Night had fallen quickly in the forbidden forest. Shadows were deep, and the sound of scurrying animals could be heard as the champions started to awaken from their potion induced sleep. The ground beneath the champions was soft and moist, and a drop of rain fell lazily from the nearest tree branch. Trees, heavy with the fallen rain, surrounded the group tightly - misting those that were unaware enough to lean against them for support.

Upon waking, the three champions: Corey Gaubert, Phillip Kinsey, and Magdalena Eisenberg would find their bodies lying upon the damp ground. The rich soil was collecting in their robes and the wet rain dripped down on them from above. It would appear, to any passerby, as if the trio had just lain down to take a nap, their bodies lying in the supine position beneath the canopy of leaves high above.

It was obvious that the group of interscholastic champions that they were deep within the forest, at least to those that knew the nature of forests. The sound of the cheering crowd was long gone; the comfort of their schoolmates, even the safety of their surroundings had all been stripped from the children. They were truly alone.

Gnarled roots jutted out from the ground, and moss grew upon the few stones that lay upon the ground. There was no path – another indication that they were far from any civilized comforts. The compass around the neck of Corey Gaubert pointed forward: directly through the path of a large spiderweb. Beneath the web, if one were to look close, one might see a trail of spiders.

Gaubert was the first of his group to rub the grogginess of a "nap" from his eyes, helped tremendously by a light dripping of rain onto his face which had jolted him upright. The ground beneath him was damp and he pushed himself up to a crouched position as he took in his surroundings as well as his companions. The two other individuals with him were not his Beauxbatons classmates, but rather one Hogwart's student and the girl from Durmstrang who had competed with him in the first task.

At first, their locale seemed quite serene but it quickly became clear that it was anything but. It was a space that was eery and full of dark shadows. Casting his gaze to the other two champions who had yet to stir, Corey quietly inched closer to them and reached out to see if he could gently shake them awake. He urgently whispered, "Réveillez-vous!" And again realizing that they were not from his school, he repeated in English, "Wake up!"

Corey caught sight of the compass around his neck and how it pointed towards a large spiderweb with a path beyond. Biting his lower lip, he inwardly cursed the prospect of dealing with more spiders given the ordeal of the first task. He muttered under his breath, "Oiy vey..."

"Wha—Nooo" Phillip mumbled, with his eyes still closed. "Five m're min'ts" he moaned while wiping some drool off his kite, which amounted to a hell lot more than the usual. Because rain. Why was it raining in his bedroom? "Ew... my mouth tastes like wet dirt" he continued. "What the bloody fu—" because it was indeed dirt in his mouth... and pretty much everywhere around him. "Awesome" he dead-panned, finally remembering; this was his last nap. Most people got a last meal, but no, nope. Not Phillip. Phillip got a last nap.

"Shite. Look at all that gel goin' to waste" he whinged, finally getting on his feet and shaking his now limp mop of platinum hair. He turned to look around, and his face practically fell off at seeing he was in foreign territory, and by foreign territory he meant "who the bloody hell are these people?". He frowned and rolled his eyes, thinking maybe fraternizing with the outsiders during the year would've been advisable. "Wake up, princess!" he shouted, profoundly irritated by now. "Ain't snoggin' no sleeping beauty" he muttered softly to himself before straightening his back and putting his hands on his hips.

"Eer ar ye... if Frodo can get the ring to Mordor, I can get through this alive. I'm Katniss, baby" he grinned stupidly, not really believing himself. In two strides he was next to the pretty boy, probably from Beauba-what's it, because... pretty boy. He grabbed the compass around his neck and put it into a horizontal position. He waited for the needle to stabilize and looked at where it was pointing. He gulped. "So..." he turned to look at Pretty Boy "tha' where we goin'? Through the big-arse spider web?!" he now shrieked. He let go of the compass, and subsequently the other lad and took a deep calming breath. "Katniss, Phillip, you're Katniss. Ye can't hunt for shite, but we'll figure it out" he said to himself in a soothing, yet panicked voice.

