The problems for Hermione began as early as Monday.
"Miss Granger," said a stern Professor McGonagall. "As much as I have appreciated your love of reading, the school owls should not be used to transport half a library across the country."
"I know, professor, I'm sorry," Hermione said, frantically trying to organise the pile of books that an exhausted owl dropped in front of her at breakfast. "I asked my dad for a little advice regarding aeroplane design and he apparently translated that to 'send me an encyclopaedia of…'" she inspected one of the book titles. "'Rolls-Royce engines of the 1950s'?"
"Merlin, Hermione," Ron said, picking through the books on the table. "What does 'air compression' have to do with flying and why does your dad have two textbooks on it?"
"Wing cross-sections, aerofoils, control surfaces?" Harry said, his eyes wide. "Hermione, do you know what even half of these things are?"
"Uhh, I guess I'm going to find out," she replied uncertainly.
Professor McGonagall sighed.
"I don't know whether I should be worried or the headmaster should," she said. "Please tell me that you are going to beat him, Miss Granger."
"I thought you didn't approve, professor," Harry said.
"I don't," McGonagall said emphatically. "But seeing the headmaster knocked down a peg or two would be worth it."
Hermione had a slightly flustered look on her face, both from McGonagall's statement and from the volume of books she was going to have to look through. She cleared her head by shaking it.
"I'll… I'll do my best, professor."
She began organising the books in front of her, but before she could add 'The History of the Zero' to her pile, Professor Flitwick hurried over to her.
"Miss Granger!" he said a little breathlessly. "There's a delivery for you."
"Okay, this is a lot of paper," Ron said.
Harry and he, along with Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, had followed Hermione into the Entrance Hall. There were dozens of boxes of various sizes and huge cylindrical rolls of paper stacked on top of each other. It looked like enough paper to reprint the contents of the Hogwarts library.
"It must weigh a ton!" Harry exclaimed.
"Err, one-point-four tonnes metric, it says here," the bored looking delivery wizard said, glancing at his clipboard. "Can I get a signature for this, or what?"
"Bu… bu… but I didn't order this!" Hermione objected.
"Her-my-ninny," said a gruff voice. They all turned to see Krum shuffling over. "I'm sorry. I did not fink that it would arrive so fast."
"You arranged this!?" Hermione said, visibly frazzled.
"You needed paper, yes?"
"To make one paper aeroplane, not to make enough planes to fight off a resurgent Luftwaffe!"
Krum shrugged. "You are making an original, flying artefact. This is the amount of paper that you can buy for the cost of buying materials for building a new broom."
Hermione looked ready to tear out her increasingly bushy hair.
"Look, can someone just sign for this?" said the delivery wizard. "I've got thirty gallons of printer's ink to get somewhere in Devon by lunchtime."
Hermione scribbled her signature on to the man's clipboard, before looking at the paper despairingly.
"Where am I going to put all this? It'd hardly fit in the common room, let alone my dorm room!"
McGonagall frowned. "I suppose…" she said, waving her wand. "That I can allow you to use the empty classroom next to mine. But I am trusting you to be responsible while unsupervised." She gave Hermione a stern look while a key flew into her hand. McGonagall held out the key to Hermione.
"Yes, professor," Hermione said faintly, taking the key. "Can you guys help me move all this?"
It took Harry, Ron, Hermione and Krum working together casting Featherweight and Levitation Charms to move the paper over to the Transfiguration classrooms. Hermione locked the door and pocketed the key when they were done.
"Thanks everyone," she said to her helpers. "I'll worry about where to start later. Do you want to give me a hand after lessons?"
"Can't, sorry," Ron said. "I'm joining Fleur for her tournament practice."
"Blimey, already?" Harry said, his face showing surprise. He missed the strange look that Krum gave him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Victor," Hermione said. "I know you have to practise, too."
Krum frowned for a moment. "I can take it easy for one week," he said. Hermione beamed at him, which made Krum visibly uncomfortable with Ron and Harry still there.
"Ah!" Hermione cried. "I left all those books on the breakfast table!" Then she ran off without another word.
Ron, Harry and Ron shared a bemused look.
"Dumbledore doesn't know what he's in for, does he?" Harry said.
Ron had expected, following her poor performance in the previous task and after a week's rest, that Fleur would return to her preparation with renewed vigour and determination, but he was wrong.
She was much more vigorous and determined than that.
