The Fight
Harry’s POV
Double Potions was always a horrible experience, but these days it was nothing short of torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champion, was about the most unpleasant thing Harry could imagine. He had already struggled through one Friday's worth, with Hermione sitting next to him intoning "ignore them, ignore them, ignore them" under her breath, and he couldn't see why today should be any better.
When he and Hermione arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment Harry thought they were S.P.E.W. badges - then he saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:
Support CEDRIC DIGGORY -
the REAL Hogwarts Champion!
"Like them, Potter?" said Malfoy loudly as Harry approached. "And this isn't all they do - look!"
He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:
POTTER STINKS
The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt the heat rise in his face and neck.
"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really witty."
Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either.
"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."
Some of the anger Harry had been feeling for days and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He had reached for his wand before he'd thought what he was doing. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.
"Harry!" Hermione said warningly.
"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts -"
For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.
"Funnunculus!" Harry yelled.
"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.
Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles - Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.
"Hermione!"
Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Harry turned and felt his wand being yanked out of his hand. As he was turning back to Malfoy, he heard a crack! Harry saw his wand held in Malfoy’s hand. It was snapped in two, connected by the wand’s core. He felt an overwhelming sense of loss as the noise from the students faded into the background. Malfoy seemed to realise he’d gone too far; his face was as pale as Myrtle’s.
“I will make you pay for that”, Harry stated emotionlessly. Malfoy looked terrified: the lack of emotion in Harry’s voice seemed to scare him more than if Harry had screamed at him. Before Harry could do anything, Snape stalked around the corner. “What’s all this about?” Snape sneered, his gaze flicking between the two wands in Malfoy’s hands, Harry’s empty hands and the cold fury on Harry’s face.
“Malfoy snapped my wand”, Harry declared coldly, “which I know, thanks to Hermione’s research, could be seen as sabotaging a Triwizard Champion, which results in a fine of 1000 Galleons. Or the offender has to give the Champion their oath of allegiance. Whichever option the Champion demands. I’m sure Mr Crouch will have a lot to say about the shame this incident will cause the Malfoy name and their standing in the Ministry”.
Snape stared at him for a second: Harry realised he’d sounded just like Snape at his deadliest. Cool, furious, and two seconds from making your life a living hell.
“Is this true?” Snape ground out. Malfoy attempted to appear indignant. “Of course not. Potter - he -”. “I am willing to repeat my story under Veritaserum. Can you say the same, Malfoy?” Harry snarled, his anger starting to show. Malfoy hesitated for a second, but that was long enough for Snape. Whirling, he grabbed Malfoy by the ear.
“Ow! Get off! Wha-” “IMBECILE! I’M BRINGING YOU TO THE JUDGES! YOU BETTER HOPE POTTER IS LENIENT! I’M DISGUSTED THAT YOU'VE DISGRACED THE NOBLE HOUSE OF SLYTHERIN! DETENTION FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR! NO HOGSMEADE VISITS! AND I’LL DECIDE HOW MANY POINTS TO DEDUCT FROM MY OWN HOUSE AFTER THE JUDGES AND POTTER ARE FINISHED WITH YOU!!” Snape yelled inches from Malfoy’s face before dragging Malfoy by the ear towards the Great Hall.
The Gryffindors looked shocked Snape had taken Harry’s side. The Slytherins were whispering angrily to each other. Harry was sure they were complaining about Snape’s anger towards Malfoy. When he heard Pansy muttering, “He should have known it’s forbidden to sabotage a Champion. He’ll be lucky to live to see tomorrow”, he realised they were - for once - not agreeing with Draco’s actions. Ron gave Harry a considering glance before leading Hermione towards the Hospital Wing. Harry started to follow but was stopped by Snape. “Potter, come. You’ll recount your story to the judges. Bring both wands with you”.
Harry was so shocked he forgot his fury. Snape had yelled at Malfoy. Had given him detention. Merlin, Snape had all but flayed the skin from Malfoy’s back. Harry followed them and glanced out the first window he saw. No, the apocalypse hadn’t started, nor could Harry see any pigs flying or Voldemort dancing the Macarena. After a pinch on his arm confirmed he wasn’t dreaming, Harry was forced to conclude he hadn’t imagined the whole incident.
By the time Harry went to sit down for Dinner, the story had spread like wildfire. Hermione, teeth shrunk back to shorter than their usual size (Harry found he almost missed her slight buck teeth), rejoined the Great Hall. Ron seemed to have decided that, if Harry'd had an attention-seeking plan, it wouldn’t have involved improving the odds of his own death and apologised to Harry. After a few minutes of watching Ron grovel, Harry capitulated and forgave him.
“So, what happened with the judges?” Hermione asked. Harry noticed the surrounding conversation dimmed as curious students strained to hear. He smiled. “After I took the dosage of Veritaserum -” “How could they make you? It’s illegal!” “-they had no choice but to believe me. Lucius Malfoy somehow got word of the meeting, but he quit defending Draco after I finished. He handed over 1000 Galleons for the fine there and then. When Draco protested my term, Lucius said I could demand Draco be killed if I died during the Tournament, and all the judges would be allowed to ask is, “Muggle or magical methods?” That shut him up. Professor Moody wanted Draco expelled, but I disagreed”.
“Why?” Ron asked. Hermione frowned. “Hang on. What was the term Malfoy was protesting?” Before Harry could open his mouth, Malfoy stood up and cleared his throat over at the Slytherin table. “Potter -” Snape coughed. “-Harry, I apologise for snapping your wand. I wasn’t trying to sabotage you for the Tournament. I would -” he coughed. “- I would offer my wand, but it didn't choose you, so it’s useless”. So saying, Malfoy sat. Harry turned to Hermione.
