Four months had flown by in what seemed like the blink of an eye after the second match beneath the Black Lake’s dark waters, and finally, inevitably, the long-anticipated finals of the Triwizard Tournament had arrived.

From early morning, spectators began filling into the massive viewing stands one after another in steady streams. Despite the increasingly unstable situation in the wizarding world, despite the rumors of Voldemort’s return and the growing unease that filled magical society, there were still many witches and wizards willing to show their support for this historic competition.

When Harry, Hermione, and Ron came downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast, they were immediately surprised and pleasantly shocked, by the sight of several familiar people standing together in the entrance hall, clearly waiting for them.

Sirius and Remus stood near the front, both dressed in casual robes rather than formal attire, both showing expressions of pride mixed with concern.

Their presence was certainly within Harry’s expectations, since Harry had written to Sirius weeks ago, informing his godfather with excitement that he would be competing in the third task as Hermione’s assistant.

But actually, seeing his father’s two closest friends in person, Harry’s heart was still overwhelmed with surging joy that made his chest tight and his eyes prickle with emotion.

However, the unexpected appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with their eldest son Bill with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail, was completely beyond any of their expectations. The three stopped on the stairs, momentarily frozen in surprise.

“Didn’t expect this, did you!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her voice was carrying across the entrance hall with motherly enthusiasm.

She was the first to notice them coming down from upstairs. She pushed past Sirius, who had been standing in front of her blocking her path, and rushed over quickly with her arms already extending.

Before Harry and the others could even open their mouths to speak or greet her, she had wrapped each of them in turn in a crushing, enthusiastic hug that left them breathless.

“Oh, you’re squeezing me so tight I can’t breathe, Mum!” Ron coughed twice after finally getting his turn for a motherly embrace, speaking in an unnatural, strained tone as he tried to fill his compressed lungs with air.

His gaze moved past his mother’s shoulder, to look at his father, who stood several feet behind her, smiling at him with affection and pride. “Are you all here just to watch the match, Dad? Did you really come all this way?”

“Bryan wrote to us personally, inviting us to come watch and telling us the news that you’d be competing,” Mr. Weasley explained with a warm smile at his youngest son.

“Once we knew that you’d have this opportunity, that you’d actually be participating in the Triwizard Tournament, we immediately decided to come to Hogwarts for the match. We wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

“We also wrote to Charlie to tell him the exciting news, hoping he could join us,” Bill interjected as he explained the situation. He shrugged. “But unfortunately, he can’t leave those dragons of his—you know how he is about his work. He asked me specifically to apologize to you on his behalf, Ron. He was genuinely disappointed not to be here. As for Percy—”

Bill paused and said with a wink. “Well, you know his style, Ron.”

“Can’t entirely blame Percy for not being here—” the good-natured Remus Lupin said quickly with a smile, clearly trying to smooth over any awkwardness.

“You already know he’s become my assistant at the workshop now, working under me. With me not being there today, and with Amelia having come to Hogwarts as well for the tournament, someone absolutely has to stay at the workshop to handle any emergency matters that might arise.”

‘Amelia.’

Harry’s curious gaze naturally shifted and fell on the pretty girl standing beside Sirius. Harry’s mouth opened slightly in genuine surprise.

If he remembered correctly, this girl seemed to be a young witch from the American magical community. How had she ended up coming all the way to Britain again? And from Remus’s casual tone, it seemed she had not only traveled here but had even joined the Learning Machine Workshop as an employee.

The girl noticed his attention and gave them all a restrained, somewhat nervous smile. She seemed uncomfortable about being the center of attention, uncertain about her place in this gathering of people who all knew each other so well.

After Harry and Hermione returned a similar friendly smile, trying to make her feel welcome, Harry bounded down the remaining steps with new energy and gave Sirius, who came forward eagerly to meet him, a tight hug that conveyed months of missed connection.

“How are you feeling about all this?” Sirius asked affectionately, holding Harry at arm’s length to look him over properly.

He ruffled Harry’s constantly untidy black hair with obvious fondness, grinning widely. “This is an unprecedented grand event, you know—just like the Quidditch World Cup finals, maybe even bigger. The entire European wizarding community will be watching. Are you feeling a bit overwhelmed by the pressure and attention?”

“Oh, actually it’s okay, I’m managing fine, really—” Harry said, trying to project confidence he didn’t entirely feel.

