Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 24
A/N: Onwards with the battle. Thank you for the reviews. I do apologize for still not revealing Hermione's heritage. I'd only planned for the goblin sections to last a chapter and a half, but they've gotten out of hand. Though, I would challenge you to try wrangling over a thousand ruthless, bloodthirsty creatures into any semblance of order ;-]
April 25th, 1992
The earth weaver, Bulwak, shifted, his sword, much fancier than her own, catching the light cast from the domed, enchanted ceiling. He moved with precision while never taking his eyes off her.
That didn't bode well.
She cleared her throat. "I don't suppose you want to share why they bestowed you with the name 'Bulwak the Bloody,' do you?"
Bulwak snorted but didn't get distracted from study her every move like a panther about to pounce. "Would you survive this, I would be inclined to tell, wand-waver."
He punctuated his words with a slash of his sword as a literal cracked trench in the crust of the ground raced toward her. She dodged out of the way, ducking into a side roll that had her springing back to her feet.
"First blood," Bulwak called with a terrible grin full of flashing, dripping teeth.
Hermione frowned, mentally assessing herself before feeling it. The fingertips of her free hand travelled to her temple where she must've scraped against something on the ground, and sure enough, they came away wet.
He must've guessed her thought process because he shook his head. "You would do well to think again."
She followed his line of sight down to the sword and saw the telltale red.
The announcer boomed with glee. "The asinine wand-waver cut herself on her own weapon!"
Jeers and points burst from the crowd.
Hermione squared her shoulders. If they weren't concerned in the slightest with offending her, why she shouldn't she do the same? She tossed the sword somewhere far behind her, where she wouldn't accidentally trip over it and chop off her own foot or something equally mortifying.
As she'd predicted, the action drew affronted gasps from the crowd, but it'd silenced their mirth enough that she could be heard when she called out, "I find it amusing that you call me wand-waver. I've never held a wand in my life. A sword, either, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't want to insult its maker by using it so ineptly."
Bulwak slashed his sword again and a hail of rocks shot in her direction. She managed to get a shield up, but not before one ripped through her jumper. Her arm went numb and then her bicep felt wet.
That cut had gone much deeper than the one on her face, and she worried it would hinder her movements.
"Second blood," Bulwak called out smugly.
This needed to end.
She used her powers to catch a couple of the projectiles and send them back, and really strained herself by simultaneously picking up three rocks from behind him and hurtling them at him as well.
As predicted, he dodged from the assault in front of him, the distraction, and it probably would've been the end of the fight if the crowd hadn't alerted him to the sneak attack from behind. He turned just in time to take two cuts across his hands before he blocked the third.
Two to two.
She swore and ducked into another side roll, and then another, and another as he returned rapid fire. Despite how easily she'd taken out the first attacker, he must've been toying with her before.
She went to dip into another dodge, but, unexpectedly the ground before her shot up, entirely halting her forward momentum. Breath stolen, she collapsed on her back from the impact, and it was only pure muscle memory that had her sending up a full bodied shield, even encircling into the dirt beneath her since he'd just displayed just how much he could bend the earth to his will, that kept her from being buried alive.
The sound of the crowd drowned out as the earth weaver layered on the dirt. She held her hands up in front of her, glad that the earth inside the bubble with her seemed impervious to his manipulations. That would've been lethal. She strained and grunted beneath the compaction, reinforcing the shield while allowing her bluebell flames to engulf her hands and provide light in the pitch blackness. If she hadn't cast the shield, she'd have been dead.
"Casualties, indeed," she gasped through a strained breath.
She wasn't sure if the rest of the crowd believed the fight to be over, but the earth weaver must've been able to tell she was still alive because the pressure increased all over, and spiderweb cracks began to form along the sapphire blue shield.
She killed the flames, kept her hands up to help ward off the attack, and switched to her metavision.
Immediately the rambunctious crowd became visible in a writhing mass of glowing energy, making it difficult to pick out the energy of her opponent.
