The clamor of the ball still echoed in their ears, but the shadow of the second task had already descended.
When Dumbledore announced that the champions had to rescue their 'most cherished treasures' from the bottom of the Black Lake within an hour, a roar of excitement and confusion erupted in the Great Hall.
An ominous premonition hung over everyone.
And when the hostages were revealed—Ron for Harry, Fleur's sister Gabrielle for Fleur, and a Durmstrang girl for Krum—the suspicions were confirmed.
The February wind whipped against their faces, carrying a bone-chilling cold.
High stands had already been erected by the Black Lake, and students wore thick cloaks and scarves, their white breath scattering in the air.
Lia pulled at the thick scarf Hermione had tied for her, burying half her face in it.
The air was a mix of too many scents: damp moisture, the fishy smell of mud...
...and the emotional scents of thousands of students—excitement, tension, and fear intertwined—making her wrinkle her nose in discomfort.
She still forced herself to capture that faint, elusive clue from this chaotic'sea of scents.'
That aura of death had truly changed.
It was no longer a thin thread, faintly tethered to Harry.
It had become a net, a giant web covering the entire competition grounds, enveloping everyone.
'It wants to drag everyone down,' Lia murmured to herself.
Beside her, Hermione failed to notice these subtle sensations, her gaze fixed on the grand event below.
Harry stood there, looking particularly small and thin.
'What method will he use?' Hermione wondered, a bit puzzled. 'The Bubble-Head Charm? He hasn't practiced it enough.'
'Merlin's sake, he wouldn't just try to hold his breath and dive down, would he?'
The horn for the start of the race sounded.
Cedric and Krum immediately jumped into the water, with Fleur following close behind.
Only Harry was still hesitating on the shore.
A murmur of discussion rose from the stands.
Just as Hermione was almost unable to stop herself from rushing down, Harry suddenly pulled a slimy, grayish-green clump out of his pocket that looked like a soggy dead rat's tail.
He stuffed it into his mouth.
Lia could smell it from a distance.
The scent of magical herbs, with a strong oceanic fishiness and the bitterness of plant roots.
It was strange, but full of startling vitality.
'gillyweed,' Lia said softly.
'What?' Hermione didn't hear clearly.
'He used gillyweed,' Lia repeated, her sense of smell telling her that the item's magic was taking effect inside Harry's body. 'A very risky method, but it works.'
As soon as she finished speaking, Harry clutched his neck and fell to the ground, twitching violently.
But soon, several slits opened on both sides of Harry's neck—gills. Webbing also grew between his hands and feet.
He leaped up and plunged into the icy lake water.
The long wait began.
Time ticked away, and the lake's surface remained calm and without ripples.
Hermione did not waste this precious time.
Under the cover of her wide robes, her hand quietly slid down.
Her fingertips quickly found that fluffy long tail emitting a familiar warmth.
Lia thought Hermione just wanted to keep warm.
She obediently moved closer to her, submissively delivering the soft tail into her hands.
Little did she know that walking into the trap herself made things easier for Hermione.
'Wu...!'
A suppressed whimper leaked out from under Lia's scarf.
Lia's eyes widened in shock as she looked at Hermione, only to see Hermione wearing a playful, mischievous smirk.
Lia protested in a low voice, 'Hermione... didn't you say... outside...'
'Eee—!'
Before she could finish, she was interrupted by Hermione's movements.
A fingernail traced very lightly and slowly all the way down from the base of the tail.
Hermione acted just like the others in the stands, leaning together in small groups for warmth.
Pressing close to Lia, she leaned into Lia's slightly burning cat ears.
'Shh... you wouldn't want others to see you like this, would you?'
Lia's legs went weak, and she could barely stand, her body instinctively leaning against Hermione for support.
The mist in her eyes only fueled Hermione's desire to tease her further.
She had no choice but to hide her burning cheeks in her scarf, allowing Hermione's mischievous intentions to knead and pinch her, sometimes lightly and sometimes firmly, under the cover of the robes.
Her body could only tremble subtly and helplessly in shame.
Everyone was focused on the occasional bubbles rising from the Black Lake.
Not a single person noticed the one in the corner of the stands, hidden under her robes...
...whose body was shaking violently, desperately suppressing the whimpers in her throat.
Over half an hour later, this private, ambiguous 'torture' between them was broken by a sudden commotion from the lake's surface.
The surface suddenly broke; it was Fleur.
She had been entangled by seaweed and failed; she was brought up by Merpeople. As soon as she reached the shore, she broke down crying, screaming her sister's name in French.
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