Chapter Eighty-Three - The Third Task
Harry had never spoken with Sirius about the dreams he'd had that summer. He had managed to convince himself that it was never the right time to bring it up, and since he'd had no dreams recently, his worry had gradually faded away. After the conversation with Dumbledore, however, he decided it was finally time to tell his godfather about the dreams... And the possibility that Lord Voldemort was growing stronger.
It was not an easy letter to write, particularly as Harry was forced to mention Peter Pettigrew. He included few details, focusing instead on what Dumbledore had told him about his possible connection to Voldemort. After sending the letter by Hedwig, he descended the many flights of stairs to the Slytherin common room, where he found Blaise and Millie exactly where he left them.
His friends already knew about his fit in the classroom. If Harry hadn't mentioned it himself, then the Hogwarts rumor mill would have provided the details. Harry had also told them of the discussion held in the headmaster's office, and Blaise wanted to go over everything again.
"Fudge is wrong about Crouch," he pronounced with his usual confidence, "Even Professor Moody said there was no way Crouch could have attacked Krum and gotten away in his condition. Someone would have found him."
"Then the only alternative is that someone attacked them both and kidnapped Crouch," Millie reasoned, "The problem is, we have absolutely no suspects."
"That isn't entirely true," Harry said glumly, "There's a good chance it's the same person who put my name in the Goblet of Fire."
"You and Krum were in the forest near Hagrid's cabin, right?" Blaise asked Harry. "The Beauxbatons carriage isn't too far from there."
"What's your point?"
"Well, you've seen her, haven't you?" Blaise replied, "Madame Maxime! Maybe she had something to do with it."
"What has Maxime got to do with anything?" Harry asked, afraid that he already knew where this was going.
"Delacour's in last place. Maybe Maxime wanted to better her chances of winning by manipulating a judge? She's clearly got giant blood. She could be dangerous."
"Hagrid has giant blood, too," Harry snapped, "Do you think he went out and attacked Crouch for no reason?"
Blaise could tell that he'd touched a nerve, and he quickly abandoned this theory. Instead, he quickly added, "No, Maxime doesn't strike me as one of You-Know-Who's followers. But who else could it be? Do we know anyone at Hogwarts who could be a Death Eater?"
Harry thought about it, but the only person he knew who might sympathize with Lord Voldemort was Draco Malfoy, and that was too unlikely. They couldn't come up with any satisfying conclusions in the end, and Millie eventually reminded Harry that he still had the third task to prepare for.
"If someone was planning to use this competition to hurt you, this will be their final chance," she warned.
As a Triwizard champion, Harry was excused from their final exams, but Blaise and Millie still needed to study. Although Harry tried telling them that he could practice for the tournament on his own, they told him not to be ridiculous. Blaise was sure to score top marks in both Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Millie had always excelled at the latter, and recently she had been doing very well in Transfiguration. It was the third task that worried them, and they didn't mind shirking their studies to practice with Harry.
They were not alone. Hermione, Neville, and Nell all chipped in to teach Harry any helpful spells they had come across. Even Colin Creevy and Herb Pandey were eager to help. As third years, there was little they could teach Harry that he hadn't already learned the year before, though they did come in handy as target practice for his new defensive spells.
As the date of the third task swiftly approached, Harry was surprised that his popularity had grown. At the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament, only those in Slytherin were pleased he'd been made a champion. Now that he was favored to win, he started to see students in the other houses sporting green and silver pins on their uniforms. Some even smiled at him in the halls.
At times like this, Harry was reminded of the conversation he had with Cedric. He wondered what new rumors were circulating about him that could explain this sudden change in attitude. Whatever the cause, it was certainly not due to Rita Skeeter, who published another article about him the very morning of the third task.
"Disturbed and Dangerous," Harry said with a sigh, reading the headline aloud over breakfast in the Great Hall, "Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament… I never wanted to compete anyway!"
"Let me see," Millie demanded, taking the paper from his hands and scanning the article herself, "Well, she found out about your collapse in class the other day. Listen to this… Your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar hurt too badly to continue studying…"
Millie's eyes met Harry's. He seemed to read her thoughts as he voiced aloud, "How could she have witnessed anything? She wasn't there!"
"Someone might have talked," Blaise suggested.
