On the morning of the third task, Albus overslept by forty minutes. It could not have occurred at a more inconvenient time, his tight schedule meaning every moment of the day was accounted for. Conscious he had a quarter of an hour to get ready before meeting the champions' parents, the wizard hastened to perform his morning routine, every motion sending needles of pain up his forehead. Neither headache nor fatigue had left him since he had returned from Ecuador. His appetite had not returned either, which suited him fine: pain-relieving potion was all the breakfast he had the leisure to take.
Satisfied with his attire, he rushed out of his quarters. By the time he reached the chamber off the Great Hall, the tour had been concluded. Everyone was in attendance, from a resplendent Aurora in orange robes, to a dazed Ludo, who stood near a beautiful part-Veela witch: Fleur Delacour's mother.
Albus advanced with a smile, his eyes sweeping across the faces both familiar and new.
"Welcome to Hogwarts! I'm Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of this school. It's an honour and a great privilege for me to greet you in person, and I thank you for undertaking this journey. During the entirety of your visit, the Hogwarts staff and I will be available to you for anything you may require; together with our Ministry of Magic, we shall endeavour to make your stay with us most enjoyable. I would like to state that we are filled with admiration for your children—they do their schools honour, and each of them should be called the winner. I trust you've had a chance to visit our school's most picturesque spots under Professor Sinistra's guidance?"
The guests hummed their approval. A stout wizard next to Mrs Delacour spoke first, his voice a merry baritone.
"Merci! Ze tour was very enjoyable. Magnifique, zis castle and ze views. Our Gabrielle loved 'er first visite; she couldn't wait to come back."
Fidgeting between her parents was indeed young Gabrielle, her countenance more at ease than it had been at the second task. Her curious gaze roamed across the room. The French wizard went on, bowing slightly to Aurora.
"And zis young lady eez very talented. Vous parlez très bien français!"
His wife joined in the praise. Whenever she smiled, her aura would expand with allure, and Ludo, stressed as he had been for months, could not resist it. He kept grinning, his eyes unfocused.
"Eet's very beautiful 'ere. Zank you so much for organising eet! Alzough, maybe I should be a little jalouse, chéri?"
She playfully nudged Mr Delacour, and they laughed in perfect harmony. A few steps away, Molly Weasley waved at Albus while her son Bill mouthed his greeting.
"My spotlight was stolen, I'm afraid," Ludo chimed in happily, "but for a good cause."
Their compliments had caused Aurora to blush.
"Thank you all; it makes me really happy to hear it! I understand you must be impatient to see tonight's events, but Hogwarts in the morning hours is nothing if not magical. I'm glad we could catch the early rays of sunshine together. And if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask: I'll be here for you."
Amid the chorus of thanks, few noticed the pointed glare Karkaroff gave the witch. It was as if he were itching to make a scathing remark yet held himself under control. Aurora noticed, though, and so did Amos Diggory, who cleared his throat.
"Well, it's a quaint place to conclude the tour—just a few steps away from the Great Hall. Was it your idea, Dumbledore?"
"Honey," his wife scolded quietly.
"Ah, nonsense, darling: headmaster Dumbledore and I know each other very well. He's a frequent guest at the Ministry, and he was my teacher too."
He puffed out his chest for the foreigners' benefit, oblivious to Molly and Bill's stifled chuckles. Every Hogwarts alumnus in that room had once had Albus for a teacher or as their headmaster.
Nevertheless, he carried on. "You've planned a grand reveal to our children during breakfast, haven't you?"
Albus reached into his pocket for the day's agenda.
"Our Heads of Houses will call your children here straight after breakfast. The reason we are keeping it discreet is because the last exam is taking place this morning; it will be over by noon. In the meantime, please make yourselves comfortable and help yourselves to refreshments. If you will allow me, I'll now explain today's plan.
"As soon as your children join you, you will be free to spend the day with them anywhere in the castle or on the grounds. Lunch will be served from noon to one o'clock. As for the final feast, it has been scheduled for seven, leaving us two hours to celebrate our champions before the task begins. Throughout the day, the school house-elves will naturally be at your disposal."
This seemed to sit well with everybody, and no one expressed it more enthusiastically than Molly.
It was Ludo's turn to address the families. Like a man waking up from a dream, he attempted to blink his trance away.
"Blimey, how silly of me… Right, so, I'm the official representative of the Ministry, and I'll quickly walk you through today, though Dumbledore has already summed it up. You now roughly know where to find everything, and you're welcome to have a walk on the grounds. Our foreign friends can also visit the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship—respectively, I mean. And, yes, the task will begin at sunset, and there are surprises in store, so it will be a great adventure for all of us. The Ministry will be present too—the undersecretary and the minister…"
The carefree quality, imparted by the Veela charm, fled his voice at this realisation.
One couple in the room had still not uttered a word: Mr and Mrs Krum. Both appeared collected and aloof. It was impossible to tell whether this Bulgarian wizard of gypsy ancestry felt hatred towards the lover of the man, who, allegedly, had murdered Viktor's grandfather. As for Mrs Krum, she possessed a proud sort of beauty—her face was striking for its blue eyes framed by coal-black hair—and was as richly dressed as her husband.
They neither spoke nor mingled with the other guests throughout the following moments, spent over a light breakfast. At quarter to ten, however, Albus found himself followed by the Bulgarian witch when he headed back for the Great Hall. He stopped to hear her out.
A question, a reprimand, a critical comment: none of those would have surprised him. Instead, she presented a request.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I am sorry, but can you move ze task? I made Divination on coffee beans zis morning. Somezing bad is going to happen. Please."
Taken aback, he blinked. There was gravity to her voice. He believed her, though he could not have explained why.
"Mrs Krum, thank you for alerting me. I wish I could fulfil your request, but unfortunately, I have no authority to settle this matter. The time of the task was determined by the Ministries involved in the tournament's organisation. What I can promise you is that we will take all the available precautions to ensure the champions' safety."
Her features remained inscrutable; she stared at him.
