Before we start off, first, I've a little grump because seriously? I shouldn’t have to say this, people – treat internet authors better. If you wouldn’t say it to my face, don’t put it in the comments. They are not your personal grump-dumping ground. There is still a human being on the other side of this - a human being who doesn't remember the last time xe didn't have a headache. This is why I primarily post on AO3 because it gives me a lot of personal moderation power over my own work, and if you repeatedly post nasty comments I will block you or stop approving your comments. I will also show your comments to my friends and go 'hey look what this fuckwit said in my inbox, what an arse right?' And yes, this is prompted by one person in particular but it's not the first time and I doubt it'll be the last. Do better, most of you are grown adults.

Grump over. Continue with the story.

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The day of the second task dawned blustery and freezing, with heavy sleet beating against the castle walls, and Rhiannon woke to find a little bottle of Pepper-Up Potion sitting among her usual morning medication. She shivered, downed her medication and got dressed, then pocketed the potion, taking comfort from the warmth of the magic it radiated. Being a werewolf, Rhiannon had a higher body temperature than the average human and greater resistance to the cooler extremes of temperature – but Loch Dubh was frozen at the edges, and though she had become accustomed to the chill during Viktor’s swimming lessons, the potion would be a godsend.

Rhiannon sloped out of the dormitory and up the stairs to the common room. She was up early, most of her housemates were still asleep, but there was a small cluster of students huddled around the fireplace.

One of those was Cedric Diggory, and he shoved his armchair back to make space so that Rhiannon could join him. She was a little apprehensive – Cedric’s companions were the five other prefects of their house and Esther Lilley, a head student – but none of them seemed to mind as Rhiannon sat down on the floor beside Cedric’s chair. “Morning, Rhi,” Cedric greeted her with a wry expression. “You sleep at all?”

Wizards paid a little more attention to the movement of celestial bodies than nonmagical folk did, as the shifts influenced the strength and flow of their magic, so Cedric’s question had a second hidden meaning – how are you feeling with that full moon out there. Rhiannon grimaced and cracked her knuckles, provoking a wince from the older students. “Eh, no. Restless,” she replied wearily.

Cedric nodded – even without being a werewolf there was good reason to be restless, and that was a reason he shared. “Me too,” he agreed with a yawn. “Come to breakfast with us? I tried to go earlier but Pitts told me to fuck off, they’re probably ready by now.”

Mouna Demian, the other sixth-year prefect, raised an eyebrow and fiddled with the end of her Hufflepuff-yellow hijab. “Earlier? It’s early enough,” she commented reproachfully. “I feel like we should have to pay the elves if we go and bug them personally, more if it’s outside reasonable hours.”

Cedric flushed. “I put three Galleons in the kitchen jar,” he protested. Half the price of a wand, it was more than the elves would have seen in years – but still little more than a pittance, and they both knew it. S.P.E.A.R’s tip initiative was helping, but it wasn’t enough, and Rhiannon made a mental note of Mouna’s suggestion to pass on to Hermione at their next meeting. “And I apologised. Repeatedly. Now can we please go and get something to eat, I can’t have coffee on an empty stomach – and I need coffee to get through today,” Cedric added impatiently.

Rhiannon groaned wistfully – she had as bad a reaction to coffee as to chocolate, and normally that wasn’t such a burden but she’d barely slept and right now her stimulant intolerance felt like torture. “I could eat,” she agreed, trying not to sound too eager, but her stomach growled as fiercely as she ever could have and with a laugh, the prefects agreed that it was probably late enough that they could find breakfast and they shuffled out of the common room.

The delicious mingled smells of hearty breakfast food wafted through the castle, and Rhiannon had to hold herself back from sniffing the air with every step as they drew closer to the Great Hall. The sunlight filtering through the outer windows was thin and grey, and as they entered the hall itself the enchanted ceiling showed a sky that was much the same, heavy with clouds that warned of snow.

Remus waved a greeting from the faculty table at the front of the hall, looking decidedly worse for wear so close to the moon’s peak, and Rhiannon waved back before she, Cedric and the prefects found their way to a spot at the end of the Hufflepuff table. There were a handful of other students scattered around the hall, but overall the place was uncharacteristically quiet at this hour.

