Chapter 29 - The Summer Dueling Tournament

"Ginevra Weasley," said Professor Quirrell. "Hermione Granger, come forward."

The applause from the rafters was far too quiet for what was surely the most anticipated match of the entire tournament. Hermione huffed at the situation being so insultingly thrust upon her. Forcing a witch of her caliber to perform in the elements? Outside like some kind of barbarous shop-floor worker? Did they not know who she was? What she was? Well the disrespect was certainly noted. Hermione questioned the need to hold the Summer Dueling Tournament in the quidditch pitch. Perhaps the administration had thought they would have more of an audience, that they'd therefore needed the rafters to have enough seating. Understandable enough, she supposed, watching her would be like attending one of Mozart's concerts when he was a child. But it seemed that without some silly quidditch match to lure in alumni they'd only managed to attract the few parents who had thought to pick up their children early for the coming Summer Break (the rafters were almost entirely empty just like her old spelling bees). So they could have safely fit the tournament into The Great Hall. Of course, The Great Hall would have still been too hot, the antiquated school had still not bothered to install an HVAC system (did they not understand that The Hermione Granger attended?), but at least it would keep her safe from the horrid UV rays of the terrible sun (which was the natural enemy of any academic). The more she thought about it, the more she realized how completely unfair everything was. The sunlight weighed on her skin so much she could feel her pores, the incessant chirping of obnoxious starlings was a source of constant irritation, and pollen made her eyes red and her nose runny. It was truly a crime that a star of her caliber was expected to perform under such conditions. But alas, Hermione was far too polite to complain (although she would be penning Headmaster Dumbledore a strongly worded letter[not that she would be overly negative of course, the atrocity of the setting was nothing to be ashamed of, mistakes were how one learned after all]). But even if she were as boorish as a yankee, she'd have had little choice but to take part in the dueling tournament.

The Dark Lord had made no moves since disposing of Barty. Hermione hadn't the faintest clue why, which had of course been very exciting. But without The Dark Lord's mischief she'd had no murders to catch, no mysteries to uncover, not even any self-imposed mistakes to correct. She'd at last been able to put her full focus on her studies, on preparing for The Summer Dueling Tournament, on strengthening her magical core, on creating her first truly meaningful human connection with one Ginny Weasley, on becoming the very best version of Hermione Granger she could possibly be… In her darker moments she'd wondered if perhaps she'd imagined everything: if perhaps there was no philosopher's stone in Hogwarts, if perhaps she'd imagined her murder of Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart, if perhaps there were to be no consequences for her horrible crimes, if perhaps (most horribly of all) her character arc was truly to be left unresolved in the second act! Had her precious antagonist abandoned her? Had everything she'd done been completely meaningless? Was she never to experience her euphoric third act revelation? Her catharsis? No! She'd not allow it!

"Let's give them a show," said Ginny, waving at the crowd, earning herself a brief round of applause.

"Good luck," said Hermione automatically. She felt a hollow knot of anxiety in her gut. Ahh she'd missed this ever so much. This sense of purpose. The nervousness that came with stakes, the nausea in her belly. If she lost to Ginny, her precious Dark Lord would lose faith, and abandon her forever. She couldn't just be victorious, she had to win convincingly, prove that she was truly The Next Tom Riddle. The potential contentment that could only come from overcoming a truly difficult challenge; she felt alive at last.

She locked eyes with Ginny.

I've got to be quick, thought Ginny.

Hermione smiled faintly.

"Begin on three," said Professor Quirrell. "One…"

Expelliarmus right off, thought Ginny. That's my best chance, get her before she can get going just like Harry did.

"Two…"

Then circle her, just in case. Keep moving and attacking. I've got the advantage in speed and accuracy, but I can't match her knowledge. A slow pace is to her advantage, I've got to maintain constant pressure, I can't give her any time to think.

"Three!"

"Protego!" Hermione said. Ginny's red disarming charm ricocheted off Hermione's shimmering shield, harmlessly blasting through one of the rafter's wooden beam joints. She hadn't bothered to try and reflect it back at Ginny, the girl was quite correct. Hermione was rather rubbish at hitting a moving target.

Ginny scurried about. That was no good. If Hermione hadn't known it was coming, it may have even been a problem. Unfortunately for Ginny, Hermione truly had had nothing better to do than obsessively prepare for a tournament over who was best at a child's game. Fighting was so juvenile, but then, so was Hermione.

