A Fic For A Challenge

*THE BEGINNING OF THE FIC*

Soon after the publication of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, the (in)famous Monty Python crew decided that they wanted in on the Potter mania sweeping the globe. You’d think that, what with their long-running television series, hit movies and whatnot, that they’d be willing to let the Harry Potter characters have their deserved time in the spotlight. John Cleese is IN the Potter movies, for God’s sake. But as we know, those blokes are jealous buggers, so of course they felt the need to “Pythonize” Harry Potter. According to completely unreliable sources, Cleese was the ringleader for this fiasco of a fic (as well as that alliteration just then). Really, doesn’t Britain have room for more than one phenomenon? Bollocks, twenty years from now there’ll probably be midnight showings of the Harry Potter movies…All the crazy fans dressed like the ruddy characters, screaming the bleeding lines at the screen…Wait, that analogy’s more apt for The Rocky Horror Picture Show …But I digress. Since they haven’t got any fresh material, the “Pythonizing” consisted mainly of stringing together some of the more popular Monty Python skits, then messing about with the names and settings. The lazy berks…Long story short, JK Rowling found out about this dastardly, ill-conceived plan. Put a stop to it, she did. Was in a right state (according to the aforementioned unreliable sources, it’s the reason the Nearly-Headless Nick character only had a bit of a cameo in the second film). Anyway….

We, the posters of this fic, would like to apologize for the outrageous lies that were fed to you, the unsuspecting reader, in the above section “THE BEGINNING OF THE FIC.” John Cleese was in no way involved with the atrocity of a parody you are about to read, or any of the alliterations that occurred in the above rambling paragraph. None of the Monty Python crew had any knowledge of the sin against the art of writing that you are seconds away from perusing. The blame lies solely with an inane, uninspired authoress who put off the parody challenge she signed up for until two days before it was due to be posted. Again, we apologize. The writer of the drabbling rant of an introduction titled “THE BEGINNING OF THE FIC” ( a fan-poodle of the authoress) has been sacked.

What do you mean, Cleese had nothing to do with it? He’s the one that pansied out at the last minute, sold us out to JKR, he did! And so she sicced her high-priced barristers on us, and they burned up most of the fic, and now we’ve only got seven scenes left! So now it’s all jumbled up, it is! Damn that Cleese, the rotter! He…

Again, we the posters of this fic would like to apologize for the behavior of this anti-John Cleese fanatic. Those responsible for the sacking of the authoress’s fan-poodle have been sacked. Now let’s begin…

Oy, you’re not getting off that easy, you fic-posting prats! Of course I’m anti-Cleese, the great berk’s the reason this fic’s a right old mess! How dare you blame the authoress? You’re a bunch of…

The blame for this “parody” lies solely with the authoress, not with John Cleese, JK Rowling, or her high-priced barristers. We are certainly not prats. Those responsible for the sacking of those responsible for the sacking of the authoress’s fan-poodle have been sacked. Now, on to…Oh, bollocks, let’s just run the skits.

MONTY PYTHON AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

CHAPTER 7

Bagman and Crouch

(Meeting Arthur Weasley’s Workmates)

[At the “Weezly” campsite at the Quidditch World Cup. The excellent joke about Archie and the Muggle dress has passed already. The Weasley’s, Harry, and Hermione are all seated around the sputtering little campfire, amid two boxes worth of discarded matches. Arthur Weasley is pointing out the people he knows from the Ministry to Harry and Hermione, because none of his own children really care.]

MR. WEASLEY: Yes, there goes Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office…

HERMIONE: Fascinating!

MR. WEASLEY: Quite!…And that was Arnold Peasegood, an Obliviator.

HARRY: Accidental Magic Reversal Squad?

MR. WEASLEY: Yes, very good, Harry!…Ah, and there’s Gilbert Whimple.

HARRY: Er…how long has he had those horns?

HERMIONE: Harry, that’s not very nice, to just bring it up like that…

MR. WEASLEY: No, no, quite all right, he‘s had them quite a while. Gilbert’s with the Committee on Experimental Charms. And it looks like he’s coming over! (waves to Gilbert)

[Gilbert Whimple begins making his way toward them down the thoroughfare, dodging gaggles of excited teenagers and trying not to step on the many little children running around loose. Ron is less than thrilled to see him coming.]

RON: Dad, no!

MR. WEASLEY: Ron, for heaven’s sake!

[Harry and Hermione turn to Ron questioningly, as Fred and George share knowing looks. Ron is not to be dissuaded.]

RON: (indignant) Dad, he’s a total nutter!

HARRY: Why, what’s the matter with him?

[Fred and George lean forward, but before they can answer Harry, Mr. Weasley cuts them off firmly.]

MR. WEASLEY: There’s nothing the matter with him. He’s just a little…

FRED: Out of his tree?

GEORGE: Six hoops short of a Quidditch pitch?

[Mr. Weasley gives them a look that he must have learned from Molly.]

MR. WEASLEY: …Eccentric.

HERMIONE: Eccentric?

HARRY: Eccentric how?

RON: “Eccentric” as in he’s the reigning king of barmy.

MR. WEASLEY: Ron, keep your voice down, he’s right over there!

