Chapter 9: Await the ResultsChapter Text
Hermione heads to breakfast early the next morning, unable to sleep. Sips at her tea and watches over her book as different students nervously cross the age line to submit their names. Warrington from Slytherin. Roger Davies from Ravenclaw.
It's not long before Harry and Ron come and slump down next to her, bleary eyed and miserable looking. They'd waited up for her in the Common Room last night.
She'd told them about Bellatrix. And about putting her name in.
"Did you see the house points?" Harry asks quietly, reaching for a piece of toast.
Hermione nods. She'd seen it. Empty hourglass for Gryffindor.
Ron sighs heavily. "Bit of luck that everyone's focused on the goblet instead. But I am not looking forward to whatever nightmare Snape is going to have us acting out in detention. If Neville got disembowelment just for melting one stupid cauldron…we're doomed. Goodbye freedom. Goodbye evenings sat by the fire."
Hermione takes another sip of tea. "Well, he can't give Harry detention for a whole month. Not if he's a champion. And I've got detention with Moody, so—"
"So it's just me and Snape then. Perfect. Oh, and Ginny. Who I'm not going to talk to now either for ruining everything. She—"
"Ssh," Harry interrupts him. "It's Ginny. She's coming over."
Ron scoffs, folding his arms. "She has some nerve. We were this close to catching her. And Snape would have seen too. We'd be bloody heroes by now rather than—"
Ginny skips over the last few steps and plops down next to Harry, stealing some of his toast with a deft swipe and smiling brightly at them. "Morning! You guys alright? My legs are aching from sprinting around the castle so fast. Worth it though."
They all give her incredulous looks.
"Worth it?!" Ron squawks. "You've gone and got Harry pretty much killed is what you've done! Helped bring a Dark Lord—"
Ginny shoves the piece of toast in his mouth. "Sshh!" she hisses as some people turn to look at them curiously. "And you don't get it. We got Snape away from the goblet."
"Snape?" Harry says, eyebrows raising into his hair in disbelief. "It wasn't about Snape! It was—"
They're interrupted as Fred, George, and Lee Jordan come running into the room, whooping excitedly.
One twin sidles up to whisper to them. "We've done it!"
Hermione rolls her eyes.
"Done what?" Ginny asks.
He sticks out his tongue. "Ageing potion. One drop each for me, Georgie, and Lee. Whoever gets picked is gonna split the winnings three ways."
Hermione sighs. "I'm not sure that will work. You do know we watched Dumbledore create the age line? I'm not sure a potion will fool it."
George comes over. "Course it will! Besides, it's only a couple of months until our birthday anyway. We only needed a couple of months extra. Ready, Fred?"
"Ready, George. Sure you don't want a bit, Gin? Or are you still doing your own thing?" Fred asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
Ginny's face pales. She leans closer. "You knew? How did you know what I was doing?"
The twins wink at her, tapping the sides of their heads. "Can't outsmart us. We saw you sneaking off to the dungeons—"
"— and hanging out with those older years—"
"—Coming into the Common Room late—"
"— Hiding things up your—"
Ginny is getting steadily redder now. Shoves the nearest twin. "Don't you have a line to cross before your potion wears off?"
Fred salutes her and walks off with a chuckle. Stops at the edge of the line.
Steps over.
George lets out a whoop when nothing happens. Idiot.
Hermione doesn't even bother watching the rest. She hears the laughter when the beards appear.
Watches Ginny instead. Sneaking off to the dungeons? What's she been up to?
Ginny catches her eye.
Snatches another slice of toast and slips it into her pocket, getting to her feet. "You'll see," she whispers to Hermione with a wink, ducked so her hair is falling around them and no-one can see. "Now I'd better go. Someone just walked in."
Ginny spins and walks out of the Hall, and Hermione looks around…feels around…
Bellatrix. Standing near the staff entrance, magical eye scanning the room. Pausing on Hermione.
Hermione gets to her feet too, suddenly not hungry. "I was thinking of going to Hagrid's," she says to the boys. "It's what we did last time, and we haven't seen him outside of class yet. Nothing else to do…so…want to get away from here for a bit?"
Harry gives her a grateful look. "Yeah. That sounds great, actually. Need a distraction."
Ron nods absentmindedly, grabbing some pastries and pushing as many as he can into his bag, flaky crumbs getting everywhere.
He catches Hermione's eye. Shrugs. "One benefit of those French lot. They can keep their cheese and bouillabaisse, but croissants and pain au chocolate? Whoever's making these knows their stuff."
Hermione transfigures a napkin into a more sensible, separate bag and hands it to him. "Put them in this. Or I'm sure we can just go down to the kitchens and talk to the house-elves if you want some more."
Harry frowns. "House-elves? Like Dobby? They work in the kitchens?"
Hermione smacks herself in the forehead. SPEW! This is the year they all found out about house-elves because of Winky and Crouch! But Winky wasn't—so they have no idea who makes the food or cleans up after them or—
She marches them out of the hall. "Yes, Harry. House-elves. Like Dobby. And it's a very complicated issue rife with ethical dilemmas and almost certainly tied into race issues. Luckily I know a fair amount about the rights of magical creatures. You see…"
And she begins a much more nuanced explanation of house-elves as they make their way out of the entrance door and down through the grounds towards Hagrid's hut. They pass the Beauxbatons carriages and Fleur on the way, who glares at them apparently for just passing through.
Hermione casts the shield charm she'd come up with and keeps walking. She can't have the boys getting distracted. She's only reached the fourth amendment on her most recently revised bill of house-elf rights. Or will write, ten years from now. Maybe she can lay down some foundations in this world too and get ahead of the game. Earn the other Hermione more time to act.
…If there is another Hermione.
She's not thinking about that yet.
If they'd thought waiting for the feast last night to end was agony, then the one tonight is pure torture. The table piled high with food.
The goblet ready and waiting, now sat in front of Dumbledore's chair.
Even Ron has barely touched his dinner, which says it all, really.
But finally, finally, the long wait is over. The goblets and plates clean themselves, the chatter in the hall mounts.
And then dies away instantly as Dumbledore gets to his feet, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff watching expectantly and tensely from either side of him, and even Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Senior making an appearance, sat at the very ends of the staff table.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announces. "I would like to ask that when the champions' names are called, they each come forward, walk along past the staff table, and exit through to the back chamber where they will receive their first instructions."
