Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Triwizard Tickling Tournament
The Triwizard Tickle Tournament had become an unprecedented spectacle at Hogwarts. What started as a quirky competition had escalated into a school-wide obsession, with students from every house filling the stands to witness the final match. This wasn’t just any match—this was the clash everyone had been waiting for: Harry Potter versus Draco Malfoy. It was a showdown that went beyond house rivalries, personal grudges, or even the tournament itself. This was the match that would determine not only the winner of the tournament but also who would emerge as the ultimate tickler—and more importantly, who would surrender in a flurry of laughter.
The Quidditch pitch was packed. Gryffindor and Slytherin sections were the loudest, chanting the names of their champions with unwavering pride. Harry’s friends—Ron, Hermione, and Ginny—were perched on the edge of their seats, shouting encouragement as they watched the pitch with bated breath. Across the stadium, the Slytherins, led by Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Crabbe, wore smug expressions, already confident in Draco’s victory.
As Harry and Draco stepped onto the pitch, the atmosphere buzzed with electricity. Both boys had fought tooth and nail to reach this point. The tension between them was palpable—this wasn’t just a contest of skill, but a continuation of their years-long rivalry. Whoever won today wouldn’t just claim victory in the tournament, but also a symbolic win over their lifelong adversary.
Professor Dumbledore, acting as the master of ceremonies, stood between them, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Welcome, students, to the final match of the Triwizard Tickle Tournament! Today, we witness the clash between two of Hogwarts’ finest—Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy! This match will be a best of three falls. May the best tickler win!”
The crowd roared as Harry and Draco faced each other, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. Neither of them would back down. This was it—the final battle.
Dumbledore raised his hand, signaling the start of the match. “Let the tickling begin!”
The moment the signal was given, Draco pounced. He was quick—quicker than Harry had anticipated—and within seconds, Draco had tackled Harry to the ground. The crowd gasped as Draco expertly pinned Harry’s legs, grabbing hold of his ankles and locking them in place. Harry tried to wriggle free, but Draco’s grip was strong, his smirk widening as he prepared his attack.
“Thought you could escape me, Potter?” Draco taunted, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.
Before Harry could respond, Draco’s fingers began to skitter across the soles of Harry’s feet. The effect was immediate. Harry’s body jerked, and he let out a loud, involuntary laugh as Draco’s fingers traced along his arches, tickling him with relentless precision.
“Draco—stop—!” Harry gasped between fits of laughter, his body twisting as he tried to pull his feet free.
But Draco wasn’t about to let up. His fingers moved faster, dancing over Harry’s soles, teasing the sensitive skin with maddening accuracy. Every time Draco’s fingers brushed against Harry’s arches or his toes, a fresh wave of laughter burst from Harry’s chest.
“You know you can’t hold out,” Draco sneered, his fingers now moving in intricate patterns over Harry’s feet. “Just give up.”
Harry’s face was flushed, his body shaking with uncontrollable laughter. He tried to pull his legs free, but Draco’s grip remained firm, and the ticklish sensation was too overwhelming. Draco’s fingers kept up the relentless pace, and after what felt like an eternity of laughter, Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
“I give up!” Harry gasped, his voice breaking into helpless giggles. “I give up!”
At Harry’s surrender, Draco immediately released his hold, standing up with a triumphant grin as the crowd erupted into cheers. The Slytherins were particularly loud, shouting Draco’s name as he basked in the glory of winning the first fall.
“1-0,” Draco said smugly, giving Harry a mocking look. “Don’t make this too easy, Potter.”
Harry, still catching his breath, shot Draco a determined look.
“We’ll see about that.”
As the second fall began, Harry knew he had to switch tactics. Draco had dominated the first round, but Harry wasn’t going to let him walk away with an easy win. This time, Harry took the initiative. The moment Dumbledore signaled the start, Harry darted forward, tackling Draco to the ground before he could react.
Draco let out a surprised grunt as Harry grabbed his ankles, pinning him in place just as Draco had done to him moments earlier. Now, it was Harry’s turn.
“You like to tickle feet, don’t you, Malfoy?” Harry said with a grin, his voice filled with playful challenge. “Let’s see how you handle it.”
