Summary:
Hermione shuts and locks the bathroom door behind her, leaning against it, head resting on a damp towel. She's too panicked to even care that—
How? All she did after dinner and drinks was go to bed, and now she's back in…1994. The day of the Quidditch World Cup. But— but that's not even the strangest thing. The strangest thing is…she's herself.
She looks in the mirror. Yep. Herself. Twenty-five-year-old body. Definitely not fifteen, as she's supposed to be.
Or will be in a few weeks. It's not September yet.
The rules of time travel are very clear. Don't change anything. Don't show yourself. And whatever you do, don't see your past self. It will drive you mad.
But…
Her old self isn't here. She's replaced herself. And not just her mind. Her body. A ten-year growth spurt overnight.
Oh, this is not good.
Notes:
Hi folks!
So...I'm back with more bellamione! And this will be another long one. Probably not as long as last time, but who knows? I've mapped it out, but the plot does tend to run away from me.
Now, I won't give too much away about what's coming. This is time travel though, and I'm sticking with book!canon with...a few differences, as you can probably guess. This fic is going to be mostly quite lighthearted actually, with all of our favourite characters popping up, and no bashing. It's a bit of a fix-it, but not too much.
And the bellamione will be a slowburn. For...different reasons to usual.
Anyway, it's very difficult not to give anything away, so I'll let you get reading. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
Chapter 1: Go From HereChapter Text
Hermione adjusts her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she packs the last few bottles, smiling apologetically at the cashier. "Okay, so that's you, Ginny, Ron, George, and Fleur but no Bill? Should be enough. I didn't get wine though, just beer and cider. Do you think Fleur will bring— well, I know, but it's always best to be sure. At least without Bill there'll definitely be enough to eat. Sorry I just threw this on you, I thought I'd be home by now. Work was— Oh, one second, Harry."
She puts the phone down so she can search for her card, once again smiles at the cashier as she waits, and then grabs her bags and the phone, wishing she could just get out her wand and cast a featherlight charm. Ah well. Not far.
It's raining and dark as she leaves the supermarket, but that's actually a bonus as it means she can hurry around a corner into a dark alley, and disapparate.
Appears in her kitchen.
Harry puts down the phone and grins at her. "Is it raining out? You look like the Giant Squid got you."
Hermione drops the bags and wipes some hair out of her face before casting a drying spell. "Pouring. Well, in London at least. How's dinner going?"
He grabs an oven glove that's flung over his shoulder, opening the oven door and checking the pizzas. "Just about done. We'll have to put more in later but these three will do for now, and I had a look around in your fridge and managed to make a salad."
Hermione walks over to look at the salad, quite impressed by what he's come up with. "Well, it looks great. I can't believe how long it's taken for us all to find a time to meet for dinner. I thought I might have to postpone again. You're a lifesaver."
He starts hovering the bottles out of the bags. "You mean a saviour? Hmm. Never been called that before."
She whacks him gently on the head with a big bag of crisps before emptying them into a bowl. "And you're sure Ginny is up to this with…well…"
Harry holds out his arms in front of his stomach and puffs out his cheeks. "The one-week-old child that doesn't seem to want to come out of her just yet? Yeah. She definitely wants to come. She was snoring when I left, but she said she'd be over later, and bagsys the chair closest to the loo and the biggest slice of pizza seeing as she can't drink."
Hermione snorts. Fair enough. "Well that will work out fine then, seeing as Fleur told me she's on a diet but intending to drink a lot tonight seeing as she has the night away from the baby. Is that why Bill isn't coming?"
Harry nods, checking his watch. "Think it'll be the first time she's away from Dominique. Remember how she wouldn't let Victoire out of her sight until she was about three? This one's barely a month old and she's off like a shot."
Hermione shakes her head, following a miaowing Crookshanks over to his bowl and giving him some food. "She's less anxious. Think that's normal with a second child."
Harry hums. "Mess up the first one, and learn from your mistakes with the second one. Got it."
She straightens up to look at him. Check his expression.
Ah. Joking but worried.
She squeezes his shoulder. "Good job you've had so much practice looking after me and Ron then. We're your practice batch. The baby'll be fine."
Harry runs a hand through his hair awkwardly. "More like you looking after us. But thanks. Why don't you go get changed out of your work clothes? I'll turn the oven off and go back to my place for a sec. See if Ginny's gotten herself stuck on her back on the sofa like a tortoise again."
Hermione barks out a laugh and walks off towards the stairs. "I'm telling her you said that!"
He is so getting a bat-bogey hex to the face later.
Hermione hastily moves the bottles out of the way before Fleur can knock them over as she pours herself another large glass of wine.
"I am telling you! This is true! I turn by back for un moment, and Victoire and Teddy have eaten the whole thing. Comme ça!" she snaps her fingers and takes a large mouthful of wine. "Petits monstres. And now I have another one. Remind me to never do that again."
The wine swills out of the side of her glass, and Ron sends up a subtle protego, pushing some bread and a jug of water towards her hintingly. "Sound like a handful. I'll have to watch them for you for a bit whilst Andromeda's away. They could come hang out at the shop with us, right George?
George grins. "We do need some new test subjects," he winks.
Hermione rolls her eyes but smiles. She knows he'd never.
Ginny snorts. "The last thing we need is those two learning more mischief from you. I've lost track of the number of ton tongue toffees I've accidentally eaten recently."
"You fell for it?" Ron laughs. "More than once?"
Ginny flicks her wand at him. A jelly-legs jinx that he deflects. "I thought they'd run out! Didn't know you were giving them a secret stash."
Fleur nods gloomily. "It is never-ending. Send me back to the grindylows. I am begging you."
Harry opens another beer and smiles across at her. "You don't mean that. Remember how freezing the lake was? I'm surprised you ever got in."
Fleur's head snaps up. She puts her wine down, pushes it away, and sits up straight, staring Harry down. "Of course I got in! I was a champion too, non? Just because one of those connards caught me by surprise!"
Then she grins. Raises her wand. "You did not even know the bubblehead charm, little boy. Tu souviens? Maybe we should have a rematch. A real competition."