He took one last breath, and marched forward, lighting his wand on the way. He stopped a few steps short of the monstrous web and looked around. He suddenly jumped one foot back and let out a fairly high-pitched whimper. "Sooooo... there's teensy spiders there" which still came as a surprise, despite the big-arse web. "Forbidden Forest. Giant webs. Spiders. Teensy spiders. Sort of marching" he loudly reasoned his thought process, growing more alarmed with each word. He turned back, horror etched on his face to look at the others. "Noooooo" he whined. It couldn't be? Right?! There was no way they'd be facing ginormous spiders. "RIGHT? There's no way—" his voice suddenly cracked and he swallowed thickly.

Phillip hated any insect with more than six legs. With a passion. A fiery passion.

It was unpleasantly humid, too hot for winter. The rain soaked into her hair, wet her lashes. Her robes were weather-proofed, but they were accustomed to heavy snows that were slicked off by wind, not whatever this was. It had been wet at the forest’s edge, too. That seemed only a moment ago, and yet it also felt as if hours had passed. Foreign voices buzzed like doxies in her dreams-- but they felt like daydreams, the half-awake imaginings induced by hours of reading. Sleeping potions. Magdalena reached for her wand before doing anything else. The familiar grip warmed her palm, sent a surge of memory and energy through it. When she opened her eyes, it was to see wet dirt and two pairs of feet. Males. Her stormy gaze traveled up trousers and torsos: they were not clad in the blood-reds and water-proof charmed boots of the Oberteil rank.

One was the French boy (now clothed) against whom she had competed in the First Task. The other was the Hogwarts boy with bleached hair whose ramblings could be heard during the line-up-- moments or hours ago. Magdalena quickly climbed to her feet, her frown and wand embellishing her presence. The spiderwebs and aged roots were enough to let them know what they needed to know about their most pressing opponent. She nearly rolled her eyes. Again? If they insisted.

She looked up for the sun, attempting to tell the time, but the density of the forest overhead was a steadfast veil. They were at its heart.

Her eyes returned to the French boy-- or, rather, the compass around his neck. She had assumed she would already be huddled over the one they had given Lyov. Knowing that she was without, and expected to rely on the competition, her empty hand felt emptier, her neck in need of its weight.

The Hogwarts boy continued to ramble. She looked at him with the searing dislike and mistrust of a butcher having to cook a vegetarian meal. “If you can’t say anything useful, stop speaking.” The words were snappy, stormy. She brandished her wand in his direction. The word Silencio had never been so tempting to her tongue. All the while, ugly words like frodo and a garbled version of catnip were flying from the Hogwartian’s mouth faster than one could Floo. She spoke clear, fluent English, but she had no patience for this boy’s dialect. The French boy was almost easier to understand.

This was a joke, a sick one on the part of the task makers. Durmstrang students knew how to work together-- they were trained like soldiers. But it was harder than working on one’s own. Having to work with students whose sub-par education included a ban on setting foot into a forest full of fairies and talking animals for their protection did not bode well for the future of Magdalena’s high scores. The forest was welcoming as a soft bed compared to the British boy; a shame the challenge did not seem to be Stupefying him and finding a way back to the castle.

Magdalena strode toward the Beauxbatons student, whose experience in the First Task would surely be more useful than the gangly Hogwarts student who was not even attempting to mask his fear of arachnids. She stopped some few inches before him and imperiously extended her wand beneath the compass to read its face. She knew the Point Me charm, and had learned to read the sun and trees and stars from her grandfather. “It must have more use than pointing north. We stay together.” Her eyes found the Beauxbatons boy’s. Then she looked around again. If I were a snidget, where I would hide?

