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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As soon as their fingers brushed the cup, a powerful pull yanked them off their feet. The world spun violently around them, and in the blink of an eye, they were no longer in the maze. Instead, they landed roughly on cold, damp grass, the impact knocking the wind out of them.
Beatrice scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in her surroundings. The air was heavy, suffocating, and an eerie silence blanketed the area. The faint moonlight revealed rows of ancient, weathered gravestones. A chilling realization dawned on her as she squinted at one of the stones nearby.
Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked onto the name engraved on it: Tom Riddle.
Her stomach churned, and her blood ran cold. She felt like the ground beneath her might give way at any moment. It wasn't just any cemetery, it was Mattheo's grandfather's stone. The father of Lord Voldemort.The man her brother refused to acknowledge as his father.
— Harry...— Her voice shook, barely above a whisper at first. Then, with growing urgency, she said louder, — Harry, we need to go. Now. —
Cedric, still recovering from the disorienting transportation, looked up at her, confused. — Go? Where? What's happening? —
— Someone's coming, — Harry said suddenly.
Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves.
Bea couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face.
And, several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time, Bea saw that the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby...or was it merely a bundle of robes?
Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric and Bea. Cedric shot him a quizzical look and Bea a worried look. They turned back to watch the approaching figure.
It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry, Bea and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.
And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain, he fell on his knees as he grabbed his forehead and yelled in pain. Bea, preoccupied, kneeled in front of him not understanding what was happening.
— Harry! What's wrong? Are you okay? — the pain he felt didn't allowed him to answer her.
At the same time from far away, above their heads, they heard a high, cold voice say. — Kill the spare.—
A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"
The words struck the air like thunder, and a blinding flash of green light cut through the darkness.
