we don't stop running until bella physically can't anymore.
she stumbles, grip slipping from my arm, and i barely manage to catch her before she collapses again. the maze around us has gone eerily quiet—too quiet, like it's holding its breath.
we duck behind a bend in the hedges, hearts hammering, lungs burning.
for a moment, neither of us speaks.
then bella does.
"your wand," she pants. "where—where is it?"
i swallow.
"he took it."
she freezes. slowly, she looks up at me.
"...who?"
i don't sugarcoat it. there's no point.
"voldemort."
the word feels heavier out loud, like it anchors us to the ground.
bella's eyes widen—not in disbelief, but in cold, sharp understanding.
"so the letters were real," she whispers. "this wasn't just... rumors."
"no." my voice cracks despite myself. "this is real. all of it."
bella winces suddenly, hand flying to her side. the makeshift bandage is soaked through now, red blooming faster than before.
"hey—hey," i say quickly, dropping beside her again. "don't move."
"i'm fine," she lies, jaw clenched. "i've had worse."
i don't believe her for a second.
without thinking, i press my hand over the wound—gentle, desperate, useless—
and something answers.
warmth pulses beneath my palm. not a spell. not words. just intention.
the bleeding slows.
then stops.
bella gasps.
i pull my hand back like i've been burned, staring at it as if it belongs to someone else.
"did you—" bella starts, then stops when she sees my face. "you did that."
"i didn't mean to," i whisper. "i just—i touched you."
she flexes her fingers, experimentally shifts her weight.
"...it doesn't hurt," she says softly. "y/n. it doesn't hurt anymore."
ancient magic.
real. undeniable.
my stomach twists.
"don't tell anyone," i say immediately. "please."
bella nods without hesitation. "i won't."
we sit there for a moment longer, the adrenaline slowly ebbing, replaced by a sickening clarity.
help isn't coming.
no teachers. no officials. no dramatic rescue.
the flare was seen—but the maze is sealed. spelled. locked tight.
we're on our own.
a sound carries through the hedges.
footsteps.
both of us tense instantly.
"nikolai?" bella whispers.
i shake my head.
"doesn't matter," i murmur. "we can't risk it."
even if it is him.
even if it's a friend.
because we've already learned the hard way—nothing in this maze is what it seems.
"run," i say.
we do.
we don't stop until the maze opens again—wider this time, less claustrophobic. the hedges pull back into a clearing littered with scorch marks and broken branches.
and there—standing in the middle of it, chest heaving, wand still raised—
is nikolai.
he turns sharply at the sound of us, eyes wild, ready to strike—
then recognition hits.
"bella," he breathes. "y/n."
he lowers his wand like it suddenly weighs too much.
"are you—are you hurt?" he asks, voice shaking.
bella steps forward. "i was. she fixed it."
nikolai's gaze snaps to me.
i don't explain.
instead, i ask the question burning through my chest.
"what happened here?"
he swallows.
"i ran into someone," he says. "masked. attacking—someone else. i tried to stun him, disarm him—nothing worked."
his hands tremble.
"he laughed at me."
bella and i exchange a look.
"so i panicked," nikolai continues, voice hollow. "and i did the one thing they never teach you to do."
my heart drops.
"...nikolai," i say carefully.
"avada kedavra," he whispers.
the word hangs between us.
bella pales.
"He fell," nikolai says, staring at his own hands. "just—fell. like a puppet with its strings cut."
silence crashes down on us.
i step closer. "you did what you had to."
he shakes his head sharply. "don't. don't say that."
then he looks up, eyes burning with something fierce and terrified.
"there are more of them," he says. "not creatures. people. death eaters."
that confirms it.
the maze isn't just a test.
it's a battlefield.
i exhale slowly, grounding myself.
"okay," i say. "then we stop pretending this is a tournament."
bella nods. "we survive."
nikolai straightens, resolve hardening into place. "together."
i look between them—bella, injured but standing; nikolai, shaken but alive; myself, wandless but still breathing.
help isn't coming.
so it's on us.
"first," i say, "we don't separate."
"second," bella adds, "we avoid anything that looks like the center."
nikolai grimaces. "and if we see him?"
my fingers curl into fists.
"we run," i say. "and we don't look back."
the maze shifts again, hedges grinding like teeth.
the game is still moving.
and now we know the truth.
this isn't about winning.
it's about getting out alive.
——
we move slower after that.
not because we're tired—though we are—but because something has shifted between us. the panic has settled into something sharper. more deliberate. this is no longer about reacting. it's about choosing.
nikolai breaks the silence first.
"durmstrang prepares you for this," he says quietly, eyes scanning the hedges. "they don't censor the dark arts. they teach you what everything does. what it costs."
bella scoffs softly. "and look where that gets people."
he glances at her. "i used it to survive."
"and you did," bella says, firm but not unkind. "that doesn't mean it should be normalized. dark magic should be last resort. self-defense. not... indulgence."
i listen to them argue, heart pounding, thoughts racing.
for years, i've stood exactly where i am now—between. watching both sides speak like they're right.
this time, i don't stay silent.
"bella's right."
they both look at me.
i swallow, forcing the words out even as my chest tightens.
"dark arts without restraint doesn't just protect you," i say. "it creates people like him."
voldemort.
"unregulated power always convinces someone they're above consequence," i continue. "that's how you get another dark lord. another war."
nikolai studies me for a long moment.
"...interesting," he says slowly. "coming from someone with your lineage."
i roll my eyes despite everything. "here we go."
he actually smiles a little. "i did my research. when i found out you were my competition."
bella raises a brow. "research?"
"family names matter," nikolai says. "especially yours." he looks back at me. "are you really descended from grindelwald?"
i don't hesitate.
"yes."
no shame. no pride. just fact.
"and i don't want to be him," i add quietly.
nikolai nods. "fair."
we don't get much farther before the air changes.
it goes cold. unnaturally so.
bella stiffens. "do you feel that?"
i do.
a presence—heavy, suffocating, like despair has weight.
"dementor," nikolai mutters.
my heart drops.
the patronus lessons. that's why.
"run," i say immediately. "now."
we don't wait to see it.
we sprint, boots pounding against stone and dirt, breath tearing from our lungs. the cold follows, scraping at the edges of my thoughts—grief, fear, every regret i've ever buried trying to claw its way up.
without my wand, i'm useless against it.
so we keep running.
the maze opens again, spilling us into another clearing—and this one makes my blood run cold for an entirely different reason.
the cup is there.
right in the center.
gleaming.
and surrounded.
dark cloaks. masked faces. wands at the ready.
death eaters.
"shit," bella whispers.
nikolai grips his wand tighter. "that's the portkey."
"to hogwarts," i say. "if we touch it—"
"we get out," bella finishes. "if we don't—"
we don't say it.
we crouch low, moving carefully, using the hedges as cover. the death eaters are distracted—arguing, scanning the maze, clearly expecting someone else.
not us.
we time it perfectly.
step by step.
breath held.
my heart is so loud i'm convinced they'll hear it.
the cup is within reach.
"together," nikolai murmurs.
we reach for it at the same time.
the world jerks.
and then—
nothing.
⸻
molly's pov
the cup appears first.
just—appears.
one second the maze is still, the next the triwizard cup slams into the grass outside the hedges, glowing faintly.
the crowd erupts.
"they did it!" someone shouts.
but then—
molly's smile falters.
no one comes with it.
no y/n.
no bella.
no nikolai.
just the cup.
alone.
her stomach drops as the cheers turn into confused murmurs.
"where are they?" someone asks.
and molly already knows.
something has gone horribly, terrifyingly wrong.