The Fourth Task
A wave of nostalgia washed over all the Champions as they stepped out into a clearing in the Forbidden Forest on April the twenty-fourth, seeing the familiar set up of tents that had been their ‘sanctuary’ (hell) while waiting to fight dragons. Glancing at one another, the group could easily pass an un-said message of exhaustion and ‘here we go again’ through just their eyes, having gotten to know each other as something akin to friends over the long months in this Tournament.
It had been something they hadn’t really noticed, but something personal. Something that seemed to be the only good thing they could take out of this Tournament, other than the prize money. And yet, it hadn’t taken a moment's thought for Ludo Bagman to exploit this connection.
Even the few good things about this tournament could get ruined, clearly.
“Now don’t get too connected or anything. Soon, we’ll be sending you into the belly of the beast, one by one. This is a competition, you know, and it should be every man for himself. Or woman.” He chuckled, winking at Tess and Fleur, who looked at each other with confused, disgusted expressions in response. Clearly, no one was about to put up with Ludo’s act and speeches anymore.
“Well then,” He clapped his hands together at last, bowing slightly. “I must see that the Judges are ready. Goodbye and… good luck.” He looked specifically at Harry at this, the same sincere expression of help on his face as there had been in the First Task, which caught the boy off guard slightly, before pivoting and exiting their tent with a whoosh of the flap.
“Thank Merlin he’s gone…” Cedric sighed and Tess nodded. “Yeah, ‘cause if he kept talking I might have not stayed civil.” They all laughed at that, to which Tess said, with a completely stoic face, “I wasn’t joking.” And they quieted down.
The group then went their separate ways, as much as you could in a tight tent space, and sat in groups. Krum started to pace across the floor, alone, Cedric sat down and folded his hands, bobbing his knee anxiously, also alone, but Tess and Fleur sat together and spoke reassurances in French, while Harry and Draco sat criss cross on one of the beds and were silent, instead unrolling and studying their respective study guides that Hermione had made for them.
The hours drained by with the same dryness of the First Task, as the study guides became useless, Krum was sure to drive a ditch into the ground, Cedric’s whole body now shook, and the girls ran out of words to say in the French language. The older kids persisted, but, exhausted, Harry and Draco attempted to sneak in a power nap while Ludo began his opening speech, collapsing against each other on the bed.
Krum was the first called out, and, just as they had during the First Task, the others could hear Bagman commentating his every move. He apparently showed a certain prowess in Transfiguration, and of course was best in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The girls went next, and Tess was just wrapping up her turn when Cedric shook the boys awake gently.
“You’ll be after me.” He said, nodding to Harry, who nodded, turning to look at Draco who was shifting and gripping the sheets in fists, biting his bottom lip. “Are you alright?” The blonde nodded, and then the crowd roared outside, indicating that Tess had conquered whatever her challenge was, and Cedric gulped, waving. “Good luck.”
He left. Harry turned and lightly touched Draco’s arm, brows creased. “What is it?”
“He put me last. He must’ve made sure to. Last means the assassination attempts won’t be suspicious.” “Hey! Don’t say that.” Harry grabbed both his arms and turned his friend to face him, eyes narrowed sternly. “You aren’t going to get hurt, okay. Moody’s been preparing you for weeks now, and he believes in you, right? You said so yourself.”
Draco licked his lips, still looking a little green. “None of that will matter. He was a Death Eater, I’m just a kid I--” A loud scream, a bang, and a lot of shouts and hollers from the crowd soon followed that statement. Draco knuckles went an ugly yellow as he grabbed the sheets harder, and Harry grabbed the hand that was closest to him off the bed, squeezing it tight between his fists.
“Don’t say things like that. Dumbledore’s there, the whole crowd is watching, you trained for this… You’ll survive, I know that, you… You have to.” The two boys both looked down at their hands, interlocked desperately, as Harry’s voice broke, which Draco had never heard happen before.
“Harry…”
The crowd outside erupted in applause.
“I’m sorry.”
The boy who lived stepped back, looking broken, hopeless, and torn beyond reason, but started to back away to the flap of the tent anyway. The clock was ticking. He’d have to go soon, and Draco would have to move on without him.
“And with a great show of resilience Mr. Diggory has finished strong with flying colors!”
In an instant Draco had pushed himself off the bed and ran for the boy across from him, showing no restraint in hugging him tight.
“Now it is time for our very own surprise entry to enter the fray… Give it up, for Harry Potter!”
