Through Fear and Darkness

Author's Notes: Hey everyone! This will start off on the tail end of Goblet of Fire and will follow a similar-to-canon story except with the pairing of Harry and Hermione and will feature some slight variations of plot. I plan on reaching the story as far as possible. Right now it will stick as close to canon as possible but it will eventually branch off. I'm not going to be bashing any character unless it's someone who is not very well liked in canon. Will prominently feature the perspectives of Hermione and Harry. I love doing this stuff so let me know how it goes, I'm open to criticism and ideas. This will be rated T as I don't plan to feature any sexual adventures, although things might or might not be hinted at. As per the Harry Potter books, there will be some violence and the sort. Thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not owned by me. It belongs to J.K. Rowling, who has made all this come to life for our enjoyment.

Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived

Hermione Granger had always considered herself a very patient witch. After all, she had been friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley for the better part of four years; she found out that sometimes it took a great deal of patience to put up with those two. However, on this particular night, Hermione found herself to be quite uncomfortably impatient. She had been crammed in her seat next to Ron for what seemed like an hour, staring at the sprawling twenty-foot hedge that stood in front of her. She found that ever since Harry first stepped in the maze, she felt extremely worried and uneasy.

Most people talked amongst themselves in hushed tones, some whispering excitedly about the tournament, some about their finals. Hermione didn't understand it. Was she the only one who found this tournament to be insanely barbaric and morally wrong? People have died in this competition. There was a reason it was cancelled. She thought the idea of resurrecting the Triwizard Tournament was completely mental. More so was the inclusion of Harry, who was obviously too young and too underqualified to compete. She knew Harry would never put his name in that wretched goblet, even if he was old enough. Hermione knew he resented his fame; it was quite obvious. Yet everyone assumed he seriously put his name in the goblet and bewitched it so he could be in on the glory.

What rubbish!

Hermione looked over at the Weasley family next to her; they were in deep conversation. Ron was recounting excitedly about Harry's accomplishments in the first and second task to Bill and his mother. She had no doubt that Ron would leave his period of jealousy and rage out of his retelling of events. Even Ron turned against Harry, believing that he put his name in the goblet. Hermione will never forget the comments Ron said about Harry behind his back, and even though Ron had moved passed that and realized how much of a git he was being, Hermione still showed some resentment towards him. Of course, Ron and Harry never brought it up again, so Hermione had no intention to.

BANG!

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as a flash of red pierced the sky above them. Someone had thrown red sparks. The stands went silent; it was deafening. Hermione half hoped, with all her worry, that Harry was the one to call for help. Of course, she had faith in his abilities—she had helped him quite a bit as well—but she had the underlying fear that this task would be too much. Harry was only fourteen! She wasn't scared to admit to herself that she was afraid of losing her friend. While she obviously wanted Harry to emerge victorious, Hermione was convinced that she'd feel much better the sooner she knew Harry was safe.

Then, from the edge of the maze, Viktor Krum appeared with Professor McGonagall in tow. Whispers instantly broke out. Did he win? Did he send up the sparks? The Bulgarian stumbled towards the other students from Durmstrang, his head low and color drained from his face. McGonagall marched to Ludo Bagman, shared a few words with him, then returned to the perimeter of the maze. Bagman stood up and faced the crowd, his wand on his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I regret to inform you that Mr. Viktor Krum of Durmstrang has been disqualified from the competition!"

The stands erupted with noise, a mixture of booing and sighs of relief. Fred and George stood up and made the rounds in the stands, retrieving however much money they bet with other students. Ron shot a glance at Hermione that didn't go unnoticed. Hermione's feud with Ron about Viktor never really disappeared. Hermione glared at Ron. Both knew not to say anything in front of Mrs. Weasley, who had previously taken to believing Rita Skeeter about Hermione and her "love interests".

Hermione looked away and saw Viktor and Karkaroff conversing in what seemed to be hushed tones. Viktor looked scared and Karkaroff looked both furious and afraid, glancing around him. Hermione shuttered and gripped her chair, knuckles turning white. Whatever was in the maze had scared Viktor badly. What about Harry? What if he got lost... Badly hurt... Lost his wand? Horrible thoughts raced through Hermione's head. She closed her eyes and attempted to calm herself down. No. Harry is an exceptionally powerful wizard. He's a fighter. Plus... Mad-Eye is keeping watch through the hedges. Surely he can spot anything with his magical eye. But still...

