Chapter 7: Keep Your HeadChapter Text
Hermione was wrong.
Completely off the mark when it came to her predictions about how long the year was going to feel, because the next few weeks fly by. Time playing tricks on her again.
It seems like the professors have collectively decided that as they'll be missing so much class time due to the tournament, they're going to cram a year load of homework into the first term, essays coming out of their ears. It's not too bad for Hermione, as she can still remember most of it, although History of Magic is a struggle, but Harry and Ron are always behind with something these days, scribbling down the last few inches of their essay over breakfast.
And she's often falling asleep in her cereal too. This goblet business is tricky. She's read almost two dozen books now, and still has no idea how to stop Harry's name getting in the goblet without disrupting the whole tournament. She's not sure she wants to go that far.
At this point, the only plan they've got is Ron's suggestion of tackling Bellatrix and locking her in a trunk of her own until the champions are chosen.
Which would be very satisfying…
But impossible. They can never pin the witch down. She's already shown she can break free of a petrificus totalus, and Hermione swears she must have found a way of apparating inside Hogwarts because…she seems to appear and disappear at the drop of a hat! There and gone and grinning as people jump out of her way.
Hermione stares up at the dormitory ceiling, arithmancy book lying on her chest. Wednesday night. It's Wednesday night. Thursday tomorrow. Defense class. And then the other schools arrive on Friday for the tournament.
The champions will be decided on Saturday.
She puts her book on the floor and rubs her eyes with a groan. Think. You can do this. You just have to stop one witch from putting one piece of paper into one goblet. It can't be that difficult.
Except she's a sneaky, devious, deadly, murderous, surprisingly smart, highly unpredictable, practically criminal mastermind witch!
You are not making Harry fight a dragon! Think of something!
What else is there? Warding, protection, or…poison Bellatrix? Make her sick, so she's stuck in the hospital wing?
Except she always drinks out of a flask. And casts detection spells on her food as part of her Moody-disguise. Paranoia.
Magic…is power. Words are power.
What words is Bellatrix using to break Dumbledore's protection spells? Other than Harry's name?
She supposes that's it, really. Bellatrix is old enough to cross the age line. She just has to trick the goblet into choosing Harry's name when he's nowhere near the strongest candidate.
So how is she doing that?
Inner strength…
Once again, she thinks about what Charlie had said. That people can…feel magic. It's a thought that keeps coming back to her. Instead of fighting it, you accept it. A different way of seeing the magical world. Ancient. Like dragons do.
Hermione closes her eyes. Reaches her hand back and presses it to the stone wall behind her. The castle. Hogwarts has so much magic. She should be able to feel it.
She's been trying, at least, for the past couple of weeks. Every now and then.
Can she feel anything? Magic is all around her. It's like she's…desensitised to it. The same way you can't smell your own scent.
She picks up her wand instead. She can feel that. Like a comfortable hum.
She makes it blue in her mind. Just to visualise it. Mental associations are always helpful, and she can't think of a dangerous spell that's light blue, so she won't accidentally set the curtains alight or something.
She reaches behind her once more. Brushes her fingers against the wall. Purple. Make Hogwarts purple. Try to feel…
Something. Maybe something. But she's not sure.
She tries again.
She needs anything, at this point. Any magic she can get.
She spends all of the next day feeling for magic. Really tries this time, consistently. More than she has over the last few weeks. She assigns colours to different people, the same as she did for herself last night.
And quickly realises that it is surprisingly difficult, and that she doesn't know enough colours that she can picture clearly.
Instead, she whispers names to herself in her head. She's going for a Pavlovian approach. Every time she uses magic, before she does anything, she whispers Hermione to herself. Even for the tiniest hover charm. Hermione. This is her magic.
And every time someone else picks up their wand, she does the same.
Harry accios a glass towards him at breakfast. Harry.
Ron repairs his ripped star chart. Ron.
Every demonstration in transfiguration class. McGonagall.
And all the while, when they're covering something she's already learnt before and doesn't need all of her attention for, she focuses on feeling the magic. Feeling her own magic, and trying to…open up.
By the afternoon she's exhausted. But that might be the concentration more than the magic. And all of the nights she's stayed up reading and writing essays.
Except for DADA. They don't get many essays for that. Bellatrix seems to be taking a very practical approach, much like the previous Moody imposter in Hermione's memories.
Apparently Death Eaters all enjoy trying out curses on teenagers. Bellatrix seems determined to teach them every counter-curse in existence. Every spell, and how best to fight it.
It's oddly helpful, actually. Hermione doesn't know if she's just showing off and getting carried away, but she really is schooling them on absolutely everything in the textbook and more besides.
By…showing them the curses.
Hermione gives Harry and Ron encouraging looks as Bellatrix strides into the classroom, wand already drawn and face set in a stern glare. "Out of your seats!"
And that's the only warning they get before her wand is moving through the air, and all of the stools and desks push themselves along the classroom walls.
Hermione watches intently. Feels the magic as she backs into the centre of the room. Bellatrix.
"That's it. Everyone in the— Watch it, Longbottom! Vigilance! That means not bumping into anyone!" Bellatrix barks.
Neville flushes and steps away from Seamus, who just nudges him back with a grin.
"As I was saying," Bellatrix continues. "We won't be needing desks. Today, I'm going to be testing each of you. One by one. Every single one of you is going to fight off whatever curse, hex, or jinx I send your way. All of them. Including the imperius curse. We'll see if you can do better than Miss Patil did, now you've had a bit of training."
"But it's illegal to—"
"Dumbledore wants you to know what it feels like," Bellatrix snaps, interrupting Ron. "But if you want to face it for the first time unprepared with an enemy whispering into your head…then you're free to head on out the door."
She gestures to the classroom door.
Ron clenches his jaw shut. Doesn't leave.
Bellatrix nods. "As I thought. Right. Finnegan. You're up."
