Hi all! Thank you for the patience as I write this. I am taking a bit longer to write this, just know I am taking my time, so it is as chaotic as possible. It is all part of it. But also my AC broke so I am melting and cant concentrate. While the story follows the books generally, it will change of course, its a fanfic. Anyways, enjoy!
Chapter 6

The moment his name had been pulled from the Goblet of Fire, she had felt her stomach drop, a sickening confirmation that the future she knew was hurtling toward them—unstoppable.

That night, when Dumbledore had called Harry's name, she had watched the confusion and fear in Harry's eyes, mirrored by her own. She had clutched her hands into fists under the table, a flood of dark thoughts filling her mind as she saw Ron's face twist in anger. It had begun. The rift between Harry and Ron was starting, and she knew it would be a long time before it healed.

The days following the selection had been tense, to say the least. Ron barely spoke to Harry. He avoided looking at him, choosing instead to sit at the far end of the Gryffindor table during meals. Harry, on the other hand, was growing more and more frustrated with each passing day.

"He thinks I put my name in!" Harry fumed one evening, pacing in the Gryffindor common room while studying. His voice echoed off the walls, the crackling fire doing little to soothe his anger. "He actually thinks I did it on purpose! That I want all this attention!"

"You know how Ron is," Hermione said quietly, though her tone was colder than usual. "He's always been jealous of you, Harry. He's never understood what it's like to be you—to carry the weight of everything."

Harry stopped pacing, turning to look at her. "But I didn't even ask for this!" he said, exasperated. "I never asked for any of it!"

"I know." Hermione stood and walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. "But Ron... he's always been insecure. He's jealous of the attention you get, even though he doesn't understand that you'd give it all up in a second. He's not thinking clearly."

Hermione sat back down, her eyes scanning over pages of spell work and magical theory. Across from her, Harry concentrated with a deep frown on his face, frustration radiating off him as he worked through the same material.

Hermione sighed, closing the book in front of her with a soft thud. "Harry, I think you need to focus more on defensive spells. Whoever put your name in that Goblet is trying to get you killed, and you need to be ready."

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. "I know... I just... I can't believe Ron actually thinks I'd put my own name in. Why would I even want to compete?"

Hermione's eyes flickered with sympathy, but there was a cold, calculating part of her that didn't feel the need to mend their friendship. Maybe it was better if Harry wasn't distracted by Ron's jealousy. Maybe it was better if Harry stayed focused on surviving this tournament.

Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but with an edge of practicality. "You don't have time to worry about Ron right now, Harry. He'll come around eventually. But for now, your focus needs to be on staying alive."

Harry clenched his jaw, staring at the floor. "Yeah... maybe you're right."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "You should write to Sirius."

That got Harry's attention. He looked up at her, surprised. "Sirius?"

Hermione nodded. "He's your godfather. He'll know how to handle this... maybe even how to deal with Ron. He's been through enough to understand what it's like to be misunderstood. Also he might have more insight on defensive spells, he was alive during the war"

Harry seemed to consider this, his eyes softening at the thought. "Yeah... maybe I should. I'll write to him tonight."

Hermione nodded, feeling a small sense of satisfaction. The thought of Sirius made her mind buzz with possibilities. She knew Sirius was still on the run, but if she played this right, maybe she could free him in this life. The wheels in her head were already turning, the outline of a plan forming. Sirius could be a powerful ally if she managed to change the timeline in her favor.

That night, Hermione found herself unable to sleep. The soft snores of the other girls in the dorm room did little to soothe her restless thoughts. She had changed so much already, and yet things still felt too familiar, too predictable. It gnawed at her. She needed to do more, to find out if the timeline was truly shifting.

Throwing off her blankets, Hermione reached for her wand and cast the Disillusionment Charm on herself. She felt the familiar cool sensation as her body became invisible, blending seamlessly into the background.

She slipped out of the dormitory and made her way through the dark, silent corridors of Hogwarts. Her mind was racing, full of what-ifs and questions. She needed to clear her head, to figure out how much control she really had over the events to come.

As her steps led her to the Astronomy Tower, she froze at the sight of someone already there, standing at the edge of the tower, gazing out at the moonlit grounds. Even in the shadows, she could tell who it was. His platinum blonde hair caught the faint light, but something about his posture seemed... different. He wasn't the arrogant, sneering figure she was used to seeing. He was still, almost contemplative.

