Patron (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

[Zege]

Very nice, a great chapter.

The only thing that wasn't as great was some of the dialogue in the Basilisk flashback. It felt a little... wooden? It just didn't seem to flow quite as well as the rest, particularly the Basilisk itself, and Ginnymort to a lesser extent.

 

[Starfox5]

Hm. Not sure about the Basilisk - maybe I should reduce ist dialogue to single words, like in canon.

Ginnymort - I wanted something fitting an evil teenager who monologued about his name in canon. An evil teenager from 50 years ago, that is, with considerable muggle influences, trying to go "all pureblood" already.

 

[Starfox5]

Changed the dialogue in the Basilisk Flashback slightly.

 

[Winchester]

Neat AU you've got here! I don't usually like when the setting is changed this much, but you've done a good job of keeping things interesting without adding the kind of thing that usually puts me off (like different kinds of magic, or elves, etc).

One thing that sprang to mind as I was reading the first chapter: playing vinyl records doesn't require any electricity, they can be read purely mechanically and spells can be used to replace all the electrical stuff we use for convenience on modern record players, like the motor to rotate the turntable and the amplifier/speaker setup, without really having to invent any effects we didn't see in canon already.

Cassette tapes would be trickier, but might be possible without too much complexity since we're still dealing with analogue recording. CD's on the other hand...

 

[Starfox5]

Neat AU you've got here! I don't usually like when the setting is changed this much, but you've done a good job of keeping things interesting without adding the kind of thing that usually puts me off (like different kinds of magic, or elves, etc).

Click to shrink...

Thank you. I wanted a more magical culture, a more fantastic world, but developed by using the canon spells and magics as a base so it's still "Harry Potter" and not "D&D with a veneer of HP".

One thing that sprang to mind as I was reading the first chapter: playing vinyl records doesn't require any electricity, they can be read purely mechanically and spells can be used to replace all the electrical stuff we use for convenience on modern record players, like the motor to rotate the turntable and the amplifier/speaker setup, without really having to invent any effects we didn't see in canon already.

Cassette tapes would be trickier, but might be possible without too much complexity since we're still dealing with analogue recording. CD's on the other hand...

Click to shrink...

Indeed, as shown in the 4th movie vinyl records would be possible to be played at Hogwarts. Hermione wants to get electronics working though - she's after far more than another way to play back music.

 

[alethiophile]

I like this. Watching with interest.

The AU bits are kind of fun, for their general quality of rationalizing stuff. I like the canon HP verse, but it does have a lot of strange warts.

 

[Starfox5]

I like this. Watching with interest.

The AU bits are kind of fun, for their general quality of rationalizing stuff. I like the canon HP verse, but it does have a lot of strange warts.

Click to shrink...

I wanted a universe where Dumbledore was competent, without the "Dumbledore is good and wise, so his decisions must be the best possible, so that means there must be a reason why it doesn't appear so at first glance, so it stands to reason that ..." headcanon madness. So, his actions, the world, or both changed accordingly to keep the general outline of Harry Potter.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 3: The Goblet of Fire

Draco Malfoy sat in his compartment, across from his girlfriend and future wife Pansy Parkinson. Provided he did not find a better bride, of course. He was still young, after all, and the Year of Discovery might change his mind. It would devastate the poor girl, but he had to think of his family first. Crabbe and Goyle sat at the door, acting as bodyguards.

Normally he'd plan his visit to Potter's compartment, preparing the best insults to throw at the upstart and his mudblood, and their uncouth redhead, enjoying the way they blustered and fumed when faced with superior wit, class and status, but unfortunately, he would have to go without such entertainment this time.

Maybe it was for the best - after the events he had taken part in after the Quidditch World Cup, a mere verbal confrontation might be too tame for him now that he had been blooded, and he might not control himself sufficiently, should wands get drawn. After all, he had left the realms of mere squabbles and child's hexes behind that night, when he had donned the sacred mask of the cause, and had drawn blood and more at the side of his father.

He smiled, remembering the screams, the smell of blood, and the useless pleading he had heard, and caused, that night. Pansy probably thought he was smiling at her, the foolish girl. Though while she was not the brightest witch of her generation, far from it if he was honest, even though he'd never admit that in front of his peers, she was quite attractive. Equally important, she knew her place. She never contradicted him and always supported him. She would make a wonderful wife for a Head of Family, even if that might not turn out to be him, should he find an equally well-mannered and attractive girl with maybe a bit more wit to her.

But until then he'd enjoy her company.

*****​

"Unfortunately the Channel Tunnel is not yet open for passengers so we took a plane to fly back." Hermione expected Ron to ask what the Channel Tunnel was, but she was disappointed.

"Dad is still trying to find out how muggle planes stay in the air without magic. It just makes no sense." The redhead shook his head, still petting Crookshanks. Hermione thought he probably didn't know what the Channel was. Most wizards apparated, flooed and portkeyed around. And she had had such a good explanation ready… She noticed that no red hair was covering Ron's new robes. Decent ones too, high quality enchantments, but subtly done - a far cry from his first set of new robes last year, bought right after the gold from 'Baiting the Basilisk' had arrived. The only way those could have been more obviously expensive would have been with their price tag displayed on the chest.

"There are books available which explain the principles well." She refrained from pursing her lips. Mister Weasley was a nice man, but for all his fascination with muggles, he had a patronizing manner that hadn't been received well by her parents or herself. She snuck a glance at Harry. He was sitting next to her, at the window, across from Ron and Crookshanks the traitor, who was still sitting in Ron's lap. He had a book on his lap, but hadn't read it during her story, despite having heard the story before. Unlike other years, his robes were not wrinkled - the spells on them prevented that. Hermione still looked him over, just in case.

"Speaking of France, when will the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrive?" Harry spoke up, closing his book.

"They'll arrive at the end of September. Enough time for us to get settled in before they arrive, enough time for them to get settled in before the drawing." Hermione answered. She had studied the schedule of the new term extensively as soon as she had heard that the next Triwizard Tournament would be held there. They had missed the last one; it had been held at Durmstrang during their first year. In three years Beauxbatons would be hosting it.

"Are you entering your name for the drawing, mate?" Ron asked, again surprising Hermione. She had expected him to start talking about Krum, who would be arriving with the students from Durmstrang. But then, neither Harry nor Ron had mentioned the World Cup Final yet. Or the attack afterwards.

Harry shook his head. "No. We thought about it, but decided against it. The tasks are too dangerous and challenging for a 4th year student." Not exactly the reasoning, Hermione knew. The tasks were traditionally not more dangerous than a professional Quidditch match - a high probability of getting hurt, but very few deaths. That hadn't been the case when the tournament started, of course. The accounts of those read like war reports. But if Harry entered his name as a mere 4th year he was likely to be seen as reckless, arrogant, or flighty. Appearances mattered and as Head of Family and a Patron, he had to act more mature than his age. He'd have a better chance of winning if he entered in three years, with three more years at Hogwarts under his belt. Further, while a minor or even petty issue, he'd rather not give Malfoy and others the opportunity to claim he had been judged and found wanting by the goblet.

"And as a Champion you'd have to put up your Firebolt as your stake in it." Ron nodded at Harry. "Would be a daft thing to do when competing with 7th years. Besides, there is the Duelling Competition and the Quidditch Tournament to take part in." Ron's eyes lit up at the thought of two Quidditch tournaments at Hogwarts that year. "And the Curse Breaking Competition." He added, with a nod to Hermione.

"It's tradition that the stakes are ransomed back to the other participants by the winning Champion, but it would be a waste of gold either way." Hermione leaned back, slipped out of her shoes and pulled her feet up on the bench again. The rules didn't say anything about that tradition, of course. Like so much in the Magical World, one couldn't trust the laws and rules without knowing the unwritten customs and traditions.

"Well, we've got Quidditch, and with Viktor Krum!" Ron leaned forward a bit, which caused the traitor on his lap to meow in protest.

"If he's chosen as Durmstrang's Champion he won't be taking part in the accompanying competitions of the Triwizard Tournament." Hermione took the wind out of Ron's sails before he could gather enough speed for one of his enthusiastic rants about Quidditch in general, and Krum in particular. That is, if he is chosen. There might be a more qualified student among its delegation."

Ron's mouth was open, but he didn't form words for half a minute, then he sat back with a frown. "Oh, you! Now I have to hope there's a better wizard in Durmstrang than Krum just so I can see him play again!"

Hermione giggled, then added. "He'll have to train regularly too, to keep in shape for his next season, so you'll see him flying anyway."

"That's not the same." Ron was only partially mollified.

Hermione shrugged, then stretched some, twisting around so she could lean her back against Harry's shoulder. The locking spell on the door would allow her enough time to sit up in case someone paid them a visit - it wouldn't do to fuel rumors by acting to familiarly with Harry in public, after all. She suppressed the anger she usually felt when thinking about the role she had to play in public. Dutiful, meek retainer. Following her Patron around, ready to serve, grateful for the chance to be instructed in the ways of polite society and cultured folks. Some days not even Harry's presence and support could calm her down and she had to go and vent, cast spells to wreck some conjured things or rubbish until she felt better. And yet it was her best shot at a better life.

Hermione changed the topic before Harry and Ron could get lost in Quidditch details. "Do you think we'll get Mad-Eye Moody again as guest teacher?" Last year the grizzled retired auror had filled in for Professor Lupin once a month. Hermione still couldn't believe no one else had caught up on Lupin's condition - or curse.

"I sure hope so! He's great - all practise, no theory! And no homework!" Ron sounded particularly enthusiastic about the last part, but from his grin and sly glance at her, Hermione thought he was just trying to get a rise out of her.

"Remus isn't just theory and homework either." Harry defended his godfather's best friend. Hermione nodded. Both of them owed the cursed teacher their lives, or souls, though she did not like to considering that particular aspect - if not for Remus' teaching Harry the Patronus charm, both of them would have died that year. The young witch shivered, remembering the horrid feeling when they found themselves surrounded by dozens of those demons, at the shores of Black Lake. She had collapsed, caught in nightmarish memories, barely able to keep a grip on her wand, but Harry had managed to drive them away with an immensely strong corporeal Patronus, a gleaming stag that had charged the monsters and driven them away. And it had filled her with warmth, prevented her from drowning in her own dark memories. Hunching over, she suddenly felt an arm around her shoulders, then she was pulled into Harry's side. Resting her head on his shoulder she took a few deep breaths.

"Well, at least with the twins in their Year of Exploration, we shouldn't see as many pranks fromthem as last year." Ron was looking out of the window while changing the topic. Hermione was grateful for the gesture - she felt embarrassed by her own reaction to that particular memory. She would have liked to stay where she was for a bit longer, but that would have been impolite, so she shifted again, sitting up.

"Unless of course the twins think they can impress girls with their pranks." Harry remarked, to Ron's visible chagrin. He was probably right, Hermione silently agreed. From what she had observed in her time at Hogwarts, the 6th and 7th years tended to show off their skill with magic whenever possible. She hadn't ever said so aloud, but it was a kind of mating behaviour - wizards and witches putting their best sides, or what they considered their best sides, on display in an attempt to attract their preferred sex. It was a bit more complicated, of course, but there was a reason the older students had single rooms. Harry at least would be glad to be able to go to bed without selective silencing charms to deal with Ron's snoring.

Ron leaned back, hitting his head on the cushioned backrest a couple times. "Merlin's Beard! I'll need to keep my guard up at all times!" He was right too - with Percy having graduated and started at the Ministry already, Ron and Ginny were the only ones left at Hogwarts the twins could target with pranks and keep it "in the family". They'd not touch Ginny, of course. Not after Ginny's first year. Hermione reached out and patted Ron's thigh with a grin. "Don't worry. We can study lots of spells to help with that."

"Ah, yes, thank you." Again he surprised her - she would have expected him to balk at that. Before she could ponder that further, Harry cut in.

"I think we can expect them to crank it up a notch or two." He smiled a bit lopsidedly.

"Do you base that expectation on your experiences with your godfather?" Hermione asked, with a glint in her eyes. Harry had been remarkably close-mouthed about some of those lessons. She knew she should not pry, but couldn't help herself.

"Ah, yes." She narrowed her eyes - an opening!

*****​

Harry almost winced when he saw Hermione lean forward with that expression in her eyes. When faced with knowledge kept from her, the girl was very … determined. He deflected her questions by handing her a book from Sirius' family library she had seen, but hadn't managed to read yet during her stay at Grimmauld Place. He felt a bit bad about implying that this was what Sirius had taught him, but there was no way he was telling her what Sirius had revealed to him in those private talks. If she knew what Sirius ancestors had been up to as Patrons of pretty muggleborn witches or wizards she'd wreck the compartment with accidental magic. Or worse, stare at him as if he was one of those ancestors. He remembered the expression in her eyes back in their second year, when he had lost his temper during an argument between them, and had ordered her to shut up. He had truly meant it, and so the magic of the Patron Oath had enforced his order, for the first and so far last time. Hermione had been shocked when she had been unable to speak. Shocked, hurt and betrayed. It had taken weeks until they had gotten over that, until she had trusted him again, and he had never forgotten it since. That made the dreams he sometimes had, involving him and Hermione, worse though. He'd never do that to her, of course. But knowing that he could do it, as her Patron… he pushed that thought away. Buried it under guilt.

Another thing he would not talk about with Hermione was what Sirius had told him about his parents. The trouble they had had due to their lack of a Magical Marriage, since their muggle marriage had no legal effects or consequences in the Magical World. That his mother had almost left his father over that. That was both too personal, and would be too close to Hermione's own future, should she ever fall in love with a pureblood.

And of course there were the tales of Sirius' own "Year of Discovery", as even the younger generation had called it back then. That wasn't something one shared with a girl. Or anyone, Harry had decided. Maybe he'd share some with Ron, when his friend started to tell tales of his older brothers.

He wasn't sure how serious Sirius had been, anyway. As much as he loved his godfather, it was clear that twelve years in Azkaban had affected him greatly, and that he had not yet recovered from that. Hermione had said she doubted he'd ever fully recover, especially without therapy. Harry disagreed, but even he wasn't sure if that was not just wishful thinking.

Sirius had taken weeks after his escape from Azkaban to recover his wits enough to think and plan, after he had blindly rushed to the Dursleys, and then started towards Hogwarts. Months to recover enough to stop spending more time as a dog than as a wizard. To write to Remus, informing him of Wormtail's survival and current location. It had taken months, true, but his godfather had managed. Hermione had acknowledged that, but had claimed that had been because Sirius had had an urgent need to recover, to save Harry. Harry almost was glad that they hadn't found yet whoever had sent the dementors after him - it might give Sirius a reason to keep recovering.

