A trace of unusual sound reached Sherlock's ears, that voice mixed with the lake water's undercurrent sounds, yet was exceptionally clear.
He quickly turned his head. His gaze pierced through the murky lake water to see a translucent figure slowly drifting toward them.
It was their old acquaintance, Moaning Myrtle.
Two years ago, when searching for the Chamber of Secrets, this ghost had provided them with assistance.
Later, Ron had joked that Myrtle seed quite fond of Harry, even once inviting Harry to share a bathroom with her after his death, that bizarre invitation still seed both laughable and lantable when recalled.
"Myrtle!" Harry's voice was far more excited than Sherlock's, and he imdiately called out.
But with the scuba regulator still in his mouth, his voice could only erge through throat vibrations resonating through the air column, transforming underwater into a string of muffled "gurgling" sounds, like weakly bursting bubbles.
Sherlock's expression remained calm as he quietly observed.
In both his and Myrtle's eyes, Harry's current appearance was sowhat funny, though his bright eyes sparkled with excitent.
Seeing this, Myrtle couldn't help but giggle. Her transparent skirt hem swayed gently with the lake water, and her laughter suffered no distortion underwater.
"You should try going that way!" She extended a slender finger, pointing toward a more shadowy area of water in the distance, her tone sowhat playful. "I won't accompany you there... I don't much like them. Every ti I get close, those guys chase around—it's absolutely maddening."
As a ghost, Myrtle could speak underwater without any hindrance, her voice as clear as if in air.
Her hint was like a glimr of light in darkness, leaving Harry both surprised and delighted.
This was because the direction Myrtle indicated was precisely the sa as the one Sherlock had previously signaled.
This undoubtedly proved they were on the correct path.
"Fantastic!" Harry shouted excitedly again, only to produce more muffled "humming" sounds.
He shook his head helplessly and simply gave Myrtle two emphatic thumbs up, his clear eyes full of gratitude.
Myrtle's gaze clearly favored Harry more. She suddenly made a bold move: swaying her ghostly form, she quickly swam to Harry's side and gently kissed his cheek.
After completing this action, her cheeks instantly flushed red, as if stead by vapor. She then hurriedly swayed her skirt and floated away in the opposite direction.
Harry froze completely, his eyes were wide and round, even his breathing slowing by half a beat, clearly still unable to recover from this unexpected kiss.
Fortunately, Sherlock acted as if he had seen nothing, his expression still calm as he turned and swam toward the confird direction.
This made Harry breathe a huge sigh of relief. His tense body gradually relaxed—at least he didn't have to face this awkward situation.
The following journey was sowhat monotonous.
Sherlock consistently swam ahead, using his keen observation to avoid monsters lurking in the water.
Yet the underwater scenery seed unchanging: masses of black water plants intertwined like a tangled jungle, swaying gently in the undercurrent.
On the wide, flat sandy bottom, many glittering small pebbles were scattered about, refracting faint light.
Occasionally, several silver fish darted past, fast as arrows, leaving only fleeting silver shadows.
About twenty minutes later, Sherlock suddenly stopped.
He raised his arm slightly, signaling Harry to halt.
Harry imdiately accelerated, swimming to Sherlock's side and following his gaze to look around.
The lake bottom here was covered with large patches of black silt. The water currents stirred by their swimming disturbed the silt, raising dark, murky swirls that made the surrounding water even more turbid.
Sherlock made a gesture to Harry—palm slightly curved, pressed against his ear.
Harry imdiately held his breath and concentrated.
He knew this was Sherlock signaling him to "listen."
Soon, a lodious yet sowhat eerie song reached his ears—it was the rpeople's song!
"You have but an hour / To seek and reclaim what we took"
The song carried exceptionally clearly through the water. Harry's eyes imdiately brightened, his body trembling slightly with excitent.
Obviously, they were about to reach their destination!
Unlike Harry's excitent, Sherlock maintained his composure.
He surveyed their surroundings, confird the direction from which the song ca, nodded slightly to Harry, indicating he should follow, then slowly swam toward their target.
What surprised Harry sowhat was that even though they were about to reach their destination, Sherlock didn't increase his speed, maintaining a steady rhythm as if they weren't there for a competition but to admire the lake-bottom scenery.
