Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter.
Important note, please read: With this chapter, "Freedom and Not Peace" begins heading into its climax. It will end on Chapter 70. This means, among other things, that this chapter ends in a MASSIVE FREAKING CLIFFHANGER, and so do the two chapters after it. Things also take an extremely dark turn after this chapter. If you don't like cliffhangers, or if you don't like suspense stretched across days, you might want to wait a while to read. I don't mind. (I'm also expecting a lot of people to simply quit reading after Chapter 61, so there's that).
Otherwise, enjoy! This massive bastard of a story is almost through.
Chapter Sixty: Day of Longest Light
A full year ago today, Harry thought in wonder, as he, and James, and Connor, walked to the edge of the Northumberland beach with their boats in their hands. A full year ago today was the last time we performed this ritual.
He paused a moment to lift his head and take in the sights and smells of the world all around him. The gulls were riding high again, and there seemed to be more of them today, as though they felt the year gone by deserved a salute of their cries. The waves crashed and hissed on the shore with an intonation that had become familiar to Harry from the constant way his heartbeat seemed to resemble it. The foam sparkled blindingly in the sun, which almost sat on the waves, filling all the eastern sky with a dazzle-storm. It was Midsummer, longest day of the year, the day of longest light.
The day of the Third Task.
Harry turned around so that he could walk backward and look at Connor. His brother's hands were steady, though his face was pale, and sometimes he got a distant, thoughtful look in his eyes, as though he were imagining the horrors that might come up and overtake him. Harry didn't blame him. Neither the First nor the Second Task had been uneventful.
They reached the edge of the water without incident, though, and Harry was glad. Connor wasn't a Champion at the moment, and he wasn't a worried, anxious brother. They were both Potters, listening as James held up the little ship that he had created for this year's ritual and began.
"This is the holiest time. This is the time of longest Light."
Harry was pleased to hear that his father's voice was calmer than it had been last year; then, he had been about to spend a summer with sons whom he knew very little about, who had just witnessed the death of a godfather and family friend. Now, though, they were stronger for the trials they had come through, and things had been going well lately. Harry knew that Connor had passed his exams and made up his latest argument with Parvati. If he could just get through the Third Task without disgracing Hogwarts, then he would consider his year complete.
Harry himself…
Harry shrugged as he followed his father into the water, which shoved and pulled at his ankles like the Dark magic, urging him to come deeper. I've been better, but at least northern goblins don't send Howlers, and Draco's guardianship is not as irritating as it was.
"This is Midsummer morning, the moment when the sun shines in all its power, and magic can happen with its rising." James almost whispered the words as he set the little ship on the water.
This time, a wave lifted the boat higher right away. Its mast was not a yew twig this time, but laurel, and Harry didn't know where James had found it; no laurels grew near Lux Aeterna. The sail was cloth torn from the back of a painting, soft and black, and the sides were still ordinary parchment.
The black sail curved and gave back a faint reflection of the sun, and then Harry realized the sides had caught the light so brightly that it looked as though it were on fire. One sunbeam swept around the boat, and under it, and lifted it so that it just barely skimmed the waves as it sailed east.
James's face broke into a smile. He whispered, "We sail our ships, to welcome in the sun, to salute it, as we once sailed out of the sun on a Midsummer morning."
Harry knelt down and made that boast true for not just one Potter, but two. Connor's boat followed theirs the next moment, almost leaping out of his grasp. Harry, though, wasn't sure if that came from his brother's eagerness to participate in the ritual so much as the tremor that appeared to have taken possession of his hands.
Harry edged towards him, and caught his left hand, and stood there, holding it, as they watched their boats take the same sunlit road as James's. Harry was certain he could see the black sail of his father's boat long after it vanished, but at last it was gone completely, and he couldn't pretend anymore.
"I'm frightened," Connor whispered.
Harry felt his heart soften with the thought of how much it must have cost Connor to admit that. He wouldn't have been able to in Gryffindor Tower, and most of the time, he wouldn't have wanted to, either. Harry turned towards him and hugged him, his arms locking around his brother's shoulders.
"Do you remember your dueling spells?" he asked.
"Yes. It's not that." Connor shivered. "If I forgot a spell, then I would deserve what happened to me, after you've drilled me so long and hard. But I'm afraid of something unexpected happening. Of embarrassing myself in front of the school. Of—" He cut himself off with a little gasp.
