The Gryffindor Tower had witnessed countless evenings of partying and festivities but tonight, it had a particularly special atmosphere. The return of both Professor Watson and their own house champion, Hermione Granger, had filled the entire tower with a sense of celebration and new hope.

The common room, usually settling into quieter evening rhythms by this hour, remained active with energetic conversations, excited whispers, and the constant rustle of newspapers being passed from hand to hand as students eagerly gulped every detail about recent events.

Harry and Ron also went down the staircase from their dormitory. Both boys were carrying large armloads of homework assignments, rolls of parchment, heavy textbooks, quills, and bottles of ink.

As they reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the main common room area, they were immediately struck by the intensity of the discussions taking place around them.

Groups of students gathered together on the various sofas, armchairs, and scattered cushions, their voices were creating a rowdy noise of excitement and speculation in the common room.

Many were eagerly discussing the confrontation between Professor Watson and the group of dark wizards he had arrested—wizards who had brutally abused Muggles. The Daily Prophet had revealed certain details about the incident.

It had happened on the outskirts of Berlin at night, where golden nets of fire had descended like an overturned canopy across the land. The blazing flames had illuminated the night sky so brightly it looked like daylight, and it was said to be visible from almost all of Berlin.

It must have been a duel no less spectacular than the one during the Quidditch World Cup final last summer—that’s what many people believed.

But it was the conversation taking place near the center of the room that immediately caught Harry and Ron’s attention as they made their way through the crowded room. Seamus was holding court with a copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in his hands.

The newspaper front page featured a large photograph of the Wizengamot courtroom, where figures could be seen engaged in what appeared to be heated debate. The headline, printed in bold letters read: “CONTROVERSIAL SENTENCES SPARK OUTRAGE: Dark Wizard Penalties Deemed Insufficient by Muggle-born Wizards.”

“My mother told my father about this entire disgraceful situation!” Seamus said, shaking the newspaper so vigorously that the magical photographs within its pages seemed to blur.

His eyes blazed with indignation, and his usual cheerful expression had been replaced by one of genuine outrage. “And my father immediately wrote back to me with his opinion on what should be done with these monsters.”

Seamus paused and pointed to a article about the tribunal’s recent sentencing decisions. “He told me that if these despicable creatures were in the Muggle world, if they had committed their heinous crimes against ordinary people in ordinary circumstances, they would face a firing squad for their actions. Given the severity of what they’ve done, the torture they’ve inflicted, the lives they’ve destroyed, my father believes that would be the only appropriate punishment.”

His voice grew even more heated as he continued, “And I completely, absolutely agree with him. Just look at what this pathetic excuse for justice has produced!”

He poked his finger at the relevant passage in the newspaper. “The tribunal’s final verdict—thirty years imprisonment in Erkstag prison. Thirty years! That means if these scums are fortunate enough to maintain their health, if they’re lucky enough to survive their imprisonment, they’ll still have the opportunity to enjoy their retirement years as free wizards!”

Before Dean Thomas, who was sitting across from Seamus, could give a response, and before Ginny who had become distracted the moment she spotted Harry’s familiar messy black hair coming down the staircase could also contribute to the conversation, Seamus launched into the next phase of his passionate argument.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” He said, his voice sounding clearly across that section of the common room, “I bet that if Professor Watson had been willing to preside over that tribunal, if he had been the one making the decisions about appropriate punishments, he wouldn’t have given these worthless pieces of shi….. ahem filth another chance to see the sun rise on their freedom!”

Harry, who had been listening to Seamus’s impassioned speech while crossing through the crowded common room, understood perfectly well the source of Seamus’s particular passion on this subject.

Seamus’s father was a Muggle which explained his especially intense hatred for dark wizards who specifically targeted non-magical people for experiments and abuse. The crimes described in the newspaper weren’t intangible concepts to Seamus; they represented potential threats to his own father.

Slowing his pace to better observe the conversation, Harry glanced over Seamus’s shoulder at the newspaper he was waving.

Turning to Ron, who was struggling slightly with his own armload of homework materials, Harry asked with confusion, “What exactly is Erkstag? I’ve never heard of it before.”

Ron shifted his books to get a better grip and shrugged his shoulders, his face scrunched in thought.

“I guess it must be some kind of wizarding prison, but it’s definitely not as notorious or well-known as Azkaban,” He replied. “What I’m actually more curious about is this ‘firing squad’ business that Seamus’s father mentioned. What exactly is a firing squad, Harry? Is it some sort of Muggle poison?”