Corey was not sure what to make of the Hogwarts boys antics and he tried not to take anything that was said personally, because he did not know him well at all. Who could have predicted this scenario? And if any of them had had a choice, wouldn't they have all chosen to be with their own classmates?

But Corey knew that wasn't quite so solid where he was concerned. Yes, he was loyal to some of his classmates, but not all. And he often thrived in situations that required him to adapt and make the best of things.

So Corey turned away from the pessimistic boy and instead focused on the girl from Durmstrang. She looked hardened and stoic at first glance but Corey could sense that she was as unsettled about this as they were.

He offered her a hand to get up even though he had an overwhelming urge to tell the blonde haired boy to ferme la bouche or he'd do it with his fist.

To the question posed, Corey affirmed, "Oui, it says through there." Adjusting the compass chain around his neck, he proclaimed, "Its just a spider web." But then it was easier for him and the Durmstrang girl to be so dismissive.

He caught her gaze for a moment as they watched the boy with blonde hair walk off. Seeing her eyes fall to the compass and how she inspected it more carefully than the other, Corey decided to make a gesture to suggest his willingness to work with her.

Taking the compass from his neck, he held it out to her. He knew in the grand scheme of things that it probably was not the smartest of moves. What if he and his schoolmates were reconnected and they were then without a compass? What if his offering of trust was thrust back in his face by this girl who had become known for her coldness?

Still, his instincts urged him on and Corey did it anyway. He further explained, "I will be much more useful with my hands free." And that was the truth. If they were to catch a snidget, Corey expected to get dirty doing so.

With an impish grin, he seemed to sense the questioning going on in her mind. "Ready, belle fille?"

Phillip raised a haughty eyebrow at the girl's warning, and his mouth set in a firm disapproving scowl at seeing her wand pointed at him 'Brazzen hussy' he thought to himself with all the disdain in the world. He crossed his arms and silently judged the girlie as she basically appointed herself as their leader. "Well aren't you just a fun little lollipop triple dipped in psycho" he mocked, a sweet, obviously fake tone to his voice. This was not going to end up well... Not at all. And if he originally thought he'd get himself killed with the task, he was dead-sure they'd kill each other before ever actually starting on the thing. "Who died and made you Caesar" he asked, more amused than anything else.

He watched the French laddie pass her the compass with a ridiculous amount of sleazy flirtation and he rolled his eyes, shaking his wand once to light it. "Bloody hell, get a room will ye" he muttered as he set to go around the web, hoping the two barmpots were behind. He forgot all about them as he set his mental wheels in motion. These snidgey things were just birds, birds were genially stupid creatures. Well, except crows. Those things could use tools, Lala once told him, and tha' was pure mint.

"These feather balls... what do they eat? Are they attracted to anything? Birds are pretty shed-headed..." he thought out loud, more to bounce ideas off them rather than actually ask for their input. "Instead of searching for 'em in a creepy forest, at night—is there no way to get it to come to us?"he now asked turning to look at Dominatrix and Lover Boy. "I'm bollocks at Care of Magical Creatures. Don't need it for me apprenticeship, so I stopped taking it" he explained, holding his wand in front of him to light the way.

Through all the talk of catnip, item trading, and argumentative champions, this particular team didn’t seem to be getting off to a very productive start. Even after all three took a glance at the compass, they all seemed to be reluctant to move forward, deciding instead to argue amongst themselves in the same spot – A dangerous idea when left alone in a forest full of unknown wonders.

Just as the compass switched hands, the needle started spinning uncontrollably, creating a whirring sound from the sheer speed of the turbulence. The spiders beneath the web started scurrying away as quickly as their miniscule yet numerous limbs would carry them. Loud footfalls could be heard, just into the shadows beyond the web – whatever was on the other side was certainly not a spider. A low rumbling came from the exact opposite way, and a flapping of wings could be heard from high above.

The forest was tired of waiting. It was time for this task to begin.