Intrigued, and for reasons she couldn't explain, Hermione quietly dropped the Disillusionment Charm. She stood there, waiting for a reaction. Draco didn't jump or startle when he noticed her; instead, he glanced over his shoulder, his face calm.

"Granger," he said, his voice low and unreadable. "Out for a nighttime stroll?"

Hermione crossed her arms, suddenly unsure why she had revealed herself. "I could ask you the same thing."

Draco turned to face her fully, leaning casually against the railing. "Maybe I enjoy the quiet," he replied cryptically. His eyes swept over her, lingering a little longer than she expected. "What about you? Planning some secret heroics?"

Hermione's gaze narrowed slightly. "Something like that."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them strange but not hostile. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about Draco in this timeline. He was still the same snarky Slytherin, but there was something about the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, that made her uneasy. It was almost as if he knew something she didn't.

"You shouldn't be here," Draco said suddenly, his tone quieter but more intense. "You shouldn't have come."

Hermione blinked, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected words. "What are you talking about?"

Draco's eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, he looked almost... regretful. "You don't belong here. Not in this."

He turned away before she could ask more, his back straightening as he slipped back into the familiar, cold persona she knew too well. "You've always been too nosy for your own good, Granger. Watch your step."

With that, he brushed past her and disappeared down the stairs, leaving Hermione standing in the cold night air, confused and unsettled.

What…what just happened? she thought. Does he….is he….?

As Hermione made her way back to bed that night, her encounter with Draco Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower replayed over and over in her head like a puzzle she couldn't quite solve.

The next few days passed in a blur. Harry spent most of his time brooding over the first task, practicing spells with Hermione and pretending that Ron's absence didn't bother him. Ron, meanwhile, had thrown himself into Quidditch and spending time with Seamus and Dean, ignoring both Harry and Hermione whenever they were around.

Hermione barely noticed how much time she spent away from Ron, how she and Harry had begun working more closely without their red-headed friend. Ron's anger simmered, but Hermione dismissed it, rationalizing that this time, things were different. She couldn't waste energy worrying about hurt feelings.

One late afternoon, as she and Harry studied in the Gryffindor common room, Hedwig swooped in through the open window, a letter tied to her leg. Harry's eyes lit up as he recognized the neat, cramped handwriting. "It's from Sirius!" he exclaimed, quickly tearing open the envelope.

Hermione leaned closer as Harry read the letter aloud:

"Harry,

I've heard about what's going on, and I want you to know that I don't believe for one second you'd put your name in that Goblet. You've got bigger things to worry about. Keep your head down, focus on the tasks, and trust Hermione—she's got the right idea. And Ron... well, people can be fools sometimes when they're scared or jealous. He'll come around. In the meantime, keep preparing. We'll talk soon.

Stay safe. And Harry... be careful who you trust.

Sirius."

Hermione felt a surge of satisfaction. Sirius trusted her. He believed in her plan to keep Harry alive. Harry, however, looked relieved. "Sirius believes me," he muttered, though the tension in his shoulders didn't completely disappear. "But Ron... I don't know if he'll ever come around."

Hermione glanced at Harry, feeling a strange mix of sympathy and indifference. "You don't need Ron right now," she said quietly. "He's distracted, and honestly, you don't have time for distractions. Focus on the tournament. Sirius is right—you have bigger things to worry about."

That night, Hermione lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep evaded her, as it often did lately. The constant buzz of thoughts and plans kept her awake. She rolled over, glancing at the diary on her bedside table—the one she had been meticulously filling with every detail of the timeline she remembered, every spell she could recall, and every possible way she could change the course of the war.

The weight of her knowledge pressed down on her, but strangely, it didn't feel like a burden. In fact, the more she wrote down, the more she planned, the more control she felt. It was intoxicating. She could do this. She could save the world.

But the darker part of her mind whispered, What if it's not enough? What if things go wrong despite all your planning?

Hermione shut her eyes tightly, trying to push the thoughts away. She had done dark things to get here—things she hadn't been able to talk about, even to herself. The blood sacrifice, the lives she had taken in that moment of desperation... she should feel guilty, shouldn't she? But instead, all she felt was power. The dark magic she had wielded, the feeling of control over life and death, was like nothing she had ever experienced before. And part of her, a growing part, enjoyed it.

