Note: It's amazing that it took fourteen chapters before someone asked me where Ron was. My answer is as follows: he's there. He's at the school, but not part of the story, and therefore I can't be bothered writing him. Imagine him eating large helpings at every meal and being as normal as possible. You know, the way he would have been if he didn't know Harry.
...anyway.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN, TOURNAMENTS AFLAME, V
There was something intensely liberating about the knowledge that in a few month's time this whole nightmare would be behind him. The Gryffindor common room was quiet, almost everyone was out on the grounds enjoying the rarity of a clear, sunny spring day. He hadn't joined them for the simple reason of not wanting to.
He was also a bit tired. The tension of the second task had taken its toll on him. Caught in the rush of adrenaline he'd been nicked and bruised a few times without noticing. The worst of these was a cut on his scalp that still itched. If he were honest with himself, because he'd dealt with worse and the ache was already faded, he was staying in because he was waiting for-
Tap, tap, tap.
-that. He looked up to see Hedwig perched on the window. After a moment she rapped on the window again with her beak. He let her in and took the envelope that had been carefully tied to her leg, noting with a sense of disappointment there was only one. She flapped up to his shoulder to butt her her head against his temple.
He smiled. "Thanks, Hedwig. Go get some sleep."
With a hoot of offense- as if the very idea of her needing sleep were ludicrous- she took wing out the still open window and off into the air. Harry closed it behind her and went back to his chair, opening the letter as he did. Inside, folded neatly into thirds, was a sheet of lined paper. It unfolded to reveal Petunia's crisp, neat handwriting.
Dear Harry,
Your father apologizes for not being able to send a letter, but he's on a business trip this week to Nova Scotia and evidently forgot he was going. He sends his love and promised to bring back a frozen piece of his mustache(he won't. Probably.). What else to report? I'm doing fine. I miss you terribly, of course, but I'm fine.
Dudley decided to try out for the school's rugby team. By the time you get this, he'll have learned whether or not he made the team. Wish him luck! I tried to get him to go out for football or cricket, which he still hasn't forgiven me for.
Oh, I've just remembered. I got a letter from Professor Dumbledore last night and he told me that the families of the champions are allowed to visit before the final task. Even people...well, people like us. Isn't that great? We'll be there to cheer you on!
On that note I just want to say how very proud of you I am for doing this. I know you and your father talked about winning, but I'll be happy when it's over and you aren't in danger anymore. One more thing to go. You're almost done, sweetie. And if you get stressed about it, go find that girlfriend of yours. Give her a kiss. And tell her I said hello, and thank you for the letter.
See you soon!
Mum.
Harry folded the letter and stuck it in his back pocket. Luna had talked to his mum? How did she even know where to find her? He felt a distinct sense of impending doom as he recalled every single embarrassing thing Petunia could tell her about him. The time when he was three and vanished all his clothes while playing in the park came to mind.
He stood abruptly. He needed to find Luna and do damage control. He left the common room a man on a mission, firmly aware that in the back of his mind that wasn't the only reason he went looking for her.
He found her on the fifth floor having an animated argument with the portrait of an astronomer. They were discussing constellations, or something, he didn't pay attention to that. Instead he spun her around, pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard. Luna squeaked in surprise before smiling against his lips and snaking her arms around his neck. He ignored the portrait's indignant huff and let his hands burrow into her robes and slide across the smooth cotton of her shirt.
After a long moment they broke apart. He grinned down at her and her own smile was lazy and guileless. She looked at him through half-lidded eyes and said, "What was that for?"
Harry huffed a breathless laugh and bumped his forehead into hers. "I can't kiss my girlfriend for no reason?"
"Not like that, you can't." the astronomer cut in. He scowled at it.
"Oh, bog off, you."
"Harry!" Luna flicked his ear. "Be nice." she wiggled in his grasp until she faced the portrait. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "he gets grumpy if he hasn't seen me in a while."
The astronomer nodded. "I see. Young love, is it? Well, far be it from me to interfere with that." the painted man stood, collected his belongings, and left the frame, muttering about visiting "that idiotic astrologer on the second floor, he's always good for an argument."
Harry frowned at the now empty portrait before muttering, "Mood killer."
