Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Triwizard Tickling Tournament
Each match had delivered its own brand of entertainment, with laughter echoing across the grounds long after the competitions had ended. Students from all four houses, along with their visiting counterparts from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, had thrown themselves into the spectacle with abandon. Today, however, the upcoming match was causing an even greater stir than usual: Ron Weasley was set to face off against Pansy Parkinson.
It was a rivalry that had simmered throughout their years at Hogwarts. Pansy, known for her sharp tongue and loyal allegiance to Slytherin, had spent most of her school career antagonizing Gryffindors, with Ron often being one of her primary targets. Now, for the first time, they would face each other in a different kind of competition—a test of endurance, agility, and, most importantly, laughter.
The stands were packed as students gathered to witness what promised to be a fiery contest. The Gryffindor section, as always, was rowdy, with Fred and George leading the cheers. They were already shouting jokes and predictions about how Ron would fare, knowing full well that their brother was equal parts determined and easily flustered.
“I reckon Pansy’s going to get under his skin in less than five minutes,” George said, grinning at Fred.
Fred laughed. “You know Ron—he’ll hold out just long enough to surprise us.”
Hermione, sitting beside Harry, gave a small smile. “Ron’s going to do fine. He’s always tougher than he looks.”
Harry nodded, but even he was curious to see how Ron would handle himself in this bizarre tournament. After all, the competition had thrown everyone’s expectations out the window so far.
On the other side of the field, the Slytherins were equally vocal in their support for Pansy. Draco Malfoy sat in the front row, his smirk firmly in place as he watched his longtime friend prepare for the match. “This should be easy for Pansy,” he drawled to Crabbe and Goyle. “Weasley doesn’t stand a chance.”
The atmosphere was electric as Ron and Pansy stepped onto the Quidditch pitch. Ron, tall and lanky, was trying to psych himself up, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared across the field at Pansy. She, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. Pansy’s smirk was firmly in place as she tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder, her confidence radiating for all to see.
Professor Dumbledore, once again acting as the master of ceremonies, stepped forward with his usual flourish, his eyes twinkling with delight at the spectacle before him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, students and staff, it is my pleasure to introduce our next competitors in the Triwizard Tickle Tournament. On one side, we have Ron Weasley of Gryffindor!” The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, with Fred and George shouting the loudest.
“And on the other side, we have Pansy Parkinson of Slytherin!” The Slytherins responded with an equally enthusiastic cheer, though theirs was punctuated with a few jeers aimed at Ron.
Dumbledore continued, “As always, the rules are simple: the first to surrender to uncontrollable laughter loses the match. May the best tickler win!”
With a flick of Dumbledore’s wand, a small firework shot into the sky, signaling the start of the match.
Ron squared his shoulders, ready for whatever Pansy was going to throw at him. He knew this match would be as much about keeping his cool as it was about actually outmaneuvering Pansy, and he wasn’t about to let her intimidate him. For her part, Pansy sauntered forward, her eyes never leaving Ron’s, her smirk widening with every step.
Before Ron could react, Pansy made her move. She darted forward with surprising speed and leapt onto Ron’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist and using her arms to secure her position. Ron let out a surprised grunt, stumbling slightly as Pansy’s fingers went straight for his neck.
“Ah! P-Pansy—what—” Ron gasped, already feeling the telltale signs of giggles bubbling up inside him as Pansy’s fingers tickled the sensitive skin at the sides of his neck.
“Oh, come on, Weasley, you didn’t think I’d go easy on you, did you?” Pansy teased, her voice dripping with amusement as she kept her fingers moving, tickling mercilessly just below Ron’s ears.
Ron tried to shake her off, twisting and turning, but Pansy clung on like a particularly determined Niffler. His face was already turning red, and he could feel the laughter rising in his chest as Pansy’s fingers danced over the most ticklish spots on his neck. Despite his best efforts, a strangled laugh escaped him, and he could hear the Slytherin section roaring with approval.
“Pansy!” Ron groaned between giggles, trying to twist away from her fingers. “You’re cheating—gah—no fair!”
“Cheating? Hardly,” Pansy purred in response, tightening her hold as she continued her relentless tickling. “I’m just being thorough.”
