Harry Potter
And the
Doomspell Tournament

A/N: I've realized I've had too many cameo appearances in my writing and it is losing class and becoming... bad. Yes, it's one of those things that amateur authors are allowed to enjoy and get away with, but still. For the sake of decent authors everywhere I will continue with my best work only, except for one little surprise for Neville fans everywhere (does he even have any?)

The results are in... By the time I wrote this chapter, you told me in your reviews that Harry should (1) Trust Marshall Oak and (4) Try to keep his knowledge of the Doomspell Tournament a secret from Dumbledore for now.

But if your one or both of your decisions didn't win, don't worry. Just review again - remember that the world's fate now rests in your hands. And why?

To recap our last chapter, Hermione explained that the Error curse was a reason to be afraid. The caster of the curse would be able to open up a tear in space - a black hole - which would undoubtedly be the end of the world.

And now it's fate rest's in Harry's hands, and his in yours.

Chapter 3
A Spark of Love,
An Ounce of Justice

Harry awoke the next morning to a gust of cool air and a bright ray of sunshine. He opened his eyes, put on his glasses, and saw that someone had left one of the windows open. He got up and out of bed to close it, and saw that everyone else was still there and asleep. Everyone except Neville.

"Morning, Neville." Harry said.

"Good m-m-morning." Neville yawned in reply.

"What are you doing up, I mean just sitting there?" Harry shut the window.

"Oh, well... I forgot to shut the window, and I just - DAHH!" He jumped with a quick shout.

"What's wrong?"

"I forgot something else. I don't know what, though."

"Forgot? Then what was that shout for?"

"I... I... I had surgery this summer."

"Oh. Okay... what made you jump."

Neville sighed. "What happened is, I had a special charm cast on my brain. Whenever I forget something, I get a shock to the head. Just a little one, for a reminder. They say I'll get used to it soon enough, though.

"Oh, wow. That must be awful. I'm sorry."

"Gran says it's for the best. Oh, well." He got up and left the room. Harry decided to follow.

Breakfast was, as usual, nothing short of grand. Harry was joined soon enough by Ron, Hermione, and Marshall Oak, who had decided to talk to them about the proposition of teaching them some of his custom curses.

"Yeah, I've given it some thought, and I think I could use your help." Harry told him.

"Great." Marshall responded through a mouth of toast and marmalade.

"Just don't tell Dumbledore, though. I don't think we should tell him yet about what I know about the Doomspell Tournament. Harry glanced over at the teacher's table to see that Dumbledore showed no signs of him having said this.

"I've got one for you that will blow up everything in a twenty foot radius, but only if it's a threat to you. So you don't have to worry about friends.

"Where do you get the time to work on-" Ron began but was cut short by someone's shouts from the Slytherin Table.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" A voice shouted, and then there was a flash of green light and a loud thump. Several people screamed.

Dumbledore immediately leapt out of his seat and tore across the room to the Slytherin table. His shocked expression immediately turned to a mixture of annoyance and just a hint of humor.

"You cast an excellent farce, young man, but you're a terrible actor." Harry looked over and saw Chuck lying on the ground, feigning death. He stood up, mumbling something, and Dumbledore shook his head and turned back to the teachers table.

"What did he do?" Ron asked.

"He cast the farce charm. It allows you to perform the visual and audio effects of any spell without actually casting it."

"That might come in handy. How do you do it?" Ron inquired.

"Just mutter, "Farcio" before you cast the spell and it automatically takes effect."

"Anyway, Marshall..." But Harry was cut of by Marshall's laughter and the fact that he had collapsed on the floor.

"THAT WAS HILARIOUS!" He whooped. "Did you see the looks on their faces?" He asked them as he got up.

"Well, I think I want to start practicing by the end of the week, if it's all right." Harry asked

"You'll see... I'll teach you some of the best curses in the book..." Marshall still howled with laughter.

After breakfast, they looked at their schedules.

