhere, in a far corner of the room, a camera snapped a quick shot.
"Yeah…" said Ron gruffly, "that was…uh…manly."
Harry, a machine for turning coffee into manly hugs, nodded.
Hermione cautiously emerged from behind the sofa, wringing the coffee out of her shirt. "Oh, I'm so glad you guys are friends again."
Harry spit.
Hermione was ready this time and dodged, managing to jump out of the way with Matrix-like agility as the mouthful of special Brazilian blend soared past her ear.
"Aha!" Hermione leapt to her feet.
Unfortunately for her, coffee spitting is one of those few comedic puns, like a single wagon wheel rolling across the road after a crash, that rarely follows the laws of physics.
The coffee rebounded off of a terrified Neville and hit her in the back of the head.
Harry smiled. "What can I say? I'm a machine for turning coffee into defiance of the laws of nature! Excuse us now Hermione, I've got my best friend back now, so you're back to being second best friend. Enjoy the coffee!"
Hermione dripped sarcasm and recycled coffee in his general direction.
The next day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to Hogsmeade on the instruction of a frantic letter from Sirius.
They waited expectantly in front of the cave in which Sirius had told them to meet him.
"Psst!"
"I've already taken care of that, but thanks for your concern," Harry stated amiably.
"No you idiot, PSSSTT! As in, it is I, Sirius, your animagus godfather, trying to get your attention without attracting the attention of anyone else…good morning ma'am, sorry for to disturb you, nice day, isn't it? Happy Shopping!"
A very confused woman screamed at the voice coming out of nowhere behind a group of nerdy looking kids. Although the sight of the tall one's disturbing facial mold usually would have been enough, the disembodied voices speaking rather pleasantly about the weather drove her over the edge.
"See?" hissed Sirius, emerging from the cave, "I told you!"
"Fine. Sorry Sirius. Now, why did you want to meet us again?" Harry asked, "Do you have any more information for us?"
Sirius nodded. "Uh…sure. I wanted to talk to you about writing to me. Signing the letters, TO SIRIUS BLACK, ESCAPED MASS MURDERER, IF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS MAN, PLEASE CALL THE OPRAH HOTLINE NUMBER PROVIDED BELOW, probably isn't the best idea."
Harry frowned, "Why?"
Sirius glared, "Because Oprah showed up on my doorstep demanding justice!" His voice turned into a whine, "You know I can't resist Oprah!"
"Sorry Sirius."
"Instead, I would like you to call me by something else. An alias, if you will. Something relating to my animagus form, but still isn't too obvious."
"Snuffles," suggested Hermione.
Sirius snorted. "No way, it's got to be something manly, tough! What about Spike…or Fido…Killer…Bruiser?"
"Wingnut!" suggested Ron.
Sirius rolled his eyes. "Nice to have you back, Ron."
Hermione glared. "Would you rather we call you Mipsy, because that was your other option."
Sirius frowned.
"Mister Puddles?"
Sirius paled. "Snuffles…Snuffles is good."
She smiled. "Excellent."
Sirius suddenly brightened. "So…did you bring the chicken?"
Harry nodded, holding up a drumstick. "Yes…but what does chicken have to do with telling me about the new dangers I'll face in the tournament?"
Sirius sighed. "Fine…Karkaroff's a Death Eater, Barty Crouch sentenced his own son to Azkaban, Dumbledore's mental, Madame Maxime's quite giant, Krum's half duck, Hagrid's the Missing Link, Draco is a pansy, and Lavender Brown is a really idiotic name…now gimme chicken!"
Harry frowned, "But you've already told me all of that, and half of it I already knew. I mean come on; we all knew the truth about Hagrid."
"It's the lack of an o-ppos-a-ble thumb." Ron nodded sagely.
Hermione gasped. "So that's why Hagrid says 'ugga ugga' all the time!"
Harry nodded. "That's caveman for 'shrimp boat shrimp boat'."
Hermione eyed him suspiciously.
"I happen to speak fluent caveman."
Sirius tapped his foot expectantly.
Harry sighed, waving the chicken leg. "Sirius, we already know all of that. Do you have anything new?"
"Give me that chicken or the hand comes off."
El Lupo rode by on his trusty horse Mudslide. "Freedom! Justice! Apple pie! And the America…British way! Ole!"
"To the Queen!" Teacups crashed.
"NO LITTERING!" screamed an irritable man wearing a Save Our Environment badge, glaring at Lupin's flashy costume and accurately named horse, Mudslide. "Spaniards! They think they can dump trash anywhere. Next time you can pick up after your own horse!"
Sirius snorted, "Go hug a tree or something."
