Chapter 15: Face the TruthChapter Text
The others go into Hogsmeade again the next day, but this time Hermione stays behind. The first task is creeping up on her, and it's making her nervous.
She wakes up early. Heads straight for the Room of Requirement, the only one awake, wandering the chilly, empty corridors.
And once she's asked it to appear, asked for an arena, a realistic but safe arena, she begins.
Imagines a dragon on the nest. Casts the charms to protect her clothes. Takes a calming breath, and transfigures a rock into a horse.
And waits. Waits for an opening.
Runs for the—
Is hit by a blast of flames. Fake flames.
Again. She tries again.
Transfigures a rock that's further away this time. Sprints— ducks!
Hides behind a rock. Okay. Closer. That's closer.
And the dragon has moved away to look for her…
She transfigures another rock into a heavy iron chain. Animates it. "Incarcerous!"
It clamps around the dragon's ankle, and it lets out a roar. Thrashes and flaps its wings—
Hermione clambers up the nest. Reaches the—
Got it! But here comes the—
She slides back down, bringing up a protego and panting as—
Flames hit her shield. Pass through. Burnt.
She imagines the dragon away, and collapses down to lie in the dust.
Great.
This…cannot be the best plan. It's not.
Oh why did Fleur have to have the best plan?! And Viktor's isn't that bad. If she didn't care, she could just blind the dragon and be done with it!
But she does care. Just the feel of the dragons last night. Magic, in the most…muggle sense. They feel like magic. Extraordinary. Breath-taking.
She struggles to her feet. Dusts herself off. Right. She needs a new idea.
So she needs books.
And a door appears in the arena wall. Huh. That's never happened before.
She puts down the golden egg. Takes her wand out instead, and slowly makes her way over. Cautiously tries the door handle.
It's unlocked. She peeks through…
Oh. Is this a secret library? There are bookshelves. Chairs and sofas. High ceilings, and tall windows, with calming blue wallpaper and—
Two girls hurry through the room, putting their cloaks on and then heading—
Oh! Blue and bronze!
Is this…the Ravenclaw Common Room?
No-one else is around. She pushes the door open a bit more.
Realises she's higher than the floor. Is behind a portrait.
Checks again for Ravenclaws. Looks longingly at the books covering the walls.
Climbs through. She just wants a look. A little—
"Hello, Hermione Granger. You're in the wrong house again."
Hermione jumps and spins around. Luna. Curled up in a window seat.
Hermione smiles through a nervous laugh. "Yes. Sorry. I just— I was looking for books about…dragons."
Oops. She's didn't mean to say that. The dragons are still a secret.
Luna just smiles and jumps up to pad over. "Oh, well you're in the right place, then. There are an awful lot of books here."
They both stand and look up at the nearest bookshelf. In awkward silence.
Hermione clears her throat. "Where…is everyone else?"
Luna begins to sway, twirling her skirt. "Third years and above can go to Hogsmeade with a permission slip. It has to be signed though, and Daddy doesn't believe in signatures. Names are powerful, you see. And…the first and second years have all left too. I'm not sure where they are. They didn't tell me."
So…oh. All alone.
Hermione reaches for Luna's hand. Squeezes. "He's right. Names are very important. Maybe he could just sign with an 'x' so you can go next time."
Luna squeezes back. Swings their hands. "I suppose he could. As long as he doesn't think his name behind it. It's the thought that counts."
Thought. Names. Intent. Words.
Hermione looks at Luna curiously. "Luna…if you had to…take something from a dragon, something…they think belongs to them, but it doesn't, how would you do it?"
Luna takes her wand out from behind her ear and taps her lip with it. "It doesn't belong to them? And you really need it? Could you tell them that it's not theirs? Ask for it back?"
Hermione smiles. "I could, if I could talk to dragons, which I can't."
Luna wanders over to look at a plant in the corner. Sighs. "Then I suppose they would be rather angry with you. No-one likes their things being taken. I have my clothes back now. Did I tell you? Ginny helped me explain that I need them back. She was very cross. It was quite a relief. And I'm much warmer now."
She taps her feet together. Her trainers.
Hermione starts perusing the books. Charms. Maybe a shield charm. A book about protection. "I'm glad. And if it happens again, tell me or Ginny. Or Ron and Harry. They'll help you too."
Luna laughs softly, and it echoes through the room. "Ask Harry Potter? Oh, no. He doesn't need to help anyone else. He's saving far too many people already. It does make him happy. And sad. People needing him."
Right. Luna is right. No more pressure or responsibilities on Harry.
"I'm sure he'd still like to talk to you though, Luna," Hermione hums as she flicks through a book. "You're a good friend. And very wise."
Arms go around Hermione from behind. A warm hug. "Thank you. You're very clever too, Hermione Granger. But you know that. You're very clever at doing exactly what's needed, at exactly the right time."
Hermione freezes. Time?
She feels Luna lean on her to look over her shoulder. At the book.
"Protection," Luna whispers. "Yes. Very sensible. Charms."
And she accios a book from the shelf. Gives it over to Hermione. "Don't forget this, though. You often forget this."
And then the warmth is gone from her back. Luna skips away. Leaves the room completely. No explanation or goodbye.
Hermione looks at the cover. It's…The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
She groans. Not again. There is no way she needs to read this again. There's nothing about dragons, or—
It opens in her hands. By itself. Opens to The Fountain of Fair Fortune
A tale about four people who travel to a magical fountain to get a cure for their different problems, but, once they arrive, realise that they had what they needed all along.
It's basically the magical version of the Wizard of Oz.
So…
She has what she needs?
