Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
——ANGEL BY THE WINGS
CATATONIC, THAT'S WHAT EFFIE FELT. She couldn't help but feel like Cedric's murder was a declaration of war.
She felt the ground beneath her reverberating with their footsteps. They had come back to the edge of the maze. She could see the stands rising above her, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above. All she could do was stare.
Had her father known about her mother's demise? Her past with Voldemort—but it couldn't be. He would've told her. He tells her everything. Does he, really?
Someone larger and stronger than her was half pulling, half carrying her and Potter through the frightened crowd—Moody is an impostor, that's Crouch Jr. Moody is an impostor, that's Crouch Jr.
She was a girl who knew too much, and she'll be damned if she doesn't use that. Effie was so close that she heard all of it—she'll be making a hell of a murder board after this, her wand stuck close to her side.
Every goddamned word proved her suspicions true and true. "You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course," Fake Moody said. "I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear. I tried to kill Lillian Stark, but she escaped, so I turned the maze against her."
And he babbled on and on. "But she figured it out, hadn't she?" Fake Moody sneers, swiveling on Effie. "No one would've believed the girl who knew too much. The muggle medication that came in last September was mine. Powdered Baneberry, familiar with it?"
With a sinking feeling, Effie realized that it was this impostor who broke her mind. She snarled viciously, "Don't you even touch—"
Fake Moody made a slicing motion with his wand, a white light hitting Effie smackdab in the chest. Potter's scream died down in his throat as Effie fell to her knees. Blood was dribbling from her ears, her eyes, even her nose. Not a second would follow, her mouth too. It added to all the blood that was already covering her.
Blood loss is fucking fatal, she thought as she doubled over, coughing, unable to breathe and her vision spun. How am I not dead yet?
There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Fake Moody's office was blasted apart—
