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Chapter Text

Of all of Kenny’s new roommates up in Gryffindor Tower, he would definitely say that he had the most in common with his fellow muggleborn Dennis Creevey. Even then, the problem was that Dennis was a sweetheart who came from an honest, hardworking family that lived on a farm. Kenny’s family was more of the white trash, redneck, lived-in-the-mountains type of folks. In other words, they were nothing alike. 

Now, this didn’t necessarily mean that Kenny had any problems with his roommates. They were all nice enough —even the socially inept Charles Urquhart managed to get that across— but all the magic in the world couldn’t mask how normal they all were (and trust him, there was a lot of it). So, maybe that was the heart of it. Kenny had problems with his roommates because no one had problems with him. He would actually have preferred staying in a room with his asshole friends. And wasn’t that totally fucked up. 

Plus, there was the issue of sharing his room for the next seven years. Not that Kenny had ever caught sight of the so-called lap of luxury, but even living with two other siblings and their two deadbeat drunks for parents hadn’t stopped him from being able to have his own room. Busted up and shitty as it was, at least it was his . 

Alyn belched out a high note from the bathroom next door, the shower a backdrop to his singing as Kenny winced, no longer dozing off and fully awake. Dennis let out a sudden bark of laughter when Alyn’s voice cracked in the middle of a whole note, and Charles dropped one of his fancy rich-boy shoes, making it clatter as it hit the floor. 

That was another thing. Gryffindors were so loud. Granted, South Park wasn’t quiet either, especially when his parents or his friends were involved. However, there was a certain beauty to the silent stillness of the city from the rooftops at night. If there were places like that here at Hogwarts, then he hadn’t found it yet. 

(This wasn’t even beginning to get into the entire Wizarding World’s completely manic obsession with anything and everything Harry Potter. Dude’s fourteen and looked like a strong gust of wind might blow him over, and Kenny just didn’t understand the appeal. Wizards seriously had a problem.)

So, needless to say, Kenny McCormick was not having the best of times at his new school. 

“We have to find a way to trick that Age Line!”

He couldn’t decide which was worse, though, dealing with overly friendly Gryffindors or going along with one of Eric Cartman’s money schemes, much as he preferred his long-time friends. This time, Eric wanted to tackle hacking the Triwizard Tournament. 

Eric stroked his newly instated beard (courtesy of the aforementioned Age Line). Why he hadn’t gotten it cut off yet, Kenny didn’t know. He was nursing the theory that the fatass actually thought it rather suited him. 

Which it didn’t, for the record. 

“I already told you, there’s no way to trick the Age Line, you dumb piece of shit. Fucking Dumbledore made it!” And there’s Kyle, just as he’s always been, only now with blue-trimmed robes and wearing the only wizard hat in their group. His red hair peeked out from under it, barely contained. 

Eric scoffed. “Yeah, right. Kyle, I know you just want your grubby little Jew hands all over that prize money so you can take it for yourself. And let me tell you,” he leaned in, finger pointing at the Ravenclaw, “I’m on to you, kike.” 

“Cartman, you call me a kike one more goddamn time—!”

Stan and Kenny shared a glance between them. 

“ Or what, Jew?! ”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. Kenny sighed. 

Kyle lunged forward, hands reaching for Eric’s throat, clearly out for blood as Kenny went to restrain him. He pulled at his friend’s arms, making Kyle shout, “Kenny, don’t try to stop me!” 

Stan went to put himself between the two, saying, “Guys, can we please not do this today? This literally always happens, can you guys just fucking cut it out for once?”

Kyle tore his arms out of Kenny’s hold, stomping away angrily. As expected, despite his annoyance, Stan rolled his eyes and went to follow him. Meanwhile, Eric put one of his thick arms around Kenny’s shoulders with a sneer on his face. They started to walk back to the castle. “Think Stan’s gonna go lick the sand out of Kyle’s vagina?” 

Kenny channeled his inner Stan and rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, definitely,” he said flatly. 

“Anyways, you’re with me, aren’t you, poor boy? God knows you need the prize money more than anyone else.” 

His eye twitched. “Eric, I swear to God, one of these days you’re gonna get your ass kicked so hard, you’ll be feeling it on your deathbed.”

“ Ey! Bitch, if you even tried —!”

“ —but !” Kenny paused, slightly surprised when his best friend-slash-enemy also did so. “I do wanna know what you have in mind. I mean,” he grinned, gesturing at Eric’s face. Weren’t Slytherins supposed to be clever or something? What happened with this one? “I don’t think you’ll actually be able to do it. On the off-chance you do have something in mind, though… I’m in.”

Eric grinned. He stuck out a hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, Kenny.”

