Watching Fleur leave without looking back, swimming determinedly toward the village, the disappointed merperson showed a particularly crestfallen expression. Its shoulders or what passed for shoulders on its fish-like body slumped visibly.
When it noticed Harry approaching through the murky water, however, its eyes lit up with renewed hope and it immediately swam forward with enthusiasm to greet this new potential conversational partner.
"Hello!" The merperson, Gist Bud, as it had introduced itself earlier opened its unnaturally wide mouth full of rows of sharp, pointed teeth and enthusiastically greeted Harry in heavily accented but somewhat understandable English.
"Are you... also a champion? Here for competition?"
Harry's hand gripping his wand relaxed slightly, recognizing that this particular merperson posed no threat. He responded carefully in his limited, tentative Mermish, pronouncing the greeting he'd practiced: "Hello."
It came out sounding like a melodious trill underwater, though he wasn't entirely confident in his pronunciation.
Hearing Harry actually speak in its own people's language, Gist's already large eyes widened intensely, nearly bulging from its head. Its face showed obvious surprise and delight.
"You know our language?" it asked with obvious excitement, though still using English rather than switching to Mermish. Its voice bubbled strangely, like air pockets rising through water.
Harry nodded cautiously and continued in his stumbling, broken Mermish slowly: "Only... a little bit. Very... small amount. Still learning."
The merpeople's language was genuinely peculiar and completely different from any other language Harry had encountered, nothing like French or Latin or even Parseltongue.
Above water, it sounded harsh and grating to human ears, like screaming and caterwauling that made listeners uncomfortable. But underwater, the same sounds became incredibly melodious and almost musical.
Upon hearing Harry's modest admission, Gist excitedly swished its tail.
"Our language is very easy to learn, really!" it said earnestly, switching completely to rapid Mermish now.
"But English is much harder for us, the sounds don't carry well in water, and the grammar makes no sense. I've been learning it for a very long time. I've lived in this lake since I was very small, hatched right here—do you know what that means?
I want desperately to see the outside world above the surface, so I've been learning English whenever I can. Your headmaster, the tall one with the long beard, gave me this opportunity to practice..."
Gist chattered on enthusiastically in Mermish, the words were pouring out of him like an unstoppable unrhythmic song. It clearly had been waiting for someone to talk to, and the words came faster and faster.
Harry stood there in the water somewhat awkwardly, his bubble-enclosed head nodding politely.
The truth was, he genuinely hadn't understood more than a word or two of that whole speech.
You couldn't reasonably expect a complete beginner in Mermish, someone who'd been studying for maybe two weeks at most to understand such a long, rapid conversation delivered all at once. He'd caught "English" and "headmaster" but the rest was melodious gibberish.
Honestly, he would have genuinely liked to chat with the friendly merperson longer, if it weren't for the fact that he was currently in the middle of the Triwizard Tournament with a ticking clock.
So, with genuine regret, he had to interrupt Gist's enthusiastic monologue. "I apologize, but I still have the competition task. I need to go now. Time is limited."
Gist paused mid-word, its mouth still open, then showed a look of sudden realization. It slapped its own smooth, scaled head with one hand in a very human gesture of forgetfulness.
"Ah! Right! Of course!" It switched back to Mermish, speaking more slowly this time. "The champion's task! I forgot!"
Then it pointed with a finger toward a specific direction in the deep lake bottom, where the water looked particularly dark. "That way, where it's glowing with blue light, the hostages are being kept there! In the village center!"
"Hostages?" Harry repeated, his attention sharpening significantly.
He keenly caught this key, unexpected word in the merperson's directions.
He looked in the indicated direction, squinting through the murky water, and vaguely saw a patch of blue light in the distance. It must be the merpeople's village, lit by whatever magical glow they used.
"Thank you very much," Harry said sincerely, nodding his appreciation. "You've been very helpful."
Gist grinned widely, its multiple rows of sharp teeth glinting menacingly in the dim light, though its expression seemed friendly enough. It said in careful English: "Good luck, Harry Potter! Win!"
Harry was genuinely surprised by the personal recognition. "You know my name? How?"
