26. The Second Task

Fire And Water

"You said you'd already worked out that egg clue!" said Hermione indignantly.

"Keep your voice down!" said Harry crossly. "I just need to - sort of fine-tune it, all right?"

He, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at the very back of the Charms class with a table to themselves. They were supposed to be practicing the opposite of the Summoning Charm today - the Banishing Charm. Owing to the potential for nasty accidents when objects kept flying across the room. Professor Flitwick had given each student a stack of cushions on which to practice, the theory being that these wouldn't hurt anyone if they went off target. It was a good theory, but it wasn't working very well. Neville's aim was so poor that he kept accidentally sending much heavier things flying across the room - Professor Flitwick, for instance.

"Just forget the egg for a minute, all right?" Harry hissed as Professor Flitwick went whizzing resignedly past them, landing on top of a large cabinet. "I'm trying to tell you about Snape and Moody. ..."

This class was an ideal cover for a private conversation, as everyone was having far too much fun to pay them any attention. Harry had been recounting his adventures of the previous night in whispered installments for the last half hour.

"Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?" Ron whispered, his eyes alight with interest as he Banished a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it soared into the air and knocked Parvati's hat off). "What. . . d'you reckon Moody's here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?"

"Well, I dunno if that's what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he's definitely doing it,"said Harry, waving his wand without paying much attention, so that his cushion did an odd sort of belly flop off the desk. "Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he's giving him a second chance or something. ..."

"What?" said Ron, his eyes widening, his next cushion spinning high into the air, ricocheting off the chandelier, and dropping heavily onto Flitwick's desk. "Harry...maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!"

"Oh Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head sceptically, "we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?"

She Banished a cushion and it flew across the room and landed in the box they were all supposed to be aiming at. Harry looked at Hermione, thinking...it was true that Snape had saved his life once, but the odd thing was, Snape definitely loathed him, just as he'd loathed Harry's father when they had been at school together. Snape loved taking points from Harry, and had certainly never missed an opportunity to give him punishments, or even to suggest that he should be suspended from the school.

"I don't care what Moody says," Hermione went on. "Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a bit -"

"- evil," said Ron promptly. "Come on, Hermione, why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his office, then?"

"Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?" said Hermione, ignoring Ron. "It's a bit funny, isn't it, that he can't manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?"

"You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky," said Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the window.

"You just want to think Snape's up to something," said Hermione, sending her cushion zooming neatly into the box.

"Burn." Lillica muttered from in front of them, turning around in her chair to look at them. "Sorry, couldn't help overhearing - it's a habit of mine." Hermione and Ron stared at her. She shrugged. "Dad once said that his Mum encouraged eavesdropping. Said it was a good way to pick up useful information."

Both Ron and Hermione nodded.

"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he's on his second one,"said Harry grimly, and his cushion, to his very great surprise, flew straight across the room and landed neatly on top of Hermione's.


Obedient to Sirius's wish of hearing about anything odd at Hogwarts, Harry sent him a letter by brown owl that night, explaining all about Mr. Crouch breaking into Snape's office, and Moody and Snape's conversation. Then Harry turned his attention in earnest to the most urgent problem facing him: how to survive underwater for an hour on the twenty-fourth of February.

Ron quite liked the idea of using the Summoning Charm again - Harry had explained about Aqua-Lungs, and Ron couldn't see why Harry shouldn't Summon one from the nearest Muggle town. Hermione squashed this plan by pointing out that, in the unlikely event that Harry managed to learn how to operate an Aqua-Lung within the set limit of an hour, he was sure to be disqualified for breaking the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy - it was too much to hope that no Muggles would spot an Aqua-Lung zooming across the countryside to Hogwarts.

"Of course, the ideal solution would be for you to Transfigure yourself into a submarine or something," Hermione said. "If only we'd done human Transfiguration already! But I don't think we start that until sixth year, and it can go badly wrong if you don't know what you're doing..."

"Yeah, I don't fancy walking around with a periscope sticking out of my head," said Harry. "I s'pose I could always attack someone in front of Moody; he might do it for me..."

"I don't think he'd let you choose what you wanted to be turned into, though," said Hermione seriously. "No, I think your best chance is some sort of charm."

So Harry, thinking that he would soon have had enough of the library to last him a lifetime, buried himself once more among the dusty volumes, looking for any spell that might enable a human to survive without oxygen. However, though he, Ron, and Hermione searched through their lunchtimes, evenings, and whole weekends - though Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a note of permission to use the Restricted Section, and even asked the irritable, vulture-like librarian. Madam Pince, for help - they found nothing whatsoever that would enable Harry to spend an hour underwater and live to tell the tale.

Familiar flutterings of panic were starting to disturb Harry now, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate in class again. The lake, which Harry had always taken for granted as just another feature of the grounds, drew his eyes whenever he was near a classroom window, a great, iron-gray mass of chilly water, whose dark and icy depths were starting to seem as distant as the moon.


Just as it had before he faced the Horntail, time was slipping away as though somebody had bewitched the clocks to go extra-fast. There was a week to go before February the twenty-fourth (there was still time) . . . there were five days to go (he was bound to find something soon) .. . three days to go (please let me find something... please). . .

With two days left. Harry started to go off food again. The only good thing about breakfast on Monday was the return of the brown owl he had sent to Sirius. He pulled off the parchment, unrolled it, and saw the shortest letter Sirius had ever written to him.

Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.

Harry turned the parchment over and looked at the back, hoping to see something else, but it was blank.

"Weekend after next," whispered Hermione, who had read the note over Harry's shoulder.

"Here - take my quill and send this owl back straight away."

Harry scribbled the dates down on the back of Sirius's letter, tied it onto the brown owl's leg, and watched it take flight again. What had he expected? Advice on how to survive underwater? He had been so intent on telling Sirius all about Snape and Moody he had completely forgotten to mention the eggs clue.

"What's he want to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend for?" said Ron.

"Dunno," said Harry dully. The momentary happiness that had flared inside him at the sight of the owl had died. "Come on...Care of Magical Creatures."