Ron’s legs began to wobble as the ticklish sensation overwhelmed him. Pansy’s fingers were ruthless, moving up and down the sides of his neck, and Ron could hardly focus on anything except the need to laugh. Before long, his knees buckled, and he sank down to the grass, collapsing on all fours with Pansy still perched on his back like a cat toying with its prey.
The crowd was in hysterics, and Ron’s face was bright red as he struggled to catch his breath.
Once Ron was down on the ground, Pansy slid off his back, grinning triumphantly as she quickly moved to the next phase of her attack. She knelt down beside him, her fingers immediately targeting the backs of his knees, knowing full well that most people couldn’t handle being tickled there.
Ron let out a bark of laughter as soon as Pansy’s fingers found their mark. His legs kicked involuntarily as she tickled behind his knees, her fingers light and quick as they danced over the sensitive skin. Ron’s laughter came in gasps and snorts as he tried to wriggle away from Pansy’s grasp, but she was relentless.
“Oh, you’re so ticklish here, Weasley,” Pansy said, her voice smug. “I think I’ve found your weak spot.”
Ron’s face was contorted in helpless laughter as he tried to get away from her, but every time he moved, Pansy’s fingers just found new spots to torment. The backs of his knees were unbearably sensitive, and Pansy seemed to know exactly how to exploit it.
For a few moments, it seemed like Pansy had the match in the bag. Ron was laughing uncontrollably, his legs kicking out as he tried to escape, but with Pansy sitting on his lower back, it seemed impossible for him to gain the upper hand.
But Ron Weasley wasn’t about to give up just yet.
In a last-ditch effort, Ron reached behind him and grabbed hold of Pansy’s wrists. With a burst of energy fueled by desperation, he pulled her hands away from his legs and, using his weight, rolled them both over so that he was now on top. Pansy let out a surprised squeal as Ron flipped their positions, and suddenly, she was the one trapped beneath him.
Ron, panting and red-faced but clearly determined, grinned down at Pansy. “Thought you had me, didn’t you?”
Pansy’s smirk faltered, and for the first time, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Weasley, don’t you—”
But it was too late. Ron had already pinned her wrists to the ground, and without hesitation, he started tickling her underarms.
Pansy let out a shriek of laughter, her body convulsing as Ron’s fingers attacked the sensitive spots beneath her arms. Her legs kicked out, and she tried to twist away, but Ron had her firmly pinned. His fingers moved with surprising agility, tickling her underarms with a precision that made her squirm and writhe beneath him.
“Oh—no—Ron—stop—!” Pansy gasped between fits of laughter. Her smirk was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look of desperation as she tried in vain to escape his ticklish onslaught.
Ron, now fully in control, grinned triumphantly as he kept up the tickling, his fingers merciless as they explored every inch of Pansy’s underarms. “What’s wrong, Parkinson? Not so smug now, are you?”
Pansy’s laughter was loud and uncontrollable, and her body shook beneath Ron’s weight as she tried to free herself. “Okay! Okay! I give up!” she finally cried out, her voice hoarse with laughter.
At her surrender, Ron immediately stopped, sitting back with a triumphant grin. Pansy lay on the ground, still gasping for breath as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.
The crowd erupted into wild applause, cheering for Ron’s victory. Gryffindor students were on their feet, chanting his name, while the Slytherins sat in stunned silence, clearly not expecting Pansy to lose so decisively.
Up in the stands, Fred and George were practically beside themselves with laughter.
“I can’t believe it!” Fred shouted. “Ron actually won!”
“I guess he’s learned a thing or two from us after all,” George added with a proud grin.
Hermione, meanwhile, was clapping enthusiastically. “I knew he could do it.”
Back on the field, Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “And the winner of this match is Ron Weasley!”
Ron stood up, offering Pansy a hand to help her to her feet. She accepted it begrudgingly, still trying to catch her breath.
“You fought well, Parkinson,” Ron said with a grin, his earlier frustration now replaced with camaraderie.
Pansy, though clearly annoyed at losing, gave a small smirk. “You got lucky, Weasley.”
As the two left the field, still exchanging playful jabs, the crowd continued to cheer, already buzzing with excitement for the next round of the Tournament.