Luna kissed him again, far more intense than any he'd received from her before. He came up with even wilder hair, glassy eyes, and red, puffy lips. "You were saying?" she panted, not looking much better.
He blinked a few times and shook his head. "I can't remember."
Her smile was slow and happy. Suddenly he found himself up against the wall and her hands were sneaking beneath his shirt to dance up his stomach. "Good," she purred. "I can think of better things to do than complain."
Harry drew her back to him, lowering his lips to hers. "Show me." he whispered against them.
She did.
By the time he wandered back to the common room everyone else had dragged themselves in from what had turned into the worst rainstorm in the history of the earth. Well, that was the image he was getting, at least. Hermione's boundlessly curly hair had tamed remarkably over the past three years, but still held some of its original wildness. The sight of it completely plastered to her head was enough to convince him that maybe Neville's claims of nearly drowning weren't too badly exaggerated.
"I'm serious!" the boy in question squeezed water from his sock before tossing it onto the stone floor in front of the fire. "If it weren't for Hermione, I'd have drowned!"
Harry's brows rose. "Really?" he turned to the girl. "What'd you do?"
"N-nothing much," she said, giving a very false laugh before turning away. He saw the backs of her ears turn very red. "just a drying charm."
He was going to say something along the lines of, 'oh, is that what they're calling it nowadays' when Neville frowned at his hair and said, "Mate, why does it look like your hair got attacked by angry squirrels?"
"No reason!" Harry sad quickly. A little too quickly, as it turned out. Hermione turned back to them, all traces of a blush gone, and scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. Then they widened.
"You didn't." she hissed.
"I didn't!"
"Did what?" Neville asked, looking between them, thoroughly confused.
"You're not ready!" Hermione continued.
"We're not-? Wait, what do you think we did?" Harry asked, now as bewildered as Neville.
"You know..." She trailed off and he shook his head. She mouthed the word 'sex'.
Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head slowly from side to side. She was wrong. But he couldn't let her know that she wasn't far from wrong. "Really? I'm fourteen. She's thirteen. That's like, the definition of a bad idea!"
He was glad she dropped it there, too embarrassed to continue. He didn't fancy the interrogation he'd have to sit through before she just gave up and made her own decision, because there was no way in hell he was saying anything about what went on between him and Luna. What they did was theirs and theirs alone.
"Sorry," Hermione apologized. He smiled at her.
"It's okay. I don't know why you thought that, but it's okay."
At this point Neville finally found his voice.
"What are you two going on about?!" He demanded. Harry chuckled and pointed at the soggy brunette.
"You tell him." he said.
Hermione's reply was simple, concise, and clear.
"No."
Four weeks before the final task was to occur Harry and the other champions were summoned to what was the Quidditch Pitch and was now the estuary for the lake. It turned out that the giant squid was both female and pregnant, so as a result there was a small, baby giant squid in the estuary.
Well, 'small' being a relative term.
Harry watched it frolic- as much as a squid can frolic- in the shallow waters while he waited for the other champions to rock up. He stood on the rocky shore, little waves lapping against his ankles. Behind him, Ludo and Dumbledore were conversing in low tones in an attempt to avoid to eavesdropping. Their conversation was a low murmur, punctuated now and again by the loud whack of the baby squid's ten foot tentacles slapping the water's surface.
"Mr. Potter?"
He turned. At some point, the other three champions had arrived and were all standing around looking curious as to why they were out by the estuary at nine in the evening. Ludo, the man who had called him, waved him over. He stepped out of the shallows, dried his shoes and pants with a thought and brief flare of light in his eyes, and trotted over.
The other champions gave him brief greetings before turning their attention back to Ludo, who was as cheery looking as ever. "Great!" the fat man said, grinning widely. "Now that we're all here, we can begin."
He says that a lot, Harry thought, while Ludo continued.
"As you are no doubt by this point aware, these tasks are designed to test you; in the first, we tested your strength, in the second, your wisdom. This task will be the greatest test of all; your will. Everything you have faced so far has been in preparation for this one last event. As we speak the finest Transfigurers, Conjurers, and Creature Handlers are cooperating to create a task that will prove, once and for all, who among you is most deserving of the title; Triwizard Champion!"
Here Ludo stopped and peered at the four of them, as if reassuring himself they were paying attention. He needn't have bothered, Harry was pretty sure he had their attention from the beginning. "Any questions?" Ludo asked.
