43. Chapter 43

A minor earthquake ripples through the bleachers as the dragon lands in the rocky valley that had sprouted up on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. It flaps its leathery wings once, twice, and then unhinges its craggy jaws to emit a deafening roar.

It looks as though it’s been carved from out of a nightmare, with iron and obsidian. It’s quite possibly the most horrifying, most mind-blowing, most wicked cool sight that Rey’s ever witnessed in her life.

If only she could enjoy it.

If only she could feel—something.

But her Occlumency walls hold fast, to keep her from breaking. To keep her from thinking about Ben.

Baze Malbus hops down from the saddle affixed to the enormous creature’s ridged back, with an ease that is in stark contrast to his burly stature. He and the dragon then fix eerily identical glares on the enraptured audience.

Tapping his wand to his throat, Baze casts a nonverbal Sonorus. “This is Kaytoo!” His gruff tones echo through the air. “He’s a Ukrainian Ironbelly! He’s big and mean and he’s killed ten people! Dragonology is the most dangerous job in the world—I no longer feel pain because all my nerve endings have been burned off! Pick another career!”

In the midst of the absolute silence that follows, Rey hears Chirrut Imwe clear his throat from where he’s sitting beside Hux. It’s a very meaningful kind of throat-clearing. It’s a “We’ve talked about this” sound.

Baze rolls his eyes. “All of the reputable dragonology institutions require N.E.W.T.s in several subjects,” he recites, this time in a monotone. “To ensure that you’ll be able to take care of yourself in the field, you will need an Exceeds Expectations in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Of course, if you score anything less than an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures, you can fu—” Chirrut clears his throat again, and Baze corrects himself with a huff—“forget the whole thing entirely. You will also have to pass a flying aptitude test in order to get your dragon keeper license. There are several organizations you can apply to for your internship…”

As Baze drones on, Rey spots Bodhi Rook leaning over to Cassian Andor in the row in front of her. “This is going terribly, isn’t it?”

“It’s Baze,” says Cassian. “To tell you the truth, this is the best that we could have hoped for.”

“At least Kaytoo’s behaving himself,” Jyn points out from beside Cassian. “He’s actually being a—dare I say it—a good boy—”

The dragon chooses that exact moment to unleash jets of searing, red-gold flames at the sky.

Most of the students and several of the professors and career fair guests jolt in their seats. Flanked by Rey and Rose, Finn grabs their arms, moaning about how he’s too young to die.

Luke’s reaction is vastly different. He claps his grimy hands together. “Yes, yes, fire and blood!” he barks. “Just like Deathstar!” He elbows Ben. “Have I told you about Deathstar yet, Eggs Benedict?”

“You have, Uncle Luke,” Ben confirms flatly. “And stop calling me that.”

Luke bangs the end of his staff on the floor of the stands. “Bibble! Fungus!” He sounds extremely pleased with himself. “Gerrymandering!”

“Yes, Uncle Luke,” Ben says in long-suffering tones.

Rey feels nothing. Not mirth at Eggs Benedict’s predicament, not bittersweetness at remembering the snowed-in day in front of the fireplace when Ben had told her over mugs of piping hot chocolate about Sheev Palpatine rampaging through the Pacific Northwest, not even the slightest flicker of panic at the Ukrainian Ironbelly’s outburst.

It's all just… empty.

Is this what it’s like inside Ben’s head most of the time?

Rey can’t even muster any amount of happiness or concern for Rose when, after calming Kaytoo down, Baze selects her to be the one to help him feed the dragon—although, in all honesty, Baze must have felt that he didn’t have any choice, considering the fact that Rose had immediately started jumping up and down with both hands in the air when he asked for volunteers.

Baze’s assistants haul a cart of freshly butchered meat out onto the pitch and drape Rose in protective dragon hide gear. Already a tiny person, she looks even tinier still as she walks up to Baze and Kaytoo, the crowd watching with bated breath, Paige cheering enthusiastically for her sister, Finn gnawing on his nails like he’s a split-second away from a nervous breakdown.

