Coincidentally, Hermione wasn't the only one who learned about past court hearings. Harry got to "see" the hearings through something called a Pensieve in Dumbledore's office. The Pensieve allowed a witch or wizard to view another person's, or their own, extracted memories.
The uncanny coincidence wasn't what set off Hermione's shock, though; Harry had been in Dumbledore's office because he had, for once, been asking for help. During Divination, Harry had had a troubling dream about He Who Must Not Be Named, and had woken up with his scar hurting. Instead of being a stubborn arse, Harry had actually let the headmaster know.
Hermione knew that she shouldn't make a big deal of Harry doing the right thing for once, so she sat with her mouth shut as Harry recounted the trials, which she had already learned about from Sophie's magic book. Harry had more to say about them since he was able to see what happened, and had heard the emotions behind the transcripts she had read. After he was done with retelling what he'd seen to Hermione and Ron, they sat in silence, taking it all in.
"Dumbledore reckons You Know Who's getting stronger again as well?" Ron whispered. He stared into the Gryffindor Common Room fire. "And he trusts Snape? He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?"
Hermione ignored the talk about Snape. She knew as soon as she had read that part that the boys would focus on that part and nothing else. No, the real story was about the Crouch family and Ludo Bagman. Suddenly, she had a thought.
"Rita Skeeter," she muttered.
"How can you be worrying about her now?" said Ron.
"I'm not worrying about her," Hermione said. "I'm just thinking… remember what she said to me in the Three Broomsticks? 'I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl.' This is what she meant, isn't it? She reported his trial. She knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters. And Winky, too, remember? 'Mr Bagman is a bad wizard.' Mr Crouch would have been furious he got off. He would have talked about it at home."
"Yeah, but Bagman didn't pass information on purpose, did he?"
Hermione shrugged, still thinking hard.
"And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?" Ron said, turning back to Harry.
That had been the first part of Harry's story. When he went to speak with Dumbledore, he accidentally overheard a meeting between the headmaster, Cornelius Fudge (The Minister of Magic), and Professor Moody. They were talking about both Mr Crouch's and Bertha Jorkin's disappearances.
"Yeah," said Harry, "but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage."
"We never thought of her, did we?" said Ron slowly. "Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it –"
"Of course she doesn't," said Hermione sharply, looking up. "Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her just because she's part giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I'd probably say I had big bones if I knew that's what I'd get for telling the truth."
Hermione looked at her watch. "We haven't done any practising!" she said, looking shocked. "We were going to do the Impediment Jinx! We'll have to really get down to it tomorrow! Come on, Harry, you need to get some sleep."
The next few days were full of practise for the third task. Harry finally mastered the Stunning spell, which saved Hermione and Ron from being his test dummies. He moved on to the Confusion Hex, Impediment Hex, Slowing Charm, Knockback Jinx and others. Hermione had to admit that Harry was a natural where Defense Against the Dark Arts was concerned. If only he could apply himself to his other classes like that.
Harry and Ron had a good handle on things, leaving Hermione time to focus on her school work and the last two tasks needed for Prefect eligibility. She had written letters to both Dumbledore and Filch the previous day, and was waiting for their replies of meeting times and dates.
Her first response came from Mr Filch, requesting that she meet with him after dinner that evening. After finishing her supper, Hermione headed down to Argus Filch's office. She realised she didn't know much about the Hogwarts caretaker- except that he had a cat called Mrs Norris and he hated students.
Hermione knocked hesitantly at Filch's door. "Enter," growled the cantankerous caretaker. Hermione opened the creaky door and walked into Filch's small office. It was dark and dingy, and smelled mildly of mothballs.
"Thank you for seeing me, Mr Filch," Hermione said.
"Oh, it's you," Filch said. "You're friends with the Weasleys. Awful, nasty children, they are."
Hermione was unsure of how to answer. "Yes, I'm Hermione Granger," she ended up saying.