Sweat rolled down her face, stinging the cut on her temple. "Concentrate, Hermione. This is life or death!"
She took a deep breath and continued to scan, following the mixture of, ironically named, goblin green according to her color theory charts, back to its source.
"Got you," she whispered, summoning the telekinetic light straw, shooting it out, reaching blindly for mass and hoping that there would be at least something sharp in that random scoop, and hurtling it at the brightest point on Bulwak's glowing silhouette.
The pressure on her faltered as she'd hoped, and, just in case she hadn't ended the round, shot off a blast of telekinetic energy that dropped her shield but also exploded the earth off of her, allowing her to climb to her feet.
She slowly climbed to her feet, having dropped her metavision for now when the world became visible again. It wouldn't take much to switch back if she suspected an attack coming, but she wanted to keep at least that much a secret for now.
Bulwak stared at her, his brows furrowed. "How would you do that? You were blind in there—"
The announcer interrupted his question. "Third blood has been drawn on Bulwak, but we would question, did the wand-waver get bloodied in his impressive attack before that?"
Hermione, relaxing her vigilance somewhat, because either way, the fight had reached an end, patted herself down, searching for any injuries. A goblin scrambled out from the tunnels where she saw that Wudrak had placed a restraining hand on a rather pale-faced Flitwick.
The goblin approached and gave her a thorough checking over before shaking…her… head in the negative. "The wand-waver only has the two cuts."
"People, I would not believe it! Bulwak would never be defeated, and this wand-waver did!" Hermione wanted to collapse with relief, but that was short lived as the announcer continued. "That just leaves the last trial, a beast so terrifying and impressive that even we would be wary to tangle with them! We would stay ready with excitement while the wand-waver takes a short break to regroup."
Not needing any more encouragement, Hermione beelined for the tunnel and the two friendliest faces in the place. She didn't stop when she reached them. Her goal was the line of silence. Messy thoughts clouded her mind, and she needed a clear head to face her last challenge, though she was very relieved that it was only a magical creature left.
Flitwick, under the impression that the worst she'd encountered was a well-mannered demiguise, didn't share her easy acceptance. "A nundu!" Flitwick bellowed, looking furious when the crowd's noise died off. "The last time someone fought one of these trials, they went up against a bicorn, hardly worse than a bull."
Hermione ran her fingers over the cut on her temple before pulling her jumper off to inspect the one on her arm. She'd been babying it. "What's so intimidating about a nundu?"
"What's so—" Flitwick broke off from his incredulity, recalling her newness to the magical world. Ignis chittered and chattered on his shoulder, but Flitwick must've already gotten used to the small salamander's presence—that or he was just too preoccupied. "They're spiked leopards, bigger than the Knight Bus, with toxic breath that can wipe out entire villages. One has never been subdued by no less than one hundred skilled wizards working together. For point of reference, dragon tamers need a team of around ten to restrain a nesting dragon. Newt Scamander considers it to be the most dangerous beast in existence! This is nothing short of a death sentence."
"Oh." Hermione tilted her head, strategy running through her mind as she recalled what she could about muggle leopards from her animal biology studies with Professor Irving, one of her daily classes throughout the weekdays due to the nature of her intended role for the Secret Service in capturing magical creatures.
"No, not just 'oh,' Miss Granger—"
"Hermione," she corrected absently.
"—this is the end. I will not allow you to continue."
Wudrok, also disconcertingly shaken, shook his head in denial. "No, you would not do that—"
Flitwick all but snapped his teeth in the goblin's face. "Watch me! I will face the consequences of my actions alone. Miss Granger does not deserve death! She is a child!"
"A child that would take down two highly skilled fighters at once!" Wudrok argued. "And even if you turn yourself over for judgement, they would not allow her out of this. She knows about the Release of History and petitioning for rank in the horde through Trials. If that information got in the hands of the wizards—"
"What? What wizard would be insane enough to endure these insane trials for the chance of a clean slate? You overestimate the bravery of most grown men, Wudrok."
"That would not be how the elders would see it. She would be in too deep."
