One month before the third and final Tri-Wizard task, the champions were assembled by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and informed of their challenge. Mr. Bagman said that they would be required to navigate a maze, and at the center of the maze would be the Tri-Wizard Cup. The first person to seize the cup would win the tournament. The champion with the most points would be sent into the maze first, and the other champions would be delayed based upon the disparity in their scores. Champions could use a simple spell, with the incantation "point me," which would cause their wand to hover above their hand and act as a compass, pointing to the Tri-Wizard Cup rather than the North Pole.
"Oh," Ludo Bagman had said as the champions were leaving the room. "I almost forgot. The maze will be filled with traps, enchantments, and dangerous magical beasts of all sorts. Good luck!"
Harry was not amused.
Harry focused on the "magical beasts" portions of Bagmans's warning. Harry was aware that Hagrid had supervised the growth of the maze on the quidditch pitch all year, with assistance from Professor Sprout. Harry also suspected that Hagrid would be the one responsible for stocking the maze with magical creatures to challenge the champions. Unfortunately, beasts that Hagrid would view as a "challenge" were also the sort that Harry would view as "extremely deadly."
Hermione and Tracey determined that the best way to prepare would be to prepare for everything. The two students slowly worked their way through Hermione's copy of the Monstrous Book of Monsters, starting in the index with the letter "A." Tracey wrote down a list of creatures that would probably be in the maze, while Hermione tracked a list of more distant possibilities. It was slow going, but after a week of work, their lists were fairly complete. Acromantula, blast-ended skrewt, blood-sucking bugbear, flesh-eating slugs, and trolls all wound up on Tracey's list, as well as red caps, kappas, boggarts, and other miscellaneous creatures that had been covered in Professor Lupin's Defense classes the previous year. Hermione's list of possible-but-unlikely candidates included chimaeras, erumpets, manticores, occamy and sphinx. Once the lists were complete, the two girls went to work determining the strengths and weaknesses of the various beasts, so that they could create an efficient list of spells for Harry to use against them.
Harry and Draco, meanwhile, were working on physical fitness. Without regular quidditch practices, Harry had become rather sedentary during the school year. Worse, the other champions were older than Harry, and the difference in size and strength between fourteen year-old Harry and seventeen year-old Cedric, Viktor and Fleur was obvious. Those differences had been neutralized during the first two tasks, first by Harry's use of a broom, and second by Harry's gillyweed-grown fins. The third task would be part footrace, and Harry wasn't about to lose his kingdom for want of a nail.
Every morning, Harry and Draco would wake up before classes and dress in the dark. Together, they would jog down to the quidditch pitch and retrieve their brooms. Because the air above the maze was off-limits on Mr. Crouch's orders, the two boys would race from the edge of the Forbidden Forest to the front gates of Hogwarts, and then back again, chasing after one another in sprint after sprint. Harry quickly became exhausted during the first two weeks, but Draco would heckle and jeer until Harry set himself for another sprint. The two boys would repeat their loop until the sun rose about the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. Only then would they lock up their brooms and return to their dormitory, covered in sweat and completely out of breath.
Then, after dinner, Draco would make Harry do it all over again.
Over time, Harry began to recognize that the jog to the get his broom in the morning was leaving him less out of breath, and that the sprints seemed easier and easier. He certainly wasn't in mid-season form, but he'd acquit himself admirably in a footrace all the same.
When Harry wasn't preparing for the tournament, he spent most of his time with Pansy. The passion of a new relationship had waned—slightly—and the pair was able to complete at least some revising when they met in the evenings. Pansy didn't seem to be concerned at the minimal amount of time spent on actual studying; her grades had never been her greatest asset, after all. (And Harry was becoming extremely well-acquainted with Pansy's great assets.)
Despite the pleasantness of the moments he spent with Pansy, Harry was forced to admit that he might have been neglecting his studies too much. When he worried about his grades, his inner monologue spoke to him in Hermione's voice: Harry, exams are only four weeks away! Harry, you have seven inches of parchment due to Flitwick by the end of the week and you haven't even started! Resigning himself to face the music and salvage what little chance of good marks he had left, Harry approached his teachers, intending to ask after his current marks and what extra credit he might be able to complete.
Harry started with History of Magic. When he asked for his marks, however, Professor Binns told Harry that he was doing surprisingly well. "Not the high Os that I've been coming to expect of you, Mr. Potter, but an O nonetheless."
