The day of the Third Task of the Tournament finally arrived. Salazar sighed; all the madness would end tonight. He and his group had agreed on their plan: Salazar would face the third of the tasks, and the rest of the group, which now included Hermione and Ginny, would be in charge of unmasking Crouch.
Half an hour before the task began, Godric approached him. Salazar could see that his friend was worried, or at least more tense than usual. He moved away from where the other champions were so they could talk privately. Since only champions were supposed to be in the tent, he assumed something serious was happening and he didn't want the real participants to get involved. He was greatly surprised when Godric handed him his ruby-encrusted sword, the very sword he had used to kill the Basilisk years ago.
"What's this for?" Salazar asked his friend. He knew Godric wouldn't give up his sword unless it was absolutely necessary, and at that moment, he felt no immediate danger.
"Rowena had a feeling," Godric said simply. "Take good care of it. I must get back to my post."
"Understood."
Salazar discreetly tucked the sword into his belt, ensuring no one would know he was carrying it unless he chose to reveal it. It would be a useful trump card in a society that had forgotten some important things while boasting of its own progress. He would use anything to his advantage.
The judges came to collect them and remind them what they were looking for inside the labyrinth: the Triwizard Cup, a cup that would remain at the winning school. In Salazar's opinion, the only thing this tournament offered was a chance to reach the next step as a wizard. The rest was a lure for idiots. Based on their standings, Salazar and Cedric would be the first to enter, as they were tied for first place. They would be followed by Krum, and then Delacour, both entering at two-minute intervals. It was a tournament, in short, designed to favour those at the top, though not so much as to completely remove the possibilities for those at the bottom of the rankings.
Salazar entered the labyrinth and took a left at the first fork. He walked calmly, orienting himself with his wand and examining each of the branching paths he encountered. He heard the signal for Krum to enter, and two minutes later, the signal for Delacour. They were all inside the labyrinth now. Was he worried? Not in the slightest. It wasn't going to change his plan to take the task slowly and pay attention to the details.
After some time traversing the paths inside the maze, he frowned. He was supposed to be encountering traps and obstacles along these paths, yet there was no sign of any of them. That was suspicious; very suspicious. He became more and more convinced that the absence of traps and surprises was a trap in itself, and one not designed by the labyrinth or by those who had planned the tournament and the task.
"Damn," he muttered. "Until we figure this out, everyone inside the labyrinth is in danger." He had to get them to safety. Cedric was a student at his school and the other two, being visitors, were his responsibility.
He heard a high-pitched scream and stopped in his tracks, looking in several directions, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. Only that one scream, nothing more. Without recasting the orientation spell, he changed its purpose, directing his wand to lead him to Fleur Delacour. The wand indicated that the nearest path was a corridor between hedges, a corridor filled with a strange fog. He stared at the fog and examined it. It was a fog that created a spatial inversion, leaving a person trapped. He didn't think the French champion would have fallen for such a simple trick, unless she hadn't been paying attention. There were two options: undo the enchantment or go through the area, fall victim to it, and break free, which would break the enchantment. The second option was the quickest in this case. He took a step forward and immediately felt the phenomenon of spatial inversion. It was like being hung from the sky with the Quidditch pitch's grass as the ceiling. Without much thought, he dared to move in that state and was instantly freed from the spell, falling to the ground and rolling for a few feet. Then he got up and continued on his way, quickening his pace to reach Fleur's position as soon as possible. He passed through where the fog had been, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw how some of the perpendicular walls he had just passed joined together, forming new paths and hiding others. At the end of a long path, he found Fleur unconscious on the ground with a bleeding bump on her head. He quickly examined her, and saw she would be fine. Salazar raised his wand and conjured red sparks to summon help for her. Then he continued down the first open path he found.
He cast the location spell again. He had moved too far west of his intended destination and had to correct his trajectory. He just had to find the right path again. As he walked, he realised that something much more serious was happening here than simply a sinister purpose they had yet to uncover within this tournament. Delacour had been attacked; the question of why could be answered later. Now, the important thing was to end this task as quickly as possible.
He heard a rustling behind him and turned sharply, coming face-to-face with Viktor Krum. The boy had a strange glint in his eyes; he seemed to be under a spell. The same glassy look he had seen in Bartemius Crouch Snr weeks ago. Krum was under the Imperius Curse. Salazar prepared to defend himself, but no attack came. Krum just turned and moved on.
