Harry Potter and The Marauding Champions

By NonsensicalRants


Chapter 6:

The Rival Induction


Harry had mail-ordered an enormous collection of books on birds - both of the classical world and the new one - some weeks ago. Due to the unnecessarily slow and complicated process of ordering Muggle picture encyclopedias and having them transferred to owl post, they had all just arrived that morning. And so, after taking a bath in Slytherin's Sauna, he'd taken to wasting his mornings flipping to pages at random hoping to find some avian that jumped out to him as deserving of the moniker "VoulgeNeb", but none of the flowery creatures detailed in "The Lustrous Birds of Paradise" had a beak worthy of such note.

Interesting plumage? Certainly. Vibrant colors? You bet your bottom Knut. But halberd-like beaks? Not really. Plenty of strange toucans, flamboyant vultures and other things Sirius would find suitable for mailing needs that even the most openly homophilic of South American wizards would never consider for the job.

With a forlorn sight he closed the last of his new books and stood up from the library table to gather his now useless purchases. There were twelve in all, but they were each on the thicker side and flush with illustrations. He chose to forego a lightening charm in favor of challenging himself to carry the behemoths unaided.

Upon reaching the door to the first floor corridor he reconsidered his spontaneous upper body workout and decided they were better off gifted to the school than thrown in the trash he made a pit stop at Madame Pince's desk.

"What're these?" The librarian all but snarled at Harry.

"Errr, donations?" Harry answered nervously.

A few moments later saw Harry exiting the massive library doors with a brand new pass to the restricted section in his hands, compliments of an ecstatic librarian for whom Christmas had come early... Or perhaps late? The librarian put him under strict orders to not tell anyone about the secret rule only the Ravenclaw house - and Hermione - knew. That if you donate ten unique books or more you get one free pass to the restricted section. Good for one rental.

Harry had every intention of keeping this secret to himself. All the better to abuse it without the competition.

He felt a vibration from his pocket and withdrew the handmirror shaped messenger Fleur had crafted some days before. He unclasped it to read the message inside.

Forge spotted fntering infirmary escorting one Lee Jordan. He's all yours VoulgeNeb

- PaddleCul

Harry smiled at Cedric's message and noted that it was indeed his turn to go on 'patrol'. He and the other Marauders and been taking turns tormenting the twins whenever they could catch one alone.

There was also the fact that Lee had taken six whole days to finally go see Madame Pomfrey about his, ehem, bladder problem. A factoid which was enough to make Harry giggle visciously enough to encourage a passing group of Slytherin seventh years to give him a wider berth. H

He needed to work on his evil laughter. It was working too well, and that just won't do.

His trip to the infirmary was uneventful in the extreme. Not even Peeves saw fit to make an appearance. The poltergeist's recent bout of inactivity had not gone unnoticed among the Hogwarts population; Harry least of all. Cedric tried to console him that it was nothing to worry about, but he wasn't so easily put at ease.

He came up near the infirmary and wedged himself behind a suit of armour who grunted in annoyance at the intrusion.

Hiding out near the infirmary. If he shows his face I'll get him.

- VoulgeNeb

The ink faded almost as soon as he finished penning his message, but would remain on the other pieces of parchment until such time as the owner saw fit to write a response. And so Harry waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Geez, what was taking so long? Muggle medicine could cure that right up with just two pills... Or so he'd heard, not that Harry could recall where. Maybe he'd overheard his aunt or uncle discussing a similar issue to the one Lee was currently suffering from? Vernon's hygeine was such that an infection was inevitable in the event that those two ever reignited the romance in their relationship.

Harry shuddered at the mental image that line of thought summoned. It resembled a hippopotamus struggling to mount a giraffe in front of a African Safari tour bus.

His prey finally stalked out of the hospital wing with a limp followed closely by Lee Jordan, who was limping in an entirely different way. Both kept peering over their shoulders as if they expected something untiward to happen to them. Trelawney taught them well if they had such an astute sixth sense, or in Fred's case basic pattern recognition.

You can only be viciously pranked so many times while alone before deciding solitude is an unwise state to be in.

