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| WHO HE'D MISS MOST |
song: look after you by the fray.
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"YOU SAID YOU'D ALREADY WORKED OUT THAT EGG CLUE!" said Hermione indignantly.
"Keep your voice down!" said Harry crossly. "I just need to —sort of fine-tune it, all right?"
Ara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at the very back of the Charms class with a table to themselves. They were supposed to be practising the opposite of the Summoning Charm today — the Banishing Charm. Owing to the potential for nasty accidents when objects kept flying across the room, Professor Flitwick had given each student a stack of cushions on which to practise, the theory being that these wouldn't hurt anyone if they went off target. It was a good theory, but it wasn't working very well. Neville's aim was so poor that he kept accidentally sending much heavier things flying across the room — Professor Flitwick, for instance.
"But—Ara, you said you would help him!" scolded Hermione.
"I did help him!" Ara protested.
"Throwing the egg across the common room isn't exactly helping!"
"Just forget the egg for a minute, all right?" Harry hissed as Professor Flitwick went whizzing resignedly past them, landing on top of a large cabinet. "We're trying to tell you about Snape and Moody. . . ."
This class was an ideal cover for a private conversation, as everyone was having far too much fun to pay them any attention. Ara and Harry had been recounting their adventures of the previous night in whispered instalments for the last half hour.
"Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?" Ron whispered, his eyes alight with interest as he Banished a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it soared into the air and knocked Parvati's hat off).
"What . . . d'you reckon Moody's here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?"
"Well, I dunno if that's what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he's definitely doing it," said Harry, waving his wand without paying much attention, so that his cushion did an odd sort of belly flop off the desk. "Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he's giving him a second chance or something. . . ."
"What?" said Ron, his eyes widening, his next cushion spinning high into the air, ricocheting off the chandelier, and dropping heavily onto Flitwick's desk. "Harry . . . maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!"
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head sceptically, "we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?"
She banished a cushion and it flew across the room and landed in the box they were all supposed to be aiming at.
"Listen, I agree with Ron," Ara said and Ron motioned to her as if to say 'see?' "I wouldn't put it past Snape to want to get you killed, he hates you—"
"Then why didn't he do the same to you?" spluttered Hermione, "Ara, he isn't exactly welcoming to you either—"
"Maybe he wants to make me suffer a bit longer," Ara rolled her eyes as she levitated her cushion above Ron's head before making it fall on his face. He glared at her. "Besides. . .Snape might not just only be an insufferable teacher."
"Meaning?" sighed Hermione.
"I think he's a Death Eater," Ara said quietly, and the three gaped at her in disbelief. "What? It's not that hard to believe, I mean we've never seen his left forearm, and last night he grabbed onto it as if on instinct."
"I mean he's always been dodgy," Ron shrugged, uncertain, "but—"
"Ara, that's a really big and serious accusation!" Hermione shook her head. "I don't think Dumbledore would have hired a Death Eater as a teacher."
"That's exactly what he said—" Ara pointed at Harry. "—But didn't we just say that Moody said something about a second chance? Maybe that's it." Harry, Hermione and Ron stayed silent, clearly not really agreeing with her. "Fine, don't believe me."
"I don't care what Moody says," Hermione went on. "Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit —"
"— evil," said Ron promptly. "Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his office, then?"
"Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?" said Hermione, ignoring Ron. "It's a bit funny, isn't it, that he can't manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?"
"You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky," said Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the window.
"You just want to think Snape's up to something," said Hermione, sending her cushion zooming neatly into the box.
"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance if he's on his second one," said Harry grimly, and his cushion, to his very great surprise, flew straight across the room and landed neatly on top of Hermione's.
"Death Eater," mumbled Ara stubbornly to herself as she made her cushion land on top of Harry's.
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TAKING NOTE OF SIRIUS' WISH OF HEARING ABOUT anything odd at Hogwarts, Ara and Harry wrote a letter together and sent it along by brown owl that night, explaining all about Mr. Crouch breaking into Snape's office, and Moody and Snape's conversation.
Ara's hand had been itching to write a separate letter explaining to him all about Atlas Auclair, the magic and her head issues but she'd stopped herself.
Soon enough, she repeated in her mind, not now. . .
She had other things to worry about, like how she, Harry, Hermione and Ron would find something to help Harry survive underwater for an hour on the twenty-fourth of February.
