A/N: Swiftly onwards. The thing about rooms at the start is a disagreement of mine with JK Rowling; sure in Year 9 (equivalent to first year) you might possibly have a dorm with four or five people, but all through school up to age eighteen? For the most part, full boarders will have their own room by Lower Sixth, although Flexi and Day Pupils often share in doubles as far as my experience goes, and so I'm sticking with that in here as a little nit-pick with the canon.

Also, a certain light-hearted scene that somehow worked its way in here is heavily inspired by Silently Watches' Princess of the Blacks.

And finally, a scene was missing from chapter 14 so I've sort-of worked it in here, though I'm not certain it fits. Thanks to FredFred for reminding me about it.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.

Chapter 15

Jasmine rose early, come morning, as she did on most days, despite having come back so late the night before that it was better regarded as morning when she began to sleep. Noting the still sleeping forms of Morag and Padma for a brief moment before shrugging on her uniform. She eyed the green dress folded over a coat hanger and hanging from her curtain rail with a smile before taking a moment to seal that and her golden jewellery inside her trunk where it would be safe before exiting the dorm room. It was easier not to worry about waking others up now that she had a smaller dorm – and she was looking forward to the possibility of a single room in fifth or sixth year, and a definite one in seventh.

The common room was deserted at this hour, and so she was undisturbed as she made her way down to the Great Hall. It was almost disappointing to see the space returned to normal after the previous night, where icicles had hung everywhere, snow had gently fallen, and the room was wreathed in glacial effects.

Her thoughts on the space were dropped to an even lower level by the approach of a scowling man with greasy hair approaching her as she sat down at the nigh-empty Ravenclaw table.

"Miss Potter," Snape began dourly, "would you care to explain your location last night?" His acid tone was one she had rarely had used on her since first year – they had a business-like relationship that didn't call for such vitriol.

"I fail to understand, Professor," she replied with an angelically innocent expression. She of course knew that he was one of the teachers Dumbledore had sent to round her up last night when she didn't appear for the ball – she had discreetly pulled out the Marauder's Map a few times during her and Hermione's little celebration – and that was likely the reason for his annoyance.

"You were required to attend the Ball last night," he hissed in reply, "I do not appreciate having to scurry across the castle searching for you."

"Oh, I think you'll find that the Yule Ball is an optional event, sir, which I chose not to attend," the ravenette stated simply, "there's no rule which says that the Champions must attend, it's just convention for them to do so." He looked like he'd swallowed one of the Goat Fucker's beloved lemon drops at her reply.

"The Headmaster would like to see you in his office following breakfast," he growled out before sweeping away with his ever billowing robes. Like many students before her, Jasmine wondered what charms the man used to make them do so to suit his dramatic flair. That was of course before she scowled at the prospect of meeting with the Headmaster; she was quite happy staying far away from the old interfering coot, thank-you very much. Still, needs must and her mood did brighten somewhat upon seeing Hermione seat herself over at the Gryffindor table and send a small smile her way. Life did have its upsides.

Said upsides were further increased as that morning's Diagon Gazette was mailed to her – containing speculation on the front page about whether the second task of the Triwizard Tournament would be scored more fairly than the first. The paper had been contributing to that angle since the first task; Jasmine felt it might make it easier for the small addendum to the current scoring system that would be to her advantage which she was having a Ministry flunky propose.

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"Ah, Jasmine, please take a seat," the old bastard stated as he stood by his Phoenix, petting the bird. The ravenette merely scowled at him, not sitting down either.

"As I have mentioned several times before, Professor, we are not on a first name basis. Unless you would like me to begin calling you Albus?" He turned stern, disapproving eyes on her, but she didn't react in the slightest. She did have to forcibly still herself as the damn fiery chicken gave a slight trill that drummed upon her ears slightly painfully; the only outward sign she gave was a slight tightening of her knuckles. Bloody bastard and his bloody bird.

"Forgive me; one occasionally makes mistakes when you reach my age," he eventually replied as he sat down behind his desk. 'You finally said something true, you senile old codger.' "Please, sit," he gestured at the seat opposite him.

"I'd prefer to stand, thank-you," she answered shortly, making him frown briefly. "I don't believe this will take long."

