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elikajinnie · 20 days ago

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The Goblet Of Hate And Suffering - P.S

P: Durmstrang!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @rustymoons <3 (hope you like it!)

Warnings: Angst, Ex-Lovers, Hurt/No Comfort.

Synopsis: The Triwizard Tournament should be thrilling, but not when it means facing your ex, Sunghoon—the boy who vanished from your life without a word years ago.

a/n: okay this really took everything out of me xD i had the movie on replay besides me to keep up xD some things are different though as i had to adapt and not take it fully from the movie.

see request here -- hogwarts au masterlist

Hogwarts was, in your opinion, one of the best wizarding schools in the world. How could it not be? You loved everything about it. Being there was like living in a dream, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

This year, though? This year felt special. It wasn’t just any ordinary year—it was the year. The Triwizard Tournament was set to begin, a once-in-a-lifetime event that brought wizards and witches from other schools right into Hogwarts' walls. And if that wasn’t enough to set your heart racing, there was the Yule Ball.

So before the start of the year when your friends invited you to the Quidditch World Cup, you didn’t hesitate for a second to accept the invite. How could you possibly say no?

The moment you stepped into the enormous stadium, your heart had practically leapt out of your chest. It was massive—larger than anything you could have ever imagined, with stands that stretched so high it felt like you could reach out and touch the clouds. And now, as you sat among the sea of cheering fans, the colors of Ireland’s emerald green and Bulgaria’s crimson red swirling together in a chaotic, dazzling display, you could hardly contain your excitement.

The Irish team soared onto the field first, their green robes shimmering in the stadium’s enchanted lights. The leprechaun mascots darted above them, leaving trails of gold sparks in their wake, and you cheered with all your might, your voice nearly getting lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. It didn’t matter, though—you could feel the energy buzzing through you, as if you were part of something monumental.

"Did you see that entrance?" one of your friends shouted over the noise, nudging your shoulder. You grinned, unable to tear your eyes away from the players looping gracefully in formation.

"Brilliant!" you yelled back, clapping so hard your palms stung. "They’re going to destroy Bulgaria!"

“Don’t count Viktor Krum out just yet!” another friend argued, their voice full of competitive glee. “He’s the best Seeker in the world for a reason.” You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing the Bulgarian team take to the skies moments later. Krum himself was a force of nature, cutting through the air with effortless precision. A part of you couldn’t help but admire his skill, though you weren’t about to admit it out loud.

But just as your attention shifted back to the Irish Chasers speeding across the pitch, something else caught your eye—a blur of red robes twisting and flipping through the air in a dazzling display of skill.

You squinted, leaning forward in your seat as the figure effortlessly flipped on their broomstick, narrowly dodging a Bludger before sending it hurtling back across the pitch. The force behind the hit was incredible, and the crowd erupted into cheers as it nearly unseated one of the Irish Chasers. Whoever that was, they were good—too good.

“Who’s that?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the roar of the stadium.

One of your friends leaned in, grinning as they pointed toward the player. “That’s Park Sunghoon! Bulgaria’s star Beater. Isn’t he incredible?”

Your heart stopped.

Park Sunghoon?

No, it couldn’t be.

The name echoed in your mind, dragging you back to memories you had buried long ago. Childhood laughter, stolen glances, the warmth of holding hands under the winter sky—those memories had once meant everything to you. But they’d been shattered just as easily as they were made.

You stared at the figure in the sky, your heart pounding as if it were trying to break free from your chest. Even from this distance, you could make out the sharp features of his face, the way his dark hair was pushed back by the wind, the familiar confidence in every move he made. It was him.

The boy who had left you.

The boy who had broken your heart.

Your hands tightened around the edge of your seat as you tried to steady your breathing. He hadn’t just left—he’d vanished, disappeared from your life without a trace. No goodbye, no letter, no explanation. One day he was there, the next he was gone, and you were left wondering what you’d done wrong.

And now here he was, soaring through the air like he hadn’t once meant the world to you and then destroyed it.

“Are you okay?” your friend asked, nudging you gently.

You forced yourself to nod, though your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely steady. “Just surprised, that’s all. I… I didn’t know he played for Bulgaria.”

Your friend chuckled. “He’s been their Beater for a few years now. A real prodigy, apparently.”

You bit your lip, your gaze never leaving him as he soared through the air, completely unaware of your presence in the crowd. A prodigy. Of course he was. He’d always been talented—good at everything he did. But that didn’t change what he’d done to you.

As the game continued, you tried to focus on the match, on the thrill of the Quaffle being passed and the Bludgers ricocheting through the air. But no matter how hard you tried, your eyes kept drifting back to him.

Park Sunghoon.

The boy you’d once loved. The boy you now hated.

The game went on, but your excitement had dulled, replaced by a heavy weight in your chest. So this was where Sunghoon had been all these years, living a life that seemed as untouchable. You couldn’t help but feel bitter. While you had spent so long trying to pick up the pieces of what he left behind, he had been here, chasing glory.

Your gaze flicked back to him, even though you wished it wouldn’t. You watched as he hit bludger after bludger with perfect precision, his every move calculated and controlled. The way he maneuvered his broom was flawless, almost effortless, as if he were born to be up there.

The crowd roared when he sent a Bludger careening toward one of Ireland’s Chasers, nearly knocking them clean off their broom. Sunghoon didn’t even look back to see if it landed. He just smirked—smirked—like he already knew the damage was done.

That same smirk used to make your heart flutter. Now, it made your stomach churn.

“He’s unbelievable,” your friend said beside you, shaking their head in awe. “You can tell he’s got nerves of steel. Never seen anyone handle a Bludger like that.”

You forced a tight smile, nodding just enough to seem engaged, but your thoughts were elsewhere. It was strange, seeing him again after all this time, yet not entirely surprising. Of course, Sunghoon would end up here, in front of a massive crowd, basking in the spotlight. He’d always been good at standing out, at making people notice him. You just wished you weren’t one of them.

“Why do you look like you’re about to hex someone?” your other friend teased, nudging you with their elbow.

You blinked, realizing you’d been gripping the edge of your seat so tightly that your knuckles had turned white. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice betrayed the lie.

But you weren’t fine. You couldn’t shake the memories of his laugh, his promises, the way he’d told you once—so sincerely—that he’d never leave you. And yet, he had. Without warning, without explanation, he’d vanished from your life like you’d meant nothing to him.

The game’s pace quickened, but you couldn’t focus. Your attention kept returning to him, to the way he moved, so confident and sure of himself. You wondered if he even thought of you anymore. Did he remember the promises he’d made? The summers you’d spent together? Did he ever regret what he’d done, or had he left it all behind as easily as he’d left you?

When the final whistle blew and the game ended with Ireland’s victory, the stadium erupted into cheers. Your friends jumped up, clapping and hollering, but you stayed rooted to your seat, staring blankly at the field as the players descended from the sky.

Sunghoon landed with the rest of the Bulgarian team, his broom slung casually over his shoulder as he laughed at something one of his teammates said. He looked so… unbothered. Like he hadn’t shattered someone’s heart all those years ago. Like he didn’t even know you were there, watching him from the stands.

And maybe he didn’t. Maybe you didn’t matter to him anymore.

After the match, you followed your friends out of the stadium, their excited chatter filling the air around you. They were still buzzing from the game, reenacting their favorite moments and arguing about who had played the best. You forced yourself to smile, to nod along and laugh at the right moments, but your mind was miles away.

By the time you reached the tent you were all sharing, the exhaustion from the day was starting to catch up with you—not just from the excitement of the World Cup, but from seeing him. You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on keeping your friends from noticing that anything was wrong. They didn’t know about Sunghoon. They didn’t know what he’d meant to you—or what he’d done to you.

And you weren’t about to tell them.

“Can you believe that Bludger hit in the second half?” one of your friends exclaimed as they flopped onto their cot, still brimming with energy. “That was insane! I swear, Park Sunghoon almost took that guy’s head off!”

You froze for a moment, but quickly forced yourself to shrug as you started unpacking your things. “Yeah, it was pretty impressive,” you said, keeping your tone light.

“Pretty impressive? That was legendary!” another friend chimed in, throwing their arms up dramatically. “No wonder everyone’s obsessed with him. He’s a total star.”

