"'Courage is not always standing strong. Sometimes, courage is admitting to yourself that it's better to live another day, to regroup. Sometimes, courage means admitting to yourself that you're not yet good enough.'"
-Sayern nar-Hazozh (History of the Treaty), translated from Gobblededook circa 1952
A few days before Christmas break, the students of Hogwarts gathered in the Great Hall. Most of them were fairly skeptical- after all, the last task was pretty boring to watch. Why should this one be any better? Only persistent rumors that the first task had been a fluke, that this one promised to be totally awesome, dragged them out of their warm, comfy beds that morning.
They were pleasantly surprised to discover that their hopes hadn't been in vain. Four large screens much like the ones in Muggle cinemas clung to the walls in front of each table. They would obviously be used to keep an eye on the champions.
The hall was chilly, a coldness that seeped up from the stone floor and stone walls. Torches tried to beat back the cold but failed. Students huddled together for extra warmth. A few cast heating spells for themselves and their friends.
The doors opened. Dumbledore, followed by the four Heads of House, entered the room, the students, most of who had fortunately managed to warm themselves, looked up expectantly. They approached the Head Table, pulled out their chairs. The Heads sat, Dumbledore remained standing.
At the roped-off section of the Ravenclaw table which had been reserved for champions, Hermione swallowed. "Luna, I hope that they'll prove us wrong."
"I suppose you can do that. It won't change anything, though."
"I know," she sighed. "But it will make me feel better until they confirm the riddle's meaning."
Dumbledore lifted his arms. "We are gathered here today to witness our champions compete in the Hufflepuff Task. As Hufflepuff House won the first task, they may name their chains first."
Cedric Diggory, that House's unofficial leader, stood. "Sorry, Professor, but we can't do that."
The headmaster arched a silvery brow. "I beg your pardon?"
"The riddle in the stone says that we have to give you guys a hostage. We're not going to." He sat, unwilling to be moved. The other Hufflepuffs nodded, just as firm and resolute as their leader.
"I see," Dumbledore noted slowly. "Very well, then. You will be docked five points from your final score. By the time I come around to you again, please have your impediments picked out."
Sprout winced. The Hufflepuffs put their heads together. Hermione could hear their worried whispers.
"Ravenclaw, please announce who will take each of your impediments."
Penelope Clearwater rose to her feet. "Samuel Bell has volunteered to be our 'stolen, sleeping champion.'" That was a lie- he'd been pressured into it by the upper years. When Hermione had found out what they were doing, she had volunteered herself, but Bell had finally been persuaded. As the first year champion, he was the least skilled and experienced.
"Luna Lovegood won't be woken from a dream." She was dreamy enough anyways that few would notice the difference. "Hermione Granger will tremble in skittish fright. Cho Chang will know not even one word. Sadie Fawcett will become immune to mandrake's scream. John Davies will be as bat and night, and I can't at all be heard." As the eldest, she had the best grasp of silent magic.
"Very well," Dumbledore said. He clapped his hands; potions appeared on six of the champions' plates. "Please do not drink until it is time to begin. Now, Slytherin, who will be taking which burden?"
The Slytherins had chosen mostly the same age-chain format: the youngest would be the hostage, the oldest the mute. Daphne met Hermione's eyes as her potion, identical to the Ravenclaw girl's, landed on her plate. She smiled slightly, raised her glass in a toast but did not drink. Hermione lifted her own vial. "To unity."
"Gryffindor." A frown marred Dumbledore's wrinkled face. Mark Potter withered under his mentor's disapproving gaze. "As you did not decide beforehand who would do what, your impediments will be selected randomly. The Hufflepuffs will do the same, as they too did not decide."
Astoria Greengrass wilted. She cast a nervous glance to her older sister, who smiled reassuringly.
"Will the four hostages, the students with blue vials, please step forward."
Two first years, a second year, and Cedric Diggory stepped forward. All were stiff and tense, though the Hufflepuff tried to hide it.
"Please drink."
Diggory had swallowed his before Dumbledore had finished speaking. He staggered for a moment, lifting a hand to his head, before collapsing to the floor. A house-elf appeared, spirited him away, three more teleported in to grab the other three champions.
"The students without potions should step forward now."
