Chapter 265: Chapter 265: "Before the Maze"
The early summer afternoon sun bathed the Hogwarts grounds in golden light, casting long shadows across the castle lawns. Harry found himself surrounded by the warmth of family, enjoying a rare moment of peace before the evening's challenge. The Black and Delacour families had gathered near the lake, creating a private spot with conjured blankets spread across the grass. The gentle sound of the lake's waters lapping at the shore provided a calming background to their gathering.
The dangers of the upcoming third task seemed momentarily forgotten as laughter and joy filled the air. Aries and Gabrielle, fast friends despite their language barrier, darted around the lake's edge, their youthful energy infectious. They paused occasionally to peer into the lake's depths, hoping to catch a glimpse of the giant squid. Their excited squeals echoed across the water whenever a tentacle broke the surface.
Harry watched them with a content smile, finding their innocent enthusiasm more calming than any potion could be. In these precious moments, thoughts of the tournament and Voldemort's resurrection seemed distant and unimportant.
"Papa!" Gabrielle called out suddenly, running back to the group with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. "Can Harry show us some magic? S'il te plaît?"
Monsieur Delacour chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I don't think we should tire out our champion before his big task, ma petite. He needs to save his strength."
"Oh, I don't mind," Harry said warmly, drawing his wand with a flourish. With precise movements born of years of practice, he conjured a flock of tiny, glowing butterflies that danced through the air, leaving trails of sparkling light in their wake. The children's delighted gasps made the simple display worthwhile, their faces lighting up with wonder as the magical creatures swirled around them.
The afternoon passed in a pleasant blur of conversation, laughter, and impromptu magic demonstrations. Harry found himself truly relaxing for the first time in weeks, surrounded by people who loved him for who he was, not just for what he could do. As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, the group made their way back to the castle for the evening feast.
The Great Hall was already buzzing with excitement, its usual grandeur enhanced by the presence of visiting dignitaries and ministry officials.
"Look who's graced us with his presence," Sirius muttered under his breath, nodding towards the staff table where Minister Fudge had taken a seat, looking self-important in his pinstriped robes and lime-green bowler hat.
As they settled at their respective tables, Sirius cast a subtle privacy charm around himself and Harry, the ambient noise of the hall fading to a muffled hum. His expression grew serious, the playful demeanor from the afternoon replaced by genuine concern.
"Harry, there's something you should know," he began, his voice low despite the charm. "Things have been... strange at the Ministry lately. First Bertha Jorkins vanishes without a trace in Albania, and now Crouch..."
Harry's head snapped up, instantly alert. "What about Crouch?"
"He's gone missing," Sirius replied grimly, his grey eyes dark with worry. "About a month ago. Fudge has been keeping it quiet—you know how he is about public image. With Jorkins already missing and that mess at the World Cup, they're desperate to avoid causing panic. But something's not right about it all."
Harry felt his stomach drop, a cold sensation spreading through his chest. If Crouch Sr. was missing, then where was Junior? The impostor who was crucial to Voldemort's resurrection plans... Harry's mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. Not knowing Junior's location or current disguise complicated everything. Without this crucial piece of information, Harry had no way of knowing how Junior would get to Charles or how he would transport him to Voldemort.
Without Crouch's disguise, there seemed no obvious way for Junior to tamper with the cup's portkey, leaving endless possibilities for how Charles might be taken from Hogwarts to Little Hangleton for the ceremony. The carefully laid plans Harry had made based on his foreknowledge suddenly seemed inadequate.
"There's more," Sirius continued, unaware of Harry's internal turmoil. "Word from Azkaban is that the Death Eaters are restless. They're saying their Dark Marks are getting stronger, that their Lord is coming back. What do you make of it?"
Harry chose his words carefully. "I've had suspicions that something's not right with this tournament. Charles being entered, the dragon breaking loose... it feels orchestrated. But I can't be certain."
"Be careful tonight, Harry," Sirius warned, his grey eyes intense with concern. "I've got a bad feeling about this task." He paused, then added, "Speaking of bad feelings... did you notice anything odd about Mad-Eye at school? When I spoke to him before the feast, something felt... off. Can't put my finger on it, but something wasn't quite right."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. Could the timeline be correcting itself? Had Junior somehow managed to take Moody's place despite the changes? With practiced casualness, he pulled out the Marauder's Map, activating it under the table while keeping his expression neutral.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, scanning the map for Moody's location. The dot labeled 'Alastor Moody' simply sat at the staff table, nothing apparently amiss.
Sirius peered at the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Well, everything looks normal. Maybe I'm just jumpy with everything that's been happening. The map doesn't lie, after all. It's never wrong about these things."
"Can it be fooled?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Hidden from, yes," Sirius replied thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "But showing a false name? Never heard of it being done. And Moody's resistance to the Imperius Curse is legendary—no one's ever managed to control him. No, this must be the real Moody. I'm probably just being paranoid."