"Wow," noted Harry, observing the steaming trash bag, "that horse is a machine for turning coffee into—"
"Ole!" El Lupo posed heroically.
"Hello Professor Lupin," chimed Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
Lupin squinted in concentration behind the mask. "British way…ole…hey, I made a rhyme!"
Hermione whispered quietly in Harry's ear as Lupin started to turn cartwheels. "I'll hold him down; you grab the chocolate and run."
Swish.
Thunk.
"Haha! Take that Pooter!"
Swish.
Thunk.
"Mwahaha! I have you now!"
Swish.
Thunk.
"Um, excuse me, Lord Voldemort?"
"You cannot escape me, my nemesis!" chortled Voldemort as his last dart struck a dartboard on which a photograph of Harry had been tacked.
The hooded death eater at the door came into the room further. "If you're busy…?"
Voldemort nodded, gleefully plucking a sharpened projectile out of Harry's eye. "Actually I am a bit busy." He took the Death Eater by the shoulder.
The Death Eater winced. "Uh, your dark lordship, this isn't going to turn into one of your manly hugs again, is it?"
Voldemort chuckled. "No, no. You see Robert…"
The Death Eater known as Robert groaned, "I told you, don't call me Robert! Call me something evil, like Fangsmith or Moldered or something! Robert sounds like a male nurse."
"Actually I've always been partial to the name Robert. If I could ever find a woman who didn't mind marrying an evil dark lord that is currently in fetus form, and I had a son, I would name him Robert. Or Sue. Or TouchmeandI'llripoutyourentrails. That was my grandfather's name, you know."
"But wasn't your grandfather's name Marvol…"
"Not yet, Robert! That doesn't come till later! You'll blow the whole operation!"
"Sorry, geez."
Voldemort shrugged. "Ah well, one of the three names anyways. It's so tough to choose, you know."
"Why Sue?" Robert asked, afraid of the answer.
Voldemort nodded. "To make him tough. You see, having a name that brings to mind small girls with pigtails or male nurses—"
"—hey!—"
"—tend to toughen a boy up quick. If you're a boy named Sue, you'd better be tough, or you'll get such a beating from the other kiddies. Got it bad enough from literal minded kids in elementary school, let me tell you. Just because my last name's Riddle doesn't mean I'm a bloody sphinx! I only know three riddles, and the answer to all of 'em's gravy."
Robert coughed. "Did you, uh, have a woman in mind sir?"
Voldemort sighed. "No, no, I haven't found that special someone yet. I thought I had…long ago…but it wasn't meant to be." Voldemort sniffled. "Would you hold me?"
"I knew this was going to turn into a manly hug!"
Voldemort sighed, "Oh, fine. Anyways, is there any news from our inside man about Pooter?"
Robert cringed, "I don't know if you're aware of this, sir, but it's actually Potter."
"He'd LIKE you to think that, wouldn't he?"
Robert blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Oh yes Robert, Pooter is a crafty one. The one other brilliant genius like myself, the only one worthy to fight me!" Voldemort scowled at the dartboard. "My nemesis! I'LL GET YOU THIS TIME POOTER! YOUR GENIUS SHALL NOT BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU THIS TIME!"
Dartboard Harry grinned dimwittedly, his finger firmly inserted in his left nostril.
Robert stared. "Uh…right."
Voldemort rolled the dart between two shriveled fingers, its needle sharp edge glinting in the firelight…
"I'll get you Pooter…soon…"
"Harry, Harry wake up!"
"TOUCHMEANDI'LLRIPOUTYOURENTRAILS!"
Ron sniffed, "Sorry I asked."
Harry blinked, trying to fight off the cobwebs of what had been a very disturbing dream. Though now, as he thought about it, its contents seemed to fade back into the sleepy mist.
Ron was hovering over Harry, his mold glowing with curiosity. "What were you dreaming about? You were yelling up a storm about gravy and manly hugs. And who's Robert? SOMEONE I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT?!"
Harry sighed. "I dunno, I can't really remember much about it. Except that it was evil. Pure evil." Harry oozed with mystery and ominous vibes.
Ron blinked. "Okay, isn't it a little early to go into angsty hero mode? In the manifesto, it explicitly states…"
"…No melodrama before breakfast, I know, I know. Sorry Ron." Harry conceded.
Ron sniffed, "Well, all right then, let's get some breakfast. You'll need it for your second challenge."
"Second challenge?! But I just got the egg yesterday!"
Ron grinned, "It's not that challenge! That's in a month. These in-between challenges are a tradition, my dad says. But don't worry; they're just an excuse to get someone else to do the chores around the host school. Last time they had the tournament they did the Dust Wars, Mopping Races, Prune-the-Hedges, and Give Johnson His Frog Pills. Easy stuff! Don't worry about it, mate."
