Chapter 7 : Rebirth
'All the points were for nothing.' Hermione stared to the hedge labyrinth, trying to shake this numb feeling by focusing only on her boyfriend. So really, what did it matter who went in first and who last? All the previous danger, all bravery had been futile. Even worse, nobody could look into the darkness awaiting the champions in there, nobody could interfere. The spectacle seemed to become rather boring with so many people just waiting for the winner to arrive. Or for the red spots signaling somebody needed help. Rather, Hermione cynically corrected, for the screaming to end if somebody really needed help and was clever enough to direct his magic to solve the problem instead of wasting precious time and energy on calling help which couldn't possibly come in time. A younger Hermione would have trusted the adults who set up this task to know what they were doing. Now all she saw were three dubious teachers sending their students to injury and risk of death for the glory of some medieval trophy. Thinking about it made her shiver. There was a man who studied and promoted teaching of the Dark Arts, a half giant woman who should be prohibited from using a wand by law and the Hogwarts headmaster, personally responsible for the death of Ronald Weasley and the injury of his younger sister Ginerva. These people shouldn't be in a teaching position or even allowed near children, but in psychological care, Hermione concluded.
Finally the speeches on how important it was to get glory for glories sake, a new trophy for the trophy room and a handsome amount of money ended and one after another the champions went into the labyrinth without looking back. 'This could be the last time i saw him!' Irrational fear overcame Hermione. What had been her last words? I love you? Stay safe? Goodbye? She didn't remember, hopefully it wouldn't matter. To distract herself from this thought, she watched the Durmstrang students cheer for Viktor. They weren't as overjoyed as the girls from Beauxbaton or creative as the Hogwarts students. Instead they started unison their monotone chanting of "Krum! Krum! Krum!", which bolstered Hermione's confidence. He would come out alive. She was certain of that. Trophy in hand or not, he would be back in her arms.
Inside of the labyrinth, Viktor was having only minor trouble circumventing the obstacles placed in his path. More important was to find out how to get to the Triwizards Cup. Probably if he could reverse an Accio spell or use it in a sonar like way - no, it wasn't time for the scientific approach. Something strange broke out of the fine green mist surrounding him. It had leathery wings, eyes like fire and approached fastly. Categorizing it as enemy, Viktor tried stunning it. Before even stepping out of the fog he realized his mistake, because the creature had shrieked in a way he didn't expect of anybody but Fleur. And of course when he stepped closer she was laying there. 'Seems the fog warps either my way of seeing or of thinking'. Viktor thought. This was his last thought in the tournament, because right then Cedric and Harry brought him down from behind and passed by, leaving their two stunned opponents and red sparks behind.
When the red sparks appeared, Hermione went to the medical tent immediately. Not because Viktor would be stupid enough to be the first out, but to see if whatever in there was dangerous enough to seriously injure somebody. Since both champions just needed to be enervated, Viktor and Hermione met halfway between stadion and tent.
"I'm out, Fleur too, doesn't take a genius to figure out who will win this tournament." Viktor said instead of a greeting. "Please come with me, they like to keep it secret to not ruin the suspense."
Hermione followed him and didn't ask if everything was wrong with him. He seemed fine enough.
"Tell me what happened, so we might learn from it." she simply said.
"Coincidence, sweetheart." Viktor smiled "Coincidence, the only reason of happiness and sadness."
They walked at the shore of the lake holding hands and for them, the rest of the world ceased to exist.
"Don't you think we should go back? It's becoming dark."
"I just wonder why they are not searching for me" Viktor answered. "There should be a big ceremony, some speeches, a lot of unnecessary applauding and the traditional smug smiling of the headmaster of the winning school. Of course i should have stayed there, shook some hands, signed some autographs and try to look like I want to see myself in newspaper tomorrow. Or I could stay here, with you."
"I worry. Whatever it means, it is nothing good." Hermione made her point.
"Then let's go. It was wonderful, I'd say, but you know that already."
Arriving at the stadium an unexpected silence greeted them. Fallen banners of the fans and the usual waste left behind by any group of people covered the seats. Going back to the castle, they found the students in the great hall at dinner, exchanging rumors about what happened. All agreed that Harry suddenly appeared in front of the ranks, holding in one hand the Triwizards Cup and in the other Cedric Diggory. From this basic story line, a million conspiracy theories developed. The most exciting one involved Harry sacrificing Cedric to an ancient dark god, the obvious involvement of the CIA and a rare illness called "Sudden Death", derived from the "Black Death" and hundred times as deadly. First Cedric died, and then the truth.