He shakes his sleeves back and raises his wand…
And extinguishes all of the candles in the room apart from those within the carved pumpkins sat along the tables, plunging them into shadowy semi-darkness.
Hermione reaches for Harry's hand. Squeezes it tightly.
Harry gives her a nervous smile.
"Any second now…" Lee Jordan whispers from a few seats away.
And he's right. Hermione turns back towards the front, the goblet glows red, and a piece of parchment is spat out, shooting into the air and drifting downwards.
Dumbledore catches it. "The champion for Durmstrang…will be Viktor Krum!"
And there's a roar of applause as everyone gets to their feet, Ron pulling Harry up with him and flinging an arm over his shoulder to hold him steady. He's shaking. "No surprises there then!" Ron yells. "At least that's something!"
"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff booms, loud even above the crowd.
But then the noise dies down once more, all eyes on the goblet.
It glows red.
Dumbledore clears his throat. "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
And Fleur of course gets to her feet with the grace of a ballerina, long blonde hair swishing behind her as she makes her way between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables and disappears into the back chamber to yet another round of thunderous applause.
Hermione can't even muster the energy to stand up this time. She's light-headed. She thinks she might be sick. Why did she put her name in? Dragons? And a maze of…deadly creatures, and deadly hedges, and a deadly psychopath waiting at the end. A graveyard of psychopaths. Why—
"The Hogwarts' champion…" Dumbledore calls into the now silent hall.
Please be Cedric, a very small part of Hermione whispers from the back of her mind.
"…is…oh dear."
Dumbledore pauses. Frowns. Muttering breaks out as his eyes scan up the Gryffindor table.
He lowers his glasses down his nose.
Disappointed and worried eyes fixed on Hermione.
"Hermione Granger," he announces solemnly.
The nail in the coffin.
And now everyone turns to look at Hermione.
Shit.
It worked.
…now what?
"What is the problem, Mister Dumbledore?" Madame Maxime asks confusedly. "You do not want this witch as your champion?"
Dumbledore just continues to frown.
"Miss Granger is…underage, Madame Maxime," McGonagall explains, and the disappointment on her face is infinitely worse than Dumbledore's. "She is barely fifteen years old."
Some of the beauxbatons students gasp in realisation, and both Karkaroff and Madame Maxime rise to their feet. "This an outrage! So your age line did not work!" Madame Maxime shouts.
And then Karkaroff barks out a laugh. "Well, she has been chosen! Her magic is tied. It looks like Hogwarts is already at a disadvantage, with only a young girl to fight for them! Oh Albus, my friend. I am sorry for your misfortune," he chuckles.
Dumbledore smiles uncertainly. Beckons to Hermione. "Miss Granger! Up here, if you please!"
Harry nudges her. "I'll see you soon," he whispers. "It's fine. They won't be angry with you for long once my name appears. Go on."
Hermione stands up and climbs off of the bench. Grits her teeth and nods to herself as she makes her way down through the rows.
It's fine. It's fine.
This is taking forever.
Breathe. Just breathe.
She stops in front of Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I—"
"Through the door, Hermione," he says, unsmiling. Eyes hard. "We will—"
And he pauses as shouts ring out throughout the room.
The goblet glows red once more. And another piece of parchment flies out. Drifting into the air and falling into Dumbledore's reaching hand.
Harry. Here they go again.
Hermione's eyes drift along the staff table, looking for….
"Bellatrix Black," Dumbledore whispers.
Hermione blinks.
…what?
Her head jolts back around to stare at Dumbledore, not believing her ears.
Dumbledore pushes his glasses more firmly onto the bridge of his nose. Looks to McGonagall. Then Snape. Then Moody.
Draws his wand and lights all of the candles in the Hall, bringing the whole room into startling clarity.
He holds up the piece of parchment. "Bellatrix Black!" he shouts.
Hermione draws her own wand, wide eyes searching out Harry and Ron.
What the hell is happening?
Harry jumps to his feet. "It's him! It's Professor Moody! He's Bellatrix! She must have put her own name in!" he shouts, pointing at Moody.
Bellatrix gets to her feet too with a growl. "Be careful where you're pointing fingers, lad! Especially at those of us who have been fighting the dark forces for longer than you've been alive!"
Then she limps closer to Dumbledore. "What do you say, Albus? Should we put the castle into lockdown? Interrogate every single one of them until the slimy traitor comes forward? You know I've got some veritaserum ready, and I'm betting either Snape or Karkaroff will be quick to talk."
And Bellatrix turns on Snape, reaching into her robes.
Harry comes running down the aisle, wand drawn. "Get away from him! We know it's you! Give up! We know you've been drinking polyjuice from your flask!"
"Oh you mean this flask?" Bellatrix roars, face twisted with fury. Takes the flask from inside her robes and holds it up. "This flask, that I've drank from since nineteen seventy-eight, when one young wizard by the name of Severus Snape decided to slip a sleeping potion into my drink? Hmm?!"
She upends the flask.
Water pours out onto the floor.
"Constant vigilance," she hisses.
Then grabs a very pale Snape by the scruff of the neck, dragging him to his feet.
By now the noise in the Hall has risen from confused babbling to shouted speculations and accusations from all around.
Dumbledore casts a sonorus and directs it at his throat. "Silence!"
All falls still.
Dumbledore nods measuredly. "I believe there are some elements that need to be explained before we move forward," he says calmly. "Now, as some of you may be aware, there is no student here at Hogwarts by the name of Bellatrix Black. She is a witch that attended this school some…twenty years ago, if I do recall correctly. Her name appearing from the goblet, is something that can only be assumed to be an elaborate prank. And a rather distasteful one at that. Miss Black cannot compete in this tournament…because she died more than a decade ago, whilst serving out her sentence in Azkaban prison as a supporter of the wizard known as Lord Voldemort."
"And we have another two supporters sat right here," Bellatrix barks over the growing commotion, glaring at Snape and Karkaroff.
"Alastor!" Dumbledore snaps harshly, the name echoing in the stillness.
A crackling fills the air. A buzzing. Dumbledore.
"I understand that tensions are running high," Dumbledore says firmly and clearly. "But I would ask that you not make accusations of my staff or my guests within this school. Both Severus and Igor have long been pardoned for any actions taken in their pasts, and are no more followers of Voldemort than I am. And will be treated with respect."
