In the morning, the campsite was hastily packed up with magic before they caught an early Portkey back to Stoatshead Hill. A very worried Mrs. Weasley ran out to meet them as they trudged wearily up the lane to the Burrow, today's edition of the Daily Prophet, complete with a picture of the Dark Mark, limp in her hands.
Back in the kitchen, Hermione prepared Mrs. Weasley a strong cup of tea (into which Mr. Weasley added a generous pour of Firewhiskey) to help settle her nerves. Despite Mrs. Weasley's protests, Mr. Weasley and Percy decided they needed to head into the office to help smooth over the situation from the Cup.
Harry, who had been unusually quiet all morning, suddenly asked Mrs. Weasley if Hedwig had arrived with a letter for him. Hermione looked at him curiously. He'd reluctantly mentioned over dinner two days ago that he was waiting on a response from Sirius. Was Harry somehow expecting Sirius to have information on what had happened last night? Making excuses, Hermione, Harry, and Ron went upstairs to Ron's attic room.
"Alright, Harry?" Hermione asked as soon as the door shut behind them.
"I wasn't sure how to tell you, but Saturday morning I woke up with my scar hurting again," Harry began.
Hermione gasped and bit her lip as she processed that information. Ron looked utterly gobsmacked.
Harry looked between the pair of them, his gaze lingering on Hermione expectantly as the silence stretched. When she didn't say anything, he raised his brows in surprise and continued.
"I had a dream about Voldemort. Him and Wormtail. I can't remember everything, but they were plotting to kill… well, me."
Ron, who flinched violently at Voldemort's name, spoke first. "It was probably just a nightmare, though, right?"
Harry rubbed his forehead, likely remembering the pain. "I dunno… seems odd, doesn't it? I have that dream, my scar hurts, the Death Eaters come out… and now the Dark Mark? And remember what Trelawney predicted at the end of last year?"
Another pause while Ron fidgeted with a string on the hem of his shirt.
"That does all seem like a rather large coincidence," Hermione finally said, choosing her words carefully. After what she'd seen last year, she knew that the events of last evening and Harry's scar hurting were no mere coincidence. It had rattled her more than she cared to admit. Shouldn't they have more time? She needed to impart the gravity of the situation and Voldemort's possible (near-certain) imminent return to Harry and Ron without revealing too much detail. She took a deep breath.
"Harry, I think you're right. We need to take all of these signs seriously. As much as I don't want to admit it, I believe You-Know-Who is going to return sooner than we think. Maybe only a couple years at most, based on how quickly this is all escalating."
"You mean you believe Trelawney?" Ron burst out. "Didn't you say she was an old fraud?"
"She is most of the time," Hermione said, letting out a derisive snort. "But you heard Harry describe how it was different this time. That was the same night Wormtail escaped. Even Dumbledore believes that she probably had a genuine foretelling."
"So you believe me?" Harry asked, looking relieved.
"Of course we do," Hermione reassured him, including Ron with a glance. Ron looked back at her doubtfully, but she knew he would get over his hesitation soon enough. Hermione had already had time to come to terms with this.
Ron's expression turned thoughtful. "Harry, why were you asking after Hedwig downstairs?"
Harry blinked once at the change of subject. "Oh, yeah. I wrote Sirius about my scar and I'm waiting for his answer."
"Good thinking, mate," Ron replied. "I bet he'll have some idea what to do."
They discussed where Sirius and Buckbeak might be hiding. Hermione figured that Sirius could be hiding on another continent entirely, and Hedwig probably just needed more time to return from such a long journey. Harry was consoled, but still seemed rather glum.
Without much to do besides wait, they decided to escape from their worries as best they could in the meantime. Harry and Ron began rounding up interested Weasleys for a game of Quidditch in the garden. Hermione dug The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 out of the shopping bags Mrs. Weasley had bought for her in Diagon Alley and followed, settling in the grass under a shady expanse of branches to watch the scrimmage. Crookshanks lounged nearby, his great yellow eyes keeping a vigilant watch for any sign of garden gnomes.
