Chapter Text
Jeno didn’t sleep well the previous night, a curling sort of apprehension wrapping around the edges of each of his organs, rearranging them and leaving him with a dizzying sense of nausea and disassociation.
It was February 19th, and the second task was tomorrow. Jeno knew he wouldn’t receive any actual information about the task until just before it started, but the gnawing worry in his stomach only increased tenfold compared to before the first task.
“You’re worrying for nothing,” Donghyuck said, chewing around a piece of his sandwich. “I mean, just look at how well you did during the first task. The outcome this time is bound to be the same.”
Jeno’s stomach churned as he stared at his untouched plate, not trusting himself to keep his food down should he try to eat it. “I don’t know Donghyuck, I just have a bad feeling about something.”
“Well we’re all here for you man,” Yangyang comforted, sending Jeno one of his signature bright smiles. “We’ll be cheering from the sidelines just like last time.”
“That is if Donghyuck doesn’t move to the Durmstrang section to cheer for his new boyfriend,” Renjun teased, giggling as he poked Donghyuck’s arm, who scoffed and started play-wrestling with him.
Jeno and Yangyang only watched on with amusement as the two of them fought (if wrapping each other in a tight hug could even be considered fighting). They were laughing and crying out gleefully as they started tickling each other, and didn’t even notice someone approaching behind them.
“Ahem.”
They both immediately froze on their actions, Renjun’s arm wrapped around Donghyuck’s neck in a loose chokehold and Donghyuck’s arm around Renjun’s mid section.
It was almost comical the way both of them turned their heads in the direction of the voice at the same time, looking up to see Doyoung standing over the both of them with one raised eyebrow.
“I’ve learned not to ask,” Doyoung said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Are you two finished?”
Slowly, the two of them unpeeled themselves off each other and straightened their askew robes, patting down the fabric, though it was futile to rid it of its wrinkles. “Yes,” Renjun answered.
“Good,” Doyoung said, one edge of his lips quirking up the slightest of degrees, enough for the small dimple to peek out of his skin. “You both are needed in my office.”
“Did we do something wrong?” Donghyuck asked, immediately turning on the defensive.
Doyoung quickly shook his head. “Nothing of the sort, unless you’ve actually done something,” He narrowed his eyes at Donghyuck, but Donghyuck quickly shook his head as well with a slightly too nervous laugh. Doyoung chose to ignore it and continued. “I just need to speak to you both in private.”
They both turned their heads around to meet Jeno and Yangyang’s eyes, all of their gazes mirroring collective confusion. Without any other protests, Donghyuck and Renjun gathered their bookbags and stood up from the bench, ready to follow Doyoung.
Doyoung sent Jeno and Yangyang a reassuring smile. “We’ll be done in a bit.”
Jeno watched as they went, Donghyuck and Renjun easily falling back into their previous quarrel as they followed Doyoung, who was pointedly ignoring their rising volume.
“What do you think it’s about?” Yangyang wondered aloud.
Jeno could only shrug, not being able to come up with any conclusion that could plausibly explain why Doyoung would only need to speak with Donghyuck and Renjun.
“Guess we’ll find out when they come back.”
Donghyuck and Renjun didn’t return to the Great Hall for lunch, nor did they return for the rest of the day.
By the time curfew rolled around and Jeno had to reluctantly return to the Gryffindor tower, he was hounded not only with the pulsing uncertainty of the second task, but also with the slowly blossoming concern for Donghyuck and Renjun’s whereabouts.
He told himself he trusted Doyoung not to deliberately lie to him, and that there was no reason for concern. Donghyuck and Renjun could have easily returned to their separate dormitories without meeting up with Jeno and Yangyang again. Jeno shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.
Sleep didn’t come easily to him for a second night in a row. He tossed and turned, faded flashing images of his friends, Mandrakes and other herbs, and even the now familiar spiral of turquoise irises flooding his mind.
By the time he finally gave up and kicked the rumpled covers off himself, the sky was already starting to lighten as the sun edged closer and closer to peeking over the horizon. With a resigned sigh, Jeno lifted himself off the bed and padded towards the high window, looking out of the glass and down at the lower parts of the castle.
Harsh shadows cut into the stone, mellowing out the lines of the towers and hallway roofs so they all blended together. Jeno stood there for a long time, long enough for the sun to fully ascend over the line of the horizon and ease away the shadows that now only clung to the most hidden crevices of the castle stone.
His eyes remained unfocused, mind floating to the small corner in the library, to the small moment shared between him and Jaemin, and how things could have played out differently, in another world. Maybe there Jaemin hadn’t avoided Jeno, and instead they spent the whole day with their chairs pushed close enough that their thighs were touching as they read out of the same book. Maybe Jeno would somehow gain the courage to inch his hand closer to Jaemin’s on the table and interlock their pinkies, if only to gauge Jaemin’s reaction.