Unwilling to limit herself to working on one aspect of magic to the exclusion of others, Fleur spent every free moment she had free working on new spells, old spells, power, finesse, creativity, subtlety, charms, transfigurations, jinxes, hexes, curses… Ron found himself staring at her neckline more than once to see if she had a Time-turner hidden away, which would explain when she managed to sleep and relax. Fleur caught him looking once, causing Ron to blush and stammer, but she just gave him a cruel grin.
"You naughty boy," she'd said, but she did undo another button on her shirt.
But, despite her playfulness, Fleur was still the picture of seriousness when it came to practising. Ron tried to keep up with her, and he was no slouch when it came to practical magic (even if his academic focus wasn't up to Hermione's standard), but the gulf of skill between the Beauxbatons Triwizard Champion and him, not to mention the age gap, was becoming clearer day by day.
"Take a break," she said kindly, after Ron collapsed into a chair following a particularly demanding set of power building exercises.
Ron watched, trying to catch his breath, as Fleur went back to the fireplace and began shooting more flames from her wand. By the time Ron was breathing normally again, the bricks were beginning to glow red from the heat.
"Do you 'ave any plans for summer?" Fleur asked nonchalantly.
"Summer?" Ron thought for a moment. "Nah, nothing. I think after the World Cup last summer and Egypt the year before that, my mum and dad will want to take it easy."
"Ah," Fleur said, watching her conjured flames burn in the fireplace.
An alarm started to ring in Ron's head. Fleur wanted to talk about something and wanted him to ask her the right thing, he was sure, he just didn't know what that was.
"Uhh, what are you doing for summer, Fleur?" he asked, keeping the sudden nervousness out of his voice.
She sighed dramatically. "'oo knows? Italy, the Caribbean… Gabrielle 'as been wanting to go to Japan, of all places, for months now."
Ron let the silence stretch for a while, racking his brain as for what Fleur was trying to get at. The bricks in the fireplace began to change from a glowing red to a glowing white. Ron could feel the heat on his face from across the room and Fleur was standing right in front of it.
"That sounds nice," he said slowly.
"You know what 'appens after the last task, no?" she asked suddenly.
Ron blinked at the non-sequitur. "The tournament is over?" he said cautiously.
Fleur said nothing for a moment. The flames from her wand transformed from a fiery red into a dangerous blue over the length of a minute.
"I will be going back to France," she said tightly.
Oh.
"Oh," said Ron in realisation. "I see what you're getting at. Do you want to…" he paused, spending a moment to summon up the courage and confidence that he knew Fleur liked. "Do you want to come and visit me during the summer holidays?" He'd never let her near the twins, but Dartmoor wasn't far from the Burrow and it'd probably be a nice date during summer.
Fleur nodded. "And you will come and visit me," she said. It wasn't a question.
But she hadn't stopped pouring magic into the fireplace and the temperature of Fleur's small training room was starting to grow beyond uncomfortable and into unbearable.
"That's… good?" Ron said, raising his voice against the growing roar of flames. "Fleur, look. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what you're getting at."
Fleur dropped her wand to her side, cutting off the jet of fire she was unleashing. Ron went over to the window, letting in a refreshing blast of cold, Scottish air.
Fleur stood in the middle of the room, watching Ron as he walked closer to her. She had an inscrutable expression on her face.
"I won't be coming back to 'Ogwarts after the third task," she said. "It's… it's a long way from 'ere to France."
Now Ron understood. He nodded slowly. "And you're worried about… us?"
Fleur hummed affirmatively.
Ron's mind was now working at full capacity. What exactly did Fleur want to hear from him?
"I mean… I'm willing to give it a go if you are," he said. "And it's not as if Portkeys don't exist."
"Even for me," Fleur said with a look, "zat's a little expensive for a permanent solution."
"I could go Muggle easily enough," Ron said, a little more confidently than he felt. "I think Hermione said something about a Muggle train that goes under the sea, or something like that."
"An underwater train?" Fleur seemed impressed. "We don't pay enough attention to Muggles, I sometimes think."
Fleur transfigured one of the chairs into a sofa and collapsed into it, Ron sat down beside her and she cuddled into him. Ron fought down his instinct to stiffen at the close contact and put his arm around her.
"Oh, maybe you can go to Beauxbatons for the rest of your schooling," Fleur said, a hint of humour entering her voice. "You can speak French, right?"
"Oh, sure," Ron said airily. "I mean, oui. Or maybe you can stay in Britain permanently. You like British food and weather, right?"
"Urgh, don't even joke about it," Fleur said, but she squeezed more tightly against him.