Chapter Text

“Step one! Figure out who’s getting the prize money!” Eric tapped the blackboard with the end of his wand, emitting sparks from the end of it. “Step two!” He moved it down to the line of question marks below. “Well, we’ll get back to step two. Step three! Profit! ” He took his wand and dragged it underneath the written word three times. He left behind burn marks. 

Kyle raised his hand. There were only four people in the abandoned classroom, including himself and Eric, so why he felt the need to do so, Kenny would never know. Without waiting for acknowledgement, Kyle said, “That’s not a plan, stupid.”

“Yeah, Cartman, I thought you said you had a plan.” Stan somehow managed to sound bored and indignant at the same time. Unlike Kyle, who was always tensed and on the edge of his seat whenever Eric was around, Stan was unimpressed and chilling with his chin in his hand during the presentation. 

Kenny huffed, sitting against the back of his rickety chair with his arms crossed. He was vaguely disappointed in himself for believing that Eric would come up with anything. 

...at the same time, he always somehow manages to pull off some bullshit that makes everything work out in the end. Maybe there was hope yet. Kenny rested his cheeks against his hands, watching yet another argument between Kyle and Eric unfold. 

The Slytherin had a finger up, talking over Kyle as he worked to save his ass. “ Upupupupup! Hush, nonbelievers! It will work, despite all your ,” he pointed at him, eyes narrowed, “creepy ginger magic—”

“— excuse me, what —”

“—going on and trying to sabotage me—”

“— the fuck do you mean by ‘creepy ginger magic,’ you dumb fuckwad— ”

“—QUIT TALKING WHILE I’M TALKING, KYLE, GOD! LEARN SOME FUCKING RESPECT!” Kyle didn’t respond with anything other than wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “ Thank you. Now, if Kyle is done interrupting ,” Eric shot him a glare, “I will explain how we will get that thousand-galleon prize. Kenny, I’m gonna have you start here and here,” he said, pointing at various other lists meticulously placed around the blackboard. It didn’t make much sense to the Gryffindor, but who was he to judge? 

Kenny gave him a firm nod of understanding. 

“Stan and Kyle, I’m going to need you to do some reconnaissance.” 

“Wow. I didn’t know that words that big were in his vocabulary,” Stan muttered to his SBF. They both snickered as Eric went on. 

“As for me,” he raised a pompous hand to his chest, “ I will be doing the most important job of all: following Harry Potter.”

There was a beat of silence. 

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “What.”

“Think about it, you guys! We already know that something strange is always going on with that lame-ass weirdo!” Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed. He had indeed heard much about the misadventures of the one and only Harry Potter — mostly from Dennis and Alyn. Charles seemed to be a bit over the hype. From the looks of it, if it really was true that Potter had a pattern going on of getting into trouble throughout the school year, then there definitely would be something happening this year. Well , Kenny thought, maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all. Even if he is a lame-ass weirdo, he’s bound to be involved, somehow. 

Eric continued, “So, we absolutely cannot let him get the prize money! I’m seriously, you guys.”

Kyle had his eyes closed. “Okay,” he started, taking his hand off his forehead. “Okay. That’s...strangely good reasoning. But, no.” His eyes snapped open as he pointed an accusational finger at the other first-year. “Why should you get to follow Potter around, fat boy? You’re not even in his House.” The redhead nodded over at Kenny, making the blond blink. “Kenny’s in his House. He should do it.”

That—

That did make sense. 

“Sure,” he said. “I can do it. I’ll just join my dorm mates when they go Harry Hunting.”

“Ah—!”

Stan shook his head pityingly. “This poor fucking loser gets chased around every day of his life , and that’s just normal for him.”

“ Eh—! ”

“Hey, I’m a poor fucking loser, Stanley, shut the fuck up. Harry Potter ain’t got nothing on me.”

“ What the fuck, you guys?! So now, Kenny gets to do my job while I do— what?!” Eric glared at each of them in turn. 

Kyle crossed his arms. “Take a guess, stupid.” 

The Slytherin stared at him for a second. “Oh, no. Oh nonononono. I am not ,” he spat, “doing a poor man’s job.”

“ Ugh! ” Cartman dropped various potions supplies onto the cobblestone floor of the hallway when bobotuber pus sprayed onto his clothing. The loud clattering sound made Kyle whirl around, aggressively putting a finger to his lips. Hissing, Cartman replied, “This is humiliating!”

“This was your idea!”

“Yeah, for Kenny !” The Slytherin sniffed himself, wrinkling up his nose. 

Scoffing, Kyle helped him gather up the supplies before shoving them into his chest and stalking off. Wiping his hand on his robes, he asked, “Why do you even have bobotuber pus, anyways? There are no known properties of it that can help with our aging potion— or any aging potion.”

