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So far... Hermione Portkeyed to the Peverell Retreat in search of Merlin's Blessing but then her name replaced Harry's in the Goblet of Fire. On the way to her first date with Ron in Hogsmeade, she sees him with Lavender Brown instead. Broken-hearted, she runs away, but after finding the body of another runaway who suffered much more than herself, she is shamed into returning, only to discover that Ron had been ensnared by a love potion. Now read on...
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Chapter 07
More Haste, Less Speed
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~~~ Flight of Fancy ~~~
There were a few moments immediately after Hermione awoke early on the day of the first task when she felt wonderful. A sparrow had perched close outside her dormitory and was chirping happily away; a timid sun had cast a window of light on the floor; her bedside rug looked warm and inviting for her bare feet. Yet ice gripped her heart as she swung out her legs, stood up, and remembrance of the occasion came to her thoughts. Today I might die.
If she felt terrible then, there was another shock awaiting her at the foot of the girls' stairs: Harry, and he looked dreadful. His face seemed gaunt and haggard; there were dark shadows under his eyes as if he'd been up all night.
"Harry?"
"Where have you—! Why did you—!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a corner, then, seeing the attention of several early Gryffindors, he led her out through the portrait hole and they walked the corridors.
"You can't do this Tournament thing, Hermione. You have to get out of it, somehow, no matter what. Anything is better than this."
"What have you found out?"
"Keep this to yourself, but Hagrid told me what the first task is. I spent all evening... I tried to reach you! None of the girls would go up and fetch you and I couldn't find Ginny!"
"What is it, Harry? The first task?"
"It's a dragon, Hermione! Hagrid showed me."
"Hagrid...?" Hermione's shoulders slumped enough for Harry's arm to swing around them in fear she might fall.
"I think Mad-eye gave Hagrid a nudge. Moody's rough but I think his heart is in the right place; maybe he thinks you have a chance of... well, getting through but I reckon you ought to quit and—" He broke off to look at Hermione's expression. "You okay?"
"I'm alright, honestly, but... a dragon?" She shook her head. "Of all the creatures I considered, I never gave any attention to dragons. And they weren't going to tell anyone until you have to fight it?"
"You don't have to fight it; you just have to steal one of its eggs."
Her eyes widened but her face could not go any paler. "But a brooding, protective mother is the most dangerous..."
He did not let go but guided her to a stone bench beside a statue. He warmed it with a charm before sitting them down.
"I've been in the library since eleven o'clock last night searching for—"
"You did what? How?" Her head cocked on one side as routine kicked in and she tried to orient her mind to their school schedule for yesterday and today. She shook her head. "What about your homework? What about sleep!"
Harry stared at her in disbelief. "To hell with that, we have to do something!
A couple of first year girls passed them, sniggering and staring at the infamous couple sitting so close together in the niche.
"I went to bed early and had a silly cry, Harry." She gestured at the backs of the youngsters as they watched them turn into the Gryffindor corridor, glancing back and still giggling. "Those two will be saying we were holding hands. They'll have us snogging by lunch, and married by teatime... I can't do this anymore, Harry; I can't keep facing this contempt and abuse and ridicule every day."
Having reached out impulsively, his embrace was tentative and awkward at first but once Hermione responded then he held her tight.
"I don't know what to do, Harry," she said. "It got on top of me yesterday but I have to face it day after day. One thing after another and... sometimes I wonder why I bother. I mean, I used to love this school, and I do still love magic, but honestly, there are times when—"
"Time, yes!" Harry pulled away. That's why I wanted to see you. We don't have much time, Hermione. We've only two hours before lessons start."
"Time for what? What about breakfast?"
"To prepare for the task of course. We can eat later." He took her hand and pulled her after him, walking briskly down towards the front entrance.
Hermione laughed dryly but she did not drag her heels. "There's no way to prepare, Harry, not for a dragon, not in a couple of hours — not even in a couple of months!" She looked at her watch. "The Task starts right after lunch."
Harry looked grim and remained silent. Hermione realised he was leading her towards the Quidditch Pitch.
"Are you sure about this, Harry?" she said doubtfully. "I don't see how they can hold a dragon on the pitch."
"No, the dragons are in an enclosure just inside the Forest." He stopped and pointed towards the Quidditch locker rooms building. Their side was covered by tall bushes but the roof was visible.
"I've put my Firebolt up on top. Summon it, Hermione."
"Now I know you're joking, Harry. "She smiled weakly. "I suppose this is for the dragon to pick its teeth after it's eaten me? Seriously, though Harry, it's your most precious possession and likely it'll get destroyed."
Harry's eyes bulged with incredulity. "Do you really think I give a rat's... tail about my stupid Firebolt! This is not about a bit of wood getting broken, it's about you getting hurt!"
His face seemed to crumple and he turned away as if to study the broom shed nearby.
She looked at him then in a new light, knowing full well how much he thought of Sirius's gift. Concern filled her eyes. "Harry, you're not... you know, going... erm... soft on me, are you? You know I can't return those feelings."
He whirled around. "Don't be silly, of course not! You know we're friends. Didn't you think a friend can care that much about you?"
Hastily, she added, "I was only joking, Harry. I know we're..."
Hermione was astonished by the strength of his affection and she looked away, feeling uncomfortable for him and rather puzzled. "Accio Firebolt."
The broomstick came readily to her hand but then reality struck home. "I can't fly for tuppence, Harry, remember? I feel giddy standing on a thin coat of paint let alone riding a wooden pole at a hundred feet. I'll never fly high, and definitely not dodge and weave and spin like you and—"
"You don't have to Hermione. It's just to give you a bit of speed. Keep low to the ground and use it instead of running to keep out the way. I mean, anything's better than actual running, right?" He paused. "You've got to be really, really careful, Hermione."
She looked closely at his expression. There were tears in his eyes. Hermione shook her head. "Harry, we're just friends."
He recoiled very slightly, changed his expression, then snapped, "Of course!"
She sighed then said, "Up!"
"She likes you," said Harry, when the Firebolt rose obediently to Hermine's grip. Hermione smiled nervously, secretly rather proud of herself and confident enough to swing a leg over.
"Now, try it low and slow, Hermione."
She gently pushed off, keeping the broomstick level but she was sitting a little too far back and the bristles brushed across the grass.
"Erm... a fraction higher would be good, Hermione."
"Actually, this feels more stable," she called back.
