Chapter 5: Fine
Hermione was running, her legs aching with every step. The corridors of Hogwarts stretched endlessly before her, but no matter how fast she ran, she couldn't escape the screams. Every sound, every cry, every spell echoing around her felt too real, too familiar. It was happening again.
She turned a corner, halting to a stop as she tumbled down, looking at what had tripped her, her eyes widened in horror. Harry laid on the floor, eyes wide and lifeless, his glasses lay crooked, his face pale. Hermione gasped, choking on her own breath as she sank to her knees beside him.
"It's your fault," Harry's voice whispered, cold and distant, though his lips didn't move. "You couldn't save me, Hermione. You can't save anyone. You did this to me"
She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "No, I—"
"You're a dark witch now," Ron's voice snapped from behind her. She turned to see him, standing with his wand raised, his face twisted in fury. "You killed them, didn't you? No one wants you, Hermione. Not after what you did. How could you"
"No, please!" she cried, scrambling to her feet, backing away from both of them. But everywhere she turned, there was death. The bodies of her friends, her family—everyone she had ever loved—littered the ground, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. And it was all her fault. She had failed them all.
"Stop!" she screamed, clenching her fists, but the voices only grew louder, echoing around her.
"You can't save anyone."
"Everyone you love dies because of you."
The darkness swirled, consuming her. It was suffocating, pressing in from all sides, dragging her deeper into the abyss.
"NO, NO, NO, NO..I'M SORRY…PLEASE"
Hermione jerked awake, gasping for air, her heart pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears. The room was dark, but the oppressive weight of the nightmare still clung to her, making it hard to breathe. Her sheets were tangled around her legs, soaked with sweat.
She pushed herself up, her entire body shaking as she tried to calm her racing heart. "It was just a dream," she whispered to herself, but the words felt hollow. The guilt and fear were all too real. She couldn't shake the image of Harry's lifeless eyes, Ron's accusing voice.
With a trembling sigh, Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was still early, the pale light of dawn barely seeping through the window. She had time before the others woke up, time to collect herself before the day began.
Today was the day the other schools would arrive for the Triwizard Tournament.
Pushing the nightmare from her mind, Hermione stood up, trying to focus on the tasks ahead. She moved automatically, dressing for the day. The mirror in the corner of the room showed her reflection—pale, with dark circles under her eyes, but she didn't have the energy to care. There were more important things to worry about.
Her mind whirled nonstop as she thought of how to prevent Harry's name from being entered into the Goblet of Fire. There had to be something she hadn't considered, some plan that could work. She ran through every scenario she could think of, trying to find a loophole, an angle she could exploit. But nothing felt right, if things didn't happen a certain way, then she wouldn't be able to predict the next move.
She made her way down the stairs, into the common room, hardly any students around but she heard the twins' voices before she saw them. Fred and George were huddled together, whispering excitedly about ways to outsmart the age line Dumbledore had placed around the Goblet.
"Are you two seriously considering this?" Hermione snapped, unable to contain her frustration as she marched over to them. "It's dangerous! Do you even know what could happen if—"
Fred raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Come on, Hermione, it's just a bit of fun."
"No, it's not!" she shot back, her voice trembling slightly. "This isn't a joke, Fred. People have died in this tournament!"
George opened his mouth to respond, but Fred stepped forward, his expression hardening. "You've been acting strange ever since the Cup, Hermione. What's going on with you?"
"I'm trying to keep you safe!" Hermione shouted, the weight of everything—her fear, her guilt, her helplessness—crashing down on her at once. "You don't understand. You can't—"
"Stop trying to control everything!" Fred snapped back. "We're not children, Hermione. We can make our own decisions. Just because you deem to be a know it all doesn't mean you can tell us what to do"
Tears stung at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Fine," she muttered, turning on her heel and storming out of the common room, leaving Fred and George behind.
After classes, the trio made their way out to the courtyard following the other students. Everyone they passed was filled with excitement at the arrival of the other schools.
"I wonder if they'll arrive on brooms or something," Ron mused as they made their way toward the students. "
"Flying would take ages wouldn't it? Isn't the French school well in France" Harry replied, "Maybe they've got something even more impressive than broomsticks."
Ron nodded eagerly. "Yeah!."
As they joined the growing crowd of students outside the castle, Hermione couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement herself. She had seen this before in her first life, but reliving it felt oddly surreal. The sight of Hogwarts students lining the entrance, chattering and carefree, brought a deep sense of guilt. In the not so distant future, all this would be destroyed.
