The First Task
It was not only the day, but the moment of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament being hosted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had arrived. Students poured out of the castle and made their way down to the stands that surrounded the dragon arena. Harry and Hermione were invited to join Fred, George and the rest of the Weasley clan in one of the Champions' box seat sections that were near the judges' box.
"You sit here, Harry dear," Molly instructed. "Ginny you can sit beside him..."
"Uh, Mrs. Weasley, I'd prefer Hermione sitting next to me," Harry said.
Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to hear Harry as she continued to guide Ginny to the spot next to Harry and then she suggested Hermione could sit on the other side of Ginny.
Finally, after several similar attempts, Hermione rose from her seat and sat down on Harry's lap. "There, now Ginny can have any seat she wants," she said to a frowning Molly Weasley. As Hermione returned Ginny's glare, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand. She raised her eyebrows at youngest Weasley so Ginny would understand that she would use the wand if necessary.
"Here," Harry said as he pulled out his and Hermione's omnioculars they had purchased at the World Cup. "These will help."
They were soon settled, ready for the events to begin. All hoping that Ron would make it through the event unharmed.
Ron strolled confidently into the Champion's tent. As he looked around, he could see the rest of the Champions were already there. 'Excellent, I got to make my entrance.' He thought. 'Now I wonder what the challenge is going to be? Maybe another giant chess set.' Ron cleared his throat loudly, but then pretended to be interested in something written on a notice posted in the tent.
When no one said anything, he cleared his throat again. He kept his head looking at the wording but his eyes darted back and forth waiting for someone to say something.
"Thunk", step, "THUNK", step. "About time you showed up, Weasley," Moody said as he put a firm hand on Ron's shoulder.
"One sec," Ron replied as she tried to act nonchalant. "I want to finish reading this," he motioned to the sign he hadn't really read a word of.
Without taking his good eye off of Ron, the fake Moody swiveled his magical eye toward the sign. There were three words written in large letters. "CHAMPIONS MEET HERE!" Moody sighed and pulled the young man after him. "Come with me, Weasley, I need to talk to you."
'Maybe he wants an early autograph, or to join my fan club,' Ron thought. "Sure Professor."
Professor Moody led him outside. After making sure no one was listening, he turned to the redhead. "Got your plan, Weasley?"
"For your Dragon?"
"That's just a rumor professor, I'm sure they wouldn't give us dragons," Ron said confidently.
The pain that came crashing down behind Crouch's eyes was excruciating and his hand came up to his face. After two long breaths he managed to keep himself from killing the boy. "Mister Weasley, do you see this eye?" His magical eye whirled around in its socket.
'Yeah and it's creepy,' Ron thought.
"I can guarantee there are dragons, Mister Weasley," his eye spun to spot behind him toward the arena. "I can see them."
"Oh, well okay," Ron said with a shrug.
"So got a plan?" Moody asked hopefully.
"Of course," Ron replied with conviction.
"Want to share?" Moody asked gruffly.
"Simple. I'll just wait for it to happen," Ron said.
Moody thought about that answer, 'Did I miss something?' He wondered. "For what to happen, Weasley?"
"It. You know, the whatever is going to happen to happen."
Professor Moody's headache was getting increasingly worse. 'Would it do any good to ask?' he pondered, but he knew had to. "What the heck does that mean, Weasley?" He growled.
"You know, IT!" Ron exclaimed. "Whenever Harry and I faced dangers, something always happens. I just have to wait for it. Be patient," Ron replied smiling at his DADA professor. "When we faced Quirrell, we were able to kill him just by touching him and when we fought the basilisk, Fawkes brought us the sorting hat and gave us the sword. Don't worry, Professor, it'll happen."
Barty Crouch JR., AKA Professor Moody, suddenly wondered if his Master could find him if he amputated his left arm and moved to Australia. 'Maybe if I confund Cedric in the maze, I can still get Harry into it,' he thought. 'Potter seemed to like the older Hogwarts' Champion.'
"Yeah, good plan Weasley. Good luck there," Professor Moody replied finally and then stomped off, wishing he had brought the bottle of Firewhisky with him.
"Professor, don't you want an autograph?" Ron called after the retired Auror. 'He didn't hear me; I'll give him one after the task.'
When Ron reentered the tent, he could see how nervous the other champions were and that brought a smile to his lips. 'I'm definitely going to win today,' he thought.
