A/N: I apologize I missed last weekend's update. I was out of town for a family wedding and madness ensued. I'm finally home and able to get this chapter out. Enjoy!
...
Right foot. Left foot. Right. Left.
One step forward.
One step back.
"Now go left," said Ginny. "I won't let you fall."
Harry raised a tired brow at her, but holding her hands tightly, he took a tiny, painful step to his left.
"Good. Do it again." Ginny's bright brown eyes gleamed. Harry didn't want to appear weaker than he was, so he took another step to his left. He took two more steps before feeling his muscles protest at the movement; Ginny, anticipating his distress, squeezed his hands and led him back to the infirmary bed.
"How far was that today?" asked Harry, wincing as his backside hit the mattress.
"You got almost halfway across the classroom. Way further than Viktor." Ginny beamed at him, pulled up a chair, and dug into her rucksack. "Ron and Hermione brought your homework. Ron would be here but he's with—"
"Lavender?"
Ginny nodded. "And Hermione says she's behind on her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes homework. She was practically growling at anyone who came near her table at the library. You get me instead."
Harry felt his lips curling up into a smile. Ron might've been his best mate, but he was hopeless with some of their classwork. Hermione, another one of his best friends, was more helpful, but she spent too much time fighting over small details. Ginny, a year behind them in classes, took a more relaxed approach to her studies. Revising homework with Ginny was always calmer than revising with Ron or Hermione.
"You're in luck," declared Ginny, as she leafed through Hermione's notes. "We just learned Doxycide in Potions this week. Snape had fourth years revising Doxycide, so I can actually help you."
"This was one of the only potions I brewed perfectly," Harry replied, seeing Ginny deflate slightly. "But we should go over it together."
Ginny brightened and took out two rolls of parchment, quills, and ink. The third and fourth years were assigned similar essays on the properties of Doxycide; in between comparing notes and scribbling sentences, Ginny told Harry how the other champions were faring, two weeks after the second task. Everyone was taking longer to heal than expected, Harry included.
Like Harry, Viktor was walking with assistance. He had a regular queue of admirers willing to help him, but most of them didn't know what they were doing. Viktor, pleased with himself over the steady supply of fans, was taking longer to heal properly. Other Durmstrang students occasionally came by to see Viktor, but he was more interested in the many Hogwarts witches who fawned over him.
Harry felt lucky that during the week, his usual helpers were Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Sirius. On the weekends, Remus and Tonks came to help, so Harry was progressing faster than any of the other champions in his healing. His homework and classwork was on schedule, too; Harry simply missed having the ability to roam about the castle as he wished.
Cedric had yet to feel anything under his waist. His legs, feet, and toes simply didn't respond to any treatment. Amos, his father, insisted that any day, Cedric would make a full recovery, but Ginny overheard Madam Pomfrey telling Mrs. Diggory that it was unlikely Cedric would walk again. Cedric was lucky to have control of his arms, which were also undergoing healing. Ginny had seen Cedric trying to write his name with both his hands; it appeared he would have to learn to write again. Harry felt a surge of pity for him, knowing that it was unlikely Cedric could play Quidditch again if he couldn't manage to catch the Snitch. Nevertheless, Cedric's parents and girlfriend, Cho, were with him daily. It appeared that the Hufflepuffs had a rotating schedule of helpers, as every two hours, two different Hufflepuff students came to offer Cedric and his family food, help, or anything else they requested. Harry had no idea Hufflepuff House was so well organized, but Tonks wasn't surprised in the least upon seeing their cohesiveness.
Fleur's physical appearance was back to usual. She healed fast from her blistering wounds but was taking longer than anticipated to regain the ability to walk. She could barely stand without help, but she too had plenty of support. Her sister, parents, and almost all the Beauxbatons students took turns in caring for her, not unlike how the Hufflepuffs helped Cedric. Neither Harry nor Ginny understood a word they said, but Hermione understood enough to know that they were terrified of what the next task would bring.