You laughed softly, though it felt hollow. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re not!” they teased, pointing at you with mock disbelief. “Come on, even you have to admit he’s incredible.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to focus on unrolling your sleeping bag. “Yeah, yeah, he’s talented. Can we move on now?”

Your friends laughed, and thankfully, the conversation shifted to other parts of the game. But even as you listened to them, nodding and adding a comment here or there, your mind kept drifting back to Sunghoon.

What were the odds that he’d be here, of all places? That you’d see him after so many years, so many unanswered questions? You hated how easily he’d managed to worm his way back into your thoughts, how the sight of him had unraveled the carefully built walls you’d constructed around those memories.

“Hey, you okay?” one of your friends asked suddenly, breaking through your haze.

You blinked, realizing you’d been staring blankly at your hands. “Yeah,” you said quickly, offering them a small smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Fair enough,” they said, stretching out on their cot with a yawn. “That match was exhausting to watch, let alone live through.”

You nodded, grateful for the excuse as you turned away and crawled into your sleeping bag. You faced the side of the tent, your back to your friends, and let out a quiet breath.

It wasn’t like you to dwell on the past. You’d worked so hard to leave all of that behind, to move on. But now, with Sunghoon’s name echoing in your head and the memory of his smirk burned into your mind, you weren’t so sure you could.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to fall asleep. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. Because no matter how much your heart ached, you couldn’t let yourself go back to that place. Not after everything.

But one simple thought lingered in your mind: What would you do if you saw him again?

The distant sound of fireworks pulled you from your restless thoughts. At first, you thought it might just be the crowd outside celebrating the World Cup—parties like this often went late into the night. But the noises grew louder, more chaotic, and the muffled sounds of shouting sent a chill down your spine.

You sat up in your sleeping bag, your heart already starting to race. Your friends were still talking and laughing, oblivious to the growing commotion outside. Without saying a word, you crawled out of the bag, brushed past them, and unzipped the tent flap.

The sight that greeted you made your blood run cold.

People were running, their faces pale with terror. Screams echoed through the night, and the sky was lit not with celebratory fireworks but with harsh flashes of green and red. And then you saw them—dark figures in masks and robes, moving through the chaos like shadows of death.

Death Eaters.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were frozen, rooted to the spot as the realization sank in. This wasn’t just some drunken brawl or post-match celebration gone wrong. This was an attack.

You turned back into the tent, your voice urgent and trembling. “We need to go. Now.”

Your friends stopped mid-conversation, confusion flashing across their faces. “What are you talking about?” one of them asked.

“Death Eaters,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “They’re here. Outside. We have to leave!”

The panic in your tone must have convinced them because they scrambled to their feet without another word. The tent was abandoned in seconds as you all spilled out into the chaos.

The campsite was a mess of panic and fear. Tents were collapsing as people fled in every direction. Fires blazed, casting flickering shadows across the ground, and the masked figures moved through the crowd, sending spells haphazardly into the air.

“Stay together!” one of your friends shouted, but it was easier said than done. The crowd was a tidal wave, and you could barely keep track of where anyone was.

You ran as fast as you could, weaving through the mass of people, your heart pounding with every step. You tried to stay close to your friends, but the crowd pushed and pulled at you, dragging you further away.

“Wait!” you called out, but your voice was lost in the din of screams and crackling spells.

A sudden explosion nearby sent you sprawling to the ground, dirt and debris flying into your face. You scrambled to your feet, coughing as you wiped the dust from your eyes. Your friends were nowhere to be seen now—just the chaos of the crowd and the ominous figures of Death Eaters looming in the distance.

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to move. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t freeze. The only thing that mattered now was getting out, finding safety, and praying that your friends had done the same.

You, of course, loved when new things happened at Hogwarts. That was why you made sure you had a perfect view of the grand arrivals. You craned your neck along with the rest of the gathered students, excitement buzzing around you.

First came the Beauxbatons carriage, a massive, sky-blue structure that seemed almost too grand to be airborne. Yet there it was, floating gracefully through the sky, pulled by enormous, snow-white horses with wings. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as it descended, landing smoothly on the lawn with an elegance that seemed fitting for the French wizarding school.

You couldn’t help but smile as the Beauxbatons students emerged, their blue silk uniforms shimmering in the light. They moved in perfect synchronization, their grace and poise commanding attention. Even their Headmistress, Madame Maxime, who towered over everyone, carried herself with an air of refined dignity.

But before you could fully admire the carriage’s arrival, the lake began to ripple, the surface breaking apart in shimmering waves.

“The Durmstrang ship!” someone whispered beside you, and all eyes turned toward the water.

The ship emerged slowly, like a great beast rising from the depths, its dark, weathered hull dripping with lake water. It was both eerie and magnificent, its towering masts piercing the sky, flags billowing in the breeze.

Durmstrang students filed out next, their crimson and black uniforms stark against the gray sky. They looked formidable, each of them tall, sharp, and exuding an intimidating confidence. And among them, you noticed Viktor Krum, the Quidditch star, standing out even in the midst of his peers. His presence sent a ripple of whispers through the crowd, but your focus wavered when your gaze caught someone else.

Your breath hitched.

Park Sunghoon.

There he was, standing with the Durmstrang group, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the Hogwarts grounds. His robes fit him perfectly, the deep crimson accentuating his sharp features, and his dark hair was slicked back just like it had been at the Quidditch World Cup.

You froze, every emotion you’d felt at the World Cup flooding back all at once. Shock, anger, and something far more complicated swirled in your chest as you stared at him. He didn’t look your way—of course he didn’t. He probably didn’t even know you were here.

But that didn’t matter. He was here now, at Hogwarts, and there was no escaping it.

“Isn’t this exciting?” one of your friends said beside you, nudging you with a grin. “We’re finally going to meet all these international students!”

You forced a nod, tearing your eyes away from Sunghoon and back to the grand arrivals. But the excitement you’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by a sinking feeling in your stomach.

This was supposed to be your year.

The chatter in the Great Hall was electric as you slipped into your usual spot at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your robe. You tried to focus on the hum of conversations around you, but it was impossible to ignore the nervous flutter in your chest.

Sunghoon was here. He was actually here, walking the same halls you called home.

You tugged at the fabric in your hands, trying to steady your breathing as the hall quieted. Dumbledore rose from his seat, his warm smile spreading across the room as he raised his hands to speak.

“Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts,” he began, his voice carrying easily through the enchanted hall. You leaned back slightly, listening but not fully absorbing the words.

Just as he was finishing his introduction, the doors creaked open, and the sound of hurried footsteps drew everyone’s attention. You stifled a laugh as you saw Filch rushing toward Dumbledore, clutching at his robes like the world was ending.

The two of them whispered hurriedly, and though you couldn’t catch the words, the way Filch waved his arms animatedly made it hard to keep a straight face. After another moment, Filch nodded and scurried back toward the entrance, leaving Dumbledore to clear his throat and return his focus to the students.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling as he looked out over the gathered students, “Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their Headmistress, Madame Maxime!”

With a flourish, Dumbledore gestured toward the doors, and they swung open once again. A quiet gasp swept through the hall as the Beauxbatons students entered,they moved in perfect harmony, a vision of elegance and grace, their soft blue uniforms shimmering as butterflies seemed to materialize and flit around them.

Madame Maxime followed, her towering frame commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

But then Dumbledore spoke again.

“And now, our friends from the north, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang! And their Highmaster Igor Karkaroff.”

You felt your pulse quicken as the Durmstrang students made their entrance.

Their movements were sharp and precise, their staffs sparking with flashes of fire and light as they marched in perfect unison. The rhythmic stomp of their boots echoed through the hall, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

And then, at the end of their group, Viktor Krum appeared. His presence sent a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and for a moment, all eyes were on the famous Seeker.

But yours weren’t.

Because walking beside him, just besides Igor Karkaroff, was Sunghoon.

Your heart dropped as your gaze locked on him, even for just a second. He looked composed, his expression calm and unreadable as always, but there was something about seeing him here, in the Great Hall, that made everything feel far too real.

Panic surged through you, and you quickly turned your head away. You couldn’t let him see you. Not now. Not ever.

Your hands clenched into fists under the table, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to steady yourself. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but you kept your head low, praying he wouldn’t notice you in the crowd.