In the story, the people help each other to get what they need. The first witch is very ill, and looking for a cure. The second witch saves the life of the first with a potion she brews. This makes her realise she has a talent, and can become a potioneer for money, meaning she's no longer in poverty, and doesn't need to ask the fountain for riches. The third witch comes to terms with her lost love along the journey, washing away her sorrows in the fountain rather than asking for her lover back. And marries the final member of the party. A wizard. Sir Luckless. Who is finally lucky enough to find a witch to love him.
So…
Hermione puts it in her bag with a sigh.
What…is Luna trying to tell her?
She puzzles over the book for the rest of the morning. Then makes herself go down to lunch. And returns to the Room of Requirement to practice, none the wiser.
By late afternoon, she's managed to get the egg four times without getting 'burnt'.
And is caught off guard half a dozen more times.
Goes to the library. Researches wards. Shields.
Nothing.
She might have to accio a literal shield and suit of armour towards her at this point. There are enough of them in the castle.
Day turns to dusk. Her eyes become heavy, squinting in the dim light.
Enough of this. Time for some fresh air. There are other ways of studying. More practical ways.
The trip back to the dragons is a lot easier than the night before, now she knows that you don't have to go through the forest to get to them. They're not in the forest. You can walk around the lake, and reach them as soon as the castle is out of sight.
Charlie is busy. Constantly surrounded by other keepers, trying to calm the increasingly agitated dragons. Tonks isn't there.
The cold sets in, breath visible in the air, even with the bursts of flames.
Hermione stays. Curls up against a tree under her cloak and a concealment charm, and watches. Tries to keep her heart steady as the dragons snap their jaws and fight off the keepers.
It will be okay. She'll be fine. She knows the charm for fireproof robes. And she has a plan. It will work. She thinks. She'll just…transfigure more chains. Chain the dragon away from the nest.
For now though, she just watches. Feels the magic. Lets it calm her. Reminds herself that these dragons are nesting mothers. That they're just defending their children. Are caring, really.
She names them. By their colours. Assigns the same colours to their magic. Blue. Green. Red.
Black.
The Hungarian Horntail.
She…hopes she doesn't get the black one. It has more fight. Fighting the hardest.
She focuses on it. On her. On that one. Feels the magic. The heat of it. It's the fiercest. The biggest threat.
The one she needs to feel the most. Understand the most.
Soon the sun has set completely. Pitch black.
Not long until dinner now.
And then detention.
Hermione stays. Watches.
She pushes open the door to the DADA classroom at seven o'clock sharp, determined to have as much time as possible to figure out once and for all what Bellatrix is—
Ducks a spell that hisses and sparks towards her, leaving a mark on the door where her head had been. Wha—
She stays ducked and crawls behind a desk, casting a protego as she leans slightly to…
No-one there. Gone again.
Hermione waits. And waits.
Huffs in frustration. Time to go off a hunch she's had for a while. "Using an invisibility cloak is cheating!" she calls out into the room.
"Tell that to Potter."
Ah!
Hermione spins around and falls on her arse on the floor at the whisper in her ear.
Bellatrix grins at her. Stands up straight again from where she'd been crouching behind a nearby desk, wand pointed at Hermione. "There's no such thing as cheating in a fight. Fights are never fair. And it looks like you need a lot more practice before the first task, Granger."
Hermione gets to her feet. "That's not what you told Draco about cheating. When he hexed Harry from behind. You turned him into a ferret."
Bellatrix frowns. Lowers her wand.
Opens her mouth. Closes it.
Shrugs and walks towards the blackboard. "You're right. Guess I was just in a bad mood that day. Plus it wasn't a real fight. Just Malfoy tripping over his ego."
She starts cleaning the blackboard. Rubbing off the writing. Without magic.
Hermione wanders over curiously. Here it is again. That calm, easy conversation.
Different. What did Bellatrix say to Sirius? He said…that they were safe at Hogwarts. That Bellatrix has changed. "Actually, for once Draco didn't seem very sure of himself," Hermione says cautiously. "It was because Harry mentioned Narcissa. I think he was upset."
Bellatrix pauses.
Picks up a piece of chalk without comment.
"Is…is Mrs Malfoy any better now?" Hermione asks.
The chalk snaps in Bellatrix's hand and falls to the floor. "How should I know?" she asks roughly.
Okay. One question too far…
Hermione doesn't bother replying. Walks away to look out the window.
It's dark. She can't see out. But can see the reflection of the classroom. Can keep her wand at the ready.
Bellatrix taps her fingers on the board. Drums them. One two three four. One two three four.
"How long have you been here?" Bellatrix asks quietly.
…What?
What does she mean? She's…been in the classroom for a few minutes.
One two three four. One two three four.
"When did you come from?" Bellatrix asks.
And Hermione feels her heart plunge into her stomach. The breath leave her lungs.
She stares helplessly at her reflection. "I— I don't understand what you're talking about," she says shakily.
She hears footsteps coming closer behind her. Can't bring herself to turn around.
"Yes. You do," Bellatrix says firmly. "You know what you know. And now you know what I know. What we both know. So. How do you want to…proceed with this? Does anyone else know?"
What is happening what is happening how is this happening?
How? How does she know?
She opens her eyes. She isn't sure when they fell shut. Bellatrix is stood right behind her.
Hermione shakes her head. "It— you don't know. I don't know. None of this— I saw you. At the Quidditch World Cup, I saw you."
Bellatrix chuckles. "I know. And you saw because you were looking. And I've seen. Because I'm looking. Do you understand?"
Hermione spins around. "No," she groans frustratedly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. You— you don't make any sense!"
Bellatrix grins. "And neither do you. It's exciting, isn't it?"
