A/N:
I had found my old writing book while moving and decided that I should finish this story. I first only updated Chapter 7 but now I decided to rewrite this story and give it more justice based on my old notes and what I had originally envisioned. This was/is my first story, although a lot has changed in the fandom, I still have a soft spot when I watch this movie and for Krumione.
I know some of you have followed this story since I first wrote it when I was in high school in 2011.

I do not own Harry Potter, nor claim any rights to it. This is just a fanfic based on the Goblet of Fire.

I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. (again)


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Hermione snapped her second suitcase shut and sighed, satisfied that her packing was finally complete. She pulled out her wand, giving it a gentle flick to shrink the suitcase to the size of a wallet, which she slipped effortlessly into her infinity bag and grabbed her purse. Turning towards the mirror, she gave herself a once-over, adjusting her light blue t-shirt and smoothing out the slim jeans she was wearing. Her favorite black cardigan, soft and worn with time, was draped over her shoulders. It was a simple outfit, but it felt just right.

As she caught her reflection, Hermione couldn't help but notice how much her appearance had changed over the past year. Her hair, which used to frustrate her with its wild, bushy nature, had grown out considerably. The curls now cascaded down her shoulders, more defined and less unruly than before. She ran her fingers through them with a small, approving smile.

With a final glance around her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, she stepped into the hallway. Closing the door gently behind her, she paused for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of home. Then, with a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside her, she made her way downstairs to say goodbye to her parents.

"All packed and ready to go, sweetheart?" her mother asked, standing by the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in hand.

Hermione nodded, smiling. "Yes, Mum. Everything's sorted."

"AHEM."

A familiar voice made Hermione spin around. There, standing casually in the living room, was Ginny Weasley, her hands on her hips, a playful grin on her face.

"Are you gonna come over here or not?" Ginny teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Hermione blinked, momentarily stunned. She hadn't expected Ginny to arrive so soon, and certainly not in such a sneaky fashion. But her surprise quickly melted into joy, and she ran toward Ginny, throwing her arms around her. They laughed, squeezing each other tightly, caught up in the excitement of being reunited after weeks apart.

"Merlin, it's been too long!" Ginny exclaimed, stepping back slightly to get a better look at Hermione. "Your hair looks amazing, by the way. What potion did you use on it?"

Hermione chuckled, rolling her eyes. "It's just a new routine I've been trying, nothing magical. But thanks!"

The two girls began chattering away, quickly falling into their usual rhythm, catching up on everything from the latest gossip at the Burrow to Hermione's summer spent studying advanced magical theory. Ginny animatedly recounted her brothers' antics, causing Hermione to giggle as she pictured Fred and George's latest mischief.

However, their conversation was interrupted when Hermione's father appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, a playful smile on his face.

"You two better get going," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Don't want you girls to be late for anything important, like... your mother always is." He gave a cheeky smirk, clearly enjoying himself.

Her mother, standing behind him, gave him a light smack on the back of the head. "Oh, hush, you!" she scolded, but her smile softened her words. "Go on, girls. Have fun, but please be careful."

Hermione laughed, her heart swelling with affection. "We will, Mum." She stepped forward, giving her mother a quick kiss on the cheek, then turning to her father to do the same. "Goodbye, Dad."

Her father hugged her tightly for a moment. "Take care of yourself, pumpkin."

Ginny waved to them both. "Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Granger!" as they made their way to the living room to the fireplace as Hermione's parents followed and stood by the doorway.

With final goodbyes, the two girls stepped inside the fireplace. Hermione took a deep breath, feeling the familiar thrill of anticipation as she and Ginny prepared to head to the Burrow.

"So, ready for another year of madness at Hogwarts?" Ginny asked, nudging Hermione playfully.

Hermione smiled, glancing sideways at her best friend getting ready to be. "I don't know about madness but hope we do have some fun."

Ginny grinned wickedly. "Oh, I have a feeling this year will be amazing."

The two girls laughed, their voices carrying through the air as they disappeared in the flames.


As soon as they entered the cozy, bustling living room, they were greeted by the familiar, warm voice of Molly Weasley coming from the kitchen.

"Oh, Hermione, how lovely to see you again!" Molly beamed, her hands busy stirring something in a pot. "Come in, we've just started breakfast. The boys are upstairs getting ready. They've been going on about the game all morning."

