Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Triwizard Tickling Tournament
In the next semifinal match of the tournament, Harry Potter was set to face off against Fred Weasley—a matchup that had Gryffindor house buzzing with excitement. Fred, ever the prankster and well-versed in all things mischievous, was seen by many as one of the tournament’s strongest contenders.
Harry, determined and quick-witted as ever, wasn’t about to let Fred’s reputation intimidate him.
The Gryffindor section of the stands was packed with students cheering on both competitors, making it difficult to tell which side had more support. Ron, Hermione, and George were among the loudest, shouting encouragement for both Harry and Fred. George had been joking all morning about how he expected his twin to give Harry a run for his money, but now, as the two competitors took their places on the pitch, even he looked slightly nervous.
“You got this, Fred!” George hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth to make himself heard.
Ron, watching Harry with a look of steely determination, muttered, “Harry won’t go down that easily.”
Hermione shook her head with a slight smile, glancing between Harry and Fred. “This is going to be close.”
As the two Gryffindors prepared to face each other, their eyes met, each wearing a grin that was both friendly and fiercely competitive. Fred, already brimming with energy, gave Harry a mock bow.
“Ready to get tickled into surrender, Potter?” Fred said, winking.
Harry smirked, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. “Bring it on, Weasley.”
Professor Dumbledore, standing between them, raised his hand to quiet the crowd.
“Welcome, students, to another exciting match in the Triwizard Tickle Tournament! Today, we have Harry Potter facing off against Fred Weasley! As always, the first to surrender to uncontrollable laughter loses the match. May the best tickler win!”
With a flick of his wand, a small firework shot into the sky, signaling the start of the match.
From the moment the signal was given, Fred sprang into action. He was fast—faster than Harry had anticipated—and within seconds, he had tackled Harry to the ground. Before Harry could fully register what was happening, Fred had him pinned, his hands darting to Harry’s sides with the precision of a seasoned prankster.
Harry’s eyes widened as Fred’s fingers began their assault on his ribs, tickling him with relentless accuracy. He let out a surprised laugh, his body jerking involuntarily as Fred’s fingers pressed into his ribs and sides, targeting every sensitive spot.
“Come on, Harry!” Fred teased, grinning as he continued his ticklish attack. “I thought you’d be tougher than this!”
Harry struggled beneath Fred’s weight, laughter spilling out of him as he tried to pull free. Fred’s fingers moved with lightning speed, never giving him a moment to catch his breath. Every time Harry tried to twist away, Fred adjusted his grip, his fingers skittering over Harry’s ribs and sides with unrelenting precision.
The crowd was roaring with laughter and cheers, watching as Harry’s usual calm demeanor crumbled under Fred’s ticklish onslaught. Gryffindors were chanting Fred’s name, convinced that he had the match in the bag.
“Admit it, Harry,” Fred taunted, his voice full of playful confidence. “You’re about to give up!”
Harry’s laughter was loud and desperate, his face flushed as he struggled to pull free. Fred’s fingers continued to dance over his ribs, sending shockwaves of ticklish sensations through his body. It seemed like Fred had complete control, and for a moment, it appeared as though Harry might actually be defeated.
But Harry wasn’t ready to give up.
As Fred continued his relentless tickling, Harry’s hand brushed against Fred’s inner thigh in an attempt to push him off. The contact was accidental, but the reaction was immediate. Fred let out a sharp yelp, his body jolting as if he’d been shocked by a live wire. The ticklish sensation from Harry’s touch caused Fred to flinch, and for a brief moment, his concentration faltered.
Sensing the shift in momentum, Harry seized the opportunity. Using Fred’s momentary distraction to his advantage, he twisted out from under him, breaking free from Fred’s hold. Fred, caught off guard by the sudden move, stumbled slightly as Harry scrambled to his feet.
Harry, now fully back in control, grabbed hold of Fred’s ankles, lifting them slightly off the ground. Before Fred could react, Harry stood up, holding Fred’s legs in a way that kept his hands out of reach. This position gave Harry a clear advantage, preventing Fred from using his arms to fight back.
The crowd watched in amazement as Harry turned the tables, holding Fred’s ankles firmly as he prepared for his counterattack.
“Now it’s my turn,” Harry said, a grin spreading across his face.
Without wasting a moment, Harry’s fingers went to work on Fred’s feet. He began tickling the soles with relentless speed, his fingers scribbling and spidering across the sensitive skin. Fred’s reaction was immediate—his body jolted, and he let out a loud, involuntary laugh, his face contorting in surprise and amusement.