Hermione laughs. What? Exciting? "This is…fun for you? It's a nightmare! This whole thing is—"
Bellatrix barks out a laugh. "Oh, Granger, you have no idea. If you only knew. But gods, it's nice to have someone that knows. Can we say it? Please just say it."
Hermione puts her head in her hands and pushes past Bellatrix. She needs space. She needs— "This is too complicated! I can't tell you— or I shouldn't— this shouldn't be happening!"
"Should or shouldn't. It's happening. Should I go first?"
Hermione brings her hands down. Turns around.
Bellatrix is just stood there. In the centre of the room. Casually.
Looking like Mad-Eye Moody.
Bellatrix sighs. "You're not from here. You're not from now. You've come back. Accidentally, by the sounds of it. And I'm fucking up your plans."
Hermione doesn't nod. Can't nod. Can't admit it.
But…
"You're Bellatrix Lestrange," she whispers, fiddling with her wand. "Bellatrix Black. And…I don't know why you're here."
Bellatrix doesn't nod either. Doesn't react.
Slowly walks back over to the blackboard, repairing the chalk on the floor and picking it up.
"So…know anything about dragons?" Bellatrix slowly asks.
Then chuckles, shoulders moving up and down. "Because I fucking don't."
A surprised laugh escapes Hermione's mouth.
She— that—
She doesn't know anything about dragons?
"Maybe. I don't think the champions are supposed to help each other though, if that's what you're asking."
Bellatrix shrugs out of her cloak and drops it on the floor, freeing her arms and throwing them up in the air, stretching. "I didn't ask to fight a bloody dragon!" she groans out, looking at the ceiling. "You're the one crazy enough to put your name in. Spell resistant scales. Merlin's balls."
Hermione can't believe this. Just cannot believe this is actually happening right now.
She falls down to sit at a desk in shock. "You're admitting it."
Bellatrix stops.
Lowers her arms. "Are you going to tell anyone?"
Hermione opens her mouth.
Closes it.
Opens it again. "I…already have. And Harry did. You know that. We always knew it was you."
Bellatrix bends down and picks her cloak up. Reaches into the pocket. Takes out a folded piece of parchment. "From Sirius' map," she mutters.
Holds it out to Hermione, behind her back.
The Marauders' Map.
Hermione slowly gets up. Tiptoes over. Carefully pulls it from Bellatrix's hand, amazed that she's giving it back. "Did you look at it?"
Bellatrix shakes her head, still facing away. "I never knew the password."
Right. Well…that's good.
"I won't tell anyone," Bellatrix says quietly. "About you. I've known about you for a while too. I haven't told anyone."
Hermione puts the map in her pocket. "How? Why?" she asks just as softly, not wanting to do anything to break this strange atmosphere. This strange calm.
Bellatrix doesn't answer. Just stands there.
And her hair…starts to move. To curl. To darken. Very quickly.
Hermione watches.
Watches as Bellatrix…begins to shrink. Steadies herself on the blackboard.
"I should go," Hermione whispers.
"You have detention," Bellatrix replies gruffly. Roughly. Voice wavering in pitch.
Hermione hurriedly shakes her head. Steps back. "I don't— I'm not supposed to see this. I don't— I don't want to see you."
Bellatrix laughs. It's throaty and feminine. "Don't want to see the truth? Can't face it? Can't accept it? I thought you wanted to see who I am. You watch me enough."
"I…"
Bellatrix groans. Grabs her knee. Starts unscrewing the wooden leg.
Why is— "I should turn you in," Hermione says shakily, raising her wand and backing towards the door. "I should tell Dumbledore. You— you're dangerous. For— for Harry, and— and—"
Bellatrix wobbles and curses to herself. Falls to sit on the floor. There's a loud tap as the magical eye falls out. Bounces and then rolls across the floor and under a stool.
Her hair is completely dark now. Long and curly. And she's smaller. Drowning in Moody's clothes.
"You could tell Dumbledore," Bellatrix says, nodding. Her voice is— it's her voice. "You could show him your memories in the pensieve. You could tell him everything."
And Bellatrix twists around on the floor. Turns, so she's facing Hermione.
Hermione freezes. Can't look away. Thinks her heart might beat out of her chest.
Her. It's her. Those eyes. Both eyes, and that hair, and that familiar expression on the right face. Right there. Exactly as she remembers. The face imprinted in her still lingering nightmares, but…
Calmer. Relaxed features. Not twisted in anger, or fear. Looking at Hermione…openly.
And then shifting as Bellatrix smiles sadly. "Please don't. I won't tell anyone about you. Please don't tell anyone about me. I…really don't want to go back, if I can help it."
Hermione swallows. Can't find any words.
Bellatrix sighs shakily. Brings her hands up to her newly revealed face, and just trails her finger over it. Over her cheeks, and her nose. Over her hair.
Touches her chin, and neck, and shoulders. Rubs her hands up and down her arms, as if warming them up. Splays her legs out in front of her. Wiggles her feet and then reaching to touch her shins. Both shins. No wooden leg. The relief on Bellatrix's face is obvious.
But then she pauses. Pulls back.
Crosses her legs and rolls up her sleeve. Looks at the Dark Mark. "Now what am I going to fucking do about this?"
What…
Hermione takes a careful step closer.
Then hastily retreats as Bellatrix's finger moves to the Mark. Touches it.
Hermione hits into the door, raising her wand.
Bellatrix looks up. Frowns in confusion. "What…Oh. Oh, no. I'm not calling him. Can't do that. It's gone grey, see? Because he hasn't got a strong enough body."
She casually holds up her arm to show Hermione.
Hermione grits her teeth. "I know. That's what you're doing. You want him to get his body back. That's why you wanted Harry to be in the tournament. That's why we stopped you."
