AN: I'm sorry if this bothers you, but I've changed the point of view. If you don't like it, please contact me through a PM and not a review. I don't know why, but I like writing in third person. It's more comfortable. But what do I know? I'm an amateur. I don't know which is better, so tell me. There may be mistakes I haven't caught. I'm looking for a beta, so PM for that as well.

I hope you don't hate me for changing the story again. Don't worry, this chapter's just in Hermione's point of view. No need to look back. I'm not entirely confident with the change, but please read through this chapter and tell me if you'd like it another way.

Oh, and if you're wondering when the more of the actual Tournament stuff is coming, my answer is "very soon".

Disclaimer: You can wish and wish, but it will never come true. None of us owns Harry Potter. Lovely Joanne K. Rowling does, though, and she's gotten a very shiny penny out of it.


Chapter 7

Georgie took Malfoy's less than friendly greeting to heart, apparently. I could see the hurt in her eyes and tried to make it go away by having small talk. I was never a very good conversation starter…or rather, a conversation controller, because they always end up somewhere I didn't like. Quidditch, for example, is something that always pop up when I'm with Harry or Ron. Ginny and Luna and I have even gossiped about Iya Matsuki, China's best seeker. Yes, I knew what Malfoy was talking about earlier. I don't know about Mexico's team, and I'm not interested. Quidditch is not for me. I just wanted to make that clear.

The conversation I had with Georgie ended, period. She merely led us through the classroom.

Stacks of large cardboard boxes, some taped rather excessively with duct tape and some spilling packing peanuts, stood throughout the otherwise empty room. The floor was in need of being swept and the magic concealing the peeling and cracks in the wall was wearing off. Someone was really in need of help to set up.

There were steps we had to climb, leading to an open door. Professor Isilee's office was clearly well kept and organized, except for a few things.

The beautiful woman from last night looked so wrong bent over on her knees. Her back was towards us as we puzzled over what she was doing.

On the top part of a rolling cart was a computer monitor, the screen blank. On the bottom part was the computer. Isilee was fiddling with something there. I quickly guessed she was trying to set up a rather outdated desktop computer.

Strewn all over the floor were thick instruction manuals and packing materials. Crumpled plastic and used up pieces of tape were carelessly shoved into a loose pile. When I approached I noticed a pair of scissors floating in the air. It snapped at me furiously, jabbing at my eyes and daring to go near my hair.

"Professor?" I asked curiously, after freezing the shears and catching them before they fell.

Isilee gave a startled "Oh!" and whipped around. Even flushed and rattled this woman was gorgeous. Her silky black hair was back in a bun and her glasses almost slipped off the edge of her nose. She was poor attempt to disguise a super model as a school teacher.

"You must be Hermione," she said in a lovely, empathetic voice. I instantly adored this character. She was like Mrs. Weasley, except inhumanely beautiful --- not in an insulting way to Mrs. Weasley, however.

Then Isilee turned to Malfoy and smiled her breathtaking smile, which he was somehow oblivious to. "Draco Malfoy?"

He gave her a small nod.

"Oh, you two have such pretty names," Isilee gushed. "I love that!"

Malfoy's eyebrows raised up at her questioningly. I don't know why I was slightly surprised that he ignored her looks and found she was really weird.

"Do you need help, Professor?" I offered, the briskness in my voice annoyed Malfoy, who didn't enjoy all the liveliness.

"Yes, I do, but not that much. I don't want to drag you into this."

"I have a computer at home," I implied.

"I do too, darling," Isilee said, her tone not matching what she said. "If you really want to help you can start by fixing the walls in my classroom or cleaning the floors…" She reached for the instruction manual. "Hm."

"My friend's dad once had to set up a computer at his house. I helped." I had not only helped with the setting up, I helped put out the fires.

"Okay," Professor consented, gesturing for me to come.

"You've pretty much got everything done correctly," I murmured, glancing back and forth between the computer and the manual. I spotted several errors she made, including ripping off parts not meant to be ripped off. I quickly and inconspicuously fixed these errors. It was amazing how the sockets and wires didn't look so confusing. "You just need the mouse ---"

"Oh, I've got the mouse!" Professor Isilee held up a mouse and got a mouse pad too. "Aren't they cute? Here's a mouse," she shook the computer mouse, "and here's a mouse." Her face was brimming with excitement for the picture of a mouse on the mouse pad. She giggled. Her marble face colored and her jewelry chimed.