Ara had suggested searching for a potion but the only one she'd found would take them months to brew. She'd briefly passed across Scuba-Spells, but they were so complex that she was sure they wouldn't be able to get Harry to master it in such little time. She'd already flickered through a dozen books and neither had provided good or doable options.
Ron quite liked the idea of using the Summoning Charm again, he couldn't see why Harry shouldn't Summon Aqua-Lungs, which Harry had explained were Muggle artefacts which could give you air underwater, from the nearest Muggle town. Hermione squashed this plan by pointing out that he was sure to be disqualified for breaking the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy — it was too much to hope that no Muggles would spot an Aqua-Lung zooming across the countryside to Hogwarts.
"Of course, the ideal solution would be for you to Transfigure yourself into a submarine or something," Hermione said. "If only we'd done human Transfiguration already! But I don't think we start that until sixth year, and it can go badly wrong if you don't know what you're doing. . . ."
"Yeah, I don't fancy walking around with a periscope sticking out of my head," said Harry. "I s'pose I could always attack someone in front of Moody; he might do it for me. . . ."
"I don't think he'd let you choose what you wanted to be turned into, though," said Hermione seriously. "No, I think your best chance is some sort of charm."
"Ugh, it would be so much easier if you were a metamorphmagus," Ara sighed as she snapped another book shut.
"A meta—what?" Harry said, baffled.
"A metamorphmagus, it's a wizard or witch who has the ability to change their physical appearance according to will, you wouldn't have to use Polyjuice potion or a spell like the rest of the magical population, and you'd be able to change into anything," Ara explained distractedly, as she fetched another book from the shelf and started flipping the pages, searching for something remotely useful.
"Oh," Harry said. He found it fascinating how she was able to store so much information in her head.
The quartet buried themselves once more among the dusty volumes, looking for any spell that might enable a human to survive without oxygen. However, though they searched through their lunchtimes, evenings, and whole weekends — though Ara charmingly asked Professor McGonagall for a note of permission to use the Restricted Section, and Harry even asked the irritable, vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, for help — they found nothing whatsoever that would enable Harry to spend an hour underwater and live to tell the tale.
Ara could spot Harry's eyes becoming unfocused in almost every class they attended, no doubt thinking and dreading the day of the second task. She could see him stare out the window and at the lake whenever there was a slight visibility of it, his expression haunted. She despised the fact that no matter what she did or what she said to take his mind off the upcoming challenge, he would remain extremely anxious.
She couldn't blame him, the days were blurring together and the second task was approaching faster than ever before and they had still not found a solution. Ara momentarily wondered if a random wolf attacking one—or several—of the judges would be enough reason to delay the task but she reluctantly got rid of the idea.
With two days left, Harry started to go off food again. The only good thing about breakfast on Monday was the return of the brown owl they'd sent to Sirius. Ara pulled off the parchment, unrolled it, and she and Harry, who was reading over her shoulder, saw the shortest letter Sirius had ever written to them.
Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.
Ara turned the parchment over and looked at the back, hoping to see something else, but it was blank.
"Weekend after next," whispered Hermione, who had peaked at the parchment. "Here — take my quill and send this owl back straight away."
Harry scribbled the dates down on the back of Sirius's letter, tied it onto the brown owl's leg, and watched it take flight again.
Harry's face had fallen in disappointment, no doubt that he'd hoped Sirius had given advice on how to survive underwater but they'd been so caught up in Moddy and Snape while writing the letter that they'd forgotten to tell Sirius about the egg clue. Ara placed a hand on his shoulder in support, offering a small smile of encouragement.
But they would find a solution, they had to.
"What's he want to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend for?" said Ron.
"Dunno," said Harry dully. The momentary happiness that had flared inside him at the sight of the owl had died.
"Maybe he wants to talk to us or something, face-to-face hopefully," muttered Ara, slightly put out at the fact that the letter had been so short but she supposed these matters were better discussed in person.
"Come on . . .Care of Magical Creatures," Harry sighed.
Ara, Ron and Hermione shared looks, equally as worried about the rising issues and pressure of helping their friend.
Whether Hagrid was trying to make up for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, or because there were now only two skrewts left, or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could, Ara didn't know, but Hagrid had been continuing her lessons on unicorns ever since he'd returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing.
Today he had managed to capture two unicorn foals. Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold. Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them, and even Pansy Parkinson had to work hard to conceal how much she liked them.
