September 3rd, 1994
The golden hues of late afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass windows of the Hogwarts library, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the rows of ancient tomes and the polished floors. The normally hushed sanctuary buzzed softly with the murmur of students nestled in their tiny nooks, minds and quills racing as they prepared for the academic challenges that lay ahead.
Jericho, his mood considerably lighter than the previous day thanks to a soothing evening spent by the fire with Cedric, meandered between the towering shelves after his second day of classes. He moved with a kind of reverent awe, always struck by the sheer volume of knowledge encased within these walls.
His visit to the library bore a purpose, distinct from the usual scholarly or personal pursuits he found himself on. He was on a quest for information, driven by a newfound curiosity about the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric's unexpected interest in the competition had sparked a flame of concern in Jericho, propelling him to learn as much as he could about the unknown and potentially perilous event.
Jericho knew he could likely turn to Fred, who was undoubtedly well-versed in wizard sports. However, Jericho was consciously trying to divert his thoughts away from the redheaded boy. After spending the entire previous day entangled in his own anxieties about their relationship, Jericho needed a mental break - a chance to clear his mind and focus on something entirely unrelated to the Gryffindor boy.
His gaze swept over the spines of books, searching for titles or keywords related to the tournament. The section on magical sports was not one he frequented, and he felt a twinge of excitement mixed with apprehension as he delved into unfamiliar territory. Each book he pulled from the shelf seemed to weigh heavily with secrets and stories of a bygone era when the tournament was a celebrated tradition among the wizarding schools. He wondered which one Cedric had read - which one that had ultimately convinced him it was a good idea to join.
Finally, his fingers brushed against a particularly dusty volume tucked away in a less frequented corner of the library. It wasn't the one Cedric read, but it seemed to call to him in a way he didn't understand. The cover was embossed with faded gold letters that shimmered as they caught the light, reading, The Triwizard Trials: A History of Magical Merit and Mayhem. Jericho's pulse quickened as he carefully extracted the book from its place, feeling the weight of its history in his hands.
He found a secluded table near one of the grand windows, where the light could illuminate the dense text. As Jericho flipped through the aged pages, his fascination with the historical grandeur of the Triwizard Tournament began to deepen. The initial pages were filled with stories of valor and magical honor, ones that painted the contestants in the light of heroes stepping right out of a children's book. These heroic tales spoke of the glory that befell those who dared to conquer the challenges set within the tournament, creating a sense of respect within him for the tradition and its participants.
However, as he delved further into the text, the narrative began to shift. Subtly at first, then unmistakably toward more darker aspects of the tournament. Each turn of the page seemed to unveil another layer of hidden truths about the perils involved. He read of competitors who met grisly ends, their quests for honor and victory cut short in the most horrific ways imaginable. Descriptions of fatal encounters with magical beasts, lethal accidents during tasks, and deadly spells gone awry seeped into his mind, turning his once admiration into a growing horror.
The deepest chill came when Jericho stumbled upon detailed accounts of those who survived the tournament, but at a dreadful cost. They were champions who emerged forever changed - not with the scars of battle to wear as badges of honor, but cursed, mutated, or irreparably damaged by the dark magic they had faced. Some were left with bodies twisted in unnatural forms, others bore curses that darkened their souls long after the crowds had forgotten their names. And the worst part, all of them were kids - students, not much older than him - killed and mutilated in a school sanctioned event.
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Orange Trees | Fred Weasley
FanfictionIn which two boys fall in love under an orange tree. ~ {fred weasley x male oc}