"My Divination is never vrong, headmaster," she stated. "But I understand. I vill speak to Naum."
Turning on her heel, she returned to the chamber.
Albus had no chance to reflect on her words: almost instantly, he ran into Pomona Sprout. Her expression was, if possible, even more earnest than Mrs Krum's. In guise of a greeting, she gestured for him to stay quiet and pressed a newspaper into his hands. He fathomed her reasons the second he saw the headline.
HARRY POTTER
"DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"
Under a photograph of Harry lay lines and lines of the most vicious text Rita Skeeter had yet published about the boy. Alarming evidence, deep-seated confusion, attacks on students, fondness for violence: she had used the same vocabulary before to destroy Hagrid's reputation. Just as she had targeted the gamekeeper's origins, she had now expanded on Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue.
Breathlessly, the headmaster met Pomona's gaze. He felt as though his heart had been petrified, and he knew she shared his emotion.
"Don't let Minerva see it," she pleaded. "I know we've had our disagreements, but this… it will be a blow."
With a nod, he gave her the Prophet back. "Do you know if Harry has an inkling?"
"A few Slytherin students gave it to him to read. He is… as all right as he can be." The witch hid the paper in a large pocket of her robes. "But Minerva will not take it as calmly. Especially not today."
"I'll keep her occupied." Straightening up, Albus patted Pomona's arm. "Thank you, dear. In case I don't have a chance to speak to you again during the day, I wish you and Cedric the best of luck."
He had meant his promise. The fact that the article had been issued on the morning of the task was not a coincidence—far from it. Its nastiness, its timing: all had been calculated to crush Harry's morale. Yet as callous as Rita often proved to be, she had no personal interest in harming the boy. She had written the article at someone's command. This someone had decided the time was ripe for starting a campaign against the Boy Who Lived.
It was not a mere matter of keeping Minerva busy: most of the staff had to be engaged, lest one of them—likely Severus—end up mentioning the Prophet at lunch. Fortunately, the entire morning was dedicated to a training in the maze. For two hours, the teachers on patrol duty rehearsed the task and memorised the shortcuts while Rolanda Hooch enchanted the spectator stands.
Through it all, a restlessness grew in Albus. His late start, Mrs Krum's prediction, the news article: bad omens were multiplying, and there was nothing he could do to postpone, let alone cancel the event. In addition, neither of his adopted children would be able to come to Hogwarts that evening, as they had done for the first and second tasks. Their absence lent Albus the irrational impression that the school had lost a token of good fortune and protection.
What was even more, he saw his worry reflected in Alastor Moody. With the drill concluded, the Auror approached, his airs preoccupied.
"I took a look at the final guest list when I was helping Rolanda. There are over twenty people from the Ministry coming tonight. It's not normal, Albus. Something's brewing, I can tell."
If one observed him carefully, one would not have believed this wizard was about to retire, get married, and depart for his honeymoon. Not a trace of excitement or happiness could be sensed in him; there seemed to be only strain. And for the first time, as Alastor walked away to assist Rolanda in arranging the judges' lodge, the headmaster wondered about him.
Lunch occurred without an incident; in truth, it brought a smile to Albus's lips. Viktor Krum had taken it upon himself to introduce Miss Granger to his parents, who responded with warm interest, engaging the blushing young girl in a conversation. At the Hufflepuff table, this endeavour did not meet the same success. Amos Diggory's answer to Cho Chang's greeting could be heard as far as the staff table.
"Ah, yes, nice to meet you. Ced, mind on the third task; let's go through your strategy again. If you'll excuse us, Miss Chang—today is an important day for Cedric."
Even Molly Weasley had a reason to complain of Amos's pompous manners during the few minutes she and Albus could spare to talk.
"He wouldn't let that young teacher put in a word, and she had prepared such a good speech. Always thinks he knows better than the experts, and everything is an excuse to show off his son." She shook her head. "Then again, if there is someone I'll never approve of, it's the people who don't love their children."
"I feel the same way," the headmaster confessed.
The day was bright and very warm. Over at the Beauxbatons carriage, Bill had joined a game of pétanque with the Delacours and the French students.
"Thank you for accepting our invitation, Molly," Albus added. "I know this means the world to Harry."
The witch turned to consider him, her tone growing more emotional.
"The poor dear, he thought his aunt and uncle had arrived. I can't even think how many times they must have let him down. What kind of people treat a child this way—their own blood? I would adopt him in a wink—I swear I would. So would Arthur."
"I know." If this was a veiled proposition, he preferred not to address it. Harry already had a father; they only needed a little time to clear Sirius's name. He nodded instead towards the French party. "Bill has quickly got along with the entire group. The Delacour parents strike me as lovely people."
"Yes," Molly agreed absently. "The father, he is a pure-blood; you can tell, from his features, his family used to take it a step further, like the Lestranges. He must be rich, though." Catching a glimpse of Albus's impassive profile, she went on, "But they both are nice. And your youngest teacher, Aurora—what a dear! Now she will turn many heads. In fact…" She drew closer to whisper. "That Durmstrang headmaster—he puts Rita Skeeter to shame. The second you left, he started acting like a boor. Some people can't handle any measure of rejection."
She could not have been more accurate in her assessment of Karkaroff. If Ludo had not chosen that instant to Apparate in front of the castle gates, accompanied by the three Indian wizards, Albus would have spent a while ruminating on the wretched man instead of focusing on their priorities.
After cordial greetings, he led the newcomers and Aurora towards Hagrid's Hut. They had an afternoon to transport the magical creatures into the maze and erect the final enchantments. From experience, Albus knew time would flow quickly while they worked, not leaving them a moment to rest. He threw a concerned glance at the witch, who had remained quiet since lunch, her expression focused, almost pained. His first impulse was to curse Karkaroff; yet he suspected there was more.
"Are you feeling unwell, dear?"
She looked up at him with a smile. "Just a small headache—it will pass soon enough."
A few steps behind them, young Ganghuli was confiding in Ludo, his speech dedicated to a witch he had recently met, while Pankaj Patil and Mr Kuldeep brought up the rear.