The question wasn’t particularly easy to explain to someone who had grown up entirely in the wizarding world, with little exposure to Muggle methods. Harry paused for a moment, considering his words as he considered how to describe such a concept to his best friend.

“Well,” Harry began slowly, “it involves metal projectiles—small pieces of metal that are fired from weapons called guns, which are sort of like Muggle versions of wands, but they work through mechanical rather than magical means. These projectiles travel extremely fast through the air and are designed to pierce through human bodies. If someone is struck in a vital area like the heart or head, he will die instantly.”

Harry’s voice grew serious as he continued his explanation. “Some Muggle countries have used this method for executing criminals who have committed the most serious crimes, though the British Muggle government abolished this type of punishment many years ago. It’s considered… well, it’s considered a very conclusive way of ensuring that dangerous criminals can never harm anyone again.”

“Blimey!” Ron exclaimed, his eyes widening as he tried to imagine such a scenario. The image of high-speed metal projectiles piercing through human flesh made him shudder, and he instinctively took a half-step backward.

“That sounds absolutely horrible, it must be incredibly painful. Muggles certainly have some twisted methods of dealing with criminals… though considering what these dark wizards have done to innocent people, perhaps they do deserve such harsh punishment.”

As the two friends continued their conversation while observing the common room for a suitable place to settle down with their homework, Harry noticed that their usual favorite spot, the sofa directly in front of the fireplace was currently occupied by two first-year students.

Ron, noticing the same thing, took a step forward with the clear intention of chasing away these ‘clueless underclassmen’ that they were occupying territory reserved for older students, particularly during evening study hours.

However, Harry quickly reached out and caught Ron’s arm, preventing him from carrying out his plan to evict the younger students from their comfortable spot.

“Leave them be, Ron,” Harry said quietly, “We can find somewhere else to work.”

After scanning the common room for other suitable places, Harry spotted an empty table near the base of the spiral staircase that led up to the girls’ dormitories.

Harry and Ron made their way to the chosen table and began the process of organizing their homework materials.

As they settled into their work routine, Harry glanced up at the clock on the stone wall above a chest of drawers that sat on the far side of the common room. The clock showed that nearly an hour had passed since they had last seen Hermione.

Raising an eyebrow in mild concern, Harry commented, “How is it that Hermione isn’t back yet? She’s been gone for about an hour now, which seems like an unusually long time for even the most luxurious bath.”

Ron, who had slumped into his chair with the resigned posture of someone facing a long evening of chores, waved his hand dismissively.

“Who knows what’s keeping her? Maybe Angelina wasn’t exaggerating when she described that prefects’ bathroom, and it’s so enormous that Hermione actually got lost trying to find her way out,”

He said with a slight chuckle. “Though I have to say, I find it rather suspicious that the bathroom could be as luxurious as Angelina claimed. I mean, Percy has never missed an opportunity to brag to us about the various privileges that come with being a prefect, but he’s never once mentioned having access to some sort of extravagant bathroom.”

However, even as Ron said his skeptical opinion about the prefects’ bathroom, a subtle hint of worry began to appear in his expression.

“Actually,” Ron continued, his voice becoming more thoughtful and concerned, “now that I think about it, there’s something that’s been bothering me about this whole second task business. I haven’t ever heard Hermione mention that she’s particularly good at swimming, and according to the clue from the golden egg, she’ll need to stay underwater for a full hour during the competition. That seems completely impossible, doesn’t it?”

Perhaps inspired by their earlier discussion about Seamus’s father and Muggle methods of execution, Harry found himself thinking along practical lines as he considered potential solutions to Hermione’s underwater challenge.

“Unless,” Harry said thoughtfully, “she could somehow obtain professional diving equipment for the competition. You know, similar to how she approached the first task, when she summoned the Invisibility Cloak, she could prepare a set of scuba gear in advance and have it ready when she needs it.”

Recognizing that Ron would inevitably require explanation about this unfamiliar Muggle technology, Harry continued his explanation without waiting for questions. “Scuba gear is equipment that Muggles have developed to allow humans to breathe and move freely underwater for longer periods of time. It includes tanks of air, breathing devices, waterproof suits, and various other components.”

Harry paused then continued. “Of course, I’m not completely certain whether such Muggle equipment would work normally within Hogwarts. And there’s also the question of whether using Muggle technology would be considered a violation of the tournament rules, since it’s not strictly magical.”

Ron understood where Harry’s inspiration came from. He leaned forward from the soft sofa, looking energized.

