Chapter 14

As the days passed, the weight of Hermione's secret knowledge pressed down on her more heavily than ever. She had always been the type to overthink, to plan for every possible outcome, but this time, the stakes were higher. She wasn't just preparing for a test or helping Harry win a tournament, she was trying to alter the future, one that had already happened to her. And as much as she tried to keep herself grounded, she could feel herself lost in the sea. Her books were a comfort, but none of them offered the answers she sought. Her head ached from the weight of the choices she had to make.

Each morning brought a fresh reminder of the impending danger, a reminder of the little time left. Her mind never rested. Every interaction with Harry, Viktor, or the other champions was calculated. Every moment of training was an opportunity for her to subtly nudge them in the right direction without giving too much away. She couldn't risk anyone suspecting that she knew more than she let on.

One afternoon, as Harry and Cedric dueled in the courtyard, Hermione sat nearby, pretending to be immersed in a book. The thought of Cedric weighed heavily on her mind. In her last timeline, he had died, an innocent caught in the crossfire. But what would happen if she changed that? Could she save his life without altering the course of everything else? Could she prevent his death, or would her interference only lead to greater consequences?

Her eyes roamed across the sentences, but no real plan formed in her mind. She couldn't tell Harry about the cup. She couldn't tell him about Pettigrew. She couldn't tell anyone. The weight of that silence felt unbearable at times, like a vise tightening around her chest.

The plan she had was simple enough in theory: ensure Harry survived the maze, capture Peter Pettigrew before Voldemort's resurrection, save Cedric, let Voldemort return. But the execution was where things became murky. The maze itself was unpredictable, and there were factors Hermione couldn't control. Not to mention, she had to do all of this without revealing the truth to anyone.

As she glanced up at Harry, watching him struggle with a new dueling technique Cedric was teaching him, her stomach churned. He had no idea what awaited him. None of them did. And it was all on her to make sure they came out of it alive.

Viktor approached her quietly, taking a seat beside her. His presence was grounding, and for a moment, Hermione felt like she could breathe again.

"Herm-own-ninny," Viktor greeted, his deep voice tinged with concern. "You are always studying. Even now."

Hermione offered him a small smile, closing her book as he sat beside her on the bench. Viktor had been a constant presence in her life lately, a quiet, steady comfort in the midst of all the chaos. She appreciated his company, but she knew his feelings for her were deeper than she could reciprocate. Not in this new time.

"I'm just keeping busy," she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "There's always something to prepare for."

Viktor's brow furrowed slightly as he glanced over at Harry and Cedric, still locked in their duel. "You worry too much, Herm-own-ninny. You carry too much."

Hermione's smile faltered. He had no idea how much she carried. How could he? No one knew the weight of the future like she did. No one understood the burden of knowing what was to come, of trying to alter it without tearing everything apart.

"I'm fine," she said softly, though her heart wasn't in the words. "It's just..."

Viktor's dark eyes remained on her, his gaze intense but gentle. "You are not alone. You have me."

The sincerity in his voice made Hermione's chest tighten. She wasn't used to someone offering that kind of support, not like this. Viktor had become someone she could rely on, someone she could trust. But she couldn't let herself get too close. She couldn't afford to let anyone distract her from what she needed to do.

"I know," she whispered, looking down at her hands. "But this is something I have to figure out on my own."

Viktor was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "You are strong, Herm-own-ninny. But even the strong need help. Don't forget that."

Hermione swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to respond. Viktor's concern, his loyalty—it was genuine, and that made it even harder. She couldn't afford to let anyone in, not when everything was so precariously balanced.

"I'll be fine," she repeated, trying to convince herself as much as him. "I have to be."

Viktor watched her for a long moment, his hand brushing hers briefly before he stood. "You will alvays have me," he said quietly, before walking toward Harry and Cedric to watch their duel.

Hermione watched him go; her heart heavy. She wished she could accept Viktor's offer of help, of support, but she knew she couldn't. Not when so much was at stake.

The weight of the Triwizard Tournament and the resurrection of Voldemort hung over her like a storm, and every step she took felt like walking on a razor's edge. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart.

She had to be careful.


