Awakening || Harry & Hermione

Chapter 6.1

The second task was tomorrow morning.

Harry had no doubt that the him from the start of the semester would have been in full blown panic mode, probably having no idea what to expect from the task or how to even pass it. He would probably have buried himself in the library somewhere and secretly wished for a shelf to fall on him while Hermione worked throughout the night to save his sorry arse once again.

But the current Harry was different. He had not one but two solutions under his sleeve: the Gillyweed had worked perfectly in a test trial at the Prefect's Bathroom while the bubblehead charm was saved as an alternative safety measure. He had also spent the last few months using the books provided by the Room of Requirement to research the layout of underwater environments and how to use handy little spells and know-hows to navigate his way towards populous underwater areas.

He was ready. Completely prepared. He had never felt so confident in his life. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for Hermione.

Harry subtly reached out and snatched the book her face was buried in out of her hands.

"Why don't we just relax? I swear I've seen you read that book three times already."

"Harry!" She huffed. "Give it back! What if I missed something? What if it was important? What if you'll need it for the task—"

"Hermione!" He stood up from his chair "Look at me, I'm not worried. Why? Because I'm prepared, I'm ready for whatever they throw at me. You made me ready."

Her eyes darted away from his guiltily. "I know! But I can't help but worry! I doubt I'll be able to see how you're doing once you enter the Black Lake. It's such a terrible feeling, knowing that you're in danger, but not being able to do anything."

"Is that what it was like for the dragon?"

"Don't remind me." She shuddered at the memory.

"Hey, if I could survive that, this will be a walk in the park," Harry joked. When Hermione said nothing, he sighed. "I never told you, did I? During the first task, I was flying on the seat of my broom, thinking I would fall any minute or be burnt to ashes the next second. The only thing that kept me sane was remembering your words, your belief that I would win. So... you see, in a way, you were there all along—fighting that great, ugly Horntail by my side."

She seemed too stupefied by his confession to say anything, and so Harry took the opportunity to shove the stack of books by her side out of the way and pull her out of her chair.

"I'll get past this task the same way." Seeing her shoulders loosen, Harry smirked. "Now, can we please leave?"

"Ooh!" She crossed her arms and tried to fight back a smile. "You can't go around saying such unbearably sweet things to try and win against me—not when I'm such an emotional wreck. That's playing dirty."

Harry was about to respond that he didn't care if he played unfairly, as long as it stopped her from looking so damn miserable worrying over him—as long as she smiled again—but at that moment, Fred and George emerged from behind a bookshelf, saying that McGonagall was asking for Hermione.

Walking back to the dormitories alone, Harry somehow felt like his steps were getting heavier and couldn't get rid of the uneasy feeling rising within him.

_____

She never came back.

As the hours passed in the common room, even the fire started to dwindle, with Harry's heart sinking lower and lower. She had promised that she would be back soon. Hermione never made promises to him that she failed to keep—not unless, she had no other choice in the matter.

The timing was too suspicious. She had disappeared right before the second task; surely, that wasn't a coincidence? Harry paced across the large room, the nerves in his stomach not letting him stay still. Was she safe? Was she okay? The order had come from McGonagall and there was no reason for a teacher to take her unless—

Harry felt his knees go weak. Unless she was part of the preparations for the Tournament.

The lines from the riddle ran through his brain haphazardly:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss.

Who. Not what. It was a who this whole time. Who in this school would he ever consider precious enough to 'sorely' miss? There was no one else, really.

Well, Harry thought, that's decided then: they've taken her beneath that god awful lake and I'm going to have to get her back.

The last two lines of the poem seemed to mock him:

But past an hour, the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

All the ease and confidence from before vanished like smoke, leaving him trembling on the floor with an all-consuming fear. If it was just his life at stake, he wouldn't care as much. But this was Hermione. Hermione, the only true friend he really had.

The world had taken almost every spark of happiness from his life; he would be damned if he let them take Hermione too.

_____

The Gillyweed worked like a charm: the icy water no longer felt like the Tundra and was instead pleasantly cool against his skin, his gills passed on oxygen to his body so there was no fear of suffocating, and his flipper-like feet propelled him forward with mind-numbing speed. It was almost too much to take in for the boy who had at most played once or twice at the shallow end of the pool before being choked by Dudley. He was moving too fast, the water rushing past him, as he entered the seemingly endless depths of the lake. It was too black—the darkness seemed to want to swallow him whole.

But all those fears meant nothing to him when he remembered that Hermione was down there somewhere. Go faster, he urged himself despite his apprehension, go further into the darkness.

The scenery flashed by quickly and he came to an area of gray-lit water where strands of black seaweed and a group of grindylows were floating. He recognized the setting from one of the many descriptions in the books about magical underwater environments. He wasn't far, he only had to cross that expanse of black mud—

Faster. I can do this. Just a little faster.

When he heard the familiar singing of the merpeople, he almost wept from relief and the want to give his exhausted muscles a reprieve. But it wasn't over, yet. He had to find Hermione.

He saw the merpeople first: with their grey, scaly skin, wild hair, and sharp, yellow eyes. Some of them leered at him mockingly but he paid them no mind as he swam directly to the center of the crowd where four people were tied to a stone merman statue.

I've found you. Harry sighed in relief, even as his heart sank from the way Hermione floated there—so listless and lifeless, so much like that terrible time when she had been petrified and he hadn't known whether she would ever wake up again.

A sense of urgency seized him and he brandished his wand towards the ropes binding Hermione, whispering a spell and hoping it would work despite the bubbling noise that came from his speech instead. It didn't. He searched around for something sharp and gathered the rocks from the lake's floor, using them to saw away at the ropes. One of the jagged edges sliced his hand but he hardly noticed.

Thankfully, the ropes soon fell away and Harry hurriedly grabbed Hermione. The texture of her wet hair brushing against his face, the reassuring weight as he took her into his arms calmed him down slightly—she's here, she's safe now. I've got her.

He looked towards the three other people still tied to the statue. Cho with her head hanging listlessly downwards, a petite, silver-haired girl whose face was turning green, and a dark-haired boy who reminded him of Krum. His head swivelled, and he craned his neck to see if any other champions had arrived, but no one was in sight. What should he do? He couldn't just leave the rest of them, it wasn't right. What if the other champions didn't make it—

". . . your time's half gone, so tarry not.

Lest what you seek stays here to rot. . ."