"Ooh... just as I feared." Harry muttered.

"Gryffindors have joint potions classes with the Slytherins. As always."

"What can you do?" Ron commented. "Only two years left counting this one."

"What's so wrong with the Slytherins?" Marshall asked. I met Chuck before he was put into that house and he seemed all right."

"Well, most of them aren't a real pleasant crowd." Hermione told him. "They just aren't."

"I wish for once that someone would just get Snape to leave us alone. He's always awful to every house but the Slytherins." Harry added.

"Oh, well, if he'sas bad as you say he is, he's liable to get what's coming to him sooner or later. Don't worry." Marshall reassured them.

* * *

Potions was, as always, nothing short of awful. Snape had automatically divided them up into teams of three to make a really complex potion. Harry was in one with Chuck and Dean Thomas, but sadly Neville was stuck with Crabbe and Goyle. Snape was seeming to be even grumpier than he usually was, if that were somehow possible, and began shouting at the slightest provocation made by any of the Gryffindors.

As he reviewed the instructions for making the spell while writing the ingredients on the blackboard and facing away from the class, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be getting bored and began picking on Neville.

"Thwap!"

"Ow!" Neville mumbled as Crabbe smacked the back of his head.

"No talking, Longbottom!" Snape shouted at him without even looking away from the board. Neville suddenly jumped with the pain of a small shock.

"Ouch!" Neville muttered as Goyle poked him in the back with a pen. "Eep!" He was shocked again.

"SHUT UP, LONGBOTTOM!" Snape bellowed.

"Eep!" Neville was shocked again.

"That's IT! TWENTY points from GRYFFINDOR!" Snape shot back, his face flushed red.

"Oww, oww! OWW!" Again and again, Neville seemed to be forgetting things from this constant bullying.

"Fifty points! Sixty! And if you utter another peep..." But Snape stopped. Something bad was happening. Neville was still on his feet, but he was constantly getting shocked. More and more, until he couldn't stop shaking. For almost a minute he kept whimpering and shaking, and everyone, even Snape, was bewildered as to why. Everyone, of course, except for Harry, who didn't know what to do to help, anyway.

"OWW, OWW, OWW!" Neville began to radiate a strange yellowish glow. Suddenly he stopped whimpering and shaking, or even being shocked, for that matter. His hair turned bright golden yellow, and then he looked up.

His eyes. Nobody could believe it. His eyes were a brilliant blue. And his hair was sticking straight up. Then he raised his hands, placing them together out in front of him, and shouted.

"BARBRA STRIESAND!" As to why he shouted this, no one knew.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM! A huge yellow ball shot out of his hands and threw Snape to the back wall, unconscious. He then turned on Crabbe and Goyle.

"Uh..." Goyle muttered stupidly. He and Crabbe immediately bolted for the door, but Neville suddenly just appeared right in front of it. They were both speechless.

"How did he do that?" One student mumbled.

"I dunno." Another replied.

"You can't disapperate or apperate on Hogwarts grounds. It must have been pure speed." Hermione whispered.

Crabbe and Goyle just stared at Neville for a minute, and then, realizing that they had no way out, each threw a punch at him at the same time.

Thump! Neville caught both of the punches at once, and squeezed.

CRUNCH! Suddenly the room's silence was shattered by Crabbe and Goyle's howls of pain - Neville had shattered both of their fists.

Suddenly, as the two collapsed, Snape stood, wand pointed at Neville's forehead, and shouted, "STUPEFY!"

The spell struck Neville right between the eyes and threw his head back, but for only a second. Suddenly his icy gaze was fixed on Snape once more, and he shot forward, almost as if he were flying. He kicked Snape into the back wall and as he was down, began punching him and throwing more blasts at him.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry, just don't hurt me anymore and I'll leave you alone! You and all the Gryffindors!"

"Well, okay..." Neville seemed to be giving it some thought. "NOT!"

