"Accio Firebolt," Harry intoned, visualizing the streamlined contours of his broom. He used the seconds he had until his ride arrived to observe his competitors.

Viktor Krum was the first into the water; the Durmstrang champion transfigured his close-cropped head into that of a shark with a vigorous wave of his wand and dived from the bridge. Harry hummed the Jaws theme absentmindedly.

Cedric and Fleur took a minute longer to prepare. The two cast warming and protective spells on their persons at a furious pace, finishing with basic Bubble-Head Charms. Harry's gaze lingered on Fleur, whose one-piece swimsuit hugged her shapely figure like a second skin.

So distracted he'd been with ogling the French champion, that his freshly arrived Firebolt bumped the back of his head and nearly sent him stumbling into the lake. Face burning under the audience's laughter, he cast a second Summoning Charm.

"Accio Harry's rock!"

A boulder marked with the letter 'H' freed itself from the muddy shore with a squelch and soared towards him unsteadily. Harry gritted his teeth and concentrated on maintaining the charm until it was a few feet away. Sighing in relief, he canceled the Accio, and the rock dropped onto the wooden platform, causing it to list to one side. Swinging his arms to regain balance, he mounted his broomstick and cast the spell which he hoped was going to bring him victory.

"Ebublio!"

A pearly bubble emerged from the tip of his wand, ballooning until it was large enough to encase himself, his broom, and the boulder underneath. Harry poked the thin membrane and grinned when it snapped back into place. Typically used to trap enemies, a properly-cast Ebublio Jinx was nearly invulnerable to physical damage. It would serve him well.

He put his wand away (one of the perks of his method for tackling the task was that he could wear regular clothes) and leaned over the shaft of the Firebolt. The broom wobbled as it inched forward, struggling to pull the ballast, but Harry didn't let up until he cleared the platform.

Even though prepared for it, he couldn't help but cry out when he immediately sank a good thirty or forty feet under water. The rate of descent slowed from there, but the weight still dragged him deeper. He didn't resist, watching the bubble shrink under pressure with mild alarm.

By the time he stopped sinking, Harry couldn't see farther than a couple of feet through the murky water. He could just about make out some plants if he squinted against the gloom, so he figured the bottom had to be near.

He reached for his wand with one hand. "Point Me."

The twelve inches of pine spun on his palm and settled pointing north. Harry turned east—towards the center of the lake, if he had his directions right. His broom responded more sluggishly than in air but still carried him onward.

It was dark and eerily quiet, and the semi-opaque barrier enclosing him wasn't helping matters, but his eyes were adjusting. Something small and green kept flitting just inside his range of visibility, but he couldn't tell whether that was some sort of an animal or merely the aquatic plants swaying in the currents.

His curiosity was satisfied a minute later, when a fierce-looking creature slammed into the bubble and barred its pointy teeth at him.

"Bloody hell," he blurted out, nearly slipping off his broom. "Did no one tell you jump scares were cheap?"

Taking a steadying breath, he inspected the Grindylow with macabre interest. Its pale-green body was around two feet tall, with a humanoid upper half and dozens of roiling tentacles at the bottom. A maw lined with hundreds of needle-like teeth made up most of its grotesque head. The creature nibbled on the magical bubble until deciding it wasn't palatable and shooting off.

Harry continued on his quest, a little shaken yet heartened that the membrane had withstood the attack. The lake was becoming deeper, and contrary to his expectations, brighter than before—not that there was anything to see other than a forest of lake weeds. He tugged his Firebolt upwards, hoping the visibility would be better from higher up.

Disentangling the Ebublio sphere from the pesky plants, he gasped at the wondrous sight ahead. The water teemed with floating wisps of light, their luminescence merging into a gentle, ubiquitous glow. The dense weeds he'd been toiling through gave way to rocky lakebed, which sloped downwards until it reached the first artificial structures. He had cast his eyes upon the merfolk village.

