Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Triwizard Tickling Tournament
Today's match was particularly charged—Draco Malfoy versus Ron Weasley. It wasn't just another quarterfinal bout; it was the culmination of years of rivalry, animosity, and endless bickering. Both boys had clashed countless times over the years, their disdain for each other palpable. Now, they'd be facing off in a contest that was as much a test of strategy and endurance as it was an opportunity to settle old scores.
Up in the stands, the Gryffindor and Slytherin sections were buzzing. Fred and George Weasley were already cracking jokes, cheering their brother on, while Draco’s Slytherin friends—Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Vincent Crabbe—watched with smug confidence, sure that their champion would crush Ron.
“I’ll give him three minutes,” George said, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. “There’s no way Ron lets Malfoy get the upper hand for longer than that.”
Fred chuckled. “Or maybe Malfoy will finally get what’s coming to him. This has been a long time coming.”
Hermione, sitting beside Harry, was biting her lip nervously, though she still managed a small smile. “I’m sure Ron will give it everything he’s got.”
Harry, sitting quietly beside her, nodded. “This is going to be intense.”
The atmosphere in the stadium grew louder as the two competitors finally made their way onto the field. Draco Malfoy, with his signature sneer, looked as though he already considered himself the victor. His platinum-blond hair gleamed in the afternoon sun as he raised his arms, basking in the cheers from the Slytherin section.
Ron, in contrast, wore a look of determination, his jaw clenched as he strode onto the field. This wasn’t just about winning the tournament for him—this was personal. Ron had spent years enduring Malfoy’s taunts, and now he had the chance to settle things in front of the entire school.
The two stood across from each other, glaring.
“Ready to lose, Weasley?” Draco taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “You wish, Malfoy. I’m about to wipe that smirk off your face.”
Professor Dumbledore stepped forward to officiate, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Welcome, students, to another exciting quarterfinal match in the Triwizard Tickle Tournament! Today, we have two fierce competitors—Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy! The rules are simple: the first to surrender to uncontrollable laughter loses. May the best tickler win!”
The crowd erupted into cheers as Dumbledore raised his wand. A small firework shot into the sky, signaling the start of the match.
Neither Ron nor Draco wasted any time. As soon as the signal was given, they lunged at each other with the kind of ferocity that only years of rivalry could fuel. The audience gasped as the two immediately began grappling, their bodies locked in a fierce struggle as they tried to gain the upper hand.
Draco was quick, his lithe form darting around Ron as he attempted to grab hold of his sides. But Ron was stronger, and he wasn’t about to let Draco gain the advantage so easily. He twisted out of Draco’s grasp, reaching for Draco’s ribs in return, his fingers brushing against Draco’s side and eliciting a sharp gasp of laughter.
“Come on, Malfoy! I know you’re ticklish!” Ron taunted, a grin breaking through his serious expression.
Draco responded with a growl, slapping Ron’s hand away before diving at him again. This time, he managed to catch Ron’s arm, pulling him close and trying to tickle his ribs. Ron laughed involuntarily, but he quickly jerked free, grappling with Draco in return.
For the next few minutes, the two wrestled fiercely, their bodies twisting and turning as they tried to gain control of one another. Draco’s quick reflexes allowed him to dodge some of Ron’s attacks, but Ron’s strength made it difficult for Draco to keep him pinned for long. Every time one of them managed to get the upper hand, the other would counter, rolling them both over and reversing the positions.
The crowd was on the edge of their seats, watching the back-and-forth struggle with rapt attention. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were shouting encouragement to their respective champions, while the rest of the students cheered and laughed at the intensity of the match.
Draco, his hair now disheveled and his face flushed, finally managed to push Ron onto his back, straddling him as he reached for Ron’s sides. His fingers dug into Ron’s ribs, and Ron let out a loud burst of laughter, his body writhing beneath Draco’s weight.
“Ticklish, Weasley?” Draco sneered, his voice strained as he tried to maintain control.
But Ron wasn’t about to give up so easily. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his body sharply, knocking Draco off balance. The two rolled over again, their limbs tangled as they wrestled for dominance. Ron managed to get on top, his hands quickly finding Draco’s ribs and tickling him in return.
Draco’s laughter echoed across the pitch as Ron’s fingers found the sensitive spots along his ribs and sides. “We’ll see who’s ticklish now!” Ron shouted, his voice triumphant as Draco squirmed beneath him.
For a moment, it seemed like Ron might have the upper hand. But Draco, ever the cunning Slytherin, managed to hook his leg around Ron’s, using the leverage to flip them both over once more. Now, Draco was on top again, his fingers immediately returning to Ron’s ribs.
The two continued to grapple fiercely, rolling across the grass in a flurry of limbs and laughter. Every time one of them seemed to gain control, the other would break free, and the match continued in an intense back-and-forth struggle.
After several minutes of intense grappling, both boys were breathless, their faces red and their laughter loud and uncontrollable. But neither was willing to give in. The match had reached a stalemate, and the crowd was growing more excited by the second.
Then, almost simultaneously, both Ron and Draco reached for the other’s feet.
