chapter 71

The day of the final task of the fateful Triwizard Tournament had finally arrived. Although the event was not set to commence until the early evening, a collective afternoon off had been granted to all students. Classes after lunch were canceled—not that any student from the three competing schools could care less. Harry and Draconica had initially planned to use their free hours to relax together, but those plans quickly vanished before lunch even started.

As they reached the Great Hall's doors, they were approached by the three true champions, who invited them to join a picnic organized for them and their families. With a mere shrug, the young couple accepted the invitation—after all, it seemed like the picnic could be a delightful way to spend the afternoon. Plus, it would be quite rude to decline.

So, they found themselves led to a sunlit slope near Hogwarts, where it appeared everyone else had already gathered. Families were scattered about, sitting on spread blankets amid a smorgasbord of snacks and hearty meals.

Harry and Draconica easily recognized Cedric Diggory's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, having met them on previous visits to the Ministry of Magic. Likewise, Fleur Delacour's mother and younger sister stood out, as they, too, were part-Veela, much like the Beauxbatons champion. Apolline Delacour exuded calm and grace, embodying the ideals of a proper lady, while her younger daughter, Gabrielle, was a vivacious whirlwind of energy, seemingly incapable of sitting still. Meanwhile, Mr. Delacour, despite his impressive physique for a pure-blood wizard, was all but overshadowed by the radiant beauty of his wife and daughters.

The Krum family, despite having an internationally renowned Seeker as a son, resembled a typical affluent family. Mr. Krum was a burly man who looked like an older version of Viktor, with a nearly-permanent scowl that belied a gentleman's demeanor. His wife, while devoid of Veela-like beauty, still turned heads with her striking dark hair and pleasant personality.

As the picnic—an unexpectedly enjoyable experience for Harry and his beloved Slytherin—unfolded, Harry couldn't help but ponder how these seemingly disparate people had formed such close bonds. It occurred to him that their camaraderie might have sprung from the chaos triggered by the Goblet of Fire's magical binding contract last autumn. If there had to be one silver lining to that cursed contract and the Ministry's failure to disclose critical details, it was this blossoming friendship among champions from four houses across three countries.

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About half an hour before the task was scheduled to commence, Mr. Bagman summoned all four champions to a large tent situated near the edge of the maze's wards. The Ministry official reiterated the rules of the final task to the four teens and reminded them that they needed their orbs, which they all had in hand.

Once the briefing concluded, Bagman requested the Hogwarts professors to assist in leading the champions to their starting positions. These same professors would patrol the perimeter of the maze during the task, ready to assist any champion who found themselves in a predicament. However, receiving such help would result in automatic disqualification—an obvious but critical rule.

Harry found himself with Professor Moody as his guide. He quickly sensed a faint, well-controlled aura of menace radiating from the scarred man, reinforcing his growing suspicion that something was amiss. Yet, since Moody—or whoever was impersonating him—had not yet acted against him, Harry remained outwardly nonchalant, staying vigilant nonetheless.

"Follow me, Potter," Moody barked, turning on his peg leg and marching out of the tent. Not wanting to be left behind to navigate alone, Harry hurried after him.

Stepping outside, Harry was struck by the sight of the magical wards around the maze finally lifted, revealing towering walls of magical foliage. Time had proven this maze's rapid growth; it had barely reached a few inches just a month prior. However, he had no time to ponder its mystical nature, as Moody hustled ahead, unexpectedly quick for a man with a prosthetic leg. After nearly ten minutes of brisk walking, they arrived at Gate Two, located almost directly opposite the tent on the Quidditch pitch.

"There you are, Potter." Moody gestured. "You'll be able to open this gate when your task begins. They explained how to do this, right?" Harry nodded. "Good. I should get to my position—I wouldn't want something to go awry." Moody then turned to face Harry once more. "One last piece of advice: constant vigilance!"

"Of course, Professor," Harry replied dutifully.

With that, Moody shuffled away, leaving Harry alone to wait for the task to commence. Ludo Bagman's magically amplified voice soon rang out, announcing the start of the final task. Bagman began by reviewing the champions' rankings—Harry was in third place, just six points behind the leader, Viktor Krum. Not that he cared much about the rank; he knew he'd have to stand idly by at his gate for a full minute before the task officially kicked off.

Once Bagman finished speaking and the clock on the Hogwarts tower struck six, a loud bang echoed through the air, signaling Krum's entry into the maze. Twenty seconds later, another bang announced Fleur's turn. Finally, after a seemingly interminable forty seconds, it was Harry's time to go. He watched as a magical ward over his gate dissolved, revealing the locking mechanism.

Inserting the orb he'd retrieved during the second task into the gate's lock, the door vanished, allowing him passage while the orb returned to his grasp. With the way clear, the green-eyed teen stepped into the maze, quickly realizing he could no longer hear the cheering crowd outside. The tournament's organizers likely had placed wards to muffle outside sounds. Not a bad idea.

Shaking off distractions, Harry proceeded cautiously through the maze, knowing the center awaited him—the location of the Goblet he needed to claim victory. While he understood the general direction he should be heading, there were no guarantees he wouldn't encounter dead ends. Still, this approach felt preferable to following the traditional 'wall-follower' method.

