Chapter Text
Arthur Weasley knelt on the ground, peering at the box that now sat in the corner of his and Molly’s sitting room. It was square-ish, well, cube-ish, really, and… didn’t do anything but sit there.
“Er, dad? Can you back up?” Ginny said. “I need to point the remote right at the telly.”
“Hm? Oh, of course,” Arthur said and bustled back to the sofa to sit down next to his wife and daughter.
Ginny pointed the—the—what did she call it? well, the neck-tology thingy—at the telly (that one he could remember), performed some kind of spell with the wand-like thing, and the front of it came to life with brightly colored images.
“Oh!” said Molly. “How nice, dear.”
Ginny tried to turn her grimace into a smile. “Love the enthusiasm, but it’s an advert. The show hasn’t started yet.”
The three of them sat as a voice talked about the latest enchanted mops and lowest ever prices, while they looked at sad people covered in soap suds shaking their heads, and happy people with mops dancing around them.
Arthur hummed and, though long retired from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, gave one last professional assessment. “It moves like a photo!” Then he frowned. “But there’s talking. Like… portraits?”
Next to him, Ginny made another pained expression. “Sure, dad,” she conceded.
Old people, honestly, she thought with shake of her head. Wizards started broadcasting quidditch shortly after the war—a massive morale and economy boost all in one—and the younger generation, as well as muggleborns of all ages, quickly adopted the medium. Now wizards had news, some reality and comedy programs, and a few creative types were venturing into the world of serial storytelling.
Jazzy music emitted from the box, and Ginny perked up. “Alright, it’s starting! Pay attention now.”
Arthur, already transfixed, endeavored to look and listen even harder.
* * *
The camera pans from an overhead view of an applauding studio audience, up to a stage, and then settles, centered on one man sitting on a red and gold vaguely throne-like chair.
“Welcome, one and all, to a brand new series of Taskmaster!” he says. “I’m Dreg Gavies, your Taskmaster.”
Dreg is somewhere between 40 and 50 years old, with thinning grey and white hair; neatly trimmed, mostly white facial hair; and spectacles. He exudes confidence and an air of authority.
“Over the next few months, our six contestants will complete a number of absurd tasks, truly pointless in every way,” Dreg says, shaking his head in mock pity. “Except for the part where I judge their performances and dish out… points!”
The audience claps again and laughs, as Dreg consults the stack of cue cards in his hand, then looks directly into the camera.
“As you’ll soon find out, this is an incredibly special series we have for you. Well, go on then,” he says jovially to the camera. “Take a look at our victims—I mean, contestants!”
The camera pans wide left, showing viewers of the broadcast, for the first time, six people sitting in a row of red and black, not at all throne-like chairs.
From left to right, the people are: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Fleur Delacour, Gabrielle Delacour, and Viktor Krum.
An “applause” sign continues to blink in the studio, but the audience doesn’t need it. They’re going wild for the people on stage.
“Alright, settle down, settle down!” Dreg says eventually, mock-chastening the crowd. “Come on now, you’re embarrassing yourselves. You’d think these people were a big deal or something.” By the end of his comment, he’s grinning, and the crowd laughs again.
Dreg arranges his face in a stern way—his eyebrows are very expressive—and addresses the camera again. “Now, I have been told in no uncertain terms that I am not to give these people the lavish introductions that you might expect.”
The Taskmaster holds up his hand to forestall any laughter. “I’m dead serious, it’s literally written in their contracts that if I use certain phrases, they are allowed to walk off the stage and never come back.”
He gives the camera a shit-eating grin. “That leaves plenty of words I can use, though…”
“First up,” Dreg says, and the camera cuts over to Harry. “He’s a Hogwarts dropout, used to be the Boy who something, the Chosen whatever, please give it up for Harry Potter!”
Harry fidgets in his chair and repeatedly shoots uncomfortable glances over his right shoulder, toward the audience.