They stayed like that for a while. Ron had to use his wand to close the window once the excess heat had left the room, unwilling to disturb Fleur by standing up. The sunlight began to fade away.
"I'd 'ate it if I left Scotland without either of the things I want," Fleur said softly into Ron's side. He suddenly realised how deep and relaxed her breathing had come. He very carefully didn't move for the few minutes it took for Fleur to properly fall asleep against him. He decided that he was going to force her to take it easy the next day, even if she didn't want to. She may have been Fleur Delacour, but he was the son of Molly Weasley and he knew how to get his way sometimes, too.
Very gently, he lowered her head onto the sofa and transfigured her cloak into a warm, fluffy blanket to drape over her. He set a, much more reasonably sized, fire in the fireplace, closed the curtains and sneaked out of her room.
Then he sneaked back in and cast an Enduring Charm on the sofa Fleur had transfigured into being. He didn't want her to fall to the floor in the middle of the night, did he?
He heard a clock chime in the distance as he rushed up to the castle. He hoped he wasn't late.
"Psst."
Ron turned towards the voice, slipping into the shadows of the castle.
"I thought you weren't coming," the voice said.
"She fell asleep on me," Ron said. "And it took me a moment to extract myself."
"Aww!"
"Shh! We don't want anyone to notice us, do we? You're sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," Lavender said, stepping forward into the pale moonlight and licking her lips nervously. "I've just… never actually done anything like this before."
"You'll be fine," Ron said. "You'll just get a little… wet."
"I wasn't worried about that… thanks for doing this with me," Lavender said. "I've always wanted to be more… adventurous."
Ron smiled at her, then started pulling off his robes.
Ron managed to get Fleur to take the next day at an easier pace, but if anything, the day after that she was pushing herself even more. When the day of Hermione's contest against Dumbledore came around, Ron was glad for the excuse to force Fleur to relax again.
Apparently, Hermione had been as busy as Fleur for the whole week, even to the extent of putting off her homework. She shocked everyone by falling asleep during Transfiguration, but McGonagall had been even more shocking when she didn't wake Hermione and instead merely turned her textbook into a pillow and set a Silencing Charm around her.
When the appointed hour arrived, it seemed as if the entire population of Hogwarts, as well as the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations, had turned out to watch. Then again, Hogwarts wasn't overflowing with things to see or do on a Saturday morning, when there wasn't a Hogsmeade visit.
The sun was shining, the clouds were present, but sporadic and there was barely a whisper of wind. Perfect flying conditions, in Ron's opinion.
The Gryffindors cheered when Hermione emerged from the castle, Krum a step behind her, the various parts of her aeroplane floating, disassembled, behind them. At her request, a long, flat section of grass had been designated as the runway and marked off. Ron, Fleur, Harry and Ginny were waiting for her at one end.
"Morning guys," she said, lowering the aeroplane parts to the ground. They all replied to her warmly as she got to work putting the various parts together. Surprisingly quickly, an authentic looking, albeit still made of paper, modern Muggle aircraft began to appear before them.
A much larger round of applause announced the arrival of the headmaster a few minutes later. Somewhere, he had found, or conjured up, an old-fashioned set of aviator goggles. He was wearing them as he waved cheerily to the crowds of students. Ron thought he could see McGonagall grinding her teeth as she walked beside him.
Dumbledore stopped a dozen paces to Hermione's left and withdrew a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Laying it down on the grass, Dumbledore stepped back and flicked his wand. The small square of paper began to unfold and the more Ron watched it, the more his eyes hurt. Somehow, every time it unfolded, there was even more paper underneath and then even more underneath the next fold, too. After a dizzying thirty seconds, Dumbledore had his faithful Hurricane before him on the grass.
While this was happening, Hermione was sprawled across the wing of her aeroplane, tightening a paper bolt with a comically large paper wrench. She jumped down and admired her own handiwork.
"Not bad, eh?" she asked.
It certainly looked more… Well, Ron didn't know anything about Muggle flying machines, but whatever quality Hermione's machine had, it had more of it than Dumbledore's did.
"It's so… cool!" Fleur said emphatically, surprising everyone present.
"Thanks," Hermione said in confusion.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, walking over and lifting his goggles up.
"Good morning, professor," she replied.
"And are you looking forward to flying on such a wonderful day?"
"Oh no, sir," Hermione said quickly. "I'm not flying today."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
"Then, if I may ask…?"