Bellatrix let's go of Snape. Huffs and looks at the floor sulkily. "Innocent until proven guilty. You're still standing by that motto?"
Dumbledore smiles. "As it should be for us all, in a civilised society."
Bellatrix shrugs. Nods.
Goes and sits back down. "Then I guess we'll have to wait for the guilty bastard to come forward. Someone's out there stirring the pot. If you change your mind about your methods, you know where I am and what sort of spells I have up my sleeves. Until then, you'd better get back there with the other champions, Granger.
Hermione startles on hearing her name, still just…gobsmacked and utterly bewildered by everything that is happening. She— but—
"But it's her!" Ron yells, pointing at Bellatrix.
Bellatrix grins. "Innocent until proven guilty, Weasley. But if you want to imagine I've got a dead witch under my robes, go ahead."
She's not dead, Hermione wants to blurt out. You're not dead. I saw you. I saw you at the World Cup. And I saw you put a name in the goblet.
But Bellatrix's words from the night before echo around her head, and she keeps her mouth shut, shaking her head at Harry and Ron resignedly.
Can you prove it?
Hermione still can't quite believe what's happening as she leaves the Great Hall, making her way past the teachers' table and through the door into the back room, a smaller chamber filled with portraits and a large glowing hearth.
Bellatrix's name was in the goblet…
How? Why? Why on Earth was it Bellatrix's name and not Harry's?
The other two champions are silhouetted in the firelight, Viktor leaning against a column and deep in thought, Fleur turning to face her.
But before either can say anything, their eyes move over her shoulder.
"Miss Granger. A word, if you please," comes Dumbledore's voice.
Hermione's shoulders fall.
And tense. He left Bellatrix alone in the Great Hall?
Fleur and Viktor give her matching looks of suspicion as Dumbledore leads her into a dark, far corner of the chamber.
Hermione fiddles with her wand and looks at the floor. She knows what he's thinking. Oh this is horrible.
Dumbledore squeezes her shoulder. "Look at me, Hermione."
She slowly raises her gaze. Yep. There are those disappointed eyes again.
"Hermione, did you put your name in the goblet of fire?" Dumbledore asks gently.
Hermione bites her lip. Looks over at Viktor and Fleur instead, unable to take it. "I…I'm sorry, Headmaster," she whispers. "I…I asked an older student to put my name in. I wanted to compete. I thought I was— that I was clever enough. And when you made the age line, you didn't say that you had to put your own name in. Anyone could put a name in. So I…took my opportunity. I wanted to try. To prove myself."
That's the lie she's come up with. The one they'll believe. The one that will take the suspicion off her age.
Even if it will make her seem like a stupid, arrogant, naive little child.
It's for the best.
Dumbledore sighs. "As I feared. And now tell me this, Hermione, and this is important. You must tell me the truth now."
Now Hermione frowns. Turns to look at him.
He looks around. Smiles at Bagman and Crouch, who have now come through, and walks her further away, stopping them to look at a portrait of a wizard with a ridiculously large, walrus-like moustache.
Dumbledore clears his throat. "A young lady with a keen mind, and a point to prove. But what I would like to know…is if there was another point that you…and perhaps Harry and young Ronald Weasley…were proving."
Umm…what?
She glances sideways at him. He smiles sadly. "You are quite correct in your assessment that my age line was flawed. That anyone could put another's name in…even without their consent. Now, a few days ago, I do recall Harry coming to me with the belief that one Bellatrix Black was hidden within the castle. So I am asking you, Hermione. Did you also put Bellatrix's name in the goblet, in order to convince me of your theories?"
…what?
He thinks…they not only imagined Bellatrix's name on the Marauders' Map, but also confunded the goblet and added Bellatrix's name just to prove a point?!
"No!" Hermione exclaims, probably a bit too loudly, her voice echoing around the room. "No, we have no idea how her name got in there! And that's what's even more suspicious! We saw her on the map, and now she's in the goblet too? Professor, you can't believe that's a coincidence!"
He smiles at her knowingly. "Hardly a coincidence at all. But if you are certain…?"
Hermione folds her arms. "Yes. Professor—"
"Kids will be kids, am I right, Headmaster?" Ludo Bagman says with a boyish grin, coming up behind Dumbledore. "Bellatrix Black. Now that would have been an interesting tournament."
"Interesting?" McGonagall snaps as she comes into the room too, worry in her features and pace hurried. "This is no time for joking, Mr Bagman."
And then more quietly to Dumbledore. "Are you sure it is wise to continue?" Her eyes dart to Hermione. "You cannot be expecting us to stand by and let this happen. As qualified as that goblet, and apparently Miss Granger, have deemed her to be, she is still underage."
Oh Hermione wishes she could reassure her. Hermione is probably the most qualified contestant. Knows what's to come. Has years of practice. Much more than the other champions.
Well, except for maybe Bellatrix.
And speaking of which, here she comes now, close on the heels of Snape and Karkaroff, watching them suspiciously. Karkaroff does seem jumpy, and Snape…
Has regained some composure. And seems to have found a new outlet to focus on. Swoops in on Hermione.
"Curious about the age line? Someone tamperingwith the goblet? I believe we need look no further to find the instigator of this so-called prank, Headmaster."
Everyone else gathers around too, all stopping their private conversations to openly stare at Hermione.
Mr Crouch pushes forward, hands behind his back and glaring down at Hermione. "Yes. Very curious that of all people, Miss Granger here has been chosen. You have a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, girl. Getting mixed up in matters that don't concern you…"
Hmm. Still angry about Narcissa, then.
Hermione raises her chin. Glances at Bellatrix. Continues anyway. "Being in the wrong place at the wrong time isn't a crime, as I told you before. No matter who you are."
Crouch's eyes narrow further. "Indeed? Is that what this school has been teaching you? You think you can talk down to your elders? Stick your nose in and—"
"Get on with it, Crouch," Bellatrix barks. "We can discuss all that later. Now is the girl competing, or do we need another champion for Hogwarts? Or better yet, maybe we can cancel this ruddy tournament altogether. It should never have been held to begin with. Told you as much, Albus. Asking for trouble."