Even so, before long they saw a massive rock looming ahead in the murky water.
The rock's surface was rough, covered with many rperson carvings.
The rpeople held spears, vigorously pursuing several enormous giant squids—though the lines were simple, they conveyed a sense of ferocity.
Just then, the rpeople's song ca again, but the lyrics made Sherlock frown.
"Co seek us where our voices sound / We cannot sing above the ground / An hour long you'll have to look / To recover what we took"
Sherlock's ti sense was extrely precise.
He clearly knew that thirty-five minutes had passed since Bagman blew the whistle to start the competition.
The rpeople's song was both a reminder and a form of interference.
For those with poor psychological endurance, hearing "ti past half" would inevitably cause nervousness.
Not to ntion unsettling words like "what we took."
Sure enough, after hearing the song, Harry's expression imdiately changed.
A flash of panic crossed his green eyes, and he unconsciously increased his swimming speed, even surging ahead of Sherlock.
At this mont, even without Sherlock's guidance, he could follow the song to find the direction, his urgency causing him to completely disregard rhythm.
Sherlock didn't stop him, rely following behind Harry while his gaze continued carefully observing their surroundings.
Soon, the surrounding environnt changed: many crude stone dwellings appeared before them. Their surfaces were speckled with green algae, so of which swayed gently in the water.
Then the rpeople finally appeared.
Their skin was a dull, iron-gray color, seemingly cold to the touch.
Their dark green hair was long and wild, like tangled masses of water plants, floating freely with the current.
A pair of yellow eyes glinted sharply, carefully scrutinizing Sherlock and Harry.
Their incomplete teeth were also yellow, and when their mouths curved upward, the gaps between teeth were visible.
Around their necks they wore necklaces of pebbles strung on coarse rope, the pebbles making soft "clacking" sounds when they collided.
As Harry swam past, the rpeople all revealed ill-intentioned smiles, their eyes filled with examination and curiosity.
One or two rpeople even swam out of their caves for a better look.
They gripped spears tightly in their hands, their robust silver fish tails tapping lightly in the lake water, stirring up small splashes.
However, when Sherlock, following close behind, also swam past them and looked their way with emotionless eyes, their movents slowed sowhat. The hands gripping their spears tightened slightly, and they didn't advance another step.
Harry didn't notice the commotion behind him, only swimming rapidly forward while constantly scanning around, searching for the hostages' whereabouts.
Soon, the stone dwellings beca increasingly nurous. So had peculiar underwater plants growing around them, like small gardens.
Sherlock continued carefully observing the surrounding environnt when suddenly his gaze rested on a door.
A small Grindylow was tethered beside the door, its body currently writhing restlessly.
Clearly, these two species were not on good terms.
More and more rpeople were now erging from all directions, all curiously watching Sherlock and Harry, pointing at their scuba gear and whispering with hands covering their mouths.
Neither Sherlock nor Harry paid attention to the rpeople's behavior.
After Harry rounded a corner, the view suddenly opened up before him.
What appeared to be the rpeople's village square ca into view.
Several crude houses surrounded the square, and a large group of rpeople floated in front of them.
Among them, a dozen or so rpeople ford a circle, singing in unison.
The song Sherlock and Harry had heard earlier ca from them—they were calling the champions over.
Behind the rpeople rose a crude statue, a large rperson carved from massive stone.
The statue's surface was rough and uneven, yet one could still make out the rperson holding a spear with a dignified expression.
Of course, this wasn't the important part. The important part was that three people were firmly bound to the rperson statue's tail.
Undoubtedly, these three were the captains from the three schools: Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum.
However, at this mont all three appeared to be sleeping deeply. Their heads drooped powerlessly on their shoulders, their long hair floating in the water.
Their lips were slightly parted, continuously releasing strings of fine bubbles that slowly rose until they reached the surface and burst.
Their bodies were motionless, only swaying gently with the water current, appearing utterly lifeless.
Seeing the hostages, Harry's heart leaped with urgency, and he imdiately wanted to rush toward them.
But when he saw the spears gripped tightly in the rpeople's hands and their vigilant eyes, his steps abruptly stopped.
Only then did he realize that without knowing it, he had already surged ahead of Sherlock.