Harry's mind immediately flew to Cedric, who had been so eager to follow him all the way to Dumbledore's office. He hadn't thought Cedric was the type of person to blab to a reporter like Rita Skeeter, but he seemed like the obvious choice. Perhaps he resented Harry for stealing attention away from him in the tournament?
"I don't believe it…" Millie suddenly hissed, breaking Harry's train of thought, "Draco! That sneaky little…"
Rather than explain herself, Millie thrust the paper back into Harry's hands, pointing out a particular passage to him.
"Potter can speak Parseltongue," he read. It was a quote from Draco Malfoy, "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them. It was all hushed up though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants, too. We think he'd do anything for...for a bit of power!? What a load of rubbish!"
Harry couldn't care less what Skeeter wrote about him, but he resented this constant attack on friends like Hagrid and Remus. Looking up at Millie, Harry asked, "I don't suppose you and Hermione are any closer to finding out how Skeeter is conducting these interviews when she's banned from the grounds?"
"Not yet," said Millie, shooting a dark look down their table at Draco, "But now I know someone who can tell me…"
"Try not to break any bones, Millie dear," Blaise remarked lightly.
Their breakfast was interrupted by Snape, who descended on their table like a black cloud. He was perceptibly grinding his teeth as he said, "The champions are gathering together now. It is a chance for you to meet with your families."
He practically choked on the last word. Harry had been wondering what could have made him more testy and usual, but then he realized who Snape must be referring to. Sirius and Remus must have arrived. Snape harbored a mutual hatred for Harry's godfather that Harry still did not fully understand, though he knew only Sirius could elicit such a response from the Potions Master.
"I'll see you after your exams," Harry excitedly told Blaise and Millie as he jumped up from the table. He looked at Snape, expecting him to lead the way, but Snape only jerked his head to the door leading behind the staff table and stalked in the opposite direction.
It was the same room Harry had entered after his name was shot from the Goblet of Fire. The other three champions were already visiting with their families, and Harry was surprised to see not only Sirius and Remus waiting for him, but Mrs. Zabini as well. The trio created an impressive tableau, gathered as they were about the fireplace. Sirius wore his favorite velvet coat and had brushed his long dark hair to a brilliant shine. Remus looked less rumpled than usual, dressed in his best tweeds and still sporting his usual catalogue of old scars. Mrs. Zabini, glamorous and stunning as always, was dressed in pearl grey robes with a matching turban.
"You all came!" Harry said, grinning widely as he approached.
Sirius wrapped him in a warm hug. "Of course we did! I told you Remus and I wouldn't miss it."
Harry's gaze had moved to Mrs. Zabini, who smiled at him as she said, "You didn't think I was going to let Sirius and Remus have all the fun, did you?"
"How are you, Harry?" asked Remus, his voice only slightly colored with anxiety.
Harry wanted to ask if they received his last letter, but he knew they were being watched. Fleur Delacour's mother was looking at Mrs. Zabini with interest, while the eyes of both Cedric's parents were directed at Sirius. He couldn't speak confidentially here.
While Harry tried to stammer out a passable response to Remus's inquiry, he found himself suddenly addressed by Cedric's father. Harry recognized him at once. He had been the minister who questioned Winky at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry couldn't believe he hadn't made the connection before, but now that he saw Cedric trailing after his father, the resemblance could not be denied.
"There's the man himself!" Amos Diggory declared, "You must feel very proud, Mr. Black. Harry has surpassed all of our expectations! What do you say, Harry? Feeling pretty pleased with yourself?"
"Dad please," Cedric begged. To Harry, he whispered, "Just ignore him. He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the tournament…"
"That's funny," Harry remarked coldly, not bothering to lower his voice, "And here I thought you and Skeeter were great friends."
Cedric's eyes grew wide as he exclaimed, "Me? I've never said a word to Skeeter my whole life!"
"Seems to me Harry's the one who enjoys talking with reporters!" Mr. Diggory said, "Plenty of articles about you these days, but what of the other champions, eh? You'd think Harry was the only one who fought a dragon or swam to the bottom of a lake…"
"Perhaps if the other champions were better, then there would be more articles about them," Sirius said coolly, his eyes flashing.
Harry sensed a fight brewing, and was anxious not to ruin what little time remained before the third task. He looked at Remus with pleading eyes, knowing he would be the only one to keep Sirius in check.
"Edana, have you ever received a tour of Hogwarts?" Remus suddenly asked in a very loud voice, "Sirius and I are something like experts on the subject."
