The Tenth Weasley - CH - 140

Harry finished repeating the eerie underwater song. The cold wind cut across the dock, whipping at their cloaks — but Hermione seemed frozen for a different reason entirely. Her eyes widened with that familiar spark of sudden realization.

She didn’t waste a second.

“Merpeople.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

Hermione pointed at the egg in his hands.

“We cannot sing above the ground. That’s the key. That means the song only works underwater — so the singers must be merpeople. And I know — I’ve read — that there is a merpeople colony in the Black Lake.”

Viktor frowned in surprise. “Zere is? In zis lake?”

Hermione nodded firmly, already pacing.

“Yes. A large one. It’s barely mentioned in British wizarding books, but I found it referenced in Magical Aquatic Societies of Europe. The merpeople are known to be territorial and fiercely protective of their home.”

Harry stared at her. “So the next task is in their territory?”

“Exactly,” Hermione confirmed. “The Triwizard Council wouldn’t mention their singing if the location didn’t matter.”

Viktor folded his arms, processing it all. “So you vill be diving into deep vater. Dark vater. Full of creatures.”

He shuddered. “I prefer dragons.”

Harry groaned. “That makes two of us.”

Hermione stopped pacing, turning to face Harry head-on. Her voice softened with dread.

“We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss. That means… they won’t take an item. They’ll take a person.”

Harry’s heart stopped cold.

“A person?” he repeated — too quietly.

Hermione nodded. “Someone you care about. Someone you can’t stand to lose.”

Viktor glanced between them, brows raised. “So… one of us?”

Hermione swallowed, her gaze dropping. “Most likely me… or someone from your family.”

Harry’s magic flared instantly — a violent blue spark bursting across his palm. The dock beneath them creaked, dark wood trembling at the surge of power he couldn’t control.

“They’re going to abduct my family?” Harry’s voice shook with fury. “Or you? And call it a game?”

Hermione stepped forward quickly, placing both her hands over his glowing one before he blew up the pier by accident.

“Harry. Look at me.”

He didn’t.

So she said it again — lower, steadier.

“Harry.”

His mismatched eyes finally met hers — wild with protective rage.

“No one will be harmed,” Hermione said firmly. “This tournament is watched by the entire magical world. Delegations. Laws. They will keep the hostages safe. Protected.”

Viktor nodded in agreement. “Dumbledore is zere. He vould not allow permanent harm.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “They chained dragons. They made us fight them.”

Hermione’s expression softened — yes, she understood that fear well.

“But the hostages will be monitored every second,” she assured him. “This task is a rescue mission — not a murder attempt.”

She held tighter to his hand.

“And you will rescue whoever they take.”

Harry’s breath came calmer then. The sparks faded. His hand slowly relaxed beneath hers.

“Promise?” he whispered — a small, terrified bit of vulnerability escaping before he could stop it.

She smiled sadly. “Promise.”

---

Forming a Plan

Harry stood up straighter, resolve burning now instead of panic.

“So. Step one: breathe underwater. Step two: rescue them within an hour. Step three: punch every member of the Tournament Council in the face.”

Viktor snorted. “I like step three.”

Hermione rolled her eyes — but a relieved smile curved her lips.

“We’ll need to study everything about merpeople. Underwater magic. Swimming endurance. And find the best method for you to breathe underwater. Spells? Potions? Something else.”

Harry nodded.

“We train together,” he said quietly. “No matter what.”

Viktor gave his shoulder a solid tap. “Of course. You are not going into zat lake without proper training.”

Hermione grabbed his other hand, grounding him completely.

“You won’t lose anyone, Harry. Because we’re going to make sure you’re ready long before the task arrives.”

Harry looked at them both — his best friend and his girlfriend — standing together against the cold wind, already with him in every step of the danger ahead.

He took a long breath through clenched teeth.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s get to work.”

Charlie Potter was sprawled across a stone bench near the Hogwarts courtyard, surrounded by his friends — fellow Gryffindor boys who were eagerly debating theories about the golden egg. The group had parchment covered with scribbles, diagrams of magical birds (all wrong), and doodles of dragons.

