Beuwulf
patreon
The Tenth Weasley - CH - 139
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 17:59:35 +0000 UTCThe second task of the Triwizard Tournament loomed closer each day, but for once in his life, Harry Weasley had let something slip his mind. Between dance practices with Hermione, keeping an eye on his mischievous younger siblings, and ferrying curious guests into the Chamber of Secrets, the mysterious golden egg—the clue to his next challenge—had been gathering dust on his desk.
That was, until one freezing night aboard the Durmstrang ship when curiosity got the better of him.
Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, the egg gleaming before him in the lamplight. Its gold shell shimmered with intricate runes and small dragon-etched ridges that glowed faintly whenever he touched them.
“Right,” he muttered to himself. “How bad can it be?”
He unlatched the clasp and twisted it open.
A shriek erupted—an ear-splitting, metallic wail that sounded like every kettle in Britain screaming at once.
“MERLIN!” Harry yelped, clapping his hands over his ears.
The sound tore through the cabin, reverberating off the iron walls. He scrambled to close it, but in his panic, the egg rolled from his bed, hit the floor, and burst open again. The screaming doubled in volume.
Across the ship, he could hear muffled shouts in Russian and Bulgarian, doors slamming, and several Durmstrang students yelling in confusion.
When he finally managed to snap it shut, the silence that followed was almost deafening. Except, of course, for the ringing in his own ears.
Harry blinked, dazed. “I think… I’m deaf.”
Indeed, for the next hour, he could hear nothing but a high-pitched ringing that refused to fade. Even Hermione’s lecture later that evening—something about “common sense and patience”—was little more than muffled noise.
By the next day, Harry had fully regained his hearing… and his sense of humor.
He’d realized something important: the golden egg was the perfect prank weapon.
At breakfast in the Durmstrang hall, Viktor Krum and his teammate Damon were seated at the far end, quietly arguing over the rules of Quidditch fouls. Harry slipped the egg onto the table between them, pretending to reach for the butter.
“So, Viktor,” Harry said casually. “Want to see something interesting?”
Krum frowned. “Vat is it?”
Harry grinned and flicked the latch open.
The wail that followed made half the table jump. Viktor practically dove backward, knocking his tea into Damon’s lap. Plates clattered, chairs scraped, and a nearby first-year screamed as if a banshee had appeared.
“Close it! Close it!” Krum roared, hands over his ears.
Harry snapped it shut, trying not to laugh. “Oh, sorry! I must’ve opened it wrong.”
Krum glared at him. “You call zat funny?”
Harry grinned. “A little.”
Of course, word spread fast aboard the ship, and soon everyone knew that Harry’s “golden treasure” was cursed with the world’s worst sound.
So when Anya Petrovna, Durmstrang’s silver-haired duelist, walked into the common room that evening and found Harry casually polishing the egg, she narrowed her eyes.
“I heard about your little experiment,” she said coolly. “You think you’re very funny, da?”
Harry smirked. “Depends on who’s laughing.”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Then let us see how funny you are when you are the one surprised.”
Before he could react, she snatched the egg from his hand and hurled it across the room. It hit the floor, burst open—and unleashed another deafening shriek.
The entire Durmstrang crew erupted into chaos.
Karkaroff stormed in seconds later, robes flaring, his expression murderous. “WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR ZIS INSANITY!?”
Half the students pointed at Harry.
Harry, still clutching his ears, shouted back, “IT WAS A SCIENCE EXPERIMENT!”
Karkaroff’s glare could have melted steel. “You vill keep zat thing locked at all times, Weasley, or I vill lock it for you!”
“Yes, sir!” Harry said quickly.
As soon as Karkaroff stormed out, Harry muttered, “Worth it.”
But Harry couldn’t help himself.
Two days later, he caught Damon and Viktor whispering over the tournament schedule. Without saying a word, he silently crept up behind them, placed the egg on the bench, and popped the latch.
The scream echoed through the entire ship once again.
This time, Viktor didn’t even yell. He just glared at Harry, calmly picked up his quill, and said in a deadly quiet tone, “You do zis again, I throw you and egg into lake together.”
Harry chuckled. “Noted.”
Even Anya started laughing. “You should be careful, Weasley. He might actually do it.”
That night, after the laughter died down, Harry sat on his bed, turning the egg over in his hands.
It glimmered in the candlelight, perfectly innocent. He hadn’t dared open it since his pranks—his ears still occasionally buzzed when someone dropped a plate.
He sighed. “You’ve caused me more trouble than any clue should.”
Hermione, who had just arrived with a stack of notes, gave him a pointed look. “You still haven’t solved it?”
Harry shrugged. “I’ve been busy. Between dance lessons, prank wars, and keeping my family from burning down Hogwarts, I haven’t exactly had time for puzzles.”
Hermione sat down beside him. “Harry, that egg contains the secret to the next task. It’s not a toy.”
He groaned. “I know. But every time I open it, it screams like a dying banshee!”
“Because you’re not using it properly,” she said, exasperated. “You have to think about where the clue belongs. Maybe the sound changes underwater or in a different environment.”
Harry looked at her blankly. “You mean I have to drown it?”
Hermione sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how you survive tournaments at all.”
He grinned. “Luck and sarcasm.”
She rolled her eyes, muttering, “And me.”
Later that night, when the ship had gone quiet, Harry stared at the egg again. The runes pulsed faintly, as if alive. He could almost hear the echo of that screeching noise in his memory.
Hermione’s words replayed in his mind: Think about where the clue belongs.
Underwater.
He frowned thoughtfully. “Water… maybe the lake?”
It made sense — the first task had been about dragons, creatures of the sky and fire. The second could easily be the opposite — cold, water, silence.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Alright, egg. Tomorrow, we take a swim.”
