Chapter 8ii,
Wherein many people talk
And some die
What now, Hermione wonders? She is sitting on her bed but is still 'unnoticeable'. Her dorm mates are in their own beds. None of them said a word about her, indicating – hopefully – that they were not wondering where she was. Parvati even said 'Good night, all.' Indicating that she did not think she was alone with Lavender. Again, hopefully.
Yes, I have checked and double checked. It really works.
Tomorrow they'd go to Glasgow and submit their names to the Goblet of Fire. Or else. Minerva McGonagall, having demonstrated her tendency to volunteer other people (it was not meant to be transitive, damn it!) was now a distant second suspect in the matter of Harry Potter vs. GoF. Hermione admitted that McGonagall's speech had spared her a nerve-wrecking decision making process. She was not grateful.
Will she be able to sleep while 'spelled', should she try it out ...no, first she has to find out how Parv and Lavender will react to noticing her again in the morning. Yes. She has not tested 'reappearing' in the Great Hall, obviously. Having made up her mind now (intent being the basis of all known magic. Her newly discovered skill is no exception) she feels it again, the tell-tale sensation of being submerged in warm sparkling water, yet somehow being able to breath. Water so warm and bubbly against her skin...the first time she had simply been pushed into this sensation.
How does a disembodied presence / the other user of a cognitive interface push one? ...the 'water' was so very pleasant; a mental button, sure, but one that she really had to find. The whole sensation points to a fundamental difference between usual, aka wand-assisted magic and-
Right now it was sleep-inducing and a nice way to end such a very strange day.
)_0)
In one night the Goblins of Glasgow had 'build' the necessary Room for the ritual and arranged the presence of the required Elders and foreign human wizards with ICW clearing. They had also notified the French and Scandinavian embassies (all four of them) and notified the British MoM. They were fast, efficient and mindful of details. (Or rigorous, pedantic and redundant.) The humans arrived in the usual flying coaches of Hogwarts and were shushed into the Room. That room looked like a small circular crystal cave, light shining faintly through the glacial green. As a matter of fact it was an air bubble in a currently frozen section of the River Clyde. The perfect room for the invocation of magical Fire. Thankfully, most witches and wizards are atmospherically challenged. The current occupants were busy thinking about more important things than the humour of the Goblins. One of the two human witnesses from uninvolved countries was a military attaché, irritated at missing his daughter's birthday and even more irritated about being dragged in this affair: he was the sort of person who detested events without proper what-if planning (his daughter's birthday's what-if-planning was not only extensive, it was downright adequate).
The second witness was an elderly visiting scholar whom the Goblins had located at a congress in Newcastle. He was delighted with the opportunity to witness a Goblin Low (read 'bloodless') Ritual. As a scholar he was interested in the choreography of High Rituals. As a now admittedly elderly gentleman he knew to be mindful of his nowadays irritable tummy.
The ritual was mostly over with the assistants having been named and assigned to champions and the elders preparing to lift the spell from the vessel when that mildly mannered person began to shake. When the witnesses were called to swear that they had seen and heard and had been in their right minds during the entire procedure, the military attaché decided that he had better support his unfortunately sensitive colleague ("Civilians!"). Upon being unexpectedly touched the man lost it and started screaming in Ancient High Gobbledegook; a language that presents willing human students with the interesting psychological barrier of sounding like the noises produced by the newly exposed windpipe of a freshly severed head.
The person who translated the gurgling for Hermione was the impossibly beautiful Fleur Delacour. The champion whom she would be assisting. Fleur's Gobbledegook was not very good – according to Fleur – but she could tell her that the – gurgling – screaming man was – dying horribly – asking for Truth and Judgement in a matter of Family Honour.
So, Sirius was wrong, Hermione – clutched her security blanket – reflected. Imparting Judgement in matters of life and death is not one function of the Impartial Judge, it is the original function. Everything else came later. Makes sense, of course.
"He is not sympathetic, that man," Fleur said. "Madame does not trust him."
Karkaroff, who was loudly abusing everyone present. "And you trust her that much," Hermione murmured, remembering the time she had still trusted her own professors like that.