Miss Delacour raised her hand and spoke in that magnificently throaty voice of hers, "What is the nature of the task?"
"Ah." Ludo grinned. "Ah ah ah, Miss Delacour. That would be telling. Suffice it to say that it will be unforgettable."
Harry ran his tongue along his teeth and thought. Did he have any questions? Well, just one, really. "What are we looking for?"
The fat man blinked. "Looking for?"
"Yeah." suddenly he felt six pairs of eyes on him and found he didn't like the feeling. "Well, in the first we had to find the tablet. In the second, we had to find...someone. What are we looking for in this one?"
Ludo's eyes lit with understanding and, if it were possible, even more glee. "That's the thing, Mr. Potter, there isn't anything! The winner of this task will be the one who reaches the end. Now if there's nothing else I've kept you out past curfew, so..." he waved his hands at them in a shooing motion. "off you go! Sleep well!"
Harry left with the others, shaking his head. Sleep well? Seriously? How on earth could he expect them to sleep well- or at all, really- after dropping a bombshell that big on their laps? Was the man deranged? After a quick trawl through his memories of all of Ludo's appearances at Hogwarts, he concluded that yes, the fat happy man was probably quite mad.
"Don't you know, we're all mad here?" He muttered, then sighed.
So I've got a month to get ready for something that will test my willpower. And probably try to kill me, because that's been the trend so far. It's nice, really, having something to look forward to.
The morning of the third task, Harry was too excited to eat. He skipped breakfast and went to the library, hoping to get some last minute study in, only to stop just inside the entrance. It was full. Absolutely, jammed to the walls, full. The reason for which was vibrating in poorly concealed annoyance at a table near the back. Harry smiled and left Viktor Krum to his misery.
The owlrey, on the other hand, was free of giggling girls. It was full of owls, though. He took up his usual perch- heh- and settled in to watch the people stream in the front gates. The soft rustle of feathers and sleepy hoots did wonders to soothe his jangled nerves. As the minutes passed his shoulders relaxed and his fingers stopped drumming on his knees.
All through the last week people had been arriving in a steady stream. Today that stream became a flood. Not for the first time he scanned the school's surroundings, wondering just where all these people were going to go. If he could figure that out, he could get at least a partial glimpse of what exactly this mystery task was going to be. It was pointless, though. A large tent had been set up next to the estuary, not far from where the meeting with Ludo had taken place. That was where everyone was going.
If he was going to cheat, he would have to work harder than that.
"Harry?"
Hermione had snuck up on him when he wasn't paying attention. She looked worried and doing her best to hide it. The smile she gave him was lukewarm at best. It was curious, the way he felt about that. It was nice knowing she cared, but he felt like a tool for making her worry. "Hey."
"I thought I'd find you up here." she joined him at the window and looked out. He shrugged.
"I like it."
Her smile turned genuine for a moment. "I can see why. It's beautiful."
"Yeah." he half-smiled. "You look worried."
Hermione was quiet for a long minute. Overhead a couple of owls decided to swap perches and the resulting hustle and bustle and ruffled feathers made talking more of a chore than it was worth. Harry watched one of his best friends gather her thoughts and waited for whatever was troubling her to come out.
"I am worried." she still wasn't looking at him. "I've been worried since your name came out, and- and I guess I can't hide it anymore."
"I'm a tough guy," Harry tried to reassure her. "this isn't the worst thing I've dealt with, you know that."
She turned to look at him and he saw all of the things he'd been thinking about late at night in them. "Yes, but this... it feels different, like- like more's at stake." breath left her nose in an annoyed huff. "I don't know, it's just something's wrong and I'm worried about you."
He took her shoulders and tried his best to look like she hadn't just confirmed every worry he had. "I'm going to be fine. There's no way whoever did this knew what I was capable of. I agree with you, don't think I don't, but... there's no way whoever set this up had the whole story, and that's...kind of reassuring."
Hermione shook her head. "That's not reassuring at all." He smiled humorlessly.
"No, not really. But it's what I got."
Suddenly he was in a patented Hermione style hug; the sort which threatened all of his ribs equally. He got a face full of curly hair as he returned the hug with equal strength and felt her whisper into his shoulder.
"Be careful, Harry."
