Ravenous Plot Bunnies


Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile; which Harry returned.

"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again.

"Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag..." he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them, "... from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too - ah, yes - your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths. But they, at least, had volunteered for this.

And, in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent; their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking. Harry felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. And then - it seemed like about a second later to Harry - Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Delacour.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck. And Harry knew, by the fact the girl showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right. Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink; he just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the bluish-gray Swedish Short-Snout; the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs. Harry smiled down at it.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face. And the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mister Diggory - you're first. Just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now - Harry - could I have a quick word? Outside?"

"Err - yes," replied Harry blankly. He got up and exited the tent with Bagman, who walked him a short distance away, into the trees. Bagman then turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face.

"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?"

"What?" replied Harry. "I - no, nothing."

"Got a plan?" asked Bagman, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice still further, "you're the underdog here, Harry. Anything I can do to help..."

"No," replied Harry, so quickly he knew he had sounded rude. "No - I know what I'm going to do, thanks."

"Nobody would know, Harry," said Bagman, winking at him.

"No, I'm fine," said Harry, wondering why he kept telling people this. "I've got a plan worked out, I..."

A whistle had blown somewhere.

"Good lord, I've got to run!" said Bagman in alarm, and he hurried off.

Harry sighed and walked back to the tent. He saw Cedric emerging from it, greener than ever. Harry tried to wish him luck as he walked past, but all that came out of his mouth was a sort of hoarse grunt.

Harry went back inside to Fleur and Krum. Seconds later, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model.

It was worse than Harry could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed - yelled - gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the ground. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric's steps, around and around the tent. And Bagman's commentary made everything much, much worse. Horrible pictures formed in Harry's mind as he heard, "Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow - He's taking risks, this one! - Clever move; pity it didn't work!"

And then, after about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing; Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the golden egg.

"Very good indeed!" Bagman was shouting. "And now the marks from the judges!"

But, he didn't shout out the marks. Harry supposed the judges were holding them up and showing them to the crowd.

"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Fleur was trembling from head to foot. Harry felt more warmly toward her than he had done so far, as she left the tent with her head held high and her hand clutching her wand. He and Krum were left alone, at opposite sides of the tent, avoiding each other's gaze.

The same process started again. "Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" they could hear Bagman shouting gleefully. "Oh - nearly! Careful now - good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Ten minutes later, Harry heard the crowd erupt into applause once more. Fleur must have been successful, too. A pause, while Fleur's marks were being shown - more clapping - then, for the third time, the whistle.

"And here comes Mister Krum!" cried Bagman. Krum slouched out, leaving Harry quite alone.

He felt much more aware of his body than usual; very aware of the way his heart was pumping fast, and his fingers tingling with fear. Yet, at the same time, he seemed to be outside himself - seeing the walls of the tent - and hearing the crowd, as though from far away.

Centring himself, in a quiet voice, Harry called, "Dobby!"

With a mild pop, the elf appeared. "Oh, yes! Mister Harry Potter, sir!" the elf happily and excitedly said.

"Very daring!" Bagman was yelling, and Harry heard the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew its collective breath. "That's some nerve he's showing - and - yes, he's got the egg!"

Quickly, Harry knelt and addressed the little elf. "Dobby, listen carefully..."

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Krum had finished - it would be Harry's turn any moment.

Harry then explained exactly what he wanted the little loyal house elf to do. Dobby looked a little fearful, but also very determined. Then, very excited.

"Got that?" asked Harry.

"Oh! Yes, master Harry Potter, sir!" said the elf. "Dobby can do that!"

"Good," said Harry. "Off you go, then."

With another muted crack, Dobby disappeared.

He stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be made of marshmallow. He waited. And then he heard the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance of the tent. And now he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.

There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him; a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise. But, whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do - to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his best chance.

"And here comes Mister Potter!" yelled Bagman. "And, just what is Mister Potter going to make of our Hungarian Horntail!"

