Thursday afternoon found a large group of Shadows and Durmstrang students 'missing' from the Hogwarts grounds. The Durmstrang students were helping them to dig holes to plant trees at Hermione's land in Exmoor, with the understanding that they would be making staves along with the Shadows once the trees had grown enough. Viktor Krum had side-along Apparated a stunned Neville Longbottom, who was under oath not to speak a word of what he saw or heard. Now Neville was working with Theo, both of them digging up parts of the ground, frowning, and arguing with each other away from the group. Hermione had high hopes for their collaboration for the ground detoxification project. It would take forever to manually detoxify each cubic foot of ground with magic.
Meanwhile, everyone was having fun being ridiculous outside of school grounds, gossiping as they dug into the ground with relish. The Durmstrang students were apparently on a tight leash with Karkaroff around, and away from their Headmaster, they were able to act out and speak freely in whatever language they pleased. Even though she couldn't understand a word, Hermione smiled as she overheard the Durmstrang boys chattering. It seemed a few of the boys were racing to dig holes, which made her grin – some things were the same everywhere.
The Shadows had their own gossip – something positive, for once.
"Sirius is kicking up a huge fuss," Harry said with satisfaction. "He's been hassling people at the Ministry every day since the whole business started, and he keeps talking to people at the Daily Prophet. I think he's been trying to reach out to The Quibbler, too."
"Not to mention he's interrupted the Board of Governors' meetings twice, now," Draco said dryly. "My father's not been pleased."
"I know," Harry said happily. "Isn't it grand?"
Hermione had to admit, standing up publicly against the gross injustice that was Harry being forced to participate in the tournament was slowly improving her opinion of Sirius Black. It would have been easy to go along with Dumbledore's lead and follow his resignation to the 'unfortunate situation', but Sirius had yet to let go of the issue. He was consulting with barristers about legal options (unfortunately, there were none), he was eviscerating the Ministry and Hogwarts in the press, and he was demanding public investigations of everyone who could have possibly entered Harry's name.
He was rather like a dog with a bone, Hermione thought with private amusement, and she wasn't about to discourage him in the slightest. People should be outraged, and Sirius' anger on behalf of Harry was the first decent guardian-like thing she'd seen him do.
"Is there anything else he can really do?" Susan asked, moving another potted tree next to a hole. "Realistically, he's not going to get you out of the tournament. It's too dangerous. What can he do that would help?"
"Cheat," Blaise said immediately. "If he overhears anything while he's haranguing the Ministry, while he's bothering the Board of Governors - anything will give us a leg up on the First Task."
"How badly do we want to try to cheat?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Right now, it seems like the it's just at the 'try Divination' and 'try Arithmancy' and 'try to overhear anything' level."
"As opposed to what?" Susan asked.
"As opposed to 'infiltrate the Ministry, steal their documents, and read their plans," Pansy said flatly. "Or as opposed to 'kidnap Crouch and interrogate him until he tells us what we want to know'."
Susan and Harry balked, while Blaise countered with, "Bagman's a better bet. Crouch used to run the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Bagman's just an old Beater without a bat."
"Bagman, then." Pansy rolled her eyes. "So: where are we?"
"I—I don't want to hurt people," Harry said, a bit anxiously. "Kidnapping – we could get in real trouble for that, couldn't we?"
"Not if they don't remember it happening afterwards," Tracey said, her voice a dark sing-songy tone. She smiled nastily, her eyes glinting. "Can't get in trouble if you don't get caught."
Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Hermione couldn't help a sly smirk. Harry always reacted this way when he was reminded of just what having Slytherin friends meant. It was undeniable that he liked people having his back and supporting him, but he preferred not to consider the lengths at which they would go if they needed.
"Let's wait until Harry and Draco get their Arithmancy model stood up," Hermione said, nodding to the boys. "Once that gives us a rough idea of what kind of situation we're in, we can start taking more and more extreme steps. We're still over a fortnight out from the First Task, so we've got some time."
"Luna and I can try Divination," Tracey offered. She glanced at Luna. "If that's okay with you."
Luna smiled. "Of course." She paused, tilting her head. "I wonder if we could combine our Seer skills to see further, or with more clarity."
Tracey was startled. "Is that possible?"
"Who knows?" Luna's smile was enigmatic. "But it's worth a try, surely."
Hermione gave Tracey a long, searching look. Tracey's eyes were hopeful, penitent. After a long moment, Hermione sighed.
"Worth a shot," she conceded. "Anything we can do to help Harry."