"Right," I agreed nervously. "Then you need a phone line for the internet---"

"Oh, I don't! The ministry's connected us wirelessly!" Isilee held up a strange block like object. "It's a wireless adaptator!"

"Adaptor," I corrected, and took it. After sticking it in, I sat up and sighed. "That wasn't so hard."

"It was for me." Isilee said in disagreement. "I was trying to do it all morning. Georgie was right about you. You aresmart."

"Thanks," I said, blushing, "Georgie."

Next to Georgie Malfoy was smirking. I scoffed silently at him. Like he could set up a computer.

"Okay," Isilee said with a sudden burst of energy and a loud clap of her hands, "now for some fun! Hermione, Draco, will you help me with a few renovations?"

"Sure." I said, ignoring Draco's groan.


Professor Isilee told Draco and I about her life with Georgie before coming here.

"Maxime immediately took me for Beauxbatons's Charms teacher. Right after I told her that I was having a hard time with my first jobs she insisted I wasn't spending enough time with 'our kind' and that I drop my dreams of being a filmmaker. At the time, I was struggling with my Georgia Madison Marie," I saw Georgie wince at her long name. Her mother continued, with a tinge of pride in her voice, "I was the one who came up with the name, you know. Anyway, I stayed at Beauxbatons for two years, before I started putting cameras and spotlights in my classes. I thought it would be nice to just show my students a little bit of the muggle world. Everything, and I mean everything, is magical at Beauxbatons. Olympe didn't approve of that. She gave me one more chance, but one of the students I had upset --- I filmed her and showed footage of her falling on her face to the class --- went complaining to her parents and they complained to Olympe, then the other students' parents began complaining…" She sighed woefully. I could almost feel her pain. I didn't even know why. I had never gone through anything quite like what she did. But I knew sadness was also dawning on my face, and that Malfoy was watching me and I didn't want to think about what he thought. I shouldn't. And yet, I was so self conscious right now.

"I quit before she got a chance to fire me," she said quietly, gently polishing the glass of a portrait with her hand. It was about the size of an average piece of paper. The frame didn't look old and the picture wasn't aged either. It had a glossy surface and rich color, like that of a page from a magazine. "I took Georgie back to Paris and we lived with my sister for a while. I found a job in no time, as a muggle model. I enjoyed it, actually. Very, very much." She smiled to herself. "Catwalks were fun and the clothes were fantastic, if not bizarre, unconventional… I got to keep most of the things I was put in," she eyed a large closet that looked quite heavy. I wouldn't know for sure. Malfoy was the one who moved it, by levitating. "I made about two thousand a day! I never even had to use magic! Georgie and I were living the good life in a great condominium, and I never had trouble finding things to do on Saturday nights… Scratch that last part."

I smiled reassuringly at her. That bit was completely understandable. She's young, she's pretty, she's rich. Her husband has got to be the most idiotic fool in the world.

"And yet," she continued, "something was missing. Something very big. There was a huge hole in me that was never filled. I wasn't broken. Just incomplete. And no, it was not because my husband left me. His departure was actually an improvement…" I heard Malfoy snicker from across the room. He was straightening the desks and I was wiping the windows with Isilee. Georgie was fluffing heavy dust out of some old curtains, sending dust bunnies and dead doxies dancing across the floor.

"I really liked cameras. Modeling in front of them was the best. Most don't know how exhilarating being photographed is." I could easily disagree with that. There is nothing worse than wizard paparazzi. Thank Merlin Remus got Harry and I restraining orders for the snoopy Rita Skeeter. Ron, on the other hand, still has the occasional reporter knocking on his door, but he's got Mrs. Weasley.

I crept behind Isilee to see the portrait. Her long, delicate fingers, white as snow, slid off the glass when she noticed me.

It was a picture of her. I immediately recognized the flawless porcelain face, her black eyes staring lazily away from the camera. She resembled all the other supermodels, slim, graceful, and solemn. Her dress was also white, flowing freely. The neckline was so low the dress seemed to slip off her. But the picture was still, a muggle picture. The lighting was pale to match the subject and the backdrop was plain black. The few witch fashion magazines now had moving scenery backdrops and bright lighting. Ginny subscribed to all the witch magazines in Britain and tacked photos on her wall, that's how I know.

