A decided creature of habit, Hermione Granger always struggled the first night back at Hogwarts. The train ride that Friday had been fun, as always. She'd had Harry and Ron to keep her company, both of whom were in excellent moods, laughing loudly as they played exploding snap. They'd even convinced her to set down the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four and play a few rounds with them. She'd gotten to see familiar faces, some friendly and some decidedly less so (if she never saw Draco Malfoy again it would be too soon). But all in all, she couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness she always had when she walked into the Great Hall for the start of a new year.

Settling herself at Gryffindor table, she watched as her friends one by one forgot about her. Ron began a heated discussion with Dean Thomas about the World Cup. Harry was roped into a discussion with Colin Creevey of all people, and Ginny had settled much further down the table with the rest of her year mates.

Glancing up at the ceiling, she watched, mesmerized for a moment, as lightning forked across the hall and illusory rain thundered down only to disappear in the rafters. It seemed to capture her mood and paint it in glorious, troubled colors.

She barely paid attention to the sorting. Being sorted as a first year had been terrifying and thrilling and everything she'd ever wanted her first real dose of magic to be.

Watching during her second year had been exciting as she stared at the students and wondered if she'd make friends with any of them.

She hadn't.

Her third year she'd tried mightily to watch with the same enthusiasm, but could admit that her heart wasn't in it. Now, as a fourth year, she found she couldn't summon up much feeling at all. She just wanted to settle into her dorm and lose herself in a good book.

On top of it all, she was still struggling with the revelation that all the food in front of her was made by slaves. SLAVES. And no one else seemed to care. That literal slaves were employed at Hogwarts. By the hundreds, apparently. Made to cook and clean and never be seen. Never get a day off. Never get to leave and travel the world or even take a day to rest. It was savage, inhumane. They were sentient beings, capable of complex thought and emotions. For heavens sake, Muggles treated their pets with more respect and dignity than wizards treated their elves. But here it was expected; private treatment of your slaves was kept private. And, like in the case of Dobby, if that private laundry was aired, it was expected that everyone else pretend it was normal, because the elf was your property and you could do what you liked with it.

Everyone's treatment of poor Winky the night of the World Cup kept replaying in her mind. Mr. Diggory's savage excitement at the idea he'd get to punish the tiny elf was unsettling. Elves weren't human, and wizards apparently had decided that meant they were less than. Inferior beings undeserving of basic rights. Hermione shoved down the tiny voice that whispered "inferior beings like you," trying not to give that little voice reign to ruin her whole night.

Stabbing viciously at an asparagus spear, Hermione contemplated what she was supposed to do with this new information. Her initial reaction, of course, had been to turn up her nose at every piece of food on the table. But a one woman hunger strike was hardly going to make a difference to anyone, and was likely only to earn her ridicule from the very people she wanted to win to her cause.

But what was her cause, exactly? House elf rights—that part was obvious—but she knew enough about history to know that nebulous, undefined movements rarely generated any steam. She'd need a goal, probably several, and an action plan. She'd also need money. Campaigning against such a popular and lucrative social norm was going to be expensive. She'd have to visit the library the first chance she got. Surely she could research the methods used for other slave emancipations and cross-reference them against magical beings' rights in the UK.

Her thoughts were derailed when Ron finished off his third piece of treacle tart, leaned his elbows on the table, and gave Harry and Hermione a significant look. "Have you two checked out the new professor at the table? He's sitting next to Snape. Not sure which one looks scarier, actually."

Hermione had noticed the strange wizard, with his prosthetic eye and his peg leg. He'd been eyeing Professor Snape all evening with something like malevolent glee. The Potion's Master, meanwhile, seemed determined to ignore his very existence and looked even grumpier than usual.

"Any idea who he is?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded, looking pleased that he got to be the bearer of news for once.

"That's Mad Eye Moody. Used to be an Auror, but he's been retired a while. Dad thinks very highly of him. I hear he's a bit off his rocker, though. Charmed his dust bins to attack people. Dad had to go sort some of it out just before the World Cup."

