Harry was sure that he should have come across something by now. The silence of his surroundings was stifling, the hedges seeming to be closer together every time Harry looked around. The pathways were thin and cramped, and there was no way of even seeing the night sky, with some sort of cloud sitting above him. He was constantly moving, knowing that standing still would allow something to catch up to him. Though walking forward meant that he had to be moving closer to something too. There were no good options at the moment, besides hopefully getting lucky and stumbling across the trophy without actually having to fight anything. For the time being, he could believe that was possible.

Every sound that he heard, played against the backdrop of the eerie quiet around him, was enough to make him jump. A branch snapping, the bushes moving in the wind - it all added to the awful environment. It was as if someone had placed a spell on it to be extra creepy, which was entirely feasible given the magical abilities of those in charge of the tournament. But then Harry was hearing the unmistakable noise of spells being fired in the distance, and knew that wasn't just added for effect. All the champions must have been within the maze now, and he wondered what they were battling against. Hermione hadn't left his thoughts since he'd entered the labyrinth; all he wanted was to bump into her so that they could do this together. He was always stronger in her presence. And surely there were no rules against a bit of collaboration at this stage.

He really regretted making that wish as soon as he rounded the next corner.

Harry found her lying on the ground, leaning against one side of the hedgerow. He was instantly running towards her, collapsing to the floor to be on her level. He scrambled across the dirt, clamouring to be right in front of her. Her eyes were closed but that wasn't the most concerning sight by any means. Hermione's torso was a deep red, her shirt torn to shreds by some unseen monster that was potentially still nearby. Harry had no consideration for his safety, instead consumed by the need to somehow make sure she was okay. Her chest was slowly moving up and down, but it seemed to be getting slower with each second that ticked by.

"Is that…you, Harry?" she managed to choke out, her eyes flickering open.

Her skin was deathly pale by this point and Harry was well aware of the way his heart was thundering, the way his eyes were being filled with tears. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't supposed to happen. They'd made it this far against their wishes; this had been seen as the final, smaller hurdle to get through the year-long torment. They were meant to have faced everything down together, but here she was, succumbing to wounds that had been inflicted when she'd been painfully alone. If only he'd told her to rein her competitiveness in, her incessant need to prove her worth to people that didn't matter. People who couldn't ever compare to her brilliance.

"Yeah…it's me, 'Mione," he replied. Harry found it difficult to form proper sentences, his mind preoccupied with figuring out a solution. Where was Matthew now? They needed the Tardis to whisk her away to safety. There would be a cure in there somewhere. "What happened?"

"Sphinx…" Hermione whispered. "I couldn't move out of the way in time. Silly, really. I know I should…have gone the other way." Her voice was growing fainter.

All Harry could do was place his hands on her stomach, attempting to stop the flow of blood. "A sphinx?"

"We should have found another way out of this." It was like she was unable to hear his question now, her mind drifting away to a realm he never wanted her to visit. "My name should never have come out of the goblet. It's only because I was your friend that I was targeted. This is…your fault, Harry. This is another death that you caused."

He shakily moved away from her, his hands stained red. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you think Matthew will still be friends with you after this? He'll kill you for what you've done. You know he's more powerful than you. You won't be able to fight him. He'd be simply saving himself, and everyone else you know, by getting rid of you."

"I don't…believe this…"

Harry slowly got to his feet, staring in horror at his supposed friend. Even in this state, why would she be talking to him like this? Even if he thought her words were true, Hermione would never be the sort of person to say it. And then it dawned on him. They were his thoughts, not hers. He remembered all the sessions he'd had with Lupin the previous year, and the creature they had worked with the most.

"It was a sphinx that attacked you?" he reiterated slowly, his wand now drawn.

Hermione seemed to be growing more irate. "I already told you that, didn't I?" she snapped.

"But don't you have to solve a riddle to get past them? Sure, if you get it wrong, it would have done this to you…but if I know anything, it's that Hermione Granger's logic would never fail her." As he trained his wand, he really hoped he'd gotten this right. "Riddikulus!"