Hermione grips her wand tighter. Curses. Random curses, flying unpredictably from Bellatrix.
That…
Surely she can't get away with that? Is…how are curses usually taught in class? This can't be allowed. When Snape had taught them in sixth year…
He had sometimes used spells on them.
Hermione keeps her wand at the ready, just in case, and watches uneasily as each of her classmates just...goes along with it. Bellatrix doesn't try too hard, which makes it a bit more acceptable. Professor persona. Doesn't jump around or cackle. Just stands in the centre of the room, sending spells calmly. Verbally. Slowly.
First at Seamus, who manages to block a petrificus totalus but quickly stumbles into a stupefy, unable to get another shield up in one try. Then Lavender, who makes use of the desks, hiding behind them until Bellatrix growls out a reminder to use magic and bring up a protego.
Lavender does, but it's weak, flickering, and Bellatrix's hex travels straight through it.
Boils. She gives Lavender boils, all over her face. Lavender bursts into tears.
Bellatrix just shrugs. "Put more power into your shield next time. And it's nothing to cry about if you know the anti-hex. Do you know it?"
Lavender shakes her head, frantically flicking through her textbook.
Bellatrix shrugs again. "Should have studied. Okay then. Longbottom!"
And it continues. Neville is instantly hit with a dancing legs jinx, stumbling around and accidentally dropping his wand. Bellatrix moves on to Dean without comment. Then Ron.
She casts the imperius curse at Ron. Straight away. No warning.
Ron tries to resist, but only makes it a few seconds before he's pirouetting and gliding around the room in a one person waltz, arms held aloft. Steps in time to imaginary music. Far more graceful than Ron's dancing has ever been. Bellatrix Hermione thinks as the witch controls his every move. Bellatrix. It's her magic doing this. Feel it.
And then there's Harry. Harry, who steps forward and braces himself as soon as his name is called.
Bellatrix sighs. "Here we go, then. Potter. I'm…going to try something different with you."
Different?
Hermione steps forward with a frown. What does different mean? What is she going to do to Harry?
Bellatrix's gaze darts towards Hermione. She subtly shakes her head. Lowers her wand.
Looks back at Harry. "I know you're quick. Fast. You have good instincts. I know you can cast a protego, which is good enough for pretty much all of these. But what I want to see, is how resilient you are. Strong willed. So…I'm going to cast the imperius curse, like I did with Weasley. You're not going to block it. You're going to fight it. Break free from it. Alright?"
No! Not alright! Don't just let her—
Harry nods. Lowers his wand too. Stands tall, and accepts the challenge.
Hermione steps forward again. "Harry—"
"Imperio," Bellatrix mutters.
Harry's eyes lose their spark. His face falls slack.
Bellatrix looks around the room in thought. Accios a desk over. "Jump onto the desk," she whispers.
Oh. Same as before. Except...
Bellatrix, Hermione thinks. Her magic. It feels...
Harry bends his knees.
Pauses. Frowns.
He's doing it! He's resisting! Harry, Hermione thinks. Harry's magic. Fighting back.
"Jump onto the desk," Bellatrix says, a bit louder this time.
Bellatrix
Harry doesn't move.
Harry
Bellatrix steps closer. She's breathing faster. Eyes scanning over Harry, almost excitedly. "Jump! Now!" she shouts. Bellatrix.
And Harry jumps. Except his feet stay on the floor. Legs bending and straightening, but not lifting very high, smacking against the edge of the desk.
He falls backwards onto the floor with a thump. "Ow!"
"Now that's more like it!" Bellatrix shouts. Looks around at all of them. "Did you all see that? Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll do that again, Potter. Come on. Get up."
Harry stumbles to his feet, eyes watering and rubbing at his knees, looking like trying again is the last thing he wants to do. "What about Hermione?" he mutters.
Bellatrix pauses. The magical eye spins in Hermione's direction.
Bellatrix huffs. "No stamina, huh lad? Fine. I'll give you a break. Granger, get over here."
To be imperioed?
Hermione takes a sharp breath. Pulls out her wand. "No."
Bellatrix's head jerks to face her. "We haven't started yet. You can fight back in a minute. You'll know when you feel it."
Hermione shakes her head. Raises her wand. "No. I'm not going to willingly have my mind taken away. Like you said. Constant vigilance. Why should I trust you?"
Bellatrix raises an eyebrow. Her lip twitches. "Because I'm your professor."
Hermione laughs. Can't help it. "So was Quirrell. So was Lockhart. So is Professor Trelawney, or Professor Snape, but I wouldn't want their wands pointed at me."
Surprisingly, Bellatrix barks out a laugh too. "So you are a smart one. That's what everyone's been saying, but I haven't seen it yet. Although not as smart as you think. Why tell an enemy your reasoning, hmm? Your allegiances? You don't trust me, and now I know who else you don't tru—"
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione shouts. She doesn't want to talk? Fine. Hermione. Feel your magic.
But Bellatrix just blocks it. Bellatrix. Glares at Hermione, nostrils flaring and wand arm outstretched. "Imperio," she growls.
Bellatrix… Hermione briefly manages to think. And then…
Warm. Floating. Everything is so nice, and light. Peaceful. Her worries fade from her mind. What worries? What was she worried about?
Tell me the password to the map.
What?
Tell me how to open it.
Oh. Well, that's easy. It's—
Bellatrix.
Wait. Wait…what password? The map? She shouldn't tell anyone that!
Tell me. What are the words, Granger?
Granger. Bellatrix.
Tell me! Now!
"No!" Hermione shouts. Feels a surge of pure panic, and the buzz and crackle of—
Stumbles backwards, hitting into the desk and rubbing her arm. She can feel tears running down her cheeks. "I'm not— not telling you anything!" she stutters out, backing away from…
Mad-Eye Moody. Oh. Classroom.