He swallowed the lump in his throat and murmured, "Always."
Noon rolled around and he found himself in the same side chamber that the champions had gone into after they were selected. If he had been chosen normally, that is. Circumstance made it that this was the first time he was seeing the little room, and he looked with open curiosity. A brazier crackled and spat merrily in the center, lighting the room with a warm glow. Tapestries of the school's four houses hung on the walls, and comfortable, squishy furniture dotted the carpeted floors.
That was all he saw before Petunia yelled his name and engulfed him in a hug. She wasn't as bad as Hermione, he could still breathe, but he'd bet on having arm shaped bruises on his ribs afterward. He also noted as he returned her hug that he was taller than his mum for the first time in his life. Vernon and Dudley were still taller, though as they approached he could see it wasn't by much.
"Good grief, you've gotten big!" Petunia exclaimed, drawing back and smiling brightly at him. "What have you been eating?"
"If he's anything like Dudley," Vernon said, joining them. "it's more a question of what hasn't he been eating."
"Thanks, dad." Dudley glowered, punching Harry's arm in a brotherly show of affection, which he gleefully returned. Vernon grinned at his son.
"Anytime! So, Harry, how's about you show us around this school of yours? I've only ever seen the hospital, so we can skip that."
"Agreed." Petunia said fervently. Dudley looked at him curiously.
"Harry," he said, "where's your hair going?"
Harry laughed and rubbed his increasingly bald head, glad despite- or because of- their teasing to see his family again. "Come on," he said, "I'll give you the Hogwarts Grand Tour!"
The Hogwarts Grand Tour was a smashing success, if Harry did say so. His family was duly impressed- and more than a little annoyed- with all of the magical oddities and quirks the castle had acquired over a thousand years of being steeped in magic. Petunia tried and failed to open a wall pretending to be a door, Vernon almost dueled a belligerent suit of armor to the death, and Dudley got caught on a particularly indecisive moving staircase for the better part of an hour.
Okay, so success might be pushing it. If only a little.
"Harry," Dudley panted after he'd been 'rescued' from the evil stairs. "don't take this the wrong way, or anything, but your school? Mad!"
Harry slung a companionable arm around his brother's shoulders and steered his family towards the Charms classroom. "Dudley," his words held the long-suffering experience of four years at Hogwarts. "you have no idea."
Behind them, their parents shared a look, and nodded. They followed their sons as Harry told an increasingly wide-eyed Dudley about the...tamer adventures he'd gotten up to. With only minor embellishments, of course.
He also made a great effort to keep them away from Ravenclaw tower. As much as he loved his family, and as much as he...liked Luna, there wasn't a snowball's chance he was letting them meet before he was good and ready. Unfortunately, he forgot his luck was crap, so they ran into her- somewhat literally, outside the Charms classroom.
"Oh, me head." Dudley groaned, rubbing his forehead. Harry had gone to Luna and helped her to her feet. She had a nice bruise forming on her forehead from where she'd accidentally been headbutted by his brother and some swelling on her wrist from where she'd landed on it. He slid his fingertips over the darkening skin and watched them fade in their wake.
"Dudley," Harry successfully fought down the urge to snap at his brother for hurting Luna, intentional or not. "do you ever look where you're going, or is it just here you bounce off people?"
Maybe not so successful. Luna touched his arm with her newly healed hand. "Be nice," she scolded. "it wasn't like he did it on purpose. Unless," she narrowed her eyes at Dudley, who gulped a little. "he did do it on purpose. Did you?"
"No." Dudley replied, still touching the spreading bruise. "Sorry. Uh, Harry, do you think you could...?" he looked at the absent bruise on Luna's pale skin and gestured to his forehead.
"Maybe." Harry drawled. Luna poked him. "Oh, fine. Here," he put his palm on the bruise and his eyes flared briefly. When he drew it away, the bruise was gone. "better?"
Dudley probed the area with a cautious finger before grinning widely. "Much! Thanks, Harry. So, Luna, what made you want to date my brother? I mean, he is a world class git."
Luna smiled and burrowed into Harry's side. He wrapped his free hand around her waist. "Maybe," she said, drawing an affronted look from Harry. "but he's my git. And he saved my life."
Petunia and Vernon, who had until then been in the Charms classroom, came out just in time to hear this last piece, said together, "What?"