A minute later, Ludo Bagman entered the tent. He moved to the center and addressed the Champions. "Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "Now that the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag," - he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er -varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else, too... ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg!"
Ron had been glancing at the Veela girl while tuning out most of what Bagman had to say. He knew he'd figure it out with no problems. Unfortunately, he missed most of what Bagman had said. He only recalled "You'll select what you are going to face and get the golden egg."
Bagman shook the purple silk sack once more and then opened the neck.
"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.
The Beauxbatons champion put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number three around its neck. Krum was next and pulled out a scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number two around its neck. Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came a blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck.
Finally, the bag was offered to Ron, who plunged his hand into the bag and pulled out a small little dragon with spikes on its tail. It had a number four around its neck.
Ludo whistled, "A Hungarian Horntail. Nasty beast."
Ron looked down at the dragon in his hand and chuckled to himself. 'This is the dragon? We have to get by a four inch dragon? Told them it wasn't going to be anything to worry about. And I get to go last. Excellent! I can show them what I can do.' He looked at the little dragon again. The little Horntail belched flames up at him, burning the tip of Ron's nose. "Ouch! You bloody little arse," he yelled at the dragon. 'Wonder if I win if I kill it right here and now?' he asked himself. 'Nah, better wait and do it in the arena. Let Harry and Hermione see me kill the 'dragon' they were trying to frighten me with.'
Bagman left to do the commentating, but it wasn't very long before Cedric was called out to compete. Ron thought Ludo must be exaggerating to make it sound more exciting as he heard his play by play.
"Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow!". . . "He's taking risks, this one!". . . "Clever move - pity it didn't work!"
'Maybe Cedric is hamming it up to get more points,' Ron thought. 'Or maybe he let it get away.'
After another fifteen minutes Ron heard the roar of the crowd.
Victor was called out next and it took him another fifteen minutes to get through his task as well.
As Fleur neared the tent flap waiting to be called, Ron strolled over to her. "Hey Veela, what do you say you and I grab a couple of butterbeers after this and party?" He then swatted her arse just to make sure she knew he was interested.
To say the part Veela was pissed would be like saying Ron liked to eat. The order of magnitude far eclipsed the actual words that can be used. She turned to face the redhead as fire danced in her eyes. As she continued to stare at Ron, her fingers started to elongate until they transformed into talons while her skin sprouted feathers. At the same time wings formed on the Veela's back, fireballs materialized in each of her hands. Just as she was about to raise her hand to throw her flames, her name was called. She gave Ron one last look filled with obvious desire to kill, destroy and mutilate before turning and flying off for the Arena.
'That chick is so hot and she's got it bad for me. Couldn't keep herself under control,' Ron thought as he watched his date fly away. 'Definitely going to be a good party tonight.' He sat down on a stool and listened to the commentary while he waited for his turn.
"What? Oh Merlin!" The voice of Ludo Bagman came over the suddenly hushed crowd noise. "Someone protect the Dragon! Aaah. Oh that's a mess. Well, Fleur Delacour was the first to her egg at ... ten seconds. Everyone take a break while they clean that up."
It was another half hour before Ron heard his name called. He pulled out his newly polished wand and, with his dragon in his hand; he strolled out of the tent and into the arena. He had heard that Fleur had got her egg in ten seconds, so he knew he had to be fast. So as soon as he entered the arena, he threw his dragon to the ground and stomped on it. 'Dragon dealt with,' he thought. 'Now to find the egg.' As he turned to face the rest of the arena, Ron realized he didn't need to find an egg. As he looked at a fifty foot tall, real HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL dragon in front of him, Ron Weasley, Triwizard Tournament Champion, laid his own egg. It was browner in color, but he followed it shortly with a liquid yellow coating.
Ron saw a glint of yellow his subconscious presumed was the golden egg, but his conscious mind was too busy looking at every single tooth that the dragon had, along with the flames coming out of its mouth, and the tail that was lined with spikes all down it to really care about anything else. 'Why didn't someone tell me?' He mentally cried out as the dragon roared her dislike of being chained to the ground. 'Where's the chess set? Or catching a key to get through a door? Why does Harry always get the easy ones?'
Ron did the only thing he could think of. It's what he always does when he was nervous, or terrified, or happy, or sad, or melancholy, or any other time for that matter. He reached into his robes and pulled out the bag of snacks and ate.
