A day late, I know, but my Internet hates me. Please review -I love hearing your opinions and thoughts on things!

Chapter 11: The Second Task

"Ready, Potter?" Snape asked half-heartedly. How Potter felt about this task was none of Snape's concern. It was himself he needed to worry about. Even though Dumbledore had replaced his memories and desires, he still hoped he hadn't clung on to the only person who made him truly happy... it made him feel completely hollow knowing that he couldn't remember who it was. He had no recollection of any memories consciously, and felt as though he had lost himself. Who exactly was he?

"Yes, sir," Harry answered stiffly. "Will you be going first?"

"We shall see," answered Dumbledore as he walked into the champions' tent. "You must all draw from this bag, and whatever your number is, is the position you will be in." He held out a purple bag. "Since Mr. Potter and Professor Snape finished first in the previous task, they will be the first to choose."

"Second," Snape read aloud. His voice usually monotone now sounded absolutely dead; no emotion or inflection behind it.

"Sixth," Harry said. Brilliant, Harry thought, I'm last.

"And now Ms. Delacour and Professor Maude," Dumbledore announced.

"I will go première," Fleur said nervously.

"And I will go troisième," Maude exclaimed.

Professor Desislava drew from the bag. "Fourth."

"And I vill go fifth," Krum concluded.

"Good luck to you all," Albus said seriously before exiting the tent.

"May de best school vin," Krum added.

"Good luck, Professor," Harry called out as Snape made his way out of the tent. He thought he heard a grumble of appreciation, but he couldn't be sure.

Harry started pacing the tent. One after the other, the other competitors left the tent, and didn't come back in. When Krum left, Harry's nerves were threatening to take over. His hands shook, his teeth were chattering, and he felt sick to his stomach. His pacing had quickened, and Harry wanted to run. After a loud cheer, a canon went off. Finally, it was Harry's turn.

"Last but not least, Hogwarts' Student Champion: Harry Potter," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the stadium.

Stay calm, and you'll pass. Panic, and you'll…

Harry was faced with a nasty boggart. His nerves dissolved as it immediately turned into Lord Voldemort.

He's not worth the title, and he's not worth the fear, Harry thought to himself.

"Riddikulus!" Harry shouted. Voldemort turned into a puffy, alien balloon. Before he could move however, the balloon-Voldemort turned into a dementor. He tried his best to conjure a happy thought. He could feel them diminishing faster than he could collect them. The boggart-dementor glided over to him, reaching a dead claw-like hand towards him. Harry could feel his sight start to fade. There was no happiness inside him now. But he couldn't let himself faint! He pictured his mum and dad dancing and twirling in a picture taken just after they were married. He pictured them holding him and loving him. He pictured Ron and Hermione by his side until the end.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted. His silver stag charged at the dementor, which diminished it. A couple of "ooh"s and "ahh"s could be heard from the crowd. Harry absently wondered why he let the dementor that close in the first place.

He then followed the cobblestone path until he reached … a mirror. It wasn't just a normal mirror, however. No, it was the Mirror of Erised. Hermione had been right; sometimes your greatest desire can turn into your greatest fear or biggest obstacle.

Don't focus on it, Harry urged himself. They're dead and you know it. There is no spell to raise the dead, and there never will be.

The scroll for the next task was above the mirror, floating, taunting him. There was no way for him to grab it unless he looked into the mirror. He forced himself to stop stalling and took a glance.

Mom…Dad…

It was just like first year when he first laid eyes on his parents. He could feel his heart flutter in hope, and then drop at the memories. They were dead.

"Snap yourself out of it, Potter," Snape growled from his spot on the sidelines. He couldn't remember why he felt like he needed to protect him; it was instinct.

Harry almost sat down just to watch. He could, if he really wanted to. This was just a stupid tournament; not important. The cheering of Ron and Hermione from the stands snapped him out of these thoughts. He jumped up to grab the scroll, and was greeted by cheers.

"That will conclude our Second Task. Professor Snape is in first place, with a time of 3:31; Viktor Krum is in second with a time of 3:52; third, Harry Potter, with a time of 4:04; fourth, Fleur with a time of 4:05; fifth, Professor Desislava with a time of 4:17; and sixth, Professor Maude, with a time of 4:20," McGonagall's voice boomed through the stadium.

"Next month, the Third Task will take place," Dumbledore said, "Use your scrolls to help your preparation. The overall standings are this: Hogwarts in first, with 13 points, followed by Durmstrang with 11 points, and Beauxbatons with 9 points."

Harry opened his scroll, and read the brief description aloud, feeling his stomach drop. "One will survive."