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——THE THIRD TASK
LUDO BAGMAN AND CORNELIUS HAD JOINED THE STAFF TABLE NOW. Eleazar sat between her and Pansy at the Slytherin table, pointedly ignoring the people gawking at him because he was a well-respected Head Healer and muggle doctor before he became a higher up French official, and sometimes, American envoy.
Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.
That must be to do with the whole half-giant debacle that Rita Skeeter wrote, Effie thinks. After all, Fudge did accuse Madam Maxime about murdering Crouch Sr.
There were more courses than usual, but Effie, even if she was in a strangely calm state of mind and body, didn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."
"Oh lord," Effie mumbled. This was when all tribulation and anxiety hits. When she stood, the whole Slytherin table erupted in cheers, even banging their hands on table in solid support.
"Good luck," Eleazar grinned at her, raising his hands in the air for her to see him clapping. Ginny even cheered for her as Effie joined the other four champions.
"I probably shouldn't have binged on all the coffee," Effie says to Cedric, clasping her hands in front of her calmly. "But in my defense, it does cancel out the effects of asthma four hours from consumption."
"I'm sweating and it hasn't even begun yet," Cedric admits in a quiet whisper, consciously crossing his arms and hoped none could see the sweat stains under his armpits. "Merlin, how do you do it? So calm like that?"
"I can't let lose and let emotion take over, Cedric," Effie explained, eyes shining in amusement. "It's one of my asthma's triggers. And I suppose I have backup plans on top of backup plans. . . actually, I'm past being stressed. This is just. . . I don't know, autopilot?" He looked at her, confused.
They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.
