"Vanya Krum is taking the lead, showing incredible power as he navigates the dense kelp forests! Delacour is close behind, showing surprising agility! And Throne is... wait, where is Throne? Ah, there she is, battling a Grindylow near the old ruins! But folks, the question on everyone's mind is... where is our fourth champion? Where has Echo disappeared to?"
The announcer paused for dramatic effect, scanning the magical screens. Suddenly, the feed on the far right flickered. Instead of the murky depths or a struggling champion, the image cleared to reveal a secluded, luminous underwater grotto, lit by glowing crystals embedded in the rock walls.
And there they were.
Echo and Skate were entangled in a passionate embrace, Skate pressing Echo back against a smooth rock formation, kissing him with a fierce, hungry intensity that made the earlier kiss at the dock look like a polite peck on the cheek. Echo, for his part, seemed to be enjoying every second, his hands resting on her waist, his eyes closed in bliss. Every eye in the stadium, from the first years to the Ministry officials, was glued to that screen. The silence was deafening.
"Oh," the announcer said, his voice strangely small over the loudspeakers. "Oh, I... I didn't actually mean that."
On the screen, Skate pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire. She lowered her hands, her intentions clear and definitely not appropriate for a school tournament broadcast. Echo gently caught her wrists, a look of flustered panic crossing his face.
"Skate, no," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the water but still audible. "We shouldn't... It's too soon. We're too young."
Skate ignored him, leaning in to trail her sharp teeth down the sensitive gills on Echo's neck.
Echo's resistance crumbled instantly. He let out a soft, defeated groan, his head falling back against the rock. "Okay," he whispered, his voice weak. "Maybe just a little..."
Up in the stands, the crowd's reaction to the intimate scene in the grotto was immediate and electric. A collective gasp rippled through the spectators, followed by a wave of hushed, scandalized whispers that quickly swelled into excited chatter. The Veela contingent, predictably, was delighted. They leaned forward in their seats, their beautiful faces alight with rapturous smiles, cooing softly at the screen.
"Oh, look at that passion!" one sighed, fanning herself dramatically. "Such fire! Such danger!"
"It is like a fairy tale," another whispered dreamily, her eyes shining. "Forbidden love beneath the waves... how tragic! How romantic!"
Their soft, melodic murmurs of approval drifted through the air, adding a surreal, enchanting soundtrack to the unfolding drama. However, not everyone shared their enthusiasm.
Empusa sat rigid in her seat, her knuckles white as she gripped the railing. Her face was a mask of pure, venomous fury. She stared at the screen, her dark eyes burning with jealousy as she watched Skate press Echo back against the rocks, her sharp teeth teasing his neck.
A low, guttural growl vibrated in Empusa's throat. She snatched a rag from her pocket—a piece of silk she had been nervously twisting since the task began—and bit down on it hard, her jaw clenching with enough force to tear the fabric.
Why is it always her? she thought, her mind a whirlwind of frustration and desire. Why that... that slimy, cold-blooded fish? It should be me down there! It should be me pressing him against the rocks, me making him look at me with that desperate, panicked heat!
She imagined herself in the grotto, her own hands on Echo, her own lips claiming him. The fantasy was vivid, intoxicating... and agonizingly distant. With a savage jerk, she ripped the rag from her mouth, spitting out a frayed thread.
"Stupid fish," she hissed under her breath, her voice dripping with malice. "Just you wait. One day... one day he'll realize that warm blood is better than cold water. And it'll happen sooner than you think," as she patted the love potion in her pocket.
Before the crowd could witness anything further, Minerva McGonagall's voice cut through the air like a whip crack. "KILL THE FEED! TURN IT OFF NOW!"
The announcer fumbled with his wand, panic evident in his movements. But before he could act, Echo, on the screen, suddenly stiffened. He pulled away from Skate, looking around the grotto with a familiar, suspicious frown.
"Why am I getting that same feeling again?" he muttered.
His gaze slowly turned, locking directly onto the invisible magical sensor broadcasting their intimate moment to the world. His eyes widened in shock, the sapphire-blue in his hair flashing to a horrified electric violet.
"PERVERTS!" he yelled, pointing his wand directly at the 'camera'.
With a sharp incantation, a blast of red light erupted from his wand. The screen exploded into static before going completely black, leaving the crowd reeling in a mixture of shock, scandalized whispers, and nervous laughter.
Back in the grotto, Echo lowered his wand, the red light fading from the water. He let out a long, frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair, which was slowly settling back to a disappointed gray.
"Well," he groaned, looking at a visibly annoyed Skate. "There goes the mood. Now what?"
Skate, her irritation at the interruption slowly fading, swam closer to Echo, her movements fluid and graceful. She traced the line of his jaw with a cool, webbed finger. "I suppose that ruined the moment," she said, her voice a soft, underwater murmur. "But perhaps... a distraction is in order?"
Echo raised an eyebrow, the electric violet in his hair softening to a curious blue. "A distraction?"
"The treasures," Skate said, gesturing vaguely towards the deeper part of the lake where the merfolk city lay. "The ones the surface dwellers made such a fuss about. Don't you want to see what they are?"
Echo considered this, floating lazily on his back. "Now that you mention it," he mused, "I am a bit curious. I don't really hold any inanimate object in high enough regard to be considered a 'treasure'. My friends, you... My creatures... those are the only things I truly value. But only a fool with a death wish would try to steal one of those and stick them at the bottom of a lake."
Skate smirked, taking his hand. "Then come. Let's go see what your 'treasure' is."
