Lower lip trembling, Hermione proceeded to tell Harry and Ron everything about the scene she'd witnessed on the Astronomy Tower nearly a year ago. She reluctantly included the things she had deduced from the experience, such as the imminent return of Voldemort, watching Harry's face darken ominously from where he leaned against the wall, arms folded and ankles crossed.
In contrast, Ron sat loosely on a nearby crate, looking at her as if he hardly knew her. She explained her reasons for keeping the information private as long as she did, pleading with them to understand, and reiterated her efforts to prepare them despite not telling the whole truth.
Sitting on the floor with her knees drawn to her chest, Hermione couldn't stop the tears that finally spilled over when she told them about her efforts with Malfoy. Ron scoffed loudly when she revealed how Malfoy had found her after his and Ron's duel in the Potions corridor and apologised. Harry's eyes widened fractionally when she admitted that it had been Malfoy all along who discovered the Bubble-Head Charm that Harry used during the second task. Hermione omitted a few small details that didn't concern Harry and Ron, namely the kiss he'd used to finally bring her out from under the Imperius Curse, but emphasised all the ways in which Malfoy had redeemed himself to her over the course of the year. How she believed he could truly change from the person they'd known, given enough time. How different he was already, thinking for himself for a change.
Ron made to interrupt her several times while she spoke about Malfoy and Theo, but Harry shushed him each time with a curt wave of his hand, for which she was grateful. It was easier to keep going, and Hermione felt curiously relieved to finally share her burden. Each explanation to Harry and Ron assuaged her conscience, no matter the consequences.
After she'd finished, a silence descended over the space, heavy and thick. The room was bathed in shades of orange as the sun continued its descent into dusk. She gave a final sniff, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, waiting for Harry or Ron to speak.
It was the mark of their shock that they now seemed at a complete loss for words. Hermione felt strangely small sitting under their scrutiny, wishing that anyone but her conscience could convince her she'd made the right decision. The way they looked at her did anything but.
Finally, Harry sighed, removing his glasses and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I can't pretend I understand some of this, Hermione. Especially the part where you couldn't trust us enough to help you."
Hermione barely stopped herself from physically recoiling at the sting of Harry's words, knowing he was right.
Ron jumped in then, as if Harry speaking first had given him permission. "I don't like it at all, Hermione. How could you choose Malfoy over me? I mean… me and Harry? Your best friends! Whatever you think might have happened this year, Malfoy is bad news, always has been. And Nott can't be much better, being a Slytherin and everything…"
"Ron," she said quietly, "I don't think that's fair…"
Harry was speaking again. "I also don't understand why you couldn't tell me what you knew about Voldemort. I mean maybe this would make more sense if you'd, I dunno… gone to Dumbledore or something—"
"And their fathers were helping You-Know-Who!" Ron interjected angrily, bringing a fist down on the overturned crate. "Helping him torture and try to kill Harry! How can you stand up for them?"
"But maybe if I'd known how close he was to returning, I could have stopped it," Harry was saying. "Or Dumbledore could have…"
Ron's voice continued to rise. "I mean, what if it was Malfoy who had you under the Imperius Curse all along? Oh bollocks, what if he still does?"
Hermione couldn't take it anymore. Her palms flew down to smack the wooden boards beneath her, causing a small cloud of dust to swirl.
"Stop! Both of you, stop it!" she shouted, effectively cutting off whatever each of them had been about to say.
She drew a shaky inhale, fixing them each with a level look. "I know this is a lot to take in right now. I know," she repeated, for Ron had opened his mouth again. He closed it with a glare. "Harry, like I told you, Dumbledore already knew Voldemort was getting stronger and that it was only a matter of time. Remember Trelawney's prophecy? And Crouch fooled Dumbledore, too. I don't think telling him would have changed anything. Ron, I know there is bad blood between yours and Malfoy's family, with good reason, but he's different than I thought. And he's trying. That has to count for something, doesn't it? That whole business about somebody being bad only because they're sorted into Slytherin is nonsense — just look at Theo. Also, did you forget Crouch admitted under Veritaserum to putting the curse on me?"
Harry and Ron stared at her, blinking owlishly. Finally, Ron grunted and tossed his head angrily.
"Right," he said tightly.
Hermione met Harry's gaze, and something shrivelled up inside her at the open hurt in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I lied to you both. I just… needed some time to figure things out."
