The Maze
Everyone watched the crystal balls in silence, each displaying a different champion. The tension was palpable. Every image projected from within the maze was followed with restrained anticipation.
Harry was the first to enter. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the entrance shut behind him with a muffled boom that even cut off the outside sounds. A thick darkness enveloped him, limiting his vision to just a few meters ahead.
Without hesitation, he drew his wand.
"Lumos," he whispered.
The dim light illuminated his immediate surroundings. Then, with his other hand, he summoned a strange runic ring that responded instantly, projecting a bright blue trail that snaked into the depths of the maze. Without delay, Harry began to follow the trail, firm and determined.
In the stands, the judges frowned upon seeing the spell. Murmurs of indignation and confusion began to rise.
"Dumbledore!" Karkaroff growled with an icy glare. "What kind of spell is that? Is it guiding Potter straight to the cup?"
"So it seems," Dumbledore replied calmly, without losing his composure.
"That's cheating!" Madame Maxime exclaimed immediately.
Karkaroff stood up, beside himself.
"How can this be allowed!? If he can see the path, the maze loses all purpose!"
"There is no rule prohibiting the use of spells to locate the objective," Ludo Bagman quickly interjected, though he couldn't hide the excitement in his eyes. Seeing Harry take the lead so effortlessly thrilled him. After all, he had bet everything on him.
"I demand an immediate restructuring of the tournament!" Karkaroff bellowed.
"The competition has already begun," Ludo responded without missing a beat. "And there's no rule against the spell he used."
The judges were visibly unsettled when it was Cedric's turn. To the surprise"and frustration"of Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, Cedric repeated the exact same steps: light, blue trail... and then moved forward quickly, though not hurriedly. His pace seemed calculated.
"Hogwarts is cheating!" Karkaroff shouted furiously, glaring at Dumbledore as if he were his worst enemy.
"Don't worry, Mr. Karkaroff," Cornelius Fudge said with an opportunistic smile. "The Ministry will investigate any possible conspiracy."
Although he owed his position to Dumbledore, Fudge never missed a chance to seek a way to escape his shadow. This might just be the opportunity he had long awaited.
When it was Krum's turn, and he did the same as the previous two, Karkaroff fell into a tense silence. Even Madame Maxime, who had previously protested fervently, chose to remain quiet.
Their eyes then turned to Einar, who stood next to Hermione and Neville. They said nothing, but were beginning to understand.
Fleur was the last to enter. When the wall closed behind her, she didn't raise her wand like the others. Instead, she lifted both hands, and an enchanted glow ran over her body.
"Oakflesh..." Einar murmured with a satisfied smile.
He was the only one who knew what spell she had cast: one that hardened the skin, granting resistance against cuts and blows. A subtle but powerful enchantment. For Fleur, it was also a cosmetic wonder"what woman wouldn't want to emerge unscathed and flawless?
Then she created a floating orb of light that generously illuminated her surroundings, before casting the same path-marking spell. She drew her wand and began to run.
The headmasters understood immediately: Einar had given those spells to all the champions. Though Fleur seemed to have some extras... no one said a word.
Einar watched the crystal balls with a slight smile. Each champion moved at a different pace, but there was a shared logic behind it. They were counting.
When Fleur entered, they all began running at the same time.
He understood instantly: this wasn't an unfair competition, but an honest race. They had waited until everyone had equal conditions. It was no longer a maze to solve... it was a race against fate, with deadly obstacles along the way.
The routes were different, but the distance to the cup was practically the same. The fastest would win... if they survived.
Harry was the first to encounter something unexpected.
A tug pulled at his pants. Quickly, he looked down, wand raised.
And then he saw it.
"Viir?"
A small black dragon looked up at him with gleaming eyes, clinging to his leg. It shouldn't be there.
Viir. The name he had given it in honor of Durnehviir, the undead dragon who had bestowed his blessing upon him.
"What are you doing here? Hermione was supposed to be taking care of you..." he murmured as he picked him up.
The little dragon lazily wagged its tail and, without waiting for instructions, slipped inside his clothes as if that were its rightful place.
Harry sighed, unsure what to do. In the end, he continued on, Viir hidden within his robes.
Outside the maze, Hermione stared in astonishment at the orb showing Harry... then looked down at what she held in her arms: a simple black blanket. Empty.
"When did...?" she whispered, surprised.
"It seems he cares about his companion," Einar commented with a soft smile.
The others hadn't clearly seen what Harry had picked up. Just a black shadow vanishing into his clothes. But had they realized it was a dragon, chaos would have erupted instantly.
Only Einar and those who knew Viir understood what had happened.
"What was that?" Fudge asked with a frown.
"Seems like a pet has escaped," Dumbledore replied calmly. "No problem."
If the Ministry of Magic were to discover the existence of that new species of dragon"now bonded with Harry and Neville"and its magical potential, just as Einar had warned, there was no doubt they would try every means to take them away.
That would place them all in a dangerous position... and make Einar a direct enemy of the system. And it wasn't time for that yet.
Cornelius Fudge merely frowned in discomfort as the crowd kept their eyes fixed on the crystal spheres, watching the champions race through the maze, dodging traps that appeared unexpectedly.
