The first day back from winter break, Harry was out at the quidditch pitch with his friends giving them each turns on his Firebolt. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw fourth-years had a free flying period after lunch. The other Ravenclaws that weren't Padma seemed pretty jealous.

"We're never going to win against Gryffindor now," Terry Boot complained.

Harry shrugged, overhearing, admitting, "I'm not actually sure it's quidditch-legal. I was going to let Ginny keep using my Nimbus."

"I'd have to concur," Madam Hooch agreed, overseeing the children trying out the meteor-fast broom. "I can't even tell half of the charms running on that thing."

"Would… you like a turn, ma'am?" Harry offered.

She blinked her hawklike eyes and eventually nodded, "I wouldn't say no."

While Hooch was taking her turn, moving at a frankly insane clip that she'd cautioned the students not to emulate, Harry was surprised to see an adult man he didn't recognize bearing across the pitch toward him. Indeterminately-middle-aged, slightly-stocky, and wearing hair the color of rich wood in a ponytail, Harry would have been inclined to compare him to Elrond even before spotting the ears. He was wearing a thick set of robes against the cold of the winter afternoon.

"Harry Potter, if I might trouble you for a word?" he asked, when he was within earshot.

"Probably Fleur's dad," Harry said quietly to Dean. They'd heard that several of the parents of students at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had chosen to spend some of the holidays in Hogsmeade, rather than figure out how to get their children back home for two weeks. They were supposedly heading back on the Hogwarts Express to a part of Vanaheim where they could teleport later that evening.

"We'll keep an eye out if he tries to kill you," his best friend nodded.

"I don't think that will be necessary," the elf gave a faint smile, obviously his pointed ears good for hearing. His accent was less pronounced than Fleur's or Madame Maxime's.

Harry walked towards him, and they began to stroll along the pitch, Harry's friends keeping watch but not moving closer. "Sorry, sir, you're Fleur's father?" Harry asked.

"Well deduced. You may call me Maréchal," the man agreed.

"I'm guessing that's also your title," Harry nodded. "You're a war-leader?"

"Something of the sort," Maréchal shrugged. "Fortunately, life has been peaceful for many years. And hopefully it will remain so."

"You haven't been getting marauders?"

"A few. The physical location of Alfheim remains a secret to most, and our night roads fewer than Vanaheim. The ones that do make it, however, are able to rely upon their technology unlike those that come here."

Harry nodded, "Fleur mentioned that you use technology. I guess I hadn't thought that it would be a liability."

"You have spoken to my daughter often?" Maréchal asked pointedly.

"We've been cooperating to plan for the challenges, sir," Harry agreed. "Nobody wants any of us to get injured or die."

"Wise. It was my hope that she would not participate in this deathtrap, for all that it does raise her standing in the eyes of the court. Why did you enter, young as you are?"

"Honestly, sir, I expected that if I didn't enter myself, I'd wind up entered somehow anyway," Harry admitted. "Plus, I kind of wanted the world to give me credit for something I did when I wasn't a baby."

"Ah, yes. This is, presumably, also why you accompany the aurors to save troubled villages on your holidays?" the man asked.

"Well, that one was just because I was out with my cousin, who's an auror, and it was easier for me to help than to leave her to go alone." Harry was wondering where this conversation was going. "I guess that made the papers?"

"It is not the only thing that made them. I shall come to the point: what are your intentions toward my daughter?"

Ah, right. Harry had been vaguely aware that Christine, under her pen name, had been reporting on Harry's involvement with Fleur. She was being extremely generous, but they were public figures that her readers would want to know about. Nothing in the articles was secrets she'd spied on them for, at least, but everyone had seen them at the ball. "She explained her situation to me, sir. I'm not trying to mess up her chance to marry royalty." He was also shielding heavily, just in case her father's empathy was even better than hers.

Maréchal nodded, a bit sadly. "Then I shall not have to warn you away, simply reiterate the warning already provided. Famous though you may be… I have much higher hopes for my daughter. And my world's safety may depend on a good match."

"That's a lot to put on someone, sir," Harry said, his willingness to be deferential to a parent only going so far. "Er, respectfully."

"On demandera beaucoup à qui l'on a beaucoup donné," the man quoted. "A saying from your dominant Midgard religion: 'Those who have been given the most, are asked the most.'"

"Some of us were never actually asked," Harry disagreed. "But it's not my place to get in her way. I have all my own stuff that people want me to do."

"Then I believe we understand one another, and I shall bid you adieu and good luck on your own responsibilities," Maréchal concluded. He gave a slight bow and broke off from Harry, strolling away from the pitch.

"What did he want?" Hermione asked, as Harry walked back over.

