Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 24
A/N: Alright, here we go. A nice boss battle for Hermione to flex off the training and experiences we've painstakingly watched throughout the years. Sorry to say that yet again, the goblins stole the story. I'm officially two chapters behind on my outline, but hey, this is for fun anyway!
April 25th, 1992
Beyond the declaration, there was a flurry of activity. The attendant goblin rushed from the office, presumably to spread the word, and Gorlug ordered Wudrok to take them to the arena and prepare them for the first trial while they gather volunteers.
"Volunteers for what?" Hermione asked, alarmed by what she'd signed up for.
Wudrok glanced at her, canting his head in puzzlement. "I would feel sorry for you, Miss Granger."
"Thanks, I think?"
The, essentially, condolences from a rather ruthless species notched up her concern.
"Come, I will take you to the arena preparation rooms for you to discuss strategy with your Goblin Spokesperson." He paused. "Although, I would take you the secret way to avoid more goblin secrets being spilled."
Before she could ask, he reached up and touched a pointy nailed finger to the inside of her palm, uttered a harsh word that the translation magic couldn't interpret, and then cut into her skin.
She didn't even have time to see the blood well before she dropped into unconsciousness, a shouted but vague, "Miss Granger!" chasing her dreams.
When she came to, she was flat on her back on compacted earth. A chill had gathered in her bones. As her brain caught up to the most recent moments in her life and confirmed that they weren't some elaborate dream, she sat up.
"Miss Granger?" Flitwick's voice shouted, concerned. "Miss Granger!"
"Over here, professor."
Flitwick's short stature rounded a half wall sculpted from rounded rock. In fact, the entire room seemed to resemble a locker room of sorts, straight off the set of the Flintstones with all the furniture being formed with the very rock the area had been carved from. "Thank goodness you're alright."
"What are the Trials?" she blurted, getting right to the heart of the matter.
Another voice joined them, Wudrok. "You would engage in three fights, two with volunteer goblins, and one with a magical creature. You would win all three to earn your ranks within the horde. After that, goblins wishing to outrank you will be able to approach and challenge you to a fight, where you would accept and win to keep your place or lose. A forfeit will also drop your status within the horde."
"Oh," Hermione breathed leaning back against the wall. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because, I would feel bad for you if your only hope was with this half-breed."
Her energy cackled, and sparks lit her curls. "I would ask you not to insult the man that only wished to protect me from your archaic laws." She took a deep breath to center herself. "But, I would be indebted to you for your help."
"No!"
Hermione jolted at Flitwick's harsh interjection, but Wudrok interrupted with a rapid, "I accept your terms. It would be done."
Flitwick collapsed to the ground beside her, giving her a frown. "You're subtracting years from my life, Miss Granger."
She cleared her throat. "Did I make a mistake?"
Flitwick considered Wudrok before them. "It's too soon to tell, but also too late to change anything, so we'll concentrate on the task at hand and take advantage of this unexpected source of information."
Wudrok took that as his cue. "The rules of the Trials are, no wands or weapons other than a sword. The first one to draw blood three times wins the round. Other than that, there are no rules or limitations."
"What happen if a person is severely injured and loses consciousness?" Hermione asked.
"You would pray that they take mercy on your soul, Miss Granger."
Hermione felt that the look on his face implied that she would be very dim to believe that would be the outcome. She cleared her dry throat, only to smile in a pale imitation of gratitude when Flitwick conjured a glass of water for her. She chugged it down, surprised at her thirst. "Goblins have their own sort of magic, right?"
Wudrok glared at Flitwick, but Hermione was having none of it.
"Oh, please, he didn't give away any more of your secrets! You've all but flaunted the facts for me to see. You call us wand-wavers, like it's something disdainful. You use wandless magic to summon or banish papers, and you made me lose consciousness with a handful of actions." When she was sure she'd brought his attention back to her, she continued. "Now, my question is, do the rules state 'no magic' or 'no wands?'"
Wudrok studied her before grinning. "I would be starting to understand why you demanded the blood tests, half-breed."
"He has a name," Hermione defended hotly.
"Yes, but he hasn't earned one."
She would've been offended on Flitwick's behalf, but then she recalled the naming customs she'd read about. All children were simply referred to as gobbles, juveniles were called apprentices or attendants or whatever was the name of their job, until they'd proven themselves to be contributing members of the horde, wherein they would be allowed to pick their real name.
