Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, the Academy, or any of that stuff. But I might one day! (In my dreams, of course)

Rated PG for: British English and unintentionally making Fred's name rhyme with everything.

AN: I know it's been over a month, but I figured that since I gave you TWO in February, I could stand to be late. Besides, this chapter is a long one. I really have nothing else to say. I would thank more people for reviewing but I am how the French say…a lazy American. Which is actually what everybody else calls me too, because it's the truth.

Chapter Twelve (Filled with the sounds of bagpipes)

"BLASPHEMY!" Fred yelled indignantly at The Daily Prophet.

"What is it?" the populace of the room grumbled, having just been woken up from a good night's sleep.

"Look at these nominations! I mean, what the heck, Peter Jackson wasn't nominated for Best Director? And what's with whole soundtrack issue? The academy obviously just doesn't know what's good and what's not."

Hermione summoned the paper and looked it over. "Well, while I agree that some movies were grossly over-nominated, I think a decent job was done. Besides, they're not so stupid as to miss good when it slaps them across the face."

George snorted, "Then would you please explain to me how the Wild Thornberry's Movie actually got nominated for something?" (We're all still trying to figure that one out)

"I'm not saying they don't make mistakes, but honestly, Chicago got nominated plenty, and that was a good movie, although a bit racy. And The Pianist-"

"Oh big deal," Fred scoffed, "how hard could it be to make a good movie? And to act? It obvious who the bad actors are, but some people act just as well as others."

"You could never act."

George grinned, "Oh yes we could. We are actually quite skilled movie men."

"I sincerely doubt that," she said skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you want to bet on that?" Fred asked.

"Bet?"

George quickly caught on, "Yeah, if we make a movie and get nominated for Oscars. How about if we win, you have to show us who gave you that valentine."

"Then if I win you have to never ask about it again. And furthermore, you will no longer pester me about my love life."

A staring contest ensued.

Fred grinned widely, "I say it's a deal!" They were about to shake hands when George interrupted.

"What exactly are the requirements? Winning? Nomination? And in what categories?"

Hermione thought for a moment, "Let's say…both of you have to get nominated in either the Best Actor or Best Supporting Actor category. In addition to that, your movie has to at least win one, but not necessarily in one of those categories."

Both of the twins laughed loudly. "You got it Hermione." Then, still giggling to themselves, they exited the tree house to discuss their upcoming movie. They would have to use a time turner, obviously, because the nominations had already happened, and after that movies had to wait until the next year.

"Only one problem," Fred said, "who can we get to direct? Not Hermione, obviously, she would go off and sabotage us. Ron would be horrible, blowing up and yelling at everybody.

"You're right. We need somebody with artistic vision, somebody brilliant and creative, somebody who really likes us." Smiling modestly, they both looked up at the sky.

"Don't look at us," Announcer #1 said haughtily.

"You guys are on your own," Announcer #2 added.

"Though if you really want some help, I suggest somebody you know very well. Like, one of your siblings. Like, your youngest sibling. I guess, that could just be me," Announcer #1 sighed.

"Who's she talking about?"

A wadded up piece of paper fell from the sky and landed on Fred's head. "Hey! Ouch!" He rubbed his aching noggin, and picked the piece of paper up. A rock fell out of the middle and scribbled on it was the name Ginny.

"Ah! Our dear little sister! Of course!" With that, the twins ran off, giggling madly once again, successfully frightening every inhabitant of Middle Earth.

Meanwhile…

"I suspect they'll use a time turner," Hermione sniffed over breakfast.

"Well, considering that it's impossible to get nominated after the nominations have been posted, that would be a smart thing to do," Ron said through a mouthful of French…excuse me, Freedom toast.

She glared at her friend and turned to Harry, who was having a conversation with Sirius about something. With a resigned sigh, she turned back to Ron. "Still…"

Ron rolled his eyes, and excused himself to go pile his plate with more food. Hermione looked across the table for a source of conversation and immediately regretted her course of action. Arwen and Aragorn were seated across from her, and doing something that enough to make a girl sick.

"Honestly, you think they could do vomit inducing things out of the bloody room," Ron muttered, sitting down again. Well, at least they could agree on something.

