Chapter 10: The Fourth Task: Earth

Hermione Granger and the other still standing competitors watched while Anton Iliev received the winner's reward - a purse filled with galleons, traditionally cursed as well, and an invitation to spend a month at the main curse-breaking camp Gringotts ran in Egypt, where he would be studying the work done there. After another round of applause in response to the Bulgarian's words of thanks Hermione was finally free to mingle with her friends and family.

She smiled as she spotted Harry walking towards her, but before he reached her, she was almost bowled over by an enthusiastic blonde witch who hugged her. "Hermione! That was great! Seeing you fight a cursed robe was so exciting - do you think it was jealous that you did not enchant it with the spells you know?"

"Huh?" Hermione was caught off-guard in more ways than one, having stumbled when Luna had all but tackled her, and understanding her friend took a bit of an effort even without having focused on curses for so long. "I don't think so. It's not as if it was alive."

"Aw. But maybe the right spells would have placated it anyway. Or made it come alive. That's how Lethifolds were created, you know." Luna released her just in time for a smirking Harry and a smiling Aicha to arrive, and put a finger on her nose, pondering a second. "Maybe it was a good thing you didn't." She nodded sagely, but with a smile that made it impossible to tell if she was serious or not. Though Hermione couldn't help but think about what kind of spells she knew that could have countered the curse on the enchanted robe. Maybe a variant of the floating garment charm would have prevented it from latching onto her? And if it had been transfigured into an animal, would that have broken the curse?

Harry's cough broke her train of thoughts, and she hastily bowed to him - they were in public. "My Patron."

"My Wand." He was smirking still.

Luna was craning her neck and patting Hermione's back, to check if she had caught any curses, or so the blonde claimed. "That was impressive, Hermione. You made the final round."

Hermione beamed, happily. "With some luck. I almost was too slow in the second round."

"You didn't get hurt, and that's the most important thing." Luna rapidly nodded several times at her own words.

"Luna's right. For a Curse-Breaker, how fast you are at breaking curses matters much less than how good you are it. Speed only matters for counter-curses, though from what I saw, you are quick on your feet."

Hermione turned towards the man who had just spoken, and her eyes widened. He was impressive. Tall, but not lanky, red hair, long, tied back in a ponytail, battered looking robes that nevertheless were bristling with protective enchantments, if she interpreted the sigils on them correctly, and cut in a way to allow him as much freedom of movement as possible, while still covering his body from neck to dragonhide boots. A roguish grin on his handsome face, and a fang dangling from an ear. Impressive and attractive, she noted. Then she noted Ron standing next to him, rolling his eyes, as well as Ginny, and she spotted the resemblance.

"You must be William Weasley." Normally it would have been a faux-pas to address him before Harry had done so, but he had addressed her first.

"You're as sharp as Ron and Harry told me. Call me Bill." He offered his hand, and when Hermione reached out to shake it - refusing that would have been a clear offense - he turned it into a kiss on her hand. She couldn't help but blush. Tall, handsome, skilled - former head boy - and charming.

"William Weasley." Harry's greeting was a tad more formal than Hermione would have expected; they had met before after all.

"Harry Potter." Bill returned the greeting with the exact same amount of formality, but clear amusement visible in his eyes. Hermione felt a sudden if slight annoyance at his attitude towards her Patron. Harry may have been just 14 years old, but he was the head of his family, and a Triwizard Tournament champion, and her Patron. "Your retainer gave an excellent showing in the competition. Truly impressive, especially given how much older the vast majority of her competitors were. You must be very proud of her." With proper decorum and respect shown - Bill was smooth - Hermione's annoyance was replaced by pride again.

"I am." Harry stepped a bit closer to Hermione. "Though she truly excels in spellcrafting."

Whatever Bill had been about to answer was cut short by Luna jumping into his arms. "Bill! Have you shrunk? You look and feel smaller than last time we saw each other!"

"Luna! That's because you have grown." Bill laughed, and twirled her around once, then set her down. She promptly started to poke him, claiming to check if he had still all parts. For a moment Hermione was jealous, then she laughed with the rest of the group. Luna introduced Aicha as well, who bowed to Bill, and her genie, who flitted around the wizard and tried to grab the fang dangling from his ear.

"I do hope you liked the last round, some of my finest work, if I do say so myself. How far did you get there?" Bill turned to her again, ignoring the blonde witch trying to look into his pockets.

"I reached the third box, the shiny golden one." The slightly pranking impression she had gotten from the boxes made sense, she realized.

"Ah. An interesting one. How did you get through the earlier ones?" He grinned at her.

Hermione ignored the way everyone but Luna and Bill frowned a bit, and started to explain what she had done.

Harry Potter didn't really like Bill Weasley at the moment. Not at all, if he was honest. The too-handsome, too-smooth Curse-Breaker was monopolizing Hermione's attention. She was Harry's friend, and his retainer. It was rather rude of an outsider to butt in when he had wanted to talk with her about the competition. Even if he didn't know as much about curse-breaking as the red-headed rake did, he knew far more about his friend. And Ron and Ginny were doing nothing! Didn't Ginny care that Bill was ignoring her? Harry knew she idolized her oldest brother, and had been very sad that Bill had chosen a career outside Britain. He glanced at her, trying to convey his annoyance with the situation, but when their eyes met, she simply smiled widely at him. Traitor.

Ron wasn't doing anything either, but at least he was glaring at his brother. And Luna… well, she wouldn't see the problem. And Aicha had no stake in this. Harry tried to tell himself that he should be glad Hermione was having fun talking about curse-breaking, but it was not working. He really wanted Bill doing anything but talking to Hermione right now.

Then he spotted a solution, of sorts. "Have you met my fellow champions yet, Bill?" Harry interrupted a far too interesting tale about a particularly dangerous trap in some old tomb that made Bill appear both modest and impressive, and pointed to Viktor and Fleur.

"No, I haven't yet have the pleasure…" Bill turned towards the direction Harry was pointing at, and his eyes widened when he spotted Fleur. Perfect.

