Within a few seconds, the brown, sandy ground of the arena is completely covered over, and murky water sloshes around at the base of the colosseum below them; by the time it stops flowing, Harry knows it would be over even Cedric's head. Something to give the champions a softer fall, Harry supposes - or something worse to hide a monster in.

The platform is perhaps forty feet in the air, and looking down, Harry can see the rapt audience filling the stands, their eyes staring up at the four champions in the air above them. The platforms are stable, hovering in place with a few feet between them, and from a distance Harry expects they might look like a rounded, magical staircase, but up close the gaps are far from easy with just a step.

For a few moments, there is silence - even the crowd below are quiet, and Harry and Cedric remain frozen in the centre of their platform, glancing to look up to Krum and down to Fleur on their own.

Harry's grip on his wand is tight as he tries to think, tries to think what Bagman could possibly have done - someone heading into the Forbidden Forest, what could that mean? Flitwick's height---

"Duck!" Cedric yells, and he grabs Harry by the shoulder to pull him down into a crouch as a ball of flame whistles but an inch over his head. It heads straight for Krum, but before it can come to him he snaps out an incantation Harry doesn't recognize and the ball bursts into several dozen shards of burning metal. As they fall down to arena below, they hit the water and hiss with steam.

"They're like Bludgers on fire," Harry says, and thoughts of whatever Bagman's scheme is fade away: he has to focus on the task at hand. "Reducto!" This one shatters right before their faces, and Harry and Cedric both lean away, shielding their faces. The air around them is lit up with streaming flame, and he and Cedric share a look before they begin to move.

The leap between platforms isn't an easy one, but Harry can do it while keeping his balance so long as he braces his legs as he lands, and he keeps on the move. Cedric is doing the same on another hovering shelf in the air, and Harry casts as quickly as he can, throwing spells to blow the Bludgers up, the freeze them, to douse their flames - he tries to Transfigure one into something softer, but the spell doesn't take, and Harry has to drop like a stone to keep it from hitting him right in the chest.

He can hear the others moving, throwing spells and curses into the damn things and jumping from shelf to shelf, but he can't spare a glance in anyone else's direction as he focuses on the singing projectiles in the air. He takes a running jump up to the next platform, where Krum and Cedric are back to back, and he joins them so that all of their shoulders are touching and each of them faces outwards.

"I'm going to try something," Harry yells to be heard over the hiss and squeal of metal and flames in the air, and he feels Krum and Cedric stiffen slightly behind him, in readiness. Harry throws out a magical shield, and as the next Bludger passes through the silver sheen of its sphere-shaped influence in the air, its enchantments are dispelled. It drops to the ground and rolls harmlessly from the side of the platform, and many others do the same, like hail made from steel.

Obviously, of course, that's only the first challenge of the day.

They have to keep moving, after that - gusts of magical wind throw them off balance and tremors hit hard against the shelves they stand on; pixies fly through the air throwing enchanted bombs that are intended to hit them with curses; huge walls of flame unexpectedly fly up between platforms, forcing them to dodge back and nearly fall straight to the arena below.

It all seems so minor, Harry thinks as he's thrown back from a platform and lands on his back on the one below: it winds him, making him drag in desperate, slightly wheezing breaths from his place on his back, and he pulls himself to his feet. They're forced to run one way and then another, but it's all a test of agility, nothing else. And then--

Harry feels like he should hear something as the lowest shelf crumbles underneath Viktor Krum, but he doesn't hear anything at all - Krum had been midway through a stumble, and he falls without being able to throw himself in another direction. Harry hears Fleur cast a spell to slow his progress so that he doesn't hit the water too hard, and then he hears Bagman announce that Krum is out of the running.

Harry sees Krum in his peripheral vision as he swims to the edge of the arena and pulls himself into the stands, and then he has to focus on the task again.

"Our Champions are next to face some monsters!" Bagman says, his voice echoing over the grounds of Hogwarts, but there's an awkward quaver in his voice. Harry freezes in his place, looking down to Bagman. He shares a glance with Cedric, and then he feels his stomach leave him.

He drops to a crouch on the shelf he's on as he flies downwards at speed, and there's an almighty splash of water in every direction as he lands upon the surface of the water. He's still on the platform, and it hasn't fallen away from him, so no one declares that he's out of the competition, but the other platforms are still hovering above him.

"Harry!" Cedric calls. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Harry yells back. He braces himself, holding his wand outward as he turns slowly in the centre of the platform; the next shelf hovers ten or twelve feet above him, and he'll need Cedric to help him up if he's to climb to one of the higher platforms again.

Above him, he hears a yell from Fleur, and when he glances up, he sees- what is that? A Dementor? But no, no, it's not - her Patronus doesn't cause it to cry out, but makes it almost shrivel as it shrinks away. It looks like a black cloth flying in the sky above him - a Lethifold.

He hears a caw, and something throws Cedric down - something Harry can't see, but that Cedric apparently can. He lets out a sharp hiss of pain as his sleeve is ripped open, and Harry sees the blood drip at the cut on his forearm. The creatures that attack Fleur and Cedric don't come down lower - it's as if they're enchanted to stay above the stands where the audience sits, but if that's the case, why drop a platform down like this?

He conjures a knotted rope, throwing it far above his head to attach it to the nearest platform over his head. He isn't entirely certain of it - he's never conjured rope in order to climb it, and he tests it a few times with his whole weight before he puts his wand between his teeth and grabs hold of the first length of rope before him. He presses his knees tightly together, using them to climb as much as his tightly gripping fists, and he pulls himself upwards. It makes his arms ache terribly, as he isn't used to climbing like this, but he knows full well he won't be able to levitate himself or something similar, and so he keeps himself on the rise.