“Harry—no—!” Fred gasped, his voice breaking into fits of laughter as Harry’s fingers continued their assault on his feet.
Harry’s fingers skittered across Fred’s arches, moving up and down with the precision of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. He raked his nails along Fred’s soles, sending waves of ticklish sensations through him that left him helplessly laughing.
The Gryffindors in the stands were on their feet, cheering for Harry as he maintained his control. Even George, who had been cheering for Fred earlier, couldn’t help but laugh at his twin’s predicament.
Fred’s laughter grew louder, more desperate, as Harry’s fingers moved over his feet with unrelenting speed. Every time Harry’s fingers brushed against his arches or toes, Fred’s body jerked, and his laughter filled the stadium.
“Come on, Fred,” Harry taunted, his grin widening as he continued to tickle Fred’s feet. “You were so confident a minute ago.”
Fred’s face was flushed, his body trembling as he tried to kick his legs free, but Harry’s grip was firm. The ticklish sensation was overwhelming, and Fred’s laughter grew more frantic with each passing second.
After several minutes of intense tickling, Fred’s resistance began to wane. His laughter was now breathless, his body shaking as he struggled to endure the ticklish onslaught. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“I give up! I give up!” Fred gasped, his voice barely audible through his laughter.
At Fred’s surrender, Harry immediately released his hold, stepping back with a triumphant grin as the Gryffindors erupted into wild applause. The cheers from the crowd were deafening as Harry stood over Fred, who lay on the ground, still giggling softly as he tried to catch his breath.
George, still laughing, shook his head in disbelief. “Well, that was unexpected. Didn’t think I’d see Fred give up like that.”
Ron, beaming with pride, clapped his hands and shouted, “Nice one, Harry!”
Back on the field, Harry extended a hand to Fred, helping him to his feet as the two shared a friendly grin.
“Good match,” Harry said, giving Fred a playful clap on the back.
Fred, still catching his breath, chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. You got lucky, Potter.”
As the two walked off the pitch together, still exchanging banter, the crowd continued to cheer, already buzzing with excitement for the next round of the Triwizard Tickle Tournament.
For now, Harry Potter had claimed victory, but Fred Weasley had shown that he was a formidable competitor, and a friend who knew how to keep things interesting.
Harry, determined and quick-witted as ever, wasn’t about to let Fred’s reputation intimidate him.
The Gryffindor section of the stands was packed with students cheering on both competitors, making it difficult to tell which side had more support. Ron, Hermione, and George were among the loudest, shouting encouragement for both Harry and Fred. George had been joking all morning about how he expected his twin to give Harry a run for his money, but now, as the two competitors took their places on the pitch, even he looked slightly nervous.
“You got this, Fred!” George hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth to make himself heard.
Ron, watching Harry with a look of steely determination, muttered, “Harry won’t go down that easily.”
Hermione shook her head with a slight smile, glancing between Harry and Fred. “This is going to be close.”
As the two Gryffindors prepared to face each other, their eyes met, each wearing a grin that was both friendly and fiercely competitive. Fred, already brimming with energy, gave Harry a mock bow.
“Ready to get tickled into surrender, Potter?” Fred said, winking.
Harry smirked, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. “Bring it on, Weasley.”
Professor Dumbledore, standing between them, raised his hand to quiet the crowd.
“Welcome, students, to another exciting match in the Triwizard Tickle Tournament! Today, we have Harry Potter facing off against Fred Weasley! As always, the first to surrender to uncontrollable laughter loses the match. May the best tickler win!”
With a flick of his wand, a small firework shot into the sky, signaling the start of the match.
From the moment the signal was given, Fred sprang into action. He was fast—faster than Harry had anticipated—and within seconds, he had tackled Harry to the ground. Before Harry could fully register what was happening, Fred had him pinned, his hands darting to Harry’s sides with the precision of a seasoned prankster.
Harry’s eyes widened as Fred’s fingers began their assault on his ribs, tickling him with relentless accuracy. He let out a surprised laugh, his body jerking involuntarily as Fred’s fingers pressed into his ribs and sides, targeting every sensitive spot.
“Come on, Harry!” Fred teased, grinning as he continued his ticklish attack. “I thought you’d be tougher than this!”