Harry was worried too. The third task had been announced over the past weekend, when all the champions' families were present. The Triwizard Tournament organizers, in agreement with the British Ministry of Magic, the French Ministère des Affaires Magiques, and the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic (whose proper name Harry couldn't remember, even if he tried) decided to make the third task of the tournament entirely non-physical due to the severity of the injuries from the second task. The public outcry from the champions' various injuries had been great enough to alert even the International Confederation of Wizards; fearing international recrimination, the Triwizard Tournament's third task was reinvented to be safer, while still challenging enough.
The third task was scheduled for the end of June, to give the champions enough time to regain most of their motor skills. The Quidditch pitch would be divided into four quadrants, with the Triwizard Cup in the center. Each champion would have to overcome a series of obstacles to get to the cup in the middle; whoever reached the cup first would be the winner.
The exact obstacles would be unknown to the champions, but there were seven in total, each related to a different academic subject: Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and a mystery seventh subject for each champion. Only the seventh subject would differ from one champion to the other, but everything else would be the same. Harry dreaded the obstacles; he expected he'd lose miserably, as he was at least two years behind the others in his training. He was even more worried over what his seventh obstacle would be – if he was given Ancient Runes or Arithmancy, he'd fail spectacularly. His only comfort was knowing it couldn't possibly be more physically demanding than the first or second tasks.
"I forgot to ask you," said Ginny, midway through her essay. "Do you want Hermione to teach you Arithmancy or Ancient Runes for your third task?" Harry tilted his head back and sighed irritably.
"Do you think it'd help?"
Ginny shrugged, biting her lower lip. "What else are you going to do all day?"
Harry's hands went up to his eyes and rubbed them. "I don't know."
The sound of the classroom door swinging open startled them both. Hermione rushed in with her bushy, brown hair flying wildly behind her.
"How could I be so stupid?" Hermione announced, slamming several books down on the foot of Harry's bed. "You could have Ancient Runes or Arithmancy at your next task! I've been revising alone all night and I could've been teaching you!"
Harry shifted uncomfortably as Ginny clapped her hand over her mouth, looking as though she was trying very hard not to laugh. "Err, you really don't have to—"
"We've wasted three days!" Hermione half-yelled, receiving glares from the nearby Beauxbatons students, who were hovering around Fleur's bed. "By now you could've memorized at least a dozen runes!"
Hermione's hair flailed madly around her head as she opened one textbook after another. She shoved a thick tome in Harry's hands, opening it to the first page.
"Start here," she ordered, pointing to a shape that looked like an owl. "That's a demiguise – it represents the number 'zero' in Ancient Runes." She smacked her palm on her forehead and added, "This is going to help you with Care of Magical Creatures, too! Loads of runes are magical creatures!"
"It doesn't really help if I don't know what the creatures are," Harry mumbled, flipping a page half-heartedly.
"What if you asked Hagrid?" suggested Ginny. "I reckon Professor Grubbly-Plank wouldn't let you get near the really dangerous creatures but Hagrid probably would."
"That's a great idea, Ginny," Hermione concurred, while taking out another hefty volume from her bookbag. "I can ask him for you, Harry. He can prepare as many creatures as he can so you're ready."
"Great," Harry said indifferently. He feigned a yawn, but Hermione piled on book after book on his lap.
Ginny cleared her throat and turned to Hermione. "I think Harry's sleepy…maybe you can start tomorrow?"
Harry pretended to yawn again and Hermione pouted, but started gathering some of the books.
"Don't take all of them," Ginny said, holding Hermione's arm and meeting Harry's eyes. "He can study those runes in the morning, can't he?"
Harry forced a tight smile on his face and nodded. "That's a great idea."
"I'll quiz you on the first ten runes tomorrow afternoon. The more you can do, the better," Hermione said seriously. She stood, leaving three enormous books on Harry's bed, and smoothed down her frizzy hair. "I'll talk to Hagrid next time I see him for you." She frowned, looked through her bookbag, and took out one more book.
