Chapter Text
On the very day of the third task, another article by Rita Skeeter came out. In it, she recounted how Harry had recently dozed off during Divination class and woke up with a pain in his scar. The article included an interview with Draco Malfoy, who eloquently spoke about Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue and how Justin Finch-Fletchley was almost eaten by a snake on Harry’s command. Harry remembered that moment from their Dueling Club meeting when he and Malfoy faced off. He snorted at Malfoy’s hypocrisy because it was Malfoy himself who summoned the snake. Since then, Harry thought everyone had forgotten about that incident, but now... Upon reading those lines, Jeanne took the newspaper from Harry's hands. Her attentive gaze scanned the text of the article several times up and down.
"Do you remember how he yesterday 'radioed' like it was some sort of broadcast?" she asked.
"Oh, just drop your nonsense already!" Hermione exclaimed. "How many times do I have to remind you — these things don’t work in Hogwarts!"
"What if it was a magical device?"
"But how did she find out that your scar hurt during Divination?" Ron asked.
"The window was open. I opened it to get some air because it was stuffy in the classroom."
"But how?" Hermione puzzled. "Unless..."
At that moment, it dawned on her. She ran her fingers through her hair, then put her hand to her mouth as if speaking into a radio. A second later, she jumped up from her seat and ran off.
"Hey!" Ron shouted after her. "We have a History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Well, this is something," he muttered, turning to Harry. "That Skeeter really gets under her skin; she even forgot about the exam. What are you going to do during Binns’ exam — read?"
Harry, like all the Tournament participants, was exempt from exams. He simply sat at the back desk and searched books for new spells that could help him.
"Yeah, probably," Harry replied.
But at that moment, Professor McGonagall approached them.
"Potter, all Tournament participants are gathering in the room adjacent to the Great Hall after breakfast."
"But the competition starts in the evening!" Harry exclaimed, fearing he had mixed up the time, and dropped a piece of scrambled egg on his cloak.
"Of course, Potter. Families of the participants have gathered in the room. They are invited to watch the final challenge. And today you can spend the whole day with your family."
With these words, she walked away from the table. Harry watched her leave, his mouth agape.
"Does she really think the Dursleys will come here?" Harry asked Ron, bewildered.
"I don’t know," Ron shrugged.
"Well, I’m late for Binns. See you!"
Harry and Jeanne entered the room adjacent to the Great Hall, where an animated gathering of champions and their families awaited them. Suddenly, Harry felt his heart tighten. Families. He didn’t have a family. He glanced furtively at Jeanne. Her face seemed impassive, but he noticed how she clenched her fists. He understood that she was also alone. And strangely enough, this brought them closer together.
There was joy all around. Champions and their relatives were chatting, laughing, taking photographs. Harry felt out of place. He stood aside, watching them with sadness in his eyes. Cedric was hugging his parents, Fleur was kissing her younger sister, and Krum was talking with his father. Harry couldn’t help but envy their happiness, their family warmth.
"Harry, dear!" a familiar voice called out.
He turned around and saw Mrs. Weasley. She was walking towards him, beaming with joy. Bill was beside her. Harry felt a warm wave of gratitude wash over him. Though they weren’t his blood relatives, the Weasleys had become his true family.
Jeanne stood a little apart, clearly feeling awkward in this situation. Her confused gaze wandered around the room as if she didn’t know what to do with herself.
"How glad we are to see you!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, enveloping him in a hug. "We’ve been so worried about you!"
"It’s alright, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied with a smile. "I managed."
"We know, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes glistening. "We’re so proud of you."
"Hello, Harry," Bill said, shaking his hand. "You were brilliant."
Harry looked at Jeanne. She stood not far away, observing them with a barely noticeable sadness in her eyes. He approached her.
"Your family didn’t come?" he asked cautiously.
"My family..." Jeanne paused, choosing her words. "They are very far away."
"I’m sorry," Harry said sincerely, feeling a surge of sympathy.
Jeanne looked at him, and a flicker of gratitude appeared in her eyes.
"It’s fine," she quietly replied. "I’m used to it."
"You have us," Harry blurted out without thinking.
Jeanne smiled. For the first time in a long while, her smile was genuine.
"Thank you, Harry," she said warmly.
They spent the day together: walking around the school and its surroundings, talking, and joking. Molly and Bill joined them, sharing news from home and funny stories. Harry happily observed how Jeanne gradually relaxed in the company of the Weasleys, as if she too had become part of this big, loving family.
