HP: A Magical Journey

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If the overhead projection that reflected the image of the artificial eye from Project: Drone Vision was a spectacular sight in the early blue evening sky, then its sight in the dark night sky was nothing less than stunning. The bright lights contrasted so well with the inky black background that every neck was craned up towards the sky.

“Dear viewers, the third task is a special one; unlike the first two tasks, the third task has the aspect of champion aggression — meaning that the champions have the opportunity to take each other out,” said Quinn to all his viewers, “now, you might be thinking, the second task had the same opportunity; the champions could’ve attacked each other — but didn’t because they were working under a time constraint and the pressure of losing their loved ones.. . . trying to mess with your competition doesn’t really enter one’s mind.”

“But here, they don’t have that proverbial sword hanging over their head; the champions can work as freely as they want,” he grinned, “that is if they can find their way inside the maze. . . . because let me tell you, mazes could be a real pain-in-the-butt.”

And Quinn was right; the four champions were totally lost, and that too in different directions of the maze.

The audience saw Harry Potter at a fork in the maze, trying to figure out which split to take. He waved his lit wand tip in either direction, and after what looked like a serious contemplation, he decided to go left.

The eye overhead turned into a different direction and zoomed in to show Fleur Delacour walking on a straight path, covered with towering hedges cast black shadows across the way; she was constantly looking towards her back as if worried about a tail.

The illusion shifted and focused on Cedric, who was running through a path full of odd silver mist floating above him. He was shooting spells left and right. But the fog remained intact, not being fazed at all.

“About that silver mist,” laughed Quinn, “it’s completely harmless — does nothing at all, absolutely nothing. But in a pressure situation like the current one, it does wonders — ah the charms of the human mind.”

Quinn moved the artificial eye to the next champion, where they saw Krum walking slowly along a pathway with a golden mist overhead. He seemed to take every step after thinking thrice.

“The gold mist, on the other hand, is a completely different monstrosity,” announced Quinn, “right now, with every step Victor Krum takes, his perception of direction changes — he could be feeling like the sky is below him, or the world has shifted to his side,” Quinn had once subjected himself to the golden mist for fun — turned out, pretty not fun.

“The champions seem to be doing just fine right now, but I have to be honest, I’m looking forward to a confrontation.”

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– (Scene Break) –

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Two men sat in their chairs, looking up above at the illusion in the sky.

“Your speculation turned out to be correct,” said one of the men.

“It was sort of obvious, don’t you think?” replied the second.

The first man glanced at the second for a moment before speaking, “Are you prepared for it? You understand that if you fail your task, this entire thing is doomed.”

“You don’t have to be worried about me,” said the second, “I’m prepared for this — among our little group, I’m the one most capable for this one.”

“And why’s that,” scoffed the first, “I’ve been here for months, I’m better than you — I don’t know why he chose you for this.”

The second man rested his chin on the back of his hand and spoke with a bored expression on his face, “I know Hogwarts more than you can ever imagine — but you already know that, don’t you? I’m the reason you’re still here. If I wasn’t here, you would’ve been found by the Potter children by now.”

The first man grunted unpleasantly. “So, why are you still sitting here? Shouldn’t you be doing what you’re supposed to do?”

“I’m already done. I had the entire evening to do so.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving. Just needed to give it a little time.”

The second man got up and fixed his cloth before putting on a weak smile and turned to a person sitting a few seats from him, “Minister, unfortunately, I’ll have to leave — I’m feeling under the weather.”

Cornelius Fudge turned his eyes away from the sky, “Oh, Crouch, your sickness is acting up again? You’ve been like this for months. Have you gone to the hospital to see what is it?”

“Barty Crouch Senior” smiled weekly and shook his head, “I should do that, Minister. I’ve been putting it off because of the tournament.”

“See that you do,” said Fudge.

Barty Senior walked past the panel of judges when he was stopped by a voice, “Bartemious, if you’re feeling unwell, how about letting Poppy take a look.”