He placed it on the bedside table, the runes flickering softly like heartbeat light, and blew out the candle.
Outside, the wind howled across the lake, as if whispering a challenge only he could hear.
By morning, however, Harry’s “harmless” experiments had caught up with him.
When he walked into breakfast, nearly everyone aboard the Durmstrang ship glared at him.
Viktor rubbed his temples. “My head still hurts from your stupid egg.”
Damon added, “I hear noises even when I sleep!”
Even Karkaroff had dark circles under his eyes. “Veasley, if you open zat thing again, I swear I vill—”
“Professor,” Harry interrupted cheerfully, “don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control now.”
Karkaroff narrowed his eyes. “Do not make me regret letting you stay aboard zis ship.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Anya leaned in and whispered, “You enjoy living dangerously, don’t you?”
Harry grinned. “It’s practically a hobby.”
Later that day, he met Hermione and Neville in the library near the ship’s lower deck.
Neville had been researching magical plants that could survive underwater, while Hermione had brought half the library’s collection on merpeople and enchanted objects.
“I still think you should test the egg in water,” Hermione said, flipping through a book titled Mysteries of the Deep.
Neville nodded eagerly. “I can bring some gillyweed from the greenhouse if you need it.”
Harry frowned. “Gillyweed?”
“Lets you breathe underwater,” Neville said proudly. “Professor Sprout grows it for experiments.”
Harry blinked. “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve had something like that this whole time and never mentioned it?”
Neville shrugged sheepishly. “You never asked.”
That night, the Durmstrang ship lay silent on the lake, its lanterns glowing faintly through the mist.
Harry stood on the deck, the egg in his hand, gazing down into the dark water. He could see faint ripples of moonlight, the surface shifting like glass.
He still didn’t know what waited for him in the second task, but for the first time, he felt a strange mix of excitement and calm.
The dragons had tested his courage. The water, he suspected, would test his endurance.
He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb over the smooth gold shell. “Alright, then. Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding, you noisy little menace.”
Behind him, the waves lapped gently against the hull. The tournament’s next trial was coming — and Harry Weasley was finally ready to listen.
The lake was a mirror that morning — cold, black, and utterly still. Mist curled along its surface like the breath of sleeping giants, and the air was sharp with frost.
Harry stood at the water’s edge, the golden egg tucked under his arm, while Hermione and Viktor Krum stood beside him, both wrapped in heavy cloaks.
“I still think this is a ridiculous idea,” Hermione muttered, rubbing her gloved hands together. “You could have tested it in a bucket of water, or a bath, or literally anywhere warmer than the middle of winter!”
Harry grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Viktor chuckled, his deep voice rumbling. “He vants drama. He is like a Gryffindor version of Durmstrang duel club.”
Hermione shot them both an unimpressed look. “Drama won’t help when you catch pneumonia.”
Harry shrugged, eyes on the lake. “It’s fine. I’ve done worse.”
Viktor snorted. “You mean dragons.”
“Exactly.”
They walked down to a small dock jutting out from the Durmstrang ship, the wood slick with frost. The sun was barely rising behind the castle, a pale orange disc through the fog. The ship loomed silently above them, its iron hull groaning softly as it rocked.
Hermione shivered. “You’re sure no one will see us?”
“Everyone’s still asleep,” Harry said. “Besides, Karkaroff’s been avoiding me ever since the egg started screaming at breakfast.”
Viktor smirked. “He is still mad about zat.”
Harry laughed under his breath. “He’ll live.”
He set the egg down carefully at the edge of the dock. It glimmered faintly in the early light, its runes pulsing with golden threads. For a moment, it looked like a living thing — something ancient, waiting to be awakened.
Hermione crouched beside him, studying it. “I’ve been reading,” she said softly, “and if the clue really is sound-based, it might only make sense in its natural element. Underwater, the acoustics change completely.”
Harry nodded. “So we dunk it.”
“Precisely.”
Viktor tilted his head. “And if it explodes?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to explode, Viktor.”
He grinned. “Zis is Harry. Anything can explode.”
Harry snorted. “Fair point.”
The lake was freezing — colder than anything Harry had ever felt. The moment his boots broke the surface, the chill shot up through his legs like a thousand needles.
“Bloody hell,” he gasped, teeth chattering. “That’s—brisk.”
Hermione sighed, kneeling at the dock. “You didn’t have to step in barefoot!”
“Yeah, well,” Harry muttered, wading deeper, “dragons, banshees, now hypothermia — it’s tradition.”
Viktor chuckled. “At least you make Durmstrang look brave.”
Harry smirked. “Or stupid.”
“Same thing,” Viktor said with a shrug.
The water reached Harry’s waist now. He took a deep breath, raised the egg above his head, and said, “Here goes nothing.”
He sank down until the cold swallowed him whole.
Under the surface, the world went silent — a muted blue world of shadows and drifting light. The egg glowed faintly in his hands, its runes sparking like molten gold.
Harry twisted it open.
Instead of a screech, a haunting melody filled the water — soft, eerie, and beautiful. Voices, high and lilting, wove through the current like silver threads.
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.
The song echoed all around him, carrying through the water like a spell. Harry stared, wide-eyed, as the runes dimmed and the egg’s light faded.
Then his lungs started to burn. He kicked upward, breaking through the surface with a loud gasp.
Hermione was leaning over the dock. “Harry! What happened? Are you all right?”
He coughed, wiping water from his face, hair dripping into his eyes. “Bloody cold—but it worked.”
Viktor leaned down, helping him climb up. “What did it say?”
Harry caught his breath, repeating the words as best as he could. Hermione’s brow furrowed as she listened, mouthing the lines to herself.