The students without potions stepped forward. Cho Chang twisted her dark hair, eyes determined. They approached their Heads of House, who drew their wands and fired. The champions' eyes glazed over.
"Cho," Penelope called, "come back here."
The younger Ravenclaw, a dreamy smile plastered across her face, ambled back over to her table. Her eyelids fluttered, her head nodded. She was about to fall asleep, which was odd- the Confundus Charm usually didn't work that way. Hermione chewed her lip. Was this the Confundus or something else?
"Your hostages have been hidden throughout Hogwarts. You must find them and bring them back to the Great Hall. There is no time limit on this task, though speed will be rewarded. You will not have to worry about any obstacles save for the school's standard magical obstacles- the moving stairs, for example- and your teachers. If they catch you without your teammates, you will lose a point from your total score." He nodded at the screens. "However, this only counts if they catch you in person, though they will obviously be watching from here. If you manage to split up and regroup before they catch you, you will not lose your points. Be cautious, though. One point might not seem like much, but they will quickly add up." He chuckled. "Or should I say that they will subtract down?"
Cho Chang and the Gryffindor roared with raucous laughter. The Gryffindor actually slapped his knees. The curse they'd suffered had obviously done a number on their sense of humor.
"On the count of three, the champions will down their potions." Robes rustled as the students reached for their drinks.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Luna?"
Silver eyes met brown. "Just remember that I'll be here to protect you. Keep telling that to the Potion of Panic."
Hermione's lips twitched. "I'll try to remember."
"One, two…."
Hermione lifted her glass in Daphne's direction. She and the Slytherin pretended to toast before Daphne turned to Astoria. Hermione clinked her vial against Luna's.
"Three!"
Hermione drank. The Potion of Panic was cold and thick with a vaguely citrus flavor. It left an unpleasant aftertaste on the back of her tongue. The inside of her mouth felt covered in grit. Around her, other students did the same.
"Let the Hufflepuff Task begin!"
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then John Davies gasped, hands flying to his now-blind eyes. He'd known what would happen, of course, but knowing he wouldn't be able to see anything and actually losing his sight were two different things. Next to him, the now-deaf Sadie Fawcett frowned. She'd seen her friend's mouth move but hadn't heard anything. A second later, logic caught up with her: the potion had obviously done its job.
"I don't feel any different," Luna announced.
Penelope mouthed something at her. As she was now mute, Luna had to resort to lip-reading. "Why, thank you." She laid a hand across Hermione's. "Yours is the slowest, but it should be kicking in right about now."
Beneath her palm, Hermione's hand began to tremble. Luna patted it. "Oh, dear."
The world was too loud, too bright, too terrifying. How had she never noticed its true horror before? Hermione's eyes darted about, bulging almost out of their sockets. Her muscles went rigid, joints locking into place.
She was insane. Why else would she be in the domain of her enemy, the man who wanted to kill her? Blaise had Dreamed it; Dreamed that Dumbledore wanted Air dead. And there he was, the Spider himself, not more than fifty feet away. Hermione wanted nothing more than to leap to her feet, to sprint to safety. In fact, that's exactly what she would do. She would get up and run and run and never stop-
Luna gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Hermione shuddered. She closed her eyes, bit down on her lower lip. Her hand clenched, knuckles going white.
Calm down. Calm down. It's only the potion (no it's not- Dumbledore wanted me dead even before the potion!). You're not in any real danger (yes you are, you fool! He's right there!). No, no, you're safe. Dumbledore doesn't know. None of these students will hurt you (won't they? Don't they hold you in contempt, a bookworm among bookworms, a silly little girl?) And Dumbledore won't either, because he doesn't know. You're fine. Breathe in, breathe out. Good. See how nicely your deep breathing exercise is working. In, out.
As she inhaled, her ribcage pressed up against a warm, smooth shape. Her necklace, an ivory key; her Portkey.
Her escape.
For a long moment, Hermione's mind was blank. Then her intellect returned full force. She had a Portkey. She could escape the horrible, stifling, crushing, aching terror that engulfed her; she could flee to the safety of Founder's Isle where she was safe and where no one could ever find her-
"Luna." She didn't speak the words. She squeaked them.
"Yes, Hermione?"