Harry laughs, glancing around and giving everyone knowing looks at Fleur's unsteady hand. "Sure. We'll have to put it in the calendar. Set up a duel or something. Invite Viktor."
Ron claps him on the back. "You should! That would be wicked, mate! When was the last time we saw Viktor? We haven't played a friendly in a while either. How about it? Gin—"
He glances at Ginny and cringes. "Oh. Right. Forgot. Guess it has been a while."
Ginny huffs, folding her arms over her stomach. "Forgot? Alright for some. Yeah. It's been a while. But I swear, as soon as this thing's out of me, I'm getting straight back on a broom."
"Thing?!" Harry squawks, reaching for Ginny's stomach. "Child. Baby. James, or Lily, or—"
Ginny laughs. "Okay, okay! I didn't mean— ugh, whoever it is, they're pushing on my bladder. Hermione, help me up, would you?"
Hermione is already getting to her feet, used to this by now. "Here we go. Anyone else want anything whilst I'm up? More to eat, Ginny? I could see if there any biscuits in the tin if you want? Or fruit? I might have—"
Ginny waves her off. "Stop fussing. You're worse than Mum. I'll be as big as Aunt Marge if you lot aren't careful."
"Aunt Marge?" Fleur asks confusedly.
George leans in to whisper to her. "Harry's Aunt. He blew her up when he was thirteen," he says solemnly.
Fleur's eyes go wide.
Hermione fights a smile and nods sadly too, sitting back down and reaching for her almost empty glass. It's a strange joke they've had for years now. Always nod seriously when Aunt Marge is mentioned.
It cheers Harry up. And George.
Fleur looks around at them all.
Then rolls her eyes, muttering about never understanding English humour.
Ron cracks first, laughing into his sleeve. "Wish I'd seen it. Dad knew the poor bloke who had to fetch her down. Did I tell you? They tried to accio her but— but the wind kept blowing her away. Had to— had to get a net and—"
Hermione's shoulders are shaking now, holding back laughter. Not from the story. She's heard it a million times before, and it's not even that funny. It's Harry. Harry and his ridiculously serious expression. She never knows how he manages it.
Fleur accios some firewhisky from the back of a cupboard and pours some into both her and Hermione's empty glasses. "I think you are the champion, Cherie, dealing with these idiots for so many years. What is your secret? Because it is not alcohol. Drink! It is Friday night, drink!"
Hermione does drink. Quite a large sip that makes her eyes water but her heart warm.
Or maybe it's just having everyone together like this. It's nice to sit back and just…soak it in. Her family.
She frowns down at her glass. How much has she had to drink? She's getting sentimental.
Fleur adds some more firewhisky. That witch!
Hermione snatches the bottle from her with a stern glare. "No more. I mean it. It's for the best. You'll regret it tomorrow."
Laughter echoes from down the hall, and Ginny appears. "Uh oh, Fleur, you're in trouble. Hermione has spoken. And you'd better do as she says, with that look on her face. We all know that look."
Wha— what look?
Ron nods. "The prefect look. Although actually I think you've had it down since first year. You always were scary."
He takes out his wand and tuts. "It's leviosa. Not leviosaa!"
Ron! "But it's true!" Hermione cries. "Intonation is a very important part of—"
Harry stands up, eyebrows pinching together and chin jutting out. "I'm going to bed, before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed. Or worse, expelled."
George snorts. "She didn't."
Harry grins at Hermione and sits back down. "Word for word. You were an amazing kid, Hermione."
Hmph.
Hermione sends some empty plates and glasses to wash themselves in the sink. Glares at everyone. There's nothing wrong with being the sensible one. Someone has to be.
They just smile back.
And…she can't help but crack a smile too. Raises her glass. "You were all amazing. Every one of you. And…I hope Victoire, and Teddy, and Dominique and whoever is hiding out in your stomach, Ginny…all make friends at Hogwarts that are just as amazing as you lot."
Ginny raises her glass too with a grin. "To amazing kids."
"To family," Harry says, joining in and throwing an arm around Ron.
Family, Hermione thinks as the glasses clink together.
Maybe she's not an only child after all.
…Huh?
What is…ugh her head is so fuzzy. How much did she drink last night? Who is— oh!
Someone is shaking her awake. In the dark.
Hermione lunges for her wand on instinct.
"Whoa! Hermione! It's me!"
She pauses mid-reach. Blinks and rubs at her eyes as she peers around. Oh. It's Ginny. She's still here?
Where is here? Where…
They're…at the Burrow? How…
"Sorry," she mumbles out confusedly. "Where…I thought…"
She pushes herself up on her arms to look around properly, turning on the bedside lamp.
Ginny is crouched next to the bed, pulling a jumper on over her t-shirt and shoving her toothbrush into a rucksack, yawning. "Wow, you're even less of a morning person than me. Quidditch World Cup? Portkey to catch? Remember?"
World Cup?
No. No, that isn't—
Hermione slowly pulls the sheets back and gets up. Really takes in the dimly lit room.
And Ginny.
Not pregnant. Younger. So young. Thirteen?
Thirteen-year-old Ginny.
What's going on? Is this a dream? It has to be. Too much to eat and drink, and talking about the Triwizard Tournament. Her brain is just…muddled or something.
But it feels real.
Ginny is staring back. Has looked up from where she's packing her bag and frozen at the sight of Hermione.
Hermione looks down at herself. Checks this isn't one of those dreams where you're not wearing any trousers.
Nope. She has pyjama shorts on.
Ginny stands up. Steps closer to her. "You…uhh, maybe you should look in a mirror, Hermione. You— what— umm…Did you, like, have a crazy growth spurt over the summer?"
Hermione frowns. Wanders over to look in a mirror on the wall.
She looks…normal. A bit tired. Hair a bit frizzy. She combs her fingers through it.
Oh wait.
She watches Ginny in the reflection. Younger Ginny.
Hermione's hand comes up to her neck reflexively. Checking for that little hourglass. That she doesn't have anymore. That she hasn't seen in years.
Not there. Gave it back to McGonagall, and then they were all destroyed.