However, the merperson had already swished its powerful tail enthusiastically and swum away with remarkable speed, disappearing into the murky depths before Harry could press for details.
Before much longer, after swimming steadily in the direction Gist had indicated, Harry finally reached the merpeople's village proper.
The underwater settlement was considerably much larger and more complex than he had initially imagined from his distant observations.
Dozens of crude stone houses were scattered around in a surprisingly organized layout, arranged along what might generously be called streets. Some of the structures were covered with glowing algae and swaying aquatic plants that provided ambient light, creating an eerie but beautiful effect.
In any case, the visibility here was quite good, much better than in the open water, thanks to the glowing vegetation.
This was genuinely his first time actually being here inside the village boundaries. On previous scouting occasions, he had only dared to observe from a safe distance outside the perimeter, lest the weapon-wielding merpeople mistake him for a hostile invader and attack.
As Harry slowly wandered through the village, following what seemed to be a main path, merpeople occasionally swam out of their houses and stared at him with curiosity, as if he were some kind of exotic specimen. They discussed him with their companions in rapid Mermish, gesturing and pointing.
He could understand fragments of it, simple, common words like "ugly" (used multiple times), "human" (obvious), and what might have been "strange-shaped."
The commentary didn't feel particularly friendly or welcoming, more like he was being evaluated.
After rounding a corner past a particularly large dwelling decorated with shells, he finally arrived at what must be the destination for this competition.
It looked like a relatively large plaza or gathering space. In the center of the open area, easily fifty feet across, a large group of merpeople were gathered in formation, singing in unison.
Their voices created haunting harmonies that echoed through the water.
The general meaning of the song, as far as Harry could decipher from the few words he recognized, was something like: "Champions, we are here... Come to us... We guard your treasures..."
Very straightforward and easy to understand, even for a beginner.
Behind the choir stood a large statue of a merperson, carved from dark stone and easily twenty feet tall. It was rendered in a heroic pose, holding a trident.
Harry figured it must represent some great historical figure from their tribe—a leader or warrior, someone like Dumbledore was to wizards. Though notably, no one had built Dumbledore a massive statue.
Four thick ropes extended from the merperson statue's carved tail, and at the end of each rope was securely tied a person, floating limply in the water: Ron, Hermione, Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle, and someone who made Harry's heart suddenly tighten with unexpected emotion: Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker.
Now he finally understood completely what Ludo Bagman had meant by "treasure" and what Gist had meant by "hostages."
Their task in this competition must be to safely bring these four "treasures" back to the surface.
However, he was rather puzzled and somewhat embarrassed as to why his designated "treasure" was Ron rather than, say, someone like Cho. Not that he didn't value Ron's friendship immensely, but it seemed like an odd choice to advertise publicly.
At that moment, Fleur Delacour, who had been ahead of Harry earlier when she'd escaped Gist's conversation, finally arrived at the plaza, looking somewhat exhausted.
She must have gotten a bit lost in the confusing village layout, taking a wrong turn somewhere, which was why she had fallen behind Harry despite her earlier lead.
As for Cedric and Krum, they were probably still searching for the correct direction, possibly on completely different sides of the village.
Fleur's first instinctive glance caught sight of Harry standing near the statue. She swam quickly to his side and waved, offering a breathless greeting through her bubble. Her expression was tense with worry.
Harry used his eyes to gesture meaningfully toward the giant statue and the floating figures tied there.
"Gabrielle!" Fleur cried out, her voice muffled and distorted through the Bubble-Head Charm's barrier but still clearly filled with anxiety and fear.
She immediately started swimming forward to reach her little sister.
"They're fine," Harry reassured her quickly, holding up a hand to stop her panic. "Look—they're well protected by magic, perfectly safe. We don't need to worry about their health. Now our task is simply to bring them safely to shore. I can demonstrate the technique first if you'd like."
With that calm explanation, he swam confidently forward toward Ron's floating form.
With a smooth wave of his wand and a nonverbal casting, a Severing Charm flew toward the rope holding Ron suspended.
With almost no resistance, the rope split cleanly in two. The cut end fell away.