Harry lifted his gaze quickly, to make sure that James still stood at a distance, but he was watching the sunrise with his hands in his pockets and didn't appear to notice his sons' preoccupation. Or maybe he knew and was courteously giving them space, Harry thought, as he touched Connor's heart-shaped scar. That would fit with the careful way that James was acting around them lately.
"Of your needing to rescue me again," Connor muttered.
"I didn't need to rescue you during the First Task," Harry pointed out. "The dragons would have hurt everyone, not just you."
Connor gave a sound somewhere between a snort, a sob, and a laugh. "The Second Task was bad enough in that respect, thanks." He hesitated for a long moment, then said, "I know that I can't make you promise not to interfere, but please don't do it just because you think I might be in danger, all right?"
"Of course," said Harry, and held him tighter again for a moment, before releasing him. "Now, come on. I think Dad wants to treat us to breakfast."
Connor scrambled out of the water, wiping one hand across his face. Harry knew it would take care of any tears that had gathered in his eyes. Connor was obsessed with being someone strong, and a strong boy would not cry. In fact, he smiled at James so brilliantly that James's smile faded a bit in return, as though he were trying to figure out what Connor wanted.
"You said we could eat breakfast on the beach," Connor reminded him. "Are we going to?"
James relaxed. "Of course," he said, nodding to the picnic basket that stood further up the sand. Connor's face brightened, and he went after it, drawing out a round of fresh apples wrapped in slices of cheese that the brownies had packed. He'd spent the last weekend with James, Harry remembered, and come back to Hogwarts gushing about the treat. Harry didn't think cheese and apples tasted so good himself, but if they would make his brother happy and take his mind off the evening for some time, then he was welcome to all of them he liked.
"Harry."
Harry turned and looked calmly up at James. Their father was chewing his lip, a gesture that made him resemble Connor much more than he normally did. He studied Harry as if wondering whether he would blow up or turn green, or perhaps inflict those things on him.
"What is it?" Harry asked, when the staring had gone on for some time. It must be important, for James to bring it up. Usually, when they were together, he let Harry guide their conversation.
James let out a sharp breath. Then he said, "Your brother asked me this last weekend, and made me promise that I would tell you my answer."
Harry blinked. Connor hadn't mentioned any important question to him. "All right," he said.
"I still love your mother."
Harry felt his shoulders try to hunch in defensive protection against his mother's name, and then told himself he had to relax. James wasn't intent on punishing Lily the way the rest of them were. He knew something about what Lily had done, and yet, obviously, it hadn't killed his love. That meant that Harry might have another person he could feel safe with, like Draco—someone who knew the truth but was going to be reasonable about it.
"Why are you still living apart from her, then?" he did have to ask, since, as far as he knew, James hadn't made any move to contact Lily or even visit her for nearly a year and a half.
"We've been writing," said James. "We wanted to work everything out before we saw one another again. Or, at least, I did, and she finally agreed to it. There are still some attitudes of hers I'm finding it hard to get through." His eyes fixed on Harry. "The ones about you, in particular."
Harry nodded. He'd expected that. He plunged some of the emotions that were circling around in him at the mention of Lily into quicksilver pools. He could get through this. "And what point do you think you've reached?"
"I don't know yet," said James. "Maybe the point at which I can visit her by August or so."
Harry nodded again. His own breathing was fast, and he felt light-headed. He didn't know why. This was entirely James's decision. It had nothing to do with him. And his father was going into this situation with his eyes open. He wouldn't be fooled again. He was only desirous of making up with as many people as possible, and why shouldn't he be? Harry knew that he himself would face his mother if he was a braver or a stronger person.
"I won't ask you to visit her," James said softly. "Not unless you asked me to take you with me. I promise. No forcing you into confined quarters with her. No trusting you alone with her. No bringing her here. You'll never have to see her again, Harry. I wouldn't expect that of you."
Harry inclined his head. "Thank you. In truth, though I know I'll be visiting Lux Aeterna for the summer, I don't know if I'll be living here yet, so you could bring her here as long as you warned me about it beforehand, in time to get away." He turned and looked at the picnic basket. He knew there were corn beef sandwiches in there as well, but he wasn't sure if he wanted anything to eat now. His stomach churned, and he had to swallow several times to convince what remained of last night's dinner to stay down.