It was well past curfew, the castle's corridors empty save for the occasional flicker of torchlight. Hermione had retreated to the Astronomy Tower, needing space and time to think. She had spent hours planning for the final task, but there were still too many uncertainties. The weight of what was to come, of all she knew from the future, pressed down on her.

The cool breeze from the open window stirred her hair as she opened her diary, quill poised in her hand, ready to write—but no words came. Instead, she stared out at the stars, her mind a whirlwind of plans, dangers, and consequences. Cedric. Harry. Voldemort. Pettigrew. There were so many threads to pull, and so many ways for things to unravel if she wasn't careful.

A soft noise broke her thoughts. Hermione's hand froze over the parchment, her grip tightening around the quill. She turned her head, half expecting to see a prefect or even Professor McGonagall on patrol.

But it was neither.

Draco Malfoy stood at the top of the stairs; his expression unreadable. He didn't seem surprised to find her there—after all, they had crossed paths here before. It wasn't exactly their spot, but there was an understanding between them in this space. Neither of them questioned the other's presence.

"Granger," he greeted, his voice low and even, giving away nothing.

"Malfoy," she replied evenly, keeping her expression neutral. "I didn't think anyone would be up here tonight."

Draco smirked, though there was something more guarded in his demeanor. "Nor did I, but it seems we both have a habit of seeking out quiet places to think."

For a moment, there was silence between them. The flickering light of the torches cast long shadows across Draco's face, making it hard for Hermione to read him. He glanced out of the window, as if considering something before he spoke.

"Didn't know you actually do a lot of thinking, Malfoy" She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Draco's eyes flickered with something—was it amusement? "Funny how people always assume things about me," he said lightly, though his voice held a touch of bitterness.

Hermione didn't answer right away. She glanced at him briefly before turning her gaze back to the sky. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco's lips curved into a smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Can't a bloke get some fresh air without wanting something? Maybe I just enjoy the view."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, though she still didn't fully face him. "Somehow, I doubt that. You didn't come up here to talk about the stars."

Draco shrugged, his eyes scanning her as though searching for something. "Maybe not. But you and I… we've had this little routine going, haven't we?

Hermione's eyes flickered back to him, not saying a word.

Draco chuckled, leaning against the ledge, his eyes fixed on the sky. "You're right, stargazing isn't really my thing. But you… you've become something of a puzzle, Granger. And I do like solving puzzles."

Hermione tensed. "I'm not a puzzle, Malfoy."

"Aren't you?" he asked, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione looked away, her fingers tracing the edges of the stone beneath her.

Draco tilted his head, studying her, his expression unreadable. " Like I said, You made some waves when you freed Sirius Black. More than you realize."

Hermione's stomach tightened, but she kept her face neutral. "I didn't do it alone. Harry and I—Sirius deserved to be free"

"Stop pretending you're not the one pulling the strings," Draco interrupted, his voice soft but sharp. "I don't know what game you're playing, Granger, but remember people are starting to notice. Important people."

Hermione's pulse quickened, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Is that what we are doing, playing a game?"

Draco chuckled, though there was no humor in it. " But you should know that my father… he's watching you. Closely."

Hermione's pulse quickened, but she kept her face neutral. "Your father's always had an issue with anyone who doesn't fit his little pureblood mold. Mudbloods after all, aren't worth his time"

Draco's expression hardened slightly, his smirk fading. "He sees you as a threat, Granger. Not just because you helped Potter, but because you freed a Black. The House of Black might be tainted in my father's eyes, but it's still powerful. And you've aligned yourself with it. Whether you meant to or not."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Draco hesitated, his usual arrogance slipping for a moment. "Because… I've been told to keep an eye on you."

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. "And are you doing that now?"

Draco smirked again, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like coming up here to see what you're plotting."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her voice dry. "Since when do you care about what I am doing, Malfoy?"

"Since it started getting interesting," he shot back, leaning against the stone wall, the cold moonlight casting sharp shadows across his face.

Hermione sighed, and asked "What does your father care about what I'm doing? This tournament is hardly his concern."

Draco's eyes flicked to the horizon, his expression unreadable. "You'd be surprised. He watches everything—especially when it involves people who shouldn't be meddling in certain affairs. And right now, he sees you as a... complication."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but she kept her voice steady. "I'm not meddling in anything. I'm helping my friends. Something you wouldn't understand."

