The Egg and the Eye

That night, Dean gathered everyone but Cas around a table in the library, and explained to them what he saw.

'So, here's the deal,' he said. 'Something's up with Cas and we're gonna figure out what. We've got a few of the best brains here, not to mention my dashing good looks, so I'm sure we can come up with something.'

'What have your "good looks" got to do with anything?' Sam teased.

'It means I can stand here looking pretty while you guys do all the work.'

'Yeah, okay.'

'Shut up, Sam, we've got work to do.

'All right, so we're looking for anything to do with white light because that's basically all we have to go on at this point. Harry and Ron, you take the permanent curses section, Sam and Hermione take magical creatures, Sherlock go for magical diseases, and John, you stay here with me and we'll try and get you to see something else. All right, everyone fan out, let's go.'

They all went off to different parts of the library, except Dean and John, who stayed sitting at their table.

'Where do we start, then?' John asked with a small sigh.

'Let's see… Back at the beginning of the year, when Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret.'

'Ah, yes, I remember it well,' John grinned. 'Do you mind if I hold your hands? It makes the image clearer.'

'Sure.'

John closed his eyes and squeezed Dean's hands tightly. It was a little further back than he had ever forced himself before, but knowing exactly where he was going helped. It was more like a series of freeze frames than a proper vision, but it was better than nothing. He saw Malfoy flash into a ferret, then turned to face Cas. He saw Cas's terrified expression, then Dean and Gabriel leading him away. John followed them all the way up to the hospital wing, but when Dean left, the image began to destabilise, and he caught a brief glimpse of Dumbledore before he snapped back to the library.

'Anything?' Dean said anxiously.

John shook off his dizziness. 'No. Is there nothing closer?'

'Let me think,' Dean said, but before he could say anything else, John was sucked back in.

It was the First Task again, and John was standing outside the first aid tent. His stomach lurched horribly at the sight of himself and Sherlock walking into the tent. He had caught flashes of himself before, but nothing this clear. He followed their past selves, and once again saw Cas glowing.

He watched Dean take him into a private cubicle and fail to calm him down, then Gabriel again leading him away. John tried to follow, but the glowing grew brighter and brighter the further they walked, until John could no longer see his surroundings. He forced himself to let go of the vision, and leaned back in his chair until the room stopped spinning. 'It's no good,' John told Dean queasily. 'I can't see a thing past all the glowing.'

'Okay, but is he glowing, or is it a spell or something?'

John frowned. 'I think it's coming from him.'

Sherlock then returned from the magical diseases section. 'Nothing that might indicate Castiel's condition,' he said. 'The cure for Dragon Pox glows a little, but nothing like what John is describing.'

'Yeah, that and I think we'd have noticed if he had Dragon Pox,' Dean pointed out.

Harry and Ron also returned with nothing.

'Lots of curses glow,' Ron shrugged. 'But all the ones we could find are obvious.'

Then Sam and Hermione came back.

'Let me guess, nothing?'

They shook their heads.

'I found something about obscurials,' Hermione said, 'but-'

'Trust me, if he was an obscurial, the castle would have been levelled by now, especially with his power.'

'That could be a clue,' Sam said, snapping his fingers. 'Let's write this down.' He pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of his bag, and sat down at the table. 'Okay, so, he glows white; he's an exceptionally powerful wizard - right?'

They all nodded.

'What else?'

They all thought about it.

'He's a really good healer,' John said, and Sam wrote it down.

'He flies really well,' Harry suggested.

'I'm not sure on that one,' Sam said.

'Well, he doesn't really practice at it. He's just good.'

'I'll put it on the maybe list. Anything else?'

'He's just sort of, really smart, in general,' Ron said.

'Hermione and I are smart,' Sherlock said.

'Yeah, but he's a weird sort of smart.'

'You care to elaborate on that?' Sam asked.

Ron just shrugged.

'Okay, well I'm not gonna write down "really smart".'

'What else then?' Dean said. 'He likes astronomy, and snow. That could be something.'

'Dean, that's just stuff he likes. That doesn't mean anything.'

'You got any better ideas, genius?'

Sam sighed and set his quill down. 'This really isn't anything to go on.'

'There's gotta be something.'

'All we can do now is leave it until he either tells us, or we get some more clues as to what's going on,' John said. 'There's no point in us digging any further in here. If I see anything else, I'll let you know.'

Dean groaned. 'Come on, you guys. Sherlock? Surely you're not gonna give up this easy?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'No, but we won't find anything else in here. I should go through his things to see-'

John elbowed him. 'You will not go through his things.'

