Harry Wayne and the Batman of Hogwarts
Chapter 35-The Dementor of Durmstrang
The day after the harrowing events at the Black Lake, Harry decided to speak with Dumbledore. The memory of Viktor Zsasz trying to kill Harvey weighed heavily on his mind, and the unsettling realization that Ivy from Slytherin had interfered in the task couldn't be ignored.
Harry knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office, and the headmaster's familiar voice invited him inside. As Harry entered, Dumbledore looked up from a parchment, his expression calm but curious.
"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, gesturing for him to sit. "What brings you here?"
Harry sat down, his voice firm. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the Black Lake. Viktor Zsasz tried to kill Harvey. And I think Ivy from Slytherin is involved somehow. She trapped me twice—once in the Forbidden Forest and again underwater during the second task."
Dumbledore's expression grew serious. "That is troubling indeed," he said. "I have been investigating their absence. Both Viktor and Ivy have been missing since the events of the second task. We are searching for them, but as of now, we do not know where they are."
Harry's jaw tightened. "Something's going on. This isn't just about the tournament anymore."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his piercing gaze meeting Harry's. "You may be correct, Harry. The Triwizard Tournament is no stranger to dangers, but these recent events suggest a darker influence at play. I assure you, I will not rest until I understand what has transpired."
Harry nodded, somewhat reassured. "And what about the next round?"
Dumbledore's expression softened slightly. "The third and final task won't take place for a few weeks. The Quidditch pitch is being prepared as we speak."
"Prepared for what?" Harry asked, confused.
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Hagrid is overseeing the preparations. Perhaps you should visit him if you're curious. Just don't mention it to anyone that I told you."
Curiosity sparked, Harry left Dumbledore's office and made his way to Hagrid's hut. As he knocked on the door, Hagrid's booming voice called out, "C'mon in, Harry!"
Inside, Hagrid greeted him warmly. "What brings yeh here?"
"Dumbledore said you're preparing the Quidditch pitch for the next task," Harry said. "What's going on?"
Hagrid hesitated, scratching his beard. "I'm not supposed to say nothin', but... I reckon you oughta see it for yourself."
He led Harry to the Quidditch pitch, where towering hedges now stood in place of the open field. Harry stared in disbelief as the vast maze loomed before him.
"A maze?" he asked.
"Yeh," Hagrid said. "The final task. Champions'll have to navigate it to find the Triwizard Cup."
Harry felt a pang of sadness as he looked at the transformed pitch, remembering the excitement of Quidditch matches played there. "It doesn't even look like the same place," he muttered.
"Don't worry," Hagrid said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Soon as the tournament's over, we'll have it back to normal in no time."
As they walked, Harry began talking about the rescue mission, sharing his concerns about Ivy and Viktor. Hagrid listened intently, then said, "There's somethin' about Viktor you might not know, Harry. A story from Durmstrang."
"A story?"
Hagrid nodded solemnly. "Not even a year ago, a Dementor got into Durmstrang. It killed twelve students—all of 'em on the Quidditch team. Viktor would've been the thirteenth if not for Barty Strange Jr."
Harry's curiosity deepened. "What happened?"
"The Quidditch team apparently made a deal with the Dementors for powers to win the championship. But when it came time to pay, none of 'em were willin' to sacrifice their soul. That's when the Dementor came after 'em in their sleep, takin' revenge one by one."
"And Barty Strange Jr.?" Harry asked.
"He was locked up at Durmstrang for his ties to Ra's al Ghul," Hagrid explained. "But he managed to escape and save Viktor just in time, drivin' the Dementor away. The school council said he redeemed himself, and for his act of bravery, they gave him a high seat."
"Why hasn't anyone else heard about what happened at the school?" Harry continued asking.
"Durmstrang is a very private school—delving deep into the dark arts," Hagrid replied. "They don't even let their students know where it's located—sayin' that the memory of its whereabouts is erased from their minds when they leave."
