Bidding farewell to Ron and Hermione, Harry slipped out of the common room sometime after midnight, armed with an invisible cloak, map, and the golden egg tucked under his arm. Navigating the vacant corridors was a clumsy affair. The map kept flapping up and down in his hand, the egg was heavy, smooth surface making it difficult to hold, and the cloak kept slipping off him.

Several long minutes later, Harry found the entrance to the prefects' bathroom, fortunately without encountering anyone on his way. Muttering the password Cedric gave him, Harry snuck in once the door opened with a loud screech, and locked it swiftly.

To say the bathroom was spacious would be an understatement.

It's worth becoming a prefect just for this, Harry thought as he looked around in awe. Everything was so polished, clean, and decorated. Instead of a bathtub, there was a literal pool sitting in the middle of the facilities, inviting Harry in with its needless extravagance.

Not wasting precious time, Harry listened to the pool's calling and briskly turned on all the faucets, filling the pool quickly. Borrowing a towel from the shelves, he stripped and plunged into the shallow water. He waited until his chest was submerged and then turned off the stream, swallowing the nervousness forming at the back of his throat.

He had never been in the water this deep before. The Dursleys did sign up Dudley for summer swimming lessons when he was younger, but Harry's name was never on the list. Harry was never let anywhere near a pool before and the Black Lake was the first lake he'd ever seen. Thus, he was never on good terms with anything water-related. He didn't have a phobia or anything, more like... severe lack of experience with swimming.

And now, this lack of experience was proving to be a problem, when Harry found himself lingering in the corner of the pool, unable to release his hold on one of the edges.

I should have made it shallower.

Several seconds passed, leaving him wondering what to do next. Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, Harry recalled Cedric's advice. The older boy instructed him to "take a bath," and "ponder on it," but now that Harry did as he was told, he was starting to feel stupid. How was standing in a pool supposed to solve the egg mystery?

Despite better judgement, he reached for the golden object, wet fingers fighting with the shiny surface.

One breath in, then out, Harry braced himself, praying and hoping it would work... and twisted the egg open.

Loud shrieks flooded the bathroom, bouncing around the tiled walls, echoing in Harry's ears. He was so startled the egg slipped from his hands and fell into the water with a splash. Palms instinctively coming up to the sides of his head, Harry realized he needed not to shield himself from the loud sound anymore.

It was quiet.

Confused, his gaze dipped down to the water's surface, noticing a faint glow coming from underneath his feet.

Oh, right. He dropped the egg.

"Brilliant," Harry huffed in frustration, submerging his free hand (the other was clenching the edge of the pool again for support), and felt around himself the best he could, trying to reach the damned object. It quickly became apparent that without making a dive for it, the egg would not float to the surface on its own accord. Harry tried to use his foot to somehow bring it upward, but then he almost slipped doing so and promptly abandoned the idea.

Drawing a few breaths, Harry shut his eyes and sunk down. It was like a band-aid, he had to do it quickly and not think about it. Water engulfed him, but surprisingly, it wasn't as unpleasant as he feared.

"... cannot sing above the ground,..."

Harry almost drowned when an unexpected melody sounded in his ears. Straightening his legs, he rushed to the surface and to much-needed air. Some of the soapy water got into his nose, causing him a coughing fit.

After calming his burning throat down, things went well. Harry connected the dots and dived under the water again, this time prepared. The riddle wasn't long but it took him a few listens actually to remember it word for word.

It was after Harry drained the pool he realized he could have done it before retrieving the egg, saving himself from the diving adventure. Not that he wasn't glad about solving the mystery, but if it wasn't for his slower wits and luck on his side, he would have left the bathroom fuming and empty-handed.

Cedric better not be this cryptic next time.

Drying himself carelessly, Harry quickly dressed and made his way out. If only he didn't check the map and saw Crouch's name on it his night would have been much more peaceful.

He knew he shouldn't have done it. He vividly imagined Hermione's "don't do it" warning she would surely bestow upon him if she knew what he was about to do. Well, Harry did it anyway.

His legs turned the wrong corner of their own volition, and suddenly, he was sneaking around the vacant corridors towards the dungeons. What's Crouch doing here? Wasn't he sick? Why is he at Hogwarts in the depths of the night? And in Snape's office, no less?

It all made little sense, and Harry needed answers. The situation was too strange not to be worth investigating. Harry never managed to tame his curiosity, and he wasn't about to start doing it now.

As it turned out, curiosity wasn't the only thing he ought to get a hold of; his stealth skills were likewise in line for improvement. While Harry attempted to descend the stairs leading to the dungeons in silence, his eyes never left the map and Crouch's name. However, he wasn't very successful in making no noise, not when the wet golden egg slipped out of his fingers as Harry stumbled on a faulty wooden plank, not when the said egg rolled down the stairs with a deafening rattle, and definitely not when the cursed object opened on its own and started shrieking.

