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The Tenth Weasley - CH - 142
🕑 Added 2025-11-04 16:41:28 +0000 UTCThe stands overlooking the Great Lake had grown restless.
The cheers that once thundered across the frozen waters now faded into a dull murmur of impatience and chatter. The mist that hung over the lake thickened again, hiding all signs of the champions still underwater. Only a few faint ripples hinted that something — or someone — still moved below.
At the very front row of the gallery, Harry Weasley and Hermione Granger sat side by side.
Hermione was wrapped in a thick woolen cloak Dumbledore had given her, but she was still trembling from the cold. Her wet curls clung to her cheeks, her lips slightly blue.
Harry held his wand loosely in one hand, murmuring softly,
“Calefactum. Siccus.”
Warm air surrounded Hermione like an invisible blanket, and the moisture in her robes and hair vanished in seconds. The color slowly returned to her cheeks.
Hermione looked at him with gratitude. “You didn’t have to do that, Harry.”
He smiled. “Yes, I did. I can’t have my girlfriend catching a cold because of some ridiculous tournament stunt.”
Hermione gave him a small smile, though her voice trembled slightly. “It was more than a stunt. I was underwater for Merlin knows how long. And… I couldn’t even tell if time was passing.”
Harry turned toward her, his tone softening. “Do you remember anything? Before they took you under?”
Hermione frowned, thinking. “Just… McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. They came to me in the morning, said they needed a few volunteers for something related to the tournament. They said we would be perfectly safe and that we wouldn’t even know it happened.” She sighed, pulling the cloak tighter around herself. “Ginny was there, and Cho Chang, Fleur’s little sister, Gabrielle. We were taken to one of the unused classrooms near the lake. Dumbledore gave us a potion, said it would help us breathe underwater. The moment I drank it, I blacked out.”
Harry clenched his jaw. “So they put you to sleep and left you tied at the bottom of a freezing lake.”
Hermione looked at him, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. “Harry, they made sure we were protected. You saw the merpeople — they weren’t trying to hurt us. I think we were kept under a sleeping enchantment.”
“Still,” Harry muttered. “They didn’t even tell you. They just used you like part of the scenery.”
Hermione reached for his arm gently. “I volunteered because I knew you’d be in that lake. I trusted them… and I trusted you.”
For a moment, Harry didn’t respond. He only looked at her hand resting against his sleeve, his eyes softening. “You shouldn’t have to trust me to keep you alive, Hermione. Not like that.”
She smiled faintly. “Then next time, I’ll save you.”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “Deal.”
Behind them, the crowd had grown louder. Students were no longer watching the dark lake — they were talking, arguing, and complaining. The stands, once full of tense excitement, now buzzed like a chaotic common room.
One of the Beauxbatons boys leaned over the railing. “Can anyone even see them?”
“Not a chance,” said a Hogwarts fifth-year. “It’s just a bunch of bubbles!”
“This is ridiculous!” someone else shouted from the back. “We’ve been staring at water for twenty minutes!”
A group of Ministry officials at the front exchanged uneasy glances.
One of them, a tall wizard with a thick mustache, whispered to another, “We should have installed vision charms on the lake. This looks terrible for the press.”
Another replied nervously, “Bagman said no one would complain. He said anticipation builds excitement!”
“Well, now it’s building boredom,” a witch snapped, folding her arms. “They can’t see a thing!”
Up on the raised platform, the judges were struggling to maintain order.
Madam Maxime stood like an icy statue, glaring down at the crowd. “Silence, s’il vous plaît! You vill disturb ze task!”
Professor McGonagall, clearly exasperated, was attempting to calm a group of shouting Ravenclaws. “The task will take as long as it takes! You must show some patience!”
But the students weren’t listening anymore. They were talking over one another, their voices rising higher.
“What are we supposed to do, just stare at a lake all morning?” shouted a Hufflepuff boy.
“Why didn’t they make it a flying task? At least we could see something!” said another.
The Ministry officials looked panicked. A small team of Aurors tried to move between groups, muttering silencing charms that fizzled and failed under the sheer number of people talking.
“Absolute chaos,” muttered Percy Weasley, who was standing with the Ministry delegation. “We’ll be hearing complaints for weeks.”
Fred and George were lounging two rows above, thoroughly entertained.
Fred leaned toward his brother. “You think we can sell enchanted goggles that show what’s under the water?”
George grinned. “Already working on the name: Specta-Sea!”
