Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except for Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 23- The Second Task
"You said you'd already worked out that egg clue!" says Hermione indignantly.
"Keep your voice down!" says Harry crossly. "I just need to — sort of fine-tune it, all right?"
He, Ron, Hermione, and I are sitting at the very back of the Charms class with a table to ourselves. We are 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 has given each student a stack of cushions on which to practice, the theory being that these won't hurt anyone if they go off target. It was a good theory, but it isn't working very well. Neville's aim is so poor that he keeps accidentally sending much heavier things flying across the room — Professor Flitwick, for instance.
I was getting bored with the charm by now, having managed to banish all the pillows that I had been given, and even had some fun with a little target practice. Now, I'm forced to sit here and listen to my friends bicker amongst themselves, while I stew over the rejection that I had gotten this morning at breakfast from Ariana. Apparently whatever was bugging her last night was still bugging her today as well.
"Just forget the egg for a minute, all right?" Harry hisses as Professor Flitwick goes whizzing resignedly past them, landing on top of a large cabinet. "I'm trying to tell you about Snape and Moody. . . ."
This class is an ideal cover for a private conversation, as everyone is having far too much fun to pay us any attention. Harry has been recounting his adventures of the previous night in whispered installments for the last half hour. I had been tuning out the parts where I was involved not needing a recap of the disaster at the end of the night.
"Snape said Moody's searched his office as well?" Ron whispers, his eyes alight with interest as he Banishes a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it soars into the air and knocks Parvati's hat off). "What . . . d'you reckon Moody's here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?" Now that was definitely an interesting thought, and would be slightly worrisome if we actually had proof to back that up.
"Well, I dunno if that's what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he's definitely doing it," says Harry, waving his wand without paying much attention, so that his cushion does 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?" says 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," says Hermione, shaking her head skeptically, "we thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?"
"If Snape really wanted to kill Harry he would have just done him in with a curse on the first day." I supply unhelpfully as Harry and Ron glare at me. Hermione merely rolls her eyes at my brusque statement.
Hermione Banishes her pillow with a swish of her wand and it soars into the box in front of Flitwick's desk where we're all supposed to be aiming. "I don't care what Moody says," Hermione goes 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," says 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?" demands 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?"
"I dunno maybe Snape has a tonic squirrelled away that could make him feel better." I say offhandedly. Hermione rolls her eyes at me again.
"Jamie you don't break into people's offices just because you're sick. You ask first." She tells me attempting to sort out some moral issues. Now it is my turn to roll my eyes back at her.
"You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky," says Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the window.
"You just want to think Snape's up to something," fires Hermione, sending her cushion zooming neatly into the box.
"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he's on his second one," says Harry grimly, and his cushion, to his very great surprise, flies straight across the room and lands neatly on top of Hermione's.
"I for one would deeply like to know when everyone decided that it would be great fun to wander the corridors after dark." I grumble, and Harry sighs wishing that I could get off the subject of our surprise visitor last night.
That night Harry made good on his promise to write to Sirius, while the rest of us got started on the whole, 'Harry can't breathe underwater, oh crap' situation. I think its pretty safe to say that the only ideas that have been thrown out there so far are ridiculous and are never going to work.
Not to mention that the 24 of February is drawing closer everyday. Ron quite likes the idea of using the Summoning Charm again — Harry explained about Aqua-Lungs, and Ron can't see why Harry shouldn't Summon one from the nearest Muggle town.
Hermione squashes this plan by pointing out that, in the unlikely event that Harry manages to learn how to operate an Aqua-Lung within the set limit of an hour, he is sure to be disqualified for breaking the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy — it is too much to hope that no Muggles will 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 says. "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," says 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," says Hermione seriously. "No, I think your best chance is some sort of charm."
"Well there are plenty of charms that might do the trick. I've seen some pretty neat ones in my books." I say grabbing one of my advanced charm books and beginning to flip through it rapidly.
Unfortunately luck didn't seem to be on our side this time round. There were nothing in my books, the library, the restricted section, or it seemed anywhere in Hogwarts. Time seemed to be speeding up as well along with our panic. It seemed like there was only a week left until the task yesterday, and now there are only three days left. I haven't had anytime to myself, for I've been desperately helping Harry attempt to find some way to keep him alive.