The last week of break went by in a haze of lazy days spent reading, playing chess, and watching the others play Quidditch. Not to mention eating three square meals a day, and hearty ones at that. It was a wonder she'd only gained a quarter-stone since she'd come to stay here.
During the quiet between meals or games, Hermione's mind kept flitting back to the encounter she'd had with Malfoy at the Cup. From any angle she looked at it, she continued to arrive at the same conclusions that she had the night it happened.
On the day they were set to return to Hogwarts, Hermione woke up to find rain sheeting down outside Ginny's window, and an extra bushy head of hair to contend with. She was just getting dressed as the flurry of activity began, nearly everyone dashing frantically around the house trying to collect last minute items to pack.
In the midst of it all, Mr. Weasley was called away urgently to put out yet another fire at work. After breakfast, a harassed-looking Mrs. Weasley stopped Hermione in the kitchen to ask for a reminder on using the telephone so that she could order Muggle taxis to take them all to King's Cross.
The taxis arrived soon after, and the remaining Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione crammed inside. Their Hogwarts trunks were stuffed awkwardly in the boot, and Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon had to occupy their owner's laps. Harry kept Hedwig's empty cage on his lap, too.
The journey into London was not a comfortable one, and Hermione received several scratches from a startled Crookshanks when a lorry driver honked nearby. She was relieved to get out at King's Cross, even if she did get drenched before making it under the eaves.
They slid through the barrier and emerged on platform nine and three-quarters. Hermione thanked Mrs. Weasley for having her to stay before climbing aboard the train, smiling gratefully at Fred when he helped her heave her luggage up and into the rack of an empty compartment.
She followed Fred back to where Harry, Ron, and George were still hanging out of the window, trying to hound Bill and Charlie into telling them what special event would be taking place at Hogwarts this year. As the train began a slow roll out of the station, Bill, Charlie, and Mrs. Weasley only smiled knowingly and waved, calling out vague promises to visit and wishing them all an exciting year.
"Wouldn't kill them to give us a hint, would it?" Ron groused as he and Harry followed Hermione back to their compartment.
They hadn't been sitting long when a familiar, drawling voice drifted down the hallway and through the compartment door standing ajar. Hermione heard it first. Had she run into Draco Malfoy this often before? Harry and Ron continued their speculation on the mysterious event happening at Hogwarts, not noticing her lack of attention.
"...sending me to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts. He and the Headmaster know each other well, and you know how father feels about Dumbledore." His voice was drifting closer. "Durmstrang only admits the best, and Dumbledore's such a…" he trailed off.
"Such a what?" Goyle's voice.
"Well, such a… Mudblood-lover, you know." Malfoy finished. "And—"
At that moment, Malfoy came level with their compartment and paused, noticing the compartment's occupants. He locked eyes with her, his posture going rigid.
Harry and Ron finally noticed Malfoy standing there, stopping their conversation to glare through the doorway.
Malfoy's mouth tightened briefly, but he never said a word. Hermione held his gaze evenly, unwilling to be the first to break away. Without sparing a glance for Harry or Ron, he wrenched his eyes forward and continued down the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him.
His voice started up again, glossing over his momentary hesitation. "And Durmstrang takes a far more sensible approach with the Dark Arts. But Mother didn't want me to go to a school so far away…" Malfoy's words faded as he moved out of range of her hearing.
"Tosser," Ron muttered, leaning back in his seat. "Probably too dim-witted to come up with anything insulting enough to say."
"Looks like he's still wary of Hermione if you ask me," Harry said with a grin. "Bet he's still miffed about Buckbeak."
Hermione got up to slide the compartment door shut.
"Maybe," she said with a small smile, responding to each of them. "Did you hear what he was saying about Durmstrang?" she asked, changing the subject as she sat back on the bench.