Of course, the ones with a designation after, such as Gorlug the Greedy and Wudrok the Wise, were only given to the most respected and powerful of the horde, denoting the implication of heroics and tales dotting their histories.
It was inconceivable to them that people were named at birth, so Wudrok's comment wasn't entirely malicious. It was a statement of truth as pertaining to their culture. Flitwick hadn't earned a goblin name.
"I would get back on topic and say the rules specifically state 'no wands.'" Wudrok continued. "If you somehow survive the first two trials with volunteer goblins, the third one will be against a magical creature. For that round, you must kill or completely subdue."
Hermione was a lot less worried about the final round. She'd dealt with magical creatures enough to have some confidence in that arena. However, she doubted the horde would appreciate seeing her make a blank-eyed slave of their brethren—her fallback plan, her last resort, if the situation became dire.
Flitwick glanced at her. "Are you sure you want to do this, Miss Granger?"
Hermione tested out her core, gauging its level and wondering how she could expend as little energy as possible while progressing to the next round. She'd only had a couple of days on "working the muscle" so to speak, with Trainer Hart, so she'd have to remember some of the advice he'd given her about working smarter, not harder. "I think I can handle it. And perhaps you should call me Hermione."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, you're not my professor quite yet, and I feel like we've been through a lot together in the short time we've known each other."
He gave her a dry look. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stick with Miss Granger."
Hermione grinned. "If you insist, professor."
"I do, you cheeky girl."
She'd have to stick to powers within the blue spectrum as much as possible. Venturing too far from her natural state would deplete her stores that much faster. She would switch to her metavision to ensure accuracy of the colors and also get a warning if her opponent would be weaving its own magic.
Using her visiomagus abilities wouldn't use anything, but of course, she'd also used that aspect of herself a lot more, so, maybe Trainer Hart wasn't too off track when he said powers could be worked and built up like muscles.
A great, echoing announcement boomed through the air, and it must've been magically enhanced. "Goblins, goblesses, and gobbles, welcome to the first official Trials in over a century! We would have many volunteers, showing how hoorable a nation we still are, and have selected the best for the opportunity to uphold this resurrection of our heritage."
Hermione's face paled, not having considered the caliber of the volunteers. If they'd had their pick of the lot, surely the two opponents for her first round would be quite skilled.
"And we would have a treat for the last round, but we would keep that as a surprise. Allow me to introduce the first opponent, Brodil the Brave. He would be a renowned fighter, skilled metalsmith, and a dab hand at combat."
Wudrok turned to her, speaking low and fast. "Brodil would be vicious but predictable. He is always striking first and would go in for ending shots. I would advise you to play evasion, learn his pattern. Do not worry if you draw things out. Wait for your moment."
Hermione listened with only one ear. She didn't intend to draw this out. The longer the fight lasted, the more chances there were for her to make a mistake, but still, she appreciated the font of knowledge, and nodded her thanks.
"Let's go. They'll be announcing you, no doubt." Wudrok led them down a long hall which must've contained some noise canceling magic because between one step and the next, the thunderous sound of a bloodthirsty audience barreled into her with its intensity.
"And, his opponent, the one undergoing these trials, a wand-waver if you can believe it!" the announcer continued to the resounding hatred of boos. Not many gasps though, so word must've spread about the outsider in their midst. "This wand-waver would petition to earn rank within our horde and invade our safety, so bolster your champions, the challengers that face this looming threat!"
More raucous cheering.
Flitwick growled, actually growled, and she could see more of the goblin descent in him beyond his short stature and slightly sharper than normal incisors. "Looming threat? She doesn't even have a wand, yet!"
An idea sparked, and Hermione turned to Wudrok. "Would I be able to face both my goblin challengers at once?"
Wudrok scoffed, but she felt Flitwick still, giving her a considering stare. He was a clever man, so no doubt he suspected she had something up her sleave other than the hand shields and metavision.
"It actually might help me," Hermione insisted.
Wudrok, realizing her request was serious, glared at Flitwick. "You would be her goblin spokesperson. Would you not talk her out of this madness? It would do no good to hold a wand-waver's debt if she dies before I cash in on it."
