Hello! I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. I know it is not action packed, but it is going to be a long one. I want to make sure everything is built up. Slow and steady and all that. Still, I do hope its enjoyable.
Who do you think Hermione will have a romance with?
Chapter 4: Ripples
The days following the attack at the Quidditch World Cup passed in a daze. They spent the last days of summer at the Burrow, enjoying the brief moment they had to be children, but for Hermione, nothing felt the same.
Sitting outside on the worn grass, Hermione watched as Harry and Ron threw gnomes back over the fence with laughter. She enjoyed the moments in which Harry could be carefree. She would once have berated them for the way they were treating those gnomes, but they were pesky little things. She could still feel the tension, even on this beautiful summer day; none of them knew what was coming.
It wasn't just the attack itself that bothered her, she knew it was going to happen, it was the changes that tormented her. Changes that had been so quick, just by interacting differently, or going a different way. Then there was the feeling of darkness inside her, the fleeting moments where her magic had failed, and the way her mind had slipped into dark, dangerous thoughts. She could still feel it, lingering just beneath the surface, and she had no idea how to control it.
That night, as everyone settled down, exhausted from the day, Hermione tossed and turned in her bed. The sound of the Burrow—creaking wood, the gentle snores from Ginny in the bed usually soothed her. But in this time, they felt distant, almost hollow. She stared at the ceiling, trying to will herself to sleep when suddenly, a loud, gut-wrenching cry pierced the stillness of the house.
"NO!"
Hermione bolted upright, recognizing the voice immediately.
"Harry."
Without hesitation, she jumped out of bed and rushed down the stairs. She found Harry sitting upright in bed, gasping for breath, his eyes wide and wild with panic. Ron stirred from his own bed, his face groggy with sleep.
"Hermione?" Harry's voice was thick with fear as his eyes darted around the room.
Hermione knelt by his side, gently placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Harry. It was just a nightmare," she said softly, though her own heartbeat had yet to slow.
"No," Harry shook his head, his breath still coming in short gasps. "It wasn't just a nightmare. It was a man... I saw him. He was killing Muggles, torturing them. It felt so real."
Hermione's stomach twisted as she looked into Harry's haunted eyes. She had seen that look before. "You have to write to Sirius," she urged quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. "He needs to know about this. It could mean something... something important. He might be able to help? I'm sure he'd love to hear from you"
Harry nodded slowly, though he still looked shaken. "Yeah... I'll write to him tomorrow."
Ron, in the next cot, muttered something about crazy spiders, as he rolled over, but Hermione stayed with Harry a little while longer, offering quiet reassurances until he finally fell back into an uneasy sleep. She, however, couldn't find the same peace. Barty Crouch Jr, was already moving, and she had to be ready.
The following days passed in a blur. While the rest of the household seemed to be slowly finding a sense of normalcy, Hermione remained on edge. The weight of the future bore down on her, and she couldn't allow herself to relax.
She began keeping a journal, writing down everything she knew—the spells she had learned, the key events of the timeline, the deaths, and the dates. Every detail of the future she had lived through found its way into the worn pages of the diary. It was her secret weapon, her guide to survival and victory. She had secured it with every possible privacy spell she could think of. If anyone got their hands on this, it would be the end.
Sitting in her room, quill in hand, Hermione paused as she wrote Dumbledore's name. She considered telling him everything—about the spell, the time travel, the dark thoughts that had been plaguing her, where the horcruxes were. He was supposed to be the one with all the answers, the one who knew how to fight this war. But as she stared at his name, her mind twisted with darker thoughts.
'He used us, she realized, a bitter taste rising in her mouth. He let us fight his war. We were just pawns to him. He sent Harry to die.'
The thought caught her off guard, and she quickly shook her head as if to dispel it. But the feeling didn't fade. The bitterness lingered, clouding her mind. She was about to continue writing when the sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts.
