They Shook Hands: Year Four (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Four

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Nineteen - The Egg

Halfway through January was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, on the weekend of the full moon. Harry was a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be able to see Moony. He hadn't seen his old professor since before school had started. If it wasn't one thing, it was another keeping them apart.

Hopefully godfather and -son would be able to work out the clue of the egg. Harry hadn't thought about it at all, except when he was all by himself in his bed with the quiet of the night his only company. He wrestled with what course he should take. He was stumped on the shrieking egg, but he didn't want to ask Percy again. He'd taken enough of a risk to tell Harry about the dragons. He needed to find another way this time. Professor Snape would tell him if he knew, but there had to be a way to figure out the clue on his own.

Harry bathed quickly that Saturday morning and dressed warmly. He tucked the egg in to his bag. He slid the strap over his head and pulled his cloak on tightly. He tucked his gloves in his pockets and hurried up to breakfast. He didn't linger to wait for the others. Citing his meeting with Sirius, he exited the front gate and took it in a brisk walk to the edge of the castle grounds. The gates opened at his approach, and he made a bee line for the Hog's Head Pub.

Sirius was waiting for Harry at a secluded table. He appeared to still be eating his breakfast. He mopped at his plate with several pieces of toast and washed them down with deep draughts of tea.

"Take a seat, Harry. Do you want anything?"

"No, I just ate. Sorry I'm early."

"Nothing to apologize for. I'm glad to see you." Though they talked nearly every night through the mirror, Sirius sounded relieved to see that Harry was whole and hearty. It was as though he believed dire things were happening the instant Harry was out of his sight. Harry didn't mind, because dire things were happening at Hogwarts this year. Was it really paranoia if someone was actually trying to kill him?

"Did you bring the egg?"

"Right here," Harry said, patting his bag. "We should get away from town, though. It's a mite noisy."

"Let's go, then."

Sirius left a few coins on the table, and they took a walk down the lane towards the Shrieking Shack. It was quiet now, no werewolf inside destroying everything in sight and making the most ungodly sounds.

"Let's go inside."

"We can't get there from here," Sirius said. "Those doors and windows are protected by more than just wooden boards. The magical wards make sure the only ingress is from under the Whomping Willow."

Harry pulled the egg out. "Well, here goes," he said glibly, and twisted the latch.

"Turn it off!" Sirius shouted a second later. He clutched both hands to the sides of his head in agony.

Harry slammed the shell back together and closed the latch. The echoes of the noise rang off the distant mountains, even despite the muffling effect of the trees.

"That is amazingly unpleasant." Sirius had a vast talent for stating the obvious.

"Now do you see why I couldn't describe it through the mirror?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what it is?"

"Not a clue. I've never heard anything like that before. I could do without hearing it ever again. I wonder if Moony knows what it is. He sends his regrets, by the way. He's thinking positive thoughts for you."

"I can use all the well-wishes I can get."

"I'll devote every hour to it. We'll crack this egg."

Harry groaned. "It's too early for puns."

"So are you ready for your next lesson?"

Harry perked up. "Absolutely."

"In the meditative state, your mind will drift. You will make contact with the animal inside. You will have a vision, seeing through its eyes. I will actually see the change. You will become your animal."

"Superb," Harry declared. "Let's get started, then."

The meditation went rather well. Snow kept drifting down the back of his neck, and cracking icicles falling from the trees jangled in his ears. At least he wasn't cold or wet. The Self-Warming Charm let him ignore the worst of the cold wind, and a magical barrier Sirius cast kept the snow from melting as they sat in a large drift. Harry did his best to find the animal in his soul, and a few times he thought he might have had a flash of alien perception. They endured the elements for several hours before Sirius declared it was time to seek a hot fire and a warm taproom. The atmosphere at the Three Broomsticks was jovial. They were just in time for lunch, and Harry gobbled down two bowls of the most delicious soup he'd ever had.

Many other students were frequenting the establishment, and Harry exchanged greetings with loads of his fellow Slytherins, as well as his friends from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. He would have greeted his friends from Gryffindor, but he didn't really have any. The closest would be Parvati Patil, but he figured her as more of an acquaintance. She was dating Draco, but they didn't spend a lot of time mingling; Pansy and Parvati shared a mutual dislike.

Harry recognized more people than just students. Ludo Bagman was sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast in a low voice. It didn't look as though his appeasements were well-received. All of the goblins had their arms crossed and were looking rather menacing.

