The Other Champion

Chapter 9: The Third Task

Author's Note: I have nothing much to say here, to be honest. I hope you've read the author's note at the end of the previous chapter – please do so if you haven't. I also hope you all enjoy reading this chapter, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Many thanks, once again, to Dorothea Greengrass for beta-reading this chapter, and for giving me ideas for various little things in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.

Previously on "The Other Champion"…

But suddenly, in the clump of trees behind them, Cassius heard something move. Struggling against the pressure of Mr Crouch on his robes, he tried to turn around, wondering how Potter was back so soon.

A jet of red light shot out from the trees, hitting him squarely on the shoulder. Cassius slumped to the ground, unconscious.

He had not heard who had cast the spell, nor did he know which spell had been cast.

But as he fell onto the ground, a distinct noise reached his ears – something that sounded vaguely familiar…

Clunk. Clunk.

'Are you sure that's what you heard?'

'Terence, if you ask me that one more time –'

'I'm just checking!' came the hasty response.

They were in the Slytherin common room, occupying their usual chairs in the more secluded corner near the fire. Despite the isolation – and the fact that they were sixth-years, and were not likely to be bothered by anyone else – Iris had cast a slightly modified Silencing Charm that ensured that their conversation would not be overheard.

It was the day after the Triwizard champions had been shown the maze for the third task, and Cassius had been Stunned by an unknown assailant in the forest, while waiting for Potter to return with Dumbledore and assist an insane Mr Bartemius Crouch. By the time he had been revived by the Headmaster, however, his assailant had vanished, but so had Mr Crouch.

Dumbledore had sent him with Hagrid straight to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey had insisted he spend the night. He did not argue – not when the wild-looking half-giant gamekeeper was standing there, ensuring that he followed the Headmaster's instructions. He had returned to his Slytherin dormitories just in time for his classes earlier that morning, which resulted in the discussion of the previous night's events taking place later in the evening.

Iris frowned thoughtfully, her head resting on Cassius' shoulder. 'Why would Moody want to Stun you, though? Doesn't make sense.'

'We don't know if it was Moody who did Stun him,' Adrian pointed out, taking a bite out of an apple. He gulped it down, then said, 'All we know is that he was there, and that he turned up later to help Dumbledore find Mr Crouch.'

'Yes, but…' Terence trailed off. 'Why would Moody be there in the first place?'

'He's paranoid?' said Adrian. 'He probably took a stroll around the grounds to see if anything was amiss – I dunno.'

Iris gave him an odd look. 'That doesn't make sense, Adrian.'

'I'm not saying it does, Iris – it's just a possibility.'

'A possibility that doesn't make sense.'

'Actually,' said Terence, overriding both Iris and Adrian, 'Cassius isn't even sure if he heard Moody's wooden foot there – are you?'

Three pairs of eyes focused on Cassius, who shrugged.

'I may have been mistaken,' he admitted.

'See? It could've been anyone,' said Terence in a triumphant tone.

Adrian looked at him. 'What's your point?'

'I have no idea, to be honest,' said Terence with a cheeky grin.

Adrian scowled, and threw his apple core at him; Terence dodged it, and sniggered.

'Weren't you supposed to be a Chaser?'

'Shut up.'

'Quit it, you two,' said Cassius, and they fell silent.

Iris was sporting a thoughtful expression; she looked sideways at Cassius from her position on his shoulder and asked, 'Remind me what Crouch was saying again?'

Cassius sighed. 'I told you, he said the Dark Lord was getting stronger.'

The four of them exchanged significant looks. Despite being a member of Slytherin House, they were part of the handful minority who did not wish for the Dark Lord to return to power.

'And…?'

'And that the death of someone called Bertha was his fault. Oh, and his son was his fault too, although I have no clue what he meant by that. I didn't even know he had a son.'

'He was caught with the Lestranges,' said Iris softly.

Cassius gaped at her; so did Adrian and Terence. They had certainly not expected this: Bartemius Crouch's son – a Death Eater?

'The Longbottoms?' asked Terence.

'Yes,' said Iris. 'Father told us about it last summer. Crouch threw his own son into Azkaban. Died within a year, apparently.'

'So he blames himself for his son turning out to be a Death Eater?' asked Adrian. 'Noble of him, I'd say.'

'Crouch was a workaholic, he rarely spent time at home,' said Iris. 'People said his son went astray because of that.'

Adrian raised his eyebrows at that, but did not comment.

'You said he kept saying Potter's name too,' said Terence.

Cassius nodded in agreement. 'He said it twice, when he was blabbering about the Dark Lord getting stronger… The rest of the time, he was talking to a tree, addressing someone called Weatherby.'

Terence sniggered. 'Who names their child Weatherby?'

But the question had caused Cassius to remember something. 'He'd spoken about Weatherby before,' he said, as the details from that night came back to him. 'It was in the chamber off the Great Hall, right after we'd been chosen as champions.'

The rest of them gave him an odd look. 'What did he say about this…Weatherby?'

'Erm…he said he'd left him in charge, and…and that he was quite enthusiastic.'

Iris, Adrian, and Terence stared at him.

'Well, that doesn't help much,' said Terence.

'No, I don't suppose it does,' said Cassius.

They fell silent. Iris broke it a minute later.

'When he was talking to the tree…he kept thinking his son was alive?'

'Yeah,' said Cassius. 'His son and wife – something about his son getting twelve O.W.L.s, and attending a concert with Mr and Mrs Fudge…'

Once again, the four of them exchanged odd looks. None of the others knew what to say to that.

'Do we know what happened to Crouch, then?' asked Terence at last.

Cassius shook his head. 'Potter told me neither Dumbledore nor Moody could find him.'

He had managed to track Potter down after lunch that day, just outside the Great Hall. His friends, Weasley and Granger, had also been there, and were surprisingly open to conversing with him about the entire matter. He supposed Potter had told them about their conversation before Mr Crouch had shown up – but that would have meant telling them about his feelings towards Daphne. He doubted if Potter would have told them about that, but even so…

In any case, Potter had confirmed that Moody had not been able to find Crouch: in effect, the Ministry of Magic employee had quite simply, disappeared. Even a quick sweep of the grounds by Dumbledore had failed to turn up any positive result. It was disheartening, but there was nothing to be done about it.

As April turned into May, which turned into June, the weather grew warmer, and the grounds a lot more welcoming; unfortunately, Cassius was forced to stay indoors as he practised for the third task. The announcement that there would be creatures and obstacles to overcome in the shape-shifting maze had elicited a typical response from Iris: begin training at once.

And so it was that over the next two weeks, Cassius, with the help of Iris, Adrian, and Terence, began practising the spells, hexes, curses, and jinxes he knew for the third task. He was quite well-versed with the Stunning Spell, the Impediment Curse, and the Disarming Charms, so Iris insisted on him learning to cast them non-verbally. They were using non-verbal spells in most of their classes this year, but he had never cast these without uttering the words before.

Professor Snape had, rather generously, allowed them to use one of the abandoned dungeon classrooms during breaks, lunchtimes, and after normal classes for their practice, so that they would not be a hindrance to anyone else wanting to use a classroom. Despite the ready-made facilities available, and the help of his friends, he was still having trouble in casting a non-verbal spell.

It had come to a head one day, when Iris all but lost her temper at his inability to do so without shouting the incantation.

'C'mon, Cassius!' she had shouted exasperatedly. 'Focus on the spell – think the words in your mind, and cast it!'

