Dumbledore returned in the morning as promised. When the door to the infirmary creaked open, Hermione was already scrubbing at grainy eyes with the heels of her hands. Sunlight filtered gently through the glazing bars of the tall, arch top windows, casting grid patterns across the floor.

Harry still looked to be asleep, and Ron was snoring softly with his head hanging over the back of his chair. Sirius raised his head, watching Dumbledore stride across the floor to meet Madam Pomfrey, who had been tending Moody at the end of the ward.

Hermione sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Dumbledore glanced quickly across all of them and began speaking with Madam Pomfrey in low tones. Madam Pomfrey was shaking her head.

Before Dumbledore had the chance to say anything to them, the door to the hospital wing banged open. Ron's head snapped up with a grunt, and Harry stirred, yawning widely.

"Dumbledore, I really must insist that you allow me to bring— ah." Cornelius Fudge cut off, looking over at Harry and the group surrounding him.

Two Aurors flanked the Minister, marked out by the badges pinned to the front of their robes. They cut impressive figures next to a much shorter Fudge, who was twisting his lime green bowler hat between his hands.

"Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly. "I thought we'd agreed that you would question Barty Crouch first?"

Fudge moved further into the ward, the two Aurors keeping close on either side of him. "Yes, well, I've sent Dawlish up to begin the process of transferring him into custody. But before I go in, I must insist you allow me to take a dementor or two inside for additional protection. This man is dangerous and, by all accounts, a madman. Why, in your letter you said that he claims to have been interfering with the tournament on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

Dumbledore walked over to intercept Fudge a few feet in front of Harry's bed. Harry was sitting up now, eyes locked on Fudge.

"That is the truth, Cornelius," Dumbledore said firmly. "Voldemort was directing Crouch's actions, all in a scheme to return himself to power. And the plan succeeded. Voldemort has been fully revived."

Fudge, who had flinched violently at Voldemort's name, seemed unable to recover himself. "See here, Dumbledore… that is preposterous. You-Know-Who back? He's dead, I tell you. He's been dead for thirteen years… Simply ridiculous. Completely nonsensical…"

Fudge trailed off while twisting his bowler hat even more violently, still muttering a string of words in which Hermione was only able to catch "ludicrous" and "impossible". She felt her eyes widen in disbelief.

Dumbledore glanced at Harry before fixing Fudge with a level look. "Harry here had the great misfortune of bearing witness to Voldemort's rebirth. Later today, I'm sure he will consent to answering any lingering questions you may have on the matter. Minerva, Filius, and myself have all heard Barty Crouch's confession under the influence of Veritaserum. The stories match perfectly, and explain a great deal that has happened since Bertha Jorkins went missing. If you will accompany me to Filius's office, you can hear this confession for yourself."

Strangely, Fudge looked even more alarmed than he had previously.

"Yes, yes, in good time, Dumbledore," Fudge blustered, scanning around the room. "Dawlish has him well in hand, and I'm sure Amelia Bones and the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement will wish to have a hand in the man's interrogation. The problem, of course, with Veritaserum is that the suspect will tell whatever they believe to be true, no matter if it is or is not. A dire problem, indeed, with such outrageous tales being told already."

"You don't believe me, Minister?" Harry said quietly.

Fudge turned unwillingly to consider Harry. Hermione held her breath as the silence stretched.

"Now, Harry, you must understand there are procedures to be followed," Fudge said finally, plastering on a patronising smile. "I am sure you have had a terrible ordeal — whatever happened — but with certain facts just come to light in regards to your… well-being… headaches, nightmares, hallucinations and the like… you'll understand if we cannot simply take your story alone as fact."

"I can prove it," Harry said, his eyes emerald fire as he stared defiantly at Fudge. "Crouch sent me to a graveyard. Wormtail — that's Peter Pettigrew — was there. He performed the ritual to bring Voldemort back. Afterwards, Voldemort summoned his Death Eaters and I can name them! Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Macnair, Nott, Malfoy—" Hermione inhaled sharply, feeling her chest constrict.

