In years past, January had always passed by in slow-motion for Harry. The doldrums of the post-holiday school routine made the dreary days stretch interminably long, making Harry feel like he was trapped in a recurring loop of cold and darkness. This year however, Harry would like nothing more than for January to never end, as February would bring all kinds of unpleasant issues that he'd rather not face. This of course only made the month fly by, as the prospect of the Second Task and Harry's anxieties about Voldemort's scheming loomed large on the rapidly-approaching horizon.
Meanwhile, the trail of Rita Skeeter's murder ran cold, which was no surprise to Harry. The Daily Prophet was rife with speculation about the possible suspects, and once they realized no viable candidates had emerged, they turned their reporting to criticism of Dumbledore's running of the school. 'How could this happen at Britain's premier wizarding school?' one reporter asked. 'Will no one take responsibility for such ineptitude?' posited another.
Not that Harry could really disagree. Dumbledore was supposed to be the most powerful and insightful wizard of the century, but these incidents seemingly happened right under his nose year after year. Why was it always up to Harry to figure these things out when the Headmaster was supposedly so wise and responsible? It only reaffirmed his decision to keep certain secrets to himself, not trusting the man to do right by his students with that information.
Harry had no real choice but to get better. He spent all of his free time in the library or in the Room of Requirement, learning new magic and sharpening his skills. Much of it was combat-oriented, but he knew he had to broaden his understanding of many different disciplines. He was particularly interested in blood rituals after the success of the Ritual of Ontogenesis – what other rituals could he conduct to better his body and mind?
Such magic was outlawed in Britain, of course, and all the school-approved text on the subject was rather vague and didactic rather than explain how to perform it oneself. Harry considered getting a pass to the Restricted Section to look into more unsavory methods of self-improvement, but didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. Professor Moody would probably give it no questions asked, but Madam Pince was still suspiciously watching him via the school ledger and might alert Dumbledore to such troubling book check-outs by a fourth year.
For now, Harry decided to just focus on the Second Task and worry about the rest later. He'd opted not to use gillyweed this time, finding it a deeply unpleasant experience the first time around. Besides, he was certain Neville would favor the plant himself; he'd spotted the boy reading Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean in the library, which meant the Weasley twins must have successfully tipped him off about his clue.
The way Harry saw it, he had three problems to solve: breathing underwater, regulating his temperature in the freezing water, and seeing through the dark and murky depths. A Bubble-Head Charm was a simple enough back-up plan to breathe, but was susceptible to being popped accidentally. Warming Charms worked for a time, but required focus to maintain with everything else going on. Harry could keep his wand tip lit with Lumos, but that would interfere with any other magic he would need to cast. He wanted to find the simplest and most fool-proof methods he could to ensure his safety and success in the task.
He'd also spent time wondering who his hostage might be in this timeline. Certainly not Ron – he was more likely to be Neville's if anything. Harry didn't have many close friends to speak of – perhaps Luna, though he didn't see her as often as he would like with how busy he was. The only person that made sense was Dahlia – he was highly protective of his sister and would do anything to keep her safe.
Unless she's Neville's hostage? Harry thought. Were he and his sister that close yet in this timeline? He wasn't actually sure – Dahlia acted nonchalant about the boy around her family, but she'd clearly been interested in him for years, and the feeling was now mutual. But if that was the case, who would Harry's be? His mother or father? Or perhaps, if the judges had taken notice of him and Katie at the Yule Ball...surely they wouldn't make that connection…?
"Knut for your thoughts, Harry?"
Harry startled, nearly jumping out of his seat in the library as he was pulled from his train of thought by none other than Katie herself. She stood expectantly beside his table, eyeing the dozen or so textbooks he had propped open before him.
"Oh, hey Katie," he said. "Just...daydreaming."
"What about?" she asked, taking the empty seat beside him.
"Nothing in particular," he muttered, face burning red. He didn't exactly want to admit that his head was now filled with memories of their last dance at the Ball...bodies pressed close together...imagining what could have been if Damian hadn't pulled his little stunt…
"What're you reading?" Katie asked, turning her attention to the books around him. Harry instinctively closed the one closest to him, worried that she'd think ill of him for reading about something as unsavory as blood rituals. Katie picked up a different one, raising her eyebrows at what she read.