"To tell me to stay the hell away from his daughter. Politely."

"Tough break," Dean said. "Who you going to ask to Hogsmeade in two weeks?"

"Fleur," Harry shrugged. Everyone was staring at him in shock and he explained, "If she doesn't want to go with me because it will upset him, then fine, I get it. But he's not my dad. He doesn't tell me what to do."

He didn't actually have a chance to talk to Fleur until the challengers got together for swimming practice that weekend: nobody was particularly keen on trying to do it in the evenings of the week after the sun had gone down. Of the study group, only Hermione and Dean made it. For Hermione, it was a chance to spend time with Viktor. For Dean, it was just because he was kind of a crazy person, when it came to exercise.

"What is zat?" Fleur asked, as Harry pulled out his breathing apparatus. She had acquired the elvish equivalent of a dry suit over the vacation, and the form-fitting, intricately-stitched gray fabric was very distracting as she gingerly walked into the water to get acclimated.

"Looks like snorkel?" Viktor said, somehow standing in the frigid lake in just black swimming trunks and a tank top. "But ve may go too deep for too long for that to help? If it is full SCUBA system, you are missing the oxygen."

"I have tanks, too," Harry explained. His own tight-fitting wetsuit was in Gryffindor red. "But Sirius helped me enchant the regulator so it doesn't need them. Well… I helped Sirius. A little."

The SCUBA system had been one of Harry's presents from his aunt, but Sirius had figured it was silly to rely on the giant air tanks. Harry had just enough runes knowledge to almost follow what Sirius had been doing, and to hand him the tools while he worked.

"Oh!" Hermione realized, in a nice one-piece swimsuit that she could only tolerate because of warming magic and because Viktor couldn't keep his eyes off of it. "Is it using something like the mirror to connect to air somewhere else that it can portal from?"

"Nah," Harry shook his head. "It's a perpetual motion problem. If you enchanted something to permanently send air underwater, you could just, like, put it underwater and let the air bubbles turn a generator or something. That energy has to come from somewhere."

"But… sling ring portals can make stuff fall through them," Dean said, grasping the problem with potential energy imbalances as he splashed around in his own swim trunks and long-sleeved shirt, not being much more warmly dressed than Viktor or Hermione.

"And portals are short-lived, and use your own energy to open and maintain," Hermione realized. "If you tried to, say, put a portal above and below a waterwheel, you'd be using more of your personal energy to keep it open than you'd get from the wheel being turned. It's just physics."

"Right," Harry nodded. Sirius had explained all of that to him, but now he got to sound like the expert, at least until he realized, "Magically splitting water into hydrogen and oxygen is… well, I'm not sure how it's easier, honestly. Probably because it's just making enough for me to breathe, and it isn't always on."

"Vanishing cabinets," Viktor volunteered. When they all looked at him curious about the seeming non-sequitur, he elaborated, "Have seen one in shop in Goblin Market. They are entangled. Close something in one, it appears in the other. May even bypass limitations on portals. They are rare though. Shop owner doesn't know how they vork, or vhere the other one of his is."

Hermione started thinking, "If you actually have to close and open the doors, it at least doesn't let you make a permanently falling waterfall or something, so that might account for some of it…" Viktor gave her a fond look as she started talking to herself to try to work through the magical physics.

"So what are you guys using to breathe?" Harry checked. They'd all planned to work it out over the break.

Fleur waved her hands around her head and a weird globe of distortion appeared, then quickly collapsed. "I still need to work on it. I basically convince ze world zat zere is air around my 'ead. It's a complicated glamour, mixed wiz manipulation of forces." For all that they had some shared blood with humans, none of the elves of Beauxbatons seemed to be able to manifest the orange personal energy constructs that were common for Vanir and Midgardian wizards. Instead, their workings were supposedly more similar to the Svartalves and the Aesir.

Cedric had been quiet up until then, slowly acclimating to the water in the barely-streamlined linen robes that passed as a Vanir swimsuit. He shrugged and explained, "I was thinking about trying something like that, but Sprout told me about a potion you can make with a plant called gillyweed that lets you breathe water, so I'm probably going to try to brew that."

"You're all sure you can bring items this time?" Dean checked, based on Harry's SCUBA system and Cedric's potion plan.

"We checked, yeah," Harry nodded. "I'm trying to convince them that they should give us all bags of holding to take in case we can snatch more artifacts while we're going."

"There's a thought," Cedric grinned.

"What about you, Viktor?" Harry asked.

The Bulgarian boy grimaced, knowing they weren't going to like his answer, and admitted, "Karkaroff knows of gods called the Akua that may be villing to cut a deal for magic to transform into something that can breathe vater."

