Nearly

One evening at the end of May the champions are called down to the Quidditch pitch to get their instructions for the Third Task, so Harry leaves Draco and their friends in the Common Room and walks back upstairs. As he makes his way across the lawn, he can see Krum slouch down the plank from the Durmstrang ship. He waves his hand to get the other boy’s attention. 

Krum steps off the plank and shuffles along the shore, watching Harry expectantly as he approaches. He doesn’t smile, but his brow seems to unfurrow slightly at least, which Harry figures is close enough… As he reaches him, the older boy gives him a somber nod and starts walking again. Harry falls into step with him and they make their way to the Quidditch Stadium in comfortable silence. 

When they get there, Ludo Bagman and Fleur is already standing at the edge of the pitch. Except it doesn’t look anything like the pitch Harry is used to anymore. The usually smooth grass surface has now been divided into countless compartments by a series of low walls weaving together in an intricate design all across the pitch. 

”Hello, hello!” Bagman exclaims.

Harry tears his eyes away from the nearest wall and looks over at the Ministry Official, catching him staring back excitedly. 

”Hello”, he and Krum mutter in unison. 

”What do you think?” Bagman asks, still beaming at Harry. ”Come on, let’s have a closer look!”

He steps over the first wall awkwardly and begins to move towards the centre of the pitch. Harry and the other two champions follow him and when they get closer to the first wall, Harry realises it’s actually a hedge. 

”Growing nicely!” Bagman says, panting as they stop close to the centre. ”Very nicely! Golly, they weren’t this high when I was inspecting them the other day… oh, there’s Diggory — Hello, hello! Over here!”

Harry turns to see the Hufflepuff Sixth Year begin to climb the first hedge, his long limbs flowing over the obstacle seemingly without any effort at all, making him look a lot more graceful than either of them had been. Harry scowls to himself and turns back around to face Bagman, but quickly looks down instead when the man gives him one of his infernal winks. 

Finally, Diggory joins them — and he’s not even out of breath, Harry thinks sourly — and Bagman begins talking once more, asking them what they think the hedges are all about. 

”Maze”, Krum grunts. 

”That’s right!” Bagman exclaims happily. ”The Third Task is very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed here, in the centre of the maze, and your job is to get to it. The first champion to touch the cup will receive full marks — of course, there will be obstacles along the way — Hagrid is supplying a number of creatures for example and there will be spells that need to be broken and that sort of thing!”

Harry feels like he’s swallowed a heavy weight. Spell breaking… Glancing around at the other champions, he’s once again reminded of how much older they all are. Thinking back to when he practised Stunning and Disarming with his daddy, he realises he’s so out of his league that it’s ridiculous. 

He really doesn’t care about winning — if anything, he would like to come in close second, just to prove to everyone that he’s capable of winning, but without actually winning — that way he would earn the respect of the rest of the school and still please both his dads and Draco and his friends. But by the sounds of it, he’s lucky if he even gets out of the maze alive…

”Now, the champion who is in the lead will get a head start into the maze”, Bagman says and beams at Harry again. 

Harry tries to smile back, but he’s almost certain that it comes off as a grimace more than anything, which is probably why Bagman seems determined to keep up with him when they all start to climb back over the hedges again. Not wanting to have to turn down any more offers of illegal help, Harry picks up his pace and as soon as he’s heaved himself over the last hedge, he hurries through the gap between the stands hoping to shake Bagman off. 

The former Quidditch star is surprisingly quick though, despite being obviously unfit, and Harry can hear him wheezing behind him as he gets closer to the castle. Thinking on his feet, Harry darts off the path and continues to walk down the lawn on the other side. 

”Harry!” Bagman calls after him. ”It’s almost curfew, where are you going—?”

”I know, it’s okay —!” Harry calls back, then looks around desperately for an excuse, but all that’s in front of him is the forest and the greenhouses, but then he spots Hagrid’s hut and quickly veers towards that instead. ”I’ve got detention with Hagrid!”

”I’ll just wait for you then, shall I—?”

”That’s okay, I’ll probably be hours!” Harry shouts back, hoping Hagrid isn’t home and has heard him. 

He makes a beeline for the paddock next to the small house and darts inside, moving to stand where he knows Bagman won’t be able to see him. He then stands very still and listens for any approaching footsteps, but it would seem as though the man has finally taken the hint. 

Harry gives it another few minutes, then carefully leans forward to check if the coast is clear. 

The lawn is empty. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry begins to walk out of the paddock again. He’s just about to make his way back to the castle when he remembers Bagman saying Hagrid would supply a bunch of creatures that would be inside the maze during the Third Task. He wonders if he’s already got some of them ready and where he’s keeping them… can’t hurt to have a poke around, he thinks.

But a closer inspection of the paddock reveals nothing besides the Beauxbatons horses and Harry can’t see any huge crates anywhere on the lawn around the hut either. He looks towards the forest, thinking it would make sense for the creatures to be kept in there… I’m not going in there, though… 

Harry is just about to turn back to the castle, when he sees something move between the trees. Hunching down, he peers intently into the darkness of the forest. 

Suddenly, a man comes stumbling out from behind a massive oak tree and Harry’s heart jumps into his throat. Steeling himself for a possible attack, Harry fumbles with his wand.

But the man doesn’t attempt to attack Harry. He doesn’t even appear to see him at all. Instead, he stumbles forward and looks around him wildly, gesturing with twitchy movements and muttering to himself… except, he seems to think he’s talking to someone, Harry thinks and begins to approach the man cautiously. 

It’s not until he’s a few meters away that he realises he actually knows who the man is. His ruffled appearance and long, matted hair and overgrown moustache has made him nearly unrecognisable, but as Harry steps closer he can tell that it’s none other than Barty Crouch… but what’s happened to him? Harry thinks in alarm. 

The man’s robes are torn and bloody, his gaunt face is scratched like he’s been stumbling through the forest for days — and maybe he has, he certainly looks exhausted enough! 

”… and when you’ve done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the Tournament”, the man tells the oak tree. ”Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve—”

”Mr Crouch?” Harry says, taking another couple of careful steps closer to him. 

The man’s head twitches in his direction, but then his eyes focus on the tree again and he continues raving about the preparations for the Triwizard Tournament, his hand movements growing more and more frantic. Then suddenly he cuts himself off and just stares silently at the tree, his eyes bulging. Harry takes another step closer to him. 

”Mr Crouch, are you all right —?”

With a sudden spasmodic jerk of his head, Mr Crouch flings himself backwards and lands in a sprawling heap at Harry’s feet, his eyes rolling back into his head. Harry springs forward and crouches next to him, reaching out to tap the man’s chest hesitantly. 

”Mr Crouch? Mr Crouch!”

”Dumbledore!” the man gasps and surges upwards, knocking Harry back as he clambers to grab onto his robes. ”I need to see… Dumbledore… I’ve done… stupid thing…”

He groans, his eyes bulging and rolling again. Harry tries to pry his fingers away from his robes and scrambles back from him. 

”O-Okay, okay, we’ll go see Dumbledore…” he says as calmly as he can. ”If you just… let go of me and get up, I’ll… I’ll take you up to the castle, okay?”

”Must… tell… Dumbledore”, Mr Crouch gasps quietly, his fingers finally falling away from Harry’s robes front and he crumbles to the ground again. ”All my… fault… have to tell… Dumbledore…”

”Okay, well, get up, Mr Crouch”, Harry says, getting to his feet shakily. ”Mr Crouch, get up!”

The man clutches his dirty hair with another groan, as though he’s in extreme pain. Harry hesitates, not really wanting the man to grab ahold of him again and pull him down… 

”Mr Crouch”, he says loudly and sternly. ”Get up!”

The man flinches as though Harry has kicked him, but then he lets go of his hair again and looks up at Harry with bulging eyes. For the first time they seem completely focused, like he’s really seeing Harry and for a second, Harry feels relieved, but then there’s a flash of fear in the man’s eyes and he cringes back.

”Who are… you?” he whispers. 

”I’m a student at the school”, Harry says calmly. ”I will take you to see Dumbledore, if you just get—”

”Dumbledore?”

”Yes”, Harry says. ”If you just—”

”You’re not… his?”

”What?” Harry snaps impatiently. 

”You’re… Dumbledore’s? Not… not his?”

”I’m… no”, Harry says, having no idea who the man is talking about. ”No, I’m not. I can help—”

”Get… Dumbledore…”

”Fine!” Harry huffs. ”I’ll go get Dumbledore, if you just stay here…”

”Thank you, Weatherby”, Mr Crouch says swiftly, his voice strong and clear again as he snaps his attention back to the oak tree. ”And when you’ve done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert with Mr and Mrs Fudge… yes, my son has recently gained twelve OWLs, most satisfactorily, yes, thank you, yes, I’m very proud indeed… now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister—”

Sirius had been right when he said Mr Crouch had gone round the bend… he seems to think his wife and son are stil alive, but according to Harry’s dads, both of them have been dead for over ten years!

Feeling a twinge of sympathy for the man, Harry shakes his head and starts to back away from him. Immediately, Mr Crouch lets out a wail and throws himself at Harry. Locking his arms around his legs, he begs Harry not to leave him. 

Harry loses his balance and falls to the ground heavily. With his heart pounding in his chest, he begins to scramble backwards, kicking Mr Crouch off.

”Please…” the man gasps desperately. ”Must warn… Dumbledore… my fault… Bertha… dead… my son… my fault…  tell Dumbledore… Harry Potter… the Dark Lord… stronger… Harry… Harry Potter… tell… tell Dumbledore…”

”All right, already!” Harry shouts. ”I’m getting him! But I can’t get him unless I leave!”

”No, please, don’t… leave… me…” he trails off faintly, his eyes rolling back into his head. 

”Just wait here, I’ll be quick”, Harry says and jumps to his feet again. ”I’m getting Dumbledore, okay? Just wait here!”

Harry turns around and begins to run back to the castle. He sprints up the stone steps, through the oak front doors and across the Entrance Hall, his steps echoing eerily around him. Taking the marble stairs two at a time, he finally reaches the second floor and comes to a thudding stop in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office. 

It then occurs to Harry that he has no idea what the password is. The last time he’d visited the Headmaster’s Office, back in Second Year, it had been Sherbet lemon, but he has no idea what it might be now…

”Sherbet lemon?” he says hopefully, but nothing happens. 