'I will not go through his things,' Sherlock sighed.

'Fine. Y'all suck. I'm keeping this list.' Dean snatched up the parchment and stormed out of the library.

Sam rolled his eyes and left.

'It is rather strange, isn't it?' Hermione said thoughtfully.

Ron shrugged. 'Another mystery on the list,' he said. 'I'm going to bed.'

'Might as well get some sleep,' Hermione said, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

They all made to leave, but Harry grabbed John and they hung back for a minute.

'I need your help,' Harry muttered. 'Can you see the Second Task?'

'What? But you told Hermione you'd figured it out.' John hissed.

'I didn't want to worry her. Please, John, just try.'

John put a hand on his stomach and exhaled. 'Okay, but if I throw up it's your fault.' He grabbed Sherlock's hand and looked forward. It came slowly, and it was dark, but when John tried to move closer, he bounced off a barrier. His knees buckled, but he just managed to keep himself up. 'What the-?'

Harry steadied him by the shoulders and Sherlock at the waist. 'What did you see?' Harry said.

'I- nothing,' John said. 'I don't understand, I thought you stopped-'

That was never me,' Sherlock said. 'I only blocked my thoughts from you; I would never interfere with your visions.'

John heaved, covering his mouth with his hands. 'Ugh,' he groaned, doubling over. 'Still cursed then. Good to know.'

'Still cursed,' Sherlock agreed.

John breathed deeply, until he felt a little less nauseous. 'I want to try again,' he said. 'Not now. Maybe tomorrow. I want to see if I can push past it.'

'John-'

'I'm doing it. Tomorrow. Sorry, Harry.'

Harry shook his head. 'It's fine. I'll just have to figure it out the old-fashioned way.'

'Okay, good, you do that. I'm gonna go throw up.' John dashed off, Sherlock close at his heels.

In the following days, John spent most of his free time trying to force his way through the curse. He couldn't see the task, but he thought he was getting closer every time. He tried to watch Castiel a few times as well, but he didn't want to risk burning his eyes too often.

By the next week, he had an almost permanent migraine, and he walked around slowly. His eyes were itchy and dry, and sleep escaped him most nights.

Sherlock took one look at his worn expression at dinner one evening, and decided he needed to relax.

'Take a break,' Sherlock insisted. 'Nothing will happen if you make yourself ill.'

'Yeah, but if I can't see this, and Harry can't figure it out, then Harry might die,' John said grumpily.

'And how is you driving yourself into the ground helping?' Sherlock said. 'I have an idea, come on.' He took John gently by the hand and lead him through the castle.

'Where are we going?' John complained.

'You'll see.'

They came to a statue of a wizard who looked confused, and was wearing his gloves on the wrong hands. There was a door next to it, and Sherlock approached it. He looked around to check that they were alone, and whispered 'Pine Fresh' to it. The door opened and Sherlock pulled John inside.

John's immediate reaction was surprise. It was a huge bathroom, softly lit by a candle-filled chandelier. Everything looked as though it were made of white marble, including what looked like an empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool's edges, each with a different colour jewel set into the handle. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows; a large pile of fluffy white towels and bathrobes sat in a corner, and there was a single golden-framed painting on the wall. It featured a blonde mermaid, who was fast asleep on a rock, her long hair fluttering every time she snored.

John gazed around, open-mouthed, while Sherlock set about filling the pool. 'Do you come in here a lot?' he asked.

Sherlock shrugged. 'It's better than the regular bathrooms.'

'But you never told us.'

'Why would I want anyone else in here? It's bad enough the Perfects get to use it.' He entertained John for a while, showing him some of the different taps, including one whose water shot off the surface of the bath in arcs.

'What are we doing in here, Sherlock?' John said, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bath.

'I told you, you need to relax.'

'And this is the way, is it?' John said sceptically. 'This is how you do it?'

'Yes.' Sherlock stripped down to his underwear and jumped into the pool, spraying John with hot water and foam.

'Hey!' John protested, spluttering on the water.

Sherlock resurfaced, pushing the hair out of his face and swimming to the edge of the bath.

'I'm not getting in there,' John said stubbornly.

'Why not?'

'I've got far more important things to be doing than farting about in a bubble bath. I'm going.' But Sherlock grabbed John by the arm, preventing him from moving. Then Sherlock pulled him down and kissed him softly. John blushed furiously. 'That's not much of an argument, you know,' he said, clearing his throat.

