The rain that fell on the island that held Azkaban prison never seemed to stop or even lighten at all, bombarding the tower like an eternal arrow volley, and the noise of the constant storm was so deafening that even if there was anybody there to see it, nobody would have heard the hooded man who had just apparated onto the island. As soon as he appeared so did the spectral form of a horse, his Patronus, walking alongside him as he approached the prison and not a moment too soon as dementors had already begun to circle him from above. The man feared neither the dementors nor their kiss but he was not immune to the feeling of dread and misery that they imposed upon all who got too close to them, so he was deeply disappointed to see one such dementor sweep down a few yards in front of him and hover there, waiting for him.
"I am here with permission from the Ministry of Magic to speak with Morgan Fletcher and escort him off this island," the man said with a rough, Scottish accent as he held up a letter bearing the Ministry's seal. He had no idea if Dementors understood the concept of permissions or seals or if they could even read, and his hopes were not raised when the dementor before him did nothing but breathe heavily for a moment, but eventually it floated out of the man's way and gestured in the direction of the prison. Nodding his head in thanks, the man quickly reached the wall of the prison, the bricks of which began to rotate and shift out of place as he walked closer to reveal the entrance to the tower. He entered the corridor before him and was plunged into relative darkness as the wall closed behind him and the noise of the rain faded slightly but he was happy just to be away from the dementors, even if it was only brief.
"Lumos," the man said, his wand illuminating the area immediately in front of him. The candelabras that lined the walls were poorly lit, giving off only the slightest amount of light. The man wondered if this was by design or if the dementors simply didn't care to upkeep the candles. He made his way to the end of the corridor and began to climb the stairs up to the sixteenth floor, where Fletcher was supposed to be held. He could hear the jeers and cries of inmates who still (somehow) had enough life in them to but paid no attention to them. He couldn't afford to pay any attention to them either; there was no doubt some of the prisoners would recognise his face and that was trouble he'd rather not deal with so he walked on, pulling his hood a little tighter as he went. Reaching the fourth floor, the man - shadowed by his Patronus - made his way past the countless cells and inmates until he came to Fletcher's, where he was met with a brick wall. The man pondered for a second, thinking how the inmates on the lower levels had it lucky, in a way - the lower floors were made for prisoners serving less serious sentences, so they still had cell doors and moderate lighting at least. Up on the sixteenth floor the cells are more like solitary confinement, the doors replaced with the same magical doorway enchantment as the one that allowed the man to enter the building on the ground floor. Sadly, every time the man saw the walls move that way he was reminded of Diagon Alley, so very far away from him now. After a moment the wall before him began to shift and he was able to step foot into Fletcher's cell, followed closely by his Patronus and the ball of light. Fletcher was kneeling on the floor in the middle of his cell, his head drooped, his hair matted and falling out. The man couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"Morgan Fletcher?" The man said, crouching to speak better to the prisoner. "I have a proposition for you."
"Fuck... off," Fletcher said gruffly, so out of breath one would have thought he'd run a mile.
"You're serving a life sentence here, aren't you Mister Fletcher? That must be tough... especially for your daughter," the man said and he thought he heard Fletcher's breathing catch a little, so he pressed on. "My associate has need of you, Mister Fletcher, for a task that may result in your death... in fact it will probably end in your death, but at least you won't wither away in here."
"Why should I... help you...?" Fletcher spat, trying to sound cocky but instead just coming across as exhausted.
"You're never seeing your daughter again, that much is certain; there's no mass breakout coming to save you and my bet is you've only got a few years left in you before these dementors drain you of your will to live altogether... but you can still help Annabelle," the man said and Fletcher's head lifted to look at his face. "You'll be taken to my associate and from there what he does with you is no business of mine. In return your daughter and her guardian will be paid five thousand galleons upfront as well as an extra five thousand galleons set aside in a private Gringotts vault ready for when Annabelle turns of age. My associate will also ensure that she is well cared for until then. Do we have a deal?"
Silence fell for a minute as Fletcher seemed to consider his limited options. Finally, he spoke.
"Can I see her? Annabelle?" he asked. "It's been so long... they won't let her... come see me..."
"My job is to escort you to my associate, it's his heart strings you'll have to try and pull on," the man said. Fletcher hung his head once more and the man, despite his best efforts, began to get impatient. He felt bad for it, of course, but the dementor's influence over the island was starting to get to him and he wanted more than anything to be away from there as soon as possible. Fortunately, Fletcher seemed to have come to a decision.