"Avis," Hermione said, summoning a flock of yellow birds, and having them chase after Ginny. Her friend sprinted in circles, protecting her head, and swatting futilely at the avians. Perhaps too advanced a curse to reveal, but it was probably far enough from avada kedavra to avoid tipping her hand. Actually, she had to reveal enough of her abilities to entice The Dark Lord. She was only being logical, as always.

Ginny snarled, stopped running, put her foot in the wet grass, and flicked her wand in a mirrored N. "Diffindo!" A pink flash sliced through a few birds, but hardly made a dent in the swarm. She took a few ragged breaths, and set her jaw. "Bombarda!" Oh Ginny, that wouldn't work either.

Hermione walked next to Professor Quirrell, and smiled thinly.

"A neat trick," said Professor Quirrell.

"But one a clever sixth year could pull off," said Hermione, staring at her fingernails. How could one go about trimming them with magic? Was there some kind of long acting spell that might continuously…

Oh, who bloody cared?

Ginny finally arrives at a solution. "Protego!"

Hermione yawned, and pointed her wand lazily at her birds. "Mortem Bombarda."

And her flock of yellow birds stopped swarming around the shimmering shield, and dove into it head-first. They exploded on contact, quickly collapsing Ginny's protective charm. Chunks of burning grass rained back down on the turf, the pitch was covered in a dark cloud of dusty smoke, and the stadium was shocked into silence.

Umm…

That had been a brilliant bit of transfiguration, where exactly was her applause?! Aww well, she'd just have to settle for Ginny's terrified shrieks. Silly girl.

"Gluten Globus," Hermione drawled, and the remaining birds transfigured into their final form: Upon contact with Ginny they became pink wads of ever-expanding bubblegum. Ginny pulled them off her tattered cloak, tried to toss them off her, but of course that only got her hands stuck in gum. Hermione glanced up at Professor Quirrell. "Does she really think I'd murder her? In front of so many people? I'm not such a fool!"

Professor Quirrell awarded her a thin smile. "Winner, Hermione Granger!"

"Mug Memotioner," Hermione said briskly, and the gum covering Ginny returned to its original size.

Hermione wandered over to Ginny, to give her a hand. "You can get the Bazooka Bubblegum out with some peanut butte-"

"Leave me alone!" Ginny slapped her hand away. "I thought you were my friend!"

Ginny stalked away.

Hermione had won. Ginny had been her main competitor and Hermione had handled her easily. Rationally, she knew that so long as she didn't get careless, she'd be winning The Summer Dueling Tournament. She'd at last atoned for her embarrassing defeat earlier in the year.

…Hurrah…

Mum would surely be impressed. The Summer Dueling Tournament had been a grand success. Hurrah.

Hurrah… Hermione looked up. She saw a few cumulonimbus clouds which had formed from rising, cooling pockets of moist air, but mostly just blue caused by the increased scattering of light waves of lower energy levels… Others could see the beauty in the sky so easily, but for all her effort to understand it, it had always been stale to Hermione. Just like…

Why?… Still… Even now… Even now…

But she'd surely done enough to impress even Professor Quirrell! Yes… Yes! Her Dark Lord would make his move soon, and surely after the climax she'd be complete, and everything would be worth it!

XOXOXOX

"You've seen her true nature at last, your actions were entirely appropriate," said Draco kindly, wiping a tear off his fair maiden's cheek. It had been easy enough to find his girl, whenever she lost she hid behind the Slytherin rafters to cry in privacy. It was cozy enough, it was where the Slytherin Team gathered before a match and was adorned with green rugs and silver curtains. "Weren't the two of you supposed to be friends? But after you beat Gryffindor for us you were rightfully getting all the attention, and Granger can't have that can she? So she acted as she always does and did her best to humiliate you in front of the entire school. It just goes to show that you can't study your way into class. She's exposed herself, she ought to be the one cryi-"

"I'm not crying," Ginevra cried, wiping her cheeks. Adorable, she'd acted the same way after they'd lost to Hufflepuff. Ginevra pulled some strange pink goo from her hair, but her struggles only dug it deeper. "Can you ever stop being an arse? What is wrong with you? I was being a total prat… I know it! You should know it. I just… I tried it on my own, and I'm not good enough… I'm not good enough!"

Draco took Ginevra's hand. She tried to pull away, but he held on tight. "Granger will pay. I'll beat her, even if she is some kind of magical frea-"

"You're such a creep! I dunno what you've got planned in that stupid little head of yours, but Hermione's gonna wipe the bloody floor with you!" Ginevra stormed away.

Draco scowled. This was his reward for being chivalrous? It appeared that chivalry was no longer welcome, that was what was modern society for you. He truly worried for the future. Greatness faded with each generation, and his appeared entirely lacking in class… Well, almost entirely.