Harry stepped back and out of the tent and, sure enough, Draco was left alone, falling to his knees, curling up into a ball, wand gripped in the hand that once held Potter’s, feeling as if the thousands of eyes that are on the boy who once thousands of years ago he called an enemy, are on him instead, waiting for the moment when he breaks, and keels over.
He closes his eyes and he sees Crouch’s face cast in shadow, him stumbling like a madman in the woods, transforming into the boyish looking blonde he’s only seen on newspapers, screaming beside his aunt for help.
Barty Crouch Jr…
He tries to block out the sounds of the world and hears the name echoing around in his head, bouncing off the sides of his skull, toying with him.
He tries to imagine himself anywhere but here, in this empty tent, waiting out death, but only finds himself strapped in a chair, buckled down and screaming in front of a crowd of stone faced witches and wizards while an old woman whimpers and a baby howls--
A baby.
His mothers face, streaked with tears, desperate and grieving.
His fathers hands, firm and cold.
He was there that day, in the trial, only a year and a half old, there to witness the last of his small family outside of his parents get dragged to prison. He’d completely forgotten. And he’d seen Barty Crouch Jr that day, with the sandy hair and the boyish face and the screams, oh the screams…
He could be imagining it, it was when he was a baby after all, but this memory--nay, epiphany--is clear as anything else at the moment to him, probably even more. He realizes something, remembers it; His aunt, Crouch’s son, and those two Lestranges, they got caught trying to bring the Dark Lord back, right? Harry’s having dreams with Crouch’s son, Wormtail, and the Dark Lord all in the same room…
The idea that this whole year has been a plot to bring You-Know-Who back is insane, and Draco knows it, but he also knows that all the men in Harry’s dreams, in his nightmares, in the pictures littering his fathers home, are insane too.
“--leading Hogwarts champion… Draco… MALFOY!”
But he supposes that all will have to wait, as he stands and pushes back the tent flap, breathing in the sunlight and fresh air and stepping outside. Somehow, with this realization, he doesn’t feel quite worried or scared anymore. If anything, he’s all the more eager to now defeat any challenges this next Task might have in store for him, challenges set by a Death Eater or not.
-*-*-*-
With two entertaining Tasks in a row, the crowd of observers now seems to have completely forgotten about the drag that was the Second Task, and shivering in the freezing cold while looking at a lake for an hour is nothing more than a distant memory compared to cheering as the final Champions conquer challenge after challenge while climbing a stone pyramid to the top, where their matching colored flag sits.
The challenges each Champion faced would be related to the different types of magic, such as Transfiguration and Charms. And though she was more worried about the final two Champions getting past--and her boyfriend, but she knew he’d be fine--Hermione had to admit she was quite fascinated by the system, and just watching each Champion play.
It was cruel to be entertained by it, but she was all the same. Her fellow Gryffindors, however, were showing no restraint.
Foolishly, most had bought into the betting game the Weasley twins had proposed, some other students from other houses nearby their little group joining in, while the Creevey brothers were taking up the twins’ job of selling merch and doing it themselves, which they’d stop doing when it was Harry and Draco’s turn, during which they’d take as many pictures as possible to be used for future merchandise and newspapers.
All Hermione could do was shake her head and mutter, “Boys,” whilst cheering on Viktor and the others.
Viktor had passed with flying colors, as expected, barely getting a scratch when reversing tricky transfigurations, dispelling bogarts, and dodging projectiles. Fleur did exceptionally well relying on her nimbleness in hiking up the steps of the pyramid, and Tess showed she was an even better climber as she climbed the smooth stone sides as well, finishing the fastest. Cedric was where the biggest problems lied, as he faced a falling boulder that transfigured into a troll, but once he’d recovered from an awful blow that Hermione was positive had broken his legs, he beat the anti-summoning charms rule, which meant he couldn’t summon himself the flag or a broom, and instead transfigured the trolls club into a rope he swung to grab onto the flag and pull towards him. A success, but nobody was sure if his injury would mean disqualification yet.
Harry had made through by the skin of his teeth, also as expected, and passed by only showing his exceptional prowess in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, managing to avoid serious injury with dumb luck but also making it out with the usual amount of cut and bruises and, as Ginny was quick to point out, blood. Hermione couldn’t say she was surprised, having known Harry to be someone who survived impossible odds and scenarios through his ability to think through stressful situations--something she rarely envied and couldn’t find it in herself to when she was fearing he would get hurt worse than Cedric--and his natural skill and experience at getting himself to the brink of failure or in rare cases death anyway.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for our own Miracle Boy. The Boy Who Lived 2.0, might I add. The leading Hogwarts Champion. Draco… MALFOY!”