It was indeed odd, Harry thought, that Bagman was here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no judging to be done. He watched Bagman critically. He was looking strained. Then he caught sight of Harry, and the relief was plain on his face.

"In a moment, in a moment!" Harry heard him say brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried through the pub toward Harry, his boyish grin back in place.

"Harry!" he said. "How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?"

"Fine, thanks," said Harry. "Yourself?"

"Good, good."

Bagman glanced into the mirror over the bar at the goblins, who were all watching him in silence through their dark, slanting eyes.

"Absolute nightmare," said Bagman to Harry in an undertone, noticing Harry watching the goblins too. "Their English isn't too good. It's like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup, but at least they used sign language another human could recognize. This lot keep gabbling in Gobbledegook, and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. Bladvak. It means 'pickax.' I don't like to use it in case they think I'm threatening them."

He gave a short, booming laugh.

"Never thought I'd say it, but I really need old Barty for this sort of discussion. Him resigning like he did sent shockwaves through the whole Ministry. He was an icon, a symbol, to many. There was once talk he might be Minister someday, you know."

"So what happened?" Harry didn't know this gossip, and a little inside dirt never hurt anybody. Plus he'd have something to share with Pansy later on.

"Well, it's a terrible tragedy, to be sure. All a matter of public record, but distasteful in the extreme."

"And better off to not flabble about it in a noisy pub. Why are you mucking about with goblins, Bagman?" Sirius asked sharply. "Particularly the sort that don't speak good English?"

Bagman turned deathly pale. "Great Scot, is that the time? Well, I must dash. I've got a meeting with Bertha Jorkins that I've forgotten about. Nice seeing you, Harry. Good luck!"

He hurried out of the pub. The goblins all slid off their chairs and exited after him.

"Why didn't he want to tell me about Mister Crouch?" Harry asked.

"Crouch has a pretty colourful story. He works in Magial Cooperation now, but he used to be Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He had a healthy amount of ambition too. He wanted to be Minister someday. Very outspoken against the Dark Side. He was a very strong wizard, and taking a tough stand against Voldemort made him a hero to many. It was a bad time. Every week there were more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing. Voldemort was out there somewhere, and you didn't know who was working for him and who wasn't. He wasn't shy about using the Imperius Curse, so there really were innocent people caught up in it all. We couldn't even trust ourselves. The Ministry was falling apart. They didn't know what to do or how to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile it's spilling over in to their world too. Terror everywhere; panic; confusion. That's how it used to be.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance." Sirius's face darkened. "Crouch was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors either. Crouch fought violence with violence and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened."

Enthralled with the story, Harry dared to breathe, "What was that?"

Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban."

"His own son? A Death Eater? Who were they torturing?"

"Frank and Alice Longbottom."

"Longbottom!"

"Yes. They were Aurors, and the Death Eaters were apparently trying to find Voldemort and return him to power. They used the Cruciatus for so long, the Longbottoms went insane."

Harry remembered the way the spider had writhed and thrashed as Professor Moody held it under the curse. The contorted limbs flailed; the shrieks none of them could hear went ignored.

"That's sick," Harry said.

"Voldemort was sick. Twisted. He took pleasure in the pain of others, in exercising absolute control over others. The ones who tortured the Longbottoms were sadists. The act itself was enjoyable to them."

"They got caught though."

"I remember when they brought Crouch Junior in. He got a blasted ovation from all the residents on the solitary block. If he wasn't a Death Eater himself, he sure was caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters: the two Lestranges, and my delightfully insane cousin Bellatrix."

"Draco's aunt."

"The same. Heard about her, have you?"

"Mister Malfoy doesn't really seem to approve of her."

"The list of things Lucius Malfoy doesn't approve of would fill several books."

Harry didn't really feel like getting in to a debate over Mister Malfoy, nor did he really want to dwell on unpleasant topics. Crouch, Jr. and all the Lestranges were locked up in Azkaban and none of his concern.

"Well, no need to worry about them, I suppose," he said. "They're all nice and secure in Azkaban."

"No," said Sirius dully. "No, Crouch is not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He died?"

"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Harry didn't like the way Sirius seemed to be slipping back in to his memories of Azkaban. He looked around for something else to talk about. Good fortune was with him, for someone very pleasant indeed was just stepping through the door.

"Hey, Padma!" Harry called out, waving to her across the tavern. "Over here!"