Crouch's jaw clenches. He almost looks like he might call Bellatrix out on her tone, daring to speak to a Ministry official so brashly, but Bellatrix continues staring at him and he balks, stepping back and clearing his throat. "As unusual as events this evening have been, I see no option but for the tournament to continue as planned. Miss Granger is underage, but her name has been entered. This constitutes a magically binding contract. She must compete in each task, as poor as her performance is likely to be. Perhaps she will serve as a warning to those foolish enough to enter unprepared."
"Has to compete? Albus, this cannot be true," McGonagall whispers.
Dumbledore nods gravely. "I'm afraid Bartemius is correct. "However, I'm sure by now Hermione has realised her lapse in judgement, and will do her utmost to learn all she can for each of the tasks ahead."
Hermione ducks her head and quickly nods. She hates this. Hates everyone looking at her like she's stupid. Arrogant. Looking for glory.
A loud clap startles her into lifting her head. Ludo Bagman. "Right then. Now, uh, now that's settled, gather around, champions. Don't be shy. Not that any of you are," he laughs.
Viktor and Krum take a step further forward, clearly unamused, but eager to…
Moody has stepped closer too. Shifted closer, just slightly.
Seriously, Bellatrix?
Hermione resists the urge to give her a look, knowing that would be a bad idea with this many people around.
No-one else seems to have noticed.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," Bagman tells them excitedly. "So we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard or witch. Very important."
Hermione almost laughs. See. She's definitely qualified. Facing the unknown? She seems to be doing that a lot more often than she would have suspected, given she's living in the past.
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges," Crouch continues in a more serious monotone, as if reciting the guidelines from memory. "The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests. Any questions?"
There aren't any questions. Not aloud.
But Hermione can definitely read about a dozen questions on everyone's faces.
She can't help herself. Raises her hand.
Bagman grins. "Yes! Miss Granger, Hogwarts. Any questions?"
Hermione looks around at everyone, gaze pausing on Bellatrix. "So all champions have to compete in every single task, otherwise they…lose their magic?"
Bagman grimaces, laughing awkwardly. "Uh…yes. Magically binding, as Barty said. So just…do your best, alright?"
Karkaroff chuckles too. "Yes. I would suggest you show up and try not to die. You do not have to have the best points. Save those for the real competitors."
Hermione nods. Keeps her eyes on Bellatrix.
Okay. So Bellatrix has to show up to each of the tasks, or lose her magic.
Well that should hold her up a bit in her plans to kidnap Harry.
After that, they're quickly sent off to bed so that the staff can get back to the possible 'Bellatrix issue'.
And the whole time with Bellatrix stood right there in Moody's body.
Fleur and Viktor barely glance her way before leaving.
It's strange without Cedric there. Or Harry. She'd been certain Harry would be here with her.
She's changed things. Really changed things now. Cedric won't be champion. Won't compete. Won't die.
So this must be a good outcome? Right.
Hermione isn't so sure as she heads back to the Common Room, alone.
But when she gets there, gods, it's bizarre! People are smiling at her. Cheering! Think she outsmarted the goblet, Fred and George clapping her on the back and asking how she did it without getting a beard. Offering her food, and sweets, and drinks, and— just—
"I'm tired!" she bellows when ten minutes has passed without a break from their clamouring, looking around for Harry and Ron. "I'm going to bed! I'm—"
No-one listens, busy celebrating.
She pushes through the crowd and heads towards the stairs to the boys dorms instead. Where are they? Did they even come back?
She knocks on the door to the fourth-year room and then walks right in. Oh.
They're sat on Harry's bed with Ginny.
They turn to look at her. Harry grins. "It was Ginny! You've gotta hear this, Hermione! It's amazing!"
Hermione frowns. What? It— what does that mean? What did—
Ginny shuffles over and pats the bed. "Quick. Before the other boys come up here."
Hermione hurries over and sits down. "What did Harry mean? What did you do?"
Ginny leans in, eyes glinting mischievously. "So now you don't think I'm too young? Don't think I can't understand this stuff? Can't be discrete?"
"Just hurry up and tell her!" Ron says.
Ginny bounces on the bed and smiles. "Fine. You see, I wasn't really angry with you. Well, I was at first. But that's what gave me the idea. You said that Bellatrix was powerful. And was watching. So…I stayed away from you all. Pretended I hated you. That way, she wasn't paying attention to me," she explains.
Tucks her hair behind her ears. "The next thing, was that if she's so clever, then she was bound to get past the enchantments and put the parchment in the cup. There was no stopping that. She was going to put a name in the goblet. But…"
She shows Hermione her empty palm. Then flicks her wrist. A piece of parchment appears.
It reads: Harry Potter – Hogwartes
Hogwarts is spelt wrong. And she recognises that handwriting.
That's Bellatrix's handwriting.
Ginny flicks her wrist again. The parchment disappears. "Magic," Ginny whispers. "But not real magic. Muggle magic. It's called slight of hand. I caught some older Slytherins doing it and asked them to teach me. Told them if they didn't, I'd tell the other Slytherins that they were using muggle magic."
Slight of hand? So…
Hermione gasps. "You bumped into her! Before she went into the Great Hall and confunded the goblet! You— you bumped into her on purpose? To switch the parchment? How did you know she'd be there?"
Ginny squints at her. "I've been watching her. And if I didn't know she was after Harry…I'd say she's watching you. Seems to follow you everywhere. And it happened again. I shouted your name, and then she showed up. I figured I just needed to make a lot of noise and chaos so we'd be a distraction for her to sneak in, but you being there really helped."
Hermione scoffs awkwardly. "Me? She's not following me. Why would she be following me?"
Harry frowns. "She does talk to you a lot. Maybe…maybe she knows you know. Maybe she saw you at the World Cup, and has known the whole time that you're onto her. Do you think she caught you looking at her?"
Oh.
Oh dear.
She…had been quite slow to turn around when Bellatrix stole Harry's wand. And her and Ron weren't very subtle when they followed Narcissa.
Maybe Bellatrix has known all along. She has made a few hints…
Hermione shakes herself from her thoughts. Smiles at Ginny as she remembers something. "So you tricked her into putting her own name in the goblet?"
Ginny stretches. Preens. "Yep. Let's see her get out of that. Magical contract."
Hermione swallows.
No magic.
…she can't even imagine it. Not anymore. It's such a big part of her life now. Part of her. Losing that…
She almost feels sorry for Bellatrix. Responsible, for putting her in this situation where she might lose her magic. No-one deserves that. Taking something…so innate.