Hermione, snapped out of her planning, said, "Viktor! I thought you weren't going to do any more witchcraft!"

"Unless I had to," he corrected. "And I may have to."

While Hermione began to half-berate, half-strategize with Viktor over what he could do rather than using dark magic pacts to mutate into a shark man or something, Harry swam out a bit where Fleur was practicing diving. "So… Hogsmeade next weekend?" he asked, as she surfaced.

"Didn't my fazzer speak to you?" she asked, looking slightly cornered.

"He did," Harry managed a shrug while treading water. "Are you saying you don't want to? Or just that he doesn't want you to?"

"Ze latter is more important zan ze former," she said, sadly.

"I've got an invisibility cloak? We could slip off and nobody would ever know."

"Tempting," she admitted. "But it was one zing when 'e 'ad not said anyzing. Now zat 'e 'as said we cannot date… If 'e did find out, it would be trouble. Especially since 'e and my family are coming for ze second task. So 'e might find out very quickly."

"Fine," Harry grimaced. "I guess do whatever makes your dad happy." It was a little petulant, he had to admit, but he'd genuinely thought that she'd think sneaking around was a good compromise. And he wasn't ready to admit to himself how much he liked dating her.

His shields must have slipped, letting her get an empathic read, or maybe it was just clear from his tone of voice. She said, "I'm sorry, 'arry. It is what it is."

"Right," Harry said, blinking and trying to put his shields back up. "I'm going to go see how Cedric's getting on. Can't be easy to swim in that much fabric."

"Looks like that didn't go too well?" the Hufflepuff asked as Harry swam over to him.

"Daddy issues," Harry explained.

"I can relate," Cedric gave a self-deprecating grin. "I could talk to Susan Bones for you? I heard that she turned you down for the last weekend."

"Thanks, but I don't know that I want someone telling her that she's allowed to date me," Harry demurred. "That's kind of my problem. Girls not making that decision for themselves."

"We're all of us following a script others have given us. Even when we think we've broken free of one, there's another right underneath," Cedric cautioned.

"Maybe. But if you notice you're following a script and you don't like it, don't you at least need to ask yourself whether you can change it?" It was a weird conversation to be having treading water in an ice-cold lake.

"Says the Boy-Who-Lived, who the Norns have contrived to place in mortal danger every year in what should be one of the safest places in the Nine Realms?"

Harry realized he wasn't wrong. "Huh. Maybe. Do the Norns live somewhere? Can I go there and make a complaint?"

"That, I don't know. I think I do know how to swim, at least, if you want to go have fun with your friends."

"Sorry, it was just an excuse to leave a conversation. I know you know how to swim," Harry grinned, but headed over to practice diving with his regulator nearer to Dean.

By the time of the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry still didn't have a date. He hadn't really tried to get one. The study group was planning to try to do a big friend hangout, rather than breaking up to go on individual dates. But then Ron asked whether Viktor would be there, Hermione asked why he wouldn't be invited, Ron couldn't explain why he was mad about it, Lavender realized why Ron might be mad about it, and things got tense. Then Ginny and Parvati revealed they both had gotten dates for the trip. And Seamus still wouldn't tell them who he was slipping off to see.

Consequently, Harry was basically a fifth wheel since Dean, Padma, Luna, and Neville were the two couples that decided to hang out with him, after all.

Hogsmeade was bustling again. The weekend had been scheduled so early because of all the traders that had showed up post-holidays, but they were just some of the renewed visitors to the small town. It seemed that everyone expected the second task to occur very soon. There was honestly some disappointment that it hadn't already happened from the super-fans that had been camped out since after the holidays. Unlike the previous trip, the visitor tents were clustered closer together for warmth, roofs joined with additional tarps to try to keep in the heat and keep off the weather.

As they rode up, they saw Percy Weasley directing new arrivals to set up their tents in a particular block.

"Still no Mr. Crouch?" Harry asked him, as the quintet strolled up.

"He hopes to make it for the actual event," the former head boy explained. "But with all his responsibilities, he cannot just stay here for weeks in case the task occurs suddenly."

"So you get to judge if he can't make it?" Harry asked, and Percy nodded, wondering if he was about to get lobbied. "Good. I felt like Mr. Crouch was a little too generous to me and Cedric, you know? I know you won't be at all biased, and will be very fair to everyone, even though we've been friends for four years."

Harry grinned as he left, since Percy still didn't know whether he was being buttered up or not.

