Second Task.
The dungeons of Hogwarts were quiet, save for the occasional drip of water echoing off the stone walls. Snape swept into his office with the grace of someone always expecting trouble.
He paused. Something was… off.
His office looked normal at first glance—books aligned perfectly, cauldrons in their places, vials unshaken. But then the door creaked shut behind him, and a faint rustling caught his attention.
His narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he turned toward his desk.
There, perched atop it, sat his prized silver quill. Or rather—it was supposed to be. Instead, it now had bright pink feathers and glitter etched down its spine, with tiny magical lips on the nib.
Snape blinked. The moment his gaze lingered on the quill, the enchanted object chirped in a mockingly cheerful voice:
"You’re looking rather moody today, Professor."
Snape's scowl deepened as he cast a detection charm. Nothing. No signature magic. No trace of the culprit. His eye twitched.
From behind a nearby wall in the corridor, Regulus leaned casually against the cold stone, arms folded, grinning to himself. Loki’s advice echoed in his mind:
"If you're going to play tricks, make sure you leave no footprints… only confusion."
He had used a blend of charms from different sources, hidden behind a layered warding shell that would fizzle the moment someone tried to trace it. No one would ever know who enchanted the quill. Unless, of course, he wanted them to.
Inside the office, Snape fired three counter-curses at the quill. It responded with a giggle and a bright sparkle of confetti.
"Oh Sevvy," It cooed, "Have you considered smiling today? Or anything but scowling?"
"Who the bloody hell did this?!" Snape snapped.
"Your mother. She was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries."
"Ahh!!!" Snape thundered.
From the shadows, Regulus smirked under Harrys cloak and disappeared back to the dorm as fast as possible.
He just got back into the common room when someone grabbed him.
"What were you doing?" Harry pulled the cloak off his brother.
"Ah...late night walk?"
"With my cloak?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't make me read your mind."
Regulus smirked, clearly proud. “Alright, I enchanted a quill in Snape’s office. It now shouts random rude—and accurate—insults every time he tries to use it. Things like ‘your potion smells like swamp butt’ and ‘no one’s scared of your billowing robes.’”
Harry blinked, then snorted. “Please tell me it does the voice.”
“Of course it does!” Regulus grinned. “I charmed it to sound exactly like dad when he’s being smug.”
Harry smirked. “Brilliant. And now Snape’s fuming and trying to figure out who’s behind it?”
Regulus nodded proudly. “He ran every trace spell he knows. I left zero magical signature. It’s flawless.”
Harry couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Okay, that’s actually impressive.”
“I know, right?” Regulus beamed. “We’ll probably hear about it tomorrow. You have to sit next to me at breakfast.”
“You’re trouble,” Harry said, chuckling. “But... that was definitely Sirius-level prank quality.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Regulus smirked.
Harry shook his head. “Just don’t get caught.”
Regulus smirked. “Please. I’m a Black. Getting caught would be embarrassing.”
Harry felt a rush of pride. "My little brother is a menace. Come here I'm gonna hug you!"
"No!" Regulus ran off laughing to his room.
Harry laughed and climbed the stairs to head down to his bed but he swore could swear he heard something, the faint echo of a quill yelling “Get your greasy fingers off me, cave bat!"
They almost made it to breakfast whem the heavy silence of the hallway outside the Great Hall was broken only by the clipped, furious steps of Professor Snape. His robes billowed behind him like a stormcloud as he rounded the corner and stopped dead in front of Regulus and Harry.
"You two," Snape hissed, his black eyes narrowed to slits. "One of you is responsible for that... that abomination of a quill."
Regulus blinked up at him, innocent as can be. "What quill?"
Snape's jaw tightened. "The one that—in your father’s voice—called me ‘a walking potions accident with the hairstyle of a mourning ferret.’”
Harry coughed into his hand, hiding a smirk.
Snape’s eyes flicked to him instantly. “You find this amusing, Potter?”
“I find your tone familiar, sir,” Harry said coolly. “Accusation before investigation.”
Before Snape could explode, Remus appeared from around the corner, arms folded and brow raised. “Severus, is there a reason you’re interrogating two children?”
Snape’s nostrils flared. “The quill mocked me for ten full minutes before I destroyed it. It had Sirius’s voice. That alone is damning.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you’ve made it abundantly clear over the years that you hate Sirius. Anyone who knows you would use Sirius as a way to mock you knowing it would bloody work."
Regulus looked up at Remus and added innocently, “Also… if it was my dad’s voice, doesn’t that mean he could’ve done it?”
Remus choked on a laugh, while Harry grinned outright.
Snape’s eyes darkened. “Your family’s sense of humor will be your downfall.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Harry said lightly.
Snape’s robes whipped behind him as he turned and stormed away, grumbling something about "damned prankster bloodlines."
Remus sighed, then looked down at the boys. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
Regulus gave a smug shrug. “Can’t prove it.”
Harry winked. “And even if you could, you wouldn’t snitch. Right, Moony?”
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I miss the days when I only had one Sirius to deal with.”
The others—Hermione, Neville, Susan, Blaise, Lyall, and Pietro—approached in a loose group, all of them casting curious glances toward the pair.
"What did you two do this time?" Susan asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Snape looked like he was about to hex the next living thing he saw," Blaise added.
Hermione crossed her arms. “He stormed past us looking even more angry than usual. Everyone saw it.”
Neville looked between them. “So… are we pretending that wasn’t you two?”
Harry shrugged. "He thinks it was us. Again."
Regulus looked almost proud. “Someone enchanted his quill to insult him every he's near it. Said things like, ‘This grease-stained relic should be put down.’”
Blaise snorted. "No way. That's brutal."
"And Snape thinks it was you?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Naturally," Harry replied flatly. “I wasn't in the room, and I didn’t start the fire, so of course I must've lit the match."
Regulus grinned. "I think the quill called him a ‘glorified potion-stirrer with daddy issues.’”
Pietro burst out laughing and then immediately covered his mouth. “Sorry—sorry, that’s just—okay, that’s kind of genius.”
Hermione gave both Harry and Regulus a long look, then said cautiously, “Did you do it?”
There was a pause. Harry and Regulus exchanged a glance.
“You can prove nothing." Regulus said.
"I had no involvement that would lead to conviction." Harry said.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she smiled all the same. “Still, maybe lay low for a bit?”
Pietro was still chuckling, and Lyall nodded thoughtfully. “I want to learn how to enchant stuff like that.”
Hermione shot Harry a warning look. “Don’t you dare teach him.”
Harry held up his hands, innocent as ever. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Regulus just smirked wider. “I may or may not have already wrote the instructions down.”
Sirius exploded with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. He clutched his stomach and leaned back in the chair, absolutely howling. “Merlin’s bloody beard! I haven’t laughed this hard since James swapped Snape’s shampoo with sleekeazy hair glue.”
“I didn’t say who did it,” Harry said innocently, though his grin was anything but.
Sirius wiped a fake tear from his eye, still chuckling. “You didn’t have to. Only one person in this castle is that devious and dramatic with flair. Regulus,” He said proudly, voice thick with amusement. “My menace of a son. Brilliant little monster.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “May his pranks always be petty and precise.”
"If you two are done." Remus called them over to the table. "I'll pretend I didn’t hear any of that."
They sat hunched over the Marauder’s Map, their eyes scanning every inch of the parchment. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over the detailed layout of Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds.
“There has to be something we’re missing,” Harry muttered, his fingers tracing the names walking the corridors. “If someone’s using Polyjuice, they should still show up as themselves.”
“Unless there’s magic at play that the map doesn’t account for,” Remus suggested, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Sirius scowled. “That’s a problem. This map has never failed us before.” His eyes darted over the names, searching for anything out of place. “We’d know if something was off, right?”
Harry nodded, but unease still settled in his gut. Every name on the map matched exactly where it should be—no false identities, no missing people, no signs of deception.