Bellatrix's arm falls to her side. Her sleeve falls down over it, too long. "Yes, how did you do that? You said I put my name in, but I didn't. I put— And look, you don't have to worry about Potter. You never have to worry about Potter. We're the ones who are royally fucked. Me more than you, if I'm honest. You seem to be doing just fine."
Hermione resists the urge to laugh again. This is— whatever universe she's in, Bellatrix is somehow funny now. And chatty? Very chatty.
And looks kind of ridiculous still sat on the floor in a puddle of clothes. Hermione hadn't realised before how small she is.
Right. Let's just get a few things straight then.
Hermione clears her throat. "So…you don't want to kill me?"
Bellatrix leans on her knees as she gets up, stepping out of the one boot on her left foot that's so big it just falls off. "What? No. I told you. You're interesting. You're the only exciting thing going on around here."
Only— There's a whole tournament! And time travel! And a resurrection plot! And— "I'm a muggleborn!" Hermione shouts, completely flummoxed now.
Bellatrix rolls her eyes. "I know. Hermione Granger. Muggleborn. Friends with Harry Potter. Thinks too fast but moves too slow. I've been teaching you for months, I know who you are."
Thinks too…what? So she knows she's a muggleborn, but has been watching her, and analysing her, and— but—
"And my blood doesn't bother you?!" Hermione squawks.
Bellatrix points her wand at herself and starts shrinking her clothes. "Nope. I'm done with all that. Done with everything, actually. Can't quite figure out what the point of anything is anymore. I was just going along with it. Teaching is fun though. Or would be, if I wasn't stuck in the worst body imaginable," she finishes with a quiet mutter.
Hermione…walks closer to Bellatrix once more. As close as she dares. Right up to her. Searches her face. The slight frown of concentration as she judges when to stop the shrinking spell. The look in her eyes.
Focused eyes. No madness. No…
Hermione takes a shaky breath in the suddenly heavy air…and reaches out. Touches Bellatrix's shoulder. Just taps it. To check she's real.
Bellatrix stops the shrinking spell and looks up. Grins. "Hi."
Hermione stares back. "You don't make any sense. Who— who are you? What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here."
Bellatrix frowns.
Then holds out her hand for Hermione to shake. "Bellatrix Black. And I'm just as confused as you are. Try not to think about it too much. Messes with your head. Just…if you've met me before, try to forget all that, alright? It hasn't happened to us yet, whenever you're from."
Hermione doesn't shake her hand. Of course she doesn't. Why would she— "You're not easy to just forget," Hermione says coldly. "Or forgive."
Bellatrix's expression falls. She takes a step back. Turns to face the blackboard.
Draws a large circle. "I didn't ask for forgiveness."
Hermione shakes her head jerkily. "You want my help. With the dragons."
Bellatrix shrugs. "Not really. I have a few ideas. Just wasn't sure if I should…don't know. Too many options. Just wanted to talk to someone about it."
Oh.
No. No, Hermione is not feeling sorry for her. She doesn't— They're not friends. They're not anything! They're—
Don't trust her. Remember what Ginny said, don't trust her.
The chalk scrapes down the centre of the blackboard. Bellatrix is drawing a dragon eye.
"You can go now, Granger. End of detention," she mutters.
Hermione frowns. "It's only been a few minutes. And what are you going to do? How are you going to even compete? Everyone thinks you're dead. How—"
Bellatrix points her wand over her shoulder at Hermione. "You worry about yourself. I'll worry about me. Discussion over. Class dismissed."
"But I—"
A silencio hits her. And then her jacket sleeves grow longer. And longer. Come to life and wrap around her like a strait jacket.
There's a bang as the door behind her flies open.
And then a gust of wind blasts her backwards, feet skidding on stone. Through the doorway and out into the—
Ow!
Corridor.
She smacks into a stone wall, losing her balance and sliding down against it.
The door to the classroom closes and locks itself.
She sits on the floor in her too-big clothes, cursing silently to herself and trying to find her wand.
What the fuck?
Chapter 16: Enter the ArenaChapter Text
Hermione runs up the spiral staircase, panting and stumbling as she jumps the disappearing step. Pushes her way through the tapestry. Sprints towards the Fat Lady. "Balderdash!"
"Someone's in a hurry," the Fat Lady comments as she swings open.
Hermione staggers through. Looks around for—
Spots Harry and Ron.
Drags them away from Seamus and Dean.
"Hermione—"
"Upstairs. Now. Have to talk to you. Is Ginny—"
"I think she's in her dorm. What's wrong? Did she—"
She urges Harry up the stairs. "I'll go get her. I'm fine, but— We'll meet on your bed."
And she heads off to Ginny's room. She cannot believe what she has to tell them.
Harry pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and then takes the Marauders' Map from her with a frown. "But…why?"
Hermione throws her hands in the air. "I don't know! I don't know anything! She just said she knew about my time-travelling, wasn't going to tell anyone, and that she doesn't want to hurt or kill either of us! I don't think she even follows You Know Who anymore!"
Ron tucks his knees up, checking the curtains around Harry's bed are still completely drawn shut. There's a silencing charm too. "So she's an ex-Death Eater now, like Snape and Karkaroff? She's turned good? Why did she try to put Harry's name in the goblet then?"
Hermione sighs. "Again, no idea."
Silence falls, all of them lost in their shared confusion.
Then Ron shrugs. "Guess she's not our problem anymore, then. Sucks for You Know Who, but she doesn't want to work for him anymore. Can't blame her. Most loyal servant. I wouldn't bring him back to life either if I was just going to be bossed around."
...A bit simplistic, but also true. Hermione lets out a quiet laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. "So…she's not a problem. She's just…there."
"If she's telling the truth," Ginny says.