"… and she has a lovely smile. Her hair is red, long up to here—"
"Ginger girls are the best, mind you—though I prefer blondes," the commentator said jovially. "Still, well done, lad."
"I hope we'll meet again, but Sir Kuldeep—"
"Stopped you from fooling the poor girl," the older wizard admonished from behind them. "It's too early for you to marry."
Ludo gave Ganghuli a sympathetic pat on the back. "I'll be your wingman next time, lad, no worries. I'm a lousy gambler, but girls love me."
While they spoke, Albus pressed on, unconvinced by Aurora's reassurance.
"Are you certain? I will gladly fetch you a Pain-Relieving Potion."
"I am, headmaster," the witch nodded. "Thank you. It's nothing a few drops of potion can't cure—I'll take some as soon as we get back to the castle. And I promise I'll take good care of the champions tonight."
Hagrid's home came plainly into view, revealing his garden. One look at it, and Albus stopped, his insides frozen. He had expected to see a cage containing a pair of Fwoopers, a leprechaun plunged in magical sleep, two cupboards that hosted the Boggarts, a Scottish wildcat, and the empty spots that still awaited the arrival of the Acromantula and the sphinx. All he did see were the leprechaun and the cupboards. There was an empty cage on the ground, and the leash that had restrained the wildcat lay abandoned.
He turned towards the gamekeeper. Despite his formidable size, Hagrid had never appeared more abashed. Like a child in trouble—a child afraid of being punished—he stood with his head bowed, not daring to meet anyone's eye.
"Hagrid, what happened?"
The answer could be divined, and the gamekeeper confirmed it, launching into a desperate explanation and twisting his hands.
"Professor Dum'ledore, sir… I jus' turned away once ter check on Fang. I was sure the cage was closed, professor."
Next to the headmaster, Aurora clasped her hands to her mouth, unable to withhold a gasp of horror.
Ludo, still absorbed in the tips and tricks he had meant to share with the young Indian wizard, took a few seconds to catch on.
"Wait, where are the pink birds?"
Understanding dawned on him, and he let out a cry. Before Hagrid could do more than shoot Albus a pleading look, the commentator ran towards him at full speed. If faced with an ordinary wizard, he would have shaken the other man until the latter lost his balance. As it was, he could only yank at Hagrid's clothes, incoherent in his frustration, all composure lost.
Albus hurried forward to pry them apart.
"Ludo, stop. You need to calm down."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" came a shriek of a response. "THE BIRDS WERE PAID FOR—SHE'LL WANT THE RECEIPTS—"
Together with Mr Patil, the headmaster pulled Ludo away. Too embarrassed over his failure, Hagrid had not shielded himself; he had stood still, scarlet-faced, as if hoping they would scold him less if he did not defend himself.
"We'll find them; they can't have flown far," Albus said soothingly to the near-hysterical commentator. He turned back towards Hagrid. "Have you seen what happened to the wildcat?"
"I was lookin' for 'em Fwoopers, sir," Hagrid confessed in a small voice. "The cat was hissin' at Fang—I think she didn't like 'im much. When I looked, there was jus' her tail over there…"
He pointed towards the forest, his meaning clear: somehow, the wildcat had freed herself and escaped.
In the midst of this commotion, Aurora had recovered her power of speech.
"Headmaster, we must find them! The Fwoopers will be in danger from people. Hagrid, did you, by any chance, see where they took off?"
At the sound of her voice, the gamekeeper seemed to crumple into himself. He knew how fond she was of those birds, knew she had cared for them for weeks. He could not meet her gaze.
"I'll find 'em, professor." This promise meant he had no inkling as to where they ought to search first.
The witch's words were true: while the wildcat was local and undomesticated, the Fwoopers were another matter. They could be hunted down by predators or end up trapped in a Muggle dwelling. Should their song cause harm to a human… the Ministry was not above putting to death any creature they deemed dangerous.
Albus cast about for reinforcement.
"Can you think of anyone who could assist us?"
"Dad," Aurora admitted, not unlike a child turning to her parents in worry. "Dad used to work as a caretaker of magical creatures. I'll write to him—if there's anyone who can find them quickly, it's dad."
"Can he find them before the task?" Ludo demanded. "Look, don't bother writing; just bring your dad here. Can you do it?"
Pankaj Patil intervened.
"Ludo, you need to calm down. We'll find a way around it. Hagrid, if it comes to the worst, are there any creatures we could resort to as substitutes?"
The groundskeeper approached, eager to help.
"There's the Blast-Ended Skrewts, sir—I've go' two in tha' enclosure over there. I was jus' about ter go to the fores' for the Acromantula."
"Blast-Ended Skrewts?"
The diplomat turned towards Albus with an inquisitive frown, and Albus fought not to close his eyes. He had given the order that the skrewts should be disposed of. Still, two of them remained at school.
"They are a cross between fire crabs and manticores. Newt Scamander made them legal last winter."
Pankaj's face revealed nothing.
"If they are Ministry-approved and if we fail to find the missing Fwoopers and the wildcat on time… right. Miss Sinistra, may I ask you to please contact your father as soon as possible? I believe you are correct: his experience will be of help. If the Fwoopers aren't found before the task, it's all right. Do you agree, Ludo? There are ways to take care of this."
With a nod, Aurora excused herself. A stunned Mr Ganghuli watched her walk back towards the castle. As for Ludo, he uttered a groan, followed by what Albus believed to be a swearword in Gobbledegook.
Two o'clock had already crept upon them, and they had to begin transporting the animals and beings towards the Quidditch Pitch. No sooner did Hagrid depart for the Forbidden Forest than a new arrival claimed their attention. Rolanda Hooch led forth a wizard in the robes of Elpis Sanctuary for Magical Creatures. Floating beside him was a large, comfortable box. After introducing him as Autodikos Vassos, a sphinx handler, she walked away, leaving them to shake hands.