Harry and Ron traded a long look and Hermione drew inwards on herself, awaiting their verdict. Ron's shoulders slumped when he finally looked away towards the far wall, mouth set in a grimace. Harry sighed and cast his eyes to the ceiling.
"I reckon if anyone knows what they're about, it's you, Hermione," Harry said, bringing his gaze to rest on her once more. "But you can't expect us to be chummy with Malfoy just because the two of you have some sort of strange truce. I mean, I suspected something was going on this year, but I never could have imagined anything like this. Whatever Malfoy is or isn't, his family still supports Voldemort. His father is a Death Eater. And whatever is going to happen in the future, Lucius Malfoy wants me dead just as much as Voldemort right now. I'd rather not make the job easier for him by trusting his son to do the right thing when the time comes."
Hermione nodded slowly, understanding Harry's predicament. She couldn't claim to have never once doubted Malfoy's motives in all this time, and it was one thing to experience the subtle changes in his character for herself, and quite another to be asked to believe it second-hand.
Ron mussed his hair roughly with a hand and leaned back against the wall. "If Malfoy is really going to be tasked with killing Dumbledore soon, shouldn't we be doing everything we can to stop him?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Harry.
Hermione hugged her knees even more tightly. "What else would you have me do, Ron?"
Ron looked at her sharply. "I dunno, maybe not go making friends with the 'wrong sort'?"
Harry's eyes flashed back to Ron, watching him warily.
Hermione let out a frustrated sound. "You're completely missing the point! Haven't you listened to anything I've been telling you? And in the vision, Dumbledore already knew. He specifically mentioned knowing about Malfoy's attempts all year. And seeing as it couldn't be this year, I thought I had more time!"
"Yeah," Ron snarled, "time to go and become obsessed with the world's biggest prat. Tell me, did you fancy him before or after you started making him your little project?"
"I do not fancy—" Hermione paused, mouth still open, unable to remember why she stopped in the first place. Oh, Merlin. Merlin's sodding pants. Did she fancy Draco Malfoy?
Ron glowered at her, eyes piercing into hers like awls. His lip was beginning to curl, no doubt in preparation to conjure up the most hurtful thing he could think of on short notice.
Harry, who had been looking between them with increasing alarm, pushed off the wall and cleared his throat quietly, attempting to draw their attention and diffuse the situation.
Ron refused to be deterred. "I wonder how Krum would feel about this," he said, sneering nastily. "Who knew there was some truth to those Howlers about you after all…"
Well, Ron hadn't disappointed. Hermione felt her mouth drop open as hurt and anger swelled inside of her. Harry passed a hand over his face.
Before she had a chance to consider her response, Ron lifted himself off of the crate with a sour grunt and stalked out of the storeroom. The door swung shut behind him with an unnaturally loud thud.
Hermione sat slack jawed, staring at the space Ron had just vacated in disbelief. After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Harry moved to sit next to her.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. Ron had no right to say that to you. It isn't true and he knows it." Harry slung an arm around her shoulders easily, squeezing gently.
Hermione sniffed once and leaned into Harry, grateful that he wasn't trying to make excuses for Ron. Surprisingly, her vision stayed clear. It seemed Hermione had already used up her allowance of tears for the evening. Once, she would have been distraught over Ron's furious outburst, but apart from shock that he could muster such cruelty, she felt oddly distant to the whole situation.
After a time, Harry made a thoughtful hum. "Hermione, have you ever thought that maybe by doing what you did this year, the future has already changed? That Malfoy won't be made to kill Dumbledore after all?"
Hermione frowned. "I… well, no. I never thought of that."
Harry continued. "I mean, it's only a theory. You once told me that it's one of the most important wizarding laws to not mess with time, because of the potential for awful things to happen. What if you were meant to see that to prevent something awful from happening? Surely if meddling with time can change things for the worse, it can also change things for the better."
Hermione bit her lip as unspoken questions began bunching up inside of her brain.
"Anyway," Harry said, "even if it doesn't change anything… Hermione, does he know? Does Malfoy know why you're doing this?"
"No," she said quietly, meeting Harry's gaze as evenly as she could. If she told Malfoy, he would likely be furious. If he believed her at all.