Cartman rolled his eyes, and Kyle was so going to strangle him one of these days. Or maybe he could learn a spell so that he wouldn’t leave behind fingerprints. “I dunno, jewboy. Why don’t you figure it out?”

“Fuck you, man.” He opened the door to their classroom, luckily one with windows that could open and weren’t ancient as fuck . They had a pewter cauldron set up on one of the tables, ready and emitting smoke. “We only have a few hours left before the champions get chosen. If you want this dumbass plan to work, we gotta move it .” He quickly began prepping the ingredients. “It needs to stew for…” he checked the notebook in his hand briefly, “three hours? Is that right?” The redhead looked back at Cartman, who shrugged. “Anyways, that gives us barely any time to find everyone, dole out the accurate dosages, and put our names in the Goblet without getting caught.” He rolled up his sleeves. “We’re so dead.”

After much smoke and screaming and a wild amount of luck, the two finished the potion, looking a bit worse for wear. Kyle coughed, holding a sludgy, finalized vial of some questionable aging potion. He held it up, crinkling his nose as he examined the liquid inside. Man, we have to drink this shit? He took another whiff of the stuff, blinking back tears at the stench. It might not even work, although it was a stronger version than what the redheaded terrors of Gryffindor had ingested before doing so. 

“Goddammit,” he muttered. He made to hand the vial to Cartman but paused. “Cartman. Don’t. Drink this. We have to make sure that we each have enough to pass the age line.”

“Uh huh.” The Slytherin made grabby hand motions towards it, practically salivating. 

“ Cartman. ” 

“Sure.”

“ Cartman! ”

“Yeah yeah, I get it! Just give me the potion, I’m not gonna freaking drink it! Jesus Christ, Kyle, get off my dick, goddamn.” Slowly, and with narrowed eyes, he handed it to him. 

Kyle sighed. “We should go get Kenny and Stan.” He left the room, and Cartman paused for several seconds to pop off the lid of the vial and quickly took two gulps of the potion. The Slytherin shuddered before following his arch nemesis out the door.

Dennis and Alyn were only too happy to have Kenny join them and the rest of Potter’s entourage, a group comprised of first-years and headed by —unsurprisingly— one Colin Creevey, Dennis’s older brother. The stalkers lurked from behind castle walls and pillars, following the Golden Boy and his friends around, and, occasionally, one of them would look back and shudder before hurrying away with the other two. Of course, the group would then follow up in close pursuit. 

It was almost time for the Halloween feast when Kenny and his dorm mates returned to their dormitory, where the blond immediately collapsed onto his bed. Charles looked up from his homework at the sudden noise emanating from the other two Gryffindor boys, glancing between them and Kenny while he put his quill and drying paper scrolls away. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. 

Kenny grumbled into his pillow. 

“Oh. Well. Did you at least finish the transfiguration homework for tomorrow morning?”

He waved him off, moaning. He was so tired.  He couldn’t even think about homework right now.  

A fellow first-year, Natalie McDonald, popped her head into the room. “Er, Kenny? There’s someone asking for you from Ravenclaw House?”

“Nooooooo,” Kenny moaned, getting up anyways, because Kyle doesn’t do patience very well, and honestly, neither does Eric. 

He dragged his feet to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room as Natalie chattered mindlessly in his ear ( Oh, Kenny, I had no idea that you had friends outside of Gryffindor, how ever did you manage that? Then again, he also seems to have an American accent, did you perhaps know each other before attending Hogwarts? What is America like? I’ve always wanted to travel the world and see new places, but I’ve not yet gotten the chance to. My mother quite likes for me to stay within her sights, and while I do appreciate having such a loving parent, it does feel rather much at times and on and on. Not that Kenny didn’t appreciate her friendly attitude and warm hazel eyes, but Jesus did she ever shut up?) “Here he is,” she almost cheered as the Fat Lady’s portrait swung open. 

He gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, Nat,” he said, leaving quickly before she could say anything else. “Oh, my God. I felt like I was gonna die.” He slung an arm around Kyle’s shoulders, letting the other boy drag him down the corridor.

Kyle looked at him, unimpressed. “Wow. It must’ve been so hard for you.”

“It was! How much energy did people invest into doing things everyday? I swear, wizards are insane! There’s so much going on and nowhere to take a breath of fresh air! Metaphorically! I know fresh air is literally outside. It’s like South Park but with magic and we’re not in the mountains, so it’s that much more unbearable.” The blond paused, suddenly sniffing his friend.

“Hey, man, what the fuck!”

“Why do you smell like that?”

“You thought you had a hard day?” Kyle crossed his arms. “Our aging potion didn’t turn out great, but it’s all we got. You done bitching yet?” He blew a stray strand of hair out of his face with an annoyed huff.

“...not quite, but go on.”

