The grassy land stretched out before you like a sea of green. The sun had begun to dip behind the hills, streaking the clouds with pink and gold. It felt like one of those rare moments at Hogwarts where nothing could touch you.

Hannah Abbott ran ahead, laughing breathlessly as the tall grass brushed against her legs. You chased after her, the soft earth sinking underfoot. Cedric Diggory kept pace with both of you, his wand drawn, his eyes scanning the horizon like a soldier on patrol.

“C’mon, stop worrying, Ced!” Hannah called, spinning in a lazy circle. “It’s just grass and wind!”

“Yeah,” you added, though a tight knot still coiled in your stomach. “What could possibly go wrong in a place this pretty?”

Then you saw it.

A gleam of silver half-buried in the earth.

“Wait,” Cedric said, kneeling down. He brushed away the dirt, his eyes going wide. It was the Sword of Godric Gryffindor.

“What in Merlin’s beard is that doing here?” Hannah breathed, staring at the gleaming rubies in the hilt.

Cedric’s lips quirked into a grin. “Means we’re safe,” he said, hefting the sword with both hands. “No way anything evil’s hanging around this.”

And for a little while, it felt true.

You played. You ran. Hannah picked flowers, you chased butterflies like some first-year, and Cedric stood like a king in the field, sword in hand, laughing as he pretended to fend off invisible enemies.

“Behold, the Defender of the Puffs!” he joked, brandishing the sword.

But then — everything changed.

The sky went black. A thick, unnatural cloud rolled in fast, swallowing up the last of the sunset like a curtain yanking shut.

“Um… guys?” you called.

A rumble echoed from above. Then lightning, thick as a tree trunk, split the sky and slammed into the earth nearby — the blast throwing you all to the ground.

It left a massive, smoking crater, the earth cracked and steaming.

“RUN!” Cedric bellowed, grabbing the sword tighter.

No more games. No more pretending.

You ran, Hannah clutching your sleeve, Cedric at your side as the dark clouds swirled, unnatural and alive. Another bolt struck behind you, and the ground trembled.

At last — up ahead — an opening. A clearing, scattered with terrified students.

You burst through it, panting and covered in dirt and ash.

But no George. No Fred. Neville looked shattered. And from the haunted look in Fred’s eyes… you didn’t have to ask.