"I said I'd build the thing, but I can barely fly a broomstick, let alone an experimental aircraft. No, I asked Victor to fly it."
Dumbledore turned to look at Krum. In contrast to Hermione's bright and cheerful disposition, Krum's face was as serious and impassive as a mountain face.
"Uhh, well… good luck to the both of you," Dumbledore said, before returning to his own plane, walking around it and tapping it with his wand every so often. He suddenly did not seem so confident.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall said, taking over the headmaster's place. "I've asked Professor Flitwick to give your creation a once over and declare it safe before we begin. Would you mind talking him through the design?"
Hermione began speaking rapidly with the Charm Professor, who nodded along, his expression impressed and full of curiosity. McGonagall walked over to Harry.
"And you're still willing to act as our safety flyer, Mister Potter?" she asked.
Harry nodded, showing that he had brought his Firebolt down to the grounds with him. Katie Bell had lent him her broom and Ginny helped strap it to Harry's side. In the event that something went wrong, hopefully Harry could swoop in and rescue anyone in trouble. Cushioning Charms were a last resort. Madam Hooch drilled it into everyone at Hogwarts' head: Cushioning Charms are not a perfect solution to falling off your broom and if you get the timing wrong, you'll regret it for the rest of your very short life.
Flitwick apparently satisfied, Hermione began setting up extra pieces of equipment on a hastily conjured table: her brass telescope, a wizarding wireless set with an extra antenna sticking out of it, a tiny windsock and a long sheet of parchment with dozens of numbers constantly rewriting themselves.
Hermione tapped all of her instruments, muttering spells under her breath. She handed a sturdy looking piece of headgear to Krum, who jammed it on to his head.
"Testing, testing, one, two, three, can you hear me? Over," Hermione said into the wireless.
"I hear you," Krum said gruffly.
Hermione looked over everything she had assembled, picking up a clipboard and running her finger down it, muttering to herself.
"Ready when you are, Miss Granger and Mister Krum!" Dumbledore called over, while climbing into his cockpit.
Hermione's fingers were gripping her clipboard tightly, until Krum placed his hands over hers.
"Her-my-ninny," he said softly.
She took a deep breath, then nodded at him. "You're right," she said. "Let's do this."
She gave Krum a kiss on the cheek for luck, which Krum took… well, as seriously and impassively as a mountain face, before climbing into his own cockpit.
"Energise main charms network," Hermione said into the wireless.
"Check." Krum's tinny voice came back through.
"Check control surfaces."
Various parts of the aeroplane flapped back and forth.
"Check," Krum confirmed.
"Begin engine start-up sequence."
The engines under each wing began to spin, emitting a dull whine, gradually growing in pitch and volume.
"Put down fifteen degrees of flap."
The back part of the wings flipped upwards.
"Ready," Krum said through the wireless.
Hermione looked up from her equipment. She raised her hand to signal to Professor McGonagall, standing in front and to the side of the two planes. McGonagall, visibly reluctantly, raised her wand and sent off a green spark.
The crowd cheered and Dumbledore's propellor began spinning in earnest, his Hurricane slowly building up speed as it rolled forward. Harry took to the air on his Firebolt, giving the paper aeroplanes plenty of room.
"Let him take the lead," Hermione said. "I don't want his plane to be knocked around by your exhaust."
Dumbledore was a quarter-mile down the runway when his wheels picked up off the ground. The cheering reached a peak and then was replaced by confusion. Krum was still waiting at the end of the runway. Jeers and boos were heard from those who were happy to see Hermione fail, but she paid them no mind.
"Now?" Krum asked.
"Punch it."
The two engines, which had been idling at a dull drone, exploded into an angry roar, shocking the impatient crowd with the sudden noise. There were even some screams.
Krum's plane hurtled down the runway and there were excited and surprised cries when it took to the air. Climbing quickly, it began turning and spinning through the sky.
"Good," Hermione said. "Just take a minute to get used to it. It'll probably be different from practice."
Krum continued to fly the plane in increasingly aerobatic manoeuvres, as the crowd oohed and ahhed appreciatively and Dumbledore flew in lazy circles high in the sky.
"Hang on," Ron said, his face twisted in confusion. "You said 'practice'. When did you get a chance to practise? Surely people would have heard it if you had been flying around."
"Hmm," Hermione agreed, not looking up from the table. "I just stuck the joystick on Krum's training broomstick. He fiddled with charms on it until it had the same power and aerodynamic profile as the plane. It might have ended up being a little different, but Victor was confident that it was close enough."