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge cried in outrage. "All of them were! You are simply reciting the names of those who were acquitted almost thirteen years ago, and I will not stand for it. Several of those gentlemen are upstanding Ministry employees and generous philanthropists. You have done your homework looking into old trial records, Mister Potter, but I will not have it. And Peter Pettigrew? That poor boy was murdered by Sirius Black, a known supporter of You-Know-Who."

Sirius laid his ears back and growled at Fudge.

"The Trace then!" Harry cut back in quickly. "Check your records. They will prove I was in the graveyard last night, and show all of the spells Voldemort and his followers cast around me, and those I used to defend myself."

Fudge's face darkened further. "You did not do your research as thoroughly as I thought then, Potter, or you would very well know that the Ministry does not record the activity of underage individuals during the school year for obvious reasons!"

Harry angrily opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore held up a hand to forestall him. Harry closed it again, still fuming.

"I think, Harry, that you still need rest after your ordeal last night. But please know this, Cornelius; Harry has my full confidence. He is as sane as either of us. I believe his scar troubles him whenever Voldemort is nearby, or feeling a particularly strong emotion. I will gladly explain more on the way, if you will follow me," Dumbledore said, gesturing towards the exit as he began striding towards it.

Fudge grunted sourly before turning on his heel to follow Dumbledore. The two Aurors trailed after him, neither one looking back.

"Very well, Dumbledore, but there is still the matter of the rest of the Tournament to discuss," Fudge said in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation clear of anything concerning a resurrected Dark Lord. "I've already sent word to Bagman. There has clearly been interference from the beginning, and I do not think we can reasonably expect…" Fudge's voice was lost as he left the room after Dumbledore.

Harry looked around at Hermione and Ron now, open anger still plain on his features. "Can you believe him?"

"He'll come around, mate," Ron said reassuringly. "He has to after hearing Crouch confess."

Sirius got up, tail wagging, and put his paws up on the side of Harry's bed.

Madam Pomfrey was standing stock-still in the middle of the ward in shock. She gave herself a shake, then swept past them all. "I'll just have breakfast sent up, shall I? Although what I'm going to find for a dog…" she trailed off, shaking her head again, then disappeared into her office.

Sirius looked around once before shifting back into a man, sitting now on the edge of Harry's bed. Hermione got up hurriedly and drew the curtains closed in case anyone wandered by, then pulled another chair over next to Ron's.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Ron," Sirius said with a sigh. "About Fudge coming around. It looks like he's going to be difficult."

"Well, he'd be barking to ignore that You-Know-Who's back," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry growled in frustration. "All because I let Pettigrew go. None of this would have happened without him. If only he hadn't escaped last year…"

"Harry, it's not your fault," Sirius said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing last year. Voldemort would have just found another way to come back. What's important is that you're here, relatively unharmed, and we can start preparing. He won't be nearly as strong as he was last time, what with half his followers in Azkaban and others of them too scared to return."

Crack!

Dobby appeared at the foot of Harry's bed, laden with a huge pewter tray piled high with dishes of bacon, eggs, porridge, and a stack of toast. A pitcher of pumpkin juice wobbled precariously next to three silver goblets and an empty bowl. Sirius smirked at the sight of the bowl.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squeaked. "Dobby has come to bring your breakfast, sir. Although Dobby was told there would be a dog…"

"Hey Dobby," Harry said, grinning. "Don't worry, this is all great. Thank you."

"Of course, Harry Potter." Dobby set the tray down on the bedside table. "Dobby has heard whispers about what happened. Harry Potter is a brave and great wizard, and Dobby was most frightened to hear about the danger Harry Potter was in. All of the elves was, sir. Poor Winky was distraught to hear about Mister Crouch and his son, too. Dobby hasn't seen her since last night."

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for Winky; house-elves really got a raw deal. Winky couldn't help that her master had been cruel, and his son, evil. Then to be dismissed as if she meant nothing…

Hermione ground her teeth, resolving to redouble her efforts for the equal rights of house elves. Change at Hogwarts had been a start, but it wasn't enough. Maybe she could form some sort of society. There had to be others that realised the injustice of it all.

