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HP Chapter 99: The Third Task
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 13:38:44 +0000 UTC“I…” Anne’s mind was racing. A million thoughts flashed through her head. She looked at Hermione, opened her mouth to speak, but only a single syllable escaped before she lowered her gaze and fell silent.
Neither of them spoke. The sunlight grew more golden and dim, casting longer and longer shadows behind them.
“Anne, you should head to the greenhouse,” Hermione said, breaking the silence. She was smiling, as if nothing had ever been asked.
Anne looked up in surprise. Hermione’s smile was gentle, and there wasn’t a trace of judgment in her voice, she didn’t seem bothered at all that Anne hadn’t answered.
“This is like that time in France, right? One of those secrets you can’t talk about?” Hermione said, still smiling. “If that’s the case, I won’t ask anymore.”
Looking at Hermione, Anne felt a surge of emotion well up inside her. She had so many ways to avoid the question, but none of them felt right. She didn’t want to lie, not to Hermione. Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe, on some instinctive level, she simply couldn’t lie to her.
And now Hermione had chosen not to press. At that moment, Anne had the sudden urge to throw her arms around her.
But she didn’t. She just stood there, stunned, watching Hermione smiling so peacefully in the golden light, as if nothing at all had happened. The image seared itself into Anne’s memory.
“…What if I try to change something, and it still ends badly?” Anne asked, after a pause.
“Anne,” Hermione replied, “if it’s someone you know, someone you’ve spoken to, shared things in common with, then trying to help them… that shouldn’t be a ‘what if’. That’s just what we do.”
Anne nodded slowly. So this is how Hermione saw it.
Everything after that was a blur. She vaguely remembered saying goodbye, and somehow she ended up walking to the greenhouse without realizing it.
Greenhouse Two housed dangerous magical plants. Typically, it required one or two older Hufflepuff students to tend to them.
Cedric Diggory was inside, pruning a plant with a pair of dragon-hide gloves and a protective mask. Anne hesitated at the door for a moment, then stepped inside and gestured for him to come out and talk.
Outside, Anne and Cedric stood facing each other. He was tall, around 6’1”, with striking features. Anne had once collected quite a few autographs from him for Fanny, who, in turn, had been collecting them for Cedric’s fans ahead of the Triwizard Tournament.
“Anne? What’s up?” Cedric asked in his usual kind voice, flashing a smile that could win over anyone.
Because of her love for magical plants, Anne often helped out in the greenhouses, and she’d known Cedric since her second year. They had always gotten along well, especially over their shared interest in Herbology.
Cedric, one of the brightest students from Hufflepuff, was destined to die after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Anne’s emotions were tangled. She had only just realized this fact a few days ago while trimming plants in the greenhouse, and it had silenced her when Harry had first brought it up that night.
These people, who were once just characters in movies and books (though she hadn’t read the books), now lived and breathed beside her. They took classes together, laughed together, talked about magical plants together. They were real.
Until now, Anne had kept her distance. She’d resolved not to interfere with the story, to let the plot unfold naturally, and to step away when the time came, to stay far from the battle between the protagonist and Voldemort.
But something had shifted.
Even if she didn’t want to admit it, something had changed that night while pruning plants. A memory struck her of that moment in the film. The third task. Death.
After that moment, and after her talk with Hermione, Anne finally understood: this wasn’t just a story anymore. It was her life. And life meant crossing paths with others.
Cedric was one of those people. And somehow, she’d failed to realize, had chosen not to realize, that his fate wasn’t just a plot point. It belonged to this Cedric, the real one who stood before her now, chatting with her, laughing, someone who had become a familiar part of her world.
“Cedric…” Anne said, recalling Hermione’s words. Her voice was serious. “The third task of the Triwizard Tournament… it’s dangerous. Dangerously so. People could die. Are you still going to compete?”
Cedric blinked. “What are you talking about, Anne? Death? Come on… it’s not that bad, is it?”
“I’m serious,” Anne pressed. “What if I asked you not to go?”
Cedric frowned slightly. “Anne… you’re serious?”
Anne nodded.
“I appreciate you, Anne. I really do. We’ve always connected over Herbology, and I think of you as a friend. But even so… I can’t back out. I won’t,” Cedric said firmly. “The Triwizard Tournament is dangerous, I know. The first task with the dragon nearly burned me to a crisp. But I was chosen by the Goblet of Fire. That alone means I can’t quit. And besides, it’s the Triwizard Tournament! It hasn’t been held in centuries. If I win this, Hufflepuff will finally earn the glory no other house has in hundreds of years.”
As he spoke, he stood taller, the prefect badge on his robes catching the light.
“There’s a thousand Galleons in prize money, too,” he added with pride. “It would mean the world to my family. My dad works at the Ministry, you can bet he’ll be proud if I bring home the cup. Right now, Harry and I are tied for first.”
Anne stared at his determined expression, momentarily speechless. After a pause, she asked quietly, “Even if it means risking your life?”
“Even then,” Cedric replied without hesitation. Then he smiled again. “Thanks for worrying about me, Anne.”
“…Okay. I understand,” Anne said softly, nodding. “Good luck.”
Cedric smiled again in thanks.
Anne turned to go, but after just two steps, she came back. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a small orb.
“Take this,” she said. “If you find yourself in danger during the third task, pull this pin and throw it. Just make sure your eyes are shut when you do, it’ll blind your opponent for a few seconds.”
Cedric’s eyes lit up with interest, but he shook his head. “Thank you, Anne, but I can’t accept that.”
“Oh, I know,” Anne said lightly. “You don’t want to compromise the fairness of the competition, right? Well, I gave one to Harry too. Turns out, I’ve got friends in both houses competing, and both tied for first place. Kind of cool, right?”