"Pocket Charms?" she read. "Pretty advanced stuff for a fourth year. What're you learning that for?"
"Hmm? Oh, just a stupid idea I had," Harry chuckled. He'd learned the term from Flitwick the other day, when the man had seemingly drawn his wand out of thin air. When asked about it, the excitable professor described how he created a small 'pocket' enchantment to store his wand in, which he could then access from a designated entry point to pull it out. The idea intrigued Harry, but he wasn't yet sure if it was plausible to use in the way he envisioned it.
"Something to do with the Second Task?" asked Katie. "Have you figured out what you have to do yet?"
"We have to dive down to the bottom of the lake and retrieve something of value to us," said Harry. "In under an hour."
"Bloody hell, that explains why Viktor Krum keeps diving off his ship in the middle of winter," Katie muttered. "People thought he was just crazy."
Harry turned to face Katie directly. Her hair was back to its usual shoulder-length crop and she was wearing baggy workout clothes from a recent flying session. But she also wore a cheery smile and had Harry feeling totally relaxed in her presence, and he thought she looked just as pretty as she had when she was all dolled up for the Yule Ball.
Is now a good time to bring that up? Harry wondered. Should I tell her what I was thinking as the night was drawing to a close? But he couldn't seem to summon the Gryffindor courage to do so, merely searching her expression for some clue on how to proceed. Katie seemed to take his silence as a cue to change the subject, and the moment passed.
"So...how are you feeling about the next Quidditch match?" she asked. "We're playing against your old team, you know."
"Should be alright," Harry shrugged. "It's all just for fun anyway." Though he wasn't so sure if this would be the case. Roger Davies continued to be one of his most vocal detractors, and his behavior at the Yule Ball indicated that he still had a bone to pick with Harry. Would that translate to an ugly head-to-head match-up during their next game? Harry hoped not, but could never be too sure.
"Well...I can tell you're busy," Katie said decisively after another awkward pause, standing from her seat. "I'll leave you be. See you at practice?"
"Oh...yeah, alright," Harry said, surprised. "See you, Katie."
"See you!" she smiled, and she departed the library. Harry realized too late that she hadn't come over for any particular reason – she just wanted to spend time with him. Was she hoping to talk about what had happened at the end of the night...or rather, what had not happened? Was she after something more? Or did she just want to be better friends after their fun night out together?
Bloody idiot, Harry thought bitterly to himself. For how much older and more mature he was supposed to be, he still felt woefully out of his depth when it came to women and expressing his feelings. Why couldn't he just come out and say what was on his mind? Why was it that he could face down four dozen Death Eaters without fear, but the sight of Katie's questioning expression searching his face made his insides turn over?
Either way, now wasn't the time to ponder such questions. He had to set his feelings aside for now and focus on the other tasks ahead of him. There was another Hogsmeade weekend coming up shortly after the Second Task, and Harry felt compelled to plan out his next excursion to Little Hangleton to continue his research into Tom Riddle's past. Rita Skeeter's murder was a sobering incident, one that reminded him how ruthless Voldemort could be and how proactive he needed to be to prevent him from taking over Britain once more.
The combination of negative thoughts and emotions left Harry in a rather sour mood as he left the library and headed back to Ravenclaw Tower. He crossed through Central Hall, doing his best to ignore the many students milling about, when he heard the last thing he wanted to hear in that moment: the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy, echoing loudly through the space.
"...Just embarrassing, really, that Dumbledore allows such riff-raff to pollute our halls," he was saying. "Makes everyone look bad, having worthless Muggles like him around." The subject of discussion seemed to be Filch, who was meekly polishing a suit of armor with a simple rag and spray bottle. Filch could clearly hear what was being said about him, but was pretending not to hear.
A sizable group of Slytherins laughed at Malfoy's quip, along with a number of older Durmstrang students – ones that Harry supposed must be more sympathetic to such blood purity beliefs. "At least 'e knows 'is place," remarked one Durmstrang boy. "It is not as bad as letting Mudbloods study vith the other students. Karkaroff vould never allow it."