“Your friend’s got nerves of steel,” Aleson remarks to Rey.

Rey offers him a half-hearted nod. In front of her, Tahiri Veila talks to Ben a murmur that’s too low to be audible to anyone else, and he mumbles a response, and it doesn’t eat Rey up inside because she’s Occluding and she doesn’t care about anyone or anything—

—but—

—but doesn’t Rose deserve for her to care?

Rey peers at the small figure approaching the dragon. Even from this distance, it’s obvious how wide Rose is grinning. This is one of her finest moments. Rose never backs down from anything, and Rey would be a poor sort of friend if she were to back down from sharing this with her.

Taking a deep breath, Rey cancels the Occlumency. Her mental walls come crashing down and every single emotion that she’s held back over the past several minutes floods through her system in a dizzying rush. After keeping them at bay for as long as she had, it’s almost horrific how intensely they surge forth all at once, ripping her apart.

In a way, she feels like she’s dying.

Rey can’t help the wince that escapes her lips. She sways in her seat, reeling from the invisible punches to the gut that only the heart can give, and Finn and Aleson hasten to steady her, clamping firm hands on her shoulders.

“All right, Niima?” Aleson inquires, traces of genuine concern glinting in his haughty eyes.

“You’ve gone awfully pale, Rey,” Finn points out, his brow creasing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Rey croaks. “I just…”

She trails off as she realizes that Luke, Ben, and the MACUSA Aurors have taken notice of the minor commotion and turned around. Of course, Ben is all that she sees at first. He’s frowning, already halfway out of his seat even before her single-minded attention has fully settled on him.

“I’m fine,” she repeats more forcefully, freezing him in place. Knowing instinctively that if he comes close it will be the end of her. “Just felt a bit faint for a second, but I’m okay now.”

“Oh, poor dear,” Tahiri coos in that sultry, honey-rich voice that sets Rey’s teeth on edge. “You’re worried about your friend, aren’t you?”

“Er—” Rey grabs hold of the excuse like it’s a lifeline—“yes.”

It’s not a lie—she is worried about Rose, mostly because the Ukrainian Ironbelly is big enough to crush her underfoot with a single misplaced step. It’s just that the worry for Rose crashed into her along with countless other emotions all at the same time. But no one needs to know that.

Ben sits back down, the muscles in his jaw clenching infinitesimally. His dark eyes are impassive but they remain fixed on Rey as the MACUSA Aurors fuss over her, enveloping her in more American accents than she’s ever before heard in such quick succession outside of Muggle telly.

“Don’t worry, darling, your friend will be fine, what’s your name, by the way, I’m Eryl—”

“Nothing’ll happen to Miss Tico under Malbus’ watch, he’s the best dragon keeper in the field, even I’ve heard of him and I’m a city boy—”

“It’s perfectly normal to fret, my dumb coworkers have given me, like, so many premature gray hairs—are you planning on the Auror track as well? Let me tell you—”

“Enough.” Ben’s terse command cuts through the chatter just as Rey’s starting to feel overwhelmed. “Miss Niima has already assured us that she is fine. Give her some space.”

“Niima?” Eryl Besa repeats, perking up. “The girl who helped you kill the manticore?”

“Well, now you have to try out for our program,” Tahiri tells Rey. “Not just anyone can defeat such a dark creature—”

“—even without Solo to weigh them down—” Ganner Rhysode jokes.

“That will do.” The look that Ben shoots his friends could have cut glass. “Let us attend to the demonstration.”

Ganner tips Ben a mocking two-finger salute. “Aye aye, captain.” He takes another swig from his flask.

“While I’m lecturing you on acceptable behavior, I highly doubt that you’re allowed to drink on school grounds as well,” Ben waspishly informs him.

“It’s coffee,” Ganner replies with a smirk.