Though, the picture could pass for a magical one. It was so perfect. It reminded me of veela. If it weren't for Isilee's shiny black curls, she would look exactly like one of the dancing veela I saw at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Wow," was all I could say. Could the lady next to me really be that same one in the picture? She is a teacher after all.

She laughed. "Thanks." In the next second she was gone. I barely got to blink my eyes a twice before she was back. "I hope I don't seem boast-y, but," she pushed a thick photo album at me. I was surprised at the weight. I almost hit the floor when she handed it to me. I looked up at her feebly. She shrugged, making me feel more guilty for underestimating her so much.

I struggled to keep silent as I turned the pages. Each picture was a powerful strike at my eyeballs and an even more powerful one at my self-consciousness.

Isilee continued in a happier tone. "I even landed some small movie roles!" Oddly, this took me by surprise as well. Maybe it isn't so impossible that this woman could do anything. "But, like I said before, I was incomplete. My life continued uneventfully. But then," she stopped for dramatic effect, "news of a Muggle Studies teacher totally hit me like a bomb. It was then when I had my epiphany, when I knew what I had to do.

"Albus Dumbledore is the kindest man ever," she sighed, "He approved of my great teaching plan! He approved of it! I nearly died when he told me it was one of the most clever teaching strategies he'd ever heard of. It was perfect for my subject. And Minerva even found it good! The other teachers thought I was crazy, but not Dumbledore. He said he saw something in me. Something big." She sighed again. "My dear, I will create a great masterpiece that will go down in history. This year I will be making my first movie."

She's crazy, was the first thing that came to my mind. A voice in my head screamed, "Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!" But I refused to insult such a creature in such a way. No no no, there is nothing wrong with her. She just needs a little help. I had heard of the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. I had heard how bad the ridicule is in the movie world. I couldn't let anything nearly as terrible happen to Professor Isilee. She had already gotten me to see her as a good friend! I can't let her hurt herself.

"Er…Professor?" What could I do? She looks so firm on her idea. Look at her face, it's glowing.

"Oh no," Isilee pleaded. Inside I winced at her sad expression. I thought she knew I didn't like her movie dream, but she said something unrelated to that. "I don't like Professor." Why are people are so concerned about what people call them? "My name is Jolene. Call me Jolene."

"Right. Jolene," I paused, beginning to play with my fingers, "a-are you sure?"

"Of course I am! No offense to the other teachers, but I think thirty is a little young for 'professor'."

"You're thirty?" I asked loudly, incredulous. I thought she was somewhere closer to twenty. "Never mind, that's not what I meant. Are you sure about the movie thing? I mean, I heard it's pretty tough to make movies."

"Yes. Don't be silly. I'm not going to be too serious with it. I'll get better through the years. Perhaps I will just start with documentaries, then move on to scripts. Don't worry. I know you're worrying." She pointed to my face. "Worry isn't right for your face, Hermione. It isn't right for anyone's. Please trust me? I know I don't look like a hard worker, but I am. And I have been for some time. So, you aren't stopping me from doing something I've been waiting for, needed, for so many years. But I don't want you to feel different about me. We are friends, right?"

"Right," I uttered nervously.

"And you?" she said to Draco.

I watched his still expression. He nodded so slightly it didn't look like a nod. This worried me, but Jolene found it positive.

"Good," she said firmly, "then you should side with me on this one, in this dispute with most of the wizarding word. I tell you, not many see what I see. Not many agree with the statement I have."

I wasn't supposed to feel sorry for her, but I did. She's in over her head. I turned my head expectantly towards Malfoy, with growing fear that he might make a rude comment, despite the fact that he promised not to speak. He was an emotionless stone again.

There was an uncomfortable silence, getting longer, tensing. I really wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say. Talking might have been a bad thing to do. Then, Jolene spoke.

"I have to take care of some things." Her voice was happy again. "My favorite color is purple and I don't like Power Rangers. But I am fond of Japanese cartoons and Broadway. And I used to have a dog named Cheerio, but he died. There, now you know everything I think you need to know. I loved having you two here. Suppose you could stop by for tea tomorrow? No. Classes start tomorrow. That means I have to get to work. You can stay here and finish if you want, but I don't want to ruin your day. I'm sure you have friends to play with."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Jolene smiled. Georgie followed her out into her office, leaving me and Malfoy alone to fix up the rest of the classroom.


I was sweeping the little bits of Styrofoam across the floor, humming to myself. My mind had wandered away from my work.

