The Dragon Master: …er…um…no, Silversmith is not gay… he's just a crazy, madcap lunatic who should be in a straightjacket at all times.

Legancy: I'm glad you like the 'Harry with no glasses' picture. Everyone does, for some reason. Anyways, thanks for your review!

E.C.R Potter: Sorry, I can't answer that… *shrugs*…*looks around aimlessly*…*hums a tune*… You'll have to find out if Harry and Ron were talking about Hermione later, now, wont you? Thanks for your review!

Baby Angel Wow: Don't die! Here's the next chapter! *whew*

Em: What would you think if you were in Herm's situation? Harry and Ron sounded pretty convincing, and Herm can't help it if she sounds like a complete airhead for misunderstanding everything. But after this chapter is done, Harry wont be able to…ah, jeez… I ALMOST GAVE IT AWAY! *jk*

Jean L: Bookmark away! I'll be happier! And I kind of end up making Harry grumpy and stressed out in all my stories… I wonder why that is… maybe because it's a good chance for Herm to comfort him *grin*

ADJ: I'm sorry I had to make you wait. For my reasons, see at bottom of chapter. I can't wait for the next task(s) too! Yeah! Thanks for your review!

HermioneHarry4ever: What an original name! I love it! And about Marindernia… I don't blame you for wanting to kill her! It even surprised me how cruel I've made her!

Max Lonewolf: Hummm… should I resolve the Harry/Herm issue… I dunno… hehe. Just pulling your leg.

Rarity88: What can I say? I'm an evil unpredictable person!

En Shoe: I love my 'cliché' chapter. And you're right: 'I'm da boss', which makes me in power to whatever the trio do. For all you know, I could make Harry hitchhike across Europe, steal a taxi and smash into a tree. Or perhaps Hermione'll get arrested by the Ministry for the attempted murder of Harry Potter and be sentenced to life in Azkaban. Who knows? I'm unpredictable *sniker* So, thanks very much for you review! You rock!

Calistal: I'll try to review your story! I know how it feel to not get as much reviews as you wanted, but just wait a bit longer! Thanks for your review!

*I'd like to take this opportunity to tell readers that if you want the latest news on anything Harry Potter, including the Chamber of Secrets movie, visit this site regularly -- www.the-leaky-cauldron.org. I'm a very frequent visitor and they've got everything! They update all the time! That's where I found out that J.K.R verbally announced that Harry and Hermione would take a liking to each other in the fifth book. And most importantly, they gave me this link for some CoS stills of Tom Riddle in the movie (you'll need to cycle through them until you find it) -- http://www.rexfeatures.com/cgi-bin/rppshow0?k=HARRY+POTTER*

…~'*'~…

It was a long way from the Quidditch pitch to the Grand Hall. It was a long way from walking from any point to any other in this castle. You'd take almost ten minutes to walk from one end of the school to another, in Dryconderoga, and it took longer when trying to reach the staircase while dodging bats flying around your head and streamers being thrown at you. It was Halloween. Tisroc Whin wished it wasn't like that. It was his school, his pride and honor, but Tisroc couldn't afford to waste any time. He needed to sneak in a few hours of practice every day after classes, then nearly all day on weekends. It was a necessity… at this time.

            While Tisroc was left to do his basic training on the pitch without any interference, the Dryconderoga students would be having lunch inside the castle, talking and laughing. And the Nockdernian students would be there too. So would those wretched Hogwarts blokes. Why did Siamoen ask that old man if his school wanted to participate? And why did he agree? Wasn't one tournament they won enough? They were going to ruin it for him.

            And perhaps no one could ruin it for the champion of Dryconderoga. Practice he did, but there was no appearance of that famous sob story kid. He was the one who won it for Hogwarts before. He was ignorant, thinking he would win again. But perchance he wouldn't win this tournament. He was a walking Quidditch trophy, from what Tisroc heard from a few of his friends who were actually associating with those Hogwarts inferior. He was a kid who had naturally born talent, like he was plucked from the very field of experts. So what? Tisroc had done the same things he had, winning the Quidditch cup for his school for years now. But who thinks one could do well if one did not practice?  

            In the chilly, breezy mornings, Tisroc would kick off, broom securely gripped in both hands with his arms just slightly bent, making sure his elbows were at a precise angle and his knees just below him at an professional position. He flew around the pitch akin to the experts do on his homeland team, with his warm furs wrapped around him to shelter himself from the cold. He shot down the pitch in a rush of wind, his robes trailing behind him, as he shot up to the sky and rocketed upwards. Up, up he went, towering above the castle, and with an effortless twist of his wrist, he plummeted back down again, his cheeks burning from the wind hitting his face. And, a foot from the ground, he came to a faultless halt. He was sure that famous fan club loving kid couldn't do that. That took years of experience.

