Chapter Thirty-Four – Conquerors of Olympus
The flickering light from the fire danced across the two motionless figures on the floor.
They were a man and a woman, both middle-aged, both blond and elegantly dressed, but their faces could not have been more different. The man's features were frozen in pain, a grimace of horror, and dark blood dripped from empty eye sockets onto the carpet. The woman's face, on the other hand, was completely calm, although there was a hint of horror in her dull eyes. But apart from that small detail, she looked perfectly peaceful, as if she were about to rise again.
But she wouldn't, because she was dead. Just like the man. Her husband.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been murdered.
By Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass.
The two teenagers were still in the fireplace room at Malfoy Manor. They stood in the middle of the room, but they had no eyes, no sense, no sympathy for the two corpses around them. They only had eyes for each other.
With one hand, Harry gently stroked Daphne's cheek, which felt so soft again under his fingers. With the other hand, he held her close to him, needing to feel her warmth, her vitality, her love. It was as if her body glowed, but in a strange, pleasant way. He held her even tighter and she pressed against him as if their bodies were a perfect match.
They were, as Harry knew only too well by now. He felt his own desire rise at the memory, and Daphne must have felt it too, but she just gave him one of those meaningful smiles he loved so much. A slight goosebump on her fever-warm body was the only sign that desire was awakening in her, too.
At the same time, their lips moved towards each other, no longer rough and torn, but seductively soft and shiny. At least that's how Harry felt as he prepared to kiss Daphne more tenderly than ever before, just to show her that she held his heart in her hands. That he had given it to her willingly. And that together they had overcome the nightmare of the past few hours.
Their lips were just millimetres apart. Harry could already feel Daphne's breath on his face, giving him goosebumps too – when suddenly there was a sharp scream!
Harry and Daphne spun round. At the same moment there was the sound of china breaking.
A house-elf was standing on the doorstep. At her feet was a tray with two broken, slightly steaming teacups. The house-elf was staring at them with wide eyes, pupils the size of small tennis balls.
But there were other things that caught Harry's eye. The house-elf had long black hair that, if it had been washed and cared for, would have shone in the firelight like Daphne's, but it was dirty and matted. The house-elf was dressed in a piece of cloth that looked a little like a pillowcase, the original colour of which could only be guessed. And the body in that rag was emaciated and full of bandages and plasters. She really did look miserable.
The house-elf reminded him of Dobby, the strange, brave and, above all, dead house-elf who had tried to warn him in his second year.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Daphne clutching her wand tighter, but he put a hand on her arm, a silent plea to stop. Then he walked slowly towards the house-elf. He tried to keep his expression as calm and sympathetic as possible.
"It's all right," he said. "We're not going to hurt you. What's your name?"
The house-elf looked anxiously between her dead masters, him and Daphne. Her body began to shake.
Harry repeated his question. "Aren't you going to tell us your name?"
"You... you killed them..." The house-elf's voice was quiet, but with a strange accent. Despite her trembling, it sounded somehow melodious. And it was clear that she was not a native speaker.
"We have," Daphne said, her voice sharp as a blade. "Does that make us your enemies, elf?"
The house elf shook her head slowly, her strands playing around her bat-like ears. "No, that makes you Elga's..." She lifted her head to look directly at them. Tears glistened in her yellow eyes. She sniffled loudly. "Please forgive Elga's rudeness, dear guests. Elga ... Elga is happy! The masters ... they weren't good..." She let out another loud sniffle that spread throughout her body.
Harry felt a pang in his heart. It really was as if history was repeating itself. But this time he was stronger than in his second year. Much, much stronger. He had learned a lot and he also felt his Impetus pulsing inside him, satiated for the moment. He no longer had to stand by and watch an injustice like the one that had happened to Dobby. That hadn't been their motivation for coming here today, but sometimes there had to be positive side effects. Sometimes there just had to be happy twists and turns. And if not, he would force them.
He carefully knelt in front of the elf, who immediately lowered her gaze. He took her hands in his. They trembled and felt as dry as twigs. "Your name is Elga?" he asked softly.
The elf nodded.
"Where are you from, Elga? Not from England?"
The house elf, Elga, shook her head. "I ... I'm not sure. From a far country, I think. From a dark place. But there were many others like me..."
"An illegal breeding facility," Daphne whispered behind him. Harry felt a new pang in his heart.
Elga continued. "The land is called Peru by the humans, I think."
"Do you want to go back there, Elga?" Harry asked.
The elf shrugged her slender shoulders. She still kept her head down, as if she didn't dare look them in the face anymore.
Now Daphne knelt beside him. She also took one of Elga's hands and looked at the little elf with a penetrating gaze. Harry felt an intense feeling wash over him through their bond. It was strange and familiar at the same time and reminded him a little of how it felt when he was a crow, soaring into the boundless sky with powerful flaps of his wings.
"You can probably feel it yourself now," Daphne said. "The spell that bound you to your masters is broken. And as an illegal import into Britain, you need have no fear that you will now be inherited by the disgraceful son of the family, according to the laws of this country." Daphne's pretty face showed clear disgust at these words before she turned back to the elf in front of her. "No, you are free now, Elga. No longer shall you be a slave, but the mistress of your own life and destiny. You can do whatever you want now, wherever you want."
Now Harry understood. "Is this what you want?" he asked.
Do you want to be free? he meant. Do you want to accept our inadvertent gift?
"You ... you won't hurt Elga?"
"Why should we?" said Daphne. "We have nothing to fear from you, do we?"
Elga couldn't see it from where she was standing, but Harry saw exactly how Daphne held her wand, the tip pointing directly at the house-elf. Elga's next words would decide her life, he knew that.
He also knew that he couldn't just kill her like that. Unlike the Malfoys before. Or the house-elf Kreacher of Grimmauld Place, he suddenly remembered. Yes, he hadn't just become a murderer today, even if it had been Daphne and his curses together that had killed the elf back then.
But today it had felt better.
Still... he was very reluctant to have the blood of that little, mistreated elf on his hands. And so, before Elga could answer, he said, "No, we haven't, have we, Elga? We're friends, aren't we?"
"F-friends?"
Daphne slid closer to him. Their shoulders touched and a hot spark shot through Harry's body. But Daphne's eyes were on Elga. "Friends kill people who hurt them. Just like we did for you, Elga. We freed you because we're your friends."
Now Elga looked up again. Again – or still – there were tears in her yellowish eyes. And again her hands trembled in Harry's and Daphne's, but Harry had the feeling that this time it was for a different reason.
A few seconds passed, but finally Elga said, her voice firm and determined, "Friends."
Some time later, Harry and Daphne were walking side by side back down the country lane that had led them to the Malfoy estate. The trees that lined the path still stretched their bare branches towards the sky like bony fingers, but they didn't seem as eerie as they had on the way there. The clouds in the night sky had parted a little, allowing the moonlight to be joined by a multitude of stars. The trees looked a little like they were reaching for the light, but of course they could never reach it.
Their footsteps were the only sound. Otherwise it was dead quiet around them, especially at their backs.
Harry thought of Elga, who had gone her own way. She hadn't known what she wanted to do, now that the whole wide world was open to her, but he hoped she would find happiness. And who knew, maybe they would meet again one day…
A sudden giggle to his right snapped Harry out of his thoughts. It came from Daphne. He looked at his partner.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I was just thinking about something." Daphne brushed one of her black strands from her pretty face and looked at him. The moonlight reflected in her amber eyes. "Pansy made fun of you once to irritate me. She laughed at you for being an orphan. And, well, do you think she'll laugh at dear Draco now?"