"I'll go first and show you how it's done," He told Fleur over his shoulder, then lightly tapped the portion of rope that remained attached to Ron with his wand tip, channeling specific intent through the wood.
Through Transfiguration, the extending end of the rope transformed smoothly into a mechanical propeller that immediately began spinning rapidly, creating thrust. It carried Ron swiftly upward through the water like a torpedo. In the blink of an eye, Ron had completely disappeared from view, ascending at impressive speed.
Fleur stared blankly at this unexpected scene, her mouth hanging open behind her bubble.
How exactly was she supposed to learn from that demonstration? She didn't know those specific spells or have Harry's apparently casual mastery of wandless intent!
When Harry's head finally broke through the surface of the Black Lake, emerging into cold air and bright sunlight, he immediately heard absolutely deafening cheers that made his ears ring.
"HARRY POTTER!"
"HE DID IT!"
"FIRST PLACE!!"
The crowd was going absolutely wild, standing and shouting.
Harry exhaled deeply, water streaming from his hair. It seemed he really was in first place, which was both exciting and nerve-wracking.
The audience had watched his entire splendid performance through the magical large screens whether it was his friendly communication with the merpeople or those impressive final silent spells, everything had been executed perfectly and was worthy of everyone's enthusiastic cheers and applause.
From his position in the stands, Adrian watched this scene with deep satisfaction and considerable pride.
Harry now could truly be called an excellent, well-rounded wizard.
Harry then turned his attention to the nearby shore, looking for Ron.
After bringing Ron out of the water, the enchanted propeller rope had somewhat unceremoniously flung him roughly onto the muddy shore rather than gently depositing him.
'This didn't seem like the respectful treatment befitting someone's most valued "treasure,"' Harry thought with some embarrassment.
He had genuinely intended the rope to be gentler in its delivery, but that particular transfiguration seemed to have developed ideas of its own about efficiency over courtesy.
Ron awoke the very instant he made contact with the cold February air. He was now sitting on the shore in confusion, looking around at the cheering crowd with bewilderment, soaking wet and covered in lake mud.
He had absolutely no idea what was happening or how he'd gotten there.
After this first-place finish, Fleur also surfaced shortly after with Gabrielle held carefully in her arms, swimming rather than using Harry's propeller technique.
She looked particularly bedraggled, her long silver-blonde hair was plastered wetly to her pale cheeks and neck, and she was gasping for air. But her blue eyes were full of joy and relief at having rescued her little sister safely.
'Her Bubble-Head Charm probably failed at the last critical moment,' Harry thought sympathetically, recognizing the signs of someone who'd had to hold their breath. 'Must have been terrifying.'
Next came Cedric and Krum, who reached shore at almost exactly the same time, emerging from different parts of the lake within seconds of each other. Both looked exhausted but triumphant.
With all four champions safely returned with their treasures, the competition came to a smooth and successful conclusion. No one had drowned, no one had been seriously injured, and all the hostages *ahem* treasures were safe.
"So... why exactly were you at the bottom of the lake, Ron?"
On shore, wrapped in warming blankets provided by Madam Pomfrey, Harry voiced his genuinely puzzled question to his best friend.
Ron scratched his wet head, looking sheepish and confused. "Last night, quite late, Professor Dumbledore came to the dormitory and asked me if I'd be willing to help you in the Triwizard Tournament. He said it would be perfectly safe."
"And you just agreed?" Harry asked incredulously. "Without asking what you'd be doing?"
"Well... sort of," Ron said slowly, trying to remember the exact sequence of events. "The moment I nodded my head yes, before I could even ask what he meant, I suddenly just passed out. They didn't tell me anything about what would happen—I just woke up here, coughing up lake water."
Nearby, wrapped in her own blanket, Gabrielle listened with a knowing smile, understanding exactly what Ron meant.
Dumbledore had said essentially the same thing to her the last night: asked if she'd help her sister, gotten her agreement, then immediately put her to sleep.
Except that, unlike Ron's rough landing, the treatment she had received had been considerably much gentler and more dignified. No propeller had flung her onto the shore like a landed fish.
She giggled, watching Ron try to squeeze water from his robes.
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