            There was no question. Tisroc was going to win this. The other champions were just inferior. Bugs that he'd just longed to squish. Besides, neither of the champions were up to it. One hadn't cared to pick up his broom and the other simply didn't bother for such a thing (that was just the person they were). But Tisroc had became terribly fond of his broom, just like he could believe it had a mind of it's own that he could understand. Besides, substandard people were not equivalent to what Tisroc could do with his broom.

            And that had solidified it. It didn't matter. Ever since the Anika Ball, the one champion, the one who had so many admirers and haters, the kid who'd been hanging around riffraff ever since Tisroc had seen him, was looking pretty miserable the next day. He didn't even come to the Grand Hall or, like always, the Quidditch pitch that morning on Halloween. Maybe there was nothing to this renowned boy after all…

…~'*'~…

It was the day of the second task. Who knew what it was going to be? The champions, the Professors, the Headmasters and Headmistress… but that was it. It was no wonder students were waiting outside classroom doors for their friends to finish classes and first years would squeal in excitement whenever they spoke of the champions. For some, it was a chance of a lifetime. To see three rival schools compete in such an event as the Tournament of Demontarity was a very rare thing. Who knows? If a champion ends up dead, it could be the last Tournament for years.

            Some had real enmity. People who would chance a shot at winning one over their enemy felt such a rewarding feeling. Like your first dueling lesson that you triumphed over or the time when you knew the answer to the question 'what would happen if you added powdered root of a thistle shrub with the essence of a cave bat?' in class and you showed your class you weren't such a ridiculous person after all. Yes, it would be such a pleasant feeling, just to know your school won such a big event.

            Hermione woke up in that same atmosphere of competition, with her gown still on and her pillowcase covered in her old makeup form last night. She felt like an overshadowing disappointment that hadn't seen the light of day, plainly, for last night was still heavily burning in her mind. But when she had waited for Lavender, Ginny and Parvati to leave, she changed and took off her ridiculous excuse of a pair of shoes. Then she wiped off the messy, revolting, ugly, needless and wasted load of whatever was on her face with handful of tissues. There. No evidence of what happened last night.

            She packed away her gorgeous gown at the bottom of her trunk along with her shoes and straightened up. She really needed to work on the self-assurance thing. And making sure she looks like a bright ray of sunshine when really, she wanted to stay in her dorm for eternity. She sighed, smiled, and left the girl's dorms on the search for Ron, dearly hoping Harry wasn't with him.

            The common room was decorated for Halloween. Their were bats flying well above the ground, making little first years scream in terror. Orange and black streamers tripped the tables and chairs and staircases, while a colour-matching ball of light hovered above the tall room, casting an eerie glow over everything. Even several Hagrid-sized pumpkins and jack-o'-lanterns were sitting along the walls, but they were completely filled with candy corn and creamy toffees. Hermione had to admit, they did do the decorations differently here than at Hogwarts.

            Hermione saw that a few first years were sitting in the corner, playing exploding snap, but looking at their watches every now and then. Some were drinking huge goblets of a foreign drink that had smoke whipping out of it, while playing chess. Most were sitting on the chairs and talking and all were eager for the grandfather clock to chime noon.

            Hermione picked up her speed, hoping nobody would stop her, and she was lucky. Everyone was too fascinated by the sweets-filled pumpkins to care, anyways.

            The Grand Hall was decorated similar to the common room, but everything was twice its size. Bats the length of broomsticks were soaring above the long tables and there was about three enormous balls of light hovering above each table. They still had the pumpkins, but they weren't filled with sweets. No, they were sitting on the tables on huge platters along with the foreign, steaming beverages. At least the fountain, the small tables, the stage and pixies were gone. Even more reassurance that last night didn't exist.

As Hermione looked around, she saw, unsurprisingly, Ron sitting at the Hogwarts table, a bowl of candy corn in front of him and a smug grin on his face. Hermione sighed in relief. At least Harry wasn't there.

            "Hermione!" he gasped, "There you are! I was looking all over for you!"

            Hermione approached him with a frown, and said, "Yeah right. And I'm Urhlish the unlucky."

            Ron shoved a couple more handfuls of sweets into his mouth, and pushed the bowl away from him. He picked up a stack of toast he'd saved, and handed them to Hermione.

