My dear. My lady.

Taryn was almost thankful for the baybarb rash as she lobbed the last teammate out of the pit and hoisted herself after them. It didn't mean anything, these cute pet names. She knew that. But that didn't stop the blush from creeping onto her cheeks. She didn't get called things like lady that often.

She muttered a quick thanks and took back her wand, joining in on the rally-cry that came next as Migs led them past the clinging Snare. Onward they pressed, determined as ever...until the temperature began to drop and a collective, cold fear crept up their spines.

Taryn, by and large, was lucky. She'd had a good life with no major childhood tragedies, no dark skeletons locked away to haunt her in the dementor's shadow. But depression and despair didn't have to come from a single wound. Little nicks  could build up just as well and, over time, leave the same sort of scar.

The memories started whispering before Taryn even lifted her wand, a lifetime of collected insults and slights: half-breed, stupid, monster, freak...

Block it out, she thought, and bit the inside of her cheek. Heart pounding, she pointed at the first dementor head-on and dredged up the memory of last year's state championship basketball win. "Expecto...Expecto patronum!"

White smoke poured from the tip of her wand, pooling around them like a low-clinging fog. Brooke and Cam's efforts did likewise, Cam's flickering momentarily into the shape of a goose before dissolving into the same heavy mist. It swirled around the knees, holding the dementors a few feet away, but it wouldn't do so for long. They needed something corporeal, a stronger happy memory.

Taryn grit her teeth against the encroaching despair, raised her off-arm to guard her team, and thought of the Yule Ball. The Champion's dance, and that dress, the way everyone looked at her. Like they'd finally seen her for the first time, as a giant but also as a girl. And then Migs's voice was a part of it too, those innocent pet-names between teammates. My dear. My lady.

"Expecto patronum!"

With a silent howl, the silver mist swirled up as a Saint Bernard bounded from her wand. Standing nearly as tall as Migs's bison, it charged the nearest dementor and tackled it to the ground, shadowy cloth shredding under its teeth and paws. "Go," Taryn urged both it and the others, her voice rising in an excited pitch. "Go, go, c'mon, we can do this!"

The five from Salem had been shrunk to tiny sizes, had furniture flung at them by a malevolent poltegeist, met two vicious plants that wanted to pull limbs off them and had even met dementors and survived. The horrible feelings and thoughts still clung on from the dementors, but was fading, especially as the blue glow, reminiscent of the goblet seemed so very close by.

All about them they could hear spells being thrown, feet hitting the ground, exclamations and more from their fellow champions, leading the Salem team to believe that they were all very close by and there only seconds in it by some strange chance.

Somewhere there was an enormous crash of water like a huge wave had hit the shore, and that was to their left, and if they had looked to their right as they entered the clearing - they'd have seen an entrance surrounded by beautiful roses. But the other side of their ultimate goal was an enormous beast of a dog, which was, for Salem's benefit, engaged by Durmstrang as they rushed forward.

For there in the clearing, set up on a pedestal and glowing blue through the glass amongst the shining silver structure was the Tetrawizard Cup!

Five hands would meet it all in one go to claim victory of the fourth task to Salem, and portkey the five back to a stage before the stands.

B2, Salem did choose the cup square

Oblivious to his teammate's awkwardness (as he'd been for quite some time), Migs led the way through the twist and turn of hedge-mazes.  His adrenaline was flowing at full capacity much like during those few moments before the chute opened and released the bull. 

He was amped.  Ready.  So when that first chill from the dementor seeped into their bones, it was like an ice cube being dropped on a summer-sun warmed hand.  He drew up with the others and gazed up at the shadowy figure rising above them.  Like his classmates, there was no major tragedy for the creature to feed off of - just the usual ups and downs of childhood framed by the usual challenges of life on an impoverished reservation. 

But, the soon-to-be Salem Graduate had just cast his patronus moments before.  The warmth from the memory of massive glowing bison, that was also his central totem (whether or not that was coincidence was a topic for another time) was still strong in his mind.  It made it easier to reach back into the bright memory of sitting on the porch last summer with his grandparents, parents and four siblings while holding his oldest sister's newborn son.  The memory would later stir up some homesickness but, for now, it was more than enough.  The massive glowing white buffalo burst from his wand and joined Taryn's dog in stampeding the dementor out of the way. 

The way clear, they pushed forward.  All around them, they could hear the sounds from the other teams' progress - everyone seemed to be converging on the same area.  Sensing they were nearing the end, Migs picked up the pace and broke into a jog with his wand still at the ready.  They rounded a corner and Migs froze.  Behind them, Durmstrang was in the midst of a battle with a large canid but in front of them...

There it was.  The cup.  The goal.  "Aye!" Migs cried in victory, punching Alejandro in the shoulder and patting Taryn ... well, he'd intended to pat her on the shoulder but ended up finding her back.  "Let's get this!"  They'd done it!  Salem had proven they had a right to be there.  Smiling broadly, Migs extended one hand to Alejandro and another to Taryn before crossing that last little distance towards victory.