We're riding on the Hogwarts Express and discussing the Triwizard Tournament. The loss of the cup and the unsatisfactory organization of the tournament from the very beginning, which resulted in an extra champion, really did lead to an international scandal and a ban at the ICW level on organizing such events. English wizards weren't particularly loved before, but now they're especially disliked. Too many complaints have accumulated, and this one with the cup is completely fresh. It turned out strangely - all the champions, fortunately, remained alive, but there's still no winner.
Black is waiting for me at the station.
"Hello, Hermione, how were the exams?" Sirius asks with a wide smile and hugs me tightly.
"Hello. What exams, with such news?" I sigh.
"Don't worry, we'll get through it!" Well, at least someone has a positive attitude. "Get ready, we're apparating."
Apparition is still a nasty thing, but at least it doesn't make me nauseous anymore.
In the house on Grimmauld Place, I first go to look at Cassie. Cassie is Cassiopeia Black, she'll be six months old in a few days.
Sirius suggests I first see everything in the Pensieve, and then ask questions.
I'm using a Pensieve for the first time. In the wide bowl, silvery mist swirls - this is Harry's memory. I lower my head and seem to fall into the memories - so cool! I wonder how this is done? I don't feel at all that in the real world I remained standing in a stupid pose, with my head in the bowl.
Next to me is Harry, preparing to enter the maze. A gong sounds and Harry runs to the entrance, I'm gently pulled after him. Harry's independent passage through the maze ends at the very first turn. An Imperius curse hits him in the back. A young wizard with light disheveled hair comes out from around the corner and commands:
"Follow me, Potter."
He takes him by the wrist and drags him forward. The maze was passed quickly, the perpetrator clearly knew the shortest path and the location of all the traps. He touches the Cup, still holding Harry tightly, and they are transported to the cemetery I already know.
At the cemetery, the arrivals are met by a house-elf with an incredibly ugly baby in her arms. A large snake is coiled nearby. The house-elf whimpers quietly in horror.
"Winky, stop whining!" the blond man sternly shouts at her.
Winky tries to follow the order, but individual squeaks still break through. The house-elf's master ties Potter to Tom Riddle's gravestone, under which now lies a completely different person, and removes the Imperius curse.
"Today you have the great honor, Harry Potter! You will witness the rebirth of the Dark Lord!" the wizard announces pompously.
I look around - yes, the large cauldron is also present.
"It's time to begin, Barty," says mini-Voldemort in a thin voice.
Inappropriate moment, but this is horribly funny - attempting to speak majestically in such a squeaky voice.
Barty begins the ritual.
"Bone of the father, taken without consent, revive your son." The wizard points his wand at the grave under Potter's feet. Nothing happens. Could it have worked?!
"Bone of the father, taken without consent, revive your son!" he repeats louder.
And then gets hit by someone's skull.
"Why do you hesitate, my servant?" God, again this pompous tone. Voldemort, you're ruining the entire thriller with your voice.
"I don't understand, my lord, where did the skull come from?"
"What difference does it make to you, Barty?" mini-lord begins to get irritated. "The Riddles lived here for generations, half the cemetery here is related to each other. My father was such a nonentity that magic might have considered even his bones unworthy for the ritual, and you're now holding in your hands the skull of some great-grandfather of mine. One shouldn't understand the words about father literally," Voldemort explained condescendingly.
Oh, I'm such a fool, such a fool!
I regret that there's no table in the Pensieve to bang my head against.
Why, why didn't I look up details about the ritual, when the Black library was at my disposal? On the other hand, I definitely wouldn't have dug up half the cemetery. More precisely, I would have had to dig up everything. Who can tell where the relatives are here.
While I was engaged in self-flagellation, Barty had already managed to throw "flesh of the servant, given willingly" into the cauldron. But he turned out to be smarter than Pettigrew and cut off only a finger on his left hand. Probably even a toe would have worked, but who knows this Voldemort - he might have taken offense at such a thing.
"Blood of the enemy, taken by force..." Crouch raised the blade over Potter, but then Harry finally thought to use the Portkey, and I was thrown out of the Pensieve.
"After moving to Godric's Hollow, Harry called the Knight Bus and went to Hogsmeade," Sirius continued the story. "We questioned Harry about where he had traveled from, but he didn't know himself. And only with Dumbledore's hint did we find Little Hangleton. At its cemetery we discovered the remains of the ritual and the corpse of Barty Crouch Sr. I think it was his blood that was used. And in the Pensieve you saw his son. Dumbledore discovered traces of Imperius on Ludo Bagman - as it turned out, he was the one who threw Harry's name into the goblet. And he was the one who placed the prize cup on the pedestal."
Well, there you go, and I was searching the map for who knows what. I'm always forgetting to consider something.
I spend the rest of the day with Harry, listening to his reasoning about everything that happened, and with Cassie, levitating toys in front of her. She tries to catch them and laughs when she succeeds. Too bad we still don't know what the resurrected Voldemort turned into. After all, instead of Harry there was Crouch, and instead of Peter there was Barty, who could handle the ritual better. What if Voldy looks like a normal person? I'll pass by him on the street and not recognize him. Harry tells about the memory he saw in Dumbledore's Pensieve. It was the trial of Karkaroff, the Lestranges, and Barty Jr. I don't understand Crouch Sr. - he's still a father after all. It's unlikely he had plans to get his son out of prison during the trial, to just take and turn away from his own child, no matter what he was like...
