Chapter 24 - Sponsored Content
"You brought your rooster," said Hermione sitting on the edge of her bed. She seemed pleased, although it looked like she was wearing a pair of stylish shades (in the dungeons) so it was a little hard to tell. Still, Ron was glad for it. It looked like the Slytherins were finally warming up to her, and teaching her to dress properly (Ron wasn't one to make about manners, but he always felt a little embarrassed on her behalf when she strolled to class without a single wrinkle in her robes). He'd spent the past few days thinking of an excuse to come talk to her, let her know they were square, when she, Hermione Granger, had asked him to meet her in The Slytherin Common Room. He'd been a little worried about coming into the den of snakes, but he knew his place. When The Hermione Granger asked to see him he'd have to be mental to turn down the invitation. It was probably about Harry, but still… This was Hermione Granger.
In the end he'd been worried for nothing. The Slytherins hadn't looked at him twice, because he was Ginny's brother so he had to be alright. Hermione had wanted to talk somewhere more private, so naturally they'd gone up to the girl's dormitory. Strange, but again, he wasn't about to say no. The stairs had turned into a slide, but Hermione had tossed him a rope and he'd climbed up. Hermione laid a hand beside her on the bed. It was almost as if she li- Oh, hah hah. Yeah right. He wasn't that stupid. Ron stood proudly, unwilling to fall for her prank.
"Well yeah… You told me to keep it with me wherever I went, and…" Ron fidgeted with her Order of Merlin in his pocket. "I trust you Hermione. If you tell me to carry around a rooster, there must be a good reason. If there's anything you need to tell me, I err… I won't judge, no matter what. We all make mistakes, but if there's one thing I've learned it's that it's always better to just come clean and start fixing the mess."
"I've been talking with your brothers recently." Hermione smiled shyly, and took off her glasses. "Are there any girls you like?"
Yeah… She was definitely teasing him alright. Haha. Asking to talk with him privately, inviting him to her room, getting his hopes up. As if there was any way a girl like her would ever like a guy like him. Well he'd… He'd… Ron blushed. She thought he was worth teasing! That was something right?
"Are there any girls you like?" Hermione asked again, in a slow patient voice. "Please be honest. It is of the utmost importance to me and your brothers."
"I err…" Ron's bloody blush was blushing. "I reckon there is one, yeah…"
Ron couldn't believe his own audacity. She'd reject him, but he'd actually said it! To a girl as brilliant as Hermione he'd as much as written a love lett-
"As I suspected," said Hermione briskly. "You'll just deny it when a girl asks the question. Understandable. I certainly wouldn't answer if you asked me the same. Listen Ronald, I've a very important task for you. I need you to ask the boys around the school which girls they fancy. I won't expect you to do this for free of course. I'll pay you two galleons for your work."
He'd actually told her! He'd done it! Wait, Hermione had said something? She must've turned him down. Too bad, but he'd always known that was how his crush would end. "I'd still like to be friends," Ron said maturely, managing to keep the disappointment from his voice. She and Harry made a better couple anyway. He was happy for them. Really, he was.
"Are you feeling sorry for yourself again?" Hermione asked, peering into his eyes.
Nope! Ron studied the thread count of her blanket. He remembered what she'd said about legilimency, and there was no way he was letting her in his head.
"Ronald," said Hermione crossly. "It's rude to not look at someone when they're talking to you!"
Wait. Wasn't it a good sign that she wanted to read his mind? Ron met her gaze. Hermione looked away quickly, her face red. Was she still angry? But he'd done what she'd said! Girls were impossible!
"Well I want to assure you that I'm not creating some made up job in order to make you feel better." Hermione huffed. "I'm not offering you this task because you're a dear friend. That's quite insulting! I would never create such inefficiency in my operations!"
"Sorry?" Ron asked blankly. What the bloody hell was she on about? Job?
Hermione smacked him with a pillow. "Were you even listening?"
"Yeah, you turned me down," Ron said.
"What I said was that I need you to figure out what girls the boys at this school fancy. Market research is a critical component in any business venture. I can hardly make intelligent decisions if I'm blind to my target audience can I?"
Wait what? That's what she'd been on about? She hadn't even bothered to listen to him! What kind of daft wanker didn't pay attention when someone was talking to them? She was just waiting for him to finish, so she could say her piece! Well, that was the problem with girls, but what were you gonna do? Couldn't live with 'em. Couldn't live without 'em. For all her booksmarts, Hermione was about as pleasant to talk with as a mountain troll, it was no wonder nobody really liked her.