"Yes, but..." Harry had scurried after her and was now sprinting alongside. "you won't get the best speed with it dragging along."
They squabbled for a few minutes during which time Hermione compromised and roller-coastered along a few feet off the ground then down again to steady her wobbles. Eventually, Harry persuaded her to let him show her how to stabilise it better. She did not admit it but she was glad to step back on firm ground even after that short trip.
Harry stumbled when he mounted his broom and Hermione giggled which earned her an embarrassed glare from her friend. "This is serious, Hermione." She nodded and smothered her grin.
"You have to treat her with respect," he said earnestly. "Be friendly and she'll be friendly back." He leaned forward gently until he was almost lying along the shaft, coaxing the broomstick with whispers until it came smoothly around in a low circle.
Hermione blinked; she felt as if she were intruding on a private conversation. "Harry?"
He whispered some more and he circled again but this time banking slightly. "You see? She wants to be stable for you without any real effort."
Confound it if I'm going to talk to a wooden pole, thought Hermione. Anyone would think it was a horse! She laughed. "What's her name, Harry?"
He was startled out of his reverie and almost fell off. Abruptly, he shot up vertically — not before she saw he looked rather flustered. But by the time he had descended he seemed to have composed himself and handed over the Firebolt for Hermione to try again without any further mention of 'spooky broom-whispering' as a relieved Hermione thought of it.
They practised sweeping around and between the shed and the changing rooms block. There was nothing much to it, not even for Hermione Granger who had scarcely sat on a broomstick since her first year, but Harry kept coaxing her to keep training for another half-hour before he was satisfied.
"You don't need to go higher than three or four feet if that's what makes you feel safe but you're still dragging along the ground sometimes, Hermione. It's just nerves." Seeing her expression he added hastily, "But you're improving! With practice you'll be fine. You see, a broom's an advantage even at the most elementary level. to help you race across the ground."
She nodded but looked sceptical.
"There's another thing. I know it's not much but I found this spell—"
"Oh, I've got one too," said Hermione. "A silly old thing I learnt in first year that I'd almost forgotten."
"Erm... tell me yours first, then." He hoped it wasn't the same one he'd spent hours searching for in the stack of books he'd acquired from the library.
"It's only the Repellere shield charm. Wizards sometimes used it to fend off goblin arrows and Muggle attacks — easier and longer-lasting than a shield charm for physical things like that. It doesn't stop spells so nobody really remembers it anymore." She looked disappointed in Harry's apparent lack of enthusiasm. "Well, I th- thought it might deflect a swish of the beast's tail, or being stomped on... I mean, it can't do any harm can it if I charm myself first? It won't stop dragon fire, of course..." she tailed off lamely.
"Ah, well, mine does — for a short time anyway."
Seeing her eyes light up with hope, he added hastily, "It'll only last a few seconds of the most intense heat but at least you can use it repeatedly."
"Not during the same..." She tailed off but Harry knew what she meant. A dragon would not extinguish its long flaming blast while it waited for her to wave her puny wand again. She saw the disappointment in his eyes and felt rather ungrateful. "It'll be jolly useful actually. It will give me a couple of seconds to get to cover on your trusty steed — there will be cover, won't there, Harry?"
"Erm..."
"Show me the spell, Harry."
He slung the Firebolt back up on the roof and gave Hermione a meaningful nod and she nodded back. "Yes, I won't forget the broomstick, I promise you."
He took out his wand. "There's no special movement. Just point it at yourself like so. The incantation is... Protego Ex Incendio!"
Hermione looked dubious. "I don't see any difference."
"Well, no. I mean, it's..."
"How do you know if it works?"
"The book says that Dragon herders and researchers use it all the time. I bet Charlie Weasley would know it."
"How do you know when it ends?"
"Erm... well it lasts two or three seconds according to the book."
"Test it on me," she said.
"What?"
"Cast fire on me. I'll try to protect myself."
"No way! Are you bonkers? I'm not shooting flames at you, Hermione. Forget it." He stomped left and right a few times agitatedly.
"So you don't trust the protection spell?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"Then prove it."
"You do it on me," said Harry.
Hermione sighed. "Just my little finger then. Surely you can't be worried about one tiny little finger?"
Harry grimaced. "I worry about every little bit of you, Hermione. I just can't."
"Oh well, I'll have to do both then." She walked towards the bushes that stood outside the locker rooms and ignited a small branch. Harry could see what she intended and he ran forward to cut her off with his wand aimed at himself.
"Protego Ex Incendio!"
He thrust his arm into the flames. "See?" After a few short moments he pulled away abruptly with a sharp yelp; the sleeve was singed. "About three seconds, I reckon. Maybe four or five for you because your casting is usually stronger than mine for charms."
She nodded doubtfully.
There was silence between them for a while as they walked towards the Forest's edge. Neither of them noticed that behind them were three figures in Slytherin green slinking along by the locker rooms and looking up with great interest at the roof where the Firebolt lay...
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~~~ Pitch Inspection ~~~
Harry was silent and thoughtful as they approached the edge of the Forest. "What was that all about?"
"What was WHAT all about?" she frowned.
"Did you really think I fancied you or something?"
"No, I told you I was joking."
"I mean, we get that from everyone else; I don't want it from you as well. Why spoil it? We're friends, right?"
"Of course we are."
"Well then."
She didn't answer.
"I mean, you're more like a sister than anything, that's the nearest I can describe it. You have to understand that, Hermione. You do, don't you?"
Again there was no response.
"Well then," he said, as if that settled it.
A high canvas wall could be seen through the treeline as they neared.
"So why do you keep going on about it then?" She ran ahead to escape his answer.
"Me? You were the one who—" He stopped and looked after her before running to catch up. Surely she believes me?
As they walked around looking for the entrance he struggled to understand what she was thinking. She MUST be made to understand I could no more fancy her than my own mother! A sense of desperate urgency seized him, and a panic. Her life would be at risk this afternoon and he couldn't bear it if... "Look, Ron was a bit of a prat but he was fun company. You're more..."
"So you don't like my company?"
"No! I didn't say that! But you're always... I mean... you don't—"
There was noise like distant thunder rumbling.
"Harry, did you feel the ground..."
"... kind of shaking?" he finished for her. "Best we put on the invisibility cloak."
They moved together and he wrapped the cloak around them, both immediately feeling very self-conscious. Harry didn't know why but he began to feel more and more irritable — as if something precious had been broken.