No, she told herself. I'm doing this for Harry. For everyone. I have to win this war.

But even as she thought it, another voice whispered in the back of her mind: What if it's not just about Harry anymore? What if you're doing this for yourself?

She shuddered, trying to shake off the thought. She wasn't turning dark, was she? She was just doing what had to be done. No one else could carry the burden of changing fate, so she had to do it herself. That was all.

One afternoon when they were sitting in the courtyard after Charms, Professor Moody approached them. His mismatched eyes scanned Harry first, then flicked over to Hermione.

"Potter, Granger," Moody greeted with his usual gravelly voice. "Thought I'd give you a bit of advice, considering the task ahead. You'll need more than just spells to survive what's coming. You'll need instincts. Keep your wands ready at all times. I can help prepare you, private lessons Potter"

Harry looked up, intrigued. But Hermione's eyes darkened at the implication of Moody's words. There was something off about the way he was watching Harry—like a predator sizing up its prey. She had to remind herself that this Moody wasn't Moody at all.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, standing and listening intently.

But Hermione crossed her arms, her expression cold. "We've been preparing," she said flatly, her voice lacking the usual respect she showed for teachers. "I'm sure Harry can handle himself without being... paranoid."

Moody's magical eye whirled to focus on her, narrowing slightly. "Confidence can be dangerous, Granger," he said slowly. "You'd do well to remember that."

Hermione held his gaze, her own eyes hard. "I know how to take care of myself."

Moody chuckled darkly but said nothing more, simply nodding before walking away. Harry looked at her, startled by her sudden demeanor.

"Hermione... what was that?" Harry asked, surprised. "You usually don't... talk to professors like that."

Hermione's face softened slightly, but the coldness in her chest remained. "I don't trust him," she muttered under her breath, feeling a surge of frustration. She didn't understand why, but the thought of Moody giving Harry advice set her on edge. He's dangerous, she thought. I know who he really is.

As the days passed, Hermione found herself spending more and more time in the library, gathering resources and reading through obscure magical texts. The more she studied, the more she realized how much knowledge she had—and how little she could trust anyone else to use it. Her friends were distracted, divided, and Hermione couldn't afford to let that slow her down.

It was during one of these quiet afternoons in the library when she noticed Victor Krum sitting a few tables away from her. He had been spending more time in the library recently, always with books related to advanced magical techniques or Quidditch strategies. He caught her eye once, and she nodded politely before returning to her work.

'Oh, that's right, I forgot he starts talking to me' She thought to herself, smiling softly.

A few minutes later, she felt his presence beside her.

"Hello, you are... always here, you read many books" Viktor said in his thick accent, his voice soft but curious.

Hermione looked up, startled, and found him standing next to her table. "Oh, yes," she said, closing her book slightly. "I enjoy reading."

Viktor nodded, looking around the library. "It is... peaceful here. No girls following"

Hermione smiled faintly. "Yes, it is."

For a moment, Viktor didn't say anything more, but his eyes lingered on her before he quietly added, "I... admire how much you study. You study "

Hermione blinked, surprised. "Thank you," she said, feeling an odd sense of warmth at his words.

Viktor hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Maybe... you could help me with some of the spells? For the tournament?"

Hermione glanced down

Hermione glanced down at her open book, then back up at Viktor. He seemed genuine in his request, and for some reason, she found herself nodding.

"Sure," she said quietly. "I'd be happy to help."

As the day wore on and classes ended, Harry and Hermione found themselves back in the Great Hall for dinner. The atmosphere was still tense between Harry and Ron, as they sad down.

To their surprise, Ron threw a glance at Harry across the table. "So, have you come up with a strategy for the tournament yet, Harry?" Ron asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry stiffened, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "I didn't put my name in the Goblet, Ron. How many times do I have to say it?"

Ron crossed his arms, glaring at Harry. "Oh right, of course. Because everything just happens to you, doesn't it? The Boy Who Lived, always in the spotlight."

"That's not fair!" Harry snapped, slamming his spoon down. "I didn't ask for this!"

