Harry Potter
And the
Doomspell Tournament

A/N: My apologies. I am officially ending the online review-to-decide-Harry's-fate-project. I have not had much of an outpouring of decisions, mostly due to the quantity and quality of my writing (and lack thereof). Thanks to all of you who sent me your decisions, but you need not bother anymore. (I still like the reviews! However, I am hoping that avid fanfic authors will attempt to carry on where I failed in this.)

I ALSO HEREBY CHALLENGE ANY HARRY POTTER AUTHOR TO WRITE THEIR BOOKS USING DECISIONS MADE BY THEIR READERS AND GIVE FULL PERMISSION TO USE AND EXPAND UPON MY OTHER THREE CHAPTERS AS LONG AS I AM GIVEN CREDIT FOR THEM AND THE AUTHOR TAKES UP THE AFOREMENTIONED CHALLENGE.

Chapter 4
Curses and Classes

The morning breakfast frenzy was broken for a mere split-second as the owls hurried in to deliver the mail. Poor, tired Errol alighted upon Ron's shoulder, dropping a package onto his plate and fluttering off with a weary hoot. Hedwig dropped Harry's letters before him and he gave her a piece of toast.

Harry ripped open his first letter and saw that it was a quick note from Remus Lupin. It read;

Harry,

Tomorrow night we need to talk. Meet me in Dumbledore's office at eight. Do not tell anyone of this, it is a secret. Say hi to Ron and Hermione for me.

~Lupin

Harry picked up his next piece of mail, a small piece of paper crumpled up. He unfolded it and read;

Harry-dare you to perform the Crucious curse on Marshall Oak.
~Stan

Another note read;

Don't you dare.
~Marshall.

Harry looked back at the other one, and suddenly the writing had changed.

Don't be such a loser. Go ahead. It'll be hilarious.
~Stan.

Now Marshall's had changed.

Don't be such a jerk.
~Marshall.

Loser.
~Stan

Don't make me come over there.
~Marshall

"I just don't get these American exchange students." Harry commented. Down the table Marshall and Stan were writing on pieces of paper, which, Harry was sure, was how they were performing this little trick.

Harry looked back at Marshall's note and now it read;

Harry - tonight at twelve, Slytherin common room. Chuck tells me their all going on a midnight raid and plan to vandalize some Gryffindor stuff, and he volunteered to stay behind. We can practice curses and as a bonus trash their common room. Sweet, huh?
~Marshall.

"Look what Fred and George sent me!" Ron shouted, ripping open the package. With it came a note which told Ron to test them but not to tell anyone where they were from but what they were.

"I think they'll be all right if you use a few." Ron told Harry.

"What are they?"

"I dunno. Let's open one and find out." He picked up what appeared to be a handful of poppers, picked one out, and put the rest back in the box, which he slipped into his pocket. Walking over to Marshall and Stan, he congratulated them on the joke to Harry, and threw the popper on the ground behind his back, but it made no sound. He got up and sat back down next to Harry. A moment later...

"Do you smell something?" Stan asked.

"No, why?" Marshall replied.

"Hmm..." He sniffed. "Oh, man! What is that? Did you fart?"

"No way."

"The faker's the maker."

"You denied it, you supplied it."

"Hold up, you still are. It's getting worse."

"Dude, that's not me. Maybe it was Ron-"

From across the table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione saw Stan and Marshall throw up simultaneously. Suddenly, they were both on the floor, both regurgitating their breakfast at the same time. Professor McGonnagall rushed over to see what was wrong and immediately sent them to Madam Pomfrey's.

"HAH! That was awesome, did you see it? I wonder how..." Ron pulled out another piece of paper. The piece the package was wrapped in.

"Radius, five meters per popper initial and spreads. The more set off the higher the concentration. Cloud lasts exactly one week regardless. Igniting them gives faster results..."

"Ron." Harry's eyes widened. "Ron, how many do you have?"

"Nine-hundred and ninety-nine. The box says one thousand, and I used one."

"Ron, did it say, the more set off the higher the concentration?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow night I'm going to the Slytherin common room. Chuck invited me and Marshall. It'll just be us there. Can I take a few?"

"Did you say the Slytherin common room?" Ron spoke quietly.

"Yes."

"This is the chance of a lifetime. Take them all." Ron nearly choked with excitement. "But wait-how can you trust Chuck, a Slytherin?"

"I trust Marshall. Somewhat. But I think it's best we take advantage of this, you understand?"

"Of course." Ron slipped the package to Harry.

***

At ten to midnight, Harry was the last in the common room. He quietly slipped on his invisibility cloak and slipped out past the fat lady, who was sleeping.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Wha-" Harry jumped, but soon saw Marshall standing in the corner.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Good."

