The third task was on the evening after the final History of Magic exam. The end of the term left everyone feeling refreshed, and the school was once again abuzz with intense speculation about who would ultimately win the Triwizard Cup. The students at Hogwarts were extremely confident. After all, Harry and Diggory were currently tied for first place in the overall scores – it almost seemed as if Hogwarts' victory had been announced in advance.
During lunch, I met Mr. and Mrs. Potter, who had been invited to watch the competition. Mrs. Potter looked extremely anxious and kept complaining that Harry hadn't written to tell them about the competition events in advance ("How dangerous! Did you ever think you might be burned to death by a dragon or drowned in the lake...").
"Fiona," Mr. Potter consoled his wife, "This is the rule of the competition. He was supposed to solve the problems on his own."
"Rules! The rule is that students under seventeen are not allowed to participate in this competition!" Mrs. Potter said angrily to her husband. "You also refused to write to Dumbledore to get Harry to withdraw from the competition! Our son has been safe and sound until now only because of his good luck!"
"Very well done, extremely well done," Mr. Potter took off his glasses and wiped them, then said to Harry, "Although I've written at least five letters already, I still have to say that perhaps even I wouldn't have thought of using a broomstick to deal with that dragon – I would have considered casting a spell on the dragon's eyes. You've solved so many difficult problems without relying on us. As a father, I'm really very proud."
"I didn't solve them all by myself," Harry said, looking embarrassed. "A lot of people helped."
We all smiled and focused on the food in front of us, not intending to claim credit for our contributions at this moment.
"Still, it was a group of fourteen - year - olds who solved problems that most adults would be at a loss to handle," Mr. Potter said, looking uncharacteristically serious. He patted Tallus on the shoulder, ruffled Ron's hair, leaned over to shake Hermione's hand, and said, "Kids, you should be proud of yourselves. Adult wisdom isn't necessarily better. Always believe in your own strength."
As spectators, the third task was even less visually appealing than the second one. At least during the second task, it was daytime and we had a large, glittering lake to watch. When we reached the Quidditch pitch, climbed up into the stands, we found that everyone could only look at the high walls that blocked all views in the increasingly dark evening sky.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the final event of the Triwizard Tournament begins!" Ludo Bagman's voice roused everyone's enthusiasm. Applause and cheers startled the birds in the Forbidden Forest into the night sky. As he announced the scoring order of the champions, the audience politely gave applause and encouragement to each champion. Many people had brought huge cheering signs and various decorations. The heads of each house decided that the students should still sit according to their houses. It took me a long time to squeeze my way from beside Draco to the seat next to Hermione. I saw Neville looking intently at the arena, as if he didn't feel the crowding at all, holding a dark - colored water cup in his hand.
"Where's Seamus?" I heard Dean Thomas ask beside me. "I haven't been able to find him."
"He said he wasn't feeling well and went back to the common room to rest first," Neville replied, raising the water cup to take a sip.
With a short whistle, Harry and Diggory set off first. Mr. Bagman introduced the entire maze to us in a lively tone. He said that the maze was not only filled with numerous obstacles to test the champions, but also had Portkeys placed in unexpected places - if the champions were a little careless, all their previous efforts would be in vain and they would be teleported to another corner of the maze to start all over again.
"Harry can use the Point Me spell, so he should be okay," Hermione said anxiously. "I really hope he can use the Reducto curse better than when we practiced in the classroom."
"Winning the Triwizard Cup means being the champion, and the scores from the previous two events don't count?" Ron said, sounding a bit discouraged. "Isn't that just down to pure luck? Even Delacour might stumble upon it and get it first by accident. Percy was also disqualified as a judge, although he surely wouldn't have been biased towards Harry..."
With the final whistle, Miss Delacour also entered the maze. By this time, it had almost completely darkened. The stands were abuzz with noise, but in fact, no one could see what was happening inside the maze. After a long time, the initial excitement had worn off. Suddenly, a red firework appeared in the sky above the maze - it was the designated distress signal.
Mrs. Potter almost stood up immediately, her face pale as she clutched the clothes over her chest. But soon everyone recognized that the unconscious figure being carried out was Miss Delacour, who had entered the maze last. The students from Beauxbatons let out disappointed sighs. Now there were only three people left in the maze.
