Chapter 21 - The Winter Dueling Tournament
Hermione shivered.
A thin layer of snow coated the bottom of the pitch, and Hermione fought off the urge to look up at the emerald and green section of the rafters like a complete dunderhead. Nothing good ever came from putting undo pressure on herself. She just needed to win. She just needed to be the very best. Like always. That's all.
"Expelliarmus," Hermione said, and promptly snatched Anthony Goldstein's wand from its parabolic flight. The crowd in the seats above awarded her with a polite round of applause. She didn't look up in the stands. She didn't let out a breath. Her shoulders didn't loosen. Her jaw didn't unclench. She'd taken a step in the right direction, but the tournament was only just beginning.
"Winner Hermi-" Professor Quirrell yawned, sounding much like an Oxford researcher forced to teach an introductory physics class. "Apologies. Winner Hermione Granger. You may go over there, on the side of the pitch without rafters, to the winner's circle. Goldstein, you're to the loser's circle."
Hermione sat beside her best friend Ginny. The Dueling Ring had been fashioned on top of the quidditch pitch, and quite a few alumni had come to the festivities early to watch the dueling tournament.
According to Ginny, there would be several times more witches and wizards filling their little stadium when tomorrow's Gryffindor-Slytherin match was played, but Hermione was quite pleased with the turnout. There were far more people than when she'd won her second form spelling bee, or her third form pian - why had she - how long had it been since she'd last thought on that particular memory? She ought not remind herself of such misery! Music could go burn in a fire! It was even more useless than broomstickery!
"Vincent Crabbe and Ronald Weasley," called Professor Quirrell, his eyes drooping. "You're up."
"I'll make you pay," said Crabbe gruffly, as he waddled in front of Annoying Ron.
"Pay for what?" Asked Stupid Ron, who was also quite immature and stubborn and mean and had she mentioned that he was also very horrid? Well he was, and also he was a wanker!
"For what?" Crabbe spluttered. "For making her cry of course!"
Hermione cooed delightedly, quite happy with the distraction. How very sweet! She hadn't thought Vincent capable of such emotions, it seemed he'd somehow managed to find himself a girlfriend. Indeed, she'd half thought one of his parents to be an ogre. Was his crush perhaps Millicent? It couldn't possibly be-
"Hermione," said Ginny politely. "You ought to put on more of a show, don't you think?"
"Oh do shut up," said Hermione crossly. "I did win, didn't I?"
"Yes," said Ginny patiently. "But do you think any of the people in the stands are here to see a bunch of ickle firsties fight? Only about half of us can even cast a spell in a classroom, let alone a stadium full of parents and ministry members. I mean Ron's not half bad and look at him, making a fool of himself in front of everybody."
Indeed, Ronald and Vincent had both dropped their wands and gotten into a fistfight like a couple of hooligans.
"Is he going to be alright?" Hermione asked. Not that she was concerned of course- she now saw Ron for the beastly brute he was. She cared not at all for his brooding exterior, or his roguish behavior- unyielding to anything but his own code, how very… very… Or the warmth he'd only show to those select few who managed to earn his trust. She err…
And his grades were absolutely atrocious! So there! Horrid, absolutely horrid!
"He'll be fine," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, fighting is the one and only thing he's decent at. Even Fred and George leave him alone when he starts swinging."
Ginny looked to be quite correct. Ron hammered Vincent with some rather barbaric hooks, until Vincent tackled him to the ground and attempted to pin him. But in a tangle of arms and legs, it was Ron who managed the superior position, his arm wrapped securely around Vincent's neck. But Vincent refused to yield.
Professor Quirrell knocked Ron aside with a flick of his wand. "I believe we have a winner," said Professor Quirrell, yawning. "It would be more fitting for your next fight to be against Tyson, but I suppose a victory is a victory, no matter how barbaric. Go over there, to the victor's circle."
Ron puffed up, and swaggered to Hermione, sitting beside her. He kept glancing at her hopefully.
For some reason, Vincent made his way to her, head bowed, eyes watering. "I'm sor-"
"Brawling is utterly barbaric," Hermione told Ginny loudly. That managed to deflate Ron's head a bit, although she supposed it had been rather rude to interrupt Sweet Vincent. "Now, what was it you wanted to… Err…"
Well, whatever he'd wanted to tell her couldn't have been that important, because Vincent was already slinking his way to the Slytherin Loser Lot.
