Harry hadn't been able to join them for their visit down to the lake to meet with the Durmstrang students. Umbridge had finally set the date for his detention and with only three hours warning he'd been summoned to her office. They'd briefly debated refusing on the grounds of a prior obligation, but decided not to push the matter just yet.

They'd enjoyed a swim in the lake without Harry - the Hogwarts students tentatively dipping in their toes whilst Hermione and the Durmstrang boys played tag with the squid in deeper water. It seemed that the tradition of starting duelling lessons with a dip in the fjord had continued over the centuries, but Hermione had the advantage of home ground; she'd been chucking her sandwiches to the giant squid since her first year and it evidently remembered her kindness.

They withdrew to the banks as the sun began to set, redressing in their robes and performing drying charms on one another. It was an odd dynamic; of Krum's friends, three clearly knew something about her. They followed the seeker's lead, being friendly to her face but watching her cautiously whenever her back was turned. She could understand why, if they knew that she was the long lost betrothed of the boogie man in the dark. The other two were presumably not so close; sticking with their more athletic peers by merit of being in the same year group, or dormitory. They regarded her with open suspicion, bordering on hostility and one refused to interact with her entirely, muttering Russian insults under his breath whenever she was within hearing distance. Hermione's Russian was just good enough to understand them.

'Excuse Poliakoff.' Krum explained as they climbed the lawns back to the castle. 'The memory of Grindelwald is still very fresh at Durmstrang and your appearance has only made matter worse.'

'Worse?' She questioned, glancing over at the boy. He was weedy looking, with a pointed chin and a goatee that did nothing to detract from his rather pointed chin.

'Yes, worse. Grindelwald was defeated, but his followers were not, nor were his ideas. The children of his followers are stirring up trouble, carving his sign and spreading his words. Those of us who lost family to Grindelwald are nervous.'

'I have no intention of following in Gellert's footsteps.' Hermione assured.

'Did Grindelwald, at your age?' Krum asked, before striding ahead to catch up with Ginny, who was discussing the latest broomstick. Something called a Spectre, that was entirely customised, including the colour and... she stopped paying attention, pondering Krum's words.

Had there been signs of what Gellert would become? There was his actions under the influence of the wand, and a genetic predisposition perhaps. But before the wand he'd been caring and generous - perhaps a little superior, arrogant, but absolutely committed to his ideals. She was no better. So did that mean that she was likely to follow the same route?

She didn't understand enough about what had happened, and what had turned him into the nightmarish wizard from history. History only told a scant history of their youth; a vague outline of the revolution, twisted almost beyond recognition, mentions of Russia, the fall of the fortress and the eventual death of Grindelwald's mother, and the collapse of the covens with it. There was no record of how Lady Grindelwald had died, no record of who Gellert had lived with until his expulsion from Durmstrang; again, the motives were lost to time. Then, he suddenly seemed to spring into public in all his dark and demented glory; murdering and manipulating his way through the ministries and prisons of the world.

Really, she needed to speak with him about it, but it was not a conversation to be had in public, or via letters. It would have to wait, and she'd just have to hope that she wasn't treading in his footsteps in the meantime.

Her musings were forced to a close when they reached the great hall to find that it had been decorated for Halloween. She didn't often attend the Halloween feast at the school; it felt insulting to celebrate the muggle festival in direct contravention to the wixen tradition of Samhain. Instead, she usually spent it in the transfiguration classroom, performing their little memorial.

The decorations were extravagant. Live bats fluttered among the candles and carved pumpkins leered from the edges of the room. The ghosts were being particularly conspicuous, floating around the tables and reenacting their deaths for groups of seated students.

'Hermione!' Harry called over the heads of the students and she turned to see him hurrying down the staircase.

'How was your detention?' She asked, as soon as she didn't have to shout over heads.

'Weird.' He shrugged. 'She spent half an hour telling me about the ministry and the dangers of unapproved magic, then she just gave me five strikes with a cane and let me go.'

Harry displayed his hands for her inspection. His palms were slightly red, but Hermione frequently received worse in her sword lessons with Gorlois and Mordred. The boy-who-lived flexed his fingers to demonstrate that nothing was broken, then shoved them into his pockets. Of course, corporal punishment had been rife in the 1890s and two of Hermione's teachers at Durmstrang had been large proponents of it, whipping out a switch at the slightest opportunity. It seemed to have become less common in the present, and certainly wasn't bandied about, but Hermione knew that both Neville and Theo had been disciplined before. It certainly wasn't quite so taboo as among muggles.