"Of course! We're all excited, actually! Ireland's going to wipe the floor with them today!" George announced loudly as he bounded down the stairs, with Fred close behind, both grinning.

"Ello, Hermione. Just got here?" George asked as he made it to the bottom of the stairs. His eyes flicked momentarily to her from noticing her change in figure quickly looking back at her.

Fred shot him a knowing smirk and nudged him playfully as he walked over and giving Hermione a side hug, "So, who's ready to see Ireland crush the Bulgarians today? I've got a good feeling about this one!"

George nodded as he walked over and grabbed an apple from the fruit basket.

Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled, tugging at Hermione's arm. "Come on, Hermione, let's head to my room for a minute before we go."

The two girls slipped upstairs, leaving the boys behind. Once inside Ginny's room, Hermione goes to check on Harry and Ron.


An old man was lighting a gas oven with a match, preparing food when something outside caught his attention. He noticed a light flickering in the large house opposite his own. Grumbling to himself, he abandoned his cooking and walked to the door, muttering, "Bloody kids."

The old man stepped out into the cold night, carrying a small torch, its flame barely cutting through the darkness. He made his way toward the lit house. As he reached the front door, the house itself seemed just as dark inside, save for that one mysterious light upstairs. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he entered, and he hesitated, hearing whispers and hushed voices coming from the floor above. Quietly, he climbed the stairs, each step bringing him closer to the conversation.

He reached the door, pressing himself against the wall to listen. He could hear them clearly now.

"No, no, my Lord Voldemort," one of the voices stammered. "I only meant... perhaps we could do it without the boy..."

"NO!" a cold, high-pitched voice snapped back. "The boy is everything. It cannot be done without him, and it WILL be done exactly as I say."

Another voice, quieter but determined, spoke up. "I will not disappoint you, my lord."

"Good," Voldemort replied. "First, gather our old comrades. Send them a sign."

Suddenly, a snake slithered past the old man's feet, causing him to jerk back in surprise. The creature slid through the crack under the door, disappearing inside.

The next words sent a chill down the man's spine.

"Nagini tells me the old caretaker is standing outside the door," Voldemort hissed.

The door creaked open, and the man standing inside, Wormtail, looked down at him with pity. The old man's heart raced in terror, and he stumbled backward, desperate to flee.

"Step aside," Voldemort's voice commanded, "so I can give our guest a proper greeting."

A flash of green light filled the corridor, and the old man collapsed without a sound.


Harry woke with a start, his heart pounding and his scar burning. He sat up abruptly, gasping for breath.

"Harry!" a voice whispered urgently. Hermione was sitting on the end of the bed, her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you alright?"

Still trying to shake off the vivid nightmare, Harry rubbed his eyes. "Hermione... bad dream... When did you get here?"

"Just now," she replied. "You?"

"Last night."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile before turning to Ron's bed. She shook Ron's shoulder insistently. "Wake up, Ron. Come on, get up!"

Ron groaned, pulling his blankets over his head. "Bloody hell..."

"Honestly!" Hermione sighed. "Get dressed, and don't go back to sleep. Your mother says breakfast is ready."

With another groan, Ron finally stirred, and Hermione, satisfied with her work, turned back to Harry. "You sure you're alright?"

Harry nodded, still haunted by the images of Voldemort, but grateful for Hermione's familiar presence.


Hermione went back to Ginny's room and caught up more before going downstairs to eat Breakfast.

They all exchanged a few more words, catching up briefly, before Arthur's voice broke through. "Alright, everyone! Let's move, or we'll be late!"

The group was walking across the open grassland, the air crisp and full of excitement.

"How was your summer?" Harry asked Hermione.

"It was great! I stayed here for the first two weeks—" she smiled fondly at Ginny and the twins, "—and then spent some time with my parents, traveling around. It was nice, but I'm glad to be back here with everyone for the match."

"Where are we actually going?" Harry asked, looking around at the empty fields.

"Don't know," Ron replied, his voice carrying over the gentle breeze. "Hey, Dad! Where are we going?"

Arthur Weasley, who was a few steps ahead, called back over his shoulder, "Haven't the foggiest! Keep up!"

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out. "Arthur! About time, son."

They turned to see Amos Diggory walking toward them, a broad grin on his face.

