❥ 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 ❜

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞

"The Champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," Professor Sprout spoke, smiling at the students before looking at Cedric, only.

"The Champions' families are invited to watch the final task. This is a chance for you to greet them." The teacher had parted with that, returning to the main table of the Hall.

The sentences waltzed their way into ears, leaving blinding light to shine on expressions of three. The heavenly features of the sixth year had not been the only one to shimmer under luminescence — as did those belonged to Draco and Elara.

Ten months, a solid school year, had gone without revisiting the residence of the Diggorys. The holiday of Christmas nor Easter spent with the Hufflepuff couple. To make it all up, bountiful owls were sent and returned. Neatly wrapped presents, framed photographs in vitreous and an abundance of liked sweets, sent forth.

"Hurry up and eat," an ecstatic Cedric uttered to the pair of wide-eyed Slytherin siblings. "I'm sure no one would mind you tagging along."

Radiant beams notioned to be a smile etched onto lips before the rapid game of eating began. Through vision of curious onlookers, of those whom did not hearken Sprout's words, it must've appeared as a food competition. (Not a likable experience if one were to ask for Elara's opinion). Taken in was the certainty to chew and swallow between spoonfuls of bites — the pair would prefer no choking on food, before meeting with their preferred parents.

Rising from the table of Ravenclaws was Fleur Delacour. Krum soon joined the Beauxbatons girl, before entering the side chamber.

At the Gryffindor table, Potter watched his own Head of House walk away after informing him that family awaited him in the chamber. She had left as though it was not a big deal — but it was! By family McGonagall must've meant biologically related — did the Professor truly believe the Dursleys were going to arrive for him? They would not be the ones to turn up to watch him risk his life. Well, they'd likely prefer it if he died along the way of such sort, which was and sounded . . . gruesome.

Steady as stone architecture in his seat, the raven-haired boy secretly coveted that be his godfather and Uncle Moony, to show in the chamber. Those two would be much better options than the Dursleys — in every aspect there was to pick from.

The thought of heading to the library fluttered it's golden wings into Potter's mind, passing numerous layers of skin to feed on nectar of a flower. At the same moment, his eyes locked onto a figure; one belonged to a girl being pushed in his direction.

"Why am I the one to do it?" the girl abstained all the boys planned, smacking away their hands on her back.

"He's your little boyfriend," it was a shock to find neither puking at the last word escaping their mouth. Feigning such a sweet and innocent smile, Cedric and Draco continued to shove the girl towards the table. Hoping she'd fall prey into the mouth of a certain lion. "Now go. Shoo."

"Talk to me like a dog one more time and I'll—" unable to finish, just about to brandish her wand, Elara found herself standing before the Gryffindor table. ( how wonderful! ) She'd been so distracted — cursing the boys in French, in her mind of course — that she failed to notice how close they'd gotten, until the final destination was reached.

The sway of a uniform skirt and covered skin collided against his knee. A partial amused glint layered the canvas of his features. Staring perplexed, attentive eyes flickering back and forth between three faces, Potter wondered "what are you doing?"