Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and don't profit from my writing.
Chapter 12: The Third Task
The Golden Trio researched, strategized, and trained incessantly for Harry to perform the third task. Hermione had discovered the "four points" spell and taught Harry to cast it, to help him navigate through the maze. Harry and Hermione had practiced auramancy, working to distinguish different auras in order to more quickly identify spells, enchanted items, and hidden dangers. Ron and Hermione had met in the library and in empty classrooms for so many hours, if it hadn't been for the bond, Harry knew he might have begun to suspect them having something romantic, but eventually they'd shared their plan and he had to admit that if it worked, it was worth every minute.
Meanwhile, Harry had practiced every spell he knew incessantly. He'd practiced dispelling various magic spells, thinking that he might have to break through spelled traps in the maze. In the library he'd begun to research curse breaking and wards, thinking that he might have to penetrate magical barriers. Harry had spent time with Hagrid in his cabin, discussing various magic beasts and how best to defeat them. Hagrid was an amazing font of knowledge in the one limited area, but he often seemed to think that even the most dangerous beasts were simply misunderstood, so Harry had been careful to take some of his suggestions of 'just making friends with them' with a grain of salt.
Some of Harry's practice had been dueling against Professor Moody, but these practices were leaving him confused. At first, he'd learned very quickly against the experienced auror. His ability to duel had progressed at an exponential rate and he was ashamed to think of the times he'd come up against Draco Malfoy and how juvenile their confrontations had been. However, quickly he'd realized that he was becoming an even match for Professor Moody and despite how far he'd come, he knew that didn't make sense. Professor Moody was a professional auror, a dark wizard hunter. More than that, he was a legend among aurors. Harry wanted to dismiss it as the natural decline of age, but when he measured that thought against Professor Dumbledore's still mythic prowess, he wondered if that could be right.
He decided to test the auror and had limited himself to simply defending during one duel.
They'd faced each other across an empty classroom. Harry bowed and Professor Moody gave him a dirty look. The only reason he didn't say anything was that he watched as Harry kept his eyes on his opponent the entire time, which made it barely acceptable.
"Ok, Potter, on three." Moody snarled, "One, two…. Stupefy!"
Harry laughed and sidestepped the red bolt of energy. He'd quickly learned that when facing the crusty old auror, there were no rules.
"Reducto!" Moody spat, destroying a table when Harry dived out of the way.
"Diffindo!" Moody shouted. Harry sidestepped.
"Everbero!" He yelled, growing breathless. Harry didn't move, seeing the bludgeoning hex was going to miss anyway.
Harry was shocked, realizing that not only did he not feel in danger, he didn't even feel challenged.
"Confringo!" the one-eyed auror cast. Harry finally decided to quit his testing and cast in return.
"Protego. Expelliarmus. Petrificus totalus!" Harry blocked, disarmed, and bound his opponent.
"Erm. Thanks for the practice, Professor." Harry said, beginning to walk off.
"Potter! Think you could release me?" Moody asked.
Harry released him, walking off more confused.
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One night after late night spell casting practice, Harry stumbled up to the common room with Hermione under the invisibility cloak. Both were exhausted. They wouldn't even need to dump any magical energy into the wards, as they had emptied their reserves, practicing obsessively to try to get ready for the third task. No matter how well he had done in the first two tasks, Harry knew it wasn't likely he'd be able to stay ahead of the older champions. You couldn't make up years of study by one year of focused work. Well, he rephrased, perhaps Hermione could, but not him. He knew he was probably up to the standards of the average student in Cedric's year, but the average student wouldn't have been picked by the Goblet. He couldn't have transfigured the dogs Cedric had used to solve the first task and while his idea had worked better, he knew a single good idea probably wasn't be enough for the third task. It was supposed to be the capstone, forcing the champions to show all they knew. Despite all of Hermione's efforts, he was afraid what he knew wasn't going to be enough. Hermione hid it, no matter how difficult that was with the bond, but he suspected she also worried. Their worries drove them to train harder, study more, and try to force themselves beyond their limits.
