Waiting for Voldemort

So I saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire recently. It's a fun movie, but I have...issues with certain elements.

Disclaimer: I have not read any of the Harry Potter books, although the first one is on my to-be-read pile (somewhere). I haven't even seen all the movies: skipped the second after finding the first one pleasant, yet largely forgettable. So what follows are inventions based purely on the latest film and my...dissatisfaction with certain elements. It won't make much sense if you haven't seen the fourth film yourself; and if you don't want spoilers (warped though they be), you shouldn't read either.

Or if you're a hardcore Potterhead. You might take offense at what I write.

------------------------------------------

[At a secret Death Eaters meeting, a shadowy group discusses their latest plans...involving magic.]

Death Eater 1: At long last, the time has come, my brethren, to reveal ourselves! How shall we cow our enemies and announce the Dark Lord's nigh-return?

Death Eater 2: I say we go to the Quidditch World Cup and...and...set fire to things! Like TENTS! MOOHAHAHAHAHA!

Death Eater 1: Oh, I concur. Nothing says "shadowy, secretive eeeevil cult" quite like setting random shit on fire at a sporting event.

[Chorus of voices approving DE2's plan]

Death Eater 3: I'm sorry, but are you people mental? Have you seen a Muggles riot at a football match - over a single point? Now imagine what that would be like if everyone had magic wands . Magic wands which can shoot fireballs. Drunk, rowdy Quidditch fans with fireball-shooting wands - am I the only one concerned by that?

Death Eater 2: Football is such a proletarian pastime, though. Quidditch is a far more genteel sport. We'll be fine.

Death Eater 3: Is this really our best idea? After all these years spent plotting in the shadows for the Dark Lord's return, we can't come up with anything grander than - ?

[Death Eater 1, looking annoyed, turns Death Eater 3 into a newt]

Death Eater 1: Right, now on to the next item on our agenda - the disastrously low crumpet supply.

------------------------------------------

[Inside Dumbledore's study, the professors discuss events...magic events]

Snape: Clearly, sir, powerful and sinister magic is at work, to have entered Mr. Potter into the tournament. I sense a dark hand guiding these events, placing young Potter in dire jeopardy. Therefore, I would say our only option is to allow things to proceed and see what ill fate befalls that obnoxious little wanker, which we can then prevent. Maybe. Unless we're too late, of course.

McGonagall: Mr. Snape!

Snape: What? We have a PG-13 rating this time. Besides, the Yanks won't know what "wanker" means. Wanker, wanker, wanker. See? They think it's quaint.

McGonagall: Are you honestly suggesting we allow Mr. Potter's life to be placed in danger? That he be used as bait?

Snape: Oh, that. "Bait" has such unpleasant connotations, professor. I prefer to use the term, "lure, with distinct possibilities of deadishness."

Dumbledore: [taking a drag from a joint] Enh, we'll go with Snape's plan. After all, total passivity and inaction under the guise of "thoughtful observation" has gotten us this far OK - how much worse can it get?

[McGonagall's perpetual expression of shock remains in place. Snape practically purrs. Dumbledore is distracted by some purple kitten only he can see.]

------------------------------------------

[Inside Madeye Moody's study. Madeye gloats over Harry Potter, who is bound to a chair...with magic.]

Madeye Moody: MOOHAHAHAHA! Yes, Mr. Potter, it is I, Madeye Moody, who have plotted against you this entire year! Surprised?

Harry: [looking slightly annoyed] Not really, no.

Madeye: . . . What?

Harry: Well, it's just that in my four years here at Hogwarts, I've run into so many people oh-so-secretly in league with Voldemort, I was starting to think you had your own teachers' lounge.

[Meanwhile, in the Secret Hogwarts Teachers' Lounge for Supporters of Voldemort - says so on the door - shadowy figures gather to discuss their latest plans...involving sweets. I mean: magic.]

Voldemortian: [drumming his fingers on the table impatiently] So...let me get this straight: none of you refilled the crumpet bin?

[Back to Harry and Madeye]

Harry: It was blindingly obvious someone was plotting against me - someone's always plotting against me. And it's not like there were a lot of other new faces who it could've been. Let me guess: you're Barty Crouch Jr in disguise, right?

Madeye: Klaatu, boy, how did you know?! Do you have the sight...of magic?

Harry: No, I've just been seeing your face repeatedly in my dreams, but not in real life. You obviously were up to something, so it was reasonable to presume you were here in disguise. Karkaroff was a total red herring - far too evil-looking to be evil - while Mme. Maxine...well, let's just say I don't picture you a transgender bloke.

Madeye: Barada, you do have the sight, boy!

Harry: [sighs] No, I just have a noggin that's filled with something other than Stilton cheese. What I can't understand is why Dumbledore and the rest let me go forward with the Tri Wizard Tournament. Just how daft do you have to be not to be able to tell a contest - even a magic one - has been rigged?

Madeye: . . . To be honest, I have no idea. But you'd be surprised at what they're willing to buy. Nikto, but they almost make it too easy.

Harry: But let me see if I understand your scheme: you somehow enchanted the Goblet of Fire so it would spit out my name, you manipulated my friends and the other contestants to ensure I would win the tournament, just so I would touch the trophy - also enchanted by you - so that it would teleport me to that cemetary, just so you lot could use a bit of my blood to resurrect Voldemort and, y'know, give him a chance to torture me to death.

Madeye: [beaming with eeevil pride] Precisely!

Harry: OK, then here's my question: what the bloody hell is wrong with you people?

Madeye: . . . What?

Harry: You have that kind of power at your disposal, why didn't you just teleport me directly to Voldemort yourself? Or attack me at school? Or enchant a bar of soap to teleport me the next time I'm in the wash? Hell, an old-fashioned kidnapping while I was home for the holidays and alone clearly would've done the trick, since apparently the only thing I've learned how to do properly here is tuck a magic piece of wood `tween my legs. Why this shadowy conspiracy nonsense? Don't any of you lot know how to take the direct approach? You wait four years to do this?

Madeye: . . . You just don't appreciate how these things are done, young man. Done...with magic.

Harry: [muttering] Bloody hell, I'll be grateful when I'm 17 and allowed to use proper curse words.