When Hermione covered her eyes with her hands, Fred asked if he could borrow her omnioculars. She immediately handed them over and buried her face into Harry's shoulder. "He's going to die," she kept repeating.
Though Harry wanted to comfort her, he was pretty much of the same mind as he watched his old friend.
Fred on the other hand, had the omnioculars trained on his brother. Suddenly, he lowered the viewing device. "George," he asked as turned to his brother. "What did you do with that bag of candy we had this morning?"
"Uh... not sure. I think I left it in the common room," George answered. "I didn't want... someone," he motioned his head toward his mother who was watching the proceedings anxiously, "to find them. Why?"
"I think Ron's got it," Fred said, handing the omnioculars to his brother.
George studied the scene for a couple of seconds. "You're right. That's it alright. Oh... oh no!" He exclaimed as he moved a lever on the omnioculars and zoomed in closer. "He's eating them, lots of them!"
"More than one?" Fred asked.
"At least six," George replied as he lowered the omnioculars and stared at his twin brother.
"Uh oh." They said in unison.
Harry had been listening to the twins, and turning his own omnioculars to his friend, he asked, "What's going on guys?"
"Shhh..." Fred replied with a quick glance at his mother. Then he continued in a loud whisper. "We've been working on a new prank candy called Canary Creams."
"They're really cool," George added. "They turn the subject into a canary for a few seconds and then they molt, and turn back to normal."
"So what's the problem?" Harry asked.
"If you eat more than one at a time, you get a... uh, molting problem," Fred explained. "It also causes the effects to last minutes instead of seconds."
Ron had just crammed several of the delicious creams into his mouth and his thoughts had just returned to the large problem in front of him when IT happened. He at first didn't notice when his skin started turning into yellow feathers, but when his feet changed into bird feet, and especially when he saw a large beak extend out from his face, he knew something was wrong. He looked down at his arms and found they weren't arms anymore; they were yellow feather-covered wings.
Ron Weasley, Triwizard Champion, was now a five and a half foot tall, bright yellow Canary. Ron only had one answer for being a canary. He let out a scream.
"TA WEET, TA WEET!"
Starting immediately after this day, dragon researchers spent years trying to figure out what it was exactly about a five and a half foot tall yellow canary-looking creature causes Hungarian Horntail dragons to go absolutely berserk. The only thing that they could determine was there used to be some yellow creature similar in size that was the mortal enemy of the Horntail and the urge to kill it was implanted into its genetic makeup, overwhelming all other instincts.
With a shrug and a deafening roar, the Hungarian Horntail broke free of the massive chain that held her in place. Her spiked tail whipped ferociously through the air knocking her eggs all astray including the golden egg which ended up in the center of the arena. The mother dragon then took off in pursuit of the Yellow Canary Creature spilling fire left and right.
Molly Weasley, realizing her son was in mortal danger, leapt out of her seat and jumped into the arena. She immediately started running after the dragon with her wand raised shouting, "Stay away from my Ronnikins you bad dragon!"
Ron Weasley was not an athletic person; in fact lazy was a far more apt term, but when a fifty foot Hungarian Horntail dragon was in pursuit of him, he found he could run. He could run extremely fast, especially on those scrawny bird legs. For the next ten minutes, every person in the arena watched as the Horntail chased the yellow canary around the arena while the dragon itself was being chased by an irate Molly Weasley. Every spell cast in trying to subdue the crazed dragon either by dragon handlers or Molly Weasley just bounced off the dragon's hide and the weird redhaired woman chasing the dragon chasing the canary creature continued. In an unfortunate turn of events, the canary happened to look into the seats right next to the judges stands where Hermione was sitting on Harry's lap with her head buried in his shoulder, and he was holding her closely.
Since he wasn't in the castle, the switching spell did not take effect, and the full Methane, Hydrogen, Oxygen and Sulfur mix came pouring out of the Triwizard Champion Canary at an explosive rate. The discharge coincided with a well-aimed flame burst from the hot-in-pursuit Horntail dragon. Though Newton's Third Law is not commonly known in the wizarding world, it was truly in effect at that moment as the yellow canary took flight on top of an explosive jet of flames. Most of the witnesses say it topped out at around twenty-five feet, at which point another one of nature's laws came into effect. Gravity. Though the canary beat his wings as hard as he could, the wings were not sufficient to carry the weight of that size a canary. The yellow bird creature plummeted back to the ground where it came to rest on top of the golden egg right in the middle of the arena.
