Final Task

The atmosphere around the Quidditch pitch—now transformed into an enormous, twisting, and frankly horrifying maze—was electric. The sky was dark, casting an eerie glow over the towering hedges that loomed like silent sentinels, waiting to swallow the contestants whole. Torches flickered, casting long, jagged shadows against the labyrinth walls, as the distant sound of enchanted creatures within the maze echoed every now and then—a reminder that the champions weren't just walking into an ordinary hedge maze.

The stands were packed with students, professors, and visiting witches and wizards. Everyone was buzzing with anticipation, chattering excitedly, placing last-minute bets on who would make it out alive (because let's be honest, the track record of this tournament wasn't exactly reassuring).

From where we sat, I could see Fleur Delacour standing tall, her silver-blonde hair shining even in the dim light. She looked composed, but her fingers twitched at her sides as she exhaled deeply, clearly trying to steel herself.

Next to her, Viktor Krum was standing with the usual brooding scowl that made him look like he'd already decided to punch the maze into submission.

Cedric Diggory was exchanging a few words with his father, who was patting his shoulder far too enthusiastically. The golden boy of Hufflepuff looked determined but relaxed, flashing an occasional grin to his supporters in the stands.

And then there was Harry.

Poor, poor Harry.

He looked like he had just remembered every single reason he should not be here. He was nervously shifting on his feet, sending occasional what-the-actual-hell-am-I-doing-here glances at the maze, as if he could somehow negotiate his way out of this nightmare.

Draco smirked, tilting his head. "So, how long before Potter miraculously wins again?"

Blaise chuckled, stretching his arms. "I'm guessing ten minutes before some random magical phenomenon swoops in to save his Chosen One backside."

"I'd say five," Pansy said, inspecting her nails.

Kenny gasped dramatically. "Wait, you think Potter will win?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, definitely. I just like to pretend I'm shocked when it happens."

I giggled before glancing at Draco, who was watching Cedric with a very unimpressed look.

"You're staring again," I murmured, nudging him with my elbow.

Draco huffed. "I am not."

"Draco," I smirked, "if you glared any harder, Diggory's hair might combust."

Draco scoffed, crossing his arms. "I just don't like how he walks around all perfect and smiley."

"He's literally just standing there."

"Smugly standing there."

I rolled my eyes, but I was secretly thrilled at how ridiculously jealous Draco was.

Ludo Bagman's magically amplified voice boomed through the stadium, calling for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen! The time has come for the final task of the Triwizard Tournament!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, the excitement bubbling over.

The four champions lined up near the entrance of the maze. Their faces were set, tense but determined.

Bagman's voice rang out again. "As a reminder, the winner shall be the first to reach the Triwizard Cup, placed somewhere deep within the maze. Beware—the path is treacherous, the obstacles... unpredictable."

Draco snorted beside me. "Obstacles, my arse. More like near-death experiences."

"Very encouraging," I murmured.

Bagman continued, "The champion with the highest score so far shall enter first, followed by the next highest, and so on."

Cedric and Harry exchanged a look before stepping forward.

Draco groaned. "Oh, look. Potter and Diggory, side by side again. How adorable."

I gave him a look. "You do realize that if you roll your eyes any harder, you might actually time travel?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, the sound of a cannon blast echoed through the stadium. The audience fell silent.

Cedric and Harry darted forward, disappearing into the towering hedges.

A few moments later, Krum followed.

Then Fleur.

The moment she disappeared into the dark maze, the hedges shifted—closing behind her with an eerie rustling sound.

And just like that, the champions were gone.

.......................................................................

We were honestly there for the food at this point. The excitement from earlier had fizzled out, and now, we were just waiting for something interesting to happen.

I popped yet another chocolate frog into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully as Kenny inspected the card that came with hers.

"Oh," she grinned, holding it up. "It's Merlin!"

Blaise smirked. "You mean the same Merlin you already have twelve of?"

Kenny huffed, slipping the card into her robe. "You never know when another might come in handy."

Draco, who had been dramatically lounging beside me with his arms crossed, let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Honestly, this is getting boring."

I raised a brow at him. "What? Sitting and waiting for people to almost die isn't fun enough for you?"

He smirked. "Not when I don't get to watch it happen."

I rolled my eyes and stuffed another piece of chocolate into my mouth, just as a shriek erupted from the maze.

Instantly, our heads snapped toward the hedges. The crowd murmured in confusion, shifting in their seats.

And then—

WHOOSH.

Something was thrown out of the maze. Hard.