Stan loitered around Hogwarts’s entrance hall. His so-called “job” was to scope out possible competition or, if it came down to it, who they should consider when making bets on the results of the tournament. 

And...it was boring as fuck. At least, now it was. Earlier in the day, many people had come and gone, either putting their names in the Goblet amidst applause from onlookers or grumbling how they would totally kick ass at the tournament if they were just old enough or, on one memorable occasion, trying to trick the Age Line by using an Ageing Potion (and if that wasn’t pretty clear indication of how it would go for them, he didn’t know what would be.) 

Stan took another look back towards the other end of the corridor. It was getting close to the feast, so where the hell were his friends?

Suddenly, and very loudly in his ear, someone called, “Marsh!” Standing just behind him and looking a bit sheepish for making him jump, were his fellow Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, and his Ravenclaw girlfriend, Cho Chang. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He let his heartbeat go back down before responding, “Nah, it’s okay, dude. Did you need something?”

“Er, we were just wondering what you were doing, that’s all.” Cedric jerked his thumb toward the Goblet of Fire. “Actually, I was thinking about trying my hand at the Triwizard Tournament.”

“That is,” Cho elbowed Cedric playfully, “if you can get in. Who knows? I might beat you to the spot for Hogwarts.”

He kissed her nose. “Mm, we’ll see.”

“Okay…” Stan said, a lot creeped out by their PDA. “Well. Bye.” He set off in search of his friends as the two older students went to put their name in the Goblet. Turning the corner, the Hufflepuff caught sight of his friends arguing-- namely, Kyle and Cartman were arguing while Kenny giggled helplessly from where he was clinging to Kyle’s shoulders. 

“Stan, finally! Where the fuck have you been?”

“Where have I been? I’ve been waiting for you guys!” Stan paused, sniffing the air. “Sick, dude! What’d you eat? ”

“Nothing!” Cartman said, too quickly. 

Stan reflexively pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, no.”

“He drank this,” Kyle deadpanned, holding up a half-empty tube of some weird, sludgy substance. “And now, he’s facing the consequences.” He turned back to look expectantly at the Slytherin. 

Cartman stomped his foot on the ground, red in the face as he cried, “There are no consequences, jewboy! Your goddamn potion doesn’t fucking work !” 

Kyle began counting down, looking down at a watch on his wrist. “3...2...1…” There was a large puff of smoke where Cartman was standing, smelling like gasoline and rotten eggs, and Stan couldn’t believe that they were all supposed to drink whatever that was. He didn’t think he could keep it down. 

When the smoke cleared, there was Cartman, looking way older than seventeen. Not a good look on him. He yelped, staring at how far the ground suddenly was. “Hey, I’m old as shit!”

“Uh, yeah,” Kyle said. “That’s what it does. It is an aging potion.”

Cartman turned to Kenny, who was staring wide-eyed at him. “Do I look old enough to pass the Age Line?”

Kenny’s mouth opened and shut a few times before he finally replied, “Y-yeah. No doubt.”

“Awesome,” he breathed. He hurriedly scribbled down his name on a piece of parchment paper and went to put it in the Goblet. 

“Cartman—” Stan started, moving forward to stop him. Kyle put out a hand. 

There was a loud crackle as Cartman was thrown ass-backwards onto the floor, sporting an even longer beard than the first one. And apparently, the Age Line also did nothing to the potion’s effects, leaving Cartman sputtering as an old man in tiny Slytherin robes with a long-ass beard.

Might he say, yikes?

“Huh,” Kyle blinked. “I thought that the Age Line would’ve gotten rid of any magic used to try and deceive it, but I guess not.” Grinning, he added, “Sucks, bro, but I’m pretty sure it’ll wear off by the end of the year.”

Kenny, laughing harder than Stan’s heard in a while, claps him on the shoulder— or, at least, as high as he could reach on Cartman’s adult body. “Holy shit, dude! Good fucking luck explaining that to people!”

“Dude. You look like a fatter, grumpier Dumbledore.”

Cartman was shaking. “I. Hate. You. Guys. So. Much.”

Chapter Text

There was whispering and giggling going through the Great Hall from the first- and second-years. Some of the older and pettier students were also pointing and openly laughing at the bearded old man sitting by himself at the end of the Slytherin table. The other Slytherins were shunning him. It was great.

Kyle could feel the fatass glaring holes into his back as he snickered. Stewart Ackerley, his fellow first-year Ravenclaw, was unsubtly leaning over and asking him, “What did you do? ”

“Nothing he didn’t ask for,” he replied, smirking. 

From where she was seated in front of him, Orla Quirke —another first-year in his House— carefully glanced behind him towards the Slytherin table. “Cartman looks like he’s going to kill you.” 

