By the time the weekend of October 30th finally arrived, the castle had settled into a routine with its new students. The Durmstrang students still ate almost exclusively at the Slytherin table, but their expressions gave the impression that it wasn't entirely by choice: especially when Draco Malfoy was enthusiastically speaking so loudly about his father that you could hear him clear across the hall.
Meanwhile, the Beauxbatons students had spread across the three remaining tables, slowly warming to the Hogwarts students. Hermione could admit that many at Hogwarts had quickly dismissed the Beauxbatons students as silly and spoiled and, well, French. But if her classes with them had taught her anything, it was that they were tougher—and kinder—than she'd expected. Two weeks ago, she'd been flatly knocked on her arse in Dueling Club by Marie Leclerc. Fully expecting ridicule, she'd instead been met with a warm smile and a strong, manicured hand to help her off the floor. They'd both shared a good laugh and Hermione had resolutely squashed her embarrassment at being beaten and asked Marie to teach her the spell she'd used. Somehow, against every expectation, the two had become friends, even occasionally sharing meals together in the Great Hall.
On Saturday night, Marie waved her over to the Ravenclaw table for the first Triwizard feast. Reluctant to leave the comfort of her own routine but equally worried about upsetting her new friend, she hesitantly walked over and sat with the contingent of Beauxbatons girls. Soon, the whole end of the Ravenclaw table was full of nothing but girls, including several from Durmstrang, the Hogwarts Head Girl, and Cho Chang, who she'd caught Harry staring at longingly for weeks.
Marie took a long sip of wine before tossing her head back and laughing wickedly at something an incredibly beautiful woman named Fleur had said. Grasping her shoulder tightly, Marie leaned in close to grab her attention.
"Hermione, let me introduce you to Fleur. She is determined to be our champion. But we both know it will be me." Both girls laughed, obviously sharing a joke Hermione wasn't in on.
Fleur turned to look at her. She was stunning in an almost otherworldly way, and Hermione was reminded that this was the girl that was rumored to be part Veela. Hermione had never felt so inadequate next to someone in all her life.
"Hermione. Is good to meet you, yes? Marie tells me you have much spirit, that I'd have to worry if you were seventeen."
A compliment? Hermione flushed, pleased and embarrassed at how poorly her thoughts of Fleur had been all term.
"Thanks. But I'd make a terrible champion."
Fleur looked at her, unconvinced or unimpressed, she wasn't sure. Hermione took a sip of pumpkin juice for lack of anything else to say.
"We must take strength from our fellow women these next days," Marie announced to the table. The rest of the girls at the table were looking at Marie and Fleur now, the Hogwarts students obviously curious about what she meant. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang girls all nodded as one, sharing some thought she didn't understand.
"Indeed. These men, they think only a man can be a champion. That women should be a princess, waiting to be rescued. By a man. We will show them that a woman can be a champion and WIN. Let them fear our power." Fleur's face looked almost feral as she grinned.
In that moment, grinning at the thought of battle, Hermione decided that Fleur wasn't a stuck-up girl at all. She was an Amazon straight from legend.
Caught up in the spell of true female comradery for the first time, Hermione enjoyed feeling a part of this sacred ritual. She drank the wine her new friends pushed on her, laughed at their jokes as they enjoyed supper, and even told a few of her own.
Growing up, Hermione had always gravitated towards Greek mythology, playfully daydreaming about being a goddess, the background a genteel and civilized gathering of gods complete with bowls of honeyed wine and grapes. Now she felt as if she were a Viking out of Norse mythology, feasting in Valhalla with her tribe of warrior women after some great battle. It was a heady, almost magical feeling that thrummed through her, undoubtedly aided by the wine.
As they were eating dessert, Fleur turned to her, gesturing with a quick toss of her head that sent her hair streaming over her shoulder like silk. "That Krum. He looks at you often, Hermione."
Red as a beet, she squashed the urge to turn around and look at the Slytherin table where she knew there would be a pair of dark eyes.
"Oh, yes. We're friends. We sit together in Alchemy."
Marie shot her a sly, knowing grin. "That is not the look of a man with friendship on his mind."
