Though the frigid winter nights held presence in the Scottish countryside at this time in January like the piercing of a sword between ribs, not all sections of the Forbidden Forest were that cold. Dark, yes. But as the timed sleeping potion wore off to the Champions placed in this starting location awoke to a warmer, moist area. Not a humid location but a nauseatingly slimy environment.

A stench like death lingered in the atmosphere from the pungent odor of fungi. Thick growths of mushrooms climbed tree trunks in a series of shelves, created canopy across the ground like a jungle of umbrellas, or grew on top of other molds and growths in exciting new ways.

Within a small patch of ground free from fungus where the champions of three different schools: Yekaterina Alkaev, Damien Reynolds, and Mason Hawkins, not a hair out of place as the last of the potion's grogginess left them from their time at the grandstand in front of the forest.

There were no other people around, save the ambience of nocturnal activity in the forest. The closest sounds were a variety of squelches, the kinds various rotting fruit would make if tumbled down a flight of stairs. Under these squashings was the strain of something going 'hoot.'

But it didn't sound like an owl. Maybe it wasn't 'hoot.' Whatever it was, the wavering needle on Mason's compass was pointing away from the concentrated knot of the unnerving noises.

Damien sat up slowly, what the hell just happened? One minute he was standing in front of the dais, feeling confident about the upcoming challenge, and then he was out. He remembered everything getting really foggy, really fast. It was the vial, the potion they'd all thrown back without another glance. He groaned and pressed a palm to his forehead, a sleeping drought of sorts, no doubt. The Salemite hated sleeping droughts because they just messed with your head, and your level of consciousness of course.

Then he noticed the smell. And the slime. It smelled like something had died, very recently from the pure reek of it. It was disgusting, the way the mushrooms and molds climbed around the trees and into the branches above. This was disgusting. He pushed himself off the ground and noticed his partners. But they weren't Annie or Kayla. It was Mason, the guy who had bit him. Not that Damien cared about that anymore, he figured Mason had just overreacted. Or something. And Yeka...yakei...Yekaterealy... Yekaterina! One of the Durmstrang champions. Why was the group so mixed?

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, time to get the show on the road." Damien said aloud, over the disgusting squashing and meshing noises of the forest around them. "That means get up, guys. I don't feel like hanging out here anymore."

The noises behind them were unnerving, and Damien didn't like not being able to know what it was that was making the noises. The animals and creatures in here were typically deadly and Damien wanted out. Immediately. He noticed that Mason's compass was pointing in a direction... and he breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that it was pointing away from the noises. "Damien Reynolds, by the way." He said as a way of introduction, he couldn't go running through the forest with a couple of people he didn't even know, now could he?

Mason jerked awake, a rancid scent invading his nostrils. He coughed as pulled himself off the mossy forest floor. The sky was as black as pitch and was hidden behind large fungus growths. He wasn't with his team. He gulped when he saw Damien, hoping the Salemite had forgotten about their incident back in October. A Durmstrang girl was there as well. Sonny felt the weight of the compass on his school shirt and looked down to it, it seemed to point to the quietest part of the wood. Swallowing his dread, Mase walked over the Reynolds, "Ditto" He wasn't very comfortable in their current position.

Mase tried to breathe through his mouth, but he could taste and smell the deathly stink no matter what. His trainers had a puddle of muddy water around them from standing on the saturated moss. He could barely see. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and uttered a quick incantation. "Lumos!" He lit the small area with a soft, white light. "I guess we'll just follow the compass until we find something, right?"

Hawkins suddenly became aware of the eerie sounds around them. The light from his wand tip didn't illuminate further than the treeline, so anything that made noise would be concealed in darkness.

At this point, the fungus around them became aggressive.

Aggressive in what way? Acidly aggressive. One spurt of fresh slime from a large porous mushroom cap hit some exposed tree bark with a sizzle, just caught in Mason's wandlight. The next spurts gunned for the champions themselves.