"Well, in short, I am heavily disappointed in how you are treating the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore moved into his grandfather persona, leaning back with steepled fingers and innocently twinkling eyes. "I understand that you did not wish to be entered, but your actions still represent the school-."

"No," she said firmly, interrupting him in mid-speech.

"Excuse me, Miss Potter?" he inquired.

"No, you apparently do not understand," she answered him with a scowl, "I was entered against my will and it is my intention to survive it by any means necessary. That does not preclude hamstringing myself due to your idea of ethics, nor attending an optional event celebrating the fact I was press-ganged into a highly dangerous tournament, which I would presume is why I was called up here."

"Miss Potter, you must understand that you not showing up last night was quite an embarrassment to the school…" he replied genially, ignoring her dig at him scoring her down in the First Task.

"As I have already stated; I don't care about the school and its reputation, or about your embarrassment at needing to explain that you couldn't find your precious Girl-Who-Lived to force her to perform like some trained monkey!" She walked forward to press her hands down on his desk and loom over the surprised old man with malice in her eyes. "I will attend the absolute minimum required of me by this tournament without forfeiting my magic, and nothing more. Do I make myself quite clear?"

"Jas-Miss Potter," he just caught himself as her sharp emerald eyes narrowed, "as the headmaster of this school, I do have the authority to-."

"Order me around?" she interrupted, "treat me like the little pet of yours that everyone thinks I am? No, headmaster, what you have is a responsibility to my wellbeing while I am within these walls – and you are not living up to said. Just look at my last few years here; a troll, and of course Voldemort himself walking these halls, a basilisk petrifying people, Dementors nearly sucking out multiple students' very souls." She grinned maliciously. "I'm sure the public would love to hear the details of all of that."

"I do not appreciate threats, Miss Potter," Dumbledore growled out.

"Oh, I have not even begun to threaten you, Albus Dumbledore," the name was spat out like a curse, "that was a warning – I am not your puppet, I will not dance to your tune, and I do not appreciate your attempts to put strings on me." She spun around without waiting for any reply he might give and made for the door.

"Your behaviour like this is what has been concerning me, Jasmine."

"Oh, save it for someone who cares," she replied dismissively while opening the far door, turning only once to shoot a glare at him, "good-day, Albus." His expression upon her calling him by his first name was like he had swallowed a particularly sour sweet, and she savoured it for a moment before leaving.

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A fairly complex unlocking charm flew from Jasmine's wand as she pushed open the door into a disused classroom in one of the towers. Honestly, the school used up so little of the castle; it was a wonder that they bothered maintaining it.

Still, it fit her needs adequately, she mused while looking around the room she had staked out to prepare for the Tournament in. However, she hadn't entered the room since the day before the First Task, since she had no need of it really as far as the Second Task went. All the preparation for that was work which didn't require a training space.

Closing the door behind her, she walked in past the old mirror she had scrounged up, and the pile of misshapen iron posts towards the board hung up on the wall with numerous sheets of parchment on it. With swift movements, the yellowed paper was unpinned and placed into a neat stack on the table beneath – each one having a spell as the title, before detailing how to cast each one and a large tick being present next to the title. That is, of course, until she reached the last one. Jasmine couldn't help but frown as she regarded the page describing the disillusionment charm, and the horizontal bar in the top right. It was a complex spell, of course, and one normally taught and used by Aurors rather than Fourth Years, but in her experience anything she put her mind to for long enough eventually seceded to her. And yes, she had managed to cast it functionally for the most part after all the practice she put into her spell repertoire needed as part of her plan for the First Task – including ones she hadn't needed in the end – but it had still flickered occasionally, and wasn't effective while looking straight at her; hence her grey clothing for the day of the task to decrease the effects of the charm failing in places.

Jasmine did not like failing. Not one bit.

With a sigh, the charm was pinned back up. Despite the fact she didn't need it, especially with her invisibility cloak, she wouldn't let that beat her.

The piece of parchment was swiftly joined by the variety of others denoting spells for different approaches to the Third Task.