Whether Hagrid was trying to make up for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, or because there were now only two skrewts left, or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could, or because Emma seemed to be wanting to do all that she could to encourage Hagrid to stay, Harry didn't know, but Hagrid had been continuing Professor Grubbly-Plank's lessons on unicorns ever since he'd returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing. Lillica and Teddy confirmed that their mother had befriended Silverstorm the unicorn back in her own Hogwarts days, and that Emma was definitely encouraging Hagrid with continuing the unicorn lessons.

Today, Emma and Hagrid had managed to capture two unicorn foals, and Emma stood on the outskirts and was allowed to observe the lesson. Unlike full-grown unicorns, the foals were pure gold. Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them, and even Pansy Parkinson had to work hard to conceal how much she liked them.

"Easier ter spot than the adults," Hagrid told the class. "They turn silver when they're abou' two years old, an' they grow horns at aroun four. Don' go pure white till they're full grown, 'round about seven. They're a bit more trustin when they're babies .. . don mind boys so much... C'mon, move in a bit, yeh can pat 'em if yeh want. . . give 'em a few o' these sugar lumps. . . . "

"It's very rare for unicorns to have twins," Harry heard Teddy say. "It's usually a case where one or both foals die, and sometimes you'll lose all three. Mum said that the mare - Snowsong - is doing fine, though." She added, and many people - including a number of her fellow Slytherins - looked impressed.

"Did she name the foals, too?" Malfoy asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Teddy gave him a cool look. "She's thinking of something with 'sugar' in it." She told him, just as one of the foals grabbed the sugar cube out of Malfoy's hand, making him jump. Teddy giggled. "Most likely for that one..."

The Gryffindors laughed, and even a few Slytherins smiled.

"You okay, Harry?" Hagrid muttered, moving aside slightly, while most of the others swarmed around the baby unicorns.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Jus' nervous, eh?" said Hagrid.

"Bit," said Harry. He noticed that his godmother was watching them.

"Harry," said Hagrid, clapping a massive hand on his shoulder, so that Harry's knees buckled under its weight, "I'd've bin worried before I saw yeh take on tha Horntail, but I know now yeh can do anythin' yeh set yer mind ter. I'm not worried at all. Yeh're goin ter be fine. Got yer clue worked out, haven' yeh?"

Harry nodded, but even as he did so, an insane urge to confess that he didn't have any idea how to survive at the bottom of the lake for an hour came over him. He looked up at Hagrid - perhaps he had to go into the lake sometimes, to deal with the creatures in it? He looked after everything else on the grounds, after all...

"Yeh're goin' ter win," Hagrid growled, patting Harry's shoulder again, so that Harry actually felt himself sink a couple of inches into the soft ground. "I know it. I can feel it. Yeh're goin' ter win, Harry."

Harry just couldn't bring himself to wipe the happy, confident smile off Hagrid's he was interested in the young unicorns, he forced a smile in return, and moved forward to pat them with the others. He could still feel his godmother's eyes on him, though, as the sugar-loving unicorn foal neighed shrilly in demand of more sugar...


The day after their Care Of Magical Creatures class with the twin unicorn foals, something very interesting happened.

"What's going on?" Hermione wondered, as they found a huge crowd blocking the staircase in the Entrance Hall.

"Hermione!" Faye Dunbar called to her. "You won't believe it!" She waved them over.

"Won't believe what?" Ron asked, but Faye didn't appear to have been talking to him.

She said to Hermione: "You know the man in the picture that Lillica showed us? Of her Mum's old Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor?"

"C-Carmichael Ackerly?" Hermione responded, turning slightly pink. "Y-yes?"

"Well, it turns out that he's Fleur Delacour's Uncle and he's here!" Faye exclaimed.

That was when Harry noticed that most of the people who were crowding around the stairs looking down into the Entrance Hall were girls.

Pushing their way through the crowd, mostly in order to try and get down to breakfast before noon, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally made it to the stairs and looked down.

They easily spotted Fleur Delacour (Ron tried to hide behind Harry as they made their way down the stairs). She was looking even more radiant than ever (if that were possible) and talking very quickly to the two people that she was with, in what Harry recognised as French.

One of those two people was Harry's godmother, who was looking quite embarrassed by something and kept on shaking her head in disbelief.

"— quand Fluer a dit petite amie . . . " Emma was saying. Her face looked flushed.

"Mon oncle," Fleur said. "N'était-elle qu'une bonne amie?"

Harry watched as the man standing next to Emma laughed softly and shook his head. "Non, juste une vieille connaissance." He said, before he put a hand on Emma's shoulder in a relaxed sort of way.

Emma blushed even more at this gesture, however, and it was absolutely obvious why.

If Fleur was one quarter Veela, then her Uncle must be half Veela - because, there was no way that this man wasn't on the side of the family with the Veela. Up until this point, Harry would have been confused if someone had told him that it was possible to translate a Veela's feminine beauty into a man without making him look like, well, a woman. But Carmichael Ackerly, with his long silvery blonde hair, deep blue eyes (that matched his robes perfectly), and perfect smile, cleared up that confusion for Harry. He could even understand why half of the female population at Hogwarts was acting the way that they were, although the sixth year Ravenclaw girl who fainted might've been taking things a bit too far.

"They're ssso much worssse than they were lassst time he wasss here," the soft voice of Septimus the snake hissed from the windowsill beside where Harry was leaning, waiting for Hermione to finish helping Emma and Ackerly revive the fainted Ravenclaw girl (Ron had disappeared into the Great Hall, for fear of making eye contact with Fleur Delacour, who was hovering anxiously nearby). "Of courssse, it'sss mainly jussst the onesss who aren't in a relationssship..." The snake added.

"Then, why isss Emma acting like that?" Harry wanted to know, as Ackerly said something to Emma who nodded and blushed in response.

"Oh, ssshe'sss not taken by him, if that'sss what you're thinking, Ssson Of Jamesss," Septimus responded calmly, shaking his head. "No, not in that way at all." He regarded Harry with his unreadable black eyes. "Did you sssee that ssspell that ssshe usssed to ssset fire to that reporter cow'sss article a few weeksss ago?"

