Fourth Year started with exciting news, at least for the girls. There was going to be a Triwizard Tournament, which meant an elegant ball would happen during the Yule season. On the other hand, the boys were doubly bummed: for one, only students of age could aspire to be the Hogwarts Champion. And two, well there will be a ball, which meant dancing lessons and, worse of all, having to ask someone to be their partner.
One morning, Bruce entered the great hall for breakfast when someone pulled him into a noisy group.
"We're in. A hundred galleons, each," said Tony, pushing Bruce forward.
"What is going on?" the kid asked, confused.
"We're entering a wager, Banner. We'll figure a way through the stupid age line."
"The what? Wait, you don't mean?"
"I mean to enter the Tournament. We will find a way to cross Dumbledore's age line and drop our names in the Goblet of Fire. Either of us would be smarter and better than any dumb seventh year. Come on; we will be legends!"
"I don't want to be a legend," Bruce whined.
"Too late, Banner," answered Loki. If you don't try to cross the line, you owe every person here a hundred galleons. The wager is charmed. And it has your name on it," he said, smirking and showing a piece of parchment with Bruce's name on it, written with Gringotts' contract ink, in Tony's handwriting.
"I hate you," Bruce said, looking at Tony.
"You will love me tomorrow after we cross the line."
That night the two Ravenclaw boys stayed late at the library, trying to find a solution.
"There must be a spell," said Tony. "Invisibility? There are tales of invisibility cloaks but no current record of who could have one."
"Invisibility would not do it," countered Bruce. "The line doesn't see, it feels."
"Then some way to trailblaze through it. Some apparatus."
"I don't think so; I bet it requires the body to have a molecular composition similar to that of a person of age. Maybe it can be achieved with a potion. Like polyjuice, but unique to yourself, not a copy of another person."
"I'm using an apparatus," Tony insisted, closing the books. "Let's go to bed."
"You go," said Bruce, an idea tickling his mind.
The next day the hall where the Goblet of Fire was held was abuzz. The older students threw their names in, excited, receiving cheers and applause. The girls were clustered in groups, whispering about the prospective champions and possible dates for the ball. Wanda was conspiring with a third-year Ravenclaw girl, who was flustered and holding to her books for dear life.
"Don't worry, Jane. I'll introduce you to him. He's like my big brother. I'm sure he will like you. I mean, you should be in our Year, if it wasn't because you were born in September instead of August."
"I don't know," Jane Foster Giggled. He's so big and beautiful. He can have any girl in your Year. Or even a fifth year," she sighed.
At that moment, the object of their conversation made an entrance. More like a battering ram, he ran from the door, trying to cross the line with a loud yell. He bounced back, propelled against a wall by the repelling charm of the age line.
"Are you sure you want to meet him? He's a moron," Wanda chuckled, but Jane was not next to her anymore.
"Oh my gosh, Thor, are you alright?" Jane had dropped her book load and was now kneeling next to the blonde boy.
He fluttered his eyes open and smiled wide.
"Well, hello there. And who may you be, pretty girl?"
Jane giggled uncontrollably, unable to answer. Wanda came to the rescue.
"This is my friend Jane Foster. Jane, this is Thor, my self-appointed big brother."
"Charmed," answered Thor, taking Jane's hand and kissing it. The girl continued to giggle but stood up with him.
"I guess I'll leave you to it, said Wanda, walking away backward. She didn't notice someone behind and bumped into him. She turned too fast and fell off balance backward, but the boy held her in his arms.
"Hey, Wanda. Lovely to see you here.
Wanda, who had thrown her arms around the boy for balance, went red in the cheeks.
"Clint! Hi!"
He lifted her to her feet, and they looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, but then the ground shook. They were thrown to opposite sides of the room. One of the suits of armor from the hallway was walking into the hall, making everyone scream and run for cover. The heavy thing clunked straight to the Goblet and stepped through the line. Yes! Said a voice inside it, and it was about to deposit a piece of parchment into the flames when it flew to the back of the room, hitting a wall and crashing into pieces.
"Ouch!" yelled Tony, forcefully freed from the armor.
"Oh Merlin, are you ok," the fifth-year perfect from his house ran to him. What do you think you are doing, Stark?"
"Oh, hey Potts," he said, rubbing his head. "Help me out?" he said, "help me pick up before McGonagall takes points from our house?"
Virginia Potts looked like she wanted to Avada him but cast a quick spell to clean the mess.
"You owe me big time, you git."
"Come to the ball with me."
"What?" she asked blushing.
"Come to the ball with me? You know you wear a pretty dress, I get you a corsage, we dance the night away…"
She shook her head. It was flattering how straight forward he was.
"Alright then, Tony," she said, emphasizing his given name.
"Alright, Virginia," he answered, standing up and offering his hand to her.
She wiggled her nose in disagreement.
"Call me Pepper." She interlaced her fingers with his and asked: "how did you do it, manage to move that heavy thing?"
"Piertotum Locomotor," Tony answered, shrugging.
"Wow," was all Pepper could say, impressed.
At that moment, Bruce stood next to them, giving a nod.
"Stark, Potts," then he looked at the Goblet, took a vial from his pocket, and drank the content. "Here goes nothing."
He started walking toward the line, while suddenly, his body grew taller and broader. His appearance was that of a twenty-year-old. He crossed the line and looked around, amazed by his triumph. But then he started contorting, and his body grew bigger and bigger, his skin turning green. He was incapable of speaking anymore, only grunting and growling. Everybody started screaming and running from the hall. Everyone, except one girl. She walked toward him, unafraid of his animal sounds.
"Hey, big guy. The sun is getting real low. Shall we find a place to rest?" Natasha said, slowly offering a hand.
Bruce grunted but let her take his hand, or at least one finger. He was so big now it was all she could hold. Natasha walked him to the hospital wing, gesturing to Madam Pomfrey to stay quiet. The matron managed not to faint, and they sat him on the floor since he was too big for a bed.
"It was a potion, said the girl. I'm not sure what; I think he invented it."
"Oh, these clever boys always end up being more trouble than most.
Madam Pomfrey used a complicated mix of spells and potions to bring him back to normal slowly. Natasha stayed with him all the time, sitting next to him when he was finally small enough for a bed.
"Thank you. That was such a stupid idea," Bruce mumbled, ashamed.
Natasha ran her fingers through his messy hair.
"It went a little awry, but I think it was brilliant," she offered.
He smiled.
"Natasha I, I, I was, you know, wondering, if maybe, you know, if you want, well, maybe you and I,"
"I would love to go to the ball with you," she said chuckling.
"Really?" he asked, eyes big and hopeful.
She nodded and leaned in to touch his lips with hers.
"Wow," he sighed, smiling.