Draco grabbed hold of Ron’s ankle just as Ron caught Draco’s foot in return. The two boys locked eyes, both realizing that they had the same idea—target the most ticklish spot.
Without another word, they both began tickling each other’s feet, their fingers working furiously over the sensitive skin.
Ron let out a loud, involuntary laugh as Draco’s fingers danced over his sole, brushing against his arch and toes with expert precision. The ticklish sensation shot up his legs, making it impossible for him to keep still. His body jerked and squirmed as he tried to focus on tickling Draco’s feet in return.
Draco, meanwhile, was laughing just as hard. Ron’s fingers moved quickly over his foot, tickling his arch and the spaces between his toes. His body shook with uncontrollable laughter, and he kicked out with his free leg, trying to dislodge Ron’s grip.
The crowd watched in awe as the two boys continued their ticklish assault on each other’s feet, their bodies writhing and twisting as they laughed uncontrollably. It was a battle of endurance now—who could last the longest?
For minutes, the two were locked in the bizarre yet intense struggle, their fingers moving relentlessly over each other’s feet. Laughter filled the stadium as both Ron and Draco fought to maintain their composure, but the tickling was too intense. Their faces were flushed, their bodies trembling with laughter, but neither was willing to give in.
Draco’s eyes narrowed as he focused all his energy on tickling Ron’s feet. He knew he had to push Ron to his limit, and he wasn’t about to lose to him—especially not in front of the entire school.
Ron, for his part, was determined to make Draco laugh even harder, his fingers working furiously over Draco’s foot. But the sensation of Draco’s fingers on his own feet was becoming too much to bear. His laughter grew louder, more desperate, and he could feel his resolve weakening.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of laughter, Ron couldn’t take it anymore. The tickling on his feet was too intense, and he was out of breath, his body shaking with uncontrollable giggles.
“I give up! I give up!” Ron gasped, his voice barely audible through his laughter.
At Ron’s surrender, Draco immediately stopped, releasing Ron’s ankle and sitting back with a triumphant grin. He stood up, brushing the grass off his robes as he looked down at Ron, who was still lying on the ground, panting and trying to catch his breath.
The crowd erupted into wild applause, cheering for Draco’s victory and Ron’s valiant effort. The Slytherin section was especially loud, chanting Draco’s name as he stood over his opponent.
Draco, ever the showman, smirked down at Ron before placing his foot on Ron’s chest in a gesture of victory. “Better luck next time, Weasley,” Draco said, his voice smug.
Ron, still catching his breath, glared up at Draco.
"Merlin, I hate you."
Draco smirked in return. "I hate you too."
Draco Malfoy had claimed victory, but Ron Weasley had put up a fight that no one would forget. The rivalry between them was far from over, but for today, Draco stood victorious—his foot on Ron’s chest and his smirk as wide as ever.
Up in the stands, the Gryffindor and Slytherin sections were buzzing. Fred and George Weasley were already cracking jokes, cheering their brother on, while Draco’s Slytherin friends—Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Vincent Crabbe—watched with smug confidence, sure that their champion would crush Ron.
“I’ll give him three minutes,” George said, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. “There’s no way Ron lets Malfoy get the upper hand for longer than that.”
Fred chuckled. “Or maybe Malfoy will finally get what’s coming to him. This has been a long time coming.”
Hermione, sitting beside Harry, was biting her lip nervously, though she still managed a small smile. “I’m sure Ron will give it everything he’s got.”
Harry, sitting quietly beside her, nodded. “This is going to be intense.”
The atmosphere in the stadium grew louder as the two competitors finally made their way onto the field. Draco Malfoy, with his signature sneer, looked as though he already considered himself the victor. His platinum-blond hair gleamed in the afternoon sun as he raised his arms, basking in the cheers from the Slytherin section.
Ron, in contrast, wore a look of determination, his jaw clenched as he strode onto the field. This wasn’t just about winning the tournament for him—this was personal. Ron had spent years enduring Malfoy’s taunts, and now he had the chance to settle things in front of the entire school.
The two stood across from each other, glaring.
“Ready to lose, Weasley?” Draco taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “You wish, Malfoy. I’m about to wipe that smirk off your face.”
Professor Dumbledore stepped forward to officiate, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Welcome, students, to another exciting quarterfinal match in the Triwizard Tickle Tournament! Today, we have two fierce competitors—Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy! The rules are simple: the first to surrender to uncontrollable laughter loses. May the best tickler win!”
The crowd erupted into cheers as Dumbledore raised his wand. A small firework shot into the sky, signaling the start of the match.
Neither Ron nor Draco wasted any time. As soon as the signal was given, they lunged at each other with the kind of ferocity that only years of rivalry could fuel. The audience gasped as the two immediately began grappling, their bodies locked in a fierce struggle as they tried to gain the upper hand.
Draco was quick, his lithe form darting around Ron as he attempted to grab hold of his sides. But Ron was stronger, and he wasn’t about to let Draco gain the advantage so easily. He twisted out of Draco’s grasp, reaching for Draco’s ribs in return, his fingers brushing against Draco’s side and eliciting a sharp gasp of laughter.