            "Thanks," mumbled Hermione, accepting them.

            "What was with you last night? You ran past me and Harry before we could say anything!" said Ron furiously, standing up and staring at her.

            Hermione had to think fast. An excuse. She needed an excuse. A good one that even Ron, who had experience in making excuses himself, would believe.

            "I thought I was going to be sick, that's all," said Hermione convincingly, "I had a bit too much punch."

            Ron blinked, "You didn't have any at all!" he sighed heavily, shook his head and said, "Harry has his task coming up in almost half an hour. I don't know what's wrong with you, but you better well pull yourself together! Harry's expecting you to be there, and he hasn't been looking too well since last night. He just left… without any breakfast!"

            Hermione felt a prang of guilt, but paid attention to Ron's foolhardy lecture anyways. It was partly because she somehow made out that Harry had known something that wasn't true and that she had lied very badly. But perhaps she could make this work.

            "Ron, sorry, but I came down to tell you that I can't make it," sighed Hermione, "I still feel kind of… uh… queasy. I'm really sorry."

            "Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to Harry!" snapped Ron hotly, "But you do look kind of ill. Maybe you should tell Dumbledore or someone."

            "I will, Ron," said Hermione, trying her hardest to fake a cough and not seem too pathetic, "Apologize to Harry for me, will you?"

            Ron grabbed one last handful of candy corn, stuffed them into his pocket and took is coat that was lying next to him, "I will. See you!"

            Hermione lamely waved at him, and once Tisroc Whin, who was wearing heavy furs and carrying a broom, slouched inside, Ron had left through the doors to the chilly outside. Hermione sighed in relief. At least she didn't need to leave the castle. Heck, she didn't need to leave her dorm. But forget about telling Dumbledore that she was 'sick'. She was sure he wouldn't let her stay in the castle, and he'd obviously be a little curious.

            Hermione slowly walked down the corridor that led back to her dorm, munching on the toast Ron had given her. For such an ill person, she ate it quite quickly. But she was hungry and she left the ball last night before eating anything at all. Once she was finished and brushed her hands off of crumbs, she checked her watch. Ten more minutes before everyone came barreling down the corridors. Wait a moment. Make that one.

            Hermione jumped, hearing hundreds of excited voices, and they were just around the end of the corridor. It was, no doubt, the students hurrying to the second task. Hermione, eyes wide, franticly looked around. She found an empty classroom. Making up her mind before the horde of excited Hogwarts students traipsed over her, Hermione darted for the door, threw it open, and hurried inside.

            The students, some shrieking with excitement and shouting for their friends to hurry up, passed right by Hermione's hiding place without noticing her. And then the thunderous sound of hundreds of feet had passed, and disappeared down the corridor. Hermione sighed in relief. Surely, is she had been found, her friends would have been tugging on her to follow. And then she'd have to watch Harry, looking positively miserable, competing in the task, whatever that was. But Hermione could watch the task from afar.

            Hermione turned and scanned the classroom she was in. It was very old and dusty, looking almost like the unused classrooms she had been in at Hogwarts, the ones she and Harry had been in at midnight, practicing spells and charms. Selves lined the room, all filled with old, worn books. A dozen desks lay upturned to the side behind a very tattered teacher's desk at the front of the room, and the curtains, which were covering the window that revealed the grounds, were torn to shreds. It almost reminded Hermione of the shrieking shack her and Harry needed to enter with the purpose of finding Ron before a man-hungry monster of a dog (who was really harmless Sirius Black) devoured him. Even though that thought frightened her, she just had to raise her eyebrows in surprise: why did everything have to end up with Harry being mentioned?

            Hermione crossed the room, leaving the outlines of her footprints on the filthy ground as she walked. She peeled back the shabby curtains and looked outside. It was just as she thought; the task was just outside.

            All the way down on the ground, Hermione saw hundreds of onlookers and bystanders and Professors and reporters who were assembling along the long, twisting rivulet, all looking excited. At least Hermione thought they looked excited, she was too far up to tell. Towering high above them was the booth that held the judges, all Professors Dumbledore, Kohl and Siamoen. And there, on the right of the wide stream, was the champions. All three of them, wearing thick robes and clutching brooms… brooms? Why on earth would they need brooms?

            Hermione stared at Harry, intrigued. He was, undoubtedly, wearing his Gryffindor Quidditch robes, judging by the crimson apparel. And unfortunately, Hermione couldn't really tell if he looked upset or not. One thing was for sure: he must be looking nervous.

