A/N: I am endlessly sorry for the delays in updates. As shared in my last chapter update, I fell in love… It turns out that writing fictional romance is harder when you're so busy living through a real one. But we are slowly getting used to existing together instead of just nonstop 'need to spend every second with you' and so I hope to have more time to write soon. And hopefully you won't have to wait another 3 months for the next chapter… I will try harder! I promise!
Oh, and since I last wrote, I had the absolute privilege to travel to London, England for work and while there managed to visit the Warner Bros studio tour. Standing in the Great Hall and then later in front of the model of Hogwarts was awe-inspiring. I was once again reminded of how much this fandom has impacted me over the last 20+ years. What magic it has been.
Seeing Voldemort would have been terrifying enough on its own. But there was something so sinister and unnerving to see him with a smile plastered on his face. There he stood, the man responsible for unspeakable horrors, forcing the room to crumble inward with fear. Yet the students had seen him smiling more frequently than he did anything else.
Nobody knew what to expect. Perhaps he would announce the post-graduation plans for Muggles or start enlisting students to join his ranks as Death Eaters. Either of those things wouldn't have been a surprise, no matter how unpleasant. But nothing could have prepared them for what was in store: Another Hogwarts tournament designed to put students' lives at risk.
"It brings me great pleasure to imagine Hogwarts during your last Tri-Wizard Tournament," Voldemort explained gleefully. "This event holds a special place in my heart. It was then that a loyal and faithful servant gave me the greatest gift in returning my body to me. And at great sacrifice to your school, with the loss of a spare, the Diggory boy."
Hermione cast a glance at Cho. The witch's eyes brimmed with tears at the mention of her lost lover. What was a fond memory of Voldemort had been the beginning of many nightmares for the students, and Cho's may have been second only to Harry's.
Harry.
"I have been planning to host another event to celebrate this great school once more. Unfortunately, we will not be bringing in foreign schools to play along. This will be for us." His words were coated in a slimy thrill.
Slowly, and then in abrupt chaos, students began to look at one another. There were a few cries and many more gaps as the realisation dawned on the room. There would be another Tri-Wizard Tournament. But it would not be just any Tri-Wizard Tournament. Horrors had erupted from the last instance of pitting students against one another in a glorified deathmatch, but this one would fall under a leader who was prepared to play them like puppets. A single polyjuiced professor pulling the odd string was nothing compared to what could come next.
The room quieted again as if they had collectively remembered that a monster was grinning at their confused fear. Nobody wanted to feed into it, even if they could hardly help it.
"Tomorrow night, you will all gather here with me," Voldemort continued, emphasising his presence. "We shall draw names together. But tonight… Tonight, we feast!"
The head table filled with food as Voldemort turned his back on the hungry students. The Dark Lord filled his plate, and the Carrows followed, digging into plates of roast and peas, potatoes, and even cakes. Despite his earlier takings, their leader did not touch a single piece.
Awkward moments began to pass. The only sound in the room came from the chewing sounds of a particularly noisy Carrow and the loud silence from those around him.
Eventually, the remaining tables became filled with food. There was no roast, potatoes or cakes and sweets. There was, however, plenty of cold broth and bread rolls. Nobody commented on it, as plenty had lost their appetite in the minutes that preceded the food's arrival.
Later, when they had been ushered out of the Great Hall, all of the common rooms took out their frustrations in their own ways. The Hufflepuffs chose to focus on the positives and the camaraderie they had found in each other. They would not whisper about who would get selected and instead enjoyed their last night in the dark. The Ravenclaws brought out books detailing past Tri-Wizard tournaments, with different years taking on different challenges, ending the night in a show-and-tell discussion of what they had found. The Slytherins kept to themselves, with many students not knowing where their roommates' loyalties lay.
Meanwhile, the Gryffindor common room could have broken records for its noise levels at the exact moment their door swung open. Many were yelling, defying the Dark Lord's wishes. Others were sobbing in fear, breaking down in ways they had avoided for weeks. But after a moment of disorder, the older students found their spots around the fireplace and looked around, waiting to hear who would speak first.
Finally, as if she had expected to go first, Ginny cleared her throat.
"He's bored," she started. "He misses the thrill of the chase. He's got practically everything now, doesn't he?"
"What a sadist," someone whispered from the back of the room.
"As if we didn't already know that," said another.
"He wants a reaction. He wants us to be scared," Ginny said.
"Well, then he's doing a good job of it," Neville spoke up.
The room started drowning in complaints, questions, and insecurities. Some started questioning how they would choose the champions. Others wondered out loud what the tasks would be. Would another spare be made at the end of the tournament? Or would Voldemort let somebody win without tragedy? Hermione couldn't bring herself to wonder. All that went through her head was Harry.
Harry.
She pictured him bravely fighting a dragon and his sheepish smiles upon hearing how well he had done in the first tasks. She remembered his fear at first and eventual pride. But most importantly, she remembered how it had all been for nothing and that Harry would have turned back time again and again if it meant that Cedric hadn't been taken from them, along with a flicker of light that he had held inside of his chest until that point. It had all started with that first tournament, and here they were again, facing it without him.