“Next to him, the Brightest something or other, the girl who is the brains of the triad she forms with the two men on either side of her, please put your hands together for Hermione Granger!”
Hermione offers only a tight-lipped smile directed at no one in particular.
The camera goes back to Dreg, who pauses and stares in disbelief at the cards in his hand.
“Is this really all we’ve written for him?” He turns all around in his chair as if to confirm, exaggeratedly baffled, then shrugs in resignation.
“It’s… the third one! Please give a very warm welcome to Ron Weasley!”
Ron grins easily in response. The audience, already laughing and applauding for him, cheers harder when he waves at them enthusiastically.
“Next, we’ve got the former Beauxbatons champion of another competition—a Tournament, one might say?—albeit with a very different set of tasks. Please make some noise for Fleur Delacour!”
The entire time the camera is trained on her, Fleur’s expression never changes. She simply acknowledges Dreg with a small nod.
The camera quickly pans one seat to the right, to her far friendlier looking sister.
“Just graduated from Beauxbatons last summer, and yes there is a family relation here, don’t hold being French against either of them, please welcome to our show Gabrielle Delacour!”
Gabrielle directs her best winning smile to the audience, and gives them an exaggerated wink. The crowd eats it up.
“Last, but he certainly hopes he won’t be least in the standings, it’s the former Durmstrang champion, and international superstar of some sport or another. Please give it up for Viktor Krum!”
Viktor’s scowl never wavers.
“Bear with me now,” Dreg says when the crowd settles. “I’ve got one more introduction left. He’s my assistant. He’s little. He’s… little Axel Heron!”
The frame widens to show, directly to the camera right of Dreg, another man. He is, in fact, not little, but sits on a shorter chair, also red and gold, but far less ostentatious than the Taskmaster’s. Axel is somewhere between 30 and 40 years old, with short brown hair, and a mostly forgettable face.
“Now, Axel,” says Dreg, falling into an easy, well-practiced banter. “Contestants aside, want to tell us what makes this a very special series?”
“Sure thing, Dreg,” says Axel in a calmly chipper manner. “For the first time ever, there will be a series-long rule in place.”
The audience ooooohs right on cue.
“And that rule is,” Axel continues, “the contestants are not allowed to use magic!” He poorly acts out an expression of shock on his face.
The audience, on the other hand, is genuinely stunned into silence. The ambient microphones pick up on a slow starting wave of hushed conversation, as the crowd attempts to imagine the popular magical task-based game show… without magic.
The six contestants on stage don’t react. This is no surprise to any of them, as they already filmed all the tasks for the first episode over the last week.
“Well, that went over well,” Dreg comments cheekily. He grins at the crowd, then turns to Axel. “Genuine question, though. Why have we decided to do all these tasks the muggle way, when we have, without question, the most magically interesting contestants we’ve ever had on this show?”
“Great question, Dreg! I’ve no idea,” Axel replies simply and promptly, staring straight faced at the camera the entire time.
Dreg shakes his head in feigned disappointment and flips to his next cue card. He pauses and ponders a bit. “Well, normally this is where we’d try to establish some banter amongst the contestants,” he says, looking up.
“However, I was given exactly one rehearsal with this lot”—the camera briefly shows four faces ranging from sullen to impassive, as well as Ron and Gabrielle—“and I can guarantee you that’ll just cool the audience all the way down to freezing.”
This actually gets a small reaction of amusement from most of the contestants on stage.
“So, Axel,” says the Taskmaster, turning toward his assistant. “Let’s have a task!”
* * *
Ron walked along a cobblestone path in a garden, stopping in front of a table with a wooden cabinet and a folded piece of parchment on it.
“Hello, Ronald,” greeted the Taskmaster’s assistant.
“Hi, Axel,” Ron replied.
Breaking the wax seal and unfolding the parchment, Ron began to read out loud. “Pop the balloon.”