But that wasn't all. The map fell out of his hands in a similarly pathetic manner, and the cloak slipped off him. Harry felt that the only thing he didn't manage to lose in a span of three seconds was his sanity, but then he heard steps, and suddenly, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Barely managing to hide properly, Harry crouched down with his cloak serving as the sole defence against Filch and Mrs Norris, who had just arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Harry hadn't even noticed him on the map before, so focused he was on monitoring Crouch.

If the circumstances were different, it would have felt nostalgic - had Harry had the time to reminisce about all the instances Filch almost caught him sneaking around since his first year. But Harry didn't have the time or the mood. The loud shrieks were torturing his eardrums, his heartbeat quickening with every passing second, and Mrs Norris was getting dangerously close to where he was currently hiding.

Why did I use so much soap? Harry lamented briefly, realizing the cat could probably smell him from miles away. At least Filch was prompt in silencing the egg, saving them from otherwise inevitable deafness.

"Peeves!" he yelled, concluding that it must have been the poltergeist ghost who stole the golden egg from one of the Champions. Harry wasn't going to correct him.

"Peeves, show yourself!" Filch demanded, his eyes roaming around the hallway.

Harry's gaze was on the map a few steps down, and he desperately wished Filch wouldn't notice it. For a brief moment, Harry contemplated whether he should try to move and recover the parchment, but then thought better of it. The stairs creaked under lesser weight than his own.

He was stuck.

Despite Harry's prayers, Filch didn't look like he was about to vacate the space. He kept mumbling about Peeves and how Dumbledore would fire him for theft.

Leave. Come on, turn around and leave... Harry urged him, but Filch decided to start ascending the stairs instead, briskly moving towards Harry.

Harry's heart was in his throat while he watched the old man in the velvet sleeping robe approach him. Mrs Norris was already close enough, and Harry knew he was about to be caught...

"Filch!"

The janitor stopped a few steps below Harry, dangerously near the map, and turned around.

The voice belonged to the only person capable of worsening this whole ordeal - Snape.

Harry was painfully reminded of the threat Snape uttered just yesterday, the promise of months' worth of detention should Harry be found out after curfew one more time.

But this time, I'm not sleepwalking, so maybe it would be fine... right, as if consciously breaking the rules was better than doing it unintentionally.

"What's going on?" Snape asked and closed the distance between him and Filch in the span of a breath.

Harry gritted his teeth, convinced his pounding heart was about to give him away.

"Peeves, professor!" Filch dutifully informed him. "He's stolen the egg and threw it down the stairs."

"Peeves?" Snape echoed quietly, eyeing the golden object. Then, doubtfully, he asked, "Are you sure?"

His scornful gaze was enough to make Filch squirm uncomfortably, and Harry felt oddly grateful it wasn't directed at him - yet.

"Well... Who else could it be?" Filch muttered reluctantly, proving his claims were more wishful thinking than facts.

"Seems like it cannot be ruled out that someone of a physical body is behind this," Snape briskly concluded, and Harry cursed inwardly. Snape was too smart for his own good, as always.

"Maybe, but Peeves was..." Filch started again, his objective to bring trouble to the ghost clear as day.

"I heard some commotion..." Snape interrupted him.

"Yes, that was the egg..." Filch supplied, only to be interrupted again.

"...so I came to investigate..."

"...Peeves threw it down the stairs."

"...only to see my office door wide open and the room lit."

"But Peeves couldn't..."

"Of course, he couldn't, Filch! That's what I'm trying to say," Snape hissed, his face showing how much he was enjoying the conversation. Not. "Someone broke into my office, someone capable enough to dispel my protection wards. Someone who certainly wasn't a ghost!"

Crouch. Harry realized, but if anything, he was more confused than before. If only he hadn't stumbled on the stairs, he fumed regretfully.

"The burglar couldn't have gotten far. We have to look for him and inform Dumbledore," Snape all but barked out the order at Filch, who seemed less than happy to heed it.

Yes, go to Dumbledore... Harry once again urged them, but then another pair of heavy steps were heard, and Harry was once again reminded of all his misfortune.

Moody. It was Moody. Moody with his special powerful eye, which pierced right through the invisibility cloak and landed on Harry. For a split moment, their eyes met.

"What's this, a pyjama party?!" he thundered, scrutinizing Filch and Snape up and down. The magical eye lingered on Harry for a second longer before turning elsewhere. If he was surprised to see Harry in his weird predicament, Moody didn't show it. Maybe it's an auror thing.