Daphne started to giggle again. It was a strange sound in the nocturnal landscape around them.
Harry was glad to see her so happy again after the horrors of the last few hours, but still... he couldn't bring himself to laugh as well. And so he just gave her a smile.
"You can tell me about it, then."
It was a long flight, followed by a stealthy sneak back into the castle and a tender goodbye kiss from Harry that finally brought Daphne back to the Slytherin dungeon.
It was almost dawn, but she wasn't tired. In fact, she had never felt so awake, so completely alive, as she had in the last few hours. All she had to do was concentrate and she could already feel a comforting warmth inside her, a blazing but pleasant fire that supplied her whole body with tremendous strength. And she only had to concentrate a little differently to feel her bond with Harry. It was fiery too, and the feeling was pleasant too, more than pleasant even. She hoped she would never lose those two feelings again, not like she had earlier that day.
Next time, they would have to be careful when their Impetus needed to be fed. But for now, it seemed to have had enough.
Thank Morgana they had been right in their hypothesis, Daphne thought as she moved through the corridors, almost invisible. And thank Morgana that their plan had worked. And the fact that they had rid the world of one of the most horrible people it had ever known, well, that was a nice bonus she was happy to take with her.
Daphne thought back to the moment when Harry had given in to all his hatred... Seconds later, Lucius Malfoy had been dead. Or had it been his love for her? Perhaps a mixture of both.
It was a strange feeling to know that it was she who had brought Harry this far. She had changed him since they first met, dragged him down with her, or lifted him to the highest heights. It was probably a matter of perspective, like so many things in life.
Finally, Daphne reached her dormitory, which was completely dark at this time of night. The heavy green curtains were drawn so that not even the water of the lake could be seen beyond. Only the glowing coals of a cast-iron stove in the corner provided some light.
She might have an hour or two before the others got up, Daphne thought. Perhaps she could read a little in one of the books from the Room of Requirement, or meditate a little, or do her Occlumency exercises, Morgana knew that would probably be useful. But first she needed to freshen up. Harry would always say she smelled good, but she felt sweaty and was sure she smelled like cold crow.
Daphne was on her way to the bathroom when the curtain of one of the beds opened. It was Tracey's bed, and moments later her roommate rose from it.
If Tracey was surprised to see Daphne standing in the room in the middle of the night, she didn't show it. At least not in her posture, for her face was hidden in the darkness. Her shadowy figure stood erect, her back straight as a cube.
Daphne, meanwhile, had stopped. For a few moments the two girls just looked at each other. It wasn't that Daphne was worried – Tracey wasn't holding a wand – but she remembered how Tracey had confronted her a few hours ago. How angry she'd been at her, as if it was her fault that Tracey's father was a monster and Tracey was too weak to fight him.
"You're up early," Tracey's voice finally broke the silence.
"No earlier than usual," Daphne said. That was a lie. Even by her standards this would be very early.
"You look better than yesterday. Much better, in fact."
Daphne said nothing.
"Except for the blood on your collar."
Daphne stifled a curse. She could barely resist the impulse to look at her collar. She had thought she had wiped away all the blood, but obviously she had missed something.
She turned her back on Tracey. "You're talking nonsense, Davis. Now leave me alone."
"Or what?"
"Just leave me alone. You don't want me to be your enemy, believe me."
With that, Daphne walked to the bathroom and was about to open the door when Tracey's voice sounded behind her again. This time it was softer, barely more than a whisper.
"If ... if I'd been stronger when we first came to Hogwarts ... and ... if I hadn't clung to Pansy right away ... could we maybe have been friends then?"
Daphne paused. She used her magical senses to make sure that Pansy and Millicent were still fast asleep, and only then did she answer. "No, I don't think so. I don't need friends, Davis."
"Then what do you need?"
Daphne thought. She had already said far too much, and Tracey already knew far too much, but something inside her urged her to answer. So she said, "I need what any ambitious person needs."
With that she opened the door to the bathroom and walked in without waiting for an answer. Behind her, the door slammed shut with a soft click. At the same moment, several magical lamps under the ceiling began to light up.
Daphne walked to the sink. She was about to splash some water on her face when she looked at her reflection and noticed an important detail. Her collar – there was not a drop of blood on it.
The moment Draco learned of his parents' fate was clearly evident.
Two days later, during Potions, their classmate was called to the Headmaster's office. At the following dinner in the Great Hall, Draco was nowhere to be seen. Pansy looked worried, but the others didn't seem particularly interested in his absence. Only Harry and Daphne exchanged a meaningful look.
It took until the next morning for the news to reach the public. The Daily Prophet splashed the news across its front page in big, bold letters: MYSTERY AROUND MALFOYS – VANISHED FROM EARTH?
And with each passing day, it only got worse. The disappearance of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, one of the most famous and glamorous couples in wizarding Britain, set off a storm of speculation and rumour.
Had they simply gone on a decadent world tour? Had they fled to escape the vengeance of some cruel goblins they had taunted? Did they have money problems and could not pay their debts?
Some even suggested that the two Malfoys had lost their magic in a failed ritual and, ashamed that they could no longer live up to their own pure-blood ideology, had emigrated to Australia to grow cabbages. Well, actually only a magazine called The Quibbler believed that, but there was a Ravenclaw student in the year below them who told the story to anyone who wanted to hear it, or didn't want to hear it. Apparently there had been an ugly confrontation between this girl and Pansy, but Harry didn't know how it had ended. He didn't really care either, although he did notice that Pansy looked even paler shortly afterwards.
Gradually, however, more and more evidence began to emerge that pointed to a much more drastic interpretation. In particular, the news that the Malfoys' house-elf had left the country, unhindered by magical restraints, led to only one conclusion: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were not missing, they were dead.
This only fuelled the speculation, as the whole country now wondered how they had died – and why there was no clue to the circumstances of their deaths, or at least to their bodies. And there would be no clue, Harry thought with quiet satisfaction, because he and Daphne had been thorough. At the Malfoys' funeral, two empty coffins would have to be carried to the grave.
A week later, Draco finally returned to Hogwarts. As the school rumour mill soon revealed, he had been placed in the care of his godfather, Tiberius Nott, as he was still a minor. It certainly seemed as if the little pureblood prince had lost his crown, for Draco was quiet and withdrawn upon his return. But Harry knew that this happiness would not last forever, and he was already preparing for the old Draco to get on his nerves again soon.
While his hated classmate was pleasantly quiet at the moment, heated discussions were taking place elsewhere. For not everyone could cope with feigning false sympathy or keeping their true feelings to themselves out of a self-imposed compulsion for politeness.
"They just got what they deserved," Susan said a few days later, as the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs returned to the castle from the greenhouses. "I'm certainly not going to shed a tear for them."
"But if someone has committed vigilante justice, then that's to be condemned." That was Hermione. She had a pensive look on her face, as if they were discussing the great questions of the world. "If everyone thought they could take the law into their own hands, our rule of law and order would quickly come to an end."
Susan made a dismissive gesture with her hand as the others, including Harry, listened in curiosity. "In a just legal system, there would be no need for vigilante justice. In a state of law worthy of the name. If the authorities themselves would punish criminals appropriately instead of just locking them up. Or even let them go like the Malfoys."