"Tough luck mate," said Justin Finch-Fletcherly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But keep on trying. You're a Malfoy and she's a mere Weasley. She'll come 'round eventually- but the chattel never like to admit they're such so she can't see her opportunity. In the meantime, that'll be a hundred galleons."

Draco grumbled, but paid Justin the pocket change. There was no breaking a bet between two gentlemen afterall.

"Have you talked with your father about McGonagall yet?" Draco inquired.

"He'll be flying over by the end of the month," said Justin with the confidence of one raised properly. "He's prepared to offer a very generous sum for a Transfiguration Professor with a better understanding of their student's needs."

"Father will be exerting pressure on The Old Fool as well," said Draco importantly. "Dark Lord Dumbledore is quite powerful however. He's been able to run the school with impunity for the better part of four decades. But Father assures me that things will be changing rapidly, and that by this time next year the man will be able to harm us no longer."

"Good, good," said Justin cheerfully, offering Draco a firewhiskey to celebrate the good news properly. It was truly splendid that the only student with a modicum of class had at last been restored.

He felt someone graze his shoulder. Who dared- Oh…

"Ahh Draco," said Father, checking his pocket watch. "You've a friend. Who is he?"

"This is Justin," said Draco, licking his lips. "Justin…"

Draco swallowed. Father hated mudbloods. He wouldn't understand that although Justin lacked the proper wizarding pedigree, he was the right sort.

Yes," said Father expectantly, his smile warm. "Good. Now I've got to speak to you pri-"

"We're not really friends," Draco said, pushing Justin aside. What had he just done, what had he just said? "We were making a simple transaction."

Disgraceful. He wished to vanish. Not become invisible, not escape somewhere far away, vanish from the universe entirely. It was intolerable. It hurt… Who was to blame for this pain? This was Justin's fault for being a mud- Father's fault for being so stric- His own fault for being such a cowa- Next time he'd stand up to Fa- Inconceivable! Had he entirely lost his wits? Draco felt like he was burning alive. But he was a Malfoy, he was Draco, he was perfect and therefore regret was impossible.

Justin snorted. "I'm Justin Finch-Fletcherly, of the Finch-Fletcherly family. See you around Draco." He lifted the silver curtains and strutted off.

Justin should have screamed at Draco! He shouldn't have been so understanding! Stupid, classy Justin!

"Careful Draco." Father said. "I've not heard of the Finch-Fletcherly family. A half-blood? He shows promise, but a Malfoy must…" Father swallowed, finding something faulty in Slytherin's green rug. "A Malfoy must choose his company wisely. Not for his own comfort, nor friendship or love, but to ensure the continued health of Magical Britain."

"Yes Father," said Draco.

"You'll be fighting Miss Granger in the next round," said Father.

Draco let out a breath. "I'll beat her Father."

"No," Father said softly, inspecting the threadcount of the silver curtains. "You won't."

Even Father didn't believe in him. He shouldn't have been surprised, Granger was some kind of magical freak, and in a proper duel Draco stood little chance. But Draco was cunning. Justin had brought him a muggle contraption which was quite effective at controlling the undesirables. A taser, he'd called it. He'd have Granger convulsing at his feet in the mud.

"Draco," said Father forcefully, looming above him. "I'm well aware you could beat her. Granger is nothing more than a jumped up mudblood. You are going to let her win. You must. You must!"

Draco clenched his jaw. So… Father had known the whole time? He'd made Draco… Help her… Look like a fool! Be her puppet! And now he was asking Draco to let the bitch think herself superior?

No! No, he wouldn't have it! Not even for Father!

What had he expected? Father had thrown in his lot with Lord Voldemort. A jumped up mudblood if ever he'd heard of one. Well Draco Malfoy was nobody's fool!

"Yes Father," said Draco, glaring at his feet. The taser, proof of his own weakness. Draco wasn't so lacking in cunning that he couldn't acknowledge his own limitations. He couldn't oppose Father. Not yet anyways…

Or perhaps… Not ever.

He was a middling student. The only subject in which he'd shown promise was Potions, and that could hardly be considered magic. He'd made the quidditch team because of Father's money. Because he was a Malfoy. If he wanted to change the world, he had to subordinate himself to somebody exceptional… He'd have to become Granger's plaything, perhaps Dumbledore's, if he wanted to escape Father's control… Draco squeezed his fists.

"Father," said Draco. "You're still here?"