She flicked her wand at an oncoming fly, and the poor insect stopped dead in mid-air.

Her anger towards him had triggered something inside of him: exhausted as he was from an exceptionally gruelling practice session, and ticked off with his failure to master the spell, he pointed his wand at Adrian – who was serving as the Stunning dummy – and all but yelled 'STUPEFY!' in his mind.

It was a combination of luck – there was a stack of pillows arranged right behind Adrian – and quick thinking on Iris' part, that had saved Adrian from getting a concussion.

'Sorry,' said Cassius sheepishly, once Iris and Terence had revived Adrian. The blonde sixth year sat up and grinned at him.

'Fair warning next time, yeah?'

Rather by accident, they had found out that even Potter had been doing a similar kind of practice routine, as part of his preparation for the third task. The four of them had decided to head early for Transfiguration after lunch one day, and had narrowly missed being hit by an astonishingly accurate Reductor Curse fired by the young Gryffindor. After profusely apologising for the close shave, and a round of introductions later, the topic had somehow diverged into a discussion about possibly practising together.

While Granger and Iris had been all for it – and had exchanged high-fives, much to the surprise of everyone else present – Terence and Weasley had not been too keen on the idea. With Cassius and Harry having pitched the idea in the first place, the casting vote had gone to Adrian, who had looked distinctly uncomfortable as six pairs of eyes trained their gazes on him.

'Erm…' he had stammered.

They had had to wait for another minute before he could stammer out a coherent response, but it was in favour of the idea.

'I'm sorry, Terence and Weasley, but it'll help both Cassius and Potter with their training,' Adrian had reasoned.

Terence had shrugged, but Weasley still looked slightly uncomfortable. Potter had promised to convince him otherwise by the time their first practice rolled around.

The Gryffindor stuck to his word: Weasley was in a much better mood when the seven of them met up for their first joint-training session, and, with a level of maturity that astounded the Slytherins, apologised for his stand-offish behaviour the last time.

'I was a prat, and I'm sorry about it,' he said, and that was that.

Their practices progressed quicker, and a lot more efficiently, when working together. With Granger – Hermione, Cassius corrected himself, after yet another reminder from the bushy-haired witch to address her as such – and Iris acting as the brains behind the session, the number of spells they were able to practise increased, as did their quality in casting them.

By the end of their seventh daily practice, all of them were quite adept in non-verbal casting – including Terence, who had silently reduced a desk in the dungeon classroom to dust using a ridiculously strong Reductor Curse, and Ron, who, as a joke, had fired off four silent Stunners in quick succession, incapacitating the Slytherins when they had not been looking.

He had guffawed about it for five whole minutes after Hermione had revived them, but was soon struck with a Tickling Hex, Jelly Legs Jinx, and an Antler Hex by the three Slytherin boys in retaliation.

While these training sessions had, of course, helped Cassius and Harry in gaining invaluable experience and knowledge in their preparation for the third task, the others were also benefitted in more ways than one. While the two champions were practising the spells for the day, Iris and Hermione would begin discussions on complex Arithmancy problems and other issues that the brainy Gryffindor could not have had with her two best friends. Indeed, both girls could often be seen engaged in heated debates on S.P.E.W. – which all the Slytherins had flatly refused to join – or other magical theories.

The most surprising thing, however, had been Ron's volte-face in his attitude towards Slytherins; from openly despising them at the start of the school year, he was now asking them for help in his homework and revision for his examinations, that were coming up quite soon. When they were not discussing academics, the boys would revert to talks about Quidditch – Ron had found a fellow Chudley Cannons supporter in Terence, and they would often get stuck in discussions on Quidditch teams, the on-going Quidditch season, and various Quidditch plays that they had seen in matches. Adrian and Terence had been especially jealous of Ron when he had told them, rather smugly, that he had watched the Quidditch World Cup Final from the Top Box.

The time spent together had resulted in bonds of friendship developing between the seven of them, which often spilled out onto their interactions outside of the training classroom. The school had been shocked – and naturally so – when, after breakfast one day, Ron and Adrian had said a few words, grinned at each other, and exchanged high-fives while exiting the Great Hall; Cassius and Terence had almost snorted into their glasses of juice as they took in the reaction of the students, while Harry, Hermione, and Iris had laughed out loud. Draco Malfoy's face had been especially amusing – Iris had remarked that he had looked as white as the ferret he had been turned into by Moody earlier that school year.

The bond between Cassius and Harry, for that matter, was only strengthening as the days went on. They had considered each other as acquaintances at first, and fellow competitors, when the Tournament had started, but as the date of the third task drew nearer, they had become quite good friends. In fact, Cassius had become a little protective of Harry, rather like an older brother would feel for his younger sibling; the Slytherin would ensure that Harry perfected a spell, or understood the concept fully, even if it was at the cost of his own homework or learning. Indeed, the feeling had become so strong one day that Cassius had publicly rebuked Draco for insulting Harry and his friends. The blonde Slytherin had gaped, dumbstruck, at the older Triwizard champion, his eyes wide and his face flushed with embarrassment, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione smirked at him, grinned at Cassius, and headed for their next class.

Draco managed to get his voice back once the Gryffindors were out of earshot.

'Why are you even sticking up for them?' asked Draco furiously.

Cassius glared at him. 'They are my friends, and –'

'Friends!' scoffed Draco. His face twisted into an ugly expression. 'You're a disgrace to the name of Salazar Slytherin,' he spat.

'I'd rather be that, than a disgrace to Hogwarts, Draco,' Cassius fired back, unperturbed by the venom in the Malfoy heir's voice.

Cassius had also done a big favour for Harry – it turned out that Harry had not told his friends about Daphne Greengrass and their mutual attraction towards each other. As such, he, along with Adrian and Terence, had helped Harry in telling Ron and Hermione at first. As expected, they were shocked at first, especially when the real reason for Cassius and Harry's talk before encountering Crouch near the Forbidden Forest emerged; soon, however, they seemed convinced of the fact that Daphne was not evil, and genuinely cared for Harry.

Unfortunately, Cassius could not bring her to the practice sessions, as it would have attracted a lot of unnecessary – and possibly unsavoury – attention onto herself. Harry had, rather half-heartedly, agreed.

The level of camaraderie between the seven of them was unprecedented – not many people could remember a time when so many Gryffindors and Slytherins got on so well together, and still fewer people had the inclination to oppose the friendship. With four sixth-year Slytherins, the two Hogwarts champions, and the two smartest witches of the school a part of the group, no one – barring the occasional glare or outburst by Draco – wanted to say a word against them. Even the Weasley twins – who had so often targeted the Slytherins in their pranks – had left them alone, and, according to Hermione, had congratulated the Gryffindor trio for doing what they could not do.

The Professors had applauded this show of unity – Professor McGonagall had awarded them ten points each when she had dropped by to witness one of their practice sessions, for 'inter-House unity and cooperation'. Harry and Hermione had protested at that – it meant that Slytherin was getting ten points more just because they had one more member in the room – but Ron, quite cheekily, marched up to her, and handed in his Transfiguration essay on inanimate to animate objects a full two days in advance. The seven of them had half-expected her to dock points from him and assign him a detention – her mouth was thinner than it had been when she had first entered, as she perused the essay.

It was to their utter astonishment, however, that she looked up at Ron, gave him a rare smile, and awarded him an extra ten points for 'sheer cheek and intelligence'. Cassius had never seen Hermione look prouder than at that moment.