After Dobby left, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Sirius dug into their breakfast, scarfing down the entire tray and more as it refilled. Feeling marginally better with full bellies, they talked lightly, trying their best to avoid the subjects of Voldemort or Fudge.

Eventually, Hermione and Ron decided to let Harry and Sirius have some time alone, excusing themselves to go freshen up around half past one. They returned to Gryffindor Tower without being stopped once; it seemed likely that whatever whispers Dobby had heard had yet to leak out to the rest of the school.

Hermione's first order of business was to stop off at the loo, then return to her dormitory for a change of clothes. Crookshanks was waiting by his bowls, tail swishing and yellow eyes fixed on her own. She was relieved when he allowed her to pick him up immediately, burying her face into his long ginger fur and crooning affection into his ear. He purred contentedly in her arms for a while before insisting loudly upon being fed.

Laughing, Hermione complied, then began rummaging through her dresser for a fresh blouse and pair of jeans. Only when she took off her robes did she remember that the Marauder's Map was still folded up inside her pocket. She moved it to the drawer of her bedside table for safekeeping until she got the chance to return it to Harry.

When she took the stairs back to the common room, Hermione was surprised to find most of the Gryffindor students assembled, looking around expectantly. Not a moment later, Professor McGonagall climbed cautiously through the portrait hole, a very grave look on her face.

She announced that there was to be an unplanned assembly over the dinner hour, as Professor Dumbledore would like to address them all in regards to the Triwizard Tournament. Students were to be seated at their House tables promptly by six o'clock this evening.

Immediate chatter broke out following the announcement as everyone speculated what Dumbledore would have to say. McGonagall's serious tone hadn't caught; most of the conversations Hermione overheard were full of excitement.

She met Ron's eyes across the room and he grimaced faintly. They, at least, could be certain that the news was nothing good.

When they returned to the hospital wing to tell Harry about Dumbledore's announcement, it was to find that Dumbledore himself was already there. Harry was shouting.

"Escaped! How could he have escaped?" Harry yelled, visibly distressed. He was standing by his bed now, dressed in clean clothes that must have been fetched from his dormitory. His hands were balled into fists by his side. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

Dumbledore's blue eyes held none of their usual twinkle, and his face appeared more lined than ever. "Do not be alarmed, Harry. I do not believe Crouch will attempt to return to Hogwarts again."

Hermione felt her mouth fall open as she and Ron moved over next to Harry. Dumbledore inclined his head towards them as he continued.

"As to how he escaped, I only have my suspicions. Winky, the Crouch family's former house-elf, developed a strong attachment to Barty Crouch the son. She looked after him all those years while he was confined to his home, controlled and hidden by his father. I believe that when Winky heard tell of Crouch being discovered in the castle last night, she couldn't resist speaking with him one last time."

Hermione felt her heart sink, dreading to hear what Dumbledore would say next.

"Dawlish, the Auror in charge of guarding Crouch, did not see anyone enter or leave the room until Cornelius, against my wishes, brought two dementors inside the school in order to transport Crouch to Azkaban. Winky is not in her right mind, you see, and I believe that in a moment of confusion and panic for her former master's life, she disapparated with him, inadvertently allowing him to escape. She arrived back in the kitchens, injured and in considerable distress, only half an hour ago, and Dobby came to find me immediately."

"Oh no…" Hermione breathed at the same time that Harry said, "But I thought she didn't work for the Crouch family anymore?"

"She does not," Dumbledore agreed. "I have another theory that may explain Winky's actions, leaving her little choice in the matter. Most regrettably, Barty Crouch Senior passed away from his injuries in St. Mungo's early this morning, leaving his son as the sole remaining heir of the Crouch bloodline. Ancestral magic is a very ancient and complex branch of magic indeed, but suffice it to say, Crouch certainly knew that he had come into possession of the estate the moment his father passed. Winky's family had served his own for generations, and I believe he took advantage of her unsteady state to compel her to reenter his service for a short time."

