After waiting patiently for nearly an hour...
Harry kept worrying that Professor Moody might suddenly burst out of the maze to announce that Jon had already claimed the Triwizard Cup.
Thankfully, no such disappointment occurred. It seemed reaching the Triwizard Cup was no simple feat.
Time ticked by, second by second...
Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour entered the maze one after the other.
Then, Harry heard Mr. Bagman call his name.
He hurried along the tall hedges, jogging into the maze!
...
The maze was pitch-black, the paths barely visible.
Harry cast Lumos, and after only a short distance, he came across a troll.
But it seemed to have been knocked unconscious by something. Harry quickly skirted around it... He had no desire to wake a troll; back in first year, he'd learned just how much trouble they could cause.
It seemed that entering the maze later had its advantages... many of the dangers had already been cleared out.
A little further on, his foot landed on something dark and sticky.
Peering closer, he realized it was the corpse of a Dementor... ripped clean in half at the waist by something. The sight made Harry's stomach clench.
He hurried away from it.
...
Harry pressed onward, moving as quickly and quietly as possible, wand raised, ears alert for the slightest sound.
Left turn... right turn... another left... Only to find a dead end. He cast the Four-Point Spell and realized he had gone too far east.
Backtracking westward, Harry suddenly spotted two bursts of red sparks shooting into the sky.
They weren't far from his position... Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour?
Had they both been eliminated?
A surge of excitement shot through Harry... This meant Hogwarts had a strong chance of claiming the Triwizard Cup!
But where was Jon...? Perhaps he was already close to the Cup!
Grateful though he was to Jon for the Second Task, Harry wasn't about to surrender without a fight.
He straightened his shoulders, following the direction of the Four-Point Spell deeper into the maze.
This was their duel!
...
For ten minutes he encountered nothing, only dead ends, even doubling back twice on the same wrong turn. Finally, he found a new path and broke into a jog.
Harry considered himself luck. Several dangerous creatures had appeared along the way, but all of them had already been taken down by others!
He only needed to move carefully, making as little noise as possible.
At one point he faced a Sphinx, which posed a riddle... Luckily, he managed to answer correctly and passed.
Next was Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry had never imagined they could grow so huge.
Its shell was tougher than he imagined, deflecting both Stupefy and Protego. Fortunately, his second Stupefy struck its abdomen, finally bringing it down.
Even so, Harry ended up filthy and limping badly.
The mist around him grew darker and darker...
This only drove him forward—it meant the Triwizard Cup was very close.
But... Jon had entered an hour earlier. Why wasn't he here yet...? Harry frowned.
Maybe something attacked him... Harry thought uneasily.
...
Taking another path, Harry's breathing suddenly quickened.
He saw it—the trophy!
The Triwizard Cup gleamed on a pedestal a hundred yards away.
Harry quickened his pace, though his limp made real speed impossible.
In his mind, it was as though the Mirror of Erised appeared... He saw himself lifting the Cup, the whole school cheering, Cho smiling at him...
Then he froze.
Less than a foot away from theTriwizard Cup.
Someone lay on the ground—Jon Hart, unconscious, his body marked with wounds.
Around the Cup were the corpses of several giant spiders.
Acromantulas. Harry had faced them back in his second year—huge, vicious creatures.
There was no doubt these were part of Hagrid's "trial."
All three were fully grown, their eight glistening black eyes and sharp pincers enough to make Harry's skin crawl.
He now understood why his path to the Cup had been so easy.
His eyes darted between the gleaming cup and Jon's still body.
Harry's whole body trembled..
...
Yes!
Just one more step and he would be champion of the Triwizard Tournament!
But was that fair to Jon?
At Hogwarts, Harry rarely found classmates he truly admired. Jon was one of the few. Though younger by a year, his performance in both the First and Second Tasks had left Harry deeply impressed.
Especially in the Second Task—even as a rival, Jon had given him the Gillyweed. Without him, Harry would have been humiliated in front of the entire school...
And now, Jon had fought ahead, clearing all obstacles—
Only to collapse one step from the Cup.
If Harry simply lifted it now, wouldn't that be unbearably unfair?
His sense of dignity would never allow such disgrace.
But could he really give up this honor?
Harry bit his lip. The truth was, he didn't want to. The glory was right there—he could almost taste it.
Then he suddenly remembered what Jon had said after the Second Task: "If the two of us lift the Triwizard Cup together, it will be double the glory for Hogwarts!"
Harry instantly made his choice—the fairest decision he could make.
He slowly helped Jon up, took one of his hands, and reached out with his own.
Together, they gripped the handles of the Triwizard Cup!
At once, Harry felt a tug at his navel.
His feet lifted off the ground, the Cup dragging him forward through howling wind and swirling colors. Jon Hart was right beside him.
...
They landed in a dark, overgrown graveyard.
The air was chillingly still.
A figure approached, step by step, weaving between the graves. He was short, cloaked and hooded, his face hidden. In his arms, he carried something that looked like a child.
Jon lay motionless beside Harry, still unconscious from his injuries.
The figure stopped before a towering marble headstone, only six feet away.
Harry's scar exploded with pain, sharper than anything he had ever known.
His wand slipped from his grasp. Clutching his face, he dropped to his knees; darkness filled his vision, his head felt like it would burst.
"Wormtail, get rid of the nuisance!" came a shrill, sinister voice—from the "child."
A piercing cry split the night.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Blinding green light seared through Harry's eyelids. He heard something heavy crash beside him.
The pain in his scar reached its peak, nausea twisting in his stomach...
He knew his worst fear might have come true.
When he opened his eyes, he saw—
Jon Hart sprawled on the ground, his arms and legs splayed lifelessly.
He was dead!