Sweet Revenge

The Triwizard Tournament

It was, oh, just around midnight and yet the whole Slytherin House was gathered in the Common Room for a meeting. 

Such meetings were only ever issued by the Prefects, and rarely ever happened (around once ever couple decades). What could be so important to necessitate one of these meetings? Well, at dinner that night, Dumbledore had announced that 1) Quidditch was cancelled and 2) Hogwarts was going to host a deadly game called the Triwizard Tournament. Of course, he said it far more eloquently, but that was the gist of it. 

As of now, Slytherins were grouping in clumps to talk in hushed voices about the new piece of information that the Prefect had given them. 

          "Harry! Harry!" Pansy waves one of her obnoxious neon orange handkerchiefs in front of Harry's nose (she got them just to spite Fornax). 

His eyes snap to their group and he swipes at the offending piece of cloth. 

          "Lo and behold, he's back!" Draco said as dramatically as a Malfoy can. 

Harry threw the handkerchief at his face. 

          "I heard from my father that the Tournament was banned centuries ago and that this is the year they're reinstating it. What Farley said only proves it," he paused to shudder. 

          "What? What did Farley say?" Harry, who had not been paying an ounce of attention to anyone all evening asked. 

Pansy rolled her eyes. 

          "Gemma said that the Triwizard Tournament has had a long history of people dying or getting mauled. She has the list at the front of the room where any Slytherins who wish to enter their names in the Goblet are to write their names. So far, nobody's ventured up."

          "What's the Triwizard Tournament?"

          "Harry! Oh my -you really haven't been paying attention, have you?! Dumbledore said that the Triwizard Tournament is a series of three magical challenges for three different competitors, each representing his or her school."

Harry blinked intelligently. 

          "Well, no one other than the occasional foolhardy Gryffindor is going to enter their names."

Pansy rolled her eyes. 

          "We don't know that, Harry. Also, we won't even have the chance given that we're fourth years and only seventh years can compete."

Blaise breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. 

          "Snakes! Listen up! Anyone who's even possibly willing to enter the blasted Tournament, get up here and sign your names. I'm not waiting around and Uncle Sev wants the list by 1 o'clock in the morning, sharp! So hurry! I haven't got all day!" Prefect Gemma Farley shouts from across the Common Room.  

Nobody moves. 

          "Good," she says gruffly taking the empty parchment. "I'm glad none of us are stupid enough to try."

And with that, she whipped her robes around and strode out the door. 

Instantly, the gossip began and Pansy drifted over to Daphne and Tracey. Harry only heard snatches of their conversation. 

         "...wonder who'll try? I bet...."

         "I'll bet you...twins..."

         "...Aging Potions?! But how..."

He didn't pay them any mind but instead took his two-way mirror and walked over to a shadowy corner to activate it. 

         "Whaddya want, kid?"