For Ron, the victory was sweet—not just because he had won, but because he had proven, even to himself, that he could handle the pressure and come out on top. And while Pansy had given him a run for his money, Ron had shown that, when it came down to it, he could keep his cool and even outwit the Slytherins.
It was a rivalry that had simmered throughout their years at Hogwarts. Pansy, known for her sharp tongue and loyal allegiance to Slytherin, had spent most of her school career antagonizing Gryffindors, with Ron often being one of her primary targets. Now, for the first time, they would face each other in a different kind of competition—a test of endurance, agility, and, most importantly, laughter.
The stands were packed as students gathered to witness what promised to be a fiery contest. The Gryffindor section, as always, was rowdy, with Fred and George leading the cheers. They were already shouting jokes and predictions about how Ron would fare, knowing full well that their brother was equal parts determined and easily flustered.
“I reckon Pansy’s going to get under his skin in less than five minutes,” George said, grinning at Fred.
Fred laughed. “You know Ron—he’ll hold out just long enough to surprise us.”
Hermione, sitting beside Harry, gave a small smile. “Ron’s going to do fine. He’s always tougher than he looks.”
Harry nodded, but even he was curious to see how Ron would handle himself in this bizarre tournament. After all, the competition had thrown everyone’s expectations out the window so far.
On the other side of the field, the Slytherins were equally vocal in their support for Pansy. Draco Malfoy sat in the front row, his smirk firmly in place as he watched his longtime friend prepare for the match. “This should be easy for Pansy,” he drawled to Crabbe and Goyle. “Weasley doesn’t stand a chance.”
The atmosphere was electric as Ron and Pansy stepped onto the Quidditch pitch. Ron, tall and lanky, was trying to psych himself up, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared across the field at Pansy. She, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. Pansy’s smirk was firmly in place as she tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder, her confidence radiating for all to see.
Professor Dumbledore, once again acting as the master of ceremonies, stepped forward with his usual flourish, his eyes twinkling with delight at the spectacle before him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, students and staff, it is my pleasure to introduce our next competitors in the Triwizard Tickle Tournament. On one side, we have Ron Weasley of Gryffindor!” The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, with Fred and George shouting the loudest.
“And on the other side, we have Pansy Parkinson of Slytherin!” The Slytherins responded with an equally enthusiastic cheer, though theirs was punctuated with a few jeers aimed at Ron.
Dumbledore continued, “As always, the rules are simple: the first to surrender to uncontrollable laughter loses the match. May the best tickler win!”
With a flick of Dumbledore’s wand, a small firework shot into the sky, signaling the start of the match.
Ron squared his shoulders, ready for whatever Pansy was going to throw at him. He knew this match would be as much about keeping his cool as it was about actually outmaneuvering Pansy, and he wasn’t about to let her intimidate him. For her part, Pansy sauntered forward, her eyes never leaving Ron’s, her smirk widening with every step.
Before Ron could react, Pansy made her move. She darted forward with surprising speed and leapt onto Ron’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist and using her arms to secure her position. Ron let out a surprised grunt, stumbling slightly as Pansy’s fingers went straight for his neck.
“Ah! P-Pansy—what—” Ron gasped, already feeling the telltale signs of giggles bubbling up inside him as Pansy’s fingers tickled the sensitive skin at the sides of his neck.
“Oh, come on, Weasley, you didn’t think I’d go easy on you, did you?” Pansy teased, her voice dripping with amusement as she kept her fingers moving, tickling mercilessly just below Ron’s ears.
Ron tried to shake her off, twisting and turning, but Pansy clung on like a particularly determined Niffler. His face was already turning red, and he could feel the laughter rising in his chest as Pansy’s fingers danced over the most ticklish spots on his neck. Despite his best efforts, a strangled laugh escaped him, and he could hear the Slytherin section roaring with approval.
“Pansy!” Ron groaned between giggles, trying to twist away from her fingers. “You’re cheating—gah—no fair!”
“Cheating? Hardly,” Pansy purred in response, tightening her hold as she continued her relentless tickling. “I’m just being thorough.”
Ron’s legs began to wobble as the ticklish sensation overwhelmed him. Pansy’s fingers were ruthless, moving up and down the sides of his neck, and Ron could hardly focus on anything except the need to laugh. Before long, his knees buckled, and he sank down to the grass, collapsing on all fours with Pansy still perched on his back like a cat toying with its prey.