She rubs her face tiredly. Looks around blearily at the others.
Their smiling faces. Harry is obviously relieved not to be in the tournament. Ginny proud of herself for her plan. Ron just happy to be a part of it. To be in on all the plans.
They really…haven't realised what this means, have they? All of the potential consequences are already laying themselves out in Hermione's mind. All of the unknowns coming their way.
Because yes, they've stopped Bellatrix's plan. Voldemort's plan.
But that just means they have no idea what the next move will be. How they'll get Harry's blood for the resurrection. If they'll still use the cup. If they'll now just decide to kill Harry. If they'll decide to use Bellatrix at all, or cast her aside now that she's tangled herself up in the tournament.
What will Bellatrix do now? Compete or lose magic. But can she compete without being sent to Azkaban? What's worse? No magic, or no freedom?
Or the Kiss. She could get the Kiss.
Yes. Hermione definitely wouldn't want to be Bellatrix right now.
Chapter 10: Whisper your WordsChapter Text
A day goes by, and all eyes are once again on Hermione. She doesn't know how Harry stands it, the constant scrutiny.
It can get quite bad for her in the future, once she's known by all as the Golden Girl, one of the Golden Trio. But she's not used to it at school. She even has to leave the Common Room to get some peace and hide out in the library. She can understand now why Viktor was always there escaping his fans.
But also for the tournament. Where else would you go to prepare for a test?
A…very tricky test, she has to admit. Especially as, if this goes as she remembers, Fleur and Viktor will be using the most logical approaches to bypass the spell resistant dragon scales - a powerful sleeping spell from Fleur, targeting the mind, and a conjunctivitis curse from Viktor, blinding the dragon, eyes being their weak point.
Not that she actually wants to hurt the dragon if she can help it. Nesting mothers. It's barbaric. If she was the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in this time—
She closes yet another book and adds it to the growing pile of rejects in the centre of the table with a drawn-out sigh.
"No good?" Ron whispers to her from across the table.
She shakes her head. "Too violent. Fighting tactics, not negotiation. How about you?"
He shows her the cover of his book. Men Who Love Dragons Too Much. "You do not want to know. Trust me."
"Do you think we should…talk to Malfoy?" Harry asks cautiously.
Hmm?
Wait, what?
"Talk to Malfoy?" Ron frowns.
Harry shrugs. "About Bellatrix. She's his aunt. He might know something."
That could work, she supposes. Although she's really not sure he'll be that much help…
"But why would Malfoy talk to us?" Ron asks. "Unless…"
He looks across the room. Watches Viktor as he hands a book back to Madam Pince and leaves. "Oh! I know! Someone give me a piece of parchment and a quill."
Harry passes over his quill, and Hermione absentmindedly accios some parchment from her bag, her mind already back on other things.
Dragons. Is she being ridiculous? Should she just find a way to fight one? The books are all here.
But that's cruel. So cruel.
Should she look into charms? A modified containment charm, perhaps? She'd have to transfigure a very large cage. Maybe from a rock…
She could just use Cedric's idea, now that he won't be there. Transfigure a rock into a dog as a distraction, like he did.
Or a horse. A horse might be more sensible. Bigger than a human, but clearly prey rather than a predator.
Cedric did get burned though…
"There!" Ron says proudly as he finishes writing something down. "Now it's not us that wants to meet up with Malfoy. It's Viktor Krum. No way he won't show up. Hey! Dennis!" he hisses.
He reaches out and drags Dennis Creevey towards him as he passes. Hands him the scroll. "Give this to Malfoy for me, would you? Viktor Krum wants him to have it, but he had to leave for training."
Dennis' eyes widen. "You know Viktor Krum?! He's a champion!"
And then he noticed Hermione. His eyes gleam. "And so are you! Can I get your signature, Hermione? I'm collecting famous people, and I already have Harry, but now you're famous too!"
Madam Pince clears her throat pointedly and shushes them as Dennis' voice carries squeakily through the room.
Hermione quickly writes her name down and hands it to him. "Here," she whispers.
He nods at the piece of paper in awe and backs away, tripping over his feet slightly on the way out.
Ron snorts. "Looks like you've got your first super fan, Hermione."
Ginny shoves him. "Leave Dennis alone. It's sweet."
"Yeah, like when you wrote that poem for Harry. What was it again? Eyes—"
And a bat-bogey hex hits Ron in the face, sending him sprawling and shouting on the floor. Ginny.
"Out!" Madam Pince snaps. "All of you! This isn't a Common Room. If you want to mess around, you can go out on the grounds."
Hermione sighs, packing up her things as Ron flails around, fumbling to aim his wand at his face and remember the anti-hex.
He does, to her surprise. Huh. Looks like Bellatrix's intense teaching so far this year has already sharpened his practical skills.
Ginny smiles but quickly bites her lip, tidying her books. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get you kicked out," she whispers.
They head for the door under Madam Pince's steely glare.
"Oh!" Ginny shouts as soon as they get past the door. "I'm meant to be meeting Luna for a walk around the grounds. Want to come? It's a bit rainy but not too bad?"
Hermione shakes her head. "I need to do some more research. I have some Charms and Transfiguration books in my dorm, so I guess I'll head back."
Harry nods glumly. "I've still got that Herbology paper to write for tomorrow. And I need to work on my switching spell for McGonagall."
Harry! How is he this behind already with— he should have said! Why was he looking up dragons if—
Right. Studying in the Common Room, then. She'll just have to use her prefect voice if people start to hassle her.
It is possible to transfigure a rock into a cage, but it would have to be a very large rock. And she might have to hover it over the dragon to capture it, which isn't ideal.
And containment charms work better on airtight materials like glass or dense wood.
So she's hit a bit of a snag.
She might have to go back to the library alone and beg forgiveness from Madam Pince. All she has left to read now is yesterday's edition of the Daily Prophet, which she's half-heartedly scanning through for any new research. Or timeline inconsistencies. She's still wary about that. News on the Malfoys or any more Death Eater attacks…
A scroll is dropped onto her newspaper.
"Hey. I have a note for you from her," Ginny's voice comes from behind her chair. "Don't think it's cursed or anything, but you might want to check."
What?!
Hermione pushes Harry's half-written paper out of the way on the coffee table and puts the newspaper and scroll on there instead, avoiding touching it. Turns to stare at Ginny.