"What's a Durmstrang?" Harry asked, scratching his nose.
Hermione explained about the different wizarding schools, and the historic rivalry between them. Harry and Ron had a surprising lack of knowledge about other magical institutions, and the various ways in which they were concealed from Muggles and sometimes other schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were both enchanted to be unplottable on a map.
When Seamus, Dean, and Neville stopped by for a visit, the conversation veered towards the Quidditch World Cup. As she was wont to do whenever the Quidditch talk dragged on, Hermione eventually pulled out The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 again. This time she only pretended to immerse herself in its pages, unable to get the latest encounter with Malfoy out of her mind.
She wasn't exactly surprised that Malfoy was still insulting Muggleborns. One offbeat interaction between them at the Cup hadn't changed everything about him. Or likely anything, really. What did surprise her was his slight hesitation over the slur in the first place. Perhaps he had done some thinking since she last saw him after all? Either way, if he was even slightly more uncomfortable about throwing that word around, then all the better for it.
The train pushed onwards to Hogwarts, and Hermione took turns with Harry and Ron stepping outside the compartment so they could change into their school robes. As they pulled into Hogsmeade station, a distant rumble of thunder gave only a few minutes warning before a cold downpour began. Hermione made sure Crookshanks was covered and rushed behind Harry and Ron to the carriages. She did not envy the first years having to cross the lake in this weather.
The first evening back was eventful as usual, starting with Peeves waiting to pelt them with water bombs as soon as they arrived in the Entrance Hall. In the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat entertained them with a concise history of Hogwarts in song before performing its annual sorting duties. During dinner, Hermione was dismayed to learn that Hogwarts employed house-elves for cooking and cleaning, and couldn't believe she hadn't realised it sooner. She resolved then and there to make sure they were receiving pay for their work. Sick days and holidays, too. Even if she had to go to Dumbledore himself.
And Dumbledore, she was glad to note, had two very normal-looking hands at the moment.
Two events outshone anything else that evening. The first, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody, showed up late during Dumbledore's start of term announcements. Hermione had no trouble believing him an Auror of great repute; nearly every inch of him seemed scarred or otherwise missing entirely. He also had a magical eye that made her slightly sick to watch.
Once the students had settled after Moody's appearance, Dumbledore announced the second inciting affair: Quidditch was to be cancelled completely this year. Harry and Ron groaned loudly, along with half the student body. Ron looked especially sour, as he had planned to try out for the Gryffindor team this year.
Instead, Dumbledore revealed, Hogwarts would be playing host for the Triwizard Tournament. The tournament was an old competition between the three largest European schools of magic, being revived in a new, supposedly-safer iteration in order to continue the tradition of establishing ties between students of differing nationalities. There was another collective groan when Dumbledore divulged that only students already of age could submit their names to be school champion.
He finished by announcing that students from the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang schools would arrive in October and be staying at Hogwarts for most of the school year.
That must have been why Malfoy was bringing up Durmstrang on the train earlier. His father had contacts at the Ministry, and Ministry-classified information or not, Malfoy's father likely had no qualms about giving his son every informational advantage. Malfoy had probably known about the reinstatement of the Triwizard Tournament for months already.
Hermione reviewed her new schedule over breakfast the next day. The morning had Herbology first with the Hufflepuffs, then Care of Magical Creatures with Slytherin right after. She hoped Malfoy would leave Hagrid alone this year, especially considering Malfoy hadn't come off too well after the Buckbeak incident. She would see Malfoy again in the afternoon for a double Arithmancy lesson.
She paused, a forkful of sausage halfway to her mouth. Was she seriously planning her day around when she would see Malfoy?
It was only logical, she supposed. If she wanted to learn more about the events that would lead to the scene on the Astronomy tower, she had to learn more about him. The best way to do that would be to actually be around him, no matter how alarming the idea.