"Are you talking about capital punishment?" Hermione's voice had risen considerably. "Because that's against human rights! You can't answer injustice with injustice, history has shown us that more than clearly. And Britain has signed several international treaties that forbid such things, such as the Treaties of the European Community or the Council of Europe's Convention on Human Rights."
"Muggle treaties. And anyway, they'd have to be human in the first place for human rights to apply to them."
Hermione stood still. Stunned, she looked at Susan. "It's words like that that have led us to the darkest times in our history! Susan, you can't be serious. Especially from you, I would have expected something else. After all, your aunt is the head of magical law enforcement. And anyway, it's the pardon we give to the worst of us that shows what our society, our civilisation, is capable of. That we are better than the criminals!"
Susan just let out a loud snort. Before she could reply, Neville suddenly spoke. His cheeks had taken on a strange red colour. This was uncharacteristic of him.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed at Hermione. "So just keep your mouth shut for once, even if it's hard for you. And don't you dare insult Susan like that ever again!"
With that Neville took his girlfriend's hand and the young couple walked fast away from the group. Harry heard them talking quickly but quietly. Neither Neville nor Susan looked back as they disappeared into the castle.
Outside on the path, Hermione looked around with a confused expression on her face. "What was that?" she asked, "What's got into them?"
Harry started to move again, shaking his head slightly. "Perhaps you should ask yourself why Neville lives with his grandmother and Susan lives with her aunt, Hermione. Such circumstances might change your perspective on such moral issues..."
Hermione and Susan didn't talk much after that.
Meanwhile, January progressed and eventually turned into February. Harry and Daphne spent most of their time training, and their progress knew no bounds.
They were undoubtedly aided by their Impetus, that reactor of unparalleled power within them, which helped them convert the life power they drew from the pain of their victims into magic power. But they also quickly learned that they had to be careful to use this power with the necessary precision, lest they overshoot the mark with simple spells. It was a bit like trying to cut a loaf of bread with a broadsword. It took a lot of practice and concentration, but eventually they got better at it, because if there was one thing they didn't lack, it was the tenacity and determination to achieve their great goals.
"Besides, I'm one of the most patient people in the world," Daphne said one evening as she cast a perfect sunlight spell that she had failed so badly in Lupin's class. "Of course, I'm glad we're such naturals, but it wouldn't have been a problem for me if we'd had to practise a bit mo– hey, don't laugh!"
Harry only laughed all the more, which Daphne made him regret in their next training fight. But he got even with her in their practice fight after that. And their subsequent tender reconciliation, which lasted for half of the night, made up for everything for both of them in the end.
But as much as their Impetus strengthened their magical powers, they also knew that it would eventually need new nourishment, namely the pain of people. It was only a matter of time. The only question was how much time.
Since they couldn't say for sure, they took precautions to be able to satisfy their Impetus's hunger immediately the next time. So that the experience of the last time, which they both just wanted to forget, would never happen again.
They also knew that they wouldn't be able to do what they had done to Lucius Malfoy a second time. The wizarding world was more vigilant now and they couldn't risk getting caught. For then it would all be over before it had even begun. Their dream would melt between their fingers like thin blood. They would never let that happen!
But before they had to go hunting again, it was time for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament...
The roar of hundreds of voices reached Harry, a wave of sound that surged and ebbed like the sea. He didn't need to turn around to know that the stand behind him was packed to bursting. The same was true to his left and right, where wooden structures rose like a vast amphitheatre, each tier filled to the brim with spectators.
Everyone had gathered here: the students of Hogwarts, their flags and signs in bright red, yellow, green and blue – the official colours of their houses – waving energetically. Students from other wizarding schools added splashes of their own unique colours to the crowd. Teachers, parents and many other magical folk from near and far completed the crowd. It was a much larger crowd than the first task three months ago.
Despite the buzz of voices, there was an expectant tension in the air. And the eyes of the spectators were fixed excitedly on the centre. For the stands did not simply surround a piece of land – or a simple enclosure as in the first task – no, this time the tournament organisers seemed to have outgrown themselves.
Surrounded by the spectator stands, a huge mountain rose up, several hundred metres high, a truly imposing colossus of earth and stone. Its steep slopes were littered with sharp-edged boulders. Scattered among the rocks were trees and shrubs, their green leaves looking strangely out of place in the dull winter weather. Nevertheless, the sight of the man-made mountain was impressive – a formidable challenge that the champions would have to face.
At the top of the mountain, a few dark silhouettes could be seen, little more than specks against the grey winter sky, but even they had a purpose, Harry was sure of it. And circling around the top of the mountain were several Harpies, those legendary hybrid creatures of bird and man. The distance was too great, of course, but Harry thought he could hear their shrill laughter, like the voices in the Golden Egg.
On either side of the mountain stood a champion. To his left stood Daphne, her eyes fixed on the mountain. Her silken black hair fluttered in the wind, as did the robe she was wearing, which was silver on the inside and fell below her waist. Underneath, she wore black trousers and elegant, custom-made dragonhide boots. She looked calm and focused, but Harry could feel her excitement through their bond as if it were his own.
To his right stood Fleur Delacour, her posture as graceful and confident as ever, but Harry was sure she was far more nervous than he and Daphne. After all, she was in last place and needed to prove herself if she was to have any chance of the glory and honour that the tournament promised.
Viktor Krum had to stand on the other side of the mountain so that Harry couldn't see him. He would probably not see him until he had climbed the mountain himself and could laugh at his opponent.
"Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests from near and far – welcome to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament!" Bagman's magically amplified voice rang out over the roaring crowd. "It will be a task that will demand everything of our champions, one that will test their tenacity, endurance and determination to the limit. For something has been taken from all of them!" A collective gasp went through the crowd. Harry rolled his eyes. "They've all had someone stolen from them, someone they would sorely miss, someone they must save! But they only have one hour to brave the dangers, climb Mount Olympus and bring their missing person down safely – or the merciless and treacherous Harpies will never let them go again!"
Harry was sure this was complete rubbish. The organisers of the tournament couldn't be that stupid, and Dumbledore in particular wouldn't want any more innocent blood on his hands. Although his fate was already sealed, their headmaster didn't know that yet...
More and more spectators turned their eyes to the dark silhouettes on the mountaintop, who remained motionless. So these were the hostages, their targets for this task.
Couldn't they have just taken some more golden eggs, Harry thought. Surely that would have been more practical, and the champions should develop enough ambition to complete the tasks victoriously without such tricks. But perhaps it was more poetic or something.
Harry shook his head. He thought he knew who was waiting for him at the top. He hadn't seen Ron all day and he also wasn't in the stands. Only Hermione, Neville and the other Gryffindors – with the exception of Parvati – waved at him as he looked around the rows of spectators.
He then looked at the Slytherins of his year in the stands to his left. Most of them looked as serious as they had for weeks, and Draco in particular was looking sickly pale. But Draco's eyes were fixed on Daphne, who was standing in front of their stand. Harry couldn't see Draco's gaze clearly, but nothing good was ever going to come from him. Instinctively, Harry clutched his wand tighter, even though he was absolutely – more than absolutely – sure that Daphne would easily handle anything that vile bastard could try. More than easily. She would crush him like a cockroach under her boots.
Sitting next to Draco, as always, was Pansy, holding her fiancé's hand. She was also looking at Daphne. And her feelings were written all over her face like the grease in Snape's hair: Loathing and hatred.