As the sun began to set, Mrs. Weasley firmly declared:
"Well, young Gryffindor champions, you absolutely need to get some rest before the trial."
"But, Mrs. Weasley..." Harry began.
"No objections!" she cut him off, though her eyes shone with warmth. "I’ll personally make sure you rest well and promise to wake you up early."
Despite weak protests, Molly insisted and escorted them to the Gryffindor common room. She conjured soft pillows and warm blankets, settling Harry and Jeanne comfortably in cozy armchairs by the fireplace.
"Good night, dears," Molly whispered, adjusting the blankets. "Tonight, you’ll show everyone what true Gryffindors are capable of."
After she left, Harry and Jeanne exchanged glances filled with gratitude and light amusement.
"Is she always this caring?" Jeanne asked softly with a smile.
"Always," Harry replied, feeling warmth spread in his chest. "That’s Mrs. Weasley."
Lulled by the warmth of the fireplace and the coziness of the common room, Harry and Jeanne sat silently for a while, lost in their thoughts.
"You know," Jeanne softly said, looking at the fire, "I never thought I’d find such support here at Hogwarts."
Harry turned to her, noticing the gentle reflection of the flames in her eyes.
"The Weasleys have a way of making everyone feel like part of the family," he replied with a smile. "Even if you’re originally a stranger."
Jeanne nodded, her face expressing gratitude mixed with slight melancholy.
"Harry," she suddenly said, "whatever happens tonight... I’m glad we’re in this together."
Harry felt his heart tighten. He reached out and gently squeezed Jeanne’s hand.
"Me too," he sincerely replied. "We’ll handle it. Together."
They sat like that for a while, enjoying the silence and warmth, as twilight slowly deepened outside the window.
Jeanne stole a glance at Harry, quickly averting her eyes when he noticed. Her cheeks slightly pinked, which she tried to hide by staring at the fire.
"Hey, Potter," she finally said, trying to sound indifferent. "You’re not planning to do anything stupid tonight, are you?"
Harry smiled, already accustomed to her way of showing concern.
"Don’t worry, Jeanne. I’ll be careful."
"Who said I’m worried?" she huffed, but her eyes betrayed concern for a moment. "I just don’t want you to ruin everything with your clumsiness."
Harry chuckled softly, earning a disapproving look from Jeanne, which quickly softened.
"You know," he said, "I’m glad you’re here. With you, I feel... more confident."
Jeanne sharply turned to him, her eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, she was speechless, unsure how to react to such directness.
"N-nonsense," she mumbled, looking away. "You can manage without me."
But Harry noticed the corners of her lips slightly lifting into a barely noticeable smile.
Suddenly, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and Professor McGonagall entered.
"Potter, Mademoiselle d’Arc, it’s time," she said.
Harry and Jeanne stood up, exchanging glances. Jeanne briefly placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder, quickly withdrawing it as if burned.
"Don’t mess up there, Potter," she said, but her voice carried support rather than threat.
"Don’t worry," Harry replied with a smile. "We’ll handle it together."
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes I will invite you to the Quidditch field, where the third and final challenge of the Triwizard Tournament will begin. Now, I ask all participants to follow Mr. Bagman to the stadium."
"How are you, Harry? Ready for the challenge?"
A memory flashed in his mind: the imprint of a dirty dog’s paw on a sheet of parchment. Magical formulas flashed before his eyes, the words of spells echoed in his ears, along with the kind wishes of friends and teachers, Hagrid’s happy face, and Cedric’s friendly smile. Today, everything would go well.
"We’ll patrol from the outside. If anyone gets into trouble and feels they need help, send up red sparks, and we’ll come to your aid immediately. Is that clear?"
"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final challenge of the Triwizard Tournament begins! Allow me to remind you of the current standings. In first place, tied, are Mr. Cedric Diggory, Miss Jeanne d’Arc, and Mr. Harry Potter, all from Hogwarts, each with eighty-five points!"
Cheers and applause woke the birds in the Forbidden Forest, and they rose into the dark night sky with anxious chatter.
"In second place, Mr. Viktor Krum from Durmstrang Institute, with eighty points!" More applause erupted.
"And in third place, Miss Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons Academy!"
Harry spotted Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione in the stands. They politely applauded Fleur. He waved to them, and they excitedly waved back.