With two days left, Harry starts to go off food again. The only good thing about breakfast on Monday is the return of the brown owl he sent to Sirius. Harry pulls off the parchment, unrolled it, and sees the shortest letter Sirius has ever written to him.
Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.
Harry turns the parchment over and looks at the back, hoping to see something else, but it is blank.
"Weekend after next," whispers Hermione, who was reading the note over Harry's shoulder just like I was. "Here — take my quill and send this owl back straight away."
"Maybe Sirius has faith in you to be able to succeed in this upcoming challenge." I say hopefully trying to keep my friend's spirits up even though mine are loitering around in the dungeons right about now.
"What's he want to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend for?" asks Ron.
"Dunno," says Harry dully. It seems like the momentary happiness that flared inside him at the sight of the owl has died. "Come on . . . Care of Magical Creatures."
"Cheer up Harry, maybe Hagrid will know of something." I tell him skipping into place beside him. I glance towards the Ravenclaw table to see if I can catch a glance of Luka who I hadn't seen in a while, but my heart twists at seeing him talking very animatedly to Ariana Dumbledore. They were standing rather close together…
"Jamie." Hermione says placing her hand on my shoulder, causing me to jump. "Sorry, you were just spaced out there, are you feeling well?" Hermione asks glancing towards the table where I was looking.
"Yeah, 'M fine. Don't need to worry Hermione, come on… we'll be late for Hagrid, and someone's going to have to stop Harry from throwing the competition by getting kicked in the head by a unicorn." I tell her hastily, moving out of the Great Hall.
Whether Hagrid is trying to make up for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, or because there are now only two skrewts left, or because he is trying to prove he can do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could, I don't know, but Hagrid has been continuing her lessons on unicorns ever since he's returned to work. It turns out that Hagrid knows quite as much about unicorns as he does about monsters, though it is clear that he finds their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing.
Today he has managed to capture two unicorn foals. Unlike full-grown unicorns, they are pure gold. Parvati and Lavender go into transports of delight at the sight of them, and even Pansy Parkinson has to work hard to conceal how much she likes them. I have to admit that they do look pretty cool, but it's slightly unnerving how shiny they are.
I wonder how they manage not to become so many other creatures' prey? I might have to ask Hagrid about that. "Easier ter spot than the adults," Hagrid tells 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. . . .
"You okay, Harry?" Hagrid mutters, moving aside slightly, while most of the others swarm around the baby unicorns, leaving Hagrid, Harry, and I alone.
"Yeah," says Harry.
"Jus' nervous, eh?" says Hagrid.
"Bit," replies Harry.
"Try loads." I snort to Harry's glare.
"Harry," says Hagrid, clapping a massive hand on his shoulder, so that Harry's knees buckle 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 nods, but I can tell from the look on his face though that he wants to confess his dire situation to Hagrid. The giant of a man helps everyone with their problems so this shouldn't be any different. I nudge Harry in the ribs and gesture for him to speak, but before he can Hagrid beams a big smile.
"Yeh're goin' ter win," Hagrid growls, patting Harry's shoulder again, so that Harry actually feels himself sink a couple of inches into the soft ground. "I know it. I can feel it. Yeh're goin' ter win, Harry."
I watch as my friend clamps his mouth shut, and puts on a grim smile before turning to look at the unicorns like he's fascinated with them like the rest. Before I can go after my friend, I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder. I look up at Hagrid who now has a solemn look on his face.
"Yer goin' ter look after him right?" Hagrid says quietly so that no one overhears us. I bite my lip, and nod solemnly to the man. "Good… good." He says before stomping over to the students and the foals.
The evening before the second task was not a pleasant one. While everyone else in the castle was festive and rambunctious Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I are holed up in the library desperately looking for any last minute miracles that might save our friend from being drowned in the lake tomorrow.
"I don't reckon it can be done," says 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 mutters, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes are 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. "They'd never have set a task that was undoable."
"They have," counters 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. Best you can do, mate." Harry looks rather dejected after that plan of action.
I sigh and rub my hands over my face trying to see if that will wake me up from this nightmare that I currently find myself stuck in. My friend is going to drown tomorrow, if I don't manage to pull some kind of miracle out of my hat.