"Ah, you must be working with Mr Crouch," the Greek wizard commented upon reaching Ludo. "Nice to meet you. I was in correspondence with Mr Crouch last year. Is he around?"
Ludo, who had been cursing and kicking the ground a mere minute ago, attempted an airy smile. It was patent he was trying not to think of his haggard appearance.
"Yes, yes, old Barty—my best friend, you know, not just a colleague—how do you know him again?"
Mr Vassos paused, arrested. He lent Albus the notion of a sharp-minded, thorough man.
"Mr Crouch and I were in correspondence last year," he said again, enunciating carefully. "He reached out to our sanctuary to ask for a creature that could appear in the Triwizard Tournament. We agreed on a sphinx. Didn't he share this information with you?"
The commentator gulped. "Right, yes, he did. I mean, Weatherby had it in his notes and all. I've replaced old Barty—Ludo Bagman. Not to worry, we have everything under control here, right, chaps? The sphinx is in the box then? You sure?"
The more he attempted to diffuse the tension, the more suspicious the newcomer became: in his nervous state, Ludo could barely keep his mouth in check. After a confused scowl at all the wizards in attendance, Mr Vassos probed on.
"Mr Crouch has been replaced? Excuse me, but I don't understand. I believe he's in charge of organising the British side of the tournament."
Albus stepped forward, rendering his voice as reassuring as he could.
"That's correct. However, Bartemius Crouch has been on sick leave since November, which is why Mr Bagman was asked to organise the second and the third tasks. I had the pleasure of settling the details directly with Mrs Mallas, the founder of your sanctuary."
A miscommunication: this had to be the reason. Somewhere along the lines of administration, key pieces of news had been lost, Albus suspected. While the directress Mallas had been told of the staff change on the British side, no one had advised Mr Vassos.
To put the Greek wizard at ease, Lompy the house-elf was dispatched to the headmaster's office to fetch the relevant letters. Only upon being presented the full documentation signed by Elpis Sanctuary, Hogwarts, as well as the British Ministry of Magic, did the newcomer's demeanour finally thaw.
"I see. Very well." For the first time, Mr Vassos smiled. He handed back the papers and gestured towards the box. "This is Eunike. She is one of the older sphinxes in our shelter: two hundred sixteen years old. As you know, they can live up to three centuries if the conditions allow it. We've taught her about twenty riddles in English and the basics of English conversation. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."
Ludo's chest fell in a visible sigh of relief.
"I'm very happy you're here. At least someone made it—better than nothing, am I right? Er, feel free to ask these chaps all about security: the whole maze is their doing!"
Conscious these remarks were about to ruin the little progress they had achieved, Pankaj Patil diverted the conversation to introduce Chand Kuldeep, the senior architect. It did not help. The Greek waited patiently for them to finish before turning his perceptive eyes back to Ludo.
"What do you mean, Mr Bagman? Did someone not make it here?"
"Ah, well…" Ludo forced a chuckle. "Not to worry. We've made some changes, you know, to… to spice it up! The pink birds from Africa were cute and all, but a tad boring, so… err, we're replacing them with something exciting. You'll love it, no worries! Exclusive stuff—the audience will go wild. Nothing you've seen before, mate—right, Headmaster Dumbledore?"
This time, Mr Vassos interpreted the bold promise as a jest. He smiled again.
"We have many creatures in our sanctuary, Mr Bagman, so there's not a lot I haven't seen before. Which animal did you choose to replace the birds, if I may?"
His question was left unanswered, for Hagrid had returned from the forest. Nestled in his arms, its legs draped around him, was a young Acromantula. It had fallen asleep under the influence of a draught.
With a squeal, young Ganghuli backed away, earning himself a stern look from Mr Kuldeep. The others observed as the gamekeeper gently lowered the spider into the grass.
"I'll go bring 'em skrewts now, professor Dum'ledore, sir."
"Skrewts?" the sphinx handler echoed.
This, too, required no verbal response. It was with a sense of powerlessness that Albus heard the fiery blasts. The effort of dragging the two monstrous creatures into the garden and tying them up cost Hagrid a patch of plants and vegetables, all reduced to ashes.
Ganghuli did not cry out again: his horror had rendered him motionless. His countrymen stared at the skrewts with the sort of impassivity that came with age and experience. As for Mr Vassos, his expression had turned stony.
"So…" Clearing his throat, Ludo slipped back into his role. "They are Ministry-approved and… ah, unique. We've invited Mr Newt Scamander—very famous, I bet you've heard of him—he'll tell you… all about them. And look, they're completely harmless, just not exactly pretty. But I mean, it's not like it would have been fun if we'd sent the champions against a couple of Flobberworms, am I right?"
Mr Vassos took his gaze from Hagrid, who was beating out a flame on his overcoat, to the commentator.
"What is these creatures' international identification number?" he enquired softly.
It was necessary that Lompy enter the headmaster's office one more time to find the official document issued by Newt: the one granting Hagrid the right to keep the skrewts. The Greek perused it and was not convinced.
"I've never heard of them," he declared. "With all due respect, this doesn't look legitimate. When we agreed to help you out on the tournament, this isn't what we expected."
The truth was, he was right on the illegal nature of the paper. As a former employee at the Ministry's Beast Division, Newt had created this certificate for Hagrid as an exception—the gesture of a well-intentioned friend, as it were—should Hagrid ever need protection. Only, it could not hold up to scrutiny. No matter how renowned, Newt did not possess the authority to legalise a magical species on his own: such matters were decided by a committee.
What was more, Mr Vassos's reproach implied he intended to leave and take the sphinx home. Ludo reacted swiftly.
"Wait, wait, wait, they are just… a new breed," he exclaimed, his gestures flamboyant. "In fact, we've been planning to reveal them to the public; there's an article coming out. You know, old Barty, he's not just my drinking buddy: he chose me because I know how this whole show business works, all right, mate? Not to brag or anything, but you know how it is with the funding of sanctuaries nowadays, right? That fancy sphinx needs good care, doesn't she? And how else can we get good funding if not through collaborations with magizoology magazines? This entire tournament: what better publicity, eh? Even if these guys are a bit fiery—no pun intended—that's what we have these chaps for"—Ludo motioned towards the Indian delegation—"and the security of the maze is such that not even a fly will bother Eunike, let alone the skrewts. It's all good, come on!"