The Aurors flash Rey some last grins and winks before turning back to the pitch. Rey inadvertently makes eye contact with Luke, who produces a Screaming Yo-yo from his voluminous sleeve and tosses it at her.

“Thank… you?” Rey asks more than states, shoving the Screaming Yo-yo into the pocket of her cutoffs before it can live up to its name and disrupt the proceedings.

“Cacti!” Luke roars affably.

The corner of Rey’s mouth twitches. Her gaze collides with Ben’s and she ducks her head before it can linger.

“That was far too much gregariousness to handle within the span of five seconds,” Aleson mutters in her ear. “Americans. Bloody hell.”

“I don’t believe that I shall ever recover,” Rey quips in equally low tones. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies a flicker of movement as Ben looks away.

Out on the pitch, Baze has just finished giving Rose the necessary instructions. Rose grabs a huge chunk of raw meat in thick-gloved hands and tosses it into the air with all her might, and Kaytoo strikes—

—like a serpent, his scaled neck weaving in a deadly arc. Now that she’s not Occluding, Rey can let herself appreciate the dragon in all its size and power, she gasps in awe and maybe with a little bit of terror along with everyone else as the dragon’s fanged jaws snap shut around the crimson-streaked flesh. Kaytoo barely pauses to chew his food before swallowing it in one big gulp. Then he lowers his fearsome head that’s the size of a truck, moving sinuously until his snout is inches away from Rose.

Finn’s holding Rey’s hand in a death grip. Even Paige has tensed, and the woman brings the curse of the pharaohs down upon herself for a living.

The dragon’s glowing red eyes slowly slide shut. It noses further into Rose’s space, making a guttural chirping noise that sounds—friendly, for lack of a better term.

Rose reaches out and pats Kaytoo’s snout. He snuffles in approval, releasing a steamy breath that blows loose strands of hair away from her face.

Baze Malbus had been watching the interaction like a hawk, ready to spring to Rose’s defense at the first sign that things will go sideways. But now he blinks, a pleased sort of surprise breaking through his gruffness. The stands explode into cheers. And Rey cheers along with the rest of them, glad that she’d stopped Occluding, glad that she’s basking in her best friend’s triumph, even if it had come at the cost of feeling her heartbreak all over again. She resolves to not wall herself away anymore if it can be helped. She will learn to take the bitter with the sweet. She thinks that she might prefer it that way.

Finn collapses against Rey in sheer relief. However, it’s not long before he groans as though arriving at some horrible epiphany. “Merlin, I’m going to be a dragonologist’s husband, aren’t I?”

Rey giggles, watching the contented expression on Rose’s face as the latter pets the gigantic reptile. “Yeah. Definitely.”

✨✨✨

The dragon habitat and all of the tents and stalls have vanished by six in the evening the next day. With the event mostly wrapped up, a good number of the career fair guests take their leave, although several stay behind for the training program tryouts. This latter group consists primarily of both the British and the American Aurors, but it also includes Baze, Bodhi, and Chirrut. Rey has already gathered that they are very close with Cassian and Jyn, and that is inspiring in itself—to see a friendship as tight-knit as the ones she has, with much of the same clowning around, still going strong among competent, respected… well, grown-ups.

Ben’s camaraderie with the MACUSA Aurors would have been inspiring, too, if only he weren’t at the center of it. And if only his every interaction with Tahiri didn’t leave a sour taste in Rey’s mouth.

After dinner, Rey and her classmates troop outdoors to find that the Quidditch pitch has been transformed again. It is now occupied by a maze of hedges, shining silver in the moonlight.