He looked around, finding the balloon some 10 meters (32 feet) away. It dangles off an archway of the large stone gate to the garden.
“Seems easy enough,” Ron commented.
“Keep reading,” Axel instructed.
“Oh, right,” Ron replied bashfully, ears turning red.
*
Harry held the piece of parchment in his hands. “Pop the balloon. You must stay behind the rope at all times. You may not move the rope.”
A red velvet rope was stationed behind Harry where he stood facing the table, also around 10 meters away from the balloon.
“Okay…” he frowned.
*
“You may not move the rope,” Hermione read quickly, clearly in the midst of a quick speaking rhythm.
“Fastest wins. You may buy the tools you need with time.”
At this, she paused. “You may buy the tools you need with time,” she repeated slowly, looking at Axel. “That’s positively Shakespearean.”
*
“You may buy ze tools you need with time,” Fleur read with a frown. “Your time starts when Axel has shown you heez tool shop.”
She looked up, fixing Axel with a determined blue stare. “Show me your tools, zen.”
*
“Slingshot and a bucket of stones costs 1 minute per bucket,” Axel said, opening the cabinet doors.
“You can have a fork at 2 minutes per fork. Or darts which cost you 2 minutes 30 seconds per dart.” Each item he lists is in its own compartment, with a label of the time cost.
“Rubber ducks are free,” Axel continued. “Or you can purchase this pair of scissors for 8 minutes. With it, you gain access to the string, which you are otherwise not allowed to touch or interfere with in any way.”
Gabrielle turned 180 degrees to look at the velvet rope she was not allowed to cross. A string was tied to it.
The thin string went out and up toward the archway where the balloon dangled, and disappeared somewhere in the stone structure.
She looked back at Axel and stared at him.
Under the long scrutiny, Axel asked, “Any questions?”
“Yes,” Gabrielle replied flatly. “Why am I on zis show?”
* * *
The audience is laughing heartily and applauding as the broadcast cuts from the prerecorded tasks back to the live feed on the stage.
Harry is leaned over Hermione and both are teasing Ron. Exchanging a few words, Fleur and Gabrielle are smiling at each other. Viktor’s head is tilted away from the line of contestants, still looking vaguely in the direction of the large screen on the wall they were all watching.
Dreg, ever the expert host, picks up on the more relaxed mood. “So, first ever task. How were you all feeling then? Former champions?”
Harry freezes up. Neither Fleur nor Viktor answers him.
“O… kay,” Dreg says, playing along good-naturedly. “Non-champions then?”
Ron just grins dopily as Gabrielle exclaims, “I still ’ave not been told why I am on ze show!”
Everyone laughs along politely except Hermione, who takes Gabrielle’s question seriously. “Well first, they needed an even number to have any team tasks. So they couldn’t get just the Golden Trio, nor just the remaining most recent Triwizard champions.”
“And if they got both, that again left them with an odd number, five,” Hermione continues. “That left you, Gabrielle, and your involvement in the lake task: just like the other two non-champions here. In all, it worked perfectly for them; they got to keep with their desired theme.”
With a small frown, Hermione finishes, “They did leave out Cho; clearly they didn’t want people making the immediate connection to Cedric. I do hope they find a tasteful way to mention or tribute him, though. The omission is glaring.”
Fellow contestants, host, assistant, and audience alike are stunned into silence.
“What? Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione says with a shrug.
“Well, it is now!” Dreg eventually replies, recovering.
“Let’s, er,” he says to Axel, trying to move things along. “Let’s get back to it, shall we, and see how everyone did!”
* * *
Harry looked at the items arrayed in the cabinet. He stared at the numbers on the labels.
“Slingshot?” he requested.
“1 minute, here you go,” Axel said, handing him a slingshot and a mini bucket of even tinier rocks.
*
Ron also stared at the cabinet. He reached his hand out a few times, then settled on the object most familiar to him.
“Fork?”