Pankaj hurried to his rescue.
"Would you like to receive a brief introduction to the maze and its features, Mr Vassos? My colleagues, Mr Kuldeep and Mr Ganghuli, have been selected from hundreds of candidates in our country to construct this scenic, secure labyrinth. We can guarantee complete safety for each of the creatures. The sections they will inhabit during the task will be separated by magical barriers, so they will not come into contact with each other."
To rebuke the offer, no doubt, Mr Vassos drew a breath, only to fall silent. The box had moved: a head peered out from under the lid. It belonged to a woman with almond-shaped eyes and glossy hair the colour of peat. In one nimble motion, the sphinx jumped out and surveyed them all in turn. Her face held the serenity one rarely encountered in humans. Most of all, she seemed interested in Hagrid. After pacing around him, she turned and brushed the Greek wizard's legs with her tail—a gesture he understood at once. She wished to stay.
With a resigned sigh and much reluctance, Mr Vassos straightened up.
"All right. Can you tell me who will be in charge of Eunike's section?"
Given the skrewts' inclusion into the task, Albus had already made the quiet decision of sending Aurora into the sphinx's division and assigning the blast-ended monsters to Minerva and Alastor, two accomplished fighters. The handler's threat put a prompt end to this calculation: unless Eunike was entrusted to Moody, the most experienced Auror, they would be leaving at once. The only choice was to agree.
Almost three o'clock: time was pressing. The creatures were levitated into the maze and placed at the pre-agreed spots. Now came the most time-consuming part: erecting the wards, applying numerous enchantments, securing two emergency exits, prepping the screens on which the teachers' memories would be projected, and Charming specific patches of grass. The latter, an innovative feature designed by Mr Kuldeep, would increase the champions' challenge: any human who stepped on one of the patches of yellowed grass would be transported, without a warning, into a different section of the maze.
A detailed plan in hand, Ganghuli worked vigorously on casting the spells. Once those Portkey-like spots were ready, the teachers joined in for one last drill: they had to test the wards, revise the emergency protocol, bring the Triwizard Cup into the centre of the maze, and enchant their robes so as to be able to pass from one section to another. The preparations ended with ten minutes to spare before the feast at the Great Hall.
The evening breeze was fresh, and Albus breathed it in. He yearned for a shower. Instead, he and Ludo and Pankaj Patil made their way towards the Apparition point in front of the castle gates. Seven o'clock, and soft pops broke the silence. Ministry workers materialised, briefcases in hands. There were too many of them, as Alastor had predicted; it was out of the ordinary. Mindful to conceal his unease, the headmaster smiled at Fudge and Umbridge, who had Apparated last.
"Good evening to you all. It's a pleasure to host you at Hogwarts on this historic occasion. I trust you've had a safe journey?"
"Albus, good evening!" Fudge exclaimed, beaming. "Tell me, is everything ready? Did our… ahem, Indian friends manage to set the whole thing up?"
A nervous Ludo came forth before the old wizard could answer.
"Everything is perfect, minister—sir—it will be a great show. Better than the previous tasks, you'll see!"
The look he received in response was an annoyed one. Pankaj spoke too, bowing slightly to the entire procession.
"I truly hope you will enjoy the task, minister. We've been working tirelessly."
"Good, good." Fudge nodded. "I was starting to worry—all things considered… Of course, Mr Patil, your ambition wouldn't have led you to find someone unqualified for the job, humph? Have you met Dolores?"
He gestured towards Umbridge, who did not even glance at Ludo or Pankaj. Her eyes were on Albus.
"It's nice to be back, Headmaster Dumbledore. How kind of you to have come to greet us in person. Are you looking forward to the task?"
"I am," Albus acquiesced. "Most of all, I'm curious to see the result of our champions' studies. I hear they've been preparing thoroughly. Have you been well, Miss Umbridge?"
"The best I can be," she replied pleasantly. "I hope you are at your best too."
The headmaster could not help but notice a peculiar accessory on Fudge's suit: a pink handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket. It was as though Umbridge had marked the minister as her property. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to state that she was the minister and he, her undersecretary.
Albus indicated the castle. "The feast is ready. I will ask the house-elves to install more seats for all of your colleagues."
"No, no, there is no need, Headmaster Dumbledore," the witch said, waving her hand. "We've already dined at the Ministry. Besides, Mr Bagman and I should go over the task—a little tour, if you will, so that we can support Hogwarts where necessary. Don't inconvenience yourselves."
With a smile at her, Fudge began walking towards the castle, inviting Albus to come along. One last look revealed the Ministry workers converging towards Ludo, who was resisting the urge to hide behind Mr Patil. Among those wizards stood a composed, bespectacled man. The headmaster could not recall his name, even though he appeared familiar.
"Oh, I really hope this one will be a success," Fudge admitted, oblivious to the others' dynamics. "The Prophet will be printing one extra tonight. And I hear you've secured Newt Scamander, eh?"
"He has agreed to participate in the commentary." Alarm had rendered Albus's voice absent-minded. "Is Miss Rita Skeeter coming, or has someone else been invited?"
The Minister made a bewildered gesture. "Funnily enough, she's made an excuse, can you believe it? A good thing if you ask me. I, um… well, when Dolores and I were having our morning tea, we saw her new article… about young Potter, if you don't mind me bringing it up. Well, I couldn't help but think of last year and the way he blew up his poor Muggle aunt." He squinted at Albus. "What do you think of it all? You must be concerned."
Albus shrugged, his expression sober. "Harry's Muggle relatives have never treated him kindly; they are an insult to the concept of family. And I've yet to meet a magical child who hasn't let the magic get the better of him or her, especially when mistreated. To be honest, what shocks me is Miss Skeeter's malice. To print such a piece on the day when Harry faces a difficult task—no consideration at all, no pity for the child."