"Where else would you—" James cut himself off. "Oh. You'd be staying at Hogwarts with him, then?"
The sound of his voice brought Harry back to reality, and Harry was suddenly glad that he'd made James promise not to mention Snape in his letters. Anger and what sounded like jealousy still bubbled under the surface of his words. It might have ended the letters if they were talking about Snape any more openly, and Harry did want this relationship with James. He wanted all the cracked places in his life to be healed, if he could, and James was trying so hard. It was not fair to scold him for this lapse now.
"I don't know," Harry said again. "Not for the whole summer, I don't think. The Malfoys have also invited me to visit." There had been a third invitation, too, but Harry had put it aside without reading it all the way through, and written a polite refusal. There was no way he was spending the summer at the Sanctuary, even if he would get to see Peter and Remus there. He didn't need people peering at his soul and telling him all the means of fixing it. Besides, he'd be too distant from his allies and the rest of the world that might need his help.
"Oh." James sighed. "Harry, I wouldn't bring your mother into Lux Aeterna without warning you. I promise."
"I know," said Harry, giving him a small smile. "But I still don't think I want to spend the whole summer here."
"Why not?" Some of James's frustration broke through this time. "Do you still not trust me?"
"No," said Harry, and let James take that how he would as he went on. "The main problem is the wards. They'll let Draco visit, but not Snape, and probably not most of my allies whom I might want to see."
James glanced away with a frown.
"You won't consider lowering them?" Harry asked.
"I can't," said James. "The wards aren't entirely under my control. They're part of the nature of Lux Aeterna as a linchpin. They can't come down unless they're obeying my true inclinations, and things like subconscious hatreds are a bitch when it comes to that." Harry chuckled in spite of himself at his father's language. James said things when he was pouting that he never would have otherwise. "I might tell you that I could like Snape now, but the wards would know whether I really did or not, and refuse to fall if I didn't."
Harry nodded. He had expected that, and he even found it difficult to blame his father for it. He himself didn't do well with subconscious inclinations and tests based on them, or he would have found some way to free the northern goblins that didn't involve that stupid plan he'd first come up with. And he would have stopped missing the bond with Draco desperately when he removed it at midnight on the sixth of June. He should be able to conquer the things he was so weak about, he thought, but he couldn't.
And how could he scorn the weaknesses of other people that he found in himself?
"Dad," Connor called through a mouth nearly glued shut. He'd obviously found the peanut butter, Harry thought in amusement. "Harry. Are you 'ver coming to break'ast?"
James squeezed Harry's shoulder. "I just wanted you to know that," he whispered. "That I might see her again, speak to her."
Harry forced out a breath. "I hope you do," he said, and carefully controlled the emotions that wanted to pour into his words. "You both deserve to be happy." And they did, he told himself. Revenge could only go on for so long. He wouldn't willingly see Lily again, but he could rejoice, in an abstract way, that she lived somewhere away from him and was getting on with her life.
"Should we eat breakfast?"
Harry nodded, and in the end he did manage a corn beef sandwich and a few pieces of the cheese-and-apples that Connor liked so much, even though his appetite was entirely gone.
Harry shifted around anxiously, and tried not to resent it when Draco adjusted his position without a pause, so that he could keep his arms looped securely around Harry. They were sitting on the Slytherin Quidditch stands outside the hedge maze that would contain the Third Task, and Draco had deliberately taken a seat behind and above Harry, so that he could hold him. Harry shivered and shifted to the side again. He wanted to be free, ready to move, so that he could help Connor if he were hurt.
It didn't help that they were outside the maze and could not see what was happening within, but then, Harry supposed, the people above the lake wouldn't have been able to see what was happening under the water, either. Besides, he had a spell that would take care of that. Harry touched his wand, which he'd brought along in an attempt to get used to casting spells through it again, and stood up as if that would let him see over the hedges.
"Connor isn't even in the maze yet," Draco said in his ear, and yanked him back down, so that Harry plopped onto the bench ungracefully. "And I think he'll be fine. You've been training him hard enough."
"I don't know," Harry whispered in misery.