This again. Which she understands, of course, but…
She squeezes Ginny's ankle. "She's not manipulative like him. None of you understand how…terrifying she was in my time. Impulsive. Violent. She wasn't like…the Malfoys. She didn't play a part, or tolerate people like me to keep up appearances. She'd never even touch someone like me except to hurt them. She didn't think we were worthy of speaking to her. But now she talks to me all the time! She's…different!"
Harry nods. "Like Sirius said. She's changed."
Hermione lies down, head in Ginny's lap.
Changed. She's definitely changed.
And now everything has changed.
So…if Hermione isn't here to stop Bellatrix…
Then why is she here?
Tuesday. It's already Tuesday. She hadn't even registered Monday passing, too caught up in her thoughts, drifting from Herbology to Care of Magical Creatures to Arithmancy.
And now the day is here. The dreaded day. The first task.
She can't stand it. She feels nauseous. Thinks she might actually faint if something doesn't distract her soon, stuck in History of Magic. It seems even in this universe, history doesn't change. She already knows everything about the goblin wars. There's nothing else to learn.
Instead, she feels for her magic. Closes her eyes like everyone else beginning to drop off to sleep as Professor Binns drones on and on.
She can feel Hogwarts. It's soothing. And she thinks she can feel Harry's magic, even when he's not using it now.
It is comforting. Calms her magic. Makes her more…aware of it. Self-aware. Like her magic is clearer. Sharper.
Right then. Now you're awake, be productive.
She sits up. Wakes herself up, and writes out her list of spells. Her plan for the task.
Fireproof robes. Transfigure a horse. Transfigure the chains. Accio the egg, if she can. Run.
It seems far too risky. Unpredictable.
But she can't think of another way. Fleur and Viktor already took the best approaches. And Cedric's idea wasn't bad. It doesn't matter what marks she gets. So as long as she doesn't catch on fire, and distracts the dragon long enough to get to the egg—
And the bell rings for lunch.
Okay. Okay, nearly time.
Harry throws an arm over her shoulder. "You okay? Is there anything we can do to help? I could—"
"I need to get out of here," she whispers. "Just— fresh air. And then lunch. And then I'll be taken down to…"
Ron takes her bag from her. "One step at a time, yeah? And remember, we'll be in the stands. Harry's bringing his broom, so if you need to get out of there—"
She pulls them to a stop. They're outside in the corridor now. She's not sure when that happened.
And stares at Harry. Feels tears gather in her eyes.
Cups his face. "You— you have your broom? Harry, you don't have to—"
He smiles awkwardly. "Someone has to be there to save you. Just in case. I know you'll be brilliant. You always are. But if you need help, well, me and Ron remembered what you told us about the firebolt. I can be there in a flash."
She hugs him. Drags Ron over and hugs him too, blocking the corridor. Breathes in the smell of Harry. "I love you both so much. You know that, right?"
Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. "Uh— Yeah. We— I mean—" he pulls back. Shares a slightly panicked, confused look with Ron at how emotional she's getting.
She smiles at them both.
Continues walking down the corridor. "I know. And don't worry, I have a lot of spells I could use. A lot of options. I'm just trying not to hurt the dragon, but if I have to?" She shrugs uncomfortably. "It's better than burning alive. And I could always use the same spell as Fleur, even if it seems suspicious."
They reach the Great Hall. Luckily there isn't a line today. And there's space at the— oh good, Ginny.
She takes her bag back from Ron and squeezes onto the bench, Ginny giving her a hug.
"Hey. I didn't know how long you'd have, so I've filled up a plate for you. Probably best if you eat a little bit. Just slowly. Energy," Ginny says softly.
Hermione fights tears yet again and forces herself to eat a bite of a sandwich as her stomach churns as flips. Fine. It's fine. Protection, distraction, take the egg, leave. It will be over before you know it.
And the next task will be so much easier. Swimming in a lake. No problem. And you already know the clue.
She wonders who will be taken into the lake this time. Harry, maybe? Or Ron? Or Ginny?
She eats another bite. And another.
Makes herself drink some pumpkin juice.
Fine, fine, fine.
Breathe. You—
She jumps as someone taps her shoulder. Turns—
Oh.
Bellatrix bends down to whisper in her ear, close enough so Harry can probably hear, but that's about it.
"Hi. It's nearly time. McGonagall is coming to get you."
Well this is strange. She'd thought Bellatrix might ignore her again, but it seems like...they're still talking. When they don't really have to.
Hermione swallows. Slowly nods. "Thank you…for telling me. What— Do you know what you're going to do?"
Bellatrix looks…tired. Quite pale. Her expression is difficult to read on Moody's face.
Hermione almost wishes…
But Bellatrix suddenly grins. "Worried about me? I'll be fine, Granger. I've narrowed down my options. You know what you're doing?"
Hermione cautiously smiles back. "Yes. I think so. I'm keeping my options open though."
Bellatrix stands back up. "Sounds sensible," she says, more loudly now, some people turning to look.
Including McGonagall, who is hurrying down the aisle towards them, clearly anxious.
There's a brief flash of fear on Bellatrix's face, there and gone. Her eyes dart to Harry. Then back to Hermione.
And then she gently squeezes Hermione's shoulder. "Good luck. Be vigilant. And try not to die, I was just starting to like you, Granger."
"Alastor!" McGonagall gasps, aghast. "This is no time for jokes! This— Miss Granger, I'm sorry but you need to leave now to be with the other champions, ready for the first task."
Hermione distractedly gets to her feet, glancing from Bellatrix, to Harry and Ron and…just…
Likes her? Bellatrix likes her? Why is she being so nice to her? What is—
She doesn't need all this confusion right now! Why—
Ginny pats her on the back. "Good luck. We'll see you soon. It'll be fine, you've got this."