Draco's smirk faltered, just for a moment. "Helping your friends? Is that what this is? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're playing a very different game."

His words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken meaning. Hermione's heart pounded, but she refused to let it show. "If you've come up here to deliver a warning, you can leave. I don't need advice from you, Malfoy."

"Who said anything about advice?" Draco's voice was light, but his gaze remained intense. "I'm just pointing out the obvious. You've got everyone fooled, Granger—except maybe me. And if I've figured out that you're not just some bookish know-it-all anymore, it's only a matter of time before others do too."

Hermione's mouth went dry, but she forced herself to remain calm. "And what exactly do you think I'm up to?"

Draco didn't answer right away. Instead, his eyes flicked downward, catching sight of the ring on her finger. His expression shifted, the smirk fading as something colder and sharper took its place. "Nice ring."

Hermione instinctively moved her hand, but the damage was done. Draco's gaze remained fixed on the silver band. "I didn't realize you'd been fully inducted into the House of Black."

Hermione swallowed, her mind racing. She hadn't expected Draco to notice, let alone understand the significance of the ring. "It was a gift from Sirius. It doesn't mean anything."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. "Doesn't it? Figures Black would give you and Potter that. All pureblood families do it for their children."

Hermione's pulse quickened, but she forced herself to stay calm. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth, as he lifted his left hand, a glint of silver shining on his finger caught her attention. "It's a tradition. Pureblood families give their children family pieces like that at age 11. It's old magic."

Hermione frowned, feeling the weight of the ring more keenly now. She had known the significance of being brought into the House of Black, but she hadn't thought about the deeper implications. "And why do you care?"

Draco tilted his head, his gaze still fixed on her hand. "I don't, really. But that kind of magic—it's not just for show. Family rings carry protections. You should probably ask Black what he left hidden in there for you."

Hermione's fingers tightened around the ring. "Are you saying it's enchanted?"

"Maybe," Draco replied cryptically, his tone light but his eyes watchful. "Or maybe it's just a family heirloom. But I doubt someone like Black would give you something without it having a purpose. Purebloods don't operate that way."

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine, but she kept her face neutral. "Thanks for the tip, Malfoy. I'll be sure to check."

Draco gave a small, almost lazy shrug. "Do what you want. Just thought it was interesting to see you wearing something that ties you to an old family. Welcome to the world of pureblood legacies, Granger. You're in deeper than you think."

Hermione's gaze sharpened, but before she could respond, Draco turned on his heel, heading for the door to the stairwell. Just before he disappeared down the steps, he paused, glancing back at her one last time. His eyes flicked to the ring again before meeting hers.

"Tell Potter good luck in the maze. He's going to need it."

And with that, Draco was gone, leaving Hermione standing alone in the tower, her heart racing.

She looked down at the ring, Draco's words echoing in her mind. The idea that the ring could be enchanted with more than just family symbolism sent a spark of curiosity through her. If there was hidden magic inside, could it be the key to helping Harry survive the third task?

Hermione's mind raced with possibilities. She would have to ask Sirius about the ring. She had to know what it was truly capable of, especially with the final task looming. If this ring could offer any kind of advantage, she needed to understand it—and fast.


Hermione sat by the window in the Gryffindor common room, the flickering fire casting long shadows against the walls. The rest of the house had yet to awaken, leaving her alone with the soft hum of her thoughts and the rhythmic ticking of the old clock by the fireplace. She hadn't been able to sleep much, lost in her own mind, trying to reconcile the weight of her future knowledge with the decisions she needed to make.

Sitting in front of her on the desk was the small glass jar. Inside, the beetle—Rita Skeeter in her Animagus form—crawled around restlessly, its wings flickering every now and then. Hermione absently watched her movements, the small creature scuttling against the sides of the jar.

"I suppose you're wondering what my plan is," Hermione said softly, more to herself than to the beetle. "Not that I expect you to understand."

The beetle buzzed in response, a frantic, restless sound, but Hermione paid it no mind. Her fingers traced the edge of the jar as she continued speaking, her voice low and thoughtful. "You always had a way of twisting things, didn't you? The way you wrote about Harry, Sirius… even me. It's impressive, in a way. The power you had over people, over their reputations. A few words here, a little innuendo there… and suddenly, the world sees them differently."

