While they didn't have an open conflict with Malfoy and his cronies, Harry's group ended up putting a healthy two rows between them at the stands of the third task of the tournament. Blaise found their conversation boring, Daphne couldn't stand Pansy and Tracey and Harry went with the flow, so they were comfortably seated after Travers and Montague's groups. Ignoring Blaise and Tracey's snickers about them, Harry basked on the feeling of Daphne's hand on his arm and focused on the champions, ready to tackle the giant labyrinth.

In his opinion, Delacour was being targeted in the scores, and entering second-to-last would be a heavy handicap, although he refrained from expressing it to avoid fueling Blaise's jokes about his supposed crush with the French. Krum kept going with brutish and unimaginative tactics, and Harry couldn't understand for his life why. Neville seemed the calmer of the four, and the slight advantage he had could be his best bet when he enters the unknown. Diggory on the other hand hadn't had the best performance. His disaster with the Horntail had left him with a huge scar in his torso, as his transfiguration dog was not in the diet of the big reptile, used to target cattle. The second task hadn't worked as well, as Krum had punctured his bubble-head charm when they both arrived at the mer-village at the same time. While the Bulgarian had apologized, the Hufflepuff champion seemed sulkier than usual, especially compared to his usually charming demeanor.

Ceremony and fanfare went by, as the four teenagers stood before the entrance. With the first BANG! Neville entered the labyrinth. He kept a steady pace the first meters, turning quickly to the left at the first intersection, only to turn right at the immediate next turn. After that, he started to walk.

Discussions had happened between Algernon, Augusta and Neville via letters, especially after the nature of the third task had been revealed. Neither of them had forgotten the unusual circumstances of his selection, and they were at ease of the perpetrator's last chance to harm him.

Someone able to enchant the Goblet of Fire would not leave the rest of his plan to chance, one of his grandmother's letters had said.

However, it wasn't as simple as quitting the task not even started, as Uncle Algie wasn't sure of how the Goblet measured intent. To complete the "compete" condition, he had to make an effort to win the tournament. However, he couldn't try to much in case the invisible enemy relied on him winning as part of the plan.

So, the caution plan was formed. He would carefully walk through the maze, as if every single step could trigger a deathly trap. While that was a possibility, the main motivation was to make as much time as possible for the others to win the task, freeing him from the ancient artefact's magic.

However, as he advanced through the maze, he was concerned as his way seemed free of obstacles. One nasty disorienting spell had him fall face first to the ground, and one of Hagrid's fire abominations burned his leg severely. His hopes of another one winning thinned as he saw two red sparks jets shone in the night sky, meaning that it was between him and another one. So, he did the only thing he could think of.

He stopped. Carefully, he tried to heal his burned leg as best as he could, standing in one intersection of the road to have better awareness of his surroundings. As such, he saw the red curse flying his way with seconds to spare, allowing him to dodge it by dropping to the floor.

Several small branches and leaves fell upon him, a quick look to the maze's wall showing a straight line, somewhat deep into the foliage. A cutting curse. A figure moved to his right, and the boy quickly raised and pointed his wand towards the attacker.

"You are not completely pathetic then"

"Professor Moody"

He was as serene as he could be, even if inside him there was some severe commotion. Moody. The hero of a thousand battles, a traitor? Surely not. There had to be something else behind that.

He was answered however, as the man sneered. "One would think that you would have figured it all out already, you useless lump. I gave you the tournament! Do you have no ambition? No personal desires? Pathetic!"

Despite himself, despite the dire situation he found himself in, the young champion snickered. "So, you wanted me to win the tournament? Did you really think a thousand galleons would be enough motivation? That Triwizard champion carries more glory than being THE Boy-who-lived.?" Neville wasn't one to lord his privileges over anyone, but just because he didn't like to, didn't mean he didn't know how.