Mrs. Zabini raised a quizzical brow at the Diggorys, who were now in a heated debate between father and son, though she made no remark about the odd exchange as she replied, "I've visited Hogwarts on business concerning the boys several times, but I don't think I've ever been given a proper tour."
"Well then, lead the way, Harry," Remus quickly advised, grasping Sirius by the elbow and leading him toward the door. Sirius was still staring daggers into Amos Diggory's back, but his attitude quickly changed once they had left the oppressive atmosphere of the castle. Harry led them to the grounds, where Sirius breathed a sigh of contentment.
"It's great to be back again!" he stated, "And to be invited this time! I feel as though there's so much I didn't get to see when I was here before…"
Harry found himself less of a tour guide and more of a spectator as Sirius and Remus took turns pointing out different features of the school grounds to Mrs. Zabini. As the creators of the Marauder's Map, there seemed to be no end to their knowledge. They lingered for sometime near the Whomping Willow, though they were careful to remain just out of reach of its flailing branches.
"It's certainly an interesting specimen. How long has it been here?" Mrs. Zabini asked.
It was a sensitive subject. Sirius fumbled with his words as he attempted to explain that the tree was planted when they were in school. It was Remus who eventually took over.
"The Whomping Willow is planted over the entrance to a tunnel that runs from here to Hogsmeade," he explained in a calm, resigned tone, "It was done so that I could be taken away from other students each month when I transformed."
Harry glanced nervously at Mrs. Zabini. She had always seemed to harbor a secret dislike of werewolves, though he never understood why. He wondered what her response would be to this information. To his relief, she merely gazed at the tree in silence, watching the long, whip-like branches twist themselves in the morning air. Finally, she said, "That must have been very frightening for you, being only a child at the time."
"It was at first, but Sirius and James found a way to join me," Remus said with a soft smile, "I suppose they weren't all bad memories."
No one was willing to return to the castle with such fine weather outside, and their tour of the grounds eventually led them to Hagrid's cabin. Sirius was pleased to see this old friend again, particularly as Hagrid had returned his motorcycle to him. Mrs. Zabini did not seem to share the same resentment toward giants as she did werewolves, and she accepted Hagrid's offer of tea with perfect politeness.
Harry had rarely known such happiness as sitting in Hagrid's cabin that day, surrounded by the adults in his life that mattered to him most. He only wished that Blaise and Millie were there to hear more of Sirius's stories, rather than sitting in the castle, engrossed in their end of year exams.
There was one final place Sirius wanted to visit before returning to the castle for the evening fest. Saying their goodbyes to Hagrid, he led them back to the grounds. The path led them to the edge of the Black Lake. A light, cool breeze flowed toward them, sending ripples to shore. In the distance, the Durmstrang ship bobbed lazily on the surface of the grey water.
Mrs. Zabini finally broke the silence. "This is nice," she said, "But why did you bring us here?"
"Oh this?" Sirius replied distractedly, as if he'd been lost in thought a moment before, "This is where Remus and I…"
Before he could finish his statement, Remus roughly shoved him into the lake. Fortunately, the water wasn't very deep, but Sirius made a rather large splash as he fell. Mrs. Zabini jumped back from the spray with a cry of alarm, while Harry inadvertently burst into laughter at the look on his godfather's face.
"Moony!" Sirius cried as Harry offered him a hand out of the shallow water. "What did you do that for?"
"There was a beetle on your shoulder!" Remus protested.
"Oh really? A beetle, was it?" Sirius said with a playful snarl as he laid his hands on Remus, prepared to hurl him into the lake as well.
"I swear, there was this really huge, nasty beetle!" Remus explained as he struggled against Sirius's grip. He looked over his shoulder at Mrs. Zabini, as if pleading with her for assistance.
Mrs. Zabini hadn't seen any beetle, but she did recommend that her companions stop their grappling and escort Harry back to the castle. Harry felt his heart sink a little when he realized it was already late in the afternoon. It didn't help that Mrs. Zabini mentioned the night Mr. Crouch vanished from the school grounds during their walk.
"Cornelius will be sitting in as the fifth judge tonight," she informed Remus in passing. Mrs. Zabini had long been on a first-name basis with the Minister for Magic, "Ludo is optimistic, but I cannot help but worry…"
"Are you worried, Harry?" Sirius asked in a low voice, perhaps noticing the way his face paled whenever the tournament was mentioned.