"Okay," he said. "I'll do it."
"That is, without a doubt, the worst film you've dragged me to so far," Harry said as he and Hermione stepped out of the movie theatre into the chilly September air, linking their arms and huddling together as they walked through the night.
"It was not," Hermione laughed.
"Oh no, you're right, that part at the end where you weren't sure if she was going to kiss him or not and then she did, I've never seen that before, that was a stroke of genius," Harry joked and Hermione playfully slapped his chest.
"What about the one from a few weeks ago? What was it called...? 'The Message'? The one about the guy who gets catfished by a billionaire," Hermione said.
"Oh yeah I remember now, in that case I take it back, this one was the second worst film."
"Oh, because all of your movie choices have been amazing," Hermione scoffed.
"I'd say I make a good choice eight out of ten times," Harry said.
"Then you're worse at maths then I thought."
"Come on, Hermione, you know I can only count to B."
The pair walked arm in arm, slowly making their way back towards Baxton and the Manor, having come to a neighbouring town for the cinema.
"So how have your first few days been? I hear you've already made a good impression with the professors," Harry asked.
"Nerve-wrecking to be sure," Hermione answered honestly, "but Luna and Ginny have been helping me settle in. By the way, are people... afraid of Ginny?"
"No, no," Harry laughed, "she's just very protective and always down for a fight, magical or otherwise. People know not to get on the wrong side of her, but people who do end up in her bad books tend to have done something to deserve it. She'd make a fantastic beater if she didn't have such a good throwing arm."
"So will I get to see you play this year?" Hermione asked.
"If everything goes to plan, then yes. I need to arrange for team try-outs at some point soon too; now that Flint's gone, I need a new chaser by my side and I'll never forgive myself if I let Gryffindor win the cup in my first season as captain."
Hermione smiled as Harry rambled on about Quidditch all the way back to the Manor. She enjoyed listening to him talk, even if she didn't really understand all of the intricacies or even the full appeal of Quidditch, she was just glad to hear Harry be passionate about something. Hermione longed to get to bed, the late film tiring her out, so she was very glad to finally be walking back up the steps to the Manor.
"I also need to be hunting down a new manager for the Knights, now that Cooper's gone we can finally-"
*Crack!*
"Mister Potter!" a voice called from behind Harry and Hermione and as they spun they saw before them a tall man with greying hair and a tired face, dressed in dark grey robes and a matching hat.
"Mister Crouch," Harry said in a more serious voice now, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I apologise for the intrusion, especially at this late hour, but I must discuss something with you in regards to the Tournament," Crouch said.
"Of course," Harry said and returned his attention to Hermione. "You head inside, I won't be long."
With a peck on the cheek for Harry and an awkward goodbye for Crouch, Hermione turned and made her way inside.
"Walk with me, Barty," Harry said, gesturing for Crouch to follow him as he began to walk towards the gardens.
"It's Karkaroff," Crouch said, walking by Harry's side now. "He's threatening to back out of the Tournament, he won't give his reasons but we both know why, Mister Potter."
"The Dark Mark..." Harry said and Crouch hummed in agreement.
"He's afraid that what happened at the World Cup is just the beginning of something larger, something that will involve the Triwizard Tournament in some way."
"Well he's right to be anxious, especially with how many Death Eaters he managed to get locked in Azkaban in his place. We can't let him back down now, though, Barty! The schools are meant to be arriving in a few days, we can't have a Triwizard Tournament with only two champions..."
"I don't intend to let him get away so easily but if he stands his ground we can't force him to compete-"
"Karkaroff? Stand his ground?" Harry scoffed. "You've seen first-hand just how cowardly he is... and maybe that's what we need to make him realise. When Voldemort comes back-"
"If he comes back," Crouch interrupted with a grimace but Harry ignored him.
"Karkaroff is going to be hunted down like a dog for his betrayal, so the safest place for him to be when that happens is with the only wizard Voldemort was ever afraid of."
"Dumbledore," Crouch said. "So we just need to convince him that Hogwarts is safe."
"Good luck with that," Harry laughed. "Now, is there anything else you wished to discuss, Barty?"