Hermione suddenly became aware of Harry looking at her, eyebrows raised at the fork she had hovering in midair. She shrugged and resumed eating. Ron was still busy shovelling his own breakfast.
Malfoy was thankfully quiet all through Care of Magical Creatures, apart from yelling loudly when a Blast-Ended Skrewt stung his hand as he lowered bits of frog liver into its box. She heard him muttering under his breath about why anyone would want a pet that could burn, bite, and sting all at once. Privately, she agreed.
She dashed off to the library after lunch to check on a few regulations having to do with house-elf ownership, and as a result was almost late to her first Arithmancy class of the year. When she entered, all but one or two other students were already seated and chatting with their friends. Her eyes immediately sought Malfoy and found him seated next to Theodore Nott, the only other Slytherin in the room. It wasn't a large class — only a handful of fourth years from each House took Arithmancy — so there were still plenty of seats to choose from.
Hermione was choosing a seat by herself as usual when a thought struck. She looked back towards Malfoy, now noticing a seat open to his left. Decided, she walked casually across the room and dropped into it, beginning to rummage through her bag for her textbook, quills, and inkpot.
Malfoy didn't notice immediately. Hermione held her gaze forward and her quill poised over her parchment, by all appearances eagerly awaiting the lesson to begin. In her peripheral vision, she saw Nott lean forward mid-conversation to look at her past Malfoy, then gesture in her direction. Malfoy turned around.
"Can I help you, Granger?" he asked with a cold voice.
She kept her attention forward, readying her inkwell for taking notes. She could easily picture the sneer twisting his lips.
"No, I don't think so," Hermione replied indifferently.
"Then what makes you think—"
"Shh," she cut him off. "Here comes Professor Vector."
He glared at her but kept silent. As the lesson began, Hermione watched Malfoy out of the corner of her eye. He was facing forward now, ignoring her as thoroughly as if she were on the other side of the room, but he couldn't quite hide the stiff posture that gave away his otherwise unbothered appearance. He must be seething on the inside at being unable to say anything more. She smiled inwardly at the thought.
Somewhere throughout the lesson, his anger must have given way to curiosity, for she caught him glancing in her direction on multiple occasions. He shook his head after one such occurrence as if he'd just realised what he was doing, scowled, and bent back over his notes, eagle-feather quill moving swiftly across the parchment.
Class finished after Professor Vector announced there would be no homework. As soon as the professor dismissed them and sat back at her desk, Hermione jumped out of her seat and packed up her belongings. Nott was giving her a strange look and Malfoy's pale head started to turn, but she rushed out of the room before either of them could say anything.
She repeated the same manoeuvre at every Arithmancy period for two weeks straight. It was the only class Hermione shared with Malfoy without Harry and Ron also present. Malfoy had given up trying to say anything after the third day, but he continued to watch her with narrowed eyes when she first sat and when she got up to leave.
Once she was sure he wouldn't acknowledge her presence, she spent the brief time before each class began trying to inconspicuously eavesdrop on his conversations with Nott. They never mentioned her in her hearing, and they kept their conversation blithe and superficial.
By the second week, Malfoy stopped turning when she entered. Hermione supposed he now wanted her to think that she was beneath his notice, but he still gave himself away by stiffening slightly each time she sat down. Nott continued to watch her progress, bemused, as she entered and left the classroom every period.
Hermione continued to keep her distance during Potions, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures classes, thoroughly ignoring him even when her table was adjacent to his. She'd had years of practice at ignoring Malfoy already. Even if she was still hypersensitive to his presence, she was careful not to let it show now that he was paying more attention.
One of the few times Hermione allowed herself to glance in Malfoy's direction, she caught him frowning at her with a puzzled expression. On the plus side, he seemed so preoccupied with her strange behaviour that he forgot to make most of his usual biting remarks towards her, Harry, and Ron.
