AN: A crack!oneshot featuring our favorite witch. Draws inspiration from characterizations in fics like "Adorable Violence" – with some obsessive & violent tendencies, at least when it comes to Harry and his safety. This Hermione is not amoral, just very determined and laser focused.
This is unbeta'ed and likely contains many oversights and mistakes. Everything that contradicts canon is conveniently AU. Also 100% for shits and giggles only.
It was the 5th of November and Hermione woke with a start. Angrily she wiped the cold sweat off her brow as reality began to settle. A few days ago her best friend in the whole world, Harry Potter, got selected into one of the most dangerous, not to mention silliest, Magical Tournaments. He was supposed to compete against three much older students in dangerous tasks that used to kill experienced students regularly, before this barbaric spectator sport had been put to rest. Luckily the mangled and broken body of her first and closest friend was only real in her overactive imagination and firmly relegated to her nightmares.
She refused to let these nightmares come to pass.
According to Harry and the oh so responsible adults surrounding him, there was no conceivable way for him to get out of the Tournament, even though he – obviously, duh – hadn't entered his name and had no desire to compete. Anyone who suspected otherwise barely knew Harry Potter at all. Which, to be fair, was hardly surprising: No one really cared enough to get to know the real person behind his moniker and they all seemed to be happy enough to just have their little miracle child in their midst, but admire and idolize him at a distance or, worse, write fake books about his exploits.
If it was left up to Dumbledore (she simply refused to give this man any more respect through use of proper titles in her own inner monologues, thank you very much) Harry was just supposed to suck it up and deal with. Just like every year prior in this hallowed institution then.
Most students would've just accepted this new situation, resigned to "don't fight what you can't change" and moved on from there. Not Hermione Jane Granger though. Grumbling she was reminded that McGonogal still hadn't corrected the unfortunate spelling mistake of her middle name from her initial attendance papers. Apparently it's just too much to ask from the Deputy Head Mistress to file paperwork. Her Granny's name had been Jane, why would her parents name her Jean?
Instead of taking things at face value, she had done her own research and had come to a very different, yet somewhat obvious conclusion about Harry's participation and it had nothing to do with useless technicalities or theory crafting about who entered whom into the Goblet and why.
She imagined that the founders from one of her favorite books would approve of her decision. No one ever realized why Hermione enjoyed reading Hogwarts: A History so much: It was a form of escapism. In that book Hogwarts was all it was supposed to be: Protective, proud, a bastion of learning, lead by noble men and women: Those famous, larger than life characters, who upheld its principles and ideals.
What an utter disappointment and letdown this had turned out to be.
After her first year at this school slash horror show, Hermione quickly came to the conclusion that the Hogwarts of legend was either an exaggerated folk tale, something that should be used as poetic inspiration, or that the school had been skiving off its good reputation for decades, if not centuries.
No matter which, their Hogwarts House being "something like their family" was nothing more than an empty platitude and there was no help for Harry, or for herself for that matter, to be provided by this pitiful institution or any of its teachers, the so called "Professors", who only professed to keeping their heads in the sand. Every year Harry, Hermione and hanger-on "I'm afraid to miss out on some kind of awesome adventure" Ron had been subject to situations that no child attending school should ever be involved in.
She had made a detailed plan, of course, but with a shudder she realized that it was time approach the Weasley twins in order to move things along.
A few hours later Fred Weasley excitedly pushed his twin brother into a broom closet.
"Mate, didn't we agree that we weren't interested in the kind of twincest that only involves ourselves without additional partners?!" exclaimed George.
"Just shut up and read this," said Fred, shoving a crumpled note towards George.
This message will self-destruct in 43 minutes.
While George had been reading the timer jumped from 43 to 42, piquing his interest.
Fred, George,
the international Triwizard Tournament is the opportunity for the biggest prank of the century and I can't pull this one off on my own. Actual fame and fortune await. If you're interested wear mismatched socks tomorrow, if you aren't just ignore this note.
– A marauding friend.
PS: For reference of my competency and expertise I claim responsibility for some of the unfortunate mishaps that befell students two years ago, who claimed Potter was a Dark Lord, just because he could talk to snakes.