Harry couldn't help but grin, although he wondered what that had to do with anything, as he recalled Emma's wand movements (almost too fast to see) and the gold and white flames.

"That ssspell isss called Flamma," Septimus informed him. "It isss a heat-basssed ssspell, ssso the flamesss are extremely hot. They even work underwater. Flamma isss in a group of ssspellsss that are highly ussseful if you can ussse them, highly devessstating if they hit, and he," he jabbed his head in the direction of Ackerly. "Accccccidentally taught her how to do the mossst dangerousss one of them all."

Trying to ignore the dangerous part, Harry asked Septimus: "What do you mean 'if you can ussse them'?"

"Well, you either can or you can't," Septimus looked like he would have shrugged if he could. "You have to be born with it. I guesssss it'sss a bit like being a Parssslemouth."

"Err, if you sssay ssso..." Harry wasn't sure that he should be comparing the ability to talk with snakes to being able to create brilliant gold and white flames. "Ssso, Ackerly taught Emma that ssspell?"

"Michele Violetta, or Carmichael Ackerly asss he'sss known here," Septimus looked across the Entrance Hall. "May not have intended to teach her that ssspell that he desssigned," he hissed, and Harry was even more impressed - Ackerly had created that spell on his own? "Perhapsss...it wasss the other one'sss will...but, know thisss, Ssson Of Jamesss..." They watched as Teddy and Lillica descended the stairs, with Lillica looking like she was trying not to run up to meet her mother's extremely good-looking old Professor. "Had he not, then Emma would not have been able to sssave the life of the man that ssshe married...ssshe may even have lossst her own. Her own Sssecond Tasssk wasss jussst practiccce for the real life or death sssituation that arossse jussst over twelve monthsss later. And, ssso, that isss why ssshe isss the way that ssshe isss with thisss man, even dessspite their...other connectionsss." He added, as Fleur looked up, spotted Lillica, and the two girls eyed each other warily. "And why we have Teddy Aliccce Brunilda Black and Lillica Carmen Apolline Black here..."

"Ssseptimusss!" Teddy hissed angrily, appearing by Harry's left elbow. "What are you doing, telling everyone our middle namesss?!"

"Who can hear what we're talking about but you, me, Lillica, and Emma?" Harry asked her, as Septimus tried his best to look innocent.

"Yes, who indeed, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore smiled as he walked by them, heading towards his former employee with a welcoming smile.


By the evening before the second task, Harry felt as though he were trapped in a nightmare. He was fully aware that even if, by some miracle, he managed to find a suitable spell, he'd have a real job mastering it overnight. How could he have let this happen? Why hadn't he got to work on the egg's clue sooner? Why had he ever let his mind wander in class - what if a teacher had once mentioned how to breathe underwater?

It was just too bad that the only spell he had heard of that worked underwater was for making fire underwater - useful, but, it wouldn't help him to breathe.

He sat with Hermione and Ron in the library as the sun set outside, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, hidden from one another by the massive piles of books on the desk in front of each of them. Harry's heart gave a huge leap every time he saw the word "water" on a page, but more often than not it was merely 'Take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt...' Which made him think of what the portrait of Queenie had said, which only further served to remind him that he needed to find something.

"I don't reckon it can be done," said Ron's voice flatly from the other side of the table. "There's nothing. Nothing. Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake."

"There must be something," Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired she was poring over the tiny print of Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes with her nose about an inch from the page. "If they could do it before, in 1978...they wouldn't have set an impossible task, anyway..."

"They have," said Ron. "Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out. I'll bet that's how Emma did it back then."

"There's a way of doing it!" Hermione said crossly. "There just has to be!"

She seemed to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.

"I know what I should have done," said Harry, resting, face-down, on Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts. "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Emma and Sirius."

"Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!" said Ron.

"Or a frog," yawned Harry. He was exhausted.

"It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything," said Hermione vaguely, now squinting down the index of Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. "Professor McGonagall told us, remember... you've got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office ...what animal you become, and your markings, so you can't abuse it..."

"Hermione, I was joking," said Harry wearily. "I know I haven't got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning..."

"Oh this is no use," Hermione said, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," said Fred Weasley's voice. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves.

"Pretty sure Lillica would come at you with a pair of scissors if you tried." Ron said mildly. "What're you two doing here, anyway?" He added.

"Looking for you," said George. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione."

"Why?" said Hermione, looking surprised.

"Dunno ... she was looking a bit grim, though," said Fred.

"We're supposed to take you down to her office," said George.

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, who felt his stomach drop. Was Professor McGonagall about to tell Ron and Hermione off? Perhaps she'd noticed how much they were helping him, when he ought to be working out how to do the task alone? It wasn't like they were judges or anything...

"We'll meet you back in the common room," Hermione told Harry as she got up to go with Ron - both of them looked very anxious. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"

"Right," said Harry uneasily.


By eight o'clock. Madam Pince had extinguished all the lamps and came to chivvy Harry out of the library. Staggering under the weight of as many books as he could carry, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, pulled a table into a corner, and continued to search. There was nothing in Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks. . . nothing in A Guide to Medieval Sorcery . . . not one mention of underwater exploits in An Anthology of Eighteenth-Century Charms, or in Dreadful Denizens of the Deep, or Powers You Never Knew You Had And What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up.

Crookshanks crawled into Harrys lap and curled up, purring deeply. The common room emptied slowly around Harry. People kept wishing him luck for the next morning in cheery, confident voices like Hagrid s, all of them apparently convinced that he was about to pull off another stunning performance like the one he had managed in the first task. Harry couldn't answer them, he just nodded, feeling as though there were a golfball stuck in his throat. By ten to midnight, he was alone in the room with Crookshanks. He had searched all the remaining books, and Ron and Hermione had not come back.

It's over, he told himself. You can't do it. You'll just have to go down to the lake in the morning and tell the judges...