Hermione's body instantly transformed in a whirlwind of smoke into some sort of crash dummy, its spongy limbs flailing dramatically as it was quickly consumed by the twisting branches of the hedge behind it. Harry let out a breath that he hadn't really realised he'd been holding, looking down at his hands, which were still coloured with the blood of the illusion. A boggart, feeding on his worst fears. It had taken him a while to figure it out solely because he'd been used to facing a dementor in that situation. It seemed that his mastery of the patronus charm had weakened that fear. But when had Hermione dying become his greatest fear? It was an image that still left him shaking, though he was unwilling to use the hedge for support after what he'd seen it do to the dummy.

"Harry?" a voice called. "Is that you?"

He gripped his wand once more, poised to strike. He remained still as Hermione came round the corner, skidding to a halt when she saw him. It was probably a contest to see who was looking worse. Harry must have appeared gaunt and ghostly after what he'd just been through, his skin feeling awfully slick and clammy, whilst Hermione had a noticeable cut across her cheek and a branch had been caught in her mane of hair. It left her looking almost feral.

Harry wanted to be relieved at the sight and yet was no longer taking any chances. "Are you real?" His voice was shaky and he idly wondered what she must have been thinking of him in that moment.

Her face became lined with a frown. "Pardon?"

"Are you real, Hermione? I need to know that it's actually you."

She risked taking a few steps closer to him. "It's me, Harry. I'm not going to hurt you." She held her wand high, palms open. "What did you see before me?"

"It was…it was a boggart," Harry explained, slowly wanting to accept that she was truly there. "I got rid of it. That's all you need to know."

"But…if you're asking if I'm really here…did the boggart transform into someone? Did it change itself into me ?"

Harry gave her a dark look. "I don't want to talk about it." He wasn't in the right emotional state to comprehend what it truly meant. It was safer territory to just focus on her. "What happened to you?" She'd moved close enough to him now that he could reach out and gently stroke the slight gash on her cheek. "It looks bad."

Hermione smiled weakly, knowing that there was no use in forcing him to talk about his experience. "I got in a tussle with an acromantula."

His eyes widened. "Should I even be surprised that you got out of there with nothing more than a scratch?"

"It was terrifying though." Her eyes glazed over as she recalled the event. "There was one point where it felt as if it was beginning to overpower me. I was lucky that my hex landed right on the joint of its leg, otherwise it might not have stopped and then…and then…it would have…"

Harry brought her close. "We don't need to think about that now. You survived, like you've done throughout this whole ordeal. Let's keep it that way."

"How do you suppose we do that?" She laughed a little as she looked at her surroundings.

"Let's give up."

"What?" Hermione pushed herself away from him.

"You heard the instructions that McGonagall gave us. All we have to do is send up some red sparks and they'll come running to help us. If they've got that measure in place, then surely it's not a matter of forfeiting. We've completed the tournament just by getting to this point. The goblet doesn't have any power over us anymore."

"But…we're so close." It was like she could feel that the goblet was nearby. "We've come this far. It'd almost…be a shame to quit now."

"I don't care!" Harry shouted angrily. "I've had enough of it! I don't care about winning! It's nowhere near as important as protecting ourselves. I won't let you put yourself in harm's way anymore. I've just had to witness what that's like and I refuse to live through it again."

"So you did see me…" she said quietly.

Harry realised his mistake quickly, knowing that his emotions had let slip that crucial bit of information. "Don't make me go through it again…please."

"Red sparks, yeah?"

His face lit up momentarily. "That's what she said."

Hermione grabbed his free hand. "We'll do this together. We entered this blasted tournament together. We'll finish it in the same fashion."

They looked up at the sky, obscured as it was by the strange fog up above. As one, they raised their wands and produced the flares that would hopefully get them to safety. The brilliant light was a stark contrast to their bleak surroundings, temporarily illuminating the maze and making it somewhat more pleasant to be within. The respite was short lived, with the sparks quickly dying and fading away. There was no sign of any help coming straight away. Harry knew that waiting was to be accepted, but he couldn't help but be on edge for however long it took for the others to at least recognise their peril.

"What do we do now?" he asked. "Just stand here and wait?"

