The Quidditch pitch had vanished. In its place stood an alien landscape of towering hedges that stretched twenty feet into the air, their dark green walls casting long shadows across the ground as the late afternoon sun began its descent. Where normally there would be the familiar comfort of goal hoops and viewing stands, now there was only the forbidding entrance to a vast maze, its dark opening like the mouth of some ancient beast waiting to swallow the champions whole. The transformation was so complete that students who had spent years watching matches from these same stands found themselves disoriented, as if Hogwarts itself had somehow been replaced by a stranger wearing its face.
In the front row of the eastern stands, Chris sat with Susan pressed close against his side, her fingers intertwined with his in a grip that betrayed her nervousness despite her outwardly calm expression. Hannah and Hermione flanked them, both leaning forward with identical looks of intense focus. Daphne maintained her usual composed posture behind them, though her eyes never left the champions gathered at the maze entrance. Astoria had claimed her customary position on Chris's lap, her small body practically vibrating with excitement as she pointed toward Harry in the distance.
"He looks ready," Susan whispered, her breath warm against Chris's ear. "All those weeks of training..."
"He is ready," Chris replied, the quiet confidence in his voice providing reassurance not just to Susan but to the entire group. His sapphire eyes tracked Harry's movements with analytical precision, noting the controlled breathing techniques they'd practiced, the relaxed-but-alert posture they'd drilled into him. "Look at him. He's centered, focused. Not a trace of the panic we saw before the first task."
Hermione nodded, a small smile of pride touching her lips. "It's remarkable how far he's come."
Across the pitch, the four champions stood before Dumbledore and the other judges, a tableau of youth and determination against the backdrop of authoritative age. Harry's messy black hair caught the sunlight as he adjusted his glasses, his green eyes fixed on the maze entrance with resolute calm. Beside him, Cedric rolled his shoulders, loosening muscles tight with anticipation. Krum stood slightly apart, his heavy brows drawn together in concentration, while Fleur smoothed her silver-blonde hair back with practiced fingers, her usual ethereal beauty tempered by the grim set of her jaw.
Ludo Bagman's magically amplified voice suddenly boomed across the stadium, cutting through the murmured conversations and sending birds scattering from the nearby trees.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament!" His voice vibrated with theatrical excitement. "The champions will enter the maze in order of their current standing. Inside, they will face obstacles of every description – magical creatures, enchantments, puzzles, and perhaps a few surprises we've designed especially for the occasion!"
A ripple of anticipation moved through the crowd. Astoria bounced on Chris's knee, her small hands clapping together.
"In fourth place, with sixty-four points, Fleur Delacour!" Bagman announced.
Polite applause rose from the stands, punctuated by more enthusiastic cheers from the Beauxbatons contingent. Fleur acknowledged this with a graceful nod, though her focus remained on the maze before her.
"Tied in second place, with seventy-eight points, Viktor Krum!"
The Durmstrang students roared their approval, heavy boots stomping rhythmically against the wooden stands.
"And also tied in second place, with seventy-eight points, Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff section erupted, yellow banners waving frantically. Hannah joined in, her loyalty to her house momentarily overriding her investment in Harry's success.
"And in first place, with a magnificent eighty-five points, Harry Potter!"
The cheer that rose from the Gryffindor stands was deafening, but Chris noted with satisfaction that scattered applause came from other houses as well, even a few grudging claps from the Slytherin section. Harry had earned respect over the course of the tournament, a fact not lost on his schoolmates.
Dumbledore stepped forward, his tall figure commanding immediate attention. The usual twinkle in his eyes was back as he addressed the champions.
"Inside this maze, you will find not only challenge and adventure, but danger," he said, his voice carrying without magical assistance. "If at any point you wish to withdraw from the task, send red sparks into the air, and one of our patrolling staff will come to your aid. Remember: the Triwizard Cup waits at the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks and be declared the winner of the Tournament." He paused, surveying each champion in turn. "Good luck to you all."