'It's annoying how many contingencies I need for this,' Jasmine couldn't help but think as she pinned the papers up, 'if they'd just list with the Ministry how they're making that damn maze, and protecting it, I'd be able to plan appropriately, and it would give me more time to deal with the Second Task. Perhaps I should bring Hermione in? Yes, that might be a good idea, she could certainly help with the runic arrays, and I can claim I gained my information form that Egg. It would also prepare her for being a 'hostage.''

Plan settled she regarded the wall of paper with a frown.

"In the mean-time, I have a lot to be getting on with," she muttered. "Need to remember to find that book Hermione gave me and work out the right recipe…"

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"Bread and circuses," Jasmine muttered as she looked down upon the shouting and jeering crowd beyond the window.

It had been surprisingly easy to have this place built, and she understood why the Goblins built downwards since magic made physics look the other way on a lot of obvious problems. Hence, the underground arena was supported by a few pillars into the ceiling of rough-hewn stone, above which was London.

The large circle in the very centre was filled with sand like the gladiatorial pits of old, and then built up around it were stone layers of seats and standing space into which several dozen men were now fitted. There was above them, several 'boxes' that amounted to more private rooms to watch the barbaric entertainment carved into the rock and with a one-way glass screen. It allowed for men who couldn't afford to be seen in the crowds below to recline in comfort while watching the spectacle. The ravenette, of course, was sitting in the owner's box, watching bemusedly as a man with a wand tried to fight off a fully transformed werewolf before being slammed back against the stone arena walls and being leapt at. He was mauled for a good few seconds before red sparks were emitted from one of the organisers' wands, and the wolf backed off to allow them to pull the thoroughly beaten man from the pit.

He was one of several – probably inebriated – men who had attempted to claim the prize for beating a transformed werewolf under wolfsbane in the ring. None had succeeded of course.

'Still,' Jasmine mused as a mountain troll was brought from the huge doors at the edge of the arena to face the wolf. ''The Pit' is proving quite popular. And we haven't even brought out the main event yet.' The giant waiting in the wings had been a pain to get ahold of, but soon enough it would be facing off against no less than three mountain trolls, which were reasonably common in the British Isles. 'And it's good exercise and stress relief for Greyback and his men.'

It also brought more thoughts on gambling to the fore – Wizards had not been introduced to anything more complex than this; betting on fights or sports. Well, for the moment anyway. A certain disused yard belonging to the train station by Diagon Alley had recently been bought, and then seemingly disappeared from muggle memory. In reality, construction was proceeding apace – and she was quickly becoming popular with some building firms with the amount of work she was giving them of late. At present time, she was searching for someone to head up the operation – much as she did with every arm of her business empire. The Pit, for example, was under the control of one of Fenrir's men, who could easily handle any problems that might arise. Heading up Wizarding Britain's first casino? That would require a slightly different set of skills.

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"And finally, take my hand and apparate us both to the red hoop," commanded the man, who swiftly made several notes on his clipboard once she had done so. "Very good, Miss Potter. I have no hesitation in awarding you your licence – expect our owl tomorrow lunchtime at the latest."

"Much appreciated," she nodded to him before walking over to the doors. This had been a long time coming. Relying on the Knight Bus and then later portkeys had been a pain as well as a drain on her magic. Apparition should make everything much easier.

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The incredibly obese teenager sitting on the foldout bench from the wall seemed inordinately interested in the opposite, blank wall. Likely due to his drug induced state. He didn't even notice the silent opening and closing of the cell door.

"Dudley, Dudley, Dudley," the light whispers carried into his ear made him perk up and look around bewilderedly; he was apparently not completely out of touch with reality. His eyes widened comically as Jasmine whipped off her cloak to unveil herself, clad in her Irene Adler garb minus her normal glasses. "Getting yourself arrested on Christmas day? You shouldn't have."

"W-what, how – who are you? How'd you get in?" he stumbled over trying to find words, pointing a chubby finger at her.

"You would forget me already, cousin of mine? I'm wounded," her faux offended tone was entirely offset by her malicious grin as recognition dawned in the boy's eyes. "What, you didn't think I'd come back? That I'd find you and finish the job I started?" She raised her ebony wand at him, enjoying the terror in his eyes.

"What'chu mean? What job?" he was trying to crawl away from her, back against the grey walls of the holding cell.

