" - to the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament!" roared Bagman, his hands raised in the air as the crowd shrieked with delight.
It was the beginning of the third task, a task that Harry truthfully was not looking forward to. The fact of it was that it was the end of the school year, which meant Harry was soon to be overdue for his dance with death.
If you exclude the dragon, anyway.
Harry currently stood in front of the entrance to the maze, trying hard not to look at any of the five Recorder Orbs (and their respective glasses, all of which floated merrily a mere ten metres away from him, seemingly taunting him).
The stands were filled with people; the Hogwarts students and professors, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the families of the champions, as well as a few politicians and other people of notoriety. It seemed as though half of wizarding Britain had come out to watch the event in person - even if, of course, that was not the case. Still, millions more were watching from the Recorder Glasses spread all throughout the world.
Harry, however, was paying little mind to all of those people, instead focusing on the maze that lay before him. He was rather cautious at the moment, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone who might be a Death Eater.
He and Fleur (as well as Salazar, whenever both of the former two could sneak into the chamber) had all discussed potential ways in which Voldemort's servants might be able to procure some of Harry's blood. They had initially believed that Wormtail would be the one to try and take Harry's blood; it was Peter, after all, that Harry had seen in his dream.
Harry, however, had quickly decided against it. While even Wormtail could follow through with such a simple ritual, he was simply too incompetent of a combatant (amongst most other things) for Voldemort to use in something so important.
Fleur had pointed out that Voldemort commanded Peter to find the other Death Eaters, something which Harry had overlooked. Still, most of those people were Slytherins for a reason. They likely either wouldn't believe their old master was alive, or were too afraid to return in case he was. It was certainly hopeful thinking, that was for sure - but it was also quite realistic.
As such, Harry was at a loss as to how he would be going through the task. He did, however, have a few simple objectives, all of which he quickly reviewed in his head.
Get to the cup as quickly as possible so the task can end. Stay in front of the Recorder Orb - I'm less likely to get attacked when the world's watching. And stay as far away from Fleur as possible.
He had not informed his partner about the last of the three, knowing what her reaction would be. Not that it mattered anyway; Harry was sure she knew of his intentions. Fleur currently stood with her mother, father, and Gabrielle, speaking to them quietly as they waited for the task to begin.
Harry was unfathomably grateful that nobody had come to visit him for the third task as his family. The only people who might have done that were the Weasleys (and possibly the Dursleys, if threatened). Both would have likely been rather unpleasant; the former due to Harry's falling out with Ron, and the latter because, well, they were the Dursleys.
"Just moments ago, myself and Mr. Barty Crouch placed the Triwizard Cup in the center of the maze that stands before us!" announced Lude happily, pointing towards Mr. Crouch, who stood with a distant gaze, blinking in confusion, "As you might remember, the scores are all very close: Potter and Krum with eighty-eight, Delacour with eighty-five, and Diggory with eighty-two! As such, the one who gets to the cup first will win the tournament."
Harry nodded solemnly, once again ignoring the way the crowd cheered with delight. He, as well as Krum, Fleur, and Cedric all moved until they were directly before the entrance, standing beside Professor Dumbledore, Minister Fudge, Madam Bones, and a few others Harry didn't recognize.
"Within the maze are a number of magical creatures and obstacles. They have all been tasked with preventing the champions from making their way to the center. Just as previously, the Recorder Glasses and Orbs will be following each of the champions, allowing for their progress to be viewed!"
Bagman waited for the crowd to calm down before continuing.
"Should any of the Recorder Orbs be broken and the champions end up in danger, they are to shoot red sparks from the tip of their wands, signifying the need for aid." announced Bagman, "Such an act will have them disqualified from the tournament. Now, if all four of the champions would please demonstrate your ability to do so - "
All four of the champions hastily pushed their wands into the air, red sparks issuing from each of the tips.
"Brilliant! Now, the champions will be entering the maze based upon their current standing, each point difference resulting in having to wait an additional ten seconds." he announced, "Krum and Potter, if you are ready, on my whistle - "
Both Harry and Krum made their way to the entrance, watching as a single Recorder Orb followed each of them. Harry quickly glanced at Fleur, sending a soft smile as he did so, a smile that grew slightly when Fleur smiled back. It was irresponsible, Harry knew, to not be careful. Their small interaction likely did not go unnoticed - they were, after all, being watched by the Recorder Orbs. Yet Harry didn't care, not at the very moment, anyway; he had much bigger things to worry about now.
