Harry bounded down the steps next to Ron, Hermione trailing behind at a more modest pace. They were hoping to get good seats for the final event.
"Would you two slow down?" Hermione called after them, exasperated.
"Would you hurry up!?" Ron called right back, matching her inflection. "We're going to miss the good seats!"
Hermione shook her head, as though at wits end. "I've already told you, Jason and Mike are already saving us seats." Sometimes she wondered if Ron just pretended to be awake during conversations.
"And!?" Ron looked to Harry for encouragement at the same time Hermione looked to him for help. He didn't want to encourage Ron, but he'd be lying if he said he wanted to just mosey over to the Quidditch pitch.
"I-" he started, but was saved from siding against Hermione by Professor Moody.
"Harry," Moody called from across the hall, his bad limp ever present. "Gonna steal you away from your friends here for a bit," he grunted, rubbing his chest in obvious discomfort as he came to a stop.
"What's going on professor?" Harry asked, concerned about missing the beginning of the tournament. "The third task is supposed to start soon." Moody gave him an incredulous look.
"Of course it is, wha'd'you think I need you for?" Moody replied, beckoning Harry to follow. "Dumbledore has some last minute enchantments he'd like me to work on, an excellent chance for you to get some real world experience."
"Er-I don't have a wand right now," Harry said, actually feeling a little dejected at the idea of missing out. Moody had been a superb teacher over the last several months and the idea of missing out on a valuable lesson, even one during the beginning stages of the final task, left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Weasley," Moody barked, causing the redhead to jump. "You don't mind if Potter uses your wand for a bit, do you?" Ron hesitated for a moment, but when he saw the hopeful look on Harry's face, he relented.
"Don't break it," he said, handing the wand to Harry, and only half-joking.
"Thanks, boy," Moody clapped Ron on the back forcefully, turning and starting down the hall. Harry had to run to catch up.
Brad finished lacing his boots and sat back against the wall. There had been no sign of his attacker, which was interesting. Phantom team led the effort, directing some thirty soldiers as they combed through the Forbidden Forest.
The closest they came was finding Professor Moody out there, also hunting the attacker. He'd seen it on an enchanted map and came running. That was it. Crouch was dead and they had no leads.
Well, nothing to be done about it now, anyway. He grabbed the plate carrier and slid it on, tightening it down until it was comfortable. He already had his sidearm on, so he just set about making sure everything was in place and easy to reach.
After that, he grabbed his helmet, complete with its S.P.E.W patch on the side, and clipped it in place. The night optics were already on and the armorer had mounted a helmet camera on the side as well. It had been a request from that Ministry goober, Bagman. When the man had learned they existed, he'd stopped just short of demanding one, practically salivating at the idea that the audience could see everything up close. He'd spent a fair amount of time fantasizing about what he'd do to the bastard that mentioned them to Bagman.
Finally, Brad grabbed his rifle, sliding a fresh, red-striped magazine in place. He left chambering a round for later, he didn't need a hot weapon at the moment. Clipping the weapon to the sling, he headed to the Quidditch pitch.
The rest of the champions were presumably already behind the stadium, where several little tents had been placed. They wanted a place where the champions could visit with their families before the big event. He waved at Cedric and his dad. Krum was already in his tent.
"Bonjour, Capitan," a familiar, melodic voice called from one of the tent flaps. Apolline Delacour stepped out, her arms outstretched for a hug. Not a maneuver easily accomplished in full gear, but she wasn't deterred. She pulled him into a tight hug and held it until he hugged her back, then sighed contentedly. When they broke apart, she fidgeted with his collar in a matronly way that all at once left him embarrassed and a little comforted, which only served to embarrass him further.
"Good to see you again, ma'am," Brad greeted her with a smile. She gave him a pointed look, holding the gaze until he relented. "Apolline," he corrected.
"Better," she smiled. "It's good to see you too. If you're not too busy, the rest of us are in the tent here." She gestured toward the tent she'd just exited. He didn't think he had any pressing concerns. The event didn't start for another hour or so. He'd already talked to his former team and Harry's wand was sitting in his chest harness, ready to meet the requirements.
"Yeah, that sounds nice." She twirled and headed back into the tent, and he followed her. Inside, he felt completely out of place.
Fleur was dressed in her blue jumpsuit. Apolline and Henri were both dressed in fine dress robes and Gabby wore a floral patterned dress. His battle rattle felt like a bit much, especially when all of the attention turned his way.