"Absolutely. She is the most caring and attentive and good teacher one can imagine."
You make me almost wish my parents had made me switch to your school last summer, Hermione thought wistfully. Karkaroff was really loud. She liked being able to trust the people she was supposed to trust. Why did everyone have to scream? She remembered not being paranoid. It had been nice ...that noise! Warm bubbles, turning hot; not enough air. That. Noise.
"Knave one to knave two. Knave one, can you hear me? Hermione, look at me please!" Harry? What's the matter?
"Hermione, are you all right?" Susan? And Cedric too?
"Hello there, Hufflepuff dream team," Hermione said faintly. Why were they all looking at her?
"You should let her sit somewhere. She is sensitive," said Viktor. "Go ask a Goblin to bring a seat for her. We cannot do magic in this room." Harry flew to the closest Goblin.
"That never happened before," Hermione protests feebly. She would choose the moment she had been chosen to assist a participant of a highly dangerous tournament to faint. Wonderful. Fleur is probably congratulating herself on her luck. She is also ...supporting Hermione? Fleur is.
All alone?
Well. Yes.
"Of course it hasn't," Fleur says soothingly. "Close your eyes now. It will help."
Not eyes. It's the noise. Hermione shuts her ears. She feels better at once. The room is still chaotic, everyone moving way too fast, too many people in one place, terrible pressure – But at least she no longer has to hear all that. In orfer to regain her balamce she looks at something simple and static. She looks at her own feet, barely protruding from under her plain black school robes. Her muggle winter boots; leather, not dragon hide. Standing on the frozen water. Frozen. Orderly. She takes a deep breath and catches a faint odour of... sea water? Some plant and salt. Who could have known that salt smelled that good? Someone pushes a chair under her behind and Fleur eases her into it. How strong is she, for heaven's sake, the oversized raptor? Veela. Raptor. Right.
"I am sorry," Hermione says embarassed. "I am more robust than that, as a rule." Her own voice sounds funny, with her ears still blocked. She lowers her hands. Sitting down helped: "Are they really taking Karkaroff away? Can they just do that?"
As one the small group turned to Viktor who shrugs, and looks ablolutely not like Fleur when as he does that: "They must, under the circumstances. The Scandinavian Embassies will send a new supervisor for us Durmstrang students and the tournament will proceed as planned." Avoiding to voice an opinion or doubt; but if this is serious for the Goblins it is probably better to not say anything that might be construed as criticism.
"Why is he asking for Judgement," Harry asks Fleur. " Did you understand that?"
Fleur hesitates.
"I should like to know that as well," says Viktor. "My headmaster is screaming that it was ruled to be an accident and that someone or the other was a tottery old man."
"The accuser said that his brother would never have worked on a dangerous potion while inebriated. Or would never have let himself become inebriated from working on a potion. I am not sure which one."
Viktor's face acquires a certain look and Hermione remembers that he does not like his headmaster: "I believe that Karkaroff's predecessor at Durmstrang was a renowned potions master who is said to have died in a lab accident."
They fall silent. Karkaroff is now shouting at Dumbledore, who is trying to reason with him. And the fiery archaeopteryx rises again.
)o_o(
Madame Maxime is pleased. Then again, she is not. Her many apprehensions regarding Karkaroff's presence and goals have been resolved. But the way they were resolved was a little drastic.
True, she's very pleased that the Danish cultural attaché to Britain has taken over as Head of the Durmstrang contingent at Hogwarts. The envoy from the French embassy has assured her that the man, despite being the scion of a very old family indeed, does not share Karkaroff's political views and is both pleasant and affable ("It will be better to not discuss opera with him, however"). Albus Dumbledore on the other hand left Glasgow directly for a meeting with the British Minister of Magic. Urgent sessions of the Wizengamot and the ICW are expected to follow. Minerva McGonagall is now Acting Headmistress. Upon learning what other roles that lady fulfils Madame Maxime asked very nicely if McGonagall has a twin or two.
