Disclaimer: See previous chapter
Chapter 9
In which masks are removed
The stands that lined one side of the maze groaned under the weight of the hundreds of spectators that buzzed with excitement waiting for the third task of the Triwizards Tournament to begin. Many of the students waved school or national flags while others unfurled banners or held aloft placards that extolled one contestant or another. The Beauxbatons contingent sang La Fleur de la Victorie, a surprisingly good song one of Fleur's schoolmates had composed for the occasion. No one from Durmstrang wrote an ode to Viktor but the steady chant of 'Krum' made their presence known to the rest of the audience. The Brits, in a show of unity, did not shout the names of their two champions. Instead, they whirled noisemakers and screamed 'Hogwarts' at the top of their lungs.
In the center of the stands, cordoned off with colorful bunting, was the section for the staff and the visiting luminaries. The heads of the three competing academies seat in the places of honor with the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge and the family members of the contestants. Sprinkled among the guests that Albus Dumbledore had invited were Bartemius Crouch and other Ministry bureaucrats who made the trip up from London. Madame Delacour seated next to Bill Weasley conducted a polite, cunning, and very through interrogation of the handsome, unsuspecting young man. Molly Weasley found herself next to Delores Umbridge. Neither woman was too pleased with the arrangement but both kept their tongues.
Ludo Bagman eyed the setting sun then the great clock sitting atop a tower erected at one end of the stands. He glanced at Mister Fudge who curtly nodded. With a grunt, Ludo pushed himself from his chair and stepped to the announcer's lectern.
"Ladies and gentlemen, guests and students," his magically augmented voice boomed. "On behalf of the British Ministry for Magic, its Department of Magical Games and Sports, its Department of International Cooperation, and the Heads of Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts, I'd like to welcome you to the third and final task of the Triwizards Tournament!"
The cheers shook the trees on the surrounding mountainsides.
"The competitors will enter the maze in order of their current position in the tournament," Bagman continued. "Starting with the two Hogwarts champions, Cedric Diggory and Henry Porter."
A tremendous cheer went up at the mention of Cedric that all but drowned out Henry's name.
Ludo Bagman paused before announcing Viktor and Fleur waiting between each name to allow them their ovations also.
"Without further ado," he said as Fleur's fans quieted down. "Let us begin the task. Mister Diggory, Mister Porter, to your marks, please."
The crowd roared as Cedric sped into the maze at a dead run the moment Ludo Bagman blew the whistle. Henry Porter trotted after him. Cedric scarcely slowed down at the first fork as he shouted "Lumos". He threw a quick glance in both directions before speeding down the right hand corridor.
Henry jogged along, his eyes adjusting to the increasing darkness with ease. When he got to the fork, he shrugged indifferently. After the briefest of hesitations, he chose the opposite fork from Cedric's pick and vanished down it.
A few minutes later, Bagman blew his whistle again. The Durmstrang students bellowed their encouragement as Viktor bounded from the starting line like a deer. He ran down the trail casting a light from his wand without breaking stride. When he got to the fork, he immediately followed Cedric.
Fleur Delacour bounced agitatedly on the balls of her feet waiting for her signal. Ludo Bagman intently watched the large clock. The minute hand swept closer and closer to where Fleur's name glowed in red letters on its face.
"Be on your mark, Miss Delacour, if you please," Bagman said as the time neared. Fleur ground a foot into the grass as she leaned forward.
At the whistle, she flew down the pathway. "Lumos," she shouted as she approached the fork. The tip of her wand instantly glowed like a small star. It shed ample light dispelling the dark shadows of the high hedge. As she reached the first fork, she spun on her toes, deftly turned down the left passageway. She ran all out for ten meters before turning again only to nearly trip over her feet in surprise. Henry was standing in the middle of the corridor.
"Careful," Henry said catching her before she could fall. "You may want to slow down from here on out. You don't want to dash into anything that could be avoided."
A series of emotions rapidly crossed her beautiful face before she settled on a frown. "Why have you stopped?"
"I was waiting for you to enter the maze," he answered.
"Why?" she demanded suspiciously.
"Once you are in the maze, the task is completely underway," replied Henry.
Confusion pushed suspicion from her eyes. "I don't understand," she admitted.
"No need for you to," Henry said walking back from whence they came. "Good luck."
Fleur watched him until he turned the corner. "Les Anglais sont tres etranges," she muttered with a shake of her head.