He imagined himself explaining that he couldn't do the task. He pictured Bagman's look of round-eyed surprise, Karkaroff's satisfied, yellow-toothed smile. He could almost hear Fleur Delacour saying "I knew it. . . 'e is too young, 'e is only a little boy." He saw Malfoy flashing his POTTER STINKS badge at the front of the crowd, saw Hagrid's crestfallen, disbelieving face. . . .

He pictured Emma being told that she should have helped him more...

Forgetting that Crookshanks was on his lap. Harry stood up very suddenly; Crookshanks hissed angrily as he landed on the floor, gave Harry a disgusted look, and stalked away with his bottlebrush tail in the air, but Harry was already hurrying up the spiral staircase to his dormitory. ... He would grab the Invisibility Cloak and go back to the library, he'd stay there all night if he had to. ...

"Lumos," Harry whispered fifteen minutes later as he opened the library door.

Wand tip alight, he crept along the bookshelves, pulling down more books - books of hexes and charms, books on merpeople and water monsters, books on famous witches and wizards, on magical inventions, on anything at all that might include one passing reference to underwater survival. He carried them over to a table, then set to work, searching them by the narrow beam of his wand, occasionally checking his watch. . . .

One in the morning. . . two in the morning . . . the only way he could keep going was to tell himself, over and over again, next book. . . in the next one. . . the next one. . .

The mermaid in the painting in the prefects' bathroom was laughing. Harry was bobbing like a cork in bubbly water next to her rock, while she held his Firebolt over his head.

"Come and get it!" she giggled maliciously. "Come on, jump!"

"I can't," Harry panted, snatching at the Firebolt, and struggling not to sink. "Give it to me!"

But she just poked him painfully in the side with the end of the broomstick, laughing at him.

"That hurts - get off- ouch -"

Queenie was standing there, dressed all in purple, holding a lizard and a Slytherin scarf, and saying: "It works underwater, hon!"

"Are you talking to me or to her?!"

"Harry Potter must wake up, sir!"

"Stop poking me -"

"Dobby must poke Harry Potter, sir, he must wake up!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was still in the library; the Invisibility Cloak had slipped off his head as he'd slept, and the side of his face was stuck to the page about Selmas in Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them. He sat up, straightening his glasses, blinking in the bright daylight.

"Harry Potter needs to hurry!" squeaked Dobby, tossing aside the copy of Where There's a Wand, There's a Way that he had been using to prod Harry awake with. "The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter -"

"Ten minutes?" Harry croaked. "Ten - ten minutes?"

He looked down at his watch. Dobby was right. It was twenty past nine. A large, dead weight seemed to fall through Harry's chest into his stomach.

"Hurry, Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, plucking at Harry's sleeve. "You is supposed to be down by the lake with the other champions, sir!"

"It's too late, Dobby," Harry said hopelessly. "I'm not doing the task, I don't know how-"

"Harry Potter will do the task!" squeaked the elf. "Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!"

"What?" said Harry. "But you don't know what the second task is -"

"Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy -"

"Find my what?"

"- and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!"

"What's a Wheezy?"

"Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy-Wheezy who is giving Dobby his sweater!" Dobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts.

"What?" Harry gasped. "They've got. . . they've got Ron?"

"The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!" squeaked Dobby. "'But past an hour-'"

"- 'the prospect's black,'" Harry recited, staring, horror-struck, at the elf. " 'Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.' Dobby - what've I got to do?"

"You has to eat this, sir!" s queaked the elf, and he put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails. "Right before you go into the lake, sir - gillyweed!"

"What's it do?" said Harry, staring at the gillyweed.

"It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!"

"Dobby," said Harry frantically, "listen - are you sure about this?"

He couldn't quite forget that the last time Dobby had tried to "help" him, he had ended up with no bones in his right arm.

"Dobby is quite sure, sir!" said the elf earnestly. "Dobby hears things, sir, he is a house-elf, he goes all over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the floors. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staffroom, talking about the next task. . . . Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Wheezy!"

Harrys doubts vanished. Jumping to his feet he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffed it into his bag, grabbed the gillyweed, and put it into his pocket, then tore out of the library with Dobby at his heels.

"Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!" Dobby squealed as they burst into the corridor. "Dobby will be missed - good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!"

"See you later, Dobby!" Harry shouted, and he sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs, three at a time.

The entrance hall contained a few last-minute stragglers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to watch the second task. They stared as Harry flashed past, sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as he leapt down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds.

"This way, Harry!" Lillica had been waiting for him in the front steps and, as they ran together, he somehow managed to tell her about the Gillyweed.

"Ooh, Neville mentioned that stuff to me while we were waiting for you!" Lillica didn't appear to be out of breath at all, even though she was running just as hard as Harry was. "I wish he'd mentioned it sooner, like, last week some time..."

"Yeah...me too..." Harry huffed. "Does it work, though?"

"Well, he did say something about how herbologists have been debating as to the effects of fresh water versus salt water..."

"You're telling me this now?!" Harry interrupted her. "You must be joking!"

"You're the one who's running late!" She shot back at him.

She left Harry with a quick 'good luck' before hurrying over to join Neville and Teddy, and, as he pounded down the lawn he saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Harry ran flat-out around the other side of the lake toward the judges, who were sitting at another gold-draped table at the water's edge. Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were beside the judges' table, watching Harry sprint toward them.

"I'm . .. here ..." Harry panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleurs robes.

"Where have you been?" said a bossy, disapproving voice. "The task's about to start!"

Harry looked around. Percy Weasley was sitting at the judges' table - Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up again.

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry. "Let him catch his breath!"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him. ... It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up.

Where was Emma? Standing where he had thought that she would be were two people - one was Carmichael Ackerly (today in robes of powder blue) and the other was an old wizard who Harry wouldn't have known from a bar of soap, as Uncle Vernon would say.

Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath; he had a stitch in his side that felt as though he had a knife between his ribs, but there was no time to get rid of it; Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was on the very end of the line, next to Krum, who was wearing swimming trunks and was holding his wand ready.

"All right. Harry?" Bagman whispered as he moved Harry a few feet farther away from Krum. "Know what you're going to do?"

"Yeah," Harry panted, massaging his ribs.