"Why'd you have to say that, Hermione!"
"I told you I was joking! Stop making a big fuss about it. Just forget about it, alright?"
"I mean, we were okay together before. I valued your friendship. Now you've got this silly notion — and it's not true! I mean, it's really not true! And stop wriggling against me!"
"What's up with you! I haven't got any such notion! Why are you so angry! I'm not wriggling! It's you that's pushing against me and anyway, we're getting older and the cloak's not getting any bigger is it!"
"I can't help it, can I!"
"Well it would help if you stop being a baby and put your arm around me instead of trying to fit in beside me! You never had a problem before — brother!!"
"Yeah, well now you'll probably think it means something when it doesn't!"
"No, I won't."
"So we're quite clear then? It doesn't mean anything!"
"I know it doesn't but—!"
Hermione stopped speaking and stared. They had found the entrance. An enormous pit of hewn rock and scattered boulders stretched away below them but it was empty of anything living. The surround consisted of tiers of simple bench seating.
"They must be holding the dragons beyond this somewhere. This looks like an arena," said Harry. Something within him wanted to carry on his huffiness but the majestic size of the stadium diverted him into awe. He tried to move forward to see better but was held back. He turned to the trembling girl under the cloak beside him.
"Hermione?"
She was biting her lip and seemed frozen to the spot.
"Hermione?" he repeated.
"I can't do it," she whimpered.
"Exactly. That's what I said earlier. That's settled then."
Harry shoulders seemed relieved of a great weight and she realised for the first time how severely tense and stressed he had been ever since she had met up with him in the common room. He let out a long breath of air and his face relaxed into a smile.
Does he remember the full implications of defaulting? she thought, then explained aloud, "I'll lose my magic and... have to leave Hogwarts, you know that."
"Me too."
"What?"
"Hermione, I'm sick of it all. Ron will be okay but I don't see how he and I can ever be really close friends again, and I hate how everyone else treats you. Every day is miserable. If you left Hogwarts then there's nothing here for me at all."
She flung both her arms around him then and squeezed tight. The cloak slipped to the floor but she no longer cared who might see them — they were friends!
After a long while he pushed her gently away. "You're not...? With me?"
"NO!" she cried.
"Right then. We're just friends, right?" Harry felt more and more confused and upset. A tight knot of fear had clutched itself inside his stomach because he didn't know how to tell Hermione he was desperately afraid for her without her misunderstanding.
"RIGHT!" Hermione felt sick inside. Harry mustn't leave Hogwarts on my account — that would be too awful! "So DON'T do anything so STUPID as LEAVING!"
No need to shout at me!" he snapped.
"I'M NOT SHOUTING!" She cried tearfully, hitting him with a flurry of slaps and punches around his shoulders and chest. "Just go away, Harry. I want to... I want to... think about this place... a bit more..."
"What for? Didn't we just agree we're both leaving Hogwarts right?"
"JUST GO! I DON'T WANT TO BE WITH YOU ANYMORE!"
Harry was taken aback. He snatched up his cloak and turned away, heading for the exit, feeling utterly rejected. Hermione had changed, he felt sure. The one great friendship in his life with someone special but now she wasn't that. Why? Was it the stress and fear of the Tournament? Perhaps it was having been condemned and hated by most of her peers. He knew all about that. Ron had isolated himself from both of them. Lucky Ron. He would not be hurt if anything happened to...
He was half way to the castle when he noticed Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle ahead of him walking in the same direction. Why aren't they at breakfast in the Great Hall? He slowed his pace, not being in the mood for an encounter. They know nothing about real friendship.
An astonishing thought struck him and he stopped, turned. Real friendship! He sprinted quickly back towards the Tournament enclosure. He would not be hurt if anything happened... not Ron — me! He understood now why she had driven him away. She's trying to distance us so I won't be so hurt.
"Hermione! Hermione!" He gazed around the amphitheatre. But Hermione Granger was gone.
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~~~ A Shocking Discovery ~~~
Hermione had wiped her eyes and watched as Harry walked sadly away. It broke her heart but her prospects were already destroyed. Still, she would end it all with dignity, she told herself. Hermione lifted her chin and surveyed the arena. If she was to make the best of a bad situation she would need better information.
The descent into the pit was difficult and she considered summoning Harry's broomstick but wanted no connection with him for a while — it hurt too much. Eventually she found herself wandering between its rocks trying to assess their positions and the general layout. When she reached the far side she sank down to sit on a low slab and shrugged her shoulders. There was clearly no way of judging where a dragon might lie and no way of preparing for the afternoon unless...
Such a risk would have been unthinkable if she not been so upset and so bereft of hope for her future life. The Time-turner span forward just as easily as it had backwards. Eight times took her forward to her fate. Eight times revealed the same spot where she crouched concealed behind one of the largest of the great stone blocks.
The stink of stale smoke and scorched earth hit the back of her throat. She peered out. It was strange, she thought, apart from the smells and the sun being in a different part of the sky and hidden by cloud, all looked the same. There were no spectators, no dragon, no... Then she saw them. A group of witches and wizards at the far side of the pit where another exit could be seen. She flinched back but quickly realised they were leaving. Of course! The Tournament had simply finished rather earlier than expected. It was odd though, that the spectators had departed so rapidly...
She looked again. One of the wizards was young — rather like Harry — yes, it was him, she decided. His expression was very mournful. With three others he was carrying something between them and Dumbledore and McGonagall were there too, leading the way out. This was her chance!
As soon as they were out of sight she cast a revealing spell to confirm the place was empty then began a thorough investigation. She had already espied something that glittered and quickly confirmed they were several chains with enormous iron links each as long as her arm bolted into the solid rock. The litter made it clear that this must be where each dragon would be held. Of course! The dragons would be tethered! How silly she thought herself now to have imagined the Headmaster would allow them to roam or even fly freely about.
Up above and behind this area was a raised platform. It was clear it had been used for the organisers: Bagman no doubt giving the commentary from here and — naturally! Dumbledore would be close to the action ready to prevent any serious mishap.
There were remnants of what could be a crude nest — rough dirt clawed around in a circular depression. Hermione visualised how the beast would have been lying down. The nearest large rock was thirty strides away. She paced it out. It might be possible to reach the eggs on the Firebolt. She closed her eyes, visualising how she much time she might have to dash close to the eggs. Two seconds before the beast saw her coming and responded. Two more to reach the nest — but how to return to safety before the spell ended its fire protection? And how could she even get to that nearest rock in the first place?