"Let me introduce you then." Harry ignored the glare Hermione was sending him, and the guilt at ruining her fun, while he led the eldest of the Weasley sons over to meet the French veela. And the Bulgarian wizard too. "Viktor, Fleur? May I introduce Bill Weasley? He is a Curse-Breaker from Gringotts, and was responsible for the final challenge of this competition."

Bill was as smooth greeting Fleur as he had been when he met Hermione, no even smoother. The two seemed to hit it off, even. Harry smiled, satisfied. When he turned to Hermione he realized everyone but Luna and Aicha, who were both smirking, and Viktor, who was politely listening, was frowning at him. What had he done now?

Draco was still sulking about Granger not getting cursed during the competition. Pansy Parkinson could have told him Granger was playing it safe and not taking risks, but he wouldn't have listened anyway. At least it meant he was not talking too much, and most of what he was saying could be safely ignored. That at least had not changed. Other things though, had. Draco's recent victory in that 'dueling lesson' had increased his standing among those who had not realized that his enchanted robes had made him win, not his skill.

Fools, Pansy thought. On the other hand, outside a dueling tournament, only a fool would dismiss such protective enchantments when assessing an opponent. And any Slytherin worth his or her salt knew that the only competition that counted was the one outside the tournaments and their rules.

Draco, with her on his arm and his two 'friends' following them, made his way through the crowd after the competition. By now all of those who had failed to deal with the curses had returned from the Infirmary - with such set-pieces, removing a curse was easy for the healers since they knew the exact spells and their counterspells in advance.

She nodded to Tanya Ricklebern, one of the Slytherins who had taken part in the competition. "Well done, Miss Ricklebern. Reaching the second round is quite the achievement."

Pansy smiled sweetly. She almost meant it - Ricklebern was a fifth year, and even counting the fact that most Slytherins from old families had at least some experience with curses by the time they recovered from their first visit to the family home's attic or cellar, it was impressive. Would have been, if not for Granger, of course. Judging by the slightly forced smile when Ricklebern thanked her for the compliment, the other witch knew it as well. Outdone by a 4th year mudblood, and one who did not really focus on curse-breaking… Pansy felt like shaking her head. Though in a twisted way she was glad for that as well - Granger showing up older students made her showing up Pansy and the others in her year more tolerable. In their first year, the older students of their House had scorned Pansy and her year mates for doing worse in class than the mudblood. That had stopped once Granger started showing up the older students as well.

Draco of course couldn't help speaking his mind. "Half the students reached the second round. Some families might accept mediocrity, but who would consider it an achievement to do as well as half the crowd?" Pansy felt like hexing him.

Putting on her best vapid smile, she answered as if she had not understood that Draco had meant to ask a rhetorical question. "She was only two places behind Granger in the first round." That shut Draco up, and made Ricklebern smile more honestly.

Unfortunately, it also made Draco complain about Granger again. "To think that that mudblood progressed so far. Truly, things have only gotten worse in the last decade. It is high time someone does something about this before Britain completes its slide into barbarism." He glared at the floating tray with drinks and finger food as if it was the cause of it.

Pansy was more than a bit disturbed hearing him talk like this. He was doing this more and more frequently. Usually she'd not care much, Draco loved to talk, but at the end of that duel, Draco had been about to cast something, but had stopped. And while he had told her all the spells he had cast, in detail, multiple times, he had never mentioned what that spell would have been. Not even an offhand remark about how he had graciously spared his opponent further humiliation or pain, or something like that. Pansy didn't know what spell Draco had planned to cast, but she knew she didn't like the implications of her 'boyfriend' not boasting about it.

The evening of the day of the Curse-Breaking Competition saw another concert in the arena, this time with the Weird Sisters. Hermione knew they were an up and coming band of witches, though how much of that was due to their talent, and how much was due to lack of competition was hard to say. They were not bad, she knew that from listening to them on the Wizarding Wireless - Lavender was a big fan - but also quite eccentric. For an entire year they had exclusively performed while polyjuiced into wizards.

The arena would be packed, especially the flat part where the audience could dance. Due to the strict security measures, it would take a long time until everyone was inside the arena, but since Harry was a Champion, and a target, he and his friends could enter right away - standing outside in the middle of a crowd was deemed to be too dangerous for Harry, and for anyone around him. One good thing in this mess, Hermione thought.

Though it also meant they had a long time to spend waiting, but at least it was with snacks and drinks, and in the semi-privacy of the Champion's Lounge. Semi-private since while it was reserved for the Champions and their friends and families, acquaintances of course could visit, if only for a short time without being rude. In Hermione's opinion Daphne Greengrass had crossed the line into being rude just by entering. It wasn't as if she was on friendly terms with anyone inside. Throwing that into her face, much less throwing her out, would have been a faux-pas though. Feuds had been started over less.

Hermione still had to fight not to audibly groan when the blonde idiot started to flirt with Harry. Or attempted to. "I have to say, Mister Potter, your retainer's performance exceeded all expectations. You've done so well as her Patron, it's unbelievable."

Hermione tensed up - what was unbelievable? It wasn't as if Harry had taught her curse-breaking! - when she felt a hand on her back. Harry was slightly to the front of her so… a glance confirmed that it was Luna, smiling at her.

"Try the dirigible plums? They are so sweet, they'll float into your mouth." The blonde witch pushed a few floating fruits at her. Hermione opened her mouth to politely decline, and found one of them on her tongue before she could utter a word. They were very sweet, at least, and Luna looked happy.

The plums had distracted her though, so she had apparently missed Greengrass leaving. Susan was standing close to Harry and smirking at the Slytherin's back, so she probably had sent her away. Hermione was not as happy about that as she should have been.

A bit away, Fleur was talking to Bill, as she had done since the two had met hours ago, when Harry had so rudely broken into a most fascinating discussion of curse-breaking. Though talking was the wrong word. Hermione was not even sure if the two were still flirting, or if Fleur had started to court the wizard, as French witches and wizards did when looking for an affair, or more. Hermione was not too experienced in such matters; the books she had read were notoriously vague on the finer points of romance and courtship.

