A/N: Hey all. I know it's been a while, honestly it's been a tough year for me and I'm still dealing with too many things. Activity is still going to be sporadic but I promise I haven't abandoned Rhiannon until I say I have, and I keep an author's journal on my AO3 where I generally post life updates when I feel guilty about not updating in ages. I'm not super happy with this chapter in places, I feel like I'm out of practice and I was pushing through a lot of clunkiness but, better finish it and get unstuck so I can move on to something else than just sit there being stuck until it's magically perfect, right? Anyway - I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I'm SO sorry it took this long.

The officials protested the medical intervention as anyone could have predicted, but Madam Pomfrey was not to be trifled with and under threat of legal action they bowed to her will and the time was paused on the task while the three remaining champions were treated for decompression sickness and the fourth fought for her life. It felt like it was all too soon and yet not soon enough that Rhiannon, Viktor and Cedric were released back into the task – but this time, they knew what awaited them beneath the rippling grey surface.

Back underwater, Rhiannon took a moment to reapply her bubble and filtering charms while Cedric took a new handful of Gillyweed and Viktor once again reshaped himself into the part-shark hybrid form he had used to navigate as well as breathe. Now that they knew to look for it, the champions could see the Devils’ Snare in the depths – every so often it moved against the current, distinguishing it from the more ordinary lakeweed that reached up from the lake floor.

“Missiculum Viktor – we’r-r-r-r- we’re short on time, can you track down th’ song again? We’re gonna want t’ stay high in the water til we’re clear ‘f the Snare though,” Rhiannon murmured.

As before, Viktor was unable to respond verbally, but he turned back and signalled with a hand gesture that he’d heard, and set off through the water. Following, Rhiannon could hear the song now as well – but she certainly couldn’t pinpoint its source as clearly as Viktor could. The words had changed now, chilling all three of them as deeply as the water itself ever could... your time’s half gone, so tarry not, lest what you seek stays here to rot... The message could not have been clearer and they struck out with renewed strength.

Once they had passed the forest of Devils’ Snare masquerading as lakeweed, the champions began to descend into the murky depths of the lake, wands lit and senses alert for new dangers as Viktor tracked the song onwards and the rest of them followed him. Thin, scattered sunlight reflected off of half-seen surfaces below them in passing, but the champions would not be diverted from their task again and soon the distinct signs of civilisation grew visible in the murk. First were the crop-fields, all different kinds of aquatic plants mixed together in deliberately straight cultivated rows, and further on were half-sphere pens of some kind of woven reed inhabited by different kinds of lake-fish, with more Grindylows patrolling around the outside. The champions drew back, all gripping their wands more tightly, but the little tentacled water-demons merely hissed at them as they passed – they seemed well trained in their guard duties.

The village itself loomed out of the murk soon after, low stone structures built in rippling arcs across the lake floor. Navigation was confusing at first, given the lack of anything recognisable as a street, but as the champions drifted up in the water to get a better look they caught sight of some kind of obelisk a few hundred metres ahead, the entire town arrayed around it in loose circles around it.

“Alright, this has to be it,” Cedric said, a purple glow in Rhiannon’s periphery carrying his voice to her. “Do we have, an actual plan? There’s no way they’ve left our kin unguarded.”

Rhiannon grimaced. “Missiculum champions - th-th- I- I’d do a lot for Dudley but, I d-d-don’t want t’ have t’ fight merfolk. ‘s not their fault,” she replied.

Viktor, still half shark, jerked his head toward the obelisk and Rhiannon shivered as she realised the song had changed again. Time’s near gone...

“Nonlethal attacks only, then, and only if we have to. Watch the gills,” Cedric told them firmly. “Let’s end this.”

With that, the three champions struck out for the obelisk. Everyone’s distance vision was limited by the murk, but as they drew nearer they saw their friends bound to stakes set around the obelisk at four points equidistant from the square base of the structure. Rhiannon’s heart twisted – even here in the water Dudley’s bad leg hung crookedly, and the thin girl, tall for her age and with her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair drifting in the water, that had to be Fleur’s little sister Gabrielle. She had known they were held hostage but seeing them here, all so helpless, it hurt, as badly as it had done to find herself trapped in the tournament to begin with.

Around the obelisk, ten or so merfolk floated in a tight ring inside the circle of captives. They held simple stone-tipped spears and their stances were defensive, but for now they showed no sign of moving as the champions approached their hostages. “If I’m right, we’re really gonna be in f’r it when we get up there... Jus’ don’t hate me, alright? Please?” Rhiannon whispered as she drew her knife and set about cutting Dudley loose.