"And you were with Harry Potter when he petrified Mrs Norris," he sneered, talking about his beloved cat. In her second year, Hermione had been petrified, along with Mrs Norris and some other students.
"Harry didn't petrify Mrs Norris," Hermione explained. "It was the Basilisk-"
"I know what happened!" Filch yelled. "But what's been done can't be undone. So, you say you want to be Prefect, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then we're gonna be working closely. What are your thoughts on corporal punishment?"
Hermione struggled to answer. "I prefer awarding and deducting house points," she said, hoping that would suffice.
"Fair enough. I can work with that," grumbled Filch. "Let me read you off a list of my duties, so you know where the line is."
Hermione didn't know what line he was referring to, but she just sat quietly, willing this "mentoring" session to be over quickly. She pulled out parchment and a quill to take notes, which seemed to impress Filch.
"I am responsible for enforcing the hygiene of the school and students," he started. The irony wasn't lost on Hermione as she looked at his dirty and tattered clothes. "I also patrol corridors for students out of bed after hours or in forbidden areas. If anyone is out, it's an automatic deduction of house points and detention, which I sometimes administer. Lastly, I am in charge of security. I monitor all Hogsmeade trips and anyone entering or exiting the castle."
Hermione finished writing the last duty down. "That seems like quite a lot to be responsible for, Mr Filch," she said with a fake sense of astonishment. Stroking his ego seemed to be the best way to handle Filch.
"It is," he said. "If it weren't for me, this school would fall apart."
"I don't doubt it."
"I haven't even mentioned all of the odd jobs Dumbledore has me do."
"My goodness, that's very impressive," Hermione said, wishing she could roll her eyes without him seeing.
"And, of course, confiscating Dungbombs and other nasty contraband items. Zonkos should be burned to the ground if you ask me!Total sham of a shop."
"I see what you mean," said Hermione.
"You know, there was a time when I was able to hang students from chains," Mr Filch said wistfully. "Those were the good old days."
"Uh-huh."
"Dumbledore is too soft, I tell you. Thinks students are worthy of trust. Ha! Students are inherently evil. Just take those Weasley Twins. They should be in Azkaban, they should. Or at least expelled. What do you think of expulsion?"
"I agree with it in severe cases," Hermione said carefully.
"I knew I liked you, girl," Filch said. "You know, I took over for Apollyon Pringle in '73. He was a great man. Mentored me. When he was caretaker, he was allowed to cane any student found wandering the corridors at night. Speaking of the Weasleys, good old Apollyon caught Arthur Weasley out in the middle of the night. Caned him good, he did. Always suspected Molly was there with him, but he couldn't catch her."
"Oh, I didn't know that," Hermione said, wondering if there was any truth to the story.
"And Arthur turned out better for it. That's why I want to take the cane to those boys of his."
"Mmhmm," Hermione responded, sticking with noncommittal noises and as few words as possible.
"Maybe you can help me convince Dumbledore?"
"Maybe," Hermione said to appease him. "If I become Prefect, maybe."
"Yes, well, you have my recommendation," Filch said. "So that's it, yeah?"
"I guess so," Hermione said, hopeful for the end of the meeting.
Filch stood and walked over to his door. "Fine. I'll let Dumbledore know then. I look forward to working with you on new punishment opportunities next year."
"Uh, ok," Hermione said, standing and walking to the door. Whilst she was happy the "mentoring session" was over, she was confused about how abruptly it had ended.
"Goodbye," said Filch, slamming the door as soon as she stepped through the doorway.
Hermione tried to shake it off and took a look at the time. Harry and Ron would still be in the library, so she headed in that direction. As she rounded the corridor near where she, Mrs Norris, and the other students had been petrified, she nearly collided with Neville.
"Oh, hey, Hermione!" Neville said jovially. "You alright?"
Hermione suppressed the urge to pull her friend into a tight hug, which made her realise that Neville probably didn't tell anyone about his parents because he didn't want anybody's pity. She forced a smile onto her face. "Hi, Neville! I'm okay, you?"
