The Dusk Elf's Revenge

There it was, gleaming under the starlight. Somehow, Oleandra had ended back into the clearing containing the Triwizard Cup, but it was pointless to go after it now; if she turned her back to the Dusk-Elf, she would die. But she still had a chance; her enemy's Lethifold would go mad if she hit it with a Patronus Charm.

"Expecto Patro—" Oleandra began, drawing her wand.

"None of that!" the Elf exclaimed.

The Elf turned into a blur as she moved inhumanly fast, catching Oleandra's wrist and twisting it, causing her to drop her wand. With her left hand, she then punched Oleandra in the solar plexus, causing an explosion of pain to blossom across her chest.

Oleandra gasped and dropped to her knees, while the Elf calmly picked up her wand and snapped it in half.

"Convenient little things, aren't they?" she remarked casually, tossing the remains of Oleandra's wand behind her. "I wouldn't move too much if I were you," she added. "I shattered your sternum— you might puncture your lungs if you keep that up. I wouldn't want you to die on me before we've had our fun…"

"How?" Oleandra wheezed. She needed to buy some time, think of a plan…

The Elf threw back her head and laughed. It was a sound unlike any Oleandra had ever heard before; it was like the tinkling of a crystal bell, melodious and beautiful.

"How?" the Elf repeated mockingly, a smile drawing itself on her face. "It was all too easy, Godling; I simply waited near the Midgard gate for one of your companions to pass through. And soon enough, the little blond boy came to visit, and I slipped in after him upon his return."

Damn it, so it had been Draco's fault after all! If she survived this, Oleandra was going to kill him!

"The poison…" Oleandra managed to spit out. "Was that you?"

"An accident, but yes. Made from mushrooms that only grow in Svartalfheim," the Dusk-Elf nodded. "I'm still surprised the idiot boy managed to survive. You got lucky he drank it in your place."

"But how did you manage to infiltrate the school so easily?" Oleandra groaned. "The school wouldn't have left a non-human running around…"

It looked as though the Elf very much enjoyed having a helpless Oleandra under her power, because she didn't have any problems answering her questions. It suddenly occurred to her that this female Elf was quite young…

"A simple disguise," the Elf gloated, before putting on some sort of mask over her face. "A human skin face mask— recognize this girl?"

"Hannah Abott…" Oleandra murmured. "She's… dead?"

The week before the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations had arrived, that must have been when the Elf arrived… So, it hadn't just been her imagination when she'd felt spied upon. Hannah Abott had been hanging around her an awful lot this year, too… Of course, there was the poisoning, she'd known about their special orders because she'd been there when Oleandra and Daphne had gone to the kitchens, but before that…

"Your Lethifold," Oleandra said. "You stole it from Hagrid, didn't you?"

Indeed, the Lethifold that the Elf was wearing was much different from an ordinary one; it was much bigger and it had dangerous-looking spikes growing out of its back. It was the offspring of Oleandra's own Lethifold and Hagrid's Manticore. And now that she thought about it, hadn't Professor Hagrid mentioned that his Nifflers had been scared of one of the Hufflepuff students? It must have been the Elf, disguised as Hannah… She'd been wearing the stolen Lethifold offspring the entire time…

But no sooner had she said those words than she regretted ever having pronounced them, as she witnessed an expression of pure fury paint itself on the Elf's face.

"To wear a Lethifold is an honour reserved only to the queen's bravest fighters," the Dusk-Elf hissed. "I would have inherited mine from my father, but you murdered him and his entire squad, before stealing my birthright."

The Elf took a deep breath.

"I would have liked to strip your flesh from your bones earlier, but you were too well protected. But I knew my chance would come, and when the Sprout human recruited the other idiots and me to help create this maze… I knew what I had to do: leave a back door for myself, and lie in wait for you…"

She grinned.

"My name is Icthiara, and my father's name was Izamír. And now that you know who has bested you, it's high time I had my revenge. Goodbye, Godling…"

'Cloak, do it now!' Oleandra inwardly shouted, as the Elf leaned in to finish her off.

A tendril of darkness shot out from her side, but Cloak's attack was quickly caught by the Elf's own Lethifold. It pulled, and Oleandra screamed in shared anguish as Cloak was torn away from her very being, devoured alive by its own offspring, strip by agonizing strip of living cloth.

"It seems you want your death to be a painful one," Icthiara said, a mirthless smile on her lips. "I am going to enjoy this…"

The Dusk-Elf was much too close, and much too fast, for Oleandra to fight back. If she even opened her mouth again, or if her fingers twitched the slightest bit, the Elf would break her neck in a heartbeat. Oleandra had beaten their kind before; but she'd had the advantage of range, and using the Patronus on her pursuing party on Nidavellir had been dumb luck. She had never faced one head-on; she had taken her gaolers by surprise when she had escaped from their hideout, after all…

There was no escaping it; Oleandra would have to resort to the dark magic of the Helm of Terror to even have the slightest chance of surviving. She didn't want to do it, but between that and dying, there wasn't even a choice to make.

The world around them seemed to melt; pitch-black ink seemed to ooze down from the sky, painting the world in darkness. The Dusk-Elf was used to the shadows of her own darklands, but this was somehow even darker than that. Before she knew it, the only beings left in this world of darkness were her and Oleandra.

"W-what are you doing?" Icthiara stammered. "You…"

Ægishjálmur shone brightly on Oleandra's forehead; her eyes were as beams that penetrated to the deepest parts of Icthiara's soul…! But suddenly, the illusion was gone, replaced with the image of Oleandra spitting out blood on the ground. She had pushed herself too far, and just as the Elf had warned her, she had punctured one of her lungs with her broken ribs.

Icthiara let out a terrible cry and lunged forwards, intending to pierce Oleandra's heart, but her dagger bounced off the Helm of Terror's invisible protection.

"Harry, Patronus Charm, NOW!" Oleandra cried, spitting out more blood.

The Dusk-Elf whirled around, but found that there was nobody there; Oleandra had been talking to empty space; she had been tricked! But unbeknownst to her, she had just fulfilled the conditions for Oleandra's Fairy magic…

"Enough games!" she spat, whirling back around to finish off Oleandra once and for all, but to her horror, she found that the human girl had plunged her arm through her ribcage. But strangely enough, there was no blood; it was as if her skin and her clothes were bending inwards into her chest around the human's arm…

"Your heart…" Oleandra whispered, a thin rivulet of blood streaming down the sides of her mouth, "is mine!"

Icthiara backhanded Oleandra across the face with her monstrous strength— the blow sent her flying ten feet away, and when she landed, she did not get back up again.

But in her hand pulsed Icthiara's still beating heart...