She led him through the water, their tails moving in unison. The water grew darker as they descended, the light from the surface fading to a distant glimmer. As they swam, a sleek form darted past them in the distance—Lucian Delacour, propelled by his Veela magic. He didn't seem to notice them, his focus entirely on the depths ahead.
Skate's grip on Echo's hand tightened slightly. "Is that one of the ones who hurt you?" she asked, her voice laced with a protective edge.
Echo shook his head. "No, that's just Lucian. He's... alright. A bit nosy, perhaps, but not bad."
They continued on, the silence of the deep broken only by the swish of their tails. Suddenly, a commotion ahead caught their attention. In a clearing amongst the kelp forests, Vanya Krum and Seraphia Throne were engaged in a fierce battle with a swarm of Grindylows. Spells flashed in the water, illuminating the pale, frantic faces of the water demons.
Skate stopped, her eyes narrowing as she watched the struggle. "Is that them?" she hissed, her voice vibrating with anger.
"Yes," Echo confirmed, his voice flat. He placed a hand on her arm, holding her back as she made to dart forward. "Don't. It's not worth it."
"But they hurt you," Skate argued, her tail twitching in agitation.
"I know," Echo said, weariness creeping into his tone. "And I've already dealt with them in my own way. Right now... I'm just too tired. I don't care about them anymore. I just want peace."
Skate looked at him, searching his face. The gray in his hair was steady, a testament to his exhaustion. Slowly, she nodded, though she continued to glare at the two champions as they finally drove off the last of the Grindylows and swam on.
Soon, the towering spires of the mermaid kingdom came into view, carved from dark rock and adorned with glowing coral and luminescent shells. Merfolk swam to greet them, their voices a melodic chorus of welcome for their princess and her betrothed. As they swam through the city, they passed a large, fenced-in area that looked surprisingly like an animal enclosure. Inside, strange, five-legged creatures were shuffling along the sandy bottom.
Echo blinked in surprise. "I didn't know merfolk raised livestock," he commented. "Considering how hard it would be to cage fish in open water."
Skate smiled proudly. "We found something we don't need to herd. They can't swim well, only run along the bottom."
Echo swam closer for a better look, and his eyes widened. They were giant, walking starfish—the very same creatures he and Alice had accidentally created in a botched attempt at an enlarging potion. The ones he thought had been eradicated to save the lake's ecosystem.
"What is all this?" he asked, pointing at the enclosure.
"One of the hunters kept a few pieces instead of eating them," Skate explained. "Let them regenerate. Turns out, they're not dangerous if contained. They only need a tall fence. And since they're bottom feeders, keeping them fed is easy. Butchering them is the hard part; their hide is tough, but we don't need many individuals since their limbs regenerate." She grinned. "Besides, they are delicious."
Echo chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm glad my group's mistake made a new food source for you all."
Leaving the starfish farm behind, Skate led him to a large, open square in the center of the city. There, tethered to a massive stone statue of a merfolk king, were four figures floating like macabre balloons, unconscious and swaying gently in the current.
Echo stared, his jaw dropping. "The treasures... are people?" he whispered. "That's... brutal. I wonder who they are."
He swam over to the line of captives, examining them one by one.
"Some girl from Beauxbatons I don't know," he muttered, passing a young girl with silvery-blonde hair. "Some guy from Durmstrang I don't know," he continued, glancing at a boy with a sullen expression even in sleep. "Some girl from Hogwarts I still don't know..." He paused at a girl with Hufflepuff robes. Then he reached the last figure. "And Frank Longbottom."
Echo froze, staring at the boy's familiar, round face, peaceful in his enchanted sleep. "FRANK!" he yelled, the sound bubbling in the water.
Back on the surface, the magical screen, which had reactivated after Echo's earlier outburst, displayed the scene in crystal clarity. The crowd gasped as the identity of the fourth hostage was revealed. And in the stands, Alice Fortescue, who had been white-knuckling the railing since the start of the task, let out a scream of mingled relief and terror.
"FRANK!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "THAT'S WHERE HE'S BEEN!"
Echo reached out, his webbed fingers gently touching Frank's cheek. The boy's skin was pale and unnervingly cold to the touch. Frank didn't stir, his eyes closed in a deep, enchanted slumber.
"He's freezing," Echo murmured, his voice tight with concern. "Like ice."
In the stands, Alice let out a choked sob, tears streaming down her face as she watched the magnified image on the screen. The sight of Frank, pale and unresponsive, was a nightmare made real. Echo frowned, his hand moving from Frank's cheek to his neck, pressing two fingers against the carotid artery. He waited. And waited.
"Uh-oh," Echo said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "No pulse."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Alice let out a wail of pure despair, burying her face into Lily's shoulder, unable to watch. Lily held her tight, her own face pale with shock. On the screen, Echo's expression shifted from concern to panic. With frantic movements, he ripped open Frank's robes, exposing the boy's chest to the cold water. He pressed his finned ear directly against Frank's heart, closing his eyes in intense concentration. Seconds ticked by, agonizingly slow. The entire stadium held its breath.
Finally, Echo let out a long, shuddering sigh, his shoulders sagging. "Okay," he breathed, relief washing over his face. "Okay. It's faint, really faint, but it's there. He's alive. Just... in some kind of hibernation stasis."
In the stands, Alice's head shot up, her tear-streaked face crumpled with overwhelming relief. She sagged against Lily, her legs weak.
But on the screen, Echo's relief was rapidly morphing into something else entirely. His brow furrowed, his jaw tightened, and the sapphire blue in his hair began to darken, shot through with streaks of angry, burning crimson. He glared up towards the surface, towards the judges' booth.