“Maybe it’s Goblins?” one friend suggested.

“No,” another argued, “it’s obviously banshees! Banshees love gold!”

Charlie sighed and ran a hand through his already-ruffled hair. “If it were banshees, I think somebody would’ve died already.”

Harry approached, and Charlie’s expression brightened immediately.

“Harry!” Charlie jumped to his feet. “Mate, please tell me you’ve figured this cursed egg out. My ears might never recover from that thing!”

Harry smirked, lifting the egg by its chain. “Good news then. I solved it.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “How!?”

Harry motioned for him to follow, and Charlie quickly dragged his friends away with a whispered, “Oi—make yourselves useful. Practice dueling or something.”

The two brothers walked toward the courtyard fountain — frozen over in intricate patterns of ice.

Once they were alone, Harry spoke quietly.

“It’s the lake. The clue only makes sense underwater. The singers? Merpeople.”

Charlie blinked. “Merpeople? As in spears, tridents, and ‘we hate surface-dwellers’ merpeople!?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. And the second task is a rescue operation. They’re going to take someone we care about — someone we can’t leave behind.”

Charlie’s grip tightened on the egg. “They’ll kidnap family?”

Harry nodded again — blunt, grim.

Charlie’s bravado slipped for a moment. “Blimey…”

There was silence. Then Charlie looked up with a crooked smile.

“Well… at least now I know I’ll be saving someone important.”

Harry snorted. “Just make sure it’s not me.”

Charlie laughed — though it sounded nervous.

Charlie turned serious again as he studied his brother’s face.

“Why are you helping me with this, Harry?” he asked quietly. “We’re rivals. Champions. Aren’t you supposed to… I dunno, try to win?”

Harry met his gaze — steady, warm.

“I am going to win,” he said confidently.

Charlie blinked.

Harry chuckled. “Helping you isn’t going to stop that.”

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. “Still… you’d give me the advantage. Why? After everything…”

Harry softened, voice calmer.

“Because we’re brothers — whether people laugh at that or not. I don’t want to watch you drown or fail just to get a trophy.”

Charlie stared at him — surprised, touched.

“…Thanks, Harry.”

Harry clapped his shoulder. “Don’t get sentimental on me.”

Harry crouched and tapped the golden egg. “So here’s the plan.”

Charlie leaned closer.

“If Viktor and Hermione can’t help me find a safe underwater breathing spell in time, I’ll use Gillyweed.” Harry paused, shook his head. “Wrong story. Never mind.”

Charlie blinked. “What?”

Harry waved the confusion away. “Point is — Viktor knows a supplier in Hogsmeade who sells rare aquatic plants. If needed, I’ll get Gillyweed from there.”

Charlie nodded slowly. “And that stuff lets you breathe in water?”

Harry nodded. “Grow gills. Hands become fins. Feet become flippers. Looks ridiculous but keeps you alive.”

Charlie made a face. “Sounds like transfiguration gone wrong…”

“Maybe,” Harry replied with a half-shrug. “But it works.”

Charlie swallowed, nervous. “So what do I do?”

Harry smiled. “You practice swimming. Endurance. Underwater navigation. Get used to the cold,” he added with a groan, remembering the freezing lake.

Charlie rubbed his arms. “Cold I can handle — I train with dragons.”

Harry smirked. “Trust me, cold water is worse.”

Charlie laughed nervously. “So you’ll help me practice too?”

Harry nodded. “We’ll train together. Viktor’s going to help. Hermione’s researching everything she can find about merpeople and underwater spells.”

Charlie blew out a relieved breath. “Good. Because I want to show Dad and Mum that I’m not just the ‘less famous’ Potter.”

Harry looked sharply at him.

“You’re not less anything,” he said firmly. “You just haven’t shown them what you can do yet.”

Charlie blinked again — then grinned.

“You’re… weirdly good at pep talks.”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my brooding reputation.”

Charlie held the golden egg protectively.

“So we both race against time to save someone we love…” he said slowly.

Harry nodded.

“And we both make it back alive,” he added.

Harry’s eyes softened — fierce with determination.