Harry was surprised. "An O? Really? I thought I would need to do extra credit."
Professor Binns shook his ghostly head. "If it's extra work you want, I can certainly provide it! My boy, there is more history in the world than one can learn in a single lifetime!"
"Nonono," Harry said quickly. "Not necessary."
"It has been so long since someone expressed such vibrant interest in the History of Magic. If you dedicate yourself, you might even replace me on the Hogwarts staff…"
As Binns turned away and began to pontificate, Harry crept backwards and out of the room. The ghost was barmy if he thought that Harry wanted to become a history teacher.
As Harry moved from class to class, he discovered that, to his amazement, his marks in History of Magic were not an aberration. Harry's marks were as good as they had been the previous three years, and in some classes he his marks had actually improved since he and Pansy had started dating. Harry might have been able to offer explanations for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes—sitting next to Hermione did offer the advantage of sneaking the occasional glance at her answers—but his grades in Charms, Transfiguration and Herbology had no right to be near the top of his class. After much contemplation, Harry marshaled the courage to simply ask Professor McGonagall what was going on. He knew that she was stern but also fair, and Harry felt that she was the most likely person to give him a direct answer.
McGonagall had looked at Harry strangely. "Mr. Potter, you are regularly attending classes, correct?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"And you are performing adequately in all your classroom work, are you not?"
"I guess so."
"Are you turning in your homework on time?"
"I am," Harry said. The answers weren't necessarily correct, or even complete, but he made sure to turn everything in.
"There you have it," McGonagall said.
"Have what?"
"Mr. Potter, you are doing everything that your professors could reasonably ask, and more. It would be unseemly of us to penalize you for the time you necessarily devote to the tournament."
"I… didn't expect that. Thank you, ma'am." Harry smiled.
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry sternly. "Mr. Potter, there is sometimes a difference between that which is legal, and that which is justice. Rules might be used to protect, but they might also be used to oppress. The difficulty lies in determining which rules are functioning in which manner… and then having the courage to stand up and say, 'This is wrong.'"
Harry nodded. "So, in my case, you're fighting an unjust rule?"
"I never said that," Professor McGonagall said quickly. McGonagall glanced around, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. "And if Barty Crouch happens to ask, this conversation never happened, Mr. Potter. Your grades are your own business."
Harry nodded, and McGonagall stood erect once more.
"Very good," she said. "If you will excuse me, I must instruct my seventh year students on the subject of transfiguring a desk so as to gallop about like a horse."
Harry's last weeks before the final task were spent in near-idyllic bliss. Older students had begun to call Harry by name and engage him in conversation. Viktor Krum invited Harry to throw a quaffle with them one weekend afternoon, and the pair had attracted a crowd of swooning girls on the Hogwarts lawn. Younger students grew starry-eyed if Harry so much as spoke to them. Rita Skeeter arranged for another brief interview, and published another piece about the tournament, titled "Harry Potter: The Boy Who Thrived." Colin Creevey asked Harry to autograph the article for his younger brother Dennis; Harry, who was feeling magnanimous, obliged him. Fred and George, who Harry thought were long overdue to take revenge for Harry's row with Ginny, were pleasant whenever they saw Harry in the hallways. It always made Harry suspicious, but nothing unfortunate ever came to pass. Ron was slightly less cordial than the twins, but it was partly because he was still latched to Lavender Brown. Harry was on his best behavior, and Hermione seemed to notice it, as well. On the whole, it felt as if Harry could do no wrong.
Harry did notice one thing that was odd—Pansy did not seem to be planning her yearly birthday party. The exercise in extravagance had become a fixture on the spring social calendar in Slytherin, but Harry had not heard a word so far this year. When he asked Pansy about it, she smiled and waved her hand in the air, as if the concept of a birthday party were a nuisance.
"Harry, this year is about you," Pansy said. "We'll have plenty of birthdays to spend together, but you'll only have one Tri-Wizard Tournament. I'm not doing anything to take the attention off of you."