At the staff table, the subject of their discussion was watching them intently through his magical eye. Barty Crouch Jr. suppressed a triumphant smile. The stone Voldemort had enchanted and the real Moody in a trunk in his pocket was doing the job perfectly, fooling even the notorious Marauder's Map. His earlier slip with Black had been concerning, but it seemed their precautions had paid off.
As the feast drew to a close, Dumbledore rose from his seat, his silver beard gleaming in the candlelight as his voice carried across the now-silent hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."
Harry rose from his seat, immediately surrounded by well-wishers and family. Sirius pulled him into a tight hug, his voice rough with emotion. "Show them what you're made of, pup. We're all proud of you, no matter what happens."
Aries tugged at Harry's robes, his small face serious as he looked up at his godfather. "You'll win for sure, Harry! You're the best wizard ever!"
Fleur appeared at his side, her presence calming and familiar. Together, they made their way towards Bagman and the other champions, exchanging quiet words of encouragement. The four champions shared knowing looks, each understanding the gravity of what lay ahead.
"Good luck, everyone," Harry said softly as they walked. "Whatever happens in there, let's make sure we all come out safely."
Krum nodded solemnly, while Charles managed a weak smile.
As they walked through the Great Hall towards their destiny, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into something far more dangerous than what he had planned for. The variables had changed, and he needed to be more careful than ever to ensure Charles and the others got out of this safely. The fact that Charles didn't have the brother wand to Voldemort's meant he would never survive a direct confrontation in the graveyard without Harry's intervention.
Looking around at his fellow champions, each lost in their own thoughts as they followed Bagman towards the stadium, Harry silently prayed his preparations for the night would be enough. The maze loomed ahead, its dark hedges a stark reminder that sometimes the greatest dangers lie not in what we can see, but in what remains hidden until it's too late.
Chapter 266: Chapter 266: "The Third Task Begins"
The champions walked onto the Quidditch field, though calling it that now seemed almost inappropriate. The once-familiar pitch had been transformed beyond recognition. Towering twenty-foot-high hedges, dense and dark, ran all around the edge, their leaves rustling ominously in the evening breeze that carried a chill hint of the night to come.
In front of them was the entrance to the vast maze, the passage beyond it dark and foreboding, like the open mouth of some colossal beast waiting to swallow them whole. Torches flickered around the stadium, casting long shadows that danced on the hedges, making them seem alive.
Charles let out a low whistle, his eyes wide as he looked at the maze. "Well, that's... intimidating," he said, trying to grin, but it ended up more like a grimace. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of his robes, showing just how uneasy he was."
It looks alive," Fleur said, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness as she watched the hedges sway slightly, even though there was no wind. "I do not like how it moves when there is no wind," she added softly in French, a slight tremor in her tone.
Viktor Krum simply grunted, but his usual stoic expression showed a hint of wary respect. He scanned the maze's walls as if looking for weaknesses or hidden dangers.
Harry, however, wasn't focused on the maze itself. Instead, he looked up at what floated above it—massive mirrors suspended in the darkening sky, positioned at precise angles like silent guardians. Though dark for now, their purpose was obvious. The organizers had responded to complaints about the second task's lack of visibility for spectators, and now everyone would be able to see what was happening inside the maze. This was definitely different from what Harry remembered from the books.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Bagman's cheerful voice broke through Harry's thoughts. The former Quidditch player beamed with enthusiasm, his round face flushed with excitement. "After the concerns about the last task, the organizers put their heads together to come up with this. Now everyone can watch your progress through the maze!" He gestured towards the mirrors. "Quite the spectacle, wouldn't you agree? Of course, you champions won't be able to see anything in the mirrors—we've charmed them that way. Wouldn't want to make it too easy, would we?"
Harry nodded absently, his mind already running through his strategy. Get to the cup quickly, end the task, and then track Charles. Simple and efficient. With his skills and power, he knew he could reach the cup far ahead of the others. Then he could focus on protecting Charles from whatever scheme was in motion.
In the stands above, excited chatter filled the air as students and visitors gathered, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. The Black and Delacour families had prime seats, with Aries practically bouncing between Sirius and Amelia.
"Can you see the mirrors, Papa?" Aries asked eagerly, his eyes shining with excitement. "Will we be able to see everything Harry does?" He leaned forward, gripping the railing with his small hands.
"That's the idea, pup," Sirius replied, ruffling Aries's hair, though his eyes held a hint of worry as they fixed on Harry below. The usual twinkle in his eyes was dimmed by concern. "Keep a sharp eye out—you might learn a thing or two."
Nearby, the Potters had taken their seats, James and Lily exchanging nervous glances as they watched their sons prepare for the task. Lily clutched a handkerchief tightly in her hands, her knuckles white. "They'll be fine," James whispered, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Our boys are strong."