As they sat down at the table, Rhiannon realised all of a sudden that her stomach was in knots, and the smells of breakfast food that had been so appetising only minutes before now threatened to bring up bile in her throat. Cedric looked a little green himself, but he managed a wan smile and nudged Rhiannon’s fork closer to her. “We’ve got to last all day and through the lake, c’mon – you’ll need the fuel,” he said, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her.

Rhiannon groaned and rested her chin on the table, at eye level with her empty plate as if that would somehow make it less daunting. Rationally, she knew Cedric was right – and as a werewolf she had a faster metabolism than most humans, which meant no skipping meals. And she knew that her hunger would only add to her nausea if she tried to ignore it. But that didn’t make the prospect of eating any more enjoyable and she groaned in dismay as Cedric took her plate and filled it with eggs, hash browns, baked beans, sausages and bacon – all her usual favourites, and exactly the sort of filling fare she’d need to get through an hour in the frozen loch, and exactly the sort of thing liable to make her stomach rebel against her.

“Don’t wanna,” she protested, but a sideways look from Cedric told her that wasn’t going to fly.

“Me either,” Cedric replied frankly. “But if the dragon task taught us anything it’s that what we’re gonna be facing in a few hours will be deadly, we can’t afford to pass out in there.”

Rhiannon grimaced at the thought. After years of having been starved by the Dursleys she was pretty good at working through hunger, but she couldn’t afford that risk today – she couldn’t be a burden on the others, not any more than she already was. Begrudgingly she began to pick at her food, determined to eat all of it, and by the time she’d finished most of it the hall had filled with students. Some small good had come of the dragon challenge, she thought ruefully – the Hufflepuff students who had been cold to her at first now seemed to understand that this wasn’t something she’d have chosen and she smiled and nodded as most of her peers offered her a sheepishly friendly greeting in passing.

Soon, Rhiannon’s friends arrived, but to her consternation Ginny was alone, her brother nowhere in sight. “Everything okay?” she asked the stocky redhead, wondering if they were in a fight.

Ginny frowned and shrugged. “I think so? Honestly I was hoping you’d know more, he didn’t tell me anything – just didn’t come back to the common room last night,” they replied, fiddling with the green button pinned to the lapel of their cloak.

Sally-Anne, perched across the table beside Eloise and Tracey, frowned thoughtfully. “Neither did Nina,” she added, turning her gold pendant, shaped like a six-pointed star, over in her fingers as she considered the matter.

Rhiannon chewed her lip anxiously, her mind filling up with thoughts of the Petrifications in second year until Cedric shifted in his seat and set his plate aside, brows knitting together in consternation. “Actually, come to think of it... A runner came and fetched Sorcha yesterday while we were uh, studying, in the library,” he added.

A cold hand grasped Rhiannon’s guts and squeezed tightly, and the translated words of the Mérish rhyme played back in her head. While you're searching ponder this/We've taken what you'll sorely miss/An hour long you'll have to look/And to recover what we took/But past an hour, the prospect's black/Too late it's gone, it won't come back. Foolishly she had assumed that this meant another object retrieval task like the first. But now she began to think of another possibility, something much worse, and she cursed herself for being so naive.

“It-t-t-t- it’s the task,” Rhiannon burst out, stammering in the sudden rush of anger that flooded over her as she realised what was happening. “Th-th-th-th-th- fuckit- that’s wha’ they took, our friends an’ family – Dudley f’r me, Sorcha f’r you, I-i-i- I gues-s-s-s-s Nina for Viktor – they’ll’ve taken s-s-s-someone for Fleur too. We - we’re not finding things, we’re finding hostages.”

Cedric’s face cycled through a frightening rainbow of colours – first red, then purple, then a sickly greenish colour, until it all drained away and left him pale and shaking, diminished in his seat at the table. “Fleur’s family came to watch, they got in two days ago. She’s got a little sister. I’d bet anything the officials picked her,” he replied, his voice hoarse with rage.

In a grim, pragmatic sort of way, Rhiannon could understand why the tournament officials had taken their loved ones hostage. After the disaster of the first task that left only one of them unscathed, the officials must have been afraid the champions would band together and refuse to compete – and they couldn’t have a pesky thing like solidarity ruining their big international spectacle. Never mind that the Unbreakable Vow binding them into the tournament meant they couldn’t simply abandon the event... well, maybe the officials were worried that the champions would rather risk their own lives by their own choice than in the gladiatorial display of the tournament, and Rhiannon had to admit she’d considered it. Family, though – that had a way of reminding someone what they had to live for.