She wipes at her face.
Bellatrix's magical eye is going crazy. Spinning around, darting over Hermione. "Another strong minded one," Bellatrix hums. "Stubborn. Bit of a given with Gryffindors, but to have two of you in one year is quite the anomaly. There's not many witches or wizards who can fight that. That temptation. One in a thousand…I'd say."
Hermione steps closer to Ron and Harry. Tries to get her breathing under control. She can't breathe.
"And to fight against me…" Bellatrix continues. "To fight me off completely…"
She raises her wand again. Hermione flinches.
"Right, Potter," Bellatrix barks. "Get back over here. Fight me again. Beat it properly this time, like Granger did."
Harry swallows. Frowns at Hermione and then raises his own wand. "No."
And with a grunt, Bellatrix has jerked her wand through the air, disarming Harry of his wordlessly. "Stubbornness isn't everything," she barks. "You defied me, an opponent you know is stronger, and now you've lost your weapon. Think. Don't just copy your friends or give me what you think I want."
Harry's eyes dart to his fallen wand. "You're not stronger," he says. "Hermione is. She just beat you, and that surprised you. Scared you. That's why you're always on guard and scaring us. Because you're scared."
He edges behind a desk. Closer to his wand.
Bellatrix chuckles. "A good try. Taunt your opponent. Knock their confidence. Anger them, so they don't think so carefully. But again. Brash. Reckless. And too busy talking to think of your own plan. Imperio!"
Harry lunges for his wand too late, right into Bellatrix's path. Bellatrix.
"Did you see what he did wrong? Never rely on luck. Never underestimate an opponent. Never try to play the hero, even if you are one. And…"
Harry walks over to the classroom window.
"…never expect the enemy to play fair. That your owl at the window, Potter? Beautiful snowy owl. She seems to want to come in. Be a good lad and let her."
Hedwig?
Hermione moves closer to the window. It is Hedwig. And she has a letter.
Harry opens the window latch. Doesn't even seem to resist.
Ron comes up next to Hermione, eyes wide. "What if it's from him?" he whispers in her ear.
Him?
Oh no. Sirius.
Hedwig flies into the room, settling on a desk and holding out her leg.
Bellatrix walks over to Hedwig. Reaches into her robes and pulls out…an owl treat. Offers it to the bird.
Hedwig ignores her.
Bellatrix huffs. "Come get your post, Potter. Let your loyal familiar get some rest. Looks like she's been on a long journey for you."
Harry practically runs towards Hedwig. Unties the letter and puts it in his pocket—
"Stop!" Bellatrix shouts. "Read it aloud."
"You can't!" Neville shouts. Then falters. Continues more hesitantly. "I mean, you shouldn't. Letters are private."
Bellatrix shrugs. "Then he'll stop me. He did it before. He just has to mean it. Hurry up, Potter. Let's see who's been writing to you."
And now Harry is fighting. Clenching his fists at his sides and jerking. Twitching. Struggling.
His hand jolts into his robe pocket.
"Accio letter!" Ron shouts. The letter flies—
Harry snatches it from the air with a seeker's speed. Opens it up. "Harry," he reads. "I'm flying north immediately. This news about your— your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumours that— that— that—"
The parchment crumples in Harry's fist, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
He shakes his head and shoves the paper into his pocket. "No. I'm not— I'm not reading it!" he shouts, eyes sharp once more.
Silence fills the room.
The bell rings.
"Flying north," Bellatrix mutters. "Sounds like you've got a visitor coming, Potter. A reunion? Won't that be nice."
And she bends down and picks Harry's wand up off the floor. "Homework for the week is once again to keep your wits about you. We all have visitors arriving tomorrow. All Hallows' Eve soon enough..."
Her eyes move over Harry, considering. She hands him back his wand. Chuckles darkly. "Funny time of year. Keep your heads down, but your eyes up, the lot of you. Class dismissed."
And she turns on her heel, limping out of the room, desks and stools rearranging themselves behind her as everyone scrambles out of the way.
Harry ducks under a desk and grabs his bag, eyes lowered.
"You alright, mate?" Ron whispers. "You both did bloody well fighting her off. It wasn't your fault that—"
"I'm fine!" Harry snaps.
Then kicks a stool so it goes crashing across the room, making Lavender and Parvati squeal as they dodge out of the way.
Harry cringes. A flash of regret. Looks at Hermione and Ron. "It is my fault. I told him about my scar, and my dream, over the summer. And now he's coming. Risking his neck. Could get caught by the Ministry, or the dementors, and now she knows too. She knows everything! Knows what my ruddy bird looks like and— Did you see her face? She knows. She knows something."
Hermione sighs. Loops her arm through his and walks him towards the door. "It's not your fault. Ron's right, you did everything you could. They're the adults. He can make his own decisions. And…if it helps, this happened last time too. He came last time."
Harry's head jerks up. "Yeah? And he was alright? They didn't spot him?"
Hermione feels her face freeze up. Forces a smile and pretends to rearrange some books in her bag so she can look away. "Only his…furrier form. No-one recognised him. He was pretty careful. Stayed in the background."
This year. Next year, on the other hand…
Ron claps Harry on the back as his shoulders fall in relief. "See? You were wicked, mate. Pretty much told her to sod off with that letter reading bollocks. And hey, between us?"
Hermione raises an eyebrow. Waits.
Ron grins. "I reckon I could have stopped her too. But that was good practice, wasn't it? For the Ball. Thought I'd let her take me for a bit of a spin around the room. She gave away some good moves. Think Miss Brilliant fancies herself a bit of a dancer."
Harry shoves him with a laugh. "Give off! You did not want dance practice!"
Ron grins wider. "I did! The voice was all: stand up straight, Weasley, and follow these steps. You're a pureblood. Act like it. Don't be an embarrassment, or no witch will ever want to dance with you. And I thought, you know what? Fair enough!"
