It was quiet. Too quiet, Hermione thought, calling out over the music yet again, "Any movement? Report!"

"No, ma'am!" Neville responded immediately (he was really getting into this, Hermione thought...not that she could judge, she was having a lot more fun than she'd expected), followed by Nick, Violet, Theo, and Mallory, each from a different angle: "Nada!" "Nothing!" "Still clear, Granger" (Theo clearly exasperated, despite the fact that it had been at least several minutes since the last time she'd asked), and "No, I thought I'd just stand up here and watch the enemy do shite and not say anything..." Well, there was no need to be sarcastic, Mallory...

(It was easy to forget that Mallory was related to Snape, until she came out with something like that. Then the resemblance was almost uncanny.)

Hermione resisted the urge to go back up on the wall to see for herself. It wasn't as though she was likely to be able to make out anything the others couldn't, she just...wanted to double check. Sextuple check.

Instead she turned to the Weasley twin standing between herself and the violinist. Lyra insisted that it was ridiculous to try to identify bonded twins individually — the boys had given an awkward sort of shrug and agreed that it didn't really matter which of them was Fred or George, no point in pretending there was when they weren't even pretending to be separate people at the moment (aside from avoiding making "all you singletons" uncomfortable) — so she was trying not to think of him as 'Gred' or 'Forge' or whatever. "Do you have eyes on Fleur and company? When the fliers are out of danger."

They'd mostly been focusing on Harry and Cedric, helping them keep track of their various pursuers. Enyo's little group of 'dance partners' (as the Twins referred to them) were close enough to the stunt-flier she could feel them out for herself, but Krum and the veela chasing the boys were far more mobile.

Rowle was already out, apparently — Hermione didn't know what she'd done, but she suspected Lyra had to have done something, because the other teams couldn't possibly be stupid enough to concentrate their fire on a single member of the Hogwarts offensive squad, leaving Katie to tear up their ranks in the utter chaos which was the beginning of the fight. She'd only taken one out entirely, but several others were wounded. Three of them had ducked back into the trees after a minute or two — the Weasleys had lost them in the chaos, and Hermione had told them to focus on the fliers.

There was little enough they could do to help Katie or Lyra by keeping them apprised of the broader situation, she'd figured it was better to just not distract them. (All the Twins had had to say regarding Lyra was, "Holy hell! We knew she was the Blackheart's daughter, but...blimey! And the little Cæciné is just as scary. That is definitely not International Dueling League approved, harmless little schoolgirl magic— Christ! Looks like Lyra's holding her own alright, though." Ryan hadn't even bothered putting it into the music.) And of course, there was no sign of Astoria on the screens at all, which was very much according to plan.

Weasley nodded, eyes closed, the better to focus on what he was seeing from the stands. "They're headed this way, Krum and two veela hot on their twigs — literally! they're going to burn the whole bloody forest down at this rate! — Krum conjured something, broke up their formation, peeling off, Potter north and low, Diggory south, canopy-level, Krum on Diggory, veela pincer closing in on Potter — drop! Yes! They're both behind him again, circling around, Potter and Diggory both coming up on the Fort—"

"Ryan, have them come in low!" Hermione ordered. "On the walls! Incoming veela and Krum trailing our boys! Try to pick them off!"

She ignored the various assenting responses, because Weasley had switched focus. "Not sure how much longer Envy can keep that up — flashy trick-flying is impressive as hell, and she's got another one out by friendly fire, but she's going to get tired eventually — Black and Cæciné...I don't even know what's going on over there— Fuck! Katie!"

"What?!" Hermione demanded.

"It's okay, she's back up, took a nasty-looking bone-breaker to the right shoulder, but they were stupid enough to stop and see if she was going to yield — switched hands, cast a numbing charm on herself, and cut that fucker's ankles out from under him while the Durms were eyeing up Bird-Boy — they're gonna double-cross Beauxbatons as soon as Katie's down, count on it—"

"Yeah, okay, but do we have eyes on Delacour?"

"Ah...yes. Got her. Shite! Found our missing fighters! Ingrid and that skinny bloke from Durmstrang," as though anyone else had any idea what their enemies looked like, "and the lilin bitch who blew up Katie right at the start — they met up with Fleur and the lilin bitch you and Mal sonic-blasted, looks like they're working on enchanting something... Oh shite."

"WHAT?"

"That's a bomb. Elf zoomed in and... That's definitely a bomb."

"Oh, shite!" They hadn't planned for bombs!

"Language, Granger," the hypocritical redhead said, mockingly enough that if she didn't need him to tell her more about what the hell was going on out there, she would definitely hex him or smack him in the back of the head or something. (All the adrenaline of the game was making her feel a bit...violent, apparently...)

"What kind of bomb?" she demanded, ignoring the rest of the team shouting incantations and throwing curses into the air — hopefully they'd be able to get at least a couple of the enemy fliers.

"Ah, runic fragmentation sort of thing. Stone enchanted with an omni-directional repulsion curse to propel shrapnel enchanted as cantrips — you know, shape a bunch of little bits and use a weak sticking charm to make them into a shell." Hermione did not know, but she would take his word that that was a thing mages did. "Looks like woodchips enchanted to stun or burn or explode on contact. It's on a three-second timer if I'm reading that right, can't make out what they're saying, but—"

"But there's only one way to get it in here," Hermione interrupted. Trigger the thing, have a veela flame in, drop it, and flame out.

And then...then they'd probably follow up with another wave of fire-walkers, which would probably be a hell of a lot more effective, with the defenders stunned and/or reeling...

"And the other thing—"

"There's another thing?!"

