A/N: Fun fact: this is the longest chapter I've ever written, going by this site's chapter stats. It's almost as long as my last dissertation! I'd like to say that's why it's taken so long to appear, but we all know it isn't (although I did struggle with one of the scenes here, which is pretty crucial to the ongoing plot). Big thanks to those at DLP who helped me whip it into shape. The next chapter is actually ready to go, but because it's a bit of a cliffhanger I'm going to wait until chapter 19 is under way, which hopefully won't be too long - as you may be able to tell from a quick look at my profile, I've been on a bit of a spree recently.

Chapter 17: The Triwizard Cup

From the beginning of May, most of the sixth and seventh years could be found either in the Library or the Great Hall. The Library was favoured by those who preferred independent study, while the Great Hall was the venue of choice for those who worked better in groups – or those who could pretend to be in a study group while in reality goofing around with their friends.

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have spent the first half of the month pouring over obscure texts to dredge up some interesting facts to pad out his essays, before joining his friends in the latter weeks to take part in some quizzes. On this occasion, however, the question did not apply.

He strolled leisurely into the Hall about halfway through breakfast, dressed far more casually than those around him, and headed to the Ravenclaw house table. Anthony and Terry were flicking through a variety of textbooks, twinned expressions of mounting panic on their faces. He sat down next to Anthony, poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, and started to nibble on some toast. Nothing was said for several minutes. Then:

"So. What's everyone up to today?"

Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, then carried on with his studies, not giving any other indication he had heard his friend. Terry, on the other hand, looked up with a glower. "Potions. It's a three hour exam, practical and theory!"

"Oh, yeah. I remember Slughorn saying. Sounded nasty," Harry remarked.

"I still can't believe you get out of exams," Terry muttered, looking back down at his book. "How is that even remotely fair?"

"You haven't nearly been killed," Harry said.

"So far. When my mum sees my Transfiguration marks it'll be a close run thing."

"You don't know you've done that badly, McGonagall won't have marked them yet!"

"I don't need her to mark them to tell me how well I did," Terry said morosely. "I turned my tea cup into a tortoise, not a rabbit."

"At least you managed to turn it into something," Harry said. "That's got to count for at least half-marks."

"I should be so lucky," Terry said, flicking over another page of the textbook. "Potions isn't looking great either."

"Want me to test you?" Harry asked, reaching out to take the book from him. Terry snatched it away with a glare.

"You know I hate that. It just makes me feel insecure."

Harry held his hands up in apology, letting Terry bury his head again. The other boy could quote chapter and verse on most magical theory, but actual tests caused him to break out in a cold sweat. Anthony on the other hand merely looked bored; the more pragmatic of the two, he would save any panic for after the exam, knowing there was little more to be done at this stage. As if to demonstrate, he closed his textbook and snagged a couple of sausages from the platter.

"So where's Lisa?"

"She takes a long bath before an exam," Harry said. "She says it unwinds her."

"She'll need it for Arithmancy. I was looking at some of the past papers – discussion of the importance of the number seven with regard to the mechanics of time travel!"

Harry frowned. "I assume that makes some sort of sense if you took Arithmancy past OWL?"

"I think it's supposed to. Can't say that it did, but I think it should have done."

"Lovely. Glad I dropped it!"

"Yeah, well, Vector's one of those professors who tries to get you to a better standard than the official NEWT. Which is great, because next year will be a doddle, but…"

"Not much fun today?"

Anthony shrugged. "Arithmancy's mental, but at least it doesn't blow up in your face if you get a sum wrong. Potions is still the trickier one, if you ask me."

"Well let me know how that goes," Harry said with a smile.

"So what are you doing today?"

"Oh, I don't know really. Might go back to bed, do a bit of reading. Take an early lunch – maybe go and study by the lake this afternoon. The weather's going to be glorious!"

"Git. This is the real reason you wanted to be the Champion, isn't it?"

"No, just a lovely bonus," Harry said with a grin. Anthony just shook his head, turning back to his breakfast. Harry followed his lead, crafting a couple of bacon sandwiches which he then wrapped in a napkin with a Warming Charm on. That done, he got up to leave, noticing as he did so that Hermione was in full lecture mode over at the Gryffindor table. Ron, who was taking neither Potions nor Arithmancy, the only sixth year exams scheduled that day, was looking almost stupefied with boredom, but didn't appear to have worked out how to cut the lecture off in its prime. Harry debated for a second whether to go over and distract her, but decided against it. He'd take the post-exam shift if required.

He made his way back up to Ravenclaw Tower, arriving just as Lisa walked into the common room, her hair still damp from the bath. She smiled when she saw him, and beamed when he offered her the bacon sandwiches.

"Still warm, too. You really do think of everything!"

"I do my best. Ready for the exam?"

Lisa nodded, her mouth full. "I think so," she said once she'd swallowed. "I found a fun little theory in one of the journals last night, think I might bring that in – how incantations where the total letters are prime numbers are more effective. Vector will love that."

Harry frowned. "That can't be right."

"How would you know?" she replied with a teasing smile. She laughed at his answering scowl, and pecked him on the cheek. "I'd better get going. Thanks for the sandwich!"

"Anytime. Good luck!"

As she left, he headed up to his own dorm. Despite his earlier remarks to Anthony, he wasn't planning on going back to sleep. The Tournament final was in three days, and he had a lot to prepare for. Not least of which was the fact that in the final, the Champions would be given free rein to attack each other, should circumstances allow.

Aramov's idea of fun was brawling with a Chimera. He needed to be better either at duelling or running away, and he still wasn't sure which was the wiser option.

