Chapter 15: The Second Task

The Room of Requirement hummed with a quiet energy, a subtle vibration that matched the anticipation thrumming in my own veins. I stood shirtless before a full-length mirror, robes tossed carelessly onto a nearby chair. The cool air felt good against my bare skin, a welcome contrast to the heat that was building inside me.

My reflection stared back, lean and pale, a few scattered scars marking my arms and torso. Souvenirs from those early days of training, pushing myself too hard, too fast. Nothing serious, Those scars would soon have company, though. This time, the markings wouldn't be accidental. This time, they were about power.

For months, I'd been waiting for this. My fifteenth birthday had brought a surge of changes - strength, sharper senses, magic coursing through me like a live wire. Puberty, a messy business for most even me sometimes, felt like an awakening, like unlocking a door I'd been waiting to open for years.

In a crystal bowl, the ink shimmered, a dark, iridescent swirl. Dragon's blood, powdered unicorn horn, and a dozen other ingredients, carefully sourced from the shadiest corners of Knockturn Alley. The recipe itself had been a challenge to find, tucked away in a crumbling book on ritualistic magic that reeked of forbidden knowledge. Rune tattoos. Permanent magic etched onto the very fabric of your being, A really dangerous ritual, your body and mind needed to be strong for this, They weren't exactly illegal but frowned upon.

I dipped the enchanted quill into the ink, its silver tip catching the dim light. My hand was steady as I drew the first rune, Celeritas, a spiral of intricate lines and curves, on my left wrist . Speed. Enhanced reflexes. It stung like hell as the ink sank into my skin, a searing pain that made me grit my teeth. This was just the beginning.

One by one, the runes followed, each carefully chosen, meticulously placed. Fortitudo for strength and endurance, across my chest. Acuitas for heightened senses and perception, spiraling up my right arm. Potentia for raw magical power, a complex web of lines across my back, mirroring the bones beneath.

The pain was intense, a searing heat that spread with every stroke, tracing a fiery web across my flesh. I rode the waves of agony, refusing to give in, to cry out. This was a crucible, a test. I'd come out the other side stronger, harder, more in control than ever before.

The final rune, Invictus, a symbol of invincibility, of an unyielding will, took its place on my left forearm. The ink pulsed with a faint, ethereal glow, a visual echo of the power now coursing through me.

I stepped back from the mirror, my body trembling with exertion and the lingering burn of the ink. The runes seemed to hum beneath my skin, a secret language of magic waiting to be unleashed.

"Inscribo," I said, the Latin word for "inscribe" rolling off my tongue, a command to activate the magic.

"MOTHERSONFUCKYOUBITCH", I basically yelled.

The runes exploded with heat, a white-hot fire that engulfed me. Agony ripped through me, so intense I thought I might pass out. For a terrifying second, I felt like I was losing control, like the magic was consuming me.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. The pain receded, leaving a tingling warmth that spread through my limbs. I felt exhilarated.

I looked in the mirror, my eyes widening as the runes settled into my skin, their glow fading and leaving only "normal" looking tattoos. My grandparents will freak out when they see this, I thought to myself.

I had to test it.

With a flick of my wrist, a dozen training dummies materialized, their wooden limbs stiff, their painted faces blank. Targets.

I moved, and the world seemed to blur. My feet barely touched the ground, my body a whisper of speed and power as I weaved between the dummies, striking with a force and precision I'd never known before.

Punches shattered wood, sending dummies flying. Kicks snapped out, swift and brutal. Every move felt amplified, fueled by the magic coursing through me. I was a weapon now, as lethal as any spell.

When it was over, I stood panting amidst the wreckage, a grin splitting my face.

"Acta non verba," (Deeds, not words)I murmured, the words a familiar mantra, a promise to myself.

The Tournament, Voldemort, the world… they were all waiting. And I was coming for them.

A couple of days before the Second Task, I found myself in the library, a stack of returned books balanced precariously in my arms. The place was practically deserted, Silence reigned, broken only by the soft rustling of parchment and the occasional muffled cough from Madam Pince, who was lurking behind a bookshelf, her gaze as sharp and watchful as a hawk's.