[Indeed, Gilbert is only one tent away from them--he’s held up by a wizard in an overcoat that shows him a variety of hot wands for sale. As Gilbert shakes the man off, Mr. Weasley continues in a lower tone.]

MR. WEASLEY: And he’s not barmy, he’s just got a bit of a speech impediment.

FRED: Dad, a lisp is a speech impediment.

GEORGE: Not speaking in anagrams.

[Harry is a bit thrown by this bit of news.]

HARRY: What? He speaks in…

RON: Anagrams, yeah. Total nutter, he is.

HARRY: I don’t believe it. That’s just…

RON: Well, see for yourself. Here he is.

[Gilbert, a cheerful-looking tall wizard, arrives at the group. He’s wearing an odd combination of tweed trousers and a brocade waistcoat, and has goat-like horns protruding from his forehead.]

GILBERT: Lelho, Ayeslew!

MR. WEASLEY: Hello there, Gilbert. How are you?

GILBERT: Fipsfing, skanth.

[Harry isn’t quite sure what to think about this odd Ministry employee. Ron and the twins suppress little snickers. Hermione, however, is in awe of Whimple’s verbal dexterity.]

MR. WEASLEY: These are three of my children, Gilbert--Ron, Fred, and George.

GILBERT: Lelho, Nor, Ferd, Reggeo.

MR. WEASLEY: And this is Hermione Granger.

GILBERT: Revy ecin ot etem you, Sims Ergnrag.

HERMIONE: Er…likewise, Mr. Whimple.

RON: (aside to Hermione) Yeah, spiffing to meet you, Miss Ergnrag.

HERMIONE: (whispers) Ron, don‘t make fun!

MR. WEASLEY: This is Harry Potter, Gilbert.

GILBERT: My! Eth Rahry Terpot?

HARRY: Uh…yeah. That’s me, all right.

RON: (aside to Harry) “Rahry Terpot…”

HARRY: (whispers) Oh, don’t be such a kerb, Nor.

FRED: (whispers) Hear that, a kerb! Oi, Reggeo, aren’t you going to stick up for our baby brother?

GEORGE: (whispers) You mean our “yabb throber,” Ferd.

[All four laugh. Hermione is glowering disapprovingly, and Mr. Weasley looks utterly embarrassed by his sons‘ behavior. Gilbert notices the laughter, and is a bit confused, though still cheery.]

GILBERT: Ah…Thaw’s nunfy?

FRED: Nothing, sir. Nothing nunfy at all…

MR. WEASLEY: Fred! Sorry about that, Gilbert.

GILBERT: It’s othning, it’s othning.

GEORGE: See, Dad? It’s othning, so othning to worry tabou.

MR. WEASLEY: George! Why don’t you and Fred go…somewhere else, for a moment?

FRED: Sure. Come along, Reggeo.

GEORGE: Right-o, Ferd. Nice to see you, Mr. Phimlew!

[Ferd and Reggeo…er, Fred and George disappear into their tent.]

MR. WEASLEY: I’m very sorry about those two, Gilbert. I’m sure they didn’t mean anything.

GILBERT: Neally, it’s rothing. I’ll mee you at the satch!

MR. WEASLEY: Yes, of course! Nice to see you.

GILBERT: (cheerfully) Don’t be tasting any wime on your way down to the pitch!

[Gilbert turns to leave. Ron and Harry glance at each other, then speak in undertones.]

HARRY: Did…Did he just warn us not to taste any wimes? What’re wimes?

RON: No idea. Hermione, what’s a wime?

HERMIONE: Don’t be ridiculous, he wasn’t telling us not to taste wimes. He said, “Don’t waste any time.”

HARRY: (dryly) Funny…I definitely heard “wime.”

RON: Well, I s’pose we’re both just going deaf then.

HERMIONE: Oh, Ron, for…Well, I’ll show you. (aloud) Mr. Whimple?

GILBERT: Yes, Griss Manger?

HERMIONE: Well, I just noticed…you’re not speaking in anagrams anymore.

GILBERT: Peg your bardon?

HERMIONE: Well, those last few things you said; those were spoonerisms, not anagrams.

[Pause. Everyone is tense, waiting to see how Gilbert will react.]

HERMIONE: (sheepish) Just saying.

GILBERT: (suddenly angry) Well, if you’re going to split hairs, I’m going to piss off!

[Gilbert storms away, leaving the foursome staring after him. Mr. Weasley‘s ears have started to go a little red.]

HERMIONE: I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend him, honest!

RON: Well, if you didn’t have to be such a wonk-ti-lal all the time…

ARTHUR: That’s enough, Nor! I mean, Ron! Listen, let’s just start putting lunch on, shall we?

And lunch was put on indeed. Incidentally, Mr. Weasley was not extended an invitation to Mr. Whimple’s “Tryminis Employees with Runsames Beginning in W” poliday harty yat thear.

CHAPTER 14

The Unforgivable Curses

[Harry, Ron, and Hermione, along with the rest of the fourth year Gryffindors, walk into Moody’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Harry, Ron and Hermione are right up front, with Neville a row behind them. Moody clunks into the room.]

MOODY: Put away your books. You won’t need’em.

[Excited, the class puts away their books. They all look toward Moody eagerly.]