Fleur was the first to greet him, hopping over to give him a peck on the cheek. It was one of the only areas he had skin available. If the show of affection bothered her parents, they hid it well.
"Good to see you again, son," Henri greeted him, extending a rough hand for a shake. Brad took it, and smiled back.
"It's good to see you too," he replied, surprised by how much he meant it. They were kind people.
"Oh, regarde tout ça!" Gabrielle exclaimed, making no effort to hide the staring at his gear. He chuckled at it. "What is that?" She pointed to his helmet.
He bent over, unbuckling the helmet and beckoning her closer. "This is my helmet. It keeps my head safe." He handed it to her and she examined every surface. After a moment and with permission from Henri, he lead Gabby outside. He buckled the helmet to her head, then pushed the night optics down.
"Magnifique...maman, maman, je vois comme il fait jour!" she exclaimed excitedly, drawing the rest of the family from the tent. They each took turns looking through the optics and he enjoyed showing them some of the gear. Gabby was full of questions, asking about the rifle, the magazines, his SOLDA device, the radio, everything she could think of.
He was startled when the first horn sounded, letting the champions know it was time to get to the front of the stands in preparation for the final task. The time had really slipped by.
"Good luck," Apolline kissed Fleur on both cheeks and gave her a tight hug. Fleur hugged back, then did the same with her father. Brad turned to leave and allow them their moment. He'd made it almost to the tent flap before an arm on his elbow stopped him. Apolline pulled him into another awkward hug through his gear. "Good luck to you, as well." She seized both of his shoulders and gave him an appraising look, and finally nodded her approval.
"Take care out there," Henri said, embracing Brad in a hug as well. He didn't know if his discomfort showed or not, but he pushed himself through it. The affection was kind of nice and he didn't want them to feel bad about it.
"See you guys later," Brad said lamely, not really certain what else to say. Henri and Apolline both smiled at him as though he'd imparted some great wisdom. Gabby gave him a little salute, which he returned.
Fleur fell into step beside him as they headed to the front of the stadium. "I can't believe we are already here," she said just loud enough that he could hear it, though only just. As they closed in on the stadium, the roar of the crowd got louder and louder, stomping feet and chants of pride from students were echoing throughout the school grounds.
"Me either," Brad stopped, grabbing her hand to keep her with him for that little bit longer, even though he couldn't feel the softness of her fingers through his shooting gloves. "Stay safe out there." She smiled at him and leaned in part way for a kiss. He had to stoop awkwardly to keep from hitting her with his rifle or night optics, but the kiss was well worth the effort.
"You too," she said, the last words they would speak to one another before the task. It was just too loud for practical conversation after that. They walked hand-in-hand until they reached the front of the stadium, where they gave each other one more knowing look, then headed separate ways.
Fleur joined Krum and Cedric in the center of the opening, alongside Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Professor Moody. Brad headed over to the giant screen that was displaying a generic [no signal] text.
"Captain," Colonel Sumner greeted him. "You ready?"
"Fit to fight, sir." Brad replied, shifting his mindset back to 'warrior.' He cracked his neck, getting loose and ready for the coming battle.
"I can't say anything about what you're gonna face in there," Sumner said, looking Brad straight in the eye, deadly serious, "but I can say this. You watch your six in there and get out in one piece. You don't need to win this damned thing, just participate."
"Understood," Brad nodded. It was hard not to compete though. He had an all or nothing mindset. He didn't dip his toe into battles, he kicked the door in with both feet. Still, knowing that Hagrid had supplied some of the challenges in there made him weary.
"Good luck, Captain." Sumner stepped aside, letting a technician start adjusting something on the side of Brad's helmet. After a few moments, the giant screen began displaying a close up view of the tech's face, who ducked off screen quickly. The crowd reacted to the feed by cheering loudly. As he'd been told to expect, they too were enthusiastic about getting an up close view.
Once the tech gave him the thumbs up that said he was ready, he turned and headed to the spot where the rest of the champions were waiting. He naturally drifted nearer to Fleur, stopping when Bagman started clapping and raising his hands to get the crowd cheering more. For a few moments the crowd went wild. Bagman certainly knew how to get them revved up.
"Okay, okay, okay," he announced, his wand held to his throat. His voice projected loud enough that everyone could hear it and the crowd fell silent much quicker than Brad had thought possible. "Thank you all for coming to see our four champions here," he gestured to each of them in turn, "as they compete in the final task."