Hermione stepped into the dimly lit Manor and began to make her way up to her room, the cosy warmth of the house preparing her nicely for bed. She had just rounded the corner of the corridor when she saw something very odd; a moving ball of light at the other end of the corridor, slowly floating from left to right. For a second Hermione thought it was a ghost without a form, but upon closer inspection saw that the light was coming from a wand held by a figure she couldn't discern with something large floating behind them. Was it Sirius? Or Remus? And what in the world was behind them? Overwhelmed with curiosity, Hermione's tiredness was put on hold for a moment as she crept down the corridor towards them as they moved around the corner and out of sight, evidently unaware of her presence. Keeping her distance, Hermione followed them until they entered Harry's office. She pressed herself to the door and peered in to see Sirius stood in front of the fireplace and Hermione had to stifle a gasp as she realised that the thing that had been floating behind him was a body, lay horizontally and not moving a muscle.
"Kanakri" Sirius said and the fireplace before him began to shift until it revealed a a stairway leading down into darkness. With his wand still lit, Sirius walked down the steps and the floating body gently followed. With Sirius out of sight, Hermione stepped into Harry's office and approached the fireplace. Unsure of what to do or think, whether or not she should just pretend to have never seen any of this, Hermione peered into the darkness of wherever the stairway led and couldn't help but step forward. As she did the fireplace began to move again, quickly closing up the wall and blocking the stairway from sight. Without really knowing why, Hermione threw herself through the gap before it closed and steadied herself on the stairs as she heard the final brick set back in place behind her. Now ever so slightly worried she was trapped here forever, she took solace in knowing that Sirius was down here somewhere too.
"Lumos," Hermione said, taking her wand out of her pocket and holding it high. With a deep breath she followed the staircase down until it levelled out and kept walking until she came to a problem: a path to the left and a path to the right. With no idea which way Sirius might have gone and no light to guide her aside from her own, Hermione decided to first go right.
The stone floor and walls surprisingly left very little echo and the wooden support beams creaked menacingly as she walked, though she had full faith that they would not collapse upon her. She followed the path until she came to a couple of doors on either side of the walls, the furthest of which was slightly ajar.
"Sirius?" Hermione quietly asked the room as she stepped in, glancing around. The room, like the rest of the place, was dimly lit, with a wooden table set against one of the walls above which was the knife that had been used to stab Harry at the World Cup, floating in the air, books littered beneath it. There were several other cabinets and shelves of books and an array of oddities around the room, but Hermione's eyes were drawn again to the body that now lay atop a table at the far side of the room. She tiptoed over to the table and hesitantly observed the body. It was a man with matted hair and a tired face, not tired like Crouch though; Crouch looked tired as if from work, this man had the look of someone who had had all life drained from him. Was he dead? Hermione wasn't sure and if she was honest, she didn't know which was worse. Stepping away from the table she managed to tear her eyes from the body and leave the room. Sirius had clearly been there but where was he now? And how was Hermione even going to confront him about this? Was she going to mention this at all? Did Harry know what was going on? These questions and more ran through Hermione's mind as she returned to the dimly lit, stone corridor and tried to remember where she had come from. Assuming that Sirius must be in a different room, she chose another door at random and pushed it open, this time stepping into complete darkness. The Lumos charm quickly lit the room a small amount, enough that Hermione could make out something ahead of her. Slowly stepping forward, the light from her wand finally shone upon a chest that looked very familiar, its lid wide open. Where had she seen it before?
"Lost, little dove?" came a cocky voice from behind Hermione that was unnaturally familiar to her. With a jump she whipped around to see a double of herself step out of the shadows and smile evilly, sharp fangs exposed, its eyes black as the void.
"Fuck," Hermione whispered to herself as the boggart lunged at her, forcing her to duck out of the way. By chance she found that she had positioned the boggart between herself and the chest. "Riddikulus!" she cried and heard the boggart blast backwards but she could not see, for her Lumos charm immediately disappeared as she attacked the boggart. With a crash, Hermione hoped that the boggart had somersaulted backwards into the chest and trapped itself but hope wasn't going to keep her safe if she was wrong. Hermione immediately turned and made for the door but almost ran right into the wall, panic setting in as she fumbled to find the door handle. After a moment she found it and yanked the door open, slamming it shut behind her and sprinting away to put as much distance between her and the boggart as possible. She needed to find Sirius, even if he was being suspicious with floating bodies and hidden parts of the Manor, she needed him to get out now.
But horror struck Hermione as she reached what appeared to be the end of the corridor and found it to be a dead end. Cursing, she was about to turn tail and head back where she had come from and risk that the boggart was on her tail when she wondered why Harry - or whoever had had this designed, for that matter - would have such a long stretch of corridor just for it to end. It didn't seem practical, at least not to Hermione. She placed her hand upon the wall, thinking that maybe it had a hidden handle. When her search left her with nothing, she considered other possibilities. Maybe it wasn't a handle that opened the door.