"Dumbledore. Nope." Sirius read. "Snape? No if someone replaced him would we even change that?"
"No." Remus and Harry said together.
"Crouch? Nope still the same." Sirius scratched his head.
"Then why does it feel like we’re being played?” Harry exhaled sharply, closing his fists.
Remus exchanged a glance with Sirius before nodding. “Because we probably are.”
"You think Strange will have any ideas?" Sirius asked.
"We'll see." Remus nodded.
While they were working other's had class. For one person in particular it was only adding to his sour mood manly because one voice kept breaking the silence that was usual in his classroom.
“…And if you think about it, the way the ingredients break down in the cauldron is a lot like alchemy, right? It’s all about the transformation of matter! I mean, if you replace the crushed snake fangs with powdered basilisk fang—”
“Pietro,” Lyall muttered, stirring his potion while eyeing Snape warily. “Maybe—”
"—and that's when I realized," Pietro continued enthusiastically, his voice bright and rapid as he waved a stirring rod around for emphasis, "that if you mix powdered unicorn horn with essence of rose thorn, it kind of looks like glitter, but it actually turns into—"
"Mr. Lupin," Snape snapped, his voice icy, "this is Potions class, not your personal stage. Kindly remain silent for more than two seconds."
Pietro paused, blinking innocently. "Two whole seconds? I could definitely try, but, you know, it might be tough—especially when there's just so much to talk about. Like last night, Lyall and I tried to see if—"
"Ten points from Ravenclaw!" Snape hissed, gripping his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.
From across the dungeon classroom, Regulus stifled a laugh behind his hand. The young Gryffindor leaned back in his chair, utterly unconcerned with the accumulating loss of points. A few of his classmates glanced at him nervously, but Regulus merely shrugged, mouthing silently to Pietro: worth it.
Pietro caught Regulus's gaze and grinned broadly, giving an exaggerated thumbs-up. Snape's left eye twitched ominously.
"I swear," the professor growled, his voice dangerously low, "one more word, Lupin—"
"Not even a small one?" Pietro asked earnestly, his eyes wide and hopeful. "What about a whisper? Whispers don't count as words, right? Like, if I whisper really quietly about how—"
"Another twenty points from Ravenclaw!"
Snape turned on his heel, robes billowing dramatically, to check on Lyall, who was quietly—and rather competently—brewing his potion at a station far from his brother.
"At least you can manage silence better than your twin." Snape glared at Lyall.
Lyall looked up with a small, innocent smile that hid the truth. "He's the talker, Professor. I'm the quiet one."
Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then moved toward Regulus. "And you, Black," Snape said coldly, "do you find the loss of house points amusing?"
Regulus met Snape's gaze calmly, completely unfazed. "Not amusing, exactly, sir. But it seems a fair trade. Pietro does make class a lot more interesting."
Snape's lip curled in distaste. "Ten points from Gryffindor for insolence."
Regulus gave a small nod. "Fair enough, Professor."
At the other station, Pietro leaned toward his partner excitedly. "Did I ever tell you about the time we mixed honey and doxy eggs? It was actually kind of fascinating because—"
Snape turned sharply, raising his voice like thunder. "Lupin! Detention!"
"Detention?" Pietro repeated, genuinely surprised. "Cool! I've never had detention before. Do you think I'll have it alone, or will Regulus join me? He seems like detention material—"
Snape looked toward the ceiling, as though praying silently for patience. The class dissolved into muffled giggles. Even Lyall smirked slightly, shaking his head at his brother’s antics.
Snape spun back around, his robes swirling furiously as he marched back to his desk.
Pietro lowered his voice very slightly, winking at Regulus. "Totally worth it," he whispered.
After class Snape went to the Headmaster with anger almost boiling off him.
The fire in Dumbledore’s office crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The scent of aged parchment and lemon drops lingered in the air, yet an unspoken tension hung heavy between the two men standing before the desk.
Snape stood rigidly in front of Dumbledore arms folded tightly across his chest. His black eyes flashed with barely restrained annoyance as he spoke, voice dripping with disdain.
"Headmaster," Snape began sharply, "this school is descending into utter chaos. First Potter—always Potter—and now Lupin's spawn and the Black child are wreaking havoc. The Lupin twins alone have made my classes unbearable. Pietro Lupin doesn't stop talking; his incessant chatter disrupts every lesson. And Lyall Lupin—between his absurd hair and scratching at desks—I swear he's more animal than student."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, a small smile hidden beneath his beard. "Lyall and Pietro are adjusting to Hogwarts life, Severus. Perhaps a little patience—"
Snape scowled, cutting him off. "And Regulus Black! The arrogance rivals that of his godforsaken father. He flaunts his name as if the rules simply don't apply."
Dumbledore sighed gently, fingers steepled in thought. "Regulus is spirited, yes, but hardly the troublemaker Sirius once was."
"Yet," Snape retorted darkly. "And need I remind you that Potter is already insufferable enough on his own. Now he has accomplices. Potter encourages them, headmaster. The boy is a magnet for trouble, and it infects the entire castle."
"Harry has had a difficult year, Severus," Dumbledore reasoned patiently. "And I think, despite your concerns, he's shown remarkable maturity."
Snape sneered openly now. "Remarkable arrogance, perhaps. He believes himself invincible, and these—companions—of his only reinforce that delusion. Mark my words: Lupin's boys and young Regulus will cause more problems. And as always, Potter will be at the center."
Dumbledore met Snape's gaze calmly. "Noted, Severus. I'll speak with Remus and Sirius regarding their sons' conduct. But perhaps you might try reaching out to them with kindness."
Snape's lip curled into a sour smirk. "I'd sooner pet a Hungarian Horntail."
"Of course." Dumbledore chuckled. "Is there anything else?"
Severus expression was carefully schooled, though there was a tightness in his jaw that betrayed his unease. He slowly pulled back the sleeve of his robe, revealing the Dark Mark etched into his pale skin. It was darker than before, the once-faded brand pulsing faintly as though stirring to life.
“It grows stronger,” Snape stated coolly, though his voice carried an edge of concern. “The Dark Lord is regaining his strength. I do not believe it will be long now.”
Dumbledore clasped his hands together, his gaze settling on the mark with grim contemplation. “Then the storm is nearly upon us.”
Snape’s dark eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Have you considered how we will face it? The Order is fractured, the Ministry has that fool Fudge, and Potter—”
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled slightly, though not in amusement. “Harry remains our best hope, though he is still but a boy.”
“A boy who attracts chaos like a moth to flame,” Snape countered. “And now, with Strange—”
“Doctor Strange is a powerful ally,” Dumbledore interrupted, his expression unreadable. “Yet he is also a complication. His methods, his knowledge of magic beyond our own… He does not share everything with us, that much is clear.”
Snape sneered. “And you trust him?”
“I trust that he believes he is acting in Harry’s best interests,” Dumbledore said softly, leaning back in his chair. “But I fear his vision may not align with ours. He sees paths I do not.”
Snape scoffed. “Perhaps he simply knows things you refuse to acknowledge.”
Dumbledore’s eyes darkened momentarily, but he did not reply. Instead, he turned his gaze to the flickering flames in the fireplace.
“We must prepare, Severus,” he murmured. “For Voldemort’s return… and for whatever else Strange foresees in the shadows.”
Harry was walking through the halls of Hogwarts, mind buzzing with thoughts about the Triwizard Tournament and the lack of information of who could be stealing polyjuice ingredients. He considered just violating everyone's mind but Hermiones vocie about it being to close to Snape kepts him. Still if I did it last year I could have stopped Ginny.
Suddenly, a small voice echoed in the corridor, pulling him from his thoughts.
"Harry Potter, sir!"
He turned around to see Dobby hurrying toward him, his ears flapping in excitement, his large eyes gleaming with something important to say.