Bagman's amplified whistle suddenly rang through the stadium.
Harry and Krum both bolted into the maze. It was dark, far more so than Harry had anticipated, though thankfully there was more than enough light than was needed to see. He watched as Krum, who was a few metres ahead of him thanks to his larger body, reached a fork in the road. After a quick decision, the Durmstrang Champion turned right, his orb following him a few seconds later.
Harry decided to turn left. He held his wand out in front of him, making sure to stay within range of the Recorder Glass - a device that Harry was now realising to be rather slow in its movement speed. The maze around him was getting darker now, the lack of light becoming more and more apparent.
Lumos!
As Harry moved further into the maze, he heard Bagman's whistle go off for a second time. Fleur was in the maze. He would have to move at a quicker pace if he wished to insure her safety - he knew she could more than take care of herself, but if her orb was damaged for any reason (which was likely to happen to all of the four champions) she could get hurt.
Harry was not sure if it was comforting or worrying to realize that Fleur was likely thinking the exact same thing with their names reversed.
He quickly pushed forward, taking a right after every left, and vice versa. It was the closest thing Harry could manage that would send him straight, and therefore towards the center of the maze.
Bagman's whistle sounded for a third and final time. All four champions were now inside the maze.
Harry quickly turned to one of the many hedges that surrounded him. It would be particularly useful if he could simply burn the hedges to ash with something like Fiendfyre, but Harry knew it was not a wise decision, especially considering the orb that seemed to follow his every move.
Besides, Harry was not yet capable of controlling it to the degree Fleur could. He suspected her talent with the curse had something to do with it essentially being a magical conflagration - something that her Veela nature gave her prowess with.
Not that either of us have too much time practicing it in the first place. We're not suicidal.
Harry continued to move forward, his wand held carefully before him. How long had he been in here? He wasn't sure - it certainly couldn't have been too long. He would have expected to come across some sort of magical creature by now.
"Pathetic, how could you possibly have allowed this?"
Harry's eyes widened. The voice was coming from where the hedges turned left, which happened to be the only forward path. Upon turning around, Harry quickly discovered it to also be the only remaining path; the hedges from the way he had come had pushed together, preventing him from moving back.
"I was the only one who did anything at all, I would be grateful if I were you!" said another voice from just behind the hedge, "It isn't my fault we ended up here, I tried to stop them!"
"Wait, now wait j-just a moment - I helped as well, I d-did!" added a third voice - one, Harry noted, that sounded significantly less intelligent than the former two.
"No, you didn't!" snapped the first, "You were dreaming, as you always do!"
Nox.
The light emanating from the tip of Harry's wand suddenly vanished.
Harry was growing slightly concerned now, his wand now held directly in front of him. What were these people doing inside the maze? People were not allowed within the maze, it had not been mentioned by anyone - was this part of Voldemort's plot?
No, that didn't make sense either. Tom was clever, admittedly more so than anyone Harry had ever met, and he was a Slytherin as well. He would not allow something so unbearably unsubtle to occur when his life practically depended upon it.
Harry disillusioned himself. It was truthfully a toss of a coin - disillusioning himself would allow him to view whatever it was that was going on, while not doing so would allow the Recorder Orb to keep track of him, allowing him the possibility of potential aid.
Regardless, Harry's curiosity and confusion got the better of him. The voices around the hedge did not sound particularly dangerous (or perhaps that was just the third voice and not the other two).
Harry slowly walked past the hedge, the orb lagging behind him at a slow pace; it seemed as though the Disillusionment Charm did not have much of an effect upon its ability to track his movement. The Disillusionment Charm did not, however, seem to affect the owners of the three voices, who were now but a few metres away from him.
Three pairs of eyes met his own.
Harry's eyes widened. He quickly cast a simple ward around himself in order to make sure no sound escaped it. He was sure Fleur could have done it better, but it truthfully didn't matter; it would be more than enough to prevent any sound from reaching the Recorder Orb.
Not that it truly mattered - it wasn't as though the crowd would have been able to understand Harry anyway. No, it was simply because Harry didn't wish to deal with whatever ridiculous accusations of dark magic might be thrown his way by those who watched, both in person and those around the world.
"Perfect, just what we needed - another human."
Harry had to admit that it was indeed a beautiful creature. It was around two metres long, covered from head to tail in an orange and black striped pattern.