After a while, another firework rose from a place closer to the center of the maze. Everyone eagerly lit their wands to see who was withdrawing from the competition - it was Viktor Krum. At this time, the students of Hogwarts could hardly hide their excitement. Whether Harry or Diggory finally got the Triwizard Cup, the honor would belong to Hogwarts. Someone took the lead in singing the Hogwarts school song. Accompanied by the long roars of the lion and the eagle, the sound lingered over the maze for a long time.
Another firework exploded in the night sky. Everyone stood up and pushed forward desperately. Cedric's blood - smeared face appeared outside the maze. As if he had just realized what he had done, he struggled to break free from those who were helping him and excitedly said something to the judges, pointing his finger at Krum, who had just regained consciousness beside him.
"Only Harry is left in the maze," Hermione said, looking worriedly at the night sky. "The other three have all withdrawn... Although I'm happy for him, but..."
"He'll get the Triwizard Cup," Tallus, who hadn't spoken since just now, finally said. "He surely will. We've believed in him from the very beginning, haven't we?"
"Neville?" After some more time, Hermione also noticed that Neville seemed a bit strange. He had been looking straight ahead calmly, never standing up to watch the game, nor participating in the cheering for Harry by the Gryffindors. He was almost mechanically taking a sip of water from the cup every now and then. "What are you drinking? Are you okay?"
"Don't touch me!" He roughly slapped away Hermione's hand which was showing concern. "Stay away from me."
"Hey," Ron turned around and said to Neville. "She's caring about you. You really don't look right. Is your scar hurting again?"
"No," he mumbled dully, taking another sip of water. Pushed by Thomas, who was excitedly waving his arms beside him, a trickle of the liquid ran down from the corner of his mouth.
"What are you drinking?" Hermione and I stood up simultaneously. There were so many different smells in the stands that I couldn't distinguish the odor of that liquid. But as soon as Hermione snatched the water cup from his hand and opened it, I smelled the scent of Polyjuice Potion.
"He's not Neville!" I shouted. "This is Polyjuice Potion!"
The Gryffindor section of the stands was thrown into chaos at once. The fake Neville's expression twisted as he just raised his wand, but Taurus and Hermione disarmed him simultaneously. He fell onto the seat, his eyes bulging terrifyingly, and the veins on his hands twisting as he desperately tried to grab the water cup from Hermione.
"What's going on?" Mr. Potter, who was watching the game in the front row, heard the commotion and pushed through the crowd. His glasses were askew. "Kids, what are you doing—"
"Someone is impersonating Neville!" Hermione shrieked. "Mr. Potter, we've caught this person, but Neville, he—"
"Don't panic!" he roared. "Fiona! Come over here and watch this person. Protect the safety of these kids! I need some people to go separately to find McGonagall, Moody, and Dumbledore! Iris, you're here... Go to the Slytherin section and find your father to come over, quickly!"
Taurus, Ron, Hermione, and I turned and left the stands. The chaos in the Gryffindor area didn't immediately draw everyone's attention. In the completely dark field, people couldn't tell whether the sounds they heard were cheers or screams. A cold sense of fear filled my heart. I pushed through the dejected Hufflepuffs with all my might. It was hard to reach the Slytherin stands, but after searching for a long time, I couldn't find where my father was. Draco called me several times from behind, but I had no time to answer him and rushed towards the area where the champions who had withdrawn from the competition were.
The withdrawn champions might have been hit by a dark curse, and my father might have gone to help. I just thought of this possibility and feel bad of myself for the time I had wasted just now.
Just as I ran past the empty field in front of the maze, three figures suddenly appeared out of thin air not far away. I was terrified. At the same time, the stands erupted into deafening cheers, the sound hurting my eardrums. Almost instinctively, I ran over to see what was happening. Harry's eyes were half - closed, his glasses completely broken. Only his heaving chest could prove that he was alive. Neville was being held tightly by him (I wasn't even sure if this was the real Neville). Both of their arms had a deep and long wound, and blood was constantly dripping from them onto the green grass.