"I'm jealous," Draco groaned loudly; he seemed to be enjoying the large audience, empowering him to speak more freely than usual. "If Father wasn't a school governor, I would have gone to Durmstrang. Seeing the state of things under the Muggle-lover Dumbledore is just sad."
"It is a shame that ve are here to promote school unity," the Durmstrang boy scowled, eyeing a group of fearful younger students scurrying past. "I vould love to show some of these out-of-line Mudbloods their place."
"You shut your mouth."
Everyone turned; Harry had paused in front of the group, glaring at the boy. He recognized him as Marko Pavlovic, the Keeper for Krum's Quidditch squad and presumably for his Durmstrang House back home. Marko sneered at Harry, as did Draco and the other Slytherins.
"Got something to say, Potter?" Draco demanded.
"Not to you," Harry said dismissively to the younger boy. "You can shut your damned mouth though, Pavlovic. That kind of bigotry isn't welcome at Hogwarts."
"Is zat so?" Marko laughed, turning his broad shoulders to face Harry fully. "And who vill stop me?"
Harry drew his wand and pointed it between Marko's eyes. Immediately most of the group responded in kind, with over a dozen wands aimed back at Harry.
"Piss off, Potter," shouted Crabbe from the back of the group. "Know your place."
"You think you lot scare me?" Harry grinned. "There were more wands aimed at me when I kicked your fathers' asses at the World Cup. Ask Draco how that went for them."
A few of the Durmstrang boys looked surprised by this revelation, looking to Draco for confirmation. Draco's face scrunched up with rage, and he stepped forward to the front of the pack. "Diffindo!" he bellowed, sending the Cutting Curse directly at Harry.
He could have simply side-stepped the spell or blocked it with a Shield Charm. Instead, Harry batted the spell to his right – directly at Marko, who was unable to avoid the spell and took it straight to the leg, yelping in pain as blood spurted from his thigh.
The other Durmstrang boys stepped forward, faces contorted with rage. "You vill pay for that, Potter," one snarled, wand raised menacingly at Harry.
"Enough!"
A powerful Shield Charm erupted in between Harry and the larger group, and everyone spun around to see who had cast it. Severus Snape strode across the hall, looking furious.
"Potter attacked a Durmstrang student, Professor!" Draco shouted at once, pointing an accusing finger at Harry. "He should be expelled for that!"
"Quiet, you idiot boy; I saw the whole thing," Snape snapped, causing the blonde boy to pale at once. "Five points from Slytherin for stooping to crude violence."
"But he—" Draco stammered.
"Disperse, all of you!" Snape growled, addressing the entire group. The Slytherins and Durmstrang students glared from Harry to Snape for a moment, before stowing their wands away and slinking away. "And you...come with me."
Harry met Snape's glare with one of his own. The man had technically spared him from a messy fight that was sure to land more than one student in the Hospital Wing, so he had no reason to be cross with him, but it was a matter of principle. Harry stowed his wand away and swept after him, ignoring the many wide-eyed bystanders watching him go.
Snape led the way to his office in the dungeons, wordlessly beckoning Harry inside before slamming the door behind them. "What on earth were you thinking, Potter?" he demanded. "Taking on that many students twice your size?"
"I wasn't afraid of them," Harry said defiantly.
"I don't care what you're afraid of," Snape spat. "You didn't stop to think how it would look? A Hogwarts Champion, instigating a fight with students from another school in broad daylight?"
"They were talking about purging Mudbloods from Hogwarts," said Harry. "I wasn't going to take that lying down. But I suppose that's something you would have discussed in your own school days, isn't that right, Professor?"
"Detention for a week, Potter!" Snape said angrily. "My own teenage follies do not excuse your own. Control yourself, and stop making enemies with everyone you cross paths with."
"And why should I take advice on making enemies from you?" Harry glared. "Considering the allies you used to keep—"
"That's another week of detention!" Snape roared. "Keep it up, and I'll revoke your Quidditch privileges for the year. Now get out of my sight, and stay away from Malfoy."
"Sir," Harry said through gritted teeth, turning to go. His relationship with Snape was nowhere near as contentious as in his last timeline, and the man clearly had some kind of agreement with Lily to watch over her children in the castle. But it was hard not to loathe the man for his blatant favoritism and dark past, no matter the path he may have chosen now. He wondered how James would have reacted if he heard Snape talking that way in their school days, and felt that his own actions probably paled in comparison.