Houses built from mossy stone and decorated with iridescent mussel shells peppered the lake-bed. Round openings on their roofs served as doorways, and they had no equivalents of windows. There weren't any streets; the buildings piled against one another with no apparent order. Several multi-storey structures stood out from the rest, as did those built into the enormous jagged rocks jutting out from the bottom of the lake. It was difficult to estimate how large the settlement was given its inhuman architecture, but from the number of inhabitants darting around with enviable grace, Harry guessed the underwater valley could be as populous as Hogwarts.

He approached carefully, peering this way and that for any sign of the hostages. His advance didn't go unnoticed; a group of merpeople pointed at him and huddled together before scattering in the labyrinthine village. Only one remained, slowly swimming towards Harry. He pressed his face against the boundary, eager to glimpse the fabled merperson.

As the mermaid edged closer—and she was definitely a mermaid, Harry realized with a rising heat in his cheeks—he discerned more details of her physique. A muscular tail covered in gleaming scales gave way to a human-like upper half with pale blue skin and a halo of mauve hair. She wasn't wearing any clothes, and Harry's eyes inadvertently drifted to her breasts, smooth and perky, with small nipples a tad darker than her skin.

He shook off his reverie and raised his head to find himself under similar scrutiny. The mermaid's yellow eyes looked amused as she smiled at him, revealing elongated fangs reminiscent of a vampire's. He grinned uncertainly in response.

The mermaid somersaulted, then beckoned him to follow and shot off towards a nearby rock formation like a missile, her whole body flexing harmoniously to part the water. She halted some distance away, swung around, and waved to him again.

Harry shrugged and followed, pushing his Firebolt harder than before due to an urge to show off. He hadn't failed to notice the small, yet vicious-looking claws on her fingers, but he was more interested in other parts of her anatomy.

His guide stopped in front of a cave, the insides of which were illuminated by the ever-prevalent ghost lights. She circled Harry's bubble, almost rubbing against it as she glided along its circumference, then dived down to his face level and began gesticulating.

A beckoning motion, a gesture towards the cave, then a tap on the membrane. A fluttering of her eyelashes, her nose touching the barrier, her tongue darting out to lick her pale lips hungrily.

Harry's face felt hot. "I've a task to finish," he said, forgetting that she couldn't hear him, and probably wouldn't understand the language even if she did.

Pouting, the mermaid ran her hands down her sides and wiggled her tail. He gulped as he followed the motions with his eyes.

"Okay, here's the situation," he mused out loud, for his mind seemed to have lost its ability for rational thought. "On one hand, this is pretty much the chance of a lifetime. On the other, I have to rescue Tony, who is protected by Dumbledore's spells, and finish a task in a tournament I hardly give a damn about. Heh. When I put it that way..."

He pulled a sealed bag of Gillyweed out of his pocket, ripped it open, and stuffed the bundle of grey roots into his mouth. This had been his backup plan in case the bubble was damaged or he couldn't recover his hostage without breaking out. It was a risky maneuver, but Harry was a gentleman—and gentlemen didn't leave poor horny mermaids unattended.

He swallowed the slimy clump with a grimace, then pulled his wand out of his sleeve and waved it in a broad arc. "Finite Incantatem!"

The sphere around him collapsed, icy water rushing in to meet his transforming shape. He gasped, a stream of bubbles escaping his mouth, but his body was adapting already; the world gained sound and smell, and Harry suddenly felt less of an invader and more like someone who belonged a hundred feet underwater. He shrugged off his robes and kicked off his constricting shoes, sliding his wand into his trouser pocket.

The mermaid approached with wide eyes. She extended her hand to caress his newly acquired gills, which matched the ones adorning her own slender neck, and smiled broadly. Giving him a playful shove, she launched herself towards the cave, shooting a challenging glance over her shoulder. Harry gave chase.