"That's all we can do. If we start moving around again, they'll struggle to find us." She was still looking around nervously, the darkness closing in.

"Well, I'm glad that I've at least got company for hanging around. I don't think I would have been able to stand still for very long otherwise."

"Do you think the others are still okay?"

"Hopefully. My priority is obviously you but I think we would have seen by now if someone else was in trouble. Who knows…maybe we'll all ask to be taken out and no one will be crowned champion. That'd be the comeuppance that the Ministry deserves after what it's put us through."

Hermione smiled at the thought. "Oh, I really hope that happens now."

They must have been standing there for less than a minute but the time dragged on. Harry started to wonder what was keeping them, debating whether to produce more sparks as if that would make them move faster. But then Hermione was gripping his arm as the sound of footsteps could be heard, a branch snapping as someone hurriedly approached. Whoever it was was running towards them, and they didn't know whether to be filled with confidence about that. Either they were rushing to reach them, or they were trying to outrun something decidedly less savoury.

"Can you see anything?" Hermione whispered.

Harry shook his head. "No, it's too dark. Hold on…"

A quick lumos made the tip of his wand light up, bathing the path ahead of them in a startling bright light. It was so dazzling that it had the opposite of the desired effect, obscuring their vision as the footsteps picked up, getting closer. By the time they were able to properly see again, the approaching visitor must have been right upon them, as the closest corner began to rustle ominously…

…and Matthew stepped into view.

Without much thought, Hermione immediately ran towards him, enveloping him in a hug that was definitely more for her benefit than his. It was a way of anchoring herself back to reality, reassuring herself that the ordeal was reaching the end. She didn't really notice the way he was initially rigid to her touch, reluctant to return the embrace until a few uneasy seconds had passed. He was the one to break up the hug, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand.

"You needed some help?" he asked casually.

Harry had expected him to be more urgent given the situation, especially if he'd thought they were in serious trouble. "They sent you?"

Matthew looked offended. "Who better to save you other than your best friend? Dumbledore thought I'd be able to get here the quickest out of everyone. And I've got more of a reason to help you, obviously."

"Are you going to get us out of here?" Hermione asked.

"Is that what you want? Are you definitely okay with giving up? Once you've made that decision, it's final."

Again, Harry would have expected his friend to not even want to question their decision after how strongly he'd been against the tournament over the past year. "We're sure."

"Then I'll get you out of the maze."

"How does this work then? Do we apparate or…?"

Matthew frowned at him. "How would we apparate? We're not of age, silly. And the wards around the maze would make it impossible. You could just jump to where the cup is if you were lucky, which would be dreadfully boring. No…the quickest way out of here…is actually the cup itself."

"I don't think I'm following," Hermione admitted.

"The trophy waiting at the end of the maze is a portkey! It's literally programmed to take the winner out of the maze and back to the stands. As soon as we reach it, we'll be safe."

"Doesn't that…sort of…defeat the purpose of us asking for help? If we're still going to reach the end?"

"Well, you could think like that. But I've been given the short cut to where it's hidden, allowing us to bypass most of the hedges. It's technically cheating and devalues the victory, so you wouldn't be seen as the true champions. Do you really want to be worrying about that right now? Or do you want to finish this thing at last?"

"Definitely the latter option."

Matthew nodded his head and turned on his heel sharply, walking away without properly checking to see if they were following. Hermione and Harry shared a confused look at his erratic behaviour, but he'd never been the most normal of teenagers since they'd first met him. They quickly caught up to him, following him along every different path he headed down with little warning. At certain points, when it seemed to be a dead end that they'd reached, he would casually wave his wand and the bushes would part, creating a new route only for them. Matthew didn't slow or pause at any moment, as if he knew exactly what was to happen at every turn. They struggled to keep up with him at times, almost tripping up in their efforts to maintain his quick pace.

At one point, Matthew disappeared around one corner a few moments before them. They could make out an unexpected glow, a shout of some kind, and then a loud thud. By the time they were reunited with him, practically sprinting to see what had happened, the pair simply found Matthew on his own, the roots of the hedges receding back into their normal position. He appeared strangely calm, as if nothing strange had transpired in the seconds he'd been unseen.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked with ragged breath.