Stopping well short of the dragon, Harry stood for a few moments. He then lifted his right hand, slightly out to the side - palm up.

He then raised his left hand, just in front of his right shoulder - And snapped his fingers, directing the snap toward his right hand.

Suddenly - surprising even him - the golden egg appeared in the palm of his hand. Hesitating a moment to stare at it, he blinked. And brought the egg to in front of his chest.

The entire stadium went silent.

Harry lofted the egg a little into the air before catching it again.

Giving his shoulders a little shrug - and ignoring everyone else - he turned around to start walking back out of the enclosure.

And it was as though somebody had just turned the volume back up. For the first time, he became properly aware of the noise of the crowd, which was clearly wondering how Harry had managed such a feat.

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! How in Merlin's name did he do that?! And, wandless! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mister Potter!"

Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail, and, over at the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid hurrying to meet him, all of them waving him toward them.

He had got through the first task by being smart. He had survived. That was all that mattered.

He walked over to the professors and Hagrid. He hefted the egg a little and smirked at them. They were looking back a little shocked.

Professor McGonagall said, "Y-You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score. Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..."

"Why?" he asked. "I'm not injured."

"Yeh did it, Harry!" said Hagrid hoarsely. "Yeh did it! I don' know how - but, yeh did it!"

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn't blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand.

Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket. "Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," he growled.

"Right then, Potter; the first aid tent, please." said Professor McGonagall.

Harry walked out of the enclosure, and saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried.

"Dragons!" she said, in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside.

Harry just sighed back.

The tent was divided into cubicles; he could make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas, but Cedric didn't seem to be badly injured; he was sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry, looking for injuries. Clearly, she'd not seen what he did. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? - You're - not injured."

"No," he said.

"Now, just sit quietly for a minute - sit! And then you can go and get your score." She bustled out of the tent and he heard her go next door and say, "How does it feel now, Diggory?"

Harry didn't want to sit still: He was too full of adrenaline from his earlier nerves. He got to his feet, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before he'd reached the mouth of the tent, two people had come darting inside - Hermione, followed closely by Ron.

"Harry, how on earth did you do that? It was brilliant!" Hermione squeakily exclaimed. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear.

But Harry was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet - I - I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

It was as though the last few weeks had never happened - as though Harry were meeting Ron for the first time, right after he'd been made champion.

"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologize and suddenly he found he didn't need to hear it.

"Forget it," Harry coldly said. "Get out."

"Harry, I..." Ron tried again.

"Get out, Weasley!" sneered Harry. "You've clearly proven you're no friend of mine!"

Hermione burst into tears.

"There's nothing for you to cry about!" Harry told her, bewildered.

"You two are so stupid!" she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.

"Barking mad," said Ron, shaking his head. "Harry, c'mon; they'll be putting up your scores..."

"I told you to get out, Weasley!" snarled Harry. "I don't want to hear your excuses! I don't want you anywhere near me! We're done! Through! Understand? Get away from me!"

Picking up the golden egg - feeling more elated and free than he would have believed possible an hour ago - Harry ducked out of the tent, leaving his ex-friend standing there.


It was the night before the second task and Harry was in the library - alone.

Earlier that day, while he was sitting eating his lunch at the Gryffindor table, Hermione had been by to try and get him to - as she put it - see reason and tell her how he'd accomplished the first task. Again, Harry had told her he wouldn't tell her. She was becoming quite annoyed with him. But, that was nothing on how annoying she had become to him.

He had no intention in telling anyone how he had used a house elf to get the egg for him. He suspected - knew - that if he did, they would find a way to block house elves and their magic from the second and third task. He could not let that happen.

Anyone who had asked him how he'd done it had been met with his standard response of, "It's my secret. Please, don't push it. You'll just get upset with me when I still refuse to tell you, no matter how much you try to beg."

Even the professors tried to get him to tell them. He rebuffed them all.

Now, it was the evening before the second task. He'd solved the riddle of the egg. He knew something - or someone - was taken into the Black Lake and he had to find it, or them.