Harry was far from worrying, as he had only heard one word from the whole conversation. "MOPS?! I'll CREAM them all!"
Later that day, in The Arena…
"Today's event," wheezed Dumbledore, "will be a trying race. The most brutal you will as of yet encountered in your short, pathetic lives. It is a test of skill and fortitude, or bravery and intelligence, of the strength of your fist and the strength of your stomach. For this, my dear Champions, is the race to define them all."
"ON YOUR MARKS, GET SET, GOOOOOOOO!!!"
Harry walked as quickly as possible, trying to balance the egg on the plastic spoon they had given him. All he had to do was make it around the orange pylon without dropping it, but, what's this? Cedric was gaining on him! Harry knew he would have to act quickly to secure his win.
"It's shaping up to be a great race folks! Potter's in the lead by a hair, but Diggory is catching up, followed closely by Delacour…although it seems that Krum's duck-footed waddle just isn't fast enough to keep up…or maybe he's just been distracted by the shinny spoon, it's hard to tell, no he's still moving! Oh no, Potter's tried to jinx Diggory, but missed and the projectile of steaming coffee he conjured that was meant for Diggory and flown off into the stands! We're tracking it now and, OH! It appears to be chasing after a bushy haired fro girl with a vengeance. Will it catch her? RUN FORREST, RUN!"
From somewhere up in the stands, Harry heard a splash and a faint sizzle.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER, I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!"
"Now Diggory is firing back! A full porcelain tea set that seems to be singing and whistling the time just flew past Potter's ear! Diggory and Potter are neck in neck now, but it looks as if Potter's egg is wobbling. He'll have to slow down if he wants to win this race!"
Harry and Cedric cleared the last pylon and ran back along the home stretch. Harry huffed for breath.
"Ha!" said Cedric "Breathe heavily while you can, Potter! 'Cause you're going DOWN!"
"No, it is YOU that is going to go down, Cedric! Your jungle ways shall not avail you!" Harry shouted back at him. They were almost to the finish line…and…and…AND…
"IT IS OVER FOLKS! SPEEDING UP OUT OF NOWHERE, DELACOUR MAKES A SURPRISE VICTORY! THE FINAL SCORE IS FLEUR "NOT A FAIRY PRINCESS" DELACOUR, THEN A TIE BETWEEN "CRAZY LEGS" POTTER AND "RED ROCKET" DIGGORY FOR SECOND, AND IN FOURTH AND STILL WADDLING, "MURK" KRUM ROUNDS THE LAST BEND. OH, WE SEEM TO HAVE A FAN OF KRUM HERE THAT WOULD LIKE TO SAY A FEW ENCOURAGING WORDS.
MURK, MY LOVE, I DO NOT CARE IF YOU DO WALK LIKE A DUCK AND THAT I CAN'T UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING THING YOU SAY, AND AFTER ALL EVERYONE GETS DESTRACTED BY SHINY THINGS ONCE IN A WHILE! I STILL LOVE YOU! MURK AND RON FOREVER!
GIVE ME THAT!
I LOVE YOU MURK!
GIVE ME THE MICROPHONE!
I CLAIM MY RIGHT TO THE FIRST AMMENDMENT!
YOU…UH…WANT TO CARRY A FIREARM?
OH…"
Through the next few weeks, the Champions were subjected to many such odd little challenges. The results were as follows:
Modeling Winner: Cedric…the crowd went nuts over the Tarzan outfit. Runner up: Harry…mostly on pity
Juggling Winner: no one…none of them could juggle which not only proved that Fleur is not only not a fairy princess, but also not a juggler. However Moody is still in question…
Watermelon seed spitting Winner: Harry…after all the practice on Hermione…
Paper mache volcano building Winner: Krum…he likes to blow things up.
Graffiti Art Winner: Fleur…who released her inner hoodlum…
Miniature Golf (courtesy of Dumbledore's Secret Golf Course) Winner: Well, Harry would have won if they hadn't found his weed and disqualified him…
The next day at breakfast, Harry could not have felt better.
"Yo, Potter, how's it going dude?"
"Hey Potter, great job on that last challenge. You even make tripping over your own cape look cool…cool-ish, anyways…"
"POTTER MOPS UP THE COMPETITION!"
"VOTE FOR POTTER!"
"POTTER MAKE LOSER LOOK GOOOOOOOD!"
Harry basked in the warmth of shallow hero worship that depended on his next win. Yes…life was—
"Harry could you pass the potatoes?" said Hermione.
