Harry woke up early that morning, feeling a faint prickle from his scar—a subtle reminder of unpleasant memories he wished to avoid. As he made his way down to the Gryffindor common room, he was greeted by a lively atmosphere bursting with excitement, which felt overwhelming to him.
Students were bustling about, some already donning vibrant clothing adorned with faces and emblems. A group of second-year girls let out squeals while displaying their shiny badges featuring Cedric Diggory's smiling face, which glowed with the words "Support the Hogwarts Champion!"
Across the room, Harry spotted two boys clad in bright blue shirts emblazoned with Fleur Delacour's image, the shirts enchanted to make her hair appear to flow gracefully. Other boys wore hoodies showing Viktor Krum's stern face on their backs, his expression frozen as if perpetually glaring at anyone behind them.
In one corner, he noticed Fred and George Weasley surrounded by a small crowd, with parchment lists spread out on the table, galleons clinking as they took bets.
"Three-to-one odds on Krum," Fred shouted over the noise.
"Two-to-one on Diggory! C'mon, he's the local hero!" George added cheerfully.
Harry couldn't help shaking his head, partly amused and partly annoyed. Only Fred and George could turn life-threatening tasks into a money-making venture.
"Harry!"
Neville Longbottom bounded over, grinning broadly. He was wearing a new bright red hoodie with Viktor Krum's face on the back and a shimmering Triwizard Cup on the front.
"Look!" Neville turned proudly to show off the enchanted design. "It even moves! Krum frowns when someone boos him!"
Harry raised an eyebrow, "And you're cheering for Krum, why?"
Neville shrugged, still beaming. "He's the best! Everyone knows he's the strongest wizard in the tournament. You've never seen anyone fly like him."
Harry let out a slight chuckle. "Just don't let Cedric hear you say that. Hufflepuff might hex you."
Neville laughed nervously but fidgeted, glancing away whenever Harry caught his gaze. There was admiration there, but also a hint of fear.
Even Neville is still a little wary of me, Harry reflected, though it didn't sting as much as it would have a few months prior. He had become accustomed to such cautious reactions.
The two friends headed down for breakfast, where the Great Hall was filled with the same buzz as the common room—students shouting, waving banners, and practicing chants. Harry tuned most of it out and focused on his food.
Later, while they were in the library, Neville tried to steer the conversation toward lighter topics, but Harry noticed one conspicuous absence.
"Have you seen Hermione today?" he asked, feigning interest in a book he wasn't really focused on.
Neville shook his head. "Not since last night. She wasn't even in the Great Hall."
Harry frowned. Hermione never skips breakfast. If there's a task today, she'd be the first to drag me to the library to find some obscure information.
Eventually, Neville approached Lavender Brown, who was giggling with Parvati Patil near the Charms section.
"Lavender," Neville asked, "do you know where Hermione is?"
Lavender smirked knowingly. "Professor McGonagall took her from the dormitory this morning. Said it was important."
Harry and Neville exchanged worried glances. Lavender smirked again, adding, "Maybe she's helping Cedric. Or maybe Krum." She giggled before turning back to Parvati.
Harry ignored her taunt, but unease settled in his chest.
As the morning transitioned into afternoon, Harry decided to investigate further.
"Let's go," he said to Neville, getting up from his seat. "Someone mentioned McGonagall was by the Great Lake. Let's check it out."
Neville adjusted his hoodie nervously. "Do you think… Professor McGonagall took her to help with the task? Like… as a volunteer?"
Harry narrowed his eyes, feeling a sense of foreboding stirring within him. Something felt off.
As they approached the Great Lake, the chill wind bit at their cheeks. From a distance, they could see groups of witches and wizards in deep plum robes working busily, raising a large wooden platform by the lakeshore with enchantments. The wood floated into place with a series of heavy thuds.
Dozens of chairs were being set in neat rows, their backs adorned with silver sigils of the Triwizard Tournament. Ministry officials stood nearby with clipboards, directing the workers with hurried authority. The air was filled with the scents of lake water and damp earth, mixed with the distinct energy of magic.
