Harry opened his eyes, confused, and his first move was to reach for his wand. Darkness surrounded him on every side, and he had no idea where he was.
"Lumos."
Sweeping the wand slowly around himself, he realized he was in a forest. Very large, tall trees surrounded him, and the wind rustled the leaves in an unpleasant whisper that swelled at times, heightening the panic rising in Harry's chest.
When nothing happened for a few moments, Harry calmed himself and tried to slow his racing heart. It occurred to him that creating such uncertainty and fear was part of the task. He did not know what his task was. So he did what anyone would do. He moved forward into the forest. After a few steps through thickets which luckily, could not tear the special outfit made from basilisk remains, Harry emerged onto a worn path. Looking left and right, he saw nothing of interest, but he decided to use the spell "Point Me" to head more toward the north.
Following the wand directions, Harry took careful steps along the narrow trail. His boots sank into soft earth, and every crunch of leaves felt loud in the stillness. He looked up to see moonlight seeped through the gaps , painting silver patches on the ground. He kept his wand raised, the glow dancing on gnarled roots and mossy stones.
"Where are the others..?"
Harry hoped he'd run into one of the champions sooner rather than later. Though, honestly, he wasn't sure what kind of welcome he'd get. Krum, for one, treated the tournament like pure competition. For the older students, it was all about winning. For Harry, it was just about surviving.
With a quiet sigh, he kept walking. For the next few hundred meters he followed the worn path, until something up ahead made his stomach twist. A dead animal lay in the center of the trail, and hunched over it was a wolf.
Harry froze.
He lowered his wand slowly, but the damage had already been done. The light from his wand fell across the creature. The wolf lifted its head. Blood dripped scarlet from its jaw. Its eyes burned with an eerie green glow, and its fur… the edges of its body seemed to melt and drip onto the ground like wax.
Harry stared. He had never seen anything like it.
Before he could make sense of what he was seeing, the wolf growled low, turned its whole body toward him, and charged. The sound that ripped from its throat wasn't natural. It was hungry. Violent.
Harry took several quick steps back to create distance, narrowing his eyes. The wolf was fast. But like any animal, it was probably afraid of one thing.
"Incendio!"
A stream of fire shot from Harry's wand and hit the wolf head-on. It howled in pain and stumbled back. Harry lowered his wand slightly but kept it forward, making sure the light still hit the wolf. Losing his light source now would be the worst possible thing. The wolf's skin started to glow, like the fire had only made its awful condition worse. Was this some kind of corruption?
The wild animal attacked again, leaping so high it was suddenly right above him. Harry's eyes went wide. What kind of creature was this?
"Depulso!" he shouted.
The spell slammed into the wolf, throwing it sideways into the trunk of a tree. It hit with a loud noise and slid down.
Harry moved carefully toward the carcass. He raised his wand higher, the light trembling slightly as he stepped closer.
It was a deer, or something close to it, though its shape was wrong. Its legs were too thin, and its eyes were wide open, glassy, and almost human in how lifeless they looked. The stomach was torn open, ribs cracked apart, and something wet and pale glistened in the mud beneath it.
Harry's gut twisted. He clamped a hand over his mouth and turned away, swallowing hard. The smell, now stronger than ever, burned his nose and made his eyes water. He took a few shaky steps farther down the path, blinking back the nausea.
"I don't know what's going on here, but it looks like I'll have to find out.."
He had no idea how long he'd been walking, but by the time he finally found something that felt even remotely "normal" in this twisted world. He'd come across a river. It wasn't very deep, so crossing it wouldn't be a problem, but now he had a new question. What next?
The forest lay behind him, higher up. The last four kilometers had been spent travelling down a steep hill, and now that he'd stopped, he realized how sore his body really was. His stomach growled.
Great.
He looked into the river. A few small fish darted between rocks, flashes of silver in the clear water. There was food right there, but he had no idea how to catch it. No net, no spell for fishing… nothing. So that's a life without house-elf?
Harry knelt and cupped his hands into the cold water, splashing his face. It helped.
Looks like Harry would have to rely on some ancient knowledge he picked up completely by accident. There was one day, just one, when the Dursleys left him home alone and didn't lock him in the cupboard under the stairs. He spent the whole day watching television and eating sweets. The most interesting part for him was the documentaries. There were loads of survival tips, and now he could actually put some of them to use.