"Welcome, one and all, to the grand finale of the Triwizard Tournament of 1996!"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, peering into the portal before him. The judges and the crowd were separated for the final; the crowd gathered in the Quidditch stands and the judges – and, for the moment, the Champions and their families – atop the Astronomy Tower.

"Tonight, our three Champions compete one final time for glory, honour, and of course no small amount of gold, which I am sure is of little concern to such talented students!"

There was a ripple of laughter from the crowd, echoing through the portal, and almost against his will Harry found himself smiling. In truth, Dumbledore's joke was nearer the mark than many would guess, as far as he was concerned – the gold was genuinely quite low on his list of priorities. However, he did have plans for after his NEWTS; he had heard wonderful things about the sunken markets below Venice, and a thousand galleons would probably buy him a grimoire or two with enough left for lunch afterwards.

"All three Champions have proven their skill in many ways; spellcraft, bravery, adaptability, cunning, intelligence…they should be proud, I hope just as proud as I and Professors Karkaroff and Maxime undoubtedly are. However! There can only be one true Champion…and I suspect we are in for a rare treat tonight. It has been a long time since the Champions entered the final so closely tied on points.

"As is tradition, the Champion currently in the lead – which is of course Mister Potter – "

The portal shimmered slightly with the vibrations from the whooping cheer that greeted this, and Harry shuffled a little in pleased embarrassment. Standing next to him, Lily squeezed his hand.

"Quite, yes. Mister Potter, being the highest scoring Champion, will collect the first Portkey. This will deposit him at a location which I will not, at this moment, disclose, but will be closer to the castle than his rivals. Miss Aramov will take the second Portkey, but due to the tightness of the scores, she will not be far behind! Mister Merovich will be bringing up the rear with the third Portkey, but he will be champing at the bit to get ahead, I am quite sure!"

Harry's eyes wandered across to the other two Champions. He thought Dumbledore might have understated it. While he and Reynard had enjoyed a rather amiable rivalry for the majority of the Tournament, there was an unexpected fire in the French wizard's eyes tonight. Reynard caught his gaze for a moment, and nodded without smiling. Harry nodded back, his queasiness returning.

"You're going to be brilliant, Harry," Lily whispered, drawing his attention. Harry smiled at her.

"I'll do my best, mum."

"Of course. You always do," she said fondly. "You've been magnificent this year, Harry. Your father and I are so proud of you."

"I know," he murmured, that odd combination of pleased embarrassment hitting him once more.

"Tonight's challenge is quite simple – although our Champions would do well to remember that simple is not necessarily easy! All they have to do is make their way back here, to the top of the Astronomy Tower. There are of course certain obstacles in their way, but I know they will do everything in their power to prevail. And so, without further ado, Mister Potter?"

"Kick their arses, son," his dad whispered, clapping him on the back. Stepping forward with a grin, Harry took a deep breath, and touched his hand to the Portkey offered to him.

The world started to spin, and his nausea increased a hundred-fold. He just had time, before reality folded around him, to consider the potential dangers about teleporting from the highest point of the school to somewhere which, statistically speaking, would be a long way below him.

He managed to bite back the curse before he vanished.

A matter of seconds later, the Portkey's magic released him, and he shot away to land sprawled in the middle of a clump of trees. He lay there for a few seconds, catching his breath. He hated Portkeys. Really, really hated them.

He couldn't afford to lie around for too long though. Aramov would probably be collecting her Portkey there and then, and she wouldn't be more than a mile further away from the castle. He sat up, and conjured a couple of hovering balls of light.

He didn't need to have Neville's grasp of Herbology to work out where he was. Although he had only once set foot over the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest, and that a long time ago, the trees that comprised it were distinctive; their twisted, warped limbs were all the warning most of the students needed to ensure they stayed away. The Forest didn't just look spooky, it looked wrong.

For a fleeting moment, all the rumours he had heard about the Forest darted through his thoughts. Werewolves lived there. Ghouls and trolls and wild Gytrash. And more insidious threats, creatures that would steal your thoughts and wear them like fine robes.

Harry shivered, and conjured more light…but sent them floating at a distance from him. There was no point in making himself more of a target than he would already be. The immediate issue solved, he bent down, looking round for a stone. He stuck it to the front of his robes, working an enchantment on it to make it vibrate as long as he was headed towards Hogwarts. Once the stone started buzzing against his chest, he set off, the balls of light moving with him.

The forest was quiet. It did little to make Harry feel more comfortable. Intellectually, he knew most of the rumours were just that. The only werewolf who had been anywhere near the Forest in fifty years was Remus, and nothing truly dangerous would be allowed so close to the castle. Unlike most students, he had more than common sense backing that up; his dad, Sirius, Remus and Peter had explored the Forest extensively when they were still students, and never seen anything more dangerous than a troll, and that had been several hours walk into the heart of the Forest. He doubted he had been sent that far in.

Of course, he had to consider the possibility that there were non-native creatures prowling the shadows that night, to say nothing of enchantments and traps.

He had been walking for maybe ten minutes when he first saw it: a white streak that vanished between the trees as quick as he had first noticed it. He conjured more light balls, expanding their flight path to illuminate more of the Forest, but they revealed nothing. He paused, turning in a slow circle, but again, there was nothing to be seen. He set off again, keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. A dozen feet or so further, and he began to realize that the trees which surrounded him were getting closer together. They weren't Whomping Willows, and Harry took a moment to run through a mental list of other trees which might have been put in place to ambush unsuspecting Champions. Worryingly, nothing sprang to mind.

He cast a few vaguely remembered spells they had learnt in Herbology, only to find that they were perfectly ordinary trees, save for their age – all of the ones nearest him were at least five hundred years old.