“He wasn’t too happy about having to make a public apology”, Harry commented. Ron snorted, but something crossed Hermione’s face. She’s figured it out, he thought with a sigh. “What does Malfoy mean? Why would his wand be useless to you? Most wizards or witches can do magic with someone else’s wand”, Hermione declared, demanding answers. “According to Mr Crouch, Champions must compete with a wand that chose them. My wand snapped, and Draco’s wand chose him, so…” Harry trailed off.
“Mate, you’re going to have to compete in the Tournament without a wand?” Ron gaped. Harry smiled bitterly. “Yes”.
The Preparation for the First
The night before the First Task, Harry still hadn’t found a way to defeat a dragon. Ron had fallen asleep three hours ago, and Hermione had closed her eyes, “Just for a minute!” an hour ago. Harry flicked through the books Madam Pince had recommended. The only new thing Harry found out about dragons was that they were very, very, very, (Harry skipped the other “verys” until he reached the bottom of the page) distantly related to the common housecat. (1)
Harry yawned, rubbing his eyes. He stretched, wincing as his back cracked from sitting too long. Looking back at the book in front of him, Harry noticed the words moving around the page. After a minute, he slowly realised the words were staying still: his straining eyes were the problem. Leaning back in the chair, Harry closed his eyes.
Images of Crookshanks flashed through Harry’s mind. His squashed face, his loud purring when Hermione rubbed him, the noises he made when playing. Harry huffed. Magical cats weren’t that different from muggle cats, he thought. In his head, he saw an alley cat lazing in the sun. Running away from Dudley and his gang. Chasing a toy round in circles while Dudley’s gang laughed, egging him on…
Harry jolted up in the chair, tiredness forgotten. He wasn’t allowed to use someone else’s wand during the Tasks. But, no one said anything about using someone else’s wand before the Tasks. Harry spotted Hermione’s wand in the book she had been reading. Grabbing her wand, Harry cast the Transfiguration spell on an old quill he had in his bag.
It worked on his sixth attempt. Harry reached out and hefted it (it seemed to be the correct weight) and felt its surface. Hardly daring to hope, Harry checked to see if it was working. The thud from his excited jump was enough to wake Hermione. “Wha-?” Hiding it in his robes, Harry reached over. “Here. I caught it before it hit the floor”, he explained, giving Hermione her wand. “Thanks”, she yawned, her jaw cracking. “Have you found anything?”
Harry leaned over and shook Ron awake, who gazed blearily around. “Watimeizzit?” Ron mumbled. Harry looked at his watch. “2”, Harry replied. “Hermione, can you please send all the books back?” She nodded and, with a muttered Depulso, sent the books flying to their places on the shelves. “Come on. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to spend the night in my bed, rather than a chair in the Library”, Harry declared. Standing, they made their way back to the Common Room.
“Harry, have you found anything? Do you know how you’re going to defeat the dragon?” Hermione repeated her question from earlier. Harry nodded and watched the excitement show on her face. “You’ll have to wait until the Task, though. I don’t want the portraits gossiping about my plan,” Harry declared in a portrait less corridor. Hermione nodded, then bid them goodnight once they reached the Common Room. Harry fell asleep a few seconds after he got into bed.
.The First Task
Hermione’s POV
Hermione was sitting in the stands beside Ron. She’d let out a small scream when she saw the dragons. Facing them with a wand would be hard enough. Without one, it was almost suicidal.
Hermione was so worried about Harry; she didn’t comment on the tactics of the other Champions. She heard Ludo’s commentary on Cedric’s Transfiguration, which almost worked at distracting his Swedish Short-Snout. Fleur’s spell merited a short clap, and when Krum’s dragon crushed half her eggs, she thought about how many injuries Harry could suffer.
A moan escaped her as Hermione saw the Hungarian Horntail. “Why does the most dangerous dragon get assigned to the most vulnerable Champion?” she groaned. Ron tried to calm her, but she was flipping between concern for Harry and murderous rage for the ferret. “Look, Harry’s resourceful. He’s gotten out of more scrapes than most people here will ever experience. If he can do that, he can get through this”, Ron murmured.
Hermione whirled around, and Ron was so startled he almost ended up in the lap of the Beauxbatons student sitting beside him. “Yes, he’s gotten out of lots of situations. This is the first situation he’s faced without his wand. Can you imagine what must be going through his head? How's he feeling?” she snarled, taking her frustrations out on the unfortunate boy. Ron nodded, not taking what she said personally. Hermione glanced around and happened to see Professor Moody’s face. He was staring at the Horntail, looking… excited. Gleeful, even.
Before Hermione had time to consider it, a roar erupted from the crowd let her know Harry was starting. Harry was holding something in his right hand: a black tube-like object, about half the length of a wand.
“Witches and wizards, please give it up for our fourth Champion, Harry Potter!” announced Ludo Bagman amidst applause, cheers and boos. “As many of you may know, Harry is not only the youngest Champion, but he is competing wandlessly due to an incident - which has already been dealt with. As Champions can’t withdraw, Harry must continue until the final Task - or until his untimely death”. Hermione buried her head in her hands for a moment before peeking through her fingers. Ron rubbed her back consolingly.
“Since Harry hasn’t got another wand, he has to - ooh, what’s that in his hand? It doesn’t look like any magical item I’ve ever seen…” Ludo trailed off, and Hermione’s curiosity got the better of her. As she watched Harry point the object at the ground, a green beam appeared out, culminating in a moving green dot on the bottom of the enclosure. As Ludo tried to discover what it was, Hermione thought it was a green torch. She couldn’t think why Harry would want a torch when it was the middle of the afternoon, but Hermione reckoned there was a method to Harry’s madness.
“Maybe it’s a device that shoots out Avada Kedavra?” Ludo mused. She saw Harry snort before he turned and pointed it at Ludo. Screams erupted but ended after Ludo wasn’t harmed. “If that’s true,” Harry yelled loud enough to be heard by everyone in the stands, his voice straining, “why aren’t you keeled over dead?” Ludo chuckled weakly, and the dragon, ignored until now, let out a breath of fire into the sky.