The stone gargoyle remains still, glaring back at Harry almost smugly. Harry scowls at it. 

”Just… Move! I need to see the Headmaster, it’s an emergency!”

The stone gargoyle continues to glare back at him. Stubbornly still. Looking around desperately, Harry tries to think… he can go to the staff room, and hope someone is still there. It’s not that late, he thinks doubtfully. Well, it’s his best bet anyway. If that fails, he’ll run down to the dungeons and try and find Professor Snape. 

Mind made up, Harry begins to run in the direction of the staff room. But he’s only made it a few metres, when a familiar voice calls his name. Skidding to an abrupt halt, Harry wheels back around. 

The stone gargoyle has moved aside, revealing the hidden staircase behind and Professor Snape is stepping off the revolving spiral stairs. He looks just as grim as usual, his dark eyes narrowed into suspicious slits as he beckons Harry closer. Feeling a surge of relief, Harry runs back and nearly crashes into the man in his eagerness. 

”What do you think you’re doing out of bed—?”

”Professor!” Harry gasps. ”I need to get Dumbledore! — It’s Mr Crouch, Sir — in the forest — in a bad way, raving mad!”

”What?” Snape hisses. 

”He kept talking about his family like they’re alive, but then — said something about warning Dumbledore about the Dark Lord and — and he mentioned me and — someone called Bertha being dead, and that it’s all his fault!”

”Come with me…” Snape says swiftly and turns back to the gargoyle. 

But before he’s had a chance to give the new password, the gargoyle springs to life again and moves to the side and Professor Dumbledore steps down from the spiral staircase and out into the corridor. He looks between Professor Snape and Harry with a subtle frown. 

”Is there a problem—?”

”I don’t know”, Professor Snape says. ”Harry says he’s found Barty in the Forest.”

”In the Forest?” Dumbledore repeats in surprise, turning to Harry.

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says. ”And he says he needs to talk to you, warn you!”

”Well, then… lead the way, Harry!” Dumbledore says quickly. 

Harry nods and quickly spins back around and starts hurrying down the corridor, both professors close on his heal. 

”What exactly did Mr Crouch say, Harry?” Dumbledore asks as they descend the marble staircase. 

”He wasn’t making much sense”, Harry says. ”He kept saying he needs to warn you about something that’s his fault and he mentioned his son and someone called Bertha…”

”And you said he mentioned the Dark Lord”, Professor Snape says. 

”Yeah”, Harry nods, slipping out the front doors as his Head of House holds it open for him. ”He mentioned him and then me as well… but half the time he didn’t even seem to know where he was, he kept talking to a tree like it was his assistant, asking it to make him a cup of tea and talking about the preparations for the Triwizard Tournament, like he thought it was still summer… but then he said something about his son just passing his OWLs as well…”

Harry stumbles over his own feet, trying to keep up with the professors who have both begun to walk quicker and quicker as he’s told them everything. Professor Snape reaches out to steady him, without breaking his stride. Dumbledore walking ahead of them, his lit wand held aloft. 

”This way?” he asks Harry over his shoulder. 

”Little to the left”, Harry gasps, jogging to keep up. 

Harry can see the large oak tree that Mr Crouch had been in conversation with and points it out to the Headmaster, but when they reach it Crouch isn’t there anymore… 

”He was right here”, Harry says, looking around. ”He was talking to this tree…”

”You’re sure it was this one, Harry?” Snape says quietly. 

”Yes, Sir, I’m positive!”

Dumbledore holds his wand out and steps around the massive tree trunk. 

”Oh…” they hear him sigh. 

”What, what is it—?” Harry says, following him. 

”Harry, wait—” Snape says quickly. 

He grabs at Harry’s arm, but it’s too late… In the dim sphere of Dumbledore’s Lumos spell, Harry can see a pair of feet sticking out from behind the tree. He immediately recognises the black leather shoes as those of Mr Crouch. Heart stuttering in his chest, Harry tells himself the man must have fainted again… but gazing up into the Headmaster’s face, drained of blood and with a deep frown etched onto it, he knows it’s worse than that. 

”Harry, come on…” Snape says quietly, looping an arm around his shoulders and gently and pulling him back. ”I’ll take you to the Common Room…”

”But…” 

”Go with Professor Snape, Harry…” Dumbledore says, his light blue eyes flitting from the body on the ground to lock with his own. ”There’s nothing you can do here…”

Harry swallows thickly and nods, allowing himself to be guided around by Snape.

”Oh, and Severus”, Dumbledore adds. ”Alert Alastor, will you—?”

”No need, Headmaster…” a gruff voice growls suddenly. 

They all turn to see Moody come hobbling out of the darkness, along the edge of the Forest, looking grimmer than ever. 

”I heard Potter shouting, came as soon as I could”, he grunts.

Harry frowns. He hadn’t been shouting… Glancing up into Professor Snape’s face, he can tell his Head of House looks sceptical as well. But Dumbledore seems satisfied with the explanation. 

”Come on, Harry…” Snape says again. 

Harry falls into step with him and they walk back up to the castle in silence. For the first time since Hallowe’en, Harry is reminded of the seriousness of someone entering him into the Tournament. He’s been so wrapped up in his worry about getting through the actual tasks, that he’s forgotten why he was scared in the first place, and why his dads and the professors have been worried about him — sure, part of the reason is the danger of the actual tasks, but Harry knows now that he’s never been in any real danger, none of the champions have — but there is a real danger… 

There is someone who wants to do him real harm, and it’s not a dragon or a merperson, it’s a human being, probably a Death Eater… and whoever they are, they’ve just murdered Barty Crouch, because he was going to warn Dumbledore…

Professor Snape walks him to the Common Room and finally turns to face him for the first time since they left the Forest. His eyes are clouded with worry, but he keeps his face neutral and calm. Harry swallows nervously. 

”Try and get some sleep”, Snape says quietly. 

”Yeah, I’ll… I’ll try…” 

”Whatever you do, don’t leave the dormitory. Any letters you might want to send, can wait until morning… is that understood?”

Harry nods quickly. 

”All right… good night, then, Harry…”

Professor Snape remains standing in the middle of the Common Room until Harry has disappeared into the Fourth Year’s boys’ dorm. 

”There you are!” Draco hisses from his four-poster bed. ”Where have you been?”

Harry looks around at the other beds to make sure the other boys are sleeping, then walks over and sits down at the foot of Draco’s bed and tells him everything. 

”D-Dead?” Draco squeaks. ”But…”

”I don’t know who killed him”, Harry says. ”If only I had brought the map with me… I might have caught their name before they left the grounds…”

”Well…” Draco says hoarsely. ”Just as well…”

”What do you mean?”

”I mean, you don’t want to get on the wrong foot with a… a murderer… do you…”

”I think it’s a little late for that”, Harry says wryly. 

”What do you mean?”

”I think whoever killed Mr Crouch is the same person who put my name in the Goblet of Fire… it’s just too much of a coincidence, think about it… plus Crouch mentioned me when he was rambling, he said something about the Dark Lord getting stronger and then he said my name…”

Draco’s eyes grow impossibly round in the gloom and Harry can see his throat working frantically. 

”Hey…” he murmurs and scrambles up the bed and curls up next to the other boy, giving him a small but reassuring smile. ”It’s okay… we’re safe here…”

”How can you say that?” Draco whispers, staring at him. 

”Well, because… because we’re at Hogwarts… we’re in our dorm—”

”Harry”, Draco croaks, shaking his head. ”If they put your name in the Goblet of Fire, that means they can get inside Hogwarts!”

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest, but he keeps his face neutral. 

”Well, they can’t get inside the dorm”, he says with a certainty he definitely doesn’t feel. 

Draco just shakes his head again. 

Next morning, Draco accompanies Harry to the owlery so that he can send his letter to his dads off before they head to the Great Hall for breakfast. He’d debated with himself for hours the night before, while he lay curled up next to Draco, unable to fall asleep, whether it was really a good idea to tell his dads about Mr Crouch, knowing how much they’ll worry… but finally, he’d decided that if they were to hear about it from someone else and he hasn’t told them, it will be a lot worse. 

So as soon as he woke up, he grabbed some parchment and borrowed one of Draco’s ink wells and jotted down a quick message telling them all about it, but made sure to put an emphasis on him being all right and safe. 

They’re only halfway through breakfast when Hedwig arrives with his dads’ reply. 

Sighing heavily, Harry unties the small roll of parchment from her leg. An immediate reply can only mean bad news… the fact that Hedwig doesn’t take off again, but waits for him to read the letter, only confirms that his dads are upset… 

”Harry, 

 

What do you think you’re playing at, walking around the Forbidden Forest alone at night? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to leave the castle alone after dark again! 

 

A highly dangerous witch or wizard is on the loose and we know they have it in for you, Harry! They put your name in the Goblet of Fire, and that is not a matter that should be taken lightly, just because you’ve done all right in the tournament so far! 

 

If what you’ve told us about last night is true, this person obviously has no qualms about committing murder, and they must have been only feet away from you last night! DO YOU REALISE HOW CLOSE YOU WERE TO BEING KILLED?

 

You need to be more careful Harry, I mean it — do not put yourself at risk again, do you hear me? I’m sorry about Crouch, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. You need to look after yourself now. Whoever is trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance now with the third task. PLEASE BE CAREFUL!

 

I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you will stay safe from now on. 

 

Love

your daddy”

 

Harry sighs again, hanging his head. 

”What’s wrong?” Draco says immediately. 

”My dads…” Harry mutters, rubbing his hand over his face, feeling the lack of sleep even stronger now. ”I need to write them another letter, before DADA… I’ll see you in the classroom, okay?”

He climbs off the bench and holds out his arm for Hedwig. She immediately flaps her wings and flies over to him, landing gracefully on top of his arm, then digging her talons into his school robes and climbing to the top of his shoulder. He gives her a tired smile as she nips affectionately at his ear. 

”Okay”, Draco says, worrying his lip. 

”It’s fine”, Harry says. ”They’re just… a bit angry with me… for being in the forest in the first place.”

”Yeah, I get that”, Draco says. ”I didn’t want to say anything last night ’cause you were a bit upset, but really—”

”Yeah, I know”, Harry mutters. ”Don’t you start as well… I’ll see you later.”

Having to go all the way back to the owlery again, Harry arrives late for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Professor Moody doesn’t say anything. Just gives him a small nod of acknowledgement when he gasps out an apology. He looks just as tired as Harry feels, his good eye drooping with exhaustion that makes his face look even more lop-sided. 