He jumped at a chittering sound above him, stepping away from the tree and raising his wand. The small, beady yellow eyes of a bowtruckle gazed back at him, before the little creature scurried away. Harry took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear his thoughts before he carried on.

The pathway became narrower the further he walked, and the attack didn't come until he was having to duck under overhanging branches, his lights just that bit too far away for him to see anything close to him. He only heard the growling as something slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground. He swore, pulling himself away from his attacker and rolling onto his back, straightening his glasses as he did. It was a Gytrash, and it was already leaping for him again, jaws wide. Harry rolled to the side, swearing again. That was the second time in the Tournament a Gytrash had caught him off guard in more or less precisely the same manner – it wasn't going to happen a third time.

He pushed himself to his knees as the spectral hound whirled to face him. He brought his wand arm up and behind his head, slashing his wand forward as if he were throwing a javelin. Rather than throwing the wand though, on the downward motion a spear of cobalt light erupted from the wooden shaft, skewering the Gytrash. It just had time to let out a shocked whine before the spear exploded, leaving spots of blue light hanging in front of Harry's eyes, and of the Gytrash no sign at all.

He stood up on shaky legs, and looked around. The conjured lights, still floating although now stationary, revealed three more Gytrash, watching him. He fancied a touch of trepidation about their gaze now though. To reinforce the point, he waved his wand once more, conjuring tendrils of blue fire that wound through the trees to get to the Gytrash. Where the fire touched the trees, it snuffed out, but either enough got through or the Gytrash were intelligent enough not to attack something that had already obliterated one member of their pack; they turned tail and bounded away, deeper into the Forest. Perhaps they would go off and pester Aramov for a bit, although he doubted that she would even break stride in dealing with them.

Thinking of Aramov made him check his watch. While there was no time limit as such, he didn't want to take too long getting out of the Forest. He was beginning to think that there might not be much in the way of non-physical challenges prior to getting back to the castle, and he stepped forward to test his theory. If the fire had snuffed out when it touched the trees…

"Flagrate!"

A fiery cross stubbornly refused to appear on the bark. He tried a few more spells – colour changes, singing charms, Transfiguration into a magpie – but nothing had any effect.

"Fascinating…" he breathed. It could of course be an enchantment layered over the Forest for the purposes of the Tournament, but that seemed impractical; even with the knowledge of where the Champions would be entering the Forest, and reasonable assumptions about the paths that would be taken to get out, the Forest spanned several miles of land. It would be perfectly possible to cast protections, but an awful lot of effort and for the vast majority of the area they would cover, entirely pointless. Besides, there were none of the tell-tale signs of warding over the trees or the ground. It seemed that the trees had simply acquired a resistance to magic over the centuries. How had he been at Hogwarts for seven years and not studied the Forest? He would have to…come back another time, he realised, forcing his thoughts back to the matter at hand. But he would be back, he vowed. His weekends from now until the end of term.

As he moved on, he tried more than once to break into a run, or at least a brisk jog, but the Forest seemed to be conspiring against him. The path would become less overhung, only for him to find that roots and rocks were scattering the path, just waiting for him to trip over them. When the path was clear, the trees would get closer, preventing him from quickening his pace. When he tripped over for the fourth time, he took a moment to remain kneeling, placing his left hand on the Forest floor.

"Hey. Umm…look, this might be really stupid, but…I'm sorry? Maybe the fire was a bad idea. I'll be more careful from now on. Ok?"

Nothing happened. But when he moved on, the path gradually became clearer, and the trees spread further apart. It was probably co-incidence…probably.

Apart from the occasional rustling of leaves as he passed by bushes and branches, the next span of the Forest was remarkably quiet. At one point, he heard the sound of spell fire in the distance, and faint flashes of light could be seen, but they seemed to be heading away from him. He wondered whether it was Mara or Reynard. For his part though, he progressed without incident, until he arrived at a small clearing.

In the middle stood a centaur, head tilted back to gaze at the stars, stunningly vivid through a gap in the trees.

Harry paused just within the shadow of a clump of ash trees, watching the centaur carefully. Was this part of the Tournament? Or simply co-incidence? Centaurs were known to live in the Forest, and they were on the whole too proud to lower themselves to be a part of a human sporting challenge. Which did not mean that the centaur might not attack Harry on sight. On the other hand, it – he? – did not appear to carry the traditional bow and arrows; Harry stepped out into the relative light.

"Good evening, Mister Potter."

"How…I mean, good evening. Sir?"

The centaur smiled absently, still gazing up at the stars. "My name is Firenze, Harry Potter. And you are wondering how I know your name, but too anxious about causing offense to ask such a sensible question. Perhaps your Headmaster Dumbledore is right, and my fellows and I should approach the school more often."

"Well, I know I'd find that fascinating, Mister Firenze."

"Just Firenze, Harry Potter. And to answer your still unspoken question, I know the names of all the Champions, and you bear the Hogwarts crest on your robes. It is not a deduction beyond the bounds of mortal intelligence."

"Ah…no. I suppose not." Harry turned his own gaze up to the stars. He had never been that fond of either Astronomy or Divination, although he had at least studied Astronomy to OWL.

"What do you see, Harry Potter?"

"Umm. Orion's Belt?"

"Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka," Firenze said. "The Three Kings, as we centaurs prefer to call them."

"I'd heard that, actually. Why is that?"

Now, Firenze actually lowered his gaze, looking at Harry with something like amused condescension. "Do you believe that centaurs would particularly care to honour a hunter?"

