It was indeed fascinating.
With a flick of its tail, it slammed the ground, producing a loud explosion. Sparks erupted in all directions. The walls of the maze, protected by magic, extinguished the falling embers instantly.
But the pathways within the maze were unprotected, left charred and scorched.
Though Harry couldn't see its underside, the prominent spikes on its shell indicated that this was a male Blast-Ended Skrewt.
As Harry approached—
The Skrewt finally noticed him, charging forward with brutal speed. Its irregular legs somehow allowed for incredibly fast crawling, while its tail shot out bursts of fire with a whoosh each time, propelling it forward in massive leaps.
Its agility was entirely mismatched with its bulky form.
In the blink of an eye, it was upon him, raising its tail and releasing a ferocious blast of flames.
Harry sidestepped, swiftly casting a protective Protego around himself.
The fire was searing hot, nearly as intense as a coal furnace. It sent waves of heat rippling through the air, distorting the surroundings. Even with Protego shielding him, Harry could feel the scorching heat on his face.
One failed attack—
The Skrewt grew even more furious. It lashed its tail viciously, sending droplets of venom from its hooked barb splattering onto the ground. A sharp sizzle followed as the blackened earth corroded, leaving behind shallow pits of grayish vapor.
Harry was surprised.
Highly corrosive venom—something his current collection lacked. Hagrid had truly bred a remarkable creature.
He raised his wand.
Swish! Swish! Vines shot out, wrapping around the creature and lifting it into the air.
But this creature had been bred to match Hagrid's aesthetic—it was made to embody the very definition of "ferocious." The vines couldn't hold it. The jagged spikes on its shell shifted like saw blades, slicing through half of the vines in an instant.
Harry flicked his wand again.
The remaining vines immediately hardened into steel.
The spikes on the Skrewt's shell screeched, grinding against the metal, sparks flying everywhere. It wasn't an idle struggle—the spikes quickly wore down. But in mere moments, the shell writhed, and new spikes emerged.
Even steel, as tough as it was, was slowly being ground away.
More vines whipped forward, transforming into steel restraints, binding the creature from head to tail.
Harry made his second mental note—
Highly durable exoskeleton, with incredibly fast regenerative abilities.
This was an undocumented magical material. Determining which parts could be used, which couldn't, and how best to dissect it without damaging valuable components would take careful study.
For now, the Blast-Ended Skrewt was an invaluable specimen.
Although—
At the start of the school year, Hagrid had several crates of them, but many perished during growth, and they also had a tendency to attack each other.
Even in Hagrid's care, only ten remained.
Harry aimed at the Skrewt and incanted, "Stupefy!"
Bang!
Its shell contracted, effortlessly deflecting the spell.
Its resistance to magic was comparable to dragon hide.
Harry was even more intrigued. He waved his wand again, pulling a small vial from the Sorting Hat—a vial of Draught of Living Death. Two vines extended like hands, prying open the Skrewt's mandibles and forcing the potion down its throat.
Within moments, it succumbed, falling into a deep sleep without any resistance.
Poor resistance to potions.
Harry donned dragon-hide gloves and drew a dagger—but after a moment's thought, he put it back. A regular blade wouldn't be enough to cut through this thing's shell.
He retrieved the Sword of Gryffindor instead.
Outside the maze.
Ludo Bagman was practically shouting, stomping his feet.
"What is Potter doing!?"
"Merlin's beard, what on earth is he thinking!?"
"With such a massive lead, instead of rushing to claim the Triwizard Cup, he's… studying a Blast-Ended Skrewt?!"
"I recall that Skrewts were part of Hogwarts' Care of Magical Creatures curriculum this year?"
"Surely, Potter has encountered them before?"
Maxime and Karkaroff frowned.
From the stands, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang supporters erupted into furious boos.
Blatant home-field favoritism!
Ludo turned pale, realizing he had blurted out something he really shouldn't have.
Each Triwizard Tournament allowed for some "minor professor assistance," but it was never explicitly acknowledged—let alone spoken of openly.
"Mr. Bagman, I believe you're mistaken."