Gasps erupted around Hermione, breaking her out of her internal pleading. Two more figures appeared out of the bushes. This time Fleur staggered in, her face and body stained with scratches and blood. She appeared to be in a state of shock. Hermione's blood ran cold, and she was gripped with fear. Mad-Eye Moody followed her, clunking his way over to Bagman. As he conversed with Bagman, Hermione could've sworn he saw a look of triumph and glee in his face. As Fleur wandered to her seat, Bagman once again rose.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what a shame! Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons has also been disqualified from the tournament!"

Quiet murmurs flew through the crowd. Ron had turned to Bill and whispered about how Fleur had been disqualified from the second task as well. Hermione, however, eyed Mad-Eye. Instead of returning to the maze as McGonagall had done, he sat down in an empty seat next to Karkaroff. Why didn't he go back? For a split second, Hermione felt overwhelming dread, but it was gone as soon as it came. Moody knows Harry and Cedric are fine. One of them grabbed the cup. Any minute now they'll walk through the hedges.

But minutes passed with no results. Everyone resumed their discussions as normal. Hermione, however, sat still with bated breath. She saw Dumbledore glance at Moody; Hermione suspected he had similar concerns. Yet Dumbledore stayed put, and eventually returned to his conversation with Hagrid.

Suddenly, Karkaroff stood up, his hand clenched around his wrist and his face screwed in pain. He took a quick look around him; not many people noticed his abruptness. He took a couple steps back and seemed to make a break for it. With surprising agility, Mad-Eye launched himself up and grabbed the Head of Durmstrang. Professor Snape stood up as well and watched as Moody hissed angrily at Karkaroff. After words were thrown back and forth, Moody released Karkaroff, who sported a look of terror on his face. Karkaroff took a couple more steps away from the stands and glanced at Snape, who gave him what seemed to be a warning look. After a sweep over the crowd, the Head of Durmstrang scampered out of the stadium.

"What do you reckon that was all about?" Seamus asked from Hermione's left.

"I dunno," Hermione responded, her voice cracking. Seamus turned to her.

"Blimey, you look like you're ill! Are you alright?"

No.

"Yeah," Hermione squeaked. She felt a shiver go down her spine. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She felt sick to her stomach and looked around. None of the other students seemed to have batted an eye, but Bill gave her a knowing look. He as well thought something was amiss. She turned her attention back to the ground. Dumbledore had finally gotten up and was in deep conversation with Snape, who was likewise holding his arm, his face slightly pained.

"Ron, something's not right!" Hermione whispered to Ron as Fred and George made their way past them, still grabbing bets from supporters of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Ron looked at Dumbledore and Snape, then at Mad-Eye. His eyes narrowed.

"Hang on. Why isn't Moody watching for Harry and Cedric?" Hermione shook her head in confusion. Ron's voice hinted at worry. "He doesn't seem to be too concerned though, right?"

Bill leaned over. "C'mon you two. Harry and Cedric are fine. If Moody doesn't think he needs to watch them, then surely he thinks they can handle themselves. Plus, McGonagall is still out there..." His words were reassuring, but his face and his tone made it clear he wasn't too sure himself. Hermione nodded. He's right. There's no reason to panic. Hermione repeated those words to herself for the next couple minutes all the white fighting down her dinner.

POP!

Harry and Cedric slid into existence. It looked like both of them had a firm grip on the cup. The stands erupted with noise as the students stood up and cheered, roaring with celebration. Hermione felt elation spread to her face. She and Ron cheered as well; Seamus did a little dance to himself next to her. Hermione looked through the heads of all the students and caught a glimpse of Harry and Cedric, still on the ground. Dumbledore crouched over them. Her view was obstructed once again, and she joined Seamus in his celebratory jig.

Then, like a light had switched off, the mood changed. Hermione heard gasps and saw Bill stiffen. She stopped her dancing and tried to peer through the crowd. Harry and Cedric had not moved. Fudge was now by Dumbledore's side; McGonagall had rushed out of the maze with a look of worry strewn across her face. The crowd started sharing whispers, the sound making its way to the back: What's happened? Who won? Is everything alright? Dead? DEAD?

Hermione froze, her joy leaving her body as quickly as it came. Dead? Hermione caught another glimpse. Dumbledore was turning Harry over. Hermione's heart dropped to her chest. No... Can't be... She started to hear screams. Her eyes felt stingy as tears started to swim. Ron looked equally as terrified, his face was shining red and his mouth hung open. Hermione's head felt foggy. He can't be dead! He just can't be! The tears were now streaming down her face. She felt her knees getting wobbly and her dinner threatened to come up once again. The screams flooded Hermione's ears once again.