"I can understand you, you know."
All three heads of the magical snake reared back in surprise, their eyes narrowing somehow (despite the obvious lack of eyelids). Harry knew what it was, despite his lack of attendance to his Care of Magical Creatures during the past year. He had, after all, spent most of his summer evening pouring over his textbooks due to a lack of anything better to do.
It was a Runespoor, a rather rare magical creature (one that could quite clearly see through a Disillusionment Charm) that originated from a small country in Africa. Each one of their heads served a different purpose: the left was the planner, the middle the dreamer, and the right the critic who constantly insulted the former two.
Harry was fairly certain he knew which head was which, judging by the conversation he had overheard.
"A speaker . . ." hissed the left head, "I suppose that makes you somewhat better than the others."
"Somewhat." added the right head quietly.
"Others?" questioned Harry.
"The other wizards." clarified the left head, "They took us from our home - Africa, I think it is called - for some tournament."
"They took us from our home?" asked the middle head drowsily, his head rapidly turning from left to right in surprise, "I thought we were in A-a-africa! They t-took us away from home?"
"Pay attention, you blithering idiot!" hissed the right.
Harry quickly decided to mostly ignore the middle and right head - the former more than the latter. They didn't seem particularly helpful at the moment.
"This is the Triwizard Tournament." Harry quickly explained, quickly becoming aware of the passing time, "I was also entered into this tournament against my will - I'm trying to just be done with it as quickly as possible."
The left head seemingly scrutinized him.
"Just pass us." answered the left head eventually, its voice seemingly tired, "If you finish, it'll be over. I want to go home."
"And food!" added the middle head, "I'm h-hungry!"
With a silent wave of his wand, a portion of the dirt before Harry was transfigured into a single, rather large rat. Harry thought they might like live bait - it might even help them with their teamwork, though Harry doubted it.
And the rat looked an awful lot like Wormtail, but that was just an added bonus.
The middle head quickly lunged at the rat, shocking both heads on either side. It was a surprisingly quick capture - far faster than Harry had expected. It appeared as though the middle head was an unexpectedly skilled hunter.
The Runespoor lazily moved to the side, allowing Harry to pass it. He quickly did so, suddenly turning back just after he had passed it. He had just remembered something Salazar had once told him, something that certainly applied to the conversation he had just held. It was unlikely that he would ever come across a magical snake of this kind in the future, and it certainly wouldn't take long to ask it a single question.
"I've heard that snakes become more capable of explaining themselves and their thoughts around Parselmouths. Or just become smarter, I suppose."
Harry winced slightly at the bluntness of the statement. He hoped that the Runespoor wasn't deadly, yet for some reason doubted that was the case.
"Normal snakes." said the left head, answering the unasked question, "We happen to be a magical species, and therefore a more intelligent - except this one, I suppose." he finished, nodding towards the middle head.
"Right." said Harry, "Er - I'd appreciate it if you didn't bite any silver-haired girls that pass you."
"Hurry up and we won't." commented the left head uncaringly.
He reminds me of Salazar a bit, honestly.
Harry quickly moved past the area, the Recorder Glass slowly following behind him. He allowed for the silencing ward to deteriorate, permitting the Recorder Glass the gift of hearing once more.
Left, right, left, right. Another right, there's no left on this one - I'll have to take left twice now . . .
He was once more surrounded by the hedges of the maze, all of which were nearly obscured from view thanks to the lack of light. Harry was slowly losing track of where he was - something that was certainly not a good thing.
Crunch.
Harry swirled around, his wand held strongly in his arm, pointing directly at whoever or whatever it was that had made the noise.
It was Cedric.
He did not at all look good; his robes were torn, his hair tousled. Here and there his skin was either cut or burnt. Harry couldn't help but hope he wouldn't come across whatever Cedric had.
"One of Hagrid's bloody Skrewts got me!" he wheezed out, "They're ginormous - what is he feeding them?"
Harry paled significantly.
Who allowed Hagrid to put the Skrewts in here?
He had not seen the creatures in many, many months, no doubt thanks to his participation in the Triwizard Tournament. When he had last seen them, they were but a foot long, and even then they had been troublesome to say the least.
"How's your glass not broken?" asked Cedric, still steading himself. His eyes were upon Harry's Recorder Orb, which was floating merrily beside him.
"Luck, I suppose." said Harry, suddenly noticing that Cedric was not accompanied by an orb, "I dunno how much longer it's going to last though."