"Taking my due in blood, of course. First your pig of a father – such a tragic accident; drowning whilst trying to crawl out of a window he couldn't fit through." The blood drained from the boy's face, and she savoured every paler shade he went through. "And then your bitch mother. I forced her to drink poisoned tea, still perfectly aware of what she was doing," Jasmine chuckled darkly, "I think she died just as the blaze started reaching her precious kitchen, watching her beloved home burn to the ground as her life faded. And now, it's just you left." The fat pig's eyes grew fixated upon her wand. "I waited of course," she continued, drawing out the moment, "you've had plenty of time to acclimatise, feel the loss of your parents. I was going to wait until my birthday for this, but then I find a little notification that you've got yourself in the nick on Christmas day. How could I resist?"

"Bitch!" he growled, changing to leap at her in desperation rather than cowering. A quick flick of her wand, and he was floating in mid-air, unable to move.

"There's nothing you can do to stop this, Dudders," she crooned, laying a finger under his chin. "You're years too late. You made your bed." A further incantation and the fabric of the cot was ripped out of its lining and torn to strips, which tied together into a rope, and slowly a recognisable noose. "It's time for you to lie in it, or I suppose, hang from it." The liquid gathering in his eyes made him look even more pig-like than he already did as the noose was slipped around his flabby neck. With a simple wand motion, he moved backwards through the air until he was by the bars of the cell door, and the rope was tying itself to the top, adjusting minutely to be just what she wanted. "Years of pain, Dudley; here's your investment back, with interest." She cancelled the spell on him, and gravity took hold. He fell back against the bars, and his feet just brushed against the floor while his meaty hands flew to the sudden pressure on his neck. "No, no, none of that, Dudders," a quick spell stuck his hands to his sides. "Now," she watched as he vainly struggled around, trying to use his legs to gain some purchase. "Did you know, that if you make the rope on a noose a hairsbreadth too long, that you will keep touching the ground? Makes a bit of a botched job for those who do this to themselves, and it means you'll take roughly three hours to finally die. Interesting, isn't it?" His bulging eyes denoted that it was anything but. "Oh, and you don't have to worry about being interrupted; there's barely a skeleton crew of police on service today – it is the holidays after all - and they're currently experiencing a technical problem with their surveillance cameras, oh, and I put a notice-me-not charm on the doorway that won't wear off for six hours at least. You get to die in privacy, knowing it's your own fault, and that you have no hope of surviving whatsoever."

He made several choking noises in reply.

"Now, now, don't waste your breath, you're going to need it," with a smile, she stowed her wand. "This is goodbye, dear cousin; we shall not meet again, in this life anyhow. I'm certain we are both headed for a fiery inferno – be sure to give Lucifer, or Hela or whomever my regards." With her parting piece said, she apparated away, with another wonderful memory to power her Patronus' with.

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'The secret to perfect planning is to prepare ahead of time. And cheating of course,' Jasmine mused as she stood on the frozen water of the Black Lake around her, her wand raised to shed light across the moonlit waters that rippled beyond the edge of her freezing spell's influence. According to her revealing charms, the Merpeople village was directly below her. Almost casually, she withdrew a ring of rune-covered silver metal from her pocket, encapsulating a small shard of blue crystal. With a simple throw, she let it fall into the murky waters of the lake, quickly disappearing from sight.

Her task complete, she turned back towards the distant lights of Hogwarts – already considering the path to take to get back to her dorm undetected by the night patrols. Having what was quite possibly Death's own cloak – if legends and the runes translated from the garment were to be believed – was quite a useful tool for such excursions.

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"This has very interesting properties," Jasmine was pulled from reading her potions notebook by the familiar voice, and she smiled before turning on the windowsill to see her beloved bookworm holding one of the larger shards of blue crystal the ravenette had given her for Christmas. "Where did you get it?"

"It's Peruvian," Jasmine answered, closing up her book. "You said you were interested in studying foci in runic matrixes, I decided to get you a few to experiment with."

"Thank-you, Jasmine, it's very interesting to see how it channels magic," the girl answered, seating herself opposite the ravenette.

"Likewise, your gift was also appreciated; it's proving very informative." The book on spell crafting was highly intriguing so far that Jasmine had read it, containing practical advice as well as reasoning behind various effects. "How were your holidays?"