All the Hobbits were contenting themselves with eating a lot of food, when Pippin stopped in mid-chew and his jaw dropped, causing a few eggs to drop onto the table.

"What is it Pip?" Merry asked.

"Look!" he pointed to the window next to the front door. Large red figures seemed to milling around outside it. Then, the doorbell rang.

"Smeagol getsss the door, yesss precioussss, good Smeagol doesss as master asks us." Gollum murmured to himself, sticking the bouncy ball (which was back to its proper color) in his mouth and opening the door, despite Frodo's protests that he hadn't asked the creature to do anything. All faces turned to see who could be ringing the doorbell of a tree house so early in the morning.

Harry gaped at the sight of the Gryffindor Quidditch team on the doorstep. "Hello Harry!" Wood said briskly, entering the room. "All ready for practice?" He was followed in by the rest.

"Wood…what are you doing here? You don't even go to Hogwarts anymore."

"Ah, that's not important," he shrugged, "I came back to help you out. After all, playing the pros teaches you things. Now, where are Fred and George? We've been looking all over for them."

"They're making a movie," Hermione informed the Quiddtich crazed boy.

"A movie?" Angelina asked incredulously, "They can't even act!" That seemed to settle Hermione's resolve further. If somebody who knew them that well thought they couldn't act, the chances were…they couldn't.

"They can't be making a movie!" Wood protested, "Practice awaits! They didn't have their priorities straight then, and they don't have them straight now! And why are there so many people in this room!"

Galadriel stood up from her position at the head of the table. "Go," she instructed, and all the young elf maidens who had been gazing admirably at Oliver, left sullenly. "Please, I invite you to take a seat and have something to eat. You are friends of Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Who's eaten already?" Nobody raised a hand, so Wood directed them to sit down and get something healthy into their bodies. If Fred and George were making a movie, then practice would be postponed for awhile.

It just so happened that Wood took a seat in between Arwen and Legolas. "Hello." Arwen stared at him for a moment, giggled, and turned back to Aragorn. Legolas glowered at him. "Er…something the matter?"

"I'm supposed to be the only young, handsome, pretty boy," he pouted.

The Hobbits started laughing. "You're hardly young!" Pippin exclaimed with a chortle. The elf sent him a glare that could kill a horse, and the Took turned quietly back to his food.

Oliver looked confused, "I don't understand. Who said anything about good looks?"

Legolas looked over his shoulder. "Go away!" he snapped irritably, and the elf maidens hung their heads, shuffling away. "You know perfectly well what I mean, pretty boy. Don't give me any of your 'Oh, I'm not THAT good looking' crap! I challenge you to a battle of the sexiest!" he proclaimed.

Match #9: Oliver Wood vs. Legolas Greenleaf

Announcer #1: By request of the other announcer, she's going to give you the breaking news on this one. Never fear, I shall return!

Announcer #2: Hello, and welcome to another challenge of the sexiest! In corner number one, from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, we have Oliver Wood! Young, dashing, and quite athletic, not to mention, he has a Scottish accent! Who could resist?

And in corner number two we have a familiar acquaintance from Middle Earth! Although you've already met this gorgeous elf, allow me to say that dang! Look at that skin! So smooth and wrinkle free! This will be a tough one, folks. Please, do not use archery or Bludgers to hurt your opponent. Let the match BEGIN!

"Another one?" Ron groaned, preparing to break out the earplugs.

Hermione, however, was grinning from ear to ear. "Well then! What will this one entail?"

"Uh…" Legolas scrunched up his eyes in thought for a minute, "Well, what do girls find the most sexy?"

This caused all the girls in the room to start laughing uproariously (especially the ones on the Quidditch team). "There are a lot of things that factor into it," Angelina gasped, wiping tears of mirth of her cheeks. "Do you just want to be sexy? Or sensitive? Or have that bad boy allure? I mean, sheesh, it's kind of hard to categorize."

"I don't care," Wood stated, "just pick something."

Not to be outdone, Legolas nodded firmly.

The girls went into a huddle, with the exception of Arwen and Galadriel, who were both in relationships, thank-you-very-much. Finally they broke apart; all with grins on their faces not dissimilar from the ones that Fred and George often sported.