Harry smiles. "You did look pretty elegant, I'll give her that. It was an improvement to your usual lolloping. She must know her stuff."
"Oy!" Ron complains. "I don't lollop. Let's see you dance if you're so clever."
Harry runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Everyone will at this rate. Maybe I'll have to ask Moody for dance lessons too. All the champions have to dance. And…unless you've come up with something, Hermione, it looks like I'm still going to be one."
Hermione steps out of the way of a suit of armour, turning the corner towards the entrance stairs, frowning. "She's not a dancer. She's a Death Eater. The only time she looks like she's dancing is when she's spinning through spellfire. She's arrogant. And she's getting cocky. And we are not letting her win. She's toying with us. You shouldn't let her."
She doesn't know why she's suddenly angry, but she is. She knows Ron is joking. Just cheering Harry up. But he shouldn't. They shouldn't joke about this. Shouldn't humanise Bellatrix. Talk about her possible dance skills and…relax around her. They need to keep their distance. Not be pulled into her…strange charisma, and presence, and that confusing blend of knowledgeable teacher and screaming threat.
"So uhh…you've seen one? A real fight? With…her?" Ron asks hesitantly as they join the dinner crowd.
Hermione grips her wand tighter. Feels it. The hum. Hermione.
She looks at Ron and opens her mouth to—
The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. An instinct. A feeing. A sense.
She spins around—
"Constant—" Bellatrix barks out—
"Silencio!" Hermione whispers, sending the charm over the crowd and up to the top of the stairway.
Moody's mouth opens. No words come out.
The magical eye searches out Hermione. And the real eye.
Hermione smirks.
Bellatrix.
She'd felt it. She's sensed her magic. And if their homework is to be more vigilant…
Then Hermione is going to pass with flying colours.
Ron elbows Hermione in the side as he cranes to get a better view of the lake. "You're not pulling my leg? It'll really be him? Here? Viktor Krum?"
Hermione rubs at her side and smiles. "Really. But he's honestly just an ordinary wizard. He's…a good quidditch player—"
"— bloody great quidditch player."
"— and he trains hard, but he's also pushed hard. Has a lot of expectations riding on him. And he doesn't like all the fame and attention, so don't go asking him for an autograph or anything, we'll get one later."
Ron gives her a sheepish look. Slides his quill back into his robes. "I wasn't going to. I mean, unless he just happened to sit with us. Maybe if we get— look!"
And he almost knocks Dennis Creevey over as he steps forwards, pointing at the lake. A mast is appearing.
Harry snorts. "You sure Ron doesn't ask Krum to the Ball?" he whispers to her.
Hermione laughs quietly. "Well last time he asked Fleur and got rejected. Maybe he'll change it up this time."
Harry glances back towards the castle. "So Fleur Delacour, Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum, and me."
Hermione slowly shakes her head, eyes on Karkaroff as he greets Dumbledore. "No. No, I've…I've decided…well if we can't get you out of it, then I'm putting my name in too."
Harry grabs her arm. "What?!" he says a bit too loudly. Gets a glare from McGonagall.
He mouthes an apology, but continues to stare at Hermione like she's grown a second head.
Hermione ignores him. It's perfectly reasonable. She's old enough to pass the age line. Harry will need an ally. Especially in the maze. Just in case. In the graveyard, if it goes that far, which she really hopes it won't. If worst comes to worst, she's at least saving Cedric. It might not even work, but…
Well, she can give it a shot. She's brave. And resilient. And she knows more now than any of the teenagers. There isn't an upper age limit. And she's a representative of Hogwarts. She'll try to get Harry out of it, but if not, last resort, she's fighting with him.
Harry keeps trying to catch her eye. She smiles at him and shakes her head. Non-negotiable.
And it's time for them to go inside, everyone hurrying up the steps after Durmstrang, the French students already inside trying to get warm. Hermione still can't understand it. Silk robes. On a Scottish mountain. Why?
Everyone around them is just as bad as Ron now, Seamus jumping to see the back of Viktor's head, and Lavender wondering if he can sign something in lipstick as she forgot her quill.
They enter the hall. Watch Beauxbatons settle at the Ravenclaw table, and the Durmstang students head for Slytherin. Ron gives her a pleading look. "He's about to sit with Malfoy," he whines. "Can we at least warn him about that tosser?"
Hermione pushes him towards the Gryffindor table. "He'll figure it out. He's observant enough to see through it. Let's just sit down and—"
Harry.
Hermione turns and frowns at Harry. "Did you just use magic?"
She'd felt it. Like a hum. Or a spark.
He shrugs. "Yeah. A warming spell. So what?"
A warming spell…
Hermione nods to herself.
Stops next to the Ravenclaw table and scans along it for Fleur.
More allies? Is that a good idea?
Can't hurt. And it will be nice to see Fleur. She misses her.
She looks for…
Luna. Opposite Fleur. Well that's handy.
She beckons to Harry and Ron, and makes her way over. "Hi Luna," she says brightly, knowing Luna won't think anything of it, even though they've barely spoken yet. "That's a…nice necklace. Did you make it yourself?"
Luna turns to look at her. Then looks down at her peacock feather necklace as if only just noticing it. "Oh yes. Professor Moody gave me the idea, you see. It's easier to be vigilant if people think you have a lot of eyes on them. That's what peacocks use their feathers for. As fake eyes. Why are you talking to me, Hermione Granger?"
Hermione blinks. It's been a while since she's spoken to Luna. She's gotten out of the strange rhythm of it.
"Uhh, you haven't talked to Ginny, have you, Luna?" Ron asks. "Only she's been giving us the silent treatment for ages, and we don't really know why."