"Kanakri?" Hermione said to the wall, feeling foolish until the wall began to move just like the fireplace had done, but instead of a passageway the bricks revealed a door, identical to the ones that Hermione had seen earlier. Without wasting time to think about it, she pushed the door open and dashed inside, praying that she had found Sirius at last. What she found was something she had not expected at all.
It was a bedroom. Not a comfortable bedroom, to be sure, but a bedroom nonetheless. It had very little furniture beside a bed, a toilet and sink, and a ridiculously large mirror. There was also a passageway that led off to a different corridor but, strangely, it was blocked by several large, metal bars. Why in the world would there be a bedroom down here, even if it did look fitting with the aesthetic of the rest of the place? Hermione's mind was swimming with ideas and questions, not all of them good, when her attention was caught by the large mirror ahead of her that spanned almost to the ceiling. Stepping closer, she slowly saw herself fade into view in the reflection, followed by-
"Harry?" she gasped and she turned to look beside her where Harry had appeared in the reflection, but he wasn't there. Hermione brought her gaze back to the mirror and her eyes flickered to an inscription set into the gold above the it: "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi". Unable to make heads or tails of the strange language, Hermione's eyes fell once more to where her reflection and Harry stood, their hands entwined together, as more people faded into view; her mother, Luna and all the Weasleys all appeared together, smiling back at her.
"What is this?" Hermione whispered as she felt her heart racing, her mind reeling and her breath become stifling, but then a noise she knew could only mean trouble pierced her ears from beside her. Slowly and with great effort, the metal bars blocking the way to the corridor she had noticed earlier began to slide out of place until they had disappeared entirely into the wall. There was silence for a moment as Hermione stared, and then all of a sudden, she felt as if she had stepped into a freezer, her hands tingled and she could see her own breath before her. A moan came from the corridor so guttural that it froze Hermione in place, her eyes widening in fear once more as a filthy, scabby hand wrapped its long-nailed, bony fingers around the corner of the passageway. With another petrifying moan, the hand was followed by a large, hooded figure, wrapped in black robes and floating off the ground. Even though it didn't appear to have eyes, Hermione felt the beast stare at her and she stared right back at it. It reached out its arm with a groan and hovered towards her but Hermione snapped out of her terror and raised her wand.
"Stupefy!" She cried and the charm hit its mark but didn't appear to do anything other than vanish into the robes of the creature which was still pressing on towards her. Not wanting to be trapped with whatever it was, Hermione ran for the door and managed to get a good head start on the beast, but fear struck her heart like a stake once more as she heard the beast make chase. Adrenaline fueling her entirely, Hermione dared not let her legs give up for even a moment, the creature hurtling after her down the dim corridor as she mentally tried to remember the path she had taken. Then an echo chimed down the corridor and Hermione recognised it as Sirius' voice. She couldn't tell what he had said but it didn't matter as long as she could reach him, he would know the spell to send the creature away. That was, of course, if he decided to save her; if what she feared was true then perhaps Sirius wasn't as good and kind a person as she had thought him to be. Maybe he wouldn't want any witnesses to his dark secrets. Hermione tried not to give those thoughts any truth but it was hard not to with what she had seen since returning to the Manor that night. She just wanted to get out of there, to get back to Harry and forget everything she had seen.
Suddenly Hermione saw a light ahead of her, cast down a passageway that led left of her and appeared to go upwards too. It was the stairs to Harry's office, as long as she could reach them in time then she could get Sirius' attention. With a final burst of hope and speed, Hermione wasted no momentum when she reached the stairs and immediately began racing up them towards the light at the summit. She tried to call out to Sirius, who she could see just stepping out of the darkness and back into the Manor, but she had no breath to make any noise at all, let alone a yell. Hermione's stomach seemed to plummet as she saw the passageway ahead of her begin to close and she was far from the top of the stairs by the time it had sealed entirely.
"Kanakri! Kanakri!" Hermione panted as the hit the wall with her hand, begging it to open. She tried to call out to Sirius again but her voice was weak enough without trying to battle through a stone wall too. Why wasn't the wall opening again? Had she said the command wrong? These worries were quickly driven from her mind, however, as the creature's cry echoed up the stairs and she knew she only had seconds left before it caught her.
