Dark ambered mahogany creaked under gentle footsteps as Hermione ventured through the narrow aisle, the floorboards worn and misshapen from years of supporting the weight of the curious few that ever wandered this far. Endless stacks towered over her on either side, rising to the lancet arched ceilings overhead, only a glimpse of the promised infinities of knowledge held within these stone walls. This deep inside, natural sunlight was a scarce resource and the comforting scent of old wood, parchment, and ink grew more prominent with every step, filling her nostrils with every quiet inhale.
Here, Hermione lingered, suspended with no concept of time, space, or consequence. Here, the power of memories prevailed, captured within each page of every book.
She continued walking down the aisle, her fingertips ghosting over book spines. As her feet led her down one path, her mind carried her towards another. The bookshelves shifted in front of her, bending to her whims, the walls closing and opening, transforming before her eyes. She moved instinctually between the ever-changing timber-walled labyrinths, her legs unfaltering as everything fell into place around her.
Her memory continued to serve her well.
She was almost at the end of her daily stroll when her ears caught the sound of rustling paper. It was quiet but insistent and beat rhythmically like the fluttering wings of a hummingbird. A ghost of a touch brushed against her finger. She looked down. Nothing was there.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her senses. Around her, the air shifted and rippled. A loud crack split through the air. Then another. Slowly, the walls gave away, the stone bricks crumbling down one by one like sand, revealing sunlit paper screens and low rows of wooden cubbies stuffed with olden scrolls. A light scent of incense wafted through the air from the long-term exposure of inksticks and inkstones as quiet sounds of background ambience fluttered to life in her ears — the world welcoming her back from the confines of her mind.
Whilst she stood previously, she now sat on a mat in front of a small private table near the back of the main study area in the Mahoutokoro library away from curious eyes. A persistent paper crane pecked at the back of her hand — the source of her disturbance.
She flipped her hand over and the crane flapped into her open palm, unfolding itself and revealing a hastily written message in Harry's messy scrawl.
Front courtyard. Now.
Hermione flipped the piece of paper over, hoping for more context. It was blank. Fighting back a sigh, Hermione gathered her things and sped towards her summoned destination, the image of dusty tomes and untouched books lingering in the back of her mind.
The courtyard was bustling with activity by the time she arrived. A large crowd of Mahoutokoro students had gathered in the middle, their necks craned all the way back, fingers pointing up at the skies, lips whispering excitedly, and eyes squinting into the spring sun.
Hermione followed their lines of sight, wondering what they were all looking at. After several moments of seeing nothing but blinding sunlight, she averted her gaze, rapidly blinking away the black spots that had formed in her vision. She scanned the courtyard, looking for Draco and Harry amidst the busy crowd. Thankfully, they weren't hard to spot with Draco's platinum blonde hair acting like a homing beacon underneath the harsh glare of the sun.
She made her way over, careful to note the presence of the other teams nearby. Durmstrang, Uagadou, Castelobruxo, and Ilvermorny were all present, each donning their unique school colors. A few of them flew around in lazy circles atop of their brooms and— was that a magical flying carpet? —but surprisingly, they were not the main point of fixation.
Hermione swept her gaze across the courtyard again. No sign of Beauxbatons blue. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. The memory of last night's bizarre conversation still burned freshly in her mind. She had no more of an idea what to make of it anymore than she did yesterday.
Erasing a certain French witch from her thoughts, she hurried over to Harry and Draco, her curiosity over the urgent note taking precedent.
"What's going on?"
Harry spared her a quick glance, his lips lifting in greeting. "You got here just in time," he said, prompting her to look up. "One of the Ilvermorny girls challenged Krum to a race around the island."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. A broom race around the island two days before the task? That wasn't very subtle.
"Was it Cho Chang?"
Harry shook his head. "The other one."
"Angelina Johnson?" Hermione recalled seeing the name pinned to one of the rooms.
"Yeah, her. She's a pretty decent flyer from what I've seen so far. Ilvermorny will be hard to beat in the first task if they're all as good as her."
'As will every other school,' thought Hermione. She was willing to bet a galleon or two that she was probably one of the worst fliers in the competition, though that wasn't saying much. Did the Uagadou team have a spare flying carpet she could use? They looked much more comfortable to ride than these blasted enchanted sticks.
"She's downright delusional if she thinks she can outfly Krum in a race like this though," Malfoy interjected.
Hermione shot him an irritated glance. "I never fancied you to be such a fanboy, Draco."
Draco scowled. He opened his mouth to respond when an excited shout cut through the air. One of the more sharp-eyed Mahoutokoro students had spotted something.