Maybe she should try some French books? Lavender had offered to let her read some of hers, but those were the magical versions of steamy romance novels, with asinine plots and characters. And the one the other witch had put into her hands, 'In the Sultan's Harem', had not looked like it would contain any useful information about the customs of western european countries. So she had handed it back, but not after changing the hair color of the slave girl on the cover from a chestnut brown that looked suspiciously like her own hair color when she used her favorite styling charm into a color that exactly matched Lavender's locks. If the witch wanted to get back at her for the Yule Ball she had to try harder.

"You're cute when you're jealous." What? Luna was grinning at her.

"Who would I be jealous of?" Hermione retorted.

"That's a good question, Hermione. When you find out, tell me?"

Hermione covered her lack of response up by fetching another drink and a snack. She knew she didn't like it when a girl got too close to Harry, but that was the Patron Oath influencing her, making her afraid of getting replaced as his closest friend.

"So, what is this I hear about Malfoy being skilled now?" Ron was sitting in the unused classroom they had taken over as a training room, and checked how much was left in his bottle of butterbeer by holding it up against one of the lights hovering near the ceiling. Harry Potter summoned one for himself. He couldn't stand pumpkin juice, but butterbeer was good.

"Rumor is - and I heard this from Parvati, mind you, so it went through a few students already - that he won against a 6th year Slytherin student in one of their duels they pass off as 'studying' or 'training'. Won without trouble, even," Hermione explained without looking up from the book on magic plants she was reading. She was making notes about potential obstacles in the last task. For him.

"Any details on how he managed that?" Harry frowned. Malfoy was an idiot. A rich idiot, but an idiot nevertheless. He shouldn't be able to best a student two years his senior, unless that student was an idiot as well. Granted, there was no shortage of those in the school. "And who did he beat?"

"Wilkins." Hermione was still not looking up, but this made Ron pay more attention.

"Wilkins is not half-bad. For a Slytherin." Harry's friend emptied his bottle. "I've seen him dueling before. Malfoy is worse."

"That might have changed. Or Malfoy got lucky."

"That's always a possibility. But I think the rumors would not be spreading that much if it had just been luck." Hermione closed her book, finally paying attention.

"What else would it be? Robes do not make that much of a difference." Ron summoned a sandwich, which he kept floating in front of his mouth, taking a bite out of it without using his hands. Harry grinned at the sight - his friend would never dare doing that at the Burrow.

"Most robes do not. But if you spend enough money, you can buy some really good protection. Especially against the sort of spells people use in duels where they do not want to kill their opponent. I've been looking into that, in order to work on duplicating it." Hermione frowned at Ron's display, and summoned a glass and a pitcher of water for herself.

"Merlin's balls, just what we needed - Malfoy's money mattering even more." Ron added a few more colorful curses under his breath.

Harry was tempted to do the same, but Hermione would not appreciate that. She was still a bit miffed about his handling of the 'Bill intrusion', as he liked to think of it. Harry had asked Sirius for the latest book on curse-breaking, to mollify his retainer. Expensive, but then, she was worth it. And not just because she was likely to use her knowledge to save him.

"I can probably match or exceed whatever protections he has on his robes over the summer, unless his father hired one of the enchanters doing custom work," Hermione said. Case in point, Harry thought.

"And if he has hired one of those?" Ron asked.

"Then I'll surpass it next year." Hermione smirked confidently.

"So, we need to take that into account when we train. Spells that bypass, ignore or go through protective spells." Ron looked at Hermione. As expected, she nodded.

"I've made a list of such enchantments to help improve our own protections." She dug in her mokeskin pocket, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "The general tactic is to either overload them, which breaks them, temporarily disable them, or use spells that ignore them."

No one mentioned the Unforgivables, but Harry was sure every one of them thought about them.

"The thing is, there are limits for all protection spells. They don't work that well with each other, and some need quite the fine-tuning to help more than hinder. Otherwise your spell will stop a bludger from knocking you over, but also slow you down when you want to drop to the floor to dodge a spell," His friend explained while pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear in a very distracting manner.

"So, if we play it right we can arrange it so that Malfoy gets defeated by his own robe?" Ron was grinning broadly. Harry had to agree, this was a most promising possibility.

"If we play it right we'll not fight him at all." Hermione of course had to spoil their fun. "We've got more important things to worry about than Malfoy."

That Harry had to agree with. The last task was coming up. He'd be facing Earth-themed foes - plants, burrowers, elementals - and traps of all kinds, in a cave or underground labyrinth. And he had barely more than a month and a half left to prepare. Hermione hadn't been able to think of a spell she could craft to help him there, but she had found plenty of spells he could learn.

"No." Hermione Granger stated firmly. She would not give in. No matter what.

"But Hermione! It would fit you perfectly!" No matter how much Luna whined and begged. "Look!" Luna held up the latest spring robe she had picked out in the shop in Hogsmeade. 'Spring robe' was only correct in a very loose sense of the word - it was closer to a bathing suit than a robe, at least from the amount of fabric it used, in Hermione's opinion. A skimpy bathing suit.

"It consists of a few scraps of fabric floating in place. Small scraps of thin fabric," Hermione said.

"And a cape!" Luna pointed out.

"A transparent cape." Hermione crossed her arms under her chest and raised her chin. Luna caved in. Sort of.

"This would fit you perfectly!"

It had more fabric. It also looked like a low-cut cocktail dress more than anything else. A cocktail dress that barely reached her thighs, with spaghetti straps and wandering, growing and shrinking holes in the fabric. On the other hand, Hermione had nice legs, she knew that, and this would draw attention to them. And the wandering holes could be enchanted to make sure nothing embarrassing was revealed. It would just take a bit of tweaking. Hermione studied the garment, almost missing the grin on Luna's face.

"You wanted this robe from the start." She stared at her friend, narrowing her eyes.

"Uh uh." Luna just smiled, and picked another of those robes for herself. "We can enchant it to match colors again!"

Hermione had to smile - Luna's enthusiasm and bubbly personality was hard to resist. And it was fun, she had to admit. And if she was honest with herself the young witch had to admit she wanted to see how her friends, how Harry, reacted to that robe. On that thought… "How much was the other robe?" She grinned at the look of surprise on Luna's face, a very rare sight.