Harry, seeing his opportunity while both of his upperclassmen were peering around a corner, pointed his wand in Fred's general direction and whispered that most beloved word.

"Accio."

The earth rending noise of fabric ripping and a nearly grown man screaming like a little girl echoed through the castle as a long, stretchy band of fabric came hurtling towards his hiding place. Harry caught the waistband to Fred's tighty whities just as the redhead fell to the ground in uncontrollable laughter, the kind that comes out of you when you're punched really hard in the stomach, or hit your funny bone on a piece of furniture... or take a nasty fall off of your broom.

It was the kind of laughter that served as the ultimate proof of a wedgie well-performed, but Harry didn't have time to listen to such sweet music. It was time to make his escape.

He unclasped the butt flap of the suit of armor and blew a cold breath into the cavity withing.

"Oooh hoo hoo!" The suit of armour squeeled in embarassment before the trapdoor beneath his feet flew upwards, raising the Knight with it.

Harry leapt down into a twisting slide,only to be deposited in a particularly damp section of the dungeons moments later. After checking if the coast was clear he withdrew the pocket clasp and wrote to the others.

I not only got his tag, I got the entire damn waistband. You all lose the bet. Pay up.

- Voulgeneb

Harry could hear their expletives in his mind as if by telepathy as the ink dried. They should have known better than to make such a bet with him

Sure, they were all older than him, more educated that him, and for the most part more magically powerful than him, but there was one advantage he had that they could never hope to compete with.

His summoning charm was stupidly overpowered.

He lifted his latest trophy up to the torch light and realized his spell was more stupidly overpowered than even he knew. He had, somehow, torn the entire rubber waistbnd of Fred's underwear and summoned it to him without tearing it. It was a perfect ring of cloth, untorn in any place.

"How in the hell?"

But this curiosity escaped his attention once he noticed another detail.

Ew there's blood on it. I think I might have ripped his taint.


It took nearly a week of planning, debating and back-stabbing but their plan for sneaking into Ravenclaw tower was finally being executed.

Cedric had suggested he simply ask his hot asian girlfriend - and yes, he did use those exact words - where the secret entrance was, but Viktor shot the idea down as it defeated the purpose of the challenge. To track down and find a room without any help, that was their mission, and by god they would carry it out!

So here they were, on the Quidditch pitch, with all of the team hopefuls lined up.

The idea was to put tracking spells on the Ravenclaw students and then search the general area of the castle where the tracking spells inevitably stopped working - as they tended to do when nearing the common room of a school house or other secret room. It was actually a decent way to discover if there was a secret room present. Put a tracking spell on a piece of parchment and thoroughly search the general surroundings when it fails.

It was the searching part that always proved difficult. I mean, who thinks to tickle the pear on a painting or sniff a fabric rose or blow cold air up a suit of arkours arse!?

"They are vaitinf for us, let us put on a show." Viktor whispered to him as the alarm for 5am rang.

Only the truly committed would come down to the quidditch pitch before dawn, and it was the truly committed they wanted.

Harry and Viktor walked along the line of second and third year students. It had taken Cedric using all of his clout and charm on Cho, but they had managed to setup a Seeker training day for underclassman by putting up flyers in every common room save Slytherin, where Viktor simply handed them out to the tiniest snakes he could find.

It also took the baited promise that Harry and Viktor would loan out their own persoaml Firebolts so the seeker hopefuls would experience what seeking is like at high speed, the way professionals play. The high turnout could also be explained by the fact that the "study group" was being taught by none other than the star seeker of Hogwarts; Harry Potter, with assistance from the little known professional player, Viktor Krum.

You probably haven't heard of him. He isn't that big of a deal.

There were a good thirty students, mostly third years, from all four houses. Harry couldn't wait to see Draco's temper tantrum when he learned they excluded him from the event. Count on Slytherin's to be the only ones honestly capable of keeping a secret. Cho and Cedric had at least been invited to help, but they apparently preferred to have their own private practice away from prying eyes.

Perverts. He was surrounded by perverts.

Their first order of business was to examine the brooms for any defects or jinxes. The lessons would begin by having the underclassman practice a few basic drills on their own brooms, or school brooms for those who didn't have their own, before pairing them up and teaching them how to handle the much more dangerous Firebolt. Safety first after all.