Again she paced out the distance from that last rock to the tall boulder that preceded it. She could see tracks where contestants had ran from cover to cover. How had they survived? Had Cedric Diggory known beforehand what he would face? Otherwise, it was hard to see how he...
She sagged to the ground and her mouth fell open in shock. Before her, against the side and partly behind the great rock that would be nearest the beast, the earth was dreadfully scorched. Worse, it was blackened and she could pick out Diggory's human shape in the worst of it: there his leg would have laid, the ground still grooved where his foot had kicked out its last agony; the blackened mark where his head had laid further on behind the rock; and the long dark scorch where his arm had reached out to safety one second away. He had almost made it. Behind this death mark was a trail through the rocky soil where he had, perhaps, dragged an injured leg. Had that been his downfall? Had they not allowed him to quit even though he had a broken leg!
Hermione was too appalled to move for many minutes. The reality was sinking in. This was not an historical account in a dusty old homework tome — it was writ in the bloody earth in front of her. She approached the deathly spot, feeling apprehensive, willing herself forward in the name of research just as surely as if she were in the library.
Another scuffed depression further on behind the rock drew her attention. Had that been where she herself had crouched? Had she bettered Diggory? Could it be possible she had... She walked beyond the disturbed area and reviewed again the distance to the dragon's nest. Had she done it? What of the others? What of Fleur and Krum? How did she know this imprint was her own? Or the... She turned back to the scorched earth, took a closer look, then sank down, crawling with horror.
The dragon's victim had not been as tall as Diggory — nor Krum, that much was obvious, but neither was it Fleur's height. It could only have been herself who had died here.
Hermione leaned back against the rock face. She wept softly for her other self and the valiant attempt as if it were someone else who had made this effort in the past instead of the future she herself would have to face this afternoon. The dirt she scooped up and let trickle back was to be where she would — no, had died. It had already happened and would happen and could not be undone. She descended down through despair into numbness.
It was many minutes before she could collect herself and rise up again to stand on her own death spot. The trail dragged through the loose stones hadn't been caused by Cedric's leg — it must have been scraped by the tail end of the Firebolt. Had she been too nervous and flew too low? She made a mental note: she must NOT be tempted to fly high to compensate or reality might be changed and catastrophe ensue. She MUST die. Her broomstick had dragged; that was an unchangeable fact she must adhere to.
Up she looked to the stands. Had they cheered when she died? What would Bagman have announced? Oh, what rotten luck! Still, serve her right for putting her name in the Goblet! Then a great roar of approval would go up from the crowd?
And what of Dumbledore! What of his promise? Why had he not...? Hermione's gaze turned to the dignitaries' platform but she had to step out from the rock to see it properly...
It took her only a couple of minutes to ascend up to the balcony. A dented cone megaphone — it looked like the one used for Quidditch — still lay at the foot of the announcer's chair where it must have fallen when her death was witnessed. At the back would have been Mr Crouch from the Ministry. It was clear the front central seat much have been Dumbledore's; from there he would have the best view and the best hope of helping anyone in distress. Had he been distracted? How could he not have noticed the conflagration down there?
She spun around and looked down over the railing towards the side of that final big rock. The blackened earth was visible but her own momentum had hurtled her forward. She had almost made it behind the stone! Dumbledore would have stunned or bound the dragon first to stop the flaming breath instantly, but, partly-obscured as she had been by the rock from this vantage, he would have been unable to see her well enough to douse her already-burning body, nor could he reach her in time to prevent her being utterly consumed by fire. The rock itself had been her downfall!
Seeing the place where she must inevitably die produced a hollowness rising up within her. Life was over and all of her young years now lacked any purpose. Her search to fully comprehend Merlin's Blessing had been fruitless; there was no more time and nowhere left to go. She prayed for Harry — that he might find a friend to replace her, someone who would watch his back and care about him as single-mindedly as she had. Finally, weary of grieving for herself, she spun back the Time-turner; it was crucial that she live out her final hours as normal and meet her end with dignity. Not to do so could produce an unpredictable catastrophe in Time itself. She reached towards the chain at her throat.
Hermione turned the tiny hourglass back, making adjustments so she didn't run into her earlier self or Harry. As the hazy colour-shapes whirled past her, she held out her arms as if to drink in the blurring arena; to embrace the reality that would soon be lost to her. Flames flashed briefly, and a great eye on a huge scaly head blinked by, a thousand faces danced around her accompanying by a dull, averaged, monotone roar of sound then, abruptly, gravity returned, the ground pressed upon the soles of her feet once more, and she stifled a cry of astonishment.
What Hermione perceived as she came to rest shocked her to the core like nothing she had ever seen before — even more than seeing her own deathbed. In that moment she knew there was much more to do before she died and she must not fail if she was to secure Harry's survival. She contemplated for a long time, that which faced her. Yes, yes, it was the only way! It has already happened! But... Her thinking tore her apart. Nearly an hour passed before she resigned herself to all the things she would have to do — what she must do!
Think, think! Filch had told Fudge he'd seen her sneak out to Hogsmeade early the previous weekend — that event had already taken place so she must fulfil it or there would be discord in Time. Next, it was vital that she return to the last few months of James's life because, she now realised, there was evidence that she already had done so. Not to perform it would cause a terrible rift in Time. Yet how to avoid interaction and disastrous changes? And worse, far, far worse, eventually she had to go way back to April, 1912 to speak to Galfrid Potter on board the great ship Titanic. That meeting was recorded on the page she had copied from the Peverell Library biography and must not be undone — though how she was supposed to survive the infamous sinking of that vessel she had no idea.
How bitterly she now regretted having made a duplicate of the Time-turner! The ensuing complications and possible calamities were all inconceivable, unbelievable, but she now knew what had taken place already and there was no choice but to fulfil that destiny or risk tearing away the very fabric of Time itself. If only Crookshanks had not found that scrap of litter on the train last summer, none of this would have come to pass!
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~~~ Finding the Past ~~~
When Hermione Portkeyed to the Peverell Retreat, she took utmost care to hide behind the desk in the study. Diligently, she calculated the hours that would place her at a time when she was least likely to be seen — in the middle of the night. Then, with shaking hands she cast a spell to spin back the Time-turner thousands of rotations to the summer of 1981...