"Easier ter spot than the adults," Hagrid told the class. "They turn silver when they're abou' two years old, an' they grow horns at aroun' four. Don' go pure white till they're full grown, 'round about seven. They're a bit more trustin' when they're babies . . . don' mind boys so much. . . . C'mon, move in a bit, yeh can pat 'em if yeh want . . . give 'em a few o' these sugar lumps. . . .
"You okay, Harry?" Hagrid muttered, moving aside slightly, while most of the others swarmed around the baby unicorns.
"Yeah," said Harry.
"Jus' nervous, eh?" said Hagrid.
"Bit," said Harry.
"Harry," said Hagrid, clapping a massive hand on his shoulder, so that Harry's knees buckled under its weight, "I'd've bin worried before I saw yeh take on tha' Horntail, but I know now yeh can do anythin' yeh set yer mind ter. I'm not worried at all. Yeh're goin' ter be fine. Got yer clue worked out, haven' yeh?"
Harry nodded, but even as he did so, an insane urge to confess that he didn't have any idea how to survive at the bottom of the lake for an hour came over him. He looked up at Hagrid — perhaps he had to go into the lake sometimes, to deal with the creatures in it? He looked after everything else on the grounds, after all —
"Yeh're goin' ter win," Hagrid growled, patting Harry's shoulder again, so that Harry actually felt himself sink a couple of inches into the soft ground. "I know it. I can feel it. Yeh're goin' ter win, Harry."
Harry just couldn't bring himself to wipe the happy, confident smile off Hagrid's face. Pretending he was interested in the young unicorns, he forced a smile in return, and moved forward to pat them with the others.
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BY THE EVENING BEFORE THE SECOND TASK, THE STRESS HAD DOUBLED. Ara was aware that even if they found something, such as a spell that wasn't so complex, the chances of Harry mastering it overnight were slim. She scratched her temples, slightly massaging the skin as her eyes became blurry, exhausted from reading so many words. The letters were starting to blend together and her headache was becoming more persistent but she was determined to find something.
Harry felt as though he were trapped in a nightmare. How could he have let this happen? Why hadn't he got to work on the egg's clue sooner? Why had he ever let his mind wander in class — what if a teacher had once mentioned how to breathe underwater?
He, Ara, Hermione, and Ron were in the library as the sun set outside, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, hidden from one another by the massive piles of books on the desk in front of each of them. Harry's heart gave a huge leap every time he saw the word "water" on a page, but more often than not it was merely "Take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt . . ."
"I don't reckon it can be done," said Ron's voice flatly from the other side of the table. "There's nothing. Nothing. Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Ara practically yelled as she slammed a book on the table angrily, startling her three friends. Normally, the quiet rule of the library was one of the only ones she followed without complaint, but her frustration got the better of her.
"Miss Black!" hissed the Librarian angrily.
"Sorry," said Ara sheepishly, as she rubbed her eyelids, seeing purple and blue swirls.
The librarian turned around again, muttering something along the lines, "Mother's temper."
"There must be something," Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired she was poring over the tiny print of Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes with her nose about an inch from the page. "They'd never have set a task that was undoable."
"They have," said Ron. "Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate."
"There's a way of doing it!" Hermione said crossly. "There just has to be!"
She seemed to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.
"I've been thinking, what if we use a plant? I'm sure there are some that can help you breathe underwater," Ara looked at Harry, her eyes half-closed. This was the last shred of hope she was clinging onto. "We just have to find the right book, or maybe even ask Neville or something! He's good at herbology."
"That could work," Hermione said thoughtfully. "But I've never read of something like that. . ."
"I know what I should have done," said Harry, resting his cheek on Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts. "I should've learned to be an Animagus like you, Ara."
"Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!" said Ron.
"Or a frog," yawned Harry. He was exhausted.
"You have to remember that you can't choose what animal you want to transform into," Ara reminded them as she brushed away a lock of hair that had gotten into Harry's eye, making his stomach flutter.
"It takes some time to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything," said Hermione vaguely, now squinting down the index of Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. "Professor McGonagall told us, remember . . . you've got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office . . .what animal you become, and your markings, so you can't abuse it. . . ."
"Yeah, it took me around seven months or so. . . " Ara tiredly ran a hand through her hair, "and I should've registered but, well, I didn't find the time—"
"You didn't register yourself because you didn't want to," Hermione raised an accusatory eyebrow.
Ara shrugged, hugging her jacket closer as she yawned.
"What would happen if the Ministry found out?" asked Harry.
"No idea," suddenly a bitter smile grew on Ara's face, "maybe it'd finally be the perfect excuse to send me to Azkaban, I guess it's just in the Black genes to end up there."
"Oh this is no use," Hermione said, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"
"I wouldn't mind," said Fred's voice. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"
Ara, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves.
"Freddie, Georgie, to what do we owe the displeasure," said Ara teasingly.
"You wound us, sister," Fred and George brushed away their fake tears.
"Anyway, Looking for you," said George after he and George composed themselves. "McGonagall wants you, Ria. And you, Hermione."
"Why?" said Hermione, looking surprised.
"Dunno . . . she was looking a bit grim, though," said Fred.
"We're supposed to take you down to her office," said George.
"Is it because of the dungbombs in Filch's office? Because I already discussed that with her," said Ara as she twirled her ring.
"She didn't say anything about that," said Fred, he threw her a playful scowl, "but you should've invited us for that."
Ara bounced her eyebrows before she and Hermione stared at Harry, who felt his stomach drop. Was Professor McGonagall about to tell Ara and Hermione off? Perhaps she'd noticed how much they were helping him, when he ought to be working out how to do the task alone? But then why didn't he summon Ron as well?
"We'll meet you back in the common room," Hermione told Harry as she got up, looking very anxious. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"
"Right," said Harry uneasily.
Ara threw Harry a reassuring smile as she rose from her chair, her eyes gentle, "We'll figure it out, okay? Don't worry. We'll be back soon,"
Something inside Harry was screaming at him to grab her wrist to prevent her from leaving and keeping her there with him. There was an unusual feeling of doubt from her words. We'll be back soon, for some reason, Harry didn't trust her promise as much as he usually did. Nonetheless, he forced himself to give her a nod and something in his chest felt heavy when he saw her and Hermione walk away.
By eight o'clock, Madam Pince had extinguished all the lamps and came to chivvy Harry and Ron out of the library. Staggering under the weight of as many books as they could carry, they returned to the Gryffindor common room, pulled a table into a corner, and continued to search. There was nothing in Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks . . . nothing in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery . . . not one mention of underwater exploits in An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms, or in Dreadful Denizens of the Deep, or Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do with Them Now You've Wised Up.
Ron soon fell asleep on one of the armchairs and he started snoozing soundly as he still had one of the many books they'd brought back open on his chest. Venus had made her way over to Harry and had crawled into his lap and curled up, purring deeply; it was an annoying reminder that Ara hadn't come back but he gave her a few head scratches nonetheless.
The common room emptied slowly. People kept wishing Harry luck for the next morning in cheery, confident voices like Hagrid's, all of them apparently convinced that he was about to pull off another stunning performance. Harry couldn't answer them, he just nodded, feeling as though there were a golf ball stuck in his throat. By ten to midnight, he was alone in the room, well, not completely considering that Ron was still in the armchair, snoring, and Venus was still snuggled against him. He had searched all the remaining books, and Ara and Hermione had not come back.
It's over, he told himself. You can't do it. You'll just have to go down to the lake in the morning and tell the judges. . . .
He imagined himself explaining that he couldn't do the task. He pictured Bagman's look of round-eyed surprise, Karkaroff's satisfied, yellow-toothed smile. He could almost hear Fleur Delacour saying "I knew it . . . 'e is too young, 'e is only a little boy." He saw Malfoy flashing his POTTER STINKS badge at the front of the crowd, saw Hagrid's crestfallen, disbelieving face. . . He saw Ara's disappointed expression. . .
Forgetting that Venus was on his lap, Harry stood up very suddenly; Venus hissed angrily as she landed on the floor, gave Harry a disgusted look, and stalked away, but Harry was already hurrying up the spiral staircase to his dormitory. . . . He would grab the Invisibility Cloak and go back to the library, he'd stay there all night if he had to. . . .
"Lumos," Harry whispered fifteen minutes later as he opened the library door.
Wand tip alight, he crept along the bookshelves, pulling down more books — books of hexes and charms, books on merpeople and water monsters, books on famous witches and wizards, on magical inventions, on anything at all that might include one passing reference to underwater survival. He carried them over to a table, then set to work, searching them by the narrow beam of his wand, occasionally checking his watch. . . .
One in the morning . . . two in the morning . . . the only way he could keep going was to tell himself, over and over again, the next book . . . in the next one . . . the next one . . .
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THE MERMAID IN THE PAINTING IN THE prefects' bathroom was laughing. Harry was bobbing like a cork in bubbly water next to her rock, while she held his Firebolt over his head.
"Come and get it!" she giggled maliciously. "Come on, jump!"
"I can't," Harry panted, snatching at the Firebolt, and struggling not to sink. "Give it to me!"
But she just poked him painfully in the side with the end of the broomstick, laughing at him.
"That hurts — get off — ouch —"
"Harry Potter must wake up, sir!"
"Stop poking me —"
"Dobby must poke Harry Potter, sir, he must wake up!"
Harry opened his eyes. He was still in the library; the Invisibility Cloak had slipped off his head as he'd slept, and the side of his face was stuck to the pages of Where There's a Wand, There's a Way. He sat up, straightening his glasses, blinking in the bright daylight.
"Harry Potter needs to hurry!" squeaked Dobby. "The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter —"
"Ten minutes?" Harry croaked. "Ten — ten minutes?"
He looked down at his watch. Dobby was right. It was twenty past nine. A large, dead weight seemed to fall through Harry's chest into his stomach.
"Hurry, Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, plucking at Harry's sleeve. "You is supposed to be down by the lake with the other champions, sir!"
"It's too late, Dobby," Harry said hopelessly. "I'm not doing the task, I don't know how —"
"Harry Potter will do the task!" squeaked the elf. "Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!"
"What?" said Harry. "But you don't know what the second task is —"
"Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Nyx —"
"Find my what?"
"— and take his Nyx back from the merpeople!"
"Nyx—?" Harry gasped, straightening up instantly. "They've got . . . they've got Ara?"
"The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!" squeaked Dobby. " 'But past an hour —' "
"— 'the prospect's black,' " Harry recited, staring, horror-struck, at the elf. " 'Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.' Dobby — what've I got to do?"
"You has to eat this, sir!" squeaked the elf, and he put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a ball of what looked like slimy, greyish-green rat tails. "Right before you go into the lake, sir — gillyweed!"
"What's it do?" said Harry, staring at the gillyweed.
"It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!"
"Dobby," said Harry frantically, "listen — are you sure about this?"
He couldn't quite forget that the last time Dobby had tried to "help" him, he had ended up with no bones in his right arm.
"Dobby is quite sure, sir!" said the elf earnestly. "Dobby hears things, sir, he is a house-elf, he goes all over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the floors. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staffroom, talking about the next task. . . . Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Nyx!"
Harry's doubts vanished. Jumping to his feet he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffed it into his bag, grabbed the gillyweed, and put it into his pocket, then tore out of the library with Dobby at his heels.
"Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!" Dobby squealed as they burst into the corridor. "Dobby will be missed — good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!"
"See you later, Dobby!" Harry shouted, and he sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs, three at a time as his heart pounded from the thought of Ara being anywhere in that cold and dark lake.
The entrance hall contained a few last-minute stragglers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to watch the second task. They stared as Harry flashed past, sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as he leapt down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds.
As he pounded down the lawn he saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Harry ran flat-out around the other side of the lake toward the judges, who were sitting at another gold-draped table at the water's edge. Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were beside the judges' table, watching Harry sprint toward them.
"I'm . . . here . . ." Harry panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleur's robes.
"Where were you? When I woke up you weren't there." hissed Ron, who suddenly appeared at his side. "And have you seen Ara and Hermione? I can't find them anywhere. Honestly I'm starting to think they've been kidnapped."
"I—"
"Where have you been?" said a bossy, disapproving voice. "The task's about to start! And Ron, you can't be here!"
Harry and Ron looked around. Percy Weasley was sitting at the judges' table — Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up again. Ron scowled but he didn't move.
"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry. "Let him catch his breath!"
Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him. . . . It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up.
Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath; he had a stitch in his side that felt as though he had a knife between his ribs, but there was no time to get rid of it; Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was on the very end of the line, next to Krum, who was wearing swimming trunks and was holding his wand ready.
"All right, Harry?" Bagman whispered as he moved Harry a few feet farther away from Krum. "Know what you're going to do?"
"Yeah," Harry panted, massaging his ribs.
"You do?" asked Ron in disbelief, Harry could only nod breathlessly. "Well good luck, mate, and don't drown, please, I'll see if I can find the girls," He patted Harry's back encouragingly and walked away from him, but not before throwing Percy a glare in passing.
Bagman gave Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze and returned to the judges' table; he pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.
"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then.One . . . two . . . three!"
The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake.
It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water. His sodden robes weighed him down as he walked deeper; now the water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen.
He could hear laughter in the crowd and knew he must look stupid, walking into the lake without showing any sign of magical power. The part of him that was still dry was covered in goose pimples; half immersed in the icy water, a cruel breeze lifting his hair, Harry started to shiver violently. He avoided looking at the stands; the laughter was becoming louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the Slytherins. . . .
Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck —
Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air. . . . He had gills. Without pausing to think, he did the only thing that made sense — he flung himself forward into the water.
The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet — they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too: It looked as though he had sprouted flippers.
The water didn't feel icy anymore either . . . on the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light. . . . Harry struck out once more, marvelling at how far and fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the water, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no longer seemed to need to blink. He had soon swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths.
Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape. He could only see ten feet around him, so that as he sped through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the oncoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily grey-lit water around him to the shadows beyond, where the water became opaque.
Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, Ara — nor, thankfully, the giant squid.
Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom . . . and then, without warning, something grabbed hold of his ankle.
Harry twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around Harry's leg, its pointed fangs bared —Harry stuck his webbed hand quickly inside his robes and fumbled for his wand. By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of Harry's robes, and were attempting to drag him down.
"Relashio!" Harry shouted, except that no sound came out. . . . A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. Harry pulled his ankle out of the grindylows grip and swam, as fast as he could, occasionally sending more jets of hot water over his shoulder at random.
Harry slowed down a little, slipped his wand back inside his robes, and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was moving but the rippling weed.
"How are you getting on?"
Harry thought he was having a heart attack. He whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of him, gazing at him through her thick, pearly glasses.
"Myrtle!" Harry tried to shout — but once again, nothing came out of his mouth but a very large bubble. Moaning Myrtle actually giggled.
"You want to try over there!" she said, pointing. "I won't come with you. . . . I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close. . . ."
Harry gave her the thumbs-up to show his thanks and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher over the weed to avoid any more grindylows that might be lurking there.
He swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. He was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. Then, at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting mersong.
"An hour long you'll have to look, And to recover what we took . . ."
Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam past the rock, following the mersong.
". . . your time's half gone, so tarry not Lest what you seek stays here to rot. . . ."
A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces . . . faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the mermaid in the prefects' bathroom. . . .
The merpeople had greyish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fishtails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.
Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another. Harry sped around a corner and a very strange sight met his eyes.
A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson
Ara was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour's sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.
Harry sped toward them, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. For a fleeting second, he thought of the knife Sirius had bought him for Christmas — locked in his trunk in the castle a quarter of a mile away, no use to him whatsoever.
He swam towards Ara, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern as he cupped her face, feeling how icy and cold her skin felt. Her hair was floating above her quite creepily and Harry couldn't contain the small and slightly amused smile as he thought about how horrified she'd be at the state of her hair.
Her lips were a little bit blue only adding to Harry's worry of her being too cold. He knew how much she hated being chilly, she still had her leather jacket on but he doubted that helped anything.
"Nyx?" he tried to speak but the only thing that escaped his mouth were a few bubbles.
He hadn't expected her to answer either, she seemed to be in the deepest sleep of her life. She almost looked dead from how pale her skin was and so Harry—in a momentary state of distress—placed one of his fingers against the pulse of her neck, his shoulders dropping in relief when he felt a steady rhythm.
He looked around. Many of the merpeople surrounding them were carrying spears. He swam swiftly toward a seven-foot-tall merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark fangs and tried to mime a request to borrow the spear. The merman laughed and shook his head.
"We do not help," he said in a harsh, croaky voice.
"Come ON !" Harry said fiercely (but only bubbles issued from his mouth), and he tried to pull the spear away from the merman, but the merman yanked it back, still shaking his head and laughing.
Harry swirled around, staring about. Something sharp . . . anything . . .
There were rocks littering the lake bottom. He dived and snatched up a particularly jagged one and returned to the statue. He began to hack at the ropes binding Ara, and after several minutes' hard work, they broke apart. Ara floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water.
Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. What were they playing at? Why didn't they hurry up? He turned back to Hermione, raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at her bindings too —
At once, several pairs of strong grey hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.
"You take your own hostage," one of them said to him. "Leave the others . . ."
"No way!" said Harry furiously — but only two large bubbles came out.
"Your task is to retrieve your own friend . . . leave the others . . ."
"She's my friend too!" Harry yelled, gesturing toward Hermione, an enormous silver bubble emerging soundlessly from his lips. "And I don't want them to die either!"
Cho's head was on Hermione's shoulder; the small silver-haired girl was ghostly green and pale. Harry struggled to fight off the mermen, but they laughed harder than ever, holding him back. Harry looked wildly around. Where were the other champions? Would he have time to take Ara to the surface and come back down for Hermione and the others? Would he be able to find them again?
But then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly over his head. Harry looked up and saw Cedric swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around his head, which made his features look oddly wide and stretched.
"Got lost!" he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. "Fleur and Krum are coming now!"
Feeling enormously relieved, Harry watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight.
Harry looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour. . . .
The merpeople started screeching animatedly. Those holding Harry loosened their grip, staring behind them. Harry turned and saw something monstrous cutting through the water toward them:a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark. . . . It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself — but badly.
The shark-man swam straight to Hermione and began snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that Krum's new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and Harry was quite sure that if Krum wasn't careful, he was going to rip Hermione in half. Darting forward, Harry hit Krum hard on the shoulder and held up the jagged stone. Krum seized it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he grabbed Hermione around the waist, and without a backward glance, began to rise rapidly with her toward the surface.
Now what? Harry thought desperately. If he could be sure that Fleur was coming. . . . But still no sign. There was nothing to be one except . . .
He snatched up the stone, which Krum had dropped, but the mermen now closed in around Ara and the little girl, shaking their heads at him. Harry pulled out his wand.
"Get out of the way!"
Only bubbles flew out of his mouth, but he had the distinct impression that the mermen had understood him, because they suddenly stopped laughing. Their yellowish eyes were fixed upon Harry's wand, and they looked scared. There might be a lot more of them than there were of him, but Harry could tell, by the looks on their faces, that they knew no more magic than the giant squid did.
"You've got until three!" Harry shouted; a great stream of bubbles burst from him, but he held up three fingers to make sure they got the message. "One . . ." (he put down a finger) "two . . ." (he put down a second one) —
They scattered. Harry darted forward and began to hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, and at last, she was free. He seized the little girl around the wrist, sneaked his other arm around Ara's waist, and kicked off from the bottom.
It was very slow work. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously. . . . He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark. . . .
Merpeople were rising with him. He could see them swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle through the water. . . . Would they pull him back down to the depths when the time was up? Did they perhaps eat humans? Harry's legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching terribly with the effort of dragging Ara and the girl. . . .
He was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again . . . he was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in his mouth . . . yet the darkness was definitely thinning now . . . he could see daylight above him. . . .
He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet . . . water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs . . . he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only ten feet above him . . . he had to get there . . . he had to . . .
Harry kicked his legs so hard and fast it felt as though his muscles were screaming in protest; his very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn't breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not stop —
The first thing Ara felt as her head broke the surface of the lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making her wet face sting; she gulped it down, feeling as though she had never breathed properly before, and panting as well. She brushed back the damp hair covering her eyes and frantically looked around, instantly noticing the little girl splashing beside her, and taking note of her not being a great swimmer, Ara made her way over and held her up so she wouldn't drown.
"Nyx!"
Ara's nack wiped around, a smile breaking as she caught sight of him, "Harry!" She didn't have the faintest idea of how he'd managed to breathe underwater but that was the least of her concerns as she scanned whatever she could see of him, thanking Merlin at the fact that he wasn't injured.
Harry returned her smile as he swam closer and he grabbed a hold of her arm.
"Why did you bring her too?" asked Ara quietly, making sure the girl that she was holding couldn't hear.
"Fleur didn't turn up, I couldn't leave her," Harry panted, shaking his head.
"Harry," said Ara, amused, "you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? They wouldn't have let any of us drown!"
"The song said —"
"It was only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!" said Ara as she let out a chuckle.
Harry felt both stupid and annoyed, however there was some part in him that was practically skipping with happiness, because Ara was there, without a single scratch, and that's all he could've asked for.
"C'mon," said Ara, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, "help me with her, I don't think she can swim very well."
They pulled Fleur's sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honour, singing their horrible screechy songs.
They could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets.
Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry from the bank as he, Ara and Fleur's sister swam nearer. Meanwhile, Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.
"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"
"She's fine!" Harry tried to tell her, but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout.
Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright; Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister.
"Thanks for the help," Ara grumbled sarcastically at the men as she pulled herself up, Harry had offered her a hand.
"It was ze grindylows . . . zey attacked me . . . oh Gabrielle, I thought . . . I thought . . ."
"Come here, you," said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Ara and Harry and pulled them over to Hermione and the others, wrapping them so tightly in a blanket that they felt as though they were in a straitjacket.
"Ria! So that's where you were, you stupid idiot," Ron grabbed his sister by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug, apparently not caring about the fact that he was getting wet. "Thought you'd gotten kidnapped."
Ara shivered and Ron slightly rubbed her arms for a moment, "you know you can't get rid of me, Ronnie, I always come back." Ron rolled his eyes as he went to hug and congratulate Harry, boasting about the fact that he'd made it.
Ara and Hermione approached each other with mirroring grins and embraced, trembling against each other from the cold and huddling together after they broke apart.
"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried from where she was snuggled up against Ara, who was blowing air into her hands. "You did it, you found out all by yourself!"
"Well —" said Harry. He would have told her about Dobby, but he had just noticed Karkaroff watching him. He was the only judge who had not left the table; the only judge not showing signs of pleasure and relief that Harry, Ara, and Fleur's sister had got back safely. "Yeah, that's right," said Harry, raising his voice slightly so that Karkaroff could hear him.
"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," said Krum. Perhaps Krum was trying to draw her attention back onto himself, but Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry. . . . Did it take you ages to find us?"
"No . . . I found you okay. . . ."
Harry's feeling of stupidity was growing. Now he was out of the water, it seemed perfectly clear that Dumbledore's safety precautions wouldn't have permitted the death of a hostage just because their champion hadn't turned up. Why hadn't he just grabbed Ara and gone? He would have been first back. . . . Cedric and Krum hadn't wasted time worrying about anyone else; they hadn't taken the mersong seriously. . . .
As if he'd sensed his clear distress, Ara made her way over to him and laced their fingers together as she squeezed and suddenly Harry's face felt so hot that he wouldn't be surprised if his ears started to expulse steam. He hesitantly glanced down at her and his heart slowed, staring at her wet eyelashes and freckled cheeks, he gave her a smile, which she immediately returned.
Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally, he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."
The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey got closer to Ara and fussed over the girl; she gave her an extra blanket and some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.
"Look after Gabrielle," she told her, and then she turned to Harry. "You saved 'er," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."
"Yeah," said Harry, who was now heartily wishing he'd left all three remaining girls tied to the statue.
Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek, then said to Ara, "And you too — you 'elped —"
"Well not much really," Ara said modestly.
But Fleur didn't seem to listen as she swooped down on her too and kissed her on the edge of her lips. Harry turned to stare at Fleur warningly, but just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchief tainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows. . . .
"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."
Applause from the stands.
"I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.
"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour." Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Ara saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. "We therefore award him forty-seven points."
Harry's heart sank. If Cedric had been outside the time limit, he most certainly had been.
"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."
Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.
"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."
Ara, Ron, and Hermione gave Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.
"Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However . . . Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."
Harry's stomach leapt — he was now tying for first place with Cedric. Ara, Ron, and Hermione, caught by surprise, stared at Harry, then laughed and started applauding hard with the rest of the crowd.
"There you go, Harry!" Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all — you were showing moral fibre!"
Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn't look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering Harry to listen. Ara had started to shake Harry's shoulder excitedly, a huge beaming smile could be seen on her face.
"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."
It was over, Harry thought dazedly, as Madam Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes . . . it was over, he had got through . . . he didn't have to worry about anything now until June the twenty-fourth. . . .
Next time he was in Hogsmeade, Harry decided as he walked back up the stone steps into the castle, that he was going to buy Dobby a pair of socks for every day of the year.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾
HEYYYYYYYYY
Ara being the one Harry would miss most is no surprise to anyone haha.
I hope you guys liked this chapter!!! Let me know your thoughts!
qotd: name a song you just recently discovered but love. Mine: Somebody Like You by Giant Rooks!
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See you soon lovelies <33