Chapter 9: The Third Task, An Unexpected Ally and a Parting
A/N: reuploaded to fix a minor typo, though it took from my joke so...maybe not so minor. Thank you polarbear20000 for pointing it out.
Life carried on for Harry and company, with most evenings continuing as before.
The School was as fickle as before, with their collective guilty feelings fading far too quickly, and most of the school decided to support him now that he had proven that he had not cheated to enter the Tournament. They did not do so because they felt any loyalty towards him (if they had any of that they wouldn't have turned on him in the first place) but because he was ahead in points.
They also didn't realise in their willful ignorance, that Harry didn't give two shits about them.
Of course, there were still outliers to the main consensus. On one end of the spectrum was his slowly growing list of allies, friends and allies of allies. They were all loyal out of necessity, motivated by self-interest or had genuine affection for him.
On the other end of the spectrum, in order of threat level from least to most, there was Ron Weasley and a few hardcore dissenters (oddly, for Ron's proclivities anyway, they were mostly Hufflepuffs and Slytherins) that were loudly proclaiming that he was both still a cheater and used dark magic to trick the oath and the Goblet.
In short, they were idiots.
Then there were the rich dark aligned families, almost all suspected or 'imperioused' Death Eaters who were wary of Harry beginning to take his first political steps into the shoes of his Grandfather Charlus. They well remembered, or were told stories of the uncompromising man and didn't want another thorn in their side like that. They were also concerned by his apparent skill, if not the breadth, in magic but also heartened to learn from their families at Hogwarts that he appeared to be largely a loner and seemed to have a frosty relationship with the Headmaster as of late.
Then, simply from proximity to him, there were the surviving Nott and Malfoy Heirs. No one could prove that it was Harry who had killed their parents, no one could even say that they had died attacking the Grangers without drawing attention to things that they would rather not. In fact, no one could prove where Harry was, though the strength of Hogwarts wards would indicate that he had done nothing as Dumbledore was well known to abhor killing and wouldn't have allowed the deaths.
Still, they both blamed him and watched him like hawks stalking a rabbit whenever he appeared in their radius. They were clearly waiting for a time to strike when it could not be linked back to them and that was made all the harder when few could find Harry.
Of course, then there was Dumbledore himself.
Harry had no idea quite where to place the man on the list of threats. Granted Harry and Hermione knew some of the things that he did (as well as his obsession with Harry) and suspected him of far more than that. They would never find definitive proof, Dumbledore had been at this game in one form or another for longer than most people had been alive by this point and had learned how to hide what he was doing.
Although much could be gleaned from traces, the stretched truths, deflections and the holes in his stories. They were learning that with Dumbledore it was less about what he told you and more about what he avoided or left out.
He also watched Harry and Hermione so much more these days, more even than the two Heirs, so much in fact that you could be forgiven in thinking that he wasn't trying before. The paintings strained to catch sight of him, the air of Hogwarts thrummed in warning often and his pale blue eyes seemed to scrutinise every action they took.
He did still keep to their agreement though and for that, if nothing else, they were privately very grateful.
There was only one real major interruption to their routine, shortly before Harry was officially introduced to the maze and the knowledge that it would be the setting for the Third Task.
Gringott's had requested their presence by way of its official post.
-HPCOD-
"Hello, Bonecrusher," Harry said as soon as they were in his office. "How can we help you today?"
"Gringotts requires your assistance with… a sensitive matter."
"In exchange for?" Hermione questioned.
"A minor renegotiation of our agreement."
"What would we have to do for it?" Harry asked this time.
"As you know, irrespective of our… agreement you are one of our favourite customers even discounting all of your extracurricular activities and we, Gringotts as a whole that is, try to ensure the safety of both your money and your bloodline."
"Only because you make money using the interest of the Potter Account and the Emrys account has been used to help bolster your economic stability in the past," Hermione replied, knowing full well that it was enlightened self-interest, not sentiment, that dictated their actions.
"Of course," Bonecrusher freely admitted. If they had hoped to shock the goblin with their research into their past actions on behalf of those two accounts then they failed even as he smiled a large toothy grin. "It's always nice when an account holder appreciates our diligence and also understands the reason for it. It's rare, but it's nice."
"What's the favour?" Harry pressed knowing that one of the things that Gringotts hated the most from their customers was wasting time that could have been spent earning money. He was also calling it what it was, as a minor change to their agreement could have been negotiated by mail.
"We have one other favoured customer in Britain that we would like to protect from the fallout from what is soon to come. The easiest way would be for them to join you in your… venture."
"Who?"
Nathaniel Greengrass, Sarah Greengrass and their children Daphne and Astoria. Before you ask, they are not Death Eaters neither are their children and they never were."
"I would never think that Gringotts would ever be so lax in allowing that and bringing it to me of all people. They were never allies of either of my Houses though, so no. I cannot allow a liability like that to enter our plans at such a crucial stage as this."
"What will it take?" Bonecrusher asked, sensing an opening and assuming that a deal could be made, for the right price.
"Remove clause 221b from our agreement," Harry said and then adding, purely because he couldn't resist, "Sherlock."
"Gringotts will never give up part of our monopoly," Bonecrusher barked. "Not for any price!"
"No?" Harry queried as he was now the one who could sense a deal being made. "Then let us sweeten the deal."
"What could you possibly offer that would have us give away rights granted to us by Treaty hundreds of years ago, even on such a comparatively small scale?" Bonecrusher was clearly intrigued, judging by his face, despite the disbelief clear in the tone of his words.
Harry and Hermione took a moment to have a whispered conversation in the corner of Bonecrusher's office and they were quiet enough that not even his sensitive ears were able to pick up any distinct words from their conversation.
Eventually, the two came to an agreement and, though neither was truly happy about what they were about to offer, they agreed that it was an acceptable compromise. Also, though risky in the short term, if they pulled it off the long term benefits would be astounding.
"In return for us including the Greengrass family in our plans you will render all of the agreement null and void." Before he could protest Harry continued "In return, you will get full rights and membership in what we are offering."
"Even if I accepted that, I highly doubt that I could convince the rest of Gringotts."