Harry clapped Cedric on the back, a gesture of camaraderie that brought a smile to the Hufflepuff's face. He exchanged a brief, encouraging nod with Fleur, whose lips curved upward in response. Even Krum's perpetual scowl softened slightly as Harry acknowledged him with a respectful inclination of his head.
Bagman raised his wand to his throat. "On my whistle, Harry Potter will enter the maze." The whistle shrieked, piercing the tense silence. "Three... two... one..."
The sharp blast cut through the air. Harry stepped forward without hesitation, his stride confident as he passed between the towering hedges. Within moments, the greenery seemed to shift behind him, closing like a curtain and cutting him off from view.
Inside the maze, the noise of the crowd muffled almost instantly, as if Harry had stepped into another world. The hedges loomed above him, their shadows creating a premature twilight that deepened with each step he took. He drew his wand, whispering "Lumos" to combat the growing darkness, and the tip ignited, casting a small circle of illumination that only served to make the surrounding shadows more pronounced.
He moved with purpose, remembering Chris's advice: "Don't let the maze disorient you. Trust your instincts, but verify with magic when needed." At the first fork, Harry paused, then cast the Four-Point Spell they had practiced. His wand spun like a compass needle before pointing slightly to his right. North – and the center of the maze would be northwest. He took the right-hand path.
The silence pressed against his ears, broken only by the soft sound of his footsteps and the occasional rustle from the hedges themselves, as if they were alive and watching his progress. He tried not to think about that possibility too deeply.
Around a corner, Harry stopped abruptly. A figure stood in his path, Lord Voldemort, resurrected and terrible, wand raised and crimson eyes gleaming with hatred. For a heartbeat, fear lanced through him, but then training took over. He recognized the distinctive shimmer around the edges of the figure.
"Riddikulus!" Harry shouted, focusing on the memory of Snape in Neville's grandmother's clothes. The Boggart-Voldemort stumbled, his fearsome appearance melting away as he suddenly found himself wearing Augusta Longbottom's vulture hat and handbag. Harry laughed, the sound genuine, and the Boggart exploded into wisps of smoke.
"Thank you, Hermione," he murmured, remembering how she had drilled him on Boggart recognition and banishment.
Pressing onward, Harry encountered an intersection where all paths looked identical. He was about to use the Four-Point Spell again when a distinctive scuttling sound froze him in place. From around the corner emerged a Blast-Ended Skrewt, larger than any Hagrid had shown them in class, its armored shell gleaming in the wandlight, its stinger poised above its back like a scorpion's.
Harry's mind raced through options. The creature's armor would deflect most direct spells. But Chris had emphasized creative applications of transfiguration in their training. Instead of targeting the Skrewt itself, Harry pointed his wand at the ground beneath it.
"Congelo Terram!" he incanted, freezing the earth into a slick sheet of ice. As the Skrewt scuttled forward, its legs lost grip, sending it sliding helplessly past Harry. Before it could recover, he conjured a heavy net that descended over the creature, temporarily entangling it.
"Not bad, Potter," he could almost hear Daphne's cool approval as he slipped past the struggling creature and continued deeper into the maze.
Twice, Harry heard distant shouts and saw flashes of light reflected against the night sky – signs that other champions were encountering their own challenges. Once, he thought he heard Fleur's voice, calling out in alarm. He hesitated, torn between investigating and pressing forward. Susan's words came back to him: "Remember, Harry, the professors are patrolling. If someone's truly in trouble, they'll send up red sparks."
No red sparks appeared, so Harry pressed on, his pace quickening as he sensed he was drawing closer to the center. The paths began to narrow, the hedges pressing in, their branches sometimes reaching out like grasping fingers that he had to dodge or sever with cutting spells.
He rounded a corner and found himself face to face with a Sphinx, its woman's head and lion's body blocking the path completely. Its eyes studied him with ancient intelligence.
"You are very close to your goal," it said in a deep, melodious voice. "The quickest way is past me."
"I have to solve a riddle?" Harry asked, remembering Hermione's detailed explanation of magical creatures they might encounter.
"Answer correctly on your first guess, I let you pass. Answer wrongly, I attack. Remain silent, I will let you walk away unharmed."
