Many people already knew there were only a few minutes left before the gillweed's time limit expired, and Harry Potter still hadn't figured out how to carry the treasure chest.
Finishing last in the competition wasn't the issue—but if he didn't succeed, he'd surely disappoint a lot of people.
Fortunately, the troublesome Harry Potter finally came up with an idea. He took off his shirt, wrapped the treasure chest in it, and began dragging it toward the surface.
At that moment, his only option was to rise to the surface. He was well aware that the gillweed's effect was almost over.
What had seemed like a short distance to the surface now felt impossibly far. Thankfully, he'd thought of wrapping the chest in his shirt—otherwise, carrying a chest equal to his own body weight would've been impossible.
At last, Harry Potter broke the surface. At the same time, Stanislav Ivaneski of Durmstrang Institute—the warrior now nicknamed "Crocodile Head" by the others—also emerged from the water.
"Congratulations to the Hogwarts champion—congratulations to Harry Potter."
"Congratulations to the Durmstrang champion—congratulations to Stanislav Ivaneski."
Barty Crouch congratulated them both in turn. Though their rankings were not yet determined, the words still needed to be said one after another.
"The second task has concluded successfully. Inside each warrior's treasure chest is a clue for the next round. Please open your chests now."
Barty Crouch continued speaking. Clearly, unlike the dragon egg task, they wouldn't be left to explore these chests on their own.
With caution, the five champions who had made it to shore opened their chests.
But where was the key supposed to go? The strange key had no visible keyhole.
The warriors turned their chests over and examined them closely. What appeared to be a keyhole was, in fact, just a decorative pattern.
"Apologies—I didn't explain clearly. Please insert the key into the patterned design on the right side of the chest."
Barty Crouch pointed to the side of the chest as he explained.
Both the left and right sides had identical patterns, matching the one on the front. Normally, chests unlock from the front, so no one expected the keyhole to be on the side. It was a simple mechanism designed to exploit common habits.
Each of the warriors inserted their keys and began to twist—then twisted again, and again… but nothing seemed to happen.
Finally, the fastest among them, Viktor Krum, turned his key ten full rotations—and the chest opened.
A beautiful melody played as the lid slowly lifted. Inside was a scroll-shaped cylinder, its carved patterns plucking at fixed metal tines. It turned out to be an oversized music box.
The other warriors opened their chests as well—they were all music boxes, and even the tune they played was the same.
"The clue is inside the music box. What it is exactly—that's for you to figure out. If you can decipher it, it will be a great help," said Barty Crouch. With that, he bid farewell to Dumbledore and left, clearly with no intention of explaining further.
Just what kind of clue could be hidden in a music box? Everyone was eager to find out.
Although Barty Crouch had just declared Harry Potter the winner after he surfaced, Harry himself felt no joy. He had come up in a straight line, and the moment he reached the surface, the gillweed's effects wore off. The gills behind his ears faded away, and from then on, he had to rely on his own strength to swim back to shore.
The crowd gathered at the shore was fully focused on the music boxes being opened. Almost no one noticed that Harry Potter was still struggling.
"It's Harry! Harry's back!" Ron Weasley, ever attentive, was the first to spot Harry nearing the shore.
"Pass me the chest first!"
Out of kindness, Ron offered to lighten Harry's load and take the chest from him.
Exhausted, Harry thought the same. He pulled the shirt-wrapped chest toward Ron and held it out with both hands.
Then, Ron Weasley drifted farther and farther away, while Harry Potter sank, clutching the treasure chest.
"The weight of the chest is equal to the contestant's body weight. Since the chest hasn't left the water, the weight curse hasn't been lifted. That's why Harry Potter was dragged back underwater by the chest's weight."
Regulus Black explained the design of the chest to everyone. This wasn't an accident—it was inevitable.
The medical team rescued the exhausted and once again submerged Harry Potter, who had nearly drowned.
"Harry! It's all my fault. I should have pulled you up first."
Ron Weasley looked extremely embarrassed. He had just wanted to take a look and touch the chest! He hadn't expected the weight curse to still be active, and that Harry would be dragged back underwater. A single careless comment from him had almost cost his friend his life—of course he was to blame.
When Harry was pulled out of the water, he wasn't even breathing.
Just imagine anyone having someone of equal body weight pressing down on their chest—the result would be the same. And with the chest being so small, it was like someone of that weight standing on your chest, while submerged. It was sheer luck that he survived.
Naturally, this couldn't be blamed on Regulus Black. How could he have known Harry would go and hug the chest after reaching shore? None of the previous champions had done such a thing.
As long as no one physically touched the chest, the weight curse wouldn't be triggered. Even when the crocodile head lifted it with a frayed rope multiple times, it brought the chest back safely. If Harry had simply wrapped the chest in clothing when picking it up, nothing would have happened.
This misfortune was simply a coincidence—and Harry was just especially unlucky at that moment.
"Take your time and rest, Potter. When you've fully recovered and are ready to leave the medical wing, then open the chest. There will be plenty of time to search for clues."
Professor McGonagall offered Harry some comfort before leaving with the others.
This allowed Harry to lie quietly in bed, recalling the moment when he was overwhelmed by despair.
He had been so close—the task was nearly over, he had practically won, the shore was within reach, and his best friend had already reached out his hand.
But then, one small mistake—clutching the chest—had dragged him away from all of it. The sensation of sinking wasn't even terrifying. It felt more like returning to the womb. Curled up like a fetus, holding the chest, it felt like the only proof that he had ever existed in this world.
He hadn't taken a breath before submerging. With the chest pressing against his chest, he couldn't even inhale water. His consciousness gradually faded, and the next thing he knew, he was in the medical wing, surrounded by concerned professors and classmates.
There was that strange feeling—like seeing them for the first time, and yet as if they were all so familiar.
Assistant Professor Regulus Black was explaining what had happened. So… was it really just bad luck?
Ron Weasley came to apologize. That was unexpected—Harry had thought this stubborn guy would just hide.
Professor McGonagall had just told him there was no rush to open the chest. Harry turned to glance at it by the bedside, but felt no urge to open it at all. Better to leave it there. Once the other champions solved the clues, he'd find out eventually.
With the mindset that even the end of the world didn't matter anymore, Harry finally drifted into a deep sleep.
It is often said that between life and death lies great terror—but sometimes, between life and death lies only emptiness. There is no life, and there is no death.
Several days later, when Harry left the medical wing, the secret of the music box had already been uncovered.
It turned out that the music-producing cylinder inside was actually a map. While carefully examining the internal structure of the music box, the Delacour sisters discovered tiny writing on the cylinder. They disassembled the music box, removed the cylinder, dyed it, and rolled it across a sheet of paper—revealing a map of the labyrinth.
Sure enough, good news always comes even when I don't worry about it.
Harry couldn't help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu—how had he known this would happen?
It seemed like this kind of mature thinking didn't match his current age or mindset. It was as if there were two versions of himself inside his body.
But thinking about that other self—so mature and thoughtful—it wasn't such a bad feeling. Hopefully, when faced with critical moments in the future, that other self could help. After all, it's still his own life. Isn't that only natural?
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