***
The next morning I return to my parents. It's time for us to have a serious talk, and for this I need support, so I send an owl to Amelia asking for a meeting.
Amelia and I together were very convincing, my parents are scared to death. Miss Bones, without details but very clearly, told them what Voldemort and his followers did to Muggle-borns and their relatives in the previous war.
"No one will attack you right now," Amelia reassures, "most likely he needs to gather strength and regain his influence, and many of his Death Eaters are serving life sentences in Azkaban. Right now the Dark Lord definitely has no time for Muggle-borns. But you must be prepared that in a year or two, life in this country will become dangerous for you. I, like Hermione, also think it would be better for you to leave England temporarily."
Over the next week I take exams at school - there's one last year ahead. And one last year remains at Hogwarts. Soon I'll finish both schools at once. My parents are thinking... It's hard to abandon an established life like this. But on Sunday they announce their decision - we're moving. Most likely to France, where my mother's aunt lives with her husband, we visited there often and my parents came to love the country. There's no rush yet, we'll need to find housing there, and here sort out my parents' clinic. It's a shame to sell it, but I think they'll be able to get a good sum for it.
So, in two weeks we're leaving for France, we'll look for a new home for us, and meanwhile my parents with an agent's help began selecting the most profitable options for selling their dental clinic and preparing all the necessary documents.
I also asked mom to talk to Petunia. Whether to leave or not, let the Dursleys decide for themselves, but they should know they might be targeted.
Well, and the Finch-Fletchley family was also warned, naturally, my parents continued to communicate quite closely with them. They won't leave, they hold too high a position here, but the lord said he would take appropriate measures. Justin, like me, leaves school after fifth year and takes his O.W.L.s.
***
For some time - about five minutes - I pondered whether to follow the book path and try to bribe the goblins to get into Bellatrix's vault. I have something to offer them, Ravenclaw's diadem, albeit damaged, but still priceless, goblin weapons, some definitely very valuable...
But I almost immediately threw this nonsense out of my head.
First, there's a risk they'll kill me right there as soon as they hear my proposal. In the book, the kids were bargaining with a single goblin, but in the bank the situation would be completely different.
Second, even if we make a deal, they'll definitely try to deceive me. Goblins hardly forgive such things. Even if there's a contract that I'll give them the diadem after my return from the vault, they'll stab me in the nearest alley afterward.
No. This method isn't for us. I'm prepared to accept that the cup won't be destroyed - and without the real Hermione, with only Ron and Harry's forces, a daring robbery might not work out. But this is better than risking it myself.
I need to look for another way, and first let's clarify something with Sirius.
A couple of days later I visited again and caught a moment when the Tramp was alone:
"Sirius, tell me, as a representative of the Black family, can you get into your cousin Bellatrix's personal vault?"
"The only thing I can do with her vault is throw some money in there for her poverty," Black laughed. "Even though I'm a relative of this crazy woman, the vault is personal, even though it appeared when she was still a Black."
"And to make a gift, would they let you into her vault?"
"No, I'd have to go through the goblins. People prefer not to show the contents of their vaults to anyone. What's got you suddenly interested?" Sirius caught on.
"You see, it's like this, I'm not sure myself that I overheard everything correctly," I began to hesitate. "Do you remember, I recently went to Diagon Alley for hellebore? I needed to update my supplies of pacifying balm..."
"Hermione, have some conscience - get to the point, I'm about to die of curiosity!"
"Well, at the apothecary the drawer I needed was right at floor level, I squatted down to choose a better bunch, and then two people approached the shelves from the other side. I think they were Death Eaters!"
"Did you see them? Could you recognize them?" Sirius jumped up.
"No, I was squatting. That's why they didn't see me either and spoke openly. They were talking about the Dark Lord, that is, You-Know-Who. Some nonsense about his greatness, that he'll become stronger than everyone again. It's scary, they're real psychos. I sat there and was afraid to breathe, not knowing what would happen if they noticed me..."
"Hermione, did you remember the conversation well? Any information might be useful to us!" I see Sirius took the bait. He's ready to run on the tip right now, to defeat Dark Lords.
"Sirius, I'm very scared! What if someone finds out that I was the one who told! Death Eaters will take revenge on me. And I have parents who are Muggles. They won't be able to protect themselves!"
"Don't worry, Hermione, no one will find out," he even grabbed my hand for credibility. "But you could save several lives. What if this information is extremely valuable? If you stay silent, who knows what might happen?"
"I think the information is valuable. I just don't want anyone to know about my role," is the client ready? Or do I need to intrigue further?
"Hermione!"
"Sirius, I'm asking you, give me an oath. That you won't tell anyone that this information came from me. Better say you overheard it yourself!"
"Hermione, don't you trust me?!" Sirius seems offended.
