By the time dusk settled over the grounds, the organizers of the tournament had finally completed the transformation of the Quidditch pitch for the third task.

They followed the completion by covering the entire area with towering hedges, ensuring that no one would be able to catch a glimpse of the interior until the appointed time.

In truth, the hedges were almost unnecessary, as a thick and unnatural mist had already begun to blanket the area as the beginning part of the challenge.

“Let us go and fetch the champions, shall we?” Ludo Bagman muttered under his breath.

The man appeared nearly manic, his movements twitchy and his eyes darting about with the frantic energy of someone crushed by the weight of mounting debts.

The workers were still putting the finishing touches on the stands when Bagman hurried away to gather the students.

While the attention of the crowd was elsewhere, something went unnoticed by everyone standing near the perimeter of the hedge.

The Goblet of Fire, resting deep within the maze, had begun to change. Its flickering flames turned a deep and sickening blood red, the fire swirling and flowing with the consistency of liquid before it tore a spatial connection to another place entirely.

It was a place saturated with the foulest dark magic. Inky black substances began to leak from the swirling tear in space, seeping through the maze like a spreading poison.

The vegetation inside the task responded to the corruption, twisting and writhing as thorny tendrils formed and lashed out from the once-simple shrubs.

The inky darkness reached the mist next, staining the vapors until they were completely blood red.

Small, dark eyes became visible from within the fog, as if the mist itself now played host to entities that were never meant to be spoken of.

The transformation continued in silence while the people on the other side of the hedge remained blissfully oblivious.

Outside, it took nearly an hour for the audience to settle into the viewing areas while the champions were presented for the task.

Aaric and Fleur stood among them, looking as relaxed as they could possibly be. They were calm because they knew the third task was never actually going to take place.

“I have been waiting for this,” Aaric whispered, leaning in toward Fleur.

“Make him suffer,” Fleur whispered back.

Aaric responded by squeezing her hand before he readied his wand. He did not have much practical use for the wooden tool at this point, especially with how significantly his arsenal of powers had evolved, but he felt a strange urge to hold it.

He suspected his wand might merge with his very being at any moment now, following the path of Edwina and Simon, whose wands had already become a permanent part of their essence.

The girls had performed their own rituals some time ago, and Aaric was certain that all of their wands would be fully merged by the time they eventually departed for the next world.

As the first one scheduled to enter the maze, Aaric stood at the front. When the ropes holding the hedges back were finally cut, the site behind them was revealed to the world.

Gasps of shock echoed through the stands as the swirling blood red mist floated before them, and the dark eyes within the fog watched the crowd with predatory intent.

The gasps were followed quickly by screams. People began to flinch and cry out in sudden pain if their gaze happened to meet those of the things lurking inside the fog.

Aaric looked to his side to see that Cedric and Viktor had both collapsed to the ground, their faces twisted with looks of pure horror.

“It is watching me! It is inside my head! It is scraping inside my skull! Help!” Cedric shouted at the top of his lungs. Beside him, Viktor appeared to be in a similar state of mental agony.

The screaming came to an abrupt halt when Edwina landed gracefully in front of the mist. With a single wave of her hand, she scattered the red vapors into the sky, clearing the air.

“What is wrong with you all?” Cedric shouted toward the judges’ table.

The tournament officials sat stunned in their seats, and Cedric’s anger stemmed from the belief that this nightmare was simply a cruel part of the competition.

“This is not a part of the tournament,” Dumbledore whispered, his voice carrying a rare tremor of realization.

New chaos erupted as the audience started scrambling down the stands, desperate to escape whatever was happening on the pitch.

Mad Eye Moody was suddenly beside Dumbledore, his magical eye spinning wildly in all directions as he assessed the rapidly deteriorating situation.

Teachers and parents rushed to help the children, though they were clearly shaken and confused themselves.

“Mr. Hawthorne, come with me. Someone has interfered with the tournament,” Aaric heard the squeaky, urgent voice of Professor Flitwick beside him. The small man was trying to usher him toward the dorms for safety.

“There is no danger. What is there to fear?”

Every child, teenager, and adult present heard the whisper directly in their minds. The corrupted vegetation within the maze began to part, making way for a line of figures walking toward them.

Voldemort was the first to emerge from the darkness. His pale, snake-like face was pulled into a grin, his red and hateful eyes focusing immediately on Simon.

Simon looked back at the Dark Lord, appearing almost bored by the spectacle.

The teachers, Dumbledore, and the remaining judges scrambled to move in front of the students, standing beside Aaric to face the threat.

By this point, Edwina had moved to Aaric’s side, a serene and untouchable expression on her face.

“Go, child. Join the others,” Professor Flitwick urged Aaric again, but he was interrupted by the cold rasp of Voldemort’s voice.

“No one shall leave. For none have my permission yet,” the Dark Lord spoke. His voice was brimming with enough raw power to make the veteran teachers flinch.

Igor Karkaroff, who had attempted to flee the moment the mist was revealed, let out a scream as he was suddenly dragged back toward the Quidditch pitch.

It looked as though an invisible hand was pulling him by the leg across the grass. While Karkaroff was being hauled toward them, Aaric felt Harry and Pyra walk up to stand silently by his side.

Aaric glanced sideways, his dark eyes meeting the green ones of the Boy Who Lived. There was a burning anger in those green orbs, but it was tempered by something else. There was patience.

Harry stood there in silence, watching every move made by Voldemort and the growing army that followed in the Dark Lord’s wake.

“Let us not involve children in our quarrel, Tom,” Dumbledore said, taking a firm and steady step toward his former student.

Voldemort shifted his gaze to look at the man he had once feared more than any other. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, but Voldemort broke the contact with a look of complete disinterest.

He turned his head to see that the majority of his army had now emerged from the portal behind him.

Vampires, werewolves, and dark wizards from across the globe stood behind their master, snarling and laughing at the carnage they imagined would come next.

A/n: Vodly arc is gonna end in the next chapter. And they will be going to the GOT world in the chapter after I finish some chapter in the GOT side story and finish this fic some time after that.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep