Chapter 13 The second task

The stands normally around the Quidditch pitch were arrayed along the banks of the lake and they were as packed now as they had been during the first task in November. For the first time, Harry realized just how high the stands were as the mirror-like surface of the lake projected hundreds of reflections. The excited babble of the crowd had resumed after Dumbledore's announcement. The judges were seated around another gold draped table on the water's edge. To Harry complete lack of surprise, Mr. Crouch who had been ill during the first task was missing and Umbridge was occupying his place and delighted in giving Harry what he assumed to be a special look of loathing reserved just for him.

Ludo Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and said "Sonorus!" his voice boomed across the lake towards the stands, "Our four champions are ready, and will have one hour to recover what has been taken from them. From the count! Three, Two, One!" the whistle echoed shrilly in the cold air coming off the lake and the stands erupted with cheers as the champions, spread out in a rough line three meters from each made to the water's edge. Harry was again clad in Basilisk hide armor, but had eschewed the cloak for this task. He had decided before hand to go with the Gillyweed, and cast the bubblehead charm only if it was necessary. However, if that became necessary, he would have failed the task.

He stuffed the rubbery plant in to his mouth, chewing what felt like slimy rat rails or octopus tentacles. The water was cold but the armor's own warming charms negated most of the cold on his feet and hands. They were going to go numb, very soon he realized. He cast his eyes ones over the stands, ignoring the laughter, jeering and cats calls from the Slytherins.

He had read up on the effects of Gillyweed and when it suddenly felt like an invisible pillow had been clamped over his face, he took a last breath, exhaled all the air from his lungs. There was a piercing pain in the sides of his neck, just above the gorget of the armor. He dived. He took his first breath underwater and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen racing through his body. His hands were webbed, and a quick glance down confirmed that his feet looked more like flippers.

The water felt light and cool and he struck out with hands and feet, gliding through the water like a missile. He no longer needed to blink as he swam out towards the center of the lake and drew his wand. An incantation later, the small glowing ball of light on the end of his wand, leapt from his wand and he followed the wisp, however unwillingly towards Ronald Weasely.

It was a surreal, almost dreamlike experience as he swam over the strange landscape. He could only see about ten feet around him, and kept his wand at the ready as he sped through different watery scenes like a picture book. The shadows of the water were gray-lit and small silver fish flickered past him like silver darts. Where were the other champions? He wondered as something… large moved ahead. Hopefully, that was a log, and not the Giant Squid.

Light green weed stretched as far as he could see, like an overgrown lawn when a second wisp crossed paths with his own. Where his was a reddish color, this one was a deep blue that bordered on purple. He looked to his left: Victor. The Bulgarian seeker waved once to Harry. Well, that was the big thing moving around.

Victor had eschewed both Gillyweed and the bubblehead charm in favor of some kind of partial human transfiguration. Part shark, Harry realized as the champion cut across him, no doubt towards Siobhan. He wished Victor the best of luck, as the pair parted ways. So where were Fleur and Cedric? From within the weeds, something grabbed on to his ankle.

Twisting round, Harry found a Grindlylow. A small horned water demon with its long fingers coiled tight around his ankle. He pointed his wand as another pair grabbed on to his other foot, "Stupefy! Stupefy! Relashio!" three large bubbles erupted from his mouth, no sound but the pair of stunners found their mark and instead of sparks, Harry's spell boiled the water and sent a jet of it, in an every widening cone that burned the deep green skin of the water demon an angry splotchy red.

It floated away slightly cross-eyed as others crawled out of their burrows and poked their heads up. Harry did not waste any time, turning full circles in the water as he blazed a clear path and followed the homing wisp. The pressure of the water on his eardrums increased as he went deeper, something told him he was almost fifty feet under water as he rounded an outcropping of rock and found Fleur in a fight for her life.

