Well, home at last for five weeks, and recovering from head sugery. only my right ear is left to fully recover, and until it is I am left numb and deaf on that side, but... what do you do... Please review! and so forth...
Chapter Seven
Boy-who-lived… to be Slandered
Draco wasn't surprised when Harry and Faykan didn't come down for breakfast on Sunday. What did surprise him was seeing Ron, sitting alone at the Gryffindor table, pigging out like he was going to die tomorrow. Hermione ducked inside, glared at Ron, but only grabbed a large pile of toast and departed again. Draco decided to follow her, even though it was pretty obvious where Harry and Faykan had holed up.
Faykan was brewing furiously, while Harry sat gloomily nearby, watching as Faykan dumped a handful of white powder into the potion, stirring clockwise eight times, and then dropping a slimy looking organ in. Hermione was talking absently to them, trying to reassure them. "Well, of course I knew you both hadn't entered yourselves," she was saying as Draco closed the door behind him, "The look on your faces when Dumbledore read out your names! But the question is who did put it in? Because Moody's right... I don't think any student could have done it... they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's…"
"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.
Hermione hesitated. Faykan slammed the stirring rod on the table at the sound of the name, and Draco pieced together what exactly had happened.
"Does the stupid jealous git still think we entered ourselves?" Faykan said snidely.
"Well... no, I don't think so... not really," said Hermione awkwardly.
"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"
"Well, you said it yourself, he's jealous," Hermione said despairingly.
"Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"
"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always one of you who get all the attention, you both know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Faykan open his mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it... but, well… you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friends, and he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many..."
"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it... People gawping at me everywhere I go..."
"Enough of this," Faykan interrupted angrily, "I don't want to hear about him anymore today. Lets get to work, Draco, Patronus charm, over there, go. Hermione, healing, you're still having slight problems sealing cuts properly. Harry, write to Sirius, we need his advice, off you get." Faykan said dismissively, directing each of them to their stations while he turned back to the potion.
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
If Harry had thought that matters would improve once everyone got used to the idea of him and Faykan both being champion, the following day showed him how mistaken he was. They could no longer avoid the rest of the school once they were back at lessons and it as clear that the rest of the school, just like the Gryffindors, thought they both had entered themselves for the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, they were not completely enthusiastic about it.
The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, remained congenially friendly outwardly to both Harry and Faykan, but one Herbology lesson shed light on what they truly felt. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley admitted that most of the Hufflepuffs supported Faykan, thinking that as he was the 'true' champion of Hogwarts he was more deserving, but they mentioned that they personally would support Harry just as much. Ron didn't talk to either of them during the lesson, despite Hermione's attempts to start conversations between the four of them.
He would have been looking forward to seeing Hagrid under normal circumstances, but Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins too, the first time he would come face-to-face with them since becoming a champion.
Predictably, Nott arrived at Hagrid's cabin with his familiar sneer firmly in place.
"Ah, look, boys, it's the champions," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt they're going to be around much longer... Half the Triwizard champions have died... how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."
Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but Nott had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Nott completely.
"Take this thing for a walk?" he repeated in disgust, staring into one of the boxes. "And where exactly are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"
"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Err… yeh might want ter put on yer dragon hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry, Faykan, yeh both come here an' help me with this big one...
Hagrid's real intention, however, was to talk to them away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then turned to face them and said, very seriously, "So… yer competin', huh… In the tournament… School champions…"
"Unfortunately…" Faykan replied sulkily.
Hagrid's beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under his wild eyebrows.
"No idea who put yeh in fer it?
"You believe we didn't do it, then?" said Harry, concealing with difficulty the rush of gratitude he felt at Hagrid's words.
"Course I do," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh, an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."
"Wish I knew who did do it," said Harry bitterly.
"I have a suspicion…" Faykan muttered angrily under his breath.
"Ah, I don' know, boys," Hagrid sighed suddenly, looking back down at them with a worried expression on his face. "School champions... everythin' seems ter happen ter you two, doesn' it?"
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Severus looked up when a knock sounded on his privet chamber doors. It was late, far past curfew, but he had said in the note he slipped to Undol that he could come at any time he was free. Sighing, Severus rose, setting aside the papers he was grading, and opened the door partially. The large black fox slinked its was inside, and stared at Severus with those piercing blue eyes until he reclosed the door. Only then did they boy change back into a human.
"I'm sorry for coming so late Professor, but…" Undol began but Severus held up his hand to forestall excuses.
"I do not care your reasoning Mr. Undol, I am aware that you are very busy, but in the future try to give me some warning of when you intend to 'drop by'," he admonished.