They skipped their regular bonding practice and dragged themselves up their individual rooms. Harry had fallen into bed after pulling off his shoes and robes, falling asleep mostly dressed.
He woke in a dark hallway, looking into a grim looking sitting room. A chair was in the center of the room, back to him. Harry couldn't see who sat in the chair, but there were two shapes on the floor beside the chair. One was a huge snake! It made the snake he'd spoken to before his first year look like a garden snake and looked sinister. The other was a man. Not much of a man, but a short, balding man with watery eyes and pointed nose. He was sobbing and retching on the rug near the chair.
"You are fortunate indeed, Wormtail. Your blunder could have cost us dearly, but the old man was too damaged by my hospitality to give them any information. I feared they would have stopped our plans as soon as his appearance told them something was amiss, but the old fool Dumbledore is overconfident. He continues to underestimate me and he will pay for his mistake." A cold, high-pitched voice came from the occupant of the chair, someone Harry couldn't see, but he feared.
"My lord! I am so pleased…and so very sorry." Wormtail groveled.
"Nagini, I am afraid I have to disappoint you. You will not feed Wormtail to you… this time. Wormtail, perhaps a reminder of how I discourage failure. Crucio!"
Harry heard the man scream and scream. He tried to back away, but tripped. He seemed to be wrapped in something. He screamed, trying to get away.
"Harry!" someone said, shaking him, "Harry, mate, wake up! You're having a nightmare!"
Harry woke to see a blurry Ron shaking him.
"Are you all right?" Neville asked, fearfully.
"Not sure." Harry groaned. He felt his clothes were soaked in cold sweat. "My scar hurts."
"Your scar hurts?" Ron asked, "You're going to have to tell Dumbledore about that one."
"You're probably right. For now, though, I'm just going to get some more sleep." Harry said.
He felt the suggestion of a sleepy mental question that felt like Hermione. He sent reassuring thoughts back.
Once he had changed into dry pajamas, he spent time meditating and reinforcing his occulomentic shields. This was a reminder that he didn't dare neglect his practice.
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The next day he went to the Headmaster's office after his classes. He was stopped by the Gargoyle, the first time that had happened in months. He'd grown used to being automatically admitted.
"Move, I have to speak to the Headmaster!" Harry said urgently. He would swear the gargoyle rolled his eyes at him.
"Fine. Lemon drop. Licorice whip. Cinnamon Snitch. Chocolate Bludger." Harry said, rapidly growing inpatient, "Fizzing Whizbee. Every Flavor Beans? Chocolate Frog. Cockroach Cluster."
He was interrupted by the grating sound of the gargoyle moving aside. It looked almost irritated at having to open.
"Cockroach cluster?" Harry asked, incredulous, "I was actually kidding with that one, that's rather foul."
He moved up the stone staircase, stopping before the door. He could hear voices on the other side, sounding like Professor Dumbledore, Professor Moody, and Minister Fudge.
"He still hasn't given us any information of use, Albus." Fudge said, "He's in St. Mungos and they're doing everything they can. I have the best aurors questioning him, but all he talks about are his wife, his son, and some unknown 'Him'. It's really been useless. I think the tournament finally unhinged him after all the stress with his family before he had to be rather delicate."
"What about Bertha, Minister?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"Ludo said she was perfectly capable of getting lost on her own. I don't think anything of it." Fudge replied, "We have no evidence of foul play."
"You think Barty went insane spontaneously and Bertha Jorkins disappeared by coincidence, despite the fact they were both involved in the Ministry's efforts to coordinate the Tri-Wizard tournament? That does not strike you as too coincidental?" the Headmaster asked in a voice of authority.
"Jorkins has a memory like a sieve, Ludo tells me." Fudge stammered, "As for Barty Crouch, perhaps he was attacked. Have you considered that woman from France? Do you know what she is?"