Hermione's breath caught. Ron scratched his head. "But then, why would she come back to Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Being wandless himself, Crouch most likely knew that Winky would, in time, easily overcome him with her own brand of powerful magic. She arrived back in the kitchens clutching a single shoe, the very one Crouch used while posing as Alastor, and has not yet been persuaded to give it up. I have tended her injuries for now, but she is in too fragile of a state for questioning. From what little information I was able to gather, it appears Crouch had the foresight to order her silence on his whereabouts before dismissing her and leaving her in no condition to attempt to follow."

Harry sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, face in his hands.

Dumbledore stepped beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, I want you to stay here for the remainder of the day. If you are feeling up to it, you may resume classes alongside everyone else tomorrow morning. Sirius will be back to spend the evening with you, but I'm afraid he will be unable to stay longer. There is much work to do, and the Minister's response to events over the past twenty four hours has changed everything. I will let you know if I hear anything more regarding Crouch."

Hermione needed to know one more thing. "Sir, what's going to happen to Winky?"

Dumbledore looked up at her, blue eyes softening behind his half-moon spectacles. "Rest assured that Winky will be taken care of, Miss Granger. I do not believe anything she may have done today was of her own volition, and the Ministry does not know of her potential involvement. As it is still unconfirmed, I see no reason to inform them otherwise." He nodded matter-of-factly, then made to exit the infirmary, pausing only to leave Harry with instructions to continue to rest and recover.

Hermione perched on the edge of the bed next to Harry's again, smoothing the sheets with her hands. Ron fell into the same chair he had used overnight. Harry laid back, staring blankly at the ceiling. They sat in silence, the only sound the rhythmic tapping of Ron's fingertips across the arms of his chair.

Hermione wondered if the Ministry had put out search parties for Crouch. Even if Fudge refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, surely he knew how dangerous the man was. How long before Crouch found a wand? And how long before he was reunited with Voldemort, Wormtail, and the other Death Eaters? Crouch had proven himself powerful and resourceful.

Probably not long, then. It was a chilling thought.

Turning over events of the evening prior in her mind, another thought emerged that made her blood run cold. Crouch had personally witnessed Malfoy helping her, even if he was unaware of the full extent. How much did he know? Had he seen any of their interactions during his time with the Map?

And Crouch would undoubtedly come into contact with Malfoy's father, if he didn't go to Voldemort outright. Would Malfoy be in serious trouble because of it? Or would he be able to explain it away?

She would need to warn him. Give him time to prepare. Crouch would assuredly give his master any and all information relating to Harry, and the vision on the Astronomy Tower made it clear that the Malfoy family would fall out of favour with Voldemort at some point, but Hermione abhorred to think herself the cause.

Crouch hadn't mentioned Theo specifically, so she could only fervently hope that Theo was well out of it. Of course, he still deserved a warning in case.

Crouch would also expose Snape. After Snape's Mark burned last night, Hermione recalled how Dumbledore had immediately sent him away. Dumbledore's brief explanation of the Dark Mark made her certain that he'd sent Snape off to answer that summons. It would have been the only way to get someone near Harry.

Hermione errantly wondered if Occlumency could protect her against being subject to the Imperius Curse. Snape's features had gone carefully blank just before he left, and she was positive that he was employing it. If Dumbledore wanted Snape to spy, she hoped he was good enough to fool Voldemort. But... was he good enough to fool Dumbledore, too?

Hermione wasn't sure how long she, Harry, and Ron sat there, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, bustling over to disappear behind the curtains at the far end of the ward. Hermione broke the silence.

"Harry, did Dumbledore tell you what he was planning to announce to the school tonight at dinner?"

Harry turned his head. "No. I think he meant to, but when he mentioned Crouch's escape…" he trailed off.

"You don't think it's about You-Know-Who, do you?" Ron said, looking around at her.

"Professor McGonagall only said it was something about the tournament," Hermione replied slowly, beginning to question exactly how much Dumbledore planned to reveal.

Harry sat up. "He's got to be cancelling it, yeah? I mean with Voldemort back, who cares about some stupid tournament. Dumbledore probably wants to warn the whole school."

