A/N: Not my sandbox, just my sand castle. I don't own anything from Harry Potter. Additionally, no one has permission to bind and sell my works, fandom or otherwise. Shame on you for exploiting other people's works!

Hello everyone! Welcome back to another fic :) Enjoy this thing that suddenly was stuck at 150 words to now having over 1k words. I enjoyed writing it :)

This one is for Round 5 of The Houses Competition, where I'm in Gryffindor House and writing for Potions. This competition, we have to write a drabble (500-1000 words) as well as a standard (1000-3000 words). This fic is the Standard of the two. Prompts are listed below.

Thank you kindly to Dora, and Queenie for the beta!

Word Count: 1176

Disclaimers/Warnings:

Summary: Harry being in the graveyard after touching the Triwizard Cup wasn't ideal. Hermione being at his side was even worse. Fourth Year canon divergence.

Prompts:

The Houses Competition Y11 R5

(Dialogue) "Are you sure we're meant to be here?"

(Location) Little Hangleton

The Menagerie on Discord

Weekly Writing Challenge

7/29/24-Prompt 1: (dialogue) "Wait for me." / "I will." ~"Wait for Me (reprise)" from the musical Hadestown

"Meant to Be"

"Are you sure we're meant to be here?" Hermione whispered as she looked around, startled. At his non-answer, she looked to find Harry hunched over, clutching at his scar. That only meant one thing: Voldemort was near. Her newly honed battle instincts flared and Hermione stayed low, pulling Harry down with her and moving them away from where they had landed when the Triwizard Cup had spun them away. She was thankful she had helped Harry train for the tournament. They would have been sitting ducks otherwise.

The Third Task had absolutely been a trap. It had been a maze filled with creatures and area effects that, paired with a hostage situation due to the cancellation of the Second Task when the French government had discovered a violation of the Merfolk/Veela peace treaty, Hermione could only describe as a mess.

"Kill the spare!" A flash of light hit the spot they had been at only seconds before. Hermione kept going, ducking behind what she was now recognizing as headstones.

They were in a graveyard.

"Find him!"

"Come out, Potter! Stand like a man!" Peter Pettigrew's sniveling voice echoed amongst the tombstones. Hermione's grip on Harry tightened.

"I'm fine," Harry whispered, shifting under her grasp and ducking further behind a large headstone with a glossy finish. Hermione saw the faint reflection of flames dancing on the headstone, and chanced a look, trusting the darkness to cover her. An enormous cauldron sat on the other end, large enough for a fully grown man to sit in. A low flame burned underneath it, and she had the sinking feeling that the cauldron held a potion that would mean ruin for them all.

Harry suddenly lurched forward, knocking into her. Hermione kept her balance, her hands coming up to steady him and herself, and she hoped that Pettigrew yelling for them was loud enough to cover the grunt Harry gave out as he fell.

"Harry, are you alright?" she whispered, her attention divided between checking that he was alright and making sure that the people hunting them–clearly Death Eaters, and possibly Voldemort–didn't find them. Harry opened his eyes, and his green irises seemed to glow in the darkness for a moment before dulling to normal. "Harry?" she asked again.

"Hermione!" he replied quietly. "No, no, I didn't go far back enough!"

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione asked, confused. "Do you know where we are?"

He took a moment to look around, his eyes suddenly looking wizened beyond his years. What had just happened?

"We're in the graveyard in Little Hangleton," Harry replied absently. He grabbed at his head once more. "But why are you here?" he added. "Last time it was me and Cedric."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said, confused.

"Hermione, how did you get here?" Harry then asked. His green eyes bored into her own, and it flustered her.

"We were in the Third task together. I was your hostage because the Second task was canceled. The judges had decided to combine the two, and one of the requirements to win was that both the hostage and the champion had to touch the cup. Harry, you're confusing me, what–"

"Hermione, who took you to the Yule Ball?" he said, interrupting.

"Harry, you did, but I don't see what that has to do with–"

"And what about Ron? Where is he?"

"Weasley? You haven't been friends with him since the beginning of the year when he thought you put your name in the Goblet of Fire. He's refused to apologize and you refused to forgive him without one. Finally, in my opinion," she added under her breath.

Harry swore and ran a hand through his hair. He ducked further behind the tombstone and pulled her down with him.

"I'm sorry to have dragged you into this mess," he said, peeking over the headstone. He silently moved to the next one, dragging her along with him. "And I'm sorry for what happened to your Harry."

"Wait, what–"

"I was only supposed to travel back in time, not jump universes…" It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, Hermione couldn't contain her gasp. She clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized how loud she was.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Pettigrew's voice echoed through the Little Hangleton graveyard. With widened eyes, Hermione followed Harry through the darkness as he led her further and further away from the cauldron and the still-glimmering Triwizard Cup.

"Harry, we should go back to the cup," she whispered, her mind whirling at the confession he had given.

"No." His answer was curt, but he squeezed her hand in apology. "There's a trap on the other side waiting for us as well. Professor Moody is still the teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, correct?"

"Yes, but–"

"He's a Death Eater."

"What–"

"In disguise, of course. He's Barty Crouch Jr posing as Professor Moody. He'll drag me away as soon as we arrive back–or even worse, drag you away–interrogate me about Tom resurrecting, and then try to off me–"

"Tom?" Hermione asked, this time being the one to interrupt him. Throughout this entire discussion, they had kept moving and were running out of graveyard to hide in. They were about to hit the road, only stopped by a low cobblestone fence tracing the perimeter. It offered very low cover for the two teens.

"Voldemort's real name, Tom Riddle. The ritual he's about to perform requires his father's bones," Harry replied. He suddenly perked up. "I have an idea." He turned to head back from where they came from.

"Wait!" Hermione called out quietly. "Are you sure we're meant to be here? What if we just need to leave and let the authorities handle it?"

Harry took a moment to just stare at her in the low light, as if memorizing her features. "I'm sure I'm meant to be here. But you? You're not. I don't want you to get hurt, Hermione." The sincerity in his gaze made her heart hurt. If he was from another universe, from a different timeline than hers, something horrible must have happened to him…and to herself.

"I'll stay safe…I promise," Hermione said, already forming a plan. Harry moved forward and hugged her tightly to him. She hugged him back just as fiercely. "You have to be safe as well," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Of course! With you at my back, I'll always be safe," Harry said. He let go first and then turned to the center of the graveyard. "Wait for me."

"I will," Hermione agreed. She watched as Harry slunk back into the graveyard, letting his form disappear into the darkness, and then she counted to ten, waiting the entire time. Once those few seconds were up, Hermione scooted herself forward to follow him into the darkness. She would help him and fight at his side. She might not have had as much experience as him, but she would try her hardest to help keep him alive.