Snape did have a point, however: creating rapport with the foreign students would only become more difficult once word of incidents like this one spread. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons visitors already hated him for his suspected cheating to enter the Tournament, and now they would hear that he'd caused harm to one of their own without the context behind it. So much for international diplomacy…
Thankfully, there was no retribution from the Durmstrang clan in the coming weeks, though Harry was careful not to stray too far in the castle alone. The foreign delegation mostly steered clear of him anyway, still not trusting him after all that had taken place this year. Perhaps Harry's display of strength at the First Task also deterred reprisals, proving to the other students that he was not a fourth-year to be underestimated in combat.
The clan mentality only intensified as the week of the Second Task arrived, with students flocking around their own Champions and preparing pins and banners to support them publicly. Predictably, Malfoy began distributing 'POTTER STINKS!' badges once more, and Neville was seemingly embraced by his Slytherin classmates, if only because he was the alternative to Harry. Now that's a sight you don't see everyday, Harry remarked to himself as he saw Crabbe and Goyle acting as bodyguards for the Boy Who Lived between classes...what would their fathers think if they saw this?
Harry found it simple enough to keep his head down and remain focused on the task ahead as Saturday morning rapidly approached. He had solidified his plans for the lake and even tested it with a few late-night practice swims, feeling confident that he could finish his task successfully. Now it was once again a matter of ensuring Neville also emerged unscathed. He would never admit it to the boy of course, but Harry was prepared to personally escort him all the way to the merfolk village and back if it meant disrupting any foul play on Voldemort's part.
He awoke earlier than planned on the morning of the Second Task, feeling jittery but nonetheless prepared. He headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, alarmed to see that it was already full of students, equally eager for the day's events to begin. Harry spotted a familiar face at the Ravenclaw table and made his way over to sit beside her.
"Morning, Luna," he greeted the blonde.
"Morning, Harry," she said matter-of-factly. "Sleep well?"
"More or less," Harry grumbled. "Just a bit nervous about the task, is all."
"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Luna shrugged. "The tea-leaves indicate calm waters and minimal storms today."
"That's...good, I guess," said Harry. What did 'minimal' storms mean? There wasn't a cloud in the sky outside, but Harry knew that Luna must be referring to the metaphorical climate here. She'd made a similarly gloomy forecast the night of Pettigrew's incursion into the castle last year, after all. "How has Divination been treating you so far, Luna?"
"It's alright," Luna sighed discontentedly. "It's an interesting subject, but I don't like Professor Trelawney much. All she does is fret about impending disasters and predict death and suffering."
"That sounds about right," Harry chuckled humorlessly. He'd gotten used to Trelawney's hijinks by now, though he supposed someone experiencing her for the first time might be a bit perturbed. Though come to think of it, she had been especially doom and gloom over the past year, forecasting death around every corner ever since the term began. Harry had a brief image of Cedric Diggory lying dead in the grass of the graveyard, and shook his head to clear it. That's not happening on my watch, he reminded himself firmly.
Luna accompanied Harry down to the lake as the student body began to migrate there for the task. It occurred to him now that Luna must not be his hostage, which left only one viable candidate in his mind. The thought send icy chills down his spine. She'll be fine, he reminded himself. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen to any of the hostages.
Harry was pointed in the direction of the northern shore while the rest of the students headed for the bleachers to the east. Fleur, Krum and Neville were already present, dressed in various swim apparel and doing their best to stay warm and limber for the event to start. Perhaps it was nerves or the frigid cold or both, but none of them spoke, all lost in their own mental preparations. Harry was happy to follow suit.
Soon after, Ludo Bagman walked up to the four champions, flanked by the other three judges. "Welcome to the Second Task, Champions!" he greeted them, beaming widely. "Your mission, as you have no doubt surmised from your clue, is to retrieve your most treasured possession from the bottom of the lake within one hour."
"And vot is our 'most treasured possession'?" Krum asked.
"It is the thing – or person – that you care about the most," Bagman explained, causing the other three champions to grimace. "Time is of the essence, so I suggest you not dilly-dally. Now, before we begin, the judges need to inspect any objects you plan to take with you into the lake, besides a wand."
