The morning of the Second Task dawned steel-grey and bitterly cold.
The Black Lake lay unnaturally still, its surface stretched taut beneath a skin of frost that cracked and hissed as warming charms were cast along the shoreline. Stands rose in careful arcs, packed with students wrapped in scarves and anticipation. Judges took their places. Professors gathered, wands ready.
Harry stood at the water's edge, bare hands curling and uncurling at his sides.
He was calm.
Not the brittle calm of forced bravery, but the steady quiet of someone who knew exactly what waited below.
Ginny hovered close, face pale. "You'll be alright," she said, voice rough. "Won't you?"
Harry smiled faintly. "Yes."
It was not reassurance.
It was certainty.
The whistle blew.
Harry stepped forward, and did not dive.
Instead, he drew a slow breath and let go.
Magic and spirit moved together, seamlessly. His bones stretched, reknit. Skin deepened to ocean-blue, muscle layering upon muscle with liquid grace. Gills opened along his neck, flaring once as air gave way to water.
A collective gasp tore through the stands.
Harry rose where the boy had stood, towering, broad-shouldered, his water-clan Animagus form standing well over nine feet tall. His tail swept the air behind him, powerful and balanced, bioluminescent markings pulsing faintly beneath his skin.
For the first time, the audience understood.
This was not a trick.
This was a being shaped by another world.
Without a backward glance, Harry stepped into the lake and vanished beneath the surface.
The water welcomed him.
Cold barely registered. Sound faded into layered vibrations, heartbeats of the lake, distant creatures stirring, the soft pulse of magic woven into the depths. He moved with effortless speed, tail driving him forward in long, controlled strokes.
He found them quickly.
Ron, Hermione, Gabrielle, Cho, bound but unharmed, watched over by merfolk who regarded Harry with wide, assessing eyes. The lake recognized him, even if its people did not.
Harry untied them with careful hands, guiding them upward in controlled stages, shielding them from pressure changes with instinctive magic woven through his movements.
He did not rush.
He did not panic.
When he broke the surface at last, children and champions in tow, the roar from the stands shook the air.
Harry waded ashore, water streaming from him in sheets, towering over the judges as he gently set the hostages down.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then applause erupted, wild, thunderous, unrestrained.
Gryffindor Tower exploded into celebration that night.
Butterbeer flowed. Fireworks, both magical and improvised, lit the common room ceiling. Someone enchanted the furniture to rearrange itself into a dance floor. Even Hermione laughed freely, relief softening her edges.
Harry endured it all with quiet smiles and steady presence, accepting congratulations with nods and clasped forearms.
He did not stay long.
The summons came just after midnight.
Dumbledore's office felt warmer than usual.
Sirius Black lounged near the window, grin sharp and eyes alight the moment Harry entered. Remus Lupin stood beside him, expression gentler but no less intent.
"You swam like a bloody legend," Sirius said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.
Remus smiled. "And you frightened half the staff."
Dumbledore gestured to the Pensieve without preamble. "I thought it only fair," he said, "that those who love you should understand."
Harry nodded and released the memory.
Pandora unfolded again, this time the sea, the war, the loss. Sirius went still almost immediately, bravado stripped away. Remus watched with the focus of a scholar and the heart of a guardian, eyes darkening with each passing moment.
When it ended, silence held.
Sirius exhaled slowly. "You shouldn't have had to carry that alone."
Harry met his gaze. "I didn't."
Remus's brow furrowed, thoughtful. "Dumbledore," he said quietly. "There's a pattern."
Dumbledore inclined his head.
"Harry returned to Pandora before the First Task," Remus continued. "Again before the Second. Each time, the challenge grows more complex."
He looked at Harry, not with fear, but with understanding.
"If the pattern holds," Remus said, "then he may be called again before the Third Task."
The room settled into contemplative silence.
And far away, something ancient listened, and waited.