“Add waterproof charms,” Fred said. “We’ll make a fortune.”
Hermione sighed as she looked back at the restless stands. “It’s absurd, isn’t it? Who designs a competition where the audience can’t even see what’s happening?”
Harry shrugged. “Probably someone who’s never tried swimming in a freezing lake.”
“I mean,” she went on, her voice growing frustrated, “They could have used viewing charms! Or projection spells! Even a simple enchantment to show what’s happening below!”
Harry gave her a look. “You’re thinking like a professor.”
Hermione shot back, “And you’re thinking like someone who just wants to break every rule.”
He smiled slightly. “It works, doesn’t it?”
Hermione huffed. “That’s not the point! It’s about structure and fairness! What if someone gets hurt and no one notices?”
Harry leaned back, resting his elbows on the railing. “If anyone gets hurt, I’ll just conjure another boat.”
Hermione glared. “You’re impossible.”
He smirked. “You’ve said that before.”
Minutes turned into half an hour. The mist over the lake drifted lazily, illuminated by floating orbs of light. Every now and then, faint ripples disturbed the surface — signs of distant struggle far below.
Hermione leaned her chin against her hand. “They really should have planned this better. People are getting restless.”
Harry glanced sideways at her. “You sound like Percy.”
She gasped, pretending to be offended. “Take that back!”
He grinned. “Sorry. Percy’s less passionate.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “Well, someone needs to care about planning.”
At that moment, one of the students in the back yelled, “I think I saw bubbles!”
Half the crowd jumped to their feet, leaning forward eagerly. But it was nothing — just a fish breaking the surface. Groans and sighs filled the air.
The noise grew louder again, and soon even the professors gave up trying to quiet the crowd. Laughter, chatter, and gossip filled the winter air.
Near the Ministry section, a small group of wizards whispered among themselves.
“Weasley pulled Granger out with some sort of summoning chains,” one said.
“Unbelievable, isn’t it?” muttered another. “Never even got wet.”
“That boy’s magic is unnatural,” a third said quietly. “Dangerous.”
Arthur Weasley, who overheard them, turned sharply. “That boy is my son.”
The men froze, suddenly very interested in their shoes.
Arthur’s tone softened a moment later, though his eyes stayed sharp. “And if you think that brilliance is dangerous, then perhaps you’ve forgotten what real danger looks like.”
Molly, sitting beside him, squeezed his hand proudly.
Hermione rubbed her hands together, now fully warmed. “I still can’t believe you didn’t even touch the water,” she said, shaking her head. “You just—sent those chains?”
Harry nodded, glancing toward the lake. “Yeah. I just… thought it would work. I could feel where you were.”
“Harry,” Hermione said softly, “That kind of control—it’s not normal.”
He smirked. “You’re just jealous.”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I am. But I’m also proud of you.”
“Good,” Harry said with mock seriousness. “Because I’m pretty sure I terrified half the Ministry.”
Hermione laughed quietly, leaning against him. “Half the Ministry? Try all of them.”
The lake, once calm, rippled again.
For a moment, everyone in the stands grew still — even the restless whispers died down as silver bubbles burst at the surface. Then a pale shape broke through the water with a desperate splash.
Fleur Delacour.
Her long hair clung to her face, heavy and dripping. Her arms moved weakly as she struggled toward the nearest platform. The crowd gasped — she was alone.
No hostage.
“Mon Dieu…” whispered one of the Beauxbatons students, standing in shock.
Fleur reached the edge of the platform, pulling herself up with trembling hands. Her breathing came in ragged gasps. Her eyes, red from salt and tears, searched wildly through the crowd. Then, with a small, choked sob, she fell to her knees.
Harry stood up immediately, but Hermione was already running.
“Fleur!” she called, kneeling beside the trembling girl.
Fleur’s voice broke as she spoke, switching between French and English.
“They chased me—les Grindylows! Horrible creatures! They— they would not let me pass—”
Her hands shook violently. “I tried— I tried to reach Gabrielle, but they— they—”
She burst into tears again, burying her face in Hermione’s shoulder.
Hermione held her gently, whispering soothingly. “It’s alright, Fleur. You did your best. The officials promised the hostages are safe. If a champion can’t reach them, they’ll be brought up afterward.”
Fleur sobbed harder. “But she is my sister! She is only a child! I left her— I left her down there!”
Hermione rubbed her back softly. “Listen to me—Gabrielle is going to be fine. I was a hostage too, remember? They made sure we were safe. They said it themselves.”
