"Mr. Malfoy, please spell 'claustrophobic.'"

"C-l-a-u-s-t-r-o-p-h-o-b-i-c," Malfoy answers without missing a beat. The judges move into the next person in line. Harry glares over at Malfoy, who just raises an eyebrow in smug superiority.

"Mr. Potter," Harry turned his stare back to the judges, "Spell 'diagnostic.'"

Harry recalls this word, it being on page twenty seven of the spelling bee manual. "D-i-a-g-n-o-s-t-i-c."

The judges continue down the row.

Spelling bee entry tests, which is just a smaller version of the real deal where multiple people pass to the next level instead of just one, happen in homeroom class. Harry and Malfoy shared all classes, unfortunately, but the Barn had a different homeroom. They wouldn't be competing with them until the finals, if they made it that far.

"Miss Lovegood, spell 'adorable.'"

"C-a-t."

A judge sighs deeply. "You are eliminated, Miss Lovegood." She skiped back to her seat.

By the time it's Malfoy's turn again, ten people had been eliminated and only nine remained. Wow, Harry thought, this class is really bad at spelling. "Mr. Potter," Judge Jones said. "Spell 'manoeuvre.'"

Page fourty nine, Harry recalled. Easy. "M-a-n-o-e-u-v-r-e."

"Mr. Weasley," Harry turned to look in the line, for a brief moment anxious that Ron had somehow sneaked into their class and was participating in their spelling bee, but sighed in relief when he was it was only Fred, an older brother of Ron who had been held back because of him and his twin's shananagains. "Spell 'handkerchief.'"

"Hmmmm," Fred rubbed his chin, like an old man would caress his beard. "No," he said, then walked back to his seat.

"Mr. Weasley," it was George's turn and Harry wondered why there had to be so many damn Mr. Weasleys, "Spell 'consensus.'"

"You see, Judge Martha, I absolutely could, I have no doubt about that, but I think I will be refuse because you are not asking politely. It's very rude, you know, to be so disrespectful. No Please? No thank-"

"Please," Judge Martha said in an strained tone, "sit down, Mr. Weasley."

"Mr. Goyle, spell 'antagonistic.'"

"A-n-t-a-g," he paused and bit his lip, seeming like he did not know how to continue. "i-g-n-i-s-t-i-c?"

"Eliminated."

"Mr. Thomas, spell 'pharaoh.'"

"You really overestimate my abilities, Ma'am." He took his seat.

And then there were five. Harry looked down the line, surprised to see who all was left. Tom had, by some miracle, made it. He was a horrible speller. Harry supposed he had helped Harry memorize the book, which helped Tom's chances.

Malfoy was still there, and so was Cho Chang. Pansy Parkinson, a friend of Malfoy a couple years back before they had a huge fight, resulting in Malfoy becoming the loner he is.

Harry just had to outlast two more of them and then the spelling bee entry test would be complete. He thought he had it, it was basically done, and he'd already won. He pushed those thoughts down, though, because he remembered what Malfoy had told him.

Your weakness is arrogance.

Harry pushed down his ego, resolved to not let it get in the way of winning.

Malfoy was busy hyper analyzing his competition. Cho is smart, he thought, but the weakest one here, behind Tom. I don't even know how he made it this far, if I'm being honest. Pansy, me and Potter will likely make it to the next round, if my calculations are correct.

As it turns out, they weren't. Cho got eliminated first, a surprise to everyone, especially Tom. Harry and Malfoy were flying through the words easy, like a knife to butter. Pansy was starting to struggle as the words got harder. Tom, however, was not letting up; answering with little hesitance.

Fivety minutes after the spelling bee entry tests started, they ended with the elimination of Pansy Parkinson. Malfoy, Potter, and Riddle would be advancing to the finals. The finals took the three winners from every class and put them against each other until only one remained. The winner could advance to the state spelling bee if they so wished.

"Didn't think a boy such as you would get this far, Riddle," Madly hissed. They were conversing before the bell rang for next period and Malfoy looked ticked. More interested than pissed, though. "How'd you do it? Huh, Riddle? Who helped you cheat? Someone who got out early, Lovegood I bet. Did she give you signals from the audience?"

"What?" Tom furrowed his brows. "I didn't cheat, Malfoy, you're just upset I did so well."