Luna tilts her head at him thoughtfully. "No. You don't understand. But you will eventually, it's alright. And Ginny has found some new people to talk to. So she's not alone, don't worry. Is that why you're here? You need to sit down at your table soon. People are funny about these things. Houses. Years. Ages."
She turns and looks across at Fleur. "This is a very peculiar school, but it can be very nice," she explains. "When people aren't stealing your clothes. Is that why you're cold too?"
Fleur scoffs, mouth open and seemingly appalled that this strange girl is even addressing her. "Our clothes are not stolen! It is the chateau that is too…open. The cold air is everywhere, even inside. Why do you live like this?"
Hermione pulls out her wand with a sigh. "It is a rather harsh climate, yes. But there's always magic to keep us warm. You should remember that too, Luna. Here."
She casts a warming charm on Luna. Then on herself. Then on Ron. "Anyone else?"
Fleur shakes her hair behind her shoulders with a tut. "We can also do magic. We do not need your help. We just thought you would be more welcoming…but…"
And she casts a warming spell at herself and the other Beauxbatons around her.
They all relax in relief. Hmm. Strange. Why didn't they do that earlier?
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts, and, most particularly, guests!" Dumbledore calls.
Hermione hastily sits down next to Luna, dragging Harry and Ron with her. They get some odd looks, but at least there's lots of space, and Luna seems happy not to be sat alone anymore.
"I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be comfortable and enjoyable."
Fleur lets out a derisive laugh. Guess she still hasn't grown up yet either. Hermione forgot how arrogant and spoilt she used to be. Kind of wants to kick her, under the table.
Ron and Harry seem to have other ideas. Staring across at the witch and practically drooling.
Oh.
Is that what's so funny? Fleur's uncomfortable…because of the boys?
Hermione…feels out for Fleur's magic. It's easier to feel than everyone else's. The Veela thrall.
Hermione takes her wand out of her pocket and holds it in front of her casually. But pointed backwards. At Ron and Harry. "Protego…totus corpus," she tries under her breath. Protect the whole body. From the Veela.
Luna leans to whisper to her. "Not body. Mind."
Oh.
"Protego mentes," she whispers, combining a protego wand movement with the legilimens movement. Protect the minds.
And Fleur's gaze snaps to hers. Harry and Ron shift in their seats. Rub at their mouths and look down in surprise at the dishes of food that have appeared whilst they were gawping. Pick up their cutlery.
It worked. It actually worked. She can feel it. Or she can't feel it. Fleur's magic stopping behind the shield.
Hermione smiles at the witch. Shrugs.
Leaves her shield up and picks up her fork with her other hand to begin eating.
Fleur slowly begins to eat too. Reaches for the bouillabaisse. Eyeing Hermione suspiciously.
Hermione takes a breath and turns to Luna. "So. Tell me about these stolen clothes. I think it's high time you got them back, don't you?"
Chapter 8: Stand VigilChapter Text
Hermione has to recast the shield spell a few times during dinner to keep the boys focused and Fleur free from their creepy leering, but now she has other things to focus on.
Because this is it. Their last chance. Twenty-four hours. From…now!
Filch carries the jewel encrusted casket containing the goblet down the aisle and over to the table in front of Dumbledore, who smiles and nods. "There will be three tasks spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in different ways. Their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction, and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
Hermione scribbles it all down on a piece of parchment. So those are the differentials! She'd forgotten! Maybe that will come in useful. Not that she has much time for any calculations. She's run out of time, to be honest. It's embarrassing. The amount of times she's scolded Harry and Ron for leaving things to the last minute is— But this is difficult! Too difficult! Outsmarting Bellatrix, whilst having to keep up the teenage act and not causing any kind of diplomatic friction by tampering with an ancient relic or disrupting—
"…The Goblet of Fire!" Dumbledore announces, breaking her from her thoughts. He draws his wand with a flourish, and taps on the casket three times, the lid creaking open so he can pull out the small, wooden goblet, magical blue flames dancing around the rim.
"Didn't think it was going to be that small," Harry whispers. "Think we can just nick it once everyone's gone to bed? Hide it in a sock drawer?"
Hermione smiles and shakes her head. If only.
"So! Anybody wishing to compete must clearly write their name and school on a piece of parchment, and place it in the goblet some time in the next twenty-four hours," Dumbledore continues.
Oh!
Oh that's it! Hermione can remember now! She can't believe she forgot!
Schools!
That's how Crouch did it. He confunded the goblet into thinking there were four schools. That way, Harry was the only option for the last, imaginary school. And so had to be chosen. One hundred percent probability.
So if Bellatrix is doing the same thing…they could maybe catch her in the act and have the confundus removed! Counter it!
They'd have to get the timing right…and she'd definitely notice what they're up to…
But it's something.
She grins at Harry. Nudges Ron. "I have a plan!" she breathes out excitedly. "I think I know how she's going to do it!"
Ron and Harry duck closer to her, eyes sparking with a mixture of excitement and relief. "So? What is it?" Harry whispers.
Hermione nods. "We have to stand guard over the goblet. You'll need to get your cloak, and we'll have to take turns. Two of us at least at all times. For twenty-four hours. Thank Merlin it's Saturday tomorrow." Constant vigilance. How ironic.
Ron sighs. "Great. And if we're guarding it…what do we do when she does show up?"
Hermione gets to her feet with a determined nod. "She taught us. Counter-curses, remember? There's one for everything. Words. Magic is limitless. If all three of us form a strong enough counter-spell and hold it for long enough, at the right moment, she won't be able to trick the goblet. She's going to use—"
She pauses to move out of the way as Karkaroff passes with Viktor.
"Thank you," Karkaroff says absentmindedly. Then spots Harry and does a double take, freezing in place.
He stares at Harry's scar, as do all of the Durmstrang students stopping behind him to see what's going on. Harry stares back uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," a voice growls from behind the crowd of students.
Karkaroff whirls around. The Durmstrang students part. Edge away from Moody.