"You misunderstand us," Hermione disagreed. "We are not offering it to you personally but rather Gringotts as a whole."
"Do you have any idea," Bonecrusher whispered with wide eyes and (for a goblin) a very pale face, "what you are offering? It's never been done before… a lot of the so-called Goblin Rebellions were fought over this and you are giving it away?"
"I'm not giving anything, I'm trading and it is our only offer on the table," Harry said with finality.
"Would the French allow it?" Bonecrusher asked bluntly.
"Is it illegal?" Hermione responded.
"You know it is not or you never would have offered it."
"Then they can't stop it," Harry pointed out, "providing you agree?"
"I can only agree in principle. Something like this must be ratified by both the King and the Board of Directors before it is ironclad."
"Then we have an agreement? In principle?"
"Of course we do," Bonecrusher said as if it were obvious, and even as he nodded.
It took less than a day to officially go through but, when it was, the deal was ratified and the Greengrass sisters became part of Harry's little group at Hogwarts.
The Goblin Nation, while shocked at their audacity, almost bit their hand off with their eagerness to accept. It was, after all, giving them something that no Goblin War and no Treaty had ever gotten them.
-HPCOD-
Barty Crouch Junior, as Moody, was entering the large and functional suite of rooms that became his when he joined the Hogwarts faculty.
He did so with an uncommon spring to his step that was made all the more odd by the fact that he had an artificial leg. If anyone could see him they would have been shocked but, here, in the privacy of his own rooms, he could let his guard down without drawing unwanted attention.
He was like this because it was all falling into place for both him and his Master. In his hands, which shook with barely repressed excitement, was the completed plans for the maze. They included the obstacles, creatures and even the full layout showing all of the paths.
With the problems that had occurred with the previous two tasks, these had gone through several revisions for the safety of the Champions (or so they said). Those very revisions had frustrated him as they hindered enacting his Master's plan, until now at least.
Crouch was also aware of the great lie that they were trying to pass as the truth. The risk of disfigurement and death had always been part of the Triwizard Tournament and so it wasn't fear of that which changed their plans.
They were actually concerned by the scrutiny of the many international powers. All of the judges and staff knew that they would, thanks to recent events, no longer be put off by the propaganda that passed (in the Daily Prophet at least) so regularly as accurate news especially with the few articles where they had interviewed Harry Potter that painted a far different picture of the situation.
Nor would they be put off with Dumbledore's platitudes, at least concerning how the Tournament was progressing. Delacour couldn't even stand being in the same room as the man without clearly wishing the old fool dead.
Crouch's main concern may have been enabling his Master's plan to move forward smoothly but, he did find himself wondering a few times if Sebastian Delacour could be recruited for their noble cause.
Regardless of anything else though he knew that Voldemort's plan must come to its natural conclusion. The only way, in his mind, for the Wizarding World to rise was to do so under the Dark Lord's leadership, so he too must rise no matter the cost.
The Dark Lord was a forward-thinking genius to him, almost literally a god made flesh, in many ways. This was no more apparent to him than the fact that he had been tasked to assume Alastor Moody's identity.
He was thankful for this assignment now when he had, at first, hated it because as everyone grew more paranoid and concerned they turned to him. He integrated himself into the upper echelons of the Tournament without even trying. After all, to a paranoid man who would be safer than the ex-Auror Alastor Moody?
Moody's already famously paranoid temperament actually helped with maintaining his cover as well. He was a famously reclusive man, especially after the traitors had gotten off free, and any minor discrepancies in his character could be put down to the isolation of his retirement.
After all, a new nervous tick or different word choice was hardly newsworthy after everything else that had been happening and he had been alone for so long.
There were other benefits as well.
For example, he hated Moody's eye. It got stuck, spun around in his head and frankly often gave him disturbing views of what was in his own skull. On the other hand, there were plenty of nubile sixteen and seventeen-year-old girls that he saw every day with their pert and soft flesh open, unknowingly, to his hungry gaze.
There were so many opportunities like that, to him, it almost made the eye worth it. Almost.
All of which meant that it was child's play, early on, for him to become the Security Advisor for the entire Tournament. All of that the pain, the hardships and even the unexpected pleasures leading to his Master's restoration.
It was that, after all, that let him place Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire in the first place. He was also privy to every single stage of every single task thanks to the trustworthy position that Dumbledore had placed him in.
It wasn't just Dumbledore though, almost everyone involved in the Tournament trusted him, except that traitor Karkaroff.
'Well, Potter doesn't trust me either but, then again, by all accounts, the only one he truly trusts is his girlfriend. It would be quite admirable under other circumstances and if she wasn't a filthy mudblood.'
As far as he was concerned, his greatest threat was Dumbledore and he didn't suspect him in the slightest. Even if he did, given that there were private conversations that he simply couldn't avoid, Crouch had a better understanding of the man now and knew he was nowhere near as light as he portrayed himself.
'Nothing mattered now though as the plan was truly coming together at last. It wouldn't be long before this subterfuge was no longer needed and the future could begin.'
-HPCOD-
"Everything is going to plan," Dumbledore said to Snape as they sat in his office and felt the roaring heat of the well built-up fire comfort them against the cold Scottish night.
The only other company that the two scheming men had was a very unhappy Fawkes and the cold light from the stars above them. The immortal bird watched both men in silent judgment even as he was ignored as always was during these meetings.
"Are you sure Headmaster?" Snape questioned. "The brat has more leeway now than ever before and seems to be showing a very stubborn and charismatic streak of independence."
Snape's face was reminiscent of someone who had just bitten into a particularly sour lemon. It clearly caused him some distress to even partially complement a Potter, no matter that it was in warning against something that could threaten Dumbledore's grand plan.
"A temporary state of affairs I assure you," Dumbledore said, literally waving away the other man's concerns. Even as he did so he poured them both a drink (coincidentally a very good vintage from the Potter vineyards that, now he was no longer Harry's Magical Guardian, he would never see again) from the coast of Spain. "Once the Tournament is over his freedom, as you call it, will end without much intervention from me. He must still be educated after all and his schooling will keep him the castle foremost of the year."