"I bet Dumbledore is the one responsible for this," Echo snarled, his voice rising in fury. "Freezing a student half to death for a stupid game? When I get back up on the surface, I'm going to—"
BZZZT!
The magical audio feed abruptly cut out, leaving Echo mouthing furiously silent words on the screen.
The announcer's voice, sounding slightly strained but striving for professional cheerfulness, boomed over the loudspeakers. "Ahem! And I'm sure no one here wants to hear the champion's... ah... colorful and descriptive language regarding the tournament organizers at this particular moment! Moving on..."
While Echo's tirade continued silently on the screen, his gestures becoming increasingly erratic and animated, the announcer tried to fill the dead air.
"Wow," the announcer commented, a hint of genuine awe in his voice as Echo vigorously mimed what looked like feeding someone to a Hungarian Horntail. "He's... still going. That is some stamina for indignation. And judging by the hand motions, it must be exceptionally graphic. Perhaps involving... dragon dung? Or possibly a bludger?"
On the screen, Echo suddenly stopped. He took a deep breath, the angry crimson in his hair fading back to a resigned, weary gray. He ran a hand over his face, his expression shifting from rage to defeat. He said something, his mouth moving slowly and calmly.
"Ah," the announcer said, relieved. "It seems the storm has passed. Let's see what our champion has to say now."
With a flick of a wand, the audio crackled back to life.
"Okay," Echo's voice came through clear and resigned. "You know what? You win, Dumbledore. You slick, manipulative bastard. You want me to participate in this stupid thing? Then fine." He gestured towards the unconscious Frank. "You were smart to use someone from my friend group. Because if it had been anyone else, I would have left them down here to be eaten without a second thought." He paused, a flicker of dark humor crossing his face. "And honestly, if I had known it was Frank beforehand, I would've just asked the mermaids to do all the work for me and not even batted an eye or felt bad about it. Saved myself the swim."
A ripple of mixed reactions swept through the crowd. Some gasped at the callousness regarding the 'anyone else', while others—mostly the Slytherins—chuckled at the pragmatic honesty about using the mermaids. Alice, however, just looked relieved that her boyfriend was apparently worth saving.
Back in the water, Echo turned his attention fully to Frank. "Right," he muttered to himself. "Let's hope I remember how to do this."
He took a deep, sharp breath, his chest expanding. Then, he exhaled forcefully, shaping his mouth into a tight 'O'. A large, shimmering bubble emerged from his lips... and promptly popped with a wet plip. Echo frowned. He tried again. Inhale. Exhale. Pop.
"Dammit," he hissed, frustration creeping back into his voice. He tried a third time, concentrating hard. A wobbly, misshapen bubble formed, drifted an inch, and burst. He looked over at Skate, his expression pleading. "A little help?"
Skate giggled, swimming closer. "You did very well, considering you haven't practiced bubble-head charms much," she teased gently.
She leaned in, pursing her lips. With effortless grace, she blew a perfect, large, iridescent bubble that floated from her mouth. She guided it carefully through the water until it enveloped Frank's head, sealing around his neck with a soft glow. The water inside the bubble drained away instantly, replaced by fresh air. Frank took a sudden, deep breath in his sleep, his color improving slightly.
"Show off," Echo grumbled, though his eyes were warm with gratitude. He swam over to Frank, grabbed his shoulders, and gave him a vigorous shake.
"Frank," Echo said, his voice muffled but urgent. "Wake up. Come on, wake up."
Frank's eyes snapped open, wide and disoriented. He saw the shimmering, scaled creature hovering over him, the sharp teeth, the wild hair, and the gills on its neck. He immediately started thrashing against his bonds, a muffled scream escaping his lips inside the bubble.
"Ah! Mermaid!"
Echo winced, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Whoa, easy! Calm down, Frank! It's me! It's Echo!"
Frank froze mid-thrash, blinking rapidly. He squinted through the bubble, staring at the mer-creature's face. Slowly, recognition dawned in his eyes.
"Echo?" he asked, his voice sounding tinny inside the bubble.
Echo nodded, relieved. "Yeah, it's me."
Frank looked around wildly, taking in the underwater city, the merfolk swimming in the distance, and the fact that he was tied to a statue at the bottom of a lake.
"What's going on?" he asked, panic creeping into his voice. "Where am I? Is this that weird dream again? If so, where's Alice?"
Echo opened his mouth to explain the situation, then paused, a frown creasing his brow. "Wait. What weird dream? And why am I in them?"
Frank froze again, his eyes widening slightly. He stared at Echo for a long moment, then suddenly shot him finger guns, forcing a laugh. "Kidding!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. "Just kidding! I got you good, didn't I?"
Echo gave him a long, skeptical look, his eyebrow raised. "Right," he said slowly, clearly not buying it. "Well, long story short, you're currently the main event in the Triwizard Tournament."
Frank looked down at his bonds, then at the watery expanse around him. "Is that why I'm tied up underwater?"
"You're a 'treasure'," Echo explained, using air quotes. "To be found and rescued." He gestured to the other unconscious figures tied next to Frank. "Along with them."
Frank looked over at the other three captives, his eyes widening in horror. "Are they...?"
"No," Echo interrupted quickly. "They're alive just like you were. Asleep. The other champions should be coming to collect them any minute now."
"Ah, speak of the devil fish," Echo muttered, nodding towards the gloom. "Here they come now."
Vanya Krum was the first to arrive, her partially transformed shark-head ripping through the water with terrifying speed. She ignored Echo entirely, her black, soulless eyes fixed only on her target. With a swift, brutal slash of her wand, she severed the ropes binding the unconscious Durmstrang boy. She grabbed the limp figure roughly by the arm and shot back towards the surface without a backward glance.