In the sky above them, Krum levelled out at the same altitude as Dumbledore.
"Okay," he said through the wireless. "I'm ready."
At another wave from Hermione, McGonagall sent off another green spark from her wand and the contest was on.
Straight away, Dumbledore turned towards Krum and fired at him, his paper guns hardly louder than the pitter-patter of rain from so far away, but Krum had already rolled out of the way.
What followed was an intense and, to Ron's eyes, strangely beautiful dance, as each participant tried to evade and then get behind the other. To the audience, it was quickly becoming clear that Hermione's claims about modern aircraft the previous week had not been overstated and Dumbledore was quickly reduced to trying to avoid Krum, finding himself unable to even try manoeuvring behind him.
"Careful, Victor!" Hermione almost screeched. "You almost pulled three gees in that last turn!"
"The plane will be fine," came Krum's reply, his voice full of concentration.
"It's not the plane I'm worried about," Hermione shot back.
But Krum didn't respond to that. He had finally got into the position he wanted to be in.
"Firing missile one," he said. From under the wing, a long tube, which Ron had assumed to be important to flying somehow, suddenly detached from the wing and shot towards the headmaster at incredible speeds. Ron didn't know what it was supposed to do, but at the very last moment, Dumbledore dived down and the missile missed, exploding into a cloud of confetti.
Dumbledore had evaded the missile, but his emergency evasion had put him into an even worse position and within moments, Krum was behind him again.
"Missile number two?" he asked.
"Hermione grimaced. "I'm still not sure…"
"What's wrong with missile two?" Ron asked.
"Number one was just a dumb fired explosive, but number two has a bunch of Tracking Charms and flight spells… but I just threw it together last minute this morning. It hasn't been tested at all."
"I think," Professor Flitwick said from beside her, "that our headmaster can handle anything that might go wrong."
Hermione nodded slowly at him, before turning to the wireless again.
"Alright, Victor. Go with number two."
"Okay."
A moment later, from the other wing, the second missile detached and shot towards Dumbledore. He tried the same dive and dodge that had saved him from the first missile, but this time, the missile turned as well. Dumbledore tried a few more rolls and spins, but to no avail. Confetti engulfed his plane as the missile made contact and the audience cheered.
"Great shot, Victor," Hermione said.
"Well done, Hermione!" Ron cheered.
"Professor Dumbledore!" a voice screamed from the crowd.
Ron's eyes shot up. It seemed that Hermione's experimental missile had an unintended side effect, because the wings and tail of Dumbledore's Hurricane were currently ablaze.
In a flash, Harry was flying next to it and Dumbledore was climbing out of the cockpit. Harry held out the extra broomstick and, with impressive grace, Dumbledore mounted the broomstick while leaping from the wing. He quickly brought his descent under control and everyone watched as his Hurricane was totally engulfed in flames and burned into smoke.
"Right," said McGonagall, her eyes glinting as she watched the last of the smoke being blown away by the wind, "can you ask Mister Krum to land, Miss Granger? Then we can put this whole episode behind us."
Hermione did just that, but a minute later, there was a problem.
"What does that mean, the landing gear is stuck?" McGonagall asked.
"The wheels used for landing," Hermione explained. "They're meant to extend down, but the left rear wheel is stuck."
"Have you tried an Extending Charm, Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick asked.
Hermione relayed the idea to Krum, but the gear still wouldn't come down.
"Congratulations, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, landing lightly among them. McGonagall quickly caught him up on the ongoing crisis.
Harry landed next to them as well, much more forcefully than Dumbledore had.
"Broomstick please, sir," he said quickly.
"Of course," Dumbledore replied, holding out the spare broomstick.
Harry made to take off immediately, but Hermione called out.
"Wait! Try a finite and then a Releasing Charm on the stuck wheel," she told him.
Harry nodded then rocketed back into the air.
"Harry's coming underneath you, try to fly straight," Hermione said to Krum.
They could just make out what Harry was doing, so high above them. He was waving his wand for half a minute, then he physically yanked at the wheel, but it still wasn't coming loose.
Harry gave up and flew to the top of the plane, holding out the broomstick for Krum to take.
"Tell Potter to get some distance," Krum said through the wireless. "I can land it with one wheel."
Hermione bit at her lip. The audience close enough to hear muttered among themselves.
"Try not to get Victor Krum killed, Granger," one of the spectators said.