"I suppose that would depend on whether you see centaurs as animals or not," Harry said.

Firenze's smile seemed a lot more genuine at that. "A good answer, Harry. I have two messages for you. The first is from your Headmaster. You are likely to encounter a challenge. Titan's aid, from Athena's dread aegis, beware this most mighty sister's scaled mane and gimlet gaze!"

Harry tilted his head, considering the words. There was a meaning there, just waiting for the right bit of information to decode it. "And the second message?"

"Death is upon us, Harry Potter. The death of all things."

The centaur took a step closer to Harry, who stepped back almost unconsciously. Firenze's words had weight, almost literally; he could feel the air thickening around him. As Firenze stepped closer, starlight dappling across his face, Harry could see the centaur's eyes filmed over with white mist.

"Three tried to conquer, and three were conquered, one by one. Conquered and all but forgotten, but their path has been uncovered. Their last reign was foiled by division and disagreement, but now only unity can prevail, unity of time and grief and power."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry whispered, uncomprehending. The centaur fell silent, looking past Harry with his milky eyes. Harry turned to follow Firenze's gaze, but there was nothing there. Then came a gust of air, reeking of rot and decay. Harry gagged, raising his wand on reflex, but he still couldn't see anything. Something nudged his chest, and he gasped at a sudden, deep chill, stealing his breath from him before vanishing in an instant.

"I tell you because you are marked by death, Harry Potter," Firenze said softly. "And for that, you have my sympathies."

Still focused on the unseen presence, Harry was only dimly aware of the centaur's words. He let loose a burst of light with a flick of his wand, but nothing was revealed. He followed it with a stream of coloured water, spraying the clearing in front of him in a wide arc. Droplets hung in the air, clinging to a vague shape – there was a suggestion of wings, roughly level with Harry's head.

"What the hell is going on?"

"It is a thestral," Firenze said.

"A thestral?" Harry let loose a breath, much of his worry vanishing. Thestrals weren't dangerous, unless you were already dead. Then they would find you fair game for a meal, but for now he had nothing to worry about. He frowned, running over the riddle that Firenze had given him. He couldn't see how a thestral fitted, and besides, it wouldn't be much of a challenge, other than his inability to perceive it. As for the centaur's second message…he was going to ignore that. He was going to ignore it as hard as he possibly could. He might not be in danger, but he was thoroughly unnerved.

"One of several residing in the Forest, yes. They pull the carriages at the start and finish of the school year."

"What? I spent weeks trying to decipher the spells back in fourth year!"

The centaur chuckled. "No scholarly endeavour is ever entirely wasted. And now you have your answer."

"Yeah, great," Harry muttered. Given the circumstances, he felt this was one question he might have been willing to endure ignorance for a little longer. He turned back to face the centaur, and started to move around him. "I'm going to carry on now."

"I wish you the best of luck, Harry Potter. In this and all things."

"Thanks. It's been…" he trailed off, nothing both honest and appropriate coming to mind. "Thanks for the messages."

"Do not thank me. But do not forget them either."

"Absolutely no chance of that, believe me."

Firenze inclined his head, then reared up, and galloped back into the gloom of the Forest. Harry watched him go with a twinge of relief. Then he looked around, struck with the realisation that the thestral might still be there. He raised his wand to conjure the coloured water again, but thought better of it. Better to head on, he thought, rubbing his chest where the cold had touched him.

He started to pace up and down, deep in thought and not quite willing to delve further on without having some sort of idea about what the centaur had meant with his first message. "Titan's aid…dread aegis…gimlet gaze?" To be gimlet eyed was to have a particularly piercing stare...something metaphorical? He was going to be judged? Or maybe something more literal – a magical creature of some sort with dangerous eyes?

"Wait…" Mane could be used for hair, and scaled hair could be snake-like. Aegis was another word for a shield, and the goddess Athena had carried a shield with Medusa's head attached, Medusa being a Gorgon, which translated to dread. And of course, snakes for hair and a gaze that could turn people to stone.

Knowing what he was going to be facing was not much of a comfort. In many ways, a gorgon was less of a challenge than a chimera, but he had had a month or so to come up with a plan to deal with the chimera. He had – well, technically he supposed he had as long as he wanted, but not if he wanted to be in with a chance of winning. He ran through everything he could think of concerning gorgons. He couldn't look at it directly, scaled skin which rendered them somewhat resistant to magic, snakes for hair…but they were humanoid, broadly.

"Homenum Revelio."

He felt the spell ripple out around him, but nothing was flagged up. The problem was, he couldn't be sure whether that meant it wouldn't pick up a gorgon, or whether it was just too far away. He tapped his wand against his chin, considering. Maybe Serpens Revelio? He cast the altered spell, and was pleased to find that it seemed to work, but still nothing was revealed. Which probably meant that the gorgon was simply further away than the spell would register. He decided to walk for a bit, rather than jog.

He took ten paces, then repeated both iterations of the spell, then ten paces more. As he progressed in this manner, he kept a careful eye on his surroundings, not so much for the gorgon itself, but for signs of its passing. As he moved on after the sixth repetition of the spells, he noticed the first warning; a petrified shrew. He knelt next to it, keeping his eyes on the ground as he cast the spells again. Nothing was revealed, and after a moment's thought he applied Extra-Sensory Charms to himself, listening carefully.

Faint rustling all around him. The squeaks of tiny animals some fifteen yards to his left. The wind, barely noticeable to his normal hearing, but a veritable gale under the spell. Nothing more.