"Right." said Cedric, panting slightly, "I'd better get going. See you."
The handsome Hufflepuff sped off, clearly interested in maintaining a safe distance between himself and the Skrewts. Harry decided to take his advice on that one, quickly moving in the opposite direction.
His task of making it to the center of the maze was proving to be much more difficult than he had expected. For one, the maze moved, constantly changing and reorganizing itself in the most unorthodox of ways. The Recorder Orb was also rather slow, lagging behind Harry ever so slightly. Harry was not willing to move out of its view, however, and therefore had to wait for it at each and every turn.
Harry was starting to wonder how big the labyrinth was. It had been created within the Quidditch Pitch, but seemed to stretch much further than just that. The majority of the quidditch stands had somehow been removed, with only a small section remaining for the students (which had been enlarged to fit those in attendance). Did the maze continue to stretch out onto the grounds?
It was starting to truly get dark now, the already small amount of light dissipating into nothingness. Harry hastily cast the Lumos Charm, continuing to traverse through the seemingly endless maze. He had not come across anything in a while now . . . there was bound to be something soon . . .
A feeling of dread enveloped him as he turned around the hedge. Harry could feel it, flowing through him at a rapid pace. Something was wrong, something was off.
No.
Laying before him upon the earthen floor was the ethereal body of one Fleur Delacour, her luscious silver hair cascading over her unusually pale features. At first glance, she seemed to be quite alive - her eyes were open, her body perfectly intact.
Yet those sapphire eyes, the ones that allowed for those she loved most to see her for what she was, to gaze upon her soul, were unmoving, unblinking. There was no steady rhythm of her body, nothing to signify a sort of life flowing within her veins.
She was unmistakably dead.
No.
Everything around Harry caught fire: the hedges, the grass, the dirt, even the Recorder Orb itself. Each was doused in angry flames, and although the hedges suffered no damage - no doubt due to its many magical properties - the same could not be said about the remaining three, the latter of which fell to the floor, shattering itself at once.
Not that Harry cared; he rushed over to Fleur, sinking to his knees. It could not have happened, she was more than capable of protecting herself. He was not ready to lose her, just as he knew he never would be.
But there was something different - something with this Fleur. Her silvery hair, though undoubtedly beautiful, did not shine the same way. Her features, angelic though they were, did not compare to what Harry knew.
This isn't Fleur.
Deep within the castle of Hogwarts, a singular chess piece finished forming, a beautiful silver king now sitting in its place.
The corpse in Harry's hands felt cold, lacking the warmth that Fleur always carried. Yes, the body held no life in it - but even then, there was something off, something Harry couldn't describe. But this wasn't Fleur, Harry knew it.
And if it isn't Fleur, there's only one other thing it can be.
Angrily pulling out his wand, Harry moved away from the corpse of his companion, his wand aimed at its head.
"Riddikulus!"
A loud crack permeated through the silence, a small cloud of gray smoke filling the air. When it had vanished a moment later, nothing remained of the boggart.
Harry hastily wiped the specks of dust off his robes, turning to examine what remained of the Recorder Orb. He would have to move faster now; the relative safety he had while being watched by millions was now gone, placing him in a perfect position to be attacked.
It could have been worse; the audience would not have known what had destroyed the orb, and would likely assume it had been when of the many creatures or obstacles within the maze - they would not have known about his outburst. Still, Harry had to hurry up. The longer the task went on, the longer he and the other champions (with Fleur being the first that came to mind) were in danger.
Left, right, left, right - dead end, I'll have to go back . . . left, right - bloody hell!
Harry froze, his eyes landing upon what was unmistakably a Blast-Ended Skrewt. He was seriously regretting not attending Care of Magical Creatures now; the creature was huge, easily reaching five metres in length. It was covered from head to toe in armored scales. The creature had no visible eyes, its stingers and its flaming end both easy to spot.
"Stupefy!"
As Harry had expected, the Stunning Curse did absolutely nothing against the giant creature except irritate it. The Skrewt directed its attention at Harry, its sting curling up wildly, flexing and loosening all the while.
Suddenly, the Skrewt shot a burst of flames from its backside, shooting forward. Harry just barely managed to avoid it by ducking to the side; had he not, he would undoubtedly have been the Blast-Ended Skrewt's next meal.
