AN: This is a practice round fic for the International Wizarding School Championship - Season 3, Practice Round 4.
School: Ilvermorny
Theme: Winter Solstice
"The shortest day and longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice celebrates the rebirth of the sun."
Write about a long night beginning or ending. Take it literally or figuratively.
Main Prompt: Character – Ludo Bagman
Additional Prompt: Creature – Mermaids
Word Count: 1540
Ludovic Bagman, or Ludo to absolutely everybody ever, was a blue-eyed, blond-haired man who had once been proud of his athletic build; although years of junk food, drinking and inactivity had seen that body go to pot.
More importantly, he was used to stressful situations.
On graduating from Hogwarts, he'd shot straight into a high-flying career as a Beater for one the best teams in the British Quidditch League; the Wimbourne Wasps. Within a few years of sitting firmly on the starting line-up, he'd been chosen for the 1981 English National Quidditch team, although they weren't as brilliant if truth be told.
He also had a penchant for gambling and often resorted to dirty tricks to ensure he came out top, which of course had led to a few tricky situations during his many years on this earth.
During a recent interview, Witch Weekly had described him as careless; an accusation that had caused Ludo to chuckle, before writing a very stern letter to the editor requesting that they rescind their comments. Sure, he had once accidentally passed vital information to Augustus Rookwood, leading to Lord Voldemort gaining a lead in his war against the magical community and sure, he often forgot about the International Statute of Secrecy; usually by neglecting to adorn muggle clothing whilst in their presence. But it was often just genuine obliviousness and not malice; something he'd put down to receiving one too many bludgers to the head.
There was always an excuse for something; a rule he'd tried to live by since he was small.
Still, he genuinely thought that deep down he was a good man; despite the growing list of enemies he'd been collecting, especially over his later years. So when Barty Crouch had suggested they lead a small group of teenagers to the Great Lake, put them to sleep then leave them tethered to heavy weights for the Triwizard School Champions to rescue, he'd been a bit hesitant, to say the least.
Which is why he found himself on the edge of the said lake as the sun started to set on a freezing cold January evening.
He'd been playing with his wand as he paced the shoreline, alternating between the hot air charm and using Lumos to light his path, ensuring his feet didn't enter the frigid water. The next time he saw Barty Crouch, he'd have to hex him for sure for putting him in this situation. When they'd agreed to restart the Triwizard Tournament, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation had promised that they would face the challenge together, to balance the load so that neither of them would be overwhelmed or overworked. But then the stuffy old man had gotten ill and decided to put his sidekick, Percy Weatherby in charge of reading out the many letters Barty had sent, full of instructions. Of course, such a junior member of the Ministry could not be trusted to make important decisions about the tournament, so most of it was now falling on Ludo's shoulders.
The night grew slowly darker and still, and his invited guests had not shown. He plonked himself down on a large piece of white driftwood and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. Trust mermaids, or merpeople as they preferred to be called, to turn up late.
The Selkies that frequented the Scottish waters were particularly contrite, Ludo had quickly discovered, with their grey skin and long, wild dark green hair. When he had first met the creatures (for they had rejected the being label, choosing not to be associated with Hags and Vampires), Ludo had been positively turned off. He dealt with beautiful, easy-going people best, finding it easier to build up a rapport with them if he could look them directly in the eye. He had been understandably upset; he had always pictured mermaids to be beautiful creatures, with jewelled fins and long, lustrous hair and hadn't realised their nuances depending on where in the world they were.
His eyes searched across the dark water, looking for signs that they may break the surface; every lap of the small waves distracting him from his thoughts. He wondered if he should just give up and head back to the castle. Tomorrow would undoubtedly be another long day, full of meetings with the Headteachers of the three schools and avoiding those damned Weasley twins, who were so adamant to receive their ill-gotten gains from him, despite the fact they were very plainly gambling while underage.
Now that he thought about it, perhaps using Leprechaun gold wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had.
And then, of course, there were the Goblins, who seemed to be able to track him down wherever he was. It was like they had a tracking charm on him; not even an invisibility cloak would be able to stop their constant pestering and hounding of him.
He wrapped his yellow and black striped cloak tighter around his thick body as the moon hit the ceiling of the sky and sighed heavily. This was all going to shit, really. All he wanted to do was make sure that the four children they were putting in the lake would be safe; that the merpeople would look over them and ensure that nobody would die during this almost impossible tournament. Of course, it was too late really for them to change the task; the screech of the golden egg's message had been echoing around the castle grounds ever since the first task had finished.
He needed so badly for this tournament to be a success; Fudge had promised him a huge bonus if he and Crouch were able to pull it off and with the promise of repeated competitions every four years then maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to pay off his debts and get himself back on the right track again.
Which meant no unnecessary deaths of children.
He had to admit that the Wizarding community sometimes had a somewhat sadistic view of entertainment. Quidditch, their most favourite sport, was brutal and the Triwizard Tournament had been a roaring success until the death toll had mounted so high it had been discontinued. The news that it was going to be revived, with a new rule ensuring that champions had to be of age before they could compete, had been fantastically received and had been the talk of the Wizarding World until those pesky Death Eaters had caused a bit of a stir at the World Cup. Who better to run a difficult gauntlet of scary and deadly tasks than a bunch of barely legal, or in the case of Harry Potter, definitely not legal, children? The cream of the crop, the best in their schools.
The addition of the Boy-Who-Lived, the investigation of which was still on Ludo's to-do list, had been the icing on top of the cake.
The competition had been brilliant so far. Negotiating with Charlie Weasley to provide the most dangerous of dragons had been one of Ludo's best ideas to date. The first task had been excellently entertaining and all of the champions had given it their best go. Of course, despite turning down his well-meaning offer of help, the Potter kid had blown everyone's socks off. He was well on track to winning the thing, and Ludo had doubled his bet on him. It would be even better for Bagman if the Potter boy succeeded, and if he could be linked to that success, then maybe Ludo could claim back some of his old fame and then the money would definitely start rolling in.
Ludo raised his head to the sky as the sun started to appear along the horizon. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, grimacing at the rasp of stubble. Despite his increasing years and increasing body size, he still tried his best to look presentable. He was a public figure after all. He got to his feet and stretched; his ever-growing backside had gone numb during the countless hours he'd spent perched on the driftwood, waiting for those ghastly mermaids to turn up. He hiked his trousers back up and let out a heavy sigh. If a simple meeting were too hard for them to commit to, how could they trust them with the children's lives? He started to brace himself for the awkward conversation he was going to have to have after breakfast; warning the headteachers that his meeting was unsuccessful was definitely high on his list of things he'd rather not do. It put the whole operation at risk.
He was about to turn to head back up the castle when a surge of ice-cold water crashed over his feet, causing him to yelp in shock. He turned back to the lake, his eyes trying to make out shapes in the slowly growing daylight. He was, he decided there and then, getting far too old for this shit. He watched as a long spear broke the surface first, the wood decorated with algae and duckweed, and felt his shoulders droop. It was about bloody time. After the longest night spent waiting, Ludo retook his seat on the driftwood and steeled himself; now the real work had to begin.