It was nearly twilight, but Draco was right; none of the Champions were in the Maze yet, let alone Connor. The sky was just turning the rich, deep purple that Harry had associated with summer sunsets ever since he was little. The air was thick and warm, and filled with the excited chatter of those students from all three schools come to see the conclusion of the Tournament. Harry had already seen several people glancing at him and shaking their heads. They thought he was stupid to be so upset about what seemed like the simplest of the Tasks, he knew: enter the maze, get past the obstacles, and find the cup in the center of it. Or maybe they were just waiting to see what way he would manage to interfere this time.
The judges were seated at a table near the entrances into the maze: Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and a few other witches and wizards whom Harry didn't know. They were perfectly calm, of course. They could afford to be, Harry thought petulantly. They didn't have a brother about to enter a maze and compete in a dangerous Task.
"Hush, Harry," Draco whispered in his ear, and then altered the position of his hands. Harry thought, for a moment, that he might be leaving him alone so he could move about more freely, but then Draco's fingers positioned themselves near his spine and dug in, massaging at a knot there.
Harry wriggled and tried to get away, but the Beauxbatons girl settled on the bench next to him made a face and shoved him back. Harry had to sit back and try to enjoy the massage as he waited for the Champions to be led to the front of the maze.
Connor had the lowest number of points right now, since he hadn't properly rescued his brother in the Second Task, so he waited at the back while Karkaroff announced the Third Task to all and sundry. Krum was edging towards the front, up to the very limit of the distance he was permitted to go right now, and scanning the Quidditch stands with his eyes all the while. Harry suspected, since he faced the Gryffindor stands, that he was looking for Hermione.
"Welcome, welcome, to the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament!" Karkaroff was speaking in a clear, resonant voice that belied the cowardly whimpers he'd used in every conversation with Harry thus far. "As you know, our brave Champions have undergone confrontations with dragons and merfolk beneath the lake, to test their courage and their compassion. We now face a task that will challenge their cleverness. Who can make it through the maze first, and overcome the obstacles that they will find there? This is not a Task in which just one spell will avail them. They must rely on their cunning to adapt their repertoire to the requirements of…"
Harry lost the thread of the speech as he watched Connor. His brother was less pale than he had been that morning, and he had his wand gripped in one firm hand. As the Task came closer and closer, he'd seemed to accept that there was no way he could get out of it, and that he might as well be brave. Harry wondered if he was the only one who noticed the way his brother's eyes kept going to the maze and then darting away again. Certainly the only one who cared that much, he thought, and wiped his hands on his robes, then groaned a bit as Draco managed to soothe one knot along his spine away. The Beauxbatons girl gave them an annoyed glance—presumably she was also missing the speech under the noise of Harry's groans—and edged away from them officiously, craning her neck.
"—and that is the Third Task of the Tournament," Karkaroff concluded. "Our Champions will enter the maze in order of points scored. First goes Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang." Unmistakable pride blazed in his voice as he stepped out of the way and nodded to Krum.
Krum nodded significantly at someone in the Gryffindor stands, and then raced into the maze. Harry watched the green leaves of the hedges waving, and pulled his shoulders away from Draco. He had to cast the spell as undetectably as he could, so he had to lean as close to the maze as possible. Draco gave in with a resigned sigh, and leaned down to kiss the back of his head instead.
"In second place, Fleur Delacour, for Beauxbatons, will enter the maze," Karkaroff announced.
Fleur drew her wand and walked into the maze with a flirt of her silver hair. Harry privately wished her luck. If Connor couldn't win, then he would prefer her to Krum as Champion. She was doing it for other reasons than just to impress one person.
A few more minutes passed. Once Harry heard a scream, cut quickly off. The other students shifted and murmured at that, but then went back to staring at the maze, as though they could really see through the hedges without the help of the spell Harry was going to use, or one like it.
The moment came, then, when Karkaroff cleared his throat, and said, "In last place, Connor Potter, for Hogwarts, will enter the maze."
The name made another wind of murmuring move through the spectators, as though hearing it without the customary title, "Boy-Who-Lived," made them think about Connor in a new light. Harry saw his brother's face flush with color, but he was ready, and all but plunged into the maze the moment that Karkaroff finished speaking.
"Specularis fraterculi," Harry whispered, and gestured with his wand.
To his pleasure, the spell worked, and made the hedges transparent in one particular area, the one where Connor was walking, and only to him. Harry settled back against Draco, who promptly wrapped his arms around him again. Harry felt far more relaxed now, able to move in a moment if Death Eaters showed up. Connor was all right so far, simply walking along a corridor thick with leaves and open to the sky, with nothing threatening in sight.