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said after a pause, thinking it through. "If the Ministry doesn't even believe You-Know-Who is back, do you think they'll let Dumbledore say anything?"

Harry snorted faintly. "Dumbledore doesn't seem to care what Fudge thinks. Besides, everyone will know soon enough. It's not like Voldemort's going to reform his ways."

Harry had a point, but she wasn't confident that things would play out the way he expected. Eventually, they decided that Hermione would go down to dinner to hear the announcement, and Ron would stay with Harry while waiting for Sirius to return.

She left the hospital wing at ten 'til six, heading towards the Great Hall. A din of chatter met her ears long before reaching it, and when she came around the entrance, the room was packed to bursting; almost all of the Hogwarts students were already seated, in addition to all of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students.

Hermione spotted Viktor over at the Slytherin table sitting next to Malfoy again. Malfoy was talking to Theo on his other side. Theo nudged him when she entered, and he looked over towards her.

She gave a small smile in their direction and half-raised a hand in greeting, hoping to surreptitiously reassure them that events after they'd parted last night had turned out better than they'd had a right to hope for. She, and most importantly, Harry, were going to be alright.

Theo grinned broadly, understanding the message. Malfoy's expression didn't change apart from a slight loosening of his posture, but he kept eye contact with her until she broke it, sliding into an empty seat between Ginny and a bulky fifth-year boy named Cormac.

The staff table was also full. Madame Maxime was squeezed in between Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Hermione didn't see Karkaroff anywhere. Or Ludo Bagman. Fudge was still around, standing off to the side of the staff table next to the doors of the adjacent antechamber. Even from across the room, the lime green bowler hat in his hands looked distinctly wrinkled.

At six o'clock exactly, Dumbledore stood and a hush fell over the entire Hall. He cleared his throat once and spread his hands in welcome.

"Thank you for joining me this evening. I'm sure you are all anxious for dinner, but I must first require a few minutes of your undivided attention, as I have some very important news to impart."

He folded his hands across the end of the long snowy beard gathered at his waist. Hermione chewed her bottom lip, eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

"With greatest regrets, I must first announce that the Triwizard Tournament has been cancelled."

At that, the Great Hall burst out in a cacophony of shouting. Ginny looked around at Hermione, wide-eyed and mouth open. Hermione could only shrug, lips twisted in commiseration. She looked over at Malfoy and Theo — Theo sat silently watching Dumbledore, mouth drawn in a tight line, and Malfoy sat with his eyes cast down, resolutely studying the table. Next to him, Viktor didn't look the least bit surprised.

Dumbledore waited a full minute for the chatter to die down, content to simply peer around the room over his half-moon spectacles. McGonagall's mouth turned down as she eyed the Gryffindor table sternly. Hermione gave a start to realise Snape was back in his usual seat, looking cold and dour as ever.

Finally, Dumbledore raised his hands again and the Hall was quiet once more.

"I am sure you are all wondering why we have had to go to such lengths. It was discovered yesterday evening that a man by the name of Bartemius Crouch Junior has been posing as a Hogwarts staff member and directly interfering with the Tournament."

Everyone suddenly began staring hard along the staff table, counting who was missing. Dumbledore continued without pause.

"The man in question was able to imprison and impersonate the individual hired for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Alastor Moody." A collective gasp ran around the room. "Alastor is in fragile condition, but with time, I am confident he will be restored to his full health. I should like you to know that you have never had the pleasure of interacting with the real Alastor Moody, as the impostor has been in place since the beginning of the school year. Myself, the other staff, and the Ministry are conducting a full investigation as to how this was allowed to happen. We believe that his illicit actions were limited to a few targeted individuals, but we urge you to come forward if you believe you were impacted by his presence in any way, or have knowledge of other suspicious activity. If you have any concerns or anything else you wish to discuss regarding this information come to light, your heads of House will be available for you to approach at any hour over the next several days."

"I must warn you. There is great danger abound—" Fudge cleared his throat loudly and gave Dumbledore a sharp look, which Dumbledore ignored, "—Barty Crouch Junior is a criminal and self-proclaimed Death Eater, or Voldemort supporter. You would do well to be on your guard, as the activity of such individuals appears to be on the rise."