The twitch in his opponent's eyes indicated his annoyance, and Neville got ready to dodge as soon as the other's wand tracked him. However, Moody controlled himself by shutting his eyes. "You are for the Dark Lord to kill"

And as such, Neville's worst nightmare became true.

"W-what?"

"He wanted you for today, you know?" the man sniggered. "A year of planning turned to dust just because you are a spineless, worthless coward."

The man quickly checked a small piece of parchment before chuckling. "I cannot take you to him, not today anyway. But he will receive someone at the very least. I have not failed him entirely"

With that, Moody disappeared, leaving a stunned Neville alone in the maze, pain still reverberating in his leg. What had the man meant? His goal was for him to win the tournament, and he had been aiding him, at the very least during this task. So why leave him after all the trouble? Should he call for help?

And then the revelation hit him like an erumpent in heat. The parchment was held by every professor guarding the maze. And he had only seen two jets of red sparks before. Moody wanted him to win, but he may be content with another one for his sinister purposes. And if he had left him alone, the other had to be close to the win.

And so, he sprinted, terror drowning his pain and fear. Whoever was left, he had to save them.

Without pausing to consider the obvious nature of the trap, he ran through the labyrinth encountering little to no resistance. Twisting, he used a banishing spell to push a big spider out of his way, before encountering a long corridor of the maze, where a limping Cedric Diggory was inching closer and closer towards the cup. Towards the trap. And with his own leg hurting, this sad race was going to be a loss for him. Fueled with adrenaline and with pain and fear clouding his thoughts, he took a very stupid decision.

"Stupefy"

With seeker reflexes, Diggory dodged the spell and turned quickly, with surprised wide eyes. That expression quickly turned to such pure rage that Neville felt the heaviness of the look burn him, only somewhat metaphorically.

"You"

"Cedric, listen"

"No Longbottom!" yelled the puff "I'm done with you and all your bloody bullshit this year."

The Gryffindor was so taken aback by the vicious response he recoiled. Cedric, however, was not finished. "I have been defending you this entire fucking year! Stopping rumors about you, assuring everyone I know that you are not the type of person to cheat his way into a tournament. And you curse me in the back!"

Neville tried to stop him, but the other teen didn't allow him to speak. "The horntail was only there because of you, you know. They had prepared three medium sized dragons for the champions, and because you entered, they got a fourth one, bigger and wilder because that was the only one they could find on time. Then your show with the plant in the lake not only leaves us in the dust, but that Bulgarian brute screws me over. You have been ruining me this entire year!"

The younger boy was having a hard time believing that Cedric could be that unfortunate, but a demential expression had appeared in said boy's face. "I thought it was accidental, but I don't care anymore. When I overcome everything you and this damned year had thrown to me, I will expose you as the attention seeker you really are." Saying this, he turned towards the cup, reaching for his assumed victory.

"Cedric" yelled Neville one last time, but it was meaningless. Without a turn, the perfect launched a banishing spell with such strength and accuracy, that the young Longbottom suddenly became aware that, when training, Harry had been going really, really easy on him.

Despite raising a shield, Cedric's curse felt like a hammer, his wand arm shaking on impact. The older teen threw a barrage of curses that ended up breaking the magical shield and sending its caster to the floor with a shower of dirt and plant parts. Blinking through the cloud of dust, the last thing he saw was a red spell flying towards him, and the other champion grabbing the cup, with a mixture of fury and satisfaction. And then everything turned black.

AN1: Does this count as a cliffhanger? I hope this doesn't count as a cliffhanger.

AN2: And so, it concludes fourth year. I intended this story to develop by scenes, where you could fill the blank spaces via conversations and the fact that you probably have a token understanding of the canon chronology. This year, despite seeing a bit of Harry's and Neville's situation in their respective houses, is focused on developing their friendship. In fifth, the actors start to get their pieces in place, and in sixth, they start making moves.

AN3: For the Haphne consumers, there has been small developments in each chapter. If you squint. It comes forward in fifth year, I promise.

AN4: Happy 2022. The best of lucks.