"Just trying to keep up with the loads of homework we've been getting," he said.
"Tell me about it."
"It makes me nervous for next year. Everyone says O.W.L. years are even worse."
Hermione nodded. "I've heard that as well. Whatever comes, I am always here to help you. You know that, right?"
"Of course!" said Neville brightly. "So, have you been helping Harry with the third task?"
"Yeah, as much as I can, anyway."
"Do you think he'll win?" Neville squeaked.
"I don't know, I just hope no one gets hurt," Hermione said.
"Me too. Well, I'm off to study a bit with Luna," Neville said. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Of course!" Hermione said, smiling as Neville continued in the opposite direction down the corridor.
Hermione continued on to the library and quickly spotted Harry and Ron amongst a few piles of books. "What are we focusing on today?" she asked.
"Blasting Curses," Ron muttered. "Can't wait to practise that one." He rolled his eyes. "Where've you been?"
"I had to talk to Filch," Hermione said, sitting at the table and grabbing a book.
"What did you do!?" Ron sat up, suddenly intrigued.
"Nothing," said Hermione. "Just had to talk with him about a few things."
"That doesn't sound dodgy at all," Ron said sarcastically.
"Shut it," Hermione snapped.
Harry barely lifted his head to acknowledge Hermione. She noticed he was looking pale again. "Harry, are you alright? Is your scar hurting again?"
"No," Harry grumbled. "Just tired of this stupid Tournament. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'd much rather revise for exams. Which, I realise, you both haven't been doing much of because you've been helping me. I can always practise on my own."
"Don't worry about it," Hermione said. "At least we'll get top marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."
"Good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron, screwing up his eyes to aim at a random wasp that had buzzed in the room. "Impedimenta!" he said, causing the wasp to stop mid-air.
"Excuse me," came a voice from the other side of the stack of books on the table. "Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"I thought that was you!" Jillian popped into view.
"Hi, Jillian!"
"Hey!" she replied and then nodded towards Ron and Harry. "I was sent to tell you that Professor Dumbledore would like to see you if you are free."
"You did do something! Spill it," Ron shouted.
"Lower your voice, young man!" came the shrill whisper of Madame Pince, who had magically appeared next to Ron.
"Blimey. Sorry."
Madame Pince stalked silently away.
"She's a sneaky one," Ron whispered. "So, what did you do, Hermione?"
"How many times do I have to tell you, Ronald," said Hermione. "I didn't do anything. I just have some business to tend to about next year."
"You're not going to use the Time-" Ron stopped himself from finishing the term "Time-Turner" since Jillian was standing right there.
"Never you mind," said Hermione, packing up her things again. "I'll meet you both in the Common Room later?"
"Sure," Harry muttered, barely paying any attention to what they were saying.
Hermione and Jillian walked out of the Library and towards the Headmaster's office. "The password is 'Cockroach Cluster,'" Jillian said. "Whatever those are, I don't want to know."
"Thanks," Hermione said.
"You're not in trouble, are you?" asked Jillian.
"No," she answered. "At least, I don't think so."
"Good. Well, I'll see you later, I guess!" Jillian skipped off, leaving Hermione at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Located in the Headmaster's tower, the Headmaster's office was accessible through a circular, moving stone staircase off of the Gargoyle Corridor on the second floor. Hermione climbed the stone steps and was met with a doorway concealed by a gargoyle on the third floor.
"Cockroach Cluster," Hermione said. The Gargoyle stepped aside to reveal the stone doorway. She wasn't sure whether or not to knock since she had just been invited, but she decided to err on the side of caution. Her knock barely made a sound through the heavy wooden door, but Dumbledore must have heard it.
"Please come in, Miss Granger," he said from the other side.
The door opened to reveal an exquisite circular room with many windows and many portraits of (presumably) past Headmasters and Headmistresses. Several curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat.
"Welcome, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore said jovially as he stood to greet her. "I believe this is your first time in my office, yes? I hope you find it satisfactory for a humble Headmaster like myself."
