( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗 ) — the second task

The seats that had encircled the dragons enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below.

The judge's were sat at another gold-draped table at the water's edge, whilst Evangeline perched awkwardly on a stool at Dumbledore's side. He had requested her presence out of all the other professors specifically, but Merlin only knew why. It was odd; the Headmaster had taken to keeping her close by his side, as if trying to make up for the father she had lost. The brunette didn't know whether to be thankful such an admittedly powerful wizard had taken her under his wing, or to raise a perfectly plucked brow in suspicion.

Cedric, Fleur — a stunning, slim blonde girl from Beauxbatons who had complimented Evangeline's cobalt cloak — and Viktor were beside the judge's table, watching Harry sprint towards them.

''I'm . . . here . . . '' the Potter boy panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleur's robes.

''Where have you been?'' Percy's disapproving and bossy voice came. Clearly, filling in for Mr Crouch had gotten to his head. ''The task is about to start!''

''Now, now, Percy!'' Bagman tutted, looking intensely relieved to see Harry. ''Let him catch his breath!''

Evangeline and Dumbledore both smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him . . . it was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up.

Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath whilst Bagman moved among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. He had placed the green-eyed boy at the very end, next to Viktor, who was wearing swimming trunks and was holding his wand ready.

The Rosier girl waited until Bagman was done whispering to Harry before she went up to the fourth-year, offering him good luck and a quick hug. She caught Karkaroff's eye, who was keeping her eyes on her in an indistinguishable manner.

Bagman had pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the Quidditch World Cup, and said, ''Sonorus!''

His voice boomed out across the dark, murky water and towards the stands.

''Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!''

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air as the stands erupted with cheers and applause.

''Miss Rosier,'' Dumbledore began, a mere minute after the four champions had waded into the lake. His voice was hushed in an effort to avoid the others prying ears. ''It's certainly been a while since we last spoke properly, hasn't it?''

''It has,'' she agreed. ''The last time we had a conversation that lasted longer than a couple seconds was when you offered me this job, I believe.''

She didn't miss the way Dumbledore's eye twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. Every time she talked to the man, it was as if a warning shiver shot straight down her spine; maybe the wariness towards him was the Slytherin in her.

''And so it was,'' he hummed. ''However, I'm afraid this conversation will be much less pleasant than the last. Tell me, Miss Rosier, do you still speak to any of your old school friends?''

The brunette shook her head. ''Sylvia has gone off on her travels; Egypt, America, Japan. As for Cassius, Apollo, Juliet, and Pollux, I have not the faintest idea of what they get up to these days. I can only imagine — after all, we were all groomed to lead the same type of lives.''

''Do you ever regret your decision?'' He wondered, his voice dropping below a whisper. ''Abandoning your destiny for the unknown?''

''If by my so-called destiny you mean abusing my power and status, then no, I do not regret my decision. I must admit, it was terrifying — I was barely eighteen — but a friend once told me to ❛pick my moment❜. I got all of my affairs in order and left in the middle of the night, in hopes of avoiding an Unforgivable Curse.''

''I see,'' he murmured. ''You are one of the lucky ones, Miss Rosier. You were able to escape the shackles your society brings, which I think is one of the bravest things one can do — to question the thoughts instilled in you from birth must be an unimaginable feeling.''

''It was,'' Evangeline confirmed. ''I might not have the money, the title, or the friends, but at least there is peace. Albeit lonely, but peaceful. Once I tasted the freedom to do as I wished, I became insatiable,'' she chattered, before a long and pregnant pause settled over them. ''Professor . . . are you— are you trying to figure out where I stand politically?''

''Forgive me for the way I approached this conversation, Miss Rosier, but you are correct,'' Dumbledore replied, started. He had underestimated the pure-blood, a mistake that was advised for him to not repeat. ''If a situation like the First Wizarding War were to arise, I wonder where you would stand. Hypothetically speaking, of course.''

Evangeline had suddenly gotten the feeling his question wasn't all that hypothetical. Nevertheless, she drew a deep breath, glancing at the lake nervously before replying. ''That is an interesting question, to say the least, Headmaster . . . I suppose I would fight for what I believe in — against the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, that is.''

''Against your own family? Your own blood?'' The surprise was poorly concealed in his tone. ''Fear makes people do terrible things, Miss Rosier.''

''I may not be in the house where the brave at heart dwell, but I am not a coward, Headmaster.''

And with that, Evangeline had turned her back on Dumbledore and gazed out into the dim horizon. It was a particularly chilly February, she noticed, as her pin-straight hair was messily whipping around her face. A million question marks were popping painfully in her brain, until she closed her eyes and made an effort to clear her mind.