Those feelings were also reflected, with less intensity, on the face of Millicent Bulstrode, who sat beside Pansy, faithful footman that she was. And again, with less intensity, or perhaps just more pretence, they were reflected on the face of Tracey Davis, the last of the Slytherin girls and the lowest in the social hierarchy of the House of Snakes, if Daphne was excluded from the equation.
Daphne had told him quite a few things about her half-blood housemate over the past few years, and Harry wondered how the other Slytherins hadn't realised the truth by now. Or maybe they had realised the truth and didn't care. All that mattered was that Davis was submitting to them, for whatever reason. Another reason why this whole group was nothing but a ridiculous charade, a collection of hypocrisy, falsehood and mutual contempt. It was worth less than a lie whispered to the wind, more useless than a contract signed with foul water.
Better to stand alone like he and Daphne, Harry thought, than to rely on such false allies.
Harry scolded himself mentally. His mind had wandered. He looked at the Slytherins again. Yes, as much as one could philosophise about their group, one person who usually sat with them was missing today. Daphne's sister Astoria was nowhere to be seen.
His eyes slid back to the top of the mountain, silhouetted against the grey winter sky. So Astoria was waiting for them up there too. Well, that would certainly make his beloved girlfriend very happy.
"Champions, get ready, we're about to begin!" boomed Bagman's voice. The crowd began to shout, clap and whistle. Harry stretched one last time and got into his starting position. "On three. One ... two ... three!"
A loud gong sounded and Harry started to run.
As soon as the gong sounded, Daphne took off running.
Behind her came the din of the crowd, Bagman's booming voice, even the sound of trumpets and drums, but she not only left it behind her physically, she also banished it from her mind. After all, there was a tournament to win. Or at least one task of the tournament. They wouldn't finish second this time, she would make sure of that.
Running faster than ever in her life, she quickly reached the edge of the artificial mountain, Olympus, as Bagman had called it. How imaginative.
The mountainside was full of loose rocks. But there didn't seem to be a better way, so Daphne hurried on. But when she stepped on a stone, it came loose from under her boot. She stumbled and barely managed to keep her balance.
Daphne clicked her tongue. At the same time, she waved her wand to increase the grip on the soles of her boots. Things got a bit easier after that. Stones kept coming loose and rolling down the slope, and she had to slow down a little, but she made progress without stumbling again. But, she wondered inwardly, when would the first dangers come that they would have to face?
As if on cue, there was a high-pitched hiss above her. The next moment a loud bang was heard. Green smoke rose in front of her, accompanied by a foul stench. Yes, it smelled like a mixture of rotten eggs and rotting toads.
There was a cackling laughter above Daphne's head. She looked up. A dozen Harpies were flying through the sky, doing loops and somersaults and throwing small sacks at her. Stink bombs!
One of the bombs landed just to Daphne's left and another cloud of poisonous green, stinking smoke rose. Daphne felt like she was going to throw up. She covered her face with her sleeve. Something was rumbling inside her.
This was worse than the stink bombs the Weasley twins used when they wanted to play tricks on Slytherins, and they had never dared to try that on Daphne; the two boys really were a lot smarter than most people thought.
There was another high-pitched hiss, followed by a bang, this time to Daphne's right. By now, everything around her seemed to be drowning in the stinking green smoke. And the Harpies' laughter grew louder and more mocking.
Daphne sharpened her magical senses and saw the next bomb, this time aimed directly at her. Instinctively, she waved her wand, she didn't even have to think about it. A brief twitch shot through her left eye as she felt the magic inside her, but she was used to it by now and it only lasted a fraction of a second.
A sudden gust of wind ripped through the air, tearing apart the green clouds and hurling the falling stink bombs away. They hit the ground a hundred metres away, spreading their foul stench. Far enough for Daphne not to have to endure it.
At the same time, her magic wind blew the stench away from that part of the mountain. At last, Daphne could breathe properly again and she filled her lungs with delicious, clear oxygen.
But she did not stop. The very next moment she jerked her wand upwards. She felt her left eye twitch again, this time a little more violently. Then bright flashes shot out of her wand. They shot into the sky, straight at the Harpies, but they dodged the lightning as if they were used to it.
Only one Harpy was a little too slow, and a flash hit her on the side of her wing. She howled. It was too far away, of course, but Daphne imagined the smell of charred flesh and burnt feathers filling the air and took another deep breath. As long as it wasn't burnt crow's wings, she could live with anything.
Bagman's voice came to her as if from afar, growing louder as Daphne focused on it.
"So the champions had their first encounter with the legendary Harpies and their equally legendary Bromos Bombs. But they shouldn't get too comfortable, because their opponents are already preparing for round two. Meanwhile, Krum continues to build his lead. Delacour is not far behind, the grace and elegance with which she moves is truly impressive, she could almost be a mountain goat, only much more attractive. Greengrass, on the other hand, has lost precious time and has only covered a few metres."
Daphne cursed. Indeed, she was still on the edge of the mountain, the stands of jeering spectators still far too close. She could almost see the mockery in their ugly grimaces.
"But – oha! We seem to have a second mountain goat! Potter can't be stopped by rubble or bombs, and – he's laughing! Yes, really, the boy is laughing! Unbelievable!"
At least her beloved boyfriend seemed to be having a good time, Daphne thought, and started running again. How nice for him.
It was just like Quidditch! Dodging the stink bombs was just like dodging the bludgers in a Quidditch match! And it was just as much fun!
Harry laughed as he zigzagged up the mountain. There was always something exploding to his left, his right, behind him or in front of him, but never where he was. And if one of the Harpies aimed too precisely, he would simply wave his wand and hurl the bomb back into the grey winter sky, where it would explode in a rain of colourful sparks, thanks to his magic.
Not quite Quidditch, perhaps, as he would have been thrown off the pitch for something like that, but that made it all the better. How he would have loved to use his wand to knock the Slytherin beaters off their brooms!
The landscape around him looked like something out of a war film, a grey, barren wasteland drowning in poisonous green smoke. And it stank so badly that he wouldn't have been surprised if there had been rotting corpses lying somewhere in the smoke. It was perhaps the only thing that wasn't so nice about his current situation.
Harry's heart was beating wildly in his chest, but it was a pleasant, lively beat. He quickened his pace even more. All the while, he kept his eyes on the sky, where the Harpies were circling menacingly.
Bagman's voice came to him as if from afar. "Oh, that must have hurt! But Mr Krum is already on his feet again. Meanwhile, Potter is running faster and faster, as if trying to set a new world record. He keeps looking up – perhaps he should keep his eyes on the ground to avoid the dangerous beasts!"
Wait, dangerous what?
Harry stopped in his tracks as the ground suddenly shook in front of him. A huge rumbling sound, as if from the depths of hell, grew louder and louder. Rocks and dust were thrown up and mixed with the greenish cloud. Harry coughed and put his sleeve over his mouth.
The next thing he knew, the ground opened up in front of him. Before he could react, a huge, dark figure had risen and let out a terrible hiss. It was a sound Harry had heard before.
Shocked, he stared into the yellowish eyes of a basilisk.
A hot and cold stabbing sensation ran through Daphne's body, simultaneously and alternately and wildly, all at the same time. It was as if her insides were being pierced by a spear of fire and ice. Her hair stood on end, followed by her inner crow feathers.
There could only be one reason for this!
Daphne whirled around to run to Harry as fast as she could – when out of nowhere a dark figure appeared in front of her. She jumped, but she was too slow.