"Good; it's nice to see my parents again. How did Christmas supper with Sirius go?" Jasmine chuckled at the question, reminiscing of the latter half of Christmas day.

"Well, I have learned that my cousin Nymphadora entirely shifts gender at times during sex, and her mother cannot hold her drink and enjoys sea shanties, while her husband prefers off-key renditions of Queen. Sirius somehow managed to burn the turkey, and yet have it be undercooked on the inside, while his roast potatoes looked like roast chestnuts, and lighting his Christmas pudding nearly burned the house down. And then Dora managed to upend the entire table of 'food' over herself. In revenge for him laughing, she convinced Sirius that all Veela are hermaphrodites and are the 'dominant' one in a relationship, apparently ruining a great deal of his fantasies. Remus decided to try and bring some muggle drinks rather than Wizarding ones, and ended up getting Everclear – which he then drank half a whiskey tumbler of in one shot. I learned that the reason my mother resisted my father for so long was because she had an on-off relationship with a Ravenclaw girl in fifth year, and that my father was possibly responsible for a few generations of deer in the Forbidden Forest. I also found out Sirius spent his eighteenth birthday dressed as a woman, and cannot remember the night but woke up next to another man in the morning. Oh, and Kreacher tried to kill Ted with a breadknife," Jasmine remained entirely deadpan as she spoke, enjoying watching Hermione's jaw drop open.

"I agree with what you said in first year; you are a very good liar. I almost believe you," she eventually stated.

"You're right, I do tell a lie," the ravenette relented, "it wasn't a breadknife, it was the carving knife left over from cutting the mutilated turkey." A single raised eyebrow was the only reply the Gryffindor gave. "I believe that maybe a renaming is in order; perhaps the 'Most Ancient and Deviant House of Black.'" Finally, Hermione cracked up, and Jasmine joined her in a carefree laugh. Perhaps she had embellished a little, but it was probably a good thing she didn't mention certain real events, like the tips Nymphadora had given her– while drunk – about how to 'please' a partner, both male and female.

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The day of the Second Task drew the school from within the safe and warm halls of Hogwarts out into the freezing mid-January wind and cold, to stands on stilts in the Black Lake that had been erected overnight. Of course, two Hogwarts students were missing, as well as a family visitor, and a significant other of one of the champions.

Said champions were each dressed very differently from the others. The French girl had the attention of half the population of the school in her tight, silver one-piece swimming costume, presumably of muggle origin if its synthetic nature was anything to go by. The younger of the two Hogwarts champions was staring stoically forward and thinking of her significant other on the lakebed while trying to protect her mindscape from the Veela woman.

The other Hogwarts champion was not quite so able to keep his eyes off of her, even if his chivalrous side forced him to look away occasionally. He was garbed in loose fitting fabric of drawstring shorts and a black and yellow shirt, the latter to probably hide the wide network of dense scar tissue running up his side, and visible peeking out on his neck and left leg. Dragon-fire was a very destructive thing, and like dark magic, extremely difficult to heal. The boy would most likely carry the scars for the rest of his life.

The Durmstrang champion seemed unaffected by the allure of the Veela, staring out ever-moodily over the dark, expansive waters. His garb was slightly stranger; only what looked to be burgundy leather shorts, showing off his muscular torso that seemed to be attracting the eye of a great deal of the female population.

Jasmine of course was also receiving looks, but of an odd kind. Then again, she probably looked quite strange to them. Her blue and black wetsuit clung to her athletic form tightly, but was nothing special. Her forearms and forelegs did have what looked like silver armour pieces attached, however, with a hole threading through lengthways, but with the one on her left wrist instead functioning as a holster for her wand. On her right forearm, however, was what looked like a compass attached to the top side. Furthermore, what looked like a black sled was slung over her back, made of carbon fibre, and underneath that was a pair of slim silver oxygen tanks - each enchanted to hold roughly three hours of oxygen. There was nothing wrong with redundancy in plans, after all. A tube led from one of the tanks to a full-face mask resting around her neck. Finally, resting on each hip was a pistol in a holster – each loaded with twelve flechettes designed specifically for underwater use. Spells had a habit of acting strangely underwater, and she didn't want to have to rely on her wand if it proved faulty; and again, redundancy was underrated.

