**DISCONTINUED**
What everyone says about Amelia Milev isn't true. She's not some dangerous, I'm going to attack you if you talk to me, type person. Sometimes she is, but that's not something she can control... you can't control what's in your blood.
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xvi. sweet dreams ˚. ⊹ . ✵❨february, 1995 ❩ "the girl with two selves..."
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☾
IF HARRY DOESN'T die Ron will be ridiculously surprised. Sure he's strong or whatever. Some might say he's an alright wizard too and Ron won't disagree. Is he smart though? Not at all. He can barely even come up with an answer when someone asks him how his day was. So, no one is believing this whole 'I'll figure it out' shit. He'd have to be a bloody genius to figure out how to breathe underwater.
Oh, and by the way, Harry finally figured out the whole egg thing. He had to put it underwater and then it sang to him... He's not gonna lie, Ron's not entirely convinced that his friend isn't drunk or something. So, allegedly, Harry's got to get something out of the Great Lake, or at least that's what Hermione's decided the egg meant.
Now, it's making its way towards eleven o'clock at night and they've skipped tea to help Harry out like they're psychopaths or something. All evening, the group of fourth-years have been sitting at a massive table in the library, desperately searching through spellbooks. Harry, Hermione, and Ron have been up later than this in the library before, but it's never been this stressful. Hermione keeps yelling at them to go faster or to switch to a different book. She and Harry are determined to find something, while Ron and Millie are ready to go get their tea and hope Harry can hold his breath for an hour tomorrow.
"I'm not gonna lie, mate, I don't reckon it can be done," Ron announces, shutting the book he's been flicking through. "There's nothing. Closest was some spell to dry up puddles and ponds, a Drought Charm, but that's nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake."
Hermione shakes her head, pulling her candle closer to the three books she has open in front of her, "There must be something. They'd never have set a task that was undoable."
"Well, they have," replies Ron, shutting his eyes a little while he leans back in his seat. "Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate."