"You!" Karkaroff shouts shakily, hoarsely, as if he can't believe his eyes.
"Me," Bellatrix replies grimly, leaning on her wooden staff. "And unless you've got anything you want to say to Potter, you'd better move. You're blocking the aisle."
Karkaroff pales even further, and then turns without comment, leading his confused students out of the Hall and back to the ship. Bellatrix watches him go, an…unreadable expression on her face.
Hermione sits back down on the bench, avoiding eye contact, but watching the witch out of the corner of her eye.
Then glances at Harry. Nods to the door. Go. Get the cloak.
Harry seems to read her mind, nodding at Bellatrix and then quickly leaving.
And Bellatrix wanders back over to the staff table. Way too close to the goblet for comfort. Magical eye scanning the room.
Her eye. Now that's another problem. Hermione has no idea how that eye is powerful enough to see through Harry's cloak, but it is. The cloak won't help against Bellatrix.
But it will help them sneak back and forth to the Common Room over the next twelve hours. And not be seen by anyone else. So if Bellatrix sees them guarding the goblet…
There's nothing they can do about it. She'll know they're suspicious. And that's that.
But they could still stop her. Get in the way. Derail her plan.
And that's the only hope they've got.
Hermione readies her wand. And waits.
It's twenty minutes before Bellatrix leaves. Twenty minutes of Hermione and Ron pretending to look over some transfiguration notes, all whilst keeping their wands trained on the goblet.
A difficult thing to do surreptitiously, with a magical eye that can see straight through a table scanning over them.
But Bellatrix does leave, and Harry comes jogging in to meet them. No cloak in sight.
"C'mon then," Harry says overly loudly. "Stop studying you two, it's Friday night. Seamus has started a game of exploding snap up in the Common Room."
And he pulls them towards the door.
"Harry!" Hermione hisses. "We can't—"
"Snape!" he mutters back, opening his robes to show her the invisibility cloak held under his arm.
Oh.
Snape has followed Harry in, watching from the entrance. Shoot.
Well they definitely need to be careful about putting the cloak on now.
Although at least with Snape here, Bellatrix can't do anything.
They reach the doorway.
Snape raises an eyebrow at them. "Trying to slip your name in before the age line is drawn, Potter? Or you, Weasley? I thought Miss Granger would have warned you against such foolish, asinine behaviour."
Harry glances at Hermione and then grins. "Actually it was Hermione who wanted to hang around and see how age lines work, Professor. We were hoping we could watch Professor Dumbledore perform the spell."
…What? Well…that could work.
Since when is Harry so sneaky?
Snape seems to be thinking the same thing, staring down at Harry, and then directing his fury at Hermione instead when Harry doesn't react. "So now even the Headmaster owes you a private lesson, does he Miss Granger? You think so much of yourself that you believe you deserve to be set apart from your peers. How grand it must be…above them all…"
"Now, now, Severus," a voice comes from behind them. Dumbledore. "No need to quell such inquisitive minds. It is, after all, the mark of a true young scholar, to question and investigate the ins and outs of magic. Something I believe you yourself have always been adept at."
Snape draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes, just briefly, as if drawing on his last ounce of willpower to get through this interaction without snapping anyone's necks.
Dumbledore smiles twinklingly. "Mr Weasley, would you be so kind as to fetch the goblet for me? It can go in the centre of the room, once we've gotten these cumbersome tables out of the way. Shall we, Severus?"
Ron hastily jogs off towards the goblet, looking a bit unsure about if he's allowed to touch it, eyeing the flames warily.
And Harry pulls Hermione back out of the way as tables begin to hover around them. Snape and Dumbledore working together to move one at a time to the far edges of the room.
"You and Ron might have to take first watch," Harry whispers. "There's no way Snape will let me out of his sight. Here."
He opens her bag and shoves his cloak inside.
Hermione quickly nods. "It's seven o'clock now, so we have three hours before curfew. Try to get some sleep, but be back here before ten so Filch doesn't catch you. Then Ron can go back and get some sleep. I'll tell him to wake up at five to come and take over for me, and then we'll be free to take turns throughout the day without it being suspicious."
Harry groans quietly to himself. "Let's just hope we catch her before midnight so—"
"There we are," Dumbledore sighs contentedly. "Just there is fine, Ronald, my boy. Thank you, Severus. You were a marvellous help."
Snape doesn't respond.
Dumbledore continues beaming at them all. "Right then. Don't be shy, gather round. Ah! But what am I saying? Stop!"
They all freeze.
Dumbledore chuckles to himself. "We can't have any of you on the wrong side of the line. Now that would be quite the conundrum, especially for those too young to cross back. Yes. I suppose I should mark the circumference!"
And with a sweeping, swish of his wand, hands outstretched as though conducting, Dumbledore turns in a slow circle, a gold line engraving itself into the stone floor under their feet. A wide, ten foot circle all around the goblet. Dumbledore, she thinks to herself. She thinks she might be able to feel his magic already. A…presence.
Ron nudges her. "Quite a lot of entrances to watch," he murmurs, looking around.
Hmm. He's right. The main door isn't the only way in, especially for staff.
"And now for the incantation! Or in this case…some magic of my own making," Dumbledore winks. "With a little help from fundamental charms, of course. Have to remember those wand movements. And so…"
He clears his throat, eyes glinting. "Cavete intrantes, nec sapientia nec robore vos succurrent. Septendecem aetatis superare necesse, nisi expellemini ex circulo. Barba crescit, caput nescit!"
And for a shining moment, they're blinded by a domed, neon blue light.
And then nothing.
The thin golden line the only hint of a boarder.
But…
Hermione feels out. Dumbledore.
Yes. Still there. Hanging in the air.
Dumbledore claps his hands together. "Rather anticlimactic, I'm afraid. But there we are."