            Hermione watched in amazement as the same man who refereed the first task marched up to stand next to the champions, his gold robes blowing in the cold, October breeze. He motioned for the champions to mount their brooms. And the next moment, the feeble tweet of the whistle was lost in the roar of the crowd lining the waterway as the champions kicked off and rocketed forwards down the stream. Tisroc was in the lead.

            Hermione knew she had promised herself that she wouldn't watch the task, but Harry was easily the best flyer in Hogwarts, and he was falling behind… not that she cared. And she could no longer see the competition; the champions had flown so far up that they were not seeable through her window. Oh, great wizards, thought Hermione franticly. She roughly replaced the ripped curtains and looked around the old classroom. There had to be another window.

            Then Hermione saw something she hadn't before. There was an additional door at the back of the classroom that stood open a tiny crack, and light was shinning from it. Not wasting any time, Hermione bolted for the door as quick as she could without tripping over the loose floorboards and upturned desks, and wrenched it open. She peered inside.

            Hermione very well expected to step inside a room beset with more desks and chairs, perhaps a few crates of old books lying on the ground, but she didn't. But one thing was certain, she did see light. But the light wasn't coming from a window that should have been showing three students barreling down a rivulet bordered with bystanders. Instead, there were no windows by any means, and Hermione hadn't expected the source of light, not in all her wildest dreams, to be coming from what she saw.

            Marindernia. Hermione's heart stopped beating as she stared at the bizarre scene in front of her. It was no question to who it was: the third champion. She was hovering in mid air, in the center of the room, her back to Hermione, only a few inches from the ground. Strangely as it seemed, her figure was spread out looking as though it were about to be sucked into a portal. Her long, silver hair reached out behind her, being held up by some hidden force, and from her angelic gleaming figure came light. It was bright, magnificent light, thinning out from the tips of Marindernia's fingers to the ends of her feet. She looked as though she was hypnotized.

            Hermione loathed Marindernia dearly, but she was smart to know that this was not normal behavior at all. Sure, she'd seen dragons, werewolves, centaurs and deathly creatures, but in her entire life, she had never seen anyone behave this oddly without being controlled by some severe dark magic. And if Marindernia were caught looking like this, everyone would surely point reproachful fingers at the one who saw her last. So, making up her mind, Hermione swallowed hard, and carefully stepped further inside the room.

            "Marindernia?" whispered Hermione hesitantly, trying to look at her face, "Aren't you supposed to be in the task, Marindern-"

            She shrieked in surprise, for the body of Marindernia began to stir. She started to rotate very slowly, her feet still not touching the ground and the light not fading. She stopped where Hermione realized her eyes were closed, which was directly in front of her. Hermione stepped back a little, her eyes wide, as the light emitting from her body turned a horrible, deathly red. Then something started to swirl beneath her; it looked like flames. The angelic Marindernia was consumed, and now an evil form had taken her place. This was unquestionably more than what Hermione had bargained for.

            Hermione was so frightened she couldn't move. Marindernia's flowing hair caught an unseen gust of wind, and soon, her blood-red robes started to waft in a vigorous breeze. It was like a storm indoors, and Hermione was caught in the middle of it. Surely there was dark magic around, controlling Marindernia. That was definite when, as is nothing could frighten Hermione more, Marindernia did something unexpected. As if she sensed Hermione's horror, she lobbed her head back, and her eyes snapped open. She stared at the ceiling, and Hermione could see something that created fear beyond anything she had felt- her eyes were a glowing, inhuman, repulsive red, like the colour of the swirls of flames beneath her. Hermione knew nobody who had eyes like that, but Harry did. Marindernia had purple eyes, not red. Certainly not a red that looked so bloodcurdling it hurt.

            Hermione was so sidetracked by Marindernia that she hadn't noticed that the books from the shelves around the walls were falling to the ground. The red light from Marindernia mixed with the filth and soon, a storm of dust was swirling around Marindernia's form. Hermione had to cover her eyes with her hands with the purpose of watching, and she needed to keep her robes down so they wouldn't block her view. But she was beginning to think seeing this wasn't such a good idea after all.

            Perhaps it was because of that unseen force that held Marindernia so gently that her arms slowly started to drift apart. Hermione gawked in astonishment at what she saw. Then what she heard. Marendernia was… singing? No. Hermione listened closer, and realized her lips were moving to form some sort of mumble that she couldn't understand. It was ghostly and deep and incredibly cold, most unlike Marindernia's original voice. In fact, it sounded like a man's voice, but the language was something Hermione could not distinguish. It was so foreign, so inhuman, like its creator abandoned it.