Harry glanced around for a good spot, something flat and dry. A patch of dirt a few meters from the riverbank looked good enough. He walked over.
"Scourgify."
The spell cleared away leaves, twigs, and bits of mud, leaving a clean circle of ground. Better. He knelt and ran his hand across it, then stood again and went looking for stones.
There were plenty along the river. He grabbed the ones that looked the right size. Not too heavy, rounder if possible and carried them back in batches. After a few minutes, he had a decent pile.
He placed the first few in a rough ring, adjusting the gaps and spacing until it looked solid. Then he added a second layer, leaning the stones inward a little so they'd hold better. Not perfect, but it'd do.
The fire pit was taking shape. All he needed now was something to burn. He started searching for dry sticks, snapping off dead branches low to the ground and bundling them under one arm. Once he had enough, he crouched, laid the twigs in a crisscross pattern, and held his wand just above them.
"Incendio."
The twigs caught fire easily. The warmth hit him immediately, a small comfort in the chill air. He crouched and held his hands close for a moment, letting the heat soak in.
But the wind had other plans. A cold gust came rolling in off the river. The flames bent sideways, hissing and shrinking. Great. If he didn't fix this, the fire would burn out in minutes.
He stood and scanned the area. Nothing nearby looked promising. No thick bushes. No walls. But there, half-covered in moss and weeds, was a massive stone, lodged near the water. Heavy. Solid. His mind flashed back to that day with Hermione and Ron, practicing transfiguration in the empty classroom. Lapidorus lignum. It wasn't meant for big things. But maybe it could be.
He angled his wand, took his stance.
"Lapidorus lignum." Press. Twist. Lift.
Magic surged into the stone. At first, nothing happened. The boulder pulsed once, then its surface began to warp. Color drained from it, replaced by dull brown. The stone broke along its surface, splintering not with noise but with a soft groan.
Sweat broke out along Harry's brow. He bit down, focused harder, pushing through the resistance in the spell. After a minute of dragging it forward with sheer will, the shape solidified. A thick wooden slab, tall enough to use as a windbreak, curved slightly like a tree cut down the middle. A narrow base with angled legs had formed near the bottom.
Harry panted, chest rising and falling. That had taken more out of him than he expected.
One more thing.
He turned toward the remaining chunk of the transfigured stone. This time, smaller.
He repeated the movement again, slower now, aiming for something about the size of a stool. It took less energy, and soon he had a sturdy wooden seat with short legs and a slightly crooked backrest. Harry eyed it with satisfaction. It looked like something Hagrid might've built, but it would hold.
He levitated the slab into place near the fire pit, using Wingardium Leviosa to set it carefully between the flames and the river breeze. Then he planted the legs deep in the soil and pressed down on the top to test it. It held.
Finally, he sat. The chair creaked a little under his weight, but didn't budge.
Not bad, he thought, staring at the fire dancing stronger now that the wind was blocked. Not bad at all.
~ ~ ~
Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes, watching the screen thoughtfully.
"Unbelievable," she muttered. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter. Excellent work. I didn't know you had that in you."
Dumbledore glanced sideways at her, lips curling just slightly at the corners.
The man from the Department of Mysteries stepped up beside them.
"Is Mr Potter currently apprenticed under a transfiguration master?" he asked.
Dumbledore answered. "Harry is in his fourth year."
"That spell," man said slowly. "Lapidorus Lignum. It's a mid-tier environmental charm. Meant for quick structures. Temporary. I've never seen it used at that scale. It's not supposed to work on stone that large."
"Because it doesn't," McGonagall said flatly. "Even in fifth year, we only cover theoretical permanent transmutations. Stone to wood at that mass? It's not just difficult. It's ridiculous."
The man glanced at her. "And yet… he did it."
Dumbledore's hands folded calmly behind his back. "He used what he knew to get what he needed. That's all magic ever is."
"Not quite," the man said. He leaned forward a little. "So tell me… do you think he cast with will?"
Dumbledore turned his head, slowly. "I haven't heard that term in years."
McGonagall gave a long look. "Will casting?"