Harry hurries over to where Draco is sitting and slides into the seat next to him. 

”All right?” the blonde murmurs under his breath. 

Harry nods, keeping his gaze fixed on Moody. 

As the bell rings at the end of the lesson, Harry lingers behind. Draco and his friends stop inside the door and look expectantly at him. 

”Just a sec…” he says, walking up the aisle towards the Teacher’s Desk where Moody sits slumped in his chair. ”Professor?”

”What is it, Potter?” the man grunts. 

”Did you… did you find them?”

The magical eye swivels around to fix on Harry’s face. It makes Harry’s skin prickle uncomfortably, but he stands his ground and keeps his own eyes fixed on the man’s dark eye. 

”No… nothing… whoever killed Barty must have got away while you were up at the castle…”

”What were you doing out there, Sir?” Harry asks carefully. ”You told Dumbledore you heard me—?”

The magical eye seems to be quivering in its socket and a grim smile stretches the Ex-Auror’s lop-sided mouth. Harry represses a shiver. 

”I was inspecting the maze… when I saw Karkaroff lurking about, and I decided to… well, inspect him as well… I shadowed him until he went onboard that monstrosity of a ship of his, and was just about to head back to the castle when I heard you…”

”Okay…” Harry says. 

”I like the way your mind works, Potter…” Moody says, his horrible grin stretching even wider. ”You’d make a decent Auror…”

”Thanks”, Harry mumbles, smiling back awkwardly. 

When he joins his friends at the door, Draco leans in close and hisses, ”Before you get any ideas, can I just point out… He was a great Auror…”

”Relax”, Harry mutters. 

Despite the spring sun shining down on the castle, the fire is as ever lit in Divination classroom, turning the cramped room into a oven. Within minutes, Harry is boiling under his robes… but despite this, the lack of sleep the night before starts to catch up to him in the dim light, especially when Professor Trelawny dims it even further by extinguishing all the lamps, so that they can all study a miniature of Mars inside a glass dome that she places in the middle of the classroom. 

Soon the heavy incense combined with the gentle drone of Trelawny’s voice lulls Harry into a light doze. No matter how hard he struggles to keep his eyes open, the lids grow heavier and heavier… he turns his head slightly to catch some of the fresh air he feels trickling in through a small gap in one of the windows, spotting the shadow of an insect of some sort as it flits back and forth on the other side of the curtained window, as if trying to get inside… 

Stupid bug, Harry thinks. Should be glad to be outside in the fresh air… It would die in here… I’m dying in here… 

He’s riding on the back of an eagle owl, soaring across the bright blue sky, the breeze cooling his skin… A hill rises up in front of them and on top of it stands a house covered in ivy. The owl plummets and soars in through a broken window on the top floor of the house, then continues to fly through the house, until they reach a dark room at the very end of the gloomy passage. The windows in this room are all boarded up. 

Harry drops from the back of the owl and watches as it flutters over to an armchair standing on the other side of the room with its high back facing Harry. Looking down, he sees two dark shapes on the floor on either side of the chair, both of them stirring awake… One is a huge snake… and the other a plump little man with a balding head and watery, beady eyes… Wormtail, Harry thinks with a pang. 

”You are in luck, Wormtail…” a cold, high-pitched voice hisses from the armchair, confirming Harry’s thought. ”You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead.”

”Mr Lord!” Wormtail gasps, sitting up and cowering slightly, his whole body trembling. ”My Lord, I am — I am so pleased — so pleased and s-sorry!”

”Nagini”, the cold voice continues with a hiss. ”You are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you after all…”

The snake coils a little tighter and hisses… you promised… 

”Never mind, never mind… there is still Harry Potter… Now, Wormtail”, the voice adds in a harder voice. ”Perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you…”

”My Lord, no… I beg you—”

The tip of a wand appears from behind the back of the armchair, pointing at the trembling man’s chest. 

”Crucio!”

Wormtail collapses on the floor with a blood-curdling scream, his whole body convulsing in violent spasms that reminds Harry briefly of the spider in Defence Against the Dark Arts, before his scar suddenly bursts open and he can’t think of anything but the pain and Wormtail’s screams anymore… the screams grow higher and higher… Harry is screaming too… he can’t help it, the pain is too much… Voldemort will hear him and know he’s right here, he’ll kill him… but it doesn’t matter, because he can’t keep the screams in —

”Harry! HARRY!”

Someone is shaking him. He thrashes around, swatting at them, but the hands are stubborn and insistent. He blinks his eyes open and jerks up, scrambling up to sitting… the whole class is standing around him, staring in alarm and Draco… Draco is kneeling next to him on the floor, watching him with terrified eyes… 

Harry looks around and realises he must have fallen off his chintz chair and… was I screaming too? he thinks frantically, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Sweat is pouring down his forehead. He wipes his sleeve across his face and hisses in pain as the rough material brushes against his scar… so the pain was real… what the hell… 

”Harry, are you all right?” Draco asks in a hushed voice. 

”I’m… I’m fine…” Harry lies. 

”Of course he isn’t”, Trewlawny exclaims importantly, ignoring his answer altogether. ”What was it, Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?”

He twists around and stares up at her with a frown. Her magnified eyes are bulging more than ever behind her spectacles and she looks positively excited. 

”Nothing”, he says quickly. 

”Come now, boy!” Trelawny says impatiently. ”I have experience in these matters, I can help you make sense of your vision!”

”I didn’t have a vision!” Harry snaps angrily. 

”You were clutching your scar! You were rolling around on the floor, screaming—!”

Great, Harry thinks, swallowing a surge of bile. 

”I… I have to go to the Hospital Wing, I think”, he mumbles. ”I have a… a headache…”

”My dear”, Trelawny says, fluttering her shawls around her impatiently. ”You were undoubtedly affected by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room, if you leave you may lose the opportunity to see further—”

”Fine by me”, Harry mutters, struggling to stand on his shaky legs. 

”I’ll take him to the Hospital Wing, Professor”, Draco says, looping an arm around Harry’s waist before grabbing his bag from the floor. ”Come on…”

As soon as they’ve reached the bottom of the stepladder, Draco turns to him with worried eyes. 

”I don’t actually need to go to the Hospital Wing, I’m fine”, Harry assures him quickly. 

”What do you want to do?” Draco asks. 

”I just need some fresh air, I think… and I should probably write to my dads and tell them…”

Draco nods quickly, digging out some parchment and a quill from his bag. They walk to the owlery and Harry lowers himself to the ground and sits cross-legged. Draco pulls a face at the owl dropping on the floor and remains standing while he waits for Harry to jot down the message quickly.

He doesn’t want to disturb Hedwig’s sleep again, having already done so twice already today, so he pokes one of the school owls instead and ties the letter to its leg with trembling fingers. 

After the owl has taken off towards Hogsmeade, Harry and Draco make their way down from the owlery again and go for a stroll round the edge of the lake until Harry’s headache and nausea dissipates. Then he tells Draco all about the dream. He’s just finished telling him about his scar beginning to hurt, when the school owl comes soaring towards them.

”That was quick”, Draco says. ”They must think it’s serious…”

”Not necessarily”, Harry says, even though he silently agrees. ”My daddy would stop whatever he was doing to write back to me if I just complained about feeling homesick or worrying about some essay…”

When he unrolls the parchment however, he immediately recognises the handwriting as Sirius’ and not Remus’ and all the short message says is to go see Dumbledore and tell him everything. 

Harry and Draco stare at each other. 

”He can’t be serious”, Harry says flatly. 

”He sounds dead serious”, Draco says. ”Come on…” 

”But… I can’t just waltz into Dumbledore’s office, that’s absurd!” 

”Harry, this is serious!” Draco says sternly, folding his arms. 

”I just had a nightmare—!” 

”It wasn’t just a dream, you know it wasn’t”, Draco counters. ”You even said so yourself!” 

”Yeah, but Dumbledore… I dunno…” Harry mumbles, looking up at the castle uncertainly. 

If he goes to Dumbledore, the whole thing will be so much more serious suddenly. It will be… official and… 

”Fine, we don’t have to go to Dumbledore”, Draco says. ”But let’s go tell Snape at least…” 

”Okay”, Harry says, relenting. 

He doesn’t mind going to Snape who is his Head of House, that’s what he’s there for. Headaches and minor worries. Going to him doesn’t necessarily make the whole thing seem bigger. It might even make it seem smaller, if the Potions Master tells him not to worry about it and just gives him a Pain-Relieving Potion and sends him on his way… Harry is so cheered up by the thought of this, he is genuinely shocked when Professor Snape’s eyes immediately widen in alarm at the first mention of You-Know-Who and he trails of uncertainly. 

”And what was he doing? Who else was there?” Snape prompts. 

”Erm, well, Wormt-t-tail was there, I mean, ehm, Peter Pettigrew… and eh, the snake and ehm, yeah…”

Snape presses his thin lips together grimly and promptly tells Harry to follow him. 

”What? Wh-where—?” Harry stammers, stumbling after the man as he strides off down the dungeon corridor. 

”To see Dumbledore”, Snape says shortly. 

”Really?” Harry more or less whines. ”But I just had a bad dream…”

Professor Snape ignores his comment, and so does Draco. Resigning himself to his fate, Harry shoves his hands into his pockets and stomps after the two of them. 

”Draco, you don’t have to accompany us”, Snape says as an after-thought, as soon as they reach the ground floor.

”But I want to—!”

”I appreciate that, but I really don’t think you should miss Transfiguration.”

”Yes, Sir…” the blonde sighs, then glances over at Harry with a pinched smile. ”I’ll tell Professor McGonagall you’ll be late…”

Harry nods and watches him take off down the corridor at the top of the first landing, while Snape leads him down the passage at which end the large stone gargoyle is situated. He almost has to jog to keep up with Professor Snape and jumps slightly when the man swears suddenly, glaring at his arm watch. 

”I’m going to be late for my next lesson”, he mutters. ”I’ll let just you through, but then I have to leave you.”

”Okay…” Harry says. 

He would never admit it out loud, but he rather wishes Professor Snape would stay at his side. The thought of meeting with Professor Dumbledore alone, makes his stomach churn. Not that the Headmaster is strict in the slightest, quite the opposite… but he always makes Harry feel awkward. It’s just something about his twinkling eyes that seem to see right through Harry, an ability he happens to share with Professor Snape but for some reason, Harry is more okay with Snape reading him. It’s just different. He knows Snape. He knows him well — the man is always looking out for him, in his own special way. 

