Before they knew it -- and before Beth could be sure that Diggory was ready to face it -- the day of the second task arrived.
By eight o'clock in the morning, everybody was at breakfast. By nine, Dumbledore was telling everybody to head down to the lake, which left Beth very relieved -- if they'd been ushered toward the Forbidden Forest, for instance, it would prove that their solution to the riddle was completely wrong, and then Diggory was up a creek.
Beth followed her classmates outside and down the great stone steps. The day was crisp but clear ... still, she didn't envy the champions the task of swimming in these temperatures. Richard caught her as she left the Entrance Hall and pulled her over to an isolated corner of the castle.
"Good news," he said. "Our esteemed President has decided to show up to watch the task. I'll be meeting Jules Rothbard when his coach comes in from Hogsmeade."
Beth thought of Rothbard's grandfatherly girth and smiled. "I couldn't see him on a broomstick."
Richard laughed. "Neither can I, and frankly I wouldn't want to."
"It'll be good to see him, though," Beth went on. "Catch up on news --"
She stopped. Richard's brow furrowed as his attention shifted to something behind Beth. His face twisted a little. "Huh. Look who came by for the Tournament. Haven't you been forbidden from the grounds?"
It was Rita Skeeter.
"Shaw. How pleasant." Rita looked like a fox who's invited a rabbit over for tea. "I do hope your little extracurriculars have paid off -- I've put a substantial bet on Diggory to come out of this one on top."
"Buzz off," Richard snapped.
"Suit yourself," said Rita. She vanished and a large black beetle zipped away.
Richard watched her go. "I honestly hate that person," he said mildly.
"Forget about her," Beth urged. "She can't do anything to us."
"Not without hurting herself, anyway," Richard agreed, somewhat heavily. He patted Beth on the shoulder. "Well, I'm off to pick up our President. We'll try and sit near you, all right? See you soon!"
"See you soon," Beth echoed. If he'd be sitting with the Society, he wouldn't be alone with Gypsy. Her mood instantly brightened. She went to join Bruce, Melissa and Mervin on the other side of the grounds.
The excitement over the start of the task was, if anything, even more terrific than it had been at the first task. The Support Cedric Diggory badges were mostly gone, now that Potter had come back into favor, but the Hufflepuffs all wore yellow, and an enormous banner stretched across their section of the stands: "WE KNOW YOU CAN DO IT, CEDRIC!"
Beth and her friends settled into the stands near the rest of the Slytherins. The crowds were enormous; the chatter and cheer was catching. A skinny, young-looking wizard in a Ministry cloak was strolling up and down the aisles, crying, "Programs! Get yer programs! Best thing you can buy for three Sickles!"
"You can get a two-pack of Cauldron Cakes for three Sickles," Bruce pointed out, but Melissa squealed, "Oh good, just like at the World Cup!" and forked over enough silver for each of them to have their own.
Each "program" was a rolled-up parchment with a gold tassel. Beth unrolled hers and looked down. Words erupted onto the paper:
to the Second Task
of the
One Hundred and Third Quintannual
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!
The words faded out dramatically and a picture appeared on the paper. As it hove into focus it became Fleur Delacour, tossing her silver hair and beaming.
"From Beauxbatons Academy: Fleur Marie Delacour!" crowed the parchment. The photo of Fleur winked and threw a kiss at Bruce, who blushed furiously.
The picture faded out and was replaced with Cedric Diggory, waving and smiling gallantly and looking every inch the golden boy that everyone said he was.
"From Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Cedric Euphrates Diggory!" the parchment read.
Beside her, Mervin sniggered and nudged Beth in the ribs. "Euphrates."
"Your middle name's Pyrrhus," Beth pointed out, and Mervin silenced.
Viktor Krum did not have a middle name. He scowled up from the photograph as if longing to turn his head to the side. He looked grateful as his photo faded out to be replaced with a rather bewildered-looking picture of Potter, who grinned nervously in a way that said he was wondering exactly what he was doing there.
"Also from Hogwarts," announced the parchment, "Harry James Potter!"
Melissa let out a snort. "Look at that," she said, leaning over Bruce to point at Beth's program. "They've made the tail of the P look like a lightning bolt."
Potter's photograph faded and a black-and-white image began to form on the page. It took a few minutes for Beth to recognize the lake; it was tilted slightly differently than it had been in their map, and with unmarked features that she hadn't remembered seeing before. On one edge of the lake were three tiny dots, one each of blue, red, and yellow, and they moved around restlessly at the corner of the lake. Beth pointed them out to Mervin.
"They're the contestants," he said, motioning to the lake. Fleur, Cedric and Viktor milled around the judges' table, giving each other nervous smiles or pats on the shoulder. "Blue for Beauxbatons, see? Red for Durmstrang. I guess Diggory gets yellow for Hufflepuff."