"Sorry, Amos," Arthur apologized, smiling sheepishly. "Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start. Everyone, this is Amos Diggory. He works with me at the Ministry. And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?"

Cedric nodded politely. "Yes, sir."

Amos's eyes lit up as he looked at Harry. "Merlin's beard! You must be Harry Potter!"

Harry felt a little uncomfortable under the man's enthusiastic gaze, but he smiled and extended his hand. "Yes, sir. Pleasure to meet you."

They shook hands, and Amos's grip was firm. "Great pleasure. Great, great pleasure," he repeated, beaming.

The group continued walking up the hill, with Arthur pointing ahead. "That's it, just over there."

"Shall we?" Amos said. "We don't want to be late."

At the top of the hill, the group of wizards were standing in a circle around an old, worn boot lying in the grass.

"Why are we all standing around that manky old boot?" Harry asked, frowning.

Fred grinned. "That isn't just any old manky boot, mate."

George leaned in, whispering dramatically, "It's a portkey."

Before Harry could ask what a portkey was, Amos gestured toward the boot. "Time to go. Ready?"

Still confused, Harry watched as everyone reached out to place their hands on the boot. Arthur motioned for him to hurry. "Harry!"

Rushing forward, Harry quickly placed his hand on the boot just as Amos began counting. "After three. One... Two... Three!"

In an instant, the world seemed to twist and lurch, and Harry found himself flying through the air. There were cheers all around, but the sensation was dizzying. "Let go, kids!" Arthur called out, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind.

"What?" Hermione shouted, her voice high-pitched in panic.

"Let! Go!" Arthur repeated.

Harry, Hermione, and the young Weasleys tumbled to the ground with a heavy thump, crashing in a heap. Nearby, Arthur, Amos, and Cedric landed gracefully, clearly more experienced with the portkey.

Arthur chuckled as he helped the kids to their feet. "I bet that cleared your sinuses, eh?"

Cedric, still grinning, reached out to help Harry up. "Thanks," Harry said, brushing himself off.

They walked across the field, the atmosphere growing more electric with every step. Ahead of them was a massive crowd, tents set up as far as the eye could see, and the distant hum of excited chatter filled the air.

Arthur gestured toward the bustling scene. "Well, kids, welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!"

As they made their way into the crowd, Harry could hardly believe the sights. Wizards and witches in brightly colored robes flew overhead on broomsticks, banners waving, and magical fireworks bursting in the sky. They approached a small tent, and Amos grinned. "Parting of the waves, I think, old chap. See you at the match."

Amos and Cedric waved as they separated from the group.

"See ya later, Cedric," Harry called after him.

Arthur led the group toward their own tent, which looked quite small and ordinary from the outside.

"Home sweet home," he announced.


Inside the tent, however, was a completely different story. It was much larger than it appeared from the outside, complete with multiple rooms, comfortable furnishings, and a kitchen. Hermione set her large, enchanted bag down with a sigh of relief, grateful to finally set it aside. She had spent the first two weeks of summer with the Weasleys, and though she loved every minute, she also enjoyed traveling with her parents afterward.

This trip to the Quidditch World Cup felt like the perfect end to her summer before they all returned to Hogwarts.

"Alright, let's grab our gear! Mum got us these," Ginny said, pulling out Irish Quidditch team scarves and hats from her wardrobe. Hermione smiled as Ginny handed her a green and gold scarf.

"Thanks, Ginny. These are perfect!" Hermione said as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Arthur clapped his hands together. "Girls, choose a bunk and unpack. Ron, get out of the kitchen — we're all hungry."

The twins smirked at their younger brother. "Yeah, Ron, get out of the kitchen!" they chimed in unison.

Arthur caught them lounging with their feet on the table. "Feet off the table," he said sternly.

The twins removed their feet, only to put them back up as soon as Arthur turned his back. Harry, watching the whole exchange, grinned. "I love magic," he murmured, shaking his head.


Later, looking out at the towering stadium, which stretched impossibly high into the sky with countless floors. As they made their way inside, the crowd's excitement was palpable.

"Blimey, Dad," Ron said breathlessly. "How far up are we?"

As they climbed the steps to their seats, Lucius Malfoy and his son Draco passed by below them.