Kyle shrugged. His Housemates seemed alarmed at his nonchalance, but honestly, as much as Cartman may be an antisemitic, genocidal, piece of shit, he was easy to take down as long as you could land one solid right hook to his smug face. He bursts into tears every time. 

Living a life with Eric Cartman in it had become much more bearable since Kyle had figured this out. 

So, no. He wasn’t worried about what the asshat would do to him. And, to be quite honest, it felt kinda good to be the one not getting laughed at this time. 

“Oh, shite,” Orla breathed, staring unabashed at the Slytherin table. “Snape is going to eviscerate him.” Kyle and Stewart looked over their shoulders at the other boy. Sure enough, there was Professor Snape with his hands behind his back, towering over Cartman with a sneer on his face. They all watched as the potions professor handed him a vial of a strange, orange liquid, which Kyle thought could either be a poison or an antidote, based off of his expression. 

Cartman made a face before taking it, and as soon as he was done, Professor Snape snatched up the vial and whirled around. As he stalked back up to the staff table, he passed by the staring Ravenclaws and looked down his beak-like nose at them. That man was scary. They all quickly averted their eyes. 

“Why do I feel like we just avoided death,” commented Stewart once he was gone. 

“Do you think that Snape uses his hair grease in his breakfast eggs and bacon?” Kyle asked idly. 

Orla opened her mouth to give him a response, probably a reprimand, when the food appeared on sparkling golden platters, so she just gave him a sour look and told them to eat their vegetables. 

The smell of rotting eggs and gasoline permeated the air at that moment, signifying Cartman’s return to child-dom. The Slytherin cheered and began digging into the platters around him. A bit disappointed that the potion hadn’t lasted longer, Kyle helped himself to some Yorkshire pudding and roast beef. 

It seemed that no one could really focus on their meals; mostly, whispers went around regarding the Goblet of Fire. Kyle was tuned out of his yearmates’ conversations as his eyes searched the Great Hall. He looked at Stan over at the Hufflepuff table and raised his eyebrows. The other boy was picking at his food with a bored expression; when he noticed Kyle staring, he perked up and made a face at him. Kyle nodded back. 

In a once-in-a-blue-moon discussion, all four of them came to an agreement: the food here just wasn’t up to par. Sure, the food was rich and filling and flavors were carefully and masterfully paired with various textures. Sure, it was all very luxurious and one-of-a-kind. But was it KFC chicken? Could anything compare to the Colonel’s silky smooth gravy and his warm biscuits? Was Hogwarts food finger lickin’ good?

The answer was no. 

Finally, the platters of food began to disappear just as Kyle was getting tired of seeing Kenny’s leg jiggle restlessly from across the room. The heads of each of the three schools stood, along with two other official looking people. One of them winked at him with a jovial smile, making him recoil in disgust. Daniel Dubois, who stole the bed closest to the bathroom that little bitch, leaned over and whispered, “That’s Ludo Bagman. He was a really famous Quidditch player back in the day, but now he’s kind of lost his touch.” Damn, Daniel, did Kyle even ask? Shit. 

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” Dumbledore said. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the chamber,” he pointed towards a door behind the staff table that Kyle had never noticed before, “where they will be receiving their first instructions.” For further effect, he took his wand and extinguished all of the candles lighting the room. Except the ones in the jack-o’-lanterns. For some reason, it was absolutely essential that those be kept lit up. 

The Goblet of Fire was a flickering beacon in the room, with blue-white flames licking the rim of it. The whole room held their breaths for several long moments. He heard someone heave an obnoxious yawn from behind him— someone who was most definitely Cartman, and who he had forgotten about for about five glorious minutes. 

Suddenly, the flames inside the Goblet turned red and spat out a piece of paper. The headmaster caught it and read out from the again blue-white fire, “The champion for Durmstrang...will be Viktor Krum.” A massive applause came from the peanut gallery as “Viktor Krum” —apparently another big Quidditch star, according to Daniel’s harried whisper-shouting, which Kyle still didn’t need— rose from the other end of the Slytherin table and made his way through the door behind the staff table. 

You could hear Durmstrang’s headmaster voice throughout the room, even with the applause. “Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!” Kyle sniffed. What a pompous ass. 

Everyone quieted as the Goblet turned red again. This time, Dumbledore read out from the paper, “The champion for Beauxbatons...is Fleur Delacour!” Amidst much tantruming from the other Beauxbatons students, the most beautiful girl Kyle had ever seen stood from his table — his table! — and practically glided her way to the front of the Great Hall. When she finally disappeared behind the door, he broke out of his trance, shaking his head abruptly. Stewart handed Orla a napkin to wipe up the spit dribbling out of her mouth with a grimace. 