"Harry! Mister Black!"

"Padma, will you join us?" Sirius invited.

"Sure. I'd love to." Padma shook the snow off of her dark blue cloak and hung it on a hook. She smoothed back her hair, adjusted her white sweater, and sat down. "Hi, Harry," she said, lightly kissing his cheek.

"Hey, Padma."

"I'll just go get another round," Sirius offered, getting to his feet and ambling towards the bar.

"How are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm good. I've been wandering around with Parvati, but she had to go and meet Draco. I still had to get some new quills, so I told her to go ahead. I thought they were coming here."

"Draco left about thirty minutes ago. He was going to meet Parvati, but he didn't say anything about bringing her back here."

"They must be going walking," Padma said knowingly. "She's been waxing poetic about falling snow for several days now."

"They're probably snogging," Harry said cynically. "If he's reading more poetry, she'll get all sorts of silly."

"Oh, naturally. I wouldn't mind a walk in the snow myself."

Harry felt himself getting hot under the collar. Where was Sirius with those butterbeers?

"Here we are," Sirius declared, passing tall mugs all around. Steam rose up, releasing tantalizing scents. "Three mulled butterbeers with all the spices."

"I love this stuff," Harry said, raising his mug in an unspoken toast. "Warm or cold, it goes down like candy."

"It's my favourite. I wish they'd serve it in the Great Hall."

"It's a classic. Hasn't changed in thirty years."

They chatted aimlessly about beverages and sweets for awhile, but Sirius soon got to his feet. "I'm feeling like a third wheel here. I'm sure you want to spend some time with your girlfriend without me cramping your style. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Harry didn't want Sirius to go, but he did want to spend some time with Padma. He reluctantly stood up and hugged his godfather goodbye.

"I'll call tonight," Sirius whispered. "Make sure you've got a story to tell me, eh?"

Harry grinned. "Sure. Bye."

Sirius left the inn.

Harry and Padma were now alone at their booth, and they took advantage of that fact to exchange a few kisses. Harry didn't want to be too exhibitive with the large crowd all around them. It wasn't like it was all people he knew, either, like in the Slytherin common room. Not that he had ever snogged Padma in the common room, but he wouldn't have many qualms about it.

A few booths away, Pansy, Jenna, Millie, and Krum were sitting together. Harry motioned towards them with his head. Padma nodded, and they stood up and maneouvred through the crowd.

"Harry, there you are!" Millie's grin seemed a mile wide. "I was just telling Viktor all about how we played Quodpot at the World Cup."

"Against those Americans?"

"Yeah."

"I haff not played this game before. No Bludgers? An exploding Quaffle? A game of timing and accuracy? It sounds most interesting. Perhaps like the broom race, it could be arranged to play a few rounds of this Quodpot. Most of my classmates are quite able on a broom."

"Nothing like you, though," Harry said. "And nothing like me."

"At last you speak of Quidditch. I had vondered how long it vould take you."

"I didn't want to be vulgar," Harry replied.

"You flew very vell in the first task. I vould like to meet you in the air."

"Perhaps it can be arranged."

Now that the subject had been broached, Harry dove headfirst in to discussion about Quidditch with Krum. At first it was a purely technical conversation, which bored the heck out of the others. Millie changed the subject to the upcoming World Cup and how well Bulgaria would do if they replaced two of their Chasers. Harry mainly knew about British teams. He didn't pay a lot of attention to national teams, and certainly not to anyone not playing for England, Wales, Scotland, or Ireland. None of his friends did, really. Only Millie seemed to know anything, and Harry did his best to stay quiet and only ask intelligent questions when she and Krum started talking about specific players' statistics.

* * *

Several days later, Sirius called on the mirror to say that neither he nor Moony had been able to identify the noise. The rest of the week yielded no further insights, and after an unproductive weekend, Harry faced the coming week with trepidation.

What a miserable Monday. His back ached abominably from being hunched over in double Herbology. He'd also managed to get Gnaridurm Sap inside his dragonhide gloves, and now his fingers were tingling. He'd felt plain beaten up, and Draco had suggested a long, leisurely bath.

"I'd take one myself, but I need to finish up my Potions assignment. See you in the common room later," Draco said as they finished their showers.

Harry sank in to the tepid water with relief. It was almost hot enough to where he couldn't stand it but not quite. He laid back delightedly, feeling the sore muscles unknotting already. This was very close to heaven.