I spotted Hermione hunched over a table in a far corner, her brow furrowed in concentration, her hair a tangled mess. She was surrounded by books on dragon eggs, She was probably trying to find some obscure clue to help Potter. The girl was relentless when it came to research. It was one of the things I… admired about her.

That's when it hit me. Cedric had given Harry the hint about the egg in the original timeline. And since I was now in Cedric's place… well, it seemed like I had an obligation to keep the tradition going. Besides, watching Potter struggle was mildly entertaining, but I needed him.

I approached her table, Hermione startled a little, dropping her quill with a clatter. She looked up, her brown eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She was still a bit miffed about the whole Yule Ball situation, I suspected.

"Van Doren," she said, her voice clipped. "What do you want?"

"Just returning some books, Granger," I said, my tone carefully neutral. I gestured to the stack in my arms. "Wouldn't want to incur Madam Pince's wrath."

She glanced at the books, then back at me, her expression softening slightly. "Right. Of course."

A beat of awkward silence. I decided to take the plunge.

"You seem… preoccupied," I said, gesturing to the open books on dragon eggs. "Researching for Potter, I presume?"

She stiffened, her Gryffindor pride flaring. "It's none of your business what I'm doing."

"Just making conversation, Granger," I said, my lips curving into a slight smile. "I find your… dedication… rather admirable."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't need your admiration, Van Doren."

Yikes, I will have to make amends later.

"Perhaps not," I agreed, my smile widening. "But a little friendly advice might be appreciated. Especially considering the… urgency… of the upcoming task."

She hesitated, her curiosity battling with her Gryffindor suspicion. "What advice?"

"Take a bath, Granger," I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "With the egg."

Her eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise. "What?"

"You heard me," I said, my smile turning into a smirk. "Take the egg into the bath with you. And listen carefully."

She stared at me for a moment, processing my words, then her face lit up with a sudden flash of understanding. She scrambled to her feet, gathering her books with a frantic energy that bordered on hysteria.

"Right!" she exclaimed, her voice breathless. "The bath! The egg! Of course!"

And with that, she was gone, rushing out of the library as if a pack of dementors were on her heels. I watched her go, a chuckle rumbling in my chest. She was brilliant, that girl. A little too rule-bound, perhaps, a little too trusting of authority. But brilliant nonetheless.

I placed my books on the return cart, a sense of satisfaction settling over me. The Second Task, it seemed, was about to get a little more interesting.

The common room crackled with the warmth of the roaring fireplace, the scent of pine and cinnamon lingering in the air. Outside, a winter storm raged, icy winds howling against the castle walls. Inside, however, it was cozy, the familiar green and silver decor casting a comforting glow. I was sprawled on one of the plush armchairs, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in my hands, trying to unwind after a long day of Second Task preparations.

Daphne sat opposite me, immersed in a book on ancient runes, her brow furrowed in concentration, her blond hair gleaming in the firelight and around her neck a silver necklace that I I had given to her as a christmas present. Blaise, sprawled on a nearby sofa, was flipping through a copy of Witch Weekly, his usual smirk plastered across his face. Theodore, perched on a window seat, was sketching something in his worn leather notebook, his movements precise and economical.

A comfortable silence had settled over us, punctuated by the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of parchment. It was a familiar scene, a comforting routine that had become increasingly precious amidst the chaos of the Tournament.

But there was a certain… tension… in the air tonight, an undercurrent of awkwardness that I couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was the lingering memory of the Yule Ball, the kiss at the Astronomy Tower. Or perhaps it was the looming shadow of the Second Task, the knowledge that danger lurked beneath the surface of the Black Lake.

Blaise shattered the silence with a loud snort of laughter.

"Did you see the look on that poor sod's face when Bulstrode turned him down for the Yule Ball?" he said, shaking his head in amusement. "Honestly, some blokes have no game."

Theodore, without looking up from his sketchbook, muttered, "Perhaps if you spent less time 'plotting conquests' and more time honing your own charms, Blaise, you wouldn't find other people's misfortunes so amusing."

Blaise waved a dismissive hand, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Where's the fun in that, Nott? Besides, some of us are born with natural talents. We don't need to bury ourselves in books to excel."

