- Chapter Seventeen -

Magical Eruption

The second task of the Triwizard Tournament was scheduled for February 18th. As stated in the Durmstrang invitation, the portkey was scheduled to be sent just an hour before the task was due to start, and this was rather annoying for Kingsley. As he had explained in their last meeting before the trip, he suspected that the member of the inner circle hiding in Durmstrang had become more cautious, and, though he had not said it out loud, Harry suspected, he was probably thinking it was thanks to him.

'Harry, tell me again what the task is, please.' Kingsley instructed when he, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Dawlish were within four walls in the Minister's study.

'While Ron and Mr Dawlish scout the area, Ginny and I keep an eye on Moloh...'

'Not just Moloh!' interjected Hermione, who was only present because she had an urgent meeting with the Minister about the protracted case of Rita Skeeter, and when Harry and the others arrived for the briefing, Kingsley simply didn't send her away and she stayed.

Harry, Kingsley and the others instinctively turned their attention to her, of which Hermione was aware; only Dawlish found it odd that an employee from a completely different department was present, and even able to interrupt the meeting, and therefore cleared his throat annoyingly, something he had probably learned from Umbridge. No one paid any attention to him.

'We can't be sure that Moloh is the only one working for the inner circle,' Hermione continued, 'It's quite possible that he has supporters among the other teachers, and even among the students.'

'Madam Ula said that all the teachers are afraid of Moloh,' said Ginny.

'Madam Ula?' Ron looked puzzled.

'The deputy headmaster of Durmstrang,' Harry reminded him, 'She said that there wasn't a single person in the school who didn't hate the new headmaster. He sacked a lot of teachers, and even had some of them sent to prison.'

Kingsley furrowed his brows and leaned back in his chair.

'Then all the more reason to pay attention,' Hermione continued, ignoring Dawlish's further coughing. 'The teachers who were dismissed have obviously been replaced, and they could well be members of the inner circle.'

No one contradicted her; Harry, for his part, was sure that she was right. Back then, the Death Eaters had used similar tactics with Hogwarts. Snape was appointed Headmaster, and Alecto and Amycus Carrow were appointed to the two key subjects (Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts).

'And what do we do if, while we're poking around in one of their offices, one of the Four... I mean, one of the people of the inner circle appear?' Ron's face flushed a little at his near slip of the tongue, but luckily Hermione had stamped him on the foot in time below the desk.

Dawlish coughed again.

'First of all...' began the Minister, 'You are not "poking around" in any of the offices – I've already explained this to John,' he nodded towards Dawlish. 'You are to remain completely inconspicuous, and I don't just mean invisible. They must not suspect that anyone has been in the offices at all. Secondly, if you are somehow exposed, you will be forced to stun the person and alter their memory.'

Ron dropped his jaw, and Hermione and Ginny exchanged a meaningful look upon hearing this. Harry was only surprised at how surprised his friends were – as if they hadn't attacked Balthasar Borgin in a Death Eater uniform a few weeks ago.

'This...' said Hermione cautiously, 'is not entirely legal...'

To their surprise, Kingsley smiled.

'The whole investigation is not legal,' he replied. 'Do you have any idea how many similar investigations have been ordered in the last ten years? Well, you'd be surprised! You only have to think of the investigations into werewolves and goblins – I understand you've heard of a few because of the work going on in your department. But that's not even the point,' Kingsley waved his hand, 'the point is that if you're caught, it could cause very serious problems with the International Confederation of Wizards. They could open an investigation, they could exclude Hogwarts from the Triwizard Tournament...'

'What's it got to do with...' Ginny interrupted suddenly, then stopped at the sound of Dawlish coughing. 'Excuse me, Kingsley... But what's Hogwarts got to do with two British wizards being caught in a Durmstrang teacher's office?'

'Hem, hem...'

'For Merlin's sake, John, stop it!' blurted Kingsley, fed up with Dawlish's annoying coughing.

'Apologies, Minster,' the Auror muttered, but Kingsley was no longer listening.

'Ginevra, wizarding schools are always under a Ministry Oversight Committee, so what the Ministry does is officially Hogwarts' business,' Kingsley explained, 'Of course, in reality that's not the case at all, but the point is that if you get caught, it could cause a lot of trouble.'

'They will not catch us!' Ron declared, suddenly very determined.

Harry, looking at his friend, saw in him the old desire to prove himself that he had so often had as a child. He also saw Hermione smirking under her nose, and Ginny raised her eyebrows and looked at Harry.