Without waiting for a response, Harry’s fingers went to work. He scribbled and spidered his fingers all over Draco’s soles, his nails raking up and down with relentless speed. The effect was immediate—Draco let out a loud, outrageous laugh, his body jerking as Harry’s fingers explored every ticklish spot on his feet.
“Potter—no—!” Draco gasped, his head thrown back as laughter poured out of him. Every time Harry’s nails made contact with his feet, Draco’s body convulsed with uncontrollable laughter.
Harry’s grin widened as he watched Draco squirm beneath him. His fingers moved faster, raking up and down Draco’s feet, from his heels to his toes, never giving him a moment to catch his breath.
The crowd was on its feet, watching in amazement as Harry maintained control. The Gryffindors cheered loudly, chanting Harry’s name as he continued his ticklish assault on Draco’s feet.
Draco’s laughter grew more frantic, his body trembling with the intensity of it. He kicked out with his legs, but Harry’s grip was firm, and the ticklish sensation was overwhelming. After several minutes of nonstop tickling, Draco finally reached his breaking point.
“I give up!” Draco gasped, his voice hoarse from laughter. “I give up!”
At Draco’s surrender, Harry released him, standing up with a triumphant smile as the Gryffindors erupted into wild applause.
“1-1,” Harry said, his voice calm but confident. “Looks like we’re tied.”
Draco, still catching his breath, gave Harry a cold glare.
“This isn’t over.”
The third and final fall was the one that would decide everything. Both Harry and Draco knew they had to give it their all. They were exhausted from the first two rounds, their bodies aching from the effort, but neither was willing to back down.
As Dumbledore signaled the start of the third fall, Harry and Draco lunged at each other, their bodies crashing together in a flurry of movement. They rolled across the grass, each trying to gain the upper hand. The crowd watched in tense silence as the two boys grappled, gaining and losing control with every roll.
For several minutes, the match was a stalemate. Harry managed to get on top of Draco for a brief moment, tickling his sides and ribs, but Draco quickly countered, rolling them over and launching his own ticklish assault on Harry’s ribs. Neither boy could maintain control for long, and the match became a chaotic back-and-forth struggle.
Both of them were spent, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. The tickling was relentless, and their laughter filled the air, but neither of them was willing to surrender.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of rolling and grappling, Draco managed to gain the upper hand. He pinned Harry beneath him, grabbing hold of Harry’s wrists and stacking them above his head.
“You’re done, Potter,” Draco panted, his voice filled with determination.
Before Harry could respond, Draco used his free hand to tickle Harry’s underarms. His fingers moved quickly, skittering over the sensitive skin with ruthless precision. Harry’s reaction was immediate—his body convulsed with laughter, and he squirmed beneath Draco’s hold, but he was too weak to break free.
Draco’s fingers continued their assault on Harry’s underarms, and Harry’s laughter grew louder, more desperate. His body trembled as he tried to twist away, but Draco’s grip was firm, and the ticklish sensation was too much for him to handle.
“Draco—stop—!” Harry gasped, his voice barely audible through his laughter.
But Draco wasn’t stopping. His fingers moved faster, tickling Harry’s underarms with maddening precision. Harry’s body shook beneath him, and after several minutes of intense tickling, Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
“I give up!” Harry gasped, his voice breathless with laughter. “I give up!”
At Harry’s surrender, Draco immediately stopped, collapsing on top of Harry, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The crowd erupted into cheers, the Slytherins chanting Draco’s name as he lay on top of Harry, completely spent.
For several minutes, neither of them moved. Their chests rose and fell rapidly as they lay there, exhausted from the intense battle. Finally, Draco pushed himself up, staring down at Harry with unblinking eyes.
“Now…say it,” Draco demanded, his voice low and strained.
Harry, still panting, looked up at Draco with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. “You win,” he admitted.
Draco grinned triumphantly, standing up and raising his arms as the crowd erupted into wild applause. He had done it.
Draco Malfoy had won the Triwizard Tickle Tournament. And not only had he beaten Harry, but he had also bested Hermione and Ron earlier in the tournament, giving Slytherin the ultimate victory.