The Goblet of Fire turned red a third and final time, shooting out its final piece of paper. “The Hogwarts champion,” Dumbledore called, “is Cedric Diggory!” 

Stan looked reluctantly happy as he joined in on the other Hufflepuffs’ raucous cheering. Kyle didn’t know why he was acting so embarrassed that he was happy for the older Hufflepuff. Cedric was definitely deserving of the champion spot, if what Stan’s told him (with starry eyes, might he add) is anything to go by. With a perfect, movie star smile, the Hufflepuff made his way through the door. Even then, it was several more moments before his House quit cheering. 

Dumbledore watched them all with twinkling eyes as the room silenced. “Excellent!” He called proudly. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—” The headmaster paused, face washed by the red light of the flames. 

Which should be that blue-white color from before. 

But isn’t. 

A bit of paper shot out of the Goblet, and Dumbledore reached out to grab it. For a long moment, he stared at it. He aged another twenty years before looking up through the crowd of students. Throughout the Great Hall, his voice rang out strong and true as he announced the final champion, “Harry Potter.”

——

“What the donkey balls is going on , ” Kenny said, very emphatically . He had his head in his hands. He was so very tired. He could feel the other three staring holes into his chest from the different tables. “All day. We were watching him all day. ” He threw his arms up. “ How even—?! ” 

“Who cares how he did it?!” Alyn whooped, punching the air with one fist. “ Gryffindor has a champion! ” His declaration seemed to shake the other students out of their shocked state, the low buzzing from throughout the room growing louder and louder until the entirety of Gryffindor was on their feet, yelling and cheering. Except for Kenny, who was on the verge of a mental breakdown. 

He needed to go home. Like, immediately. 

“ Gryffindor! Gryffindor! ”

He glanced behind him. All of the Hufflepuffs were glaring at them, and if looks could kill, Kenny would’ve been the first to die. He could also see Kyle’s gaping mouth and Eric’s wrath all too clearly. He didn’t even wanna look at Stan right now. 

Professor Sprout shouted out a silencing charm, a livid expression on her usually motherly face. “Prefects,” she said in a perfectly measured voice, “please lead your Houses back to their dormitories. Quietly. ” Some of the Gryffindors were throwing her dirty looks as they complied. 

Dennis and Colin were quietly continuing the celebration amongst themselves, jumping around the halls and mouthing “ Harry Potter! ” at anybody who glanced their way. Kenny was still in shock. 

Charles patted his back. “Harry Potter works in mysterious ways,” he said sagely. 

Natalie laughed, all starry-eyed, clapping him on the shoulder as she passed. “That’s right! He’s so cool.” She slung her arm around Dennis. “Hurry up! I overheard the older years saying that we’re going to bring the celebration up to Gryffindor Tower!”

“Er, yes! Let’s!” Charles hurried after her. 

“‘Ey, Kenny!”

Kenny stopped, dazed. Eric and Stan were behind him with crossed arms. For once, Kyle was the only person not looking angry. 

“What. The. Fuck. Poor boy.”

Stan exploded. “ You had one job! ”

“I did what you guys asked me to do! I swear, he didn’t put his name in the cup! I have no idea how it could’ve gotten in there!” 

Kyle was sympathetic. “We did ask you to do that later in the day… and it’s not like there’s even supposed to be four champions. No one could’ve seen that coming.” Good, ol’ Kyle, always being a good friend… except for that one time. “And, in any case, it doesn’t matter now. We can still earn something if we’re smart with our money. I overheard some guys say something about a betting pool…”

Eric’s eyes lit up. “That’s very true, Jew. Very clever,” he added, as if that was a compliment coming from him. Kyle didn’t deign him with a response. 

Stan was still angry. Kenny gave him his best puppy dog eyes until he caved and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I guess. Fine. I don’t know why I was so mad anyways. ‘S not like we don’t all know who the real champion is.”

Wait, what. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He took a deep breath through his nose then held it, waiting for his best friend, even though he was being a total dick, to respond. 

Stan said nothing for a moment. Then he muttered, “Nevermind,” and stalked off. What he wanted to do was keep pushing until Stan turned around and explained exactly what he meant. What he wanted was to let this devolve into a shouting match that shook the walls and scared small children. What he did was turn himself around and walk to Gryffindor Tower, refusing to do anything brash or emotional until he got to his bed and shouted into his pillow. 

Fuck Hogwarts. At least he could expect stupid at home.

Chapter Text

Stan woke up the next morning in a horrible mood. His head pounded, and he was groggy, and he had to brush the taste of firewhisky out of his mouth (and who the hell gave an eleven-year-old alcohol anyways?), and he really missed his dog Sparky, so this was obviously shaping up to be a terrible day, even before he remembered his almost-fight with Kenny. 

And, ugh . The Gryffindors. Fuck those guys. 