"What about the boy's newfound confidence? His spirit?"
"That is what the Dursely's are for and, if necessary, you."
"And what, do you suppose the Granger girl and the Dark Lord will be doing during this time?" Snape objected.
"Tom cannot be killed by any magic that I have ever come across or even heard of while in spirit form. I do not doubt that he will have a body by the end of the year, though adjusting to it and rebuilding his powerbase will likely take some time. We can move forward with our goals during that grace period and prepare Harry for his fate. As far as Miss Granger's influence goes… I do not like it but, perhaps, an accident can be arranged for the young girl."
"That insufferable know-it-all dying is something that I would happily arrange," Snape said with a dark and vindictive glee in his tone.
"She doesn't have to die," Dumbledore rebutted sharply, fully aware that he had entertained thoughts like that recently. "She merely needs to be taken out of the equation, perhaps by being sufficiently maimed."
"Understood Headmaster," Snape replied, fully intending to have her killed anyway but humouring the man for the moment. " She would have to withdraw from Hogwarts and it would be yet another way that you could integrate yourself with the foolish Potter spawn."
"Not foolish" Dumbledore corrected his confidant once again, "merely innocent of the greater world around him, there is a difference. Besides which, though he must die the Potter line doesn't have to end. Their history and blood can be preserved through a worthy vessel."
"The Weasley's?" Snape asked, fully aware of Molly's intentions for her daughter and reaffirming Dumbledore's intentions for the girl.
"Arthur is a good man that has toiled away in obscurity and poverty long enough," he admitted. "Yet another good that can come out of this necessary sacrifice."
Snape didn't comment on that as, as far as he was concerned, the fewer Potter's in the world the better. Already there were half-formed plans in his head to either stop the union between the two or kill the fetus while it was in the womb were starting to take shape in the back of his mind.
"And the Death Eater? Does he suspect that you know?" Snape asked, seeing no point in continuing that line of conversation. Dumbledore would never agree and to Snape, in this case as it was with many of his darker deeds, it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
"That he is not my dear old friend Alastair? No. Though I do confess that I am unsure which of Tom's servants it is. I am only sure that it is not Peter Pettigrew."
"Yes. He was never such a good actor and he is not powerful enough to confound the Goblet of Fire. It mystifies me how he was able to fool James Potter and his bunch of fu-"
"Severus! Those were my students, at least one of whom is now dead, please show some respect… for the dead at least."
"You don't seem to mind the younger Potter's death though," replied Severus, with a thread of barely concealed malice adding an extra depth to his words.
"It will be the greatest moment of my life, to finally see Tom Riddle defeated. It will also, paradoxically be my saddest defeat as we both know that Harry Potter is fated to die. I will have to carry the burden of that for the rest of my days but, I must do what the Greater Good demands or thousands more will die, all to the same end."
Snape looked unconvinced of the Headmasters reasoning but, from then on the conversation turned to lighter (and less controversial) things. They were confident of their plans and even though their thoughts did diverge they were sure of one thing.
Harry Potter would die.
-HPCOD-
Ginny Weasley had just finished making her special perfume and was carefully packing it away after vanishing all traces of it from the room that she was working in.
It was a delicate fragrance and filled to the brim with springtime scents. Rosemary blended with lavender, then it shifted seamlessly to the fragrance of bluebells and tree sap, the smell of freshly cut grass and the air after the rain and then it began again, cycling through each one so that each scent never settled. It was always fresh and surprising, tantalizing and enticing. It was a homemade but powerful love potion that she had made after taking advice from her mother.
She had already passed a similar aftershave, keyed to Hermione, to her brother so that he could take away her greatest competition.
'Hermione,' she thought. 'It all starts and ends with that bushy-haired, bucktoothed little bookworm bitch.'
She had once considered that girl her friend, only for her to turn around and steal her Harry away from her using, no doubt, the loose muggle morals that she was born into to jump ahead of her as if there was some sort of queue or something.
A wave of anger went through her that was so strong that she quickly had to toss the perfume into her bag rather than gently place it there before her hands clenched into fists that would have shattered the delicate vial. Her fingers were pressing so far into her palms that they almost broke her skin, let alone what it would have done to the potion that she was carrying.
'How could she? Everyone who is anyone knows that I belong with Harry. I couldn't look more like Lily Potter and the perfect companion for the Boy-Who-Lived if I tried.'
The fact that Harry might not be aroused or at least accepting of at least pseudo-incest didn't even occur to her.
She was raised (thanks to Molly's influence) with enough of the pure-blood traditions instilled in her that she understood that such things, though not spoken of in polite company, that it was taboo even if real as long as they were married. She also couldn't accept it consciously because it wouldn't fit the narrative that she had built her worldview around. Of course, she knew Harry would accept her and he would love it, there really was no other outcome in her mind.
Fate could not be ignored after all.
She simply ignored Harry's actual wishes, sure that her fantasy was reality and she also ignored the fact that she bore little true resemblance to Lily Potter. Yes, they both had red hair but Lily Potter was a bright, vivacious and kind woman. Lily was incandescent in her anger, calm under threat, brilliant and kind to a fault. All of that was there even before you took in her, admittedly fantastic, physical beauty.
Little Ginny Weasley was none of those things. She was childish, petty and vindictive. She had drive, yes, but only for her one fixation, her one goal. Instead of being academically brilliant, she was merely average. Fair on a broom but, not outstanding and rarely kind unless it served her goals. The only real selling point she had was that, if Weasley genetics held true, she would produce many children.
In short, she was a rather uninspiring and plain girl whose only skills were a certain vicious creativeness to her mind and the presumed ability to become a baby factory. She was a far cry from Lily Potter even if Harry was that way inclined which he most assuredly was not.
But, as far as she was concerned, none of that mattered as he would love her and she would continue his line as a dutiful wife should.
He just needed some encouragement.
'So Hermione knows some filthy muggle tricks, it doesn't matter. I know Harry. I have been raised on stories of the Boy-Who-Lived all of my life. I have been learning how to be the best for him since I sat on my mother's knee. I have devoured those books, absorbed every word and line until I can recite them from memory. Each page is burned into my very soul… what is four years of shallow friendship when compared to that devotion.'