Ginny huffs, taking off her wet cloak. "She gave it to me out in the corridor and then stomped off. Go on! Open it!"
Hermione turns back around. Glances at Ron and Harry and then raises her wand. Casts some detection charms. A revelio.
Nothing.
Oh fine!
She undoes the seal and unfurls it. Scans…Oh for goodness—
"Detention! She's still given me detention with her tonight and…every Sunday night until the first task! That's four Sundays!"
Ginny leans over her shoulder and hums. "You're lucky. I'm seeing Snape every weekend till Christmas. That's where I'm going now, once I've changed my clothes and grabbed something to eat. You're welcome, by the way."
Hermione sighs. She's right. "Thank you. For stopping her. And for getting Harry out of the tournament."
Ginny looks a bit bashful at that. Shrugs awkwardly. "Well. Guess you've got it worse than me. I mean, Snape's Snape. But at least he's an ex-Death Eater and not a spy for You Know Who."
Hermione clears her thought as a strange sound escapes her. Well he's not a spy. Not quite yet, but…
Alone with Bellatrix. All evening. Doing whatever task she's come up with.
Harry clears his throat too. "Maybe you shouldn't go. Or maybe we should come with you. She must be…furious with us. We've ruined her plans. You're in the tournament instead of me. So if there's anyone she can blame…"
Hermione swallows. He's right. Bellatrix had a mission from Voldemort, and thanks to Ginny…she's failed. But she doesn't know it was Ginny. All signs do kind of point to it being Hermione's fault.
Which is just perfect, given Bellatrix's wonderful anger management skills and self-restraint.
Hermione takes a breath. Right. Don't panic. Think logically.
And don't put this on them. She doesn't want the others to worry. "No," she reassures Harry. "She's already under enough pressure. Has had enough suspicion pointed her way. She can't do anything to me, or any of us, especially before the tournament. That's her main problem now. Thanks to Ginny, her priority isn't you anymore. It's keeping her magic somehow. It must be. She'd never lose her magic, not even for Him."
She thinks. She's not sure. Bellatrix's devotion seemed to run deep. She'd probably die for Voldemort.
But give up her magic? Everything she knows? Her power, her strength, her usefulness to Him and the cause?
Hermione shakes her head, standing up. "I'm going back to the library. I've got to go…"
And she doesn't even look back before walking away, straight out of the portrait hole and down the stairs. She's not sure what's wrong, she just…
Everything is so…confusing, and overwhelming, and complicated. And she just knows that the library always makes that better. It's what she always does. And she knows it's not exactly rational, that if anything she should be working on practical skills and physical fitness, but— ah!
She reaches for her wand as she's pulled into a classroom. Wh—
"Expelliarmus!" she shouts as soon as her wand settles in her palm, panicked instincts setting in. Pushes…blonde…
Blonde?
A hand covers her mouth. "Chut! Arrête! I just want to talk to you."
Hermione lets out a breath and slumps back against the windowsill, pulling the hand away. "Fleur! What are you— Why didn't you just come talk to me at breakfast or lunch like a normal person instead of…waiting to ambush me?"
Fleur steps back, eyeing the door, eyebrows raising. "We cannot be seen talking! We are competitors. Rivals. Even if you are a little girl, I still cannot let the others see this!"
Hermione smiles. Little girl. How ironic.
And Fleur seems so serious. It just feels…ridiculous. She thinks she has problems? Is keeping secrets? It's not the worst thing in the world if two of the champions talk to each other. "And what is this, exactly?" Hermione asks lightly. "Why are we in here and…ugh, I have ink on me! You pushed me into an ink pot."
Who leaves their ink lying around on windowsills? Ugh it's all over the back of her top.
Fleur rolls her eyes and casts a non-verbal cleaning spell at Hermione. It even smells nice. Fleur's cleaning spells always do.
Fleur Hermione thinks. Fleur's magic.
Fleur comes to lean against the wall next to her. Folds her arms, wand still drawn and pointed casually towards the door. "How did you do it?" she asks quietly. "How did you stop the veela?"
Oh…
Hermione once again sighs in relief. "I thought you were going to ask me about the goblet."
Fleur doesn't reply. Waits.
Hermione draws her wand. Clears her throat. "I noticed that you…had an effect on the boys. So I thought of a spell that would shield their minds. It doesn't last very long, it's basically just a modified protego, but—"
"Show me. Please."
There's…a vulnerability here. A very different side to Fleur than she's seen before. Younger.
Hermione quickly nods, raising her wand. "It starts like a protego, and ends like the legilimens spell. Do you know it? And the incantation is protego mentes. So it's like this."
She flicks her wand up, and then points it back toward herself to shield her own mind. "Protego mentes!"
Looks at Fleur. Cancels the shield "See? That was to protect my own mind, though. That's why I aimed at myself. You—"
Fleur drags Hermione to stand in front of her. Readies her wand. "Protego mentes!"
Fleur, Hermione thinks. It feels like…
A weird combination of Fleur, and not Fleur.
Fleur being stopped, but Fleur doing the protecting.
And then Fleur laughs. A bright, excited laugh. "I feel it! Feeled— felt— ça marche!"
Hermione smiles back. Now it feels like the Fleur she knows. Happy, and confident without being so full of herself.
Hermione shrugs. "I saw that you were uncomfortable. It must be awful, affecting everyone around you all the time. You know, maybe there's a way to make it last longer. Like lumos, that lasts…well infinitely until you cancel it, so maybe—"
Fleur throws herself at Hermione, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling her close. "Now I know why you are a champion! I see! The goblet is not wrong! You are intelligent!"
And she pulls back to kiss Hermione's cheeks. O— okay. Why is— normally only Harry— she—
Hermione feels her face heat up and pushes Fleur away. "Really, it's nothing. I just— like trying new things. I mean— and I'm not young. I'm old for my age. I mean I feel older."
Fleur studies her. Seems to look at her properly for the first time. "Yes, you do look older. I thought you were a final year, like me."
Hermione just stares back uncomfortably, not knowing what else to say.
The silence drags.
She clears her throat. "Okay, well…I'm off to the library. Got to get ready to fight— fight my way through whatever the first task is. Good luck, by the way."
Fleur nods happily and walks past her towards the door. "Yes, I should practice too. And I am going to practice your veela shield. I will hit all the boys with it! Protect all the boys. That is why we are champions, non?"