Hermione frowned as Harry moved the torch until it was pointed at the ground in front of the Horntail. Something was nagging her... the torch! No muggle torches emitted a green light. She admitted the possibility of wizarding devices that could emit green light but thought it was unlikely, given the connotations to the Killing Curse. As the dragon noticed the dot (Harry was sweeping it left to right on the ground), it stopped moving. Its eyes followed the dot as its neck dipped low to the ground, its tail swishing backwards and forwards.
“What is happening? I’ve never heard of dragons acting like this! Handlers, have you seen this type of behaviour before?” Ludo enquired. As the handlers conferred then shook their heads, Hermione heard Dumbledore laugh. She looked over and caught Professor Snape shaking his head, an odd light in his eyes. If she didn’t know better, Hermione might think he was… amused. She shook her head, dismissing that preposterous thought.
Turning back to the dragon, Hermione thought it almost reminded her of a neighbour's cat she’d known when she was eight. The cat never scratched anyone, and all the children loved it. She could remember spending weekends playing with a small torch, pointing it at the ground and watching the cat chase the dot around…
Hermione gasped in wonder, startling Ron. Ignoring his questions for the moment, needing to be sure, she watched the dragon. The dot moved closer to the dragon, and it swiped a claw at the ground where the dot was. When the dot reappeared a few seconds later, it let out a huff in apparent annoyance. When it pounced on the dot a minute later, gasps erupted from the crowd. Ignoring Ludo’s exclamations of “I don’t believe it!” Hermione turned to Ron.
“Harry’s using a laser to distract the dragon,” she declared, interrupting Ron’s queries. “I should have realised! Dragons are distant relatives of cats, and cats like to chase around after things. When I was younger, I used to play with a cat by pointing a light at the ground and watch it chase around after the light. Once, it even attempted to climb a wall when I pointed the light at one. It was unsuccessful, but it's a method to play with or distract a cat.”
Ron laughed as Harry directed the dragon towards the side of the enclosure while he crept towards the eggs. “Clever,” he admired. Hermione nodded. “I think Dumbledore and Professor Snape figured it out before me. I heard Dumbledore laugh, and when I looked over, I saw Professor Snape shaking his head with (what I think was) amusement,” she admitted.
Ron accepted this with a mild look of shock before looking at the crowd. “How many others do you think figured it out?” he wondered. Hermione considered, before replying, “Most of the muggleborns, some of the half-bloods and almost none of the purebloods. In other words, I reckon less than one in ten.”
Hermione turned back to the Task. The dragon had followed the dot over to the edge of the enclosure and was jumping against the wall trying to reach it, which was just over its head, much to the dismay of the group of Slytherins sitting less than four feet above the dragon. Harry was less than ten feet away from the eggs, gaze flicking from the dragon to his destination and back again.
Ludo was still trying to figure out what Harry was holding while exclaiming at the pace Harry was completing the Task. Judging by the group of giggling first-year muggleborns sitting two rows behind him, Hermione guessed he wouldn’t be informed anytime soon. “Harry is almost at the eggs and on course to beat Mr Krum’s time - I don’t believe it! Harry Potter has completed the First Task in less than five minutes, with no damage to himself, the dragon, or any other eggs! Give a round of applause to Mr Potter!” Ludo exclaimed.
Hermione and Ron whooped with joy as Harry spotted them in the stands. Waving, he smiled over at them. “Now for the judges’ scores!” Mr Crouch, instead of showing his score, pointed his wand at his throat. “Before I score Mr Potter, I would like to find out just what he did”, he declared, looking at Harry. When Harry pointed at his throat, Mr Crouch performed the spell on him.
“I used a muggle toy to distract it. Dragons are distant relatives of cats, and since this distracts cats, I was hoping it would work on dragons,” Harry explained. Hermione saw Mr Crouch nod before a look of confusion crossed his face. “What would you have done if it hadn’t worked?” he wondered. Harry’s shrug was enough for Hermione. It also appeared to be enough for Mr Crouch, for he cancelled the spells and pointed his wand at the sky. A silver, glowing tenappeared.
Ludo, Dumbledore and Madame Maxime followed with tens of their own, sending the crowd wild when they realised Harry was tied first, with one judge yet to score. Ron commented that “Karkaroff may want Krum to win, but he knows he’ll be hated if he gives Harry a bad score”, and Hermione nodded. Karkaroff pointed his wand at the sky. An almost grudging looking nine appeared, which was still low enough that half the crowd booed. Hermione saw Harry smile and, as she and Ron ran over to him, she noticed his sigh of relief.
“Common Room?” Harry asked, warily eyeing the oncoming hoard of wellwishers and acid-green clad reporters with Quick-Quotes Quills. (2) Hermione nodded, and Ron replied, “Sure”. Together they turned, walking back towards Hogwarts.
The Preparation for the Second
Harry had gathered together as many muggleborns and half-bloods raised in the Muggle world as he could. Given that there were none in Slytherin, he was persona non grata with the Hufflepuffs and his current unpopularity in general; less than ten people were willing and able to help. Also, there wasn’t a single hour where Harry could meet with everyone at once due to conflicting class schedules. Accordingly, Harry wanted them to write suggestions for non-magical ways of breathing underwater for ninety minutes (better to be able to spend more time underwater than expected, rather than less, he mused).
Three people came back with answers. Since Harry doubted his ability to find a submarine or modify a boat without magic to make it work underwater, those suggestions were tossed into the fire once read. The third suggestion was to practise holding his breath for a long time. Harry laughed at this one before deciding to ask the Gryffindor Common Room about the last time anyone had held their breath for an hour underwater. When (to his immense shock) no one described any occasion of the sort, Harry looked at the third year who’d given the suggestion, before sighing.
