OK first off I would like to say am reluctant to post this as I wrote it at about three in the morning and it has received little to no editing. I would appreciate any advice and/or grammatical aid you may render as i have a pretty bad learning disorder where every thing from about 5th grade up is in there just a little hard to access. So without further interduction I present to you the death of Ginslut.

Ginslut smirked as she looked over her loyal populace and after focusing on layering a mild compulsion spell into her voice she said "My people tonight is the night that I wipe out the pathetic rebellion and ... GYURK!!" She gurgled pathetically as a knife came out of her thought through the back of her neck and a masked man with two eyes on the back of his cloak one silver and one green came out of the shadows.

She watched as the man she thought to be her loyal second in command came forward and whispered in her ear "This for Harry, bitch." And so the Dark Lady Ginslut's reign came to a bloody end as a new Dark Lord one called Green Thumb, rose to take her place. Neville smiled from behind his mask it would be a good reign with free orgy's, g-strings and short skirts being mandatory for hot chicks and stupid people being hung on sight.

 

Vegemite? I think I'll take my chances with the Drop Bear.

I lol'd.

So here’s my weak, pathetic, and probably already done attempt to kill Ginny off. And my first real fan-fic. So yeah; feel free to rip it to shreds.

Without further adieu, I present:

“Romilda Vane Gets Her Man”

The Gryffindor Sixth Years’ Girls common room was empty, save for Ginny Weasley, who was otherwise occupied. Her next “appointment”, Dennis, hadn’t shown up, so she’d taken it upon herself to do the job. All it required was an image of a lighting bolt scar and a pair of glasses to take her to Pleasure Town (Population 115,476 at her last count).

Her climax was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. “Mmm… Colin, you’re early!” Ginny purred.

“It’s not Colin, Gin,” a voice said. The figure moved into the light, and the redhead was able to recognise her features: a prominent chin, large dark eyes, and straight black hair.

“Romilda!” Ginny said. “Um, this is kind of awkward, but I don’t make a habit of it. I was just, you know, trying stuff out, in case Harry ever wanted a threesome.” She sighed dreamily. “I’d do anything for him.”

Romilda smiled politely. “Yes, I thought as much. That’s so like you, isn’t it Ginevra? You whored yourself out to the castle to experiment, to see what Dear Harry would like…” she smirked.

“Rommie?” Ginny asked uncertainly, wrapping the loose sheet around her protectively. “Something wrong?”

“Oh, you could say that,” she replied, the smirk growing larger. “Accio!” Out of Ginny’s trunk flew several bottles, and while the Hogwarts Broomstick made an attempt to grab them, the sheet slipped out of her hands, exposing her flat chest.

Romilda examined the bottles. “My, my,” she said, feigning shock. “Not just love potions, but contraceptives, aphrodisiacs, even Viagra! Does Flitwick have trouble getting it up?” Ginny said nothing. “Explains your high Charms marks,” she said, laughing horribly.

“Rommie?” Ginny repeated, growing ever more concerned. “Do you – err – do you need to borrow something?”

“In a sense,” the witch replied. “Harry – for the next, oh, say – seventy years?”

Ginny was dumbstruck. “What are you talking about?”

Romilda pointed her wand at the redhead, banishing her against the wall. “That hurt!” Ginny spat. “And not in a good way!”

Romilda moved closer to her, revulsion evident on her face. Finally they were nose to nose. “I know you’ve been dosing him on Amortentia, slut,” she said, eyes burning. For a moment, a fleck of brown swam in her dark eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

Ginny whimpered. “He – he just needed a bit of encouragement, that’s all!” she tried desperately.

“Encouragement?” Romilda hissed. “Just the same as Dumbledore, Snape, Malfoy, and half of Hogsmeade did?” She licked her lips, and grinned insanely. “Scratch the Ferret. He’d touch anything with a large enough hole.”

Tears were threatening to escape Ginny’s eyes. “But – but – you dosed him as well!” she said triumphantly. Romilda’s eyes widened and the fleck of brown returned – but this time it remained. Romilda jumped back, almost as if in pain. Suddenly, she clutched her left arm, and let out a small yelp. “Rommie?” Ginny tried, carefully moving away. But the other witch was too fast.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Ginny fell to the floor, hard as stone. By now Romilda was doubled over, struggling to breathe. She turned her eyes to Ginny, and she saw they were now fully brown. “What are you going to do?” she gasped. “Launch bogies at me?” Finally, she collapsed to the ground, curling into the foetal position.