"I, for one, am so happy for you, Tom!" Harry cheered, slinging one arm around his shoulders. Tom was overcome with memories of the first years they met, when they were the Golden Pair and not Trio. Just them against the world. It felt like that all over again, Harry's simple gesture. Tom grinned and had this huge, sudden urgue to sling his arms around Harry shoulders and kiss him.

What? Tom almost physically flinched at this thought. The hell did that come from? He shook off his surprise at his own mind and hugged Harry while they cheered.

Malfoy glared at Tom. Then his face relaxed and he said, "Well, no matter," he smirked, "I can best you both easily, even if you're cheating."

The next class passed slowly, everyone anxious or excited for the spelling bee final, which would happen after that class. When the bell rang, everyone practically run out the door.

The gym, which had a large stage in the front, was packed; all bleachers filled. Harry noted that the entire high school was in the room. Which was only eight classes, but still.

Harry and the other winners joined the other contestants on the chairs on the stage. There was 24 of them, six for each grade. Harry noted that from the other nineth grade class that Hermione, Neville and Seamus Finnigan were the winners. Hermione and Neville being there didn't surprise him, and he didn't know much about Seamus other than he had used his knife to kill his bully in seventh grade.

Harry tried not to think arrogantly. After all, he told himself, we're competing against 18 kids from the older grades, we can't possibly be that good.

Since they were a small school, every winner, from all grades, competed againist one another. Some thought this wasn't exactly a fair system, putting freshman againist seniors, but it had been in place ever since the school was founded.

The next hour and a half hours were boring, mostly. There was lots of waiting. After about twelve people had been eliminated, Harry noticed a subtle change in the words given. They were using a different book, he realized. A book full of spelling bee words that he hadn't memorized. He was on uncertain ground. He relied on memory, for the most part, to get this far.

Fuck, Harry thought, I've lost!

But, surprisingly, Harry held his own and soon there was only five people left. Malfoy, Riddle, Potter, Longbottom, and some senior Harry didn't know the name of. People in the crowd were muttering about how impressive it was that four freshman made it so far in the competition, and Harry fought not to let it go to his head.

Tom had also began to struggle, but not as much as Harry. Malfoy had began asking for the judges to use the word in a sentence, but other than that his place was as relentless as before.

Neville, who Harry was surprised to note had outlasted Hermione, was very skilled with spelling, but always tripped up at words with two of the same letters in a row.

"Mr. Potter," judge Martha addressed him, "spell 'chiaroscurist.'"

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?" he composed himself. "Can you use it in a sentence?"

"The chiaroscurist is artist who specialises in pictorial representation of light and dark and its affect on composition."

The fuck kind of word is that? Harry thought. Part of him was certain of the spelling, thought it was easy, even, but the other part of him was lost. Okay, he told himself, Let's not act too rashly, okay? Let's not answer the first thing that comes to our head. Think shit through.

A solid two minutes later, Harry nodded to himself and spoke: "C-h-i-a-r-o-s-c-u-r-i-s-t."

Harry sighed in relief when they moved on to the next person, he spot ensured a moment longer. He was glad he paused and thought things few. Really glad, in fact, because his first guess was "chairocurist," one letter off.

The senior was eliminated. Spelled logorrhea "logorhea," apperantly.

Tok looked over at his peers, a sense of pride washing over him. A group of freshies, beating sophomore, juniors, and seniors? A rarity. Almost unheard of. No matter who wins, Tom thought, I'm happy. Even if it's Neville.

But as it turns out, Neville would not win. When it was his turn, he choked up and had a panic attack on stage. Escorted out, disqualified, and the final three decided. Harry and Malfoy, as well as Tom himself, were surprised that Riddle made it this far. Harry knew that, if he got out, that Tom better destory that jerk faced Malfoy.

"Mr. Potter, spell 'weird.'"

Weird? he thought. That shit's easy! He smiled and spoke with arrogance. He neglected to remember to push his who down, to think things through, and that cost him the win. "W-i-e-r-d."

"Eliminated."

Harry didn't move for a moment. A common mistake with this word, and he'd fallen right into it. He'd lost.

Your weakness is your arrogance, and he was right. He shot a look at Tom that clearly said, "Avenge me." And, thirty minutes later of back and forth, he did.

Malfoy got put on the word misspell, spelling it "mispell." Ironic, isn't it?

Tom finished with first place. He did not go to the state competition.