May had finally brought temperatures warm enough to allow swimming in the Black Lake without too many Warming Charms. As was to be expected half the school had taken to spend the afternoons at the shore of the lake, or in the lake. Some were studying under a tree, some were sunbathing, many were swimming or taking a break from swimming. A number were jumping from floating platforms or from brooms. Harry was seated under a tree himself, a book on stone manipulating spells on his lap. He should be preparing for the next, the final task, but he hadn't turned a page in the last 30 minutes. The weather was too nice, the lake too inviting, and the sights too appealing.

A shriek and laughter made him turn his head. Another illusionary bathing suit had been hit with a Finite. Judging by the age of the students in the group there, and the lack of nasty hexing in retaliation, that finite had not been entirely unwanted or unplanned for, and the illusion hadn't just been chosen because swimming without a stitch of actual fabric on was more comfortable. Sixth years, showing off.

"Have you been waiting long for us?"

Hermione's voice made him turn his head away from the sixth years and towards his friend with such speed he almost hurt his neck. Had she noticed? She was smirking, so she had. Then he noticed what she was wearing - a dress that just about stopped where her thighs started, and looked so thin that the slightest breeze would lift it, if not blow it away completely, given how many holes it already had… he coughed, and looked at the lake instead of at his friend.

"Not long. Half an hour or so. What took you so long?"

"We had to decide on our bathing costumes." Luna answered for the two of them. Three, Aicha arrived as well. "Where's Ron?"

"Ron's already in the water, with Neville." Harry pointed at the two, using brooms to fly up to the highest of the platforms.

"Showing off for Padma, I see." Hermione's voice sounded amused and satisfied. Harry wasn't certain if that was just because she liked Padma - or if she liked Parvati fuming about that particular couple.

"And for Ginny," Luna added. "Neville I mean."

Harry turned his attention back to the three girls, just in time to catch Hermione slipping out of her dress. He stared. His best friend was wearing nothing but an illusion. She was not actually showing more skin than anyone else at a muggle beach, but to think the only thing hiding her body was a flimsy illusion, so easily dispelled with a flick of his wand… his second thought was to tell her to wear something more resistant to finites. He didn't, of course. She'd have hexed him for that. His third thought was that he was glad he had a book on his lap.

"I am headed into the water myself then, I am feeling a bit hot."

Hermione slowly walked down to the lake. Harry's eyes seemed glued to her, he barely noticed Luna and Aicha following his retainer. When she finally started swimming he leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes, and tried to drown out the voice of Sirius that told him that girls wearing that kind of swimming costumes were asking for a Finite. Hermione wasn't like that. And she'd kill him if he tried anything. He still feared her reaction, should she ever find out what exactly Sirius had done to prank her and Harry and Yuletide.

"Hi Harry." Susan sat down next to him. She was wearing a sensible robe, at least.

"Hi Susan. Are you going to swim as well?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't feel well enough."

"Oh. Shouldn't you see Madam Pomfrey then?"

She sent a look at him that made him shut up. He didn't know what gaffe he had committed, but he knew better than to ask further. So he looked at the lake, at his friends, at Hermione swimming and laughing. He wanted to join them, but he didn't want to leave Susan all alone when she was not well enough to swim. Instead the two of them chatted. Or rather, Susan filled him in with the latest gossip while he kept an eye on his retainer, and made agreeing noises from time to time.

Finally, Hermione stepped out of the lake again, and started towards him. Then suddenly her bathing costume disappeared! Harry was on his feet, his book falling to the ground, and had drawn his wand before he realized his friend was not naked, but wearing a bikini. He blinked. He was sure she had not been wearing that before. Hermione kept walking, after throwing a glance at whoever had cast the Finite. Harry was still staring when she reached his spot and dried the bikini with her wand.

"A disillusion charm on the bikini, tied to the illusionary bathing costume. I got the idea after the Curse-Breaking Competition." Hermione explained, with a proud smile.

Harry beamed at her. That was his girl!

"That was clever." Susan nodded at Hermione, who smiled at her.

"Thank you. I think it was Lavender, she had a really shocked look on her face, and her wand in hand. I am not sure though. It could also have been Parvati, or someone else." Judging from the way her smile turned from proud to slightly evil, Hermione was planning to find out, and then retaliate. Harry really did not want to be in the place of whoever had tried to expose her. Once again he hoped she'd never find out what Sirius had done.

He collected his book and sat down again. He could handle Hermione in a bikini. Or so he thought, until Hermione leaned over and whispered into his ear: "We should work on desensitizing you, Harry. Proper purebloods do not react that strongly to nudity in public." He gaped at her, until she giggled.

Huffing, he hid behind his book for a while. Girls!

Hermione Granger wiped some sweat from her brow. Helping Harry to prepare for the last task was exhausting. With the expected set-up - an underground labyrinth filled with traps and monsters - there was no single spell to give him an edge. Or rather, she had not been able to think of one. A spell to travel through the earth had come to mind at first, but she hadn't been able to find a way to achieve that. Most spells that allowed to travel through earth resulted in such slow movement, braving the labyrinth would be faster, and not that much more dangerous, given that she had not found a way to see through the earth and spot traps and monsters in advance either. Harry had agreed with her that they should focus on learning and training with existing spells. Which was why she was now getting put through her paces, in an impromptu training session apart from the regular ones with Sirius and Remus. Professor Lupin, she corrected herself.

At least she had found an obscure spell that would help Harry find his way through the maze - Minotaur's Bane was it called. And she had collected a lot of information about typical opponents champions had faced in the last tasks of past tournaments. She still felt she was letting Harry down, even if he had told her he would never have come as far as he had without her. But as his retainer, she had to, needed to help her Patron. The thought of him getting hurt due to her failing him… it hurt.

She summoned a glass of water and watched Harry hold his shield up while Ron pelted it with stunners and other spells. She wasn't certainif it would be a blessing or a curse that she would not be able to watch Harry's progress through the task this time. She wouldn't see him getting hurt, but she'd worry even more, not knowing how he was faring. Sighing, she got up again and banished the glass. Putting a smile on her face even though she didn't really feel like, she joined her two friends again.

