Chapter 17 The Third Task

Perhaps Harry would have gained a great deal, perhaps not, but in any case, the memories they had retrieved from Dumbledore's pensieve were worthless. Their exposure to the less than pure glass of the Butterbeer bottles had left only many fragments that in isolation made little to no sense. They only served to raise more questions than answers.

He had viewed them, and had seen fragments of what appeared to be trials of suspected and actual death eaters from the first wizarding war and had seen enough to know that it was an icy fast and dark whirlpool that left more questions than answers, even if some of what he knew helped fill in the gaps. He signed and went over again what he had learned from the fragments. The trial of Igor Karkaroff had revealed that Snape was a death eater who had changed sides early on in the war. Ludo Bagman had been accused and acquitted of being a Death Eater. Rita Skeeter had probably been the same mooching parasite back then.

Neville… he suddenly realized in some ways, Neville had it worse than him. At least for him, there was a sense of closure. His parents were dead. Neville could only wonder whether his parents would ever recover or just die in a state of permanent ignorance. That least damaged memory was the one that haunted Harry the most: The sight of Barty Crouch Junior pleading for his life as his father threw him to the Dementors and disowned him.

He had shared the information within only with Griphook, his godfather, and 'Mione. Together the four could come up with no reason to keep the memories and had destroyed them, after vowing to keep Neville's' secret. Their friend did deserve to tell them the truth, on his own whenever he was ready. He also realized that he had been something of a hypocrite, condemning the headmaster's actions when his own were, not exactly laudable where the pensieve was concerned. Though 'Mione had been the most difficult to persuade, she had agreed, to keep this as their secret.

Just as well. It was one less thing on Harry's mind as June 24 drew ever closer. He was nervous, but considering the first two tasks and that he had done something loosely similar during his first year, he was if anything, more confident about this task. He had done everything he could to prepare and even if one of his friends won, the tournament would be over. That would be a relief in itself.

The morning of the third task, Harry sat surrounded by his friends at the Gryffindor Table. Conversation was quiet, almost muted. They all knew what was at stake that night and none seemed to care that their last exam of the year was later that morning. Then again, it was History of Magic was a bit of a joke as a class, and so was the exam. Some had joked that Binns had been teaching it for so long, he had forgotten most of what he was supposed to teach and just assigned grades to keep the students happy which in turn kept the parents and other professors in turn happy, allowing him to drone on in his usual mindless fashion.

"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," said Professor McGonagall.

"But the task is not till tonight!" said Harry, already suspicious of something, and considering the events surrounding the second task, he had every right to be cautious.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them." She moved away.

Harry stared at the retreating back of his Transfiguration Professor, wondering if she'd lost the plot, "She doesn't actually expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" he asked 'Mione blankly.

Though he would have done Mad Eye Moony proud with his paranoia, he saw Fleur get up from the Ravenclaw Table, along with Cedric, as they crossed to a side chamber and entered. A few moments later, Victor slouched off to join them. Harry hesitated; he had no family - no family that would turn up, wish him good luck, watch him risk life and pray he survived at any rate. Just as he was contemplating retreating to do a little training, Cedric stuck his head out, "Harry! Come on, they're waiting for you!"

Utterly perplexed Harry got up. The Dursleys could not possibly be here, could they? He walked across the Hall and opened the door into the chamber. Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He had inherited his father's hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother's hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back with a smile. Then he saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasely and Bill Weasely standing in front of the fireplace. The parents were clearly on their guard, and the eldest sons, though more relaxed, wore expressions of cautious friendship.

"Surprise!" Mrs. Weasley said. He smiled and walked over to them, trying his best to keep things at least civil, even as he noted Ron skulking in a corner of the room, before departing quietly without making a scene, something he was thankful for at that moment, "Thought we'd come and watch!" She gave him a hug, and he returned it, making the hug a brief one.

"All right?" said Bill, grinning at Harry and shaking his hand. "Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail."