"Mite!"
Hermione shielded her eyes with her palm and squinted into the clear skies. She could just make out two approaching dots in the distance, each no larger than a freckle but steadily growing bigger by the second. The crowd burst into cheers as the figures of Viktor and Angelina focused into view.
"Krum is going to smoke her," Draco said smugly.
"She's not even that far behind," Harry protested.
And Harry was right. The race was tighter than Hermione had expected. Viktor led by only a breadth of a second, which for all the praise that Ron and apparently Draco sang about him, felt rather lackluster. Angelina was right at the tailend of his robes, barely giving him any leeway.
'They're fast,' thought Hermione. 'Really fast.'
They zipped past overhead, leaving a harsh gust of wind in their wake. Hermione chased after them with her eyes, squinting past the flurry of loose pink petals that danced in the air, as a hint of nudging suspicion poked at the corners of her mind.
The Durmstrang team broke into cheers as Viktor finished first. Green and yellow sparks shot into the air as he dove into a celebratory dive, pulling away dangerously at the last second and drawing more cheers from the watching crowd.
"A Wronski feint," Harry murmured under his breath.
"As expected of an International Quidditch star," Draco said proudly as if he'd been the one to win.
Viktor raised his fist in victory. "Anyvon else?" he shouted, searching the crowd for other challengers. His grin was confident, almost cocky and perhaps deservedly so, as he egged them on.
Harry and Draco exchanged a look.
"No," Hermione interjected, before either of them could say anything. "Absolutely not."
There was, in Hermione's correct opinion, absolutely zero reason for them to step up to the challenge. This was clearly an intimidation tactic, an attempt for Viktor to show off while psyching out his competitors before the first task. Their efforts would be much better placed into developing their team strategies and planning out the route they were going to take rather than trying to beat Viktor in a one on one race.
But of course like always, her opinion was ignored.
"Let's hope you don't bring shame to your father's name, Potter. Whoever loses is a useless flobberworm," Draco taunted as he lifted himself into the sky on his broom.
"Harry, you're not actually going to fall for that, are you-"
Harry took off into the air after Draco, ignoring Hermione's protests.
She stared at them in exasperation. "Boys," she muttered under her breath.
Viktor smirked as they approached, his confident gaze catching Hermione's unimpressed one from the ground. He raised an eyebrow in silent question and nodded his head slightly to the left in silent provocation.
"And you?" he seemed to say.
Hermione slipped her hands into her robe pockets, keeping her stance firmly planted on the ground as she returned his stare. She wasn't tempted in the least. She had nothing to prove.
Viktor nodded at her cool rejection, shooting her an unreadable smirk before turning towards his challengers. Several others had joined in on the friendly race, including a few Mahoutokoro students who were eager to face the foreign champion. Angelina Johnson was ready to take another shot at it, undeterred by her earlier loss. This time, she was accompanied by her teammates, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory, who both looked like they knew how to handle a broom with ease.
The other champions stayed on the ground whispering amongst themselves, preferring to watch rather than participate much to Hermione's dismay. She would've liked a closer look at Uagadou's magical flying carpet. How fast could it go? How many people could it carry? How smoothly could it turn? Up until a few moments ago, she'd thought the flying carpet was just another silly muggle myth.
Briefly, she wondered how they would respond if she just walked up and asked them these questions. Would they share their knowledge in the spirit of inter-scholastic relationship building? Hermione was tempted to try her luck.
"To think we almost missed the fun!"
Hermione startled at the French behind her. The Beauxbatons team emerged from the pagoda, quickly taking in the excitement before them. Hermione found herself frozen in place, struck by the random realization that this was her first time seeing Fleur outside in natural lighting. Sunlight seemed to bend around her, enveloping her in a warm spring glow. Her silvery blonde hair shimmered as if every strand was imbued with magic. Knowing what she'd read of Fleur's background in the papers, perhaps that notion wasn't as far fetched as it seemed.
"It looks like they're racing! Do you think we should join?" Adelise asked Fleur with an eager grin.
Instead of answering, Fleur flickered her gaze over to Hermione, who realized too late that she'd been staring.
"Are you not going to join zem?"
"No," Hermione responded cautiously. "Are you?" She searched the blonde for any indication of what last night could've been about but found no clues written on her face.
Fleur looked up at the small group that had gathered in the sky and tilted her head in thought, her blue eyes flashing with inscrutable intensity.
"I think I will."
She pulled out her wand and swiftly performed the strokes for a summoning charm. A small hum of appreciation involuntarily escaped Hermione's lips at the cleanliness of her execution before she could stop herself.