For at least two of the champions, they would be completely blind of the next few minutes. A thestral: gaunt, skeletal, and morbid, stepped through the web, ripping it from the trees and sticking in the beast’s mane, turning invisible as it stuck. From behind, another appeared and a third landed from the sky, tucking its great wings as the animal landed. One thing was obvious: these were not the tame beasts from Hogwarts lore. Without making a sound, the three horse-bird hybrids snapped down on the robes of the champions and flew into the air, taking their cargo with them.

The thestrals flew beneath the canopy of branches high above, and managed to knock the champions into as many trees as possible on the trip, flying through the forest at uncomfortable speeds. The trip lasted for several minutes, and as the thestrals slowed, their jaws unhinged and dropped their prey straight toward the forest floor below.

She ignored the Beauxbatons student’s hand, climbing to her own feet. Still, he was more useful, more practical than the Hogwarts student, who had barely had to open his mouth for that to be evident. He would help them earn a good score, she though, and hopefully make up for the other one.

Being called a lollipop was a weird insult, but the word psycho is what stuck; Magda’s brow became stormy, and her resistance, her restraint from giving in to the overwhelming urge to curse him was surely worthy of a perfect score from the judge. He used muggle references, half-lost on the pureblood, who had been raised with the knowledge that magic was everything. Her annoyance was heightened, her suspicion of him grew. But she knew that she would have to refrain, for the moment, from harming him. Surely she could set him straight after the task, if they didn’t lose him in the forest. “If you want us to leave you here, we will. No psychos, just spiders."

Her suspicion turned on the French boy as he held out the compass. Her eyes glanced at his hand, back up to his face, a slight hunger in their icy hue. He seemed sincere, strangely— perhaps not strangely. They didn’t think the same way, the Beauxbatons students. Any of the students. If it had been Durmstrang students competing individually against one another, Magda probably would have used her wand instead of accepting the compass. Though, presently, she missed her schoolmates, their training, their competency. This boy was competent, too, though, unlike the other one from Hogwarts. Her face softened a bit; her expression became more understanding, agreeable, like a nod. She decided to take it, reached out, clasped its solidness. Her eyes were on its face, her hunger sated for the moment. It was a strange peace offering, a sign that the boy could be trusted, at least for the task. And it was true, he seemed good with his hands. She would stick with them, for now. She was sure she would lose points if she decided to trek off on her own.

She’d hardly accepted it, though, had barely glanced at the Hogwarts boy— a torture chamber was more desirous than any other sort of room he could suggest— and had no time to react to when it began to go wild, the needle whirling, moving like a dangerous pendulum. The spiders began to scurry away a half second before the sounds and vibrations, their animal senses suggesting that whatever was coming was not a gentle giant. Magda quickly put the chain around her neck and raised her wand.

The rumbling of footfalls indeed came from something eerier than giants, which would have been seen by now, this close, even under the cover of the trees. Leaves stirred beneath invisible footfalls. She felt hot air, the sensation of something or someone beside her, despite not seeing it. Ir grabbed her a moment later, and Magda was soon soaring, the beat of wings and whistle of wind heavy in her ear. Thestrals. She was once more annoyed at the inconvenience of not being able to see them. This time, Tyr was not here to be her eyes. It was a disorienting, unelegant path through the trees, bits of water hitting her face. She attempted only once to grab hold of its neck, find a firm grasp, but it was in vane, and so Magda decided her best bet was to brace herself. They hit branches, and she winced at the scrapes and knocking. She gritted her teeth, forced her eyes to remain open, lifted her wand enough to cast a rubber spell on her clothes mid-flight; it did not prevent injuries entirely, but the impact was less hard.

And then they were falling.