But Ginny is younger. And…all of their school things are here. Ginny's posters. It does look like…
Fourth year. The Quidditch World Cup.
She forces a casual smile onto her face. "Guess I did have a bit of a growth spurt. And I used that time turner so much last year to get to my classes that I think I must have lived third year twice. That's probably it. You know I've read that can happen. A sudden change of appearance due to time travel."
It is true. But she'd actually read that in reference to changing time. One small change, and someone has a different hair colour.
Or a different child. A different partner.
Oh gods. Oh gods, she really hopes she hasn't travelled back in time. She really, really—
A loud knock on the bedroom door interrupts her thoughts.
"Girls? Are you up? The tents are all set, and there might be time for a cuppa if you're quick, but—"
Arthur peeks his head around the door and smiles as he spots them. He's wearing muggle clothes. Jeans and a golf jumper. "Ah. Good. Well done, you two. Remember to wrap up warm. It's chilly out."
And he's already off again, apparently not noticing anything amiss.
Hermione stares at the space he left. Red-haired. Definitely less grey hair than…
So it really is—
She pinches her arm. Last resort. Ow. Ow, right.
Real. This is real.
She slowly drifts back over to her bed. To the bag she apparently packed the night before.
Ten years before.
She quickly throws the clothes on that she's conveniently left on top. The clothes she remembers wearing before, the memory trickling back to her.
And grabs her toothbrush. "I'll go use the bathroom," she says shakily. Avoids looking at this strange, young Ginny, and hurries out of the room.
Shit. Shit shit—
Time travel?
Okay. Okay—
She shuts and locks the door behind her, leaning against it, head resting on a damp towel. She's too panicked to even care that—
How? All she did after dinner and drinks was go to bed, and now she's back in…1994. But— but that's not even the strangest thing. The strangest thing is…she's herself.
She looks in the mirror. Yep. Herself. Twenty-five-year-old body. Definitely not fifteen, as she's supposed to be.
Or will be in a few weeks. It's not September yet.
The rules of time travel are very clear. Don't change anything. Don't show yourself. And whatever you do, don't see your past self. It will drive you mad.
But…
Her old self isn't here. She's replaced herself. And not just her mind. Her body. A ten-year growth spurt overnight.
Oh this is not good.
It really does feel like being in a dream. Or falling unexpectedly into a pensieve. At first, it's uncomfortable. A nervous twist in her stomach every time someone looks at her, certain she's going to be caught out. She's hesitant to do anything. To speak. Desperately trying to remember how she used to act. Everything she did all those years ago, so she doesn't alter the course of events.
But after a few hours, once they've arrived, set up their tent…
It's nice. Nostalgic. She misses this. Being so carefree. She can appreciate everyone so much more. Little conversations with Harry.
Seeing Cedric Diggory is…
And Fred! She can barely tear her eyes from the twins.
Part of her wants to…
No. No changes. For now, push the thought away. Get through the day.
Enjoy the day. It won't be long before the happy bubble is burst anyway, when the Death Eaters arrive.
So when Harry offers to buy her and Ron omnioculars from one of the stalls, she just smiles and nods.
"Three pairs," Harry says firmly from her side, already handing over some galleons.
"No—" Ron jumps in awkwardly. "Don't bother…"
He's going red. Thumbs resting in his empty pockets. He's already spent all of his savings on a dancing shamrock hat, a green rosette, and a miniature Viktor Krum figurine.
Oh Ron. This year really is going to be tough.
Harry just shakes his head, thrusting the omnioculars at him and Hermione. "You won't be getting anything for Christmas. For ten years, mind," he jokes light-heartedly.
Ron grins. Takes a pair. "Fair enough."
Hermione resists the urge to hug them. Adorable. They're so young and adorable. And maybe Harry is a little more observant than she remembered.
"Ooh, thanks, Harry! And I'll get us some programs, look…" She hands over some knuts for the programs. So she has something to pretend to read. And can check for any alterations to the timeline. She hasn't spotted any so far, other than the conversation with Ginny this morning and a few comments on her 'summer growth spurt'.
They begin to make their way back to the tent. The match will start soon.
Ron catches her eye. She leafs through a program.
Time to think. Next step. Soon they'll be up in the box, watching the match. So she has to sit in the right place. Make sure that Winky is behind them with the invisible Barty Crouch Junior. That no-one accidentally uncovers him.
She swallows uncomfortably. But nods to herself. She's made up her mind. So far…the best thing to do is make sure everything happens exactly as it should. Even though it's horrible, even if it will mean a future where Harry will be terrified in that graveyard, a future where Cedric Diggory will die, where Fred will eventually die…
It's the best option. Because it's Hermione's future. One where she knows, for a fact, that they win. Whatever happens, Harry lives. The light wins.
And until Hermione figures out how she got here, or how to get back, the best thing to do is keep a low profile, and make sure everything goes as planned.
Hermione jumps as a loud gong sounds from the woods, and red and green lights fill the air. She reaches for her wand, eyes scanning the tree line for black cloaks and—
Mr Weasley comes out of the tent next to them, Irish flag draped over his shoulders, Ginny and the others following after him, all wearing green rosettes.
"It's time!" Mr Weasley announces excitedly. "Come on, let's go!"
Hermione lets out a quiet breath and stores her wand up her sleeve, giving Harry a reassuring look as his forehead crinkles for a second. He noticed. Noticed her reaction.
She reaches past him to adjust Ron's hat before it dances off his head, and then grabs Harry's arm. "That made me jump. I guess I'm a bit on edge! It's so exciting, isn't it?
Harry still doesn't seem convinced, but Ron laughs. "You're excited? About quidditch? Finally! Did you hear that, Harry? Only took four bloody years!"
Hermione follows along next to him, rolling her eyes. "I meant the atmosphere. And I do appreciate the talent that comes with quidditch. The strategy, and the physical dedication. I just don't see why it's so celebrated compared to other specialisms such as—"
Ginny comes up to her and wraps an Irish-green scarf around her neck. And her mouth. "Two weeks. Two weeks, Hermione, and you'll be back writing essays. Until then, the topic is quidditch. Use that brain for the power of good and talk gameplay with me. See, I reckon if they send Moran after Levski, then…"
Hermione chuckles and leans against her. Lets her friends voices wash over her, and pays a bit more attention to the players. She knows a few of them from the future, the best ones still around, some even friends with Ginny now, or friends of Viktor.