Harry smiled "Dobby! What’s up?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Dobby wishes to show Harry Potter, sir, something very important!" Dobby said, his voice practically bouncing with energy. "Dobby could not show Harry Potter, before... but now, Dobby is free to tell you, and the time has come."
Harry raised an eyebrow, curious. Dobby had never been one for secrets, and Harry had the distinct feeling that whatever Dobby was about to show him was something significant.
"What is it, Dobby?" Harry asked.
Dobby looked around, ensuring no one was around before leading Harry to a seemingly ordinary part of the castle. Harry followed him, wondering what this was about, but he trusted Dobby. The elf had been with him through so much and had always been loyal.
After a few twists and turns, Dobby stopped in front of a wall that looked just like any other stone wall in Hogwarts. Harry was about to ask what this was all about when Dobby placed back and forth a few time.
Then the wall shimmered slightly before the stones began shifting, revealing a door that had been hidden until now. It opened into a vast, secret room beyond, with countless shelves stacked with books, odd artifacts, and various objects that seemed to hum with magic. It was a room Harry had never seen before.
"This is the Room of Requirement, Harry Potter" Dobby said proudly, his eyes shining with excitement. "It can only be found when someone needs it most. And now, Harry Potter needs it."
Harry stepped inside, looking around in awe. The room was so vast, its purpose unclear—almost like it could become anything. He could feel the magic in the air, a hum of potential just waiting to be tapped.
"Dobby," Harry said, glancing at the elf with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Why are you showing me this now?"
"Dobby has waited, Harry Potter, sir. Dr. Strange destroyed the dark magic. Now, Dobby is free to show Harry Potter this room." Dobby's voice dropped slightly, and his expression became more serious. "This room... it holds what is needed. You may find something here that will help you in the Tournament. Or something more."
Harry glanced around again, trying to make sense of the room. The shelves were filled with objects, but none of them stood out to him.
"You said this room holds what is needed," Harry said slowly. "What do you mean? What is in here for me?"
Dobby looked around and nodded. "The Room of Requirement can give you what you need. Not what you want, but what you need. Sometimes what you need... is not always obvious." He gave a small, knowing smile. "But Dobby believes this room can help Harry Potter in the Tournament. And beyond."
Harry was intrigued, but he also knew that sometimes the room could be a bit too cryptic. Strange had been right about waiting until the Horcrux was destroyed. The last thing he wanted was to find this room and have that in there waiting.
"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I guess I have a lot to think about."
"Always happy to help, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said, grinning. "And Dobby will be here, waiting if you needs anything else. This room will always be here."
Harry gave Dobby a smile before turning back to the vast, open space of the room, feeling a strange pull to explore further. Then he had to spread the news.
A few hours later.
The castle was quiet for once, its stone corridors bathed in soft torchlight. Harry walked ahead, glancing back over his shoulder at his friends. Hermione was reading his every movement like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Neville followed with curiosity burning in his eyes. Blaise and Susan trailed just behind, whispering to each other.
"So... why are we sneaking around up here?" Blaise asked, his tone casual but intrigued.
Harry gave a small grin. "Because I'm going to show you something incredible. A place that only appears when you really need it."
Hermione tilted her head. "Is this about that rumor? The ‘room that changes’ on the seventh floor?"
"It’s not a rumor," Harry replied. "It’s real. Dobby told me about it. Figured it’s time you all saw it."
He stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet.
"Now watch," Harry said, beginning to pace back and forth. "You have to walk past it three times and think really hard about what you need."
He closed his eyes and focused. A place to train, a place to plan, a place for all of us.
The others watched, and just as Hermione opened her mouth to question him, a door emerged from the stone, sliding into place as if it had always been there.
Susan gasped. "No way."
Neville blinked. "That’s mental."
Harry pushed open the door, revealing a massive, high-ceilinged room lined with training dummies, spellbooks, shelves of magical artifacts, and even a cozy corner with cushions and enchanted maps.
Hermione stepped inside slowly, her eyes wide. "It’s… magnificent. It responds to need? That’s ancient magic."
"Exactly," Harry said, glancing back at them. "This is ours now. A safe place. A place we can use without anyone watching."
Blaise gave an approving nod. "This could be useful."
"Especially with that attack at the World Cup," Susan added, her voice serious.
Hermione looked at Harry. “You really trust us with this?”
Harry met her gaze without hesitation. “Completely.”
Neville smiled. “Then let’s make the most of it.”
The door shut softly behind them, sealing the beginnings of something far bigger than any of them yet realized.
The Room had a vast, open space, perfect for their practice. The others stood by, watching as Luna readied herself with her unique flying arrow. Th arrow hovered in front of her, waiting for the signal.
She stood still, her eyes closed for a moment, and with a soft whistle, the arrow shot forward, swerving through the air like a guided missile. It zipped through the room with eerie precision, gliding around pillars and weaving through obstacles, but suddenly it began to veer off course.
"Oh no," Luna muttered, her eyes widening in realization. She hadn’t anticipated the momentum. The arrow darted towards Neville, who was standing with a look of confusion on his face.
"Neville, watch out!" Harry shouted.
Neville barely had time to react, his eyes locking on the fast-approaching projectile. He froze, panic setting in. But before the arrow could strike, Hermione reacted swiftly, raising her arm.
With a smooth motion, she summoned her shield just in time, and the arrow hit it with a dull thud, skidding harmlessly to the side.
The room fell silent for a brief moment.
"That was close," Neville said, breathing out a sigh of relief.
Luna, seemingly unaffected by the near-miss, gave a serene smile. "I must work on the fine-tuning of my whistle," she remarked. "The arrow’s eagerness sometimes gets the best of it."
Hermione lowered her shield, giving Luna a playful look. "Maybe just a little less enthusiasm next time?"
Luna giggled, completely unbothered. "I suppose you’re right. But it’s so much fun!"
Neville, still a little shaken, gave a small laugh. "I’ll try not to stand in the path of the next one."
"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said, turning to her with a grin. "That was impressive."
Hermione shrugged modestly, but her eyes were still scanning the room for any other potential threats. "All in a day's work," she said, but her voice held a slight edge of concern. "Just... maybe warn us when you're going to try that again, Luna?"
Luna smiled brightly. "Of course. I wouldn’t want to cause any harm." She leaned in a kissed Neville softy. "Sorry."
"It's fine." He smiled back.
"Definitely don't make her angry." Blaise smirked.
"I'm not suicidal."
Luna laughed. "Whose up for another round?"
The others exchanged amused looks, ready to continue their practice in the odd yet fascinating room.
The staff room was unusually lively the next morning. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows as professors gathered around the enchanted table, parchment and teacups floating lazily beside them. At the head sat McGonagall, ever composed, while Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, Remus, and Wanda sat in their usual places.
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Before we address the Triwizard security protocols, are there any behavioral matters to bring up?"
Snape's chair creaked as he leaned forward, a scowl already planted firmly on his face.
"Yes," he said icily, "I would like to discuss Pietro Lupin. Again."
Several staff members glanced up with barely concealed amusement.
Snape continued, "The boy was given a simple detention—copy lines, remain silent, reflect. Instead, he treated it as an opportunity for a three-hour monologue. I was forced to conjure a Silencing Charm halfway through."
"Three hours?" Professor Sprout blinked in surprise. "What could he possibly talk about for that long?"
Snape looked like he wanted to vanish. "Everything. At one point, he began debating the ethical implications of magical candy enchantments and somehow transitioned into a discussion on how brooms should be given names 'for bonding purposes.'"
At this, Remus let out a soft chuckle, poorly hidden behind a cough. Wanda, seated beside him, crossed her arms and smiled knowingly.
"He is very enthusiastic," she said lightly.
"He's a your son," Remus added, lips twitching. "Enthusiasm is sort of in the job description."
Snape glared at them both. "He also asked me if I ever 'just sat and watched clouds until they looked like dark potions.' I—what does that even mean?"
Flitwick tried to suppress a chuckle, and even McGonagall’s lips twitched in the faintest trace of a smile.