The last "Champions' Evening" before the fourth task was different from the others, Harry Potter thought. The camaraderie the Champions had shared ever since the first task was still there, as was the friendship that had grown from that. And yet there was a nostalgia present that affected them all. This was the last time they'd meet like this, before a dangerous task. After the task they wouldn't be the three Champions anymore. One of them would be the Triwizard Tournament Champion. And the two others would be the ones who didn't win. The losers, in other words. He supposed he shouldn't feel bad, should he lose. Beaten by Viktor Krum or Fleur Delacour, both three years his senior and the champions of their schools, shouldn't be too bad. But to lose, even if only temporarily, ceremonially, Hermione…

Harry raised his glass, filled with a cola he had gotten for the occasion, to his fellow champions. He didn't say anything, but since they too raised their glasses - wine in their case - and had the same grim and challenging expression on their face he was sure he had as well, he guessed they understood. They drank in silence. Ron looked confused but Hermione was frowning at him, before she raised her own glass.

"To safely finishing this tournament, and a final task without any incident or sabotage!" The way she glared him, there would be an incident right there and then should Harry not agree. So he did. Even though her toast needed a lot of work. But that was his Hermione, as he… liked her. As her Patron, oath-bound. He had asked himself if they would be as close without that oath, without the life debt, but he had never been sure if he wanted to know the answer. If all his feelings towards her were the result of such magic… or, worse, the feelings he hoped she had...

After this chastisement, the rest of the evening was spent in a less competitive mood, though the melancholy remained. Things would not be the same again, for better or worse. Though if Harry was honest, not having to worry about losing Hermione, or about sabotage of a tournament he shouldn't be participating in in the first place, would be a good thing indeed.

He patted Hermione's thigh and filled his glass again, smiling at her surprised and then confused expression. He leaned over to her, and whispered. "I'll not lose you, not even for a second." She blushed, then glared at him, but he thought her heart was not in it. Not completely, at least.

Albus Dumbledore was standing at the window in his office, looking out. It was a bit unusual for him these days, or years. Fawkes was making inquiring noises behind him, so he turned to his companion of so many decades. "I am just enjoying the scenery, Fawkes." When the phoenix cocked his head in what Albus had come to recognize as doubt, he added: "And thinking about young Harry." At that the phoenix lost what interest he had had, and started to groom himself. Albus chuckled. It was true that Harry was often on his mind, especially these days.

The boy, no, the young man, had been faced with yet another calamity, and had risen to the occasion, as he had done so often in the past already. The young man and his friends, first and foremost among them Miss Granger. And since the Yule Ball Harry's date, Miss Bones, had become a good friend of his as well. And maybe more - which presented Albus with a possible problem.

Miss Granger was of crucial importance for Harry, as the tournament so far had proven. If what he suspected was true, then the young wizard would need her support even more in the future. And Albus was not sure if Miss Bones' growing friendship was about to threaten that. If Amelia's niece was seeking just friendship, then she'd be a boon to Harry. But if she was looking for something more, if she was looking to become young Harry's lover… Miss Granger was already not likely to easily accept becoming Harry's mistress while he took a wife, although he thought her pragmatism would win out over her pride. But to share his heart with someone else… Albus shook his head. She'd never accept that. If Miss Bones was aiming for something more than friendship with Harry, this would put a strain on the relation to Miss Granger. Either relation.

He returned to his desk and summoned a lemon drop. The Year of Discovery would be bad enough for the two young students' relationship, without additional complications. But interfering would make matters worse, much worse. It usually did, when teenagers were involved. His own experiences, both as a teenager and as an adult, had proven that.

The enchantment on his office doors informed him that someone was coming up the stairs. Alastor, a look at the small mirror on his desk confirmed. "Good day, Alastor. Lemon Drop?"

"No thanks." His friend sat down on the chair in front of his desk, which automatically adjusted to provide more comfort. "I caught one of the tournament staff trying to poison the champions' robes."

"Imperiused?" Albus had expected such a ploy. The day of the last task was the best opportunity for such attempts, with so many guests and staff arriving in the morning.

The gruff old auror nodded. "Aye. The Thief's Downfall caught him."

Every galleon the Ministry was paying the goblins for that had been worth it, Albus thought, satisfied. Cornelius had balked at the cost at first, but the thought of having a champion, much less the Boy-Who-Lived, dying on his watch had made him see reason. And yet… "One would think that our saboteur would have been a bit more clever than to rely on that."

Alastor nodded. "Right again. The replacement robes we got from Madam Malkin's were already trapped." He pointed at his artificial eye. "Even with this I almost missed it. There were runes expertly hidden inside the fabric."

"Oh? What was their effect?" Albus loved discovering new spells or other feats of magic, and even circumstances such as these only dampened his enthusiasm, but did not remove it.

"Don't know, don't care right now. The robes were supposed to be free of any enhancements, so there shouldn't have been any runes. You can sort the things out after the tournament - but it might be a trap for you. Our saboteur certainly would be able to plan that far ahead. The bugger has a twisted mind." Alastor sounded almost approving.

"I will be careful. You have taken other measures to reduce the chance of similar traps." It was no question, Albus knew his friend well.

"Aye. Replaced whatever we could spare with conjured things. The stakes stand, the chairs, most of the judges' lounge. I'd have replaced the robes with conjured ones as well, but the organizers balked." He scoffed. Albus understood that decision - in such tasks, the students often had to resort to finites to cancel spells affecting them, and to see their clothes disappear would not make a good impression on the guests of Hogwarts. "So I got clean robes from my own tailor."

"Very well. Let us descend to the arena then, and supervise the preparations again." Albus knew he should have been there from the start, but he was not getting any younger these days. And he wanted to be well-rested when the task started.

He didn't show any weakness when he stood up and followed his friend down the stairs, but since his friend had not commented on him not being present at the arena already, Alastor certainly knew or suspected.