He set off once more, but slowly, inching forward in his desire not to attract attention, still unsure whether the Presence Charm would work in either form. Slowly but surely, the clearing disappeared into the dark behind him. His floating lights were more spread out now, in an effort to at least partly disguise his location, and the upshot was that without the Extra-Sensory charm he would barely have been able to see anything.

On his eighth repetition of the Presence Charm, a shiver ran up his back. Something was in range, maybe twenty feet away. He ducked into the shadow of a tree, and listened as hard as he could. The rustling of wildlife moving through the undergrowth was more pronounced now, not as if lots of tiny creatures were brushing against leaves, but because something far bigger was marking its mark on the world.

He could just about hear the hissing.

He sat there for a moment, considering his options. Reflections were traditional, but would be difficult in the dark with little preparation. As the gorgon was almost more snake than human, cold would be effective. Other than its gaze, it couldn't hurt him from a distance, but it would be deadly up close. Tactics came to mind, but he was probably better off trying to avoid it if he could.

He spent another moment splitting his attention between his boosted hearing and a repeated Presence Charm, trying to pinpoint the gorgon. It was off to the east, maybe twenty paces away, and appeared to be circling a particular spot. There was a curiously irritated twinge to its hissing; Harry wondered whether it was intelligent enough to realise that it was trapped, at least for the evening. He did not allow that thought to distract him for long, though. Making sure the hissing was still behind him, as far away as he could be while crouching to avoid being seen, he set off, moving slightly more to the west than he had been before. It was a minute or so before the hissing died away, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He carried on heading west for the moment, conscious of the fact that the enchanted stone around his neck was no longer vibrating; he would need to start heading north again soon, or risk getting lost in the Forest for the rest of the night, but he could afford to put a little more ground between him and the gorgon.

Eventually he arrived at a pond, which seemed as good a point as any to change direction. The water was rippling in the evening breeze, which was cool against his face. Turning until he could hear the stone buzzing, he broke into a brisk jog.

At which point the hissing suddenly became audible again, much closer this time.

He skidded to a halt, throwing himself into cover, and closing his eyes tight. More than one? Or had it been tracking him? He hadn't heard anything following him…but he hadn't been casting the Presence Charm either, too focused on not doing anything to attract its attention. And, he realised, his thoughts flashing to the pond behind him, he had been walking into the wind.

"Homenum Revelio," he whispered. He felt something flicker to his left, and he resisted the urge to look. "Serpens Revelio." The flicker came again, the spell still not quite sure how to identify the gorgon. Either way, it was close. Too close for him to get away without being seen. The tactics he had considered earlier ran through his head, forming into a plan.

He started to sweep his wand in a broad arc in front of him, repeating spells in his head. There was a sudden drop in temperature, and the hissing took on an angry tone. He kept repeating the spells until he could feel the chill even through his robes, then paused. The gorgon had gone quiet. It was time for stage two. First, he fumbled his glasses from his head, eyes still shut tight, and tapped his wand against the lenses. They started to expand, as if they were being stretched. He had to open his eyes to refine them, and he kept his gaze focused downward. Once he judged them large enough, he put them back to his face, and tapped his wand against the frame – it started to thicken, shaped around the contours of his face until they more closely resembled goggles than glasses. Finally, he cast a charm that would filter out everything except heat. The world around him was suddenly an icy blue, with stray spots of bright orange where heat was still retained. He took a deep breath, and stepped out from his cover to find the gorgon.

It was waiting for him.

Immediately he was in the open, it let out a piercing screech, and claws raked across his chest. He staggered back, gasping shock as burning pain spread out from the wounds – were the claws poisoned? He couldn't remember, but equally couldn't worry about that now – and raised his wand, spitting out another blast of freezing air. The gorgon screeched again, and slid forward, arms stretching out for him. He ducked away, stepping backwards towards the pond.

"Cryos!"

He could hear the ice cracking over the gorgon's scales, and he recast the spell. In an ideal world, it would have frozen the gorgon over, but it looked like he wasn't going to be that lucky.

Although the creature was much more sluggish than it would normally be, it still dodged the second spell, slithering forward and raking its claws at his head. It caught his glasses, and Harry immediately closed his eyes, leaping back again as he heard them fall to the floor. "Accio glasses!" He almost fumbled the catch, turning slightly to grab at them as they soared over his shoulder – and as he pressed them back over his eyes, the gorgon slammed into his back. The cold, heavy weight knocked him flying, and he lost his grip on his wand.

Something hot dripped onto his back, sizzling against his robes, and he stretched out his hand, praying that it would work: "Reviens, baguette!"

The walnut wand sprang back into his hand, and he jabbed it upwards. "Absonitus!"

The gorgon slid away from him, screeching again, and now it was between him and the lake – which was more or less what he had been aiming for.

"Vios!"

The gorgon was thrown into the air, and he heard a splash as it came to land in the pond. "Cryos!" Another blast of ice erupted from his wand, and there was a crackle as the pond promptly froze. The sound of the gorgon's struggles quietened, although it was still shrieking in impotent rage. Harry turned his back on the pond, wincing at the pain in his chest, and half-walked, half-stumbled further into the trees. When he judged he was a safe distance away – having been listening hard for the sound of cracking ice – he cancelled the charms on his glasses. His vision returned to normal, blinking away lingering heat light, and he took a moment to examine himself. The wound on his chest was bad, but as far as he could tell not infected; it was simply the product of sharp claws tearing through flesh, although the enchanted Tournament robes had protected him from the worst. His robes were also burnt where the gorgon had drooled on him, but it hadn't seeped through to his skin.

He would take that result with a smile.