"I would be if you could hurry up a bit," he replied. "I thought you wanted this to be over."

"We did," Harry argued, growing impatient. "When we asked for that, we thought it'd involve no more walking around this stupid maze! We're just doing the task instead of leaving! Just with an added entourage."

"I saw a flash of some kind," Hermione said, not letting the point slip. "Was there something here? Did you have to perform a spell?"

"Just lighting up the path to see where we're headed," Matthew explained, though he'd already turned around by this point, beginning his march once more. "Nothing to worry about. And Harry…you just have to trust me on this. You were so deep in the maze by the time I reached you that this really is the quickest - and safest - way out. Have I led you wrong at any point?"

Harry couldn't argue with his logic. He presumed that it was just the unusual setting that was playing havoc with his nerves, so he pressed on as his friends started to walk again. He didn't like the fact that Matthew wasn't checking every corner to see if there were any obstacles, as if he knew that nothing monstrous would be waiting for them. It was the sort of reckless confidence that Harry had never been bestowed with. But it apparently served them well when they reached a clearing, where a glowing object sat upon a stone pedestal.

"Is that it?" Hermione asked, not that she really needed the clarification.

It was fairly obvious what it was. The cup was perhaps smaller than Harry had been anticipating, but that was mainly because of how much the organisers had bigged up the prize over the months. Eternal glory seemed to warrant a larger trophy, but who was he to complain? If it got them out of trouble, then he didn't remotely care what it looked like. He was tempted to run towards it but something was holding him back, as if this felt far too easy. Surely at least one of the champions must have come close to it by now, yet there was no sign of anyone else. Just a turquoise cup begging to be lifted.

"Your ticket out of here," Matthew said, his speed a mere slow stroll now for the final leg. It was just a few steps between them and the magical object.

"Is there something particular that we have to do?" Harry wondered. One step closer. It seemed like the cup was drawing him in.

"Just touch it. It's a portkey. You know what they are."

"Do we do it together? Or is it like…one person at a time?"

"It'd be a pretty rubbish escape route if it was the latter." Matthew gave them both a slight nudge. "Come on, we don't have all day."

The three of them closed the distance together before they were standing right in front of the cup. Its blue glow was reflected in their eyes, the reason why they had been tormented for an entire year. He shared one last look with Hermione, who appeared hesitant to touch the object. It was almost ethereal, humming with power. Matthew simply rolled their eyes at the delay, guiding their hands closer until they were inches away from the handles.

"It feels like it should be a bigger moment," Harry admitted. "Not many people get their hands on this."

"You're not winning," Matthew reminded him. "You're fleeing. There's a big difference. So…if you would…"

Harry didn't particularly want to be rushed but understood the need for urgency. He grasped the handle at the same time as Hermione and for the briefest of seconds, nothing happened. He looked to Matthew, who, for some reason, appeared to be smirking.

"At last," the boy muttered.

He seemed to fade away but Harry couldn't tell whether that was because of something happening to him or whether it was down to the horrendous tugging sensation he felt as the portkey activated. He and Hermione were whisked away, pushed through a torrent of wind that was suffocating and overwhelming their senses. It was impossible to let go of the cup as they flew through…Harry didn't know what it was. He'd experienced apparition before whilst clinging onto Dumbledore's arm, but this was far more nauseating. The only consolation was that it was a mercifully short trip, and they were landing on a patch of grass after less than a minute. It was still enough to leave Harry shaking and on the cusp of being sick, though the bile thankfully remained at the bottom of his throat.

He'd obviously been expecting to find himself back at the start of the task, where everyone would be waiting for them. Maybe they would celebrate the fact that they'd claimed the trophy. Maybe they'd forfeited the right to have any congratulations, and the cup would be taken from them to be placed back in its position for the true champions still left standing. He'd expected to be met with a wall of sound after the endless quiet they'd been forced to endure, with the band announcing their arrival to the shouts of the gleeful audience. Yet there was no such welcome.