"Hermione Granger must win! It is an order Draco…" Father glared into his eyes, so intimidating Draco almost missed the drops running down Father's cheek. "And not from me. You remember what I've told you about defiance, the stories? You. Will. Let. Her. Win. You will let her win! I will not have my heir executed over some silly dueling… I'm sorry Draco… Forgive me…" Father trembled. "Why? Why is he asking this of me? Have I been mistaken? Sacrifices must be made, loyalty must be tested, but a wise general would… But The Dark Lord is the only one who can save us. Cowardice within the ranks will lead to our annihilation. I must… Lead… Oh Merlin, I'm sorry Narcissa…"

Father hugged him, and gave him a small vial. "You're not to drink this. Nor show it to anyone under any circumstance. Not unless… Unless… unless you can wait no longer… Unless, you feel yourself… slipping beyond…"

Draco paled. "Father?" What was this?

"I love you Son," Father said, squeezing him tightly. "You've been given a great honor. By the end of the night, you will be known as the greatest Malfoy who ever lived. The savior of the world. And that jumped up mudblood I've been forcing you to bow to will be dead. You just have to trust me. I would never hurt you."

"I…" Draco said. "I love you, Father."

XOXOXOX

Hermione had far too much respect for Draco Malfoy to read his mind. She also didn't need to.

He was trembling so badly he could barely grip his wand.

"…Two, one!" Shouted Professor Quirrell.

Hermione readied her vinewood wand in front of her, elbow slightly bent.

"You afraid, Granger?" Asked Draco, his face twisted into something ugly. "Not going to try to humiliate me as you did Ginevra? Finally realized what would happen if you attacked a Malfoy? Well you've lost your chance! I see you for the lying snake you are, intent on destroying everything I hold dear!"

Hermione yawned.

"I can't attack you," Hermione said. "How about a handicap to level the field and make things sporting? I shan't use a single hex on you."

"I'll make you pay, Granger!" Draco snarled. "You'll regret that big mouth soon! Densaugeo!"

A violet light rushed to Hermione. "Savlio Hexia." Hermione caught the curse with a downward slash of her wand, reflecting it back at Draco. His eyes widened, and his own hex bashed against his two front teeth. They grew and grew. Ever so slightly. If one looked closely, they may have been twenty percent larger.

"Certainly a good effort," Hermione said, trying to hide her disappointment. "For an average first year. Keep at it. With a few more years you may have something. Oh, do you have something more to show me?"

"Serpensortia!" Draco summoned a seven-foot anaconda. It slithered through the grass towards Hermione.

"Egestas!" Hermione summoned a cute little bunny, and sent it hopping towards Draco. The anaconda chased the bunny, and oh no, Draco really didn't even know how to dismiss his own snake did he? That was rather embarrassing, but she ought to have expected it from a wizard of his caliber (not that there was anything wrong with being a near squib of course, why most of the students at this school lacked even a morsel of magical talent). "Bombarda."

The bunny and serpent exploded, chunks of it slamming into Draco, coating his pristine green robes in sticky red blood.

Draco spluttered, wiping her rabbit's poor (and anatomically correct!) intestines off his face. Hermione noted with extreme satisfaction that some feces had leaked from the intestines, little brown granules of half-digested plant material smashed against his cheek, and even the blood was starting to coagulate! Such attention-to-detail, such craftsmanship, truly a wonderful spell! "That's it!" Draco bellowed, for some unfathomable reason sounding furious. "Enough!" He pulled out- was that a gun?

"Protego!" Hermione bellowed. Something vaporized against her shield.

A jet of red light struck Draco, and Professor Quirrell caught the gun, inspecting it.

"A taser," said Professor Quirrell cooley. He stared at Draco. "Certainly… Unexpected… You're disqualified of course. That was… against the rules… Rest assured, you will be disciplined for your deviance."

Hermione swallowed her disappointment. It hadn't even been a real gun. She'd never been in any real danger.

Draco paled, like he'd seen a ghost. Then he ran off. That was certainly… Telling. She felt a wave of relief.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh," said Professor Quirrell, gazing at Draco. "You haven't even shaken her hand. What would your father say about such a dereliction of duty?"

Draco trudged over to Hermione. "Watch yourself Granger."

The crowd applauded her politely for the display of showmanship. Or perhaps magic. How long was this tournament going to take?

She stared into the sky. Who ever knew that magical school could be so dreadfully boring?

"She's a filthy dirty mudblood," Draco screamed.

Hermione perked up and didn't bother to respond. With any luck-

"This again? Hermione is related to Pettigrew?" Pansy said, wearing a nasty expression. "She's a proper witch! Don't think you can tell us what to do just because you're a Malfoy!"

