67 Susan

Lucas watched as Susan, still smiling despite the interruption, was gently lowered back to the ground by the Aurors' magic. Her excitement had clearly not waned, though the Aurors seemed far more concerned than she was.

Frank stepped forward, his tone firm but not unkind. "Please keep your distance, Miss Bones. We're only trying to ensure that everyone remains safe."

Susan's grin faltered just slightly as she glanced between Lucas and the Aurors. She folded her arms, clearly annoyed but attempting to keep her composure. "He's not a threat," she said with a determined voice. "I just wanted to see him. You can't keep me away."

Lucas took a step closer, his face softening. He held up a hand to the Aurors, silently asking them to give them a moment, which they did, however, they kept their wands around.

Lucas approached Susan slowly, his eyes softening with each step, while the aurors strenthened their grip on their wands. "Susan, I'm really happy to see you, but things have gotten complicated," he said gently with a hint of longing.

Her eyes, which had been gleaming with excitement, clouded with frustration and her heart beat like it wanted to escape her chest.

Denial eventually set in.

Susan disregarded whatever Lucas' implications meant. "I don't care about complications, Lucas," she said, her voice shaky but resolute. "I just wanted to be here for you. I thought we—" she stopped herself, biting her lip.

Yet reality was as careless as ever.

Lucas could see the conflict in her eyes, a mixture of affection, confusion, and a touch of fear. He sighed, this wouldn't be easy, but it had to be done. "I know. I never wanted to do this to you. I thought after I sorted out my feelings that we could give it a shot, but I think I found someone else. Someone I see myself being together, forever."

Susan's eyes widened and the world seemed to be closing in around her as Lucas's words hit her like a wave. She stood frozen, trying to process what he was saying. The smile that had once lit her face now faded, replaced with a deep, aching hurt.

"Someone else?" she whispered, her voice quieter than the wind. Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of their history—every glance, every conversation, every hope she'd held onto since they had shared that moment by the Black Lake. She had never imagined it would end like this, so abruptly, so painfully.

Lucas winced, even if compared to the pain she was in, he felt almost nothing. Regardless of that, he hated himself for causing her this much pain. But he also saw it as a sign of healing. He finally felt something for someone else other than his mom and Akane. "I never meant to hurt you, Susan. You mean so much to me. But... things have changed. I've changed. And this tournament made me realize a lot about myself. For one that I don't want to be here."

Susan took a step back, her arms still crossed, but now as if to protect herself from the outside world. Her voice shook, but there was a defiant edge to it. "So that's it, then? After everything? You just went away and found someone else? Didn't you tell me you knew how I felt about you? Did that mean nothing? Did I mean nothing?"

Her words stung Lucas, but he couldn't meet her gaze for too long. He had to remain firm, for her sake as much as his. "I didn't want to drag you into this, Susan. It wouldn't be fair to you."

Tears welled up in Susan's eyes, but she quickly wiped them away, unwilling to let him see her break. "Who is it, Lucas?" she demand. "Who is she?"

Lucas stopped for a moment, knowing it would only add salt to the wound. "Her name's Akane. She's special. Someone who understands me in a way I didn't expect."

Susan stared at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak. "Akane?" she repeated, as if the name itself were foreign and painful. "I've never even heard of her. How could someone I've never met take you away from me?"

Lucas took a deep breath, trying to be as gentle as possible. "It's not about taking me away, Susan. It's about what's right for both of us. I don't want to keep you tied to something that's not going to make you happy in the long run. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want, and that's not me."

Tears finally slipped from Susan's eyes as she took another step back, her hands trembling as she wiped at her face. "I thought I was that person for you. I thought I was enough."

Lucas's heart broke as he watched her struggle. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "You deserve so much more than what I can give."

He took a step towards her, but Susan viscerally yelled in fear, "don't take it away again. Don't do it. Let me keep it this time."

As if she had read his mind, Lucas came to an abrupt halt.

He wanted to say something else to at least ease a bit of her pain, but he knew nothing that could. All he could do was watch as she turned away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she walked back toward the castle, leaving him standing there, consumed by the bittersweet ache of having told the truth.

Frank and Albert, who had been watching from a respectful distance, exchanged a glance, unsure of what to say.

"I really am sorry," Lucas whispered to himself, knowing Susan couldn't hear him anymore.

----

Lucas stood at the edge of the arena, his brown eyes scanning the landscape ahead. The cheers of the crowd echoed in the distance, but he barely registered the noise. His mind was calm, focused. Unlike the other champions, who had spent months preparing for the Triwizard Tournament's first task, Lucas had arrived at Hogwarts halfway through the year, leaving him with little time to prepare.

Not that he needed it.

He had trained under circumstances that had prepared him for things far more terrifying than any task the tournament could throw at him, except maybe the dragon. While the others might have poured over books or practiced spells, Lucas had a different strategy to overcome the challenges of the Triwizard Tournament.

Frank and Albert stood right above the gate he had come through, both Aurors watching him intently. They seemed uncertain of what to expect, it wasn't explained in detail what kinds of powers Lucas wielded, or which spells he could use. Frank, in particular, seemed to have a growing a certain respect for the young wizard, a respect born from the thought that the boy in front of him had far more discipline and drive than he had had when he was his age, otherwise Lucas wouldn't be that powerful.