”Cockroach cluster”, the man barks at the stone gargoyle now, and it immediately jumps aside to reveal the revolving staircase behind. ”There… Make sure you tell the Headmaster everything you can remember, Harry. It’s very important.”

”O-Okay…” Harry says and nods. 

Snape gives him a curt nod, then swirls around and begins to stride back the same way they’d come. Harry watches him disappear down the corridor, but then hurries to jump onto the spiral staircase before the gargoyle decides to jump back again. He knows the password now, but he wouldn’t put it past the Griffin to decide to change it suddenly, just to make life difficult for Harry… 

At the top of the stairs, Harry comes face to face with an oak door and a brass door-knocker that he remembers from the last time he was here, when Professor McGonagall brought him to see the Headmaster. That time, the circular office had been empty, except for Fawkes the phoenix, but now Harry can hear voices through the door. 

”…don’t see the connection, at all”, a man’s voice says and Harry is sure he recognises it from somewhere. ”Ludo says Bertha is perfectly capable of getting herself lost, and although I agree that we had expected to find her by now, all the same… no evidence of foul play, none at all… and that her disappearance should linked with… with… the terrible thing that’s happened to poor old Barty, well, that’s just preposterous…”

”And what exactly do you think’s happened to Barty, think he slipped and fell, Minister?” Moody’s distinctive growl cuts through the other man’s tirade. 

Minister, Harry thinks. I knew I recognised the voice. It’s Fudge. He must be here about Mr Crouch.

”Well, I hesitate to make any statements until a full investigation… but informally… suppose I have to express concern… from what I understand the body was found in the near vicinity of the Beauxbatons carriage? I mean to say… Dumbledore, you know what that woman is…”

”I consider her to be a very able Headmistress”, Dumbledore’s quiet voice can be heard. ”And a formidable dancer.”

”Come now, Dumbledore!” Fudge splutters. ”Is this positive prejudice, because of your acquaintance with Hagrid? You know, they don’t all turn out harmless… if Hagrid can even be called harmless, with that fixation he has with monsters…”

”I no more suspect Madame Maxime, than I suspect Hagrid, Minister”, Dumbledore says, just as quietly and calmly as before. ”I do believe it is you, Cornelius, that is prejudiced…”

”Me? Prejudiced—?”

”Gentlemen”, Moody interrupts. ”I suggest we wrap this up, because I believe Potter wants a word with the Headmaster… he’s just outside the door…”

Harry jumps back from the door guiltily. In the next moment, it swings open and Moody grins at him. 

”Hello, Potter… Come on in…”

”Thanks”, Harry mutters, ducking his head to hide his blush. 

He squeezes past the Ex-Auror awkwardly and stops just inside the door. Dumbledore is sitting behind his massive desk and Cornelius Fudge is standing next to him, wearing his pinstriped cloak and fidgeting with his lime green bowler hat. 

”Harry, my boy!” he exclaims suddenly and beams at him. ”How are you?”

”Fine”, Harry says, looking away. 

The walls of the office are lines with portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses, all of which are fast asleep, just like the last time Harry was here. 

”How may I help you, Harry?” Dumbledore asks gently. 

”Dumbledore”, Fudge protests. ”I really have to get back to the Ministry, so if we could get this over with—?”

”Yes, of course”, Dumbledore says. ”Harry, will you wait here for me while I show the Minister the… the grounds? It shan’t take too long.”

”Fine”, Harry says again. 

The three wizards file out of the office, leaving Harry alone with the sleeping portraits and Fawkes, who’s perched on his peg, also fast asleep by the looks of it, his head tucked under one wing. Harry sighs and looks around idly. On a shelf behind Dumbledore’s desk the Sorting Hat sits, immobile — sleeping as well? he thinks wryly. It’s all a go in here today — and next to the Sorting Hat, mounted inside a glass case, is the large sword that Harry pulled out of the Hat when he was fighting the basilisk inside the Chamber of Secrets in Second Year. 

Walking a little closer to the desk, Harry peers up at it. It’s really a beautiful sword. He never really looked that closely at it at the time, but now he sees the gold hilt is encrusted with beautiful rubies that glint in the sunlight streaming in from the window next to it. And along the blade itself, Harry sees a name has been etched… Godric Gryffidor…Wait…. This is the Sword of Gryffindor? 

Harry blinks in surprise. He’s read about the Sword of Gryffindor in Hogwarts: a history. But he thought the sword only presented itself to Gryffindors in need… Guess not, he thinks. 

Looking around, Harry sighs again. Now that his scar has stopped hurting and his nausea has subsided, the whole thing feels even more ridiculous and he really just wants to leave again. But he’d promised Professor Snape he would tell Dumbledore everything, so sits down in the chair in front of the desk and waits for the Headmaster to return. 

Something shimmers in his peripheral and he looks up at the Sword of Gryffindor again, but it’s not the sword that’s caught his eye… it’s a patch of light on the glass case itself. Harry turns around to see where it’s coming from and discovers a black cabinet that hasn’t been closed properly. Through the crack in the door, something shines with a silverly light. 

Glancing at the door quickly, Harry hops to his feet and approaches the cabinet. He opens the door carefully and looks inside. 

Inside sits a stone basin with what appears to be runes carved along the edge. The silvery light turns out to be from the basin’s content, which looks like liquid, but not like any liquid Harry has ever seen before… it looks both misty and shimmering at the same time, and seems to swirl of its own accord… as Harry looks at it, the very surface of the liquid separates like small clouds and he’s not even sure if it is a liquid anymore, it looks almost more like a gas… but then the small clouds come together once more and begin to move like the surface of the lake when a strong breeze hits it. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry grabs his wand from inside his robes and prods the silvery substance carefully. 

Immediately, the surface of the silvery substance begins to swirl incredible fast. It almost makes Harry dizzy to look at, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes away… feeling oddly drawn to the substance, he bends his head closer and stares into the basin from right above… the substance has become completely transparent now and when Harry looks down, it’s like he’s looking through a small circular window, but instead of seeing the bottom of the basin, he finds himself looking into a room. Gasping with excitement, Harry bends his head a little closer and tilts it this way and that, to get a better look inside the dimly lit room. Rows upon rows of benches line the walls in levels, filled with witches and wizards all gazing at an empty chair standing in the middle of the room. 

Squinting at the chair, Harry feels his stomach churn. Something about it seems off… and then he sees it: chains attached to the arms of it, as though its occupant would need to be forcefully tied to it. What is this place? he thinks. 

He tries to tilt his head a little more, so that he can see into the corners of the room, and before he knows it his nose has brushed the surface of the substance. No sooner has the cool sensation registered with him, than the entire Headmaster’s Office gives a massive lurch under his feet and he feels himself falling… 

Suddenly he’s sitting in one of the benches. Looking around in a panic, Harry expects the somber witches and wizards around him to seize him and chain him to the chair, but no-one seems to have noticed his arrival at all… They all keep staring — not at the empty chair, as Harry had thought — but at a door in far corner of the room.

Harry turns to the wizard sitting next to him and immediately jumps in surprise, because the wizard is none other than Professor Dumbledore. 

”P-Professor!” he gasps. ”I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… Sir?…”

But Dumbledore ignores him, just like everyone else. Frowning, Harry looks around. Something about this whole thing feels familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He turns to Dumbledore again.

”Professor Dumbledore”, he says in a loud voice. ”Excuse me, Sir? Can you hear me? Hey, you old coot!”

Nothing. 

”You can’t hear me…” Harry mutters, and just to be sure he waves his hand in front of the Headmaster’s face. ”Or see me… I’m not actually here…”

And then he remembers. Diving into Tom Riddle’s memory of when he’d framed Hagrid for the death of Moaning Myrtle, through his diary… He’d been able to walk around inside the memory, but no-one had seen or heard him then either. He’d just been a voyeur inside something that had already happened years and years ago. Something tells him that this is something similar to that. Except he hadn’t dived into a diary this time… 

Suddenly the door in the corner opens and a man is dragged inside by two other men — or, are they men? Harry thinks doubtfully as he stares at the dark, cloaked figures — whatever they are, they seem to glide soundlessly over the floor, grasping the man with hands that look half rotted, dragging him towards the chair and depositing him almost ceremoniously into it. Immediately the chains spring to life and coil around his arms and torso, securing him to the chair. 

The man, who had more or less been hanging in the figures grasp, looking like he might faint at any moment, suddenly springs to life as well as soon as the figures have glided away from him. He starts thrashing in the confines of the chains and as he tosses his head back, his long, dirty hair moves out of his face and Harry gasps. 

Although he is at least ten years younger and his hair and goatee are black not grey, Harry immediately recognises —

”Igor Karkaroff”, a cold voice says curtly to Harry’s left and leans forward to see who it is and gasps again, recognising a much younger Barty Crouch, his hair dark and his face less lined. ”You have been brought from Azkaban to give evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us.”

”I have, Sir”, Karkaroff wheezes. ”I wish to be of use to the Ministry… I wish to help… I know that the Ministry is trying to… to round up the Dark Lord’s supporters and I am… eager to assist…”

There is a murmurs around the benches. 

”Filth”, a familiar growling voice grunts from the other side of Dumbledore and Harry leans forward to see Mad-Eye Moody sitting there, except he looks much more like a person now, his face not nearly as mangled, although his nose is still missing a chunk he’s got both his eyes still. ”Took me six months to track the bastard down and now Crouch is going to release him again, if he gets enough new names from him… outrageous… let’s hear his information, then throw him back in Azkaban to rot, I say… or better yet, let the Dementors have their way with him…”

Dumbledore says nothing, but frowns slightly. Moody notices as well and chuckles humourlessly. 

”Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot… you don’t like the Dementors, do you, Albus?”

”No, indeed I don’t”, Dumbledore says calmly. ”I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures…”

”You say you have names for us, Karkaroff?” Mr Crouch says curtly. ”Let’s have them, then…”

”You have to understand”, Karkaroff says breathlessly, his whole body trembling inside the confines of the chains. ”that He Who Must Not Be Named operated always in the greatest secrecy, he preferred that we — that’s to say his supporters — and I regret now that I ever counted myself among them —”

”Get on with it”, Moody growls, a little louder this time, so that more people can hear him and Harry can see a few people nod in agreement. 