"It's quite perfect," Hermione said, yet again having no idea how to answer Dumbledore. For the most part, Hermione could anticipate people's responses, but Albus Dumbledore always left her guessing. Perhaps that's why she wasn't as impressed by him as most others.
"Now, I understand you would like to be considered to be chosen as the Gryffindor Prefect next year, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"If you don't mind, Miss Granger, I have a list of interview questions to run through. It shouldn't take but a few hours." Dumbledore picked up a scroll on his desk and unfurled it. Hermione's jaw dropped as she watched the parchment hit the floor. "Ready?"
"Erm, sure," Hermione said, straightening in her chair, mentally preparing for hours of questioning.
"I appreciate your willingness to learn," Dumbledore said. "That is one of the most important qualities of a Prefect, wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, definitely."
"And Prefects have to work closely with professors and school staff to champion and enforce the school rules, yes?"
"Of course."
"Without any question?"
Hermione hesitated at the question. She was quite certain it was a trick question. She chose her words carefully. "You should always defer to authority and wisdom, yet work within the constraints of reality, morality, and integrity."
"Excellent answer, Miss Granger," said the Headmaster. "So, would you like to comment on the length of this interview?"
Everything clicked in Hermione's head. It was all a test. All the man did was talk in riddles. "Actually, yes," she said. "I don't think an extensive interview is necessary. My qualifications should be impressive enough to be demonstrated in a few questions."
"Bravo, Miss Granger," Dumbledore chuckled. "Thankfully, I have this much shorter list in my drawer." The headmaster pulled out a piece of parchment that was no bigger than a greeting card. "So, let us begin. What do you consider to be your biggest strength, and why?"
Hermione bit her lip and thought a minute about her answer. "I'd have to say my biggest strength is academics. I have mastered the art of studying, and I take pride in my work."
"And your biggest weakness?"
"I would consider my social skills to be my biggest weakness," Hermione responded.
"Why do you say that? You are surrounded by friends."
Hermione paused again. "I have to work much harder at relationships than I do schoolwork."
"Some might say that working harder shows fortitude, not weakness."
Hermione waited for Dumbledore to elaborate, but he was silent. Was she supposed to agree? Follow up with a question? "That's an interesting opinion," she said.
"I think so as well," said Dumbledore. "Now, if you were to give a tour to a new student, which part of the castle would you show them first, and what is the significance of your choice?"
"Is the new student Muggle-born or a Wizard?" Hermione asked. She could tell Dumbledore was taken aback by her clarifying question. Finally, the tables were turned on the Headmaster.
"Are you insinuating the answer should be different depending on the student's blood status?" Dumbledore asked hesitantly.
"Not because of their blood status," Hermione said quickly, "but because of how they were brought up. Blood status has nothing to do with it."
"Ah, I see. Interesting," Dumbledore said. "Would you mind telling me your answer for both?"
"No, I don't mind," Hermione said. "I would take a new Wizard student to the Library first because even though they grew up in the Wizarding World, I would want to show them there is so much more to learn… and that just because you may have eleven years on students who didn't grow up in Wizard families doesn't necessarily mean you know more." Hermione took a breath and then continued. " As for the new Muggle student, the Great Hall would be the first place I'd take them. That is the most magical and breathtaking place in the whole castle, especially with the enchanted ceiling."
"Indeed it is. And the incredible feasts and decor-"
"About that," Hermione interrupted him, her face flushing. "I'd like to speak to you about the indentured servitude of House-Elves at Hogwarts. It's demeaning, demoralising, and immoral."
"I see," Dumbledore said, twirling his long beard in his hands for a few moments.
Hermione continued, incensed. "You and thousands of other Wizards have taken advantage of House-Elves and their innate need to please people to force them into slavery. I would like to think an educational facility like Hogwarts would know better than to treat people and creatures with anything but fairness and compassion. But instead, deep-seated prejudice and systemic discrimination have been treated as commonplace and natural. Today it is the enslavement of House-Elves for being different. Next, it's Muggle-borns." Hermione paused her passionate speech and suddenly remembered who she was talking to. "Sir," she added to the end.