Dumbledore stood to address the hall, and the whole mood of the students picked up. There'd been so many allusions to some sort of excitement happening this year and Hermione figured everyone was hopeful that they'd finally be let in on the secret now that term was starting. She felt her mood beginning to lighten. Harry good-naturedly elbowed her and grinned, already much more excited than she was.

Dumbledore raised his hands in a placating gesture, and a hush fell across the students.

"Welcome. Welcome one and all to another year at Hogwarts. Now, our school is going to look somewhat different this year. Starting tomorrow, we will be playing host to forty additional students from the prestigious institutions of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. As such, we'll be making several adjustments here at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore paused, seemingly delighted as the hall erupted in barely-hushed whispers.

"Are those other schools?" Harry asked, turning towards Hermione. She nodded.

"Beauxbatons is in France, I think," said Ron. "Mum doesn't think very highly of them. Says they're too fancy by half. And don't have the brains to back up their high opinions of themselves."

"Well that's just mean." Hermione couldn't imagine why Mrs. Weasley would have such strong opinions about a foreign school she'd never been to. Although she could admit that Mrs. Weasley had strong opinions about many things.

"What about Durmstrang?" Harry barreled forward, determined to get as much information as possible before Dumbledore continued.

"They're in the north somewhere. Very secretive. I read that they had quite the poor reputation actually: it's rumored that they put quite an emphasis on the Dark Arts." Hermione supplied. She couldn't imagine why Dumbledore was hosting a bunch of dark wizards. Obviously, something she didn't understand was going on.

"Going to be an interesting year," Harry murmured as Dumbledore again raised his hands for quiet.

"Now, I imagine you may be wondering why we're being joined by some of our mainland colleagues. I am pleased to announce that this year, Hogwarts will be hosting the first Triwizard Tournament in many centuries."

The twins exploded in excitement and their exclamations made the whole hall giggle. Dumbledore smiled indulgently.

"Indeed, it's a very exciting time to be at Hogwarts. The Triwizard Tournament is an ancient competition between the three largest and oldest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. One champion from each school will be chosen to compete in a series of three challenges testing their ingenuity, their magical ability, and—perhaps most importantly—their nerve. During the year, contingents of both visiting schools will live and study with us. They will take some of their classes with our esteemed professors and they'll eat here in our hall. I expect all of you to offer them a warm welcome and to help make them feel at home here at Hogwarts.

"To further magical understanding and foster friendships between our schools, there will be three additional classes offered for third years and above. These classes are optional, will be up to two hours a week, and will not have exams. Those interested may sign up in their common room this weekend. For Hogwarts, I will be returning to teaching. Should you sign up for my class, you will be learning the basics of Alchemy."

Several cheers went up around the room, especially from the Ravenclaws, who looked delighted at the chance to take additional classes. Dumbledore smiled.

"A professor from Beauxbatons shall be offering two classes, one for years three through five and one for years six and seven. Both are entitled 'Practical Magic' and shall cover a wide range of topics. Finally, our contingent from Durmstrang have taken on the challenge of reinstating the Dueling Club."

Everyone at the Gryffindor table near them shared rather impish grins. They all remembered how the last Dueling Club had gone. Professor Snape, arguably the most hated person at Hogwarts, had become a momentary hero as he happily blasted Professor Lockhart straight off his feet.

"Before I release you all for the evening, I will end on the unfortunate note that the reinstatement of the Triwizard Tournament has necessitated that the Quidditch season this year be canceled."

Harry gasped. Quidditch was undoubtedly his favorite part of being a wizard, after all. Hermione tried to sympathize by considering that she would likely feel the same way if the library had closed for the year. It didn't make her really understand any better than she had, but it did keep her from audibly scoffing at Harry and Ron's distress.

"With that, I shall bid you adieu for the night. I shall be giving you more details about the Tournament tomorrow evening, when we shall share a grand feast with our new students."

=/=/=

Hermione nearly skipped over to the sign-up sheets for the new classes and immediately put her name down for all three.

"I can't believe we have the chance to learn the fundamentals of Alchemy from Professor Dumbledore! He studied it under Nicholas Flamel, himself."

"Yeah, Hermione. We know. We kinda saved the philosopher's stone, remember?" Ron eyed the sign-up sheets dubiously before signing up for Dueling. "Should I put your name down for Dueling, Harry?"