'I hope so,' nodded the Minister. 'If we can get evidence of the members of the inner circle and the blue-skinned man, then I will have something to bring to the ICW. We can question these black sorcerers and order an international investigation into Marius Prince.'

Dawlish stopped coughing and nodded his head, and Kingsley ended the meeting.

It was a sleepy, windy day on the eighteenth, and only Ginny's insistence on waking him up could get Harry out of bed. Not a part of him wanted to go back to Durmstrang, but again he had to remind himself that he didn't sign up to do whatever he was in the mood to do. He hadn't done so in the past either, and that was actually what he was good at... True, his current task was merely to sit down and watch the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.

'Harry, wake up! It's almost noon,' Ginny said, and in one movement she pulled the covers off Harry, who finally gave in and got up.

'We're not leaving until three...' he said grumpily as he got dressed.

Ginny got behind him in the meantime, and clasping him with her arms, cuddled him tightly. Harry felt that he would have dressed with a lighter heart if he could, but now Ginny was preventing him from doing so.

'Hey guys...' a voice called from the doorway, and Harry and Ginny jerked their heads up in alarm.

Charlie stood in the doorway and Ginny immediately let Harry go.

'Oh... sorry,' Charlie muttered, slightly embarrassed, but grinning. 'It's only Mum saying come on, it's lunchtime.'

'We'll be right there!' Harry replied a little snappish.

Once Charlie's head was out of the picture, they stared at each other. She shrugged, indicating that she didn't care if her brothers saw them together – unlike Harry. Despite the fact that Ron no longer minded a bit when he kissed his sister in front of him, Harry still feared that Bill, George, Percy and of course Mr Weasley would chase him out of the house with the broken broomsticks from the kitchen corner if they found out that there was more than brotherly love between him and their only daughter. This belief was questioned by Charlie's grinning face, but it did not make Harry feel any better. As they walked downstairs to the kitchen, Charlie and the two Weasley parents were whispering about something, and then fell silent as soon as they spotted Harry and Ginny. Mr Weasley, however, showed no sign of moving towards the broomstick or any other tools which could be used for lashing, but instead greeted his daughter and Harry with a wider smile than usual.

Being a Friday, George came over for lunch and, much to the delight of Mrs Weasley, Ginny and Hermione, brought Katie Bell with him. Mrs Weasley was particularly fond of her, perhaps because she knew that George needed someone to be with him at all times.

Katie was loved by all; apart from growing from a slightly ugly, sports-mad girl into a particularly pretty young woman, she swept the family off their feet with her wry sense of humour, for which she found partners most of all in Ron and Ginny.

She was in her element on this day too:

'Wow, looks like someone didn't get much sleep last night!' she chuckled as she saw the sleepy Harry and Ginny. The targets of her mockery only sent her a reproving glance, which she received with another good chuckle.

George, on the other hand, looked like an undertaker next to Katie, dressed in hippie-coloured clothes, in his black robes and sunglasses.

'That's what women are like, right mate?' he said wearily to Harry, patting him on the back as he passed. 'They suck all life out of the men. Like vampires...'

The reward for the remark was a slap from his mother, who immediately ordered everyone to the table. Charlie and Mr Weasley stopped whispering, and at Mrs Weasley's shouting, Ron and Hermione came tumbling down the stairs.

'Ginny, Harry, have you heard the big news?' said Katie, as they all sat down at the dining table and Mrs Weasley let the soup tureen float to the middle of the table.

'What big news?'

'Angelina has been selected for the Holyhead Harpies team!' she spread the news. 'For now, she's still on the reserve team, but who knows? We might be cheering her on soon!'

'Mmm... how lucky,' Ginny muttered, and Harry didn't understand her strange behaviour.

'Apparently a lot of people got invited to a casting,' Katie continued. 'I of course wasn't! Sometimes I think I'm going to spend the rest of my life in that robe shop...'

Dawlish stumbled in a few minutes after lunch, and Harry was momentarily surprised to see the man not with a pile of papers worth a filing cabinet, but with two wands, dressed in simple, warm, comfortable clothes. Besides, he strongly suspected that the wizard's outfit was identical to the tactical attire recommended in the Theoretical Principles of Stealth and Tracking training rulebook, down to his last sock.

Before the portkey arrived, Harry had repeated the map of Durmstrang with Dawlish and Ron, which could not be drawn, so he had them repeatedly show his memories of the school in the Pensieve, and had them practise it orally. At a quarter to three, the portkey arrived and they were ready to go. Harry handed the invisibility cloak to Dawlish, who showed an unusually keen interest in the magical item.