The reaction of Professor Snape, on the other hand, was, in all respects, extremely unusual. He imitated his fellow Head of House by paying a visit to the dungeon classroom one evening, two weeks before the third task. Snape walked in to shouts of 'Bombarda!' from Cassius and Harry, and luckily stepped back just in time: the Bombarding Curse was directed at two small boulders that Iris had conjured, and the debris from the small explosion flew past the area where Snape had been standing before stepping back.

'So sorry, Professor!' exclaimed Harry, as Iris and Hermione leapt up and waved their wands in a circular movement, and the debris vanished. 'Didn't see you there.'

Cassius recalled Snape's snarky remarks on the night they had been chosen as Triwizard champions, and half-expected the Potions Professor to say something rather similar, to Harry. Quite surprisingly, Snape did not say anything – at least not immediately. Cassius saw his black eyes, glittering strangely in the light from the torches inside the classroom, sweep over all of them – Iris and Hermione, who were standing with their wands drawn, Ancient Runes books lying open on a desk in front of them; Adrian and Ron, looking up from their place at another desk where Ron had been working on a Herbology essay; he, Cassius, and Harry, their wands hanging loosely at their sides, faces slightly sweaty and red from the practice; and Terence, who had been juggling four pieces of chalk in one go, and now had two pieces stuck in his hair.

The Professor's gaze reverted to the champions, and lingered on Harry, who had apologised. Cassius chanced a quick sideways glance at his friend: the boy was staring unblinkingly at Snape, his green eyes shining as well.

'Not a problem, Potter,' said Snape at last, after a few tense moments of silence. 'My apologies, my entrance was unannounced.'

Cassius saw Harry shoot him a look, one that plainly asked the question – what happened to Snape?

My thoughts exactly.

'Your wand movement is a little erratic, Mr Warrington,' said Snape, his attention now focused on Cassius. 'The arc before the jab must be wider – do not restrict it, or the impact of the spell will be reduced.'

Cassius, quite literally, gaped at his Head of House. Since when had Snape become so supportive, and full of good advice?

Iris, apparently, had no such qualms regarding Snape's behaviour. 'I've been telling him to do that for ages, Professor.'

Snape glanced at Iris, then raised an eyebrow at Cassius, who turned a slight shade of red.

'Good luck,' said Snape, and after a pause, 'both of you.' And he swept out of the classroom, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

Ron finally spoke up. 'I think we broke him.'

No one seemed to disagree with that statement.

The morning of June the twenty-fourth dawned bright and clear – so clear, in fact, that Adrian had lamented about the lack of Quidditch that year, for these were excellent conditions for a match. The sun was up and about by the time the four Slytherins arrived for breakfast, with no clouds in the sky at all.

They took their usual seats at the Slytherin table, looking up to wave at Harry, Ron, and Hermione over at the Gryffindor table across the Hall. Breakfast was a noisy affair: being the last day of examinations for everyone, and with the third task was later that evening, excitement and anticipation was running quite high amongst the students.

The post owls arrived a few minutes after they began tucking in. Cassius had half expected a greeting card, or a letter, from his parents, wishing him luck for the final task, but his family owl, Apollo, was not among the birds circling above his head. His heart sank slightly: surely they knew he was tied for first place, and would have a head-start in the maze? And if not both his parents, at least his mother could have sent him something? He could not see the difficulty in doing so – it would have taken her all of five minutes, after all.

He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts, that it took him a few moments to realise Iris had been prodding his shoulder for the last minute, an anxious expression on her face.

'What is it?' he asked, all thoughts of his parents banished from his mind.

Wordlessly, she handed over her copy of the morning's Daily Prophet to him. He took one look at the headline and cursed.

'Once we're done with this task, I'm going to make her pay,' he vowed.

He looked over Terence's shoulder – who was sitting opposite him – to the Gryffindor table, where he spotted Harry reading the newspaper, his face expressionless. Once he was done, he folded the paper and gave it to Ron, telling him something as he did so; then, he met Cassius' gaze and rolled his eyes, as if to say, 'I'm bored of this.'

Just then, he heard Draco yell across the Hall, 'Hey Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling alright? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?'

Before Cassius could retort angrily at Draco, another, softer voice beat him to it. 'Dear me, I didn't know you were so concerned about Potter's welfare, Draco.'

He looked down the table, his face splitting into a wide grin. Daphne Greengrass had arrived at the Slytherin table, just in time to hear Draco's yell; a quick skim through Tracey Davies' copy of the Prophet, had given her enough background to decipher what Draco had been so anxious to tell Harry.

The Slytherins around them sniggered, while Blaise laughed openly. Even as Draco glared angrily at Daphne, she continued, 'I mean, first it was whether he took his daily shower –' there were more sniggers now, '– then about his life at home, and now about his health?' She shook her head rather dramatically. 'It must be terrible that he doesn't reciprocate it to you, isn't it?'

The Great Hall had gone quiet at Draco's initial shout, so Daphne's retort was plainly audible to everyone, despite her soft voice. By the end of it, every single House table was awash with sniggers and giggles, before the students returned to their breakfast – or in some cases, their revision notes for the day's examination.

Cassius felt as though he could have kissed Daphne – ever since his public rebuke of Draco, the blonde had been behaving like a spoilt child, with regular reminders to everyone of the fact that his father would hear about it. He had needed to be taken down a notch or two – Cassius had desperately wanted to do so, but Daphne had beat him to it in rather spectacular fashion.

He looked at Daphne and gave her a thumbs-up, which she acknowledged with a smirk. A glance at Harry told him that the Gryffindor was as impressed as he was – Harry was staring wide-eyed at Daphne, a huge grin on his face, which only increased as they made eye contact.

In the midst of all this, they had forgotten about Draco; boiling with rage, he had drawn his wand and was trying to discretely aim it at the oblivious Daphne. 'Why, you –'

'What's going on?'

Professor Snape had swept down from the staff table, glowering at the students of his House, who fell silent at once. Cassius noticed Draco put away his wand under the sleeve of his robes.

'Nothing, Professor,' said the blonde, his face expressionless.

Snape regarded him for a moment, but did not comment; he continued down the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, and stopped next to Cassius, who looked up with a puzzled expression.

'Mr Warrington,' said Snape, 'the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast.'

Cassius frowned. Had he mistaken the time for the third task – was it going to be in the morning instead? He glanced at Iris, who shrugged, looking just as confused as he was.

'It is an opportunity to meet your family,' elaborated Snape in his slow voice. 'As you know, they have been invited to watch the final task.'

I didn't know that.

He nodded blankly at Snape, who returned it with a swift nod, and moved away. Cassius stared after her.

Have they really come?

'You should go,' said Iris quietly. 'Finish your toast and go. They'd want to see you.'

He looked at her, his mind conflicted. On the one hand, if they had come – and they would have, since Snape had said so himself – it would be a major moral and confidence boost for him; they were his family, after all. On the other hand, his father…

Iris seemed to have realised what he was confused about. She kissed him on his cheek. 'Things will be fine, I promise.'

Their eyes met again, and he felt a sudden rush of emotion towards her – something he had not felt since he had been with Sophie. And before he could even think about what he was about to say, his mouth opened, and the words came out.

'I love you.'

Iris stared at him silently. Panic arose inside him – had he broken her? Had he said the wrong thing? Was she – was she smiling?

She was: there was a huge grin on her face, and her dark brown eyes were slightly teary.

'Took you long enough, you idiot,' she whispered.

Cassius grinned goofily, while his heart and stomach leapt with joy.

