Adrian and Dumbledore searched the courtyard for several tense minutes, casting complex detection spells, illuminating the darkness with brief flashes of light.
They found only a wand broken cleanly into two pieces—likely the unfortunate result of the caster forcibly using an incompatible wand that violently rejected them.
The pieces lay scattered in the damp grass, still faintly warm to the touch when Adrian picked them up.
Undoubtedly, this was left behind by one of the intruders, hastily abandoned when it became useless and started fighting against its temporary wielder.
Faint traces of a Disillusionment Charm still lingered on the broken wand fragments, barely visible magical residue that shimmered like oil on water when viewed from certain angles.
Adrian turned the pieces over in his hands, examining them closely. "Hawthorn wood," he murmured. "Nine inches. The owner must have been desperate to use it."
Unfortunately, aside from this single clue, there were absolutely no other discoveries at the scene that would help identify the intruders—no dropped items, no distinctive footprints in the soft earth that had been magically smoothed, nothing that would indicate who had arrived or where they'd gone after appearing.
The Intruders were quite thorough. They'd covered their tracks well.
Adrian also questioned Nearly Headless Nick, who had been wandering aimlessly in the corridor nearby, drifting peacefully through a solid stone wall.
"Oh, Professor Westeros! Professor Dumbledore! Good evening to you both!" Nick said cheerfully, floating closer, before noticing their grim expressions and drawn wands. "Is something wrong? You both look distressed."
"Did you see anyone arrive here in the past hour?" Adrian asked urgently, stepping closer to the ghost. "Anyone at all? Living people?"
Nick's pale face creased in thought, his head wobbling on his nearly-severed neck.
"There was some very strange commotion—several people, certainly—well, I didn't see them clearly, mind you, just some shadows appearing here quite suddenly out of nowhere, then disappearing almost immediately into the castle.
Um... I initially thought possibly some students out after hours, you know, as ghosts we often discover students breaking curfew rules at night. Happens all the time, really, especially during tournament excitement." Nearly Headless Nick explained helpfully, gesturing with his hand toward the castle entrance.
Dumbledore's expression was grave and deeply troubled, clearly unconcerned about which students Nearly Headless Nick might typically be referring to.
Meanwhile, deep inside the maze, completely unaware of the chaos erupting outside or the danger closing in.
The maze had been set with special sound-dampening barriers and powerful isolation enchantments, so the champions hadn't noticed the disturbance outside at all.
Harry had unexpectedly gotten lost in the maze's twisting, identical passages—this was the fifth time he'd appeared at the exact same crossroads with that distinctive faded copper bell hanging there, looking like mocking him.
He stared at it in growing frustration, resisting the urge to hex it.
He was absolutely certain something was wrong with this maze—some kind of directional confusion spell had probably been cast, deliberately twisting the paths to make navigation impossible.
The Point Me spell, usually so reliable, had suddenly and mysteriously lost its effectiveness.
When he tried using the Point Me spell, muttering the incantation, his wand spun lazily and uselessly like a half-dead spinning top, drawing meaningless circles in his palm.
"Can I only rely on instinct now?" Harry sighed muttering to himself with growing frustration.
He wondered if the other three champions had found the correct path to the center where the Cup waited, or if they were equally lost and wandering.
It was also strange and somewhat unnerving that he hadn't encountered anyone else in the maze at all, hadn't even heard any distant sounds of combat or spells being cast—perhaps the maze was astonishingly large, or perhaps the others had found completely different routes through the passages.
After turning into yet another familiar intersection, recognizing the same distinctive bent branch with a sinking feeling, Harry paused slightly.
On the hedge wall to his right, a dark hole had suddenly appeared, about half a person's height and irregularly shaped.
The edges of this opening were extremely ragged and irregular, as if torn open by some tremendous force or explosive spell, the hedge material was burnt and twisted.
Moonlight shone through from the other side.
On the other side of the hole was the dark, forbidding Forbidden Forest—this was a wall section closest to the outer perimeter of the maze.
Someone had entered! Broken in from outside!
He was absolutely certain the hole hadn't been there when he'd passed by this spot earlier—he would have noticed something so obvious and out of place.
Harry knew from Professor Westeros's explanations that although the maze walls appeared to be ordinary hedges, they were extremely difficult to damage, reinforced with powerful protective enchantments that could withstand most spells.
If it were a normal person or a competitor, they would probably choose to enter through the proper entrance rather than going to such great lengths to tear a large hole in the magically reinforced wall.
So, without a doubt, whoever had entered the maze had broken in without permission or authorization.
This wasn't right.
And there was definitely more than one person—a mess of fresh footprints covered the muddy ground just beyond the hole, overlapping each other in different sizes, at least four or five sets.
Perhaps this was part of the competition? Some new unexpected challenge that had been arranged?
After thinking for a moment, weighing his options, Harry decided to follow the footprints on the ground—the intruders hadn't bothered to hide their tracks at all, which seemed careless.
To be safe, he also cast a careful Disillusionment Charm on himself.
While following the footprints cautiously through the passages, moving slowly and checking corners, Harry encountered numerous creature corpses scattered along the path: a large Acromantula crushed completely flat like a stepped-on bug, several Boggarts lying motionless in their true forms, and most disturbing of all, a magnificent Sphinx with a beautiful human head and lion body that loved all kinds of puzzles, riddles, and word games.
But clearly, the wizard who had encountered it had absolutely no interest in riddles or playing intellectual games.
The Sphinx lay quietly on its side in the middle of the narrow path, its posture very peaceful, almost serene, as if sleeping. Its eyes were closed.