Hermione chuckles, following her out the door—
Fleur pushes her back in. "Not together. It is suspect. Me first."
And she whips her head around, hitting Hermione in the face with her hair before she's out the door and away.
Hermione waits.
But only for about thirty seconds, because not being allowed to be friends with Fleur is ridiculous.
She steps out into the corridor—
"Having fun with Delacour, Granger?"
Almost bumps into Bellatrix.
Okay, she's starting to think Ginny is right and Bellatrix is stalking her for some reason. She's always there!
"Yes, thank you," she replies, not bothering explaining herself. "Now I'm sorry, Professor. But I need to get to the library. I have to prepare for the first task, and as you know, this evening I'm going to be busy."
Bellatrix raises an eyebrow. "I'm not stopping you. Off you go. I'll see you at seven sharp. Wear something appropriate."
And Bellatrix walks off.
Wear…what?
Appropriate?
Appropriate for what?!
Hermione stands in front of the long bathroom mirror and frowns.
There's a knock on the door. "One minute!" she shouts.
"It's me. I heard Lavender and Parvati talking about you at dinner. They said you were acting weird."
Hermione turns around and sighs at Ginny. "I don't know what to wear."
Ginny slowly walks into the room, eyebrows raising. "To…detention?"
Hermione groans, pulling off her top. "She said to wear something appropriate! But she didn't tell me what we'll be doing! I'm just going to wear my school robes. Appropriate. Appropriate schoolgirl…plus it makes me look younger."
She feels hands pull her top back on. "School robes? On a Sunday? Just wear this, Hermione! It looks fine! I don't see why you're trying to impress Bellatrix with—"
Hermione twists back into her top and checks her hair in the mirror. "I'm not— impress? I just don't know if I'll be…in the Forbidden Forest or something! But you're right. This is fine. I have my cloak just in case. And my bag. And my wand so— yes. I'll be fine. Don't know why I'm panicking. Sorry."
She feels for her wand in her pocket. That's why she's nervous. Alone with a probably very angry and vengeful Bellatrix. With no witnesses.
Ginny marches her out of the bathroom. "You look great. You're an adult witch posing as a teenager. You're always gonna look way better than us, it's totally unfair. And it seems like you've figured out how to make your hair look nicer since last year. So just get out of here before you're late. It's almost seven. It's detention, not a date."
Nearly seven?!
Hermione runs down the stairs straight for the portrait hole. "Thanks! I'll see you later, maybe tomorrow depending how long she keeps me."
Ginny snorts. "Tell her you have to be back by curfew!" she calls after her.
Hermione nods to herself, skidding around a corner and then down the hidden spiral staircase that leads down to the second floor.
Jumps the disappearing step.
And burst out into a crowd of Hufflepuffs. What? "Excuse me! Running late here! Could you move—"
They don't move. Just glare at her. And then laugh as she slips on a gobstone. Why are they playing gobstones in the corridor? She wishes she was still a prefect so—
"Alright, you lot! Back to the Common Room if you want to play that, it's obviously a hazard," Cedric calls. Helps Hermione steady herself and grins at her. "Sorry about them. You okay?"
Hermione adjusts her bag. Smiles back gratefully. "I'm fine. Thanks. Just in a bit of a rush. Late for detention."
Cedric's eyebrows raise in surprise, but he's still smiling. "Detention? You? And after tricking the goblet too? I think I've got you all wrong."
Hermione rolls her eyes. "I didn't mean to…well I did but…I'm sorry it didn't pick you. I know you wanted to be champion."
He shrugs easily, only a brief flash of sadness on his face before its gone. "It chose you. You're obviously the better choice. I look forward to seeing what you can do."
Hermione ducks her head, still uncomfortable that she kind of stole his place. His dream. Even if it's for the best. He's just so nice. Practically made to be the dashing hero.
"You can find out what Granger can do on your own time, Diggory," a voice barks. "But for the next few hours, she's mine. Get in here, Granger, or I'll add another week."
Hermione almost rolls her eyes again, but stops herself. Bossy. And quite needy, actually! She's only…a minute late or something!
She smiles apologetically at Cedric and then walks past him, over to the DADA room.
Bellatrix is stood in the doorway, but turns around and makes her way into the room as Hermione arrives.
"Come on, then. Through to the back room."
Umm…
Right. Okay. Just a classroom. Nothing dangerous or deadly.
Other than the Death Eater.
It'll be fine.
Will it?
She's a professor. She's pretending to be a professor. She can't hurt a student.
She could imperio you to get to Harry…
She can get to Harry anyway. She walks past him every day. Now be a Gryffindor and get in there!
Hermione does as she's told and quickly makes her way past the desks and into the smaller…back…room.
Not smaller. A huge back room. What? This isn't the same as—
When Harry had mentioned trunks, and tanks, and cases, he hadn't mentioned that there were dozens of them. So many creatures. Plants. Books. Would Moody really have—
Alright, there are still sneakascopes everywhere too. And a foe-glass on the wall. A secrecy sensor. But also an owl, spiders in a tank, hinkypunks in another. There's a rat in a cage…
She counts the fingers and toes. Not Wormtail. Well that's a—
Bellatrix comes to stand next to her. Pulls out a—
Knife—
Hermione flinches. Backs away towards the exit and—
Bellatrix looks at Hermione. Frowns and reaches into her other pocket. Pulls out an apple.
Cuts a slice and gives it to the rat. Oh.
Cuts another slice. Walks over and gives it to a Cornish pixie in another cage in a corner. It's awake and watching them, the other pixies floating around sleepily. "Hungry?"
Hermione swallows. Is…she talking to her? Or the pixie?
Bellatrix turns to look at her over her shoulder. Raises an eyebrow again.
Hermione just shakes her head.
Bellatrix takes a bite of the apple. "Fair enough."
And she waves her wand to open a crate on the far side of the room. Throws what's left of the apple inside and then closes the crate up again.
Hermione wanders closer. "What's in there?"
Bellatrix shrugs, limping through the room and over to a door. "Nothing special. Doxies. Definitely got to be vigilant with those. They've bitten at least half a dozen third years by now. Turns out they like biting apples too."
She opens another door and walks through. "Come on. In here."