"First, we're going to give you makeup, to test your sensitivity," Hermione said, hardly able to keep a straight face, "followed by a modeling show, with clothes that we pick out."

Legolas, not all that wise in the way of mortal girls from other worlds nodded, satisfied. Oliver, however, groaned and slapped his forehead. Both Ron and Harry shot sympathetic looks his way.

Between them, the girls managed to get, black eyeliner, blue and purple eye shadow, eyelash curlers, blush, foundation, and bright red lipstick for each of the boys. "You get half an hour," Hermione said, handing a cosmetic bag to each of them. Legolas walked purposefully out of the room, and Oliver started doubtfully at the bag for a minute, before sighing with determination and leaving as well.

The girls all returned to the table to finish breakfast, which was punctuated with bouts of laughter. That intensified, when the Chasers decided that the Hobbits were just about the most adorable things they had ever laid eyes on. Sirius seemed intent on disregarding the whole situation, and started talking to Galadriel. Aragorn and Arwen continued their barf fest, and Boromir even burst in the room with a few large arrows protruding from his back.

They had just managed to patch up the last of Boromir's arrow wounds when a timer sitting on the table started to ring. "The thirty minutes are up," Hermione announced.

"Does that mean I'm going to die again?" Boromir asked fearfully.

"No. It means that that elf bloke and Wood are going to come back, dressed up like girls," Ron informed him.

A search party was about to be formed when there was knock on the door, and Legolas entered, looking proud of himself. Everybody in the room noted that he had not even a smudge of makeup on his face. "I was thinking about what do with what you gave me," he said, before anybody could ask him what was going on, "you know, trying to think of something sensitive to do. Then it came to me. It's a little sloppy because I only had half an hour, but I did my best." He turned around and pulled a canvas into the room, displaying to everybody.

He had painted a sunset using cosmetics. The black has been used to sketch in shadowed mountains, while the lipstick, blush, and foundation has been used to create the sun sinking spectacularly into the mountains, which was finished off with the eye shadow hinting the beginning of twilight. He explained that the eyelash curler had been used to pinch the canvas against the frame.

The jaws of the four girls from Hogwarts went slack. "It's beautiful," Hermione finally said, "Wow."

Harry and Ron were staring at the creation in disbelief. "Is painting something like that using makeup worse than wearing it?" Ron asked.

"I think it is," Harry nodded.

Legolas propped the "painting" against the wall, "Where's the other one?"

As if on cue, Wood entered the room. A few looked expectantly for a painting lurking behind him, while the others checked to see if he had actually applied the cosmetics. He hadn't.

"You didn't actually say that we had to wear the stuff, so I went and sold it to some royalty for a lot of gold, because apparently the people hear don't normally wear this kind of stuff, and then I went and gave all the gold to a charity."

The girls started melting to the floor, but Legolas scoffed, "How are you going to prove that?"

A woman ran into the room, looking excited. "I just came to thank again so much for your contribution!" she exclaimed. Then she turned to the others and held up a frame, "He even wrote us a poem," she told them, "You are such a wonderful young man."

Wood shrugged, embarrassed. "It was my pleasure."

The woman hugged him, then left. All the girls cooed.

"One's an artist, and the other one is a caregiver, who wins?" That was Ron again, and Harry shook his head.

"I don't know, but they're making the both of us look bad."

"What next?" Legolas asked, eager to prove that he truly was sexier than some teenage kid.

"Oh, the modeling." The girls started laughing all over again, then led the two of them out of the room. Indignant shouts arose from both of them, but finally they stopped, the girls reentered, looking immensely pleased with themselves.

"Does anybody know how to work Fred and George's DJ stand?" Hermione inquired.

Merry and Pippin jumped up, and ran over to the thing. "What do you want us to play?" That led to a few minutes of deliberation. They decided on the song that Legolas had originally had to sing for the first sexiest contest.

"Come on boys!" Angelina called.

Legolas poked his head in, "I don't understand how this makes either one of us sexy," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"Just trust us," Angelina grinned.