"Strange," Salazar murmured to himself. What if this was Barty Crouch Jnr's doing? He couldn't let it continue. Now, he didn't think anything was a coincidence. "Stupefy," he said, pointing his wand at Krum's back, knocking him unconscious. He then shot red sparks into the air to have him removed from the labyrinth and continued on his way.
He focused on his wand and the way forward, quickening his pace. He wanted to get there as soon as possible so nothing would happen to Cedric, if it hadn't already. He was certain that Crouch's hand was behind the suffering of the two previous champions. There had been enough damage throughout the tournament to indulge him any further. He now wanted to find the blasted Cup and end this whole thing.
He came face-to-face with a sphinx, who smiled and assured him that this was the fastest way, but he had to solve a riddle. Salazar listened to the riddle calmly: a set of verses that had nothing to do with the answer, except that it was all a wordplay.
"The spider," he said. It was a simple answer if one stopped to think calmly, rather than focusing on the ways the sphinx could kill you if you got it wrong.
The sphinx stepped aside, and Salazar took the path she had been blocking. He could see the Cup in the centre of the clearing. He had arrived. He started walking towards it. As he did, he saw Cedric trapped by vines on one of the walls. This was a common trap, but Cedric was being suffocated, he was being killed. He wasn't going to allow that. He pointed his wand at the vines, and Cedric looked at him in horror.
"Reducto."
Salazar's spell pulverised the vines, freeing Cedric, who fell to the ground, panting. Their eyes met. Salazar couldn't quite interpret the look on Cedric's face, but it seemed grateful. They both stared at the Cup. They began to run towards it at the same time. Cedric was taller, so his stride was longer; Salazar was faster. Salazar had a bad feeling but he couldn't attack Cedric to keep him from the Cup. They were just a few feet away, both still running. They both touched the Cup at the same time.
Salazar felt a jolt—the Cup was a Portkey. A swirl of colours enveloped him. He could see Cedric next to him, who looked bewildered. Finally, they landed in a graveyard.
"Did you know the Cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked.
"No," Salazar frowned. "I don't like this at all."
He knew there was no mention in the history of the Tournament of the tasks taking place away from the host school.
Salazar surveyed the place. They were tombs, all with very old dates. It looked like the oldest part of the cemetery. One of the names on the tombstones caught his attention and horrified him in equal measure: "Riddle". He didn't believe in coincidences. He heard a gasp. He narrowed his gaze, looking at a stone cauldron in the clearing and a man approaching with a bundle in his arms.
"Cedric, we must get back to the Portkey," he whispered firmly.
There wasn't much time to react. A voice from the bundle told the man to "kill the other." It was Voldemort's voice, a voice Salazar had heard three years ago, and it made his hair stand on end. Salazar watched as the man pointed at Cedric and uttered the Killing Curse. Salazar reacted swiftly. He only had a few seconds to save Cedric, and getting in the way of the curse was not an option. He slyly pointed his wand at Cedric and cast Petrificus Totalus, just seconds before the curse reached him. The man who had cast it hadn't even looked; he was so sure it wouldn't miss. This action prevented the Killing Curse from reaching Cedric and, at the same time, made him look dead. Those moments of observation were now valuable to him.
The man then attacked Salazar. His body language made it clear he only wanted to subdue him, so they must need him for something, and being around Voldemort's voice wasn't good at all. He could easily defeat that man and get Cedric out of there, and he tried, but his concern to protect the student caused the other man to gain ground and end up pinning him down. So much for a safe flight.
The Unmasking
Godric exchanged a look with Helga and Rowena. They knew the flanks each of them had to take for the intervention. They had to keep an eye on Moody. They knew that the fake Moody was far too confident that his plan, whatever it was, was going well. That could be their best asset. They also had the help of Hermione and Ginny, who had insisted so much that they had been allowed to be part of the operation. They had placed them in a way that they could help but not be harmed. If they had had more time to get those ideas out of their heads, they would have insisted even more. At least, Helga had been training them in combat, because if the situation arose, they were going to need it.