"I’ll speak to him," Wanda said with practiced calm, though the glint in her eye suggested she was more amused than concerned.
"He talks in his sleep too, if that helps," Remus offered, deadpan.
Snape slumped slightly in his chair, muttering something under his breath about “rampant extroversion” and “nightmare children.” He was going to have to choose if he would ever give that boy a detention again or keep his sanity.
"Very well," McGonagall concluded. "Noted. Now—on to the security measures around the lake."
The atmosphere was soom tense yet focused. A large map of the Black Lake floated in midair, enchanted to show every hidden cavern, magical creature, and barrier set for the upcoming task. Around the table sat the key staff members and tournament officials, reviewing final preparations.
McGonagall tapped her wand on the table. “Let’s get to it. The first task was dangerous enough. We cannot afford any oversights this time.”
Flitwick nodded. “The merpeople have confirmed their agreement to assist in guarding the items. Their territory remains off-limits beyond the agreed boundaries.” He gestured to a glowing blue ring on the map.
Madam Hooch leaned forward. “Visibility will be extremely poor. Are we still enforcing the no-surface rule?”
“Yes,” said Bagman, lounging slightly in his chair but keeping his tone serious. “No surfacing unless in serious distress. But we’ll have Aurors and lifeguards stationed around the lake perimeter and underwater as well—thanks to the Ministry and the Avengers’ support.”
Remus, calm and attentive, added, “The champions should be watched closely for magical fatigue. Underwater spellcasting is far more difficult than most realize, even for seasoned duelists.”
“I’ll have my team positioned on all four corners of the lake,” said Frank, glancing to Amelia beside him. “We’ll have a direct view through enchanted goggles and scrying spells.”
Sprout leaned forward, concerned. “And what of the creatures we’re introducing to the path? Grindylows are one thing, but the selkies?”
“They’ve been briefed,” Dumbledore said, his tone quieter than usual, still carrying the faint tension left from recent events. “They understand their role is more theatrical than combative.”
Strange stood near the back, arms folded, silent until now. “I’ve placed an anchor spell along the lakebed. If something unexpected tries to breach the boundary—dark magic or otherwise—it will be redirected.”
McGonagall gave him a firm nod. “Thank you, Doctor. Given recent events… I admit I find your presence reassuring.”
Strange didn’t smile, but he inclined his head. “Let’s just say I’ve seen what happens when we’re not careful.”
Bagman clapped his hands together. “Very well then! The second task is in less than a week.”
“Let’s keep our students alive,” Amelia added pointedly, rising with a purposeful look.
Over the last few days Harry had used the Room a lot. But today he wanted to try something new.
He grinned and concentrated as he focused on what he wanted.
The room shifted, revealing a stunning transformation. The vast chamber had become a massive, serene pool—crystal-clear water stretching from wall to wall, with gentle ripples reflecting the soft glow of enchanted skylights above. Smooth stone steps led into the water, and the air was warm and slightly humid, like a private tropical retreat.
Harry stepped inside, barefoot and wearing swimming trunks. He sighed in contentment, the peaceful sound of water a welcome change from chaos and conflict.
He raised his wand and whispered, “Aqua Firmus.”
The water under his feet surged, forming a stable platform that floated as he walked out deeper into the middle of the pool. With a quick nod to himself, he took a breath and dove in, slipping beneath the surface.
Below, the world was still and silent, only the hum of magical energy surrounding him. He drew his wand again and flicked it in a wide arc. Bright blue light trailed behind, forming glowing runes that hovered in the water. He fired a focused Expelliarmus at one rune, then a Reducto at another, watching how the water shifted the spell's flow and shape.
Spinning mid-swim, Harry slashed upward with his wand, sending a golden ribbon of light spiraling around him like a bubble. He grinned. Practicing underwater made his magic feel more alive—less rigid, more instinctive.
He breached the surface in a smooth motion and rested his arms on the edge of the pool, catching his breath.
“I could live in here,” he muttered, flicking his wand again to reset the underwater targets.
The room responded to his thoughts, the walls adjusting as more magical dummies formed beneath the surface—glowing and mobile, perfect for dueling practice.
Harry grinned and dove back under.
Training had never felt so freeing.
He decided to float on his back for a few minutes, the surface calm beneath him, letting the water ease the soreness still lingering in his muscles. His fingers flexed beneath the surface—still aching, but not enough to keep him from appreciating the moment of peace.
Then door banged open.
Neville’s voice rang out: “Alright, I didn’t believe it when Blaise said you’d turned this place into a pool.”
“You didn’t believe me?” Blaise grinned, already tugging off his outer robes. “When have I ever been wrong about something Harry-related?”
“You really want us to answer that?” Susan asked, walking in beside them in a swimsuit, already tying her hair up.
Harry cracked an eye open and chuckled. “Took you long enough.”
Hermione stepped in last, arms folded with mock disapproval. “Harry James Potter, you could have at least warned us this wasn’t a normal training session.”
“I figured you’d appreciate the surprise,” he said, pushing off the edge to drift toward them. “Besides, don’t we all deserve this?”
Susan dove in first with a splash. “Absolutely.”
Blaise followed, executing a surprisingly graceful flip into the deep end. “That’s how you make an entrance!”
Neville leapt in with a laugh, sending a wave over Harry. “Sorry, mate!”
Hermione rolled her eyes and waded in more carefully, muttering, “Boys,” as she swam toward Harry.
Soon, laughter echoed through the magically enhanced room as splashes, spells for floating torches, and competitive underwater races broke out.
For a brief moment, the burdens of dark tomes, powerful enemies, and impossible expectations faded—replaced by the sound of friends being exactly what they were supposed to be: teenagers, enjoying each other’s company, together.
Harry smiled, water glistening on his face as he looked at his friends. “We’re going to be alright,” he said quietly.
“Of course we are,” Hermione replied, resting beside him in the water. “We always are.”
The morning mist rolled low across the Black Lake, quiet and still before the chaos of the second task. Far from the crowds and judges, Harry stood behind a privacy screen near the water, shrugging into his wetsuit. His left hand clenched and unclenched out of habit, the familiar ache in his blackened fingers throbbing with each pulse of magic.
He stared at the glove lying on the bench beside him.
“You okay, kid?” came Sirius’s voice.
Harry turned slightly as Sirius and Remus approached. Both looked calm, but Harry knew them well enough to see the tension behind their eyes.
“I’m fine,” Harry said, tugging the wetsuit zipper up. “As fine as I can be before diving into freezing water to find a my necklace guarded by Merlin knows what.”
“Perfectly normal Hogwarts morning,” Sirius replied dryly, giving Harry a once-over. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
“I’ve trained for weeks,” Harry said. “Neville, Hermione, Blaise, Susan, and the twins helped. I’m ready.”
Remus stepped forward, setting his hands gently on Harry’s shoulders. “Remember what we talked about. Keep calm, trust your instincts, and don’t force the magic. It’ll flow when you need it to.”
Harry nodded, then reached for the glove and slid it over his darkened fingers. “I know.”
Sirius gave him a lopsided grin. “You’ve got half the school on your side and the other half too scared to bet against you. Not to mention half the Ministry watching from the docks.”
“They better not cheer too loudly if I surface half-drowned,” Harry muttered.
Remus smirked. “We’ll wait until you’re conscious.”
"Oh haha." Harry glared.
Together, they walked to the edge of the lake where the others were already gathered on the dock. Hermione, Neville, Blaise, Susan, Wanda, Natasha, and the twins were all there, waving when they saw him. Regulus stood beside Lyall, bouncing slightly in excitement. Peitro was saying something to Luna who seemed to be the only person who kept up with his mouth.
Frank stood in uniform near the judges, nodding to Harry with a proud smile. “Good luck, Harry,” he called. “We’ll be watching.”
Alice stepped beside him and added, “You’ve got this, sweetheart.”