With a weary sigh, he stood up and set off back towards Hogwarts. He had completely lost track of how long he had been in the Forest, and at this point it seemed better not to worry about that. In the end though, the rest of his trip through the Forest passed without incident. Fifteen minutes or so later, and he was over the boundary, the castle looming against the moon in front of him.

He made his way straight through the entrance hall towards the stairs, and stood in the middle of the tower, looking up. There was a better than decent chance that the stairs would be booby-trapped in some fashion. And he did need to make up some time…with a flick of his wand, he transfigured one of his buttons into a lead ball-bearing. Another flick sent it soaring up the tower, straight to the roof. He nodded, his guess confirmed, and raised his wand upright over his head.

"Ascendio!"

He rocketed upwards at dizzying speed, a vivid reminder of why he'd never tried out for the Quidditch team. The first five floors went past in the blink of an eye – and then the magic fizzled out. He rose a few feet more out of sheer momentum, then started to drop. Harry cried out in shock as the fifth floor vanished above him, and he aimed his wand at the nearest balcony in a panic. "Carpe Retractum!" An orange coil of magic flew out, wrapping around the rail; a second later, the spell thrust him towards the fourth floor. He hit the stone hard, tumbling into the wall with a thud. His glasses cracked, and his head hurt, but the wall was soothingly cool after his shock. He sat there for a moment, his eyes closed.

What had happened? The whole point of levitating the ball-bearing had been to find any traps. He considered various spells and wards that might let non-organic objects through while blocking anything organic, but nothing he could think of seemed to fit what had actually happened.

"Accio glasses." He was having to do that too often. The frames were a little loose, but a tap of his wand sorted them, along with now un-cracked glass. He stood up, still leaning against the wall for support, and paced over to the rail. This close, if there had been any spells keeping him out, there would have been some sort of giveaway, most likely a vague shimmer in the air, but there was no sign of anything. He shot sparks into the tower, but they didn't hit anything.

There came a static crackle, and he stepped back from the rail as a bolt of lightning exploded against it, sending chips of stone flying everywhere.

"Bonjour, Harry!"

"Reynard?" Harry felt a fleeting moment of confusion, followed by a sharp streak of anger. He hadn't tripped a ward. He had been hexed. "That was you? You could have killed me!"

"Non, non, you are too skilled to allow that to happen, my friend. And I would have caught you before you fell too far. But I had to slow you down, you see."

Harry ignored him in favour of casting the Presence Charm, which suggested that Reynard was on the stairs between the fifth and sixth floor. It was a good vantage point, but Harry felt he could rustle up a home ground advantage. Stepping further back from the rail, he turned to face the portraits on the wall, keeping one eye on the stairs. The nearest painting depicted two elderly wizards arguing over the magical properties of a dulcimer, but now their scowls appeared to be directed elsewhere. Harry attracted their attention with a cough, and smiled at them.

"Hi there. My name is Harry."

"We know that, boy," one of the wizards barked, tilting his chin back apparently to give Harry a better view of his beard. "The Hogwarts Champion!"

"Yeah…did you hear what the Beauxbatons Champion was saying?"

"Indeed sir! Attacking you so carelessly, the rat should be ashamed of himself!"

"My thoughts precisely, sir. I don't suppose you've got any friends on those staircases who might be willing to tell him what they think?"

The second wizard, shorter and leaner, with an elaborate coif of hair, winked at him. "We'll see what we can do, Champion." They both hurried out of their painting, and for a moment or two Harry was able to follow their progress. Then they had to duck around a corner, and Harry could see them no longer. He noticed a few other painted figures disappearing in his own portraits wake, and he sat back to wait.

All of a sudden, a series of bangs went off from the floor above, and he heard Reynard cry out. Harry darted to the stairs, running as fast as he could and readying his wand. As the stairs turned, he caught his first glimpse of Reynard, half turned towards the portraits behind him, which looked for all the world like a firework display had just been started. Harry aimed his wand, and cried out "Avis!". A dozen small birds leapt into existence, fluttering around him for the half-second it took him to send them swooping straight at Reynard. The French wizard was turning back to the stairs, the knut apparently having dropped, and some of the birds bounced off his half-formed shield, but the rest got through, pecking at him and flying in his face.

"Glisseo!"

The floor beneath Reynard's feet suddenly became icy smooth, and in his efforts to get away from the birds flocking around him, he spun on his heel and tumbled to the floor. There was a distinctive clatter of wood against stone, and Harry quickly flicked his wand once more. He was rewarded by the sight of Reynard's wand soaring over the rail towards him. He snatched it out of the air, and gave it a cursory glance. Beech, he thought, although the core was a mystery to his untrained eye.

Then he dropped it over the rail, watching it turn end over end as it fell to the floor of the entrance hall, far below them.

He took the rest of the stairs up to Reynard's level at a more leisurely pace.

The French wizard was lying there, looking rather dejected. The birds were now perched at various spots on his body, cooing softly. He nodded acknowledgement at Harry as he approached.

"That was well done. Annoying, but well done. Congratulations, my friend."

"I can't believe you tried to kill me!" Harry exclaimed, ignoring the compliment.

"I told you! I would have caught you, but I didn't need to – you are a quite talented wizard, Harry."

Harry glared at him for a long moment, tapping his wand against his palm. At the end of the day, Reynard was right; he hadn't been especially inconvenienced by it, and as far as dangerous activities went, dropping a few feet with another wizard around to catch you ranked far below going one on one with a gorgon. It boiled down to whether he believed Reynard about catching him…and he did. Maybe he was being naïve, but he did.

Harry sighed. "It was still bloody stupid."

"Ah, in a few hours we will be laughing about this over champagne!" Reynard said with a smile.