Bagman gave Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze and returned to the judges' table; he pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

"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!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake.

It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water . His sodden robes weighed him down as he walked in deeper; now the water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones.

He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen.

He could hear laughter in the crowd and knew he must look stupid, walking into the lake without showing any sign of magical power. The part of him that was still dry was covered in goose pimples; half immersed in the icy water, a cruel breeze lifting his hair, Harry started to shiver violently. He avoided looking at the stands; the laughter was becoming louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the Slytherins. ...

Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck - Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air. . . . He had gills.

He suddenly felt a hand on his back, and a soft, melodic voice that could only belong to Carmichael Ackerly saying: "Allez maintenant, dépêchez-vous!" Before he was shoved and thrown forwards into the water.

Okay, he definitely heard laughter that time, before the water closed in all around him.

The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet - they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too:

It looked as though he had sprouted flippers.

The water didn't feel icy anymore either ... on the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light. . . . Harry struck out once more, marveling at how far and fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the vater, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no longer seemed to need to blink. He had soon swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths.

Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape. He could only see ten feet around him, so that as he sped throuugh the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the incoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadow beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, Ron - nor, thankfully, the giant squid.

Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom . . . and then, without warning, something grabbed hold of his ankle.

Harry twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around Harry's leg, its pointed fangs bared - Harry stuck his webbed hand quickly inside his robes and fumbled for his wand.

By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of Harry's robes, and were attempting to drag him down.

"Relashio!" Harry shouted, except that no sound came out. ... A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. Harry pulled his ankle out of the grindylows grip and swam, as fast as he could, occasionally sending more jets of hot water over his shoulder at random; every now and then he felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, and he kicked out, hard; finally, he felt his foot connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while its fellows shook their fists at Harry and sank back into the weed.

Harry slowed down a little, slipped his wand back inside his robes, and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was moving but the rippling weed.

"How are you getting on?"

Harry thought he was having a heart attack. He whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of him, gazing at him through her thick, pearly glasses.

"Myrtle!" Harry tried to shout - but once again, nothing came out of his mouth but a very large bubble. Moaning Myrtle actually giggled.

"You want to try over there!" she said, pointing. "I won't come with you. ... I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close. ...although she's alright..." She added, rolling her eyes.

Harry gave her the thumbs-up to show his thanks and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher over the weed to avoid any more grindylows that might be lurking there.

"There's something else though, Harry..." He heard her call after him. "He wasn't supposed to come back...but he did..."

He swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. He was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water.

He thought that he hard a low growling sound every so often.

Then, at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting mersong.

"An hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took..." The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam on past the rock, following the mersong.

". . . your time's half gone, so tarry not Lest what you seek stays here to rot. ..."

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces . . . faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the mermaid in the prefects' bathroom. . . .

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another. Harry sped around a corner and a very strange sight met his eyes.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was FleurDelacour's sister (and, Carmichael Ackerly's other niece). All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

And, waiting just above them, was a mermaid who looked an awful lot more like the one in the painting, from her reddish gold fish tail to the mass of rusty-red hair that was swirling around her as she watched silently. A blue pendant glowed at her chest, and Harry felt a rather strange yet comforting magic exuding from it.

He froze.

The mermaid was Emma.

She raised her head then, and looked directly at him, but still she did not move from her spot. Her wand was in her hand, but it was lowered; her other hand was on her hip. Harry understood, then - she was down here watching, keeping an eye on things...making sure that nobody drowned...

Harry sped toward the hostages, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. For a fleeting second he thought of the knife Sirius had bought him for Christmas - locked in his trunk in the castle a quarter of a mile away, no use to him whatsoever.

He looked around. Many of the merpeople surrounding them were carrying spears. He swam swiftly toward a seven-foot-tall merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark fangs and tried to mime a request to borrow the spear. The merman laughed and shook his head.

"We do not help," he said in a harsh, croaky voice.

"Come ON!" Harry said fiercely (but only bubbles issued from his mouth), and he tried to pull the spear away from the merman, but the merman yanked it back, still shaking his head and laughing.

Harry swirled around, staring about. Something sharp . . . anything . . .

There were rocks littering the lake bottom. He dived and snatched up a particularly jagged one and returned to the statue. He began to hack at the ropes binding Ron, and after several minutes' hard work, they broke apart. Ron floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water.

Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. What were they playing at? Why didn't they hurry up?

He glanced over at his godmother, but she merely gazed back at him. She wasn't allowed to help, either.

Harry turned back to Hermione, raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at her bindings too. At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.

"You take your own hostage," one of them said to him. "Leave the others ..."

"No way!" said Harry furiously - but only two large bubbles came out.

"Your task is to retrieve your own friend . . . leave the others ..."

"She's my friend too!" Harry yelled, gesturing toward Hermione, an enormous silver bubble emerging soundlessly from his lips. "And I don't want them to die either!"

Cho's head was on Hermione's shoulder; the small silver-haired girl was ghostly green and pale. Harry struggled to fight off the mermen, but they laughed harder than ever, holding him back. Harry looked wildly around. Where were the other champions? Would he have time to take Ron to the surface and come back down for Hermione and the others?

Would he be able to find them again? He looked down at his watch to see how much time was left - it had stopped working.

Emma wouldn't let them die...but, what if the merpeople didn't listen to her? Harry was fairly certain that only the glowing pendant that his godmother was wearing allowed her to be there right then...she wasn't an actual merperson, and, they knew it...

Just then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly over his head. Harry looked up and saw Cedric swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around his head, which made his features look oddly wide and stretched. Harry watched Cedric do only the slightest of double-takes when he saw who the mermaid overseeing everything was. Emma swished her fish-like tail, and Cedric nodded once. He still looked panic-stricken, though.

"Got lost!" he mouthed to Harry. "Fleur and Krum're coming now! And something else!"

Feeling enormously relieved, although also mildly concerned about what that 'something else' was, Harry watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight.

Harry looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour. . . .

Emma wouldn't let them die...he suddenly noticed that her face looked tense, and she had swum over to converse with a female mermaid nearby. Still, she wouldn't let them die...

