Harry Potter and Claire Smith's Adventures: Book Four

A Deadly Competition

Chapter 8: A Deadly Competition

Lightning flashed across the sky as the procession of carriages came to a halt before the great oak doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who were in the preceding carriages were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle to avoid the harsh shower raining upon them. Harry, Ron, Claire, Hermione, and Neville jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps too, keeping their heads down blocking the rain until they made it inside the torch-lit entrance hall.

"Blimey," Ron said, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak— ARRGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped—narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry's feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks. People around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.

"Honestly," Claire muttered, rolling her eyes, "it's just water."

There was a familiar cackle in the air. Harry looked up to see Peeves the Poltergeist laughing as he threw water balloons at his now suspecting victims.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch—sorry, Miss Granger—"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" Peeves cackled, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" Professor McGonagall shouted. "I'm warning you, Peeves—"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" Professor McGonagall said sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Harry, Claire, Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.

"Good evening," Nearly Headless Nick beaming at them, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Says who?" Harry said, taking off his sneakers and emptying them of water.

"I can do a drying spell to dry you both off," Claire suggested to Ron and Harry.

They both immediately agreed.

"Thanks," Harry thanked her after she performed the spell.

"Yea, thanks, Claire," Ron said.

"No problem," Claire replied.

"That's a sixth year spell!" Hermione said in shock. "How'd you learn that?"

"I took a leaf in your book and decided to look at more advanced spells over the summer," Claire replied.

"Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving." Ron said suddenly.

"Me too." Harry agreed.