'Take care and good luck!' Mr Weasley said with a serious face as they said goodbye and shook hands with the Auror.

Harry, for his part, thought it was completely unnecessary, as they were unlikely to be gone for more than a few hours. Ron stepped over to his girlfriend.

'Well, I'll see you toni...' he didn't get to finish the sentence because Hermione threw herself on him and kissed him, but with such fierceness that they almost lost their balance. Everyone in the kitchen laughed, except Dawlish, who rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch intently.

'You'd think they won't see each other for a year,' Charlie shook his head, smiling, because Hermione was still clinging to Ron, two hands in his sweater, and he was poking at her messy hair with great relish.

When they finally let go of each other, Ron's watch got caught in her hair and he couldn't get it out. Ginny and Harry were clutching their stomachs laughing, and Mrs Weasley tried to help the pair, but it took minutes to get them apart, with Ron's sweater covered with Hermione's hair and her face red with embarrassment.

'You don't even give me a kiss when I go to the shop!' George put his hands on his hips, staring at Katie from behind his sunglasses with feigned resentment.

'The portkey will start in ten seconds! Get ready!' said Mr Weasley just in time.

The journey to Durmstrang seemed somehow much longer and more unpleasant than last time. Whether this was due to the fact that there were two other people clinging to him under the invisibility cloak, or to the fact that this time the relatively smooth and light-handled toilet seat had been replaced by a rougher and sharper, more utilitarian tin can, Harry wasn't sure. The whirlpool created by the magical travel device swirled and roared like a tornado, lightning crackled around the travellers, tiny bugs of light floated in the void like lanterns...

Harry's feet hit the ground hard, his knees bounced up to his stomach, and then he was sprawled. Ginny landed right on top of him and elbowed him hard in the stomach, making Harry's eyes glaze over for a moment.

'Oh, I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to!' she apologised, and rolled off him. Harry heard a low wail next to his head, indicating that Ron and Dawlish had arrived.

'You can't do it too vell, Harry Potter,' a voice above them said.

As they expected, they were again greeted by Viktor Krum at the lone lantern, who had replaced his recent linen robe with only a knitted turtleneck to warm himself. Harry, for his part, still feared a cruel death by frost.

Ginny quickly glanced over to where Ron's moaning came from, checking for a telltale elbow or shoe hanging out.

'Yeah,' Harry muttered as he got up from the floor and dusted himself off. 'I never had a good sense of balance.'

Krum furrowed his brows.

'I doubt that,' he said with his hands folded. 'You wouldn't be as good a Quidditch player as they say if you didn't have a good balance.'

Harry just shrugged, then they shook hands, and the Bulgarian seeker's face took on a more cheerful look again; Ginny kissed him from right to left, then she took Harry by the arm and they started down the usual path towards Durmstrang. They were at the burnt-out, rock-strewn place when Krum spoke.

'Strange that you didn't come at dawn. It's exhausting, such a long journey.'

'Now we have to sit through the task, Viktor, we don't have to go to a ball,' Ginny replied. Krum nodded his head.

'You may be right,' he said. 'I just thought you were coming with the others.'

'With the others?' Harry frowned.

'Most of the guests,' replied the boy. 'All arrived at dawn.'

Krum was ahead of them, so he couldn't see Harry and Ginny exchanging meaningful glances. So they were the only ones arriving fifteen minutes before the task started, Harry thought. Moloh got scared, but how did he know they were snooping around?

When they came out into the valley, where they had a fine view of the carved tower of Durmstrang, Krum took a path to the left, along the valley ridge towards the sea. The rumbling and thundering grew louder as they made their way towards the shore on the stony path, with treacherous rocks twisting out from underfoot.

Harry could no longer hear Dawlish and Ron huffing behind him, and hoped that they had gone on towards Durmstrang. He hoped they were more successful than he was, but he also doubted it. He was a little ashamed of this, but he pompously thought that if he found nothing, then Dawlish and Ron would find no evidence of a connection between Moloh and the Fourth Tower, or Inner Circle. He also had to remind himself again and again that as much as he disliked Maude Moloh, he was not their real enemy, despite him being a grand master of black magic. Marius Prince was the real enemy, and they are searching Durmstrang to track down the blue-skinned man.

'Fleur stayed at home?' Krum asked as the valley ridge lowered and they continued along a relatively well-maintained road.

'She said she didn't want to leave the baby,' Ginny replied. Krum nodded.