"Definitely!"

"That's all you two are taking? What about Alchemy? Or Practical Magic?"

"Practical-schmactical. What practical things are the Beauxbatons going to teach us? How to press our dress robes?" Ron seemed to think this idea a great laugh.

Knowing a lost cause when she saw one, she turned to Harry. Of the two boys, he was the more academically inclined. Although that wasn't perhaps saying much.

"Come on, Harry. Maybe this is our chance to learn all the things we'd have learned if we were raised magical. All the practical things Hogwarts doesn't think to teach." Harry still looked unconvinced. "Besides, it doesn't have exams. And it's just two hours every Monday evening. And you'll have plenty of time for more important things now there's not quidditch."

Harry's face fell, and she immediately knew she'd put her foot in it. Although she didn't really understand why. It was true: he didn't have quidditch this year.

"I'll think about it." Harry mumbled as he turned to head up to his dorm. Hermione watched him go and sunk onto a plush couch as soon as Harry and Ron were out of sight. Letting her cheek fall heavily into her palm, she wondered why she was destined to always say the wrong thing. She was just so excited about these classes. And she wanted to share that excitement with her friends. But like always, she'd mucked it all up and pushed her friends away instead. Why oh why could she only understand people's reactions after she'd gone and put her foot in it?

The cushion next to her dipped as someone sat down.

"Hi Hermione. Didn't get to see you on the train."

She looked up and smiled tiredly. "Hi Neville. How was your summer?"

She listened as Neville began telling her story after story of all the plants he'd cultivated over break. Apparently, his gran had given him a book on magical plants of the Mediterranean and Neville had immediately become fascinated. Each plant he described seemed slightly more fantastical than the last, and Neville seemed to calm and enjoy himself as he went on, his gestures getting bigger and more emphatic as the stories continued.

Hermione was always surprised by how much she enjoyed talking to Neville. He wasn't particularly confident or outspoken, and he was abysmal at so many of the magics she enjoyed, but he was a genuinely kind person. When she stumbled her way into a verbal trap and said things that came off twisted and bossy and mean, he would just watch patiently as she untangled herself. And he never seemed to take her awkwardness or her bossiness personally. If only Ron could treat her like that.

"Safe to assume you've signed up for all the new classes already?"

"Yes. I'm especially excited about Alchemy. Which classes are you going to take?"

"Well, I was thinking Practical Magic. Maybe Dueling, but I don't think I'd be very good at it. And I'm a little worried about learning from a Durmstrang professor."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you know about Durmstrang? I've not found much information on them before. Just that they're, well, dark."

Neville nodded. "Gran knows some people who went to Durmstrang. They don't have the same attitude about the Dark Arts as we do. They even teach it as an elective. Or at least they did when she was our age."

"Why are they coming here, then? Dumbledore could hardly condone dark magic users in the school, could he?"

"I dunno. Maybe he wants to convert them or something?"

"Like magical missionaries," Hermione giggled, her tongue just sticking out between her teeth. If she'd been paying better attention, she'd have noticed the blush spreading across Neville's cheeks.

"A magical what?" Neville cleared his throat slightly.

"Oh. Muggle religions sometimes send people to go and convince other people to join their religion. They call them missionaries. It used to happen all the time, but it's less common now. That's why so much of South America is Catholic: because of Catholic missionaries."

"Huh."

The common room clock chimed the hour, startling her. She hadn't realized how long she'd been talking with Neville. She glanced up at the staircase. "I should get to bed, it's getting late. And we've certainly got an exciting day tomorrow."

Neville smiled. "Yeah, it'll be fun to see all the new students. I wonder where they'll sit for meals?"

Hermione hadn't thought about that. "I don't know. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

After saying their goodnights, Hermione climbed the stairs to her dorm room, trying her best to move quietly since Lavender had already gone to bed. It was certainly going to be an interesting year.

=/=/=

The whole school was simply abuzz with the anticipated arrival of the foreign students. Even Harry and Ron, notoriously late-sleepers on the weekends, were up early for breakfast. The incoming students were all anyone could talk about as they breakfasted on mounds of toast and rashers of bacon.