“Your professors have been hard at work over the last few months devising this obstacle course,” Obi-Wan tells the students proudly. “Anyone who dares to enter this dark labyrinth will encounter puzzles from every discipline that they have trained in here at Hogwarts. You may have to risk life and limb at some points but, naturally, you will be partnered with one of our very capable observers—both so that they can note your performance and so that we don’t get sued by your parents for reckless endangerment.” The headmaster pauses, waiting for laughter, but it is few and far between. The seventh years are nervous. He clears his throat and produces the signup sheet that had been making the rounds yesterday. “Now, as I call your name, will each participant kindly come up to the front…”

Aside from Rey, only fifteen other students have signed up to audition for the joint training program. Not everyone in her year wants to be an Auror and, among those who do, not everyone wants to leave the United Kingdom. Finn joins Rey on the pitch while Rose looks on from the stands—after her excellent performance with Kaytoo, Baze had offered her a year-long apprenticeship at his dragonology institute on the Southern Carpathians, effective immediately once she graduated, and the conversation she’d had with Finn and Rey after that had been long and serious and it had ended in more than a few tears apiece.

Rey will miss Rose with every fiber of her being—and Finn, too, if they end up going down different paths. There is a part of her that almost wishes that this doesn’t have to happen and that the three of them can just stay in Hogwarts forever. But you can’t hold back time, Rey thinks as she and Finn and the other hopefuls huddle before Obi-Wan, waiting anxiously. Sooner or later, there is a life that has to begin beyond the walls of the castle.

As soon as every single one of the student participants has been called forward, the British Ministry and MACUSA Aurors stride out onto the pitch. Walking as a unit, in the torchlit gloom, they look rather cool and professional in their dark robes—although the effect is ruined by Luke, who is still in the same starry purple getup from Friday evening and has somehow gotten even grimier.

Cassian Andor nods somberly at Rey. “Miss Niima. My colleagues and I are very excited to see how you do this evening. Surely, for a girl who killed a manticore and who was the first in her class to produce a corporeal Patronus, this maze will be a piece of cake.”

“So, you know,” Finn whispers in Rey’s ear after Cassian has walked past them, “totally no pressure whatsoever.”

She elbows Finn in the ribs. And it’s not that she’s searching for Ben on the stands, exactly, but she does see him—he’s sitting front and center, his arms crossed in front of his chest. It’s hard to tell from this angle if she’s in his line of sight and, in any case, it’s not as though his face gives up a lot for her to try to decipher.

Rey experiences the oddest sensation as she looks away from him. It is a defeat of some sort. Yesterday, she had completely blocked her emotions, utilizing Occlumency to the extent that Ben does on a regular basis. She had been so cold, so disconnected from the rest of the world, more of a ghost than the phantoms that wafted through the castle hallways. She doesn’t want to ever feel like that again. And now she’s wrestling with what it means to be in love with someone for whom that feeling is second nature.

It's so easy to hurt other people when you can just switch yourself off like that. It’s really lonely, too.

One by one, Obi-Wan calls out each student’s Auror partner and their objective, which he says had all been assigned at random. Each pair will be considered to have completed the maze once they’ve both touched the objective—a trophy of a specific color that the Auror partner had drawn the previous evening.

Rey is on tenterhooks. She hopes that she won’t be paired with Tahiri Veila; she shudders to think about what she will do or say in all her supreme awkwardness if she were forced into close quarters with Ben’s ex.

But Tahiri ends up being assigned to Jessika Pava, and Rey takes extra care to not glance in Ben’s direction as the two disappear into the labyrinth, scared that she might catch him staring after the other woman. Scared of what she will see in his dark eyes from across the distance.

Finn surreptitiously pumps his fist and utters a low Yes of triumph when he’s partnered with Cassian Andor, and Rey doesn’t know whether to be envious of her best friend or relieved that it isn’t her. Cassian would probably be anyone’s first choice for a companion in a dangerous obstacle course, but he is also the most likely out of all the observers to have high and exacting standards.

Finn doesn’t seem to mind, though; he flashes Rey and Rose a thumbs up as he and Cassian make their way into the maze.