Harry continued to move around the creature, trying to find a weakness of some sort that might help dispose of it. He could not simply pass it; the Skrewt was far too large, blocking any path Harry might have taken forward.
What Harry did notice, however, was how different the underside of the creature appeared to be when compared to the scales. The former seemed softer, much weaker. They were quite likely to be the Skrewt's weak point - Harry would do best to target that area.
"Crucio!"
A familiar voice tore through the air, screaming in evident agony.
No.
Harry pushed himself off the ground, his wand pointed directly at the Skrewt's armor.
"Fiendfyre!"
Thick, golden-orange flames coalesced from the tip of Harry's wand, forming into a towering phoenix. The flames enveloped the Skrewt, retreating a moment later. Nothing remained of the armored creature.
Harry dispelled the flames - which was usually quite a difficult feat for him - in mere seconds, running forward in the direction of the voices. They had not been far, likely only a few dozen metres away from him. He could reach them, he could reach Fleur . . .
Harry ran forward, his blood pulsing angrily through his veins. The hedges of the maze did not dare get in his way, his magic swirling violently around him as he forced his way towards the voices. He continued to run, spells far from benevolent on the very tip of his tongue -
Harry came to a halt. Lying upon the earthen floor was Fleur - the real Fleur - breathing heavily, twitching and spasming occasionally, and upon the verge of unconsciousness. Her silvery hair was stained with blood - her own blood, if Harry's guess was accurate.
I'm going to fucking kill him.
Standing before her was Victor Krum, his wand held in his hand. As Harry entered the clearing Krum pointed it at him. Upon seeing who it was, however, Krum lowered his wand and moved to the side. His eyes were slightly glazed over, reminding Harry of a particular lesson he had attended many months ago.
He's been hit with the Imperius Curse.
Neither Fleur nor Krum was accompanied by a Recorder Orb - it seemed as though all four champions were no longer being watched within the maze.
"Expelliarmus!" yelled Harry, his wand pointed at Krum, "Stupefy!"
The hornbeam wand shot from Krum's hand, soaring through the air before landing within one of the many hedges. Krum himself sank to the floor, his eyes closing at once.
Harry sank to the floor as well, unable to stop himself from noticing the abundant similarities between his boggart and Fleur as she was now. He didn't know many healing spells - those were often Charms, something which Fleur was far more proficient with than he was.
"Hedwig!"
A burst of violet flames enveloped the earthen floor of the small clearing. When they had vanished, the ethereal form of Hedwig sat upon the dirt, her white feathers glowing ambiently.
Truthfully, Harry didn't know what he was doing. He was not a healer, nor had he properly gone through the few tomes within the Chamber of Secrets that discussed the art of healing. All he knew was that if this didn't work, he had nothing better to try.
Hedwig gently stooped over Fleur's nearly unconscious form, her own eyes hovering mere inches above the Veela's.
Harry watched as a single tear landed upon Fleur. Then another, and another, and another. Would it even do anything? This was the Cruciatus Curse, and as far as Harry knew, phoenix tears only helped with flesh wounds.
Fleur's body relaxed ever so slightly, her breathing slowing down. She was no longer twitching from the after effects of the powerful curse.
Harry sighed gratefully, stood up, and quickly cast a few wards around the area. He made sure that Krum was protected behind different wards than Fleur's - he was not willing to put Fleur's safety in jeopardy because of something so trivial. The wards would not last long - only a few hours at most - but thankfully Harry didn't need them to; as long as they remained for the rest of the tournament, Harry would be pleased.
"Hedwig." said Harry as he finished up, earning the undivided attention of the majestic creature, "Watch Fleur. Keep anyone from harming her. And make sure you aren't seen, alright?"
Hedwig hooted softly, flying up to rub her head against Harry's. Her body was suddenly enveloped by a ball of violet flames. When they were gone, Hedwig was nowhere to be found. Harry knew she was nearby, watching over the two fallen champions. He could feel it.
Harry pointed his wand into the air, his eyes not leaving Fleur's fallen form.
"Periculum!"
A stream of red sparks shot from the tip of Harry's wand, soaring into the air. Harry repeated the spell once more (this time over Krum's body), before slowly (and quite unwillingly) continuing on.
He was much more cautious now, and, despite his best efforts, rather unfocussed. Harry couldn't forget the image of Fleur's twitching body, nor the fact that there was obviously someone interfering with the task. Harry had expected such a thing, it was true. But it was completely different to experience it.