With the hours until the Second Task down to the single figures, Harry was getting desperate. Hermione and Ron had been called away to McGonagall’s office a few hours ago, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Neville had left for bed fifteen minutes prior, and Harry didn’t know when Hermione would be back, so he would borrow Neville’s wand if he came up with an idea that would help. If he could get his thoughts in order.
Muggle… breathing underwater… boat… submarine… sponges… Dudley… tubes… like a muggle oxygen mask… black… silver… oxygen… water… electrolysis (3) … not viable… Dursleys… coastal holidays… flippers… harpoon as a weapon… coastal huts… seaside rental shops… surfing… tanks…
With that, Harry ran up the stairs and burst into the fourth year boy’s dormitory. Neville’s curtains were closed, but Harry knew it took Neville an hour to fall asleep, so he didn’t feel guilty about opening the curtains. “Can I borrow your wand for fifteen, twenty minutes maximum?” Harry blurted. Neville rolled over, looking surprised. Harry couldn’t blame him: it wasn’t a regular occurrence for students to ask to borrow someone else’s wand at almost two in the morning.
“Um… sure. Give it back when you’re done, though,” Neville acquiesced. Harry grabbed the wand, thanked Neville profusely, and went back down to the Common Room. Seeing it was pitch black outside, he opened a window. Harry concentrated. Hogwarts was in the Scottish Highlands, with the coast over 100 miles away. There had to be a muggle rental shop somewhere along the coast, ready to take advantage of unwary tourists.
Harry hoped no one was standing outside pointing a torch at the sky tonight. He didn't want to be punished for breaking the Statute of Secrecy. With a muttered Accio, Harry waited with bated breath. When nothing came flying through the window, he cast the charm again. And again. It was only on Harry’s fifth attempt that the spell worked.
It flew through the window, landing on the carpet in front of Harry. Silver. Metallic. Full. Harry lugged it up to the dormitory, putting it beside his bed. He gave Neville’s wand back, thanking him again for letting him borrow it. Harry lay down in his bed, rolled over and fell asleep, forgetting that he hadn’t closed the window.
There were many wild theories about what the four silvery things were and how they’d got into the Gryffindor Common Room in the morning.
The Second Task
HIS POV
09:24
It had been easy to Confound the Goblet to make it think it should pick 4 Champions instead of 3. It had been easy to avoid suspicion. It had been funny that Potter could withstand the Imperius.
It hadn’t been easy to not murder Malfoy after what he did to Potter. If He’d (4) been in Potter’s place, He would have demanded Malfoy’s expulsion. But noo, that would be too easy for Saint Potter. He’d tried to allow Potter to use a different wand, but everyone else vetoed His suggestion.
He couldn’t help Potter. He’d been told to suggest ways Potter could complete the Tasks, to make it easy for him. He wasn’t looking forward to the Dark Lord’s reaction when told his servant couldn’t finish his task due to His lack of knowledge of the Muggle world.
His lips curled up at the thought of those disgusting creatures as He waited for Potter to arrive for the Second Task. In His opinion, muggles were things that should know their place and be enslaved like house-elfs. He couldn’t wait until the Dark Lord took over and started the Wizarding world on its path to greatness. He ignored the silvery, humanoid-shaped thing stumbling down from Hogwarts to the Black Lake.
He reflected that somewhere on that path to greatness would be punishment for those who weren’t punctual. If Potter didn’t turn up on time, it would be harder for Him to ensure that Potter won the Final Task and got his just reward, as the Dark Lord wanted. His only wish was to see the Dark Lord rise again.
Looking to the other Champions, He noticed they were looking at the object He’d ignored minutes earlier. Following their gaze, He saw Potter stumbling towards them. The stumbling was caused by Potter’s odd choice of footwear, which looked like someone had cast Stretching and Flattening Jinxes on his feet. Potter was carrying a silver object on his back, a black tube leading to his face. He was also wearing a black, skintight item covering everything except his hands, face and footwear. (A.N: Since the spy doesn’t know anything about muggle items and won’t be able to name anything Harry’s wearing, I’ll put it here. Harry’s using an oxygen tank with a dry suit and flippers. Congrats to anyone who guessed despite my (deliberately) vague description.)
He hoped Potter knew what he was doing because He couldn’t tell what the thing was for, how it was supposed to be used or what to do if something went wrong. However loyal He was to the Dark Lord, He knew He would find Himself on the wrong side of a flash of green light if Potter died before the proper time.
He saw Bagman spacing out the Champions, with Potter at the end. He sneered, remembering the accusations of Bagman being a Death Eater years previously. The Dark Lord had too much taste to scrape the barrel with a famous Quidditch player. As Bagman went back to the other judges, He saw Potter pull what looked like a hood over his head, pull goggles on over his eyes, fiddled with the black tube attached to his face, and pull a knife out from somewhere.
Diggory and Delacour pointed their wands at their heads as the whistle blew, casting the Bubble-Head Charm before beginning to wade through the lake. Krum waded into the lake, pointed his wand at his body, and Transfigured his head into that of a shark. He couldn’t tell whether Krum only intended to Transfigure his head or the spell went wrong, but he started swimming once the spell took effect. Potter, not having a wand to cast spells with, simply waded into the lake and, once he was in deep enough, started swimming.
He noticed Potter was swimming faster than the other Champions, even though he was just using his legs. Perhaps it was due to Potter’s odd choice of footwear, He mused. He thought the black clothing Potter was wearing could be a muggle way of staying warm in the water, which left the silvery thing as a way of breathing. He crushed the tiny smidgen of respect He felt for the inventiveness of muggles without magic. (5) One by one, the Champions dipped below the surface, searching for what had been taken from them.
10:05 (6)
He saw Ms Delacour break the surface alone. When she got back to the bank and was wrapped up in blankets, He overheard her say to her Headmistress, “I was attacked… ze Grindylows…”
He wondered how Potter was getting on.