The crowd was in hysterics, and Ron’s face was bright red as he struggled to catch his breath.
Once Ron was down on the ground, Pansy slid off his back, grinning triumphantly as she quickly moved to the next phase of her attack. She knelt down beside him, her fingers immediately targeting the backs of his knees, knowing full well that most people couldn’t handle being tickled there.
Ron let out a bark of laughter as soon as Pansy’s fingers found their mark. His legs kicked involuntarily as she tickled behind his knees, her fingers light and quick as they danced over the sensitive skin. Ron’s laughter came in gasps and snorts as he tried to wriggle away from Pansy’s grasp, but she was relentless.
“Oh, you’re so ticklish here, Weasley,” Pansy said, her voice smug. “I think I’ve found your weak spot.”
Ron’s face was contorted in helpless laughter as he tried to get away from her, but every time he moved, Pansy’s fingers just found new spots to torment. The backs of his knees were unbearably sensitive, and Pansy seemed to know exactly how to exploit it.
For a few moments, it seemed like Pansy had the match in the bag. Ron was laughing uncontrollably, his legs kicking out as he tried to escape, but with Pansy sitting on his lower back, it seemed impossible for him to gain the upper hand.
But Ron Weasley wasn’t about to give up just yet.
In a last-ditch effort, Ron reached behind him and grabbed hold of Pansy’s wrists. With a burst of energy fueled by desperation, he pulled her hands away from his legs and, using his weight, rolled them both over so that he was now on top. Pansy let out a surprised squeal as Ron flipped their positions, and suddenly, she was the one trapped beneath him.
Ron, panting and red-faced but clearly determined, grinned down at Pansy. “Thought you had me, didn’t you?”
Pansy’s smirk faltered, and for the first time, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Weasley, don’t you—”
But it was too late. Ron had already pinned her wrists to the ground, and without hesitation, he started tickling her underarms.
Pansy let out a shriek of laughter, her body convulsing as Ron’s fingers attacked the sensitive spots beneath her arms. Her legs kicked out, and she tried to twist away, but Ron had her firmly pinned. His fingers moved with surprising agility, tickling her underarms with a precision that made her squirm and writhe beneath him.
“Oh—no—Ron—stop—!” Pansy gasped between fits of laughter. Her smirk was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look of desperation as she tried in vain to escape his ticklish onslaught.
Ron, now fully in control, grinned triumphantly as he kept up the tickling, his fingers merciless as they explored every inch of Pansy’s underarms. “What’s wrong, Parkinson? Not so smug now, are you?”
Pansy’s laughter was loud and uncontrollable, and her body shook beneath Ron’s weight as she tried to free herself. “Okay! Okay! I give up!” she finally cried out, her voice hoarse with laughter.
At her surrender, Ron immediately stopped, sitting back with a triumphant grin. Pansy lay on the ground, still gasping for breath as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.
The crowd erupted into wild applause, cheering for Ron’s victory. Gryffindor students were on their feet, chanting his name, while the Slytherins sat in stunned silence, clearly not expecting Pansy to lose so decisively.
Up in the stands, Fred and George were practically beside themselves with laughter.
“I can’t believe it!” Fred shouted. “Ron actually won!”
“I guess he’s learned a thing or two from us after all,” George added with a proud grin.
Hermione, meanwhile, was clapping enthusiastically. “I knew he could do it.”
Back on the field, Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “And the winner of this match is Ron Weasley!”
Ron stood up, offering Pansy a hand to help her to her feet. She accepted it begrudgingly, still trying to catch her breath.
“You fought well, Parkinson,” Ron said with a grin, his earlier frustration now replaced with camaraderie.
Pansy, though clearly annoyed at losing, gave a small smirk. “You got lucky, Weasley.”
As the two left the field, still exchanging playful jabs, the crowd continued to cheer, already buzzing with excitement for the next round of the Tournament.
For Ron, the victory was sweet—not just because he had won, but because he had proven, even to himself, that he could handle the pressure and come out on top. And while Pansy had given him a run for his money, Ron had shown that, when it came down to it, he could keep his cool and even outwit the Slytherins.
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