Harry nodded, steeling himself. "I'm ready."
The Sphinx recited:
"First think of the person who lives in disguise,
Who deals in secrets and tells naught but 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 for a hard-to-find word.
Now string them together, and answer me this,
Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"
Harry closed his eyes, concentrating. A person in disguise, dealing in secrets... a spy. The last thing in mend, the middle of middle, the end of end... the letter 'd'. A sound made when searching for a word... 'er'. Spy-d-er. Spider!
"A spider," Harry answered confidently.
The Sphinx smiled and stood aside, clearing his path. "Well reasoned. You may pass."
Heart pounding, Harry sprinted down the newly revealed path. The hedges began to thin, the darkness lifting slightly. He rounded one final corner and skidded to a halt, gasping.
There, on a plinth in the very center of a circular clearing, stood the Triwizard Cup, glowing with an ethereal blue light that illuminated the entire space. Its silver surface reflected the wandlight, sending dancing beams across the hedge walls.
A wave of pure elation washed over Harry. He had done it. He was first. He had won. With a triumphant grin, he sprinted the last few meters and grasped the cup's handle.
Instantly, he felt the familiar tug behind his navel, the unmistakable sensation of a Portkey activating. For a split second, panic flared, being sent to darkness, but instead of darkness, he was engulfed in swirling light.
When the world stopped spinning, Harry found himself standing before the maze entrance, directly in front of the judges' table and facing the packed stands, the Triwizard Cup clutched firmly in his hands.
...
The stunned silence lasted only a heartbeat before the crowd exploded. The roar that erupted from the stands was physical, a tangible wave of sound that washed over the arena, rattling the viewing platforms and drowning out individual voices in its collective force. Gryffindor students, faces painted red and gold, leapt to their feet, screaming Harry's name until their voices cracked. Hufflepuffs, though disappointed for Cedric, found themselves caught up in the infectious excitement, while Ravenclaws applauded the sheer efficiency of Harry's victory. Even some Slytherins, those less invested in house rivalries, offered grudging applause for the youngest champion's remarkable achievement.
Ludo Bagman stood frozen for a moment, his enchanted megaphone hanging limply at his side, his expression cycling rapidly through confusion, disbelief, and finally unbridled excitement. He snatched the megaphone to his lips, his voice cracking with emotion as he shouted over the noise.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, a truly astonishing finish! Harry Potter of Hogwarts... has won the Triwizard Tournament!" His words sent another wave of cheering cascading through the stands. "The youngest champion in Triwizard history has completed the maze in record time! Extraordinary! Unprecedented!"
At the judges' table, Dumbledore had risen to his feet, his silver beard gleaming in the evening light. His blue eyes twinkled with what appeared to be genuine pride, though there was also a flicker of something else, surprise, and confusion at the swiftness of Harry's victory. He stepped forward, arms outstretched in congratulation.
"Well done, Harry," he said, his voice carrying despite the tumult. "A most impressive performance."
But Harry, still clutching the Triwizard Cup in one hand, barely acknowledged the Headmaster. His attention was captured by the surge of Gryffindors who had poured from the stands like a crimson and gold tide, led by the Weasley twins who hoisted him onto their shoulders before Dumbledore could reach him. Harry's face split in a grin of pure exhilaration as he held the cup aloft, its silver surface catching the last rays of the setting sun.
"Potter! Potter! Potter!" The chant grew, spreading beyond Gryffindor to encompass much of the crowd.
In the front row of the stands, Chris exchanged triumphant high-fives with Susan and Hannah, their faces alight with vindication. Hermione's eyes shimmered with unshed tears of pride, while Daphne's usually composed features had softened into a rare, genuine smile. Astoria was practically dancing in her seat, her small hands clapping in rhythm to the Potter chant.
"We did it," Susan whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she gripped Chris's hand. "All those hours of training, all those spells and strategies..."
"He did it," Chris corrected gently, though his eyes shone with unmistakable satisfaction. "We gave him the tools, but he used them perfectly." There was a paternal pride in his voice, as though Harry were somehow their collective protégé, a child they had raised to face this challenge.