10:31
When He saw heads breaking the surface, He was sure it was Potter and his hostage. When He realised it was Diggory and his girlfriend, He had to stop Himself from casting a curse on them.
He hoped it wouldn’t be much longer until Potter broke the surface.
10:40 (6)
The only thing stopping Him from cursing Krum and the Granger Mudblood when they broke the surface was the number of potential witnesses. He may be a loyal, capable Death Eater, but He didn’t want to take his chances against over 100 witches and wizards of various capabilities.
10:55 (6)
He was happy the Dark Lord wouldn’t have to end his life when Potter, his hostage, and the Delacour hostage broke the surface. As the Delacour girl seemed to be having difficulty swimming, He saw Potter and the Weasley boy pulling her through the water. All the judges except Karkaroff made their way to the bank: the Beauxbatons’ Headmistress was having a hard time keeping the elder Delacour from re-entering the lake to get to her sister.
Potter pulled off the hood and the black tube, shrugged off the silver thing, put the knife away, and sat down to remove his footwear. He saw his friends, and Madam Pomfrey gathered around Potter. The Headmaster spoke with the Merchieftainess for a few minutes before he gathered the other judges around. He hoped the judges would make His life easier for the Third Task and give Potter enough points to put him in first place.
He was disappointed Potter was made joint first, tying with Diggory. Judging by Bagman’s look at Karkaroff, He knew who to blame. He thought it would be fun to watch Karkaroff try to explain himself to the Dark Lord when he rose. Potter seemed shocked, but his friends were excited for him.
He snorted. Fools. If they knew what was coming, they’d be crying instead of congratulating.
The Preparation for the Third
Harry was looking forward to the end of the Triwizard Tournament. He would be given a magical firework in case he needed help, as his wandless state didn’t allow him to send up red sparks. Harry privately thought that he wouldn’t waste the firework firing it into the sky if he got into trouble. He’d fire it at whatever he was trying to get away from and run in the opposite direction.
Harry had a lot of experience with hedges since clipping them was one of the chores the Dursleys made him do, but he didn’t think the judges would let him make the hedges look neat instead of navigating the maze.
He studied as many books on Care of Magical Creatures as he could, looking for non-magical methods of defeating, hindering or stopping as many creatures as possible. Harry borrowed a compass from Dean and decided he needed a weapon as a last resort option.
While using his quill to go through the merits of some muggle items, Harry came up with a product to speed up his journey through the maze. Borrowing Hermione’s wand (“Thanks! I’ll give it back in twenty minutes.”), he summoned his weapon and a container. Harry made a harness that would fit over his back and hold the items. Then he put a Notice-Me-Not charm on it. He examined it and nodded: it was the best Harry could do with his capabilities. It would pass unnoticed by a cursory glance, but Harry figured most people wouldn’t bother looking harder.
Harry returned Hermione’s wand and had one final look over everything. He nodded. It should be enough to keep him alive.
The Third Task
Severus’s POV
Severus left the Great Hall with the students, walking down to the Quidditch Pitch. Unlike most of the Slytherins, he wanted Potter to survive. He knew Hagrid’s creatures wouldn’t kill unless provoked, though he’d heard a rumour about a Sphinx being imported for this occasion. However, not wanting Potter dead didn’t mean he wanted him to win. Severus thought it was about time Hufflepuff received some glory - not that he’d ever say that out loud.
He chose a seat in the fifth from the front row, close enough to intervene if necessary while giving him a quick exit to the back. He was just in time to witness the patrollers take their position around the perimeter of the maze.
A flicker near the Champions caught his attention. Severus studied the area around them, trying to find the flicker again. Then he turned his attention to the Champions. Ms Delacour, Mr Krum and Mr Diggory, with wands clenched in their hands. Potter, with a compass and firework in his hands and…
Concentrating on Potter’s back, two items faded into view, held in place by a harness. Severus felt a grudging respect Potter had thought to use a Notice-Me-Not. Or maybe it was Granger's idea, he mused. One item was a green container with writing on it. Borrowing a set of Omnioculars from a nearby Slytherin, he was able to make out the word Roundup(7).
He smirked, wondering how Potter, who was surely waited on hand and foot by his muggle relatives (he ignored the small voice in his head muttering about Petunia’s adverse reaction when she found out about Lily’s magic), knew what weed killer was. The other was an odd-looking stick that started off wide and made of wood before tapering into twin metal pipes…
If Severus didn’t have a reputation to maintain as the Vice President of the Kill Harry Potter Club (the Dark Lord was the President), he would have cursed the boy’s audacity. Who in the blithering blue blazes had taken temporary leave of their senses and decided it was a good idea to give The Boy Who Lived To Annoy Him a shotgun? How did he even acquire it? The last time Severus checked, a muggle needed to be 17 to buy a gun, and Potter was 14.
The whistle blew before Severus could alert the judges and the two Hogwarts Champions ran into the maze. He allowed himself to curse, ignoring the fearful looks the students were throwing him.
Severus reassured himself Potter couldn’t be so desperate to win that he’d brought a gun to murder the competition. For one thing, it wasn’t Potter’s style. For another, he would have heard enough stories from the mutt about what a hellhole Azkaban was to risk being sent there. He thought Potter might have brought the gun in case one of the creatures inside the maze decided it wanted him for dinner.
After all, Potter knew better than any of the other Champions the types of creatures Hagrid could provide. Severus nodded, convinced Potter wanted the gun to give himself the same chance of surviving as the other Champions (who had entered the maze while he was lost in thought) had with their wands.
He found himself observing Mad-Eye Moody, whose position was to the left of Severus’s. He had his wand pointed towards the maze; his head cocked to the side like he was listening for something. As he watched, Mad-Eye looked at the labyrinth and started tapping his left hand against his leg. He cast a spell nonverbally into the maze on the fifth tap, leaving Severus uncertain of which spell he had cast or, perhaps the more important question, why. The spell didn’t give off a light, which narrowed down the list, but there were too many possibilities for him to choose from.