"Yes sir." He said, grinning slightly. Severus frowned, why had he agreed to this nonsense? Clearly he was being possessed if he had actually felt sympathy for a student, let alone a Gryffindor.
"So, let's get this over with, what's troubling you so severely Mr. Undol." Severus said, reseating himself in his leather armchair. He still couldn't believe that he was playing therapist for the boy. Undol sat on the couch in front of Severus's empty fireplace; he never felt the need to use it, as warming charms was far easier.
"What isn't troubling me would be more accurate, sir," he said, sighing dejectedly, "Harry, the tournament, Nott, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Moody, you, Voldemort…"
"Don't say the name," Severus said sharply, but Undol rolled his eyes. Severus then registered that Undol was worrying over him, but pushed the thoughts aside, "You seem to worry a great deal about Mr. Potter's well being, why is that?" he said, changing the subject.
"Oh, I think you know why… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord etc. etc." the boy said dismissively. "But he seems to be much more than that to you…" Severus persisted, rationalizing that he defiantly wasn't interested for personal reasons. "He's my best friend; I love him like a brother, so naturally I'm worried about him. You've seen how much shite we get ourselves into over the years. We've both nearly died at least twice a year now." Severus nodded; it was true that they seemed to attract an extraordinary amount of trouble consistently.
"And now with this stupid bloody tournament, not only are we both in danger again, but now some of our friends are turning on us, and with all the people watching and following me around, and Nott making comments whenever he can, I don't know how much longer I can control myself." He continued, and Severus noticed that his hands were shaking. Clearly Dumbledore's scheme of unraveling the boy was working far too well.
"I'm scared Professor." They boy said, his voice starting to wavier and tears forming in his eyes, "I'm so scared that I might lose myself and hurt someone, hurt Harry! I couldn't live with myself if that happened…" Undol broke down into sobs, and Severus sighed, pulling a Calming Draught out of his robe pocket. He knelt next to Undol and pressed the vial to the boy's lips, tilting it back as Undol obediently swallowed the liquid.
Slowly the boy' sobs dwindled, "Thank you," Undol managed to mumble after he dried his tears on the sleeve of his pajamas.
"Mr. Undol, what makes you think that you alone need to carry the weight of Potter's safety, there are many wizards both older and wiser than you that could…"
To Severus' astonishment, the boy started laughing, boiling angry laughter that carried deep resentment in it, "You mean like Saint Dumbledore, who left him to rot at his horrible muggle relatives for ten years, and who's still making him return there every year. The same man who left the Sorcerer's stone to be saved by eleven year olds? Who left the school when there was a basilisk on the loose; promptly returning after it was killed? Who allowed a supposed wanted criminal break into school grounds, twice directly into the castle itself? The same daft old bastard who not only allowed two fourteen year olds to participate in a highly dangerous tournament, but arranged for at least one of them, if not both, to be entered secretly! No Severus, I do not trust Dumbledore to care about Harry in the slightest."
Undol jumped up, a small angry smile spreading across his face, "Thanks Professor, it feels real good to get these feelings off my chest." He said as he bounded to the door. "I'll send you a note if I want to talk again, alright. Good night Professor." And he closed the door softly behind him, leaving a quite and rather dumbstruck Severus to reconsider why he had agreed to this nonsense of playing mind healer.
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Harry moaned as he and Faykan were led by Collin Creevey from their Potions class to some destination unknown where Mr. Bagman waited to have a photo shoot. Harry shuddered at the thought of more publicity, but had no choice in the matter. Professor Snape had frowned when Collin came to collect them both, but had released them without a fuss. Harry wondered what had changed, last year Snape would probably have refused to let anyone leave his class early, school champions or not.
"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" said Colin, acting as though Faykan wasn't present. "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"
"Yeah, really amazing," said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"
"The Daily Prophet, I think!"
"Great," said Faykan dully.
"Good luck!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. Faykan pushed the door open without knocking.
They found themselves in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.
Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.
Bagman suddenly spotted Harry and Faykan, got up quickly, and bounded forward.
"Ah, here they are! Champion numbers three and four! In you come, boys, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment…"
"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.
"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."
"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry.
Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile skin handbag ended in two inch nails, painted crimson.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of color?"
"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is, if Harry has no objection?"
"Err…" said Harry.
"Absolutely not." Faykan answered for him
Rita Skeeter frowned, looking down at Faykan, who glared back at her. "Nonsense, I sure Harry wouldn't mind a short interview," she said, reaching to take Harry's arm in her talon-nailed hands. However, she withdrew hastily when Faykan's wand materialized in her face.
