Let Us All Make History

Whatever You Do, Don't Freeze

    John stumbled forward a bit awkwardly, running from a door that had just opened and squinting in the morning sun. He was wearing some rather horrible yellow and gold robes; however he gripped his wand confidently and eyed the trolls with an excited look on his face. The trolls eyed him up as well, giving large growls of curiosity as they finally started forward, grunting and moaning in some sort of obscene language. John cast a spell at one of the rocks that was laying scattered about, levitating it so that it came up towards the troll and hit it on the head powerfully. The troll didn't go down; however, it simply stumbled around before regaining its balance and returning to the chase. One of the trolls wielded a large wooden club, and it was this troll that was fastest. It ran to John and took a couple of swings, prompting the poor boy to go on the defensive side of the things. He ducked and hid behind a rock, trying to regain his thoughts before sparking a small explosion near the other end of the arena. The trolls, being the stupid things they were, all turned and looked. This gave John time to take a running start and vault himself onto one of their backs (this was no easy feat, as these trolls were easily twice the height of an average man) and ring his arms around the beast's neck. There was a necklace hanging there, which John unclasped despite being thrown about and swatted at with the troll's large meaty hands. Molly was rather relived at the choice of beast, for however large and brutal trolls were they were also slow and stupid. It was highly unlikely that Sherlock would be killed, unless he was too slow to avoid the large club that was being swung rather aimlessly around. Somehow John had managed to slow the troll he was riding, grabbing onto its ear and climbing up onto its shoulders. The crowd was going wild, and yet Molly still held some sort of nervousness. That was a stupid thing to do, and now it was all John could do but hold onto the troll's head hopelessly as it batted him around and ran berserk. However he had a plan, it would seem, for as soon as his troll transport got next to another one he jumped off of its back and onto the next, landing on its shoulders and holding it around its neck. He unclasped the necklace and then got on top once more, and this process continued until finally he got the third necklace from the last troll, the one with the club. This one was a bit more dangerous, for all while John was on its back it was trying to hit him with the bat in some sort of odd contortion. He came quite close, however he had slid off of the thing's back just in time for it to land the most fatal swing of all. The club, instead of hitting the newly escaped parasite that was John Watson, instead hit the troll in the back of its neck, prompting it to go over in a daze. John ran towards the box before the troll even hit the ground, trying all the keys before finally opening it triumphantly, grabbing what was inside, and holding his hands in the air in self-congratulation as a gong was struck. As soon as John had finished men with large poles rushed into the arena and began to herd the trolls back into the door, obviously going to get a new trio while John was judged.
"He did amazing!" Molly whispered, clapping her hands along with the other fans as the Hogwarts kids went wild. John was jumping around and looking quite proud of himself, his prize in the locked box now sitting safely and seemingly carelessly in his clutched fingers.
"He was slow." Victor corrected.
"Yes but how else are you supposed to deal with trolls like those? You can't just politely ask them to bend over so you can get the necklaces?" Molly insisted, nervously thinking now to what Sherlock might do in this situation. It would seem as though John's method was the only one that would work, however she was sure that Sherlock didn't have nearly the right balance or skill to get on top of those trolls. He would have to do something better.
"I can't imagine they'd just let you summon them?" Victor wondered.
"No of course not, they'd enchant them. That's too easy." Molly muttered, however she almost hoped that she was wrong. Surely summoning those keys would be Sherlock's first step, especially since they had gone over that spell very recently in charms class.
"They're judging him, look!" Victor whispered, gesturing over to the panel of judges that was made up of all three heads of the schools, as well as one or two ministry officials. They must be rated on a scale of ten, because Madam Maxine began by shooting a large, stringy number seven out of her wand, to which the crowd went wild. Karkaroff followed with a five (to which people weren't nearly as thrilled) however Dumbledore gave an eight and the other ministry officials both gave sevens as well. All in all that was an excellent score, and John ran out of the stadium in a fit of mad excitement, to which all of the stands cheered and congratulated him once more. This now left room for the next champion, the next one who would be fed into the arena to face their batch of trolls...