MOODY: We’re going to talk about the Unforgivable Curses. Who knows’em?

[Ron, Neville, and Hermione raise their hands. Moody rests his normal eye on Ron, and points to him with a gnarled finger.]

MOODY: You there, Miss.

[Ron looks around, thinking Moody might mean somebody else. But no, Moody is still pointing to him.]

RON: (confused) Er, what do you mean, “miss?”

MOODY: I’m sorry, I’ve got a cold.

[There’s some giggling from the class, which Moody silences with a glare before he continues.]

MOODY: Do you know an Unforgivable Curse?

RON: Um, my dad told me about one…the Imperius.

MOODY: Yeah, the mind-control one. Not the one I’m looking for, though. How about you, Miss?

[He points to Neville, who’s looking nervous and a little pale.]

NEVILLE: Er…

MOODY: (impatiently) I’ve got a cold.

NEVILLE: Oh, right. The…uh…Cruciatus Curse.

MOODY: Yep, that’s another of’em. You’d know about that, it’s your major plot point, isn’t it, son?

NEVILLE: I…well…

MOODY: Never mind. It’s the last curse I really want to get to…You there, the one who’s really a Miss.

HERMIONE: Avada Kedavra.

[A hush falls over the classroom at those words. Neville makes a little squeaking noise. Moody fixes both his eyes on Hermione.]

MOODY: Ah yes, the last and worst. The Killing Curse. No blocking it, no reversing it. This young miss right here (points at Harry) is the only one who’s ever survived it. Just so you’ll all be ready to recognize it, should it ever happen…I’ll demonstrate the Avada Kedavra.

[The students stare at him, stunned. Quietly, they all edge back, not wanting to be the test subject.]

HERMIONE: But sir…It’s illegal! Use of them against another human being is worth a life sentence in Azkaban!

MOODY: Dumbledore wants you all to be able to recognize these curses! You all need to practice CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!

[The students jump.]

MOODY: And besides, who said I‘d be using it on a human being? I’ve got this here toad…

[Moody takes a very familiar-looking toad out of one of his pockets, holding it up for the students to see. Neville looks faintly sick.]

NEVILLE: (gasps) Trevor!!

MOODY: What?

NEVILLE: I…Sir, that’s…

[Harry, Ron and Hermione glance at the toad, then at Neville, then at one another. It IS Trevor the toad. They share Neville‘s shock.]

HERMIONE: Sir, that’s Neville’s pet!

MOODY: Can’t be; it was runnin’ around loose. I wouldn’t Avada Kedavra someone’s pet. Here.

[Neville whimpers as Moody places Trevor the toad on the teacher’s desk. He seems unable to protest, so Ron and Harry decide to take over.]

RON: Excuse me, Professor Moody, but I really think that’s Neville’s Trevor. He’s been known to escape every once in a while.

HARRY: I think so too, Professor. Why don’t we practice on something else? If we have to at all…

[Moody gives Harry a significant look, which makes him fall silent.]

MOODY: Why don’t we practice on something else? Because the damn toad’s already on the desk. Now, observe.

[Neville hides his face in his hands, unable to watch. Ron and Harry try to protest again, but Moody raises his wand, and…]

MOODY: AVADA KEDRAVRA!!!

[A flash of green light. Trevor lies dead on the teacher’s desk.]

NEVILLE: Oh no…Trevor…(begins to cry)

[Harry and Ron gape open-mouthed, as some other students give Neville sympathetic looks. Hermione looks close to tears herself.]

HERMIONE: Professor Moody, what did you do?!

MOODY: Avada Kedavra. I thought you were the smartest witch in the year.

[Hermione blushes and blinks furiously. Ron, furious, stands up, with Harry quickly following.]

RON: Hermione meant: How could you kill Trevor?!

MOODY: I didn’t.

HARRY: Yes, you did! I can tell that’s Trevor, he’s been in our dorm for four years now!

MOODY: Er… (realizes he’s indeed killed Trevor). I didn’t kill him.

[Ron and Harry stare at Moody in disbelief.]

HARRY: But we just saw you!

RON: Don’t lie to us, professor!

MOODY: I NEVER LIE, BOY! This toad’s…resting.

RON: Professor, I know a dead toad when I see one!

HARRY: And we’re looking at one right now!

MOODY: No, he’s RESTING.

RON: He’s stone-dead! (Neville whimpers) Sorry, Neville.

MOODY: I’m telling you, that toad ain’t dead! He’s resting, is all.

[This is too much for Harry, despite Hermione’s frantic whisperings of “Harry, you’re going to get in trouble!”]

HARRY: All right then, if he’s resting, I’ll wake him up!

[Harry gets up and bends over Trevor. Ron follows. Harry shouts at the top of his voice:]

HARRY: HELLO, TREVOR!! LOOK, I‘LL GIVE YOU SOME BOWFLIES IF YOU MOVE!!

[Trevor doesn’t move. Harry and Ron glare at Moody, who nudges Trevor with his wand.]

MOODY: There. He moved.

RON: No, he didn’t! That was you nudging him with your wand!

MOODY: I never!

HARRY: Yes you did!

HERMIONE: (whispering) Ron, Harry…Stop yelling at the professor!

RON: Hermione, he killed Neville’s pet! (Neville whimpers) Sorry, Neville.