Firebolt clutched in his right hand, he entered the narrow opening at breakneck speed, catching a glimmer of blue scales before his quarry disappeared around the corner. Harry powered forward, feeling the currents and eddies in the water with his skin, his body reacting instinctively to negotiate a sharp bend by a hair's breadth. It was as exhilarating as hurtling through the air on a broomstick, if not more so.

He raced through the winding cave, ignoring the occasional side tunnel in favor of pursuing the mermaid who remained a few body lengths ahead. His webbed feet were almost a match for her tail, Harry reckoned, and he only needed to push a little harder to catch up. Any thoughts of getting lost or hurt were washed away by a primal thrill. He grinned, his tongue tasting her scent in the water.

As he squeezed through another curve, the cave unexpectedly expanded into a sizable cavern. Harry stopped in his tracks, floating at the threshold as he took in the sight. The walls were unnaturally smooth, indicating merpeople activity, and the place was filled with soft green light emanating from fluorescent fungi.

She was in the middle of the room, gazing at him with a toothy smile as her chest heaved. Harry approached, never breaking eye contact. He could smell her; feel her movements through the tiny currents that they created. The sensation was potent and entirely inhuman, and he hesitated as a part of his mind screamed about how weird this was.

The mermaid grasped his wrists and pulled him towards herself. Peering at him through half-lidded eyes, she guided his palms to her breasts. As his webbed fingers cupped her soft mounds, Harry's breath caught in his gills.

"Whoever put my name in, thank you," he mumbled.

The mermaid leaned in and brushed his cheek with her lips, obscuring his field of vision with her magnificent mane of hair.

"Sorry," her raspy voice said in his ear.

"W-what?" He jerked away in shock, only to get clobbered on the back of his head.

Harry was brought to consciousness by a sharp pain in his foot and the tang of blood in the water. His eyes flew open. He was in the same cavern still, hands bound behind his back, head hurting, and his foot repeatedly jabbed by some fish-tailed asshole with a spear.

"Oi, stop that!" he protested, his own voice sounding strangely altered to his ears. He tried to pull his hands apart, but for ropes presumably made from underwater materials, they were surprisingly strong.

The merman sneered, revealing yellowing teeth tapered to points, and gave him one last poke. He screeched something at his two companions, who seemed to be in the middle of a quarrel. One of them was another merman—younger in appearance than the first, and holding a live fish as if it were a weapon—while the other was the familiar mauve-haired mermaid. Harry glared at her until she averted her eyes.

"You, wizard. Teach magic," the older merman said in barely recognizable English. He had Harry's wand in his clawed hand, holding the twelve inches of pine by the wrong end.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Harry's throat vibrated as he spoke, producing a voice of unusually low timbre which carried through the water.

"Teach magic," the merman repeated, brandishing his crude spear. "For kill enemy."

"I will if you let me go." His eyes darted around, noting that the sole exit was unguarded and his broomstick was floating nearby, evidently not interesting enough to warrant the muggers' attention. He straightened up, only to get the pointy end of a spear digging into his neck.

The merman leader growled.

Harry tilted his head back. "Alright, alright! Just point the wand at something you want dead, and say Avada Kedavra."

The merman lowered his weapon and lifted the wand, still holding it by the tip. He aimed at the wall, then glanced at Harry, who nodded in encouragement. If merpeople were actually capable of using magic, then maybe this jackass would manage to off himself.

"Arghar Ghedaghr!" the spear guy croaked.

"You almost got it," Harry said, edging towards his broomstick while the merpeople were absorbed in their 'spellcasting'. "It's Avada Kedavra—try again."

"Arghara Ghedahra! Arhada Khedarha!"

Harry bent his legs and flipped his tied-up hands to the front, then kicked mightily to propel himself towards the Firebolt. He met the mermaid's eyes briefly—she seemed more resigned than alarmed—and swam out of the room clutching his broomstick. There were enraged screeches behind him, but he resisted the impulse to look back and focused on navigating the treacherous tunnels.