Anticlimactic? That was fascinating! He just created an entire warding system. Those wand movements! What were those? The combination of—
"And I'm afraid I must be going," Dumbledore continues. "I'm sure our guests shall be settled by now, and what kind of hosts would we be if we did not welcome the new staff? I believe the staff room is calling us, Severus. And a slice of cake, if I am not mistake. How I love Fridays."
He hooks his arm through Snape's walking him towards the door.
"Friday night or any other, some of us still have duties to attend to," Snape scowls, trying to slip his arm out of the headmaster's apparently firm grip. "Dunderheaded students to supervise. Speaking of which, Potter—"
Dumbledore chuckles, leading him out of sight. "I'm sure Harry can find his way to the Common Room on his own. Or wherever else in the castle he wishes to be. Ah, to be young and free to walk in the moonlight…"
His voice fades away as they leave up the stairs.
Ron laughs, shaking his head. "Bloody bonkers," he whispers. "But that was a stroke of luck, wasn't it? Come on! Let's get the cloak on, quick!"
Hermione pulls it out. Holds it up. "Can we still all fit?"
Harry shrugs. "We can try. Don't want anyone else telling us to leave. Should be alright if we all sit down on the floor. Better sit at the edge though so no-one steps on us."
And so they settle against the side of the Hall, under the tables so it won't matter if a stray foot peeks out.
And they wait.
And wait.
Hermione pulls out a book.
"Hermione!"
She puts a hand over Harry's mouth. "What? You could get your essays done too. And don't say my name. We're supposed to be discreet. Muffiliato!"
She opens her charms book to the page on the confundus charm. Taps it. "This is what I think Bellatrix will use. A really powerful confundus. Powerful, but quite easy to stop, actually."
She shows them the counter-charm. Or in this case, a simple protego shield. "Even a protego might work with enough power behind it. But we should try a more precise variation. Protego confundus, for example. Or protego corruptis. She's relying on the fact that nobody knows it's her. Underestimating her opponent," she smiles.
Ron huffs from where he's squashed up next to her, head touching the underside of the table. "Yeah, I'm not sure you get to sound all smug when you're using what she taught us to beat her."
Harry yawns. Probably nods, although she can't see him. "We're the ones in a tight spot alright. She's probably up in the staff room eating cake."
True. Hermione's bum is getting a bit numb.
But it'll be worth it! She can't wait! And she's so curious to see what happens if Harry isn't in the tournament.
Plus, once that's out of the way, they can focus on getting Bellatrix discovered.
And then there's the whole wrong-time-slash-universe problem to work on. But she's pushed that very, very far to the back of her mind, for obvious reasons.
Ron nudges her. "Someone!"
What?
Oh!
She tucks her feet closer to her and raises her wand…
Durmstrang. One of the Durmstrang boys.
She holds in a disappointed sigh. Feels Ron slump against her.
Reaches for her book. Starts working out the wand movement for a modified protego so she can teach it to Ron and Harry.
And all the candles go out. As they do after every mealtime is over.
Well, perfect.
"Tempus," Harry mutters, voice gravelly from disuse. "Five to ten. One of us had better get back to the Common Room. Whoever it is can get some sleep and swap in later."
Hermione practices the wand movement again. And again. "One of you go. I need to stay. Need to…stop her," she yawns.
"Why don't we all just stay?" Ron says. "It's not like they check our beds. If they did, we would have been screwed in first year. Pretty much every year. And if we all stay—"
"Door!" Harry whispers.
They all freeze. Staff entrance this time. It could be her.
Shit. And Hermione's leg is completely numb and useless.
They all raise their wands. Ready to go.
Whoever it is doesn't cast a lumos. Just edges closer in the dark, the blue flames and the moonlight the only source of light, shadows flickering…
Hermione tried to kneel up. Just in case. Grits her teeth and holds her wand steady…
"Ginny?" Ron whispers.
…It is Ginny.
Harry pulls the cloak off of them. Casts a lumos. "What are you doing?"
Ginny spins to face them, right at the edge of the line. "Shit! Harry? Ron! Hermione, what— Why are you here?"
They all get to their feet, Hermione picking up the cloak, and make their way over to Ginny.
There's a small piece of parchment in Ginny's hand.
Ron groans. "You're trying to put your name in? Are you stupid? There's no way you'll get past the line."
Ginny folds her arms and glares up at him. "Fred and George are trying. I don't see why I can't. And anyway, why are you here? Don't go off on me just because—"
"And look what we have here. Just as I suspected."
And Snape appears from the shadows by the staff entrance. Smirks at them gleefully.
"…Tempus," he pronounces.
Looks at the hovering numbers. His smirk sharpens. "One minute past ten. Tell me, Potter. When is curfew at this school?"
"Ten o'clock, Sir," Harry grits out. "But—"
"But…this time does not apply to you, and your…friends. I see."
Hermione almost groans in frustration. "Professor, please listen. We have to watch the goblet. Someone's going to tamper with it. They want to—"
Snape folds his arms. "Tamper with an extremely powerful, ancient relic, imbued with protection by the Headmaster himself, and placed in the most secure location in the country? And you are arguing…that it needs to be guarded by three fourth years, and a third year?"
Hermione shakes her head. "We need your help too! It's not safe. The age line only stops teenagers, not adults. Anyone seventeen or older could put a name in. Any name. We—"
"Out!" Snape shouts. Casts a lumos and practically blinds them as he points toward the door. "You are all out after curfew, and so will all be in detention for the next week as it is. And think yourselves lucky that you won't be expelled for interfering with such a ceremonious, diplomatic event. Your foolish arrogance could have a lasting impact on the school's reputation. Do you have any idea what would have happened if one of the judges had found you in here? Hogwarts students? Cheating?"
And he opens his arms wide, somehow sweeping them all towards the door with his presence alone, none of them wanting to accidentally knock into him.