Hermione patted his shoulder. "As you've just seen, I've no talent with people. I often miss cues that are quite obvious to others. If I were to go around asking such personal questions I imagine it would be quite disastrous. People have always seemed to find me as pleasant as a troll, that's why they don't like me, I think… Even if they think I can't tell, it's always so obvi…" Hermione sniffed. "When it comes to studies and magic, I'm quite good. But people… They always seem to think that I look down on… Perhaps… Perhaps for good reason. It's my fault… Of course it is. You were trying to tell me something, weren't you Ronald? But I didn't listen. I never listen. That's probably why you don't like…Because what I've got to say must be so much more impor- I'm sorry. But that's why I need you. You've a real knack for people Ronald. So no, I'm not just humoring you with this job."
Well, if she was gonna be like that… Ron took Hermione's pillow from her, and smacked himself.
He'd been thinking all kinds of nasty things. Hermione thought she was unlikable? Yeah right! She was brilliant, nice, and the prettiest witch of their year! The wankers were just jealous. He was just jealous! And, Hermione ought to know that right? He was just being a git because he was jealous. He liked her plenty, and not just for being brilliant or pretty. She was the only one who'd ever tried to make him feel good about himself. Always including him, and here he was trying to make her out to be some kind of ogre. And yeah, sure people seemed to feel comfortable telling him things, but that was just because he didn't go around acting like an arse all the time like everyone else. Anyone could do it if they wanted to. He just tried a little harder to be a decent bloke was all.
"What are you still doing here?" Hermione demanded, shooing him away. "Time is money. Off you go."
Ron left with a smile. It was good to see she'd taken her loss at the Winter Dueling Tournament in stride. He'd been worried about her, but it seemed she was back to her schemes. He'd give her back her Order of Merlin some other time.
Now, how was he actually going to go around asking blokes which girls they fancied? That seemed a bit damn forward, maybe he'd go for some kind of list…
After a few days he'd compiled his findings. He tracked down Hermione in The Great Hall.
"I'm sorry," Ron said, as Hermione read through his sloppy chicken scratch. "You're always trying to include me, and I'm always making a mess of things. The boys wouldn't listen to me and fed me a bunch of lies. I knew I'd be horrid at it."
Penelope Clearwater. Cho Chang. His blooming sister! As if any of them could possibly compare!
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "It looks like a fine list to me, Ronald."
"You're not noticing any name missing?" Ron asked pointedly.
Hermione looked the list up and down, pretending to be confused. "No."
Well… Well! He wasn't about to spell out who was missing, even though it was pretty obvious. After all his rants about girls, he'd realized that boys were far worse: a bunch of rotten, no-good, cowardly liars. Pathetic and sickening! The only blokes with any integrity, any honesty, any courage, in all of Hogwarts were obviously Cormac McClaggan and Vincent Crabbe.
XOXOXOXOX
It was five fifty, just ten minutes before supper in The Great Hall. It was a good time slot. Hermione had, of course, considered choosing the start of the campaign to be the Christmas Feast, as that was surely the premium time slot. But in the end, she'd decided that the extra time from airing her little spectacle a few weeks early would more than offset the loss of potential eyes. Granger and Weasley could still make up for it through word of mouth after all, but it was important to put themselves out there at the beginning of the holiday season.
"Hey Hermione, can you help me study my Charms midterm?" Asked Penelope Clearwater loudly. Clearwater was an older girl, who had polled strongly among Ravenclaw and Gryffindor boys ages 14-17. "There are just so many spells, I can't remember them all! And I'm just a year away from my OWLS, whatever will I do?"
Penelope's delivery was a little mechanical, and felt scripted to Hermione. Perhaps Ginny would have been a better choice after all, or maybe Cho Chang. She could only hope the ignorance of the student body would save her.
"Why I couldn't possibly help Penelope," said Perfect Actress Hermione. "I'm but an average first year student."
In another world, Hermione would surely be some kind of child actress. She'd stated her line with such force, such conviction! In some ways it seemed a shame for her script to be so round-about, but everyone knew that humility was one of The Hermione Granger's defining character traits, and the audience would surely grow suspicious if she seemed at all inauthentic.
"But everyone knows you're a genius," said Penelope. "Studying must be easy for you. That's why you always get O's."
"Not true, not true," said Hermione. "I'm not any smarter than your average first year. I just study harder."