George chuckled, "Well this has promise. You know, you didn't have to ask for my opinion, right?"
"Obviously we are getting involved in this," Fred agreed. "I just wanted us to be on the same page."
"If this works it will be an incredible promotion for our future business." George grinned and grasped his twin brothers shoulder, both had happy tears in his eyes.
"Lets give them a show they'll never forget."
One Saturday morning, a few weeks later, she crept through the corridors of Hogwarts, wearing Harry's cloak, approaching a statue of a one-eyed witch and Hermione felt like a terrible friend.
Her sins in that regard were many of course. The least of which was pretending to be entirely platonic with Harry, while secretly lusting after his body and occasionally, when the mood struck, rubbing one out under her blankets. Surrounded by appropriate sound dampening charm work of course. Not that ditsy Lavender wasn't kind of cute in her own way, she even offered a good counter-balance when Hermione tended to over-analyze, but one really needn't share too much with their own dorm mates. Not that Hermione was any kind of prude, she just considered it common courtesy.
Of course, even when being secretive in too many ways to count, she still tried to spend lots of time with her best friend, preparing him for the Tournament, but she couldn't tell him about her plans and it made her feel awful.
Daddy had often talked about the concept of plausible deniability and she had come to the conclusion, that the less Harry knew the better for him. He had enough on his shoulders anyway and if this whole thing went belly up before it even started, she wanted him to be able to earnestly profess that he hadn't been involved at all.
Keeping Harry in the dark was incredibly uncomfortable, as they used to share everything. She tried to keep her mind "on target" as Dad used to say and reminded herself constantly that, when this was over, she would tell Harry whatever he wanted to hear. One way or another this would soon be done, so she stoically bode her time.
30 minutes earlier
Hermione had steeled herself for the upcoming conversation. What she wanted was a tall ask for anyone, especially Harry. She had no good reasons to give, since she had kept him in the dark about everything and what she was about to demand concerned one of his most treasured possessions. The cloak was a family heirloom and one of the few things giving Harry a connection to his deceased parents.
How would he react? She had already prepared some good arguments about their long lasting friendship and how she rarely asked him for a favor. There was also the bargaining chip of offering lots of future Homework help, but even that felt hollow, as she might very well be expelled after all this. Was she supposed to help Harry via owl?! Apropos owls, how was she supposed to pass her OWLs? She didn't want her wand snapped.
Her thoughts went on and on in circles, she hadn't even noticed the figure approaching her in the common room.
"G'mornin', Hermione," greeted Harry. His beautiful green eyes were sparkling with mirth.
"H-Hey Harry," replied Hermione in surprise, "Why are you looking at me funny?"
"You've been worrying your bottom lip, so something's up. Also yesterday you were busy making one of your two paged pro and contra lists, trying to be all secretive. Tell me what's going on," Harry demanded.
Hermione crinkled her brow, grabbed Harry's elbow and quickly pulled him into a secluded corner.
"Listen, I know this is a lot to ask," Hermione took a deep breath.
Harry waited patiently, quite used to her excentricities.
"Ineedtoborrowyourinvisibilitycloakforawholeday," Hermione gasped out, staring at the ground face flushed, clearly embarrassed, "I know I shouldn't ask for something like this and I can't even give you a good reason or go into any details, but there's something I really need to do… and… I promise at some point you'll get to know everything and I'll do your homework for three weeks and… Harry?"
When she looked up there was no more Harry. Where had he gone? Was mad at her for asking for this huge favour? Maybe she should've prepared better? How could she do this without his cloak?
"Here you go," Harry's voice startled her out of her stupor. In his outstretched hand he offered his father's cloak.
Hermione was at a loss for words.
"Your next words are supposed to be 'Thank you'", Harry said.
"Th-thanks," gulped Hermione.
Truancy. Hermione thought in amazement. She had just left Honeydukes and was now making her way through Hogsmeade, still safely hidden under the cloak. Another one to add to her list of soon to be lots of crimes. And Harry, that silly boy, he hadn't even asked why she needed his help.