HERMIONE: But he didn’t know…

HARRY: The point is that Trevor’s dead, and Professor Moody killed him!

MOODY: I never did anything!

RON: (bending over Trevor) HELLO, TREVOR!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!

[Ron picks Trevor up, and then lets him flop back down on the desk, lifeless.]

HARRY: Now that’s what I call a dead toad.

MOODY: No, no…he’s stunned, is all!

HARRY: Stunned?!

[Neville comes to the front of the room. He picks up Trevor and cuddles him.]

NEVILLE: Professor Moody, I’ve had about enough of this. Trevor is definitely deceased. He is not resting, and he is not stunned.

HARRY: Good for you, Neville. You tell him.

[Moody himself seems a little unsure about why he’s letting this continue for so long, but apparently he’s determined to prove his innocence. Ron, Harry and Neville wait for Moody to answer. Finally:]

MOODY: Well, maybe he’s just…pinin’ for the garden pond.

RON: (in utter disbelief) PINING for the POND?

HARRY: What kind of talk is that, professor? Why did Trevor just flop on the table when Ron dropped him?

MOODY: Because he’s PININ’!

NEVILLE: He is not PINING! He’s passed on!

RON: This toad is no more! He has ceased to be! He’s expired and gone to meet his maker!

HARRY: He’s a stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! If Neville weren’t holding him in the air, he’d be pushing up daisies!

NEVILLE: His metabolic processes are now history! He’s off the lily pad!

RON: He’s kicked the bucket, he’s shuffled off the mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisible! THIS IS AN EX-TOAD!!

[A pause follows Ron‘s final outburst. Moody looks a bit impatient.]

MOODY: Well, I’d better replace him then.

NEVILLE: Thank you.

HARRY: Was that so hard, professor?

MOODY: Here. (rummages in pocket) I’ve got a slug.

[Pause.]

RON: (sweetly) Can it hop?

MOODY: No. It’s a slug, boy.

RON: THEN IT’S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!

HERMIONE: Ron! Stop screaming at the professor!

[Moody chooses to ignore Ron, and focuses on Neville.]

MOODY: Listen, Neville…My cousin’s got a pet shop in Diagon Alley. She’ll replace your toad for you.

NEVILLE: I…

HARRY: (whispers) I’d take it, Neville…I think it’s all you’re going to get.

HERMIONE: (kindly)You can share Crookshanks, Neville.

HARRY: And Hedwig.

RON: And Pig. But…there’s really not a lot of him to share.

NEVILLE: Oh…(he glances at the lifeless Trevor in his hands) All right, I suppose.

[Neville, Ron, and Harry walk back to their seats. The argument has used up the entire class.]

MOODY: Yeah…well, I suppose you’re dismissed. Very interesting first lesson, I’d say.

[Everyone gets up to leave. Most of the Gryffindors are offering their condolences to Neville as they walk out the door, as Ron shoots another glare at Moody. When Harry, Ron and Hermione reach the threshold, they hear Moody behind them.]

MOODY: Remember: CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!

CHAPTER 20

The First Task

[The corridor outside the Great Hall. Harry is about to tell Cedric, who’s walking along with a group of friends, what the first task is. He pulls out his wand, points it at Cedric‘s bag, and:]

HARRY: Diffindo!

[Cedric’s bag rips open, spilling the contents on the floor.]

CEDRIC: (to his friends) Go on, I’ll catch you up.

[When Cedric’s alone, Harry walks over to him.]

CEDRIC: Oh, hi, Harry. My bag…

HARRY: Cedric, the first task is dragons.

CEDRIC: What?

HARRY: Dragons.

CEDRIC: You mean, we have to get past them?

HARRY: Well, not exactly…

CEDRIC: Then what? And why are you telling me this?

HARRY: Only fair--now we’re on an even footing. Anyway, the task doesn’t just involve dragons.

CEDRIC: What could be harder than getting past a dragon?

HARRY: Well…It’s not the dragons we have to get past.

CEDRIC: Then what?

HARRY: Floor salesmen from Dervish and Banges.

[Pause.]

CEDRIC: You’re having me on.

HARRY: No, I’m serious! Hagrid showed me. I’m guessing that we have to get past the floor salesmen in order to get…something.

CEDRIC: You mean there are floor salesmen penned up next to dragons out there or something?

HARRY: Actually…yes.

CEDRIC: So where do the dragons come in?

HARRY: Well, I’m just guessing…But I think that the salesmen have dragon eggs that we need to get. Hagrid hinted at it, anyway.

CEDRIC: Well…Getting past salesmen shouldn’t be too hard.

HARRY: No, not hard at all.

[Awkward pause.]

HARRY: Well, I thought I’d let you know. Good luck.

CEDRIC: Thanks, Harry. You too.

[Harry waits in the champion’s tent for his name to be called for his turn to face the salesmen.]

HARRY: So all I have to do is get a golden dragon’s egg worth fifty Galleons from a Dervish and Banges salesman. Could be worse…

LUDO BAGMAN’S VOICE: And now…HARRY POTTER!

HARRY: Okay, here we go.