Hermione Granger was sitting with Harry, Sirius and Professor Lupin in the Champions' Lounge. The Delacours and Krums were walking around Hogwarts, sightseeing with the two champions acting as guides. That had been deemed too dangerous for Harry, and by extension, herself. Not that anyone present had felt like it. This was their school, after all. Professor Lupin lived here during the terms, and Sirius had visited so often, he might as well have taken a room too. She wished she could show her parents the school, but… she told herself it was too dangerous under the circumstances. And they'd not like seeing their only daughter presented as one of the prizes of the event anyway.

The door to the lounge opened, and Hermione tensed up. She had her wand partially drawn, hidden at her side, and pushed away from the wall she was leaning against, so she could react faster, just in case. When she saw it was Fleur, she relaxed - a bit. The French Champion was leading her family inside and introduced them. To Harry, Sirius and Professor Lupin, of course. Retainers did not rate introductions on such occasions. Next to Fleur's parents, a stunningly beautiful veela and a stocky but jovial looking wizard, her grand-parents and Head of Families were also present for the event. All decked out in high-fashion robes from Paris, which seemed inspired by the latest Chanel collection, as far as Hermione could judge. It seemed she had not been as original as she had thought when she had turned to muggle fashion as inspiration for her own projects. Unless of course the designer for Chanel was inspired by wizard fashion.

And there was Fleur's adorable little sister Gabrielle, who was clinging to her mother's leg and peeking out from behind her. Hermione smiled when she met the little veela's gaze but Gabrielle squeaked and ducked behind her mother's robes. She didn't look that scary, did she? Fortunately, Ron was not present, he'd have made a few jokes at her expense later. Unfortunately, Sirius was present, who'd cover for Ron's loss, and then some. She glared at him, but he just smirked.

"We have heard such good things about you from my granddaughter," Fleur's grandmother, a witch and not a veela, stated with a noticeable lack of accent, "you must visit us over the summer at our mansion at the Côte d'Azur."

Hermione noted that it was the grandmother who extended the invitation she had expected for months, but she was not certain if that meant the mansion was within her purview, or if it was because Harry was Fleur's friend, and therefore it fell to the female Head of Family to invite him. She'd have to ask Fleur later.

Harry of course accepted. Hermione didn't know what she would have done to him if he robbed her of the opportunity to visit the French Magical Riviera as a guest of the Delacours. Or rather, as the retainer of a guest of them.

While the two groups were still exchanging pleasantries, Krum's family arrived as well. They presented quite the contrast to the elegant Delacours. Not just because of their robes, which had more than a passing resemblance to duelists' robes, but their guarded, reserved attitude. Even when smiling and inviting Harry to visit them in Bulgaria over the summer, they seemed to be wary, ready. Like herself, Hermione realized, wondering if that was just because they knew about the threat of sabotage, or if there was something more behind it. This summer would be interesting, she decided.

Barty Crouch Jr. smiled widely, overlooking the site chosen for his master's rebirth. Everything was in its place. The altar, the sacrificial implements, the needed ingredients, the candles and runic stones encircling it, the polished stone floor, all perfectly aligned. If the members of his old coven knew what ritual he would be performing at their sacred site… not that any of them were still alive. But the protections placed upon it so long ago would mask the magic worked this day. And the corruption of the site's magic that would result from the ritual would help power it.

Next to him Mykew Cattermole-Brandon was sleeping peacefully in his crib. Barty sat down and caressed the baby's cheek. Such a fine young wizard! He tickled his belly, and grinned at the giggling noises that produced. The Cattermole-Brandons had every reason to be proud of their son, if not of their pitiful wards, or equally pitiful skills at defense. He didn't think they had even seen him before he had taken them out. Once his Master was ruling Britain, as was his his ancestral right and sacred duty, such weaknesses would be corrected.

He stood up again and walked over to the altar upon which the temporary host of his Master was resting. The wind was picking up, despite the clear sky - the magic of the place had to be feeling something important, something glorious was about to take place.

His Master, wearing the form of a small child, a transfigured snake, turned his head towards him, but otherwise remained still as a statue.

"Barty, my most faithful servant."

"Master." He bowed deeply.

"It is time. Begin."

"It's time, Mister Potter."

Harry turned towards the attendant addressing him and nodded. Since he was in the lead by five points he'd have a head start of five minutes. Staggered starting times meant that whoever reached the goal first was the winner, without the need to award and then compare points totals, as had happened after the other tasks. He didn't know why that was not done for every task. Probably tradition.

He walked to the entrance to the labyrinth the arena had been changed into. It was impressive. A three-dimensional maze of tunnels, chutes and twisted passages, made from stone, earth, even clay, the structure slowly changing, warping. Hermione had said it reminded her of a painting from Escher, come alive - whatever that meant. Harry was pretty certain that it was not a good thing. It didn't matter though. What mattered was that somewhere inside there, at the exit, was Hermione, waiting for him. He didn't know what kind of traps and monsters would be trying to stop him, but he knew they'd not succeed. His retainer, his Hermione, needed him.

"Ready Mister Potter?"

Harry drew his wand and nodded. "Yes."

"Begin."

Harry entered the arena and felt the familiar tug of a portkey. After a very brief trip he landed in a crouch, wand out, in a dark tunnel, on the top floor of the labyrinth - probably. He had expected that, had been counting on it. If all Champions started from the same place, his and Hermione's plan would not work that well. Waving his wand in a complicated pattern, he started to cast Minotaur's Bane. Soon a glowing ball of yarn appear at the tip of his wand, floating a bit away before it started to uncoil, with a strand floating down the tunnel. The spell led the caster to a place or person known to him. It had a short range, but it should cover the labyrinth. Harry smirked as he followed the yarn. Some might call this cheating, but it wasn't his fault that Hermione was his stake in this tournament. He'd take any advantage he could get to make sure he could get her safely out of it again. She was his retainer, after all.

Turning around the next corner he came face to face with what looked like an animated clay figure the size of a man. It was trying to catch the intangible yarn and had not noticed Harry yet. A Blasting curse from him made sure it would not notice him ever by splattering clay bits all over the … clay walls? Harry's eyes widened when he saw that the remains of the figure he had blown up were sinking into the walls. He might have been a tad hasty in blowing it up. When over a dozen clay figures started to form out of the walls, floor and even ceiling, he knew he had made a mistake.