'I imagine it would get worse with subsequent infractions.' Hermione decided. 'Five strikes would be worse if you weren't used to Mordred clobbering your hands with a training sword.'

She jostled Harry with her shoulder as she turned into the great hall. Her ward groaned, remembering the constant reminders that he was holding his blade like a broomstick - his wrists stiff and strong, ready to forcefully correct the stick's course rather than bend with the hits. They parted, heading over to their respective tables.

For the entire meal, talk of the upcoming selection for the goblet of fire dominated discussion. All the Durmstrang students had put their names in, but it turned out that Warrington had put his name in, along with the Gryffindor chaser and the Hufflepuff seeker. Derrick and Bole had applied as well, but the general consensus was that they were too thick to be considered "the best".

They gorged themselves on cauldron cakes, savoury pumpkin pies and creamy mashed potato. The northern visitors, unlike the French, seemed to enjoy the meals and they dug in heartily, only slowing down as dessert finally drew to a close and Dumbledore got to his feet. Instantly, the hall fell silent and every face turned to look at him expectantly. Hovering behind the Hogwarts Headmaster, the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons heads waited anxiously.

With a grand gesture of his wand, Dumbledore extinguished every candle in the hall, leaving the leering pumpkins and the goblet itself as the only light in the room. It cast ominous, deep shadows on everyone's faces; highlighting cheeks and chins in sharply contrasting orange and blue and hollowing out eyes and cheeks.

Then with a bright puff of fire and a surge of magic, the flames roared out of the goblet. A slip of charred parchment fluttered down and Dumbledore caught it easily. There was a moment of tense silence as he read it and everyone leaned forwards in anticipation.

'The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum.' Dumbledore announced clearly. Instantly, the Durmstrang students erupted into cheers, stamping their feet and clapping Viktor on the back. Hermione applauded with the rest of the Slytherins, reaching out to shake Viktor's hand as he got up. The international star was congratulated by his headmaster before vanishing into the side room.

Slowly, silence fell again. Eyes refocused on the goblet, which flared again a second later. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment easily.

'The champion for Beauxbatons, is Fleur Delacour.'

A second wave of cheers swept the hall as the Veela girl climbed to her feet and tossed her hair over her shoulder. Unlike the Durmstrang students, there was very little support form her peers. Several had burst into tears and the others looked silently dejected. With the grace embued by her creature heritage, Fleur swept up the aisle and disappeared into the side room with a flash of silver.

If the anticipation for the other two champions had been thick, the anticipation for the Hogwarts champion was set to turn the air to treacle. It was like the entire hall breathed in at once when the flame roared up again, then everyone released that breath in a roar as Cedric Diggory was announced. The Hufflepuff seeker stood up to thunderous cheers from the school - even Warrington was cheering for him.

Dumbledore actually had to set off firework from his wand to quiet down the hall after Diggory followed the champions into the side room.

'You'll be supporting Durmstrang, then?' Theo asked with a grin as Dumbledore began explaining something else.

'Of-' Hermione cut herself off abruptly as the goblet flared once more. A fourth piece of parchment fluttered up into the air, borne upon a tongue of crimson fire. Blankly, Dumbledore reached up and caught the slip. There was a long silence, during which the professor's impressive eyebrows drew together. Then;

'Harry Potter.'

There was a moment of shocked silence, then as Harry was pushed up by the combined effort of Ginny and Neville, Hermione jumped to her feet. Her heeled boots rang out across the hall, louder even than the buzzing in her ears and she stormed up to the head table.

'What is the meaning of this?' She hissed furiously, as soon as she was within conversational distance of the headmaster.

'I would like to know this as well.' The Beauxbatons giantess agreed.

'Please.' Dumbledore peered down his nose at Hermione. 'Let us get Harry along first.'

The boy-who-lived had arrived and Hermione sneered at the headmaster before wrapping him in a very public embrace.