To say that she startled James was an understatement! He almost fell of his chair where he was seated at the very desk she had hoped would conceal her. Papers flew everywhere as he scrabbled, yelling in alarm, to find his wand. Finally remembering, he made a dash for the open doorway of the potions room, cursing himself for not being more prepared against intruders.
Hermione herself had tumbled over backwards in astonishment, but at least she then had the presence of mind to spin the Time-turner onwards twelve hours before cautiously standing up and looking around. All was quiet but she remained alert, slipping out to the entrance hall to check the local time. The grandfather clock showed it was three o'clock and the skylights above were spangled with starlight — it must have been afternoon when she shocked James. Just how inaccurate had the Time-turner been? Was she even on the right day? The right year? There was no way of telling. She dare not even seek out the ghosts for fear of changing the future.
The only safe place, she decided in a panic, was the potions room itself — neither of the ghosts had ever been seen to enter there, and probably had no reason to unless asked. Hurrying, she returned to the study. The door to the potions room was closed. Carefully she opened the door...
A blasting curse from within hit her in the shoulder but without effect — the door crashed away past her onto the study floor with a tremendous BANG. The furious red-haired woman who ran at her could only be a mother protecting her offspring — Lily!
"OUT! OUT!" the woman screamed, thrusting her wand like a dagger ahead of her charge as Hermione staggered back in fright.
Hermione had one glimpse of a wild-eyed James behind Lily hastily slamming shut his log book with one hand while clutching a crying baby in the other before she spun the Time-turner backwards a full day.
Still shaking, she checked her body for injuries but found herself unharmed — and she thought she had some idea why. There was evidence that the defective Time-turner was not moving all of her evenly through time. Like an after-image, aspects of her physicality were taking minutes to catch up after travelling through time. It was a strange concept but it explained much that she was experiencing. She could touch surfaces but she herself lacked substance for a short time.
What a mess she had made of everything, she told herself, breathing a sigh of resignation. She should have realised James and Lily would have been prepared for the return of an intruder. It must have been something extremely important that had brought them here with Harry in the middle of the night after James's earlier scare. She MUST keep out of sight in future! The door was still intact. Slowly she approached it once more...
"Ah, THERE you are!" cried a voice from behind her.
"Aaah!" Hermione's heart leapt a third time as she stumbled around to see... it was Lord Cautius who had called out as he entered.
"No, don't, Miss Granger!" he hastily added as Hermione reached once more for the Time-turner. Following him was the Lady Candria.
"You know me?" Hermione frowned, trying to think how that could be possible if this really was 1981.
A parchment was flapping in the air behind Candria. "We doth know much of thee — more than thou dost thyself mayhap."
"How? Who told you about me?"
Lady Candria smiled. " 'Twas thyself that didst us inform."
The parchment burst into flames and the ashes drifted towards the glowing coals in the fireplace of which Hermione only then became aware. She wrinkled up her brow again. "Isn't this summer? It should be. What is the time and date?"
"It is three in the morning of October the 27th, 1981," said Lord Cautius. watching her reaction carefully.
Hermione's body instinctively jerked towards the potions room where she had last seen the doomed family, then she stopped herself. No, I can't tell them and I must not save them, she thought sadly.
"Are they... the Potters, are they still here? Rather, I mean..."
"Still? Nobody has been here for a while," said Cautius. "James was here about ten days ago — all of them the week before that."
"All?"
Candria smiled. "Never doth Mistress Lily leave young Harry behind in this sad age. I bear hope of being entrusted with his instruction two years hence — the boy is wonderfully inquisitive. But e'er now, they do keep him close."
She doesn't know! I won't have told them that James and Lily will die in a few days time, and Harry... Harry will never come here again...
Aloud, she said, "Then they have another Portkey, don't they?" and Candria lowered her head in agreement. She looked to Cautius as if for his approval, and he nodded.
Hermione said. "May I... am I allowed to use the potions room? In this time, I mean?"
"Yes, you have been given permission."
"From Lady Potter?" smiled Hermione.
"Thou does know of her?" Lady Candria appeared astonished and Cautius frowned with puzzlement.
Hermione continued, "She's Deidre, isn't she — James's grandmother. Yes, I looked it up. And yes, I do know exactly who she is and... how she became a spectre."
Both ghosts shook their heads as if shocked at the young girl's knowledge.
"But thou ought not... how didst thou—?" began Candria.
"Enough! There is no reward in knowing too much," said Cautius. "We must attend our instructions."
There was a gleam in Hermione's eyes. "This is why you were — I mean, will be — so secretive, isn't it! I told you in that message what to say, didn't I? And to be careful not to say anything that would cause a conflict in Time?"
" 'Tis so, my Lady," said Candria, but again she had looked to Cautius before she spoke.
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~~~ The Benediction Code ~~~
Despite their reassurance, Hermione was still edgy after her several scares so proceeded into the potions room with a finger on the Time-turner held before her like a shield, only relaxing when she could see the chamber was empty. She closed the door behind her and leaned back on it, feeling a little weak from all the draining events of recent days. Only now had she time and privacy to contemplate the experience of being in 1981.
Right this moment, both Harry and I are still babies with our parents! A bitter smile of regret shadowed across her face as she tried to recapture the memory of that brief glimpse of her friend. Poor Harry... poor baby... She shook her head as if to scatter the sorrow from her mind. Her head hurt but she had to press on and complete the task that fate seemed to have assigned her. Reality was always more poignant than reading an historical account of tragedy.
She sighed and went across to the workbench. Why had James so hurriedly closed his book when he saw her? It was open now, and laying across the upmost potion recipe was a folded sheet of parchment. Trembling with excitement, she opened it up and began to read the rough note at the top:
. 14. — D complete. T acceptable. M is excellent. Steep 9 H at least one more week then enough base for 3. try brass, pewter, phosphor bronze for Ty's c.
Below that was were listed runes as well as the missing ingredient codes! Hermione's eyes blazed wide and the parchment shook as she realised the importance of what she held in her hand. . 14 can only be Merlin's Benediction — James's fourteenth attempt!
"So it IS a potion!" she cried aloud, joyful, at her discovery.
She stood there for a while as her smile gradually faded. Yet it must have failed for they were murdered soon after... some blessing, mused Hermione.
Again and again she re-read the parchment. What had gone wrong? Only a day or two from now, James will instead be attempting to create the less-useful guardian charm on the bookmark. It must have broken his heart to know he had not yet been able to produce the powerful Merlin's Blessing for his loved ones.
