Chapter 15 The Grounds of Madness

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament, but he still did not know what he would have to do. Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall sent a message to him, "You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock," she had written, "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

That night, Harry left his retinue in the residence and made his way to the Entrance Hall, Cedric emerged from the Hufflepuff common room, "What d'you reckon it's going to be?" he asked Harry as they went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."

"That wouldn't be too bad," said Harry, thinking back to the traps around the Philosopher's Stone during his first year.

They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field. "What've they done to it?" Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead. The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello there!" called a cheery voice. Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Victor and Fleur. Harry and Cedric made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges. "Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as Harry and Cedric climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the less than- happy expressions on Harry's and Cedric's faces, "You'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then, "Maze," grunted Viktor.

"That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We simply have to get through a maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures…then there will be spells, traps and enchantments. The champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." He smiled at Harry and Cedric. "Then Champion Krum will enter and finally Champion Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

Harry, who knew only too well the kind of creatures that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all. However, he nodded politely like the other champions.

"Very well… if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly…"

The Champions lingered for a few moments; it was not long before they too were heading up towards the castle, in conversation about the task itself. Cedric and Fleur pulled slightly ahead and Viktor suppressed a smirk in their direction. He stared at Harry for a few seconds and then said, "You fly very well. I was watching at the first task."

Harry grinned, "And I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint you pulled…" Something was moving behind Krum, in the trees. Harry's first thought was the Arcomantulas that lived in the forest and grabbed Viktor's arm and pull him around. His wand slid in to his hand from its forearm auror holster, "Contact!" snapped Harry.

Viktor's wand was raised as they spread out slightly. Fleur and Cedric were no longer lovers lost in each other as both turned, wands drawn towards the source of movement, "What is it?" asked Victor.

Harry shook his head, staring at the place where he had seen movement. Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Harry did not recognize him… then he realized it was Mr. Crouch. He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see. He reminded Harry vividly of an old tramp he had seen once when out shopping with the Dursleys. That man too had been conversing wildly with thin air; Aunt Petunia had seized Dudley's hand and pulled him across the road to avoid him; Uncle Vernon had then treated the family to a long rant about what he would like to do with beggars and vagrants.

"Isn't he a judge?" said Krum, staring at Mr. Crouch. "Isn't he with your Ministry of Magic?"

Harry nodded, hesitated for a moment, "Cover me," and then walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree.

"… and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve…"

"Mr. Crouch?" said Harry cautiously.

"… and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen… do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will…"

Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees. "Mr. Crouch?" Harry said loudly. "Are you all right?"

Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head. Harry looked around at Krum, who had followed him into the trees, and was looking down at Crouch in alarm, "What's wrong with him?"

"No idea," Harry muttered. "Listen, you'd better go and get someone …"

"Dumbledore!" gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out and seized a handful of Harrys' robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Harry's head. "I need… see… Dumbledore…I've done… stupid… thing…" Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must… tell… Dumbledore…"

"Get up, Mr. Crouch," said Harry loudly and clearly. "Get up, I'll take you to Dumbledore!"

Mr. Crouch's eyes rolled forward onto Harry. "Who… you?" he whispered.

"I'm a student at the school," said Harry, looking around at Krum for some help, but Krum was hanging back, looking extremely nervous.

"You're not… his?" whispered Crouch, his mouth sagging. Harry did not have the faintest idea what Crouch was talking about. "Dumbledore's?" Crouch was pulling him closer; Harry tried to loosen Crouch's grip on his robes, but it was too powerful. "Warn… Dumbledore…"

Something Professor McGonagall had said to him once came back, "When in doubt, it is better to take immediate action and overreact than to be taken off guard. "I'll get Dumbledore if you let go of me," said Harry. "Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I'll get him…"

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly; we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge." Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed completely unaware that Harry was there, which surprised Harry so much he did not notice that Crouch had released him. "Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.S, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response…"

He realized it would take too long for the Goblin's to reach them out on the grounds. "Viktor, Cedric, Fleur," he ordered, "Stay with him. I'll get… Dumbledore," he could not believe he had just said that, "I know where his office is."

"He is mad," said Krum doubtfully, staring down at Crouch, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently convinced it was Percy.

"Just stay with him," said Harry, starting to get up, but his movement seemed to trigger another abrupt change in Mr. Crouch, who seized him hard around the knees and pulled Harry back to the ground.