Guilt instantly welled up—they had clearly agreed to coordinate with Sherlock, yet at the first sign of tension he'd committed his impulsive fault again.
Fortunately, he stopped in ti at the critical mont, not acting too rashly.
Otherwise, once he charged forward, the rpeople would very likely have imdiately attacked.
But what Harry never expected was that while he stopped, Sherlock continued swimming toward the hostages.
What surprised him even more was that the rpeople surrounding the statue didn't stop Sherlock as he approached.
They rely watched him quietly, their expressions appearing quite complex.
Seeing this scene, Harry was both surprised and delighted. His worries instantly dissipated, and he imdiately followed behind Sherlock, swimming toward the statue.
Sherlock stopped beside the statue, carefully examining the ropes binding the hostages. They were woven from water plants—thick and slippery, their surfaces covered with a layer of moist mucus, looking extrely sturdy.
He tried pulling with his hands, but the rope didn't budge.
Even with his considerable strength, he couldn't simply tear the rope apart with his hands underwater.
Harry also noticed this problem. He imdiately turned to look around, his gaze sweeping over the spears in the rpeople's hands, and had a sudden inspiration: perhaps they could use a spear to cut the rope!
He quickly swam toward a rperson—the creature was a full seven feet tall with a long green beard on his chin that waved about in the water.
Around his neck he wore a short necklace made of shark teeth that glinted with cold light.
However, when Harry gestured to borrow its spear, the rperson laughed heartily and shook his head.
"We cannot help," the rperson said in a hoarse, low voice.
Seeing this situation, Harry's anger rose from his heart and courage grew from his rage.
"Give it here!" he shouted—of course, what erged was still incomprehensible gurgling sounds while trying hard to wrest the spear from the rperson's hands.
Unfortunately, his strength was no match for the rperson's.
With a slight effort, the other party pulled the spear back.
Seeing Harry's embarrassed state, the surrounding rpeople all laughed heartily.
The laughter echoed through the water, seeming particularly grating.
Harry gritted his teeth and could only give up trying to seize the spear, instead searching around the lake bottom for usable tools.
Before long, his gaze fell on two relatively sharp stones.
Their surfaces were rough and uneven, with sharp edges that seed capable of cutting through rope.
He imdiately swam over, picked up the stones, and returned to the statue's side, handing one to Sherlock.
Sherlock made an "OK" gesture to him.
This made Harry feel sowhat gratified—at least he could finally be of so help.
However, just as he was about to desperately hack at the rope binding Cedric with the stone, Sherlock took that stone from his hand as well.
"Gurgle gurgle (Sherlock)?" Harry looked at Sherlock in puzzlent, not understanding what he intended to do.
But in the next mont, Sherlock drew his wand and tapped one of the stones lightly.
That stone quickly transford into a knife.
"Gurgle gurgle (Brilliant)!" At that mont Harry almost wanted to give Sherlock a hug.
That Transfiguration was perfectly executed!
Sherlock transford the other stone into a knife as well, and the two imdiately got to work, deftly cutting through the ropes binding Cedric.
Properly speaking, at this point they should just take Cedric and leave, but Harry hesitated.
He looked worriedly toward Fleur and Krum.
Where were the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students?
What were they dawdling about?
Why weren't they hurrying up?
Did they really intend to leave these two to die here?
With this thought, he imdiately pointed at the bound Fleur and Krum, gesturing frantically to Sherlock.
Sherlock imdiately understood Harry's aning.
He wanted to rescue these two as well.
One could only say Harry was truly too kind-hearted.
However, when Harry returned to Krum's side and raised his knife to cut the rope binding her, several strong, powerful hands imdiately seized him.
It was six or seven rpeople.
They pulled Harry away from Krum's side while shaking their green-haired heads and laughing heartily.
One of them even issued a direct warning: "You can only take your own hostage. Leave the others alone..."
"But they'll die!" Harry was both angry and anxious, unable to help but retort, though his voice remained muffled gurgling sounds.
With this thought, he couldn't help but look toward Sherlock.
He knew very clearly that Sherlock was a kind person.
Even if Fleur and Krum were their opponents, he wouldn't stand by and watch them die.
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