Harry nodded once. "Thank you, Hermione," he said softly. "Thank you for telling us now. Just… no more secrets like that, okay? I know it wasn't an easy decision, but now you don't have to go through this all alone."
Hermione beamed at him as she turned to fully embrace her best friend. Not knowing how to put her gratitude into words, she squeezed Harry until he grunted, and they broke apart laughing.
"I suppose we should get back inside the common room. It's getting late," she said finally, eyeing the small window where darkness had fallen. She stood then, carefully brushing the dust off of her skirts and robes. Harry stood, too, moving in front of her to hold the closet door open.
To her surprise, Hermione almost stumbled over Ron as she rounded the corner out of the doorway. She pulled up short while Ron scrambled up off of the floor, his ears burning almost as red as his hair.
"Hermione," Ron said quickly. "I didn't really mean it. It was all a lot to take in, you know? I'm sorry if I upset you. These last few weeks have been bloody mad."
She stared at him, waiting to see if there was anything else. Ron smiled tentatively at her, obviously thinking he had absolved himself with a few poorly constructed excuses. Hermione sighed.
"It's…" Hermione trailed off, biting back the 'fine' or 'alright' or some other variant of the word 'okay' that she didn't really mean. "It's behind us now," she finally settled on.
Ron nodded as if he expected nothing less, then grinned at her and Harry. "Let's crack on then, shall we?"
When they entered the common room, it took Hermione a few moments to remember why hushed whispers and furtive glances suddenly filled the space. A copy of the Evening Prophet peeking out from a pile of papers on a nearby desk brought her harshly up to speed.
Harry grimaced as if he too had forgotten his latest scandal in the midst of larger problems. He surveyed the room, tense and tight-lipped, apparently contemplating saying something, but Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"In the morning, mate," Ron said. Harry shrugged, glancing apologetically towards Hermione, and let Ron steer him to their dormitory.
The next afternoon, Hermione found herself sitting in the middle of the lawn under a sweltering sun. Hundreds of chairs had been conjured in rows to face a wooden platform, and she was currently squished between Lavender and Seamus somewhere in the middle of the crowd.
Cornelius Fudge, who had likely insisted on this ridiculous ceremony to save face, was speaking from behind a magnificent lectern embossed with the Ministry's official seal. To his left sat only a remnant of the judges that the Triwizard Tournament had started with: Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and, surprisingly, Percy Weasley. To Fudge's right, Harry was seated between Viktor and Cedric, with Fleur on Cedric's other side.
Sunlight reflected in flashes off of Harry's glasses as he fidgeted, tapping his foot impatiently on the dais. In comparison, Viktor sat comfortably, with an air of practised patience that undoubtedly accompanied having done this countless times before.
While Fudge blustered about the supposed success and prestige of the tournament despite everything, Hermione tried her best not to stare a hole in the back of Malfoy's white-blonde head. Ever since Ron's unfair (and possibly horrendously accurate) accusation in the broom closet about her feelings for Malfoy, Hermione had revisited every interaction she'd had with Malfoy in her mind, trying to unravel them.
Initially, her plan had been to befriend Malfoy enough to understand what would lead to the scene on the Astronomy Tower. She'd also wanted to give him a chance to redeem himself, and maybe rediscover the conscience he'd seemingly set aside during their first three years at Hogwarts. Whether helped along by her actions or realised through some other twist of fate, Malfoy had demonstrated meaningful change this year, and in her book, that brought some measure of success for the plan. In contrast, the part about uncovering details of Voldemort's imminent return had thoroughly gone to pot.
Through it all, Hermione had come to care for Theo and Malfoy as she did Harry and Ron. Perhaps she was just unused to extending these sentiments for someone she had profoundly disliked less than a year ago. Maybe she was mistaking a new, unlikely friendship for something more.
Hermione tore her gaze away to look over the rest of the crowd. The families of the champions were sitting in the front row. A dark-haired man and woman sitting on the end had to be Viktor's parents; his father had the same hooked nose. Next to them were Amos Diggory and his wife. Mr. Diggory took turns between watching Fudge, beaming at his son, and shooting disgruntled looks at Harry. Molly and Bill Weasley had come to support Harry, and Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George were sitting between them. Next to Bill was a portly little man and a voluptuous blonde woman who could only be Fleur's parents, confirmed by the fact that Fleur's little sister was seated next to her mum. For some reason, Fleur seemed to be staring hard in the direction of her parents.