"This is Spellman's Syllabary. I don't think you'll read the whole thing by tomorrow but try to get through as much as you can."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry muttered, unconvinced that he'd even open the book before he saw her again.
"I'll go too," Ginny said, gathering her things from her seat. She mouthed "I'm sorry" to Harry, but he waved his hand dismissively. He doubted he'd make much progress, if any, on either Ancient Runes or Arithmancy, but with his friends at his side, he might get through the next task.
….
"Now the firs' thing yeh need ter know 'bout a creature," Hagrid began loudly, while gesturing to the gigantic three-headed dog snarling at Harry, "is how ter calm 'im. Take Fluffy here fer instance."
"That thing has a name?" Ron said, taking a leap back when Fluffy pressed a huge paw forward.
"O' course he has a name! The trick with 'im is tha' he likes music." Hagrid pulled out a wooden flute and began to play an off-key rendition of 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat.' As if put into an enchanted sleep, Fluffy relaxed. His giant paws landed on the ground with a thunderous clap. The three heads drooped onto the paws, each one drooling puddles onto the leafy undergrowth.
Harry leaned against a tree. He hadn't a clue how playing music to a three-headed dog would help in his third task, but Hagrid seemed to think it would.
Hagrid started to walk backwards, gesturing for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to follow him. Harry stumbled every few feet, still unsure on his legs, but Madam Pomfrey and Sirius insisted that the more he walked, the easier the healing process would be.
When they were out of the clearing containing Fluffy, Hagrid stopped playing the flute.
"We're goin' ter see the hippogriffs now," Hagrid announced. "Mighty proud creatures they are, hippogriffs. Yeh don' wan' ter be offending 'em. If yeh offend 'em, it might jus' be the las' thing yeh ever do."
Ron and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances. They seemed to have gotten over their iciness at the Yule Ball; with Harry's severe injuries and the desire to help him prepare for the third task, they declared a silent, temporary truce for him.
Neither Lavender, Ron's girlfriend, nor Etienne, Hermione's 'friend,' were ever mentioned when the three of them were together.
Harry managed to get past the hippogriffs with ease. The hippogriff called Buckbeak was intimidating at first, but after a thrilling ride over the Black Lake, Harry felt more confident with hippogriffs than the three-headed dog from earlier.
"Next, I've got a special treat fer yeh," Hagrid said proudly, leading Harry, Ron, and Hermione toward another clearing in the forest. "I bred these meself. I call 'em Blast-Ended Screwts. They're babies now but jus' wait ter they're all grown up."
Hagrid stopped in front of a few giant crates, beaming proudly, and gestured for Harry to take a better look.
The Blast-Ended Skrewts looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.
"H-Hagrid," Hermione said, in a small voice. "How did you breed these?"
"Fire crab an' a manticore. Aren' they magnificent?"
Harry watched several of the baby skrewts blindly attack each other and send sparks out from the crates. He backed away to save his robes from being set on fire and asked, "Will they stay this…little?"
"If they're anythin' like their mummy they'll be six feet long!" Hagrid stuck a finger inside one of the crates, but got stung, and chuckled nervously while blowing on the angry red welt that sprung up.
"Anyway," Hagrid said, clearing his throat. "Yeh should be gettin' back ter the castle before curfew."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged back up the hill slowly. Every so often, Harry had to stop and catch his breath, unused to the physical exercise after so many weeks of healing.
"At least you don't have to use that walking stick anymore," Ron reminded Harry, while he leaned against a nearby tree trunk for support. "Fleur and Viktor still use theirs."
Harry grunted a reply and set back up the hill. He was grateful that he wasn't the only one who needed help walking after the last task. Malfoy had been insufferable upon seeing Harry walk with a cane, mocking him mercilessly, until Viktor and Fleur came to Harry's aid and together, embarrassed Malfoy in front of the Slytherins. After that moment, Harry had a newfound appreciation for Viktor and Fleur.
"I heard Madam Pomfrey and some Healers from St. Mungo's are going to try to get Cedric to walk again by removing and regrowing his bones," Hermione said, once they'd reached the front doors of the castle. "It's not going to work, but Mr. Diggory wants them to try everything to get Cedric to walk."
