The Tenth Weasley - CH - 143

The sound came first — a faint splash, then a wave of ripples widening across the dark water.

All eyes turned toward the lake, the mist trembling with motion. A figure was rising slowly from the depths.

It was Charlie Potter.

He broke through the surface with a gasp, dragging Ginny Weasley close to him with one arm. Both were drenched, their breaths harsh and visible in the cold air. Charlie’s robes were torn at one sleeve, and he looked utterly exhausted — but alive.

The crowd roared. Molly Weasley nearly fainted.

“Ginny!” she cried, clutching Arthur’s arm so tightly that he winced.

Charlie swam toward the nearest platform with determined strokes, Ginny’s red hair fanning behind her like a comet’s trail. As soon as they reached the edge, two Ministry wizards leaned down, pulling Ginny to safety first and then helping Charlie climb out after her.

The Hogwarts stands erupted in cheers, clapping and waving flags. Fred and George were on their feet, shouting,

“THAT’S OUR SISTER!”

Charlie collapsed on the platform for a moment, chest heaving, his hair plastered to his forehead. Ginny was shivering, but awake — she blinked rapidly, looking around in confusion, her teeth chattering. Molly and Arthur were already trying to climb over the railing before Percy stopped them, exasperated.

“She’s fine! Wait till they bring her ashore!” Percy said, but his voice trembled with relief.

Before the cheers could die down, another set of bubbles rose to the surface not far from Charlie’s spot.

Cedric Diggory appeared next, one arm holding Cho Chang tightly against him. The Hufflepuff crowd exploded with applause.

Cedric swam powerfully to shore, Cho limp but unharmed, her eyes fluttering open as they reached the platform.

“The remaining champions completed!” Bagman shouted through his sonorous charm. “An extraordinary show of courage from Hogwarts’ own Charlie Potter and Cedric Diggory!”

Harry, sitting beside Hermione and Fleur, gave a short nod. “Good work, Charlie,” he murmured. Hermione smiled faintly, clapping for both of them, though Fleur’s gaze stayed locked on the lake — unblinking, pale, desperate.

Then, a single bell echoed through the grounds.

A deep, resonant sound that rolled through the mist and across the water.

“One hour!” Bagman declared. “The time limit is up! Any remaining champions will now be recalled, and the hostages rescued!”

The crowd burst into chatter again — some cheering, others murmuring about who would lose points. Fleur didn’t move. Her hands clutched the edge of her cloak tightly, knuckles white.

“Where is she?” she whispered. “Gabrielle… where is she?”

Hermione touched her arm gently. “They’ll bring her up, Fleur. Just wait.”

But Fleur shook her head, her voice trembling. “Non… they said she would be safe, but—”

Before she could finish, the lake began to bubble violently. Huge pockets of air burst through the surface, and a shadow moved beneath the waves — vast, slow, and ancient.

Gasps rippled through the stands.

From the depths, a colossal form rose — the giant squid, the ancient guardian of the Black Lake.

Its massive body gleamed in the sunlight, water cascading from its glistening tentacles.

And in one of those tentacles, held gently, safely, was Gabrielle Delacour.

The crowd fell silent in awe as the enormous creature lifted her toward the central platform. The young girl dangled in the creature’s careful grasp, completely unharmed, her silver-blonde hair shimmering in the light.

Hermione whispered, “It’s… helping her.”

Fleur gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Gabrielle!”

The squid’s great eye glinted — intelligent and calm — as it reached the platform and, with incredible gentleness, set Gabrielle down upon the wooden planks. Then, without waiting for applause or thanks, it lowered itself silently back into the depths. The water closed over it, leaving only ripples in its wake.

Fleur didn’t wait a second. She ran — cloak flying behind her, tears already streaming down her cheeks. She leapt onto the platform, nearly slipping on the wet boards, and fell to her knees beside Gabrielle.

“Ma petite sœur!” she cried, clutching the little girl tightly. “Oh, mon cœur, you are safe— you are safe!”

Gabrielle stirred, blinking groggily. “Fleur…?” she murmured in a small voice. “Why… why is everyone shouting?”

Fleur laughed through her tears, hugging her even tighter. “Because they are happy, ma chérie. You are safe. You are with me again.”

Hermione watched from a distance, smiling softly. “Told you she’d be fine.”

