(Third Person POV)
Harry stared at the enormous body of the dead sphinx.
The creature completely blocked the narrow passage ahead.
He glanced to the left.
Solid hedge.
Then to the right.
More hedge.
There wasn't another route.
"...I guess I don't have a choice."
Taking a steadying breath, Harry cautiously approached the sphinx.
Every instinct screamed that it was a terrible idea.
After everything he'd faced in the tournament, he wouldn't have been surprised if the creature suddenly sprang to life the moment he touched it.
Keeping one hand firmly on his wand, he carefully climbed onto the sphinx's broad back.
But fortunately, nothing happened this time.
He crossed over its massive body, trying very hard not to think about the rows of sharp teeth only inches from his legs.
When he finally dropped down onto the other side, he immediately spun around, wand raised.
The sphinx remained perfectly still, still dead.
Harry let out a long sigh of relief. "...Right."
He pushed his glasses back up his nose after they had nearly slipped off during the climb.
Then he continued onward.
His pace was slower now.
Much slower.
If someone, or something, had been capable of killing a sphinx...
Then whatever lurked ahead was far more dangerous than anything he'd encountered so far.
Every corner became a potential ambush. Every rustle of leaves made him tighten his grip on his wand.
Yet nothing happened.
The corridors stretched onward in eerie silence.
No signs of magical creatures.
No hidden curses.
Only the quiet rustling of leaves overhead.
The silence itself began to feel unnatural.
The audience watched with bated breath.
"That's odd," Bagman admitted. "The maze seems... empty, I could swear there were supposed to be a few more traps ahead."
Harry frowned, but he didn't lower his guard.
If anything, the absence of danger worried him more than the danger itself.
Then...
A cold gust of wind swept through the corridor, shaking the leaves around him.
Harry stopped and another gust followed, stronger this time.
The towering hedges swayed violently.
"What in Merlin's name...?" Bagman muttered.
The wind intensified with alarming speed.
Harry leaned forward as another powerful blast struck him in the back, forcing him to plant his feet to avoid being pushed forward.
The branches overhead whipped wildly, leaves filled the air like a green storm.
Then the maze moved.
The hedges on either side slowly began creeping inward.
Harry's eyes widened.
"They're closing!" someone shouted from the stands.
The walls continued advancing steadily.
Harry took a cautious step backward, but the hedge behind him also began moving.
He was being boxed in.
His heartbeat quickened.
"Run!" Ron Weasley yelled from the stands as if Harry could hear him through the projection before immediately being shushed by Professor McGonagall.
Fortunately, Harry didn't need the advice.
The moment he realised what was happening, he broke into a sprint.
The wind roared in his ears.
The hedges chased after him, their thick branches scraping together with a horrible grinding sound.
Behind him, entire sections of the maze folded inward like the jaws of some enormous beast.
Harry didn't dare look back again.
He simply ran, taking every turn at full speed, knowing that every corner risked being his last, but having no other choice.
Branches brushed against his robes as the walls tried to trap him.
The audience collectively held its breath.
"Come on, Harry!"
"Keep going!"
"Faster!"
Bagman's voice had abandoned all pretence of professional commentary.
"Potter is running for his life!"
The maze itself had become the final obstacle.
For what felt like an eternity, but was in truth only a few frantic minutes, Harry ran without slowing.
His lungs burned and his legs screamed in protest, but he kept going, refusing to give up.
At last the corridor opened.
When Harry stumbled out into a small circular clearing, the wind ceased instantly.
Behind him, the living hedges stopped advancing, standing motionless once more, as though nothing had happened.
Harry bent forward, breathing hard, his glasses had slipped down his nose again.
He pushed them back into place with a trembling hand.
"...Bloody hell..."
Only then did he finally look up.
The audience followed his gaze.
At the very centre of the clearing stood a stone pedestal, and resting upon it, bathed in brilliant golden light, was the Triwizard Cup.
It gleamed like polished gold beneath the afternoon sun, its twin handles curving elegantly outward.
For a moment, Harry simply stared.
After everything he'd endured...
Dragons.
The Black Lake.
The maze.
The cup was finally within reach.
Only a few dozen steps separated him from victory.
…
Harry didn't rush.
After everything the maze had thrown at him, he had learned one important lesson.
Nothing here was ever as simple as it looked.