Hermione's fifteenth birthday came and went. Harry had gotten her a book, Case Studies in Civil Law: Magical Creatures and Beings, Third Edition, presumably since she had discussed her plan to ensure the rights of house-elves at Hogwarts. Ron had given her a trinket box that was charmed to play a tinkling melody when opened. Hermione had thanked them both earnestly, giving them each a hug that had Ron's ears turning slightly pink.
One evening while completing their homework in front of the common room fire, Hermione decided to bring up a rather unpleasant subject. The niggling in the back of her mind was growing increasingly insistent, especially after the intense Defence Against the Dark Arts classes they had with Professor Moody.
"Harry, has your scar hurt again since you wrote to Sirius?" Hermione asked innocently.
Harry's mouth immediately twisted. Sirius's reply to Harry had shown up last week, and Harry blamed himself that Sirius decided it was urgent enough to return to the country. They were all nervous that Sirius would be caught and sent back to Azkaban, if not immediately subject to the Dementor's Kiss.
"No," Harry said finally. "It hasn't bothered me at all. No more dreams, either."
"Good news, mate," Ron said cheerfully. "That dream was bloody scary, that was."
Harry looked from Ron back to her. "Why do you ask?"
Hermione bit her lip, considering how she wanted to put this. "Well… I've been thinking. With everything that has happened recently, I think we're all agreed that You-Know-Who will return soon."
Ron winced as if she had actually said Voldemort's name. Harry just watched her warily.
She continued. "We need to be… prepared. Don't you think? Moody's classes have been a good start, learning about the Unforgivables and actually practising resistance to the Imperius curse. Not that I particularly enjoyed that, but it's rather… useful."
"So what are you getting at, Hermione?" Ron asked.
Hermione took a deep breath. "I think the three of us should start practising practical spells. Not just the defensive ones either. You-Know-Who has come after you three times already, Harry — it seems likely he'll try it again. And when he does, you know we'll be right there with you. I want us all to have the best chance we can at stopping him."
Harry looked thoughtful. "You mean you're not going to suggest we go to Dumbledore and let him handle it?"
She thought about that for a moment. "I think you should go to Dumbledore, too. Maybe he would have some insight about your scar. We don't have much to go on to prove that You-Know-Who will return soon—" which was not, strictly speaking, true "—but like Sirius said in his letter, Dumbledore already seems to be reading the signs by bringing Mad-Eye Moody out of retirement. In the meantime, though, it couldn't hurt to brush up on our duelling?" The last bit came out as a question.
"Sounds great and all," Ron said with a frown, "but I just don't know when we'll find the time. All the Professors seem to think our O.W.L.s are next week, and I'll never catch-up on this mountain of homework they've assigned, and that tournament thingy is starting soon…"
She gave him a level look and he trailed off.
"Well," Hermione said, sniffing primly, "if you don't think preparing ourselves to face the most evil wizard of our time is more important than school work and games…"
Harry broke in. "I think it's brilliant, Hermione. Even if my scar feels normal and the dreams stop, I'll feel better to be actually doing something."
She beamed at Harry. Ron looked abashed and Hermione felt a little guilty.
"To be fair to you, Ron, the homework level really has become quite alarming," she added. "We'll make sure to find time to practise that doesn't interfere with our school work. Or the tournament."
Ron gave her a grateful smile.
Hermione smiled back. "I'll look into some simple spells we could start with. Though eventually I'd love to learn to cast a corporeal Patronus like you, Harry. Maybe you could teach us?"
"Yeah, of course!" said Harry.
Feeling better for having convinced Harry and Ron about the necessity of preparing themselves for the future, Hermione settled back to continue working on her translation for Ancient Runes with Crookshanks curled up at her feet.
She, too, felt better for doing something with the information she had. They would all be better off for it in the end, even if what she saw on the Astronomy Tower never came to pass. And whether he liked it or not, Draco Malfoy was going to be better off for it, too.