"I am well aware of her heritage and trust her implicitly." Dumbledore replied, "Perhaps we will make more progress if we look around the grounds once more, near where Mr. Potter stumbled across Mr. Crouch."
"Speaking of Mr. Potter," Professor Moody said, "Perhaps you should let him in."
Professor Dumbledore opened the door before Harry could move away.
"Erm. I needed to talk to you Professor." Harry mumbled, "I'm sorry to interrupt."
"Quite all right, my dear boy. It must be urgent to interrupt your preparations for the tournament. Unfortunately, we were about to leave to have a walk around the grounds. Perhaps you could wait here for my return?"
"Sure, Professor." Harry replied, as the others moved past him.
As Harry heard the adults moving down the staircase, he took a moment to look around. Fawkes, the Headmaster's phoenix, was on her perch, a glorious red/gold swan-sized bird, with intelligent eyes and a strong sense of magic. With his auramancy, Harry could better appreciate the waves of red, gold magic pouring off the bird like fire.
"Hello, Fawkes." Harry offered, greeting his friend. The phoenix replied with an inclination of his head and a trill of phoenix song.
The patched and ragged Sorting Hat sat on a shelf, surrounded by more subtle, more complex, and more difficult to decipher magical auras. The Sword of Gryffindor, a magnificent silver sword with rubies inlaid into the hilt, hung in a dedicated case nearby. The magic around it was silvery with red highlights and looked as sharp as the sword itself. There was an odd greenish tinge along edge and point that reminded Harry of the basilisk and perhaps also of the magic of the killing curse, but beyond that he couldn't place it. Next to the sword's case, there was a black case, whose door had not been fully closed. A glimpse of pulsating silvery magic reflected from within, looking like sunlight reflecting off water or perhaps bright moonlight, given the color.
He edged closer and saw a rune-carved basin filled with a whitish-silvery liquid. The liquid constantly shifted, like water pushed by wind. He thought to touch it, but then thought better. He cast a few detection spells he'd learned for the third task and saw no hint of curses or other obvious danger. However, Moody had ingrained a certain amount of caution, so he reached out with his wand and poked at it. The liquid began moving very fast and then seemed to clear and brighten. When Harry looked in again, he saw a room where he would have expected to see the bottom of the basin. As he looked closer, his nose just touched the surface of the liquid and he felt himself pulled into the room. He fell, landing on a courtroom bench. Surprisingly, nobody seemed shocked at his sudden appearance in the classroom. He startled when he saw Dumbledore next to him.
"Headmaster! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize what I was doing, I didn't mean…" Harry trailed off, realizing the Professor wasn't paying any attention to him at all.
Harry looked around more, seeing Dementors and feeling the chill from their presence. Just then he was distracted by a prisoner being led in and seated. It was Karkaroff!
Harry proceeded to watch the Death Eater's trial. He was shocked to learn of the Durmstrang Headmaster's past and shocked to learn of Professor Snape's association, as well. He saw Barty Crouch Jr.'s trial and saw Ludo Bagman as a young man. Eventually he looked over and saw Dumbledore beside him. Strangely, there were two Dumbledores. One of them, the one who had just appeared, took his hand.
"Come, my boy. Let us go."
With a swirl, they left the courtroom and were again in the office, looking down on the basin.
"What is this, Professor? Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…it's just the door was open and light…" Harry stuttered and stammered, embarrassed by his prying.
"Curiosity is only natural, Harry. I only hesitate to think how curious you must be now, with Miss Granger's intellectual curiosity and your talent for finding yourself in odd places over the years. I should have guessed where I would find you, had I realized I had left this door open." Dumbledore offered.
"I saw what happened at the trial. Mr. Crouch's son… what happened?"
"His son was associated with the Death Eaters and sentenced to Azkaban. His father was a strict man and very strongly for the light. He disowned his son before his son's death in Azkaban. Unfortunately, the stress also exacerbated health problems for Mrs. Crouch and she died around the same time. Losing all his family was difficult, but the man immersed himself in his work at the ministry. However, the Minister speculates that stress plus the recent stresses of the Tri-Wizard tournament are what broke his mind. I think otherwise." Dumbledore explained.