The man didn't blink. "It's rare. Very rare. Most wizards never touch it. It's when the spell becomes secondary. When you stop relying on incantation and form. When your magic answers you directly because your will leaves it no choice."
He paused.
"It doesn't care if the wand movement was perfect. Or if the Latin was correct. You want something badly enough, you force the world to bend. It works… if you have enough magic. And if you're willing to burn through yourself to make it happen."
McGonagall stared at the screen.
"And you think Potter…"
"I don't know what I think," the man interrupted. "But the spell he used was never meant to do that. And it did."
Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a long moment.
"We've watched that boy survive things that should have broken him. Maybe we've all been assuming he made it through by accident." He tilted his head slightly. "Maybe not."
The man's eyes didn't leave the screen.
"I'd like to offer him mentorship," he said. "When this tournament ends, of course. A formal apprenticeship with the Department of Mysteries."
McGonagall turned to him sharply. "You're serious."
"We don't take students often. But Potter is something else. Raw talent like that, paired with instinct and will? It's rare. Unpredictable." He glanced at her. "It needs guidance. Control."
Dumbledore studied the man carefully. "And if he says no?"
"Then he says no," the man replied without hesitation. "But we'll make the offer. We'd be fools not to."
~ ~ ~
The fish was surprisingly good. A little bland, sure, but hot and fresh, and after hours of walking and fighting and building, it tasted like the best thing he'd ever eaten.
Harry sat cross-legged on the ground, chewing slowly, eyes half-closed. The wooden stick he'd used as a spit was angled just right over the fire, propped between two forked branches he'd shaped earlier with a quick "Diffindo" and a lot of trial and error. Turning the fish had been awkward at first, but it cooked evenly once he got the hang of it.
Time to move.
Harry brushed crumbs off his lap and stood up with a quiet groan.
"Aguamenti."
A quick burst of water hissed against the remaining embers, steam rising as the flames vanished. He kicked a bit of loose dirt over the wet ashes for good measure.
He stepped down to the river's edge and crouched again, cupping his hands to drink. Then, carefully, he crossed to the other side, boots slipping slightly on the slick rocks underfoot.
Ahead, the terrain offered him two choices. One narrow trail began to rise sharply into the hills, disappearing between the trees. The other hugged the water's edge weaving through brush and wild grass.
Climbing meant effort, maybe a better view. But staying close to the river felt safer. He turned left and followed the water.
For nearly two hours, he walked beside the river, ducking under branches and stepping over mossy roots. Still, the sound of flowing water kept him company.
It grew louder, deeper, like the river had found something to crash into. Harry pushed through the last bit of brush and found himself standing at the top of a cliff. Below him, the river dropped in a silver-white sheet. A massive waterfall roared into the valley below.
He stepped closer to the edge.
Nestled at the bottom of the hill, tucked into the valley's cradle, was a village. It looked old. A round stone building stood at its center, smooth-roofed and pale, surrounded by smaller homes arranged in neat rings. Trees lined the far side, and patches of green stretched outward into the woods. There were ponds scattered near the edges, reflecting the sky like glass.
It was beautiful. Too beautiful.
Harry squinted. He scanned the horizon for any sign of movement, any hint of life. Smoke? People? Nothing.
Harry didn't realize how tense he was until the sound of footsteps made him spin around, wand half-raised.
"Harry?" a voice called out.
Viktor Krum stepped into view, brushing past a curtain of leaves, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He looked tired, dirt on his robes and a rip near the shoulder. But he was smiling, almost sheepishly.
"I saw smoke," Krum said, nodding back toward the forest. "Thought maybe someone else was nearby. I was right."
Harry lowered his wand and let out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.
"Merlin, I'm actually glad to see you," he said honestly. "I've been alone since it started."
Krum chuckled. "Same here. Woke up by a river. No idea which way to go. You've made it pretty far."
Harry stepped aside so Krum could come forward. "Made camp, caught some fish, now just… trying to figure out where to go next."
Krum moved beside him, eyes fixed on the village below. "You think that's the goal? The task's answer, maybe?"
Harry shrugged. "No idea. But it feels… important. It's the first real structure I've seen. Before this, it was just forest and hills."
Krum nodded slowly. "You say you made camp. Here?"
"Not far," Harry replied. "By the river. Built a pit, caught a fish. There's plenty of clean water. It's not a bad spot, actually."
Krum turned to him, face unreadable for a second before he gave a short nod. "Smart. You used magic for it?"
"Some," Harry admitted, almost sheepishly. "Had to get creative. Transfigured stone into wood. Made a wind break. Stuff like that."
For a moment, Krum just stood there, taking it in. "You transfigured stone?"
Harry nodded. Krum tilted his head. "Which spell?"
"Lapidorus lignum. Temporary transfiguration, not perfect, but enough."
Krum's eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile stayed. "You really prepared, huh?"
"I tried. Didn't know what we'd find in here, but figured anything could help."
Krum gave a low chuckle. "Is good thinking. Many would panic. But not you."
He glanced back toward the edge of the cliff again, then down at the village like he was considering something.
"How long have you been up here?" he asked.
"Half an hour? I was just deciding what to do next when you showed up."
Krum nodded again and clasped his hands behind his back.
"You said there's a good spot to rest, yes? By the river?"
Harry blinked. "Yeah. Why?"
"Just curious," Krum said smoothly. "If we get separated again. Good to know the path back."
Harry smiled. "Yeah. Makes sense."
But something about Krum's eyes didn't quite match his voice. They were focused. Measuring. Like he wasn't just hearing the answers, but filing them away with precision.
"Did you run into anything?" Harry asked. "Animals, I mean."
Krum raised an eyebrow. "No. Why?"
"I had to fight a wolf last night," Harry explained, frowning at the memory. "It wasn't normal. Its body looked… wrong. Like it was melting or something. Its eyes were glowing green, and when I hit it with fire, it only got worse."
"Yeah?"
"It could've just been the dark playing tricks on me," Harry added quickly. "But it felt off. Like something was wrong with this whole place."
Krum took a few slow steps back.
Harry tilted his head, confused. "What?"
For a moment, Krum just stood there, looking at him. Then his lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Thank you for telling me," he said calmly. "That was very useful information."
Before Harry could respond, Krum's wand was out, aimed straight at him. His eyes were colder now, distant. There was no trace of friendliness left.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, stunned.
Krum laughed, cruel and sharp. "It's a competition, Potter. I can't believe you're still this naive."
Harry barely had time to react.
"Confringo."
The blast hit Harry square in the chest and launched him backward like a ragdoll. The cliff edge disappeared from beneath his boots, and he felt the sick lurch of falling, limbs flailing through open air.
Wind roared in his ears, and then the water wall caught him like a punch to the ribs. His body folded, pain screamed across his side, and the world went white. Cold slammed into him from all directions, pressure crushing his lungs, spinning him over and over as the waterfall dragged him down like a monster with claws.
His legs kicked blindly, his arm thrashed upward, searching for the surface. Something sharp raked his shin. Harry twisted, turned, kicked again. The water wasn't just cold, it was alive, pounding against him, dragging him deeper every time he tried to rise. He burst out for a split second, gasping, eyes wide, and looked up. Krum stood at the edge of the cliff with that smug, satisfied grin that made Harry's blood burn hotter than the pain in his shoulder.
But before Harry could do anything else, the current yanked him straight down. He plunged deep, slammed into the colder, heavier part of the river.
It felt like his eardrums were about to burst. Harry managed to twist and claw his way to the surface. He broke through, coughing hard, dragging in a single breath but the moment his head cleared the water, the river struck again. The current tore him sideways, slammed him into a jagged rock that clipped his ribs, then dragged him under. Another rock scraped his leg, then his arm. He flipped, hit bottom, and bounced off. It wasn't swimming anymore. It was surviving.
~ ~ ~
Hermione's hands were clamped over her mouth. Her eyes didn't move from the floating screen above the Goblet, locked onto the blurry shape thrashing in the river.
A massive rock, sharp and dark, jutted out of the river ahead of him like a knife waiting in the current.
"No," Hermione whispered, her voice trembling.. "No, no, no…"
They watched helplessly as Harry was flung sideways by the force of the current, spinning toward the rock. He slammed into it with a sickening crunch, his head snapping back before his body rolled off the side and floated limp into the deeper stream.
He was gone.