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.
Chapter 269: Chapter 269: "A Race Against Time"
With Fleur by his side, Harry felt his nerves finally settle. His mind started to clear, and his instincts kicked into gear now that the immediate danger to Fleur had passed. They had only minutes before Charles reached the cup, and they needed to act fast.
"Right," Harry muttered, turning to Fleur. "Something sinister is going on, and we need to either catch up with Charles or finish the task so the rules break, and others can intervene to find the culprit."
Fleur nodded, her wand still at the ready as her eyes scanned their surroundings. "What do you propose?"
Harry's eyes lit up as an idea struck him. He quickly traced a series of complex wand movements in the air, and within moments, a tall cylindrical object sprouted from the ground and extended above the hedges. The contraption was topped with angled mirrors, and the audience watched in fascination as the magical construct gleamed in the dim maze light.
"What is zat?" Fleur asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"A periscope," Harry explained quickly, as if it were obvious. "It's a Muggle invention that lets you see over things you normally can't. Works similar to the mirrors above us right now. Thought it might be useful here."
"Ah," Fleur murmured, intrigued but not fully understanding. She watched as Harry adjusted the mirrors with a few more flicks of his wand and then peered into the device.
The audience was riveted, their murmuring growing louder as Bagman, barely understanding what Harry had created, tried to explain to the crowd. "Our young Mr. Potter has conjured up a… well, I'm not quite sure, but it seems to let him see above the maze! Ingenious thinking!"
Harry scanned the maze through the periscope, sweeping it side to side. The device gave him a bird's-eye view of the labyrinth, revealing all the paths and obstacles. He also quickly found the targets he was looking for—the Triwizard Cup and a moving figure: Charles.
"Found them," Harry whispered. "The cup is just ahead, and… Charles is on a good path. If we don't hurry, he'll reach it first."
Fleur's expression tightened with determination. "Zen let us move."
They set off at a brisk pace, Harry leading the way as he mentally mapped out the quickest route from what he had seen. They worked seamlessly in unison, their combined skill cutting through the maze's obstacles with efficiency. A swarm of dangerous insects descended upon them, only to be driven away by Fleur's expertly cast fire spell. A Blast-Ended Skrewt blocking their path was dispatched by Harry in seconds.
The audience watched in awe, held in suspense as obstacle after obstacle fell before the pair's combined strength. The mirrors above them captured every moment, and the crowd's excitement grew as they witnessed the champions' unwavering teamwork.
---
As they rounded the last corner, their destination almost in sight, Harry's instincts screamed a warning. He quickly cast a strong gust of wind down the path ahead of them, and to Fleur's surprise, the spell tore away an invisibility cloak revealing a grizzled man with mismatched eyes and a sneer—Barty Crouch Jr., masquerading as Mad-Eye Moody.
"Moody? No! You can't be Moody. He wouldn't interfere in the tournament." Harry declared, narrowing his eyes. "Who are you? Are you the one who sent me the threat and Imperiused Krum?"
"Well, well, Potter," Crouch Jr. sneered, his voice dripping with false amusement. "I wasn't planning to show myself so soon, but for my Lord's plan to succeed, it seems I'll have to sacrifice myself to stop you."
The magical mirrors captured the scene, and the audience murmured in confusion and alarm. Bagman's voice faltered as he tried to maintain his enthusiasm. "It seems Mr. Potter has… come across another challenge? Is that Professor Moody?"
Harry played along, acting confused. "Your Lord? What does your lord want with Charles?"
Crouch let out a low chuckle. "Oh, Potter, always so clever, but not clever enough. You won't get anything out of me. My job is just to delay you. Let's see if you're as good at dueling as they say."
"Just you?" Harry scoffed. "If you were the real Moody, maybe you could stall me. But you? I don't think so."
With that, the duel erupted. Harry began with full force, focusing on speed rather than power, knowing he had to conserve strength for what was to come. His spells struck rapidly, pushing Crouch into a frantic defensive stance. Fleur joined in, launching her own attacks to support Harry's assault.
Crouch's grin quickly vanished as he found himself fending off a barrage of coordinated spells. The magical mirrors displayed every movement to the audience, the intensity of the duel rippling through the stands. Gasps and shouts echoed as spells ricocheted off the maze walls.
Crouch relied heavily on the magical eye he had stolen, using it to deflect Harry and Fleur's spells. But despite his efforts, he couldn't keep up with their relentless assault. His defenses crumbled under their combined attacks, and with a final "Petrificus Totalus!" from Harry, Crouch fell to the ground, paralyzed.
The duel had barely lasted a minute. The crowd above let out a collective sigh of relief, their anxiety momentarily lifted.
Harry strode over to Crouch's paralyzed form, pulling a familiar flask from the imposter's pocket and throwing it aside. "Polyjuice Potion," he muttered, disgust evident in his voice.
Harry guessed that Moody must be with Crouch Junior somehow since that was the only way Crouch could have fooled the Marauder's Map. He patted down Crouch's other pockets, his fingers closing around a small trunk.
Enlarging it with a flick of his wand, Harry opened the trunk to reveal the sound of someone struggling inside.
"Let me out!" came the muffled voice of the real Mad-Eye Moody.
The audience gasped in horror as the mirrors revealed the trunk's contents. Bagman's voice faltered as he tried to make sense of the scene. "Well, that was an eventful few minutes, and I cannot process what has happened. Hopefully, our judges will take over from here. It appears our champion has… discovered something rather concerning…"
---
Harry knew he had to chase after Charles immediately, but he also needed to make sure Crouch couldn't escape or harm anyone else. In a moment of inspired punishment, he cast a few well-placed spells—an itching charm and a tickling charm.
"That should keep you busy," Harry muttered darkly, recalling Crouch's earlier threats against Fleur. Who said only dark spells could be used for torture? Light spells, when used in creative ways, could do just as much harm.
Turning to Fleur, Harry said, "We need to stop Charles—he's walking into a trap."
Fleur nodded and readied herself. "Zen let us hurry."
---
Harry's heart pounded as he raced through the maze, his surroundings blurring into shadows and greenery. He hoped Charles had not taken the cup already and portkeyed away. That would complicate his plans.
As Harry and Fleur rounded the last corner, the straight path to the cup became visible. The Triwizard Cup was there, shining just a few meters ahead. But they weren't alone. Charles was just feet away from the cup in front of them.
Seeing Harry and Fleur, Charles quickened his pace, his eyes locked on the cup.
"Charles, stop!" Harry shouted, "It's a trap—"
But whether Charles didn't hear him or chose to ignore the warning in his eagerness to win, he reached out and grabbed the cup.
Instantly, the world seemed to twist, and with a rush of wind, Charles vanished, whisked away by the cup-turned-portkey.
Harry and Fleur skidded to a halt, reaching the spot just seconds too late. They stood in front of the empty pedestal where the Triwizard Cup had been.
In the stands, the audience was frozen in stunned silence, the mirrors reflecting only an empty space where the cup once sat. Charles had disappeared, and unlike what the organizers had announced, he did not magically appear in front of them.
Charles Potter was gone.
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