Fred Weasley appeared in the doorway, his usual grin plastered across his face. "Oi, Hermione. What are you doing holed up in here while everyone else is having fun? There's cake!"
Hermione's heart raced as she quickly shoved the diary under her pillow. "Oh, nothing," she said, trying to sound casual. "Just... thinking."
Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Thinking, eh? Well, that's something you do far too much of, don't you think?"
She couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. "Maybe."
Fred plopped down beside her on the bed, his presence warm and easy. "Come on, it's the last days of summer. Surely there's something more fun we can do than thinking."
Hermione felt her heart race at his proximity. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, her own darkness, that she hadn't allowed herself to think about moments like these—moments where things still felt... normal.
They exchanged a few playful jabs, Fred's teasing drawing her out of her shell. He nudged her shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like days, she let out a genuine laugh.
Soon after, they Weasleys, and them made their way to the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 34. Hermione, Harry, Ron, and the Weasleys boarded, and soon the familiar clatter of the train lulled Hermione into a brief sense of peace. Hogwarts had always been her home.
But as they approached Hogwarts, the anxiety she had been holding back began to creep in. Her mind wandered, thoughts racing about how to stop what she knew was coming. She kept replaying scenarios in her head—how to keep Harry from entering the Triwizard Tournament, how to keep him safe.
The Sorting Ceremony passed in a blur, and Hermione barely registered the excited chatter around her. Dumbledore rose to his feet and made the announcement she had been dreading.
"Settle down, settle down children, and Welcome young and old. I want to announce that this year, we are proud to host the Triwizard Tournament!"
The hall erupted into cheers, but Hermione's hands clenched into fists under the table. Her eyes darted toward Mad-Eye Moody. She knew who he really was—Barty Crouch Jr., a Death Eater hiding in plain sight. Her gaze lingered on him too long, and he looked back at her, his magical eye swiveling to meet hers.
Hermione quickly looked away, her heart hammering in her chest. He knows something, she thought, panic creeping in. Does he know I'm onto him? No that's crazy, he just felt me staring with that eye of his.
At the dinner table, Harry and Ron were buzzing with excitement, discussing the tournament with Fred and George. "Can you imagine?" George said, his eyes wide. "Glory like that? It'd be incredible!"
"Bet I could take it all the way," Fred added, grinning mischievously. "Imagine a Weasley winning the Triwizard Cup!"
Hermione snapped. "Are you out of your mind?" she said sharply, her voice carrying an edge that startled the others. "Do you know how dangerous that tournament is? People die. It's not about glory, it's about survival!"
The boys stared at her in stunned silence, the tension palpable.
"Hermione, calm down," Harry said, giving her a confused look. "We were just talking about it, not—"
"I don't care!" she interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "You shouldn't even think about it. None of you should."
Ron exchanged a glance with Harry and Fred. "Blimey, Hermione, what's got into you?"
Hermione shook her head, not trusting herself to speak further. She could feel her heart racing, the panic bubbling up inside her. She had to keep them safe. She couldn't lose them, not again.
The next morning, Defense Against the Dark Arts class was filled with nervous anticipation. Mad-Eye Moody—or rather, Barty Crouch Jr. in disguise—stood at the front of the classroom, his mismatched eyes scanning the students.
Professor Moody, introduced himself and went on a tangent about dark wizards and how he caught them. While everyone was hanging on to his every word, Hermione just stared stoically.
"As I'm sure you all know," Moody began, his voice a low growl, "there are three Unforgivable Curses. Can anyone name all three?"
For once, Hermione did not raise her hand. She would not participate.
The room fell silent as Moody began to demonstrate each curse, starting with the Imperius Curse. The students watched in fascinated horror as he made a spider dance across his hand.
Then came the Cruciatus Curse. Neville's face paled as the spider writhed in pain, and Hermione's heart twisted in her chest. She could see Neville struggling to hold back tears, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of his desk. She herself having gone through many rounds, courtesy of Bellatrix. The memory made her shudder in fear.
