The day of the third task dawned with an atmosphere of electric, festival-like tension. The grounds of Hogwarts were transformed. A great, roaring crowd was already filling the Quidditch stadium, which had been converted to overlook the entrance to the massive, hedge-walled maze. Flags representing the three schools and the four champions snapped in the breeze.
In a quiet antechamber reserved for the champions and their families, Harry was experiencing a kind of support he had never known before. He was not alone. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there, fussing over him like a second mother and father, pressing sandwiches into his hands and telling him how proud they were. Bill was there, having taken the day off work to be there, offering words of encouragement and tactical advice. Ron, their friendship fully mended and stronger for it, was by his side, a solid, unwavering presence.
And standing with them, looking for all the world like the brothers they were meant to be, were
Sirius and Remus. Sirius, his eyes shining with a fierce, proud love, clapped Harry on the back. "Just remember what you have practiced, Harry. Keep your wits about you. You're more than a match for anything in there."
Remus, calmer but no less supportive, offered a reassuring smile. "Ariana's training has served you well. Trust your instincts, but trust your preparation more."
This was his family. A loud, chaotic, loving, cobbled-together family, all there for him. The sight of them, united in their support, was a more powerful shield than any Protego.
As he was soaking in this unfamiliar warmth, a new figure approached their group hesitantly. It was Fleur Delacour. She was dressed in her pale blue champion's robes, but her usual haughty confidence was gone, replaced by a look of sincere, nervous humility. She walked directly to Ariana, who was standing quietly with Hermione and Daphne near the edge of the group.
"Mees Dumbledore," Fleur began, her voice soft. "May I have a word?"
Ariana inclined her head, giving Fleur her full attention.
"I… I wish to apologize," Fleur said, looking Ariana directly in the eye. It was clearly difficult for her, but she did not waver. "My behavior in the library… it was proud, and it was foolish. You were correct. I was intimidated by your reputation, and I allowed my own insecurity to manifest as arrogance. It was not befitting of a champion. I am sorry."
It was a genuine, heartfelt apology. Hermione and Daphne looked on, surprised and impressed.
Ariana's expression softened. "An apology based on a logical reassessment of one's own behavior is always accepted, Mademoiselle Delacour," she said graciously. "It shows strength of character, not weakness."
A look of immense relief washed over Fleur's beautiful features. "Thank you," she said. She then gestured towards a small group standing nearby—a handsome, well-dressed wizard, a beautiful, elegant woman, and a small, blonde girl who was staring at Ariana with wide, star-struck eyes. "My parents and my sister, Gabrielle. They insisted on meeting you. Gabrielle, especially… she has heard the stories. She thinks you are… well, she hero-worships you."
Ariana, seeing the earnest plea in Fleur's eyes, gave a small nod. She walked with her over to the Delacour family.
Monsieur Delacour bowed deeply. "It is an honour, Mademoiselle Dumbledore. My daughter has told us of your formidable intellect and power. And, we are also grateful for your research on the Maledictus cure, a relative of ours is now feeling much healthier."
But it was little Gabrielle who was truly captivated. She hid behind her mother's robes, peeking out at Ariana with eyes full of adoration. "You… you have a Thunderbird Patronus?" she whispered in heavily accented English.
"I do," Ariana confirmed gently.
"It is true, then," Gabrielle breathed, looking as though she had just met a figure from a fairytale.
The interaction was brief but significant. It was a mending of bridges, a forging of a new, respectful alliance between two of the most powerful young witches in the tournament. Fleur, by acknowledging her own fault, had gained Ariana's respect, and in doing so, had subtly aligned herself with their growing circle of influence.
As Ariana returned to her own group, Sirius was watching her with a wry, impressed smile.
"Making political allies even before the main event starts," he murmured to Remus. "She really is Dumbledore's heir."
Finally, Ludo Bagman entered the tent, his voice booming. "Champions! Time to take your positions! Harry, Cedric—you're tied for first place, you'll be the first to enter the maze!"
The moment had come. Harry's family enveloped him in one last, massive group hug.
"We'll be watching, Harry!"
"Just do your best!"
"We're proud of you, no matter what!"
Finally, he stood before Ariana. She didn't offer a hug or a platitude. She simply met his gaze, her own calm and steady, a final, anchoring point of logic before he stepped into the chaos.
"Remember the protocols, Harry," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Stay vigilant. Trust no one.
And above all, if you find yourself in the wrong place…"
"…grip the cup and don't let go," he finished for her, the instruction now burned into his memory.
"Correct," she said. A flicker of something—pride, concern, friendship—warmed her eyes. "Execute the plan. Survive."
He nodded, a new, steely resolve settling over him. He was not just fighting for a cup or for glory. He was fighting for the laughing people in his photo album, and for the living, breathing family that now surrounded him. He was ready.
He turned and walked with Cedric towards the dark, looming entrance of the maze, the roar of the crowd washing over him. He was walking into a trap, but he was not walking into it blind. He was armed, he was trained, and he had a plan. The endgame of the tournament was about to begin.