            Hermione had come to realize that this was definitely not a place for her. The task would be over soon, with a replica Marindernia of some sort crossing the finish line. She had to tell somebody. She'd do something she was originally going to do, and that would be to talk to Dumbledore.

            Hermione gulped uneasily, and while trying her hardest to block the constant mumbling of Marindernia and the fact that it seemed to be getting louder, stepped to the side once. Nothing. She stepped again. No reaction. Hermione dashed for the door.

            That was too much for whatever was controlling Marindernia. Hermione found herself being pulled back with what felt like air, and she hit the bookshelf with a loud thud. She screamed. Marindernia was looking at her, her red eyes unswervingly narrowed and a grimace on her lips. She looked infuriated.

"DÉJEME O MUERA!" she shouted at Hermione in a thunderous voice, "AHORA!"

Hermione could take a hint. She scrambled to her feet, and dashed for the door. Her heart pounding and not looking back, she ran as fast as she could across the classroom and out the door. She ran into no one as she raced down the corridor and into the Grand Hall. She needed to find Dumbledore right away, to tell him that one of the Champions couldn't possibly be real… could they?

Hermione pushed open the Grand Hall doors to find everyone on the grounds bordering the rivulet, the students, professors and reporters all applauding and screaming in triumph excitedly. The judges were back on the ground and they were congratulating the Champions, who were being attacked by students. The task was over, and Hermione had caught only the ending of it.

Nevertheless, Hermione ran down the lawn to the horde of people to the judges. She pushed her way through students, but it was no easy task. With that many students pressing in on her, it was hard to move. Elbows grazed her face and screaming stung her ears until she had enough.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she called franticly through the crowd, "Where's Dumbledore? PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!"

Everyone looked around to look a her. Dean and Seamus stared at her as if she were mad and the commotion had stopped. Tisroc, who as wearing his house Quidditch robes and holding his broom under one arm, was being hugged by the girl he had as his partner for the ball. Tisroc was looking very weary, and neither of them looked pleased. He scowled at Hermione.

"Miss Granger," came a voice that floated over the crowd, which was now departing, "Whatever is the matter?"

Dumbledore emerged from the crowd, smiling very widely and eyes shinning. Hermione gasped, and ran for him.

"Professor," she panted, not aware that everyone was watching them, "Marindernia! I saw her in one of the classrooms! She's acting very strange, and she's mumbling and all red! You have to see her!"

She seized Dumbledore's wrist and began to pull him to the castle, but, for such an old man, he kindly resisted. Hermione looked up at him with alarm.

"Miss Granger, Marindernia was competing in the task all along," said Dumbledore with mild concern, "She competed to the end."

Hermione shook her head furiously and said, "No, Professor, I saw her! I did!"

"Are you mad? She was here a moment ago!" said a Nockdernian boy with an incredulous glower, "She just went up to the castle because she was upset she got third!"

Hermione stared at him, then she looked around at everyone else. She was being stared at from all angles and none of them looked impressed. Most of them almost certainly though she was trying to rob them of their champion's place. Hermione shook her head again, and was about to say something until Dumbledore interrupted her.

"If you like, Hermione, I will happily fill you in on the task, if you need proof," he told her calmly, "Everyone did very well."

Hermione embarrassedly released Dumbledore's boney wrist, her cheeks blushing brilliantly.

"No, that's… it's okay," she mumbled quietly.

"Are you sure you'll be all right, Hermione?"

"Yes, I'll be fine."

Dumbledore didn't look convinced, but he let it go anyways. He smiled and said, "Congratulations, everyone! You did well, if you competing or not. You've demonstrated your school pride very well!"

And Siamoen jovially waved for everyone to come back inside. Hermione watched as everyone passed her, some giving her dirty looks and some laughing at her. Fred and George gave her a thumbs up and said, "good prank!" And Hermione saw someone that made her heart sink to her feet; Harry slouched by with Ron, who hadn't realized Hermione was standing there, still wearing his Quidditch robes and carrying his Firebolt. His hair was drenched and his eyes were red. He side glanced at Hermione. She could have sworn she saw a bit of concern flash by his expression.

Hermione was left to walk up to the castle alone, and she started to think. Perhaps what she had seen was just a Halloween prank that someone had done. Yes, that must have been it, because it surely did scare the daylights out of her. It would surely live up to the expectations of a Halloween prank. But where did all that light come from? What was with the foreign language that Hermione had never heard of before? Someone must have translated it, thought Hermione. She at least thought it was sensible. But she would never know. She'd never go back into that classroom ever again.

