For the fourth time this hour, Hermione glanced towards the small wooden disc clutched in her left hand.
For the first time in a long while, the logical part of her was in complete agreement with the romantic, more magically-inclined part of her: no matter what was happening on the inside of the maze, it was going to go south. The only question was when. Four years at Hogwarts had cemented that fact: something was going to go wrong. The only question was just how wrong that something would be.
And Harry knew it too, if his earlier actions were of any indication. Unlike his usual behaviour, where he would charge in, without any reservations, he was… hesitant. Reluctant, even. He had gone over his gathered supplies several times, and even had done a check of the emergency beacon, twice!
The mere fact he even acknowledged that the beacon would be important shook her.
Yet, as Hermione stood there, outside the maze, staring at the magically-conjured screens (which brought to mind memories of her as a child watching Star Trek), she could do nothing. She desperately wanted to be in the maze with Harry (Well, not want, per say, as even though she knew she would do it, she knew she would not enjoy it), she was trapped outside, waiting, and hoping to be able to serve as cavalry, when the disaster should finally arrive.
Beside her stood Ron, and to a little bit to the left, stood Ginny and her small group of friends. The race was set to begin in but a few minutes, but she knew that nothing of importance would happen until all four competitors were inside the maze. Instead, she fell back onto her thoughts.
From what little interactions she had made with Ginny's friends, they all tended to paint a picture of being strange, at the very least.
She broke her thoughts for a moment, just in time to watch Harry enter the maze, head slowly swiveling as he ran, searching for possible threats in the walls. Cedric, the champion tied with him, began at the same time, but was slowly pulling ahead, having partially sacrificed safety for additional speed.
Luna, the girl she had spent the least time with, was a strange one. What few interactions she had made with the blonde Ravenclaw usually ended in annoyance, if not a splitting headache. Although she loathed to place as insulting a label upon the girl as she had, she couldn't help but see Luna as mentally unwell, if not utterly insane.
Victor was the next to the maze, reaching his maximum speed in moments as he tore through the winding turns, hoping to make up his lost time. Twice, she could see him vault over near-invisible obstacles, running like a man possessed. Although she very much wished Harry to win, she couldn't help but cheer on the Durmstang champion, as her little date during the Ball had proven him to be a down-to-earth, mostly honorable guy, too bad he wasn't her type. She also knew that if Ron or Harry were to ever learn of her date, or of her opinion towards it, they would likely tease her mercilessly about it.
Luna continuously commented on things that were not there, stated facts that could not be real. Added on to the strange way she spoke, and it painted an overall picture of a confused, disturbed child, the sort of which horror movies tended to revolve around. After her last disaster with Luna's 'newspaper' (more of a tabloid due to the content, actually), she had little to no reason to ever speak to her without a good reason.
"I've got four Sickles on the tournament being disrupted by 'Malevolent Acts of God'! Anyone want to take me up on the bet?" shouted Aurelia, loud enough to shake Hermione from her thoughts.
Around her, there was a wave of dissent, save for a mere handful of 'aye's. It seemed that most of the students had learned their lesson.
Aurelia, the other girl, was no less strange. Although slightly more bearable to be around, the way she held herself was alien, as if she constantly feared of being attacked. Sure, she had been a great help in designing the discs, and was an endless fountain of creative and off-the-wall ideas, her generally diminished concern towards safety of herself or those around her made it difficult to work with her. Even stranger, Hermione was certain that Aurelia wasn't entirely human. From what little hints the blonde had dropped, it was likely she was a Veela-blooded, but the hints were almost too obvious.
Fleur was next into the maze, although at a glacial pace. Hermione had heard what had happened to the Veela-blood second-hand through Ginny, and, as a rational supporter of equality and anti-discrimination, less than impressed. What could have potentially been a mistake, was nearly instantly cast into racism, regardless of original intent. It made sense, then, that the worried competitor would take caution in her actions.
Aurelia was also far too crude, occasionally launching into furious cursing far too often for her sensibilities; Hermione's mother would, should she ever meet the blonde, soap her mouth quite thoroughly. Between that and her constant, blunt, and occasionally insulting honesty, it made it exasperating to hold discussions with her for long periods of time. Still, despite this, she was still a reliable ally in a school as dangerous as Hogwarts.
A slight prod from Ron drew her attention towards Harry's display. It seemed that they had finally reached the beginning of the obstacles. In front of the pair, stood a T junction, with both paths spreading in opposite directions. With barely a nod between the two competitors, Harry began his sprint left, whereas Cedric chose the right.
With the competition finally heating up, she shook herself from her reverie. It was time to focus. Even if they were unable to interfere directly, they'd be able to contact Dumbledore the mere moment something went wrong.
Harry's path was windy, seemingly curving at an acute angle to the left, than the right. At first, the curves were merely disturbing, then improbable, but quickly escalated to impossible, and then into something that she was certain she had seen at a modern art museum in London.
Still, Harry stumbled through the maze, even as the ground writhed and shivered underneath him, enough to generate a sense of vertigo, even through the screen.