But his not-so-steady voice, the slight tremor in his words, revealed quite clearly that he was actually considerably more nervous than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley had finally released Ron from her maternal embrace with reluctance. She cupped Ron’s face tenderly in both her hands and examined him carefully, her eyes were traveling over every detail of his face as though checking for signs of illness or injury.

Then she pulled Harry over by his arm to scrutinize him with the same tender intensity, her brow was furrowing with concern.

“You two look thinner than when I last saw you!” she said with growing distress, her voice rose slightly.

Anger suddenly appeared on Mrs. Weasley’s usually pleasant face. “That idiot Fudge, trying to starve—”

“Molly,” Mr. Weasley interrupted his wife’s building complaint, placing a calming hand on her arm. “Since this matter has been properly resolved, perhaps we should let it pass. Bryan handled the situation admirably. Besides, the children are about to enter the arena—we shouldn’t be creating negative emotions or adding to their stress at this critical moment.”

This was a reason Mrs. Weasley couldn’t possibly argue with, much as she might want to express her full opinion on Ministry incompetence. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She let her face gradually fill with warm smiles again, though traces of her earlier anger still flickered in her eyes.

“Oh, all right, your father’s right as usual,” she conceded, patting Ron’s cheek affectionately. “You certainly haven’t eaten breakfast yet, and that simply won’t do—you have an intense competition to face! You’ll need your strength!”

Thus, surrounded by the supportive group of family and friends, feeling both comforted and slightly overwhelmed by all the attention, the three were gently and firmly ushered into the Great Hall for what might be their last peaceful meal before the chaos began.

But truthfully, in this particular situation with their nerves stretched tight and their stomachs churning with anxiety, they discovered they had precious little actual appetite despite Mrs. Weasley’s concerns.

Even Ron, who usually used eating as his primary stress-relief method and could normally put away enormous quantities of food regardless of circumstances, found he couldn’t manage to force down even a single sausage after the reality fully sank in that he would be stepping onto the competition field in less than two hours.

His image would be broadcast magically to the entire European magical community, thousands upon thousands of wizards would be watching his every move.

“This simply won’t do—” Mrs. Weasley frowned deeply as she watched Ron sitting stiffly at the Gryffindor table, clutching his goblet of pumpkin juice with white knuckles, taking tiny, mechanical sips that barely wet his lips. His legs bounced nervously under the table in a rhythm that showed his agitation.

“Fred and George and Ginny weren’t nearly this nervous before their part, Ron,” she said with some concern. “Your two brothers even stuffed their pockets absolutely full with meat pies before going into the forest. They were joking and laughing like it was any other day.”

“Oh, of course they have good appetites,” Ron muttered defensively. “That’s because they don’t have to worry about performing in front of tens of thousands of watching wizards from all over Europe, do they? They’re not the ones whose every mistake will be—”

But before Ron could finish speaking his anxiety-driven complaint, Hermione’s suddenly raised and unexpectedly sharp voice cut across his words.

“Into the forest?” she repeated, her voice rose with each word.

Hermione looked absolutely thunderstruck; her face was draining of color. She stared at Mrs. Weasley with growing shock and horror. “Mrs. Weasley, did you just say that Fred and George… and Ginny, they went into the forest… do you mean the Forbidden Forest? But what could they possibly be doing there? Isn’t that where the third task takes place?!”

Thud!

Harry’s hand, which had been holding a piece of toast halfway to his mouth, suddenly released it completely. The bread fell to his plate with a soft sound. His mouth hung open wide, frozen in shock. His blank expression was rapidly becoming tinged with traces of panic.

“Oh, you didn’t know yet? Bryan didn’t mention it?” Seeing Harry’s stricken reaction, Sirius also said with some surprise, his eyebrows rose.

“I assumed he would have told you. Bryan took quite a few students into the Forbidden Forest very early this morning, before most people were even awake—all the students from that Physical Education class he teaches.”

Sirius paused, then added: “He told us that those students would be serving as one of the examiners for the champions and their assistants during the task.”

Ron’s expression soured, his face went from pale to slightly green. He said with profound misery, his voice was emerging as almost a whimper: “Is it too late to change assistants now, Hermione? Because I think I might be sick.”

If this were any other time, under normal circumstances, such defeatist talk from Ron would certainly have earned him Hermione’s sharp criticism and a lecture about maintaining a positive attitude.

