38: Set Up and Spectacle

"We need to tell her," I asserted.

"Tell me what?" Fleur asked innocently.

Her current position didn't match her tone of voice. I was punishing her again. Well, it might be more appropriate to say we were playing our usual games.

All she wore was an open jean half-jacket on her top half. It obviously wasn't meant to be worn with nothing underneath it. It barely covered her breasts with its denim and left most of her torso and all of her midriff exposed. If she moved too much, it would come open all the way and nothing would cover her perfect tits.

Below that, the only thing that covered her lower half was a pair of cutoff jean shorts. Jean shorts that covered no more than a pair of panties. Her bum hung out and free, bubbly and perky as ever. A work of art could be found on the smooth skin there, painted in handprints and red marks on otherwise blemish-free flesh.

Her arms were held above her head, attached to a thin excuse for a chain to the ceiling. There was no doubt in my mind that Fleur could have escaped if she wanted to. If she wasn't having so much fun.

The outfit itself was entirely her idea. Hell, she just had the skimpy, high-fashion, designer clothes lying around somewhere. I hadn't had to magick anything into existence for this bit of play.

Fleur hung there of her own free will, ravished and glowing because of it. Her hair was a mess. Her chest heaved enticingly. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as I marked up her bum and left her dripping onto the floor. She'd soaked through the denim of her jean shorts.

What was this punishment about again…? At the moment, it didn't seem all that important. Some 'insult' or another she threw my way. We were taking a short break but we'd had an audience for a while now.

"Do we have to?" Heather asked, lounging on my bed as Shadow walked all over her to get comfortable on her stomach.

"It would seem to be prudent," Septima absently commented between marking papers.

"But she's my competition, isn't she?" Heather continued.

"Yes, and I shall win! I shall beat you, Sister Heather Potter!" Fleur insisted.

She looked way too proud for a woman who was currently tied up and still panting from punishment play…

"I'm not keeping this from her. She joined the coven. She's family now," I reasoned, putting my foot down.

"She is," Septima agreed. "And it would seem this plan has become something of a family activity."

Heather shrugged, "Okay, I don't have any real objections. Just thought I should mention it. I'm just glad to have help for once."

"You shall always have help from now on!" Fleur declared. "Even if we are opponents, we are sisters as well! The coven will support us both equally!"

"Well… maybe not equally this time. Heather's business is a bit more pressing at the moment," I said. "But, yeah, basically, Heather, you'll never be alone again."

Heather cracked a smile, "Heh, that'll show Petunia. Actually, this whole coven business will show her. She's always saying no one will ever want a relationship with a boyish girl like me. And now, I'm in an actual Witch's coven… She'll flip."

"That's if you ever want to interact with them again," I pointed out. "Even without the outcome we hope for from our plan, you wouldn't have to go back to them this summer. Sirius and I would always make sure of that."

Heather hesitated, "I… think I do. At least to throw some stuff in their faces. They might not have been good to me, per se, but they did look after me. Especially Petunia. Sometimes, I was the daughter she never had. Others, I was just a nuisance. Our relationship is… complicated."

I nodded, "The choice is yours. Just don't feel forced to do anything. People that love you are looking out for you now. Though, for Hermione, that always applied."

She blushed slightly, "She is pretty great… We'll see. I'll decide what I want to do with the Dursleys after everything else is finished."

"Good enough for me. But we're getting off-topic," I changed the subject. "Fleur needs to be brought in on the plan."

"But, of course!" Fleur puffed herself up. "How would you ever succeed in your plans without my excellence?"

I gave her bum a playful spank to shut her up. Fleur moaned, struggling tokenly against her bonds. Her back arched, almost enough to distract me. Still, I shook it off and focused for the moment.

"Anyway, Fleur," I rolled my eyes. "Would you agree that this tournament has been a mess from start to finish?"

Fleur nodded, "Oui. Sister Heather should not even be a champion! Not that she doesn't deserve it… But to be forced to compete!? Tres ridicule!"

I continued, "Well, we've found out why she was entered against her will. It's a plot to see Voldemort resurrected."

"Terrible! Do not worry, Sister Heather! I shall burn him to a crisp!" Fleur grew fiercely protective in an instant.

"Be my guest," Heather snorted.

I chuckled, "You may just get a chance. We're going along with the plot on purpose. And we'll be setting up a trap of our own with it."

Fleur gasped, "How devious!"

"We've already usurped Voldemort's inside man. We have powerful allies working with us, but the main trap is being laid by the coven. It involves one of our own so it's personal. I have a plan to deal with Voldemort once and for all."

"Wonderful! How can I help?"

"Err… That's the thing…" I explained. "The Triwizard Cup — the final trophy — is going to be trapped. It's a portkey. It'll take Heather to a graveyard where Voldemort will be holding his ritual. We'll have scoped out and prepared the location. But Heather still has to take it. Which means… you'll have to take a dive in the final task."