The incident at the World Cup certainly had had an effect. Harry's robes were almost glowing with protective spells. He and Hermione had been taught a number of spells as well, Black Family spells. Not even Remus had made much of a fuss about breaking the underage magic laws. And Sirius would visit Remus very often during the term - and with him, Harry.

He glanced over to Ron, who was reading the latest "Quidditch Weekly", then to Hermione, who was, unsurprisingly, lost in the book he had given her. The pendants of her torc swayed gently with each of her movements. They should update the spells on the necklace; so far it only allowed her to sense his presence, and him to signal her, but Hermione wanted to add spells herself. His young wand, friend, was sometimes too proud for her own good, despite all her claims of being pragmatic.

He leaned back and stared out of the window, watching the countryside change as the train made its way to Hogwarts. Their friends and acquaintances would visit, as usual. Neville, Luna, the Quidditch team. A few "fans", maybe. He doubted Malfoy would make his regular visit bearing insults and threats. Sirius becoming the Head of Family for the Blacks had changed things. Money mattered, and Sirius had tons of it. So for now Harry enjoyed the quiet. Soon he'd be back at Hogwarts, where privacy was scarce even for a wizard.

*****​

Hermione looked out of the window, next to the door of the train. Hogsmeade Station was the usual chaotic mess after the Hogwarts Express had arrived. Hagrid was shouting loudly to collect the first years - it was a testament to his good nature that none of the young students fled from him, instead of heading towards him, in her opinion. The older students were forming a big throng of black-robes slowly moving towards the waiting carriages. Herself, Harry and Ron were waiting for the majority of the students to get underway. It would be a bit too dangerous for Harry in the middle of a crowd, too easy for anyone with a wand to curse him in the back - Hogsmeade was not Hogwarts, after all. Not that Hogwarts was as safe as people claimed.

She saw Faye Dunbar step out of the train. Most of the students around her ignored her, some even laughed - as usual. Faye was a Purist, a member of a sect of Wizard and Witches who believed magic should not be wasted on frivolous things such as convenience, but saved for important, life saving or changing tasks. So the girl - her room mate for three years now - didn't wear enchanted robes, or use cosmetic spells. Nor spells to protect her trunk or bed from pranks. The perfect victim for bullies who took offense at her views, even though she never tried to force them on anyone else. Even if she could get a bit preachy about them.

Hermione couldn't stand such behaviour, so she had done something about it. Though Faye hadn't thanked Hermione for putting up some weak wards that covered both her and Faye's bed and trunk, she hadn't asked her to remove them either, so Hermione figured the other witch accepted them even if she couldn't acknowledge them without violating her beliefs. Good enough in her opinion.

She could understand why many witches and wizards scorned the Purists - the wizard economy ran largely on superfluous magic. Cosmetic spells, charms on clothes, charms on household items, all those spells needed to be maintained, replaced, upgraded. A large part of the population not employed by the Ministry worked in those fields. If there was no demand for such spells, there would be an economic crisis. Maybe - Hermione was no economist herself, and Magic tended to wreck havoc on muggle models.

"See you at the feast!" Luna Lovegood passed the trio together with Aicha Antar, another Ravenclaw 3rd year. Hermione had heard Aicha hated the school robes and wore her traditional clothes until the last moment. A small, glittering figure, barely 10 centimeter tall, flitted after the dark-skinned witch. Hermione would have thought it was a sort of pixie, but Aicha claimed it was a genie from her homeland, bound to serve her family. Luna agreed with Aicha, but Hermione wasn't sure if that was not simply out of loyalty to her best friend. Although the tales she had heard of Cho Chang's "accidents" when she had tried to bully Luna certainly went beyond what Hermione thought a pixie was capable of, and both Luna and Aicha had had perfect alibis during each of those events.

Finally the way was clear, so to speak, and the three friends made their way towards the last carriage. Hermione opened the door for Harry. She didn't see anyone watching, but that didn't mean anything. She really didn't want any rumors about her not showing proper deference to, much less being intimate with her Patron to spread.

*****​

The sorting had happened as usual. Hermione hadn't seen any true muggleborn among the new first years, unlike last year. She looked over to the Hufflepuff table, where the freshly-minted second year Matthew Amsler was seated. The witch had tried to take the wizard under her wing, at least a bit, last year, but had given up quickly. The Hufflepuffs were a closely-knit bunch and had viewed her with a bit of suspicion, and he'd have a Patron of his own soon enough. Had one now, actually - Darlene Abbot, a former Hufflepuff witch, and Hannah's Grandmother and Head of Family. A good choice, by all accounts, but Hermione couldn't help feeling that Matthew would have been better off with someone like Harry. Someone who understood the muggle world and did not expect the muggleborn to forget about it. Not that she or Harry showed that, of course - in public they acted more formal than just about everyone else.

With the last first year sorted, the feast arrived on the tables, and everyone turned to the Headmaster. Even the first years knew about what was coming, seeing as there was no true muggleborn among them. Dumbledore stood up and raised his goblet.

"At the beginning of a new term we are gathered to give the gods their due so they will bless us with a fruitful, peaceful year." The staff members and all the students took hold of their goblets and stood up as well, following his example.

"Janus." He dipped the goblet. Wine started to fall towards the floor, but vanished before it reached the stones. "Bless us with a good start." Hermione could feel her skin tingling when she dipped her own goblet, and watched red wine drip from it, the liquid vanishing in sparks before it reached the floor.

"Hecate. Let our knowledge of magic grow." The wine kept falling, more than her goblet could have held. The tingling intensified and the young witch felt a source of warmth, of heat, grow in her chest until she felt drops of sweat appear on her skin.

"Apollo. Keep us healthy." Hermione's hair was almost floating now, small sparks dancing around the tips, until the wine finally stopped falling.

The Headmaster sat down, followed by the staff and the students. While most started to "tuck in", as Dumbledore had told them to, Hermione took a few deep breaths, waiting until her skin had stopped tingling and her hair and chest felt normal again. Glancing around, she spotted Luna and Aicha as well as Harry in a similar state, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

She didn't know why they were affected like this, or what affected them. She had looked into it, of course. Most of the Wizards and Witches believed it was the effect of a shared ritual dating back into the time when the Celts and Romans lived in Britain. Most books she had read skirted around the question whether or not there were gods - the British Wizards had rejected Christianity when it turned on them during the witch hunts, and adopted the Old Gods again, but the number of true faithful was rather low, or so Hermione thought. And for all her intellectual curiosity the witch had shied away from finding out who might be in the right about such matters. Religion, in her opinion, was a very dangerous subject to explore.

A nudge from Harry reminded her that the feast had begun, and she started to eat.

*****​

Hermione stood in front of Hogwarts, like all other students, waiting for the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to arrive. To her right was Harry, and next to him stood Ron. Hermione had been researching the event. Beauxbatons would arrive with a flying carriage and Durmstrang with a ship traveling under the sea. When the Triwizard Tournament had started the delegations lived in the magical vehicles for the duration of their stay as well, but these days, the hosting school prepared suitable suites for the visitors, and the only reason Portkeys were not used was tradition. That, and the nauseating way portkey travel worked, especially if going that far, Hermione had to admit. Taking one to the World Cup had been bad enough, and that had been a short trip.

That Hogwarts had switched from their own flying carriage to the Hogwarts Express to transport their delegation in the 19th century was still considered as a blatant breach of tradition by some wizards. Privately Hermione wondered if the Hogwarts Express would travel through the Channel Tunnel when the next tournament would be held in three years, or make its own track as it had done before. Thanks to her academic and other merits, she was likely to be part of the Hogwarts delegation and would find out then, unless she would rather focus on her NEWTs then. Glancing at Harry, she amended her statement to 'if Harry wouldn't rather focus on his NEWTs'. Which she didn't think he would. Even though it might better for him.

One of the younger students let out an excited yell, pointing up into the sky. The older students tried to act more blasé, but turned and looked anyway. There, a speck growing rapidly in size, soon discernable as a huge carriage drawn by winged horses - Abraxans. Hagrid had been very happy about being able to care for them. Almost as happy as he was about the Headmistress of Beauxbatons arriving - it was a barely-kept secret that they two half-giants had a relationship.

The carriage landed safely and softly, Hagrid already taking the reins of the horses - he had to be used to handling them, as long as he had been at Hogwarts. Then the students of Beauxbatons appeared, led by the tallest witch that Hermione had ever seen. Her giant blood was as obvious as Hagrid's, but mentioning it would have been impolite, so everyone ignored it as a matter of course.

Hermione paid more attention to the students while Dumbledore greeted his colleague warmly. The French Wizards and witches were clad in blue robes of various styles, but sharing the exact same color and material - enchanted silk, she guessed. Compared to the Hogwarts school robes they were, in her opinion, more elegant, if not quite as daring as some of the clothes worn by the 6th and 7th years at Hogwarts under their open robes. As enchanted, though - Hermione could spot a number of spells right away. She wondered if Beauxbatons had different, more egalitarian uniforms for the lower years, like Hogwarts, or if their true muggleborns would stand out even more for the lack of enchanted clothes in their first year. She couldn't tell, since the two dozen students were all older, and asking without offending anyone might be difficult.

"Wow! Look at that bird! She's magnificent!" Ron exclaimed suddenly, together with a dozen or more students echoing his sentiments. Ah, a veela. That explained it. She glanced at Harry, who had a faint grin on his face, probably remembering Ron's reaction to the dancing veelas at the World Cup. That had been amusing.

The French had barely entered the castle when the Ship of Durmstrang rose from the depths of Black lake, water running down the enchanted sails and wooden hull without touching either. Hermione recognized the design as a schooner. Probably "adapted" half a century earlier than the Hogwarts Express. A bit odd for a Bulgarian school, or so she thought. Soon a plank was lowered, and the students and teachers disembarked. Dumbledore greeted his counterpart cordially, but with less warmth than he had greeted Madam Maxime, or so Hermione thought. It could be that the Headmaster was just more charming towards witches, but it probably was because Karkaroff had been a Death Eater. He escaped prison when he gave up all other Death Eaters he knew, but it would be a reason enough to keep one's distance to the man, from what she knew of his actions in the war.

Durmstrang's students were wearing three different sets of uniforms. One identical set each for the three countries the school was drawing students from - Poland, Romania and Bulgaria - Hermione realized. All wore the same dark cloak, with Durmstrang's heraldry on it. They formed three columns, eight each, and marched into the castle with stoic faces. No veelas among them, Hermione noticed - despite the large contingent of them at the World Cup. It seemed what she had heard about that school only allowing pureblood students had been true.

Ron, as was expected, had almost gotten a cramp in his neck trying to look at Krum for as long as possible, and was still excited, almost gushing about his idol when the three took their seats at the Gryffindor table while the visitors were shown their new quarters. "Have you seen him? He'll surely be chosen in the drawing!"

Hermione and Harry exchanged amused looks before nodding at their friends words. It did look like a good year.

*****​

Harry Potter did not like Samhain. He hadn't liked Halloween either, before he had learned about the existence of magic and had attended Hogwarts. It was the day his parents had died. Had been murdered by a madman, with a traitor's help. At least Samhain, unlike Halloween, was no party, but a somber celebration to honor the dead and Dis Pater, the God of the Underworld. All the ghosts of Hogwarts gathered in the Great Hall for the occasion, at their own table in the center of the room, and were served the same feast as everyone else, although theirs rotted in seconds on their table. Apparently, or so Hermione had said, this was needed so they could at least get a hint of taste from it. Harry wasn't in the mood to care.

According to legends, to kill someone on Samhain was both easier than on any other day, since the borders between the living and the dead were at their weakest that day, and far more dangerous, since Dis Pater watched more closely how people died, and would be punishing a murderer more swiftly and painfully. It certainly fit the events that cost Harry his parents, or so he thought - Voldemort was obliterated right after he had slain Harry's mother, minutes at most after James Potter had been murdered. Though as he knew, Voldemort had escaped death, and the betrayer of his parents, Wormtail, had escaped justice for 12 years, until Remus had caught him thanks to Sirius' letter, and the sniveling coward had been tried and executed for his crimes. Dis Pater certainly had not been paying attention in that case, Harry thought, a tad blasphemously.

Hermione and Ron were sitting next to him and across from him, respectively, less talkative than usual, even for the occasion. They knew about his thoughts on the day, and respected it. Unlike others, Harry thought with a frown when he spotted a unfortunately very familiar wizard approaching him. Draco Malfoy, with Goyle and Crabbe and his wanna-be wife Parkinson in tow. Hermione put her hand on his thigh, under the table and out of sight of the Slytherins, both to give him her support, and to keep him from making a scene.

"Greetings, Mister Potter." Malfoy gave him the barest nod, and didn't hide his sneer, but he observed the forms of polite society just enough to avoid getting called out on it. Not that Harry could do much even if Malfoy had crossed that line anyway - children, including students until they graduated, were judged far more leniently than adults - while Harry himself, as both a Patron and Head of Family, was expected to uphold the higher standards of those positions. A fact Malfoy had exploited a lot in the last few years.

"Mister Malfoy." Harry didn't even nod in response, just stared at the blond.

"I wanted to offer my condolences. Your parents died on this day, did they not?" Malfoy's smile belied his words and made his true opinion more than clear. Ron was about to stand up and prove the cliches about redheads and their temper true, but suddenly jerked and sat down, glaring at Hermione. The witch had likely kicked him under the table - her wand hand was still on Harry's thigh. Harry wanted to stand up and curse the ponce. Smash his teeth in until he couldn't sneer or smile anymore, but he controlled himself - with some help from Hermione, whose fingernails were now digging into his thighs, distracting him from his own rising temper.

"You have my thanks, as heartfelt as your own words, for this, Mister Malfoy. Please be assured that I will not forget this occasion, even if years should pass until I have the opportunity to repay you this kindness." Harry smiled - technically, Hagrid, more in tune with most animals, would have seen the baring of teeth for what it was - and saw with no small amount of satisfaction that Malfoy's own smile slipped, and some fear briefly flickered over his face.

The Slytherin nodded tersely at him and turned to return to his own table. No remarks about Hermione, no needling Ron - Harry counted this as a victory. A small one, but still a victory. He saw Parkinson already hanging on Malfoy's arm, now that he could be reasonably sure Harry wouldn't start hexing him, and subtly shook his head. That girl had less brains than she had taste, hanging all over Malfoy. It was a small miracle that she had not been caught so far in the backlash of one of Malfoy's failed schemes. Most thought she was after Malfoy's money, and was staking her claim early enough so the Year of Discovery wouldn't throw a wrench into her plans, but Hermione thought Parkinson honestly loved or at least lusted after Malfoy. She reasoned that the Parkinsons were rich as well, and Pansy had a good shot at becoming Head of her Family. If not for her demonstrated bad taste and bad judgement, she would be the one with suitors hanging all over her.