Daphne, her gaze still fixed on her rune book, chuckled softly. "Natural talent will only take you so far, Blaise. Hard work and a bit of humility go a long way."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You sound like my grandfather, Greengrass. Always banging on about hard work. As if life were meant to be all toil and no pleasure."

I took a sip of my hot chocolate, the warmth spreading through me, the sweetness a welcome counterpoint to the tension in the room. Blaise's usual banter was amusing, but tonight, it grated on my nerves.

He fixed his gaze on me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Speaking of pleasure, Van Doren," he drawled, "Care to enlighten us on your sudden disappearance with a certain lovely lady during the Yule Ball?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Daphne and I exchanged a quick glance, a silent acknowledgement of the shared memory. Blaise, his eyes sharp as ever, didn't miss the exchange.

"Ah," he said, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. "So, you two did snog, then?"

I choked on my hot chocolate, the hot liquid scorching my throat, my cough echoing through the suddenly silent common room. Daphne, her face now the color of a ripe tomato, slammed her book shut, the sound reverberating like a thunderclap.

Blaise threw back his head and roared with laughter, his amusement echoing off the stone walls.

"Told you, Nott!" he exclaimed, slapping Theodore on the back with a force that nearly sent the smaller boy sprawling. "Five Galleons, mate! Pay up!"

Theodore, his usual composure momentarily shattered, glared at Blaise. "You're incorrigible, Zabini," he muttered, grudgingly handing over the Galleons.

I shot Blaise a withering glare. "Zabini, you are a blight upon humanity," I said, my tone dry. "A pestilence wrapped in expensive robes. One day, I swear, I will…"

"Oh, I tremble in fear," Blaise interrupted, his laughter subsiding into a smug grin. "But seriously, mate, you two were gone for ages. What exactly were you up to?"

Daphne, still blushing furiously, mumbled something about the view and the fresh air. I just shook my head, resigning myself to the fact that Blaise would never let this go. He was like a dog with a particularly juicy bone.

"Alright, alright," Blaise said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll let it slide... for now. But seriously, Van Doren, next time, give a bloke a heads up, yeah? Some of us actually rely on your strategic mind during these social gatherings."

I chuckled, shaking my head. Blaise was a menace, a whirlwind of chaos and mischief. But beneath the teasing and the bravado, he was a loyal friend, someone I could trust. Most of the time, anyway.

February 24th dawned, cold and grey, the sky a canvas of brooding clouds that mirrored the anticipation churning in my gut. The Second Task. The day I'd been waiting for.

The grounds around the Black Lake were bustling with activity. Students huddled together, their breath misting in the frigid air, their eyes fixed on the choppy, black surface of the water. The judges, bundled in thick robes and furs, stood on a raised platform, their faces grim, their whispers barely audible above the howling wind.

The atmosphere was thick with tension, the knowledge of the task's danger hanging heavy in the air. Whispers of merpeople, grindylows, and other creatures that lurked in the depths of the lake sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened Hogwarts students.

I stood apart from the crowd, my black robes billowing in the wind, my gaze fixed on the churning water. The Bubble-Head Charm, a simple but effective spell for underwater breathing, was child's play.

Daphne was missing. No surprise there. I'd suspected as much, of course. It was too convenient, too predictable, for the task to involve rescuing someone precious to each champion. 

Flashback - Daphne's POV

The room was small, sparsely furnished, and smelled faintly of mildew. I sat on a hard-backed chair, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. Professor McGonagall, her expression stern but kind, stood before me, explaining the details of the Second Task.

"You will be… incapacitated, Miss Greengrass," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "Placed at the bottom of the Black Lake. Your champion will have one hour to find you and bring you back to the surface."

I swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising tide of panic. Incapacitated? At the bottom of the lake? With merpeople and grindylows lurking in the shadows?

"Don't worry, Miss Greengrass," Professor Sprout, who stood beside Professor McGonagall, said, her voice reassuring. "We'll be keeping a close eye on things. And the merpeople have assured us that no harm will come to you."

I nodded, trying to believe her words, but the image of myself, helpless and alone in the cold, dark depths of the lake, refused to fade.

I glanced at the other hostages – Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, and Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur's younger sister. They all looked pale and anxious, their faces a reflection of my own fear.