The Durmstrang students reached the front of the hall, and Karkaroff stepped forward to greet Dumbledore, but you barely registered the words.

Sunghoon was here.

Luckily, you found yourself seated far away from Sunghoon, who was sitting with the Durmstrang students. Your focus remained on your plate, keeping your head down, eyes fixed on the food in front of you as you tried to ignore the turmoil churning in your stomach. You couldn’t help but steal quick glances at the table near the front where Sunghoon was sitting. His presence seemed to hang in the air, like an unresolved knot that you couldn’t untangle. You turned your head quickly whenever you thought he might notice, trying to appear casual, but your heart was racing.

The chatter around you died down as Dumbledore stood up, his presence commanding attention.

“Your attention, please,” Dumbledore called, his voice carrying effortlessly over the crowd. You straightened slightly, curiosity piqued.

He raised his hands, pausing for a moment, allowing the silence to settle in the Great Hall. His voice, when it came again, was full of gravitas.

“I would like to say a few words," he looked around. "Eternal glory,” his words was slow and deliberate, “that is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive. Three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks.”

A murmur rippled through the students at the mention of the danger involved.

“For this reason,” Dumbledore continued, his gaze sweeping the room, “the Ministry has seen fit to set a new rule.”

At that moment, the doors at the back of the hall opened, and a tall, thin man entered—Mr. Bartemius Crouch. He was ushered to the front, where he stood beside Dumbledore.

Mr. Crouch cleared his throat and began to speak. “After much consideration,” he said, “the Ministry has decided that no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to enter the Triwizard Tournament.”

A murmur of surprise and disappointment spread through the hall. Students exchanged glances, some groaning in frustration, others whispering indignantly among themselves. You could see the disappointment on the faces of younger students, especially those who had hoped to be chosen for the Tournament.

The murmurs grew louder, voices rising in protest as the students reacted. You felt a small frown tug at your lips.

But before the murmuring could escalate into full-blown chaos, Dumbledore’s voice rang out, louder and more commanding than ever.

“SILENCE!” he shouted, his tone firm and authoritative.

The hall went quiet in an instant, the only sound now the echo of Dumbledore’s command hanging in the air. Every student seemed to hold their breath, awaiting the next word from the Headmaster. His blue eyes sparkled as he surveyed the room, ensuring no one would dare speak again.

With a swift motion, Dumbledore raised his hand, and there, at the front of the Hall, the Goblet of Fire appeared. A blue flame flickered to life inside it, casting an glow.

“It is from this very Goblet,” Dumbledore said, his voice softer now but no less commanding, “that the champions of the Triwizard Tournament will be selected. If a student wishes to participate, all they must do is write their name on a piece of parchment and throw it into the fire. The Goblet will then choose the most worthy candidates, and their names will be revealed.”

Dumbledore stepped back slightly, and with a flourish, he announced, “And so, I declare that the Triwizard Tournament has begun!”

The next day, after classes, the Great Hall was buzzing with chatter. The Goblet of Fire sat on its pedestal, as students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang gathered around it, their faces alight with excitement as they stepped forward to submit their names.

One by one, students dropped their parchment slips into the Goblet, their expressions a mix of confidence and nerves. You lingered at the edge of the crowd, watching as some strutted forward with exaggerated bravado while others hesitated before tossing their names in.

You had hesitated at first. Surely there was no chance the Goblet would choose you—not when so many others had entered, each with their own skills, talents, and dreams of glory. But something inside you had nudged you forward. You didn’t expect much, but you’d decided to try.

So, slipping through the crowd, you had carefully written your name on a piece of parchment, folded it neatly, and tossed it into the fire. The flames had flared briefly, consuming your name in an instant, before returning to their steady flicker. It was done.

You had just rejoined a group of students who were chatting excitedly about their chances when a wave of murmurs spread through the hall. The sound of heavy boots echoed against the stone floor, and you turned your head toward the commotion.

In came Viktor Krum and Sunghoon, walking side by side, flanked by two other Durmstrang boys you didn’t recognize.

Krum approached the Goblet first, his expression stoic as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment, and dropped it into the flames without hesitation.

Then, with a smirk, Krum turned to Sunghoon, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a gentle shove toward the Goblet. You watched as Sunghoon stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

He pulled out his parchment and stared at it for a moment before tossing it into the flames. The Goblet roared briefly, swallowing his name, and just as he turned to step back, his gaze shifted.

Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes locked onto yours.

For a moment, it felt as though the world had slowed down. His eyes widened slightly, recognition flashing across his face. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

You felt your stomach tighten, heat rising to your cheeks. You quickly huffed, turning away before he could say anything—or worse, before you let your emotions show.

The voices around you blurred as you focused on anything else, anywhere else, willing yourself to calm the storm of emotions threatening to rise.

“Everything okay?” one of your friends asked, nudging you gently.

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Just... thinking about the tournament,” you lied, keeping your voice steady.

After some significant time the Great Hall was filled with students as everyone gathered around the Goblet of Fire. You sat down with your friends at the long table, your heart pounding in anticipation. The conversations around you buzzed with excitement, but you found yourself tuning them out, stealing glances at the Goblet instead.

You avoided looking at Sunghoon, though that was easier said than done. He wasn’t sitting far, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. Every time you caught yourself glancing in his direction, your eyes snapped back to your hands, pretending to fiddle with your robes.

"Now," Dumbledore’s voice suddenly boomed, capturing everyone’s attention, "the moment you have all been waiting for—" he paused for effect, "the champion selection."

The hall fell silent, so quiet you could hear the crackle of the Goblet's flames. Dumbledore raised a hand, and as he approached the Goblet, the flames dimmed slightly, casting a faint glow over the room.

Atmosphere. Nice, you thought to yourself, though your stomach churned nervously.

Finally, he touched the Goblet, and with a dramatic flare, the blue fire turned red, roaring upward before spitting out a small piece of parchment. The paper fluttered through the air, and Dumbledore caught it with ease.

He glanced at the name written there, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. "The Beauxbatons champion is... Kim Seon-mi!"

Applause erupted as Seon-mi, a graceful girl with striking features, rose from her seat at the Beauxbatons table. She walked toward the champion area with the poise of someone who had been preparing for this moment her entire life.

The Goblet flared red again, the fire roaring before another parchment was ejected. Dumbledore caught it as effortlessly as before. "The Durmstrang champion is... Park Sunghoon."

Your breath hitched as you watched Sunghoon stand. He walked confidently up to Dumbledore, shaking his hand before moving to the champion area.

You clenched your fists in your lap, focusing hard on anything but him, willing the moment to pass.

The Goblet flared for the third time, the red flames licking upward and spitting out one last piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it and unfolded it carefully.

"The Hogwarts champion is..." A pause, then your name rang through the hall.

Time seemed to stop. Your name echoed in your ears as your friends erupted into cheers around you, patting your back and shouting their congratulations. You sat frozen for a moment, your heart pounding, unsure if you had heard correctly.

"Go on!" one of your friends urged, nudging you toward the aisle.

Slowly, you rose from your seat, your legs trembling beneath you. The eyes of the entire Great Hall were on you, and you felt their weight like never before. The cheering, the clapping, the sheer noise of it all—it was almost overwhelming.

You walked up to Dumbledore, his warm smile offering a sense of reassurance. He extended his hand, and you shook it firmly, though your own hand felt clammy.

"Congratulations," he said softly, and you nodded, unable to form words.

With that, you walked toward the champions’ area, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. As you joined Seon-mi and Sunghoon, you couldn’t help but feel the intensity of Sunghoon’s gaze again, though you refused to meet his eyes.

You were the Hogwarts champion.

Why should you look at him? Why should you give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence after everything he’d done—or rather, everything he hadn’t done?

He had left you. Without a word, without an explanation, without a single ounce of consideration for how much it would hurt. And for years, he had acted like you didn’t exist. No letters. No effort to stay in touch. Nothing.

So, as far as you were concerned, he didn’t deserve even a glance.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift slightly, as if debating whether to say something. But you kept your expression neutral, your posture strong, pretending that the walls was more captivating than his presence mere feet away.

"Congratulations," Seon-mi said, her voice warm and genuine, breaking the silence as she offered you a small smile.