"But I study hard too," said Penelope. "And yet the spells always slip from my memory. I heard that you had all the First Year textbooks memorized when you got here. So you must be a genius."
It was only through sheer strength of acting that Hermione kept from rolling her eyes. The dullards always complained, always told her she was a genius, that her grades and accomplishments weren't truly caused by anything she'd done, why it was all due to genetics. If only they had Hermione's brain then everything would be them too. As if she hadn't worked for her talent, as if their mediocrity was anything less than a product of their own laziness and despicable lack of ambition. Yet she was the one who was punished, she was the one who had to switch schools, the one who had to switch classes, again and again and again. Why didn't the other students ever bother to apply themselves?
"Hmm," Hermione said. "I did indeed. But that doesn't make me a genius. Why anyone could do it, if only they had the correct study tools."
"Study tools?" Asked Penelope.
"Don't tell me you've never heard of study tools," said Hermione, thoroughly shocked, as was required in the script she'd expertly crafted. "No wonder you're struggling! Here let me lend you this. My Study Wheez Sheet. Produced exclusively by The GW Company."
Hermione lent Penelope the prototype The Twins had created.
"So if I have this tool, I can study like you?" Penelope asked.
"Well…" Hermione said, with a restrained smile. "...Yeah… It's all about the Sheet."
"Thank you Hermione," said Penelope. "With this I can finally get my grades high enough to impress the boy I like."
"Why would he care about that?" Hermione asked, her voice quivering. That hadn't been in the script, Penelope was freelancing- the daft wanker! Follow the bloody script!
"Doesn't everyone want their partner to be smart?" Penelope asked innocently. She giggled shyly. "I know I do." Then she skipped back to the Ravenclaw table while Hermione seethed. She should've chosen Ginny, the redhead would have neve-
But the Great Hall whispered amongst themselves. Yes, yes, a few off script words wouldn't kill her carefully crafted marketing campaign. Strange, Professor Quirrell and Headmaster Dumbledore just seemed puzzled. Disappointing. They hadn't recognized the quite obvious advertisement.
Professor Snape's dark eyes observed her curiously. He wasn't the only one curious, as Hermione found herself answering questions from The Very Evil Barty Crouch Junior in their next lesson together.
"That's it? That's all you're after? Money?" The ignorant disdain in Barty's voice was truly sickening. "There's nothing deeper? Surely this is some convoluted plot to kill me?" He almost sounded hopeful.
Hermione looked around his classroom. At a bottomless suitcase worth ten galleons, at a clock worth three, at the dozens of desks and chairs worth two and one galleons respectively. All required for him to function properly, likely paid for by the school or his father.
"Rich boy," Hermione murmured under her breath. Funny how those born into money were always the ones who seemed to question its value. Mankind's greatest treasure was imagined treasure. The muggle economy was worth an estimated 24 trillion US dollars, or about four trillion galleons. The wizarding world's economy was worth an estimated four million galleons (admittedly by her own calculations, the magical world didn't even have economists!), and they could use magic! But, unfortunately their currency was literal gold. Only a fool would underestimate money's power.
"You can't buy power," said Barty. "Nothing of true value can be bought."
Care to back that claim up with some evidence? Because unless Hermione was quite mistaken, soldiers and workers provided their services for money, not out of loyalty or fear or even shared vision. That was of course an argument that relied on day-to-day interactions. On the macro scale, what great empire had relied on money except literally every single one of them? Even a true barbarian like Ghengis Kahn could not rule without providing his generals their treasure, nevermind any modern empire. She thought all this in her head of course, because she'd found Barty's arguments often tinged with the worst of all properties: dogmatism.
"Go on, read my mind," said Barty, gazing into her eyes. "Offer me a sum. See if I'm the least bit tempted. Buy my loyalty. Perhaps you might offer Flamel a thousand galleons for The Philosopher's Stone, ten-thousand, a million maybe? Save us all the trouble eh? If he takes up the offer, I'll foot the bill."
It would be futile. Barty was, for some reason, proud of his fanaticism. It was shameful. There would be no reasoning with such a loon. No. If she wanted her freedom, she'd have to earn it in other ways.
She went for her wand. "Avada Kedavra!"
Barty barked a laugh as his nose bled. "Ah, you see it too. The Dark Lord didn't rely on anything as silly as love or cooperation or morals or money. He owns you Hermione, not through some subtle trick of manipulation, but because if you disobey you'll be sent off to Azkaban. True power comes from force."