A soft murmuring now filled the Hall. Dumbledore paid it no heed as he continued speaking.

"In any event, myself, Madame Maxime, and the Minister for Magic have conferred with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and we have agreed that it is in the best interest of the health and safety of our champions to conclude the tournament. They all performed admirably, and we realise that they have made many sacrifices in order to compete. Therefore, each of the champions will receive an award of two hundred and fifty galleons, a quarter of the original prize amount, as recompense for their participation."

Here and there a few students put their hands together in a light smattering of applause, unsure whether or not they should be congratulating the champions.

Harry had been right about one thing — Dumbledore probably insisted on cancelling the tournament now that Voldemort was back. Fudge's lips were puckered as if he tasted something sour.

Hermione noted that Dumbledore hadn't mentioned Karkaroff as part of that decision. Once Crouch had come back to himself after the Veritaserum last night, he'd said something about Karkaroff likely being on the run, and that seemed to fit in with his current absence. If he was a former Death Eater, he would have felt his Mark burn last night, too.

She had no idea why Bagman wasn't present, though. He was the Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports, after all.

Dumbledore gave a few closing remarks about staying vigilant and the importance of keeping strong and united or some such flowery rhetoric. Hermione's mind was otherwise occupied, whirring with questions about why Dumbledore hadn't said anything more about Voldemort. Perhaps he wanted to bring Fudge and the Ministry around first, so as to prevent enmity? Or maybe he wanted more time to begin preparations before inducing certain panic?

Suddenly, the usual evening spread materialised on the table in front of her, and Hermione realised that Dumbledore had finished speaking and resumed his seat, turning to talk to Madame Maxime. Hermione loaded her plate carefully, also trying to keep an eye on the staff table. Fudge stalked across the room towards Dumbledore, shadowed once again by Aurors, although this time there were three of them.

"Hermione, where are Ron and Harry?" Ginny asked, looking around.

Hermione hastily brought her eyes back to Ginny, accidentally tipping her plate so that her baked potato rolled off and hit the table with a thud. She scorched her fingertips replacing it.

"Um… hospital wing still, I think," Hermione said, wincing and shaking out her hand. "Ron's alright," she put in quickly, seeing Ginny's alarmed look. "Harry, too, mostly. It's just… do you mind if I just let them explain when they're ready? It'll be easier that way." Ginny gave her an odd look, but thankfully dropped the subject.

Fudge spoke a few quiet words with Dumbledore, then made his way between the long tables towards the exit, his entourage following close behind. He clapped his bowler hat back onto his head as he turned the corner.

"—did alright, I suppose, but on a broom myself, I'd have had that egg in half a minute," the large, curly-haired boy called Cormac was saying to someone on the other side of him. "Would have entered the competition myself, of course, if I hadn't been in the hospital wing for proving to Edwards that I'd squeeze a fire slug, remember? I only wish…" Hermione tuned him out as something brushed her ankle.

She looked down to see a small paper creature winding between her feet. Something with four legs. Looking around discreetly to make sure Ginny and the other students nearby were absorbed in their own conversations, Hermione reached a hand to the ground, pretending to adjust her trainer. Her fingers closed around the note and she pocketed it.

Hermione finished her meal then extricated herself from the bench, promising Ginny they'd talk later. She looked over toward the Slytherin table again on her way out, but Malfoy and Theo had already left. Stopping in a nearby alcove to dig the note out of her pocket, Hermione heard her name called out.

"Her-my-knee?" Viktor's voice.

She stepped out to greet him. "Over here, Viktor," she called out, giving him a friendly wave and a smile. When his eyes found her, his lips quirked up in return as he came to stand in front of her.

"Her-my-knee," Viktor repeated. "I just vanted to make sure you vere alright after last night. I am sorry if I frightened you."

"Oh, not at all," Hermione said, tucking a bothersome strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm glad you came in when you did. If Dumbledore hadn't been around… well, who knows what would have happened."