"You really are an arse Hermione," said Draco quite randomly, following after his stooge. Hermione sniffed. Whatever was his problem? Words could be quite hurtful, he really ought to be more considerate.
"As I was saying," said Ginny. "Everyone watching is here to see you. You've got to give them a show. Afterall," said Ginny pompously, flashing a blinding smile. "Fame is a slog."
"Oh do shut up," said Hermione, laughing. Indeed, many of those observing were surely here to see her perform… Two at least… Stupid! Don't think about that, don't think about that, don't think about that.
For all Ginny's friendly gibes, Hermione knew that so long as she didn't try and play Canon in D after rehearsing Chopin she'd be fine. Things were different now, she was a witch! Afterall, at Hogwarts she merely had to outshine around forty or so, not the hundreds of thousands of which she was accustomed.
Harry defeated Theodore Nott with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it expelliarmus.
"That was a good bit of wandwork," Hermione told Harry, quite honestly. "You've been working hard haven't you? Very impressive."
Harry grinned, his cheeks reddening ever-so-slightly. "It was nothing. Sirius has been helping me is all."
Hermione heard Ron sniff behind her, and smiled superiorly.
"Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom," said Professor Quirrell. Normally, Hermione would have rooted for Heroic Draco over Evil Neville, but after Malfoy's unkind words to her she'd quite like to see them both lose.
Malfoy raised his wand with a smirk, glancing up at a certain someone in the emerald and green stands. What a child! You ought never ever search the crowd!
"Septumsorpia," said Malfoy. But nothing happened. Fool.
Neville raised his wand, eyes flickering up to the scarlet and yellow stands, a determined expression on his face. "Ex-expelliarmus…" Nothing happened.
"Ohoho!" Hermione laughed. What a most gratifying duel! Perhaps if they waited a few days, one of the participants might manage to cast a spell. Might. Well, that was what happened when the rabble were allowed to participate.
Malfoy managed to sneer. "Nice spellwork there Longbottom. I can see you've been taking lessons from your parents."
"Don't you talk about my parents!" Neville spat, suddenly livid. "Ex-pell-armus!"
…Well… Hermione supposed that was what happened when Neville got serious. His charm had backfired, flinging him out of the dueling ring. He slammed into the snow, and shivered with sorrow at his own patheticness.
"Oh how wonderful!" Hermione tittered delightedly.
"Winner- Draco Malfoy," said Professor Quirrell, sounding much like he'd prefer to be having a tooth pulled.
Malfoy threw Neville's wand back at him, wearing a cruel smirk. "You know I've done some thinking, and I think your lot might be right. Perhaps blood doesn't mean much. Afterall, Frank and Alice were extraordinary aurors, and you're… well… perhaps…"
Malfoy lit up like he'd had an epiphany. "Longbottom, are you quite sure your mother was faithful?"
Neville lunged at Malfoy, but froze in midair along with several flakes of snow. Professor Quirrell yawned, and levitated Neville to the loser's circle. "Let's speed this along. Onto the next round. Ginerva Weasley, Michael Corner, come forward."
"Good luck," Ginny chirped to Michael, wearing a cheerful smile. "Let's have a goo-"
"Expelliarmus," Michael replied properly.
"Protego," Ginny said, slashing her wand upwards. The disarming charm reflected off her shimmering shield, and flew into the stands. "Locomotor Wibbly!"
Michael's legs collapsed.
"Tittlando," Ginny drawled.
Michael erupted into a fit of laughter.
Professor Quirrell started. "Wi-"
"Wingardium Leviosa," Ginny shouted. "Oops." She'd flung Poor Michael higher than the highest rafter. "Immobulus," Ginny cried, catching Michael just before he splattered on the ground.
Wait…
…That wasn't First Year magic…
…Just when…
…But…
The stadium erupted. Ginny shot Hermione a smirk as she found her way to the winner's circle, and Hermione couldn't help but shoot a worried look up at the emerald and silver filled rafters. But only briefly! Luckily she didn't pay for her childish mistake, the onlookers were much too far away to makeout.