The merpeople started screeching animatedly. Those holding Harry loosened their grip, staring behind them. Harry turned and saw something monstrous cutting through the water toward them: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark. ... It was Krum.

He appeared to have transfigured himself - but badly.

The shark-man swam straight to Hermione and began snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that Krum's new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and Harry was quite sure that if Krum wasn't careful, he was going to rip Hermione in half. Darting forward. Harry hit Krum hard on the shoulder (he noticed that Krum's other shoulder appeared to be bleeding, and quite badly) and held up the jagged stone. Krum seized it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he grabbed Hermione around the waist, and without a backward glance, began to rise rapidly with her toward the surface.

Now what? Harry thought desperately. If he could be sure that Fleur was coming. . . .

But still no sign. There was nothing to be done except. . .

He snatched up the stone, which Krum had dropped, but the mermen now closed in around Ron and the little girl, shaking their heads at him. Harry pulled out his wand.

"Get out of the way!"

Only bubbles flew out of his mouth, but he had the distinct impression that the mermen had understood him, because they suddenly stopped laughing. Their yellowish eyes were fixed upon Harry's wand, and they looked scared. There might be a lot more of them than there were of him, but Harry could tell, by the looks on their faces, that they knew no more magic than the giant squid did.

"You've got until three!" Harry shouted; a great stream of bubbles burst from him, but he held up three fingers to make sure they got the message. "One . . ." (he put down a finger) "two . . ." (he put down a second one) - They scattered. Harry darted forward and began to hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, and at last she was free. He seized the little girl around the waist, grabbed the neck of Ron's robes, and kicked off from the bottom.

There was no sign of Emma.

It was very slow work. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously, but Ron and Fleur's sister were like potato-filled sacks dragging him back down. ... He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark . . . he heard that growling sound again … it sounded a bit like sinister laughter . . .

Just then, Emma was at his side. She had swum out at him from the darkness, her glowing pendant practically the only thing visible until she was right next to him.

"Harry!" She said, able to speak perfectly underwater in a voice that was barely her own but, Harry realised with a start, that it was her voice that he had heard singing before. Right now, though, it was on edge. "You must hurry!" Her hazel eyes were alert, and her expression was panicked. "Take Ron and Gabrielle! Get up there and tell Dumbledore! Tell Newt, he'll know! He'll know! Tell them that it came back!"

"What came back?!" Harry tried to say, but the words died in his mouth, as he saw movement in the darkness over his godmother's shoulder.

Emma spun, a flash of red hair and golden fins, as she disappeared into the darkness, and then...

"FLAMMA!"

Harry felt the intense heat that radiated from the brilliant gold and silver flames burst forth from her wand, streaking out through the black waters of the lake...

And Harry finally saw what 'it' was.

A huge serpent-like creature, as pitch black as the lake surrounding it, except for its eyes - those were blood red, and its teeth were gleaming white as it circled Harry, Emma, Ron, and Gabrielle.

It was at least fifty feet long, with wicked sharp spines all along its back. It looked like a train with teeth.

Despite the Giant Squid in the lake, and the merfolk with their pitchforks, and the Grindylows...this giant water snake was what didn't belong down here. Moaning Myrtle had said that he wasn't supposed to come back...but, somehow, he had...

The beast's red eyes were almost glowing in the darkness, the only part of it that was visible in the blackness. Although it was useful for helping to keep track of where it was, it didn't make the fact that it was circling them slowly any less unnerving. It also never once took its eyes off of them.

Harry was torn...his godmother was watching the monster, never once breaking eye contact with it just like it was staring at her. But, she seemed to guess what Harry was thinking because, as she readied her wand arm again, she yelled to him: "This is not a part of the task, so I am allowed to hold it at bay! Harry, GO!"

He didn't want to, but the Gillyweed was wearing off...he'd drown if he didn't surface soon...

Harry's legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of dragging Ron and the girl...

He was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again ... he was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in his mouth .. . yet the darkness was definitely thinning now...he could see daylight above him.. ..

What was going on below him? He didn't dare look, for fear of seeing something terrible...like a set of jaws rising up to eat him...jaws that may have already eaten his godmother...the sooner that he got up there, the sooner he could warn the other judges about the problem.

He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet...water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs ... he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only ten feet above him ... he had to get there ... he had to ...

Harry kicked his legs so hard and fast it felt as though his muscles were screaming in protest; his very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn't breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not stop...

And then he felt his head break the surface of the lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he had never breathed properly before, and, panting, pulled Ron and the little girl up with him.

The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet; Harry had the impression they thought that Ron and the little girl might be dead, but they were wrong . . . both of them had opened their eyes; the girl looked scared and confused, but Ron merely expelled a great spout of water, blinked in the bright light, turned to Harry, and said, "Wet, this, isn't it?" Then he spotted Fleur's sister. "What did you bring her for?"

"Fleur didn't turn up, I couldn't leave her," Harry panted.

"Harry, you prat," said Ron, "you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!"

"The song said -" Harry stopped. It was all very well for Ron; he'd been asleep, he hadn't felt how eerie it was down in the lake, surrounded by spear-carrying merpeople who'd looked more than capable of murder. And, he didn't know what was going on down there now...he didn't know about the giant sea snake...

"Help me with Gabrielle, I don't think she can swim very well!" Harry said quickly and, not giving Ron any time to ask him how he knew the name of Fleur's little sister, thy began pulling her through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching.

Harry could see Ackerly checking over Hermione, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. Krum was there too, and Madam Pomfrey was busy mending his bloodied shoulder. Harry's heart pounded. He knew what had done that, now.

He could see Ludo Bagman waiting for them. He saw Percy who, for some reason, looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, as he came splashing out to meet them. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"

"She's fine!" Harry tried to tell her, but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout. He had to, though.

As Percy seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank ("Gerroff, Percy, I'm all right!"), Harry looked wildly around for Professor Dumbledore - where was he?