"Thank you," you replied, returning her smile and grateful for the distraction.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything, but you could feel him still looking at you. You clenched your fists subtly, willing yourself to focus on anything but him.

The next day, you found yourself standing awkwardly alongside Sunghoon and Seon-mi in a small corner of the castle grounds. The autumn breeze was crisp, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees and tugging at the edges of your robes. The morning had started off normally enough, but now you were here, lined up like trophies in front of a camera.

The woman in charge of the commotion was someone who had introduced herself with an exaggerated flourish as Rita Skeeter, a reporter for the Daily Prophet. Her bright green robes shimmered in the sunlight, and her perfectly styled hair didn’t move an inch despite the wind. She was, in a word, dramatic.

The camera clicked rapidly as a wiry man darted around you, capturing shots at every angle. Rita stood off to the side, eyeing the three of you with a shark-like smile, her quill floating in mid-air beside her, scratching furiously on a piece of parchment.

“Lovely, just lovely,” Rita cooed, clapping her hands together. “Our three champions, so young, so promising! This will make an excellent story, I can already tell.”

She turned her attention first to Seon-mi, her gaze sweeping over the Beauxbatons champion. “Tell me, darling,” she purred, stepping closer. “What hides in those large, expressive eyes of yours? Is it determination? Fear? Or perhaps… a secret?”

Seon-mi blinked, looking startled by the question but managing to keep her composure. “I’m simply honored to represent my school,” she replied politely, though the corners of her mouth twitched in what might’ve been discomfort.

Rita didn’t linger long on her, however, before turning to you. Her piercing eyes raked over your face, and you felt like you were being dissected under her gaze. She tilted her head slightly, her quill poised mid-scratch as if it too were studying you.

“And you,” Rita said, her voice almost sing-song. “What thoughts swirl behind that composed face of yours? Hmm? Are you confident in your abilities, or is there a storm brewing within you?”

You stiffened slightly, trying not to let her get under your skin. “I’m focused on the tasks ahead,” you said curtly, refusing to give her the drama she was clearly fishing for.

“Oh, how mysterious,” Rita said, her smile widening. “A picture of resolve, aren’t you? Let’s see if we can crack that facade in time.”

Before you could respond, she had already turned to Sunghoon. Her gaze shifted, lingering on him longer than was comfortable. Her eyes sparkled with a kind of glee as she took in his tall frame and broad shoulders.

“And you, my dear boy,” she said, stepping closer and dramatically gesturing to him. “What lies beneath all those muscles, hmm? Confidence? Strength? Or perhaps… vulnerability?”

Sunghoon didn’t flinch under her gaze, but his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “I’m here to compete,” he said simply, his voice even and detached.

Rita clapped her hands together again, clearly delighted by the responses—or lack thereof—from the three of you. “Oh, I love this group already,” she said with a sly grin. “So much potential, so many untold stories. I’m sure the wizarding world will adore reading about you all.”

You exchanged a glance with Seon-mi, who gave you a subtle shrug as if to say, Just go with it.

Rita gestured for the three of you to stand closer together, her quill darting across the parchment as she continued to scribble furiously. “Now, darlings, one last photo—let’s make it dramatic! Look determined, fierce, ready to take on the world!”

The three of you exchanged awkward looks but complied, standing stiffly as the camera flashed.

As soon as the photo session was over, you were quick to step away, eager to put as much distance between yourself and Rita Skeeter as possible.

As you walked away from the chaotic photo session, it wasn`t long before you and Seon-mi started talking.

“She’s absolutely mad, isn’t she?” Seon-mi said, her soft accent lilting with amusement as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “The way she kept digging for drama—it was like she’s writing a novel, not an article.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “What was that about ‘what hides in your eyes’? I thought she was going to suggest some tragic backstory for you on the spot.”

Seon-mi giggled, shaking her head. “And you—‘a storm brewing behind your composure’? Very ominous.”

“She probably thinks I’m secretly plotting world domination,” you replied dryly, rolling your eyes.

However, the sound of footsteps close behind made you aware that you weren’t entirely alone. A glance over your shoulder confirmed it: Sunghoon was trailing behind, just a step or two away, his expression unreadable.

Seon-mi noticed him too, and her laughter faltered slightly as she gave you a questioning look. You didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your robes.

It was clear he wanted to say something. You could feel it in the way he hovered, the occasional shuffling of his feet or the way he opened his mouth slightly, only to close it again without speaking.

You and Seon-mi exchanged another glance, and she arched a delicate brow at you as if asking, What’s this about?

But you weren’t about to indulge Sunghoon, not after everything. If he wanted to say something, he’d have to figure out how to do it himself.

“So,” you said, turning back to Seon-mi and pointedly ignoring Sunghoon’s presence. “How long do you think it’ll take before that article comes out? My guess is tomorrow, and it’ll be something ridiculous like, ‘The Champions: Secrets, Strengths, and Scandals.’”

Seon-mi laughed again, picking up on your determination to brush off Sunghoon. “Oh, definitely. And she’ll probably exaggerate everything we said. I wouldn’t be surprised if she claims one of us is cursed or something.”

“That sounds exactly like her,” you said with a grin.

Sunghoon cleared his throat softly behind you, and for a split second, you almost turned around. Almost. But you stopped yourself, forcing your attention to stay on Seon-mi.

Seon-mi glanced back at him briefly, then looked at you again, clearly curious but not pressing the matter.

Sunghoon shifted awkwardly, his hand brushing through his hair as though he was trying to think of what to say. But you didn’t give him the chance, quickly filling the silence with another comment to Seon-mi.

“She’s probably going to make it worse by adding some dramatic headline about our ‘secrets,’” you said, smirking. “She’ll make it sound like we’re all hiding something dark and mysterious.”

Seon-mi chuckled, though her eyes flickered back toward Sunghoon once more. “Well, I guess we’ll see soon enough. Let’s just hope she doesn’t turn us into some love triangle nonsense. You know how those types of stories go.”

You tensed slightly at her words but quickly masked it with a laugh. “That would be a disaster.”

The day of the first challenge arrived with a chill in the air that seemed to seep into your bones. The castle was alive with an electric buzz, students whispering excitedly in the corridors, the tension palpable. You tried your best to keep calm, but the knot in your stomach was relentless.

You had barely slept the night before, lying awake in your dormitory, imagining all the ways the challenge could go wrong. The uncertainty of what awaited you was maddening. None of the champions had been told what they’d face, only that it would test their courage, skill, and quick thinking.

As you made your way to the champions' tent on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, you could feel the weight of every stare from your fellow students. Your friends offered you encouraging smiles and pats on the back, but their optimism felt distant compared to the unease bubbling inside you.

Inside the tent, you were greeted by Seon-mi and Sunghoon. Seon-mi looked nervous but determined, smoothing down her pale blue robes as she offered you a small, reassuring smile. Sunghoon stood off to the side, leaning against the tent pole with his arms crossed, his usual confidence replaced by a subtle tension.

“Good luck,” Seon-mi said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Same to you,” you replied, managing a faint smile.

Sunghoon glanced at you, his lips parting slightly as though he wanted to say something. But you quickly looked away, focusing on the commotion outside as the crowd’s cheers grew louder.

The officials entered, holding three small, crystalline spheres that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

“Champions,” one of them began, their voice steady but commanding. “Your first challenge is a test of wits and resilience. Hidden deep within the Forbidden Forest lies the Labyrinth of Whispers. Each of you must navigate its paths, to retrieve magical relics hidden.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Seon-mi, who looked intrigued but tense. Sunghoon, meanwhile, straightened up, his expression unreadable but his shoulders tense.

The official held up the glowing spheres. “Each of these will serve as your guide and key. They will light your path but will also test your worthiness as a champion. You must keep it with you at all times. If you lose it, you forfeit the task.”

Your fingers brushed the cool surface of the sphere as it was handed to you. It pulsed faintly in your hand, like a heartbeat, and for a moment, you could swear you heard a faint whisper coming from it.

“The Labyrinth is alive,” the official continued. “It will attempt to mislead you, confuse you, and perhaps even turn you against yourself. Stay focused, champions. This task will test not only your stamina but your mind.”

As the crowd roared outside, each of you was led to separate entrances of the labyrinth, its towering hedges twisting and pulsing as though they had a mind of their own.