Godric saw how on two occasions, "Moody" cast spells in the direction of the labyrinth. Coincidentally, shortly after that, red sparks appeared in the sky, indicating the positions of the two champions. Shortly after these events, there was a flash of lightning into the sky, like that of a transfer being activated in the middle of darkness. He exchanged a glance with Helga and Rowena. Rowena seemed calm, as if she had anticipated it. Helga was bewildered and looked annoyed; her hair was beginning to turn a reddish hue, which meant danger.
Godric gave the signal. He and Rowena jumped from the stands to intercept him. They combined a spell to force the effects of the Polyjuice Potion to end and reveal his true appearance. Crouch Jr, now exposed, began to cast all kinds of spells and curses at them, to the surprise of the public and the disbelief of the teachers and Ministry members. None of them lifted a finger. Not even Dumbledore, who looked on with an expectant expression. At last, Godric was beginning to think like Salazar, and to consider that for Dumbledore, they were all just chess pieces.
They began to block Crouch's spells. Crouch looked like a rabid dog. In these circumstances, and since the teachers were not yet reacting, they couldn't focus their energy entirely on Crouch, but had to protect the students. Out of the corner of his eye, Godric could see that both Hermione and Ginny were busy covering and protecting the younger students, who seemed to be the most frightened. Helga joined the fight, beginning to attack fiercely alongside the two of them. Godric watched as Crouch Junior cast a Killing Curse in Rowena's direction.
"You bloody son of a bitch!" he heard Nott exclaim. Theodore cast a spell at Crouch, which resulted in the Death Eater ending up with a broken arm. That student's action caused a distraction that allowed them to finally capture Crouch.
"In the name of the Ministry of Magic, you are under arrest," Helga said, putting the magical shackles on him. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can be used against you..."
"My lord will return tonight and settle accounts with Potter's little monkey," Crouch said derangedly.
Godric saw Helga's fury rising; her hair turned a bright, fiery red. It looked like real fire. He could see how she was controlling herself so as not to attack an unarmed prisoner. It was at that moment that Dumbledore decided to act.
"Perhaps you can tell us what just happened," Dumbledore requested, using an authority he had seemingly forgotten as soon as the impostor had been unmasked. "I must say that I am very surprised by this situation."
"This Death Eater is responsible for my fellow champion Harry Potter's name coming out of the Goblet," Godric charged. "We noticed that there was something strange about him and we were watching him. We heard that Professor Snape always had a number of ingredients compatible with Polyjuice Potion disappearing. So Luna and I were doing research to see how to test our theory."
"We told one of the Aurors who were here last year about our suspicion," added Luna, who was holding Theodore Nott's hands. "They were the only ones we could trust."
"We will open an investigation into this. He will be interrogated and sentenced," said the Minister of Magic. "It is clear that he is disturbed, but that does not exempt him from the crimes he has committed."
The Graveyard
Cedric was paralysed the moment he heard the order to kill one of them and saw the wand pointed at him. He couldn't react. He was going to die and he just stood there like an idiot, without reacting, without moving, without trying to save himself. He felt a spell hit him, but it wasn't the curse cast by the man; it was a curse of total immobility that came from where Harry was. The same Harry who had told him they should escape with the Portkey. He wished he had listened to him at that moment. Now on the ground, unable to move anything but his eyes, he saw the Killing Curse pass through the position he had been in just seconds before falling petrified to the ground. Harry had just saved his life, for the second time that night.
He immediately began to hear a loud exchange of spells, though neither of them uttered any incantations. Was Harry using non-verbal magic? Cedric had never imagined it, but he was certainly fast and good at duelling. From the way the spells were happening nearby, he knew that Harry was also covering him while defending himself. Then everything went silent for a few seconds. He then heard a dragging sound. The mysterious wizard had defeated Harry. He wanted to help Harry, but he couldn't move, which told him that Harry was still conscious. What was happening?
"Nott, the ritual," said the eerie voice. "The boy will be conscious, I hope. It's important that he contemplates my rebirth."
"Of course, he's tied up. He won't try anything."
"Proceed."