A quick trip with the Knight Bus later she found herself in the suburbs of her childhood, the priceless cloak carefully folded into her satchel. With confident strides she approached the
Granger lawn. Hermione wore the Granger name with pride, maybe particularly because everything it could stand for was hers to build. She wasn't born a Granger and neither were any of her parents, but they had left their sordid past behind and were now well-adjusted dentists. She felt bad about dragging their parents into this, but needs must.
She quickly gathered herself and rang the doorbell.
Thomas Granger was clearly shocked to find his teenage daughter, who was supposed to be in Scotland, at his doorstep at 9:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. He was a gruff looking man, with a bearded face, broad shoulders and a bit of a limp in his right leg, officially a bad break from a skiing accident. He also had an unflinching stare. Many of Hermione's childhood acquaintances had considered him scary.
"Hi Daddy!" Hermione greeted her father.
Thomas' perplexed expression quickly morphed into a sweet smile that looked out of place on his otherwise quite serious face. "Oh princess, it's so good to see you!" he said, picking her up as if she were five years old and hugged her close.
"Where's mummy?" asked Hermione while buried in the crook of his neck.
"Oh, she's at the practice for an emergency case, she won't be back for two hours," Thomas answered and gently placed Hermione back down. "What the hell are you doing here, muffin?"
"We should talk inside, Dad."
"What do you mean, 'I need to borrow some Semtex?'"
"What do you think it means?" Hermione replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't get cheeky with me, young lady. I can't believe my 15 year-old daughter ran away from school to ask me for explosives!" Thomas shuddered and placed his heads in his hands, slumping forward.
Hermione quickly sat next to him on the couch, hugging him from the side. "I'm so sorry to bring this up, but it's really important."
"I can't believe this," Thomas repeated. "What made you think I could procure fucking Semtex for you? Why?!"
"I know about the 'not so secret' bunker and your emergency supplies", Hermione shrugged.
Thomas groaned loudly and started pinching himself. "Okay, time to wake up from this nightmare."
"We really need to move past this "not believing reality" phase you're in," Hermione said. "At least you aren't trying to deny the existence of the secret stash," she grumbled.
Thomas groaned again, more miserably this time.
"Look dad, I don't want to blow anyone up and I won't," Hermione continued. What she just said was true enough and this was as good a time as any for some serious half-truths and lies by omission. "In fact, you'll get it back, completely intact in a couple of hours. But this is a life or death situation and I won't take no for an answer."
In any other household, with any other teenage daughter, this phrasing would've been almost meaningless, an act of defiance and teenage drama, but here, in the Granger home it had been used twice before and only in the most dire of circumstances.
"Fine, as ratified in our family charta I won't ask any pressing questions right now, but please, princess, tell me you'll be safe?" Thomas pleaded.
"Yeah, I'll be as safe as I can be when plastic explosives are involved," Hermione said while giving him her trained puppy dog eyes, "If I end up in prison, you'll bust me out, right?"
Thomas chuckled and looked invigorated. "Yup, Magical Britain has a superiority complex, but it wouldn't be the first time her Majesty had demanded and successfully executed a rescue mission for one of her subjects."
Hermione marveled at her fathers' poise. If Magical Britain thought they could keep a former secret agent of her Majesties MI5 separated from his daughter they'd have another thing coming.
Thomas sighed as he headed towards the basement door, "Come along then, sweety."
A tiny bell rang as Hermione entered Madame Valerie's Gratuitous Gemini Store in Knockturn Alley an hour later, . When Hermione had first learned about this particular spell, she had been shocked that these things weren't more popular.
She quickly came to understand that it was extremely illegal and likely deadly for a Witch or Wizard, to try to duplicate Galleons and other currencies under the Goblin's purview. Which at the moment included any and all currencies, mundane or magical. The Goblin-Wizard treatise "On the business of money: Rights and responsibilities" of 1949 gave the Goblins sole jurisdiction in these matters. Of course there were lots of concessions by the Goblins, like giving up any aspirations for representation in the Magical Government, and Wizards were allowed to dispute up to three judgments per year, by invoking a hearing in the Wizengamot.
Those provisions were rarely exercised, primarily because the Goblins took their business very seriously.