"We've come a long way, and now, the champions will face their most difficult challenge yet!" There were oohh's and aahh's from the crowd and Bagman pressed on. "This is more than just a maze that they must get through. Danger lurks around every corner, and once they set foot inside the maze, everything will be trying to stop them from winning!"
The crowd erupted in pleased cheering as Bagman raised his hands again, encouraging the rowdy behavior. He reveled in it for a moment before turning his attention to the four champions. He beckoned them closer and talked to them, just loud enough that they could hear.
"Just like we talked about, Captain Gordon and Cedric will go at the sound of the first cannon. Cedric on the left, Brad on the right. Then Victor, then Fleur. If you run into too much trouble inside the maze and you fear for your life or your safety, fire red sparks into the air. We have people standing by, just in case. Any questions?"
There were none.
"Very well, get in position." He gestured to Brad and Cedric, who both went over to their respective entrances.
Once Brad was in place he rolled his neck back and forth and stretched his legs. The seconds grew longer as last minute checks were performed. The opening ahead of him was dark, menacing.
When Bagman signaled to check and see if Cedric was ready, the boy gave a thumbs up. Brad racked the chamber, readying his rifle.
When Bagman signaled him, he responded by pulling the NODs down over his eyes and mirroring the thumbs up. He shouldered his rifle at low ready and leaned in toward the opening in the hedges. They were clearly visible, crisp. No more nooks for creatures to hide in. He owned the night.
BOOM! He felt the vibration in his chest as the cannon sounded and he pushed forward into the hedges. The roaring of the crowd deadened as he passed the hedge walls. He risked a glance back and saw that they had grown closed behind him.
He was alone now and acutely aware of it. After the near-constant roaring of the crowd, the complete silence was eerie. A thin fog swirled around the ground at ankle height, easily visible through the crisp view of his optics. He started forward, slowly and methodically.
"Where is Harry!?" Ron exclaimed, craning his neck to look through the crowd of spectators, before ultimately returning his attention to the giant screen. Everything was tinted in the same blue-white hue that mimicked what Brad was seeing through his night vision.
"He's probably just watching alongside the Professor," Hermione said reassuringly, half to convince him and half for herself.
"I'll go see if I can find him," Jason said from next to her, pushing through the uproarious crowd before she could reply. She wondered if he felt uneasy not having anyone watching Harry.
Boom! She jumped, not expecting the cannon blast. Mike rubbed her back reassuringly as Krum burst into the maze. Just like it had before, the hedges closed after he entered and another spot opened up. Fleur stepped up and readied herself.
Something about not having Harry here for the tournament left her feeling uneasy and she was glad that Jason went to look for him. She'd feel a lot better once this whole tournament was over.
The path was only straight for a few dozen feet before splitting into three separate paths. The first led to the left at a perpendicular angle to the one he was currently on. The next continued straight ahead and the third appeared to more or less offshoot to the right a bit. He didn't think he needed to fix something that wasn't broken, so he continued straight.
The fog dipped and swirled around the ground at ankle level. It was unnerving not being able to see the ground. He tried not to worry about things like tripwires, but caught himself checking anyway. Tripwires weren't a very wizardly thing to use, but he could absolutely see there being a giant pit in the ground or something similar.
Finally, the path leading straight ahead ended. He stacked near the hedge, first peering across the opening to the right, then leaning to the left. Both directions appeared deserted and he wondered when the other shoe was going to drop-
"Huuuunnngeeerrr," a raspy voice whispered from the darkness to his left. It made his decision much easier and he opted for the path to the right. Some things you just didn't mess with.
This path twisted and turned and his progress was slow. He wasn't about to blindly charge around one of these corners. A couple times he heard the rush of footsteps and panting from the other side of the hedges, but he didn't actually come across anything interesting.
At the end of that path, he went with his gut and took the path to the right again. He had made it all of two or three steps before he noticed his boots were sinking ankle deep into some kind of muck. It was a pain in the ass and he almost dipped his rifle barrel into the muck when he lost his balance, but he managed to get out of it before it became much of a problem.
Damned maze. He turned and took the other path to the left. Here, the swirling fog seemed to whip and raise in a storm of wind that he couldn't feel, sometimes reaching as high as his knees. The walls of hedge, darker here than he'd noticed previously and easily ten to twelve feet high, had grown at an angle, leaving the tops of each wall closer than the bottom. It gave the whole area the feel of oppression and he couldn't wait to get through it.