However this wasn’t that world, and there was still a huge rift between Jeno and Jaemin that Jeno didn’t know how to cross without falling down an infinite hole, never to return. Though, Jeno’s heart whispered, that small moment in the library, when Jaemin spoke to him first, could have been a sign of the rift shifting, the two sides moving closer together towards a jumpable distance. Jeno knew he would jump in a heartbeat at the first sign of possibility.
The sun was settled comfortably low in the sky now, letting enough light into the room to stir Jeno’s roommates and have them slowly rise from their sleep.
Soon, it would be time to head down to breakfast, and after that, the long awaited second task would begin.
***
Doyoung approached him once breakfast was finished.
“Are you two ready to go?”
Jeno nodded and stood up from the bench, looking behind him at Yangyang, who sent him a reassuring thumbs up. Sungchan followed in Jeno’s footsteps, standing up from where he was sitting across Yangyang, Jisung sending him his own sign of encouragement.
Donghyuck and Renjun weren’t at breakfast either, and suspiciously, neither was Chenle. Jaemin was nowhere to be seen, but that was expected at this point. Jeno momentarily wondered if he would meet up with them somewhere along the way towards the location of the second task, or if he was already waiting for them there.
The walk was silent, the hallways clear due to all the students being congregated in the Great Hall. Doyoung didn’t look behind him at them, and kept a brisk pace as they walked through the corridors until he led them through a door right next to a staircase.
When Jeno entered, he noticed it was just an empty, unused classroom, with nothing special inside.
Though, that wasn’t entirely true, as Jeno’s eyes zeroed in on Jaemin sitting at one of the desks, fingers absentmindedly tapping away at the surface. He turned at the sound of the door opening and new arrivals, and instead of his usual cold shoulder, he actually looked straight at Jeno.
Jeno almost froze in place, not knowing what to do with having all of Jaemin’s undivided attention for the first time in months. He gulped, feeling his heart rate pick up. He flickered his gaze away, looking elsewhere, like a coward.
The room was quiet, the prolonged silence stifling and too hot for midday in February.
“The three of you will stay in here until it’s time to call you in for the second task,” Doyoung spoke, voice steady against the stuttering awkwardness. “Unlike last time, you will all be entering together and completing the task simultaneously.”
Jeno nodded in response, Jaemin and Sungchan doing the same. With that, Doyoung left the room, taking with him the one pillar that was barely holding up the fragile atmosphere of the room.
Jeno slowly sunk down into the desk chair nearest to him, almost being able to hear his bones creak and muscles groan with the slowness in which he moved. He felt eyes searing hot into his back, but refused to look behind him, not knowing how to face the gaze he had longed to be directed at him for months.
He should take this as a good sign, he knew that, but now that he was finally presented with at least the smallest sliver of hope, he didn’t know how to react. If he approached Jaemin now, would he finally be able to properly apologize without interruptions, or would Jaemin blow it all back in his face in a way he would be unable to recover from?
His thoughts were leaving his head pounding, distracting him from the second task. He mentally reviewed all of his knowledge about Mandrakes and their properties, hoping they could somehow be of use to him with whatever it was they made them do.
Seemingly no time passed at all before the wooden door was creaking open once more and Doyoung was peeking his head inside, looking at the three of them. “Ready?” He asked them.
They all stood up together, filing out of the room one by one and following Doyoung down the hallway. Jeno noticed that they were going in the same direction they came from, approaching the Great Hall. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if the second task could somehow take place inside.
It seemed he was correct, because the noise of the crowd became extremely apparent as they neared the large doors. With a simple wave of his hand, Doyoung commanded the doors open, the hinges moaning as the heavy doors pulled themselves back to reveal the hall.
The four house tables were gone, and on all three walls were makeshift stands, raised all the way to the ceiling to accommodate for every student. The middle of the floor was occupied by three long work desks, and a few tall item shelves scattered around the area.
What really caught Jeno’s eye, however, were the three people tied to chairs with ropes all around every part of their bodies. Their heads were hung forward so Jeno couldn’t make out their faces, but even so, the color of their skin had his eyes widening. It was a garish shade of pink, so rich it looked as if they were covered in paint. Not only that, but all along their exposed arms and necks were tiny white bumps that looked like horrible rashes.
Doyoung ushered the three of them forward, and Jeno felt the moment all of them recognized the people in the chairs. He was sure the drop of his heart and the cold rush of his blood was felt by both Jaemin and Sungchan as well.
“Renjun,” Jeno breathed, right as Jaemin gasped out, “Chenle!” and Sungchan called loudly, “Donghyuck!”
His throat choked up and he almost tripped in his attempts to run over to Renjun, but an invisible force tugged him back before he got too close.
He whipped his head around and was met with the sight of Doyoung, his arm out signaling him as the spell caster that stopped Jeno. His face was all hard lines, features turning tight and pained.