Dumbledore cleared his throat and amplified his voice with a Sonorus spell.
"Blast-Ended Skrewts are indeed part of this year's Care of Magical Creatures curriculum."
"But that has nothing to do with Mr. Potter."
"I suspect you may have overlooked something rather obvious—Potter's age."
"He is only fifteen—this is his fourth year. He and his classmates were only responsible for the Skrewts during their infancy for about a month. For the sake of fairness, once they matured, only sixth and seventh-year students were allowed to care for them."
"Furthermore, I can assure you, Professor Hagrid has never provided Potter with any private information regarding Skrewts."
Of course, Hagrid hadn't.
Before the second task, he had been too busy wallowing in self-pity over his "one-sided heartbreak."
And by the time Harry had comforted him, Hagrid had thrown himself into learning English and writing his academic paper.
Skrewts?
Only now, as Dumbledore mentioned them, did Hagrid suddenly realize—Oh no! I never told Harry their weak points!
Flitwick leaned in, lowering his voice. "You really didn't tell him? He's been spending all this time with you."
"I forgot," Hagrid admitted, ashamed. "Harry's been teaching me to read and write—there wasn't much time for other conversations."
Flitwick leaned back, giving him an odd look. "So… it wasn't you keeping Harry locked up—it was Harry keeping you locked up?"
Hagrid froze, then nodded glumly.
Flitwick's expression shifted to pity.
From nearby, McGonagall and Sprout gave Hagrid similar looks—only Snape sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "How ridiculous. A Hogwarts professor having to relearn his own native language."
Ludo was still stomping his feet.
He desperately wished his voice could reach inside the maze.
Hurry up!
Mr. Potter, move faster—it's been five whole minutes and you've only cleared two paths. There's still four-fifths of the maze left before the Cup!
At this pace, it'll take over twenty minutes.
That meant less money in his pocket!
Inside the maze.
Harry carefully dissected the Skrewt.
Its venom was safely collected in glass vials. Its heart, bone spurs, and shell—none were wasted. In the end, only a heap of useless flesh remained on the ground.
He moved forward.
He encountered many creatures, but none as rare as the Skrewt.
Red Caps, Boggarts, Trolls…
All were common Forbidden Forest creatures. It seemed the Ministry had been rather lazy when constructing this maze—they hadn't imported many unique magical beasts from foreign regions.
The only exotic creature he encountered was a Tebo, a wart-covered warthog native to Africa.
Harry was unimpressed.
Still, remembering Ludo's instructions, he merely shaved off some of its bristles and collected a pound of its blood before letting it go.
The creature, as timid as Fang, bolted instantly. In mere moments, it vanished—using its innate magical ability to turn invisible when in danger.
Its blood was a crucial ingredient in Invisibility Potions.
Its hide was often used for protective gear, but Harry already had dragon hide and Skrewt armor, so he had no interest in it.
Finally, as he ventured deeper, through a narrow, straight pathway—he encountered something truly interesting.
A lion—with a woman's head.
Judging by its size and the long mane at its chest, there was no doubt about its gender.
A Sphinx.
Chapter 218: The Letter
The Sphinx, an ancient and powerful creature.
"The first little wizard," it spoke, its female human head uttering a hoarse and low male voice. "By the time you see me, it means you are very close to your goal."
"You may choose to turn back and find another path."
"Or you can take the fastest route—by passing through me."
It stood up, blocking the path completely. "You must have heard of the Sphinx's legend. To pass, you must solve my riddle."
"You have only one chance."
"If you fail, I will pounce on you. Of course, I won't kill you—I will stop just before I bite down, but you will be deemed to have failed this task."
"If you answer correctly, I will let you pass."
Outside the maze.
Ludo climbed onto a stool, raising his hand to check the time.
Although Harry had wasted some time with the Skrewt, he had barely taken any wrong turns afterward. Every magical creature blocking his way had been swiftly dealt with.
It had only been thirteen minutes.
His voice grew even more excited. "The audience might not realize this, but I can tell you—now, there is only one thing standing between Potter and the Triwizard Cup."