"I'm sure we will," Harry said. Then he pointed his wand at the floor. The stone tiles around Reynard began to thicken, sucking Reynard into them. The birds flapped into the air as Reynard gasped, but he was only dragged down an inch or so before Harry cancelled the spell. He looked around at the portraits, and spotted one that would be perfect. Ignoring Reynard's calls, he headed over to the portrait, of a blonde witch standing at a blank easel. She looked at him enquiringly.

"Excuse me, but can you write on that?"

She nodded, and Harry grinned. "Great. Can you write – quite large, please – Reviens, Baguette?"

She did so, and Harry turned back to Reynard, still grinning. "That's a spell I invented. It'll call your wand back to you – it's on the ground floor at the moment. If you can get it back up here, you might be able to get to the Astronomy Tower in time for second place!"

He walked off with a spring in his step, Reynard still grumbling behind him. By the time he had reached the sixth floor, the other wizard was out of hearing. He broached the seventh floor, and then paused, considering.

It seemed odd that he hadn't run into anything officially put in place to inconvenience the Champions. True, he had bypassed four floors which could have had all sorts of booby traps – and Reynard might well have taken care of them already, of course. Nonetheless, he made his way into the corridors of the seventh floor with a touch more caution.

The corridor was empty, as far as he could see, the only sign of life the brightly lit stadium visible through the windows in the distance. Presence Charms showed nothing, and his re-enhanced senses weren't picking anything up either. The first sign that anything was wrong came when he arrived back at the stairwell, on the other side of the tower to the one he had climbed up. He looked around in confusion. The stairs led onto a landing which had two entrances to the main corridor; the route to the Astronomy Tower required turning off about halfway between the two as you followed round. So where had it gone? It had been there earlier. He retraced his steps, a little slower this time, and was rewarded by the prickling awareness that something was there which shouldn't be.

He stopped, waving his wand around the wall. Once he was aware of it, it was easy to spot. A door had been placed over the entrance to the corridor, then obscured with magic. It was a subtle touch that would have been more effective on Reynard or Mara, given their lesser familiarity with the school. He opened the door, and walked through.

The door clicked shut behind him, of its own volition. Harry turned, casting an Unlocking Charm on it, but it stayed shut tight. He looked back at the corridor he had now locked himself in, his concern returning. But once more, nothing was apparently wrong, even now he was on the lookout for hidden things.

Five paces into the corridor, he realised that the sound of his feet against stone had been replaced by the squelch of someone walking by the lake on a wet day. He looked down to find a thin film of water covering the tiles. He bent to examine it, but there wasn't anything unusual about it other than its presence. He couldn't work out where it was coming from, either. He took another few steps, treading carefully, and the water started to rise. Realising what was bound to happen, Harry broke into a run, trying to reach the door to the Astronomy Tower before the water got too high. He flung an Unlocking Charm at the door, some twenty feet down the corridor, but the water glowed purple for a moment, and the spell did nothing.

Swearing, he skidded to a halt, nearly falling over into the water, which was now up to his waist. He turned round completely, scanning his surroundings frantically for any sort of solution. Aiming his wand at the nearest window, he let off a Reductor Curse, but the glass completely failed to shatter. The water was now halfway up his chest, and he was having to hold his arms up to keep them dry. Looking around again, he took a deep breath, and cast a Bubblehead Charm on himself. Then he stood still.

In seconds, the water was at his head, but the Bubblehead Charm kept his head clear of the water, allowing him to breath. Now that drowning wasn't an immediate issue, he had time to think.

The water had to be coming from somewhere, and since it was rising, the floor was the place to start. He conjured a ball of light, but the water smothered it, and he had to resort to light from his wand. Then he waded back to the door.

"Specialis Revelio."

From this side, the door lit up under the spell. It seemed that there was a stasis spell tied to the door, which had activated when it had locked behind him. There were trails of magic leading into the walls on either side, and then down to the floor. He knelt down. Repeating the Revealing Charm on the join between wall and floor showed a Refilling Charm had been cast there, tied to both the Stasis Charm on the door and a Perpetuating Charm, which would keep the water coming.

He sat down and crossed his legs while he thought, trying to ignore the water surrounding him. He might be able to Vanish the water, although there was an awful lot of it, but the spells in place would just cause the corridor to fill up again. Ideally, he needed to remove the spells before doing anything else.

"Finite Incantatem."

Under the lingering effects of the Revealing Charm, the spells flickered briefly, before settling down. Harry frowned, and tried again. It took him a moment to join the dots – the Perpetuating and Stasis Charms were interacting with each other in such a way that the Refilling charm could not be removed, merely interrupted for a second or so at most. They could be unravelled, but it would take a lot of care and attention, and no small amount of time. He could stay in the corridor theoretically until he needed food or drink, so danger wasn't the issue, but Mara was still out there, and given long enough she might be able to find another way into the Tower.

Danger…a thought struck him, something buried deep in 'Hogwarts: A History'. Hogwarts was many things, but first and foremost it was a school, and a school filled with hundreds of young witches and wizards all experimenting with magic. Over the near millennium it had existed, wards had been put in place to ensure the protection of those children. Which gave him another, quicker possibility.

Taking a deep breath, he cancelled the Bubble Head Charm. Water immediately swamped his face, and he thought the urge to cry out, forcing himself to sit as still as he could, his eyes shut tight and his lungs closed.

Seconds ticked by, the tightness in his chest growing. He'd never tried to find out how long he could hold his breath for, and under different circumstances it could have been quite interesting, but he could feel the water pressing down on him now, and the urge to just take in a great gulp of air was beginning to overwhelm him, and –

There was a long, doleful thud, and an awful grating sound. The feel of the water changed, less a steady pressure now and now more like it was rushing away. He opened his eyes slightly.