"Aresto Momentum!”[1] Magda shouted. Some several meters from the ground, they slowed, came to a stop just above moss and mud. They landed gently, but they would still be a bit sore from the journey, disoriented. She frowned, sat up slowly, undid the rubber charm on her clothing. There were tears in her clothing from before the spell she’d cast mid-flight. The sores would turn to bruises, but that would be work for the healers later. A bath would be a victory, and she would send Tyr to collect whatever else she needed to mend, but Magda was not shy to cuts and dirt. She looked down at the compass, which had calmed a bit. It was not broken from the journey, luckily. She readjusted it around her neck and climbed to her feet.

Finally, she was able to stare wands at Phillip, pick up her thoughts where they’d been interrupted by the thestrals. He didn’t study creatures, of course. She hoped the judges would take this into consideration. Magdalena and Gaubert would be working with what they had. Even so… his idea wasn’t terrible, though it wasn’t the most exciting, either. Hunters often set traps. It was less of a gamble to catch prey that way, though potentially more of a gamble for their scores. “Can you elaborate on your plan to attract them?” Her interest was sincere, less stinging than how she’d talked to him before, but hardly gentle. If he wanted to be useful, it would only mean a higher score, and so she was willing to listen. She looked down at the compass again, and then up. “We should get close enough to see them first.” The best way to hunt— the most gratifying— was still to catch. Magda wasn’t passive. “You still want to use your hands, don’t you?” She asked the French boy, her voice a little more humored, but also daring. She pointed northeast with her wand. "They're that way.” This time she was ready. She began to walk in the direction the compass pointed, wand still drawn.

1.	Aresto Momentum: slows and stops a fall

Corey took no mind of the prattling of the Hogwart's boy, though he did step away from Magdelena, intent on marhing onwards for the search. To Phillip's question about the snidgets. "Well, the snidget is probably closest to the muggle hummingbird in a lot of ways," Corey deduced, culling from his knowledge of magical creatures and also his enjoyment of those he had grown up with in the muggle world. "It's possible that they are in a hibernation-like state." He paused. "So we may need to be even more diligent in our search."

Hearing the boy say he was horrible at Care of Magical Creatures. "Lucky for you, that is my specialty." It was said with a simple confidence and attempt at reassurance.

With the Durmstrang girl accepting the compass, something began to happen. Corey whipped his head around, trying to discern where the commotion was coming from. He saw the spiders moving quite swiftly away from them. "That can't be good," he uttered, just before galloping footsteps approached.
 
Corey squinted into the shadows where the sound was coming from.

And then Corey spied the ghastly looking threstral approaching, an ability that only in this moment he was thankful for. The beast had companions, flanking from behind and at the sound of flapping wings, Corey's gaze saw one landing. At first, it was on his lips to shout for them to run from them, but the words simply would not come.

But by then the threstals had snapped them all up, swooping away with them until they were deposited in a new location entirely. Corey was grateful for Magdelena's quick thinking  to slow their fall but when they hit solid ground again, he grunted and scowled at the departing beasts.

Standing and brushing himself off, Corey turned his attention to his reluctant teammates, making sure that they were unharmed. When the girl asked him if he still wanted to use his hands, he shrugged and then nodded. "Well, I am used to handling much bigger beasts than snidgets. But these....they're not to be handled roughly."

When she pointed out the direction they were to go, he just shrugged and withdrew his own wand. "Okay. Allez, allez!"

"What the actual f—" Phillip started to whinge, feeling himself lifted into the air only to be smacked right in the kite by some branch. He instinctively put his hands over his face, to attempt to at least protect his face against the branches, but he could hear rips in his clothes and feel blood trickle down his hands. He didn't even have time to panic about the invisible attack, he didn't have time to think, and when he felt himself in free fall, no longer carried by whatever the bloody hell that was—he panicked. Just froze. If the Durmie girl didn't act on it, and included both himself and lover boy in the spell... Well, he'd seen a lot of poor little creatures leveled with the highway.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he shrieked when he was back on ground, checking himself for severe injuries and cringing when he turned his palms around. "And thanks, blondie" he added with a frown flexing his fingers to see the skin part and gush blood before scowling at the gross feel. Healing charms cam in handy when you experimented with potential lethal potions, so he cast a light charm at the most severe cuts, before raising his eyes to look around himself. he didn't have much time to think on anything else because apparently they were moving. To where? Well... only Dominatrix knew.