'I love you too,' she said, still whispering, and leaned in to kiss him properly.

The moment was perfect; he had lost sense of time and space around him – the only thing that mattered was her lips on his, and how perfect she was for him, and how much he loved her –

'Enough of that already – get a room.'

And how he was going to kill Adrian after the latter was done with his exam.

They broke apart, and Cassius glared at his best friend, who was grinning cheekily.

'I'm sorry, did I interrupt you?' he asked innocently, while still sporting that annoying grin.

Iris giggled at the two boys. 'You should go, love,' she told Cassius, kissing his cheek again. Then, turning to Adrian, she said, 'C'mon, we've got an exam.' She stood up, smiled at Cassius, and headed out of the Great Hall. Adrian followed suit, with a wink at Cassius.

'Good luck!' Cassius called out to them, then returned to his breakfast. Suddenly he looked up, realising that Terence was still there.

'No exam for you?'

'Nah, they've got Charms. I dropped it this year, remember?'

'Oh yeah. What're you going to do then?'

Terence shrugged. 'I dunno. Probably hang around in the common room, I guess.'

Cassius nodded. Normally, he would have invited his friends to meet his parents, but today was different: he wanted some alone time with them.

Terence seemed to know what he was thinking. 'Don't worry, you go on,' he reassured Cassius. 'You need to meet them.'

Cassius nodded again, swallowing the last bite of his toast. 'Thanks, Terence. See you later.'

He stood up from his seat and made his way to the chamber off the Great Hall. The walk up there felt a little surreal – just a little under eight months ago, he had made the same journey up to the staff table and through the door to the chamber, after the Goblet of Fire had spouted his name as the Hogwarts champion. Now, he was going again, on the last day…

The chamber looked the same – paintings of witches and wizards lined the walls of the room, including the ones housing the wizened witch with a pale pointed face, and the wizard with the walrus moustache.

Viktor Krum was standing in the far corner of the room, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian, one arm around the shoulders of his younger brother. He had inherited his father's hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her parents; her little sister, the silver-haired girl whom Harry had pulled from the lake, was holding her mother's hand.

A short distance from the Delacours stood two people – a short, plump, motherly-looking woman, and a lanky boy wearing a jacket and boots made of dragon hide, an earring with a fang dangling from it, and with his long hair tied back in a ponytail. Cassius immediately recognised the trademark red hair of the Weasleys: he presumed the woman must be Ron's mother. As for the tall boy…he vaguely recalled a similar looking boy being the Head Boy of Hogwarts in his first year; if he remembered correctly, his name was Bill.

He wondered what the Weasleys were doing in the chamber – none of the Weasley children were participating in the Tournament.

Finally, he looked straight ahead towards the fireplace, where his parents were standing.

Magnus Warrington was tall and proud, with a big personality and a slightly bigger ego to match. His black hair, which was greying around the temples, matched with the dark eyes his son had inherited from him. It was these eyes, however, that proved to be the most foreboding feature of the Warrington Head of House: the intense gaze sometimes gave the impression that the receiver was being looked through, rather than looked at, and not in the friendliest manner. He had donned his best-looking dark blue robes for the occasion; clearly, he was looking to project the image of a regal man.

They say that opposites attract, and it could not have been closer to the truth with Patricia Warrington – at least when it came to physical appearance. A lovely, vivacious brunette in her youth, Patricia had only aged gracefully, managing to retain her kind face and good looks. Where Magnus seemed imposing and intimidating, Patricia appeared as a gentle and approachable woman. Somehow, though, their personalities matched like a charm – despite the outward appearance, she was a taskmaster at the very best, and could even cow her husband on certain issues. The incident with Sophie Moreau had proved that point quite well.

She, too, had chosen to deck herself up in her most fashionable robes: silver-grey satin robes which matched her eyes, silver shoes, and a red purse that clearly cost more than what it was holding in gold at the moment.

Even though he had missed them, Cassius approached his parents with a slight amount of trepidation. There was no telling what the Warringtons would do or say to each other, even in public.

'Hello, Father,' said Cassius. 'Hello, Mother.'

Magnus gave his son an inscrutable look, just as his mother opened her arms and hugged Cassius lightly.

'How are you, Cassius?' she asked him, tearing his attention away from his father to her. She cupped his cheek in her hand. 'Are you well?'

'I am, Mother,' he replied. 'And you?'

'We have seen better days,' she said, 'but we will be fine.'

His father still had not said anything – not even a 'hello'. The older Warrington continued to gaze at Cassius, as his mother began asking him about the Tournament and school.

'Give him a minute, Patricia.'

The deep baritone of Magnus interrupted his wife's questions; she narrowed her eyes, but fell silent. Cassius looked over at his father, who was still staring at him. Not for the first time, Cassius decided to be the better man.

'You look well, Father,' he remarked.

Magnus gave a short, extremely quick smirk – the kind that was noticeable to no one except the Warringtons, who knew what to expect. 'Your mother is right – we have seen better days.'

'Didn't you go to St. Mungo's?'

'The Healer there is a second-rate –'

'Your father didn't like him,' said Patricia, cutting in and cutting short her husband's words. 'He was making a fool of himself, that Healer. Didn't even know where to start from.'

'Like I said, a second-rate –'

'We get the picture, dear,' said Patricia. 'There is no need to lambast them here as well.'

Cassius smirked at his mother, as Magnus fell silent, looking slightly peeved.

Just then, a call of 'Surprise!' came from behind him; turning, he spotted Mrs Weasley, with a big smile on her face, giving Harry a hug and a motherly kiss on his cheek. The tall boy – Bill – then shook Harry's hand with a grin, saying something which caused Harry to go slightly red.

Never one for praise, that chap.

Cassius smiled as Harry continued the conversation with Bill and Mrs Weasley; Harry had told him about the Weasleys being like his second family – his first, unfortunately, being the Muggles he was staying with – so he felt grateful that they had come to support Harry in the third task. Out of the corner of his eye, Cassius noticed Fleur Delacour eyeing the ex-Head Boy of Hogwarts over her mother's shoulder, and smirked.

Someone worthy of the Veela's affection.

He turned back to his parents, who had observed his gaze and smile at Harry. He did not know if he should introduce Harry to them – for all he knew, they might not take too kindly to the Gryffindor's inadvertent selection as the fourth champion of Hogwarts, and reducing the limelight on Cassius. The fact that Rita Skeeter had made Harry out to be the only Hogwarts champion – with no mention of Cassius in the article – could have stoked the fire too.

'So that's Mr Potter,' remarked Patricia. Her tone gave nothing away as to her feelings towards the young boy.

'Yes,' said Cassius shortly. In a split second, he decided not to offer more information about Harry unless he was asked about it. In any case, there was always the post-Tournament period for introductions.

'He seems…young.'

Cassius rolled his eyes. 'He is fourteen, Mother.'

'Yes, but even so…he looks terribly underfed.'

He did not disagree with that: Harry always looked as though he was not eating enough. Of course, his oversized, baggy Muggle clothes had also contributed to that impression – a topic which he refused to discuss with anyone when it had been brought up during one of their practice sessions – but even in his robes, there was always the feeling that Harry could eat more.

Trust a mother to notice such things.

'He stays with the Weasleys?' asked Magnus in a low voice. Just like his voice, his tone did not betray his sentiments, if he harboured any at the time, towards the Weasleys or Harry.

'Sometimes, during the summers,' said Cassius. 'Otherwise, it's with his Muggle relatives.'