A short, dark figure took shape within the fog, disappearing by the time he'd sighted down with his rifle. He stood there for a moment, staring at the spot and waiting for any discernible motion. He thought he noticed something at the walls a few times and glanced over, but he just wasn't seeing anything. The sound of a wind he couldn't feel, rushing through the leaves of the hedges, started getting louder. Being alone was getting to him.
He started forward again, expedience winning out over caution for the moment, when he felt something hard brush against his leg, somewhere in the whipping fog. He had to fight away the panic that threatened to take hold of him. He turned to where he felt it, angling the rifle down and backing to the closest wall. The sound was louder now. Still, through the fog, he could see nothing.
Then two things happened simultaneously, though it took him a second to process them. First, he started to become aware that something was off about the sound. It didn't actually sound like wind at all, more like a chittering. Second, he was aware of a growing pressure on his shoulders.
Taking a step forward, he felt the pressure on his shoulders suddenly increase and several long legs reached around his arms and waist as something heavy smacked into his back. The thing chittered loudly from right behind his neck and he twirled hard, flinging the thing off of him and bringing the rifle to bare.
He had it raised just in time to see what had to be the biggest fucking spider he'd ever seen in his life as it plunged into the fog, back the way he'd come. It was then that everything clicked together. The hedges weren't somehow darker in this area. They were covered in giant motherfucking spiders.
"Fuck," Brad managed as his breath escaped from his lungs. Now that his brain knew how to interpret what he was seeing, the walls were crawling with the damned things. He didn't have the firepower to stand there in the open. Instead he turned and ran, feeling a spindly pair of legs grabbing at his boot as he took his first step.
"Shit, shit, shit," Brad cried out, punctuating each step with another curse. The chittering was getting louder behind him and every few steps he felt one of the legs grip at him. "Shit, shit, shitshitshitshitSHIT!" Brad felt several legs grabbing at his waist and for a second, he thought that he was about to get into a CQC fight with a spider, pretty much a nightmare scenario, but the legs suddenly disappeared from his waist and he was free.
He ran several feet more before risking a glance behind himself, looking in time to see a spider that was easily twice as big as the one that he'd flung off of his back as it hurled itself into the air after him. It bounced off of some invisible surface and back into the deeper fog. A convulsion shook through him before he regained control of himself.
"God, I hate magic," Brad sighed to himself, fighting to return his breathing to a more normal rate. He shouldered the rifle and turned in the only direction he could go...forward.
The fog thinned as he continued onward. He turned left, then right, then right, then straight on, again in a slow moving and methodical approach. He couldn't help really checking the walls, too. He'd made it to the point where the fog was almost non-existent, just a kind of haze on the ground. He could see the dewey grass now and it left him comfortable picking up the pace.
As he reached another T-intersection, he glanced to the right. There he saw a pool of still water that covered the entire path for about fifteen feet or so, a long, thin pole stretching straight down the center from one end to the other. A balance beam. He could only imagine what was in the water.
To the left, he saw a dark figure on the ground. Simultaneously deciding that he didn't want to walk a fifteen foot balance beam and that he didn't want to leave whatever this was behind him, he trained the rifle on the figure.
"Move and I'll shoot!" Brad called out, not wanting to just blast the figure outright. It didn't stir, so he advanced. He moved quickly and with practiced ease. He was still several feet away when he caught sight of the figures face. It was Victor Krum.
Brad dropped to a knee and did a more thorough check of his surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing was making any noise. He crept closer until he reached Krum, then rolled the boy to his back.
He hadn't expected it, but the body rolled like a statue, completely stiff. His wand was still gripped tightly in his fingers and he had a confused look on his face.
He instinctively pushed his fingers to Krum's throat and felt the steady, strong beat of the boy's heart. He was alive, at least. After one more quick glance around himself, he let his rifle hang from the harness. He pulled the flare gun from a pouch on his vest and fired off one of the red flares, then reloaded it. Just in case.
"Someone will be with you in a minute, buddy," Brad said, not sure if Krum could hear him or not. He grabbed his rifle and continued onward, wondering what got him. Did he need to worry about a damned Gorgon or had someone gotten a little competitive?
Further down the way, he reached a clearing of sorts. He stepped in, pushing to the right immediately and checking that corner of the clearing for threats. When he saw nothing he started turning to the center, methodically examining the whole area.
He made it to the corner of the small clearing by the time his rifle, which pointed everywhere he looked, had made it to the far edge of the clearing. It was there that he made out the shape of someone standing with their back to him.
