Fleur—Well, It’s Not Impossible

The Gryffindors let out gasps of amazement.

Fred and George were the first to curse out loud, protesting the "rigged competition." At first, they hadn't thought much of it—just a bunch of merpeople, nothing Harry couldn't handle.

But judging from Ludo's words, there wasn't supposed to be a group battle against merpeople in this task—this unexpected development was disrupting the Hogwarts champion's rhythm.

This would cost him time!

Ludo wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat down, turning to Dumbledore. "Should we inform the merpeople? Perhaps they could save the jokes for after the competition?"

His expression was growing increasingly uneasy.

Karkaroff jumped at the chance. "Mr. Bagman, I know you favor Potter, but don't forget your role—you're a judge."

"I think you're the last person who should be reminding me," Ludo shot back, uncharacteristically sharp.

Karkaroff scowled. "I've always been fair."

Maxime let out a snort. "That was a rather amusing joke, but I agree—we shouldn't interfere with the natural course of the competition."

"This is the Triwizard Tournament, not some children's game."

"This situation may be unexpected, and Mr. Potter is a bit unlucky. But that's the nature of the Triwizard Tournament—it's always full of surprises. A true champion should fear nothing, face every challenge head-on, and achieve success."

As she spoke, an abrupt change occurred on Fleur's screen.

Veela were not an aquatic species, and the Black Lake was far deeper and more eerie than an ordinary lake. She was struggling underwater.

And now, she was in trouble.

Ludo shot to his feet. "Oh no! Just ten minutes in, our first major crisis!"

"It's Miss Delacour from Beauxbatons!"

"This is terrible—she's been caught by Grindylows! The water demons ambushed her from the lakeweed, grabbing her ankle. Let's see how she handles it!"

"A Stunning Spell!"

"Ah-ha, I'm afraid that wasn't a good choice."

"As expected, the spell missed. Wait… has Miss Delacour not even noticed the Grindylow?"

"While Grindylows are dangerous creatures in the water, they're only covered in third- and fourth-year coursework. This shouldn't be…"

Madame Maxime's face darkened.

Ludo's voice grew more animated. "Miss Delacour's situation is worse than we thought—there's a second Grindylow!"

"Her Bubble-Head Charm has shattered—can she recast it?"

"No, she can't…"

"The Ministry wizards have intervened. Based on their assessment, Miss Delacour is no longer qualified to continue."

"What a pity! It's almost unbelievable—the first champion to be eliminated, and so soon!"

"We can only offer our regrets to Miss Delacour. She's a talented witch, but perhaps luck wasn't on her side."

"Encountering Grindylows… well, they were a planned part of the second task."

The Ravenclaws erupted in cheers, mostly from the girls.

They had disliked Fleur from the start—ever since she arrived, at least twenty couples at Hogwarts had broken up.

Madame Maxime's face was thunderous.

She hadn't even had a chance to laugh at Hogwarts before the tables had turned, and she became the laughingstock instead.

And it was a much bigger joke than Harry getting ambushed by merpeople.

Fleur was quickly rescued by the Ministry wizards. After coughing up some water, she regained consciousness—only to immediately attempt to dive back in.

But she didn't even need the Ministry wizards to stop her—she lacked the strength. Every time she tried to stand, she collapsed back into the mud. After a few futile attempts, she could only clutch her head and cry.

The audience, however, was mostly focused on Harry's screen.

The merpeople had never actually intended to harm Harry—they just wanted to mess with the familiar young wizard a little.

But after just one encounter, they found themselves bound tightly by transfigured lakeweed.

Harry flew to the merperson who had first attacked him and waved his wand to form glowing words in the water: "You good?"

"I'm not good at all," the merperson gritted out.

"How about a little surprise?" Another line of words appeared.

The merperson's expression and voice turned panicked. "What are you doing?"

"Wait, you can't—"

Harry smiled politely and flicked his wand.

"Aguamenti!"

A powerful jet of water erupted beneath the merperson, sending it rocketing to the surface like a geyser.

It let out a shrill, ear-piercing scream.