There's perhaps a foot between him and the ledge of the shelf when a knife flies through the air and slices thickly through the rope. He grabs his wand from his mouth as he falls, but he isn't fast enough to actually cast something, and he lands hard on his chest on the circle of dirt beneath him.

He groans, pulling himself up and wiping the dirt from his chest. He's going to have bruises, Harry knows, but it's the least of his concerns at the moment - he turns his head in the direction the knife had come from, and he sees a group of goblins sat together, a little behind Bagman. Members of the crowd are examining Harry closely, looking at him with concern and perplexity, but Bagman doesn't announce what had happened - he's focusing on Cedric and Fleur.

Harry leans down, grabbing the knife that had been thrown - it's made of silver and as sharp as anything, with a hilt made of some kind of bone. He holds it in his hand, feeling the weight of it, looking at its eight-inch length - this can't possibly be within the rules of the tournament, and why the Hell would they want to do that anyway?

Goblins. Harry glances up to the teachers' stands - barring Snape, who is keeping his eyes only on Harry, the teachers are all focused on Cedric, including Flitwick. Flitwick's lips are moving fast as he talks with Sprout, the two of them leaning right forwards on their benches.

Flitwick is about the height of a goblin.

There's a sudden splintering of wood at the side of the arena, throwing shards of the gate in every direction, and Harry's head isn't the only one to whip in the direction of the wooden explosion. Harry breathes heavily as smoke rises away from the destroyed gate, obscuring his view of what comes through, and when Harry sees it, everything clicks into place.

The goblins, Bagman, the Forbidden Forest, the falling of his platform, and he hears the truth of it ringing in his ears as much as he hears the water rushing away through the break in the arena. "Cedric!" Harry yells, "Cedric, Fleur, just- I need to get up there!" He sees the silhouette of it first, and then it pushes forwards through the grey smoke, the sunshine glinting off its silvery-green scales and the sick, shiny scar-scabs where its eyes ought have been. Black venom oozes from its sharpest teeth as its tongue darts forwards, tasting the air and looking for Harry - and he hears it hiss, "Kill..."

Harry is hit suddenly by the spell, and he feels awkward and out of place as Fleur fucking Summons him up to the next platform. He grabs hold of her arm as he lands on his feet, nearly stumbling, and she squeezes his arm tightly.

The basilisk slowly moves forwards and into the arena as water streams past it and out onto the grass of the hill outside; Harry can hear the soft sound of its scales rubbing against each other, its hissing, the dart of its tongue - and when its tongue darts out, its head shifts abruptly towards Harry and Fleur.

"'Ow is that?" Fleur whispers. "It can 'ear you?"

"No," Harry says. "No, fuck, no- it can smell me." When Harry looks at it, he sees the scrap of fabric hanging from the side of the gigantic snake's mouth, black fabric - Harry's robe from that morning. Not a prank by the lads, but one of those goblins--- "Fleur, get to the next platform - don't stay on the same one as me." She lingers, obviously not wanting to do so, but she reluctantly steps backwards and throws herself up to the next shelf.

The basilisk draws itself up like a cobra, its huge length enabling it to meet Harry's height. The hide of the basilisk is resistant to most spells, Harry knows - any creature born of magic usually has a special resistance, so what is he supposed to do? Harry looks down to the knife in his hand - an enchanted knife, of goblin make.

"Is this what you want?" Harry hisses. "You just want to kill me, is that it?"

"You blinded me, lying child!" He can hear the rage in the basilisk's voice as it sways, as he looks directly into its face. "I will kill you. I have wanted for ssso long-"

"What will that do? You'll just die! You're the only basilisk anybody's ever really heard of, and after you kill me, you'll just die! Let me help you, let me get you-" He's desperate to say anything that will stop the thing short, make it stop - he doesn't want to kill it, not really, and not just because trying to kill it will no doubt get himself killed.

"Blood traitor! Lying infant, monssster!" The basilisk hisses back, and it lunges for him. Harry dodges to the side, stopping it from grabbing him between its teeth, and he throws himself at the basilisk's head. He straddles it like he'd straddle a Hippogriff, his knees tightly pressed against the side of the snake's head, and as it rears back, Harry can do nothing - he has the knife in one hand and his wand in the other, with Fleur, Cedric, with everyone in the arena looking down at him, and he does what he has to do.

He brings his left hand down as hard as he can, slamming the length of the blade through the basilisk's skull - ordinarily, he'd never have the strength to do so, but the blade is enchanted to cut through nearly anything, and the hide and bone of the gigantic snake doesn't hold him back.

The basilisk screams, lurching forwards, and Harry drags back the knife and stabs again, and again, and again - when the basilisk falls forwards and Harry tumbles onto the hovering platform, its blood is soaked into the front of his robes and spattered across his arms. The basilisk's great head falls to the floor of the arena with a thunk and a splash, and Harry stays in his place, breathing heavily, clutching the blade in his hand.

There's a yell above him, and this time it's Cedric who casts, "Arresto momentum!" as Fleur falls towards the arena's wet ground, nearly landing on the back of the dead snake - she'd lost her footing in a sudden wind. She lands softly on the ground, and Harry can't process what that means as he sits on his arse, covered in the basilisk's thick, red-black blood, until the arena's stands explode in a cheer.

He and Cedric have won. That's what it means.

Harry doesn't stand up and raise his hands in a cheer, however - he throws himself from the platform to the stands, landing hard and scuffing his knees on the wooden stairs - and he brandishes his new knife at the leader of the goblin contingent, who'd been just about to leave.