"I said, absolutely not…" Faykan hissed at her in a low voice.
"My, my, what's this about?" Dumbledore had entered the room.
Faykan lowered his wand slowly, and Rita Skeeter moved back over to her photographer, "Nothing, Dumbledore, just a little misunderstanding," she said quickly, smiling widely. Harry counted three gold teeth.
"Well, alright, come along boys. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start." Dumbledore said cheerfully. Harry and Faykan joined Krum and Fleur near the velvet covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Harry saw her slip a piece of parchment out of her bag, spread it on her knee, suck the end of an acid green quill, and place it on top of the parchment.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."
Harry looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Harry had met Mr. Ollivander before; he was the wand maker from whom Harry and Faykan had bought their own wands over three years ago in Diagon Alley.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.
Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.
"Hmm..." he said.
He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it chose to his eyes and examined it carefully.
"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible… rosewood... and containing... dear me..."
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
So Fleur was part Veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Ron... then he remembered that Ron wasn't speaking to him.
"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"
Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.
"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Undol, you next."
Fleur glided back to her seat, watching Faykan with interest as he passed her.
"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Faykan handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Giant eagle feather… eleven inches… elm… rather rigid. But… what are these burn marks from?"
"Black fire, I was knocked into some first year, I almost died…" Faykan said, glancing at Dumbledore with what Harry thought was a look of disdain.
"Dear, dear, these marks will never come out of the wood, but it still functions properly?" Mr. Ollivander asked.
"Perfectly," Faykan responded and Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Faykan's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."
Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.
"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."
He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.
"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!" The hornbeam wand let off a blast hike a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.
"Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Which leaves... Mr. Potter."
Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.
"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."
Harry could remember too. He remembered the day he had received his wand and learn that it shared a core with Lord Voldemort's wand. Mr. Ollivander had said that he expected great things from Harry.
Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort's wand was something it couldn't help, rather as he couldn't help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn't about to tell the room about it. Currently only Mr. Ollivander, himself, and Faykan knew about it.
Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now, or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end…"
Feeling that at last something had gone right today, Harry got up to leave, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"
"Err, yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."
The photographs took a long time. But finally, after many changes in grouping and several individual shots each, they were free to go.
Together, Harry and Faykan went down to the Great Hall for a quick dinner, and then returned to the Room of Requirement. They found one of the many black ravens Faykan had called to Hogwarts waiting for Harry, a scroll of parchment clutched in its beak. It was from Sirius:
Harry,
I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case this bird, rather magnificent plan to use ravens by the way, is intercepted - we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone or with just your closest friends by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?
I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try at both you and Faykan. Entering you both in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose.
Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.
Sirius
~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~
Hermione noticed the unease on both Faykan's and Harry's faces over the next two weeks. The first task was drawing closer, and they had no idea what was expected of them.
In the meantime, life was becoming steadily worse for them both, as Rita Skeeter published her piece about the tournament, more as a highly colored and very inaccurate story of Harry's life.
Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Faykan hadn't been mentioned at all, at least as a champion.
The lies that foul woman had spun about poor Harry made Hermione sick. Not only had she made up false quotes from Harry himself, but she had twisted words that others had said about him.
'Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.'
Sure, Hermione had received her share of abuse from the Slytherins, Pansy Parkinson in specific, but it paled in comparison to what Harry was going through. Coupling this with the fact that Ron was still refusing to speak to him or Faykan, and Hermione feared that Harry was past due for an emotional breakdown.
Hermione was sitting alone in the library, she had felt it prudent to give Faykan and Harry some time alone that they desperately needed. They were probably demolishing things in the Room of Requirement even now to relieve the strain of the last month. She turned slightly in her char, and noticed the Durmstrang champion, Victor Krum, watching her from the other side of the room, his group of infatuated girls giggling as they hid behind bookcases. Hermione rolled her eyes; honestly he was just a Quidditch player. Hermione suddenly remembered that there was a Hogsmeade weekend just before the first task, perhaps she could get Ron, Faykan and Harry to at least speak to each other, or possibly make up then.
Hermione gathered her books and left the library quickly, passing a frowning Krum in the process. She hurried up to the seventh floor and into the Room of Requirement. What she saw stunned her into awed silence.
Faykan, Harry and Draco, all stripped from the waist up, were battling full out in the center of the room, swords flashing and spells flying as they danced across the floor. Sweat poured from their faces as they attack, dodged, parried, and shouted their incantations. It looked like both Draco and Harry were teamed up together against Faykan, but the fight was still fairly balanced.