I saw myself riding in a long, silent limousine. I was daintily putting a glass of champagne to my lips while a man less elegantly dressed than me babbled endlessly. He had a pocket organizer in one hand and a stinking cigarette in the other. He looked like an overworked rich person's assistant with sweat on his brow, a short, graying beard, and shiny black sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes.

"Then on the Tuesday after the photo shoot you have a conference to go to. Just some lecture I suppose, and it's in Japan. Hon, you think I should cancel it?"

I didn't answer that question. I gazed at a stretching crowd of fans lined up behind metal barristers, screaming and waving huge banners. My face was kept still and expressionless. I didn't want to ruin the makeup that took hours to apply or the outstanding hair, now dyed black from her most recent project. I passed a billboard with a head shot of a woman with the pitch hair and a god-like man facing her, their lips barely touching. The photo had been retouched, adding a lusting twinkle to her eyes and the man's. Only her name and the movie's title were on the advertisement. "Hermione Granger," escaped my lips.

"'Mione? Hermione, hon, the conference?"

I gave a short, small gasp before turning to smile at my assistant. I knew I looked beautiful. I mirrored Professor Isilee. Jolene as I was asked to call her. The movie I starred in at school launched my career.

I imagined more about myself. Then I became less like myself and in my mind's eye was a whole other girl.

She revolutionized the entire wizarding word. Films were in and it was all her doing. She was revered as the first lady of wizard showbiz, causing an eruption of fan frenzies and sending millions of galleons to my account. She was even more rich and famous than a certain hero from her past. Now either she was the hero or a god was, saving her, loving her, all on a big cinema screen.

Her assistant had put something into his organizer and handed her something she "might like to see."

It was an issue of the Daily Prophet. She was the main subject of a huge black and white picture on the front. First Lady: Hermione, Strikes Again the big font read. Then, the picture of her was replaced by the title of her movie, then switched back to her, her animated face laughing. Below the picture was a two-page long article full of praise and gossip and, as usual, a summary of how she rose up to her skyscraping status. Quiet, brainy Hermione Granger stars in first wizard film, directed by the universally acclaimed Jolene Isilee, and begins the movie film era in the wizarding world.

She had become so famous her last name was no longer used. Hermione recently finished filming the five-star rated film…

"Oh, Hermione, darling! You've been nominated for another award! Best Actress in a Romantic Drama. Amazing, Hermione!"

"Hermione!" a voice shouted in my ear.

I snapped back into the real world, the world where I was not an actress. Why on Earth was I thinking that anyway? Jolene is still crazy, however hard it is for me to say it. I lost my grip on the broom and it landed with a thwack on the shiny floor.

Malfoy was right up at my ear, his hand on my shoulder. That certainly felt strange. It was supposed to be cold, just like his heart. "Granger, drop your stupid fantasies, okay? Isilee's a madwoman and there will never be a movie film revolution in our world."

I felt my cheeks grow hot and my hands somehow got a hold of the one on my shoulder. He quickly took it back.

"What is wrong with you?" he fumed. He flicked his wand at the broom and the dustpan, charming them to clean on their own.

"Professor Isilee said no magic in her classroom!"

"Listen to yourself, Granger." Malfoy was repulsed. "First Lady," he scoffed.

"W-Well, I ---" I stammered. Then terrifying realization swept through like a huge tidal wave. "How did you know that?"

He chuckled and took a seat on one of the desks. We had completely arranged the room to look like a classroom and not a neglected storeroom. "You may be a wandless witch, but I am an accomplished Legilimens."

"You were reading my mind?!"

"Well, what else was I supposed to do? I finished doing my part with magic, since being in a Muggle Studies classroom does not automatically make you a muggle, if you didn't know that yet."

"You are invading my privacy!"

"Granger---"

"Granger. A second ago you called me Hermione."

"Well, that was the last name I heard," Draco snickered.

"Oh," I muttered angrily. The most sinister and legal spell I could think of came to my mind and…

Immediately Draco pointed his wand at me. He was up, stiff, and glaring. His blue eyes were smoldering ice --- if that wasere even possible. I could feel myself getting paralyzed like a snarling predator's prey. That was what Malfoy could have been --- a snarling predator --- but he wasn't snarling. His lips were tight in a thin line, until, "Your talent is useless."