Severus kept a close eye on Mad-Eye, but he didn’t do anything unusual after that. When red sparks appeared in the sky, Mad-Eye took one step towards it before shaking his head and turning back.
He nodded. The sparks came from the opposite side to where Mad=Eye was positioned, and there were other Professors closer. Had Severus been in Mad-Eye’s place, he would have done the same, in case more red sparks shot up closer to his position.
Around twenty minutes later, Severus felt an itch on his left forearm. He idly scratched at it, scanning the sky for any sign of more red sparks. When the itch got worse, he pulled up his sleeve, thinking someone may have pulled a prank on him, noticing Mad-Eye seemed to be having the same problem. Thinking about the length of time he would put the perpetrator in detention, he pulled up his sleeve. As the world dropped away from him, he heard Mad-Eye let out a delighted cackle.
His Dark Mark, which had been growing clearer during the year, was now a vivid red. In shock, he looked up. Karkaroff was twitching in his seat (no wonder, Severus thought darkly. He’s realised selling out some Death Eaters to save his skin has just shortened his lifespan to a matter of weeks, if not months.), earning him a concerned look from Madame Maxime - which he brushed off - and a calculating glance from Albus.
He could still hear Mad-Eye laughing. Turning, he caught the gaze of Mad-Eye’s non-magical eye (his magical eye was watching Karkaroff). Keeping the fear from his face, Severus was still sure Mad-Eye noticed his pale face and his half-rolled up left sleeve. A few seconds later, burning pain shot through his left forearm. Hissing, his right hand grabbed his forearm. He heard Karkaroff yelp and, half stumbling, half running, make his excuses as he left the judges table.
Mad-Eye was looking with glee at his covered left arm, almost crooning at it. Severus snorted, finding a moment of humour at the thought of Mad-Eye becoming a Death Eater. Chancing a look at his forearm, he saw the Dark Mark was now jet-black. He caught Albus’s gaze for a second before turning and moving over to the edge of the row. Walking through the steps, he imagined he could still feel Mad-Eye and Albus’s gazes on him. Before he was out of earshot, Severus thought he heard the Diggory boy shouting something about Potter, the Cup and a Portkey. (8)
Heart racing, Severus strode towards the edge of the Hogwarts wards, putting on his Death Eater robes and mask as he walked. Since he had noticed his mark getting clearer, he had started carrying them around in his pocket in case he needed them. As he left the wards, he heard Albus calling his name. He Disapparated before the Headmaster reached him.
The Fight
Severus’s POV (still)
Severus saw his worst fear had become a reality. He looked around as the cracks of Apparition continued. They were in a graveyard, close to a grave with “Tom Riddle” engraved on it. Potter was tied to the statue on the gravestone with ropes, the gun lying on the ground in front of him. He appeared unharmed, apart from a cut on his forearm. The rat was moaning on the ground, clutching his arm to his chest. Closer inspection revealed the rat had managed to become an amputee (he sneered, feeling savage joy at the sight).
Putting everything together, he concluded the Dark Lord had used the Regeneration Potion, which had fallen out of favour hundreds of years ago due to the book containing the brewing directions falling out of circulation. Severus wondered how the Dark Lord had found it, wishing he could have a look at the book. For professional curiosity, of course.
One of the things he hadn’t missed about being a Death Eater was the ceremony. He didn’t enjoy the subservience of kissing the Dark Lord’s robes. Not to mention the thought of what diseases he could catch from kissing robes that dragged on the ground through Merlin knows what substances. Although none of the Death Eaters seemed to suffer adverse effects, Severus wasn’t convinced.
He noticed the gaps in the circle once they arranged themselves around the Dark Lord, Potter, the rat and the grave. Some (like the Lestranges) were in Azkaban, while others were dead. A small number wouldn’t return due to fear of the Dark Lord’s punishment for their betrayal. He mentally snorted as the Dark Lord talked about smelling guilt. Severus felt guilt, all right. Guilt he hadn’t realised what the Dark Lord’s actual goals were earlier in his career.
Potter was watching the proceedings. He realised the boy hoped to be able to escape and return with the names of Death Eaters. Smart, he thought. He saw Avery fall to his knees, begging for forgiveness. Avery seemed to have forgotten the Dark Lord would sooner marry a muggleborn than forgive someone he believed had failed him, as his pleas were answered by a Crucio. When the Dark Lord gave the rat a new hand, Severus wished the Dark Lord had switched curses. He may not be Avery’s biggest fan, but the rat was more deserving of a Crucio than him.
Severus enjoyed the fear that crossed Lucius’s face as he grovelled (not as pathetically as Avery, he was forced to admit, but still) to avoid punishment. He cursed the Ministry’s foolishness for using Dementors as guards for Azkaban. To use a muggle phrase he’d overheard a muggleborn student use a few weeks ago, birds of a feather flock together. It was why Dark creatures would form alliances with other Dark creatures, the same for Light creatures. He wished he could be a fly on the wall in the meeting that would occur when the imbecilic Fudge found out the Dementors had abandoned Azkaban.
He strengthened his shields as the Dark Lord reached the gap separating him from Nott. Severus knew three of them were dead, the fourth gap belonged to Karkaroff, and he was curious about the fifth. When the Dark Lord talked about his most loyal servant, who had already re-entered his service, he was concerned. He used the time when the Dark Lord was bragging about his return (why do people who believe themselves to be great always need to brag about how great and clever they are? he thought, finding it ironic the Dark Lord was acting like villains from muggle films) to think about this alarming piece of news.
Noting that he needed to inform Dumbledore about Bertha Jorkins’s death, he listened with growing horror at the thought of a Death Eater hidden at Hogwarts. His thoughts were interrupted when the Dark Lord stopped in front of him, forcing him to strengthen his Occlumency shields in preparation for the Dark Lord’s inevitable mental attack.