Harry didn't really care. He had enough responsibilities already to hold his attention, even with his godfather now exonerated and supporting him. Or because, on some days. That man was almost never serious enough.

Hermione withdrew her hand, and whispered "Sorry", just loud enough that he could hear it. He simply smiled at her, and she smiled back while Ron, calmed down, whistled. "Damn, Harry, that shook him. I bet he's dreading the time he graduates, once you can actually call him out."

Hermione glared at Ron, but didn't call him out on his language. To do so in public to a friend of her Patron would have been quite the faux pas. Still, there were publically acceptable ways to reply open to her. "Duels are illegal, Ron."

"That's a law no one enforces."

"Unless someone pays enough." Hermione really had become rather disenchanted with the judicial system of Wizarding Britain, Harry knew. She wasn't wrong, but as the Boy-Who-Lived, and godson of Sirius Black, he could be quite sure that no one would prosecute him for upholding his honor in the traditional way. Not that he planned to call out Malfoy as soon as they had finished their NEWTs. But sometimes he imagined it.

*****​

The day after Samhain was the traditional time the Triwizard Champions were selected by the Goblet of Fire. The oldest records claimed it was so the artifact could confer with the souls of the ancestors of the candidates, before it judged their progeny. Harry wasn't sure if that was true - Hermione thought it didn't make much sense, but he was of the opinion it might have made a lot of sense for people holding a wizard's lineage and blood in such high regard as those who had thought up such a tournament - especially one as bloody and deadly as the original one had been. Ron had said, flippantly, the Goblet simply had to make sure that there was enough room in the afterlife for the Champions who'd die.

The three were sitting at their usual spot, with a good view of the other tables. Hufflepuff was unchanged, but Slytherin's table had been expanded some, to seat the Durmstrang delegation. That wasn't a surprise - Slytherin was the only House at Hogwarts who was exclusively composed of purebloods, as was Durmstrang. The students from Beauxbatons were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, also expanded, though the reasons for that choice were not as evident. Maybe it was simply because of the House colors matching with Beauxbatons' blue? One never knew with wizards, after all.

Contact with the foreign students had been rarer than expected, at least for Harry and his friends. Some chatting while heading to the next class, some conversations in the library, nothing of consequence, barely above talking about the weather or asking to pass the salt at the table. Hopefully that would change after the Champions were chosen, when the tournament would start. Hermione had been itching for a chance to try out her translation charms, or practise her French.

He looked at the goblet - a large artifact, sitting on a pedestal in the center, before the staff table. Two aurors in red robes guarded it at all times, to make sure it wasn't tampered with - or stolen. In the past candidates simply dropped pieces of parchment with their name and stake in it, but these days, teachers vetted the entries, to make sure everyone participating had permission from their Head of Family, and that the stakes offered were actually valuable enough. One wouldn't want to get judged as a cheater, after all, by an artifact forged in times where capital punishment was the most common punishment.

While the names of candidates were supposed to be secret, the Hogwarts rumor mill was working as quickly as expected. Malfoy, for all his bragging, hadn't gotten permission from his father to enter. That had been a surprise, actually - the loss of face caused by this was far bigger than not getting chosen as Champion would have been. Harry himself had been asked several times if he planned to enter, but his explanation that he'd be foolish to enter his name as a 4th year to compete with 7th years had been accepted easily.

Dessert had been served and eaten, and the students were getting restless, the conversations louder. Dumbledore still took a bit of time, enjoying his own dessert, before he stood up. At a gesture the room quieted down, the lights dimmed and he walked over to the Goblet of Fire.

The artifact was filled with an eerie fire, which was far more visible now when it was providing most of the light in the Great Hall. The Headmaster pointed his wand at it, and after a brief pause the fire flared up, forming a pillar of blue flames, almost reaching the enchanted ceiling before breaking up into sparks and motes. The impressive display had many of the students gasp even before they realized that one of the sparks grew instead of fading, and floated down to the outstretched hand of Dumbledore, to form a piece of parchment. The first candidate had been chosen.

Dumbledore's voice filled the Great hall easily. Maybe a silent sonorous, or an enchantment of the Hall, Harry speculated. He could ask Hermione afterwards, if he really wanted to know. She'd either tell him, or research the question with 'Hogwarts: A History'. "Beauxbatons Champion is Fleur Delacour. Her stake is her grandmother's pendant."

Applause rose as the French Veela stood up. She slowly walked towards Dumbledore, a beaming smile on her face that certainly would break a few more hearts. Harry thought she looked relieved as she took her place next to Dumbledore. "That pendant must be a family heirloom. Likely very old, and heavily enchanted, or it wouldn't have passed muster." Hermione commented while the applause quieted down. Harry nodded in agreement.

Another pillar of fire shot to the ceiling. This time the audience was expecting it. "Durmstrang's Champion is Viktor Krum. His stake is his "Blitzschlag" broom."

Applause filled the room as the Star Seeker stood up. Ron was clapping frantically, "That's a custom made broom from Daedalus, a Prussian Broom Tuning firm. Even more expensive than your Firebolt, Mate." he explained as he sat down again, eyes alight with excitement. "I didn't think I'd ever see one, they came out right after the World Cup."

And the last pillar of fire rose. Harry followed the floating, growing spark as if it was a snitch. Hogwarts' Champion would be chosen now.

When Dumbledore hesitated just a second after the parchment had formed into his hand, Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. Something just went wrong, he knew it. The Headmaster was rarely surprised.

"Hogwarts' Champion is Harry Potter. His stake is his retainer, Hermione Granger."

Harry gasped. He turned his head towards Hermione. His best friend was staring at him, her expression frozen in shock and hurt. Her lips were moving without forming words. Meanwhile whispered conversations rapidly grew in volume until the Slytherin table started clapping, jeering even. Students from the other tables, at first a few, then then more, joined in. The noise drowned out his curse.

"Fuck."

*****​

Late that night Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, petting Fawkes. The phoenix trilled softly, in between attempts to groom his companion's beard. His song as well as his antics did soothe the Headmaster's mood, which had been thoroughly soured by the evening's events.

Harry Potter had been chosen as Hogwarts' Champion. Despite not having entered his name. Dumbledore believed the boys' claim - it had not been his handwriting on the parchment, he wouldn't have been able to pass a parchment through the seal on the goblet, only Dumbledore could open that, and Harry would never name Miss Granger as his stake. He was sure of that.

Harry Potter might have become the epitome of a pureblood wizard, following the old forms and manners better than some of Dumbledore's more conservative contemporaries, but he didn't consider Miss Granger beneath him, much less a piece of property to be wagered. Dumbledore had seen that himself. He wasn't proud of his spying on his students, but he had had to be sure Harry wouldn't abuse his power over the young witch.

The old wizard sighed. Young Harry certainly had not turned out as he had expected, being raised by his muggle family. Not that there had been any other option for Harry than his blood family, not by law, and not by need. The Blood Charms needed that connection to keep the boy safe. Lily herself had arranged that, for Harry and her family, in case she and James would die. That Harry wouldn't have grown up in the Magical World wouldn't have made her pause, or so Dumbledore thought - the bright young witch hadn't had the best opinion of the traditions of Wizarding Britain.

He should have visited the family himself, he thought. Openly, that is - but then, what could he have done? Telling the boy he was a wizard before he could understand how important secrecy was would not have been one of his smarter decisions. One couldn't trust children in the muggle world to keep such a secret. No, his hands had been bound there, even though the boy had grown up ignorant of his heritage. That he could have fixed himself easily enough, once the boy had returned to the Magical World. He'd even have started on that right after the Hogwarts letter, if not for Nicolas needing his help, rather urgently, that summer. Though, in hindsight again, he should have asked Minerva to teach the boy, no matter her stern manners. Or maybe Filius. He closed his eyes. He knew he should delegate more, but… old habits do not change easily. Nor did old people, and he was older than most. Minerva in particular had taken quite some time to come to terms with Harry and Miss Granger's decision not to heed his advice.

He had consoled himself with the thought that Harry's ignorance had also offered a unique opportunity. The hero who had saved Wizarding Britain, with dozens of books written about him, a celebrity on par with Dumbledore himself right after his victory over Grindelwald, could have made Wizarding Britain just a bit more liberal, a bit more open to muggleborns, and the wonders of the muggle world. Would have, could have - if not for that troll, and the life debt it had caused.

Miss Granger had been so afraid, so hasty, panicking even, and he hadn't managed to find the right words to placate her. Too much of a gap between an old wizard and a young muggleborn, he had realized after the fact. Or rather, he hadn't trusted her to understand his own thoughts, her being a mere child. And he had - vastly - overestimated her faith in authorities. Another mistake he had made. He still wasn't happy that the boy had become the girl's Patron. The responsibility he had had to shoulder… a single mistake, easily made by another child, could have ruined her and his life. Harry had managed, but the situation had forced him to grow up far quicker than a child should have had to. And it hadn't been needed, in his opinion.

Lucius Malfoy would have been unlikely to become Miss Granger's Patron, after Dumbledore would have explained to the man what kind of scrutiny this would bring from himself, and what risks due to the life debt. And even if… Lucius would have been unlikely to harm the child. The Head of the Malfoy Family was smart. Far smarter than his son, that Dumbledore was sure of. He would have had far more to gain by treating her well, by fulfilling society's expectations of a benevolent Patron. He would have improved his standing with the more liberal families as well as the conservative ones, would had gained more contacts, and the stain of his… past associations… would have been removed. Further, young Miss Granger would likely have proven quite a handful, judging from her life so far, maybe even enough to influence Draco into changing for the better.

Dumbledore sighed again. It was all moot now. With Voldemort back, in whatever form he might have taken, earlier than he had expected, the situation had changed. If anything, the events at the World Cup had shown that. Death Eaters openly wearing their masks again, attacking and killing people… The Ministry painted it as just some prank that went out of control, but Dumbledore suspected there was far more to it, but hadn't spoken out. Voldemort might have set that up to make him overextend himself, to raise his concerns about Voldemort's return in public, only to see the culprits caught and found ignorant of the Dark Lord. It wouldn't have been the first time Voldemort had used such a ploy, and it would have weakened Dumbledore's influence.

The old wizard was sure that the Goblet had been manipulated to choose Harry, by Voldemort or one of his followers. What he didn't know was the reason for this. Was it another attempt to kill Harry? Like the Basilisk had been? It might just be a feint, meant to draw his attention away from another plot. But even if it was, if he didn't pay enough attention, it could cost Harry his life - Voldemort might even be counting on him thinking it was a feint. What Dumbledore knew was that the Goblet had been manipulated in the Ministry. And that meant he couldn't trust the Ministry. Not after this and the Dementors the year before. That his own reputation suffered was another problem - even though it was the Ministry's fault, it had happened at Hogwarts, in his domain.

He had considered hiding the fact that Harry had been entered against his will. It would have avoided some of those problems, but ultimately, would have caused far more problems than it would have solved. Honesty was a good policy, after all, in most cases. And it wouldn't do to undermine Harry's relationship with his friends, and especially Miss Granger. The boy needed all the support he could get.


Chapter 4: The First Task: Fire

 

[DeAnno]

I am a little unsure of the validity of actually tricking the Goblet in a more serious setting like this. Assuming Harry's actions are really bound by the thing, that opens a lot of ground for stupid loopholes (forced magical oaths, magical oath attacks, etc) of a similar nature to flourish.

 

[skaro]

Ha the trap of all magical binding,if without consent but magical can enforce,Why don't use that on magic legal system?.

I will give it a pass as Goblet of fire is item of legend that can not create easily.

 

[macdjord]

I am a little unsure of the validity of actually tricking the Goblet in a more serious setting like this. Assuming Harry's actions are really bound by the thing, that opens a lot of ground for stupid loopholes (forced magical oaths, magical oath attacks, etc) of a similar nature to flourish.

Click to shrink...

My solution there is to assume that, when Dumbledore says in canon that Harry's name coming out of the Goblet makes for a binding magical contract, he doesn't mean a contract 'enforced by magic itself', like the Unbreakable Vow - he just means that the Goblet will magically enforce the contract of the Triwizard Tournament upon Harry, and the fact that the contract isn't invalid won't stop it. So, you can't actually force someone into a valid, binding magical contract against their will - but you can try to bamboozle one of the various magical contract enforcement methods into thinking they have done so. Fortunately, with the exception of rare and powerful artifacts like the Goblet, all the enforcement methods which are powerful enough to be useful require the active participation of the subject (e.g. Unbreakable Vows). Which doesn't make them impossible to abuse, but does make it quite a bit harder.

 

[Starfox5]

I am a little unsure of the validity of actually tricking the Goblet in a more serious setting like this. Assuming Harry's actions are really bound by the thing, that opens a lot of ground for stupid loopholes (forced magical oaths, magical oath attacks, etc) of a similar nature to flourish.

Click to shrink...

My solution there is to assume that, when Dumbledore says in canon that Harry's name coming out of the Goblet makes for a binding magical contract, he doesn't mean a contract 'enforced by magic itself', like the Unbreakable Vow - he just means that the Goblet will magically enforce the contract of the Triwizard Tournament upon Harry, and the fact that the contract isn't invalid won't stop it. So, you can't actually force someone into a valid, binding magical contract against their will - but you can try to bamboozle one of the various magical contract enforcement methods into thinking they have done so. Fortunately, with the exception of rare and powerful artifacts like the Goblet, all the enforcement methods which are powerful enough to be useful require the active participation of the subject (e.g. Unbreakable Vows). Which doesn't make them impossible to abuse, but does make it quite a bit harder.

Click to shrink...

In this story, the Goblet of Fire is a unique artifact, and limited in purpose to choose the champions and then ensuring champions don't back out of the tournament or try to wheedle out of paying their dues (aka, their stakes). Back when it was created, people cheating in the tournament (sending in polyjuiced ringers, manipulating the stakes, etc.) was a concern. What works with the goblet won't work with magical contracts since the goblet is not a magical contract nor does it use one, it simply has a similar result if its rules are broken. The closest analogue wouldn't be a magical vow, but a curse with a condition ("Unless you do this, you will be cursed"). The goblet doesn't care about who entered the names, and how willing they are. Back when it was forged, that was not much of a concern, with Heads of Families having far more power over their children. (Legally, they still have almost as much power, but custom limits their power more than law).

