"Across the Pond"
Chapter Two
That very same day, three thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean, the ancient and serene place that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry reposed in the earliest autumn chill.
It was so comforting, to be at Hogwarts. The place seemed timeless, unbound by the restraints of the cycle of ageing. The war was now at its peak. The Order of the Phoenix and the government Aurors were in a deadlocked stalemate on almost every front; however, it seemed as if they were making headway—the number of free and living Death Eaters was shrinking rapidly. The (rather short) Civil War of the Dementors had resulted in the victory of those who remained loyal to Dumbledore and the destruction of the traitors.
Now, deep within Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking through the stone hallway that led to the Entrance Hall, talking excitedly about the contest.
"I can't believe they're actually sending one of us to America!" said Hermione. "I bet they'll be sending me to New York—the wizards there are so sophisticated and cosmopolitan…at least, that's what I've heard. And of course Professor Dumbledore would have to choose me—I mean, who else in this school is qualified to represent Hogwarts?"
"I think," said Ron, "that you should spend a little more time concentrating on defeating Lord Voldemort and a little less time daydreaming about chasing after daft Yanks!"
"And, of course, you would think that way, being the backward bigot that you are!" Hermione viciously spat.
"Will you two just shut up for one minute!" demanded Harry. "We're almost to the Great Hall, and I'd like to enjoy breakfast for once in a long year!"
As the trio sat down at the Gryffindor House table, Hermione crossed her fingers and begged silently to be chosen. After a few moments, Professor Dumbledore stepped up to his owl podium. He rummaged around in his pocket for a moment and finally found the parchment envelope, inside of which rested the name of the contest-winner.
He opened the envelope and smiled. "Against all odds and expectations,I hereby announce the winner of the contest to be—" Hermione stood up, and readied herself to go up and accept her award—"PADMA PATIL!" Like air going out of a balloon, Hermione's heart sank. Her bottom lip quivered as she saw Padma shake Dumbledore's hand and smile at the camera of the Daily Prophet photographer who was there just for this momentous occasion.
Harry patted her shoulder comfortingly, and Ron felt guilty for teasing her in the hallway.
As they returned to Gryffindor Tower, Peeves the poltergeist swooped down in front of them and began to sing an obnoxious little ditty he had composed almost off the top of his head:
"Grangie, O Grangie now surely you jest
The proud little girl who once beat her chest
Is humbled now beyond all repair
Maybe someone will burn off her hair!"
"Get out of it, Peeves!" barked Ron. Peeves complied, whizzing off and making obnoxious sounds as he went.
Upon their return to the dormitories, Hermione went straight to bed. Once there, she fell asleep while stewing in her own juice. She felt sorry for herself, and soon her lip hurt from pouting. This poutiness was not a characteristic Hermione much valued in her, and by morning she had cured herself of it.