There were a few obvious contenders, like Astoria Greengrass who had dreams of playing on the "might makes right" all male Slytherin team. Good luck with that Greengrass. Ginny was there too, standing in line with her hand-me-down Cleansweep 7. This confused Harry, seeing as her older brothers had Cleansweep fives.

"Oh it's Charlie's old broom." Ginny explained as she positively vibrated with excitement for the event. "Mum kept it locked up until she could give it to me for my second year."

Yeah. The Weasley matriarch totally wasn't showing favoritism for her only daughter. Noooooo, none of that going on at all.

Everyone else's brooms were pretty standard and came out clean during their inspection. That was until they came upon a petite blonde third year hailing from Ravenclaw.

"Er, why is there a teddy bear strapped to the head of your broom?" Harry asked with genuine worry.

Indeed, the wide-eyed girl had strapped a small teddy bear to the very tip of her broom with some kind of clip on cup holder meant for desks and a whole lot of rubber bands. It looked like a childish figurehead for a pirate ship. Wait, were those radishes hanging from her ears?

"Oh that's my copilot, David Bowie." The girl explained in a dreamy voice.

The guy from the labyrinth with a moose knuckle? Ick!

"And, uh, vhy did you name your teddy bear after the singer?" Viktor asked, apparently more familiar with the Muggle actor/musician than Harry was.

"Well because he has a little bow, silly!" She answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and they were idiots for asking. "And also because his hair is super soft, just like David Bowie's."

Silence met her explanation. Harry didn't know how they did it, but both he and Viktor managed to keep straight faces at her explanation. Viktor recovered first, leaning down into Harry's ear and whispering.

"This girl is an absolute riot. We must keep her around."

Harry wholeheartedly agreed.

They moved right onto drills after that. It was a simple matter of flying a short course of illusionary rings, one of the first spells team captains taught new players right after the cushioning charm. Harry had never been very good with illusion magic and couldn't maintain more than four at a time, but he covered this by being a very quick cast, able to make new ones appear the moment someone flew past the first in a series.

His courses were much more dynamic and unpredictable as a result, while Viktors were more static since he conjured his many dozens of rings all at once.

"How are you so good at planning courses?" Viktor pleaded after Ginny ended her tryout by collapsing into a panting heap. "You are a master at illusion magic if you can keep such intricate paths in mind and also hide the illusions until needed. You should look into more advanced magic of the field."

Harry didn't have the heart to tell Viktor that he made the courses up as he went and that it was likely his worst branch of magic, right behind alchemy, which he couldn't wrap his head around even in the most abstract sense.

They continued like this for twenty minutes, both seekers trailing behind the smaller flyers as they danced to their tune. It wasn't until Dennis Creevey ate shit - hard - that they concluded this part of the tryouts.

"Sometimes you have to admire how noobs brush off what look like injurious crashes as if they were nothing." Harry whispered to Viktor as the house elves brought out a light breakfast.

They watched Dennis sprint ahead of his competitors towards the green little goblinoids without so much as a limp.

"Indeed. He could make a fine keeper."

Harry looked at his fellow champion askance.

"But he's so thin, and tiny. Wouldn't that be a seekers build?"

"Maybe, but he is tough as nails. Keepers need to be able to brush off bludgeors, as they are the most oft targeted. Us seekers rarely can."

Harry tried to think of a single time he'd been hit by a bludgeor without it resulting in greivous injury and came up with nothing. He really did have a bit of a glass jaw in that department didn't he? No wonder Oliver had put more focus on dodging drills for Harry than blocking drills.

After thier quick breakfast they played a quick pickup game with what few students remained. There were actually enough players for almost three whoke teams, but they decided both teams would have two keepers and five chasers a piece with Viktor and Harry playing as opposing seekers, naturally.

"I vil take moon girl." Viktor announced the moment they began divying up the players.

Luna tilted her head and pointed a finger to her chest, as if to ask "who, me?".

Harry would not let this indignity stand.