"How will you keep from being seen?"

"Don't worry. I'm wearing dark clothing, and if I hide in the shadows, no one will see me."

"What if they hear you?"

"I'm wearing elven sneakers. You can't hear elven shoes."

"Cool."

They crept through the halls and down to a dank, musty dead end. Marshall crouched in the corner and Harry stood behind him. Minutes passed.

Almost twenty minutes later, Marshall finally groaned.

"He must've made a mistake." Marshall whispered.

"Maybe we can't trust a Slytherin."

"No way. Chuck's okay. You-"

"Shh! Listen..." The wall inched open, and a number of Slytherins slipped out, from all years.

"...Now." Marshall whispered as the last of the Slytherin's passed, a handful of first-years, followed up by Crabbe, who appeared to be helping Goyle lead the raid.

Harry sprung into action, grabbing the heavy door before it shut, and he and Marshall slipped in.

"Hey." They jumped. Chuck stepped out of the shadows and greeted them.

"Hey. You ready?"

"Sure. This'll be great." Chuck handed him a roll of toilet paper.

"Wait, what about the curse lesson?"

"Huh? Oh, we won't have enough time for that. They'll be back in a half hour, tops. I made sure everybody went, though. They're hurrying it along because of the lower classmen."

"Why'd you bring me, then?" Harry turned to Marshall.

"I trust you. Come on, I wanted to give you an opportunity. I heard you all hate the Slytherins."

"That's for sure."

"We're just doing this for a laugh. We can do curses later. 'Zat cool?"

"Sure. But why use plain old toilet paper?"

"Plain old toilet paper? This is by the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes! The roll is ten times longer than it looks, and it soils itself once it's on its target!"

"Do you recall throwing up this morning?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah. Something stank. We think Ron did it."

"Ron did. He got a box of miniature super-stinkbombs from his brothers."

"So he is related to them. I thought so."

"Yup."

"Well, go wake him up and get a few. Hurry!" Chuck told him.

"I've already got the whole box. He gave them to me."

"Forget the toilet paper." Chuck put away his roll and Marshall gave him back his. "How far do those things spread and last?"

"They spread for a while, they last for a week, and the more we use, the stronger they smell. Especially if we light them."

"Wands out?" Marshall picked his up.

"I'll cover the girl's dorms. Harry, you got the guys. Marshall, you stay here. Make sure not to burn anything." Harry gave them each a large handful of poppers.

"Gotcha." Harry hurried up the stairs. He entered the first-years dorm first. He poured a number of poppers on a bed and lit them. They gave one brilliant blue flare and burnt out, but the bed was not burnt. The stench was immediately apparent and Harry Bolted for the next level.

He poured about forty stinkbombs on the dresser, lit them up, and ran for the door. They had already burnt out when he reached it. Next he bolted for the third year and fourth year dorms, then the fifth. When he reached the sixth, he stopped. No, he would do that last. He went to the seventh, poured about fifty poppers out in the center of the room, and lit them ablaze. Then he hurried back to the sixth year dorm. He didn't know which bed was Crabbe's and which was Goyle's, so he poured half of the pellets in the middle of the room, then about ten each of the remaining into each pillow and lit them one by one. Then he lit the pile in the middle of the room.

When he reached the hall, he realized the stench was really reaching. He let out all his breath and dove down the stairs into the common room. He met up with Chuck, who leapt out of the doorway coughing and gagging.

"Good night! It's awful in there! I got every room. Marshall?"

"Out here!" Marshall opened the door. Harry and Chuck clambered out.

"Marshall?" Chuck called behind him.

"I'll be right with you. I gotta set them off." They waited in the hall for him. But seconds later, they heard something. Then the Slytherins rounded the corner at top speed.

At that moment, Marshall leapt silently out of the common room and crouched into the corner, again barely visible. The Slytherins passed, all of them barreling into the common room, running from something. One of them bumped into Chuck.

"What is it, Chuck, why were you out here?"

"Some Ravenclaw I saw earlier at lunch was in there. I don't know how he got in."

"Are you sure it was a Ravenclaw?"

"I know it was. And how else could she have gotten in without me seeing? It was a Ravenclaw. I didn't see them get away."

"GAAH!" Shouts erupted from the common room. Harry noticed Crabbe was talking to Chuck, and he hurried in to see what the commotion was. Harry and Marshall bolted down the hall and could barely hear the group puking.

"That was incredible!" Marshall laughed.

"They're gonna be pissed."

"But it's great to know we have someone we can trust that can get us opportunities for us. I guess exchange students have to look out for each other."

