Lyraa had made a big mistake. She'd fallen asleep.

It had been four months since the triwizard tournament's second task ended, and it resulted in the win of Durmstrangs. Beauxbatons came in second, leading to Hogwarts coming in last. The glory she'd felt for the first task she'd completed had now completely swung to despair and hate. 

The school had made her pay for that mistake; with increased bullying, a dirty look from all passers-by,  and her own house to hate her. She had no idea how things had so drastically changed; everything was different eight months ago! How did her glory and excitement turn to agony and emotional scarring? 

Nothing was worse than being cast-off from the school, again. At least she hadn't lost the tournament. No one cared about that though. 

So here she was, in her dorm room, crying, stuffing her pillow in her mouth to muffle the sniffles. The teasing was constant. Stupid pretty girls from Slytherin would ruin her homework, hide her books and throw her broom away. 

This time, they'd slipped an unknown potion in Lyraa's cauldron during potion class, resulting in a frothy mess. Snape took twenty points away from Ravenclaw, gaining her double the dirty looks from her brethren.

Later in the day, the same girls took her wand while she was at Dumbledore's office, and snapped it when she caught them. Now here she was, weeping, holding her one prized possession in her one hand, knowing she would need to get a new one soon.

That Kevin. Possibly he was the one who'd told the girls to do that. Possibly he was still being a sore loser.

Lyraa hadn't got time to prepare for the third task. They'd said the last task would be a classic and traditional one. She wasn't told when exactly, all she knew was the task was supposed to be this week. 

It didn't matter to her anymore. She doesn't have a wand. She knew she'll fail even worse than before in this last task. Why wouldn't she? She's done no preparation, has no wand and cannot perform even the simplest of spells without it. Sure, a few jinxes can be performed verbally, but those were practically useless. Like making a glass of water float towards her. She did the action subconsciously, but how the hell will that be useful in this task?

She cried. Silently. In the dead of night, hoping no one would hear her sniffles or her silent screams. Lyraa rarely cried, and when she did, it was ugly.

Her beautiful long blonde hair was now dull with darkness and gloom, slightly disheveled. Her emerald green eyes were also glazed with tears as drops fell from them. Her nose was a cherry red. Her teeth sank deeper in the soft white pillow and her jaw hurt. A lot.

The silence in the dorms was eerie. It seemed as if there was no presence in the huge room. Only the soft sniffles and snores coming from her bunk disturbed her serenity.

She opened her bleary red eyes. Her head was foggy, thoughts slow and jumbled. Exhaustion washed over Lyraa as the weariness from weeping hit her like a brick wall. She closed her eyes. She slowed her breathing. She tried to fall asleep, so that she'd return to her normal life– one that wouldn't torture her like so.

A dreamworld.

A few hours later, Lyraa woke up to silence.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to get used to the darkness. She wiped her eyes and checked her magical watch (gifted by her mother) and checked the time.

3:32 am. Great. So it was the next day.

Yay.

The first thing Lyraa noticed after checking her watch was the peace. No shifting, no breathing, no movement. It was as if there was not a single soul in the entire dorm. Even the bunk above her was empty.

That means...no one was here.

Lyraa carefully got up from her bunk. She'd slept with her robes on, and she wiped her dried tears and face with it. Her pale green eyes scanned the dorms for someone, only to know of its futility.

Something was strange. Lyraa took her wand, and went to her bedroom window. She opened it and looked down. Indeed, no one was on the grounds either. 

Lyraa jumped out the window, and made her way down by climbing the stone wall. Yes, it seemed silly, but she could've done otherwise with her trusty wand. Alas, she had to make do with her skills instead. 

After a while, her foot eventually touched soft grass. Lyraa sighed and let go of the wall. 

That was a grave mistake.

The world shifted and the blonde girl felt a small tug on her belly button before the wall vanished, and the scene solidified.

She wasn't in the school grounds anymore. Lyraa's hand wavered over the cold, wet grass beneath her feet. Slowly, she turned. 

In front of her stood many hedges shaped in the form of an archway. Ahead, the bushes split into three tunnel pathways. Cold, peculiar white mist clung to the atmosphere of the dark scene. A sign glowed directly above the pathways, and on it was written:

'Choose your path'.

When Lyraa read it, the words seemed to bounce and echo in her head. 

Choose. 

How absurd. 

Obviously, the maze was the last task. A traditional task– opponents race to the center of the labyrinth to find the triwizard cup. However, this time, the task seemed...different. They were actually daring her, to waltz into the danger ahead if she were brave enough to. 

Did she really have a choice?

How...sadistic of them.

If she failed to win or forfeited, the school would hate her forever. If she died trying, she'll give pain to her parents. In both (most likely to happen) situations, it'd give pain to herself or her close relations. 

Her only choice...was to win.

So how dare they ask such a question.

She strode into the arch, praying that she doesn't die from her stupid decision.

Lyraa's emerald green eyes scanned the yellow note and read the text for the third time.

These are the rules for the third task: Contestants have to cross the maze and reach the Hogwarts' gate before the sun's first rays hit them. The first contestant to do so will be champion and the winning school will be awarded the triwizard cup. If forfeiting, or if assistance required, send out red sparks from your wand and a teacher will come for your aid. If done so, you are automatically disqualified.

