Author's Note: Thank you to my editors (AdamineTerra and A Muffin With a Mission) and to all you wonderful people who are still reading my story. I am determined to finish this story, so I will keep writing and updating whenever I can. Please leave comments for me so that I can improve my future chapters. Enjoy!
Chapter Seven: The First Event
Hermione (September 25, 11:35 p.m.)
Hermione lay on her bed, shivering, as tears poured down her face. Her heart and soul ached as everything that had happened in the last few months came rippling out. She curled up into a ball and tried to pull her body even tighter together, as if it would draw back the missing pieces of her heart. Why did everything have to be so hard? She was supposed to be this perfect person: top of the class, happy all the time. Why couldn't she keep it together?
She heard her door click open and she whispered, "Go away," in a faltering voice to whoever was at the door. There was a slight pause and then the door closed once more, leaving her more alone than before. Hermione lay on her bed, so tired of being sad, so exhausted with life. She slowly rose from her bed and shuffled to her desk, unsure of what to do. On instinct, she pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from a desk drawer, leaving it open as she was too miserable to close it. She dipped the sharp point of the quill into the black ink and began to write, her jumbled words juxtaposed by her elegant handwriting. Before she knew it, she was writing letters to everyone who had ever hurt her, full of anger and sorrow, pouring out everything that was tearing her apart. She wrote to Malfoy, for his harsh words and the years of torment, to her parents, for leaving her stranded in a world where she was already an outcast, to Ron for asking her on a date, and finally to herself for being so foolish as to believe that she could actually work with Malfoy on this tournament problem. When she was done, she slid each letter into an envelope and dripped golden wax onto the front, trapping away her problems. Her heart loosened just a bit as she wrote names on the envelopes, fastening them to the bottom of her desk with a Sticking charm, never to be read by anyone but her. Hermione wearily trod back to her bed and snuggled under the covers with a sort of relief that wasn't complete, but enough for now. As her eyelids fluttered shut and sleep began to fill her mind, her last thought was of her parents, smiling and waving at her through the veil of death.
The next morning Hermione rose and smiled at the sun as it peeked through her window, signaling the beginning of a new day. Her head felt clearer than it had in a long while and she felt a certain energy and excitement run through her at the thought of the tournament. At the base of her four poster bed lay a pair of sleek black pants and a matching long sleeve shirt with a hogwarts crest embroidered on the back. A note lay on top with a simple "Your uniform for the tournament," written across it. She slipped into them, then practically skipped down the stairs for breakfast. When she arrived at the Great Hall, she slid into a spot in between Harry and Ron, who slung his lanky arm around her shoulder.
"Morning-" Harry grinned, turning towards her, "What happened to your face?"
Confused, Hermione reached a hand up and touched her cheek, wincing as she touched the obviously bruised skin. Malfoy's slap must have been more powerful than she realized.
"It's nothing. Just tripped on the way to breakfast this morning," she replied, casting a quick Glamour charm to cover it up.
She began to pile her plate up with food, ignoring Harry's concerned look, when McGonagall strode up to her.
"Mrs. Granger, all the competitors are assembling out by the quidditch pitch, preparing for today's competition. I suggest you join them."
A jolt of panic ran through Hermione as she jumped up, upsetting the table, and stuffed a piece of toast into her mouth. With a nod to McGonagall, she sprinted out of the castle and down to the quidditch locker rooms. Her competitors were all positioned around the room: the Beauxbatons were huddled into a corner, whispering, while the Durmstrang students were standing in the center of the room, looking imperiously at everyone else. Malfoy was sitting on a bench, a picture of calm, except for his foot, which was tapping furiously against the floor. The Dramatic Arts students were the only exception to this somber mood, cheerfully smiling and laughing as if not a care in the world. Hermione took a deep breath and sat next to Malfoy, determined to remain cool until she found the perfect moment to give him hell for last night. As the minutes ticked by, Hermione found herself wishing more and more that she could escape the tension in the room and breath some fresh air. The beginning of the tournament drew near as the sound of feet stamping on wood and excited chatter filled the room; the students began to enter the stands. The door to the locker room swung open suddenly and Dumbledore, dressed in flowing robes of blue, swept into the room.
"Good morning students and welcome to the first event of the tournament. Today you will be competing in an obstacle course. What this entails exactly, I cannot say. However, you can be assured that it will be both physically and magically challenging. You will enter the pitch in pairs, with your school partner of course, and attempt to complete the race as fast as possible. Your score will be based upon how quickly you can finish. You must work together to solve everything thrown at you, as your time will only be stopped when both of you have crossed the finish line. The order of schools is as follows. First will be Beauxbatons, followed by Durmstrang, the School for Dramatic Arts, and finally Hogwarts. Best of luck to you all."