A small crowd of curious students had gathered farther back, their eyes shining with anticipation as they clutched their enchanted badges and wore their champion-themed attire.
Harry scanned the platform until he spotted Professor McGonagall, tall and commanding as usual, her tartan cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was conversing quietly with a stern-faced wizard Harry didn't recognize, arms folded across her chest.
"Professor McGonagall," Harry called, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.
McGonagall turned sharply, her keen gaze landing on him, almost as though she'd been expecting him.
"Yes, Potter?" she replied briskly.
Harry hesitated briefly. "I've been looking for Hermione all morning. No one has seen her. Do you know where she is?"
Neville shifted awkwardly beside him, backing Harry's concern with a nod.
McGonagall's expression softened a fraction but remained serious. "Miss Granger is safe, Potter. She's… involved in today's task. You needn't worry."
Harry's brow furrowed. "Involved? How exactly?"
"That's all I can share, Potter," McGonagall said firmly, her lips thinning into a tight line. "The tournament rules require confidentiality. But rest assured, she is perfectly safe. Everything is arranged."
Harry stared at her, sensing an unsettling feeling in his gut. Safe? Involved? Those words didn't sound reassuring.
Nonetheless, McGonagall's tone made it clear that further questions would not be welcomed.
Neville, picking up on the tension, cleared his throat. "Th-thank you, Professor." He gently tugged at Harry's sleeve, trying to lead him away.
McGonagall returned to her discussion with the officials, her posture stiff. Harry caught a flicker of unease on her face before she turned away—a rare crack in her usually composed demeanor.
Returning to the gathering of students, the sounds of hammering spells echoed behind them.
"She's part of the task?" Neville whispered, a frown creasing his forehead. "What does that even mean?"
Harry shook his head, his jaw tightening. "I don't know. But it doesn't sit right with me."
He clenched his fists in his pockets, the Force humming faintly within him. McGonagall's words echoed in his mind: Hermione is safe. She's part of the task.
Safe.
Harry didn't buy it for a second.
They approached Hagrid's hut, the earthy scent of smoke and damp ground permeating the air. Fang barked lazily as they arrived. Inside, Hagrid was bent over a large wooden table, fixing one of his massive crossbows.
"Hullo, Harry! Hullo, Neville!" he greeted with a broad grin. "Come in, come in. Tea's nearly ready."
As Harry warmed his hands by the fire, he decided Hagrid was one of the few who would listen without judgment. He quietly recounted the incident with Rita Skeeter.
"I swear, Hagrid, it was an accident. I didn't know she was an Animagus; I thought she was just a beetle."
Hagrid's eyes widened but softened as he responded. "Don't worry, Harry. That Skeeter woman is no good. She's written all kinds of nasty stuff about me. If anyone deserves a good stomping, it's her. I don't blame you at all."
Neville visibly relaxed at Hagrid's words, sipping his tea timidly, allowing Harry a rare moment of comfort.
After finishing their tea, the three of them—including Hagrid—headed back toward the Great Lake.
When they arrived, the crowd was astounding. Almost half of Hogwarts had gathered by the lake, voices buzzing with excitement. The cold moisture from the water swirled in the air, mingling with the warmth of the throngs of students.
Wooden benches were arranged in arcs, forming an improvised stadium as students rushed to secure front-row seats, waving banners enchanted with their favorite champions' names. "GO CEDRIC!" shone in gold and black, Fleur's name glimmered in elegant silver script, and Viktor's face appeared on countless hoodies and flags, his stern expression looking heroic.
Fred and George Weasley were in the midst of the chaos, darting among groups with bags of coins clinking. "Best odds on Krum, three to one!" George called. "Bet while you can!"
"Cedric's your guy, don't let Hogwarts down!" Fred chimed in, hastily scribbling on scraps of parchment.
Harry sighed as he and Neville settled into seats toward the back.
Neville fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie, "Do you think we'll see anything from back here?"