"A bit," Harry admitted.
"I'd be surprised if you weren't, after what you told me in your letter. But don't worry. Even if You-Know-Who is getting stronger, he and his followers will have to get past me, Remus, and Dumbledore before they can touch you." Glancing back at Mrs. Zabini, he added, "And I pity the man who tries to get between you and Edana."
Harry smiled at him, but the worry would not cease. Harry knew that Sirius was thinking of Pettigrew when he spoke of Voldemort's followers. He could practically feel Sirius's need for revenge emanating off him. He hoped that their predictions were somehow wrong, and that everything would end well tonight. He didn't need to give his godfather an excuse to fight any battles for him.
By the time they returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast, Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table. Bagman, currently courting Mrs. Zabini, and Mr. Fudge, who had long been her admirer, both graciously offered her a seat of honor between them. She politely declined, preferring to remain with Harry at the Slytherin table.
The presence of the adults was enough to intimidate most of the students in his house. Draco made sure to stay clear of Sirius, in particular, and Harry did not wonder why. Remus had them all face a boggart in their third year, and Draco's had assumed the form of Harry's godfather, as wild and mad as he appeared in his wanted posters. Harry never did find out what made Draco so afraid of Sirius, and he never bothered to ask. For now, he was simply grateful that he didn't have to face Draco's scorn just before the third task.
There were more courses than usual, but Harry was not in the mood for eating. He did his best to swallow a few mouthfuls to please Mrs. Zabini, but it was difficult to concentrate as his nerves grew with each passing minute. It was almost a relief when Dumbledore finally rose to his feet and silence fell over the hall.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and those of unspecified gender, in five minutes' time I will be asking you all to make your way to the Quidditch field. Tonight we will observe the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. I'm sure you will all join me in congratulating our four champions as they follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."
An enthusiastic applause broke out around the hall as Harry and the other champions rose from their seats. Sirius gripped him warmly by the hand before he left, and Mrs. Zabini wished him luck. Harry, not trusting himself with words, merely nodded his thanks as he followed Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.
"Feeling alright, Harry?" Bagman asked as they went down the steps onto the school grounds.
"I'm fine," said Harry. It was only partially a lie. Part of him wanted to vomit all over his sneakers. But another, stronger part of him ran over all the hexes and spells Millie and Blaise had been teaching him. He felt better when he realized he could remember them all.
They arrived at the Quidditch field. The hedge maze Hagrid had planted was now twenty-feet high and seemed to cover the entire pitch. There was one gap visible in the entire mass of green. Harry assumed this was the path they were to take.
As the stands began to fill with students, the air buzzed with excited voices and rumbling feet. Harry glanced at the other champions, gazing at Viktor more than the others. He didn't have a chance to talk to the Durmstrang champion since the night Mr. Crouch appeared in the woods. He tried to catch his eye, but Viktor's face was a blank mask. He stared straight forward at the entrance to the maze, seemingly heedless of the noise around them.
Hagrid, along with Professors McGonagall, Moody, and Flitwick approached the group of champions. They were wearing large, red stars on their hats, all except for Hagrid, who wore his on the back of his moleskin vest.
"We will 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. Understood?"
They nodded. Bagman dismissed the professors to their posts, then raised his wand to his throat, a tell-tale sign that he was about to make an announcement. Sure enough, his magically amplified voice was projected over the stands.
"Welcome one and all to the final task of the Triwizard Tournament! Let me remind you all of how the points currently stand! In first place, we have Harry Potter!"
The cheers and applause that followed his name sent birds soaring above the trees of the Forbidden Forest. The attention would have been nice, if Harry wasn't so sure something terrible was about to happen.
"In second place, Cedric Diggory! In third place, Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute. And in fourth place, Fleur Delacour, of Beuxbatons Academy!"
Harry scanned the faces in the crowd and could barely make out Sirius and Remus, sitting with Mrs. Zabini near Blaise and Millie. Millie had made a rather large banner with his name and a serpent painted on it. She waved it in the air as she spotted him, and Harry awkwardly waved back.
Harry had to enter the maze first. Bagman blew from a whistle, and there was no more time for thought. He hurried into the maze, unsure if he was prepared for what he might face. The towering hedges cast dark shadows across his path. Harry didn't know if they were enchanted, or simply so tall that they blocked out the noise of the crowd, but it was eerily silent in the maze. He pulled out his wand, muttered "Lumos" and hurried down the path until he reached the first fork.