“2 minutes each. How many do you want?” Axel replied.
“Er… I’ll start with two, I suppose,” Ron said.
“4 minutes, okay.”
*
Gabrielle sighed. “Dart,” she said confidently, holding her hand out.
“How many?”
“One,” Gabrielle replied immediately.
“2 minutes 30 seconds, there you go.”
*
Harry’s first few shots with the slingshot went wide right and left. The next handful sprayed wildly in every direction, high and low. One small rock went straight up in the air and fell into his messy hair.
*
Ron walked up to the velvet rope. He weighed one of the two forks in his right hand, holding the other with his left.
He threw the first fork. It sailed through the air, never coming close to the balloon, and clattered noisily on the pavement.
Ron looked down at the second fork in his left hand, and immediately threw it too. It bounced off the side of the stone archway.
*
Gabrielle sauntered over to the rope. She hefted the dart in her hand, took a stance, and closed one eye. It certainly looked like she knew what she was doing.
Then she raised her hand and threw the dart. It embedded itself in the pavement between her in the balloon, well short, never making it more than 5 meters.
“Merde.”
*
Harry’s bucket ran dangerously low of rocks. He screwed his face up with concentration, then sent one sailing through the air.
It launched with the perfect trajectory, hit the balloon dead on, and… bounced right off, too small and smooth to puncture the balloon.
“Oh come on!” he groaned, flinging the slingshot to the ground.
*
Hermione’s eyes ran over the items in the cabinet. Her mouth moved silently as she worked out costs in her head.
Then she stared at Axel. “There’s clearly only one answer. The ducks are free because they’re worthless, that slingshot is only 1 minute but it’ll take ages to get through the bucket, the forks are stupid, really a non-factor entirely, so that just leaves the darts,” she rattled off.
“2 minutes 30 for each dart, but how many darts would I need? Add up the real time cost of making the attempts…”
Hermione nodded, absolutely certain of her next words. “I’ll take the scissors.”
“8 minutes, here you are,” Axel replied, handing the comically oversized scissors across the table to Hermione.
She strode, setting a brisk pace, over to the velvet rope, eyed the thin string tied to it, and snipped the string in one smooth motion.
A portcullis descended from the archway, almost immediately popping the balloon. Water sprayed everywhere.
The broadcast includes the audio of the audience cheering.
“Okay, thanks Hermione,” Axel waved from his spot at the table.
Hermione nodded to Axel, all business, and left, walking back down the cobbled path.
*
Ron went back for more forks. He threw them wildly again. None popped the balloon. He went through all the forks in the cabinet, exactly one dozen.
Looking at the carnage of metal strewn all about, prongs bent and twisted from their forceful encounters with stone and concrete, Ron sighed and slumped his shoulders.
“Okay, I know when to give up,” he said, approaching Axel’s cabinet. “I’ll take the scissors.”
“8 minutes, there you are.”
*
Harry depleted his first bucket of stones. He bought another. And then the last one. A few stones from each bucket struck the balloon, but simply could not pop it.
He bought all the darts. He missed the balloon with all twelve.
He bought all the forks. He missed the balloon with all twelve. There was a near miss—one just grazed the balloon, but with the handle side.
Frustrated, Harry gathered every free rubber duck in his arms, and launched them all at the balloon. A surprisingly high number of them struck the balloon, but they all obviously bounced off.
Disheveled, panting from exertion, and his glasses askew, Harry walked over to the table in defeat. “Scissors, please,” he said.
*
Gabrielle bought, one at a time, ten more darts. That left only one. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the distance between her and the balloon.
She strode back to Axel and the cabinet. “All of ze ducks,” she demanded.
“Okay, those are free. You can take them.”
Gabrielle looked flatly at the man, unimpressed. “Zere are dozens of zem. What am I supposed to carry zem in?”
“Your… arms?” Axel said.
“A bucket large enough to hold zem all, please.”