Hermione paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But you've never been in control, have you? Not really. It's always been about manipulating others."

"But I'm not like you," she continued, her voice firmer now. "I don't need to twist the truth to get what I want. I'm not interested in playing your little games, Rita."

The beetle buzzed again, more frantically this time, but Hermione's expression remained calm. She had always believed in doing what was right. That was what separated her from people like Rita Skeeter. Rita twisted things for her own gain, for the thrill of tearing others down. Hermione, on the other hand, had a purpose. She wasn't playing games. She was trying to protect Harry, to save the future.

"I'm not a monster," Hermione said, her tone contemplative. "You probably think I am, trapping you in here like this. But I could've done worse, couldn't I? I could have let you ruin more lives. This… this is nothing compared to the damage you've caused."

The words left her lips with an ease that surprised her, and for a moment, Hermione wondered if she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. But there was no guilt, no second-guessing. Keeping Rita contained was necessary. It was the right thing to do.

Hermione stood, placing the jar back on the desk. "I suppose I'll let you out when this is all over. Maybe. Until then… well, you'll just have to wait."

She turned away from the desk, her thoughts already shifting back to the Triwizard Tournament and the dangers that lay ahead. The third task loomed ever closer, and Hermione knew that the maze wasn't just a challenge for the tournament—it was a death trap waiting to ensnare Harry. And she wasn't going to stop it, but change the outcome.

But how?

Her mind raced through the possibilities, each one more desperate than the last. The ring on her finger felt heavier than ever, the cool metal pressing against her skin as a reminder of the power she now held. Sirius had given it to her as a symbol of her place in the House of Black, but there was more to it than that. She could feel it.

The key to everything might lie within this ring. She just needed to figure out what it could do.

After placing the jar back on her desk, Hermione sat down at the table to write her letter to Sirius.


Dear Sirius,

Thank you for the ring. It's beautiful, but you didn't have to go through the trouble. I know that you mean well, but I'm not sure I fully understand its significance. It feels like more than just a symbol of family. Is there something more I should know?

It's strange, but I feel like there's a kind of power in it, something beyond protection or tradition. I can't quite explain it, but I thought it best to ask you directly.

I hope I'm not sounding ungrateful. You've done so much for Harry and me already.

With love,
Hermione


She set the letter aside and leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting back to the jar. It was strange how easy it was to compartmentalize everything now. She could go from writing a letter to Sirius to trapping someone in a jar without flinching. There was no guilt. It was just a matter of practicality.

Hermione sighed and glanced out of the window, her mind already running through the next steps. The third task was approaching fast, and she needed to come up with a way to protect Harry, to save Cedric, and to ensure that everything went according to plan.

But the ring… there was something about it, something that Draco had hinted at. If it really was more than just a family token, if it held some kind of magic… then maybe, just maybe, it could be the key to keeping Harry safe.

And she had to find out before it was too late.


The late afternoon sun bathed the grounds of Hogwarts in a golden glow, the soft breeze carrying the scent of the Black Lake across the field. It was a perfect day for practice, but the tension among the small group gathered near the lake was palpable. The Triwizard Tournament's final task loomed closer with each passing hour, and every moment felt precious.

Harry stood in the open field, his wand raised, sweat beading on his brow as he faced both Cedric and Viktor. The two older champions had offered to help him prepare for the maze, and while Harry had initially felt intimidated by the idea of dueling them both at once, he knew he needed every advantage he could get.

"Keep your guard up, Harry," Cedric called out, his voice firm but encouraging. He flicked his wand and sent a Stupefy curse toward Harry.

Harry barely managed to deflect it, but before he could catch his breath, Viktor's deep voice boomed across the field. "You are too slow, Harry. You must anticipate!"

A second spell shot toward Harry from Viktor's wand, and Harry ducked, narrowly avoiding the blast. His heart raced as he spun around to face both champions, his wand still raised, trying to keep track of their movements.

Cedric moved quickly, his feet barely making a sound as he advanced. "You can't just defend, Harry. You have to strike back. If you're always on the defensive, you'll tire yourself out."

