Beatrice Lestrange has always been an outsider in her own story. Born into one of the darkest families in the wizarding world, she grew up under the looming shadow of her infamous mother Bellatrix Lestrange.
Despite this, Beatrice is nothing like th...
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The day of the third task had arrived, but the event itself wouldn't take place until nightfall. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the weight of the task ahead was impossible to ignore. Beatrice tried to push down the anxiety twisting her stomach as she joined her friends for breakfast, but every bite felt heavy.
Her friends were unusually quiet, offering small words of encouragement between bites. Hannah gave her a reassuring squeeze on her hand before she left the table, her usual smirk replaced with a rare look of sincerity.
Once breakfast was over, Bea hurried toward the side chamber where the families of the champions were waiting. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached the entrance. She had known this moment was coming but hadn't prepared herself for the wave of emotions that hit her when she stepped inside.
The room was small and filled with warm light. Fleur was already there, hugging her younger sister Gabrielle as she talked with her parents. Cedric stood near his parents, his father beaming with pride while his mother fussed over him. Harry was surrounded by a bunch of Gingers, she assumed they were the Weasleys, and finally Viktor was also talking with her parents. Bea's eyes scanned the room until they landed on a familiar group of blond heads, her family.
Without a second thought, she crossed the room and threw herself into Narcissa's arms. Her aunt caught her without hesitation, holding her tightly as though she could shield her from the danger awaiting her in the maze.
— Aunt Cissy, — Bea whispered, her voice breaking.
— My darling girl, — Narcissa murmured, holding her close. — You look so pale. Have you been sleeping at all?—
Bea forced a smile. — I'm fine, Aunt Cissy. Just nerves.—
— You've always pushed yourself too hard — Narcissa said, brushing a strand of hair from Bea's face. — Today is no different, I see.—
Lucius stood nearby, offering a small nod of approval. — You've been well-prepared for this. I have no doubt you'll make us proud.—
— Thank you, Uncle, — Bea replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
Her gaze drifted to Mattheo, who gave her a lopsided grin and a mock salute. — Ready to show everyone what a Lestrange can do? — he teased.
Bea rolled her eyes. — Always the cheerleader, Mattheo.—
Her attention then turned to Draco, who stood slightly apart from the group. His usual smug expression was absent, replaced by something unreadable. Bea stiffened, the anger she'd been suppressing rising to the surface. She hadn't forgotten the mess he'd caused with Theo, or the part he'd played in her fight with Hermione.
Draco cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. — Good luck, — he said, almost begrudgingly.
Bea raised an eyebrow. — That's it? No backhanded comment? No smug remark?—