For a moment, there was silence. And then - a chuckle, and an oddly familiar voice. “Well, I suppose it was too good to last.”

* * * * *
​

Ginny’s imagination went into overdrive. It couldn’t – could it? Before she could even try to say something, she was hoisted from the ground, and forced to stare into the eyes of her attacker. Her eyes, no longer dark, but a light shade of brown. Her hair, no longer straight and black, but bushy and brown.

Hermione Granger smirked. “Wonderful thing, Polyjuice,” she said absently. “I’m sure you got a few slaves to turn into Harry, no? Do a little – experimenting?” She performed the counter-curse to the body-bind, but before Ginny could react, shouted, “Incarcerous!”

The brunette looked at the redhead with disdain. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. No wonder you had to practice. Harry would have been very disappointed. Not that it did much good though… a bit saggier than you should be…”

Ginny was squirming as hard as she could, but the ropes held. “What are you going to do with me?” she cried.

“I’m going to kill you,” Hermione said simply.

Ginny was stunned. “But – but – they’ll know it was you!”

Hermione took the time to examine her fingernails before answering. “No they won’t. Romilda entered this room, and so shall she leave.” She reached into the pocket of her robes, and removed a doll – or what looked like a doll. For what must have been the twelfth time today, Ginny’s eyes widened in shock – the doll was Romilda, shrunk down to the size of a child’s toy. “It’s really quite brilliant,” the older Gryffindor began. “A few memory charms, and a good old-fashioned Imperius, and Romilda here truly believes she killed you – horribly”, she said in a whisper, and Ginny shivered. “Once she awakens, overcome with horror, she’ll run to the window, and throw herself out of it.”

Ginny had one final ace up her sleeve. “Harry – Harry, he’ll -!”

But Hermione was laughing. “Whose idea do you think this was, Gin?” she said. “In fact, he’s tying up the final loose end now.” Loose end-?

“Ron?” Ginny said in a whisper, finally allowing the tears to fall.

“Oh yes,” Hermione answered happily. “You were ever so happy to see us together – it got the bookworm out of the way, didn’t it? Too bad your wanker of a brother’s idea of a first date was to grope me in the shower.”

Ginny whimpered as her tears made two long trails down her cheeks. “So it ends – whore,” Hermione spat. “Time to die, Ginevra Molly Weasley.”

Summoning a long broomstick that resembled Harry’s Firebolt, Hermione pushed it with all of her magical force straight at the ginger region between Ginny legs. Her aim was dead on – the tip of the broom penetrated her, and continued through her body, emerging on the other side and impacting against the wall. Ginny let out an unearthly scream, that Hermione easily silenced with a flick of her wand.

“A fitting end, don’t you think?” she said, smiling as she watched the redhead writhe mutely in agony. “The Hogwarts Broomstick, impaled by one too many Brooms.” Smirking, she returned Romilda to her normal size, and watched Ginny in her death throes.

Pulling a bag of popcorn from her purse, she popped them using her wand and settled down on one of the beds. She watched, utterly enthralled as Ginny succumbed to blood loss, her body slowly going even paler than it had been. Finally, after half an hour, her chest stopped even trying to rise and fall.

The witch was dead.

* * * * *​

Up on the Astronomy Tower, Harry Potter watched the chaos beneath him. He could hear the castle’s inhabitants rushing to and fro, shocked and appalled at the four deaths that had occurred in the space of an hour. A smell reached him in the breeze, and he closed his eyes, letting himself relax in the familiar scent. It was nearly a minute before he spoke. “How’d it go, Hermione?”

The brunette witch moved into his line of vision, and kissed him on the lips. “Wonderful,” she whispered sultrily. Harry smirked, and pulled her into a longer, deeper kiss. He pulled away to see her frowning.

“Ron?”

Harry nodded. “Not quite dead yet. Just – shall we say – unlikely to perform his manly duties ever again?”

Hermione looked at him. “You couldn’t do it?”

Harry laughed. “And you reckon you can tell when I’m lying!” She pouted.

“Alright, alright,” he said, calming himself. “Firstly, I shoved his dick into the Vanishing Cabinet, and activated it.”

Hermione giggled, and hit him on the arm. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” he said, grinning. “If the spells works right, it should end up somewhere in Palm Springs, California. Anyway, after that I just severed his head -” Hermione opened her mouth - “His other head, Hermione. House-elves got a bit of a surprise when that turned up in their meat delivery. I left his body outside Malfoy’s quarters.”

