( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 ) — the third task

Evangeline's nerves mounted as the twenty-fourth of June grew closer; they were worse than those she had felt during the first and second task. Although this was the final hurdle, and the tournament would finally be over after, it was as if there was a hook in her stomach. It nicked and nagged at her core, growing unbearable as she entered a side chamber just off the Great Hall.

Cedric and his parents were inside, all three of them beaming with bright smiles. Viktor was stood in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian (he had definitely inherited his father's hooked nose). Nearer to the door, Fleur was jabbering away to her mother in loud French, which Evangeline did her best to resist the urge of eavesdropping — her family had French roots after all, so it was only right she was taught the language from a young age.

Mrs Weasley, Bill, and the pure-blood brunette were situated by the roaring fireplace. They smiled warmly as Harry slowly approached them, a disbelieving expression settling in his features. 

''Surprise!'' Molly exclaimed excitedly, bending down to kiss the Potter boy on the cheek. ''Thought we'd come and watch you, Harry!''

''You all right?'' Bill grinned, shaking Harry's hand. ''Charlie wanted to come, but couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail.''

''Harry!'' Evangeline greeted, enveloping the fourteen year old into a motherly like hug. If Harry didn't know better, he would've mistaken her embrace for Lily's. ''Remus sends his best wishes. He wanted to be here, but given last years circumstances . . . well, he thought it would be a better idea not to.''

''This is all really nice of you lot,'' Harry muttered. ''I thought for a moment — the Dursleys—''

Molly pursed her lips, holding her tongue about the Muggle family. She had refrained from outright criticising them in front of Harry, but her eyes flashed in disdain every time they were mentioned.

Evangeline, however, didn't have this problem.

''Oh, that horrible lot,'' she rolled her eyes. ''They would not even be able to step foot into Hogwarts — it appears as an abandoned castle to those of their kind, you see.''

''It's great being back here,'' Bill hummed, looking around the chamber. Fleur was eyeing him over her mother's shoulder, and a couple of the portrait people winked at him. ''Haven't seen this place for five years. Is that picture of the mad knight still around. Sir Cadogan?''

''Yeah.''

''And the Fat Lady?''

''She was here in my time,'' the ginger-haired woman remembered. ''She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning—''

''What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?'' Bill asked, surveying his mother with amazement.

Molly's eyes twinkled. ''Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll. He got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he was the caretaker in those days — your father's still got the marks.''

''Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?''

''Yeah, okay,'' he replied, leading the four of them toward the door into the Great Hall.

Evangeline checked her pocket watch, her eyes widening at which roman numerals the bejewelled hands pointed to. ''I have to go, Professor Moody wants my help with some of the charms for the task,'' she explained guiltily. ''Good luck, Harry. I will be in the stands, cheering you on every step of the way.''

The Quidditch field was now completely unrecognisable. A twenty-foot high hedge ran all the way along the perimeter. There was a small gap in the foliage; the entrance to a vast maze, which had a dark and creepy-looking passage beyond it.

Soon enough, the stands began to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as hundreds of students and a select few teachers began to file into their seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and a few shimmering stars started to appear.

Hagrid, Moody, Flitwick, and McGonagall came walking into the stadium, approaching Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their heads, except Hagrid who had his on the back of his moleskin vest — they were going to be patrolling outside the maze, ready to help should one of the champions need it.

After a quick conversation, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat, and his magically magnified voice entered the stands.

''Ladies and gentleman, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each — Mister Cedric Diggory and Mister Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts school! In second place, with eight points — Mister Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!''

The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the sapphire sky.

''So . . . on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three — two — one—''

He gave a short blast on his whistle, repeating the process twice more for Viktor and Fleur.

Throughout the task, the pressure in Evangeline's stomach worsened. It was as if something was gnawing on the lining of her stomach, biting and tugging. She had two excuse herself a total of four times to ❛powder her nose❜. Molly probably thought her to be vain — in reality, she was regurgitating her breakfast, lunch, and dinner into the toilet bowl, much to Moaning Myrtle's amusement.

The Rosier girl stepped the bottom of her heel onto the first stair, about to make the gruelling journey back up to her seat in the stands beside Bill, Molly, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George. Teacher or not, if Draco tried to trip her up a second time, she wouldn't hesitate to turn him into an albino ferret just like Moody did.

She turned her head curiously in the direction of a deafening thump.

Harry had slammed flat in the ground; his face was pressed into the green grass. He was clutching two things: the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup, and Cedric's body.

Cedric's dead body.

Cedric Diggory was dead.

The Hufflepuff with a heart of gold who had insisted on carrying copious rolls of parchment for his Charms professor, despite the fact that she could've used a spell to levitate them and trail behind her. The brown-haired boy who greeted his girlfriend with a Pumpkin Pasty and bunch of bluebells every morning in the Great Hall. The pure-blood who had defended Evangeline against some of the Slytherin students who had sneered ❛blood-traitor❜ at her during class; he knew what it was like.

A torrent of sound broke loose; there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams.

Harry remained where he was, his face screwed up against the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would pass . . . 

''Harry! Harry!''

Dumbledore was crouched over him. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; the ground beneath him reverberated with their footsteps.

They were at the edge of the maze. Evangeline forced her way through to the front of the crowd, kneeling beside the bloodied boy. He had let go of the Cup, but he clutched Cedric to him tightly.

He raised his free hand, and seized Dumbledore's wrist. ''He's back,'' Harry whispered. ''He's back. Voldemort.''

A gasp escaped the Rosier's girls lips. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't.

''What's going on? What's happened?'' Cornelius Fudge appeared, his face white and appalled. ''My God — Diggory! Dumbledore — he's dead!''

Others shouted it — screeched it — into the night.

''He's dead! He's dead! Cedric Diggory! Dead!''

''Harry, let go of him,'' Fudge pleaded, whilst Evangeline tried and failed to pry his fingers from Cedric's limp body.

''Harry, you can't help him now,'' Dumbledore murmered. ''It's over. Let's go.''

''Harry, it is okay,'' she soothed. ''You did your best. Come on, now.''

''He wanted me to bring him back. He wanted me to bring him back to his parents . . . ''

''That's right, Harry . . . just let go now . . . ''