Harry didn't even breathe. He vaguely noticed that indeed, everyone present was dressed in their night robes. It would be an odd and probably humorous sight if Harry wasn't close to having a heart attack from all the people pouring in left and right. He just hoped the rest of the school wouldn't swing by to pay them a visit too, now that they were having a private pyjama moment.

"We heard commotion; it was Peeves of course, and then Professor Snape found out someone has broken..." The hiss Snape made could compete with that of a Basilisk. His most menacing glare was gifted to Filch, whose squirming got worse. At least, it made the man stop talking.

Moody limped closer to the pair, his cane making ominous knocking sounds. "Someone has broken into your office, Snape? Did I hear that correctly?"

Snape turned around to face Moody properly so Harry could no longer see his expression, but the discomfort radiating from Snape's stance was palpable.

"That's of little importance," the Potions Master tried to dodge the subject, his voice cold. "What matters is that someone is roaming the corridors as we speak, someone who has possession of the golden egg, someone with a history of sneaking around with absolute disregard for rules..."

Harry's throat closed up. Yes, his heart was beating madly, he was barely breathing, cold sweat coating his forehead... but now he felt like he was going to suffocate. He wondered if his name was Harry James Someone Potter because Snape could have just as well addressed him properly.

"I wasn't aware we were going to play guessing games, I would have prepared my own questions," Moody countered, not swayed by what Snape was heavily (and correctly) implying.

"Potter is wandering the castle, possibly unaware of himself." Snape stated unnervingly, ignoring Moody's remark, "I've had the displeasure of finding him in an incoherent state twice already. It wouldn't be unwise to find him before he starts to pose a danger to others." He spoke slowly, his voice almost diplomatic at the end.

"But that doesn't answer the question about the intruder in your office, does it?" Moody pointed out, eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding, Snape?"

"Nothing," the professor seethed through gritted teeth. "You, of all people, should know."

"So you're leading us to scatter away and look for Potter, who is surely sleeping in his bed as we speak, out of the goodness of your heart."

Snape kept silent. One, two seconds passed.

"Do you know what I think, Snape?" Moody challenged him.

"Fortunately, I don't."

"I think we could either go take a peek at the famous office of yours, together, or you can take your complaining elsewhere - to Dumbledore, presumably. Nobody else will willingly listen to your accusations anyway. You can even look for Potter on your way, though I recommend starting at his dorm."

Another silence. It was surreal seeing Snape cornered like this. Harry's respect for Moody skyrocketed, and he swore he'd never make fun of him and his paranoia again.

For once, Harry wasn't scared about Snape looking for him - the man would sooner swallow frog tongues than visit the Gryffindor Tower. As on cue, Snape grunted angrily and stormed down the stairs without another word. He looked strange without his robes billowing behind him, but seeing Snape's cloak-less back disappearing around a corner made Harry sigh in relief.

Now, only Filch remained. He kept his presence scarce before, probably out of fear of being caught up between the two arguing professors. Luckily, Moody dealt with him in a much brisker manner, all but roaring at the janitor to give him the egg and go look for his little ghost since he's so insistent.

Filch shuffled away with Mrs Norris, murmuring in exasperation under his breath.

When the air was finally clear, Harry stepped out of his hiding, not looking forward to the chat with Moody.

"Thank you," he quickly expressed his gratitude in an attempt to douse the disapproval in Moody's eyes.

"That was reckless," the professor scolded him, shoving the egg into Harry's hands. "Snape looked ready to wake the whole castle up and look for you, Potter. And what was that about you wandering the corridors mindlessly?"

"Oh, that..." Harry felt a blush creeping up his neck. He didn't want the professors to know about his sleepwalking habit – Snape was more than enough. "I've been having, some, err, night episodes lately."

Moody sized him up and down, his magical eye flicking everywhere. Harry felt proud for not fidgeting nervously.

"Did you solve it?" he then asked, gesturing towards the egg. The change of topic was welcomed.

"Yes," Harry admitted, omitting how solving the mystery had everything to do with luck and nothing with his wits.

"Good," Moody nodded approvingly, and then his gaze fixated on the ground somewhere next to him.

Harry realized a second later what caught Moody's attention, but the professor was already seizing the map in his hand.

"What's this?" he asked, staring at the open parchment.

"That's, er, mine," Harry stated awkwardly, fingers itching to grab the map out of Moody's hands.

"Merlin's beard! That's some map, Potter!" the professor exclaimed once he realized what he was looking at.

"Yeah." His hands were up in the air, hovering near the parchment but not taking it. Moody did earn his respect minutes ago, so Harry only passively waited until the professor decided to return the map. Which he didn't.