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. “The ‘jealous lover’ angle?”

Harry nodded. “That’s how we disposed of Seamus, anyway.” Mocking sadness, he continued, “so tragic that he decided to take poison after killing his gay lover…”

Hermione laughed, before they settled back into silence. They stood there for a moment side by side, hands barely touching, before Harry broke the spell. “So what did she look like?”

Hermione scrunched up her face. “Like a ten-year old with a seventy-year old’s vagina.”

Harry chuckled. “Bitch,” he said.

“So,” Hermione began, moving so she was facing him, placing her arms against the sides of his chest. “Where are we going?” Harry fished around in his pocket before pulling out the model of a Hungarian Horntail he had acquired in Fourth Year. He indicated that she should place her hand on the dragon.

“Tahiti,” he said. And with that, the couple vanished.

* * * * *
​

 

Doctor, the Weasley hate going around is magnificent. It also helps that I currently found myself into a Harry/Hermione phase for one reason or another. Congratulations, the ginger blood did flow...

 

Thanks, Methene. That two hours was worth it.

Not that it's relevant now, but my second idea was for Ginny to fall off Platform 9 3/4 in PS and get run over by the Hogwarts Express. Short n' sweet.

Hmm. Methinks we should start an Annual Weasley Family Kill - Off.

 

Nice one. I was fooled by the title at the beginning but good none the less.

 

Fantastic! Just one problem, was she expecting Dennis or Colin next?

Just a moment that made me go '?'

 

Malaga, I read that to mean that she was due to fuck Dennis, then Colin. Dennis missed his appointment and Colin was due next and she thought he'd arrived early.

 

This is utterly brilliant. My thanks for an amusing Christmas eve.

 

"Oh my god, Neville, it's so big..." Hermione gasped.

"So long and hard..." Padma or Parvati licked her lips, and as she turned around, Neville caught sight of a birthmark on her inner thigh. Probably Padma as Seamus would have mentioned if Parvati had any marks.

"Neville, you seem so manly!" All the girls squealed in agreement, louder and louder as they stroked Neville's sword.

Neville shouted in exasperation, trying to get them to stop screaming, and flailed his arms in the air, stopping when he cut them on something.

"No, girls, don't go!" He shouted, as they started to disappear.

"Don't go!" He sat up with a frown, still cuddling his sword possessively. He got up, and scratched himself contemplatively on the way to the bathroom.

He swore as he put iodine on his cuts, and made his way downstairs.

"Neville, we need to talk." The slightly croaky tones of Ginny Weasley sitting at his kitchen table, probably after doing the dirty with his room mate, had the amazing effect of a cold bucket of water straight down his libido.

Honestly, he wasn't even the one shagging her, but he still got the 'we need to talk' speech. How unfair was that?

He hurriedly pinched himself, and caught the tail end of her speech. Something about dependance on a sword being unhealthy (he stroked Lucinda, to tell her he didn't think their relationship was unhealthy at all) and how, while everyone was thankful he'd killed Nagini, the body count was getting too high to be ignored.

That was a blatant untruth, as he'd only killed his greengrocer, (bastard short changed him!) his neighbour, (the dog was barking too much,) Snape, (no explaination necessary really,) he counted on his fingers, then his toes, but gave up when they ran out too.

"And how do you feel about it, Harry?" Neville asked his oldest friend who was still alive. The position had been filled by a girl from before Hogwarts, but he'd killed her now.

"Um, well... Ginny and I... Mostly Ginny, really, feel you should put the sword in your vault, or on the wall, or in a museum... just somewhere you won't always be... touching it..."

Neville thought about this. It made sense, and would stop people from trying to take his precious Lucinda away, but he had to have one last kill! His eyes flicked between Harry and Ginny, and with an enormous cry, he lopped off the ugly ginger-haired head.

"Hmmm," he said, pleased with his work. "She looks much better this way!"

He patted Harry on the shoulder, happy with the favour he'd done the man, and wandered out the door, intent on finding the best possible wall mounting for Lucinda.

Edit: I used my 'Thank God You're Here' challenge, as I don't want this thread to die.

 

Brutally murdering Ginny is a pastime that is timeless.

Well, here's a short one, that I wrote in about twenty minutes:

Well, there you have it. The Doctor just murdered Ginny.