Hermione edges along past different boxes and…enclosures, careful not to knock over any of the sneakascopes or…books. There are some Herbology books scattered around, next to some Care of Magical Creatures books. So she wasn't lying to Neville about the plants.
This…
Wasn't Dumbledore suspicious when he saw this? Mad-Eye never cared about animals.
But neither did Bellatrix, she doesn't think. And it is technically part of the job, so…
"Granger!" Bellatrix barks. "Stop gawping and hurry up! This is detention, not— And don't open that. There's a boggart in it!"
Hermione steps away from the rattling trunk. Boggart? Or the real Mad-Eye trapped inside?
She leaves it for now. Walks through to another back room…
A small office room, with two large side-by-side desks, a stack of parchment, a clock on the wall, and not much else.
The desks are identical. Bellatrix probably duplicated her one.
Bellatrix sits down at one of the desks. Pulls the stack of parchment towards herself. "Sit. You're going to help me mark some essays. First and second years. Think you can manage that?"
Hermione slowly sits down too, frowning. Bellatrix's mood seems to have taken a sharp turn. The strange casualness from earlier has disappeared. "Yes…" Hermione replies questioningly. Tries to study her. Figure her out.
Not angry. Just…grumpy. Irritable. Tense.
"Yes, Sir," Bellatrix corrects, handing her half the essays and a mark scheme.
Hermione takes them and nods. "Sir," she repeats. And then more quietly under her breath. "If you say so."
Bellatrix ignores her. Starts marking.
Okay…
Hermione shivers in the draughty room, but decides against casting a warming spell, instead pulling the first essay towards her to make a start. It's…not great. And short.
She turns the parchment over to check there isn't more on the back. There isn't.
Well then. Let's see what the second years know about Cornish pixies…
As it turns out, not a lot. None of them know much of anything. And they can't spell to save their lives, which isn't surprising seeing as there are no literacy lessons at Hogwarts.
Hermione sighs to herself, unclenching her hand as it cramps.
Stops and looks at Bellatrix, who has been slowly and steadily marking this whole time, without pause or complaint. Just the occasional sip from her flask.
"Don't you get tired of this?" Hermione can't help but ask.
Bellatrix's quill still doesn't pause, but she shifts slightly in her seat, hunching further over the parchment. "Of what?"
Hermione raises an eyebrow. Surely Bellatrix can read between the lines. Knows what she's asking. Harry and Ron shouted her identity to the entire school, she must know what Hermione knows. Keeping up the act all the time must be exhausting.
Bellatrix continues marking.
Hermione sighs. "This. Don't you get tired of this? All the time?"
Bellatrix writes a large letter E at the top of the page and pulls another sheet towards her. "Do you?" Bellatrix murmurs. "Get tired?"
Hermione blinks. Feels her breath catch for a second.
Did she mean…did that mean…
"Of course. Sometimes," Hermione whispers.
Bellatrix glances at her. The real eye.
Hermione hesitantly continues. "It can be hard sometimes. A lot of the time. But there are a lot of good moments too."
Her heart pounds as she speaks so truthfully. It's the truth. Being here in the past is so hard. But getting to be back at Hogwarts with all of her friends again is…so comforting. Nostalgic. Safe. It feels oddly safe. Being watched over again by the professors. All those familiar faces and places.
Bellatrix holds eye contact. Seems to stare into her soul.
Hermione really hopes she doesn't know advanced legilimency. Should look away. Can't bring herself to.
Bellatrix looks away. Looks back to her marking. "You put your name in the goblet," she says. A gruff statement.
Hermione slowly shakes her head. "I'm too young. Someone else put my name in for me."
No reply.
Silence once more, other than the scratching of quills. The tick of the clock.
Bellatrix takes out her flask. Unscrews it. Brings it to her lips.
Pauses. Doesn't take a drink.
Screws it back up and puts it down on the desk. "You put your name in the goblet," Bellatrix repeats. Firmly this time.
Hermione continues marking. Decides that this one is acceptable. Writes an A at the top.
Glances up at Bellatrix.
Sod it. "You put your name in the goblet," Hermione says right back, just as firmly.
Bellatrix meets her eye. Tilts her head to the side. "You're…hiding something."
Hermione's heart picks up. The hairs on her arms standing on end under Bellatrix's certainty. She feels exposed. Impossibly caught out in her fifteen-year-old act.
But…
Was that…confirmation from Bellatrix too? She didn't deny anything.
Hermione darts her eyes to the flask. "You're hiding something," she repeats back.
Because it seems like this is what they're doing. Exchanging statements that are true to both of them.
Bellatrix chuckles lowly. Eye glinting. Hovers all the marked essays into one drawer, and all of the unmarked ones into another.
Leans back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. "You're scared," Bellatrix says calmly. Continues staring up.
Oh.
Hermione shifts to sit up in her chair. So she can look at Bellatrix properly. Or as well as she can, in Moody's skin. At her lying back in the chair, rocking slightly. Wooden leg at an awkward angle. Magical eye rolled back. Heavy leather cloak on.
Scared?
"You're tired," Hermione says slowly instead.
Bellatrix's real eye falls shut. A calmness falls over her demeanour. "You're pushing it, cheeky witch. You're good at that. Pushing your luck."
Hermione can't help but smile, slightly confusedly. True. For both of them.
Bellatrix lifts a hand and gestures lazily at the door. "Go. Go on, go. You're right. I'm tired. Goodnight, Granger."
For a moment, Hermione doesn't move. Has the strange urge to…stay. Find out more.
But soon makes herself get up. Bellatrix is right. Pushing her luck.
She heads for the door, glancing at the clock. Nine. She'll be back before curfew.
She pauses in the doorway. "You hate me," she says quietly. Another truth for their game. You hate me, I hate you. We're on opposite sides. We're both just pretending.
Except…
The words don't strike true. Fall flat. For the first time tonight.
There's no reply. She turns to look.
Bellatrix sits up. Shrugs out of her leather cloak. Picks her flask back up and takes a sip. "If you say so, Granger. If you say so."
And Hermione feels an odd…guilt. She's not sure why. She shouldn't. Because she does— because they are—
Hermione shakes her head. "Goodnight, Sir."
Walks the winding path past the various creatures and scattered objects, through to the classroom and leaves for the warm glow of the Common Room.
With one thought nagging at her mind.
Whatever world she's in, this Bellatrix…
…doesn't actually seem crazy at all.