He returned back to his original train of thought, following the two closely behind. "How are ye two on a broom? And how far into the forest d'ye reckon we are?" he asked, concentration etched into his features. "I mean, they were the original snitches, right? That's about all I know bout the snidgey-things..." he continued with his explanation. "When we find it, or lure it in somehow—unless they're... hibernating?" he half-asked, half-said looking at the pretty boy. "We could accio some brooms? Unless we're too far... I'm shite speed-wise, so no chasing here, but I'm decent 'nuff with balance and strength to be a Beater on reserve. We could triangulate a formation, two to block its path. We could shield away what area we can't cover, while the third, preferably the most agile catches it?" he stumbled through his thoughts hoping he was actually making sense of what went through his head.

"Just an idea" he added in a small voice scratching the back of his head, and cringing at the wet hair, leaves and... was that mud? Ew. "By the way, I'm Phillip" he said with a grin. As fun as it was to come up with nicknames for them inside his own head, it wouldn't do for any to make their way past his lips.

“A thestral,” Magda replied, steely, having reoriented. She darkened as the word Blondie left his lips. The disrespectful monikers he was fastening upon them were trying her patience. But then he finally proved that he was decent with his wand. He was good at healing. That had its uses: if one of them incurred an injury that slowed the others, it would be easy enough to minimize the damage. But surely the medic witches and wizards would retrieve them if they were in too much peril; a new world order had been in place even before the disastrous final task of Harry Potter almost fifteen years ago.

She thought back to what Corey had said before they’d been captured: the tiny birds might be in hibernation. It was good that his speciality was Care of Magical Creatures, but he’d admitted that he was used to handling bigger beasts, which meant that their plan would have to be very carefully crafted. Spiders and thestrals could be unnerving; certainly she had felt the foreboding chill in the first task, and again when lifted by the invisible, stomping, carnivorous winged horses. But little things could be the most dangerous.

Snidgets on their own weren’t predators. But in this environment, deep in the forest, and with a pair of boys she hardly knew, whom she must trust, they were dangerous.

The trio began to walk, Magda’s wand hand posed defensively, ready to cast spells. Her other hand clutched the compass, her eyes flitting between it and the seemingly wild path before them. The only thing remotely human who might have passed through this part of the forest in recent years— besides the task makers— was a centaur, she thought. And they were half horse.

She did not slow as Phillip began to share his plan. Summoning brooms was a good idea. Summoning from such a distance could be a challenge for some. One to had to envision the object perfectly, not falter in concentration. It was clever, though, very impressive if successful. Past champions had earned high scores for displaying such skills. “If there is magic to prevent summoning this far into the forest, I’m good at Transfiguration,” she said, letting the words sink in for a moment. Had they wandered out of the range of the anti-Apparation charms? And if so, did that mean that summoning things from the castle and through the charmed bubble that surrounded the school was off limits? “I assume you can both handle makeshift brooms if necessary.” She didn’t look over her shoulder to gauge their expressions. At least there were plenty of branches here; they had served her well in the last task. Whether summoning from a distance or charming wood to fly, she would showcase her diversity of talent.

Magda blinked as the Hogwarts boy offered his name. What a time for introductions. After sleeping potions and thestrals. She hadn’t introduced herself before, either, but she hadn’t thought it necessary. There were more pressing things (the aforementioned sleeping potions and thestrals, to start). She had heard his name when the Goblet called him, and again during the weighing of the wands, though she had pretty quickly written off many of the champions. It was the returning ones whom she’d kept the closest eye on. She knew Corey’s name from the scoreboard of the first task and had initially assessed Phillip to be a babbling idiot with arachnophobia. She finally came to a stop, turned to look at him. “Magdalena. Not Blondie.” It was a correction and a warning, both. She would not invite them to use the pet name she allowed her friends: Magda (in most cases— except for a particularly infuriating Russian, who had his own moniker for her, one which an American competitor had mistakenly thought to use after the last task). Her eyes moved to Corey, sharing the introduction with him, too, if he didn’t already know her name. One never knew what the other schools stressed.

