A hush lay over the grounds of Hogwarts. Everything was still, which was incredible considering the number of wizards and witches present.
Stands had been erected in a ring shape, a testament to magical construction and the sheer speed with which massive features could be erected by the work of wands. The crowd was large enough that it wouldn't have looked out of place at a national football match. Considering the population of magic users within Britain, that was outrageous.
Beyond just students, there were Ministry workers, friends or family of the champions, and foreign dignitaries. But even all of these together made up a minority. There were people from all walks of magical life who had come, desperate to see what outrageous event would (not might) occur this time.
They weren't the only ones. Within the judges box, headmasters and one headmistress from the assembled schools watched beside Ministry officials of varying import. Beneath the tremendous stands was a stage with a bright white surface, upon which all four champions waited, failing as they tried not to fidget.
They had been waiting a long time.
"Is anyone going to actually explain what we're doing?" shouted Ron.
With an air of reluctance, Ludo Bagman stood up and cleared his throat.
"In light of recent events, we've made a practical decision!" he announced. "Given that every task we design ends up being diverted quite spectacularly — which provides the bulk of the audience's entertainment in turn — we've chosen to cut out the middle step."
"Are you saying you didn't make a task for us?" Cedric called out.
"I'm saying that we've opted for an open-ended task," Ludo said. "The scoring is simple enough. Points will be awarded for how long you stay conscious and relevant in the chaos that is due to follow— ten points to the first to go down, twenty to the next to fall, thirty to the one after that, and a full forty points to the last champion standing! Isn't that exciting?"
"You didn't even try!" Ron exclaimed.
"No… No!" Ludo said, chuckling nervously. "We just read our audience!"
As much of a blatant excuse as it was, he wasn't wrong about why the crowd was there. The people in the seats had the look of spooked herbivores as their eyes darted around, trying to see what direction the dragons would fly in from or spot the explosion that would herald a new terrorist attack. They couldn't have been too scared though, considering they chose to show up.
The champions were looking around too, and another wait descended over the scene. This one was more brief. Soon enough, a storm cloud gathered overhead.
It flashed with a big bolt of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder louder than it had any right to be, threatening the drums inside the assembled crowd's ears.
Nothing happened, or nothing seemed to happen, until the assembly returned their eyes to the stage, at which point they noticed three new figures arrayed opposite the champions.
In the middle, dressed like a Muggle bank robber to match his trademark ski mask, was 'Tom Riddle'. His dual wands were out and in his hands, while those with Omnioculars in the crowd could see a manic smile across his lips.
More surprising than his arrival was that he didn't come alone. A relatively short distance to his left was a figure that made many in the crowd shrink back. Some even fled their seats and the stadium, though most were morbidly curious.
It was He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named, Lord Voldemort himself, looking exactly like he had on the night when he ended up on the wrong end of his own killing curse. The loathsome wizard looked at the crowd and offered a horrifying threat.
"Boo," said Death.
The last of the three was barely moving. In fact, although she was upright, she was as still as a corpse, not even her chest moving. The champions winced, the only ones close enough to catch the rotting stench wafting off of her. She had short curls for a hairstyle and an utterly amphibious face, though it now looked more like a toad's back than a toad's face on account of the poor (decomposing) state of her skin.
Beneath his Tom Riddle mask, Harry started to cackle. "Last one standing wins, eh? I like that idea! We'll use it too!"
Ron was holding his wand at the ready, remembering their last run-in with each other. The other champions looked wary as well, except for Fleur, who was busy sniffing the air.
While shooting nervous glances at Voldemort, Ron still found it in him to say, "What do you mean, the last one standing wins?"
Harry spread his arms. "Let me introduce my companions. To the left of me, hailing from the countryside of England, holding the record for the most intersections on his family tree, boasting an oh and one record against newborns, it's Looooord Voooooldemort!"
Predictably, the crowd did not cheer, though many seemed tempted to snicker and gawk over the exact nature of his announcement. Fear ultimately kept their snouts shut.
"Good old Voldie is here to represent pureblood supremacy!" Harry announced. "He's really big on incest. Definitely don't want to see his browser history, if he ever got his hands on a computer. His penchant for cousin-fucking is only matched by my other compatriots undying love for all things Muggle. Give it up for… Dolores Umbridge!"
This time, there were stirrings from the crowd. Many remembered the Prophet's article about her death. Even those who hadn't read it remembered the law that had been penned under her name, briefly plunging the nation into half-blood dominated chaos.
"Didn't she die?" Cedric Diggory asked.
"Only once," Harry said. "But through her unbridled adoration to those without magic, she's clawed her way back from the grave in perfect health for a singular goal— seeing wizards reduced to slaves to their non-magical brethren!"