“Damn right.”

Charlie stuck out his hand. Harry looked at it, then gripped it — a silent oath between two brothers caught in a game far greater than themselves.

Harry pulled him in for a quick, rough, totally un-broody hug.

Harry slapped his shoulder. “Now go. Train. Before the lake eats you alive.”

Charlie saluted dramatically. “Yes, Commander!”

Harry groaned. “Never call me that again.”

Charlie just laughed and ran back to his friends, already brimming with excitement and fear.

As Charlie disappeared from sight, Harry’s smile faded slowly.

Winning didn’t matter anymore.

Survival did.

Protecting those he loved did.

He looked toward the black, silent lake.

He could almost hear the song again scraping at his bones:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss…

He whispered to the water:

“Try me.”

The lake, dark and ancient, rippled back — as if accepting the challenge.

Midnight cloaked Hogwarts in shadow. The moonlight barely touched the ancient stones as two figures, hidden beneath a shimmering Invisibility Cloak, slipped silently through a narrow staircase leading into the lower castle.

Harry’s whisper echoed quietly beneath the fabric:

“Keep close, Viktor. If anyone sees even a flicker— we’re caught.”

Viktor grumbled. “Your cloak is too small. I feel like a sardine in a can.”

Harry smirked.

They crept deeper into the dungeons, torches flickering weakly along the walls. The air grew colder, dampness clinging to their boots. Harry’s heart beat faster with every step — this was once his territory. Hidden. Private. A part of his past.

After several turns, the familiar wall appeared: a serpentine emblem etched in stone, green eyes glimmering faintly.

Viktor whispered, “Are you sure zis vill vork?”

Harry stepped forward, placing a hand on the carved serpent and whispered:

“Open.”

— in Parseltongue.

The stone shifted with a grinding sigh, the wall peeling away like a snake uncoiling.

Viktor inhaled sharply. “Zat… was terrifying.”

Harry shrugged. “Parselmouth perks.”

They slipped inside.

The Slytherin common room lay dim and quiet, only a few late-night students sleeping in chairs by the fire — books on their laps, quills still clutched in hand. Green flames crackled, illuminating silver-and-emerald banners.

“We move fast,” Harry murmured, guiding Viktor behind the cloaked shimmer.

They passed through a narrow corridor at the back — unnoticed by students who would never imagine Harry Weasley walking these walls again.

Harry stopped before a plain stone arch — unmarked, ordinary.

To Viktor’s confusion, Harry tapped the stone thrice with his wand.

Runes flared. Ancient Slytherin wards shifted aside.

A door materialized — dark steel, serpent handle — and swung open.

Viktor stared in awe. “You made zis? Here?”

Harry couldn’t help a proud grin. “A personal project from my first year.”

They stepped inside.

The room opened into a breathtaking underground study:

The entire ceiling was a magically-recreated window beneath the Great Lake, water rippling overhead, moonlight shimmering through kelp forests.

Walls lined with enchanted books — waterproof scrolls, artifact drawers, potions shelves.

Scrying pools reflecting underwater caverns.

A massive table covered with quills and maps of the lake’s floor.

Viktor’s eyes widened.

“It is like… being underwater without drowning.”

Harry nodded. “Exactly what I need.”

He tapped his wand against a giant glass wall that showed the shifting lake — sand, rocks, and shadows.

“Let’s find out what’s down there.”

The wall refined itself — zooming into depths untouched by sunlight.

Strange silhouettes drifted past:

Grindylows, spindly claws scraping the sand.

Giant squid tentacles, curling lazily like dark storms waiting to awaken.

Schools of glittering fish scattering whenever something bigger passed.

A massive shadow in the far distance — something ancient… slithering.

Viktor gulped.

“I suddenly regret agreeing to help you train underwater.”

Harry cracked a grin.

“Come on. You faced dragons with me.”

“Dragons breathe air,” Viktor muttered. “Dragons do not… sneak.”

Harry pointed the wand again — this time the projection descended further into darkness.

There — rough stone huts. Spears. Figures patrolling.

The merpeople colony.