”— we never knew the names of every one of our fellows, he alone knew exactly who we all were —”

”Yet you say you have some names for us?” Crouch presses. 

”I — I do”, Karkaroff says. ”And these were important supporters, as well… people I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding… I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with remorse so deeply—”

”These names are?” Crouch snaps impatiently. 

”Well, there’s Antonin Dolohov”, Karkaroff says quickly. ”I — I saw him torture countless Muggles and — and non-supporters of the Dark Lord—”

”And helped him do it”, Moody growls. 

”We have already apprehended Dolohov”, Crouch says swiftly. ”He was caught shortly after yourself.”

”I-Indeed”, Karkaroff says, his eyes widening in alarm. ”I — I am delighted to h-hear it!”

”Any others?” Crouch says. 

”Yes, y-yes of course, there was Rosier — Evan Rosier—”

”Rosier is dead”, Crouch cuts him off. 

”Took a piece of me with him too”, Moody grunts and chuckles again. 

”He was also caught shortly after yourself, but unlike yourself he decided not to come in quietly and was killed in the struggle”, Crouch says matter-of-factly. 

”No — no more than he deserved”, Karkaroff croaks, his eyes starting to become panicked now that two of his precious names have turned out to be worthless. 

”Any more?”

”Yes! There was Travers — he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber — he specialised in the Imperius Curse, forced countless of people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He Who Must Not Be Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!”

This time, there is a murmur amongst the people again and Karkaroff, like Harry, realises that he’s managed to surprise them and the relief makes his entire body sag inside the confines of the chains. 

”Rookwood?” Crouch says. ”Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?”

”Yes, yes”, Karkaroff says eagerly. 

”But Travers and Mulciber we have already”, Crouch continues. ”Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide —”

”Not yet!” Karkaroff cries desperately, his eyes flitting frantically to see if the hooded creatures will return to grab him. ”Wait, I have more! Snape — Severus Snape!”

Harry stares, sure he must have misheard. 

”Snape has been cleared by this council”, Crouch says coldly. ”He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore—”

”No!” Karkaroff shouts. ”I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater! In the Dark Lord’s inner circle—!”

Dumbledore stands up suddenly, and a hush breaks out across the entire room. 

”I have given evidence in this matter already”, he says calmly. ”Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater, but prior to the Lord Voldemort’s downfall he turned spy for us at great personal risk… he is now no more a Death Eater than I…”

Professor Snape — a Death Eater? Harry thinks numbly. 

He barely even notices when Crouch tells Karkaroff he will be escorted back to Azkaban pending their decision, but he does notice when the entire room seems to shake around him and he blinks in surprise at finding himself sitting in a different place all of the sudden. Dumbledore is still sitting next to him, but Moody is now sitting on the bench behind them and Mr Crouch is standing on their right. 

The whole atmosphere in the room seems different too. More relaxed than before. People are chatting amongst themselves happily, but Crouch looks just as sour as he always does… did, Harry corrects himself with pang, remembering the man’s feet sticking out from behind that oak tree… 

Feeling his stomach knot, Harry looks up towards the ceiling hopefully. But there is no round window there at all. He has no idea of how he’s supposed to get back to the office. 

”Ludo Bagman —” Crouch says sternly. 

Harry whips his head around and stares in shock, as a younger and fitter Bagman takes a seat in the chair in the middle of the room. The chains remain lifeless and he sprawls out in the chair, looking exactly as relaxed and happy as Harry is used to seeing him. The only difference is in his appearance. His nose is straight still and his body taut with muscle instead of bulging with a beer gut. Harry realises he must still be in his Quidditch hay day.

”—you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters”, Crouch continues.

Harry shakes his head — Ludo Bagman a Death Eater as well? What is this? Soon they’ll be bringing the Sorting Hat out here and accuse that of being a supporter of You-Know-Who!

”Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgement?” Crouch demands. 

”Only…” Bagman smiles a little awkwardly. ”Well, I know I’ve been a bit of an idiot…”

Harry notice several wizards and witches smile indulgently at him. Crouch’s scowl however only deepens and he looks down at Bagman with pure dislike and distaste. 

”Ludovic Bagman”, he says in a loud and carrying voice. ”You were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort’s supporters. For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than—”

His voice is immediately drowned by an outcry from the benches. Several witches and wizards shake their heads, and some even shake their fists at Bagman, to show their disagreement. 

”But I told, I had no idea!” Bagman cries, his smile falling for the first time. ”None at all! Rookwood is an old friend of my dad’s, it never crossed my mind that he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! Rookwood kept telling me he’d get me a job at the Ministry once my Quidditch days are over… I mean, I can’t keep getting hit by bludgers forever, now can I?”

A chorus of chuckles erupts from the benches. 

”It will be put to a vote”, Crouch says coldly. ”Members of the Jury… please raise your hands… all those in favour of imprisonment…”

Everyone looks towards a section of witches and wizards to the left and Harry looks over as well. Not a single hand is raised. Several people along the walls clap in appreciation. 

One of the witches of the Jury stands up gingerly. 

”Yes?” Crouch says impatiently. ”What is it?”

”We would just like to congratulate Mr Bagman on his marvellous performance against Turkey—”

”That’s completely irrelevant!” Crouch barks. 

The witch immediately sits down again. But so does Crouch and Bagman is allowed to leave the chair and the courtroom again. He waves jovially at the audience as they applaud him again. 

The room dissolves and reassembles around Harry again. This time, he and Dumbledore are still sitting next to Barty Crouch, but the atmosphere is back to tense like it was when everyone was waiting for Karkaroff to be brought in. The room is dead silent, except for the small sobs of one single witch sitting on the other side of Crouch. She looks frail and completely miserable, Harry thinks, feeling a twinge of sympathy for her. 

”Bring them in”, Crouch says in an oddly hollow voice. 

The door in the corner slides open and six hooded creatures enter this time, gliding soundlessly across the floor as they escort a group of four people to the middle of the room, where not one but four chair stand now. The four people are guided to sit in the chair and the chains spring to life and shackle them into place. 

On the far left sits a rather burly man who stares blankly at Crouch. In the chair next to him sits a much thinner man who keeps looking around nervously at the people on the benches and next to him sits a woman who is the very opposite of him. Her back is straight like a rod and she stares steadily up at Crouch with heavy-lidded, almost excited eyes. Unlike the other three, she seems almost happy to be there, Harry thinks. And if it hadn’t been for the sneer on her face, she would be beautiful… her dark hair is thick and shiny, falling in large curls around her heart-shaped face. 

The last in the group is a very young man who looks anything but happy to be there. In fact, he looks completely terrified. His whole body is shaking and his freckled face completely drains of blood as he stares up at Crouch. 

The sobbing witch sitting next to Crouch begins to rock back and forth, her sobs growing in volume as she presses the handkerchief to her face. 

Crouch stands up and glares down at the group. Harry leans forwards and peers into his face. Harsh lines are etched there now and look of pure hatred shines in his eyes. 

”You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law”, he says in a steady voice, but Harry can tell he’s trembling all over. ”So that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous —”

”Father…” the young man says suddenly, his voice breaking slightly. ”Father, please…”

His son, Harry thinks with a pang. That’s Crouch’s son… and he remembers what his dads told him, how Crouch sentenced his own son to a life in Azkaban without batting an eye… and he died… just a year later… and his mother, Crouch’s wife — Harry whips his head around and stares in horror at the sobbing witch — she died as well, died of a broken heart…

I don’t want to see anymore! Harry thinks furiously and stands up, looking around desperately.

He’s vaguely aware of Crouch describing the crime that the group stands accused of and his son, Barty Crouch Junior, starts to scream and wail, ”Father, I didn’t! I didn’t, I swear it, Father, please, don’t send me to the Dementors, I didn’t do it—!”

”Someone get me out of here!” Harry screams at the ceiling. ”I don’t want to see anymore, get me out!”

”I now ask the Jury”, Crouch shouts. ”To raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!”

Harry doesn’t need to look over at the Jury to know that they have agreed with Crouch this time. Barty Crouch Junior begins to cry in earnest, thrashing against the chains that shackle him to the chair and up on the bench, only a couple of metres away from Harry, his mother is rocking back and forth, whimpering into her handkerchief, while the audience begin to applaud their agreement with the verdict. 

”Mother!” Crouch Junior screams. ”Mother, please, stop him! I didn’t do anything, Mother, please, it wasn’t me! Don’t let him do this!”

The door in the corner opens and the hooded creatures — the Dementors — come gliding into the room again. 

”The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch!” The heavy-lidded witch says in a loud voice, her eyes gleaming. ”Throw us in Azkaban, we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us! He will reward us! We alone were faithful to him! We alone tried to find him!”

She stands up from the chair as soon as the chains unshackle her, as so does the other two men as well, and they follow the Dementors willingly, their heads held high. But Barty Crouch Junior, even as the creatures begin to sap his energy, tries to fight them, screaming hysterically by now. 

”No! No, I’m innocent! I haven’t done anything!”

They grab him by the arms and begin to drag him away from the chair. He digs his heels in and tries to twist out of their grasp, thrashing his head desperately, trying to look up at his parents on the bench. 

”I’m your son! I’m your son!”

”You are no son of mine!” Crouch Senior bellows suddenly, finally losing his cool exterior. ”I have no son!”

With a final whimper, the woman slumps over in the bench next to him. Harry realises she must have fainted. 

”Please…” he mutters. ”I don’t want to see any more…”

”Then let’s go back to my office…” a soft voice says suddenly next to him. 

Harry startles and looks around. Two Dumbledores are now next to him, one watching Barty Crouch Junior getting dragged out of the courtroom with sad eyes and the other watching him. Harry nods hurriedly. The Dumbledore of the now gives him a small, sad smile and then cups his elbow and pulls gently on it. 

Harry immediately feels himself shooting into the air, as the courtroom dissolves below him. In the next moment, he’s standing in front of the black cabinet again and breathing quickly. Dumbledore lets go of his elbow again and turns away. 

Harry watches him take a seat behind his desk and follows on shaky legs, sinking into the chair opposite. 

”I’m sorry, Sir…” he says quietly. ”I didn’t mean to—”

”I quite understand…” the man says calmly.

”What… what is that ting?”