That was morbidly ruthless.
Flitwick glanced at her, raised a silent brow, and nodded at her reassuring look. "As Goblin Spokesperson of Granger, I would ask you seek an answer to my ward's plea."
Wudrok spit in the dirt near their feet but trailed off in search of someone to talk to.
He returned five minutes later looking more surely than ever. "I would hope you know what you're doing, girl. We goblinfolk might look small and cuddly, but every part of us would be lethal weapons."
Hermione tilted her head. "You called me girl."
Wudrok flashed a terrifying grin. "You would think nothing of it. I am intrigued by you and would hope you don't disappoint."
The announcer's voice rang out again. "You would excuse this interruption, but we have a change to our long-standing customs. It would seem the wand-waver has requested to face both opponents at once." Boos filled the stadium. "Leave it to wizardkind to be so arrogant as to wish to meet a swifter death."
Laughter met that statement, and Hermione nearly prayed to a higher power that her plan would work.
"So, we would introduce the wand-waver's second opponent, Bulwak the Bloody, a Trials champion, descendent of the longest running line of offensive soldiers, and earth weaver!" The roar became deafening.
Hermione frowned, glancing back at Wudrok. "Earth weaver?"
"Can bend the earth to his will."
Oh, that would be problematic.
"Here is your sword," he added, handing her a garnet encrusted blade. "Without knowing much about you, I would pick the smallest, hoping it would not trip you to wield it."
"Thanks," she whispered, wondering if it would be an insult to just leave the sword here, outside the arena, because he was probably right. It would be a hindrance to her, having never fought with weapons before. Considering how much they valued their artifacts, yeah, it would probably be a grave insult.
"Let the Trials begin!"
"There you would have it," Wudrok grunted. "That's your cue, girl."
Hermione turned to Flitwick. "Oh, professor, before I forget, would you mind looking after Ignis for me? I don't want him to get hurt on accident," she explained, depositing the bluebell hued fire-salamander in his shocked hold before walking out into the dusty arena.
She thought she heard Wudrok's laughter chase her out, but it was difficult to determine beneath the roaring din. The arena was huge, lit to nearly daylight by the circular, glowing design in the domed ceiling forty meters up. By contrast, the span of the floor was thrice that. Much like the furniture in the goblin side of the bank, the stands comprised the same slate grey bedrock rough with the same chipped markings of primitive prehistoric tools. Within those stands had to be over a thousand shouting and screaming goblins.
Hermione swallowed, continuing to take in her surroundings as if Trainer Hart stood beside her, barking orders in her ear. "Take in the environment. Look for weapons you can use. Considering your parents' size, you will always be at a disadvantage in size and strength, so use that big brain of yours."
She let the tip of the sword rest on the ground, her arm already tired from holding it. One of the goblins across from her, her opponents, snorted in derision, spitting on the ground.
"Goblins and goblesses! Strength in loyalty! Protect our horde!"
With that the two goblins moved at once, must faster than she'd anticipated, but there was also a lot of distance to cover.
Luckily, she only really needed one hand. She called forth the light straw energy, wrenched six sharp looking rocks from the ground by her feet, and sent them hurtling at the goblins. It was a risk considering the last time she'd done such a move, she'd expended quite a bit of her core, but she was hoping to have the shock of that to her advantage. Unfortunately, likely the one that was the earth weaver, saw her attack, and sent up a wall of dirt to block the attack.
That was unfortunate, and she wondered if she'd bit off more than she could chew, but her plan had halfway worked.
Three paper thin cuts lined his cheeks, but they'd delayed blood flow long enough to terrify Hermione that she'd missed entirely. But eventually, to the absolute silence of the shocked crowd, they bled.
"I drew blood," Hermione pointed out when no announcement came, keeping a careful eye on the earth weaver goblin, what had his name been? Bulwak? He stepped out around the wall of dirt, giving her a more assessing look.
Her words, able to be heard in the dead silence, even in the uppermost levels of the stands near the lit, domed ceiling, prompted the announcer to speak. "I would not believe it, folks, if I did not see it with my own eyes. This wand-waver would eliminate Brodil the Brave."
That left the earth weaver, and she'd both shown her hand and expended a large chunk of her energy on her gamble, only to not have it pay off.
She was in trouble.