"So, Harry, Jeanne, and Cedric, start on my whistle!" Bagman boomed. "Three… two… one…"
He blew the whistle sharply, and Harry and Cedric dashed into the maze.
They parted ways at the first turn. Both had no clear idea of what awaited them ahead. They crossed paths a few more times later. The first time happened when Cedric was fleeing from Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts. After warning Harry about their size and endurance, Cedric ran to the next turn and disappeared. Moments later, Jeanne whizzed past Harry, shouting something in French. Ten seconds later, Fleur raced by with burning hair and threw herself headfirst into the first hedge wall she encountered. Seeing this, Harry merely shrugged. He had learned during Hagrid’s lessons that it was best to avoid Blast-Ended Skrewts altogether. Just in case, he decided to quicken his pace, fearing that the Skrewts might have escaped their designated area.
A Dementor appeared in his path, but as soon as Harry conjured his Patronus, the opponent got tangled in the folds of its cloak. Harry had never seen a cloak hinder a Dementor, so he quickly figured it out and dispelled the Boggart with a spell. For the next ten minutes, Harry ran through dead ends. Turning in the right direction, he stumbled upon a Blast-Ended Skrewt. The creature resembled a three-meter scorpion and tried to shoot at Harry from its nozzle. Harry managed to dodge the line of fire and, on his third attempt, disabled the opponent by hitting its unprotected belly. He wandered and ran through various nooks and crannies of the maze for a long time until the darkness thickened completely around him. It hinted to him that the center was very close.
On a long, straight stretch of the path, there was a rustling again, and the light of his wand illuminated a creature he only knew from a picture in "The Monster Book of Monsters." It was a sphinx with the body of a giant lion, the head of a woman, heavy clawed paws, and a long yellow tail with a brown tuft at the end. As Harry approached the lioness-woman, she turned her mighty head towards him and stared with large almond-shaped eyes. Harry hesitantly raised his wand. But the lioness with the woman’s face didn’t crouch to leap; instead, she paced back and forth across the path, blocking the way.
"You are close to your goal," she said in a low, raspy voice. "The shortest path lies right here."
"Maybe… maybe you’ll let me pass?" Harry asked, guessing what the answer would be.
"Of course not," she replied, not stopping. "Solve my riddle, and I’ll let you pass. Solve it on the first try, and the way is clear. Fail to solve it, and I’ll attack. Say nothing, and you’ll go back the way you came."
Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach: solving riddles was Hermione’s forte. He weighed the risk. If he couldn’t solve the riddle, no big deal—he’d stay silent, and the sphinx would let him go, and he’d find another way to the Cup.
"Alright," he said. "Let me hear your riddle."
The lioness-woman settled in the middle of the path and recited this verse:
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?
"Could… could you repeat that, just a bit slower?" Harry politely requested.
The sphinx blinked, smiled enigmatically, and repeated the riddle.
"So, from the hints, it forms a creature that I’d rather die than kiss?" Harry asked.
The sphinx smiled benevolently. Harry took it as an affirmative response and began to think frantically. There were plenty of creatures he wouldn’t kiss even if his life depended on it. For example, a Blast-Ended Skrewt. But the sphinx’s riddle clearly referred to someone else. Perhaps he should start with the clues. What was the first syllable, quick? Fast, speedy… Alright, he could think about that later.
"Uh… could you repeat the next line?"
She repeated it.
"Circles of decisions…" Harry repeated. "Its lawful relation with the diameter… what nonsense. Could I get the last hint again?"
The sphinx repeated it.
"An abstractly named man…" Harry muttered. "Man, man, he… Ah! It’s 'he'!"
The sphinx smiled at him.
"So, the first syllable is fast, meaning speed… okay. Speed… he… Speed… he," Harry repeated, pacing the path. "A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss… Scorpion!"
The sphinx beamed, stood up, and stepped aside.
"Thank you!" Harry exclaimed, amazed at his own cleverness, and dashed forward. He must be near the goal, surely… his wand confirmed it, he was on the right track… If nothing scary happened, he had won…
Just a little further, and he’d reach the goal. One turn, another, a fork… And there it was! Just a little more running, and he’d claim the Cup!
A moment later, Cedric appeared ahead. Some kind of monster was hot on Cedric’s heels, but Harry couldn’t make out what it was.
"Cedric! Turn around!" Harry shouted.