As Draco took in the cheers and applause, he realized what his victory meant, 25,000 house points for Slytherin. It was a victory that would go down in history, and Draco Malfoy had proven himself as the ultimate champion of the Triwizard Tickle Tournament.
The Quidditch pitch was packed. Gryffindor and Slytherin sections were the loudest, chanting the names of their champions with unwavering pride. Harry’s friends—Ron, Hermione, and Ginny—were perched on the edge of their seats, shouting encouragement as they watched the pitch with bated breath. Across the stadium, the Slytherins, led by Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Crabbe, wore smug expressions, already confident in Draco’s victory.
As Harry and Draco stepped onto the pitch, the atmosphere buzzed with electricity. Both boys had fought tooth and nail to reach this point. The tension between them was palpable—this wasn’t just a contest of skill, but a continuation of their years-long rivalry. Whoever won today wouldn’t just claim victory in the tournament, but also a symbolic win over their lifelong adversary.
Professor Dumbledore, acting as the master of ceremonies, stood between them, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Welcome, students, to the final match of the Triwizard Tickle Tournament! Today, we witness the clash between two of Hogwarts’ finest—Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy! This match will be a best of three falls. May the best tickler win!”
The crowd roared as Harry and Draco faced each other, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. Neither of them would back down. This was it—the final battle.
Dumbledore raised his hand, signaling the start of the match. “Let the tickling begin!”
The moment the signal was given, Draco pounced. He was quick—quicker than Harry had anticipated—and within seconds, Draco had tackled Harry to the ground. The crowd gasped as Draco expertly pinned Harry’s legs, grabbing hold of his ankles and locking them in place. Harry tried to wriggle free, but Draco’s grip was strong, his smirk widening as he prepared his attack.
“Thought you could escape me, Potter?” Draco taunted, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.
Before Harry could respond, Draco’s fingers began to skitter across the soles of Harry’s feet. The effect was immediate. Harry’s body jerked, and he let out a loud, involuntary laugh as Draco’s fingers traced along his arches, tickling him with relentless precision.
“Draco—stop—!” Harry gasped between fits of laughter, his body twisting as he tried to pull his feet free.
But Draco wasn’t about to let up. His fingers moved faster, dancing over Harry’s soles, teasing the sensitive skin with maddening accuracy. Every time Draco’s fingers brushed against Harry’s arches or his toes, a fresh wave of laughter burst from Harry’s chest.
“You know you can’t hold out,” Draco sneered, his fingers now moving in intricate patterns over Harry’s feet. “Just give up.”
Harry’s face was flushed, his body shaking with uncontrollable laughter. He tried to pull his legs free, but Draco’s grip remained firm, and the ticklish sensation was too overwhelming. Draco’s fingers kept up the relentless pace, and after what felt like an eternity of laughter, Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
“I give up!” Harry gasped, his voice breaking into helpless giggles. “I give up!”
At Harry’s surrender, Draco immediately released his hold, standing up with a triumphant grin as the crowd erupted into cheers. The Slytherins were particularly loud, shouting Draco’s name as he basked in the glory of winning the first fall.
“1-0,” Draco said smugly, giving Harry a mocking look. “Don’t make this too easy, Potter.”
Harry, still catching his breath, shot Draco a determined look.
“We’ll see about that.”
As the second fall began, Harry knew he had to switch tactics. Draco had dominated the first round, but Harry wasn’t going to let him walk away with an easy win. This time, Harry took the initiative. The moment Dumbledore signaled the start, Harry darted forward, tackling Draco to the ground before he could react.
Draco let out a surprised grunt as Harry grabbed his ankles, pinning him in place just as Draco had done to him moments earlier. Now, it was Harry’s turn.
“You like to tickle feet, don’t you, Malfoy?” Harry said with a grin, his voice filled with playful challenge. “Let’s see how you handle it.”
Without waiting for a response, Harry’s fingers went to work. He scribbled and spidered his fingers all over Draco’s soles, his nails raking up and down with relentless speed. The effect was immediate—Draco let out a loud, outrageous laugh, his body jerking as Harry’s fingers explored every ticklish spot on his feet.