Inclining her head upwards a bit, she watched the far left of four huge 'screens' floating in the air that displayed the champions standing on the pier, each co-ordinated to a necklace they had been told to wear.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, Bagman once more stepped to the fore – still stubbornly wearing worn Quidditch gear he didn't even fit into.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he announced, enhanced by a sonorous charm. "Welcome to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament!" He frowned slightly upon barely receiving any half-hearted applause; likely due to the weather and dragging these people out into it. Jasmine herself had layered her wetsuit with warming charms so she wouldn't catch hypothermia or the like. "This morning, from each of the champions, something of great importance was stolen and has been hidden at the bottom of the lake. It is up to them to retrieve them within the one hour time limit. In the interest of fairness after the last task," he sent a glance the way of some of his fellow judges, notably Karkaroff, "they shall not be judged individually, but shall receive one point for every minute they arrive back under that time, and will receive none if they come back empty-handed or beyond an hour." The man raised his wand to the fore. "On my mark, your time will begin. Three... Two… One… Go!" He emitted a cannon blast from his wand, upon which three of the champions dived into the murky waters below.

Jasmine, instead, calmly pulled the sled-like shape from her back and set it upon the decking, folding out a long metal rod with handlebars attached from the top-side. With her contraption unfolded, only then did she jump into the lake, pushing the small carbon-fibre hull underneath herself to land with a splash, standing atop it with barely a wobble.

It was slightly disconcerting to be atop the small floating patch, but Jasmine had faith in her stability and buoyancy charms keeping her up. Once certain she wasn't about to capsize, the ravenette set both hands upon the handlebars, and twisted the right one clockwise. Immediately, the small craft jolted, and water began spraying out of the back as it leapt forwards. Jasmine kept her feet firmly planted in special place on the sled, even as the runic matrix she had now connected up was pulling water from in front of her, and pushing it through specially designed channels inside the base to accelerate her forwards.

In essence, it was a compact magical jet ski, and she and Hermione had put some extensive work in on it in order to make sure it functioned perfectly.

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"Here's the proposed array," Hermione stated as she rolled out a large piece of parchment onto one of the tables in the disused classroom.

"Efficient looking," the ravenette murmured in reply, parsing a hand across the neatly inked characters.

"Well, it's relatively easy to do in Futhark actually – since it was widely used in ships by the Norse who brought it over to Britain in the first place," the bushy-haired Gryffindor stated. "Also, see how much better it is this time round after cluing me in properly as to what you're going to do?"

"Of course, and I suppose the fact that it's all in aid of rescuing you is quite the incentive to outperform yourself," Jasmine commented with a smile.

"Urgh, don't say it like that; it makes me feel even more like a damsel in distress," the girl wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

"Well, at least you won't be able to sit there worrying during the task like last time after they give you whatever potion they're planning on."

"Potion? I'd have thought they'd use a bubblehead charm or the like."

"As much as I like Charms, I find that they have a slight tendency to malfunction if something changes that's outside its normal operating function, whereas potions have few things that will cause them problems excepting other potions."

"I think you're just biased as a potioneer," Hermione said with amusement.

"That is entirely untrue…"

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With a slight twist of her arm, Jasmine took a look at the compass mounted there. Leaning out to the side, she turned in direction slightly to follow the needle, upon which was mounted a small piece of blue crystal, from the same original formation as the one she had dropped into the lake during the holidays. The crystal at the bottom of the lake was enchanted specifically to reform itself with that silver ring, and so it was trying to drag the missing piece towards it. All Jasmine had to do was follow her compass, and then head down.

Fairly quickly, the needle on the compass reversed direction, and Jasmine immediately twisted the handlebar to disrupt the runic array, carefully watching the needle as it pointed back where she had come from. Twisting her arm downwards, the needle followed until it was nearly vertical, indicating she was above the Merpeople village.

Calmly, she pulled her mask up to fit over her face, tapping the illumination runes set into tubes on the side that gave out light – a simple array that they'd learned early the previous year – and surrounded the glowing ball by mirrors that angled the light forwards. With finality, she pulled the final piece from the hull of her sled; a button that had been sellotaped to the side.