"Has he said anything else?" Harry asked.
"No and I doubt he is likely to." Dumbledore continued, "Now what brought you to see me? You wanted to tell me something?"
"I had a dream last night." Harry said, "I woke up and my scar was on fire."
He related the nightmare he had had. The adult wizard listened carefully and asked a few questions.
"Well, you must be vigilant about your occulomency exercises, specifically before bed. I will speak to Professor Snape about more tutoring, but I think this is explained by your exhaustion and lack of meditation before bed. Pieces are coming together, but I have not been able to put them together. I have actually been talking to your friend, Mr. Ronald Weasley, to try to put together a pattern. He has a remarkable gift, if only I can continue to train it and overcome his natural… reticence to immerse himself."
"In anything but Quidditch, Professor?" Harry said with a smirk.
"Watch yourself." Professor Dumbledore said, "There is definitely more at work than we see."
"Do you think Voldemort's becoming stronger?" Harry asked.
"His first ascent to power was accompanied by disappearances. Now we have the disappearance of Ms Jorkins. We have the disappearance of a muggle, Frank Bryce. We have the disappearance and reappearance of Mr. Crouch, clearly having been affected by the Cruciatus curse.
"In Mr. Crouch's trial, they were talking about Longbottoms. Are they related to Neville?" Harry asked softly.
"Have you ever asked Mr. Longbottom why he was raised by his grandmother?" Dumbledore replied.
"No, I never thought about it." Harry answered, feeling guilt that he never thought to ask one of his best friends about his home life, "Did the Death Eaters kill them?"
"No, they were not killed. Death might have been a blessing." Dumbledore said, sadly.
He explained about the torture by Cruciatus curse. He spoke of how prolonged exposure could break the mind of even a strong willed auror like Neville's parents. With Mr. Crouch also affected, it was clear how dangerous this unforgiveable was.
"So you see that your family was not the only one torn apart by Voldemort. You and Neville have much in common. I think you would both benefit from a closer friendship. Mr. Longbottom is a typical Longbottom, with so much loyalty that he would be certain to be sorted into Hufflepuff if it were not for the hidden core of courage. Your houses were historically closely aligned on the side of the light."
Harry nodded, deep in thought.
"You probably have more preparation to do?" Dumbledore asked by way of dismissal.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for the information." Harry said, heading for the door and planning to catch up with Hermione to share what he had learned.
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Hermione was growing more and more nervous, driven by two concerns - upcoming end of the year tests and Harry's final task. Despite her growing confidence and less neurotic approach to academics, influenced by Harry, the habits of a lifetime were never going to completely disappear. She was almost constantly in the library, either revising for upcoming exams or researching spells to use in the task. She still spent time with Harry, but much of it was revising together. Hermione found his new academic prowess to be very cute, so she took pleasure in studying with him in the common room, knowing if she looked up to watch him, she would often find him watching her study. She would grin, blush, and return to her studying. Her life was so much happier now that she'd found him. She sometimes worried that her love for him detracted from her academics, since she did find herself distracted studying near him and she spent hours researching for him, hours that could only come from her own study time. What she didn't realize was how much her growing confidence was giving her the ability to trust her knowledge and push her intellect from the amazing font of recall she had always been known for to a combination of incredible knowledge and stunning creative synthesis of new ideas. Her professors were secretly amazed that Harry wasn't the only one who had somehow become a better student through their relationship.
Ron had also grown throughout the year. He was receiving individual lessons from Dumbledore, although he didn't tend to talk about them much. His confidence, too, had grown, seeing how Harry needed his help with strategy and Hermione actually treated him like an intellectual equal as they brainstormed for the tasks. He was still likely to skive off occasionally to play chess or fly, but with Harry being more focused, he'd lost his usual partner-in-crime and it wasn't as fun, pushing him to actually devote himself somewhat to his studies.
