Chapter 78

Atlas pulled on her chest piece over her shirt, strapping the gloves Hermione had gotten her two Christmas’s ago to her hands and readjusting her belt, she sighed, rolling her shoulders around as she jumped about, her hair up into its signature half-tail. Minerva was milling about the trial area, making last-minute preparations with some of the designers, Atlas even spotted a few prefects dotting the place as well, but no Cedric. She sighed, raising her arms up in the air to crack her back, a long content sigh leaving her. 

There was a commotion coming from the castle, excited chatter and music echoing down and onto the Quidditch field now completely unrecognizable and infested with great hulking hedges that swallowed the sky. There were four gaps to her left, each trailing off and into the maze that knew no limit. The passage beyond was fogged, unseen, a veil that stopped anyone from looking into it.

Around five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air crisp with electricity, everyone was excited, everyone was ready and as Atlas stared off into the dark abyss, she couldn’t help but realise she really, really wasn’t. The paranoia and anxiety she felt ebbed away at her confidence and the want to get this whole completion over and done with was replaced by a need to run. But she couldn’t, and she wouldn’t, no matter how much she wished to, for there was the curse that would befall her if she did and, well, that same magnetic feeling that latched into her in the first two trials. 

The ones that told her to just get to the end. Whatever or where ever that might be.

“Atlas!” Her god brother called, jogging beside her. “Atlas, there you are.”

“I did say I was seeing Minerva.”

“Right, yeah…”

“You thought I’d run away,” Atlas smiled and Harry flushed.

“No…well, I suppose I did. Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to embarrass you I just wanted Hermione to see how much of a tosser Krum is,” Harry offered and then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, it was wrong…I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate it, Harry, really.”

“And — er — Hermione is sort of waiting for you.”

“…what?”

“Just go and see her, she’s waiting by the entrance to the stands,” Harry urged and pushed her towards the rows of chairs, deep into the crowd of enamoured viewers and students. Atlas glared at him over the many heads of people but sighed and resigned to her fate, her head in her hand as she continued over to where Harry had told her to go.

She wasn’t hard to spot in hindsight, her head of bushy hair stuck out like a sore thumb and she was – once again – sporting Atlas’s Quidditch jacket, Magianima plastered across its back with her number on show. And well, Atlas couldn’t help but smile at that, settling into a slow jog as she slipped through bodies and eventually came out to stop right in front of Hermione. It had, apparently, startled her as she seemed to recoil in shock, a short cry expelling from her lips that drew a few eyes.

“Am I really that scary?”

“Positively terrifying,” Hermione sighed, laughing nervously. Atlas smiled, tilting her head to the side as she let her gaze drift across her jacket. “Oh! I hope you don’t mind, Katie suggested I wear it. To show my support? Is what she said.”

“It’s fine, you should probably keep it at this point,” Atlas shrugged. “Harry said you wanted to talk to me and…look, Hermione, if it’s about earlier –“

“Atlas you make me happy.”

“What?” Atlas blanched, going slightly wide-eyed.

“You make me truly happy, I just want you to know that and honestly, no one is better than you and, I don’t need protecting, so you don’t need to worry about that, I’m a pretty tough girl. I can take a few hits and deal a good blow myself,” Hermione rushed, in a way that was confidently nervous. It was strange but Atlas could tell Hermione was being genuine, she just delivered it in a way that made her seem insecure. Maybe it was the setting and because of what was about to happen in only a few minutes. “I don’t know what Viktor was talking about.”

“Hermione…”

“Atlas, we never really talk about it and maybe now isn’t the time but…we really need to work on your self-worth. I mean, you obviously know you’re attractive and you use your charm on near enough everyone but it feels like that’s all you really see of yourself. Honestly, how can someone so confident be so…”

“Insecure?” Atlas muttered and Hermione smiled gently, nodding softly. “I don’t know…it’s just sort of a thing, you know. Everyone that likes me doesn’t actually like me, they just think I’m hot, they’re infatuated.”

“I like you,” Hermione told and Atlas looked at her, really looked at her before shaking her head.

“You know what I mean, Hermione. Nobody’s actually liked me for me and the people that know me have never like…fallen for me and though I’m grateful for my friends and wouldn’t have it any other way, it makes me wonder,” Atlas looked thoughtful in a way that was almost frantic and Hermione couldn’t help but smile up at her amusedly, her hands twitching, seemingly wanting to just grab Atlas right then and there. “Maybe my personality isn’t built for a relationship, they just see me as a sister or that one flirt who looks like she has commitment issues.”