With that, she pressed the "flash bomb" into his hand and walked away.
Back at the castle, Anne’s first instinct was to find Hermione and tell her what she’d done, but she quickly realized that would defeat the point. She hadn’t actually said anything to Hermione. Still, Anne felt like Hermione already knew how she felt.
Strange, she thought, pausing mid-step on her way to the common room. Where did that idea come from?
But then again… Hermione had been understanding her more and more lately.
Was that a good thing?
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Exam week had arrived, and Anne had little time to dwell on anything else. She had to face the annual challenge that haunted her the most: Transfiguration.
Thankfully, she had Hermione, the ever-reliable academic powerhouse, to help her cram. Under Professor McGonagall’s stern gaze (or so Anne imagined it), she just barely passed.
Overjoyed, Anne decided to thank Hermione with a special meal she cooked herself in the Hogwarts kitchens, where the house-elves happily assisted. Even Fanny was left out of this private celebration, it was a meal like no other.
After the exams came what everyone had been waiting for: the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.
The school buzzed with excitement, except for one thing.
Rita Skeeter had published another scathing article in the Daily Prophet, this time targeting Harry’s scar.
Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter reports: The Boy Who Lived may be mentally unstable, and potentially dangerous. Startling evidence has come to light about Harry Potter’s erratic behavior, raising concerns over whether he is fit to compete in such a high-risk event, or even remain at Hogwarts at all…
The article accused Harry of faking episodes, being mentally unwell, and speaking Parseltongue, a dark magic ability. It implied he might use dark magic to win and questioned Dumbledore’s judgment in protecting him.
“Hey, Potter! How’s the head? Not about to go berserk on us, are you?”
Malfoy sneered across the breakfast table.
Fanny told Anne the whole story after breakfast.
“It’s so weird. How does she even know all this stuff?” Fanny wondered aloud.
“You said Hermione didn’t even finish her breakfast and stormed off? Did she have her bag?” Anne asked thoughtfully.
Fanny paused, then nodded. “Yeah… I think she did.”
“Then she’s headed to the library,” Anne said, her tone certain. “She’s probably already figured out how Rita Skeeter’s been eavesdropping.”
“What?! Just like that?” Fanny gasped.
Anne shrugged. “Maybe she’ll even catch her, tonight or tomorrow, if she gets lucky.”
“You know Rita’s secret too?” Fanny asked, surprised.
“Not really,” Anne replied. “But I’m sure Hermione’s determined to find out. Anyway, I have to finish reading. I won’t be going to the tournament tonight. We’re heading home tomorrow, and I need to return this book first thing.”
“What?! You’re skipping the final task?” Fanny said in disappointment.
A strange feeling flickered through Anne.
I just don’t want to see the ending unfold.
“I’m not that into the Triwizard Tournament,” Anne said plainly. “It’s a big deal for all of you, it hasn’t happened in ages. But for me… it doesn’t mean the same.”
“What do you mean you? We’re all at Hogwarts,” Fanny said.
Anne shook her head but didn’t argue further. She went back to her book.
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That evening, Anne and Fanny headed to the Great Hall for dinner. Just as they reached the entrance, they spotted Aaron chatting with Mr. Weasley.
Why are they here?
Standing beside Mr. Weasley were Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and, laughing, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
“Anne!” Aaron called, waving.
“Wanna say hi?” Anne asked Fanny.
Fanny hesitated, lowering her voice. “Who are those two redheads standing next to Ron?”
“That’s his mum and dad. No idea why they’re here today…” Anne replied.
Fanny’s expression shifted briefly, so fast Anne didn’t catch it.
“I’ll go on ahead. You chat,” Fanny said quickly, hurrying off.
“Uncle Aaron, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, good evening!” Anne greeted them politely.
Aaron chuckled, ruffling her hair. Mr. Weasley smiled back, and Mrs. Weasley said warmly, “Hello, Anne! Thanks to you, we haven’t gotten a single letter of complaint about Fred and George this term.”
Everyone laughed.
“Oh, you can’t give me credit for that,” Anne said playfully. “That’s just Fred and George being themselves, they’ve always been brilliant. People are just starting to notice.”
That made the Weasleys even more pleased.
“Hey, I heard someone complimenting me…” Fred’s voice chimed in as George bounded over.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Keep it coming!” George grinned.
Their shamelessness drew more laughter.
“Mum, Dad, what are you doing here?” Fred asked.
“We came to watch Harry’s final task, of course! The families of all Hogwarts champions were invited,” Mrs. Weasley beamed. “And thank goodness, I don’t have to cook tonight. By the way, how did your exams go?”
Anne didn’t catch the rest. The moment she heard that the champions’ families had come, her mind blanked.
She turned toward the Great Hall. The Hufflepuff table was near the entrance, where a tall, beaming Cedric stood surrounded by students. Two adult wizards stood beside him, they resembled him. His parents, no doubt.
So they all came.
“Anne?” A hand on her shoulder brought her back.
Aaron looked at her, puzzled.
Anne gave him a smile and said in a sweet, teasing voice, “I’m just hungry.”
The tables were already filling up with delicious food. Aaron didn’t question her. He patted her head and said warmly, “Haha, go eat, then. I’ll chat with Arthur a bit more.”
Anne nodded and walked toward the Slytherin table.
Her eyes stayed forward, but her peripheral vision remained on the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was surrounded by supporters from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Cho Chang stood among them, her gaze often meeting Cedric’s.
“Anne, your uncle came today and you’re still not going to watch the final task?” Fanny asked, trying once more to persuade her.
Anne shook her head firmly. “No.”