Her embassy-assigned informant (aka dear Éloïse, Bauxbatons class of '74) is currently telling her that during the original negotiations Karkaroff had strongly resisted the idea of his champion being chosen by someone other than himself. Madame Maxime had resisted as well, stating on several occasions that she is not fond of magical apparatus doing her thinking for her. Those statements had been public and many people were amused when she was overruled; but the fact that the Goblet had become part of the agreement despite the resistance of two of the three involved headmasters has confirmed her suspicions that Albus Dumbledore is championing the re-introduction of magical justice and Ritual High Magic.
"Considering the messy and unsatisfying outcome of the so-called trials after their last war that makes a lot of sense," says Éloïse. "It is a sad state of affairs, and the British have to do something. Especially after the events of last year thoroughly reminded everyone just how bad it can get."
Éloïse proceeds to enlighten her about these events and is interested to learn that one of the protagonists had been in Dumbledore's office the night before. In turn Madame Maxime is terribly interested to learn that the current Professor of DADA at Hogwarts is the former Auror who caught Karkaroff back then. So Dumbledore had been worried about Karkaroff's politics, too? Well, that's a relief. Neither witch can make head or tale of the presence of one Molly Weasley. Éloïse will enquire.
"I would say that I understand Dumbledore's politics but I don't. Pragmatically speaking, that is. I acknowledge the problem but the solution he proposes is very drastic indeed. Has he lost the belief that their legal system can be cleansed of corruption or is he preparing for new trouble of that sort?"
"That is an interesting question indeed, Madame. Having observed him closely during the last couple of days, what do you think more likely?"
"It has been too short a time, and the events were too unusual. I believe he was as disturbed by the turn of events as everyone else. Other than that I can only say that he shows a sort of parental disregard for others."
"Albus Dumbledore is very old," Éloïse says tactfully.
"Certainly. But that does not make everyone else very young. I wonder if he has been a teacher for too long." Madame Maxime sighs: "If I did not know that I had nothing to do with it I would suspect myself of having arranged the presence of that scholar at Gringotts. I cannot stress how relieved I am that my champion and her muggleborn assistant will be safe from that Death Eater scum."
Éloïse smiles fondly. Madame Maxime´s protective mode could shame a new mother bear. Then again, Madame is a teacher, not just a school administrator. It is right that her protective instincts should be ...functional: "Ah, yes, Mademoiselle Delacour. Do you want us to enquire about the assistant?"
"No, funnily enough I know the girl. Her parents considered pulling her out of Hogwarts and came to see me last summer. In the end they decided to let her stay with her friends. A pity, for she is a gifted student."
"Who knows, Madame? After this year she will have friends at Beauxbatons, too."
"True. On a different matter, Éloïse: I should like to meet with your brother at his earliest convenience. I witnessed an interesting phenomenon from his field of expertise and I want his opinion."
Éloïse blushes: "He is currently in a period of silent meditation on granite. I think it will last a little, but I will let him know the next time he talks to anyone." Seeing her former teacher's understanding expression she blushes a little more. Stone-focused magic comes with a certain notoriety and her brother has to be one of those who keep that notoriety alive.
"I said at his earliest convenience. I am always glad to hear that our alumni do good work but granite could be said to be a little inconsiderate. Give my regards to your mother, please." (aka dearest Sophie, Beauxbatons class of 1947)
~_!
"So, Potter and you will be assisting the foreign champions," Cormac McLaggen tells the Gryffindor Common Room. As a fifth year he was at Gringotts. And McGonagall announced the results anyway. Which means that his remark is definitely not a question.
"Harry and I were chosen magical object to do just that. Then that object proceeded to eat Igor Karkaroff and now Professor Dumbledore is at an urgent ICW meeting which we hope he will able to leave before the year is over. Professor Mcgonagall just told the entire school. You must have heard her."
Karkaroff's fiery demise had nothing to do with anything, of course. It's just that Hermione could not get it out of her mind.
"But you and Harry will be assisting Cedric Diggory's opponents."
McLaggen appears to have no problems with the memories, but he was not chosen and had therefore stood considerably further away from the Goblet when- Whatever. Remind him of the obvious: "We are magically bound to do so."