Still Hermione couldn't deny that her stomach ached as she looked on at her next opponent Dean Thomas. She felt like hurling. And if she hurled, why, her teeth would be covered in stomach acid and she'd have no choice but to remove herself from competition, so she might save her precious enamel. Yes, it would be prudent to indulge in-
What was she even thinking? So Ginny was a little more advanced than she'd expected, so what? Her competition was still just Ginny, and she was still Hermione Granger. Her competitors were literal children. She had nothing to worry about.
"Wingardium Leviosa," said Hermione, levitating Dean's wand away from him. See? Easy.
Dean leapt up at it, his finger's grazing its resin base but not quite managing to grasp it. Hermione let out a breath, and managed a smirk.
She lowered Dean's wand, just a smidge. Ah-ah-ah. She bobbed it up, just out of reach as he leapt up for it again. And again. Until Dean blushed, and raised his hand up in forfeit.
Hermione graciously offered him a handshake, as was proper. Dean snarled, looking like he'd smelled something foul, but still shook.
"It is because I'm a muggleborn?" Asked Dean cooley. "You trying to score some points with your housemates… Pettigrew?"
Pettigrew? Who was Petti… Oh yeah…
"N-no, I just wanted…" Hermione stopped, and tried again. "I err…" She blushed. She had the sudden urge to say she was sorry. She really ought to, she'd behaved quite atrociously. But for some reason, the words just wouldn't form, and she had the distinct impression that she'd just made an arse of herself in front of…
Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not that big a deal. I imagine it must be hard for you, being in Slytherin and all. Let's just drop it."
In her next bout, Hermione disarmed Susan Abbot straight away. Let Ginny have her fun showboating.
Harry defeated Malfoy with a quick expelliarmus, leaving a final four of her, Ron, Harry, and Ginny.
"Ginerva Weasley, Ronald Weasley," announced Professor Quirrell, causing the two of them to come trudging out. Neither looked too pleased, and there was no pre-duel banter.
"...Two, one, zero," said Professor Quirrell, as the two Weasleys spun to face each other.
Ron dropped his wand and charged Ginny.
"Petrificus Totalus," Ginny said, freezing Ron midstep. Ron crashed into the snow, and that was that.
Ginny Weasley would be Hermione's opponent in the finals, and she had displayed a frightening level of competence with regards to dueling. For the first time, Hermione would be at a disadvantage with regards to the spells at her disposal. Of course, she'd managed to take out Peter Pettigrew, so while Ginny would be a challenge, Hermione was confident she could pull off a victory as long as she put some thought on her tactics. Of course, it may not even come to that.
"Will I be able to duel Ginevra?" Hermione asked Professor Quirrell. "If not, I do understand. Afterall, in the rules set earlier you mentioned there would be no dueling between students of the same house, and it is ever-so-important that we follow the rules."
"It's fine," said Professor Snape. "As the Head of House I'll allow it."
Harry waited patiently. Oh yes, she still needed to beat Harry, she'd quite forgotten. She did so hope that she hadn't appeared rude.
"Whatever happens, let's stay friends," Hermione said politely.
Harry smiled. "I'd like that Hermione."
"I will count down from ten," Professor Quirrell recounted. "On zero the duel begins. Ten, nine, eight…"
Hermione began taking her steps, as was proper in a duel. The obstacle she'd need to overcome was Ginny's Shield Charm. She didn't know the charm herself, which put her at quite the disadvantage. Still, it was hardly an insurmountable challenge. Afterall, the troll had managed to collapse Ginny's shields with a few solid whacks of its club. Yes! That's it! She just needed to use Wingardium Leviosa, and drop some rather large debris on Ginny.
"...Six, five…"
Now onto Harry. What charm ought she use on Harry? She quite liked the boy, and it would hardly do to humiliate him. Petrificus Totalus. Yes, that would do quite nicely.
"...One, zero!"
"Petrifi-"
"Expelliarmus!"
And Hermione's wand was ripped from her grasp, and she was thrown backwards, and the crowd was on their feet, and everyone was cheering already.
Huh?
"Ahh, this is quite surprising," said Professor Quirrell, smiling broadly, like he'd just won a prize off a scratch ticket. "The winner is The Boy Who Lived! Harry Potter!"
The pitch erupted.
What?
But she'd… It was already over? Huh?