The Grindylows had opted to attack from three sides at once and had almost overwhelmed the Witch. Harry suddenly recalled something he had read in one of the many extra tomes and books lying around the residence: Veela are magical creatures of earth and air. Water would therefore weaken her significantly. The Beauxbatton Champion had been at a severe disadvantage from the start of this task! Harry waded in, his movements rendered slow and sluggish underwater, his spells seemed to be somewhat underpowered as a wave of stunners, banishing charms and a cone of boiling water burned away the attacker on one side. Fleur screamed in rage and the sound seemed to strike something, primal within him as he almost bolted. The Grindylows did not hang about, many of them making a desperate bid towards open water, away from the Veela as she hurled raw elemental power after them, cutting down swatches of the small water demons like grass.

The water took on a brackish hue as blood permeate around the pair, but the fight had gone out of the Grindylows very quickly and the pair of champions were standing alone, surrounded by butchered and blasted corpses in every direction for several meters. Fleur still had a slightly wild look in her eyes as she swam forwards, ignoring the carnage around her, ignoring even Harry as she swam out.

There was suddenly no time, no way to even shout a warning as one of the water demons leapt out and smashed directly in to Fleur's. The claws popped the buddle as it grabbed on to the base of her neck, trying its level best to throttle the life out of her. Even with his webbed feet and hands, Harry would not be able to swim over fast enough. "Diffindo!" If Fleur had jerked, or even moved, it would have ended badly but the curse severed the demon's arms, one just below the elbow, and the other about half way down its forearm. It snarled as it struggled to propel itself clear. Harry obliged the ugly creature with a banishing charm to the head that sent it spinning in to a mud bank.

He recast the charm over the Beauxbatton champion but realized that she was unconscious. He could do precious little for her so far underwater. Reaching in to a pouch on his hip, he looped the goblin medallion around her neck. On the back, was a small dial that he twisted and then pushed clear of the floating witch. He prayed it would be enough as the emergency portkey transported her to the surface. He had a choice: Ron or Gabrielle. It was not a hard choice and if it got him disqualified so much the better. He recalled the wisp and cast a new one.

From the far side of the lake, the direction Victor had gone in was a golden flash, almost invisible in the water. It was good news: Victor had secured his hostage and was making his way to the surface. That left him, and Cedric. He did not have a watch and cursed quietly… no way to tell how much time he had left.

He pushed on, for what felt like at least another twenty minutes, passing over a vast mud bank that swirled murkily around him as he moved through the water until finally, he heard the snatch of haunting mer-song,

"An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took…"

He picked up speed, rounding a large rock that had painted pictures of merpeople using spears to drive off what might have been a not to scale representation of the Giant Squid. He followed the song deeper in,

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

Lest what you seek stays here to rot…"

Algae stained, crude stone dwellings loomed out of the gloom. There were dark glassless windows and faces in almost every single one. None looked like the mermaids he had read about, ever. They were grayish skinned with long wild weed green hair. They had broken teeth, yellowed, matching their eyes and they leered at him as he swam past, many more emerging from caves and dwellings to stare at him. A small group followed him, about ten feet behind, silver spears in their hands. Harry sped around a corner and found himself in what he supposed was the village square. Somewhere in the distance behind him, there was a gold flash. It played across the faces of the gathered merfolk for a moment.

At the center of the square was a statue of a giant merman or woman, and Gabrielle Delacour was bound to the statue, hanging by a length of rope for the tip of the statues tail. He swam forwards, half expecting them to lower their spears and charge but they did not, content to just watch. The moment he tried to cut Gabrielle free of the thick slimy rope, two dragged him back, and several more formed a menacing half circle facing him, "She is not your hostage. The boy is not far. Go. Save your hostage. Leave this one for her champion."

Harry shook his head, "She is a child. She is the youngest hostage. Her champion has been defeated by Grindylows." Even though he spoke normally, only a stream of bubbles emerged from his mouth, it was clear that the mer-chieftain understood everything he was saying. "I made a promise to rescue her. I will keep that promise." Slowly, deliberately, Harry drew his wand. Without a watch, he did not have time to negotiate, "I will give you to the count of three. One!" the merfolk stopped singing and laughing and could only stare in disbelief as the sole wizard prepared to face down half the village.