"Bound by the Goblet of Fire. But you already beat that before, didn't you?"
"Excuse me, where have you been the last few days? Professor Dumbledore and four wizards from the DoM said that the Goblet works and simply objected to let the champions fend for themselves. An entire delegation of Goblins and wizards did not save Igor Karkaroff today and we 'beat it'?"
"I see you've found respect for the Goblet of Fire after all," observes Ginny.
"I saw it eat a grown man," Hermione says testily. Ginny, a third year, was not at Gringotts at all and is also too robust to be bothered by mere stories.
"And lost your own appetite in the process," Ginny teases. "You did not touch lunch, I saw it. Mum will be livid if you loose any more weight, you know. She told me to take care of you."
Hermione did not touch her lunch because she could not. She is hungry and in no mood to be teased. And what's wrong with her weight? She's exercising a lot! Her own mother does not complained, does she? Thankfully her dorm mates notice and come to the rescue. Ginny's rescue, that is.
"There is nothing wrong with an athletic figure," states Lavender the Curvy.
"But Hermione isn't athletic," Ginny points out. "She's not interested in Quidditch at all."
"Fleur is very athletic and she does not play Quidditch either," Parvati says haughtily. "She told us when we talked to her. After lunch."
Hermione introduced her friends, obviously. It was a short but inspiring discussion for the two of them. Parvati and Lavender are figure-conscious; they consider themselves reasonable in that. Who wants to end looking like Ginny's mother? Of course, the comment about Fleur draws the few remaining occupants of the Gryffindor Common Room who weren't already listening in to the group.
"Is she? What does she do," Cormac asks with heightened interest.
"I suggest you ask her yourself," sniffs Lavender who does not like McLaggen at all. (She feels that people who are vainer than she is are overdoing it.)
"Fleur was chosen between all eligible pupils of her school to compete in a very dangerous Tournament," Hermione vainly tries to remind her house mates. "That did not happen because she is-"
"Stunning," George sighs out of no-where.
"Magnificent," moans Fred.
Well, there was no point denying that. "Thank you. I was going to say 'fabulous', but I suppose that's girl-speak for you."
"And where did you learn girl-speak, oh bookworm," teased George. Was that supposed to be nice teasing?
"She read about it," answers Fred in her stead. "She has a hidden stash of Witch Weekly under her pillow."
If that is supposed to be teasing they are doing it wrong, Lavender and Parvati think alarmed: "And when did you two get access to our dorms and look under our pillows," Parvati snapps aggressively. (She does not read that rag! No self-respecting young witch touches it! Teen Witch yes, it has usefull cosmetic spells and new robes styles. WW contains nothing but mean gossip!)
"But you are all basically saying that Fleur is hot and clever and athletic. Then what does she need Hermione for," Ginny asks with a wide goblin smile.
Ron thinks this has gone too far already. What the hell is wrong with everybody today: "Viktor Krum is a world class seeker. What does he need Harry for. This interrogation is ridiculous. Dumbledore offered our help for this Tournament and McGonagall admonished us to honour our school by doing our best, regardless of who we will be assisting."
Obviously, the twins will not be berated by their one younger brother: "Ah, Sir Ronald, but you will not be assisting anyone, will you?"
Ron's ears reddened and Lavender comes to the rescue again: "Nor will you two. Apparently the Goblet does not trust one of you to do something alone, did it?"
"It couldn't name FredGeorge, the person with two bodies and half a brain," sneers Parvati.
Fred and George laugh and move close enough to touch at the hips: "It should have. We are sexy," they cry in unison, whereupon most people burst into laughter.
And everything is well. Not. Hermione needs to get out of here: "Ron, where is Harry? No, the laughter is not making her feel better. It's slightly forced (maybe). And she os still too shocked to deal with so much noise (certainly).
"He told me he would meet you at the library. Something about Thunder and Lightening."
And there was bright light, and the angels all sang together: "Really," Hermione squeaks happily. "Where did he find it?"
Ron is incredulous. That's his text! "Go," he tells her laughing. "I'll tell mum to not worry about you. We'll get you well-rounded yet. Ouch!"