“Atlas…”

“Am I…Hermione am I undateable?”

“No, Atlas –“

“I know I’m like…attractive, I guess, but that’s all anybody wants to see, is my personality just unicorn shit?”

“Your personality is amazing, Atty –“

“Would you date me?”

“I — excuse me?” Hermione blanched as Atlas stared at her, genuinely curious, seemingly unaware of the weight that question held. “Well –“

“Atlas, there you are!” They both turned to see Cedric bounding over to them, a massive grin on his face as he pulled the girl into a hug, looking ecstatic and a little muddy. Moody must have been putting him to work.

“Hold that thought, Mi,” Atlas said and then backtracked. “Actually, we can finish this conversation when I win this thing.”

“There’s the confidence,” Hermione sighed, shaking her head with a smile as she pulled Atlas down to peck her cheek. “You better win, I’ll be rooting for you…and Harry of course.”

“Why not just me?”

“No can do,” Hermione sing-songed and jogged up into the stands, eager to find a seat. Atlas watched her go with a smile before sighing and turning to Cedric, a little frown on her face that he noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong, Las?”

“Nothing, just a little tired,” she shrugged and then looked at him. “What did you want?”

“Just to wish you luck, oh, and guess what! Bella’s going to take us to Romania next Halloween! if you’re up for it, of course, she told me before she left just now, she’s sorry she can’t stay by the way and says some of the workers that keep the Dragon’s up there were really impressed with you in the first task and consented to let the both of us spend a week with the Dragons! How cool is that!?” He beamed, running a hand through his stupid quiff. Atlas grinned.

“That sounds awesome, yeah, I’ll definitely come,” she nodded eagerly. “How’s work with Moody been?”

“Pretty boring actually, he just asks questions about you really, how close we are and stuff, but he’s alright, maybe a bit mad…”

“A bit?” Atlas grinned and wrote off that uneasy feeling in her heart as third task jitters. A loud whistle blew in the distance and Atlas took that as her cue to join the other champions. So, she muttered her quick goodbye and turned to sprint, only, Cedric stopped her again, looking sheepish. “Cedric? What is it? I really need to go.”

Minerva’s voice carried over to them, informing them of the system they had put in place in which should the champions encounter trouble, they need only send a red spark into the sky and someone would come and get them.

“So, I know you didn’t want to take it last time but,” — Cedric took off his ring, holding it out in his palm toward her — “you should take it this time, I want to be with you in there.”

“Ced…” she glanced up at the boy, seeing the pleading in his eyes, “Alright, fine,” she took it, slipping it onto her own finger, feeling Cedric’s heart beating strong and true, it warmed her hand and she smiled, flexing her fist. “Now you’ll always be with me.”

“You bet, I’ll see you on the other side, yeah? Moody wants me to go and see him but I’ll watch you from the stands with my mum and dad after.”

“Watch what exactly? The hedges?”

“Shove off.”

“Yeah, yeah, see you when I see you, Diggory.”

“You too, Magianima. Oh and…I love you, little sister.”

Atlas stared at him a moment before smiling and shaking her head. “Yeah, whatever, you know you’re not actually my brother right?”

“Ouch, stone cold. Still, love you, Las!”

“Yeah, I…same, Cedric.”

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“Oh shut it!”

This time she turned, tossing a wave over her shoulder as she broke out into the plain patch of grass that she’d stood on earlier, the so-called welcome mat of the third and final trial. She stood beside Harry, bumping her fist with his so his ring and Cedric’s clinked together. It was a pleasant sound and she found herself suddenly energized, bouncing up and down and shaking out her arms as she threw a look over at Fleur, the girl doing her own stretches and exercises.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!” Bagman’s voice boomed, “Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each – Miss Atlas Magianima and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!” The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. “In second place, with eighty-three points – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!” More applause. “And in third place – with sixty-five points – Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! “

Atlas could just make out Molly, Bill, Ron and Hermione applauding politely at the announcements, halfway up the stands. She caught Hermione’s eye and beamed, waving like some mad dog would wag its tail. Harry failed to stifle his laughs beside her so she punched him in the stomach, still smiling at Hermione who sent her a small thumbs-up.