Barty turned towards Dumbledore and shook his head, “Thank you for the offer, Dumbledore, but I would prefer to go home and take a rest before going to the St. Mungos tomorrow morning.”

“Ah, if that’s what you would prefer,” said Dumbledore, “I just hoped you’d stay till the end.”

Barty looked up at the illusion. “I would also like that, but I’m feeling fragile. I think it would be better for me to just leave.”

“I see, then I hope you feel better soon.”

‘Thank you.”

Barty walked down from the judge’s panel, and as he passed through the general seating area, he caught a glance of James and Lily Potter, and immediately he turned his face away.

He couldn’t keep his expression from turning neutral or his eyes from turning bloodshot. He feared that if he kept looking at them, he would chop their heads off with severing charms, for he was Peter Pettigrew and the sole motive of his life was to kill the Potters.

‘Keep calm, Peter, keep calm. Your time will come soon.’

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– (Scene Break) –

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In the maze, the champions made their way through the dark hedges — all were trying to move north, where they knew the Tri-wizard cup waited for them.

Cedric Diggory emerged at a point in the maze, where including the path he entered through, eight paths lay in front of him, all going through different directions. His first instinct was to head straight north and take the path pointing north, but his feet halted — Cedric kenned that there was no way the north-facing course headed north.

‘Where should I go?’ he thought; the only way to find out was to pick a route and work it till he reached the dead-end. ‘Let’s go with that one,’ he decided on a path, but just as he stepped, Cedric heard a snap — his eyes widened and immediately ducked and rolled on the ground as a spell shot over his head, burning a hole into the maze hedge; the damage was instantly recovered.

He looked behind and saw the offender. “Fleur, it’s nice to meet you as well,” Cedric smiled as he got up with his wand pointed at her.

“If so, then you should’ve accepted my greeting,” said Fleur.

“And let you have all the fun?”

The two stared at each other for a split second before their wands ripped out spells directly at each other, meeting in the middle momentarily — again and thrice, every time their spells met — canceling each other out.

“Looks like we’re equally matched,” said Cedric.

“I would disagree,” smiled Fleur, “I haven’t even started yet.”

Just as they were about to go for another bout, they heard a rustle of the leaves. They looked to sound to see a barrage of small rocks rocketing towards them. The two champions pulled up shield charms for protection; the rocks bounced off harmlessly against the transparent barriers.

“Come out, Potter,” yelled Cedric, pointing at one of the passageways, “I know you’re there, come out, or I will open fire,” his wand started to glow in a violent red.

Harry Potter walked out with a smile on his face, with his wand in front of him, “The rocks gave it away, didn’t they?”

“They did,” said Cedric, “you used that one a bit too much during the dueling club.”

“How about we two Hogwarts boys team up and take out the enemy,” suggested Harry nudging his wand towards Fleur, “I’m sure we can work something out, but for now, it would make more sense to increase the chances of Hogwarts winning.”

Fleur became extra vigilant as she backed up a few steps and stared at Cedric; her chances weren’t good if Cedric and Harry teamed up.

Cedric contemplated for a second before glancing up, “You know, Quinn is probably — definitely — watching us right now and with him, the entire school. It wouldn’t be chivalrous for us to gang up against a lady.”

Harry shrugged in response, “And if Quinn was standing here, he would scoff and laugh at you.”

“That he would,” laughed Cedric and then pointed his wand at Fleur, “sorry Fleur, but it’s nothing personal.”

“I’m offended, nevertheless,” said Fleur as she cautiously gazed at the two wands pointed towards her, “you two boys really lack manners,” she sighed, “but a lady needs to look out for herself, so don’t blame me. . . . it’s nothing personal.”