“Severus. I believed you had left me forever. What is your excuse for not searching for me? Didn’t want to leave the protection provided by the muggle loving fool and your cushy job at Hogwarts?” the Dark Lord hissed, his red eyes flashing. Severus bowed, keeping the twinge of disgust buried deep within his mind, knowing this charade would further convince Potter of his loyalty to the Dark Lord.
“My Lord, all this time, I knew a wizard as great, as powerful as you would return. You placed me at Hogwarts to spy on the old fool, and I intended to do my job. Wormtail’s gift to you was his hand, and another Death Eater managed to infiltrate Hogwarts to execute your plan. The only gifts my fellow Death Eaters have given you are platitudes, excuses and apologies. I thought you would prefer thirteen years worth of information as a gift. Though I wished with all my heart to search for you, this would have jeopardised my role as your spy at Hogwarts, and your wish for information overrode my desire to find you. If this, or the information waiting for you within my mind displeases you, I offer myself humbly to you for whatever punishment you deem necessary, and will do everything possible to rise in your favour,” Severus lied, never more pleased in his life that he had decided to learn Occlumency.
The Dark Lord examined him for a minute, then entered his mind. Severus offered up the memories he’d prepared: the truth about trivial matters, lies with some memories, and some fabricated ones to bulk up the number of memories. When the Dark Lord left his mind, he examined him a bit longer. Coming to a decision, the Dark Lord opened his mouth.
“I am glad I will not have to make an example of you, Severus. I admit, up until this moment, I was almost convinced you had left. I see now again why I chose you as a spy; so convincing; his own side doesn’t even believe he’s spying for them. Your loyalty is commendable,” the Dark Lord murmured. Deep within Severus’s mind, he thought that the murderer didn’t know how right he was but not in the way he believed formed. Outwardly, he forced a small gleeful look to cross his face. “My Lord is generous,” he pronounced, bowing and standing back in his place in the circle.
The Dark Lord turned towards Potter. With a wave of the Dark Lord’s wand, the ropes tying Potter to the statue disappeared, and Potter fell to the ground. As the Dark Lord ordered Potter to duel him, Severus considered his options. If he gave Potter his wand for the duel, he would be killed. However, if he didn’t do something, Potter would die. The boy couldn’t even stand up: he was using the gun to keep himself up…
As that crossed his mind, the Dark Lord fired a spell at Potter. Somehow, the boy avoided it but slipped in the process, falling onto his back. As the Dark Lord laughed, Severus saw Potter aim, steady himself, and he had enough time to cover his ears before the gun fired with a deafening BANG! He waited long enough to watch the Dark Lord fall over, a hole in his chest, before he broke into a run. (9)
Reaching Potter, he used his wand to summon the body to him (Severus knew some people would refuse to believe The-Man-With-the-Hyphenated-Name had returned. The dead body would force them to. After all, he thought, seeing is believing. Most of the time, anyway.), before Apparating them as close to Hogwarts as the wards would allow.
The Fight (Part 2)
Severus, the boy and the body landed on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. He spared enough time to Disillusion the body before turning to Potter, who couldn’t stay upright even while using the gun as a walking stick. The boy was having none of it; with a shout of, “Leave me alone!”, he managed to fall over again. Grabbing the gun (he didn’t want a repeat performance, with the gun being pointed at him this time), he tried to calm Potter down. When an idea sprang to mind, he jumped on it.
“Remember when I believed you about Malfoy because you were willing to take Veritaserum if necessary?” he interrupted Potter’s shouts. He shut up, glaring at Severus, before nodding. “Then grant me the same courtesy when I say I’m willing to take Veritaserum and say I was spying on him-” he nodded towards the body, “-for Dumbledore.” Potter was still glaring at him, though some of the harshness was gone and curiosity showed.
“Why?” Potter asked. Severus sighed, glancing towards the castle. He could see someone walking down to them, and he wanted to be finished before the person would overhear. “I’ll tell you the long version later, but for now, I was friends with your mother. We managed to stay friends until fifth year when I called her a horrible name in a fit of embarrassment and she stopped talking to me. I joined the Death Eaters, she joined the Potter family, and when I heard he wanted to go after her I begged Dumbledore to hide them. When he asked what he would get in return, I replied, “Anything”. When it was unsuccessful, I still had a debt to pay, so I became Dumbledore’s spy”, he explained.
The boy was looking at him with interest. He reflected ironically that this was the longest civil conversation they’d had. The man coming down from the castle would be with them in a minute and, catching sight of the gun, Severus wondered how Potter had gotten it. The boy snickered when the question was put to him; “I thought a high-and-mighty Slytherin wouldn’t know what a gun was”. He snorted. “This high-and-mighty Slytherin, as you put it, is a half-blood raised in the muggle world. So yes, I know what a gun is. You still haven’t answered my question, though.” he stated, refusing to be diverted. Potter laughed.
“I asked Lupin to get a prank stick from the Dursleys. I told him it let off loud bangs, which I thought could frighten some of the creatures in the maze, and I mentioned where the Dursleys had put it. I didn’t tell him it was a more painful muggle version of Avada Kedavra, and Uncle Vernon wouldn’t be happy if it went missing,” Potter mentioned, smirking. Severus was impressed, despite himself. As they realised the person was Mad-Eye, and he was almost upon them, Potter turned. “Don't tell him what this is. If we find the person Voldemort-” he flinched, but Potter ignored it “- put in Hogwarts, this could come as a nasty surprise, and Professor Moody could ruin it”.
Before he could respond, Alastor started interrogating them. First, he asked them things about themselves (Severus reckoned it was to make sure they weren’t imposters). Once their identities were confirmed, Alastor placed Potter’s left arm around his shoulder and together, they made their way back up to the castle, with the gun being used by the boy as a walking aid.