”Oh, it’s a Pensieve. It allows you to view selected thoughts and memories, this way it’s easier, I find, to spot patterns and links…”

”So that was your memory, you thoughts?”

”Yes, I was using the Pensieve before Mr Fudge arrived for our meeting and I put it away rather hastily. I must not have latched the cabinet door closed properly. Naturally, it would attract your attention…”

”I’m sorry”, Harry says again. 

”No, no, curiosity is not a sin, dear boy… although, we should exercise some caution, I daresay… Now, what can I do for you?”

”Well, I was in Divination earlier and I… well, I fell asleep…” Harry says awkwardly, peering up at the Headmaster warily. 

”Quite understandable”, the man says seriously and gives him a nod. 

Harry blinks, and releases an incredulous breath. He’s starting to see why his dads like Dumbledore so much… well, why they used to like him, anyway. His daddy isn’t as fond of him anymore, not since Harry started Hogwarts. 

”Well, I had a dream about You-Know-Who and Wormtail was there — er — d’you know who Wormtail—?”

”I do know”, Dumbledore confirms calmly. ”Continue, Harry…”

”Wormtail had made a blunder, a big one and You-Know-Who was furious with him, but at the start of the dream he got a message by owl telling him that the problem had been taken care of and that someone’s dead… so he wasn’t going to feed Wormtail to his snake, after all… he’s going to feed me to it instead… then he tortured Wormtail with the Cruciatus curse and that’s when I woke up — ehm — and my scar was hurting… as well…” Harry finishes lamely. ”I wrote my dads and told them, they said to tell you… but I… I didn’t really want to bother you with it, Sir, so we went to Professor Snape instead, but he just took me to see you… and here I am.”

”I see…” Dumbledore says quietly, and peers at him over his half-moon spectacles. ”And has your scar hurt at any other time this year, except for last summer?” Harry blinks in surprise. ”Remus told me about it.”

”Oh… Ehm… No, not it hasn’t hurt again, well, until today…”

Dumbledore nods, then seems to fall into deep thought. Harry watches him uncertainly, fidgeting sightly as the minutes continues to tick by… finally, he clears his throat gently. Dumbledore blinks and his eyes become focused once more. 

”My apologies, Harry…” he says. 

”Professor, do you know why my scar hurts?”

”I have a theory… but it’s only a theory…”

”And… what is your theory?”

”It is my belief that your scar hurts not only when Lord Voldemort is near, but also when he feels a particularly strong surge of emotion… the two of your are connected by the curse that failed, Harry. That is no ordinary scar.”

”So the dream… you think… you think it really happened? It was a… a vision?” Harry asks, shifting awkwardly in his seat, as Trelawny’s words echo in his mind. 

”It’s possible, even probable”, Dumbledore says. ”Harry, can I ask you… did you ever see Voldemort?”

”No, Sir. Just the back of his chair, but… he did hold a wand, I saw the tip of it… so, he must have some sort of body now, right, Professor?”

”Indeed…” Dumbledore murmurs, his eyes now devoid of their usual twinkle. 

”So he’s… he’s getting stronger, then?” Harry says hoarsely. 

”Again, I can only offer you my own theories, but the years before Voldemort’s rise to power the last time were marked with disappearances and now a Ministry Official has disappeared without a trace, as well as a muggle by the name of Frank Bryce who lived in the village where Voldemort grew up… he has not been seen since last August. ”

Harry flashes back to his last dream about Voldemort, when he’d killed an old muggle man. That was in August. Harry stares at Dumbledore. He is dying to ask him about what he’d seen in the Pensieve, but at the same time, a part of him just wants to forget… Finally, he decides to leave it for another day and stands up. 

Dumbledore stands up as well and walks him to the door. 

”Thank you for telling me all this, Harry”, he says gently. ”And never hesitate to come see me again, it really is no bother…”

Harry looks up into the man’s face and catches the familiar twinkle in his eyes again.

”Yes, Sir…”

”And, Harry? Good luck with the third task…”

Harry nods. 

He shares everything Dumbledore has told him with his friends in the Common Room later that evening, while Draco and Blaise play wizard’s chess. 

”So it was a vision then…” Draco says. 

”I guess…” Harry says uncomfortably.

”And Dumbledore thinks he’s getting str—”

Crabbe and Goyle joins them suddenly and Draco immediately snaps his mouth shut again. The five of them exchange tense looks and Seamus quickly changes the subject to quidditch, while Draco and Blaise continue with their chess game. 

”I’m really knackered”, Harry says after a moment. ”I’m going to go get ready for bed…” 

”I’ll come with you”, Seamus says.

They walk to the dorm to grab their toilet bags and then head for the boys’ bathroom. As they’re brushing their teeth, Seamus asks Harry if he really thinks You-Know-Who is coming back. 

”I don’t know, maybe… I think he’s trying really hard to get his powers back…” 

”And if he does, what do you think is going to happen? You know, with the Death Eaters and everything?” 

”I don’t know…” Harry says again, his stomach in knots at the thought. 

”You know half the people in our dorm are children of Death Eaters…” 

”Yeah, I know.” 

”Including your boyfriend—” 

”I know!” Harry snaps. 

”If he rises to power again, you’ll be like Romeo and Juliet”, Seamus grins cheekily. 

”Who are they?” Harry asks warily. 

”It’s a muggle story. Never mind…” Seamus sighs.

*

As they enter June, the atmosphere in the castle begins to get heavy with anticipation once more as the third task draws nearer. Harry sits with his friends in the library or the Common Room as they revise for their final exams, even though he won’t have to take them — much to Seamus’ and Theodore’s annoyance, but Draco and Blaise seems to be more understanding, and Draco snaps at the other two boys to shut up whenever they complain about the injustice of it. 

”Unfair?” he more or less shrieks one evening in the Common Room. ”Yes, you’re right, it is unfair! Unfair that you get to sit and watch while Harry has to fight a dragon, spend an hour fighting Grindylows and merpeople with spears in ice cold water and Merlin knows what else he’ll have to do in the next task—!”

”All right, all right, forget I said anything!” Seamus snaps. 

Harry hides his smirk behind his hand when Seamus gives him a sour look. 

”Speaking of which”, Draco says and whips his head around to glare at Harry, whose smirk immediately shrinks away. ”Why are you just sitting there? Why aren’t you practising for the task?”

”Well, I —”

”The dorm is empty right now!” Draco says angrily. ”You should be down there practising your spell work!”

”Fine, I’ll go practise…” Harry mutters and heaves himself up from his lazy sprawl on the sofa next to the blonde. 

”At least he’s used to dealing with temperamental dragons”, Seamus mutters. 

”What’s that?” Draco says swiftly. 

”Nothing!”

”I have no-one to practise on, though”, Harry says as the thought occurs to him and flops back down on the sofa. 

”Take Seamus”, Draco says sourly. 

”You know what”, Seamus says. ”I will help you practise, Harry! I can’t concentrate out here anyway!”

Sighing, Harry hauls himself up to standing again. 

He really should be studying more hexes, but he’s been reading about hexes and jinxes every night for over a month now and he’s almost certain he’s got half the books memories back to front by now, and he can’t very well hex Seamus so the two of them just end up chatting about Quidditch after Harry has Stunned him a few times. 

On the morning of the third task, Harry’s nerves finally start to kick in. It’s nowhere near as bad as the panic he’d felt before the first two tasks, more like the butterflies he used to get before a Quidditch game back in Second Year. It’s actually quite a nice feeling, and with adrenaline slowly starting to course through him, Harry is actually excited for this evening!

Draco suddenly slams the Daily Prophet down so hard on the table that he knocks over a goblet of pumpkin juice that promptly spills over the opposite edge of the table and drip into Pansy’s and Daphne’s laps. The girls jump up with a scream. 

”Draco!” Pansy snaps, giving the blonde a disgruntled look. 

But Draco doesn’t appear to have heard her at all. He’s staring at the paper in mute anger, his eyes flitting frantically across the page. Harry cranes his neck to read the headline, but Draco quickly crumbles the paper between his hands so the article is hidden. Harry frowns at him. The blonde stares back with an unreadable expression in his face. 

”What is it?” Harry says. ”Is it Skeeter again?”

Draco nods. 

”Well, let me see it—” he says, reaching for the paper, but Draco holds it out of reach. ”Draco!”

”You don’t want to—”

”Draco!”

”Come on, Draco”, Pansy says, sitting back down and Vanishing the pumpkin juice from the table top. ”We’re going to find out anyway, and you know it…”

”Fine…” the blonde mutters and smooths the paper out again. 

”HARRY POTTER ’DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS’”, reads the headline and Harry feels the butterflies in his stomach promptly turn to lead and drop heavily to the pit of his stomach.

He skims the article quickly. It mentions him collapsing in Divination and his scar hurting, but other than that it’s just more of the same drivel about him being traumatised and emotionally unstable. When she starts talking about werewolf influence, he stops reading. 

”I told you you wouldn’t like it…” Draco says quietly. 

Pansy snatches the paper from them and huddles together with Daphne to read the article as well. Harry watches them warily, waiting for their reactions, half-expecting smirks or giggles, but to his surprise and relief, they continue to frown. Finally, they look up again. 

”She’s such a cow”, Pansy says. ”Obviously she’s just bitter because no-one wants her, so she doesn’t have a family of her own…”

”Sad really”, Daphne sniffs. ”Wonder if anyone buys anything she writes, I mean I think it’s just blatantly obvious that she’s making it up…”

No matter how untrue any of what the girls are saying really is, Harry can’t help but to grin at them. This is Pansy and Daphne’s way of offering their support, he realises and looking over at Draco and seeing the small smirk on his face, just confirms it. 

”I think I’m going to cancel my prescription of the Daily Prophet”, Pansy says in a loud, carrying voice that reaches at least two of the other three house tables. ”I mean if they’re going to continue to publish garbage like this, what’s the point… I mean, have you ever seen Harry collapse, Daph? We’re around him all the time, unlike this Skeeter woman and I’ve never heard him complain about his scar hurting, have you?”

”No, it’s obviously just a bunch of lies!” Daphne says and tosses her hair over her shoulder. ”And why would Dumbledore worry about Harry competing, he’s in the lead, so he’s obviously doing okay…”

”How did she find out about what happened in Divination, though?” Blaise whispers next to Harry. ”She wasn’t there! She can’t have been! Do you think someone in our class talked to her?”