"Don't… leave… me!" he whispered, his eyes bulging again. "I… escaped… must warn… must tell… see Dumbledore… my fault… all my fault… Bertha… dead… all my fault… my son… my fault… tell Dumbledore… Harry Potter… the Dark Lord… stronger… Harry Potter…"

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!" said Harry. He looked furiously around at Krum. "Help me, will you?"

Looking extremely apprehensive, Krum moved forward, squatted down next to Mr. Crouch, and cast a calming charm to relax the distraught man.

"Just keep him here," said Harry, pulling himself free of Mr. Crouch. "I'll be back with Dumbledore."

"Hurry, please," called Fleur after him as Harry sprinted away from the forest and up through the dark grounds. Harry tore up the stone steps, through the oak front doors, and off up the marble staircase, toward the second floor. Five minutes later, he was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor.

"Sher - sherbet lemon!" he panted. This was the password to the hidden staircase to Dumbledore's office - or at least, it had been two years ago. The password had evidently changed, however, for the stone gargoyle did not spring to life and jump aside, but stood frozen, glaring at Harry malevolently. "Move!" Harry shouted at it. "C'mon!"

However, nothing at Hogwarts had ever moved just because he shouted at it; he knew it was no good. He looked up and down the dark corridor when inspiration struck, "Lady of the Castle, if you can hear me I require the aid of headmaster –"

"POTTER!" Harry looked around. Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" said Harry, running back up the corridor and skidding to a standstill in front of Snape instead. "It's Mr. Crouch… he's just turned up… he's in the forest… he's asking -"

"What is this rubbish?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Crouch!" said Harry, "From the Ministry! He's ill or something - he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to -"

"The headmaster is busy. Potter," said Snape, his thin mouth curling into an unpleasant smile.

"I've got to tell Dumbledore!" Harry voice dropped in volume, to that chilling cold tone he had leveled at a select few people thus far this year.

"Didn't you hear me, Potter?" Harry could tell Snape was thoroughly enjoying himself, denying Harry.

"My Lady, if you can hear me," Harry thought, "I would really, appreciate your help right now. Please!"

Snape vanished. Harry blinked and turned a full circle, wondering where the head of Slytherin house had vanished. The stone wall slid open and there, wearing long green robes and an expression that mingled curiosity and surprise, stood the headmaster, "I was just about to take a shower…" he seemed confused, but then, so was Harry, "Is there a problem Harry?"

"Headmaster," Harry said, "Mr. Crouch is here - he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!" Harry expected Dumbledore to ask questions, but to his relief, Dumbledore did nothing of the sort.

"Lead the way," he said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind Harry. "What did Mr. Crouch say?" said Dumbledore as they walked swiftly down the marble staircase, transfiguring his robes as they moved.

"Said he wants to warn you… said he's done something terrible… he mentioned his son… and Bertha Jorkins… and Voldemort… something about Voldemort getting stronger… He's not acting normally," Harry said, hurrying along beside Dumbledore. "He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking as if he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you… I left him with the three other champions. There should be several members of the Agaan Gharaar there too," said Harry, his tongue twisting its way around the Gobbledegook with an ease that surprised the headmaster.

Dumbledore began to take longer strides still, "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?"

"No," said Harry. "You had just finished telling us about the third task and we were talking when Mr. Crouch came out of the forest -" his wand was still in his hand as they crossed the grounds.

"Where are they?" said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

"Over here," said Harry, moving in front of Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. He could not hear Crouch's voice anymore, but he knew where he was going; it had not been much past the Beauxbatons carriage… somewhere around here…something was not right, "Viktor? Cedric?" he called, "Fleur? Anyone here?" No one answered. "They were here," Harry said to Dumbledore, when he caught the smell of something, burnt, "They were definitely around here…"

"Lumos," Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up. Harry stared at the torch like beam of light, and had to restrain himself for raising his eyebrow – a gesture he had picked up from Viktor – in frustration.

"Plurious Lumos Maxima!" a half dozen glowing balls of light leapt from Harry's wand, and shot up, brushing the lowest branches of the trees, throwing illumination across the entire area. Harry was not sure what shocked him more: The sight of three champions sprawled across the ground or more worryingly the fact that the area showed signs of combat. Spells had burned away chunks of the trees, and carved small scars in the earth. One was still smoking slightly. Spell damage accompanied four goblin warriors, almost certainly dead. One had died with his sword and axe sheathed. The wind shifted, blowing towards them and carrying, what Harry would come to know as the smell of death. The coppery scent of blood, a slightly more… chemical something. The goblins had literally been blown apart.