"And there's the Boy-Who-Lived himself!" Bagman's voice boomed out, as the friends entered the inn. He was holding court with a bunch of visitors over on one side. Harry guessed that, unlike Crouch, the former-quidditch-star turned sports-officiator didn't have so many responsibilities at the Ministry that he couldn't wait around for the task to occur. "What do you think, Harry? Are the four of you going to make it competitive this time?"

"I guess it depends on the situation?" Harry responded, all eyes on him. "It would be silly to split up if we're in danger, rather than using teamwork, right?"

Bagman shook his head and explained, "I'm sure the Norns wouldn't set you a test you couldn't pass. It's not meant to be a group exercise."

"If you can tell me where to find them, I have some things I need to tell the Norns anyway about all the stuff that keeps happening to me, so I can ask their opinion about the tournament." The crowd laughed at Harry's rejoinder, and Bagman played along but the humor didn't reach his eyes. Harry wasn't sure the man wanted them to stop working as a team just to make it easier to score.

They were browsing the Spintwitches' quidditch supply stall when he had his next adult run-in. Professor Moody, clomping through the aisles on his prosthetic leg and cane was peering at all the shopkeepers to see what they were up to. They'd learned that his magic eye could see through most illusions and maybe even walls—he hadn't admitted that, but most of the girls in the castle were worried it could see through clothes—and there was no telling what he was looking for. Though, in this case, it seemed to be Harry.

"Potter," the man nodded, mad eye still whirling to watch all around him as the natural one peered his way. "I've seen you all practicing in the lake. Got your plan for the task?"

"At least for the water and cold, sir," Harry agreed. "Not so sure about the opposition."

Moody grimaced and nodded, explaining, "It's a lot to ask children to go up against enemies. Maybe they'll just let you past with a beating. But if they're wielding weapons and an intent to kill, then, well, you need to be ready to kill 'em back."

Padma looked a little scandalized by the permission to end a sentient life, but Luna looked less concerned than Harry had expected. Catching his look, she shrugged, "While I'm sure they're a vibrant and interesting culture, it's not likely that they're innocent. And Vanir and jotuns have been killing one another for thousands of years, so who am I to say it's time to stop?"

"Hah," Moody barked a laugh. "Lovegood will certainly keep you on your toes. But she's right. Maybe they have a right to live a peaceful life, but nobody from Jotunheim's ever been willing to try that. They point a weapon or even a sharp icicle at you, you need to do for them first."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, sir," Harry said. Intellectually, he knew the man was right, but emotionally, he wasn't sure he was ready to straight up kill someone that he could talk to, unless there was absolutely no other choice. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be someone ready to do that.

The rest of the Hogsmeade trip was a study in trying to avoid adults. Fans wanted to meet him. Christine was angling for an interview that he really didn't feel like giving about his relationship with Fleur. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were the giant poles of massive drama as Christine's previous article outed them both as half-jotuns (which, for some reason, Maxime thought that nobody noticed). But at least there were a lot of shops to choose from (and Harry even remembered to get a birthday present to send to his aunt).

And then, after the trip, the waiting began.

Weeks passed with everyone sure that the convergence for the task would begin at any moment. Practicing for it became stressful. Thinking about it became stressful. It was just a giant other shoe waiting an interminable amount of time to drop. January and February (or Winter-Month and Horning) sailed by in a blur of worry that any moment could be the time that aquatic giants could sneak up from the lake and steal their treasures.

It took long enough that they let down their guard.

"Harry. Harry!" Neville was shaking him awake, early on a random Wednesday morning at the end of February or the beginning of Spring-Month. "It's time. McGonagall says. Get your task gear on."

"What'd… what'd they take?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Neville said, "but she sounded worried. Wouldn't look me in the eye."

Harry struggled into his wetsuit, gathering up his stuff. None of his possessions were missing. He rushed through brushing his teeth and trying to comb his hair, and forced himself to put in his hated contact lenses since glasses didn't really work with a SCUBA mask. He handed off his magical pouch to Dean to look after, after grabbing his knife and a few other things he planned to take: he wasn't exactly sure the expanded space would hold up to being underwater.

By the time they got downstairs, most of Gryffindor had gathered. And someone was missing.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry realized, especially with her roommates' worried faces.

"She was visiting Viktor last night," Parvati said. "And she didn't come back to the room."

"I'll kill him!" Ron snarled, without thinking, making Lavender get a sad look in her eyes.

As they exited from the dorm, Padma was waiting for them. She clutched Neville's hand, and explained, "Cho and Luna didn't come back last night! Luna left her bag by the lake and Cho was escorting her to go get it."

"Our prizes," Harry realized, getting angry. "They stole our friends… And the Norns probably bent fate so it would happen." Quietly seething, he led a crowd toward the lake, not sure if he was angrier at the fomor or the weavers of fate themselves.