“Come on, Malfoy! I know you’re ticklish!” Ron taunted, a grin breaking through his serious expression.
Draco responded with a growl, slapping Ron’s hand away before diving at him again. This time, he managed to catch Ron’s arm, pulling him close and trying to tickle his ribs. Ron laughed involuntarily, but he quickly jerked free, grappling with Draco in return.
For the next few minutes, the two wrestled fiercely, their bodies twisting and turning as they tried to gain control of one another. Draco’s quick reflexes allowed him to dodge some of Ron’s attacks, but Ron’s strength made it difficult for Draco to keep him pinned for long. Every time one of them managed to get the upper hand, the other would counter, rolling them both over and reversing the positions.
The crowd was on the edge of their seats, watching the back-and-forth struggle with rapt attention. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were shouting encouragement to their respective champions, while the rest of the students cheered and laughed at the intensity of the match.
Draco, his hair now disheveled and his face flushed, finally managed to push Ron onto his back, straddling him as he reached for Ron’s sides. His fingers dug into Ron’s ribs, and Ron let out a loud burst of laughter, his body writhing beneath Draco’s weight.
“Ticklish, Weasley?” Draco sneered, his voice strained as he tried to maintain control.
But Ron wasn’t about to give up so easily. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his body sharply, knocking Draco off balance. The two rolled over again, their limbs tangled as they wrestled for dominance. Ron managed to get on top, his hands quickly finding Draco’s ribs and tickling him in return.
Draco’s laughter echoed across the pitch as Ron’s fingers found the sensitive spots along his ribs and sides. “We’ll see who’s ticklish now!” Ron shouted, his voice triumphant as Draco squirmed beneath him.
For a moment, it seemed like Ron might have the upper hand. But Draco, ever the cunning Slytherin, managed to hook his leg around Ron’s, using the leverage to flip them both over once more. Now, Draco was on top again, his fingers immediately returning to Ron’s ribs.
The two continued to grapple fiercely, rolling across the grass in a flurry of limbs and laughter. Every time one of them seemed to gain control, the other would break free, and the match continued in an intense back-and-forth struggle.
After several minutes of intense grappling, both boys were breathless, their faces red and their laughter loud and uncontrollable. But neither was willing to give in. The match had reached a stalemate, and the crowd was growing more excited by the second.
Then, almost simultaneously, both Ron and Draco reached for the other’s feet.
Draco grabbed hold of Ron’s ankle just as Ron caught Draco’s foot in return. The two boys locked eyes, both realizing that they had the same idea—target the most ticklish spot.
Without another word, they both began tickling each other’s feet, their fingers working furiously over the sensitive skin.
Ron let out a loud, involuntary laugh as Draco’s fingers danced over his sole, brushing against his arch and toes with expert precision. The ticklish sensation shot up his legs, making it impossible for him to keep still. His body jerked and squirmed as he tried to focus on tickling Draco’s feet in return.
Draco, meanwhile, was laughing just as hard. Ron’s fingers moved quickly over his foot, tickling his arch and the spaces between his toes. His body shook with uncontrollable laughter, and he kicked out with his free leg, trying to dislodge Ron’s grip.
The crowd watched in awe as the two boys continued their ticklish assault on each other’s feet, their bodies writhing and twisting as they laughed uncontrollably. It was a battle of endurance now—who could last the longest?
For minutes, the two were locked in the bizarre yet intense struggle, their fingers moving relentlessly over each other’s feet. Laughter filled the stadium as both Ron and Draco fought to maintain their composure, but the tickling was too intense. Their faces were flushed, their bodies trembling with laughter, but neither was willing to give in.
Draco’s eyes narrowed as he focused all his energy on tickling Ron’s feet. He knew he had to push Ron to his limit, and he wasn’t about to lose to him—especially not in front of the entire school.
Ron, for his part, was determined to make Draco laugh even harder, his fingers working furiously over Draco’s foot. But the sensation of Draco’s fingers on his own feet was becoming too much to bear. His laughter grew louder, more desperate, and he could feel his resolve weakening.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of laughter, Ron couldn’t take it anymore. The tickling on his feet was too intense, and he was out of breath, his body shaking with uncontrollable giggles.
“I give up! I give up!” Ron gasped, his voice barely audible through his laughter.
At Ron’s surrender, Draco immediately stopped, releasing Ron’s ankle and sitting back with a triumphant grin. He stood up, brushing the grass off his robes as he looked down at Ron, who was still lying on the ground, panting and trying to catch his breath.
The crowd erupted into wild applause, cheering for Draco’s victory and Ron’s valiant effort. The Slytherin section was especially loud, chanting Draco’s name as he stood over his opponent.
Draco, ever the showman, smirked down at Ron before placing his foot on Ron’s chest in a gesture of victory. “Better luck next time, Weasley,” Draco said, his voice smug.
Ron, still catching his breath, glared up at Draco.
"Merlin, I hate you."
Draco smirked in return. "I hate you too."
Draco Malfoy had claimed victory, but Ron Weasley had put up a fight that no one would forget. The rivalry between them was far from over, but for today, Draco stood victorious—his foot on Ron’s chest and his smirk as wide as ever.
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