Her plan was as audacious as it was simple. She would run up to Harry right after the Third Task had finished and long before the bookworm could stop her she would plant a kiss on Harry while wearing her special scent.
'She will soon be happy enough with Ron anyway. If she ends up needing to drill him into the mattress every day for the rest of her life I don't care, she shouldn't have tried to take what is mine.'
The idea that it would be fake, that it would be nothing more than magically enforced rape, really didn't pop into her mind. The obsessed girl wouldn't have cared if the thought had occurred to her because she would be well on the way to realising her lifelong dream.
She would become Mrs Ginny Potter soon and nothing would stop her.
Nothing.
-HPCOD-
It had taken a few weeks to iron out all of the small details, not to mention an Oath that neither they nor anyone in their family (as far as they were aware anyway) had any leanings towards Dumbledore's camp or the Death Eaters and Voldemort but, even before that had finished, the Greengrass sisters had been largely accepted by the group.
Soon after that, as they all had more than passing occlumency shields by now, Harry and Hermione had finally shared what had happened to them (at least in a general sense) and a few of their plans for the future.
To say that their friends were shocked would have been the understatement of the century. What they were discussing had either never been done, or hadn't been done in centuries and not in quite this way so it did take them over a week to digest the news. To be fair they also had to come to terms with the fact that their parents already knew as well, so there was that.
Through it all, for the present at least, the Goblin Nation showed their loyalty and honour by being the go-between for mail and packages.
This meeting was an uneasy one as it was their first meeting since they had broken to digest the news and, for the very first time, they were all meeting in the Room of Requirement.
"Well," said Daphne, while eyeing the Aspect of the Room in wonder even as, once again, she was in the form of Rowena Ravenclaw. "If I had any doubts about your sanity, they've been put to rest. You are batshit crazy."
"Gee," Harry replied amused, "thanks so much."
"You are welcome," she answered with a laugh.
The group were all sat around a simple circular table and the symbolism of that was very clear. There was no head, no leader in this room, no one at the top or the bottom because regardless of what anyone else thought or fate itself they were all in this together. It was also lacking in pomp and embellishments, with the idea being that rank or not, noble or not, here at least it didn't matter.
"So about.." Neville began while leaning over from across the table.
"Call it the plan, we are so close and we cannot afford any slip-ups now. If we call it that here, somewhere relatively safe, it should lessen our chances of saying it elsewhere. Outside of this room, nowhere in Hogwarts is truly safe. We might as well try and make it a habit," Hermione interrupted.
"Fine, the plan then. You do realise what you are doing, the pair of you? With what you are giving up? I don't think you'll ever be able to come back, we might, but not either of you… especially with what you are offering the Goblin Nation. Have you thought about how it will affect everyone?"
"Yes," Harry responded swiftly and sharply before softening his voice, "of course I do. Gringott's it deserved, it's only hubris and racism that stops them from getting it now. It hardly helped either my father or grandfather did it?"
"And what about everyone else?" Astoria Greengrass, the youngest of the group, chimed in.
"Fuck them," spat Hermione and even as Daphne admonished her sister who was overcome with a blush at being singled out, even as the boys chucked and Hermione rolled her eyes. She had relaxed slightly on the swearing issue, now that she had a true network of friends and was less concerned with figures of authority.
"Tori," Harry began softly and gently. "Am I a soldier?" She shook her head, "Am I the Minister of Magic?" Another shake, "An Auror?" Yet another shake, "Am I even fully in charge of my own life at the moment?"
"No," she replied, somewhat sullenly and even looked a bit resentful.
Harry felt for her, he truly did, as it was always hard to have your own illusions about the world around you shattered but, it did have to be done all the same.
"Then my first responsibility, above anything else, anyone else and beyond titles is to my family, my bloodline and then my friends. I have to do everything I can to safeguard that. Anything else… is an indulgence and it's one that I can't afford to have at the moment."
"But, we will still help won't we?" She pressed.
"We will but, only if we can do so without risking everything that we hold dear and it is feasible for us to do so."
Around the table, everyone had nodded as Astoria watched them. Granted, some did so firmly while others did the same if more softly and reluctantly.
"That's not very Gryffindor of you Harry or any of you boys or agreeing with him," Daphne teased him and, not so coincidentally, taking the focus from her sister.
"Hey!" Fred's reply was indignant though there was a definite note of humour running through it. There was also one in George's as he finished the reply on behalf of both his brother and all the Gryffindor's around the table.
"Bite us."
It was only much later and after everyone else had left that Harry and Hermione managed to get a moment alone.
"Are you sure about this?" Harry's gaze was intent as he looked at her, searching for some indefinable quality and seemed to pin her with the weight of his stare.
"Yes."
"OK."
"That's all you're going to say? Okay?"
"I trust you and I love you. If this needs to happen, if you need to be the one...then okay."
"Dobby?" Hermione called.
"Yes, Mistress?" Dobby appeared with a near-silent pop and looked at her kindly, awaiting his orders.
-HPCOD-
The day of the Final Task was here at last and Harry found himself both amused and deeply annoyed.
He was amused because it seemed that the event organisers had learned from the Second Task and enabled the audience to see what the competitors were doing by way of wizard enchanted glass. Though this was inferior to the Nation's version no matter what you enchanted it for (and by such a wide margin that it staggered the mind if you compared them) it was also relatively cheap to make, nearly free in fact, and thanks to a runic necklace they insisted he wear it would also do the job.
Four Champions, four necklaces and four very large glass screens set high into the air for everyone to see. It was easy to see that they wanted to avoid the boredom and ambiguity that had plagued parts (in some cases very large ones) of the previous tasks as well as catalogue, discuss and entertain every Champions individual action to every second of their experience in the maze.
It annoyed him for the same reason. The issue that he had now was simply that being constantly watched did limit his options and if this was any other event or competition that wouldn't have been a problem.
It wasn't though.