Hermione's gaze met mine for a fleeting second, her brown eyes holding a mix of… something… that I couldn't quite decipher. Disdain? Pity? Perhaps a touch of envy? 

End Flashback

The wind whipped across the surface of the Black Lake, sending icy spray into the air and biting at any exposed skin. The champions stood lined up on a makeshift platform, a precarious wooden structure that creaked ominously under the weight of our combined anticipation.

Bagman, somewhat subdued by the grim atmosphere, finished explaining the rules of the Second Task. One hour to retrieve what was "taken" from us from the depths of the lake. Failure to do so within the allotted time would result in...well, he didn't elaborate, but the ominous silence that followed his words spoke volumes.

Krum, his thick brows furrowed in concentration, was already transforming, his body shifting, Fleur, her silvery-blonde hair whipping in the wind, muttered a quick spell, encasing herself in a shimmering bubble of air. 

As Bagman raised the starting horn to his lips, I shrugged out of my heavy black robes, letting them fall to the platform in a heap. Beneath, I wore a simple black tank top, the chill of the air biting at my arms, the runes etched onto my skin tingling with a barely perceptible warmth.

There were a ripple of whispers that spread through the stands like a startled flock of birds. The judges on their platform exchanged surprised glances.

Professor McGonagall's POV

Minerva McGonagall's breath hitched as Vincent Van Doren shrugged out of his robes, revealing a series of intricate tattoos that snaked across his arms and wrists. Runes. Powerful, ancient magic. She'd only seen such markings in old texts, whispered about in hushed tones in the staff room.

"Albus," she said, her voice low and urgent, her gaze fixed on Vincent, "Those markings... they're runes. Powerful magic. Where did he…?"

Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of curiosity and concern, watched Van Doren intently. "It seems Mr. Van Doren has been…expanding his repertoire, Minerva. While not strictly forbidden, such magic is…unconventional, to say the least."

"He's a fourth-year boy, Albus! Where did he even learn about this? And who allowed him to…?"

"We'll have a… discussion… with Mr. Van Doren after the task, Minerva," Dumbledore said, his voice firm but calm. "For now, let us focus on the matter at hand."

Harry's POV

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered beside him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are those… tattoos?"

Harry stared at Vincent Van Doren, his heart pounding in his chest. The Slytherin champion, stripped to the waist, stood on the platform, a network of dark, intricate markings covering his arms and wrists. They looked…powerful, ancient. And a little bit terrifying.

"What are those, Harry?" Ron whispered, his voice hushed with awe. "Think they're some kind of Dark Magic?"

Harry shook his head, his gaze still fixed on Van Doren. He didn't know what those markings were, but he could feel the power emanating from them, a raw, untamed energy that sent a shiver down his spine.

He'd never understood Van Doren. The guy was a walking paradox - brilliant, cunning, ambitious, but with a darkness lurking beneath the surface, a ruthlessness that Harry had witnessed firsthand during the First Task.

And now, with those strange tattoos on display for all to see, Van Doren seemed even more dangerous, even more unpredictable.

The starting horn blared, cutting through the tense silence. Krum, now a fearsome half-shark creature, plunged into the water with a splash, disappearing beneath the surface. Fleur, encased in her shimmering bubble, followed close behind. Vincent without hesitation dived in.

Harry watched them go, his heart heavy with worry. He knew Hermione was down there, somewhere in the murky depths of the lake. And he had to get to her.

The moment the horn blared, I plunged into the icy depths of the Black Lake. The shock of the cold water was immediate, stealing my breath and sending a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. But the runes, humming beneath my skin, pulsed with a reassuring warmth, a counterpoint to the chill that threatened to engulf me.

I pushed off from the platform, my body cutting through the water with a speed and agility that surprised even me. Celeritas. The rune of speed. It was working. I felt like a torpedo, propelled through the murky depths, my senses heightened, my every movement precise and powerful.

The necklace I'd given Daphne for Christmas—a simple silver chain with a single pearl pendant—held a charm I'd crafted myself. It was linked to the silver ring I wore on my left hand, a subtle vibration pulsing through the metal as I drew closer to her. A magical homing beacon, guiding me through the darkness.