"This is really nice of you," Harry muttered to Mrs. Weasley. "I thought for a moment - the Dursleys -"

"Hmm," said Mrs. Weasley, pursing her lips. She had always refrained from criticizing the Dursleys in front of Harry, but her eyes flashed every time their name came up.

"It's great being back here," said Bill, looking around the chamber (Violet, the Fat Lady's friend, winked at him from her frame). "Haven't seen this place for five years. Is that picture of the mad knight still around? Sir Cadogan?"

"Oh yeah," said Harry, who had met Sir Cadogan the previous year, "Still as mad as a hatter."

"And the Fat Lady?" said Bill.

"She was here in my time," said Mrs. Weasley. "She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning -"

"What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?" said Bill, surveying his mother with amazement.

Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Your father and I had been for a night time stroll," she said. "He got caught by Apollyon Pringle - he was the caretaker in those days - your father's still got the marks."

"Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?" said Bill.

"Yeah, okay," said Harry, and they made their way back toward the door into the Great Hall. As they passed Amos Diggory, he looked around.

"There you are, are you?" he said, looking Harry up and down. "Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?"

Harry was about to make a scathing remark, but it died on his lips at the apologetic glance from Cedric, "Ignore him," said Cedric in a low voice to Harry, frowning after his father. "He's been in a… mood ever since he found out that there were two Hogwarts Champions - even after you became Gringott's Champion he's still…." Cedric shrugged. He did not know what else he could say. Harry however, could relate, considering what his own "family."

"Still… you'll show him, Ced." said Amos Diggory, loudly enough for Harry to hear as he started to walk out of the door, "Beaten him once before, haven't you?"

"Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!" Mr. Weasley said angrily. "I would have thought you'd know that, working at the Ministry!"

Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say something angry, but his wife laid a hand on his arm, and he merely shrugged and turned away.

Harry had a very enjoyable morning walking over the sunny grounds with Bill and Mrs. Weasley, showing them the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship. Mrs. Weasley was intrigued by the Whomping Willow that was planted after she had left school, and reminisced at length about the gamekeeper before Hagrid, a man called Ogg.

"How's Percy?" Harry asked as they walked around the greenhouses.

"Not good," said Bill.

"He's very upset," said Mr. Weasley, lowering her voice and glancing around. "The Ministry wants to keep Mr. Crouch's disappearance quiet, but Percy's been hauled in for questioning about the instructions Mr. Crouch has been sending in. They seem to think there's a chance they weren't genuinely written by him. Percy's been under a lot of strain. Madame Umbridge will be filling in as the fourth judge again."

They returned to the castle for lunch and were seated at the Gryffindor Table, surrounded by laughing friends, free at last after their final exam. ". How was your exam?" asked Molly, giving Ron a certain look, reserved specially for examination enquiries.

"Oh… okay," said Ron. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley alternated between looking worried and stern, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

Though she had heard that her youngest son and Harry were at odds, she was shocked at just how far apart the two had grown. They would not make eye contact, and could not even maintain polite, civil conversation with each other. Where Hermione used to be something, or rather someone that could keep them together, she was with Harry now.

Ron, to her surprise and shock, had quickly excused himself from the Gryffindor Table to join the Slytherins, where he sat alongside Draco, Pansy, and Daphne, amongst others. Though her eyes wandered the length and breadth of the great hall, her gaze kept returning to Ron, seemingly without a friend in his own house. She had promised herself, promised her husband that she would not interfere, but no parent can sit idly by at such a sight. She approached the laughing group that to her surprised included Luna Lovegood, amongst others, "Harry, could I have a few minutes?"

The smile and laughter vanished in that instant, replaced by something else that reminded Molly of a Goblin's professional demeanor, "Of course, Mrs. Weasely." He did not attempt to move away from his friends, who to their credit carried on as if they were not waiting for the upcoming exchange. Harry beat her to the punch, "I am quite sure, that this is about Ron." Molly blinked, taken aback by the blunt directness, "You have I'm sure received a letter from Professor McGonagall, detailing what happened just after Halloween," he said, "He has never apologized for that. He apologized for not believing that I had not put my name in the Goblet of Fire, but not for the screaming and the, attempting hexing..."