No sooner had Harry finished speaking that Umbridge's jaw disconnected from the rest of her face, plunking onto the stage. Her eyes showed nothing. The champions squinted at her, but could not see anything except for a corpse.
Harry quickly flicked his wand and sent her jaw flying back up. When it refused to click back in place, he summoned a spool of duct tape that quickly ran around her whole head, locking it in place.
"Mostly perfect health," Harry amended, turning back to the champions. He smiled despite the slight mishap, taking a step forward, which sent Krum and Cedric skittering back.
"Whichever of you stays up the longest, wins the most points. Whoever out of us stays up the longest proves themselves to be the supreme supremacist. Seems fair, no?"
"So… we fight?" Ron said.
"We fight," Harry said.
Or, at least, it would seem that way from the outside. This was Tom Riddle's last stand, as well as the day that would put Voldemort's story publicly to rest. He wouldn't settle for stunners, disarming spells, or even a small explosion or two. This was going to be something the crowd would remember.
That said, there were a few things left to see to as far as setting the stage.
Blue lights exploded from the tip of either of Harry's wands. The bolts bore down on the champions, who raised shields in defense of themselves. They were stellar examples of young wizards and witches after all.
Three shields shattered instantly. One, Ron's, remained firm, leaving him blinking as he saw his fellows get hit by a spell he'd blocked.
Though it quickly became clear that the bolts weren't actually the same. When they struck Krum and Cedric, the boys were bundled off of the stage. Those watching carefully could note that Krum was sent flying a split-second earlier, resulting in Cedric taking a few extra points for the road.
Fleur was hit as well, but instead of being driven off her feet she was dragged across the stage, colliding with Harry's body.
He looped an arm around her neck, one of his Elder Wands disappearing into the folds of his robes.
The position was undisputedly one of a captor and a hostage. It was unusual, though, for the hostage to wiggle and get more comfortable, pushing her plush derriere backwards against her captor's crotch. Harry wheezed, missing a beat as he went to proclaim his plan to the stadium.
"I've got a hostage!" he eventually cackled. "What a villain I am! What now? Will any heroes step up to stop me?"
Ron was looking awfully lonely on his side of the stage. Cedric and Krum were laid out, unconscious despite bearing no permanent injuries. Harry hadn't dealt with them quickly out of any kind of grudge. Sadly for the boys, they were just duplicates.
Pounding footsteps could be heard just off of the stage. There was a brief lull. Then, two hands grabbed the lip of the stage. An attractive pink haired witch hauled herself up, clambering into view before she stood up, pointing her wand at Harry.
"Just try it, villain!" said Tonks.
If she sounded a little too excited about getting to say that, well, no one stopped and pointed it out.
A pureblood and a half-blood stood side-by-side. This was good, Harry mused. But it could be better.
He looked at the front row of the crowd. It didn't take his eyes long to spot a pretty girl there, one with bushy brown hair and coffee colored eyes. Hermione stared back at the mysterious 'Tom Riddle' and his bright green eyes… and it all clicked into place.
Harry formed a mental connection with Legilimency just in time to hear her think, No fucking way—
Hermione. Help us out here, Harry implored.
She wasn't even surprised about hearing his voice in her mind. She was going to disagree, Harry could feel it.
I'll pay you back. Please?
Hermione started imagining the ways she could pay her back, down to the nitty gritty of all the different rubber toys and specific holes involved, before realizing that Harry could still see inside of her head, at which point she slammed her fantasies to an abrupt halt.
Fine, she relented. Possibly so he couldn't blackmail her into it.
Almost before she knew it, Hermione found herself struck in the chest by the kind of bead you'd find on a homemade necklace, sent hurtling toward her by magic on Harry's part. The hastily-made Portkey activated, teleporting her forward, where she landed slightly to Ron's right.
"I, well, um…" Hermione stammered, aware of tens of thousands of eyes on her as she appeared on the stage. "I won't let you be evil… Or something like that!"
She looked around, blushing in the silence that occupied the stadium, and snapped. "Confringo!"
It said a lot about her faith in Harry that she didn't even hesitate to use a fatal curse. Harry grinned, finding that a suitable start to the show.
Instead of creating a shield, he whipped his wand and dragged Umbridge into the path of the curse, at which point a meaty blast ensued. A red haze was created after the muted thump of the impact. Of those on the stage, only Harry and Death didn't look disturbed by the scene, or by the heap that had once been Umbridge, laying flat on her face… Or where a face used to be. Only the fact that Hermione long realized the woman was already dead kept her from screaming.
"Now it's my turn!" Harry said loudly.
He cut loose, and the show that the crowd assembled to watch was suddenly underway, almost overwhelming in its sheer volume.