She flicked her wand in a circular motion, and seven flaming orbs of blue-red fire appeared around her. She shifted her head to push her hair back and spoke, “Veelas can be vindictive when threatened.” ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​

Six out of the seven fireballs rapidly spin before splitting into two groups of three and canon-bolted towards Harry and Cedric. The two boys immediately pulled up their shields — the first fire orbs made their shield reach their limit, the second began degrading their structural integrity, and the third exploded, throwing them back into the ground.

She took a deep breath — the fire orbs were heavy magic for her. Every Veela had an affinity for fire, and so did Fleur — while the full potential was restricted when she wasn’t in her avian-form, Fleur could still get access to the firepower that came with her heritage, and as it turned out, while she was dismal at controlling her Allure, she was exceptional at accessing the fire aspect.

The flame orbs replenished back to seven as Fleur exhaled out. “Sorry, boys, but it seems you will be retiring from the tournament,” she said.

Cedric and Harry groaned while they stood up, but their eye widened as they saw four rapidly spinning orbs of fire (two for each of them.)

Fleur was about to launch the fire orbs, but just a second before she could do that, Fleur felt jolt travel through her body, like a raging wave — the fire orbs extinguished, then her eyes rolled up before she collapsed down onto the ground — behind her stood Victor Krum, staring down at Fleur’s unconscious body.

A loud beep sounded from a distance. Cedric and Harry, who had taken the opportunity to get up along with Krum, looked in the direction; they knew the meaning of the sound — it was signaling the elimination of a champion from the tournament. They looked at the ground — it meant Fleur Delacour was now out of the running.

“And here I was worried about teaming up,” commented Cedric. He glanced at Harry, “We’re still a team, right?” Harry nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave Krum, who was watching them with an unblinking gaze, and Harry couldn’t say he enjoyed it.

Krum’s dull eyes turned to Harry for a while before he went back to Cedric and raised his wand, and launched a juiced-up Reducto straight at the Hufflepuff champion. Cedric’s eyes almost popped out at the intensity of the spell, and he pulled up yet another shield charm for protection, and on his side, Harry, as his temporary ally, transfigured the ground in front of Cedric, raising a chunk of it up to add yet another layer of obstruction.

“Uh-huh, buddy. Not so fast,” said Harry, “you’re not going to—.” He couldn’t continue as Krum ripped a lightning bolt towards him, which Harry barely dodged in time.

“Oh my god, that could’ve done a lot of damage!” yelled Harry.

“Alright, let’s take this guy out,” said Cedric, cracking his neck. The Reductor was a powerful one, powerful enough to rip him into pieces.

A very real-looking eye watched them from above.

. . .

Near the spectator area, Quinn sighed as he watched the three champions through the artificial eye.

‘Krum is under the Imperius,’ thought Quinn as he glanced at Moody/Bartry Jr.

His open eye twitched when the artificial eye picked up, Krum knocking out Cedric with a blow to the head — it was very violent. He sounded a loud beep to announce Cedric’s elimination as part of his duty.

“Well, only two champions are remaining,” announced Quinn, “Harry Potter and Victor Krum. Let’s see who’s going to come out on top. From the looks of it, Victor Krum has a strong possibility to win — that was one powerful Hammer hex.”

‘Now, let’s change the result of this tournament,’ thought Quinn as he stared at the illusion — the artificial eye and the illusion were two different entities — he could project anything he wanted — and that was what he was going to do.

The illusion seamlessly turned from the live footage to a fabricated version edited before being projected.

‘Let’s get the things going.’

And with that, he snapped his fingers.

. . .

Back with Krum and Harry, the two champions fought with spells being fired at each other.

Harry swung his wand in a bowling-ball throwing motion, and as he turned it in an arc, the ground beneath his wand bundled and bunched up into a spiked ball of metal — it was a transfiguration spell taught to him by his father, James Potter; a master in combat transfiguration.

Krum grunted and met the metal ball head-on with a charged dark spell. The two attacks met, and the metal ball melted into a ball of molten metal before turning into ash.

