✔️ 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘&𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 → 𝑔𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑢

26 | his reward

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     At first Samira was pretty sure that this was just a part of the task. To be honest? A maze was pretty lame for a Triwizard Tournament. After fighting dragons and breathing under water, this couldn't have to be all! But a graveyard? That definitely was macabre, and as soon as this was finished, she was totally going to tell Ian's mum that the committee that chose the tasks had more than one screw loose.

     "Wands out, don't you think?", she muttered at Harry, who was as confused about the port key as Samira, still staring at it dazzled.

      "Oh, yes", he mumbled back.

      Her arm was still around his waist, trying to steady the poor boy, when she noticed something in the distance. A movement crossing the meadows of a soft hill; a figure emerging out of the soft fog surrounding them. As it came closer, she saw it was a hooded small man, maybe a woman, but from the first impression, Samira was sure it was a male person. In his arms, he carried a pack of lumps, holding it like a baby.

     "What is that about?", Samira asked, cocking an eyebrow. "If that's the winner's ceremony, they can go and —"

      But she never got a chance to end her rant. Harry let out a scream next to her, and she couldn't hold him no longer as he seemed to wind himself in pain. He fell to the floor, hands pressed against his forehead, still agonising yelps erupted from his mouth, and his wand lay uselessly in the grass.

     "Harry!", she gasped, sinking to her knees next to him, shaking him, but he didn't react to her touch. "Harry, don't — what is it? Harry, speak to me! Harry!"

     "The girl?" The hooded figure had arrived, speaking in a whistling voice, and Samira had been right: it was a man. She looked up. He had reached the graveyard, standing close a big memorial with a stone angel on it. Wondering who he was talking to, Samira was about to raise her wand, when a voice like she'd never heard it before, high-pitched and cold, got her blood freezing.  

     "Incapacitate her", it said. "She will be his reward."

     The voice seemed to come from what Samira thought was a bundle of lumps and she whipped her wand up, lips parting to speak the next best curse that came to her mind, but she never could finish it. A red light blinded her, crushed into her chest and everything went dark.

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     All her life, Samira had thought she knew fear. When she awoke to the sound of yells and screams, she got a vivid impression what fear was made of.

     She felt numb, couldn't move a muscle at first, but slowly her fingers scratched into the dewy grass underneath her. She didn't dare to make another move, eyes fixating the scurrilous scene that played right in front of her eyes.

     There was a ring of hooded creatures circling around the source of an almost blinding light, but she got used to it quickly, given to the adrenaline that was bumping through her veins. Harry was floating five feet above the ground, his wand held with two hands in front of him, a golden line, sparks flying from its every inch, linked the young Gryffindor to his opponent, and Samira barely could surpress a gasp, as she glanced at the pale face, nose like a snake, and wide torn eyes glimming red like ruby's against the darkness behind him. His tall, slender body was wrapped in a long black robe, and both of his long fingered hands grasping the white wand in front of him.

     This definitely was no part of the task.

     It was absurd. It just couldn't be real! Was she still knocked out and dreaming all of this?

     What looked horribly much like He, who must not be named, was surrounded by ghosts — no, it weren't ghosts, they seemed so solid, but on the other hand not; like smoke. Three of them circled the red eyed man, and a fourth one was with Harry.

     Like in trance, Samira got to her feet. Nobody seemed to care about her anyway, they all were to distracted by the strange spectacle above their heads. One of the man stepped forward.

     "Stop!", the Dark Lord snapped at him, his face grimaced. "Don't do anything!"

     Samira tried to find a way to help Harry, but fear drowned her brain in thick fog. She strode closer towards the circle of what she was sure about were Death Eaters, ducking down behind tombstones, as she heard the smoky woman next to Harry yell "Now!" and all the ghostly figures floated at Voldemort, circling him on his way to the ground, while Harry fell to the floor, jumping up to his feet.

     He ran like his leg had never been injured, turning his path, rounding tombstones, until his eyes fell on Samira, who instinctively stretched out her hand for Harry. Spells shot through the night, missing him by inches, and the young boy grabbed Samira's hand, his wand aiming for the golden cup that still lay in the same place they had left it.

     "Accio!", Harry yelped at the same moment that the cold, high-pitched voice screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"

     The cup shot towards Harry's outstretched arm, behind them there was a thunderous whir. Harry's hand enclosed around the trophy, a green light blinded Samira, as she threw a last glance back at the hooded crowd, at red glowing eyes ...

     And then there was nothing.

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