The Gryffindors couldn't help but smile just a little as Neville continued to whoop up on Snape, Crabbe, and Goyle all at once. They were trying desperately to subdue him, but it was to no avail.

About a minute later, Dumbledore rushed into the room and saw Neville standing over Crabbe, Goyle, and Snape, all unconscious.

"Mister Longbottom?" Dumbledore looked at him with a hint of confusion on his face.

"Professor." Neville mumbled in a funny, slightly odd voice.

"My my, what has happened? To you and everybody else?" For some reason, Dumbledore didn't even seem angered. As if he knew the answer to what he asked, as if he knew it wasn't as much Neville's fault as it seemed.

"These stupid tree-huggin' hippies was pickin' on me so I opened a can of whoop-ass on 'em." Neville replied.

"Are you all right? Do you feel any different?" Dumbledore inquired in a concerned tone.

"All I know is I'm pissed and I want some Cheesy Poofs!" Neville told him.

"I think we'd better all go on to madam Pomfrey's." Dumbledore conjured up three floating stretchers for Snape, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Yeah, I- (yawn)-think I ought to...-(yawn...)" Thump! Neville had lost his golden hair, blue eyes, and funny glow, as well as the deep, nasally voice, and fallen on the floor asleep. Dumbledore conjured up another stretcher, told the students to wait in the room, and left with the four floating behind him.

"Dude! That was sweet!" Marshall and Stan said in unison.

"Yo, did you see that? That was something else! Marshall, didn't you say something about experimenting with combat curses? I bet you did that to Neville. Genius, yo." Chuck commented all the way from the Slytherin table.

"No, that wasn't me." Marshall, mumbled. "If anyone DID do that, I want to know who, though."

"I'll bet I know what happened." Harry sighed.

"What?" Marshall spun to face him right away."

"Well, Neville had some kind of magical implant that gave him a shock whenever he forgot something really important. I think that's what the bullying does to him."

"Weird." Marshall commented. "But cool."

After alchemy, the Gryffindors headed outside for care of magical creatures. Hagrid always made the class interesting, despite the fact that he usually brought in the deadliest creatures from around the world. This week, it would be rhogadessa.

"What... is that?" Harry stared up at the monstrous spider in the paddock.

"Rhogadessa." Hagrid mumbled with a slur.

"Did he bite you?" Harry noticed a bandage on Hagrid's arm.

"Yeah, he's nasty, he is." Harry was shocked to hear these words come out of Hagrid's mouth, as they all knew Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures normally.

"We... we won't have to touch it, will we?" Ron whimpered.

"No..." Hagrid sighed. I'd rather yeh not. They're awful creatures, they are. Ain't as much like Aragog as you might think. They love to kill just for the sake of killin'." Hagrid glared at the creature. "I've got antitoxin in me pocket if anyone is dumb enough to get close enough to get bit- Hey! What do you think you're doin! Get away from that!" Hagrid shouted at Chuck, who was playing chicken by sticking his hand in the paddock, and pulling it out as the Rhogadessa charged, trying to rip it off.

"Well, you got bit." Chuck pointed out.

"I had to wrestle it into the cage!!!" Hagrid bellowed.

The point of the class, it turned out, was not to teach how to take care of a rhogadessa but how to handle and even kill it should they come across one. What the monster was was a spider larger than a horse, with a head the size of a computer monitor, four fangs the size of swords and ten times as sharp, and shaggy hair all over. Hagrid first taught them how to counter the bite's poison with a special spell, but reminded them that should they be bitten they'd more likely just bleed to death, or worse.

When the class was finished, made their way to the other two, and finally finished the day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back to the common room before dinner. There they were met by one person. Marshall Oak.

"Ready?" He asked them.

"We were just going to..." Ron thought for a moment.

"Practice your curses." Marshall smiled.

"Yeah."

"Skipping dinner? I thought so. Come on, I've got some stuff to show you." Marshall picked up his wand.

"Like what?"

"How's this?" Marshall muttered something, and a loud blast and flash of light flooded the room.

