Rita Skeeter's death barely caused a ripple among the Hogwarts students. After all, people died every day, and aside from Hermione Granger, who had been ready to wage war against the journalist, no one paid much attention to the small notice tucked away in an inconspicuous corner of the Daily Prophet.
By March, Hermione would typically have been deep into crafting her revision schedule. This year, however, as a Triwizard Tournament champion, she was exempt from end-of-year exams. Yet, true to form, she had gone out of her way to petition Professor McGonagall to allow her to sit the exams anyway, resulting in an even more meticulous study plan.
"You've got to be joking!" Ron exclaimed, dropping his half-finished homework when he learned that Hermione had voluntarily requested to take the exams. His mouth hung open as he stared at her in disbelief.
"No, I'm not joking!" Hermione shot back, glaring at Ron. "And keep your voice down, unless you want to summon Madam Pince!" She cast him a disapproving look. "Besides, isn't it perfectly normal for a student to take exams? Harry doesn't think it's strange at all."
"To be clear, Hermione," Harry interjected, flipping through his textbook and Hermione's meticulously organized History of Magic notes after finishing last year's fourth-year exam paper, "I don't find it strange because I half-expected you'd do something like this. Honestly, I'd be more surprised if you didn't ask to take the exams."
"But… isn't the whole point of being a student to figure out how to avoid exams?" Ron said, still baffled.
"Why would I want to avoid them?" Hermione countered, now the one looking puzzled. "Exams are a free opportunity to test what I've learned this year. Why would I pass that up?"
Ron opened his mouth to argue but faltered, unable to find a solid counterpoint. From Hermione's perspective, exams were indeed a golden opportunity with no downsides—though something about her logic still felt off to him.
After spending nearly two hours slogging through his Transfiguration homework, Ron bolted to the Great Hall, scarfed down a quick dinner, and hurried to the Gryffindor common room. Harry had given him a stunning set of wizard's chess pieces carved from ivory as a birthday gift, but between classes and looming homework deadlines, Ron hadn't had a chance to show it off until now.
By the time Harry and Hermione returned to the common room, Ron was already dominating the chessboard, having trounced Seamus, Dean, and Neville. He was now methodically dismantling George's pieces with a smug grin. The moment Harry stepped into the room, George, clearly outmatched, threw up his hands and conceded defeat.
Harry and Hermione settled into their usual spot by the fireplace. Hermione retrieved her beloved copy of Hogwarts: A History and an unopened box of biscuits from her dorm. But no sooner had she cracked open the box—releasing a peculiar scent of fresh hay and new parchment—than Ron, who hadn't eaten much at dinner and was now ravenous, lunged forward. His eyes gleamed with hunger as he devoured the biscuits in two or three bites.
Then, something odd happened. Ron froze, staring blankly out the window into the dark night, his gaze unfocused and distant. Without a word, he bolted out of the common room.
"What's gotten into him? It's late—where's he off to?" Harry asked, glancing at the clock and then at the still-swinging portrait hole.
"No idea," Hermione replied with a shrug, unbothered as she returned to her book.
Just before curfew, Ron stumbled back into the common room, looking dazed. Ignoring Harry and Hermione, he trudged straight up the spiral staircase to the boys' dormitory.
In the midst of increasingly intense studies, two months flew by. The chill of winter gave way to balmy June weather, with temperatures climbing to the mid-twenties. The castle buzzed with nervous excitement as everyone anticipated the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, set to take place a week before the holidays. But before that, the students faced a more immediate challenge: exams.
This year's exams were unlike any before, especially for the sixth and seventh years. Sitting in the same exam hall as students from other wizarding schools was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For some boys, particularly those lucky enough to sit behind Beauxbatons' stunning witches, the exams sparked a fervent wish that the tests could last forever.
Hermione, predictably, was fussing to Harry about her perceived missteps. "I only listed twenty goblin rebels in the History of Magic exam!" she groaned for the eleventh time.
Thankfully, before she could spiral further, Professor McGonagall appeared. Clad in an emerald-green robe, she said, "Miss Granger, the champions are to gather in the meeting room beside the Great Hall after breakfast."
"But, Professor, isn't the task tonight?" Hermione asked, pausing mid-bite of her roast.
"I'm aware, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied. "But for the third task, the champions' families are invited to watch the final event. Your parents arrived at Hogsmeade station half an hour ago and should be on their way by carriage."
With a nod to Hermione, McGonagall turned and headed toward the Hufflepuff table.
Ron had already left the Great Hall after eating, and Harry was about to follow when Hermione grabbed his wrist.
"What are you holding me for?" Harry asked.
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Hermione tilted her head.
"No, but—"
"Then you're coming with me to meet my parents!" Hermione declared, yanking him back onto the bench. She hadn't gone home for Christmas, and her parents had given her an earful in their letters. Facing them now, she was certain to get another lecture—unless she brought Harry along to diffuse the tension. What were best friends for, if not to throw under the bus in moments like these?