Viktor. Now that's going to be strange. Seeing his face everywhere has brought back so many memories. Some a bit embarrassing.
That kiss at the Yule Ball. No chemistry whatsoever. And they'd both known instantly. Pulled back and laughed. She'd even shaken his hand. Friends. Definitely better off as friends.
Not that she usually has much chemistry with anyone, to be honest. It's why she's given up on dating. Tries not to think about it. Friendship is fine, but anything past that and…well first Viktor…then she realised it felt the same way with Ron…
And after a few dates here and there…
She shakes herself from her thoughts. Not the time. Dating should be the last thing on her mind. Especially as everyone thinks she's fifteen.
She jogs to catch up with the boys and Ginny, who are beginning to climb the stands two steps at a time in their eagerness. The background hum of the crowd is a roar now, lights flashing and magic buzzing through the air. Crackling. Hermione can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she takes it all in. Magic. Everything is so much—
She comes to an abrupt stop as they reach the box.
Her stomach flips.
Because sat one row behind Arthur and the twins…are the Malfoys. Already in their seats.
But Winky isn't there. There's no house-elf.
Just Lucius, Draco, and Narcissa Malfoy. All glaring and looking as if the Weasleys brought a disgusting smell into the box with them.
"Excuse me, sweetheart," a voice comes from behind Hermione.
She turns. Cringes as Cornelius Fudge gives her a condescending look.
She's blocking the stairway.
She makes her feet walk her forward and falls down next to Ginny in the front row, muttering out an apology. She can't do much else but…
Changed. Something changed.
So…is Crouch even here? Where is he? What…
She turns around in her seat to watch as Lucius introduces his family to the Minister and the Bulgarian delegates. Definitely no house-elf. Just the three Malfoys on one side, a couple of empty seats behind Harry and Ginny, the aisle, and then where Fudge, Ludo Bagman and the Bulgarians are getting settled.
Or maybe the seats just seem empty. Maybe Winky and Crouch are both invisible.
Her hand drifts to her sleeve. Her wand. She thinks she might be able to perform an homenum revelio without anyone noticing if she's quick.
And then she freezes as Narcissa Malfoy's gaze fixes on hers. A curl to her lip that becomes a sneer of disgust. Hatred. Pure hatred and anger. Hermione feels her face heat up with the shame of it. It's been a long time since someone looked at her like that.
But she glares back. She won't back down to bigotry. Never has.
And she thinks about how much she pities them. She does. She really pities them. How far they're about to fall, with nothing to pick them back up. These Malfoys and their glass houses.
"Slimy gits," Ron mutters, loud enough for the sound to carry, and Ginny pulls her around to face the field just as Ludo Bagman charges into the box.
"Everyone ready?" he calls jovially. "Minister, everyone ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," Fudge says comfortably.
And Bagman pulls out his wand, casting a sonorous. "Ladies and gentleman…welcome! Welcome to the final of the four-hundred and twenty second Quidditch World Cup!"
The spectators scream and clap, flags waving and voices soaring as each national anthem blurs together in a cacophony of noise. Hermione grips her seat as her thoughts whirl, outside world disappearing.
If Crouch doesn't steal Harry's wand, he won't escape. Won't cast the Dark Mark. Won't impersonate Moody and put Harry's name in the Goblet.
Everything will change. A horrifying ripple effect.
Bagman's booming voice manages to drift past her thoughts. "…the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
Arthur leans forward. "I wonder what they've brought— ah!"
And he whips off his glasses, rubbing at them and looking away. "Veela!"
"What are…" Harry starts to ask. Then abruptly stops as the Veela fly into the stadium.
His face goes slack and dopey, as does Ron's. The other wizards have looked away, knowing what was coming. Hermione glances around. Even Lucius Malfoy is studying the floor. Narcissa is holding her hand over Draco's eyes, turning to further block his view as he tries to pull her hand away.
And that's when Hermione sees it.
A hand.
A hand appears, from nowhere. From mid-air, just over the seat next to Narcissa Malfoy.
And as Harry stands up…the hand reaches forward carefully, clasps the end of Harry's wand, and deftly slips it from his back pocket. There and gone in an instant. Disappeared.
Oh.
Hermione knows she should look away. Knows she just witnessed something she definitely wasn't supposed to see.
Crouch? Is Crouch there? Invisible? Sat next to Narcissa Malfoy?
Except…
Well, she might have imagined it, but the hand looked…small. Feminine.
And strangely familiar. How could it be familiar? If it isn't Crouch, who could it be?
Lucius Malfoy looks up.
Hermione hastily turns around. Grabs hold of Harry as he tries to climb over the edge. "Harry? What are you doing?"
Harry just gapes at her like a confused fish, one leg hanging in the air.
Hermione tugs him back into his seat with a tut. "Honestly." Hormones sending Harry plummeting to his death is the last thing they need right now.
Because if something has changed…then things are even more complicated than they first appeared. Winky isn't here. Isn't guarding Barty Crouch. Which means this is not the fourth year that Hermione remembers.
She can't have changed that. Not from anything she's done today. There's no way her actions could have changed these course of events.
Which means…
This isn't just a different time. This is a different world. Just slightly.
And if one thing is different…
Then Hermione can't be certain of anything. Who knows what will happen? What other changes might suddenly appear?
She glances sideways at her friends as the match begins. Their young, smiling faces.
Grips Ginny's hand tightly.
First priority, then. Figuring out how she got here can wait. The first thing she needs to do, is to keep them safe. Figure out what's changed. What will be the same, and what will be different.
How to get things back to how they're supposed to be.
And that begins with finding out who is sat behind her, with Harry's wand in their hand.
Chapter 2: Follow CloselyNotes:
Hi folks!
Wow, your response to this has been amazing, thank you so much! I couldn't keep you waiting for long, so here's another chapter.
Oh, and this does overlap with canon, so some dialogue has been stolen. Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me!
