Harry looked at the hedge maze. Then he leveled his wand in front of him. "Expecto Patronum," he intoned, and a brilliant silver stag exploded from his wand. "Find the way, Prongs," Harry commanded.

From the stands, a cloak wearing Stubby Boardman, also known as Sirius No I Am Not a Criminal Why Do You Ask Black, pumped his fist. "That's my marauder!" he yelled, confusing everyone around him.

Minutes later, Prongs came back. Then Harry, who had a massive lead over both Viktor and Fleur due to points, calmly followed his corporeal Patronus' lead, whistling a merry tune.

Prongs turned out to be quite the capable fighter, killing a Blast Ended Skrewt, an Acromantula and other assorted baddies on the way. Harry wondered if this was because he had been staring at Fleur's tits for the last twenty minutes and was in desperate need of a good lay. It didn't help that Daphne, his second newest friend, never made a secret of the fact that her best friend, one Tracey Davis, was very, very close to her.

Those two had been giving him wet dreams for months now.

So Harry surmised that it was a very real possibility that Prongs was just acting on Harry's need to impale something right now. Even if it was a totally different way of impaling that Harry was thinking of.

When Harry finally found the cup, it turned out to be a portkey that teleported him to a graveyard somewhere.

Raising an eyebrow, Harry summoned the cup from where it'd fallen and then got teleported back to Hogwarts' grounds, and he chalked the whole thing up to a Portkey Malfunction.

Meanwhile, in Little Hangleton, Baby Voldemort looked at Wormtail, also known as Peter Pettigrew. "Wormtail, can you tell me what possessed Crouch Jr. to make that a two way portkey?" asked the stillborn looking baby in a low, high pitched hiss.

"I believe that would be Imperius-caused brain damage," said Wormtail, evenly.

"Well, remind me to gift wrap him and send him to Madame Longbottom with my regards. I'm sure she'll figure out a punishment that would be way better than anything I could come up with," the baby thing said.

"So… how long until we can retry the ritual?" asked Wormtail, absent mindedly rocking Baby Voldemort in his arms.

"Three or four years, give or take a few months. We'll have to figure out some other way to get me a better body than this homunculus, I'm not waiting that long," informed Voldemort.

Wormtail sighed.