You know what? Although the other students were having a bit of trouble accepting the truth, the three girls were actually quite satisfied with the outcome.
If it had been Ron… strangely enough, it felt balanced.
Hermione stood nearby, hardly daring to breathe. For some reason, she suddenly thought of Jim Huck.
There was something about Ron and Huck, wasn't there? They felt… similar?
"Potter?"
Professor McGonagall's voice rang out. None of them had noticed her enter the Great Hall.
"Professor McGonagall." Harry stood up.
"It's nearly time," she said gravely. "I trust you're fully prepared. Off you go—the champions from the other two schools have already left and will soon reach the task site… Mr Bagman has just announced the details of the second task. Good luck."
"Yes, Professor." Harry nodded.
He rose and walked out with the three girls.
The students in the Great Hall began leaving in twos and threes, following Professor McGonagall toward the Black Lake.
It was a rare, beautifully sunny morning for February, yet the air still carried a biting chill. Even the warm currents of the North Atlantic couldn't fully ward off the early-morning frost.
As Harry walked down across the lawn, he spotted the tiered stands that had surrounded the dragons last November—now rearranged along the opposite shore of the lake, their reflections shimmering on the water below.
The students filed into the stands and took their seats. Professor McGonagall led Harry to the champions' tent.
Inside, Viktor Krum was hunched in thought, while Fleur kept sipping nervously from a steaming mug, her face pale and anxious.
"Cold weather, isn't it?" Viktor said as Harry entered.
"Very," Harry agreed. "It is February, after all—we can't exactly expect July temperatures, can we?"
The little joke earned a faint smile from Viktor.
"A task to rescue people from the bottom of the lake…" Viktor muttered. "I really don't understand why they designed it this way… and with only one hour. I'm worried that if we go over time, the hostages might actually be harmed."
"Don't worry," Harry said with a wry grin. "We're not Russian. At least the hostages don't have to fear we're the real threat."
Viktor looked up, utterly baffled.
At Harry's words, Fleur suddenly let out a loud, heartbroken sob.
"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked Viktor quietly.
Viktor sighed and shook his head. "I don't know why they chose little Gabrielle Delacour—Miss Delacour's sister—as a hostage. She's only a child…"
"Oh… Gabrielle…" Fleur whimpered.
"It'll be fine," Harry said helplessly. "Professor Dumbledore will have made certain they're safe. We just have to trust ourselves and be quick enough…"
Fleur buried her face in her hands, looking on the verge of collapse. It was clear how much she loved her little sister.
At that moment, Veratia walked into the tent.
"Lady Grindelwald!" Viktor instantly straightened to attention.
He could hardly do otherwise—Bulgaria and Greater Germany had always been close allies, and there were persistent rumors that Bulgaria hoped to join the Greater German Ministry of Magic. That meant the "county-level official" sitting before him might one day be his direct superior.
"Hm." Veratia gave a small nod and took the seat beside Harry.
"How are you feeling?" she asked with a smile. "All prepared? Or… are you a little worried about your good friend?"
She placed deliberate emphasis on "good friend."
The previous evening, when she'd heard that Professor McGonagall had taken Hermione and Ron aside privately, Veratia had immediately guessed what was happening. Hermione couldn't possibly be Harry's hostage, so there was only one logical conclusion: Ron had been chosen as the person Harry would "sorely miss."
Logically, it made sense—friendship was, after all, one of the most precious things in the world.
Still…
Understanding was one thing; accepting it was another. Veratia felt a sudden urge to march up to Ron and ask, "Do you really think Potter would mourn you?"
"I'm fine," Harry said with a shrug. "I'm not worried about Ron—he'll be perfectly safe. And you know how things are with me and the Black Lake. We're old acquaintances by now."
"Are we?" Veratia asked, eyes twinkling.
"Of course," Harry said earnestly. "Remember our very first adventure after you arrived at Hogwarts? Dealing with the merpeople in the Black Lake."
"Oh, right," Veratia said, nodding. "And those spiders from the forest were terribly rude, barging in on our date."
Harry remembered it vividly. Once he and Veratia had grown close, their first real outing alone had been by the Black Lake. She had brought fireworks, introduced him to the merpeople, and after a frank (and slightly threatening) discussion, turned enemies into friends.
Of course, they'd also had to deal with a swarm of rampaging spiders from the Forbidden Forest who had very poor timing.
Fireworks…
That was why Cassandra had looked so furious that day.
Yes—his very first time by the lake with Cassandra, they had set off fireworks too.
Now Veratia had taken him to do the same thing. No wonder Cassandra had been livid.
What Harry didn't know was that Veratia had privately sought out Cassandra beforehand and informed her, in no uncertain terms: "I've set my sights on Potter. We're going to date. Consider this official notice."
The regal triple combo had left Cassandra stunned.
But pride wouldn't let her back down. She had merely scoffed, "If you want Potter, he's yours. He's nothing more than an expendable little lackey to me."
That same night, Cassandra had cried herself to sleep and soaked her pillow through.