Hermione (and Ron) now subconsciously leaned forwards towards the arena below as through the curtain separating the crowded stadium from the woods and tents where the Champions waited stepped Draco himself, wearing a strange expression of stern conviction over his green fit, as he eyed the large stone pyramid in front of him, with only a set of stairs set into it leading to the final green flag at the top a guide to what he was supposed to do. Otherwise, he was on his own, but Draco, curiously, didn’t seem fazed, only gripping his wand tighter in his hand and starting up the steps.
Almost instantly the obstacles began, as vines sprung out from crevices in the steps and gripped onto the Slytherin’s ankles, but he flicked his wand and it ignited in flames, making the spiky things crawl back. Then Draco turned and yellowed, “Confringo!” And they burned away completely, and he continued.
He didn’t seem fazed by a transfigured flock of vicious birds, identifying them as mere objects easily and dispelling the magic with another flick of his wand, and when he reached the boggart charmed to look like a Dementor, dispelled it with riddikulus after finding the box it had come out of hiding beneath a trick step.
All the while Hermione and Ron continued to give each other astonished looks at the continuous display of skill and cool headedness they hadn’t expected one bit after how this boy had looked before the Task. The crowd seemed to love it though, especially when he finished off the final boss, a group of five Acromantulas Hagrid didn’t look too happy about seeing get slain.
He was using nonverbal spells, which were often simple but to perform them without incantation was still above his skill level, and moving with the precise calm of a seeker but not a traumatized fourteen year old. Hermione had seen his skills improve in class from his lessons with Moody, but never quite to this extent, and as he kicked off the back of a dead spider to jump into the air, then turned and tossed a chinese chomping cabbage at the final one, which he’d recovered from a previous challenge, she noticed the way his face was filled with the same mirth and anger as his Second Year duel with Harry.
While the crowd seemed to think it was a good thing, as it roared and roared when he ripped off his flag and waved it in the air, grinning wide, Hermione lightly touched Ron’s hand and the two looked to each other, both faces pulled down in concern, well aware that whatever had changed Draco’s demeanor could not be good.
-*-*-*-
The final scores were shot up into the sky after the Champions had all been organized outside on the steps of the Pyramid, much more organized and eager than usual due to the results being what determined their fates for the Final Task. Hermione was now fully gripping Ron’s arm and hand in worry, and even he had maintained his concerned expression, as Draco stood proud with his hands behind his back, an all too familiar smirk on his lips.
Harry was hardly noticing, shifting from foot to foot and gnawing his lip in his usual anxious state.
“Points will be awarded this time as follows; the Judges will score your overall performance out of ten, as usual. Five points will be awarded to the person who was the best in each category, and ten will be given to the fastest completed.” Bagman stepped aside, back in line with the other judges, and continued to read off his levitating scroll from there.
“Starting with Viktor Krum, who showed the best marks in Transfiguration and will be given five extra points.” Ludo then put up his personal score, which was a shimmering seven. Percy gave him seven, Madame Maxime gave eight, Karkaroff of course gave ten, again, and Dumbledore gave eight.
“Next we have Fleur Delacour, showing proficiency in Charms, to which we award five points.” Fleur received a six from Ludo, Percy, and Karkaroff, while Maxime gave nine and Dumbledore gave seven.
“Tess Whitlock finished the fastest, and therefore received ten points, and also showed some proficiency in Herbology.” This was no doubt due to how she had conjured vines at one point to help with her climb, but as she hadn’t used the steps, which clearly triggered most of the challenges, none of the judges looked any too happy with her scoring. Karkaroff sank as low as a three, Dumbledore was being generous with five, and Percy showed a rare show of favoritism in putting up six, but the other two gave an honest four. The ten points for finishing the fastest nearly compensated, though.
“Cedric Diggory nearly became the best in Defense Against the Dark Arts but was sadly beaten out, but still managed to get through an injury, to which we awarded three bonus points.” All the judges seemed impressed by the poor boy's skill in the face of injury, giving him eights and nines, while Karkaroff of course gave a four, grumbling about how injured Champions shouldn’t be allowed to compete.
“Harry Potter gave the best show of proficiency in Care of Magical Creatures.” Harry received a six from Karkaroff, who now looked very angry that the other Champions were gaining on his only pride and joy left. Percy gave him an eight, Ludo a ten, Dumbledore a ten, and Maxime an eight.
“Draco Malfoy received the best marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and was the only one to even perform non verbal spells, and use an object from a past challenge, so will be getting ten extra points.” Ludo seemed quite pleased with him and gave a nine, Dumbledore looked worried putting up nine but did anyway, Maxime went with nine as well, Percy an eight, and Karkaroff succumbing to seven.