A drop of sweat trickled down her brow. Hermione began to fan herself with a hand, her gaze drifting back to where Malfoy sat a few rows ahead between Zabini and Goyle. It wasn't the first time she'd been accused of having feelings for Malfoy. Theo had brought it up the first time they'd spoken directly, but that made sense — Theo didn't know the whole story, and it was the only logical explanation for why she suddenly became involved in Malfoy's life. Theo's opinion clearly hadn't changed, though. He often made odd comments or gave them odd looks that suggested he still thought there was something more involved.
It only added to her confusion that Malfoy had been treating her more as a friend than Ron lately. Malfoy, who had been the first person to ever call her a Mudblood, was being kinder than her best friend of four years. Whatever was going on with Ron this year, Hermione suspected that it was about something more than her wanting to extend her social circle.
Fudge stopped talking briefly to award a large sack of galleons to each of the champions. When Fudge came level with Harry, Harry visibly stiffened and Hermione wondered for a moment if he would refuse his winnings. Thankfully, Harry limited himself to a grimace and took the sack, immediately shoving it roughly under his chair. The crowd applauded politely as Fudge handed the last bag to Fleur and resumed the stand to give his closing remarks.
Hermione resumed her methodical breakdown of every facet of her relationship with Malfoy. How else was she to determine whether or not her feelings extended beyond friendship? She had left the worst… best?... for last; the kiss. Hermione had never doubted her attraction to Malfoy, and that much had been proven in the kiss-turned-snog where she'd lost her mind entirely. And she supposed she did tend to think of him a little more often than strictly necessary for a passing attraction. But being physically attracted didn't necessarily make them compatible, so why did she feel as if there was still something… more? It frustrated her that she couldn't put into words exactly what "more" meant.
A sudden round of applause snapped Hermione back to the present. Fudge was climbing off of the platform, and the students around her were beginning to stand, obscuring her view ahead. Hermione let herself be herded by the crowd towards the front doors of the castle, where a grand farewell feast for the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students awaited in the Great Hall.
Over her shoulder, she noticed Fudge headed for the school gates, followed by a few Aurors, his secretary, and Percy Weasley. When she looked back around, Hermione suffered a small shock to see Alastor Moody among the crowd, being given a wide berth by the other students. It seemed he had finally recovered enough strength to be up and about. She was glad for it, but it didn't take away the strangeness of the whole situation.
Sliding onto the bench at Gryffindor table next to Harry, who had already offloaded his sack of gold somewhere, Hermione greeted the six Weasleys beside and across from her. Bill, with his hair pulled back into a ponytail and his ear still adorned with some kind of fang, grinned at her. Mrs. Weasley, however, gave her a stiff "hello" and would barely meet her eyes. Taken aback, Hermione exchanged bewildered glances with Ginny on her other side. Perhaps there had been more than a simple oversight behind the minuscule Easter egg that Mrs. Weasley had sent for Hermione over the holidays.
When everyone had eaten their fill, Dumbledore stood to give a few final remarks. Between Fred and George's shoulders, Hermione glanced towards the Slytherin table. Next to Theo, Malfoy had his arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his chair as he watched Dumbledore with an air of boredom.
As if he felt her eyes on him, Malfoy suddenly turned his head and met her gaze. Hermione looked away quickly. And therein lied the problem with her entire analysis. Even if she did have burgeoning feelings, Malfoy didn't — and likely wouldn't — return them. He had been tactful about it, but he'd as much as admitted that he would rather pretend the kiss between them had never even happened.
The situation was hopelessly tangled. She was being silly, anyway. There were so many more important things to worry about right now. What was a schoolgirl's potential crush compared to the fate of the wizarding world?
Hermione turned her attention back to Dumbledore. As if Dumbledore had heard her last thought, he suddenly grew very sombre.
"As you all may be aware," Dumbledore said, "there have been countless rumours proliferating in regards to a certain article published yesterday evening." Harry's head snapped up from where he had been mindlessly tracing patterns on the table as Dumbledore went on. "I wish to clarify a few things, both for the benefit of those affected by name or by association within the article itself, and again for every single person in this room, who will have to confront the implications sooner or later."
"The article I am referencing, of course, revealed the return of the dark wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort. It is with my sincerest regrets I must inform you that that is the unvarnished truth. Voldemort has returned."