“So…on my whistle, Harry and Atlas!” Bagman boomed and Atlas startled, turning around and shaking her head about, “Three – two – one -“

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Atlas both sprinted into their respective openings, shooting each other nods of well-wishing. And as soon as Atlas was inside, the bush closed behind her, she took in a breath, finding the silence deeply unnerving and shifted, shaking out her fur and scratching against the floor. One of her front legs was now marred and burnt, something she hadn’t noticed while fighting off that Kelpie in the second trial, but now, it was all too noticeable and Atlas realised that once she’d finished this thing, she needed to be careful with who saw her as Frog.

She turned, her ear twitching at the sound of another whistle blown. Fleur was in the maze. She ventured in further, eyes glowing a pale gold through the voidal shadows the hulking hedges cast but still she couldn’t see anything, nor could she smell or feel that familiar magical pulsation that belonged to the Triwizard Cup. Another whistle. Now all of the champions were inside. So she shifted back, her footsteps crisp against the primly kept grass as she journeyed deeper, her wand out in front of her, eyes golden.

It was quiet save for the noise she made, not an obstacle or foe in sight and it unnerved her, set her hairs on edge because though there was nothing seen, there was still a feeling, a feeling that there was something, somewhere in a veil of darkness watching her, whether it be from above, below or right behind her. A breeze at the back of her neck had her spinning around, wand poised and ready only to find nothing at the end of it. She paused, then, took in her surroundings and reevaluated her situation.

No good came from sitting around like a piece of bait, however, so she quickly got to moving once more, practically jogging down winding paths with her wand now hovering in her palm, pointing North, but she knew she needed to go North West so she adjusted her movements, finding the silence so deafening it was slowly growing disturbing. She could hear those whispers again, similar to the ones she’d heard from the Goblet of Fire, similar to the humming her wand sang and it was strange, it was maddening.

She shook her head about, slapping her ear as if to get something out of the other as she continued forward, there was a low light up ahead, like the embers of a dying fire in the form of a long and winding path. It was almost serpentine and as Atlas lay her eyes on the several mounds of unsupervised fire – magical fire – she realised just what she had stumbled upon. Perhaps a bit too late.

Atlas was hurtled into the wall of the maze, sharp thorns prickling into her skin and living small cuts across her face as a large Ashwinder slowly revealed itself in all its burning glory, but this one was different, this one was far too large as if someone had come along and thrown an Engorgement Charm at it. There was a long burning slash across her chest piece and Atlas grimaced, rolling out of the way of yet another pair of relentless attacks.

The hedges surrounding went up in flames, only to heal over and over again, fueling the fires more and more. Sweat pooled at the sides of Atlas’s head as she readied herself, glancing back to make sure she wasn’t about to get trapped between two bodies of fire. The Ashwinder rose to tower over her, tongue slick and flickering as Atlas gulped, the flame shadowing the ridges of her face and reflecting off of her golden eyes in a way that made the scene horrifyingly bewitching.

Hair sticking to her forehead, blood weeping from open wounds and golden eyes flashing, Atlas lowered her wand slowly. And maybe this wasn’t a good time, and maybe Atlas would be left off worse for trying but she couldn’t help but let the wobbly parseltongue fall from her lips, her hands up in surrender as the snake eyed her sceptically, watching her every move as she manoeuvred around it so that they had swapped places.

She stopped after a moment but immediately rolled backwards when the Ashwinder struck again. So the parseltongue worked but she was still relatively rusty and hadn’t been speaking sentences, rather, random words she hoped would confuse the beast. It had but now it was even angrier. She drew her wand again and held it so it was aimed to the sky.

“Aguamenti!”

A pillar of water shot into the sky, falling out flat when it reached its peak and rained down upon them, quelling the fires that roared within that section of the maze and subsequently cooling the Ashwinder as a result, leaving it a hard obsidian colour, it’s movements jarring and robotic. Atlas muttered a quick apology and turned to sprint the other way, taking off her chest piece as it was just dead weight at this point. It was charred and sliced in too many directions, leaving openings and gaps in which small beings could get through without her notice.

So she abandoned it in a hedge and simply ran, continuing North West with her wand poised and eyes golden. A sudden blast cut her short, however, as she turned a corner, a great looming figure crawling over to her through the darkness. It was one of Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Screwts. She twisted quickly, watching as its pincer struck the air where her head once was and spun around to sprint the other way, flames chasing after her.