Professor McGonagall and the other professors were already standing at the top of the steps, waiting for their foreign counterparts to arrive. The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with it. Hermione glanced over at the twins, Fred and George, who were standing a few feet away, their faces split into wide grins. Even they, with all their usual pranks and nonchalance, seemed excited by the spectacle.
Suddenly, a sharp gasp came from the crowd, followed by pointing and excited murmurs. Everyone's attention snapped toward the horizon.
A large, majestic carriage, drawn by a dozen pure-white winged horses, was soaring through the sky, growing larger as it approached the castle. The horses' wings flapped gracefully, their movements synchronized as they descended toward Hogwarts, the carriage gleaming in the afternoon sun.
"Wow…" Harry breathed, his eyes wide in awe.
Ron gaped. "Is that… is that a carriage?"
Hermione nodded, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself. "Yes, it looks like it."
The Beauxbatons carriage swooped lower, its horses landing with a soft thud on the grass outside the castle gates. The students watched, mesmerized, as the massive carriage rolled to a stop. It was as large as a small house, pale blue and adorned with intricate silver designs. As the doors swung open, the students from Beauxbatons began to step out.
They were dressed elegantly in pale blue uniforms, their movements graceful and coordinated. At their head was Madame Maxime, a giant of a woman, her towering figure impossible to miss. She strode down the steps of the carriage with an air of regality, her dark eyes sweeping across the crowd with an appraising gaze.
"Blimey," Ron muttered. "She's huge!"
Hermione shot him a look. "Don't be rude, Ron."
As Madame Maxime and her students made their way up the steps, Dumbledore stepped forward to greet them. There was a moment of hushed awe as the Beauxbatons students gathered at the entrance, their polished appearance a stark contrast to the more relaxed and rugged demeanor of the Hogwarts students.
The Beauxbatons group was soon followed by another murmur of excitement from the crowd. This time, all eyes turned toward the lake. The surface of the water was rippling unnaturally, small waves moving outward as though something massive was approaching beneath it.
"Look!" someone cried, pointing at the lake.
From the depths of the water, a massive ship began to rise, water cascading down its sides as it emerged from the lake's surface. The ship was old and weathered, its sails billowing in the breeze, but it exuded an air of formidable power.
The ship docked at the shore, and a large plank lowered with a heavy thud onto the grass. Durmstrang students, dressed in dark fur-lined cloaks, began to file out, their expressions serious and focused. At their head was Igor Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang, his sharp features twisted into an arrogant smile as he surveyed the Hogwarts grounds.
"That's the Durmstrang lot?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing. "They look like they're all ready to duel someone."
"Durmstrang has a reputation for being more… focused on the Dark Arts," Hermione explained, her eyes following Karkaroff as he made his way toward Dumbledore. "They emphasize combat magic, so it makes sense that their students would be a bit more... intimidating."
As Karkaroff greeted Dumbledore, Viktor Krum—Durmstrang's most famous student—stepped forward from the group, his brooding face unmistakable. Hermione could practically feel the ripple of excitement go through the crowd as whispers of his name spread like wildfire.
"That's Viktor Krum!" Harry whispered, his eyes wide with amazement. "Look Ron!"
"Bloody Hell, it is Krum!, you think he will sit with us?" Ron said, his eyes shining with excitement.
Hermione glanced at Krum, who looked uncomfortable with all the attention.
As the students from both schools gathered near the entrance, the atmosphere was charged with excitement. Hogwarts students whispered among themselves, pointing out the Beauxbatons girls and the Durmstrang boys, speculating on who would be chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.
But amid the excitement, Hermione couldn't relax. The arrival of the other schools, it all served as a reminder of what was coming. The Goblet of Fire would soon choose its champions, along with Harry's name.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. At dinner, Hermione sat stiffly, her eyes darting to Professor Moody every now and then. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her whenever he was in the room. Every movement, every glance, felt calculated, as though he was watching her, waiting for her to slip up.
The Durmstrand and Beauxbatons had once again taken the same seats, and everyone enjoyed dinner.
After the long day, she excused herself and turned in for the night.
She tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, her thoughts spiraling. Finally, unable to bear the suffocating silence any longer, she decided to head to the kitchens. Maybe a cup of hot chocolate would help soothe her nerves.
As she made her way through the darkened corridors, she nearly bumped into someone coming from the opposite direction. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was Fred.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Same as you, I reckon," Fred replied, his tone softer than before. "Couldn't sleep."
"I..I was just going to get a Hot Chocolate from the Kitchen" She replied softly.
"And how do you know where the kitchens are?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrow.
"Hogwarts A History" She said confidently.