Hand me a cigarette, because I think I just came.

 

Doctor if I could I would hand you a factory of cigarettes, that instant when Gin-Slut died made me so happy and cheerful inside, makes me want to watch it in person, now that'd be sick. Anyways awesome fic dude.

 

That IS inspiring.
* wanders off, contemplating ways to kill Gin-Gin *

 

Just a short one, but it wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it.
Nice thread by the way.
Here it goes:



He shuddered.
She was touching him.
Again.
It was the most disgusting experience he could remember ever having when Ginny Weasley ran her bony hands through his hair for what felt like the millionth time.
Of course, he couldn't remember much before this. Every moment of his earlier life seemed like a far away dream. A good dream in which he wasn't constantly stroked, petted and squeezed to death by this clinging bitch.

One year.
One fucking year he had suffered through this, just hoping it would stop at some time and always trying to accept that he couldn't do anything.

What could he do, anyway?
He couldn't run away, because she would find him.
He couldn't ask for help, because no one would understand him.
He couldn't protest, because she always thought everything he said sounded oh so cute and didn't listen to what he was actually saying.

But enough was enough: He had to do something.
He couldn't go on and so there were just two options left: Either she had to go, or he. While suicide might have sounded good to him occasionally in the past year, he would definitely prefer to have his live back. At least as much of it as was possible. There were, after all, things that were worth living for.

And so he smiled inwardly, ignoring her touch and devising his plan to get once and for all rid of Ginny Weasley.

*****

A few hours later said girl was sleeping in her dorm, dreaming - of course - her delusional dreams of Harry Potter, when she felt someone gently touching her hand.

She smiled.

The feeling wandered higher, up her arm until it nestled against her neck.
"Harry..." she breathed half sleepingly.
It was now close to her cheek and changed direction until it was touching her mouth. Willingly she opened her lips and felt a pressing sensation against them until something slid into her mouth.
Still half dreaming and afraid to wake up, she reached out with her tongue to graze it. It was a bit strange, a small part of her brain registered. It felt almost...hairy?

But the larger part of her awakening consciousness would have none of it: The kiss was too enjoyable to think about the texture of his tongue.
More and more it slid in, further than she would have thought possible, until it stroked her throat - and went on.
The feeling became unpleasant and she tried to retrieve from it, but with one large thrust it forced it's way completely into her mouth, blocking her windpipe.

Panicking, she opened her eyes and looked around wildly.
There was no one to see.
She choked hard, tried to cough but it was to no avail.
Her hands flew up to her mouth, trying to get rid of what was in there. She couldn't reach it. It seemed to struggle almost like a living being.
Wildly she thrust away her blankets, flailed with her arms and tried desperately to get just one breath in her lungs. Her chest convulsed in coughing motions but no sound came out - and no oxygen got in.
Her skin color changed to blue while her movements became sluggish and uncontrolled.
She fought for what seemed like eternity and after one final thrust her whole body went limp.

Spread over her bed lay the naked and crumpled form of Ginny Weasley, never to take a breath again.

*****

Slowly and silently he went out of the open door of the girls dormitory. The trip down the stairs took him longer than expected. Killing Ginny must have cost him more than he would've thought, but it was worth it. Definitely worth it.

He came out into the common room and smiled inwardly when he saw the bunch of girls hunched together on the couches.
Lavender Brown was the first one to see him, a smile growing as she did.
The girls got up and took him in their midst, caressing and petting him in all the right places. Yes, there, that was a touch Ginny Weasley could've never hoped to match.

He relaxed against the many hands on his body, completely unconcerned about the dead body a few stairs away.
Even if they didn't believe in a tragic death in her sleep, no one would suspect him of it.
After all, who would suspect Arnold, the sweet little Pygmy Puff of killing Ginny Weasley?







A/N: There it is. Killed by a Pygmy Puff was the most humiliating death I could think of. Serves her right for buying a pet in a joke shop.
As the story isn't betaed and I'm no english native, I apologize for the mistakes.

 

Hmm...

I like it.

Good job bringing this back to the public eye--The thread is, of course, full of win.

 

I was debating on this, or an idea involving her and Aragog... ---

Dear Ginny,

Come to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I’ve got a wonderful surprise for you.
Your beloved,
Harry

The ginger haired witch in the Owlery squealed in excitement, the mere sound of which caused several poor owls to explode. For weeks she had been urging her boyfriend to be more romantic. Now it looked like her gentle nagging would bear fruit as she rushed out the castle and past Hagrid’s hut. She spotted a trail of roses immediately and eagerly began to follow them. As she reached the edge of the forest she heard a voice hiss, “Stupefy!”