Luckily Dumbledore entered soon and announced that Voldemort was responsible for the death of Cedric, otherwise Harry would have to live in fear to be lynched by his own classmates on the spot after leaving the hospital wing. The Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students seemed to rather take it in stride. Understandably, it was not their country threatened by the Dark Lord yet. While Dumbledore droned on about the importance of standing united against a common enemy, Hermione calculated how much time she had until Viktor had to leave. Not enough, she realized, and decided to spend every precious second for and with him.
She had fought at Harry's side for the Philosophers Stone and for Sirius Black's freedom. Nothing left her in so much pain, such sadness like the departure of Viktor. Her stupid words to him sounded hollow to her even when she mouthed them. And his hoarse voice, dry from swearing eternal love hadn't sound convincing. To write, to meet, to never forget and never stop loving - both of them obliged the ancient rules to spout pure clichés, without any guarantee. Nothing was sure for her anymore. How can you promise that a feeling will stay? It's not as if it was a choice to begin with to love somebody, was it?
The first day after he left, she couldn't believe the sun continued to shine normally. The second day it was annoying and at the third she took it as an insult already. Everywhere places they met appeared, full of fond memories. Always some little, unrelated event set her mood low by reminding her on what she lost that day. Couples were the worst, holding hands like she craved, kissing in public even. If she was a prefect, she would show them!
The summer holidays were close, and Hermione started to fall into a routine. Stand up, eat breakfast, get Viktors letter, go to lectures, reply him, self-study, eat lunch, self-study again and then sleep. The only excitement she got was from the studying. To show her knowledge in classes became less and less important for her, while the topics of her letters grew more and more complex. One praising word from Viktor meant more to her than even 20 points by Professor Snape ("given for successfully only answering a question when being asked to after just 4 years"), which didn't create any reaction. Additionally, training the Dark Arts seemed to form the character. Somehow Hermione wanted to record this change for scientific reasons, but the necessity to keep her research secret was higher. People got send for less to Azkaban, she reminded herself. And some didn't get send there for worse.
First of all she stopped tutoring Neville, who didn't deem himself worthy of her support in the first place. Secondly she took great care that anything she said would be logical, crystal clear rational and to the point, devoid any expression of emotion. Sarcasm and irony seemed the most promising approach. Professor Snape's way of talking she couldn't copy, his sudden changes at volume in bored drawling needed more experience and timing. Her style was faster, so her way of speaking had to become cold and sharp like ice if she wanted to advance. And to advance she had, books of dark lore waited to be learned, to be discovered and experienced. Thirdly Hermione began to work on her concealment. These changes were to drastic and sudden, probably everyone knowing about the Dark Arts would find out what she was about to do. The only obvious masking of that seemed to be puberty for her, so she started to dress in the style older girls wore, listened strange music she actually didn't even appreciate and hoped to fool anyone checking not thoroughly.
The biggest disadvantage of practicing the Dark Arts was how fast and easily she lost the connection to the last few people trying to keep contact with her. Loneliness and isolation became her permanent condition. For several years the girls sharing a dormitory with her had tried to bring the "bookworm" into their social circle. Now, with the new aloof Hermione, they finally gave up. Secretly Hermione wondered if she shouldn't be in Slytherin, since the girls of that house behaved pretty much like herself. Maybe they actually even did it for the same reasons, who knew? She should follow that idea later, after she got the theory of the Dark Arts down completely.
On one evening when Hermione was busy with her astronomy homework, an eager Harry interrupted her studies:
"Hi Hermione, long time not seen! How do you do? Like to go to Hogsmeade weekend together tomorrow?"
"We met yesterday in class, and no, I'm not a bit interested, Harry" Hermione lightly replied. "and please, call me Jeane, if you would?"
"Ok, guess I'll see you monday then", a slightly confused Harry said and left the library in haste.
Meanwhile Hermione wiped away a tear. As long as they ignored each other for their respective partners, it seemed so natural. Now the dice had fallen and she had outright rejected his attempts to stay best friends. The training would be harder than she expected. Next year she would need to find a way to practice the dark curses finally, she promised herself. It was time to reap the fruits of her hard work.
The end of the school year was remarkably weird. Seeing the boy who allegedly fought the Dark Lord being rewarded for it with a few gold coins and the Triwizards Cup had been strange already, but to see him now get house points for it and therefore Gryffindor getting the House Cup seemed like a rather surrealistic dream.
On the Hogwarts Express Hermione sat in a compartment with some Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls, who all seemed to love reading as much as she did. It was quiet, relaxing and from the approving looks Hermione got when she came in, she was welcome here. Arriving in King's Cross station, she wished to conserve this atmosphere somehow.
When she got out but didn't find Harry in the crowd, she tought she wouldn't see him until the start of the new term. Soon she would find out how wrong she was, but first she got to see her parents and a long summer filled by theoretical application of her new knowledge. Furthermore, she needed to learn what she could of next years theory, so that she could realize her additional plans. The Dark Arts wouldn't have any secrets from her any longer!