#16 Upward

Tom's immediate impression was that he had been transported somewhere, if not physically through space, then maybe backwards or forwards throughout time. The world he'd left behind was cold and snowy, the harsh bite of winter still nipping at his cheeks, and the world he'd stepped into was warm and bright and sunny. The contrast actually took his breath away, the large windows and the light they let in seeming almost ethereal to him. 

The light from the windows was a stark juxtaposition to the black and foreboding waters of the large pond that somehow found itself in the middle of the room. Was this like the indoor swimming pools that some excessively rich Muggles had in their homes? Tom doubted it. Like most everything else at Hogwarts, this involved a magic far beyond his skill level and even his comprehension. 

Tom inspected the pond and quickly observed two buckets beside it. He went to inspect them and found nothing out of the ordinary- just two regular looking buckets. Luckily, whatever force had conjured this room had been thoughtful enough to provide an explanatory plaque to help him understand what was expected of him. He read the plaque a few times to make sure he wasn't missing something, as it seemed simple enough.

Plopping down on the banks of the pond, Tom removed his boots, socks, robe, and all clothing until he was down to his skivvies. No need to ruin his clothes by getting them wet, plus there was no telling what kind of magical pond scum he might get on them if he wore them into the water. He dived in feet first, the shocking cold of the water feeling like a punch to the gut. He quickly adjusted, gulped a huge breath of air, and swam down.

If the water looked dark from the surface, it was just as dark now that he was actually down in it. It took almost no time from him descending the surface of the pond to realize the kelp was so large and present it almost acted like a maze, restricting his ability to swim in certain directions and even wrapping itself around his limbs at times. That was disconcerting, but Tom managed to keep his cool.

It took him a few attempts to figure out what he was doing- he would dive down, try to make his way through the maze of kelp, resurface for air, and get back to it, knowing the path of least resistance better with each trip. Eventually Tom found the bed of stones the plaque had promised he would encounter. He blew air bubbles out his nose, releasing the last bit of air in him and sinking his body all the way to the bottom of the pond. 

He sunk his feet into the sandy, slimy bottom, grabbed a rock, and pushed himself upwards, using his legs to give himself some momentum as he attempted to swim himself back to the surface. 

Tom felt the cold, icy stab of pure unadulterated fear as someone or something clasped its hand around his foot. Forgetting he was underwater, Tom opened his mouth to scream and water rushed in, burning his lungs and forcing him to cough. In his terror his body tensed up and he pulled the stone in his arms closer to himself instead of dropping it back at the bottom of the ocean floor. Like a frantic and flailing lunatic, Tom kicked his legs like a madman. He wiggled and writhed this way and that, wondering if he drowned if anyone would discover his body here in this magic room.

Somehow he managed to shake himself free and he kicked his legs towards the surface like he had never kicked before in his life, fear and dread and adrenaline coursing through his body like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Every tendril of kelp felt like a hand trying to squeeze and drag him under. He'd never felt so claustrophobic, so out of breath, and so terrified as he felt in this moment. When his head finally breached the water he gasped loudly and dramatic, emitting a bit of the leftover scream that had gotten stuck in his throat.

When he finally reached the edge of the pond, he threw the stone upon the dry land and pulled himself up, collapsing onto the ground in a heaving pile of nerves and exhaustion. He laid there for probably a full five minutes before he felt calm and collected enough to stand. His lungs still lurches intermittently, trying to have him cough up residual traces of the pond water. He picked the stone back up in his hands and made his way to the plaque, having momentarily forgotten what instructions the room had given him. After a quick reminder, he approached the buckets.

"Here goes nothing," he said to himself, tossing his stone into the black bucket. There was no real reason behind his decision choosing one over the other- it was a 50/50 chance, so he didn't think about it too hard. At this point he just wanted to dry off, get dressed, and get back to somewhere he knew a mysterious watery hand wasn't going to try and drown him.