Clearly, whatever horrible and evil thing that was meant to happen to him hadn't happened yet and this was the last chance that Voldemort had to spring the trap on him. In so many senses that had nothing to do with winning or losing the Third Task had always been important and it was now even more so. With people watching he was… limited to what he could do and he couldn't help but feel that this fact had tied one hand behind his back.
They even had a small host of broom riders, whose sole job was to keep an eye on the Champions and intervene if there was a serious risk of mortal peril. He didn't even have a clear lead as an advantage because he was tied with Viktor Krum in first place meaning that they would set off at the same time.
It was just before the actual start of the Task, only minutes away really, that managed to appear from the crowd. It was almost as if she had appeared from nowhere but, as the crowd behind the cordon that separated the Champions from the spectators was so thick, no one batted an eye.
"Well?" He whispered, even as they managed to hug and share a few quiet words.
"Everything is done. By the way, Headmaster Dippet sends his regards," she replied. Even as she did so she managed to slip a small item into his pocket and then moved away from him.
He watched as she struggled to reach their highly visible friends who were, as one, trying to cheer him on from the top of the makeshift benches the staff had created so that everyone could get a seat.
'The Room of Hidden Things is a very useful place and not just a place to stop Tom Riddle,' Harry thought.
The rules, as it turned out, for Ravenclaw to not speak of the living were quite lax when it came to Lord Voldemort as he had technically died when he became disembodied, if only for less than half a second.
The downside to that, of course, was that Voldemort was not Dumbledore. He hadn't spent any meaningful time in Hogwarts since he was a student himself. He didn't live there or eat there and that meant that the one brief visit that he had undertaken later in life was all the limited time Hogwarts had to learn of his plans.
It would have been different, though given what he turned out to be, not better if he had been given the teaching position that he had interviewed for.
To say that the picture was incomplete would be like saying that monsoon season was a little wet. However both Harry and Hermione hoped that what they could gather would be enough to make a difference.
Harry certainly believed that they could take care of Crouch posing as Moody. This wasn't knowledge directly gained from Ravenclaw but, frankly, the Marauders Map was a pale imitation of what Hogwarts could do. It would have been nigh impossible for the man to fool the Room and, for him to even attempt it, he would have had to be aware of it anyway.
It wasn't just that though, it was indirect information from the Room, Dobby's tenacity and the occasional use of the Map. Defeating one would have been difficult, but all three? Moody hadn't stood a chance.
In fact, the reason that his friends were leaving the stands now and not visibly supporting him was that they were about to be very busy doing their part to expose the man while Hermione positioned herself to keep very careful watch on the man.
Bagman's magically amplified voice broke through his musings and he sighed quietly. The Final Task was about to begin.
Nothing would ever be the same after it.
-HPCOD-
Harry's heart pounded in his chest and, right next to him, he could hear Krum's laboured breathing as they both entered the maze proper together. Then they reached a junction with no way forward, only side exits to the left and the right.
With a half-friendly and half-smirk grin, Krum swiped his wand casually and a blasting curse went towards the hedge. It moved straight for the hedge with unerring accuracy and hit it, or tried to.
It stopped, merely a few millimetres away from the hedge wall and the air around it rippled like raging water before beginning to settle down into an effect something akin to a stone hitting a pond. Then the spell faded and the air stilled as if the spell had never been.
"It appears," the smug and magically enhanced voice of Bagman echoed all around them, "that Mr Krum didn't think that we would ward the maze against attack."
"Bagman… idiot," Krum said in broken English and scowling briefly even as he began to wave his wand over himself and muttering string after string of spells in a language Harry didn't know.
Harry tentatively reached a hand out towards the maze wall himself. When it came within an inch or so the wall reacted by turning large and ugly thorns, that had remained hidden until now and that reached hungrily for his flesh until he moved it away.
Harry knew that he should continue on, (especially as Fleur and Cedric would soon be set loose to make their own attempts) but he couldn't help himself as his curiosity got the better of him.
Before he could choose his course of action though, Krum finished his chanting. The earth came up to enfold the older Champion in a soft embrace, like it was his lover, only to fall away a moment later.
'I may like him after he showed Luna a nice time but, he can be a showy son of a bitch. He also seems to adore the art of human transfiguration.'
Where Krum had stood a second ago was a vaguely humanoid figure. Instead of being made of flesh, blood and bone he now seemed to be formed of thick bark and leaves. Even Krum's feet were changed as they now more closely resembled the roots you would find on an ancient tree.
Krum moved slowly, unsure of his new legs, and without a backwards glance to Harry, moving directly into the hedge. It didn't fight him at all as it clearly hadn't been designed to fight other plants.
Harry cursed silently. Not only was that a feat that he couldn't repeat (after all of the changes in his body he had to be careful about learning self-transfiguration but, Harry also knew that Krum had just gained a huge edge over the others… even himself.
The one and only thing that might still tip things in Harry's favour was what he knew about spells of that nature. Transfigurations like that were power intensive in the extreme and tended to have a limited duration regardless and had a large period of adjustment for those that hadn't practised them religiously. That would explain why the boy's movement was so slow and, realistically, left Harry with only one option.
Speed.
With that in mind, he reached into the pocket that Hermione hadn't touched and drew out seven knuts. He tossed the bronze currency on the ground like he was a farmhand scattering seed.
"It appears our youngest Champion has given up and is playing some sort of game with a fist full of coins."
'Fuck you Bagman!' Harry thought even as he began his own wand work with his oldest (and still resisting) foci. His second wand was hidden by being strapped in a holster and attached to the inside of his left wrist and it had been there since the beginning.
He then turned out Bagman's incessant and droning voice as he needed to focus fully on the moment.
Sweat broke out on his forehead as, though he had power enough, doing what he was on six separate coins at the same time was mentally taxing. This was especially true as, with the seventh, he was doing something different to the rest.
As they all shimmered slightly, showing that the transformation was beginning, he turned the wand to his throat and magically enhanced his voice for his next words.
"I'm not playing a game you dick! It's niffler time!"
Six of the coins turned into facsimiles of those famous creatures. Each one was far larger than its real-life template as they were slightly larger than a stocky boxer dog.
Despite the transfigurations on the six being so complex and mentally draining the final, on the seventh, was actually the hardest.