No, no, NO! Hermione hadn't done anything to propagate that silly rumor in months!

"She's the next Merlin," said Millicent, sneering. "You're average."

She had always thought Millie an ugly idiot. She'd never hidden it. Yet here Millie was, acting as Hermione's guardian angel.

"She's already brought us an Order of Merlin," said Daphne. "You can only offer us galleons."

What manner of delusion was Daphne suffering? Us? Who was us? Hermione's Order of Merlin was her's alone! And what kind of Slytherin would settle for second class?

"She's brilliant, she's kind," said Vincent. "What are you? Someone I've had to pretend to like for far too long!"

She'd been purposely cruel to the boy! Why did he continue to defend her over a childhood friend?

"If it's between you and her. We choose her," said Gregory. "She's the future of Slytherin. She can lead us to glory. You can't."

The Slytherins cheered their support for her. "Granger! Granger! Granger!"

Granger? They were hardly even pretending anymore?

Draco was all alone. Abandoned by his house. Powerless.

Nothing she did, nothing she was, mattered. All that mattered, all that had ever mattered, was her brilliance.

She wished she'd been sorted into Gryffindor. Neville was there. He wouldn't have stood for such nonsense. She'd have had the precious lifeblood of any decent story: conflict.

XOXOXOXOX

"We have a winner," said Professor Quirrell. "And our First Year Dueling Champion is Hermione Granger."

Hermione tossed Ron back his wand, staring at the sky, sighing like deigning to participate was beneath her.

Ron stewed. He should've known he'd bloody lose. Sure he'd been practicing, but he was only copying the tricks The Great Hermione Granger had taught him. What chance did a little nothing like him have against the most brilliant bloody witch since Merl…

'There's another dueling tournament at the end of the year. Win.'

'Understood.'

He fiddled with the Order of Merlin in his pocket. Mum and Dad had always thought him the worst Weasley, and they'd always loved him just as much as the others. It wasn't despite his lack of talent, it was… There love for him wasn't based… He was lucky to have them.

"I err… Good duel Hermione," Ron said. Do it. Do it, even if she ripped out his heart, he had to do it. Had to show her… Because…

Sure it had taken him a long time, sure he'd had a hard time believing it, but she'd always forced himself to participate in her schemes. He'd always thought it was pointless, but despite all his protests, he'd found that he was capable. That he could do things. She'd encouraged him to be better, she'd forced him to be better, she'd even shown him how to be better. And he had gotten better. Neville was his best friend. With Neville he could be himself. But with Hermione he could be better than himself. She saw something in him that nobody else could, not even him. And he just wanted her to know how much that meant to him. And also maybe that he thought she was pretty and just liked to be around her… Maybe…

Ron managed to meet her beautiful brown eyes.

"You were great out there, and err…" Ron found himself forgetting how to talk. "We've not spoken in a while, and err… I never got to err… Thank you, for showing me how to work hard. Nobody's ever-"

"Ronald," said Hermione coldly. "Don't misunderstand. You were a test subject for my research on the growth of magical cores. It was a mutually beneficial transaction. Nothing more."

"I err…" He'd known all along… But still… Even if they couldn't be like that, even if they couldn't be friends, he just wanted to help her. Make her feel better. His fingers pressed against her Order of Merlin. Ron swallowed. She needed him. "It doesn't matter. Even if you weren't a genius I'd still li-"

"We're not friends," Hermione said flatly. Her eyes flicked upwards before returning to his, her expression as cold as ice. "There's nothing between us."

Ron blushed. "Even so… Even so, I just wanted to say that you're the first person to make me feel…" She was looking at him like he was a bug. "Useful…" He finished lamely.

"I used you," Hermione said flatly. "Just like you said at my award ceremony. Your rat got me an Order of Merlin so I felt I owed you a favor."

"Right and I just wanted-"

"Anyone with an ounce of logic knows that the experience is the only way to learn," said Hermione in a patient voice. "I do put value in love and romance. It sounds like a marvelous experience, but one that seems dreadfully easy to make a mess of. When I met someone my equal, I didn't want them to slip through my fingers. So I picked you out to practice with so that when I found a boy I actually liked I'd know the proper way to go about things. If I hurt you, I do apologize. Still, I found the experience enjoyable. You were a good test subject Ronald Weasley. You ran. I chased. It was fun. But what I liked about you was that you ran so now that I know I have you, the whole endeavor has lost its appeal. Just like the Order of Merlin you've been saving. Can you dispose of it for me? Thank you."

Hermione walked to the champion's circle without so much as looking back.

Ron's mouth was dry. He walked to the loser's lot.

