Standing out the front of the maze, Barty kept his so-called good eye fixed on Bagman while he used his magical eye to see through the hedges and track the champions' progress. He'd volunteered to keep an eye out for evacuation sparks to keep himself close to the action, but Bagman had intercepted him as he started to stalk around the perimeter of the hedges.

Somehow, Bagman had roped him into a quick interview for the crowd.

The whole exercise was ridiculous, and Bagman's questions were as empty and pandering as his brain. Barty's only consolation was that Moody would have been just as frustrated by the inanity, so his gruff responses wouldn't seem odd or out of place.

After the second task, the event organisers had realised that while an underwater trial might have been a unique challenge for the competitors, it hadn't offered much in the way of spectacle. There had, quite frankly, been nothing to see.

By that point, the plans for the third task had been far too advanced to change. The hedges had been almost fully grown, and they'd already spent most of their budget on hiring and transporting in rare magical creatures from around the globe. Revamping the task hadn't been possible at such a late stage.

That was what Barty had been hoping for.

Unfortunately, it meant they'd found other ways of entertaining the crowd during the event. They were currently alternating between loud music, intricate magical demonstrations, and interviews with the professors.

Barty knew he wasn't the only one who was hoping for a speedy victory. The sooner Potter reached the Cup, the sooner they would all be put out of their misery.

Well, except for Potter. The moment he touched the Cup would be the start of his misery.

It felt like kicking a puppy. Potter had talent, but he was unmotivated and directionless. But while Barty had never kicked a puppy before, he had done far worse in his time as a Death Eater.

Moral aversion had never gotten in his way before. He didn't intend to let it get in his way now.

After all, there were only two reasons that he hadn't cursed Bagman yet. One was that he might still be useful. The other was that there were witnesses.

'In your experience, what is the most useful spell in a wizard's toolkit?'

'Whatever spell does what you're trying to do,' he said flatly. 'Right now, what I'm trying to do is get back to my job watching the champions.'

'Oh, yes, of course.' Bagman laughed. From the stands, it would no doubt sound genuine, but Barty was close enough to see how it didn't reach his lines. 'Well, ladies and gentlemen, we shall just have to have another practical demonstration. I believe I spy Hogwarts' very own — '

Barty ignored Bagman's dramatic ramblings and started to circle the outside of the hedges, quickly taking stock of how all the champions were going. Thanks to his sizeable head start, Potter was closer to the centre than the others, but not by much.

Delacour in particular was rapidly dispensing with the challenges in her way with studied ease. If she kept up this pace, Potter would have no chance.

Sliding his wand out of his sleeve, he gripped it between his fingers to keep it hidden. He pointed it at his flesh-and-bone leg while he cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm on himself.

Then, free from scrutiny, he slid his wand out and then quickly conjured a fake hedge around the corner ahead of her. Eyes narrowed, he waited until she reached the supposed dead end, sighed, and turned back around to try another path before he moved on. It would take her quite some time to find another way deeper into the maze.

As frustrating as being interviewed was, it had been worth it. Bagman was an insufferable fool, but that was what made him useful. Last year, Barty — using Polyjuice to appear as an intern — had brought up the Cretan Labyrinth in an aside while Bagman was brainstorming tasks for the tournament.

Bagman had taken to the idea with his usual gusto. Moreover, he'd seemed to believe he was the one who'd thought of it, accepting the credit wholeheartedly — and, with it, the risk.

Bagman hadn't considered the fact that it meant that nobody except Barty, blessed with Moody's magical eye, would be able to see what was going on inside the maze. He hadn't realised that that was the reason Barty had nudged him in that direction.

And when the task was over, there would be nothing to lead Dumbledore back to Barty. He would stay until the end of term to cover his tracks, and then he would kill the real Mad-Eye Moody before faking his own death. During the aftermath, he would slip away to reclaim his rightful place by the Dark Lord's side.

By the time anyone realised something was afoot, it would be too late for them to do anything about it. Potter would be dead or dying, the Dark Lord would be resurrected, and Barty would be hailed as his most loyal and useful servant.

Maybe, one day, the revered Dumbledore would put the pieces together and realised how he'd been duped.

Barty wouldn't mind it if he did. It would be more fun that way.