The Headmaster grew still and studied Hermione. She forced herself to stop talking and stare back at him. She needed to hold her ground and not appear weak by rambling. She couldn't water down her argument in any way.
Finally, Dumbledore sighed. "I would like to have a more in-depth conversation about this, though perhaps at a different time."
"Why don't you want to discuss it right now?"
"Because, Miss Granger, this is an interview about you becoming Prefect, not a tribunal on House-Elves' rights."
"I am only doing as you asked, sir: questioning the methods of an authority figure based on the constraints of reality, morality, and integrity."
"Touché, Miss Granger," Dumbledore chuckled, which only made Hermione angrier. "I do not wish to make any excuse for my behaviour or prejudices, nor for the beliefs of other Witches and Wizards. That is not my intention. I will say, however, that I do not agree with the treatment of House-Elves. I believe it is an abhorrent system of inequity and abuse although, admittedly, I have not done enough to combat that system. If you might find it acceptable, I would appreciate the chance to work with you more in-depth to come up with some possible changes Hogwarts can make to improve the lives of our House-Elves, and potentially those beyond these walls."
Hermione wasn't expecting that answer. "Yes, I think that would be quite beneficial."
"Brilliant. I do appreciate your candour and forthrightness. Excellent qualities of a Prefect, if you ask me. I believe I have all I need, for now, Miss Granger. Now, don't you have a third task to prepare for?"
Hermione felt like she had whiplash. The bumbling old man changed subjects faster than Nifflers looked for coins. "Erm, yes. Thank you for your consideration. And I will follow up about our discussion on House-Elves," she said.
"Yes, I look forward to working with you. I appreciate being held accountable for once," said the Headmaster as Hermione stood to leave.
The mood in the castle as they entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term.
Tired of walking in on them all over the school, Professor McGonagall had given Harry permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtime when Hermione and Ron helped him practise. Harry was doing exceptionally well with mastering the Reductor curse. The Reductor curse would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way. He also mastered the Four-Point Spell, a valuable discovery of Hermione's, which would make his wand point due north, enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx. Harry wobbled around the room for ten minutes afterwards before she looked up the counter-jinx.
"You're still doing really well, though," Hermione said encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off those spells they had already learnt. "Some of these are bound to come in handy."
"Come and look at this," said Ron, standing by the window. He was staring down at the ground. "What's Malfoy doing?"
Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.
"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," said Harry curiously.
"He can't be," said Hermione, "I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts. Come on, Harry," she added briskly, turning away from the window and moving back into the middle of the room, "let's try that Shield Charm again."
In addition to training, Sirius was sending daily owls now. Like Hermione, he seemed to want to concentrate on getting Harry through the last task before they concerned themselves with anything else. He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry's responsibility, nor was it within his power to influence it.
If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all the same, take no risks: concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.
Hermione tried to remain as optimistic as possible with Harry. Still, once in a while, she saw the same hidden concern she felt on Ron's face, and knew that no amount of training or practise would ever be enough to ensure Harry would survive. Hermione only hoped that the math was wrong this time.
Breakfast was a boisterous affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry seemed to appreciate it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it. She could barely believe her eyes.
"What?" said Harry and Ron together, staring at her.
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Ron grabbed it.
He stared at the headline and said, "No way. Not today. That old cow."
"What?" said Harry. "Rita Skeeter again?"
"No," said Ron, and just like Hermione, he attempted to push the paper out of sight.
"It's about me, isn't it?" said Harry.
"No," said Ron, in an entirely unconvincing tone.
But before Harry could demand to see the paper, Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table.
"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"
Malfoy was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet, too. Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction.
"Let me see it," Harry said to Ron. "Give it here."
Very reluctantly, Ron handed over the newspaper. Harry turned it over. Hermione saw what he saw: a picture of himself beneath a banner headline:
HARRY POTTER'S "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"
The boy who defeated He Who Must Not Be Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behaviour, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts school.
Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying.
It is possible, say top experts at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter's brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.
'He might even be pretending,' said one specialist, 'this could be a plea for attention.'
The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public.
'Potter can speak Parseltongue,' reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth-year. 'There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a Duelling Club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power.'
Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defence League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evil-doers.' Similarly, 'anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence'.
Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the Tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.
"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" said Harry lightly, folding up the paper.
Over on the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were laughing at him, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces and waggling their tongues like snakes.
"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron said. "There's no way she was there. There's no way she could've heard –"
"The window was open," said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."
"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione said. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"
"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" said Harry. "You tell me how she did it!"
"I've been trying!" said Hermione. "But I ... but …" Suddenly, an idea started to form in her head. An open window. The Black Lake. Outside in the Rose Garden. All of the places where Rita got her scoop were outside. Hermione tried to remember what had happened in the Black Lake. "You haff a water-beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," Viktor's voice echoed in her memories. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, remembering.
"Are you alright?" said Ron, frowning at her.
"Yes," said Hermione breathlessly. She just let her mind do the talking. "I've had an idea. I think I know… because then no one would be able to see… even Moody… and she'd have been able to get onto the window-ledge… but she's not allowed… she's definitely not allowed… I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library just to make sure!"
With that, Hermione seized her schoolbag and dashed out of the Great Hall.
Rita Skeeter was an Animagus… and she would bet every Knut, Sickle, and Galleon in the Wizarding World that she was an unregistered Animagus. All she had to do now was convince Madame Pince to allow her in the restricted section to find the Animagus registry to confirm. Hermione steeled herself for a battle as she made her way to the library.
It took a bit of time, but Hermione finally convinced Madame Pince to let her into the restricted section. Her suspicions were confirmed: Rita Skeeter was transforming into a water beetle to access places she was not allowed to be. That was why Malfoy looked as though he was talking into a walkie-talkie - whispering to Rita while she sat on the statue.
Hermione raced back to the Great Hall to tell the boys over lunch, but as soon as she ran into the room, she was shocked to see Bill and Mrs Weasley. Why were they there? Harry looked up as she approached.
"Are you going to tell us –?"
Hermione shook her head warningly and glanced at Mrs Weasley.
"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.
"Hello," said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs Weasley's face.
Harry looked at them both, then said, "Mrs Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."
"Oh!" said Mrs Weasley. "No – of course I didn't!"
But she became considerably warmer towards Hermione after that.
Hermione learned that each of the champion's families had been invited to spend the day with them before the third task and because Harry's aunt and uncle were horrible people, Mrs Weasley and Bill offered to come in their place. Hermione was sure Harry very much preferred the Weasleys to the Dursleys any day.
Harry, Bill, and Mrs Weasley whiled away the afternoon with a long walk around the castle and then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. Hermione was glad that he got that time to be with people he loved. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her. Viktor was seated at the Slytherin table with a man and woman Hermione assumed were his parents. She had the same intense eyes as he did. She didn't see any other family near him. A part of her wanted to go over and introduce herself, but she knew it would probably cause more problems than it was worth.
There were more courses than usual. As the enchanted ceiling overhead faded from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch pitch for the third and last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now?"
Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; Hermione and the Weasleys stood and hugged him. Hermione tried not to hold on too tightly and fought hard to keep the tears inside. Harry gave them an awkward sort of wave, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.
She watched both Harry and Viktor walk out of the huge doors. As soon as they left, Hermione burst out into tears. To her surprise, Ron ran to her side and put a comforting arm around her. "He's gonna be ok," he said softly in her ear. She leaned against him and cried into his shoulder. She was so overwhelmed by everything that it all came pouring out of her (thoroughly soaking Ron's robes).