This verdict seemed to surprise Fudge, who cleared his throat.
"Yes, yes, right you are. Good thing she couldn't make it; that's all I'm going to say. At last, everything's going smoothly." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Dolores, bless her, is going to make sure that Bagman chap hasn't missed anything. You know, before she opened my eyes on him, I thought he was decent, but no! Did you know he's been swindling Galleons? Oh, yes, he has been. We'll be arresting him straight after the task. Unbelievable, the way he's fooled poor Barty all along." He gestured widely. "I don't know what to think any more. Just as long as the whole affair ends without an incident… It would also be good if Karkaroff's boy won the Cup so that the Durmstrang board of governors would be appeased. But if not, let's just hope there will be no incident. I was serious before—I know it's a tradition for the Triwizard winner to participate in the Quintmage Tournament, but those Indian chaps… I don't know. I only allowed it this time because of Pankaj Patil—he's an ambitious one, from what I've heard…"
The news of Ludo's imminent arrest sent a shiver down Albus's spine. So, this was the reason so many Ministry employees had shown up: to ambush and subdue the commentator the minute the task was over. To stop him from fleeing. And… to keep a watch on Albus, lest he try to warn Ludo or protect him. If Umbridge could find a pretext of getting rid of both men with one blow, she would not hesitate.
All at once, Fudge's offhand remark no longer felt coincidental. He had uttered it to test the headmaster's reaction and find out on whose side his loyalties lay.
Albus chose to respond in the only manner he considered cautious: he did not address the point. Let them wonder.
"I found Mr Patil to be modest and efficient," he said, his tone conversational. "I'll be very surprised if anything goes wrong. Not to mention, you have brought a lucky charm."
Half-jokingly, he pointed at the pink handkerchief tucked in Fudge's pocket.
The minister blinked at it. "Oh, goodness! I didn't even notice. Must have put it there after our morning tea. Between you and me, old friend, my wife sometimes gets jealous. I have to tell her several times a day I'm only thinking of my ratings…" He chuckled at his own, somewhat tasteless jest. "Well, anyway, are the champions' parents dining at our table? There's plenty of space, I imagine."
"They are eating with their children at the House tables." Albus smiled. "Since Harry has no wizards left in the family, Molly Weasley and her eldest have come to cheer him on."
"Ah, yes, the Weasleys." Fudge hummed. "Arthur Weasley is an oddball, but Dolores tells me his son Percy—the one with glasses, he used to follow Barty around—well, he might deserve a chance. We'll see. Nice of them to visit young Potter; yes, very nice."
The Great Hall had become more animated than ever now that the adults, children, and teenagers mingled all together. At the staff table, most teachers had gained their seats.
Albus addressed the minister.
"Make yourself at home, Cornelius. Would you like to sit next to Professor Karkaroff?"
Fudge's eyes flew over the long table.
"Oh, I'll sit next to the gian—the French headmistress, yes." His face lit up with a sly smile. "I'll just relax and enjoy tonight, shall I?"
With a deep mental sigh that could never reach his lips, the headmaster let him take the requested seat. The second he reached his own throne-like chair, a copy of that morning's Prophet landed in front of him with a thump.
"How?!" Minerva hissed, swooping down into the seat beside his. She had found her way to the newspaper after all. "Albus, how does that wretched woman keep getting in? Have you seen Severus? I tried to talk to him just now, but he ignored me! Once again, his students have been giving interviews—unbelievable!"
Sure enough, the Potions Master was eating without a word, his left arm twitching. He was ignoring Karkaroff's attempts to draw him in conversation the same way he had ignored Minerva.
Albus met the witch's irate gaze. "I don't know, dear. She might have interviewed someone in Hogsmeade without having come here in person."
"Albus, look!" she hissed again, cutting him off.
Sybill was coming to join them, her step wobbly. Sliding into the nearest unoccupied chair, she grasped at the edge of the table for support and pulled the tablecloth with her. A goblet and some cutlery tumbled down, startling those around her.
Once he was certain she was steady and unhurt, Albus turned back towards Minerva.
"Try not to worry too much." Discreetly, he nodded at the Gryffindor table, where Harry was dining with the Weasleys, looking more content than he had done in weeks. "Harry is happy. Only one evening to get through. By tomorrow, it will be over."
But she shook her head. "I just can't believe it. How could that vile woman do this right before the task? It's our luck that Mr Potter hasn't taken it to heart; but Albus, what if there's more? Do you know Miss Patil attacked one of Filius's girls in the library today? What if that's the goal: to provoke all sorts of mayhem before tonight? You know what children are like. How cruel can that woman be? Oh, Albus, I'm worried."
There was no comforting or even distracting her. In a soothing gesture, the headmaster ran a gentle hand up and down Minerva's back. From his left came what sounded like Fudge's idea of a witty interrogation.
"Don't you find it uncanny that Barty Crouch went missing inside the Forbidden Forest, where the trees are tall enough to hide even the tallest among, erm, the magical kind? In fact, about forty percent of all giant attacks take place in the forest; the remaining sixty percent occur in the mountains. Why do you think that is, Madame Maxime?"
Albus could feel bile rising in his throat. He forced himself to focus on Minerva's words. One detail struck him as odd: why would one of Pankaj Patil's daughters pick a fight in the library, knowing her father was near and could discipline her at any moment?
"You say Miss Patil attacked a Ravenclaw student today? Do you know more?"
"Melissa Scrimgeour, a fourth year, was apparently studying when Miss Patil came up from behind and proceeded to show off her Muggle fighting skills. Irma had to take some Calming Draught. Neither girl will tell me or Filius the real reason—not that Filius has ever taken an active part in resolving a student conflict, if I may say so." Minerva's green eyes settled on the Prophet. "If you want to know my opinion, this newspaper here might have been the reason. I myself as good as wrestled it out of Miss Parkinson's grip. So insolent, the bunch of them. And as always, Severus has done even less than Filius to correct the students' behaviour." She shook her head anew. "Oh, Albus, this scuffle is just the beginning. It doesn't matter if Hogwarts wins or loses tonight. The students have never been more divided."