Despite Ginny's continuous stares in his direction, Ron seemed to be overtaken with similar thoughts, as he had contributed nothing to the discussion. After it became clear that neither lover would be speaking anytime soon, Ron quietly excused himself. He extended a hand to Hermione as he rose, which she took and followed him to the dorms above.
"Are you okay, Ron?" Hermione asked as the two found themselves in an empty room.
"Colloportus," he whispered at the door, ensuring that they would have their privacy, before walking toward his bed.
They sat in silence, both knowing the answer to Hermione's question.
"I can't do this again," Ron whispered to the ground.
Me neither, she thought.
"We have to," she said.
"I could volunteer, put my name in, or do whatever he expects," Ron offered. "It would mean that somebody else wouldn't have to."
Hermione's chest fell at the thought of it. She had watched one best friend deal with it already. And it wasn't that Ron wasn't just as brave or as strong as Harry. He would make it out on the other end, perfectly intact. But she had always been more protective of Ron. Her Ron. She almost offered to volunteer instead but knew to keep quiet as Ron wouldn't have allowed that in their craziest plans.
"But it would mean that you would have to," she finally said.
She kissed him first this time. She was softer than he was, pressing delicate pecks across his lower lip. When he did not respond with the passion of their last encounter, instead resting a warm hand on her waist, Hermione trailed her lips elsewhere, planting kisses across his cheek and down to his jawbone until she reached his ear. She shyly kissed here, too, drawing the gentlest moans from Ron's lip as she sucked. This had awoken something in him; soon enough, he was pulling her face back to his and reaching his hands for the back of her hand, losing them in her wild mane.
It was enough, if just for a little while, to distract them both from the terrors that were sure to face them the next day and every day after until everything was finally over. Though, as she let her mind wander between the clashing of their tongues, Hermione wondered if Ron even believed in that freedom anymore.
But she wasn't ready to think about that just yet. So, instead of stopping, Hermione mustered more courage and followed her desires, throwing a leg around Ron's torso and climbing onto his lap. He suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands, from tugging her curls to sitting on her back, her legs, and then her head again. What felt like confidence for Hermione felt like uncertainty for Ron, who had never experienced such wanting.
He couldn't help but fall on his back, pulling Hermione down with him until she was straddling him on his four-poster bed. Thoughts of going further appeared in Hermione's head once again. It might be nice, she thought, unconsciously travelling south with her lips. But as it became clear that she would not be stopping at his neck, Ron's entire body froze with the strength of Petrificus Totalus.
"Ron?" She asked before kissing upwards again, trying her luck by planting another kiss on his lips. He kissed her back without any hint of affection.
"Should we… Should we talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about, Hermione. We should probably get some sleep."
And with that, Hermione knew she would be travelling back to her dorm with a mixture of aching desire and utter confusion. Boys…
Hermione doesn't sleep that night. She is certain that she isn't the only one, as indicated by the soft sniffles coming from beds around the room. Ginny could put on her best Harry face, one of bravery, but at the end of the day, she remained in insurmountable grief. They all did, in some way or another. The world had lost a lot more than just one young wizard.
Even if that wizard was Harry.
The breakfast tables tell Hermione what she already knew: Nobody slept that night. The room buzzed with more speculative whispers about the champions, the tasks, and the horrors that had happened in years prior. Stories from Ravenclaw's deep dive into the past of the tournament had circulated. Dozens had died in the fight for glory before its first discontinuation in 1792. One year even saw each champion perish in an unfair task that had included a quintaped that they were supposed to outwit. The quintaped had escaped, leaving an audience in both terror and fear. Still, the tournaments continue for a few dozen years afterward. No matter what happened, Hermione felt that the three tasks in the 1994 tournament would seem tame compared to what Voldemort may have up his cloak.
Despite the fear behind them, the lively discussions couldn't help but remind her of what had happened last time. Even with a bloody past, students were desperate to prove their courage and compete in the tournament. The disappointment at the age restriction had thrown plenty in a fit. By crossing the age line, Fred and George even tried to outsmart the goblet of fire (and Dumbledore). And while it allowed them to see each other in old age, it would never have gotten them admitted to the tournament.
Watching champions be chosen was an exciting time in Hogwarts' History. Cedric was so excited to put his name in the goblet and even happier when his name was announced. Despite his house, his bravery would put many Gryffindors to shame. And then there was Fleur, graceful but terrifying. Hermione watched her confidence discourage many Hogwarts boys from putting in their names. It was a power that Hermione had envied at the time. And then there was Krum… Handsome, strong, and competent Krum. But then, of course, there was Harry. It all felt like child's play in hindsight.