As long as he was going to relax his body, he might as well exercise his mind. Harry set the golden egg on the edge of the tub and laid back with a contented sigh. He felt the tension draining out of his tight muscles. He contemplated the egg through half-closed lashes.

What language was the screaming noise? Banshee? Banshee song killed in seconds. So did Mandrake screams. But baby Mandrakes only stunned you if you heard their cries. Was this a baby Banshee cry? It certainly was repulsive enough. Would he have to deafen himself and fight through a Banshee lair? These questions, like so many others, swirled round and round in his brain. He had no answers that helped. All he had were guesses.

He reached for the egg. He would listen to the awful screaming one more time. He turned the latch and the shell opened. The noise pierced right through his head. There was no pattern, no rhythm to the insanity. Harry swore as the egg slipped from his fingers. It splashed in to the tub, thankfully cutting off the bedlam.

It was too heavy and awkward to handle with his toes, and the tub was too deep to reach. Taking a deep breath, Harry ducked his head under the bubbles.

What he heard startled him so badly he nearly sucked in a mouthful of water. His ears were filled with vibrant, haunting voices singing an ethereal song. Amazed, Harry listened, and a desperate hope filled him.

"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"

Three times Harry had to listen to the song before he had it memorized. He latched the egg and set it back on the edge of the tub. He stepped out and quickly towelled himself off. He wrapped the towel around his waist, thrust his arms in to his dressing gown, and carried the egg back to his dormitory. He sat down at his desk and carefully wrote down every word of the song. He nibbled on the end of his quill in deep thought.

"Obviously it's in the lake," he reasoned. "I'm looking for something, something they've taken. Who are 'they'? I've got to find it in an hour. If I take longer, it'll all be for naught."

Harry had learned the basics of swimming one summer at Malfoy Manor. He couldn't yet do more than a few lengths of the pool. He and Draco never built up endurance at swimming, much preferring to hit the open skies on a broom. He wondered if he could somehow conjure a swimming pool down in the Chamber of Secrets.

He needed to talk to Sirius. Harry opened the drawer of his bedside table and took out the enchanted mirror that let him speak with his godfather. "Sirius Black."

After a few moments, Sirius' voice came back through the glass. "Harry Potter."

"Sirius, I figured out the egg!"

"What? Harry, that's outstanding! What did you do?"

"I took a bath with it. I wanted a nice soak to relax and think, and I accidentally dropped it. If you listen to that shrieking underwater, it sounds totally different."

"What is it?"

"Singing."

"Singing?"

"Yeah. It's a clue. Here, I wrote it down."

When he was done reciting the song and his preliminary thoughts on what it meant, Sirius was quiet for a moment. He made a few thoughtful noises, and Harry wondered if he was writing it down himself.

"I think you're right, Harry. It sounds like the noise before was unfiltered mersong. There is a colony of merfolk in the Black Lake. I suppose Dumbledore might have recruited them to help with the tournament."

"I need to be able to breathe underwater."

"Transfiguration to the rescue! You told me back in October that you were covering Switching Spells. And in December you did cross-species Switches. You did quite well, yes?"

"Moderately so. I am a bit up in my marks."

"You need to find yourself a large fish. Switch the gills on to your neck, and you'll have all the oxygen you need."

"What about the fish?"

"Sadly, it will die. I suppose you might take one gill from each of several fish, but you could negate the need by acquiring gills from fish being prepared for dinner."

"That's true. Good plan. Other options?"

"Nothing is coming to mind. I'll talk to Moony and see what he can come up with."

"Okay." Harry had great faith in Marauder ingenuity. "In the meantime, I'll work on that Switching Spell. I don't know where I'll have enough privacy, though. I may get some weird looks if I put fish in one of the bathtubs."

"Just say it's a prank on Gryffindor, and all will be well," Sirius joked. "It was just the reverse for us in school. No matter what we did, if we called it a prank on Slytherin, nobody asked any more questions."

Harry chuckled. "That would work. I've got homework to get to, but I wanted to tell you about the egg."

"Certainly, certainly. Well done, and jolly good luck. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Sirius."

Harry put the mirror and egg away and wandered out to the common room. Draco, Pansy, and Jenna were still sitting with their heads bent over Potions essays. Harry sat down roughly.

"I solved it," he said simply. It was still kind of shocking.

"Really?" Draco questioned. "That's amazing. Behold the power of bathing."