Drawing her wand and pressing the tip to the button, Jasmine gave a quick incantation. Almost immediately, she was barely holding on to a large lead weight that was tipping her over. Rather than resisting, she let herself fall, moving to dive into the water as the weight pulled her down – keeping her wand drawn with her right hand, while holding on with her left as she sunk very quickly.

Even through the warming charms on her wetsuit, Jasmine could feel the chill touch of the lake as the darkness rose up to greet her.

"Bloody hell this is deep," she muttered after a few seconds, staring downwards in vain, twin beams of light from her head showing nothing but dancing particulates. Knowing in theory how far down the lakebed was located wasn't quite the same as descending to that depth herself.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to her hyperactive mind, but in reality was probably about a minute, the village of the Merpeople came into sight. All around, the small creatures swum about with harsh, animalistic faces, small frames, and octopus-like lower bodies. Guardedly, the ravenette watched them, eyeing the area she was descending towards where four notably human bodies were suspended in the water, apparently sleeping and attached to ropes tethering them to the rocks below. They were guarded by Mermen hefting sharp looking tridents.

As Jasmine descended to be level with the end of the group – nearby a black haired European woman of perhaps eighteen years that she didn't recognise – the guards didn't move to stop her. Warily, she let go of her transfigured weight and levelled her wand at the captives.

"Diffindo!" she practically yelled, putting all the power she could behind the spell. It wavered slightly, and grew outwards as it went further, but the cutter neatly sliced through all four captive's ropes – from the young woman, to a small blonde that bore more than a passing resemblance to Fleur, past Cho Chang, and finally to a familiar Gryffindor. At this, the guards did move slightly, bobbing around a bit, but she didn't wait to see what they would do. With a second wand flick, she incanted a rope into existence, but scowled as it merely flopped lifelessly in the water. With a second attempt, it quickly wrapped itself around first her waist, then those of the captives.

Finally, it seemed, the guards moved to act – likely under orders to prevent the champions taking more than one hostage. The half-dozen of them levelled tridents at her and began swimming frantically towards her, immediately finding themselves facing down the barrel of a pistol drawn in her off hand.

The recoil was dampened by the water as Jasmine fired her first shot at the nearest Merman, a flechette burying itself in his stomach and blood floating around in wisps from him. The second closest dodged her next shot, but got caught in the arm by the one after that. The third, too, moved out of the way, but it was too late for them. "Alveo!" Jasmine declared, her wand tip pressed to the vambrace on her off hand.

Immediately, it and the three other pieces of metal she was wearing mimicked the jet ski she had used earlier, pulling torrents of water from in front and above her to send it gushing backwards, propelling her upwards as she aimed her arms heavenward.

The jolt upon the rope tied about her waist signified her success in dragging the other four with her, and Jasmine willed the runic arrays she had spent hours designing to move faster.

A quick glance down showed the mermen starting pursuit, but a few flechettes from the pistol still clasped in her off-hand discouraged them from following any longer. As Jasmine turned her head back upwards, she was blinded by the plumes of rushing bubbles form her right vambrace – she hadn't thought of that in the design stage – and she could also feel the pull on the wand still grasped in her right hand as the suction attempted to rip it form her grip.

Still, it performed the job required admirably, and she was rushing through the water at quite a pace considering they were dragging the mass of five people.

When finally the water began to lighten, the ravenette couldn't help but grin at the thought of the crowd's faces watching this, especially the organisers who were likely despairing that she had ruined the contest – which was precisely the point of what she'd done. How could the other Champions be given points when they failed to retrieve their hostages?

Finally, she broke onto the surface, and struggled to tap her wand to her left vambrace and end the array's work from keeping her splashing about, before removing her face mask and breathing fresh air once more. It was only when she did that she became aware that much of the splashing was not from herself, but the four captives who had seemingly been revived upon contact with air.

"Merde," chattered the small blonde as she rubbed herself, clearly frozen from the lake waters.

"Bloody hell that's cold," Hermione added, turning blue eyes on Jasmine hopefully. "Would you mind casting a warming charm?" Four quick spells later, and the four visibly relaxed.