"Put it this way," Lucius drawled, looking up at the Weasleys with disdain, "if it rains, you'll be the first to know."

Draco smirked at Ron. "Father and I are in the Minister's Box, by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco," Lucius admonished, though his voice held a hint of pride. "There's no need with these people. Do enjoy yourself, won't you? While you can."

They moved off, leaving Ron seething.

The ceremonies began soon after, with balloons soaring into the sky and brilliant fireworks lighting up the darkening evening.

Arthur beamed, gesturing to their seats. "Come on up! I told you these seats would be worth waiting for!"

"So, who do you reckon will win?" Harry asked Ron, who was practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

"Ireland, no question!" Ron declared confidently.

"Don't count out Bulgaria just yet," Harry countered. "Viktor Krum is the youngest and the best Seeker in the world. He might catch the Snitch within the first fifteen minutes. What do you think, Hermione?" turning over to her.

"Hmm..." Hermione mumbled absentmindedly, going through her purse as she realized she forgot to put her book into the infinity bag instead.

"Earth to Hermione," Ron said, waving his hand in front of her face.

"Sorry, Hermione smiled softly as she pulled out a book, flipping it open. "Oh, I wanted to show you this, Ginny. I think you'll really like it." She turned to Ginny.

Ron rolled his eyes slumping back into his seat.t. "Seriously, Hermione? Can't you leave the books behind for just one day? We're at the Quidditch World Cup!"

"Well, Ronald, unlike you, I'm actually interested in more than just Quidditch," she snapped back, her tone clipped but controlled. "Besides, I'm not ignoring the game. I was just showing Ginny something."

"Geez, Hermione, I was only joking. You don't always have to be so serious" Ron muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. "Don't be such a cow"
She didn't know why Ron had to be a jerk to her at times, most of the time she's helping him and Harry out with everything.

"Ron, stop being an ass to Hermione. If I remember correctly, wasn't Hermione the one that helped you out when you couldn't do anything right in your potions class. If it wasn't for her you wouldn't have passed..." Ginny countered, mean mugging Ron.
Hermione sighed, feeling the tension but not wanting to argue further. She glanced sideways at Ginny, who gave her an encouraging smile. Hermione finished explaining the book to Ginny, before putting it away again.

Ron stayed staring, He was starting to feel a little bad for his last remark, opening his mouth to apologize-

"Come on!" George shouted, his voice full of excitement.

"It's the Irish!" Fred exclaimed, pointing as five green-and-white figures flew through the air on broomsticks, leaving a glittering trail behind them. A giant leprechaun appeared in the sky, dancing to the crowd's cheers.

But soon, the attention shifted. "Here come the Bulgarians!" George called out. This time, five red-clad figures flew through the sky, one of them performing an impressive stunt on his broom. The crowd erupted as Viktor Krum's face appeared on the large screen.

"Krum! Krum! Krum!" the crowd began chanting, the sound growing louder.

"Weasleys!" shouted Fred and George, joining the chant. "Krum!"

"Isn't he cute, Mione?" Ginny squealed, attempting to cheer up her best friend.

"Who?" Hermione glanced up, her eyes locking instantly with the Bulgarian Seeker's.

Viktor Krum's intense, dark eyes were fixed on her, and Hermione felt her pulse quicken, butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of him, but she couldn't tear her gaze away. He was rugged and strong, with an air of toughness about him, yet his eyes held a softness that she hadn't expected. Those deep, intense eyes…

High above, Viktor soared, the roar of the crowd surging in his ears. He performed a final loop, waving briefly, but something down below caught his attention. Amid the sea of faces, there was a girl—a girl with light brown hair. And she was reading. Reading? At a Quidditch match?

Intrigued, his gaze lingered. There was a quiet grace about her, something that stood out in the chaos of the stadium. She spoke animatedly to the girl next to her, and then, as if sensing his eyes on her, she looked up. Their gazes locked.

For a moment, the stadium, the noise, everything around them seemed to fade. It was just the two of them, as if time had stopped. Her lips, soft and pink, parted slightly in surprise. Who is this girl? Viktor wondered.

He couldn't look away from her light brown eyes, shining like caramel in the sunlight, framed by long, delicate lashes. She was captivating.

Before he could dwell on it any longer, the announcer's voice boomed across the stadium.

"Good evening! It gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup. Let the match begin!"