A few weeks later Hermione made her way into the Great Hall, where everyone was gathering to hear who the TriWizard Champions would be.
Flickering shadows were being cast across the eagerly waiting masses, as the only light came from the bright blue flame of the Goblet of Fire standing at the front of the hall. Professor Dumbledore made his way to stand before the flaming goblet once everyone was in their seats, and promptly called the hall to order. Hermione had taken a seat just behind Harry and Ron, where she could join in the whispered conversations with them, as well as her dorm-mates.
The atmosphere of the hall changed as Dumbledore finished his short speech and turned to face the Goblet of Fire; its flames pulsing and growing. There were quiet yet amazed sounds around the hall as, moments later, the flames turned a brilliant red and threw a smoking piece of delicately folded parchment high into the hall. Every face watched with rapt attention as the parchment arched through the air, and into the outstretched hand of the Hogwarts Headmaster.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," he called while looking at the name, "is Fleur Delacour!"
Enthusiastic applause sounded from the few other Beauxbatons girls in attendance, as a blonde girl stepped forth with pride and was shown into a side room.
Over the next few minutes, the Goblet's flame turned red twice more, with cheers and applause sounding around the hall, as Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory were announced as the Durmstrang, and Hogwarts Champions respectively.
Once the Champions had made their way from the hall, Dumbledore started to close the proceedings but was was pulled up mid-sentence by a gasp from the faculty table. Hermione looked up to see the flames turned red once more, as the entire hall once again descended into silence. A moment later the Goblet's flame pulsed as it had before sending a fourth scrap of parchment bursting forth into the air, to be caught in the hands of the astonished Headmaster.
"Harry Potter?" Dumbledore murmured as he read from the tiny note in his hand.
The were no grand cheers for the apparent fourth Champion, the hall remained mostly silent, with only whispers and disapproval to be heard. Hermione's jaw dropped as she looked at the boy in front of her, trying to get her head around what she was hearing.
"HARRY POTTER!" Dumbledore yelled in what could have been outrage a few seconds later.
Hermione roughly shoved Harry out of his seat as she muttered, "go on then, bloody cheat." Her mind reeling, she didn't pay much notice as he walked over to the Headmaster. A few students had called out the same things she was thinking, while the Durmstrang Headmaster looked utterly furious.
Standing up and quietly making her way out of the hall, Hermione didn't stay to see what happened next. Instead she kept clear of everyone by going directly to her dorm and pulling the curtains closed around her bed. She spent the night just thinking quietly to herself, and soon drifted off to sleep, in spite of her outrage at the antics of the boy she thought she knew.
She hardly spoke to the boys after that, and part of her was glad when - aside from an unsuccessful foray into the library - they didn't show any great inclination to speak with her either. Some nights though, as she lay in bed enjoying the quiet of the night, she couldn't help the little voice in the back of her head that was upset that they weren't trying harder. After all, hadn't they been friends for over three years now?
But as time passed and they continued to ignore her, she found herself becoming less and less interested in making up with them. Apparently they weren't such good friends as she had once thought they were. But what did she really expect? Harry had always been somewhat apathetic about anything that didn't bring him more fame. That's why he'd gone after the TriWizard Cup after all; and he was getting it. Hermione had seen the constant articles in the Daily Prophet, not that she'd been interested enough to read any of them.
When she wanted company, Hermione spent time with her dorm-mates; though she found herself easily tiring of Lavender and Parvati's inane babbling about divination. So for the most part she stayed in the library. Reading and studying had always filled a great deal of her time anyway, and now she was free to do as much as she pleased; other than trips to the owlery and classes of course.
Hermione took the opportunity to visit Hogsmeade when the next weekend trip came up. She chatted with Neville, Lavender, and others on the way there, even joining them for a butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks. But once she'd finished she excused herself to wander about a bit on her own; first doing the expected visit to Honeydukes, before ducking down a side alley.