Horrified, she stared at the Dementor's mouth directly above hers.
Harry reacted instinctively. He jerked his wand upwards and there was a deafening bang, followed by splinters of wood flying in all directions.
Wait – wood?!
Indeed, all that was left of the menacing basilisk before him were splinters and shavings in the wind. It had been a dummy.
A bloody dummy!
Harry felt a burning ember rise inside him. A bloody fucking dummy! Something so ... trivial had frightened him and probably scared the hell out of Daphne. He knew what she was like. How worried she got when she thought he was in danger. It hurt him every time.
With an angry roar, he let out his rage, letting the burning embers inside him out into the open. His left eye twitched, then a huge jet of fire shot out of his wand and enveloped the remains of the false basilisk. It wasn't Fiendfyre, but it wasn't far off. In a fraction of a second, all that remained of the wood was black ash, and even that was soon consumed in the rage of the flames.
Harry wiped his face. It was wet with sweat. A bloody taste had settled on his tongue and he swallowed hard.
He was feeling better. But there was still a task to win. So he started running again.
"Wow, the temper of youth!" Bagman's voice reached him from somewhere behind him. "Good thing Potter didn't burn his fingers. Looks like nobody ever taught him not to play with fire."
Asshole, Harry thought.
Daphne clicked her tongue contemptuously as she left the destroyed Dementor dummy behind. She could still feel the heat of the hungry flames on her back, consuming wood and stone alike.
Really, how childish.
And Harry seemed even more annoyed by this charade than she was, if his feelings she had picked up through their bond were any indication. Thank Morgana he hadn't been confronted with the fake Dementor, because the mountain probably wouldn't have survived that. And that would have looked really bad... the hostages that had to be rescued killed in a fit of rage, albeit a justified one.
Besides... Astoria, for all her faults, didn't deserve that either. Many things, but not this.
Unless she didn't break away from Malfoy and their parents before it was too late. Then Daphne would kill her herself. That would teach her a lesson and she would think twice about upsetting her older sister next time.
Daphne almost laughed at the thought.
With quick steps she ran up the mountain as fast as she could. Now she also knew that she shouldn't just look up, but also at the ground in front of her. But right now, the biggest danger seemed to come from above.
A dozen Harpies were still circling the sky like vultures. They held new bombs in their claws, this time even bigger than before. They were the size of Daphne's entire upper body and decorated with small skulls.
At the same time, the Harpies dropped their bombs. They fell to the ground with a hissing sound, right where Daphne was standing. At the same moment, Daphne made an elegant movement with her wand.
The air above her rippled, and a large, slightly transparent golden hemisphere appeared above her head. The bombs hit the hemisphere and ricocheted off it with a bright, gong-like sound. They were hurled back into the sky, where they disappeared in green explosions.
Yes, the Harpies could try to get through this for a long time, Daphne thought. At least with their wretched bombs. It would take stronger means to overcome her magic. Much, much stronger!
Determined, Daphne quickened her pace.
Suddenly, a huge stone wall rose from the ground in front of her. A truly insurmountable obstacle. But Daphne just waved her wand. A small sphere detached itself from the golden shield above her head and shot like a cannonball towards the wall. And just like a cannonball, the sphere smashed through the wall, which collapsed with a loud crash.
With the help of some magic, Daphne leapt over the remaining pile of rubble and landed a few metres behind it on the ground, which continued to rise steeply.
She was much warmer by now. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she didn't stop or slow down. Resting was for losers, for lazy scavengers and the like, not for proud hunters like crows.
Daphne's gaze travelled to the top of the mountain, which, despite her fast run, seemed far away.
Harry had grown noticeably warmer. A light sweat ran down his back. He was still running as fast as he could up the mountain, which wasn't easy as the ground was uneven and full of rubble. He had to take each step very carefully to avoid slipping.
At least there was now a pleasant breeze blowing towards him from above. It came from the little tornado he had conjured up, which now hovered several metres above him and moved with him, hurling any bombs the Harpies tried to drop on him far away. This had been one of his better ideas, Harry thought in all modesty.
If he listened carefully, he could still hear the shouts of the crowd behind him, but they were drowned out by the pounding of his own heart. He squinted at the top of the mountain. It was still a long way off, but he felt he had already covered a third of the distance.
How much of the hour had already passed? He should have brought a watch. Maybe he should cast a spell to check the –
Suddenly Harry kicked his foot into the void. His eyes widened. In an instant, a huge hole had appeared in the ground in front of him! The hole was several metres deep and there were long, pointed wooden stakes sticking out of the ground. A deadly trap.
Harry staggered, flailing his arms, but it was too late. He fell forward, straight into the hole.
At the same moment, his wand whizzed through the air. He didn't even have to think about it, the hours of training with Daphne had taken effect.
Carpe Rectractum!
His spell hit a large boulder at the edge of the hole. Then a jolt went through his body, just before he was pierced by the wooden stakes. He was torn upwards, out of the hole, straight at the boulder, landing safely on his feet.
Harry gasped for breath. He'd barely made it. This could have really gone wrong.
He was just about to keep running when the ground began to shake. The shaking got stronger and stronger. Harry had to hold on to the rocks to keep from being knocked over.
The shaking was coming from further up the mountain. Harry's eyes widened as he saw a huge avalanche of earth and rubble coming straight at him, burying everything under it.
Really?
Daphne felt a quake, but it seemed far away, on the other side of the mountain, so she ignored it. Especially as she had enough quakes above her head.
By now, the bombs were thundering incessantly at her golden shield, and not only that. The Harpies were now shooting at her with arrows, spears, stones and even a few axes and swords. From time to time, one of the winged creatures would even swoop down to attack her with claws and talons. But all weapons and attackers bounced off her shield like waves off a cliff.
Daphne stifled a laugh. Magic was power, and she was the most powerful far and wide, certainly more powerful than those stupid Harpies. And that was why she would win.
On and on she ran up the mountain. By now she had found something of a rhythm.
Magic dummies – she burned them as if they were made of straw.
A wall that suddenly appeared – nothing an explosion spell couldn't remove.
A hole in the ground with deadly stakes – her magic carried her safely across.
And so it went on and on. The obstacles repeated themselves, but they could no longer stop Daphne. And she got closer and closer to the top. She was halfway there.
Daphne was already imagining how all the judges would give her ten points this time, including bloody Karkaroff and that bastard Fudge, when she heard voices above her. The bombardment had stopped.
"Oiii, you look like a tough one," a Harpy with matted brown hair and wings of the same colour called out to her, flying close above her shield. "Trying to prove something, eh?"
"Of course she is," another Harpy shouted. Unlike her companion, she had feathers instead of hair on her head. "I mean, look at her. So small and weak. She's not really a witch. A witchlet, maybe."
"Yeah, a witchlet," a third Harpy cackled. "Just a witchlet. A wee witch. Like a little baby."
Now all the Harpies began to laugh shrilly, not just the three of them, but the whole swarm. Their voices hurt Daphne's ears. She clicked her tongue. Just keep running. Don't get distracted.
"Oh, look how grumpy she looks. Have we hit a sore spot?"
"Smile, little one. Can you do that, smile? Come on, smile for us!"
"Yes! Smile, smile, smile!"
All the Harpies screamed together now, like a terrible choir, the most terrible ever. Their voices were shrill and crooked and loud and shrill.
"Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! Smi–"
Daphne had had enough. She jerked her head up and shouted, "I'll smile when I win! If there's anything left of you to see it then!"
"Oh, she's threatening us!" a Harpy shouted with glee, somersaulting in the air as if in celebration. "She threatens us! She's so cute, isn't she?"
"Yes, so cute! Like a little dog barking at you. Woof, woof!"
Now the other Harpies joined in.
"Woof, woof, woof!"
"Bark, bark, bark!"
"Wuff, wuff, wuff!"
"Oh, she's such a bad dog! We should punish her!"
"Nah, she's been punished enough. I mean, look at her."
"So little."
"So skinny."
"So ugly."
"So weak! Yes, do you hear us, little witchlet? You're weak!"
A Harpy flew so close to Daphne's shield that she felt the breeze on her face. It reeked of filthy bird. Daphne breathed through her mouth.
"Much too weak to pass the task! Much weaker than the others. The others are much further along. Especially the other girl."
"The pretty girl!"
"She'll win and you'll lose, little witchlet."
Daphne gritted her teeth. These bloody Harpies were really starting to get on her nerves. And her shallow breathing was taking its toll. She got a side stitch.
"And you'll never see your little sister again! We'll take her with us!"
"But I don't think she likes you anyway. That's what she told us. She didn't want anything to do with you."
"Until we gave her the Galleons. Then she couldn't agree fast enough. How pathetic."
"She said it was for her parents. How pathetic do parents have to be for their children to sell themselves?"
"Is that why you look so ugly? Because you're poor?"
"Is that why your sister doesn't like you?"
"Is that why you try so hard? The little witch wants to prove it to the world?"
"You're so cute, little one! Pathetic and weak and ugly, but cute! Would you like to be our pet? We'd take good care of you, we promise. Woof, woof!"
Again, cackling laughter came from the sky. Again, the Harpies shot through the air directly above the magic shield. Again their stench assaulted Daphne's nose.
"We'll even give you some pocket money. You can send it to your pathetic parents."
"All you have to do is say yes and you can be our pet. I'm sure we can also find a handsome wizard somewhere for you to mate with."
"Or one as ugly as you!"
"Come on, little witch, say something! Stop running away and talk to us. Your efforts are in vain anyway."
"That's right, you'll never get there in time. You'll never make it."
"You're much too slow."
"Much, much too slow."
"You're just a weak little witchlet. A nobody. A weak, pathetic –"
The anger had continued to swell inside Daphne, like a spark eating through dry wood. With every cursed word from the Harpies, with every mocking laugh, with every insult, it had grown like the fire of a funeral pyre, consuming everything in its path. Each second the fire had grown bigger, hotter, more dangerous.
Only the dry wood was Daphne's mind, her soul, and the burning pyre what was left of her self-control.
She paused in her run and, with one powerful movement, jerked her wand upwards, straight at the flying, still laughing Harpies.
She would show them!
Harry felt as if he were standing on a railway platform and a train was rushing past him.
Only it wasn't a train, it was an avalanche of earth and rock, and he wasn't standing on a platform, he was standing on the side of a mountain, surrounded by a cocoon of flowing air.
This cocoon, created by his magic, protected him from the masses of earth. His cocoon was the rock in the storm. But it was a pitch-black rock, for the avalanche of debris rolled to his left and right and above him. No light reached him, no glimmer of the outside world.
How much longer would this avalanche last, Harry wondered. He felt as if he had been standing here for an eternity. He stifled a yawn.
He really should have brought a watch...
In fact, Harry was about to close his eyes and take a nap when he suddenly felt a piercing sensation of heat run through him. It was as if someone had set his blood on fire. Only it didn't hurt. No, it felt... liberating. A wonderful, sublime feeling.
A smile formed on Harry's lips. There could only be one reason for such a feeling.
And he was wasting his time here! How unbearable!
He waved his wand and at the same time felt for his Impetus, that reactor of incomparable power inside him, which also felt pleasantly warm. He found it at once. It was easier than adjusting his glasses in the dark.
It was almost as if the power was feeling for him too. Harry wouldn't be surprised if it was. The power inside him was thirsty, he could feel it clearly. Thirsty to be unleashed. It strained against his control like a dog on a leash, begging to go hunt its prey.
He would give it at least a little.
Harry made a circular motion with his wand, and at the same time the air around his feet began to swirl. The vortex grew stronger and stronger until it finally lifted him off the ground. But that was only the beginning.
Harry raised his wand. The cocoon around him was hurled in all directions, along with earth, stones, dirt and debris, accompanied by a thunderous rumble. The air beneath his feet catapulted him into the air before the avalanche could engulf him.
Harry was now suspended several metres above the ground, carried by a small whirlwind beneath his feet. But his footing was as secure as if he were standing on the firmest of ground.
It took him no more effort to maintain the spell than it did to breathe. And that was just as well, for his eyes and attention were elsewhere.
Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, so dark that they were almost black. They were the darkest storm clouds he had ever seen. They swallowed up all the light from the distant winter sun, which could no longer be seen through the clouds.
The only light now came from the lightning that flashed from the cloud cover, accompanied by the mighty rumble of thunder. Every flash of lightning, every peal of thunder sent a shiver down Harry's spine. At last, this ridiculous mountain was living up to its name. Now it really was as if Zeus was hurling his lightning bolts to unleash his wrath.
The smile on Harry's lips grew even wider. For he knew full well that this was not the work of a god. No, this was the work of someone far more powerful. And someone much, much more attractive.
A smile played on Daphne's lips as she felt the power coursing through her body, from her heart, through her arms and into her wand. The black ebony vibrated as if it too was rejoicing. Yes, it felt simply wonderful, Daphne thought, and liberating and utterly sublime. All the power of magic was in her hands!
Her insides were vibrating too, like the purr of a cat. It was her Impetus, Daphne knew. She felt its thirst, its burning desire to unleash its power; but its thirst was nothing compared to her own, which had filled her since childhood. And in that moment, she took a strong, delicious drink.
Above Daphne, the stupid Harpies screamed in panic, all their cackling laughter suddenly forgotten. Now it was Daphne who laughed, but her laughter was drowned out by a deafening thunder that shook the air. This must be paradise, Daphne thought contentedly.
But she couldn't linger too long in her joy. It was time to combine the pleasant with the useful and finally put an end to this charade.
Daphne altered the flow of her magic slightly. A cold sensation ran through her arm, her left eye twitched and a black mist billowed from the tip of her wand. The mist enveloped her like a cold cloak. But that was only the beginning. The mist spread around her in an instant, in all directions, forwards, backwards, left, right and upwards.
Wherever the black mist spread, it swallowed up all the light left by the magical storm clouds, even the bright flashes in the sky. The darkness of the mist was truly impenetrable, just what Daphne needed.
The mist covered the whole mountain like a dark shroud. It also seemed to swallow all sound, for Daphne could hear nothing. Neither the shaking of the earth nor the thunder in the air, neither the terrified cries of the Harpies nor the distant shouts of Bagman and the spectators. There was only darkness and silence.
The perfect curtain to hide her secret.
Daphne lowered her wand. At the same moment, she felt for the magic within her, not for the Impetus, but for her Spirit Within. It was the easiest exercise in the world for her, as many times as she had done it.
And then she transformed.
The moment was as liberating as ever, as if the heavy chains that had held her up until then had fallen away. As if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, as if she was breaking out of a cage to conquer the big wide world. How fitting.