Harry did worry that he had pulled them both away from their studies to help him too often. They were working on hexes in an unused classroom when his concern finally became too much.
"I'm fine, I can work on this alone. You both probably need to study and I'm keeping you from it." Harry said, looking down guiltily.
"Don't be absurd." Hermione said shortly, "Besides, at least we'll all ace our defense against the dark arts practical. We wouldn't have learned half the spells we have this year if we weren't helping you."
"Don't worry about it, mate!" Ron said, "You know if it wasn't for this, I'd just be playing chess. At least this way, I'm learning something." Ron proceeded to hit a fly with an impediment hex, stopping it completely.
After Harry's worries, the exams themselves were somewhat anticlimactic. Despite putting on a good front for Harry, Hermione thought she'd go spare until she actually sat down with the tests and realized she was very much over prepared. She realized she wouldn't have grasped that last year, in fact hadn't grasped that. While she knew enough to know what she knew and what she didn't know, her unrealistically high standards had always forced her to focus on the details where she knew she could have gone into a little more depth instead of the majority of the exam, where she knew she had done a very thorough job. Having Harry's viewpoint available had helped. She still couldn't help but obsess a little.
"Harry, do you think I should have referenced the Abyssinian hieroglyphs on the final question of the runes exam? I thought the Coptic was much more applicable, but I do see how the Abyssinian would have influenced the development. "
"Hermione, given that I barely know what you're talking about, I think you're probably fine." Harry teased.
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The day of the final task seemed to crawl by for Harry. It hadn't started well, with the morning Prophet article that accused Harry of being insane or perhaps dark.
"How could Skeeter know I sometimes have problems with my scar hurting and sometimes have nightmares?" Harry asked, confused. "It hardly ever happens now that I'm really getting good at the lessons with Snape, but one night I forgot to meditate, we'd been up so late practicing and I just fell asleep. I had a nightmare and woke with my scar burning. How could she know?"
"I don't know, mate." Ron said around a mouthful of food, "It's not like any of the boys would say anything about your nightmares. We're all pretty used to them by now."
"Hermione, do you know any magical means of bugging?" Harry asked, true to character returning to his usual source of information, despite his own personal advances.
"Bugging?" Hermione said, her eyes glazing a bit.
Harry recognized the signs of hyperfocus Hermione showed when her mind went into overdrive. When he had half felt it in his mind, he'd thought it felt exactly like he would have guessed. He compared it to hyperspace on Star Wars. If normal thinking was like normal flying, then when Hermione's mind went into her abnormally fast processing mode, he just imagined every thought in her head developing lines as her mind leapt forward.
"Bug. That witch. She can't do that! It's not allowed." Hermione said, snippets of thoughts emerging from the torrent in her head, "I have to go to the library. I'll catch up to you later."
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After breakfast, Harry had been called into a small room off the great hall. He had been surprised to see Sirius, Remus, Molly Weasley, and Bill Weasley there waiting for him.
"Sirius!" Harry shouted, running to his Godfather. The two hugged.
Harry got pulled into a hug with Mrs. Weasley and received manly handshakes from Lupin and Bill.
"Professor Lupin." Harry said properly. He could see the moment the man's face fell, "I guess since you're not my professor anymore, would it be ok to call you Uncle Remus?"
"I'd like that very much, Harry." Remus said with a smile.
Walking around the grounds with the Marauders and the Weasley family helped. It had been such a relief that the Dursleys hadn't been somehow brought to Hogwarts that Harry felt like his luck might be good, but he was terribly worried about the third task. Hermione and Ron had come up with a brilliant strategy, but like most of their ideas lately, it was very creative. Like the portkey for the second task, he knew if their strategy worked, it would be a winning strategy, but if it didn't work, it would delay him, maybe enough to erase his lead and take away whatever buffer he might need to make up for years less magical knowledge compared to the other Champions. Harry found himself talking about tactics and plans with Sirius, Remus, and Bill. There was more magical knowledge amongst the three men than he could hope to capture. Between the two Marauders and a Gringott's curse breaker, he knew they were experts, so he tried to pump them for information while they walked.
