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Chapter 518: Charlie’s Help
🕑 Added 2025-02-20 13:34:24 +0000 UTCBecause of a Dungbomb that seemed to appear out of nowhere, the entire Quidditch Pitch was instantly transformed into a revolting mess.
Karkaroff frantically conjured water with his wand, repeatedly rinsing his mouth, but it did little to alleviate the horror. The new version of the Dungbomb had brilliantly resolved its previous flaw of being easy to clean, boasting improved adhesion to its putrid taste. Even detergent struggled to remove it, making rinsing with mere water entirely futile.
Karkaroff was beside himself with anxiety and fury, but every time he tried to speak, the overwhelming stench rendered him dizzy and speechless. His attempts at communication were reduced to fragmented grunts and gasps.
“Oh, what did you say?” Dumbledore asked, stepping forward in what looked like a show of concern.
Karkaroff clamped his lips shut, trying desperately to articulate his indignation.
“Yes, you're right, this is really too much,” Dumbledore declared to the gathering, interpreting—or perhaps deliberately misinterpreting—Karkaroff’s incoherent mutterings. He turned to the crowd and added, “Professor Karkaroff asked me to remind everyone that dangerous magical items like Dungbombs, which could explode in a crowd, are strictly prohibited at future matches.”
“Woof... woof...” Karkaroff sputtered indignantly, his neck craning in frustration. He had, in fact, tried to demand severe punishment for the culprit, but Dumbledore’s version reduced his anger to a mild warning.
“Mr. Karkaroff, try this,” a voice called out as someone pushed through the crowd. It was Filch, thrusting a large bottle into Karkaroff’s hands. “This is Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. Just the thing to clean your mouth.”
Clean his mouth with a mess remover? Karkaroff’s eyes bulged with fury, his dignity thoroughly insulted. He trembled with anger, glaring at Filch, who seemed oblivious to the offense he had caused.
“It has a very fresh smell,” Filch continued enthusiastically, “and I always spray some in the bathroom. Works wonders.”
Karkaroff’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. He hurled the bottle to the ground beside him, his trembling hand reaching for his wand. He intended to write down his demands, but just as he began, Dumbledore announced the end of the gathering.
“Everyone, leave in an orderly manner. No pushing!” Dumbledore’s voice rang out, effortlessly drowning out Karkaroff’s stammered protests. “And remember, guests go first... Oh, Minerva, would you kindly inform the kitchen? The first course was a tremendous success, and I think the occasion calls for a feast.”
“Of course, Headmaster,” Professor McGonagall replied smoothly. “I’ll see to it immediately.”
Under Karkaroff’s incredulous glare, the students began filing out, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Fred and George were among the first to dart out, weaving through the crowd with practiced agility.
“I’d have thrown it right at him,” Fred said with a grin as they left the Quidditch Pitch. “Who knew he’d actually open his mouth?”
George burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “I don’t think he’ll be able to eat anything for days.”
“Or a week...” Fred quipped.
The twins exchanged a glance and dissolved into fresh peals of laughter.
Meanwhile, the Champions—Kyle, Fleur, and Krum—were escorted back to the Changing Rooms. The familiar space was waiting for them when Ludo Bagman entered, looking unusually preoccupied.
“Well done, all of you,” Bagman said, though his distracted demeanor betrayed little enthusiasm. “Now, I have just a few words.”
“The second event will take place at 10 a.m. on February 27th,” he continued. “You’ll have plenty of time to rest until then. However, we’re leaving you with a riddle to solve. The clue to the next stage is hidden in the stone you received earlier. Work it out, and you’ll be ready for the next challenge.”
“Understood? Good. You’re free to go celebrate now.”
...
Kyle left the Changing Rooms, stepping out into the cool evening air. Just outside the door, he spotted Madame Maxime waiting. Fleur emerged moments later, and without hesitation, led her headmistress away. Meanwhile, Krum, looking worse for wear, was escorted to the Hospital Wing by one of the Durmstrang students, where he would need some time to recover.
Kyle didn’t have to go far to find Kanna. She was waiting nearby, and the two began walking across the field together, their conversation light and lively. As they entered the castle, the sound of hurried footsteps caught their attention.
“I can’t believe how dangerous those tasks were!” exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, rushing up to them. Her voice was shaky, and her expression still bore traces of alarm.
“Mum, Kyle handled everything perfectly,” said Charlie Weasley, approaching with a reassuring smile. “Don’t forget, he’s currently the highest-scoring Champion, with almost full marks.”
“Yes, you’re right...” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling Kyle into a warm hug. “You did so well—I always knew you could handle it. But honestly, Dragons? These tasks are far too dangerous. You’re all just kids.”
Charlie hesitated, tempted to remind her that Kyle had worked with Dragons long before entering the tournament, thanks to his time with Newt Scamander. But seeing how distressed his mother already was, he wisely chose to hold his tongue. Instead, he stepped forward to hug Kyle as well.
“I was hoping it might help,” Charlie said with a sigh.
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked, his brow furrowing.
“The Swedish Short-Snout,” Charlie explained. “When they were deciding which Dragons to use, I suggested the Short-Snout—specifically the one you and Mr. Scamander rescued. I thought it might recognize you and make things a bit easier.”
Kyle’s eyes widened in surprise. “You chose the Swedish Short-Snout on purpose?”
“I just made a suggestion,” Charlie clarified. “They were leaning toward using the two Horntails instead. But it doesn’t matter now. From the way the Short-Snout acted, it didn’t seem to recognize you.”
Kyle glanced around cautiously, then lowered his voice. “No, you’re wrong. It was very effective.”
“Oh?” Charlie’s eyes lit up with interest, but before he could press for details, the sound of voices echoed from the Great Hall as a group of people entered.
Charlie straightened up, masking his curiosity. “Congratulations on completing your first task, Kyle,” he said, clapping his younger brother on the arm and shifting the conversation back to safer ground. “I’ll try to be here for the second task if I can get the day off.”
Turning to Mrs. Weasley, he added, “Mum, I have to go.”
“Already?” Mrs. Weasley asked, her frown deepening. “Can’t you stay for dinner? It won’t take long.”
“I’m afraid not,” Charlie replied, shaking his head. “The Dragons are getting restless. They’re highly agitated, and we need to get them back under control.”
As if on cue, a deafening roar echoed from just outside the castle.
“Oh dear, that’s my cue,” Charlie said with a grimace. He gave a quick wave to his mother before dashing out of the castle, his hurried footsteps fading into the distance.
Left in the entrance hall, Mrs. Weasley lingered for a moment to give Kyle a few last pieces of advice, her tone equal parts affectionate and anxious. Afterward, she bid him farewell and began heading upstairs, mentioning her plans to visit Ginny and Ron before leaving Hogwarts.