"Expelliarmus! Reducto! Petrificus-" Hermione reeled off as many spells as she could think of and watched them all shoot down the stairs towards the creature but none stopped it or even appeared to do it any harm at all, until the cloaked beast reached her and immediately grabbed her throat, lifting her up against the wall. What little breath Hermione had was driven from her as the creature began to choke her, and then it made a long, slow noise like it was inhaling deeply bit it wasn't air that the beast was drawing in. Hermione suddenly felt the most horrible feeling of hopelessness and sorrow as her eyes began to close. Horrible thoughts and memories echoed in her mind, tormenting her; Harry bleeding out on the Weasley's kitchen table, his face clenched in pain, her boggart form shrieking in her face, thee boys and girls at her old school abandoning her, bullying her, casting her out. But Hermione wasn't going to let herself sink like that. She forced herself to push those memories aside, to remember Harry laughing with her, she conjured Luna to the forefront of her mind too, her first friend in years that had helped her understand herself, she thought of Hogwarts and the adventures it still held for her. The creature seemed to sense what Hermione was doing and doubled its efforts, tightening its grip on her neck and sucking the air harder, but Hermione had had enough of the beast so she did the only thing her mind could tell her to do. She clenched her hand into a fist and struck right at where the creature's face should be beneath the hood and fell to the stone floor with a thud as the thing reeled back, apparantly not in pain but disoriented. Winded and still trying to regain her mind fully, Hermione felt like she was acting without thought as she grabbed her wand and aimed it at the wall behind her.
"Bombarda... maxima," she choked but it seemed to be enough as there was a deafening explosion and suddenly the passage was flooded with light.
"What in the-! Hermione?!" came a voice from somewhere that Hermione could not see, her head having collapsed with the rest of her body, drained of all energy.
"Expecto Patronum!" cried another voice and even through Hermione's closed eyes she could see the blinding white light that shot towards her and must have carried the creature away from her as its hollow moans flitted back down the stairway. "Merlin's beard, Hermione! Are you alright?"
Hermione could not speak but nodded weakly as she felt herself being lifted into the air and carried to one of the sofas in Harry's office where she slumped against the backboard and the armrest, trying to get her breath back. She finally opened her eyes and saw both Sirius and Remus sat in front of her, worry in their eyes, though Hermione couldn't meet Sirius'.
"Here, catch your breath, then eat this, it'll help," Remus said as took some chocolate from his pocket and handed it to Hermione who slowly took it.
"I saw... the body... and the room with the mirror," Hermione said as she regained her breath and her gaze fell upon Sirius who exchanged a tense glance with Remus.
"Why don't you, err, grab Hermione a drink, Sirius?" Remus suggested.
"Good idea," Sirius said and quickly left the room as Remus returned his eyes to Hermione with a kind smile.
"I know how it must look, Hermione, but Sirius is not a murderer if that's what you're thinking-"
"Then why was he taking a body into a secret basement? And what the hell was that... thing?!" Hermione blurted out but immediately regretted it as she ran out of breath far too quickly.
"Please, let me explain," Remus said and when Hermione did not respond, he continued. "The man you saw Sirius take down there was an Azkaban prisoner with a life sentence who willingly made a deal with us to come here. Harry is sometimes in need of someone... expendable, and people in Azkaban know they're going to die there. Understand, Hermione, we don't kidnap these people against their will, they are aware of what they're getting into and their families are always well compensated."
"That man isn't the first to be taken down there? What does Harry do with them? What's he going to do with him?" Hermione asked.
"I can't tell you that, Hermione, mainly because I don't entirely know myself, but I know it's not for pleasure. He's not sadistic. Everything he uses them for is in the pursuit of knowledge, making sure an experimental potion works or how dangerous a new spell is, but he always tries to make sure they come out alive if he can. Trust me, Hermione... I've seen him come out of there inconsolable before because something's gone wrong."
Hermione took a second to process everything. She supposed that if they were going to die anyway then maybe it was better this way, but she didn't really like the idea of humans being used as guinea pigs, even if they did consent to it.
"Now as for the Dementor - the cloaked creature you just escaped from - it's a foul being that feeds upon happy memories and any positive feeling you can feel, draining you of everything until you're left with nothing but your worst thoughts. They guard Azkaban and they're the main reason people there die. They don't kill the them, per se, the prisoners just... lose the will to live. But even that's better than the Kiss."
"The Kiss?" Hermione asked, taking a small bite of the chocolate Remus had handed to her, who looked slightly uncomfortable.
"The Kiss is... it's when a Dementor... it sucks out your soul," he said with a small shiver.
"So you die?" Hermione pressed.