Later she awoke only to scream as she saw a lecherous grin above her. Immediately she discovered two things: the grin belonged to a large filthy giant and that she was chained to a mossy rock. “I’ve decided to adhere to your desires and went out to spice up our love life,” she heard Harry’s voice call out. Apparently he was under his invisibility cloak.

“Harry! Get me out of here!” Ginny screeched. Her screech echoed throughout the forest causing a poor young acromantula nearby to keel over dead, and a centaur to somehow shoot himself in the neck with his own bow...


Ignoring her terrible pleas he continued, “Since you seem to enjoy potions so much, namely love potions, I decided to see if little ol’ Grawp here liked potions too.” Seeing her horrified face he defended himself, “Oh don’t worry my love, I didn’t give Grawp a love potion like you to me. I decided it would be more romantic to give him a few dozen doses of the Erectoria Potion…basically Viagra for Wizards…Remember the ads in the Daily Prophet?”

Ginny glanced down at Grawp’s lower body to see a massive tree trunk like bulge barely concealed behind a filthy loin cloth. Her eyes widened at the implications of her situation. “Red Hermie is purrty!” the small giant roared with lust as he grabbed her and with one hand impaled her on himself. Unfortunately being the biggest whore in Hogwarts history wasn’t quite enough to prepare her for the meter and a half pole that tore through her insides, forcing blood and internal organs to shoot out the orifices of her head.

A few minutes later a happier Grawp carelessly tossed the used and bloody mangled corpse to the ground. “Me like red Hermie!” Hagrid’s little brother exclaimed. Harry smiled glad to hear that Grawp was improving his English, although he still needed to work on distinguishing names of people and names for kinds of people. Perhaps the promise of the real “Hermie” would help motivate him…

 

Intro thread has priority over everything. Including killing Gin-Gin.

 

Remember all those shitty "songfics" the fangirls like to write...
I've just found the best song ever for a songfic. And as a parody of fangirls incapability of writing anything decent (and not in any way my inherent laziness and lack of creative writing skills) my fic will just be these song lyrics.

You know it
You show it
And the time has come
To shoot you down
What a sound

When the day is done
And it all works out
I'd love to do it and you know you've always had it coming

You know it
You show it
And the time has come
To shoot you down
What a sound

When the day is done
And it all works out

I'd love to do it and you know you've always had it coming

I never wanted
The love that you showed me
It started to choke me
And how I wish I'd said
No too slow
I couldn't take
That too fast

I want you to know

imagination may be necessary to fill in a few details...

 

The Second Task

You know, I was wondering why this thread seemed to have died, then I noticed the the most recent post from CaptianG. That much concentrated fail is hard to overcome, but I'm going to try. This one took waaayyy too long, but it's difficult to come up with something that hasn't been done here before, and frankly, it got away from me a little bit near the end.

Anyway, here you go...



Second Annual Ginny Kill-Off: The Second Task

by Big D

Disclaimer: Not Mine. No Profit. No Shit.

-------------------------------


“I thought you said you already figured out the clue,” Ron exclaimed as he and Harry rushed towards the lake. The Second Task was just minutes away, and they barely had time to get there before it started.

“I did,” Harry returned. “I just haven’t figured out how to survive underwater for an hour yet.”

“But you’ve barely been out of the library in the last month,” Ron huffed. “You must have found something by now!”

“Sure... I, uh, learned plenty of stuff,” Harry said evasively.

That was true enough. Not the part about him spending excessive amounts of time in the library, of course. Actually, he had hardly seen the inside of that particular room at all this year, at least before last night. Studying in private had simply been a convenient excuse to explain away his many unusual disappearances over the last few weeks.

On the other hand, without opening a single book, Harry had managed to learn several enormously useful things in the time since he had won the First Task, chief among them being that flying circles around a huge, fire-breathing dragon was a perfect way to make the vast majority of Hogwarts’ female population weak in the knees and damp in the knickers. The revelation of that happy fact had, in turn, led to a number of other new, exciting discoveries.

For example, he had quickly learned that both Padma and Parvati Patil were extremely ticklish behind the knees. He had even taught himself how to tell one from the other, just from the different ways they squealed and squirmed when he ran the tips of his fingers up the back of their legs.