"Ahh! No, my glory, my prize, my victory~!" Fleur swooned dramatically.

"You have to Fleur. The whole trap hinges on Heather getting that portkey. She'll have backup, of course. We wouldn't send her into this alone. And we'll be right behind her. But you absolutely can't take her place."

Fleur grumbled, "Merde… I was in the lead too…"

"If it makes you feel better, no one will be thinking about the tournament after our trap is sprung. And you'll be part of the coven that ended Voldemort for good. Is that enough glory for you~?" I teased.

"Hmm," Fleur hummed, perking up slightly. "I suppose that will have to do. Yes… Yes! The world shall still remember the name 'Fleur Delacour'!"

"Gee, I wouldn't want to think you were just in this for the glory," Heather snarked.

Fleur looked scandalized and ashamed, "No! No, you have it all wrong, Sister Heather! I shall always help my sisters! I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. My… my pride gets away from me sometimes…"

Heather grinned like a fox, "Really? You don't say…? I would have never guessed."

Fleur nodded soberly, not picking up on the sarcasm in Heather's voice, "Oui, it is one of my flaws. Pride is the sin I struggle with the most."

"Not Lust~?" Heather teased.

Fleur blushed scarlet, "I-I have no idea what you could mean…!"

Heather shot her a deadpan look of disbelief, blatantly taking in Fleur's current position. Fleur's blush crept down her neck and onto her chest.

"T-This is merely… punishment! Yes! Punishment! There is no Lust to be found here!" Fleur sputtered an excuse.

"None at all~?"

"No!" Fleur hesitated. "… Perhaps a touch…"

Heather grinned, "Good because I've been wanting in on this for a while now~"

Fleur gasped in realization like this was all planned, "Ah! Of course~! Come, join me in my supplication for forgiveness, Sister~! This Devil's lust cannot be sated by me alone~! But together~! We shall make him know defeat~!"

"So… no questions about the plan for Voldemort?" I cut in to ask in slight disbelief.

"Later, Devil," Fleur scoffed. "There are more important things afoot~!"

I stared at Fleur for a moment. She stood proud, unflappable, as if she hadn't just been let in on our secret plan to rid the world of evil. My eyes darted to Heather, finding her still grinning like a fox in the henhouse. I glanced at Septima.

"Don't look at me. I've papers to mark," She said without looking up.

"C'mon, Teach~ Don't you wanna punish me too~?" Heather teased and tempted.

I rolled my eyes. With a wave of my hand, Shadow was dumped from Heather's lap. My familiar glared at me. Heather was seized by my magic. She giggled as I brought her over next to Fleur and stripped her naked. Another wave of my hand had her chained up just like Fleur.

Fleur pouted, "Why does she get to be completely naked?"

Heather giggled, "Oh~ Yeah, Teach, it's almost like you're not even trying to hide your 'devilish lust' anymore~"

"Because she didn't have a skimpy, teasing outfit already prepared for this exact situation," I said.

"You don't know that~" Heather singsonged back.

Fleur sniffed, "It is not 'skimpy'. It is high fashion. I merely omitted a few key articles of clothing."

I stepped between them, one hand on Fleur's already tender cheeks and the other on Heather's bum, fresh and firm like the perfect canvas for me to paint my masterpiece on. They shuddered. Their backs arched, pushing back into my touch. All the while, the 'chains' kept them 'trapped'.

"Whatever. Let's see if you two can manage to 'sate my devilish lust'…"

"Uh, Fleur…?" Heather said hesitantly.

"Y-Yes, Sister Heather~?" Fleur panted.

"Maybe… Maybe we shouldn't be teasing him so much…"

"Bah~! Where is the fun in that~?! We shall accept all the punishment we have rightly earned with high heads and eager flesh~! Do your worst, Devil~!"

Heather chuckled to herself, "… I'm in danger."

"Not too late to back out," I whispered in her ear.

Heather shook her head with a laugh, "Ha! Are you kidding?! This will be fun! Give me everything you've got, Teach~!"

"Right…" I sighed. "I should have known better than to think you would back down from a free spanking. Ready, girls?"

"Do your worst! I shall never yield!" Fleur declared.

My hand came down on her bum, making it jiggle and shake. Fleur squealed instantly, "I yield~! Ohhhhh~! I yield~!"

Heather burst into giggles despite her situation. A situation I was quick to remind her of, "You're next, Heather."

She wiggled her hips at me enticingly, "Try me-… *Whaaap~!*"

My hand smacking against her skin interrupted her taunt. Soon enough, Heather's squeals and moans joined Fleur's, "Ahhhhh~! Oooowwwwhhh~! T-Teach~!"