“Hullo, Stan! Sleep well last night?” Kevin Whitby greeted him brightly as he came out of the bathroom, whistling a cheery tune. “I know I did! A party after the Halloween feast? I’ve never been more stuffed full of food!”

Stan gave him a flat stare that went unnoticed and was slightly undeserved. Kevin was sweet, but Stan was so not in the mood. 

Their dorm mate also seemed to be in a similar position. Owen Cauldwell had a textbook over his eyes as he laid in bed. “All well and good, Whitby,” he said, removing the book, “if it weren’t for Potter and his whole... Potterness .” Owen continued, with a flourish of his hand, “I’ve been hearing from the likes of Zacharias Smith—”

Stan smacked his forehead. “—oh no , really, dude—?”

“— yes , ‘dude,’ really, and he’s been telling me that that Harry Potter has let fame go to his head quite a bit over the past years. And the headmaster has done nothing but enable him. I’ve heard the Ravenclaws saying so, this morning at breakfast.” He nodded, all self-righteous, and suddenly Stan realized that they had let him get too close to yes-men Smith and Macmillan as of late. He made a mental note to be a better dorm mate and keep an eye on him. 

“I mean…” Kevin looked uncertain. “Professor Dumbledore does have that Gryffindor bias. But, isn’t Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived or whatever it is? Don’t you think that earns him a bit of leeway in all this? He’s only the savior of the wizarding world, after all.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Okay, no. A ‘bit’ of leeway is letting him skimp on one or two assignments throughout the year. This is more like clearing a path for him, specifically, that’s like a mile wide on either side.” 

“Wait.” Kevin paused in his train of thought and turned to Owen. ”You’ve been to breakfast already? And you came back to sleep here?”

He shrugged, laying back in bed. “It’s Sunday.” 

“Felt that,” Stan said, leaning over to give him a fist bump. 

“No! Don’t ‘feel that!’ What kind of Hufflepuffs are you, you lazy bones?!”

The door opened as Kevin stood between their beds, scolding them with his hands on his hips. “...er. I was thinking we could all go to breakfast?” Stan gave Vincent Strifeheart a two-finger salute; their fellow first-year was standing in the doorway, fiddling with the collar of his robes. “Was I interrupting?”

“Not at all!” Owen got himself out of bed, slinging an arm around Vincent in a show of camaraderie. “Breakfast, you said?” They walked out of the room. 

Kevin threw his arms up. “I thought he said that he had already eaten! Bloody hell!” He looked back to see Stan still in bed. “Well, come on then!”

“Alright, alright.”

They chatted idly on their way to the Great Hall, Owen carefully navigating their way through the feuding older years. Stan took up the position at the end of their group. 

This was his downfall. 

From his position at the back of the group, he was unable to see over Vincent’s blond spikes and Owen’s general tall-ness; when he finally caught sight of Cedric Diggory (also way too fucking tall, mind you) talking and laughing with his quidditch team, it was too late to steer them away from him. Stan’s mind short-circuited. 

Kevin : “Oh, look! It’s Cedric! We should give him our congratulations!” ( He moves toward the Hogwarts Champion. Owen and Vincent follow. The three of them congratulate the older Hufflepuff and engage him in small talk. Stan is frozen. )

Cedric looked his way. His mind started working again. “Marsh! It’s good to see you here as well!”

He gave the older Hufflepuff a weak smile, feeling bile rise up his throat. Abscond! Stan thought. Abscond!  

Cedric turned to his teammates with an impossibly bright beam —all his teeth were white, did you know?— and said, “Stan Marsh is a great flier, I’ve seen him out there during their lessons! I’m thinking,” he leaned in secretively towards his friends, “with a bit of practice he could definitely beat Potter to the snitch in a few years.” He glanced around before addressing the first-years. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“But it’s true!” Kevin cried. Stan felt like he might collapse into a useless puddle on the floor. He was absolutely going to throw up. “I may not know anything about flying or broomsticks or whatnot, but even I could see it.”

“It really is,” Vincent agreed, earnest and wide-eyed. “Talent like that is hard to find.” 

“I mean,” Stan mumbled, fingering the sleeves of his robes. “I guess.”

The older Hufflepuffs were eyeing him curiously. “He does have a good build for Seeking. You ever fly before Hogwarts, Marsh?” A freckled fifth-year asked him. 

He shook his head, cheeks fully flushed and eyes downcast. God , if they would all just stop staring at him. Especially Diggory! Fuck that guy! He can’t exactly place why , but fuck him!

“Practice would do him some good, then.”

“We’ll also have to see this amazing flying, won’t we?” Another sneered. Stan glared up at the challenge; goddammit, of course it was Zacharias Smith. 