But she couldn't have lost. Not now of all times. She actually cared, she actually needed to win. This wasn't a silly flying lesson! This wasn't a game! This wasn't a joke! She had to win! She was… She was a Granger, a prodigy, a winner- not some bloody loser! This couldn't be happening! This could not be happening!
"It's alright Hermione." Someone- Ronald- was patting her shoulder. "You're gonna be fine. You're okay."
No. It wouldn't. She wasn't allowed to… to…
This wasn't flying! This wasn't… But she was Hermione Granger! She'd taken down a death eater, she'd taken down Rita Skeeter, what had Harry bloody Potter ever done?...
…Well, aside from the trifling matter of defeating the most powerful dark lord of all time?
Hermione could only watch as the two finalists, Ginny and Harry, stared each other down at the center of the pitch.
"Everyone came to see you and Hermione," Ginny chirped happily, her attention entirely on Harry. Hundreds of witches and wizards were making their way to the exits, retiring to Hogsmeade early. "The Boy Who Lived against The Next Merlin. And you beat her. How can little old me possibly compete with the big good Harry Potter? Well I promise to try my very, very best."
Hermione huffed. If even she had los- Then Ginny was more finished than tooth decay after a Flourine treatment!
Harry creased his eyebrows. "I'm not sure what you're on about Ginny, you're plenty talented. I'm the one who doesn't belong."
"Yeah, I know," Ginny said, smirking. "Now that Hermione's choked, they might as well crown me champion now. This whole weekend is gonna be a coming out party for me. I'm gonna kick your arse in the ring today, and in the pitch tomorrow. I'll give you one shot at me, but that's it. Do try to make it count."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I reckon I will."
And Professor Quirrell started his ten count.
"Expelliarmus," Harry shouted, spinning around. It had seemed quite a bit faster when she'd been in the ring with him, surely Ginny would fall as she-
But Ginny calmly deflected the red blast with a slash of her wand. "Serpensortia!"
An anaconda lunged out of her wand, and slithered towards Harry. The stadium cheered. Of course, it was quite barbaric, everyone in attendance ought to have understood that. Showboating was immature, a simple expelliarmus would surely have sufficed, but Ginny had the nauseating compulsion to try and impress. How very irritating! How very immature! And the horrid snake was surely out of control. Indeed, it lunged at Harry.
Harry hissed at it, stopping the snake in its tracks. The snake hissed back. Harry his-
"Silencio!" Ginny said sharply. "Diffindo!" Ginny slashed her wand, bisecting the snake in two. "Flipendo!" The snake flew up into the stands. "Petrificus Totalus!" Harry was immobilized.
"And there you have it," said Professor Quirrell laughing, staring at Harry's scar with a delighted smirk. "The winner of the First Year Dueling Tournament is Ginevra Weasley!"
Hermione could hear the wind rustling against the trees. If she strained, she might even hear the sound of snowflakes landing gently on the ground.
Perhaps she ought to have felt bad for Ginny, not getting any applause, but Hermione knew the truth! Dear Ginevra had been getting private lessons from The Dark Lord. That was cheating! If Ginny didn't have the diary, Hermione would have been the one who'd won the tournament.
…Well…
…Maybe…
…Perhaps that wasn't logically valid…
…Because… She'd los…Lost to Harry… Harry.
Harry?
How could The Perfect Hermione Granger have l-lost to The Perfectly Ordinary Harry Potter?
And it had been a fair match. Yes Harry had been tutored by Sirius Black, but she'd been tutored by Gilderoy Lockhart. It had all been fair, she'd had time to prepare, she'd put her all into beating him, and she'd just…
Lost.
She'd lost.
Unacceptable.
Nothing would be the same.
"Now," said Professor Quirrell, sounding quite pleased. "For third place. Hermione Granger. Ronald Weasley. Come forward."
And Hermione found herself back out there. In front of everyone. Staring down Ron Weasley. But she was in no mood to fight. She could remember the feel of her wand, its wood grains, slipping from her grip. Why hadn't she held it tighter? Why had she been so slow? Why hadn't she bothered to learn the Shield Charm as Ginny had? And was it just her imagination, or was everyone laughing at her?
Ordinary! Ordinary! Ordinary!
Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!
Liar! Liar! Liar!
Mudblood! Mudblood! Mudblood!