'She didn't have a good time when she was here for the ball.' It was not a question, it was a statement, and Harry had no intention of arguing with him. Fleur was almost constantly afraid of being attacked by an old friend of Voldemort's.

'She said she would have been glad if her school had arranged for the Triwizard Tournament,' the boy continued. 'I'm not so keen to come back here either. I would have preferred to visit Fleur's school in France.'

Harry and Ginny listened in silence to the Bulgarian seeker's words, and stolidly followed him until a large, oval, wooden stadium, not much larger than the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, appeared on the beach. As they got even closer, Harry realised that it was in fact the Durmstrang quidditch pitch itself, in all its glory. Harry noticed the school flag hanging over the entrance to the stadium: a long red tarpaulin with the image of a tall tower on it, with three tiny stars around the top. Now that he saw it enlarged, it differed in some elements from the Dumbledore family crest...

Around the quidditch pitch there were a few people milling around, but the sounds coming from the stands indicated that most of the spectators had already taken their seats. Krum led his guests towards the entrance, and they passed a few huddled groups talking excitedly – Harry could recognize one of the four boys who had sought a quarrel with him the last time; the big, teasing Durmstrang student wasn't looking his way now, but the tall, black-haired boy who had antagonised him in front of Moloh after the brief duel was eyeing him with a piercing glare, as was the short, fat boy next to him. Harry tried to ignore them, and Krum seemed oblivious to them, just ushering his guests into the stadium under the towering flag and up a wooden spiral staircase.

'This is the teachers' section at a Quidditch match,' their guide informed them when they reached the stands.

Like the Hogwarts stadium, there were simple tiered benches for seating, and where they arrived, only teachers, parents and other invited guests were seated. The benches here were somewhat nicer than the ones the students had at Hogwarts, and they were covered with red velvet to make them more comfortable.

Harry and Ginny stopped at the top of the stairs and just looked around, but Krum pointed to the very top of the rows of benches.

'There are free seats for you,' he said. 'Madam Ula has reserved two for you.'

'Thank you, Viktor.'

Krum wished them a good entertainment, then moved up a row and joined his Durmstrang friends. Five or six rows in front of him there were five chairs for the three directors (Madame Maxime and Moloh had each two seats; McGonagall huddled between them as if surrounded by two fierce bodyguards), and in front of them the organisers, including Percy, and a moderator, who kept looking at his watch. Harry searched his eyes for Hagrid, first next to Madame Maxime, his portly fiancée, then around the auditorium, but he saw his friend nowhere. Then he thought that Hagrid must be feeding the Abraxans and that was why he was late.

They made their way up the long staircase between the rows of benches, and Professor Ulatov waved when she saw them. The Deputy Headmistress could barely be seen from behind the people in front of her, and Harry couldn't understand why she was so far back.

'Mr Potter! Oh but it's good to see you again!' Madam Ula greeted him when they reached him. 'Last time you left in such a hurry, I hoped you would at least stay for breakfast.'

Harry was a little embarrassed, although Professor Ulatov's kind smile gave him no reason to be. He didn't know how much the professor had heard about the incident between him and the Durmstrang students and Moloh during the ball.

'The thing is, we had to hurry because we all wanted to spend Christmas together,' he lied.

'I understand,' Professor Ulatov continued to smile, then patted the chair beside her as Harry and Ginny took their seats.

All around the stadium, excited children's faces could be seen, but Harry's attention was now much more focused on the redesigned interior of the pitch.

At the time when Hogwarts hosted the Triwizard Tournament, the Quidditch pitch was set up for the final task, the maze test. This time, however, the lines painted on the green turf remained unchanged, except that the pitch was strewn with a jumble of rocks, stones, pebbles and all sorts of things that Harry called rubbish. There was a long length of rope, a fishing net spread out, some wooden crates, one of which was moving continually as if it were hiding some living creature, and in the middle of the pitch was a fancy cube-shaped box.

'What do they want with all this crap?' he whispered in Ginny's ear.

'Maybe they have to turn them into something,' she speculated. 'Or maybe they have to build something out of them, using magic, and that's what the judges score.'

'Doesn't sound very exciting...' Harry muttered, thinking of the underwater test.

The whole time the competition was being held in German, so neither Harry nor Ginny understood a word of it. They made politely interested faces and looked round the stands – Harry often glanced towards the half-giant Moloh, who made a face as if he knew of no more unnecessary activity than a Triwizard Tournament.

Professor Ulatov then leaned towards them.

'What do you know about the second task, my dears?' she asked them.

'Nothing really, Madam Ula,' Ginny admitted.