As if guided by some sixth sense, he made the correct turns again and again, going as much by memory as by the taste of fresh water on his tongue. Soon, he saw the ghost lights through the narrow mouth of the cave and darted outside, hazarding a look over his shoulder.

The mermen were hot on his heels, brandishing their primitive weapons. Harry's head was still hurting and his heartbeat was rapid from exertion and distress. In his current condition, he didn't stand a chance of outracing a merperson in open water.

Fortunately, he still had his trusty Firebolt. He gripped the handle tighter, flattened himself against the shaft, and shot forward like a torpedo, laughing hysterically at the narrow escape. He ended up zooming across the whole merfolk village and beyond, leaving the illuminated area and diving back into the twilight. Only then did he slow down to get his bearings and decide on his next move.

The Gillyweed hadn't worn off yet, but he had no clue how much longer it would last. His options were limited: head back up, or use what time he had left to search for the hostages. He settled on the latter, hoping he would be able to free them without his wand. Should his gills disappear while still underwater, he was confident that his broomstick's speed would save him.

He circled the bright expanse of water surrounding the village, noting with satisfaction how the Firebolt's responsiveness improved now that he didn't need to drag the cumbersome bubble around. Putting his rudimentary Seeker skills to use, he tried to spot anything that stood out. Eventually, he noticed a dark shape looming a small distance from the village, and dashed in that direction.

A massive stone pillar emerged from the murky waters, straight as an arrow and inscribed with unfamiliar glyphs all over. Harry doubted the merfolk were that good at masonry, but he had no time to ponder the mystery of its origin, for he made out two human-shaped blobs floating at its base. Diving lower, he identified Tony and a little girl whose striking silvery hair suggested she was related to Fleur.

He considered the ropes tying the ankles of the hostages to immense boulders, then his own bound wrists. Something sharp. Scanning the lakebed, he lunged for an algae-covered pebble, only to discard it when it turned out to be too smooth to be of any use. The webbing between his fingers was shrinking before his eyes. He frantically checked his trouser pockets, already knowing he wouldn't find anything. If only he had brought a—wait.

He zipped towards Tony and rolled up the legs of his trousers, thankful that no one was around to see that. His fingers encountered the smooth handle of a Potions knife, and a trail of bubbles left his mouth as he sighed in relief. Flipping the knife around, he made short work of the braided rope tying his wrists; the bindings holding the two sleepers were more resilient, but still no match for the enchanted steel.

Harry gathered up the hostages in his arms and mounted the Firebolt, feeling markedly short of breath. He started ascending as fast as the broomstick would take him, making a conscious effort to only breathe through his gills. When those stopped working, he held his breath resolutely and stared upwards, pushing the sports broom to its limits. The water was growing brighter, but not quickly enough; there were black spots at the edges of his vision by the time they finally broke the surface. Harry greedily gulped down air, shivering in the frigid February wind.

Once he no longer felt like he was about to faint, he set course for the floating platforms the task had started from, the Firebolt wobbling under the weight of three drenched people. Preventing them from falling back into the water while steering the broomstick was no easy task, especially when his passengers stirred from their enchanted sleep.

"Fuck, it's freezing," his best mate muttered as he looked around. "Hey, what did you kidnap the brat for?"

"I'll explain later," Harry said through chattering teeth. "H-hold her still so I can drive this thing."

The girl was flailing about and babbling in French, which certainly didn't help Harry's efforts to fly the overloaded broom. To his relief, Tony's hurried reassurances calmed her down somewhat, and they managed to make it back to the starting point without tipping over.

Fleur, who had been pacing the edge of the platform, gathered the little blonde up in her arms as soon as they landed. Harry dismounted and stood on the raft with unsteady legs as people clustered around him and the spectators cheered from the stands far above. He received numerous claps on his back which nearly sent him tumbling back into the water.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back," said some Ministry official who looked like he was doing his best to appear important.

