Chapter 267: Chapter 267: "Into The Maze"
The crowd leaned forward as Harry stepped into the maze, his silhouette clear in the magical mirrors floating above the Quidditch pitch. The enchanted displays tracked his every move with eerie precision, giving the audience a front-row seat to the unfolding drama. The tension in the stadium was almost tangible—everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
"And he's off!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed across the stadium, crackling with excitement. "Hadrian Potter enters the maze with his usual calm! Look at him move, folks—like he's taking a casual stroll rather than entering a dangerous magical labyrinth!"
Harry's calm "Lumos" illuminated his path, and his steady pace drew murmurs of admiration from the stands. The golden light from his wand cast long shadows, emphasizing the dark and mysterious nature of the hedge-lined maze.
"Harry's not scared at all! And it's so dark in there," Aries marveled, bouncing in his seat. His wide eyes reflected the lights from the magical mirrors as he watched Harry's progress, his gaze intense and unwavering. Sirius, seated beside him, watched with trained eyes, noticing details others missed—the relaxed grip on Harry's wand, the way his gaze methodically scanned his surroundings.
Through the mirrors, the crowd saw Harry slip his hand into his pocket. "What's this?" Bagman's voice rose with feigned suspense. "Our champion seems to have found something! A clue, perhaps? Though I don't recall placing any…"
The audience held its breath as Harry unfolded a piece of parchment. His expression changed instantly, the calm demeanor replaced by something darker. Even those unfamiliar with Harry noticed the shift—his posture stiffened, and tension coiled in his shoulders like a spring.
Sirius straightened in his seat, his casual demeanor vanishing. "Something's wrong," he muttered to Amelia, his eyes narrowing in concern. "Look at his face."
Indeed, Harry's features had hardened into a mask of cold determination. The mirrors flickered slightly, as if reacting to the surge of barely-contained magic radiating off him. His jaw clenched, and his eyes, once calm and focused, were now sharp and filled with purpose.
"Mon Dieu," Apolline Delacour whispered, her hand over her heart. "What has upset him so?" Her eyes darted between the mirrors and her daughter, who was waiting to enter the maze, concern clear on her face.
A murmur rippled through the crowd as the excitement gave way to unease. The change in Harry's demeanor had not gone unnoticed, and it left a weight hanging over the spectators—a sense that something far more serious was happening.
"Well, well!" Bagman continued, seemingly oblivious to the shift. "Mr. Potter seems to have found something intriguing! Was it a clue or a clever trick by one of his fellow champions? We couldn't see what it said, but I suppose we'll find out soon enough!"
The tension broke as Harry started moving again, but this time with an urgency that hadn't been there before. His footsteps were quicker, his eyes darting to the shadows of the hedges as if searching for something—or someone.
Bagman's voice rang out with a touch of confusion. "And now… wait, what's he doing?"
The audience watched as Harry approached one of the towering hedges, resting his hand against its dark foliage.
"What's he playing at?" someone in the crowd whispered.
The answer came moments later as Harry began climbing the hedge. Startled laughter and murmurs of disbelief rippled through the stands.
"Would you look at that!" Bagman's voice was gleeful. "Mr. Potter trying to climb over the maze! It looks like he's eager to finish the task quickly—taking a shortcut! A novel approach, though I dare say the hedges won't appreciate it!"
As if on cue, the hedge came alive, its branches lashing out like angry snakes, forcing Harry back to the ground. Frustration flashed across Harry's face—he was in a hurry to finish the task before Fleur entered. He needed to keep an eye on her and neutralize the impostor Moody lurking somewhere. The hedge, however, wasn't cooperating. For a brief moment, he thought about summoning his sword and cutting the foliage to pieces.
But using excessive magic was not an option—not when he needed to conserve his strength for the battles ahead. Climbing over the maze was still his best shot at saving time, and he wasn't ready to give up.
Harry crouched and jumped, using the lashing branches as a boost to reach the top of the hedge.
"Merlin's beard!" Professor McGonagall gasped, her hand at her chest. "Such agility!"
From his vantage point atop the hedge, Harry could see the entire maze sprawling before him. He was just about to run along the hedge's edge when the enchanted foliage surged once more, tendrils twisting and grabbing at his legs, trying to pull him back down. Though the vines weren't hurting him, their determination to stop him was unmistakable.
"Extraordinary!" Bagman bellowed. "Mr. Potter demonstrating remarkable athleticism! But it seems the maze is intent on keeping our champion on its designated path!"
Sirius chuckled despite his growing concern. "That's my godson," he muttered proudly. "Always finding another way. First time I've seen his plans fail, though—it's almost funny."
Harry, realizing he was wasting precious time battling sentient hedges, jumped back to the ground. The parchment had clearly thrown him off balance, leaving him with scattered plans and bad ideas. Summoning his broom was out of the question—the hedges would block him. Burning them away would consume too much magic, and he couldn't afford to be drained before facing Voldemort. He felt cornered, unable to think clearly. There was one good option left, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to reveal it right now.
