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After the blinding light, a soft "click" suddenly rang out. The sound wasn't loud, but everyone present heard it clearly.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the golden egg split open directly along that thin crack.
The two halves of the shell fell to the sides, revealing what was inside.
In the very center of the golden egg, a palm-sized statue appeared.
The material of the statue was unrecognizable; it looked like some kind of white stone, yet also like solidified moonlight. But the most eye-catching thing wasn't the material, but its shape—
A Merperson with iron-grey skin, messy green hair, buck teeth, and bulging eyes.
It was exactly the same as the ones in the Black Lake.
The whole place went silent for a second.
Then, the statue moved.
It opened its mouth and emitted bursts of ethereal chanting. The voice was airy, sounding as if it came from underwater or from a very distant place, carrying a strange melodiousness.
"Your treasure has been lost... We know where it is hidden..."
The song echoed over the Black Lake.
Those few merpeople stopped their movements at the same time.
They turned their heads, looking at the still-chanting statue, a hint of confusion flashing in their eyes.
Then they looked at each other.
"This is..."
"The chieftain's voice."
"Yes, it's the chieftain."
They communicated in gurgles, their voices carrying a hint of surprise.
Malfoy was still in a dodging posture, a large part of his body soaked, water droplets hanging from his hair, making him look extremely wretched.
But he didn't care about that; his eyes were fixed on Harry, and the expression on his face was quite a sight.
"Yo, Potter," he drawled, "so the golden egg has to be soaked in water to open? To think you studied it for so long and didn't even know that?"
Harry ignored him.
He stared blankly at the chanting statue on the ground, his brain completely stalled.
The way to open the golden egg... was it really this simple?
Just water?
Just soaking it in water and that's it?
Then why did he, Cedric, and Roger go to such great lengths to study it for so long, mess up two golden eggs, and then beg Lynn to fix them—what was it all for?
He thought of those sleepless nights and those well-worn books.
Harry's gaze moved away from the statue and slowly turned toward Lynn in the crowd.
Lynn stood at the edge of the crowd, his hands in his pockets, his expression... how should he put it? Not surprised at all. He looked as if he had known the secret of the golden egg all along.
Harry locked eyes with him for two seconds.
Lynn read Harry's meaning: You knew all along?
Lynn shrugged slightly: You didn't ask.
Harry suddenly understood a little why Lynn could so generously sell three golden eggs.
Malfoy was still being sarcastic nearby.
"Potter? Potter! Why aren't you speaking? Have you finally realized how stupid you are?"
Harry finally turned his head and shot him a glance.
"What did you say?" Harry asked.
Malfoy opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Hagrid's loud voice rang out.
"Alright, alright! Stop arguing!" He spread his arms, pushing back the merpeople who still wanted to keep throwing Water Orbs. "This was an accident! Not intentional!"
The merpeople gurgled a few protests but eventually dove back into the water resentfully.
...
Midday arrived.
It was lunchtime, and the Great Hall was bustling and steaming. The four house tables were packed with people, and the aromas of various foods mixed together.
But today, eating wasn't the focus.
The focus was gossip.
Students from basically every school had come to the Great Hall, which happened to be the perfect time for news to spread.
The news of the golden egg being opened had already spread throughout the Castle as if it had grown wings.
By now, many people were already talking about it.
"Have you heard? Harry's golden egg has been opened!"
"How was it opened?"
"It was hit by a Water Orb! Right by the Black Lake, those merpeople were throwing them at Malfoy, but Harry got caught in the crossfire. The golden egg fell into the water, and then it opened!"
"That simple?!"
"It's just that simple! I heard there's a little Merperson statue inside, and it even sings!"
"What does it sing?"
"I don't speak Mermish, how would I know?"
"True, anyway, it's definitely related to the Second Task."
At the Gryffindor table, a fourth-year boy cleared his throat, imitating the statue's chant, and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Woo—!"
The sound was sharp and piercing, completely out of tune, sounding like the scream of a pig being slaughtered.
The surrounding area immediately erupted in laughter.
"Woo—!" another boy joined in, his voice sounding even more tragic.
"Hahahaha!!"
More people joined in and began to mimic the Merperson's chant:
"You have such high-speed rotating Alchemy entering Hogwarts, remember the formula I gave... when I was young..."
"Pasta must be stirred with No. 42 concrete, because the length of this screw will easily directly affect the torque of the excavator..."
Anyway, that was roughly how it sounded to Lynn. He didn't know how Language Mastery translated it into something so abstract.
Of course, where there was joy, there was anger.