Henry pocketed his wand before running a hand over his head. Relief flooded through him. He was walking away from the third task unscathed and there was nothing Bagman, Crouch, or anyone else could say to him. Whoever wanted him dead would have to find another way. He shoved a hand under his robes fumbling for the medallion. He cast his thoughts to Maggie the moment his fingers touched it.
"I'm coming out," Henry projected. He could feel Maggie's return chuckles.
"You'll know who bet on you by the cries of anguish," she replied.
"I told everyone that I wasn't going to win," Henry answered.
"They put it down as modesty," she said. "I have to go. Barbara's looking inquisitive."
"Why are we still keeping this a secret?" Henry asked but Maggie did not reply.
"Mister Porter," Professor McGonagall called out as he emerged from the maze. "What's the meaning of this? Why are you out here?"
"Oh, bollocks, I forgot," Henry replied raising a hand to his forehead in mock chagrin. "If you leave the maze, you're disqualified. Oh, the shame."
Professor McGonagall blinked in confusion before laughing heartily feeling the weight of worry lift from her shoulders. "You'll never make an actor."
Henry hung his head, which brought more peals of laughter from his teacher. "Come, Mister Porter, I'll escort you back to the stands."
Professor McGonagall draped an arm across the young man's shoulders as they walked along. "You know that you'll be called many nasty things in the coming days."
"I don't care," he said quietly. "I'm alive. Besides, it'll be a bit hard to call me much when all I have to do is remind people that I faced a dragon, twice."
"No," She agreed glancing fondly over at the boy. "Coward is a charge that will not stick, to be sure. At the risk of inflating your ego allow me to say that I'm impressed, Mister Porter. You did not let pride trump your common sense. You're a very mature young man."
Henry shrugged casually but delight flooded through him. Praise from Professor McGonagall was precious to him. Only his parents and Maggie's good opinion of him meant more to him. "What do I care about a contest that I didn't even want to be in to begin with? I just hope that what ever was designed to kill me in there doesn't get any of the others."
Professor McGonagall grimaced. "That is one aspect of this that does puzzle me. I know everything that is in the maze. All are challenging but there is nothing that terribly insurmountable. I cannot see where the trap is if there is one."
"Someone snuck something in maybe," guessed Henry.
"No," the professor replied with a shake of her head. "We finished our inspection of the maze just a few minutes before the task began. There was nothing there that should not have been and no one had the time to place anything in afterward."
Henry rubbed his chin in confusion. "Maybe Chris was right. Maybe the purpose wasn't to kill me but why else go through all of the trouble of getting into the tournament?"
Before Professor McGonagall replied, a portion of the assemblage spotted them. The cry of 'Porter's out' came from a dozen throats. As if by command, hundreds of confused, surprised faces quickly turned to them. Scores of startle conversations sprung to life, punctuated by several cries of disgust.
Not content to wait, Mr. Crouch hurtled from the main box. Running with a speed that belied his age, he instantly closed on Henry.
"What is the meaning of this, Porter?" he roared.
"I'm done," Henry replied nonchalantly.
"You have to finish the task!" the older man yelled.
"No, I don't," Henry answered calmly. "I only had to attempt it."
"Mr. Porter has fulfilled his obligation, Sir," Professor McGonagall sternly lectured. "You and your rules have no other hold on him. Would you not agree, Headmaster?"
Albus Dumbledore ambled over, followed by most of the luminaries from the main box. His bright blue eyes twinkled merrily over his half-moon spectacles.
"I'd have to say that she's right," he said. "Miss Delacour failed to complete the second task yet was not forced back into the lake. It is the attempt, not the success that the rules require."
Mr. Crouch glared at both the Headmaster and at Henry before he took a loud deep breath then slowly exhaled. "Yes," he quietly admitted. "That is right."
Professor McGonagall started to smile before she saw Mr. Crouch swiftly raise his wand.
"Stupefy!"
Professor McGonagall did not hear the screams that reverberated about the stands as her body collapsed against Henry. Students dove for cover as wands materialized in the hands of every adult but Mr. Crouch had the element of surprise on his side. Before any wand could come to bear on him, he leaped behind Henry who was trying to ease the Professor to the ground. Mr. Crouch grabbed the boy's collar roughly pulling him to his feet.
"Back off, Dumbledore," Crouch snarled jabbing his wand into Henry's throat. "Don't make me kill the boy. Lord Voldemort has need of Potter."
"Voldemort!" Ludo Bagman exclaimed in disbelief. "Have you gone mad, Barty?"
"That is not Bartemius Crouch," Dumbledore ventured trying to inch his way into a clear shot. "Stay calm, Henry. We won't let him hurt you."