Chapter Text
Hermione remains tense for the rest of the match, unable to ignore the hidden figure sat behind her.
It could be Crouch. The more time passes, the less she's sure about that hand. It would make sense if it was him. Then there would only be one difference. No house-elf.
And wizards can sometimes have small hands. She's never actually met Barty Crouch. He was disguised as Moody the whole time, and then died from the Kiss. Maybe she's overthinking it. Maybe he just has slender fingers and is relatively small in stature.
By the end of the match, she's itching to turn around. Casually drop something behind her. Then it would land on the person. Reveal them.
Bad idea. Don't change time even more just because you're so impatient.
So when Viktor catches the snitch, finally ending the match, Hermione jumps to her feet in relief.
"Ireland wins!" Bagman bellows, wand pointed at his throat. "Krum gets the snitch…but Ireland wins! Good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
No, and neither were you Hermione thinks, wishing she could warn the twins that they were about to get leprechaun gold as their winnings. Another reason to make sure Harry still wins the tournament. So the twins can open their joke shop. People need laughter and a bit of mischief to—
Oh, ouch! She forgot about poor Viktor.
She steps closer to the edge, omnioculars in hand. Did he always get that hurt? His nose looks broken. "He was very brave, wasn't he? He looks a terrible mess," she comments to the others, watching Viktor refuse help from the mediwizards and witches as he sulks and bats the flying leprechauns away. He seems young too now. His brooding obviously embarrassment. Anger. Awkward with the attention.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch Cup is brought into the Top Box!"
What?
Oh!
Hermione quickly sits back down, blinking awkwardly in the floodlights as their box is illuminated for all to see.
She turns to face the other direction, not enjoying all the omnioculars now pointing her way. Watches Fudge instead as he stands to accept the cup from two panting runners who have carried it up the steps.
Cameras flash. The Bulgarian ministers put on diplomatic, congratulatory smiles. The Malfoys preen at the attention.
Or two of them do. Narcissa still looks like she's swallowed a lemon, even as she gets to her feet…
Gets to her feet, and moves over in front of the chair to her right. The one with the invisible person.
Hermione smiles and claps with everyone else as her mind whirs. Is the person there? Have they left? Surely Narcissa would be standing against them if—
"And let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers! Bulgaria!" Bagman announces.
The Bulgarian players fly over and climb into the box, one by one going up to shake Fudge's hand despondently. More and more file in. There isn't much space to hide, if Crouch has wandered off. Is…crouched somewhere.
Hermione looks around for possible hiding spots, moving out of the way as the Irish players begin to arrive, much more jubilantly. Raucously.
Oh. Oh, that's such a good idea!
She surreptitiously shuffles down the aisle, pretending she's trying to get closer to the celebrities and get a better view.
And backs into the row behind them. Moves closer to the two 'empty' seats. It won't look too strange. She's just making room. And if she just happens to get close enough to the seat behind Harry to—
"What do you think you are doing?" a voice hisses close to her ear from behind her.
Hermione jumps.
Turns to meet angry eyes. Grits her teeth. "I'm just giving the players some space, Mrs Malfoy. I have as much a right to be here as—"
A wand digs into her side, hidden from view, just below the heights of the seats. "You have no right. None," Narcissa whispers steely. "These seats belong to us. Get back where you belong."
Wha—
She has some nerve! Threatening her? In front of everyone? With all the cameras, and spectators and—
Spectators. People are watching.
Hermione reaches down and firmly pulls Narcissa's hand away from her. "Careful, Mrs Malfoy. Wouldn't want to show the world your hand too soon," she can't help but bite back.
Narcissa's eyes narrow. "Oh I believe I've made myself perfectly clear. You'll see very soon. And if you know what's good for you, you'll get away whilst you still can."
And she pulls her hand back, shoving Hermione away. "Be careful, girl! You're stepping on my robes!" she sniffs more loudly. Haughtily. Casts a cleaning charm at herself and moves back, closer to Draco.
And as she goes…glances at the empty seats. Just quickly. Hermione wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been looking for it.
A glance.
Hermione backs out of the row, not wanting anyone else to start paying her any attention. Paying any of this any attention.
A stray glance…
These seats belong to us.
These seats. The Malfoys paid for the empty seats.
So that means—
Harry throws an arm over her shoulder. Leans to whisper in her ear. "You alright? Draco's mum didn't do anything, did she?"
Hermione blinks at him. Quickly shakes her head. "No. Nothing much. Guess she just didn't like someone like me getting too close to her."
Harry ducks his head awkwardly. "Oh. Look, Hermione, you know you're like, the best witch in the whole school, right? And that everything they say is—"
She smiles at him. "I know. A load of pureblood rot. It's fine. It honestly doesn't bother me. They're just ignorant. I feel sad for them."
Harry frowns, nodding to himself. "Yeah. They must be…pretty pathetic to believe all that. I mean, Draco should know better after seeing everything you can do. Bet the prat's just jealous."
Hermione laughs. "Don't let him hear you say that. Now come on. We'd better get Ron away from Viktor before he pounces on him." She can spot Ron edging over behind Harry, quill in his hand and taking a program from Ginny to start asking for autographs.
Harry gives her an odd look and then turns around. "Viktor? Since when do you call quidditch players by their first names? But— he really should leave him alone. I know what it's like when— Hey, Ron! Come on, let's go celebrate! Did you see Fred snuck some firewhisky into the tent and—"
"Firewhisky?!" Percy squawks, popping out of the crowd from nowhere. "Underage drinking is a serious issue, Potter. Something which I do not condone under any circumstances, celebratory or otherwise," he says overly loudly, looking at the Minister.
Mr Weasley pats him on the back good-naturedly as everyone ignores him. "Well said. But come on, think it's time for us to get out of here. Time to go, you lot. I'm sure everyone has their own celebrating to get to. Come on now, Ron, leave that young chap in peace. You too, Ginny. I see you there. Now where is— Ah, Bill, lead the way, would you?"
Shoot. Leaving already? But what about…
Hermione hangs back. Pretends to tie her shoe.
Keeps glancing at the Malfoys. What are they hiding? Who are they hiding?