It wasn't until Viktor Krum came across a group of blast-tailed skrewts that the audience finally began to cheer with excitement. At last, a battle...
But the excitement vanished as quickly as it came. Viktor simply hurled a massive ball of water, dousing their glowing tails and avoiding the conflict. Then he continued running as if nothing had happened.
Einar simply shook his head from his seat in the stands. He found it impressive how those creatures raised by Hagrid seemed to grow faster than the dragons from his own world.
Meanwhile, Harry had briefly crossed paths with Cedric. They exchanged quick words, shared useful information… and went their separate ways.
But as Harry turned a corner, he came to a dead stop.
A dementor awaited him at the end of the corridor. It wasn't floating, it wasn't gliding… it was walking.
The creature stood nearly three meters tall. Its face was still hidden beneath a tattered black hood. Rotten hands, covered in pus and sores, dangled from its sleeves, stretching blindly forward as if searching for prey.
Harry swallowed hard, raised his wand firmly, and shouted:
"Expecto Patronum!"
A majestic silver stag burst forth in a flash of light, charging the dementor with force.
The creature tripped awkwardly on its own robes, falling flat on its back.
The audience fell into shocked silence… and then burst into laughter.
A dementor falling so ridiculously was as terrifying as it was hilarious.
But Harry wasn't done.
"Riddikulus!"
With that second spell, the grotesque being vanished like smoke, revealing its true nature: a boggart.
Elsewhere in the maze, Fleur was running nonstop. A swarm of magical spiders had forced her to retreat, only for her to discover more descending from the top of a giant hedge. She was surrounded.
She shouted spell after spell, trying to repel them, freeze them, stun them. Several were thrown back, others lost legs, a few fell unconscious.
But it was useless. It was as if all the spiders in the damn maze had been called to her by some magical scent.
Her skin, reinforced by the Barkskin Spell, was starting to lose its effect. Bleeding scratches already marked her body.
She cast a healing spell, trembling, while continuing to back away. One of the spiders rammed into her, and her wand went flying.
Desperate, she began to channel elemental magic directly from her hands. She froze the air around her, halting several spiders. Thank Merlin Einar had given her those magic tomes.
She tried casting a calming spell… and for a moment, it worked. But only for a moment.
As if something inside her provoked them, the spiders lunged at her again.
Seeing her wand on the ground, she dove for it, rolled through the mud, recovered it, and shot a series of red sparks into the sky.
She curled up on the ground, in a fetal position, continuing to reinforce her skin and heal what she could. Her clothes were in tatters, barely covering the essentials. She had to hold on. Just a bit longer. Just a bit more…
And then… the world trembled.
The maze shook with a deep, muffled, ancient roar. The spiders froze. Their legs trembled. Their bodies tensed.
And then… they fled.
In terror. As if staying a second longer would mean death.
Too late.
A blue lightning bolt cut through the air.
A visceral, savage explosion reduced the nearest creatures to nothing more than scattered viscera.
Fleur looked up.
A massive hole had been opened in one of the maze walls, as if an unstoppable force had sliced through it like butter.
Standing in the middle of the breach… was Einar.
With a two-handed sword resting on his shoulder.
It was no ordinary sword: it was the Stalhrim Greatsword, forged from a mineral as ancient and dense as the eternal ice of Solstheim. A jewel from another world. Blue, radiant, solid as a mountain.
His silhouette was imposing. The wind whipped his black cloak as his white hair flowed like it burned with its own will.
His presence silenced everything.
"Are you alright?" he asked in a deep voice, lowering the greatsword, still stained with blood and spider venom.
"Y-yes… Thank you for coming to rescue me," Fleur whispered, her cheeks burning as she tried to stand with dignity.
Einar tossed her a small enchanted stone, which struck the crystal orb embedded in her wand's handle, shattering it instantly. The transmission was cut.
Then, without a word, he took off his cloak and placed it over her head.
Fleur blinked, confused… until she looked down and noticed her torn clothes, barely clinging to the necessary parts of her body.
Her face turned crimson.
From the stands, the audience began to protest the interrupted broadcast, unaware of what was truly happening. But their complaints died down when they saw the massive hole in the maze… and the figure of Einar emerging from it.
Fleur followed him, wrapped in his cloak, not daring to lift her gaze. Her face looked like it was on fire with shame.
Hermione watched them intently, saying nothing, but her lips seemed to form a single word. "Beach."
"Look! Harry and Cedric are in front of the cup!" Neville shouted, immediately drawing everyone's attention.
Einar turned his gaze toward the crystal orb.
Both boys stood side by side, their hands inches from the trophy. They looked at each other. Nodded.
And touched it at the same time.
Fireworks, celebratory music, and cheers began to erupt… but no one appeared.
Seconds passed. One, then two, then ten. But they didn't come back.
The cup hadn't returned anyone.
And on the crystal orb… the two champions were no longer in the maze. They were somewhere else. Just as dark.
Einar frowned. The atmosphere shifted.
His cloak whipped violently in the wind.
And his clothes… began to transform.