Grudgingly, Harry returned to eating his breakfast. "Sure. After all," he picked up a cup of Barstuck's coffee and cameras appeared, "I'm A Machine For Turning Barstuck's Coffee Into Victory!®"
Harry took a sip.
Hermione instinctively ducked.
As Harry was about to swallow another mouthful of the vile stuff, he glimpsed Cho sitting at one of the other tables. A friend saw him staring and pointed. Cho turned around and smiled at him.
Harry spit the coffee, some cereal, a whole potato, a pancake he ate yesterday, Colin Creevy, and his own spleen. Well…in theory anyways.
Unfortunately for Hermione, what he did spit out was Barstuck's Premium Blend Moroccan Coffee only An Arm And A Leg per Cup!®
"Darn it Harry!" screamed Hermione as the coffee hit.
Cho and her friends giggled, not at Harry's embarrassing faux pas, but at Hermione the nerd girl's misfortune. Hey, if you don't think that high school age girls can be heartless, you need a reality check.
Ron smiled pleasantly throughout the whole affair, trying to see his forehead. Occasionally he mumbled to himself. "Hmm…I think I need a haircut…"
Hermione, furious and steaming slightly, glared. "Ronald, DO something!"
Ron frowned, "Well, I do have a pair of scissors…"
"HUZZAH!" A middle-aged blonde woman appeared from out of nowhere.
Ron's eyes widened. "No, not more romantic tension!"
The woman glared.
Ron gulped. "Uh, I'll help you Hermione…my dear…" He actually gagged.
Hermione took his proffered hand and pulled herself back into a sitting position. "Thank you Ronald my uh…uh…"
"Dove, passion, bliss?" suggested the woman.
Hermione grimaced. "My…uh…moldly little friend. Hey wait, when was the last time you had a haircut? You're looking a little…"
"Homeless?" Suggested Harry.
"Actually, I was thinking girlish," said Hermione.
Ron mumbled something about haircuts not growing on trees.
Harry gasped. "They don't?! So the whole thing about the Haircut Tree Fairy not visiting naughty children was a lie to avoid paying for haircuts? CURSE YOU DURSLEYS!!!"
Hermione gasped. "Oh, sorry Ron , I didn't realize it was a money issue."
"I did," said Harry.
"Yeah, well…" mumbled Ron. "Here Hermione, wipe your coffee covered face with this convenient newspaper."
Hermione took the paper. "Thanks Ronal…wait. I don't BELIEVE it! Look at this!" She shook the front page in front of Ron's nose.
Ron gasped, "Wow, Hermione, that is most definitely a hand. Yeah…thanks for showing me that…"
"Not my hand, the newspaper you…"
"HUZZAH!"
"…lovable idiot. The headline!"
El LUPO SIGHTED ONCE AGAIN IN HOGSMEADE NEAR HOGWARTS (Page 2)
SECRET LOVE LIVE OF CHAMPION HARRY POTTER (Page 1)
Ron shrugged, "So, another El Lupo sighting? Professor Lupin must really be getting around."
"The other headline."
Since our last interview I, Rita Skeeter, have gotten the scoop on a new development in fourth Triwizard Champion Harry Potter's love life! While some people would hesitate to be romantically involved with a mentally disturbed seven year old with a Messiah complex, Hermione Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have no problem. She was quoted as saying: "Yes…I do…love...HARRY!…even though he is a…small…girl…Our…love…is…pure…!" and "I've always cared."
The article was accompanied by a color photo of Hermione embracing Harry with a look of pure disgust on her face. The two figures in the picture then jumped apart, then together again.
Hermione glowered. "I so never said that."
Harry blushed, "Well, Hermione, as much as this flatters me, I'd just like to be friends…"
"Shut up Loserboy."
"HUZZ…oh wait, never mind. You can insult him. Take that producers! HA!"
Potter has been a busy little girl. He was also sighted hugging longtime friend Ronald Wazilby! Talk about a machine for turning coffee into great news!
Hermione looked puzzled. "How does she do it? She saw Professor Lupin in Hogsmeade, and saw me hug you and Ron…hugging you..."
"It was a manly hug!" shouted Harry a little too loudly.
Ron pouted. "She hugged you? I wish I was born as a tragic hero destined to be talented, famous, and hugged by random adoring females!"
Harry smiled. "Oh Ron, you'll always be tragic to me!"
Ron frowned. "You mean a tragic hero right?"
"Nope...just tragic. I missed you old buddy. Who wants a hug?!"
While Harry chased Ron around the Great Hall, Hermione was deep in thought.
"How could she have known? How…?"
Oddly