"Oh, but I am," he replied chuckling evilly as he dragged the struggling Henry slowly backward.
"Ah, the younger Crouch. Not dead after all, are we?" Professor Dumbledore guessed. "Polyjuice."
"Too right," Bartemius Crouch, Jr said. "If you're interested enough, you can find dear old poppa buried in the backyard."
"You murdered your own father?" a horrified Mister Fudge asked.
"With a smile on my face," Bartemius replied. "Now everyone back away. Harry Potter has a date with destiny."
"Drop your wand, Crouch," Fudge said trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably. "Besides, that lad is not Harry Potter."
Crouch laughed harshly. "One thing Dad and I agreed on, Fudge, was that you are a complete git; living proof that mediocrity is no bar to advancement. This is Potter, you idiot. He was right before your eyes and you didn't know it. You had your lackeys skulking though Hogwarts all year and they couldn't see the truth. My master did and he's going to reap the benefits."
Fudge looked at Dumbledore in askance. "Is that true? Is that Harry Potter?"
Dumbledore kept his eyes on the still moving Crouch. "This is not the time, Minister." He growled.
"It is true," Dolores Umbridge shouted. "His guilt is written all over him. Indisputably evidence of what I've been telling you, sir. Dumbledore can't be trusted."
The headmaster ignored the tirade. "Give yourself up, Crouch. There is nowhere for you to go. There are too many of us and there is no escape from these grounds."
Crouch laughed again. "No escape? Ah, but there is and you allowed it in without a second thought. Accio Portkey!"
Henry caught a glimpse of his captor's extended wand. Seeing his opportunity, he raised his foot then drove it down onto Mr. Crouch's instep. As his captor howled in agony, Henry smashed his elbow backwards into the solar plexus before quickly twisting his body, flipping Crouch over his hip.
The Triwizard Cup whipped past Henry's head as Crouch hit the grass. With a rib-breaking crunch, the trophy crashed into Crouch's chest. His scream of pain and his reflexive grabbing of the cup were simultaneous. The would-be kidnapper vanished leaving only an tortured 'Noooo' echoing in his wake.
There was a moment of stunned stillness. Only a slight breeze rustling the leaves of the maze hedge disturbed the silence. Dumbledore was the first to move, dropping quickly to his knees to check Professor McGonagall's pulse. As if his movement were a signal, everyone began to stir at once. Mister Fudge grabbed Henry's arm as the boy started toward the crumpled figure of his teacher.
"Are you Harry Potter?" he asked in a wild voice.
"Let go of me," Henry said.
"Are you Harry Potter?" The Minister again asked giving the boy an impatient shake.
Henry suppressed the desire to punch the Minister in the throat. "My name is Henry Porter," he replied as calmly as he could. "Now, let me go. I need to see Professor McGonagall."
Delores Umbridge stepped forward. With an evil glint in her eye, she smeared some dirt across Henry's forehead. Her eyes widened as the soil highlighted the barely visible reminder of where the killing curse had struck the boy so many years earlier.
"The scar," she shouted jubilantly. "You can see the scar! It is Potter! Dumbledore has lied to us! He has lied to us all!"
Rita Skeeter ran to Henry's side, her Quick Quotes Quill barely keeping up with her. "Harry, why did you keep your identity a secret? Did Dumbledore force you? Do you know who you are?"
Henry jerked his arm free of the minister's grasp. Fudge did not try to grab him again but he and Rita Skeeter kept bombarding him with questions as people rushed to them like a collapsing wave. Henry frantically searched the gathering crowd for Headmaster or Maggie but the horde surged forward erecting a barrier of bodies.
"Let me though," Henry said. "I need to see if Professor McGonagall is all right."
"Answer me, boy," Fudge shouted stepping in front of Henry as he tried to pass. "What did Dumbledore tell you?"
"How do you feel about this attempt to kidnap you?" Rita Skeeter asked. "What would your parents think about you using an alias?"
"Let me through," Henry repeated searching for an opening that was not there. People surrounded him.
"Answer the questions," Umbridge snapped. "And don't think that being a minor will protect you if we find out that you are part of a conspiracy against the Ministry."
'What would you like to say to the readers of The Daily Prophet?" Rita Skeeter asked. "Give us a quote we can use. It'll be front page tomorrow."
"Here's my quote. I'm outta here," Henry shouted in anger. He shoved his arms upward. On the down stroke, the mighty wings of a phoenix propelled him into the night sky. He disappeared over the mountains before anyone could say a word.