If she wasn't special, then she was just a muggleborn in Slytherin, and all her careful fabrications would come undone, and Hogwarts would become so intolerable she'd have to slink back home, and then she'd fail out of Eton just like she'd failed out of Hogwarts, because failures always failed, and then her parents would break up, and then she'd be stuck with some boring job, and then she'd be homeless and alone and cold and-
Ron crashed into her, pulling at her wand.
Hermione yelped, pulled his hair, and started to cry. Ron ignored all that, and snatched her wand from her.
"Winner," said Professor Quirrell. "Ronald Weasley."
XOXOXOX
Ha! He'd done it, he'd really done it! He'd beaten her! And after all her boasting, turned out that Hermione was the one who should've forfeited! He'd kicked her arse!
And Little Miss Perfect wouldn't even deign to so much as shake his hand. Hermione scurried from the pitch quickly. Ron's smile faded. So she'd been distracted?
Yeah. Obviously. Losers like him didn't beat elites like Hermione, that was just for kid stories. No, what must've happened is that there was something more important she had to do, or err… somewhere she had to be. Ron tailed her, because if Hermione Granger thought something else was more important than the dueling tournament she was probably right. Did it have to do with The Heir? Skeeter? Lockhart?
Hermione must've found what she was looking for behind some thistles under the stands. She glanced around, to make sure no one was watching. Ron hid behind a big wooden support thingy.
He felt like a fool for getting so excited about winning. She'd thrown the fight, it was bloody obvious in retrospect. That big blow up she'd had earlier- that had all been a lie or… Or bloody something. She didn't care about dueling, she just had something more important to do. Or maybe she felt sorry for him. Well she could take her pity and shove it up her ars-
…Oh…
Hermione was crying.
…Yeah…
Huh. She could do that? Of course she could. Why wouldn't she? She'd just lost, and she was disappointed… And…
And suddenly he felt ashamed.
Why was he even here? To be a bloody git and taunt her? He shouldn't be seeing this. He actually kinda knew what it was like- and err… He wouldn't like it if somebody spied on him when he was throwing a fit, so he turned to go, but froze at the crunch of footsteps on fresh snow.
"Hermione?" Asked a tall, pretty, brunette. "You're still doing this?"
"I…" Hermione tried to catch her breath. "Why… Why are you here Mum?"
Something about the way she'd said that… It just… Why was he shaking? That didn't make any sense? And yet, for some strange reason, he'd never felt more terrified.
"That was certainly humiliating," said Hermione's mum. Her voice and expression were perfectly pleasant, in a way that made Ron's stomach curl. "How you lost to that impoverished Scottish boy. I talked with some of the… Er… Other sort in the crowd… They informed… well they incoherently rambled at me - as the lower classes do - that you were a genius, that you were the most talented witch since Morgana herself, all because you won some silly award."
"I… Yes… Yes, I did win an award," Hermione said, her voice regaining a little bit of that enthusiastic bubblishness. She straightened happily and handed her mum her polished Order of Merlin. "This is my Order of Merlin, I'd like you to have it Mum. Other recipients include Newt Scamander, Gilderoy Lockhart, and even Albus Dumbledore himself. And I'm the youngest to ever win-"
"Are those names supposed to mean anything to me? They seem like silly characters from a nursery rhyme; did Humpty Dumpty win the award too? Second Class… You ought not settle for participation trinkets like some horrid loser, I've raised you better than that. Regardless, what matters is that you humiliated yourself in this tournament," said the older woman sweetly, dropping the medal in the snow. "You didn't even place. You didn't even have the decency to lose to the champion. You lost to the child who lost to the champion. This is just like when you butchered my favorite song in your piano competition. Even Dan could have played it better. Thousands of pounds, a stable home life, and for what?"
"I'm sorry," said Hermione, scrunching up but meeting her mum's gaze bravely.
"It's one thing to lose. It's another to lose your composure. Falling to that Harry Potter boy was one thing, but you're not to lose to rabble like Ronald Weasley." The older woman sighed. "Do you want to end up mediocre? Settle for some halfwit, end up a second-rate professional, be the family embarrassment? It isn't a good life, and it isn't any easier in the long run."
"I'm sorry," said Hermione. "For making up those lies about Dad. I shouldn't have-"
Tears plopped on the ground. It didn't make any sense. Why was he crying? He wasn't even the one being yelled at.
