"Quiet," Francis said, "I want to be able to hear it when it happens."
"What did you do?" Stan whispered, "and should I start making my excuses now?"
"This is brilliant," Francis said, "I had Malcolm figure out how much gunpowder I needed, but all the rest of it was my idea. You know the trophy case that Spangler is so proud of? I drilled a hole in the base, and filled it with the gunpowder. The beautiful part is that I took the frayed end of an extension cord as my fuse and plugged the other end into the outlet that's linked to the light switch in his office."
"Francis, there are no outlets that are linked to that light switch."
"Yes there is, ever since I got into the electrical panel and switched a few wires around."
Stan nodded, then asked, "Does this blow up the trophy case?"
"No, it's too heavy for that. I figure it'll blow out the base and the thing will fall over. I used some extra gunpowder just in case. Malcolm said three ounces would be plenty but . . . "
"How much did you use?"
"Two pounds," Francis said, casually, "That wood base is pretty thick."
"Francis, you idiot. That base has a solid steel inlay. If it breaks apart, you'll send shrapnel everywhere." Having said that, Stan proceeded to lie on the floor. After a moment of hesitation, Francis joined him.
Suddenly, an explosion was heard, followed by a loud crash and the sound of something going through a wall.
*
"I am curious, Commandant," one of the gentlemen asked, "you are an expert at utilizing space, but why is this one area empty."
"Forgive me for my sentimentality," Spangler said, "but this was the spot of the original trophy case. The new case was too large to be brought up to this floor, and I leave this space free, in case a way is found to move it. Even now, some of my star cadets are working on the problem. Until then, the trophy case sits just below here."
As though waiting for that moment, the light was turned on in the Commandant's office. The empty floor where Spangler had been pointing shattered from a heavy blow. The trophy case shot through the flooring until the large base jammed itself between two steel support girders.
"My compliments to your cadets," the gentleman said, as the dust settled.
*
"Malcolm," Ron called out, "How are you this morning?"
"Fine," Malcolm said, "Are you and Harry still fighting?"
"Of course not."
"Do you talk to each other?"
"Why should we?"
Malcolm shook his head. "Ron, I appreciate the fact that you're being nice to me, but it is getting annoying. You know Harry didn't do anything wrong. I told you that. Hermione told you that. Even Dennis Creevey told you that."
"Only because you told him to."
"That's beside the point," Malcolm said, "The point is, you're wrong to be jealous of him. You're the lucky one. You don't have reporters writing lies about you, just to sell their papers."
"Like that story about you being born with two heads."
[He would remember that one.]
"Yeah, like that one."
"Well," Ron said, "I'll think about it. What are you planning on doing today?"
"I was going to meet Hagrid for my Care of Magical Creatures class. Do you want to join us?"
*
Everyone was excited. The first task of the Tournament was taking place today. The stands were packed early and Malcolm was glad of his animagus abilities. He could fly over the crowds, and save some good seats. Hedwig helped.
"I owe you one," Ron admitted. "I could never have gotten a front row seat on my own."
"Ron, I know you're still upset about Harry," Malcolm said, "But just go up to him and apologize. After everything the two of you have been through together, this is simply stupid."
"That's exactly what Hermione told me," Ron said, sadly.
"That's because Hermione told him to," Dewey said from behind Malcolm.
"Dewey, what are you doing here?" Malcolm whispered. "Why aren't you in that really good seat I saved for you, all the way at the top of the stands?"
"I gave it to some weird guy named Dobby," Dewey whispered back. "He was even shorter than me."
"We'll try and make room," Malcolm said testily.
"You can stand in front of me," Ron offered. "I'm tall enough for it not to be a problem."
"Thanks," Dewey said, then asked, "Why are you being nice to me?"
"Because you're Malcolm's little brother," Ron said, jokingly. "We little brothers have to stick together."
"I have three older brothers," Dewey said.
"I have five," Ron bragged.
"Did you ever have to wear hand-me-downs? The reason I have this shirt is 'cause Reese got sick on it and Malcolm didn't want it."
"Do you see these robes? The way my hands stick out? I'm the sixth Weasley to wear these robes. I don't even have a choice in the matter. You should see my dress robes. A hundred years old, from the used bin."
"Did your brothers ever ditch you?"
"All the time. My Mum would tell them to take me along, then they'd dump me in some shop or alley way. And then they'd blame me for running off."
"And mom always believes them. And we're the ones who get punished. Then they steal our toys."
"And tell our mum we don't know how to take care of things. They even turned my teddy bear into a giant spider, while I was holding it."
"They took my teddy bear and set him on fire, then blamed your sister."
"And had her thrown into jail. You git, Malcolm, how could you?"
[It happened again. Dewey talks to someone and they end up blaming me for anything.]
"Ron, are you . . ." Fred began to ask.
"No," Dewey yelled, "He doesn't have any more toys for you to destroy."
Ron and Dewey high-fived each other as everyone around them made it a point to leave them alone.
"They're starting," Ginny said, as the wizards led a red dragon into the middle of the field, where it responded instantly to the nest of eggs. "That's a Chinese Fireball," she told everyone, especially Dewey, who went wide-eyed at the sight of his first dragon.