"So where is Potter?" asked Beth, turning her program from side to side. "He's not on here."
"Who cares?" said Mervin and Bruce simultaneously.
"Well well!" came a jolly voice from behind them. "What's this, young Slytherins, eh?"
Beth turned around to see a bald, round-faced man with a wide white moustache beaming down on them: Jules Rothbard, president of the Society. Richard was at his side.
"The best and brightest, sir," said Richard cheerily. "Mind if we sit behind you?"
"No, please," said Melissa, eyes shining. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Rothbard." Beth grinned. If there was one thing Melissa enjoyed, it was schmoozing with famous or powerful wizards.
Rothbard let out a grunt as he settled himself onto the bleachers behind them. "Good to see you all looking well," he boomed cheerily. His eyes fell on Beth's bandaged arm. "But what happened to your arm, my dear?"
"Oh." Beth glanced at the bandages and flushed. "Poison iv-- I mean, I burned it."
The crowd around them began to whoop and cheer. The Slytherins looked around for the source of the racket. Suddenly Bruce reached over and clamped his hands over Beth's eyes.
"Don't look!" he ordered, in a hushed, scandalized whisper.
"What?" said Beth, pulling at his hands. "What?"
"Well well," said Melissa appreciatively. "Quidditch done well for him, hasn't it?"
Beth peeked through Bruce's fingers in time to see Viktor Krum remove the last of his robes and walk back to the judges' table in his swimming trunks. He was hunched over, as usual, but it couldn't belie the fact that he was a skinny but very well-built young man -- or, as Antigone would say later, "a beautiful piece of man-meat." She whistled cheerfully. Bruce was positively appalled.
Krum, looking furtive, slunk away from the crowd. Beth once more reflected on how different he was when he was around his classmates, instead of in the spotlight. In a small group, he wasn't afraid to smile ... in front of a large one, he hardly even dared to look up.
Once again the audience began to laugh and chatter. A small, dark figure came hurtling across the grounds, sprinted around the opposite edge of the lake, and dashed up to the judges' table. It was Potter. He gasped out an apology to the judges and bent over with his hands on his knees, thin chest heaving with exertion.
"Bugger," said Bruce emphatically. "I was hoping he'd get disqualified."
"He's in more danger this way," said Mervin, with a kind of hope.
Ludo Bagman's voice burst over the noise of the crowd and everyone looked toward the judges' booth. The champions were spaced along the bank of the river. "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One ... two ... three!"
On his whistle, the crowd erupted into applause.
Viktor was the first to move. He bent his legs and dove headfirst into the lake, cutting cleanly through the surface of the water. The place where he had disappeared began to bubble and churn ... Beth caught glimpses of a shark's fin, a long black snout, and a pair of pale skinny legs before the ripples calmed and all traces of Viktor had vanished.
She gaped at the empty water. "Well -- how are we supposed to know what he's doing?" Beth demanded.
"Look at your program!" said Melissa distractedly. "That's what it's there for!"
Beth unrolled her program again. The three dots representing the contestants had shifted, and been joined by a black dot that presumably represented Potter. The red dot was rapidly changing position on the map, leaving the shore behind him. A rolling script across the bottom of the program read:
Beth watched, fascinated, as the blue and yellow dots also began to move into the lake, away from dry land. The script changed again.
Beth snorted back a laugh. "She doesn't need to cast a charm to be a bubble-head," she commented to Melissa, who giggled.
Bruce interrupted by beating at their sleeves excitedly. "He's done it! Look, he did it right!"
Only Cedric's head was visible above the waves; the bubble that encased his head was clear and round, leaving his features looking stretched. He sank below the waves with hardly a ripple.
Potter wasn't nearly as graceful. He waded in to his ankles, stuffed something in his mouth, and a moment later flopped forward like a beached fish. The audience laughed as he wriggled into deeper water and disappeared.
"D'you think Cedric's going to live through this one?" Bruce asked reflectively.
"Maybe," said Mervin. "Have a chocolate frog?"
It was very nice to sit among friends and munch on snacks from Honeyduke's while enjoying the view of the lake. The surface of the lake gave away nothing about what was going on beneath it; the programs, however, were extremely informative. Not only did the moving map display the contestants' locations, but the rolling script along the bottom gave a running commentary of the interesting events. The audience reacted as if they were actually watching. Beth was able to amuse herself for several minutes by keeping her eyes closed and listening to the cheers and gasps of the crowd as they read the action in unison.
Fleur Delacour was mired for several minutes in some Grappling Seaweed; she eventually had to numb nearly every strand individually before she could break free. Cedric Diggory took a wrong turn right at the beginning ("Isn't he even looking at our map?" said Melissa in despair) and continued in an uncertain zigzag for most of the first half-hour.
Everybody but Viktor got attacked by Grindylows; obviously his half-shark visage was grotesque enough to keep them at bay.