Harry nodded, crossing his arms. “You were right. The lake wouldn’t dare hurt a child.”

Fleur continued to cry quietly into her sister’s hair. Around them, the Beauxbatons girls had gathered — some crying, others smiling. Even Madame Maxime, towering above them, had tears glistening in her eyes. She placed a gentle hand on Fleur’s shoulder.

“Courage, ma fille,” she said warmly. “You did well. Your sister is proud of you.”

Fleur turned and whispered, her voice still trembling, “Merci, Madame. I thought I lost her.”

“Non,” Maxime said softly, shaking her head. “The lake has its guardians.”

On the judges’ platform, Bagman was already preparing to announce the results, but for the crowd, the scores didn’t matter anymore. All the hostages were safe, all the champions alive. The tension of the past hour dissolved into laughter and applause.

Charlie, wrapped in a blanket now, looked across the stands at Harry and raised a hand. Harry waved back with a grin.

Cedric was sitting beside Cho, who had just woken up properly and smiled weakly at him.

And Fleur, still clutching Gabrielle, finally looked up — her face streaked with tears but radiant with relief.

Harry caught her eye and nodded. She smiled faintly in return, mouthing, thank you.

Hermione leaned back in her seat, sighing. “At least it’s over.”

Harry gave her a sideways glance. “For now.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Harry’s gaze lingered on the mist-covered lake. “Every time they call this a test, I feel like they’re testing something else — not courage, not magic. Something deeper.”

Hermione frowned softly. “You mean… you?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes reflected the still, silver water. “Let’s just say I have a feeling this tournament isn’t done with us yet.”

The chill in the air had eased. The crowd, now buzzing with excitement, leaned forward in anticipation as the champions gathered near the judges’ platform. The lake, calm once more, gleamed like black glass behind them — silent witness to all that had unfolded.

Ludo Bagman’s magically amplified voice boomed over the field again, cheerful and theatrical as ever:

“Ladies and gentlemen! What a spectacular Second Task we’ve just witnessed!”

The crowd erupted in applause. Even those who had been bored during the long wait now cheered with renewed energy.

Bagman’s grin was so wide it nearly split his face. “Our champions have braved the cold depths of the Black Lake, faced Grindylows, merfolk, and their own fears — and every single one of them has returned safely! Let’s give them all a huge round of applause!”

Thunderous clapping filled the air.

Harry stood with his hands in his pockets, his Durmstrang cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. Hermione stood a little behind him, watching proudly. Fleur, still wrapped in her thick cloak, held Gabrielle’s hand tightly; Cedric stood beside Cho, who was drying her hair with a small charm; and Charlie Potter stood proudly next to Ginny, who was surrounded by her brothers the moment she stepped onto dry land.

Fred and George were holding up a massive red-and-gold banner that said CHARLIE POTTER & HARRY WEASLEY DO IT BEST!

Molly had her face buried in Arthur’s shoulder, crying softly out of relief.

Meanwhile, Percy was furiously scribbling notes on a parchment, muttering about “documentation for official Ministry record.”

On the raised platform, the five judges gathered behind their desks — Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Barty Crouch Sr., Igor Karkaroff, and Ludo Bagman himself. Each had a stack of enchanted scorecards that hovered before them.

There was a low murmur between them as they whispered, quilled notes appearing in the air as glowing script. Then, one by one, they straightened.

Bagman cleared his throat. “And now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for — the scores!”

“First, Charlie Potter of Hogwarts!”

Charlie stepped forward, dripping and exhausted but smiling faintly. Ginny clapped the loudest, joined by Fred, George, and nearly the entire Gryffindor section.

“Charlie used ingenious use of gilleweed,” Bagman announced. “However, he sustained some injuries and took a little longer than the top scorers. His hostage, Miss Ginny Weasley, was returned safe and sound!”

Bagman waved his wand, and numbers appeared in shimmering gold letters above Charlie’s head:

Dumbledore: 9 — Madame Maxime: 8 — Barty Crouch Sr.: 8 — Igor Karkaroff: 7 — Ludo Bagman: 9

“Total: 41 points!”

The Hogwarts crowd cheered thunderously. Fred and George hoisted Ginny onto their shoulders, shouting, “CHARLIE THE CHAMPION!” while Percy clapped politely, clearly torn between pride and propriety.

“Next — Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts!”