With Dudley free, Rhiannon linked her arm in his and looked around to check on how her companions were doing. Viktor had reshaped his fins back into arms and was busily sawing at the ropes binding Nina’s ankles, working a little more slowly than the others given he was operating on touch rather than sight, while Cedric held Sorcha against his hip as he swam over to Rhiannon.

“There’s no way we’re leaving her here, right?” Cedric asked, gesturing to Gabrielle with his free hand.

Rhiannon shook her head, her mouth turning down at the corners as she eyed the circle of merfolk. “Missiculum - No way,” she agreed tersely. “H-help Vik, I’ll get Gabrielle. Those merfolk might take issue, an’ we’ll all need t’ get out’ve here fast if they do.”

Cedric grimaced, and tightened his grip on his wand in his free hand. “Just yell for help if you need me,” he replied, and set off around the circle to assist Viktor.

“Incarcerous,” Rhiannon muttered, binding a rope around Dudley’s chest with a trailing end left free. That, she knotted loosely around her own waist. “Just ‘n case,” she told Dudley quietly. With that secured, she looped her arm through his and paddled across to Gabrielle’s stake.

Gabrielle was head and shoulders taller than Rhiannon, but somehow she still seemed so young – unscarred, eyes gently closed as if she were only sleeping. The stasis spell had protected her a little but already Rhiannon saw bruises blooming under her skin the same as Fleur’s. Nyx stirred at the sight – Fleur was pack and that made Gabrielle pack by extension, but even if she hadn’t been... she was an innocent. That was something Rhiannon had lost, and she wouldn’t let it happen to this girl too.

More determined than ever, Rhiannon drew her knife and set to sawing at Gabrielle’s bindings. She was so intent on her task that she let her guard down, and that was when she felt the cold prick of stone as something dug into her shoulder. Rhiannon glanced up, and felt the usual cold discomfort as her eyes met with another’s, but that was quickly replaced by terror as she took in the owner of those sand-yellow eyes – skin leathery and coloured a deep murky blue, sharp teeth bared in a warning growl – a merperson. And that was their spear digging into her shoulder. Shit.

“No – nononono, I – I don’ wanna fight you!” Rhiannon yelped, holding up both hands – wait, that didn’t help, she was holding a knife. Double shit.

“One champion, one hostage,” the merperson told her. Their voice was low and melodic, almost singing each word – even through Cedric’s translation spell it was beautiful. No wonder they hated to speak above water.

“But her sis-s-sis- her sister’s my friend,” Rhiannon protested. “An’ Fleur nearly died getting t’ her - I can’t leave her here, please! We’re stuck-k-k in this t-t-tournament, but them – th-th-th-they’re not, they weren’t-t-t s’posed t’ be involved in this – she’s a kid!”

The merperson shook their head, but they did retract the spear a little. “No, we were told – one champion, one hostage,” they repeated, though Rhiannon was sure she saw a hint of conflict in their expression.

Rhiannon’s heart twisted, and sparkles crowded the edge of her vision – the air in her bubble was growing thin, they were running out of time. “Please – please! You d-d-d-o- y’ don’t have t’ help me, you can even fight us all the way up, just – she’s a child, and Veela – it’s why her sister – I d-d-don’ know what ‘s doing t’ her being down here, please, I can’t leave her here!”

The merperson grimaced, baring their teeth as they did so. “A child... The deal was not for children, but we knew you would do anything to get them back and that made them safer. But a Veela... birds do not belong in the deep. We will not be responsible for a child’s death,” they decided finally, and withdrew the spear. With a motion from them, the other merfolk lowered their own weapons as well.

“We cannot make it easy for you – the deal was struck for resources we sorely need, and we must uphold the remainder of it. But we will not pay for those resources with her life. Take her, we will not strike until she is free,” another of the merpeople said, resting the butt of their spear in the pebbly lake floor.

“Thankyou,” Rhiannon breathed, her voice whispery with emotion as much as the thin air in her bubble. Thin air – that thought refocused her, and she set about sawing at the ropes more intently. “Missiculum champions – dunno if y’ heard all that but we’re in f’r a fight ‘s soon as we get all th’ hostages free. Don’t h-h-h-hurt ‘em, this isn’ their fault,” she murmured into the spell. There was just the last rope around Gabrielle’s waist left, and she didn’t want to cut it until she was sure they were ready.

“Got it,” Cedric replied tersely. “Give us a moment to get to you, the Gillyweed’s wearing off, we all need to stick together – if any one of us gets pulled back down now we’re fucked.”