Next came Lucian Delacour. The Veela magic shimmering around him seemed to dim slightly as he approached the grim tableau. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on Echo's transformed state with a mixture of curiosity and something that looked surprisingly like respect. He gave a small, courtly nod—a silent acknowledgment of one magical creature to another—before gently cutting the ropes binding the young girl from Beauxbatons. He cradled her protectively against his chest and began his ascent, his movements fluid and elegant.
Seraphia Throne arrived last. She looked exhausted, her Bubble-Head Charm flickering slightly. She glared at Echo with open hostility, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as if expecting him to attack her at any moment. Keeping her wand trained on him, she hurriedly sliced through the bonds of the Hogwarts girl and dragged her away, kicking her legs frantically to put as much distance between herself and the 'monster' as possible.
Frank watched them go, then turned back to Echo, bewildered. "Wait... why didn't you just do that?" he asked, gesturing to the retreating champions. "Cut me loose and drag me up?"
Echo sighed, running a hand through his gray hair. "Honestly? I was worried about you. You looked... dead. Like, properly dead. I didn't want to risk moving you until I knew you were okay. And besides..." He smirked. "I figured you'd want to save yourself. Be the hero of your own story for once."
Frank blinked. "Save myself?"
"There's more than enough air in that bubble to get you to the surface," Echo pointed out. "Just kick your legs and float up. Easy peasy."
Frank looked up at the distant, shimmering surface, then back at Echo. "Are you... not coming?"
Echo shook his head, leaning back against the statue of the merfolk king. "Nah. I think I'm going to stay down here for a while longer. It's quiet. Peaceful. No Dumbledore, no Ministry, no screaming people, no people." He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Clear my head and all that. Maybe do some... mermaid smoothing."
Frank rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked past Echo's shoulder. "Hey, Skate," he said, his voice muffled by the bubble. "Good to see you again. Tell him not to do anything too stupid, yeah?" He looked back at Echo. "Look, I can make it to the surface, but... do you mind cutting me free first?"
Echo laughed, swimming closer. "Right. Forgot about that minor detail."
He opened his mouth, revealing rows of sharp, needle-like teeth, and leaned in towards the thick ropes binding Frank's ankle. Just as his jaws were about to clamp down, a sudden, piercing sound tore through the water. It was a high-pitched, frantic trilling, coming from every direction at once. The melodious welcome chorus of the merfolk had shattered into a chaotic dissonance of pure panic.
Echo recoiled, his head snapping up. Around them, the merfolk were scattering, abandoning their tasks and fleeing towards the safety of their rock dwellings. Even the guards at the starfish enclosure were swimming away in a blur of motion.
Frank, sensing the shift in atmosphere even through his bubble, looked around nervously. "What? What's happening?"
Echo's eyes darted, scanning the murky gloom. The sapphire blue in his hair was gone, replaced by an alert, electric yellow. "Something's here," he said, his voice low and tense. "Something big. Something dangerous."
"It's a lake, Echo," Frank pointed out, his voice trembling slightly. "There's always something in the water. Grindylows, the giant squid..."
"No," Echo cut him off, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the city lights. "Mermaids aren't scared of squids or Grindylows. They hunt them. This... this is different. They're terrified. That doesn't happen often."
"What could possibly scare a mermaid?" Frank asked, his eyes wide.
Skate, who had been frozen beside Echo, suddenly pointed a shaking hand towards the outer edge of the city. "There!" she cried.
Emerging from the shadows like a gray torpedo was a massive, sleek shape. It moved with a terrifying, purposeful power, its blunt snout and broad body unmistakable even in the dim light. It wasn't just big; it was enormous, easily twelve feet long, with a thick, muscular build that spoke of pure, unadulterated aggression.
Echo's eyes widened, the yellow in his hair flashing to a stark, terrified white. "Bull Shark!" he shouted.
Frank stared at the creature, his brain struggling to process the information. "A shark?" he squeaked. "In a lake? How the hell did a shark get into a Scottish lake?"
"Underground tunnels!" Echo yelled, positioning himself between Frank and the approaching predator. "They connect the lake to the ocean! Sometimes things wander in!"
The shark, sensing movement, turned its head. Its black, soulless eyes locked onto the group. It didn't hesitate. With a powerful flick of its tail, it accelerated, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Frank, realizing he was a tied-up buffet, thrashed wildly against his bonds, bubbles of panic erupting from his mouth. "Get me out! Get me out!"
"Frank, stop!" Echo roared, grabbing Frank's shoulders. "Stop thrashing! You're acting like distressed prey! You're drawing it right to us!"
But it was too late. The bull shark, a creature of pure instinct, had sensed the frantic vibrations in the water. To its primal brain, Frank was no longer just an object; he was a struggling, easy meal. The shark's movements sharpened, its speed increasing as it zeroed in on the helpless boy.
Echo saw the shift in the shark's demeanor. He knew they had seconds. He turned to Skate, his expression fierce.
"Skate!" he commanded, shoving Frank towards her. "Cut him loose! Get him to the surface! Now!"
"But Echo—" Skate started, reaching for her jagged coral knife.
"GO!" Echo shouted, pushing off the statue and swimming directly into the path of the charging shark. "I'll hold it off!"
He didn't have time to cast a complex spell, and a shark this size would shrug off a simple Stunner. He needed a distraction. A violent one. Echo closed his eyes for a split second, reaching out with his mind, past the lake, past the grounds, straight into the dark corners of the Room of Requirement where his secret aquarium was hidden. He pictured the creature—small, vicious, and fiercely loyal.