”Like who?” Draco hisses, leaning forward to speak with Blaise from the other side of Harry. ”No-one we know would sell out a fellow Slytherin…”

”Yeah, I don’t think so either…” Blaise mumbles. ”So unless Trelawny said something…”

”The window was open!” Harry says, remembering the moment just before he fell asleep, watching that bug flit back and forth on the other side of the glass. 

”So? We were in the North Tower!” Blaise says. ”There’s no way she could have heard us from the ground…”

”Maybe she climb the wall”, Harry mutters. ”Wouldn’t put it past her…”

”Can we help you?” Pansy says coldly. 

The boys look up and catches the scowls on the girls’ faces and they quickly whip their heads around to see Granger standing behind Harry. She seems to shake herself out of her thoughts and looks between Pansy and Harry, blinking several times.

”I wanted to wish Harry good luck with the task…” she mumbles. 

”Ehm… Thanks, Granger…” Harry says awkwardly. 

”Yeah…” the Gryffindor mumbles, turning away slowly. 

They watch in confusion as she suddenly bolts across the Great Hall and disappears through doors in a flurry of frizzy hair, Ron running after her shouting about a History of Magic exam they have in ten minutes. 

”What the hell was that all about?” Harry says. 

”Gryffindors…” Blaise mutters. 

As they are finishing up their breakfast, Professor Snape comes striding down the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables and tells Harry that the champions’ families are waiting in the adjoining chamber. 

”My dads are here?” Harry says in surprise. ”What, now? They’re here now?”

”I believe that’s what I said”, Snape mutters. ”The rest of you hurry up, or you’ll be late for Charms…”

”I’ll see you guys at lunch, then!” Harry says, hurrying to his feet. 

When he opens the door, the people inside the chamber fall silent and turn to look at him. Harry doesn’t recognise most of them, but he can guess who’s parents to whom just judging by their hair and eye colours and, in the case of a beautiful women with long blonde hair that Harry thinks must be Fleur’s mother, the way she pinches her mouth together and looks around indifferently, which reminds Harry of how Fleur had looked when she’d criticised the Yule Ball decorations. 

At the very back of the room, Harry’s dads are standing in front of the fireplace, and they both beam at him as he hurries over and hugs them both. 

”How are you feeling, cub?” Remus asks gently, stroking the back of his head. 

”Good, a little nervous but good…” Harry says happily. ”I didn’t know you would be here!”

”Of course we’re here, what’d you expect?” Sirius says. 

”No, I mean, I thought I’d see you tonight, I didn’t expect to spend the day with you!”

”It’s nice to he here when you’re not injured, for a change…” Remus says wryly. ”How about giving us a tour?”

”Sure!” Harry says. 

As they walk across the chamber to leave, the door opens and Diggory comes inside. He grins at Harry quickly, before hugging his mother standing just inside the door next to a rather sour-looking wizard which Harry figures must be his dad. 

”There you are, Ced…” he says in a loud voice, giving Harry a side-long glance. ”We were beginning to worry they’d forgotten you’re Hogwarts real champion as well…”

Sirius immediately tenses up next to Harry, but Remus grabs his arm and urges him to keep walking. 

”What was that about?” Harry says as they leave the chamber. 

”Nothing. Amos is just a sore loser…” Sirius mutters. 

”Rita Skeeter did make it sound like Harry was the only Hogwarts champion”, Remus says. 

”So? That’s not Harry’s fault!”

”I never said it was”, Remus says calmly. ”Harry, do you want to show us your Common Room?”

”Are you allowed?” Harry asks, excited at the idea of finally showing his dads where he spends most of his year. 

”I’m sure it’s fine”, Remus says. ”It should be empty now, shouldn’t it?”

Harry shows his dads around the Common Room and the boys’ dorm, quickly pointing out the window to distract them from his unmade bed. 

”That is cool…” Sirius mutters. ”Is that the Black Lake? Are we next to the lake right now?”

”Yeah”, Harry nods eagerly. ”At night you can hear the waves, it’s really cool…”

After they’ve finished the tour of the dungeons, they head back upstairs and then spend the rest of the morning walking around outside. Harry shows his dads the Durmstrang ship and then takes them to Hagrid’s hut to show them the Beauxbatons carriage and the large horses as well. 

By lunchtime they make their way back to the castle and join Harry’s friends at the Slytherin table. Remus asks Draco and Blaise about the exam and nods politely when Draco gives him a very detailed account of the whole exam and when the blonde questions him nervously how he thinks he did, he reassures him that it sounds like he did a very good job. 

Sirius shakes his head slightly, watching the two of them and Harry gives him a questioning look. 

”Two peas in a pod, those two”, he mutters in an undertone. ”You’d think they were Ravenclaws…”

Harry grins and nods in agreement. 

After lunch, Harry and his dads spend most of the afternoon walking the grounds and then finally settles down in the grass just off the shore of the lake and Remus hands out some chocolate to both Sirius and Harry, then quizzes Harry on hexes and jinxes until he’s satisfied that he’s fully prepared for the task. 

”And so you don’t get lost”, he adds as an after-thought. ”You just put your wand in the palm of your hand and say point me, and the tip will point to north. That way you won’t go in circles…”

Harry eagerly gets his wand out and puts it carefully in the middle of his palm like his daddy said. 

”Point me”, he says, but nothing happens. 

”Try again”, Remus says calmly. ”Speak clearly.”

”I was”, Harry grumbles. ”Point — me —!”

The wand begins to spin and he starles, and nearly drops it to the ground. His dads chuckle and Sirius reaches out and strokes the back of his head affectionately. 

”You’ll do great…”

”Just —” Remus starts. 

”Be safe, I know”, Harry cuts in with a smile. 

”Yes”, Remus mutters. 

They sit in silence, watching the sun set and then they make their way back to the castle for the feast, which is even more magnificent than any Hogwarts feast Harry has ever sat through before, but he barely eats anything anyway. As the sky begins to darken outside the windows and in the enchanted ceiling, and the task draws closer, Harry’s nerves begin to set in for real. 

His dads must sense it too, because they take turns patting him on the back and petting his hair, until finally Harry pulls his head away from Remus hand and mumbles at him to stop pawing at him, already. 

”Oh-oh, it’s finally happened”, Sirius says. ”He’s ashamed of us!”

”I’m not ashamed of you”, Harry says and rolls his eyes.

”I’m sorry, Harry”, Remus says in an undertone. ”If my dad had hugged me in front of my friends when I was your age I would have died of embarrassment…”

”It’s fine”, Harry mumbles, blushing. 

”I don’t think my dad ever hugged me…” Sirius muses thoughtfully. ”He must have done when I was little, but I don’t remember it…”

”I was five”, Draco says suddenly. 

Everyone turns to look at him in surprise and even as he blushes a bright pink, he looks just as surprised as them at having spoken.

”What’s that, Draco?” Remus says kindly. 

”Ehm, last time my father hugged me…” Draco mumbles, ducking his head and avoiding everyone’s eyes. 

”Your dad hasn’t hugged you since you were five?” Harry says aghast. ”What about your mum?”

Draco mumbles something that is too quiet for Harry to make out. 

”What?”

”Eleven” he says a little louder, scowling at his food. ”She hugged me goodbye when I left for Hogwarts.”

They all eat in awkward silence after that, except for Harry who just stares at his food miserably. He can’t stop thinking about eleven-year-old Draco, coming home for Christmas after his first school term at Hogwarts, expecting a hug from his mum and… and what, did she recoil from him? Or did she just stay at a distance and Draco didn’t dare run up to her? 

He shouldn’t be surprised, he’s seen how the Malfoys are together… but he’d always assumed they’d be different when no-one was around. They’re all about appearances and etiquette, after all. It never occurred to him that they really are that cold with each other all the time… especially Narcissa, whom Harry likes a lot more than Lucius, for obvious reasons; the woman who didn’t want her son to go to Durmstrang because she wanted him closer to home, and who was worried that he’d be scared of the dark and so bought him Luminous Balloons and taught him the Sticking Charm to stick them above his bed. That sounds like a caring, over-protective, loving mother to Harry… 

A caring, over-protective, loving but non-affectionate mother, apparently…

”Harry…” Remus says quietly. ”You really should try and eat some more, you’ll need your strength.”

But as soon as he’s spoken, Dumbledore rises to his feet at the Head Table and hush spreads across the whole hall even before he holds his arms out. 

”Ladies and Gentlemen, in five minutes time I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch Stadium for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament… will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the pitch now.”

Giving his dads a nervous smile, Harry gets to his feet. The Slytherin table erupts in cheers and applause and he ducks his head, smiling shyly. Darting forward to give both his dads a quick hug, and discretely brushing his hand over the back of Draco’s arm before straightening up again, Harry gives his friends a final wave before he walks out of the Great Hall. 

Ludo Bagman is waiting for him at the front doors and immediately beams at him as he approaches. Harry’s mind flashes back to the memory in Dumbledore’s Pensieve… the man sat accused of being a Death Eater and risked going to Azkaban for the rest of his life and when asked if he had anything to add to his testimony, he’d smiled and said well, I’ve been a bit of an idiot.

Harry stares at the man’s beaming face now and wonders if it’s real. Is he really that naive, or is it all an act? He’s been trying to help Harry all year. Why? 

”Feeling all right, Harry? Confident?”

”Yeah”, Harry says shortly. 

The first stars have appeared in the deep blue sky and the evening air is chilly. Harry wonders whether he should have brought another jumper, but then thinks he’ll probably keep warm once he gets into the maze if he’ll be running around a lot… Krum sidles up next to him and the two of them make the trek down to the Quidditch pitch in companionable silence, letting Bagman and Diggory take the lead while Fleur trails after them. 

As they get to the Quidditch Stadium, the pitch is completely unrecognisable. The nearest hedge now stands at twenty feet tall, with only a small opening in the middle of it — the entrance to the massive maze — and looking through it, Harry shivers slightly at the darkness that lies beyond. 

Within minues, the stands begin to fill and soon the Stadium is alive with excited chatter. Harry looks towards the part of the stands where the Slytherins usually sit during Quidditch games. He immediately catches sight of a familiar white-blonde head and grins as the whole section begins to wave at him, his dads amongst them. He waves back quickly, before turning back around to face Bagman. 

Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick and Moody come traipsing towards them, the three shorter professors all wearing pointy hats with big red stars on them while Hagrid has stuck his star to the back of his moleskin coat. 