Harry sighed. "I really, really, don't want to tell this story."
"It's okay," Luna said, eyes full of understanding and something...warmer. "I tell it better anyway."
Harry was almost glad when the champions were collected for the final task to begin. Petunia had been telling a rapt Luna every story about him that he himself would have gladly burned from everyone's memory that she could think of. The glimmer in his girlfriend's eyes promised much teasing for him later.
Assuming, that was, he survived.
The nervous energy that had permeated the air whenever the champions gathered before a task had diminished, and instead an easy sort of confidence filled their tent. Fleur Delacour was chatting with Viktor Krum in French and Cedric was spinning his wand idly on his upraised palm. In comparison to the first task, they were relaxed, calm, and eager. In their minds they knew that each of them had a chance- a good chance- at winning this tournament. They had done all they could, and the only thing left was the task itself.
That didn't stop Harry from indulging in his version of a nervous habit; conjuring streamers of light and weaving them in patterns above his hands. The glow from the amber bands and emitting faintly from his runes lit his corner of the tent bright than the sconce he sat under.
It was into this scene that the round ball of happy energy that was Ludo Something Or Other- what was his last name, anyways?- bounced. "Good evening, champions!" he exclaimed. "I suppose you're all wondering what it is you're doing here today! Well, I can tell you, the mystery is about to be revealed!" he gestured to the tent's entrance in a melodramatic fashion. It swung open and in was wheeled a covered trolley with something vaguely conical under the sheet. Ludo whipped the sheet off and Harry cursed under his breath.
"That's right, gentlemen and lady, your final task- this last obstacle, is known to the goblins as Tor Nokrag- the White Fang. You may know it by it's more common name-"
"Braeriach." Cedric rolled the name off his tongue. "Mount Braeriach."
"Precisely." Ludo's eyes were wide and shining with excitement. "Precisely. At the summit of this mountain the Triwizard Cup has been placed. The winner is the one who retrieves it. Now," he produced a simple iron rod from...somewhere and brandished it. "this is a portkey that will take you to the starting point. From there, you are on your own. Should you feel yourself incapable of continuing, send out a flare from your wand and the observers will pick you up. Are you all ready?"
Harry took a deep breath and nodded. He was the first to place his hand on the rod, but was followed quickly by Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur. His heart pounded and his palm slicked. This was it. He stared at the simple iron in his hand and barely heard Ludo's voice.
"The portkey will activate in three, two- good luck, champions- one, now!"
With a wrench, the four of them disappeared from the tent.
That did not feel great.
Harry groaned and spat out a mouthful of leaves. Sitting up told him that he in no way enjoyed traveling by portkey. His ribs ached, his ankle twinged, and his forearms were spotted with bruises. A quick look around showed none of his fellow champions around him, nor could he hear them moaning and groaning after their less than gentle ride.
So, he was alone. Putting as much weight on his ankle as he dared, he limped over to a nearby fallen log and sat. It was actually quite beautiful here, where he'd been dropped. If not for the Tournament, he might actually enjoy being here. The sky was clear and the sun bright, a rarity in Scotland. The ground gave pleasantly under his feet and a breeze brought a warning of rain. He took a deep breath, eased his various aches and pains in a flash of amber, and oriented himself.
He wasn't at the bottom- that much was clear. He could see it; the stands the people, more like ants from this distance. Nor was he at the top. That he couldn't see, there was probably a good mile and a half for him to climb, and he was damn sure that the organizers- damn them forever- hadn't made this easy. So the only question was:
What did they do?
Harry's question was answered ten minutes later when a spider the size of a small lorry tried to run him over. He yelped and jumped out of the way, doing an awkward somersault into a gorse brush. By the time he'd freed himself, the spider had re-oriented on him a few yards away and he got a good, long look at what wanted to(presumably) eat him.
It stood eight feet, the hump of its abdomen standing at eight and a half feet. A half dozen beetle black, fragmented eyes glinted at him in the afternoon sun. Its six legs dimpled the soft ground and it hissed at him. He took all this in- and its fangs as long as his legs- and had only one thought;
I really don't want to be here.