IIIII

< The Grind of Three Months >

< Stats >

< +15 to Body, +10 to Mind, +12 to Soul >

< Body 53+15=68/100+, Mind 61+10=71/100+, Soul 59+12=71/100+ >

< Combat >

< +4 to Dueling, +5 to Melee, +5 to Awareness, +5 to Focus, +6 to Evasion, +6 to Attack, +6 to Agility, +8 to Defense, +8 to Tactics, +10 to Accuracy >

< Dueling 55+4=59/100, Melee 10+5=15/100, Awareness 52+5=57/100, Focus 52+5=57/100, Evasion 48+6=54/100, Attack 47+6=53/100, Agility 51+6=57/100, Defense 46+8=54/100, Tactics 52+8=60/100, Accuracy 41+10=51/100 >

< Combat is now Tier 6 >

< Magic >

< +3 to Charms, +3 to Runes, +4 to DADA, +4 to Wandless Magic, +4 to Occlumency, +5 to Transfiguration, +5 to Magic Theory, +6 to Wanded Magic, +7 to Arithmancy, +9 to Dark Arts, +18 to Black Blood Magic >

< Charms 60+3=63/100, Runes 56+3=59/100, DADA 63+4=67/100, Wandless Magic 46+4=50/100, Occlumency 48+4=52/100, Transfiguration 57+5=62/100, Magic Theory 67+5=72/100, Wanded Magic 61+6=67/100, Arithmancy 53+7=60/100, Dark Arts 53+9=62/100, Black Blood Magic 30+18=48/100 >

< Social >

< +3 to Seduction, +5 to Teaching, +6 to Perception, +7 to Speech, +7 to Willpower >

< Seduction 50+3=53/100, Teaching 52+5=57/100, Perception 36+6=42/100, Speech 43+7=50/100, Willpower 53+7=60/100 >

< Creation >

< +6 to Conjuration, +8 to Wards, +8 to Ritual Magic >

< Conjuration 41+6=47/100, Wards 44+8=52/100, Ritual Magic 53+8=61/100 >

Time passed quicker than I realized. I was just always so busy. From the Grind to teaching classes to the coven, my days were jam-packed from dawn til dusk and then a good way into the night. It felt like I was just welcoming Fleur into the coven yesterday and yet it was the day of the Third Task already.

Progress from the Grind was plentiful. Both for myself and the people I was training. I saw myself reaching Tier 6 in Combat before the Third Task. Yet Heather still managed to eke out a win against me every so often in our spars.

Her magical core was growing in leaps and bounds. Her reflexes were as fast as lightning. She could match me in just about every physical contest. And her instincts in a fight were razor-sharp. She'd even managed to impress Mad-Eye Moody.

Despite my best efforts to expand her spell repertoire, her Magic was still only Tier 3. So I still dominated her in the Magic category but Heather was already Tier 5 for Combat.

She made the discrepancy work for her though. She stuck to a few key spells that she'd practiced to mastery and beyond. I was pretty sure her stunner alone could take down a bull elephant.

My fighting style was more varied and unpredictable. I still relied on raw power in places. But in others, I used unique and unheard-of spells to gain my advantage. I'd certainly read of more than enough spells to last a lifetime. And I might as well put that knowledge and high Magical Theory to work for me.

That was just the Grind for direct combat, only about half of our planned trap. The majority of our trap for Voldemort came from the preparation and ritual that would deal with him once and for all.

I'd been lucky enough to find a suitable ritual in "Rituals Through History, Good and Bad" — the mundane, informative, helpful, and utterly fascinating book Bella borrowed from Grimmauld Place for me. Well, I'd found more information on the ritual I'd already been thinking of — the one that banished the 'Immortal Titan' in Ancient Greece.

The Wizard Kronos was a Dark Lord who was influential enough in Greek Pre-History to become part of the culture's myths and legends. He'd also created something that could be charitably called Horcruxes. Proto-Horcruxes, if you will.

According to the helpful history book of rituals, Kronos wasn't chopped up after being defeated by Zeus — another mythological figure who was, in reality, a Wizard (a series of Wizards, in fact). His soul was in pieces before that as well. Zeus performed a ritual that gathered those soul pieces and banished them to 'Tartarus'.

There were still problems with the ritual, of course. In the original, Zeus powered the ritual with the sacrifice of his own newborn son. Which… just wasn't happening. No chance in Hell. However, I did appreciate that the book didn't try to censor that fact or make it more palatable for a modern audience.

The solution I'd found to the power requirement issue was actually found in the other book Bella borrowed for me — "Most Sinister Rituals of the Baleful Dark and Devouring Black".

Most of the rituals found there were bunk. As if they were as heinous as they were simply for the shock value. But here and there, I found some gems.

One of those gems provided me with a solution. It was a ritual that was designed to summon and subjugate Angels of all things. Well, it called them 'Angels'. Based on the biblically accurate nature of their description, I had a feeling they were actually Outsiders of one variety or another. Again, that just wasn't happening.

But the way the Angel summoning ritual was fueled was useful to me. So I stole just that part and worked to implement it with the banishing ritual. It still required sacrifice. But it was a sacrifice paid in blood — literal blood, not lives — and binding.