A few years ago a grand-daughter of a prominent member of the Wizengamot had tried to swindle the Goblins with fake money in order to fuel her potion addiction. When the Wizengamot formally objected to the incarceration and forced labor to pay off her debt, the Goblins embarrassed the Wizards by presenting such a strong case during the public proceedings, that Warlock Firenius had to lay down his Wizengamot appointment and his whole family, a most noble and ancient House, was now eschewing the public eye.
Trying to mess with the Goblins just wasn't done.
Duplicating magical properties of items was of course impossible. Food and drink was right out as well, thanks to Gamp's. So that just left the doubling of mundane items.
Most Wizards and Witches were way too proud to use something copied in lieu of conjuring it themselves or purchasing unique, hand-made items. Doubling shops just weren't as popular as someone from a muggle background might expect, still, Hermione blamed vanity and a lack of out-of-the-box thinking for that.
"Good morning Madame Valerie,"Hermione unceremoniously dumped the small, orange, bundle of Semtex on the table.
"Oh, welcome Dearie. So good to see you again. What can I do for you today?" asked the shopkeeper.
"I'd like a copy of 50 of these please. Oh, and could you be so kind to apply a self-reversing shrinking and stasis charms, please?" asked Hermione.
"Of course, of course," the shop owner waved her wand over the bundle, shooting little diagnostic spells into the Semtex and muttering to herself.
Hermione winced a little, being only 99% sure that this was safe.
"No idea what you want with this," the shop-keep continued, "but the stuff seems simple enough to double. I won't ask what you need 50 bags of what appears to be useless dirt for. As you're aware, we're very discrete here. That'll be 15 sickles and 5 knuts. You can pick up your order in two hours."
Hermione threw the money on the counter and smiled courteously, "Thanks ma'am."
She quickly left the little store. There was lots to do still. A muggle music store was next on her expansive agenda.
Late in the evening, an exhausted Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room. Harry noticed her presence immediately and got up from the sofa, where he had been engrossed in a conversation with Lavender. He approached Hermione.
"Hey Mia. I suppose everything went okay?" Harry asked.
Hermione was startled. They had never used their secret nicknames in public, but she decided to play along. "Yeah Evans, thank you so much".
She quickly pushed the cloak towards his chest and then crushed the fabric between their bodies when she initiated a fierce hug. "I wanted to take you along so badly, but I couldn't."
"I know and I won't ask," he mumbled into her hair. "It's only one more week until the first task…"
"Don't you worry. We'll practice some more tomorrow," she replied, "I promise, you'll be much better than even Cedric! You already improved lots." Hermione had been deeply impressed with Harry's intuitive grasp of complex magics.
If everything worked right, it would be totally unnecessary, but more learning and practice have never hurt anyone. More than anyone else her Harry needed to learn to better protect himself. She could think of 38 viable methods to maim or harm him right now and she was determined to reduce that down to 25 by their 5th year.
While still making up for her missed Harry-hugging time of the day, Ron was coming down the boy's dorm stairs and sneered in their general direction. Hermione decided to do something she'd never dared to before: She sneered right back focusing intently on his miserable existence. Who in their right mind would throw away a friendship with the most wonderful person on the planet?
"Curse be upon you, Ronald Billius Weasley," she thought. Right at the same time Ron stumbled and face-planted right into the carpet, accompanied by a chorus of guffaws from the assembled Gryffindors. "Weird coincid…"
"Hey Mia," Harry interrupted her train of thought, oblivious to Ron's misfortune, carefully disengaging their hug, "Uhm, did you realize that there's a Hogsmeade weekend on the day before the first task?"
"Yeah, of course, why?" Hermione asked, "Oh, no, don't tell me you don't want to go anymore?!"
"No, yes, no… I still want to go," Harry seemed a bit flabbergasted, "It's just…"
Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, "Out with it, Evans!"
"Wellll, this is a bit awkward, but… Here goes nothing: Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me, Mia?"
Hermione was confused. Weren't they already going to Hogsmeade together? After some careful consideration she decided she should probably ask exactly that. "But… Harry, aren't we already going to Hogsmeade, together?"
Harry let out a frustrated huff, "Yes. Hermione. We are. I just wanted to ask you out properly, you know?"