Only when Harry approached cautiously and knelt beside it, his hand trembling, did he discover it had stopped breathing.
Strangely, there were no visible wounds on its body—no cuts, no burns, no signs of struggle or defense.
Just death.
For some reason, when he saw that beautiful corpse, Harry suddenly felt a deep chill run up his spine like ice water splashing, making him shiver.
This was slaughter.
Murder.
Before the chill could fade, before he could process what he was seeing or what it meant, suddenly from around the corner ahead in the maze passage came a series of hurried and chaotic footsteps!
Heavy breathing. Someone running fast.
Harry immediately pressed himself flat against the hedge wall, pointing his wand steadily toward the source of the sound with both hands. The effect of the Disillusionment Charm made him almost completely blend into the shadows.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
The next moment, a figure came stumbling desperately around the corner, and nearly falling, caught himself against the wall.
It was Krum!
His face bore a terror Harry had never seen before, his eyes were wide with fear and horror. His Durmstrang-style robes were covered with mud and several tears, one sleeve was nearly ripped completely off, exposing his arm.
Blood ran from a cut on his forehead.
He had clearly encountered serious trouble!
Krum was running for his life, not even noticing the invisible Harry pressed against the wall beside him, too focused on escape and survival he was.
"Viktor! What's happening here?" Harry revealed himself quickly, dropping the charm with a gesture, instinctively calling out to his fellow champion.
Krum paused for just a moment, his body jerked as he looked back at Harry with shock and recognition.
"Run! Harry! Run now!" He shouted hoarsely, his voice cracking with fear and urgency.
Although Harry didn't know exactly what had happened, didn't understand the full situation, he was willing to trust Krum's panicked judgment based on his expression alone.
Just as he was about to follow Krum's lead and sprint away with him...
From the dark passage behind them, a thick, seemingly alive gray-black fog surged forward like a tidal wave, rolling along the ground and walls with unnatural speed.
Harry reacted quickly, his training kicking in, immediately waving his wand in a sharp arc.
"Ventus!" He shouted with force.
He summoned a strong, powerful wind, trying to disperse the strange, unnatural fog that was approaching.
Unfortunately, the fog only stirred slightly. Not only did it not dissipate or blow away, but as if angered by his attempt, as if it were conscious, it instantly accelerated and enveloped both Harry and Krum in its cold embrace.
This was getting seriously troublesome!
Harry's heart sank as he could barely see anything in this thick, choking mist.
It was like being underwater or blind.
Even Krum, who had been right next to him just seconds ago, was now just a vague, indistinct outline in the gray.
"Viktor?" Harry called out.
Then, something even more terrifying happened.
A green light tore through the fog without any warning, accompanied by death's shriek, shooting straight at Harry's face with deadly intent!
The Killing Curse!
Harry's pupils contracted sharply in recognition and pure terror. Almost without conscious thinking, his body lunged sideways and backward in a desperate dive, hitting the ground hard.
That dazzling, green light grazed his scalp, so close he felt his hair move and scorch, and struck the hedge wall behind him with a solid thud.
Damn it! That was close!
Harry rolled clumsily on the ground, his shoulder hitting something hard, his heart pounding so violently it felt like it would burst from his chest. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.
This was definitely not one of the maze's obstacles!
No matter what, the Triwizard Tournament would never, ever allow anyone to use Unforgivable Curses on the champions. This was attempted murder.
Harry scrambled to his feet, looking around desperately through the fog.
In the thick mist, he could vaguely make out several twisted, wavering shadows moving.
Then, from within the fog came a hoarse, muffled man's voice, angry and frustrated.
"That's Harry Potter! See clearly, you fool! The Dark Lord's orders are specific... we need him alive! Alive! Not dead!"
Another voice responded, sharper, unmistakably female, filled with uncontrollable fervor. "Capture him! Present him to the Dark Lord!!"
'Damn!' Harry's mind raced, putting it together.
These people were coming specifically for him!
Death Eaters!
This was planned!
Then without a doubt, the only correct choice right now was...
"Run!" Harry shouted to Krum, who had frozen in shock nearby, his face pale.
The two instantly burst into their fastest speed, sprinting in the opposite direction from where the curses were coming, their feet pounding the earth, breath coming in gasps.
The cold, unnatural mist clung to their heels like grasping hands, constantly filled with the Death Eaters' frustrated shouts and the whooshing sounds of more Dark curses cutting through the air behind them.
"There!"
"After them!"
"Don't let Potter escape!"
"The boy is fast!"
Green light and red light continuously tore through the thick fog, striking the hedge walls on both sides, leaving scorched, smoking marks and burning holes.
A curse missed Harry by inches, making him feel its terrible heat against his cheek.
Another curse hit the ground where he'd been standing a second ago, leaving a crater.
Fortunately, their desperate escape speed was much faster than the Dark wizards pursuing behind them, who seemed slowed by their own fog or perhaps by their heavier robes.
After turning countless corners frantically, taking random paths, left then right then left again, the two temporarily shook off their pursuers.
They stopped in a dead end, gasping for air, and doubled over.
Harry asked Krum breathlessly, bent over with hands on his knees, "Who exactly are they??"
"Not sure," Krum panted, still shaken, his face pale and sweating. His hands were trembling.
This was more thrilling and terrifying than any Quidditch match he'd ever played; more dangerous than any opponent he'd faced.
"They suddenly appeared from the fog like ghosts... their methods were extremely evil! Dark magic I've never seen in my life! Unforgivable Curses without hesitation! Harry, where are we now? Can we still find a way out of this cursed maze?"
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