For a few long seconds, Fleur didn’t respond — only trembled as tears soaked Hermione’s cloak.
Gradually, her sobs quieted. She hiccupped softly, her breathing still uneven.
Hermione smiled faintly, brushing the wet strands from Fleur’s forehead. “See? Everything will be alright. You’re safe now. We’ll make sure she’s safe too.”
Hermione guided Fleur back to where she and Harry had been sitting.
The girl’s knees wobbled as she walked, her bare feet slipping against the wooden planks of the platform.
Harry watched silently, eyes full of sympathy. Fleur’s usual grace — the calm, confident charm she carried like a Veela’s crown — was gone. She looked fragile, frightened… human.
Hermione gestured urgently. “Harry, warm her up! I don't have my wand with me — it was taken when she went down as a hostage.”
Harry nodded and pointed his wand gently.
“Calefactum. Siccus.”
Soft waves of warmth flowed around Fleur, evaporating the cold water clinging to her skin and hair. Her trembling eased slightly. He added a gentler charm, so the heat spread gradually instead of rushing — like the sun returning after a storm.
Just then, one of the Ministry officials hurried over, carrying a thick, enchanted cloak.
“Miss Delacour—here. Please, wrap this around yourself.”
Fleur accepted it with a faint nod, her hands shaking as she pulled it over her shoulders. The fabric shimmered faintly, adjusting its size to cover her completely.
But the moment she stood, the whispers began.
Boys in the audience — students and even a few men — couldn’t help but stare. Fleur’s swimsuit clung tightly to her before the cloak fully covered her, and though it lasted only seconds, Hermione noticed.
Her eyes flashed with anger.
“Have some decency!” she snapped at a nearby group of boys, who immediately turned crimson and looked away.
Harry muttered under his breath, “Idiots.”
Fleur caught the gesture and whispered weakly, “Merci… both of you.” Her voice cracked, and her accent deepened with emotion. “I am… not used to being looked at like— like that. Not when—” She swallowed hard. “Not when I am afraid.”
Hermione sat beside her again, resting a comforting hand over hers. “They’re not worth your time. Just focus on Gabrielle. She’ll be fine.”
Fleur’s eyes glistened. “You really think so?”
Harry nodded firmly. “They’d never endanger a child. If any champion fails, the hostages will be brought up right after.”
For a moment, Fleur simply looked at him — the boy who had performed miracles. Then she whispered, “You… you are not like the others.”
Harry smirked slightly. “I get that a lot.”
The crowd slowly returned to its uneasy chatter, though now much quieter. The professors and Ministry officials were still watching the lake, wands at the ready.
The surface was calm again — too calm.
“Cedric should’ve been up by now,” muttered a Hufflepuff student.
“Charlie too,” said one of the Weasleys, worried.
Molly frowned deeply. “He’s strong, but that lake…”
Arthur squeezed her hand gently. “He’ll be fine, love. He’s trained with dragons. A bit of water won’t stop him.”
But Molly didn’t look convinced.
Meanwhile, Bagman’s magically amplified voice echoed again, a little too cheerful for the situation.
“Ladies and gentlemen! It seems Champion Delacour encountered a few… difficulties below the surface! But remember — safety charms are in place, and the merfolk are assisting any hostages still below!”
Hermione muttered, “If he says ‘difficulties’ one more time…”
Harry smirked faintly. “He’ll be the next one facing Grindylows.”
Fleur sat quietly now, wrapped in the thick cloak, her eyes fixed on the lake. Her lips trembled, but her breathing was steadying.
“Gabrielle… she is so small. So brave. I told her I would protect her,” she whispered. “And then… I failed.”
Hermione leaned closer. “You didn’t fail. You survived. That’s what matters. You can’t protect her if you’re gone.”
Fleur blinked, processing that, and gave a small nod.
Harry added softly, “And besides — you didn’t see what’s coming next. That lake isn’t done with us yet.”
Fleur looked at him curiously. “You mean…?”
Harry’s eyes glinted faintly as he stared at the calm water. “Just wait. You’ll understand soon.”
Then, faint ripples began spreading across the surface again.
The noise in the stands quieted instantly. All eyes turned toward the lake.
“Someone’s coming up!” shouted a student.
Fleur’s fingers clutched Hermione’s sleeve. “Please—please let it be her.”
Harry’s gaze sharpened as he stood.
The water swirled, bubbles rising like silver coins in sunlight.
Another shape was emerging from the depths…