The deputy director immediately launched into an explanation as the competitors lined up on the sidelines; Dennis Creevey was so small compared to his competitors that Harry thought for a moment he was seeing himself next to Fleur and Cedric or Viktor. Each of the three contestants was holding a broom – as Harry could see from a distance, it was a very old, Shooting Star type.

'The champions' task is to open that chest.' Madam Ula pointed a finger, long for her stature, at the box in the middle of the starting circle. 'In it is an object they will need for the third task to win the cup. The other rocks, ropes and nets will prevent them from getting it.'

'And all this on broomsticks?' Ginny asked, a little surprised.

'Exactly.'

'That does sound exciting,' Harry raised his eyebrows.

'It's going to be very exciting, you'll see,' said the professor. 'Beauxbatons organised this event and I can tell you they did a great job. Olympe Maxime whispered to me that they had already wanted this event as the final chord at the last Triwizard Tournament. She said that the players there should have caught the Triwizard Cup.'

'And why did they change it anyway?' Ginny asked, while Harry wondered how much better such a test would have been, since then they wouldn't have been able to grab the cup together with Cedric. He would have gone to the cemetery alone, and he would have had his broom with him – he could have escaped Voldemort before the trouble happened...

Professor Ulatov laughed good-naturedly.

'They decided to do the maze test because they were afraid that our Viktor would have too big of an advantage!' she smiled proudly.

Our Viktor, Harry was pondering because of these words. Karkaroff spoke of the Bulgarian Quidditch talent with similar admiration. The teachers seemed to be unanimous in their fondness for their famous pupil, but Harry suspected he was not so popular with the other students.

The whistle blew. Harry saw the organisers in the front row, including Percy, stand up and point their wands at the pitch, muttering incantations. At the beckoning of the first organiser, stones, rocks and pebbles rose into the air and began to move in and out of the air, as if thousands of Bludgers were scurrying about in search of possible targets. The second organiser set the rope and net in motion – they did not rise into the air, but just began to move like the agitated crate. Percy flicked his wand at the cubic box in the middle, and it flew up into the air and began to spin with mad speed. It whizzed through the air with the swiftness of a Snitch, Harry could barely follow it with his eyes. The audience shouted "ohhh" and the moderator raised his voice again.

'He says they are dedicating this task to the anniversary of the founding of the first French Quidditch team,' Madam Ula translated his words. 'The winner is the one who catches the chest and opens it... Everyone has a key... They have a key hanging around their neck that opens the box,' she tried to shout over the loudspeaker so that Harry and Ginny would understand what she was saying.

Meanwhile, the competitors got their brooms between their legs and prepared for the start.

'To obtain the chest, they can use any duelling spells and charms,' Professor Ulatov explained further, 'excluding unforgivable curses and spells that cause serious injury. Anyone attempting to do so will be immediately disqualified from the competition.'

'What is a serious injury?' Ginny blinked worriedly at the hurtling rocks.

Harry snorted and leaned close to her, shouting in her ear, 'Skull crushing, mutilation, disembowelling, and the like are all still possible...'

'Now he says that the old quidditch matches were a wild mixture of ball handling and duelling...' continued the translation service of the deputy director. 'This is what they would like to revive with this dangerous and spectacular test...'

'Well, they have some catching up to do after the latest sea of boredom,' Ginny remarked quietly, so that only Harry could hear.

'Somehow, the labyrinth test didn't seem so boring to me...' he said, and she looked ashamed.

'I'm sorry,' she apologized, 'but you don't know how boring it was to watch the second and third task. We just sat and sat, waiting for you to show up...'

Ginny's words were interrupted by a second whistle. The champions kicked off the ground and the crowd erupted in rabid cheers. Everyone cheered loudly for their favourites, Harry and Ginny were shouting the name of Dennis, who was fiercely dodging the rocks that were trying to push him off his broom. It was not an easy task for the boy, for not only did he have to handle the broom, but he also had to wield the wand with his left hand if he was not to dodge every boulder. He aimed at a massive stone flying towards him, and blew it to pieces; with his arm he protected himself from the fragments of stone, which, after he had passed them, were again crushed together into a huge boulder, which now flew after the Durmstrang champion.

The French girl had the best position, far ahead of her two opponents, but still far from the box high up in the air. Immediately after taking off, she used her wand to charm a large stone to spun around her like a planet around the sun, deflecting any obstacles in her path.