Harry did crouch down in his seat a little as Karkaroff shot a suspicious glance towards him; as the closest to the maze, he stood the most chance of feeling a spell slide through the wards. Harry hadn't cast a spell to help the Champion of his choice, though, and the wards had been erected mostly to prevent the audience from interfering in the competition. Thus they registered the passage of his magic, but didn't forbid it. Karkaroff wound up frowning and turning back to the entrance of the maze, craning his neck slightly, as though he could see over the walls and make out Krum that way.
With that suspicion dismissed, Harry could focus on Connor. His brother had reached a turning where a shimmering wall of solidified air barred his way. Harry held his breath. They had trained in no spells that were specific to this kind of barrier, and sometimes Connor could be very literal, probably from Hermione's influence; he would want to know the exact countercurse for a spell, when any that got rid of the obstacle would probably be just as good.
Connor only hesitated for a few moments, though, before lifting his wand and shouting, in a confident voice, "Reducto!"
The spell soared away from him, the barrier shattered, and Connor stepped through—
Straight into a mist that made him pant and drop to the ground, clutching at his throat.
Harry's fingers twitched on his wand, and he found himself wishing, oddly, for Regulus, who would know the source of his anxiety; Draco could only clench his hands on Harry's shoulder and hold tight. But Regulus was away, fastened to his body again, this time determined not to come back until he could reveal the location of his body beyond a doubt.
He has to be all right, Harry told himself, even though he hadn't tutored Connor in a spell that would get rid of obstructions like this at all. If he isn't, if he stands some chance of dying, then I'll intervene. I'd rather have him disqualified from the Tournament than dead.
But Connor proved to have a better memory than Harry anticipated. He called up a spell they hadn't practiced since last summer. "Specularis!" he exclaimed, waving his wand in front of him.
The word was half-choked by the gas, but it worked nonetheless, clearing a little window of air in front of him. Most wizards would use the window to see, but Connor used it to breathe, gathering his strength and flinging himself beyond the mist. Harry sat back again.
"Can you tell me anything about it?" Draco whispered into his ear.
Harry kept his own voice low, though he turned his head to the side instead of facing Draco directly, so that he could keep one eye on Connor even now. He was trotting down a broad aisle that appeared to lead directly to the center of the maze, though Harry knew that there was no way the obstacles would be over so soon. Krum or Fleur would have already grasped the cup by now if they were. "He was in the middle of a choking mist. He got himself free, and I thought he wouldn't."
"You really should trust him more," Draco said, and let one hand run through Harry's hair. Harry didn't understand the fixation with touching him, but Draco seemed to have done it more since the bond ended. "I think he's more competent than you give him credit for being."
Harry did face Draco then, staring at him. Draco never had a good word to say about Connor.
Draco frowned at him, flushed, and jerked his chin up haughtily. "I can see when he's improving in dueling spells, Harry. He was so hopeless before that any improvement would be marked."
Harry wound up shaking his head and turning back to the maze. Connor had reached the end of the broad aisle in a seeming wall of leaves. Harry, however, trained in searching out tiny details, saw the recent signs of someone else having passed that way, even through his small window. Connor brightened a moment later, having discovered it, and reached out to swat the leaves aside.
A clawed paw shot through the leaves and dragged at him, pulling him into another place.
Harry gasped and half-jolted to his feet, then saw people turning around to stare at him. He ended up sitting down again, since he didn't want to reveal that he'd cast any spell at all towards the maze and Connor, but kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, as the window revealed a grassy corner covered with thick leaves and with a fountain in the center of it.
Connor was probably not in the position to notice much of it, though, because he was facing a wyvern.
Harry winced and leaned forward anxiously as Connor tumbled free from the creature's hold and rolled to his feet. The wyvern faced him, snarling and scraping menacingly at the ground with the talon it had used to haul Connor in. It was dragon-like, but it had only two legs, huge bat-like wings in the place of forelimbs, and, most dangerous of all, a darting, scorpion-like tail tipped with deadly poison.
Harry saw his brother's face pale at the sight of it. This was more dangerous than any creature he had faced before; at least he had not had to actually wound or destroy the dragon whose egg he took. He hesitated.