Dumbledore's face twitched. He understood Mermish and knew exactly what that scream contained—Harry's name, accompanied by several choice curse words beginning with "C" and "F."

Harry continued toward the merpeople's village.

These aquatic beings had a structured society, more so than many humanoid magical creatures. They even had their own civilization.

A proper village stood before him, complete with a "stone mason shop," a "clothing store," and even a pub—though how merpeople drank water while submerged in water was a mystery.

In the village center was a small plaza, featuring a massive merperson statue. It held a thick trident, its face more human-like than merfolk.

Tied to the merpeople's tails were three individuals.

All of them radiated a peaceful magical aura—Dumbledore's enchantments, keeping them safe underwater. The two younger girls even had additional warming charms to protect them from the biting cold.

It was late February, and while the weather was warming, the lake remained frigid.

Harry waved his wand.

A Severing Charm precisely cut through Hermione's bindings. He caught her in his arms and nodded toward the merpeople.

The merperson he had blasted out of the water earlier shuddered as it watched him.

After hesitating, it spat angrily in Harry's direction before scrambling away, disappearing behind a nearby house.

Harry glanced at his wristwatch.

9:55 AM. He still had plenty of time.

By the time he surfaced with Hermione, he was surprised to find that he wasn't the only one back on shore—Fleur had already returned, wrapped in a blanket, sobbing pitifully.

Madam Pomfrey, who had been about to hand them blankets, hesitated, then waved her wand to put them away and instead brought over two cups of hot cocoa.

Ludo was ecstatic, pulling out another Weasley firework. This time, a silver hippogriff soared through the air. "The first champion to successfully retrieve their treasure has emerged!"

"Hogwarts' very own Harry Potter!"

"And in just—"

He glanced at his watch. "Twenty-nine minutes and fifty-two seconds! An astonishing time—he didn't even take half an hour!"

"Far beyond our expectations for the champions, cutting the time limit by more than half."

"And our only remaining champion still in the competition is wandering aimlessly, searching."

Maxime and Karkaroff ground their teeth.

Sitting in the mud, Fleur looked up at Harry. She stumbled to her feet and ran over. "Potter, did you see my sister? Gabrielle, the little girl."

Harry nodded. "Of course. What happened to you? Did you forfeit?"

Fleur clenched her fists, her face full of shame. "I couldn't handle the Grindylows. They dragged me down, and I lost consciousness."

Hermione stared at her in shock.

That was third-year-level content!

"Don't worry, your sister is fine. Dumbledore enchanted her." Harry's voice was calm. "Besides, the one-hour limit is only for us. The Ministry may be dumb, but they wouldn't be stupid enough to use lives as tournament stakes."

Fleur exhaled in relief.

Harry hesitated before amending, "Then again, the Ministry never ceases to surprise me. Who knows—"

Hermione elbowed him. "Harry, don't scare Miss Delacour."

Fleur's face paled. "Harry, can I ask you to retrieve my sister? Even if the Ministry isn't that foolish, it's still dangerous underwater."

Harry studied Fleur, thoughtful.

Hermione sighed, looking resigned.

"Of course, I don't mind," Harry said. "But Miss Delacour, this would count as a commission, wouldn't it?"

Fleur blinked.

"Are you prepared to pay the reward?" Harry asked smoothly.

Fleur gaped at him, then glanced at Hermione—perplexed as to why the usually fiery Gryffindor stood so calmly.

She took a deep breath, bit her lip, and hesitated. "If Miss Granger doesn't mind, then I suppose I—"

Hermione cut her off, deadpan. "You're overthinking it. Harry's probably asking for some Veela materials."

Harry nodded. "That's right. Magical materials from Veela—how about it?"

Fleur stared at him in disbelief.

"What? Is that a problem?" Harry asked patiently. "Is it a psychological thing—like, as a Veela, you feel—"

Fleur interrupted, "No, of course not. Hair, nails, beak—even blood, that's fine."

"Just—hurry up and get my sister."

Harry agreed and turned to Hermione. "Wait for me a moment."

Before the Ministry officials could stop him, he dove back into the lake.

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Powerstones?

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