Dragomir, the Durmstrang champion, chose an effective but slow tactic: he cast a strong shield spell around himself and moved forward like a tank, aiming for the top; the stones and rocks burst on the shield and he himself was protected, but he was very far behind the other two contestants. Harry thought that the Durmstrang boy was hoping his opponents might be crushed or injured in their dangerous stunts.

The Durmstrang champion's cautious tactics seemed to work, for the French champion's advance halted: as she flew over the long, twitching rope, it rose up and wrapped itself around her, binding her tightly, her wand-holding hand clutched to her torso.

Harry's mind flashed back to an old memory - a fiery rope wrapped around a figure in black robes, who just waves his wand, and the rope turns into a snake and unwinds from him...

The Beauxbatons champion, however, had no control over the rope; she slowly descended as if she were sinking in water, tugging wildly on the rope, which only twisted more. Harry noticed that the rocks weren't attacking the defenceless girl, but were instead targeting the other champions – apparently the aim was not to wipe out the champions now, he thought.

'Go Dennis!' screamed Ginny from beside him.

The failure of the French girl put the Hogwarts champion in the lead, but Dennis had already picked up a few minor injuries. His robe had been torn by a stone that had exploded too close, and an enchanted fishing net was persistently chasing him through the air, as if some invisible butterfly collector was trying to catch the nimble insect.

Dennis swerved to the left and whipped his wand over his head; one of the rocks that had just flown towards him instead hit the net, which now fell like a heavy packet towards the ground. The crowd applauded at the feat, and Dennis pointed his broom skywards again, towards the cube that spun where the dismantled Quidditch poles had been.

The net dodge brought the Durmstrang champion closer, pushing like a snowplow the rocks in front of him, which had no time to reassemble, breaking apart on the magic shield. Dennis was preoccupied with the other obstacles, so he did not recognise the impending danger in the form of the Durmstrang champion. When Dragomir got close enough, he broke the shield spell and immediately swung his wand. The distancing spell sent the tiny fragments crashing down on Dennis, who caught most of it in the back and tumbled forward onto his broom. His pained wailing was lost in the angry roar of the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons supporters, and the cheers of the Durmstrang ones.

'This is illegal!' Harry shouted at the top of his voice. 'Disqualify him!'

'You said mutilation was okay!' joked Ginny, but she was whistling along with the Hogwarts fans.

Harry saw the three organisers, including Percy, put their heads together and talk about something, but in the end the referee didn't blow his whistle and the race went on.

Now the Durmstrang champion got ahead and, putting on his shield up again, moved forward towards the cube-shaped spinning box. Dennis, having regained his composure, immediately aimed for his opponent's back, but his curse bounced off the shield, as did the stones.

'Tackle him! Protego and tackle him!' shouted Harry, though there was no way Dennis could hear him over the din. Ginny stared at Harry, eyes wide, and he started to laugh. He had to admit that he was actually having a lot of fun watching.

Dennis swept upwards with his broom as fast as he could, but the Durmstrang champion had too much of a lead – he stretched out his arm and caught the spinning box. His joy didn't last long, for the moment he reached it, the lid of the other boxes on the floor below snapped open, and from it sprang a small magical contraption resembling a swarm of mosquitoes; Harry could only tell they weren't real mosquitoes because they glistened metallic in the light of the wands. They pounced on the wizard, and in a flash they were all over him. The spectators could see nothing but a metallic, shapeless cloud, with an occasional flapping limb visible.

'Give it to him! Now!' shouted Harry along with the crowd, and Dennis did so.

He took advantage of the fact that his opponent's shield spell was broken and cast a body freezing curse. The curse came off so powerful that not only Dragomir, but all the metal insects were frozen in mid-air. The way up was clear, he only had to dodge the rocks as they reassembled, and soon Dennis had the chest in his hands. The crowd went wild as the boy fumbled with the lock, and no one seemed to notice that the Beauxbatons champion had freed herself from the rope and was now hurtling towards him with her wand out.

'Watch out! Behind you!' Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs, making Harry's ears hurt.

The French fans erupted in cheers when their champion's well-directed knockback jinx knocked the box out of Dennis' hands. The crate flew the length of the pitch, the lock already containing Dennis' key, which the boy managed to force into among the showering stones.

The Beauxbatons champion darted under Dennis after the chest, but he was on the alert: just before she could catch it, he flicked his wand, causing the cubic box to bounce off an invisible shield and she missed it by a foot. The box fell back into the hands of Dennis, who hurried ahead of her, and who quickly opened it, extracted another key, and held it up.

