A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four

Chapter Twelve: The Goblet of Disaster

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I'm pretty sure I'd be murdered for inconsistant updating.

Things were different in the castle, as Halloween drew ever closer. There was the usual excitement for the fabulous feast, of course, and Hermione was leading that group with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

The weeks leading up had been rather odd, an omen of things to come, but the thrill of knowing that the tops students of two other wizarding schools showing up was easily enough to put the omens out of the minds of those prone to investigating them.

"Bloody brilliant." Harry and Ron were practically beaming as they strolled out of the potions dungeon exactly half an hour before the end of regular class times on Friday. Hermione, meanwhile, watched from her desk as the entire class spilled out into the hall, babbling excitedly about the evening ahead, and Dumbledore's kindness at letting the entire school out of class early.

When the class was finally empty, she slipped off her stool and made her way up to her father's desk, where he was scribbling away on an essay scroll handed in by one of his younger students – a bright little first year that thought Wolfsbane was to poison werewolves. She chuckled as her father crossed out several paragraphs.

"What do you need, Hermione?" Severus asked with a sigh, trying to resist the urge to tear the essay in his hands to shreds. "I wanted to talk to you, before we have to go to dinner. About Professor Moody." Severus dropped the scroll and looked up sharply, wary of having this particular conversation. "What about Professor Moody do you wish to discuss?"

Hermione checked over her shoulder before leaning in just a little closer so she could drop her voice, "He's been acting really odd in class. Did you know he used the imperious on us?" This had been bugging her for the last week, it seemed impossible to her that Dumbledore had actually been aware of that particular lesson plan.

Severus flinched slightly, but feigned disinterest, "I trust you passed that class with flying colours." He hadn't been pleased when he'd been told by Dumbledore that this had been included in the lesson plan, but despite his own shortcomings with the idea, he could understand the necessity. Even if it had been strictly for Harry Potter's benefit.

Hermione gaped at her father for a moment before colouring with anger. "Is that all you can say about it?" She was blown away; her overly protective father didn't even seem to care that the 'lesson' had occurred. It was like he felt it was normal – maybe even beneficial – that fourteen and fifteen year olds had been subjected to one of the most evil curses.

With great effort he kept himself from wavering under his daughter's glare, offering no more than a raised eyebrow, and a slightly snide "I expect you to keep top grades in Professor Moody's class – and all the rest as well. No more picking and choosing when to attend like a child." He couldn't of course mention his concerns on the matter, although he was left with a sour feeling in his gut as Hermione spun on her heels and stormed out of the classroom without a backwards glance at him.

Groaning, Severus leaned over his desk, elbows propped on the smooth surface and his hands covered his face. He felt haggard and tired, and quite frankly disgusted with himself. Up until this year, he had disclosed his concerns, albeit not entirely, to his daughter, and not pushed her for attendance or grades as she was impeccable on both accounts – forgiving the times when he caused her great upsets and she would hide out for a class here or there, always turning up with homework completed in full. He had absolute faith in her ability to keep good grades; he just couldn't afford for her to slip up this year in particular. There was too much he was afraid of.

Dinner was, by far, more rambunctious that night. Shortly after leaving her father's office, Hermione had made her way down to the front doors of the school where Harry and Ron had already gathered with their peers, to watch the arrival of both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students.

Two overly showy entrances later – one involving a giant flying carriage and the other a sunken pirate ship emerging from the lake – everyone had filed into the great hall for the Halloween feast and Dumbledore gave what Hermione was sure was a lovely welcoming speech.

She couldn't be certain of course, because she hadn't really felt up to listening, still brooding slightly over the callous conversation with her father.

"Can you believe it's really Krum? I knew he was young, but I had thought he'd finished school!" Ron gushed over his heaping plate of mashed potatoes and roast beef; eyes firmly locked on the Slytherin table where the Durmstrang students had taken seats.

