However, Wika's speed was astonishingly fast for something so massive and seemingly cumbersome!
Its enormous body rudely squeezed through the narrow passage behind Harry with relentless determination, the thick hedge walls on both sides were even creaking under the strain. Branches snapped with sharp cracks, leaves tore free in clumps, and broken wood came clattering down in a shower, raining debris on the path below.
Harry glanced back over his shoulder, somewhat panicked.
This Treant was taking this challenge a bit too seriously! It seemed genuinely intent on catching him!
His mind raced frantically, cycling through every spell he knew, trying to think of some kind of plan that didn't end with him flattened like a pancake.
He understood the formidable defensive capabilities of Treants—their seemingly ordinary bark was comparable to a dragon's scales and hide, perhaps even more durable, possessing extremely strong magical resistance.
He'd seen Professor Westeros demonstrate it once, firing Stunning Spells at Bart that had simply bounced off harmlessly.
What was even worse, was that Treants didn't have obvious defensive weak points like dragons did—no vulnerable mouth to aim for, no eyes to blind, no underbelly where the scales were thinner and more penetrable.
Therefore, the Impediment Jinx would be completely useless against such a creature, and most offensive spells would likely have minimal effect on such a massive behemoth.
However, plants all had one glaring, universal weakness that Harry remembered from Herbology: fire.
But ordinary flames probably wouldn't work effectively on the thick-skinned, magically-resistant Wika, though. A simple Incendio would be like trying to burn down an oak tree with a candle.
Come to think of it, he had recently found a spell for controlling and intensifying fire in Adrian's old notebook, the one he'd been allowed to borrow for private study.
Harry gripped his wand tightly with sweaty fingers, forcing himself to focus despite his pounding heart that felt like it might burst from his chest. The incantation ran through his mind. He needed to get this right.
He pointed his wand at the ground, planted his feet firmly in a dueling stance, and shouted loudly with all the conviction and magical intent he could muster: "Incendio Fiendo!"
In that instant, flames erupted from the earth itself and soared skyward with a tremendous roar that drowned out all other sound.
The violent magical energy surging from his wand tip, drawn from deep within his core, transformed into a dazzling golden-red firestorm that filled the entire passage from wall to wall and floor to sky, completely separating Harry from the pursuing Treant with a wall of intense heat.
The temperature spiked intensely. Harry felt his face flush from the warmth.
The raging flames burned wildly and hungrily, crackling and popping, reaching so high they nearly seemed to set the very sky blazing above the maze walls. The heat was incredible, almost unbearable, even from where Harry stood several feet away.
The orange and gold light casted shadows on the hedge walls, making them seem alive.
Yet even so, despite their ferocity and hunger, the flames obediently remained within a limited, controlled area that Harry's will defined, not spiraling out of control or spreading to consume the entire maze as wild fire might.
Wika, which had been pursuing him relentlessly, abruptly skidded to a halt.
Even with only a wooden head and limited intelligence, even with its simple thought processes, it could clearly tell that the flames in front of it were anything but simple garden fire, and rushing blindly into them wouldn't be a wise choice at all.
Forget it, Retreat.
Bart had already instructed all the Treants clearly before the competition: to intercept and challenge those entering the maze while ensuring their own safety above all else.
Wika silently turned its body around and left.
Harry had already bolted in the opposite direction the very instant the wall of fire rose, not waiting around to see if it would hold or if Wika would try to go around it. His legs pumped furiously, carrying him deeper into the maze's passages.
Only after running flat-out for a full minute, his lungs screaming, and confirming that Wika truly wasn't pursuing anymore did he finally slow his desperate pace slightly and allowed himself to catch his breath.
He bent over, hands on his knees, gasping. His heart was hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape.
Meanwhile, in the crowded spectator stands outside the maze, the atmosphere was absolutely electric with excitement and tension.
The massive crowd had witnessed this entire scene through the large magical light screen—the firestorm had been so intense and bright it had even caused the magical signal to flicker and distort briefly, the image was wavering like a reflection in disturbed water.
