Chapter 267: "Into The Maze"

The crowd leaned forward as Harry stepped into the maze, his silhouette clear in the magical mirrors floating above the Quidditch pitch. The enchanted displays tracked his every move with eerie precision, giving the audience a front-row seat to the unfolding drama. The tension in the stadium was almost tangible—everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

"And he's off!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed across the stadium, crackling with excitement. "Hadrian Potter enters the maze with his usual calm! Look at him move, folks—like he's taking a casual stroll rather than entering a dangerous magical labyrinth!"

Harry's calm "Lumos" illuminated his path, and his steady pace drew murmurs of admiration from the stands. The golden light from his wand cast long shadows, emphasizing the dark and mysterious nature of the hedge-lined maze.

"Harry's not scared at all! And it's so dark in there," Aries marveled, bouncing in his seat. His wide eyes reflected the lights from the magical mirrors as he watched Harry's progress, his gaze intense and unwavering. Sirius, seated beside him, watched with trained eyes, noticing details others missed—the relaxed grip on Harry's wand, the way his gaze methodically scanned his surroundings.

Through the mirrors, the crowd saw Harry slip his hand into his pocket. "What's this?" Bagman's voice rose with feigned suspense. "Our champion seems to have found something! A clue, perhaps? Though I don't recall placing any…"

The audience held its breath as Harry unfolded a piece of parchment. His expression changed instantly, the calm demeanor replaced by something darker. Even those unfamiliar with Harry noticed the shift—his posture stiffened, and tension coiled in his shoulders like a spring.

Sirius straightened in his seat, his casual demeanor vanishing. "Something's wrong," he muttered to Amelia, his eyes narrowing in concern. "Look at his face."

Indeed, Harry's features had hardened into a mask of cold determination. The mirrors flickered slightly, as if reacting to the surge of barely-contained magic radiating off him. His jaw clenched, and his eyes, once calm and focused, were now sharp and filled with purpose.

"Mon Dieu," Apolline Delacour whispered, her hand over her heart. "What has upset him so?" Her eyes darted between the mirrors and her daughter, who was waiting to enter the maze, concern clear on her face.

A murmur rippled through the crowd as the excitement gave way to unease. The change in Harry's demeanor had not gone unnoticed, and it left a weight hanging over the spectators—a sense that something far more serious was happening.

"Well, well!" Bagman continued, seemingly oblivious to the shift. "Mr. Potter seems to have found something intriguing! Was it a clue or a clever trick by one of his fellow champions? We couldn't see what it said, but I suppose we'll find out soon enough!"

The tension broke as Harry started moving again, but this time with an urgency that hadn't been there before. His footsteps were quicker, his eyes darting to the shadows of the hedges as if searching for something—or someone.

Bagman's voice rang out with a touch of confusion. "And now… wait, what's he doing?"

The audience watched as Harry approached one of the towering hedges, resting his hand against its dark foliage.

"What's he playing at?" someone in the crowd whispered.

The answer came moments later as Harry began climbing the hedge. Startled laughter and murmurs of disbelief rippled through the stands.

"Would you look at that!" Bagman's voice was gleeful. "Mr. Potter trying to climb over the maze! It looks like he's eager to finish the task quickly—taking a shortcut! A novel approach, though I dare say the hedges won't appreciate it!"

As if on cue, the hedge came alive, its branches lashing out like angry snakes, forcing Harry back to the ground. Frustration flashed across Harry's face—he was in a hurry to finish the task before Fleur entered. He needed to keep an eye on her and neutralize the impostor Moody lurking somewhere. The hedge, however, wasn't cooperating. For a brief moment, he thought about summoning his sword and cutting the foliage to pieces.

But using excessive magic was not an option—not when he needed to conserve his strength for the battles ahead. Climbing over the maze was still his best shot at saving time, and he wasn't ready to give up.

Harry crouched and jumped, using the lashing branches as a boost to reach the top of the hedge.

"Merlin's beard!" Professor McGonagall gasped, her hand at her chest. "Such agility!"

From his vantage point atop the hedge, Harry could see the entire maze sprawling before him. He was just about to run along the hedge's edge when the enchanted foliage surged once more, tendrils twisting and grabbing at his legs, trying to pull him back down. Though the vines weren't hurting him, their determination to stop him was unmistakable.

"Extraordinary!" Bagman bellowed. "Mr. Potter demonstrating remarkable athleticism! But it seems the maze is intent on keeping our champion on its designated path!"

Sirius chuckled despite his growing concern. "That's my godson," he muttered proudly. "Always finding another way. First time I've seen his plans fail, though—it's almost funny."

Harry, realizing he was wasting precious time battling sentient hedges, jumped back to the ground. The parchment had clearly thrown him off balance, leaving him with scattered plans and bad ideas. Summoning his broom was out of the question—the hedges would block him. Burning them away would consume too much magic, and he couldn't afford to be drained before facing Voldemort. He felt cornered, unable to think clearly. There was one good option left, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to reveal it right now.

The mirrors captured him pausing, eyes narrowing as he considered his options. His gaze flickered skyward, a calculating look crossing his face. Sirius saw it and recognized the thought forming in Harry's mind.

"He's thinking of flying," Sirius murmured to Amelia, his eyes filled with understanding.

"But he won't," Amelia responded, her voice tense. "It'd raise too many questions."

Before Harry could decide, a bell echoed across the stadium. "And now, it's time for our second champion to enter!" Bagman's voice announced cheerily. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Fleur stood poised at the maze entrance, her silver hair glimmering in the fading light. "Bonne chance, ma fille!" Monsieur Delacour called out, his voice carrying a mix of pride and concern as the crowd applauded.

Inside the maze, Harry stiffened. They were sending Fleur in already? It had barely been a few minutes since he'd entered. His plan to finish the task and end this before things got risky was slipping through his fingers.

He shifted his priorities. Now, he had to find Fleur or intercept the impostor before anything happened. Protect Fleur or eliminate the threat—that was the mission now.

"And Mr. Potter is on the move again!" Bagman called out, trying to inject excitement. "Seems he's decided to stick to the traditional way of navigating a maze after all!"

"Something's definitely wrong," Sirius murmured, his eyes narrowing. Every line of Harry's body radiated danger, and years of watching his godson had taught him to recognize when things were about to go south.

In the maze, Harry moved with renewed determination, every step precise and calculated. Unbeknownst to the crowd, this was no longer a tournament task. It was a race against time, against a trap closing in from all sides.