Harry hesitated for a moment, "You have seen the inside of my Gringotts Vault," She nodded, uncertain where this was going. "So it makes no sense for me to risk my life over a thousand galleons." Not to mention that his family vault made his trust vault look like a picnic basket.

Molly Weasely was speechless, and then her own children drove nails in to Ron's coffin, "Mum, we tried talking to Ron…." began Fred

"…but listening has never been his strong suit…" said George.

"…and he blew us both off, and did the same to Ginny." concluded Fred.

"We tried," said Ginny, quietly, "We tried really hard. He drifted away from more than his friends mum," she gestured towards the Slytherin Table, "He left his house. We didn't make him leave." She was staring at her brother, seated with his back to them, "He found new friends… and never had time for us after that."

"I'm sorry Harry," Mrs. Weasely had no idea what else she could say, "If you like, I could…"

"Don't waste your time on my account," interrupted Harry, "I have tried, and I am tired of trying. After three years of difficulties, I don't know if he doesn't understand or he just refuses to understand what it is that destroyed our friendship. Please understand Mrs. Weasely, and I do not condemn everyone just because of the actions of one person. I'm proud to say that three of your children," he indicated the Prank Master Generals and the general in training with a wave of his hand, "as being amongst my closest friends."

Molly quietly retreated. She shook her head and sighed as she looked at the membership of the alleged "Honor Guard" of Harry Potter: Two of her sons, her only daughter, Luna Lovegood, Colin Creevey, and Neville Longbottom. The only ones missing it seemed, were the Tournaments other three champions. These friendships would go beyond the walls of the castle and see them through the trials and challenges of life. Ron could have been a part of this. And he threw it all away.

With Fred, George, and Ginny sitting next to him, Harry was having such a good time he felt almost as though he were back at the Burrow; he had forgotten to worry about that evening's task. The afternoon passed leisurely enough, spent by the lake, enjoying the sunny weather. He slipped away for a few minutes before the evening feast but was back amongst his friends before anyone noticed he had left.

The judges were gathered at the staff table, and were joined by Cornelius Fudge. There were more courses than usual, but Harry didn't eat much as the enchanted ceiling began to fade from blue to a dusky purple. Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table and silence fell, "Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now?"

Harry rose and the Gryffindor table exploded with applause: his friends gave him brief hugs and all wished him luck. The twins planted kisses, one on each check. The mood was light, happy even as everyone burst out laughing. Hermione held him for a lot longer than could be considered appropriate and kissed him soundly, drawing a few playful catcalls and wolf whistles from around the hall. Finally, he headed out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

"Feeling all right Harry?" Bagman asked as they went down the stone steps onto the grounds. "Confident?"

"I'm okay," said Harry. It was somewhat true; he was nervous, but he kept running over all the hexes and spells he had been practicing in his mind as they walked, and the knowledge that he could remember them all made him feel better.

They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage looked dark and to be honest, slightly creepy.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium, approached Bagman, and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," said Professor McGonagall to the champions. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The champions nodded. "Off you go, then!" said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers.

"Good luck. Harry," Hagrid whispered, and the four of them walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, "Sonorous," and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands. "Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each - Champion Diggory of Hogwarts, and Champion Potter of Gringotts!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points: Champion Krum of Durmstrang!" More applause "And in third place – Champion Delacour of Beauxbatons!"

"So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three - two - one -"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze.

The towering hedges cast black shadows and the sound of the surrounding crowd vanished. Harry felt almost as though he were underwater again. After about fifty yards, they reached a fork. They looked at each other.

"See you," Harry said. The friends shook hands and he took the left one, while Cedric took the right.