The scores were all shot up in the air, and groans were heard amongst the Beauxbatons kids at seeing their two girls at the bottom, but the Durmstrang group in the crowd erupted in applause at their one remaining Champion coming out on top and maintaining his lead;
Viktor Krum, 250 points.
Draco Malfoy, 212 points.
Harry Potter, 201 points.
Cedric Diggory, 193 points.
Fleur Delacour, 187 points.
Tess Whitlock, 183 points.
However, once the crowd died down, Ludo pressed his wand to his neck for a final time and shouted above everyone else, “Tess Whitlock is the lowest scoring Champion and should therefore be eliminated this round, we realize that, but Cedric Diggory is incapacitated by his performance in this Task and will therefore not be able to compete. For that reason, the judges and I have agreed to eliminate him, leaving the other five to be the final Champions to compete in the Fifth Task at dusk on the 24th of June. Good luck, and good afternoon!”
-*-*-*-
“Ah…” Collapsing back onto the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry felt as content as he ever had this year with the weight of the Task fully off his shoulders. “That was a good game. Hey, how did Draco do?” He shot upright suddenly, eyeing Hermione and Ron seated in chairs across him. “He looked a lot happier than when I last saw him.”
The two exchanged a long look and Hermione rubbed her hands together while Ron uncomfortably shifted in his yeah. “Yeah he uh… He did great.” Harry didn’t buy it for a second, becoming concerned in an instant. “What is it?”
“He didn’t seem like he usually does this year, Harry.” “Is that bad?” Hermione bit her lip and leaned back, and Ron took it as his signal to lean forward and jump in. “What she means is… he was acting more like his old self.”
“Old self? What’s that supposed to mean?” The two glanced at each other, opened their mouths to speak, but were beaten to it when the door swung open and Draco jogged in with a crowd of Gryffindor’s, calling over to them, “It means I realized something, and I’m not too happy about it.”
He plopped down in front of Harry on the sofa, who raised his eyebrows at him in question while Ron jumped in his seat and looked around for any sign of how he got in there, like the air would tell him. Draco simply began explaining his epiphany before the Task, not seeming to care.
“I was there in the trial that day, and I remember it. I also remember what they were caught for; trying to bring You-Know-Who back, did you know that Harry? They failed, but what if, if Crouch is back, and you’re having dreams with him and Wormtail and You-Know-Who, all in the same room…”
“You reckon they’re trying to bring You-Know-Who back?” Ron asked and the blonde glanced over at him briefly, and nodded solemnly. “Yes, I do.” Ron sighed, a hiss that came out of his teeth, while Hermione shivered in her seat, glancing around the room.
“That’s a serious proposition, Draco. I’m not sure that--Oh my goodness!” Suddenly she grabbed the sides of her chair and the boys around her jumped, yelling, “What?” while she sprung to her feet and dashed over to the nearby windowsill, hands pressed against the glass. “Damn! She’s gone!”
“Who’s gone?” The muggleborn turned, not looking at all bright as usual and instead quite insane to see all of the common room looking at her strangely, causing her face to go red. “Nobody.” She squeaked, not so slyly locking the window behind her, then turning on her heel and dashing up the steps to the girls dormitory.
After a moment of confusion, Draco shrugged and stood, saying to his friends, “Well I should probably hurry back before curfew.” Harry nodded numbly and Ron grumbled, slumping in his chair and folding his arms for a nap. As the blonde walked away, the redhead peeked an eye open and frowned at his best friend, nodding to the portrait hole. Harry understood instantly, springing to his feet gratefully and jogging after Draco.
“Wait!” The Slytherin turned, startling when he saw how close Harry was, then shaking his head and raising an eyebrow in question. “Yes?” “Um… We’re gonna get through this, right?” “Right.” “He won’t come back.”
Draco opened his mouth, shut it again, then smiled with just his lips, squeezing Harry’s arm. “We’ll get through this, trust me.” He said, then turned and pushed open the portrait, climbed out the hole, waved with his back to him, in a strangely similar way to how he had the night they became Champions, and was gone as the portrait swung shut again.
Harry shivered in the sudden cold night air, turning and picking up his cloak from where he had dropped it on the sofa to slide it over his shoulders, that sat himself down criss cross in front of the fire, as he tended to do when wanting to escape his thoughts, as if waiting earnestly for Sirius’ face to appear in the flames.
But unlike months ago, when, if the face did appear, he would have been earnestly asking for help with girls, he felt he’d be asking about a very different subject now, and it certainly wasn’t Lord Voldemort’s return.