Ginny plopped down onto the bench next to Hermione and deftly snagged a scone off her brother's plate. With a sly smirk on her face, she leaned in towards Hermione and whispered loudly "first kiss wins."

"What?!" Ron shouted, nearly apoplectic. Ginny's responding giggle made it clear she'd gotten the hoped-for reaction from her brother.

Looking up at her brother and buttering her scone, she affected a confused look of innocence.

"Well, Hermione and I had a bet going—"

"We did not," interrupted Hermione, trying to put an end to whatever embarrassment Ginny was starting.

"—that the first one to convince one of the foreign students to snog us would get a galleon. Two if they succeed before Christmas." Ginny continued on, unperturbed by Hermione's obviously growing irritation.

"Who would want to kiss one of you?" Ron scoffed loudly, staring at the two of them in horrified bemusement. And something inside of Hermione broke. A little flame of hope, of self-confidence, that she'd been attempting to nurture all summer—poof!—went out.

It felt like everyone at Gryffindor table was staring at her. All of them. And they all knew exactly how pathetic she was for secretly wishing that Ronald Weasley would want to kiss her.

She got up from the table, abandoning her half-eaten piece of toast and muttering something about needing the library. As she left, the rush of blood pounding in her ears couldn't quite cover up the conversation that carried on at the table.

"But classes haven't even started," she heard Harry say, his voice confused and a little groggy.

Meanwhile "What's her problem?" was all Ron seemed capable of coming up with.

Footsteps followed after her, getting louder and louder before a hand caught her elbow just as she was leaving the Great Hall.

"I'm sorry. I just meant to have a little fun. I didn't think Ronald would be that—stupid about it." Hermione paused in the entry hall and looked over at Ginny.

"He meant it, though. Didn't he?"

Ginny's sad little smile looked like it was supposed to cheer her up, but it did anything but. "Come on, it's a pretty day out. Let's go sit by the lake and watch for the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students to arrive. The library will still be there tomorrow."

Despite her better judgement and an intense desire to wallow alone, Hermione let herself be guided out the doors and onto the grounds.

Neither girl said anything as they walked towards the lake. It was still early, but the day promised to be clear, sunny, and unseasonably warm. Last night's rain had left the whole world smelling clean and fresh and green. A light breeze rustled the leaves on the trees and the water of the lake softly lapped against the shore. Perching on a large boulder, the girls sat in companionable silence for several long minutes, their shoulders just touching.

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"You, an idiot? The smartest witch of her age? Doesn't bode well for the rest of us, then."

"Fine. Just pathetic, then."

"For what? Liking a boy? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Hermione did her best stifle a sob, her eyes watering and threatening tears. "He's never going to like me, is he?"

Ginny didn't seem to know what to say. She wrapped her arm around Hermione's shoulders and squeezed. "Maybe it's for the best. You two are always fighting. Maybe it's just not meant to be." The two continued to sit on the boulder, watching the breeze spread ripples across the water. The sun shone brightly on the lake's surface, and the unlucky geese who had made the lake their home were continually startled by the unusually playful giant squid. One goose squawked loudly and tried to take off, only to find itself held back by a tentacle wrapped around its foot. With a piercing honk it dove down towards the water's surface and was immediately released by the startled squid. Hermione chuckled watching the antics.

Wiping her face, she turned to Ginny.

"Does it look like I've been crying?"

Ginny squinted, furrowing her brow.

"A bit yeah. Maybe wait a little while to go back in?"

She didn't get the chance to respond. As she glanced back over to the castle, a great burbling noise began to come from the Black Lake. The geese erupted from the surface, honking angrily and the water began to—boil. She didn't know what was happening but it looked like it was boiling without steam.

The two girls stared at each other before turning their gazes back at the lake. The gurgling noise only grew louder and louder. Several other students who had made it onto the grounds after breakfast came running over. Hermione recognized Neville and Dean Thomas, as well as a couple of Ravenclaws in her year.

After a minute of a long, protracted sucking noise—like someone was desperately trying to dislodge a stuck plunger—something began to rise from the middle of the lake. First the tip of a mast, then a crow's nest complete with lookout. Higher and higher it rose until finally an entire ancient-looking ship gracefully sat upon the surface. They all watched, open mouthed, as people came up onto the deck of the ship. All of them looked huge, broad-shouldered and intimidating. With nary a moment's hesitation, they hoisted and released a gigantic gangplank that fell to the shore with a resounding thud.