"We'll see," Hermione said, shaking. She put on her shades, and stared at a primitive wax candle half melted on his desk. She didn't dare think of the subject any longer, and Barty seemed content to let it drop. They focused on learning elaborate False Memory Charms for the rest of the lesson.
She and The Twins spent the rest of the week putting up posters of Penelope Clearwater, Cho Chang, and Ginny Weasley using Study Wheez Sheets for their male demographic, and one of Ronald Weasley using it to appeal for the female demographic. While she'd needed Ronald's help to ascertain which girls were popular, it was beyond obvious that if she wanted to sell to girls all she'd need was to post a few pictures of Smoldering Ron. At the end of the week they took down the posters, and splayed them out over a table in the middle of The Gryffindor Common Room.
The Twins stared in disbelief at all the signatures for preorders scrawled on the bottom of their posters. Hermione was surprised too. She clucked disappointedly. The vast majority of the purchasers had been boys. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised, although not written in Hogwarts a History, by Bathilda Bagshot, it seemed consistent with her knowledge of the magical world that Hogwarts would follow traditional gender roles. It probably took a brave, studious girl like err… Lavender Brown, to eschew such cultural norms. Yes, that was the only possible explanation. Afterall if Ronald bloody Weasley couldn't convince them to buy her product there was no other conclusion to be reached (afterall, Ron had proven his wisdom when he'd followed Hermione's advice and kept his rooster with him and started talking to her again. She was magnanimous enough not to require a direct apology, Ron was afterall, a man of great pride).
"We're in line to make 200 galleons," said Fred.
"That's as much as Dad makes in half a year," said George.
"Yes, yes," said Hermione consolingly. "We'll start making real money when we start selling to other schools. But we ought to start small."
She empathized with their disappointment completely. She wasn't angry at their complaints in the least. Indeed, their concerns were well placed and well deserved, but how was she to know that the witches of the school would be stuck in the 15th century?
"Small?" Asked Fred.
"We've got over a hundred orders!" Said George.
Indeed, it was embarrassing. What kind of business survived on a hundred orders? But Steve Jobs and Wozniak had started Apple by selling computers in their garage, and now Apple was one of the largest corporations in the entire world.
"We know how to make one now," said Hermione, trying to keep The Twins thinking positively (even if this entire operation was unsuccessful, it was well worth it if it helped The Twins become responsible and productive members of society). "That's what's important. Building replicates ought to be easy. Focus on that, and I'll focus on marketing."
"Easy?" Asked Fred angrily.
"About as easy as stealing gold from a leprechaun," said George.
"It took us two weeks to make that prototype," said Fred.
"Not the least because of all your unreasonable demands," said George.
"You kept asking us to add features," said Fred.
"Photos to pull up at a touch," said George.
"Old notes to pull up at a word," said Fred, throwing up his hands.
"Phrases to pull up lists of old notes," said George.
"All of Bill and Percy's essays," said Fred.
"We'd have been completely lost without the map to guide us," said George indignantly.
"Shut up George," said Fred.
"And now you're asking us to build a hundred of them!" Complained George.
"The magic simply doesn't work like that!" Whinged Fred like a baby.
"It's impossible," The Twins said together.
"Figure it out," Hermione advised, rolling her eyes. Engineers, right? The true enemy of any visionary. Always so eager to make excuses for why things couldn't be done, it would be her life's work to drag them kicking and screaming into the productivity for which they thought themselves incapable. Such a hassle, but she supposed without her engineers there would be no product so she had little choice but to put up with their infuriating immaturity. "You've got a week. Hire some help, if you need it. We've got a decent budget now. Oh and while you're at it, why don't you make it so all the notes stored in each Study Wheez Sheet are stored in every Study Wheez Sheet. Link them all together with magic. That way students can share their work with others! We'll have a large database, why it'll be just like the internet that Mum's always talking about! Won't that be neat?"
"Yes, yes," said Fred sarcastically.
"Connect them all in some kind of magical network," said George.
"Should be simple enough!" Said Fred a tad too loud.
"We only have to invent a whole new spell!" Said George hysterically.
"To go along with the dozen we've already managed," cried Fred.
"You'll have us slaving like house elves," The Twins whinged.
House elves?
"House elves! That's it! We can make the house elves do it!" Said Hermione delightedly. "There are house elves in Hogwarts, I read all about it in Hogwarts A History by Bathilda Bagshot. I've seen the two of you with extra food before supper. You must know where to find them! Free labor, what a windfall!"