Minutes passed without a hint of danger, raising Harry's suspicion. He found it unsettling that he had yet to encounter any obstacles, magical traps, or beasts. Perhaps he was simply being paranoid, he mused. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he rounded a corner—only to nearly collide with an acromantula. The spider, though smaller than its kind, was still a formidable opponent. Quick to react, Harry jumped back just in time to avoid its crushing pincers.

Withdrawing a few steps, he readied himself as the creature reappeared in his line of sight.

"Confringo!" Harry shouted, directing the blasting curse at the arachnid's legs, which shattered the joint. As the acromantula emitted a wretched scream, he seized the opportunity to cast a powerful piercing curse at its head. The spell punctured the beast's shell, obliterating its brain. After ensuring the creature lay lifeless, Harry stepped over it and pressed onward.

He had anticipated facing greater challenges in the maze. After twenty-five minutes of exploration, he had only encountered a handful of magical traps and creatures: the acromantula and another one of a slightly larger size, a dark dead-end filled with devil's snare, and an enchanting mist that disoriented him. For a task designed to test only the strongest wizards and witches, the maze felt surprisingly devoid of danger.

After navigating a bit longer, Harry found himself in front of what appeared to be another gate similar to those he had opened before. Placing his orb into the locking mechanism, the gate vanished as expected, revealing another passageway.

Stepping cautiously inside, he heard the hurried clatter of approaching feet behind him—not a reassuring sound. Turning around, he barely had time to react before a blast-ended screwt charged at him, ready to impale him with its sharp stinger.

Leaping aside just in time, Harry felt the jagged spikes on the screwt's armor graze his arm, opening several painful wounds. Swallowing a curse as pain coursed through him, he scrambled to regain distance before the creature recovered for another strike.

Recalling the weaknesses of blast-ended screwt, he remembered that their underbellies were less armored but that exposing them required effort. Despite their size and brute strength, these creatures lacked intelligence and could easily be misled. Additionally, they were slower to recover after launching themselves.

As the screwt prepared for another charge, Harry decisively took action. He conjured a blasting curse that exploded between them, creating a cloud of smoke that obscured his scent. Quickly, he tore off the bloodstained sleeve of his shirt and tossed it to the ground as a distraction. With that done, he dashed around a corner in the maze. It was a gamble, as he had no idea what lay ahead, but confronting the armored creature again seemed worse.

Fortunately, he didn't encounter any traps as he moved forward, allowing him to tend to his wounds in relative peace. The gash in his arm was deep, requiring more than a simple Episkey spell to heal effectively. Grateful for his extensive studies in both magical and non-magical healing, he prepared to use a more substantial spell.

"Vulnus Obducture," he intoned, directing his wand at the wound. After several seconds, the bleeding slowed and then ceased entirely. Flesh began to knit together, and within a minute, the pain faded to a mere annoying itch that reminded him of a wound that had only just existed.

Even so, healing magic drained him, leaving Harry fatigued. He knew recovery time was limited, however, as the screwt continued to search for its lost prey. To buy himself some time, he cast another smoke screen while using a spell known for freshening the air, releasing a scent of pine that would hopefully mask his presence. With this, the weary young wizard pressed deeper into the maze, intuiting he was close to the center—where the Goblet of Fire awaited.

At last, Harry arrived near the heart of the maze, standing just one gate away from the Goblet. He could hardly believe he was so close to concluding this long and arduous task. However, he did contemplate how the true winner would be determined if he arrived at the Goblet first—yet, he concluded, that was a concern for later. The desire to finish this chaotic tournament drove him on. With determination, he slid his key-orb into the locking mechanism, watching as the gate disappeared.

Now free to advance, he stepped into a small twenty-foot-square space. It had four entrances, three of which were still sealed. And at the center of this space stood a plinth proudly displaying the Goblet of Fire. Resolving to complete the task and end the tournament, Harry took a step into the room.

Suddenly, one of the remaining gates swung open, revealing a bedraggled Cedric, who appeared to have had his own share of perilous encounters. They locked eyes in brief astonishment, then took steps toward the plinth simultaneously, finding themselves mere feet from the coveted Goblet.

"Go ahead, take it, Cedric," Harry urged.

"But, Harry, Hogwarts has already won! You deserve it," Cedric insisted, his righteousness clashing with the moment.

Harry was determined. "I'm not a real champion! You should take it."

A tense silence fell as they exchanged gazes, and then Cedric relented. "Alright. We, as champions of Hogwarts, should take it together!" Before Harry could protest, the older student grabbed his hand, pulling him to the plinth. When they touched the Goblet, an unmistakable sensation jerked them both sharply, yanking at their navels—too late, they realized: the Goblet was a portkey!

For a fleeting moment, they imagined being transported to a celebratory stage where their victory would be announced. But as Hogsmeade rushed past in a blur, dread filled them, and the sobering truth hit—this was abduction.

The rocky journey ended as abruptly as it had started, depositing Harry and Cedric unceremoniously onto the ground in a neglected cemetery.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore…" Harry groaned, pushing himself upright. Even through the fog clouding his mind, he could sense they were in deep trouble.