Harry whiled away the entire afternoon by himself, what he called clearing his head by doing a whole lot of nothing, and only later, when it was past four o'clock, did he find Ron and Hermione.
The two Gryffindors saw nothing amiss about his sudden disappearance. It must be said that this Boy Who Lived was a stark contrast to the naive, canonical boy from the original story. Especially when it came to fooling others, Harry was pretty much a master at pretending now, showing a perfectly played hint of nervousness expected of a champion.
The three of them found an empty classroom next, where Hermione and Ron helped Harry go over everything one last time. Just spells and props, making sure nothing was missed. There was no pressure, there was no time for practice anyway, and besides, it was only Harry who had to take the stage this round.
Though what exactly the final task would be had not been revealed, that much at least had been made clear a few days ago. Not even getting kidnapped and needing to be rescued by the champions was an option.
Still, that did not mean they could not help. Harry did not really need it, but he listened anyway, letting them talk it through. A few of Hermione's suggestions, like the spells for scouting and disguise were actually pretty good, good enough to keep in mind.
Time crept by slowly. The evening feast, which usually began at six o'clock, started at five today because of the third task later after sunset. When the trio arrived at the Great Hall for dinner, they noticed a number of new faces and fewer of the usual ones seated at the staff table.
People they recognized and people they did not were there. Officials, presumably, from the way they were dressed, they looked important. The Ministers from the three participating schools' respective countries were present, the only three foreign faces they could recognize, sitting alongside the three Headmasters.
Harry separated from Ron and Hermione and made his way to the champions' table under the constant looks from his schoolmates. There were a lot of "good luck" and "best of luck, mate" coming from all sides, some standing to high-five him, others giving him jabs to the shoulder, and he smiled humbly, nodding to everyone.
It was pretty nice, but he did not let the fame and all that praise get to his head. It was not just advanced magical training he had learned from his one-on-one sessions with Maverick, but much more, mainly how not to grow up into a complete moron.
Anyways, it appeared he was the last champion to join. Only Cedric stood up, greeted him with a firm handshake, and had him sit down next to him. Fleur gave him a small smile, while the rest did not even make eye contact. They seemed too busy, or rather, they did not look like they had much of an appetite, looking very nervous. Understandable.
He, on the other hand, didn't know why, but he didn't feel that nervous. Well, a little, but not even as much as before the last two rounds, and those times he didn't even have to carry out some super secret, dangerous mission.
It could be because this time he knew exactly what he was facing. Even if that very thing was outrageous, he still knew, and that was what made him feel a lot calmer. Or… it could simply be the inner Gryffindor in him, who knew.
After filling his plate, he turned to the hightable again, looking to see if someone was also there but found no sign of his Professor Caesar. In fact, apart from Dumbledore and McGonagall, oh, and Filch standing at the back corner, no one else from the Hogwarts staff was there. They all must be near the Quidditch field, he figured.
He devoured the meal in no time and even found a moment for some small talk, helping Cedric settle his nerves a little. Fleur joined in later as well, and… it seems this unreasonably alluring witch and the pretty boy had something going on. So the Yule Ball wasn't the end of their little scandal? Interesting, he mused. A thought for later.
Time passed without anyone really noticing, and before long, dusk had settled outside. The great hall was almost empty now, the students, after finishing their meal, had already made their way to the event grounds outside.
Only the six champions remained, waiting quietly for their signal, and at last their time also soon arrived. Headmaster Dumbledore stood, drawing their attention.
"Children," the old wizard began gently, his voice carrying with calm ease, "on behalf of all of us, I wish you success this evening. Whatever the outcome may be, remember that each of you is an exceptional witch or wizard. I have no doubt that you will go on to leave your own mark upon this remarkable world of ours."
His eyes twinkled as he smiled, letting his gaze rest on each of them in turn. Had Harry known any better, he might have thought the Headmaster's words were entirely sincere. The old man had a way of convincing people with nothing more than those twinkling eyes of his.
This was perhaps the first time he knew beforehand that something else was also unfolding behind the scenes. Which begs the question... Harry pondered subconsciously as he listened.
During his first three years, all those incidents he had simply, coincidentally, stumbled into… were they really just coincidences? Or… had the Headmaster known far more from the start, was he the one pulling the strings, and had Harry been playing his part all along, like a puppet without ever realizing it?
Like the incident with Quirrell in his first year. Back then, he had no idea what an archmage was, but now… did Dumbledore really not know that the Dark Lord was possessing him?
And… he tried to think, but then nothing else came to mind. His second and third years, well, they had gone pretty smoothly hadn't they? At least by Hogwarts standards.
Indeed. Thanks to Maverick, though Harry had no idea, he had been spared many of those "coincidences." The kind the old bat had once spoken of when describing his life at Hogwarts in the original story, raised like a pig for slaughter.
First and foremost, Harry was spared the Dursleys' unreasonable treatment. In his second year, Maverick had taken care of Lockhart himself, and then old Voldy's diary was destroyed before it could set anything else in motion.
Then, in the third year, everything surrounding Sirius Black had been completely different as well, so Harry, at least in his second and third years, had lived a life entirely unlike the one from the original story.
Hmm… I must be overthinking. The Headmaster can't possibly be that kind of person.
Harry pushed the thought aside as soon as it came, never realizing how close he was to uncovering the biggest pyramid schemer in the world.
Dumbledore's speech was brief, nothing more than a few words of encouragement for the champions before he brought it to a close.
"…now, will the champions please follow Mr. Amos Diggory outside to the champions' tent."
---
At the same time, outside near the Quidditch pitch, or rather where it once stood, a familiar scene was unfolding, much like before the last two tasks. People arrived in steady waves, were screened at the entrance, and then guided toward their stands.