The Goblet's "Hold" could be broken, like other curses, but it would require a lot of work and presumably time as well and would be dangerous. Since the current version of the Tournament is not more lethal than professional (or in some games, amateur) Quidditch, it's easier and less dangerous to simply let Harry do the tasks. Or would, if not for Voldemort.

With regards to magical contracts and oaths, those are not a common thing in this story, and limited to rituals and quasi-rituals, like the Patron Oath. Far harder, if not impossible, to mess with those - one would need to use indirect means, like blackmail and similar tactics, to force someone into one, since they check for magical compulsion or fraud. And when you have enough leverage to force someone into a magical contract, you generally have enough leverage to force them into doing whatever the contract would force them to do anyway, and the contract is just an additional step.

 

[aguy]

Interesting choice on the direction of the story. I really liked the blessing to the Gods, by the way. Opening with a blessing to Janus first is very appropriate, especially for the start of term. Hecate, obviously due to the influence of magic within the society, might be included.

I've forgotten a lot that I used to know about Roman history and Latin Customs, so I can't quite put my finger on it, but the blessing feels a bit unorthodox. That said, cultural drift over the millenia could easily account for it.

 

[Starfox5]

Interesting choice on the direction of the story. I really liked the blessing to the Gods, by the way. Opening with a blessing to Janus first is very appropriate, especially for the start of term. Hecate, obviously due to the influence of magic within the society, might be included.

I've forgotten a lot that I used to know about Roman history and Latin Customs, so I can't quite put my finger on it, but the blessing feels a bit unorthodox. That said, cultural drift over the millenia could easily account for it.

Click to shrink...

Hecate is the second goddess called upon in the ceremony, followed by Apollo, to adhere to the rule of three.

The wizards "went back to the old gods" during the christian Witch Hunts, but there are not many truly faithful, and the doctrines changed in the thousand years between, and the centuries since, so what the Romans believed would be likely adapted and changed a lot by wizards.

I didn't think it would be logical for wizards to have modern and even christian holidays, being even more isolated from muggles than in canon.

 

[steamrick]

Was the opening ceremony inspired by Percy Jackson?

 

[Starfox5]

Was the opening ceremony inspired by Percy Jackson?

Click to shrink...

No. I simply picked gods I felt fit the goals of such a ceremony - a productive, safe year for learning magic.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 4: The First Task: Fire

Hermione walked through the dark hallways of Hogwarts. She wasn't headed towards the Gryffindor dorms despite the late hour - it was well past curfew. She was going to the east wing, where the unused storage and classrooms were. The young witch needed to vent. She was so angry she was afraid she'd have an episode of accidental magic soon. A destructive episode. She had kept it together during the evening, supporting Harry while things had been sorted out - to a point - with the Headmaster and the Tournament officials. Been helpful, respectful, thoughtful. Even got to quote a few rules. The dutiful retainer. She had pushed her anger away, focused on playing her role. But it hadn't gone away. Fueled by the memories of the sneers and mocking cheers from Malfoy and other students who resented her, Harry or both of them, it had simmered all evening.

And now it was boiling over, turning into rage. She had been named as Harry's stake in this barbaric tournament! And the goblet had confirmed it! She had wanted to destroy it, right then and there. No matter that it was a priceless artifact. No matter the spells on it. No matter that it had been used for this tournament for hundreds of years. She was not a thing! She wasn't like a broom or a family heirloom! No matter what a piece of copper forged by barbarians in a time when slavery was still legal said! She was a witch, equal to the every pureblood or half-blood witch - more skilled even, than most!

Hermione all but kicked the door open to "her" room - a former classroom, now her unofficial training room - only her own spells on the door holding her back. She really needed to destroy something. Preferably a cauldron or goblet, but she lacked either in this room. Snarling, she lifted her wand, and slammed the door closed, trusting the spells on it to muffle the sound outside. Then she reduced a few of the desks she didn't use, standing in a row at the back wall, to kindling with a series of reductos. It didn't help much. Too easy.

"Reductincendo!" The next desk was turned into burning splinter that started fires all around it. For a moment she was tempted to let it burn, let it all burn. Then reason took over and she used an aguamenti to extinguish the flames. She needed the room, after all. It took a while, and tired her out some.

Sighing she sat down on a desk in the center, barely singed, and started repairing what she had destroyed. Chain casting reparo helped her calm down. It also made her think of a repair spell that wasn't limited to one object. Or an aguamenti that did not create the water at the tip of a wand. And a spell that combined the effects of incendo and reducto. She knew she could create those spells - if she had the time to spend on such pursuits. But spells for her and Harry's robes, for security and status, had a higher priority. And of course she had spent a lot of time learning the Patronus Charm. That had been a matter of pride - she didn't want to lag behind Harry.

Harry… Hermione felt her torc grow a bit warmer, and knew he was close. She closed her eyes. It wasn't his fault, she knew that. And she didn't blame him for the situation they found themselves in either. But she didn't know if this was because she knew he was not to blame, or because of the Patron Oath.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Her Patron was outside. She pointed her wand, and unlocked the door, then opened it with a flick. Her friend stepped inside and closed the door. For a moment they looked at each other, Hermione still sitting on the desk, Harry standing at the door. Then he walked over and sat down next to her. Hunched over, eyes on the floor. She knew that pose, although she hadn't seen it much, lately. He felt guilty.

The witch reached over and slung her right arm around his shoulders, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulders. The enchanted silk felt smooth and warm on her cheek. Comforting. "It's not your fault." she said before he could start. "It's the fault of whoever manipulated that stupid goblet, and whoever thought of that bloody tournament in the first place."

Harry was silent for a bit, but wrapped his arm around her waist. "But I can refu…"

"No, you can't!" Hermione cut him off and snapped her head up to stare at him. "If you refuse to honor the stakes you'll lose your magic. It's not wo..."

This time Harry cut her off. "You are worth it." Hermione felt both happy and afraid at hearing that, at seeing his face when he said it. He meant it, and yet he was wrong.

She shook her head, fighting back tears. "It wouldn't help. If you lose your magic, and someone else will become my Patron anyway. Same result. You'd sacrifice your magic - your life - for nothing. Besides, it's tradition to ransom the stakes back to the losing Champions. Whoever wins would not break tradition." Or so she hoped - a few Champions had done so, in the past.

Harry closed his eyes, and she used the opportunity to quickly wipe her own eyes. He spoke in a whisper, trembling with emotion. "But… you'd be safe from… "

"Safe from getting a test ride, you mean?" Her plain, crude words shocked him into staring at her, and she started to blush. Now she was looking away. "I think there's no danger of that happening. I am no broom, the goblet's opinion notwithstanding. I am rather sure such a thing would not be tolerated. The Headmaster was clear that the times have changed since the goblet was created."

Harry remained silent. Glancing at him, she realized he didn't look like he was sharing her opinion. She swallowed. "Harry...?"

He closed his eyes again. "Sirius told me … " he paused, taking a deep breath, then went on, "He told me that there were rumors. At least in his time. Of Patrons... abusing their power. And what we hear of Durmstrang, and purebloods there..."

Hermione drew in a hissing breath. "Just rumors." Harry nodded, somewhat reluctantly. The witch clenched her fist, anger rising again. She fought it down. Fought to remain calm. It wasn't Harry's fault. "Even so I think Fleur will not try … that… and Krum… he's got a reputation to consider, as a Quidditch star." She patted his shoulder. She really needed to have a talk with Sirius about those lessons though.

Harry nodded. "You're right. But Malfoy and others will use this to needle us."

Hermione scoffed. "He's nothing to worry about. Not with someone trying to kill you. Which is another reason you can't risk your magic for me, you hear me?" She glared at him until he smiled ruefully.

"The Headmaster didn't name names when he explained how the goblet had been manipulated, but I think we know who's behind this. The only one with both the motive and the power for it."

Hermione agreed. "Voldemort."

"Voldemort." Harry leaned back until he was lying on the desk, legs dangling, eyes staring at the ceiling. "That monster keeps coming back from death. Three times so far."

Hermione followed his example, then, impulsively, used her wand to turn the ceiling into a clear nightsky full of stars. A static imitation of the ceiling in the Great Hall. "At least everyone knows that someone manipulated the goblet and wants to harm you. Malfoy will claim that you cheated, but only idiots will believe him."

"Moody will be taking charge of the security."

"Good." Moody was paranoid, but paranoia was exactly what they needed right now. Or so Hermione thought. She felt a sudden urge to hurt, to kill whoever was after Harry, and once again wondered if it was her own feelings, or the result of the Oath. She'd do it anyway.

They remained like that for a bit, staring at the artificial sky until it faded.

"We should head to the dorm. They'll still be waiting for us." Hermione sat up, but Harry caught her hand, and gently pulled her back down.

"Let's stay a bit longer like this. Ron will understand and can handle the others."

Hermione didn't answer, but cast the illusion on the ceiling again.

*****​

The day after the Choosing of the Champions started as Harry had expected. His own House, not surprisingly, was supporting their celebrity and star seeker. When he and Hermione had finally entered the Gryffindor dorms, well past midnight, all the other students in the house had all still been up and waiting. Even the first years. Harry had suspected someone had dealt out Pepper-Up potions, and Hermione had muttered that the quality of Prefects had gone down a lot with Percy's graduation, but that had not changed the fact that Harry had had to explain what had happened, in detail.

As a result the Gryffindors were quite tired the next day. Harry and Hermione took some Pepper-Up potions from Harry's private stash and used cosmetic spells extensively to portray an immaculate facade in public. Ron had given it a pass, stating he'd sleep in History. Hermione's reaction to that statement had made Harry smile - he needed that kind of familiar, light-hearted banter right now. Of course a number of the older students regularly took similar measures - those in their 7th year usually after study sessions that robbed them of their sleep, those in their Year of Discovery for other but similarly tiring reasons. Harry wasn't sure if the majority of this year's Quidditch Team had slept at all in the first week of the term. That reminded him that he couldn't fly for Gryffindor this year, another result of being a Triwizard Tournament Champion, and he lost his smile.

In the Great Hall, Harry could see the Hogwarts rumor mill at work, spreading what he told the other Gryffindors last night to the rest of the school. Padma must have waited for her sister Parvati right at the door, and gotten the news straight from her, judging by the way half the Ravenclaw table and several students from Slytherin were clustered around her. Lavender Brown was chatting with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot, with most of the other 'Puffs listening in openly. The Slytherin table acted aloof, but the students there were already eyeing the Slytherins at the Ravenclaw table with impatience.

Luna and Aicha were on their way towards the Gryffindor table as soon as he, Hermione and Ron had entered. The blonde witch was carrying her oversized notebook and enchanted fountain pen - she was after a story for her father's magazine. Harry caught Hermione's scowl at the sight, and smiled again. That the Lovegood family's well-known eccentricity and long pureblood ancestry allowed Luna to use the pen and notebook without receiving the sneers Hermione would get for using them had irked his friend ever since she had introduced the things to Luna back in their second year. Though to be honest, people still sneered at Luna for being eccentric.

"Harry! Hermione!" Luna greeted them from several meters away, as cheerful as ever. She waved with her notebook since her other arm was linked with Aicha's, who nodded in greeting. Without waiting for an invitation - which technically wasn't needed since no one had yet taken a seat - she headed to Harry's usual spot at the end of the table, dragging the Arabian witch with her. Harry, Hermione and Ron followed, smiling. It was hard to keep a bad mood around the exuberant blonde Ravenclaw.

They had barely taken their seats next to Neville, who had arrived a few minutes before them, and started breakfast when the questions began.

"There are rumors that the Goblet of Fire was manipulated and you have been chosen despite not having entered your name. Is that true?" Luna was munching on a scone and commanding the pot with the hot chocolate to float over to her with a wriggle of her fingers while her enchanted pen wrote down her question.

Harry waited until Hermione had cast a spell to grant them some privacy before answering. "That is correct. I was surprised to hear my name announced, and shocked that whoever did enter me had the gall and perfidity to name Hermione as my stake. She's not a thing to be put up for a wager like a broom or necklace." He'd have liked to add "and my best friend", but that would not have been proper, and he and Hermione needed all the good publicity they could get in their situation. Hermione had already written to Rita Skeeter to arrange for an interview during the next Hogsmeade weekend.

"And who do you think is responsible for this?" Luna stared at him while buttering up another scone. Hermione was finishing a more healthy fruit while Ron was going through a pair of sausages and eggs and black pudding with the appetite of a growing boy. Harry himself had stuck to pumpkin juice so far, or rather, the orange juice he had color changed to look like pumpkin juice. Hermione had come up with that idea in their second year, to allow them to drink orange juice without offending the more traditional wizards and witches. Aicha was eating scones but drinking tea - in the style of her family's homeland, so sweet that Luna was the only other one to drink it more than once. Though rumors claimed the Headmaster liked it as well. Neville was following Ron's example, in his selection, if not in the amount of food he ate.

Harry sighed. He didn't like to lie to his friends, but claiming it was Voldemort would have consequences neither he nor Dumbledore could afford right now. At least Ron knew the truth. "I do not know. I hope it's just a tasteless prank, but Headmaster Dumbledore suspects there is someone nefarious behind it, and has increased the security for the Tournament. Retired Master Auror Moody has volunteered to help."

"Oh! That's great news! Moody is so perceptive, I am sure he'll be able to see nargles if he tunes his eye just right!" And there went the interview, Harry thought. He consoled himself with the thought that the article Luna would be writing would be at least interesting and filled with things he did not know before.

While Luna started to tell about her latest nargle sightings - they were centered on Draco Malfoy, but avoiding Pansy, or so Harry understood - he was looking around in the Great Hall. A number of students looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. Others met his eyes, with a smile or a sneer. He smiled in return, friendly and not.

The staff table was no exception. Snape was sneering and glaring at him. As was to be expected. Dumbledore had set the professor straight in Harry's first year, after he had lost his temper and attempted to hex Harry. That had been right after Harry had become Hermione's Patron. But while the professor had not actually cursed Harry since then he hadn't even tried to hide his hatred. Snape always seemed to think the worst of Harry, going as far as to threaten Harry with emasculation should he force himself on Hermione. That would have sounded oddly protective of a muggleborn for the pureblood Head of House Slytherin, if Snape had not worded it in a way that made it clear he had no doubt Harry would do exactly that sooner or later.