"A Sphinx."
"This legendary creature from the Middle East is known for challenging travelers with riddles."
"But we all know—Potter has a gift for solving puzzles!"
"He cracked the second task's golden egg riddle in just a day."
"At this rate, the Triwizard Cup is as good as his."
His expression was outright greedy.
Karkaroff and Maxime sneered, even Dumbledore looked displeased. He had always despised people who were controlled by their desires rather than the other way around.
Students from all three schools—even Gryffindor and Slytherin—united in booing Ludo.
But their disdain didn't affect him in the slightest. His voice remained jubilant, almost as if the sound of clinking Galleons rang within it.
"Now, let's check in on Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum!"
"Their strategy was excellent."
"But the maze is treacherous—only the strongest champions can move freely within it. Thirteen minutes have passed, and they still haven't finished mapping the area."
"By the time they finally set their traps, they might just discover that Potter has already walked out with the Triwizard Cup, victorious."
And with that—Ludo would receive his payout of Galleons.
Inside the maze.
The Sphinx stretched lazily, then lay back down.
It hadn't sensed any real threat from this young wizard. "Well, little wizard, have you made your choice?"
Harry slowly spoke, "How about this—I'll ask you a question first."
The Sphinx tilted its head, looking somewhat pitiful.
"You tell me," Harry said, raising his wand in one hand and the Sword of Gryffindor in the other, "which would hurt more—if I hit you with my wand?"
"Or if I slashed you with my sword?"
The Sphinx froze.
Its fur bristled instantly as it stood up, its body arched and tense, ready to pounce. Its whip-like tail hung low, the tip brushing against the ground.
Danger!
Just moments ago, this little wizard had seemed harmless—but now, he was extremely dangerous.
What was with that look in his eyes?
Harry sheathed the Sword of Gryffindor back into the Sorting Hat and pulled out another weapon—the Basilisk Bone Sword.
A long, pale-white bone sword, emanating a chilling aura.
The Sphinx took two steps back, staring in disbelief at the blade. "Is that… made from Basilisk bone?"
As a creature from the Middle East, the Sphinx was all too familiar with Basilisks.
The very first Basilisk had been created in that region—by Herpo the Foul, a notorious Dark wizard from ancient Greece.
"This was my trophy from second year," Harry said calmly.
The Sphinx took another step back.
It was a dangerous creature—but compared to a Basilisk…
The gap was astronomical.
Basilisks didn't bother with riddles. They only pondered how to swallow their prey whole.
"Oh, by the way," Harry added, "I'm in my fourth year now."
The Sphinx fell silent for a long time. Then, all of a sudden, it raised a paw and clapped it down. "Congratulations, little wizard! The answer to my riddle was 'fourth year.' You even answered it before I could ask!"
"You may pass."
It stood up and stretched out its front legs as far as possible, making way for Harry.
Harry didn't move forward immediately. He instead stared at the Sphinx's trembling hind legs and spoke thoughtfully, "I recall that a Sphinx's heart is a highly valuable potion ingredient?"
"No! You can't!" The Sphinx's eyes widened in panic, its head shaking frantically. "Your Ministry of Magic promised to protect me!"
"This would cause huge trouble!"
Harry continued scrutinizing it.
Outside the maze, Ludo and the Ministry officials were starting to panic.
Was this going to be another first-task disaster?
Even if they rushed in now, they wouldn't make it in time to stop him.
"Forget it," Harry sighed. "I did promise Mr. Bagman."
Inside and outside the maze, multiple beings let out sighs of relief.
"But we can keep in touch," Harry added enthusiastically. He flicked his wand, sending a parchment and quill flying out from the Sorting Hat. The quill scribbled down an address before the parchment floated into the Sphinx's mane. "Write to me over the summer."
The Sphinx gave him a dry, forced smile.
Harry stepped past it and continued forward.
With a thud, the Sphinx collapsed onto the ground. Its hind legs had already given out long ago—it had been standing purely out of sheer survival instinct.
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Powerstones?
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