"Now, ladies," Jasmine announced as she swam over to her sled that was still floating nearby and hauling herself up onto it – thankful for the charms keeping it upright. "If you would please hold on to the rope carefully, this may be a bit of a bumpy ride."

This time, she twisted her handlebar the other way, letting it click into a the array with one altered rune, which made the craft move a lot slower, and didn't dump huge volumes of water in her passengers' faces. It didn't take long to reach the stands, and the procession was marked by a mix of cheering and booing from various sources in the crowd, and the judges appeared to be deliberating amongst themselves furiously, several looking none-too-pleased.

Still, the ravenette climbed up onto the stand, while helping pull up the four others attached to her rope. As she did, she couldn't help but notice the black cricket-style scoreboard with white lettering and smile. 'No.4 Jasmine Potter 17 mins 34 seconds,' it was stuck on. Not a bad showing, if she did say so herself.

"Eighteen minutes," Hermione commented to her as she untied the rope about her waist while taking the towel one of the organisers gave her gratefully. "Seems the jet-ski worked pretty well."

"Definitely, and you were right about adding a second, slower setting," Jasmine replied as she ran her own towel through her sodden hair. "You know, I thought they'd let you lot change out of your clothes before going into the lake rather than dumping you in in your school uniform."

"So did I; I was going to go get changed, but they stunned me as soon as I agreed to participate," the Gryffindor answered in an annoyed tone. "Still, that's a Galleon you owe me."

"Oh bother," the ravenette frowned, "I really thought they'd use a variant of the Draught of the Living Death or something rather than a spell."

"Er, Miss Potter," the pair turned to see Ludo Bagman shuffling awkwardly on the spot, "you do realise you were only supposed to retrieve your captive, not all of them."

"Oh?" she said in carefully calculated surprise, "it was never made particularly clear if that is so – the clue said to recover what they took, and you yourself said retrieve 'them' at the start of the event, which is oft used as a plural term."

"Yes, well…" he trailed off, before turning around and heading back towards the other judges while muttering.

"It was a little unfair of you," Hermione whispered to her after he was out of hearing distance. "Now the other champions don't stand a chance."

"All's fair in love and war," Jasmine murmured in return, "besides, I didn't break any rules, I just inventively interpreted them." 'And possibly pushed the idea through the Ministry via one of my bought men that the Second Task should be judged more 'fairly' after the previous one, not to mention the campaign in the Gazette.'

"How did you not end up in Slytherin again?"

"Because I'm far too clever to be that obvious."

####################################################################

"Settle down, settle down," Bagman said over the noise of the crowd, and Jasmine fixed her eyes upon him – completely ignoring the dirty looks the other three champions occasionally sent her way. Despite the fact that only Krum and, surprisingly, Diggory had made it to the village, she had made sure all three received nil points. "The judges have reached a decision, after much deliberation, and I'm afraid we must abide by the tournament rules that were set out before the task began or the entire tournament becomes invalid." There were numerous boos from the crowd, mainly from the foreign and Hufflepuff contingents. Bagman was correct, however; once the Task had begun with the agreed upon rules, the Goblet of Fire's contract would enforce those rules and they could not be changed without consequences. "Therefore, we must award forty-two points to Jasmine Potter, while the other champions shall remain on their current scores." He had to physically duck to avoid something someone in the crowd threw at him. "The final Task shall take place on the twenty-fourth of June," he added quickly before scurrying away from the stand.

She could feel the glares from the rankled champions boring into her back, and smiled slightly at her triumph over them. Brains always won out in the end.

A/N: And that's chapter fifteen over and done with – these last two have taken weeks as I've been enormously busy with work, and have been facing calamities due to cowboy builders that have only just been fixed. I'll hopefully have a chapter out for next Monday as usual, but I might not be able to – I really am phenomenally snowed under with my workload, and I'm just hoping I'll have time to get some writing done as I no longer have the buffer of two finished chapters waiting to be uploaded that I had for weeks before chapter 13. If I can't make the deadline, I may be uploading my short and unfinished works/ideas file to my profile in the next chapter's place to tide you over with the collections of things that remain unfinished in my fanfiction folder or are generally not worth posting in another format. Apologies if this is so, but there is nothing I can really do about it I'm afraid. I'd prefer not to place this on hiatus, and I will do my absolute best to keep it going.