Catching sight of Potter turning down a path that eventually led to a dead end with a trap involving an unearthed baby mandrake, Barty limped forward until he was close enough to intervene. He conjured another fake hedge further down the path, just far enough away that Potter wouldn't see it appear.

Mere seconds instead of minutes later, Potter was turning back around, ready to return to the original junction and try a different path.

As he backtracked, Barty dropped his previous illusions and dispatched of the next few obstacles, vanishing the carcasses afterwards so Potter wouldn't realise something was amiss.

The young lad was surprisingly dense; he wouldn't get suspicious at the lack of resistance, but even he would realise that nobody had come past that way yet.

Satisfied that Potter would be able to manage on his own for the next ten minutes or so, he continued to circle the maze, searching for an opportunity to sabotage Krum or Diggory this time. They weren't moving at Delacour's previously relentless pace, but they were still making steady progress, and Barty knew it would get harder to interfere as they worked their way deeper into the maze.

All it would take was a series of smart, quick decisions for them to change the tide. He had to make sure they were too far behind to catch up before they were out of his reach.

Once he had slowed the older boys, casting a Confundus Charm on Krum and a Scent Charm on Diggory so nearby magical creatures would flock towards him, he revisited Delacour before returning to Potter.

Honestly, Barty was doing more work than all four champions combined. He had to be everywhere at once, balancing helping Potter with sabotaging the others, all while pretending he was just watching for the sparks that would signify that someone needed to be rescued.

He was the real champion there. And at the end of the day, he was the one who would win.

-x-

Cedric breathed heavily as he surveyed the magical creatures strewn across the ground around him. He'd tried to avoid killing any of them, but as the swarm had increased, his spells had become more and more lethal. More than one of the bodies were still and unmoving.

How had they all come out of nowhere like that? Why? It was like they'd known where he was — like they'd been hunting him.

He backed away from the carnage before turning and hurrying down the straight. He'd wasted too much time dealing with them. If he wanted a chance of finishing first, he'd have to pick up his pace.

When Cedric reached the corner, he slowed long enough to ensure there was no immediate danger before making the turn. His first few steps were as rushed as his previous ones.

But then the hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he slowed his pace once more. As much as he wanted to reach the Cup first, winning wasn't his primary goal anymore; it was making it out alive.

Over the course of the tournament, he'd realised just how dangerous the tasks were.

What if he had been a tiny bit slower in the first task and had been incinerated by the dragon? What if his Bubble-Head Charm had failed underwater and he'd drowned? What if the swarm of magical creatures had overcome him?

He'd known the tournament was dangerous. Champions had lost their lives in the past, and even more had been mortally wounded. But seeing it — feeling it — for himself was different. Cedric had thought he'd known danger when he was hurtling through the air at speeds of over two hundred kilometres per hour, but this redefined the word.

Still, he refused to give up. Hufflepuffs weren't known for bravery or wit or cunning, but they were known for not giving in. He wasn't willing to give his life for first place, but he wasn't going to quit, either.

As far as it was within his power, he would keep going until the task was over, one way or another.

How long had they been in the maze? Surely someone had to be nearing the Cup by now. Or were the organisers intending to keep the losers inside until they managed to reach the end too?

After dealing with a Venomous Tentacula, Cedric rounded a corner and stopped abruptly.

The path stretched out long and straight ahead of him. At the far end stood the Triwizard Cup, shining and magnificent.

He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

Between him and it was a writhing tundra of magical plants, each one deadly enough to kill him on their own. Unless he used fire, which would be uncontrollable in a place like this, he was going to have to deal with each one individually, tailoring his approach when he could and resorting to Cutting Charms when he couldn't.

He had never cut through a patch of plants so quickly. But when he was still only a metre in, he heard the swishing of running up ahead.

All Cedric could do was watch as Harry leapt out of a side path and stopped in front of the Cup.

'Good work,' Cedric said, recognising defeat even as he continued to clear the path.

Harry's gaze met his, and he looked shellshocked. 'Thanks.'

Slowly, the younger boy reached out to touch the golden Cup.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he was whisked away.

It figured. Of course the organisers would want the winner to return to the front of the maze as quickly as possible.

Cedric only hoped there were Portkeys for the other champions as well so he didn't have to find — or, more accurately, fight — his way back out again.