Perhaps it sounded bad on the surface, but one had to remember that house elves were not human, and did not therefore possess human righ- desires. It was in a house elf's nature to despise freedom, afterall. It was truly for their own happiness that they worked free of charge. And so it was definitely not slavery, hurrah!
"Now look here Hermione," said George.
"It isn't their job to help us," said the bleeding-heart Fred.
"Oh please," said Hermione. "The house elves enjoy working for their masters. I read all about it in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander."
Although it did sound suspiciously like Greek propaganda. Still though, so long as the house elves agreed to their labor without coercion it could hardly be considered exploitation.
"I'll leave the negotiations to the two of you," said Hermione happily.
"Now look here," said Fred.
"We're not going to do your dirty work-"
"For free, I know," Hermione said, nodding at the reasonable protest. Hermione tossed them a coin wrap of a fifty galleons. "The unpaid services of house elves is widespread is it not? They likely have their own networks to prevent inbreeding. See if you can get the house elves to pass the word onto other schools. This is just the beginning. Why make 100 galleons when you could make 1.000? Why make 1.000 galleons when you could make 10.000? Think Bigger."
"10.0000 galleons…" said The Twins, gulping. At last they saw things rationally.
Hermione rubbed her hands together. Her plans were proceeding exactly as she had foreseen. In a few brief weeks she'd acquired a sweatsh- labor force, some engineers, some salesmen, and a market researcher. It was a good start, but it was missing something, the most critical component of any business…
Peschbel's Canon!
Sometimes she really was too smart for her own good. Such knowledge would surely get her killed, or worse, bankrupt! She put on her shades, rushed to a bathroom, made sure she was alone, and pointed a wand at herself. "Obliviate."
Huh? What was she doing in here? Had she honestly just asked that? Why else would she be in the bathroom but to take a pee? Yes, yes, what had she been thinking? Honestly!
About a week later, The Twins reported that they had come to terms with the house elves. The greedy little elves had demanded a quarter of the profits of the goods they produced.
"You've got to be kidding!" Hermione scoffed. "Have you no idea how negotiations work? I didn't give you all those galleons just for you to give it all away! They like doing the work! Surely you can come to a more reasonable agreement."
"Hermione," said Fred.
"Have you actually met a house elf?" Asked George.
"I hardly see how that's relevant," said Hermione, huffing indignantly. "I've read all about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them By Newt Scamander."
The Twins shared a glance.
"You can't always trust what you read in books," said Loony Fred.
"Especially when it comes to other intelligent species," said Crazy George.
"They've an agenda," said Worrying Fred.
"To justify the current power structure," said Bad-News George.
"With wizardkind naturally on top," said Unfortunate Truth Fred.
"The Wizard's Burden," said Self-Righteous George.
Hermione folded her arms, and bit her lip. "But they're magically contracted with Hogwarts. If you just order them to do the work, they have to do it right?"
"Sure," said Fred.
"If you're a complete git," said George.
"So then," The Twins said in unison. They glared at her. "Are you?"
Hermione glowered. What was wrong with valuing profits? This sentimentality was probably why the Weasleys were so poor. It wasn't fair! Everyone else was doing it! Why was it her responsibility to be some bastion of morality and ethics? If The Twins truly cared about elvish rights they ought to pass legislation, instead of strong-arming her into a competitive disadvantage. It was all performative anyways, a grand conspiracy to impress girls, Hermione was absolutely sure of it! 25% for unskilled labor? Had they gone completely mad?
They were lucky they were Dear Ronald's brothers, or she'd have fired their arses for their nerve! Implying she was a git, merely for trying to obtain services at market-determined rates!
"Fine," said Hermione crossly. "But you'll come to regret it."
Luckily they were able to meet their quotas with the help of the greedy little house elves. She still had to return home for the Winter Holidays and explain to her parents why she'd failed to reach their agreed upon ROI. Pleasant. Still though, she was able to make some intriguing purchases, and returned to Hogwarts excited to give her favorite professor a very special gift (all her professors were her favorite of course, but this professor was her most favorite).
"I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot," Hermione said, graciously pouring Barty a refreshing coca cola. "This drink was invented by Doctor John Pemberton in 1886. Go on, have a sip."
Barty stared at the fizzing beverage suspiciously (she'd mischievously forgotten to put a coaster on his expensive mahogany desk. Hah!).