“Niima, Eurydice!” Obi-Wan calls out. He smiles at Rey when she steps forward but she’s too tense to smile back, wondering who her observer will be. Obi-Wan peruses the roll of parchment in his hand and his eyebrows wag as though he is amused at whatever he finds there. “Now this will be interesting!” he proclaims. “Miss Niima, your objective will be the Green Cup, and your Auror partner is—none other than Master Skywalker himself!”

Rey blinks, stunned.

Ben’s uncle.

Merlin—it would have been far less awkward if she’d gotten paired with Tahiri.

From her place in the audience, Rose looks like she also has misgivings. Actually, she looks like she’s about to faint, obviously remembering what Obi-Wan had said about the participants having to risk life and limb. Her eyes dart from Rey to Luke, who at some point over the last several minutes has leaned against his staff and started—snoring.

One of the British Aurors nudges him and Luke springs to a semblance of alertness, glancing around wildly. “They are coming!” he shrieks, raising his staff in what he must think is an attack position. “The Great Emu War is upon us!”

“No, old friend,” Obi-Wan hastens to say, with his trademark cheer slightly strained at the edges. “No emus here! That happened in 1932 and you were but a gleam in your father’s eye! It is simply your turn to go into the maze with Miss Niima.”

“Very good, then!” Luke shuffles forward, crooking one muddy finger at Rey. “Come along, nincompoop.”

“It’s Niima,” she mutters as she trails after him, to a round of tepid, uncertain applause.

Rey glances over her shoulder as she stands at the entrance to the labyrinth. On the stands, Tallie is comforting Rose as she wrings her hands and is probably moaning about how Rey is going to die or at the very least get seriously injured again. A few rows behind them, Aleson is with his Slytherin friends, tight-lipped and perhaps a little less uncaring than usual.

And as for Ben—he looks nauseated, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. Rey can’t even bring herself to be annoyed at him for having the gall to care; it definitely speaks volumes about the difficulty level of the obstacle course that he and the other teachers had set up for him to be worried about her tackling it with only his mad hatter of a relative for company.

Nothing too awful can happen, Rey assures herself. After all, this is still just a school activity.

Granted, the school is Hogwarts…

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath, and she and Luke Skywalker step over the leafy threshold. The hedgerows and the darkness swallow them whole.

✨✨✨

The interior of the maze is composed of twists and turns that shift every few minutes, the shrubbery rearranging itself and constantly creating new passageways and closing off old ones without rhyme or reason. It’s as though the dizzying, haywire-clockwork nature of the castle’s moving staircases has been superimposed over columns upon columns of thorny, dew-damp green, lit only by silver moonbeams and the icy glow of summer constellations.

The temperature has dropped by several degrees. Rey shivers in the school uniform that she and the others had been required to change into for their tryouts—she’d foregone the black robes because she only has the one set that’s not too small or falling apart beyond what magic can fix, and the house-elves still haven’t figured out how to permanently remove the slime that had gotten all over it during a disastrous Charms practical a few days ago, but she’s definitely regretting it now as the evening chill presses against her bare legs.

Luke is strolling along behind her, content to follow her lead as he hums some jauntily off-key tune. Rey can’t hear or see any trace of her classmates and their respective observers; for all intents and purposes, it’s just her and Ben Solo’s hippy uncle.

She stops in her tracks when it occurs to her that a specific series of hedges looks familiar, like she’s navigated this same path more than once. Maybe even more than twice.

“We’re walking in circles,” Rey blurts out.

“Have been for the last half-hour,” Luke proudly informs her.

She whirls around to glare at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Fine thing, circles,” Luke says airily. “Never a beginning or an end, just an eternal cycle of renewal. Go ‘round a circle long enough and you’ll find revelation—or you drop dead from fatigue!” He lets out squawks of laughter, slapping his knees like he’s just told the greatest joke in the world.

Fuming, Rey holds her wand flat in her hand. “Point Me!” she mutters. The tip of the wand swings from left to right before finally settling on one direction.

“Oho!” Luke chuckles as they resume walking, with Rey using her wand aimed true north as a reference. “Excellent use of a navigation spell! Took you long enough, didn’t it? A hundred points to Biscuit Gremlin!”