Harry gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling up inside him. He was trying his best, but fighting both Cedric and Viktor at the same time was overwhelming. Every time he blocked one spell, another came at him from a different direction.

"Come on, Harry!" Viktor shouted, his accent thick with intensity. "You are too cautious. You vill lose if you don't fight back!"

Harry's mind raced as he tried to anticipate their next moves. He knew they were right—he couldn't just keep blocking. He needed to go on the offensive. With a determined flick of his wand, he sent a Disarming Charm toward Cedric, hoping to catch him off guard.

Cedric smirked, easily dodging the spell. "Good! But faster, Harry. You need to be faster."

Harry's frustration mounted, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Viktor sent another blast of magic his way, and this time, Harry responded with a Shield Charm, the force of it pushing Viktor back a step.

"Better!" Viktor barked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You are learning."

As Harry dueled with Cedric and Viktor, Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of pride mixed with unease. She watched as Harry deflected Cedric's spells with increasing agility and confidence, sending retaliatory hexes that were sharp and precise. This Harry was different from the boy she had first met on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago. He wasn't the same meek, wide-eyed boy who had been overwhelmed by the wizarding world. He wasn't the same Harry from her previous life either, the one who had so often stumbled his way through danger, relying on luck and others to save him.

No, this Harry was growing into someone stronger—someone who was beginning to understand the weight of his role in the wizarding world. He had started training seriously, not just with her, but with Cedric and Viktor as well. That was something she hadn't anticipated when she'd been thrust back into this timeline. She hadn't counted on Harry forging such close connections with the other champions, or for Cedric and Viktor to become invested in helping Harry. In the previous timeline, they had been competitors, and Harry had largely faced the tournament's challenges alone.

But now, things were different. Harry was different.

Hermione's eyes flicked over to Viktor, who was watching Harry with the intense focus of someone who took everything seriously. Viktor had never been one for casual conversation, but in the time they had spent together, she had seen a softer, more protective side of him. She had expected him to be a distant champion, someone who would merely go through the motions of the tournament, but he had become a mentor of sorts to Harry. And Cedric... Cedric had always been noble, but he was now acting like an older brother, guiding Harry through dueling techniques with patience and care.

I didn't plan for this, Hermione thought, her mind racing. I didn't account for these connections—these friendships. I thought I'd have to carry all of this on my own, but now...

She let out a quiet sigh, her eyes lingering on Harry as he dodged a curse from Viktor. He was learning so quickly, faster than she had imagined, and it left her both proud and deeply unsettled. In the original timeline, Harry had always struggled with training, relying more on instinct than preparation. But this time, he was honing his skills with the help of Cedric and Viktor. It made her wonder: Would this change everything? Or were they all still hurtling toward the same inevitable fate?

A part of her had hoped that by being here, by guiding Harry, she could prevent him from falling into the same traps. She had thought that if she played her cards right, she could keep Voldemort from rising again, or at least minimize the damage. But the deeper they got into the tournament, the more she realized how little control she actually had. The future was shifting, yes, but it wasn't entirely in her hands. She had set things in motion, but now the consequences were outpacing her plans.

She watched as Harry hit Viktor with a Disarming Spell, and Viktor's wand flew out of his hand, landing a few feet away in the grass. Viktor smiled, clapping Harry on the back in approval. "Good, Potter," he said, his voice filled with gruff pride. "You are learning to be aggressive. But you must still be faster."

Cedric, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. "Exactly. The maze won't wait for you to think. You'll need to be ready to act without hesitation. No second-guessing."

Harry grinned, though it was clear he was exhausted. "I'll get there," he said, his breath coming in heavy pants. "Thanks for all the help. I wouldn't have stood a chance without you two."

Hermione's heart tightened as she listened. In her previous life, Harry had carried so much of the burden on his own. Yes, she and Ron had been there to help him, but there had always been a distance between Harry and others when it came to shouldering the weight of being the Chosen One. Now, that weight seemed lighter, shared among the champions.

But is it enough? Hermione wondered, her thoughts darkening. Is it enough to change what's coming?

