The Girl Who Lived

Task Two

"Know what you're going to do, Heather?" Ludo Bagman asked me.
I nodded my head.
We were standing next to the judges table. Percy was filling in for Crouch- who didn't show up. Again.
Bagman gave my shoulder a quick squeeze and returned to the judges' table; he pointed his wand at his throat and said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.
"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!"
The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, I pulled off my shoes and socks, pulled the handful of gillyweed out of my pocket, stuffed it into my mouth, and waded out into the lake.
The water was like a million ice crystals clinging to my legs. In other words, I was numb within seconds. My robes weighed me down as I walked in deeper; now the water was over my knees, and my numb feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. I was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as I could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water I stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen.
I could hear laughter in the crowd and knew I must look stupid, walking into the lake without showing any sign of magical power. The part of me that was still dry was covered in goose bumps; half immersed in the icy water, a cruel breeze lifting my hair, I started to shiver violently. I avoided looking at the stands; the laughter was becoming louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the Slytherins. . . .
Then, quite suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I tried to draw breath, but it made my head spin; my lungs were empty, and I suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of my neck —
I clapped my hands around my throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air. . . . I had gills. I actually had gills. It worked. Then, without thinking, I flung myself into the lake.
The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. My head had stopped spinning; I took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through my gills, sending oxygen back to my brain. I stretched out his hands in front of me and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. I twisted around and looked at my bare feet — they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too: It looked as though I had sprouted flippers.
The water didn't feel icy anymore either. The flipper things helped me propel myself quickly through the water. The water was dark and murky. I could only see ten feet in front of me.
Small fish flickered past me like silver darts. Once or twice I thought I saw something larger moving ahead of me, but when I got nearer, I discovered it was nothing but an extremely oversized  log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, Gin — nor, thankfully, the giant squid.
And then, without warning, something grabbed hold of my ankle.
Let me tell you, whatever had grabbed me had really really sharp class or nails or whatever you call them.
I twisted my body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around my leg, its pointed fangs bared — I stuck his webbed hand quickly inside my robes and fumbled for my wand. By the time I had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of my robes, and were attempting to drag me down.
"Relashio!" I shouted, except that no sound came out. . . . A large bubble issued from my mouth, and my wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. I pulled my ankle out of the grindylows grip and swam, as fast as I could, occasionally sending more jets of hot water over my shoulder at random; every now and then I felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, and I kicked out, hard; finally, I felt my foot connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while its fellows shook their fists at me and sank back into the weed.
About time, i think.
"How are you getting on?"
My heart skipped a beat. I whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating hazily in front of me, gazing at me through her thick, pearly glasses.
"Myrtle!" I tried to shout.
"You want to try over there!" she said, pointing. "I won't come with you. . . . I don't like them much, they always chase me when I get too close. . . ."
I gave her the thumbs-up to show my thanks and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher over the weed to avoid any more grindylows that might be lurking there.
I smiled to myself. I knew she had a huge crush on Harry, which was awkward.
I swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. I was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. Then, at long last, I heard a snatch of haunting mersong.