Fleur flipped her hair over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hermione. A confident smirk donned her lips as if she'd heard Hermione's quiet approval. She raised a single eyebrow.
"I 'ave been wanting to see Monsieur Krum's flying skills up close for myself. Now is ze perfect opportunity, non?"
Before Hermione could answer, Fleur took off into a running start, brushing past Hermione in a blur. She leapt into the air, angling her body sideways and bringing her knees up. Panic and bewilderment crept up Hermione's chest as Fleur fell towards the ground.
"What!—"
The warning shout died in Hermione's throat as a broom appeared out of nowhere, flying past Hermione in a blur and ruffling her skirt. It smoothly caught Fleur's descent and carried her off. Fleur side-saddled the broom as if it were child's play and joined the others at the starting line.
Hermione's breath remained stuck between her teeth as she watched Fleur glide weightlessly through the air. A part of her couldn't help but stare. There was a carefreeness to Fleur's movements, an ease to her posture and expression that wasn't there before, almost as if she belonged there in the sky with the wind blowing through her clothes and petals flying through her hair.
She looked freer somehow. The thought struck Hermione quiet.
"Fleur sure likes to show off, doesn't she?"
Hermione startled as Adelise slid up on her left side.
"She certainly iz not one to lose," Matheo agreed on the other side of Adelise, shooting Hermione a friendly but polite smile.
Hermione nodded at him, shifting her weight to the right and subtly drawing a bit more distance between her and the French team.
Matheo nudged Adelise playfully with his elbow. "I bet you one bezant that the princess will win the race."
"So low, Matheo? Where is your confidence? I'll bet you two."
"Deal."
Hermione looked away, pretending like she couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. Up in the sky, the racers organized themselves into a line. The other Durmstrang boy, a tall, sturdily built lad with gelled-back brown hair — his name was Aleksi if Hermione recalled correctly — came forward once everyone was in place and raised his wand.
"Gotovi!" he bellowed in his deep voice. "Start!"
With a shower of green sparks, the flyers took off, leaving the crowd cheering loudly behind them.
The fight for the lead was intense right off the bat. Viktor, as expected, was a top contender, alongside Fleur and Angelina. Everyone else was clumped behind them, fighting to get an early edge.
Slowly, Viktor took the lead, his gap widening as the race continued. Fleur stayed right by his side, refusing to let him pull away so easily. The two of them sped ahead of the others. It was only then that Hermione realized that Viktor had purposefully slowed his speed last race, teasing Angelina with a seemingly possible win. She couldn't decide if that was cruel or thoughtful of him.
Pulling her gaze away from the two of them, Hermione scanned the clump for Harry and Draco but couldn't single them out from the group. Her eyes were too slow to follow as the fliers looped around the back of the island. It wasn't until most of them had disappeared behind the cover of the trees that she realized why she hadn't seen them.
She'd been too focused on the fliers in the front.
Draco and Harry were all the way in the back.
Cursing under her breath, Hermione turned her focus to the other side of the island where they were supposed to reappear. She quickly scanned the distance. Her eyes caught the forest edge and she slipped her wand out past her sleeve.
She spared a glance at the French team beside her, wondering if they'd noticed her movements. She wasn't cheating per se, but she didn't want to chance them getting in the way either. Thankfully, they both seemed to have their attentions elsewhere, discussing something in low tones that Hermione couldn't quite make out the words of.
Five tense minutes passed as Hermione waited in agony. The racers reappeared on the other side of the island. Viktor and Fleur were noticeably in the lead, far ahead of the others, with Cedric and Angelina next in the order.
Hermione held her breath, counting the seconds until Harry and Draco appeared. Every moment that passed felt like an eternity and Hermione could feel the desperation building up inside of her until finally the two boys appeared, bringing up the rear in the lineup of champions.
A stone dropped in the pit of her stomach. In all her years of knowing Harry, she'd never seen him lose so drastically in a broom race before. He'd been practically raised on a broom. Flying was his element. And yet—
As Viktor and Fleur passed the forest line, Hermione flicked her wrist in three sharp movements. She traced their path to the finish line, flicking her wand again as soon as green sparks erupted into the air, signaling the end of the race.
Four red numbers appeared in front of her. She burned them into her memory before slashing her hand through the apparition. It was only then that Harry and Draco finished the race, the look on their faces grim.
Biting back a sigh, Hermione slipped her wand back into its holster, scanning the courtyard for any wandering eyes. Right next to her, Matheo watched her with a quiet intensity. So she had been noticed. Hermione raised an eyebrow, challenging him to speak up. Their staring contest was interrupted by the loud cheers of the crowd as Viktor once more dipped into a victory dive.