Harry growled, and silver spikes manifested around him. He was going to take Krum out and get this entire thing over with. But before he could do it, he saw Krum moving weirdly.

On Krum’s side, he was looking at his clothes, which began to morph — his arms were forced to move behind his back as his sleeves merged together. He could barely keep his legs from staying still as his pant legs were being pulled wide apart.

Harry didn’t know what was happening, but he saw the chance and directly shot a stunner to Krum’s face, immediately knocking him out.

“Huh,” he said and stared up at the sky just in time to hear the loud beep spread through the sky, “now, that’s what we are talking about.”

Harry ran stared at the three unconscious champions before running into one of the pathways.

“Holy shit! I’m going to win this one!”

He met nothing for ten minutes but kept running into dead ends. Twice he took the same wrong turning. Finally, he found a new route and started to jog along with it, his wand light waving, making his shadow flicker and distort on the hedge walls. Then he rounded another corner and found himself facing a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from Harry’s wand, which he pointed at it. “Stupefy! Damn it! Why now?! I’m about to win.”

The spell hit the skrewt’s armor and rebounded; Harry ducked just in time

but could smell burning hair; it had singed the top of his head. The skrewt

issued a blast of fire from its end and flew forward toward him.

“Impedimenta!” Harry yelled. The spell hit the skrewt’s armor again and ricocheted off; Harry staggered back a few paces and fell over. “IMPEDIMENTA!”

The skrewt was inches from him when it froze — he had managed to hit it on its fleshy, shell-less underside. Panting, Harry pushed himself away from it and ran, hard, in the opposite direction — the Impediment Curse was not permanent; the skrewt would be regaining the use of its legs at any moment.

He took a left path and hit a dead end, a right, and hit another; forcing himself to stop, heart hammering, he performed the Four-Point Spell again, backtracked, and chose a path that would take him northwest.

Every so often, he hit more dead ends, but the increasing darkness made him feel sure he was getting near the heart of the maze. He had to be close now, he had to be. . . .

. . .

Quinn’s artificial eye followed after Harry, and he was back to projecting the live feed.

“Look at that! Harry Potter is on the final stretch! So exciting! People, watch closely! This is the end of the Tri-wizard tournament,” his voice was full of excitement, but the expression was anything but.

He knew where Harry was heading. He glanced at Dumbledore; the headmaster was watching the scene with a smile under his long beard.

‘Yes, keep it watching.’

In the original timeline, no one knew what was happening in the maze, so the judges had no idea about the progress, but Quinn had provided them with the live progress with him here. Everyone would see Harry being portkey-ed away, but when Harry doesn’t arrive at the starting point, doubts will arise, and Quinn was sure that Dumbledore would pick on that.

‘You better pull your weight, Dumbledore,’ thought Quinn.

He didn’t like the choice he had taken to let Harry go on to meet Babymort, which would most definitely result in the revival of Voldemort. . .

‘But, it has to be done,’ he thought, ‘it’s the only for sure way to make sure that there’s a chance.’

“Ah, he’s on the final long pathway,” announced Quinn, “just a little bit more and Harry Potter would be cro—”

Everyone in the stands was watching the projection. The entire Hogwarts student body was already cheering, but then suddenly, the projection vanished into thin air. There was an immediate reaction of displeasure, and they heard that the commentary had also gone silent.

Every single person looked at Quinn, and he was standing still, staring up at the sky.

“Mr. West,” called out Dumbledore, “what—”

His words were cut when Quinn leaned forward and collapsed on the ground.

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Quinn West – MC(Status: Unknown) – It was the only way to make sure. . . .

Peter Pettigrew – Barty Crouch Senior – Calm down. I’ll make do with imagining the beheading.

Fleur Delacour – Spelled in the back – Fire-blessed Veela.

Cedric Diggory – Knocked out – Blunt force damage.

Victor Krum – Imperius-ed – But why was he Imperius-ed?

Harry Potter – Tri-wizard winner – Holy shit, I really won!

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