Hermione blinked and stared blankly for at least three seconds, then she blushed a bright red and smiled sheepishly, "Yes, of course Harry. I'd love to accompany you to Hogsmeade."
While lost in each other's eyes, they barely noticed the furious figure of Ron stumbling past them on his way to the hospital wing, leaving a trickle of blood in his wake.
As Harry and Hermione parted ways in order for her to enjoy a much needed shower and store away her stuff, Lavender grinned at Hermione from across the common room, gave her two thumbs-up accompanied by an exaggerated, comical wink and mouthed a silent "You're welcome".
It was breakfast time. In a corner in the Great Hall sat an old, mechanical, phonograph hidden under heavy notice-me-not charms. In its proximity students, both young, and old milled about, preparing for their day out of the castle.
As it was clearly no danger to anyone and considered to be completely useless by Wizards and Witches alike, not even the illustrious Headmaster of this venerated school in Scotland could break through the mental protections.
A determined girl, with frizzy hair and a serious expression approached the old musical device. She was the only one who still seemed to be aware of its existence. With a wand tucked inside the sleeve of her robes she passed by and whispered, "Sonorous".
Curious. She had been doing this twice a day for a whole week and the old phonograph felt a little bit stronger. Felt? The many layers of primordial magical power in this place had imbued it with a tiny bit of sentience. Just enough for it to feel strangely proud about what surely must be its biggest performance ever. As if by magic the record on its turntable gave small anticipatory shudder, the digits 1812 on its printed label, barely visible in the dim candlelight of the Hall.
Hermione marched her butt to the seat next to her best friend, maybe soon to be more than that, Harry Potter, swooning a little at how handsome he looked. She had spent the whole night prior to this awake, preparing for operation Thermopylae, but a clandestine pepper-up potion had taken care of the heavy bags under her eyes. Yes, there was some risk of potion addiction, especially for someone like her, but she wouldn't allow herself to be sleepy today. No matter what the evening might bring, she was determined to spend this day with the person she'd done all this work for.
It was the eve of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament and Hermione Granger, despite everything else, was ridiculously happy. She had just spent her first date with a pretty boy and had checked off some other firsts off her bucket list. Since most items on that list involved Harry Potter in some way or fashion, she would've been quite happy to go a lot further down her long list, but her multi-pronged plans had made allowances for Harry being a boy (aka socially retarded), a little younger than herself and her developing a bit sooner than him.
Not that she wanted to seem ungrateful. Harry had gone all out for their first official date, creating memorable experiences at every opportunity. None of this was required of course. Hermione would've been just as happy to just mindlessly wander the streets, as long as they stayed far away from Madam Puddifoot's, but she deeply appreciated Harry's efforts to make this day very special for both of them.
Next to her, her crush had secretly entwined his fingers with hers under the table and gave her a sideways glance, while talking Quidditch with Angelina. Angelina was a kindred spirit and an ally of sorts, since she understood that Harry would much rather play that stupid sport than be involved in a thrice damned magical tournament.
Hermione felt an incredible sense of calm wash over her. Was this how her Daddy had felt, when all plans had been made, every preparation been done, at the eve of battle? She was ripped out of her musings when Dumbledore rose to address the hall.
"The first task is upon us," he intoned ceremonially.
Hermione readied her wand, but without her doing anything the first choral tunes of Tchaikovsky's Op. 49 "1812 Overture" started to play in a subdued volume, just loud enough for the Headmaster to continue his speech. Did she just cast intent based wandless magic? It hadn't feel like anything.
"This is it, this is it. This. Is It." Thought an old muggle machine forgotten by almost everyone, "I'm doing it all on my own now!"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, clearly happy about the added gravitas to his impromptu speech. "Tomorrow three schools will compete, represented by four champions, trying to prove their worth in the eyes of Magic." He added a dramatic pause.
"The Triwizard Tournament has a long history and proud tradit…" Dumbledore's ramblings were interrupted as the doors to the Great Hall flew open. At the same time a Howler exploded loudly and a booming voice announced
"THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT AND HOGWARTS CASTLEPROUDLY PRESENT OUR CHAMPION OF CEREMONIES: FORGE WEASLEY"
A proud figure, clearly supposed to represent a generic tournament champion, appeared in the entrance of the Great Hall, wearing robes of splendor and staring seriously towards the crowd of wide eyed students and international guests. He struck a pose like one of those Greek mythical heroes, holding his Wand aloft.