Nobody was asking where to submit their name for this tournament. Hermione kept Ron in sight in case he dared, but even he had slept off the foolish idea. She half expected Ginny to think of doing the same. And while Hermione had confidence in her skills, she knew that Ginny would fight with too much fury, and that it could be her downfall. It seemed, though, that whoever they picked would go unwillingly.
Hermione had expected the day to pass slowly, dragging its way to the final announcement. But to her surprise, it flew by. Perhaps it was the constant disassociation she found herself doing or the professors who ensured that classes were filled with activities to distract them all.
Dinnertime arrived, and Hermione entered the Great Hall, knowing that she would not exit it the same. Nobody would. She could only hope that whoever walked out of it as a Tri-Wizard Champion would have faith that the whole school was standing behind them in support.
There was no Goblet of Fire standing at the front of the Great Hall. No thunderous applause as potential champions walked through the door. No fingers crossed underneath the table by wizards hoping that it would be them. Everybody held their breath instead, simply wanting to know what would be next. It seemed as if that were all they thought anymore: What comes next?
Voldemort apparated inside the hall once all the students and professors had taken their seats. Nagini slithered alongside, wrapping herself around the table behind her master.
"I see you are all as eager as I am to meet your new champions," Voldemort began, addressing the silence. "Now, you will have to forgive me, for I do not know the names of all of my pupils."
While the room expected Voldemort to continue, his speech stopped short as the Carrows stepped forward, moving into the crowd and approaching the tables. Amycus starts at the Ravenclaw table, tapping the shoulder of a young witch who could be no older than First Year. The witch turned her head in response, eyes brimming with tears, before quickly collecting herself and following Amycus to the head table.
Hermione looked at Ron, who seemed ready to jump. The poor girl stood no chance against the great beasts that would await.
Meanwhile, Alecto grabbed the ponytail of a girl in Hufflepuff before snatching the wrist of a Slytherin boy on her way back. She threw them towards the Ravenclaw girl, leaving three young students looking towards the crowd. They were too young to know what could lay ahead of them, Hermione thought, thinking back to the bravery that she, Ron, and Harry had displayed in their first year before they knew what dangers had awaited them.
Just when the room had started to settle, believing that Voldemort had chosen First Years for his champions, Amycus returned to the crowd. He headed straight toward the Gryffindor table, seemingly choosing at random as he grabbed the hand of Eddie Ramsey. Eddie, who Hermione had watched be sorted into her house only weeks prior, kept his head high and his tears to himself.
"What a nice young group of witches and wizards… Although, I think that I smell a couple of mudbloods amongst the bunch," Voldemort spoke, circling the four students.
Had they chosen four students to mimic the past tournament that had impacted Voldemort so significantly? Or had they simply wanted a student from every house? Hermione couldn't imagine that the battle would be that great if the students could barely levitate a feather, let alone fight a dragon.
Her curiosities were soon answered as Amycus and Alecto rejoined the tables, grabbing more students to drag to the front.
"Those are all second years," Ginny whispered knowingly.
"Look, now they're taking third years," Neville responded to her moments later as more students were selected.
"Are they… Are they taking four students from every year?"
Suddenly the realisation dawned on them. Voldemort chose one student per house and per year. And as she looked around the table at all of her friends, she could only think of how few of them there were. One of them would have to be chosen. She glanced at the other house tables, catching the eyes of her other friends. Luna had already been looking her way and offered an encouraging smile at Hermione before floating her eyes upward.
The students that were moving toward the front started to get older as the pit in Hermione's stomach grew. Her hand found its way toward Ron's, and the two squeezed with such strength that the blood in Hermione's arm seemed to go missing.
It becomes all too real when it's somebody that Hermione knows approaching the front. At the end of Amycus' tight grasp were the cloaks belonging to Draco Malfoy.
"Why would they pick Malfoy?" Ron whispered, noticing the same.
"Maybe it's rigged," Ginny thought up. "Maybe they want a Death Eater to win."
It made sense. The crowd seemed to be made up of muggle-borns or blood traitors. Having a Death Eater take the prize would work in favour of promoting Pure Blood supremacy. He would be seen as stronger, smarter, and more courageous. But what didn't fit in was the look on his face. She would expect his usual smug smile to be spread across his lips. Instead, the weak, scared little boy that Hermione remembered from the Forbidden Forest back in their first year seemed to make an appearance. His face hardened as he approached Voldemort, who offered an encouraging smile as the Slytherin walked by.
"Knew it," Ginny spat, witnessing the smile.
Her pride soon vanished as the group witnessed Alecto pull Padma away from the Ravenclaw table. They snap their heads towards Parvati beside them as the twin sister resists standing up in protest. It's Neville who turns to her for comfort, offering an arm around her shoulder.
But then it's time for one of them. And while Hermione can practically feel Padma wanting to volunteer to join her sister, it's her cloak that's being tugged. She can feel it before anybody else. But when her grip on Ron's hand tightens, and she turns to see the realisation on her face and the fear painted across all of her friends, all Hermione can seem to think is, Thank Circe that it's not one of them.