"Fine," he stepped in, grimacing. The girls found it to be rather amusing, but the guys grimaced sympathetically along with the elf prince. He was dressed in a maid's outfit, with a tight black shirt and lace, a short black skirt, fishnet stocking, and calf high boots. "I still don't get it."

"You have to model it," Angelina reminded him, which led to embarrassing hip swaying and the like.

"Girls think THAT is sexy?" Ron asked in disbelief. "I am officially proud to be ugly."

"It's because it shows skin…I think," Harry closed his eyes, "I'm with you. Ugly is good."

Legolas swayed out of the room.

"Your turn, Wood!"

"No!" Came his muffled voice from behind the door, "I refuse!" Some force of nature (read: Legolas's arms) caused him to stumble into the room with a groan. He had been fit into a mutilated tight fitting black turtleneck, which showed off his midriff, and unnaturally short shorts for a guy. Instead of getting the solace of boots, however, he was donned in flip-flops. He quickly flopped down the makeshift runway and practically dove back into the backroom to get into his normal clothes.

Ron and Harry shot each other looks clearly saying that they would run away or die trying before participating in a sexiest contest.

Legolas was the first to waltz back into the room, considering he had had longer to change, and he set himself at the breakfast table, finishing his cold bacon. Wood stomped out a few minutes later, and grabbed his broom.

"Come on team," he snapped, "we're going to practice with or without the twins."

"What about us?" Fred asked, entering the room.

"Are we that famous already?" George added, following his twin, and holding a newspaper, which he handed to Hermione.

She read through the front article and her eyebrows shot up. "Ten nominations!? How in the world did you get TEN nominations?"

Fred shrugged, "The Academy loves the musicals."

"Now, what about that valentine?"

"Not so fast," she said, shoving the paper back at them, "you haven't won anything yet."

They both laughed. "We already as good as won," Fred informed her.

"How?"

George sighed, "Didn't you read the article? Everybody is saying that Ginny is the most innovative director they've seen in years. They're saying that if she doesn't win, then the Academy will at least give an honorary Oscar."

Ron reached for the paper, "Ginny directed your movie? And she was good at it?"

"Don't sound so surprised little brother," Fred whacked him on the back, "She's a genius, our sister."

"Shut up about it Fred," Ginny ordered, her face bright red.

George picked her up in a hug, "So modest, our little Ginny."

Now even the tips of her ears were the color of overripe tomatoes. "Put me down, George."

"I can't believe you helped them," Hermione groaned.

Ginny started to smile, "Well, I wanted to know as well. Fred and George aren't the only ones. I figured you probably would have told me if I asked, but it's more fun this way."

Harry had never known that Ginny was so sneaky. But she was right; everybody seemed keen on figuring out who she had received the valentine from. Although everybody figured they already knew.

"So," Fred clapped his hands together, "Is it from Ron?"

"You haven't won anything yet," Hermione insisted.

George whined, "Com on Hermione! The awards aren't for another week! We'll die if we have to wait that long!"

"Good. Then you can't go about blabbing to people."

Fred snorted indignantly, "What makes you think we'd tell people?"

"Besides that fact that we are?"

"I don't care if you tell the entire world, I don't care if you're six feet under, and I certainly don't care if you win a bloody Oscar or not," Wood growled, "you're going back to Hogwarts, and getting ready for practice." The bloodthirsty look in his eyes stopped the twins from jibing back at him, and Harry stood up to follow the team out.

Ginny looked over at the table, "Is there any food yet? I haven't eaten in awhile." Galadriel called some elves to set some food out for her. Ron joined his little sister at the table.

"Hey Gin," he said, "do you find guys painting things with makeup, or wearing fishnet stockings sexy?"

"Not particularly," she replied, "why?"

"Just wondering." At least the entire world hadn't gone absolutely mad. As proven from the sexiest competition Hermione had gone completely over the edge. He looked over at her playing fetch with Gollum, who skittered wildly after the ball, and ran into the wall in the process. Okay, maybe not as over the edge as that one. While he had gone over long ago and was falling down the abyss, she was merely clinging to the edge. He took some solace in the fact that his sister was still many feet away.

"Although, I do think that tight black turtlenecks are really sexy."

Maybe not.

~~~~~~~~~

There you go! Reviews are appreciated, as always! I love you all!