He beat Fleur in the end, shooting forward in a final burst and securing his lead. His grin had turned more smug as he faced the crowd of Mahoutokoro students who cheered him on. Even Hermione had to admit that he was an impressive flyer.
Fleur didn't seem too ruffled by her loss. She floated down to her friends, a thoughtful look on her face, as her hair flowed behind her in long golden waves. As she landed, her hair stayed in its perfect condition, barely a strand out of place from being windswept. Hermione briefly wondered how it was possible. Magic. It had to be magic.
Fleur barely glanced at Hermione as she brushed past her to her teammates. They immediately muttered to each other in low tones that Hermione couldn't hear.
Hermione pulled her gaze away as Harry and Draco descended towards her, their faces giving away their sentiments about the race results.
She matched their grim expressions. "We have a slight problem."
Draco scowled at her. "You think?"
Hermione led the boys into the Mahoutokoro library, past the main study area, and into a private room on the side. As she slid the wooden doors closed behind them, the red cylindrical paper lantern that hung by the doorframe lit up, indicating its occupied status.
"Silencio."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at Draco.
"You can never be too careful," he said ominously.
He took one glance at the low rise table and the flat cushions in the middle of the room and wrinkled his nose. With a wave of his wand, he transfigured them into three large plush armchairs. He sat down in his choice of seat, coincidentally the biggest one, and crossed his legs, chin tucked in anger as he stared into the ground.
Harry plopped down next to him, looking half dazed and half indignant. Hermione stayed standing, too riled up to sit for the moment. The three of them remained in silence, as their minds tried to process what had just happened. The air thickened with tension, bearing heavily down upon them until finally, Draco couldn't take it any longer.
"They cheated. They have to be cheating!" Draco declared, jumping to his feet, as he began to pace through the room. "There is no way I would have ever lost that badly," he said, pointing to nothing in particular.
Hermione took a calming breath. "And how were they cheating exactly?" The official rules allowed for any non-living flying apparatuses in the broom race. Besides that, anything went. Let it be noted that the Triwizard Tournament, much to Hermione's frustration, wasn't exactly known for having strict rules except when it pertained to participation.
Draco stomped closer until he was practically breathing down her face. "I don't know, but I will find out," he seethed.
"That's enough." Harry pulled Draco out of Hermione's face. "Mione, you were watching the race. Did anything look out of sorts?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not really. Did anything feel out of the ordinary in the air?"
Harry frowned. "I don't think so. But I've never felt so helpless in a race before. Is it our brooms?" he asked. "Are our brooms just slower than everyone else's?"
"Are our brooms slower than everyone else's?" Draco repeated slowly. "It's a wonder your father is a famous Quidditch player, Potter. You haven't got a pinch of his talent. Everyone knows the Firebolt is the fastest broom on the market."
"On the British market maybe," Hermione interjected.
Draco barely spared her a glance. "Please, Granger. You may have your booksmarts and all that but which one of us has actually won a Quidditch cup for their house?"
Hermione clenched her jaw, barely holding back her anger. Why did he have to be such an insufferable little–
"That's what I thought."
"Actually," Harry cut in coldly, "the Chidori X70 has been shown to go almost 260 kilometers per hour in ten seconds. That's a faster acceleration than the Firebolt. Not to mention it's supposed to have better braking and smoother mid-flight directional control."
Hermione and Draco stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.
"Looks like I learned something from my dad after all," Harry said pointedly.
Hermione had never felt so proud.
"You wouldn't also happen to know anything about magical carpets, would you?" she asked, daring to hope.
"Er, no. They're not exactly allowed in Quidditch," said Harry. "And uh, just so you know, they're not the only unknown we're dealing with here unfortunately."
"What do you mean?"
"The Chinese team uses these...these giant calligraphy brushes?" he gestured wildly with his hands. "They were practicing in the morning and left when everyone started to come outside."
"And you didn't think to call me?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"You told us not to disturb you unless it was important!"
"I think this counts as important!"
"Can we focus here?" Draco snapped. He was starting to miss Crabbe and Goyle. Just barely.
"Look," said Hermione. "The speed of the broom technically isn't everything in a broom race. It's always the smart flyer that wins, not the fastest. There's so many other factors involved in a race as long as this one that even with a slower broom, we could end up winning. But in a straight sprint for the finish, we would be at a disadvantage." Hermione pursed her lips. "I have an idea that might help us bridge that disadvantage though. Harry, do you remember when Sirius sent you a Firebolt in our third year and forgot to put his name on the package?"