"Whatever you say," she replied, desperate for this conversation to end.
Fleur inspected her nails as if she were entirely uninterested in the conversation. "Oui. I do say. I am very good at reading men. They are simple creatures. And that one? If you want him, he is yours." Her eyes snapped up to Hermione's. "Best snap him up now, little lion."
Hermione was saved from having to respond by Professor Dumbledore.
"Welcome, welcome. I hope you all are good and full tonight as we celebrate new friends and the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament. Tonight will be your first opportunity to enter your name for consideration, with the chosen students announced at our Halloween Feast on Monday night. Classes, of course, will be cut short for the celebration. Now, Mr. Filch, if you would please bring in the cup."
Filch, chest puffed up in pride, slowly hauled in an intricately carved wooden chest, from which he drew a simple wooden goblet. Placing it on a stone dais at the front of the great hall, he backed away quickly as brilliant blue flames suddenly shot to the ceiling, illuminating the ancient wooden beams through the illusory sky.
"This is the Goblet of Fire, which has chosen the school champions for the Triwizard Tournament since its inception. To enter the tournament, you must write your name and your school on a slip of paper and drop it into the flames along with a drop of your own blood."
Whispers started at this all across the Great Hall. Even the professors looked surprised.
"Blood? How utterly barbaric!" Cho Chang whispered harshly.
"To ensure the entrant is willing, I am sure. Willing blood is very different than unwilling. Powerful magic." Marie whispered back.
"But isn't blood magic dark?" Hermione tried to regulate her voice, but she suspected she was a little louder than she'd intended.
"You English. So black and white. Blood magic is old magic. Powerful magic. People fear power they do not understand." Fleur was looking at her intently, as if trying to take her measure. "We do not teach it much at Beauxbatons, but they study it greatly at Durmstrang."
Hermione flushed at the implication that she'd added that tidbit for Hermione and Hermione alone. As a warning, perhaps? Or a test?
Dumbledore waited until the whispers died down before he resumed his speech. "As a further precaution that all entrants are willing and of age, I'll be adding an age line around the Goblet. I warn you: do not try to fool it, for you will not be successful." At this, he shot a meaningful glance over at the Weasley twins, who'd put their heads together the moment they heard the words 'age line.'
"You will have until four o'clock in the afternoon on Monday to submit your names. I implore you; if you are at all uncertain about your desire to compete: do not submit your name. Submitting your name is a binding magical contract, and you will have no choice but to compete if your name is selected. There will be no turning back."
A hush fell over the Hogwarts students at this proclamation, as some began to weigh the consequences for the first time.
"For those chosen, you will be freed from final exams for the year. Additionally, you will be living in separate quarters with your fellow champions: for support, friendship, and, I'm sure, some much needed peace and quiet."
Dumbledore waived his wand in a strange, circular pattern. Golden flames surrounded the Goblet of Fire for a brief moment before extinguishing, leaving only a thin gold line encircling the cup and the dais. Something about it felt forbidding and despite the wine warming her stomach, Hermione felt cold all over.
=/=/=
"Come on Hermione, let's get down to breakfast. I want to see who enters the tournament!" Ron was up exceptionally early, eagerly bouncing his leg up and down as he perched on one of the squishy common room chairs.
Squashing the instinct to chide Ron for being too excited about something she thought was rather silly, she settled instead for a good-natured sigh and a "yes, Ronald."
"Who do you reckon will enter?" Harry asked, falling into step with them as they left for a very early breakfast.
"No idea. Except the twins of course. They spent all last night whipping up an aging potion."
Hermione shook her head and huffed. "As if that's going to work. The headmaster is far too powerful for his age line to be beaten by a simple aging potion."
Winding their way down the moving stairs, the three friends continued to bicker about the relative merits of the potential Hogwarts champions. Ron was convinced that it could only be a Gryffindor, while Harry seemed content with the idea of anyone except Cedric Diggory. As they rounded the final hallway leading to the entrance hall, all three were shocked at the sheer number of students already up and milling about in the Great Hall.