So, what chance do I have?
The runes she found scratched on the cauldron itself. This application of the mystic characters was new to her but she studied them and nodded as she began to appreciate the way they cycled neatly around the bowl, forming several sequences depending from where one commenced reading them. At least they were simple and made sensible progressions, even though just how their enchantment affected the potion preparation was likely lost to history.
The metal alloys puzzled her though; to the best of her knowledge, none of those would combine with the other ingredients — nor were they listed amongst them. Metal components were normally salts, sulphates, and so on, not pure alloys. What then? She stared at the clutter on the worktop but the solution eluded her. There were the vials and canisters of ingredient ready for use together with a good supply of clean goblets and cannikins. She recognised the strands of silverweed soaking in a small bowl — yes, that was Ingredient H in the code list he had been waiting for, but that was ten days ago so it must be ready now! All that remained was the alloy, but what was it?
She could not return to her own time without the answer: the first task of the Tournament awaited her. The recollection added ever more pressure to her worried mind.
Without warning, headache and nausea and a great weariness swept over her. Feeling very frail and sickly, she found a stool to sit upon. The continuing stress and fear of the last few weeks were taking their toll. Pepperup Potion would take too long to prepare and she had never done it before. A calming draught would have to suffice.
The ingredients needed little preparation and no heating. She filtered the bowl into a goblet from the bench and, as recommended, sipped it very slowly. As her insides began to relax she gazed blankly at the division markers on the inside of the little goblet: 4 drams, 3 drams, 2 drams... nausea was replaced by a pleasurable wooziness. The 1 dram demarcation gleamed like gold and a bright idea flashed into her mind.
"Brass?" She jerked up to her feet, spilling the final dram but not caring. "This goblet is made of brass!"
She examined the other receptacles — a few were pewter and some had a reddish-orange sheen she assumed was phosphor bronze. The drinking containers were meant to form part of the Blessing potion! This was unheard of, Hermione felt sure.
And then, as if a light turned on in her mind, she knew: Merlin's Blessing must originally have included a real, physical cup and James neither had it, nor knew of what it was composed. He was guessing, trying different materials in the hope he would get lucky. But then how could he have known? How could anyone know?
Someone must have, someone right here in this Retreat, she told herself, or how had James discovered anything about Merlin's Blessing at all?
She frowned at James's parchment. What had she missed? Either she must use the Time-turner to travel the centuries or... ask someone who already has!
Hermione sprinted from the room and dashed breathlessly into the library.
"Lady Candria! Lady Candria!"
The young ghost was dozing in her seat but came awake with a start. Hermione thrust the parchment before her.
"See — Ty's c — is that your brother Tybalt? Did he have a special cup, do you know? Did James not ever ask you?"
Candria blinked herself slowly awake. "Wast so agreeably I didst dream..." she murmured. "What is't? Tybalt thou sayest? No, James ne'er knew Tybalt wast my kin. Let me see..."
The parchment sprang from Hermione's hand and floated before the sleepy ghost. "Oh, that... 'tis a little chalice — unsafe methinks he did caution. ... didst hide ... in a little closet..." She drifted down into her slumbers again and Hermione caught the parchment as it fell.
If Hermione had possessed eyes in the back of her head as she raced back to the potions room, then she might have noticed Candria cock one bright ghostly eye open and give a little smile...
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~~~ Merlin's Cup ~~~
The cabinet, Hermione knew well, for it was the one hanging at an angle above the bucket of vials all these years.
" 'unsafe to use' — but you never meant the cupboard, did you, Tybalt? You were warning people away from its contents," she muttered as she cast her own spell upon it:
"Finite!"
There it was; hidden for centuries by a concealment spell that even James had not noticed amongst the many other charms. Almost afraid to touch it, Hermione gazed in wonder upon the spectacular relic that she knew wizards had sought down the ages. Merlin's Cup was a very small but exquisitely-shaped chalice with elaborate, decorative swirls of various metals both around and within the bowl. What these materials were, Hermione could not guess, and all of James's simple alloy trials could never have approached this complexity. To duplicate the combinations precisely would be considerably difficult if not impossible, even if one had the cup to copy. Together, they formed the exact supplements needed to complete the potion — Merlin's Blessing — of that, Hermione was now sure.
Once it was lifted out into the candlelight, the vessel glinted mysteriously. Had Merlin himself held this delightful artifact? For a long while, Hermione gazed at the cup, caressing it like a wonderful book, sensing the enormity of history between her fingers, her cares forgotten.
"By Merlin!" She knew now the power of the oath she had never before used, how the man had influenced wizardkind for so long. Merlin's Cup practically groaned with the weight of magic that bewitched it — for only such overwhelming sorcery could change the course of someone's entire life for the better.
Harry...
Hermione pushed the cup deeply into her bag and set to work. James had gathered together an abundance of the necessary ingredients, and would not miss a good proportion of them. The silverweed felt supple and fit for use. She lit the tinder beneath the cauldron and began to measure out the proportions according to James's list.
An hour passed in which she dare not omit or add a single stir beyond his instruction and was rewarded with a vivid ultramarine spirit that smelt of life, adventure, and exciting possibilities. She bottled and corked it then placed it handily in the top of her bag before preparing to leave.
After tidying up and restoring everything to the positions in which James and Lily would remember them, she cast one last look around then calculating fresh adjustments for the inaccuracy of the device, she spun the Time-turner forward to return to her own natural time... to Harry's time... to breakfast time!
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~~~ A Movement In Magic ~~~
When Harry Potter returned from the arena, he was still stinging from Hermione's words of rejection as well as worried about her disappearance. Was she upset because of him or by fear of the coming task? There was enough time remaining for a quick breakfast before lessons began but he was in for a surprise when he entered the Great Hall.
"Hermione!" he hissed quietly as he slipped into a seat beside her. "What's going on? Why'd you come back without me?" He grabbed for some toast and began scraping it thickly with butter.
"Harry, I found it!" whispered Hermione. She had, as usual, chosen a place at the table away from the other Gryffindors, yet to Harry, she appeared especially furtive. She glanced left and right then mouthed, "Merlin's Blessing!"
"I know, you told me," frowned Harry, still slightly grumpy that she had forsaken him earlier. He took a big bite of toast, washing it down quickly with a swig of hot tea.
"No, no, not that — that was a different spell. I mean—"
"Different?" he munched.