When they returned to the great hall for lunch, Ron had been surprised to see his mother and brother. Harry had noticed Mrs. Weasley giving Hermione a funny look and wondered why. Hermione looked away and he felt the hurt through their bond. He had to think hard to try to understand what was happening, but he finally understood.
"Mrs. Weasley, do you read the Prophet?" Harry asked.
"Mmm.., yes, Harry, I do." Molly answered.
"Did you believe the article about me this morning?" Harry asked.
"Of course not, Harry! You're like a son to me! Whatever gave you that idea?" Mrs. Weasley asked, shocked.
"I've just been down about it and wanted to make sure you didn't believe it. That Rita Skeeter is terrible. I couldn't believe what she wrote about Hermione. Made her sound like an awful person and as much as suggested she had used a love potion on me."
Molly looked between Harry and Hermione, saw the Potter crest embroidered on Hermione's robes, indicative of her status as Harry's fiancée, saw the engagement ring, and her thought processes were open on her face as she realized they were both truly in love, mourned some grand fairy tale schemes she had held in her heart, and accepted what anyone with eyes could see in front of her.
"Harry, you're right. I never realized how venomous that woman is! I think it's time the Weasley family stops taking the Prophet. I never got a chance to congratulate you, Harry, Hermione! Of course, you could have sent an owl, but never mind that, now. We'll simply have to throw you an engagement party this Summer. After all, we can't expect Sirius to think of it, since he's such a man."
"Hey!" Sirius pouted, "Maybe you're right, but he'll be happy to have me when it comes time to plan the bachelor party."
The three men laughed about that while Harry blushed.
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At the evening feast, the ceiling darkened from blue to purple. The Headmaster stood and said,
"In five minutes time, I will ask everyone to proceed to the Quidditch field to observe the third task of the Tri-Wizard tournament! Eternal fame and glory will be earned. Will the Champions follow Mr. Bagman at this time?"
Harry got up and began walking. Hermione gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered words of encouragement, echoed by the bond. Ron gripped his shoulder and gave him a look of admiration and encouragement. The Gryffindors all cheered and tried to touch his tournament robes as he followed Mr. Bagman and the other Champion out of the hall. Harry gently straightened his robes, feeling the enchantments he and Hermione had layered into the sturdy tournament robes. He was as ready as he would ever be, but he still felt it was hopeless. He had been lucky so far, but winning against Champions two years ahead of him seemed impossible.
"Feeling all right, Harry?" Bagman asked, seeming to read his mind, "Confident?"
Harry wondered why the Head of Games seemed so invested in his performance. It was really quite irritating.
"Fine, sir." He said, hurrying away.
They walked onto the Quidditch pitch, radically changed with the hedge maze. Harry focused on centering himself, working through an occulomency exercise to calm himself. It worked and he felt his nervousness decrease. He felt the moment approaching, the moment he had been made for. Whether it was a Quidditch game or fighting Voldemort, he might be so shaky he felt like vomiting, but there always came a point when the action started that all the worries, all the nerves seemed to vanish and all he felt was the moment. He was startled to realize that in some small way he'd begun to live for those moments, no matter how scary the situations were.
Harry scanned the stands. He saw Hermione first. He knew he'd always be able to point to her, eyes open or closed, he knew right where she was at any given time. She smiled at him and he knew everything would work out. Ron gave him a reassuring nod. He looked around more and spotted Professor Snape, in his black robes and ludicrous hat with a red luminous star on his hat. Despite the hat, he still looked sinister. Harry remembered the trial and his exposure as a Death Eater. They caught each other's eyes and he felt Snape's mental probe hit his shields and stop. The ghost of a sinister smile quirked the Potion Master's lip and he gave a miniscule nod before sweeping his black robes and turning away.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament is about to begin! Mr. Potter, in the lead, will start first, followed by Mr. Diggory, in second, both representing Hogwarts!"