The Hogwarts students stood on the shore as a contingent of twenty students and a small handful of adults began to descend the gangplank in pairs. All wore thick coats with plush fur around their shoulders and each student carried a large carved wooden staff. Their heads remained pointed perfectly forward, but Hermione could see that they were all glancing curiously about the grounds. Several looked up at Hogwarts castle, wide-eyed and nervous.

A tall man at the front with grey hair and a neatly trimmed beard was the first to step onto the shore.

"You," he pointed at the closest Hogwarts student, an older Hufflepuff Hermione didn't recognize. "Go tell Dumbledore that Headmaster Karkaroff has arrived with his students." His voice was faintly accented and definitely Slavic. This, then, must be the contingent from Durmstrang.

Hermione peered at them all a little curiously. Their cloaks were certainly intimidating, and she had no idea if the staffs were ceremonial or useful, but they didn't look dark. They just looked like students. Students far from home and uncertain what to make of their surroundings. She felt sorry for the ones stuck on the gangplank, since their headmaster didn't seem inclined to step aside and let them off. The ship bobbed and she watched a couple students grip each other's forearms for a moment so they didn't lose their balance and tumble into the lake. The squid, upset at the invasion, was menacingly waving a couple of its tentacles directly under the students, as if daring them to fall in.

A whisper began to make its way through the Hogwarts students. Just one word, over and over. "Krum." A tall, somewhat gangly boy right behind Headmaster Karkaroff straightened somewhat, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Was that really the quidditch player? She'd had no idea he was still in school. That was—well, rather impressive actually.

Ginny bumped her shoulder to get her attention. "We should head back to the Great Hall. I'll bet that's where they're going next. If we head up now, we could let everyone else know that Durmstrang's here. They'll definitely want to know. Especially Ron. He's got such a crush on Krum."

Hermione nodded. Ginny was right; it wouldn't be right not to tell the rest of the Gryffindors that one of the foreign delegations had arrived. Especially one that apparently included an international quidditch star. Even if Hermione could admit she really, really didn't want to talk to Ron right now.

If she'd turned to look back on her way to the castle, she might have noticed a pair of dark eyes watching her retreat.

But she didn't.

=/=/=

Ron was sprinting down the main stairs when Hermione and Ginny made it back to the entrance hall. Catching sight of them, he ran over, huffing and puffing like he'd run down every stair in Hogwarts. He probably had.

"We saw the ship arrive from the common room and ran right here. Harry's right behind me. He wanted to get Neville and the twins first. Tell me, is it Beaubaxtons or Durmstrang?" A petty, hurt part of Hermione noticed how badly his red, sweaty face clashed with his red hair.

"Durmstrang," Ginny provided. "And you'll never guess who walked off the ship."

"Who? Who? Wait. Don't tell me yet. I can see Harry on the stairs."

Looking up, she saw that Ron was right. Harry was trotting down the stairs, his pace much more sedate than his friend's had been.

"What's all this, then?" he asked when he reached them.

"They were just telling us that it's Durmstrang."

"And we were just about to tell you that apparently, Viktor Krum attends Durmstrang. And he's here."

"Krum. Can you believe it? Viktor. Krum. Here. At Hogwarts. Do you think they'll sit at Gryffindor table?"

Ron was over the moon. Even Harry was approaching orbit. Neither looked like they'd be coming back down to Earth any time soon, and all because a quidditch player had come to Hogwarts. Granted, he was a good quidditch player, but still. Just a quidditch player. Hermione's face heated at the memory of announcing such quite loudly in his very presence. Where he'd absolutely heard her. It still made her want to sink through the floor.

By the time the castle doors opened to let in the Durmstrang contingent, a huge crowd had gathered in the entrance hall. Professor Dumbledore sedately glided down the stairs, shaking his head in amused exasperation at his students.

"Now, now. I know everyone would like to get a good look at our friends from the north, but I daresay there's so many of you they won't be able to get through the doors. Move along to the Great Hall, if you will. Lunch should be served shortly and I'm sure our guests are hungry."