"P-Professor...?" Harry tried to call. Why was that word suddenly so hard to say right now? "Newt...?" There, that one was easier, and Emma had said that this Newt person would know. "Newt?!" He called again.

"We're here, Harry..." Hands were pulling Harry upright, with far stronger grips than two old men should have had. He caught a glimpse of a shimmering ring on one hand; a hand that was covered in scars and seemed well worn.

Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister.

"It was ze grindylows . . . zey attacked me ... zen I saw ... oh Gabrielle, I thought... I thought.. ." Her eyes were full of tears. "I thought zat 'orrible anguille 'ad gotten you!"

"Sœur!" Fleur's little sister exclaimed. "Ça ne m'a pas attrapé mais VOUS m'étranglez maintenant!"

Harry let Ackerly sort that one out, as he looked up at the unfamiliar man who must be Newt, and then turned to look at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was gazing at him intently.

"Professor," Harry looked up at the headmaster, trying to focus on one thing and one thing only - getting someone to listen to him. "Emma...she's down there..."

"Yes, Harry, she was down there to make sure nothing happened..." Dumbledore said.

"But something did happen!" Harry's voice came out louder than he expected it too, but he didn't care. "There's something else...something down there that's not supposed to be!" His teeth were chattering. Everyone was staring at him.

Then, what followed was a wave of confusion, as everyone began talking at once.

"Oh, not again!" Madam Pomfrey cried.

"It's gotta be the sea monster of 78'!" Was that Neville's voice?

"You mean that this happened last time, too?!" Harry wasn't sure who said that.

"Weren't there supposed to be more rules in place this time?!" Percy complained.

"Perce, seriously, let me go!" That was Ron.

"You see?!" Fleur's voice could be heard clearly above the chaos. "It was zat anguille! It 'ad rouge eyes and pointes all down its back!" She told Madam Maxime, who Harry was relieved to see looked just as alarmed as if she had seen it for herself.

"Cette même anguille à nouveau?!" She asked nobody in particular.

"What in Merlin's name is an anguille?" Somebody wanted to know.

"It is an 'eel'." Ackerly said quietly but, somehow, they all heard him. He had a hand on each of his niece's shoulders, and was looking out over the water. "Although, from these détails and what we already know, it sounds like it could have been more of a..."

"Serpentine creature!" Cedric called. "I saw it as well, it had to be at least fifty feet long!"

That sent a fresh wave of panic throughout the crowd.

"Nonsense," Karkaroff was saying, shaking his head as he stood there, seeming quite disbelieving despite the panic of nearly everyone else. "I heard about this, it happened before, but..." He crossed his arms and looked around. "Perhaps you are just making up excuses?"

"It's not an excuse!" Harry exclaimed hotly. "There's a giant eel snake thing down there!"

"I saw it," Krum spoke up, quite unexpectedly. He had moved away from Madam Pomfrey, his arm now wrapped up in bandages. He wasn't looking at his headmaster; he was staring out at the lake. "Professor Karkaroff, there is something like that down there..."

"Is it what attacked you, Viktor?" Karkaroff said quickly.

Krum nodded.

Karkaroff began to look angry now, and he too faced the lake, watching, waiting...

"It's Gustafson!" Harry exclaimed. A few people looked at him. "I mean," he looked at the other old man. "Newt! It's a Selma! There's a Selma down there! Emma's down there with a Selma!"

There was not a sound, not even from the crowd, as everyone stared either at Harry or the lake, and Harry wondered why no one was doing anything.

Then, came Ackerly's melodic voice once more. He had moved away from his nieces, to stand at the edge of the lake, his long hair blowing in the breeze. "All will be well...l'ange se lève..." He gestured towards the waters.

There was no other warning - just then, Emma came flying out of the water, her wand arm raised as she flew through the air in a swirl of golden fins and people began gasping. Emma's left arm clawed at her throat...she yanked the pendant from around her neck...when she landed on the lakeshore next to Harry, she was a human once more.

Harry looked at his godmother, who still held the pendant limply up to her chest, her breathing coming out in short gasps, but she managed to turn to him and say: "Hey...kid..."

And that was when the Selma decided to breach. Its snake-like head (complete with glowing red eyes and razor sharp fangs) came first, followed by its endlessly long body and matching row of dorsal spines. Everyone stared open mouthed at the lake serpent, which just seemed to keep on coming, and Harry felt quite certain that those who hadn't believed that it was there before definitely did now. Its tail gave one last flick, drenching Karkaroff with lake water.

Still, not a sound was made, until the Selma had completely disappeared once more, and the lake waters had returned to still.

That's when the screaming began.

"Emma!" Harry gasped, trying to be heard over the noise. "That thing! Myrtle said that it wasn't supposed to be in there!"

"Its not, but...you're up here now, we're all up here...it's okay, kid," she reassured him, although her teeth were clenched and her eyes were flashing; Harry realised that she may not have been shaking from the cold at that moment. "Newt, you saw it too, right?" She looked over at the unfamiliar old man, as she staggered to her feet. "Is it...?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to steady her (Harry noticed that ring again - where had he seen one like it before?). "I did...it, uh, is the same one as before, yes..." Harry noticed that while Newt glanced briefly at Emma, he still seemed to be avoiding making eye-contact, although she didn't seem at all perturbed by it.

"I knew it! Gustafson! They said that it was gone!" Emma shook her head in disbelief. "It could have...! What were they...? I must know!" She suddenly declared, and dashed off towards the other judges, her scarlet robes sopping wet and Harry could only hope that they had been that colour before. The pendant dangled from her hand as she grabbed Bagman's arm, and Madam Maxime joined them. The three of them began talking very quickly.

Harry wanted to go with Emma, to make sure that she was really alright, but Newt held his arm and steered him over to Madam Pomfrey, where he was wrapped so tightly in a blanket that he felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion. Steam gushed out of his ears.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried, though her teeth were chattering and definitely not from the cold. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well -" said Harry. He would have told her about Dobby, but he had just noticed how many people were suddenly watching him, including Karkaroff. Plus, Newt was still there, whoever he was.