"Tough luck," said Harry. "But you still beat me. Nobody was beating Hermione in this tournament. Making it to the First Year Finals was pretty good."

"Thanks mate," said Ron, feeling a little better. All things aside, his first year at Hogwarts had been pretty good.

"You should thank her," said Nev. "For what she did."

Neville of all people was looking at Hermione admiringly. Just Ron's luck. Nev had been in the bathroom for most of the tournament, but returned just in time to see Ron lose in the finals. Hermione had done a lot for him though, it was good to be reminded of that.

"Yeah," said Ron. He'd just tried to. And she rejected him. He hadn't even been asking her out though. He'd been trying to say bloody thank you and she'd broken up with him. They hadn't even been going out. Bloody girls… Was this even a girls thing? Maybe she'd just gotten tired of him?

She was Hermione Granger afterall, and he was just Ronald Weasley…

Aww hell, he still owed her though. If she ever changed her mind, if she ever wanted to break out of her Slytherin prison, he'd be there to pry off the bars with Dad's Ford Anglia. "I am happy. She's a freak anyways, not like anyone could ever beat her."

"Let her have this moment," said Nev, as Hermione took on the Second Year Champion. She toyed with the poor boy, before finishing him off with some advanced magic Ron had never seen before. She was putting on a performance. "She told us You-Know-Who would be back by the end of the year. If she was right, then we ought to enjoy tonight like it's our last."

"C'mon Nev, nothing's gonna happen. The Heir's gone. She hasn't attacked anyone in months." Ron snorted. That magical core training had satisfied Ginny. Or maybe becoming a quidditch hero. She hadn't attacked anyone since Perce. She must've told You-Know-Who to get lost, and worked out a deal with Dumbledore. That must've made You-Know-Who reconsider things. Maybe wait a while. She'd get mad if he ever said it, but Ron was proud of Ginny.

"Speaking of Ginny," said Neville, his rooster tranquil by his side. "Where is she? I haven't seen her since she lost to Hermione in the First Round. I don't think she was in the castle either."

"I dunno," said Ron carelessly. "Probably somewhere throwing a fit. She hates to lose."

Ginny wouldn't have liked what happened next. Hermione was making a run through the older champions. Doing things with a wand nobody had ever seen. Winning the tournament as a bloody first year. Ron smiled.

Dumbledore was getting old, but Hermione would be Magical Britain's next protector. As long as they had those two, he knew everything would be alright.

"No, no!" Harry whispered. "Not again."

And suddenly Harry was sprinting back to the castle like he was in a trance. Ron did his best to follow him. Squawking behind him, why the bloody hell was Nev bringing a rooster? Whatever, didn't matter. Ron pulled out his wand, as Harry sprinted to The North Tower like his life depended on it. Had Ginny? Where was Ginny? He should've told Dumbledore! No, no, no! His heart hammered in his chest. Let it be something else! Let it be someone else! Anyone! Please be a coincidence! Get there in time! Get there in time! Let everything go back to normal!

They heard a high-pitched scream.

Too late.

Then silence.

XOXOXOX

After Hermione had made short work of the Fourth Year Champion, she was accosted by an old man.

"Barnabus Cuffe," said Mister Cuffe. "Of the Daily Prophet. Mind taking a moment to answer a few questions? Rita Skeeter has been missing for about seven months. She was last seen in Hogwarts."

…Hermione's stomach didn't twist. There was no twinge of discomfort in her gut. Nothing… She felt nothing…

…What if she just came clean? Getting away with murder had lost its luster. The guilt had never come, the questions were always the same, and her canned responses left little room for improvisation. Of all the things she'd expected from covering up a murder the last thing she'd expected it to be was monotonous. Surely telling the truth would be better than remaining at this dreadful school for even a momen- and spend her time on the run? One had to be practical when considering such things. It wouldn't be exhilarating escapes like in the movies, it would likely consist of hiding away, doing absolutely nothing for long stretches of time. Why, one criminal she knew of had spent more than a decade as a rat! And what if she got caught? She'd rot in a place that was designed to be miserable. On the other-

No!

Hermione shrugged. "We spoke a few times, but your guess is as good as mine."

"And Gilderoy Lockhart?" Asked Mister Cuffe. "He's been missing for a few months. Some of the students have said you were close."

"He could be frozen in Siberia for all I know," said Hermione. "Lots of teachers see me and see a perfect apprentice to mold. Mister Lockhart saw me like that. He won't be first and he won't be last, but I've no insight into his character. Is that all?"