Standing at the threshold, you glanced down at the sphere, which began to glow softly, casting an eerie blue light over your face.

“Champions, you may enter” the voice announced, and with a deep breath, you stepped inside.

The air grew colder the moment you entered, the sounds of the cheering crowd muffled by the dense walls of the maze. The sphere in your hand pulsed gently, its light flickering to guide you forward.

But the labyrinth was nothing like you expected. The paths shifted beneath your feet, the hedges curling and uncurling as if they were alive. Whispers filled the air, faint and unsettling, their words indecipherable but laced with a strange pull that made you want to stop and listen.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus as the sphere brightened, leading you down a path.

The first obstacle came quickly—a swirling mist rose from the ground, obscuring your vision. It shimmered unnaturally, and as you stepped closer, figures began to emerge from the haze.

They were familiar.

Your friends, their faces twisted in fear and accusation. They called out to you, their voices blending with the whispers of the maze. “Why did you leave us? Why didn’t you help us?”

It was an illusion, you told yourself firmly, gripping your wand. But the longer you stood there, the harder it became to move.

The sphere in your hand pulsed sharply, breaking the spell. The mist dissolved, and the figures vanished, leaving you shaken but determined.

Further into the maze, the challenges grew more complex—a riddle spoken by a disembodied voice that demanded an answer before a path would open, a series of enchanted vines that tried to trap you until you cast the right spell to sever them, and a pool of shimmering water that you had to cross without touching it.

And then, just as you thought you were making progress, the maze shifted violently. The path behind you closed, and the hedges ahead twisted into a new formation. You stumbled, clutching the sphere tightly as its glow flickered uncertainly.

You grumbled under your breath, frustration bubbling up as the maze twisted yet again. The hedges seemed to have a mind of their own, changing direction as if to toy with you.

But you didn’t give up. You kept pushing forward, focusing on the gentle pulse of the sphere in your hand. Its glow flickered faintly, as if it was trying to reassure you.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you saw it—there, nestled among the twisting branches of the maze, was a glowing relic. It was an ornate, silver chalice, encrusted with gemstones that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was it—the relic you were sent to find.

You picked it up carefully, feeling its weight in your hand. The moment your fingers touched the cool surface of the chalice, the sphere in your hand pulsed brightly, its light turning a brilliant white. The hedges around you seemed to tremble, and with a sudden, sharp crack, the labyrinth opened up a clear path before you.

A pathway leading directly to the exit.

You couldn’t help but smile as you started walking briskly, the pressure of the maze’s tricks slowly fading away. The light from the sphere illuminated the way, guiding you confidently.

And then, in the distance, you saw it. The edge of the labyrinth. The exit.

You broke into a sprint, heart racing with a mixture of triumph and relief. You burst through the final stretch and out into the open air, the sound of sudden loud applause brusted in the air.

As you caught your breath, basking in the glory, you realized something.

You were the first to make it out of the labyrinth.

“You did it!”

Before you could react, your friends rushed at you, nearly knocking you off your feet as they wrapped you in a tangle of hugs and cheers.

“You were amazing!” one of them exclaimed, shaking your shoulders in giddy excitement.

“First one out? Are you kidding me? That was brilliant! You’re going to crush this tournament!”

You couldn’t help but smile as their words of encouragement washed over you, the sound of their cheers louder than the crowd’s applause.

But then your eyes flickered toward the labyrinth’s exit.

And there he was.

Sunghoon stepped out of the maze, his sphere still glowing faintly in his hand. His dark hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell as he caught his breath.

Your smile faltered.

He scanned the crowd quickly, his eyes landing on you almost immediately. His gaze was sharp, and it made your chest tighten in a way you hated. You could see the faintest trace of something in his expression—surprise, pride, maybe even regret—but you looked away before you could decipher it.

“You okay?” one of your friends asked, noticing your sudden silence.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile back onto your face. “Just tired, that’s all.”

But your heart wasn’t in it anymore.

Even as your friends continued to celebrate around you, patting your back and shouting about how you were destined to win, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Sunghoon’s eyes still lingering on you.

The labyrinth's exit shifted again, and you turned just in time to see Seon-mi stumble out, her sphere glowing faintly as she clutched an ornate relic in her hands. Her face was flushed, her hair slightly disheveled.

“Seon-mi!” you yelled, breaking away from your friends and running toward her.

Her head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and when she saw you running toward her, her lips curled into a tired but radiant smile.

“You did it!” you cheered, throwing your arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. She let out a surprised laugh, nearly dropping her relic as she hugged you back.

“You too!” she said, her voice breathless with exertion. “First place, huh? Absolutely crushing it!”

“Barely,” you teased, stepping back to look her over. “But look at you! That was amazing!”

She let out a small laugh, holding up her relic. “I thought I was done for at least three times in there. That maze is evil.”

“Tell me about it,” you said, shaking your head. “But you made it out—and with style, might I add.”

But then, as the sound of the crowd swelled again, you felt a presence nearby. You glanced over your shoulder and saw Sunghoon standing off to the side, watching the two of you.

His expression was hard to read—somewhere between reserved and contemplative—but his gaze lingered on you just a little too long.

Seon-mi seemed to notice as well, her laughter trailing off as she followed your line of sight. She arched an eyebrow at you, leaning in slightly. “So… what’s the deal with him?”

You shook your head quickly, pulling your attention back to her. “Nothing,” you said, forcing a casual tone. “Let’s just focus on celebrating this, okay?”

Seon-mi gave you a curious look but didn’t press further. Instead, she slung an arm over your shoulder, grinning. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easily! Later, I’m getting the full story.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn’t help but smile.

The cool breeze of the courtyard did little to calm the storm of thoughts in your mind as you sat on the stone bench, books and notes spread out before you. You were determined to be as prepared as possible for the next challenge. Your quill scratched furiously against the parchment as you jotted down strategies and possible spells to master.

You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow fell over your notes.

“Uhm.. hi” came a familiar voice, soft but hesitant.

You froze for a moment before slowly looking up. Sunghoon stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of his Durmstrang coat, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” you asked curtly, frowning as you set your quill down.

“I just… thought I’d check on you,” he said, his voice steady but tentative. His dark eyes scanned your face, searching for something. “You look good.”

You blinked at him, taken aback for a split second before your frown deepened.

“I look good?” you repeated, scoffing. “That’s what you’re starting with?”

Sunghoon shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s been a long time. I just—wanted to see how you’ve been.”

“How I’ve been?” you echoed, your tone sharp. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms as you fixed him with a glare. “You disappear for years, act like I don’t exist, and now you suddenly care about how I’ve been?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. “I—”

“Save it,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I don’t have time for whatever this is. I’m busy.”

You turned your attention back to your notes, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But instead, Sunghoon stayed where he was, his presence looming over you like an unwelcome shadow.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something that sounded like regret.

You let out a bitter laugh, not bothering to look up at him. “Well, congratulations anyways, Sunghoon. You did a fantastic job of it.”

There was a long pause, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable. You could feel his gaze on you, but you refused to meet it.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the distance.

You exhaled sharply, your chest tight with emotions you didn’t want to name. Shaking your head, you forced yourself to focus on your studies again. You didn’t have time to dwell on the past.

You sat at the long table with your housemates, absently picking at your food as they chattered excitedly about the upcoming Yule Ball. The air was full of laughter and bright energy, but you couldn’t shake the distant feeling that seemed to cling to you.

The news had spread like wildfire—people were already planning who they would ask to be their dates. You watched with a faint sense of detachment as a group of boys at the far end of the table gathered their courage, each nervously approaching the girls they had set their sights on. One by one, the proposals were made, and you noticed how the girls blushed, some laughing, others squealing in excitement.

The laughter echoed around you, but you were strangely unaffected. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go—of course, you did—but the thought of asking someone, or even being asked, felt… far away. Maybe it was the pressure of the tournament, or maybe it was something else.

“Are you going to the ball?” someone asked, pulling you back into the conversation.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, probably,” you answered, your voice a little more distant than you intended.

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound too excited about it.”

You shrugged, not quite knowing how to explain. “I just… have other things to focus on right now.”

Your housemates, seemingly unfazed by your answer, continued on with their talk of dresses and tuxedos, and who they thought would be the first to ask who. You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place in the midst of all their enthusiasm.

