The courtyard behind the greenhouses was empty.
That alone made it ideal.
Harry stood barefoot on the cold stone, eyes closed, breathing slow and even. He had shed his robes in favour of simple clothes, sleeves rolled to the elbow, skin exposed to the wind. Somewhere in the distance, Hogwarts moved on, classes changing, voices echoing faintly, but here, there was only space.
And intention.
He reached, not with a wand, not with words, but with will.
The air shifted.
It was subtle at first, like a change in pressure before a storm. Then the wind curled inward, gathering around him in a loose spiral. Leaves lifted from the ground, circling his feet without touching them.
Harry opened his eyes.
He extended one hand.
The wind obeyed.
Not violently. Not eagerly. It responded the way Pandora had taught him, like something alive, cautious, aware of balance. He lowered his hand, and the wind stilled.
His heart pounded.
"Alright," he murmured. "Water."
He turned toward the fountain at the courtyard's edge. The surface trembled as he focused, ripples spreading outward in perfect symmetry. Slowly, impossibly, the water rose, arching into the air like a living sculpture before settling gently back into the basin.
No wand.
No incantation.
Magic as instinct.
Fire came next, only a spark, coaxed from friction and intent, dancing briefly between his fingers before he extinguished it. Earth followed, stone shifting beneath his bare feet, grounding him, steady and solid.
Harry exhaled, knees weakening slightly.
He was shaking.
Not from fear, but from restraint.
Sirius laughed first.
A sharp, disbelieving bark of sound that broke the tension in Dumbledore's office later that afternoon. "Merlin's beard," he said, running a hand through his hair. "You see that, Moony? The kid's gone and become a walking legend."
Remus did not smile immediately.
He sat very still, eyes thoughtful behind his worn spectacles. "It's not the power," he said quietly. "It's the control."
Sirius sobered. "Yeah."
Then, more softly, "They looked good. James and Lily."
Harry's chest tightened.
"They were," he said. "Happy."
Remus swallowed. "I'm glad you had that," he said. "Truly."
There was a pause.
"And Death?" Sirius asked carefully.
Harry met his gaze. "Not what we were taught to fear."
Remus nodded slowly. "That tracks."
He leaned forward slightly. "Harry… other worlds. If what Eywa and Death suggested is true, then you may one day carry knowledge from places untouched by our laws."
Sirius grinned faintly. "Blimey. Imagine the Ministry's faces."
Harry smiled, just a little. "I don't think it's about power," he said. "I think it's about understanding."
Remus's eyes warmed. "Then you'll be alright."
The champions' families gathered on the morning of the Third Task.
Mrs Weasley hugged Harry so fiercely he nearly lost his breath. "You be careful," she said, eyes shining. "No matter what happens, you remember, you're loved."
Bill clasped Harry's forearm, gaze sharp and approving. "You've got half of Gringotts taking bets on you," he said dryly. "Don't disappoint."
Sirius stood nearby, unapologetically proud. Remus offered a quiet nod, steady as always.
Across the grounds, Fleur's mother watched Harry with new wariness, respect edged with uncertainty. Krum's father inclined his head gravely. Cedric's parents smiled warmly, offering encouragement without envy.
Harry felt their eyes on him.
Not as a boy.
But as something tested.
As the maze loomed in the distance, hedges towering and alive, Harry drew a steadying breath.
Whatever awaited him inside, he would meet it whole.