It flattened the small copper disc, expanded it until it was just large enough for Harry to stand on. Several leather leashes grew from it and immediately wrapped around the niffler's necks.
All it took after that was a compulsion charm, the occasional illusion of a golden coin in front of them (right by their feet to start) and his Niffler Chariot was ready.
"Mush. Santa has a Cup to find."
Thanks to being formed largely of his will and the heavy compulsion on them, they moved off straight away.
They didn't move through the hedges though as, as Krum had found, even if you could get through them they slowed you considerably. Rather they moved down, digging deep into the earth.
They moved so quickly that it was all Harry could do to both close the hole that they created behind him and keep the tunnel that they were making stable enough that it didn't fall on him.
Well, that and the point me spell so he knew where he was going.
When Luna (of course it was Luna) had, in her roundabout way, given him the idea for this he lamented that this couldn't be a regular thing. The power limitations aside and the struggle of keeping it stable was too much for a regular wizard, even a fully mature one.
Still, he couldn't help the image of a national underground with leprechaun gold at the end of every track and the birth of the 'Niffler Express' was a fun thought that caused him to grin like a loon on his ride.
'Plus being tunnelled through the Earth at speed powered by anything is wicked.'
Within less than a minute the transfiguration began to fail, it was simply too complex to hold six versions of the same spell, another different one and still use his wand for everything else to keep them all working in his mind.
So they rose, somewhere near the Cup and when they broke through they were merely coins again. Harry had to fall into a forward roll to break his momentum.
When he was able to stand again he learned exactly two things.
First, as kind and helpful as Harry had often found Hagrid (though he had distanced himself as a side effect of his worsening relationship with Dumbledore) even he had admitted then that he was a little strange. Now, he revised that opinion because he realised that Hagrid was utterly nuts, at least when it came to creatures. After all, even as his nifflers had shimmered into non-existence, the air where they used to be was attacked.
By what looked to be an armoured and angry crab, the size of a bloody bungalow. No one else would have thought to raise a creature, let alone think that they were in any way safe near anything else living.
The second thing was that he was barely a meter from the Cup, which was good of course, but the crab monstrosity was in the way. It was also really pissed and seemed to blame him for the fact that its fun had been taken away from it without it sinking its teeth into some bloody flesh. Worse, it blamed him and that was a big problem.
'When in doubt,' Harry thought as it reared, ready to attack him and turn him into so much fertilizer, 'kill it with fire.'
"Infalmmare," he intoned softly, not willing to risk any control issues or other problems with his old wand by casting without verbalising what he wanted. After he spoke a clear liquid spewed from his wand in a tight stream, like a very controlled fire hose, all over the creature.
It stopped in confused shock for a full heartbeat as the liquid soaked in and then before it could rear and attack him again, the liquid set itself on fire. The creature's high pitched scream as the liquid burned underneath it would stay with Harry for some time.
Still, that had cost him time and Krum (full human again) entered his peripheral vision and the other man was running full tilt for the cup and with a determined look to his face. So, he did the only thing that he could and ran as well.
Harry was closer and was ritually enhanced but Krum was a star sportsman and had a longer gait, so they were soon almost close enough to touch the Cup and neck and neck.
Harry tried to knock Krum's hand away from the Cup, but Krum's reflexes were almost as good as his and he had more practice at avoiding obstacles when he was reaching for his goal. All Harry succeeded in doing was making both of them touch the cup at the same time.
They both were forced away by portkey.
At the same time, more or less, in the castle, Harry's friends had freed Moody from his own trunk and brought him up to speed even as Hermione had performed a silent switching spell on the false Moody's flask that removed some of its contents.
-HPCOD-
When Harry landed the jostling of two people who weren't prepared for the travel made them both feel slightly dizzy and very sick. More importantly, to their present situation, it made them land badly and so they were not in a good position.
For Harry, his arm smacked heavily on the ground and very nearly wrenched his shoulder out of joint. He gasped loudly and then gritted his teeth against the sudden pain, knowing that it was the worst time to be making such noise and he had reduced his ability to get away or into hiding with that to almost nil.
Still, he was better off than Krum. The often surly teen celebrity's face had basically facepalmed a tombstone with the side of his head, scraping that side of his face raw and bloody. For once Krum didn't look surly at all, more the unfocused eyes, dazed look and pale green skin tone of someone who might just have the mother of all concussions.
"Kill the spare," a high, cold and needy voice called out.
'Oh, hell no,' Harry thought. He may not know whether he liked Krum or not, but Luna did and, regardless of whether he was a dick or not no one deserved to die from Voldemort. 'I don't mind if he kills his own but, no one else… not today at least.'
His wand moved up even as he heard the voice that had been part of his nightmares for as long as he could remember. Another voice, one that he detested almost as much, called out one of the most famous curses known to wizardkind.
"Avada Kedavra," Pettigrew's voice, course and stuttering yet still reedy, screamed out.
The sickly green spell that had caused so much pain throughout its existence would have killed Krum if not for Harry. His power grasped a piece of the very tombstone that had injured Krum, ripped it up into the air and into the path of the spell that was sent to rip out his soul.
"Ardor Castro," Harry snapped, and a bolt of dark red light from Harry's wand and hit the hand holding Wormtail's own, across his fingers.
It was a very lucky shot, even with Harry's enhancements, given the distance between them and his poor landing. It cut through the fingers and cauterized as it went but, sadly for the two boys, it didn't go deep enough to damage Wormtail's wand so that it could no longer function. It was deeply scratched and very hot though so, if he had been closer or hit the wand first, it would have been a different story.
Pettigrew may have been the least capable Marauder but that didn't mean that he was incapable. He managed, through his pain, to grab his wand with his other hand and transform even as he fell and before he fully became a rat.
"The ritual Wormtail, it must be done and it must be done now!" Voldemort's voice was half a shout and half a command.
-HPCOD-
The audience (aside from a suddenly hysterical Minister Fudge who was only really there for the good press and ostentatiously give out the prize money) were struck dumb by the action that was unfolding both all too quickly and far too slowly on the two screens that were suddenly the focus of everyone that could see them, that could hear the sound spilling from them.