Hermione carefully poured herself a glass of cola as well (again forgetting to put down a coaster!), careful not to include too much ice in her beverage. It was a crime that the ice in the pitcher always floated on top, unskilled waiters always got too much ice in a pour (forcing Hermione to gulp it down quickly, like some kind horrid American fraternity boy [which was actually quite fun, not that she'd ever be such a dunderhead to admit such a thing in front of her parents]).
"See?" Hermione said, taking an elegant sip. "Refreshing and delicious!"
"So…" Barty tapped his fingers on the desk, with a small smile. "What kind of poison have you put in it?"
"None," Hermione said, affronted by the very notion. "I'm not some kind of ghastly serial killer!"
"Take off your sunglasses," said Barty.
"It's too bright in here," Hermione said.
"Take them off," said Barty.
"Honestly, we've been through so much together. Surely I deserve a little trust." Hermione huffed, and took off her stylish shades. "You and your constant vigilance. I knew you would act like a paranoid loon, so I even took a drink from the same beverage myself! But very well, I'll humor you. I've nothing to hide afterall."
"Legilimens," said Barty.
"Occlumens," Hermione said, meeting his gaze. She really hadn't poisoned the cola, not that she was going to give him free access to her mind of course! A girl had her secrets!
Hermione's mental defenses were quite strong, her concentration excellent, and it mattered not at all because Barty Crouch Junior was a fully fledged death eater and Hermione was just a first year. His magic cut through hers like a hot knife through butter.
"I see," said Barty. "It really wasn't poisoned."
"As I told you," Hermione huffed. "I hold you in the highest of regards Professor Junior. All your worrying is really very silly. I would very much like to repair our relationshi-"
"And the ice cubes?" Barty asked.
"Extortion is wrong!" Hermione fumed. All that work magicking the poison into their centers for nothing! "What do you expect from me?"
"To try to kill me," Barty said with an amused, crooked smile. He vanished the ice with a flourish of his wand. "And failing, because you're a weak little firstie. Clever though, very clever. And logical. But most important of all, rational. You've made your disdain for The Dark Lord clear, but you've never acted on those feelings because you've correctly predicted the outcome of such a rash decision. Personal feelings aside, you're an ideal partner." He took a sip of the cola. Then downed the rest of the glass, finishing it off with a satisfied belch. "Fantastic. Better than anything wizardkind could come up with. They really are quite clever aren't they? Muggles. Powerless though. Even more than you."
Hermione scowled. "You can't rule through force!"
Barty's laughter was warm and amused. "Oh Hermione… I must say, your delusions are adorable. Pretending to argue with me, when deep down you agree. A few moments ago you tried to poison me. Premeditated, strategic murder. What is that if not the very definition of force?" He put a hand on her head, and affectionately made a mess of her fashionably bushy hair. "We both know there's a lord in every room. One. The one with the power. This understanding we share is what allows us to work together."
Hermione held her tongue. He was quite correct. Force and authority had to be coupled for order to come about. Their separation resulted in chaos. Only a complete fool would disagree...
He was still a berk of course. As if being right changed that! What a complete arse! She would eliminate him, and free herself from this truly horrid situation. Being forced to do The Dark Lord's bidding, she'd never been so embarrassed!
Hermione put on her stylish shades, and compiled a list of steps to remove the source of her discomfort. She couldn't help but smile.
If she wanted to grow strong, the first step was to obtain a pile of rocks. Not ordinary rocks of course, that would be silly. They'd need to be of uniform shape, size, composition, and weight. Obviously.
Author's Note: Hmm... Not sure how I feel about this one, but I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. It wasn't in the original outline, but I felt the plot needed a chapter like this. Next we'll have a short training chapter so Hermione can be prepared for the challenges that face her in the third act. Originally I had Hermione referring to Crouch as Junior but then changed it to Barty. I'm curious if anyone knows why, because I am personally very amused by that little detail and it won't reveal anything big about the story. Anyways, onto the reviews.
ViviTheFolle - I've finished the first draft of the story, and trust me, all the screaming will be worth it for any Ron fans. Next chapter will mark a turning point for Ron, as he finally starts getting some major wins. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for the review!
Gja03 - Don't worry about Ronnie, it'll all payoff in the end. This story is mostly about Ron and Hermione, and Ron's ending was one of the reasons I finished the story. Thanks for the review!
Merendinoemiliano - Ginny's motivations will be explained in Chapter 30 - True Colours. If they still don't make sense at that point, let me know and I'll clear things up in the reviews, and maybe go back and make some changes. Thanks for the review!