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Hermione let out a sheepish laugh and said nothing.
Snape gave a cold snort. "The competition was supposed to begin days ago, but Sirius decided to storm into the school and cause an uproar."
Hermione blinked. "What did he come here for?"
A thin, mocking smile tugged at the corner of Snape's mouth.
"He claimed that the Headmaster of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff, is an unrepentant former Death Eater. Combined with the Prophecy you left behind — about the Dark Lord's imminent return — Black concluded that Karkaroff would use the Triwizard Tournament as cover to quietly dispose of Potter. A pledge of renewed loyalty, as it were."
"So," Snape continued, "he demanded we wait for your return. Otherwise, he would not allow Potter to participate. The Ministry of Magic and the Board of Governors went round and round with him, and none of them could make a dent. The mad dog wouldn't budge." He paused, voice flat with barely concealed irritation. "The entire Triwizard Tournament has been on hold until now. Because of your absence, and Black's interference."
---
The Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore sat at the head of the room, expression as serene as ever.
Across from him: the other two headmasters, Bartemius Crouch, Moody, and Sirius.
The moment Hermione walked through the door, Sirius visibly exhaled. A smile broke across his face and he crossed the room in quick strides. "Hermione! You're finally back!"
Ever since Hermione had exposed the truth about Wormtail and helped clear his name, she had become one of the very few people Sirius trusted without reservation.
Karkaroff's expression, by contrast, went dark the instant he saw her. Evidently, the "mad dog" had given him no shortage of grief during the delay, and Hermione's return seemed to make Black even less inclined to back down.
"I apologize, Headmaster Dumbledore. Everyone." Hermione walked to the center of the room and gave a slight bow. "Personal matters detained me. Thank you for your patience."
"Not at all, my dear." Dumbledore's smile didn't waver, though his eyes held a knowing gleam. "What matters is that you're here, and it isn't too late. Now that Miss Granger has returned, I believe we can officially begin the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Shall we proceed?"
Sirius nodded immediately. "Absolutely. With Hermione back, I'm satisfied."
Karkaroff's expression curdled, but he knew better than to make a scene. He gave a stiff nod. Madame Maxime and Crouch offered no objections.
And so the matter was settled.
---
Leaving the Headmaster's Office, Hermione rounded a corner in the corridor and stopped.
Two familiar figures.
Harry and Malfoy.
Standing close together, speaking in low voices.
Curiosity sparked. She lightened her footsteps and eased closer, keeping to the shadows.
Malfoy's voice, hushed but unmistakably smug: "...My father pulled some strings. He's already found out what the first task is. You have to steal a golden egg from a dragon's nest."
Harry frowned. "A dragon? Are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious!" Malfoy straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Potter, I'm telling you this for Hogwarts, not because we're friends. You're representing the school. You cannot lose to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons."
Harry was quiet for a moment. Then: "Thanks for telling me, Malfoy. I'll need to pass this along to Cedric."
"What?!" Malfoy stared at him. "Why would you tell him?!"
Harry looked genuinely puzzled by the question. "Cedric's a Hogwarts champion too. If only I know, that's not fair to the other champions."
"F-fair?"
Malfoy looked like he'd been hit over the head with something. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Stared at Harry's earnest face. Opened it again. Finally, he spluttered, "You... you are such a Gryffindor!"
Hermione pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
She stepped out from the shadows.
"Hermione!" Harry lit up.
"Granger?!" Malfoy stumbled backward, face going pale.
"Long time no see." She smiled at Harry, then let her gaze drift to Malfoy. Something playful settled in her eyes. "Malfoy. I'd like a word. Just the two of us."
Harry looked mildly puzzled, but nodded and moved off down the corridor.
His footsteps faded. The corridor fell quiet. Just the two of them.
Malfoy swallowed and tried to look like he wasn't nervous. "Granger. What do you w-want?"
Hermione didn't answer right away. She reached into her pocket and produced a small crystal vial. Inside, a mud-colored liquid sloshed against the glass.
She held it out.
"Drink it."
Malfoy stared at the vial. His face slowly went the color of old parchment. "What... what is that? Poison?"
"Poison?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What's going on in that head of yours? This is good for you."
She let a beat of silence pass, voice dropping just slightly. "You've always wanted to get along better with Harry, haven't you? Drink this, and I guarantee results. Immediate ones."
Malfoy looked at her. Looked at the vial. Looked back at her.
Was this witch genuinely being charitable?
"You're not tricking me?"
Hermione shrugged. "What would I gain from tricking you? Drink up."
Malfoy clenched his jaw, made his decision, snatched the vial, and tipped it back in one go.
There wasn't much point in resisting anyway. Better to drink it himself than have her pry his mouth open.
It didn't taste bad. Actually, it was almost sweet.
He smacked his lips. Nothing seemed unusual.
Then the bones across his entire body began to crackle.
He looked down. His hands were shrinking, growing slender, going pale, in real time, right in front of his eyes.
His Adam's apple vanished. He dropped an inch, maybe two.
And then his hair started to grow.
His short platinum-blond hair lengthened rapidly, going soft and luminous, pouring down past his shoulders and continuing until it brushed his waist.
He touched his face with shaking fingers. It was smooth. Delicate. The sharp angles he was used to had softened into something round and fine-boned.
"AHHHHH—!"
The shriek tore through the corridor.
Hermione looked at the figure before her and clapped her hands together. "Perfect."
There was no trace of Draco Malfoy left. Standing in front of her was a petite, flawlessly featured girl with a cascading sheet of dazzling platinum-blond hair.
"What did you do to me?!" Draco stared at Hermione, voice now thin and soft, cracking with the threat of tears.
"Nothing much," Hermione said cheerfully. "Just had you drink a bit of Polyjuice Potion."
At the words Polyjuice Potion, Draco, no, Dracora, let out a shaky breath of relief.
She knew Polyjuice Potion. You endured it. It wore off.
Then Hermione spoke again, and the relief evaporated completely.
"Oh, I forgot to mention." Hermione's smile was pure devil. "This isn't ordinary Polyjuice Potion. It's a special upgraded version I developed myself. Without my exclusive antidote, the effects are..." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well. Probably permanent."
"P-permanent?!"
Dracora's vision went dark. She grabbed the wall.
Hermione watched her horrified, tearful, utterly despairing expression with deep satisfaction.
"You always did have a thing for cute girls," she said pleasantly. "Consider it a gift. You're one now."
➤ Next: A Scene of Romantic Chaos
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