Mister Cuffe smiled. "I didn't go to school with Albus Dumbledore, but I did see Tom Riddle's skill as a first year. You remind me of him. He was Slytherin too. I learned later on that he was a halfblood, but he had Abraxas Malfoy convinced he was a muggleborn and that more like him were on the way. Looks like Riddle's prophecy is finally coming true."

Hermione scowled. Of course, such things were always obvious in retrospect. That was much better than what she'd come up with. Although to be fair she'd thought Slytherins to be nazis, and they'd hardly forgiven Albert Einstein his heritage for all his brilliance. If she'd known the Slytherins' racism ran so shallow she'd have never bothered joining their rubbish house.

"Looks like he was half right," said Mister Cuffe. "But you're not as good at magic as he was. You're better."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Perhaps. But it's hardly a fair comparison. I've a half century of societal progress on him. If he were attending Hogwarts now, Lord Voldemort would surely be even better than I am."

"Really?" Asked Mister Cuffe. "So was he right? Could anyone with a muggle heritage do what you can?"

"No," Hermione admitted softly.

"Then how can you do magic others can't? What's the secret?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that. I work hard. I study several times longer than most classmates. I always pay attention in class. But so do plenty of Ravenclaws, and most at least try to. Sustained concentration is at least partially an innate talent. I'm from a whole different world, with a whole different way of doing things which occasionally gives me an advantage. But again, so do others. I suppose I've always been different," Hermione said, shrugging. "All these things you find special, are just the way things have always been for me. In muggle schools I could always do things that other students couldn't. Things that adults found challenging seemed simple to me. Because…"

Hermione could barely find it within herself to continue. She'd come to a whole new world and she still heard the same things: 'Hermione you're so great.' 'You're so special.' 'You're so gifted.' She worked so hard for the adoration, and when she got it she felt nothing at all. Onto the next thing. Onto the next grand achievement. Onto something better. Chasing, chasing, chasing… At Eton. At the public school from before that, and the one before that, and the one before that. Chasing, chasing, chasing…

Nothing… There was nothing…

Perhaps she ought to have played the truant, tried being an underachiever for once. She'd never experienced a divorce before, it might have been fun. Too bad she was a coward. If she were brave she'd surely be whole. Or maybe if she was kind? Or maybe if she was…

…Of course, she ought to have been happy. She had fans now. Magic. A best friend too. Objectively, she had everything she could possibly want. She'd thought that would matter, but she was still just Hermione Granger. She tried to find Ginny in the crowd. She couldn't.

Hermione couldn't even bring herself to care. So Ginny wasn't watching? So her parents weren't watching? Who bloody cared? Ginny was Lord Voldemort's servant, that should have been ever-so-interesting, but instead Hermione found herself ambivalent. Ginny's darkness, her hidden evil, was descriptive to Hermione. Hollow. She simply didn't care.

She'd committed murder, she'd gotten away with it, and yet still she felt nothing. Numb. The world and the people in it were just so… so dreadfully tedious.

Talent. Intellect. Superiority. Many wanted what she had, and indeed she wouldn't part with it, but that was mostly for the privileges that came along with it. She found it logically incoherent to be proud of such things. She'd not earned them, she wasn't clever because she studied harder, it just came to her naturally, and she knew full well that being The Perfect Hermione Granger was nothing to be proud of. "...because I am a genius."

Nothing could ever get better. Nothing could ever be enough. Existence was pointless and therefore intolerable. She could only ever hope for distraction until her inevitable end. Brief moments of relief.

If only there was something to do! If only the Dark Lord would strike again! If only the Dark Lord would make a bloody move! She'd spent so much time polishing her witchcraft and for what? To make Mum happy? To make Dad happy? Please, they were just dentists, they could hardly even be considered doctors. Hermione could fix her teeth with a wave of her wand, and in fact had done exactly that! Not directly but through Madam… Er… What was her name again? The point was that if witches and wizards were allowed to use magic publicly, then Mum and Dad would be obsolete. Those hacks could hardly be considered doctors. And not even bothering to show up to their daughter's end of year coronation! They didn't love her. They likely didn't even like her, she was just a way for them to escape from their own mediocrity. If they actually cared, they'd have ignored the letters she sent begging them to stay away, and come to cheer her on. But what was one more trophy to them? Nothing, just a thing to be disposed of to chase after the next shiny object. Happiness was a distraction afterall.