Harry was also dragging another person, who was motionless like a pale and emaciated skeleton, maintaining a stiff posture with his arms outstretched.
"What happened?" I reached out with trembling hands to check the breaths of Neville and the other person. Neville was still alive, but the other one was already a cold corpse. Fear and panic rooted me to the spot, and I couldn't remember what Mr. Potter had told me to do just now. I could only instinctively separate Harry and Neville, and wipe the blood off Harry's face. "Harry... Is this the real Neville? Harry... Talk to me."
Chaotic footsteps came towards us. Harry finally clutched my wrist tightly and said to me in a trembling voice, "Dumbledore, go find..."
"He's coming!" I looked up and saw Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic striding towards us. I heard my own voice trembling uncontrollably.
"He's back," Harry whispered, his voice drowned out by even louder screams. "The Dark Lord... Neville and I..."
"Barty Crouch!" Fudge exclaimed in shock, looking at the corpse. "What's going on here, Dumbledore—"
I could barely tell who was saying what. Neville seemed to regain consciousness and murmured something to Dumbledore. Fudge insisted that both of them should go to the hospital wing for treatment. Dumbledore didn't seem to approve of this suggestion, but he needed to maintain order at the scene to prevent the corpse of Mr. Crouch from causing even greater panic.
"Kid, help me lift these two up," Finally, I heard Professor Moody speak. He effortlessly picked up Neville and motioned for me to help Harry up. "We're taking them to the hospital."
"But Professor Dumbledore said—" I felt completely at a loss, not knowing whose instructions to follow.
"He needs to lie down!" Moody said authoritatively. "Come on, it's too chaotic and unsafe here."
Harry's weight was difficult for me to bear, but he could barely stand up with my support. I could hardly tell whether the liquid flowing down my neck and soaking my robe was my own sweat or his blood. Guided by Moody, we quickly made our way through the noisy crowd towards the castle. Neville kept covering his scar, gasping and mumbling incoherently, looking extremely pained.
"Someone was impersonating Neville, Professor Moody," I said, struggling to support Harry as I finally remembered why I'd come onto the field. "Shouldn't we check if this is the real Neville..."
"Of course he's the real one," Moody snapped, cutting me off. His wooden leg thudded loudly in the quiet castle corridor. "Tell me, Potter, what happened?"
"The trophy was a Portkey," Harry said. There seemed to be blood in his throat, and he coughed several times before speaking weakly. "I didn't encounter any obstacles along the way... I saw that they'd all withdrawn from the competition, but the trophy transported me to a graveyard... Neville appeared right after, unconscious... The Dark Lord was waiting there."
"The Dark Lord was there? And then?"
"Mr. Crouch, he was under the Imperius Curse, and his house - elf... brewed a potion to restore his body."
I was shaking so much that I almost stumbled, and Harry gripped my wrist.
"Restored his body? He was resurrected?" Moody asked, sounding a bit urgent.
"He took my blood and Neville's, a wrapped - up hand, and his father's bones... and was resurrected. Then he summoned the Death Eaters..." At this point, Neville seemed to regain a bit of consciousness.
"We dueled... Mr. Crouch suddenly came to his senses. He grabbed Neville's wand to protect us... and then something strange happened... I saw several ghost - like things. They told us to escape and use the Portkey to come back... and then Mr. Crouch died."
It was only when we reached the door of Moody's office that I realized he hadn't taken us to the hospital wing. He gave a strange hiss, then pushed us into the chairs in his office.
"Which Death Eaters came back?" Moody asked softly.
"Avery... Nott... Crabbe... Goyle... Macnair... Lucius Malfoy," Harry said as if waking from a dream. "Hogwarts! There's a Death Eater at Hogwarts! He arranged all this. He put my name in the Goblet of Fire—he also heard a prophecy... Karkaroff! Professor Moody!"
When I heard the name Lucius Malfoy, it felt like a huge rock had sunk to the bottom of my stomach.
Moody let out a scornful sneer. "Karkaroff? He's already fled. As soon as the Dark Mark flared up, he ran away—after betraying so many of our comrades, a so - called loyal supporter of the Dark Lord. How dare he go back?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, my lips trembling. "What do you mean by 'our comrades'?"