There appeared to be far more people in uniform than during the previous two tasks though, easily twice as many, perhaps because it was already past dusk. At least twice as many were posted at each Floo point and across the main arrival areas where guests were being brought in by other means, all watching with hawk-like focus as the steady flow of people moved toward the stands.
That said, though it was past sunset, the grounds were well lit, and with so many staff directing the crowd, everything moved in an orderly way. There was no confusion or pushing, and no one seemed to have trouble finding their way to the stands.
And speaking of, the stands also looked very different this time. Instead of forming a circle, they had been set in a long stretch along one side, rising in stacked rows that climbed higher and higher, reaching nearly a hundred meters. They had to, because the Quidditch pitch itself was no longer there.
In its place stood the challenge field for the Third Task. A vast stretch of land now filled the grounds, easily several times larger than the old pitch. Where there had once been open sky and goal posts, there now rose towering hedges, nearly twenty meters tall, forming a massive maze that took over everything.
From above, it looked like a giant green beast curled in on itself, but it was still possible to catch movement within, otherwise, what was the point of having a live viewing stand setup?
And just like the previous two tasks, large screens hung in the air at the front, showing different corners of the maze, narrow paths, and dead ends. Every now and then, the feeds would change, drawing the crowd's attention from one part of the maze to another, making it feel as if the entire thing was alive and watching back.
A sense of excitement filled the air. Near the entrance of the maze stood the champions' tent, and the champions had just walked in, followed by Mr. Amos Diggory. Their faces appeared up close on the large screens, each one showing a hint of nerves.
The crowd erupted at once, names shouted from every side, until the noise settled again when the champions disappeared from view.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the commentator's voice rang out across the grounds, bright with excitement. "The final event of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin. The rules are simple. At the very heart of the maze stands the Triwizard Cup, and the task before our champions is to reach it. Sounds simple enough… doesn't it?"
He paused, an excited chuckle slipping into his voice. "Yes… that is, if you do not consider the many, many… dangerous… magical creatures waiting inside the maze..."
As soon as he finished speaking, the large screens also flickered right on cue, each one cutting to a different corner of the field.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. On the screens, glimpses of what lay within the maze appeared, a Blast-Ended Skrewt skittering along a narrow path, a Boggart flickering in and out of shape in the shadows, a hulking Acromantula crouched between the hedges, and the distant, slow movement of something far larger, unseen but very much present.
"Merlin's beard… is that a bloody Acromantula…?"
"What's so surprising about that? We faced a dragon in the previous round," Hermione said to Ron, frowning as she too watched the feed. Though her words were meant to reassure, she could not help but clutch at her own skirt.
How she wished she and Ron could be out there with Harry. Unfortunately, this time he would be on his own. All she could do was pray that nothing would go wrong, and that Harry would be the first to reach the cup.
"Yeah… but that's a spider. It looks like it's even bigger than me..."
This time, she could not help but roll her eyes at her friend's overreaction. Which was more dangerous, a dragon or a spider? Then again, how was she supposed to know that her ginger-headed friend's worst nightmare was being eaten alive by spiders?
Near them were their families, her own among them, and the Weasleys, all of them. The noise was so loud they had to practically shout to be heard. The atmosphere felt alive.
She looked around again, but could not spot Sirius anywhere. She had asked Ron's parents too, and they had not seen him either. Still, she was sure he would be here. Sirius would not miss Harry's moment, right?
"…and as if finding the right path wasn't enough, as you can see, our champions will also have to face some very nasty challenges along the way! Of course, with a bit of luck, they might manage to avoid them… but that's a lot of luck were talking about..."
The announcement carried on with bright excitement, as if he were not describing a group of teenagers about to fight their way through a maze filled with dangerous, man-eating magical creatures. "And if, by any chance, our champions happen to cross paths with one another, they are permitted to engage in a duel, of course within the bounds of the rules, no use of the Unforgivable Curses... should a champion be subdued or captured by another, they will be immediately disqualified."
"Moreover, in this round there are no second chances. The moment a champion requires rescue, from the very first intervention, they are immediately disqualified. So the stakes are very high, ladies and gentlemen."
He paused, letting the crowd take it in, then went on, "And finally, let's talk about the order of entry. The rules here are also simple. The champion with the highest score so far will enter first, then the others will follow at two-minute intervals, until the last champion enters ten minutes after the first…"
"It's a fair arrangement, if I do say so myself. You get what you worked for, right, folks?"
And the audience cheered loudly, clearly agreeing with him. After all, in this round there was no scoring system, the winner would simply be the first one to reach the prize. Otherwise, the points from the previous two rounds would have meant nothing.
"Thank Merlin… at least Harry will have the biggest advantage…"
"Not just Harry, Hogwarts. Don't forget Cedric's in second place…"
"We've got this in the bag then… great…"
"Hey, hey, are you forgetting about those creatures? Even if Harry and that pretty boy have the advantage, they still have to face them. And since they're the first to enter, won't they run into them first too…?"
The Hogwarts students murmured among themselves, some cheering, some worried, and some thinking it through a bit more carefully.
And not just them. Across the stands, and even beyond, where magical screens carried the view, the same thoughts spread. The so-called advantage did not seem like much now. In the end, it would come down to their wits and their skill.
The announcement of the rules went on for about five minutes or so, the majority of the crowd was simply hyped up and electrified to watch a thrilling performance on screen. Betting was happening everywhere, official and non-official, most just wanted to have a great time.
Then, finally, "And now… we invite the acting Head of Magical Sports of the British Ministry of Magic, Mr. Amos Diggory, to bring the champions before the maze entrance…"
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