Harry snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice and shook his head slightly, "Ron, calm down, I'm sure you'll get more chances to see him – he's here for the tournament after all."

The boys antics put a small smile on Hermione's lips and she sighed. She couldn't waste all her time moping about, just because her father had a snit, she should be paying attention to the upcoming tournament, and the new foreign students she could meet and befriend. Maybe.

"I do actually hope we'll get a chance to meet them, all of them." She said calmly as she reached out to fill her plate with a helping of roasted carrots and potatoes.

Shortly after the desserts were cleared from the many tables, Dumbledore stood gracefully from his chair, and made his way around the staff table to stand beside a grandeur chest.

"Now that we have all been properly fed," his voice flowed through the hall bringing it to silence, "I have a few words to share with you." He placed his left hand against the chest and spared it a glance, "In a few moments, I will open the chest and have the Goblet of Fire placed in the entrance hall. However, I must inform you all right now; no one under the age of seventeen will be permitted to submit their names into the goblet."

There was a roar of outrage among the students, and though Hermione kept her disappointment to herself, she wanted to join her classmates in their protest. Here she was, fifteen, and probably more advanced than most of the seventh years, and she had lost her chance before she even had it.

"Quiet!" Dumbledore's voice cut through the crowd and silence was once more restored to the great hall. "This new rule has been put in place to protect you. The tasks that the champions will face in this tournament are vicious and dangerous. A number of young witches and wizards have lost their lives in the past, because they were too young and under trained." His icy blue eyes flickered over to the Gryffindor table momentarily, settling particularly on Harry. "No one under the age of seventeen will be permitted to submit their name."

The common room was all abuzz with the excitement of the tournament now being underway. Each of the seventh years, and a few sixth years, had already submitted their names, including Fred and George – whom had not been of age, nor able to fool Dumbledore's age line with their aging potion, ad were now both in the hospital wing.

"I wish we could enter," Ron mumbled, slouched down low in a cushy arm chair near a window. "Could have been famous if I'd won – and rich."

Harry snorted as he leaned over a scroll essay that was due in a few days, "Fame isn't all that great," he grumbled. "Nor is wealth," Hermione added, not looking up from her Arithmancy book.

"Easy for you lot to say," Ron grouched, "you've never been poor like I am. You haven't had to wear hand me downs from five older brothers." He picked at the slightly frayed edge of his sleeve, sneering in distaste as a thread pulled out.

Hermione rolled her eyes behind her book, "Honestly Ron, you do recall I grew up in a muggle household with five siblings, don't you? I know exactly where you're coming from, and I'm still telling you money isn't all it's cracked up to be." She didn't have to look to know the red haired boy was glaring at her fiercely, but she wasn't expecting the balled up piece of parchment that hit her in the face.

"Hey!" She dropped her book in her lap and shot Ron a glare of her own, "Don't you throw things at me, you ass." She snapped her book shut and got to her feet as Ron merely rolled his eyes at her scolding. "I don't have to sit here and pander to your ego, you know. I'm going to work in my room, and you can forget my helping you with your potions essay!"

Harry and Ron watched her storm up the stairs to her dorm and Harry sighed. "Look, Ron, we were both just trying to make you feel better." Green eyes met scowling blue, "Don't push her away now, she needs us as much as we need her."

Ron's lips pulled back in a slight sneer, his foul mood settling in further, "Like I need a death eater for a friend." He kept his voice too low to be over heard, something for which Harry was most grateful. "Ron!" He hissed, leaning in as close as he could get, and dropping his voice, "Hermione is not a death eater. And you know it."

This was a discussion they had had before, in private, after the world cup. When Hermione had showed them her arm, and explained her fit in the forest clearing. Harry, for one, believed her to have told the truth, knowing what little he did about her mother. But Ron had been uneasy ever since that night; he had, of course, grown up knowing the significance of the mark and those who bore it, and his fears and beliefs were carved too deeply to be shifted in a night.