Potions class the next afternoon was interrupted by a young Gryffindor boy (Colin Creevey, Harry's little fan boy) apparently sent to fetch Harry for something called 'the Weighing of the Wands' the champions were needed for. Snape was disgusted and loathe to let Harry go early from class (there was still an hour left of brewing left), and Snape outright refused to let Hermione leave to go with Harry , utterly ignoring her justification of Harry being in her coven, which made Hermione sulk and silently fume through the rest of the lesson.
After class, Snape pulled Hermione aside.
"Across the hall from here, there is an empty storage closet," he informed her. "Look for the mossy stone, say 'truffles', and the door will open."
Hermione blinked. "…sir?"
"An hour ago, there was no one in that closet," Snape told her, raising an eyebrow. "It is one place nearby that can be guaranteed. You understand what I am not telling you, yes?"
Hermione exhaled in relief. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
A neat Time-Turning back a moment later, and Hermione was hurrying after Harry and Colin Creevey, insisting she was coming with them. Colin faltered in confusion, but Harry's smile was blinding, making Hermione more determined as she followed them up.
Colin led them to a fairly small classroom where most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle. Three of the desks had been placed end-to-end at the front of the classroom and covered with velvet, with five chairs placed behind the makeshift fancy table. Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of these chairs, talking to Rita Skeeter and looking distinctly uncomfortable about it.
Viktor Krum was standing awkwardly in a corner, though his face lit up when he saw Harry and Hermione enter. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation at the other side of the room. Hermione curiously watched Cedric for a reaction as he spoke with Fleur; as best she could tell, he seemed mostly able to keep his wits about him, despite her long silvery hair catching the light as she moved. Hermione wondered if circlet was helping, or if it was just Cedric's power of will.
Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded over.
"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come… nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony—"
From the sounds of it, the wand weighing ceremony was literally just a safety check to make sure everyone's wands were fully functional. They'd brought in an expert to examine the wands, who was currently upstairs with Dumbledore - Hermione presumed that would be Ollivander.
"The Prophet is doing a small piece on the tournament," Rita said, eyes glinting. "We've covered the whole fourth champion scandal already rather thoroughly, but Ludo here thought it'd be nice if we did a piece just on the tournament, the weighing of the wands, and what's to come. With a bit of a photoshoot, for publicity."
"Right," Bagman said, doing his best to not look anxious. "It's the first time the tournament's been brought back in ages – people are bound to be excited about it—"
Hermione felt a moment of pity for Bagman's futile hope, before snuffing it out. Bagman was part of the reason Harry was in this stupid mess.
Harry had gone over to Viktor, utterly ignoring Bagman, and Hermione followed him while Rita distracted Bagman with a question about what safety precautions and adjustments were being made to the tournament to protect the Boy Who Lived.
"Wand weighing," Viktor said, his smile wry. "No hurry on crafting staffs then, yes?"
Harry grinned. "Guess not."
"Second task, then," Viktor said, looking amused. "I want to bring big giant staff with big stone on it. I want others scared when they see it."
"Careful," Hermione quipped. "Too much about your big giant staff, and people might think you're compensating for something."
Viktor looked startled, then confused, then suddenly broke into astonished laughter.
"You—you are saying—" Viktor broke off, laughing loudly. His laugh was low and warm, and his face lit up when he was happy.
Hermione flushed, watching him laugh. She didn't think it'd been that funny, but Viktor seemed to.
"Maybe I stick with wand instead," Viktor said finally, when he had calmed down. He grinned at Hermione. "I not want pretty witches to think unflattering things, yeah?"
Hermione's face went redder, and Harry looked fairly astonished, looking between Viktor and Hermione with confusion. Hermione tossed her hair, attempting to gather her dignity about her, and she was relieved to see Dumbledore enter with the other Tournament judges, followed by none other than Mr. Ollivander.
"Ah, excellent! Everybody is here," Dumbledore said, ignoring Hermione. "If I might introduce Mr. Ollivander? He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."
The judges all went around to sit behind the makeshift table to watch. There was a bit of a scuffle while Madame Maxime and Barty Crouch tried to get around each other, before it was decided that Madame Maxime would just sit on the end, where her legs had more room to spread out to the side. Barty Crouch looked irritated at being made to sit next to Dumbledore, and Hermione wondered if there was a conflict going on there.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.
He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton, and a number of pink and gold sparks flew out of the wand before he held it close to his eyes, examining it carefully.
"Nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"
Fleur took pity on him.