She paused at a junction of two paths, spinning around to see just how far she had gotten from the Skrewt, her senses on overdrive. And that’s when she heard it – her – a bloodcurdling scream from the left path that shattered through her inner ramblings. Atlas almost went weak at the knees, stumbling slightly before she straightened herself and ran down the left path.

“Fleur!” Atlas cried, barrelling down paths and through rapidly regrowing thorns, she spun around, hearing it again, this time to her right but it was solid green with a dead end in front of her and no paths that way even she retraced her steps. So she blasted a hole through to the other side and quickly climbed through, feeling as her shirt sleeves were shredded to pieces, the tissue beneath just the same.

And there, in the grass getting slowly swallowed by the maze was Fleur, her wand a yard away and eyes flickering open and closed, Atlas panicked, dropping to her knees and reducing the vines to ash as she hauled the girl away from the wall, sitting her in the middle of the path. Atlas hung over her, lightly tapping her cheek, trying to get some sort of response.

“Fleur! Fleur, can you hear me!?”

“Atlas…?”

“Yeah, Fleur. It’s me. What happened? What — who did this to you?”

“He was…he — Viktor.”

“Viktor?” Atlas breathed, eyes wide as she cradled Fleur in her arms. “Ok…ok, I need to send up a signal.”

“No…no, I want to keep playing.”

“This isn’t a game anymore, Fleur!” Atlas yelled, grabbing Fleur’s wand and rasing it to the sky, the red light illuminated in Fleur’s pale blue eyes as she watched it go all of the way up, right to the top where it exploded. A sticky liquid slowly pooled in Atlas’s palm and her eyes turned downwards, seeing the puddle of blood that had decorated Fleur’s baby blue and white task uniform. “Shit, you’re bleeding!”

Atlas ripped what was left of her sleeve from her shirt, tying it around the gash in Fleur’s arm to stop the blood from flowing to the steadily spreading pool of red beneath her. She wiped her stained palms down her front and quickly swiped a few tears from her cheeks as she tried to shakily finish her knot. 

Something snapped at the mouth of their path and Atlas turned, seeing a figure standing at the end of it, wearing a uniform she recognised as the Durmstrang task clothes. It was Krum and he had come back. Much to Atlas’s luck, now she didn’t have to go looking for the bastard. She stood and without much thought, ran at the boy, hurtling her shoulder into his ribs and knocking him flat, his wand flying through the air and landing someplace far away from his reach.

Nevertheless, he still tried to grab for it, expression scrunched up in discomfort as Atlas pushed his face into the thorns, shouting obscenities into his ear with a bark rivalling her bite. He gave up his pursuit for his wand and slugged Atlas across the face, earning a sickening crack the girl didn’t even wince at, instead, she bounced back and kneed him in the gut, throwing him to the floor and falling to her knees, straddling him with her fists raised.

But she hesitated, knowing her eyes were burning gold and her arms were amplified by magic she didn’t even feel was hers and that was her ruin. Her frightening power not only scared others but it also scared her, terrified her, leading to her greatest and most damning downfall. Just as Dumbledore had told her.

She’d thrown Krum in the direction of his wand and now the boy had flung her from his form, pointing it directly at her with a glazed look that misted his eyes. “Crucio!”

Her entire body seized up, a horrifying cry expelling from her lungs as a searing pain flooded throughout her body- her very being – she felt as if she’d been lit on fire with a million knives pushed deeply into her skin, as if pure and molten lava had replaced the blood within her veins. Being in her own skin, in her own mind was torture and she longed for the sweet release of something to take hold of her and carry her away from this place. Her body had been turned into a prison and her mind was her cell. It was just pure pain, indescribable pain that would surely leave phantoms of itself along Atlas’s skin.

Pain beyond imagining.

“Stupefy!” 

The incessant pain ceased but what lingered, the aching and the remaining agony had Atlas reeling, her chest heaving and her body twitching. She stared up at the star freckled sky and simply was for a moment, only just noticing Harry hanging over her, face pulled into one of dread, of true fear.

“Atlas! Atlas!?”

“Harry…” Atlas panted, “Harry, are you ok?”

“Me!? You’re the one shaking like a leaf!”