"It was a complete windfall, you know? I was having the bath, and I dropped the egg in the water. I had to put my head under to grab it, and that's when I heard the mersong."

"Mersong?"

"Yeah. The song is the clue. I've got to figure out how to breathe underwater, because the second task is going to happen in the lake."

"I bet there's a potion to do it," Draco said instantly. "I'll start looking in Most- er, this book I have."

"Sirius is going to talk to Remus, but he thinks a Switching Spell would be my best bet. I need to get a fish."

Explaining why he needed a fish took some time, and after dinner, Harry and Draco took a detour to the kitchens. According to the Marauder's Map, there was a secret passage behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Harry looked at the map for instructions. He tickled the pear, and the painting swung out from the wall.

The kitchens were a madhouse of activity. Dirty dishes were being furiously cleaned and leftover food stored.

"Hello?" Harry said questioningly.

"Yes, sirs!" no less than six elves said, running over attentively. "What is sirs being needing? More desserts, perhaps? Or snacking foods for a party? Please to be telling us, and we's will be providing."

"It's a rather strange request," said Harry tenuously. "I need a live fish. Several, probably. And I need them brought to the Slytherin bathroom."

As he'd expected, the elves were very perplexed by his request.

"Sir is wanting a live fish?"

"Yes."

"To eat?"

"Not exactly. I need it for the tournament. I'm one of the champions, you see, and-"

The elves interrupted him with a flurry of conversation. It was hard to make it out, but Harry gathered that the elves would be happy to help the Hogwarts champion.

"Good. Can you bring them up to the Slytherin bathroom in about twenty minutes?"

Sure enough, two elves brought up a dozen fish swimming in floating globes of water. Harry switched the shower on the end to a bathtub and cold water began flowing from the tap. The fish were dumped in and swam around happily enough.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.

Not wanting to waste a minute, Harry drew his wand and cast the spell. There was a strange tingling on his neck. He took a breath. It was still normal. The gills felt really weird to his probing fingers. They were definitely Switched. But would they work?

He turned a second shower in to a bathtub and filled it with reasonably warm water. With a Stirring Spell, a steady flow of oxygen through his gills would be assured. Harry drew a deep breath and began to laugh hysterically.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"I'm about to try out gills, and I'm taking a deep breath," Harry wheezed.

Draco chuckled. "You're mad, you know."

Harry stuck his head under water. Reflexively, he took a breath and spent the next few minutes choking and coughing. When he had decided not to die, he tried again. It was hard to suppress the urge to breathe. He had to keep his mouth open and let the water flow through them, but the gills did work. It was very very strange to him.

A day later, Sirius called via the mirror to say that Moony had recommended the Bubblehead Charm, some sixth year magic that Harry had never even heard of. The incantation was a tongue-twisting mouthful: Burbujee cabeza. It was Spanish, rather than the usual Latin. Harry did enjoy a little variety, like the Jelly-Legs Jinx, which was in French.

"I don't know, Sirius. I don't know if I want to trust some new trick for a whole hour. What if the bubble pops part-way through? I'll be in a right fix, won't I? And I won't exactly be able to cast it again, will I? At least the Switching Spell is fourth year magic."

"Moony says I'm to remind you about your corporeal Patronus and your Stunning Spell. If you practice plenty before the task, you'll do just fine. A proper bubble isn't popped by ordinary physical means, so even if you scrape a rock, you'll still be able to breathe. Watch out for hexes, though."

"I will practice. I'm also going to be working on the gills. I don't think I'll make a decision until I figure out which I'm better at."

"That's using the old noodle."

That evening after dinner, Harry met Padma in her secluded study spot in the library. He set his bag down and slid in to the overstuffed chair next to her. Thankfully they were both skinny, so it wasn't a tough fit. She leaned in and greeted him with a kiss.

"I need your help with this Charm," he said.

Padma made a thoughtful noise as she read the spell description. "A very interesting Charm. Pretty advanced stuff, too. Where'd you find this?"

"It's from the Standard Book of Spells, grade six." Harry had found a copy amongst Sirius' old books in his multi-compartment trunk.

"N.E.W.T. level. Cool. You need this for the second task?"

"Yeah."

"You figured out the egg?" Padma sounded amazed. She must have heard about the awful screeching.

"Yeah. It's mersong. If you hold the egg under water, you can hear the clue. I think I've got to go in the lake."

"Well where's the fun in that? How are we supposed to watch?"

"I didn't think about it. Maybe they'll use the same one as for the broom race."

"Well, I'm sure Dumbledore has it taken care of. Let's get this spell."

They worked on the wand movement for a good half-hour. The incantation fumbled Harry's tongue for just as long. They finally gave it up for the night and devoted some time to studying each other's lips.

Padma broke the kiss and nuzzled along his jawline to the tender spot just behind his ear. It didn't quite feel like tickling, and Harry squirmed in the seat. He didn't want her to stop, but it was driving him crazy. She kissed his earlobe, flicking it with the tip of her tongue. She traced the whorls and curves, and Harry didn't know which way was up. Her lips slowly moved down his neck, gently sucking and nibbling. He was going mad, and he couldn't be enjoying himself more.

Harry opened his eyes and using one finger, guided Padma's mouth back up to his. Their teeth clicked together. He kissed the corner of her mouth, slowly moving down her smooth skin to the nape of her neck, which was just barely exposed. He tried to imitate what she had done to him. A happy-sounding growl rumbled under his lips. Every so often she would gasp or clutch at him with an iron hand.

Just then, the bell signalling ten minutes to curfew rang. Padma looked very flustered when Harry stopped. Her breathing was shallow, and tiny beads of sweat stood out on her forehead. Her eyes were slightly unfocused.

"Stupid curfew," she complained, as they packed up their books.

"I was having fun."

"Me too."

Padma pressed her lips to his outside the library and was gone without a further word. Harry hurried to the dungeons, entering the common room just as the bell tolled curfew.

After practising all week, Harry was actually able to cast the Bubblehead Charm. At first his bubble was weak and flimsy. It popped at the slightest breeze. Over the weekend, he improved to the point where he could poke it with a freshly sharpened quill and it would remain. He was nervous about trying to breathe underwater with it.

He'd decided to go with the Bubblehead Charm over the Switching Spell by Monday morning. It was all well and good to give himself gills, but his instinct was still to breathe through his nose and mouth. His throat still rejected the water, even though he didn't need to worry about drowning. His lungs had simply gotten too used to breathing air.

Draco had reported no success in finding a suitable potion in his illicit potions book. Harry was going to cover all of his bases and consult Professor Snape after class.

"For homework," Snape called out over the sudden clamour as the lesson ended and the students hurried up to lunch, "I want three feet on the potential applications of Gnaridurm Sap in a potion."

Once the classroom was clear, Harry and Draco approached the desk at the front of the room. Professor Snape finished his writing with a flourish and wiped the quill dry.

"Eavesdropping, Mister Weasley, is impolite." Snape waved his wand, and the door closed with a bang. As an afterthought, he opened it again. "Ten points from Gryffindor!" It slammed shut again.

"Do you have a few moments, sir?" Harry asked.

"I always have a few moments for any Slytherin. Have you figured out the clue to the second task, yet?"

"Somewhat, sir."

"And do you know what you are going to do?"

"Not exactly," Harry confessed. "There's just so much information in the library. It's impossible to find just one thing without direction, and Madam Pince is insisting that the rules of the tournament prohibit her from helping me. I know I'm going to have to go in to the lake for an hour. What I don't know is how I'm going to breathe. Sirius suggested I try Transfiguration and Switch some gills on to my neck. Remus sent me the incantation for the Bubblehead Charm, but that's N.E.W.T.-level magic. Like you told me, I shouldn't trust in uncertain skills. At least a Switching Spell is fourth year magic, but I can't seem to stop trying to breathe normally."

Professor Snape spared a small smile. "Professor McGonagall has informed me of your increased facility with her subject. She wondered that I was not giving you private lessons. I had to pointedly remind her that I have devoted my life to a subject which does not involve funny words nor foolish wand-waving. But yes, Transfiguration would be a good place to start. Adapting the body to the given environment is an excellent strategy. As it happens, I, too, had thought of growing gills. However, I believe I have a far more elegant solution to the problem at hand." He stood and beckoned them towards the scarred wooden door that led to Snape's private stores, his office.

Reaching up to a high shelf without hesitation, Professor Snape brought down a glass jar with a dark green contents. He handed it to Harry, who wondered at the slimy-looking weedy stuff as he wracked his brain for anything he'd ever learned in Herbology, but coming up dry.

"Do you know what it is, Mister Potter? It is called gillyweed, and it grows in certain parts of the Mediteranean Sea. Chewing this plant will allow you to acquire certain amphibian characteristics, including the ability to breathe underwater. You will be well equipped to complete whatever deed you must."

"I think I have to retrieve something. The message in the egg said I'd have an hour to recover what was taken."

"Quests are a common theme in the tasks. Even the capture of the egg was a quest in its own way. Do not forget to bring your wand."

"Will I still be able to use magic, then?" Harry asked.

"Magic is not so much about words as thoughts, Mister Potter. You have seen me do non-verbal magic not even ten minutes ago. Speaking the spell is less efficient than thinking it. Develop a proficiency with non-verbal spellcasting, and you gain a significant advantage over your enemies."

"And all I have to do is eat this? How much? How does it work?"

"Behold." Snape waved his wand, and an empty cauldron on the bench filled with water. "Mister Malfoy, thank you for volunteering." He opened the glass jar and removed a small tendril. With a sharp steel knife, he sliced off a small bite-sized piece. The remainder he returned to the jar. "Open your mouth."

Draco did as he was told. Snape deposited the small bit of gillyweed on his tongue. Draco swallowed it without chewing. A very strange look came over his face. He grabbed at his throat.

"Levicorpus!" Snape said almost lazily.

Draco was yanked in to the air by his ankle. At the direction of Snape's wand, he moved over the cauldron of water and was dunked in head first. Draco's thrashings ceased, and tiny bubbles began to rise up from the gills that had sprouted.

"You see, Mister Potter? One large mouthful should be more than sufficient for your hour time limit. Take extra should the task prove arduous."

Harry accepted the empty bottle Professor Snape handed him. With a silent inquiry before he touched Snape's instruments, Harry quickly separated two good handfuls of the stuff and put the bottle in his pocket. He handed back the jar. He was saved! "Thank you, sir."

Draco's thrashing began again, and Snape lifted him out of the water and set him down on his feet. He stood there with water dripping out of his blonde hair and an irate expression on his face.

"Was that strictly necessary, sir?" Draco asked acerbically. His careful and precise pronunciation betrayed how perturbed he was.

"It was a demonstration, Mister Malfoy, nothing more. And yes, it was necessary."

"My hair is ruined. I won't be fit for public appearance until I spend twenty minutes in front of my mirror."

Now that Harry had his plan of attack, all that remained was to improve his swimming abilities. He had barely a month. Rather than waste time making modifications to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry had hit upon the brilliant idea of going for a morning swim. What better to prepare him for going in the lake than to go in the lake?

That first morning, Harry stared in to the water with deep trepidation. This had sounded all well and good earlier, but now that he was here, with the cold wind whipping at his robes, Harry privately wondered if he was absolutely bleeding insane. It was the middle of winter, and he was contemplating jumping in the lake? Surely he needed his head examined. The chill snuck in to his robes, and he shivered.

"Forget this," he declared. He pulled his wand and cast the Self-Warming Charm three times in a row. He was going to regret this no matter what he did, but at least this spell would make sure he didn't die from hypothermia.

To his surprise, Viktor Krum suddenly appeared on the deck of the Durmstrang ship that was moored at the dock which had been magically created just for the guests. "Good morning, Potter."

"Morning, Krum. Fancy a swim?"

"Yes. I find it most invigorating." Krum shrugged off his robes, revealing a very muscular physique. Though on the short side, Krum was downright chiseled. He was thin, but he made it work. Without further ado, he dove off the edge.

Harry shivered again. Crazy. This was abolutely crackers. He dropped his robes to the deck.

The cold pierced all his tender bits with cruel inconsideration for his comfort. He wanted to leap straight back out again. Only the presence of Krum, who would surely tell his fellow Drumstrangers about Harry's weakness, kept him grimly in the water. He resolutely began to swim.

Krum was faster than him, but Harry was motivated to improve himself. So Harry began braving the winter chill and going for a polar bear swim every morning. Though it took multiple applications of the warming charm, Harry eventually had a lot of fun in the process. Krum warmed up, even if the water didn't. He seemed like a decent fellow, but Harry made sure to keep his wand on him at all times. Professor Moody's imperative rang in his ears: Constant vigilance!

Everyone grumbled at Harry about getting up so early. None of them wanted to take the responsibility of watching his back at that ungodly hour. Millie was finally elected by committee, with the reasoning that since Krum was her boyfriend, she had an excuse to be present and might lower his guard.

to be continued...