'I disagree.' Sherlock did it again, but this time, yanked John's arm, making him fall into the water.

He sank down, momentarily shocked, and shuddering at the water that was much colder than he expected.

When he opened his eyes, however, what he saw was not the bath in the Prefects' bathroom, but something else entirely. Dark and cold, fronds of seaweed drifted around him. He saw figures illuminated in the thin, watery rays of light that penetrated the surface. With a jolt, he realised that he recognised them. He saw Harry first, from a distance, then the other champions too. Then something else; with grey skin, long, wild, dark green hair, and fishtails at least six feet long.

The more immediate problem, was that John could not reach the surface of the water. His lungs burned, unable to suck in a breath of air. He looked wildly about himself, as if hoping to find just a pocket of air, or some sort of escape. He began to feel light-headed and his limbs stopped moving. His vision darkened at the edges. Then an arm wrapped around his chest, lifting him up through the water. His head broke the surface and he slapped back down on marble.

'Anapneo!'

Water poured out of his mouth and onto the marble as he retched violently.

'Are you all right?' Sherlock said breathlessly, wrapping a bathrobe around himself.

John gulped in air, coughing and spluttering.

'John?' Sherlock said, placing his hands either side of John's face.

John nodded vaguely, still coughing.

Sherlock released a relieved breath. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I didn't mean to.'

John shook his head. The coughing had stopped, but he was still struggling to catch his breath. 'I think I saw the Second Task,' he said hoarsely.

'What?' Sherlock said, his head snapping up. 'How?'

'I don't know,' John said, laying down flat on his back. He was soaking wet and began to shiver. 'I didn't do it on purpose. It was underwater and I saw all the champions. There were things there as well.'

'What things?'

'I dunno, sort of fish people?'

Sherlock suddenly went still. 'Not - not merpeople?'

'I- maybe?'

Comprehension spread across Sherlock's face. 'Of course!' he exclaimed. 'Mermaids. The clue is in Mermish.'

'That's Mermish?' John frowned.

'Yes, they sound like that on land, but you can understand them underwater. Harry needs to open the egg underwater - amazing, John.' He kissed John on the forehead and scrambled to his feet. He quickly threw his robes back on and helped John to his feet, steadying him when his light-headedness caught up with him.

'Hang on, hang on,' John said, clutching Sherlock tightly. 'Give me a minute.'

Sherlock fidgeted, hopping from one foot to the other impatiently, but waited.

John wrapped his arms around himself and Sherlock finally noticed that John was still soaked. He blasted John with a jet of hot air until he was completely dry.

'Okay, I'm ready,' John nodded.

They quickly found Harry in the common room, staring absent-mindedly into the fire.

'Harry!' John said, hurrying over to him. 'You have to put the egg in the water.'

'What?'

'Just do it.'

'Wow, okay, calm down.' Harry fetched the egg, his invisibility cloak, and the Marauder's Map down from the dormitory, and left the common room.

John sat heavily down on the sofa while Sherlock paced around the room.

Hours passed and John didn't realise he'd dozed off until Sherlock said, 'What's taking him so long?' loudly.

'Eurgh,' John said, sitting up straight. His head was heavy and he still felt quite sick.

At last, Harry came back through the portrait hole, with the egg under one arm and the Cloak under the other, looking very perturbed.

'What happened?' Sherlock said. 'Where have you been?'

'Nearly got caught on the way back. I saw Mr Crouch on the map, and I got distracted. Got stuck in a trick step.'

'Wait, what?' John said.

'Mr Crouch?' Sherlock repeated. 'Where?'

'Breaking into Snape's office.'

'Now that is very interesting,' said Sherlock, his eyes going misty.

'I think we've got something more pressing to be worrying about,' said John.

'Like what?'

John just raised his eyebrows.

'Right. Of course. What was the clue, Harry?'

Harry recited it to them.

'Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour - the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

'What do you think that means?'

'Easy,' said Sherlock. 'Something's going to be taken from you, you'll have to get it back from the mermaids, and you've got an hour to do it. Simple.'

'Simple?' said Harry. 'When was the last time you held your breath underwater for an hour?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'How long until the task?'

'Three weeks,' said John.

'Plenty of time to think of something,' Sherlock said confidently, ideas already spinning through his mind.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to SweetNerds, DaughterofMagic3, VegasGranny, Morgause Pendragon and Lady among the trees for the reviews! Hope you all enjoyed it and I'll see you again next time :)