But it was the Killing Curse that made her blood run cold. The green flash of light, the way the spider's body crumpled and fell lifeless to the ground. The air felt thick, suffocating.
Something inside Hermione snapped.
"That's enough!" she shouted, standing up so abruptly that her chair clattered to the ground. Her voice was sharp, laced with anger. "What are you trying to do, traumatize everyone after what happened at the World Cup?"
The entire class turned to look at her, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion.
Moody's magical eye swiveled to her, his lip curling into a sneer. "Think you're clever, do you, Granger? Think you've got all the answers?"
Hermione's heart pounded, but she met his gaze, refusing to back down. "It's not about being clever. It's about not terrifying students."
Moody's sneer deepened. "If you think you're so smart, why don't you be the first to try and throw off the Imperius Curse, eh?"
Without waiting for her response, Moody flicked his wand, casting the curse before she could react.
The command hit her mind like a wave, 'jump on the desk', it said. But she fought it, the command echoing in her head like a distant voice. Another command followed, 'slap the person next to you',but Hermione gritted her teeth, pushing against the force in her mind. The commands grew more aggressive, more forceful, but she stood her ground.
The struggle was visible to everyone in the room, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hermione managed to push the curse out of her mind, her breathing labored and her body trembling with effort.
Moody gave a low chuckle. "Well, well. Seems Miss Granger's got some fight in her. But don't get too comfortable. Dark wizards won't be so easy to fight. Alright, whos brave enough to go next"
Hermione didn't respond, her heart still racing as she sat back down, her hands trembling slightly.
The tension lingered in the air after the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Hermione could still feel the weight of the curse pressing against her mind. Though she had managed to throw off the Imperius Curse, the act of resisting had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. She knew Moody or Barty Crouch Jr., she reminded herself,was testing her, and the implications of that knowledge twisted uncomfortably in her gut..
As they made their way out of the class, Harry and Ron walked with her to lunch, their expressions a mix of awe and concern.
"Hermione," Harry began, "that was brilliant, but—are you okay? I've never seen you like that."
Ron nodded. "Yeah, are you sure you're not under some kind of spell?"
Hermione shook her head, her voice quieter now. "I'm fine. I just... Neville looked like he was about to cry. It's not okay to scare people like that, especially after what happened at the World Cup."
They didn't press further, though the worry lingered in their eyes.
Lunch passed in a blur, with Harry and Ron trying to distract her with light-hearted conversation, but Hermione's thoughts were on the Triwizard Cup. She stil had not planned on how to keep Moody Crouch from entering Harry in the tournament.
The day dragged on in a haze of uneventful classes after lunch. Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology passed with little excitement. The professors were clearly trying to settle the students into a routine, but Hermione found it hard to engage. Having to attend classes once more, was tedious, with all her knowledge.
The afternoon sun bathed the grounds of Hogwarts in a warm, golden light as Hermione, Harry, and Ron made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. The day had been quiet, a stark contrast to the tension of the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson earlier. Hermione still felt the weight of her confrontation with Moody, but she had managed to push it to the back of her mind. Now, the steady rhythm of school life was helping her settle back into something that felt almost like normalcy.
"Transfiguration was brutal today," Ron groaned, stretching his arms as they crossed the courtyard. "I thought McGonagall was going to turn me into a teapot when I got that last spell wrong."
Hermione, walking beside him, chuckled softly. " At least you didn't turn your desk into a puddle of goo like Seamus did."
"True," Ron said, his spirits lifting slightly. "But I reckon that's only because I didn't get that far. You of course didn't have any issues, is there anything you can't do?"
Harry grinned at the two of them, he was about to respond when a snotty voice interrupted.
"Well, well, if it isn't Scarhead, the Weasel, and the Mudblood."
The voice belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy, who stood leaning against the wall just outside the entrance to the hall. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him as usual, their brutish faces set in sneers.