Cedric turned just in time—barely avoiding the monster’s nose, he rounded the corner and evaded a collision! But as if someone tripped him, Cedric stumbled and fell flat on the ground at full speed. His wand flew out of his hand. Immediately, a huge spider emerged from around the corner and advanced toward Cedric.
Harry cast several spells at the spider, but they only irritated the creature rather than harming it.
"Get away!" Jeanne shouted behind his back and fired a spell at the spider.
She slid several meters on her high heels before stopping. At the end of her slide, she lost balance, but Cedric quickly caught her. Three voices cried out a spell in unison, and the spider collapsed to the ground. Harry and Cedric caught their breath for a few more seconds.
Harry, Cedric, and Jeanne stood before the glowing Triwizard Cup, breathing heavily after the fight with the giant spider. The maze around them fell silent, as if holding its breath in anticipation of the finale.
Jeanne, trying to regain her balance after sliding on the grass, irritably brushed off her robe. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and annoyance.
"Blasted heels," she muttered, giving a grateful glance to Cedric, who helped her stay on her feet.
Harry, still holding his wand ready, looked at his competitors.
"How are you, Cedric?" he asked with genuine concern.
Despite his fatigue, Cedric smiled. "I’m fine. And you, Harry?"
"Alive, intact, eagle," Harry replied, trying to lighten the tension.
Cedric turned to Jeanne.
"And you, d’Arc?"
Jeanne snorted, lifting her chin.
"Never better. So what, a spider. I’ve seen worse."
Her gaze darted to the Cup, and all three involuntarily exchanged glances. The air between them seemed electrified.
"So what now?" Jeanne broke the silence, her voice challenging. "Whose Cup? Which of you gentlemen is ready to yield to a lady?"
Cedric, displaying true nobility, turned to Harry.
"Take the Cup, Harry. You won; you’re closest to it. Honestly, you deserve it more than anyone."
Harry shook his head, his green eyes shining with sincerity.
"No, Cedric, you take it. You’ve helped me so many times; I’ll never forget it. Without you, I wouldn’t have made it here."
"No way!" Cedric objected, his face showing determination. "You’re younger than me, but you’ve proven yourself a true champion."
Jeanne rolled her eyes, her patience clearly wearing thin.
"You’re both driving me crazy!" she snapped. "Can we stop playing at chivalry?"
Cedric unexpectedly smirked.
"A lady’s word is law!" he said with a playful bow toward Jeanne.
"What?" Jeanne stared at him, clearly not expecting such a twist.
Harry, looking from Cedric to Jeanne, suddenly beamed.
"I have an idea. Let’s take the Cup together!" he suggested enthusiastically. "This isn’t just my victory, or yours, or hers. It’s a victory for all of Hogwarts. Our shared victory."
Jeanne snorted, but a hint of approval flickered in her eyes.
"Not something I thought I’d say, but... not a bad idea, Potter," she said, trying to suppress a smile.
Cedric nodded, his face lighting up with a broad grin.
"I agree. That would be fair. We all deserve it."
Together, they slowly approached the pedestal where the Cup stood. Its silvery glow reflected in their eyes, filled with a mixture of excitement, pride, and anticipation.
Harry took a deep breath, feeling his heart pounding.
"On the count of three, okay?" he suggested, looking at his companions.
Cedric and Jeanne nodded, their hands hovering a few centimeters above the Cup.
"One!" Harry began, his voice trembling with excitement.
"Two!" Cedric continued, his eyes shining with anticipation.
Jeanne, contrary to her usual demeanor, couldn’t suppress her excitement.
"Three!" she shouted, and their hands simultaneously touched the cold surface of the Cup.
In that instant, the world around them spun. Harry felt the familiar tug of a Portkey; his feet left the ground. His hand, firmly gripping the Cup, wouldn’t let go, as if glued to the metal. The Cup carried them somewhere through the howling wind and a kaleidoscope of colors.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Jeanne and Cedric flying alongside him. Jeanne’s face showed a mix of surprise and wariness, while Cedric looked puzzled and slightly frightened.
"What’s happening?" Cedric shouted through the wind noise.
"It’s a Portkey!" Harry answered, feeling fear rising inside him. "But where is it taking us?"
Jeanne, gritting her teeth, shouted:
"Wherever we’re going, be ready for anything!"
They continued to hurtle through space, holding tightly to the Cup and to each other, not knowing what awaited them at the end of this unexpected journey. The triumph of winning the tournament quickly gave way to anxiety in the face of the unknown [[1]].