"I do trust you, but you know walls have ears too. And there's also Legilimency, various potions! Whether you want to or not, you'll betray even close friends. But an oath will save from that. Please, Sirius!" I even bit my lip for credibility.
"Alright, have it your way," the Tramp gave in. "All for your beautiful eyes!" he smiled.
Oh, Sirius, you can't be so frivolous about such serious things. But right now this only works in my favor.
Sirius makes the oath. I think he won't have any desire to circumvent it deliberately. And oaths protect perfectly against accidents. Now I'm calm.
"They were talking about some cup that's stored in Bellatrix's personal vault. That this cup is a guarantee of the Dark Lord's rise, that he personally entrusted the preservation of the cup to Bella - his most devoted servant. The cup is very important... What exactly, I didn't understand, the people were clearly continuing some old conversation, but I understood that without the cup everything could collapse."
"Well, it's good that the crazy Lestrange family is locked up for life in Azkaban," Sirius concluded carelessly.
"Are you sure You-Know-Who won't organize their escape? Surely sooner or later this will happen."
"Escaping from Azkaban..." Black began.
"You escaped from there without any help from outside," I interrupt him. "If you alone accomplished the impossible, then You-Know-Who with a small army of dark wizards might succeed too."
"Damn, but I can't take anything from Bella's vault," Sirius jumped up and started pacing around the room. "Even if I become Lord Black, I can't order her to give me the cup. She moved to the Lestrange family after all."
"So we need to make a bomb," I exhaled.
***
Before leaving for France with my parents, we didn't manage to make the bomb. We only managed to decide on the principle of operation. The basis will be a runic chain of explosion runes and neutralization runes. The latter should be destroyed after some time, and then an explosion will occur. We decided to destroy the neutralizing runes with armadillo bile, which will first be in a capsule and slowly dissolve it. We'll stuff the bomb with thin sharp nails, which I'll soak with basilisk venom.
But I haven't told Sirius about the venom yet, I said we need to use a charm-destroying potion. In principle, basilisk venom just replaces such a potion, only acts much more powerfully.
We racked our brains most about the shell. The shell shouldn't greatly reduce the force of the explosion. In the end we settled on a metal mosaic sphere that will easily fly apart into pieces. Sirius suggested covering it with gold plating to make it look more like a valuable artifact.
Now we just need to calculate everything. The force to be poured into the runes, the thickness of the soluble shell so it doesn't dissolve too quickly and gives at least a couple of days' margin. Bombs are no joke.
It was time for me to leave, and we had only managed to conduct the first experiments. I asked Black two hundred times not to experiment without me, especially with the nails. And even without nails, not to forget to put up shields.
***
All two weeks in France we were looking at real estate. By evening my head couldn't think anymore, and in the morning the agent would call with offers of the next batch of options. So we probably came back more tired than when we left. But we found a house. We'll live on the outskirts of Dijon near a park. A beautiful quiet place, the house is smaller than our current one, but with a good layout and needs almost no repairs. And I already have in mind the University of Burgundy and its medical faculty for the future. But even if I can't get into that particular place, it'll still be medicine. I'm fascinated by the hypothetical possibilities of an alliance between science and magic. One without the other doesn't always give the needed result, but together they're capable of dealing with almost any medical problem. I'll have to find ways to translate magical methods to the ordinary world so as not to violate the Statute of Secrecy. I don't believe in a successful alliance between wizards and Muggles, but I quite believe in an alliance of methods. After all, many potions use completely non-magical ingredients. And if I'm not just an academic but a practicing doctor, I'll be able to cheat sometimes, in the most hopeless cases helping myself with magic. And I'll save many lives.
Upon return, my parents again immersed themselves in work - there were many things to do before the sale, so most of the day I was left to myself.
Susan is now locked up at home by her vigilant aunt, who herself works day and night. My friend can't even go for a walk beyond her own garden, we correspond, and from the letters I can see how unusually hard this lifestyle is for her. I went to visit Luna for a couple of days, met her dad, who immediately suggested I call him Xeno. Xeno is a very unique person, sometimes you can't tell at all if he's serious or joking. Should I tell him about reptiloids from Nibiru or something? But in small doses he's an interesting conversationalist.
I really liked their house. From the outside it resembles a crooked little tower. Inside the rooms are irregularly shaped, all the walls are covered with funny drawings, the furniture is multicolored and of different styles, lots of odds and ends, incomprehensible and bright. A sewing machine, a spinning wheel - I think for decoration, an easel, lots of paints and pencils, clay figures, homemade chandeliers - Luna respects handmade work. All this together should look like a mess, but no - the house looks cozy. We repainted the walls in her bedroom, she was tired of the old ones. I drew giraffes and parrots, and Luna drew Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and some caterpillars with wings.
I watched how wizards print newspapers - almost like ordinary people, only the machines are started by magic.
Xeno can also talk mentally! In a month, he and Luna have trained really well, this is almost no different from ordinary conversation for them. But only between the two of them. Even better than ordinary conversation, because it works at a greater distance. We're sitting in Luna's room, and suddenly she announces: "Dad warned that he's going to the village because we're out of milk." You could go crazy, how cool that is. And I can still only "see" simple pictures of one, maximum two objects.