Now that they knew their families were at stake, there was no chance of rest or relaxation for the champions. Fleur arrived later that morning all feathers and fizzling anxious magic, confirming their suspicions that her sister had been taken hostage, and the four of them rattled around the castle at loose ends together, scaring off any younger student in their path with dark mutterings and crackling magic amplified by stress.

It was almost a relief when the castle clock struck noon and students flooded out of Hogwarts like water down a drain. Down, down, down to the lakeshore, Rhiannon and the other champions watched them go from the top of the hill. There would be another hour before the task started, time enough to make sure everyone had seats – time to hide the hostages in the loch itself, Rhiannon thought darkly.

“Surely they’ll be alright,” Cedric tried to reassure the other champions vainly as they stared down at the loch from the outskirts of the castle. “It’s all filmed and photographed, they wouldn’t get a twelve year-old girl killed in front of that much media.”

“Th-they almost got a f-f-f-ofourteen y’r-old killed, media or no,” Rhiannon replied tersely. She respected Cedric’s attempt to cheer them up, but wasn’t in any sort of mood for the attempt to work. “We can’t-t-t – can’t assume they’ve done anything t’ protect th’ hostages in case we fail. They might’ve, but f’r now – we have t’ take the rhyme at face value. We’ve an hour.”

Fleur nodded tersely. “They will have done something to protect the hostages for that hour, at least – my best guess would be some kind of suspended animation charm, and if my memory serves-”

“It’s the full moon and anything like that is g-g-g-gonna mess with Dudley,” Rhiannon interjected with a groan. “So we need a spare o’ Wolfsbane, assume it’s gonna be like that time I told you about wi’ the Polyjuice – or the Petrification, come t’ think ‘f it.”

“I feel like you two need to write a book,” Cedric drawled wryly. “About how not to werewolf. Just so nobody else has to break things quite the same way you have.”

Rhiannon snorted, amused despite herself. She liked the idea of such a project, and of getting to grow up to do it. “Ginny could illustrate it, their art’s brilliant,” she replied, but her heart twinged as she said so – Ginny made her think of Dudley, and right Dudley’s life was in danger. Then another thought occurred to her and she grabbed Cedric’s arm. “Ced, I’ve got a knife – Yule gift from my Dad. It’s enchanted, can pick locks and unknot ropes with it easy – if we’re rescuin’ hostages, we want it – an’ I doubt the lake floor’s clear either, probably weed forests everywhere, it seems sort’ve stupid to swim with no knife. But it’s back in the dormitory, can y’ help me get down there t’ fetch it?”

Viktor grunted in an affirmative sort of way. “It’s one of the first things they teach in diving classes – we don’t dive without a knife,” he agreed gruffly. “Many spells do not work correctly underwater, including the Severing Charm, and while we are planning to stick together I think it would be safest if we were all armed. We do not know what we will face down there and need to be able to free ourselves if we get split up and tangled.”

Cedric frowned. “I left my pocket knife at home and I’d assume that’s the sort of thing you weren’t allowed to bring on an international trip. I’ll help Rhi down to fetch hers, can you two get three sticks, say about the length of a forearm or a little shorter and as straight and sturdy as you can manage? I can Transfigure those into knives for us when I get back, or you can – I dunno if you know the charm is all, I wasn’t taught it at school.”

Viktor made a wry face. “I am very good at Transfiguration. I think I am quite capable of turning a stick into a diving knife even if I can’t see it,” he replied, his tone a little grumpy. “I am also better acquainted with the kind of knife you will need for this task.”

Cedric’s pale skin flushed red right to the tips of his ears and he ducked his head, fiddling with his robes as he re-ordered his thoughts. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” he responded after a few moments of contemplation.