They weren't back in the quidditch stadium. They weren't anywhere near Hogwarts by the looks of things, with the castle and its surrounding mountains nowhere to be seen. It was just as dark and gloomy as the maze, though they at least had more space to walk in as they slowly got back to their feet. Harry could make out the silhouettes of graves in the distance, making it clear that they were now in a cemetery. But why had the portkey taken them there? Was it another stage to the task that Bagman hadn't thought to tell them about? The tournament had been about surprising them, so an extra level wouldn't have been the most astonishing news. Harry wasn't feeling confident, however, that that was the case.

"Where's Matthew?" Hermione asked fearfully. "Why didn't he come with us?"

"I…don't know," Harry answered her truthfully. "But I think he might have been wrong about the portkey. Where are we?"

"Nowhere good, I reckon. Keep your wand out, Harry. I don't like this. How many times has Matthew got something wrong?"

"He could have been lying."

"That's what's terrifying me. Because what would make him lie to us ?"

"Hermione…what if it wasn't him?" He ran his spare hand through his hair. "I saw a vision of you in there, after all. What if that was the same?"

"Not even a boggart could make something that realistic. And it wouldn't want us to leave, would it? It'd want to feast on our fears. I didn't feel scared around him. Did you? It's only now that I'm feeling like that."

"Maybe that's the point."

"Harry…" Hermione was looking to a point further onwards, where a part of the cemetery was shrouded in darkness. "Someone's coming."

"Get behind me," he instantly said.

"I don't need protecting." She stood by his side instead, her wand out confidently.

The figure was slow in its approach but, as it got closer, Harry's forehead began to tickle oddly. He tried to dismiss it, focusing on the strange bundle the figure was carrying, in the shape of a baby from what they could make out through the dark. It was only when the person reached a tall, marble headstone just in front of them did Harry's scar explode with an agonising pain. He was brought to the ground in a defeated heap, his wand rolling away from his hand. Hermione was quickly by his side, almost straddling him as she looked at the now bleeding wound.

"Harry! Harry! What's wrong? What's happening?" she cried, bleating in a high pitched tone of voice.

"Shut the girl up!" an icy voice commanded and, unbeknownst to Harry, the figure raised its wand and sent Hermione flying. He tried to look up, to turn his head, just about able to make out her slumped body against a nearby gravestone. Ropes were slowly winding around her wrists and covering her mouth, yet he was powerless to help her.

In the commotion, the figure had transfigured a cauldron by his marked spot, still cradling the bundle. The pot was bubbling away ominously, heating up faster than it should have been able to when crackling flames appeared underneath it. Harry considered marching towards him, regardless of the pain he was enduring, but, as soon as he took one tentative step, he was thrown backwards just like Hermione, colliding against a headstone and left dangling on it, his feet above the ground as he too became bound by ropes. He was somewhat grateful for that when he saw the snake appear from within the long grass, since he was a bit more out of reach of the terrifying creature. Not that the short height difference would have prevented him from being attacked.

All he could do was watch as the person worked away. The cauldron changed colours with every step. A bone from the grave Harry was desecrating. A rather gruesome act of mutilation which saw the figure's hand join the concoction. The blood forcibly taken from Harry's palm that barely registered against the backdrop of his scar-focused torment. He watched it happen in front of him, watched as the bundle was thrown into the boiling mixture. He was yet to see what it was. He was yet to see who this figure was. He was yet to know what was going on, determined to stop them only because they'd dared to hurt Hermione.

He shielded his eyes as the cauldron exploded into a dizzying array of sparks, something more fanciful than the grim event deserved. Harry forced himself to watch after that, observing how a tunnel of mist formed above the smoking pot, whipped into a frenzy like some sort of tornado. Harry refused to avert his gaze, relieved when the wind began to settle down. A sense of relief that lasted mere moments when he saw the skeletal figure left in its place. A person that he'd faced before. A person that had been brought to his mind whenever his worst memories were relived. A person he was now watching receive a black robe from his dutiful servant, who cowered at the man's feet.

Even then, Harry didn't look away as Lord Voldemort stood before him.