"There's a way of doing it!" Hermione says crossly. "There just has to be!" She seems to be taking the library's lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it has never failed her before.
"I know what I should have done," says Harry, resting, facedown, on Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts. "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius." An Animagus is a wizard who can transform into an animal.
"Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!" says Ron.
"Would a goldfish actually be helpful in this competition?" I wonder aloud.
"Or a frog," yawns Harry. He looks exhausted.
"How would you hold onto anything?" I ponder again.
"It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything," says 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," says Harry wearily. "I know I haven't got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning. . . ."
"Oh this is no use," Hermione says, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. I jump in shock at the sudden loud noise, and the fact that Hermione is actually giving up on books and the library. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"
I cough to cover up my chuckle of laughter. I may be dead tired but I can still find things hilarious. "I wouldn't mind," says Fred Weasley's voice. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I look up. Fred and George have just emerged from behind some bookshelves. I smile at them merrily, happy to see my redheaded twins again.
"What're you two doing here?" Ron asks.
"Good point I don't think I've ever seen you two ever voluntarily set foot in the library before." I say narrowing my eyes at them. The boys hold their hands up to placate me.
"Looking for you," says George. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione." I furrow my brow at that. Why only them?
"Why?" asks Hermione, looking surprised.
"Dunno . . . she was looking a bit grim, though," says Fred.
"We're supposed to take you down to her office," explains George. The four of us share a worried look. Nothing more can go wrong than it already is. I don't think that we could honestly suffer another set back at the moment.
"We'll meet you back in the common room," Hermione tells Harry and me as she gets up to go with Ron — both of them look very anxious. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"
"Right," says Harry uneasily. By eight o'clock, Madam Pince has extinguished all the lamps and comes to chivvy Harry and me out of the library. Staggering under the weight of as many books as we can carry, we return to the Gryffindor common room, pull a table into a corner, and continue to search. There is 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.
The words are beginning to spin in front of me I've been staring at so many pages. Suddenly Harry closes one of the books with a loud thump, waking me up, and startling Crookshanks as he stands up. "That's it back to the library. There must be something there for us to find." Harry mutters, looking somewhat like a madman.
He disappears up to his dorm and comes down with the cloak. "You coming Jamie?" He asks me distractedly, his eyes bloodshot as I know mine must be. With a stifled yawn, and a nod of my head, I slip under the cloak beside Harry, ready to go and spend the night in the library. If only Luka could see me now.
The wind is whipping through my hair as I soar around the Quidditch pitch. The quaffle is tucked securely under my arm, and I'm rolling left and right around opposing players knowing that none of them can touch me. Just as I'm about to rear back and the quaffle loose at one of the posts, reality comes crashing back, in the form of a poke to my cheek.
That does the trick in waking me from my wonderful dream only to be shocked by the large bulbous eyes staring back at me. With a small jump I detach from the water charms book I had been resting on. "Dobby!" I cry blinking rapidly to adjust to the fact that I'm not in my bed in the dorm, but rather in the library.
An equally bleary looking Harry is groaning from his place beside me. Yes, that's right we fell asleep looking for something to save Harry last night. With rapidly falling spirits I realize that we still had yet to find anything to help him. This was not going to be good.
"Harry Potter needs to hurry!" squeaks Dobby. "The second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter —"
"Ten minutes?" I croak. "Ten — ten minutes?" I look down at my watch. Dobby is right. It is twenty past nine. A large, dead weight seems to fall through my chest into my stomach. I look at Harry, and see the crushed look on his face as well. We've run out of time.
"Hurry, Harry Potter!" squeaks 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 says hopelessly. "I'm not doing the task, I don't know how —"
"Harry Potter will do the task!" squeaks the elf. "Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so Dobby did it for him!"
"What?" says 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 —" Wait a minute find his Wheezy? Oh, I do not like the sound of that. Please tell me that the reason Ron and Hermione disappeared on us is not the reason that I think it is.
"Find my what?" Harry demands.
"— 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 plucks at the shrunken maroon sweater he is now wearing over his shorts.
"What?" Harry gasps. "They've got . . . they've got Ron?"
"This is really not good." I say jumping to my feet, and jamming my feet back into my shoes. Why on earth would Hermione go missing as well?