"Oh please," said the older woman, waving her hand dismissively. "Don't bother with the fake apology. How that useless lout of a man was capable of producing you, My Perfect Hermione, is something I often ponder myself. I can hardly blame you for wondering. Stripping yourself of a useless connection and claiming a more useful one was a necessary delaying tactic. It was a good play, Hermione, so make use of it. There's another dueling tournament at the end of the year. Win."
This had to be a prank. It had to be. Parents couldn't be like this…Family didn't treat each other like this. Not even bad ones like the Malfoys…
Hermione nodded. "Understood."
"Now," said the older woman. "Stop acting like a brat, and clean yourself up. You're unsightly." She threw Hermione a handkerchief, and walked away.
Ron's tears wouldn't stop, even though Hermione's had. Weird...
With a wave of her wand Hermione transformed and followed her mother's footsteps. Her eyes dry, her robes pressed, not a hair out of place, just the same Little Miss Perfect Ron had never known.
The Order of Merlin glinted in the snow, forgotten.
Ron scooped it up in a daze.
XOXOXOXOX
Hermione felt better. She'd regained her composure after a quick pep talk from her mum, and was presentable once more. She firmly retained control over her emotions while the other years had their dueling tournaments, until finally it was time for the awards to be given. Many families had wandered down from their seats to greet their children, but her parents had been thoughtful enough to give her distance after her humiliating display of incompetence. Her etiquette was sorely tested however, when several of her classmates ran to their mummies and daddies like little brats who'd never been sent to boarding school before. She even refrained from rolling her eyes when Daphne Greengrass hugged her mum. What an absolute wanker!
She clapped ever-so-politely as Ginny, Harry, and Ron were awarded first, second, and third place medals respectively, the very picture of a respectful competitor.
Ron snatched his bronze medal from Professor Quirrell, and sprinted to his family to show it off. He seemed quite intent on enjoying his victory. 'Twas wise of course. Because he'd never beat her again.
All the same, it made Hermione quite upset when Ron's father patted his head, acting to all the world like he was quite proud of his son's accomplishments. For a third place finish? What kind of parenting was that? Hadn't he seen Ron lose to his little sister? Where was the encouragement? Where was the accountability? Where were the expectations?
Ron's family didn't care about him. If they cared, they'd try to properly motivate him. They'd have instilled a sense of pride in him, made sure that he knew that such mediocre results were unacceptable. To just be happy being the same as everyone else was… It was…
Seeing Ron laugh with the Twins, celebrate with Ginny, high-five Percival, all after a defeat and a mere third place finish (arguably even more embarrassing than having some horrid second class medal), it was just so very… So very…
Shameless.
Hermione wiped her eyes. She must've still been bothered by her loss. Yes, that must've been it.
Until the Weasley family's nauseating hullabaloo was broken up by the timely arrival of one Harry Potter, who was receiving strange looks from not just the Weasley's, but all the witches and wizards milling about.
"Err…" Arthur Weasley said nervously, moving to the front of the family. "Why didn't you tell us you were a parseltongue Harry? It's really the kind of thing you ought to mention, don't you think?"
"What's a parseltongue?" Asked Harry.
"It means you can talk to snakes," said Ginny. "And it's kinda rare. A lot of… It's kind of associated with the dark arts because of Salazar Slytherin and The Dark Lord, but if anyone with a lick of sense thinks on it for more than a moment they'd realize that it doesn't mean you're evil… I mean, it's just talking with snakes right? It's harmless. But still…" Ginny squirmed. "Sorry about outing you like that. You were trying to hide it right? And I jus- I shouldn't have summoned that snake and I'm sorry."
Aha! Her suspicions were confirmed at last! Harry had heard voices before each attack, obviously because the thing freezing the students was a serpent. Students were being petrified. Hagrid's roosters had been slaughtered. Quod Erat Demonstrandum: the Heir of Slytherin was using a basilisk to petrify students. God she was smart…
…But not smart enough to beat some rube who didn't even know what a parseltongue was.
"If none of you are willing to say it, I will," said Percival, sounding quite put-upon. "Harry. Are you the Heir of Slytherin?"
"I… Er… No," said Harry lamely.