Who could it be? Which Death Eater had Voldemort sent into the maze to take Harry's blood? All of Voldemort's useful Death Eaters were either in Azkaban or were likely uninterested in returning to the master they long thought to be dead. Wormtail was unlikely as well - Riddle would not trust the rat with something so important. So who was it?
What if I'm thinking about it all wrong? What if he hasn't sent anyone, what if -
Harry ignored his thoughts, continuing to push further and further into the seemingly endless depths of the labyrinth.
Left, right, dead end. Take the left instead, now right, left, right, left, right -
A beautiful blue glow from just in front of him caught Harry's attention.
There it was. The Triwizard Cup. The priceless artifact sat upon a silver stand, gleaming in a manner not unsimilar to Hedwig's wings. It was a mere twenty metres away. There was just one problem.
Laying upon the path that separated Harry from the cup was a sphinx.
She had the body of an over-grown lion: soft golden fur, sharp claws, and a long tail. Its head, however, was one belonging to a woman.
A beautiful woman.
It was certainly true. Her features were unnaturally symmetrical, her almond-shaped eyes identical to Harry's (although they were hazel rather than emerald green). She watched him with curiosity and slight amusement, almost as though he were a mildly interesting television program that Dudley put on the tele.
"Harry Potter." she said, her voice matching her features perfectly, "It is lovely to meet you at last."
Harry paled slightly, his cheeks hollowing.
"Er - thanks?"
Harry wasn't quite sure how else to answer. Salazar had told him quite a bit about sphinx, particularly stressing the fact that it would be unwise to upset them. It was true, Harry could easily kill the creature with a Killing Curse (not that he would), or perhaps with a bit of Fiendfyre. But there was something about this particular sphinx, something that told him it would be a horrible idea to try.
"It was not a compliment." the sphinx stated, now smiling, "I am here to test you - you are quite interesting, you see."
"I am?"
"You are." agreed the sphinx, "Your life, your loss. Your recent discoveries, those who you surround yourself with. The ironic fact that to get what you desire, you must first end a Riddle - quite like right now."
"How do you know that?" asked Harry, his hand twitching towards his wand, something he had pocketed upon seeing the sphinx. The last thing Harry needed was for the sphinx to think that he was threatening her.
"The gift of sight." answered the sphinx plainly, "I was born nearly a thousand years ago - I am scheduled die quite soon. I have seen quite a few things of interest - the prophecy, mainly - as well as things that will occur after my death. It is why I am here - I have not been allowed to see how this story ends. This might give me the answer I seek."
"You're a seer?" asked Harry, surprised. He did his best to memorize everything she had said. If she truly was a seer - something Harry did not doubt - it could all prove to be immensely useful.
She certainly doesn't look a thousand years old.
"I am the only sphinx with the gift of sight." said the sphinx with a smile, "Witches and wizards are not the only magicals with gifts. Centaurs are seers as well, - although I assure you, they are far more confusing than I could ever hope to be."
"Right." said Harry, "And what was that about a thousand years? And the prophecy thing? And - er - anything else you might've seen?"
Harry flinched slightly as he spoke. He was starting to remember how obviously dangerous this sphinx undoubtedly was.
"A thousand is an immensely powerful magical number when it comes to life." answered the sphinx uncaringly, "No one lives past a thousand - not the phoenix, nor the basilisk, nor myself, nor anything and everything else. You'll learn more about that later, I'm sure. As for the prophecy . . . well, I suppose you'll learn about that later as well."
"Yet you lived to be a thousand?" asked Harry, ignoring the slight annoyance he felt at the sphinx's answer.
"Not yet." answered the sphinx lazily, "But I shall."
There was a silence for a short moment, one that Harry did not dare to break. A sphinx on its own would be hard to beat. One that knew his every move before he made it, however, was something else entirely.
The sphinx's eyes were fixed to his own, although Harry felt they were looking through him rather than at him.
But she isn't using Legilimency. I would know if she was.
"Salazar always asked the most of his descendants, but this . . ." said the sphinx curiously, before pausing. When she moved again, her smile had somehow grown even larger.
"I see." she muttered, "Your dear portrait is running out of time, just as I am. How . . . puzzling."
The sphinx paced back and forth, continuing to block the pathway.
She cleared her throat slightly, sitting upon the floor. She was in a neutral position - it would be easy for her to move into any position if the need arose.