Her hand brushed against the ring on her finger, the cold metal a constant reminder of the unexpected path her life had taken. Sirius had given her the ring as a symbol of her new place in the House of Black, but after her conversation with Draco, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that. If the ring was a portkey—if it could be used to protect her or Harry when the time came—then maybe it could change the outcome of the third task. Maybe it could save them both.

But even as she clung to that hope, a voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts. Could she really change what was to come? Or was she simply delaying the inevitable?

"Hermione," Harry called out, breaking her from her thoughts. "What do you think? Should I practice using more offensive spells or work on defense?"

She blinked, pulling herself back to the present. "I think you're doing great with both, but remember, the maze will have more than just magical obstacles. You'll need to be prepared for anything—creatures, traps, even other competitors trying to sabotage you."

Harry nodded, though his brow furrowed in concern. "Yeah, that's what I'm worried about. It's not just about getting to the cup first, is it?"

"No," Cedric agreed, his tone serious. "It's about surviving the maze. The cup is secondary."

Viktor, still standing beside Harry, crossed his arms and looked toward the distant edge of the forest. "In the end, only one of us vill make it through. You must be ready to face anything—and anyone."

The tension between the champions was palpable now, the friendly camaraderie from earlier giving way to the harsh reality of what the third task would bring. They were allies now, but once they entered the maze, they would be competitors again.

Hermione's chest tightened as she realized that no matter how much Harry prepared, no matter how many alliances he made, the danger would always be there. And she was running out of time to figure out how to save him—and Cedric.

Luna Lovegood sat beside her, her eyes dreamily focused on the group in front of them. "He's doing better, don't you think?" she asked, her voice as airy as ever.

Hermione glanced at her, surprised at how perceptive Luna could be despite her usual detachment. "Yes," Hermione admitted. "But the maze will be different. Like I told him, It won't just be spells he has to face."

Luna nodded serenely. "I suppose there could be all sorts of creatures in there. I'd imagine a Nargle or two might make an appearance."

Hermione couldn't help but smile faintly at Luna's comment, though her mind remained on the maze.

Across the field, Harry stumbled slightly as he tried to dodge another spell from Cedric, his exhaustion beginning to show. Cedric lowered his wand, offering Harry a hand up. "You're doing great, Harry. You just need to work on your reflexes."

Harry accepted the hand, panting slightly as he got to his feet. "You two make it look easy," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Viktor stepped forward, his expression stern but not unkind. "You vill get there. But you must be willing to push yourself beyond vhat you think you can do."

Cedric nodded in agreement. "Viktor's right. In the maze, there won't be anyone to help you. You'll need to rely on your instincts. Trust yourself."

Harry looked between the two of them, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew they were right. The maze was going to be the hardest thing he had ever faced, and he needed to be ready. But no matter how much he practiced, he couldn't shake the feeling that something far worse was waiting for him in there.

"Thanks," Harry said, trying to catch his breath. "I'll keep practicing."

Cedric clapped him on the back. "You're doing great, Harry. Just don't give up."

As the group began to relax, Viktor turned to Hermione, his dark eyes softening slightly. "You are watching him closely," he observed, his voice quieter now that the dueling had ended.

Hermione smiled slightly, though there was a tension in her eyes. "I just want to make sure he's ready."

"You care for him deeply, you make sure he practice" Viktor said, his gaze steady.

Hermione hesitated, glancing away. "I'm just trying to make sure he gets out alive."

Viktor studied her for a moment before nodding. " Just revember, I vill always be here for you, Herm-own-ninny," he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity.

Hermione felt a pang of guilt at his words. Viktor's loyalty and affection were clear, but she couldn't afford to let anyone get too close—not when the stakes were this high.

"Thank you, Viktor," she said quietly, her voice barely audible. "That means a lot."

From where Luna sat, she watched the exchange with her usual calm demeanor, but there was a strange flicker of understanding in her eyes. "You're all preparing for something bigger than you realize," she said dreamily, her gaze drifting toward the lake. "The stars are shifting. Things are changing."

Hermione's stomach tightened at Luna's words. There was always something unsettling about how Luna seemed to know things, even when no one had told her anything.

"Changing how?" Hermione asked, her voice low.