Ron hangs back with her. "Good idea, catch them on the way out. Hey, you're a girl, they might pay more attention to you. Think you could like…bat your eyes at them or something?"
What?!
Hermione straightens and folds her arms. "Bat my eyes? What— no! Of course I'm not going to— What does that even mean? When have you ever seen me…flirt?"
Ron raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I dunno, alright. Just thought— it's something witches can do. Thought you could just…smile at them, maybe. You have a nice smile."
Oh.
Hermione sighs. Tucks her hair behind her ears awkwardly. "Thank you. But…it's not very me. Flirting. I'm just as…clueless as you are. You can just talk to them the same as I would, and…"
She's distracted as she spots Lucius introducing Draco to Viktor. She never knew that happened. Has that changed too?
She looks at Ron. Makes a decision.
Trust him. If she really is stuck in the past, then she's going to have to build some trust this year. She knows Ron can be rational. The Ron in the future is so clever. And sensible. He can do this, if he doesn't let his insecurities get in the way.
She can't have him feeling left out, with her or Harry. She's not having them fall out again if she can help it. Things have already changed. She might as well make things easier for herself.
So she moves closer to whisper to him. To confide in him. "I think the Malfoys are up to something. I can't explain it, but…Draco's mum. Narcissa. She's hiding something, I'm sure of it."
Ron frowns. Turns and stares—
Hermione tugs him back around. "Don't look! It's too suspicious. Just…go back to the others and say I left my purse behind and I'll catch up. I can stay here and— Oh shoot, she's leaving!"
Narcissa is slipping towards the exit. And she does look suspicious! She is definitely—
"See!" she hisses to Ron. "Why is she looking around like that? What's she up to?"
Ron nods, and they both edge their way to the end of the row. "Don't know, but you're right. She's walking weirdly too. She normally like…glides, doesn't she? That sounds stupid. It's probably nothing. Maybe she just really has to pee, I know I do."
Hermione looks at him in surprise. Glides?
He looks away. Rubs at the back of his neck uncomfortably.
Hermione catches his eye. "No, you're right. I hadn't even thought of that. She does usually move more fluidly."
Ron's shoulders fall slightly in relief. "Yeah. That's what I meant. Walks all proper."
They start following Narcissa down the steps, about a staircase behind so it's not too strange. "So…what do you think she's doing?" he whispers.
Hermione pulls out her wand. Casts a muffiliato. "I can't explain completely right now. I'll have to tell you more once we're somewhere private, and we can tell Harry too. But there's…I think she might be hiding someone. An invisible person. I saw someone take Harry's wand."
"What?!" Ron shouts. Pulls them to a stop. "Why didn't you say!" he says more quietly. "Someone stole Harry's wand?"
Hermione gives him a firm look. "Later. I'll explain later. It's dangerous. Until we know for sure who it is, we have to be discrete. Not let them know we know. Now come on, before she gets away. Or— maybe you should go find Harry before he comes looking for us."
They carry on down the last few flights. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ron asks. "Going alone? What if Malfoy shows up? I mean Lucius Malfoy. He's a nasty piece of work."
Hermione shakes her head. "I'll be fine. I know spells to hide."
"Or we could go back for Harry's cloak?"
Narcissa turns right, heading into the woods without a backward glance. Hermione falters, torn.
A cloak would be good. Concealment charms might not be enough.
But there isn't time. She has no idea where Narcissa is headed, or even where the Malfoy's tent is. Although she could probably guess. Look for the biggest one.
Did they even stay overnight in a tent? Or did they apparate in?
Oh gods, what if Narcissa has already disapparated—
Hermione shoves Ron towards the path. "Go back to the others. Tell them I'm catching up, and see if you can explain to Harry a little bit if you can. He doesn't have his wand, so watch out for him. Something bad might happen so— I'll see you later!"
And before he can protest, she taps herself on the head, the familiar feeling of a cold, raw egg sliding down over her as the concealment charm falls into place.
"Hermione!" he hisses, eyes darting around for her.
She just heads off between the trees, wand in her hand. It's dusk now. But she can't exactly cast a lumos.
Does Narcissa have night vision or something? This is ridiculous.
She fumbles her way over a few roots, feeling out for ditches and rabbit holes.
Oh.
She ducks behind a tree. There's a light ahead. So Narcissa has given in and used a lumos to light her way.
She sneaks closer, making sure to stick to the shadows. She thinks she must still be close to the path. Parallel, but hidden behind the trees. Narcissa must be heading back to the campsite.
Voices.
Hermione stops. Holds her breath. Yes. Yes, there are definitely voices ahead now. She can't quite make out…
She edges closer. Towards white wand light.
"…and that's my final word on the matter. We have not waited this long just for you to—"
And Hermione's breath is stolen from her lungs as cackling laughter filters through the trees towards her.
She covers her mouth in horror. No. No, it can't be—
"Waited? That's what you call it?" a witch's voice replies harshly. Followed by more laughter. Low and rough this time. "This isn't waiting. This is dying. A never-ending agony. And I might have given my word, but this is my decision to make. Enough. I've been patient with you, Cissy. But it's worn out. Enough now. It's my turn. Even if it means going back."
Hermione grabs hold of a tree to support herself as her knees almost give out in shock. That voice.
That hand. She'd recognised— she remembers—
The voices fall quiet once more, and Hermione dazedly drags herself closer. Pulling herself from one tree to the next. Has to see. Has to be sure—
"…sister?" Narcissa finishes saying, her voice an almost whisper. Oddly flat. "You can only accomplish this if—"
"Stupefy."
There's a dull thud, only a few metres away from Hermione now. She swallows harshly. Grips tightly at the tree she's reached, and ever so slowly peeks around.
There. A figure lying crumpled on the floor, just about visible in the fading light. Blonde hair glinting.
And another figure crouched at her side. Her polar opposite. Dark hair and black dress blending into the surrounding shadows.
"Obliviate," Bellatrix whispers, brushing some hair off her sister's forehead.
Then jumps to her feet. Spins around, wand held aloft.
