Disclaimer: Anything you recognize – be it character, location, idea or line – belongs to others; I may be playing with them but I make no profit from this.
Last time on Let the Games Begin:
Leaving behind a considerably less crowded but still very noisy carnival, they emerged in a small area before a closed set of double doors, in front of which Malfoy was glowering, arms crossed and impatiently rapping a foot.
"About – bloody – time!" the blond hissed. "What in the name of Morgana's tits held you up so long?"
"Morgana's tits have names?" laughed Potter.
Malfoy looked at him strangely, then decided to ignore him.
He ignored Neville too. Acutally, Terry noticed that the Slytherin was very carefully avoiding the taller boy's eyes and that he tensed slightly whenever Neville made a move.
He also watched him size up him and Hermione, as if debating whether addressing a Ravenclaw muggleborn was more acceptable than addressing a Gryffindor muggleborn. Apparently, it was, because Malfoy turned to Terry and he even displayed some semblance of civility.
"Couldn't you work through the damn tongue-twisters more quickly, Boots? Surely you at least had enough sense to manage them?"
Terry blinked at the back-handed compliment.
"Well, excuse us if we actually needed time to..." started Potter angrily, then changed course mid-sentence: "Wait a second: you know what tongue-twisters are? Neville didn't!"
Malfoy motioned with a disgusted air to the doors behind him: "That's what told me their name," he said succinctly.
Above the doors, in big, loopy purple letters was painted A thousand tricky tongue-twisters trip thrillingly off the tongue!
They contemplated this for a brief moment.
"Whoever wrote that," commented Potter blandly, "must have been smirking the whole, bloody time."
Hermione nodded: "That, or else they were beaming so brightly and perkily you just know you should run, and fast..."
Terry snorted a guffaw, while Malfoy made a thoroughly disgusted noise that drew Potter's attention right back to him: "Oh, hey, but if you didn't know what they were before, how did you work through them so quickly?" he asked.
"Because I'm not stupid, maybe? It was apparent that they were activation strings!"
The boy glowered at the slur, but Hermione was not to be deterred from learning by a mere mocking tone and instantly fired questions at the blond: "Activation strings? What are those? How do they work? I've never heard the term. What do they have to do with tongue-twisters?"
"Don't you know anything, Granger?" sneered Malfoy. "I suppose I shouldn't expect much from a mu-muggleborn, but still!"
As usual, he loftily ignored Potter's enraged outrage on behalf of his best friend.
"Magic is often triggered by strings of syllables or sequences of sounds and it is only natural for the human mind to try and twist them into recognizable words, to help with remembering them," the Slytherin said arrogantly. "Older spellcasting as well as many Rituals have long activation sequences and quite often they are shaped as either rhymes or strings of words containing repetitive sounds. There are some so well established ones that even low-class grannies like the Weasleys will teach their bratty grandchildren..."
Neville calmly grabbed Potter's wand arm and held it tight as the other Gryffindor fumed.
"Though those, of course, are more superstitions than actual magic. You know..." Malfoy went on, apparently oblivious but with a very suspicious gloating gleam in his grey eyes. "Like 'Flee from fog to fight flu fast' and 'May-born witches might only marry Muggles'."
"I've never heard that last one," commented Neville lightly while the three muggle-raised stared at him incredulously.
"How would avoiding fog cure the flu?" asked Hermione sensibly.
"I suppose every culture has its superstitions," mused Terry. "And maybe it's just a funnier way to say you should stay warm and out of bad-weather."
He shrugged at her grimace. Well, it made sense. Somewhat. More than the may-birth nonsense!
"Well, whatever!" said Malfoy impatiently. "I think you've wasted enough of my valuable time for today. Let's get a move on!"
"Wait! Look!" exclaimed Potter, pointing to the ground off to the side.
"What, now?" burst out Malfoy, pivoting on his feet completely exasperated.
"There's something here – like a note!" replied Potter, quickly moving to pick it up.
"Harry, for the love of...! Can't you just stifle your curiosity for once?" grumbled Hermione.
"But it could be important!" retorted Potter reading it over. He blinked, then slumped. "Ah... never mind," he muttered, his cheeks reddening slightly.
"Well, now you've picked my curiosity, Harry," grinned Neville.
Rolling his eyes embarrassedly, Potter handed the piece of paper over. Terry and Neville bowed their heads together to read it aloud: "If you notice this notice, you will notice that this notice is not worth noticing."
They burst out laughing.
"Well, maybe that'll teach you something," said Hermione mock-primly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we go now? Or do you need to indulge some other Gryffindorish rituality?" asked Malfoy nastily.
"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!" scowled Terry, rather regretting that they'd caught up with the annoying Slytherin already.
Malfoy rounded on him in a fury: "I didn't get up from any side of the bed this 'morning', because there wasn't any damn bed!"
Terry backed off two steps hurriedly. "Whoa! Chill!"
Malfoy sneered at him then turned around and stalked up to the double doors, whipping his wand out: "Alohomora!" he shouted and put such force into it, that the doors blew open.
The vast room beyond made then blink at the chaotic glare of many neon-lights. Some buzzing, upbeat background music with a groove filled the air, blending pleasantly with the overabundance of reds and blacks.
The place was scattered with tables: some were oval-shaped and covered with green baize, with padded and slightly raised edges, a few were very long and rectangular, though with rounded corners, with high edges that barely let Terry see a covering of red felt with an intricate layout of cases drawn upon it. Most however were light-blue tables shaped as half-circles, with five luxurious looking chairs each along the curve.
Flashing neon-lights were shaped as attention-grabbing shocking pink signs blaring 'Poker' above the green tables, 'Craps' above the red ones and 'Blackjack' above the blue ones.
Terry felt his jaw drop.
Around the room there were lots of accessories, such as upscale brass dustbins, kitsch fuzzy dice hanging from the ceiling, garish swag lamps in stained glass with pictures of cards and dice. And a rather lonely-looking potted plant off to the left side.
What looked like slot-machines lined the walls, their noisy, fake-cheerful tunes clashing and making the room come alive, here and there making room for huge posters representing Ace Cards.
A far corner area was a bar, complete with shining black and polished steel furniture positively gleaming under the triumph of light that was the huge, wide-spread chandelier hung above it and rows of strangely shaped bottles standing at attention behind the tall counter, their numbers multiplied dizzyingly by the mirror they were lined against.
But what caught the eye the most were the mesmerizing, galvanizing wheels patterns of the sharp coloured area rugs, which seemed designed specifically to shake them all wide awake.
They barely had a moment to take the casino room in before a shout made them turn their head sharply to their right: "Finally! You're here! What took you so damn long, brats? I was almost thinking you'd never make it!"
A/N: And once again I'm taking bets on who they're meeting! (Though not from mist shadow, as it was her (or his) idea, so it really wouldn't be fair.) Of course, the setting is a rather large clue...
Luna