CRACK!
The muffled sound of an underwater apparition vibrated through the water. Beside Echo, a small, pale green creature materialized. It was a Grindylow, slightly larger than average, wearing a small collar made of woven sea-grass.
"Grippy! Attack!" Echo commanded, his voice projecting through the water.
The Grindylow, Grippy, didn't hesitate. Seeing the massive predator, it let out a gurgling shriek of aggression and launched itself forward like a green dart. It latched onto the Bull Shark's flank, its long, spindly fingers digging into the tough, sandpaper-like skin.
The shark thrashed, surprised by the sudden assault. It spun in a tight circle, trying to dislodge the hitchhiker, snapping its jaws wildly. Echo seized the opportunity. He raised his wand, the water around the tip glowing with unstable energy.
"Depulso!"
A shockwave of force hammered into the shark, knocking it sideways. But the beast was pure muscle and rage. It recovered instantly, shaking Grippy off with a violent shudder that sent the Grindylow tumbling through the water. Ignoring the small pest, the shark locked its dead, black eyes back onto Echo. It smelled the magic, the threat. And now, it was angry. It surged forward, a gray blur of teeth and death.
Echo tried to swim up, to dodge, but he wasn't as fast as a creature born to kill. The shark's jaws opened wide. Echo threw his arm up in a desperate attempt to shield his throat.
CRUNCH.
Agony exploded in Echo's left shoulder. The shark's teeth tore through his scales and flesh, clamping down with bone-crushing force. A cloud of red blood instantly bloomed in the water, blinding and dark. Echo screamed, a trail of bubbles escaping his lips, as the shark shook him violently, dragging him down.
"ECHO!" Frank's muffled voice screamed from his bubble.
Skate froze, horror etched on her face, her knife dropping from her hand.
But Grippy wasn't done. The Grindylow recovered its senses and saw its master in the jaws of the beast. With a shriek of pure fury, it shot back into the fray. This time, it didn't go for the flank. It went for the face. Grippy latched onto the shark's snout, its long, brittle fingers jamming ruthlessly into the shark's sensitive gills and gouging at its eyes.
The shark convulsed, the pain sharp and immediate. Its jaws sprang open instinctively. Echo was thrown free, tumbling backward, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He gasped, sucking in water, his vision swimming from the pain. The shark, blinded and furious, thrashed wildly to dislodge the Grindylow, finally managing to smash Grippy against a rock pillar. The Grindylow went limp, floating dazed in the current.
The shark turned back to Echo. It was bleeding from its gills, maddened by pain and the scent of Echo's blood. It aligned itself for the final strike, its tail moving with lethal precision. There was no time to dodge. No time to heal.
Echo, floating in a cloud of his own blood, stared down the charging monster. He didn't raise his wand. He didn't try to swim. Instead, he brought his webbed fingers to his lips and blew. A shrill, piercing whistle cut through the water, a sound not of air, but of magic—a high-frequency signal that vibrated deep in the chest of every living thing in the vicinity.
The shark didn't care. It opened its jaws, inches away from Echo's legs. Then the world beneath them shifted. From the black abyss beneath the mermaid city, a shadow darker than the deep rose up. It was swift, silent, and colossal.
A tentacle, thick as an oak tree and studded with suckers the size of dinner plates, shot out of the gloom. It wrapped around the Bull Shark's midsection with a sickeningly wet thud. The shark's momentum stopped instantly. It thrashed, biting at the rubbery flesh, but it was like a minnow fighting a python.
Echo floated still, watching as the Giant Squid—the true queen of the Black Lake—slowly emerged from the darkness, its massive beak clicking in anticipation. The squid's giant, saucer-like eye fixed momentarily on Echo, acknowledging the summon, before it dragged the struggling, terrified shark down into the crushing dark.
The shark disappeared into the abyss, its thrashing form vanishing into the black. Silence returned to the underwater city, broken only by the settling silt and the faint, terrified whimpers coming from Frank's bubble.
Echo let out a long breath, clutching his mangled shoulder, the water around him still tinged pink. "Good boy," he whispered into the deep.
Skate, reacting to Echo's earlier frantic command, had already grabbed Frank by the arm and was towing him upwards with desperate speed. Frank, pale and shaken inside his bubble, looked back one last time at the cloud of blood dissipating in the water below, his eyes wide with horror.
They broke the surface with a splash. Frank gasped as the bubble popped, the cool air filling his lungs. He was immediately grasped by strong hands and pulled onto the floating dock. As he scrambled to his feet, coughing up water he hadn't actually swallowed, a figure rushed toward him.
"Frank!" Alice cried out, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug, her body trembling with relief. "You're safe!"
Almost instantly, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were there as well, their faces etched with concern. McGonagall gently pulled Alice back.
"Mr. Longbottom!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Are you alright? Are you injured?"
"I'm fine!" Frank sputtered, pushing their hands away gently but urgently. He pointed frantically at the water. "I'm fine! But Echo... Echo's in trouble! There was a shark! A massive shark! It bit him!"
A collective gasp went through the crowd. The professors exchanged alarmed glances. Dumbledore, who had been watching the screen intently, leaned forward, his expression grave.
Back in the depths, the scene was one of frantic activity. The Giant Squid had retreated with its prize, leaving the water eerily still. Skate had shot back down the moment Frank was safe, her face a mask of terror. She found Echo floating near the statue, clutching his shoulder, his face pale and drawn, the water around him still pink.