Harry struggled beneath Fred’s weight, laughter spilling out of him as he tried to pull free. Fred’s fingers moved with lightning speed, never giving him a moment to catch his breath. Every time Harry tried to twist away, Fred adjusted his grip, his fingers skittering over Harry’s ribs and sides with unrelenting precision.
The crowd was roaring with laughter and cheers, watching as Harry’s usual calm demeanor crumbled under Fred’s ticklish onslaught. Gryffindors were chanting Fred’s name, convinced that he had the match in the bag.
“Admit it, Harry,” Fred taunted, his voice full of playful confidence. “You’re about to give up!”
Harry’s laughter was loud and desperate, his face flushed as he struggled to pull free. Fred’s fingers continued to dance over his ribs, sending shockwaves of ticklish sensations through his body. It seemed like Fred had complete control, and for a moment, it appeared as though Harry might actually be defeated.
But Harry wasn’t ready to give up.
As Fred continued his relentless tickling, Harry’s hand brushed against Fred’s inner thigh in an attempt to push him off. The contact was accidental, but the reaction was immediate. Fred let out a sharp yelp, his body jolting as if he’d been shocked by a live wire. The ticklish sensation from Harry’s touch caused Fred to flinch, and for a brief moment, his concentration faltered.
Sensing the shift in momentum, Harry seized the opportunity. Using Fred’s momentary distraction to his advantage, he twisted out from under him, breaking free from Fred’s hold. Fred, caught off guard by the sudden move, stumbled slightly as Harry scrambled to his feet.
Harry, now fully back in control, grabbed hold of Fred’s ankles, lifting them slightly off the ground. Before Fred could react, Harry stood up, holding Fred’s legs in a way that kept his hands out of reach. This position gave Harry a clear advantage, preventing Fred from using his arms to fight back.
The crowd watched in amazement as Harry turned the tables, holding Fred’s ankles firmly as he prepared for his counterattack.
“Now it’s my turn,” Harry said, a grin spreading across his face.
Without wasting a moment, Harry’s fingers went to work on Fred’s feet. He began tickling the soles with relentless speed, his fingers scribbling and spidering across the sensitive skin. Fred’s reaction was immediate—his body jolted, and he let out a loud, involuntary laugh, his face contorting in surprise and amusement.
“Harry—no—!” Fred gasped, his voice breaking into fits of laughter as Harry’s fingers continued their assault on his feet.
Harry’s fingers skittered across Fred’s arches, moving up and down with the precision of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. He raked his nails along Fred’s soles, sending waves of ticklish sensations through him that left him helplessly laughing.
The Gryffindors in the stands were on their feet, cheering for Harry as he maintained his control. Even George, who had been cheering for Fred earlier, couldn’t help but laugh at his twin’s predicament.
Fred’s laughter grew louder, more desperate, as Harry’s fingers moved over his feet with unrelenting speed. Every time Harry’s fingers brushed against his arches or toes, Fred’s body jerked, and his laughter filled the stadium.
“Come on, Fred,” Harry taunted, his grin widening as he continued to tickle Fred’s feet. “You were so confident a minute ago.”
Fred’s face was flushed, his body trembling as he tried to kick his legs free, but Harry’s grip was firm. The ticklish sensation was overwhelming, and Fred’s laughter grew more frantic with each passing second.
After several minutes of intense tickling, Fred’s resistance began to wane. His laughter was now breathless, his body shaking as he struggled to endure the ticklish onslaught. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“I give up! I give up!” Fred gasped, his voice barely audible through his laughter.
At Fred’s surrender, Harry immediately released his hold, stepping back with a triumphant grin as the Gryffindors erupted into wild applause. The cheers from the crowd were deafening as Harry stood over Fred, who lay on the ground, still giggling softly as he tried to catch his breath.
George, still laughing, shook his head in disbelief. “Well, that was unexpected. Didn’t think I’d see Fred give up like that.”
Ron, beaming with pride, clapped his hands and shouted, “Nice one, Harry!”
Back on the field, Harry extended a hand to Fred, helping him to his feet as the two shared a friendly grin.
“Good match,” Harry said, giving Fred a playful clap on the back.
Fred, still catching his breath, chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. You got lucky, Potter.”
As the two walked off the pitch together, still exchanging banter, the crowd continued to cheer, already buzzing with excitement for the next round of the Triwizard Tickle Tournament.
For now, Harry Potter had claimed victory, but Fred Weasley had shown that he was a formidable competitor, and a friend who knew how to keep things interesting.
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