"POP!" Went the flashbulb.
It was at that moment the Canary Creams' effects wore off and, as Ron converted back into a person, the molting problem Fred and George had mentioned became apparent to Harry as well as everyone else in the stadium.
Ron Weasley, Triwizard Champion, sat upon his golden egg totally naked.
Dragon handlers rushed to subdue the Hungarian Horntail who was much more passive now that the five and a half foot yellow creature was gone. The stadium was silent as they took in the sight and through that silence came "POP!", "POP!", "POP!" as more flashbulbs exploded as cameras recorded the picture for all posterity.
Finally, a huffing and a puffing Molly Weasley caught up to her son who sat upon his egg with a glazed looked in his eyes as he stared at some speck of dirt in front of him, but not really seeing anything at all. Madam Pomfrey later discovered that not only had the fall from twenty-five feet broken a few bones, but the flesh of Ron's buttocks had been seared so badly that they had sealed around the golden egg when the two had made contact after that long of a fall. This is not to mention the additional discomfort he felt when a more sensitive area just in front of the buttocks also contacted the metal egg while the body was descending from that height.
Molly Weasley, in desperation to get her son to the medical tent, levitated her son to an upright position and it was at that moment when he, in his naked splendor with a golden egg stuck firmly to his arse, was in perfect view of every student, teacher and honored guest at Hogwarts, that any chance of Ron Weasley ever getting a date with any witch at the school died forever.
From the Slytherins it came first. And then the Ravenclaws, and then the Hufflepuffs, and finally the Gryffindors the laughter came. It grew and grew. Eighteen people later reported to the medical wing due to broken ribs from laughing too hard. Another twelve for broken bones suffered from falling out of the stands from the same laughter.
Harry and Hermione rushed to the medical tent to see how he was doing, only to draw up short when they heard the nurse tell his mother about the injuries.
"The broken bones will be no problem, but we have to let the swelling in his…uh... rear go down before we can remove the egg," she was saying. "And until the egg is removed, we can't treat the burns magically. The uh…shrinkage in his privates we aren't sure about, but they might be because of the fall."
"What do you mean?" Molly asked. "I didn't see anything different about his privates."
"Oh...well in that case…" That was all Harry and Hermione wanted to hear. As they turned to leave, they almost bumped into Professor McGonagall who, from the greenish tint on her face, had heard the same diagnosis. They quickly apologized and dashed back to their seats to await the scoring.
They got back just in time to see Madame Maxime raise her wand and a silver ribbon shot out of it. It twisted itself into a large three.
Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a two into the air.
Dumbledore raised his wand and sent a four into the air.
Ludo Bagman – one.
Karkaroff raised his wand, paused for a moment, and then the ribbon shot out of his wand as well. The ribbon had only traveled several feet before it broke into two pieces. One formed into a horizontal line while the other formed a large three. The two together made a negative three.
"Impressive," said Hermione as she stared at the scores.
Harry looked at his girlfriend. "But those scores were horrible."
Hermione looked at Harry in confusion, and then realization hit her. "Oh! I wasn't talking about the score; I meant it was impressive that Karkaroff knows what a negative number is."
When Ron the yellow canary had been launched onto a jet of flames, Harry and therefore Hermione leapt to their feet. Now when a fourteen year old boy, or even a fifty year old man, has had a beautiful young lady on his lap for a couple of hours, certain… uh…adjustments have to be made when they stand up. Harry made the adjustments with alacrity and looked on in horror at his friend's predicament. But people seeing that motion later recounted that Harry had performed wandless magic and it was that action that saved Ron Weasley's life. As the story grew over time, Harry was given credit for transforming Ron back into a person, saving everyone in his box from certain death and, in a mix-up between two stories, it was said he charged the rampaging dragon with the sword of Gryffindor in his hand and single-handedly slaughtered it in front of the whole school.