=/=/=

By the time dinner rolled around, the entire castle was humming with gossip and chatter. News of Viktor Krum's arrival had escalated the excitement to a fever pitch, and already clumps of giggling girls were desperately roaming the halls trying to catch glimpses of him. The boys, Ron included, were no better. Simply by going about her usual business, Hermione had seen the poor boy accosted by no less than twenty Hogwarts boys. At once. All wanting autographs and tips on how to do some quidditch move or other. She felt rather badly for him, for the attention seemed to make him decidedly uncomfortable.

It should have come as no surprise, then, that Ron made a fool of himself trying to get Krum's attention to join them at dinner that night. So great was his desire to sup with his hero that he bodily shoved Hermione to the side trying to make room for him. Shooting a glare at her friend, she was not-so-secretly pleased that Krum took absolutely no notice of Ron at all, although the commotion did seem to draw his gaze for a moment. Rather, he settled in at the Slytherin table with the rest of his classmates.

The Beauxbatons students had arrived significantly later in the day, their great blue carriage slamming down hard on the front lawn just as the sun was beginning to set. Lavender and Parvati had squealed in amazement at the giant horses that drew the carriage. Even Hermione could admit she secretly hoped they'd get the chance to study them in Care of Magical Creatures.

All in all, as the students settled into the Great Hall for the second feast in as many days, Hermione found her spirits lifted. There were new students, new classes, and even new food for the night. She purposefully filled her plate with dishes she didn't recognize: a fragrant stew of chickpeas and spinach, a small handheld meat pie, and a cold white soup with cucumbers. From the dessert plate, she snagged a golden-brown topless bun stuffed with what looked like cheese and dried fruit.

"What is that?" Ron asked, pointing to the cucumber soup, his mouth full of roast beef and potatoes.

"I've no idea, but it's very good. I think it might be made with yogurt."

"Huh," said Harry, staring at all the offerings before choosing steak and kidney pie with a heaping side of treacle tart. Boys.

Dumbledore stood up from his seat between the other two headmasters: Karkaroff and an exceptionally tall woman Hermione didn't know the name of.

"It is with great pride that I welcome our friends from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. I know that our students here at Hogwarts will do everything in their power to make them feel at home this year.

"And now, some explanations. The Triwizard Tournament will consist of three tasks: one each in November, February, and May. One student from each school will be chosen to participate by a neutral third-party. This third party will be introduced to you the weekend of Halloween, and will evaluate each applicant to choose the most worthy competitors. The selection will occur during our Halloween feast.

"Now, before you get too excited, after much deliberation, we have chosen to impose an age restriction on the tournament. As some of you may know, the Triwizard Tournament was abolished several centuries ago after it was decided that the student death toll had grown too high. These tasks will be dangerous, and while we will do everything we can to ensure the safety of our competitors, we have agreed that only those of legal age on October 31st may enter their name for consideration."

A significant number of Hogwarts students erupted in outrage, including Fred and George Weasley at the Gryffindor table. The foreign students seemed caught off guard, watching them with looks of confusion at the outburst.

As Fred and George continued to loudly proclaim that they'd be able to fool anyone into thinking they were of age, Hermione caught the eyes of a Beauxbatons girl at the Ravenclaw table. At the inquisitive eyebrow raise, Hermione shrugged ruefully and shook her head. The girl smiled back and seemed to bite back a laugh.

As the commotion slowly died down, Dumbledore continued to speak. "Classes shall begin on Monday. Our new students shall be taking their core classes here at Hogwarts, so I request that all of you aid them as they learn their way around our castle. Finally, in the spirit of inter-house unity and friendship, restrictions on eating at your house tables are lifted. Please feel free to mingle with your friends of all houses during meal times."

Ron's head whipped back up to stare at Krum again, whispering to himself about whether eating with the snakes would be worth eating with Krum.

Oh yes. It was going to be a most interesting year indeed.

=/=/=

Author's Note: A giant shout out to everyone who has read, reviewed, and liked this story. There was just a smidge of Viktor in this chapter, but I promise he becomes a main character in our story with the next chapter. Hope to see you soon!