Harry Potter: Another Chance

Disclaimer: 

Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K Rowling.

I own nothing but the original characters I make.

"Dialogue"

'Thoughts'

-Author notes-

Chapter 404: Triggering the Trap

As his body broke the surface of the water, Harry's improvised protective charm enveloped him in a shimmering bubble. Unlike Cedric's and Fleur's, which only covered their heads, Harry's magic formed a larger sphere that surrounded his entire body, allowing him ample space to maneuver without being drenched by the icy lake.

The moment he descended into the dark depths, the world above dissolved into silence. Visibility was minimal, with the lake's murky waters pressing around him.

He spotted the other champions as they began their descent. Krum had used a unique partial human transfiguration, morphing his upper body into a half-shark, complete with gills and powerful fins. It was an impressive and intimidating sight. Fleur and Cedric, by contrast, relied on standard Bubble-Head Charms, their enchanted pockets of air glowing faintly in the gloom.

Harry barely spared them a glance. His task had nothing to do with competition. The tournament didn't matter...not the fame, the glory, or the prize. The only thing that mattered was getting Lyra out of the lake safely.

Propelling himself downward with a burst of wind magic, Harry moved quickly, his wand guiding him like a rudder. As he descended further, the water grew colder, and the darkness deepened to near-total blackness.

He didn't need light charms, though. His magical senses reached out like tendrils, honing in on the unmistakable magical signatures tied to the hostages.

At the heart of the Merfolk city, he reached the plaza. It was eerily beautiful, illuminated faintly by bioluminescent algae and small glowing stones. At the center, tied to a massive stone statue of a merman, were four figures: Cho Chang, Hermione, Fleur's younger sister Gabrielle, and Lyra.

Harry's heart tightened as he spotted his sister. She appeared unharmed, the hibernation charm leaving her in a peaceful slumber, but he could sense the faint hum of additional magic around her bindings.

'A trap,' he thought grimly, his mind flashing back to the Triwizard Cup in the maze years ago. The memory of being portkeyed to Voldemort's resurrection was seared into his consciousness.

He knew the signs well.

The ropes around Lyra's feet weren't ordinary...they pulsed faintly with layered magic. He scanned them carefully, quickly confirming his suspicion. This wasn't just a prop for the tournament; it was a portkey, ready to activate the moment he touched her.

'Who did this?' Harry's mind raced. Snape was the most likely culprit...he was close enough to the tournament and had the skills to weave such an enchantment. Surely, he was just following his instructions but a heads-up would not have hurt.

But Harry didn't have time to dwell on the "who" or "how." What mattered now was keeping Lyra out of Voldemort's hands.

The Merfolk stirred around him, their glowing eyes and sharp spears cutting through the gloom. They gestured at him impatiently, one sharp finger pointing upward, their message clear: Take one hostage. Only one.

Harry ignored their growing agitation as his gaze swept over the other hostages. Each was unconscious, suspended by magic that ensured their survival underwater. He briefly considered taking all of them, but the Merfolk were unlikely to let that happen without a fight, and he had no time for that.

Focusing on Lyra, he devised his plan. He couldn't remove the portkey without activating it, but if it activated while she was in his arms, he could control the situation.

'If they want the Boy Who Lived, they'll get him,' he thought grimly.

The water around him shimmered with movement...Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were approaching. He needed to act quickly before they arrived, lest they would also be dragged into this mess along with him.

With one decisive motion, Harry gripped Lyra's arm and pulled her into the bubble while slicing through the ropes with a swift, wandless cutting spell.

The moment the ropes snapped, the portkey activated.

A burst of blinding light exploded from the statue, sending shockwaves through the water. The Merfolk recoiled, their sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the brightness. Harry gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar, stomach-twisting pull of the portkey.

The underwater gloom vanished in an instant.

Harry's feet hit solid ground as the disorienting spin of the portkey ceased. The air was damp and cold, filled with the stench of decay. Slowly, he raised his wand, illuminating the scene.

They were standing in the middle of a graveyard. The tall, weathered tombstones and crooked iron gates were unmistakable...it was Little Hangleton cemetery. A place he was unfortunately very familiar with.

"Mmm…" Lyra stirred in his arms, groaning softly.

Harry held her upright as she regained consciousness. His wand hand remained steady, scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. The protective bubble had dissipated, leaving them exposed to the cemetery's cold, oppressive atmosphere.

Lyra's eyes fluttered open, and she coughed, the foul air shocking her fully awake. "Neville?" she croaked, her voice hoarse. "Where… where are we?"

"Not Hogwarts," Harry muttered grimly.

Lyra glanced around, her confusion giving way to fear as she took in the eerie surroundings. The darkened sky, the gnarled trees, and the cracked tombstones made it clear this wasn't any ordinary place.

"What's going on?" she whispered, clutching his arm.

Before Harry could respond, a chilling sound echoed across the graveyard...the snap of footsteps on wet grass.

Harry tensed, raising his wand higher. His sharp green eyes scanned the shadows until a bone-chilling voice broke the silence.

"Well, well. It seems our guest of honor has arrived… with company."

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