"Yeah, Professor McGonagall seized it and performed a bunch of tests on it to see if it was cursed or something. Why?" Harry grumbled, somehow still holding a minor grudge over the incident.
"Do you remember what she said?"
"That there wasn't anything out of the ordinary…?"
"Exactly!"
Harry blinked. He had no idea where she was going with this.
Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "She said that besides the usual protective charms placed onto the brooms, there was nothing out of the ordinary." Both her eyebrows were raised as high as they could go on her forehead, willing him to get it.
Harry did not. "Okay, so?"
"So," Hermione emphasized, "that means that all of our brooms have safety charms placed on them, specifically to keep them at a safe speed. If we remove them…"
"We can fly faster," said Draco, his eyes gleaming with approval. It quickly disappeared, replaced by his usual scowl but he nodded begrudgingly at Hermione. "Not bad, Granger."
"Thanks," she said dryly. "That's the theory anyways. But I wouldn't usually recommend removing protective charms from an object. They're there for a reason, you know. Not to mention, it would be extremely difficult to figure out which charms have been used and how to undo them. And then, we'd still have to test them extensively for safety and somehow accomplish all this in two days."
"One and a half, really," said Harry.
Hermione shot him a look. "Not helping."
"Sorry." He smiled sheepishly. "Anyways, I think my dad can probably help us. He used to talk about how his team liked to personalize their brooms. I can floo him–" He cut himself off, the excitement falling off his face. "We wouldn't have access to the floo network here, would we?"
"What do you think?" Draco crossed his arms.
"Professor McGonagall and I actually came up with a solution for that," Hermione said with a small frown, "but it would take days to set up – days that we don't have."
"Do you still have that mirror thing on you?" Draco asked.
Harry turned to him in surprise, his hand habitually flying to the sown-in inner pocket over his chest where he kept the two-way mirror his father had given him. "How do you know about that?" he asked suspiciously.
"Please," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes and feigning disinterest. "You're not as subtle as you believe."
Harry shared a glance with Hermione, unsure of what to make of that.
"I do have it," he said, pulling the mirror out. "Ron should have the other one. We could get him to talk to my dad and have him convey the information to us."
Hermione and Draco watched as he stared blankly at the mirror in his hand.
"What are you waiting for?" Draco scowled. "Are you suddenly too shy to talk to your boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend," said Harry, visibly confused by Draco's words.
"What are you waiting for?" asked Hermione. "Call him!"
"But it's late over there," Harry reasoned. "He's probably sleeping–"
"Wake him up! We don't have exactly time to waste here!" Hermione urged.
"Okay, okay!" Harry held the mirror to his face. "Ron, Ron! Are you there?"
They waited several seconds. No response.
"Ron? Ron! I need to you to wake up, mate!"
Still no response.
"Oh give me that." Hermione snatched the mirror over. "Ronald! Ronald Weasley! Wake up! Wake up!"
A few seconds later, an exhausted familiar redhead appeared on the surface of the mirror, replacing Harry's reflection.
"Oi, what gives mate?" Ron complained grumpily, as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Do you know how late it is over here?"
"Ron, we need your help," said Harry.
"You better have a good reason for bothering me this late," Ron grumbled, yawning between his words. "I was in the middle of such a pleasant dream."
Harry scrunched his face. "Ew."
"Not like that! I meant—whatever. It's irrelevant. What do you need? Make it quick. I don't know how long I can stay up."
"Listen carefully, alright? I need you to floo my dad. Ask him what he knows about protective charms placed on broomsticks. We're trying to see if we can get rid of some of them in order to get our brooms to go faster."
"Ask him if it would work and how we would even go about removing the charms," Hermione added. "If you can, I would ask Professor Flitwick for help too. He might know something since Charms is his specialty. And Madam Hooch too."
"Hmhmm…"
They watched as Ron's eyes drifted shut.
Harry clicked her tongue. "Oi! Ron? Did you get that? Ron!"
Ron snapped awake. "Yes! Yes." He rubbed his eyes. "Find your dad. Ask him about brooms. I got it."
" –Protection enchantments, speed, safety charms–" Hermione listed.
"Yeah, yeah all the stuff. Don't worry, I got it," Ron yawned into his hands.
"Do it quick, yeah?" said Harry. "We don't have a lot of time. Less than a day."
Ron held up an okay sign, his eyes barely open. "Don't worry. I got you," he slurred.
The mirror went dark. Harry and Hermione stared at Harry's reflection.
"Do you think he got all that?" Hermione asked cautiously.
"I have no idea."
"I cannot believe our plan relies on Weasley," Draco sighed. "We are so screwed."