Wand in hand, he cast his first spell of the task, "Lumos Maxima!" the ball of light was a beacon in the darkness and lit up the passage ten feet forwards and backwards. He picked up the pace as Bagman's whistle blew a second time: Krum had entered the maze. His chosen path seemed completely deserted. He turned right, and hurried on. Bagman's whistle blew in the distance for the third time. All of the champions were now inside.

Harry kept looking behind him. The old feeling that he was being watched was upon him. The maze was growing darker with every passing minute as the sky overhead deepened to navy. He reached a second fork, "Point Me," he whispered to his wand, holding it flat in his palm.

The wand spun around once and pointed toward his right, into solid hedge. That way was north, and he knew that he needed to go northwest for the center of the maze. The best he could do was to take the left fork and go right again as soon as possible.

The path ahead was empty too, and when Harry reached a right turn and took it, he again found his way unblocked. Harry did not know why, but the lack of obstacles was unnerving him. Surely, he should have met something by now.

It felt as though the maze were luring him into a false sense of security. Then he heard movement right behind him. He held out his wand, ready to attack, but its beam fell only upon Cedric, who had just hurried out of a path on the right-hand side. Cedric looked severely shaken. The sleeve of his robe was smoking.

"Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts!" he hissed. "They're enormous - I only just got away!" He shook his head and dived out of sight, along another path. Keen to put plenty of distance between him and the Skrewts, Harry hurried off again. Then, as he turned a corner, he saw… a Dementor gliding toward him. Twelve feet tall, its face hidden by its hood, its rotting, scabbed hands outstretched, it advanced, sensing its way blindly toward him. Harry could hear its rattling breath; he felt clammy coldness stealing over him, but knew what he had to do…

He summoned the happiest thought he could, his memory of a walk along the lakeshore with Hermione, a memory he treasured as one of his happiest and raised his wand, "Expecto Patronum!" A silver stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand and galloped toward the Dementor, which fell back and tripped over the hem of its robes… Harry had never seen a Dementor stumble. "Hang on!" he shouted, advancing in the wake of his silver Patronus, "You're a boggart! Riddikulus!"

There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifter exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver stag faded from sight. Harry wished it could have stayed, he could have used some company… but he moved on, quickly and quietly as possible, listening hard, his wand held high once more.

Left… right… left again… Twice he found himself facing dead ends. He did the Four-Point Spell again and found that he was going too far east. He turned back, took a right turn, and saw an odd golden mist floating ahead of him. Harry approached it cautiously, pointing the wand's beam at it. This looked like some kind of enchantment. He wondered whether he might be able to blast it out of the way. "Reducto!"

The spell shot straight through the mist, leaving it intact. He supposed he should have known better; the Reductor Curse was for solid objects. What would happen if he walked through the mist? Was it worth chancing it, or should he double back?

He was still hesitating when a scream shattered the silence.

"Fleur?" Harry yelled.

There was silence. He stared all around him. What had happened to her? Her scream seemed to have come from somewhere ahead. He took a deep breath and ran through the enchanted mist.

The world turned upside down. Harry was hanging from the ground, with his hair on end, his glasses dangling off his nose, threatening to fall into the bottomless sky. He clutched them to the end of his nose and hung there, terrified. It felt as though his feet were glued to the grass, which had now become the ceiling. Below him, the dark, star-spangled heavens stretched endlessly. He felt as though if he tried to move one of his feet, he would fall away from the earth completely.

Think, he told himself, as all the blood rushed to his head, think… However, not one of the spells he had learned was designed to combat a sudden reversal of ground and sky. Did he dare move his foot? He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Two choices: Try to move, or send up red sparks, get rescued and disqualified from the task. Speaking of red sparks, he saw the flare of red as someone sent up sparks. Hopefully that was Fleur…

For a long moment, Harry considered sending up the red sparks himself, to get disqualified from the tournament and to end his participation in this farce of an event, which he had wanted nothing to do with since the moment he had been forced to compete in it. He shut his eyes, so he would not be able to see the view of endless space below him, and pulled his right foot as hard as he could away from the grassy ceiling.