"He's dead!"

"Diggory's dead!"

"Look!" Seamus grabbed Hermione's arm. Hermione tried her best to blink the tears out of her eyes. Mad-Eye had grabbed Harry and pushed him along out of sight. Hermione blinked once. Blinked twice. Grief was met with confusion. Hang on.

"Cedric is dead!" another student cried.

Realization dawned on Hermione. Harry's alive! He's alright! But Hermione looked down at the ground, and saw Cedric lying there, motionless, eyes wide open. Not able to contain it anymore, she retched, though no one, not even Ron or Seamus, seemed to have noticed. She felt guilty; she was so preoccupied about Harry that she completely forgot about Cedric. She felt her eyes sting once more as the second wave of tears escaped her eyes. Cedric had been nothing but nice to the trio. He was competitive, sure, but he showed nothing but compassion towards others. She wished she knew him more; he was a very capable wizard as well.

Hermione watched as Bagman, Fudge, and Filch delicately lifted Cedric's body and carried it away with Madam Pomfrey in tow. With a twisted heart she saw that they were followed by Amos Diggory, leaning on Hagrid for support as he wailed into the night. For a moment, the stadium was silent and still, broken only by the sniffles and nose blowing. Then, as if on cue, many of the students detached themselves from their seats and traversed towards the castle.

Mrs. Weasley held a brave face, though her body language revealed her emotions. "Let's go," she said stiffly.

"Where?" Ron's voice was coarse.

"The Hospital Wing. Harry will be there. NOW!" she barked. Hermione jumped and led the way down the stands. She couldn't bear for them to see her face. Her eyes were still sparking with tears and her face was puffy and red. She didn't dare speak; she knew her voice would be thick with emotion and grief. Emotions had gotten the better of her tonight, and she was ashamed.

As she led the group up to the castle, Hermione mulled the events over in her head, which strangely calmed her down. She knew that the Triwizard Tournament was dangerous, but she had the suspicion that something else had happened. The disqualification of Viktor and Fleur, Mad-Eye's triumphant attitude that appeared too early, Karkaroff's fleeing. Cedric's death. There was just something that wasn't right. And Harry. Hermione just wished that Harry was alright. She knew that this tournament had taken a toll on him; from everyone's resentment towards him being placed in the tournament, to Rita's unbearable writing, and now this. She'll never forget the look of horror Harry had plastered on his face when he first stepped out to meet the dragon. And seeing him tonight...

Hermione shook herself. She did not want to think about this right now. She'd prided herself for her ability to stray away from too many emotions, but over the last few years, she found it increasingly more difficult. After all, Harry and Ron were her best friends. She'd go as far as to say they were her only real friends. Not that she didn't have any friends in the muggle world, but it was difficult to find someone who truly understood her. And while Harry and Ron could both be very thick and stupidly stubborn, Hermione loved them with all her heart, and she couldn't bear to think what state she'd be in if something happened to them.

The trip was taken in silence, save for a few sniffles. Eventually they made their way to the Hospital Wing. Upon entering, they found it to be nearly completely empty; Madame Pomfrey was bustling about, making sure the beds were made, muttering angrily under her breath. "Three! Three! And one dead! I warned them. I warned them! What were they thinking bringing this wretched tournament back?"

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Weasley asked. Madam Pomfrey gave a slight jump, snapping out of her internal fuming.

"Yes?"

"Is Harry Potter here?"

Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrowed. "No. I would've thought that Professor Moody would've brought him here straight away, but it seems—"

The doors swept open, interrupting Pomfrey, and Professor Snape strolled into the ward. "I need to borrow you, Madam Pomfrey, immediately. I'll explain on the way!" His tone was urgent; he didn't pay any notice to the others in the room.

"You four can stay here. I'm sure Mr. Potter will be arriving shortly," said Madam Pomfrey. Snape opened his mouth, as if to speak, but pursed them tight and led Pomfrey out of the room.

Ron turned to the others. "What in the world was that all about?" Everyone shook their heads. Most of the wait was silent and torturous. Mrs. Weasley kept glancing at the front doors, as if someone was going to come bursting in. Bill had his hand on his mother's shoulder. Ron and Hermione stole glances at each other, silently praying that nothing more could have happened. Ron's face was laced with worry; Hermione didn't know what she looked like, but she felt like a mess. She was just thankful her tears were long gone.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the doors opened again. It was Madam Pomfrey, levitating a limp body of Mad-Eye. She set the body down on a bed and set his wooden leg and magical eye down next to him. Hermione and Ron shared a look. Worry spread to both of their faces. Mrs. Weasley, tired of sitting and waiting for nothing, jumped up and stormed over to the nurse.