Hermione nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Did you see how he handled himself? So methodical, so confident. Nothing like the Harry who faced the dragon."
"Our Harry," Hannah agreed, the simple phrase encompassing all they felt about the boy they had helped transform from an unprepared, frightened fourth-year into the Triwizard Champion.
Even Daphne, ever practical, appeared moved. "He did rather well," she admitted, which from her was equivalent to effusive praise. "Though I suspect we won't hear the end of this from the Gryffindors for quite some time."
As twilight deepened into evening, the celebration migrated from the Quidditch pitch to the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected a perfect night sky, stars twinkling between floating candles that had been charmed to emit occasional bursts of red and gold sparks. Enormous banners proclaiming "Congratulations, Harry Potter!" hung from the rafters, while the house tables groaned beneath the weight of a feast that rivaled the opening banquet in its splendor. House elves had outdone themselves, producing elaborate pastries shaped like the Triwizard Cup, roasts garnished with edible golden snitches, and goblets that periodically shot harmless fountains of sparkling juice into the air.
Harry sat at the center of the Gryffindor table, the Triwizard Cup positioned prominently before him, its silver surface reflecting the candlelight in dancing patterns across his face. The shadows that had haunted his eyes since Halloween night, when his name had emerged from the Goblet of Fire, had vanished, replaced by a light of genuine happiness and relief.
Well-wishers from all houses approached him throughout the evening, offering congratulations, asking for details about the maze, or simply wanting to touch the cup for luck. Harry received them all with a newfound grace and confidence, the months of pressure and preparation having forged something new in him, a steady assurance that hadn't existed before.
In a quiet corner of the hall, Chris had gathered their study group around a smaller table. Fleur had joined them, her earlier disappointment at her own performance tempered by genuine pleasure at Harry's success, and perhaps by the special attention Chris showed her, ensuring she felt included despite her fourth-place finish.
"To Harry," Chris said, raising a glass of pumpkin juice in a private toast. "And to us. All that hard work paid off." His eyes moved around the circle, acknowledging each person's contribution. "Susan, Hannah, your defensive spells kept him safe. Hermione, your research was flawless as always. Daphne, your strategic insights were invaluable."
"And your leadership," Susan added softly, touching her glass to his. "You brought us all together, showed us what was possible."
Across the hall, the other champions presented a study in contrasting reactions. Cedric Diggory sat with his fellow Hufflepuffs, his handsome face reflecting disappointment but no bitterness. Occasionally, he would glance toward Harry and offer a small, gracious smile of acknowledgment. Viktor Krum had rejoined his Durmstrang schoolmates, his heavy features set in a stoic mask that revealed little of his thoughts, though he did raise his goblet once when Harry caught his eye, a silent salute from one competitor to another.
As the evening wore on, the celebration transformed from formal feast to something more organic and joyful. Someone had charmed a set of instruments to play themselves, filling the hall with music that soon had students on their feet, dancing between the tables. Laughter echoed against the ancient stones, punctuated by the occasional cheer when someone proposed yet another toast to Harry's health and victory.
Harry himself eventually made his way to the study group's table, slipping into an empty chair between Hermione and Hannah. His face was flushed with happiness, his green eyes bright behind his glasses.
"I couldn't have done it without you all," he said simply, his voice low enough that only they could hear. "Not just the spells and the training, but... believing in me, when almost no one else did."
Chris reached across the table to clasp Harry's shoulder briefly. "We always knew you had it in you, Harry. You just needed the right tools and support."
"And now," Daphne observed with a rare hint of warmth in her cool voice, "you're the Triwizard Champion. No one can ever take that away from you."
Harry's face brightened further at her words, their truth settling into him like a physical warmth. He had entered the tournament unwillingly, thrust into a competition beyond his years by forces he hadn't understood. Yet here he sat, victorious, surrounded by friends who had seen his potential and helped him realize it. The path had been difficult, fraught with challenges that had tested him to his limits, but the destination, this moment of triumph and belonging, made every step worthwhile.