Krum and Fleur had nothing for the judges to inspect, so they moved on to Neville. He procured a small lump of slimy plant material that Harry recognized all too easily. "Ahh, gillyweed!" Bagman chuckled knowingly. "I should have realized, considering that you are such a fair hand at Herbology, Mr. Longbottom...a wise choice!"
Bagman turned next to Harry, who handed over the blue-and-bronze cotton scarf his mother had gifted him for Christmas. "I see no objection to this," Bagman muttered, turning the fabric over in his palm. "But—oh, what's this I detect?" He waved his wand over the scarf, frowning at whatever feedback he received back.
"Let me see zat," Karkaroff muttered, snatching the garment out of Bagman's hands and performing his own wand diagnostics. "But surely zis is an illegal device, Bagman! He has hidden an enchantment within ze fabric!"
"Indeed he has," Dumbledore smiled, taking the scarf for himself. "A rather ingenious display of magic here: Mr. Potter appears to have created a Pocket Charm on one side of the scarf, allowing him to breathe in the oxygen stored within."
That was indeed what Harry had done: he'd gotten the idea from snorkels, the device Muggles used to breathe underwater. But rather than a tube sticking out above the surface at all time to draw in oxygen, Harry had filled a large pocket with pure oxygen and positioned the entrance within the scarf so he could suck in air from within. So long as he didn't lose the scarf, he would have hours of breathable air.
"There is indeed nothing illegal about this device," Bagman confirmed, handing it back to Harry. "Unless we want to ban all Muggle aides, like Miss Delacour's choice of footwear?"
Fleur was indeed wearing shoes with tiny fins at the ends, much like flippers. Madam Maxime looked anxious at this suggestion, so she shot a nasty look at Karkaroff until he backed down.
"Very good, Champions!" Bagman said, clapping his hands. "Take your places at the shore and wait for my signal. Remember, you have one hour!"
The four Champions took their marks, stretching and silently preparing themselves for the task. Harry looked to Neville at the far end of the row, trying to catch his eye and send him silent reassurances. But Neville was in his own world, muttering to himself, clutching the gillyweed tight in his shaking palm. No matter, Harry thought. He'll be fine. I'll be keeping an eye on him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," roared Bagman from his spot at the bleachers, "welcome to the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament! The four Champions will have one hour to retrieve their prize from the bottom of the lake and return to shore. Are the Champions ready?"
All four sent various signals of readiness to Bagman, dropping into running stances.
"Then let the task begin!" shouted Bagman, and a loud cannon blast signaled the start of the event. At once all four Champions began their preparations; Krum began muttering complex incantations to partially transfigure himself into a shark, while Fleur erected a Bubble-Head Charm to cover her mouth and nose. Neville began chewing and painfully swallowing his gillyweed, as Harry merely tied the scarf around the lower half of his face and used a Sticking Charm to keep it firmly over his nose and mouth.
Harry and Fleur were the first to wade out into deeper waters. Harry dipped his head underneath the surface and took a few practice gulps to ensure his makeshift breathing device was working properly. Then he fired an orb of light into the dark waters ahead of him, centering it in his vision and concentrating on keeping it ten feet above and ahead of him at all times. Then he thrust his wand forward and thought, Accelerare!
At once he shot like a bullet through the water, his wand pulling him along as though attached to a tractor beam. He left Fleur and the others miles behind as he plunged down into the depths of the lake, quickly acclimating to the cold, ears popping from the shifting pressure as he descended further and further into the murky depths.
He could easily retrieve his prize and return to the surface within minutes at this rate. But his aim was not to win. He had to make sure Neville made it through the Task alive, unsure what hidden dangers may lie in store for him. The fake Moody had helped Harry through the Tournament in the last timeline, but what if Voldemort's aims had changed this time around? What if he'd entered both Harry and Neville into the Tournament to ensure their "accidental" deaths? Harry couldn't take that risk.
Harry paused his descent about halfway down the lake, waiting, listening. It was eerily quiet down here; the silence pressed upon him like a heavy weight, almost as oppressive as the darkness his dim light was struggling to penetrate. He mentally moved the light all around himself, checking to ensure he was not about to be ambushed by any unwanted predators.