"Ah, I wanted to offer more words, but it seems like the infamous Weasley twins have prepared some kind of entertainment for the evening," grumbled Dumbledore good-naturedly, Tchaikovsky's Overture still blasting away in the background.
Suddenly a huge four-legged creature appeared behind the mock Champion. The other Twin was wearing some kind of elaborate Nundu costume, enhanced by astounding charm work. Professor Flitwick was standing on his chair clapping happily while the rest of the Hall cheered loudly.
Forge let out a girlish scream as he noticed the monster and fell over backwards on his arse. Then Nundu-Gred stalked towards Forge from the foyer outside the Great Hall. He scrambled for purchase and the Nundu gripped his garish Champion's robes and pulled mightily. They ripped away and revealed a half-naked Forge, wearing only diapers underneath, who let out another undignified scream of shock and surprise.
The mood shifted and gasps of outrage were heard throughout the Hall. Some, who still hadn't caught on, were cheering for the Champion to finally beat up the Nundu. The music grew ever louder.
Meanwhile Forge had scrambled backwards towards the dais, past the rows of House Tables, a comical pacifier now stuffed into his mouth and suckling obscenely. The fake Nundu kept itself busy shredding the robes it had conquered into a thousand pieces. When Forge had almost reached the teachers table the Nundu, possessing inhuman strength, pounced towards its prey flying across the Hall. It seemed to hover in the air for a couple of seconds.
Hermione had introduced the twins to Muggle film, but she was sure she wasn't the only Muggleborn who recognized the reference to some of the best wire work of Kung Fu movies. Magic just made things too easy sometimes, she sighed exasperatedly. Next to her Harry chuckled, clearly grasping the point of their little skit, happily rubbing his thumb across her palm.
Nundu-Gred landed right on top of his diaper and pacifier wearing twin brother and, after a loud theatrical growl that captured the full attention of the audience, appeared to sink his claws into the torso of his victim. A red substance splattered in all directions. A big glob of it had hit Snape, it was dripping from his crooked nose, and another had landed next to Dumbledore, who had picked up a piece of Toast, happily dipping it into the substance.
"Ah, one of my favorites, strawberry jam," he cheered towards the Weasleys, waving the bitten toast about and chewing quickly, "Thank you both for this wonderful performance."
The Headmaster was clearly trying to put a premature end to their display. Hermione of course had expected this interference and activated the sabotage she had prepared upon his stupid little throne with a wave of her wand. Dumbledore let out a yelp, while one of the chair legs slowly disintegrated. His colleagues made themselves busy helping to steady the chair, except for Snape, who was still angrily wiping his face.
The Twins didn't notice any of this, they were in their element and not even close to done. Forge gave a pitiful wail while the Nundu was still brutally carving up his torso. Hermione was truly impressed, as the Twins had gone all out with the special effects, giving Hollywood Horror productions a run for their money. Fake guts were flying in all directions.
No glory was to be found in the Twins presentation, just a life needlessly snuffed out of existence by a wild merciless beast. After Forge had pleaded for his life and a few moments later begged for someone to put him out of his misery, he slowly faded into unconsciousness. As he lay there, ceasing all movement, a shimmering figure emerged from his body and a loud murmur went through the audience.
Anyone who paid close attention would have realized that it was Nearly-Headless Nick, who floated above Forge's body and then quickly climbed up into the enchanted ceiling. As soon as the Ghost touched the ceiling, all eyes being drawn towards the roof, it exploded into a macabre collage of cruelty and death: Teenage boys and girls in a cascade of vivid pictograms appeared in the magical ceiling, being eviscerated by mythical beasts, while a grotesque audience of stick figures cheered on and applauded the spectacle from the stands.
Caricatures of useless teachers stuffing their faces with treacle tart consummated the ensemble of violence. In one of the depictions an evil Dumbledore facsimile handed a large sack of gold to a crippled girl, who didn't seem very happy about her victory. What had remained of the girl made Alastor Moody look pretty.