For a moment, some people thought the screen had broken, that they'd lost the feed.
After a long moment of stunned, shocked silence, booming exclamations and excited discussions erupted throughout the stands like an explosion!
People were on their feet, shouting, pointing at the screen.
"Did you see that?!"
"That fire!"
"How did he do that?!"
"That was... that was Harry's magic?" Mrs. Weasley in the front row gasped, covering her mouth in complete disbelief.
She instinctively clutched her husband's arm tightly.
Her heart had nearly leapt into her throat when she'd first seen that terrifying wooden behemoth appear behind Harry on the screen, chasing him through the passages. She'd let out a small scream.
Arthur looked equally shocked, but he quickly recovered his composure. He squeezed his wife's trembling hand reassuringly, trying to calm her.
"Merlin's beard... Yes, Molly, it's Harry! That boy..." He shook his head in amazement. "When did he learn such incredibly powerful magic? Did Dumbledore personally teach him? That wasn't any ordinary fire spell I've ever seen!"
He paused, his expression becoming more serious as memory surfaced.
"I've seen that kind of flame before," He said softly to his wife. "Many years ago, during the first war, before you and I were married. Dumbledore used this very magic against a group of Death Eaters who'd been trapped in a burning building in Diagon Alley. It saved lives that night. Burned through their shields like they were paper."
His voice held a mixture of awe and concern.
This was a powerful, legendary flame that could even burn underwater.
At that moment, Dumbledore, seated in the judges' stand with an excellent view of everything, also felt somewhat surprised.
He leaned forward slightly in his chair.
He was absolutely certain he had never personally taught Harry Potter this particular advanced spell.
Needless to say, it must have been Adrian's doing.
He began to feel slightly concerned.
When a young person possessed great power, especially destructive power of this magnitude—the choices they faced became far more important than the power itself.
Power itself had no inherent good or evil nature, no moral alignment. It was a tool, nothing more. But the manner in which power was wielded, the choices made about when and how to use it, the ease with which someone reached for force—that defined its wielder.
His concern wasn't about Harry's current intentions or character—he had never doubted that particular boy's kindness, courage, and good heart for even a moment.
What concerned him was habit—that Harry might gradually grow accustomed to solving problems in intense, nearly destructive ways, reaching for overwhelming force first rather than exploring other solutions, just as he had done with the dragon in the Triwizard Tournament's first task.
"Harry's performing remarkably well, isn't he?" Madame Maxime turned to Ludo beside her. "Very impressive for one so young. Such power!"
"Ah... yes, quite impressive," Ludo replied absently, barely looking at the screen, as if something heavy weighed on his mind.
His response was automatic, distracted, his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. It was a stark contrast to his enthusiastic state at the opening ceremony.
Dumbledore naturally noticed his agitated condition keenly. He narrowed his eyes slightly.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Adrian hadn't seen Harry's spectacular firestorm performance at all, which was rather unfortunate.
He was currently walking in circles around the maze's outer perimeter in growing boredom, occasionally checking his pocket watch and counting the minutes, waiting alertly for any red distress signals that might be sent up from within the hedges.
So far, there was nothing.
Just quiet night air, the distant murmur of crowd noise, and the occasional hoot of an owl.
The patrol was boring.
"Professor McGonagall, has anyone called for help yet?" He asked as a familiar stern figure approached from the opposite direction on the patrol route.
This was the third time he'd encountered Professor McGonagall on the same circular route during his circuits. They were like clockwork.
"All is well so far," Professor McGonagall replied crisply, pushing up her glasses with one finger, her expression remaining stern and focused.
Her sharp gaze alertly scanned the dark surroundings, missing nothing, checking the hedge walls for any signs of damage or disturbance. "The champions seem to be managing adequately. Continue patrolling, Professor Westeros. If you discover anything unusual—"
Her words cut off abruptly mid-sentence, as her gaze suddenly found something on the ground near the maze's outer edge. "Wait just a moment. What is that?"
Adrian followed her line of sight curiously, stepping closer.