Harry felt that it was rather generous of Pansy to avoid stealing the spotlight, and wanted to get her something wonderful for her birthday. After looking through several catalogues and soliciting advice from a reluctant Hermione, Harry settled on a bouquet of roses that had been enchanted to change their color every hour. The flowers were beautiful, but the enchantment caused the flowers to consume water at an incredible rate; they had to be regularly and attentively watered, at least six times per day. Luckily, Harry knew a house elf who was willing to help. Harry ordered the flowers and directed that they be delivered to Pansy by owl at breakfast on her birthday.
When Pansy received the flowers, she nearly tackled Harry in the process of giving him a hug. Harry had never seen Pansy move so quickly.
When they returned to the common room, Pansy placed the flowers atop the fireplace mantle. She stepped back and smiled, then called Daphne over to admire her flowers. Daphne gave a long-suffering sigh, which Pansy ignored.
Later that night, Pansy lured Harry into a broom cupboard so that they could have some privacy. With the door closed tightly behind them, Harry could barely see Pansy's form in the darkness. A few tentative touches led Pansy into his arms, and after that, Harry didn't need much light at all. And during this visit to the broom cupboard, Pansy did not clamp her elbows down on Harry's hands.
Later, in the dark, Pansy whispered to Harry. "This is the happiest I have ever been," she said, voice quiet and honest. Her nose touched Harry's lightly, and her warm breath smelled of peppermint. Harry tipped her chin upward and kissed her lips softly.
It was almost enough to make Harry forget that, somewhere, a dark wizard was attempting to kill him.
*!*!*
The evening of the third task was oppressively hot. The unseasonable heat had started a week before, and had left everybody on Harry's team irritable. Draco and Hermione had reverted to snapping at one another, and neither Harry nor Tracey had the energy to stop them. The four students trudged through the final preparations, making sure that Harry had a broad knowledge of how to fight and defeat various magical creatures, as well as how to recognize and dispel assorted enchantments and traps.
Harry had spent countless hours in the common room, practicing the "point me" spell, allowing his wand to hover above his hand a point him toward the requested target. Tracey would hide Harry's books before classes and before they started their homework, and would require Harry to use the "point me" spell to find them. It was an annoying, but useful, exercise.
Harry had found other uses for the "point me" spell, however. For example, it was exceptionally useful for finding Pansy, when he was done practicing for the tournament and wanted to focus on… fun.
Despite the heat, Harry dressed for the third task in his quidditch robes, just as he had for the first task against the dragon. Since Harry would be facing the unknown, he wanted to ensure that he was mobile, but also protected from cuts, bruises, and light physical attacks. Harry felt as if he cut quite the dashing figure and looked every bit the champion, so long as he didn't sweat through his clothes before the task started.
Harry walked down to the quidditch pitch alone. To the west, storm clouds were gathering, a dark, seething mass of nature's fury that was lit by the occasional burst of lightning. The storm was far enough away that Harry held out hope that it pass harmlessly by, but Harry was not optimistic. Before the night was over, the storm would arrive and everybody would be soaked and miserable.
The rest of the school had assembled at the maze much earlier, fighting to get the best seats for the task. As in the second task, the spectators would be unable to see the champions compete. Once again, Harry marveled at the stupidity of creating a task that, by its very nature, obscured the view of the spectators. In fact, only the first task was designed with any sort of sense, which confirmed Harry's suspicion that it had been designed by Dumbledore. (The first task also served to teach a lesson suspiciously similar to the Hogwarts motto, "Never tickle a sleeping dragon.") Dumbledore had announced that he would once again perform a scrying spell to allow spectators to watch the task.
As Harry approached the Champion's Tent, he saw a familiar figure standing off to one side. Even in the fading light of dusk, he could never fail to recognize Pansy's silhouette. As Harry approached, he saw that Pansy was dressed in her summer robes, which were shorter than her normal school robes and gave Harry a nice glimpse of her legs. Harry took some time to consider that warm weather had some distinct advantages over cold.
Pansy embraced Harry as soon as he was within reach. "There's my favorite wizard," she said as she squeezed him tight. "How do you feel?"
"I'm ready for this to be done," Harry said. He was tired. Exhausted. He'd had enough of being a champion. "I keep telling myself, 'Just one more night.'"
"Just one more night," Pansy agreed. She stepped back and rubbed her hands up and down Harry's arms. "Then it'll all be over, and you'll be a champion."
"I might not win," Harry said.
