First Trial and Yule
As it was, they were unable to rent two-hundred and thirty eight dragons.
This led to a mix of creatures being thrown into the ring.
Dragons, flying seahorses, gnomes, hippogriffs, a couple of accidental acromantulas, some flobberworms.
Everyone except for the unwilling participants enjoyed it.
Hedwig was given a dragon, of course. Let’s just say, Charlie Weasley and Draco were not so happy.
Now, see here, a temporary peace treaty had to be put in place. The officials knew that the bad guys would crash their party if they denied them. Voldemort himself was here… somewhere. Everyone was at risk of loosing their magic.
And, life, maybe. She probably should’ve figured out what the consequences were before entering everyone.
A couple of Death Eaters, the Minister, a strange foreign Polish boy that Harry had some beef with.
(Bellatrix Black lay forgotten in an Azkaban cell, magic torn.)
When it was Draco’s turn, his father exploded the eggs from his seat in the stands, immediately disqualifying him from further rounds.
Draco took his dragon and flew off to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
(Where have thou gone?)
But when it was Voldemort’s turn… well…
The announcer announced “Voldemort” instead of “Tom Riddle,” part of the agreement.
No one expected what they saw.
Fucking Brundlefy.
Words wouldn’t be able to describe the appearance of this… thing.
He stood with the height of a toddler, wrinkles in places they should not be, a couple of growths here and there.
(Was that moss growing off of his skin?!)
The wizarding population stood silent.
Until Harry laughed. Domino effect.
The crowd laughed at Voldemort.
The serial killer. Mass murderer. Brutal torturer. The man they’ve been scared of for over two decades straight.
Voldemort would not let this stand.
——
The Yule Ball.
Considering that everyone was a champion, the teachers gave up on having lead dances.
Hermione was not as impressed by Victor as she would’ve been had he been the only champion. Instead, she went with a very purple Ron.
(He hates his mother.)
Everyone was eager to see who Harry Potter would bring for himself, considering he turned down every girl who’d asked.
It was a dramatic and grand entrance, Harry throwing down a fake red carpet beforehand.
There they stood, Harry, and Hedwig on his arm.
Everyone’s mouth gaped.
Now, it was not because Harry brought Hedwig to avoid the chicks, no. That was to be expected.
It was because of Hedwig’s failed attempt at a human transfiguration.
There was a long human leg extending from her back.
Harry walks down the steps, Hedwig’s human appendage awkwardly bouncing off the ground behind them, thudding on each step.
It’s completely quiet.
Thud, thud, thud.
They almost arrive at the bottom, until Harry’s foot travels too far.
With Hedwig still in his grip, they tumble face-forwards, Harry’s legs flying up curled behind him, nose-diving directly onto the ground, Hedwig underneath him.
Harry Potters killed his date.