“That sounds considerably more fascinating than this ‘firing squad’ business we were discussing earlier,” He said, his eyes bright with curiosity. “When Hermione returns from her bathroom adventure, you should definitely tell this idea to her and get her opinion on whether it might be practical.”

“Speaking of the second task,” Harry said, his voice taking on a more pensive tone as he leaned back in his chair, “I’ve also been curious about something. According to the clue in the golden egg, the task organizers are going to take away something precious that belongs to Hermione and if she doesn’t manage to retrieve it within the allotted hour, she’ll lose this treasure forever.”

Harry’s green eyes blinked with confusion as he continued his train of thought. “What do you think that could be, for someone like Hermione?”

“That’s actually an excellent question,” Ron replied, his own expression growing thoughtful as he considered the possibilities. He puffed out his cheeks slightly.

“It’s hard to say Harry what they might choose,” He said slowly. “It could very well be Hogwarts: A History—she’s always quoting and referencing that book. Of course, it might also be Confronting the Faceless—you know, that new book that she’s become absolutely obsessed with recently. Before her attack, she was carrying it everywhere she went.”

“That’s certainly possible.”

Harry chuckled, about to share his own guess, when the Fat Lady’s portrait swung open and Hermione, whom they’d been discussing, emerged through the entrance.

Hermione seemed to have encountered something wonderful, her face was beaming with excited smiles. She paused at the entrance for a moment, spotted Harry and Ron, and ran toward them with incredibly light steps.

“Make room for me, you two,” Hermione said as she reached their table.

Without waiting for a response, she unceremoniously grasped Harry’s arm and pulled him up from his chair, gesturing for him to squeeze onto the available space with Ron.

The two boys, neither of whom could be described as particularly small or solid, squeezed together and looked at each other, then both turned to look at Hermione.

After her bath, Hermione’s slightly flushed cheeks glowed, and her still-damp hair hung over her shoulders. Perhaps due to her excitement, Hermione had fastened the first button of her shirt into the second buttonhole which showed a small patch of her neck.

Ron rubbed his nose and looked away, then noticed Lavender watching him intently from the crowd. After a moment’s confusion, he waved and smiled at Lavender.

“What’s going on, Hermione?” Harry asked, pointing out the small wardrobe mishap before asking curiously.

“I’ve got it!” Hermione said, pressing her lips together as if restraining herself from shouting her discovery to the entire common room.

“The solution is so simple! Well…” She paused, reconsidering her choice of words, “perhaps I can’t accurately describe it as simple, given the complexity of the magic involved, but I believe I can pull it off. The key is that I should have thought of this approach much earlier than I did, shouldn’t I?”

“If you’re referring to—” Harry began, confused by Hermione’s rambling description, and frowned hesitantly.

“Advanced Transfiguration theory!” Hermione interrupted. “I can use human transfiguration to transform myself into a creature that can breathe underwater. The reason I initially overlooked this solution is that it requires mastery of techniques that are typically taught as part of the sixth-year advanced curriculum!”

“Sixth-year material?” Ron repeated, his voice carrying a note of concern as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I feel obligated to remind you, Hermione, that there’s only one week remaining until the second task competition. Attempting to master N.E.W.T.-level magical theory and practical application in such a timeframe seems… well, it seems dangerous, not to mention extremely difficult.”

Ron shifted in his cramped seating arrangement, trying to face Hermione more directly as he continued his argument. “Honestly, I think Harry’s earlier suggestion about Muggle diving equipment wasn’t a bad idea at all. He mentioned something called scuba duba that apparently allows Muggles to move and breathe underwater. If you could somehow summon such equipment during the competition…”

“Scuba gear?” Hermione repeated thoughtfully, pausing to consider this approach. After a moment of contemplation, however, she shook her head and gave her assessment of the idea.

“That could indeed help me move underwater, Harry, but you know, it also requires professional training to use properly and safely. That’s not my area of expertise, and besides, I don’t think the judges would allow me to use Muggle equipment during what is supposed to be a test of magical skill and creativity.”

“Well, I didn’t really expect it to be a practical solution anyway,” Harry admitted with a slight shrug.

“Speaking of which, I just remembered something, before you came back, Cedric came to find me. He wanted to talk to you privately, saying he wanted to repay you for the help you gave him before the first task. I guess he might already have an idea and wants to give you a hint.”

As Harry had expected, Hermione rejected this without any hesitation, though she was still mildly curious.

“Speaking of which, where exactly did you get this inspiration, Hermione?”

“Oh!” Hermione brushed her hair back, saying happily.

“There’s a mural in the prefects’ bathroom with a golden-haired mermaid in it. That’s what made me think of this.”

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