"Two!" Several of their warriors leveled spears in Harry's direction. The rest scattered in to their homes. Outmatched perhaps, he watched calmly as the mer-chieftain drew a pair of curved scimitar like swords. He aimed his wand at the warrior on his left.

"Three!" The bubble leapt from his mouth. Magic channeled down his wand and the first stunner leapt from the wand tip toward and smashed in to the warrior on the right. The unconscious form flew back several meters and then settled on the lake bottom, his spear settling next to him gently.

The moment of surprise passed and Harry had pushed off the ground with both feet. Suspended in the water he waved his wand in a complicated fashion, creating half dozen mirror images of himself. The illusions were temporary and would dissipate within a minute given the shifting of the water. He needed less time than that, "Diffindo!" A pair of blasting hexes threw up a massive cloud of mud and sand that obscured – he hoped – everyone's vision for a few moments, "Accio Gabrielle's rope!" The summoning charm is to summon an object to the hand of the caster or his immediate vicinity.

The charm summoned the ropes that bound Gabrielle, but also the bound nine-year-old witch in to his outstretched left hand as he rose above the village. He was only able to use his feet to propel the two of them to the surface as he kept his wand at the ready. A detached part of his mind noticed the merfolk shadowing him at a distance. He knew that if they did decide to make an issue of him taking Gabrielle, he would be in no position to stop them. I hope that they just kill me, and not eat me, a part of his brain muttered darkly.

His shoulders were aching and his muscles screamed in protest. He realized that his brain was feeling…waterlogged. The surface was at least twenty feet overhead. He kept kicking, doing his best to resist the urge to breathe. That urge would kill him unless he broke the surface first.

The flippers were gone; all he had left were his feet. The gills would go next he realized. He debated pausing for an instant to cast the bubblehead charm but one of the merfolk flirted across his path. There was a pain in the side of his neck, water in his mouth and his lungs screamed for air as he continued to push upwards.

He broke the surface of the lake, clear air, cold, crisp made his face sting as he gulped for breath. All around him, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of the water with him, but they were smiling at him and when the boat pulled alongside, they helped push the pair aboard before diving beneath the surface once more. Siobhan was wrapped in a towel, cradling a mug of hot chocolate in her hand, Victor whispering something quietly in to her ear. Cedric was sitting as far as possible from a shivering Cho Chang. Madame Pomfrey was pouring out several measures of pepper up potion and Harry sank wearily on to the deck, "Somebody, check Gabrielle over," he said. They would have a few minutes of peace before they reached the lakeside and would have to face the judges with their hostages – or in Harry's case, a lack of one.

The crowd in the stand were making more than enough noise to give Harry the beginnings of a nasty headache. However, he did not care what the spectators thought; he didn't really care what the judges had thought. He may not have played by the rules of the tournament, but the more he thought about it, the more he concluded that he had found a loophole that would allow him to skate through. If it did not - he shrugged indifferently - at least the tournament would be over for him. He just wished he'd get a minute with Hermione without everyone rubbernecking even as Madam Pomfrey continued fussing over all of them, champion and hostage alike. All were wrapped in thick blankets except for Harry, who had refused one. The basilisk armor had kept him warm and apart from his hands, feet and head perfectly dry.

The headmaster stood beaming on the bank of the lake with the rest of the judges a short way off. Madame Maxine was having a tricky time restraining Fleur Delacour, who was doing her best to squelch her rage even as she continued to argue with her headmistress in French, no doubt fighting tooth and nail to return to the water. The boat docked and Harry was the first off, carrying Gabrielle in his arms.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she hurt?"

"She's fine…" Harry told her, at least, he thought he did but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, as he handed the nine-year-old over to her older sister. "It was the Grindylows… they attacked me… oh Gabrielle, I thought… I thought…"

Hermione just hugged him, held him and kissed him gently. He smiled, enjoying the sound of her voice, tuning out the crowd, the judges, everyone and everything else, "You're well outside the time limit, Harry… Did it take you ages to find them?"