Where is everyone? Harry thought impatiently to himself. A silent Tempus charm told him that nearly ten minutes had passed, and the merfolk lair was not far from where he was treading water. He was briefly torn: should he remain here and wait for all three to pass him by en route to the lake bed, or be more proactive and seek out potential trouble? Indecisiveness paralyzed him as he decided which was the best course of action.
His mind was made up for him when he heard muffled sounds of struggle somewhere to his right. Harry pointed his wand and shot off like a rocket towards the sound, projecting his orb of light ahead of him at all times.
He was met with a grisly scene: Fleur Delacour was struggling with a horde of grindylows, grabbing at her ankles and trying to climb up her torso to attack her. Harry wasted no time, firing silent Stunners at the tiny creatures and sending them spiraling back down to the depths. Fleur was briefly startled by Harry's appearance, aiming her wand wildly at him, but realized what he was doing and turned her attention back to the creatures below her.
But her distraction cost her: a stray grindylow leapt up and bit her hand, causing her to flinch and drop her wand, which drifted slowly down into the darkness. Another lunged at her face, popping her Bubble-Head Charm and leaving her unable to breathe. Fleur started to panic, thrashing wildly as the grindylows started to gain the upper hand, greedily dragging her down to the depths as more arrived to claim their prey…
Harry knew there were too many to take on with individual spells. He closed his eyes and summoned as much power as he could before silently casting, Stupefy Maxima! A wave of red light pulsed from his wand, Stunning everything it came in contact with. Dozens of unconscious grindylows floated harmlessly away, falling off of Fleur as her head lolled forward and her limbs went limp.
Harry knew he had no time to spare: within seconds, Fleur's unconscious breathing reflex would kick in and cause her to drown. He grabbed her waist and pointed his wand upwards, thinking, Ascendare! He was propelled upwards towards the surface with great force, clutching Fleur's limp form tightly. He had no free hand to pinch her nose and prevent her from inhaling...he could only pray that he got her out in time…
Then they broke the surface, launching several feet in the air before crashing back down to the water below. Harry steadied Fleur face-up on the surface and placed his wand to her chest, muttering, "Enervate."
Fleur's eyes flew open, and she instinctively started to flail about again, coughing up a lungful of water and swearing loudly in French. After a moment she recomposed herself, taking shallow breaths and clutching onto Harry for dear life, whom she was staring at with wide eyes.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked, his voice slightly muffled by the scarf still covering his nose and mouth.
"Why did you 'elp me?" Fleur demanded. "Why not leave me to fend for myself?"
"I'm not trying to win," Harry shrugged. "Can you float on your own?"
Fleur took a second to register this question in her shocked state. Eventually she nodded, and Harry released her, sending red sparks into the air to signal that she needed rescue. Then, with an apologetic look at Fleur, Harry dove beneath the surface, accelerating back down into the depths.
Harry did not stop this time, heading straight for the very bottom of the lake. Within minutes of departing the surface, he arrived at the merfolk village, its natural light removing the need for his own floating orb. He spotted the four hostages affixed to ropes at one end of the village and rushed over towards it.
Three of the hostages he recognized straight away, the same as they were in his previous timeline. Fleur's sister Gabrielle dangled just in front of him, looking peaceful and serene, flanked on either side by Ron and Hermione – Neville and Krum's hostages. But the fourth made Harry's blood run cold: his sister Dahlia, looking every bit like the ghostly-white corpse he'd seen when he encountered the boggart the previous year. He fought the desperate reflex to grab her and rush to the surface immediately.
She's perfectly safe, Harry had to remind himself. Dumbledore wouldn't let any of them come to harm. He had to stay focused on his mission: making sure Neville made it out of the lake intact. And hey, if Krum needed assistance himself, Harry would give it to him. As far as he was concerned, none of them were rivals – they were all in this together.
Motion to Harry's right caught his eye, and he realized why he had not encountered any merfolk yet: Neville was engaged in a silent argument with what appeared to be the chieftain of the village, dozens of spears pointed at him. Neville was gesturing wildly towards Dahlia, as though entreating them to let him take her as well. But the merfolk were shaking their head no, pointing towards Ron, clearly indicating that he was the hostage he was responsible for.