But, Hermione had an answer for that. As Newt moved away to speak with Ackerly, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and whispered excitedly: "Harry, do you know who that was?!"

"Err-"

"Newt Scamander!" Hermione's eyes were shining, although she switched to rolling them when Harry gave her a blank stare. "Oh, honestly...how did you know about the Selma?" She asked him impatiently.

"I fell asleep in the library reading Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them." Harry replied somewhat irritably.

"By...?"

"By Newt Sca...oh...oh..." Harry understood.

"You even have his autograph, remember?"

Harry grimaced slightly, and turned to watch as the judges appeared to be arguing about something.

"That thing could have killed all five of us, Karkaroff!" Harry heard his godmother saying.

"It's just too big of a coincidence..." Karkaroff countered.

"Are you even paying attention to the facts?! Oh, where are Newt and Professor Dumbledore?!" Emma now sounded completely fed up with things.

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," said Krum suddenly.

Harry had the impression that Krum was drawing her attention back onto himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the lake, but Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry. . . . Did it take you ages to find us?"

"No ... I found you okay..."

"Harry," Hermione said patiently, although she was starting to look exasperated as well. "Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown."

"What about getting eaten by that Selma?!" Harry wanted to know.

"I'm sure that Emma would've handled it." Hermione replied. "She's done it before - I heard Mr. Ackerly saying it." She blushed slightly.

Harry's feeling of stupidity was growing. Now he was out of the water, it seemed perfectly clear that Dumbledores safety precautions wouldn't have permitted the death of a hostage just because their champion hadn't turned up. Why hadn't he just grabbed Ron and gone? He would have been first back... Cedric and Krum hadn't wasted time worrying about anyone else; they hadn't taken the mersong seriously...they had seen the Selma, Krum had even been attacked by it, and they'd still continued...

Hermione was right, Emma wouldn't have let the Selma eat any of them. Maybe Harry had even made things more difficult for her, by staying down there in the first place...he could only imagine what kinds of accusations she was going to be getting now.

Dumbledore and Newt were crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with the same merperson that Emma had spoken to before; a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. Both Dumbledore and Newt were making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, the two of them could speak Mermish. Finally they straightened up; Dumbledore turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy's clutches; she led him over to Harry and the others, gave him a blanket and some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

"Look after Gabrielle," she told her, and then she turned to Harry. "You saved 'er," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Yeah," said Harry, who was now heartily wishing he'd left all three girls tied to the statue, Selma or no Selma.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek (he felt his face burn and wouldn't have been surprised if steam was coming out of his ears again), then said to Ron, "And you too-you 'elped -"

"Yeah," said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, "yeah, a bit -"

Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Hermione looked simply furious, but just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake and, of course, Emma, who was down there as well to oversee for the sake of safety, has confirmed this recount!"

Emma had confirmed what the chief of the merfolk had said? Or, had it been the other way around? Harry wasn't quite sure at the moment. He also wasn't quite sure how any of this could be considered 'safe' anymore...

"Now, I must make this clear before we go on, and that is that while the creature - known as a Selma - that was seen poses no threat to us," Bagman said, and everybody seemed to exchange a glance at that. How could it not pose any threat? Maybe because they were all out of the water...? "It was not intended to be a part of the tournament, and as such the involvement of one of our judges to keep the Selma at bay was perfectly acceptable," he nodded over at Emma, as cheers could be heard from the crowd. "Furthermore, Emma has assured us that all four of the champions reacted bravely and appropriately when confronted by the outside threat." More applause. "Though one of our champions was injured by the Selma," gasps could be heard from the crowd. "The situation has been carefully looked at by none other than our visitor, famed Magizoologist Newton Scamander," Bagman had to pause here, as the cheers from the crowd were much louder this time, and Harry tried to ignore the Look that Hermione was giving him. "And he has given reason as to what happened with the Selma and why. A one-time allowance will be made for the champion who was injured."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. What did that mean?

From the look on Krum's face, he didn't know, either. He was glancing from Emma to Karkaroff, as if trying to read their minds.

Karkaroff's body language was probably easier to read than his mind right then; he had his arms firmly crossed and a very dark look on his face.

Emma, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, had her eyes closed. She seemed exhausted, all of a sudden...

"So, we have therefore decided to award marks out of sixty for each of the champions, as follows. . . . " Bagman was saying, and Harry reminded himself to pay attention. "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 thirty points."

Applause from the stands.

"I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.

"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." Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. "We therefore award him fifty-seven points."

Harry's heart sank. If Cedric had been outside the time limit, he most certainly had been.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We have made the allowance to take aside the fact that the Transfiguration was incomplete, in compensation for his run-in with the Selma. We award him fifty points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior, although Harry couldn't help but notice the glare that he gave Emma as well, which she probably noticed even with her eyes closed. Harry wondered if she'd fallen asleep standing up like that.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, both the Merchieftainess and Emma inform 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."

Ron and Hermione both gave Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.

"Most of the judges," and here, it was Bagman's turn to give Karkaroff a very nasty look, as Emma finally opened her eyes again, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However . . . Mr. Potter's score is fifty-five points."

Harry's stomach leapt - he was now tying for first place with Cedric. Ron and Hermione, caught by surprise, stared at Harry, then laughed and started applauding hard with the rest of the crowd.

"There you go, Harry!" Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all -you were showing moral fiber!"

Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn't look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering Harry to listen.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

It was over. Harry thought dazedly, as Madam Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes ... it was over, he had got through ... he didn't have to worry about anything now until June the twenty-fourth. . ..

Harry wondered not only where Emma had gotten that necklace from, but also how he could thank her for her help with the Selma but, when he mentioned these two things to Lillica and Teddy (who had stopped to chat with Newt Scamander, much to Hermione's shock), they just told him that he'd have to ask their mum about the necklace (which had been a big surprise for them, as well), adding that Emma would probably just be happiest if Harry didn't go and get himself killed on the twenty-fourth of June.

That made sense to Harry.

And...

Next time he was in Hogsmeade, Harry decided as he walked back up the stone steps into the castle, he was going to buy Dobby a pair of socks for every day of the year.