The wyvern leaped slightly in the air and came down at him, wings spread wide to prevent a dodge, claws grappling for him, tail whipping down and past its neck.
Connor flung himself into another roll, this one backwards and desperate, and came up on the wyvern's left side. The creature would have had him even then, but its wing caught on the fountain. It screamed and reared back, its tail coiling like Nagini at the height of its throat.
His brother had had a chance to regain his feet, though, Harry saw, and with it his confidence. "Speculum Ardoris!" he called, using the spell offensively, and a shield of fire whirred into being from the end of his wand.
The wyvern, unlike the dragons, had no immunity to fire. It cried again as the spell burned the edge of one wing, and snapped at it with useless jaws. Then it was the one backing up, its wounded pinion held close to its side, its sulky yellow eyes fixed on the flames.
Connor moved towards it, instead of past the fountain and to the maze entrance on the other side of the garden.
"You idiot!" muttered Harry.
"What's he doing now?" Draco whispered into his ear, massaging his shoulders.
"Attacking something he should be running from while it's still baffled—"
Luckily, Connor seemed to get his common sense back at that moment, too. He shook his head, turned, and ran across the garden, ducking into the maze entrance. Harry relaxed for a moment, and then tensed up again when Connor made several hasty twists and turns, and brought another magical creature into view.
"Hello," said the sphinx he'd met, carefully raising her long leonine body up and padding forward. Her face was human in general details, but with subtle differences, rather like the ones that had attended Dobby's changed elven features. She had a literal mane of lovely red hair. She shook the hair out of her face and smiled at Connor. "I suppose that you want to pass me?"
Connor blinked, obviously nonplused by the creature's politeness. "I—yes, that is. If you'll let me."
"Just answer the riddle," said the sphinx. "Answer it correctly, and then I'll let you pass."
"What riddle would that be?" asked Connor. And then, just as Harry had known he would, he added, "And what happens if I don't answer it correctly?"
"I eat you," said the sphinx, in the dreamy manner of a young girl who'd heard that she was to have chocolate biscuits later that day.
Connor's face went pale again, and he swallowed hard. To Harry's relief, though, he didn't try something stupid, like darting around the sphinx, all of whose four paws looked swift enough to catch him in seconds. He said, "What's the riddle?"
The sphinx arranged herself with a little cough, and began to speak in a voice both more piercingly lovely and more alien than the mostly human voice she'd been using so far:
"We are always dancing, we are always there,
But you shut us away beyond the walls of the air.
"You adopt our name for the brightest lights among you,
But we are the originals, and we are always true.
"Glimpse us only half the time, it will not our beauty mar,
For we have always been more steadfast than all humans are."
Connor frowned intently and considered it for some time. Harry could almost see the moments when he might have blurted an answer out, but each time he shut his mouth and frowned again.
The sphinx cleared her throat at last and said, "No offense, but if you don't come up with an answer in the next five minutes, then I get to eat you."
Connor jolted, and his head lifted as if he were going to stare right into her eyes and dare her to do her worst. But his eyes fixed on the sky above the walls of the hedge maze instead, and his face broke into a smile.
"Stars," he said. "The answer is stars?"
The sphinx cocked her head and said, "Is that a question?"
"It's an answer," said Connor, though his smile had wilted a bit.
The sphinx inclined her head and stepped gracefully aside, bending the hedge wall with her weight. "Pass."
Connor whooped and surged past her, turned a corner, turned another corner, and came into a wide, grassy plot, darker than the rest of the maze—but that, Harry thought, might have come from the fact that the sun was setting at last. In the center of the plot, on a block of gleaming ivory, stood the cup.
Fleur was there already, closer to the cup than Connor was, but she was staring, entranced, at something hovering in front of her. They were star-like lights, Harry saw, whirling around each other in constellation-like patterns to draw and hold the eye. They were physically harmless, but if they could enchant the Champions and prevent them from reaching the cup, then they would serve their purpose.
Connor slowed when he saw her, and stared when he saw her predicament. Then the lights split in one half, and one stream came straight for him, the rest still bobbing and dancing in front of Fleur.
Connor closed his eyes, and Harry saw him aim straight for the ivory block without opening them. The star-like lights accompanied him all the way, but since they seemed to work by sight alone, they served no purpose except to form an honor guard as Connor made his way to the cup.