The programs were certainly fascinating ... but after almost an hour, not one of the contestants had returned with their captive. In fact, the map showed that none of them were even very close to finding them. The audience became restless. Rothbard leaned forward to chat with the Slytherin sixth-years.
"Shaw here's been telling me what you're doing with Diggory, and I just want to say that I think it's a fine idea." His wide white moustache twitched with good humor. "Not exactly standard conduct for the Society, mind, but it's best to keep busy, and you may yet learn something about the way the old Huffles think, eh?"
"Hufflepuffs think?" said Mervin, surprised.
Mr. Rothbard joined in with a deep belly laugh. "Occasionally, my dear boy. In any case, Diggory had better do some thinking right now -- and fast, too." He tapped the clock at the bottom of the program. It showed that the contestants had only two more minutes to retrieve their captives.
"Mr. Rothbard," said Bruce, "how is Bernard Humphries?"
Rothbard looked startled for a moment; then he relaxed and let out a short chuckle. "Ah, Grubbs must have told you," he said knowingly. Bruce nodded. "Loves a good gossip, that woman. The truth is, old Bernard is in fine shape -- he knew me well enough when I went to visit him in St. Mungo's! He seems to have forgotten entirely that he ever went into the Riddle House, but I assure you, that is the extent of the damage."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Bruce, sounding extremely relieved.
Richard still seemed puzzled. "Why would anyone modify a memory so little?" he said. "If his attacker was able to get in one spell, he could've obliviated everything -- or even killed him. Why stop short?"
Rothbard shrugged his shoulders jovially. "Who can fathom the criminal mind, old sport? I say --!" He pointed down at the lake. "One of the champions has finally returned!"
One of the champions had returned -- but not willingly. Fleur Delacour, kicking and screaming, was hoisted above the water by hundreds of long-fingered hands and hurled unceremoniously to the shore. She landed on her side in the mud. Immediately, she sprang to her feet and charged back into the water, only to be repelled by the creatures whenever she got a few yards out into the water.
Melissa trained her Omnioculars on the hands. "Grindylows," she breathed. "Ugh, there are scores of them ..."
Fleur looked a real mess. Her robes and hair were strewn with seaweed; her robes had been torn and every time she was beaten back by the Grindylows, she came away with more and more scratches on her face and arm. Finally Madame Maxime, looking stricken, emerged from the judges' booth and pulled her away from the shoreline. The Grindylows retreated.
A pair of heads broke above the waves, several yards from shore: It was Cedric Diggory, with Cho Chang clinging to him. They began to swim in and the crowds went wild with cheers. The Hufflepuffs put their heads together and hastily changed their banner: "WE KNEW YOU COULD DO IT, CEDRIC!"
The two of them clambered to shore and were instantly snatched up by Madame Pomfrey, who swathed them in blankets and forced steaming potions down their throats. She had hardly finished tending to them when the crowd began to roar anew. A shark's head emerged far out in the lake and swiftly transformed back into Viktor Krum. He had Hermione Granger around the waist. She seemed to come to life as her head broke the water; she moved away from Viktor and swam to shore beside him.
None of this soothed Fleur Delacour, who was still throwing herself toward the water with a hysterical fervor. "Gabrielle! Did you see 'er?" She was no match for Madame Maxime, however, and remained firmly within her headmistress's broad arms.
Viktor and his captive were wading out of the lake when another great roar broke from the audience. Not two, but three heads appeared in the center of the lake.
"Potter's back," Bruce observed dejectedly.
"Bugger," said Mervin. "Want a cauldron cake?"
Pretty much everyone else was on their feet by this time, screaming with excitement, for more heads were popping up all around Potter and the others -- weird ones, green-brown and scaly faces with kelp-wild hair. Many of them carried tridents and crude spears. Moreover, the creatures were singing ... well, screeching anyways, sounding much like Cedric's golden egg or (Beth remembered with a shudder) the Parsimmer family banshee. The whole strange entourage moved toward the shores and the land-dwellers clambered out onto the banks.
Madame Maxime finally released Fleur Delacour, who went tumbling into the shallows to embrace her sister. Half of the judges were now clustered around Potter; Dumbledore and Bagman were hauling Potter out of the water, while Percy Weasley fussed over his brother and Maxime hovered over Fleur and her sister like a gigantic mother hen.
Cedric was looking around at the wildly cheering crowds. He caught sight of the S.S.A; his eyes narrowed for a moment and he turned away, back to where Cho Chang was trying to wring out her long black hair.
"Some gratitude," snorted Melissa. "After all we did to help ..."
Richard leaned in from behind them. "That doesn't matter," he said. "He's alive."
"Two down, one to go," said Beth, watching Hermione Granger brush something out of her bushy hair.