How I took care of the binding portion would be a surprise but I figured we'd have more than enough Death Eaters to bleed for a sacrifice. And this way, we wouldn't be a party to wholesale Human sacrifice. I had no problem with killing Death Eaters, but ritually sacrificing them was a step too far for me. None of us needed that taint on our souls.

The blood sacrifice also played very nicely into my ace in the hole. Which, surprisingly enough, wasn't the ritual. At least, not entirely. That card held just two words on the front: Family Magic.

Black Blood Magic was a Discipline I'd slowly been dipping my toes in for a while now — since it was unlocked, really. I was hesitant with my exploration. Careful beyond belief. Blood Magic wasn't something you dove into without thinking. That was a good way to find yourself quite literally drowning in blood.

I didn't even think about putting it into practice until I'd read every tome and grimoire the Black Family had to offer on the subject. Which was understandably a large selection. It was the House's Family Magic, after all. Generations of Blacks walked this path before me. I carefully followed in their footsteps.

Only a single tome gave me the confidence to practice the Discipline to the point I had. It was charitably titled "Black Blood Magic: A Guide for Inbred Idiots".

I imagine the author was exiled from the Black family for some reason or another in a generation long past. Their takes on the House as a whole were certainly scathing enough for it. But due to that — and perhaps because of it —, the advice within was much more cautious and well-reasoned.

The other family tomes treated Blood Magic as a quick path to dark power or like the authors had never and could never be bitten by it. Like they would never have their own blood literally turn on them.

"A Guide for Inbred Idiots" wrote about the Discipline like it was a Dragon or a Nundu. Beautiful, awesome, haunting, but most of all, useful so long as you knew what to look out for. Like those creatures, Blood Magic could be used for many things. But it had to be tamed or conquered first. It was a ruthless, methodical, and unforgiving perspective.

I was immediately taken. It was the pull of the Dark Arts all over again. But somehow more. Essential like the blood that flowed through my veins. It was my birthright as a Black. I could easily see how the other authors were sucked into their own hype and arrogance.

And where I conquered the mystic appeal of the Dark Arts, I conquered the instinctive urge for Blood Magic as well. Rituals, Charms, Curses, anything could be empowered by blood. It wasn't light or dark. It was primal, almost primitive. It was perhaps the first magic man cast, harnessing nature by the sacrifice of his own lifeblood.

It had become an important part of our trap as I adapted the plan with the addition of new information and advantages. With the day of the Third Task here, Bella and I had gone ahead to the graveyard where Voldemort would hold his resurrection ritual.

Hidden runes lined the perimeter of the graveyard. They were carved into the stone of the walled fence. Drawing the Runes themselves in blood was just asking for trouble. It left you at once, vulnerable to sabotage and weak as your blood was 'spread thin'.

As such, the Runes were anointed with just a drop of blood. My blood, Bella's blood, or even Sirius' blood. His magical connection to Heather as her Oath-Sworn Godfather would be important to protect her. He'd already gone back to keep Heather and the others company with Narcissa.

Bella and I stayed to finish the preparations. Parts of the ritual were set up as well. Lines and circles, designs were burnt into the ground and covered by false grass. Nothing was connected yet though. We didn't want to give Voldemort a chance to sense something was up.

To that end, the Runes weren't powered either. Just ready and connected to me and Bella by minuscule strands of Blood Magic. When activated, the Runes would lead to Wards. A great dome would spring into place around the graveyard. At that point, it was do or die. For us and for Voldemort.

We prepared the area. We set the trap. We waited…

IIIII

"-And don't play around. In and straight to the cup. But don't go too fast! Don't want to miss something easy, yeah? I'll tease you relentlessly for that. Got everything? Jersey? Token? Wand…?" Sirius worried over Heather as they stood, preparing for the Third Task to start.

He couldn't help himself. He felt like a mother hen! But this was James and Lily's daughter. If anything went wrong, they'd curse him back to life when he got to the Afterlife. He'd already messed things up for them once. He wouldn't do so again.

He loved Heather more than life itself. He couldn't let anything happen to her. Still, so much was happening. So much was about to happen. Things that would be out of his hands. And while he approved of the upcoming trap, he couldn't quite quell his nerves. Mostly of something happening before Heather could make it to the watchful eyes of Atlas and Bella.

Heather rolled her eyes, "Yes, Padfoot. I'll be fine. We trained for this. I'm as prepared as I'll ever be. Hermione even crafted a spell to help me navigate the maze."

Hermione blushed slightly at her side, "It was nothing… But you better still use it, Heather Lilyanne Potter! I won't have my hard work going to waste!"

"Relax, Sirius, Hermione. Heather will be fine," Septima reassured.

"Yep~!" Luna chimed. "She just has to get past the Wolfgangers at the beginning and she should be home free~! Be sure to watch out for their Howling Hood Tactics~!"