Viktor grunted and waved a hand, indicating there was no real issue, and with that Cedric and Rhiannon set off into the castle and back to the Hufflepuff common room. The knife Sirius had given Rhiannon for Christmas was where she always kept it, under her pillow, though if she could she would have kept its sheath buckled flat against her forearm at all times. Come to think of it... “Celare,” Rhiannon muttered, and tapped her wand to the scarred leather knife-sheath as she tightened the buckle around her wrist. It shimmered, wobbled and vanished from view. She prodded at it experimentally, and frowned at the sensation – if she focused hard enough she could feel it there still, but the illusion was trying to convince her that there was nothing there. It would probably work on someone who hadn’t seen her work the charm, she mused thoughtfully as she packed her bathing costume and fins into her backpack.

“Hey Ced, can you test this for me?” Rhiannon asked, holding up her arm from where she sat perched on the end of the bed. “Just, grab my wrist.”

Cedric did so, his brows knitting together in confusion. “It’s a wrist. Kinda bony, kinda scarred – what am I testing exactly?” he replied.

Rhiannon grinned brightly and slipped her arm out of his grasp, then stood and stretched out her crackling knees. “Localised con-c-c-onc-concealment charm,” she explained quickly, taking Cedric’s arm and leaning on it heavily as they climbed the stairs again. “It’s the same kinda thing I use on my scars, I figured it wouldn’t be that hard to ad-d-d-d-d-da-da-adapt it t’ hide m’ knife. If I do a bit ‘f readin’, run a couple o’ tests, I could prob’ly figure out a rune to bind the spell to so it stays up while I’m asleep.”

Cedric’s muscles jumped and he made a soft disapproving sort of sound. “Not to get in the way of your budding magical brilliance or anything,” he began, his tone an equal mix of wry humour and caution, “but that doesn’t sound... Healthy, exactly. Whether you’re using it as a tool or a weapon, I dunno... you’re not fighting a war, you’re at school. You’ve got to be able to put it down sometimes.”

Rhiannon smiled, the expression crooked and weary, and she found her thoughts turning to Peter Pettigrew and the dream that had frightened her awake that hot summer night on the first of July, of fire and screams and smoke. Maybe Cedric was right, and she wasn’t a soldier. But something told her that someday soon she might have to become one, and that day was drawing nearer. Maybe her dream had been nonsense – she’d never been any good at Divination – but even if it was... Pettigrew had escaped, that was fact. And someone who did have a gift for Divination had said he intended to bring Voldemort back. Rhiannon had no faith in the Ministry to find him before he succeeded, so for now... for now she was a gladiator bound to a spectacle and if she survived that, it was only a matter of time before she had to fight the real war that was bearing down on them all.

“I’ll take unhealthy o’er dead,” Rhiannon replied shortly, shaking herself free from her dark reverie as they stepped out into the brisk, chilly bluster that howled through the castle towers.

Cedric had no response for that, and an uncomfortable silence grew between them until they reached Fleur and Viktor standing at the crest of the hill overlooking the loch. They had seen barely any other students on their hike through the castle, and now they were outside again Rhiannon could see why. The stands constructed by the lakeside seethed with human activity, and a quick look back at the Astronomy tower clock told them they had only another twenty minutes or so until the challenge began.

Hearing their approach, Viktor turned to them and held out a long knife hilt-first for Cedric to take. It wasn’t a perfect Transfiguration – the shape was accurate, but it didn’t reflect light the way metal usually did and all parts of it were formed from the same slate-coloured material that Rhiannon doubted had any match in the natural world, but as Cedric took it and tested it against his thumb she could tell it certainly functioned like a knife should. The blade was about twelve centimetres long, one side smooth and curving to the tip while the other was serrated along the straight section and with an angled point down to a sharp narrow tip well-suited for sliding through tight-knotted rope. The handle was about the same length as the blade, solid and shaped to fit a hand easily with a short crosspiece formed from the hilt section, and Cedric conjured a scabbard for it from the air around them so that he might secure it more safely.

“You were right – I’d have had no idea what kind of knife to make,” Cedric commented affably as he slid the knife into the conjured scabbard.

Viktor grinned wolfishly. “No, you would not,” he agreed cheerfully. “The point is good for undoing knots and the serrated section can work like a saw if you need it to. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to go and get my friend out of that lake – she hates the cold.”

Rhiannon snorted, amused despite herself as she recalled the time Nina had nearly cooked herself, Rhiannon and Hermione in an attempt to warm them all up. “G-g-go-go-good idea,” she repliedcheerfully, and let go of Cedric’s arm so that she could link arms with Fleur. “I know y’ hate water but – if-f-f- if you don’t make it, one of us will. We’ll get your sister outta there. Nob-b-bo-bo-body gets left behind, you all taught me that,” she murmured.