"Well then, I'll go with you" Fred grinned.
As Hermione and Fred made their way to the kitchens, the silence between them wasn't awkward, but it was thick with unspoken words. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the stone walls, and Hermione's mind was racing, trying to find the right way to address the tension between them. The fight earlier still stung, but now that they were alone, she found it hard to hold on to her anger.
Fred, walking beside her, glanced over every now and then, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. His usual playful grin was replaced by something softer, something more thoughtful, and it made her heart flutter in a way that surprised her.
When they reached the kitchen door, Fred muttered the password, and the entrance swung open to reveal the familiar warmth of the Hogwarts kitchens. The house-elves bustled about, working cheerfully even at this late hour. Fred led her over to a small table near the hearth, and they sat down in the cozy glow of the fire.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Hermione fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, avoiding Fred's gaze, while Fred tapped his fingers on the table, as if searching for the right words. The fire crackled softly in the silence, casting a warm, golden light on their faces.
Finally, Fred broke the silence. "I'm sorry about earlier, Hermione," he said quietly, his voice unusually serious. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I know you're just trying to look out for us."
Hermione looked up, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were softer than she was used to, filled with genuine regret. She could see that the playful mask Fred usually wore had slipped, revealing something more real, more vulnerable.
"I'm sorry too," Hermione said, her voice just above a whisper. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I just… I worry. About all of you. About everything."
Fred leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know you do. That's one of the things I admire about you, Hermione. You care so much. But sometimes… you just need to relax"
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard, she wasn't sure how to respond.
"I just… I can't stand the thought of something happening to any of you," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "Especially Harry, not after what happened at the World Cup, And I—" She hesitated, glancing down at her hands. "I hate feeling like I can't control what's going to happen."
Fred reached across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. The touch was brief, so subtle that it almost didn't happen, but it sent a shiver up Hermione's spine.
"You don't have to control everything," Fred said softly. "Nothing is going to happen, Hermione, not here, but you're not alone in this."
She gave him a small, hesitant smile. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I needed to hear that."
Fred smiled back, but this time it was different from his usual grin. It was softer, warmer, and it made Hermione's heart skip a beat. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them now comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding.
As they sat there, the firelight flickering around them, Fred tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying her face with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that made the air between them feel charged. Hermione felt her cheeks flush, and she quickly looked away, unsure of what to make of the feelings swirling inside her.
"So, how about that hot chocolate?" Fred said, breaking the moment with a grin, though there was a softness in his voice that hadn't been there before.
Hermione let out a small laugh, grateful for the distraction. "That sounds perfect."
Fred stood and moved toward the fireplace where the house-elves had left a tray of hot chocolate and snacks. As he grabbed the hot chocolate, Hermione watched him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over her. There was something about being here with him, something about the way he looked at her, that made her feel lighter, like she wasn't carrying the world's weight for once.
When Fred returned with two steaming mugs, he handed one to Hermione and sat down beside her, closer this time. Their shoulders almost touched, and the proximity sent a thrill through her that she tried to ignore.
They sipped their hot chocolate in comfortable silence, the warmth of the drink and the fire soothing her nerves. After a few minutes, Fred glanced over at her, his expression thoughtful.
"You know," he said, his voice low, "I wasn't just saying that before. You don't have to go through all of this alone."
Hermione looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "I know," she whispered. "But sometimes it feels like I do."
Fred reached out, this time deliberately, and gently placed his hand over hers. His touch was warm, steady, and it sent a wave of comfort through her. "You don't," he repeated softly. "Not as long as I'm around."
The moment stretched between them, their eyes locked, and Hermione felt something shift inside her. She didn't know what this was, this feeling between them.
Fred's hand lingered on hers for a moment longer before he pulled back, his usual grin returning, though his eyes still held that quiet intensity. "Well, if you ever need someone to sneak down to the kitchens with, you know where to find me."
Hermione laughed softly, the tension easing. "I'll keep that in mind."
As they finished their drinks and stood to leave, Hermione felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate or the fire. Something had changed between her and Fred tonight, something she wasn't sure she fully understood yet. But as they walked back to the common room side by side, Hermione found herself smiling,really smiling,for the first time in what felt like ages. Rest came easy after that.
The next morning, the tension of the upcoming Triwizard Tournament hung heavy in the air. As Hermione made her way down to breakfast, she caught sight of Fred and George, huddled together near the Goblet of Fire. Her heart sank as she watched them slip a flask from their robes and drink from it, then stride confidently toward the Goblet.
Just like in her first life, they were trying to cheat the age line.
