Chapter 31: Chapter 31: The Second Task Part – 1

February 24th arrived with a biting wind sweeping across the Hogwarts grounds, carrying the promise of more snow. Despite the freezing temperatures, an air of buzzing excitement gripped the student body. The second task of the Triwizard Tournament was upon them.

Arthur made his way to the platform at the edge of the Great Lake early in the morning, his footsteps crunching on the frost-covered grass. Unlike the other champions who’d certainly be panicking over last-minute preparations, he felt perfectly calm and confident. He’d been ready for weeks. That was the advantage of knowing everything beforehand and preparing properly.

The venue for the second task was bloody impressive. A massive wooden platform had been built at the lake’s edge, stretching several meters over the water. Surrounding it were towering stands draped in the colours of the three competing schools. Mist rose from the lake’s dark surface, hiding the distant shore from view.

Being the first champion to arrive, Arthur had some time to himself. He conjured a simple chair and made himself comfortable, turning his thoughts to the one aspect of the task that still puzzled him. According to the golden egg’s clue, the merpeople would be holding “what you’ll sorely miss.” But who or what could that possibly be for someone like him?

His first thought had been Mercury, his owl. That seemed the most logical choice—the owl was perhaps his only genuine companion at Hogwarts. But Arthur had taken precautions. Three days ago, he’d sent Mercury away with instructions to stay far from the castle grounds until after the task. So his feathered friend was safe from becoming a hostage.

As for people… Arthur mentally scoffed. He had no close relationships among the student body. Not a single friend, not even an acquaintance he particularly valued. That eliminated the most obvious category of potential hostages.

Among the staff, Madam Pomfrey was the only one with whom he shared a degree of mutual respect and perhaps even guarded affection, born from countless visits to the hospital wing and shared discussions on healing magic. But the organisers wouldn’t be daft enough to take the school’s only Healer hostage, especially not during a potentially dangerous task.

The only other possibility was Aurora, but surely the tournament organizers weren’t barmy enough to kidnap a Muggle MI6 agent and stuff her underwater in a merpeople village? The diplomatic incident would be spectacular. Arthur almost wished they had tried, just to witness the fallout.

That left… what? Some precious books? The thought made him inwardly cringe. While he valued knowledge immensely, being publicly identified as someone whose most precious “treasure” was a book felt… embarrassing.

He ran through the possibilities again and again, coming up blank. There simply wasn’t anyone or anything conventionally “precious” to him within the confines of Hogwarts that the organisers could realistically take. He was stumped, an unusual and irritating state of affairs.

Arthur was pulled from his musings by the arrival of the other champions and the tournament officials. The stands were now filling rapidly with excited students and staff, their cheers and chatter creating a racket that echoed across the water.

Harry Potter stumbled onto the platform looking like a nervous wreck, his face pale and his hair even messier than usual. Clearly, Arthur’s hint hadn’t been enough to fully prepare him. He didn’t blame the boy—for a fourth-year, finding ways to breathe underwater for an hour would be extremely challenging. The Bubble-Head Charm and human transfiguration were far beyond most fourth-years’ abilities, and gillyweed was difficult to get hold of without a friendly Potions master.

Yet, Arthur noticed with interest, Harry clutched something in his fist that looked suspiciously like gillyweed. Dobby succeeded like in the canon then, Arthur thought.

Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum arrived next, both looking focused and determined. Fleur had her silvery hair tied back tightly, while Krum’s permanent scowl seemed even more pronounced than usual.

“Nervous?” Arthur asked Harry casually.

“Bloody terrified,” Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bagman bounded onto the platform, looking ridiculously cheerful for such an early hour, his canary-yellow robes painfully bright against the misty backdrop. He gathered the champions in a semicircle.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle,” he announced, his magically amplified voice booming across the lake. “They have precisely one hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… THREE!”

With the shrill blast of the whistle, the stands erupted in cheers as the champions leapt into action.

Krum plunged headfirst into the water, his wand pointed at his own head. As he entered the lake, his features began to change horribly—his head stretching into a shark’s, though his body stayed human. The partial transfiguration looked painful but effective as he disappeared beneath the surface.

Fleur waded in gracefully, performing an elegant wand movement that covered her head in a perfect bubble of air. The Bubble-Head Charm successfully in place, she slipped beneath the water with barely a ripple.

Harry, looking nowhere near as graceful, frantically stuffed the gillyweed into his mouth, chewing desperately with a grimace. He waded into the lake up to his waist, looking unsure if the gillyweed was working, until suddenly he clutched at his neck, his face twisting. For a moment, he looked like he was choking—then he dove forward into the water, a flash of webbed feet visible as he kicked away.

Throughout all this, Arthur hadn’t moved an inch. He remained standing still calmly, watching the other champions with mild interest. The crowd, initially focused on the more active participants, gradually began to notice that the Hogwarts champion wasn’t moving.

“What’s Hayes doing?” Bagman’s amplified voice boomed, full of confusion. “The clock is ticking! Is he hesitating? Has the pressure gotten to him?”

Confused murmurs rippled through the stands. Was he giving up? Had he forgotten something?

Only after the other champions had disappeared from sight did Arthur finally start to move. With deliberate, unhurried movements, he conjured out of thin air what looked like an oddly shaped silver whistle.

The crowd watched in bewildered silence as Arthur calmly walked to the edge of the platform and blew the whistle. The sound it made was unlike anything anyone had heard before—a haunting, high-pitched tone that seemed to vibrate through water rather than air.

For several long seconds, nothing happened. Then, the dark surface of the lake began to bubble and churn about twenty meters from the platform. Suddenly, enormous purple tentacles burst from the water, spraying icy droplets in all directions. There were shrieks of terror from the stands as the tentacles—each as thick as a man’s body—reached toward the platform.

“Merlin’s beard!” Bagman exclaimed. “Is that the—the infamous Giant Squid?!”

Indeed it was. The legendary creature, rarely seen by most students, had surfaced dramatically. Its massive tentacles stretched across the water toward Arthur, who stood perfectly composed, not flinching in the slightest as the glistening appendages reached for him.

To the horror and astonishment of the crowd, the tentacles wrapped gently around Arthur’s waist and lifted him off the platform. Girls screamed, boys shouted warnings, and Professor McGonagall half-rose from her seat, wand at the ready.

But Arthur showed no sign of distress. Instead, as the squid began to draw him toward the water, he calmly raised his wand and cast a perfect Bubble-Head Charm around his head. The crystal-clear bubble formed just as the squid pulled him beneath the surface.

The audience remained frozen in shock, staring at the rippling water where Arthur had disappeared. Dumbledore, unlike his colleagues, looked slightly amused rather than concerned.

“Well,” Bagman finally managed, his voice cracking slightly, “that was… rather unexpected.”

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