He paused for the cheers and applause to stop.
"In third place, Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang!"
Applause and cheers, more muted for this visitor, but strong due to his international fame.
"Last, but definitely not least, the beautiful Miss Delacour, of Beauxbatons."
Loud cheers for the gorgeous part-Veela.
"On my whistle, then, Mr. Potter. Three…two…one…" Mr. Bagman's whistle sounded and it was as if time stopped for Harry. His vision cleared and he felt perfect focus. His breathing evened and he settled on his legs, ready.
Hermione had come to their decided strategy while reading, as so often happened. The maze had its origins in the classic Greek. The legend of the Minotaur was well known. Only slightly well-known was the architect of the labyrinth, Daedulus. Daedulus was imprisoned for a crime against his own nephew, but eventually escaped by use of wings he'd fashioned out of wooden framework with feathers held on by wax. His son, Icarus, had perished after his wings disintegrated when he flew too close to the sun.
Harry whipped his wand from his robes and in move he'd made trademark since the first task, shouted,
"Accio, broom!"
His firebolt shot towards him from Hermione in a repeat of the first task. He grasped it and kicked into the air before it even came to rest. The crowd murmured in surprise, having expected him to run to the entrance of the maze. Instead, he blazed over it, already accelerating hard on the racing broom.
They'd debated how high he would fly. Hermione worried there might be wards protecting the top of the maze, because if you could fly above it or climb over it, that would defeat the purpose. Harry, with his knowledge of runes, had asked where the wards would be based. Hermione had admitted she didn't think wards could be placed on top of the maze without obstructing the maze itself. She had never read of anti-flying wards and thought if they existed, they would have been used in the castle, but none were in place, as the occasional student found to his delight and eventual detention. So Hermione recommended staying low. Ron, on the other hand, had advocated for high. This would get Harry further from threats and give him a greater view. Harry had decided on low and his shoes almost dragged the hedge as he shot into the maze.
He dodged as the sharp claw of an acromantula almost caught him. He heard a rip as his robe tore. He suddenly dodged again as he almost flew into a cloud of glowing golden mist. The sense he got through his auramancy suggested touching that mist would have been dangerous, perhaps fatal while flying at such high speeds. He had time to register surprise on a sphinx's face before flashing overhead and away. He saw the center of the maze and the Cup before the Firebolt had even had time to hit top speed. In a reckless move, he went into a quick dive, almost hitting the ground before grabbing the cup and angling upward. He hadn't even heard the second whistle for Cedric to take the field and he'd won.
Or thought he'd won. He felt a sickening lurch as he felt a fishhook buried into his belly. The sensation quickly resolved into him being turned inside out and then spinning into a tiny tunnel. He recognized a Portkey, but had never touched one while flying, especially near top speeds. He wasn't sure anyone had ever taken a Portkey while flying. He vaguely remembered warnings against it.
Suddenly, he was out of the Portkey sensation. His vision was filled with odd stone obstacles. He managed to dodge one, jink around a second, but with his disorientation and at his speed, he clipped a third and went bouncing along the ground, hitting stone blocks forcefully. He was about to lose consciousness when he heard a voice.
"Stupefy." And all went black.
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A/N: I like cliff hangers better as a writer than I do as a reader. Sorry.
I like this one. I've got one or two more to finish off the Tri-Wizard tournament, then I'll start onto the portion of Harry's life covered by the next book. I'm planning to diverge more from the canon plot. As part of that, I'll stop referencing canon quite as much and go my own way a bit. That may mean I make mistakes, but just consider them deviations. Feel free to point them out. At some point I may edit to change some things anyway. I'm still considering expanding the second task to have Harry jump in to try to save Gabi when he realizes she's still underwater, but I haven't decided. Thoughts?
I'm excited about the next chapter. The part that keeps sticking in my head is a Hermione-centric part where she jumps into the fray. Hope you like it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.