Equally intriguing was the discovery that Tracy Davis–naughty Slytherin wench that she was–thoroughly enjoyed a good, firm spanking now and then. And that Melinda Bobbin almost never wore anything under her robes. Not to mention the fact that Lisa Turpin was double-jointed, and Katie Bell hated showering alone.

Oh, yes... Harry Potter’s fourth year had turned out to be very educational, indeed.

And while he had trained himself to go long periods of time without taking a breath (much to the delight of his many new sexual partners), he was still pretty sure that an hour was beyond him.

“Where have you been,” McGonagall snapped as he and Ron approached the north shore of the lake. “And why aren’t you dressed for swimming?”

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry replied. “I fell asleep in the library. Ron just found me a few minutes ago.”

She blinked in surprise then gave him a look of extreme vexation. “You mean to say that you have not yet worked out the clue,” she asked disappointedly, shaking her head. “Really, Harry, it was quite simple. When the Headmaster informed me just how the Golden Egg worked, my first thought was that a particularly dull-witted five-year-old girl must have come up with it! Surely it couldn’t have stumped you for more than a few minutes, at best!”

Harry squirmed uncomfortably under the piercing gaze of his Head of House, giving her all the confirmation she needed. “I figured the clue out, ma’am,” he said, a little defensively. True, it had taken him several weeks and he’d needed a hint from Cedric first, but he’d done it. “I just...” a sudden thought occurred to him and he felt a slow smile creep across his face. “I just fell asleep, that’s all. I was up all night practicing the charm that I’m planning to use so I don’t muck it up. Luckily, Ron woke me up in time to get down here.”

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she just nodded slightly. “Very well, Potter. You’d best be off to your station, then... you’ll look quite the bubblehead if you aren’t there with the others when the Task begins.” She finished with a slow nod and a pointed look.

Harry thought that was an odd way to put it, but flashed her an encouraging smile all the same and jogged off, Ron trailing behind him.

“I thought you said you hadn’t figured out how to breathe underwater,” Ron whispered anxiously once they were out of McGonagall’s earshot.

Harry waved him off confidently. “Don’t worry, mate. I’ve got it all under control.”

“I hope so,” his best friend muttered. “Have you seen Ginny or Hermione? I couldn’t find them anywhere, and I know they wanted to be here.”

Harry shrugged. “I haven’t seen anything except you and the inside of my eyelids for the last six hours. They’ll turn up, they...” He stopped and blinked in sudden realization. “We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss...” he muttered to himself. He had wondered about that line in the song a few times since he first heard it, but couldn’t really figure out what it meant. Now he thought he knew.

As they approached the starting stations, Harry glanced at his fellow competitors. Cedric had stripped down to a pair of yellow swim trunks and was pacing a small circle around his platform, whirling his arms over his head to loosen his muscles and bouncing lightly on his toes every so often to psyche himself up. Several supporters from varying Houses were standing not far away, but Harry noted that Cho wasn’t amongst them. He couldn’t quite repress a shudder as his eyes flicked over to Krum. What the boy lacked in skin tone, he apparently made up for in boniness and rampant acne. He kept trying to tell Hermione that the filthy pedo was stalking her, but she refused to listen. To her it was unthinkable that anyone could spend hours sitting alone in the Library for any reason other than studying, never mind the fact that he didn’t seem to ever crack open any books and that his hands were always pushed firmly into his pockets. Harry tasted bile in the back of his throat as he realized that the thing Viktor would most sorely miss was probably his little Azkaban-bait dance partner, who was almost certainly at the bottom of the lake right now, just waiting for her pervy prince to grab her unconscious body by whatever part of her he just “happened” to reach first.

He exchanged good-natured leers with Fleur as he walked past, admiring the way that she just barely fit into her two-sizes too small bathing suit. Once upon a time she had called him a “leetle boy”, but they’d had a chance to get to know each other much, much better since then, and her current nickname for him had changed to something along the lines of, “viens ici que je te saute.” Every time he asked her what that meant, she just laughed and told him that he must be joking, because he always responded to it as if he were a fluent speaker of the language.

Harry’s occasional dalliances with the French champion might have been considered hypocritical, given his low opinion of Krum and Hermione’s relationship, but for society’s unspoken yet universally understood rule...

Seventeen-year-old girl plus fourteen-year-old guy... awesome and brilliant.