"No, no, much worse than dying. You're still alive but you're a... a shell, there's no life in you, you simply... exist," Remus said.
"Why the hell do you have one here then?" Hermione asked.
"Because of me," Sirius said from the doorway, a glass of water in hand.
"Sirius, you don't have to-" Remus said but Sirius cut him off as he handed Hermione the drink.
"It's okay, Remus," Sirius said, sitting beside Remus again and looking softly at Hermione. He seemed calm but when he spoke there was a small shake to his voice and he seemed to have trouble finding the right words to say. "A long time ago I was... very good friends with someone, outside of our little group of misfits. This person was very dear to me... I loved them, very much. But my family didn't approve, not that they approved of anything I did, but this was especially abhorrent to them. Worst of them all was my cousin Bellatrix, the evil bitch. She would never shut up about it, how disgusting it was, how... unnatural. Then, when the war broke out and we all picked our sides, she made it her personal mission to rip me of the happiness this person gave me in the only way she knew how. One night we were on patrol with some Ministry officials when she and a few other Death Eaters attacked. I didn't know it was her until it was too late. She... she..." Sirius tried to speak through gritted teeth but couldn't bring himself to say the words.
"I understand," Hermione said and Sirius calmed himself slowly, eventually speaking again.
"If I could have swapped places with them, I would have done in a heartbeat. Bellatrix got away and I was left with a hole in my heart. Then Voldemort fell and Bellatrix was sent to Azkaban, a punishment not befitting of her crimes. So, when Harry was older and amassed some influence with the ministry, I asked him to build the cell you found and have Bellatrix brought here, so she could receive justice. She thought this was perfect, that she was going to escape within minutes of us putting her in there but she didn't realise just how cunning Harry was, even then. If Harry doesn't want you escaping that room then you don't, it's as simple as that, and dear Bellatrix learned that the hard way. In time I got to watch her slip into insanity, see her melt away right in front of me and then, when the time came, I watched as the last flicker of life vanished from her eyes. Revenge is never a good idea, Hermione, remember that... but there are some things that can never be forgotten. One day, when you love someone that much, you'll understand what I mean."
There was silence for a while as everyone processed what had just been said and Remus placed one arm around Sirius' shoulders in a small embrace.
"I'm so sorry, Sirius," Hermione whispered, not meaning to be so quiet but unable to speak confidently.
"It was a long time ago," Sirius said, shaking his head gently. "But please don't think poorly of Harry for my request of him. We all have light and dark in us, Hermione, and I try to stay in the light... but sometimes we slip..."
Hermione nodded in understanding and silence fell again, then Hermione remembered something from the room that had baffled her.
"The mirror?" she asked. "What is it?"
"Ah," said Remus, gently. "That would be the Mirror of Erised. It shows us what our heart desires above everything else. I won't ask you what you saw in it, Hermione, don't worry. Harry used to keep it up here in the Manor, as a sort of conversation starter, but it can be dangerous and Harry feared some crazed collector or fanatic would try to steal it so he hid it, and then when the cell was built we thought it would be a good idea to place it in there to... well to-"
"To torture them?" Hermione finished the sentence for him and when Remus looked defensive, she quickly added, "I don't blame you, I'd probably do it too."
Suddenly there were footsteps from the hallway outside making their way quickly to the office. Remus and Sirius looked to Hermione who assured them that it was fine that Harry knew what had happened just in time for Harry to turn the corner and catch sight of the scene before him, his fireplace blasted across the room and Hermione, Sirius and Lupin sat together like all was fine.
"What in the name of Dedalus Diggle's left arse cheek happened here?" Harry asked, scanning the room. "Is everyone alright?"
"Everyone's fine, Harry," Remus said as the group stood and moved to meet Harry at the doorway.
"Hermione followed me and our unconscious friend down to the sub-levels," Sirius explained and Harry's eyes and mouth widened in surprise and concern but Hermione cut him off before he could say anything.
"It's fine, Harry," she said, taking his hand as she did. "I'm fine, they explained everything to me."
"Well, there's still some things down there we haven't mentioned but we'll leave those bedtime stories for another time, I think," Remus said and Hermione giggled as Harry's face seemed unsure which expression to display.
"W-well, if everything's okay then... everything's okay," he said, searching for things to say. "Why is my fireplace not affixed to the wall?"
"It's a long story," Sirius said as Remus waved his wand and the fireplace repaired itself. "Now, I think it's a good idea if we all headed off to bed."
"I concur," Remus agreed.