Near their group, similar scenes were taking place. Victor Krum nodded stoically as his betrothed princess brushed off his shoulders and fixed his jersey. She spoke to him in a soft voice as she did.

Cedric Diggory had a good portion of Hufflepuff House and a lone Ravenclaw gathered around him. 'Puffs stuck together, after all. And Cho Chang was more than willing to support and worry over her boyfriend.

Fleur was surrounded by her family. They were easily drawing the most eyes from the audience. Three goddess-like Veela in one place tended to do that. The glare Fleur's father sent those he caught staring seemed to keep anyone from getting any 'bright' ideas. Meanwhile, Fleur ranted arrogantly.

"-I shall be victorious, of course! I am the best Witch here! Soon, the sheep shall bear witness to my glory!"

She was merely pretending, channeling the persona everyone expected to see. Fleur knew she wouldn't win, couldn't win. The plan required Heather to be the first to the cup.

Fleur's job was to take a dive and prevent the other champions from getting too close. She was still a bit vexed by that role but she would do her part. No one wanted any slip-ups this close to the end of the game. If she channeled a bit of that vexation into her performance, well, that was to be expected, yes?

Gabrielle nodded along with Fleur's ravings, smirking knowingly, "Of course, Fleur. Victory is practically assured."

Internally, Fleur pouted slightly at Gabrielle's purposeful exclusion of 'her', "Yes… Victory… No matter! My name will ring throughout the ages soon enough! History shall remember the name Fleur Delacour… Black…"

She added the last word in barely a whisper. Gabrielle's smirk grew. Apolline chuckled to herself. Sebastion very pointedly did not scowl. He was better than that. And at least Fleur did not completely omit her maiden name.

The Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch had been completely converted for this task. Sets of stands had been erected for the audience to sit in and watch from. But most of the pitch was taken up by a sprawling hedge maze. Even now, the occasional roar or plume of fire could be seen from within the maze, warning the audience and the champions of what they would soon face.

Spirits were high. A large crowd had gathered, the champions were ready, the judges were watching, and even the Minister of Magic was there. Though with the recent troubles of his administration, Cornelius Fudge wasn't receiving the welcome he'd hoped for.

"Ah, Heather Potter! Just the Girl-Who-Lived I was looking for," Fudge approached Heather and her retinue, trying for a joke to break the ice between them.

Heather scowled, keeping her reply terse and tense, "Fudge. What do you want?"

Fudge spoke loudly, trying to draw attention to the fact he was talking with the Girl-Who-Lived, "Why, I just thought I'd come and wish the champions a bit of last-minute luck!"

"Really?" Heather deadpanned, making her skepticism known. "So you're not just approaching me specifically? 'Cause you walked straight past Victor and Cedric and I'm pretty sure Fleur's father glared at you when you tried to check out his daughter."

Fudge chuckled awkwardly, "Mere coincidence and misunderstanding, I assure you."

Heather snorted, "Yeah? No ulterior motives, Fudgey boy?"

"Please don't call me that…" Fudge shivered before quickly recovering. "But now that you mention it! Wouldn't it just be grand if you were endorsed as the Ministry's Champion? I just thought it was such a shame that Hogwarts wouldn't claim you. And as Lord Triwizard and Minister of Magic, I have the power to give you the Ministry at your back."

"I think I'd rather die in the maze," Heather grimaced.

"Come now, my girl-…" Fudge was interrupted by a literal growl from Sirius that made him reconsider his wording. "… Miss Potter. I have a jersey with our names on it and everything! Think of the good publicity! I think this could be the start of a very… profitable… relationship for both of us!"

Sirius was already on edge because of the tournament and trap planned afterward. He so didn't need this pasty wanker trying to put political moves on his Goddaughter as well! He suddenly shifted into his Animagus form.

There was a thunderous bark. Fudge jumped. Heather smirked. Hermione covered her face with a palm. Almost everyone had their attention drawn to the confrontation between the Minister and the Girl-Who-Lived.

Sirius snarled and snapped his jaws. Fudge took a few frantic, nervous steps backward. Satisfied with the added space, Sirius shifted back. Even then, he fixed Fudge with a glare that set fear into the Minister's heart.

"Fudge. If you get within five feet of my Goddaughter ever again… Well, like Umbridge, they'll never find your body," Sirius growled.

"I-I say…!" Fudge sputtered, immediately doing what he did best: deflecting. "Won't you do something about this, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore hummed, hiding a smirk, "Hmm? What was that? I'm afraid I'm becoming a bit hard of hearing in my old age…"

Fudge looked everywhere for support. He wouldn't find any. Everywhere he looked, he saw baleful looks and hostility. His time as Minister was so close to being up. Everything he'd done with the tournament — his last gambit — was clearly failing right before his eyes!

Then his nightmare continued. He saw Narcissa Black making her way down from the audience stands, casual and calm as can be. She took her time, not rushing for a moment. But Fudge knew she wouldn't hesitate to tear him apart! He had to get out of here!