Sirius, who had gone to Hogwarts with Snape, had had a number of things to say about the Potion Master, and none of it friendly or positive. From what Harry had heard, there had been a veritable blood-feud between Harry's father and Snape - or would have been, if Snape's pureblood parentage had been revealed before his graduation. Thought a half-blood during his time in school, he hadn't had the status to stand up to purebloods, much less the scion of the Black family and his best friend. Of course, students were not supposed to be stating blood feuds, but… that was more of a guideline than a law. How Harry's mother had been involved in that mess he wasn't sure even after several talks, but Snape being jealous of James Potter because of Lily Evans was a creepy thought he'd rather not pursue. Though he'd like to hear a bit more about his mother than "she was brilliant, but scary, and had a temper like a redhead." When he started to ask for more details, Sirius had told him how he once had enchanted the mirrors in the baths of the Gryffindor girls' dorm to peep on the girls, and what he had seen of Lily Evans then. That had stopped Harry from asking further questions. Maybe if he asked with Hermione present next time… but if that didn't deter Sirius, then the results wouldn't be pretty, given Hermione's temper.

*****​

Ron Weasley was looking around while Luna was asking Harry questions he already had the answers for. He almost frowned at seeing Harry being the center of attention, again. Triwizard Tournament Champion, without having entered his own name - another feather in the cap of the Boy-Who-lived. Ron would have likely been more than slightly jealous if he hadn't known what was behind this: Another plot by Voldemort. The thought of the Dark Lord plotting his friend's death drove such petty thoughts away. They'd return, he knew that, but he also knew he wouldn't let petty jealousy dictate his actions. He had stood with Harry against a troll as a first year, against a basilisk and Voldemort himself as a second year, he had been ready to stand against an escaped mass murderer in his third year. He'd certainly not abandon his friend in their fourth year. He was a brave Gryffindor, not some slimy Slytherin.

Ron was cutting his sausages into bite-sized pieces with the speed his appetite demanded, and the precision his manners, drilled into him by his mother since his early childhood, allowed. The Weasleys were not a rich family, but Molly Weasley made sure they knew how to act in polite society, especially during the - sadly rather few - dinner invitations the family received. Not that that could be helped, given the amount of dinner invitations they could extend themselves. Unlike other, richer families, the Weasleys couldn't afford the expensive entertainment that was part and parcel of dinner invitations from Wizards, and Molly's cooking, unrivaled in Ron's opinion and experience, the twin's clever spells and Arthur's extensive collection of muggle curiosa could only go so far in making up for that. They still had enough friends, even rich ones, who invited them, and as importantly, who could be invited to the Weasleys in return without taking offense. The Weasleys were not social pariahs or the kind of dinner entertainment the Lovegoods were perceived as in some circles.

Ron had known that for years now, which didn't mean he liked it. None of the Weasleys liked it, and all of them were determined to change their family's fortunes. Arthur would have managed that already, being Head of a Department at the Ministry for Magic, if he hadn't had to pay for seven children going to Hogwarts. All of them knew that as well, even if no one ever talked about that. But it was the reason Bill was a curse-breaker and Charlie was a Dragon Handler in Romania - both very dangerous professions, but also ones that paid very well. Percy had already started at the Ministry, after being Head Boy at Hogwarts, and the twins were planning their own joke shop, with Arthur's, if not Molly's full support. And Ron had made a name and a small fortune for himself already as a Basilisk Slayer. Of course, if the Ministry had finally paid out the compensation for the beast's carcass, he'd be really set. And Ginny… Ginny was another topic the Weasleys didn't talk about much.

The girl had, finally, started to change back into the feisty witch with a fiery temper she had been before her first year at Hogwarts. Before Voldemort tried to possess her. Had possessed her. She still had a way to go to return to normal.

Ron waved his wand, and another sausage floated down to land on his plate while his glass refilled with fresh pumpkin juice. Ginny also seemed to be interested in Harry as a boyfriend, again, or still. Ron wasn't sure what to think about that. He preferred not to. Think about it, that was. Ginny was still not back to normal, in his opinion - he hadn't been hit by a bat-bogey-hex in months - and Harry was…

He drank some juice, and ate half a sausage, and more pudding. Harry was the youngest seeker in a century. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. And he was the youngest Patron in centuries. Maybe ever. His best friend. And he had been raised like a true muggleborn. Like Hermione. His other best friend. Ron knew he wasn't the best friend of either of them. But in this case, second best meant a lot, given how close those two were. Any witch who married Harry would have to live with Hermione. Any wizard who married Hermione would have to contend with Harry.

Another thing he didn't want to think about. Not that it would matter much to him, personally. He liked Hermione. He might even like her as more than a friend, but they would have no future. She was a muggleborn, he was a pureblood, they couldn't marry. He'd certainly not live in concubinage with a muggleborn witch, any children they'd have would be muggleborns, unable to inherit much, and without many prospects. His mother had raised him better than that.

Ron suppressed a sigh. Even him and Hermione doing some "exploring" together during their 6th year was a rather unlikely prospect. She was a true muggleborn, and as his father had explained to him, they didn't see things the same when it came to sex. They were more uptight. They'd expect more than some fun times in bed, more than Ron could or would offer.

Ron hoped Harry would have overcome that way of thinking thanks to Sirius by the time their Year of Exploration started. Two Basilisk Slayers would have the pick of the girls at Hogwarts. Maybe the Patil twins, together… but there would be Hermione too, at Harry's side. She'd be hurt... Ron shelved those thoughts and focused on his breakfast. Hopefully things would work themselves out before their 6th year.

*****​

"Look at Potter, still eating with Weasley and the mudblood. And to think last night I had hoped he had finally decided to put the mudblood in her proper place!" Draco angrily commented. He took a sip from his pumpkin juice then put the glass down with such force the sweet juice swapped over his hand. Pansy quickly vanished the splashed juice with her wand and kept from rolling her eyes at Draco's antics. Only a fool would have ever believed Potter would have put his retainer up as stakes for the tournament, so naturally, Draco had thought so.

"Not that the tournament is anything but a disgrace already, with the French witch a veela! Truly, Magical France has sunk lower even than I expected if that mongrel is the best their school can offer." Draco scoffed and sneered, but it didn't look like either Potter nor Delacour noticed. Pansy smiled - not at his words, but at the thought that Draco apparently still hadn't heard the rumor that Malfoy family had veela ancestry. Close veela ancestry. And no one knew Pansy had started it a few weeks ago, when she had praised Draco's grace and beauty, and remarked on his French ancestry. With Fleur having made such an impression upon her arrival, it hadn't taken long for those rumors to start up. Pansy just hoped she'd be around when he heard it - she was curious how he'd react.

Taking a sip from her own juice, she glanced around. Greengrass, fresh from talking with Davis, who had returned from the Ravenclaw table where Patil had filled them in about the news from Gryffindor, was staring at Potter with a faint smile on her face. Did the blonde witch fancy Potter? Pansy would have to stop that. It wouldn't do for the blonde to get a better boyfriend than Pansy had. Not that it was likely that Greengrass would be able to charm the Boy-Who-Lived anyway. She had insulted Granger a bit too often, and Potter carried grudges. Cho Chang was a good example for that. Potter hadn't forgotten what the Chinese pureblood had done to Lovegood in Pansy's second year, after Lovegood had proved her wrong about some magical animal or other. It seemed Ravenclaws took such matters more seriously than Slytherins took their ancestry.

Pansy was about to assure Draco that Potter would stand no chance against Viktor Krum - and at the same time make her boyfriend jealous of that Quidditch star - when Dumbledore stood up for an announcement about the events of the last evening. She, like all the students, fell silent. They already knew what had happened, but it was always a good idea to listen to the official word on such matters. And he was Dumbledore of course. One did listen to him.

The Headmaster did explain that Potter had been entered in the Tournament against his will, and that while a prank was a possibility, they would take measures to ensure the safety of all participants. Many at the Slytherin table showed as much mirth at those revelations as was possible and still within the borders of politeness, but privately Pansy was concerned. Someone who could manipulate an artifact like the Goblet of Fire must be powerful, and might not care about bystanders when he or she went after Potter. Staying near the Boy-Who-Lived would be hazardous. Which of course meant that her idiot boyfriend would try to hound Potter as much as possible, given his past behaviour when faced with danger.

*****​

The following days brought little relief for Hermione's temper. A number of students, mostly but not exclusively Slytherins, were discussing broom and jewelry prices whenever she was nearby - a subtle but effective way to insult her without giving her Patron any cause to be offended. She didn't know who started it. It was too subtle and too effective for Malfoy, which ruled out his cronies and girlfriend too. That only left most of House Slytherin and half of Ravenclaw, though Aicha didn't think anyone from her House had started it. Luna claimed that it was someone who repelled more nargles than one would expect, which of course made no sense at all.

And it wasn't the full moon either, so she couldn't even let off steam by hexing some of those students in Moody's practical lessons which happened when Remus was indisposed. Not that showing what she had learned during the summer and now was capable of would be smart; not with the duelling competition coming up. But it would feel so good to hex some of those bullies! If they'd threaten Harry she could even curse them freely - retainers were allowed to raise their wands against anyone in defense of their Patron, even if their targets were half-bloods or purebloods, which custom usually prohibited muggleborns from casting at unless attacked first.

She was walking with Harry into the Great Hall when she heard a familiar and hated voice. "Ah, Mister Potter. I wish you the best for the tournament." Malfoy. She saw Harry tense up - he hadn't taken the bullying well either, and stepped a bit closer, the best she could do to support him in public, where touching would be improper.

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy." Harry's voice was so cold, it could have frozen fiendfyre. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, but Hermione saw Parkinson wince a tiny bit.

"It goes without saying that I am very pleased that you have chosen to uphold our oldest traditions with your stake in the tournament." Malfoy smiled at Harry, then glanced at Hermione. The witch kept her face expressionless, but it took some effort.

Harry cocked his head sideways. "Thank you. That is too kind of you. Although, since I did not choose my stake in this myself, nor ever intended to, I have to admit you have me at a disadvantage. What kind of traditions do you mean?"

Malfoy floundered, and Hermione almost smiled. The bigot couldn't explicitly claim slavery was a tradition to be valued. "Ah… your intention to go honor the conditions set by the goblet, despite not having chosen them yourself." A weak attempt at recovery, even for Malfoy.

"I can't imagine anyone who would rather lose their magic than their gold, but apparently you would find such a decision a difficult one, and worthy of note. Peculiar, Mister Malfoy, but not entirely unexpected." Malfoy gaped, trembling with rage as he realized the insult he had just been dealt, and for a second Hermione thought he was about to draw his wand. Her own was just a flick of her wrist away from sliding into her hand, but the moment passed as Malfoy kept his temper under control, even though it looked like he might suffer a stroke from the effort. Hermione had to fight from giggling in a rather undignified manner as she and Harry left the fuming Slytherin and walked to their table.

*****​

One good thing the tournament had caused was, in Harry's opinion, the opportunity to continue his lessons with Sirius and Remus, and now Moody, in preparation for the first task. Their lessons, now, he corrected himself with a glance to Hermione and Ron. Knowing that Voldemort was back, again, meant his friends would stick close to him. Not that anyone would try, much less succeed in keeping them away anyway.

Remus was showing them the flame-freezing charm. The first of the four tasks would have a fire theme, so learning that spell, or mastering it, was a priority. Hermione was already planning to enchant his robes with a variant of the spell, but Harry wasn't sure she'd manage to do that in time for the task. "Now, the spell is easy, but hitting fire and flames that are moving can be hard." Remus explained, and he and Sirius created floating motes of flame in the former duelling chamber they were using for the training. "Try to hit them before they reach you. The flames won't hurt you, of course, but they'll mark you if not frozen. Your goal is to avoid getting burned."

The three students raised their wands, and the dozens of floating fires shot at them, some straight, some in wild turns, others seemed to attempt to circle around them. Harry took care of the closest, fastest first. His spell hit, rendering it harmless even though it didn't actually freeze it or stop it from moving, and he quickly switched targets. Another fire was rendered harmless, and then another. He had to dodge a fast one, missing it with his next spell, but hitting another sneaking up on him from below. Then suddenly the ground was on fire, and and while he tried to freeze those flames he was hit multiple times from behind, each spark acting like a stinging hex. Judging by the yelps from Ron and hermione, they too had been had. Then the exercise ended.

Sirius smirked while Remus smiled encouragingly, unaffected by their glares. "As you can see, the charm is not that effective when used against moving targets, such as fire elementals or animals with a flame aura. Against fire-breathing animals, it's useless. Harry saw Hermione mumble something. She was likely trying to work out how to adapt the spell to remove that weakness. He raised his hand out of habit.

"Yes Harry?"

"As far as I know I'll have to face such animals in the first task." Hermione had researched the tournament thoroughly, and the Fire task usually dealt with fending off or defeating such opponents. Often while surrounded by fire, or enchanted lava.

"Yes. But you are likely to have to deal with enchanted fires as well, and for those the flame-freezing charm works very well. Much better and quicker than aguamenti, for example. You'll learn a protection spell as well, after the bubblehead charm." That spell would be needed to breathe while surrounded by smoke, and would help with the next task as well. Almost all tasks involving water involved some amount of time spent in and under it, after all.

"Remember: The tasks are as safe as we can make them, but there's still a slight risk." A bigger risk, with Voldemort meddling with the tasks. The goblet's power prevented the tasks from being altered too much as well. Harry couldn't help but being nervous. The uncertainty was not helping either - it was likely that Voldemort would make his attempt during one of the four tasks, but the dark Lord might have other plans as well. Moody's attitude started to sound rather appealing to Harry these days.

Then they had to dodge and freeze the flames again. And failed again. And again. Not even working together and covering each other's blind spots - which was not the goal of the training anyway, since Harry would compete alone - helped that much. Those flames stung, and Sirius' cackling laughter whenever he heard them yell didn't help either. Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione, then nodded towards Sirius. She nodded, understanding his intent. Ron took a bit longer, but not much, to understand.

Then the flames flew at them again, but instead of casting the flame-freezing charm, Harry sent a stinging hex at Remus, followed by Ron's body-binding hex. He saw the eyes of his teacher widen in surprise right before the spells hit and and Remus toppled over. Sirius was already trussed up in conjured ropes courtesy of Hermione, and judging from his complaints, she had added a few stinging hexes for good measure. With the two controllers out, the flames had actually frozen in mid-flight.

Grinning, Harry pointed this out. "All flames were prevented from burning us." The glares he got in return made him grin wider.

*****​

After the lesson, Harry and Sirius sat together on conjured chairs in a small alcove in the room, which originally had been meant for the judges' table. Ron had gone off to get a snack and Hermione was badgering Remus with questions about the spells she planned to adapt. Harry's godfather pulled two bottles of butterbeer out of his mokeskin pocket and handed one to him.