Luna didn't look at her, her eyes still fixed on the lake. "Paths are diverging. Yours especially, Hermione. But don't worry. You'll find your way. You always do."

The cryptic nature of Luna's words sent a chill down Hermione's spine, but before she could ask more, Luna stood up, brushing off her robes. "I should go. The moon is out, and I like watching it rise."

Hermione watched as Luna drifted away, her mind racing with unanswered questions.

"Viktor," Harry called, pulling Hermione's attention back to the field. "Let's go again. I need more practice."

Viktor nodded, his expression shifting back to its usual seriousness as he stepped forward. "You vill not have mercy from me this time, Potter."

Harry grinned, though there was a determined glint in his eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

As the two began to duel once more, Cedric moved to stand beside Hermione, his arms crossed as he watched Harry and Viktor exchange spells. "He's improving," Cedric said thoughtfully. "He's got more fight in him than he realizes."

"He does," Hermione agreed, though her thoughts were far from the practice match unfolding in front of her.

But she couldn't afford to falter now. Harry needed her, and there was no room for hesitation.


As they made their way back to the castle, the heavy evening air settled over them. The darkening sky seemed to match the mood that hung between the group—an unspoken tension lingering as they each considered the approaching task. Dinner in the Great Hall was already underway, and the chatter of students echoed through the corridors as Harry, Hermione, Cedric, Viktor, and Luna entered together.

The Great Hall was abuzz with conversation. Plates of steaming food and goblets of pumpkin juice were being passed along the tables, and students from each house were immersed in lively discussion. However, despite the bustle around her, Hermione's mind was still elsewhere—on the ring, the maze, and the growing pressure of everything she had to manage.

As they reached the Gryffindor table, Harry slumped down onto a bench, his exhaustion evident as he reached for a slice of bread. "I'm knackered," he muttered, stretching his arms over his head. "Cedric and Viktor are relentless."

Cedric, who sat beside him, grinned. "It's for your own good, mate. You'll thank us when you're in that maze."

Viktor gave a nod, his expression as stoic as ever. "Better to be prepared now. The maze vill not be kind."

Hermione sat down beside Harry, her eyes flicking across the room. Taking in her surroundings.

Harry let out a small laugh, though it was strained. "At this rate, I'll be too tired to even make it to the maze."

"You'll be fine," Hermione said, forcing a smile. "You've improved so much since we started training. Just stay focused."

Harry gave her a grateful look before turning his attention to his plate. The others at the table seemed content to eat in silence for a moment, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Fred and George Weasley suddenly appeared behind her, sliding onto the bench on either side of her and Harry with their usual flair.

"Well, look who's here!" Fred exclaimed, flashing Hermione a cheeky grin. "The brains behind Potter's sudden dueling prowess."

George nodded seriously. "We should start charging for tips on how to survive the Triwizard Tournament. You know, offer a special Gryffindor package."

Harry groaned, shaking his head. "Can't you two go five minutes without trying to turn something into a business venture?"

Fred winked at Hermione. "Not when there's a profit to be made, mate."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't suppress the smile that crept across her face. "I think Harry's doing just fine without your 'help,' thank you very much."

Ginny, who had been seated across from them, chimed in with a smirk. "Maybe he's doing so well because Hermione's actually been helping him train."

"Ah, of course," George nodded sagely, leaning over to give Hermione a conspiratorial look. "So what's the real secret, Hermione? You slip Potter some magic beans that give him instant dueling powers?"

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Nothing so dramatic. Just lots of practice."

"You know," Fred began, piling some mashed potatoes onto his plate, "George and I could use some of that expert training. We've been looking to brush up on our dueling skills. I bet Hermione's got a secret stash of advanced spells hidden away somewhere."

"Yeah, but we can't afford her," George added, feigning a heavy sigh. "Too much demand for her services."

Ginny snorted. "Or maybe she just doesn't want to waste her time with you two."

The twins gasped dramatically in unison. "Waste?!" Fred put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "We're top-tier duelists, thank you very much."

"Right," Hermione said, giggling. "Top-tier pranksters, maybe."

Harry grinned, looking more relaxed than he had in days. "Honestly, I don't think you two need any help getting into trouble."

"Trouble?" George repeated, with a mock-innocent look. "Us? Trouble? Never."