Immediately, the world righted itself. Harry fell forward onto his knees onto the wonderfully solid ground. He felt temporarily limp with shock. He took a deep, steadying breath, "I started this shit, I might as well finish it!" He got up again and hurried forward, looking back over his shoulder as he ran away from the golden mist, which twinkled innocently at him in the moonlight.

The cup was somewhere close by, and he met nothing for a further ten minutes but kept running in to dead ends. He took the same wrong turn twice and then found a new route and started to jog along it, his shadow flicker and distort on the hedge walls.

Then he rounded another corner and found himself facing a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Cedric was right - it was enormous. Ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion with its long sting curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from the glowing orb Harry had cast earlier. "Stupefy!"

The spell hit the skrewt's armor and rebounded; Harry ducked just in time, but could smell burning hair; it had singed the top of his head. The skrewt issued a blast of fire from its end and flew forward toward him.

"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled. The spell hit the skrewt's armor again and ricocheted off; Harry staggered back a few paces and fell over. The Skrewt was inches from him, "Wingardium Leviosa!" He flew up, over the gnashing claws. Casting a hover charm on himself, Harry unleashed his counter to the creatures' claws and stinger: "Confringo Maxima! Reducto Plurios!" The monster shrieked, as its shell cracked and splintered. The second curse blasted a gaping wound in its flank. It shrieked, an ear rending sound as it retreated, with the knowledge that it had bitten off more than it could chew.

He took a left path and hit a dead end, a right, and hit another; forcing himself to stop, heart hammering, he performed the Four-Point Spell again, backtracked, and chose a path that would take him northwest. He had been hurrying along the new path for a few minutes, when he heard something in the path running parallel to his own that made him stop dead.

"What are you doing?" yelled Cedric's voice. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

Then Harry heard Krum's voice, "Crucio!"

The air was suddenly full of Cedric's yells. He studied the hedge for an instant, "Caries morior!" The spell was borderline dark magic, depending on whom you asked about it. Griphook had deemed it necessary for Harry to learn such spells, and the young man was grateful that he had not had to use it on a human. The hedge demonstrated the spell's ability well enough as a three foot section of it dried, withered and crumbled in to a mess of branches and brown leaves.

Though Viktor held his wand outstretched and held Cedric under the Cruciatus curse, it was clear that the Bulgarian was fighting the effects of the Imperious Curse, and loosing. "Stupefy Maximus!"

The spell struck Krum and flipped him over, landing him on his face in the grass. Harry dashed over to Cedric, who had stopped twitching and was lying there panting, his hands over his face. "Are you all right?" Harry said roughly, grabbing Cedric's arm.

"Yeah," panted Cedric. "Yeah… I found Fleur earlier and sent up sparks. But Krum…I do not believe it… he crept up behind me… I heard him, I turned around, and he had his wand on me… but it took him too long to cast the…" Cedric got up. He was still shaking. He and Harry looked down at Krum.

"Somebody," said Harry grimly, "really doesn't want you to win. He met Cedric's gaze for a moment, "Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?"

"Yeah," said Cedric. "You think whoever controlling Victor was… got him… to…"

"I don't know," said Harry slowly, "I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone will come and collect him… otherwise he'll probably be eaten by a skrewt." He raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he lay. Harry and Cedric stood there in the darkness for a moment, looking around them.

Then Cedric said, "Well… I s'pose we'd better go on…"

"What?" said Harry, "Oh… yeah… right." It was an odd moment. Now the fact that they were opponents came back to Harry. The two of them proceeded up the dark path without speaking, and then Harry turned left and Cedric right.

Cedric's footsteps soon died away.

Harry moved on, continuing to use the Four-Point Spell, making sure he was moving in the right direction. It was between him and Cedric now. His desire to reach the cup first was now burning stronger than ever… Harry sped up.

Every so often, he hit more dead ends, but the increasing darkness made him feel sure he was getting near the heart of the maze. Then, as he strode down a long, straight path, he saw movement once again, and illuminated an extraordinary creature, one that he had only seen in picture form, in his Monster Book of Monsters.