The scene unfolded just as she remembered it from her first life: Fred and George confidently approached the Goblet of Fire, their faces lit with mischievous determination. Hermione watched from the shadows, her heart pounding as she silently willed them to stop. The aging potion they had brewed wouldn't work. She knew it. She had seen this happen before.
The twins reached the edge of the age line, their steps sure and unhesitating. Fred gave George a final glance, a smirk pulling at his lips, before they both stepped forward. For a minute, it seemed as though they had succeeded. They crossed the magical boundary without issue, and Hermione held her breath, waiting for the inevitable.
Then, in an instant, the magic reacted. Both Fred and George were thrown back, tumbling head over heels across the stone floor, landing in a tangled heap near the base of the Goblet Then once again, white beards sprouted from their chins.
The hall erupted in laughter, students from every house pointing and jeering at the Weasley twins. Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration at their recklessness, but the sight of their ridiculous beards softened her anger, and she found herself stifling a laugh.
"Well, that could've gone better," Fred muttered as he untangled himself from George, stroking his newly grown beard with a mix of amusement and resignation.
George snorted. "You think?."
Hermione finally stepped forward, her arms crossed as she stared down at them. "I told you not to try anything."
Fred grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief despite the failure. "We thought it was worth a shot."
"You're lucky you didn't get hurt," she said, though her tone was more exasperated than angry. She didn't want to admit that a part of her was relieved, that at least this small part of history was unchanged. It gave her a sense of stability, even if everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
As Fred and George stood up, brushing themselves off, the laughter from the crowd began to die down. Hermione noticed the briefest flicker of discomfort cross Fred's face as he caught her eye, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
"Alright, Miss Know-It-All," Fred teased, the grin back on his face. "We'll leave the dangerous stunts to the professionals next time."
"Good," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "The last thing I need is another hospital wing visit because of your idiotic plans."
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of lessons and idle chatter, but Hermione was only half-listening. Her mind was fixated on the Goblet, on the approaching moment when the champions would be chosen. She had gone through so many plans, so many potential ways to keep Harry's name out of the tournament, but each one had crumbled under the weight of inevitability. No matter what she did, some things needed to happen. The tournament had to happen, to be able to destroy Riddle in the end.
By the time evening fell, the entire school was buzzing with anticipation. Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang filled the Great Hall, their faces alight with excitement as they waited for Dumbledore to make his announcement. The Goblet of Fire stood at the front of the room, glowing faintly with a magical light, its flames dancing in the dim candlelight.
Hermione sat with Harry and Ron, her heart racing as she glanced between them and the Goblet.
Dumbledore stood and raised his hands, signaling the room to quiet down. The hall fell silent, and the anticipation became almost unbearable.
"Silence now, the grand moment is here!," Dumbledore said, his voice calm but filled with excitement. "The Goblet of Fire is about to make its decision. When the flames turn red, the chosen champions will be revealed."
The room was still as everyone turned their eyes to the Goblet. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest, her breath shallow as she watched the flames flicker and change color. The tension in the air was palpable, and even though she knew what was coming, she couldn't stop the fear from creeping up her spine.
Suddenly, the flames shot up, turning a brilliant red. The first name was spat out of the Goblet, and Dumbledore caught the slip of parchment in his hand.
"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore announced, "is Viktor Krum."
A round of applause erupted, and Hermione clapped along with everyone else, but her mind was elsewhere, racing ahead to what was coming next.
The flames rose again, and the second name appeared.
"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour."
More cheers, more applause, but Hermione barely registered it. She was holding her breath now, her eyes locked on the Goblet. Just one more. Just one more name, and maybe—maybe this time it would be different.
The flames flickered one last time, and Dumbledore reached out, catching the final slip of parchment. His eyes scanned the name, and Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach.
"The champion for Hogwarts," he said, "is Cedric Diggory."
The flames flared, hotter and brighter than before. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she watched in a quiet sadness, as another piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet, and Dumbledore's face darkened as he caught it.
"There has been... an unexpected addition," Dumbledore said slowly. He looked down at the slip of parchment, his expression unreadable. "Harry Potter."
The room erupted in chaos. Gasps, whispers, and shouts filled the hall as every pair of eyes turned to Harry. He looked as shocked as everyone else, his face pale and confused.
"No," Hermione whispered, her heart sinking. "No, not again."
She watched as Harry was ushered forward, as the teachers gathered around, their faces a mixture of disbelief and concern. Everything was happening just as it had before. Despite all her efforts, despite everything she had done, she hadn't been able to change it.
Harry was going to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, but this time, things would go her way.