Dumbledore exited the room with a wink, closing the wooden door with a click as he left. A large crashing gong sounded in the distance, followed by an echoing roar from the students, and the representatives from Beauxbatons carefully standing up and sweeping out into the stadium through a shiny metal door. As the minutes trickled by, Hermione reviewed charms and spells in her head, muttering to herself as she attempted to order everything in her head by importance. When the gong clanged once more, the Durmstrang students grunted and left the room, and when it resounded around the room yet again, the students from the School for Dramatic arts bounced out of the room. Only she remained in the room, unless you counted Malfoy as a person, which Hermione really didn't. Then the final bell sounded: time for her to compete.
Hermione drew her slender wand out of her pocket, glanced at Malfoy, and then stepped out of the locker room. The glaring sunlight blinded her and she was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people cheering from the bleachers. The quidditch pitch had taken a dramatic turn from what it usually was. Gone was the perfectly manicured grass, usually painted with neat white lines. Gone were the towering golden hoops that had stood regally at either end of the field.
Instead the quidditch pitch had been converted into what seemed to be a gravel running track, blocked at certain points by a variety of creatures and enchantments. Beasts from all over the track spit fire high into the sky or glaring menacingly at her, as if daring her to try and beat them. Hermione stepped up to the starting line and apprehensively stared at the first hurdle that lay before her: an immense climbing wall, covered in a red and white slime which Hermione instantly recognized to be some form of a Baneberry potion, extremely poisonous and something to be avoided at all costs.
Trying to calm her shaking hands, Hermione crouched and waited for the event to begin. A loud horn blasted across the stadium and Hermione began to sprint towards the wall, unable to hear anything but the pounding of her heart. She was so focused on calming her nerves that she almost ran into the wall, a dangerous mistake.
What should I do? Which spell?
Hermione quickly cast a shield charm and watched as it shimmered in the air, dark blue yet transparent. Then she began to climb. One hand over the other. Changing her feet from one foot hold to the next. Thud. Thud. Her heart beat in rhythm with the movement of her hands. Below her, she could hear Malfoy starting to climb the wall as well and, even though they were supposed to be working together, she felt a strong desire to beat him at this competition and in everything else that followed. She started climbing faster and faster and then suddenly she was at the top and sweeping down the other side, landing back on the track with a crash, causing a plume of dust to surround her and slightly blur her vision. The loud booming voice of the announcer was in the background of everything, doing a poor job of keeping pace with the speed of Hermione as she raced to the next obstacle.
A screech ripped through the air as Hermione skidded to a stop in front of an enormous griffin. Half eagle, half lion and entirely terrifying, the griffin rose up onto its hind legs and opened its beak to let out another ear-splitting scream. Hermione cast the first spell that came to her mind: the Incendio charm. The griffin appeared unaffected by it and charged Hermione, feathered head bent low to the ground.
"Confundus!" came a shout from behind Hermione.
The griffin stopped mid-charge and galloped of the track, wandering helplessly into the grass and flopping down with a large, malcontented sigh.
"Malfoy," Hermione growled and she sprinted ahead, now looking at Malfoy's annoyingly blond hair bouncing as he ran ahead of her.
The next obstacle was more challenging than the previous, and Hermione worked to overcome it as best as she could. The sound of the crunching gravel echoed in her ears as she gasped for breath, so unused to running this much. As Hermione and Malfoy worked to beat each new obstacle, she became increasingly more frustrated. No matter what she did, it seemed that Malfoy always did the opposite, trying to counter her out of spite. At one point, he even tripped her, sending her sprawling onto the sharp gravel and causing her to lose precious seconds of the tournament. After what seemed like hours of scrambling and casting and jumping and running, Hermione saw the finish line glinting temptingly in the sun, past one more obstacle. Just one more obstacle and she was free to go back to the warm comfort of the castle. The mist ahead didn't look too foreboding, but Hermione knew better than to trust first impressions. Still, the prospect of leaving this horrible tournament override her cation and she charged into the glittering blue mist. At once her head grew as light as a fluffy white cloud and her limbs felt as if they were floating in the air. All Hermione wanted to do was sink into the soft mist and take a long quiet nap. She felt her knees turn to jelly as she collapsed onto the ground. Eyes fluttering, heart pounding, she groped for her wand, trying to cast one more spell. Blackness filled her vision and she lifted a shaking hand into the air, trying to grasp something, anything, that would bring her back to reality.
Suddenly, a hand gripped her arm and started to drag her out of the mist, pulling her across the tiny, dagger-like rocks that covered the track. The cool mist whipped across her face, leaving it burned and raw. Then blinding sunlight hit her face and the world began to come into focus as Hermione shook off the stinging mist and the crushing weight that had settled onto her mind. The crowd was screaming with excitement and as she glanced around she saw that she had crossed the finish line and Malfoy was the one who had helped her across it. She regained her footing and stood erect, looking at the crowd where she could see Ron and Harry jumping and waving at her. Next to her Malfoy was standing with a bold arrogance, chest puffed out and the green stripe on his uniform glinting. Hermione stood, exhausted yet ecstatic, with only one thought running through her mind: "We did it."