Sirius, currently borrowing the guise of a nondescript Weasley relation, steadied him by his arm. "Well done, kid. What took you so long?"

"All these p-people, and no one has the decency to cast a Drying Charm?" he groused in response. His godfather raised his wand sheepishly and did just that.

"Make way, make way!" Madam Pomfrey's brisk voice resounded. The throng parted to let the nurse through, and Harry gave her a grateful smile when she wrapped a blanket around him and thrust a vial of a steaming potion into his shaking hands.

"Ah, that's better." He burped up steam as the Pepper-Up did its job.

"You are the last champion to arrive, Harry," Dumbledore addressed him, towering over everyone but Madam Maxime. "After the screen stopped working, we did not know what to think. Before we make a judgment, could you tell us what happened and how you ended up saving Miss Delacour's hostage in addition to your own?"

"Screen?" Harry squawked, feeling a sudden urge to dive back into the lake. "You were watching me?"

"But of course, young man," Ludo Bagman butted in, sounding bemused. "We have to keep the audience entertained! Every champion was tagged with a charm that allowed us to follow their adventure under the lake. It's one of the latest innovations from the Committee on Experimental Charms."

Harry swiveled his head, gauging the reactions. "Er..."

"Still needs some work, though," Ludo added, oblivious to Harry's panic. "Why, we could scarcely see anything outside your splendid bubble jinx, and the screen went blank after you followed that merperson through the village. Such a shame, too—people were expecting something extraordinary again."

Harry plopped down on the planks as tension left him, disregarding to the exclamations of concern. That Finite had apparently saved his bacon.

"I was attacked," he said from his seated position, shutting everybody up. "The merpeople led me to a cave—I thought they were guiding me to the hostages, see—where they bashed me over the head and took my stuff. I managed to escape and reach the goal somehow, where I decided to save both Tony and that girl. Couldn't leave her there with the merfolk acting as they did." That was as close to the truth as he was willing to get; no way was he admitting to being seduced by a mermaid like the sailors of old.

Shocked silence greeted his words, then the platform shook as the Beauxbatons headmistress stomped towards the headmaster of the host school. "Dumbledore, you told us it was perfectly safe—that you had an accord with the merfolk!"

Dumbledore's countenance was pale and drawn, but he faced the half-giantess without backing away. "Indeed, Madam Maxime, I told you just that. We are going to get to the bottom of this matter as soon as I have a chance to speak with the merchieftainess. Why, I believe that is her entourage coming up now."

Everyone turned towards the lake, where several merfolk stuck their heads outside the water and approached the humans. Harry used this chance to sneak away, dragging his disguised godfather along. The ginger man looked at him quizzically.

"Padfoot, you recall how my wand looks, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "How could I forget. You were boasting about your 'superior length' the entire summer."

"Excellent," Harry replied. "Now be a dear and summon it for me, would you? I seem to have misplaced it at the bottom of the lake."

Sirius stared at him with alarm before walking up to the water and casting a vocalized Summoning Charm. Wands were important, especially matched ones which became almost a part of the wizard or witch themselves.

Harry observed the smooth waters, trying not to show his trepidation. He breathed easier when the surface finally broke half a minute later, releasing a foot-long wooden stick.

"Cheers," Harry said happily, snatching his wand out of the air before it reached his godfather. Aside from being wet, it was none the worse for the wear, warming his palm as it spouted multicolored sparks.

The discussion between the merfolk and Dumbledore was so lengthy and ear-piercing that the spectators started climbing down the long stairs and trudging back to the shore. Harry had plenty of time to summon himself a pair of shoes, retell his slightly modified story thrice, and get a great sloppy kiss from Fleur for saving her sister. The older veela was still wearing that skin-tight swimsuit under her own warming blanket, which definitely improved his mood.

Finally, Dumbledore nodded to the merpeople in farewell and straightened up, meeting the expectant eyes of the school heads, the champions and their families, and the Ministry personnel.