"Exactly what the Heir would say," said Percival pompously. He gazed down maturely at Ron and Ginny. "You're not to hang around with Harry Potter anymore." And then he glanced at Ginny. "I'm quite curious: who taught you how to fight like this, Ginevra? Merlin's Beard, you know more curses than most third years."
"Once again you underestimate me Pinhead," said Ginny loftily, waving around her gold medal insufferably. "Give me some credit. At the very least I know more dark magic than most fourth years."
Percival balked. "So you admit it! He's a dark wizard!"
"Leave off Perce," said Annoying Ron. "Harry wouldn't harm a house elf!"
Hermione was growing rather bored of the Weasley melodrama. Perhaps she ought to focus her attention on a more productive matter. She really had been neglecting the whole Heir of Slytherin mystery hadn't she?
Could it really be Harry?
Because the weapon of choice was a basilisk, it meant that The Heir was a parseltongue. It was supposedly a very rare trait, which Hermione would concede was rather incriminating. She could see perfectly well why one might think Harry Potter was the Heir. If they were a simpleton of course.
"Oh, then why isn't he defending himself?" Asked Pompous Percival.
"I… I have been hearing voices… Before the attacks…" Harry admitted stupidly. Hadn't he seen any crime procedurals? Anything he said could and would be used against him in a court of law. He ought to do the smart thing, and keep his mouth shut! "And sometimes I even… In my dreams, sometimes I see visions of…"
"Harry isn't the Heir of Slytherin," said Neville, joining Ron and Ginny in front of Harry. "He's the best person I've ever met. He'd never attack another student."
As much as she hated to admit it, Neville raised a good point. She knew Harry well, and he wouldn't harm a fly. Luckily there was another famous parseltongue in Magical Britain: Lord Voldemort. And the Heir's actions all seemed aligned with The Dark Lord's desires.
"He as much as admitted it," said Percival. He nodded at Harry sympathetically. " I'm sorry, but I can't have you around Ronald and Ginevra. Only those with the blood of Salazar Slytherin can speak to snakes, and they all turn dark eventually."
Alternatively, one could become a parseltongue through contact with one of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes. That seemed the only way he could imprint his magic on them, and had always been the best explanation for how The Heir was capable of such advanced magic…
…Wait…
Imprinted magic…
…Parseltongue was a very rare skill… Which Harry just happened to possess…
If the Heir was a parseltongue due to a horcrux, didn't that mean that Harry was a horcrux? Why yes, he even had that scar. Harry was a kind, noble boy. In fact, it would be quite truthful to say that Harry was the person Hermione liked the most in all of Hogwarts, even if he lacked Ginny's fire or Ronald's smoldering masculinity. But if Harry was a horcrux, then so long as he lived the Dark Lord was quite invincible.
Defeating The Dark Lord had already seemed almost impossible, but this added several levels of difficulty to the ordeal. It probably made the simple solution of killing Voldemort untenable…
"Eh, put me down Pinhead!" Ginny yelped, as Percival levitated her and Ron away from Harry.
"This isn't a discussion," said Percival. "You're not to hang around Harry Potter anymore. I forbid it."
"Oh sod off Perce," Ron said. "You know that Harry isn't the Heir!"
"Irregardless," said Percival. "Everyone thinks he is, and I shan't have you ruining our family's reputation, or your own. It's not like I'm asking you to bully him, just disassociate until things blow over a little."
"Mum," whined Annoying Ron-
But Ginny interrupted him, full of fury. "I'm not your baby sister anymore Pinhead, you can't tell me what to do! Nobody can! I make my own decisions! Don't try and force this on me Percy, because if you do… If you do… You'll be sorry!"
"I already am sorry Ginny," said Percival, "I don't like doing this, but it's for your own good. When you're older you'll understand that sometimes, if you truly love someone, you have to be the bad guy."
Hermione tilted her head. As Harry was almost certainly a horcrux of Lord Voldemort, she had to agree with Percy.
But Ginny certainly didn't. The little redhead was livid, and it seemed rather dangerous when she was called on to duel the Second Year Champion. Indeed, Ginny pummeled him rather thoroughly, bats crawling out of the poor boy's nose.
Which earned Ginny the right to take on the Third Year Champion: Fred Weasley.
"Raise your wand," said Ginny, shaking. "Raise your damn wand Fred!"