Harry smiles and nods. Gives her a weak thumbs up.
Ron hands her an apple. "Here. Just in case, you know, don't know how long you'll be—"
McGonagall takes the apple. "That is very thoughtful of you, Mr Weasley, but I'm afraid Miss Granger is only allowed her wand," she says gently. Puts the apple down on her table and looks at Hermione. "You may give your belongings to me…or to your friends now, if you would like."
Hermione swallows. Hands her bag to Ginny.
Gets another tight, wavering smile from McGonagall, and is lead from the room.
Don't be sick. Don't— you can do this. You can do this. Viktor is doing this. Fleur will be there. And Dumbledore will— If you're about to die then—
She breathes deeply as they make their way around the lake. Tries to feel the wind, and the cold November air, and the magic.
Magic. Can she feel McGonagall?
She thinks so. Yes. A steady presence at her side, or…no, steady isn't the right word. More…directed. Precise.
The warm buzz of the castle is fading. And as they move past the trees…
Blue? Black? Red? Green? Can she feel any of the dragons? Can she picture any of them?
She doesn't think she can.
McGonagall puts a hand on her shoulder. "Now, don't panic. Just keep a cool head. We've…got wizards standing by to control the situation if anything gets out of hand, so…"
They round the corner to where the dragons are usually kept, but instead a large tent is blocking the view and their path.
Now McGonagall is the one who looks like she might faint. She clears her throat, and continues. "In you go. It's just like any other examination, Miss Granger. You are…the best student I have seen in a long time, with knowledge far greater than even some of my NEWT level students. Remember that. As erroneous as you were in entering your name, the goblet picked you to represent our school for a reason."
Oh. Oh that's so—
Hermione forces a smile onto her face. "Thank you, Professor. I'm— I'm sure I'll be fine."
That's all she can really manage to say. So.
She looks back to the tent. Stands tall. Clenches her jaw, grips her wand tightly, and walks inside.
"Ah, here she is! Good-o!" Bagman says, practically bouncing up and down in excitement, and oblivious to the tension in the room. Viktor looks so nervous that his whole body is tensed, and she's never seen Fleur so shaken, perched on a wooden stool in the corner and staring at the ground.
No Bellatrix. Obviously. But how is she going to—
"Don't just stand there. Come in, come in. Make yourself at home," Bagman grins. "Now you're all here, it's time to fill you in!"
Hermione makes her way to the centre of the room. Offers a shaky smile to Viktor and Fleur as they come over.
Bagman rubs his hands together and then picks up a purple sack. "Good. So once the audience has assembled, I'll be offering each of you this bag, from which you'll each select a…uh…variety of the thing you're about to face! Oh! And I have to tell you something else too. Your task…is to collect the golden egg!"
He looks around at them, waiting for a reaction.
There isn't one. They all know what they're facing.
Bagman smiles at them brightly and then walks over to the entrance, ducking through the tent flap.
Hermione feels a tug on her sleeve. Oh.
Fleur smiles weakly, fingers brushing Hermione's wrist and then retreating. "So…I think perhaps we are all picked by the goblet because we are very stupid."
Hermione lets out a quiet laugh. Looks at her and Viktor. "Definitely. Do you think they'll notice if we all escape to the Three Broomsticks instead?"
Viktor walks closer, frowning. "I think they notice. I think this is not allowed. We are champions. We compete."
Hermione resists the urge to roll her eyes. Still struggles with sarcasm then.
Fleur gives her a look, turning so Viktor can't see. "Ah well. You are right. Afterwards then. We drink later."
"Yes, winner buys the wine," Hermione says, pointing at each of them. "Deal?"
Now Viktor smiles. Holds out his hand. "Deal. I—"
Bagman comes back inside, and Viktor's hand falls to his side as he turns and walks away to the side of the tent again. And Hermione can hear the crowd now. Hundreds of footsteps, excited conversations. Laughter.
Soon. It's soon. Out there all alone, with everyone watching.
She glances at Fleur. Really wants to hug her. Knows that she probably shouldn't.
"We'll be fine," Hermione whispers. "We're brave. We're champions. We were chosen for a reason."
Fleur just nods, turning faintly green she's so pale. Clammy.
Bagman comes back over. "Right! We'd better get started. I'll have to be quick, because I'm commentating. Miss Granger, how about youngest first?"
He holds out the sack.
Right. Okay. Colours. Which colour do you want?
She just reaches in. Feels around. Deftly pulls out…
"The Chinese Fireball!" Bagman announces. "Yes, there we are, there we are. And now you, Miss Delacour?"
Third. Hermione is last, a number three around the tiny dragon's neck. She was hoping she'd be able to get it out of the way, but…"
Fleur is second with the Welsh Green. And Viktor is going first.
With the Swedish Short Snout. No Hungarian Horntail this time. It must be a spare.
Unless Bellatrix…
She'd been planning on fighting a dragon. Is she just going to…demand a fight?
"Well, there we have it!" Bagman calls, already leaving. "Wait for the whistle, Viktor, and then you'll be out first. Good luck!"
And he's gone.
Viktor starts pacing around the tent. Maybe being first is worse than being last.
The time ticks on, and Hermione just concentrates on staying upright. Goes through her plan in her head over and over.
The whistle blows. Viktor heads straight for the entrance to the arena. Doesn't look back, even as Hermione smiles at him and—
Hermione suddenly has a face full of blonde hair and is being hugged tightly. Thank Merlin. She didn't want to be the first one, but she really needs a friend right now.
They hug for a long time. She can feel Fleur's heart beating wildly. Knows her own is doing the same. Under any other circumstances she would have pulled away by now, awkward and flustered. But she's too nervous. Needs the comfort. The familiarity. Fleur smells the same. The same as she always does, except no sea-lavender, sand, or salt.