"Listen, I made a mistake — that was a guardian spell your dad discovered as well. No, I found the real—"
Harry finished his slice and grabbed at a crunchy bacon sandwich.
"Harry, will you please pay attention! This is important!"
"Sorry — go on." He chewed rapidly on the food, scrutinising her expression thoughtfully.
"There won't be many opportunities this morning. You have to..." — she opened her bag and angled it towards him — "drink this potion while you still can. I believe it will bless you and keep you from harm."
"Me? What about you? You're the one in the Tournament."
Hermione sighed. "Harry, you're not seeing the big picture. Voldemort has already tried to kill you several times and every year something horrible happens to you. This is a chance to turn that around. This is really powerful magic, Harry. It can help you."
Harry shook his head, tugging with his jaws at another bite of bacon. "Only if you do as well."
She nibbled at her lower lip worriedly then mumbled as if she didn't want him to hear, "There was only enough for one; I daren't take any more ingredients or they'd have been missed."
He stopped munching, swallowed, and stared at her. "Then no, I won't drink it, Hermione!"
"If you only knew the trouble I've taken to bring this to you," she moaned.
"Where'd you get the ingredients, anyway? When did you mix it? You've not had time. How'd you know it's Merlin's recipe?"
"Please trust me, Harry. I promise I'll explain everything later. Oh, please say you'll drink it."
"No, I won't. Your need is greater than mine."
Hermione let out a long soft groan. What if this secret dies with me? It could happen no matter how carefully I've prepared.
"Hermione?" He could see how stressed she was.
"Ooh, Harry, I hate to do this ..." She hesitated, still fighting with the doubts in her head. "...but there's no time left ... Confundus."
She had murmured the charm and kept her wand low. Harry's expression had gone blank. He stopped chewing, staring through her to nowhere.
Oh, no... what am I doing...? I'm awful... she murmured to herself. She came to a decision and braced herself: it was all or nothing now. "Carry on eating, Harry, act natural."
"Act natural..." he repeated mechanically, taking in the last bite of his sandwich and licking his fingers.
A few students were rising and beginning to leave; breakfast was almost over.
Hermione dug out Merlin's cup from the bottom of her bag and placed it carefully between their two tea mugs to obscure the tiny vessel as much as possible. Even so, she could not help but think she was being watched as she poured the contents of the vial into the enchanted chalice. She looked up. Professor Babbling was gazing directly at her.
"Don't let your tea get cold, Harry," said Hermione, hurriedly.
"I should finish my tea," he said flatly and reached out for his mug.
"No, it's this chalice, Harry."
"Yes, it's this chalice."
Harry Potter drank Merlin's Blessing without any fuss. There were no fireworks, no hallelujahs, and when the headmaster rose to his feet, it was merely to depart the hall, and not, Hermione hoped, to investigate the huge movement in magic that had taken place. Yet Babbling continued to stare thoughtfully at Hermione.
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~~~ Preparing For The Worst ~~~
Dread of what awaited Hermione seemed to have accelerated all the clocks at Hogwarts. The first lesson of the morning, History of Magic, had never rushed by so quickly, for she skated over every word of Binns' monotonous lecture. Now she had fulfilled the quest that she had set herself on the train home last summer, Hermione had become entirely focused on the terrifying challenge which awaited her after lunch.
Apprehension was diverting her thinking into curious and ridiculous avenues, and she found herself clutching at every straw of an idea the moment it wafted across her mind: Why not use the Time-turner to put off the first task for a few hours? or Perhaps if I Confund myself it won't hurt so much... and Ah, well, it'll soon be all over, one way or another. This latter thought did not cheer her up as she had hoped, though she conceded it was one of the more sane notions that were rushing through her mind.
Somewhere out there was Harry's voice offering advice and support about his Firebolt as they headed downstairs for lunch:
"Remember, keep calm, treat her gently and she'll fly smoothly for you." — "No need to take any chances, edge around looking for an opening but don't take it unless it's totally risk-free." — "It must surely be a perfectly legal strategy to wait for the dragon to fall asleep."
The Great Hall appeared to approach and swallow her, which was more than she could do with her lunch. She pecked at it slowly while the dark hour seemed to be hastening ever faster towards her.
"You should eat something, Hermione," fretted Harry.
She stopped staring at her plate to take a good look at him. He looked even worse than when she had first awoken. She understood fully now why they were such wonderful friends, and why he was family more than ever to her. Briefly, she put her hand on his.
"Have a wonderful life, Harry."
The crease of his frown deepened. "Hermione? Wh—?"
"Miss Granger, the champions have to come down into the grounds now ... you have to get ready for your first task," said Professor McGonagall, softly.
Hermione did not look at Harry again, but rose up and followed McGonagall without speaking. Behind her, she heard his fork drop onto his plate with a clatter.
McGonagall wasn't herself, either. As they walked out into the cold November afternoon, she put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head ... we've got wizards on hand to control the situation if it gets out of hand ... the main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you ... are you alright?"
"Yes," Hermione distantly heard herself say. "Yes, I'm fine."
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~~~ Hermione's Fate ~~~
"They've put Krum last, so Hermione must be next," said Neville, pointing at the Tournament scoreboard which showed Fleur Delacour way ahead of Diggory. "I reckon the French girl knew something, don't you?"
Harry didn't answer. His throat was too dry nor did he give a damn about anyone else in the competition.
"I hope Hermione will be alright," said Luna, from Harry's other side. "She must have drawn the worst dragon of them all. Those look like Hungarian Horntail eggs — they can kill you with one blow of their tail you know, their mother I mean."
Ginny, from beyond Neville, leaned around him to look at Harry's expression, but she too said nothing when she saw how distraught he looked.
A tall iron gate crashed opened at the opposite end of the arena and a thunderous cry went up from the crowd as mighty chains rattled and groaned, drawing the creature inwards. The moment she saw her eggs, the dragon released a formidable roar and ambled to them, eventually settling down in a vast curl of scaly flesh about the rough gravel nest.
Ludo Bagman, the announcer, was shouting something through an old megaphone but Harry's senses were dulled to all but the lone figure that had appeared below him in the deep amphitheatre. Hermione did not look up, and Harry, wanting to reach out to her, felt an uneasy sense of loss.
The crowd had become quieter now. There was no jeering. Some of the offensive badges were turned off. All they could see was a young schoolgirl alone in a pit with an intimidating beast that even adult experts would not willingly face alone. The tension was much greater than with the first two much older competitors.