It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: great-clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Harry as he approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice. "You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

"So… so will you move, please?" said Harry, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"No," she said, continuing to pace. "Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess - I let you pass. Answer wrongly - I attack. Remain silent – I will let you walk away from me unscathed."

Harry's stomach slipped several notches. Hermione was good at this sort of thing. Not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try to find an alternative route to the center. "Okay," he said. "Can I hear the riddle?"

The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

"First think of the person who lives in disguise,

Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.

Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,

The middle of middle and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard

During the search for a hard-to-find word.

Now string them together, and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"

Though he was no puzzle solver or mastermind, he had nothing to lose by taking a shot at the riddle. He began by treating it as he would an ancient runes puzzle. The sphinx repeated the riddle as Harry wrote it out with his wand. Then he sectioned the riddle in to four parts. The first three pairs of lines were clues. The last was an instruction on how to solve the riddle.

Studying the first two lines, Harry immediately thought of the muggle action and spy movies his cousins used to watch… James something or other: Spy. He wrote that out next to the two lines with a question mark. He could come back to that later. The Sphinx sat up.

The next clue was baffling: There was no reference to anything, anything at all. The last clue was equally bizarre. A sound, hard to find word, "Er… that could be anything," said Harry thinking aloud. The Sphinx smiled and Harry blinked, "Er!" he wrote that out as well.

"Spy….something…er" he muttered, going back to the second clue, "Last thing to mend, middle of middle, end of the end…" he suddenly remembered something Luna had once said to him about Ancient Runes, about how the ancient's tended to write things in a very literal fashion. A wave of his wand pulled out a number of words, it fit. The last thing in the word mend was the letter "d" and it was the middle letter in "middle" and the last letter in "end." "Spy…d…er..." Harry turned to face his question posing adversary, "I would be unwilling to kiss a spider!"

The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass. "Thanks!" said Harry, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward. He had to be close now he had to be… His wand was telling him he was bang on course; as long as he didn't meet anything too horrible, he might have a chance… Harry broke into a run. He had a choice of paths up ahead. "Point Me!" he whispered again to his wand, and it spun around and pointed him to the right-hand one. He dashed up this one and saw light ahead.

The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. Suddenly a dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of him. Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup, and Harry knew he would never catch up, Cedric was much taller, had much longer legs -

Then Harry saw something immense over a hedge to his left, moving quickly along a path that intersected with his own; it was moving so fast Cedric was about to run into it, and Cedric, his eyes on the cup, had not seen it, "Cedric!" Harry bellowed, "Contact left!"

Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, he tripped. Harry saw Cedric's wand fly out of his hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Cedric.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled; the spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy black body, but for all the good it did, he might as well have thrown a stone at it; the spider jerked, scuttled around, and ran at Harry instead. "Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy Maximus!" However, it was no use - the spider was either so large, or so magical, that the spells were doing no more than aggravating it. Harry had one horrifying glimpse of eight shining black eyes and razor-sharp pincers before it was upon him.

He was lifted into the air in its front legs; struggling madly, he tried to kick it; his leg connected with the pincers and next moment he was in some pain. He could hear Cedric yelling "Stupefy!" too, but his spell had no more effect than Harry's did - Harry raised his wand, "Expelliarmus!"

It worked - the Disarming Spell made the spider drop him, but that meant that Harry fell twelve feet onto his already injured leg, which crumpled beneath him. Without pausing to think, he aimed high at the spider's underbelly, "Bombarda Maximus! Confringo Maximus! Lancera!" The spell chain was one of Flitwick's own designed to break cover, force the opponent in to the open, and then end a duel. The remains of the spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with bloody entrails.

"Harry!" he heard Cedric shouting. "You all right? Did it fall on you?"