He and Dobby had already met a couple of times in secret.

With a much quieter crack, Dobby appeared alongside him at his table right at the back of the library.

"What's the word, Dobby?" Harry quietly asked.

"Your Grangy and Wheezy both were taken and put at the bottom of the lake, master Harry Potter, sir," said the elf, almost quietly.

Harry frowned and thought about it, for a moment. 'Why both?' he thought. 'It should only be one; as the clue only said '... too late, it's gone, it won't come back.' - It - that implies only one.

'Hang on,' he thought. 'If Hermione's my hostage; who's hostage would Ron be? - No one's. So, if Ron's mine; then who's hostage would Hermione be? - Krum!

'So, Ron's my hostage and Hermione's Krum's hostage. Diggory's would probably be Cho. No idea who Delacour's would be.'

Looking back down at Dobby, who was patiently waiting, Harry asked, "Still got one of those elf tracking charms on Ron you told me about?"

"Oh! Yes, master Harry Potter, sir!" replied Dobby.

"Are you able to use that, or something else, to get Ron out of the lake?" asked Harry.

"Dobby can do it and not be seen, master Harry Potter, sir!" said the elf, obviously pleased with himself.

Harry grinned back and said, "Right, then. This is what I want you to do..."


The next morning, Harry headed down to the edge of the lake.

As he walked down the lawn he saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Harry walked around the other side of the lake toward the judges, who were sitting at another gold-draped table at the water's edge.

Ten minutes later, he was around the other side and waiting on the others. It amazed him how quick you could get around such a large lake. What should have taken at least two hours to walk around to the point he was at, only took ten minutes. Magic was so cool.

As he was the first to arrive, Cedric, Fleur, and Krum soon joined him beside the judges' table.

Sitting at the table, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands. "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One - two - three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause.

Waiting until the other champions cast spells on themselves before diving into the lake - or, in Krum's case, just diving into the lake - Harry drew his wand from his pocket and summoned his broom from the opposite bank. Dobby had put it there for him, earlier.

It soared over and smacked into his hand.

Holding his wand in his hand he quickly mounted his broom and rode out over middle of the lake, and felt it tug him slightly off course. Dobby was making corrections to the direction the broom flew.

Dobby had earlier placed a small floating red ball directly over the spot where the hostages were being kept. Harry, finally seeing it with his seeker's eyes, flew over it and brought the broom to a hover. He then banished the ball.

Because he knew he was being watched by the audience and the judges, Harry made a great show of making broad gestures with his wand, before finally pointing it straight down. While it looked like Harry was casting spells; that was Dobby's cue, who was watching, hidden, on the bank.

"Accio Ron Weasley!" Harry cast, straight down. He pumped his magic into the cast and hoped he had his wand pointed in the right direction.

A long few seconds later, suddenly Ron shot up out of the water, right next to Harry, like a broaching whale. Using his seeker's reflexes to good effect, Harry quickly grabbed him and slung him, waist down, over his broom handle before he could fall back into the water. Ron started coughing and spluttering; and Harry had to stop him from falling back off again.

"Stay still, Weasley!" he snapped at the boy.

"H - Harry?" spluttered Ron. "What the hell?"

"Shut up, be quiet and stay still," Harry snapped. "I just rescued you from the bottom of the lake, and I'm taking you back to the shore."

Bending over the back of the boy, Harry grabbed the handle of the broom and quickly guided it back to the judges stand.

"Harry, I..." tried the red head before Harry interrupted.

"Stay still, damn it!" snarled Harry. "You'll have us both off if you don't quit it!"

As soon as he was in front of the judges stand, Harry turfed Weasley off onto the ground.

"Done!" Harry stated firmly.

Before anyone could say anything, he then quickly spun the broom about again and accelerated it to it's top speed back out across the lake jinking back and forth - in case someone tried to Accio him back. He rode it right to the front doors of the castle.

'Screw the points!' he thought.


Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Knowing it was already a maze, and that the Tri-Wizard Cup was the 'finish line' in the middle of the maze, all Harry had to do was attempt the challenge and his 'contract' with the Goblet of Fire was at an end. But, did he just want to just attempt it; or, win it?

He thought winning it would be a great way to rub it in the faces of everyone; even from well back in last place.

So, he and Dobby had planned what they were going to do.

Harry rose. Some of the Gryffindors along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys and Hermione, except Ron, all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

"Feeling all right. Harry?" Bagman asked as they went down the stone steps onto the grounds. "Confident?"

"I'm okay," said Harry. It was sort of true; but he kept running over all the hexes and spells he had been practicing in his mind as they walked, and the knowledge that he could remember them all, and the plan, made him feel better.

They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable.

A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them - the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill. The air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

"We're going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," said Professor McGonagall to the champions. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The champions nodded.

"Off you go, then!" said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers.

"Good luck, 'Arry," Hagrid whispered, and the four of them walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, "Sonorus," and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place, with eighty-five points - Mister Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, with eighty points - Mister Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" More applause. "In third place, with seventy five points - Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!" More applause. "And in fourth place - Mister Harry Potter, of Hogwarts School!" And Harry received some applause.

Harry could just make out Missus Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione applauding Fleur politely, halfway up the stands.

"So - on my whistle, Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three - two - one..."

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Cedric hurried forward into the maze.

Harry watched as Bagman was showing the time above his wand with a Tempus Charm.

Just shy of the five minute mark, Bagman looked up and said to Krum, "Alright, Mister Krum. On my whistle. Three - two - one..."

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Krum hurried forward into the maze.

Five minutes later and another short blast on the whistle from Bagman; and Fleur entered the maze.

Looking at Harry, Bagman said, "A bit of a wait now, Mister Potter."

Harry just slightly smiled and shrugged his shoulders back.

Finally, Bagman alerted him it was time, and blew his whistle. Harry lightly jogged into the maze.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path. And, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment he entered the maze. He pulled out his wand, muttered, "Lumos."

After about fifty yards, he reached a fork. He headed left.

Satisfied he was far enough inside the maze to not be heard or observed, he called Dobby.

With a flat light crack, Dobby appeared next to him.

"Ready," said Harry.

Dobby grabbed him by his off-hand and, with another flat crack, Dobby apparated him to a small clearing in the middle of the maze.

Standing only a few feet away was the Tri-Wizard Tournament Cup, standing on what looked like a hip-height squared-off hedge.

"Be careful, master Harry Potter, sir," said Dobby. "It is a portkey."

Harry looked at it and frowned.

"Do you know where to?" he asked the elf.

"No, master Harry Potter, sir," replied Dobby. "But there is one portkey charm laid on top of another. If you touch it, it will take you. If you touch it again, it will take you somewhere else."

"Why would someone do that?" he muttered, not expecting an answer.

"Two different wizards made it a portkey, master Harry Potter, sir," replied Dobby.

Harry frowned and scratched the back of his head. "I don't like this," he muttered.

Thinking a bit he said, "Dobby can you disillusion yourself and come with me?"

"Of course, master Harry Potter, sir," replied the elf, happily.

The little elf disappeared and Harry felt it grab his robes. With his wand at the ready in his right hand, Harry reached out with his left and grabbed the Cup.

He felt the hook at his navel of a portkey, and disappeared.


With his 'usual' landing method of a portkey, Harry landed sprawled on the ground. He'd dropped the Cup but still held his wand.

Looking around, he quietly called, "Dobby?"

"Here, master Harry Potter, sir," replied Dobby. Harry felt him tap him on his hip as he climbed back to his feet.

"Know where we are?" Harry quietly asked.

A few moments later, Dobby replied, "In the graveyard of Little Hangleton, master Harry Potter, sir."

"Not at the school?" he asked.

"Many, many miles away, sir," replied Dobby.

"Well, this isn't bloody right," he muttered. "There's no way it's part of the task. They wouldn't portkey us away from the school like that."