…~'*'~…

Hermione stayed squished into a chair in the common room that night. She was reading the book Harry had bought her at Diagon Alley. Of course, she didn't want people to know that she was, so she hid her Updated Version of Hogwarts and History in the spine of another book as she read. It looked very convincing, and since nobody came to talk to her or greeted her, she didn't need to hide anything. She had read over a hundred pages too, but amazingly, she could have read about a hundred more if her mind wasn't on other things.

Most of all, she really wished she had seen the second task. She regretted lying to Ron and Harry, both in which hadn't said a word to her. They obviously had been mad at her, and the reason was obvious. Hermione had been acting like a real idiot. You might even say she'd been pulling a Malfoy, lying fiendishly and plotting against them. In fact, that was exactly what Malfoy would do to her Harry and Ron regularly. That was terrible, and it took long enough for Hermione to realize it.

So, without anyone to talk to, Hermione was left to mull over by herself with a book she wasn't really reading. The only time she had looked up was when the entire Common room had gone into hysterics, only to see that Harry was crossing the room to the exit, and that was about an hour ago. He hadn't even noticed Hermione sitting unaccompanied, nor had he came back yet. Perhaps he was going to take a stroll around the grounds, Hermione didn't know. Just as long as he didn't cross the old, dusty classroom Hermione had been in that day on the way back.

Meanwhile, Hermione's classmates were having a great time. Fred and George had yelled, "We'll start the party once we get the… provisions" over the sea of heads earlier, and they slipped out to find food with a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Soon after, they all came back with platters after platters of sweets and drinks. They were celebrating the completion of the second task, but they hadn't celebrated this much last year in the tournament. It must have been because they had waited a long time to celebrate this greatly.

But Hermione had no desire to take part in the festivities. Even though it was Halloween and the candy corn was great, she had never really participated in any carousing at Hogwarts. Most of the merriment was because the Gryffindor Quidditch team had won against Slytherin in a match or because Harry had outdone himself with his flying tactics, like he always had. But this, for some reason, was exaggerating it all. As the party went on, Hermione realized that never have the Hogwarts students been so loud or reckless in all the years Hermione had watched them. There was no reason for that that Hermione could think of, unless they knew something she didn't.

The hours went by and Hermione hadn't seen Harry walk back inside the Common room. The others had seemed to get worried, but that didn't mean that they'd stop celebrating. Harry wouldn't take that long to just take a short walk around the castle. He'd done that many times at Hogwarts, but he'd never take this long. Hermione sat up, closed her book and put it in her lap. She just stared across the room at the door that Harry should have walked through long ago. Clearly, nobody was concerned as much as Hermione was. It was oblivious to her and others that they'd all comprehend that having their Champion away for so long was very, very bad news.

Soon, Hermione and others had paid more attention to the door. Some had quit celebrating and sat on the floor to watch Fred and George juggle candy corns. All of Harry's good friends had been muttering to themselves and shaking their heads, apparently wondering which one of them would go look for Harry. But they didn't need to. Harry was coming to them, and so was someone only Hermione had ever seen.

Something was indistinctly heard that didn't fit into the atmosphere of the common room at all- shouting. It was just behind the entrance of the common room, and it didn't sound at all festive. Neville had dropped his goblet with a clatter in shock when he heard it. A few first years jumped and clambered across their chessboards in fright. Hermione jumped to her feet, her heart racing.

"What was that?" gasped Ron, who had just reached the bottom of the spiral staircase from his dorm.

All eyes were on the door, all ears were listening sharply and there was no breathing. The shouting started again, but it was closer this time. It sounded so painful, and as she listened, Hermione found herself wondering if she had heard it before. It seemed as though Ron had. He gasped in alarm, his face pale under his freckles, and ran through the group of students to the door. Hermione had a feeling this was bad. She put her book on her seat and followed him.

"Argh, they're both mad!" yelled someone in frustration as Ron wrenched open the door and ran into the corridor.

            Nobody followed Ron and Hermione into the corridor; they all lingered back in the common room, waiting. And as Hermione came to a halt not too far from the door, she wished she were with them. Her fears had been confirmed.

            It was the same thing she had seen earlier during the second task. The same floating figure, the same bloody robes and the same deathly red eyes. It was Marindernia, still looking evil and feral. She hadn't changed at all except for the fact that she was transparent like a ghost. But she was the least of her worries. She had somebody with her, someone she was towering over and that person was supposed to be lounging and celebrating with the rest of the Hogwarts scholars.