He scrambled for an excuse, "W-Well-… That's-… I-I-… Do I smell smoke?"

"Oh, no~!" Hermione exclaimed in the fakest sounding voice possible. "You appear to have caught fire, Minister!"

Fudge didn't pick up on the obvious insincerity, "M-My word!"

His fancy 'Lord Triwizard' dress robes were smoking and smoldering. It didn't take long for them to burst into actual flames. Fudge fumbled for his wand. Shaky hands missed and dropped it to the ground. He scrambled to his knees to pick it up. All the while, the flames charred his robes beyond recognition and began to lick at his flesh…

Eventually, Fudge managed to get a hold of his wand and put the flames out. His robes were ruined. His skin was pink and tender. It hurt to move. Worst of all was the embarrassment. No, worst of all was that nobody raised a wand to help him…

Still, Fudge breathed a sigh of relief. Then the fire started right back up. He screamed. He squealed. He began sprinting about wildly as if he could put out the fire that way somehow.

"Oh, I hope no one reminds him of the Flame Freezing Charm~" Luna's tone was 'innocent' but her words were anything but. She could be surprisingly vindictive.

Heather's group turned their attention to Hermione, leaving Fudge to run about like a flaming chicken with its head cut off. Heather smirked at her, raising a knowing eyebrow. Sirius and Septima just looked kind of perplexed that Hermione had just done that.

Hermione shrugged, "What? I lit Professor Snape on fire for less."

That casual admittance sent Sirius into a barking, laughing fit that he didn't soon recover from…

IIIII

Dusk set over Hogwarts. At the Third Task, the energy in the air was like magic. The event was about to begin. Dumbledore stood to say a few words on behalf of the judges.

"Hello, hello, yes, yes," He tried to dismiss the unnecessary applause he was greeted with.

Eventually, he just snapped slightly, "Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?! Yes? Well then, shut up, sit down, and listen!"

Dumbledore's voice rolled out over the audience and they quickly complied. Dumbledore muttered to himself, uncaring that his Sonorus Charm picked up every word he said, "I'm getting too damn old for these simpletons…"

A moment later, he was smiling as if he hadn't said anything, "Thank you all for coming! And thank you for waiting for this 'illustrious' event to start."

The air quotes were audible but Dumbledore just pushed on nonchalantly, "I'm sure you all know our champions by now. If you don't, you obviously can't be trusted with remembering four simple names. I'm sure your children are very disappointed…

"No matter. The task today is very simple. Our four champions will have to venture into this maze and face its challenges. The first to reach the cup at the center will be the new Triwizard Champion!

"And I feel I must remind you that the challenges in this maze would send most of you running as if your behinds had been set aflame. Speaking of which, I'd like to thank Cornelius Fudge for the pre-task entertainment and his contributions to the task itself. Our 'venerated' Minister of Magic and Lord Triwizard has made some key changes to the task. I'll allow him to tell you about them himself," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with wicked amusement.

Fudge stood, grumbling as his prior 'misfortune' and current ruined state was put on full display. Still, he tried to make himself seem appropriately put together, "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Witches and Wizards! I stand before you today as not just your estimable Minister of Magic! But as Lord Triwizard as well!" He declared, trying for grandiose and landing on egotistical. "And oh boy, do I have a show for you!"

"Monsters! Curses! Traps and pitfalls! This maze has it all! And for that, you can thank me, your Lord Triwizard!" Fudge's greedy ego could be heard clearly by all who were listening.

Dumbledore coughed, commanding more respect with the slight sound than Fudge did with his whole speech, "Ahem… I do hope you ensured the maze was completely safe for our students, Cornelius…"

"A-Ah, o-of course, Headmaster Dumbledore… Perfectly safe," Fudge stumbled over the interruption. Internally, he winced. All he could do was cross his fingers and hope none of the champions ran into the Dementors…

"Anyway!" Fudge quickly regained his momentum to distract from any suspicion. "Not only will the task be more thrilling this way, but we, the audience, will be able to watch every moment of it. I've been able to secure a viewing method based on a complicated magical illusion that shall be left unexplained. No need to bore everyone."

Fudge waved at the bulky and all-together cumbersome set of canvas screens in front of the maze. It almost resembled a Muggle jumbotron. The screens flashed to life, providing real-time Wizarding photos of the champions. Heather, of course, stuck her tongue out at the unseen camera.

Absently, Sirius made a note to consult Narcissa and see if they could sue Fudge and the Ministry for stealing the Twins' intellectual property. Even if they didn't realize it, Fudge and the Ministry were ripping off the WWO.

It wasn't the same. Much more inelegant and primitive than the Twins' work. But Sirius had worked hard to secure discreet magical patents for the next generation of Marauders. He would be damned if the Ministry thought it could steal a march on them.

"And that's not all!" Fudge continued. "I have also raised the ultimate prize of the tournament! From one to two-… no, ten thousand Galleons!