Then it charged forward. So did he, throwing himself underneath the beast and punching up with an open palm. His eyes flared and a rush of power flipped the spider end over end to crash onto the ground, belly dented and facing the sky. Harry stood, hissing at the lines of pain running down his back, clenched his fists together, and lifted them. Power thrummed around his gathered hands as he brought them down.
The spider's carapace snapped loudly and repeatedly, crumpling in on itself in quick succession. By the time Harry released the power the once massive beast was now only a gory smear on the mountainside. The glow left his eyes and he re-oriented himself. There was still no sign of any of his competitors. He wondered if they were having better luck than he was.
Or, he thought as he started trudging up the mountain once more, maybe- just maybe- they're doing worse.
The notion cheered him somewhat. Which was nice, because it was starting to rain. He mentioned he didn't want to be here, right?
The rain had reached a level some might call torrential. He had reached a pile of rocks that were shaped a bit like a serving of mashed potatoes and he could barely see the highest stone through the rain, even though it stood only a few feet above his head. His hair would have been plastered to his skull if he had enough of it left. As it was, each drop sent chills across his scalp. Then he heard something that sent chills down the rest of him.
"Crucio!"
The curse was shouted in a hoarse, throaty voice that Harry recognized instantly. The scream he didn't recognize, but the feminine throat it tore itself from left him no doubts that Fleur Delacour was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. His throat tightened and he crept forward, thanking God every step for the rain that covered his approach.
"...I- I don't...know..." Fleur rasped. Lestrange laughed, broken sanity clear in every sound. There was a sound like wet paper ripping, and the French girl cried out.
"Now why don't I believe you?" Lestrange said, malevolent glee staining every word. "I don't know. What do you think, Bella? Me? I think I should kill her and wear her hair as a sash. Oh, I like that idea! Me too! Right, shall we kill her slowly? Yes, slowly. Make her feel every second of it."
"No." Fleur rasped. "Don't...don't do this."
"Why shouldn't I?" Lestrange asked. "You're not going to stop me. Look at you, you're a mongrel. A- a wretch. The filthy product of interbreeding with beasts. I'm doing the world a service, really by-"
She would have continued, Harry was sure of it, had he not stepped around into the clearing and slammed his palms together, eyes burning with fury and a coiling thunderhead of power around his body. The demented witch had only a moment before twin hammers of golden force turned her into a fleshy lump of pulverized bone on the wet, mossy ground.
Bellatrix Lestrange took five minutes to die. He watched her, huddled with Fleur under a shield against the rain. She gasped out her last, lungs slowly crushed under her own weight. After that last strangled breath, the mad light left her eyes and she died.
"You..saved me." Fleur's eyes were unfocused, her fingers twitching from nerve damage due to long term exposure to the Cruciatus. He healed what he could, taking the most of her pain and soothing the raging fire left behind by the curse.
"Of course I did."
"But...why?"
Harry blinked water out of his eyes and sealed the wound on her abdomen closed. "Because it's the right thing to do. How do you feel now?"
Fleur swallowed. "I-better, thank you." she snapped her eyes to his, suddenly panicked. "The others! She said there were more, hunting you! We have to find Cedric and Viktor and warn them!" she tried to rise and whimpered at the motion. Harry helped her lie back down.
"No," he told her, "you're going to stay here and curse everyone you see who isn't me or Cedric or Krum. Did she say how many were with her?"
Fleur shook her head, pain and fatigue warring their way across her face. "No. Be careful, Harry."
His reassuring smile was more like a grimace. He changed the shield around them to protect from everything, not just rainwater, and stood. He left the shield and went into the rain to find his fellow champions and hunt down the people who had come there to kill them. He was surprised to feel only a modicum of fear. Three years of fighting and defending himself rose in his subconscious mind.
The past three years had been practice. This was the real thing. Harry shunted power to his legs and jumped, landing in a skid of muddy water and torn up peat thirty feet away. He tuned his sense, using the magic running through him to sharpen his sight and hearing- something he'd never done before. He jumped again, this time straight up, and caught sight of flashing lights and heard shouted spells. When he landed he launched himself forward, heading towards the battle.
This was the real thing, and he was ready.
His arrival was unnoticed until he landed in the midst of four of them and blasted them off the mountainside with a shockwave of force. He rose from his knees, amber lightning arcing through the air around him and he lashed out with his fists, sweeping two more into the ground with bone breaking force and buying Cedric and Viktor some breathing room, which they took advantage of with vicious force.