Hermione used her ruined sweater to dab at the cut on her arm, and Flitwick sighed. "Allow me, Miss Granger."
He waved his wand and the cut on her arm knit itself together, accelerating its healing by at least a weak. When he did the same to the one on her temple, it nearly healed entirely since it'd been much shallower.
"Thank you, professor."
"Please, call me Flitwick. I would agree that we've been through too much to stick with the formalities, at least outside school." He shook his head. "Less than an hour into being your official guardian for the goblins, and I thought you'd died."
She accepted the rock goblet of water Wudrok had fetched with the advice to pace herself since she would not want to be bloated down by water weight for her last trial, ignoring the absolutely scathing glare Flitwick shot him for his troubles.
"There will not be a last trial," Flitwick insisted.
Hermione reached out her hand, and Ignis eagerly climbed over, scurrying up her arm and nuzzling his entire body against her cheek, making her beam. She fed him a puff of fire from the tip of her finger. "Professor, I'm afraid I have something to confess. You see, I haven't just faced a demiguise, but I was worried to tell you after your reaction."
"I can see that, but a fire-dwelling salamander the size of your palm is hardly any comparison to—"
"I bound an unwilling erkling to me to protect myself."
Silence fell for a moment before Wudrok snorted. "No, I would certainly not be disappointed. You would be very interesting. I would see now why you demanded such iron-clad secrecy." He turned to Flitwick. "You would not really believe she is of blood-relation to you, would you? Who would you actually suspect?"
Flitwick kept his gaze on her. "I have no idea, but it must be something powerful, something ancient considering she was able to remain hidden from Hogwarts and the Ministry for over a year." He frowned at her steadfast look. "I concede that an erkling is an impressive feat, but still nowhere near the nundu. As I said, it is our most dangerous animal, and that includes a list of fire-breathing dragons and animals that can kill with just one look."
Hermione paused, the first seed of doubt being sewn. "Can a nundu do that? Kill with a look?"
"No—" Hermione relaxed, and Flitwick scowled. "But that doesn't mean you should not be terrified."
"I don't want to see you in jail, professor."
"I don't want to see you die! Again!"
Her lips twitched. "You didn't see me die the first time."
"I didn't know that, Hermione!"
She relented, seeing how worried he'd been. Did it have something to do with the contract he'd signed that created the bond of promise between them? "Look, it sounds as if they intend to force me to complete, anyway. I would rather do it with at least one person on my cheer team in the crowd."
"Ah, you would not forget your debt to me, girl," Wudrok interrupted. "I would also be hoping for your victory."
Hermione bobbed her head at the goblin as if that proved her point. "See what I mean? The only person that doesn't want to see me as a bloody smear in the dust doesn't exactly have the most altruistic motives. If I'm to fight, I'd rather you not be behind bars."
He eventually nodded.
Wudrok didn't trust Flitwick's easy capitulation. "You would not be able to interfere. It is a capital offense."
Flitwick snarled at him. "Then we would both be thrown in jail. How is that worse than me thrown in jail and her dead?"
"If she is dead, you would not be incarcerated."
That was true. His offense stemmed from exposing her to goblin secrets. If he didn't intercede, the problem would be—grisly as it was—taken care of.
"You can't step in, professor."
Flitwick barked a guttural word that was interpreted as a rather impolite word in English. "Watch me. If I can't stop you from throwing your life away, then you can't stop me from doing the same, Miss Granger."
Hermione relented.
"Good," he bit out. "Now, tell me your plan. We only have a few minutes left, and I can chime in where I think it's necessary."
She did so, giving a rough outline of her thoughts.
"And what," Flitwick prodded. "if your shield doesn't protect you from the toxins of its breath?"
"Then I move as quickly as I can, defeat the beast, and hope that you can heal me from the disease? How long does it take to perish from the poison?"
"It takes over a day for the first symptoms to show," Flitwick conceded.
"Okay, then that's as good as we're going to get, then."
The announcer's echoing voice trailed through the room, denoting the trial's resume.
It was time.