The sound was slightly tinny and frankly not the best work of whoever had laid the charms but, it was clear enough to hear every word.
Eventually, even Fudge himself was quiet as even he became engrossed with what he was seeing. His disbelieving eyes drank in each earth-shattering frame as everyone not only understood that somehow Voldemort was still alive and trying to return to power but that, this event that was unfolding before them was much more important than the Triwizard Tournament.
This wasn't some glorified, bloody and archaic test that was resurrected for political reasons. This was fearful history in the making, history that would be spoken of for generations to become. There were only three people that weren't engrossed by the scene because it was a momentous moment in the history of their kind.
Hermione wanted to watch, she really did, but she knew that her entire focus was on her task and her timing had to be just right.
Crouch was staring at the screens, but it wasn't fear that he was feeling, rather a sense of slow built anticipation finally coming to fruition. He had known that his Lord would return tonight for a long time but, until recently, he did not think that he would be able to see the glorious sight with his own eyes. He had naturally fought against the inclusion of the mirrors in the Third Task as he knew it went against the Dark Lords preferred desire but, at this moment, a part of him was glad he failed to do so.
Dumbledore was watching but, he was more worried about himself than he was Voldemort's return. Everything about this day was going to be public now and on an international level and all because the other organizers had insisted on these mirrors above his wise counsel. Along with that was Harry's skill with a wand. The fact that the young man was so good was a concern as Dumbledore himself wasn't as skilled at that age (he had little doubt that, if forced too he could contain and defeat Harry but then he had over a hundred years of experience on the boy).
Ironically, it was Fudge that was the swing vote in the argument for the mirrors as the Minister had seen it as an easy way to both bolster his reputation and send his popularity to new heights. It was so contentious a decision in the fact that it had only been settled as a last-minute add on last night.
Now he would have to expend capital that he could not afford to lose, perhaps even hand out favours like he hadn't done for more than three decades and that was a sacrifice that he could ill afford, not if he was about to lead a faction to war and get the Boy-Who-Lived back under his guidance so that the prophecy could be fulfilled.
Dumbledore was only left with the hope that nothing too inflammatory (other than the obvious) would be shown. He was also painfully aware that in all likelihood Voldemort would know of the mirrors as a possibility but would be unaware of their full capabilities or that they had been placed for the Task as there was no chance for his spy to warn him between then and now.
He feared that that hope would be another, in a long list of things lately, thing that would end up being consigned to the wistful thing and mistake sections of his mind.
Unwatched by all during their musings, Hermione had moved into position at the edges of the enraptured crowd and, when she was sure that the moving eye was not looking at her, she acted.
"Stupify," she whispered softly and the distracted imposter fell into a heap after being struck, unnoticed for the moment.
-HPCOD-
'The thing about cornered animals,' Harry thought 'is that they are fucking vicious.'
In theory, the fight should have been over very quickly but the (often literally) rat of a man that he was hunting was doing everything he could to stay alive. He only appeared for moments here and there as a human, with a new mutter or component for the ritual.
He had already added the bone dust from the grave nearby and given the remains of his mangled hand with some quick and efficient spellwork. He was also aided and abetted by the large snake that was slithering around and deadly in its own right. It also attacked Harry or distracted him whenever he seemed to get close to hitting Pettigrew.
In theory, he should have had Krum to counterbalance the snake as, aside from being a Quidditch star, the Goblet of Fire wouldn't have chosen him if he was not a competent wizard.
In practice, however, he was still out of it and he was not only unable to help in his current condition and was more of a hindrance than he was a help. To his credit, he did try and was no doubt fighting through what was, at the very least, a debilitating migraine to do so.
That being said, he was also someone that Harry had to protect from the dangerous spellfire that was whizzing all around him. He was also the favourite target for the large snake (he couldn't even think of it as huge as he had faced a basilisk) and its venomous dagger-like fangs.
Eventually, the stalemate had to end and it did with deadly intent.
Pettigrew launched a cutting curse from his wand and, given the calibre of the magic that he had thrown around before this, it wouldn't normally be that dangerous except that was aimed with pinpoint accuracy at Krum's throat. Harry was also too far away from Krum to cast a spell safely, not to mention out of position, so he was unable to block the attack.
In that context he did the only thing that he could, he summoned Krum.
The Seeker shot towards him like a rocket and bowled both of them over.
On the plus side, Pettigrew didn't use this time to attack them but, on the other hand, he did use the time they were sorting themselves out to complete the ritual and begin Voldemort's rebirth. He would have admired Pettigrew's dedication to the cause if he didn't find said cause abhorrent and understand Pettigrew's character enough to know that his actions were motivated by fear, not loyalty.
Thankfully, that meant that it was now Harry's turn to take advantage of an opening, even as Pettigrew look on in slack-jawed surprise (and dimly comprehending horror) at the sudden and foggy reconstruction of Voldemort.
With several precise waves of his wand, Pettigrew was bound, stunned and flying towards him. Even as that was happening Harry turned to face the greatest Dark Lord of the last half-century or more. Even as he did that, Voldemort attacked with very limited, but still, powerful wandless magic.
'The wanker is fucking quick,' he mentally cursed.
Voldemort moved like oil, never staying in one place long enough to be hit no matter what spell Harry cast at him from a distance. Pettigrew had done the same but he had far less skill and, even bound, had been able to avoid most of his attacks. He had the cuts, scars and burns visible even around the ropes to prove his lack of ability.
Harry dare not move closer though, as Pettigrew had proven himself a slippery bastard and Harry wouldn't want him out of easy reach even if he was stunned and that would leave Krum at risk. There was the snake to consider after all and he also had no idea where the evil little reptile was.
Then the choice was taken from him as Voldemort bent down and picked up something from the ground and picked it up. It also happened to be right next to where Pettigrew was standing when Harry had stunned and bound him.
With the benefit of hindsight, Harry realised that the reason Voldemort had dodged was to retrieve something that the Dark Lord had seen through the cloud of magical fog that came with his rebirth.
A wand.