Later in the day you stepped out of the classroom, still absorbed in your thoughts, when a sudden voice pulled you from your reverie. You turned, slightly startled, to see a Durmstrang boy standing there, his posture straight, a confident but friendly smile on his face.

"Excuse me," he said, his accent thick but clear.

You didn't recognize him immediately, but something about his presence stood out—he had an air of quiet confidence that seemed to command attention. He looked at you intently for a moment before extending his hand in a polite gesture.

"I'm Park Jisung," he introduced himself smoothly. "I was wondering... would you be my date to the Yule Ball?"

You blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of the question. Your first instinct was to look around, as though checking for any signs of teasing or mockery, but there was none. The confidence with which he spoke was genuine, and something about his demeanor made you feel less like a spectacle and more like someone he'd truly wanted to ask.

You hesitated for a moment, before realizing you hadn’t even considered asking anyone to the ball.

"Well..." you began, your voice trailing off as you looked him over once more. He was undoubtedly handsome, and you had to admit, there was something refreshing about his approach. It wasn’t shy or hesitant like some others, nor was it awkward. He had simply asked.

You exhaled slowly, smiling faintly. "I’ll admit… you’re the first one to ask me," you said, your tone a little more playful than you intended. "And I guess I like that you’re confident enough to actually do it."

Jisung’s smile widened, clearly pleased by your response. "So, does that mean I have a yes?"

You paused again, just for a second, but the weight of everything else made it hard to focus on anything else. But here was someone who seemed genuine, without baggage.

"Yeah," you said, finally nodding. "I’ll go with you."

Jisung grinned, looking pleased, his expression softening a little. "Great. I’ll make sure you have a good time, then."

You smiled back, feeling a little lighter than before.

You stood before the mirror, taking one last look at yourself. The gown you wore was a beautiful shade of deep blue, with delicate silver embroidery that caught the light every time you moved. Your hair was styled elegantly, with soft waves that framed your face, and a delicate sparkle of jewelry adorned your neck and wrists. Despite the reflection staring back at you, a feeling of unease lingered in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t look good—no, you felt pretty, even confident in the gown. But your mind was elsewhere.

Sighing, you turned away from the mirror and took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun. You didn’t want to ruin it by overthinking.

As you made your way to the Grand Hall, your steps quickened, a sense of anticipation growing within you. The music and chatter filled the air as you approached, and just as you were about to enter, you were suddenly ushered inside by none other than Professor McGonagall.

“Ah, there you are,” she said with a kind smile, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You look stunning tonight. Enjoy yourself.”

You nodded, smiling in return, and walked into the hall, where the grand spectacle awaited. The chandeliers glittered above, casting a warm glow on the swirling dancers below, their laughter and joy filling the room.

There, standing near the edge of the floor, was Jisung. He was dressed impeccably, looking every bit the gentleman in his sleek suit. When he saw you, his face brightened, and he gave you a warm smile. He took a step toward you, bowing deeply with a flourish.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his voice genuine and kind. He reached out a hand, and you placed yours in his, letting him gently lead you onto the dance floor.

As the music swelled, Jisung guided you gracefully, his movements smooth and practiced. You couldn’t help but be impressed by how well he moved—he was a good dancer, relaxed, and seemed to know exactly how to hold you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept away, forgetting everything else.

But then, you caught sight of him.

Sunghoon.

And with him was Wonyoung.

Your heart skipped, a flutter of nerves taking over as you saw the two of them talking, laughing together. Wonyoung, the elegant Beauxbatons student you’d gotten to know a little through Seon-mi, was standing so gracefully beside him, laughing at something he had said. She was every bit the picture of poise and beauty. Her long, shiny hair cascaded down her back, and her eyes sparkled with charm as she spoke. It was hard not to admire her—she was one of the most beautiful girls you’d met, and she carried herself with such effortless grace. You had nothing but kindness for her, but seeing them together made your stomach twist in a way you hadn’t expected.

Wonyoung's family was one of the wealthiest in France, and it showed in the way she carried herself—refined, composed, and effortlessly elegant. Everything about her seemed so perfect, and in comparison, you felt almost... ordinary.

You had always tried not to let those insecurities show, but seeing Sunghoon with her, so at ease, made you wonder if you'd ever really meant anything to him at all. You quickly looked away, focusing instead on Jisung, who was still guiding you through the dance with ease.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sensing your change in demeanor. His eyes softened with concern.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just a little distracted, I guess.”

Jisung gave you a knowing smile. “It’s a big night. I can’t say I blame you for having a lot on your mind.”

You let out a breath, grateful for his understanding.

As the night wore on, you allowed yourself to enjoy the dance, the music, and the lighthearted conversation with Jisung. His presence was calming, and his gentleness made it easy for you to forget about the stress that had been gnawing at you. He was attentive without being overbearing, asking questions, and making sure you were comfortable. He never pushed, never rushed. It was a kindness that was rare, and you couldn't help but be grateful for it.

You weren’t thinking about the pressure or the heartbreak—you were just here, in the moment, dancing with someone who genuinely cared.

As the night continued, you found yourself smiling without restraint. Jisung's soft laughter filled the air as he spun you around with grace. And when the song ended, he pulled you gently to a stop, holding your hand as he looked at you, his eyes soft.

"You've got the best smile," he said, his voice low but warm, "It's nice to see you so... carefree."

You blushed, a soft warmth spreading across your cheeks, but you didn’t look away. "Thank you," you said, smiling back at him.

"Anytime," Jisung replied, and his eyes sparkled with genuine kindness.

The day of the second challenge had arrived, and despite the tension in the air, you and Seon-mi couldn’t help but find small moments of humor. The two of you sat together, sharing sweets from a small pouch she had brought along.

“These are amazing,” you mumbled, popping another sugary treat into your mouth.

“Right? My mom sends them from home,” Seon-mi said with a proud grin. “I swear they’re the only thing keeping me sane during all this madness.”

You both started snickering as she nudged you with her shoulder, and you nudged her right back. The lightheartedness between the two of you felt like a much-needed reprieve from the stress of the tournament.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Sunghoon standing a short distance away with Krum and a couple of Durmstrang students. They were speaking in low tones, their expressions serious as they seemed to discuss strategy.

But Sunghoon wasn’t paying attention to Krum.

Every so often, his gaze flickered over to where you and Seon-mi were laughing, his brow furrowing slightly as though he was trying to figure out what was so funny.

Seon-mi caught on and leaned closer to you. “He’s staring again,” she whispered, her voice laced with teasing.

You glanced over briefly, meeting Sunghoon’s eyes for half a second before quickly looking away. “Let him,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging as you reached for another sweet.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on there?” Seon-mi asked, her grin mischievous.

“Absolutely nothing,” you said firmly, though the slight edge in your tone made Seon-mi raise an eyebrow.

“Alright, alright,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But if he keeps looking at you like that, I might start thinking he’s got something to say.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing her off. “He can keep whatever he wants to say to himself.”

Just then, a whistle blew, signaling that the champions should gather at the starting line. The lighthearted atmosphere shifted as the reality of the challenge set in, and you exchanged a quick look with Seon-mi.

“Let’s do this,” she said, offering you a fist bump.

You knocked your fist against hers, giving her a small smile. “Let’s.”

The crowd gathered around the edge of the massive lake, buzzing with anticipation as the cold morning air nipped at your skin. You stood with Seon-mi and Sunghoon on the raised platform overlooking the water, your nerves bubbling beneath the surface, though you tried to appear calm.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his long silver beard glinting faintly in the pale sunlight. The murmurs in the crowd quieted as his voice, amplified by magic, rang out clearly across the grounds.

“Champions!” he began, a warm yet commanding tone in his voice. “For your second challenge, you will face one of the most formidable and ancient tests: navigating the depths of the Black Lake.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you could hear a collective gasp ripple through the students behind you. Even Seon-mi shifted nervously beside you.

Dumbledore continued, “Hidden beneath these waters are treasures most precious to you—each chosen specifically for this challenge. Your task is to retrieve these treasures and return them safely to the surface. But beware… the lake holds many secrets, and its creatures are not known for their kindness.”

The mention of creatures sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your face neutral.