Pansy laughed. "Please, don't be silly. You're a fourth-year student, competing in a tournament designed to challenge the greatest seventh year students in all of Europe. But you aren't just surviving, Harry. You're thriving. You're tied for first. And that's because you're an amazing wizard." Pansy shivered happily. "It makes me smile, just thinking about it." Pansy leaned forward and gave Harry a peck on the lips.
"With that kind of encouragement, I can't lose," Harry said.
"You're going to win," Pansy said confidently. "And when you do, you and I will be treated like royalty. And not just in Slytherin, either." Pansy's eyes got wide, and she looked past Harry, into the distance. "Every wizard in the school will wish he was you, and every witch in the school will want to be me. We'll do whatever we want, and nobody will say a thing about it, Harry. Things will be…"
"Perfect," Harry said.
Pansy brought her eyes back to Harry's. "Exactly. You and I will be perfect." Pansy leaned forward and gave Harry another kiss, this one much slower than the last. "Good luck, Harry." Harry leaned forward, ready to kiss Pansy once again, when a voice spoke from the tent.
"Harry! I've been looking for you!"
Harry winced, and stepped back from Pansy. So much for one last kiss. "Mr. Bagman," Harry said, turning toward the tent. "It's… good… to see you."
Bagman, who was marching boldly toward Harry, didn't notice the strained tone in Harry's voice. "Come into the tent, my boy. Viktor is already here. We're waiting for Fleur and Cedric." Bagman grabbed Harry's arm, and began to pull him toward the tent.
Harry turned and called to Pansy over his shoulder. "I'll find you after the task!"
Pansy waved. "You'll do great!"
Bagman pulled Harry into the tent, oblivious to the fact that Harry was trying to complete a conversation. When they reached the flap of the tent, Harry wrenched his arm away. Bagman continued into the tent as if nothing had happened, chatting away in that booming voice of his. Harry followed, releasing a deep sigh and praying for patience.
Harry paced around the tent as he waited for the Cedric and Fleur to arrive. He was struck by a sudden bout of nervousness. He had felt so confident while speaking to Pansy, but now he felt… uneasy. His palms were sweating and he couldn't stop drumming his fingers against his leg.
Harry strode toward the flap of the tent that led to the maze. Maybe if he caught another glimpse of Pansy, he could get his confidence back. Just one more look at Pansy, and he was sure that he'd be okay—the obvious confidence in her smile, the sassy way she stuck her hips out when she spoke, the way her hair bounced a little when she walked. Everything about Pansy screamed confidence. If she believed in him, then he could believe in himself.
He knew that the tent was supposed to stay closed off from the spectators, but if he wanted to look outside, certainly he could peek out through the edge of the tent flap. There was no harm in that. Except that Harry couldn't really see the crowd. If he just lifted the tent flap a little, nobody would notice.
Harry pushed the flap forward, and looked out at the crowd. Harry scanned the bleachers, focusing on the Slytherin section, but Pansy was nowhere to be found. She had completely disappeared into the throng of spectators. Now, she was just another student in green and silver. Just another face in the crowd.
"Harry? You have guests."
Harry hopped back from the tent flap, ashamed at being caught. He felt himself begin to go red in the face, and he nervously ran a hand through his hair. "I was just…" Harry completed his turn, voice trailing off in surprise. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?"
"We're happy to see you, Harry," Mr. Malfoy said. He and Mrs. Malfoy were, as always, perfectly composed. They stood with their backs straight and their heads held high, almost regally. Lucius had his cane in his right hand, and Narcissa had her hand wrapped through Lucius's left arm.
"I didn't know you were coming!" Harry said excitedly.
Mr. Malfoy grimaced, a little. "It was a favor I asked of Dumbledore. He seems to have taken a liking to you, so it was a request he granted easily."
"Well, thanks! I'm so excited that you're here!" Harry was very happy to see Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. They had been promising to come and watch Harry and Draco play a quidditch match, but Mr. Malfoy was constantly being called away for work. It was the first time Harry had seen Mr. Malfoy at Hogwarts since the end of Harry's second year, actually.
"We certainly wouldn't have missed this," Lucius said. "Narcissa and I have been following your progress very closely, Harry. We're proud of all that you accomplished in such a short period of time. You've grown into a fine young wizard."
Harry smiled sheepishly. "Thank you. I haven't won yet, though."