Harry and Dumbledore hurried forward to find Viktor and the other champions sprawled across the forest floor. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Dumbledore bent over and gently lifted one of Viktor's eyelids. "Stunned," he said softly. His half-moon glasses glittered in the wand light as he peered around at the surrounding trees.

Harry set to work immediately, "Ennervate Maxima!" he cast bringing the three champions back to consciousness.

Dumbledore had pointed his wand in the air and in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Harry saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie still. "He attacked me!" Krum muttered, putting a hand up to his head. "The old madman attacked me! I was looking around, when the Goblins arrived. And then we were attacked from behind!"

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels, his massive crossbow with the string drawn back and an arrow notched, "Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry - what the -?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxine," said Dumbledore, "Their students have been attacked. Harry, I presume you can reach Griphook. He should be informed" Harry nodded as the headmaster turned his attention back to Hagrid, "When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody -"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here." Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. "Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker… what's happened?

Hagrid turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him. "I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm on to it," growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke again until they heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Both headmaster and headmistress were close behind him, and they looked, to Harry, in two words, pissed off.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum seated with his back to a tree, with the other two champions alongside him, "What's going on?"

"I was attacked!" said Krum, sitting up now and rubbing his head. "Mr. Crouch or somebody attacked us…"

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?" he rounded on Dumbledore, clutching his furs around him, and looked pissed off, "Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. "It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First, you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences - here's what I think of you!"

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree. "Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing. Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply.

"That will not be, Headmaster Dumbledore," said a disembodied voice. Goblins warriors cancelled concealment charms, with weapons drawn and spells upon their fingertips. They had come for a fight. "Four Goblins of the Axe Master Honor Guard have been slain this night," said Griphook, his lips pursed together, "But they were able to dispatch a sprite with the warning from Ursh-kai Potter." Another dozen Goblins emerged from the tree line, "And an attack upon our Champion, is an attack upon Gringotts," said Griphook grimly.

"Whoever he was, he's gone then" growled Moody, "Found some footprints… but they lead off in to the Forest proper." The scarred veteran turned towards the forest. The one eyed Auror glanced at the crest, sewn in to the sleeves of the Goblin's tunics. Aurors and even Hit Wizards were wary of any Goblin that bore the crest of any Honor Guard. Though none would admit it publically, in private the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had doubts as to whether they could handle a full scale Goblin Revolt.

Madame Maxine sized up the situation and realized quickly that Albus Dumbledore was clearly not as in control as he claimed to be. Two of his students were champions in the tournament was bad enough, but that he could not even control one of them – even if it was Harry Potter did not sit well with her. Considering that Fleur had given her a rapid French summation, she would not be making any issue of this at present, mainly because her own school's Champion did not wish this to become public knowledge.

"This is disheartening to see, Headmaster Dumbledore," said the French headmistress, "I however, do not think that you would orchestrate such an attack," she cast a sidelong glance at Karkaroff, "Irrespective of what my colleagues may think."

There was no doubt that things were getting more than slightly out of hand. However the horse had bolted, and there was no point in shutting the gate. Harry was quick to realize that they were all stuck reacting to whatever whoever was planning. That rankled him a great deal, but not as much as what would come next. Griphook followed Harry's gaze to the dead, "They died in your service, Harry."

"I know," he let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. There was the smell of blood, of death in the air as he made his way amongst the dead, "Griphook, they died in my service," he knelt by the one of the dead, and careful drew the fallen Goblin's short sword, and with some difficulty did the same to the axe. He struggled to remember what he had read, the proper phrasing.

His friend stepped close and whispered the necessary incantation, one that Harry repeated. The Goblin's still standing guard turned to witness the soft glow engulf Harry as he knelt beside the only Goblin with his weapons sheathed, "Tharragan, fell with his blades sheathed," he said softly, but clearly. His voice carried to all those gathered, "But it was through his actions that the Clans were made aware of treachery this night. Though he did not fall, as a warrior should, he fell in defense of the honor of his Clan. He fell in defense of the honor of the Agaan Gharaar Muukuur Hor." The Goblin's weapons slid smoothly from their sheaths, and Harry pressed them in to their owners' hands, "There is no dishonor, in his death."

Griphook nodded, "The funerals rites will be held, as is our custom." Harry nodded, "I will make arrangements," said Griphook, "You should take your leave."

No outsider had ever witnessed a Goblin funeral. Harry was not going to be the first.