As November began, the first event of the Triwizard Tournament was about to commence. The long-anticipated competition drew countless eyes. Not only were the students and professors of Hogwarts buzzing with excitement, but even the Ministry of Magic treated it with utmost importance.
Barty Crouch Sr., as the main organizer, led various Ministry departments to work in close coordination, ensuring the event went smoothly. The Ministry hoped that the successful execution of the Triwizard Tournament would overshadow the fiasco of the Quidditch World Cup, so they pinned high hopes on it.
The four champions went through wand inspections, pre-event interviews, and all the formalities. The spectators grew impatient during the wait, but at last, amid thunderous applause, the tournament officially began.
The first challenge: a duel with dragons.
Cedric's performance was far superior to the one described in the original timeline. Wes Elwin's special training had not been in vain. Using clever strategy and powerful magical skill, Cedric successfully retrieved the golden egg from the dragon's nest, earning roaring cheers from the crowd.
When Harry's turn came, he too showed astonishing courage and wit. Though nervous at first, Moody's training had prepared him well. Relying on his exceptional flying ability, Harry deftly avoided the dragon's assaults and ultimately claimed the golden egg.
During the scoring, Karkaroff unexpectedly awarded Harry a high mark.
This stirred Wes Elwin's suspicions—he suspected Karkaroff might have already been replaced by Barty Crouch Jr. or perhaps was under some form of coercion. But such guesses were secondary; the most important thing was ensuring the safety of Harry and the other champions.
Soon, the final task loomed. The Quidditch pitch was transformed into the site of the last trial, a massive maze towering in the center.
Before the task began, Wes pulled Cedric aside and handed him two items.
"This pocket watch can block one fatal attack. And this…" Wes handed over a shabby-looking glove with clear reluctance.
"This was crafted by Dumbledore. If you are ever transported out of Hogwarts, don't panic. Just channel a bit of magic into it, and it will activate. We'll follow immediately using a Portkey."
Cedric accepted the items solemnly and stowed them carefully.
As he turned to leave, Wes called after him: "Cedric, don't push yourself too hard. As for Harry—"
"Professor, I'm a chosen champion," Cedric interrupted with a confident smile. "Besides, didn't you say my strength already surpasses that of most ordinary adult wizards? You should have faith in me."
With those words, Cedric departed.
The whistle blew, and the final task began.
Harry, Cedric, Krum, and Fleur entered the maze one after the other in the order of their previous scores. The stands fell into utter silence—every spectator holding their breath in anticipation.
Wes took a seat beside Dumbledore. Moody sat nearby with his eyes closed, seemingly indifferent to the match. Only Dumbledore kept constant watch on the maze, his sharp gaze fixed on its entrance.
Inside the labyrinth, the four champions set out. Krum and Fleur quickly fell behind, and it was obvious to all that they were out of contention for the championship.
The true battle for victory was now between Harry and Cedric. The Triwizard Tournament had all but turned into Hogwarts' own civil war.
As Harry and Cedric drew closer and closer to the Triwizard Cup, Dumbledore already had the Elder Wand in hand. At that moment, Moody opened his eyes.
The atmosphere in the stands grew unbearably tense. Everyone was waiting for the final result.
Harry and Cedric finally laid eyes on the Triwizard Cup. The two of them rushed toward it at the same time, and the instant they touched it, a vortex appeared, pulling them away from Hogwarts.
The Cup had been turned into a Portkey. Before the eyes of thousands, Harry and Cedric vanished.
The audience erupted into chaos.
"What happened?"
"Where did they go?"
"Who's the champion?"
Even the Ministry officials looked baffled. They had no idea what had occurred. By the rules, the moment a champion touched the Cup, the winner should be decided—but instead, the two finalists had disappeared in front of everyone.
Only Wes, Dumbledore, and Moody knew the truth.
"Too slow," Moody muttered, staring at his pocket watch. "It's been a full minute. Why hasn't the Portkey activated?"
"Patience," Dumbledore calmed him. "With the magical tools Wes gave them, Harry and Cedric's lives can be preserved."
Another five minutes passed, and people began realizing something was very wrong.
Cedric's parents anxiously questioned the Ministry officials, while the spectators grew restless, their unease spreading like wildfire.
Professor McGonagall hurried over to Dumbledore.
"Albus, what is going on?"
Her instincts told her that Dumbledore knew more than he let on.
Just as Dumbledore was about to explain, something in his robes began to burn hot. He quickly drew out the shabby glove.
"There's no time to explain, Minerva. I leave things here to you."
With that, Dumbledore vanished on the spot—taking Wes and Moody with him.
---
Meanwhile, Harry and Cedric appeared in a dark, desolate place: the Little Hangleton graveyard.
Ancient trees and barren fields encircled them. The graveyard was littered with weathered tombstones and overgrown weeds, shrouded in a heavy mist. The air reeked of decay.
Voldemort had already returned—and summoned the Death Eaters.
The two boys were surrounded. Back-to-back, already injured, they braced themselves.
The pocket watch Wes had given Cedric had absorbed one of Voldemort's deadly spells but was now ruined, lying on the ground smoking. Cedric bore a deep gash across his arm, blood pouring freely.
"Don't be afraid," Cedric reassured Harry, voice steady despite his pain. "Professor Elwin and the Headmaster will be here any moment."
Harry swallowed hard, his own arm bleeding as well.
Voldemort seemed genuinely surprised that Cedric had survived his earlier curse. Those blood-red eyes fixed on the boy as though trying to bore through his soul.
Cedric felt like prey under the gaze of a venomous serpent, every hair on his body standing on end.
"An interesting magical trinket," Voldemort sneered coldly. "But let's see how many more of my spells it can withstand."
As his words fell, his wand blazed, releasing a pale green jet of light straight toward Cedric.
The killing curse was about to strike—when, suddenly, Wes, Dumbledore, and Moody appeared.
With a flick of Wes Elwin's wand, Voldemort's curse was blasted aside.
"Professor!" Cedric cried out in relief.
"Well done, Cedric," Wes praised warmly. Then he raised his wand, pointing it at Voldemort. "Leave the rest to us."
°°°
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