And casting light over herself. A bright, shining lumos, beaming out of Harry's wand like a headlight, painting the forest scene in harsh, stark lines of light and shadow. It lights up the dark witch. Glowing skin. High cheekbones. Hooded eyes that scan around her. Her eyes are the only sign of movement now, the rest of her held firm. Perfectly still. Seeming not to breathe, all of her focus channelled into her search.
Hermione flinches back out of sight. Stays desperately still and tries to calm her thundering heart.
Closes her eyes. Can't bear it.
It's her. It's Bellatrix. She's— she's not in Azkaban. She's here. Right here. And she's armed, and she's looking right at—
Distant screams and shouts filter through the air. A sudden glow through the trees, not harsh and white but warm. Orange and smelling like smoke.
Birds begin to squawk and flap from the trees. Flying away. Escape. Danger. Danger is coming. Is here.
And Hermione flees too. Doesn't think. Just runs as fast as she can.
Towards the glow. Towards the screams. Towards the campsite, and the Death Eaters, and her friends who are helpless children in this burgeoning war.
She hears crashing behind her through the undergrowth. Doesn't look back. Doesn't dare. Feels her back pricking with sweat and her wand slip slightly in her grip as her fingers tingle, numbing.
Get away.
Fight.
Run.
Form a shield. Find a weapon.
Get to the tent.
Hide in the woods.
But the woods aren't safe now. There's a demon in the woods. A nightmare. A ghost. A boggart. A—
"Hello?" a voice calls cautiously.
Hermione stumbles to a stop. Harry?
"Who's there?" Harry calls again, and she can see him now. Him and Ron, getting to their feet in a nearby clearing and moving towards her.
She walks quickly to join them. "It's me. Come on, quickly. We have to—"
"Hermione! Thank Merlin you're okay, there's a riot or something at the camp. They've captured these muggles and—"
No!
She stumbles closer and pushes a hand over Harry's mouth. He said her name. He—
There's a rustling right behind them now, through the bushes. Hermione grabs hold of Harry's jacket and Ron's arm and urges them away, mouth not even able to form words as—
Harry looks over her shoulder, eyes wide.
"Morsmordre!" comes Bellatrix's excited shout.
And a green, glittering light bursts forth behind the treeline, erupting into the darkness and then up over the trees into the night sky. The Dark Mark. Glowing high above them.
Hermione watches in horror as the boys just stand there looking at it. She tugs at them. They have to move. Bellatrix is right behind them, just out of sight. Right there. She's right here and—
"Who's there?" Harry calls again innocently, ignoring Hermione and peering behind her in Bellatrix's direction.
"Harry, come on, move!" she calls desperately, tugging at the collar of his jacket.
And feels the concealment charm trickle off of her. She forgot about that. Thank Merlin.
Harry finally looks at her. Can see her. Takes in her expression. "What's the matter?
"It's the Dark Mark! You Know Who's sign!" she croaks out, pulling at him with all her might. They have to go! Bellatrix could come out and kill them any second!
"Voldemort's— Harry, come on!" Ron shouts, scooping up his dropped Viktor Krum figurine and leading them across the clearing, Harry finally running with them as—
Popping sounds fill the air. About twenty witches and wizards apparating into existence all around them, wands drawn and pointing—
"Duck!" Harry yells, dragging them all to the ground.
"Stupefy!" about twenty voices call out in unison, red lights sizzling through the air over their heads.
"Stop!" a voice yells. "Stop! That's my son!"
Arthur. Thank goodness. He's still there. Still here.
Hermione slowly sits up. Checks that Ron and Harry are still alright. They seem fine. Okay. Okay—
"Ron. Harry— Hermione?" Mr Weasley says shakily, coming towards them. "Are you all— all alright?"
"Out of the way, Arthur," Barty Crouch Senior clips, coming towards them. So he's still here. That hasn't changed…
Why? Why is Bellatrix—
Bellatrix! They need to catch her!
Hermione hurriedly gets to her feet. "It came from over there!" she interrupts, pointing to where Bellatrix had been. "There was someone behind the trees. They shouted a word. An incantation—"
"Oh, stood over there, were they?" Crouch practically spits at Hermione, eyes wide and bulging as he takes her in. Takes in all three of them suspiciously. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark was summoned, Miss…who are you?"
Uh oh. He's looking at her even more closely. And— she forgot! She looks older! Like an adult!
Mr Weasley clears his throat. "She's one of my son's friends. Hermione Granger. They're about to go into fourth year at Hogwarts, Mr Crouch."
Crouch's eyebrows pinch. He takes a step back.
Another wizard edges towards where Hermione pointed, wand at the ready. "I saw a stunner head this way. It could have got them…"
"Amos, be careful!" a witch calls.
Oh. Mr Diggory.
Hermione readies her own wand. If Bellatrix is still there, she could catch him by surprise and…
"No luck. No-one here," Amos Diggory sighs disappointedly as he parts the bushes. "They must have…There's a wand!"
Oh no…
He holds it up.
"Hey! That's my…wand," Harry trails off uncomfortably.
"Your wand?" Amos says sharply. "Is that a confession? You threw it aside after you summoned the Dark Mark?"
"Amos, remember who you're talking to! Would Harry Potter have conjured the Dark Mark?" Arthur says exasperatedly.
"Oh. Er…Sorry. Must have got carried away," Mr Diggory mumbles.
"I…didn't drop it there anyway," Harry says haltingly, glancing at Ron and then Hermione. "Think it slipped out of my pocket a while ago, during the match, I've been looking for it."
"During the match?" Diggory frowns, looking at Harry's wand and then handing it back to him, Harry sliding it straight back in his pocket.
Hermione nods. "It wasn't Harry. It was someone else. We heard them."
"Yeah, sounded like a witch," Ron adds.
Hmm. Should he have said that? This might complicate things if—
Harry agrees. "Definitely a witch. I saw—"
"Halt!" Diggory suddenly shouts, interrupting and looking further behind the bushes, wand raised once more. "Who goes there?! Who— Oh blimey."
And Narcissa Malfoy stumbles into the clearing, looking around dazedly.