Cedric tried to talk, to move, to scream. He couldn't. He didn't hear Harry, which surprised him. He expected there to be the sound of something heavy hitting a watery surface, but it didn't make sense for there to be water in the graveyard to produce that sound. Then he remembered the cauldron. Some kind of ritual potion was being brewed, as the man had called it? Who was that man? It was the same voice that had ordered his death. But only one man had been seen.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son," Nott said. Cedric heard something being stirred, and then something fell into the cauldron. He didn't understand a thing. "Flesh of the vassal, willingly given, you will receive your master." Cedric heard the sound of a dagger being unsheathed—he knew the sound from Potions class—and then heard something being cut, followed by a slight groan that was immediately suppressed. He remembered the words that had just been spoken. That was disgusting. Flesh of the vassal... Had the man self-mutilated himself to brew a potion? "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." Cedric heard footsteps, the tearing of cloth, and then a few more footsteps. Then he heard three drops fall into the potion.
Then came silence, followed by a sound like a liquid boiling and bubbling, and then a disturbance in the air similar to those that occurred with transformations. He had a feeling that what he had just witnessed was a very dark magical ritual. He felt like he was going to vomit, but he couldn't.
"Nott. My clothes and my wand."
"Yes, my lord."
"Nagini, you will eat Potter later. And the other for dessert, if you feel like it. First, we must receive our allies properly."
Cedric felt a chill when he heard those words he had not understood. He identified it as Parseltongue. He remembered when Harry had spoken to the snake at Lockhart's duelling club. He had only understood two words: Nagini and Potter. He didn't think it was a good thing that they appeared in the same sentence. He could only think of one person who could speak Parseltongue, and it wasn't Harry. He who must not be named. Cedric was terrified.
"Nott, your arm."
"Yes, my lord."
"How many will be able to come, and how many will be foolish enough not to?"
It wasn't long before Cedric heard different pops. He knew them perfectly; they were the sounds of people Apparating. Several people appeared on the scene.
"My lord," said several voices at once.
"Thirteen years... Thirteen years in which all of you have kept your lives and powers intact while I have been trying to survive. Thirteen years waiting for one of you, my "loyal" servants, to come to my aid." The voice of He who must not be named was that of a maniac. It was frightening. "Only a few loyal servants have kept their promise. The rest of you will have to prove that you are still worthy."
"My lord... During these years we have been waiting for this joyous day, working our influence in the Ministry..."
"Yes, that's fine, Lucius, my old friend. I was told that you haven't lost your old ways. Even your little demonstration at the Quidditch World Cup was interesting, to say the least."
"My lord," this time, Cedric had no trouble identifying who was speaking: it was Lucius Malfoy again. "We would like to... we wondered how it was possible..."
"You don't deserve to know, but I'll tell you. Thirteen years ago I was torn from my body by him whom you considered my downfall. How ridiculous—how could I, Lord Voldemort, be defeated by a drooling child? No one can defeat me. No one. I, who have gone beyond the limits of magic to ensure my own immortality." As scared as Cedric was, and as vulnerable as he felt, petrified and helpless, he did notice one thing. He who must not be named liked to talk about himself; he seemed like a narcissist. "For a year I've been feeding myself a revitalising potion created from the poison of my faithful Nagini. It was all thanks to a loyal vassal of mine who is at Hogwarts and who has made it possible for my special guest to be present. Nott has also done his part in my return. In fact, he will be rewarded." Cedric didn't know what He who must not be named was doing, but he did know he was performing some kind of magic. "Lord Voldemort always rewards those who are loyal to him."
"Thank you, my lord."
"Don't you have anything to say, Harry? Not a single whimper all night. Or are you too polite, or too scared, to talk?"
"I was thinking about the best way to send you to hell, but I don't think even its inhabitants are worthy of your company."
"The time has come for me to show you that the one you called 'my downfall' is nothing more than a child who will soon be Nagini's dinner. Nott, untie Potter and return his wand."
From what he heard, He who must not be named seemed to want to clear his name, to humiliate Harry. That nuance in his voice had not escaped Cedric.
"Have they taught you to fight at school, Harry?" said He who must not be named in a mocking tone.
"From a certain point of view."
Cedric wondered how Harry could be so calm. The voice of the one he considered a friend was very steady; he did not sound scared, or if he was, he was hiding it quite well. Cedric knew he couldn't have handled it like this; he would have been too scared to react. In fact, he had been. If he was alive, it was thanks to Harry. He felt a sense of admiration for his friend's courage.
Cedric heard the two fighting, exchanging spells. He heard He who must not be named growl out of frustration. It seemed the duel was not going as he wished; he didn't seem to expect that facing Harry would cost him so much. He began to hear various spells, as if they were bouncing off pieces of stone. Were they breaking the tombstones with their duelling? He hoped whatever it was, it was a good thing. He again heard a blade cut something in the air, a larger edge than the previous one.