His breathing gradually steadied as he approached the pedestal one careful step at a time.
The Triwizard Cup gleamed invitingly before him.
It was so close.
Close enough that he could already see his own reflection shimmering faintly across the polished metal.
Yet Harry never lowered his wand, his green eyes swept across the clearing.
Left.
Right.
Behind the pedestal.
The surrounding hedges.
But still nothing.
The silence was almost unsettling.
"...One last trap," he murmured.
There had to be one. He refused to believe the tournament would simply hand him the victory.
He took another cautious step, then another.
The cup remained perfectly still.
When he finally reached the pedestal, he slowly extended his left hand toward the trophy while keeping his wand raised in his right.
His fingertips were only inches away when a flash of red light erupted from nowhere.
Harry's eyes widened, and almost instinctively, his wand snapped upward.
"Protego!"
The Shield Charm hadn't even fully formed before he twisted his wrist, redirecting the incoming spell.
The crimson bolt ricocheted harmlessly into the air, soaring high above the towering hedges before disappearing from sight.
The audience erupted.
"What reflexes!"
"That was close!"
Harry himself looked momentarily surprised, but then a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
'Thanks, Sirius.'
Countless hours of duelling practice.
Endless surprise attacks.
Exploding teacups.
Jinxed doorknobs.
Bewitched pillows.
More than once, Sirius had declared that constant vigilance wasn't a lesson...
"It was a lifestyle."
Harry had privately suspected his godfather simply enjoyed causing chaos.
But now, he was rather grateful for it.
A slow clap echoed through the clearing.
"Excellent reflexes, Harry."
The voice came from somewhere ahead.
The air several yards away shimmered like heat rising from stone.
The distortion gradually peeled away, revealing the figure that had been concealed beneath it.
Dark robes.
Black hair.
Calm brown eyes.
Ivan Karkaroff lowered his wand as the modified Disillusionment Charm finally dissipated.
"I expected you to react quickly," he said evenly.
"But I must admit… The shield was faster than I anticipated."
Harry didn't lower his own wand, his eyes narrowed.
"So it was you."
Ivan inclined his head slightly. "It was."
He glanced briefly toward the Triwizard Cup between them. "I've been waiting for you."
Ivan rested his wand casually against his palm. "I arrived some time ago."
His tone was calm, almost conversational.
"When I reached this clearing and found the cup sitting here..." He glanced toward the gleaming trophy. "...I was disappointed."
Harry frowned.
"I expected one final obstacle. A guardian. A curse. Something worthy of the tournament."
"But instead… There was only a cup."
He gave a faint shrug. "I could have claimed it immediately."
His eyes returned to Harry. "I even considered doing so."
For a brief moment, the clearing fell silent.
"But..." Ivan continued, a small smile appearing on his face, "...it felt hollow."
He slowly began walking in a lazy circle around the pedestal, never taking his eyes off Harry.
"I had spent months preparing. I crossed the lake. I overcame the dragon. I navigated this maze. And after all that..."
He gestured toward the cup. "...I was simply expected to pick it up?"
He chuckled softly. "Where is the satisfaction in that? Where is the challenge?"
Harry tightened his grip on his wand but said nothing.
Ivan stopped walking. "So I had another idea."
"I would wait. For you."
"And if Miss Delacour somehow made it here before either of us, then for her as well."
His smile widened slightly. "The winner should earn the cup."
"Not merely stumble upon it."
He lowered his wand until it pointed loosely at the ground. "What do you say, Harry?"
His blue eyes gleamed with unmistakable anticipation. "Do you feel up for a duel?"
The words hung in the air between them.
Harry looked away from Ivan, to the Triwizard Cup, and back again.
His heart pounded.
This was it.
The final obstacle hadn't been hidden inside the maze after all.
It had been waiting at the end.
Slowly...
Harry raised his wand into a proper duelling stance, a determined smile spread across his face.
"I'd be disappointed if you hadn't asked."
Ivan's own smile widened. "Excellent."
He lifted his wand with effortless grace. "For the Triwizard Cup, then."
Neither wizard moved.
Neither dared blink.
Around them, the summer breeze stirred the towering hedges.
In the stands, hundreds of spectators held their breath.
Even Ludo Bagman had fallen silent.
Two champions.
One trophy.
And now...
A duel to decide who would claim it.
…