Cedric stepped forward, tall and composed despite the exhaustion on his face. Cho gave him an encouraging smile.

“Mr. Diggory displayed fine judgment and charmwork, using the Bubble-Head spell effectively and rescuing his hostage, Miss Cho Chang,” Bagman said. “He showed excellent endurance, though he faced some delay avoiding the merfolk sentries.”

The scores appeared in silver light:

Dumbledore: 9 — Madame Maxime: 8 — Barty Crouch Sr.: 9 — Igor Karkaroff: 6 — Ludo Bagman: 9

“Total: 41 points! Another tie for Hogwarts!”

The Hufflepuffs cheered, waving yellow-and-black flags.

When Fleur’s name was called, the crowd quieted slightly. She stood with her sister’s small hand in hers, looking calmer now, though her eyes were still red from crying.

“Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons displayed bravery and remarkable control under extreme duress,” Bagman said. “However, she was unable to retrieve her hostage, Miss Gabrielle Delacour, due to interference from hostile lake creatures.”

Madame Maxime’s chin lifted proudly, as though daring anyone to criticize her student.

“Nevertheless,” Bagman added kindly, “her courage in facing the depths deserves recognition.”

The glowing numbers appeared:

Dumbledore: 7 — Madame Maxime: 9 — Barty Crouch Sr.: 7 — Igor Karkaroff: 4 — Ludo Bagman: 7

“Total: 34 points!”

The Beauxbatons students erupted in cheers, crying out Fleur’s name. Even Gabrielle clapped, smiling shyly at her sister.

Then Bagman raised his wand again, and the crowd instantly hushed. Every head turned toward the red-haired boy from Durmstrang who stood apart from the others, his cloak rippling like storm clouds in the wind.

“Finally,” Bagman said dramatically, “Harry Weasley of Durmstrang!”

There was a pause — a collective breath from thousands of spectators.

“This champion,” Bagman continued, “demonstrated a display of magic unlike anything seen in the history of this Tournament! While the others braved the depths directly, Mr. Weasley remained above the lake and performed a summoning spell of astonishing power, retrieving his hostage from the bottom of the Black Lake without ever entering it!”

The stands erupted — cheers, gasps, murmurs of disbelief.

Madame Maxime whispered sharply to Dumbledore, “Zis was not normal spellwork, Albus.”

Dumbledore only smiled faintly. “No, Olympe. It was exceptional.”

Bagman grinned. “Now, the judges’ scores!”

Above Harry, the glowing numbers appeared one by one:

Dumbledore: 10 — Madame Maxime: 8 — Barty Crouch Sr.: 9 — Igor Karkaroff: 10 — Ludo Bagman: 10

“Total: 47 points! The highest score of the task!”

The crowd roared so loudly the banners trembled in the air.

Fred and George hugged each other, shouting, “THAT’S OUR BROTHER!”

Even the Porters applauded — James Potter looking impressed, Lily smiling softly.

But among the Ministry officials, a few faces looked uneasy.

In the Ministry section, a man in emerald-green robes leaned to his companion. “He never went underwater. That wasn’t a standard spell. Did you see the chains? That wasn’t ordinary conjuration.”

The other replied nervously, “That kind of control… it’s not supposed to be possible without Dark Arts.”

Arthur Weasley, sitting nearby, turned sharply. “That’s enough. My son’s magic is his own.”

The men fell silent, but the whispers continued — quietly spreading through the officials’ seats like ripples in still water.

Bagman raised his wand for silence. “And there you have it! The results of the Second Task! The standings are now closer than ever, and the Third and Final Task will decide who wins the Triwizard Cup!”

He paused, beaming. “Until then, let’s congratulate our champions once more for their courage and their brilliance!”

The applause was thunderous. The lake gleamed gold under the charms cast by students celebrating, and fireworks in the colors of each school exploded above the castle towers.

As the crowd began to disperse, Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand. “You did it again,” she whispered.

Harry smirked slightly. “Yeah. But somehow I think that’s what’s making them nervous.”

She tilted her head. “Who?”

Harry’s eyes followed the departing Ministry officials, their hushed conversation continuing as they disappeared toward the castle. “Everyone who doesn’t like when a Weasley breaks their rules.”

Hermione sighed softly, leaning closer. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep breaking them.”

Harry smiled faintly, the wind tugging at his cloak. “I intend to.”