[Harry walks out of the tent to the enclosure nearby. There’s a little stage in the middle, dressed to look like the inside of Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop. Two elegantly dressed wizards, one tall and spare, the other short and a bit chubby, are standing near one of the displays. Harry mounts the stage, wondering what to do.]

HARRY: (to himself) Well, I’m in a shop…(out loud) Excuse me, I’m interested in buying a golden egg.

TALL WIZARD: Certainly, young sir! I’ll get someone to help you. (turns to the short wizard) Mr. Travers!

BAGMAN(commentating): Incredible! Harry’s being polite, and it’s working!

TRAVERS: Can I help you, young sir?

HARRY: Yes. I’d like to buy a golden egg. For…er…fifty Galleons.

TRAVERS: I’m terribly sorry, young man, but our cheapest golden eggs are 500 Galleons.

HARRY: 500 Galleons? But I’ve only got…

BAGMAN: Well, folks, let’s see if Harry knows how to haggle!

HARRY: …I’ve only got fifty Galleons.

TALL WIZARD: I ought to have told you that Mr. Travers tends to exaggerate. Every figure he gives you will be ten times too high.

HARRY: I see.

TALL WIZARD: Otherwise he’s perfectly all right.

HARRY: All right. Er…So that means that your cheapest golden egg is…fifty Galleons?

TRAVERS: 500 Galleons, yes young sir.

HARRY: Well, what would you say to…500 Galleons?

BAGMAN: Oh, it looks like he’s getting it! Harry’s cottoning on!

TRAVERS: Fifty Galleons?

HARRY: Er…Well, yes.

TRAVERS: Sorry, I thought you said 500.

HARRY: I did, because that tall man said that you multiplied everything by ten.

TRAVERS: Do I?

HARRY: I guess…I really don’t know.

TRAVERS: I suppose I could let the egg go for 400 Galleons.

HARRY: Oh, well, great! Here! (hands over the money bag)

TALL WIZARD: Of course, that doesn’t include the clue that’s inside.

HARRY: Oh…That’s extra?

TALL WIZARD: Well, we don’t just give them away.

HARRY: Okay. How about the forty…er, 400 Galleons for the egg, and then the rest for the clue?

TALL WIZARD: Sounds reasonable. Travers, will you show these ten young men to the golden eggs with the flobberworms inside?

HARRY: Flobberworms? No, no…I want the clue!

TALL WIZARD: I’m sorry, I should have told you: You have to say “flobberworm” to Mr. Travers, because if you say “clue,” he puts a paper bag over his head.

HARRY: What?!

BAGMAN: Oh, it looks like Harry’s losing it! He’d better keep his cool!

HARRY: I…I mean, I see. Okay. Er, could you please show me the eggs with the flobberworms in them, Mr. Travers?

TRAVERS: Flobberworms?

HARRY: Yes, please.

TRAVERS: We don’t sell those here. You’ll have to go to the Magical Menagerie.

HARRY: Whaa…? No, no! I’d like to see the eggs with flobberworms inside.

TRAVERS: Yes, young sir. Magical Menagerie is where you’ll find flobberworms.

HARRY: But I don’t want to see FLOBBERWORMS! The tall man said that…

TRAVERS: Oh, what’s he been telling you?

HARRY: But you were standing right…Oh, never mind. He said that I should say “flobberworm,” because if I say “clue,” you’ll…

[Travers puts a bag over his head]

HARRY:…do that. Oh no.

BAGMAN: Come on, now, Harry, you can figure this out!

TALL WIZARD: Did you say “clue” by any chance?

HARRY: Well, yeah, but not on purpose!

TRAVERS: (muffled) I’m not coming out!

TALL WIZARD: Didn’t I tell you to say “flobberworm?”

HARRY: Well yes, but…

TRAVERS: (muffled) I won’t come out!

BAGMAN: Come on, Harry!

TALL WIZARD: Sing to him.

HARRY: Huh?

TALL WIZARD: It’s the only thing that helps. Sing.

HARRY: Er…

TALL WIZARD: Come along, now. Do you want that egg or not?

HARRY: Sing? But…(sighs) Okay. Any song in particular?

TRAVERS: (muffled) I’m not picky.

HARRY: Uh…Okay. Let’s see…Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts…

BAGMAN: Good show, Harry!

[There’s some laughter from the audience as Harry, clutching his money bag, sings the school song to a tune that sounds like “Hail, Britannia.” Blushing, Harry continues the song.]

HARRY: It’s been three years, I can’t remember all the words…

TALL WIZARD: There you are, it’s working!

HARRY: Um…Something about dead flies…Bits of fluff…Scabby knees…

[Travers begins to lift the bag off of his head.]

HARRY: Bald and old, teach me something, please…Oh, I feel like a prat…

[Travers takes the bag off his head.]

TRAVERS: What a lovely song. Here’s your egg, young man.

[ He hands a dumbstruck Harry a golden egg.]

HARRY: Uh…wow…thank you. And…this one’s got a…flobberworm in it?

TALL WIZARD: No, for Merlin’s sake! It’s got a clue in it!

[Travers promptly pulls the bag back over his head.]

TALL WIZARD: Oops…

HARRY: Okay. I think I’m done, then. Um, thank you.

TALL WIZARD: Of course! It was our pleasure.

TRAVERS: (muffled) Do come again!