He was about to pick a path at random, but then he remembered that Peregrine Derrick had taught him a spell to use his wand as a compass.
"It will always point you in the right direction," he had said.
At the time, Harry hadn't seen the point of the charm, but now it made sense. Bole did say that Derrick's predictions usually turned out to be true. He would have to remember to thank them both later.
Placing the wand in the palm of his hand as instructed, he spoke the incantation. The wand hovered in the air just above his palm, wavering slightly as if it was collecting its bearings, then it pointed to the path on the right. Having nothing else to lose, Harry proceeded on his way.
In the distance, he heard the whistle blow a second time. Cedric had entered the maze. Harry picked up the pace. The path he had chosen seemed oddly deserted. He took a right, still following the wavering point of his wand. Another right, then a left… Still nothing. From far away, he heard the whistle blow a third time. Viktor was next. And still Harry had met no obstacles.
He knew he should be pleased about the ease with which he moved through the maze, but it didn't sit right with him. He should have run into some challenges by now. It was as if someone had arranged the maze to be too easy for him.
He was beginning to question the wand. Perhaps the spell hadn't worked, after all. It might be leading him the wrong way, and that was why he hadn't met with any danger. He could imagine the crowd watching him from high above, over the tops of the hedges where they couldn't be seen, laughing as he fumbled his way through the maze in circles…
The whistle blew a fourth time. All the champions were now in the maze. Cursing, Harry grabbed the hovering wand and charged forward, picking a path at random at the next fork. Whatever challenge he faced, it couldn't be worse than wandering aimlessly in this labyrinth for hours, waiting on someone else to win.
He was running down the path now, reckless in his desperation to find something in the other than more turns. He rounded a corner sharply and nearly tripped over something large, shiny, and insect-like. The creature skittered away from him sideways, and Harry barely had time to register what it was before a fireball was lobbed at his face. Harry ducked just in time. The path here was littered with Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts.
They had grown considerably since Harry last saw them in class. Now ten feet long and resembling a cross between a lobster and a scorpion, they looked dangerous. Harry might have backed away and chosen another path, but he was so relieved to have found something! Hagrid's Skrewts, though packing firepower, were usually calm creatures in his experience. He thought he could simply walk past them, but his sudden appearance had frightened the creatures, and they were now swarming the path, bursts of fire erupting at odd intervals. He made the reckless decision to simply dart past them, hoping to avoid the worst of the balls of flame.
He thought he had done rather well, and was particularly pleased at the way he vaulted over the back of the last Skrewt. He wondered if anyone in the stands had noticed that move, then he realized his robes were on fire. His first instinct was to rip the robe off his body, but then he remembered a charm Blaise had taught him.
"Aguamenti!" he cried, causing a cool jet of water to pour from the end of his wand. It did the trick nicely. His robes extinguished and only a little singed, Harry continued on his way.
He was still running along this path when a scream shattered the silence around him. It sounded like Fleur, but Harry wasn't sure from which direction the voice had come. He skittered to a halt, listening intently, though he dared not call out the other champion's name. A moment later, bright red stars erupted over the maze not far away. One champion down, Harry thought before he could help himself.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Harry turned another corner, then stopped dead in his tracks. A figure was gliding toward him, tall and black, its face hidden by its hood. A pair of rotting, scabbed hands reached forward. Even at a distance, Harry could hear its rattling breath. A coldness swept over him as Harry raised his wand with a trembling hand.
He thought of that afternoon, of sitting in Hagrid's cabin with Mrs. Zabini, Sirius, and Remus. He concentrated all his might on this memory, and of how it would feel to get out of this maze and celebrate with Blaise and Millie. Then he cried, "Expecto Patronum!"
At once, a silver stag erupted from his wand and cantered toward the dementor, which promptly fell back and tripped over the hem of its robes. Harry didn't think they could do that.
"Hang on…" he said to himself, "That's not a dementor… That's a boggart!"
He raised his wand again and shouted the spell Remus had once taught in class, "Riddikulus!"
There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifting creature exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver Patronus lingered a moment longer, looking back at Harry, before it too faded from sight. Harry wished he could have taken the stag with him. It would be nice to have some company.