Harry had only learned all this later, from Cassandra's memories—back when they were practicing Legilimency on each other.
In the corner, Viktor and Fleur were doing their very best to become invisible, desperately trying not to listen to the romantic saga unfolding between Hogwarts' champion and the Deputy Minister of the Greater German Ministry of Magic (concurrently Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation).
"Are you all right?" Veratia asked, noticing Harry had gone quiet.
"Nothing, I just remembered why Cassandra was so angry that day," he said with a small laugh. "But that's all in the past. Cassandra wouldn't…"
At that moment, Rita Skeeter swept into the tent, camera in hand.
Her eyes lit up the instant she spotted the beautiful girl beside Harry—only to lose all color when she recognized the face.
No…
Lady Grindelwald…
She quickly rallied.
A journalist had professional ethics, after all.
(Yes, the same journalist who chased scandals, wrote gossip columns, and twisted facts. That was simply part of the job description.)
"Mr Potter." Rita Skeeter sat down opposite him and greeted Veratia. "Good day, most esteemed Lady Grindelwald. A pleasure to see you here."
"Miss Skeeter," Veratia returned with a graceful nod, then smiled sweetly. "I assume you're here for an exclusive interview? In that case… would you care to interview Harry and me together?"
Rita Skeeter had not expected Veratia to hand her—on a silver platter—an interview with both of them.
This was beyond explosive; it would eclipse the entire Triwizard Tournament in news value.
Just imagine the headlines: The Boy Who Lived, Savior of the British Wizarding World, and His Romance with Lady Grindelwald…
Every cell in Rita Skeeter's body was practically vibrating with glee.
"Shall we begin right now?" she asked, eyes shining.
"Oh, there's no rush," Veratia said pleasantly. "We have plenty of time. For now, please conduct your interviews with the three champions. We can schedule ours separately later—what do you think, Miss Skeeter?"
"Of course, of course!" Rita exclaimed happily. "Whatever you wish, Lady Grindelwald."
Fleur stared, red-rimmed eyes wide as saucers, utterly bewildered that the notoriously difficult and abrasive Rita Skeeter was behaving like an obedient puppy in front of Veratia Grindelwald.
Viktor, on the other hand, showed no surprise whatsoever. Anyone bearing the name Grindelwald was hardly ever ordinary.
Rita quickly slipped into professional mode. Perhaps because Veratia was present, she was on her very best behavior—no prying, no embellishing, no malicious spin. It left both Viktor and Fleur slightly unsettled.
In Rita-speak, the pair were "the Bulgarian bonfire" and "the French veela vixen." When it came to venomous tongues, she could give Snape a run for his money—only her style was… indescribably unique.
After finishing with Viktor and Fleur, she turned to Harry.
"Mr Potter, as the only champion under seventeen, what are your thoughts on competing in the Triwizard Tournament?"
"I am deeply honored to take part," Harry answered smoothly. "Hogwarts has organized this rare and magnificent event with the principles of fairness, justice, and openness. To participate as a fourth-year student is something I consider a great source of pride."
"Excellent," Rita continued. "I understand that during the first task, Durmstrang's Professor Karkaroff appeared less than impartial in his scoring. How do you feel about the marks he gave you?"
"I've never expected to be a Galleon that everyone likes," Harry said with a shrug. "People have preferences. Perhaps my style simply isn't to Professor Karkaroff's taste. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Hmm." Rita nodded and pressed on. "Is there anything you'd like to say to Professor Karkaroff?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Then… I wish him good health."
After the interviews, Rita cast Veratia one last wistful glance, bid the champions farewell, and left the tent.
"She was nervous, wasn't she?" Harry said with a shrug.
Veratia covered her mouth and laughed softly.
Just then, Ludo Bagman strode in.
"Good day, esteemed Lady Grindelwald," he greeted first.
Once Veratia acknowledged him with a nod, Bagman turned to the champions. "The task is about to begin! Champions—get ready. Unlike the first task, you won't go one by one… er, I mean, you'll all start together. Understood?"
The three champions nodded.
"Right then, off we go!"
They followed Bagman out of the tent to the edge of the Black Lake, where a temporary wooden diving platform had been erected. It stood barely five feet above the water.
After positioning the champions, Bagman cast a Sonorus charm on himself.
"Attention, everyone! Our champions are in position! On my whistle, the second task begins! They have exactly one hour to retrieve what was taken from them… On the count of three… Three!"
A shrill whistle pierced the cold, still air. The stands erupted in cheers and applause.
Harry paid no attention to the other champions. Calmly, he drew his wand and pointed it at the Black Lake.
A sphere of violet light shot from the tip of his wand and plunged into the water.
BOOM!
An explosion of water rocketed dozens of meters into the sky, as though the entire lake had been hurled upward.
"WOOOAAAHHH—"
Gasps and shouts of astonishment echoed around the arena.
No one had expected Harry—not only to refuse to dive in, but to open with such a spectacular, explosive spell.
--
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