A girl with a strict ponytail smacked him on the shoulder with a book. “ Merlin , Smith. Must you be a prick to even the first-years?” 

“ Bones, how many times have I told you—! ” The two began to bicker, leaving Stan to smooth down his feathers (metaphorical, FYI. He had been shocked to see the occasional winged student and half-wondered if they molted, but it wasn’t his place to ask). 

The freckled fifth-year shook her head. “Don’t mind him any, alright Marsh?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Cedric gave him a blinding grin in response. Stan felt like dying. 

And throwing up, probably. 

——

Kenny was led through the woods, weaving between the trees and using Kyle’s bright red hair as a beacon to guide his way. Dead leaves crackled underfoot, and a cold freshness was in the air. If he closed his eyes, he could probably imagine that he was home. Hogwarts was a world away; the universe was quiet for the first time in weeks. 

“Hey, keep up!” Kyle called from a bit away. So much for silence , Kenny thought, grinning. He looks so serious right now. He had that kind of steady gaze that made you feel cared for and important — at least, when he wasn’t being petty and holier-than-thou. And did Kyle Broflovski love being petty and holier-than-thou. 

Kenny ran to catch up. “Where are we goin’, anyways?” As much as he loved having gotten away from the school, he’d heard one too many stories about the Forbidden Forest at night, and he was not ready to die today. If he did die, he didn’t know how he’d get back to Hogwarts, or explain what he was doing in South Park. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to say, “Oh yeah! Sorry I missed class, Professor McGonagall. I died! It takes a while for Hell to process it.” 

Yeah. Not gonna happen. 

“You’ll see,” Kyle said after a moment. 

They arrived at a clearing, where a barefooted Ravenclaw girl stood on the half-frozen ground with a slab of bloody meat in her hands. “You can come closer if you like,” she said, and tilted her head. “The thestrals won’t bite.” After a thoughtful pause, she added cryptically, “I won’t, either.” 

“Uh. Thanks, Luna.” Kyle beckoned for Kenny to follow him. “This is Kenny, by the way.” She handed the both of them a bit of raw meat to hang onto by way of greeting. They waited for a few moments during which the redhead whisper-promised that the third-year really didn’t bite and that she was just a little weird. 

(“Why is she barefooted?

“Hell if I know.”)

Then, there was a rustling in the trees. Kenny let out a quiet gasp as the first of the skeletal black horses came into view. He held his piece of raw meat out, letting a foal cautiously take it from him and nuzzle into his hand. “They’re beautiful,” he breathed before laughing, “in an ugly kinda way.” 

“Oh, so like you, then?” Kyle elbowed him. 

Kenny giggled. “Of course!” He processed the last thirty seconds of their conversation. “Wait, what.” Kyle rolled his eyes as Kenny’s lips curled into a shit-eating grin. “Aww, Kyle . Do these darlings remind you of me? How sweet!” He made kissy faces at the other boy. 

“Shut up , Kenny, God you’re so annoying .” Kyle’s face was red as he turned away from him. “ If you must know, yes , they do remind me of you. They’re ugly as fuck and so are you.” He dodged Kenny’s attempt at clinging to him. 

Luna hummed, stopping them from dicking around so loudly as they realized that she was still there. “Thestrals are said to only appear to those who’ve seen death.” Her wide-open eyes shifted toward Kenny, looking too clear and too cloudy all at once. He felt a chill run down his spine. “They seem to have especially taken a liking to you.” She went back to dreamily stroking through a nearby thestral’s mane. 

Eventually, the sun went down, and they parted ways with the strange third-year girl. “Sorry,” Kyle said suddenly. He looked embarrassed, Kenny observed. “It was kinda weird, huh? I dunno why, but I just had to show you the thestrals.”

Kenny watched their feet making its way through the grass back towards the castle. Thestrals only appear to those who have seen death. That meant that on some subconscious level, Kyle remembered him dying. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe, so he smiled, small and private. “It was pretty cool, actually. Thanks, Ky.”

“No problem, dude.”

Chapter Text

hi, everyone!! I just want to thank you all for having followed “Harry Potter and the many ways he screw other people over” to this point!!

while I DO still like South Park— well, no. I like Kenny. I only like Kenny. Anyways!! Ive come to not like how canon-typical their behavior is. Frankly, I really hate how I tried to implement the same behavior that is displayed on the show, so. I’ve decided to orphan this fic and will be rewriting it (once again OTL) in a way more comfortable and happy-making for me!! Fanfic is self-indulgent and I’m just not happy with the way I’ve been writing this. 

sorry to everyone who loved the fic as it was. imma keep it up for you guys, but honestly there’s not much to see, haha. Anyways, have an absolutely groovy day y’all!!! i hope to see you whenever I get around to posting the reboot <3