"A hair from the head of a veela," Fleur told him.
"Ah, yes," said Ollivander. "Yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands…"
"It was one of my grandmother's," Fleur said shortly, looking less charitably at the old man.
"However, each to their own," Ollivander said smoothly. "And if this suits you…"
Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, checking for scratches or bumps, before he said, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.
"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Ollivander, handing Fleur her wand back along with the bouquet of flowers. Fleur took them, looking at them, before shooting Hermione an incredulous look. Hermione had to stifle a giggle, and as Cedric stood to go next, Fleur stole his seat and moved it so she could be next to Hermione.
"Temperamental wand indeed," Fleur said, her voice low. "I am temperamental. I would give this old man a piece of my mind…"
"We could throw fireballs at him," Hermione whispered, trying not to snicker. "I'm still ready at any time."
"You are, now?" Fleur gave her a wicked grin, and her eyes gleamed. "Perhaps after this 'ceremony'. We could give this journalist something more exciting to write about than people looking at wands, yes?"
Ollivander was praising Cedric for regularly treating and polishing his wand, which had the effect of making both Fleur and Hermione snort into their robes at the unintentional innuendo. It seemed to make Harry self-conscious about that state of his own wand, though, as he gathered a fistful of robes to try and clean the smudges from it, making several gold sparks shoot out of the end.
Viktor was next, and he seemed reluctant to hand his wand over to Ollivander, scowling as he did.
"Hmm," said Ollivander. "This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken. A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite…"
Hermione wondered if Ollivander was incapable of discussing wands made by other wand-makers without somehow denigrating their work.
"Hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he asked, and Viktor nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees… Avis!"
The wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.
"Good," said Ollivander, handing Viktor back his wand. "Which leaves… Mr. Potter."
Harry got to his feet nervously and approached Ollivander. Hermione wondered what would happen if Harry's wand was found deficient in some way – would he be required to get a new one? Could damaged wands be fixed?
"My wand is hornbeam wood," Viktor said, taking Harry's seat on Hermione's other side. "Hornbeam is not Ogham wood. Staff will not match my wand, I think."
Hermione blinked. "Oh. Did you think it naturally would?"
"Would make sense." Viktor shrugged. "Does wood not match wizard like wand core does?"
"I have no idea," Hermione said. "My wand is made from vine wood, though. Making a staff of that was never an option."
Viktor gave her a slow grin.
"You not want staff made of vine?" he said, teasing. "Would be all pretty, circling around with ivy. Might be silly shape, but could work…"
"Oh hush," Hermione hissed at him, and Viktor grinned.
Fleur looked at Viktor and Hermione curiously, and when they all attempted to pay attention to Harry and Ollivander again, Hermione leaned over to Fleur.
"A group of us want to make magical staves," she whispered. "That's what he was talking about. You can join in too, if you want. A bunch of Durmstrang students are exploring it with us."
"Maybe," Fleur said. She was still looking at Viktor quizzically, and Hermione wondered if she was curious why Viktor was not reacting to her allure.
Ollivander finally finished with Harry's wand, making a fountain of wine shoot out of it (which seemed unnecessarily messy to Hermione) before handing it back, announcing it was still in perfect condition.
"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now – or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—"
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions first. What do you think, Rita?"
"Excellent," Rita said, stepping forward with a calculating eye. "And then perhaps some individual shots."
Hermione hung back, watching as Rita and the photographer directed the judges and the champions into different positions. First, it was just all the judges; then, all the champions; then, the champions with the judges, each judge setting a hand on the shoulder of their respective champion. Rita redirected Dumbledore from putting both his hands on Cedric and Harry, citing that he couldn't face the proper way like that, and she made Crouch step in as a British Ministry representative to put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Neither of them looked thrilled with this, and apparently the photographer wasn't thrilled with the result either, directing Crouch to move to the middle with Bagman and just leave Harry without a judge touching him at the end.
It was curious, Hermione mused, to watch. Because she had given Rita the angle to take with all articles about the tournament, she could almost see the narrative they were visually crafting; all of the shots of the champions highlighted the contrast between the three who were of age and Harry – their height, their poise, their confidence, against Harry's apparent discomfort and youth. Even in the group shot, Harry was left at the edge, as if he was forgotten by the judges and the others.
He wasn't forgotten, as the Prophet was going to keep making a big stink about the utter injustice of it all, but Hermione found she didn't mind the framing. It made the Ministry and Dumbledore look bad, and that was exactly what she wanted.