Meanwhile, the noises in the forest were closer. A group of whooping things rustling in the undergrowth, screeching as they had their own problems with the acidic fungus. The compass pointed away from these noises, but to go in that direction the champions would have to follow the sloping curve of the grotto or try to climb in the thick of fungus.

Unless they got inventive.

Damien was just about to pull out his own wand when Mason lit up the dark area around them, it only took a second before the fungus started to just freak out. The pungent smell of death and decay got heavier in the air as the acid flew and smacked against the tree, sizzling and burning the bark. The Salemite took a step out of the way of another spurt, and started to panic. What should they do? Yekaterina was still out cold on the forest floor, and the noises were getting louder, much much louder.

He fumbled for his wand, his heart pounding in his chest. Each beat thumped heavily against his chest, and Damien was convinced that everyone could hear it. The likelihood of that was slim, actually. But it still felt as if his heart was going to beat it's way right out of it's cozy spot in his rib cage. Finally, he got a grasp on the shaft of his wand as another spurt of slime flew through the air like water out of a fountain. It was headed right at Damien.

He reacted quickly, dropping to the forest floor, but some of the slime brushed right past his arm and efficiently burned it's way through fabric, leaving a bright red scrape mark on his arm. His adrenaline was rushing though, and he didn't feel the pain at first.

"Concusso!" He shouted, rather aggravated by the patch of fungus that was attacking them. The spell sent an invisible shock wave at the mushroom's and seemed to stun them for a moment. He pushed himself off the ground, breathing heavily. "Mason, we have to go. Like right now." He declared as the mushroom's began to shake and shiver again.

The noises got louder and louder and Damien realized they would have to climb through the fungus or up the sloped curve of the little area they were in. "We're going to have to go through the mushrooms, or up the hill. You think you can make it up the hill?" He asked the only champion who was conscious.

The scent and feel of something acidic around caused Yekaterina to awaken with a start.  As a potions major she had long ago gained an instinctual reaction to certain smells, sounds and feelings that would alert her that something was going wrong. Just in time she rolled out of the way of a large glob of some acidic substance that had been aiming for her torso. Watching it hiss and bubble she mentally gathered herself and shoved the thought of her close call aside.

Near death wasn’t something all that unusual for a student of Durmstrang and she had been in and assisted with several nasty potions accidents during her time at the school; though admittedly those times she had been surrounded by allies. Standing up she glanced at her companions with an unconcerned look, neither seemed to realize that she had awakened.

Damien Reynolds was obviously panicking, urging the other member of their trio to climb up the hill. While he was right that they needed to go, Katya wasn’t certain if that was the correct way to go. Glancing upward she eyed the shelf fungus that towered above them and then back towards the sounds of something bad coming towards them. She wanted to be far above whatever was heading towards them arrived and the hill wasn’t going to cut it.

The more she thought about it the more she felt they should climb up the shelf fungus. Not only would they have a bird’s eye view of the forest, it was a much more defensible position from whatever creature was stalking them. She walked cautiously over to one of the ground level shelves avoiding a few more sprays of acid.  No acid oozed from the giant shelves; in fact they didn’t even look wet like other types of fungus tended to be. Delicately she reached out and touched it with her gloved hand, the spongy fungus felt firm beneath her touch and smelled like nothing more than dirt and decay.

She glanced back at her companions, “That might not be the best idea.” She said calmly, “we do not know what could be up there waiting for us. I believe it would be best if we went up this way.”  She lay a hand on the shelf beside her.

Halfway up the embankment the mushrooms started to jump out. Not just ripped out of the ground from being used as handholds, the Leaping Toadstools jumped of they own volition, knocking into the male champions.

The sprays of acid appeared to subside when the infernal hooting became the loudest. Then, from both ends of the ravine edging away the creatures making the grunts could be seen. They looked like grey furred apes but they had long tails and wings like a giant pidegon.[1]

One was on the left, two were on the right. Just three from the greater troop but maybe more weren't far behind? In either case, they looked vicious! The champions would have to be quick to find an escape.