"Did you see, then?" Moody suddenly asked. "Who broke into Snape's office?"

"Actually, yes... I did," he confessed. "It was Mr Crouch."

Moody's eyes snapped up to Harry; he suddenly looked afraid.

"Crouch? Are you- are you sure?" he inquired quietly.

"Absolutely," Harry nodded, feeling puzzled.

Their following conversation about Crouch was brief and uninformative, and Moody looked snappy. Harry wanted to ask what made him so distressed, and then he actually did ask, only getting a vague answer in return.

Then, Moody inquired if he could borrow the map. Harry couldn't say no, not after the professor helped him. So he agreed, silently saying his goodbyes to the treasured parchment. They parted ways shortly after, and Harry hurried back to the common room, where Ron and Hermione were waiting in anticipation.

Harry didn't tell his friends everything right away. The exhaustion crashed down on him once he crossed the threshold of the Gryffindor Tower, and he yearned for nothing more than his bed and peaceful sleep.

Which, given his sleepwalking tendency, was not likely to happen. He brushed off Ron and Hermione's questions with a half-hearted apology, waving at them to wait until he retrieved the potion Snape had given him a day prior.

Hermione checked the purple vial with hidden interest, and after a quick trip to her room and several flipped pages later, she claimed it was indeed Dreamless Sleep, safe for consumption. Harry thanked her tiredly, promising to tell the pair everything in the morning, and went to bed.

He drowned half the potion, grimacing at the taste, and laid down. Sleep claimed him soon enough. Harry's slumber was tranquil and undisturbed, and when he woke up the next morning in the haven of his bed, he couldn't suppress a relieved smile.

They grabbed sandwiches for breakfast and found a quiet corner of the castle, where the trio settled. It wasn't entirely private, but it was better than the bursting Great Hall.

They had less than half an hour before their first period, but Harry reckoned it would be enough.

He did receive two prompting glares when he decided to take a bite of his food before talking, so he abandoned the idea of eating and finally started his tale.

First, he retold his pool experience, reciting the riddle he had so dutifully learned.

"Merpeople and Black Lake, obviously," Hermione breathed out when Harry finished. "But what are they going to take from you?" she murmured, more to herself than to the boys.

"Well, definitely not the Marauders map, Moody did as much yesterday," he chirped in, starting the second part of his story.

Ron's eyebrows furrowed as he listened, and he groaned when he heard Snape's name, remarking, "That git is everywhere!". When Harry mentioned Crouch, Ron's confusion hit new heights.

"Are you sure it was him? Because it makes no sense, Percy has been doing a lot of ministry work because Crouch is supposedly sick."

Harry shot him a look.

"Well, unless the map was wrong, which Lupin assured me last year was never the case, then I'm sure I saw Crouch's name in Snape's office."

Ron shrugged, and they both turned helplessly to Hermione, waiting to hear her thoughts.

"It's... odd," she admitted slowly, "but I believe we should focus on the second task. I'm quite worried about the "an hour long you'll have to look" part."

Harry was worried too. He didn't have the energy to think about the Tournament yesterday; now that he gave it proper attention, he was beginning to see potential problems.

Black Lake, merpeople, a thing he'll greatly miss, and an hour-long time limit...

It was pretty straightforward.

The conclusion he reached made Harry dizzy; the second task consisted of him, in the water, taking an hour-long swim.

Brilliant.

"We should head to the library during the free period and lunch break as well. I have a feeling this is not going to be easy..."

Hermione hammered on his anxiety one last time and stood up. Ron and Harry followed suit with grim expressions.

Because Harry had promised Sirius to tell him if anything weird happened at Hogwarts, he sent him a letter the same day. He mentioned Crouch and his strange visit to Snape's office and reluctantly, with Hermione's urging, his sleepwalking habit.

Then, his full attention was elsewhere, the trio threw themselves at the books, and they spent so much time in the library they practically lived there.

Because Hermione was right. It wasn't easy. It wasn't difficult either. It was freaking impossible.

After a full week of searching, they had a grand total of zero ideas about how Harry should survive a full hour underwater. On top of that, Harry still hadn't found the right moment to inform his best friends about the fact he didn't know how to swim.

He did his separate research on the matter - but it was going as smoothly as solving the underwater problem. Terribly. Seemingly, every wizard was born with the knowledge of how to swim because there wasn't one spell that would make Harry float. Not that he needed to stay above the water level, but if anything, he didn't want to drown in the middle of trying to complete the task.

Everything was a mess. It almost made Harry miss the first task and the Hungarian Horntail. He idly wondered if they could just repeat the battle with the dragon instead of this Black Lake charade. Yeah, probably not.