The announcer called out the name, Viktor Krum, and the Bulgarian student exited the tent. He slowly paced the dragon which watched him intently. He pulled out his wand, and cast a spell, which seemed to have no effect. He stood still, marshaling his strength, then tried again, casting as strong a hex as possible.
The hex hit the dragon squarely between the eyes. The Fireball was stunned at first, and Viktor slowly approached. Then the dragon let out a howl, and began stomping around in rage and pain. A loud groan was heard from the crowd as the dragon smashed several of its own eggs. Finally, it stumbled far enough away for Viktor to run in and grab the golden egg.
As the crowd applauded, dragon handlers ran onto the field and subdued the red dragon, removing it with some difficulty. "That was scary," Dewey said with energy, "That was much better than the movies."
Fleur Delecour exited the tent, and faced the Welsh Green. She was prepared, and immediately drew her wand, casting a sleeping charm. It worked with annoying slowness, and the more annoying sound of one boy yelling, "Wake up, Wake up, It's a trick."
"You're not supposed to root for the dragon, Dewey," Malcolm said.
"But it's not fair," Dewey said as he watched the girl walk up to the nest.
They watched the rather boring proceedings, until the dragon snored and released a blast of fire, which ignited the girl's skirt. Fleur quickly cast a spell and water flowed from her wand, dousing the fire. With more embarrassment than injury, she gathered the egg and left the field.
The Green Welsh was removed easily, and a Swedish Short-Snout was set in its place. Cedric Diggory came onto the field, and slowly approached the dragon. He pointed his wand at the dragon and cast a stunning spell. As he neared the nest, however, the dragon shook of the spell, and Cedric was forced to make a hasty retreat.
Cedric looked around, and then pointed his wand, not at the dragon, but at a rock. The rock was transfigured into a Labrador Retriever, which began barking at the dragon. Confused by this second target, the dragon hesitated. Since Cedric was only standing there, the dragon decided to go after the dog. As it set out to chase the dog, Cedric ran for the nest and scooped up the golden egg. He started to run but the dragon had realized it was a trick and turned back, catching Cedric with a blast of fire that forced him to hurry painfully from the field.
Dewey cheered enthusiastically, but no one knew if it was for Cedric getting away or for the dragon almost getting him.
For the Gryffindors, this was the key moment. The Hungarian Horntail was brought onto the field, then Harry's name was called. He walked out of the tent, and cast a spell at once.
"What is he doing?" Malcolm asked.
"He's standing there," Ginny said.
Malcolm looked over at Ginny, who gave him a broad grin.
[I'd ask why, but she doesn't know either.]
"Look at that," Dewey called out, "He called his broom."
Everyone applauded as Harry mounted the broom, and flew into the air. They oohed and aahed as the dragon breathed fire at him. When the Horntail barely missed Harry with its tail, the entire crowd gasped with relief, except for Dewey who yelled out, "GO FOR IT."
With a quick maneuver, Harry coaxed the dragon to take flight, then swooped down and grabbed the egg. The first task was complete.
"Harry could have been hurt badly," Ron said, to no one in particular.
"You should talk to him," Dewey said, "friends are important. I plan on having one, some day."
"Thanks, Dewey, I will," Ron said, and left quickly.
"I've got to go," Dewey said, "I'm being punished and I'm not allowed out of the house."
"Okay, Dewey," Malcolm said, "and tell Mom and Dad I love them."
[I really hope he does tell them.]
*
Malcolm sat in the library trying to relax. He would join the party shortly, but he needed some time to think. He had watched Dewey as he left the field. Dewey met up with Peeves as they neared the castle, and then they disappeared behind a tree. Malcolm watched until Ginny and EJ both shook him, but neither Dewey nor Peeves had reappeared. Then his thoughts were disturbed.
"Excuse me," a heavily accented voice said. Viktor Krum was standing there. "I tell them I must valk off my energy," Viktor said, "I noticed you here. You are friend of the girl with bushy hair. She comes here."
Malcolm thought for a minute, then understood that here was the library itself. "You must mean Hermione."
"Herm-own-ninny," Viktor said, "a lovely name."
"I know what you're thinking," Malcolm said, grinning, "but you might as well forget it. She doesn't like dumb jocks. They're all right as friends, BUT."
"Vhat is 'dumb jock?"
"Sorry, it's an American slang. A jock is a guy who is into sports. Since most jocks don't bother studying, they are often called dumb."
"Ahh," Viktor said, "and Herm-own-ninny does not like 'dumb jocks'."
"Well," Malcolm said, "She likes Harry Potter, but as a friend."
"But Harry is not 'dumb'."
"No, but he doesn't spend as much time on his school work as he should. You could say he gets an Honorable Mention. If you want to impress Herm-own-ninny . . ."
[Now he's got me doing it.]
" . . . you have to show her you have a brain, and that you use it."
"I thank you, . . . ?"
"Malcolm."
"Malcolm. And I am Viktor. Now, I regret, I must go to party and listen to everyone tell me Vhat a great person I am."
"I should go too," Malcolm said, "I have to tell someone what a great person he is."
[That would be something. Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum. I couldn't think of a more unlikely couple. I'll have to tell Draco and Ginny about this.]