Magnus and Patricia raised their eyebrows at that. 'Muggles?'

They watched as the Weasleys and Harry – all of them sporting hearty grins – exited the chamber into the Great Hall.

'His mother's sister, apparently,' explained Cassius. 'He doesn't like to speak of them too much.'

'Yet, you know quite a bit about him,' observed Magnus.

Cassius hesitated. 'We…we have had interactions,' he said at last.

Cassius knew his father was no fool – he would see through the attempted downplay at once. Sure enough, Magnus' eyes narrowed, but mercifully for Cassius, he did not comment, or raise any objections.

He took the opportunity to introduce his parents to the other champions and their families. The conversations were short, formal, and rather stiff: none of the families, the Warringtons included, wanted to stay too long in the chamber; none of them wished to lose out on time with their children either.

Cassius led his parents out of the room soon afterwards, waving to Fleur and Krum as he left. Once outside, they decided to pay a visit to Dumbledore – a courtesy call, more than anything else – after which they spent time with Professor Snape, who had just completed the invigilation of the second-year Potions exam.

By the time they had finished their discussion with Snape, the lunch break had rung, so they made their way back to the Great Hall, and joined his friends for lunch at the Slytherin table. The Warringtons knew Terence and Adrian already, as the boys had come over more than once during the summers; but the fact that Iris Parkinson was dating their son was news to them.

'Father, Mother, this is my girlfriend, Iris Parkinson,' he said, introducing Iris to them before they sat down at the table.

In accordance with traditional pure-blood customs, Iris did a short curtsey to his parents, then extended her hand to shake with Patricia first. 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Warrington. Cassius has told me so much about you.'

Patricia smiled gently, her eyes flicking to her son for a fraction. 'That is very kind of you, although it would have been nice if he had told us about you, too.'

Iris gave a short laugh, but it was more out of politeness than anything else. Cassius resisted the urge to groan at his mother – did she have to embarrass him right now?

Iris extended her hand to Magnus next. 'It is a pleasure to meet you too, Mr Warrington.'

If Magnus had noticed the lack of the second sentence from Iris – that Cassius had not spoken about him to her – he did not show it. He nodded, shook her hand gently, and let go.

An awkward silence descended over the four of them, even as the noise from the background increased, as the students trooped into the Hall for lunch, celebrating the end of their exams. Cassius finally broke it, and asked his parents to take their seat at the Slytherin table next to Adrian and Terence, who greeted them cheerfully.

'Well, that went well,' said Iris, looking at Cassius.

'Could've been worse,' said Cassius. 'Mother'll ask you dozens of questions when you're at home, I'm sure of it.'

Iris gave him an odd look. 'At home?'

'Well, yeah, you will come over to visit, won't you?'

'Oh!' said Iris, as she understood. 'Oh, of course I will.'

Cassius frowned slightly. 'What did you think I meant?'

Iris let out an embarrassed giggle. 'I thought…well, I thought you meant we were moving in together.' She had turned a delicate shade of red by the time she finished her sentence.

Cassius stared at her, but then smirked knowingly. 'Already lusting after me, are you?'

'Don't push it, love,' Iris said, a little too sweetly. Cassius recognised the warning sign immediately, and backtracked at once.

'I said nothing,' he said, raising his arms in mock surrender.

'Good answer,' she said, giving him a grin and wink, and they joined his parents and friends for lunch.

They whiled away the time after lunch with a walk around the expansive school grounds and the Black Lake. Cassius pointed out the places where they had had the first task with the dragons, and the banks of the lake from which they had jumped in to rescue their hostages for the second task.

'Impressive,' remarked Magnus, as he recounted his exploits. 'Quite impressive.'

That was about as close to a compliment as he would ever get from his father, so Cassius nodded gratefully. 'Thank you, Father.'

'And the third task…it is a maze, you say?'

'Yes, it's at the Quidditch Pitch. Come, I'll show you.'

Soon, it was time for the evening feast, so they began making their way back to the Great Hall. As they approached the stone steps, however, Magnus held Cassius back. Patricia looked at the two Warrington men, but Magnus waved her on.

'Go,' he said. 'I need to speak with Cassius.'

Patricia left without comment. Cassius turned to face his father, who was staring up at the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle.

'I owe you an apology.'

If Cassius had not been looking at his father, he would have highly doubted that the latter had spoken. As it was, he was quite shocked at what he had just heard.

'Father, what –?'

'Your mother spoke to me about my actions during our last Christmas at Warrington Manor.'

Cassius froze, immediately recognising what he was talking about. He did not want to relive it – especially not today, of all days.

'Father, I don't –'

'Cassius,' said Magnus, and his son fell silent at once. Magnus looked at him. 'I was wrong to suggest that Miss Moreau be killed.'

Cassius said nothing. The words were all well and good, but it seemed to him as if they were a good fourteen months too late.

'I suppose it would have been easier if you two had split up when she left for the United States of America.'

Cassius doubted if that would have happened – although it had never come as a point of discussion, he knew he would have been willing to do a long-distance relationship with her.

'I was blinded by my rage, Cassius, and I overreacted. For that, I apologise.'

Cassius honestly did not know what to say. The apology was warranted, yes, but it was long overdue. Where was all of this eight months ago, when he had returned from Hogwarts for the summer and spent the entire time avoiding his father, and missing Sophie?

The wording of his father's apology caught his attention, however.

'You still do not approve of my choice,' he said. It was not a question.

Magnus shook his head. 'You know my stand on this, Cassius. I would not have permitted you to marry a Muggle-born, even if she was a bright witch.'

Cassius' heart sank a little. He had half-hoped for a change in his father's stance on mixing with Muggle-borns and half-bloods, but those had been dashed as quickly as they had arisen.

At least he didn't refer to her as a…that.

Small consolation.

He did not say anything – no outward acceptance or rejection of his father's apology, if one could term it as that. It made no difference to him, especially when the ultimate goal of his father had not changed.

'Miss Parkinson is a fine young woman,' his father said, after a few minutes. 'You have chosen well.'

Cassius felt a small wave of rage tide over him, and he fought to keep it under control.

'She is not a girl whom one chooses, Father,' he said. 'I am lucky to be with her.'

'Be that as it may…' said his father, who clearly had not acknowledged his son's words. 'Your union will be beneficial for both the Parkinsons, and for us.'

Cassius almost scoffed out loud at that: a union? They had barely been dating for three, four months – they were not even ready for living together, let alone a union!

A sudden gust of wind blew across the grounds, catching them unawares and causing Cassius to shiver slightly. He made a mental note to wear a cloak before heading out onto the Quidditch Pitch for the third task.

He turned to leave, but Magnus stopped him once more. 'Wait – there is one more thing.'

Cassius turned back slowly.

'I have heard rumours,' his father began, his voice quite low, 'that the Dark Lord is gathering his strength once more. The Mark is darkening as well.'

Cassius did not comment, nor did he face his father, lest his expression betray him. He had certainly heard of those rumours – from Mr Crouch's insane babbling, to Harry's statement that even Dumbledore thought so, too.

'Should he return, it would be most beneficial for all of us, Cassius.'

Beneficial? What is he thinking?

'You are seventeen already, and on the brink of winning the Triwizard Tournament. You may wish to consider –'

'– joining the Dark Lord?' asked Cassius at last, giving an incredulous expression to his father. 'You want me to join him?'