Harry smiled and waved back, then took a deep breath as he stepped onto the platform, the cool air biting at his exposed skin.
Sirius leaned down and whispered, “Make us proud.”
Remus followed with a quieter, “And come back in one piece.”
Harry grinned. “No promises.”
A VIP platform had been set up on the edge of the Black Lake, where various Ministry officials, Hogwarts staff, and invited guests gathered to observe the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Cameras floated above the water, broadcasting images to enchanted panels that hovered around the viewing area.
Tony lounged in a conjured chair, sunglasses on, arms crossed, and a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He stared at the wide expanse of lake before them with an exaggerated sigh.
"Wow," Tony said dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is thrilling. A whole hour of staring at water. What a bold move, tournament planners. Absolutely edge-of-your-seat excitement."
"You're the one who insisted on front-row seats," Steve said, standing behind him with arms folded.
"Yeah, because I assumed there’d be explosions or krakens or at least a musical number. Not... a lake." Tony took a sip of coffee. "At least the first task had a dragon. Now that was entertainment."
Steve gave him a side glance. "Only because your suit helped take it down."
Tony smirked. "You're welcome. The kid flew it better than I ever did. Good thing he brought it."
"You brought it for him to use," Steve reminded him.
"Semantics."
Natasha, seated beside them, watched the lake intently. “You’re complaining now, but if Harry comes rocketing out of the water half-frozen with a giant sea monster chasing him, you’ll call it genius.”
Tony grinned. “Only if he uses the regulator I slipped him.”
Steve raised a brow. “He’s not using the suit?”
“Nope,” Tony replied. “Wanted to try it with his own magic this time. I respect that. But I did strap a pressure-regulating backup rebreather to his belt. In case he forgets to breathe for, oh, twenty minutes.”
“He would do that,” Natasha muttered.
Steve smiled, watching the ripples on the water. "So, how long before this turns into another 'you should’ve let me build jet-skis for the champions' conversation?"
Tony’s grin widened. “Don’t tempt me. I brought blueprints.”
“Here we go,” Steve said, his eyes narrowing as he saw Dumbledore take the stage.
“Showtime, wizard fishboy,” Tony muttered, eyes on the lake. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The rest of the students had gathered at the lake's edge, murmuring amongst themselves as the second task of the Triwizard Tournament was about to begin.
Hermione watched Harry, now clad in his wetsuit, adjusting it with a small frown on his face. The fabric clung to his body, showing off his toned muscles and six-pack abs. A few of the girls from his year and others gathered around couldn’t help but stare, their whispers and giggles carrying in the air. The glances were quick, and the smiles seemed to get a little more mischievous as they whispered amongst themselves, commenting on Harry’s well-built form.
Hermione, standing a few paces away, crossed her arms, her usual glare in place as she caught their looks. Her eyes darted between the girls, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Honestly, do you lot have no self-control?” she muttered under her breath, but it was loud enough for the girls to hear.
The girls froze, all too familiar with Hermione’s glare that seemed to freeze anyone in their tracks. A few nervous coughs followed, and they quickly turned their attention to the task ahead, as Hermione’s eyes narrowed at them. Harry, oblivious to the attention he was receiving, continued to adjust the wetsuit, rolling up the sleeves slightly and making sure he was comfortable.
Harry flashed a grin at Hermione. “You’re terrifying when you’re mad,” he said with a laugh, shaking his head the fact he found it hot was not something he needed to think about in this suit.
Hermione only rolled her eyes in return, her annoyance melting away as she smiled at him. “Just keep your focus, Harry,” she said, her tone softening. “You’ve got this.”
Harry nodded, his determination setting in as he pulled out his wand. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered,” he assured her.
At the shore, the other competitors were also preparing for the task ahead. Cedric, Viktor, and Fleur were all getting ready in their own way, some focusing on the challenge, others more preoccupied with their own methods.
The cold, murky water of the Black Lake seemed to pulse with life, as if it were a creature of its own. Harry stood at the edge, staring down into its depths, knowing what awaited him below. His heart pounded in his chest, but he steadied himself. The crowd’s murmurs faded away as he focused on the task ahead. He had trained for this moment, and he knew this was just another battle to survive.
Then Dumbledore signal the start.
With one last glance at the stands, Harry raised his wand, the cool metal of it familiar in his grip. He muttered the incantation under his breath, feeling the power surge through him like an electric current.
"Aquaporum vivificus."
A rush of warmth spread through his chest as the spell took hold, the magic infusing him with an unnatural ease. He could feel it now—his lungs expanding, a subtle change allowing him to breathe deeply, freely, as though the water were nothing more than air. The spell didn’t just allow him to breathe, though. It enhanced him. His body shifted, lightened, and the next moment, Harry dove headfirst into the lake.
Sirius, watching from the sidelines with a wry grin, chuckled softly. "Good boy," he murmured under his breath. "Would have been nice if my family had used it," he added with a dry smirk, looking toward the stands where his own family was absent. The Black family had always leaned toward dark magic, but this spell—simple and effective—had never held their interest. Too practical, not sinister enough.
As Harry plunged deeper into the water, his body felt as light as if he were swimming in the air, and he shot forward like a silver fish. He could move faster than he'd ever imagined, his arms and legs propelling him with ease. He was diving deeper, faster, and the weight of the task ahead felt lighter than ever.
The other champions were still at the edge of the water, preparing for their own dives. But Harry was already far ahead, darting through the depths, as the water closed over him like a welcoming embrace. He was ready for whatever came next.
With each strong stroke of his arms and kick of his legs, Harry cut through the water with ease, his enchanted leather armor adjusted for underwater movement. Schools of fish darted past him as strands of kelp swayed in slow, eerie rhythm.
“You're doing well, Harry.”
"Hey Wanda."
“You didn’t think I’d let you do this alone, did you?” she said gently.
Harry grinned underwater, bubbles escaping his mouth. “I figured you'd be watching.”
“Of course. And your breathing spell is holding better than I expected. Sirius finally got the balance right.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Harry joked mentally. “He’s still gloating about how he ‘improved’ it.”
“He’s earned a little pride. But keep your focus."
Harry’s expression hardened as he swam lower, the ruined village now coming into view like the skeleton of a long-dead world.
He thought of the necklace, the tiny silver stag charm inside, once his mother’s. Letting it go had hurt more than he'd expected—but he knew what it meant it was better than a hostage like they wanted to do.
As he slowed near the border of the sunken village, the flickering outline of four glowing pedestals came into focus, each one holding something precious. The test waited beyond.
“Thanks for being here,” Harry said, his voice steady even inside his mind.
Wanda’s voice was warm but tinged with quiet worry. “Always, Harry."
And Harry pressed forward, deeper into the village, ready for what came next.
Before he could reach it, a muffled shriek cut through the water.
Harry spun, his eyes narrowing. Through the dimness, he saw Fleur struggling against a group of merpeople. Unlike the ones who were simply guarding the lake’s treasures, these looked wilder, their spears glinting as they circled her. She fought back, but even a Veela’s power was hindered underwater.
He looked back at the necklace—so close. But he didn’t hesitate.
Harry changed course, kicking his legs and propelling himself forward with a burst of magic. The merpeople barely noticed him before he sent out a powerful pulse of energy, knocking them away from Fleur. One of them recovered quickly, thrusting a spear toward her, but Harry intercepted it with a well-aimed blast from his wand, sending the weapon spiraling into the depths.
He reached for Fleur’s arm, pulling her close. Her wide eyes met his, surprised but grateful. With a quick flick of his wand, he gestured for her to follow. She hesitated for only a second before nodding, kicking off the lakebed and swimming beside him.
The merpeople didn’t pursue—at least, not immediately. They seemed hesitant, eyeing Harry warily as if sensing something off about him. Maybe it was the magic thrumming around him, or maybe it was the way his eyes flashed dangerously in the water’s dim glow. Either way, they backed off just enough for him to turn his attention back to their task.