"Our next champion will be from Beauxbatons, Sherlock Holmes!" Dumbledore's voice announced, to which Molly's blood immediately ran cold. She grabbed Victor's hand fearfully, for now the railing certainly wasn't going to be very comforting, and the cheers that erupted stung her eardrums like poison. They were cheering for his death; they wanted to see him get mutilated! The gates opened and the trolls were set loose, these looking much more fearful, they were taller, and this time two of them wielded bats instead of just one. The cannon went off and Molly almost didn't let herself look, she almost closed her eyes as the door opened on the other side of the arena and Sherlock came stumbling out into the light. As soon as she saw his pale skin, his dark curls, and his ugly baby blue champion's robes Molly immediately burst into tears. The poor thing, so scared, shaking like a leaf, oh poor Sherlock! The crowd was cheering, and for a moment Sherlock just stood there with his wand raised, muttering a spell that must be a summoning spell. Just as they had guessed the keys didn't budge, and so Sherlock had to resort to plan B. He jogged nervously up to the beasts, all of which were lumbering slowly forward, growling and looking straight at the tiny boy that was their friend. Molly clenched Victor's fingers she was sure he had no more blood flow, and yet he clenched back just as hard. They were both crying, she knew that much.
"Come on Sherlock, come on!" Molly screeched, hoping that he would hear her voice and somehow get more empowered. He raised his spell and shot a red blast of light into one of their eyes, a stunning spell most likely, however it bounced off the thick skin and instead hit against the rocks very near to Sherlock's feet. And so that didn't work either! Molly was beginning to worry that Sherlock wouldn't be able to do it, and suddenly she saw a horrible prediction that Sherlock would fight these trolls until the sun set, casting spells that only rebounded, getting chased around with bats until finally the judges put an end to it, all giving him scores of zero for him to walk away in shame with. That was probably worse than death in some ways. However Sherlock wasn't giving up just yet, in fact he cast three more spells before he tried one that seemed to work. He cried out powerfully, a spell that Molly could hear from her seat, oh her Sherlock's voice so deep and so powerful... "Immobulus!" And suddenly the trolls froze. They froze for a moment before they began to move once more, growling and moving as if trapped in deep mud, enveloped in slime so that they could only hope to crawl...
"IMMOBULUS!" Sherlock yelled again, and this time the blast from his wand was so loud that suddenly Molly couldn't move. She couldn't even clench her fist, in fact it was all she could do but blink, for she couldn't move her head, she couldn't even open her mouth to scream. She was frozen, they all were. Sherlock froze as well, if only for a moment, and looked around at the crowd to see why they had all stopped shouting. He was confused, evidently unaware of his own power, however he snapped back when he realized that despite the frozen audience, time was still ticking. It may be eerily silent, but he still had a job to do. From what Molly could see through her limited range of vision Sherlock was now approaching the trolls, climbing up their rough arms with some horrible contortion, leaping and clawing his way up their skin so as to reach the keys that were hung around their necks. Molly couldn't see as he approached the box, however she was beginning to turn her head, it was beginning to wear away! The final evidence of the spell fading was the troll's sudden movement, as Sherlock scampered towards the box they began to growl, he didn't notice, that was evident. He was only clutching the keys and running wildly to the box, he didn't notice the trolls as they came back to life, nor did he realize that one was swinging it's bat in his very direction!
"Sherlock LOOK OUT!" Molly screeched, suddenly coming back to life only to lean over the banister and hang into the arena in horror. It was too late, he hadn't heard, and suddenly the club caught him in the back and sent him flying towards the other end of the arena, flying and landing in a heap in the dirt.