“You can’t actually award House points, master,” Rey corrects him. “And, in any case, I’m in Gryffindor.”

“My nephew was in Horned Serpent!” Luke barks out amiably, and Rey nearly trips over her own two feet. “The house of the mind, that one! Had his nose buried in books ever since he was a toddler, couldn’t tear him away, scowled at us every time we tried to interest him in broomsticks or action figures—”

A pang stabs at Rey’s chest as she imagines Ben as a child, all solemn and dark-haired and highly unamused with his family’s antics.

“He was a very fat baby, too,” Luke continues, his tone softening in fond recollection. “Loved pinching his widdle cheeks!” It’s a mercy that he’s walking behind Rey so that he doesn’t see her breathe out a splinter of pain, consigning it to the night air. “Can’t believe he’s all grown up and paying taxes. D’you like him, then?”

Rey’s stomach lurches. She spins on her heel to gape at Luke in sheer horror. “What?”

The scruffy, bedraggled wizard blinks at her in owlish confusion. “Do you like him as a teacher, is what I mean,” he clarifies.

She turns away, internally cussing herself out for her foolishness. “Professor Solo’s all right, I s’pose.”

She waits for Luke’s response with a gradually intensifying paranoia but, thankfully, he seems to take her overblown reaction in stride. “Ah, I know he’s a big old grump, but you kids need to give him a chance, been through a lot, that boy—was expecting to find him happy and centered like Leia wrote me he was last Christmas, but it’s not a straightforward process and now he’s back to biting everyone’s head off—”

Rey keeps her steps steady and her gaze focused on the path so as not to arouse Luke’s suspicions, but there is a tiny corner of her heart that clings to his every word. Could she have played any part in Ben being happy over the holidays? Could he be just as miserable as she is now?

She determinedly quashes the hope that builds up within her. She grinds it to dust. She can make assumptions all she wants and Luke can discuss his nephew’s regression all he likes, but it doesn’t mean anything if Ben doesn’t confirm it. If it doesn’t come from him. She’s spent an entire school year ascribing meaning to his silences. It hadn’t exactly been the kind of guesswork that paid off in the end.

The next time Rey stops walking, it’s because she’s turned the corner to find a large, sleek silhouette lounging on the grass, blocking the way forward. Its head swivels at her and Luke’s approach—the head of a woman, peering at them with golden almond-shaped eyes from atop the sand-colored body of a lion, the tuft of a great tail swishing lazily back and forth.

Rey remembers what Paige had said yesterday, that she’d just arrived from Egypt. Had the Curse-Breakers brought this creature with them?

The Sphinx rises to its feet, stretching with feline grace. Rey glances behind her; Luke has sat down on the grass and is now smoking a pipe, seemingly without a care in the world. She’s most likely on her own.

And when she looks at the Sphinx again, it’s only a couple of steps away from her. It had moved swiftly and without sound beneath the moonlight.

“Answer correctly and I move aside,” the Sphinx instructs Rey in a low, feminine growl. “Remain silent and I let you walk back the way you came. Answer incorrectly and I attack.” As if to emphasize its point, it rakes its sharp and enormous claws across the grass.

Rey nods, a lump in her throat. Merlin, she hopes that Finn and the others are all right—but, then again, they have Aurors with them in case things go south. She only has Luke, who, judging from the earthy smell that is currently wafting through the air, is most certainly not smoking tobacco.

Instead of speaking its riddle, the Sphinx scratches a line of arcane symbols into the dirt. Rey stares down at the writing, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Even with five years of Study of Ancient Runes under her belt, she’s still surprised at the ease with which the translation comes to her.

There are two sisters: one gives birth to the other and she, in turn, gives birth to the first.

A circle, Rey finds herself thinking, finds herself remembering what Luke had been prattling on about earlier. A never-ending cycle. Renewal.