But now, with this revelation settling over them like a suffocating blanket, Hermione’s face was rapidly losing all its color as well. She looked nearly as terrible as Ron did.

“The truth comes out at last…” Harry said with what he clearly intended to sound like despair, though his tone carried an edge of dark humor. “No wonder Professor Watson wanted the champions to find assistants, Hermione. It all makes sense now. Fred and George and Ginny and all the others—they weren’t willing to say anything at all about their Physical Education final exam content, were they? They kept completely silent despite all our questions.”

Harry’s green eyes widened further as the full picture assembled in his mind.

“Maybe their exam content, their actual test, is specifically to eliminate us from the competition? To hunt us down and defeat us?”

“Very likely, Harry,” Hermione agreed, her lips were barely moving as she spoke in a breathless rush. “That would explain the confidentiality agreements, the secrecy, everything. Oh god.”

The three students about to compete looked at each other across the table, their expressions were growing increasingly lifeless as the reality of what they faced became clear. All the color had drained from their faces, leaving them looking like ghosts.

“Is this challenge really that terrifying?” Sirius asked, his tone caught between genuine amusement and bewilderment at their extreme reaction.

The conversation between the three young wizards had clearly surprised him.

“Could it truly be more frightening than facing fully-grown dragons that breathe fire, or aggressive merpeople in their own territory underwater? Oh, and I should mention, the headmasters of both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons also saw those young wizards going into the Forbidden Forest earlier. And they looked quite relaxed about it, not concerned at all…”

“That’s precisely because they don’t understand, Sirius!” Harry’s emotions were clearly becoming agitated now, his voice was rising with stress and frustration. He leaned forward urgently, trying to make them realize the gravity of the situation.

“If they knew anything about how we actually trained in Physical Education class, if they’d experienced even one session in Professor Watson’s spiritual world training ground, then they would immediately know and understand that facing this particular kind of challenge, the realistic possibility of achieving victory is almost zero!”

Sirius and Remus exchanged glances across the table. After a few seconds of silence, considering how to respond, Sirius smiled calmly.

“If that’s truly the case, if the situation is really as dire as you’re suggesting, then what exactly do you three plan to do about it?” he asked reasonably. “Will you give up?”

‘Give up?’

The three caught in their spiral of extreme anxiety fell into abrupt silence at the question, the words hit them like cold water.

Giving up was completely impossible—they absolutely didn’t want to be seen as cowards by everyone watching, by the entire school, by the international wizarding community. The shame of that alone would be unbearable.

“I believe that since Bryan set up this particular challenge, since he designed this entire task, he must have thoroughly considered your actual abilities and limitations,”

Amelia, functioning as a clearer-headed observer unburdened by their immediate panic, suddenly interjected into the tense conversation. Her voice was calm and rational, cutting through their anxiety.

“He couldn’t possibly have designed a scenario where you face completely unbeatable opponents with no chance at all of success, could he? That would be cruel and pointless. There must be a way to succeed.”

“Exactly right! Cheer up, young lady and gentlemen!” Mr. Weasley added with an encouraging smile, nodding his agreement with Amelia’s assessment.

“It’s far too early to lose confidence and surrender to despair now, before you’ve even seen what you’re up against. You’ll have to wait and see what specific rules Bryan announces, what the actual structure of the task will be. Besides, when you think about it logically, your advantages in this situation are quite obvious, aren’t they?”

“Advantages?” Ron’s lips were pale, almost bloodless. He stared at Mr. Weasley with confusion. “I honestly don’t see where our supposed advantages are.”

“Well, at the very least, think about this—the champions from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang still haven’t figured out the truth yet, have they?”

Mr. Weasley pointed out reasonably. “They still don’t understand that the seemingly unremarkable opponents Bryan has arranged for them to face are actually a quite terrifying and highly trained group of combat-ready young wizards, do they? They’re going in completely blind to the real danger.”

The observation made the three furrow their brows slightly, considering this new angle.

“Does that really count as an advantage, Sirius?” Harry asked skeptically, wanting confirmation. “Them not knowing what they’re facing?”

“Of course it counts as a significant advantage,” Sirius replied firmly, giving Harry an encouraging smile.

“Didn’t Bryan teach you this principle in all your training? Understanding your opponent, knowing their capabilities and limitations, is the essential prerequisite for achieving victory in any conflict. And you understand exactly what you’re facing, while they don’t. That’s not nothing, Harry.”

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