"You're my little sister Ginny," said Fred, sighing. "I'm not going to fight you."
"Fine," said Ginny. "Fine! I'm not gonna tell you what to do Fred, but you're not gonna control me either. Maybe you won't fight me, but I'll fight you. So unless you want to be cut down, raise your bloody wand!"
Fred gazed at Ginny calmly. "Isn't this enough, Ginny? Threatening Percy? This isn't you."
"Don't tell me who I am!" Ginny snarled, and was it Hermione's imagination, or had her eyes just flashed scarlet? "Last warning. I'll do it Fred. I'll hurt you. Don't think that I won't."
Fred sighed. He still hadn't drawn his wand. "Who are you trying to fool? Deep down you're still my sweet baby sis-"
"Diffindo!"
Fred Weasley fell, blood gushing from his ear. Ginny loomed over him, and glared at Percy. She wagged her wand back and forth. "You'll be sorry."
"That's quite enough Miss Weasley," whispered Professor Quirrell. "You're disqualified. Leave. Calm yourself. We'll talk later."
Strange. She'd heard Professor Quirrell's every word, even though he'd whispered them. That shouldn't have been possible around such a large gathering. It was just… everyone was silent. Riveted. Who would want to miss the Weasley family fall apart?
Ron and George were the first to break from the trance. Ron hurried Ginny from the stadium, and George helped Fred along. The Twins were headed for the Hospital Wing. Ron and Ginny appeared to be going to the Slytherin Common Room. Both Fred and George were crying.
Professor Quirrell had vanished.
"Well err…" said Professor Black, walking to the middle of the pitch, his voice enhanced through a Sonorous Charm. "Let's say we cut the tournament short? Who wants to see me and ole' Snivellus fight? Give us a cheer!"
Professor Snape smoldered behind him, his knuckles white against his wand.
The stadium cheered weakly.
"C'mon, that was pathetic," said Professor Black with a smile. "I can't hear you! Give us a cheer!"
They cheered quite a bit louder, and Pure Hermione couldn't help but join in. Despite themselves, everyone was being won over by him. Professor Snape that was, and his smoldering. Afterall, there was a little part in every innocent little girl that yearned for gruesome murder. For purely academic reasons of course.
The two men faced each other. Professor Snape's hatred was met with a knowing smirk from Professor Black.
"Just like the good ole' days, eh Snivellus?"
"Not quite," Professor Snape managed. "You don't have your friends with you, and you'll find that I'm not the same wizard that I was back then. For you see… My restraint is dead. You've killed it."
"Have I now? Are you quite sure?" Asked Professor Black with a smile. "Well my restraint is dead as well, so it'll be an even match. May the best man win."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Legilimens." She peered into Sirius's mind.
His cheer was a lie. But she didn't sense any hatred or fear from Sirius either. Just resignation.
Curious. How very curious.
"Levicorpus," Professor Black shouted, sending a green light at Professor Snape.
"Liberacorpus," Professor Snape drawled, and with a flick of his wrist reflected the curse back at Professor Black. And then he was dangling upside down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.
"Now," Professor Snape whispered, his dark eyes as gleeful as they were empty. "Who wants to see Black's underpants?"
Everyone watched as Professor Snape bullied Sirius. Taunted him, cursed him, and cast a curse that filled Sirius's mouth with suds when he tried to respond. And for all that he was making an arse of himself, Hermione could only come to the same conclusion as everyone else: she would rather be Snivellus than Sirius. Of course, that affected the decision she made next not at all.
No, the reason she knocked on Professor Lockhart's door was simply to ensure that the universe returned to its rightful order.
And the rest, as they say, was herstory.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hoped you liked it! The next chapter is probably the high point of this arc! I've almost finished rough drafts for the entire story. If we can get five reviews, I'll post the next chapter early! And now onto reviews:
Merendinoemiliano - Thanks! That's one of my favorite elements in this story as well!
ViviTheFolle - The Neville Ron relationship is one of the most important relationships in the entire story, so I'm glad you like it! I love your description of Draco, that's pretty much the soul of his character. As for Hermione's duel with Draco, that was staged for Rita's benefit, although she really is bad at dueling as we see here. As for Lockhart, things will become clear in the next chapter. Thanks for the review!