"To be paid in Ministry-issued bonds…" Fudge sneakily added in a whisper that only the most attentive listeners caught.

"But enough dilly-dallying!" Fudge bowled over his own whisper before anyone else could realize his penny-pinching. "I think it's high time we get this task on the broom! Champions? To your marks! Ready! Go!"

"And they're off!" Ludo Bagman cried into his microphone, left in charge of the general commentary of the task.

With the scores as close as they were, the champions were all set to enter the maze at approximately the same time. Mere minutes separated them, with Fleur being the first to officially go. Heather followed her a minute later. Cedric and Victor followed after that.

Almost immediately, the champions split up, each taking a different path through the hedges. The views displayed by the illusion on the 'jumbotron' split up to follow each of them.

Cedric Diggory jogged through the maze. He didn't go fast enough to tire himself out, but not slow enough to sacrifice his chances at victory at the same time. In just a few minutes, he'd already conquered the first challenge the maze threw at him — a large swarm of Doxies — and was on to the next.

He ran around a corner and the ground suddenly gave out beneath his feet. Reality blurred, going hazy with a slight fog. The camera followed him, capturing everything as the scene around him shifted.

Cedric found himself sitting in a posh office, one that reminded him of his father's at the Ministry. As he looked around, trying to get his bearings, the door behind him swung open and a man entered.

"Good morning," The man greeted. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting but I'm afraid my walk has become rather sillier recently and so it takes rather long to get to places."

He hung his hat up on a rack. Cedric watched, perplexed as this strange, strange man pranced to sit at the desk in front of him. His leg went all the way around his body as he turned. He bounced and bobbled with each step. He lunged himself into motion. All in all, his walk was rather… silly.

The man sat down, throwing his legs up on his desk, and asked, "Now, what was it again?"

Cedric found himself speaking without meaning to, "W-Well, Sir, I have a silly walk. And I'd like to obtain a Ministry grant to help me develop it."

Outside the maze, the audience watched in disbelief as Cedric demonstrated his 'silly walk'. He walked with a jerking stutter to his steps. The other man in the room watched with considering nods as if he was seriously evaluating the 'silliness' of Cedric's walk.

Bagman was left uncharacteristically speechless, "I-… What's all this then…?"

Dumbledore chuckled, poking fun at Fudge, "Business as usual for the Ministry, isn't it, Cornelius?"

Fudge laughed awkwardly, "H-Haha… These traps must have a mind of their own… H-How ridiculous…"

Still, as the scene continued, some in the audience couldn't help but draw comparisons between this 'Ministry of Silly Walks' and the Ministry of Magic. Amos Diggory in particular couldn't help but laugh at the scathing parody of Ministry bureaucracy.

The scene around Cedric shifted again after a short while. Cedric found himself walking along and pulling a cart through a green field on an overcast day. The clops of what sounded like a horse could be heard approaching him from behind.

"Old woman!" Someone hailed.

"Man!" Cedric shot back.

"Man, sorry. What knight lives in that castle over there?"

The person who hailed Cedric trotted up beside him as he dragged his cart. Surprisingly, he wasn't on horseback. Instead, he was trotting as if he were an employee of the Ministry of Silly Walks while a squire followed behind, clapping together a pair of half-coconuts. The man also happened to look an awful lot like one Cornelius Fudge…

"I'm 19," Cedric didn't directly reply to Fudge's question.

"What?"

"I'm 19. I'm not old."

"Well, I can't just call you man."

"'Could say Cedric."

"I didn't know you were called Cedric."

"Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?"

"I did say sorry about the 'Old Woman' but from behind, you look-…"

"What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!"

"Well, I am Minister!"

"Oh, Minister, eh, very nice. And how d'you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers! By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society. If there's ever going to be any progress with the-…"

Outside the maze, the real Fudge sputtered. He never expected to have his likeness dragged into this strange vision-like trap! How was he supposed to deny things he said but didn't say!?

The audience was caught between uproarious laughter and bouts of consideration. Was this real life? Or was this fantasy? Either way, it made Fudge into a fool. As the sketch-like trap continued, parallels were drawn. It wasn't the exact same as reality. But Vision Cedric's message of bucking the oppressor came through anyway.

"-Listen. Strange toad women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony!" Cedric lectured.

Some in the audience nodded despite the parody of the scene. Fudge was sorely tempted to turn off the screen that showed Cedric. He knew he'd never get away with so obviously cutting the feed that showed one of the tournament's champions during a task though. Instead, he tried to deflect.

"Look!" Fudge shouted. "Victor Krum is facing a Boggart! How interesting! Much more interesting than some witless sketch!"

His attempt was heavy-handed but it did succeed in drawing the audience's attention away from Cedric's situation. Not long after, Cedric's screen was discreetly muted.

Victor Krum had been doing well in the maze up until this point. He kept his cool, cursing his way through various magical creatures and navigating tricky enchanted traps.