She let out a high, keen cry, a sound that summoned every mermaid in the vicinity. Within seconds, Echo was surrounded. Mer-healers swam forward, their hands glowing with soft, healing magic as they pressed poultices of seaweed and crushed shells onto the ragged wound. The bleeding slowed, then stopped, the flesh beginning to knit together under their skilled care.
Skate wrapped her arms around Echo's uninjured side, burying her face in his neck, her body trembling against his. She peppered his face with frantic, desperate kisses—his cheek, his forehead, his jaw—as if trying to reassure herself he was still there, still whole.
"You idiot!" she sobbed against his skin, her voice thick with emotion. "You stupid, reckless idiot! What were you thinking? Going up against a Bull Shark alone? You could have been killed!"
Echo winced as a healer applied a stinging paste to his shoulder, but he didn't pull away from Skate. He rested his head against hers, his eyes closed.
"I wasn't thinking," he murmured, his voice rough but steady. "Not about me, anyway. I wasn't thinking about the consequences to myself." He opened his eyes, looking at her, then at the distant surface where Frank was now safe. "I was just thinking about what would happen to my treasures... to you, to Frank... if that swimming trash can managed to get its jaws on you." He gave a weak, tired smile. "I couldn't let that happen. Not to the things I actually care about."
Skate pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. Her expression softened, the anger melting away into pure, overwhelming love. She brushed a strand of hair from his face, her touch gentle.
"You really are a fool," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, slow and deep. "But you're my fool."
Echo leaned into the kiss, letting the warmth of her affection wash away the lingering pain in his shoulder and the icy chill of the deep water. Around them, the merfolk watched with respectful silence, the healers finishing their work and stepping back. Even Grippy, who had recovered from his collision with the rock, swam over, chirping proudly and puffing out his small chest, clearly demanding recognition for his heroic face-mauling.
Echo broke the kiss gently, reaching out with his good arm to ruffle the Grindylow's head spikes. "Yes, yes, you're very brave, Grippy. You'll get extra snails later."
On the surface, the announcer's voice boomed over the hushed crowd, finally breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the stands. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am relieved to announce that all 'treasures' have been successfully retrieved and are safe on the dock! Furthermore, three of our four champions have returned unscathed from the depths!"
He paused, gesturing dramatically toward the massive magical screen shimmering above the lake. "And, despite a truly horrific encounter with a Bull Shark that left many of us breathless, it appears our missing champion and resident shark-brawler has come out the other end alive! Now, surely, it is only a matter of time before he gathers enough strength to return to the surface to receive medical attention."
On the screen, Echo, still surrounded by the solicitous merfolk, suddenly looked up. His gaze locked unerringly onto the invisible sensor, his expression shifting from pained exhaustion to defiant annoyance.
"Just for anyone who is still watching me like a creep," Echo said, his voice clear despite the water, "I am not coming out of the lake. And you can't make me."
As if to punctuate his statement, Skate swam close and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, wrapping her arms possessively around his waist. The other merfolk swirled happily around them, a protective and jubilant school of fish shielding one of their own.
The announcer coughed awkwardly into his wand. "Ah. Never mind. It seems our champion is... much more at ease with the merfolk at the moment."
High above in the judges' booth, the mood was equally charged. Igor Karkaroff scoffed, leaning back in his velvet chair with a sneer. "Once again, Albus, your champion remains indignant, refusing to act like a proper participant. Hiding at the bottom of a lake like a petulant child... it is embarrassing."
Madame Maxime turned on him, her dark eyes flashing. "He is thirteen years old, Igor! He is under massive pressure, and a shark just attacked him! Speaking of which," she pressed a hand to her chest, her voice softening, "I almost felt my heart stop when I saw it bite him. He really is quite something... taking on a creature so dangerous for the ones he loves. Most grown wizards would have fled."
Karkaroff waved a dismissive hand. "His love is preferential. He only risked himself because his... paramour and his friend were threatened."
Albus Dumbledore, who had been watching the screen with a serene expression, finally spoke. "Isn't all love preferential to some extent, Igor?" He turned to look at the Durmstrang headmaster, his blue eyes piercing. "And I must agree with Maxime. His bravery was undeniable." He smiled slightly, a mischievous twinkle returning to his gaze. "However, do not worry yourself, Igor. This is not the first time Echo has decided to put himself at the bottom of the lake to avoid the world. We do have a... method to fish him up."
Dumbledore stood up, smoothing his robes with a calm, deliberate motion. He drew the Elder Wand, its knobby wood humming with power. He didn't need a complex incantation for this; it was a simple, albeit powerful, variation of Accio, specifically modified for retrieval from bodies of liquid—a true fisherman's spell. He visualized the target: a grumpy, transformed teenage boy with a sapphire tail, currently sulking at the bottom of the lake.
"Piscator Eruo," Dumbledore whispered, giving his wand a sharp, upward flick.
Seventy feet below the surface, Echo was just getting comfortable again, settling back against the statue with Skate curled up on his chest. He closed his eyes, ready to ignore the surface world for the next few hours. Suddenly, his tail twitched. Then, it floated upward, as if attached to an invisible balloon.
Echo frowned, opening one eye. "What the...?"
He tried to push his tail back down, but an irresistible force yanked it higher. His torso followed, dragging him off the lake bed. Panic flared in his eyes. He knew this feeling. He knew exactly what was happening.
"Oh, not again!" Echo shouted, the sound bubbling furiously in the water.
Skate, realizing he was being taken, lunged forward and grabbed his hands. "Echo!"
"Help me!" Echo yelled, thrashing his arms as he was inverted, his tail pointing straight for the surface. "They're fishing me up!"