The story left Harry unsettled, but there was no time to dwell. Days turned into a week with still no sign of Viktor or Ivy—until one day, Harry and Harvey were summoned to Dumbledore's office.
Inside, they found Viktor and Ivy, both looking pale and exhausted.
Dumbledore explained, "They've been found near the Forbidden Forest, both under the influence of a Dementor's spell. The same one Viktor encountered at Durmstrang less than a year ago. The Dementor left what we call 'printings' on them, marking their minds and actions."
Viktor looked at Harry and Harvey, his voice heavy with regret. "I am sorry. For what happened in the lake. I did not know what I was doing."
At first, Harry didn't believe him, but Dumbledore's assurance convinced him otherwise. Reluctantly, Harry forgave Viktor and Ivy, though the unease lingered.
Later that day, Dumbledore gathered Harry, Viktor, Jervis, and Waylon at the Quidditch pitch. Standing before the maze, he explained, "The final task is simple in concept: navigate the maze and retrieve the Triwizard Cup at its center. But beware, the maze is enchanted and full of challenges.
"As Viktor, Harry, and Jervis are tied for first place, they will enter first, followed by Waylon. Rest well tonight, champions. Tomorrow will test not only your abilities but your courage."
As Harry gazed at the daunting maze, he couldn't shake the feeling that the dangers of the tournament were far from over.
Later that night, Harry sat on the edge of his bed with Harvey, discussing the upcoming final task. The maze loomed in their minds, but their conversation shifted to Viktor and Ivy.
"I just don't buy it," Harry said, shaking his head. "The idea of a Dementor controlling them? And that story Hagrid told me about Durmstrang—it doesn't add up."
"What doesn't?" Harvey asked, flipping his two-sided coin idly between his fingers.
"Hagrid said a Dementor killed twelve Quidditch players, but something about it feels...off. Like there's more to the story."
Harvey nodded thoughtfully, but before he could respond, Harry stiffened. A sudden, inexplicable sensation washed over him—a gut feeling that something was wrong with Hermione.
He stood abruptly, grabbing his Cloak of Shadows and the Belt of Chiroptera. "Something's not right with Hermione. Stay here, Harvey."
"Stay here?" Harvey frowned. "What if you need backup?"
"It might be dangerous," Harry insisted.
Harvey hesitated, flipping his coin. The result made him sigh. "Fine. But you better not get yourself killed."
With that, Harry donned the cloak and belt, vanishing into the shadows as he hurried to Hermione's room.
When he arrived, the room was dark and eerily quiet. Hermione wasn't there. Instead, a faint green glow illuminated the space—a single candle burning on her desk. Standing beside it was Viktor, his grin menacing and unnatural.
"Where is she?" Harry demanded, his voice low but filled with fury. "WHERE'S HERMIONE?" he growled.
"She is safe," Viktor replied smoothly, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "For now. That is, as long as you do exactly as I say."
Harry's anger boiled over. Without hesitation, he activated the Belt of Chiroptera. Shadows swirled around him as his form transformed, his eyes glowing a piercing yellow, his body taking on bat-like features.
In a flash, Harry crossed the room, grabbing Viktor by the throat and lifting him off the ground. Viktor gasped but maintained his smirk, even as Harry's grip tightened.
As he held Viktor, Harry's eyes locked onto the scars on Viktor's upper right arm—twelve precise marks. On his left arm was a tattoo, one Harry recognized immediately: the skull and serpent—the Mark of a Death Eater.
A chilling realization struck Harry. "There was no Dementor at Durmstrang," he snarled. "You killed the Quidditch team, didn't you?"
Viktor's grin widened. "Clever boy," he hissed. "Yes, I killed them. One of them fancied Hermione, you see. I couldn't have that. So, I made it look like something else. Not to mention, they were all going to throw their names into the Goblet of Fire. I couldn't take the chance of one of them getting the spot I deserved."