The mirrors captured him pausing, eyes narrowing as he considered his options. His gaze flickered skyward, a calculating look crossing his face. Sirius saw it and recognized the thought forming in Harry's mind.
"He's thinking of flying," Sirius murmured to Amelia, his eyes filled with understanding.
"But he won't," Amelia responded, her voice tense. "It'd raise too many questions."
Before Harry could decide, a bell echoed across the stadium. "And now, it's time for our second champion to enter!" Bagman's voice announced cheerily. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"
Fleur stood poised at the maze entrance, her silver hair glimmering in the fading light. "Bonne chance, ma fille!" Monsieur Delacour called out, his voice carrying a mix of pride and concern as the crowd applauded.
Inside the maze, Harry stiffened. They were sending Fleur in already? It had barely been a few minutes since he'd entered. His plan to finish the task and end this before things got risky was slipping through his fingers.
He shifted his priorities. Now, he had to find Fleur or intercept the impostor before anything happened. Protect Fleur or eliminate the threat—that was the mission now.
"And Mr. Potter is on the move again!" Bagman called out, trying to inject excitement. "Seems he's decided to stick to the traditional way of navigating a maze after all!"
"Something's definitely wrong," Sirius murmured, his eyes narrowing. Every line of Harry's body radiated danger, and years of watching his godson had taught him to recognize when things were about to go south.
In the maze, Harry moved with renewed determination, every step precise and calculated. Unbeknownst to the crowd, this was no longer a tournament task. It was a race against time, against a trap closing in from all sides.
Chapter 268: Chapter 268: "Dark Turns in the Maze"
Inside the maze, Harry moved with purposeful speed, his senses sharp and his wand ready. The hedges loomed high on all sides, their dark leaves rustling ominously. Harry's steps were silent, but his pace was quick. He couldn't afford to waste time. He had to complete his side tasks: making sure Fleur was safe and dealing with the fake Moody before Charles got to the cup and portkeyed away to the graveyard. One of his plans for the day was to portkey along with Charles to ensure his safety while dealing with Voldemort's resurrection attempt.
The maze seemed almost alive, shifting its paths and throwing dangers in his way. Harry heard skittering ahead and knew something large was approaching. The ground trembled slightly beneath his feet, a sign of something big.
Suddenly, an enormous Acromantula emerged from the shadows, its eight eyes gleaming menacingly. Without hesitation, Harry flicked his wand and slashed through the air. The cutting curse cleaved through the creature's thick, chitinous shell in a single, fluid motion. The Acromantula let out a hideous screech before collapsing in a twitching heap, its legs curling inward as it died.
The mirrors above broadcast the scene to the audience, who gasped in awe.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Bagman's voice came, tinged with shock, "that was a fully grown Acromantula, dispatched with a single spell! Extraordinary skill from Mr. Potter!"
Bagman's enthusiastic commentary, audible only to the audience, created ripples of excitement in the stands. The champions, however, were isolated within the maze, their focus undisturbed by the ongoing narration.
Harry pressed on, his eyes scanning every shadow. He rounded a corner, only to come face-to-face with another obstacle—a towering Blast-Ended Skrewt. It turned its scorpion-like tail towards him, and Harry barely managed to dodge as it let loose a burst of fiery gas.
"Not today," Harry muttered, his voice calm as he narrowed his eyes. He raised his wand and, with a powerful swish, unleashed a Blasting Curse. The force of the spell sent the Skrewt hurtling backward through the air, crashing into the hedge with a bone-rattling thud.
"Potter continues to display remarkable power and precision!" Bagman shouted with growing excitement, his voice carrying across the stadium.
Harry didn't pause to admire his handiwork. He continued down the twisting path, alert for any sound or movement. The maze seemed determined to throw every trick it had at him, testing his reflexes and resolve.
A few passages later, he felt the air around him chill and instinctively gripped his wand tighter. A thick mist rolled in, and Harry recognized the enchantment—a golden mist meant to disorient and confuse. He took a deep breath and traced a series of intricate runes in the air with his wand, muttering a complex incantation under his breath. The mist shivered and then dispersed as if being blown away by an invisible wind.
"Exceptional spellwork from Mr. Potter!" McGonagall's voice carried over the crowd, her admiration evident. The audience reacted with appreciative murmurs.
Harry forged ahead, his pace unbroken. He was nearing another junction when he heard a soft whispering sound, like something trying to speak. He stopped and looked around, only to see a shadow shifting unnaturally. A Boggart.
It began to change, attempting to latch onto his deepest fear. But before it could fully transform, Harry was ready.
