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Discovering that someone was stealing their prize, the Merpeople guards erupted with fury. They let out ear-splitting shrieks, abandoned their loose defensive perimeter, and surged madly toward the three intruders.
Spell-light and bubbles filled the water at once. A chaotic vortex churned across the lake floor.
Harry watched it all from the side, and realized, with a start, that the ferocious Merpeople were completely ignoring him.
Several brushed right past him, as if he were nothing but a clump of harmless waterweed.
Snape's potion.
The thought hit him like a flash.
No wonder Snape had specifically emphasized the improved effects last night. Apparently the improvement also came with a Merpeople repellent function.
Not the time to think about it.
Harry seized the moment while the Merpeople were all swarming toward Fleur and Cedric, and dove hard toward the hostages.
He passed through the chaotic battlefield without resistance. The Merpeople guards treated him as if he didn't exist.
He reached Draco quickly, drew his wand, and whispered a Severing Charm. The waterweeds binding her fell away. He caught her unconscious form and started swimming upward.
After a few meters, he glanced back at the battle still raging below.
Then he thought of Krum's sneak attack.
He couldn't just let that go.
A glint of cunning crossed Harry's face. He gave Draco a gentle push toward the surface, turned sharply, and dove back down.
His target was obvious: Krum's hostage.
He slipped through the fighting again without a single Merpeople glancing his way, reached the sunken captive, scooped him up while Krum was still frozen, and swam with everything he had toward the surface.
You want to screw us over? Let's see you finish the task now.
Satisfaction burned in his chest.
SPLASH. Harry broke the surface with both people, gasping.
Almost at the same moment, Cedric and Fleur surfaced nearby, bedraggled, each with their own target in tow.
The judges on the high platform began checking times immediately.
"Cedric Diggory — hostage successfully rescued. Time: fifty minutes!"
"Fleur Delacour — hostage successfully rescued. Time: fifty-one minutes!"
"Harry Potter — hostage successfully rescued... er... two hostages? Time: fifty minutes!"
A moment later, several staff members hauled Viktor Krum up from the lake floor, working together to drag him out.
The petrification lifted the instant he hit air. He coughed violently, looked around in blank confusion, and then he saw his hostage already standing on the bank.
His face went the color of ash.
"Viktor Krum, failed to rescue the hostage. Time expired." A trace of sympathy edged the judge's voice. "By the rules, Krum is eliminated!"
Krum: "..."
On the shore, Hermione watched and shook her head slightly.
If you want to play strategic games and screw people over, you need the absolute strength to back it up. With one move, Krum had managed to offend Harry, Fleur, and Cedric simultaneously. Getting targeted and eliminated by all three, well. He'd made his bed.
Krum's expression was ugly, but he didn't complain.
He gave Harry one long, measuring look. Then his gaze shifted up to Hermione on the platform. He shook the water from his hair with a practiced toss, angled himself in her direction, raised an eyebrow, and flashed what he clearly believed was a devastating smile.
Hermione: "..."
A full-body shudder.
Around that time, the rescued hostages began coming around.
Draco stirred slowly. The moment her eyes opened, she found herself half-cradled in Harry's arms, with a crowd pressing in around them.
Her face went red.
"Harry!" Ginny came sprinting over with a dry towel, arm already outstretched to drape it over him, and then she saw it. Harry, looking down at the flush-faced girl in his arms.
Ginny stopped dead.
The smile on her face went rigid. The color drained from her cheeks, slowly, like water from a cracked glass.
She went pale.
She stood there staring at the two of them, the noise around her receding, pulling away until all that remained was the single image in front of her, bright and unbearable.
I was here first. Whether it was meeting him, or...
Not far away, Snape's gaze cut across the scene like a blade, locked onto Harry and Draco, his expression as dark as the bottom of a cauldron.
His face went black.
Ron caught the look on his sister's face, utterly hollowed out, and then looked at Harry gazing down at Malfoy's sister with that expression of concern. Rage ignited in his chest.
His face went green.
For a moment, the atmosphere by the lake was exquisitely, painfully awkward.
---
That night, in an empty, abandoned classroom.
Snape, Hermione, and Harry gathered together.
"The third task, also the final one," Hermione said, breaking the silence first. "No complicated puzzles this time. It's a massive maze. Work through it, get past the obstacles and magical creatures inside, and whoever reaches the center first and takes the Triwizard Cup wins."
She paused. "Simply put: raw ability and a bit of luck. Some of what's in that maze will be genuinely dangerous for you."
Snape's face was dark. He spoke, which was unusual, and when he did, there was something almost imperceptibly hesitant in his voice.
"Potter. You have already proven yourself by reaching this point. Hogwarts still has Cedric. If you feel the final task is too dangerous and you choose to withdraw, that would not be unacceptable."
Harry stared at him.
It was the first time he had ever heard anything resembling concern come out of Snape's mouth. The tone was still as rigid as stone. But still.
"No, Professor." Harry raised his head. His eyes were steady. "I'm competing to the end."
Hermione nodded, entirely unsurprised. "Then let me teach you the spell best suited for the third task."
She raised her hand lightly.
A serpent of fire erupted into existence, ferocious and coiling, slithering around her body in slow loops. It breathed out searing heat and an aura of pure destruction, and its glow painted the entire classroom in shades of orange and red.
Snape's face darkened further.
"The spell you consider most suitable is Fiendfyre."
He should have known better than to expect anything reasonable from her.
"Obviously." Hermione looked entirely matter-of-fact. "Think about it, a massive plant maze, all those twists and turns, what a hassle. One blast of Fiendfyre and every obstacle is gone. Working through a maze becomes a hundred-meter dash. Harry's fast on his feet, isn't he? Running is his thing."
"That would make the entire Triwizard Tournament pointless," Harry said quietly.
Not to mention he almost certainly couldn't master Fiendfyre.
"Tsk." Hermione curled her lip, muttering under her breath. "It was pointless to begin with. The entire competition, start to finish, only ever meant anything to Voldemort. And here you all are, chasing glory inside someone else's trap..."
"What was that?" Harry hadn't caught it.
"Nothing." Hermione smoothed her expression immediately and waved the Fiendfyre away. "Professor Snape is right, Fiendfyre isn't suitable. You've made your decision, so prepare properly and compete on your own merits."
Besides, even without my help, Barty Crouch Jr. will find a way to walk you right up to that Cup.
You were always going to pick up that Triwizard Cup. That was never in question.
---
The next evening. The sky was fading.
The Hogwarts Quidditch pitch had been transformed into the entrance of an enormous maze. Towering green hedges rose on every side, cutting off all sight lines, radiating something mysterious and dangerous in the cooling air.
Dumbledore stood on the high platform and announced the rules of the final task to the assembled students and spectators below.
Hermione, meanwhile, became a tendril of black-red shadow, drifting silently upward, circling without sound above the maze's canopy, looking down at everything below with cold, unhurried eyes.
Dumbledore gave the signal.
The final task of the Triwizard Tournament began.
➤ Next: Voldemort's Resurrection
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