"The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!" squeaks Dobby. "'But past an hour —'"
"— 'the prospect's black,'" Harry recites, 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!" squeaks the elf, and he puts his hand in the pocket of his shorts and draws out a ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails. "Right before you go into the lake, sir — gillyweed!"
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to keep my empty stomach from riling against me. That has to be some of the most disgusting looking plants that I have ever seen before.
"What's it do?" Harry asks, staring at the gillyweed.
"Besides being disgusting." I supply.
"It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!"
"Dobby," says Harry frantically, "listen — are you sure about this?" We both can't quite forget that the last time Dobby tried to "help" him, Harry had ended up with no bones in his right arm.
"Dobby is quite sure, sir!" says 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!"
That is enough for us. With a quick shout of thanks at Dobby, Harry grabs the gillyweed, and we tear out of the library. Now it's a race against time to get him to the competition before it starts.
We sprint along the corridor and down the stairs, three at a time. The entrance hall contains 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 stare as Harry, and I flash past, sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as we leap down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds.
As we pound down the lawn we see that the seats that encircled the dragons' enclosure in November are now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that are packed to the bursting point and reflect in the lake below. I separate from Harry with a quick 'good luck', and go to find a place to sit and watch. Oh who am I kidding, I will worry as well.
I slowly make my way through the roaring, boisterous crowd. I look for crimson and gold in a mass of bodies. Finally I'm able to spot a familiar pair of flaming red heads, along with my brother who is jumping up and down, while waving his hand to get my attention like a mad man. I push past some third year Ravenclaws as I finally managed to get to the benches where they're sat. It looks like they've even managed to save me a seat.
"Jamie! There you are! I was afraid that you were going to miss the task! We haven't been able to fine you, Harry, Hermione, or Ron all morning!" Luka shouts at me attempting to be heard over the ruckus. Fred and George crowd close to us so that they can hear as well.
"Harry and I slept in the library! We literally woke up like ten minutes ago!" I say, watching the shocked looks on their faces. I don't notice that I have another avid listener until I double take at the image of Ariana sitting next to Luka. My mouth goes dry for some reason, and I self consciously run my near frozen fingers through my hair.
I had totally forgotten to dress warmer since I was up all night. I was only wearing my winter school uniform and that wasn't nearly enough protection. Before I can even mention the cold, and my shivering, there's a warm cloak being draped over my shoulders. I look down at it in shock noticing how it fits my form fairly well, and look back up to the now pink-cheeked girl.
She's wearing a thick winter pull over and pants, so she's not even shivering yet. Noticing that I've been staring, Ariana crosses her arms over her chest with a huff of annoyance. "Well I couldn't just stand there and let you freeze could I? You'd be like a frozen puppy, and I would be blamed for letting you get frost bite." She defends herself.
I don't notice the knowing smirks plastered on each of the Weasley twins' faces, nor the subtly of the money exchanging hands. Luka just looks confused about what's going on. I smile at the young Dumbledore in thanks, before tuning back in to the craziness around us.
Fred and George start hollering for last minute bets to take place, and Luka starts groaning about who could have possibly been so daft as to put a water based competition in February. I meanwhile slip my arms through the sleeves of the cloak, and wrap it around me securely, all the while attempting not to worry too much about my friends.
"They'll be all right… they have to be." I say softly, thinking that I'm not heard. That is until a mittened hand slips into mine, and I glance over at warm chocolate eyes.
"Grandfather wouldn't let anything happen to them. When I heard about what this task would entail, I swore to him that if it involved you in danger in anyway that I would never speak to him again. He promised." Ariana tells me just as softly. I bite my lip again, and give her warm hand a squeeze.
Suddenly an amplified throat clearing sounds over the stands, and everyone quiets down into a low whisper. It looks like the task is about to begin. "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 voice of Ludo Bagman booms over everyone.
The whistle echoes shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupt with cheers and applause. I watch with bated breath as Krum, Fleur, and Cedric dive into the water, as Harry sort of stumbles around clawing at his throat. My breath catches in my chest as I watch my friend tumble into the water face first. Its quiet around our little group, as we wait for some sign that Harry is okay.