"Why wouldn't it work?" asked Ron. "Maybe the old bones don't work anymore."
Hermione scoffed and shook her head. "It's a spinal cord injury. The cord isn't a bone. It's damaged tissue."
Harry and Ron shared similar, confused expressions. Harry wasn't sure how a spinal cord had anything to do with bones, but as he got to the first set of stairs, he wondered if it was possible to sleep inside the infirmary that night instead of scaling seven floors to get to Gryffindor tower.
"One step at a time, mate," Ron said encouragingly. "I'll remind you when we get to the ones that disappear."
It took three times as long to get to the seventh floor as it usually did, which was made only more exasperating by Ron and Hermione's bickering over Muggle and magical healing methods. By the time they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry was drenched in sweat, panting, and ready to throw himself headfirst into bed.
Harry was instead greeted by dozens of enthusiastic Gryffindors upon swinging his legs into the portrait hole. While few Gryffindors visited him in the infirmary as he healed, as opposed to Cedric, who had a stream of Hufflepuffs to see him, Harry's support from his house came from within. A huge 'Welcome Home, Harry!' banner hung over the fireplace. There was always food and drink available for him, should he wish it. Confusingly, there were many witches who were eager to help, though when Ginny was around, none of them bothered to come near him.
He gladly took a goblet of pumpkin juice on his way to his dormitory, but before he could ascend the stairs, he was pressured into recounting his recent progress and planning for the third task. Ron and Hermione did most of the talking for him – Harry plonked himself on a nearby couch to get some much-needed rest – and by the time all the questions were answered, Harry was half-tempted to fall asleep on the couch, rather than going up more stairs to his bed.
"You don't think that Hagrid's going to give those skrewt things to the Triwizard Tournament, do you?" said Ron, once he flopped into an open seat next to Harry.
"I hope I get Buckbeak or Fluffy, if that's what they're planning." Harry groaned and tilted his head back, letting it rest against the back of the squashy couch. "If I even make it past them. Next week for the Easter hols, Tonks is going to make me train with her."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "She's an Auror!"
"I know," Harry replied, yawning widely at her. "But Dudley's going to be there too."
Ron furrowed his brow. "So? He'll stay out of your way, won't he?"
"I thought he didn't like magic," commented Hermione, as she tied up her bushy hair into something that resembled a nest on the top of her head.
Harry closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He was apprehensive about going home for the Easter holidays. He missed Grimmauld Place, as the prospect of only going up one set of stairs to his bed was quite appealing. He wanted to spend time away from the castle and everything to do with the Triwizard Tournament. In the back of his mind, he could still envision winning the tournament, raising the cup high in the air in victory, but the reality of his stiff, sore body brought him back to his senses. He tried to remind himself that staying alive ought to have been his only goal, but he couldn't ignore the swelling of pride in his chest at the image of being declared the winner.
There was the matter of Dudley, too. For months, Harry had dwelled on what to say to his cousin the next time they saw each other. Whenever he thought of it, no words came to mind. The only person who had helped Harry sort out his thoughts was Sirius, who had suffered so many injustices, from being overlooked by his parents in favor of his younger brother, Regulus, to Pettigrew, who had escaped from Azkaban while Sirius spent years suffering there. Sirius had reminded Harry repeatedly that in Regulus's case, there was more than met the eye, and their parents, Walburga and Orion, had more than their share of the blame for how the brothers were raised, not unlike how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shaped Dudley—
Harry heard his name in the distance. His hands came up to rub his eyes and he grumbled as he woke up from his slumber.
"You fell asleep," said Ron, shaking Harry gently. "C'mon, let's go upstairs."
Harry groaned as he stood, leaned on Ron for support, and trudged upstairs to the fourth-year boys' dormitory. He crashed into his bed, not bothering to take his robes off, and wondered what the next day would bring.
….
