章 270: Chapter 270: "The Vanishing Champion"
The world spun and twisted violently as Charles felt the pull of the portkey. His feet slammed into solid ground with a harsh thud, and he stumbled, barely managing to stay upright. The Triwizard Cup slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the hard earth beside him. Dazed, Charles blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Where—" he started, his voice sounding strange in the heavy, oppressive silence.
The air was thick, almost suffocating, as a chilling fog spread across the ground, swirling around his feet like ghostly tendrils. He was surrounded by ancient gravestones, cracked and covered in moss, and the gnarled branches of dead trees cast eerie shadows under the pale moonlight. The cold, damp smell of decay filled the air. There was no sign of the maze, the cheering crowd, or anything familiar. He was completely alone.
"Hello?" he called out, the uncertainty clear in his voice. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Was this some hidden part of the final task? Was this an illusion or a test that he had to overcome to win? His mind spun with questions, but there were no answers, and the silence around him was unsettling.
The quiet seemed to press in on him, amplifying the sound of his own breathing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him. Something wasn't right—it was all wrong.
Charles fumbled for his wand, his fingers trembling as he wrapped them around the familiar wood. He tried to steady his breathing, to think clearly, but his thoughts were a mess, and Harry's words from before echoed in his mind—something about a trap.
"Is someone there?" Charles called again, trying to sound braver than he felt.
A rustling sound came from behind one of the larger tombstones. Charles spun around, wand raised, his eyes straining to see through the fog and darkness. His heart pounded in his chest, his instincts screaming at him to run, but curiosity kept him rooted to the spot.
Suddenly, a cold, high-pitched voice cut through the stillness, sharp as a knife. "Stupefy."
The red jet of light struck Charles directly in the chest, and everything went black. He crumpled to the ground, his wand slipping from his grasp, the cold fog slowly enveloping his unconscious form.
A small, twisted figure emerged from the shadows, cradled in the arms of a robed figure who knelt beside Charles's limp body. The creature—barely resembling anything human—tilted its grotesque head, looking down at the unconscious boy.
"Look at him," Voldemort hissed, his voice dripping with malice. "The boy who they say defeated me... so easy to claim, so easy to break."
The robed figure bowed lower, obedient and silent as Voldemort continued. "Barty should have been here," he muttered, his tone edged with annoyance. "But it seems he had to sacrifice himself to make sure this boy reached the cup. His loyalty will not be forgotten."
Voldemort shifted slightly, a twisted smile curling his lip. "But we must not delay. The time has come—I shall not wait any longer to return to my body."
The robed figure nodded, and together they began their preparations, the chilling silence of the graveyard enveloping them once more.
---
Back at the maze, chaos was breaking out. The air was thick with confusion and panic as the crowd watched the magical mirrors that no longer showed the missing champion. The pedestal that had once held the Triwizard Cup now stood empty, and Charles's absence cast a heavy shadow over the entire stadium.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest as his mind raced. He had to get to the graveyard, and fast. He turned to Fleur, his urgency evident. "We need to get out of the maze, now. There has to be another way—another portkey."
Fleur nodded, her face resolute. She followed Harry back to the cup's pedestal, her wand ready. Harry placed a hand on the pedestal, and Fleur did the same. In an instant, the world twisted violently once again, and the familiar tug of a portkey took hold, yanking them away.
---
They landed roughly just outside the maze's entrance. Harry's eyes darted around, scanning the area, but as he had feared, there was no sign of Charles.
As Harry and Fleur descended from the platform, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick appeared, levitating an unconscious figure between them. The imposter, who was now visibly transformed from Mad-Eye Moody back into his true self, was unmistakable to anyone familiar with the dark days of the wizarding world.
"Barty Crouch Jr.," Dumbledore said gravely, his expression dark and serious.
Amelia Bones stepped forward, her tone sharp and accusing. "So Crouch wasn't as upstanding as he appeared after all," she muttered.
The gathered professors and officials began murmuring amongst themselves. Dumbledore raised a hand, and silence fell over the group. He turned to Amelia. "We need to find out everything we can—immediately," he said.
Lily Potter pushed her way through the crowd, her face pale and her eyes filled with worry. "Where's Charles?" she asked, her voice trembling. "He was supposed to come back with the cup."
James Potter was right behind her, his expression one of rising panic. He placed a steadying hand on Lily's shoulder and turned to Dumbledore. "Dumbledore, what's going on?" he demanded, his voice raw with desperation.
"We're going to find out," Dumbledore said, his voice calm but edged with steel. He turned his attention to Crouch Jr., pointing his wand and muttering a spell to revive him.
Crouch Jr. stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he took in his surroundings. His expression twisted into a sneer when he recognized the faces gathered around him.
"You," Lily's voice broke with emotion, her wand clenched tightly in her hand. "Where is my son?"
Crouch Jr. chuckled darkly, his laugh a cold, grating sound that sent chills through everyone present. "The mighty Potters come to beg for their child," he mocked, his eyes alight with malice.
James took an angry step forward, but Sirius was quicker. His wand was already pointed at Crouch Jr.'s heart, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You'd better tell us where he is," Sirius said, his tone dripping with menace. "Or you'll regret ever crossing us."
Dumbledore raised a hand to calm Sirius, his eyes never leaving Crouch Jr.'s face. "Where is Charles?" he asked, his voice steady but firm.
Crouch Jr. smirked, his gaze taunting. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Amelia stepped forward, her voice almost coaxing. "If you tell us now, we might consider leniency."
Crouch's smile widened into something wild and unhinged. "Leniency?" he spat. "You fools… you have no idea what's coming."
James's grip on his wand tightened, his entire body tense with fury. But Dumbledore signaled for restraint. He nodded to McGonagall and Flitwick. "Take him to the dungeons," he instructed. "We'll deal with him after we find out what's happened."
McGonagall and Flitwick began to levitate Crouch Jr. toward the castle, but before they could move far, he looked back at the group, his eyes gleaming with mad satisfaction. "The boy who lived won't return," he hissed. "But in his place, my lord will rise again."
Lily pressed a hand to her mouth, struggling to hold herself together. James stood beside her, his jaw clenched and his fists trembling. The Potters, along with Sirius and Amelia, were left standing in stunned silence, the weight of Crouch's words heavy in the air.
Amelia turned to Dumbledore, her voice barely steady. "What did he mean by that?"
"I fear," Dumbledore replied, his expression grim, "that Voldemort's return may be far closer than we'd hoped."
Lily's voice broke, her eyes filled with desperation. "James, we have to find Charles. He's in danger."
James tried to put on a brave face, his voice wavering as he spoke. "He'll be okay. He has the Potter luck. The Auror force will go out in full strength to find him."
Amelia nodded, her determination renewed as she began sending out her Patronus messages, calling on the Aurors for help.
The professors exchanged anxious glances, the gravity of the situation settling heavily over them. Suddenly, a small voice cut through the tense silence.
"Where is Harry?"
The group turned to see Aries standing beside Sirius, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear. His question sent a chill through the air, and realization dawned on them all at once.
"Harry?" Sirius whispered, his voice almost pleading. But as they looked around, the answer became clear—Harry was gone too.
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