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Mason was pushed by mushrooms jutting out from every direction. The acid had ceased slightly, and he turned to see, what appeared to be...flying monkeys? What was this? The Wizard of Oz? Mason side stepped quickly over to Alkaev. The apes looked hostile, and Sonny had always hated primates. "Aresto Momentum"[1] Mason shouted, hoping to slow down the monkeys for a little while.

"Gogogogogogogo!" Mason said nervously, tucking his wand into his arm holster, leaping up to climb the layered fungi. "Reynolds! This way!" Mason started climbing, grabbing and pushing off the stiff mushrooms, he heard a hiss of his sneaker sole melting with acid. He only looked around his shoulder once, to see the three monkey's frozen in place, but others emerging from the woods, their eyes revealing their bloodthirst.

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Source

Damien turned to see the Durmstrang student wake up shortly after he started debating what way to go. Another shot of acid flew through the air and caught him on the arm, luckily not his wand arm. But it sizzled and hissed as it melted it's way through his clothing and burned his skin. He didn't scream, but he really freaking wanted to. It burned like hell. And it was so not a fun feeling.

"Aguamenti!" He said, directing the spell at himself. He succeeded in conjuring the water, but more than what he was expecting. The force of his own spell knocked him to the ground with the small wave, leaving him soaked and feeling rather incompetent; but at least the acid was washed off and neutralized. One small victory at a time.

He probably looked like quite the mess as he stood up, the sleeve of his left arm was completely gone, the skin underneath raw from erosion. It was bloody and slightly charred; probably from the water and acid interaction. Remembering a transfiguration lesson about conjuring bandages, (his coach at Salem had deemed it necessary after one fall too many), he attempted it; and failed rather miserably. The wound would have to stay open for now until Damien could really focus without the distraction of winged monkeys.

He followed Alkaev and Hawkins into the fungus, and hoped that it was their best bed. He cast a spell similar to Mason's at the flying monkeys, and prayed that there weren't too many more to come.

Of the monkeys barreling up either end of the fungus filled gorge Mason's spell slowed the pair from the right, including an additional winged monkey that had emerged from the woods. The one on the left hooted indignantly, gnashed its teeth and took to the air with a flap of its wings, heading over the champions.

Damien's water conjuring did the trick to wash off the acid. In fact, some of the mushrooms that caught the splash from Damien watering himself appeared to shrink. Some hopped feebly and fell to the ground, not taking root as leaping toadstools do after a jump.

At the top of the embankment there was some level ground before it began to slope downwards again. All that was ahead was complete and foggy darkness. But that was where Mason's compass was pointing.

This truly was not an ideal situation for the three champions. Mason's darn compass was leading them straight into this creepy, foggy, dark forest; and a pack of psychotic winged monkeys were coming at them like crazy. They were doomed.

Or maybe not. Damien finally had his wits about him after getting burned, (his arm still felt like it was on fire... yeah he was going to need medical attention after this,) and now he was gearing up to get where this compass was leading them. As he scampered up the gorge with his teammates, he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. The monkeys that had been hit by Mason's spell had slowed, but one took to the air and was, you guessed it, heading straight towards them.

Fabulous. This was fabulous.

What did you do against a couple of winged monkeys? The biggest one, probably the leader of the group, started screeching. Damien hadn't read anything lately on winged monkeys, so he didn't know if it was like just screaming at them or something... or if the screech had an actual purpose. "Let's keep moving, guys," he said, reaching the top of the gorge. Yep, keep moving right into the dark and creepy forest.

Sonny frowned at his compass as it continued to point into the worst part of the forest. He heard a hiss and a few uttered spells and Damien caught up to him, his arm seared by acid. Mason looked at the fog ahead of them and picked up speed. The monkeys were still on their tail, and Mason had an idea, a stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless. He stopped and turned towards the largest most aggressive winged monkey of them all. He hoped he’d remembered the spell correctly, and that is was legal, but he was pretty sure anything went in this tournament.