And the ones who were angry were none other than the three Durmstrang champions who had just spent a fortune buying three golden eggs from Lynn a few days ago.
They felt like clowns at that moment.
Because just now, they had only just figured out the correct way to open the golden egg and were preparing to come and show off to the champions of the other schools.
Who would have thought that the clue they spent 300 Galleons to get would suddenly become common knowledge?
It made them really want to go to Lynn for a return and refund, but they didn't dare.
Between being angry and resentful, they chose—to seethe with resentment.
...
With the arrival of February, the atmosphere of the entire school became even more heated.
Three long months of having nothing to do—of course, it wasn't nothing for the champions; they were busy studying the golden eggs and were too anxious to sleep—but for ordinary students, it really felt like there was nothing to do.
No matches, no tasks, only endless homework; after a long time of this, restlessness was inevitable.
So when February finally arrived, the students were almost as excited as if it were a holiday. The discussions in the corridors were louder than ever, the speed of gossip in the Great Hall tripled, and even Peeves became exceptionally active—though he was always active.
And what best reflected this enthusiasm were the increasingly outrageous guesses about the content of the competition.
The first version appeared on a morning in early February.
At the Ravenclaw table, a boy wearing thick glasses put down The Daily Prophet in his hand and spoke with conviction:
"I heard the Second Task is for the champions to duel two Water Dragons!"
The surroundings went silent for a second.
"Water Dragons?" someone asked.
"Yes, Water Dragons! Dragons that live in deep water, even more ferocious than Fire Dragons!" The boy pushed up his glasses, his tone certain. "Whoever can kill the Water Dragons can pass the competition."
"That simple?"
"That simple."
A Hufflepuff girl nearby couldn't help but interject: "But... not all champions are good at underwater combat. Fleur and Krum are one thing, but what about Harry?"
The Ravenclaw boy paused for a moment, then waved a hand.
"Well, that's up to them. They're champions, after all; they have to have some skill."
This version circulated around the campus for about three days.
Then it was replaced by a second version.
"It can't be that simple," said a Gryffindor boy this time. "I heard the champions have to dive ten thousand meters into the Atlantic Ocean without equipment to slay a sea monster!"
"Ten thousand meters?!" the listeners gasped.
"Yes, ten thousand meters. No equipment, barehanded, killing a sea monster."
"How... how could that even be possible?"
The Gryffindor boy shrugged.
"That's why it's called the Triwizard Tournament. What kind of tournament would it be without some difficulty?"
This version was even more outrageous than the previous one, but it spread even faster. Probably because the words "ten thousand meters" and "sea monster" sounded exciting enough.
Then the third version came.
"No, no, no," a Ravenclaw girl returning from the library said mysteriously, "the version I heard is—the Triathlon."
"Triathlon?"
"Yes, starting from Hogwarts, swimming across the English Channel, crossing the Pyrenees to Beauxbatons, and then swimming across Hokkaido to Durmstrang."
The whole place went silent.
"...Hokkaido?" someone repeated with difficulty.
"Yes, Hokkaido."
"Hokkaido in Japan?"
"I guess so. Is there any other Hokkaido?"
"But... Durmstrang is in Europe! Hokkaido is in Asia! There's a whole continent and an ocean in between!"
The Ravenclaw girl blinked.
"That's why it's called a Triathlon."
Everyone looked at each other.
This was no longer just outrageous; it was a pure geographical disaster.
Swimming from Hogwarts across the English Channel—that's toward France. Crossing the Pyrenees—that's toward Spain. Then to Hokkaido—that would mean crossing the entire Eurasian continent and then swimming across the Sea of Japan.
The champions would probably die halfway there.
Because this version was so outrageous, it actually gained quite a few believers. Probably because it was absurd enough that people thought, "Maybe the Ministry of Magic really could do something like this."
The rumors became more and more outrageous.
Lynn thought it was lucky they weren't the task designers.
If it were designed according to these rumors, what hope would the champions have? Slaying a sea monster and two Water Dragons while swimming across Hokkaido.
That wouldn't be a tournament anymore; it would be murder.
...
Time passed day by day amidst various speculations.
February 17th.
February 20th.
February 23rd.
The numbers on the calendar drew closer, and the atmosphere in the school grew increasingly tense.
The whispers in the corridors turned into loud discussions. The gossip in the Great Hall turned into betting—someone had secretly opened a book, wagering on which champion would take first place.
It was said that the one with the lowest odds wasn't Krum, nor was it Cedric, but Lynn.
"After all, his performance in the First Task was too outrageous," the Weasley Twins, who had opened the book, explained. "Too many people are betting on him, so the odds had to be lowered."