Eighteen-year-old guy plus fifteen-year-old girl... creepy and wrong.

He wondered briefly just who she was supposed to be rescuing, then frowned and gave a thought to his own hostage. Why would they pick Ginny? Sure, he was plowing her tight little ginger furrow with semi-regularity, but that didn’t make her any different than half the girls at Hogwarts in fourth year or above.

Except...

He sighed and flung an annoyed glance over his shoulder at Ludo Bagman, who grinned knowingly and gave him a small, significant nod.

Harry grimaced. On the night of the Yule Ball, Bagman had caught him and Ginny in a rather compromising position. The position had involved her with her dress pulled down to her waist, laying on her back with her head hanging off the end of a long table while Harry stood above her, violently abusing her mouth and playing her breasts like bongos to the tune of the most recent Hogwart’s Sorting Song.

He frowned. Now that he thought about it, that girl was into some pretty freaky shit.

Bagman had beat a hasty retreat while Harry was busy coating Ginny’s tonsils with a fresh load of spit babies, but had later decided that the incident had been something of a bonding experience between the two of them, and took it upon himself to pull Harry aside to try to dispensing a little pseudo-fatherly advice. At the time, he had promised to keep what he had seen in the strictest confidence, but the fact that Ginny Weasley had somehow been chosen as the thing he would most sorely miss was proof that Bagman’s word was just as worthless as he was.

Harry sighed in annoyance. Now he was going to have to try and “rescue” a girl that he had barely said two words to that didn’t include: “A little bit higher, love,” and “If you ever try sticking your finger in my bung again, I’m going to fucking break it off.”

Bagman stood and made a mercifully short speech, then told the contestants to ready themselves. Harry took a firm grip on his wand and focused on what he was about to do. It was the perfect solution. After all, it had worked just fine during the First Task, so why shouldn’t it work here?

“Three... two... one... GO!!!” Bagman shouted.

“Accio Ginny!!!” Harry shouted, throwing every drop of magic he could possibly summon into the spell.



Deep below the Black Lake, Ginny Weasley’s eyes popped open as what felt like a massive, immensely strong hand grabbed hold of her and yanked her violently forward. Her mouth gaped in a silent scream as the magically enhanced ropes holding her to the bottom of the lake pulled taught, sending sharp blasts of pain through every joint and tendon in her body as they stretched to the edge of breaking. Not understand what was happening to her, she thrashed madly, trying somehow to escape the conflicting forces that threatened to slowly tear her body apart, but could do nothing to stop the relentless tug.

Frantically, she tried to stretch her arms towards her feet to untie the strong but simple knot that held her fast to the lake bed, but her body was held painfully upright by the spell pulling her towards the shore, preventing her from reaching the mere foot and a half that separated her from safety. As the seconds ticked past, she could feel it grasping her tighter, pulling her arms up over her head, tugging sickeningly along the surface of her skin, small rends beginning to appear in the flesh of her neck and face as the magic pulling on her began to peel her like an egg, staining the dark water with streaks of crimson blood. She felt herself scream uselessly again as her teeth exploded out of her mouth in a ragged fountain of blood and glittering white enamel that shot towards the surface like bullets, accompanied by thick clumps of long hair that writhed like snakes as they flew away from her, stripping her bald.

Even then, the pressure continued to mount. Darkness came as her eyes were yanked out of their sockets, first the right, then the left, leaving Ginny lost in the frigid darkness with nothing but the screaming pain of her body for company. She felt the spell reach inside of her, creeping down the walls of her throat and invading her nostrils, pulling mindlessly at anything it could grasp, anything that would come loose. Her stomach twisted violently, pushing up towards her ribcage. There was a moment of deceptive, almost gentle stillness before Ginny heaved and her digestive system erupted from of her mouth, turning itself inside out like a long, fleshy sock, rancid fluids and the remnants of partially digested meals spilling into the water. There was a sharp jerk as the line of interconnected organs caught on a particularly stubborn set of connective tissues, and for a moment, what appeared to be a huge, rippling snake, all in reds and browns, streamed from Ginny’s mouth like a long flag on a windy day, then tore its way free, whipping through the water to shore.

‘Why won’t I die?’ a small voice screamed through Ginny’s mind, the tiny portion of it still capable of semi-rational thought. ‘Please let me die!’ Her prayers seemed to be answered as a sickening crack echoed through her body and everything below her waist went numb. The skin around her waist stretched unnaturally, a tiny split appearing on the spot just above her pelvic bone that grew into a ragged hole all the way around her middle.