"I know," Lily replied softly, her eyes never leaving Harry and Charles. "I just can't help worrying."
The fragile peace reached earlier in the day allowed the two families to share the same section without obvious discomfort. It was an uneasy truce, but it held for now.
Gabrielle, sitting with her parents, was chattering rapidly in French about how Harry would surely win, while her mother tried to remind her to support her sister as well. The young girl's enthusiasm was infectious, drawing smiles from those around her despite the growing tension.
On the field, Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick approached Bagman and the champions. They wore large, red, glowing stars on their hats, which shone brightly as the light dimmed. Hagrid's massive form towered over the others, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and concern.
"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," Professor McGonagall explained, her tone brisk but carrying an undercurrent of concern. "If you get into difficulty and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you. Do you understand?"
The champions nodded, each processing the information in their own way. Fleur took a deep breath, bracing herself. Viktor gave a curt nod, his face unreadable. Charles swallowed hard but stood straighter, determination in his eyes.
As the patrollers moved to their positions, Harry felt something slip into his pocket—a subtle movement so smooth he almost missed it. He kept his face neutral, even as his mind raced to figure out what had happened. Only Moody had been close enough, and only he had the skill and intent to slip something into Harry's pocket unnoticed. It looked like Sirius's suspicions were right. There was something wrong with Moody, even if the Marauder's Map had shown nothing strange.
"Good luck, Charles," Hagrid whispered as he passed, though his booming voice made sure everyone heard him. The patrollers split up, heading to their assigned positions around the maze.
Bagman raised his wand to his throat. "Sonorus!" His magnified voice echoed across the stadium, capturing the crowd's attention instantly. "Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand!"
"In first place with ninety-six points—Mr. Hadrian Potter of Hogwarts!" The cheers were deafening, birds scattering from the Forbidden Forest at the noise. Harry could hear Aries's excited shouts even over the general applause.
"In the second place, with eighty-five points—Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy!" More cheers erupted, the Delacours beaming with pride.
"In third place with sixty-eight points—Mr. Charles Potter of Hogwarts! And in fourth place—Mr. Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute!"
"So... on my whistle, Mr. Potter!" Bagman announced, practically bouncing with excitement. The crowd hushed in anticipation. "Three—two—one—"
The whistle pierced the air, sharp and clear, and Harry stepped into the maze, moving calmly and confidently. As he crossed the threshold, the crowd's noise faded abruptly, as if someone had turned a dial to mute. The towering hedges cast deep shadows across his path, and the only sounds were the rustling leaves and the soft crunch of his footsteps on the grassy path.
"Lumos," Harry murmured, raising his wand. The light from the wand lit up the place showing Harry the path forward.
The hedges behind him began to shift, sealing off the entrance with a soft rustling that sent a shiver down his spine. Harry's eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. It seemed this maze would combine the worst aspects of both versions of the world he remembered from the books and movies—moving hedges and numerous obstacles. A challenging combination, but nothing he couldn't handle.
Or so he thought, until he remembered the object slipped into his pocket.
Pausing in his advance, Harry retrieved the piece of parchment, unfolding it carefully. As he read the hastily scrawled message, anger began to build inside him like a wildfire threatening to burn out of control. The note was clear—reach the cup first, and Fleur would not survive the maze.
Harry's first reaction was pure rage. His grip on his wand tightened until his knuckles were white. This had to be Barty Crouch Jr.'s doing. Despite the Marauder's Map showing nothing unusual, despite all the precautions, somehow the Death Eater had infiltrated Hogwarts as Moody. The magical eye, the slight oddness Sirius had noticed, the perfectly timed sleight of hand with the note—it all pointed to one conclusion: Moody was an impostor.
His plans crumbled. He couldn't risk Fleur's safety, no matter how much he wanted to end this quickly. The original strategy—reach the cup, win the tournament, then protect Charles—was no longer possible. He needed to find Fleur first, make sure she was safe, and then they could continue together.
If Junior really dared to put her in danger... Harry's magic swirled around him, responding to his fury. He would make the Death Eater regret ever threatening her.
Looking up at the dark path ahead, Harry took a deep breath, centering himself. The maze had only just begun, and already the game had changed. But Harry Potter hadn't survived everything life had thrown at him by giving up when plans went awry.
Time to adapt. Time to protect. Time to show Junior exactly why threatening Harry's loved ones was a fatal mistake.
With renewed purpose, Harry strode deeper into the maze, the wandlight illuminating his path as the shadows seemed to close in behind him. Above, the mirrors began to glow, revealing his progress to the watching crowd, while in his mind, new plans began to form.
The third task had begun, but not in any way Harry had anticipated. As he disappeared around a corner, the hedges shifted again, and the real challenge began.
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