A collective gasp ran around the Great Hall, replaced immediately by the low hum of hundreds of people murmuring to each other simultaneously. Harry released a slow breath as he relaxed his shoulders, no doubt feeling vindicated by Dumbledore's decision to finally inform the masses. Mrs. Weasley looked as if she were about to be sick, but neither she nor Bill looked surprised. In contrast, Fred, George, and Ginny sat dumbly with their mouths hanging open.
Hermione couldn't stop a peek at the Slytherin table. She gave a small start to find Malfoy already watching her. He tensed when she met his eyes, but didn't look away. He held her trapped in his gaze as the room fell silent and Dumbledore continued.
"The Ministry of Magic does not see fit for you to have this information yet, but it is my belief that you have a right to know of the dangers you will soon face. On a different, but entirely related note, I must mention how this information came to light. Harry Potter was entered into the Triwizard Tournament on behalf of Lord Voldemort by none other than Bartemius Crouch Junior, the very same man who posed as our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor." Hermione shrank slightly as hundreds of eyes flashed in her direction in her peripheral vision, but kept her focus on Malfoy. "Harry Potter is in no way responsible for the cancellation of the tournament, but he is, in fact, responsible for the knowledge with which we now find ourselves armed. Harry managed to escape Lord Voldemort again, showing courage and bravery beyond his years, and brought with him the truth of the matter. For this, I thank him."
"Finally," Dumbledore said, "There are others who may find themselves cast in a less than positive light due to the provocative nature of the article in question."
Malfoy's eyes tightened infinitesimally before he finally broke his gaze away to regard Dumbledore with a cool, indifferent exterior. Hermione drew in a deep breath, both for what Dumbledore might be about to say and for her sudden, inexplicable feeling of release.
"I would urge everyone to remember that it is our actions that define us, ours and ours alone, and not the actions of anyone else, no matter who they are. I also encourage everyone to approach each other with open hearts and open minds, for unity will be our most important weapon in the difficult days to come. Let us reserve judgement, love wholeheartedly, and trust in the bonds of friendship, for who are we if we let fear, hatred, and self-regard destroy those things that are most important in life."
Dumbledore made a few final remarks on the honour of hosting the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students this year, but it seemed that the most important points had already been made. Hermione looked back down at the table, thinking over the last bit of his speech, when she noticed a solitary beetle sitting halfway hidden beneath Harry's empty dinner plate.
At once, a hazy memory surfaced of sitting in the library with Malfoy and Theo. They'd come to find her regarding an article Rita published questioning Harry's mental stability. Rita had interviewed Crabbe, and Malfoy had subsequently tracked Crabbe down to figure out how Rita was getting access to her information. Malfoy had been incredulous when Hermione hadn't responded enthusiastically to his discovery. What had he said about Rita's secret? Surely it couldn't be…
As if noticing her scrutiny, the beetle suddenly began scuttling out and away down the table. Without a second thought, Hermione shot out a hand to snatch up her empty water goblet and overturned it on top of the beetle with a loud thunk.
Harry and Ron gave her questioning looks, and everyone else in the vicinity eyed her as if she had gone mad. Keeping a hand firmly on the base of the goblet as she dragged it back across the table, Hermione slowly shook her head, mouthing the word 'later' towards Harry.
If she turned out to be wrong, she would set the beetle free outside, no harm done. If she turned out to be right, well… that was another thing entirely.
At Dumbledore's dismissal, the Great Hall brimmed with motion as everyone mulled about, either saying their goodbyes to those who would be leaving in the morning or discussing Dumbledore's announcement. Hermione kept her goblet in hand, her palm pressed tightly over the opening.
Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry. "Harry, dear, would you care to give us all a tour?"
"Mum, you realise we go to school here, right?" Fred piped in. George let out a snort and Ginny snickered behind a hand.
Mrs. Weasley waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, but I haven't been back here in ages, and it's been several years since Bill graduated, too. You would like that, Bill, wouldn't you? Bill?"
Bill, who had been mid-conversation with Fleur near the Ravenclaw table, looked around. "Sorry, mum, what did you say?"
"A tour, dear. Wouldn't you like to see the castle again before we head home?" Mrs. Weasley eyed Fleur up and down. Fleur sniffed once and tossed her long, silvery hair over her shoulder.