Everything she said was true, though agreeing aloud, rather than consoling her, would doubtless add to her distress. A few seats away, Filius was, indeed, eating peacefully. Pomona was waving at the Hufflepuff table, where the Diggory family waved back. One teacher, however, was even more preoccupied than Minerva.
Alastor Moody had not touched his food. Sweat was glistening on his forehead. His magical eye kept darting in all directions, and he offered single-word answers to a worried Rolanda. Albus frowned, his suspicion growing.
"There is one conclusion we should draw from this: it will be very important to select next year's prefects prudently, and the head boy and girl as well." He leaned in closer to Minerva. "Is it only my impression, or is Alastor distraught?"
She nodded. "He keeps muttering 'too many of them'—does he mean the Ministry people? It might be paranoia. But Albus, what are we going to do about the skrewts? I know it's all about entertainment for Mr Bagman, except those things are illegal—there's just no getting around it."
Her voice had dropped, even if there was no need for it: the minister was too absorbed in his speech on giants, which made Madame Maxime more uncomfortable by the minute.
"I pray that Ludo has the sense to comment on them as little as possible," Albus said, aware it was too confident a wish.
Not far away, Aurora was rubbing at her temples, her eyes closed. She had eaten a few bites at most. If she had partaken of a potion, it had not brought her relief.
With a quiet apology, the headmaster rose and approached the youngest teacher. He could tell she was suffering from nausea.
"Aurora, dear, has your headache gotten worse?"
For the second time that day, she smiled at him through her pain. "Oh, nothing to worry about, headmaster. I had a dream about having a headache, and it must have come true now. I'll still keep Hagrid's skrewts away from the champions. Please don't worry."
Having sensed the general mood at the table—maybe even glimpsed the numerous Ministry workers—she was conveying as much encouragement as she could. She was one of the rare people who noticed everything yet had the tact to not speak of the matters that might upset the others.
He patted her arm. "Your health comes first. Please let me know if I can help. If your potion isn't working, I'll give you mine."
"I promise."
At that instant, strangely, she reminded him of Justice. She wavered, as if to say something else, and decided against it. There were times when one ought to press further. This was not one of them.
With one last, affectionate pat on her shoulder, Albus headed back for his seat, passing Moody on his way. The Auror's feverish aura stopped him in his tracks. Nothing for it: he approached the couple.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't see them well," came a cryptic answer. "It means they've had a rough outline of the maze all along."
Albus exchanged a concerned glance with Rolanda.
"What do you mean?"
"The. Ministry."
"Love, what are you saying?" Rolanda reasoned. "They are Ministry employees, not criminals."
"Who do you think commits the most heinous crimes?" Alastor retorted.
Before anyone could object, a triumphant voice boomed mere feet away.
"GIANTS! Once again, right there on the mountain peak in the Alps, all in plain view—can you believe it, Headmistress Maxime? Oh, I forget—weren't you born near that Italian village?"
Albus's head snapped up. Fudge's demeanour was appalling. He had just gloated about having looked into Olympe's past without the slightest care for her privacy. This could not continue.
"Cornelius, may I introduce you to someone?" Hoisting on a smile, the headmaster motioned for the head boy and girl to approach the staff table. "These young talents have been hoping dearly to meet you."
The two seventeen-year-olds, one from Hufflepuff and the other from Slytherin, were delighted to be called over. Both had already passed the acceptance exams to the Ministry courses that would prepare them for careers in their chosen departments. While they held Fudge's attention, intent on leaving a good impression, Madame Maxime relaxed. It was manifest she had been close to showing just how upset she was.
Hagrid, who, miraculously, had spent the dinner unnoticed by Fudge, was staring at her in awe: one could have assumed he was seeing her in a new light.
There was no time to reflect on his reaction. Instead, Albus contemplated Alastor Moody, wondering whether the impostor happened to be him—and if so, for how long could he have impersonated the Auror? For one day? For far longer? Yet not one person at Hogwarts had reported any warning signs.
The arrival of the Ministry workers had had a triggering effect on the wizard. Given young Barty's past, a response so susceptible would make sense. Except for Alastor, it made sense too. Was the headmaster's hunch quite unfounded? Was he analysing a simple matter to excess?
"Albus, it's time."
Minerva was tugging on his hand. Light-headed, feeling as though his mind might fail out of sheer frustration. Albus spun around. Ludo had come to the table, his smile jittery. The time to start the third task was upon them, and no one was emotionally prepared.
The falling silence left them no choice. Albus faced the students and the parents.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now."
Amid fervent applause, they complied. Everyone in the Great Hall had risen to their feet to watch Ludo lead the four champions out. Like a single body, or rather a swirling liquid, the crowd poured towards the exit.
"Good luck," Albus said, smiling at the six teachers who were about to be stationed in the maze, and at Hagrid, who would be patrolling its perimeter.
Nine o'clock. The sky was a breathtaking gradient of lilac, periwinkle blue, and lavender; a little blush still lingered on the floating clouds. The evening would have been infinitely better if, instead of focusing on a senseless competition, they could have spent it admiring the beauty nature had granted them, the headmaster mused.
As students made their way up the stands, the Ministry employees could be seen taking strategic spots across the school grounds. The Scamander couple arrived on the dot, Tina cheerful, Newt politely curious. After a greeting and courtesies, she steered him towards their Ministry acquaintances; yet much like a bashful child, he excused himself mid-conversation to meet Mr Vassos.
Now was the judges' turn to file into their lodge. It was crucial that Madame Maxime be seated as far away from Fudge as possible. Still, she had to be introduced to the true Minister for Magic.
"Miss Umbridge, it's my pleasure to present to you Headmistress Olympe Maxime and Headmaster Igor Karkaroff," Albus uttered, taking the lead. "Professors, please meet the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Jane Umbridge."