“The time limit is one hour,” Dumbledore added, his gaze sweeping across the champions. “Failure to return within this time will result in… unfortunate consequences for what you leave behind.”

The cryptic phrasing made your stomach turn, and you couldn’t help but glance at the still, dark surface of the lake. The Black Lake had always seemed mysterious, but now it felt downright menacing.

“Your wands will, of course, be allowed,” Dumbledore added. “You may use any spell, charm, or potion you’ve prepared to aid you. The challenge begins shortly—champions, prepare yourselves.”

As the crowd broke into excited murmurs, Ludo Bagman stepped up to add his usual theatrical flair. “Ladies and gentlemen! Gather around and make your bets—oh, er, I mean—place your predictions! Who will prevail in this challenge of skill, bravery, and a touch of aquatic ingenuity?”

You barely paid attention to him as you turned to Seon-mi, who gave you a slightly nervous smile. “What do you think they mean by ‘most precious to you’?” she asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your mind racing with possibilities.

Before either of you could speculate further, Igor Karkaroff approached Sunghoon, muttering instructions in his ear. You noticed Sunghoon glance at you briefly before nodding, his jaw tightening.

“You’ll be fine,” Seon-mi whispered, nudging you gently. “We’ve got this.”

You nodded, giving her a small, determined smile. “Yeah, we do.”

The sound of the starting gunshot echoed, and without hesitation, you dove forward. As you leapt off the platform, you muttered the Bubble-Head Charm under your breath, feeling the familiar sensation of the magical air bubble forming around your face just as you hit the freezing surface of the Black Lake.

The cold water wrapped around you like an icy embrace, sending a shiver through your entire body. You pushed through it, forcing yourself to focus. The world beneath the lake was murky, dark, and eerily quiet, broken only by the distant swaying of underwater plants and the occasional darting shadow of a fish.

You kicked your legs hard, propelling yourself deeper into the water. The sunlight above barely penetrated the lake’s depths, leaving everything shrouded in an unsettling gloom. You gripped your wand tightly, its faint luminescent tip acting as your only reliable guide.

Your breath echoed softly within the bubble charm as you swam forward, eyes scanning the seemingly endless expanse of water for any clue to what you were looking for.

The silence was suddenly broken by a ripple of movement far ahead. You squinted, trying to make sense of the shifting shapes in the distance. Were they merpeople? Grindylows? Or worse?

As you swam closer, you felt the water begin to stir unnaturally around you, currents pushing against your path as if trying to steer you away. Ignoring the resistance, you pressed onward, following a faint glow that seemed to pulse ahead of you.

The glow of the archway cast an eerie light on the scene before you, and your heart nearly stopped when you saw the frozen, lifeless forms suspended in the water. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized one of them—Jeongseob. His eyes were closed, his body eerily still, tethered to the rocky floor by a thick strap around his ankle.

Without hesitation, you swam toward him, your heart pounding as you reached for the strap holding him in place.

Out of the corner of your eye, movement caught your attention. Turning your head sharply, you spotted a cluster of merpeople circling nearby, their sharp eyes fixed on you. Their expressions were unreadable, but their tridents glinted threateningly in the dim light.

You huffed, pushing away the unease crawling up your spine, and focused on the strap. Your fingers fumbled with the knot as you tried to release him, but it was tighter than you anticipated. Pulling out your wand, you muttered a quick Diffindo, and the strap snapped cleanly apart.

Grabbing Jeongseob under his arms, you began to lift him when a figure suddenly darted past you, cutting through the water with precision.

Sunghoon.

You froze for a moment, watching as he swam toward another frozen figure—you recognized immediately as Wonyoung. His movements were swift, almost practiced, as he reached her side and inspected the strap binding her.

Sunghoon released her with practiced ease, and with one strong kick, he began swimming upward, her unconscious form in tow.

You snapped back to reality, your grip tightening around Jeongseob as you adjusted his weight. With one last glance at the merpeople, who thankfully didn’t move to stop you, you started your ascent toward the surface.

The water seemed heavier now, the glow from the archway fading the farther you swam. You pushed yourself harder, focusing on Jeongseob’s still form and the faint light of the surface above. Your lungs burned, your muscles ached, but you refused to stop.

When you broke through the surface, gasping for air, the cheers of the crowd were deafening. You swam toward the platform as quickly as you could, hauling Jeongseob out of the water with the help of a few officials.

Turning your head, you caught sight of Sunghoon already on the platform, placing Wonyoung gently on the ground.

The way he looked at her made something twist uncomfortably in your chest, though you couldn’t quite name the feeling. His soaked hair stuck to his forehead, droplets trailing down his face.

You quickly averted your eyes, focusing entirely on Jeongseob, who was coughing and spluttering as he tried to sit upright.

"Hey, take it slow," you murmured, brushing his damp hair out of his face. Relief coursed through you as his breaths steadied. "You're okay now."

Jeongseob gave you a weak smile, his voice hoarse. "I knew you'd save me."

You helped him to his feet, steadying him as one of the mediwizards approached to check on him.

The crowd roared again as Seon-mi broke through the surface, dragging her younger brother along with her. She looked utterly exhausted, but a triumphant grin spread across her face as she hauled him onto the platform. You cheered for her, clapping as she waved in your direction, her relief evident.

"You did amazing!" you called, and she laughed breathlessly, collapsing onto the platform beside her brother.

You could only smile at her.

After that, it seemed like the universe had decided to work against you. Everywhere you turned, Sunghoon and Wonyoung seemed to be there—together.

At breakfast in the Great Hall, you’d glance up from your toast only to see him leaning slightly toward her, talking quietly while she smiled, twirling a strand of her dark hair between her fingers. In the corridors, you’d catch them walking side by side, Wonyoung’s melodic laugh ringing in the air as Sunghoon’s eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement.

Even during the rare moments you found peace in the library, they’d somehow find their way to a table not too far from you. Wonyoung would whisper something, her delicate hand brushing against Sunghoon’s arm, and he’d lean closer, murmuring back with a small smile that made your stomach churn.

Wonyoung wasn’t the problem, you reminded yourself.

But knowing she wasn’t the problem didn’t make it hurt any less.

Every time you saw them together, it was like a thorn pressing deeper into your chest. You’d tell yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care what Sunghoon did or who he spent his time with. He wasn’t your problem anymore.

Yet, the memories of your shared past refused to fade. The way he used to look at you like that, the way he used to make you laugh until your sides hurt—it all lingered in the back of your mind, taunting you.

"You're staring again," Seon-mi teased you, nudging you with her elbow.

You snapped your gaze away from the corner of the courtyard where Sunghoon and Wonyoung were talking. He was holding something out to her—a book, maybe—and she took it with a grateful smile.

"I wasn’t staring," you lied, biting into the apple in your hand with more force than necessary.

Seon-mi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Sure, and I’m secretly the Minister of Magic."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to engage further.

But even as you tried to brush it off, the frustration bubbled under your skin. It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. It was annoyance. Annoyance that he had the audacity to walk back into your life and act like nothing had happened. Annoyance that he was suddenly everywhere, an unavoidable presence that reminded you of things you’d tried so hard to forget.

You bit down harder on your apple, you silently vowed to keep your focus on the tournament and nothing else. Sunghoon could do whatever—or whoever—he wanted. You had more important things to worry about.

The day of the third challenge arrived, and the anticipation in the air was palpable. The weight of the past challenges hung heavy, and with every passing moment, the dread of what lay ahead only grew. You stood there, in the cold, feeling the slight tremor in your hands as you clasped them together, trying to steady yourself.

The arena was unlike anything you’d seen before—towering stone walls, an eerie silence that almost seemed to press in on you, and the unnatural stillness of the sky overhead. The crowd’s murmurs were distant, but your mind was too focused on the task ahead to truly hear them.

You could feel your heart thundering in your chest, the adrenaline starting to kick in. The previous challenges had been difficult, but this one? This one was unlike anything you had ever prepared for. There was no room for hesitation or second-guessing.

“Competitors, step forward,” a booming voice called, pulling you from your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and walked forward with purpose, fighting the nerves that clawed at your insides. This was it. The final challenge.

The stands were packed with eager faces, eyes fixed on you and the other competitors.

Ahead of you stood the final challenge—a labyrinth of twisting hedges, rising walls of thorns that reached high above your head. You could feel the weight of the crowd's gaze, but you focused on the task ahead.