Ginny was already seated at the Gryffindor table and happily waved them over, a piece of toast in her hand. Beside her, Neville Longbottom beamed at them through a mouth full of oatmeal.
"What've we missed?" Ron asked, grabbing a plate and beginning to pile it with bacon and eggs.
"Not too much. I've not seen any of the foreign students this morning. You did miss Angelina Johnson putting in her name."
"She'd make a good champion," Harry said as he started in on breakfast, passing Hermione the plate of toast she always favored.
"Oh! Look! Look!" Ron, who'd been facing the door waiting for more potential champions to appear, forcefully sprayed eggs across the table in his excitement. He pointed at the door, oblivious to Hermione and his sister staring at him in abject disgust.
Ginny shot her friend a look that clearly said 'and you wanted to date that?'
Hermione shrugged. There was no defense she could come up with in this moment. Not when she had to pick a piece of half-chewed scrambled egg out of her hair.
"Come on you two, turn around. The whole bunch from Durmstrang are lining up." Ron insisted, going so far as to start leaning forward across the table in an attempt to bodily turn them.
When Hermione glanced over her shoulder, she saw that the Durmstrang contingent was indeed assembling into a single-file line outside the open doors leading into the Great Hall. As she looked around, she saw that Ron wasn't the only one to have noticed. Most of the Hogwarts students had chosen to abandon breakfast and taken to sitting on top of the house tables so they could get a better view of the excitement.
It was with considerable embarrassment that Hermione allowed Ginny and Harry to convince her to join them in clambering onto the table to watch the spectacle.
Within minutes, the Durmstrang students began a cohesive march into the Great Hall. It was certainly a show of discipline, and the contrast between them and the Hogwarts students sitting between their breakfast plates was stark. Each of the Durmstrang students looked incredibly serious, their eyes focused forward and their backs straight.
When the first student (a boy Hermione recognized as Poliakoff from Alchemy) reached the age line, he straightened even further before stepping forward and drawing a small silver knife from his belt. Pricking his finger, he smeared the blood across his slip of parchment and dropped it into the goblet. With a brief whoosh of red flame, the Goblet accepted the entry and Poliakoff exited the circle to allow the next person through.
"Woah. Never thought they'd be brave enough to bring those here." Neville piped up, setting his breakfast bowl aside in favor of joining in on the excitement.
"What do you mean, Neville?" Harry asked, his face a picture of befuddlement.
"Those knives they each have, on their belts? Those are ritual knives. Real silver. For blood magic. My gran showed me one once when we were on holiday in Germany."
"Blood magic?" Harry looked quite startled. "That's real dark stuff, isn't it?"
"According to the Beauxbatons' girls, it can be dark, but it's not always." Hermione piped in, feeling somehow protective of the Durmstrang students.
"Hermione's right. Gran says it's really old magic, and that really old magic can do a lot of great things and a lot of terrible things. But it's not inherently evil," Neville said. "Not that I'd ever want to learn it," he added quickly, obviously concerned he'd painted himself as a potential dark wizard.
Ginny turned towards Hermione as they all continued to watch the Durmstrang students. "I saw you sat with all those fancy French girls yesterday. Seemed like you were having a gay old time."
There was something biting in Ginny's words that Hermione was struggling to interpret.
Hermione nodded. "Marie invited me. It felt rude to say no."
"I thought Ron was about to march straight over there when he saw you. Couldn't decide if he was going to try and drag you away from the competition or try to take your place. I swear every time he looks at that one Veela he positively drools." Ginny's tone made it clear exactly what she thought of Fleur.
"She's not that bad, you know. She was actually very nice. And fierce. I think you'd like her, actually."
"Ugh, no thanks. You couldn't pay me to hang out with all those manicured girly-girls. I think I'd die from boredom if I had to sit with them all night listening to them complain about whatever. I don't know how you did it."
Was this what she sounded like when she spoke about ('made fun of' her conscience whispered) Lavender and Parvati and all the other girls who didn't want to be her friend?