The lake was a world of shadows and whispers, the sunlight fading with every foot of depth. Fish darted away from my approach, their scales shimmering like silver coins in the gloom. Strange, tentacled plants swayed in the current, their fronds brushing against my skin like ghostly fingers.

The vibration in the ring intensified, a steady pulse that quickened my heart. I rounded a cluster of jagged rocks, their surfaces encrusted with barnacles, and there they were. Four figures, bound and unconscious, suspended in the murky water, their pale faces ghostly in the dim light. Hermione, Lavender Brown, Gabrielle Delacour, and… Daphne.

A group of merpeople, their silver scales gleaming, their expressions impassive, stood guard, their tridents held at the ready. They watched me approach, their cold, unblinking eyes assessing my every move. I ignored them, my focus fixed on Daphne.

I reached her side, the ring now vibrating with a frantic urgency. Drawing my wand, I sliced through the ropes that bound her ankles. I didn't bother with the other hostages. My task was to retrieve Daphne. And that's precisely what I intended to do.

I scooped her into my arms, her body light and limp against mine, her familiar scent a wave of warmth amidst the chill of the lake. I pushed off from the rocky bottom, my muscles straining as I propelled us upwards, the runes on my back tingling with a surge of power. Fortitudo. Strength. Endurance. I could feel it, a relentless force that pushed me onwards, upwards, towards the surface and the light.

I broke through the water, Daphne cradled in my arms,The roar of the crowd was deafening, a wave of sound that crashed over me as I swam towards the shore.

"He's got her! Van Doren's got Greengrass!" Bagman's voice boomed through the arena, his excitement barely contained. "And he's done it in record time! An incredible feat!"

I reached the wooden pier, hauling myself out of the water, Daphne still in my arms. The crowd surged forward, their faces a blur of excitement and awe. I ignored them, my focus fixed on Daphne.

"Daphne?" I murmured, my voice rough. "Wake up."

Daphne's POV

Consciousness returned in a hazy wave, the scent of pine and something uniquely him filling my senses. I felt a gentle hand brushing strands of wet hair from my face, a soothing warmth that chased away the lingering chill of the lake. I opened my eyes, my vision blurry at first, and found myself gazing into Vincent's intense blue eyes.

I was in his arms, cradled against his chest, his strong arms holding me securely. I felt safe, protected, a sensation that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

He was wearing a tank top, his lean, muscular arms on full display. A few scattered scars marked his skin, but what truly captivated me were the intricate tattoos that snaked across his arms and wrists. Runes. Powerful magic.

My fingers reached out, tracing the lines of the tattoos, their ink smooth and warm beneath my touch. He didn't flinch, his gaze holding mine, a silent acknowledgment of my boldness.

And then, without hesitation, I did something incredibly reckless, incredibly bold.

I kissed him.

Right there, in front of the entire school, in front of the judges, in front of the world. A long, lingering kiss that silenced the roaring crowd and sent a jolt of electricity through my very being.

This was my claim. My declaration.

Blaise's POV

"Well, I'll be damned," Blaise muttered, his jaw slack with disbelief. He nudged Theodore, who was staring at the spectacle unfolding on the pier with a rare expression of bewilderment.

"Did you see that, Nott?" Blaise exclaimed, a wide grin splitting his face. "Greengrass just marked her territory. Bold move."

Theodore, still speechless, could only nod.

Ron's POV

"Well, that's that, then," Ron said beside his brothers and other housemates, "Looks like Van Doren's officially off the market.".

Professor McGonagall's POV

Minerva McGonagall's lips twitched in amusement as Daphne Greengrass, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, kissed Vincent Van Doren with a boldness that surprised even her. The girl had spirit, she'd give her that.

"Well, Albus," she said, her gaze fixed on the young couple, "It seems Mr. Van Doren has found a… suitable… partner."

Dumbledore chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "Indeed, Minerva. A most… intriguing… development."

The rest of the Second Task proceeded as in the movies. Krum, despite his impressive transformation, arrived back with Lavender looking rather worse for wear. Fleur, her bubble charm having failed, was forced to withdraw from the task. And Harry managed to rescue both Hermione and Gabrielle.

But it was my victory, my record-breaking time, and Daphne's bold declaration that remained the talk of the castle long after the event had ended.