"I have spoken at length with the merchieftainess Murcus about the incident," he said hoarsely. "The attack on Mr. Potter was carried out by a band of renegades who conspired to steal a wand from one of the champions. While they have certain small magics of their own, some merpeople resent the Wand Ban and covet the power wielded by us wizards and witches. In this regard, they are no different from other Beings, most notably goblins, who also feel strongly about the Ministry decree prohibiting them from learning wandlore."

"Spare us the lecture, Dumbledore," Karkaroff barked. "How will you ensure these merpeople won't be a threat to my students?"

"Murcus tells me her people have already apprehended the three attackers. The ringleader is going to be executed so no one would dare defy her authority again," Dumbledore explained somberly.

"What about the other two?" Harry piped up.

The headmaster gave him a gentle smile. "I requested the chieftainess to show mercy, and she agreed to let both followers go unscathed as long as they swear fealty to her anew. I hope I wasn't too presumptuous in making this decision without consulting you. The merfolk view me as something of a human tribe leader, you see."

"That's fine, sir," Harry said. The scaly bitch did lure him into an ambush, but it wasn't like he wanted her to die. He'd have to scratch the idea of having a mermaid in his harem as they proved too devious—not to mention, the logistics problem the whole thing presented—but perhaps he could get a hold of some more Gillyweed and drop by for a visit. He grinned as he remembered the feeling of her breasts in his hands.

"Oi, mate!" Tony's voice woke him from his daydream. "They're about to announce the scores."

Indeed, the judges were conferring with Bagman a short distance away, the portly man bobbing his head and making notes on a piece of parchment. Before long, he pointed his wand at his throat and began speaking.

Krum ended up earning full points for retrieving his hostage well within the time limit. Karkaroff clasped his favorite student's shoulder and smiled proudly as the Durmstrang delegation unleashed a deafening ovation.

Cedric and Harry were tied for the second place. While the Ravenclaw arrived much later, the judges felt he deserved commendation for escaping the hostile merfolk and rescuing both remaining hostages. The Hogwarts champions shook hands before waving at the cheering audience.

To no one's surprise, Fleur was in the last place, scoring the bare minimum of points for making it back on her own power without her hostage. She ignored the courteous applause, still fussing over her sister who was beginning to look a little harried.

"I'm not the only one who thinks the Wand Ban is unjust," Hermione said. "Dumbledore himself said as much!"

Padma rolled her eyes. "The others aren't keen to share their magics with us either. Take goblins as a case in point—they protect their metalworking techniques with tooth and nail."

"All I'm saying is, if the merpeople had an equal opportunity..."

Harry reclined on his basilisk-leather sofa and tuned the two witches out, focusing on the runic treatise in his lap. He already regretted recounting what had happened under the lake to his friends, since it resulted in Padma and Hermione arguing about wizarding law for what felt like hours.

"As for you, Harry," Hermione spoke up, breaking his concentration, "none of this would've happened if it weren't for your weird... fixation."

He lifted his gaze from the book. "Excuse me?"

"She was a mermaid," Hermione said in an exasperated tone. "How could she have possibly enticed you? Unlike veela, they have no innate magic of that kind."

He'd expected something to this effect when he told them the unabridged story, of course. Snapping the book shut, he rose. "I was merely following my manly calling, Hermione."

She furrowed her brows. "You've lost me."

"It is in the wizards'—nay, all men's—nature to yearn for adventure, for excitement, for new frontiers to conquer—"

"With our dicks," Tony quipped, earning a cuff on the back of his head from Padma.

Harry cleared his throat. "To appreciate everything our vast world has to offer, and to seek beauty in all its forms. Hence, my attraction to other Beings is not only perfectly natural, but also a part of the pioneering spirit that drives the wizarding world forward!" He stood tall and proud, gazing towards a horizon only he could see.

Hermione sighed. "What you just said has no basis in reality."