The girl swallowed, a failed attempt to moisten her parched throat. "I need you to do me a favor." Cover me when I run, run, run-
One of the Hufflepuffs bolted towards the door. His comrades yelled at him to return, but he didn't listen. At the Gryffindor Table, Mark spoke rapidly to an older, trembling girl. Among the Slytherins, Daphne whispered to herself with closed eyes. Her fists were clenched, nails digging into her palm.
Penelope looked from the fleeing Hufflepuff to Hermione, who was ready to flee herself. The seventh year gestured at them to come on already and marched out of the hall. The rest of her group followed (though Sadie had to lead John by the hand). They crowded into the nearest classroom, where Penelope grabbed a piece of chalk and began to write.
"What favor did you want, Hermione?" asked Luna. Her voice was so low that the third year, who was less than a foot away, had to strain to hear her.
"Can you hold this for me?" One moist hand slipped beneath her hair and shirt, grabbed the cord which carried her Portkey. She forced herself to extend her arm, to release her escape (what are you doing, you idiot? That's your only way out of here! You will die for this!) into Luna's waiting hands. "I don't want to panic and crush it. It's a gift from my grandmother, you see. An heirloom." Hopefully the watchers in the Great Hall would fall for that. Hopefully Dumbledore would fall for that.
Silvery eyes bulged; nearly fell out of their sockets. The ivory key nearly fell, though Luna caught it at the last second. She looked from the key to the key's owner (who was now afraid for an entirely different reason) and back to the key. Her jaw tightened; her lips twitched. "Okay, Hermione. I'll look after this for you." The girl slipped it into her pocket. Her dreamy expression had returned in less than five seconds; anyone who had not seen her reaction would never have known anything had changed.
Hermione's trembling redoubled, tripled. What was that about? There was no possible way that Luna knew, right? Because the prophecies had been in the Chamber of Secrets for a thousand years, guarded by a basilisk, hidden from the world…
…and known of by the centaurs, the merpeople, the goblins and Fae and veelas and dwarves, all the sentient magical creatures save for wizards and their dead. Magical creatures were the Lovegoods' specialty. So did that mean Luna did know?
The Potion of Panic sensed that this fear, paranoia over exposure, was a better source to exploit than Hermione's fear of Dumbledore. She had already half-talked herself out of that fear anyways; this one was fresh and powerful, deeply rooted in her consciousness, far more difficult to dispel. It latched onto that fear, whispered noxious words into Hermione's mind. How did she know she could trust Luna? She didn't. For all she knew, the younger girl would take her newfound knowledge to Dumbledore, revealing Air's identity and dooming her companions. He would take Saysa and-
No. Luna was her friend. Luna wouldn't betray her- and even if she did, Dumbledore had no reason to believe Loony Lovegood. The thought of that hated nickname made Hermione wince, but she couldn't deny its truth.
Penelope clapped her hands, drawing the girls' attention. The blushing Hermione and serene-as-ever Luna returned their attention to the chalkboard.
WE NEED TO STRATEGIZE BEFORE RUNNING ALL OVER THE SCHOOL. DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY IDEA WHERE SAMUEL MIGHT BE? OR ANY IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO FIND HIM?
Cho stared blankly at the board. Apparently whatever spell she'd been hit with had affected her ability to read.
Of course. The thought penetrated the gray haze of Hermione's panic. He got rid of our ability to communicate. Penelope can't talk, Cho can't read, Luna and I have other things on our minds, John is blind and Sadie is deaf. Not to mention that poor Samuel's been kidnapped. We need to truly act like a team.
Her instincts- no, not her instincts; the Potion of Panic- cried out for her to remain silent and inconspicuous, for what did she really know about these people, anyways? She told the potion to shut up. "I think I know what's going on…."
The others (save for Sadie. Penelope wrote notes on the board for her, but it wasn't quite the same) listened intently as Hermione explained her theory. "It makes sense to me," Luna announced, "but how can we apply it to the task itself?"
Every Ravenclaw gawked at her. "Aren't you supposed to be half-asleep?!" Sadie half-asked, half-yelled. Deafness made it difficult for her to gauge her volume.
"Well, yes, but some of my best ideas have come to me in dreams." Luna smiled. "For instance, I once dreamt of-"
The awful scratching of chalk against a chalkboard interrupted her. SORRY, LUNA, BUT WE HAVE TO FOCUS, Penelope wrote. YOU CAN TELL US LATER, OKAY? BUT FOR NOW WE NEED TO FIND SAMUEL. ANY IDEAS? She underlined the last sentence several times for emphasis.