Running past them before they had fully formed, he hit a few of them with sticking charms in passing. Hopefully that would at least slow them down. Glancing back, he saw that half a dozen were still chasing after him, but they seemed to be rather slow. He would be able to outrun them - unless another obstacle stopped him.

He continued to run until the walls changed from clay to stone. Perfect. Turning around, he started to transfigure the stone into a wall to close up the tunnel between him and the clay figures. It took some time, but he managed to raise the wall high enough to keep him safe before the first of his pursuers reached him. Sketching a salute at the clay arm grasping through the gap left on top of the wall, he turned around, then stopped. That was a rather long arm… looking back, the arm was almost touching the ground. That thing was changing its shape to go over the wall!

"Reducto!"

Another Blasting Curse blew it up, giving him enough time to raise another wall. This time he left no gap for them to ooze through. Shaking his head at the mistakes he had made, he vowed to to be more careful.

Hermione definitely didn't like this task. Not only was she still on display with the other stakes, a prize to be taken by whoever reached her first, but she couldn't even see how Harry was doing. Wouldn't know if he was hurt, or worse, while she was left to stare at the stone walls of her temporary prison.

"Ah. Did you feel those tremors? Someone fell down a chute. I wonder if that was your owner."

A temporary prison she was stuck in with the last guardian of the labyrinth, an Earth Genie. Who apparently believed he would be able to keep the stakes if no champion managed to defeat him. She rolled her eyes in disdain at the creature, who looked like a man made of grey stone clad in arabic garments. She knew that if no one managed to win, the stakes would be returned to the Champions. Or their heirs.

"You'll be a prize my rivals will be jealous of. They laughed at me when I agreed to take part in this contest of you mortals. But I will have the last laugh!" He stepped closer to her, but was careful not to cross the line around the stand where the stakes rested. Or sat in Hermione's case. His grin showed pearly white teeth, in a mouth too wide for a human his size. "So pretty…"

Hermione really wanted to hurt whoever had the idea to pick this creature as the last obstacle. Refraining from hexing the creature - that would break the deal he had made, she had been told several times - she pulled out a book from her enchanted pocket. Reading should distract her. Or at least, show the annoying genie just how little she cared about his delusions. They were delusions, of course. No wizard would break custom and tradition and deal away the stakes of the champions. She told herself that while she started to turn the pages.

His Master's form was soaked with the potion Barty Crouch Jr. had been brewing for months. He didn't notice the awful stench of rotten, putrid meat. The candles were burning and the runic stones were glowing, shielding the site from the winds that had grown to the strength of a storm, battering at the glowing barrier and destroying the foliage of the trees surrounding the area. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, Barty thought, or how he imagined that would be like.

The obsidian dagger had been soaking in the potion as well. The stone blade would shatter in a day and an hour from the stress, but it would hold until then. It had carved out the hearts of countless people sacrificed to the sun in the Americas, before the Spaniards had put an end to that practise and to the people who had practised it, centuries ago. They had believed such sacrifices were needed to keep the world from ending, to continue the cycle of life. It was only fitting that such a weapon would serve to return his master to life.

He took the dagger and started to walk around the altar, chanting the words he had learned by heart from the grimoires his Master had guided him to. He didn't even notice the storm growing stronger, tearing branches off trees and smashing them against the barrier. All his thoughts were on his glorious duty as dark magic filled him.

A trapdoor. Harry almost smiled. After the encounter with the strangling fireproof roots that had left him in tattered, ripped robes and after the quicksand roof with the gravity reversal field, encountering a trapdoor, likely with a pit beneath it, felt like catching a break. It was well-made, but he had spotted the fine lines in the stone floor. He conjured a rock the size of his head and banished it at the trap. That should be enough of a weight to trigger it.

The rock hit the trapdoor, bouncing off, but nothing happened. Harry frowned. Maybe there was a magical trigger, a detection spell? He cast a Finite at the area, then banished another rock at the trapdoor. Still nothing. Maybe this was a fake trap, meant to stall the too cautious? He stepped closer when the trapdoor suddenly opened - towards the ceiling - and a dog-sized spider jumped out.

Harry dove to the side, but one of the creature's legs caught him, smashing him against the wall. He lost another part of his robe, as well as some skin, but he managed to cast a Shield Charm in time to stop the spider from pouncing on him. For a moment he was staring at the mandibles scraping over his shield in an attempt to snatch him, and saw eight beady eyes meeting his. Then the spider jumped back and crouched down. It was about to charge at him again, the wizard realized. His shield would not stand up against another impact.

Harry cast Aguamenti. The stream of water managed to push the animal back - he had become quite proficient at casting that spell when he had been training for the second task - and while it was recovering, he followed up with a piercing curse. The spider moved at the last moment though and he didn't hit the head, instead drilling a hole into its body.

Screeching, the monster rushed him, green blood pouring out of the wound. Harry froze the water on the floor and slid to the side. The spider went past him and stopped near the trapdoor. A quick banishing charm and a colloportus later, the spider was trapped in its own trap. Panting, Harry cast a quick Episkey on his side and continued. Fortunately, the yarn he was following had not reversed direction - that happened already once, to be expected when traveling inside a labyrinth that was slowly changing, after all.

Barty Crouch Jr. took a deep breath. He was covered with runes written with his own blood, as was his master's body, and Mykew. With the child in his arms, he walked backwards around the altar, retracing the steps he had taken before. Every candle he passed was snuffed out, the site growing darker despite the fact it was still afternoon. When he had completed the circle the area was covered by unnatural darkness. Barty didn't see anything anymore but his own body - and the runes written with his own blood, which seemed to glow in the darkness, filled with power that made him shiver with pain. The obsidian dagger was floating, its point tracking Barty - no, Mykew.

With a smile, Barty placed the baby on the altar, opposite his Master. Outside the barrier, which was shining now, the storm had started to uproot trees, and wood, smashed to kindling, was starting to pile up around the barrier. He chuckled - nothing would stop him now.

