lovergirl───cedric diggory

23 | andromeda

'What are you doing? What the hell do you think you're doing?'

Krum's response cut through the air, malevolence dripping from his tone. 'Crucio!'

Every muscle in Aimee's body stopped dead as the once serene night was now marred by the haunting chorus of Cedric's anguished cries.

Aimee sprinted furiously, her desperate attempt to reach Cedric consuming her every thought. Using her wand, she seared a path through the hedge, tearing her robes in the process and twisting her foot behind her. Gasping in pain, she emerged onto the scene, Cedric's jaw clenched in pain as he swallowed back cries, Krum looming above him.

Without a second thought, Aimee shouted, 'Stupefy!'

Krum crumpled to the ground, motionless and defeated. Darting towards Cedric, she knelt at his side, panicked hands cupping his face.

'Cedric, oh my God, are you okay?'

He nodded, pale and shaken. 'I can't believe it. I thought Krum was okay.'

Their hands intertwined, Aimee sat beside Cedric amidst the soft grass, the darkness once again heavy with silence.

'Me too,' she whispered. 'I think he might have got Fleur as well ... I heard her scream ...'

Their gazes locked, fear mirrored in each other's eyes as Cedric said quietly, 'Should we go on?'

With a resolute nod, Aimee and Cedric pressed forward. His arm around her waist supported her leg that she had twisted in an attempt to find him. They turned a few more corners, the maze a cacophony of whispers and insanity, until, through the leaves of the hedge, Aimee saw a glimmering blue orb just around the corner. A sense of relief surged within Aimee as her gaze fell on the Triwizard Cup.

'Cedric,' she whispered. 'I think it's over, I think we're safe.'

Cedric nodded towards the Cup, his eyes blazing with determination. 'You take it. You saved my life back there.'

Aimee shook her head. 'I'm not even a real champion. You take it, you deserve it.'

But Cedric refused to relent, his resolve unyielding as he said, 'We'll take it together.'

With the weight of the task dissipating into the air, Aimee stretched her hand towards the gleaming handles of the Triwizard Cup.

'On three,' she whispered. 'One, two -'

They both reached out and grasped a handle of the Cup, but Aimee wasn't met with the celebration she'd anticipated; in an instant, the ground beneath them disappeared, replaced by a powerful gust of wind and as the Cup pulled both her and Cedric skyward in a kaleidoscope of swirling colours.

A deafening thud rattled through Aimee's body as her feet slammed into the ground. Her injured leg gave way under the impact, sending her sprawling forward. In the ensuing chaos, her hand instinctively released its grip on the Triwizard Cup, causing it to bounce a few feet away, gleaming blue in the darkness.

'Where are we?' she whispered.

Cedric shook his head, his expression mirroring her confusion. He reached out, helping Aimee to her feet. As they scanned their unfamiliar surroundings, they found themselves standing in the midst of a desolate graveyard, a grey haze covering the yard like a cloak of death and disease. To their right, the black silhouette of a small church peeked through the overgrown foliage, stark against the night sky.

'Were we meant to know the Cup was a Portkey?' Cedric asked.

Aimee shook her head, her voice tinged with unease, 'I don't know. Is this supposed to be part of the task?'

Their uncertainty hung in the air.

'Keep your wand out, Aims,' said Cedric quietly.

Aimee gripped her wand tightly, her nervous fingers betraying her fear. Her gaze darted around the graveyard, her senses screaming that they were being watched.

'Someone's coming,' Cedric whispered.

Aimee's eyes fixated on the figure that emerged from the shadows, trampling over gravestones as it approached. The cloaked figure stood short, his face concealed beneath the hood, although Aimee thought that if he revealed his face, he'd look like a fucking rat who betrayed his friends like a total loser [a/n: sorry i'm a marauders girly and this is killing me]. A mysterious bundle of robes was clutched in his arms.

Dread tightened its grip on Aimee's heart as the man closed in on them, his strength surprising in its intensity. In a flurry of motion, he bound Aimee and Cedric to separate headstones with conjured ropes, wrenching their wands from their grasp.

Panic enveloped Aimee as she struggled against the confines of her restraints. She felt like Andromeda, chained to a cliff to be eaten by a monster. Her eyes fixated on the Triwizard Cup, tantalisingly gleaming a mere thirty feet away. However, her attention was abruptly pulled towards the ominous bundle of robes, nestling ominously at the foot of the grave below them, beside a massive cauldron. She was terrified of what was concealed beneath the cloth.

The liquid within the cauldron began to bubble with a searing fervour, fiery sparks dancing atop its surface, as though it were on fire. A dense mist enveloped the graveyard, obscuring its boundaries within a horrifying, mystic haze. With trembling hands, the man unfurled the bundle of robes, revealing a grotesque sight that robbed Aimee of her breathing; a distorted child, hairless and scaled, a dark, raw reddish-black glow emanating from its frail frame. Its snakelike face bore gleaming red eyes, while its feeble limbs trembled in its robes.

The man lowered the creature into the bubbling cauldron, his wand raised high. His voice quivered as he recited the incantation, 'Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!'

The grave beneath their feet cracked, a fine dust rising into the air, gracefully cascading into the churning brew. A vivid, poisonous blue tint tainted the liquid.

Aimee glanced over at Cedric, tied just out of reach on the next headstone. Pure, unfiltered panic was shining in his eyes.

The man's unsteady hands pulled a silver dagger from his cloak, shaking with a trepidation that mirrored the fear in Aimee's heart. The man stammered, his words laced with desperation, 'Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master.'

His right hand thrust forward, the knife slicing through the evening in a chilling arc. Aimee squeezed her eyes shut, but the anguished scream that pierced the night ricocheted through her mind, as the man's hand plummeted into the cauldron, consumed by its fiery depths. The potion morphed, turning a burning shade of red.

The man was approaching Aimee now, and there was nothing she could do to hold him back as he muttered his final incantation, 'Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.'

Without warning, the dagger pierced Aimee's flesh, a ribbon of crimson trickling down her arm, and into the cauldron below. A strangled sob left her lips as the liquid transmuted into a blinding white, a surge of white steam billowing forth, engulfing everything in its wake.

Enemy of who? Aimee didn't have any enemies that she knew of ... and if what was happening was what the nausea in her gut was suspecting, why her?

As the mist dissipated, Aimee's gaze caught onto an eerie silhouette emerging from within the cauldron. It rose gradually, tall and skeletal, skin tinged a murky grey as a vivid green Dark Mark pierced the sky.