Daphne's beak opened in a very human smile as she soared into the dark sky in her crow form.
Harry laughed with joy and transformed as well. His black hair turned to even blacker feathers, his feet to claws, his arms to wings. His laughter gave way to a happy croak.
Then he flew through the darkness of the magic mist. He couldn't see ten wing-lengths away, but he didn't need to to find his target. His mate's aura shone in the darkness like a golden lighthouse in the night. And he would always find her, even with his eyes closed.
He called to her. "Caw, caw, caw!"
"Caw?"
Daphne turned to face him as he came towards her, and he could see her fully now. Her pitch-black feathers stood out even against the magical darkness around her, and her eyes even more so. They were two different colours, one golden and one green, a dichotomy no doubt reflected in his own crow's face at this moment.
Harry had never thought it possible for a bird to look so beautiful. And so perfectly content with herself.
"Caw!" he croaked to her. "Weren't we going to hold back, Princess?"
Daphne's beak made a movement that reminded him of a tongue clicking. "I didn't have the patience. And the stupid beasts were getting on my nerves."
"And now what?"
"Now we finish it!"
With that, Daphne flapped her wings vigorously and flew upwards, towards the top of the mountain, hidden in the dark. Harry followed her. They flew wing to wing.
It was still very dark around them, and very still; only the air was almost crackling with magic. It was a magic Harry knew only too well. He opened his beak, tasted the blood and swallowed. A hot sensation ran through his veins.
They could make out several figures in the air, flying around disorientated. The Harpies couldn't see them though, so Harry and Daphne simply flew past them. The Harpies didn't even seem to notice. And such wretched creatures wanted to share the skies with them? They didn't deserve their wings, Harry thought.
Finally they reached the top of the mountain. It was a flat plain of grey stone, about half the size of the entrance hall at Hogwarts. In the centre were four wooden posts, each with an unconscious figure tied to it.
It was as Harry had suspected. Ron was hanging from the pole on the far left, with Astoria next to him. Next to her hung a little girl with waist-length silver-blonde hair, blowing slightly in the wind. Harry had never seen the girl before, but she looked so much like their rival from France that he had no doubt who the hostage belonged to. Finally, hanging on the far right was a boy, a few years older than them, whom he had already seen in the Durmstrang delegation.
Harry and Daphne landed in front of the hostages and returned to their human form. Suddenly everything felt uncomfortably heavy to Harry again, but that feeling wasn't new either. He arched his back and raised his wand.
Two purple bolts flashed through the air, cutting through the ropes holding Ron and Astoria to their wooden posts. They collapsed like two lifeless dolls, but Harry cast another spell. The spell made them float in the air as if they were sleeping on an invisible bed.
He looked at Daphne. "Now we just have to bring them down. To win."
"Nothing easier than that."
Daphne made a slow, elegant motion with her wand and the air began to crackle with magic again. Again Harry felt the familiar taste of Daphne's blood on his tongue and again he swallowed, absorbing the taste like a delicious potion. The corners of Daphne's mouth twisted as she saw this, but she didn't break her spell for a moment.
The air before them began to shimmer, and then it changed. It became thicker, more solid, more physical. Shadowy outlines began to form, but they quickly became more detailed, and a heartbeat later, Daphne's incantation was complete.
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he saw the result.
In front of them was a huge sleigh, even bigger than the magnificent carriages of Hogwarts. It appeared to be made of wood, but the wood was painted a warm red that immediately evoked the cosy warmth of a fireplace. The surface was richly decorated with intricate greenish ornaments. Small shiny silver and gold bells adorned the edges, ringing softly with every movement of the wind.
The sleigh was reminiscent of the magnificent illustrations of Santa's sleigh that Harry had seen in picture books. Only it wasn't pulled by reindeer. Daphne hadn't conjured them up.
"Excellent work," Harry said, guiding the still unconscious Ron and Astoria onto the back of the sleigh. They came to rest on it with a soft thud. "How do we get it down?"
"Well, you're going to drive it, of course."
"Is that so? And how did you imagine that? If I remember correctly, I've never done anything like this before."
Daphne made a casual gesture with her hand. "The sleigh was created by my magic. Imagine driving me, my love. Or trying to tame me." She gave him a suggestive smile.
Harry had no idea how she always managed to do that after all they had done together – including much, much more suggestive things than this – but he felt his cheeks warm at her words.
He cleared his throat. "Okay, okay. Enough talking. Let's do this." He gestured to the sleigh. "After you, milady."
Daphne's eyes twinkled with amusement. "What a gentleman you are, milord."
Harry helped her onto the seat at the front of the sleigh, then sat down beside her. There was no wheel, no steering, no reins, nothing. He just stared at the mountainside in front of him, which disappeared in the dark mist after a few steps. But he had to at least get the sleigh moving so they could get down here.
And so he just thought: Go?
A jolt went through the sleigh. The wood creaked, the bells rang louder, Harry clung to the seat – and then the sleigh shot forward with a jerk.
The runners slid over the scree, and faster than he could have ever imagined, they hurtled down the mountain. In a split second, the mountaintop disappeared behind them.
They were shaken to the core. Harry's jaws clanged with every impact of the runners on the stony ground. Behind them, the bodies of their hostages banged against the walls of the sleigh; perhaps they should have tied them down.
Beside him, Daphne laughed out loud, a sound of pure, unbridled joy. Her silky black hair whipped around her face, dancing in the wind like a living flame. At that moment, she looked like an ancient goddess of war, ready to ride into battle.
It would have been a very one-sided battle. The sleigh raced down the mountain, unstoppable like an avalanche. Every bump in the terrain was rolled over, no obstacle could harm the magical vehicle.
When a Dementor dummy appeared in front of them, Harry's hand instinctively reached for his wand, but before he could use it, the sleigh crashed into the figure. The wood splintered and the dummy's shreds of cloth were thrown in all directions.
They continued through a thicket of thorns, which bounced ineffectually against the sleigh's magical barrier. A small tree stood in their way, but it too was flattened in a cloud of splinters and shredded leaves, as was a huge wall of large stones. They simply shot through the wall, stones flying in all directions, but they barely felt a shudder. Their speed remained unchanged and no craters marked the surface of the sleigh.
"We're unstoppable!" shouted Daphne enthusiastically against the roaring wind.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the dark mist. It was Fleur Delacour, and she looked as if the task had taken its toll. Her silver-blonde hair was caked with mud and dust, her clothes torn and blood-stained, her face full of scratches and scrapes.
Delacour's eyes widened in horror as she saw the speeding sleigh coming towards her. With a desperate leap, she barely managed to avoid being run over.
Daphne giggled as they left their rival far behind. By now the slope was levelling out and the speed of the sleigh was slowing down a little, but they were still gliding along at breath-taking speed.
Suddenly, Ludo Bagman's voice reached them as if someone had turned up the radio.
"... that noise? And... Is it getting closer? What –"
With a jolt, their sleigh broke through the dark mist that had settled over the mountain like a veil. Suddenly, everything around them was colourful again. The stands appeared before them, full to bursting with astonished spectators. The colourful flags, banners and scarves waved in the wind, but nothing else moved. All eyes were on them, still racing towards the stands at breakneck speed.
Harry focused all his senses on slowing the sleigh. He clenched his teeth and braced his feet against the creaking wood. Every muscle in his body tensed, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Beside him, Daphne's manicured fingernails dug painfully into his hand, but he didn't let go, even drawing strength from the pain, just as his partner had taught him all those years ago.
