The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

SIXTEEN

The world around Harry is warped, dark and cold. He stands once again in the twisted graveyard of the Triwizard Tournament's final challenge, every detail as vivid and haunting as the night Voldemort returned. Cedric stands a few feet away, unaware, still alive in this terrible moment—but Harry knows what's coming, every awful second burned into his mind. And tonight, like every other night for weeks, Draco is beside him, forced to witness it all over again.

The older one can feel the tension radiating from Harry, the silent battle as he braces himself against the horrors about to unfold. He's watched Potter relive this countless times, and each time it's harder to bear, even for him. It isn't his memory, yet the grief feels just as sharp now, the dread just as real. Draco catches himself clenching his own fists, every muscle tense, as if willing the scene to stop before it can reach its inevitable end.

As always, Harry can't look, can't bear to see Cedric's face shift from confidence to shock, the horror as he realizes the end is coming. He clenches his fists, willing himself to look away, to somehow escape this endless nightmare. But the memory, like the magic that binds him to it, holds fast. The dread and grief press down on him like lead, making it impossible to breathe.

Suddenly, Draco lowers himself to the ground, silent and steady, before pulling Harry down with him. There's a quiet strength to his actions as he guides the other between his knees, grounding him. Draco gently places a hand over the dark-haired boy's eyes, blocking the sight he knows Harry can't bear to see again, his hand cool and steady against his skin. Slowly, the blond leans the Gryffindor back, easing his weight against his own chest, until Harry's head rests on his shoulder.

In truth, Draco's just as exhausted as the other man. Every night they're trapped here, watching, and every night it drains a bit more of his resolve. The desperation Harry tries to hide seeps into the Slytherin, feeding his own resentment toward this curse that's begun to feel like a punishment—for both of them.

It's an odd comfort, but something about Draco's presence—his stillness in the face of the nightmare they share—gives Harry a sliver of relief. Although the blond's breath is even, his fingers tremble ever so slightly as they press against Harry's temple. He's feeling this too. Reliving this again and again has stripped both of them raw, until all that's left is a shared, silent grief.

They stay like that, time stretching, neither saying a word as the sounds of that night echo around them—the snap of branches, the rustle of cloaks, and then, finally, Voldemort's voice, cold and triumphant. But Draco's hand remains steady, shielding the other from what he already knows, and for a fleeting moment, Harry feels a measure of calm amid the nightmare, a rare quiet that almost feels like peace.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the scene dissolves, pulling them both back into the dark, waking world—leaving them haunted, exhausted, and feeling that perhaps they've lost another piece of themselves to this curse they can't escape.
—

The warm glow of lanterns and the murmur of excited voices filled the air as students filed into the Great Hall, transformed for the evening into a sparkling wonderland. Harry walked alongside Ron and Hermione, his dress robes neatly in place, though his mind was far from the festivities around them. He couldn't shake the memory of the dream that morning—the way Draco had pulled him close, the gentleness, the way he'd blocked out the horror as if to protect him. It was a side of Draco he'd never seen in waking life, and the thought lingered, unsettling.

They approached the entrance to the Great Hall, and Harry's breath caught. The space had been transformed: shimmering lights floated in midair, casting a warm, soft glow, while delicate ivy vines twined around grand, arching columns. Jewel-toned banners hung from the ceiling, and soft music drifted from an enchanted orchestra at the far end of the room. It felt magical in a way that Hogwarts hadn't felt for him in a long time.