The three jumped back but to no avail, as a wall of force slammed into them all.

When the light cleared, they found the room clean and undamaged, as well as none of them were scathed.

"What... was that?" Hermione stood slowly.

"It's an explosion that damages only hostile targets nearby. Try it, Harry. Just point your wand straight up and say 'Destructus Opposition.'"

"Uh, isn't that kind of, well..."

"Yeah, I know, odd enough. Those aren't even Latin derivatives. But that's the way we do it in America. As amateurs. You know."

"Okay. But how can I be sure it's not a fluke?" Harry asked. "I need someone that wants to kill me-" But before he finished, Marshall pointed his wand to his head.

"You have three seconds to cast the curse. Two. One..."

"Destructus Opposition!" Harry shouted, his wand pointing upward. Again, the room was filled with a deafening roar and light. Harry saw Marshall was not only thrown, but flung back as he was blinded, and when the light cleared, he was lying on his back, blistered on the right side of his face and arm. Harry turned, to see Ron and Hermione standing there, expressions of shock across their faces.

"Marshall? Marshall, are you all right?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah." Marshall coughed and sputtered.

"Wow, that really hurt you. But that's an incredible curse." Harry told him as he stood.

"Yes. What it did was do to me what I was about to do to you. But there was a difference. I had to want to hurt you, not just joke around about it. I had to really have hostile intents. They weren't that bad though, because if they were the curse could have killed me. Work with it, but be careful. Got it?"

"Yeah. But shouldn't you go to madam Pomfrey's office? You're severely hurt."

"She'll start asking too many questions." Marshall warned.

"Why don't you just say..." Ron began. "That you were messing around with the common room fire, when..."

"There was a draft." Hermione finished. "A really big one. And it burned you senseless.

"Good idea." Marshall agreed.

"Listen, I'm sorry..." Harry began.

"Sorry? Sorry?!? I'd expect you to be sorry if you couldn't perform that curse right. I knew that would happen. You did just what I wanted you to. It's a simpler one, so I figured you'd get it right off the bat. Why don't you guys catch the rest of dinner. I'll be fine down at madam Pomfrey's. Say hi to Sharon for me, will ya?" He told them, and left without another word.

"What do you guys think of him?" Ron asked them.

"A little odd. And he does have some knowledge of illegal curses." Hermione told them.

"Yeah, but he's helping us out. And you don't know what things are like over in America. I've heard that an alarming rate of muggles over there carry weapons and such to schools. That doesn' mean they all use them, though it's still wrong."

"And Chuck just knew them for recreation." Ron mentioned, holding a copy of '501 Magical Ways to Obliviate a Potato.' By Chuck Breaker.

"So that's his last name." Harry said.

"I don't think Marshall is dangerous or anything. Dumbledore wouldn't let him in Hogwarts if he knew he was in league with Voldemort." Hermione commented. Ron looked stunned for a moment, until he recalled their encounter last year with the dark lord and their slight loss in fear of him. "And you're going to need some help this year, Harry. Have you thought about talking to Dumbledore?"

"Voldemort said he knew Dumbledore was listening to the broadcast. Dumbledore must know I know. But unless Dumbledore wants to talk to me, I'm just going to remain oblivious as to the entire situation." Harry told them.

A/N: So what do you think? Our heroes have decided to trust Oak... but should Harry...

(1) Finally talk to Dumbledore about the Tournament as well as it's contestants, and perhaps work together to contact them?

(2) Or maybe Sirius and Lupin are anxious to hear from him?

It's one or the other. Though these decisions seem pointless, they're not. I haven't got a lot of support, and I hope you haven't forgotten: Harry's fate, as well as the rest of the world's now, is in YOUR HANDS.

Or are you getting tired of the choose your own adventure online writing project? Please tell me what you think of it, but I assure you, when the later chapters, especially the ones involving the actual Doomspell Tournament come out, it's gonna get good and the decisions more important.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.