Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Aftermath

The moment Arthur was dragged beneath the surface by the giant tentacles, a mix of horrified gasps and shocked exclamations erupted from the stands. Students leapt to their feet, eyes glued to the bubbling spot where their classmate had disappeared. For several tense seconds, the crowd remained rooted in place, expecting… something. Perhaps a desperate struggle, or a dramatic escape.

But nothing happened. The water’s surface gradually calmed, returning to its usual gentle ripples.

“Well,” Bagman announced uncertainly, his voice booming across the lake, “it seems Mr. Hayes has… er… taken a rather unconventional approach to the task.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um, champions have a full hour to complete their objectives, so please remain seated!”

As the minutes ticked by and the initial shock faded, the audience began to grow restless. An hour was a bloody long time to sit in the bitter cold with nothing to watch but a still lake. Students began milling about, moving between sections to chat with friends from other houses.

“Blimey, I’m freezing my bollocks off,” George Weasley complained loudly as he and Fred began making their way through the Gryffindor stands. “Might as well make this interesting while we wait.”

“Quite right, brother mine,” Fred agreed, producing a small bag from inside his robes. “Five Galleons says Hayes doesn’t come back at all—squid’s already had him for breakfast.”

Before long, the twins had established a thriving betting pool, taking wagers on everything from which champion would return first to whether the Giant Squid would make another appearance. Several Hufflepuffs had started a lively game of Exploding Snap, while a group of Ravenclaws debated the theoretical limitations of underwater breathing charms.

The atmosphere grew increasingly carnival-like until a cluster of daring third-years began daring each other to dip their toes in the lake.

“Go on then, Parker!” urged a Gryffindor boy. “Just to the ankles. Double dare you!”

The boy named Parker had just removed his shoes when a gruff voice froze him in place.

“PUT THAT BACK ON, BOY!”

Professor Moody stood at the edge of the platform, his magical eye spinning wildly as he surveyed the crowd. “ANYONE WHO TOUCHES THAT WATER GETS DETENTION TILL YEAR END!”

His scarred face contorted in a terrifying grimace as he stumped along the edge of the platform, wand drawn. “CONSTANT VIGILANCE! There’s a reason champions are doing this task, not spectators. You want to swim with the grindylows, boy? They’ll strip flesh from bone in minutes!”

Parker hastily jammed his foot back into his shoe, face as pale as Nearly Headless Nick.

Moody’s intervention established a clear boundary between the stands and the lake. A few additional stern warnings (and one especially creative threat involving transfiguring troublemakers into flobberworms) ensured that order was maintained, if not enthusiasm.

As the waiting continued, Bagman tried valiantly to keep the crowd engaged with historical anecdotes about previous tournaments, but even his booming voice eventually faltered as he ran out of interesting material.

Only fifteen minutes into the task, a flurry of excitement rippled through the stands.

“Look!” someone shouted. “Bubbles!”

Indeed, the surface of the lake had begun to churn about fifty feet from the platform. Everyone leaned forward expectantly.

“It looks like one of our champions is returning already!” Bagman announced, his voice regaining its enthusiastic edge. “Too soon for a successful completion, I fear. Perhaps they’ve encountered difficulty? Who could it—”

His commentary was cut short as enormous purple tentacles burst from the lake, rising majestically into the air. Clutched securely in their midst was Arthur Hayes, looking remarkably composed for someone who’d just spent fifteen minutes underwater in the clutches of a legendary sea creature.

For a confused moment, many assumed he’d somehow fought off the Squid and was merely surfacing, perhaps having failed the task, as there was no obvious ’hostage’ visible. Most dismissed the soggy object under his arm as just… a hat.

Bagman, however, peering through magically enhanced binoculars, let out a strangled cry of disbelief. “Ladies and gentlemen! I… I don’t believe what I’m seeing!” His voice cracked with sheer astonishment. “Arthur Hayes has completed the task in record time—less than fifteen minutes—and it looks like he didn’t even break a sweat!”

A wave of stunned silence washed over the crowd, followed by a smattering of confused, hesitant cheers. People looked at each other, unsure how to react. On one hand, a Hogwarts champion was clearly dominating. On the other, it was Arthur Hayes, the rule-flouting, tradition-snubbing Muggle-born Slytherin. The internal conflict was visible on many faces.

The result was scattered, half-hearted applause mixed with confused whispers. “Is that a hat?” “Why didn’t the squid eat him?” “Show-off, innit?”

Meanwhile, Arthur, having been gently deposited by the Giant Squid onto a solid platform of ice he’d instantly conjured on the lake water, gave the colossal creature a final, grateful nod. He projected a thought of thanks and promised more exotic treats later. The Squid dipped its tentacles in acknowledgment before sinking back into the depths.