“Concusso!” He shouted and with a flick of his wrist he aimed the shockwave curse in the direction of the flying monkeys. Hopefully, it would stun them and give them a little more time to run into the fog without the threat of massive flying primates screeching at them and swooping in on them like a fresh kill. “Stupid compass” he growled and bolted into the moist fog, making his skin feel sticky. He re-lit his wand and continued to charge into the darkness.

Yekaterina was dirty, tired and extremely irritated at the entire situation. That stupid compass, she mentally cursed as she scrambled up the embankment with the others. Part of her felt that if she had been with her schoolmates none of this would have happened. The other part of her agreed that yes, things would have happened differently if she had been with Magdalena and Lyov instead of the Salem and Hogwarts students, but things would not be all that ideal either. Glancing back, Katya fought off the urge to curse out loud as she stood up on the top of the embankment. The monkeys were still pursuing them.

At the top of the embankment she paused, spinning around to face their pursuers, wand out. She would not allow these creatures free reign to chase her all over the forest. They would regret their choice if she had anything to do about it. Her blank mask dropped briefly, replaced with an angry snarl. “Confringo!” she screamed, aiming for the leader. It hit him dead on, causing him to howl in pain. Firing two more blasting curses off, she turned and ran after her fellow champions, smiling nastily as more screeches of pain joined their leaders. She quickly caught up to both boys, her calm mask once more firmly in place.

The monkeys, suffering concussive blows and freezing limbs, didn't bother to follow the champions. Their indignant screeching soon died away as the trio went further into the darkness.

And what a darkness it was. The great smog of the area barely let the basic wandlight travel further than a foot in front of everyone. The darkness also lowered into a bog-marsh. Frigid water began seeping into the champions' clothes, soaking up their legs. It was so frigid that sometimes one of the students would break into weak ice as they attempted to forage their way through.

By the time the marsh seemed to be at its darkest and silent, there was a light to be seen. Three lights, so far away they were only recognized as more yellow sections of the oppressive mist. The compass pointed towards the one on the left but it wavered, in time to when the light would flicker and vanish. The other two lights held steady and seemed much closer.

There was a heavy stench in the air. Ash and charcoal, the detritus of fire. Which begged the question as to whether this was really fog or was it smoke? Was that cackling in the direction from one of the lights?

And what was the thing that just froze Damien Reynolds' leg solid?

Damien scrambled through the thickest part of the forest, working hard to keep up with his teammates. What in the world had even possessed him to sign up for this tournament? He must have been lacking some form of logical thinking in that moment. He probably was just doing it to do it, because his friends were doing it. And he was here to compete and do his best. Well, at the moment, his best looked pretty terrible.

He was holding his burned and oozing arm to his side with his good hand as they ran into the darkest part of the marsh. His feet splashed into the water, “Oh, hell! This is frickin’ cold!” He shouted, probably not his best move. But there was ice in this marsh. There was ice. And it was so cold, and he felt so completely miserable, and his arm hurt.
And if he started complaining out loud, he would probably sound like a whiny little bitch.

Damien’s normal thought process was shot at this point.

“Hey, look up ahead,” he said to his teammates. “What, what are those?” He asked, his teeth chattering. He locked his jaw together in an attempt to stop it, and grasped his lip with his teeth firmly. But they still chattered.

He was about to catch up with Mason when his right leg suddenly seized up. It was frozen. Completely solid. He took a headfirst fall into the marsh water, pushing himself up with his arms, his hands slipping into the muddy undergrowth below the surface. He sputtered, coughing up the mouthful of water he had taken in before scrunching up his nose; it smelled like someone was burning. “Guys! Wait, I can’t move my leg!” He said, he wasn’t going to be able to get up by himself.

He was having a seriously bad day.