Harry leaned back, surveying the dark waters before them. "I don't know," he confessed. "If all we do is stare at the lake, this will be the dullest task ever."
Neville chuckled nervously, shifting in his seat. "With our luck, Harry, something will explode."
Harry smirked, yet his gaze remained fixed on the water. Deep down, he sensed that Neville might not be wrong.
As excitement built within the crowd, the headmasters of the three schools arrived, clad in flowing robes with serious expressions. Ministry officials in gold-braided cloaks accompanied them, followed by a swarm of reporters scribbling furiously with their enchanted quills. Camera flashes lit up the scene, illuminating the platform rising at the water's edge.
Professor Dumbledore, with his commanding presence, raised his hand for silence, and the murmurs quieted, replaced by eager anticipation.
"Today," Dumbledore began, his voice resonating across the crowd, "our champions will be tested on their courage, wit, and endurance. An item has been taken from each of them—something they deeply miss. They must descend into the depths of this lake to retrieve it within the allotted time. Should they fail…" He paused, sweeping his piercing blue gaze over the gathered students, "…their treasure will be lost forever."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Students exchanged anxious glances; some leaned forward, intrigued.
Harry's stomach sank. That's why Hermione is missing…
His fists tightened at his sides as his eyes darted to the Ravenclaw section. Cho Chang's friends huddled close, whispering nervously, but Cho herself was absent.
"It's them," Harry muttered, his voice shaking with anger and fear.
Neville leaned in closer. "What do you mean?"
Harry's jaw clenched. "The ones who are gone—Hermione and Cho—they're the treasures. Hostages. Hermione is who Viktor is supposed to save."
Neville's face turned pale. He swallowed hard, whispering, "They're really using students as prizes?"
Harry nodded grimly, his expression darkening. "This is madness. What if something happens to her?"
The dark side whispered temptations in his mind, tugging at his heart with cruel promises. He struggled to maintain control, taking deep breaths to stave off the impulse to charge toward the lake and rescue Hermione himself.
The champions lined up on the platform at the lake's edge, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and determination. Fleur Delacour adjusted her robes, her silver-blonde hair shining in the winter sunlight. Viktor Krum tensed his frame, cracking his knuckles, while Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts' representative, looked proud yet nervous, glancing at the cheering Hufflepuff supporters chanting his name.
A large golden hourglass sat beside the judges, ready to countdown every second.
"Champions, take your marks," Dumbledore commanded.
The crowd fell silent.
The timer began.
Immediately, Viktor raised his wand, his lips curling as he cast a spell. His face contorted grotesquely, his jaw lengthened, and half his body morphed into that of a shark. Gasps of astonishment and horror surged through the audience.
Cedric, poised and deliberate, performed a bubblehead charm, creating an airtight shimmering bubble around his head, allowing him to breathe underwater. He took a cautious breath and nodded, satisfied.
Fleur, elegant and composed, drew intricate shapes with her wand, uttering unfamiliar incantations. Magic crackled around her, radiating raw power.
Without further hesitation, the champions dove into the deep waters of the Great Lake.
The surface churned violently, engulfing them completely. The stands erupted with cheers and applause as banners waved high.
But Harry didn't join in the celebration. His blood simmered with each moment that passed. His gaze fixated on the spot where Viktor had plunged. He knew Hermione was down there—bound, enchanted, and vulnerable. The thought twisted painfully inside him.
Neville glanced at Harry, concern in his expression. "Are you alright?"
Harry shook his head. His voice, low and intense, replied, "No, Neville. I'm not okay. They're putting her life in jeopardy. She's my best friend. If anything happens to her…" A dangerous energy flickered within him, the Force stirring, "…there won't be a lake left."
Neville shivered at Harry's tone, fully aware of his resolve.
Harry forced himself to remain still, tension flooding his body. Control yourself, he mentally reminded himself. Hermione is strong. She'll be fine. They'll all come back.
In his heart, however, he knew that if anything went wrong, nothing in the entire magical realm could stop him from tearing the lake apart.