"SHERLOCK!" Victor cried, grabbing onto Molly's wrist in his desperate state as Sherlock began to come to, only just in time for the trolls to begin fumbling around him, all growling and looking lethal...angry. Sherlock came to just in time to make a mad rush for the box, collecting his keys and desperately fitting them each into the box's keyhole, scrambling and throwing the ones that didn't work... Finally one of them fit, he opened the box just as the trolls were gaining on him, he grabbed whatever was inside and suddenly the men with poles ran to his aid, leading the trolls away from the panicked boy as he clutched to his prize and shivered madly in a heap on the dirt ground. He had done it. He had survived. Molly was on her feet before she knew it, screaming and yelling in congratulation all while she raced down the side of the bleachers, trying to find her way back to the striped tent where she knew he would be led after his scores were shown. She waited to see Madam Maxine give him an eight, and then Karkaroff with a six, Dumbledore with a nine and the ministry officials each with a seven and an eight! He was ahead! Molly raced down the stairs, briefly aware of Victor following her, tears of relief and excitement streaming down their cheeks as they raced to find Sherlock in the striped tent! Molly raced through the flap to see that he was absent; the only one in here was Sebastian, starting his way down to the arena to face his own bout of trolls. Molly didn't know what he was going to do, however she was quite sure he could never beat Sherlock's strategy. A spell so powerful that it froze not only the trolls but the entire audience as well, that was some serious spell work!
"thirty eight Molly, he's got thirty eight points! John's only got thirty four!" Victor called excitedly, however Molly was only half listening as she dashed towards another tent, one that was white, a medical tent most likely. She heard the crowd cheering and the cannon going off for Sebastian, however she didn't care about him at the moment. If Sherlock was in the medical tent that must be bad, he had taken quite the hit there, in fact Molly could remember him barely being able to walk...
"Sherlock, Sherlock? Où est-il?" Molly exclaimed, dashing into the tent in a mad fit to find that there was only one place he could be. There was a bed set up next to the far wall, separated from the entrance of the tent by a sheet and yet Molly could see perfectly the figures inside. She stormed over and let herself in, followed by Victor who immediately grabbed her arm in something of a state of shock. Sherlock was lying on a cot, moaning and grimacing all while Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse, was bustling around with bandages. He didn't look too good; in fact he looked pained beyond belief. But he wasn't alone, no there was someone there beside him, holding his hand and telling him that it was all going to be alright...
"John?" Victor spat, evidently ignoring his friend writhing on the cot just so that he could be jealous a bit more. John looked excited, to say the least, still wearing his yellow robes all while he clutched Sherlock's hand in a protective sort of way.
"Sherlock, oh Sherlock! You did amazing, you did wonderful, oh you were just..."
"Stand back please, both of you stand back!" Madam Pomfrey insisted, batting Molly and Victor away yet letting John stand and hold his hand comfortingly. It was almost as if she was appreciative of his being there.
"Come on Molly, come here." Victor insisted, grabbing onto Molly's shoulder and easing her back so that the nurse could feed Sherlock some sort of potion, tipping it down his throat for some medical reason.
"John what's wrong with him?" Molly asked desperately, feeling tears roll down her cheeks once more as she saw poor Sherlock, spitting up his potion, gagging on it...
"He's got a couple of broken ribs, maybe a concussion. He'll be fine though, Madam Pomfrey has brought kids back from the dead before, I'm sure she'll heal a couple of bones just fine." John assured with a bit of an optimistic smile. Molly cried once more, feeling Victor's grip on her shoulders tighten.
"Molly...ça va." Sherlock whispered. Molly gave a sigh of relief, for if he was able to talk then he was able to get better soon. That was all that mattered, he had to get better, he had to!
"You didn't die." Victor offered, making Sherlock smile a bit ironically.
"No I didn't...God I felt like I did though." Sherlock growled.
"You did amazing." Molly offered in a breath, laughing through her tears in a very painful sort of mixed expression of emotions.