"You want facts? I'll blow your mind with facts," Harry said, folding his arms. "Humans are the only ones who procreate with other species. You never see, say, goblin-veela hybrids, but half-humans are everywhere. There's even speculation that wizardkind's powers originate from our creature heritage—that we essentially obtained magic through hot, depraved cross-species intercourse!"

"That's a fringe theory," Su said. She ducked her head when everyone's eyes turned towards her. "It was in Illustrated Witchcraft."

"See? It's even making the big-time magazines." Harry grinned. "Think about it: maybe we can only cast spells thanks to a daring ancestor who got really drunk one day and boinked a dragon."

Hermione snorted. "I'm impressed at how far you're willing to go to justify your perversion, but there's no way you can convince me it's normal."

Harry raised a hand as he gathered his thoughts. "Flitwick is part-goblin. There are rumors that Sprout has dryad blood in her lineage. It's practically common knowledge that Hagrid is a half-giant. Do you hate these fine people, Hermione? Do you hate Hagrid?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"His parents, then? He's a product of a union between a man and a giantess." Harry tilted his head as he considered the mechanics of such a coupling.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "I mean, it should be impossible from a scientific perspective, considering the vastly different gestation periods, but—"

"Your cold equations are missing something crucial. Love. Science is powerless in its presence." His cheek twitched, but he refrained from laughing. "You wouldn't deny two Beings tragically separated by the barrier of species the right to love one another and make lots of cute monster babies, would you? Just imagine... the instant you lay eyes on each other, something stirs deep inside you, something you never felt before... and though you know that it's wrong, that no one would understand... you succumb to temptation, and when your sweaty bodies tangle together at last, all you can think about is how right it feels."

Su fanned herself with her hand.

"Goodness, that's..." Hermione shook her head so hard her hair whipped her pink cheeks. "Obscene! It's all good if there's love, but all you're doing is fetishizing non-humans!"

Harry adopted an affronted expression. "Fetishizing? I simply don't discriminate between something as superficial as species. Do try to be more broad-minded."

Hermione laughed shrilly. "I need to be more broad-minded? Me? I can't—I can't even—get bent, Potter!" She snatched her bag and stormed out the door.

The brief silence in the Roost was interrupted when Tony began clapping slowly. Padma joined in, looking impressed despite herself.

"And that," Harry said, sketching a bow, "is how you win an argument against Hermione Granger."

Over the next few days, a multitude of people approached Harry to ask him about his underwater adventure. He was terse with the guys, but every pretty girl got the full, albeit heavily altered, account.

When wandering the corridors between classes, he ran into the younger Delacour (Gabrielle, as he'd learned from Fleur) who thanked him for saving her from the merpeople—a task made difficult by her poor English. Harry was rather moved; Fleur was lucky to have such a wonderful little sister.

"Gabrielle, can you do something for me?" he asked, taking care to enunciate each syllable. The moppet stared at him with innocent blue eyes and nodded. "I want you to call me Onii-chan."

"Onii... chan?" she said, mangling the pronunciation yet somehow making it sound even more adorable.

Harry grinned blissfully. "Ah, there is something to it after all."

"Onii-chan, Onii-chan!" she repeated, giggling at his delighted expression.

"Well done, Gabby. Now say, 'I love you, Onii-chan'."

The girl jabbered something in French before echoing, "I love you, Onii-chan!"

"These words do have power," Harry said in the tone of a man who had an epiphany. His eyes glazed over before he shook himself out of his musings and turned his attention back to the youngest Delacour. There were other hypotheses that needed testing. He spoke, Gabrielle parroting the phrases obediently.

"Am I cute? Uguu~"

"I-it's not like I'm d-doing this for you or anything."

"My body is ready, Onii-chan."

Harry laughed, his mirth only increasing when Gabrielle joined in without understanding what was so funny. "Okay, how about..."