Hermione turned around to respond angrily to whoever had spoken, but then she saw that it was the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Davies.
Hermione stared at him for a long moment, her mouth working, but no sound coming out. Eventually, she came to a decision.
"Roger, Roger. What's your vector, Victor?" she said.
"I'm lining up for my landing now," Krum said.
Harry waved off as Krum neared the ground. The plane wobbled as the single rear wheel made contact with the ground, then the nose wheel touched down. The crowd, who had been watching with bated breath, exploded into applause and cheers when the plane slowed to a stop.
Hermione released her deathgrip on the table and almost collapsed from relief when Krum emerged from the cockpit. She rushed over and embraced him, inciting a few wolf whistles from the crowd.
"It's the jet engine, see," Hermione was saying, a few minutes later. A small crowd of teachers and students surrounded her, Dumbledore himself listening intently. "Compared to a propeller, they just have so much thrust."
"Did you invent a magical, paper, jet engine in a week?" somebody asked.
"Just copied the Muggle design really," Hermione replied self consciously.
"Even so," Flitwick said. "It's very impressive. Would you mind terribly if I took one of the engines to examine it, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded her acquiescence.
"Very good," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands. "But I think that has been enough distraction for the day. I'm sure we all have other demands on our time."
The mass of people slowly began to disperse and Hermione received many more congratulations from those leaving.
Ron offered his arm to Fleur as they walked back to the Beauxbatons carriage.
"It's incredible what you get up to in this school," Fleur said, shaking her beautiful head.
"You wouldn't see this at Beauxbatons?" Ron asked, watching her hair wave back and forth.
"No," Fleur said, sounding almost offended. "Beauxbatons is a school of magic, not…" she struggled to find a word for a moment. "Not madness."
Ron laughed. "Well, you're right about Hogwarts, at least," he said. "Still…" he looked back up at the castle.
"'Ow many times 'ave you almost died at this school?" Fleur broke him out of his reverie.
"Three or four," Ron replied straight away. "But there's still three and a half years to go. I'm hoping to have more near-death brushes than Hermione by the time we graduate. I'd say more than Harry, but I'd be a fool if I thought that were possible."
"Don't… joke about zat," Fleur said, her voice surprisingly earnest.
"I'm sorry," Ron said quickly. "It was just a joke."
"I don't care," Fleur sniffed. "You're not allowed to die. I forbid it."
She clutched his arm tightly as they kept walking.
Ron and Harry looked up from their game of chess when Hermione stumbled through the portrait hole, later that evening. Ron had given Harry knight-odds, but by the mid-game, Ron had fought back to a relatively equal position.
"You alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, eyeing her concernedly. "What did Flitwick want?"
She collapsed into the nearest free chair, her gaze unfocussed.
"He, uhh…" she said.
"Yes?" prompted Ron.
"He, uhh, wanted to talk about my jet engine," she said, her voice weak.
"And? Hermione, is everything alright?"
"Yes… no… I…" she shook her head and leaned in close. "He gave me an OWL."
"What?!" both of the boys said.
"Keep your voices down!" Hermione hissed. "He wanted me to keep it quiet."
"But… how? Why?" Harry whispered.
"Apparently, it used to be the case that Hogwarts accepted novel pieces of spell creation instead of tests for some OWLs and NEWTs. Unfortunately, lots of students start ignoring their studies, convinced that they could produce something impressive enough in their own time. Enough students failed that the school stopped offering the option years and years ago, but the Department of Magical Education technically still accepts them."
"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said.
"But don't spread it around," she said. "Flitwick doesn't want anyone to slack off on their exam preparation."
"Did he give you a grade?" Harry asked.
"Well, technically the Ministry examiner will give it a grade when Flitwick sends them the engine in June and I'll have to write up a report about how I developed the charms and how it works, too, but Flitwick said…" she took a deep breath. "Flitwick said that if it wasn't given an 'O', then he'd go to London himself and duel the examiner into submission."
The two boys grinned at her.
"That's brilliant, Hermione," Harry said. "Well done."
"I didn't know that fourth years could even have OWLs," Ron said. "At least you won't have to do the exam next year."
Hermione didn't look as delighted by this news as Ron would have, but it was Hermione after all.
The evening was drawing to a close and Hermione and Harry both went up to bed, after Ron caught Harry with an Anastasia's Mate, of course, but Ron stayed in the Common Room, citing homework he had to do.
He caught Lavender's eye when she slipped out of the portrait hole and, a few minutes later, slipped out after her.