"Nagini, no!" shouted He who must not be named angrily. "Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Cedric didn't understand that. An Expelliarmus against the Killing Curse? What was Harry thinking? He heard the two spells collide in the air, but they didn't deflect or cause a storm of sparks like what usually happened when two spells collided. Then came silence, followed by screams from the Death Eaters about what they could or could not do. He didn't know how long that situation lasted, only that shortly after, he felt Harry jump on him, nullify the curse that had contained him, and pull the Portkey to them, touching it just as He who must not be named materialised in front of them both and screamed in frustration. He could see his face. That disfigured face would never fade from his mind. He felt the Portkey take them to another place. It wasn't long before he saw that they had returned to Hogwarts, at the entrance to the labyrinth. People were approaching them, agitated. He sat up. He could see Harry already standing with a worried expression. His father was next to him, wrapping his arms around him.
"Father, He who must not be named!"
"Don't worry, Ced, don't worry."
"It can't be possible; it must be a trick," he heard the Minister say. They seemed to have been having a complicated conversation.
"I must speak to Messrs. Potter and Diggory in my office," Dumbledore said. "Then they can go to the infirmary to be treated."
"Dumbledore... you can't believe a lunatic and a boy who is clearly deranged."
"Mr. Minister," Harry said in a deep voice. "I don't know what happened here, or why you're all so upset. I only know that Cedric and I ended up in a graveyard where we were ambushed."
"Alright. But I want an Auror to be present. The one who has just caught Crouch Junior will do. She will remain with the boys until tomorrow."
Cedric frowned. Crouch Junior? Wasn't he dead? He who must not be named had spoken of a faithful Death Eater at Hogwarts. He had thought of Snape or Karkaroff, but... that was mad.
"Let the Heads of House accompany the students to their common rooms, and the rest of the teachers wait with the Minister in the staffroom," Headmaster Dumbledore ordered.
The Common Room
Draco gave his friend a meaningful look. In a way, they had been expecting something like this for months. Draco knew that it would eventually happen. His father's actions at the World Cup and his affirmations over the years about the return of the Dark Lord... Draco did not believe that the Impostor had been a madman acting alone, as many were beginning to whisper and as the Minister would surely try to claim. Potter's and Diggory's appearance, back from what they had said was a graveyard where they had been ambushed...
He could hear the murmurs of some students in the Slytherin common room. Everyone was bewildered but aware that something big had happened. Until they had confirmed news of what it was, they couldn't speak without speculating. Not to mention that it was not prudent to do so without the security of the common room. Once inside, they both stayed in a secluded spot, observing the rest in apparent silence, broken only by an occasional comment.
"It has already begun. And I'd better not take the Express tomorrow; I'll have to take another form of transport," Theodore Nott said.
Draco looked at him. The way he had said it was quite forceful and definitive. It was as if he was sure it was going to happen. Draco knew what his friend was talking about: the Dark Lord's return and the impending war he brought with him.
"Then Mars must be brighter than ever," Draco murmured, remembering what that centaur had mentioned in the woods after he had helped Potter with the thing the centaurs drank. He brought him back and said those words. Words that had caught Draco's attention and he had looked up. "The Warlord has been heralding a new one since our first year, at least." He turned his head to look at his friend. "Centaur nonsense."
Draco looked away. The younger students looked a little bewildered and frightened. The older ones were in groups and seemed serious and determined. He knew that many of them wished to be noticed and recruited; others awaited their parents' orders to take their oath and join the dark wizard. A dark wizard who wanted servility until death, not allies, just servants.
"Are you ready?" Draco asked.
"I'll always have a place at my girlfriend's house," Theodore said calmly. "And you?"
"My biggest problem now will be to make sure my mother doesn't come to pick me up at the station, or rather, to give her the runaround. Fortunately, the term ends in mid-June and by then I'll be fifteen." Draco gave a half-smile. "As you said before, it has begun."
They stopped their conversation in time to see Blaise Zabini arrive and take a seat next to them. They hadn't touched on the subject with their friend, not because they didn't trust him, but because they knew that until it was done, it was better that no one knew what they were up to. Any leak could ruin their plans. In fact, he knew that Theodore had the help of the bank, and Draco himself had the help of his mother's cousin. Both would need their O.W.L.s to be able to claim total independence, but the first steps had been underway for months.