"Your task is simple," the voice of the Headmaster rang out again, "Navigate the maze, retrieve the Triwizard Cup at the center, and return. The maze will change as you progress. Be alert. Be ready."

With a final glance around at your fellow competitors you took a steadying breath, stepping toward the entrance of the maze. The world seemed to fall silent as your footsteps echoed, each one leading you deeper into the unknown.

The first few moments were calm, and you felt your nerves settle as you moved swiftly through the narrow paths. But then, as you rounded a corner, a sudden shift in the maze occurred. The path behind you collapsed, leaving no way to retrace your steps.

You gritted your teeth. No turning back now.

The wind howled through the labyrinth, whistling past your ears as if the very maze itself was trying to disorient you. Every step felt like it led you in circles, the twisting paths all blending together in a maddening blur. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to stay focused.

You clutched your wand tighter, the familiar weight grounding you. With every turn, you muttered spells under your breath, trying to manipulate the maze, hoping to find some way to make it easier, but the labyrinth seemed to grow more chaotic with each passing second. The walls shifted again, and you cursed under your breath as the path you’d just taken disappeared behind you, leaving you with only a narrowing tunnel ahead.

A flicker of light suddenly caught your attention. You turned, heart skipping a beat as you saw the glow of something ahead, faint but undeniable. The Triwizard Cup.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward it, adrenaline pushing you to the limit. But the wind picked up again, this time more violent, the trees around you creaking under the pressure. The air grew heavier, and you had to shield your face against the sharp sting of the gusts.

Just as you thought you were getting closer, a new barrier rose in front of you—a wall of thick, thorned vines, their sharp tips glinting like daggers. You skidded to a halt, barely able to avoid running into them.

Your heart raced as you glanced around, trying to find another way. You reached for your wand, but before you could cast another spell, something in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Movement. A shadow darting through the maze. You narrowed your eyes, instinctively reaching for your wand again, but when you looked closer, you realized it wasn’t an enemy.

It was Sunghoon.

You froze for a moment, but there was no time to waste. You had your goal: the Triwizard Cup. You couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now, not when you were so close.

You pushed forward, every muscle in your body screaming, but you couldn’t afford to slow down.

Sunghoon was right behind you now, running just as fast, his dark silhouette cutting through the chaos of the maze. The wind howled, fiercely whipping around you both.

You could hear his footsteps, closer now, like a shadow trailing in your wake. With the wind pushing against you, it felt like an invisible hand was trying to drag you back, but you fought it, forcing your legs to move faster, your heart pounding in your ears. You couldn’t let him win.

The thorns of the maze lashed out like wild creatures, scraping your arms as you rushed past. You barely noticed the pain. All you could focus on was the glowing cup just ahead.

You shot a glance over your shoulder. Sunghoon was gaining on you, his pace matching yours with frightening precision. You swallowed hard, feeling the competitive drive surge through your veins. There was no way you’d let him get there first.

In that instant, the wind picked up again, stronger this time, pushing against both of you with brutal force. It felt like the very maze itself was trying to separate you, to tear you both apart. The gusts howled louder, as if the maze itself had come alive to stop you from reaching the prize.

You pushed through the wind, the air sharp in your lungs, heart hammering against your ribs.

But just as you thought you had gained an edge, the wind howled even harder, and a massive gust swept across the maze. You stumbled, feet slipping beneath you, and you heard Sunghoon’s sharp breath as he took advantage of the opening.

You were neck and neck now, the cup within both of your grasps, but who would get there first?

Your hand reached out, fingers brushing against the golden edges of the cup...

And just like that, it was over.

In a flash, Sunghoon's hand shot out, quicker than you could react, and he snatched the Triwizard Cup from right before you. Your heart sank as you watched him grasp it tightly, his fingers curling around its surface, his expression set in triumph.

For a moment, the wind seemed to quiet, almost as if it too had paused to watch the final moment unfold. You froze, chest heaving, the adrenaline crashing through your body like a wave.

He had won. He had beaten you.

You stood there, surrounded by your friends’ supportive words, each one trying to lift your spirits. It helped, in a way. You had made it this far. You had survived the Triwizard Tournament’s challenges, something that not everyone could say. You had won the first challenge, and that counted for something.

But as the cheers echoed around you, you couldn’t help but feel a lingering disappointment. You had been so close, so close to finishing it all. You had fought hard, but in the end, Sunghoon had been the one to claim victory.

You glanced over at him, watching as he was surrounded by his fellow Durmstrang students. Their excitement was palpable, and it stung to see him raised up on a pedestal, holding the cup aloft like a hero. He posed for pictures, a small smile on his face, as if everything had gone exactly according to plan.

Your gaze shifted to Igor Karkaroff, who was grinning from ear to ear, his greedy eyes never leaving the cup. As Sunghoon handed it over to him, Karkaroff’s hand clapped firmly on Sunghoon’s back, a gesture that seemed more like a possessive claim than a congratulatory pat.

You swallowed hard, that familiar bitterness rising in your chest.

It wasn’t just the victory that stung—it was everything that came with it. The attention, the admiration, and the way people seemed to bend around Sunghoon like he was the center of their world.

You shook the thoughts away, reminding yourself that you had made it through. You had done your best.

The courtyard was alive with activity as students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang prepared to depart.

You stood with Seon-mi, your heart heavy. Despite everything, she had become a true friend to you.

“You better write to me,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion as she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Only if you write back,” you teased, your voice wavering slightly.

Seon-mi laughed, stepping back to look at you. “I will. I promise. And maybe I’ll convince my parents to let me visit Hogwarts sometime.”

“Please do,” you said, smiling despite the ache in your chest.

With one final hug, Seon-mi stepped onto the carriage, giving you a cheerful wave before disappearing inside. You stood there for a moment, before turning to leave.

That’s when you saw him.

Sunghoon stood by Krum, speaking quietly. His posture was relaxed, but there was an edge to his expression that you couldn’t quite place.

Your heart was pounding as you approached Sunghoon. With every step closer, you felt the weight of everything unsaid between you. This was it. If you didn’t confront him now, you never would.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned to you, startled, his eyes wide.

“Come with me,” you said firmly, dragging him away from the group and toward a quiet corner near the castle walls.

“Wait—what are you doing?” he asked, but he didn’t resist.

When you stopped, you let go of his arm, crossing yours tightly over your chest. “I need to know something, Sunghoon. I need to know why you left.”

His expression faltered, the usual confidence in his gaze replaced with unease. “Why I left?” he echoed, as if he didn’t understand the question.

“Yes,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why you left me. You just disappeared without a word, Sunghoon. I deserve to know the truth.”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse to answer. But then, he finally spoke.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low. “I… I liked you when we were kids, alright? I did. But then… I don’t know, I guess I just… fell out of love.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, all you could hear was the rushing of blood in your ears.

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice trembling.

“I’m not—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “That’s not the truth. Tell me the real reason, Sunghoon. I deserve that much.”

He sighed again, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the conversation was finally catching up to him. His brows furrowed, and he looked away from you, his jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he muttered, his tone sharper now. “You want the truth? My parents didn’t like you.”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“They didn’t like you,” he repeated, looking at you now. His eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place—regret, anger, guilt, maybe all three. “Your family… you’re not pureblood. My parents didn’t think you were good enough for me. And when they decided to send me to Durmstrang, I had the chance to leave everything behind. So I did.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. You just stared at him, the truth sinking in like ice water in your veins.

“So, what?” you finally managed, your voice shaking. “You just… left because they told you to? Because you couldn’t be bothered to fight for me? For us?”

He flinched at your words, his jaw tightening. “It wasn’t like that,” he said quietly. “I was a kid, okay? I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the cold air. “Well, you did. You hurt me more than you’ll ever know.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, his shoulders tense and his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, stepping back. “You don’t get to decide what hurts me, Sunghoon. And you don’t get to justify what you did. You could’ve told me the truth back then. You could’ve given me the chance to understand. But you didn’t. You just… left.”

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but you didn’t want to hear it. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him standing there alone.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was the answer you needed. And now, at least, you could finally start moving on.

a/n: my angst is a bit rusty... LUCKILY I GOT MORE ANGST COMING!

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