"Harry Potter!" Fleur Delacour's livid voice rang throughout the Great Hall.

Heads turned towards the entrance, Harry's among them. He took in Fleur's disheveled hair, flushed face, and narrowed eyes.

"Oh crap," he said, stooping down in hopes she'd miss him.

"There you are!" The part-veela stormed along the Ravenclaw table, wand out. "What vile things have you been teaching Gabby? I should've listened when your housemates warned me you were a deviant!"

Harry straightened up in his seat and looked around indignantly. "Who the hell has been saying that?"

Fleur brandished her wand, and he ducked under a sizzling jet of cyan light which blew up a bowl of mashed potatoes, splattering them over the nearby students.

"Calm down!" he yelped, wiping the gunk off his ear. "That was just—"

"Stay away from my sister!" Fleur shrieked, approaching with her wand trained on him. Up close, he could see that her features had become more angular, almost predatory, although she looked all the hotter for it.

The other Ravenclaws hurried to clear the area, leaving him feeling very vulnerable. Fleur fired off another spell, and he flattened himself against the bench, wincing at the sound of shattering glassware. He rolled underneath the table and started crawling so fast his knees and elbows smarted. It was dinner time, so the Great Hall was packed; he could probably make it to the end of the house table safely and then leg it towards the exit.

Fleur was still screaming something and he heard McGonagall's angry brogue, but he didn't pause to listen. To reach the literal light at the end of the tunnel, he first had to traverse the cramped passage amid tight rows of legs. Some of them were prone to moving, as he learned when a polished black shoe knocked his glasses askew. Harry murmured an expletive and raised his head to avoid any more collisions.

A pair of particularly nice legs in a skirt so short it obviously violated the Hogwarts dress code drew his attention. Harry couldn't resist taking a peek as he slunk by, eyes widening when he caught a glimpse of lacy fabric. It was purple, but not quite; he racked his brain for the word Hermione had used.

"Fuchsia!" he said triumphantly.

A moment of stillness followed as both Harry and the owner of the undergarment froze in surprise, before the leggy witch squealed and started kicking blindly. He scrambled away, wheezing in pain when the tip of her shoe connected with his stomach.

When he reached the end of the table he ran for the double doors, risking a glance over his shoulder. Fleur was in a spirited discussion with McGonagall and Flitwick; Harry's eyes met hers briefly and she lunged after him only to get restrained by the professors. He chuckled nervously and ducked around the corner.

His head impacted something solid and he staggered back with a wince. Looking up, he saw an older Beauxbatons boy glaring at him with contempt.

"Pierre? Can't chat about Bicorns right now," Harry said, attempting to move around him.

The French wizard sidestepped deftly, blocking his path. "I have cautioned Fleur against associating with a... péquenaud like yourself, and you've proven me right."

"A what now?" Harry tried to push past but was shoved in the chest. "Oi! You looking for a fight or something?"

"Caught on, have you?" Pierre said, rolling up his sleeves. "The headmistress warned us against hexing the rival champions, but I don't recall her saying anything about fists."

"Huh." Having not expected that, Harry suddenly felt uncertain, but he wasn't about to back down. "Well, bring it on, nancy boy!"

Hearing the doors to the hospital wing creak open, Harry grabbed his wand from the bedside cabinet, then relaxed when he recognized Tony. Madam Pomfrey had promised he would be safe in her domain, but it never hurt to make sure—at least figuratively speaking, for his bruised ribs certainly didn't appreciate the movement.

"Ouch, what the hell happened to you?" Tony said, spotting his black eye.

"Um, well..." Harry scratched his cheek sheepishly. "You know how in action shows, the skinny kid always defeats the larger, more muscular enemy?"

"Yeah," Tony said slowly. "You do realize that's a load of bollocks, right?"

Harry sighed. "I do now."

A/N: If you perverts want to read about Harry getting it on with a mermaid, look up dirtyuncle's Under the Lake on AO3.