Lucas exhaled slowly, the cold air swirling around him as the crowd's roars dulled into background noise. He felt the intensity of the situation, but it didn't faze him. His thoughts were centered on the beast in front of him, a creature of pure destructive power.

The arena stretched wide in front of him, the ground scorched and broken from the previous champions' attempts. He had seen the other contestants struggle, relying on their spells and wits to subdue or evade the dragon's wrath. Fleur in particular used her racial magic. Lucas, however, had something different in mind.

Standing near the gate, he could feel the tension from the Aurors above him. Frank and Albert had barely taken their eyes off him ever since their arrival. They probably were told about his feats and skills, but neither of them could fully grasp the depth of it. Not yet.

"Here he comes," Albert muttered to Frank, his eyes narrowing as Lucas calmly took out his wand from his robes. 

With a deep exhale his domain bulldozed throughout the arena.

The dragon's golden eyes instantly fixed on Lucas, its powerful body tense, ready to strike. It let out a low, rumbling growl, sending a ripple of fear through the crowd. But Lucas remained unfazed, his eyes never leaving the creature.

The arena seemed to shrink around him, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. Time slowed as Lucas inspected the magnificent specimen in front of him. From the deadly spikes on its tail to the murderous teeth in its mouth, everything was closely recorded in his mind. Even the power its body radiated was noted. Behind those weapons of war that could rip a wizards to shreds in seconds was a magical power compared to the Oni chief.

It deserved every bit of notoriety it had.

However, it was far from the stories of old. It was not the unstoppable castle destroying beast the tales from the middle ages talked about. This in front of him was, to be frank, a disappointment.

The dragon, sensing something unusual, hesitated. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed the air, confused by the lack of aggression from the young wizard. It let out another snarl, but its movements became less erratic, its powerful tail swaying slowly, ready to leap at a moment's notice.

Frank and Albert exchanged uncertain glances from the stands. "What is he doing?" Frank whispered, his brow furrowing. "Some strange magic he picked up while on the run?"

Albert shook his head, his eyes fixed on Lucas. "I don't think that's his plan."

Lucas finally moved. His hand slowly raised above his head, never once pointing at the dragon. The creature shifted its massive head, its golden eyes narrowing. The crowd, confused by his action, began murmuring, but Lucas ignored it all.

And then in front of the eyes of all of magical europe a red spark left Lucas' wand.

The sign of giving up.

The crowd was stunned for a moment, before erupting in gasps and shouts of disbelief. Instead of the long awaited spectacle of Lucas Foster fighting against a dragon, all they got was him surrendering. They had been hungry for another display of bravery and magical prowess. Champions were supposed to confront the dragons, not concede before the battle had even begun.

Lucas lowered his wand, his face expressionless. He didn't need to face the dragon. In his mind, there was no point in participating in this pointless fight for politics he was forcefully dragged into.

Frank and Albert, observing from above, were just as bewildered as the crowd. Frank's brows shot up in surprise. "Is he... giving up? What kind of strategy is this?" he muttered, perplexed.

Albert, however, kept his eyes trained on Lucas. "No," he said softly, shaking his head. "He's making a statement. This isn't about fear or failure. He's telling everyone that he doesn't need to prove himself here."

The judges, seated at the far end of the arena, exchanged nervous glances. Dumbledore, who had been watching the events unfold with keen interest, leaned forward in his seat, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Quite the bold move," he murmured to himself, stroking his beard. 'But will whoever threw his name in be fine with this?'

Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons, looked utterly baffled. "Is this boy mad?" she whispered to Karkaroff, who sat beside her. The Durmstrang headmaster only scowled in response, clearly disapproving of what he saw as an insult to the tournament.

Finally, Ludo Bagman, who had been serving as the announcer for the event, stepped forward, his voice amplified through the stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen, it seems... young Lucas Foster has... opted to forfeit this task!" His voice wavered, unsure of how to phrase the situation.

The crowd once again erupted into a mixture of boos, jeers, and confused chatter. Some were outraged, feeling robbed of the spectacle they had come to see, while others were simply bewildered by the unorthodox decision. A few, however, watched Lucas with a sense of quiet intrigue, overthinking and trying to understand a deeper meaning behind his actions.

Lucas turned away from the dragon, walking calmly back toward the gate. He could feel the eyes of thousands upon him, but none of it mattered. He had made his choice. The tournament, the fame, the glory, it was all meaningless to him. He wasn't here for that.

He just wanted to go back home.

---------

AN: Don't jump the gun, I have something planned.

But was it too fast?

I didn't want to pull something out of my ass to fit some more chapters before the first task.

To be honest I still have no idea what I am doing. Don't get me wrong, I have a vision for the story, but in every chapter I am reminded that my writing skills utterly fail to reach my imagination. That's probably the reason why I don't write that much. But I also don't want to sit on a chapter until I think it is exactly like I want it to be, because I fear I would never publish it. And yet maybe that is what I should do. But on the other hand this is my first time writing a story so it shouldn't matter that it isn't perfect, and yet it somehow does matter to me.

I guess you can't crawl into my head, so you have to be content with this imperfection.