"Shall I assume you wish to pass me?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Very well. Answer correctly upon your first try and I shall move aside. Answer incorrectly and I shall attack. Abstain from answering and I shall allow you to walk away with your head down and your tail tucked between your legs."
"Alright." said Harry after a deep breath, "I'm ready."
The sphinx's smile softened, her head tilting slightly to the side. When she spoke her riddle, her voice no longer held the faint amusement it had before.
"I am impossible to see, yet am easily heard. I have no mouth, yet I get the last word."
Harry's eyes narrowed. He knew this riddle - he had heard it many times when he was younger, and did not at all enjoy what the sphinx might have intended it to imply. The riddle, as Harry had always heard it, had been paired with the story of Echo and Narcissus - a story that had always rubbed him the wrong way.
A story about a girl who slowly fades into nothingness after losing the one she loves.
It was a story that had the potential to line up perfectly with current events. Harry gritted his teeth, his hand balling into a fist.
I won't let it happen.
"An echo." he muttered.
The sphinx smiled kindly, moving gracefully to the side.
"You have one more riddle ahead of you tonight, Mr. Potter." she said mysteriously, a touch of sympathy present within her voice, "Remember the answer you have just given me - it will be the answer to another question that might soon trouble you."
Harry nodded thankfully towards the sphinx, before hurrying forward. The cup was within his sight, it was waiting for him to claim it, yet Harry had just remembered something.
She said that she came here to find out how my story ends.
Harry turned around, hoping to ask the sphinx whether or not she had gotten the answer she was looking for.
She was gone.
Shaking his head in annoyance, Harry moved forward. The cup was a mere twenty metres away. Now fifteen. Ten. Five -
Wham!
Harry fell to the ground, his wand pointed at whatever had crashed into him. The hedges to his right had split open, allowing someone - or possibly something - to barrel right into him.
"Harry?" wheezed a familiar voice.
"Cedric?" asked Harry heavily, bewildered.
There was no mistaking it - the yellow and black robes made sure of that. Harry was surprised to see that he had less injuries than he had when Harry had run into him earlier. He was still covered in cuts and bruises, but not nearly as badly as before.
"Have you managed to heal yourself?" asked Harry quickly, causing Cedric to nod.
"Listen." panted Cedric, "There's something wrong. I ran into Fleur and Krum a while back, they were - "
"Unconscious?" gasped Harry, out of breath from the collision, "Surrounded by wards?"
Cedric nodded once more from his resting place upon the ground.
"That was you then?"
Harry nodded as well, putting his hands on his hips tiredly. Cedric did the same, his head eventually turning towards the celeste blue light emanating from the Triwizard Cup.
"Take it." Cedric panted out, "You were here first - take it and we can get out of here."
"No." said Harry with a shake of his head, "We're both here now. We can take it together."
They were so close to the end of this miserable tournament - this was practically the home stretch. Once they had gotten the cup they would no longer have to worry about any potential Death Eaters; Harry would finally have a year that didn't end with pain and sadness.
Harry would not, could not, let Cedric stay behind.
"Together?" questioned Cedric, a kind smile growing upon his face.
"Together."
The two champions tucked their wands back within their robes. They held their hands out, both slowly moving closer to the cup at a speed that perfectly matched the other's. The cup glowed brighter, seemingly sensing the two champions moving towards it.
A single sentence Harry had heard mere moments ago replayed itself in his mind.
You have one more riddle ahead of you tonight, Mr. Potter . . .
Riddle.
Harry's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak, to stop whatever was about to happen - but it was too late.
Both of their hands landed upon the Triwizard Cup. The world spun around them, twisting and contorting in the strangest of ways. When it had righted itself, Harry was immensely dizzy; the world was still spinning, he could not see properly. From the way Cedric was moaning beside him, Harry suspected it was the same with him.
A high, cold voice - one that Harry had often heard in his nightmares - whispered a single, chilling phrase.
"Kill the spare . . ."
"Avada Kedavra!"
"No!"
Thump.
Harry both felt and heard something behind him fall to the ground. He turned to Cedric, trying desperately to find the boy whom he had hoped to save, the one whose life had ended because of his own doing. Yet he could not see, for his eyes were still blurred and his head still ached. No matter how hard Harry tried, he could not find the Hufflepuff Champion -
This is my fault . . . Cedric, please -
The high, cold voice spoke once more, a bright red light issuing from the wand of the man who held him.
Harry fell to the ground, unmoving.