No Shell Cottage yet.
Fleur starts muttering in French, too quickly and quietly for Hermione to understand anything. And then takes a breath. Steps back. "We can do this. I have a plan. Do…do you have a plan?"
Hermione smiles. "Yes. I have a few ideas."
Fleur searches her face. "Really? Because if you cannot think of one, I can tell you mine. Remember, you cannot stupefy them. They are too powerful because—"
"I know," Hermione interrupts. "And it's alright, I do have a plan. Thank you, though. What…so we're not rivals anymore?"
Fleur shrugs awkwardly, a smile pulling at her lips. "Of course we are rivals. It does not mean I want you to burn alive, or…"
She drifts off. The crowd outside is going wild. Viktor has the egg.
"See?" Hermione says. "It will be over before you know it. You have a plan. You can do it."
Fleur nods to herself. Turns towards the entrance and rolls her shoulders back. Flicks her hair behind her head and raises her chin.
The whistle blows.
"Bon courage," Hermione whispers.
And then Fleur is gone too, a deafening applause greeting her as she reaches the arena.
Hermione sits down on the ground. Her legs are too shaky.
She plucks at the grass. Pulls out a few longer blades by the roots.
How did Harry do this? He was fourteen and it had taken him all night to learn accio.
She takes out her wand. Feels the hum of magic. Transfigures the wooden stool in the corner into a cushion. And then a teapot. Then a pot plant.
"Ooh! That was close! Thought she was going to get it then!" comes Bagman's voice from the commentator's box.
Come on, Fleur. You can do it.
Hermione directs her wand at herself. Begins casting the imperturbable charm on her clothes. No-one said they couldn't. She knows she'll be facing a dragon, and she's only using her wand.
She really hopes it works on dragon—
The crowd erupts into cheers. Fleur did it. She's done it. Which means—
Hermione stumbles to her feet. Heads towards the door.
Ties her hair back. A last-minute decision, but probably sensible just in case her hair catches on fire.
Come on. Get this over with. You've fought in a war. You've been through worse.
But never alone…
The whistle blows.
She takes a breath, and opens the tent flap.
Continues past trees to the gap in the enclosure fence. Forces her feet forward as hundreds of faces look down at her.
The dragon is there. At the other side of the rocky arena. Crouched over a nest, just like in the Room of Requirement, and already roaring at the crowd. Blue.
She stops in the entrance, just inside some wards. Dumbledore. Yes, he must have added them to keep the spectators safe.
If only wards could be cast on people. But only bloodwards on a location really do that...
She takes a second to try to spot Harry or—
And then she's shoved from behind, hitting into a rocky wall and stumbling —
What—
But the dragon's over there! What was—
Gasps and shouts break out from the stands.
"Good Lord," Bagman's voice comes from the commentator box. "It can't be. It's—"
Bellatrix reaches down and pulls Hermione upright, brushing some curls out of her own eyes with a grin. "Sorry, Granger. You're going to have to wait a bit longer."
Bellatrix. And she looks like Bellatrix. She's dressed like Bellatrix. She—
She winks at Hermione, and walks out into the arena, arms held wide. Casts a sonorus. "Surprise! Sorry I'm late! Or early. Or…alive. Did you miss me?"
The dragon roars. Spreads it's wings and begins coming towards her, right at the edge of the nest.
Bellatrix laughs. Looks around the stands at the shocked, terrified, or confused expressions. Scanning through the crowd. "Everyone got their scorecards ready?"
And her eyes stop. Focus on someone. Hermione follows her gaze…
Harry.
And Bellatrix raises her wand at him. Right at Harry.
More wands draw. People get to their feet. Dumbledore. Harry. Ron. McGonagall. Crouch. Hermione begins to move forward, wand in hand and ready—
The dragon hisses out a warning, fire curling from its nostrils—
"Accio firebolt!" Bellatrix yells.
What?!
And Harry's firebolt comes soaring towards her. She—
She stole Harry's idea!
Bellatrix jumps to grab the broom and swings on, ducking a jet of fire and curving off around the arena.
"Uh, well I'm not really sure of the rules here," Bagman shouts confusedly as people stand up and sit down, murmuring and pointing. "This hasn't happened before in the history of the Triwizard— But look at her go! Bellatrix Black can fly!"
Hermione stays flattened against the nearest wall, not wanting to catch the dragon's attention, but she has to admit that…
Bellatrix spirals through the cloudy November sky, dodging in and out as the Chinese Fireball defends its nest. Flames shoot from its gaping mouth, but Bellatrix is too fast. Flying around and around and…
Her wand is drawn. But the sonorus has been cancelled. She's muttering something.
Hermione shivers. She can feel it. Magic. Bellatrix.
The fire stops. The dragon stills. Stays stock still, staring at Bellatrix.
Its wings fold in.
Bellatrix swoops down. Snatches the golden egg.
And shoots back up into the sky, a black figure getting smaller and smaller.
And away.
A heavy silence falls over the arena.
And then it's broken as the dragon begins to shriek in fury. Oh dear. Oh no. Oh—
Hermione casts a sonorus. "Am I still…is this my dragon? I think I might need another dragon, Headmaster!" she shouts, ducking behind a rock. "Or an egg?"
"Leave the arena, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore shouts back. "The whistle will call you when—"
"You are giving her more time?!" Madame Maxime shouts angrily. "She is at an advantage! She has more time to prepare!"
Advantage?! This is definitely a disadvantage!
Hermione tries to edge closer to the exit without the dragon spotting her, trying to keep her magic calm.