This changed the game because before Voldemort's attacks were powerful enough they were sloppy and he couldn't use the full breadth of his skills. With a wand however he had all of his capabilities and the benefit of the snake while Harry needed to protect Viktor and find a way of out this mess.
"Avada…" Voldemort began and the malice in his voice so palatable in his voice that it was like an inky cloud reaching for him even before the spell was completed.
"Depulso," Harry cut in quickly with a spell of his own that sent Voldemort tumbling back over the Cauldron in surprise. Harry had reacted on instinct, having trained himself to react whenever he was threatened and, for his part, Voldemort was far more used to people freezing with fear for a half-second at the sight of him rather than fighting back with such speed. "Accio Cup."
The Triwizard Trophy, turned portkey, landed on all three of them (Pettigrew, Harry and Krum) and in a swirl of light and the distinctive feeling of being hooked behind the navel, they were gone.
Back to Hogwarts.
-HPCOD-
When Krum, Harry and Pettigrew landed back where the maze once was (the enchantments that both created and maintained it had ended once the Cup was taken and the Tournament was technically won) and was now simply a grassy field they found chaos.
It wasn't because the fans in the stands were upset that it would take time and effort for it to become a Quidditch Pitch once again.
The fake Moody was gagged and bound, being guarded by the real Moody (who looked about an inch away from happily killing yet another Death Eater). He was prowling around the other man like a caged tiger, though in his case the cage was made by his own ethics and morals.
Madame Bones was arguing none too quietly with the Minister of Magic and somehow also managing to growl threateningly at a Dementor that had been corralled by the majority of the teaching staff.
All of Harry's friends were helping each other and keeping the crowd back from the arguments. Given the general mood, if they had approached either Moody or worse the Minister it wouldn't have ended well for anyone.
With everything that was going on it was Hermione who noticed Harry and the other's arrival first. That was swiftly followed by Dumbledore and Bones who, to her credit, broke off the pointless argument with the obstinate Minister and turned to him.
Neither the aged Headmaster nor the stone-faced law enforcement official was faster than Hermione though and she buried him under one of her all-encompassing hugs.
"Harry!" She screamed, even as he inhaled her comforting scent and relished the warmth of her body.
Even as he did that the adrenaline leaving his system caused him to shiver lightly and she simply tightened her hug in response. They took comfort in each other, first and foremost, as they always had since discovering how important they were to each other.
"Missed you," Harry whispered fiercely into her hair.
Then he turned to Madam Pomfrey who had, with the skill of an experienced healer who knew a skittish patient when she saw one, approached as soon as she could. " Madam Pomfrey, I have an injured man here. Madame Bones I have a prisoner for you by the name of Peter Pettigrew."
"What nonsense is this? Peter Pettigrew is dead and he died a hero, everyone knows that." Minister Fudge took this moment to arrive and was firm and unyielding in his denial of the situation.
"Fudge," Harry replied slowly, enunciating every word clearly even as Hermione delicately took the necklace off of him and then dropped it dismissively to the ground. "When you speak, I swear, everyone in a mile radius either becomes stupider than a rock or gets the extreme urge to smack you one."
"Harry!" Dumbledore chided him with a clear note of warning in his tone, even as Bones snorted in amusement and Fudge sputtered uselessly.
"What? It's true. Besides, Pettigrew is literally gift-wrapped for him and he complains? Let me tell you something else everyone else knows you fat fuck... Sirius Black is innocent and you need to accept that now that Voldemort is back."
"He is not back!" Fudge butted in stubbornly.
Harry did the only thing that he thought was reasonable then. He, ever so gently and with a loving smile, moved Hermione to one side. Then, without warning, he punched the Minister of Magic as hard as he could in the face.
The man dropped, jaw broken and unconscious, even as he lost a few teeth. He was now effectively eating grass, which most of those around him thought was about the maximum of his mental capabilities.
"And I didn't just smack you one," Harry muttered.
"Harry!" Dumbledore barked at him again, angry this time, even as Madame Bones smiled slightly while trying to frown from slightly behind the Headmaster. "Perhaps you could calm down and come to my office. We have so much to talk about now that Voldemort has risen, surely you can see that there is so much we must do now?"
Harry briefly, almost imperceptibly, locked eyes with Amelia Bones. All he could see in her face was an unhappy sort of resigned acceptance of what was about to happen even as, in the background, Madam Pomfrey was busily working on Viktor Krum.
She knew what was going to happen, of course, they had discussed it both by letter and in person many times, and though she was unhappy with their choice and had raised many objections she respected their right to choose their own path.
"No," Harry answered even as Hermione moved back into him and simply held him by looping their arms together. Even as she did that he tucked one of his hands into his pocket while the other held his wand, low and currently pointed at the ground but ready just in case.
"Surely you wouldn't risk breaking a Magical Vow would you?" Dumbledore asked both smugly, as he believed Harry's magic must have clenched in warning, and as if he was talking to a small child.
"Of course not. I have no desire, after doing all of this, to lose my magic…" Harry began to answer even as he dropped his holly wand to the ground at his feet and his other hand gripped an object in his pocket tightly. "I promised you a word and a word is exactly what you will get."
Dumbledore looked really please for a moment and Harry had to resist rolling his eyes as it was clear to him that Dumbledore still didn't get it. Then again, the British Wizarding World was not known for its cultivation of critical thinkers, quite the opposite actually.
One of the many things that Dumbledore didn't take into account (though he was unaware of the Room of Requirement so, in this, he could be forgiven) was that among the many things stored in the Room were a few portkeys.
Though it wasn't common knowledge, portkeys created by the Headmaster of Hogwarts could pass through its impressive wards. Although it wasn't common now in other times (such as the Blitz) they were commonly given to muggle-born students to avoid danger.
Harry had one in his pocket now that had been made by Headmaster Dippet, lost and somehow ended up in the Room. It had its destination slowly and carefully reprogrammed (so as to not break the enchantment on it).
Harry looked the twinkly-eyed manipulator full in the face and tried to convey his complete loathing for the man in front of him. "So here it is… Goodbye."
With that Dumbledore's face fell and the word also activated the portkey. With a blink, both Harry and Hermione were gone and they would not be seen on British soil for many years