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Harry stood in the silent corridor for a moment, then shook his head and made his way toward the Room of Requirement. When he reached the seventh floor, he stopped in front of the blank stretch of wall, picturing exactly what he needed. A large bath, deep enough to submerge himself entirely, with steaming water to loosen his muscles. The Room of Requirement responded instantly, a door appearing where there had been none. Harry stepped inside.
The room had transformed into something resembling the prefects' bathroom, though with a few adjustments. The massive, bubbling pool of water took up most of the space, steam rising in gentle waves.
Harry stepped into the warm water, letting the heat ease the tension in his muscles. The Yule Ball had been an endless cycle of dancing, and the girls had made sure he never got a moment's rest. At least the bath would help with that.
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out both golden eggs—the ones from the first task. His name had come out of the Goblet twice, and he had two eggs to show for it. While he already knew what the second task was, he wanted to be sure. If the tournament was treating him like two separate champions, there was a chance the second task might be different for each.
He set one egg on the edge of the bath and held the other just above the water. With a sharp twist, he popped it open.
A terrible, high-pitched wail filled the room. Harry had expected it, but it still wasn't pleasant. He dunked the egg under the water immediately, and the sound shifted, morphing into something clearer. A haunting melody echoed through the bath, the words distinct now.
"Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground.
And while you're searching, ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss.
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took.
But past an hour—the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
Harry let the egg float as he listened. He already knew the task involved the lake and retrieving something—or rather, someone—stolen from him. This was just confirmation.
He lifted the egg from the water, cutting off the song, and reached for the second. Just to be sure, he cracked open the second egg and repeated the process.
The song was identical.
Harry leaned back against the edge of the bath, eyes on the swirling steam above him. Good. That meant he wasn't going to be thrown into something unexpected just because the Goblet had glitched. The second task was the same, and he wouldn't have to worry about two different objectives.
He shut the egg and set it aside with the first. That was enough confirmation. Now, he just had to figure out who they were planning to take from him.
And how they expected him to breathe underwater for an hour.
He already had ideas—Bubble-Head Charm, Gillyweed, maybe even something enchanted.
Harry chuckled, leaning back against the edge of the bath. "I can have so much fun with this. Should I transfigure myself or just split the lake in two and take whoever they put down there?" He laughed, the thought alone amusing. "Oh boy, it'll be weird with the merpeople. Wonder if they'll dare to stop me from taking my people."
The lake was massive, dark, and freezing, filled with creatures that wouldn't hesitate to take a bite if given the chance. The merpeople, while organized, weren't exactly the friendliest bunch unless you gave them a reason to be. He wasn't worried about them stopping him outright, but if they thought they had the authority to get in his way… well, he was curious to see if they'd even try.
He smirked, picturing the underwater village hidden beneath the Black Lake. Last time he visited, the merpeople had been more than welcoming. This task would be interesting.
He tapped his fingers against the side of the bath. "Bubble-Head Charm would be the easiest, but Gillyweed has its advantages. Fins, gills, faster movement—no need to focus on maintaining a spell. Downside is, it doesn't last long, and I would have to rely on something external." He tilted his head, thinking. "Though, if I can modify it… maybe extend the effect or combine it with something else…"
There were plenty of options. Perhaps transfiguration. He could turn himself into something better suited for underwater movement, but that carried its own risks. Temporary partial transformations weren't out of the question if done incorrectly, and he wasn't keen on accidentally giving himself gills that wouldn't go away.
Then again… the simplest method was always just breaking the game.
His smirk widened. If he transfigured the water to create a massive air pocket at the bottom of the lake, he wouldn't need to breathe underwater at all. Or better yet, he could just part the lake entirely and walk straight to whoever they had taken. That'd be a sight—just casually strolling along the lakebed while everyone else struggled to swim.
It was tempting. Too tempting. "Guess I'll decide later. I'll have to see who they're planning to take before I bother with a solution."
He pushed himself up from the bath. His body had relaxed enough, the exhaustion from the night's endless dancing fading. Wrapping a towel around himself, he stepped out and let the Room of Requirement reshape itself into a more standard setup—clothes, a mirror, a place to sit. He dressed quickly, drying his hair with a quick spell before making his way toward the door.
Harry spent some time working on Rowena's rune language, reviewing the intricate symbols and testing a few theoretical applications. The more he studied, the clearer it became that Rowena Ravenclaw's work was far ahead of its time—layers of meaning hidden within deceptively simple designs. Satisfied with his progress for the night, he packed up his materials and left for the Slytherin dorms.
Once inside his room, he locked the door and cast a few privacy charms before pulling out a small glass jar from his pocket. A single beetle scurried inside, its tiny legs scraping against the smooth surface. Harry placed it on the desk and tapped the glass with a finger.
"Ms. Skeeter," he said, tone flat. "Have I not made myself clear before?"
The beetle froze.
Harry leaned back against his chair, arms crossed. "I told you last time—if you came near me or my friends again, I would crush you like the insect you are. And yet, there you were, hovering around Hagrid and Madame Maxime." His eyes flicked to the jar. "So, what exactly were you trying to hear?"
The beetle didn't move. Harry gave the glass a sharp tap, making it rattle against the desk.
"I'm not going to ask twice."
The beetle buzzed furiously inside the jar, its tiny legs scratching against the glass as if throwing a tantrum. Harry watched it with mild amusement, flicking the jar once with his finger to make it rattle.
"Well, that's a nice little tune," he said. "Go on, keep singing. I'll decide what to do with you in the morning."
The beetle froze. Harry smirked. He wasn't expecting an actual response, but he knew Rita Skeeter well enough to be sure she was panicking.
He set the jar down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out. He could crush her now—literally and figuratively—but there was no need to rush. Letting her stew in her own paranoia for a night sounded more fun.
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