Fleur managed a wobbly smile and squeezed Rhiannon’s arm affectionately. “Thanks, Rhi,” she replied, her voice hoarse. Feathers prickled along her arms, easily felt through the thin wool of her light coat, and she extended one wing to shelter Rhiannon from the wind as they made their meandering way down the icy hillside toward the lake.

Just as there had been for the first task, there was a large dull purple tent set up beside a smaller white one, and the four champions breathed a collective sigh of relief as they pushed their way into the purple tent and found the interior warm and welcoming. There were armchairs, towels and warm blankets scattered about inside, evidently intended for the champions when they returned from the lake, and on either side of the interior space was a small section divided from the main interior that Rhiannon guessed would be used for changing. With about fifteen minutes left to go, the champions split from eachother and Fleur half carried Rhiannon across the uneven floor to the changing room.

The tent interior was enchanted to be warmer than the world outside, but it wasn’t that warm – there was too much risk of shock if the temperature difference was made any greater. It was a more pleasant temperature to undress in than it would have been outdoors, but not by much, and Rhiannon shivered as she pulled off her clothes and threw on her swimsuit as quickly as she could. There was a full length mirror in the middle of the room that Rhiannon had studiously avoided looking at, but now that she was dressed she stood and took in her appearance.

The swimsuit Fleur had helped Rhiannon choose was flattering, long-sleeved and short-skirted like a dancer’s leotard, black with an iridescent shimmer and scale details in the fabric – it reminded her a little of the Hebridean Black and she found that she liked the idea of wearing something like her enemy’s skin. Her black-threaded silver hair had grown out some more since the Yule Ball with the aid of Hermione’s potions, and now curled around her shoulders in stark contrast to the hematite-toned fabric. Luna was right, Rhiannon reflected a little whimsically – it was a striking look, but not a bad one, and dressed as she was now Rhiannon could almost mistake herself for beautiful. The beauty one saw in a well-wrought blade or a lion on the hunt rather than the kind one would expect in a young woman, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Pssssst!”

A sharp hiss startled Rhiannon from her mirror-gazing reverie. “Wha-? Who’s’ere?” she mumbled, her very tongue feeling thick and clumsy with nerves as the heavy imminent threat of the second task crashed back down onto her shoulders.

There was a rasping, prickling sensation in the air like the edge of a knife when tested against a thumb, and then a sharp zzzzriiiip as a straight rent was torn swiftly through the side of the tent. The torn canvas was pushed aside and Rhiannon had only a moment to step back and gather her thoughts before a tall, dark-skinned figure barreled through the gap and bundled her into a tight hug, followed by an even taller blonde figure who moved at a more sedate pace. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know we just saw you at breakfast but – we couldn’t just let you go into the task without wishing you luck!” Hermione exclaimed, her voice muffled in Rhiannon’s hair.

Fleur spluttered a little indignantly from her spot over in the corner, and Rhiannon flushed with embarrassment as she remembered they were still in a changing room. Hermione sprang away and fiddled with her nails in embarrassment. “You are lucky I was finished dressing,” Fleur grumbled, but her lips were twisted in an affectionately wry smile that suggested she wasn’t as upset as she pretended. She straightened a twisted shoulder-strap on her swimsuit, adjusted her towel and left the room, humming quietly to herself. The message was clear – make the most of it while you can, and Rhiannon intended to do just that.

Luna let the tent flap fall closed and sealed the tear with a whispered reparo, but turned down Rhiannon’s offer of a hug with an uncomfortable shake of xir head. “No, um – no hugs, not today, I’m sorry – I’m too nervous and it makes me want to claw my skin off when I’m like this,” xe murmured apologetically. “But – we did bring you this. Knights carried their lovers’ favours in tournaments, and this is kind of like that, so – here,” xe added hastily. From xir pocket xe drew out a ribbon, deep royal blue satin with a gold stripe down each outer edge.

“We figured, blue and gold are two colours your vision doesn’t mess up even on full moons,” Hermione explained as Luna passed her the ribbon and she gently turned Rhiannon around by the shoulders so that she could use the ribbon to tie the smaller girl’s fluffy mass of curls back in a low ponytail. “It’s not charmed or anything – we considered it but thought they might not let you in the task with a magic item.”