'You are now an adult, so I have no say in the matter before the Dark Lord,' said Magnus, 'but I think it would be better if you joined him voluntarily. He will, of course, wish for you to do the same…'

Cassius shook his head. 'This is insane, Father. Even if I join him – and that's a big IF – it would mean a life time of service, or death. If I don't join him, it's death – but at least I can stand for what I believe in!'

'Don't be ridiculous,' said Magnus dismissively. 'The Dark Lord would never kill you. You are a pure-blood from the noble House of Salazar Slytherin – he would never touch you.'

Cassius gaped at him. 'Are you so naïve, Father? This is the Dark Lord we're talking about – the one who tried to kill a baby! What makes you certain he would not think twice about murdering me, or Mother, or even you?'

'I am certain of it,' said Magnus, in a tone Cassius knew as his father's final, no-arguments-accepted tone. There was no way his father's opinion could be changed now. 'I urge you to reconsider your decision. We shall discuss this after the Tournament is over.'

And without saying anything further, his father strode off and climbed the stone steps to the castle, his dark blue robes billowing slightly in his wake. Cassius remained at his place, his mind fuming, before following his father.

He is insane. This is insane.

I think we've established that fact pretty clearly by now.

How does he expect me to join the Dark Lord? How can he? And he thinks it would be beneficial!

…

I can't believe him!

Let's worry about this later. You have the third task coming up in two hours – don't lose your focus.

Yes, but –

Third task. Triwizard champion. Focus.

He sighed, acknowledging the wisdom of his inner voice. He had more pressing things to focus on right now – he could wait until the end of the Tournament to discuss this.

In any case, he reassured himself as he greeted Iris with a quick kiss, and loaded his plate with food from the spread before him, he only needed to worry about this if the Dark Lord returned.

That's not going to happen any time soon.

The Quidditch Pitch was completely unrecognisable.

The hedges were now twenty feet high, and ran all the way around the edge of the Pitch, where it met the spectator stands. There was a gap in front of where they stood: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy. Every now and then, a gust of wind would blow across the maze, and they could hear – rather than see – the pattern of the hedges changing in tandem.

Cassius looked around, his heart thumping in his chest, and his stomach doing odd flip-flops. This was it: months of effort, preparation, and competition came down to this one final act. It would all be over once he got through the maze. Even if he did not win – although he still harboured hopes of that happening – it would be over, and things would be back to normal. He would be able to spend time with Iris, focus on his N.E.W.T.s (although that was not the most exciting prospect), play Quidditch with his friends…

Iris slipped her small hand into his larger one, and gave it a squeeze; she then rested her head on his shoulder. Cassius smiled, grateful for the comfort.

The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Professors Hagrid, Moody, McGonagall, and Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached the champions, and Ludo Bagman, who was standing with them. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their vest, all except Professor Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

'We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze,' said Professor McGonagall to the champions. 'If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?'

Cassius and the others nodded.

'Off you go, then!' said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers.

'Good luck, Harry,' whispered Professor Hagrid, and the four of them walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. Cassius watched Moody as he went, his wooden foot making its distinctive clunking noise. Had it really been him – had he, Cassius, heard that sound two months ago, when he had been with Mr Crouch? Had Moody been the one to Stun him?

He had no time to ponder on these questions, however: Bagman was giving them a minute to get their good-luck wishes, before moving them a step forward, for better visibility from the stands.

Iris engulfed him in a fierce hug. 'Come back to me, safely,' she whispered. Cassius noticed that her hands were trembling slightly.

'I will,' he told her. He pulled back, placed his hand under her chin, lifted her face, and kissed her. It was not like the usual steamy, romantic kisses they had shared before – this was one laced with reassurance, hope, and an unspoken promise.

I'll be back. Don't worry.

They broke apart, and, after another embrace, Iris stepped away. Her eyes were full of worry, but she gave a tremulous smile, then headed for the stands to sit next to Adrian, Terence, and his parents. Cassius dimly noted that even Daphne and her two friends, Zabini and Davies, were seated in the row just behind Adrian.

He moved forward to the place indicated by Bagman, and was joined by Harry, Fleur, and Krum. All of them looked visibly nervous.

Bagman pulled out his wand, pointed it at his throat, muttered, 'Sonorus', and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

'Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-seven points each – Mr Cassius Warrington and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!' The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. 'In second place, with eighty-four points – Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!' More applause. 'And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!'

Cassius saw Harry waving up at Mrs Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione, who had been applauding Fleur politely, halfway up the stands.

'So…on my whistle, Harry and Cassius!' said Bagman. 'Three – two – one –'

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Cassius and Harry entered the maze to thunderous applause from the stands.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze. Cassius had the unnerving sensation as though he were underwater again. He pulled out his wand and muttered, 'Lumos', just as Harry did the same.

After about fifty yards, they reached a fork. They looked at each other.

'Stay safe, Harry,' said Cassius.

'You too,' Harry replied, and took the left fork. Cassius watched him go for a moment, before taking the right path.

He plodded on his path, wand held high over his head so that the light from its tip spilled out in front of him, illuminating his steps. The whistle sounded again, indicating Krum's entrance into the maze. He took a left at the next fork, then a right…then another left, and one more left – and hit a dead end. Cursing, he retraced his steps back to the previous turning, and took the other path.

And almost ran into an Erumpent.

Just my luck.

The large beast, thankfully, was facing away from him; its long, rope-like tail was swishing from side to side as it grunted and snorted at something in front of it. Cassius knew just enough about Erumpents to have the presence of mind not to provoke it. Oh, and never touch its horn.

Carefully and quietly, so as to not startle the beast, he crept along the edge of the path. Brambles and branches from the hedge pricked and prodded at his side; he could feel his robes getting caught, and more than once, he had to tug fiercely to get himself loose.

After what seemed like ages, he reached the other side of the path, beyond the Erumpent. He looked back, catching a glimpse of its pulsing horn and tiny eyes, before hurrying up the path, and taking the next left turn.

Bagman's whistle sounded for the third time: Fleur Delacour had entered the maze at last.

After about fifty yards, a sudden gust of wind blew across, buffeting his robes and making him shiver. He looked around him, wondering where the wind had come from, when suddenly, a low, rumbling noise reached his ears, coupled with breaking branches and crumbling twigs…

He turned back, just in time to see the hedges behind him begin to merge together, closing the entrance to the path.

Bugger.

Cassius, quite literally, sprinted for his life: the end of the path was still a good hundred yards away – he ran, even as the hedges closed up behind him at an alarming rate – fifty…forty…twenty…

He reached the end just as the last hedges of that path joined together, effectively sealing it off. He checked his person – his wand was still in his hand, but his robes were a veritable mess: they were torn and ripped at the shoulder and chest areas; he could feel a spot near his abdomen where a particularly sharp bramble had pricked him – sure enough, a trickle of blood was dripping from the wound.

He cursed, pointing his wand at the spot and saying 'Episkey'. The wound resealed itself, and the bleeding stopped. It was not much, but it would have to do.

He looked around – where there had been four other paths to go on, there were now only two to choose from. He placed his wand flat on his palm, and whispered to it, 'Point Me'.

The wand spun around in his palm and pointed to his left, into solid hedge. That way was north, and he knew that he needed to go northwest for the centre of the maze, where the Triwizard Cup was placed.

Neither of the two paths available to him, however, were heading northwest-ward: one was east, straight ahead of him, while the other was south-west. Considering his options, the best he could do was to go east, and then hope to go left and backwards as soon as possible.

He hurried forward, wary of a sudden potential change in the shape of the maze, that could possibly trap him. He had not gone more than ten yards, however, when a scream shattered the silence.