When they reached their own common room, Ron was waiting for them.

"Did you pull it off?" He asked.

"Operation Stinkin' Slytherins was a success. Hey, thanks for the stinkbombs."

"Always glad. I just hope it doesn't trail down here. You never know. As for the Slytherins, how did you get them all out?"

"I was just told they all left. Maybe Chuck convinced them."

"Yeah. They came around here. Thanks for tipping us off. We had traps set."

"Like what?"

"Well, besides the fact that my brothers gave me a kit, Seamus Finnigan had set up spots outside that ignited when you stepped in them. Dean Thomas charmed his Quidditch kit to slam into the Slytherins, and I used a charm to alert us when somebody stepped over it. But Neville had the best idea of all."

"Neville?" Harry was somewhat amazed.

"Right. You know how well he does in Herbology? He put out some Devil's snare and charmed ordinary vines to work as snares. Pretty cool, huh? More than half the Slytherins got caught in his traps."

"Cool!" Marshall exclaimed. "So where are these traps now?"

"We got rid of them. Filch came a few moments ago but I was the only one out at the time, and I told him the Slytherins had just come by and started a fracas."

"What if they tell someone it was us that stank up the place?"

"Hold on. Chuck gave us a defense." Marshall stated.

"True, but still. Do we have proof the Slytherins were here?"

"Do they have proof that we were there?"

"No, except for the stinkbombs."

"Who knows about those? As far as those go, anybody could have had those."

"They aren't on the market yet." Ron pointed out.

"You think Filch or anyone keeps up with that stuff."

"Good point." Harry agreed.

They crept back into bed but couldn't fall asleep, laughing uncontrollably for almost half an hour, wondering also where the Slytherins were going to sleep for the next week.

***

The next morning down in the great hall, Harry discovered a number of Slytherins rolling up sleeping bags.

Marshall came in and mad his way to find Chuck in the crowd, and they began congratulating each other quietly.

"Seriously, no, we owe it all to Ron and Neville, they're the real heroes." Marshall mentioned to Chuck.

"A stroke of genius I would have never thought possible from him?" A greasy voice asked behind them.

"Snape." Marshall said coldly.

"Hello, SIR." Chuck snickered.

"Just to let you two know... face me!" He bellowed. Marshall spun, and, being as tall as he was, stared him straight in the eye.
"I know something went on last night, and if I get a shred of proof about it, it will go straight to Dumbledore!"

"I fail to see the threat."

"You know exactly what I am threatening to do!"

"Go ahead. Here's your proof. I did it. I stunk up the Slytherin common room."

"Marshall, that was you!?!" Chuck acted shocked.

"Quiet, mister Breaker! I know you were conspiring with-"

"But I'm the only one you want in trouble." Marshall reminded him.

"Well, you are, because you just told me..."

"And I'll admit it to Headmaster Dumbledore, too."

"You most certainly will when I tell you to..."

"No, I will be truthful with him because I respect him. I have no respect for you. Oh, by the way, Neville!" Marshall called Neville over. "Show him what you recovered from your Devil's Snare!"

Neville waddled over, clenching something tightly in his fist.

"Longbottom, what is that?!?" Snape demanded.

"A piece of fabric, sir, from one of the slytherin student's robes. It has the emblem of your house..." He said with little hesitation.

"I will take that!"

"No, you won't." Marshall intervened. "And if you go to Dumbledore with my confession, I'll go to him with this. Definite proof that your students were out pulling mischief on us Gryffindors." Chuck took the cloth. "Thanks, Neville."

"I'll see you in Alchemy, Longbottom."

"Hey, Professor, remember, they never fixed that charm in my head. The one that makes me remember stuff." Neville took a deep breath and got RIGHT IN SNAPE'S FACE.

"Oh, I heard about those. ADD wizards in America got them, and went hyper whenever they got pissed off." Marshall told him.

"R-right." Snape said hesitantly. "Off you go, Longbottom." Neville strode away. Snape couldn't forget earlier in the year when Neville had given him the beating of a lifetime.

"Well, what's it gonna be, Severus?" Marshall demanded.

"YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS PROFESSOR SNA-"

"I will address you as whatever I want. What's it gonna be?" He held up the rag with the Slytherin emblem on it.

Obviously, Snape knew what his own students were attempting to accomplish. He didn't want them in as much trouble as Marshall could get into.

"Very well." Snape growled. "This shall be our little "secret." Agreed?"

"Agreed." Marshall gave a superior smirk.

A/N: I'm back. So sorry, I've had a lot on my mind. Schoolwork, another novel in progress, and petty stuff. But chapter five is coming real soon! I hope I haven't lost my touch.