The last thing Ginny Weasley experienced on this Earth was the sensation of water streaming past her face as her torso was ripped free from her legs and went barreling towards the shore.



Harry poured even more magic into the Summoning Spell, twisting his wand like a screwdriver as he focused solely on Ginny. He held the spell for a full minute before allowing it to drop, knowing that if that much power wouldn’t bring the wayward scarlet woman to him, nothing would. The other competitors had already dived into the water and disappeared, and most of those watching were having a good laugh at Harry’s expense. He ignored them. They would see soon enough what he was capable of.

He felt a presence behind him and to see Professor McGonagall step up onto the platform, her eyes full of disappointed kindness and no small amount of pity.

“Come, Mister Potter,” she said softly. “If you don’t know how to reach your hostage then you’d best step aside. No one is going to think less of you.”

He frowned at her. “Don’t worry, Professor. She’s coming.”

McGonagall blinked, then stared at him in confusion. “Who is coming, Mister Potter?”

Harry jerked a thumb towards the water. “Ginny. I used a Summoning Spell on her.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened and a hand flew to her mouth. “You did what,” she breathed.

Harry hissed in pain as something sharp struck his shoulder, digging painfully into his skin. He instinctively grabbed at it, but fumbled it onto the ground as he pulled it free. Frowning, he bent down to retrieve what looked suspiciously like... a tooth?

There was a whistling sound like a dozen little darts screaming through the air that swept through the spot where he had just been standing and his Transfiguration Professor suddenly screamed. Harry looked up in horror as McGonagall’s face and neck was peppered with more flying teeth. She fell to the ground, clawing at her ruined features, a wretched, sobbing wail filling the air.

Dumbledore rushed over from the judge’s platform, drawing his wand and scanning the area for threats. He opened his mouth to speak, then made an odd, choking noise as another object flew from the water and landed directly in his mouth. The Headmaster dropped to his knees, gagging horribly and choking on his own vomit before he was able to cough up whatever had buried itself in his throat. The normally unflappable wizard actually screamed in revulsion and quickly dropped the object the moment he realized that it was a detached human eyeball.

Harry heard an odd sort of splash from the water and instinctively hit the deck again. Just in time, too, as a long ribbon of... something flew from the lake, soared over his head, and landed in the spectator stands behind him, right where Ron was sitting. The youngest Weasley brother was knocked violently back by the force of the impact, then alternated between screaming and puking as he looked down at the disgusting mass of torn and inverted intestines sitting in his lap. Ron grabbed the thing, not knowing that it had once belonged to his now-dead little sister, but certain that he didn’t want it anywhere near him, and flung it right into a group of Slytherins centered around Draco Malfoy.

Ginny Weasley’s guts quickly began bouncing through the crowd like some kind of hellish beach ball at a muggle concert, leaving screams of terror and hordes of vomiting children in its wake.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON,” Ludo Bagman screamed as he ran towards the shore. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BOY?!?!”

“Get down, you idiot,” Harry yelled back at him. “There might be more coming!”

Sure enough, the largest splash yet erupted from the cold waters of the lake, quickly followed by the disfigured torso of a very dead thirteen-year-old girl, which struck Bagman in the sternum with bone-shattering force, crumpling his ribs like a paper cup and crushing his heart to pulp as the impact hurled him a good fifteen feet, straight into the rock-solid barricade that separated the competition area from the crowd. His corpse stuck to the wall for a long moment, then slid to the ground and went still.

Carefully, Harry stood and surveyed the damage. McGonagall and Dumbledore were still down, one clutching her destroyed face and the other running a lavender handkerchief across his tongue like a strip of sandpaper, trying to get the taste of Ginny Weasley’s eyeball out of his mouth. The stands were mostly empty by now, except for the tiny bodies of a few first years who had been trampled to death in the stampede towards the exit. Ginny’s intestines lay draped over several seats, the ends drooping limply into a vast puddle of pooled vomit. Bagman was quite dead, Ginny’s ripped-open cadaver having somehow settled into a position where her face was pushed into his lap.

Harry snorted wryly. “Figures... even dead, you’re still a whore...” He sighed and glanced around again, then said to no one in particular.

“So does this mean that I win?”

(End)

 

Truly a work of art, sir.. Now come over here so I can fuck you..

 

Harry might not win, but you, Big D, do.

I loved it.