[Harry walks back to the champion’s tent, to the cheers of the crowd, heartily embarrassed and clutching his hard-won egg.]

BAGMAN: Good show, Harry! Harry was the only champion to actually sing a song! Of course, a few points will have to be deducted, because Travers put the bag over his head twice. But still…Absolutely spiffing, Harry!

CHAPTER 24

Rita Skeeter’s Scoop

[In Grubbly-Plank’s Care of Magical Creatures class, Harry and Ron are discussing where Hagrid could be.]

HARRY: Ron, what do you reckon’s wrong with Hagrid?

RON: You think maybe a Skrewt…

[A smug Malfoy saunters up behind them.]

MALFOY: Oh, he hasn’t been attacked, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just too ashamed to show his big, ugly face.

[Harry and Ron whirl around, furious.]

HARRY: What do you mean?

[Malfoy hands Harry a newspaper.]

MALFOY: (with a nasty laugh) Hate to break it to you, Potter.

[Harry and Ron look down at the newspaper. They read….

CHAPTER 24:

Those Not Appearing in the Fic, Except For This Bit Here

[…still in Care of Magical Creatures class.]

MALFOY:…kids, ha ha!

HARRY: You--

GRUBBLY-PLANK: Are you paying attention over there?

CHAPTER 31

The Third Task

[Harry has just entered the hedge maze. He meets the huge Blast-Ended Skrewt. As it lumbers toward him, Harry tries to stun it.]

HARRY: Stupefy!

[The spell rebounds off of the Skrewt‘s armor, and Harry has to jump to the side to avoid it. He tries again and again.]

HARRY: Stupefy! Stupefy! IMPEDIMENTA!

[The Skrewt freezes as the spell hits its soft underbelly, and Harry runs down another path. He doesn’t know what to expect. Then suddenly, guarding a junction…]

HARRY: The Black Knight?

[Standing at the junction, towering at least six feet tall, is the Black Knight. The Knight just stares at Harry, leaning on his sword. Harry considers tossing a spell, but decides to try poiteness first.]

HARRY: Um, could I get past you please?

KNIGHT: Who DARES challenge the BLACK KNIGHT?!

[Harry steps back a little at this booming retort.]

HARRY: I’m not challenging you.

[Silence. The Knight continues to stare at Harry.]

HARRY: What do I have to do?

[The Knight stares. Harry‘s beginning to get a little impatient.]

HARRY: Do we…duel, or something? I haven’t got a sword, and you haven’t got a wand…so…

[The Knight just stands there, saying nothing.]

HARRY: You make me sad. But never mind.

[Harry turns to go back the way he came, but the Knight blocks him.]

KNIGHT: None shall pass.

HARRY: But…I’m trying to go in the opposite direction.

KNIGHT: None shall pass.

HARRY: I’m not trying to pass you! (pause) Oh, well…I am now, I guess. (raises his wand) I need to past you, come on!

KNIGHT: Then you shall die.

HARRY: How are we going to duel? I’ll just blast you with a spell before you can draw your sword.

KNIGHT: Will your spells penetrate my armor?

HARRY: Er…

KNIGHT: Stand and fight!

[The Black Knight tosses Harry a sword…from somewhere…]

HARRY: Well, thanks…I guess.

KNIGHT: Have at you!

[Harry pockets his wand and picks up the sword reluctantly. The duel lasts for about ten seconds before Harry delivers a blow that chops the Knight’s left arm off at the shoulder. Blood gushes from the Knight‘s wound, making Harry feel slightly sick.]

HARRY: Sorry about that…Now stand aside!

KNIGHT: (glancing at his bloody shoulder) ’Tis but a scratch!

HARRY: A scratch? Your arm’s off!

KNIGHT: No, it isn't.

HARRY: (points to arm on the ground) Well, what's that then?

KNIGHT: I've had worse.

HARRY: Are you insane?

KNIGHT: Come on, you pansy!

[Harry had been a bit guilty about severing the Knight’s arm, but all sympathy left him at being called a “pansy.”]

HARRY: Fine!

[They have another ten second duel, before Harry chops the Knight’s sword-arm off. The arm, still holding the sword, falls to the ground. Despite himself, Harry feels some grim satisfaction.]

HARRY: There, I think I win. But…Sorry I chopped your arms off.

[Harry starts to walk away, but the Knight hops to block his path again.]

HARRY: What are you doing? I won!

KNIGHT: Come on then!

[Knight kicks Harry in the leg, hard.]

HARRY: Ow! What was that for?

KNIGHT: Had enough, then? Come on, come on!

HARRY: You stupid…You don’t have any arms left!

KNIGHT: Yes I have.

HARRY: What?! Look!

KNIGHT: Just a flesh wound!

[Kicks Harry again.]

HARRY: Ow! Knock it off! I don’t have time for this!

KNIGHT: (still kicking) Had enough yet? Ready to surrender?

HARRY: No! Ouch! Stop that!

[Harry’s beginning to get angry, not to mention sore and confused.]

HARRY: I’ll cut your leg off!

[Harry is kicked.]

HARRY: Right.

[Harry chops off one of the Knight’s legs. Now the Knight is hopping around on one leg, bleeding profusely.]

KNIGHT: Oh, I’ll have you for that!