            Harry Potter. Hermione shrieked in horror. Marindernia had done something appalling to him. He was at the bottom of the wall, his robes in tatters and covered in red. His face was red. His legs were red. He looked lifeless.

            Ron reacted immediately.

            "HEY!" he shouted furiously, waving his arms around franticly but not advancing towards her, "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

            Marindernia sharply turned in midair to look at him with her red eyes. Ron stepped back in fright, apparently realizing that the 'ghost' was his partner to the Anika Ball and the fact that was a foot from the ground. Marindernia maliciously sneered at him.

            "You are weak to me!" she shouted wrathfully.

            It was the same voice but in English this time. Ron didn't know what she meant, but he looked scared out of his mind. Before neither of them understood what she was doing, Marindernia raised her hands and put them in front of her, palms raised. She cackled in triumph, and at the same time, she did something Ron and Hermione thought was impossible. She produced a small orb of light in her palms, red in colour and looking like a fireball. It was undeniably Dark Magic. The ball of light was small, then it began to grow in size. Soon it was the size of a quaffle, red and fiery. She raised her palms to Ron.

            "ARGH!" yelled Ron, throwing his arms over his head, cowering like a mistreated dog. Hermione shrieked and recoiled next to the door.

            He and Hermione were surprised when Marindernia laughed deeply again. She had tricked them. Ron peered through the fingers of his hands covering his horrified face. Hermione looked up to find Marindernia instead facing her palms to Harry at the bottom of the wall. He didn't deserve what he was about to get. He had enough pain from her magic and tricks.

            But neither Hermione nor Ron could stop her. She shrieked a command Hermione had never heard of and there was a blinding explosion of light.

            "HARRY!" screamed Hermione in terror, trying to shield the light from her eyes while looking around.

"Get down!" shouted Ron.

But she couldn't wait. She struggled, but Ron was holding her down. Tears stung her eyes as she heard Harry's howls of pain. She felt his struggle flowing through her too. It was unbearable, but with Ron and the light, there was a space there to keep her away from him. She found herself hating her antics, her harsh words and ignorance to Harry. Now there might not be any Harry left to say sorry to. 

            It was over as fast has it had began. The light faded all together and Harry was silent again. Hermione felt the weight of Ron leave her and she raised her head. Marindernia had disappeared, but laying face down in the middle of the corridor was Harry, his arms and legs resting in odd positions. Hermione yelped and scrambled to him on her hands and knees. Ron followed her.

            It was the worst thing Hermione had ever seen in her life, as Ron had turned Harry's unconscious body on his back. Harry's head was bleeding, his arms were deeply cut and several deep gashes had blossomed onto his skin. His robes were saturated with blood.

            "Hermione," said Ron faintly as he watched Harry's pale face with terrified eyes, "Go find Dumbledore," he waited a moment, "Hermione, I'll stay with him. Go find Dumbledore. Please."

            Hermione pulled herself together. She had to do what she had done before, but this time, people would accept this as truth and not think she was out of her mind. She nodded, her eyes stinging with pain from the tears she was trying ever so hard to suppress. Ron tried to say good luck, but couldn't find his voice. Hermione understood. She patted his arm, took one more look at Harry and pulled herself up.

            Hermione ran. She ran like she thought she never could, down the long corridors and past alarmed Dryconderoga students. It was time to be there for Harry, even if he was unconscious or dead. Hermione could show herself what she could do and test herself what her strengths were. She had already realized her genuine fondness for Harry could push her to limits that she and other could never imagine. Her tears trailed behind her and her hair whipped at her cheeks. Her legs felt strange, like they were screaming in protest, but she couldn't stop.

            She had reached the Grand Hall and still no sign of Dumbledore. Only a few students playing exploding snap occupied the room. Hermione ran down the staircase, tripping a few times but keeping her footing, and desperately looked around.

            "Pro-Professor Dumbledore!" she shouted urgently, causing several students to stare at her.

            "Miss Granger, another problem?"

            Hermione spun around to find Dumbledore and Siamoen smiling behind her. She had never felt so happy to see them.

            "Professor," gasped Hermione hurriedly, "Harry, he's been hurt! Marindernia did something to him, I saw her! But it wasn't really her, and she used dark magic and-"

            "Hermione, please slow down," said Dumbledore in concern, looking as though her truly believed what she was saying, "I don't understand what you're saying."

            Hermione sighed uneasily and said, "Harry's been hurt really badly. Ron and I found him with Marindernia. She used dark Magic on him or something."