Rhiannon pulled Dudley closer and looped one arm around his waist, and soon Cedric and Viktor were at her side, their own limp hostages tied to them in much the same manner as she had done with her brother. “Missiculum – Viktor, can y’ take Gabrielle? Jus’ head straight f’r the surface, don’t stop for anything – you’re the strongest s-s-s-s-swimmer and you’ve got more air t’ make it. Ced an’ I, we’ll guard b-be-hind but we need a hand free.”

Viktor nodded, and paddled forward to take Gabrielle by the waist. With a glance at the waiting merfolk, Rhiannon slashed through the last rope and stowed her knife in its sheath in a single quick movement – and that was all she had time for, as the merfolk hissed and closed in.

Rhiannon took her wand in her free hand and brandished it at the merfolk, the image of the dead Grindylows seared in her mind – she had to think before she cast anything, these were people and they were helping her. “Flipendo – Viktor, g-g-get outta here!” she yelled, sending a grey-haired merperson tumbling back through the water.

Viktor, with Sorcha and Gabrielle roped to him, shot up through the water, and with a muttered ascendo Rhiannon and Cedric did the same. The merfolk raced after them, their strong tails propelling them just as fast as the champions’ magic did and their stone-headed spears outstretched as they closed in. “Glacius!” Rhiannon shouted in a panic, then yelped as the resulting ice stopped the merperson cold and sent them plummeting back down. “Nononono – finite!”

Thankfully, the counterspell dissolved the ice in time, and the champions had one less opponent as their ascension charms drove them ever upwards. But the merfolk were still faster under their own power and they began to overtake the champions, their spears crowding them on all sides. One nicked Rhiannon’s cheek and she had to restrain the first three spells that came to mind, eventually settling on degravo and ending it once the merperson it affected had plummeted far enough.

Cedric cast the same spell, taking out another, and for lack of anything better to do Rhiannon reverted to the old faithful Pumpkin-Head charm. That got them down to three, and by now the light was bright enough to be painful – they were nearly there. Rhiannon was so tired, the pain in her joints was blinding – it was the same as before but so much worse, she knew what this was – but it didn’t matter, she just had to make it a little further-

The merfolk dropped away, and that was just enough warning for the struggling champions before their magic threw them clear of the water. Rhiannon was barely present, agony drilling into her bones as she dropped back into the lake, kept afloat only by the remnants of her spell. The bubble-head charm was running painfully short of air and for a terrifying moment Rhiannon couldn’t figure out how to make her brain work enough to undo it, but she managed to free herself in time to hear Cedric’s amplified call for help, to hear the eruption of cheering in the stands – and the whine Dudley let out as the stasis spell fizzled out. Fuck.

“N-n-nonono, stay – almos’ there,” Rhiannon whispered, squeezing her arm tighter around her brother’s chest. “Propello,” she wheezed desperately, pushing them both toward the nearest platform where she could already see white-robed figures gathering – medics, thank God.

Rhiannon cut the spell right before it smashed her against the jetty, but by now even breathing was an effort – her ribs felt like iron constricting agonised lungs and darkness crept in on the edge of her vision and she knew instinctively that she was too weak to pull herself out of the water. Strong hands reached down to take hold of her, another severed the rope that tied her to Dudley and then she was being pulled from the water again, warm magic already flooding through her as the medics set her down on the floating platform.

Revitalised enough by the magic to sit upright, Rhiannon’s first thought was of Dudley. Still aching, she turned her head to look for him – there, just beside her. His eyelids fluttered, and as one of the medics helped him sit upright Rhiannon’s heart clenched as she saw that already the sclerae were turning dark and the irises yellow – subtle enough that she was only seeing it because she knew what to look for, but enough to set a new terror in her. She had been right about the stasis. “Whe-where’s Madam Pomfrey?” she asked weakly, reaching for her brother.

“With Miss Delacour, but don’t worry – we’ll take good care of you both, just lie back,” one of the medics replied, their tone reassuring – but it didn’t work on Rhiannon, they were missing something and if she didn’t act quickly her brother was about to be outed in the most public way possible.

“Then Dobby, or Hagrid – I can-ca-ca-can’t explain but, ‘s important!” Rhiannon stammered. Of course Madam Pomfrey was with Fleur, she was in worse shape than any of them – but how could she get help for her brother without outing them both?

Dudley coughed and spat out a mouthful of water, his foggy gaze sharpening as his mind cleared and he took in the facts of the moment. He’d experienced a partial turn before, and Rhiannon saw on his face that he recognised it happening again. “Shit, is this – of course,” he whispered, his tone turning reproachful. “Stupid, stupid... dammit. I’m sorry, Rhi, I should’ve thought of that, and now...”