"Come on Harry." Luka says, surprising me at his firm support of my friend. Luka has been so against Harry and the trouble that he's caused that I'm surprised that he's not silently happy. Before I can worry about anything too much though, Harry surfaces from the water with a backflip.
His feet have become long and webbed, and there seem to be gills on the side of his neck. Well I guess that a goldfish wasn't too far off from his original prediction. Soon all of the action was deep below the surface of the lake and there was no way that we would be able to see any of the action going on down there. Nervous, anxious, and suspenseful chatter broke out among the students in the crowd. The hour was very quickly coming to pass and none of the champions were making it back to the surface.
What if this really was a task designed to be impossible? What if all three of my best friends are now set to die? The hour mark is up, and everyone is staring expectantly at the judges and the water. That is until Fleur Delacour surfaces from the water, though it is without the person or treasure that she went down for.
The Beauxbatons students let up a mournful cry as the rest of the students cheer. Well that's at least one champion down three to go. Not long after Fleur the damp golden head of Cedric Diggory surfaces with a sputtering Cho Chang in his arms. Well I guess it wasn't really all that shocking that Cho was chosen as his treasure.
I don't bother to listen to Bagman as he goes on exalting Diggory, even though Ariana is cheering for him. All I can think about is that she's still holding my hand, not his.
Next to come up is Krum and with him the thoroughly soaked form of my best friend in the whole wide world. "Hermione!" I cry, jerking to a stand, and shaking out of Ariana's hold to go racing out of the stands and over to the shore where the wet champions, judges, and Madam Pomfrey are.
I dodge and swerve around people until I'm at her. She's bundled up in a thick blanket, drinking a concoction of the matron's which literally has smoke coming out of her ears. "Mione!" I cry throwing myself at the girl. She barely has time to hold her arms out to catch me. I don't care that she's wet, only that she's safe and back with me.
I'm not allowing Krum to take her away again (yes I know I'm not being fair). "I'm soaking wet Jamie! You're getting wet, and I'm just fine." Hermione says patting my back to try and get me to calm down. There's suddenly a commotion and we both turn to look at the surface of the lake to see Harry finally pop up with Ron, and what looks like a small blond girl.
Hermione and I both let out relived breathes of air. As soon as the trio make it to the surface Madam Pomfrey is fussing over them. I manage to smile at them before Fleur is running up to them shouting for a Gabrielle. I watch as the young girl is swooped up into the arms of the blond beauty. The girl looks to be no more than ten, so I'm curious as to what she's doing here at Hogwarts for the competition in the first place.
After some time I manage to hug and reassure myself that both Harry and Ron are indeed fine, the four of us finally back together and relatively in one piece. All that's left is for the winners to be announced.
Ron was very busily and animatedly talking about how he Fleur Delacour actually kissed him (though I remind him countlessly that it wasn't on the mouth). Suddenly the crowd hushes for the judges have come to a decision.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus 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." Applause from the stands.
"I deserved zero," says 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; I see Cho give Cedric a glowing look (and also the scowl on Harry's face). "We therefore award him forty-seven points."
"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." Well this is definitely turning out to be interesting I hope that Harry's stupid nobility helped him out somewhat.
"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continues. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess 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."
Ron, Hermione, and I give Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks. "Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gives Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However . . . Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."
Well that is most certainly something to celebrate, and celebrate we did indeed, all the way back to the castle to change into some dry clothes. I have to admit that I was a little late to the party for Harry (now tied in first place with Cedric) for I was busy returning the cloak that Ariana had lent to me.
"I'm sorry for getting lake water on it. I— I just really needed to see my friends." I tell her bashfully. Ariana chuckles, and takes the wet garment back into her possession.
"No worries, water will dry out. Besides, you were just worried for your friends. They're lucky to have such a fantastic friend like you Jamie." She tells me drawing me in for a quick hug. "I am too." She says softly before releasing me, and hurrying back towards the kitchens so that she can get back to her dormitory.
I stand there frozen for a second before a smile lights up my face. Today turned out to be a wonderful day after all. My best friends didn't die, and my other friend decided to forgive me. Now if only I could figure out what had made her so upset in the first place?
It is safe to say that all critical thoughts were out of my head as soon as I made it into the festive common room. Did I forget to mention that I love common room parties thrown by the twins?