"Yes and no." Harry called back, panting. He looked down at his leg. It was bleeding freely. He could see some thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers on the scratched dragon hide armor he had worn beneath his robes. He tried to get up, but his leg was shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. He leaned against the hedge, gasping for breath, and looked around as he cast a series of quick healing charms.

Cedric was standing feet from the Triwizard Cup, which was gleaming behind him. He set about dealing with his gashed leg just as Blake had taught him so recently. "Take it, then," Harry panted to Cedric. "Go on, take it. You're there."

Cedric did not move. He merely stood there, looking at Harry. Then he turned to stare at the cup. Harry saw the longing expression on his face in its golden light. Cedric looked around at Harry again, who was now holding onto the hedge as he healed the edges of the gash. Cedric took a deep breath, "You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."

"That's not how it's supposed to work," Harry said, "The one who reaches the cup first gets the points. That's you"

Cedric took a few paces nearer to the deceased spider, away from the cup, shaking his head, "No," he said.

"Stop being noble," said Harry irritably. "Just take it! Then we can both get the hell out of here."

Cedric stepped over the spiders tangled legs to join Harry, who stared at him. Cedric was serious. He was walking away from the sort of glory Hufflepuff House had not had in centuries. "Go on." He looked as though this was costing him every ounce of resolution he had, but his face was set, his arms were folded, he seemed decided. Harry looked from Cedric to the cup. For one shining moment, he saw himself emerging from the maze, holding it. He saw himself holding the Triwizard Cup aloft, heard the roar of the crowd, saw Hermione's face shining with admiration, more clearly than he had ever seen it before… and then the picture faded, and he found himself staring at Cedric's shadowy, stubborn face.

"Both of us," Harry said suddenly, "We'll take it at the same time. We'll tie for it."

Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms, "You - you sure?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah… we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together."

For a moment, Cedric looked as though he could not believe his ears; then his face split in a grin. "You're on," he said.

When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's gleaming handles, "On three, right?" said Harry. "One - two - three!" He and Cedric both grasped a handle.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself and Cedric standing on a raised dais, the stands filled with people cheering. The judges and the minister were seated behind a table just off to the side. Dumbledore was clapping politely as were the rest of the judges except for Karkaroff who had stormed angrily away. The minister was smiling and applauding as well and no doubt thinking of a way to turn the victory to his own advantage.

Cedric turned to stare at the crowd and Harry chose that moment to act, "You," he said to Cedric, "wanted in this tournament, and you wanted to win," Cedric blinked in confusion and turned to find that Harry had sidestepped off the podium leaving Cedric in first place. "Champion Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts!" shouted Harry, "Beat me to the cup by inches! Your Champion!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the winner of the 1994 Triwizard Tournament: Champion Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" The cheering in the stands reached a fever pitch. "To present the awards: Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge!" Minister Fudge stood and waved to the crowd as he walked up to Cedric, smiled and shook his hand. Then he cast a sonorous charm and turned to the crowd.

"As Minister for Magic of Britain, it is my duty to present Cedric Diggory with one thousand galleons," he said turning to Cedric as he placed the heavy bag in to Cedric's hands, and then pinned a heavy golden medal to Cedric's robes. Harry smiled from the sidelines, shaking his head as Cedric tried desperately to communicate with his eyes that Harry should be up here alongside him.

There was the clicking of a camera as Colin went to work, recording the event for posterity, until Cedric waved to Harry, "Come on up here!" called the Champion wearing a large smile, "Both of you!" Harry looked at 'mione and she shrugged: Why not?

Standing alongside Cedric, Harry helped him hoist the cup in to the air, his free arm wrapped around his girlfriend's waist. The three of them were all smiles.

"Mordsmorde!"

All hell broke loose as the sky overhead darkened. The clouds, twisted by magic formed the screaming skull with its black snake tongue. Voldemort's mark emblazoned across the skies. The medal pinned to Cedric's chest glowed a deep purple for an instant and then there was the familiar sensation of a hook behind the navel, the sound of rushing wind and the three were pulled from Hogwarts.

Then pandemonium ensured.