"That Crouch did not seem vell at all. Then he vas speaking of terrible things he'd done and seen, and about his son that turned out to be the impostor... But your Headmaster seemed to know vhat to do. Mine, on the other hand, has completely disappeared."

"I noticed he wasn't at dinner for the announcement this evening. Do you think he's alright?"

Viktor shrugged. "Probably. His cabin on the ship vas entirely empty. He vas another that hadn't seemed in his right mind for a long vhile. Ve vill be better off vithout him now, I think. He vasn't a very good teacher, and ve vere the ones who steered the ship, anyvay," Viktor grumbled, his thick brows drawn together.

Hermione chuckled softly in commiseration. Viktor's disgruntled expression cleared for a moment, then morphed into concern.

"Are you vell, though? Malfoy seemed to think you vere hurt yesterday."

"I'm alright now, thank you," Hermione said with a small smile. He nodded, pausing as if he expected more to her response. Seeming to realise that she wasn't going to elaborate, Viktor changed the subject.

"I am sorry that I have not been able to visit much, betveen Qvidditch and Karkaroff and the tournament. I do not know vhat vill happen now vith the tournament cancelled and Karkaroff gone, but I do not think ve vill be here much longer. I am still very… fond of you, Her-my-knee, and I vanted to see you again before ve had to leave."

Hermione was surprised to find that his words had little effect on her, now. Despite that, she felt a blush creeping into her cheeks, more from discomfort than anything. She looked up hesitantly at Viktor as he continued.

"I know that it vould not be easy, as I vill be very busy vith Qvidditch for avhile…" Hermione held her breath, suddenly nervous, "... but I still hope that ve can stay in touch? Even just as friends for now?" Viktor finished.

She breathed a tiny sigh of relief, favouring him with another smile.

"Of course we will. I would like that very much."

Viktor grinned. "Vonderful. And perhaps once you have graduvated, and my Qvidditch schedule is more predictable, ve could plan a visit, and then, vell… who knows," he said, smiling shyly now.

"That would be lovely," Hermione responded sincerely, redirecting the conversation. "I've heard Bulgaria is a beautiful country."

"It is," Viktor agreed. "Someday, I vould like to show it to you."

Hermione chatted with Viktor a while longer, asking about his recent signing with the leading club team in Bulgaria, before informing him that regretfully, she needed to get going.

"Of course. May I valk vith you back to your dormitory?" Viktor offered, proffering his arm.

Hermione hesitated, reluctant to disappoint him, but also reluctant to give the wrong impression. She didn't want to keep Harry and Ron waiting, either.

"Thank you, Viktor, but I've actually got to drop by the infirmary again this evening," Hermione said. "But I hope we can talk again before you have to leave?"

If Viktor was disappointed, he didn't let it show. They parted amicably, Viktor promising to find her again before he left, and Hermione continued on her way.

By the time Hermione arrived at the hospital wing, Sirius had already come and gone, apparently beginning some urgent mission at Dumbledore's request. She filled Harry and Ron in on Dumbledore's announcement at dinner and everything she had observed, from the other student's reactions to Fudge's obvious disregard.

Harry shrugged at the news that he would be receiving two hundred and fifty galleons prize money for competing in the tournament, but was indignant that Dumbledore hadn't yet told the school that Voldemort was back.

"But he's out there right now!" Harry insisted vehemently, eyes flashing behind his glasses. "Voldemort's out there, regrouping his followers, and Dumbledore's just going to sit there—"

"Harry, mate," Ron intervened. "Remember what Sirius said? Dumbledore's got to bring Fudge around first. If he can't… well, I'm sure everyone will find out soon enough."

Harry made a disgruntled sound but sat back against the headboard, an angry set to his mouth.

Only when Hermione had returned to her dormitory that night did she recall the note in her pocket. Making sure that Lavender and Parvati were absorbed in their conversation about the tournament cancellation, Hermione drew out the folded scrap of parchment. Upon closer inspection, she realised it was a small, intricately folded paper fox. With a small pang of regret, she unfolded the note to find that it held only three words.

Potions classroom. Midnight.