"Yeah, er...kind of looks like a cannon? Well, I mean, it's really just a hollowed-out tree-trunk, they can't mean to actually use explosive curses to power it, probably just to help them aim with repulsors... Oh, fuck, that could be a problem... It looks like they're enchanting their shot to transfer transfiguration reversion spells."

...unless they were going to just attack the walls somehow. Which might be a good thing, honestly, Hermione was far more comfortable with the idea of their enemies attacking them from outside. "But the protective enchantments should stop them un-transfiguring the spears..."

"Not if the reversion spells turn them right-side-out again and they follow up with disruption charms and more anti-transfigurations."

Well...fuck.

Those walls could stand up to the entire bloody Auror Corp my arse!

Okay, one problem at a time. Worst case scenario they'd do both — drop the bomb and then have the veela walk back in to distract them while the Durmstrangers destroyed the walls — but, okay focus, Hermione! "How long have we got?"

"Ah...a few minutes? Ten, tops."

"All of the shite they're throwing at us with the bomb can be stopped with shields against physical intrusion, right?"

"Yes? The explode-on-contact cantrips will still throw out concussive force, but—"

"And you said it's on a timer?"

"Yeah." The Weasley swallowed hard.

"Do you know how to trigger it early?"

"...What are you thin—"

"Answer the damn question!"

"Well, yeah, sure, I guess, but—"

"Mallory! Nick! I need a physical force shield dome enclosing the entire area inside the rampart, and I need it two minutes ago! Weasley, Ryan, get up on the wall, out of the way; Vi, grab the prisoner, too, renew that sleeping spell while you're at it; Weasley, trigger the bomb before the veela has a chance to flame back out. Nev! What's the fastest-growing plant you've got?"

("Nott, we need you, too!" Nick yelled in the background, after exchanging a few hasty, near-frantic words with Mallory.)

"Er...probably the strangling kudzu? Especially if I pour more energy into it. But you know how dangerous—"

Yes, she knew he didn't want to use that against anyone unless it was as an absolute last resort. That was fine, she didn't want him to use it on people. "Get as much of it as possible covering the palisade. I want a living shield covering every bloody inch of those transfigurations!" Anti-transfiguration and disruption spells wouldn't do shite to a living plant. "Where are they, Weasley?" They could be planning on moving, but hauling their 'cannon' and ammunition around would be a pain in the arse, so...

The boy pointed. "Just far enough under the trees to be out of sight."

"Nev, mark the angle, concentrate your efforts on that front!"

"Ma'am!" He gave her a grim nod, moving carefully around the circle of the wall, hands and eyes already glittering green again as he drew the plant — one which had answered his call earlier, along with the tentacula — out of the ditch, its tendrils weaving through and around the bronze spears disturbingly quickly.

It was joined by half a dozen other creepers and briars as Neville took the initiative — if he thought urging multiple plants to grow rather than focusing on just the one would get their defensive fortification-cum-trellis covered more quickly, Hermione would trust his judgment. The inner courtyard of the fort was nearly enclosed now, a shimmering, near-translucent bubble of force rising from the circle the seventh-years and Theo had cast (something cooperative, they were all chanting under their breath, repeating the same motion with their wands again and again) to form a perfect, slightly iridescent dome — like a giant soap-bubble, Hermione thought, trying not to devolve into slightly hysterical giggles.

It was a hell of a lot more durable than a soap-bubble, though, or it had better be, at least. It would be better yet if they didn't need to maintain it, but she supposed that as soon as it stopped the shrapnel they could drop it. That just left the problem of what to do if anyone tried to fire-walk in — though, hopefully, if the first veela or lilin, the one with the bomb, didn't come back, they'd decide not to send anyone else in again, or they might stay outside and help attack the walls when it became clear the defenders had come up with an answer to their bloody cannon. If they did come inside, she supposed they'd just have do the same thing they'd already been planning to do if the veela were stupid enough to make a second attempt at a blitz attack: start throwing curses at the first sign of fire.

"We've got movement!" Vi shouted — the only one still keeping watch, crouching on the dirt wall beside the veela boy Hermione had stunned. (They'd used a heavier sleeping charm and wrapped him up in a cocoon of conjured ropes and mostly-harmless vines, because, well, they didn't really know what else to do with him.)

Sure enough, the Durmstrangers were edging toward the treeline with their makeshift cannon — Hermione was so distracted watching them, trying to make out the Beauxbatonnais, that she didn't notice the lilin flaring into existence behind her until the bomb went off, not with a boom or a blast, but a sound like the cracking of an enormous egg, followed by explosions which shook the rampart as the cantrips loosed themselves against the shield. These almost (but didn't quite) drown out the keening of the injured lilin caught at the centre of the attack, which only ended when Violet threw a sleeping spell at her, as well.

The first volley of cannon-shot bounced harmlessly off the blanket of vines, prompting Fleur and the remaining lilin to take to the air rather than attempt to follow their comrade into the Fort, enormous birds-of-prey, one white and gold and the other black and violet, darting and diving and throwing gouts of magical fire at the plants. Neville shrieked, as though he had been set on fire, every tree and shrub and blade of grass Hermione could see shivering, withering, as he drained the life from them to reinforce the burning vines, the flames snuffed out in a furious burst of green.

Nick managed to pick off the second lilin, she crashed to the ground with a sick thump. (She didn't revert to human form, as Hermione had half-expected, but she guessed she didn't really know much about veela and lilin.) At the edge of the trees, the Durmstrangers were panicking as roots and branches lashed out at them, driving them into the clearing. One tripped and was immediately engulfed by grass — clearly not as dead as it looked — becoming little more than a small hillock. His thrashing stilled after a few seconds.

Holy crap. Neville hadn't just killed someone, had he? Hermione wondered, shock crashing over her like a bucket of ice-water.

They were in so much trouble...