The whispers followed me like shadows, a constant hum of speculation and awe. The day after the Second Task, Hogwarts was abuzz, the students recounting every detail, every splash, every gasp of surprise. My record-breaking time, Harry's double rescue, Daphne's bold declaration on the pier - it was all anyone could talk about.

We even had a party in the slytherin common room, they were happy that I was the "official" Hogwarts champion.

But I was… otherwise occupied.

The Room of Requirement, ever accommodating, had transformed into a cozy haven, a sanctuary far removed from the prying eyes and wagging tongues of the castle. A crackling fireplace cast dancing shadows across the plush rugs and velvet drapes, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood and Daphne's perfume.

She was curled up on a chaise lounge, her silver dress shimmering in the firelight, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders like spun gold. I sat beside her, my arm around her waist, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare arm. We were… entangled, to put it mildly. Lips meeting in kisses, whispers lost in the warmth of our embrace.

Her boldness on the pier had surprised me, a spark of defiance that ignited something within me, a fierce possessiveness that I hadn't expected. Showing her the Room of Requirement was a gesture of trust, a glimpse into the hidden world where I honed my skills, where I plotted my strategies, where I allowed myself to be… vulnerable.

"What is this place, Vincent?" she murmured against my lips, her voice a breathy whisper that sent shivers down my spine.

"It's the Room of Requirement," I explained, my voice a low rumble against her skin. "It… provides… whatever you need. A training ground, a sanctuary, a hidden space where you can be yourself, away from the prying eyes of the world."

She tilted her head back, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. "It's incredible. How did you find it?"

"Let's just say I have a knack for finding… hidden things," I replied, my lips curving into a smile.

She traced the lines of the runes on my arm, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. "And these… tattoos. They're magical, aren't they? I can feel the power radiating from them."

"They're more than just tattoos, Daphne," I said, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're a part of me now. They enhance my magic, my strength, my senses. They make me… better."

She looked at me then, her gaze intense, a flicker of something akin to fear dancing in her eyes. "Better?" she echoed. "But… why?"

"Because the world is a dangerous place, Daphne," I said, my voice hardening. "And I intend to be ready for whatever comes next. I won't be caught off guard. I won't be weak."

I saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes, a recognition of the darkness that we both carried, the shared ambition that bound us together.

"I want to be stronger, Vincent," she said, her voice a soft but determined murmur. "I don't want to be… helpless. I want to be able to protect myself, to fight alongside you."

Her words struck a chord within me, a surge of admiration for her spirit, her willingness to embrace the darkness.

"I can help you, Daphne," I said, my voice a low rumble against her skin. "I can teach you what I know, push you to your limits, make you stronger than you ever thought possible."

As much as it pained me to break the spell that had woven itself around us, I gently pulled away, our lips parting with a soft sigh. We were losing focus, and I couldn't afford distractions. Not now.

"We can start with a training regimen," I said, my voice regaining its usual brisk efficiency. "Physical conditioning, spellwork, dueling practice. I'll push you hard, Daphne. But you'll come out of it stronger, more confident, more capable."

"I'm ready," she said, her blue eyes shining with determination. "What about spells? Can you teach me some of your… more… unconventional magic?"

I smirked, my fingers tracing the lines of the Potentia rune on my back. "There are certain spells, Daphne, that are best learned through experience. But I can teach you some… advanced… defensive and offensive charms. And you," I added, my gaze meeting hers, "You can teach me a thing or two about ancient rituals and forgotten lore. We can learn from each other."

A flicker of amusement danced in her eyes. "And what about Blaise and Theodore? Will you be sharing your… expertise… with them as well?"

"Of course," I replied, my tone casual. "They're my friends. I want them to be ready, too."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "I hope you don't plan on… sharing… with them the same way you're sharing with me?"

I laughed, her words catching me off guard. "Nah," I said, my voice laced with amusement. "They're not that pretty."

We both laughed, the sound echoing through the Room, a shared moment of lightness amidst the shadows that loomed over us. The Tournament, Voldemort, the world… they were all waiting. But for now, I allowed myself to get lost in the warmth of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, the knowledge that I wasn't alone in this fight.