A few minutes later, Hermione had calmed down slightly and looked around, reassessing the mood in the Great Hall. Everyone except the Champion's families seemed extremely excited about the third task. Amos Diggory and, presumably, his wife at the Hufflepuff table, sitting sullenly and pensively. Cho Chang had come over to join them, subdued as well.
Gabriella and her parents sat at the Ravenclaw table quietly, with their heads bowed. The Krums were all alone at the Slytherin table- Viktor's mother seemed terrified. Mr Krum, on the other hand, wasn't paying her any attention, but was chatting with Draco and his thugs instead. None of the Slytherins appeared to take notice of Mrs Krum except for Sophie. Sophie caught Hermione's eye and nodded to the slight, dark-haired woman. She stood, walked around the Slytherin table, and then sat back down to create a sort of barrier between Mrs Krum and Mr Krum and the rest of the Slytherins. Hermione understood Sophie was running interference to give her a chance to talk with Mrs Krum.
She stood up and, without looking back at Ron and the rest of the Weasleys, made her way to the Slytherin table. As she walked, she realised this was the first (and probably would be the last) time she had ever been on that side of the Great Hall.
"Excuse me, Mrs Krum?" Hermione said in a small voice.
Mrs Krum looked up.
"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm friends with your son," she continued. Mrs Krum looked at her blankly. It took Hermione a second to realise she probably didn't speak English. Undeterred, Hermione tried to think back to some of the Bulgarian phrases Viktor had taught her. "Dobŭr vecher (Good evening)," she said. "Moeto ime e Hermione Granger (My name is Hermione Granger). Priyatno mi e da se zapoznaem (Nice to meet you). Ne govorya balgarski mnogo dobre (I don't speak Bulgarian very well). Az sŭm priyatel na vashiya sin. (I am a friend of your son). Pozhelavam ti kŭsmet (I wish you luck)."
Hermione turned to walk back to the Gryffindor table but was embraced from behind by Mrs Krum. "Mnogo blagodarya (Thank you very much)!" Viktor's mom cried and gave Hermione another hug. She then started speaking rapidly in Bulgarian, and Hermione had no hope of even recognising one word. Hermione just kept smiling and nodding as Mrs Krum rattled on, enthused. Suddenly, Mr Krum stepped between them and seemed to chastise his wife, who immediately went silent.
Hermione, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, turned and walked back to the Gryffindor table. Ron had been watching the exchange. Hermione held her breath, waiting for a snarky comment from him but, surprisingly, none came. Perhaps the possible death of their best friend had healed Ron's jealous heart.
About five minutes later, it was announced that it was time for everyone to move down to the Quidditch Pitch for the third task. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and gave it a squeeze before falling in line with the crowd exiting the Great Hall.
They walked onto the Quidditch pitch, which was now completely unrecognisable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap before them, the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy. The stands directly faced the labyrinth and were rapidly filling with people.
Hermione recognised Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick, who were speaking to the champions as she and the others found their seats. They were all wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats (all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin waistcoat). Bagman was also there and seemed to dismiss the Hogwarts staff who stationed themselves around the maze.
Bagman raised his wand to his throat and began to speak in his magically magnified voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, on eighty-five points each – Mr Cedric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "In second place, on eighty points – Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!' More applause. 'And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy!"
Hermione and the Weasleys saw Harry wave at them, and they waved back enthusiastically. She hoped that wouldn't be the last time she saw him alive. Her eyes travelled over to Viktor, who, to her surprise, was also looking at her. She waved to him as well, and he grinned and waved back. She mouthed "Good luck" to him (since she hadn't got to tell him like she did Harry), and he mouthed back, "Thank you, smartest girl."
Before Hermione could think or do anything else, Bagman's voice interrupted her. "So, on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three - Two - One!" He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Hermione watched as the two Hogwarts students hurried forwards into the maze.
The towering hedges seemed to close behind Harry and Cedric, completely blocking them from view. A few moments later, Bagman blew his whistle again, and the hedges parted to allow Viktor to enter the maze. Bagman's whistle blew a third time as Fleur stepped forward.
All of the champions were now in the maze.