"Ron! You never ever say that to a lady!" Lavender informs him scandalised, and maybe with a certain gleam in her eye.
"But what did I say?" Ron complains, earning himself another smack. Twinkle twinkle.
"I'll leave you two to it, shall I?" Hermione says faintly, looking from one to the other. Parvati winks and Hermione leaves, feeling somewhat hazy with low blood sugar level and bafflement.
If Lavender or Parvati noticed her absence last night they do not remember it. They never asked her about it that morning either, and they would have, chatty and curious as they are. So Hermione's experiment went unnoticed. That's good. In a sense all is as it 'as usual'. Apart from Ginny's and the twins' aggressive streak. Or was that friendly banter and she, tired from all that excitement, misinterpreted it?
Hermione sighs and makes her way to the library. She did expect interest in the naming of the assistants, of course. But McLaggen's questions were borderline disquieting. She hopes she misunderstood him too. Him and Ginny. Not that she herself did not wonder about the matches...
Actually, she didn't. Until Ginny mentioned it, her own thoughts had been very much occupied by the rather gruesome spectacle that ended their day at Gringotts Glasgow. But now that she is thinking about it, Cedric and Susan are perfect. Cousins and old friends, with Susan being the one person on earth who remembers that Cedric is by no means perfect, Cedric joked during the ride back. When they were all trying to forget the spectacle of a man not just being eaten alive in four bites, but of his parts then being still visible, seemingly suspended in the air – only a smattering of blood drops on the ice bellow. Trying to forget that she had found herself staring straight into the fiery – screaming – but transparent ...bird's stomach. Don't go there. Just. Don't-
And then she is at the library, or has Harry found her? She does not remember.
"There you are. I asked Ron to find you. Is he all right?"
Of course he is. I seem to be the only one who is overreacting today: "Lavender and Parvati have developed a sudden interest in him. I dare say he will be all right. Lavender might decide to polish his manners, though." Of course, only the chosen assistants and champions stood really close to the goblet and were then forced to stay for most of the spectacle there, as they had been the furthest from the exit. Still, the other five seemed to have recovered faster that she had.
"Really? That would be just in time. Did you know that we will have a ball around Yule? A real ball, with dress robes and dates?"
"No. Tell me on the way. Where are we going anyway?"
"Professor McGonagall kindly allowed me to use one of the guest rooms of Hogwarts for a little picnic," Harry said smilingly. "Kreacher provided me with the ingredients for your favourite kind of tea, you see, and I thought that it would be nice to invite the Triwizard Team."
"That's a nice name. Who came up with it?"
"I did. I thought that since we are competing we wont have the chance to talk much, and decided that a little friendly event now would be a good idea. Especially after the day we just had. Did you hear that the Goblins said that the Goblet was now heavier than it had been before? Elder Ubbe said that it had acquired a new stone. Can you believe that? I mean, Karkaroff being worth a gem stone? I was surprised that the thing did not let him go after the first bite!"
Hermione stops and leans against the closest wall. She stars at Harry. Harry gazes back at her, in pure puppy-eyed innocence; an expression he hadn't known, let alone mastered before moving in with Sirius and Remus: "Never mind that he can't have had stones himself. Hell, I bet he sold his Death Eater mates after the war in hoping to finally be able to afford a pair. Don't you think that Death Eaters appear entirely to unbalanced to have-"
"Harry," Hermione warns her friend.
" - led healthy lives? Sirius says-" He pauses expectantly but Hermione does not rise to the bait again, so he concludes: "-that it is the English Breakfast."
Hermione feels her mind explode with inappropriate questions about people who are almost as old as her parents. Does she dare peep at the pictures forming in her mind?
No!
But she grasps instinctively that the gallows humour is meant to help her and tries to go along with it: "I expect the Goblet was feeling peckish. Which is understandable. I mean, really, it is as old as the ministry itself. I bet no-one ever remembers to feed the poor thing. Do you think the manufacturer included guidelines concerning it requirements? Karkaroff must have been eating a lot of fish, so he was probably quite healthy. But what if he drank too much?"