"Straw-colored hair, pale, some freckles, I think?" Dudley said nervously, seeing Mad-Eye Moody pacing back and forth in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. "Thin, sort of scrawny?"
"Age?" grunted Mad-Eye.
"I dunno – maybe forties or fifties? He looked old." Dudley squirmed in his seat while Mad-Eye and Dumbledore had a silent conversation. Remus, Sirius, and Tonks were worried, but Harry could hardly blame them. According to Dudley, he'd seen a strange man's face hiding in the bushes outside his dormitory at Smeltings. The first time he'd seen the face, he thought he was dreaming it. The second time, he was sure he saw something, and by the third time, he asked Dobby for help, as he'd sent Kreacher off to find him sweets.
By the time Dobby arrived, the man was no longer there and Kreacher had returned with the requested sweets. As it was Dudley's last night at Smeltings before the Easter holidays, Remus and Tonks decided to take him back to Grimmauld Place early to get as much information from him as possible. Harry had come home that evening, mildly irritated that his one Dudley-less night at Grimmauld Place had been taken away.
"You didn't see anyone else there, Dudley?" asked Dumbledore, bending down to meet his eyes. Dudley shook his head slowly and Dumbledore frowned, bending back up to meet Mad-Eye.
"I didn't get a good look," Dudley added. "It was dark."
"The other two times you saw this man," Remus said suddenly. "Did you send Kreacher or Dobby to get you something?"
Dudley turned pink and shook his head vigorously. "I…that was the first time."
"Don't lie, Dudley," Tonks snapped. Harry put his hand over his mouth to keep his smirk hidden. He knew it wasn't funny, but the more dug in his heels to tease Dudley, the harder it became for him to stop.
Sirius cleared his throat and directed his gaze at Dudley, saying, "We can order Kreacher to tell us the truth, if you won't."
Dudley blanched, darting his eyes between the many adults staring at him, and muttered, "Yeah. So what?"
"This is important," Remus said, as Tonks began to lose her temper; Harry could already see her hair going orange, even in the dimmer light of the kitchen. "We're trying to keep you safe and we can't do that if you're sending house elves off to get you sweets. If you want something, tell me or wait until the next day."
Tonks strode over to Dudley and took the seat across from him. "This is what we're going to do. You're going to tell me everything you remember about this bloke you saw and I'll change my features. Ready?"
Dudley nodded feebly and began re-describing the man he'd seen. Harry watched in fascination as Tonks asked for clarity on the nose, lips, eyes, and even placement of freckles upon the man's face. His eyes drifted up to Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Mad-Eye, who were watching Tonks too. While Mad-Eye and Dumbledore were as stoic as ever, Sirius's mouth had fallen open and Remus had his head tilted to one side, as if deep in thought.
When Tonks finished her morphing, Harry still couldn't recognize the man. Sirius and Remus spoke rapidly to each other; Mad-Eye and Dumbledore had their own conversation too.
"You recognize this face?" Tonks asked, moving her head from side to side to show off her profile.
"We do…but it's impossible," Sirius croaked, staring at Dumbledore. "It has to be."
"Improbable," Dumbledore corrected. His fingers drifted up to touch the tip of his long, silver beard. "If it is at all possible, we must find Barty Crouch Sr. immediately."
Harry frowned deeply and blurted, "What does he have to do with anything?"
Dumbledore turned to face Harry with a look in his eyes that Harry had long associated with hearing bad news. "If your cousin's memory serves us right, it appears we have another escapee from Azkaban," Dumbledore said slowly. Tonks did a double take from where she sat and squawked in disbelief.
"If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Barty Crouch Junior has escaped," Dumbledore declared. "We must alert his father immediately."
Harry saw all the others' faces drain of color. He knew there was something terribly wrong with another escapee from Azkaban, but he didn't get a chance to ask why, as Tonks and Mad-Eye disappeared, as did Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore.
Harry stared at Dudley, the two of them now alone in the kitchen, and decided to stomp out too, if only to order Kreacher to tell him everything he knew about the two Barty Crouches.