"Exactly what it sounds like," Moody's blue magical eye spun wildly. I heard the sound of the office door locking. When I jumped up and drew my wand to stand in front of Harry and Neville, he bared an ugly, maniacal smile. "Stupid girl, save your energy."
"Expelliarmus!" I shrieked, but it only hit a nearby Sneakoscope. Amid the ear - piercing hum, I felt my wand fly out of my hand in an instant, as if a pair of hands were squeezing my neck.
"I remember. At St. Mungo's, Longbottom told Dumbledore that you were there and heard the prophecy too," Moody said with glee. "So I don't have to worry about Longbottom being muddle - headed... You seem to have a clear head, don't you?"
"Let her go!"
Harry's angry shout was cut off the next second. Moody casually tossed my wand and Harry's aside. "Come on, little girl. Tell me the complete content of that prophecy. Then I'll offer the greatest gift to the Dark Lord's return—the ones he couldn't kill, I'll kill for him. The ones he couldn't get rid of, I'll get rid of for him—no matter how many candles are lit, just snuff them out in one breath! I'll kill Potter and Longbottom right away, and the master will reward me handsomely... Now tell me, what are the next few lines after 'The skewed fate will also light the remaining candle flames'?"
"It was you," I said with difficulty. "At St. Mungo's... the invisible thing I bumped into..."
"It was me," he burst into laughter, his face horribly distorted with excessive glee. "Of course it was me! Unfortunately, I only heard half of it before Dumbledore discovered me! But it doesn't matter. I heard that my master was about to return, and nothing can stop his return—not even my father! He even brewed the resurrection potion for him with his own hands! This is my best revenge on him, the best revenge!"
Neville seemed to be awake. He struggled and let out an inarticulate roar. Moody didn't even glance at him and cast a Binding Curse on him and Harry.
"Seems I have to use some methods to make you talk, huh?" He licked his lips. "Doesn't matter. I'm quite good at prying out what I want from people's mouths—Longbottom is quite familiar with that, right? I even demonstrated it to you in class..."
"Crucio!"
I had never experienced such pain. It was as if all the miseries in the world were gnawing down along every nerve that could sense pain. My mind went blank, and I just wanted it to stop—at any cost, even if it meant I would stop breathing from this moment. The scream that filled the whole room didn't seem to be my own. How could I make such a terrifying sound?
Next, a huge noise and impact almost made me lose consciousness. I lay on the ground, and through the hazy dust, I vaguely saw several figures reflected in the Foe - Glass in Moody's office. Dumbledore stood in the front, wand in hand, his face so terrifying that no one dared to look directly at it—there was no kind smile, and the twinkling, cheerful light under the half - moon glasses was gone. It seemed that every wrinkle was bursting with deep - seated anger, as if this anger was blazing around him.
"It's okay." A pair of trembling hands picked me up. It was my father. His hands, which could precisely weigh every potion ingredient to two decimal places, were now shaking constantly. He almost clumsily pushed aside Harry, who had broken free from the Binding Curse and rushed to my side, and carefully picked me up. "It's okay, Iris. Dad is here... We're going to the hospital wing."
"She needs to stay," I heard Dumbledore's voice. Along with the lingering tinnitus, all sounds seemed to be coming and going in my ears.
"I can't see what she has to do with what happened tonight. She just happened to run into Moody!" Dad roared. "She's had enough tonight!"
"Whether it's fate or coincidence, she has heard so much," Dumbledore said calmly. "We respect Iris's own will, and Harry's too. Do you want to stay?"
"I do," Harry and I said together. Blood was still dripping from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were firm. The twitching caused by the pain still hadn't stopped, and my mind was in a daze, but I wanted to know what on earth was going on—wasn't that prophecy just Professor Trelawney's rambling?
Mr. Potter, who had also rushed in, pursed his lips. After exchanging a look with my father, he stood beside his son. Dad carefully placed me on the chair.
"Then, Severus," Dumbledore unfastened the keys and the flask on the unconscious Moody, "I need you to get the most potent Veritaserum. We'll take good care of Iris."