Carefully and quietly moving to a headstone, Harry crouched behind it and continued looking around. He spotted someone walking towards him carrying something in his arms. He watched whoever it is, and waited.

"I'm not taking any chances," he muttered, after thinking about it for a bit.

"Stupefy!" he cried, as he cast straight at the person walking towards him. 'If nothing else, that'll set off the Underaged Magic Use alerts at the Ministry,' he thought.

The cast hit what looked like a bundle in the arms of whoever it was that was walking towards him.

The person uttered a cry of exclamation and dropped the bundle.

'Whoops! Missed,' thought Harry. "Stupefy!" he cried again, as the other person drew what was clearly a wand from within their robes.

This time the person dropped to ground.

With his wand at the ready to cast again, if needed, Harry carefully hurried over to the person and his bundle, looking around for other dangers as he moved.

When he was close enough to see clearly who it was he had tagged, he looked down at the unconscious face of Peter Pettigrew.

'Pettigrew!' he quietly exclaimed. 'Well, well. We meet again.'

Wondering what was keeping the aurors or his ministry approved howler from that Mafalda Hopkirk lady, Harry moved to have a look at the bundle Pettigrew was carrying.

Using his offhand, Harry flicked back the folds of material. And found himself looking into the unconscious face of the ugliest baby he'd ever seen. So ugly, it simply couldn't have been a baby.

'Riddle!' he muttered.

Stepping back a bit, for the third time, he cast the Stunner as powerfully as he could. This time, right into the face of that - thing.

He quickly flipped Pettigrew onto his back and levitated the thing in the robes onto the rat's chest. And, using the robes to manoeuvre the small body, made sure it was lying flat, chest-to-chest, with Pettigrew.

"Dobby, can you levitate Pettigrew for me?" he quietly asked.

"Oh, yes, master Harry Potter, sir" squeaked Dobby.

Pettigrew, with the thing on his chest, slowly rose into the air about four feet.

With a soft cry of "Incarcerous!" ropes flew from Harry's wand to bind the two together.

He then used the loose robes and shoved material into both mouths; and used a sticking charm to make sure they stayed there.

"Alright, Dobby," said Harry, stepping back again. "Bring them over next to the Cup, for me, will you? Let's see where the Cup takes us next."

"Yes, master Harry Potter, sir" replied Dobby, as the levitated bundle began to drift the couple dozen feet to where the Cup still lay. Harry bent down and picked up the wand Pettigrew had in his hand and dropped when he was stunned. He dropped the wand into his pocket. And started to walk back.

Once within reach of the Cup, Harry said, "Alright, grab hold tight, Dobby. And let's see where next." Grabbing a fistful of rope, Harry reached out with his other hand and grabbed the Cup.

Again, he felt the tug at the navel of an activated portkey, and they were off.


Again, landing awkwardly, Harry found himself on a wooden floor surface. He let go of his bundle and quickly made to rise to a crouch to look around.

Suddenly, loud music started up and he heard people. On his knees, he spun around and, with a cry, cast, "Stupefy!" right at the centre of where the noise came from. The spell hit the cone of a big bass tuba and ricochetted off with a loud 'clang!'.

Realising what he'd just done, he withheld firing off any more curses. The band and crowd immediately went silent in shock.

"Mister Potter!" he heard someone cry out off to his left. He spun to the sound with his wand at the ready, and a curse on his lips.

It was the Minister, standing there, looking back at him in shock.

Glaring at the man for just a moment, Harry turned back to the stands of spectators and the band before him. He could see no other threats, and realised he was back at the start of the maze on a small dais.

Thinking fast, he stuck the tip of his wand to his throat and cast, "Sonorus! I need aurors here, right now!" He then stuck his foot on the back of the Riddle-baby on the floor next to him and said, with his wand still at his throat, "I've captured the Death Eater, Peter Pettigrew; and what looks like a deformed version of a miniature Voldemort. I need aurors here, now!" And lowered his wand to the ready, still looking around for threats.