The referee's whistle blew got lost to the cheers of the crowd, the celebration of the Hogwarts students, who cheered, whistled and drummed. Ginny jumped on the bench and threw herself into Harry's neck. Professor Ulatov applauded politely beside them, but there was obvious disappointment on her face that the Durmstrang champion had been badly beaten this time.

When the cheering died down, to the insistent roar of the moderator, the jury announced the result. As expected, Dennis got the most points and went straight into first place, while the Beauxbatons champion got the fewest, but still came second overall, and the Durmstrang champion was bottom of the table, just one point behind second place. The red-robed students left the stadium dejected, while the Hogwarts students left singing. Harry discovered that they were singing a rewritten version of the old Weasley Is Our King song, which had since been turned into Creevey Is Our King.

Harry and Ginny left the stands with Percy and Madam Ula, talking about the race with such enthusiasm that Harry forgot all about Ron and Dawlish's action.

'It was a great task, wasn't it?' grinned Percy, who looked as pleased as if he had won the task himself.

'It was exciting,' Harry said, and he was glad that for once he didn't have to lie to be polite.

They walked out of the stadium together, following the teachers and invited guests, while the students streamed out through the other three entrances of the pitch. They passed a group of children, and Harry recognised the unlikeable foursome again. The boys were walking not far ahead of them, and two of them were talking loudly about something. The tall one with black hair and the short fat one were trailing behind their two loud-voiced companions with their hands in their pockets.

'Where is Hagrid?' Ginny said, reminding Harry that the gamekeeper had not appeared for a moment during the competition.

'Don't you know?' looked Percy at them, when he heard his sister. Harry and Ginny stared at him.

'Hagrid's gone home,' Percy announced, 'He took his favourite thestral, Tenebru, and flew home with him back in early January.'

Harry and the girl looked at each other. What could this mean? Harry could think of two things: either he was making wedding preparations for the busy Madame Maxime, or the proposal hadn't gone well and Hagrid was now huddled in his hut at home, drinking until he passes out. Harry didn't want to ask Percy what the truth was, and the boy didn't look like he knew the answer anyway.

'He must have gotten tired of the tournament,' shrugged Percy, 'after all, he's been with Madame Maxime's horses all day... By the way, Madame Maxime has been a nervous wreck since Hagrid left. I think it must be the local gamekeeper, Gronhold: he has no idea how to keep a purebred Abraxan. I remember the other day...'

Percy went into a lengthy discussion about the proper way to keep a winged horse and the Durmstrang's gamekeeper's skills, but neither Harry nor Ginny paid him any attention. So Madame Maxime has been a nervous wreck ever since Hagrid left... It seems the proposal really hadn't gone well, Harry thought. He knew he should be sad about it, yet deep down he was a little glad that Hagrid wasn't moving down to the sunny French coast where he would spend the rest of his life raising four-foot children, half a dozen monster-loving little Hagrid's...

The crowds streaming out of the stadium on four roads met on their way to Durmstrang and slowed down. Harry and many others stopped, letting the queue move towards the school. Everyone was chatting, laughing, some pushing, and Harry suddenly became aware that he could hear English among the mingled German conversations.

'What do you say you about another school?'

'Which one?' came a deep voice.

'The one where director was killed last week...'

Harry picked his head up and began to listen, stepping away from Ginny slightly, both so that the four Durmstrang bullies talking wouldn't see him and so that he could hear them better.

'You're talking about the Greek school,' said the tall black-haired boy, asked by his companion with a heavy accent, the one who had nudged Harry.

'Yes that.'

'Someone allegedly broke into the director's room in the middle of the night and killed him.'

He had no accent at all, and his slow, halting speech was very familiar to Harry.

The other boy snorted derisively, and turned back to push one of the younger boys in the back for not moving in the queue. He shouted in German, then shouted something in another Slavic-sounding language.

The fat boy tugged at the robe of his tall companion, and he looked at him.

'What is it?' he asked her.

'Are you sure my uncle is not here?'

He also spoke in perfect English, which surprised Harry: would so many Brits study at Durmstrang?

'I told you I burned his invitation before it was sent to him,' the tall boy replied. He spoke to him as if he were talking to a little boy in his care – understanding and patience in his voice. 'Don't worry so much! He has no idea you're here.'

'Okay...'

Harry found this little conversation more than interesting. The queue slowly moved again, and the crowd continued to trickle towards the Durmstrang tower. The sun was already setting behind the horizon, and the cold night came again. The students' path was marked by the light of wands, Ginny and Percy had lit theirs, but Harry was too preoccupied to think of it.

