Four weeks before the start of the third and final task Harry expected, and got, the request to join the Champions in the Entrance Hall to meet with Ludo Bagman.
From there, Bagman took them down to the Quidditch pitch which had, for the last two weeks, been surrounded by a barrier denying entrance to all. As they walked through the barrier and then started climbing the stairs into the stands, Bagman told them about how the third task would be held on the pitch of the Quidditch stadium.
Once they reached spectator height, Bagman, still nattering on, led them to look out over the pitch. Of course, Harry knew what to expect to see. However, the others did not.
When the ground of the pitch came into view Cedric gasped. "What have you done?" he exclaimed. "You've ruined it!"
"I assure you, Mister Diggory, that on completion of the task the pitch will be set to rights," Bagman almost snippily said.
"It's... sacrilege!" exclaimed Harry, getting into the mood of things.
"This vas the Hogworts Quidditch pitch, da?" asked Victor, staring at the ground.
"Da! Errr... yes!" said Cedric. "It is crime to do this to pitch," said Victor.
"I assure you all, the pitch will be returned to rights within a few days of the completion of the task," said Bagman. "Now, who can tell me..."
"A few days?" asked Cedric, interrupting and a little angry. "How?"
With an exasperated sigh, Bagman said, "The maze was planted... well, blast it all!"
"Clearly, eet eez a maze," said Fleur as if she thought Bagman was being an idiot. "But eet should be a Queedeetch peetch!"
"As I said, it will be put to rights after the task," said Bagman. "Now, in the maze..."
"You'll probably have dangerous creatures and magic traps, right?" said Harry. "And... what... first one to the middle or whatever wins?"
"The Tri-Wizard Cup will be in the maze somewhere," said Bagman. "The first person to reach it will win."
"Yeah, yeah," said Harry, giving a wave-off gesture with his hands. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, Mister Potter," said Bagman starting to grit his teeth a little.
"Frumos!" said Victor. "Now, vee leave; not... plăcut... pleasant... to see Quidditch pitch so... întinat... defiled."
"Defiled," said Cedric. "Yes... da... that fits."
"Fine!" snapped Bagman. "You now know what's required of you. I'll see you on the twenty-fourth of June!" And he stomped off.
"Hey, Useless!" called Harry. Surprisingly, Bagman turned around. "I'm glad to see you now recognise your new name! The Weasley Twins want their winnings from their bet at the Quidditch World Cup. You'd best pay up pretty quick. They can be veeerrry creative in their punishment of those who've wronged them!"
That had the other three laughing as Bagman glared at Harry for a moment before again stomping off.
As they walked back from the pitch, Victor and Fleur excused themselves and headed back to the ship and carriage respectively. Harry and Cedric walked together.
"Almost over, Harry," sighed Cedric. Clearly, he wanted to talk about things and was trying to find a way to bring up the subject.
"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm looking forward to summer, already."
"This is my last year," said the older boy. "I was looking forward, this year, to the match between the Badgers and Lions to show that I could beat you without a bunch of pesky dementors coming in and ruining everything."
Harry laughed and said, "You'd have been sadly..."
He stopped speaking as both boys saw Barty Crouch Senior stagger out of the forest. He was in bad shape. Harry mentally face-palmed himself for forgetting this event.
Immediately he drew his wand as Crouch staggered forward.
As Harry remembered, he looked as though he had been travelling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, and his face was scratched. He was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and moustache were both in need of a wash and trim.
His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Crouch turned and began talking to a tree.
"Isn't that Mister Crouch?" asked Cedric. "What's he doing?"
Harry nodded and said, "Go get help, Ced. I need the Professors down here. Possibly Madam Pomfrey, too. Hurry!" "Errr... right, Harry," replied the other boy. He took a couple of steps before he turned back. "Will you be alright here with him?"
Without taking his eyes of Crouch or the forest, Harry said, "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just go. Go fast!"
And Cedric took off running, again.
Crouch was still talking to the tree. "... and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve..."
"Mister Crouch," called Harry.
"... and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen. Do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..."
Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees.
"Mister Crouch?" Harry said loudly, hurrying over while keeping an eye on the treeline. "Are you all right?"
Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head.
"Dumbledore!" gasped Crouch suddenly. He reached out and seized a handful of Harry's robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Harry's head. "I need... see... Dumbledore..."
"Figured as much," said Harry. "If you get up, Mister Crouch, we can go up to the..." "I've done... stupid... thing..." Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must... tell... Dumbledore..."
"Get up, Mister Crouch," said Harry loudly and clearly. "Get up, and I'll take you to Dumbledore!"
Crouch's eyes rolled forward onto Harry.
"Who... you?" he whispered.
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