The spell hit Krum in the back; he stopped dead in his tracks, fell forward, and lay motionless, facedown in the grass. Harry dashed over to Cedric, who had stopped twitching and was lying there panting, his hands over his face.
“Are you all right?” Harry said roughly, grabbing Cedric’s arm.
“Yeah,” panted Cedric. “Yeah . . . I don’t believe it . . . he crept up behind me. . . . I heard him, I turned around, and he had his wand on me. . . .”
Cedric got up. He was still shaking. He and Harry looked down at Krum.
“I can’t believe this . . . I thought he was all right,” Harry said, staring at Krum.
“So did I,” said Cedric.
“Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?” said Harry.
“Yeah,” said Cedric. “You don’t think Krum got her too?”
“I don’t know,” said Harry slowly.
“Should we leave him here?” Cedric muttered.
“No,” said Harry. “I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone’ll come and collect him . . . otherwise he’ll probably be eaten by a skrewt.”
“He’d deserve it,” Cedric muttered, but all the same, he raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he lay.
Harry and Cedric stood there in the darkness for a moment, looking around them. Then Cedric said, “Well . . . I s’pose we’d better go on. . . .”
“What?” said Harry. “Oh . . . yeah . . . right . . .”
It was an odd moment. He and Cedric had been briefly united against Krum — now the fact that they were opponents came back to Harry. The two of them proceeded up the dark path without speaking, then Harry turned left, and Cedric right. Cedric’s footsteps soon died away.
Harry moved on, continuing to use the Four-Point Spell, making sure he was moving in the right direction. It was between him and Cedric now. His desire to reach the cup first was now burning stronger than ever, but he could hardly believe what he’d just seen Krum do. The use of an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow human being meant a life term in Azkaban, that was what Moody had told them. Krum surely couldn’t have wanted the Triwizard Cup that badly. . . . Harry sped up.
Every so often he hit more dead ends, but the increasing darkness made him feel sure he was getting near the heart of the maze. Then, as he strode down a long, straight path, he saw movement once again, and his beam of wandlight hit an extraordinary creature, one which he had only seen in picture form, in his Monster Book of Monsters.
It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Harry as he approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice.
“You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me.”
“So . . . so will you move, please?” said Harry, knowing what the answer was going to be.
“No,” she said, continuing to pace. “Not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess — I let you pass. Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed.”
Harry’s stomach slipped several notches. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to the center.
“Okay,” he said. “Can I hear the riddle?”
The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:
“First think of the person who lives in disguise,
Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.
Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,
The middle of middle and end of the end?
And finally give me the sound often heard
During the search for a hard-to-find word.
Now string them together, and answer me this,
Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”
Harry gaped at her.
“Could I have it again . . . more slowly?” he asked tentatively.
She blinked at him, smiled, and repeated the poem.
“All the clues add up to a creature I wouldn’t want to kiss?” Harry asked.
She merely smiled her mysterious smile. Harry took that for a “yes.” Harry cast his mind around. There were plenty of animals he wouldn’t want to kiss; his immediate thought was a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but something told him that wasn’t the answer. He’d have to try and work out the clues. . . .
“A person in disguise,” Harry muttered, staring at her, “who lies . . . er . . . that’d be a — an imposter. No, that’s not my guess! A — a spy? I’ll come back to that . . . could you give me the next clue again, please?”
She repeated the next lines of the poem.
“‘The last thing to mend,’” Harry repeated. “Er . . . no idea . . . ‘middle of middle’ . . . could I have the last bit again?”
She gave him the last four lines.
“‘The sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find word,’” said Harry. “Er . . . that’d be . . . er . . . hang on — ‘er’! Er’s a sound!”
The sphinx smiled at him.
“Spy . . . er . . . spy . . . er . . .” said Harry, pacing up and down. “A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss . . . a spider!”
The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass.
“Thanks!” said Harry, and, amazed at his own brilliance, he dashed forward.
He had to be close now, he had to be. . . . His wand was telling him he was bang on course; as long as he didn’t meet anything too horrible, he might have a chance. . . .
Harry broke into a run. He had a choice of paths up ahead. “Point Me!” he whispered again to his wand, and it spun around and pointed him to the right-hand one. He dashed up this one and saw light ahead.