After much discussion and many discarded ideas ("No, Luna, we're not going to use heffalumps to track him down!"), the six Ravenclaws eventually decided that the best solution was also the simplest. Luna and Sadie trotted to two opposite corners, signaled they were ready. Penelope walked out to the hall, pointed her wand. Her lips moved, though, obviously, no sound came out.
They waited. Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other, gaze glued on Luna. The girl knew all sorts of strange things, and while most of it was nonsense, wasn't it possible that she knew of the prophecies? But if she knew, then who else might? And how could she, Hermione, know if anyone untrustworthy was in the know?
The answer was as simple as it was unsatisfactory: she didn't know, couldn't, in fact. If she wanted more information, she would have to talk with Luna, though how she could do that without raising even more suspicion was beyond her ken at the moment. The Potion of Panic made it rather difficult for her to think rationally.
"I see it!" Sadie bellowed. "It's coming from the left!" As she finished speaking, Samuel's shoelace zoomed down the corridor. Penelope caught it, grinning. She pumped her fist in silent exultation as the Ravenclaws sprinted to the place from which the shoelace had come. They were lucky this time- this hallway ended at the base of a tower. The Divination Tower, if Hermione's mental map was correct. She hadn't taken Divination- unlike Blaise, she was no Seer- but the Smoking Mirror had, and he'd described the classroom (not to mention the barmy professor) often enough.
Penelope gestured furiously at the trapdoor above their heads. She pointed at her throat, mimed speaking, and gesticulated wildly at the ceiling. Sadie was the first to interpret her fellow Ravenclaw's thrashing. "WE'RE HERE!" she screamed.
Hermione nearly leapt out of her skin. Did Sadie have to be so loud? The fool girl had nearly given her a heart attack!
Thoughts of a heart attack made the Potion of Panic's effects return once again. She glanced at Luna. The girl had her Portkey, but she was such a slender thing that it would be easy to overpower her. Grab the key and-
Hermione Jane Granger, you quit that this instant. You will not, I repeat not, behave in such a pathetic and cowardly manner. It's just the potion making you irrational, that's all. That. Is. All.
She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails tore bloody welts in her palm.
The trapdoor opened. The wizards listened (except for John, who couldn't have heard a Mandrake's screams even if it was shrieking into his ear); they could hear the sound of something scraping against the floor. Moments later, a rolled-up ladder dropped to the floor. Grinning triumphantly, the six Ravenclaws ascended.
They found themselves in a stuffy room that reeked of cheap perfume. Hermione was strongly reminded of a stereotypical hippie's house: poufy chairs, beads instead of actual doors, and especially the room's inhabitant. Professor Trelawney was just as Blaise had described her: a slender woman approaching early middle age with enormous eyes that were further magnified by thick glasses. She wore loose robes of some mother-of-pearl fabric that was not at all becoming and several shawls over her shoulders.
Luna skipped forward. "Hi, Aunty," she chirped. "Is Samuel Bell here?"
Aunty? The shock of Luna's words overwhelmed the Potion of Panic. Hermione gawked at the two witches, one so very young, and the other fully-grown. Yes, there was a bit of resemblance in the size of the eyes, the waifish skinniness, the chin and ears.
"Of course he is, Luna, dear," Sybil replied. She patted the girl on the head, ruffling her blond hair. "He's right this- May the Messenger of Truth, the Owl of the Air, beware those who carry her comrades' messages of truth. Fear them, but fear not Fire's bargain- way."
The Ravenclaws goggled at her, not entirely certain what had just happened. All they knew was that her voice had changed in the middle of the sentence, becoming deep and raspy, almost masculine. But now Trelawney was acting like nothing had happened, leading her niece (actually, the Ravenclaws would later learn that Luna was her first cousin once removed, the daughter of Sybil's cousin Xeno. But they didn't know that then) into her personal quarters to collect the sleeping Samuel Bell. "Do come and visit more often, Luna. We hardly ever get time to chat anymore."
"All right, Aunty. Thank you." Luna hugged the older witch round the middle before flouncing back to the trapdoor. "Well, sillies," she laughed, "what are you waiting for? I'm the one who's supposed to be in a waking dream, not you. Come on! If we hurry, we can get back before everybody else and win." She climbed down the ladder, humming all the while.