A very feminine scream.

Fleur Delacour.

He ran forward, jumping over twigs and branches strewn across the ground – remnants from the last shift of the maze. The scream appeared to have come from somewhere on his left – quite close, in fact. The next fork, mercifully, had a path veering to the left, which he approached – slowly, at first, but once the light from his wand showed him that it was clear, he sprinted along as quick as possible.

He turned the next corner, and came face to face with Sophie Moreau.

Cassius froze in shock. What was Sophie doing here, in the maze, of all places?

'Sophie?' he asked, his voice shaking and panting slightly. 'What're you doing here?'

She did not answer at once. After a moment, she raised her right hand slowly, and pointed at him.

'You lied to me,' she said. Her voice was scratchy, as though it had been unused for a long time.

'I – what?'

'You lied to me!' she said, even louder this time. She began walking towards him; he stepped back a few paces, completely flummoxed.

'What's going on?'

'I hate you! I HATE YOU!'

He stumbled, landing on his back on the hard ground; she was almost on top of him; her hand plunged into her – robes?

Sophie never wore robes – not if she could help it.

He looked up, and instead of Sophie, saw Iris' face, twisted into an ugly, nasty expression.

'Iris?'

And then it hit him.

It's a Boggart!

'Riddikulus!' he said, thinking of the joke Terence had shared with him not two days ago.

The Sophie-Boggart immediately transformed into a bright green leprechaun, which began dancing impishly, and uttering hilariously crude words. Another round of the curse, and the Boggart vanished in a wisp of spoke.

Cassius slumped backwards, his head finding the hard ground below, and took a couple of deep breaths. He had not encountered a Boggart in a really long time – his fear seemed to have changed since then, to Sophie accusing him of lying, which then warped into Iris declaring that she hated him.

My worst fear.

He sat up, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robes. Looking around, he noticed another two paths to go on, apart from the one he had just come on, and the path from which the Boggart had emerged.

It hit him suddenly that he had not been able to locate Fleur – there had been utter silence after her scream, except for his encounter with the Boggart. Was she alright? He had forgotten the exact direction to where he had assumed the scream to have come from – try as he might, he could not recall it, not when another, more important thought crossed his mind.

One champion down. More chances of winning this thing.

He stood up and used the Four-Point Spell again – it told him he had to take another left turn, which he did. He felt a bit exhausted: the experience with the Boggart had affected him mentally more than physically, and it had taken its toll.

And so, he trudged along, using the Four-Point Spell every now and then to make sure he was on the right track. Twice he ended up in dead-ends, and had to backtrack to use another route; twice more, he was forced to run as the maze shifted again, the hedges closing up behind him.

Finally, he reached a more direct path that would lead him to the centre of the maze. He raised his wand a little higher, only for the light from its tip to land on the paws of – was it a lion?

He raised his wand higher, and realised that it was not a lion, but a sphinx. It had the body of an overlarge lion, yes – its clawed paws and tufted tail were proof of that – but its head was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon him as he approached. She was not crouching to pounce, but was pacing from side to side, blocking his path.

Cassius had never met a sphinx before, but he had read about their penchant for riddles, and deadly prowess in defending their treasure. He had no doubt that the treasure in this case was the Triwizard Cup.

The sphinx spoke to him in a deep, hoarse voice.

'You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me.'

Cassius frowned. 'I doubt you would move so easily.'

She gave him a mysterious smile. 'Your doubt is well-founded. You must first answer my riddle correctly. Answer on your first guess – I let you pass. Answer wrongly – I attack. Remain silent – I will let you walk away from me unscathed.'

Cassius' stomach slipped several notches. He was good at a lot of things, but this was Iris' forte, not his.

He looked back at the path behind him. It had been a long straight walk from the previous fork, and it was the most direct route to the centre. He supposed he could simply walk back without hearing the riddle, and try to find an alternative route, but he was running out of time…

Worth the risk.

He turned back to sphinx. 'Okay,' he said. 'Can I hear the riddle?'

The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

'In a marble hall white as milk

Lined with skin as soft as silk

Within a fountain crystal-clear

A golden apple doth appear.

No doors there are to this stronghold,

Yet thieves break in to steal its gold.'

Cassius gaped at her.

What on earth…

'Could I have it again, a bit more slowly, please?' he asked her, tentatively.

She blinked at him, smiled, and repeated the riddle.

'Okay, so you're looking for something that's being described in this riddle?'

She merely smiled her mysterious smile; Cassius took that as a 'yes'. At his request, she repeated the first two lines.

'A marble hall…that could be Gringotts,' Cassius muttered, 'no, that isn't my guess, hang on…marble hall, lined with skin? That's not Gringotts, then… Could I have the next clue, please?'

She repeated the next two lines of the riddle.

'Within a crystal-clear fountain, hmm… Golden apple – where would a golden apple come from in a fountain? That doesn't make sense… could I have that last bit again?'

She gave him the last two lines.

'So no doors…but they break in to get the gold…Hang on…'

The sphinx was eyeing him, her smile still as mysterious as ever.

'If it's not a building,' Cassius said slowly, 'it has to be an object – something that's white, and that needs to be broken to get the gold inside…'

Cassius suddenly smirked. 'Is it an egg?'

The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass.

Cassius grinned at the sphinx, and ran ahead along the path. He hit another fork – 'Point Me!' he said hurriedly, and his wand directed him to the one on the left – then a right, another left, and yet another left…

There was light ahead.

The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away.

He dashed forward, running as quickly as he could – eighty, seventy yards away…it was still there, it was not a mirage, not a trick, he was going to get there, fifty yards to go – he was almost there – thirty, twenty…

'Scandalio!'

The Trip Jinx caught him in the ankles – he fell, luckily, on his side, for he had turned sideways at the sound of the spell – he rolled and skidded, feeling the scrapes on the side of his arm and leg – slightly dazed, and in pain, he looked up to the visage of Viktor Krum.

'Wow, you really know how to play dirty, don't you?' asked Cassius. Krum did not respond – he was staring down at Cassius, as the latter gingerly sat up, checking the scrapes on his arm.

In a sudden movement, Cassius pointed his wand at Krum. 'Expelliarmus!'

His aim was poor – Krum still held onto his wand – but it did the trick: the Bulgarian was blasted back ten feet into the hedge. Cassius took the opportunity to stand up, even as Krum did so, too, his eyes a little blank and unfocused.

Hang on – blank? Unfocused?

'Crucio!'

The curse hit Cassius without warning – it was as though white-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin – the pain was so intense, all-consuming – he was screaming loudly, more than he had ever done so in his life – it hurt so much, so much…

'Stupefy!'

The curse was lifted; Cassius lay there on the ground, shaking and twitching…then he realised he was panting, as though he had flat-out run a mile…he tried to sit up, but was unable to; he raised his shaking hands over his face…

Another pair of hands grabbed his own and uncovered his face. 'Are you alright?'

Cassius looked up into the concerned face of Harry; his green eyes were glinting in the light from the Triwizard Cup. Cassius looked him over – his robes were ripped as well, and muddy; one hem of it was smoking, as though it had been caught in a fire.

'Yeah,' Cassius panted slowly, 'yeah, I think so…'

'Can you get up?'

Cassius shook his head, and even that felt like he was using an extraordinary amount of energy. He slumped back onto the ground, his hands over his face again.

'Bloody hell,' he muttered.

