Chapter 58: Chapter 58: The Maze

The hedges closed behind Arthur immediately, cutting off the sounds of the crowd. The sudden silence was unnerving. Ahead stretched a single path that soon split into a fork. Left or right?

Arthur chose left, moving cautiously. Without magic, his options were severely limited. He couldn’t blast through obstacles, transfigure anything useful, or defend against magical attacks. All he had were his enhanced physical abilities and his wits.

The maze felt alive. Branches shifted slightly even without wind. Leaves rustled as though whispering secrets to one another. Twenty paces in, Arthur already knew that navigating the maze wouldn’t be easy.

A second whistle pierced the air. Harry had entered.

Arthur picked up his pace. The path twisted and turned, occasionally branching. He maintained his bearings with careful attention to the position of Hogwarts castle, visible in glimpses above the towering hedges.

The real challenge wasn’t navigation—it was the constant, subtle shifting of the maze itself. Twice he found promising paths that suddenly dead-ended as the hedges silently merged together, forcing him to backtrack.

A third whistle sounded. Krum was now in the maze.

Arthur rounded a corner and froze. Ahead, filling the entire path, crouched a massive acromantula. Its eight eyes gleamed in the twilight, mandibles clicking in hungry anticipation.

“Bloody perfect,” Arthur muttered.

The spider lunged. Arthur dove to one side, rolling beneath its reaching legs. The acromantula skittered around, surprisingly agile for its size, and charged again.

This time, Arthur stood his ground until the last moment, then jumped aside. The giant spider, unable to arrest its momentum, crashed into the hedge wall. Its legs became entangled in the dense foliage, temporarily trapping it.

Arthur seized the opportunity. He grabbed one of the spider’s front legs and, with his enhanced strength, twisted sharply. The limb snapped with a sickening crack. The acromantula shrieked—a high, chittering sound that sent chills down Arthur’s spine.

Before it could free itself, Arthur wrenched off a second leg. The creature thrashed wildly, but its position only drove it deeper into the hedge.

Using the broken leg like a spear, Arthur delivered a precise strike through the acromantula’s head. The creature shuddered violently, then went still.

Arthur examined his impromptu weapons. Two acromantula legs, each about five feet long, with sharp, chitinous points. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

The final whistle blew. Fleur had entered.

Arthur continued deeper into the maze, one spider leg held like a staff, the other secured across his back. The path narrowed as he advanced, the hedges growing closer until they brushed his shoulders from both sides.

Suddenly, the air grew thick with a golden mist that shimmered with unnatural light. Recognizing what it was, Arthur walked into it without hesitation.

The world turned upside down. Literally.

Arthur found himself hanging from the ground, his feet seemingly stuck to what had been the path below him, while the starry sky now yawned beneath. Despite the disorienting visual, he remained calm, understanding the illusion’s nature.

Closing his eyes to block out the confusing visual input, Arthur walked forward until he felt the mist dissipate. When he opened his eyes again, the world had righted itself, and he continued on his way.

The path split again. Arthur chose the leftward fork, which seemed to curve toward the center of the maze. He’d gone only a few steps when the air in front of him shimmered and a massive figure materialized.

A towering purple-skinned titan with a golden gauntlet, gleaming with six colored stones.

For a split second, Arthur froze, wondering what Thanos was doing here. Then understanding dawned.

“A boggart,” Arthur realized aloud.

Knowing what it truly was, Arthur felt no fear. Without magic to cast Riddikulus, he prepared to simply charge through the creature when it started to shift forms again.

It transformed into a towering form of dark energy. Arthur recognized its attempt to become Dormammu, but the cosmic entity seemed too complex for the boggart to replicate properly.

It tried changing once more, morphing into something immense. From the initial transformation, Arthur could tell it was attempting to become a Celestial. But again, the concept proved too vast for the simple magical creature. Without warning, it simply burst into wisps of dark smoke that dissipated into the hedge walls.

Arthur stood motionless, staring at the space where the creature had been. “Bit off more than it could chew,” he muttered, shaking his head before continuing forward.

Two turns later, he came face to face with a hideous creature—a blast-ended skrewt, at least ten feet long. Its armored shell gleamed in the dim light, scorpion-like stinger poised above its back.

Arthur gripped both acromantula legs tightly. This wouldn’t be easy.

The skrewt charged, its stinger stabbing forward with lethal intent. Arthur sidestepped, striking at the creature’s eyes, but the weapon nearly deflected off its armored head.