Fred leaned in closer to Hermione, his voice low and playful. "Come on, Granger. You've got to give us something. Just one secret. We'll even pay you—half in gold, half in sweets."

Hermione smirked. "As tempting as that is, Fred, I think I'll pass."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. "You two are hopeless."

As the conversation shifted to Fred and George's latest prank—a harmless but amusing trick they'd played on a group of second years involving enchanted chocolate frogs—Hermione allowed herself to relax. The tension that had been weighing on her chest all day seemed to lift, if only for a little while.

Ginny joined in on the laughter, her sharp wit adding to the playful banter, and for the first time in a long while, Hermione felt like things were almost normal. No pressing threats, no dark magic, no looming tasks—just her friends, enjoying dinner.

"You should've seen Flitwick's face when the frogs started hopping around the classroom," Fred recounted with a grin. "He tried to catch one, but it jumped right over his head!"

"He actually thought it was brilliant!" George added, laughing. "Said something about 'creative problem-solving.'"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know how you two haven't been expelled yet."

"Pure charm," Fred said, winking at her. "And maybe the occasional well-placed prank to keep the professors on their toes."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at their antics, and even Harry seemed lighter, his tension from earlier melting away. It was nice, being able to enjoy the moment without worrying about what lay ahead.

For now, that was enough.

As the evening wore on and dessert arrived—puddings, tarts, and cakes filling the center of the table—Luna floated over to the group, her usual dreamy expression firmly in place. She plopped down beside Harry, grabbing a slice of treacle tart.

"Oh, that looks delicious," she said airily. "Did you know treacle tart is often used to lure Wrackspurts?"

Harry blinked, smiling despite his confusion. "Wrackspurts?"

Luna nodded seriously, biting into her tart. "Oh yes. They're invisible creatures that fly into your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. Treacle tart is one of the only things they can't resist."

Fred leaned over, whispering to Hermione, "Do you think she's serious?"

"Probably," Hermione whispered back, stifling a laugh.

As the conversation continued, Hermione looked around the table at her friends—Harry, laughing at something Luna said; Ginny rolling her eyes at another one of Fred's exaggerated stories; George pretending to duel with his fork—and felt a warmth she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time.

Her gaze wandered to Draco, sitting at the Slytherin table. He was deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson, but every so often, his eyes flicked in her direction. The exchange they'd had in the Astronomy Tower still lingered in her mind, especially the part about the ring.

As if on cue, an owl swooped down over the Gryffindor table, dropping a letter in front of Hermione. She recognized Sirius's handwriting immediately and quickly opened the parchment, scanning the words.

Hermione,

You've always been too clever for your own good, haven't you? Of course, the ring is more than just a family token. It's an old Black family tradition, well..pureblood tradition, passed down through the generations. It's meant to protect you and Harry, not just as a symbol, but magically.

The ring can protect you against certain spells, but more importantly, it's an emergency portkey. If you're ever in danger, it will activate and take you somewhere safe. I didn't want to worry you with all the details, but I suppose you need to know everything now.

I trust you'll use it wisely, Hermione. Don't be afraid to use it if you or Harry need it. The last thing I want is for either of you to be hurt.

Take care, and remember—you're family now.

With love, Sirius

Hermione's heart raced as she read the letter. A portkey. The ring was a portkey. Draco had been right—it was more than just a symbol. It was a tool. A weapon, even. And it could be the key to saving Harry in the maze.

But what about Cedric? What about the timeline? She had already changed so much—Harry's training, his alliances with the other champions, the way the Slytherins were treating her differently. Would using the ring to save Harry alter things even further?

Her mind raced with possibilities, but one thing was clear: she needed to come up with a plan. A new plan, one that accounted for the ring and the portkey. She would need to be careful, though. If she made the wrong move, she could tip the balance too far.

But if it means saving Harry, she thought, then I'll do whatever it takes.

Tucking the letter away, she looked across the table at Harry, who was laughing with Luna about something Cedric had said. He seemed lighter, more confident, and for a moment, Hermione allowed herself to hope that maybe—just maybe—things would turn out differently this time.

But deep down, she knew the final task was coming, and with it, the first true test of everything she had done.