"What happened. Where's Harry. What—"

Before Mrs. Weasley could continue her questioning, the Dumbledore entered the room. Behind him was Harry and a dog. Hermione instantly recognized him as Sirius and took a quick look at Mrs. Weasley; from her understanding the witch did not know that Sirius was innocent. Mrs. Weasley, however paid no attention to the dog. Instead, she made for Harry, her arms open.

Dumbledore softly stepped in front of Harry. "Molly, please listen for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him, you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening." His eyes swept over Bill, Ron, and Hermione.

Hermione looked at Harry as Dumbledore shared a few more words with Madam Pomfrey. He looked so tired. His eyes were glazed over, and his eyelids were heavy; his face was scratched and worn. Her heart wanted to burst. She'd never seen Harry so vulnerable. Something truly terrible happened, something worse than what she would've imagined. She wanted to ask him so much, but she knew—as Dumbledore said—Harry needed peace and quiet.

Harry stumbled after Pomfrey to his bed, as if in a trance. Hermione gave Harry a reassuring smile when he passed, and he gave a very feeble attempt at one in return. Ron looked like he wanted to give his reassurances, but words never came out of his mouth; he made do with a little nod and a tight smile. Harry disappeared behind the screen as he changed, and they all gathered around him when he was done. Hermione looked at him as he laid in his bed, trying to find words of comfort.

"I'm alright. Just tired," he said shakily. Mrs. Weasley patted down his bed sheets as if tucking him in. Hermione smiled. She knew little about Harry's relatives, but she knew by the offhanded comments Harry let slip that they were horrible people. Mrs. Weasley, however, treated him like her son, and it made Hermione happy that he had a family he could love.

"Here," Madam Pomfrey said, handing Harry a goblet and a potion, "You'll need to drink all of this. It's a potion for dreamless sleep." Her tone was sweet and kind. Harry took a couple swigs of the potion gratefully. He sank into his bed and peacefully closed his eyes, his breathing evening out.

"Now," she said quietly but sternly, turning to the others. "You can stay but be quiet. When he wakes up, don't hound him. He's experienced too much tonight."

"What happened?" Ron blurted out. Mrs. Weasley smacked him. "...Sorry."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. She looked like she didn't want to say anything, but reluctantly surged forward. "I won't say much because Professor Dumbledore will surely address the whole school in a much more accurate manner. But seeing as you're here..." She looked at Harry, who was already in deep sleep. "From what I understand, You-Know-Who is back."

Silence. Stunned silence. Mrs. Weasley went white in the face. Bill and Ron looked aghast. Hermione found herself feeling sick again; she did her best not to gag. She tried her hardest to formulate a thought but found that for the first time in her life, her mind was truly blank. "Does..." she started, still fighting to not gag. "Does that m-mean th-th-that—"

"That's enough!" Madam Pomfrey interrupted. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm not going to say anything else! However," her voice was stern and full of warning. "Not a word to Harry about this. Not a single word. Not until he's ready!"

She looked at the group almost threateningly. Ron gulped and Hermione nodded. Madam Pomfrey—after giving them all hawk-like stares—returned to her office. Hermione looked down at Harry. Her stomach churned. Everything's different now. She found that her brain resumed to formulating thoughts; now her mind was working at full speed. If You-Know-Who is back, then that means Harry must've seen him. He must've escaped. And You-Know-Who wouldn't have let him go away easy. She thought about Cedric. Had he died at the hands of You-Know-Who, or did the die in the maze. Was You-Know-Who part of the maze?

Hermione shook her head. She forced herself to stop thinking about such things. She would get her answer soon. Right now there were more important things. She looked down at Harry again, sleeping in peacefulness. Once again, her heart soared. He was so brave. He never backed down. And yet... Hermione gently pulled the glasses off his face and set them down on the bedside table. She knew that there was something else under all that. She knew he was human and that he was scared. The thought comforted her. He didn't want to be above anyone else; he wanted to be normal. She knew he probably would never get the chance. But he still pulled through. Hermione graced a smile as she looked at him.

After all the pain and suffering, he was the Boy Who Lived.

She was so proud of him.