The Rosier girl was pulled back to reality once the crowd in the stands started making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet.

It could've been the impression that they thought that Ron and the little girl in Harry's arms might be dead, but they were wrong . . . both of them had opened their eyes. The girl looked scared and confused, but the Weasley boy just expelled a great spout of water and blinked in the bright daylight.

Evangeline could see the two squabbling about something, before they pulled Fleur's sister through the water and back towards the bank where everyone stood watching. About twenty merpeople accompanied them like a guard of honour, singing their horrible screechy songs.

Madam Pomfrey fussed over Cedric, Cho, Hermione, and Krum, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. The brunette set to spelling a few mugs of tea to help with their sickly states; she seemed to be doing that a lot these days, not that she minded.

Dumbledore and Bagman stood up ahead, beaming at Harry and Ron as they swam nearer, but Percy — who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual — came splashing out to meet them.

Meanwhile, Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

''Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she hurt?''

Percy had seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank, much to the younger boy's dismay, Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright, and Fleur had broken free and was hugging her sister.

''It was the grindylows . . . they attacked me . . . oh Gabrielle, I thought . . . I thought . . . ''

''Come here,'' Evangeline called to Harry before Madam Pomfrey could. She took hold of the Potter boy and pulled him over to Harry and the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket he felt as though he was in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat (as per the matron's orders). ''Your ears are steaming,'' she laughed, suddenly looking much to young to be a professor.

''Harry, well done!'' Hermione cried. ''You did it, you found out how all by yourself!''

''Well— Yeah, that's right.''

''You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny,'' Viktor pointed out to the fourth-year girl.

She brushed the bug out of her hair impatiently, before all her attention was back on one of her best friends. ''You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry . . . Did it take you ages to find us?''

''No . . . I found you okay . . . ''

''It will not be too bad,'' Evangeline reassured, despite not sounding too sure herself. ''They will not mark you down too much for that, I hope.''

She glanced over at Dumbledore, who was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson; a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. After a long while, he had straightened up and turned to his fellow judges.

''A conference before we give the marks, I think.''

They all went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy's clutches; she led him over to the group, gave him a blanket and some Pepperup Potion, and then went to fetch Fleur and her sister.

Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, intensely staring at Evangeline in interest as she cleaned the bleeding scratches. ''You're very gorgeous.''

''Thank you,'' she replied, surprised by the girls statement. Although she wasn't a stranger to compliments, Fleur's frankness was unusual. ''As are you, but I am sure you hear that a lot more than I do.''

''I don't see why I would. You're an obviously very attractive woman,'' she complimented, before the volume of her words decreased significantly. ''Are you a . . . veela?''

''Oh, Merlin, no,'' Evangeline replied, startled by the extent of her insinuation. ''One can only wish to be graced with such beauty.''

''It looks like you were,'' Fleur defended, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment at her error. ''Thank you for the first aid, too. You're very kind,'' she said sincerely, before rounding on Harry, who was sat beside her. ''You saved her. Even though she was not your hostage.''

''Yeah.''

The Delacour girl bent down, and kissed Harry twice on each cheek. It was no surprise to anyone when his face burned bright red, and it looked like steam was coming out of his ears once again.

She turned to Ron next. ''And you too — you helped—''

''Yeah,'' Ron babbled, looking extremely hopeful. ''Yeah, a bit—''

Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Evangeline smirked as Hermione's expression melted into one of pure fury, but before she could comment, Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed. Everyone jumped and the stands went silent.

''Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached out decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows . . . Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows and failed to reach her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.''

An applause sounded from the stands.

''Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time allocated. We therefore award him fourty-seven points.''

There were enormous cheers from the crowd, predominantly led by the glowing Hufflepuffs.

''Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him fourty points.''

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

''Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all the hostages to safety, not merely his own.''

Evangeline, Hermione, and Ron all gave Harry half-exasperated and half-commiserating glances.

''Most of the judges,'' Bagman began, giving Karkaroff a nasty side-eye, ''feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However . . . Mr Potter's score is fourty-five points.''

To say she was caught by surprise was an understatement. She collected herself fairly quickly, applauding hard with the crowd and knocking Harry's shoulder with her own, despite towering a good three inches over him.

''There you go, Harry!'' Ron shouted. ''You weren't being thick after all — you were showing moral fibre!''

Fleur was cheering very hard too, but Viktor didn't look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation once again, but she was too busy cheering for Harry to listen.

''The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June. The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.''