Reluctantly, Harry followed Hermione, joining Fleur and the others as they entered the meeting room.
Inside, Cedric stood with his parents near the door. Viktor Krum was in one corner, speaking rapid Bulgarian with his dark-haired parents. Fleur was chattering in French with her mother, while her younger sister, Gabrielle, clung to her mother's hand. Gabrielle flashed a gap-toothed grin and waved at Harry, who smiled and waved back.
In another corner, Mr. Granger, with his dark hair, and Mrs. Granger, with her long brown locks, stood awkwardly. The moment they spotted Hermione, their faces lit up, but Mrs. Granger quickly strode over, hands on her hips, her expression stern.
"You didn't come home for Christmas, and you didn't even tell us the date of the second task!" Mrs. Granger scolded, her face—so similar to Hermione's—flushed with frustration as she pointed at her daughter. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?"
Hermione dodged her mother's finger, ducking behind Harry. "I didn't want to disrupt your clinic's business!" she said, sticking out her tongue. "Besides, it was just a bit of diving. What's the big deal?"
"Just a bit of diving?" Mrs. Granger's eyebrows shot up as she reached past Harry to grab her daughter. "Professor McGonagall wrote to us—it was nearly three hundred feet deep in the Black Lake!"
"Ha!" Hermione sidestepped her mother's grasp with a nimble backward hop.
The two began circling Harry, who stood helplessly in the middle.
Finally, Mr. Granger cleared his throat. "Emma, let's not make a scene. There are others here."
Panting, Mrs. Granger stopped, then gave Harry an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Harry. Hermione's always been like this. I hope she hasn't been too much trouble."
"No trouble at all, Mrs. Granger," Harry said with a grin. "Hermione keeps me on my toes."
"Oh?" Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously as she grabbed Harry's ear. "I keep you on your toes, do I? Care to explain how I've been troubling you?"
Mrs. Granger watched the exchange with a nostalgic smile, while Mr. Granger's expression darkened slightly.
After a bit more chatter, the group headed toward the Great Hall's exit. As they passed Amos Diggory, the tall, ruddy-faced man with a brown beard turned to Harry, who stood beside Hermione.
"You're… Harry Potter, aren't you?" Amos said, sizing him up. "How'd you know Cedric's score beat the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions?"
"What?" Harry blinked, confused by the proud-looking man.
"Dad," Cedric said from behind, offering Hermione and Harry an apologetic smile. "You're forgetting Hermione's score was higher than mine." He lowered his voice. "My dad loves to brag. Sorry about that."
"But our Cedric's a proper Hogwarts champion, isn't he?" Amos boomed. "Not like some sneak who got their name into the Goblet of Fire through who-knows-what means!"
His words landed awkwardly as he finally noticed the stony faces of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and Hermione, who sighed and rubbed her forehead.
"And you are…?" Amos ventured.
"We're the parents of that sneak you're talking about," Mr. Granger said icily.
Seemingly fed up with the room, Mr. Granger stormed out. Hermione glanced at Cedric, wanting to say something, but Mrs. Granger grabbed both her and Harry, dragging them out as well.
"Dad, you really shouldn't have said that," Cedric said, frowning at his father.
"But it's the truth, isn't it? That Granger girl stole the glory that was rightfully yours!" Amos protested.
Harry, Hermione, and her parents spent the morning strolling the sunlit grounds, enjoying a pleasant time. Mrs. Granger, in particular, was warm toward Harry, chatting with him and Hermione almost nonstop.
They showed the Grangers the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship. When they visited Hagrid, the Grangers—who'd assumed Hermione's "tall friend" was perhaps six feet tall—were stunned to meet the towering half-giant.
At lunch, Harry and Hermione introduced the Grangers to Ron and others. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that the Grangers were less warm toward Ron than they were toward Neville. Ginny and Luna, however, were instant favorites of Mrs. Granger.
That evening, Ludo Bagman and Percy Weasley took seats at the staff table. Bagman looked cheerful, but Madame Maxime, eating quietly, had red-rimmed eyes. Harry noticed Hagrid kept glancing her way. Curiously, Karkaroff was absent, though Cornelius Fudge was present.
As the enchanted ceiling shifted from blue to dusky purple, Dumbledore rose from the staff table, and the restless crowd fell silent.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes, I'll ask you to proceed to the Quidditch pitch for the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Champions, please follow Mr. Bagman to the field."
Hermione stood, joined by Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, and exited the Great Hall to Gryffindor's applause.
The Quidditch pitch was unrecognizable. A twenty-foot hedge encircled the field, with a gap marking the entrance to a massive maze. The dark, shadowy passages within looked daunting.
Five minutes later, students filled the stands, their excited chatter and footsteps echoing. The sky was a clear deep blue, dotted with emerging stars. Hagrid, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick approached Bagman and the champions, each wearing a glowing red star on their hat—except Hagrid, whose star was pinned to the back of his moleskin vest.
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