Hermione's outstretched arm told Harry she had summoned his Firebolt and he looked up to see it sailing over the wall and down to her waiting grasp.
Remember, be gentle with her, Hermione, and she'll respond.
The dragon stirred restlessly, the great mass of its head turning slowly from side to side, sniffing the air, but she could not directly see Hermione.
Harry heard Ginny call down to her friend, "Just stay there!" for Hermione had taken refuge behind the nearest tall rock. She appeared to be examining her wristwatch but Harry could tell she was also assessing the distance to the next boulder, trying to time that first sprint.
He started making his own estimates then. The left side of the arena from his viewpoint looked to have the most cover. She could advance in reasonable safety and appear to be seriously trying, but delay until her time ran out. He tried to shout some encouragement but only a croak escaped his lips.
A glance at the organisers' stand on the far right revealed Dumbledore leaning forward, eagerly keeping a concerned eye on proceedings. Harry was reassured to see the Headmaster was alert and with his wand already in his hand in case of emergencies. Other members of the staff were spaced around, ready to help or control the crowd if necessary.
Hermione's first dash, when it came, took Harry by surprise. Her wand moved — which he thought afterwards must be her casting his fire shield spell — then she pushed the Firebolt into a clumsy but rapid sprawl along the ground and was soon safely behind the next rock. Apparently the dragon had not even noticed.
Far, far away from Harry it seemed, the crowd roared their approval, but his Quidditch instincts were shouting much more loudly at him. The Firebolt's all wrong! Something's not right with my Firebolt.
He looked above her along that western wall to see if anyone had cast a curse. It would not have surprised him to see Malfoy grinning there — but that edge was marked by the trees fringing the Forest and there was no seating along its middle section. His attention went back down to the girl who was, once more, checking the time. The crowd were now chanting, "ON! ON! ON!"
That's it, Hermione, ignore them. Work it out. Eight seconds I reckon to the next one. It's further out into the middle so curve right first to get behind it then forward and you can be safe in seven...
"She's clever, isn't she?" Luna shouted in his ear above the noise. "I wish she was in Ravenclaw."
Harry was on his feet. Hermione had made her dash without drawing the dragon's attention but had taken too long. Even allowing for her awkward control, the Firebolt seemed...
"Sluggish! The broomstick's been hexed!"
Luna was looking at him strangely. "How can you tell?"
"The way Hermione leaned — her posture — the angle. I know my broom; it should have moved faster than that. I have to tell the headmaster!"
"Perhaps it's only the—!"
But Harry was gone. He was sprinting up to the parapet walkway behind the top row of seats where he began quickly edging along while keeping his eyes on Hermione far below.
The Horntail's roar was louder than the first two dragons had been. It raised its head to challenge the intruder it had glimpsed between the piles of rock. Hermione was safe again for the moment, carefully checking Lily's wristwatch.
"Where do you think you're going, Potter?" Professor Snape was blocking Harry's way.
"I have to warn Dumbledore. Something's wrong with—"
"The Headmaster has everything under control. Take your seat or I shall have to evict you from the stadium."
"But..."
"Potter...! Now!"
Harry saw neither his glare nor his arm pointing the way back to his seat. Hermione was still waiting to get to the last rock, closer to the Forest side, it was significantly farther than her previous flights. Harry looked at the Horntail, it seemed restless...
"DON'T, HERMIONE!" he yelled.
He felt a hand grip his shoulder. "POTT...ER!"
The world seemed to slow. Harry felt Snape's fingers lose their hold as he tugged himself away down between the rows of seats, down, down towards the deep enclosure. Hermione was only halfway when the dragon thundered its anger, raised its mighty wings, and opened its jaws...
Had Hermione heard Harry's warning shout? For one moment her pale face looked up at him, then Harry's eyes bulged wide in horror as the brute's flames engulfed her.
She almost made it to the boulder... two... three... four... seconds in which he could see the fire shield protecting her... he leaping down from the stands into the pit to distract the dragon's wrath — then both girl and broomstick were one fireball skidding along the ground almost behind the rock where the Headmaster's spell could not fully reach her. With a swift wave of his wand, Dumbledore silenced the dragon then launched himself into the air, riding the wind in white silvery light. By the time he had reached the blazing corpse, Harry was already sprinting across to him.
Dumbledore doused the flaming body but huge arms engulfed Harry, holding him back. "LET GO OF ME! LET GO!"
"Nuthin' yeh can do fer her, Harry. Don' ye look on it..."
A grotesque, smouldering, black-ribbed carcass, that was all Harry glimpsed before Hagrid dragged him away, kicking and screaming and struggling to pull out his wand. He badly wanted to curse someone — anyone — everyone, for what they had done... for the suffering they had heaped upon the greatest friend he had ever had.
From across the stadium, the now-silent spectators watched Dumbledore, crouched, inspecting the remains with McGonagall behind him, hand to mouth and weeping openly. The Headmaster shook his lowered head in grief. Magic could not help the girl anymore.
For Harry, long minutes stretched into melancholic hours, then into tortured days. All that time, he kept to himself, growling and moaning his pain. Why hadn't he done more! Why had he not forcibly stopped her from participating? He himself had donated the broomstick, practically encouraging her to go too far!
The funeral, he did not attend. He could not accept the cold finality of the event nor face her parents who, he felt, he had badly let down. Perhaps he had disappointed everyone. But most of all, Harry Potter knew he had failed his best friend: Hermione Granger.
.
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End of Part 1
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Author's Notes
This was a very hard chapter to write because it is so central to the various twists and turns that are to follow coupled with the difficulty of conveying Harry and Hermione's confused feelings. Perhaps it is clumsy in parts but I believe I have included all the necessary elements to set the stage for the next three parts. And what of Hermione? You'll have to wait and see...
In fact, in the original books the dragons weren't tethered but I used a little licence here because I couldn't think of any clearer marker than chains to indicate the position of the dragon. The eggs themselves would provent the dragons from flying unless extremely provoked.
What did Hermione see that caused her such concern? Well, there are tenuous clues but otherwise, you'll have to wait for that mystery to be explained in a later chapter. And what was that about the Titanic for heaven's sake! Erm... well there is a passing reference to the voyage in Chapter 4 (search for Galfrid) but I confess I edited it in later because at the time I forgot this particular twist in the story...
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
- Hippothestrowl
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