Back in a curtained off section of the medical tent, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy looked down upon their only son. Draco's head had not been re-bandaged this time as the injuries to the Weasley kid had taken priority due to the severity. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey had been able to administer a pain and sleeping potion before hurrying off. As the elder Malfoys took in the sight that was their only son, they noticed the black burns that were at the top of his head, how his eyebrows no longer existed and now the top of his left ear seemed to have melted. As Lucius pondered the events of the previous couple of hours that had led to this, he couldn't help wonder how much he would have to pay the Bulstrodes to get Millicent to marry his son now.
Lucius was sitting with his son in the stands of the dragon arena. When they had taken their seats in an obviously Slytherin section, every single Slytherin in the area had got up – no that was understatement - they had scrambled head over heels in an attempt to distance themselves from the Malfoys.
"So Draco," Lucius started to his son. He was having a hard time looking at him with all the bandages covering his head. "Why does everyone leave when you approach?"
"I don't know, Father," Draco whined. "But I am sure it's Potter's fault."
"What makes you think that?"
"It's always his fault!" Draco replied.
"So," the elder Malfoy said cautiously. "You think Harry Potter is the reason for this, because he is always the reason things happen?"
"Of course," Draco spat.
"I see. Well, let's enjoy the competition, shall we?"
"Yeah, I get to see the blood traitor get eaten by a dragon," Draco smiled.
"Draco, remember. It's families who keep 'unsatisfactory company'. Not blood traitors," Lucius informed his son.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. When are you going to buy me a Firebolt? Potter has one," Draco replied.
"Yes, you've told me several times about Potter's Firebolt," Mr. Malfoy said through gritted teeth.
The two of them watched as the event started. Cedric had come out and transfigured a rock into a dog, which had worked pretty well until the dragon changed its mind and went after Cedric instead of the dog. But the young man got his egg and was applauded accordingly, except by Draco Malfoy.
"A dog?" He sneered. "I would have transfigured the rock into an elephant or something."
Lucius glanced at his son before nausea forced him to turn away as remembered the letter he had got from Professor McGonagall a month ago saying his son still was having trouble turning a beetle into a button which most students mastered in their second year.
The next contestant, Victor Krum, hand sent a pretty good conjunctivitis curse at his dragon, which would have been excellent if the dragon hadn't gone into a rage and destroyed a good portion of its eggs.
"If it had been me," Draco had started again. "I'd have done a stinging hex up its nose and then blinded it after it moved away from its eggs."
Finally, the Beauxbatons champion made her appearance. Lucius had known that the young woman was part Veela, but never expected her to appear in full transformation. He knew it required extreme anger for such transformations to occur, even more so for a partial blooded one. Whatever had angered her, the dragon took the brunt of it. Lucius was sure he counted eight fireballs in less than five seconds, all delivered directly between the poor, unsuspecting Welsh Green dragon's eyes. The head had exploded, raining blood and gore over the dragon handlers. The Veela had then grabbed her egg and transformed back into a young, attractive blond woman.
"Mixed breed just had to show off," Draco had started up again. "Pathetic! Can't even do real magic."
Lucius sighed heavily. 'I wonder if I should have a paternity verification test performed,' he thought. 'There is just no way he came from my loins.' Lucius wasn't a fan of mixed breeding. He truly believed Pure Blood wizards and witches were superior in every way, but he really didn't want to get on the wrong side of a Veela as evident by the bloody mess in the middle of the arena.
As his son continued to rant and rave, blaming every misfortune that had ever happened to him on that 'damn Potter' and his 'mudblood whore,' Lucius remembered why September first had become a very happy day in the Malfoy family. He got up from his seat, telling Draco he was going to find a loo. He really just needed a break and truly desired a glass of Firewhisky. 'Maybe Snape brought a bottle with him.'
Fortunately, Snape had remembered the bottle and the two of them were enjoying their third glass when the final champion had entered the arena. Watching the dragon chase the oversized canary around the arena was extremely funny, especially when the two of them were too drunk to care. Neither of them noticed that one of the stunners that Mrs. Weasley had sent after the dragon had bounced off it and hit Draco squarely in the chest. No one seemed to notice the bandaged-headed young man slump over the railing and into the dragon pit. Nor did anyone notice when the extremely angry Horntail missed a TA WEETing canary with a stream of fire that had hit a lump of white bandages laying on the ground just next to the stands. It was only after the Horntail had been subdued that one of the dragon handlers had stumbled upon the body with the smoldering head bandages and had called for medical assistance. Fortunately, thought the Patriarch of the Malfoy family later, with everyone gawking at the clothesless final champion with a golden egg stuck up his arse, no one noticed the heir of House Malfoy being levitated away as well.