HARRY: (astounded) You’ll what?!

KNIGHT: Come here!

HARRY: What are you going to do? Bleed on me?

KNIGHT: I’m INVINCIBLE!

HARRY: You’re a nutter, is what you are!

KNIGHT: The Black Knight ALWAYS triumphs!

HARRY: Please don’t make me…

KNIGHT: Have AT you!

HARRY: Okay, fine.

[Harry chops the Knight’s other leg off. Now the Black Knight is just a torso propped up on the ground, surrounded by his own severed limbs.]

HARRY: Urgh. Sorry…Wow, that’s incredibly disgusting…

[The Knight looks around at his arms and legs, then up at Harry, who’s staring at him disbelievingly.]

KNIGHT: Fine, we’ll call it a draw.

HARRY: Sure, fine. Whatever.

[Harry drops the sword near the Knight, and takes out his wand again. Shaking his head, Harry moves down the path, with the Knight screaming after him:]

KNIGHT: Running away eh? Come back here and take what's coming to you. I'll bite your legs off!

CHAPTER 34

Priori Incantatem

The Abbreviated Ending

[The graveyard. Voldemort has just been reborn, and has finished his Bond-villain bit. Harry is tied to Tom Riddle Sr.’s gravestone.]

VOLDEMORT: (to his Death Eaters) You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me. I’m going to kill him now, where there’s no Dumbledore to save him, no mother to die for him…However, I’m an evil overlord who is completely secure with himself, so I’ve got nothing to prove.

WORMTAIL: Master…All respect…I thought the general plan was that you would allow Potter to fight, to prove that you were stronger…My Lord.

VOLDEMORT: Wormtail, WHAT DID I JUST SAY?

WORMTAIL: T-t-that you have n-n-nothing to prove, my Lord?

VOLDEMORT: Exactly. Plans change as circumstances change. My loyal servant back at Hogwarts had more brains than I gave him credit for. Why duel with Potter when I can kill off almost the entire cast in one go?

[Silence. Harry, still muddled from the Cruciatus Curse, just stares at Voldemort, as do most of the Death Eaters.]

LUCIUS: The…entire cast, my Lord?

VOLDEMORT: Observe.

[Voldemort makes a sweeping gesture with his arm to the gravestones behind Harry. A gasp is heard from the group of Death Eaters, along with some scattered triumphant laughter. Harry strains to see, but as he’s tied up, it’s no good.]

LUCIUS: My Lord, if I may…How did your servant manage this?

VOLDEMORT: NEVER question what I or my most trusted Death Eaters do, Lucius! EVER!

LUCIUS: Beg pardon, My Lord.

VOLDEMORT: Besides, it’s none of your business.

LUCIUS: Oh…yes, My Lord.

VOLDEMORT: The point is, our sides are just about even--only we have the advantages of being stronger and not tied to gravestones.

[There’s laughter from the Death Eaters. Harry doesn’t believe what he’s hearing--he’s sure it’s a trick.]

VOLDEMORT: All right, Death Eaters, fan out, choose a victim or two, wands at the ready…(looks to Harry) I’ll kill you personally. But I wouldn’t take from you the excitement of seeing all of your loved ones die first.

[Voldemort waves his wand, and Harry, still tied up, somehow winds up on the other side of the gravestone. He looks, and spits out the gag in surprise.]

HARRY: I…don’t believe this. No, it just can’t be…

[Most of the other cast members are also tied to gravestones. Ron and Hermione are on Harry’s right and left; Sirius is a few stones away, next to Hagrid and McGonagall; the entire Weasley family occupies a cluster of gravestones around Ron. Even Snape is there, tied to a lone monument. And Dumbledore is tied to a stone directly across from Harry. Everyone looks very calm for the circumstances--Ron, Sirius and Hagrid are even grinning a bit at Harry. Harry suspects some sort of foul play with drugged pumpkin juice.]

DUMBLEDORE: Well, hello, Harry.

HARRY: I…All of you…How?…Dumbledore, DO something!

VOLDEMORT: (mocking) “Dumbledore, do something!” Please, desist with the melodramatics, boy.

HARRY: Let them go! It’s me you want, just kill me, don’t hurt them!

DUMBLEDORE: Now, Harry, don’t get all excited.

VOLDEMORT: How can YOU be so calm, Dumbledore? I’m going to kill you as well! Right before I finish off Potter!

DUMBLEDORE: What have I always said, Tom? There are worse things than death. Much worse things.

HARRY: Why are you so willing to do this?! What’s wrong with everyone?!

SIRIUS: We care about you, Harry.

SNAPE: I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, myself…

SIRIUS: Shut up!

MOLLY: Stop it, both of you! Don’t make Harry feel worse…(to Harry) Don’t worry dear, everything is going to be just fine.

HERMIONE: (reassuring) We figured out something that even Voldemort doesn’t know, Harry…that’s how we ended up here without a fight.

RON: And why we’re all okay with it.

HARRY: But…what…THEY’RE GOING TO KILL US ALL! VOLDEMORT’S GOING TO WIN!

DUMBLEDORE: No, he isn’t.

HARRY: Why?

DUMBLEDORE: (to the rest of the group) Shall I tell him?