“We should summon them now, before we move further from the school.” She raised her wand, assuming they would do the same. “Accio broom!” She imagined the one stowed in her quarters; Tyr had polished periodically, though Magda had not done much riding at Hogwarts. She was a decent flier. Not being a decent flier wasn’t really an option at Durmstrang, not for an Oberteil. It was a magical mode of transportation, and thus a compulsory lesson. Most students arrived at the magical institution knowing how to fly. She did not play quidditch for a school team, however. She had mastered a broom like she had horse-back riding and ballet lessons as a child: with discipline. She was agile, if not a Seeker. But perhaps not as agile as the pretty French boy with his love of beasts. Seeking, chasing, and hunting had similarities, however, and Magda had been brought up by hunters. Chasing would be a thrill. But this wasn't a quidditch game; they would be using their wands first and foremost, she thought. Contact with the snidget wasn’t the danger. It was where the snidget might lead them, the fact that it could slip through trees and small spaces. “I can help corner it.” Which put Corey in the role of Seeker-of-sorts. Magda had the compass, after all. Her wand was still raised as she magicked the broom; she had not budged or moved her eyes. It was important to keep her mind on the broom.

They were a long distance and it took a while. There was little view of the sky overhead through the old, dense trees. But finally there was a light rustling unlike the drizzle of rain and the scurrying of animals. Finally, there was the broom, familiar, zooming down toward her. She reached out, grabbed it.

Things were moving at a rapid pace. The thestrals dropped the trio unceremoniously through the air and it was only due to the Durmstrang girl’s swift spellweaving that kept the group from serious injury. As the group stood around speaking, they were relatively safe from danger, though the needle pointed incessantly toward what was sure to be pure peril.

It was a risky bet, trying to summon brooms this far into the forest, any number of dangers could halt the progress of the brooms’ progression, and if the focus of the champions faltered even for a millisecond, they’d be left without transport. However, this seemed not to be the case with this particular gaggle of champions, as directly after the first broom passed through the trees, so did two others.

Mounting the brooms this deep into the forest would be a hassle, a task in and of itself, as the trees were old and thick and grew close together. Walking through the forest would be even more of a challenge, as the roots were old, gnarly, and had been undisturbed by human feet for untold fathoms of time. The trio, however, had very little time to think of a plan before their worlds were completely rearranged.

For the Beauxbaton champion, an illusion formed over his mind, causing him to think the world around him was an active volcano, spewing lava from its depths. The forest around Corey’s eyes melted away, causing an issue much more dangerous than it might seem. Though his eyes might not see the perils around him, the trees were very much real, and though the heat from the volcano was insubstantial, his mind wasn’t aware of the fact.

For the Hogwartian, he found himself being lifted slowly from the ground, as the gravitational pull of the Earth’s surface left him. Though Phillip might not understand the dangers around him, the ascent to the canopy of the forest would be a rough one, and there was no way to tell if the spell had an ending point. Would he simply float far enough away to reach the Earth’s atmosphere and lose oxygen? Would the spell wear off high enough up, causing him to crash through to his death?

For the Champion from Durmstrang, foliage all around her came to life. The branches of the trees reached out their woody arms to wrap around the woman, the gnarled roots lifted to grab at her ankles, even the broom in her hands contorted itself, trying to drag the girl down deep into the depths of earth. The trees seemed to leave the Beauxbaton champion alone, making it obvious that the current hurdle was specifically designed to separate and distract the champions from their goal.

They must be getting close.