There was a vast gap in the wall of the castle, the stones just peeled back, water cascading through it into the night sky. Harry leapt to his feet, splashing down the corridor towards the door to the Astronomy Tower. It was still shut, and he cast an Unlocking Charm as he ran. Nothing happened, and he swore, then let rip with the strongest Blasting Curse he could manage. The door splintered and he threw himself through it. Safe on the other side of the doorway, he looked back into the corridor; the wall was sealing itself up again. He waited for a moment, panting, to see if the corridor would start to fill up again, but nothing happened. He sank back and started to laugh as the nervous tension released.

Hogwarts would never let one of its own drown within its walls.

When he had got his breath back, he started to climb the stairs, clinging tight to the rail and still dripping wet. The end of the Tournament was in sight.

As he stepped onto the roof of the tower, applause broke out, polite if grudging from the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons contingent, and more wildly enthusiastic from Professor Dumbledore and his parents. Grinning, he started to walk towards the Cup, glinting in the moonlight, and raising his hand to acknowledge the applause.

Which was when something hit him hard in the back, knocking him face down on the floor.

He rolled over, groaning, to see Mara hovering in the air, astride a broomstick. She was just close enough to see her smirk as she threw another spell at him; he rolled aside, scrabbling for his wand. As he raised a shield, she hopped off her broom, nodding to him.

"Potter."

"Aramov – you flew up here?"

"Da," she said with a nod, as if it was nothing worth mentioning. Perhaps, to her, it wasn't, but Harry couldn't help but look over the edge of the tower to assess the couple of hundred-foot drop. He shivered.

"Ok, got to admit, that's pretty ballsy. So…"

"Now we duel," Aramov said. Without so much as a breath, she threw another curse at him; it bounced off his shield to scatter bright light over the roof. She followed it with another, chaining the motion of that spell into yet another, both of which ricocheted off his shield, before she unleashed a stream of fire.

Shaken, still exhausted from his feet of breathlessness down below, Harry chose to run away rather than trust in his shield. Aramov harried him with a barrage of what looked like Stinging Hexes, so at least she wasn't aiming to maim or kill, but she was still cursing him faster than he could think. He parried one of them into the floor, sending up shards of stone, and he promptly Banished them straight at her. She dispatched them almost lazily, but it gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and regroup. Setting his feet, he snapped of a couple of Disarming Charms. She rolled between them, and jabbed her wand at him, lightning crackling towards him.

He got his shield up just in time, the hair on his arms standing up in protest at the electric collision. His vision cleared just in time for Aramov's next spell to hit him in the chest, throwing him to the floor again, wheezing.

Her smirk now a more predatory, satisfied smile, Aramov prowled towards him, twirling her wand between her fingers. In her expression, Harry gained a new understanding of Hermione's arguments against him entering the Tournament back in October; he was very good at magic, even though he said it himself, but Aramov was good at duelling. It was a crucial difference. On a good day, when he hadn't hiked through the Forest, fought a gorgon, another wizard and a corridor full of water, he might have been able to make a decent fist of it. Tonight though he stood no chance of beating her.

He sagged at that realistion, and Aramov must have seen it, because she let out a quiet laugh.

And that gave Harry an idea. He couldn't beat her in a duel, but he might not need to – because she could already have won the Tournament. If she had cast a spell immediately, rather than revel in his near guaranteed defeat, then he would be unconscious and she could have grabbed the Cup. She didn't even necessarily need to curse him at all, she could have simply ignored him and gone straight for the Cup. With her instincts, it would have been child's play for her to deflect his spells as she made a run for it.

Following a half-formed plan, Harry let off a weak Reductor Curse, nowhere near enough to harm her even if she hadn't deflected it, but enough to give him a chance to regain his feet. As if she sensed his renewed resolve, Aramov nodded approvingly. She swept her wand around, purple light flashing towards him, but Harry didn't bother with a shield this time, simply angling himself so that it wouldn't hit him full on while he flung out his own spell.

There was an explosion of sound right in Aramov's face even as her spell lacerated his arm, and he bit back a cry as he cast another spell. This one didn't hit her at all, but it wasn't intended to. He dodged to the left as she fired another spell at him, angrier this time. She snarled as the spell missed him, and her wand seemed to become a flamethrower, an endless stream of heat billowing forth to follow him around. Harry quickly found himself pressed up against the wall of tower, his only exit left being to step off. He didn't fancy his chances on catching himself over that drop, and he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Aramov didn't approach him this time, standing her ground and glaring.

"That hurt!"

Harry raised his eyebrow questioningly. "Seriously? Have you seen my arm?"

"Well if you give up now I will not hurt you further, Hogwarts. We both know you can't beat me."

"Sadly, you're not wrong," Harry agreed. "Fortunately for me, I don't have to beat you."

She frowned, confused.

"I just have to outthink you."

The table bearing the Triwizard Cup slammed into her back, the Animation Charm he had snuck past her while she was dizzied by the Sonic Hex turning it into his personal attack dog. She staggered, whirled on instinct to face her new opponent, and just as quickly realised her mistake. She dodged to the side as Harry's spell flew at her, tearing a hole in her cloak. Which was where her dueller's instincts, and her instinct to ensure defeat before achieving victory, worked against her; she turned to face him with a shield raised in anticipation of his next spell, but he hadn't bothered. The table had simply carried on running towards him.

Making sure to look her in the eye as he did so, he picked the Cup off the table.

He was going to remember the look on her face for years.