"How are you doing?" Sirius took a pull from his own bottle, but his eyes didn't leave Harry.

"I am doing ok." Sirius narrowed his eyes a bit, and Harry amended "Given the circumstances."

"No nightmares? No urge to kill nuisances? No desire to drink fire whiskey?"

"No." Harry realized Sirius was going through his own symptoms. He didn't mention that though - Sirius had a new goal to focus on, keeping Harry alive, and he was doing better. Prying or prodding his godfather wouldn't help anyone.

"Still an eye for the witches?" Sirius grinned while Harry gave him a flat stare. "Lighten up, Harry. You're handsome, if not as handsome as I am, you're a Triwizard Champion, and you're famous. Witches will flock to you even before the Year of Discovery." The older wizard glanced over at Hermione, still deep in a discussion with Remus. "You should be preparing for that as well. I am sure Hermione would agree with me. She might even help you."

"I am sure she would hex your bits off for asking that." Or his.

"That's why you should ask. Safer."

Harry snorted, to hide his growing unease. That wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss. With anyone. Least of all Hermione herself. "How are you doing?"

Turning the tables was a cheap shot, but effective. Sirius gave some evasive answers, and both drank the rest of their butterbeers in silence.

*****​

Viktor Krum was an imposing sight, even up close, and away from his broom, Harry thought. Tall, muscular - unlike most professional seekers - but quick on his feet. Not very talkative, but that could just be the occasion. Dumbledore had called the other two Champions and their Headmaster and Headmistress to his office to discuss security for the upcoming first task. Moody was there as well, standing in a corner, his dark cloak almost melding with the shadows if one did not pay enough attention. He was staring at Karkaroff as if he was just a second away from cursing the man to death. That was likely the case, Harry realized, since Karkaroff was a former Death Eater.

Strangely though Harry felt reassured by this - he was sure that if Karkaroff was a threat to him Moody would have already taken care of the wizard in the ruthless manner he was famous and infamous for. Karkaroff himself looked nervous, almost trembling in his the fur-lined red robes, but that was normal for anyone Moody glared at with his artificial eye.

Harry snuck a glance at Fleur Delacour. The veela was as beautiful and perfect as she had appeared each day, clad in her ethereal blue silk robe which seemed to float around her rather than be worn. He had trouble imagining the French witch covered with sweat, soot, and dust after a training lesson, brushing a lock of her unruly brown hair back behind her ear… Harry blinked. The French Champion was blonde. It must be the unusual absence of Hermione, who was near him almost constantly, that had caused that slip.

He briefly looked over at Olympe Maxime. Sitting next to Fleur, she looked smaller than he remembered her. Maybe some enchantment - he had heard from Hagrid that she didn't like to stand out too much, even though she was not as self-conscious about her ancestry as she had been before she had met Hogwarts' half-giant teacher. Of course her robe was splendid, fitting the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, but more sturdy-looking than Fleur's ensemble, which gave the impression that a strong gust of wind would blow it away, exposing the witch. Harry clamped down on that thought as well, and silently cursed Sirius for telling him about the spell the Marauders had created once that did exactly that.

"Now that we are all here, let me inform you about the security measures taken for the first task." Dumbledore sounded calm and serious, lacking the hint of humor usually present in his voice. "We have done what we could under the constraints of the Goblet. I cannot go into too much detail regarding the task itself, but I have personally checked the enchantments in the arena that safeguard the Champions, and will do so on the day of the task again. Alastor will make sure the staff members and everyone connected to the tournament are safe before they can get on the grounds. We have acquired - at great cost, I note - a Thief's Downfall for this from Gringotts. While we cannot interfere directly during the task, each Champion will receive a potion that will disable him or her if ingested, and then turn into a portkey to our infirmary. That way the Goblet will note them as incapacitated, and allow them to be withdrawn from the field without punishing them." Theoretically. No one really knew what the goblet would be doing, after all it had been manipulated already. But it beat dying. Harry still resolved not to use the potion and he thought his fellow Champions didn't plan on using theirs either.

Dumbledore detailed a few more security measures taken, nothing unexpected as far as Harry could tell. The arena, constructed similarly to the one that had housed the Quidditch World Cup, was tamper-proof by design. It could simulate a variety of environments, whose settings could be locked for a set time, preventing sabotage and meddling during the task. Apparition was warded against, for this task at least. Since Harry couldn't do that anyway - though he and his friends had plans to learn that next summer, just in case - he wasn't bothered by that restriction. And of course the area housing the creatures used for the task was heavily warded and isolated. Only a select few could enter, and those usually stayed there.

After a bit of discussion - mostly to let Karkaroff feel like he had as much of a say in this as Dumbledore had, Harry thought - the meeting started to break up. Harry was about to head out to rejoin Hermione when Viktor Krum approached him. "Mister Potter? May I have a word, please?"

"Of course, Mister Krum." Harry nodded, and saw Fleur Delacour eye them discreetly. He cast a privacy charm, which seemed to surprise the older boy. Maybe even impress him, Harry thought.

"I wish to tell you that contrary to some unsavory rumors I have heard, I have no untoward intentions concerning your retainer. I will follow custom and traditions, as expected, should I win the tournament." His accent was strong, but his English was good. Maybe a translation charm, though those could remove accents as well, Harry remembered Hermione telling him.

"I would not expect anything else from a wizard of your reputation, Mister Krum." Harry nodded. "Should I happen to win the Tournament, I will of course do the same." Which was quite unlikely, in his opinion, even though he couldn't help having a few fantasies about winning the tournament, and holding all three stakes in his arms as well as the trophy.

Krum nodded at him, and then stepped outside the spells radius, to leave with his impatient Headmaster. Harry was about to leave himself, when he was stopped again.

"A secret meeting between Champions, Mister Potter?" Fleur Delacour sounded amused, but also interested.

"Mister Krum just assured me of his intentions to honor custom and tradition should he win the Tournament." Harry explained. The French veela faintly smiled in response.

"That is good to know. Although I would 'ave expected the chastity enchantments to work well enough to prevent anything untoward." The witch bowed her head and glided out of the room before Harry managed to respond.

"The what!?"

Harry heard Dumbledore laugh behind him, and turned around. The Headmaster was clearly amused, and even Moody was grinning - usually a terrifying sight. After a bit, the old wizard explained. "There are persistent rumors in the other schools that all Hogwarts students below 6th years are under spells to ensure they remain chaste. To keep them safe from the mandatory orgies of our upper years, you understand." Mirth twinkled in his eyes while Harry gaped. "Oh, yes. Our school has quite the reputation among the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. There's a lesson, I guess, to teach us not believe everything we hear about the other schools. Or from them. Off with you now, your friend is waiting and might start to grow concerned about your continued absence."

Outside, Hermione was indeed looking worried. Before the young witch could ask anything though, Harry spoke up. "Did you know the other schools think we have chastity enchantments and mandatory orgies?"

"They what?" Harry hadn't seen his best friend that flustered in quite some time.

*****​

The day of the first task had finally arrived. Hermione was waiting in the Gryffindor common room for Harry to descend from his dorm, so they could walk together to the arena. She hadn't managed to finish the adaption of the flame-freezing charm in time, but she had brewed some fire-retardant to soak Harry's robes in. And his hair, just in case. There were not many left in the dorm, most had already gone ahead to secure good spots for themselves, including Ron. Neither Harry nor herself would have to worry about that, of course. Harry would be taking part in the task, and Hermione had a spot next to the judges, together with a broom and a necklace. Just thinking about the indignity made her frown. And then she felt guilty for it. She would be safe, and secure, while Harry would be taking part in this stupid tournament, dangerous enough on its own, but manipulated by a homicidal maniac.

Her torc grew warm, interrupting her thoughts. Harry was on his way. Hermione checked the room. No one else was around. She quickly started up the stairs, meeting Harry halfway. Before he could say anything, she hugged him with all her strength, as if she could keep him here and safe that way. "Please be careful." She whispered, her face buried in his shoulder.

"Of course." He rubbed her back until she pulled back, wiping some tears from her face with her sleeve, the moisture fading at once thanks to her spells, then nodded.

"My Patron."

"My Wand."

They made their way towards the arena. It was a marvel of magic, Hermione had to admit. As big as a Quidditch arena on the outside, but expanded inside in a way that enlarged the floor several times beyond the Arena's capacity and yet kept all spectators as close as if the arena was actually smaller than it was. As far as expansion charms went, it was the most complex and mind-warping example she had ever seen. Truly inspirational. If only Harry wouldn't be forced to enter it and compete in the tournament.

They entered through the reserved gate for the staff and Champions and walked to the judges. Harry whispered "I am sorry", before he motioned her to the chair next to judges' table, flanked by two pedestals holding a Krum's broom and Delacour's necklace. "It's alright." Hermione whispered back before taking her seat there, feeling various protection charms and spells snap into place around her.

"The Hogwarts Champion has placed his stake." Dumbledore announced formally, and Harry walked towards the small platform where the other two Champions were already waiting. Delacour was wearing a sturdier robe, Hermione noticed - though she was sure it wasn't any less enchanted. Probably less vulnerable to a finite. The arena floor was shrouded in shadows, keeping anyone from seeing what had been prepared.

Hermione fought to not bite her lip. To remain stoic, and not show how nervous she was. She distracted herself with studying the audience. Some of them, she suspected, were mainly here to see if Harry would die. Rita Skeeter's article, while based on the facts they knew, had been as sensationalized as ever, and had more than simply hinted at some nefarious design behind the manipulation, even speculated to a link to the attack on the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione had liked that - it meant an extra-complement of aurors standing guard. No one wanted a repeat of that incident. Especially not with most of the Wizengamot and the Ministry here. Of course, Hermione thought, spotting the Malfoys, some of the prime suspects of that attack were here anyway.

The whole spectacle reminded her strongly of Roman gladiator games. The parallels were hard to miss. Though contrary to ancient times, no gods were called upon here - the Goblet had been forged in the time before the Witch Hunts had soured Christianity for the Magical World.

"With all contestants ready and their stakes on display, let the first task of the Triwizard Tournament begin!" Dumbledore raised his wand, and the shadows dispersed, revealing the arena. Hermione gasped at the sight. The floor was made of lava, from which stone pillars rose, holding up a platform made of what looked like wood, three meters above the lava. Hermione knew the lava was enchanted, it couldn't be real or the wood and anyone passing over it would burst into flames from the heat, but it still was a sight she'd rather not have seen.

The audience disagreed of course - applause filled the arena. It grew stronger when a dozen shapes appeared from a gate opposite the Champions, what looked like hundreds of meters away, and yet was as easy to observe as if she was sitting just a dozen meters from it. Fire drakes, Hermione realized. Fire-spewing flying lizards, as large as a border collie. Luna had told her and Harry about them, when they had studied fire-themed animals. They were fiercely territorial, related to Dragons, resistant to magic; if not to the same degree as their much larger relatives, and could smell their prey, especially fire crabs, which they considered a treat, from miles away.

Another flick from Dumbledore's wand sent three shining gems into the arena, a golden one, a silver one and a bronze one. They settled on a pedestal in front of the gate the Drakes had come through. The flying lizards at once rushed around the shiny gems, screeching. The drakes coveted shining things, Hermione remembered. Even if they very rarely hurt humans seriously, preferring to drive them away from their nests with fire and intimidating behaviour, they would defend such a prize. And accidents could happen.

Dumbledore hadn't finished though. Another swish and flick, and the wooden platform was filled with a veritable obstacle course of wooden walls, ladders, and figures of all kinds.

"Whoever reaches the golden gem wins the task, with silver earning second place and bronze third." Or last, Hermione thought. Then the wooden figures and walls and obstacles on the platform started to burn. "The longer you wait, the less obstacles you have to pass, for they will have burned down. But be careful, for the floor will be sinking down, and if you wait too long you will end up in the lava yourself. The gate will only open if you hold a gem." At that moment, Hermione wanted to hurt whoever had thought of such a task, but judging from the loud cheering, she was a tiny minority there.

A loud fanfare was the signal to start, and the three Champions entered the arena. Hermione couldn't help but cry out when Harry stepped on the wooden floor, and a transparent shield appeared behind him, cutting him off from the audience.

*****​

Harry was grateful for the bubblehead charm, the air inside the arena was filled with smoke, partially obscuring their goal. It was hot, but not as hot as it should be, so close above lava. He was still looking around when Krum started for the first obstacle in front of them, a burning wall made of wood. The seeker's reducto blew a hole into it, but a rather smallish one, Harry thought Judging from the curses Krum muttered, Harry hadn't been the only one expecting a bigger one. It would have been too easy, he realized, if they could simply blast their way across the platform.

If he had his broom with him he could simply fly right at the prize… He grinned suddenly. Lateral thinking, Hermione called it. Going through the obstacles was a slow process, even without the animated figures attacking them. But going above…

Harry used a few reductos to blow up a wooden wall until he had a board broken off, then cast a levitation charm on it. It wobbled a bit, but rose obediently. Perfect. it wasn't a broom, and it would be very slow, but still faster than going through the obstacles.

Though as soon as he sat down on it it burst into ashes, dropping him on the ground. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one thinking of this. Though on the other hand… if he could cast that spell on an obstacle, and then step on it to destroy it in seconds…

Loud screeching interrupted his planning. Looking up, he saw a dozen fire drakes descend, fangs bared and claws out. Krum was in the middle of climbing over an obstacle 20 meters in front of Harry, and two of the drakes attacked, raking him with their claws. They had not spit fire at Krum, Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. They were not trying to frighten him away, they were hunting Krum! And himself!

He dropped to the ground and rolled away when he caught a winged shape dive at him, barely evading fangs that could crack a fire crab carapace. The young Champion shot a stunner at the beast without thinking - and without any effect, the spell splashing harmlessly against the drake's wings. For a moment he thought of using the potion-portkey, but then decided against it - if he was knocked unconscious, even if only for a few seconds before the portkey worked, those drakes would tear him to pieces. And eat him. A sprint carried him past another dive-bombing reptile, closer to where Krum had fallen down. If the lessons from Remus and Sirius had taught him one thing, then that teamwork was the key when defending against multiple fast attackers.

Harry jumped at a burning wall, trusting the potion covering his robes to protect him, and pulled himself up, then over it. A blunt impact behind him, right as he slid down the other side, told him another drake had gone after him. He ran around the burning embers of a ripped apart scarecrow and dove through a small hole in the next wall, pursued by two more drakes who had to pull up to avoid that obstacle. There was Krum, on the ground, one arm dangling uselessly and bleeding at his side, but casting and holding three of the drakes at bay!