She was saved from too much introspection when Ron's excitement reached epic proportions. The second to last Durmstrang student had just submitted her name and the last one left in line was none other than Viktor Krum. Hermione couldn't help but watch as he straightened his shoulders and glanced over, catching her eyes. Feeling caught out for staring at him, she almost looked away, but at the last moment summoned her courage and remembered Fleur's pronouncement from the night before. 'If you want him, he is yours.' Maintaining his gaze, she gave him a shy smile and decided to watch.
Viktor stepped through the age line, bracing himself as if he was worried it would reject him. In his left hand, she could just make out the small bit of parchment that must have his name on it. With his right, he drew the small silver knife from his belt. Nestling the blade in the palm of his opposite hand, Hermione watched in horror as he closed his fist and in one smooth motion swept the blade through, clenching tightly after and holding his bleeding fist above the goblet. Catching her eyes again, he opened his hand and the bloodied paper slowly fluttered down into the goblet. The bright red burst of flames painted his face in harsh lights and shadows.
She was utterly unable to look away.
Maintaining his intense gaze on her, he pocketed the knife and brought his clean thumb to the long slash on his palm. Pressing tightly, he slowly moved his thumb across, leaving perfectly healed skin in its wake. A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips as she watched him and Hermione could tell her whole face and neck were starting to flush red.
She wrenched her gaze away as Harry began speaking.
"Wow. That was really cool."
"That was blood magic. Serious blood magic." Ron added, looking simultaneously frightened and in awe.
"He must be really good at it. Uncle Algie used to tell me stories about the great dark wizards who could do things like that."
"Oh for heavens' sake." Hermione huffed. "Viktor Krum is not dark."
"You never know, Hermione. He does go to Durmstrang. We should be careful."
"It was really cool though." Harry repeated, seemingly wary and entranced all at once.
Hermione stood up, desperate to escape the conversation and the pounding of her heart. Something about Viktor's heavy gaze had made her feel dizzy and frightened all at once, and she'd rather not contemplate what it meant any more at the moment.
"Well, the excitement is mostly over, I suppose. I'm going to go and get started on the essay for potions. I'd like to finish that today."
"Only you Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head fondly. "Though, do you think you could look over my essay when I'm done?"
"I suppose," she replied bitingly, although she could admit she was secretly pleased to be asked for help. This year had been very bruising for her ego.
"I think I'll come with you to the library," Ginny announced. There was a gleam in her eye that made it quite clear she wanted an interrogation and not a study partner. Linking her arm through Hermione's, she nearly dragged her out of the hall and didn't let up until they'd made it to the first floor.
"You have been holding out on me."
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
Ginny glanced around to make sure they were alone. "Two words," she whispered loudly. "Viktor. Krum."
Ginny searched her friend's gaze and let out a shout of triumph when Hermione flushed an even deeper scarlet. "Aha! I knew it! Tell. Me. Everything."
"There's nothing to tell! We study together sometimes. That's all."
"Nu uh. He was blatant. The only studying that man wants to do is of you. Behind the greenhouses."
She thought she'd spontaneously combust from embarrassment. "He does not!"
"Oh, I think he does. And you owe it to the female population here at Hogwarts to show him a very good time."
Hermione scoffed.
"Fine. You owe it to me to go snog his brains out behind the greenhouses. Because I want all the details afterwards. You are the luckiest witch I've ever met."
Hermione's mouth opened and shut several times, but she couldn't seem to produce any kind of noise, let alone a response. Ginny grinned at her.
"You know, if you asked very nicely, I'd march right up and tell him exactly where to meet you."
"You wouldn't!"
"Oh, I would. But only if you asked."
They continued up another flight of stairs in companionable silence.
"Do you want to?" Ginny finally asked.
"Do I want to what?"
"Snog him. I mean, he obviously wants you, but do you want him?" For once, Ginny's voice didn't contain an ounce of teasing.
"Yes." Hermione replied in the tiniest of voices.
Ginny smiled and looped her arm back through Hermione's.
"Good. I'm glad." She paused for a long moment before breaking out into an impish grin. "I can't wait until Ron finds out."
"Ugh, don't even make me think about it. You know how he's absolutely determined to ruin everything these days. Besides, there's nothing for him to find out."
Ginny waggled her eyebrows.
"Yet."