"Same here," Hermione said with a smile.
"Umm... sure," Harry said as the four of them left the office and closed the door behind them.
"You know, it's weird seeing you in your full school robes," Hermione said as she walked with Harry arm in arm into the Great Hall.
"It feels weird," Harry replied, glancing down at his black robes with green trimming, "I only really wear the full set when circumstances require me too. Now remember, we have to sit at our house tables tonight."
"But I like sitting with you," Hermione moaned coyly.
"I know, so do I, but it's only for tonight, then you can go back to force-feeding me bacon in the morning."
"You don't eat enough!"
"I eat plenty, thank you very much."
"Not for you and the big bad wolf, you don't," Hermione whispered into Harry's ear, who laughed but also gave a quick glance around the pair to make sure nobody was in earshot to hear it.
"Enough teasing, Miss Granger, off with you to your table, I'll see you later," Harry said and with a quick kiss Hermione left to take a seat beside Ginny and the other Weasleys as Harry found a seat beside Pansy across the Hall.
The students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had arrived earlier that very day but had kept very much to themselves until now, as all of the visiting students filed into the Great Hall along with the Hogwarts students and took seats at their chosen tables, the Durmstrangs amongst the Slytherins and the Beauxbatons with the Ravenclaws. Hermione recognised Victor Krum sat beside Draco Malfoy of all people and almost had to hold onto Ginny's robes to stop her from dashing over to Krum. Luna seemed to be eyeing up a pretty, blonde girl some seats away from her and when Hermione focused a little more she understood why - she was a veela, she could sense it now it seemed almost obvious. Hermione wondered if any of the other students from the visiting schools were veela but just as she did Dumbledore took to his podium.
"Your attention please!" he called out and a hush fell upon the Hall. "Later this evening, as I'm sure you've guessed, I will have a very special announcement which I'm sure some of the more perceptive of you will have also already guessed, but there's enough time for that later. Let us now enjoy a hearty meal with our fellow witches and wizards from around the world and enjoy each other's company for a while."
And with that Dumbledore sat himself back down at the staff table and a feast appeared on the tables before them. Hermione took a moment to glance across the many new faces that had appeared around the staff table, including who she assumed were the heads of the visiting schools as well as several Ministry officials, including the Minister of Magic. Of course, Hermione and the Weasleys knew that it was the Triwizard Tournament that was set to be announced but they agreed not to discuss it in case there were prying ears nearby. Instead they swapped stories of their classes so far and, in particular, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Alastair Moody.
"I met him once, at the Manor," Hermione said. "He was stepping in for Snape training Harry in something. Occlumency, I think he said?"
"He's mad," said Fred.
"Auror," said George. "Probably filled most of the cells in Azkaban on his own."
"He seems fine in my classes," Ginny put in, "a bit off, maybe, but mad? I don't think so."
"Easy for you to say, he didn't threaten to burn your ears the same colour as your hair for forgetting the wand movement of the Leg-Locker curse," Ron said and they all laughed. Hermione didn't know how long the feast went on for but she did catch herself looking at Harry at least three times and cursing under her breath that he wasn't eating. Before long, however, Dumbledore's voice called out again and all eyes turned to him as the candelabras in the Great Hall dimmed.
"Well wasn't that a wonderful meal?" Dumbledore said and didn't seem to pay any attention to the look of dismay on the faces of several Beauxbatons students who evidently didn't think it was a particularly good feast. "Now that we're all settled in and our bellies are full, I think it's time I reveal to you all why we have some new friends with us this year. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen as the first school to host the revived Triwizard Tournament, in which three schools come together and select a champion to represent them in three tasks, the winner of which will be crowned the Triwizard champion and win eternal glory as well as a prize of one thousand galleons, a life changing sum of money... to some, that is." Hermione thought Dumbledore's eyes moved towards Harry, who was smirking, when he added the last part on. "Now it's important I warn you, that while there is no age limit on who can submit their names to the Tournament, know that your age will not be taken into account during the trial; all tasks are dangerous and potentially life-threatening, many a brave student has died at the hands of the Triwizard Tournament so it's not a decision to be taken lightly. If chosen, you are magically bound to participate, there's no backing out. But how do we select our champion, you might ask? Well, for that we use a very powerful magical object that we call... the Goblet of Fire!" Dumbledore said as he turned dramatically to reveal a large, stone chalice which immediately began to burn blue flames. Anyone wishing to submit themselves for consideration need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and place it into the Goblet before the night of Halloween, when the champions will be selected. Now I urge you to take caution and spend some time thinking before you make your choice, contact relatives and get their advice, but for those of you too eager for such things who have already made up your minds, you'll be glad to know that you can submit your name... now. The Tournament has already begun."