"Riddikulus!" he intoned firmly. The Boggart exploded into a shower of harmless sparks, its attempt to unsettle him crushed by Harry's powerful spell. He didn't think it was wise to show his deepest fear to an audience. No need for everyone to know his weak spots.
"And there goes another obstacle!" Bagman exclaimed to the audience. "Mr. Potter doesn't even allow the Boggart to take form! Such control!"
As Harry kept searching for Fleur or Moody, he faced more and more obstacles. The maze seemed nothing like what he remembered from the books or the movies. The difficulty was high, and although Harry could handle each challenge, they succeeded in wasting his time. During this time, both Charles and Krum had also entered the maze one after the other, and the clock was ticking. Harry needed to finish his side tasks quickly.
---
Elsewhere in the maze, Fleur Delacour was moving gracefully through the dark passages, her wand held high. She had already faced several challenges, dispatching them with finesse and efficiency. A Boggart had been easily vanquished with a flick of her wand, and she had navigated a pit of writhing Devil's Snare without hesitation.
As she rounded a corner, Fleur came to an abrupt stop. There, standing a few yards away, was Viktor Krum. He was staring at her with an expression that seemed strangely blank, his eyes devoid of the focus that usually characterized him. She relaxed slightly, ready to exchange a nod or a quick word before they continued separately.
But something was off. Krum wasn't moving away or acknowledging her presence. Instead, his grip on his wand tightened, and without warning, he raised it and fired a curse directly at her.
Fleur barely had time to react. She raised a shield just in time to deflect the hex, but the impact forced her back a step. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at Krum. "Qu'est-ce que tu fais?!" she demanded, but he didn't respond. He only moved forward, his wand trained on her.
The duel began in earnest. Krum's spells were aggressive, precise, and relentless. He attacked with a mechanical efficiency, his face a blank mask as he fired curse after curse at Fleur. She deflected his spells with a series of elegant, practiced movements, her training evident in every motion.
The crowd was riveted to the magical displays. Bagman's voice rang out with confusion, audible only to the audience. "What in Merlin's name? Ladies and gentlemen, it appears Mr. Krum is… attacking Miss Delacour!"
Fleur defended herself with admirable skill, conjuring barriers and redirecting spells. She tried to reason with him, shouting, "Viktor, arrête!" But he showed no sign of recognition, his attacks becoming fiercer with every passing second.
"C'est impossible!" Madame Maxime stood up in the stands, her massive form towering over those around her. "Stop this at once!"
The crowd watched in mounting horror as Fleur's defensive stance began to waver. She was holding back, clearly unwilling to use more powerful curses that could seriously injure Krum.
But it was costing her dearly. Krum's spells were coming harder and faster, forcing Fleur to backpedal and regroup.
"Come on, sister!" Gabrielle's small voice echoed anxiously from the stands.
Krum launched a Blasting Curse that shattered part of Fleur's shield, forcing her to dive aside. She retaliated with a series of quick Stunners, but Krum deflected them effortlessly, his eyes cold and vacant. The duel had become a relentless exchange of spellwork, each champion pushing the other to their limits.
In the stands, Sirius muttered, "This isn't right. Something's got him—he's not himself."
Krum advanced again, forcing Fleur into a corner. Her determination was evident, but the strain was showing in her eyes and movements. She prepared herself for one final push, ready to unleash a stronger curse if necessary, despite the consequences.
---
Before Fleur could make her move, Harry burst onto the scene. He appeared with a suddenness that caught both the audience and the duelists by surprise. A cheer erupted from the stands, audible only to the crowd, as Harry entered with unwavering focus.
Without hesitation, he fired a precise Stunning Spell that hit Krum square in the back. The Bulgarian champion crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Incredible intervention by Mr. Potter!" Bagman shouted. "Perfect timing as always!"
Harry rushed to Fleur's side. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.
"Oui," Fleur replied, her breathing slightly labored but steady.
Harry turned his attention to Krum. His wand moved in a series of complex patterns, casting diagnostic spells that confirmed his suspicion.
"He's been Imperiused," Harry's voice carried clearly through the magical displays. "This wasn't him—someone's interfering with the tournament."
The revelation sent shockwaves through the stadium. In the judges' box, Karkaroff shot to his feet, his face a mask of rage. Dumbledore's usual twinkle was gone, replaced by grave concern.
"The task must be stopped!" Amelia Bones in the stands insisted, but Bagman, after conferring quickly with the judges, shook his head.
"The magic binding the tournament won't allow it," he announced, his usual cheer subdued. "The champions must continue."
Back in the maze, Harry and Fleur exchanged a look of mutual understanding. "We stick together from here," Harry said firmly. "Someone's playing a bigger game, and we need to watch each other's backs."
Fleur nodded, her face set with determination. Together, they sent up red sparks to mark Krum's location, then set off deeper into the maze. Harry's next goal was to find Charles and reach the cup. The fake Moody was no longer the priority now that Fleur was safe.
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