"Hermione, it's a Goblet."
"Huh?"
"There is no such thing as too much drink if you are a Goblet."
"Oh."
"Now come on. The others are waiting."
"Did Kreacher bring chocolate cream," she asks in a still-too-timid, high, un-Hermione-ish voice. (At least she's no longer trembling, Harry thinks. He had remembered his second year and decided to delay the return to Gryffindor Tower. He should have warned Hermione, but he had been too distracted.) "It's not actually part of that sort of tea, but I like it."
"Yes. Oddly enough Kreacher did include chocolate cream. I had not idea that it wasn't part of the usual arrangement until Cedric told me."
"Of course. Let's go, they are waiting." She is still supporting herself against the wall... but she's feeling much better now. "Come on.".
!_.
The room is the sitting room of a guest suite. It is old-fashioned, even for wizard standards, and comfortable as well as comforting. The fire is open, bright and merry. Not at all like a demonic bird-like creature that had eaten a living person.
A towel-toga-clad house-elf is actually in attendance, but she's snipping instead of actually touching the cups and plates. Her presence too is comforting. Best of all is that all four human occupants of the room seem genuinely pleased to see them. Hermione and Harry sit on the remaining two chairs. High backed but comfortable (true magic, that).
Harry's impromptu full tea is a success. The Hogwarts elves have augmented Kreacher's provisions (which had been for three persons) and the additions are substantial. Caffeine and sugar ease the students over the lingering shock as well as over the conversational bumps that are to be expected in such a situation. They are soon chatting about a number of topics (comparing their schools, sweets, professional Quidditch, favourite subjects, weekend distractions during school, lunch menus). The Tournament is only mentioned when they finally part and wish each other good luck. Then Cedric and Susan are off to Hufflepuff while Viktor and Harry go to meet the other Durmstrang students.
The Beauxbatons students had been told to spend the Sunday at Hogsmeade and aren't back yet but Fleur offers to take Hermione to meet Madame Maxime and Hermione accepts eagerly. She wants to avoid Gryffindor Tower almost as much as she wants to talk to the Headmistress of Beauxbatons.
"It was so disturbing," Fleur remarks upon reaching the blue coach. "Seeing a giant fiery bird like that. For a moment I thought I was having an out-of-body experience while my other shape was eating that man. I think I will stick to vegetables and sweets for a while."
And Hermione understands why 'her' champion did not touch lunch either and why, during tea, she spread her Cornish Splits so enthusiastically with chocolate.
#_#
Madame Maxime, it seems, has been wanting to to talk to Hermione. At the moment she wants to talk about the sensitivity Hermione displayed in Gringotts. She makes no bones about her belief that it indicates a mixed ancestry. Hermione thinks that's far-fetched. She can accept the existence of hidden magical ancestors, maybe by way of squibs, but Madame Maxime is rather adamant that this is not a human trait.
"Most modern witches and wizards consider sensitivity a superstition, and, funny enough, all of my students who have shown such tendencies have been muggleborn. Which means that whatever it is, if indeed it is something, is avoiding established magical bloodlines, but how can a trait avoid a bloodline, if it is only a trait? Sure, avoiding the magical world can be regarded as wise, considering how isolated and conceited we can be. Incidentally, I am curious: could you tell me how you feel about house-elves? My muggleborn students tend to have strong views on them."
Hermione hesitates:"I am reserving judgement because I really do not know that much about them. I had to work really very hard to start understanding the magical world-view at all when I came to Hogwarts. Nothing made sense, even when I could see that it worked."
"Your parents told me about that. They said that you would quote books every time they asked you for an explanation."
"Yes, it was a sore subject. They always wanted me to explain in my own words, and I was so worried that I would say nonsense if I tried. Magic was so unlike everything I had known before. It started getting better during third year. Something clicked in my brain then. I can see it as a separate but equally true reality now... most of the times. The concept of the Goblet, or Impartial Judge, as you called it, is still-"
"Frightening?"
"Yes," Hermione admits.