"Well of course he did, I told him he would win, and it looks like he's on his way there already. He's a champion I tell you." John assured, squeezing Sherlock's hand reassuringly to which the boy could only smile. He looked terrible, he had potion dripping down his lips and his face was much paler than usual, however Madam Pomfrey had left him and so that must mean he was in somewhat stable condition. Molly immediately jumped to Sherlock's side, patting his forehead so as to feel it he had a temperature before leaning down and trying to give him a congratulatory hug.
"Watch it Molly, come on I've got broken ribs!" Sherlock cried, to which Molly just sniffled and retreated, apologizing profusely while John just laughed.
"He'll be fine." John repeated.
"I'm sorry, why are you here?" Victor wondered, standing off towards the side and crossing his arms angrily. Now that the stress of Sherlock's situation had faded away Victor was back to being mean, for the tears that had fallen had long since crusted onto his face and his scowl had returned. There goes his humanity, replaced by whatever hatred had always been nestled in his soul.
"I'm here for the same reason you are. I'm his friend." John insisted, to which Sherlock gave a little smile of agreement. Victor didn't seem to like that answer all that much, especially since he saw John not as a friend but more of a threat. However he stayed silent because he really couldn't do anything else. He didn't like it but he had to tolerate it.
"It's fine, John's helping me. He did brilliantly." Sherlock agreed.
"That was quite some acrobatics you did, I thought you were going to fall, I was terrified!" Molly admitted in a breath, laughing once more for now her nerves were turning to relief, her terror was subsiding and she was beginning to get overcome with joy.
"Well it was rather scary to be honest, but I didn't think of anything else to do! Never would I have been able to conjure a spell so powerful that I would freeze not only the trolls but the crowd as well! That was amazing Sherlock, just amazing!" John exclaimed. Molly noticed Victor scowling, but she also noticed Sherlock smiling.
"You're amazing John. More amazing." Sherlock breathed. Molly really hoped he was delirious, for that would be rather inopportune. As elated and rather crazy both champions were Molly was still rather sure a love confession at this time wouldn't be all that appropriate. Especially  since Victor was standing by, looking quite as angry as those trolls in the arena. The crowd began to go wild, however it seemed to have been around ten minutes, much longer than either Sherlock or John's attempts. 

"Victor go look at his score, he's probably done." Molly commanded, seeing as though Victor didn't want to be here anyway. The boy growled, however it was all he could do but obey. And so he dashed out of the tent, leaving the three alone. Sherlock tried to reposition himself however both Molly and John held him down, adopting the motherly sort of voices as they held his chest to the bed. Sherlock didn't seem to oppose this; in fact Molly made a mental note to not take action the next time he moved. She knew that Sherlock loved feeling John's hands on his chest. It took not two minutes for Victor to return, and now he was counting his fingers and nodding to himself with a large smile on his face.
"Twenty eight! He's pretty beat up too; he'll be in here soon." Victor exclaimed, returning to the tent with something of a congratulatory jump.
"You won Sherlock! You won!" Molly exclaimed, going to hug him before remembering that his ribs were broken. Maybe now wasn't the best time for hugging. However Molly just patted his shoulder, noticing that John was smiling as well, despite his defeat.
"I told you so Sherlock, I told you so." John whispered proudly, squeezing Sherlock's hand once more before finally letting go. Sherlock nodded, sitting up on his pillows despite constant protest from his friends, just so that he could watch John as he left.

"Thank you John, and good job today." Sherlock called to his retreating friend's back. John turned just in time to smile at Sherlock; he turned and grinned, looking at Sherlock as if he was simply the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He looked quite transfixed, and all while Molly smiled she knew that Victor was quite unamused by John's choice of expression. However Sherlock was happy, that was all that mattered. He was happy, he was safe...And as of now he was in the lead. Sherlock was one step closer to hoisting that cup over his head, the Triwizard cup. Sherlock could go down in history...Sherlock could be a champion.