"We should halt the tournament altogether!" Karkaroff shouts. "We all saw who that was! She's alive! Free! We need to call the aurors!"
"And Miss Granger needs to compete, or risk losing her magic," Dumbledore says firmly. "Another dragon, please. Another egg. And back to the tent, Miss Granger."
Easier said than done! Where's the exit? She can feel the heat of the flames. The dragon is— there!
She jumps through the barrier. The shimmering protection ward at the gate. Dumbledore.
And sits in the grass for a second, catching her breath.
Okay. Maybe she should have worked on her fitness a bit more. That was more tiring than she'd expected.
Not that she'd expected any of this.
She gets to her feet. Brushes the mud off.
Takes one last look at the arena. The confusion. The chaos. The roaring dragon.
And heads back for the tent.
Right. See? Not so hard. Bellatrix got her egg in a few minutes flat. So just go back there, get on with it, and get your egg. You have a plan. And the dragon won't hurt you. Feel it.
She steps into the tent. Feels for her magic. The magic in the air. Feels out for…Hermione. Dumbledore. McGonagall. Harry…
Dragons. Feel it. Dragons. Hogwarts. Old, peaceful, long lasting magic.
Bellatrix?
No Bellatrix. Her magic has faded. Gone.
The whistle blows.
Hermione turns around. Returns to the arena.
The crowd is still buzzing. Still on edge. Restless.
And so is the dragon.
The Hungarian Horntail.
Hermione stops at the entrance. Outside the wards.
Hello, she thinks. I need to pass through.
Intent. Words.
She takes a slow breath. "Balderdash," she whispers. The password to the Common Room. Entry granted. Going home. Warmth. Safety. Friendship.
Imagines stepping through Platform Nine and Three Quarters…and moves forward.
"Protego totalum," she mutters. "Protego horribilis. Cave inimicum. Salvio hexia."
Not for herself. For the Horntail. The black dragon tensed and screeching before her. Safe. You're safe. I want you to be safe. "Protego mentes. Protego totus corpus."
"…Well, here goes our youngest champion," comes Bagman hesitantly. "She seems to be casting protection spells. An…interesting approach."
Hermione smiles. So he hasn't noticed who she's protecting.
Black. The black dragon. That's the colour she assigned. Feel it.
It feels…old. Ancient. Earthy and…hot. Molten.
She makes her way around the very edge of the arena. The edge of the territory. Remove she thinks. She needs to remove the golden egg. It isn't supposed to be here. It belongs in the water.
She casts a bubblehead charm. Remembers the water. Feels the lake. Imagines the golden egg in the lake.
The black dragon tracks her. Its magic ebbs and flows. She feels it. Surging and releasing with every fiery huff of breath.
It doesn't move from the nest though. And Hermione pauses with every torrent of fire. She understands. Understands the need to protect. This dragon is a mother. Is caring for her children.
Hermione casts a warming spell. Warmth. Protection. Just like she'd cast one on Luna, and Ron. Offered for Fleur. Protego mentes. Protego totus corpus. Cave inimicum.
And she edges closer. This wasn't the plan. She should have transfigured a rock by now. Into a horse. A clear enticement.
But no. She doesn't want to. Doesn't want to fool this creature. Ancient. Understands more about magic than any of them.
Hermione…feels out for the golden egg. It's magical. She tries to sense it. Water. Song.
"That one doesn't belong here," she whispers, looking up at the Horntail from the bottom of the nest. "Do you see? It's been taken. I want to take it back."
Rocks begin to fall and crumble under the dragon's scraping claws, pattering over the lip towards her. Restless. The dragon is restless.
Peace Hermione thinks. "It's almost over. You'll be home soon. Once I have that one. Let me take that one."
She climbs up the slight slope. Edges towards—
The dragon's head whips to face her. It screeches. Mouth wide and backing away—
Its tail swing around. Comes in her direction and—
Hermione quickly continues forwards. Closer, out of range of the spiked club at the end. Focuses on the hum of her magic, and remembers riding the Norwegian Ridgeback out of Gringotts. Flying free. Escaping. Letting it free. Peace. Flight. Escape.
And she ignores the rage. Ignores the possibility of fire and burning flesh. Ignores the crowd, and the people watching, and heads straight for the golden egg that's nestled amongst the others by the Horntail's feet. "Protego totalum," she whispers. "Protego horribilis." Casts a warming charm. A cheering charm. Mine, she thinks. This one is mine. It belongs with me.
Silence falls. Complete silence. All movement stills. A stadium of held breaths.
And…she reaches the egg. Touches it. Cold metal beneath her fingertips.
Picks it up.
Turns—
Meets the gaping maw of a dragon. Feels the tingle of magic in the air, and watches the spark catch at the back of its throat. Brings her arm up in front of her face, blood rushing in her ears and—
Is flying. Is soaring up into the air, feet dangling, her arm— arm—
Bellatrix swings her onto the back of the broom. "Are you fucking insane?! Granger! What the— That was a fucking dragon, Granger!"
Hermione squeezes her eyes shut as the world tips and blurs. Reaches out on instinct to cling onto Bellatrix, unable to steady herself properly with the egg still in her other hand, held to her chest. "I— I didn't—"
Bellatrix groans. "I have to leave. I have to hide. I wasn't counting on actually having to save you from burning to— You're not going to die. Just remember the arresto momentum, alright?"
Arresto— no!
But Bellatrix has already pried her fingers off of her, and tipped the broom upside down, giving Hermione a harsh shove.
Falling— just— she—
"Arresto momentum!" Hermione cries out.
And just in time. Hovers just inches above the heads of the gaping spectators.
Luna smiles up at her, head titled back. "Oh, hello Hermione."
The spell breaks. Hermione falls on top of her.
Ow.