First, there came dragons. Not real ones— constructions of magic, shadowy in shape and color. They breathed very real flames, flying out of the ground behind the side of the stage where Harry stood. They were met soon after with identical red dragons, which seemed to come from behind Ron. The constructs collided in the air and canceled each other out.
While Ron gawked at the battle ongoing over their heads, Tonks fired what was most likely a stunning spell. Harry manipulated the stage underneath the red bolt flying toward him, making the wood blacken in the wake of the spell, implying it was something far more potent than it really was. He blocked it all the same with a magical shield, though Fleur used the chance to slip one of her hands under his clothes and stroke the skin of his hip.
"That's distracting!" Harry whispered.
"What is distracting, monsieur? Shouldn't you make your getaway with me soon?" she asked.
"They'll have you saved long before then," Harry said.
"And if I do not want to be saved?" Her fingers slid closer to his crotch.
Before he could get any more distracted, Harry hurried the show onward, bringing its second phase to life.
Earth came alive, taking the shape of more than a hundred spiders, each the size of a dog. Even though they were made of clods of soil, their shape alone was enough to make Ron squeal. It was fortunate his voice didn't carry far enough to interfere with the 'dashing hero' impression Harry was trying to craft.
His best mate lashed out with a basic disarming charm, something of a favorite for the youngest Weasley son. He hit the closest of the spiders, but even Ron couldn't have predicted what would follow, watching as all hundred-plus of them detonated, blowing themselves up and leaving nothing behind. The crowd cheered, enthused by such a potent showing of magic.
"It looks like Ron Weasley is still going, and what a fight he's putting up!" Ludo Bagman had finally remembered he was supposed to be commentating what they were seeing, his booming voice now reaching the stage. "Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum are down for the count! Fleur Delacour's continued status is… questionable, but we aren't counting her as eliminated quite yet!"
"I'm getting bored of this," Fleur confessed, utterly uninterested in the event. Her expression perked up a second later. "Perhaps you should have your way with me here and now! I confess, having an audience such as this one… excites me."
With a combination of words and pushing her arse backwards, Fleur had already made Harry's cock hard in his pants, and it was getting increasingly difficult to concentrate. He sped up the climax (not in that way).
An absolutely epilepsy-inducing lightshow followed, with what looked like a thousand different spells flying around, coming so thick and fast that the crowd was helpless to determine which ones were coming from what wands. The only thing they were sure of was it being an exceptional showing of magical proficiency, and that when the volume finally died down Tom Riddle looked to be on the ropes.
There was a cut in his mask over one cheek, and he had somehow lost a shoe. He could be seen to be breathing heavily, which must have meant that he was tired! He definitely couldn't be panting because the hapless maiden he abducted had found a way to squeeze his cock, stroking it while urging him to take her in the middle of the stage. It would be ludicrous to suggest as much.
Ron and Tonks had both started enthusiastically casting spells during the great rush of magic, finding enjoyment in the way everything they cast seemed to come out a hundred times more powerful than normal. Hermione was less excited. She had started casting inquisitive looks at the other bystander on the stage. Lord Voldemort was doing as little as she was, merely looking back when she looked at him.
Curious, Hermione took aim with her wand and cast a simple Color-Changing Charm.
She happened to do so just after Harry had winded down the show, meaning nearly the whole audience could watch her simple orange spell head for the fearsome Dark Lord.
Death watched the spell come closer, then strike its torso.
"Curses. I'm defeated," said 'Voldemort'.
Everything went white.
The flash was so bright that everyone was forced to close their eyes, while the detonation marking 'Voldemort's' death was so deafening it left a ringing behind in the ears of all present.
When eyes were cracked open, they looked upon a mere painted shadow where the Dark Lord had stood, as if a nuclear detonation incinerated his body in one horrible go.
A few in the crowd cheered, though it was impossible for anyone else to hear them, even their neighbors, on account of the terrible ringing still filling everyone's ears.
Eventually, hearing returned enough for speaking to be a worthwhile pursuit. When Harry still spoke he did so extra loudly, the way that deaf people sometimes do.
"What a shame! The half-blood is the last one standing. Who could've predicted that?"
Tonks stepped forward, taking center stage this time. "Let her go!"
Once again, the Metamorphmagus was a little more into this than she probably should've been, but Harry didn't hold that against her.
The hand that Harry had around Fleur's neck turned around, flashing what was in the palm of it— a glittering golden Galleon.
"Did you think I wouldn't be ready to make my escape?" Harry bragged. "As the last one, I've proved half-blood supremacy, if I don't say so myself. There's only one thing left to do… to make a half-breed half-blood to carry on my legacy!"
"You monster! You mean to breed her!" Tonks accused.