If they actually cared… If they actually cared they'd have offered her back her Order of Merlin, they'd have tried to make her feel better, tried to tell her that she was more than her talent…

If someone like that existed, then she'd give anything to be wi- Dangerous thoughts Hermione… Think about other things…

And The Dark Lord was quite the wanker! Ungrateful bint! Hermione had worked so hard to set things up for him, she'd polished her witchcraft until she was the perfect puppet, and he wouldn't even bloody use her! Did he think she enjoyed sitting alone in a room lifting a pile of rocks! He'd better kill someone already, and prove himself to be the true scourge of the world. The true villain of her story! The true puppetmaster!

Because Hermione wouldn't wait forever. If Lord Voldemort refused to take his proper role as The Dark Lord, if he refused to make things interesting for her again, then…

Then she'd just have to do it herself.

XOXOXOX

"At last! At last! AT LAST! So hungry. For so long. Almost time to feed at last. Almost there! Almost there! ALMOST THERE! But no need to hurry, nobody knows… Nobody will even try to stop me… Nobody but Master can understand me."

He understood full well that it was likely a trap.

Harry sprinted after the voice, quickly leaving the quidditch pitch, doing the best he could to move through knee high grass. Even if Voldemort was trying to lure him somewhere, the threat was real. Ron and Neville followed after him, and Neville had brought along one of the roosters. It was throwing a fit, squawking and cawing furiously, but he could still hear the snake.

"Closer, closer. I can smell the prey… At The North Tower. So close, so close, so clos-Too loud! Like trumpets in my ear! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

Harry waded through the grass, tripped, and scrambled back up, pushing aside overgrown stalks as quickly as he could. The voice was different from the one he'd heard months before, so maybe, just maybe, he could get there in time and sav-

A high-pitched scream.

Then silence.

Harry finally made it through the fields, and near the rocky base of The North Tower was the largest snake he had ever seen. It was absolutely massive, dark green with lighter green spots. It released a student from its fangs, regarded Harry for a moment, and slithered towards them.

"Diffin-" It felt as if his forehead were splitting open. He collapsed, only able to see the snake swallow Neville's rooster whole.

"Greetings Chosen One," said the snake, winking and slithering off. "I'd say it was a pleasure, but you interrupted my supper. Not to worry, it was rather fowl."

Harry scrambled up the hill to the student, but the student's blood made the rocks slick. The student's wounds weren't thick, two little puncture holes smaller than a snitch, but blood pulsed out from them in rhythmic waves.

"No, no, no," Ron cried. "Not you."

He tore off a piece of his cloak, and tried to cover the wound, but the blood just seeped through the fabric.

Dumbledore appeared behind them, rubbing his beard. "And so it begins at last."

A man with straight-silvery hair pushed past them all. "Reparo! Reparo! No! Why isn't it working? What manner of witchcraft is this Albus? What have you done? What have you done to my son?"

Dumbledore gently put a hand on the man's shoulder, and knelt beside the student.

The most powerful wizard in the world murmured some words, bright light burst from his wand and swirled around the student's puncture wounds. They didn't close.

Nothing Dumbledore tried worked. The bleeding wouldn't stop.

The Heir of Slytherin had struck again.

And Draco Malfoy was bleeding to death.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This is the true start to part 3, and the beginning of a narrative avalanche that won't stop until the end of the story. Hopefully I'm not telegraphing too much, but please keep speculation to a minimum until a certain reveal which you'll know when you read it. Hermione might have seemed OOC, but hopefully the bonus chapters showed her beginning to spiral.

Part 1 - Hermione's crush on Ron begins to the capture of Peter Pettigrew. Dumbledore's plan is finalized. Voldemort's plan is finalized.

Part 2 - Skeeter's introduction to Barty's death. Hermione's plan is finalized.

Part 3 - The scramble for The Philosopher's Stone begins in earnest. Hermione, Dumbledore, and Voldemort's plans are all set into motion. The difference between parts 1 and 2 is that in these parts Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Hermione are positioning their truths and strengthening their connections. In part 3 the troops go off to war.

And now onto the reviews.

Ncm619 - What is A03? I've brought some of the story onto Archive of Our Own, but that's the only other fanfic site I'm aware of. Thanks for the review!

ViviTheFolle - Yeah, I agree. Parenting seems pretty hard. Do you treat all the kids the same, do you treat them differently? While Ron's situation is exaggerated, I don't think it's uncommon for one child to feel less talented, and no matter how the parents handle it the child will probably be hurt. Shout out to any parents out there, do your best! And yeah, the way Ginny wins Harry's heart is absolutely awful, so be prepared… Thanks for all the reviews!

Merendinoemiliano - Follow Voldemort's reasoning, what he values, and what you know about history. See where it takes you, and you'll get some insight into his character. Thanks for all the reviews!