Dumbledore stood up from the lake's edge, where he had been conversing with one of the lake creatures -- merfolk, Beth realized. He turned to the other judges and said in a voice loud enough to be heard in the stands, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."
The stands quieted down to a rumbling whisper as everyone tried to figure out what the judges were talking about. While the judges deliberated, Madame Pomfrey tended to her patients with a kind of ferocity. The champions -- and now four innocent bystanders -- had been put through such dangerous situations that she was clearly wondering what Dumbledore had been thinking when he'd agreed to revive the Triwizard Tournament.
Finally the judges broke apart. Ludo Bagman, once more with his magically-enhanced announcer voice, called out over the quieting crowd:
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftaness Murcus --"
"I have a cousin named Murcus," said Mervin Fletcher.
"-- has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows ...
"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."
Fleur shook her head and held her sister closer.
"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."
The Hufflepuff section went collectively nuts.
"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."
Viktor didn't seem to notice the applause until Hermione Granger began to clap; then he went pink as a posie and ducked his head.
"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftaness informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges --" Bagman shot a dirty look at Karkaroff, who curled his goatee imperiously, "-- feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However ... Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."
The audience reaction showed all too clearly that Harry Potter was back in the favor of the masses.
"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," Mr. Bagman went on. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."
Richard calculated quickly. "That gives us three months off!" he said, looking intensely relieved.
"And well deserved," Rothbard boomed. "Take a rest, Shaw -- you look like you could use it!"
"Oh ..." Richard let out a nervous laugh. "I have a few things to take care of before I take a rest."
"Don't overdo yourself," Rothbard winked. He heaved himself from the bleachers with a grunt, as the audience began to stand and stretch. The S.S.A. joined the crowd of students and spectators that slowly made its way out of the bleachers.
"That was worth the afternoon," came a voice from nearby.
Evan Wilkes had appeared among them. "You could've skipped it," said Richard, looking, as always, a bit irritated with the Society's least-sociable member.
"Mr. Rothbard," said Evan abruptly, "do you think the Dark Lord will rise again?"
Rothbard's eyes flicked from Evan's face to the bandages on Beth's arm and back so quickly that his head didn't move. "Wilkes, are you?" He let out a great belly laugh. "I certainly don't know. Why are you asking me?"
"You're our President," said Evan coolly. "You're supposed to know what's going on."
Rothbard turned to Richard, who shrugged apologetically, and returned to Evan. "I know about my Society," he said, frowning slightly, "not the status of the Dark Lord."
"Funny," said Evan, "I thought they were related."
Rothbard opened his mouth to speak; but Evan whisked away and vanished into the crowd. The Society President let out a short chortle. "I say ... he's a ... a cynical sort of chap, isn't he?"
"He is indeed," Richard agreed. "There should be coaches bound for Hogsmeade, Mr. Rothbard, you can Apparate home from there ... let me take you to them."
The two made their way around the lake and down the path to the gates of Hogwarts. Beth glanced back into the crowd; Evan had detached himself again and now leaned against one of the posts of the bleachers, watching the Presidents with sharp disinterest. He is cynical, thought Beth, but there is more to him than that.
The task had been so early in the day that it was only noon by the time everyone trudged back into the castle. The house elves had a piping-hot turkey dinner already set out on the long tables in the Great Hall; enthusiastically the students segregated and took their seats. Fleur and her little sister sat with the Ravenclaws; Cho Chang, it was noticed, had forsaken her house in favor of a seat beside Diggory at the Hufflepuff table. Hermione Granger had fled back to the Gryffindors, leaving Viktor among his classmates and Slytherins. He didn't seem upset at having lost the lead in the tournament. If anything, sitting there with dry clothes but damp hair, piling food onto his plate, he looked happier.
"I can't believe it," Bruce said cheerfully, plunking down beside Viktor as if they had been friends for a decade. "The thing you'd miss most is a Gryffindor."
"Vell, it certainly vasn't you," Viktor grinned, robbing Bruce of his dinner roll.
"I'm just shocked that it wasn't Karkaroff," Gypsy teased. "The way you two get on ..."
"Vhy not me?" Josef interrupted, slinging an arm around Viktor's shoulders.
"You I vould haff left at the bottom of the lake," said Viktor, spooning himself a huge pile of mashed potatoes. He draped the whole ensemble with gravy. "And vould haff been thanked for it."
"No, you wouldn't," Beth joined in, with a grin. "The merfolk would have killed you."
Everyone laughed and Josef did his best to look insulted.
"Of course, it is a shame," came the drawling voice from further down the table. Draco Malfoy had almost as big a retinue as Viktor.
"What's a shame, Draco?" Pansy urged him.
"Dreadful pity," Draco said languidly. "All three of them down there, and none of them had the decency to drown."
Draco's courtiers laughed. Viktor didn't look like he thought it was funny.