He even felled a Troll with a branch he transfigured into a hunting spear. Well, it felled itself with its own momentum as it charged straight onto the pointy end as Victor planted the opposite end of the spear in the ground for leverage.

Then he ran into the Boggart. It was a creature he'd encountered before. One he should have had no trouble with. But it seemed the form his Boggart took — his greatest fear — had changed with the tournament.

He saw his betrothed. He saw Anya, floating there as if underwater. Her normally perfect skin was pale and clammy. Her body was limp. Her eyes — usually so full of life and light that she only spared for him — were dead and cold. She… She looked so small. So delicate. So… lifeless…

Victor froze for a moment. Outside the maze, the audience gasped. Fudge winced, his deflection backfiring. He could only hope no one made the connection between the Boggart's floating state as if underwater and the original plan for the Second Task. Even if he wasn't involved with that plan, he knew he would bear the blame.

Karkaroff sprung to his feet, his wand already out. Victor's betrothed was his student too. Seeing her corpse like this… So suddenly… So lifelessly… He reacted without even thinking.

Fudge squawked, dropping to the floor as a curse flew over his head. Thankfully, Dumbledore stopped Karkaroff from throwing another at him.

It wasn't that he didn't sympathize with Karkaroff. He just had to remind his colleague — and himself — that this was a contest. And that a Boggart was something the champions should have reasonably expected. Still, his eyes twinkled dangerously in Fudge's direction…

Eventually, Victor recovered enough to cast the necessary spell, "R-Riddikulus…"

Despite his stuttering, Victor put all his power into the cast. The Boggart shifted and split into two figures — Bagman and Crouch in the female forms they took for the Second Task. The two gender-bent cheerleaders immediately struck up a dancing chant.

"We were wrong! We are idiots! Blame us! Blame us! Blame us and the Ministry! Give me a 'D'! Give me an 'A'! Give me a 'F'! Give me a 'T'! Give me a 'M-O-R-O-N-S'! Daft morons~!"

The Boggart swelled and swelled as it chanted. Before it could repeat its chant, it quite literally popped from the power Victor put into his spell. Once it was gone, Victor couldn't stop himself from slumping to the ground, more emotionally drained than magically.

A shuddering breath left his lungs. Seeing Anya like that… It was simply too much when he wasn't expecting it. He… He needed a moment.

As he sat there and tried to pull himself back together, a comforting warmth fell over him. A hand touched his shoulder. Victor looked up to find his competitor looking at him with sympathy in her eyes.

Fleur Delacour was the first champion in the maze. But she didn't make a beeline for the cup as the audience would have expected her to. Her inevitable loss still stung slightly. But it didn't matter. There were more important things to take care of.

Instead of going for the win, Fleur looped back around to the start of the maze and waited. She had a job to do. Heather ran past her. Fleur's job was to prevent the other two champions from reaching the cup before her coven sister.

Cedric fell into a trap rather quickly. Fleur was left to catch back up to Victor and follow him. She watched his entire encounter with the Boggart. She watched him collapse afterward.

To her, it was clear he was out of the competition for the moment. But she couldn't leave him like this. Her Allure burned. Not with lust or desire. But with a different kind of passion. As a Veela, Fleur was uniquely suited to sharing her compassion with others.

And so she sat by Victor. Her Allure soothed his frayed nerves with compassion and empathy. She was a shoulder to lean on for him. One he desperately needed at the moment.

With three champions seemingly out of the competition, the audience naturally turned its attention to the last one remaining. They were just in time to watch Heather Potter down a Chimaera with a Stunning Spell. The awesome feat of magical power left many reeling. They didn't see the tense battle that proceeded it.

Heather blew on the end of her wand like a smoking gun. Her infamy and power were firmly cemented in the audience's minds. This was the Girl-Who-Lived. And she was here to win.

They watched as she waltzed, strolled — strutted, really — up to the Triwizard Cup. Then she seemed to look directly into the invisible 'camera' watching her.

Heather grinned, "Showtime."

She took hold of the cup and disappeared with the telltale swirl of a portkey. The audience waited for her to appear in front of the maze with bated breath. She never did…

"M-My word…" Bagman muttered into his microphone, as stunned and speechless as everyone else watching. "It… It seems we have a winner! But where'd she go? Wasn't she supposed to portkey right back here? And what'd she mean by 'showtime'…?"

As the audience tried to figure out what went wrong, a new thread was created on the WWO. One simply titled 'The End…'. It was pushed to the top of the students' pages, whether they joined it or not. And it was broadcasting something…

Fred and George Weasley hadn't been brought in on the coven's full plan. But they had been briefed on this part of it. And they had roles to play here. They quickly ran down from the stands to the 'jumbotron'. With Sirius' help and some quick spellwork, they patched the feed from WWO into the big screens.

The first thing the task's audience heard was a raspy, tortured voice like nails on a chalkboard, "Take the girl. Hurry…"