Grippy, the Grindylow, shrieked and latched onto Echo's left wrist. Two other mermaids grabbed his shoulders, and another grabbed his waist. For a second, it was a tug-of-war between the most powerful wizard in the world and a cluster of determined magical creatures.
But the spell was absolute. With a sudden, violent WOOSH, Echo was ripped upward. The mermaids holding his waist and shoulders lost their grip, tumbling back into the silt. But Skate and Grippy held on for dear life. The surface of the Black Lake exploded.
Like a prize catch being hoisted onto a dock, Echo breached the water tail-first, soaring fifteen feet into the air. He hung there, suspended upside down by his shimmering tail, water cascading off his scales. Hanging desperately from his outstretched hands were a fully grown mermaid princess and a terrified, flailing Grindylow.
The crowd, which had been silent with awe just moments before, erupted into laughter. It was an absurd, cartoonish sight—the powerful champion, dangling like a wet sock, with his entourage clinging to him like barnacles. Echo twisted in the magical grip, his face red with blood rushing to his head and sheer indignation.
"Put me down!" Echo bellowed, his voice echoing across the lake. "You always do this! Every time I try to relax in a body of water, someone fishes me out! And I am so sick of it!"
He glared at the judges' booth, shaking his joined hands with Skate to emphasize his point. Skate hissed at the crowd, while Grippy just spat a stream of water at the nearest student.
"I didn't want to come up!" Echo ranted, thrashing uselessly. "I had plans! Big plans! I was going to do some serious mermaid smoothing! And I have a meal scheduled with my future mother-in-law! Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation with the Queen? It's been too long since I visited her, and I have absolutely no good reason to be putting it off for this long! Now I'm going to look rude!"
With a gentle, controlled descent, Dumbledore lowered the entire sputtering, indignant chain—Echo, Skate, and Grippy—down from their mid-air suspension directly onto the wide, carpeted balcony of the judges' booth. They landed in a wet, disorganized heap.
Echo landed on his back, his tail flopping uselessly on the expensive rug. Skate landed gracefully on top of him, her tail coiling protectively. Grippy landed on his face, shrieked, and immediately scuttled under Karkaroff's chair, hissing at anyone who looked at him.
Echo groaned, pushing wet hair out of his face. He looked up to find Dumbledore smiling benignly down at him, flanked by a horrified Karkaroff and an amused Madame Maxime.
"Welcome back to dry land, my boy," Dumbledore said cheerfully, as if he hadn't just forcibly extracted a student from a lake like a stubborn weed. "I do hope you enjoyed your little excursion, but alas, the event has concluded. All champions must return to the surface for scoring."
Echo glared up at him, his face a mask of teenage rebellion mixed with genuine exhaustion. "I wasn't excursioning, Professor. I was leaving. There's a difference. One implies I'm coming back. The other implies I'm finding a new address that doesn't include 'Hogwarts' in the postal code."
Dumbledore chuckled softly, ignoring the comment. He turned his gaze to Skate, who was currently glaring daggers at him, her chest heaving, water dripping from her hair onto the polished wood floor.
"And Princess Skate," Dumbledore said, bowing slightly. "A pleasure to see you again. However, I'm afraid Mr. Echo must remain here on the surface where he belongs. He has obligations, responsibilities... and, if I recall correctly, a rather important Transfiguration exam this coming Monday that he needs to prepare for." He gestured towards the lake. "But fear not, I shall return you to your aquatic home immediately."
Skate stared at him. The sheer audacity of this surface-dweller. Telling her where her betrothed belonged? Telling her he had a test?
She didn't speak. She didn't argue. Her eyes narrowed into slits of pure, predatory irritation. With a speed that belied her aquatic nature, she lunged forward, her powerful tail propelling her across the short distance. Her hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Dumbledore's long, silver beard.
"My Echo," she hissed.
And with a grunt of exertion, she heaved. Dumbledore's eyes widened in genuine surprise—a rare sight indeed. He stumbled forward, pulled off balance by the unexpected assault on his facial hair. Before he could raise his wand, Skate used her momentum to swing him around and, with a final, powerful shove, tossed the Headmaster of Hogwarts clean over the railing of the judges' booth.
"Albus!" Madame Maxime gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth.
Karkaroff looked like he might faint from shock. Or joy. It was hard to tell.
Echo, still on the floor, watched Dumbledore sail over the edge with wide eyes. He winced as the colorful robes disappeared from view, followed a second later by a muffled shout from the crowd below and a soft, bouncy THUMP.
"Spongify!" Dumbledore's voice drifted up from the chaos below, sounding slightly breathless but unharmed.
Skate, unbothered by her act of regicide, used her momentum to flop onto the railing, balancing precariously on her tail. She reached down, grabbed Echo by the front of his nonexistent shirt (which was just his bare chest now), and hauled him upright, setting him down gently on the inside of the booth, safe from the edge.
She patted his cheek, leaving a wet smear. "There," she said firmly. "Safe." Then she turned back to the balcony edge and hissed aggressively at the spot where Dumbledore had vanished.
Just as Skate hissed over the balcony, the door to the judges' booth—the one Echo had smashed through earlier—burst open again. The two Aurors stationed outside rushed in, wands drawn, their faces masks of professional alarm. They took in the scene: the wet, half-naked champion on the floor who looked like a merflok, the snarling mermaid princess on the railing, and the conspicuous absence of Albus Dumbledore.
"What is the meaning of this?" one Auror barked, leveling his wand at Skate.
Igor Karkaroff, seeing reinforcements and eager to regain some semblance of control (and dignity), seized the moment. He whipped out his own wand, his face twisted in a sneer of righteous fury. "This creature just assaulted the Supreme Mugwump!" Karkaroff roared. "Subdue it!" He didn't wait for the Aurors. With a sharp slash of his wand, he fired a Stunning Spell directly at Skate's back. The red jet of light hit her squarely between the shoulder blades.