“Rhiannon, Dudley!”

The werewolves turned their head in unison at the sound of the familiar bellow to see Hagrid striding down the jetty towards them. “Healers – I’ll help you get ‘em inside, the lad’s got an old injury and he’ll go into shock in the cold here. Give ‘em some time to rest up a bit before they get reporters on their case, yeah?” Hagrid offered, his face creased with worry. Not a bad lie, all things considered – and it would explain why Dudley looked like hell to anyone near enough to listen.

“This is a little unusual, but... he does seem to be struggling. Alright, go ahead,” a green-sashed healer told Hagrid with a frown and a nod.

Dudley grimaced and pulled himself closer to Rhiannon, trying vainly to hide behind her as the hair on his arms thickened and more began to sprout from his face, creeping in from the edges of his hairline. The panicked look he directed at Rhiannon was all yellow-eyed now, his ears growing more pointed and fuzzy under his hair and his knuckles creaking as he balled his free hand into a fist, the other gripping her too tightly. They were out of time. “Get me out of here – please,” he pleaded with Hagrid, sharp teeth protruding over his lower lip as his jaw slowly changed shape.

Hagrid knelt, shielding Dudley and Rhiannon from the crowd’s view as he did so. In his hand was a vial containing a familiar acrid-smelling grey liquid. Dudley grabbed it from him and downed it in a gulp, barely even flinching from the foul taste. Hagrid sighed and his shoulders slumped with relief. “Alright, that’s one problem under control – now for the rest of it,” Hagrid muttered. “Sorry, we don’t have enough time for dignity – I’m gonna have to carry you to the medic tent. Pull your hands in t’ your chest an’ hide your face, there’ll be reporters with cameras.”

Reluctantly Rhiannon let her hand fall from Dudley’s as Hagrid picked him up, and as he stepped away the medics closed in again. The one who had spoken to Hagrid wrapped a horrible crinkling metallic blanket around her shoulders, and the other two held a stretcher between them. “Now, just hold still and we’ll lift you on – I know you can probably do it yourself, but we shouldn’t risk it,” one of the stretcher-bearing healers warned her gently.

Rhiannon grimaced and hunched her shoulders uncomfortably. The pain of what she now knew to be decompression sickness was still burrowing into her bones and joints, and her chest was still constricting – and on top of all that, blood was trickling down into her armpit from the wound left by the merperson’s spear, and she’d done a shoddy job healing her injured wrist. Now she was above water, her own weight seemed unbearable and forcing her various injuries to bear it didn’t seem like a good idea. “Fine,” she mumbled grudgingly, and sat limp so that the healers could more easily move her.

Restraint was a skill, and it was one Rhiannon practiced more intensely than ever as the healers lifted her onto the stretcher and her instincts shrieked at her to bite them and run. The medics seemed aware of how tense she was and tried to touch her as little as possible, but she still hated how vulnerable she felt here, perched numbly as they lifted her from the ground and carried her along the jetty. No matter how hard the medics tried, every step they took jolted the stretcher and thus its occupant, and it was all Rhiannon could do not to whine and growl with every step.

Hagrid’s back was visible a few metres ahead of them, and Rhiannon grounded herself with that. Hagrid had Dudley, and so long as he was moving steadily that meant Dudley was safe. The rest was a blur – the crowd roared and clamoured, cameras clicked and flashed on all sides, Rhiannon kept her eyes down. Same old, same old – except for the searing pain and the looming danger of being publicly outed.

Before long they were safe in the medical tent. Rhiannon’s nails dug into her palms and she bit back a scream as the healers transferred her to a cot, but once she was settled and wrapped up in a borrowed dressing gown her heart rate began to slow and she was able to make out the details of the room more clearly. Viktor, now fully human again, lay on a cot to Rhiannon’s left with a healer working blue magic through his shoulder; while Cedric was seated on the opposite side of the tent with his arm around Sorcha. There was a cluster of medics around two beds in the far corner all muttering amongst themselves, and the curtains were pulled across the other end of the tent where Rhiannon could hear the distinct absence that indicated a silencing spell. “Nina, where’s – d-d-did somethin’ happen?” she blurted out, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey – I’m right beside you, it’s alright,” Nina replied quickly, her voice resonating from the bed to Rhiannon’s right. “Did you really negotiate to take all four of us? Bloody heroic idiot, I swear – they weren’t gonna leave us down there if you didn’t get us in time, they had backup plans!”