"It looks like it's going to get tough," Blaise said.
"Probably," Theodore said. "We just have to wait and see what happens."
"I'll go to sleep," Draco whispered. One last glance at the common room showed him that it was no longer a safe place for certain comments.
The Aftermath
Salazar remained calm on the way to the office, thinking about what he was going to say and how he would approach it. He imagined that if Fudge had sent an Auror to listen in on the conversation, it was because he wanted to find out about it later. So he would have to be careful, especially after seeing how unwilling the Minister was to consider that Voldemort was back. His body language said it all. His words also hinted at this disposition. He could see Helga walking silently next to them; her hair was a fiery red at the moment. He glanced at her, a look laden with meaning. They would have to have another conversation later, because he was not going to tell them everything that had happened or proclaim it openly. First, it was important to know the political situation; and the Minister, from the way he had acted, looked like he was going to make a political move against Dumbledore.
They entered the office, and Dumbledore motioned for them to sit down. There were two armchairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. Salazar sat in one of them, and Cedric sat in the other. Fawkes walked over to Salazar and began to shed tears on the wound on his forearm. Salazar felt comforted, and the song Fawkes was singing was very relaxing. He liked it.
Salazar glanced at Helga again. He was not going to say everything that happened or proclaim it. First, it was convenient to know where the political situation was. The Minister, from the way he had acted, looked like he was going to make his political move against Dumbledore.
The Headmaster asked them what had happened. Cedric began to narrate the events, everything he had heard since Harry had saved him from the Killing Curse: Nott's conversation with Voldemort, the ritual, what he had heard that could be interpreted as a duel, Voldemort's cry for Nagini, and how Harry had finally brought him back.
"So Voldemort has found a way to circumvent that protection," Dumbledore muttered thoughtfully. Salazar saw how Cedric looked puzzled and how Helga frowned. Salazar imagined what Dumbledore was talking about and had to suppress the sly smile that had been about to appear on his face. "Harry, you've been very quiet?"
"I'm putting my ideas in order, Headmaster," Salazar said respectfully. "Something happened with the wands that I don't understand." He knew the Headmaster wanted him to add something to the conversation. "When the spells met, instead of colliding, a kind of knot came out of the point of contact, and everything became as if it were a golden thread. I forced the knot to go against his wand, and as soon as it touched it, echoes of his last spells began to appear."
"Priori Incantatem," Dumbledore explained. "When two wands share a twin core, they don't work well against each other, and the one that wins the will makes the other 'vomit' the echo of its latest spells."
"Is that... is that very common?" Cedric asked, surprised and trembling somewhat.
"No, it's not. In fact, it is a phenomenon that can rarely be seen. Now, boys, it's important that you rest. Not everyone goes through what you have."
"Yes, Headmaster," they said in unison.
"Auror Tonks, would you mind accompanying them to the infirmary? I have to talk to the rest of the staff."
"There will be no problem," she said. "In fact, given the circumstances and until it's confirmed that there's no other potential aggressor, I must stay for protection. At least for tonight."
"The Minister mentioned something. Just don't question them; they've been through a lot and need to rest."
Helga didn't say anything to these last words; she just gestured for him and Cedric to accompany her. Her hair was still a deep red, which could be considered terrifying, as if it was going to burst into flame at any moment. Something Salazar knew would not happen. From the final words in the Headmaster's office, Salazar deduced that Dumbledore seemed upset. He imagined that, like the previous year, he wanted to control everything. Salazar did not like that.
Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them in the infirmary, with a stern expression on her face. She was displeased, not with them, but with the situation in general. From the beginning of the tournament, she had been dissatisfied with it, murmuring about the brutality of the tasks and the little respect for the lives of those who participated in the competition. Not to mention the hostages in the Second Task. So, Salazar lay down on the stretcher that had been assigned to him and allowed himself to be examined without question. The only thing he didn't pay attention to was the draught of dreamless sleep. He didn't take it; he didn't need it.
"You don't intend to take it?" Helga asked him, approaching a few minutes later, after the nurse had disappeared back into her office and everyone in the infirmary was asleep. Cedric had drunk the whole potion, and he was sure Delacour and Krum had been given it too.