Axel looked at the camera, uncertain.
“Eez zis a shop or not?” Gabrielle challenged.
Axel waved his wand and a bucket appeared on the table.
“Merci,” Gabrielle said sweetly. She got nearly all of the ducks into the bucket with a single sweep of her arm, dumped the stragglers in, grabbed the last remaining dart, and strutted back to the rope.
“Last dart, another 2 minutes 30,” Axel said to nobody but himself.
Gabrielle threw duck after duck at the balloon in quick succession. Her aim noticeably improved, as a general trend.
Finally she took her last remaining dart. She dispensed with her earlier stance, throwing it almost casually.
It struck the balloon and popped it.
The audience goes wild.
Gabrielle looked directly into the nearest camera, smiled, flicked her hair, and walked off.
*
Fleur still held the parchment with the task in her hand. Axel had just finished showing her the ‘tools’ in his ‘shop.’ Her frown had grown with every item.
She inspected the garden. It was mostly green grass, there was the path she’d walked along from the far gate, and some manicured vegetation.
“Can I leave ze garden and come back?” Fleur asked.
The crowd oooooooohs.
“All the information you need is on the task.”
Fleur raised an eyebrow at his response, and read the task once more.
“Bon. See you soon,” she said with a nod, turning back down the path and walking out of the frame.
*
“Your time starts ven Axel has shown you his tool shop,” Viktor read.
He glared at the contents of the cabinet. Tilting his head, Viktor reached a hand out to trace the edges and points of the rocks, forks, and darts.
“Darts,” he said gruffly.
“Okay, how many?”
Viktor looked behind him, from the velvet rope to the balloon in the archway.
“Three.”
“Okay, 7 minutes 30.”
*
Fleur walked back into the frame. She held in her hands three stones.
The crowd oooohs and aaaaahs.
The rocks are irregular, but all about the size of her palm—much heftier than anything Axel offered.
*
Viktor threw his first dart. It went barely too high, missing the widest middle bulk of the balloon, and soared past, just centimeters away from the top left.
The audience groans.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and opened them a few seconds later.
His second throw hit the balloon almost dead center, bursting it.
*
Fleur walked straight up to the velvet rope. She hurled one of her rocks at the balloon. It wasn’t the prettiest arc, and it didn’t hit the exact center. But it barrelled through and didn’t burst the balloon as much as it clobbered it out of existence.
Turning toward Axel to confirm she was done, Fleur dropped the other two stones in the grass. She dusted her hands off, nodded in farewell, and walked off.
* * *
“Some, er…” Dreg started, “very interesting approaches,” he finished diplomatically, true feelings belied by a pointed look at Harry.
On stage, half of the contestants are giving each other appraising looks. Like the live audience, it was their first time seeing everyone else’s task performances.
“Now, normally I would trust in the budding rapport with the contestants, and tease and rib them a bit here,” Dreg says with a grin. “Problem is, I haven’t got shit going.” He pauses to let the audience’s laughter swell and die.
“So instead, Axel, let’s have some stats.”
“Stats, coming right up,” Axel says.
He looks down at the notes that have appeared in his hands. “Harry bought every single item my shop had, so that’s 65 minutes right there.”
Ron is laughing boisterously, clapping Harry’s back around Hermione, who looks genuinely amused. Harry himself has a sheepish grin on his face.
“Hang on, it gets worse,” Axel says. “He spent nearly two full hours just throwing all the things he bought.”
“And the ducks—there were a lot of ducks,” Harry protests under his breath as the crowd and his fellow contestants laugh even harder.
“Incredible,” says the Taskmaster sarcastically, shaking his head.
“Then we have Ron. He bought all the forks, then the scissors. So that only cost him 32 minutes.”
“With actual time though?”
“Ron was remarkably quick,” Axel says. “He only stood there throwing forks for about two minutes. Add all the walking back and forth, and the shop cost, and he took… 39 minutes!”