"It should be, in my opinion. It is a form of magic that most magicals do not comprehend; goblins are much better with it than human witches and wizards. If we had done today's ritual without them, the magical preparations alone would have taken five to eight days."
Days! Hermione is instantly bursting with questions... but she has learned about diversions. Snape has taught Harry and her well: "I do not see what it has to do with house-elves or with me. Unless you want to tell me that I am part house-elf myself." That would definitely explain why wizards and witches do not admit it.
Madame Maxime smiles to herself: "No. House-elves cannot mix with other species. They are quite singular, in that."
"How can we be sure of that?"
"It is safe to assume that all that can interbreed has done so and has done it repeatedly. Believe me," says the half-giant, "we would me for playing, Miss Granger. Among those who accept that the various elf races have not left us as completely as it seems this sort of sensitiveness is regarded as a sign of Sidhe blood. Or some other kind of elf, though for some reason we prefer that name. Anyway. Seeing as humans have not seen Sidhe in almost a millennium, most of us are convinced that they have left or that they have changed beyond recognition."
"Into house-elves, you mean. No, you don't. Are house-elves related to Sighe at all?"
"Wizarding wisdom has it that they are either distant relatives or a species that was created by them for us."
The other way around sounds likelier to Hermione: "The way most wizards treat them I'd think that wizards created them for their own convenience, using Sidhe that they somehow convince or forced."
"This is a theory that only muggle-borns express. The same muggleborns who feel disgust about the way many house-elves treated. But I digress. Personally I think that they are a natural species that must have entered a magical contract. Wizards do not have the sort of knowledge that might lead to the creation of a new species. If nothing else, we would know more about their magic if we had designed them and believe me when I say that we know very little. Anyway, it was mostly your reaction to the Goblet today that gave me ideas."
"But how can you think that Sidhe are around, all lack of proof notwithstanding?" I suppose I could tell you about species that are around but ignore us as we ignore them, Hermione thinks, remembering the words of 'Hogwarts'. But I think I will wait with that. No sense in repeating my mistakes about trusting people too easily.
"I have no fixed opinion on that matter. I feel that people who have are often assuming too much. I will admit that it is connected to basic questions about the origins of magic that interest me. And it might interest you that the concept of heightened sensitivity is widely accepted. It is regarded as a result of experience. What is not accepted is the idea of born sensitives. Power is seen as something that comes through study, experience and maybe also through ruthlessness."
"That sounds like the contrary of what blood purists are saying."
"Yes and there is a reason for that. I am sure I do not need to tell you more. But to return to our central topic, you will do well to remember that 'elf' is an umbrella term," Madame Maxime points out. "That's the reason why even wizards who do accept the existence of specific inborn magical abilities do not bother examining the ancestry of persons who appear to have any."
"So you basically told me nothing about myself other than there is a vague possibility of something vague. I can live with that, but why would you bother?"
"Because I cannot shake the feeling that you will find out and tell me. And because I consider it wrong to keep my thoughts to myself. Vague as they may be – and they are a little more solid than you seem to believe. It is just that my data do not allow a conjecture, for now – they are about you."
"This is a most refreshing attitude, Madame. May I ask what you told my parents when you met them, seeing as it concerns them as much as me?"
"I told them that I believe that they have magical ancestry that may or may not be entirely human. That, incidentally, is something I tell all parents of muggleborn students. Often enough it turns out that their last magical ancestor is still alive and can, now that they have been let into the secret, help them and their children adjust. Your parents told me that they agree with the magical ancestry, as your magic cannot be the normal sort of mutation. As for the non-human part, they assured me that your family doctor considers you very normal indeed."
All three women smile at that. Hermione has no difficulties imagining the very inflection her father would have used. She really has to write a long letter to her parents. Tell them everything about the last few days. Maybe apologise for parts of last summer, too.
Madame Maxime continues: "The way you dealt with the Goblet of Fire and your friend's involuntary entry into the Tournament speaks of some sort of additional talent. The fact that you saw the bird today clearly, whereas most others only saw a fire – yes, that's all they saw – hints that this talent is about... recognition. Let's call it that, for now, until we know more. Combining that with your academic performance so far I cannot help hoping that you will discover answers to my questions. I am sorry, what did you say Fleur?"