On the ground was a large puddle of indescribable, viscous substance that looked absolutely disgusting.
In the pale moonlight, it appeared a dark red and charred black color, mixed with shattered fragments that looked like carapace or exoskeleton pieces. It was still steaming slightly with wisps of vapor rising into the air.
The smell was atrocious of burnt meat and sulfur.
'Isn't this a Blast-Ended Skrewt?' Adrian thought with surprise and some amusement.
Adrian was slightly startled, barely recognizing the thoroughly destroyed corpse before him. It had been completely pulverized, reduced to this sorry state.
How did it get all the way out here, so far from the maze interior? It must have been thrown with considerable force.
"It's one of Hagrid's little pets," Adrian told Professor McGonagall with some amusement in his voice, gesturing at the remains. "Someone probably threw it out of the maze. Quite forcefully, by the looks of it. Must have sailed right over the hedge walls. Um... perhaps Harry did it. Or possibly one of the Treants got annoyed with it."
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned in disapproval, though whether at the mess or at Hagrid's choice of "pets" was unclear.
She nodded once briskly, then pointed her wand at the filthy, disgusting mess without hesitation. "Scourgify."
A flash of white light, and the Blast-Ended Skrewt's remains vanished without a trace, leaving the grass clean and fresh-smelling.
After completing this task, Professor McGonagall returned immediately to her alert state. "Continue patrolling, Professor Westeros. We must remain—"
Her words hadn't even fallen when a silvery-white bird suddenly appeared out of thin air before them both with a soft sound, accompanied by a piercing, melodious cry.
It was Fawkes!
Dumbledore's Patronus!
Adrian instantly became alert, his casual demeanor vanished in a second. His hand went automatically to his wand, gripping it.
For Dumbledore to send his Patronus to deliver a message during the task, it must be extremely urgent.
Had something serious happened?
The next instant, a calm and clear voice belonging to Dumbledore entered directly into Adrian's and Professor McGonagall's minds simultaneously.
"Adrian, Minerva, come to the judges' stand immediately. There's an emergency."
Once the message was delivered, the shining phoenix Patronus didn't immediately disappear. Instead, it looked at both of them with intelligent, knowing eyes, as if confirming the message had been properly received and understood, before finally dissolving gradually into a wisp of light that dissipated slowly in the air.
Adrian and Professor McGonagall exchanged quick, concerned glances, both their faces showing worry and tension.
"Let's go quickly," Professor McGonagall's voice was tense, urgent.
Adrian and Professor McGonagall returned to the maze entrance at top speed, practically running across the grounds.
However, to their considerable surprise and growing confusion, despite Dumbledore saying clearly there was an emergency, everything at the scene appeared completely normal.
Nothing seemed out of place.
The audience remained comfortably seated in the stands, discussing vigorously with their gazes fixed on the large light screens showing the champions' progress through the maze.
They were cheering and booing, completely absorbed.
Not a single person seemed aware of any emergency. There was no panic. No disturbance.
The judges' stand also seemed calm on the surface. Madame Maxime and Ludo were talking about something, though Ludo's complexion didn't look particularly good.
Dumbledore noticed the two arrivals almost immediately.
He quickly and silently rose from his seat in the judges' stand, and walked directly toward Adrian and Professor McGonagall.
They had just reached the entrance area and were looking around with confusion for signs of trouble.
"Albus, what happened?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently in a low voice the moment he was close enough, keeping her tone quiet so as not to alarm anyone nearby.
Her gaze quickly swept the surroundings once more, confirming there was no obvious disturbance or threat she could detect. "The emergency is...? I don't see anything wrong. No one's injured? The champions are safe?"
Adrian said nothing yet, instead calmly watched Dumbledore's face, reading his expression and body language carefully.
Dumbledore didn't answer immediately. Instead, he first used an extremely subtle gesture of his head to signal the two to move slightly away from the crowd and the judges' stand.
The three walked to a relatively secluded corner behind one of the large supply tents that had been erected for equipment storage.
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