'We'll get this sorted out.' She assured, pulling away and giving him a gentle push in the direction of the doorway. Harry obeyed, moving off in the correct direction as the other officials involved in the event shook off their own shock and clustered around the headmaster and Hermione. As if the thud of the small door closing behind Harry had broken the spell, a roar of noise suddenly swept across the hall. McGonagall stepped up to dismiss the students and Dumbledore hurried off towards the door. Hermione pursued quickly.

They entered to find that Bagman was already there, had on Harry's shoulder and the trio of older champions looming over him.

'Madam Maxime. Zey are saying zat zis little boy iz to compete?' Fleur asked immediately.

'Absolutely not.' Hermione snapped, before Madam Maxime had even had a chance to take breath. 'Harry will not be risking his life for petty glory.'

'Unfortunately, Miss Granger... Putting one's name into the goblet constitutes a binding magical contract.' Vampiric, stern faced Crouch informed her.

'A binding magical contact?' Hermione virtually snarled. 'Harry did not put his name in the goblet.

'Who iz zis?' Madam Maxime demanded. 'Zis is a matter for ze adults. She should not be here.'

'I am his magical guardian.' Hermione answered the French witch, before turning back on Dumbledore and the ministry officials. 'Harry did not put his name into the goblet.'

'Unfortunately, whether he did or not bears no effect on the result.' Dumbledore folded his hands, a somber expression painted across his face. For once, she almost believed it was genuine, but she didn't care. She certainly, however, could believe that he was telling the truth.

'How?' She demanded. 'How was my ward entered into a binding contract without his knowledge or consent?'

'Hmm-hmm.' The feminine cough drifted out of the gloom, and every eye shot up to see Umbridge appearing through the shadowed doorway. At her back was the Minister of Magic, hurriedly dressed in his robes and still adjusting his hat and tie.

'If I may? What evidence is there that Mr. Potter did not put his own name into the Goblet of Fire?' Umbridge tottered towards them, a wide and nasty grin on her face.

'I was with him the whole evening, after which he returned to his dorm with Neville.' She answered quickly.

'Ah! But did Mr Longbottom remain awake all night? Mr Potter's school record shows a proclivity to night time wandering, after all.'

'But I didn't!' Harry argued.

'To the contrary, Mr Potter. All the evidence says otherwise.'

'But he vuldn't have been able to cross de age line.' Krum argued in Hermione and Harry's defence. He earned himself a glower for his trouble.

'Oui! Zere must have been a miztake!' Madam Maxine agreed.

'There was no mistake.' Dumbledore denied. 'Did you ask an older student to put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?'

'No!' Harry denied vehemently.

'I want to know why a magical object powerful enough to enter someone into a potentially deadly tournament without their knowledge or consent was protected only by an age line? Anyone with a grudge against Me, Harry or Gellert Grindelwald could have put his name in!' Hermione raised her voice so that it could be heard over the bickering of the two international headmasters.

'So far, you have yet to provide any evidence that Mr. Potter did not submit his own name.' Umbridge tittered. 'One must wonder at the wisdom of having such an unruly boy who's only real authority figures are a classmate and a convicted criminal. Would I be correct in saying that the two of you live in that large castle with only werewolves for company?'

'What?' Harry demanded, at the same time as Hermione denied it.

'But there are no parental figures? Merely guests?' Fudge looked concerned now. 'I was under the impression that you both lived with Miss Gorlois' muggle relatives.'

'We have the guardians and Mordred. Sirius Black currently resides in Avalon permanently.'

'So Mr Potter's only authority figures are his classmate, who has her own poor disciplinary record, a convicted criminal, a recently escaped prisoner who spent most of his adult life behind bars and an immortal knight.' Umbridge grinned widely. 'Minister, Mr Crouch, has not every effort been made to make this tournament as safe as possible?'

'Naturally!' Fudge blustered. 'The tasks have been carefully designed to provide minimum risk whilst still testing the competitors at the required standards.'

'Then perhaps this might serve as a long overdue lesson to Mr Potter on the nature of the consequences of his actions.' Umbridge sounded positively gleeful.

'This is ridiculous. Harry is the victim.' Hermione glared at the assembled adults, daring them to contradict her.

'My dear Hermione. There is no choice. Harry simply must compete.'

She snarled at Dumbledore.