The wood cracked and creaked under the pressure and slowly, very slowly, the sleigh lost speed. The raised platform with the judges' table appeared in front of them. Harry saw the worried faces of the judges, their eyes wide.
"Almost there..." Harry muttered, his eyes fixed on the finish line.
With one last strong push against the wood, he managed to slow the sleigh down even further; but the sleigh hadn't come to a complete stop yet, and so they finally crashed into the judges' platform. The impact was violent, the platform shook alarmingly and a scream went through the crowd.
Harry's heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel it pounding in his ears. He inhaled and exhaled heavily. Then he looked at Daphne, who was brushing her black hair from her face with her right hand. Her left hand was still clutching his, but an amused smile played around her lips.
"Well, that was bumpy," she said, "I guess I'm harder to steer than I thought."
Harry just rolled his eyes. If there was one person that nothing and no one could steer or tame, it was his beloved girlfriend. But he was glad, because it was the only way they would get to the top and achieve their big goals.
But first they had to reach their goals at the bottom, at the foot of Mount Olympus.
Together, Harry and Daphne looked up at the judges, who were just beginning to recover from the shock and regain their composure. The noise around them grew louder.
"I think we've won," Harry called to the judges.
Dumbledore was the first to regain his composure. He smiled down at them both, which only made his face look more furrowed. It seemed to have wrinkled even more in the last few weeks. Harry just hoped that Dumbledore would succeed in his mental battle against Voldemort before he simply dropped dead of exhaustion. He wouldn't be able to shirk his reckoning that easily…
"Not quite yet," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "First you must return your hostages safely."
At that moment, there was a groan from the back of the sleigh. Harry looked behind him and saw that Ron and Astoria had come out of unconsciousness.
They were slowly sitting up, clearly confused. They shook their heads dazedly and seemed to be slow to realise where they were. And the wild descent had left its mark on them. Ron was rubbing his chest and blood was dripping from Astoria's forehead. They both looked miserable, but Ron a little less so, and so it was the Gryffindor who spoke first.
"What..." he muttered and looked around. His eyes found Harry looking at him from the bench and a grin immediately spread across his face. "Harry... you did it, didn't you? You finished the task!"
Harry returned the grin. "Of course I did! Can you walk? You still have to get down."
"I think so, I'm just a bit dazed..."
With that, Ron stood up completely. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he managed to get out of the sleigh without falling over. Hermione was waiting for him there, and after a reprimanding look in the direction of Harry and Daphne, she led him to the medical tent.
"And so Potter's hostage is the first to return safely!" Bagman's voice shouted over the roars and cheers of the crowd. "After only twenty-seven minutes and a truly incredible finale!"
Daphne clicked her tongue as she stepped onto the back of the sleigh and over to Astoria. Her sister was still sitting on the wooden floor, shaking her head dazedly. The dark red blood on her forehead contrasted sharply with her pale skin, which was even paler than usual at this moment. She really did look battered, Harry thought, remembering that she was only twelve years old. Maybe they should have been a little more careful with her...
His girlfriend, on the other hand, didn't seem to share his scruples. Daphne's voice sounded slightly annoyed and more than a little impatient as she asked, "Can you walk?"
"Do I look like it?" Astoria hissed back. Her voice was surprisingly loud. And sharp. "I'm injured, in case you hadn't noticed!"
"Just a little scratch. Hold still."
Daphne bent down and put her hand on Astoria's forehead. Astoria flinched. Her body froze. But after a moment, Daphne stood up again. She wiped her hand on her black and silver robe, her eyes still fixed on her sister.
The wound on Astoria's forehead was gone. Only a little dried blood remained, slowly separating from the pale skin. It almost seemed as if there had never been a wound.
But Astoria's eyes had gone wide. She looked up at Daphne, and for the first time since Harry had known the girl, he saw something in her gaze other than hostility and anger towards her sister. She looked... stunned.
"What?" asked Daphne, her voice full of impatience again. "Can you leave now?"
"It's... your magic, it..." Astoria stuttered softly, so that no one else could hear her. Then a sudden jolt passed through her body. She rose from the bottom of the sleigh and climbed out as quickly as she could, albeit on slightly wobbly legs like Ron. Her feet landed on the ground with a soft thud.
"And Greengrass' hostage is the second to return safely!" Bagman's voice rang out. "So Team Hog-warts, consisting of a young wizard and a young witch, but officially recognised as a single champion, is victorious in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament! Although they still have to explain to us what exactly they were doing on the mountain. And most importantly, the charming Miss Greengrass has yet to tell us what kind of magic she used! Boy, the fog still seems impenetrable. If it doesn't clear soon, we'll have to send out search parties to find the other two champions..."
Harry stopped listening to Bagman's words. He followed Daphne's gaze as it focused on her departing sister. There was a thoughtful expression in Daphne's eyes, which were both golden again.
He also looked at Astoria. She still seemed a little unsteady on her feet and almost stumbled a little, but someone from the stands came to her aid and supported her. It was Tracey Davis, and together the two witches made their way to the medical tent.
On the way, they whispered animatedly to each other.
Eventually, Daphne's magic mist had lifted and Krum and Delacour had returned with their hostages, albeit well past the one-hour time limit and both in an exhausted state.
Once again, Harry and Daphne's points were divided by two, but this time even the spiteful Karkaroff could not prevent them from emerging victorious from the task, even if he only gave them two points each because "nothing could be seen" of their hostage rescue.
As if they hadn't performed magic of the most impressive kind, especially Daphne! Harry had to pull himself together not to pull out his wand and show the Durmstrang headmaster exactly what he thought of him. And how pathetic his cries of pain would sound.
The Harpies seemed furious that they had humiliated them like that, or so Harry got from their screams and wild insults, but Dumbledore assured them that the tournament organisers would take care of it. And Fudge assured them that their behaviour would not cause any international uproar this time, as the Harpies were not particularly popular in their home country either. Harry didn't really care, but he nodded politely.
It was some time later that Harry and Daphne finally walked along the edge of the forest. The winter sun was slowly setting on the horizon, turning the landscape a deep orange. Most of the students had already returned to the castle – the Gryffindors were preparing a wild party and had even invited Daphne to join them – but the young couple needed some peace and time to themselves first.
Daphne's hand was in his, her soft fingers caressing his. Eventually she began to giggle softly. Harry loved that sound, especially knowing he was the only person in the world allowed to hear it.
"Her life power was almost as sweet as yours, by the way," Daphne said.
"What do you mean?"
"Astoria."
"You took something from her?"
Daphne shook her head, a strand of black hair falling into her face. She brushed it away nonchalantly. "Just a little. It wasn't on purpose, more a side effect of the healing."
"And it was delicious?" Harry asked, a little amused. He couldn't believe they were actually talking about something like that.
"What, are you jealous?"
"Why would I be jealous of anything when I can do this?"
With that he leaned over and kissed her, one arm pressing her against him. Daphne's soft lips parted willingly to his mouth, her body arching against his, and she reached a hand up to rake her black-painted nails through his hair, evidently delighted.
Yes, why should he be jealous of anything? He had won the task, he was holding the witch he loved in his arms, and together they would bring the world to its knees, of that he was absolutely certain. Today had been just an intermediate step, albeit an enjoyable one, but their truly great moments were yet to come.
The names Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass would go down in history, he was sure of it. They would make sure of that!