“Potter—no—!” Draco gasped, his head thrown back as laughter poured out of him. Every time Harry’s nails made contact with his feet, Draco’s body convulsed with uncontrollable laughter.
Harry’s grin widened as he watched Draco squirm beneath him. His fingers moved faster, raking up and down Draco’s feet, from his heels to his toes, never giving him a moment to catch his breath.
The crowd was on its feet, watching in amazement as Harry maintained control. The Gryffindors cheered loudly, chanting Harry’s name as he continued his ticklish assault on Draco’s feet.
Draco’s laughter grew more frantic, his body trembling with the intensity of it. He kicked out with his legs, but Harry’s grip was firm, and the ticklish sensation was overwhelming. After several minutes of nonstop tickling, Draco finally reached his breaking point.
“I give up!” Draco gasped, his voice hoarse from laughter. “I give up!”
At Draco’s surrender, Harry released him, standing up with a triumphant smile as the Gryffindors erupted into wild applause.
“1-1,” Harry said, his voice calm but confident. “Looks like we’re tied.”
Draco, still catching his breath, gave Harry a cold glare.
“This isn’t over.”
The third and final fall was the one that would decide everything. Both Harry and Draco knew they had to give it their all. They were exhausted from the first two rounds, their bodies aching from the effort, but neither was willing to back down.
As Dumbledore signaled the start of the third fall, Harry and Draco lunged at each other, their bodies crashing together in a flurry of movement. They rolled across the grass, each trying to gain the upper hand. The crowd watched in tense silence as the two boys grappled, gaining and losing control with every roll.
For several minutes, the match was a stalemate. Harry managed to get on top of Draco for a brief moment, tickling his sides and ribs, but Draco quickly countered, rolling them over and launching his own ticklish assault on Harry’s ribs. Neither boy could maintain control for long, and the match became a chaotic back-and-forth struggle.
Both of them were spent, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. The tickling was relentless, and their laughter filled the air, but neither of them was willing to surrender.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of rolling and grappling, Draco managed to gain the upper hand. He pinned Harry beneath him, grabbing hold of Harry’s wrists and stacking them above his head.
“You’re done, Potter,” Draco panted, his voice filled with determination.
Before Harry could respond, Draco used his free hand to tickle Harry’s underarms. His fingers moved quickly, skittering over the sensitive skin with ruthless precision. Harry’s reaction was immediate—his body convulsed with laughter, and he squirmed beneath Draco’s hold, but he was too weak to break free.
Draco’s fingers continued their assault on Harry’s underarms, and Harry’s laughter grew louder, more desperate. His body trembled as he tried to twist away, but Draco’s grip was firm, and the ticklish sensation was too much for him to handle.
“Draco—stop—!” Harry gasped, his voice barely audible through his laughter.
But Draco wasn’t stopping. His fingers moved faster, tickling Harry’s underarms with maddening precision. Harry’s body shook beneath him, and after several minutes of intense tickling, Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
“I give up!” Harry gasped, his voice breathless with laughter. “I give up!”
At Harry’s surrender, Draco immediately stopped, collapsing on top of Harry, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The crowd erupted into cheers, the Slytherins chanting Draco’s name as he lay on top of Harry, completely spent.
For several minutes, neither of them moved. Their chests rose and fell rapidly as they lay there, exhausted from the intense battle. Finally, Draco pushed himself up, staring down at Harry with unblinking eyes.
“Now…say it,” Draco demanded, his voice low and strained.
Harry, still panting, looked up at Draco with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. “You win,” he admitted.
Draco grinned triumphantly, standing up and raising his arms as the crowd erupted into wild applause. He had done it.
Draco Malfoy had won the Triwizard Tickle Tournament. And not only had he beaten Harry, but he had also bested Hermione and Ron earlier in the tournament, giving Slytherin the ultimate victory.
As Draco took in the cheers and applause, he realized what his victory meant, 25,000 house points for Slytherin. It was a victory that would go down in history, and Draco Malfoy had proven himself as the ultimate champion of the Triwizard Tickle Tournament.
Sign up to rate and review this story