"Not, exactly…" he launched in to his story, quietly, and though he was not aware that he had the attention of the other champions, as he explained Fleur's battle with the Grindylows, and the choice he made, "If it gets me disqualified, it gets me disqualified," he shrugged.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief of the merfolk, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking male with his swords sheathed upon his back. The headmaster 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 and walked up to the gathered champions, "Harry, the spectators would like to know," the headmasters' eyes were twinkling as he spoke with a magically enhanced voice, "Perhaps you can explain why you rescued Gabrielle, instead of your best friend?"

Harry took a breath, trying to ignore the sheer stupidity of the question, and failed. "Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry said quietly, "Whether or not Ron is my best friend, friend," he glanced apologetically at the twins and Ginny, standing close by, "acquaintance, or enemy, is none of your concern. I presume the relevant question is why I chose to rescue a different hostage?"

The headmaster nodded cautiously, wondering where exactly Harry was leading him, and his jaw locked with tension. He paused partly for dramatic effect, partly to cast a sonorous charm on himself as he directed his answer to the crowds in the stands, "The clue for the second task stated clearly: "We've taken what you'd sorely miss… but past an hour the prospect's black. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."" Murmurs spread through the gathered onlookers, the judges, his retinue, and even Fleur was curious where he was going with this. He spoke with a self-assured confidence, his tone making it clear he was positive that he had done nothing wrong, "When Ms. Delacour was incapacitated at the bottom of the lake, I was given a choice, to choose what I would miss more. I chose to rescue that which I missed, that which I never had, that which was taken from me the first eleven years of my life." His voice was lighthearted, "I knew I would miss childhood innocence and the happy memories of growing up," his voice turned so cold, the smoke of dry ice would have been warmer, "More than bigoted, fair-weather friends."

That shut everyone up. The crowd stared in silence. They were shocked that anyone would dare take such a tone with the headmaster. What nearly none heard was the accusation and verbal slap to Dumbledore. Harry hated the fact that people thought they knew what he was thinking, that they knew everything about him because of a couple of newspaper articles and some photos.

"A conference before we give the marks, I think." It was all the headmaster could say. Harry shrugged, indifferent and turned to check on his friends. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she did not 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 her," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your hostage." Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek. Hermione simply shrugged. Gabrielle looked on in amazement. Something here brooked looking in to, as far as the nine year old was concerned. After all, whenever her older sister ever kissed a boy, he became a pile of pudding. Not this man… not her champion.

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. Mer-chieftain 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: Champion Delacour of Beauxbattons demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm. Unfortunately, she was attacked by Grindylows, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause from the stands was polite, "I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.

"Champion Diggory of Hogwarts, 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; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a look of jealous longing. She still had feelings for him, even though Cedric was too busy, comforting Fleur with, he noted with a smile, Gabrielle sitting on his knee, "We therefore award him forty-seven points. Champion Krum of Durmstrang 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.

"Champion Potter of Gringotts used Gillyweed to great effect," continued Dumbledore, "He returned last and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, Merchieftan Murcus explained that Harry aided his fellow champion against marauding Grindylows before returning her to the surface using an emergency portkey when she was overwhelmed. Though he failed to rescue his own hostage, he rescued Gabrielle Delacour a hostage which he felt was of greater significance, in accordance with the clue provided for this task of the tournament." Hermione gave Harry a half-exasperated, half-commiserating look. "Most of the judges," and here Dumbledore paused to give Karkaroff and Umbridge a significant sidelong glance, "feel that this was an embodiment and demonstration of the honor, loyalty and courage and merits full marks. However, Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Harry's did the mental arithmetic, and cursed under his breath as 'Mione confirmed his math: He tied for first place with Cedric, instead of getting out of the tournament, now he had to compete in the final task. Next time, he promised himself, Dobby would cook the golden egg and then he would eat the damn thing.

Fleur was clapping very hard. Krum applauded politely but when he managed to catch Harry's eye, the Bulgarian nodded ever so slightly. Harry returned the gesture with a start and realized that with Victor, it was more about what he did than what he said. Harry knew that he could count the Bulgarian amongst his friends.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued the headmaster. "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… He didn't have to worry about anything now until June the twenty-fourth.