It took several long steps backwards towards him, immediately setting him on edge. Through his optics, he could see it had long, light hair and it was dressed in some kind of flowing robe. Its neck twitched a couple times as it edged closer, taking impossibly long steps backward, and Brad slid his finger into the trigger guard.
"Stop!" Brad commanded loudly, and to his surprise, the thing did. Brad took a couple steps forward and out of the corner, giving himself room to maneuver if he needed it. Aimed at the center of mass, he opened his mouth for another command when the figure whirled at him, faster than he had thought possible.
He pulled the trigger only once and, as the figure made it about halfway into the turn, saw a spray of fluid erupt from its neck. The figure slumped to the ground and it took Brad a full second to recover from the unexpected result.
Brad advanced on the figure, now curled up into the fetal position, his rifle still trained. He could smell it before anything else, the unmistakable coppery scent of blood. When he had a view of the head, he could see a pool of the fluid gathering beneath it.
He unclipped the rifle from its harness so he could examine it closer. A quick look at the magazine showed a red stripe, meaning it should be loaded with the plastic stunning munitions. Had he been too close? And hadn't he been aiming at the chest!?
He dropped the rifle on the ground, opening one of the two pouches he kept dedicated to treatment of traumatic injuries. He pulled out a hemostatic dressing and got to his knees, rolling the figure onto its back and focusing on getting its hands away from its neck.
"Let me help you," Brad said, struggling to get the gauze in place. He needed to get something on the wound and get a flare up. "Listen-" Brad started, frustrated by the panicked hands pulling at his. He stopped when he looked into its deep blue eyes. Her deep blue eyes.
"NO!" Brad cried out. Fleur was laying there, her eyes bulging and her mouth gaping open and shut as she tried to get air. "Fleur, hang on!" Brad yelled. Her eyes locked onto his and she started grabbing at his arms, almost climbing up them. Trying to get anywhere but where she was.
The night optics, though better than their predecessors, were playing hell with his depth perception. With her gripping at him and moving so much, he was having too much trouble getting the dressing in place. He took a second to reach a bloodied hand up and snap the device up so that he could see the full picture. He fought through his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, through the panic welling up in him, through the moisture that clouded his vision, trying to get the damned dressing in place.
"Aah!" Fleur cried out, feeling the burning up her leg as one of that gamekeepers pets just barely caught her with a jet of flame. She ran, listening to the skittering legs behind her as she tried to escape.
Risking a turn, she saw that she had just enough distance. She turned, raising her wand. "Impedimenta!" she cried out. A turquoise jet of light streaked from he wand and struck the demented creature in it's open mouth. It crumpled to a heap and stayed there.
Breathing heavily, Fleur pointed the wand to her smoldering pant leg and wordlessly ran water down it, soothing the burned tissue. That was the third Skrewt she'd run into. "Enough already," she muttered to herself.
"Aestu remedium," she murmured, trying her hardest to match the complex pattern she'd seen when Gabby had been treated after burning herself with a candle her first year at Beauxbatons. The burning in her skin was reduced to an unpleasant tingling, which she decided was a win. It could be fixed the rest of the way later.
"Stop!" a familiar voice commanded from somewhere nearby. Fleur turned to look toward where the sound had come from, unable to help the partial grin she got at hearing him so close, but saw only hedges. Crack, the sound of a gunshot.
Her heart hammered in her chest, wondering what he'd been attacked by. Usually, when he was at the firing range, he would shoot the same target multiple times. This was only one shot, and she couldn't help imagining some skrewt catching him off guard. She started further down the path, taking a left toward where she'd heard the sound.
"NO!" His voice was closer this time. Her heart sank. He sounded devastated. She needed to get there now to help him. "Fleur, hang on!"
She stopped, partly just doing as he asked and partly out of confusion. She was in a straight row of hedges and couldn't see him yet, how could he know where she was.
"Brad?" she called out. No answer. She started on, aware that her leg was starting to burn again. Evidently, her fix had only been temporary too.
Relief flooded her when she turned to the left and saw a figure kneeling in a small clearing, clad in the bulky body armor and night vision that she associated with him. Just as quickly, that relief turned to dread. His shoulders were shaking as though he was crying and he was desperately working on something.
"Brad," she called out softly, approaching him slowly, a little out of caution, and a little because her leg was really starting to hurt.