Harry slid to a halt between them, and together they formed a triangle, each facing outwards against the dozen circling remnants of their attackers.
"Glad you could make it, Potter." Viktor rasped.
"You kidding? I wouldn't miss this for the world." he replied.
"Chaps," Cedric said, eying their opponents warily. "Not that I'm not enjoying your witty banter, but we do have a dozen lunatics in black robes trying to kill us. Can we focus, please?"
And as if that were the signal, the battle was rejoined. Cedric ducked under a curse that Harry rebounded back at the sender, while Viktor spun on his heel and vanished, reappearing behind a quartet of masked figures and dispatching them with cutting curses to the spine before going down to a blasting curse. Harry gestured and brought the wounded Bulgarian to his side. The wound was large and bleeding profusely, but healed easily enough. He held one hand over the hole and used the other to snap the neck of the man responsible for it. Thirty seconds had passed, and six of their attackers were dead.
Two of them noticed this and disapparated. "There are only four left." Viktor groaned, rising to his feet, supported heavily by Cedric. Harry snorted without humor, feeling a cut on his cheek that he hadn't noticed before. He touched his cheek and wasn't really surprised when nothing but rainwater showed on his fingertips.
"Yep." he grunted, and took a deep breath, letting out slowly to calm his racing heart. The four remaining circled, neither attacking nor retreating. Their white masks gleamed in the murky light and made it impossible for him to see if they were at the attack on Hogsmeade last year. They didn't taunt him like that bunch had, so he doubted it. He snorted again, full of bitter humor.
Only he would be in this situation. And, as he was starting to see, only he could get everyone out of it alive.
"Okay," he said, "here's the plan. About five hundred yards back that way," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I left Fleur under a shield. She's hurt. You guys are going to go get her and get down to the bottom. Get help. I don't know if these guys brought friends, or what, so run like your lives depend on it. Mine does."
"Harry..."Cedric's face betrayed his reluctance, his worry, and his fear. "are you-"
"Of course I'm not sure," Harry said tiredly. "but this is your best shot. When I say go, okay?"
"We'll be back as soon as we can," Viktor's voice was tightened by pain, but his eyes were clear. "so stay alive, Potter."
"No promises," Harry said, eying their four opponents, who looked as if they were about to attack again. He beat them to the punch by rupturing the ground beneath their feet. "Go!" he didn't look back but jumped forward, landing in the midst of them as they regained their feet. Funneling power into his fists he punched them into bruised, battered unconsciousness.
That went better than I expected.
Harry peered into the rain, trying to see...much of anything, really. The rain and rising mist from the ground made it impossible to see more than ten yards in any direction. On top of that he had no idea why mist was rising in the first place. Then a crack of thunder almost blew out his eardrums and lightning- brighter and closer than he'd ever seen- sheared into the mountaintop above him.
The debris rained down around him, rock glowing red hot, hissing and spitting as the rain hit it. The mist continued to rise, pooling around his knees, and he reached the summit in a series of leaps that left him panting and breathless.
What used to be the summit was now cracked by the lightning strike. In the crevasse left behind sat the gleaming silver cup. Harry stared at it for a minute, having forgotten why they were all on this mountain in the first place. Then there were a series of pops, so soft that at first he thought he was hearing things. He thought that until a pair of curses smashed into his ribs and sent him flying into the still rather hot crevasse.
Bleary eyed and bleeding from a cut on his head, Harry looked up to see a dozen more figures surrounding him. Their wands were leveled at him, their masks running with rain. All he could hear was the rain and the wind and the harsh panting of his breath. Then he heard something far, far worse; a voice that had once haunted his nightmares.
"Harry Potter," the voice said, "we meet in person at last. I've been so looking forward to this moment."
The masked figures parted to reveal a tall, black robed man with noble features and dark hair. If Harry had passed him on the street, the only that would stand out to him would be the man's height. Then he met his gleaming red eyes, and knew.
Lord Voldemort reborn stood over him and said, in a voice like burnt silk, "Welcome to your death, Harry."
END CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Note: this chapter ends my loose association with canon. After this point we venture entirely into the mire of my own mind. Tremble, mortals, and despair.
I'm kidding.
Mostly.
GV out.