SIRIUS: Just don’t let Voldemort hear it, Professor Dumbledore.

VOLDEMORT: I’m standing right here! Besides, I’m sure I already know.

HARRY: Know WHAT?

DUMBLEDORE: That this isn’t the way the book’s supposed to end. We’ve got a new author for this little…adventure.

HARRY: So…This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen?

VOLDEMORT: No, the real ending is much more traumatic for you…And I was much more chilling. I prefer that ending.

SNAPE: It’s not as though this one stands. It’s not even real. Just a bizarre little footnote to our lives.

HARRY: We’re not going to die?

RON: Come on, mate…How can we all die in one go? It‘d be pretty anti-climactic, wouldn‘t it?

HERMIONE: And anyway, Harry, you’re guaranteed to make it at least to the beginning of Book Seven.

HARRY: That’s true…But I don’t want you guys to get hurt.

SIRIUS: (nonchalant) Oh, we won’t. I have to say, I’m having a pretty good time…exciting, being tied to a tombstone in an overgrown churchyard.

SNAPE: Well, you always were…No, never mind, that’s too easy.

DUMBLEDORE: Don’t worry, Harry. It’ll just be a little bit of a bump, so to speak, and then we’ll get put back in our proper places in the septology.

HARRY: (still a bit dubious) So we’ll all be okay? For now, anyway?

RON: That’s about the size of it.

HERMIONE: So just don’t worry. It might be a fascinating experience to write about, having a fictional death and all.

HARRY: Sure, Hermione.

DUMBLEDORE: So you see, Harry? It’s nothing. And Tom here gets to pretend that he’s managed to kill us all off, at least once.

VOLDEMORT: How dare you?! Just for that bit of cheek, Dumbledore, I’m cutting off this ridiculous conversation! Death Eaters, form a ring, wands out, get ready to Avada Kedavra!

HARRY: Dumbledore, you’re sure no one will get hurt.

DUMBLEDORE: Yes, Harry, really I am. All of us are going to be fine.

[A bit of a pause as the Death Eaters form a ring around the captives. As fictional death draws nigh, even Sirius begins to lose a bit of his enthusiasm. Hagrid breaks the silence.]

HAGRID: C’mon, now, everybody! If Dumbledore says there ain’t nothin’ ter worry about, then there ain’t nothin’ ter worry about!

FRED: Hagrid’s right!

GEORGE: How about a song, before we shuffle off the fictional coil?

MOLLY: I don’t think now’s the time, George.

ARTHUR: Why not, Molly? I agree with Hagrid. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

MOLLY: Arthur, look at Harry! He doesn’t look all that convinced!

HARRY: Well, I have to say…I’m really not. Sorry, Dumbledore, but the Death Eaters are about to do a fictional Avada Kedavra, and Voldemort is standing right behind me!

[Voldemort’s high, cold laugh fills the air in the graveyard. None of the captives pay him any attention.]

SIRIUS: Well, would a song cheer you up, Harry?

RON: Yeah, why not? Let’s have a song!

MCGONAGALL: What do you think, Albus?

DUMBLEDORE: (pensively) A song…I do love music. It’s the very best kind of magic. And I do believe I’ve got the perfect tune for the occasion.

[Dumbledore clears his throat, then smiles at Harry.]

DUMBLEDORE: Now cheer up, Harry. You know what they say:

FRED and GEORGE: Python! Wicked, Dumbledore!

DUMBLEDORE: Thank you. (continues with the song)

[Fred and George lead the rest of the cast (except for Snape, of course) in the whistling segment. Harry is still a bit too nervous about the proceedings to join in.]

DUMBLEDORE: Always look on the light side of life! (spoken) Go ahead, do the next bit, Sirius.

SIRIUS: All right then. (with a wink at Harry, Sirius sings)

DUMBLEDORE: Always look on the light side of life! (spoken) Come along, everyone, join in if you know it!

[Harry looks at Ron and Hermione, who both smile reassuringly at him. He finally smiles back, ready to embrace this odd turn of events…not to mention the catchy tune.]

EVERYONE: Enjoy it, it’s your last chance anyhow.

HARRY: Always look on the bright side of death.

EVERYONE: Just before you draw your terminal breath.

DUMBLEDORE: Severus, your turn!

SNAPE: I most certainly will not.

DUMBLEDORE: Oh, come along, none of us are going to remember this, anyway.

SNAPE: Fine.

I’m done.

HARRY: I’ll pick up, then.

*And so, here is where this version of the story ends. Harry and most of the people he cares about tied to gravestones in the Little Hangleton churchyard, surrounded by Death Eaters, and singing a cheery song. Good for them. And they all come out fine, in case you were wondering.

SNAPE: Worse things can happen in the Potions lab, you know.

SIRIUS: What have you got to lose? You come from nothing.

DUMBLEDORE: You’re going back to nothing. What have you lost?

HARRY: Nothing!

HAGRID: So cheer up, there, everybody! Give us a grin, c’mon!

FRED: Incidentally…

GEORGE:…A recording of this song is available by owl post.

HERMIONE: I don’t know what this new author was thinking…

HARRY: I know. She’s never going to get her reputation back.

RON: Who do you think would read this rubbish?

HARRY: Dunno. Let’s just finish up.

END