”We’ll be patrolling the edges of the maze”, Professor McGonagall says. ”If you get into trouble and wish to be rescued, shoot up red sparks into the air and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?”

Harry stares at her. He’s memorised half a dozen books on hexes and practised Stunning and Disarming spells so many times he can practically do them without a wand by now, but he has no idea how you produce red sparks… what do I do, he thinks wildly. Do I tell them? Everyone’s going to laugh at me, and then Rita Skeeter will write about it in the Prophet!

”Off you go then”, Bagman tells the teachers happily, then turns to address the audience. ”Sonorous… Ladies and Gentlemen, the third and final task is about to begin! Let me just remind you how the points currently stand — in first place, with eighty-seven points, is Harry Potter of Hogwarts!”

The stands erupt in cheers and applause, but all Harry can think about it the horrors that await him inside the maze and how he’ll have no way of signalling for help… how could he have been so stupid? He should have thought about this, he should have asked someone about it…

Krum gently knocks his shoulder against him. Harry blinks and looks up in confusion. 

”What?”

”You start”, the Durmstrang boy says. ”You’re in the lead, you get a head start…”

”Ready, Harry?” Bagman’s booming voice rings out across the Stadium and Harry nods quickly. ”Well, in position then…”

He gestures towards the small opening in the hedge. 

Feeling his heart pound in his chest and his legs tremble slightly under him, Harry walks over to it. 

”On my whistle”, Bagman says. ”Three — two — one —”

He gives a short blast on the whistle and Harry stumbles forward and runs into the maze. As soon as the tall walls rise on either side of him, the sounds of the Stadium immediately die down. Harry looks around nervously, expecting to see some horrible creature fly out of the darkness at him… but nothing happens. Everything is deadly silent around him, his own breath sounding unnaturally loud.

”Lumos”, he mutters and begins to walk further into maze until finally the opening behind him has been swallowed up by the darkness. 

Reaching a fork about fifty yards in, Harry decides to turn left. He imagines hearing Bagman’s whistle again and speeds up. 

He feels like someone is watching him, and looks over his shoulder nervously as he staggers forward. But he can’t see anything in the darkness behind him. 

When he reaches a second fork, he puts his wand in the palm of his hand. 

”Point me”, he says clearly and the wand begins to spin quickly and then stops abruptly again, the lit tip pointing into a solid hedge to his right. 

To get to the centre of the maze, he will have to go north-west so if that way is north… he’s better off taking the left fork and then turn right again as soon as possible. Turning cautiously, Harry edges further into the darkness but the path ahead is empty and when he takes the next right turn, his way remains unblocked there as well, and it is really starting to unnerve him… surely he should have encountered an obstacle by now?

Turning another corner, Harry’s heart suddenly leaps into his throat and he stumbles back in terror… A pair of scarlet eyes are burning in the darkness in front of him and as Harry stares in mute horror, the shape of a cloaked figure steps out of the shadows and looms over him… Voldemort… but it’s not possible, he thinks wildly. It can’t be, not here, not now —

The deathly pale face cracks up into a wide, cold grin and the eyes flash at him. 

”Harry Potter…” a cold, high-pitched voice rings out in the silence. ”Here you go, Nagini… Tuck in…”

Harry looks at the ground quickly, expecting to see the massive snake from his dream, but instead, Voldemort’s robes seem to coil and twist at his feet and as Harry watches the material extends into the space between them and as it twists, it magically turns into the snake Nagini, her massive jaws opening as she rears back, getting ready to strike —

”But…” Harry says, looking between the snake and Voldemort’s face. ”Hang on… You’re a Boggart!”

Scrambling to his feet, he points his wand at the creature. 

”Riddikulus!” he shouts and laughs as the Boggart-Voldemort stumbles over Nagini and falls flat on his face. 

With a loud crack, the creature explodes into smoke and disappears, leaving Harry alone once more. As he begins to move forward again, he tries to walk as quietly and quickly as possible, listening intently for any sign of movement in the darkness around him… turning left twice, before he finally finds a right turn, Harry performs the navigation spell again and as he’d suspected, he’s gone too far east… 

Finally, after reachig two dead ends and having to double back, Harry finds a new route but a golden mist is blocking the way. He edges closer to it cautiously, and is just considering nudging it with his foot when a sudden scream can be heard from ahead of him. Harry looks up and stares into the darkness beyond the mist apprehensively… it sounded like Fleur… he wonders what she’s encountered. 

Well, whatever it is, I probably don’t want to run into it, Harry thinks and doubles back, leaving the golden mist behind. 

For at least ten minutes, Harry encounters nothing but more dead ends. But finally, he manages to find a new path. Using the spell to navigate, he makes sure to stay on course and moves steadily closer to the centre of the maze. 

I must be getting close now, Harry thinks, aware of the darkness encrouching on him more than before the deeper into the maze he gets. 

Then suddenly, as he turns round a corner, he sees movement again ahead of him and stops dead. Holding his wand aloft, the light falls on a magnificent creature that Harry’s only ever seen in books before… it’s got the body of a lion and the head of a woman, although it doesn’t look like any woman Harry has every seen before. It’s a sphinx, his mind supplies and he cautiously approaches it. 

She turns and fixes her pale eyes on him, but her face remains unreadable and she continues to pace back and forth across the path, blocking the way forward. 

”Ehm… Excuse me?” Harry says. ”Can I get past, p-please?”

”You are very near your goal”, the Sphinx speaks in a deep, other-worldly voice. ”The quickest way is past me.”

”Yeah, so… so will you move… please?” Harry says uncertainly. 

”No…” she says, still pacing in front of him. ”Not unless you can answer my riddle… Answer correctly on your first guess and I will let you pass. Answer wrongly, I will attack. Remain silent, and you may walk away unscathed.”

”Okay… Okay, can I hear the riddle?” he says nervously. 

The Sphinx stops pacing finally and sits down on her hind legs and begins to recite what sounds like a long poem. Harry stares at her. 

”Er… Could I have that again… Ehm… More slowly?”

Smiling serenly, the Sphinx repeats the poem. 

”First think of the person who lives in disguise, 

Who deals in secrets and tells naughty lies. 

Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend, 

the middle of middle, and end of the end?

And finally give me the sound often heard

During the search of ahard-to-find word. 

Now string them together and answer me this,

Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”

”Okay, okay…” Harry mutters and begins to pace, while the Sphinx continues to smile at him. ”A person in disguise who deals in secrets and tell lies… er… A spy, maybe?”

He glances over at the Sphinx, but her face is unchanged. 

”What was the next bit, the middle of middle? Can you say that bit again?”

The Sphinx complies and Harry nods absently, ”… always the last thing to mend, the middle of… hang on, middle of middle and at the end of end, is the letter d, isn’t it?”

The Sphinx continues to smile. Feeling a surge of excitement, Harry eagerly asks her to tell him the last part again. 

”Yeah”, he mumbles. ”So, let’s see… a sound you make… er… I dunno, a sound? not a word, but a sound… er… Oh! Hang on, that’s a sound, that sound I just made! Er is a sound! So if I put them all together I should get the name of a creature I wouldn’ want to kiss! So… spy — d — er… A spider!”

Harry wheels around and stares at the Sphinx. Her serene smile widens and she gives him a slow nod, then strecthes her legs out on front of her and stands up again. 

”What, that’s it?” Harry says, hardly daring to believe it. ”I can pass?”

”Yes…” she says and moves aside. 

”Hah! Thanks!” Harry exclaims and runs past her. 

Dashing around the corner, Harry gasps in amazement as a light suddenly shines in the darkness ahead of him. There, on a plinth about a hundred yards away from him, the Triwizard Cup stands waiting for the champions to grab it… it’s serene glow giving the illusion of calm and safety as if they haven’t had to fight their way past monsters to get close to it… Harry’s knees almost buckle under him as relief surges through him. He’s safe. It’s over…

Suddenly something slams into and knocks him sideways against the solid hedge. A strangled scream tears out of his throat as he’s grabbed by the ankle and hoisted into the air. He hangs dangling upside-down, staring into eight, gleaming black eyes underneath him and although it’s too dark for him to see much more of the arachnid’s face, he can hear the distinct sound of clicking pincers. 

Twisting around desperately, trying to iam his wand at the creature below him, Harry starts shouting every curse and hex he can think of, but they only seem to bounce off the giant spider… mind whirring wildly, Harry tries to think of something else. The last time he was in this situation (and isn’t it insane that anyone would be in a situation like this more than once in their life?) he’d managed to talk his way out of it, but something tells him that won’t work this time. If only he had the Sword of Gryffindor on him now… something real he could use against the spider, since its’ skin seems thick enough to repel his spells… wait, what if… 

Twisting around again, Harry points his wand directly against the creature’s eyes and shouts, ”INCENDIO!”

A long flame shoots out of the tip of Harry’s wand and hits the spider in the face. It recoils immediately and drops Harry, who crumples to the ground as his ankle twists under him and he lets out a shout as pain sears though his leg. He scrambles back and holds his wand aloft, ready to blast the spider again but it’s already scuttled away into the darkness. Harry is alone with the Triwizard Cup once more.

Grabbing the hedge for support, he hauls himself to his feet and then hobbles over to the plinth where the Cup stands. He then turns to look around him expectently and listens intently for any sign of approaching footsteps from either of the other champions, but the maze is deathly silent again.

His ankle is throbbing in pain now and standing still for the first time since entering the maze, Harry is becoming aware of just how cold it is. He just wants the tournament to be over, so that he can leave the this place and rejoin his dads and his friends… and Draco… A particularly cold breeze hits him and he shivers, hugging himself… Where are the others?

He turns back around and looks at the gleaming Cup again, his fingers itching to reach out and touch it but he stops himself, thinking his daddy will be cross with him if he wins… besides he doesn’t want to win, he wants to come in second… but, he sighs in frustration and scans the darkness around him again, it doesn’t look like anyone else is volunteering to win either…

As another cold breeze slams against him, Harry gives up. For all he knows, the other champions might have forfeited ages ago… he hasn’t exactly been paying attention to the sky while he’s been weaving his way through the maze after all, so if they’ve sent up red sparks, he’s missed it… let’s just get this over with, he thinks resolutely and turns back towards the Triwizard Cup.

Then taking a deep breath to steel himself, Harry reaches out his hand to brush his numb fingers against the one of the gleaming handles…

”Harry!”