The pink-clad witch flashed them a smile. "A pleasure to meet you both. How do you do, Madame Maxime? Mr Karkaroff, I hope you've enjoyed your stay."
In response, she received a polite phrase from the French witch and a glare from the head of Durmstrang: neither of them was inclined to prolong the formalities. There was an odd look of concentration in Karkaroff's cold eyes, implying he had reached an important decision. As for Olympe, who still was shaken after Fudge's verbal attack, she kept peering into the stands, where her students had gathered.
It was not safe for Albus to convene with Ludo and Pankaj until the four judges had gone upstairs, out of their earshot. They could afford but a few minutes of conversation.
"Are you all right, gentlemen?"
Ludo nodded apprehensively.
"We showed that Asian bloke from Law Enforcement everything, right? We impressed him, right?" The desperate questions were directed at Mr Patil. "I can never tell with him—does he even blink? But you guys are from the same place, right? Do you know him? I've never asked."
Pankaj replied evenly, having taken no offense.
"I've never met Mr Kim outside of work, and we hardly ever cross paths. Once, we were both sent to China to represent Great Britain, but we didn't talk, except to exchange a few common pleasantries. That being said, Ludo, you shouldn't be thinking of Mr Kim right now. You are about to give a great, entertaining speech—that's what you do best."
Mr Kim: this, indeed, was the name of the wizard Albus had noticed standing behind Umbridge like a quiet, efficient shadow. If he remembered correctly, Andrew Kim had been one of the very few Hogwarts graduates who had gone on to pursue both magical studies at the Ministry and Muggle education at a prestigious university. Born to a Scottish witch and a Korean Muggle, he had been Sorted to Ravenclaw. As Umbridge's right hand, he was bound to prove a formidable asset to her side.
"So creepy, the way he never changes his expression!" Ludo complained. "But I think he was impressed, wasn't he? I mean, who wouldn't be?"
"You are going to do great, all right?"
Pankaj clapped the younger wizard on the shoulder. His ability to adapt to different people and read their disposition was, in Albus's opinion, nothing short of admirable. In addition to his superb diplomatic skill, he was a gifted psychologist.
Taking heart at last, Ludo eyed Albus.
"We can do it! It's going to be a great show, old chap—you'll love it!"
To inform him of his impending arrest would be to shatter his resolve in a heartbeat. But to leave him in the dark would be betrayal, and Albus refused to even consider it. He opened his mouth to express the news and was interrupted in the same breath.
Four uninvited guests had entered the grounds: four armed goblins. They carried, respectively, a crash axe, a dagger, a hatchet, and a tomahawk.
"Good evening," the eldest goblin spoke. "We heard a word there was going to be a show. We love a good show, especially when a dear friend of ours is the main star."
"Long time no see, Ludovic," another goblin said, blowing invisible dust off the gleaming edge of his axe.
In the waning light of the dusk, the commentator's face had drained of the little colour it had left. Albus feared Ludo might collapse, unconscious, into Mr Patil's arms.
Without a doubt, these goblins were Ludo's creditors. The reason they had cornered him at the tournament was because they knew he could not run away and sabotage the task. What was more, the headmaster could not ask them to leave, for nothing in the rules forbade the members of the wizarding community from coming to watch the tournament's finale. He could not even demand that they put away their axes. According to the recent magical treaties, non-human beings were allowed to carry weapons, especially when surrounded by wizards, who always had their wands on hand.
Albus rendered his voice professional. "Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I hope you will enjoy tonight's event. If you would kindly take this staircase, you will find the guest section on your right. I'm sure there are a few unclaimed seats left."
"Thank you, head wizard of Hogwarts," the goblins' leader replied. "You don't mind us taking the front row, do you? We want to see everything up close."
Suddenly, one of the newcomers switched to Gobbledegook.
"Ludo, no need to piss yourself yet."
The goblins chuckled, believing perhaps that neither Albus nor Pankaj understood their language. This change, bizarrely, had for effect to sober the commentator up. Despite his shallow breathing, he regained some of his ability to move. But they were not finished.
"Look at him! That little piece of dung is positively hugging that foreign wizard."
"Too bad for that one—he'll be pissed on."
The one who held a dagger addressed poor Ludo in English.
"Ludovic, your friends will think you're unhappy to see us. How impolite."
One could tell the younger wizard spoke Gobbledegook much better than he had admitted. Suppressing his impulse to grab Mr Patil's arm for protection had to cost him all his effort.
"N-n-nice to s-s-see you, g-gentlemen…"
"You have to do better than that, Ludovic," came a threat before the goblin switched to English again. "We hope to hear a good commentary. After all, you're a legend, friend, the best among wizards—didn't you say so the other night? We are here as a good luck token."
"Make it a good one for us."
"Or we'll be taking your tongue tonight as well, you thieving scum. No need to go to Haiti even: there's a nice wizard in this country who might be interested to buy it."
With this, their leader thanked Albus for his hospitality, and off they walked, laughing at the commentator's shivers, and determined to find seats closest to his.
Behind them lingered shocked silence. The three men stood motionless, though Pankaj, at least, did not suspect the direness of the matter, having never studied the goblins' language. This consideration was what helped Albus recover.
"I'm so sorry—this was unexpected." He made a slight bow. "Thank you so much for everything you have done for us today, Mr Patil. I'm afraid we can't postpone the task any longer. Everyone is waiting."
Pankaj inclined his head. With one last encouragement to the ashen-faced Ludo, he went to join Mr Kuldeep. Whether the commentator had even registered his words was uncertain: all he could do was gulp in air, his eyes wild.
Albus advanced to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Under different circumstances, he would have advised that Ludo seek refuge inside the castle as soon as the task ended. But even if the goblins did not dare to enter the school, Mr Kim and his battalion of Ministry workers would not have such qualms. It was either Azkaban or a torturous death for Ludo, and the third task was all that separated him from either fate.
"Don't panic. As soon as you finish your commentary, come straight to me. I'll help you escape."