Harry screamed like a madman - it couldn't hurt, he later defended himself - and then sent a glowing stag at the drakes. The stag had not much of an effect, but distracted the beasts long enough so he could reach the Bulgarian wizard. Crouching down next to Krum, he cast a shield. "Can you heal yourself?" he shouted, to be heard over the screeching of the lizards.

Krum nodded, and flicked his wand at his bleeding arm. Harry couldn't check how much it helped, he had to focus on his shield as one, then another drake crashed against it, almost shattering it.

Then a much larger figure landed - or crashed - to the ground near the two. Harry almost cursed at it, until he realized it was Delacour, in her bird form. Gone was the perfect face, replaced by the beak of a bird of prey. Large wings had sprouted from her shoulders, and her clawed feet held the broken remains of a drake, crushed on the ground. She raised her head and screeched at the drakes circling above them. Harry barely heard Krum whispering curses or prayers under his breath while he stared at the sight. He couldn't help but briefly wondering what Ron would think of her now.

Then the remaining drakes attacked again, and he was busy shielding. Krum blinded one of the drakes with a well-aimed conjunctivitis curse, Delacour flew up and smacked two more from the air, crushing one as she came down on it just as Harry used a reducto on the ground under the other, turning the wood into deadly splinters that pierced even drake scales.

And opened a hole for the heat simmering under the platform. Even Delacour, with a veela's affinity to fire, was driven back when the temperature rose quickly and drastically, and the wooden planks around the hole started to burn. Harry exchanged a glance with Krum, then started to run towards the gates, their original goal, followed by Delacour.

The drakes were still chasing them. It made no sense, they had seen three of their number killed and another blinded, and yet kept coming. Delacour's screech warned them of another attack, and Harry raised his shield in time to see two more impact on it. He was straining to keep it up while Krum finished one of them with a curse that looked like a poison effect. Delacour ripped the other to pieces with her claws, screeching at the remaining six again.

One of those seemed to respond to what Harry realized was a challenge, and dove at her, spitting fire that washed harmlessly over her. Her own fireballs, launched from her hands, showed an equal lack of effect. Then the two met in a flurry of claws fangs and beaks. The drake fought fiercely, but Delacour had size and mass over it - and her wings were far more powerful than the drake's. She knocked it down with one blow from her left wing, then smacked it 10 meters back with the other when it jumped up. That was enough for the drake, who flew away before rejoining his brethren.

Harry expected the next attack, wand ready, while Krum healed the cuts Delacour had suffered, but none came. "I claimed you as my prey." Delacour explained, her voice distorted into an alien sound, drastically different from her usual melodic voice.

"What?" Harry blinked. Had he heard correctly?

"They see you as prey. I challenged them." Delacour kept her eyes on the circling drakes.

"You can understand them?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Harry shouldn't have been so surprised, He was a parselmouth, after all. It stood to reason that a veela might understand other creatures of air and fire.

"They have simple minds, seeing everything as either predator or prey. I proved to be stronger." She turned her head with her blood-stained beak towards Harry and Krum. "I am not eating you." The screeching laughter that followed told Harry just how shaken he and Krum must have looked.

Working together - the drakes were still following them, "They hope to scavenge from me", Delacour had explained - the obstacles posed no problems for the three champions, and soon they stood in front of the pedestal holding the three gems, exchanging looks. Everyone needed a gem to escape the arena, but who would get which one?

Krum didn't hesitate long. "Miss Delacour saved us both, she gets the golden one."

Harry nodded. "And you get the silver one. It's my fault those drakes attacked us."

Krum looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded after he met Harry's eyes.

With the drakes still waiting for an opportunity to attack, the three went through the gate together. The first task of the Triwizard Tournament was over.

*****​

Barty Crouch Jr. laughed, reading the Daily Prophet detailing the events of the first task. As if he had struck then and there if he had actually wanted to kill Potter. No, he'd have waited, let them grow complacent and lower their guard, before striking. But now, and for just an imperius, an obliviate and a few liters of fire crab liver extract, his Master's enemies would focus even more on Hogwarts, allowing him to prepare the resurrection ritual with very little risk. And who knew? With a bit of luck, Potter might still die to his next attack. And should that happen, should the Boy-Who-Lived die in Dumbledore's care, then the meddling old wizard would be far too busy dealing with everyone screaming for his head to oppose Barty's master until it was too late.

The Death Eater stood up, dropping the newspaper on the table, then smiled at his father and the family elf, Winky, both bound and gagged by his spells. "I'll take my leave now, father. I'd love to kill you, but… that would create a risk I cannot take. Not yet. So…"

He pointed his wand at his father's head. "Obliviate! Your son died in Azkaban. Your wife died soon afterwards. You never thought to rescue him.You have spent the rest of your life alone, with Winky as your only companion, regretting that you sacrificed your son's life for political ambitions which ultimately failed."

After wiping the knowledge of his continued existence from the minds of his father and his elf and canceling the spells that held them, Barty left his family home. He had his Master's resurrection to prepare.


Chapter 5: Duels

 

[Ack]

Interesting.

Very interesting.

I wonder if stakes are allowed to cast spells?

Typos:

But it beat dieing.

Click to shrink...

dying

He rubbed her back until she pulled back, wiping some tears from her face with her sleeve, the moisture fading a once thanks to her spells, then nodded.

Click to shrink...

fading at once

They entered through the reserved gate for the staff and Champions and walked to the judges table.

Click to shrink...

judges' (the table belonging to the judges)

 

[Starfox5]

Thanks! I corrected the typos. There might have been a ruling about stakes and spellcasting in the past, though contrary to Hermione's thoughts, such stakes were not a common occurrence.

 

[steamrick]

Am I the only one that thinks meeting a Veela in bird form would probably be incredibly hot?
(yes, pun very much intended)

Personally I think that most authors concentrate far too much on the veela's allure and not enough on the rest of their abilities. In my opinion, the allure is the least interesting of their talents.


Also, all-round impressive writing. Loving the story

 

[Starfox5]

Am I the only one that thinks meeting a Veela in bird form would probably be incredibly hot?
(yes, pun very much intended)

Personally I think that most authors concentrate far too much on the veela's allure and not enough on the rest of their abilities. In my opinion, the allure is the least interesting of their talents.

Click to shrink...

Next chapter will show the general reaction and attidue of the British wizards to Fleur transforming. I have to point out that veelas in my stories are supernaturally attractive, but not to the point of reducing average men and women to drooling (they don't have an allure they can turn on and off here). They can achieve that by dancing though.

Also, all-round impressive writing. Loving the story

Click to shrink...

Thanks!

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 5: Duels

Hermione was standing so close to Harry, she was sure he could feel her breath, she was still panting from her dead run to him, on his neck. Watching the first task had been a horrible experience for the young witch. She had realized at once that the animals were not acting naturally when they did not display their typical threatening behaviour, but attacked right away. When she had seen them attacking Harry she had felt such an urge to help him, save him, she had almost tried to break through the shield separating the arena from the audience. Only the knowledge that it would not only have been forbidden, but futile had kept her from trying, and even so it had been a close call. Her best friend, her Patron, had been in danger, and she had been forced to watch helplessly, uselessly. She had bitten her lip bloody waiting and worrying while the audience, not realizing this was not planned, roared with delight. Blood sports indeed.

But even worse was the aftermath. Hermione had rushed to the exit, to Harry, as soon as he had left the arena. While not exactly proper procedure for a stake in the tournament, her being his retainer allowed this, even called for it. But hugging him, as she so desperately wanted, to not only see, but feel that he was safe and unharmed, was out of the question. Far too many were watching them. She contented herself by brushing some ash from his robes as an excuse to at least touch him. In response Harry turned his head briefly, smiling at her. "I am fine, My Wand." At least someone had cast a spell to keep the crowd's loud reaction from reaching them.

The judges, several aurors and the healers assigned to the tournament surrounded the three Champions. Everyone was talking over each other for a bit, with the healers barely having enough space to check for wounds other than the obvious ones on Krum, which quickly were dealt with.

"I do not detect any curses on them." Stated a tall, black auror.

"No sign of Malaclaw Venom either." Another auror said, after waving his wand. The other auror scoffed at that. "If they had been suffering from that they'd not have made such a good time through the obstacles, and they'd have been mauled, Gregor."

Hermione caught Snape, who seemed to be conducting his own investigation, smile snidely at that comment before the Potion Master focused on his wand work again. The witch took note that almost everyone was casting silently. Even Dumbledore was casting, though she had no idea what kind of spells - he was barely moving his wand at all.

"Headmaster! Headmaster! I found it!" Hagrid's loud, booming voice, made everyone stop and look at the half-giant. Hermione just then realized that he had, with a few more aurors and probably experts for magical animals, entered the arena.

"Splendid, Rubeus. Please enlighten us." Dumbledore sounded almost cheerful, despite the seriousness of the situation, in Hermione's opinion. Madam Maxime also seemed to brighten up.

"From the way the drakes attacked they must have mistaken the children fo' their prey since they normally do not attack humans. There was no sign o' any spells on them, not now and not befo' the event, I checked personally. But they hunt by smell, so someone must've dosed the Champions with somethin' that made 'em smell like prey. Prolly like fire crabs, the little tykes go crazy for them and they haven't had any fo' weeks. Someone cut the budget fo' it. If I 'ad been in charge o' the animals… they'd not have been killed. Poor little tykes."

Dumbledore nodded. Snape cut in "Since fire crab liver extract is harmless, the wards against poison wouldn't have caught it in the kitchen." He sneered at Harry and added "Since I doubt all three Champions would have been so careless to let someone dose them with such a substance, the meals are the most plausible means to accomplish such a feat."

"Exactly, Severus. Provided this hypothesis turns out to be true. I believe you can easily confirm it with an analysis of the children's sweat, can't you?"

"Blood would be better, but sweat will work as well." Hermione had no doubt that was true, but not many wizards would let another draw blood from them to experiment with. Far too dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands. She remembered the reactions of her fellow students when she had mentioned blood donation drives and blood transfusions. Everyone had thought she was pulling their legs, even when she had tried to prove it with a book her parents had mailed her on her request. Judging by the snort Harry had let slip at Snape's words, he'd not even dream of letting the man get ahold of his blood.

"I believe we have done all we can here, and can leave the rest in the capable hands of the aurors and Severus." Dumbledore beamed. "Our Champions handled themselves splendidly, and I was delighted to see them close ranks in the face of unexpected danger. The audience certainly went wild, as the saying goes." Hermione saw that most of the wizards and witches present nodded. Karkaroff frowned, but didn't say anything, and Snape was glaring around. "Let us now proceed to judge the event, before Cornelius grows impatient."

With that the judges led the Champions to their table, with Hermione trailing behind Harry until she had to sit down at the stakes table again. The Minister for Magic gave a short speech about the skill and bravery of the Champions, and the spirit of cooperation, as expected, then the verdict was rendered. Unsurprisingly, Delacour was confirmed as the victor of the task, with Krum taking second place and Harry third. Hermione had the impression Karkaroff would have liked to argue, but had not wanted to contradict his own Champion. With everyone finishing at the same time, the actual point differences were minimal anyway - 60, 55 and 50 points, respectively. Harry had still a good chance to win the tournament, Hermione thought, then chastised herself silently for thinking such selfish thoughts - he had to survive the assassination attempts, not think about winning!

*****​

The next day Hermione was sitting in the Great hall, next to Harry, and reading the newspapers delivered by owls. The Daily Prophet's headline stated "Champions brave fire drakes", and the pictures on the front page made Hermione remember the fear she had felt for Harry. She would have shivered, if not for Harry's hand briefly patting her back. She did study the picture showing Delacour transforming in detail though - it was a fascinating process.

The muggleborn witch and her Patron had been very surprised that seeing the beautiful French witch change into a frightening bird-woman did nothing to diminish the attraction so many students had for her - quite the contrary, in fact. Delacour remained the witch many dreamed of bedding, and her ability to change her form seemed to make her more magical, and therefore even more perfect in the eyes of many wizards and not a few witches. A brief glance to her left confirmed that most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was looking at the Ravenclaw table with hopeful expressions on their faces. She felt a brief satisfaction that Harry didn't seem to share that opinion even if Ron was straining his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the blonde again.

The picture showing herself with the rest of the stakes was less welcome, in her opinion. At least it was taken before the start instead of during the event, when she had bitten her lip until it bled. The description of the picture was quite flattering. Her pride at the praise of her appearance, skill and manners was short-lived though, since the very next sentence speculated that Krum or Delacour might wish to keep her for themselves in case they won the Tournament. Fortunately she knew from Harry that Krum had no such intentions, and neither did she think had Delacour. A growl from Harry made her look up - he had just read the same paragraph.

"It's just some baseless speculation." she whispered, briefly patting his thigh. He nodded at her, but his mood did not seem to improve. She decided to distract him before someone picked up on that.

"Look at that. They know that the Fire Drakes have been manipulated, but they do not know the method used. But the author blames Dumbledore for his 'appalling lack of security' while at the same time dismisses the Fire Drakes as 'mere pests'. Those drakes hunt fire crabs! Has that man ever seen a fire crab?" Hermione huffed before summoning the floating plate of fruits to her to pick up fresh pineapple slices.

"It's from Valdemar Beckleton. Rita said he's in Malfoy's pocket." Harry dug into his own breakfast. "But on the positive side, the Purists have stopped protesting the Tournament since now it's 'not just an unneeded entertainment for the masses'." Harry snorted.

"That's positive?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Better than this: 'This interference is just the first step of the vengeance from heaven for not calling upon the gods at the start of the Tournament. Jupiter has been angered, and has sent his animals to reap vengeance.' That's a quote from the High Priest of the Faithful."

Hermione rolled her eyes. The Faithful were extremists who took the veneration of the Old Gods very seriously - and took the lack of true faith among mainstream Wizarding Britain even more seriously. "Great. I wonder if he even realizes that Jupiter's animal is the eagle, not the fire drake," she added whispering despite the spells granting them privacy.

"Are you sure? That sounds odd. Eagles are not even magical." Ron had returned to his own meal, and joined the conversation. Hermione opened her mouth, ready to correct the redhead when she caught his sly grin. He was pulling her leg. Huffing, she speared her next pineapple slice.

"Snape confirmed that our food was laced with fire crab liver extract. Hagrid found some more, near the cage for the fire drakes. He said the smell drove them wild. Hagrid wasn't affected himself, so it probably happened when he was eating in Hogsmeade with Madam Maxime." Harry explained to their friend.

"Why didn't anyone notice?" Ron shifted a bit, to make space for Neville who was arriving late, as seemed to be the norm this term for him.