Bill smiled. "Sounds great. I'll be right along." He turned back to engage Fleur, who smiled at him widely. Mrs. Weasley frowned, then regathered herself.
"Wonderful. Come on everyone, it will be fun to go around as a family," she said, looking around at Harry and her children. Her gaze conveniently skipped over Hermione.
Ginny, bless her, noticed the lapse. "Yeah that sounds great, mum. I'm sure Hermione would love to show off the library. She knows it best, after all."
"Of course," Mrs. Weasley replied, smiling tightly at Ginny.
"Ah, thank you," Hermione said quickly, pretending not to see Ginny's furrowed brow, "But I'm afraid there is something else I must attend to this evening."
Like figuring out whether or not she currently had a rogue reporter trapped in a water goblet.
"I'll see you all later, though?" she said, raising her eyebrows significantly at Harry.
Harry smiled faintly, nodding once to show that he understood. "Yeah, we'll meet you back in the common room."
Ron looked between her and Harry as if he'd missed something, but Mrs. Weasley herded the group out of the Great Hall before he had a chance to say anything.
Still enclosing the opening with a palm, Hermione shoved the hand with the cup under her robes and made for the Entrance Hall. She started down the first deserted corridor she found, mind working furiously. Where could she go? If this was Rita, she needed to speak with her privately. Hermione was fairly certain she remembered the incantation for the spell to reveal an Animagus, but she had only seen it in practice once, when Sirius and Lupin used it on Pettigrew. And she hadn't exactly been paying close attention at the time.
"Stealing the tableware now, Granger?" drawled a voice at her shoulder. Hermione couldn't help the shiver that rolled down her spine before she spun around.
"Merlin, Malfoy, you gave me a fright," she gasped, feeling her heart pounding beneath her fingertips. Thankfully she hadn't dropped the glass.
Malfoy smirked at her. "I noticed your stunt with the goblet — I mean, half the room did, you were quite obnoxiously loud about it — and when you didn't go with Potter and the Weasels I wondered if everything was alright."
"Weasleys," Hermione corrected absently. "Yes, I'm alright. Actually… here." Before she could overthink it, she grabbed Malfoy's hand and led him towards the nearest empty classroom she could find. He didn't say a word, but he followed along easily enough. His hand was surprisingly warm; she supposed he only looked coldblooded.
She came to a stop in front of a plain door with a plaque bearing the words 'Classroom Eleven'. After a pause, Hermione dropped Malfoy's hand to reach for the handle. It brought a small measure of relief, for while they were in contact, her hand had begun to feel a strange tingling sensation, not unlike having a limb fall asleep. She felt the loss of his warmth in more than her hand, though.
Opening the door, Hermione was pleased by the sight that greeted her inside the classroom; a thin layer of dust covered everything, with several desks and chairs strewn carelessly about the floor. This room obviously didn't get much attention. When Malfoy entered behind her, Hermione immediately turned and locked the door.
"Granger, what are you—" he started, raising a pale eyebrow at her that she could barely make out in the darkness.
She cut him off. "I think I've caught Rita."
"What do you mean, you've 'caught' her?"
"A few weeks ago, you told me that Rita was an unregistered Animagus, right? Do you know what form she takes?"
Malfoy muttered something and a ball of light bloomed above them, throwing his sharp features into relief.
"A bug, I think Crabbe said," Malfoy then replied, tilting his head.
"That's it," Hermione said excitedly, the pieces flying together in her mind. "I'm certain of it. Oh, this all makes sense, now! After the second task, Ron found a beetle in my hair. That's how Rita knew I would be in Hogsmeade with Viktor. While I was in the Three Broomsticks, I saw another beetle near my table. I always wondered how Rita got exact quotes for that article! And a beetle would be small enough to hide in the Divination classroom, which is the only way she could have personally witnessed Harry's collapse several weeks ago. Then at dinner tonight, I noticed a beetle hiding out under Harry's plate!" Hermione said all this very quickly, feeling confident in her findings. She withdrew the goblet from under her robes.
"Granger," Malfoy said slowly, perching on the edge of a nearby desk. "Surely you haven't got…" he trailed off, pulling at the green-and-silver tie around his neck as he eyed the goblet in her hand.
A slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, yes. I have."