Harry rushed over to the group, causing brief alarm from the merfolk until he held up his hands in peace. He gestured to get Neville's attention, pointing from himself to Dahlia. I've got her, he tried to communicate silently with only his eyes. Neville frowned at him for a moment before nodding in understanding.
At that moment they were interrupted by the arrival of a third party: Krum, his upper half transfigured into a shark. The merfolk scattered as Krum headed straight for Hermione, biting her rope and grabbing her unconscious form before heading for the surface. Harry watched him go before turning back to Neville, giving him a reassuring nod. Let's get out of here.
Neville and Harry made their way over to their respective hostages. Harry severed Dahlia's rope with a Cutting Curse, and took the time to free her legs so that she could use them once they reached the surface. He grabbed her arm with his free hand and prepared to leave, turning to check one last time on Neville. He was struggling to untie Ron's bindings by hand, searching the lake bed for a rock sharp enough to cut the rope.
Harry groaned internally and fired another Cutting Curse, cleanly severing Ron's rope from the rock beneath it. Neville looked up, startled, as he realized what Harry had done. Harry merely gave him a sheepish shrug; Neville returned it, grabbing Ron and beginning to ascend towards the surface.
He'll make it, Harry told himself. The hard part was over. Now it was just a matter of getting himself and Dahlia out – and Gabrielle, whom he now knew to be perfectly safe but would still go a long way towards earning Fleur's gratitude.
With an apologetic glance back at the merfolk, he fired a third Cutting Curse at Gabrielle's bindings. The merfolk raised their weapons in protest, but Harry had already looped his wand arm through Gabrielle's and aimed it up at the surface. Soon the three of them were rocketing towards the surface, leaving the merfolk far behind in the darkness.
After about a minute they surfaced, arriving in the center of the lake. Dahlia and Gabrielle spluttered awake, disoriented, thrashing about in the water as Fleur had. "Relax," Harry reassured the girls as he removed his scarf from his face. "You're safe. Just breathe."
"Took you long enough, idiot," Dahlia quipped sarcastically, though she clutched onto his arm tightly for support. "Who's Blondie?"
"This is Gabrielle," Harry said. Gabrielle was blinking rapidly in the harsh sunlight, staring at Harry with wide eyes.
"Qui es tu?" Gabrielle demanded in rapid French. "Tu n'es pas ma soeur, où est elle?"
"C'est mon frère," Dahlia said reassuringly to the younger girl. "Il nous sauvera."
"Since when do you speak French?" Harry asked his sister as they began paddling towards shore.
"I'm learning," Dahlia shrugged. "France has some excellent Healing academies that I might apply to someday."
Harry was certainly grateful for it in the moment, as Dahlia's soothing words helped to keep Gabrielle calm as they traversed the lake surface. Ahead of him, Harry could see Neville and Ron swimming for shore, where Krum and Hermione had already arrived, the latter wrapped in a blanket as Madam Pomfrey attended to her.
Neville and Harry reached the shore around the same time, their respective hostages (plus one) in tow. Madam Pomfrey rushed forward to check on them all; aside from a small scrape to Neville's leg, they were all unharmed. "I mean really, allowing so many underage children to fend for themselves!" she huffed indignantly, casting Warming Charms on the youngest girls as they shivered in their towels. "Madness, utter madness this Tournament is…"
She's not wrong, Harry thought grimly. Then the next moment he was nearly knocked to the ground by someone moving very fast; Fleur rushed past him to scoop young Gabrielle in her arms, speaking to her in urgent French. Harry could not understand what they were saying, but gathered that Gabrielle was reassuring her sister that she was alright, gesturing to Harry with a shy smile.
Fleur set Gabrielle down and turned to Harry. "You saved me and my sister," she said breathlessly, moving forward to wrap Harry in a grateful hug. "My family is forever indebted to you."
"Don't mention it," Harry mumbled, cheeks burning with embarrassment, which only got worse when Fleur planted multiple kisses on both sides of his face. Dahlia snickered silently at his 'misfortune' as the other Champions and their hostages looked on, bemused and no doubt slightly envious.