More applause, and the camera shows Ron nodding, looking mildly satisfied with himself.
Flipping a page, Axel reports, “Gabrielle bought every dart we had, so that’s 30 minutes right there.”
The crowd oooohs again.
“And how long did she spend throwing those darts and ducks?” Greg asks.
“Well, she kept buying and throwing the darts one at a time,” Axel says, and for the first time this episode, he breaks, unable to contain a small laugh.
“That took a considerable amount of time, so in the end, her total was… 44 minutes!”
The camera switches over to show just Gabrielle. She plays up an affronted expression for the crowd.
“So I’ll just tell you this now: the first task will end with Harry in last place with 1 point, Gabrielle much better with 2, and Ron just slightly better with 3!” Axel says, looking to Dreg.
“Is this your way of telling me that there’s a close three-way race for first?” Dreg asks.
“Yes, it is,” Axel confirms. “I’ll start with Hermione. She settled on her strategy quite quickly, and then executed on it even quicker. Her total time was only 9 minutes!”
“Now, Viktor only needed two darts to pop the balloon,” Axel continues. “Two darts is of course 5 minutes. However… he bought three darts. So he’s working with a baseline cost of 7.5 minutes, Dreg.”
“Alright now,” Dreg says, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “How long did Viktor take to throw those darts?”
“Okay, between deciding to take the darts, walking over, and throwing two… Viktor took 9 minutes… and 10 seconds.”
The audience ooooohs and claps as Hermione almost involuntarily does the tiniest fist pump in her seat. Viktor leans over to say a few words to her, past Gabrielle and Fleur who sit between them. Hermione leans forward and toward him a bit too, to catch the words, and laughs and grins at Viktor.
Between them, Gabrielle smiles too, having caught the exchange. The intense look of anticipation on Fleur’s face never changes.
“So Hermione just beat out Viktor, but you still haven’t told us who came in first,” Dreg says to Axel.
“Right you are, Dreg. Fleur did not purchase a single item from my shop. Then she made one throw and popped the balloon very efficiently. But how much time did she spend off camera looking for her tools of choice?” Axel says, raising his eyebrows and letting the suspense hover.
“I don’t know man, you tell me,” Dreg says in mock exasperation.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. Fleur’s total time was 40 seconds off of Hermione’s…”
“Merlin’s beard!” Dreg says, throwing his hands up. “Is she in first or third, just tell us!”
“… in the lower direction! With a time of 8 minutes 20 seconds, Fleur Delacour wins the task!”
As the crowd applauded, Dreg said, his voice raised to be heard, “And that’s the first half of the show! We’ll take a short break now, but stick around and join us soon in the second!”
The jazzy theme music began to play, adding to the ambient noise of the audience continuing to clap.
Just before the curtains fell over the stage, a sharp-eyed viewer could see Hermione, who had sat ever so slightly forward in her seat, affected by the growing anticipation, pursing her lips. She shot a glance toward Fleur, who was wearing the inverse expression, her mouth quirked up, showing the tiniest hint of a smirk.
When Fleur glanced over too, and the two contestants’ eyes met, Hermione looked away quickly, her back stiffening almost imperceptibly. Fleur let her eyes linger a beat longer, her smirk growing for a moment, before leaning over to hear her sister.
* * *
“Thoughts?” Ginny asked her parents, making conversation to fill the several minutes long advert break.
“So, that,” Arthur said slowly, “is the function of a rubber duck!”
Ginny opened her mouth to correct him, but then thought better of it.
“Well, it looks like they all had fun,” Molly said brightly.
“Sure, mum,” Ginny said, playing along.
While her parents started talking about having everyone over to the Burrow soon, Ginny processed the first half of the first episode.
The younger Delacour was impressive—great screen presence. She could be the unexpected star of this series.
And Hermione and Fleur… there was a fair bit of tension there. That could be interesting.