"Yeah, sure," Ron shot back. "Just like you didn't ask for all the fame or the attention, right? You love it, Harry. You can't stand it when the attention isn't on you! You are such a liar"

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry shouted, his face red with anger.

Hermione watched the exchange, her heart pounding. In the past, she might have intervened, tried to smooth things over between them, but now... now she just felt distant. A cold calculation took over her mind. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it was easier if Harry didn't have to worry about Ron's feelings. The tournament was dangerous, and distractions could cost lives.

Ron stood abruptly, glaring down at Harry. "I'm done with this," he muttered. "Done with you."

As Ron stormed off, Harry sat back down, fuming. Hermione remained silent for a moment, letting the tension settle.

"You don't need him, Harry," she said finally, her voice calm. "Ron's being selfish, and he's wrong. You'll be fine without him."

Harry clenched his jaw, nodding but not looking entirely convinced.

That night, Hermione found herself in the common room pouring over her diary, trying to keep her thoughts focused. Her conversation with Draco, Ron's outburst, and her growing obsession with the timeline all swirled together in her mind. She was trying so hard to stay on top of everything, but it felt like the ground beneath her was shifting. It was all different but not different.

As she scribbled notes into her diary, she didn't notice Fred Weasley approaching until he sat down next to her, his familiar mischievous grin in place.

"Studying again?" Fred asked casually, leaning back in his chair. "You're going to make the rest of us look bad, Hermione."

Hermione jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence. She quickly snapped her diary shut, her heart racing as she realized how close Fred had come to seeing her secret.

"Fred," she said, her voice a little too high. "I didn't hear you."

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing her nervousness. "What's that?" he asked, nodding to the diary.

"Nothing," Hermione replied quickly, slipping the diary into her bag. "Just notes."

Fred gave her a look that told her he wasn't entirely convinced, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, he leaned forward, his expression softening. "You've been acting... different lately, Hermione. Is everything okay?"

Hermione froze for a moment, her mind scrambling for an explanation. Different? Was she really acting that noticeably strange? She had been so careful. She had everything under control, didn't she?

"I'm fine," she said, her voice a little too sharp.

Fred didn't back down. He studied her closely, his usual teasing demeanor replaced by genuine concern. "If you ever need help... you know, with whatever you're doing for Harry... George and I are around. We're not completely useless. Also, I know our brother is being a git, he's just…well Ron. But I can help"

Hermione blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. Fred Weasley was known for his jokes and pranks, not serious conversations. And yet, here he was, offering his help. She felt a strange warmth in her chest, something she hadn't expected. Fred was watching her carefully, and for the first time in a while, Hermione felt vulnerable.

"Thanks," she muttered, her voice softening. "I appreciate that."

Fred smiled, leaning in a little closer. "Anytime, Granger. Just... don't keep everything bottled up, alright?"

Hermione nodded, feeling her heart skip a beat at the way Fred was looking at her. There was something different in his eyes, something that made her feel... safe, even though everything around her felt like it was spinning out of control.

But before she could say anything more, Fred gave her a playful nudge. "You'd better put all that studying to good use, though. Can't have you beating me on my OWLs."

Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling a small smile tug at her lips despite everything. "Don't worry. I'll leave some glory for you and George."

Fred grinned, standing up and ruffling her hair lightly as he left. "See you around, Hermione."

As he walked away, Hermione watched him, her heart still racing slightly. There was something comforting about Fred—something steady and dependable. But as soon as the warmth settled in her chest, the cold darkness resurfaced in the back of her mind.

Focus, she told herself sternly. You don't have time for distractions.

But even as she told herself that, she couldn't stop thinking about Fred's smile.

She glanced up at the people in the common room, Ron, sat far from her, throwing dark looks in her direction. Hermione noticed, but she didn't acknowledge it. She wasn't here to fix friendships. She was here to change the course of history, to save lives, and to keep Harry alive.

But as much as she tried to convince herself that this was all part of the plan, a small, nagging thought remained in the back of her mind—What if you're pushing Ron away? What if you need him? After all, in the previous timeline, Ron had saved her life on more than one occasion, he saved her. They had been best friends. Could she really afford to lose him this time?

Hermione clenched her fists, trying to drown out the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. The darkness was creeping closer every day, and the more it grew, the harder it became to remember what she was fighting for.