Corey was fine allowing Magda to take charge. There was a time to lead and a time to follow and the Beauxbatons champion was not adverse to either roll. He was perfectly content at the moment to observe their surroundings and keep his senses honed to whatever might come.

Looking up, he saw the brooms heading towards them and Corey was reaching for his respective broom when everything around them seemed to change. The forest around him seemed to fade from sight and in its place was a volcano, erupting with liquid fire. Corey pushed off from where he was standing, out of the way of a fountain of lava that was headed towards him. He brought his hand up to cover his face, afraid that he might be burned. But he continued to run, looking for some place to take cover from the drops of red and orange rain falling from the sky.

In the back of his mind, his thoughts seemed to scream, "How is this possible?" This truly was an enchanted forest, no??

Though he was clearly worried for his own well being, Corey looked around for his taskmates. He saw the Hogwart's guy up above him and then he saw the Durmstrang champion struggling with the foliage.

Corey weighed his options, eyes skirting from the lava intent on spewing towards him and the other boy headed towards the tops of the trees in the forest and Magda being enveloped by roots and branches.

His thoughts still a jumble, Corey quickly skirted into position as close to Magda as he could. His eyes were still on the lava as well as the branches attacking her. Finally, not really knowing if he would be successful or not, he brandished his wand and cast the first defensive spell that came to mind. "Protego Totalum!" he shouted as he directed it to the offending trees and roots. He watched as the air began to shimmer, first emanating from his wand and then growing to surround both himself and slowly, as he inched closer to Magda, her as well.

Corey reached out his free hand and motioned for her to move towards him and the shield. He hoped that once she was secured, the two of them could set to "saving" Phillip from his catastrophe.

Phillip's hand barely had a second to connect with the handle of his broom, before he felt himself being lighten in the air, which was strange given that he hadn't yet mounted said broom. It took him about five minutes, time in which his ascent kept advancing, to realize that something was happening. And not just to him, but to his teammates too: Corey had gone complete bonkers for a second there and Blondie—Phillip decided then and there that he watched way too much anime for his own mental sanity.

It was only when he had almost reached the crown of a really tall tree, that he realized he had to bloody do something. With not much thought to his situation and his own well-being, Phillip suddenly, moved his broom between his legs, grabbed the trunk of the tree wit one hand and with the other, pointed his wand at himself as he shouted Incarcerous. In retrospect... it wasn't one of his best moves. Now bound to the tree, Phillip merely watched his teammates struggle with their own issues. "Sure yeah, ye do yer thing. I'm just gonna hang here. 'S nice... nature and all" he muttered under his breath. When he thought the other two were done with their own bloody thing Phillip cleared his throat and shouted an Oi! at them. "Any chance I can rope you in to helping me with this? Get it? Rope. Nah? Okay..."

Thank you for a fantastic go of it.  For this final post the AO Curators have taken over the Deus Ex Owl to wrap up this exciting endeavor!

Kinsey. Eisenberg. Gaubert. 

These are names that would have sat well on trophies or plaques or in the lines of the Daily Prophet.  They have a very austere ring to them all.  But fortune favors the fleet of foot.

The trials of the Third Task proved to be too much for this particular trio. Individually, surely they all demonstrated merits deserving of such a tribulation, but a potion is more (or less) than the sum of its reagents.  Could be a different concoction entirely.  There is no doubt that these young wizards and witch will be rewarded well for their efforts, but delays eventually allowed for another team to find their snidget first. 

The hours of the night wore on, and sooner than anyone might have wished, three wizards on brooms caught up with this trio.  "Time's up," they said.  "Back to the pavilion with you.  Bad luck."

If only it were luck, rather than a Task that was more like a Trap.

All the champions are retrieved and Apparated back to the staging pavilion.  Healers are standing by to mend wounds, and reporters are eager to find out just what went on out there.

Stay tuned to the Daily Prophet in February for more.