"Stop that!" I huffed, balling my hands in fists from frustration.

"Interesting, Granger," a new voice said from behind me.

Professor Snape had come into the classroom unnoticed. His thin mouth was twitched up at one end in a mean smirk. No doubt there was another on Draco's face.

"I presume Potter has taught you one of my very own spells?"

I was speechless, eyes wide in shock at the sulky looking, greasy-haired Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of mine. Part of her wondered what he was doing here. Another hoped he wouldn't deduct house points.

He left swiftly and without a word. He did give Malfoy a look I didn't understand, but other than that, his visit was fortunately short, but terribly meaningful. I would be worrying about the two Slytherin monarchs invading my head until the day I died.

Malfoy laughed.

"Malfoy, you are impossible."

"Yes, and it also seems everyone sees Snape and I as royalty. How nice."

"Yes, you're the Slytherin Prince of Bleeding Bugger Bums and he's the King of Sadistic Sacks of---"

"Language, Granger," Draco reproached teasingly. "Besides, we're both considered princes and neither of us'll ever be a king."

"Do you think I care?!"

"I do. And our Kings happen to be dead."

"Kings?"

"Yep, but we can't speak of them. I'll assure you, though, that the two you have in mind are not even close."

"Impossible."

"You seem to think a lot of things are impossible. I'm impossible,they're impossible,that's impossible."

"Get out of my head, Malfoy," I hissed.

"No. This is fun." He laughed.

Frustrated, I stormed into Professor Isilee's office, hoping he couldn't hear me.

But then I bumped into Snape. I was washed through entirely with anger, but couldn't help notice something different about this Snape. Five minutes ago he was the same old Snape, but now I knew something changed. What was it?

I had seen it on other's faces before, but the calculating part of my mind automatically rejected one of my theories. This was Snape. Was there something I had missed? Something that would make him appear like this?

I grew even more baffled as I watched it intensify. I was fully stricken when it suddenly vanished.

"Yes?" he asked calmly. He forgot something, I noticed. What happened to the venom?

"Unless you have anything in need, I'll be leaving with five points for wasting a teacher's time."

Without an answer he left. I stood on the spot, perplexed and humiliated. Had I forgotten so soon?

And then I was fearful of the amount of time they had been using their talents. I would have to report this to Harry. I had to complain to Dumbledore. Legilimency should not be used in school, not unless Occlumency was taught. My own Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was expressing a subject of the Dark Arts! And he even had a little sidekick.

Sectumsemprawas being reconsidered, but the urge to curse Malfoy left when Jolene came strolling in. She had come through another door, with Georgie behind as usual.

"Hello, Hermione," Jolene greeted, waving at me though she was only a foot away. I waved back. Georgie waved. I waved again. Instinct, I guess.

"Do you need anything?" Georgie asked.

"Umm. No." I just needed to get away from a certain ferret who was reading my mind so I wouldn't totally slash him open.

"It's almost noon. Almost time for lunch." I noticed she had changed from her comfy looking clothes to a bright outfit similar to the one she wore yesterday.

"We're going to the Great Hall, would you like to join us?" Jolene asked. She changed as well. She wore a stylish and decent-looking orange dress that reached past her knees. She had brown leather boots on her feet, an long orange ribbon tied loosely around her hair, and many wooden beads and charms around her long neck and wrists. She didn't have make-up, it wasn't like she needed it anyway. She changed into clothing more matching to the season. Earlier she had pajamas under her robes and glasses hanging on the bridge of her nose.

"Yes," I said. I really had to stop thinking about how Jolene looked. I didn't want to end up a hairy green monster. It was also unhealthy.

Malfoy was nowhere to be found when we went into the classroom. We all shrugged it off and exited the room.

Jolene was the one to start the conversation. Georgie was the one who continued it. I followed, nodding and smiling, but not talking.

"…But I mean, Gaspard Finite has been a seeker since his years in Beauxbatons, and now he wants to be a beater? That doesn't make sense, Ma." Ugh, more Quidditch.

"It shouldn't matter much now. He is going to retire soon. They've already found a seeker to replace him."

"Really? Who?"

"He's a nobody, really. Since Gaspard's alternate is retiring as well, two new players were found. For the roles of seeker there will be two brothers ---"

She was cut off when someone came yelling down the halls towards us. "It's been changed!" the little boy cried excitedly. "It's been changed!"


AN: It's been changed! It's been changed!