“Back away from the students, Jeno, or risk being disqualified from the tournament.”
Jeno breathed in a shallow breath, his muscles shaking with the overwhelming urge to just turn around and save Renjun and Donghyuck.
“Doyoung,” He croaked.
Doyoung pressed his lips together, tearing his gaze forcefully away from Jeno.
Renjun made a strangled sort of noise behind him, and Jeno quickly spun back around to look at Renjun.
“Renjun?” He asked, trying to step forward again but the force pulled him back.
“Jeno?” A meek sort of rasp escaped Renjun’s lips, and Jeno felt his heart shatter at the raw confusion and pain laced into Renjun’s tone. He fought against the force, but it was too strong for him; he remained where he stood, unable to move. Renjun tried to speak again, but the only thing that came out was the broken half of a syllable, and then his chest constricted and he hiccuped, a small series of bubbles floating out of his mouth and up into the air before popping.
Jeno felt his blood reach a feverish temperature. “Don’t try and stop me Doyoung,” He called, once again trying to physically force his way against the magic Doyoung was casting. He didn’t prevail, and was only left with a sweaty brow and a heaving chest.
“Jeno, please,” Doyoung whispered, and even though he was far behind Jeno, Jeno could hear him loud and clear. Jeno opened his mouth once more to protest, to scream, to cry, to do anything, but he was interrupted by a loud voice.
“It’s alright, my dear champions, there is no cause for worry.”
Jeno, along with Jaemin and Sungchan, turned their heads back to the front doors of the Great Hall, where Taeyong and the rest of the judges were walking in alongside him, the haughtiness in their auras rolling off them in waves. It made Jeno sick to his stomach.
Taeyong’s features were calm, no signs of distress visible anywhere on his face. Jeno couldn’t tell if that was exactly comforting or enraging. “All will be explained, but you must do as Professor Kim says and step away from the students.”
Despite everything in him screaming no, Jeno knew he couldn’t resist the magic without it resulting in consequences. He took a deep breath and forced himself to take one, two, then three steps back toward Doyoung and everyone else, away from the students in the chairs.
“Good boy,” Taeyong soothed, gesturing his hand over to the three tables that were set up next to each other a couple dozen feet away from the chairs. Jeno scowled. “You three can take your positions at one of the three tables before we announce the task.”
Jaemin was the first to move, slowly walking over to the table in the middle, directly across from the chair Chenle was in.
Sungchan was quick to follow, making his way over to the table nearest Donghyuck.
With another shaky breath and one last fleeting look towards his brother, Jeno ducked his head and found his spot at the last table, opposite Renjun.
They all stood stark still, Jeno couldn’t even be sure if they were breathing. He couldn’t take his eyes off Renjun and Donghyuck, his worry growing larger and larger in his stomach as he heard small, almost indiscernible groans leaving their lips, the occasional hiccup racking through their chests and producing bubbles that floated into the air and popped. They were so clearly in pain, the white rash all over their skin only spreading as Jeno kept looking at them.
All at once he felt himself be punched in the gut, and he remembered Mark. Mark, one of the judges, who no doubt was on the planning committee for this task. He ripped his gaze away from Renjun and searched for Mark’s face, but he wasn’t facing Jeno. He was walking with the other judges to the center of the floor, to the long judge’s table that was erected a few ways behind the three chairs.
It was only when all the judges turned back around to face the crowd that Jeno could catch a clear glimpse of Mark’s face. Whatever pain Jeno was feeling seeing his friends in such a state, was portrayed almost tenfold in Mark’s eyes. There was anguish, regret, and most of all, guilt.
“Students,” Taeyong’s voice rang loud throughout the entire Hall, addressing the crowd cramped up in the steep stands all around them. Jeno looked all around him, and felt as though he was a lion waiting to be thrown into the ring and be hand-fed to a bloodthirsty gladiator.
“Welcome to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament! The second task will consist of a Potions test to see how well the champions perform under pressure, and when the fate of one of their loved ones is on the line.”
Jeno’s heart fell to the ground. Taeyong kept speaking.
“These three students were given a poison that was the homemade concoction of one of our professors many years ago. He never named the poison, but vials of it were given to sixth years as part of their curriculum to properly understand Golpalott’s Third Law. We will now see how well our champions fare well against it. They will also be given small samples of the poison, and from there will have exactly 90 minutes to create an anecdote and give it to their loved one.”
Jeno looked over to his right, where Jaemin and Sungchan were standing at their tables, watching Taeyong with unblinking eyes. The real weight of the tournament was finally being brought down on them, and they could do nothing but bare their teeth and push through it.