She stepped into the small shop which only showed to those with an appointment and quickly drew her wand. A grubby little man that barely reached her shoulders in height stood before her in an old overly-patched robe, wand raised as he watched her carefully. When a minute or two had passed he nodded, seeming satisfied with something, and slowly lowered his wand.
"Unusual order you placed Miss Granger, not the kind of thing we'd normally bother with," he growled at her under his breath.
"Sometimes its the simple things that are hardest to hide Mr Burke." She answered him in a quiet but firm voice.
He hummed out some kind of growled agreement, and reached under the counter to pull out a dusty old sack; all without taking his eyes off her. "Five Unseen Urns," he told her, "just as you asked. Clean crystal that'll let any spell through. Can store what you like in 'em, no one'll know they're even there if you don't want 'em to."
"Perfect," she responded with a faint smile.
She left the little shop soon after, her purchases tucked safely inside the Honeydukes paper bag. After a quick look through Tomes and Scrolls Hermione caught up with the others again, and the small group made their way back to Hogwarts.
The first task of the Tournament soon arrived, but Hermione had little interest in it. Breakfast was full of loud conversations about the upcoming task, as everyone talked of guesses and wild rumours on what it would be. She did her best to seem interested, and it wasn't hard with everyone talking at once to simply smile at times and twist her head about as discussions flew about in all directions.
Hermione seemed to get lost in the crowd as everyone made their way out, though she didn't follow them. Instead she decided to take advantage of the unusually quiet castle to practice some of what she'd read. With most of the school - students and professors alike - out at the arena, Hermione wandered off to find a quiet area where she could be sure to be left alone.
Sneaking into an unused classroom, she quickly locked the door, and cast a silencing charm on the room. After wiping the dust off the rickety old desk, Hermione set her bag down and began pulling her supplies from it. Arranging the now occupied Unseen Urns and her Advanced Spellcraft book, so that she could clearly see each when standing a little way back from the desk, she set about practicing the spells she'd memorised over the summer.
No one else came anywhere near the room while she was in there, but even if they had, no one would have believed their eyes had they seen Hermione Granger in that room that day.
As the weeks flew past, Hermione continued to spend most of her time reading in the library. She did take breaks for meals in the Great Hall though, where she sat with her dorm-mates. Her friendship with Harry and Ron had apparently fizzled out to nothing, and though Lavender and Parvati had asked about them a few times, Hermione was content to leave it be.
It was during one of her evenings in the library that she received an unexpected visitor. She was surrounded by several stacks of books as usual when she heard a throat clearing to her side. Looking up she found herself looking into the deep dark eyes of none other than Durmstrang's own Viktor Krum.
"Miss Granger," he greeted her with a faint nod in his thickly accented English. "I hope I am not interrupting."
"Not at all," she answered him with a slight shake of her head. A small smile ghosting her lips as she sat up straighter. "Is there something I can help you with?"
He seemed to pause a moment, and Hermione realised he was nervous; though it hardly showed beyond the slight shifting of his weight from one foot to the other.
"Well," he continued, "I was wondering if you would allow me the honour of escorting you to the Yule Ball?"
Hermione blinked, her mind blanking at the completely unexpected question.
When a minute - or two? - had passed, he cleared his throat again, before taking a step back. "I am sorry," he murmured, "of course you have already been asked."
She reached out to touch his arm as he turned to leave, "No! No, I'm sorry," burst out of her, before she took a breath and went on to explain, "you just caught me off guard. That's all. I'd be delighted Mr Krum," she answered somewhat formally, as a faint blush filled her cheeks.
A small but pleased smile pulled at one side of his face as he took her still outstretched hand. "Then thankyou, I shall meet you at the foot of the stairs before the Great Hall, two weeks from today. And call me Viktor, please." He bowed slightly as he spoke.
"Then call me Hermione," she fluttered, "and I shall see you there."
With a final nod, and a click of his heels, he turned and left her to her reading.
Not that she managed to do any for quite some time.