“Can we go to the Hospital Wing?” Potter enquired wearily. Alastor shook his head, his magical eye whizzing around. “Sorry, laddie. The Headmaster wanted you to meet him in my office when you got back. Besides, I’ve got a set of Healing Potions in my trunk. They’re not as good as Madam Pomfrey, but I have Pain Relief, Sleeping and-” he glanced at Potter’s arm, “- Blood-Replenishing Potions, which should see you through the meeting”. Potter glanced at Severus, who shrugged.
It took them fifteen minutes to reach Moody’s office. He didn’t seem surprised to find it empty, muttering that Dumbledore wanted to talk to Diggory. Placing Potter on a stool, Severus went looking for the Potions. Deciding that they’d do, he made sure Potter drank them. Potter’s first question was about Diggory. Alastor shrugged. “He’s fine. Left the Hospital Wing after an hour. Had a few cuts and a minor burn, but he’ll live”. Potter sighed with relief, and Alastor shifted.
“So, what happened? Start from when you entered the maze, until I found the pair of you outside Hogsmeade,” Alastor ordered. Severus’s eyebrow rose at the tone, but Potter didn’t notice. He listened as the boy talked about how he’d used a potion (if that’s what he wants Mad-Eye to believe, I’m not going to give the jig up, he thought) to get through the hedges, how he’d met up with Diggory and they’d had to Stun an Imperio‘d Krum (he noticed Mad-Eye jolted at that part).
Potter had insisted they both grab the Cup together, and when they realised the Cup was a Portkey (Alastor’s hand twitched, and Severus was starting to pay more attention to him than the story), he’d insisted Diggory grab the Cup and tell everyone back at Hogwarts. He skimmed over Voldemort’s return, the events with the Death Eaters, and their return to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Potter failed to mention the body, which was still where they’d left it, though he couldn’t figure out whether it was a deliberate move or not.
When Potter fell silent, Alastor glared at Severus. “Potter, why’d you believe him when he said he was a spy? Are you a fool? A Death Eater never leaves the fold, except when they stop breathing,” Mad-Eye growled, managing to sound threatening without a wand in his hand. Before Severus could start to feel too indignant, Potter cut in. “I didn’t. Not until he put three drops of Veritaserum in his mouth and I was able to ask him”. He managed to not show his surprise at the boy’s blatant lie, but he was feeling… grateful for it. His weird feelings disappeared with Mad-Eye’s next words.
“You believed him? How do you know he didn’t drink water instead? Then he could lie to his heart’s content!” Mad-Eye yelled, now pointing his wand at him. Severus was annoyed at the attacks on his motives, but Potter was on a roll with the lies. “I didn’t. So I also took three drops, and when Professor Snape asked me a few questions, I answered. He’s telling the truth, Professor Moody,” Potter announced. He was astonished at the boy’s ability: if he didn’t know the truth, he’d have believed him.
Mad-Eye switched topics, wand still pointed at him. Severus thought Mad-Eye’s hair was changing colour, but he dismissed it as a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. “What was it like?” Seeing the confusion on both their faces, he clarified, “Being there? Watching him in the graveyard, with the Death Eaters?”
“Scary”.
“Informative”.
“Oh? What did the Dark Lord say?” Mad-Eye asked, turning towards Potter, leaving Severus time to frown. Mad-Eye’s hair was still changing,; and only Death Eaters used the Dark Lord… “He mentioned he had a spy here. He didn’t say, but I've got an idea who it is,” the boy stated, eyeing Moody, who (finally, in his opinion) stopped pointing the wand at him. When Potter didn’t continue, Mad-Eye waved his hand impatiently. Potter smiled (not a happy smile, he mused; moreso grim than anything).
“Tell me first how you knew about the graveyard when neither Professor Snape nor I had mentioned it?” Potter enquired, causing Severus to let out a breath at his stupidity. Mad-Eye backed off so he could see both of them at the same time, his wand pointed at the floor between the two of them to give him an advantage if they did something Moody didn’t like.
“Do either of you know how awful Polyjuice tastes?” Not-Mad-Eye enquired, as his wooden leg fell off and a new one started growing in its place. Severus was surprised when Potter also nodded, wondering when he’d tasted it. “Well, it worked. It got me into Hogwarts, close to the Triwizard Cup. I snuck in at night and put your name in. I gave you the hint for the First Task, I told Diggory about the Second Task so he’d tell you, I carried the Cup into the maze and hanged it into a Portkey, and I Imperio‘d Krum to take out the rest of the competition (so THAT was what he was doing by the maze, he realised)”.
During his speech, Not-Mad-Eye had ripped out the magical eye (which was replaced by a normal one) and his leg finished growing. By the time he was finished, Not-Mad-Eye was a pale-skinned, fair-haired, younger man who Severus had previously believed to be dead for over ten years. Barty Crouch Jr. He was further surprised when Potter seemed to recognise him. As Barty fell prey to the tell-all illness about his life, he was trying to think of a way out.
Potter was adjusting the gun, he noticed. Nothing major’ he was turning it on the floor (10) until it was pointing in the direction of Barty. When Potter got it pointed in the right direction and had both hands on the gun, Severus covered his ears in preparation, drawing Barty’s attention away from Potter. One loud BANG! later, and he was saved from having to listen to the man’s wafflings.
“Well, thank Merlin for that,” Potter muttered. He turned to Severus. “I’ll head to the Hospital Wing if you’ll bring both bodies to Dumbledore, so he can announce what happened to the world,” he murmured. Dropping the gun, he stood up and hobbled to the door.
“Some of those tactics could have come from a Slytherin,” Severus blurted. He meant it as a compliment, but he expected the boy to be angry at what he would see as an insult. “The Hat almost put me in Slytherin,” Potter admitted, laughing. He limped out of the room.
Severus sat there, stunned before he allowed himself to laugh. For a second.
Críochnaithe