Hermione watched Faykan's face as he grit his teeth in concentration, blocking a strike from Harry as he fired a curse at Draco, who raised a shield to defend himself in seconds. On and on they went, trading spells and blows back and forth until Harry caught Faykan's sword hand with an Expelliarmus, sending the blade flying. He attempted to follow with a thrust of his own weapon, but Faykan twisted, kicking Harry in the back to push past and summoning his sword back to him.
The contest finally concluded with the combined efforts of Harry and Draco, who sent a barrage of spells at Faykan, succeeding at hitting with another disarming charm to his wand, and a stinging hex to his leg which caused him to trip into Harry. This sent them both sprawling to the ground, Faykan landing atop Harry. Draco was laughing at them as they attempted to disentangle themselves from the other. They finally stood, Faykan blushing madly, but Hermione knew the real reasons for his embarrassment.
"Oh, hello Hermione." he called to direct attention away from himself. Now that they weren't moving, Hermione could get a good look at them. She had to admit, the view wasn't bad. The combination of flying and this training had done wonders for all three boys' physiques. They were all muscularly thin, and if Hermione wasn't set that she was going to be 'just friends' with them she'd defiantly have found any of them immensely attractive.
"Hello Fay, Draco, Harry." She said as they started pulling their cloths back on. "There's a Hogsmeade visit tomorrow, I think it'll do you two some good to get out of the castle for a bit." She suggested casually to Faykan and Harry.
"What about Ron, though?" Faykan said, still breathing hard from their workout. "Don't you want to go with him?"
"Oh... well..." Hermione went slightly pink. "I thought we might meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks..."
"No," said Harry flatly.
"Oh C'mon, this is so stupid…"
"I'll come, but I'm not meeting Ron, and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak." Harry insisted.
"Oh all right then..." Hermione said, surrendering, "but I hate talking to you in that cloak, I never know if I'm looking at you or not."
So the next day Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak in the dormitory, and they set off invisible with Hermione for Hogsmeade.
"People keep looking at me now," said Hermione grumpily as they came out of Honeydukes Sweetshop later, eating large cream filled chocolates. "They think I'm talking to myself."
"Don't move your lips so much then."
"Come on, please just take off your cloak for a bit, no one's going to bother you here."
"Oh yeah?" said Harry. "Look behind you."
Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had just emerged from the Three Broomsticks pub. Talking in low voices, they passed right by Hermione without looking at her. When they were gone, Harry said, "She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task."
"She's gone," said Hermione, looking where she thought Harry and Faykan were. "Why don't we go and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it's a bit cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!" she added irritably, correctly interpreting their silence.
The Three Broomsticks was packed, mainly with Hogwarts students enjoying their free afternoon, but also with a variety of magical people enjoying the wizarding pub.
Hermione pointed out a table, and went to buy three butterbeers, finally joining Harry and Faykan moments later and slipping their drinks to them under the cloak.
"I look like such an idiot, sitting here on my own," she muttered. "Lucky I brought something to do."
And she pulled out a notebook in which she had been keeping a record of S.P.E.W. members. She had postpone any further recruiting and had been jotting down questions to ask house elves when she met some.
"You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W.," Hermione said thoughtfully, looking around the pub.
"Yeah, right," said Faykan. "Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?"
"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" she hissed back. "You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens."
"No idea, ask Fred and George," said Harry.
"Look, it's Hagrid!" said Hermione, noticing the large man enter the pub with Professor Moody. Hermione watched as Moody's magic eye swiveled toward them, then he tapped Hagrid in the small of the back (being unable to reach his shoulder), muttered something to him, and then the pair of them made their way back across the pub toward Hermione, Harry and Faykan's table.
"All right, Hermione?" said Hagrid loudly.
"Hello," said Hermione, smiling back.
Moody limped around the table and bent down; Hermione thought he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until he muttered, "Nice cloak, boys."
"Can your eye, I mean, can you…?" came Harry's surprised voice softly
"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."
Hagrid was beaming at where the two boys sat, Hermione guessed at least being unable to see them. He leaned down and whispered something so soft that Hermione couldn't hear, then straightened up.
"Nice ter see yeh, Hermione," he said loudly, then winked, and departed. Moody followed him.
"Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?" Harry said, very surprised.
"Does he?" said Hermione, looking startled. "I wonder what he's up to. I don't know whether you should go, Harry..." She looked nervously around and hissed, "It might make you late for Sirius."
"It may, but I think we should chance it," Said Faykan, "He might be trying to help us with the tournament."
Hermione figured that was a good reason to go, and reluctantly agreed.