Rhiannon grimaced – she hadn’t actually thought of that, her knife was probably a violation of the rules and she was doubly glad she’d concealed it. But she liked the idea of carrying a favour from her partners – Rita Skeeter was sure to say something nasty about it but it made her smile to think of carrying her partners’ love for her into danger. And a knight was a step up from a gladiator even if the change was only in her imagination. “Thank-you, both of you,” she murmured, turning back to face them and taking one each of their hands in each of her own.

Then it occurred to Rhiannon that she had forgotten to fetch extra Wolfsbane, and the pleasant warmth that had risen in her cheeks drained away abruptly. “Um – I hate t’ cut this short but – we think there’s a good chance whate’er they’ve done t’ the hostages is gonna mess with Dudley,” Rhiannon explained quickly. “Can you tell Mi- Headmaster McGonagall and Hagrid, an’ ask Hagrid to stand by with some Wolfsbane for when we come out? I dunno, it’s just a hunch, but – after secon’ year, no such thing ‘s too careful about werewolf stuff. I don’t know how it’s gonna go, I dunno if we’re gonna be able to keep from gettin’ outed, but – I jus’, want him t’ be safe.”

Lesser people might have pointed out that were Dudley to turn, even partially, the people around him would be in more danger than he himself. But Luna and Hermione were the very best people and made no such comments. “’Course we will,” Luna replied with a tiny smile. “But you need to promise to come back to us. Just like before.” Xir pale grey eyes filled with tears behind the blue-violet lenses of xir glasses and xe stepped forward and pulled Rhiannon into an impulsive, messy, tear-stained kiss. In it was all of their shared grief and fear, as well as the love they had for eachother, and Rhiannon remembered then that her partners had both seen people die, in Luna’s case someone xe loved.

“I’ve got my knife, my wand – and th-th-th-e – the other three champions, we’ve all got eachother’s backs,” Rhiannon tried to reassure them both. “I promise – I’m going to come back.”

“You better come back,” Hermione whispered fiercely, tears spilling out from behind her glasses. “I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet, Rhiannon Black.”

“Th-th-then- this isn’t goodbye,” Rhiannon replied firmly. A madcap wistful thought floated across her mind, the image of three hands – one pale with blue veins and chewed nails, one deep ochre and criss-crossed with scars and the third a warm umber – bound together with braids of ribbons in an array of rainbow colours. She smiled to herself, and made another promise – she was going to live to see that day for real. “This isn’t goodbye,” she repeated again. “I’ll s-s-s-sss-see you at the finish, an’ we’ll give Rita Skeeter somethin’ to really talk about.”

There wasn’t a lot to say after that, having resolved not to say goodbye. They exchanged kisses and wiped eachother’s tears away, putting off their parting as long as they could, but eventually the bell rang that announced five minutes until the task began and they could procrastinate no longer. Luna cut another hole in the tent wall to let them out, and Rhiannon sealed it behind them with a sigh before she pulled her towel closer around herself and limped out of the changing room into the main tent.

It was more good luck than good management that the scruffy blond official – Ludo Bagman, she recalled belatedly - entered the tent at the same time as Rhiannon did, keeping the other champions from making any embarrassing comments. “Champions, good, you’re all ready,” Bagman addressed them briskly. “I can only hope you all solved the egg puzzle by now and prepared accordingly..?”

The champions all mumbled a begrudging chorus of agreement that yes, they had solved the puzzle, and Bagman clapped his hands together delightedly. “Excellent, excellent, you’re a bright lot alright. Now, as the clue said, you have an hour to complete the task. Points will be deducted for every minute overtime, as well as for injuries as in the previous task. One hostage each, teamwork is technically permitted but not encouraged. You may distract or delay other champions, as this is in part a race, but intentionally lethal methods will face legal consequences... other than that, no holds barred!” he announced briskly.

Rhiannon and Fleur shared a brief moment of eye contact, and Cedric stepped pointedly closer to Viktor in a protective sort of manner, his shoulders hunched and one hand on the knife at his belt. They did not see eachother as rivals, if they ever did – they had a common enemy and right now that was the timer on the task. “We understand,” Viktor spoke for them all. “Let us begin.”