By the time they got to the Durmstrang entrance, it was more than just an idea – he was sure he knew what the conversation before meant. And with it, a plan formulated in his mind. He could not use the information they had obtained from Borgin for the Ministry, but he had a chance to get proof for himself. When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Durmstrang tower, Harry pushed his way forward in the crowd and shouted that the Durmstrang foursome must be able to hear him clearly:

'DRACO MALFOY!'

The black-haired boy froze on the stairs, as if Harry hadn't even shouted the name of his classmate, but a body-binding curse. The fat boy flinched and looked back at him with a gaping mouth, and his taller companion almost turned around, but then he overcame his apparent compulsion and walked on, dragging his short friend behind him.

No one else paid much attention to the name, or to the fact that someone was calling someone – there were many others in the crowd looking for friends besides Harry.

Harry grinned in satisfaction; Borgin had told the truth. And he also had a guess as to who might be posing as the fat boy...

A warm hand touched his shoulder.

'What was that, Harry?' Ginny asked him.

'Let's just say that a former Death Eater has found himself a disciple,' he replied.

'What do you mean...?'

But then something unexpected happened: in the distance, less than a hundred metres behind the Durmstrang tower, a fire shot up from the ground, as if a small volcano was erupting. The ground shook, but only just enough to make the younger students scream. Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and dug her fingernails into it, but Percy squealed in a way that would have made a five-year-old girl envious. The fire was golden and burst into a whirlwind, then suddenly dissipated.

Professor Ulatov stepped out of the line and took a few steps towards the phenomenon, but then stopped and just stared. Harry left Ginny and walked over to her. He saw the professor's face show a look of profound bewilderment for a moment, but when he looked at her, she immediately straightened her features.

'Oh... don't worry... it must be Professor Fnugg, our Charms teacher,' said the deputy headmistress. 'He mentioned this morning that he wasn't coming to the tournament to finish on of his experiments... I think he got a bit over the top. Principal Moloh will not be pleased...'

Professor Ulatov had a look of genuine concern in her eyes, yet Harry could not believe her. When she saw the now extinguished fire, her face reflected something else. The professor patted Harry's arm and led him back to the line, while the other teachers sorted the children out, others went to see the scene of the incident.

'What the hell is this?' Ginny asked in a slightly hysterical voice. 'If they've discovered Ron...'

'Shh!' shushed Harry, because Percy was nearby.

'It looked like a magical eruption,' Percy said with an expert seriousness, perhaps to regain his dignity, 'Someone must have been experimenting recklessly...'

'That's also what Madame Ula said.'

Harry still thought there was something else behind it, but he didn't say anything in front of the wizard. He feared the same thing Ginny did: that the magical eruption was due to Ron and Dawlish, that they might have discovered they were there, and that they might have been caught.

But his worries were premature: they met Ron and Dawlish in front of the intricately carved entrance to Durmstrang. His friend and the Auror sidled up to them and tapped Ginny on the shoulder in the cloak's concealment, causing her to jump with fright.

'What happened?' asked Harry immediately.

'We've run into some kind of spell,' he heard Ron's voice, confirming his hunch.

'For a moment the fire surrounded us, but then it was gone,' whispered Dawlish.

There was a few minutes of frozen silence, then:

'Hey, my sweater's sleeve is on fire!' Ron said, a little louder than he should have. Some of the nearer students, and even Professor Ulatov, turned towards them, and Harry tried to pretend he had said it.

'On fire? From what?' Ginny stared wide-eyed at the spot where she suspected her brother and the Auror were.

'I have no idea!'

'Put it out!'

'What do you think I'm doing?'

'Stop the conversation, you're risking the entire mission!' Dawlish snapped at them as quietly as he could. For the first time, Harry felt the Auror's temper flare.

It was already dark night, the stars were shining in the sky, and Harry felt a soft breeze fluttering his robes, sending a chill down his spine and making the hair stand up on his arms. Ginny's teeth were chattering beside him.

'Did anyone notice you?' she asked their companions, fanning the smoke away that billowed from under the cloak of invisibility.

'I don't think it probable,' Dawlish informed her in an official tone. 'Mr Weasley, were you successful with the extinguishing?'

'Certainly, Mr Dawlish, I've carried out the operation,' Ron mimicked his pompous voice, then switched back to complaining. 'Now look, my watch is broken! I've got soot all over the dial! Also on the sleeve of my sweater...'

'Shut up!', Ginny hissed at him, as more and more people around them began to notice their strange little interlude. 'Viktor has arrived. We're going home. We'll talk there.'