“Thick armor,” Arthur observed, quickly reassessing his approach.

The skrewt’s rear end suddenly exploded, propelling it forward with alarming speed. This time, Arthur wasn’t quite fast enough. The creature’s armored bulk slammed into him, sending him flying into the hedge.

Sharp thorns tore at his clothes as he extricated himself. The skrewt was already turning for another charge.

Arthur examined the path quickly. Too narrow to properly maneuver. But perhaps…

As the skrewt built up speed for another rush, Arthur ran straight toward it, then at the last moment, leapt upward. He propelled himself over the charging creature, coming down on its blind side.

Before it could turn, Arthur wedged one of the acromantula legs beneath an edge of its shell and pushed with all his might. The makeshift lever worked—the skrewt tipped onto its side, legs waving uselessly in the air.

Arthur didn’t wait to see if it could right itself. He sprinted past, continuing deeper into the maze.

Suddenly, a horrified scream cut through the night air—female, definitely Fleur. Perhaps Krum was already under the Imperius Curse.

Arthur hesitated only briefly before heading toward the sound. From his knowledge of the original timeline, Harry would likely find the path to the cup from Fleur’s position.

The path twisted confusingly, but he maintained his orientation. Rounding a corner, Arthur came upon a disturbing scene. Viktor Krum stood over Fleur’s writhing form, his wand pointed at her, his face blank and expressionless. The unmistakable red light of the Cruciatus Curse connected them.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. Rushing and closing the distance in seconds, he delivered a precise strike to the back of Krum’s neck. The Bulgarian champion crumpled instantly, his wand falling from limp fingers.

Fleur gasped for breath, her body still trembling from the aftereffects of the torture curse.

“Krum?” Arthur checked the Bulgarian’s pulse, hoping he hadn’t struck too hard. Strong and steady—he’d only been knocked unconscious.

Examining Krum more closely, Arthur noted the glazed look in his half-open eyes. “Imperius Curse,” he muttered, for Fleur’s benefit. This was clearly Crouch Jr.’s work.

“’E attacked me,” Fleur whispered, struggling to sit up. “Out of nowhere…”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Arthur said. “He was being controlled.”

Fleur looked confused but too traumatized to question further. She wouldn’t be continuing the task—that much was clear.

However, she was also in no condition to call for help herself. Arthur faced a dilemma. He couldn’t send up red sparks without magic, but he couldn’t leave them here either, especially with dangerous creatures roaming the maze.

The sound of running footsteps approached. Moments later, Harry Potter rounded the corner, wand at the ready.

“Arthur? What happened?” His eyes widened at the sight of the two fallen champions.

“Krum was using the Cruciatus on Fleur,” Arthur explained quickly. “I knocked him out. He was under the Imperius Curse—someone’s interfering with the Tournament.”

Harry paled. “That’s an Unforgivable!”

“Yes, and I can’t send up sparks without magic. Could you signal for help?”

Harry nodded, raising his wand. “Periculum!” Red sparks shot upward, hovering above their position.

“The professors should be here soon,” Harry said, lowering his wand. “Do we wait or…?”

A strange rumbling sound interrupted him. The hedges around them began to shift and move, opening a clear path that hadn’t existed moments before.

Through the new opening, they could see it—the Triwizard Cup, gleaming on a stone pedestal perhaps a hundred yards away.

“The Cup!” Harry gasped.

“Let’s go,” Arthur said immediately. “Someone’s manipulating this tournament, and they’re not playing games anymore. Let’s get to the cup and end this.”

Harry hesitated. “What about you?”

“Not letting you win that easy. I’ll be right behind you. Go!”

Arthur ran at the same pace as Harry, keeping neck and neck. While running, Arthur said in a low voice, “Harry! With everything going on, anything may be possible. Someone wanted you in this tournament and, by the looks of it, wants you to win. If anything strange happens, remember Dumbledore set the cup as a portkey to return to the podium!”

Harry shot him a confused look but kept running.

The cup gleamed brighter as they approached, its blue-white light almost hypnotic.

Suddenly, Arthur’s instincts screamed a warning. He dove to the side just as a jet of sickly green light streaked past, precisely where he’d been running.

The Killing Curse.

Harry skidded to a stop, eyes wide with shock.

“Keep going!” Arthur shouted. “Get to the cup and call for the professors! Someone’s trying to murder the champions!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harry nodded and resumed running toward the cup.

“Show yourself, Moody!” Arthur called, scanning the hedges.

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