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"A DANCE class? Really?" Hermione said astonished. "I hate dancing and you know it! Ever since the Yule Ball last Christmas I have despised anything that reminds me of it."
"You will love it once you get started, sweetie," her mum said, "I promise."
'Yeah because the horrible feelings of betrayal I get when dancing will suddenly go away,' she pondered to herself. 'Maybe if those two jerks I call my best friends hadn't gotten so angry at me for getting an actual date I wouldn't have such an aversion to it.'
She thought better of voicing her opinions and said, "Ok mum I will go. But if, and only if, you promise that if I don't like it after the first eight week course, you won't make me do it again."
"Yes! You won't regret it!" Jean Granger said hugging her unenthused daughter.
'Yeah' Hermione thought, 'just like I don't regret that abstract art class you made me take before I got my Hogwarts letter because that turned out so well.'
In truth, Hermione was just nervous about the prospect of not being asked to dance by anyone she could handle. What if the only person left was that pompous Cormac McLaggen or worse a Slytherin? She would be horrified if she was left with a Slytherin; she would have to figure out a way to avoid that at all costs.
Harry and Ron had avoided taking the class because Sirius and Mrs. Weasley thought that they deserved a break from being forced to do things that they did not want to do. After all, the golden trio had taken down Voldemort in that dreary graveyard at the end of the Triwizard Tournament.
When Cedric and Harry grabbed the portkey, Hermione was quick to assess who was probably trouble out of all the people with access to the prized Triwizard Cup. And after having issues with new Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers for the past four years, she started her assessment with Mad-Eye Moody.
*Flashback*
The auror was tough to crack, but within minutes Hermione knew she smelled polyjuice potion on his breath. After this horrifying revelation Snape was asked by Dumbledore to administer the illegal substance veritaserum in order to ascertain who the culprit was and where he had sent the boys. While Snape gathered the veritaserum, they quickly took away the impostor's wand, bound him, and whisked him past the anti-apparition wards so when the boys' location was revealed they could be there in seconds.
"What is your name?" bellowed Dumbledore.
"Barty Crouch," replied the DADA teacher.
"Impossible!"
"Junior."
A gasp echoed through the group followed by murmurs of incredulity.
"Where did you send the boys?"
"Little-Hangleton graveyard, but you'll be to late if you go there now. My Master will have arisen and slain those useless vermin by the time you can get there."
"Minerva, please lock Mr. Crouch in the basement and call the aurors. Call the rest of the Order and send them to the graveyard, please. We will return with both boys as soon as possible," said Dumbledore.
"Alright Albus," McGonagall replied, "but please be safe we all know sometimes you possess a little too much of the famed Gryffindor recklessness."
Dumbledore didn't even acknowledge the second part of her statement, but began giving orders to the Order members assembled nearby.
"Molly side-along apparate with Ron and Hermione. Arthur take the twins. Everyone have your wands drawn and ready when you land or you might be on the list of casualties for this day."
"But Professor," Hermione said, "what's the…"
And a pop of apparition sounded before she could finish her question.