"And there's nothing you can do to stop it," Harry bragged. "In one minute, the Portkey in my hand will activate, carrying us to my lair, which has already been prepared!"
Those watching with Omnioculars might have been confused by the dreamy smile that covered Fleur Delacour's face. They chalked it up to a strange manner of expressing her fear.
Tonks took a deep breath. She looked at Harry, seeing the hand he held open, the object laying in it—
She whipped her wand up.
"Expelliarmus!"
From across the stage, Tonks' aim was inch perfect, hitting the coin directly out of Harry's hand. It shot across the stage and into her outstretched hand, while the force of the spell propelled Harry backwards.
An extraordinary plume of blood followed his flying body, though no one could actually spot where it was supposed to be flowing from. When he hit the ground, he raised one hand weakly, with it soon collapsing against his chest. His shadow bubbled over his body, swallowed him, and he disappeared.
Like that, Tom Riddle was gone, never to be seen again.
The whole arena went silent. Ludo Bagman had forgotten to commentate, and for once he found his voice on holiday. It was a slow moving thing, but eventually, the crowd erupted in a cheer, followed by a stream of people heading for the stage.
The Patil Twins arrived first, leaping on Ron and taking him to the ground, giving their hero of the day a heavy smooch on either cheek. From the way they started pawing at his clothes, it seemed like they might follow Fleur's plan and get busy on the stage.
For her part, Tonks laughed, slowly turning in circles, basking in her heroic moment. Someone in the crowd started to chant her name, and it caught on. "Tonks! Tonks!" A laugh burst from her.
Yet soon enough she found herself gazing at the coin laying in her palm. It looked so plain and innocuous. Simply by holding onto it, she would be whisked away, into the clutches of a masked maniac who was far more charming than he had any right to be and who had just brought one of her oldest dreams to life, exactly as he promised to.
Tonks found that she didn't want to drop it. She wasn't even the only one focused on it.
The crowd was surrounding the stage, celebrating the defeat of the villains. Ludo Bagman was shouting something that no one seemed to be paying attention to. Ron Weasley had been chosen as the victor of the event, which no one offered complaints over. Through the chaos, Hermione inched closer to Tonks.
The girls shared a look, then a nod, before Hermione put a finger on the coin. There were only a few seconds left before it would activate.
At almost the same time, a long and delicate finger tapped the other side of the coin as Fleur made sure there was physical contact.
"I will not be going un-kidnapped today," Fleur swore.
Hermione and Tonks understood her completely.
The three girls were content to wait, lost for a moment within the crowd, before Fleur abruptly perked up. She shifted where she stood, visibly searching through the crowd until her eyes landed on a head of bright ginger hair.
She and Ginny made eye contact. Fleur clicked her tongue and threw her head to the side, gesturing the youngest Weasley closer. At the behest of her teacher, Ginerva scrambled through the bodies without question, arriving in time for Fleur to grab her wrist and plant her hand on the coin.
The Portkey activated, carrying the four of them to whatever lair had been prepared.
As it turned out, that happened to be a richly decorated mansion with a view of a beautiful lake. Portraits of blonde and brunette family members were hung on the walls, and they heard the sound of voices. Following the words, they quickly found their way onto a large balcony with five people already there.
"Then he seals the bones away, takes a whole vial of his own blood, and tells me that he's going to make the Triwizard Tournament much more exciting," said Sue Li, sipping white wine from a tall glass.
Daphne brought her own glass — filled with something red — to her lips. "You can't deny, he achieved that."
"He let dragons loose on Hogwarts!"
"Like Daphne said! Exciting," said Harry.
While Daphne and Sue were sitting in chairs, Harry was sprawled across a couch. He was using Lady Greengrass's thighs for a pillow while she carefully fed him green grapes. At the same time, Astoria Greengrass was sitting on a stool near his head, feeding him purple grapes. The mother and daughter took turns popping one into Harry's mouth, and he chewed each one with a delighted smile. He was shirtless, but still wearing the Muggle pants he had during the final event, and of course his mask had been discarded with the final defeat of Tom Riddle.
Tonks cleared her throat, drawing the attention of everyone on the balcony. Sue smirked.
"Told you they would show up," she said, hoisting her wine glass.
"Huh. It seems like hostages still arrived," Harry said, blinking. Still, there was a glimmer in his eyes for those who knew him (and this group knew him as well as anyone) that showed he wasn't surprised in the slightest.
"We are here for what you promised," Fleur declared, stepping forward.
"For the—"
"For the breeding," Fleur said.
She hauled off her top, immense-yet-perky naturals rolling around on her chest in full view of the group.
Sue drained the rest of her wine.
"I knew it would come to this," she said.
She reached for the clasp of her own robes, and the rest of the women followed suit.