"Don't you give up," Brad said thickly. She craned her neck to the side, getting a better angle on what he was doing. His hands were slick with blood and she saw...her.
It was herself, lying on the ground and bleeding from the throat. Her mind raced for several seconds before she realized what she was looking at. She closed her eyes. She couldn't picture any humorous version of that image, and so she settled for the image of it shrinking to the size of an ant, opened her eyes, and took aim.
"Riddikulus!" The creature disappeared from his hands and Brad just sat there for a moment, staring at the spot where she'd been, and she stood there, frozen in the implication that was only just starting to hit her.
Boggarts projected as your worst fears. That meant his worst fear was her being hurt.
Brad couldn't make sense of it. One second he was trying as hard as he could to get the bleeding in her throat to stop, the next she was gone. He stared at his clean gloves, which only moments before had been saturated in blood. There was nothing on them.
"Boggarts," a soft voice that he never thought he'd hear again said from somewhere behind him. He didn't have any adrenaline to rush at the unexpected sound, just relief. "They show you your worst fear," she said. "It wasn't real."
Brad turned to face her. It was definitely Fleur, standing there with her hand on his shoulder. She was wearing the same light blue jumpsuit she had been, only her left leg looked pretty charred. She was alive, though.
He stood and turned in one motion, pulling her into a hug which she returned every bit as forcefully. His face was buried in her hair, and he could smell that familiar blended scent of hers, though it had a hint of smoke to it as well.
"I thought I'd killed you," Brad murmured, not loosening even an inch. She responded by squeezing him tighter.
"You didn't" she said. He broke from the hug, still holding her at the shoulders, as though she might disappear if he let go. "I'm okay."
"Yeah," he sighed, letting his head dip down in relief. When he saw her leg again, he half pushed and half assisted her to a seated position on the ground. "What happened here," he said, testing the pant leg for adherence to her skin.
"One of the Skrewts got lucky," she said, wincing as he tugged a little harder than he meant to on some of the fabric.
"We should get you some help," he said, looking her in the eye. She wanted to say no, that she could push on, but the pain was starting to get distractingly bad and, against her will, tears were starting to form in her eyes. Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded her head.
He pulled out a flare gun, aimed to the sky, and with a kshhhhh, the red flare pulsed up into the sky. Brad was just about to sit down next to her when he heard another familiar voice from nearby.
"Harry!?" It was Cedric Diggory. He couldn't have been more than a hedge or two away. Both he and Fleur looked that direction. "What are you doing!?"
"He shouldn't be in here," Fleur commented, worry evident on her face. It clicked together for Brad then too. Harry should be up in the stands. "Go, help!" Fleur said insistently. Brad hesitated, wanting not only to make sure she got the help she needed, but to convince himself that she was okay as well. "Go!"
He nodded at her and snapped his night optics back down over his eyes. He crossed back to where he'd held the fake Fleur moments ago and picked up his rifle. With one last look at Fleur, who waved him on hurriedly, he started down the path closest to where he'd heard Cedric.
It was all one path that twisted wildly, and he could see flashes of red and scarlet light ahead of him. Some kind of heavy battle had started up there. What the hell was Harry doing in here. The whole damned point of Brad being here in the first place was to keep Harry out.
He stopped in another clearing just in time to see Cedric Diggory fall backwards, his wand flying from his hand. Harry was standing just a dozen or so feet to the right of Brad. In the center of the clearing, on a table, the silver Triwizard Cup sat. Harry looked at Brad with dead eyes, then to the cup.
"Don't-" Brad started, but Harry broke into a run toward the cup. Brad started chasing after him and half raised his rifle before the image of Fleur bleeding out flashed into his mind, and he let the weapon drop back down. He had plenty of time to tackle Harry and subdue him.
He reached arms length a split second before Harry reached the cup. Brad grabbed Harry as best he could, one arm snaking around the boy's shoulder and the other around his waist. Brad started to yank back when he felt the sickeningly familiar sensation of a hook gripping him from behind the navel. The world began to spin, faster and faster and he felt his gloved fingers slip away from Harry slightly.
Centrifugal force fought him and within a few seconds, Brad's feet were at the same level as his shoulders. The ground, which had quickly receded away from them, was already coming back at them, and quickly. Harry clawed at his fingers as they spun and, after a few moments trying, Brad felt Harry slip away.
He spun hard and saw the flash of gray coming, much too fast for him to react. There was a sickening crack and he felt the impact against the side of his head. Everything went black.