The music had now reached its peak and the Weasley Twins had gotten up from the ground and started to pseudo-conduct the most famous parts of the composition. Cannon blasts and actual fireworks accompanied the slideshow of brutal death and misery on the enchanted ceiling, ever changing to the beat of the music. While Fred and George pirouetted about, cold fire rained from the sky.
Dumbledore's visage had grown stony and dark, barely holding in his rage. Some first years were crying, clearly disturbed by the imagery on display.
No one, except Hermione of course, had paid much attention to the Goblet of Fire, which was now hovering far above the crowd. She waved her wand carefully under the table, stoically ignoring Harry's significant glances. Harry Potter was no idiot and she knew that she'd have to answer some uncomfortable questions later on.
During the crescendo of the composition a blue spherical ward enveloped the Goblet, which now demanded the attention of the onlookers as the pictures on the ceiling faded to black and all pyrotechnics ceased. There was only the ominous blue light and the Fire in the Goblet itself remaining.
Of course the Weasleys hadn't been involved in this part of the "prank". They would be able deny any and all involvement with priceless Magical Artifacts, even under Veritaserum. They had stopped their pretend conducting and watched with just as much awe and surprise as everyone else.
At the same time Dumbledore was too busy chasing after Peeves, who had stolen the Headmaster's wand, cackling all across the dais.
During all that chaos an incredible explosion, which remained contained within the blue shimmering field surrounding the Goblet, shook the Hall. For a few seconds it was as if a small sun was hovering right in the middle of the Hall, bathing everyone in a bright light, casting long shadows across the tables. As the simmering heat cooled down, the spherical shield charm slowly dissolved and the remaining pieces of the Goblet of Fire, none of which were bigger than a fraction of an inch, rained safely down to the ground. Where once the Goblet had hovered, remained only its flames, which were restless, switching colors from angry red to purple. Wild Magic had been let loose.
Hermione gripped Harry's hand tighter. This was unexpected and unplanned. She had been sure that the insane amount of Semtex she had carefully placed in and around the Goblet at night would be enough to put a serious dent into the cursed thing, but everything beyond that was mostly guesswork. On the other hand, all her prior research into Magical theory had backed up the hypothesis, that a thing which had ceased to exist would be extremely unable to enforce any kind of Magical curses or contracts.
The hovering flames divided into four distinct parts and with a loud wooshing sound the small individual tongues of Magical Fire flew directly towards Fleur, Krum, Cedric and Harry, dissipating harmlessly into their chests. As this was happening a restless panic spread among the crowd. Some students had been hiding under the tables, others had been running towards the exit. Some male Slytherin students had tried to use their girlfriends as human shields, while in Gryffindor the roles were usually reversed. At least this was how Hermione had found herself in a rare embrace initiated by Harry himself, his wand outstretched towards apparent danger and a shield charm on his lips.
Headmaster Dumbledore's attempts to calm the crowds fell on deaf ears. As the last notes of the Overture faded into oblivion, a masked face appeared in place of the ex-Goblet and a distorted voice intoned:
"Take note, teachers, tyrants, treacherous trust abusers. Today ends the Terror of the Triwizard Tournament. Tantalizing the blood-thirsty masses, to torment your teenage charges? Targeting instead of tutoring them? Tasks for thrills and theater? Tombstones rather than Transfiguration? Is this the true testament of your torment? Seek therapy! Your tiresome, torturous tactics have been found wanting by this tribunal. This transmission of throttling truth shall put to rest your toxicity. There is a terrible threat to my tasteless treatise: The tides are turning and a thesis of truth is a tornado. Turn away. My tapestries are timeless. Don't test my temperament.Ta-ta."
In big letters "T sends his regards" appeared in the ceiling with a small asterisk next to the writing denoted: * Apologiesfor stealing your thunder, Weaselboys.
I'll end it here. I imagine this being the first of many appearances of this mysterious T persona, but those tales will almost certainly remain unwritten. As hinted at by their secret nicknames, this isn't just a single point of diversion fic, this is a slightly different universe from canon.
Now go away and write a V for Vendetta crossover where Harry blows up the Ministry.