The pieces began to click in Harry's mind, but one part still eluded him. "And Barty Strange Jr.?"
Just then, the door creaked open, and Barty stepped inside, his smile as wicked as Viktor's. "I helped him," Barty admitted. "Viktor freed me from my cell. Together, we made it convincing enough for the council to believe the story. The fools even gave me a seat on the high council," he mocked.
Harry's glowing eyes narrowed, his grip on Viktor's throat tightening. "Where. Is. Hermione?"
"She's safe...for now," Viktor said, his voice straining. "But if you want her to stay that way, you'll do as we say."
Barty stepped closer, his tone cold. "You'll participate in the tournament tomorrow. You'll win. And you won't tell a soul about what you've learned here tonight. If you do...Hermione dies. Now, be a lamb and transform back into little Harry… before I change my mind."
Harry's hands trembled with rage, but he forced himself to focus. Slowly, reluctantly, he let Viktor go and began to transform back into his normal self.
"Good," Barty said with a smirk. "Now, keep your end of the deal, and maybe you'll see her again."
Viktor adjusted his collar, smirking as he turned to leave. But before he stepped through the door, he turned back, pulling a blade from his cloak. With a swift motion, he stabbed Harry in the side.
"That," Viktor said coldly, "is for interfering in the Black Lake. I really wanted to add a new mark. Perhaps I'll still get an opportunity."
As Harry collapsed to his knees, clutching his wound, Viktor and Barty disappeared into the shadows.
Moments later, Harvey burst into the room, his eyes widening at the sight of Harry bleeding on the floor.
"I couldn't just sit there," Harvey said, rushing to his friend's side. "What the hell happened?"
"Viktor...Barty..." Harry gasped, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Harvey quickly tore a strip of fabric from his robe and pressed it against Harry's wound. "Luckily, it isn't that deep," he noticed. "Come on. Let's get you back to your room. I'm pretty sure I have a sewing kit somewhere."
With Harvey's help, Harry staggered to his feet, his mind racing. The stakes for tomorrow's task had never been higher. He couldn't fail—not if he wanted to save Hermione.
Epilogue
In the dimly lit chamber, Viktor Zsasz, Barty Strange Jr., Bane, and Tom Nygma stood in a loose circle. The air was thick with tension and the faint scent of burning candles, their shadows dancing across the cold stone walls.
Nygma adjusted his emerald-green bowler hat, a sly grin spreading across his face as he surveyed the gathering. "Gentlemen," he began, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction, "everything is falling perfectly into place. The pieces on the board are exactly where we need them."
Viktor, leaning casually against a stone pillar, ran a finger along the edge of his still bloodied knife, his grin as sharp as the blade. "And tomorrow, the boy finally pays for meddling where he doesn't belong."
Barty chuckled darkly. "He thinks the tournament is his biggest challenge. But he has no idea what awaits him in that maze. And an even bigger surprise once he holds the TriWizard's Cup."
Bane stood silently, his hulking frame an imposing presence even in the flickering light. His arms were crossed, his massive chest rising and falling with steady breaths. "I have been waiting for this moment," Bane said, his voice a deep, menacing rumble. "Tomorrow, the Bat's heir will be broken. Mind, body, and spirit. And from the ashes of his failure..."
"Ra's al Ghul shall rise again," Nygma finished, his grin widening.
The room fell into a moment of heavy silence, the weight of their plot hanging in the air.
Bane's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. "You are certain the boy will not suspect what lies ahead?"
Nygma gave a theatrical bow. "Oh, I assure you, he will walk straight into our trap. The game has been played masterfully. And tomorrow...we checkmate."
Viktor sheathed his knife and smirked. "Let's hope Harry Wayne is ready for his final task."
The four exchanged dark glances, their resolve unshakable. Tomorrow would be a day of reckoning, the culmination of their plans, and the beginning of a new age of chaos.
To be continued…