“No need to point it out…” Atlas managed, grimacing as she shakily stood, her bloodied knuckles – once firm – no loose and trembling, her wand – once poised – now limp between her fingers. “Thank you…Merlin, I was stupid and I hesitated. He got me.”

“And I got him,” Harry said, scowling down at Krum’s unconscious form. “I knew he was a prick but using the Cruciatus Curse on you…that was…”

“Harry, I think he was bewitched,” Atlas breathed and limped over to the boy, bending to peel back one of his eyelids and sure enough, it was glazed under the moonlight, a telltale sign someone was imperiused…or well, imperiused in a rush. Because this person hadn’t hidden the evidence.

“Should we leave him here?” Harry asked, kicking the boy’s limp body.

“No,” Atlas refuted, looking the way she had left Fleur. The hedge had closed, leaving it as a dead-end and Atlas assumed it was so she could be collected without disturbing them. She hoped that was the case anyway. “Let’s send up sparks and continue together.”

Harry did the honours, Atlas was far too shaken to do much of anything at the moment and they continued deeper on each other’s arm. Harry told her of the Sphinx he’d gotten past, the Golden ball of mist that reversed gravity and the Boggart disguised as a Dementor. In turn, Atlas told him about the Ashwinder and the Blast-Ended-Screwts, about fighting Krum and burning a large hole through the maze walls and it was almost nice, almost calm until, of course, it wasn’t. It was only the calm before the storm.

An immense form bore down upon them and Harry threw Atlas to the side, rolling the other direction where the giant Acromantula’s gaze focussed, its eight shining black eyes all set on him. Atlas grimaced, finding her legs were still too shaky to stand on her own but if she didn’t do something, anything, Harry would be done for. She looked around frantically, trying to spot her wand only to hear it hum before she saw it, sat prettily in the grass at the mouth of another path.

Atlas lunged for it, glancing down the path and at the shining blue cup at the end of it. They’d found it, the Triwizard Cup was but a few yards away, gleaming in a way that was just so satisfying. They could get out, they were going to get out, Atlas just needed to get the Acromantula away from Harry and they could run, or…Harry could run, she could occupy the spider, she couldn’t run anyway and she’d just be a hindrance. 

As long as Hogwarts won.

She spun back around, watching as Harry fell from the spider’s grasp, crumpling into a heap beneath it.

“Harry!” She shouted and then aimed her wand upwards, wincing as a familiar numbing sensation tickled up her arm and to the tip of her wand, charging it with energy that didn’t belong to her. “Stupefy!”

The spell was powerful, too powerful for one person to cast but it brought down the beast, the Acromantula keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy legs. So she didn’t question it and stumbled over to Harry, getting to her knees in front of him as the boy sat and looked at her dazedly.

“Harry, are you ok?”

“What was that? How did you — ?” Atlas caught it in the reflection of his glasses, what he had seen in her eyes. “Atlas, they’re glowing.”

She blinked, wiping the gold away hurriedly.

“Nevermind that,” Atlas snapped and struggled to her feet, knees weak but able as she pulled Harry from the floor, the boy seemed to also struggle on his legs. What a pair they were. “The Cup is down that path, we’re so close.”

“No…Atlas you go.”

“What?”

“I…I don’t think I can walk.”

“That’s why I’m supporting you,” Atlas urged and shuffled along, getting closer and closer to the cup with some great difficulty, honestly she didn’t think they’d make it but they had to, they just had to. “Come on, we do this together.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Harry said, looking tired and in pain. “The one who reaches the cup first gets the points. That’s you. I’m telling you, I’m not going to win any races on this leg.”

“Me either, Harry. We need to support each other, otherwise, neither of us are getting it,” Atlas pressed. “So we do it…the both of us.”

“What?”

“It’s still a Hogwarts win and I want to do this with you, Harry. My little brother.”

“Right…yeah,” Harry nodded, gulping down the lump in his throat as they stopped in front of the cup, both tired, bleeding, shaky, a little broken and in so much pain. They couldn’t wait to get back, the cup in hand between them. They couldn’t wait for it to be over. “Together then?”

“Together,” Atlas reaffirmed and reached out, Harry doing the same. “On three, Harry. One – two – three -” 

She and Harry both grasped a handle.

Instantly, Atlas felt a jerk somewhere behind her navel and they were gone, the maze now abandoned and the two Champions dropped off far from the finish line.