            Dumbledore did some quick thinking. Siamoen looked genuinely shocked. The students in the hall were aware that something was wrong; they stared at the three of them with interest.

            "Where is he?" Dumbledore asked Hermione without that happy twinkle in his eyes.

            "Outside the common room," answered Hermione hurriedly, "Nobody was with him but Marindernia."

            Dumbledore nodded, turned to Siamoen, "Perhaps you should tell your students to remain in your common rooms?"

            Siamoen shook his pale head, looking rather eager, "It's been done, Albus. I'll accompany you for assistance."

            So with a rush of wind, Dumbledore swept up his robes and started climbing the stairs alongside Hermione, Siamoen panting behind them. Hermione noticed Dumbledore was quick for such an old man, and Hermione almost needed to run to keep up with him. They reached the top of the stairs and hurried down the corridor.

            Hermione found the way to the common room a lot longer than when she ran to the Grand Hall. Perhaps it was because she knew what was near the common room and was too afraid to find it. But like it or not, she was so close to the common room now that she could feel Harry cold presence or the absence of it. Hermione, Dumbledore and Siamoen turned a corner and rushed up the last corridor. Hermione's heart was pounding out of her chest.

            Then they saw what they had been looking for. Ron was no longer alone with Harry's limp body; Seamus, Dean and Neville were there, watching as Siamoen, Dumbledore and Hermione approached with agonizing expressions. Neville looked as though he'd burst into tears… and Harry was lying before them, unmoving like he was before.

            As Hermione approached, Ron looked up. He sighed in relief and said, "What took you so long?"

            "Good lord," wheezed Siamoen in astonishment, a hand over his mouth as she spotted Harry, "The poor lad."

            Dumbledore looked forlorn, and it hurt Hermione to she him like that. He normally looked so cheerful and bright. He bent down next to Harry's body and examined him, checking his pulse and inspecting his burns and cuts. Siamoen stood gawking and stuttering helplessly nearby.

            "How is he?" asked Seamus eagerly. Dumbledore didn't answer. He put his hands on his knees, thinking. Then he stood up.

            "Y-you can bring him into the infirmary," suggested Siamoen carefully, "Our nurse should be up."

            Dumbledore nodded, and took out his wand. With a small wave, he conjured a stretched and delicately lifted Harry onto it with his wand. Hermione felt a stab in her stomach watching Harry rise from the ground. His blood-covered hands fell futilely off the sides and his head lolled back as if his neck were damaged. She felt a tear stream down her cheek.

            "I will bring him there," said Dumbledore, "Meanwhile, you all should go to your dorms."
            "How can we?" protested Dean savagely, "Harry's our friend!"

            The man who never feared the fearful was hurt. Dumbledore didn't say a word. Maybe he couldn't find the words, but he waved he hand in a passive manner and hurried down the corridor, directing Harry along in front of him and Siamoen at his heels. Once they left, nobody said anything. They were all too frightened to say anything, and Hermione was just about ready to burst into tears, but she held it all back. Neville didn't bother to.

            "I hate t-this tournament!" he bawled, "I hate this school! And I hate P-Professor Dum-Dumbledore!" he turned around, face in his hands, opened the door and ran inside the common room, positively howling now. But nobody was up to running after him and attempting to cheer him up; that was Harry's job. Nice, gracious and kind Harry Potter who wouldn't hurt a fly. Hermione shook her head, her head casting down to the ground, and walked through the door too, tears streaming down her face.

…~'*'~…

A/N: Okay, first off… I'm SO SORRY! It had to be done, same with the 'issues' in the last chapter! But don't worry your pretty heads! I've got good ideas for the next chapter! Secondly, sorry if this is a bit late. Things to do, you know, like watch the Leafs loose every bloody game and homework. Lots and lots of homework… *sigh*… well, school is almost over, and the Harry Potter DVD is coming out in 4 days! Yeah! Thirdly, I'd like to thank all my reviewers! You're awesomely cool! And fourthy, since I can't think of anything and this is totally off topic… what is with the weather? Last weekend it was supposed to be around 30 degrees and it turned out to be 5 all week! ARGH! And all those record breaking temperatures in the States! Bloody hell, I think I'm going to get sucked into a hurricane or something. I can't wait till next winter… maybe it'll be a high of 35! *Note: I love to ramble*

Don't forget to but the Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone DVD and never underestimate the power of a man who drinks Molson and his pet beaver!

                                                                                                                                                                                   -Love, Lady Darkshine