And, in Ancient Runic, certain concepts were always feminine…

“Day and night,” Rey says out loud.

Then she waits, her fingers tightening around her wand, her entire being poised to either fight or flee—

The Sphinx smiles, baring pearly white teeth. Then it graciously moves off to one side of the passage, letting Rey and Luke press on.

✨✨✨

The obstacles come hard and fast after that.

There’s a door that can only be unlocked by a key suspended in a lightning-strewn containment field that has to be deconstructed using Arithmancy. There’s a long stretch of passageway flooded with quicksand and bramble and walls of flame that have to be transfigured to something safe to walk on and climb over. There are prickly, grasping, murderous vines popping out of the hedges that have to be fought off or evaded with all manner of charms and hexes. There is a Blast-Ended Skrewt and an Acromantula.

Rey manages to power through each hurdle, sustaining only a few scrapes and bruises along the way, but it really does not help matters that her observer has apparently made it his personal mission to just hang back and get more and more stoned as time passes, occasionally calling out unhelpful remarks that are barely even relevant to the situation at hand. Before long, she’s covered in sweat and she’s almost too tired to think, and she understands Ben more than she ever has before—at least, where his annoyance with his uncle is concerned.

Because Luke Skywalker is just that—annoying. And, quite frankly, nuts. She can’t believe that this man has defeated a Dark Lord; he probably annoyed Palpatine into surrendering to the authorities, more like.

Eventually, Rey’s uncharitable musings regarding Luke dissipate. But only because the obstacle that Ben and Hux had collaborated on demands so much focus that there is little space left in her head for anything else.

It is very obviously Ben and Hux’s handiwork. A vast swathe of grass between the hedges has been enchanted to resemble a giant chessboard. Every time Rey steps on a white tile, two unlabeled potions appear and she has to gauge physical appearance and odor to determine which is the safe one to drink. Every time she steps on a black tile, a minor dark charm zips toward her that she has to counter or deflect.

She doesn’t always get it right. Luke practically rolls on the ground with laughter when she erroneously selects the Pompion Potion and her head is turned into a pumpkin for a few brief seconds—as well as when she’s too slow to dodge the Bat-Bogey Hex and bats come flying out of her nose. Still, Rey soldiers onward, tackling the obstacle with the ferocity of a personal grudge.

Because it is personal. This stupid bloody chessboard is the reason Hux had walked in on her and Ben on the fateful Saturday that had turned all of her carefully held dreams to ash. And with each hex and jinx that has an achingly familiar magical signature written all over it that comes flying at her, she can pretend that Ben is here and that it’s actually him that she’s dueling. That she’s taking him to task, using all the moves that he had taught her over the course of their fractured history, spells glinting under the summer moon and her feet carrying her ever on, why did you do it, how could you hurt me like that, how could it have meant so much to me and so little to you—

The last black tile elicits the red light of a Stunning Spell. It crashes into the silver glow of her Shield Charm, and the chessboard vanishes. A pedestal rises up from the earth a few feet away; resting atop it is a brass trophy emblazoned with panels of emerald-green glass.

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Luke crows in a rare moment of lucidity, putting away his pipe and scurrying to catch up to her. “You made really good time, Miss Nincompoop! Or Auror Nincompoop, I should say!” He pauses, bushy white brows knitting together once he catches sight of her face. “Here! Why are you crying?”

“Just glad it’s over,” Rey mumbles. She can barely see the Green Cup through her tears. She takes a moment to blink the wetness away from her eyes, and then she squares her shoulders. “C’mon, then.”

She and Luke march toward the pedestal. They both reach out and simultaneously grab hold of the Cup.

And then—

—and then there is a sensation akin to a hook snagging at her navel and dragging her backwards across space and time, a sensation that is similar to Apparition but she’s only ever felt twice in her life before, the summer before fourth year when the Ticos had taken her and Finn to Guernsey and then back to England using a—

Portkey? is Rey’s last coherent, bewildered thought as the world falls away.