He closed his eyes, savoring the moment for just a second, then reached for the dagger. On the altar, Mykew, held in place by a sticking charm and unable to move, started to cry. Barty's smile widened while he raised the dagger. Perfect!

Harry was in a very bad mood. He had dropped down a chute filled with water, bouncing and scraping over the stone walls, acquiring bruises faster than in one of Wood's infamous 'dodge the bludgers' exercises. Exercises Hermione had hexed Wood for, before Harry could stop her. He had to recast the Minotaur's Bane spell twice so far, and had dealt with poison gas, underground rivers and magical kudzu that had grown almost faster than he had managed to burn it.

The tunnel he was in had changed too. No clay, no stone, but packed earth surrounded him. That usually meant plants of a sort, he thought. He didn't see any sign of roots though. He raised his wand and shot flames at the walls, the floor and the ceiling. He hadn't heard of invisible plants, but one never knew what a wizard or witch could invent. Nothing. He moved forward, and repeated the spell. This time he hit something - out of the wall slid a thick-limbed, slow-moving creature made of earth and stone - an elemental. He bared his teeth. He had dealt with such before, and he had just the spell for it.

He raised his wand, ready to blast it, but before he could finish his spell, he felt as if someone had driven a red-hot poker into his forehead. He threw his head back, screaming with pain as blood spurted from his scar. He didn't even realize he had fallen to his knees, nor did he see the elemental close in. He was still screaming, unable to do anything, when the thing started to engulf him.

"Did you hear that? Unless my ears deceive me, one champion just found his end. So close… and yet so far, now."

The genie was gloating, but Hermione wasn't listening. She knew that voice, even if she had never heard it scream like this. And her torc was warm. Harry! She jumped up without thinking, wand in hand, while her chair clattered to the ground behind her. He needed her help! She turned to the tunnel among the three leading here that the scream had come from.

She didn't get far, the barrier around the stakes stopped her, to the amusement of the foul genie. His cackling laugh made her want to hurt him, kill him even. Harry was suffering, and that monster found that amusing? She had her wand pointed at the barrier, almost trying to break it, despite the knowledge it would be futile. When she lowered her wand instead, and pressed her hands against the barrier, looking at the tunnel she knew Harry was in, tears of frustration and anguish running down her cheeks, the genie laughed louder.

Barty Crouch Jr. was on his knees, panting with exhaustion, covered in blood - his, and Mykew's. The potions he had taken an hour ago were starting to end, and he was feeling the damage the ritual had done to his body, the pain growing with each breath he took as his blood was leaking through the holes the runes on his skin had left when they were consumed by the ritual. And yet he was filled with rapture. In front of him stood his master, restored to life. Larger than life, handsome, powerful, a wizard in his prime. Shiny black hair framed an aristocratic face, and the body… fitting for a quidditch star. He was perfect!

Struggling with the effort, Barty pulled out the Dark Lord's wand, taken from a cache he had been guided to months ago, and held it out. His Master looked at it, and it flew to him, landing in his hand. A moment later he was wearing a robe, blacker than night, and tailored to his new form. Magnificent.

Barty was still smiling, caught in ecstasy despite the horrible pain wracking his body, when he started to topple over. Before he lost consciousness he felt his Master's magic catch him, preventing him from touching the ground.

Harry was surrounded by earth. If not for the bubblehead charm he had cast to pass through the poison, some time back, he'd have suffocated - or rather, the portkey he was carrying would have activated. His scar was still hurting, bleeding too, but the visions of blood, death and a crazy wizard turning a baby into a snake and then into an adult man had stopped. He could not dwell on whatever that had been though, he had to reach Hermione.

He realized the elemental had engulfed him. Was about to crush him. He couldn't move his limbs, but he still was holding his wand. For all the good it would do to him - he wouldn't be able to move it enough to cast. For a moment he was ready to give up. He had done what he could. Then rage filled him. Nothing, no one would stop him! He screamed into the earth surrounding him, holding him prisoner, wishing with every fibre of his being to smash his bonds, to break free. He would not be defeated!

A shield sprang up around him, pushing the earth elemental holding him back. Far enough so he could cast. Grinning, he started to transfigure the animated earth holding him into sand. Soon the floor was covered with fine grains of sand, and what was left of the elemental was fleeing. He almost chased after it, wanting to destroy that thing for daring to attack him, but realized that Hermione, his Hermione was waiting for him, needed him. Panting, he staggered onward. His spelled yarn was gone, but he was certain she was just ahead. He knew it.

"Hermione!"

Hermione gasped, relief - Harry was alive - mixing with horror when she saw just how hurt he was. His robes were in tatters, he was covered with mud, dust, sand and blood. So much blood. He was stumbling more than he was walking, and his glasses were bent. And his eyes… wide, bloodshot, and so intense… "Harry!"

"Ah, one brave champion managed to reach me! But will you be able to overcome me, as beaten as you are?" The genie was cackling at Harry. "Or will you try to make a deal? Maybe ..."

Whatever the genie had been about to offer Hermione would never know. Harry turned towards the creature, snarled, and blasted it into the stone wall with so much force, it left a small crater. Hermione stared. That had been an expelliarmus. A very, very powerful one.

Her friend staggered towards her while she was pressing herself against the barrier. "Harry!" He looked like he'd collapse any second. The barrier disappeared as soon as he touched it, and he fell into her arms.

She didn't know how long they remained like that, kneeling, holding each other, crying into each other's shoulder. Harry was alive. He had come for her. But he was hurt! He needed help! She started to stand up, pulling her friend up with her. The door was right there. Healers would be waiting outside.

The door was glowing - the seals were broken. Just a few steps. Behind her, she heard the genie groan. Served the foul creature right! Then the words registered.

"The task is over, the deal done. I am free now. As planned."

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him smile cruelly, and pull out a red egg. Her eyes widened when the egg began to glow and he pulled its arm back to throw it.

Hermione cast a Shield Charm and spun around, protecting Harry with her own body as she pushed him towards the door. The egg hit her shield just as the door opened, shattering it, and she felt the the protection spells on her robe flare up when fire engulfed her.