The cup had to be close by. He chanced trying Derrick's spell again, and followed the wavering arrow down another path. And suddenly, there it was. The Triwizard Cup sat gleaming on a tall plinth only a hundred yards away. Without another thought, Harry raced toward the cup. A small voice in the back of his head warned him that this was too easy, but he didn't care. He could end the tournament now as the winner!
He was only a short distance away from the cup when he heard a voice shouting down the path parallel to his own.
"What are you doing?! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
It was Cedric, and the voice that cried out the next moment sent a chill running down Harry's spine.
"Crucio!"
Cedric's pained screams ripped through the night air. Horrified by what was happening, Harry skittered to a halt, abandoning his plan to seize the cup, and searching instead for a way to get to Cedric. He finally tried a curse Millie taught him, aiming for the hedge itself and managing to burn a hole large enough for him to duck through. Cedric was there, laying on the ground, his body twitching in agony as he continued to scream.
Krum stood over him, his face the same impassive mask Harry saw prior to entering the maze.
"Viktor, stop!" Harry cried out.
Viktor looked up at him, and for the first time Harry saw that his eyes had a glazed, absent look to them. They reminded him of someone, and Harry realized it was the same vacant look he remembered seeing on Mr. Crouch during his ramblings in the forbidden forest.
Viktor didn't speak, but he turned his wand away from Cedric and began to run. Harry, reacting quickly, fired a stunning spell at his back.
"Stupefy!"
Viktor stopped in his tracks, fell forward, and lay motionless on the ground. Harry turned his attention to Cedric, who had stopped screaming and writhing, but was now painting from exertion in the dirt, his hands covering his face.
"Cedric!" Harry said, falling to his knees by the Hufflepuff's side, "Are you alright?"
"I"ll be fine," Cedric replied with a slight gasp as he struggled to catch his breath, "But I… I don't believe… He crept up behind me… Pulled his wand..."
"It wasn't him."
Cedric pulled his hands away from his face and stared at Harry in disbelief.
"I saw his eyes," Harry explained, "He wasn't acting like himself. I think… I think someone might have put a curse on him."
Cedric stared down the path at Viktor's motionless body and shuddered, "You mean like the Imperious Curse?"
Harry nodded, "Someone might have manipulated him to take out the other champions."
"But why?" Cedric asked. "Why would someone care that much about who wins this competition?"
It was too much for Harry to explain now. He simply shook his head and helped Cedric climb to his feet. They both stopped and stared at Viktor. Harry knew he wouldn't stay stunned forever, and was just beginning to wonder what they should do when Cedric raised his wand and fired red sparks into the air.
"Someone will come for him," he explained.
"Right," said Harry, then he asked, "Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?"
Cedric nodded, his expression grim, "Do you think Viktor got to her too?"
"It's possible," Harry said, not liking to think about it. But then he remembered the red sparks he saw earlier, and he hoped that wherever she was, Fleur had gotten to safety.
"Then I suppose it's just the two of us," Cedric commented.
The fact that they were opponents suddenly came back to Harry with force. They turned away from Viktor and stared down the other end of the path. Like the trail Harry had found, this one also led to the center of the maze. The light reflected from the Triwizard Cup glinted tantalizingly at them from only a few yards away.
Harry's mind was full of several emotions at once. Relief that it would soon be done, triumph that whoever placed him in this competition had not succeeded in humiliating him, and hope… Hope that he could make Sirius, Remus, and Hagrid proud. He would not disappoint them.
It took only a second for him to make his decision.
"What should we do?" Cedric asked.
"Sorry, Cedric."
"What?"
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry shouted, his wand pointed at his rival.
Cedric's face was frozen into a look of shock as his arms snapped to his sides, his legs locking together. Harry caught him before he could fall flat on his face, then rested him gently on the ground. Cedric's eyes stared at him. He was still conscious.
"I really am sorry," Harry said again, "But there can only be one champion, and I've got to win."
And he left, certain that the professors would find both Cedric and Viktor when they responded to the red sparks. But by then, Harry would be declared winner of the Triwizard Tournament. He reached the plinth and held his hand above one of the shining silver handles. The moment he grasped the cup in his hand, he felt a jerking sensation behind his navel. His feet left the ground, and he was being pulled onward in a howl of wind and color. The trophy was a Portkey, and Harry was an idiot.