“However, we as judges would never do something to purposefully hurt any one of our students.” He gestured to a small wooden box that rested atop the judge’s table. “There are previously prepared anecdotes safely stored inside this box, should the champions end with less than satisfactory results. The poison isn’t fatal, and can easily be reversed, even if the process is a little complicated.”
The crowd cheered, and Jeno’s stomach churned, not feeling the least bit settled from Taeyong’s words. Renjun, Donghyuck, and Chenle were still poisoned. What would happen if one of the champion’s potions failed, and only worsened the condition of the students? Would the anecdote still work then?
Taeyong continued, completely unaffected, or if he was, he didn’t show it. “One final thing before the task finally commences. After the first task, the champions were sent a clue that could have possibly given them some aid in preparing for this task. I will now share that clue with you all.”
He reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a pair of earmuffs identical to the ones given to Jeno and the other champions. “Each champion was given a pair of earmuffs,” Taeyong explained, and the crowd let out a series of low oohs and ahhs. “As some of you clever students have probably already figured out, the earmuffs are of course a node to Mandrakes, a plant that is a crucial part to most potions and anecdotes.” He turned his neck to the front doors of the Hall, and as if on cue, the doors opened by themselves and long tables were rolled in by the Herbology professor. Upon closer inspection, Jeno noticed that the tables were actually long pots filled with soil, with little sprouts peeking out from the top.
“Mandrakes,” He whispered, watching as the professor wheeled the pots to stand next to the shelves filled with other potion supplies near where Sungchan stood.
“Thank you Hyungmin,” Taeyong commented, before the professor walked off to someplace in the stands. Taeyong turned back to the ground. “We have provided the champions with everything they would find in any standard Potions classroom, as well as Mandrakes ready to be picked and trimmed.”
Jeno gulped, his throat dry. He looked at the shelves, as well as the rows of Mandrakes, and, just because he was in the line of his sight (absolutely no other reason), Jeno looked at Jaemin at the table next to him. Jaemin wasn’t looking at the pots of Mandrakes, or even the shelves of potion supplies. He was looking straight at Chenle, his facial features filled with anguish for his best friend.
Jeno’s heart squeezed painfully. He wished he could help Jaemin in some way, but he knew interfering with the other champions during the task was forbidden. As much as he yearned to cure all the students immediately, if only so Jaemin didn’t look so heartbroken, he didn’t want to risk getting himself or Jaemin disqualified from the tournament.
He bit his tongue hard and forcefully focused his gaze back on Taeyong, who was about to start the task.
“If you’re clever you’ll also know why the earmuffs are a clue related to Mandrakes; their cries when picked are fatal to those not wearing a pair. To counter that,” Taeyong picked his hand up and snapped his fingers in the direction of the middle of the room.
At once, an energy field sprang up from the ground and extended up into the air until it combined together, creating a dome with the champions, poisoned students, and all the supplies inside.
“This is an energy field that will trap all sound inside, so that should the champions decide to use the Mandrakes in their potion, they can do so without risking everyone else’s safety.”
Jeno glanced up at the energy field, almost completely invisible if not for the faint rush of energy that passed along the edges every few seconds.
“What about the poisoned students?” Jaemin called suddenly. Jeno looked at him, then at the students, who were also inside the field.
He didn’t understand what Jaemin was getting at, before all at once he understood. The students didn’t have earmuffs, and were too immobilized to cover their own ears.
Nobody responded to Jaemin, and Jeno realized it was because they couldn’t hear him. The energy field was already in effect, so any and all sound was trapped inside.
“Now!” Taeyong said, with more vigor than before, and Jeno almost felt the urge to cast a jinx on him seeing how easily he could smile seeing two of his own students reduced to such a state by his own doing. “It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Let’s begin the task!”
“Hey!” Jaemin called again, to no avail.
Jeno quickly looked back and forth between Taeyong and Jaemin, feeling himself fall into limbo. Taeyong said something to Doyoung too quiet for Jeno to hear, and Doyoung slipped his wand out of his robes. He cast a silent spell, creating a giant makeshift timer that floated in the air above the floor. It showcased the numbers “90:00” on all four sides of it.
The sinking realization that the judges either hadn’t accounted for the poisoned students, or just didn’t care, settled uncomfortably into Jeno’s bones, and had his throat closing up and sweat breaking out on his forehead.
He glanced to his right and saw Jaemin straight at him, all the conflicted emotions Jeno was holding within him reflecting in the shine of Jaemin’s eyes.
The crowd started to cheer, louder and louder as Taeyong started counting down from 5. Jeno could barely even hear himself think, the pressure of what was about to happen weighing down on him and stealing whatever breath was sitting in his lungs.
“It’ll be okay,” He heard himself say, still looking at Jaemin. He didn’t think Jaemin heard him, his voice coming out breathless and mumbled, but Jaemin visibly gulped and nodded his head.
“1!” A loud horn blared, and when Jeno looked up, the timer had started counting down.
The task had begun.