What should they do? Could they stop him? They have to stay!
They reach the Entrance Hall—
"Wait!" Ginny shouts. "Wait, I— I need the bathroom! Let me go to the bathroom. There's one back there."
Snape snorts. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for such outright lies."
Ginny wriggles past him anyway. "It's the truth! There's one here. I'll just—"
And she starts running down the corridor.
"Weasley!" Snape barks, whirling in her direction, face white with anger. "Ten more points from Gryffindor, and three weeks detention if you do not get back here—"
Ron runs after her. "I'll get her, don't worry, Professor," he grins. "Oy! Gin!"
Snape growls. "Weasley—"
Harry runs off down a different corridor. "I'll cut her off! I know a shortcut!"
Hermione holds a hand to her mouth to cover a smile.
Snape whips to face her. Glares at her. Looks at the door to the Great Hall suspiciously. "Whatever you're up to…"
Hermione schools her expression. Swallows. "Please, sir. We're just trying to keep Harry safe. Someone's out to get him. An imposter in the school."
Snape frowns.
Looks down the corridor Harry ran down.
Starts striding off after him, cape billowing. "Stay there, Granger. Or you will regret being born."
Hermione breathes out a sigh of relief.
Waits for him to get nearer the end of the corridor.
Puts the invisibility cloak on and sneaks back towards the Great Hall—
Ginny comes sprinting back down the corridor. "Hermione!" she hisses, looking down each corridor and then behind her. "Where are you?"
Hermione pulls the cloak off again. Waves and steps—
Feels a tingling—
"Ah!" Ginny shouts, smacking straight into…
Moody. Bellatrix. Suddenly appearing from around a corner.
Ginny clings onto Bellatrix as they wobble unsteadily.
Then shouts again and scrambles away when she realises who she just bumped into. "Shit! Professor! I'm sorry, I— Snape saw me out after curfew and—"
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley," Bellatrix barks. "What are you doing roaming the castle in the middle of the night? And— Granger!"
No no no…
Eyes in the back of her head. Hermione forgot.
Could Hermione petrify her? Maybe if—
And Snape rounds the corner, dragging Harry and Ron with him by the collars. He's panting. Red cheeked. And furious.
He throws the boys at Hermione. "All of you. Up to your dormitories. Now," he spits. "And be sure to explain to your housemates in the morning why Gryffindor is in minus points."
Bellatrix snorts. "What are you doing chasing students around, Snape? Never heard of a stunning spell? Or is that too tame for your tastes? Enjoying the chase?"
Snape freezes. Notices Bellatrix's presence and stiffens. Stares steadily at the wall. Doesn't reply.
Bellatrix barks out a laugh.
Walks over to the doors to the Great Hall. "Why don't you make yourself useful, lad, and walk them up to bed? Seems they need to be kept on a shorter leash. Especially the little one. She's got a slip of parchment in her hand. Guess she thinks herself a champion…"
Snape whirls to face Ginny. Grabs her sleeve.
Drags her off up the stairs. "Detention. One month. Every weekend. And the same for any of you who do not come. With me. Now!"
Hermione looks at him. Then at Harry. Then turns to—
Bellatrix is gone.
And the door to the Great Hall is closed shut.
No. No, she—
If Hermione opens the door, Bellatrix will see. And could run away. And could know that Hermione knows.
But Harry…
But Snape is watching! And if she gets detention, she won't have as much time to—
Stop Bellatrix! Just stop her!
Hermione runs towards the Great Hall. Pushes the doors open and rushes inside, squinting around in the darkness and raising her wand, protego on the tip of her—
Bellatrix is stood over the goblet.
Her fist opens.
A glint of white is visible in the moonlight. Parchment.
A small piece of parchment, drifting down to fall past the blue flames and into the cup.
Bellatrix catches her eye. Grins at her.
And begins coming towards her. Foot tapping.
Hermione can't believe it, frozen in shock. Can't believe this is happening again. That she was too late. That—
Bellatrix reaches her. Grabs her still raised wrist. "Detention. You'll be serving it with me, I think, seeing as you're so keen to come running after me. What was it Snape said? One month's detention? Guess I'd better follow the school rules."
And she walks Hermione out of the room, grip tight.
Hermione tries to tug herself free. Tries to dig her heels in. "What were you doing?" she grunts out. "Why were you near the goblet?"
Bellatrix carries on dragging her up the stairs, no sign of Snape or the others. "I'm the defense professor, girl!" she shouts. "We have strangers all over the castle! We have the boy who lived in our midst! We have Snape, and Karkaroff! Ex Death Eaters. We have Barty Crouch, whose own son was a convicted Death Eater. I'm here as a favour to Dumbledore. Extra protection. I was guarding the goblet, idiotic witch!"
Hermione finally manages to push her away as they reach the next floor. "No, you weren't!" she cries. "I saw—"
"Prove it!" Bellatrix snarls. Pushes up close to Hermione, backing her into a wall, eyes to crazy eyes. "Can you prove it? Hmm?"
Hermione backs away. Presses herself to the stone.
Bellatrix grins at her once more. "Think you've still got more to learn, Granger."
And she ducks behind a suit of armour, walking off up a spiral staircase.
Hermione's shoulders slump. A lump forms in her throat. Stupid. It went so wrong. How did it…
Harry…
Poor Harry…
Hermione looks up the main staircase.
She should get back to the others. To the Common Room, before Snape finds her again and gives her detention for the year.
She doesn't.
Trudges down the steps. Let's her feet carry her down, down to the Entrance Hall.
She pulls a piece of parchment out of her bag. Rips a corner off.
Takes out a quill.
Hermione Granger. Hogwarts.
Pushes the door to the Great Hall open.
Strides over to the goblet. Up to the age line.
Steps over it.
Reaches up…and puts her name in the Goblet of Fire.