"I said she can discover the answers to everything after we win this Tournament," Fleur repeats calmly.
"I will do my best to assist and you will do your best to win," Hermione says earnestly.
Fleur nodds as if accepting an offer. Hermione decides there and then to really, really work as hard as she can. She's disposed to like her assigned champion anyway, but the girl was one scary ...bird.
"Fleur, don't be a slave-driver. Hermione must not neglect her regular studies."
Hermione feels that she could get used to being treated with respect and honesty, even if it confuses her. Her last question to Madame Maxime is if she believed that other people had formed the same conjectures as she has about Hermione's abilities.
"I notice a tendency to keep you from your friend Harry," the headmistress answers candidly. "Dumbledore's original proposition would have ensured that you compete against each other. Of course, the Goblet did give him that, in the end. But he had tried to force my hand by suggesting that the remaining two assistants be chosen from the best students. He perceives a discrepancy between magical abilities and academic performance and he did not trust your magical abilities to be enough or he would have suggested the Impartial Judge himself. He is very fond of that principle."
Later she will consider her feelings about Albus Dumbledore's attitude towards learning in general and herself in particular. Now she has more pressings matters to think of: "How sure are you that he did not manipulate you to do it for him?"
"We never talked about the possibility. He and the late Karkaroff spend the night discussing matters of... To put it bluntly, I added my terms for the continuing of the tournament after your headmaster had finished his announcement."
"Oh." That had not been a planned and agreed-upon two-part-announcement? "Do you mind if I ask about the reasons for your antagonism to my headmaster?"
"I would mind if you didn't. Albus Dumbledore has a history of pledging his support and then slip in demands after the negotiations are over. (Yes, I did something similar yesterday. I do not do that, normally.) Or imply his support but refrain from an actual agreement that would state actual responsibilities. I would never assist his political enemies here in Britain. I may not like him but I would not want to have to deal with them. However, I see no reason why not to assist my champion's assistant and promising future researcher who happens to find herself in opposition to him. "
She looks sternly at Hermione: "Albus is fond of saying that his plans serve the greater good. You will have to decide for yourself if that greater good includes you. I do not envy your position. You are too young to find yourself in opposition to such a man. But you have many advantages, the least of which is that Albus probably underestimates you. I cannot fathom why, but- Let's say that considering he is a teacher, he does not seem to believe in learning. He sees that we employ our will to perform magic and somehow that has given him the idea that intent is everything. Which is like saying that will is everything because people have to want to move an arm or an leg in order to do it. Simplicistic, to say the least."
Hermione has spend a lot of time idolising Albus Dumbledore. Whom Madame Maxime apparently considers a ruthless political player. In the guise of a grandfatherly headmaster. Who, like Snape, considers her a fluke, good in class but not really good.
"That is a lot to take in. I will think about it. But I hope that you are wrong."
"I don't. That would be sentimental. There is a place for loyalty and it is an important one, but letting fondness blind you- I should really stop. Your day has been hard enough already and I am making it worse, especially considering that I am just telling my own wild theories."
Madame Maxime sighs deeply: "Here I am, piling your plate with all sorts of unpleasant things. I really need to restrain myself. But please, before you go, think and tell me if there is a ...hm, a part of or phenomenon in nature that you feel particularly attuned to."
Hermione looks into Madame Maxime's eyes: "Why do I think you've already guessed what it is?"
"I would never 'guess', child. I have an affinity towards stone due to who my mother was. Unfortunately, stone is very stable. That means that we barely react to the others. Fleur here is attuned to fire. She says that she feels calm around you, which means that you are probably not water."
Hermione likes water a lot, so this 'special relationship' is not something that feels like 'liking'. What else could it be?
"I have a very strong impression that stone – which I did not consider an element before, shows how little I know about the magical world-view – likes me, if stone can like anything."
That expression must have a particular meaning for Madame Maxime, for she smiles a truly wicked smile to herself.
.°o°O°o°.