'I want to know everything about that goblet. I want the details of the contract, the enchantments that power it, the spellwork that gives it's parameters. If there is any way out, I will take it.' She held her hand up sharply as Bagman drew breath to object, 'I don't care about your stupid little tournament. My ward has been placed in danger by outside forces, and you are failing to respond appropriately. Gellert has been counting sleights against you, Albus Dumbledore, but I am counting this sleight against the Ministry of Magic.' She levelled a finger towards Fudge and Umbridge, and although she was shorter than both, they stepped backwards warily.

'Hermione!' Harry muttered, tugging at her sleeve. 'It's fine.'

'No Harry, it is not fine. I swore to defend you. They have placed you in danger, and now they insult both your honour, and my ability as your ward. Magic accepted the bond, magic judged my family worthy. I can not stand here and allow us to be insulted this way.'

'Okay.' Harry agreed, subsiding. He didn't look happy, but he would follow her lead. She turned back to Dumbledore and the ministry officials. Behind them, forced back into the gloom, the foreigners looked between them all like spectators at a tennis match.

'As of tomorrow, I will be hiring tutors to supplement Harry's education. They will be accommodated on the grounds, or provided with access to a floo should they desire it. Harry will be released from any lesson his tutor deems not-beneficial and I will be informed as to the upcoming tasks so that I can best prepare him.'

'That is hardly fair!' Karkaroff exploded from the shadows. 'The rules state that competitors may not receive assistance from teachers or parents.'

'I must agree! Zis iz most irregular.' Madam Maxime agreed.

'Mr Karkaroff is correct.' Crouch confirmed, 'the rules state that competitiors must complete the tasks alone and unassisted-'

'Do the rules not also state that competitors must be of age?' Hermione challenged darkly. There was an awkward silence. 'If you allow one to be broken, then I will amend the others as I see fit.'

'Then I want to be able to train my champion as well.' Karkaroff decided, moving to stand behind Krum.

'I vill az vell.' Madam Maxime agreed. Dumbledore glanced over at Cedric Diggory, who had remained very quiet throughout the confrontation. Then he sighed heavily, glancing at the ministry officials.

'We will have to allow it, I suppose. Miss Gorlois is correct - young Harry is at a disadvantage, and entered in a dangerous contest, whether though his own fault or not. However, the other rules will remain in place, now that accommodations have been made for the unusual circumstances. I believe Mr Crouch can elaborate on the first task?' Dumbledore turned to Crouch, who took a deep breath.

'The first task is designed to test your daring and courage. None of you will know what the champions will be facing, or what task they must complete. It will take place in November, in front of the other students. Champions will contend alone, armed with only their wand and their wit. You will receive information about the second task at the end.'

There was a moment of silence as this news was digested.

'Is that all?' Hermione eventually asked incredulously.

'That is all.' Crouch confirmed with a sneer. 'Are we finished, Albus?'

'I think so.' Dumbledore sighed heavily, casting one last regretful look at Harry and Hermione. 'Can I offer you a room for the night, Barty? Cornelius?'

Crouch declined, but Hermione didn't wait long enough to hear Fudge's reply. Harry trailed behind her, and they made it all the way to the doors of the great hall before a voice called for them to stop. She turned on her heel to face the Minister for Magic. He was kneeding his hat nervously between his fingers.

'Go to bed, Harry. I'll see you in the morning.' She instructed quietly. Harry nodded, heading off up the stairs in a clatter of footsteps against stone. Hermione took a deep breath, using it to make herself seem taker and older as she turned back to face Fudge.

'Miss Gorlois. I truly must apologise... I never expected anything of the sort...'

'My patriarch will be hearing of this.' She informed him, answering the question that he hadn't yet verbalised. The pallor of his face confirmed that that was not the news that he'd been hoping for.

'Most unfortunate...' Fudge muttered, giving his hat a sharp twist. It buckled sharply in the middle. 'An unfortunate series of events all around. Won't happen again. Don't know what Dumbledore's up to. I'll have Delores take action... yes.'

Hermione observed the elected official for a moment, then decided that she had no desire to reassure him.

'I must go. I have a letter to write.'

She spun on her heel, sweeping towards the Slytherin dungeon in a billow of black school robes. She just knew that she wouldn't get any peace in the dungeons either - everyone would want to know exactly what was going on, and what had happened. She'd be lucky to get to bed before midnight.