He guided Fleur to her own target—a silver pendant glistening in the reeds—before returning for his necklace. As soon as their prizes were in hand, they shot toward the surface, breaking through the water just as the final minutes ticked down.
The crowd roared, and Fleur turned to him, still catching her breath. Then, with a grateful smile, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“You saved me,” she said, voice breathless but firm. “I will not forget.”
Harry, still dripping and trying to process the events, merely rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, well… couldn’t just let you get stabbed, could I?”
Fleur gave him a knowing look, before turning toward Madame Maxime. Meanwhile, from the judges’ table, Sirius smirked in amusement, nudging Natasha.
“That’s my boy.”
Harry was drenched, his heart still pounding from the challenges he'd faced in the lake. As he shook the water out of his hair, he saw Fleur standing at the edge of the platform, watching him with a soft smile. The kiss she had given him earlier flashed in his mind, and he couldn't ignore the way it had made Hermione tense up.
There Hermione stood a few paces away, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pressed together in a tight line. Harry knew what she was feeling without needing to ask. He could see the jealousy simmering in her eyes, the frustration that Fleur had come so close to him. Harry didn’t like seeing her like this. He didn’t want her to doubt where his heart was.
Walking over to her, he caught her off-guard and pulled her into a passionate kiss, his lips claiming hers firmly but gently. It was long, enough for the tension between them to melt away. The crowd around them fell silent, watching the couple with interest, but Harry didn’t care. This was for Hermione, a way to remind her of how much she meant to him.
When they pulled away, Hermione’s eyes were wide, her face flushed. Harry gave her a soft smile, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face.
"You’re mine, Hermione," he whispered, his voice low enough only for her to hear. "And no one is going to change that."
She blinked a few times, processing his words, and then a smile spread across her face. The jealousy and insecurity that had been clouding her features disappeared, replaced by the warmth he loved to see. Hermione leaned in and kissed him again, this time more softly, and the world seemed to fade away.
A few minutes after their kiss. Harry sat near the edge of the lake, still damp from the task he'd just completed. Cheers and excited murmurs were still echoing from nearby as students and spectators dispersed back toward the castle.
"Harry?"
He turned, spotting Luna approaching with her usual dreamy expression, quill and notepad in hand.
"Hey, Luna," he said, smiling warmly at her. "What's up?"
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Would you mind terribly if I interviewed you for my paper? The Quibbler has asked for a first-hand account, and you do have a way of attracting interesting stories."
Harry hesitated briefly—he typically hated interviews—but Luna's earnest, genuine expression made his decision easier.
"Only because it's you," he replied, his tone gentle but firm. "If anyone else had asked, I'd probably say no."
Luna brightened, her eyes sparkling with quiet excitement. "That's lovely of you to say, Harry."
He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Alright, ask away."
Luna settled comfortably beside him, dipping her quill into a small bottle of shimmering ink. "First, tell me—did the lake creature community seem pleased to see you, or were they annoyed you disturbed their morning routine?"
Harry paused, surprised, then laughed. Trust Luna to start with something unexpected. Relaxing for the first time that day, he began answering her questions, enjoying the whimsical direction the conversation took.
The crowd in the stands erupted as the scores were announced.
"Mr. Potter receives… ten points!" Bagman’s voice rang out with excitement. “A perfect score!”
The cheering from the Hogwarts section was thunderous, but Harry only offered a tired shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t here to win. He just wanted it over with—every task, every stunt, every magical obstacle.
Cedric approached, water dripping from his hair but a wide grin on his face. “That was brilliant, Harry. Really—above and beyond.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Deserved that score.”
"Thanks," Harry said, and meant it, even if his tone didn’t match the weight of the compliment.
From the Durmstrang camp, Viktor Krum gave Harry a nod of respect. “Good magic,” he said gruffly. “Strong spellwork. Fast thinking.”
Harry gave him a small smile. “You weren’t bad yourself.”
Behind them, the other champions and their entourages were still buzzing about the task. The judges huddled near the edge of the platform, quietly arguing over Fleur’s near-disqualification before she was ultimately awarded partial points.
But none of that mattered much to Harry. He found his way to a towel someone handed him, then to the familiar presence of Hermione and Neville waiting with hot drinks and worried smiles.
“Top score!” Neville grinned. “You’re smashing this tournament.”
Hermione smiled. “That was terrifying and amazing and reckless all at once. But you were incredible.”
Harry smiled faintly and looked out over the lake again. The surface was calm now, but beneath it had held more than just a challenge. He could feel it—something was changing.
He didn’t want glory. He wanted answers.
And he knew… the third task wouldn’t give him any. But something else would. Something darker was coming.
And far away, hidden in the shadows of a ruined manor, Voldemort knew it too.
Madame Olympe Maxime came towards him a few minutes later, her expression warm but serious.
“Monsieur Potter,” she said, her accent rich and refined, “I wished to speak with you before we leave.”
Harry stood straighter, offering a polite nod. “Of course, Headmistress.”
She approached him, her tone gracious. “First, allow me to thank you for saving Fleur’s life. I do not say this lightly. She is one of my brightest and most cherished students. What you did in the second task, and everything since… it speaks of remarkable courage.”
Fleur smiled at Harry, though a faint pink touched her cheeks.
Maxime’s gaze softened slightly. “I also wish to apologize for any trouble my students may have caused you after your name was drawn. Tensions were high, but that is no excuse. You have shown more grace under pressure than many twice your age.”
Harry gave a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. And… it’s all right. Everyone’s been under pressure since the start of this thing.”
“You are kind to say so,” Maxime said with a slight incline of her head. “But I will make sure they understand the weight of your actions—and the honor due to them.”
Fleur stepped closer, her voice gentle. “You earned their respect, Harry. Mine, too.”
Harry blinked, not quite sure what to say. “I… appreciate that.”
Madame Maxime smiled. “I hope, when this tournament is over, you will consider visiting Beauxbatons. I believe our students would benefit greatly from hearing your story firsthand.”
“I… sure,” Harry said, surprised but flattered. “That would be nice.”
Maxime gave him one last nod, then turned gracefully toward her carriage.
As Fleur lingered for a moment longer, she offered him a soft “Merci,” before following her headmistress.
Harry stood there, watching them go, the weight of everything that had happened pressing on his shoulders—but for once, it felt a little lighter.
"Mate!" Neville bounded down the slope toward him, beaming. "You did it! Highest score!"
Harry blinked. "I know. I seriously can't believe it."
"Believe it." Blaise called from behind, arms crossed and grinning. "Cleanest performance, clever use of magic, and no unnecessary risks. The judges loved it. Even Karkaroff had to admit it."
Hermione rushed forward, throwing her arms around Harry. "You were brilliant!" she said, squeezing him tight. "That spell was genius!"
Harry grinned, cheeks tinged pink. "Guess all that practice underwater paid off."
Just then, the familiar shimmer of a portal opened nearby. Tony stepped out first, sunglasses gleaming even in the overcast light. Behind him followed Steve, Natasha, Bruce, and Thor, all clapping as they approached.
Tony whistled. "Well, well, Mr. Potter. First place, and you didn’t even blow up the lake. I’m impressed."
Harry shrugged modestly. "I figured I should keep the explosions to a minimum this time."
"Wise choice," Bruce said with a smile. "Your wandwork down there was sharp. Really showed your growth."
Steve extended his hand, shaking Harry’s firmly. "You stayed focused, followed the mission, and didn’t rely on power you don’t need. That’s what being a leader looks like."
Natasha moved in next, one arm wrapping around Harry’s shoulders. “I’m proud of you,” she said, her voice low but sincere. “You didn’t let the pressure define you. You stayed in control.”
Harry leaned into the embrace, his voice soft. “Thanks, Mum.”
Thor clapped Harry so hard on the back that he staggered forward a step. "You swam like the Midgardian seal-sharks of Vanaheim! A mighty feat!"
Harry chuckled. “That sounds terrifying.”
