Chapter 245
Fleur swam swiftly through the dark waters of the Black Lake. She had no idea what was happening behind her. After a while, the champions who had dived in could no longer sense each other's positions. They could only rely on their own sense of direction to find their way forward.
Her slender arms and legs cut through the water again and again, her movements smooth and graceful, like a mermaid. A large transparent bubble covered her head, filled with air, allowing her to breathe freely underwater for a long time. It also helped her keep her balance, making her movements feel lighter and more controlled.
She had mastered the Head Bubble Charm. After figuring out what the task might involve, she had practiced it over and over again. Now she could cast it with ease, and the bubble it produced was stable enough to last throughout the challenge.
The Black Lake lived up to its name. The water was far from clear, and visibility was extremely limited. Fleur's eyes moved constantly, but she could only see about ten feet around her. Every time she moved forward, a new scene unfolded—dense forests of tangled black aquatic plants, and stretches of sand scattered with glimmering pebbles. The gray water felt cold and lifeless, as though nothing truly lived within it.
After a while, the water gradually began to clear. More signs of life appeared. Small fish darted past her like flashes of silver. Her legs kicked faster as she picked up speed, swimming toward her chosen direction while carefully avoiding the thick plants and submerged driftwood.
Suddenly, several shadows appeared ahead, moving toward her.
Grindylows.
Fleur's gaze sharpened as she watched them cautiously. Then she moved closer, slowly, while shrinking the bubble around her head. Fighting underwater was nothing like fighting on land. On land, she could deal with a dozen of these horned creatures without effort—but here, they were far more troublesome.
She began to sing.
Her voice was soft and enchanting, carrying through the water in a way that seemed to transcend language itself. The Grindylows paused, their expressions turning dazed and entranced. Slowly, they drifted back, losing all interest in attacking her.
Fleur continued onward. Even now, her thoughts lingered on what the organizers might have taken from her.
Was it her favorite gown? Or the lipstick she had bought in the Muggle world?
I really liked that shade… If it's ruined by the water, I'll make sure they regret it.
Even while her thoughts wandered, her body never stopped moving. Then, suddenly, the surroundings changed. Rough stone huts appeared all around her, covered in patches of seaweed.
She looked closer—and saw them.
Merpeople.
Their iron-gray skin, tangled dark green hair, yellow eyes, and jagged yellow teeth gave them a savage appearance. Pebbles hung around their necks on thick ropes. They grinned at her as she swam past. Some even came out of their huts for a better look, gripping spears and slapping the water with their powerful silver tails.
Then Fleur's face suddenly turned pale.
She saw her sister.
There was no mistaking it—that cloud-like silver hair, that small, fragile figure.
At the center of what looked like a village square, several captives were tied to the tail of a crude stone statue of a merperson. Around it, a large group of merpeople hovered, some singing together in strange voices, as if calling the champions toward them.
Gabrielle's head drooped weakly to one side. Thin streams of bubbles escaped from her mouth.
Fleur forced herself to stay calm. She suppressed the urge to rush forward and rescue her immediately. The merpeople in front of her were clearly not friendly—any reckless move might provoke an attack.
So she moved carefully, slowly.
But even as she reached the statue, no one attacked her.
She raised her wand and whispered a spell. The thick ropes woven from water plants loosened at once, drifting away with the current.
The merpeople's mocking expressions vanished. They had clearly been enjoying her distress.
"Wake up! Gabrielle, wake up!"
Fleur pulled her sister close with one arm, her wand still moving rapidly in the other as she cast spell after spell, trying to rouse her. But Gabrielle's face remained pale, her eyes shut tight. Only her long lashes trembled faintly, as though she were caught in some terrible struggle.
"How do I wake her up?!"
Fleur's voice was sharp, fierce—like a mother protecting her child. She glared at the surrounding merpeople, demanding an answer. Her voice carried through the bubble and into the water.
"We don't care," the merpeople shouted back, retreating slightly. They seemed wary now, as if sensing something unstable in her.
Fleur's heart pounded.
What do I do? What do I do?
She looked down at Gabrielle again, panic rising in her chest. She had never imagined the task would be this cruel—using the person she cared about most as a hostage.
If anything happened to Gabrielle…
She couldn't even allow herself to finish that thought. She would never forgive herself.
Gabrielle's head was now inside the air bubble, but there was still no sign of her waking. Her breathing seemed to have stopped. Her face was turning an alarming shade of green.
Fleur's breath caught.
Then, suddenly, she remembered.
The booklet she had picked up that day.
"…If the drowning victim is unable to breathe, artificial respiration may be used…"
It didn't matter that it was a Muggle method.
If there was even the slightest chance it could work, she would try it.
She gently laid Gabrielle on a flat rock, cupped her face with both hands, and pressed her lips against hers.
Again and again, just as the booklet had described.
Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity.
One minute.
Two.
Just as despair began to take hold—
Gabrielle coughed.
A few mouthfuls of water spilled from her lips. Her lashes trembled again…
And then, slowly, she opened her eyes.