Harry just found himself wishing the red head wasn't quite so stubborn, as he was growing weary of the two-faced behaviour.

Hermione sat perched high in the shadows on her broom, hovering over the entrance hall, just staring at the Goblet of Fire in longing. In private she had allowed herself to dream of the glory and respect that would await the winner of the tri-wizard cup. She wondered what it would be like, to walk the halls of the castle and be cheered on by her fellow students, to be looked up to instead of being looked down on.

The great hall was silent as a graveyard as Dumbledore set the Goblet of Fire on the staff table, with Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman standing off to the side, and Percy standing even further back, clutching a quill and parchment eagerly awaiting orders from his boss.

"It is nearly time for the names to be drawn from the Goblet," Dumbledore motioned to a door behind the staff table briefly, "I ask that once your name has been drawn, you go through this door and wait. Once all three champions have been selected, myself and the judges will brief the champions on their first instructions."

The Goblet of fire let out a soft hissing sound, and Dumbledore lowered the flickering candle light around the room as the bright blue flames flashed red. A scorched piece of parchment shot up into the air like a firework and drifted down gently.

Everyone in the room drew their breath in expectantly as the headmaster reached up and plucked the scorched parchment out of the air.

"Our first champion is from Durmstrang; Viktor Krum!"

Applause stormed through the hall as the tall, yet stocky, Bulgarian teen stood from the Slytherin table and made his way to the staff table. "No surprise there," Ron cheered, nudging both Harry and Hermione before letting out a whistle.

As the applause pattered out, the goblet flickered red once more and a second piece of parchment flew into the air.

"The champion for Beauxbatons; Fleur Delacour!"

Another round of cheers and applause tore through the great hall as the Beauxbatons delegate rose to her feet with a practice grace and practically floated past the staff table and through the door to the next chamber.

The hall fell into complete silence as the flames changed colour once again, spitting out the third and final piece of parchment that held the name of the Hogwarts champion.

"The champion for Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory!"

Hermione almost could have laughed at the look of disgust that crossed the faces of nearly everyone seated at the Gryffindor table. It certainly seemed as though no one had forgiven Cedric for winning the Quidditch match the year prior, when the Dementors had shown their faces.

It was several moments after the strapping Hufflepuff boy had vanished into the next chamber before the cheering in the hall died out completely. Dumbledore had turned to the goblet, ready to seal it up once more, when it exploded with a fourth burst of red flames – brighter and higher than before.

A badly scorched and slightly torn piece of parchment drifted down, landing on the shocked headmaster's hand.

Every pair of eyes in the room fell onto the seemingly innocent piece of paper, no one quite sure what was going on.

Dumbledore shakily picked it up off the back of his outstretched hand and gazed at the name, all the colour draining from his face as he did. This could not be. It was utterly impossible. "Harry Potter."

At the Gryffindor table, Harry was speechless. He could feel the heated glare coming from his best friend, as well as most of the hall. He felt stupid, as he stood with prompting from the nearly frantic headmaster, for believing for even a minute that he could have been safe from falling into the deadly contest.

"Quickly Harry, into the next chamber." Dumbledore ushered him along as the headmasters from the other schools, Karkaroff and Madam Maxime, as well as Professor Snape and McGonagall, stood from their seats and rushed into the next chamber.

End chapter.

So, I know there's no excuse for goign so long without posting, but I am working on it, I promise. This is the hard part over and done; I was having trouble building up to the names being drawn. Seing as I'm now fourteen chapters into my own story and only half way through the book. But I will be able to have another chapter out this week.

Ah, good thing I re-read this before posting - almost gave you all the wrong conversation between Hermione and Severus. Would have seemed very odd, since I make numerous references to his attitude problem and the other conversation has none. But it has been fixed. Anywho...Hope this chapter didn't suck too bad. Next chapter is going to be a bit of a time skip.

Chao.