Fortunately he was spared being the center of attention by the booming voice of Ludo Bagman overhead. "The four Champions have all returned!" Bagman said excitedly. "Miss Delacour of Beauxbatons failed to complete her task, finishing in fourth place." A smattering of polite applause ensued, but Fleur seemed unconcerned, walking up the path to the stands with Gabrielle's hand firmly in her own.
"Viktor Krum was the first to surface with his hostage safely in tow," Bagman continued. "He is awarded full points and first place in the task!" A roar of approval rose from the Durmstrang faithful as Krum nodded politely to his admirers, though his focus remained on Hermione, ensuring that she was alright.
"Neville Longbottom of Hogwarts surfaced second with his hostage, followed shortly by Harry Potter, also of Hogwarts," Bagman continued. "However, after conferring with the merfolk, we have determined that Mr. Potter acted valorously to free multiple hostages and assist another Champion with his own. That, in addition to his efforts to rescue Miss Delacour from grindylows, has prompted the judges to award him second place!"
A small cheer rose for Harry from the stands, which he noted was led mostly by the Gryffindor contingent and a portion of Hufflepuff House, spearheaded by Damian and Cedric. He noted that some of his own house mates joined in as well, giving him hope that perhaps he would not be the pariah of Ravenclaw House for much longer.
"Harry! Dahlia!" a voice called out; Harry saw Lily and James rushing down the path towards him. The former arrived first, rushing to check on her daughter. "Thank Merlin. Dumbledore said nothing bad would happen to you, but you never know—"
"I'm fine, Mum," Dahlia said, squirming out of her mother's smothering grasp. "Dumbledore explained the Stasis Charm to me in great detail before applying it; nothing could have gone wrong."
"Well done, Harry," James appraised his son, wrapping him in a relieved hug. "I knew you could do it, but it was torture, not being able to see you down there…"
"And the poor Delacour girl!" Lily sighed. "She looked terrified when the judges pulled her out of the water...that was very brave of you to help her."
Harry shrugged indifferently. "I'm not trying to win the Tournament," he said once again. "Just trying to get everyone through it in one piece."
"Noble git," Dahlia said, rolling her eyes. "Be right back." And she turned to approach Ron and Neville, the latter immediately turning to ensure she was alright. Harry felt an odd sensation in his stomach at the sight of Neville pulling his sister in for a tight hug, but ultimately decided it was alright. He was a good person, and Dahlia could fend for herself.
Harry began walking up the path to rejoin the student section, flanked on either side by his parents. He spotted Katie Bell standing anxiously off to one side, waiting for him. "We'll give you a moment," Lily said tactfully, grabbing her husband's arm and steering him away to give their son privacy.
"Hi," said Harry awkwardly as he approached Katie.
"Hi," she said back, smiling nervously at him. "Did it go alright?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded, stopping in front of her. "Better than expected, honestly."
"Congrats on second place," Katie said, her hands fidgeting with her overcoat; she looked unsure if it was appropriate to embrace him. "We were all rooting for you."
"Thanks," Harry smiled. Then, feeling emboldened, he took her hands in his and pulled her close, placing his lips gently to hers in a small kiss. Her eyes went wide with surprise at the gesture as they pulled apart, then her face burned bright red and she giggled in a very un-Katie-like manner.
"I was hoping you would do that at the Ball," she admitted with a sheepish smile.
"Me too," Harry grinned. "Shame that we got interrupted."
They stood there giddily for a moment, fingers interlocked, just smiling at each other. Harry spotted the Weasley twins plus Angelina and Alicia spying on them from afar, looking positively delighted.
"So there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up," Harry said after a moment. "Care to join me for a proper date?"
"I'd like that," Katie beamed. She stood on tip-toes and gave Harry another gentle kiss, then grinned and turned to head back to her friends. Harry watched her skip away, his heart feeling lighter and more overjoyed than it had in quite some time. At that moment, he felt as though he could conjure the world's brightest Patronus with the memory of the last few minutes.
It was only later that afternoon that Harry remembered his plan to travel to Little Hangleton during the next Hogsmeade Weekend. Bugger, he thought irritably when he realized he'd double-booked himself. But surely he could make both work, right? Countering Voldemort's schemes was important, but so too was pursuing his own personal life and living the childhood he never got to the first time.
Surely he could do both things at the same time, right? He'd managed so far...how hard could it be?