Ron stopped abruptly, his ears already beginning to redden. "Shove off, Malfoy," he spat, turning to face Draco.
Hermione mentally groaned, she had made sure they took a different route to avoid the spectacle. She didn't want to see it again, didn't want to deal with that chaos on top of everything else. But, it seemed inevitable.
Harry, for once, didn't respond to Draco's taunts, surprising Hermione. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his jaw clenched. Hermione could tell he was trying to avoid a confrontation, something that rarely happened when Draco was involved.
But Draco wasn't about to let it go that easily. He smirked, stepping forward to block their path. "What's the matter, Potter? Having nightmares about the Dark Mark at the World Cup? Bet you're afraid your precious Dumbledore won't be able to protect you when it really matters."
Harry's eyes flashed with anger, but before he could say anything, Hermione stepped forward, her voice surprisingly steady. "Don't you ever get tired of this, Malfoy?" she asked, her tone cold and controlled. "You're not impressing anyone."
Draco's smirk faltered for a split second, and his gray eyes flicked to hers again. This time, his stare was harder, more focused. "Careful, Granger," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its usual mockery. "You never know who might be watching."
Hermione met his eyes, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Draco's usual sneer was still in place, but his eyes—there was something different. He stared at her a little too long, a little too intently. It wasn't the usual look of disdain or superiority. There was something else there—something almost unreadable.
After what felt like an eternity, Draco's sneer returned, and he stepped aside, waving them through. "Run along, blood traitor, wouldn't want you to miss an opportunity to shove food down your throat"
Before Ron could snap back, Hermione nudged him. "Let's just go," she muttered, her voice tight.
"Thanks for not turning that into a fist fight," Hermione said quietly to Harry as they walked away from the Slytherins. "I don't know if Ron could've held back much longer."
Harry nodded, "Sirius helped, we've been writing, and he told me..that I need to calm down, and not give Malfoy the satisfaction"
Hermione gave him a smile. "He's right, plus we don't need more trouble right now. Besides, Malfoy's not worth it."
By the time they entered the hall, it was buzzing with life. Students from all four houses were chattering excitedly about the upcoming school year, the Triwizard Tournament still the main topic of conversation. Hermione found herself listening to snippets of conversations as they made their way to the Gryffindor table, everyone seemed to be talking about the tournament, speculating about the tasks, wondering who would enter.
"Do you think Dumbledore will really let us enter?" Ron asked as they sat down. "I mean, there's the age line and all, but Fred and George seem convinced they can find a way around it."
Hermione rolled her eyes, already anticipating the trouble the twins were likely to cause. "I hope they don't try anything too reckless," she muttered, picking up her fork and poking at her food. "It's dangerous enough as it is."
"You're worried, aren't you?" Harry asked, glancing at her from across the table. "About the tournament."
"Of course I'm worried," Hermione replied, her voice quiet but firm. "People have died in the past. It's not something to take lightly."
Ron, clearly trying to lighten the mood, grinned. "Well, we're not old enough to enter, so I guess we're safe. Besides, you're more likely to die from Snape's Potions class than from the tournament."
That earned him a small smile from Harry, but Hermione couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her gut. No matter how much they joked or downplayed it, only she knew that danger was lurking closer than they realized.
The rest of the evening passed quietly enough. After a few hours spent in the common room finishing homework, Hermione found herself seated by the fire, a Transfiguration textbook open on her lap, but her mind wasn't on the material in front of her.
Instead, she kept replaying the day in her mind, the defense lesson, Draco's strange behavior, the subtle shifts in the timeline that she was starting to notice. Small changes, yes, but changes, nonetheless. She had prevented Draco's ferret incident, but it seemed like her actions were causing ripples elsewhere, even in Malfoy, Harry's Behavior, and Ron too, he seems nicer.
She sighed, closing her textbook and leaning back against the armchair. Ron and Harry were playing chess in the corner, the quiet clink of pieces moving filling the otherwise silent room. For a moment, everything felt normal.