Well, if she could use her wand. This was now the main problem.

How in the hell was she supposed to cross the maze without a proper wand?

And then, a light bulb went off in her head. 

'Of course...survival of the fittest...' the muggle phrase came back to her. If this worked, she'd either be disqualified or awarded with the win. This was a 50-50 chance she was not confident in. Then again, did she really have a choice?

Survival of the fittest indeed...

The blonde girl narrowly dodged her fifth fireball. The poor blonde had been running through the winding paths of trees and bushes, avoiding squirts of acid from blast-ended skrewts, blazing fireballs from dragons and attacks from many magical creatures.

She'd passed many paintings she could swear she'd passed in the Hogwarts' stairways but were now placed on the soft and spiky walls of leaves and branches. Some people were helpful and gave directions. Others outright insulted you, and tried to trigger you into attacking them.

'Also part of the maze,' thought Lyraa. 'The insulting paintings probably were put to slow down and anger us; to make us forget about the maze. Well, it'd only work for hot-tempered wizards. Don't know who'd fall for that...'

She tucked and rolled as a Gytrash almost crashed into her. The ghoul went through the trees. Minutes later, Lyraa heard what completely changed her odds of winning by a 180.

She heard a high pitched scream, and red sparks shot out in the air.

'Yes!' Whispered Lyraa to herself as she saw an archway leading to the scream. She sprinted faster than before. Chest heaving and eyes glazed, Lyraa couldn't believe it. Had God finally took pity on her?

After a moment, the blonde finally reached the location. Her green eyes sparkled as she saw the Beauxbatons' girl crumpled on the floor, wand in hand, but unconscious. 

Without hesitation, she stole the wand.

'Ha...survival of the fittest...how fitting...' Lyraa mumbled to herself. She cleaned the wand with the hem of her sleeve and felt the wand.

'Hmm..the wood feels ebony. About 10 inches.' She rambled. The girl hadn't noticed the dead silence. She was so busy in her own thoughts that she hadn't seen the total darkness. Her head whipped behind when the temperature suddenly dropped by ten degrees.

Behind her, was a dementor, a dark face shadowed by the hood. 

Lyraa panted. She was covered in sweat and strewn mud. Her eyes had gained a dull look. Her hair was even more disheveled than before and tufts of grass were stuck in it. She looked in an awful state, much more exhausted than before.

The blonde had fought tooth and nail to escape that stupid dementor. The wand didn't fit her and resorted to sending out random sparks but not her Owl Patronus which she desired.

She had to flee. The dementor didn't help. It kept on trying to suck her soul with its chapped, dry lips. Finally, her owl Patronus came out of the wand and drove the dark figure away before it vanished after a moment.

But it was all worth it. 

Her brushed-up hands pushed open the large doors leading into Hogwarts. The excitement and pleasant feeling bubbling inside her overpowered the nervousness. After all of that, finally, she was getting the win that she deserved.

No more being the 'quiet and bullied-on' witch.

The doors opened. A crack of light from the luminous grand hall hit her face. 'Yes, this was real. This ain't a dream...' thought the blonde.

Unfortunately, life is unfair.

She pushed the doors a little bit before a brute force pulled her back; it sent her flying into the bushes behind. She winced as the branches scratched her skin. 

The Durmstrangs' boy rushed into the halls as the creaking gates opened wide.

'NO!' Yelled Lyraa as the boy nearly stepped into the Grand Hall. She was close behind. She'd recovered from that push pretty quickly, chasing the boy at her top speed.

Yet it was futile. She knew it.

The boy reached the Hall just when she caught up to him. Immediately, explosions were heard and golden confetti rained down in the large room. 

The Beauxbatons' were solemn and serious. They glared daggers at Lyraa, who appeared in the hall a few moments later. Her eyes glanced at the boy, then at the Durmstrangs, then the Hogwarts' professors.

The dirty looks they gave were no worse than the Beauxbatons'. Lyraa only glanced at a few. Professor McGonagall had her brow furrowed and eyes bulging. Filch kept muttering under his breath, "Stupid little girl, soiled the Hogwarts' name...'

Professor Flitwick, her favorite Charms professor and the head of Ravenclaw, looked at the girl out of pity. Professor Snape gave his usual disgusted look.

But what hurt her was the look her headmaster– Dumbledore – gave. Those kindly eyes, full of pity for her. It made her want to punch him in the face.

After all, wasn't he the one who prepared this? He hadn't bothered to give her a wand beforehand or in the maze, knowing that she wouldn't win without it. If that one thing was obtained to her earlier, she'd have reached before the boy. She wouldn't have had to formulate a plan to steal the french girl's wand.

She would have won.

Yet he gave pity to her?

With glassy, tear-brimmed eyes, she watched the Durmstrangs' boy being awarded the triwizard cup. That huge, blue thing which seems blurry to Lyraa's eyes. Drops fell from her face for the umpteenth time that day.

That was the day her heart changed.

And that was the day a villain was born.

THIS BOLD TEXT IS NOT PART OF THE ENTRY. THIS ENTRY COUNTS 1996 WORDS ACCORDING TO WATTPAD.