Mr. Malfoy nodded. "True. But what you've done thus far has been enough to ensure your success for years to come. You've made a name for yourself, Harry." Mr. Malfoy paused. "Of course, you should keep in mind that your reputation will be that much greater if you win the tournament."
"Of course," Harry said, smiling broadly.
Lucius patted Harry on the shoulder, allowing Narcissa's hand to fall off his arm. "You'll do well. I have the utmost confidence in you." Mr. Malfoy turned away, and walked out of the tent.
Mrs. Malfoy lingered behind, allowing Lucius to exit the tent. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring that he was gone, before crouching down and embracing Harry.
"Be careful," Narcissa said. "I've been worried about you all year."
Harry hugged her back, and chuckled bravely. "After tonight, it will all be over."
"Just… be careful." Narcissa repeated. "Draco puts so much trust in you, and you've come to mean so much to Lucius and me…" Narcissa sniffed.
"I'll be fine, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said. This display of emotion was rare and surprising.
"Good." Mrs. Malfoy stood and straightened her robes. Behind her, Lucius poked his head back into the tent.
"Narcissa, come along. We can't dally—the minister is holding our seats."
Narcissa moved slowly toward the exit of the tent. All evidence of her emotional outburst was gone, and her regal bearing had returned. "Just saying one last word of encouragement to Harry, dear," she said. She took Lucius's arm again, and together the two Malfoys left the tent.
Almost as soon as the tent flap closed, it opened again to allow Professor Dumbledore to step through. Harry was not surprised that Dumbledore had waited to enter until Mr. Malfoy had left; the tense relationship between the two was notorious, particularly since Mr. Malfoy had managed to convince the Hogwarts Board of Governors to briefly remove Dumbledore as headmaster during Harry's second year. Behind Dumbledore was Cedric Diggory, and behind Diggory came Madame Maxime and Fleur.
"I see that we have assembled all our champions," Dumbledore said. "The task will begin shortly. As you know, you will be tasked with navigating a maze and discovering the Tri-Wizard Cup at its center. On your way, you will encounter various obstacles, enchantments, magical beasts… and, perhaps, one another." Dumbledore looked at each of the champions with his piercing blue eyes. "The scrying spell that allowed the judges to observe the second task will not be in effect this evening. The combined effects of magical leakage from multiple enchantments and the magical powers of the two dozen beasts trapped inside the maze have caused the spell to go awry." Dumbledore grimaced. "My last casting resulting in a rather unflattering view of the inside of a muggle water treatment plant.
"Tonight, you will be on your own. Again, please be careful. If you encounter danger from which you cannot escape, send red sparks into the air. Staff members will rescue you, but you will be removed from the maze as a penalty and forced to re-start the task. But, I assure you, a chance at victory is not worth the cost of your life."
Harry nodded, and saw that the other champions were nodding, as well.
"Then we will take our leave," Dumbledore said. He gestured to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, and the other headmasters followed Dumbledore from the tent.
Harry looked at the other champions. Both Cedric and Fleur appeared to be nervous, while Krum was stone-faced and unreadable. The uneasy camaraderie that the four had come to feel over the course of the tournament was gone, and in its place was the tense realization that they would be directly competing with one another in order to win the tournament. There were no more judges, no more clocks. Just a race to see who would reach the cup first.
Harry took a deep breath. He was ready. He had a plan. He would be fine.
The champions stood around for several more minutes, waiting for the task to begin. Nothing seemed to be happening, though. No announcements were made, no activity was heard outside the tent. What Harry did hear was the crowd beginning to grow restless—they were clearly wondering when the task would start.
"Um, Mr. Bagman?" Harry called across the tent.
"Mmm, yes?" Ludo Bagman had been humming to himself and staring at a blank spot on the wall.
"When is the task supposed to start?"
"Whenever I take you outside," Bagman said.
"Oh." Harry waited until it was clear that Bagman wasn't going to say anything else. "Do you think you could take us outside now?"
"Oh, yes!" Bagman walked forward quickly. "Don't know how I forgot!"
Bagman led Harry and the rest of the champions outside.
A/N: Apparently, I can write but I can't count. (My high school calculus teacher could have told you this.) This chapter has been edited to delete all references to the mysterious "fourth task," one of which was included in the VERY FIRST SENTENCE OF THE CHAPTER. The whole chapter properly uses the word "third."