"Please excuse Mr Krum, he doesn't understand the concept of hometeam players getting first pick. Luna, you're with my team." Harry countered, lightly shoving Viktor away.

"Please excuse Mr Potter, he does not seem to understand how puny he is." Viktor retorted

He then lifted Harry up by his underarms, effortlessly turned him upside down and lightly placed him back on the ground head first, leaving him to collapse in a heap under his own weight. And thus Luna ended up on Viktor's team.

It's always nice to know that disagreements that defy being resolved through words, can always be mediated through good old fashioned bullying.


Elsewhere in the castle:

"Vere is he!? Vere is that vretched poltergeist!?" The wiry Durmstrang student demanded as he and Hermione rounded the corner to the seventh floor.

They both slipped on the algae-like slime they were dripping in and fell into a heap in front of a tapestry depicting Barnebus the Barmy teaching a trio of trolls how to dance in tutus.

"I hope you know he is, in all likelihood, leading us into a much nastier trap?" Hermione huffed at the man, Poliakoff if she remembered correctly.

He looked much better without food dribbled allover his front for a change. She'd had the misfortune of meeting the loser when Viktor insisted on spending time with unclean foreigner. Why her boyfriend valued this man's friendship, she would never understand.

"I don't care! I have a spirit banishing curse and I know how to use it!"

Hermione knew enough to recognize such a curse was solidly in the "dark magic" category and took it as a confirmation that Bulgarian law was much more lax on what magic was acceptable than England.

"Do you know nothing about Peeves! Don't you think we've tried to get rid of him?! Why, In1876, caretaker Rancorous Carpe..."

"Yes yes, I know. He used weapons as bait to lure him into a bell jar trap. The entire castle had to be evacuated." Poliacoff dismissed her with a wave as he picked himself up and offered her a hand.

The fact he actually knew such a on pieceobscure piece of trivia was enough to give Hermione pause.

"How do you know that?" She demanded as she refused his hand and rose to her feet by her own power.

"I vead about it in Hogvarts: a History."

... Well that's a first!

"But then, what makes you think you can succeed where others have failed?" She asked, genuinely curious.

The thin man smiled at her in such a way that showed off every piece of plaque in his teeth

"Because my deer, those others did not have access to the spell that I have access to."

Hermione cringed at the term of endearment, but marched on through the conversation anyways.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because it is a spell of mine own creation."

Hermione balked at the hubris in his statement. She was the only person she knew who could get away with so matter-of-factly hyping up her own genius. And yet here was this, this... Honestly he came across as an unlikeable school nerd, the kind that obsessed over some piece of media or another at the expense of his social life or personal hygeine. The kind of nerd her parents worked very hard to prevent her from becoming. Her hair used to be much worse berore her mother started threatening to cut it all off if she didn't start washing it properly.

Good thing she got that kind of discipline before attending Hogwarts. Shame this man's parents didn't do the same for him.

"A spell you invented you say? I suppose that would make miss Granger the Innovator?" Peeves' voice echoed from behind them.

They turned from the tapestry to find a door that wasn't there before; a door that stood ajar revealing a room of absolutely gargantuan proportions. A room filled to the brim with mountains of furniture, books, trunks, clothes, plates and all manner of useless junk. Not that she would ever consider books to be useless junk, no, never. But what was far more interesting than doxxy-infested tapestries and bubbling potion vials were the two figures seated very near the rooms entrance.

"We cordially invite you to be inducted into a rather exclusive club." Mister Filch beckoned as he scratched Mrs Norris behind the ears.

"A club that permits not but two new members every generation, and which we have been tasked with inducting since the school itself was founded." Said Peeves in an uncharacteristically respectful tone.

"Though you should know, it's quite cursed." Filch warned.

"Not that you have the power to refuse anyways." Peeves shrugged.

Hermione glanced between the two figures as she digested the implications of what the Poltergeist just said. She stared at Filch, the man she had been lead to believe was a mere squib, and came to the realization that he wasn't even a man at all. His deep red eyes, identical to that of his cat, seemed to be reading her as easily as a light novel.

"We have such sights to shooooow you." He growled in a perfect immitation of pinhead.

Needless to say, he had her attention.


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