Rhiannon groaned and flopped back in the bed as the healer worked magic through her, chasing out the last of the decompression sickness. Back to a regular level of five-hours-til-moonrise pain, she sat up in bed to glare at Nina. “Nin, I love you, but – with w-w-w-what they put me through? I didn’t t-t-t-t-trust ‘em t’ look after you. And Gabrielle, she – Veela like Fleur, and that was mos’ly why she didn’t – why she got hurt so bad. Bird b-bones, water pressure – it was awful an’ Gabrielle already looked like she w’s getting the same way, even if they had a backup plan – d’you really think they’d’ve thought about nonhumans in it?”

Nina’s face sobered, rusty eyebrows knitting together. “Shit – that’s... I was teasing, but – that must have been terrifying. I’m sorry,” she replied softly. “Hey, uh, Healer, um – how are Gabrielle and Fleur?”

The nearest healer, a tall woman with olive skin, brown eyes and heavily-silvered curly brown hair, turned to them with an apologetic expression on her face. “I’m afraid it’s too early to tell – as your friend put it, Veela bones and water pressure, they’re injured in ways the rest of you aren’t and I’m afraid you can’t see them just yet. I can say neither of them is in immediate danger, though we’ll be taking them both to St. Mungo’s for further assessment,” she explained uncomfortably.

Rhiannon shook her head, cursing the tournament yet again. “And – an’, my brother? Can I see him?” she asked, too tired to hate the plaintive edge in her voice.

The healer’s expression brightened and she nodded, clearly relieved at being able to switch to a more positive subject. “Yes, of course – Madam Pomfrey is occupied with Miss Delacour at present but she did say you could go in – but none of the others, or us – protocol or some such. He’s in the curtained section at the end – do you need help getting there?”

“No,” Rhiannon replied hastily, trying her best not to snap at the healer and not quite succeeding. “No, I’ll – thank you. Sorry, Nin – everyone, I’ll see you later,” she stammered, standing even before she finished speaking. Hobbling across the tent without her cane was an exercise in misery, but she didn’t want to overload her brother with people while he was stuck in wolf-brain.

The silencing charm extended to a metre before the curtain, and Rhiannon felt it as she passed through. The other side was quieter than she would have expected, and the ever-present anxiety started to flood back. “Hey, ‘s Rhi – alright if-f-f-f I c-come in?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet and then immediately regretting it as her tendons shrieked in protest.

“Yeah, not a problem – permittere, come in,” Hagrid’s harried voice emanated from behind the curtain. Cautiously, Rhiannon pushed it aside and limped into the improvised room, flinching from the little electric shock as Hagrid sealed it shut behind her. “Sorry, sorry – just didn’t want t’ risk anyone coming in, guess’m a bit on edge,” Hagrid apologised sheepishly.

Inside was an interesting scene. There was a cot set against the end of the tent, but it was unoccupied. Hagrid, minus his coat, was seated cross-legged on the floor for lack of any half-giant-friendly furniture; while the coat was on the other side of the tent covering a lump that had to be Dudley, but all that was visible of her brother was his fuzzy white tail sticking out one side.

“Ah, fuck,” Rhiannon muttered, crossing the tent and crouching down beside the pile of coat and werewolf. “Hey, Dudley, ‘s me. M-mind if I shift the coat a bit?”

The coat pile made a noncommittal grumbling sound, but the protruding tailtip thumped the tarpaulin at the sound of her voice. Rhiannon reached over and pushed the coat back, sighing as it revealed her brother’s despairing expression. “C’mere, you,” she told him with a sigh, and sat down on the floor beside him.

Dudley pushed himself up off the floor and pulled himself forward a little way, then wrapped his arms tightly around Rhiannon’s waist and flopped back down with his head and torso in her lap. He’d clearly been crying – the tears had left distinct tracks in the pale fur on his face, and his shoulders began to shake again as he hugged her. “I’m so sorry, Rhi – the healers, they definitely saw, and – and I should’ve thought of this when Bagman told us what we were doing for the task. This, it – I’m sorry, I put us both in danger-”

Rhiannon shook her head and rested a hand on Dudley’s shoulder. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t fear how this was going to change her future, but... “Look, after what w-w-we went through t’ get you back, ‘fter what this tournament’s put us all through already... Ma-ma-maybe ‘s time. An’ I’m not, upset, that you f’rgot. I’m beyond upset, that they did this t’ you at all,” she told him quietly. Looking up, she caught Hagrid’s anxious expression and grinned, hardly caring how much she was shaking. “I’m with you. An’ after grindylows an’ Devil’s S-s-s-snare – I think we c’n beat this.”