Though Harry and Hermione tried later in the evening, Madam Pomfrey was not letting Ron have visitors in the Hospital Wing. She advised them that Mr. Weasley was still unconscious and would remain so at least overnight. 'Or until we can remove that egg,; she had thought to herself.
They had been able to visit with the Weasley twins, who both were recovering from shattered eardrums courtesy of the Weasley matriarch after she had learned how her youngest son had turned into a canary and almost served as dessert to a Horntail dragon.
"Damn." Harry exploded the next morning at breakfast.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I owe Rita an interview now," he replied as he handed Hermione the Daily Prophet that had just been delivered. It was readily apparent that Rita Skeeter had kept her word. The entire top half of the front page of the Daily Prophet had an enormous picture of a yellow canary sitting upon a golden egg. The magical picture captured the entire molting process as it showed the complete transformation of Ron from canary to human. Fortunately, it stopped before Molly had levitated Ron up. Underneath the picture was the caption.
RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY – TRIWIZARD CHAMPION LAYS AN EGG
(see page 3 for story)
Making up the entire bottom half of the front page of the Daily Prophet was a full moving picture depicting Harry and Hermione's kiss that had been taken in the Three Broomsticks. The caption of that picture read
TRUE LOVE as the BOY-WHO-LIVED is now the BOY-WHO-LOVES
(see pages 4-5 for complete story)
(see page 6 as experts break down his kissing skills)
The story on Ron gave an accurate depiction of his battle with his dragon, including the fact that his mother was chasing after the dragon calling him "Ronnikins." The stories on Harry and Hermione broke down their entire visit to Hogsmeade, including what they had purchased in every store and what they had ordered for lunch. The witches who analyzed Harry's kissing skills were impressed, but also included their owl addresses in case Harry wanted further lessons in improving his skills.
Mrs. Weasley sat by her youngest son's bed reading the Daily Prophet. She'd been there all night. Just as she'd finished the story on Ron, she heard him stir in his bed. She immediately sat the newspaper down and rushed off to find Madam Pomfrey. Since he was situated on his stomach for obvious reasons, and because his mother had position her chair so she could gaze upon her son's face, the first thing Ron saw when he opened his eyes was the front page of the newspaper. He groaned as he saw the picture that adorned the top of the page, but then he noticed the picture that was below it. The one of Harry and Hermione kissing in the Three Broomsticks.
"PPPPPPWWWWWTTTTTTTPPPPP PPPPPWWWWTTTTPPPP TTTPPPPPPWWWWTTTTPPPPPP!"
As Madam Pomfrey and Molly Weasley came rushing back into the hospital wing to determine the cause of the ear shattering noise, they discovered Ronald Weasley, Triwizard Champion, no longer needed surgery to dislodge his golden egg. It had been forcefully removed by the expelling air and catapulted across the room, only to strike the still unconscious Draco Malfoy in the head. Unfortunately for the young Weasley, all the skin that had stuck to the side of the egg left when the egg did. He passed out from the ensuing pain.
Far below, in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Professor Snape was busy brewing the extremely complicated Felix Felicis potion in his office. His cloak billowed as he stood perfectly still looking at the shimmering liquid that simmered in the cauldron. He had been working on this potion for four months and it was going to be ready in just an hour's time.
As he stirred the cauldron twice clockwise, Severus Snape sneered. "When this is done, I'll have the luck I need to get you expelled, Harry Potter. I'll catch you at something and Dumbledore will have no choice. Maybe you'll even be sent to Azkaban." Snape stirred twice counter-clockwise as his cloak billowed once more.
Snape's first hint that something was wrong was the smell. Without any warning, his entire office smelled of dead, rotten corpses smothered in pure sulfur. The next hint was when his office exploded. The flash flame that was ignited by the methane-hydrogen combination set off a chain reaction of other various flammable potions around his office. Each igniting one by one, spewing their contents over the room. Those potions that weren't flammable either exploded from the pressure of the liquids in sealed containers, or the containers themselves gave way under the heat. Responding to the noise he heard from his office high above the dungeons, Professor Dumbledore discovered his pet Death Eater mumbling incoherently under the rubble that had been his office.