"Dear god, what the hell is that thing?" came a murmur from her left.
Turning her head to the right revealed a less-disorienting sight, but one no less disturbing.
Cedric, to his misfortune, had run into a Screwt.
Good lord, how she despised the things. Hagrid had obviously accidentally created the things, as no sane person would ever create something so horrid on purpose. Half crab, half pure evil, the creatures defied classification, magical safety rules, or proof of a loving god. Whichever ones didn't have venomous stingers sucked blood instead, and any one of them were enough to give a small child nightmares.
The fact that one of them had lit her on fire, and then attempted to impale her while she was handling it was entirely unrelated to her understandable opinion towards them. What did affect her opinion towards them was that they were obviously dangerous, entirely untrained, and likely to kill someone, should they ever get loose.
Unfortunately, Cedric was apparently not properly versed in dealing with unholy abominations, as he response was, (rather than either keep running, or to flip it over and stun the exposed belly) to throw a stunner directly at it. The beast merely blinked back at the Hufflepuff with its non-existent eyes, and then lunged forward, its stinger dripping poison.
Rolling to the side, Cedric dodged the incoming monster, before sprinting further into the maze, even as the Skrewt chased behind him.
Harry was still running down the impossible hallway, having not yet run into any monster.
Several shouts of accusation filled the air, "She can't do that! That's against the rules!"
On Fleur's screen, Fleur stood, wand held out threateningly and eye twitching, over an unconscious, likely-stunned Viktor.
"I think I missed something. Anyone want to fill me in?" Hermione spoke, even as she attempted to make sense of the situation.
"Krum went crazy, and tried to attack Delacour! I knew we couldn't trust them!" chimed in a voice from somewhere to her right.
"I still say the taint-blood did it on purpose. Can never trust those things." sneered another.
"Why should we care about a dark creature stunning a dark wizard? Let them fight things out."
"He tried to open up with the Cruciatus curse. Too bad he missed."
To her left, she could hear Aurelia murmur something, likely profane, in displeasure.
It didn't make sense.
Viktor, despite his stigma for being a member of Durmstang, wasn't a bad person. During the dance, she had of course probed him about what they taught over in Bulgeria, to which he had admitted he had never cast a Dark Curse towards another human, nor did he ever wish to.
So why would he…
Imperius.
With as small a motion as she possibly could make, she sent a small, short pulse of heat through the beacon, their pre-agreed signal for 'bad things are starting to happen, be on your guard.' Immediately, Harry shifted into a more defensive stance, before replying with two quick pulses on the beacon, his sign for 'message received'.
Beside her, Ron and Ginny were staring at her in confusion. A silently mouthed 'Imperius' was enough to pale their faces, and return quick nods back towards her.
With the stakes now revealed, her attention was once again locked back on Harry. After all, with one champion incapacitated and likely under the influence of dark magic, and the other so far behind it'd be unlikely for her to catch up, it was only a contest between Cedric and Harry, anyway.
On Harry's screen, he had just encountered a Dementor. Although it was enough to slow his pace, he did not stop his movement. In but a moment, he had struck the thing with a Patronus. When that failed to affect it, he followed up with a Riddikulus, and it had morphed from a terrifying abomination, into a crude approximation of a bedsheet ghost. He hastily kicked it over as he ran past, perhaps as some petty form of vengeance.
Directly into Cedric.
Cedric, now sporting several fresh burns from where the Skrewt had successfully lobbed fire at him, was knocked flat on his behind, but quickly got back up on his feet, unwilling to let the still-pursuing Skrewt catch him.
To Harry's credit, the moment he saw the Skrewt approach, he was directly behind Cedric.
The pair were chased for another minute, and while they were temporarily halted by a sphinx, it appeared that their hasty answer of 'There's a Screwt behind us, and it's angry!' was actually the answer to its riddle.
Or at least, that's what she could make of their gestures. The screens did not project sound.
And finally, the two were at the center of the maze. Ahead of them, was the Triwizard cup.
There were murmurs of confusion in the crowd when Harry stopped, held Cedric at the entrance to the room, and began scanning the room.
Damn the lack of sound, she couldn't understand what Harry was saying.
Still, it seemed to have done the trick, as Cedric's face turned grim, before he joined Harry in the spellcasting.
After several seconds of continuous casting, the two wiped the sweat from their brows, smiled towards one another in relief, shook hands, and reached for the cup together.
And then they were gone.
She could feel the blazing heat coming from the disc the moment they had made contact.
Even as the shouts and accusations of the crowd rose to earsplitting levels, she could hear nothing but the sound of gears grinding in her head. Could do nothing, but mentally underline the one thing they had forgotten.
Portkey.
The trap was not in the maze. It wasn't the monsters, it wasn't the obstacles. It was the bloody trophy.
Ron had already exploded into action, having dragged Dumbledore over to where they were, and had shown him the disc.
But if she, the creator, still hadn't found out how to track it, what hope would they have?
Amid the rioting crowd, she could hear nothing. Could barely see, could barely feel.
But there was one thing she could still feel:
She could feel the sinking feeling of the disc growing cold.