"Well," John mused, "Professor Dumbledore did say that we'd probably get more points by showing up early."
The others (save Cho, who was still suffering the effects of whatever curse Flitwick had cast upon her, and Luna, who had already disappeared down the trapdoor) shrugged and nodded. Their journey back to the Great Hall was an uneventful one. They did encounter Professor Moody, who smiled approvingly at them for sticking together and getting their teammate. Cho whimpered at the sight of his grin and tried to pull away. Luna just giggled. "Professor, I have a question about our assignment-"
"It can wait," Hermione declared, grabbing her friend's arm. Moody had always given her a vague sense of the willies; now that she was under the Potion of Panic's influence, the former Auror was downright monstrous. And wasn't he a close friend of Albus Dumbledore?
Fortunately, they left before Moody's presence could shatter Hermione's carefully constructed mental defenses. Why had she chosen to take the Potion of Panic instead of something nice and easy? Like John did, for example; he might be blind, but as long as he kept a hand on someone else's shoulder, he was fine. Or Luna- surely dreaminess had to be better than this. Even deluded Cho.
Oh, wait. She'd chosen to do this because she wanted to prove herself to her Housemates, to her friends, to herself. She'd willingly terrified herself just for the sake of her reputation. No wonder the old Sorting Hat had considered putting her in Gryffindor.
True to Luna's predictions, they were the first to arrive back in the Great Hall. Sadie marched over to the Head Table, to the serenely waiting Dumbledore. "We'd like the antidotes now, please," she bellowed.
The headmaster handed over six vials of potion, each color-coded (though that was rather useless for John. Sadie had to help him once again). He followed the young Ravenclaw over to her table and cast a spell at Cho.
Hermione, who had chugged down the antidote lest she faint at the headmaster's presence, felt her breath catch in her throat. She thought back to her Animagus vision, to the owl's message.
Albus Dumbledore had a wand of elder.
Reason returned, retaking the ground which fear had claimed. Hermione's thoughts raced throughout the rest of the task as she and the others awaited the last group (surprisingly, the Hufflepuffs arrived behind the Gryffindors, though only barely). The scores for the task were as follows: Ravenclaw, thirty-three points; Slytherin, twenty-nine; Gryffindor, twenty-six; Hufflepuff, twenty (it had originally been twenty-five. Then Dumbledore had reminded everyone of the five-point reduction and brought down their scores).
Hermione barely noticed the numbers. All she could think of was that she'd been given a clue, a possible key to the riddle she was destined and duty-bound to solve, but she couldn't figure it out for the life of her.
It galled Kreacher to wait, but impatient as he was, even he could see the benefit of waiting until the entire school was distracted before going after the filthy-traitor-to-his-master-and-his-master's-friends-and-the-world-at-large, the rat-man Pettigrew. Fortunately, the Five of Prophecy kept excellent tabs on Hogwarts; they had informed him of the tournament's schedule and had even managed to get ahold of the tentative schedule for Quidditch matches. So, on the day of the Hufflepuff Task, he popped into Gryffindor's dorms.
Master had told him about the dorms' general layout, and Alexander Chamberlain the Prince of Flowers had given him the rat-man's exact location. Hidden beneath Master's Disillusionment Charm (it wasn't as strong as that of Pollux Riddle the Lightning Speaker, the catalyst of destiny), the house-elf ascended the red-carpeted stairs into the third years' dorm.
The rat-man (man-rat?) had taken advantage of the room's emptiness to resume human form. He was engrossed in a schoolbook, unaware of the being staring at him in disgust.
Kreacher sensed that Pettigrew had erected wards, but only alarms for humans. Magical creatures wouldn't trigger any of the traitor's spells.
Good.
Baring his teeth in a terrifying smile, the house-elf pointed. Pettigrew collapsed. A minute later, both were gone.
Take that, you filthy, stinking little rat! Heh heh heh, Sirius won't be pleased with you. *rubs hands together*
I'm now taking suggestions for "Behind and Between," my one-shot series set in this universe; suggestions for the eventual government of the wizarding world, as I have little background with political theory; and suggestions for the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tasks. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated!
-Antares