Harry laid his head against his pillow and clutched his blanket to his face. He was feeling a million emotions at once, most of them contradictory. He was angry, so angry. But he wanted to go back. He was embarrassed and upset. But he wanted to feel it all over again, to be so close to someone so bright.
Draco Malfoy was a destructive force. Harry couldn't pretend he didn't know that, that he hadn't always known that. Draco was an actor and a chameleon. But, oh, wasn't the fire he caused such a beautiful nightmare?
Harry plunged into the water and took a large breath. He looked down at himself and saw that he had grown a sort of flipper, a fin like apparatus. And he could breathe water. A totally normal thing for a human boy to be able to do.
The murky water of the Black Lake surrounded him. Even with the effects of the gillyweed, seeing things clearly was difficult. He wondered how it had gotten this way. He had to stop himself once he got a bit too sidetracked with the horror of mermaid poop.
Mermaids. That's right, he didn't have time to float and contemplate pollution. He had to save his "treasure", whatever it was. Dobby had been rather tight lipped about the whole thing, and what little Harry did understand was broken up by long bouts of Dobby trying to beat himself with Harry's Firebolt.
Harry pushed ahead. He was never much of a swimmer, since the Dursleys would never allow him lessons, but he managed to at least move in a forward direction. He wished he hadn't dismissed Cedric's advice for so long, maybe if he hadn't he could have spent the weeks that passed by learning how to go faster than this. A grindylow grabbed at Harry's toes and he shivered. Grindylows had disgusted him from the moment he learned of their existence. He kicked his feet out and the creature swam away.
There wasn't really any excuse to keep going with this. In fact, there were dozens of reasons that Harry knew would tell him not to if he focused on them for too long. He knew what Hermione, what Ron, would say if they knew how reckless he had been and still he couldn't find it in himself to mind.
It seemed odd to him how little obstacles there were on the way to these treasures- hostages, really. But maybe that meant there was something terrible ahead. Harry had never seen a mermaid, but he very much doubted they would be of the Hans Christian Andersen variety. Or maybe the point of this wasn't to fight anything. The tasks were meant to test courage, resourcefulness, intelligence, and magical ability. He figured stealing an egg from a dragon with a broom counted as resourcefulness and bravery. A real Gryffindor sort of thing to do. Harry pushed a pile of seaweed - could there be seaweed in a lake? He didn't know- out of his way as he came upon the bodies.
He pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed. How could he have let himself end up this way? What enabled a stupid cup, a cup, to tell him what to feel? He pressed his face tightly against his pillow and let out a muffled yell. It was never the cup, and he knew it.
He didn't know what else to call them. Obviously, they weren't dead, because Harry did have some faith that Dumbledore wouldn't let anyone die. Not ever, but especially not when the grounds were covered with reporters and Ministry officials. They looked like corpses. Harry looked at Hermione. Her eyes were closed and she didn't appear to be breathing, though Harry was too far away to actually be able to discern this for certain. All he knew was that no air bubbles floated from her nose, and her mouth was shut. Her hair floated above her head and twisted with the gentle waves of the water. Harry had never given thought to water moving below the surface. He scanned the group, trying to see who treasured who. He guessed the small blonde girl on the end was Fleur's- though he wondered why she was at Hogwarts to be stolen at all. This girl couldn't have been more than a second year. He saw the pale face of Cho, for Cedric, obviously. He headed towards Hermione. A mermaid swam in front of him and crossed a spear to block his way. Harry blinked in confusion.
He wanted so very badly to blame something else, but Harry knew that he couldn't. Around him he could hear the sounds of Gryffindor waking up. To stay or to go? To be honest or to lie?
It pointed at the fourth treasure, and glared more fiercely. Hermione was for Victor? A little sad, being as he'd known her maybe three months. Harry turned to look at his hostage and everything seemed to looked and he looked, but the image stayed the same. The thing he would most miss, the thing that he was supposed to need so badly- Draco Malfoy.
Harry had no clue.