It landed in a heap on the ground near the entrance, and as the dust settled, we realized—

"Fleur?!" Kenny gasped.

Fleur Delacour lay sprawled across the dirt, her silver hair matted, her robes ripped, and her entire aura screaming pure horror.

Madame Maxime practically bulldozed her way onto the pitch, her enormous figure casting a shadow over the unconscious girl as she knelt down beside her.

For a few agonizing moments, Fleur wasn't moving.

Then, suddenly—

She jerked up with a loud gasp, eyes wide as if she had just woken up from a nightmare.

We all watched, frozen.

Fleur blinked rapidly, taking in her surroundings. Then, realization hit.

Her breath came out in quick, panicked bursts, and she practically scrambled backward across the grass, eyes darting wildly as if expecting something to jump out at her again.

"Mon dieu!" she choked out. "Zhere was— it was—!"

She couldn't even finish her sentence.

The girl looked absolutely horrified.

I swallowed hard.

"Well," Blaise said, still chewing on a pastry. "That doesn't look promising."

Draco smirked, but even he seemed slightly unsettled. "So... I'm guessing she didn't find the Cup?"

I elbowed him. "Oh, great observation, Malfoy. Really, top-notch deduction skills there."

He snickered but kept his eyes on Fleur, who was still trying to catch her breath while Madame Maxime fussed over her.

Kenny shifted beside me. "Guys... what do you think happened in there?"

Blaise shrugged. "I dunno, but whatever it was, it took her out."

I frowned. Fleur was not the type to be easily scared. She was confident, poised—she wasn't someone who'd lose it over something small.

But looking at her now?

She was shaking.

Draco exhaled beside me, stretching his arms out. "Well, if she's out, that means it's down to Potter, Diggory, and Krum."

I turned to him. "Let me guess—you desperately want Diggory to lose."

His smirk widened. "It's like you know me, darling."

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach was twisting.

If Fleur was this shaken up, what else was lurking in that maze?

.....................................................................

Krum was out.

It was supposed to be over.

We had been sitting there for what felt like forever, waiting. And then, finally—

They appeared.

Harry. Cedric.

And the Cup.

At first, my brain didn't register that something was wrong.

I grinned, standing up. "Oh, finally! I knew one of them would—"

But then—

Draco froze.

His entire body went rigid, his face drained of all color, and his hands gripped the edge of his seat so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

I blinked at him. "Oh, Draco stop it!" I teased, nudging his arm. "I know you didn't want Cedric to win, but at least—"

Draco didn't respond.

He didn't smirk. He didn't roll his eyes.

He just sat there, staring, his chest rising and falling as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

And then—

A scream.

High-pitched. Heart-wrenching.

Delacour.

That's when I saw it.

That's when everything fell apart.

Cedric Diggory wasn't moving.

He wasn't standing.

He wasn't smiling.

He was lying on the ground, his eyes wide open, his limbs limp.

And Harry—

Harry was clinging to him, gripping at his robes as if that alone could bring him back. His face was twisted in agony, his cries loud enough to shake the heavens.

"He's back!" Harry screamed. His voice was raw, desperate. "HE'S BACK! VOLDEMORT'S BACK!"

Draco fell.

He collapsed right there in the stands, his hands flying to his face as his body curled inward. His breathing came out in sharp, erratic gasps, and then—he wept.

I had never seen Draco Malfoy cry.

Not like this.

Not like he was breaking apart.

And I— I—

I couldn't fight back my own tears.

Because Cedric Diggory was dead.

He was dead.

Gone.

And Harry was sobbing, clutching at Cedric's lifeless body like his cries alone could wake him up.

There were shouts. Screams. Chaos.

"MOVE ASIDE!!!"

Mr. Diggory shoved his way through the crowd, his face twisted in pure desperation. He tripped, stumbled, and then—

He fell onto his son's body.

"THAT'S MY SON! THAT'S MY BOY!"

His screams echoed through the stadium, raw and unbearable. His hands trembled as they clutched Cedric's lifeless face, shaking him, sobbing over him, begging him to wake up.

I felt sick.

I felt numb.

Cedric had been smiling just hours ago. He had walked into that maze, confident and determined, alive.

And now—

Now, he was never coming back.

I turned to Draco, still trembling beside me. His hands were in his hair, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

He lifted his gaze, and our eyes met.

And for the first time, we both knew.

We had always known.

But we had never thought it would be possible.

Not really.

Not like this.

But now, as we watched Cedric Diggory's father scream for his son—

We knew that nothing would ever be the same again.