Typically, merfolk possess no inherent resistance to wizard magic. A spell like that should have crumpled her instantly. But Skate was not typical. She was royalty, fueled by adrenaline, protective rage, and the sheer, unadulterated stubbornness that had drawn Echo to her in the first place. She didn't fall. She merely flinched, her muscles locking up for a split second before releasing.
Slowly, terrifyingly, she turned her head. Her neck craned back, her vertebrae popping audibly, until her dark, furious eyes locked onto Karkaroff. She looked less like a stunned creature and more like an annoyed deity.
Echo, still sprawled on the wet carpet, sucked air through his teeth in a sharp hiss. "Oooooh, Headmaster Beardy," he winced, shaking his head slowly. "You really shouldn't have done that."
Skate let out a sound that wasn't Mermish, wasn't human, and certainly wasn't ladylike. It was a guttural, vibrating shriek, like grinding rocks and tearing metal. She launched herself off the railing, her powerful tail propelling her through the air like a missile.
Down on the floating dock, the other three champions—dripping wet and shivering in their towels—looked up at the judges' booth, where the sounds of shattering wood and terrified shouting were growing louder.
Vanya Krum, ringing out her hair, smirked. "For the 'greatest wizard of the age', your Headmaster seems remarkably... fragile," she commented to Seraphia. "Taken by surprise by a single mermaid? Weak."
Seraphia rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Piss off, Krum," she snapped, wrapping her towel tighter. "If Dumbledore had been ready, he could have taken on an army of mermaids and your pretentious Headmaster with one hand tied behind his back. He was just... being polite. Probably."
Suddenly, two figures were hurled out of the booth's open front. The two Aurors plummeted towards the lake, flailing wildly. Just before they hit the water, they managed to cast Cushioning Charms on themselves, bouncing off the surface like skipped stones before splashing down safely, albeit ignominiously.
Lucian Delacour squinted up at the chaos. "Is that... your Headmaster screaming like a little girl?" he asked Vanya, pointing a long finger.
High above, Karkaroff was indeed screaming. He was cowering behind a shimmering Protego shield as Skate, wielding a heavy, torn-off wooden support pillar like a club, rained blow after blow down upon him.
SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!
Each impact shuddered through the shield, forcing Karkaroff to his knees.
Vanya's smirk vanished, replaced by genuine shock. "I... I have never seen him like this," she murmured. "He usually deals with magical creatures quite... decisively."
"Echo sure likes to live dangerously," Lucian mused, watching the debris rain down into the lake.
"You have no idea," Seraphia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Dating him is an extreme sport. Just being his friend requires hazardous duty pay."
Suddenly, Lucian gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. "Mon Dieu! She has Madame Maxime!"
Skate, having temporarily bored of battering Karkaroff's shield, had turned her attention to the only other obstacle in the room. She had lifted the immense half-giantess, Madame Maxime, clean off her feet. With a roar of exertion, Skate hefted the Beauxbatons Headmistress over her head like a rag doll and tossed her over the railing. Maxime shrieked, her ample robes billowing as she fell. But luck, or perhaps fate, was on her side. Hagrid, who had been watching the events from the dock below with increasing anxiety, stepped forward, his massive arms outstretched.
"I gotcha, Olympe!"
Maxime landed in Hagrid's arms with a heavy OOF. Hagrid staggered but held firm, his knees buckling only slightly under the weight.
"Yeh alright there, Olympe?" Hagrid asked, his beetle-black eyes wide with concern.
Maxime, winded and shell-shocked, clung to Hagrid's neck, her face buried in his mole-skin coat. "Oh, Hagrid!" she breathed, her voice trembling. "Merci! Merci beaucoup! That creature... she has monstrous strength and anger!"
Lucian Delacour, having watched the entire spectacle unfold—the Headmasters being tossed like salad, the Aurors skipping across the lake, and the mud bombardment—wiped a splatter of particularly foul-smelling algae from his cheek. He looked up at the triumphant, screaming mermaid on the balcony, then turned to Vanya and Seraphia, his expression one of mild, shell-shocked reconsideration.
"You know," Lucian said, his voice thoughtful as he watched Skate hurl another piece of furniture into the lake, "I think I liked her better when she had legs and was wearing a dress at the Yule Ball. She was... significantly less violent then. And threw fewer people."
Up in the booth, the "monster" was celebrating. Skate hopped back onto the balcony railing, balancing effortlessly on her tail. She threw her head back and let out a piercing, triumphant war cry that echoed across the grounds.
A moment later, the water of the Black Lake churned. Dozens of merfolk surfaced, their hands filled with dense, wet spheres of lake-bottom mud. On Skate's signal, they launched their ammunition. It was a barrage. Balls of cold, stinking, fishy muck rained down on the panicked onlookers in the stands. Students shrieked and scattered, slipping on the slick benches as they tried to escape the slimy assault.
Skate stood tall amidst the chaos, screaming her victory to the sky, a warrior queen surveying her conquered battlefield. And behind her, leaning over the broken railing, was Echo. He wasn't watching the fleeing students or the mud-splattered dignitaries. He was looking up at Skate, his eyes wide, his expression one of utter, lovesick devotion. He looked at her as if she had just hung the moon and the stars, completely unaware—or perhaps entirely uncaring—that his girlfriend had just assaulted three Headmasters, two Aurors, and started a small riot.
"She's perfect," Echo sighed happily, resting his chin on his hand.