“You are terrifying,” Natasha said, brushing his wet hair from his forehead with a smile.
Regulus, Lyall, and Pietro ran up from the hill, practically vibrating with energy.
"That was so cool!" Pietro shouted. "You flipped that merguy like—like a magical ninja!"
Lyall added, “Dad said you didn't even flinch when they tried to swarm you. That's so alpha.”
“Alpha?” Harry blinked.
Regulus nodded. “They’ve been watching animal documentaries with Remus and dad again.”
"Fair enough," Harry said with a tired smile.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, Harry stood surrounded by friends, family, and Avengers—no chaos magic, no crisis, just quiet, earned praise.
The atmosphere was frigid inside the makeshift meeting chamber outside the lake. Fleur was drying off with a conjured towel, her face pale and tight with fury. But it wasn’t Fleur who spoke first—it was Madame Maxime.
She stormed into the room with her cloak billowing behind her, her eyes blazing as they locked onto the tournament judges.
“What kind of barbaric display was that?” she shouted, her French accent thick with righteous anger. “One of those creatures nearly tore off Fleur’s leg!”
Karkaroff muttered something about overreaction, but Maxime ignored him entirely, focusing instead on Dumbledore.
“You said ze merpeople would play along,” she hissed, looming over the seated headmaster. “You said it would be safe! That their hostility would be controlled!”
Dumbledore, still fatigued from his battle days earlier and the lingering effects of Karl’s dark magic, raised his hands calmly. “Madame Maxime, I understand your concern, but—”
“You understand nothing,” she snapped, cutting him off. “You allowed this farce to continue while one of my students nearly drowned because a creature tried to drag her into the depths! If Harry Potter hadn’t interfered—yes, your student—she may not have escaped.”
Fleur nodded, jaw clenched. “They were not pretending, monsieur,” she added coldly. “They attacked. They enjoyed it.”
Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as his father, sat near the back of the room, stiff and silent. But his eyes glinted with cruel amusement as he watched Dumbledore take the verbal lashing.
“Madame Maxime,” Crouch said in his rasping tone, trying to inject a note of bureaucratic calm, “we were assured by the merfolk that the champions would not be harmed. This must have been a misunderstanding—”
“Misunderstanding?” Maxime thundered. "We had every precautions in place but it appears the deal you made with the merfolk was a lie!”
She turned on her heel and stormed toward Fleur, her protective arm wrapping around the girl’s shoulders as she glared back at the council.
“I am watching. One more stunt like this, and Beauxbatons will withdraw.”
Dumbledore said nothing, brow furrowed, eyes shadowed.
Crouch Jr. sat silently, biting down a smirk as he folded his hands over his lap.Let the chaos crack further, he thought. The more they fracture, the easier it will be for the Dark Lord to return.
The scent of lavender and fire still clung to the air as the meeting with the judges dispersed. Madam Maxime stood tall outside the great Beauxbatons carriage, her expression unreadable as she watched the remaining council members vanish into the shadows of Hogwarts.
“Doctor Strange,” she called out, her voice smooth and commanding.
Strange, who had just closed a small portal beside him, turned at the sound. “Madam Maxime.”
She stepped closer, arms crossed, towering over most wizards but not at all trying to use it to intimidate him—just establishing her presence. “I will speak plainly. I am not entirely reassured after that meeting.”
Strange offered her a small nod, already expecting this. “Understandable. The second task had all the precautions I could think of but I failed to consider the merfolk violating the agreement.”
Maxime studied him a moment longer, then said firmly, “Will you be watching the final task more closely?”
“I will,” Strange replied. “I’m increasing security. I’ll have sorcerers positioned all throughout the maze—above, within, and around. No one will get in or out without me knowing. And if anything tries to interfere with the champions, we’ll stop it instantly.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Even if it means stepping over your Headmaster?”
Strange didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Even if Dumbledore disapproves. The safety of the students comes first.”
There was a pause between them—thick, but not hostile. Maxime inclined her head at last. “Good.”
She turned, but before entering the carriage, she added without looking back, “For what it’s worth… I trust you more than most of them.”
Strange gave a quiet, knowing smile. “That makes two of us.”
The Great Hall buzzed with whispers and rustling newspapers as students eagerly passed around the latest issues. Harry and Hermione made their way cautiously toward Gryffindor table, feeling eyes glued to them from every direction.
"I suppose your interview with Luna came out," Hermione said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Harry sighed, cheeks pink. "She promised it would be accurate. That doesn't mean everyone else followed her example."
They settled next to Neville, Susan, and Blaise, who immediately handed them copies of Luna’s paper, The Quibbler, with a bright front page reading:
"Exclusive: Harry Potter's True Thoughts on the Triwizard Tournament!"
"Looks like Luna kept her word," Neville said approvingly. "It's actually pretty good."
Harry skimmed quickly, nodding in relief. "At least this one’s accurate."
Susan grinned knowingly. "Don't get too comfortable. Rita Skeeter wrote about you as well."
Hermione groaned, snatching the Daily Prophet out of Blaise’s hand. The headline screamed:
"Love Triangle at Hogwarts? Potter Torn Between Fleur Delacour and Hermione Granger!"
Harry nearly choked on his toast. "You've got to be kidding me."
Hermione narrowed her eyes as she read aloud. "'After Harry Potter's heroic rescue of Fleur Delacour in the second task, Hogwarts is buzzing about romance blossoming beneath the waters. Sources indicate Potter’s long-term relationship with Hermione Granger may be threatened by the French champion's undeniable charm.'"
Harry looked at her, bewildered. "They can't be serious."
Hermione folded the paper irritably, setting it aside. "This is ridiculous. Everyone knows we're together."
Across the hall, Fleur caught their gaze, shaking her head apologetically and rolling her eyes dramatically. She clearly found the situation as absurd as they did.
"They're desperate for drama," Neville muttered. "Ignore them."
Harry nodded, taking Hermione's hand firmly in his own. "I'm with Hermione, and everyone who matters already knows that."
She squeezed his hand, offering a reassuring smile. "Exactly."
Blaise laughed. "Well, at least Luna got it right. Too bad her paper isn't as popular."
Susan smirked. "It might be after today."
At the far end of the hall, Rita Skeeter watched with narrowed eyes in her beetle form.
"This isn't over yet, Potter," she whispered, her lips curling into a nasty smile. "I'll find something."
Fleur walked over with a hesitant look on her face. She spotted Harry and Hermione sitting at their table, their conversation flowing easily. She took a deep breath before walking over to them.
"Harry, Hermione," Fleur began, her French accent still as prominent as ever, though her voice was softer than usual. "I need to apologize for... well, for what happened earlier."
Harry looked up, surprised by her sudden apology. Hermione, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow but said nothing, curious to hear what Fleur had to say.
"Harry," Fleur continued, turning to him, "I was rude to you, calling you a little boy. That was uncalled for. You're much more than that, and I was wrong. I’ve seen what you’re capable of, and... I’m sorry."
Harry smiled, his expression warm. "It's alright, Fleur. No harm done. I understand." He shrugged, letting her off the hook. "We all have our moments."
Fleur nodded gratefully, then turned to Hermione. "And to you, Hermione, I also owe an apology. For the kiss I gave Harry, I shouldn’t have done that. I hope you understand it wasn’t meant to cause any issues between you."
Hermione blinked, a little taken aback by the directness of Fleur’s words. But after a moment, she softened and gave a small smile. "It’s fine, Fleur. We all get caught up in things sometimes. I wasn’t upset about it. Just... don’t do it again," she said with a teasing tone, her eyes sparkling.
Fleur laughed, relieved by Hermione’s response. "I promise, no more kissing Harry," she said with a wink. "But I hope we can start over. I would like to be friends, if you’d both have me."
Hermione chuckled and nodded. "I think we can manage that."
Harry gave a small smile, clearly glad to see them both coming to an understanding. "I think it sounds like a good idea."