Oh no…
"Mrs Malfoy!" Barty Crouch snaps, walking closer, wand directed at Narcissa and smiling sharply, eyes lighting up in triumph. "Could you explain what you are doing here?"
Narcissa blinks. Looks around.
Sees all of the wands pointed at her and reaches into her robes.
Wands raise—
"Stop!" Hermione shouts, stepping in front of Narcissa. "She seems confused! Can't you see? She's not threatening you!"
It's not Narcissa's fault that she's been obliviated! If twenty stupefies hit her, it could kill her!
"Step out of the way, girl. This is a Ministry investigation—"
"What is…might someone explain what is happening?" Narcissa asks timidly. "Where…how did I get here?"
Wands begin to lower.
Arthur cautiously steps closer. Looks over Hermione's shoulder at Narcissa.
"It could be a trap," Diggory whispers to him. "You know Malfoy—"
"Do you know your name?" Arthur gently asks Narcissa, searching her eyes.
Hermione moves sideways slightly.
Narcissa frowns. Rubs at her face. "I…yes, of course I do. Why would I not know my name?"
Arthur glances at the other wizards and witches, a concerned look forming. "Then…what is it?"
Narcissa's eyes dart back and forth. She looks at Arthur. Then Mr Diggory. Then Hermione. "I…Mrs Malfoy."
"…and your first name?" Arthur insists.
Narcissa begins to look panicked. Her eyes dart to everyone. To—
She points at Harry. "He's Potter. He— there's— there's a war. Some kind of— Where's my family? Where are we? I don't—"
She grabs hold of Hermione. "Who are they?" she whispers in her ear. "I'm not— I'm not telling them anything! Why should I—"
Touching Hermione? Okay, something is definitely wrong. How strong was that obliviate spell? How much did Bellatrix erase? Should Hermione tell anyone? There's a Death Eater on the loose! What if Bellatrix kills someone?
Her stomach twists anxiously. It somehow feels...wrong to tell them what she saw. Dangerous. Risky. Not when she knows so little about what's going on.
"The Granger girl's right, Barty. Definitely signs of a memory charm," a witch says firmly. "We should get her to St Mungo's. Mrs Malfoy? It's alright. I know you're confused, but we can help you. If you come to—"
Barty Crouch grabs Narcissa's arm. "Mrs Malfoy will be coming with us. She's been found at the scene of the crime, and her behaviour is suspicious to say the least. I'm sure a night in Azkaban will jog her memory quite—"
"No!" Narcissa shrieks in pure terror. "I won't— Get away! Get— don't take me— Please!"
She pushes at Crouch and turns to Hermione. "What did I do? What's happening? You— you have to— Don't let them take me! I'll die! I'll die if I—"
"Stupefy," Crouch says firmly.
Narcissa slumps. Hermione catches her, Harry jumping to help too. "Why did you do that?" he asks. "She was scared!"
"She's Lucius Malfoy's wife!" Crouch smiles sharply. "I knew it. I never believed that nonsense about an imperius curse. And here we are. At the scene of the crime."
"Mr Crouch, she was clearly distressed. Are you suggesting she modified her own memory?" Mr Weasley asks cautiously, casting a featherlight charm on Narcissa and taking her from Hermione and Harry.
"Of course she was distressed!" Diggory says. "She knew she was off to Azkaban. That her memory charm trick wasn't working, and she'd been caught out in her support for You Know Who, just like her sister!"
"Sister?" Ron asks. "Who's her sister?"
Mr Weasley hands Narcissa over to some aurors uncomfortably, giving Mr Diggory a quieting look. "Never mind that now. I should get these lot back to the tent and check on my other children."
He starts to usher them away. Hermione tries to stall. This is all wrong. This didn't happen. And she might dislike Narcissa, but she doesn't deserve this. "Mr Weasley, they can't lock her up! She's had her memory erased. Like Professor Lockhart. They need to help her."
Mr Weasley sighs tiredly. "I know, Hermione. But that's for the Wizengamot to decide. I'm sure a trial will sort this all out. They'll find evidence and—"
Oh!
Hermione comes to a stop. "That's it! Harry! Give me your wand! Mr Crouch! Mr Crouch, wait!"
She snatches Harry's wand as he holds it out and jogs back to the group of witch's and wizards. "You should perform prior incantato! Then you'll know what Harry's wand was used for!"
Crouch sneers at her. Spits out the spell, tip of his wand to Harry's.
"Morsmordre…" Harry's wand echoes quietly.
Hermione grins. "See? That proves Mrs Malfoy didn't do it! She must have been obliviated before this was cast."
Crouch folds his arms. "Proves? It proves nothing, Girl. Or have you forgotten that Mrs Malfoy has a wand of her own?"
Oh. Shoot. Yes, she could have…
But did she?
Hermione frowns. "Is she armed? I didn't see a wand. Even when you grabbed her, she didn't use a wand."
"Uhh…she's right, Mr Crouch," an auror calls. "The lady's unarmed. We've searched her."
Unarmed…
Hermione swallows. Bellatrix. Bellatrix must have taken her wand too. Used Harry's to disarm her sister, but taken Narcissa's to use.
How horrible. And selfish. So she's taken her sister's memories, left her alone and confused, framed her for her own crimes, and left her unarmed to get arrested?
Cruel. Bellatrix is so cruel. Even to her own family.
Harry comes around next to her and takes his wand back. "Come on, Hermione," he says softly. "We need to see if Ginny and the others are okay."
She nods to herself. Looks around at all the witches and wizards.
At Narcissa Malfoy lying unconscious on the floor once again.
It's fine. She recognises some of these people. They're…rational, right? Good people? Like Mr Diggory. And Amelia Bones is still alive. So she'll be in charge. She'll make sure this is…a fair investigation.
Won't she?
Hermione turns her back, and walks away towards Ron and Arthur. Ignores the guilt churning in her stomach. Tries to forget the fear in Narcissa's eyes as she'd clutched at her shoulders like a lifeline.
Left lying on the floor. Surrounded by enemies. And Hermione is doing nothing. Leaving her there. Even though she knows she was telling the truth. It was Bellatrix's fault.
It was Bellatrix.