A few minutes of silence passed before Cassius stopped shaking, and could sit up once more. He was a little surprised to see Harry still there, sitting beside him.

'I don't believe it,' said Harry shortly. 'I thought he was alright.'

Cassius blinked, and in that instant, he recalled the blank look in Krum's eyes.

'He was cursed,' said Cassius; Harry looked at him in shock. 'He was cursed too – Imperiused.'

'You're sure?'

'Positive. I've seen that blank look before, I…' he trailed off, not wanting to reveal where exactly he had seen a similar look.

'I've seen it too,' said Harry. 'Moody put it on all of us during one Defence class – all of my friends' eyes went blank and unfocused.'

'Exactly,' said Cassius.

They fell silent. The Triwizard Cup twinkled and glowed on their left. Cassius saw Harry looking at it, an unreadable expression on his face.

'You should take it,' he said.

Cassius stared at him.

'You should take it,' Harry repeated. 'You reached it first.'

'I'm fifty feet away, Harry,' retorted Cassius. 'I think it's pretty obvious who reached it first.'

Harry shook his head. 'I was further out from the Cup when I heard Krum. I came through a hedge.' He jerked his thumb behind them; twisting around, Cassius could see a small hole which Harry had presumably climbed through to get to him.

'Doesn't matter,' said Cassius. 'You've saved my life here, you should take the Cup.'

He did not know why he was being this noble and magnanimous about the whole thing. He supposed it was the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse – maybe his brains were addled – but he felt Harry deserved the win more than he did.

And you called him noble in the second task. What a hypocrite.

'You deserve it more than I do – you did brilliantly in all the tasks,' Cassius told him.

'I had help, with both of them,' said Harry. 'I got help for the dragons in the first place.'

'And I got help for the egg too.'

'We're square, then,' said Harry, staring at him. Cassius did not meet his gaze.

What are you doing?!

Being the better man here.

Are you daft? The Cup is right there – go for it!

'You did better than me in the lake – you should have got full marks, and the lead.'

Harry gaped at him. 'I was the only one thick enough to take the song seriously!' he all but shouted. 'What are you even arguing about, Cassius? You've wanted this for ages!'

Cassius shook his head, his resolve steadfast. He was not going to be the winner. Harry had beaten him in all the tasks – he would have, if Karkaroff had not been extremely biased about his scoring. The Gryffindor deserved it.

'I'm not the champion here, Cassius, you are! Hogwarts champion! Stop being a prat and take it!'

'No.'

The word seemed to echo in the path around them. Harry continued to stare at him, an exasperated expression on his face.

A minute later, however, his look changed into one of determination.

'Both of us.'

Cassius started. 'What?'

'We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it.'

Cassius stared at him. Was he saying what he thought he was saying?

'A Hogwarts victory?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Yeah…we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. We'll take it together – a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.' He grinned at that last part.

Cassius couldn't help it – he grinned too. 'I'm tempted to say that's the best idea you've ever had, Harry.'

'Shut up,' said Harry good-naturedly. 'D'you need a hand?'

Cassius took his hand, and Harry pulled him up. His green eyes were filled with a fire Cassius had never seen before.

'C'mon, then.'

Together, they walked towards the plinth where the Cup stood, gleaming and twinkling in the darkness of the maze. Cassius could see his own reflection on one of its panels.

'Ready?' asked Harry. His hand was hovering over one of the handles of the Cup; Cassius imitated him. 'On the count of three, then? One – two – three –'

They both grasped a handle.

Instantly, Cassius felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel; his eyes widened, and as his feet left the ground, he could see Harry's similar expression reflected in the Cup. One single thought penetrated his mind as the Cup pulled them onward in a howl of wind and colour.

A Portkey.

'Where are we?'

Cassius shook his head, looking around even as he helped Harry to his feet.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously travelled miles – perhaps hundreds of miles – for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Cassius could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cassius looked down at the Triwizard Cup, which was lying at their feet, twinkling innocently.

'Did anyone tell you it was a Portkey?'

Harry shook his head. 'Nope.' He looked around the silent graveyard. 'Is this supposed to be part of the task?'

Cassius looked around too – it was too quiet and eerie to be a normal setting for the task. Plus, if it were part of the task, there had to be some Ministry official around, especially since they were no longer on the school grounds.

'No, this isn't part of the task,' he said at last. He drew his wand. 'Wand out, Harry.'

Harry pulled out his wand, too.

'We need to get out of here,' declared Cassius. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. 'We need to get back to Hogwarts.'

'How, though?' Harry asked, his voice shaking slightly. 'D'you know how to Apparate?'

'Nope,' said Cassius. He squinted through the darkness in the direction of the church. 'Maybe we can ask someone there.'

'Okay,' said Harry, a bit of relief creeping into his voice.

A sudden noise stopped them in their tracks. It seemed to be coming from between the graves in the distance, in the direction of the house. Cassius muttered 'Lumos', raising his wand slightly to better illuminate the source of the noise.

It was a person – by the looks of it, they were carrying something in their arms; they drew steadily nearer as they walked between the mass of graves. The person was short, and was wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. As they came nearer, the 'something' in the person's arms seemed like a baby – or was it a bundle of robes?

Cassius looked sideways at Harry, who was sporting a confused, but apprehensive look.

'Who's there?' asked Cassius, his voice sounding a lot stronger than he felt.

The figure did not respond, but continued to come nearer. The light from Cassius' wand did not penetrate the hood, or the bundle in his arms – it was as though an Obscuring Charm had been placed over them.

But as Cassius moved his wand slightly to the left, the light fell upon a marble headstone, just six feet away from them. Cassius blinked, then frowned at the name upon it.

TOM RIDDLE

Cassius heard Harry gasp in horror. The figure was still a good fifteen feet away from the headstone…

'Harry? What –?'

'We need to leave, Cassius!'

Cassius had never heard his friend sound this urgent and fearful before – it made him worried, too. He glanced back at the approaching figure – now only ten feet away…

'What's going on, Harry?'

Without warning, Harry fell onto his knees, his free left hand moving to his forehead – his scar. Almost instantly, Cassius made the connection.

The Dark Lord.

'Harry, get out of here!' Cassius yelled, as he raised his wand. 'Stupefy!' he shouted, aiming the spell toward the figure.

With surprising agility, the figure raised a wand of his own and batted the curse away. Harry was still on his knees, moaning in agony – his wand had slipped out of his fingers –

Cassius flicked his wand, silently sounding out 'Impedimenta!' in his mind, and this time, the figure was hit – it stopped in its tracks, unable to move, as though it had become a statue…

Cassius rushed to Harry's side, crouching, and trying to pull him up, but the Gryffindor refused to budge – either that, or he was unable to. He continued to groan in pain, both his hands covering his forehead now –

The sound of movement reached Cassius' ears before he noticed it out of the corner of his eye – the figure had overcome the Impediment Jinx, and was now coming closer to the pair of them – it was near the marble headstone now –

Cassius raised his wand, but a voice – a high, cold, cruel, voice – spoke, and he hesitated…

'Kill the spare!'

Still crouched beside Harry, Cassius saw the figure raise a wand, swish it, and yell the words into the dark night –

'Avada Kedavra!'

A flash of blinding green light, a rushing sound, as though a vast invisible something was soaring through the air…

Terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes.

Cassius Warrington was lying on the ground beside him, wand still clutched in his hand - but his dark eyes were vacant, blank, and expressionless…

He was dead.

Author's Note: I'm sorry. I just – I'm so sorry.