Arthur turned towards the stands, taking in the muted, conflicted reaction. Beside him, the Sorting Hat, now free from whatever stasis charm had kept it dormant underwater, suddenly sputtered.

“Well!” the Hat exclaimed, water dripping from its brim. “I certainly expected a more rousing reception for a Hogwarts victory! It seems, Mr. Hayes, your reputation is even more abysmal than I surmised.”

“Understandable, wouldn’t you say?” Arthur replied dryly, carefully removing his own Bubble-Head Charm now that he was safely on the ice. “I did rather publicly embarrass their cherished traditions by skipping the Yule Ball. So,” he held up the soggy artifact, “you’re the treasure I would ’sorely miss’, are you?”

“Surprise!” the hat exclaimed with what might have been a chuckle. “Well, the professors were breaking their heads on who to choose as your hostage. After days of discussion, they could not come up with a name. Too much isolation, don’t you think? I thought humans were supposed to be social creatures.” The hat’s fabric twisted in what approximated a wry smile. “Well, when they were utterly stumped and considering raiding your trunk for books or some such nonsense…”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Books I might have grudgingly accepted, depending on the title. But had they attempted to rummage through my trunk, they would have encountered several layers of rather unpleasant surprises. And incurred my considerable displeasure.”

“Quite,” the Hat chuckled. “Well, just as they were contemplating that route, I jestingly volunteered myself. Boredom, you see, sitting on that shelf year after year. I thought a bit of aquatic adventure might liven things up! To my utter astonishment, Dumbledore took my joke seriously, and here I am!”

“Just my luck,” Arthur sighed. “I cannot imagine what the Daily Prophet is going to write about me next. ’Hayes Fools Ancient Artifact’ or ’Champion’s Treasure Revealed: Mouldy Headwear!’”

“As if you care,” the hat scoffed.

“Well, although I don’t care about what the general wizarding public think, I don’t want things going out to other countries or the muggle world,” Arthur admitted. “There, I want to keep a good reputation.”

“Well, perhaps you should have considered that before becoming infamous,” the Hat retorted sagely. “Too late now, innit?”

“Well, I’ll take things as they come,” Arthur conceded. “Now let’s leave these chilly waters.”

With that, Arthur began walking across the lake toward the judges’ platform, creating solid ice blocks wherever he stepped to keep him above the water. The crowd watched in renewed amazement as he casually strolled across the surface of the lake as though it were a park pathway.

Upon reaching the platform, the first person to greet him was Madam Pomfrey, who rushed forward with her usual mix of professional concern and exasperation.

“Arthur Hayes!” she exclaimed, waving her wand over him in a diagnostic pattern. “Must you always find the most dramatic way to complete these tasks? First walking in the dragon’s den, now the Giant Squid! Would it hurt you to do things simply for once?” Her voice was stern, but her eyes betrayed a hint of amused admiration. “Scared ten years off my life when those tentacles grabbed you!”

Arthur looked appropriately sheepish. “Sorry about that, Madam Pomfrey. I promise to keep things normal for the next task.”

“Normal?” she snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now, are you injured? Water in the lungs? Any grindylow bites?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Arthur assured her. “But my hostage might need looking over.” He held up the Sorting Hat. “Hasn’t had a check-up in centuries. See the patches? The tears? The colour’s practically leached out.”

The Sorting Hat somehow managed to look deeply offended. “I beg your pardon! I am in excellent condition for my age! Over a thousand years and still sorting students accurately, I’ll have you know!”

Madam Pomfrey’s professional facade cracked, and she let out a genuine laugh. “Well, I’m afraid magical artifact repair isn’t my specialty, though I could perhaps stitch up some of those tears if needed.”

“Absolutely not!” the hat protested. “My battle scars are marks of distinction!”

Even Arthur found himself chuckling at the hat’s indignation.

Professor McGonagall approached next, her typical stern expression softened slightly by what might have been reluctant admiration.

“Mr. Hayes,” she acknowledged with a nod. “An… unconventional approach, but effective nonetheless.” She reached for the Sorting Hat. “I’ll take that back to the Headmaster’s office where it belongs.”

“Goodbye then,” Arthur said to the hat. “I’ll come visit whenever I have time.”

“See that you do,” the hat replied. “Our conversations are the most stimulating I have all year.”

As McGonagall carried the still-muttering hat away, Arthur settled himself on a bench to await the return of the other champions. Madam Pomfrey provided him with a warming potion and a blanket despite his protests that he didn’t need either.

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