The three of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment before the conversation naturally turned to lighter topics. As they spoke, the tension from before melted away, and a budding friendship began to form between Fleur, Harry, and Hermione.
But one person in particular couldn't stop himself from teasing Harry later that day.
Sirius leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced at Harry. “So, Harry,” he began with a teasing tone, “Fleur’s quite the sight, isn’t she? Bet you’re glad to be sharing the competition with her.”
Harry groaned, trying to ignore his godfather’s antics. “Can we not talk about Fleur?” he muttered, shifting in his seat beside Hermione, who looked equally uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.
Sirius laughed, nudging Harry with his elbow. “Oh, come on, Harry. I have to tease. But I get it, Hermione’s your girl, right?” He shot Hermione a wink, clearly enjoying watching the couple squirm.
Hermione's cheeks reddened, but she quickly gave Harry a look. "Of course." he confirmed, earning a proud smile from his girlfriend.
Sirius raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. “Good to hear, Harry. I’m proud of you for doing the right thing. You saved Fleur. That’s the kind of hero you are."
Before Harry could respond, Regulus, who had been listening quietly from the corner, stood up with a grin. “Well, if Harry isn’t interested, I’ll go out with Fleur,” he announced, earning a collective groan from the room.
Natasha, who had been calmly sipping her tea, whipped around at the mention of Fleur’s name, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Regulus Black, don’t you dare,” she said firmly, crossing the room and slapping the back of his head gently. “Fleur is far too old for an eleven-year-old, and don’t you forget it.”
Regulus rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, muttering, “Alright, alright, no need to hit me."
Lyall and Pietro, who had been engaged in their own heated debate nearby, suddenly chimed in, looking equally animated. “Fleur would totally pick me. I’m a lot cooler,” Lyall argued.
“Ha, in your dreams,” Pietro shot back, clearly convinced that he was the one she would pick. “She’d never go for you, Lyall. I’m way faster than you, and I’m pretty charming, too.”
"Talking faster isn't a skill." Lyall argued.
Wanda, who had been quietly watching the exchange, sighed and shook her head. “You two are eleven. Fleur’s not even going to be interested in either of you. Save your arguments for later when you’re older.”
The boys looked at each other, deflated but still not entirely convinced. Harry, shaking his head, muttered under his breath, “Can’t believe I’m hearing this…”
Sirius just smirked, leaning back in his chair. “It’s all part of growing up, Harry. You’re gonna hear a lot more of this from now on."
After all the excitement Harry decided to let off some steam as they say. So to the Room of Requirement.
He and Hermione stood across from each other, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows over the worn wooden floor. Hermione clutched her wand, excitement gleaming in her eyes as she turned to Harry.
"I've been studying Strange’s tomes—every single one I could get my hands on in the Sanctum," she said, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "Obviously, I can’t use Chaos Magic or his dimensional spells, but I think I’ve come up with something close. At least, as close as I can without it ripping a hole in space-time. Or dying."
Harry smirked. "That’s always a good thing."
Hermione huffed but didn't deny it. Instead, she raised her wand, the tip glowing faintly. "It’s a defensive spell, but not just a shield. If it works right, it should act like a counter-force—redirecting an attack’s energy instead of just absorbing it."
Harry folded his arms. "Alright, let’s see it."
Hermione inhaled, focused, and flicked her wand in a precise, almost circular motion. "Reducto!"
A bolt of red light shot toward her. She twisted her wrist and cast, "Refugium!" A shimmering, translucent barrier of silver light flared up in front of her. The instant Harry’s spell struck it, the energy swirled along the shield’s surface, coiling like a snake before launching backward—straight at the nearest training dummy. The dummy exploded into splinters.
Harry let out a low whistle. "Alright, that was impressive."
Hermione grinned but still looked critically at where the spell had been. "It’s not perfect. The stronger the spell it counters, the harder it is to control the redirection. If I don’t time it right, it could—well—go anywhere."
Harry nodded. "Still, that’s incredible. You basically made a magical version of Strange’s counter-spells."
"I wouldn’t go that far," she said, though her cheeks flushed. "But if we’re going to be dealing with things beyond standard magic, we need something to keep up."
Harry tilted his head. "Have you shown Doc yet?"
"Not yet. I wanted to show you first." She gave him a small smile. "You’re the reason I even thought to try."
Harry felt warmth spread through his chest. He reached out, squeezing her hand briefly. "Then let’s keep working on it. Together."
Hermione nodded, determination gleaming in her eyes.
"Hey!" Neville and Luna came in. "Dual time." He grinned.
Harry looked at Hermione who nodded. "Bring it."
The Room had shifted into a grand dueling chamber, its floor polished and wide, with magical lanterns floating above casting warm golden light. Soft mats lined the floor for safety, and protective wards shimmered faintly in the air. It was the perfect space for sparring—created by intention, powered by magic.
Harry grinned as Hermione stood at his side, her shield at the ready and wand loose in her grip. Across from them, Neville twirled his wand and cracked his neck, his enchanted axe in hand but not full size yet. Luna stood next to him, dreamy as ever, her wand lazily spinning between her fingers.
"You sure you two are ready for this?" Neville teased with a smirk.
Harry grinned. "You’re the one who wanted to test out your fancy axe-into-necklace trick. Just don’t cry when Hermione stuns you."
Hermione shot him a playful glare. “Stunning Neville isn’t the plan—unless he swings that thing at me.”
Neville winked. “No promises.”
Luna tilted her head, smiling softly. “I hope no one gets too singed. The Wrackspurts do love magical sparks.”
Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry. “Ready?”
“Always.”
“Begin!” the Room announced with a clear chime.
Neville immediately summoned his axe into full size, swinging it in a wide arc to clear space. Harry was already moving, dodging left while casting a rapid Expelliarmus that Neville parried with a rotating barrier charm.
Hermione darted right, her shield glowing as she blocked a volley of shimmering blue butterflies that Luna had summoned. They exploded with small bursts of light, forcing Hermione to shield her eyes.
“Nice one,” Hermione called.
Luna’s smile didn’t waver. “Thank you. They’re very polite explosions.”
Harry and Neville clashed in the center of the room—Harry’s chaos magic subtly twisting his spells into unpredictable patterns. Neville matched him with strength and precision, his axe deflecting a blast of energy before slamming into the ground, sending out a shockwave.
Hermione leapt in front of Harry, her shield absorbing the quake as she rolled and fired a series of rapid-fire spells at Luna, who twirled away gracefully.
“You’ve improved,” Hermione noted mid-duel.
Luna smiled sweetly. “So have you.”
A sudden shimmer of red and black energy surged as Harry charged Neville, pushing him back with a barrage of spells that twisted around each other. Neville held his ground, grinning.
“You’re holding back, Potter.”
“Am I?” Harry grinned, flicking his finger. The floor under Neville shimmered—then vanished.
Neville yelped as he dropped through the illusion. He landed with a grunt on a cushion conjured beneath. "Okay! That was clever!"
Hermione faced Luna again—this time without her shield. Luna’s spell whipped forward like a ribbon, wrapping around Hermione’s wand, trying to disarm her.
Hermione, unfazed, snapped her wrist and pulled the ribbon into a spiral, twisting the energy into a knot. “You really shouldn’t duel someone who reads magical theory for fun.”
Luna shrugged. “But it’s more fun this way.”
Before another spell could fly, the Room gave a second chime. “Duel complete.”
The air calmed instantly.
Neville dusted himself off as he climbed out of the illusionary pit. “Okay, I want a rematch. That was unfair wizard trickery.”
Harry smirked. “You literally had an axe.”
"You have impossible magic."
"Semantics." Harry shrugged.
Hermione handed Luna her wand back. “Good duel.”
Luna nodded, serene as ever. “I liked the part where your shield sparkled like stardust. It was very you.”
The four friends laughed as they exited the room, the magic around them fading into peaceful stillness.