The Great Hall fell into silence and nobody moved, everyone too anxious to do anything.
"Come on," Cornelius Fudge called out to the Hall, catching everyone by surprise. "Surely someone wants to be the first person to submit their name?"
There was some shuffling as less than a dozen students from across all three schools slowly stood but didn't take a step towards the cup. Then there was the noise of a bench moving slightly and Hermione's eyes moved to Harry and her breath caught in her throat as she saw that he, too, had stood up. Not only that but several of the other students had sat back down again upon seeing him stand. Ginny gently grabbed Hermione's hand, sensing her tension. Harry, his signature, casual smile on display, stepped back from the Slytherin table and approached the Goblet, parchment in hand. He was only a few yards away when rushed footsteps followed him and the entire Hall turned to see Krum marching towards the Goblet too. Harry stood, waiting for Krum to approach and, when Krum stopped by Harry's side with an aggressive stare, extended his arm towards the cup, inviting Krum to go first. Krum huffed and threw his parchment into the fire with an eruption of applause from the Durmstrang students. Harry bowed his head politely as Krum brushed past him, his smile never faltering, and once Krum had left gently cast his own parchment into the flames. There were louder cheers for him than Krum and Hermione noticed that the Minister seemed to be almost hysterical with glee. More people came forward to submit their names now, many that Hermione didn't know, though Harry seemed to recognise most of them. He stood and talked for a while with Cedric Diggory, who Hermione recognised from the World Cup and was also submitting his name. Slowly the students sat themselves back down again and Dumbledore reminded them that there was still time to decide, of course, and that the Cup had final say on the chosen Champion. With that the feast ended and the students began to file out of the Great Hall again, Hermione quickly finding her way over to Harry.
"Do you think you'll win?" She asked quickly.
"Do you doubt me?" Harry asked after observing her for a moment.
"No! I just... I'm scared for you. I don't want to lose you."
"That's not going to happen," Harry said, kissing Hermione's forehead lightly, "I promise. I'll win. Or, at the very least, I'll live."
"You'd better," Hermione said in a stern voice she only half meant and locked her arm with Harry's as they left the Hall together.
Peter was sweating hard and the chill of the night didn't help either. He didn't know how long he'd been out digging but it had felt like an eternity to his aching back. His master had insisted that magic mustn't be used for this task, in case a muggle happened to be passing by and spotted him, the last thing they needed was attention. Peter thought that if there was a muggle about - or anyone for that matter - it would look more suspicious if a strange man was digging a secret grave when magic would make the whole process go faster and therefore he'd be less likely to be found, but he knew better than to question his master. And so he dug for hours and hours, digging a brand new grave among the others in the graveyard that was just a stone's throw away from his master's family home.
Finally, he climbed back out of the hole in the ground and stood over the corpse that was to fill it.
"I'm sorry, old man," Peter said as he grabbed the corpse's feet and dragged it to the grave, pushing him in with a sickening crack and thud. As Peter began to shovel the dirt back on top of the old man's lifeless body, he couldn't help but appreciate the fact that the closet in the house wouldn't stink anymore now that they had no more use of him. Before long the grave was filled once more and Peter grabbed the shovel and headed back towards the Manor. As he did, he stopped before the grave of his master's father, his namesake, and brushed the dirt and dust from the tombstone.
TOM RIDDLE
1905-1943
Peter couldn't help but wonder what could have possibly happened between this man and his master's mother to create him. What dominoes fell to lead them all here? Deciding not to risk upsetting his master further, Peter cast these thoughts from his mind and made his way back to the house, albeit not as fast as he probably could have.
Harry shot up in bed, a cold sweat on his brow. It was still dark out, probably no later than three in the morning. He glanced down at his side where Hermione lay, peaceful and blissfully asleep. He calmed his breathing and gently swung himself off the bed, grabbing his phone as he did and dialing the number he seemed to be calling all too often now. There was no answer, of course, he had expected that, so he left a message in the hopes that he'd get a reply by the morning.
"Tonks, it's me, call me back when you can... let me know if we still have eyes on the Riddle House..."
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as usual feel free to leave a review and follow/favourite, they're all appreciated. Also I apologise again for any typos and such, you should know by now I'm a terrible proof-reader. Stay safe.