Harry still didn't believe that this was happening until Connor's hand reached out and grasped the cup, and all the hedges turned transparent at once—revealing Krum only a few steps from the grassy plot—and the wards fell.
There was a moment of stunned silence, by which Harry conjectured that no one had expected Connor to actually win. Then the people in the stands surged to their feet, cheering. Even some of the die-hard Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, who'd made sure to sneer at Connor in the past, were applauding.
Harry let out his breath, and used his window spell one more time to make sure that Connor was actually all right. His brother looked winded, but he'd taken no wound from the wyvern—who he probably owed for getting to the cup so fast, since he'd skipped some of the more obviously twisty passage by going through its garden—and the star-like lights had dissipated.
Fleur shook her hair out, blinked, and grasped the situation with one glance. Harry saw her mouth twist, but she walked towards Connor and shook his hand, murmuring a few words too soft for Harry to make out. Connor smiled at her and squeezed her wrist for a moment, blushing as she smiled back.
Krum had to gather himself for a few moments, probably to master his disappointment, but he inclined his head shortly at Connor. Connor nodded at him and said something about "wonderful Seeker," which made Krum grunt.
"The Champion of the Triwizard Tournament," said Karkaroff, in that same deceptively resonant voice he'd used before, "is Connor Potter of Hogwarts. Will the Champions come out of the maze, please?"
Connor was content to follow Fleur's lead along the path she'd taken, Harry saw. He still looked dazed. He had come very far from making an embarrassment of himself, Harry thought, nearly ready to burst with pride. He'd won, and that was something that not even Harry had expected.
He felt Draco hug him exuberantly, and he gave him an absent hug back. His attention was fixed on his brother, and getting to the front of the maze in time to welcome him. A lot of people were crowding up behind the judges, but Harry was sure they would let him through, once they recognized his relationship to Connor.
They left the Slytherin stands and migrated across the Pitch, stepping around several groups of people who were chattering in low, sullen voices, and kept their backs turned to the maze. Harry snorted at them. They just couldn't be happy for someone who'd won against all the odds, could they?
Draco kept pace at his side almost all the way there, but at last shook his head and let Harry go in front of him with an amused smile. Harry nodded at him gratefully and then lengthened his stride. Magic helped him dodge between grass blades and over small holes that might have tripped him up, reaching Connor quickly.
Connor saw him and smiled like a lightning bolt. He grabbed Harry in a tight hug, which was uncomfortable, as he hadn't let go of the Tournament cup, but which Harry was more than willing to endure. "Thank you," he whispered into Harry's ear. "I couldn't have done this without you."
Harry couldn't deny that, since he'd taught so many of those spells to Connor, and hugged his brother fiercely back. Then he stepped out of the way, since the other judges were coming forward to congratulate Connor. Madame Maxime in particular had her hand out, seeming to decide that she should be the epitome of graciousness, no matter how much she might wish her own Champion had won.
"A shame Viktor did not get it," said Karkaroff, from behind Harry. "Alas, that he was too slow." He sounded more resigned than angry.
Harry grinned at Karkaroff, willing to forget their usual guarded conversation in the wake of his brother's triumph. "It was a good try, though. I'm sure he would have been a worthy winner."
Karkaroff nodded. "I would have enjoyed congratulating him," he sighed. "But I should not have thought he would win. I did not spend enough time instructing him in the spells he would need."
"Why not, sir?" Harry asked, curious that Karkaroff would blame himself. He hadn't been able to see what was happening in the maze, after all, and he should fault Krum's slowness more than his own instruction.
"Because I was doing other things," said Karkaroff, mistaking the intent of his question. He sighed again and lowered his voice. "Waking the sleeper, for example."
Harry blinked, trying to remember where he had heard that phrase for a moment.
He was a moment too slow.
Karkaroff's right arm latched firmly around his waist. Harry tried to lunge away, but Karkaroff's left hand was already on one of the buttons on his robe, twisting it sharply.
Even as Harry tensed himself to resist Side-Along Apparition, the Portkey went into motion, snatching them both from Hogwarts and bearing them towards an unknown destination.
Harry flew, and tasted bitterness on his tongue while he listened to the exultant laughter ringing in his ears. I was wrong. Karkaroff hasn't forsaken his old allegiance after all. He was their sleeper.
He did not doubt that he was going to the Death Eaters, and Voldemort. Grimly, Harry began preparing himself for what he would find there.