"They kept the drakes isolated from any student or teacher, so no one noticed the effect." Hermione explained. "A classic case of using our own security measures against us. I do hope this was accidental, and not planned."

"Better not count on that." Ron commented while refilling his goblet with more pumpkin juice.

"Are you sure they didn't dose you specifically?" Neville asked after filling his own plate with the help of a few summoning charms.

"They checked more students than just the Champions."

"Someone has to have helped them, then. Someone on the inside." Neville looked at his food as if he was suspecting it to jump up into his face.

"It must have been a house elf. Probably an Imperius or Confundus charm, followed by an obliviate." Hermione had finished her own breakfast, and could focus on the topic at hand. "Checking all elves for possible hints of that will be nigh-impossible. It's hard enough to spot altered memories in a human brain, and it takes a long time with a pensieve. I do not think anyone ever bothered to do the same for elves." She felt for the elves, they were in a situation somewhat similar to her own. If one squinted and closed an eye, as Harry had said when she mentioned it. Close enough for her, in any case.

"So, that trace is a dead end." Ron summed her statement up.

"Yes."

"Heads up, Malfoy's headed our way." Ron nodded towards the blond Slytherin strutting through the Great Hall as if he owned it, his girlfriend at his side and his two goons at his back.

"Good Morning, Mister Potter." Malfoy nodded at Harry, barely enough to avoid insulting him. Harry returned the greeting with the same precision. "Is it true that you had so much trouble with mere pests, you had to run to the other Champions to save yourself?"

"I would hardly call animals who hunt fire crabs for food as mere pests, but then, I am not taking Care of Magical Creatures, so I bow to your superior knowledge. You even have the scars on your arm to prove your mastery of the subject." Harry answered with a pleasant if toothy smile. Malfoy stiffened and Hermione smiled blandly, to hide her amusement. Malfoy had defied Hagrid's instructions, and gotten mauled for it. And to top this particularly fine piece of stupidity, he had then tried to use his wound to not only get the Quidditch games rescheduled but also to get the hippogriff killed. As if Matron Pomfrey would not see right through his malingering, and Hagrid not provide pensieve evidence of the lesson in question. Sometimes she wondered just how he came up with those plots.

"Good. I do wish you better success in the next task. Apparently your competitors might actually find your stake attractive enough to consider keeping her. I would never contemplate to lower myself to that level, but foreigners apparently lack our standards." Draco sneered at Hermione while stating this, making it quite clear that the standards he considered lacking should such an event occur were not those of honor and tradition, but of aesthetics.

Harry bristled at the intended insult to Hermione, but fortunately managed to control himself enough to answer in a civil tone. "I trust my fellow champions' honor. We fought side by side, after all, in the face of lethal danger, which forms a certain bond. Mister Malfoy."

"Indeed, Mister Potter. Good day." Malfoy nodded, seemingly acknowledging the point, which surprised Hermione. Parkinson seemed surprised as well, before she started tittering to her beloved.

"For someone who just insulted the honor of two Champions and possibly their schools and countries just to needle me, that was a surprising reaction, or lack thereof." Harry commented.

Ron agreed. "Usually he'd claim he did the same, or better, or that you lied."

"Maybe he is growing up some?" Hermione nibbled on her lip again.

All four Gryffindors at their corner of the table looked at each other, then shook their heads.

*****​

Harry almost smiled, watching Hermione check and recheck the spells that had turned an unused classroom she was normally using for her - still unsuccessful - experiments in magic-proofing electronics into a small lounge. She was just a bit too concerned with everything appearing to be perfect for their guests. Inviting Delacour and Krum to discuss the events of the day before in a more casual setting had been her idea, but she seemed to have forgotten the casual part. At least she was focusing on the room, and not anymore on him. She had cast half a dozen charms on him already. The room showed the results of her efforts though - the walls were covered with illusions a wooden panels and animated paintings, the floor was covered by a conjured thick brown carpet, and the refreshments provided by the house elves (and double-checked by Moody and Hermione) were waiting on floating trays. There even was an illusionary fireplace in the other wall.

A glance to his right increased his amusement. Ron was rechecking all the spells on his best school robe, and fretting over meeting both his Quidditch idol and "the most beautiful bird in the castle" at the same time, and in an almost intimate setting. Or so he had described it.

After a few more minutes of this entertainment, there was a knock at the door. Their guests had arrived. Hermione ran a cosmetic spell over herself, for the 6th time this evening, and went to open the door. After glaring at him, that was - she seemed to have not forgotten Harry's joke that if she overdid it with the cosmetic spells, she might cause Krum to regret his earlier promise.

"My Patron bids you welcome, Mister Krum, Miss Delacour, and offers his hospitality for the duration of your visit." Hermione formally greeted Krum and Delacour. So much for a more casual setting, Harry thought, while his two guests accepted the invitation and hospitality. Though knowing that any hostile action would be a scandalous break of custom for whoever did it was a good way to make wizards and witches feel at ease.

"Welcome, my fellow Champions, to my humble if temporary abode. May I present my close friend Ronald Weasley to you?" Harry gestured to Ron, who had managed to compose himself, to the point of grinning at the two Champions while he greeted them. Both returned the greeting.

While everybody sat down on the massive but soft dark leather couches and seats Harry and Hermione had conjured, his retainer summoned the prepared trays with drinks and a few snacks, levitating them over to the tea table floating in the middle. Once everyone had been served, she sat down on the armrest of Harry's seat. It was a seating arrangement they had developed for such gatherings, casual but not limited to close friends and family. It let Hermione sit close - to Harry and the guests - while giving a nod to the tradition of a retainer waiting at their Patron's side in case their services were needed. From the amused smirk on Delacour's face she had noticed. Krum was harder to read; his face didn't show any emotion.

"I am happy you accepted my invitation." Harry started. "I would offer my sincere apologies for the events of yesterday. If not for whatever madman is after me, you'd not have been in danger."

"Not in quite as much danger, you mean." Delacour answered. "But we would still 'ave 'ad to deal with the drakes."

Krum nodded. "And while I would not like to downplay my wounds, or your help, which was greatly appreciated, it did seem a bit… weak for an assassination attempt."

Harry had to agree. He and his friends had come to the same conclusion, after giving it some thought. "I concur. Though whether that happened due to a lack of skill or opportunity on the side of the assassin, or if that was done to make us lower our guard is impossible to tell. I trust such a ploy will not work though." Both his fellow champions nodded at that, and for a moment the mood grew somber. With a smile, Harry raised his glass. "That said, I have to express my appreciation and respect for your skill and talent. While we are all Champions, I would prefer to consider you as allies first, competitors second, and not just because of possible further tampering. It is no secret that I did not want to enter this tournament, not this year at least, and that my focus is on survival rather than winning."

Ron, Krum and Delacour raised their glasses as well, then drank. Hermione sipped from her own glass at that point.

"A wise stance, Mister Potter. Though given my impression and your past deeds, you do have the means to win as well." Krum stated, and with a nod to Hermione, added "And of course the best motivation of all of us." Harry felt a slight spark of irritation at that, but tried to suppress it. It was a compliment, after all. Though when a glance of him revealed Hermione's faint blush at the comment, he grew more irritated, not less.

"I trust your honor in that area, Mister Krum."

"Of course. Despite some rumors, Durmstrang does not condone the taking of liberties from those of less than pureblood status."

"Ah, rumors." Delacour sighed, though a bit overly dramatic in Harry's opinion. Maybe that was just the French way. "I think everyone present is familiar with 'ow annoying those can be."

That brought a general agreement from all present.

"I was surprised to hear what rumors claim happens at Hogwarts." Harry took another sip from his glass, which was refilled by the floating carafe. "To think there were mandatory orgies here… or chastity spells…" he shook his head. He heard Hermione cough at his comment.

Krum looked a bit surprised. "So, the claims that the upper years at Hogwarts do, ah 'live it up', are false? I have received a number of offers to join them, and did not think those were false." He didn't sound quite disappointed, but that could be because he inferred that he had not taken up anyone on such offers.

"Oh, there are orgies. Just not mandatory ones." Ron clarified, oblivious to the glares from Harry and Hermione. Harry still wasn't that comfortable with what the Year of Discovery entailed, and he was not sure he'd ever be, despite, or because of Sirius' tales. From the lack of surprise on Delacour's face, she had been aware of that already, though Harry doubted due to personal experience - such news would have spread like fiendfyre through the Castle.

"It does seem as if 'ogwarts is the closest to the traditions, or rumored traditions, of our pre-Christian ancestors in that area." The veela added. "In Magical France, we focus more on courtship than orgies. Or so we claim, which I am bound to support." Her glass was being refilled as well, and she smiled in a rather flirting manner. Harry could see where the rumors concerning Beauxbatons students and their conquests had come from. A glance showed him that Hermione could see the same. He patted her thigh, concealing it as a request for more snacks.

Krum frowned. "It is different at Durmstrang than the rumors claim. We do not speak so frankly of such matters, or only when drunk or with friends closer than brothers. But we do not live like monks, nor do we have a stable of, ah, employees for such acts. We're simply discreet."

Harry was relieved to hear that, but felt it was time for a change of topic. For Hermione's sake, of course, and because he was still two years away from the Year of Discovery. "I must say I was very impressed by your broom. I fly a Firebolt myself, but yours seems far superior from what I heard. " He could almost feel Hermione frown at that, but Ron of course jumped at the chance to talk about brooms. Delacour changed the topic when it became apparent to everyone but Ron that Krum was not as enamored of talking about Quidditch, to which the talk had quickly shifted, as one would expect from a star seeker. A quality Hermione appreciated, or so it seemed to Harry.

Nevertheless, the evening continued in a friendly manner - they had fought side by side, after all - and when it was time to leave for their dorms, everyone was on a first name basis. Even Hermione, though of course such familiarity was limited to private - or as Fleur called it, in he teasing manner, intimate - gatherings. Harry would have been angry about that injustice, if not for the fact that he thought Viktor had been interested in more than the subject when Hermione had talked about her spell crafting attempts. He couldn't help but wishing Hermione was a fan of Quidditch. Something he had wished for often in the past, but not for this reason.

*****​

"Dean asked me out for the ball, but… I hope Ron is asking me out! He smiled at me at breakfast." Lavender Brown's voice carried through the dorm like a Harpy's screech, in Hermione's opinion. Especially when followed by giggling from both Brown and Parvati Patil. And that suck-up, Perks the fake muggleborn. Talking about the Yule Ball. About dates. Most of the school was talking about that. Speculating who would be going with whom. Hoping for someone specific to ask them out, or asking someone out themselves.

"Oh… Ron's a prize. A Basilisk Slayer and a pureblood, but not stuck up at all." Patil cooed. Actually cooed. Hermione was sure they were talking that loud just to make sure she would overhear them. She, and Fay Dunbar, of course. Fay would not be at the ball at all. The Purists spent Yule contemplating and honoring magic, as she had explained to Hermione in their first year, not in frivolous celebration. It was a good time to make important decisions, or so she claimed.

Hermione… she wasn't sure what she'd be doing at the Yule Ball. That she would be there was a given, even if she had no date she'd attend as Harry's retainer. The thought made her frown, and from the way the three other girls started giggling and whispering, they must have noticed. Harpies. The young witch didn't think attending as Harry's retainer, waiting to serve, would be fun. But getting a date would be a problem, not that she had anyone in mind.

Hogwarts usually was rather egalitarian for a Wizard school, the Hogsmeade dates and of course the Year of Discovery proved that, but since the Yule Ball was part of the Triwizard Tournament, different rules - customs - applied to who could ask whom to be their date. As a muggleborn, she couldn't ask anyone but a muggleborn. At the same time, as the retainer of the Boy-Who-Lived, anyone wanting to ask her would have to ask Harry first. A daunting task. Not many would want to risk angering Harry by asking his mistress to be their date, no matter how unfounded those rumors about them were. Which was not that bad, all things considered - it spared her the task of turning someone down. Ron of course would be her date if she wanted him to, but that would be unfair to her friend. He should be dancing with a girl - or boy, though so far he hadn't showed any such preference, with the possible exception of Viktor - he wanted to dance with. Besides, she was too proud to ask for such pity.

"What about you, Parvati? Who do you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know… if Longbottom asked I'd certainly not turn him down. Or Zabini." Patil sighed, and Hermione could imagine the affected pose she must have struck.

"Oh, tall, dark and handsome…" Perks of course tuned in. Hermione, not too kindly, thought Finnigan would ask Perks, once he got turned down by too many other witches. The irish student was a skirt-chaser with not many standards, in her admittedly biased opinion.

"What about you, Hermione? Who do you hope will ask you for the ball?" Lavender asked with fake interest. She turned towards the three other girls, all leaning forward with clear interest in their eyes. Even Fay was looking up from her book. Hermione suppressed the urge to sigh. So transparent.

"I haven't thought about that at all yet." she lied with a smile. "I was completely concerned with helping my Patron preparing for the Yule Ball. Neither he nor his friends have chosen a date yet, and I might be called upon to offer what meager advice I might give." Her smile grow more honest when she saw the three social climbers suddenly understanding that while Hermione might be heading for a dateless Yule Ball, she was close to three of the most fancied boys in Gryffindor, or even the school, and that at least Harry, but maybe the others as well, were often relying on her advice in a lot of matters. She noticed that Fay barely hid a smirk.

When the three others quickly grew far more friendly than before, she almost sighed again. So transparent!

*****​

Harry wiped sweat from his face with a quickly conjured piece of cloth. He was winded, and the training with Sirius and Remus wasn't even close to finished. After the sabotage at the first task, their training had grown far more intense. Even Sirius had grown more serious, and they referred a lot more to their own training and fights during the Blood War than to the pranks they had pulled at school. It was a marked contrast to the almost giddy feeling that had taken over Hogwarts in preparation of the Yule Ball. Though he would call it more like a feeding frenzy, in private. Fortunately, his status as Head of Family meant that no one his age could ask him, so he was free to … carefully think about who he would ask. Later.

He banished the cloth then finited it before it hit the ground. Sirius nodded at his aim and conjured a couch for them to sit down and take a small break. Two bottles of butterbeer were floating near him. Remus and Hermione were still going at it, sending waves of spells at each other on the other side of the room. Harry recognized most, but not all spells the two used. Hermione must have been busy studying on the side, or spellcrafting in preparation of the dueling competition of the tournament. Ron had cut the lesson short, to see if he could ask Padma Patil out for the ball. His friend would have asked her sister, if not for Hermione informing him that Parvati was hoping for Blaise Zabini to ask her.

"Good casting there, Harry. You've gotten faster and more precise." Sirius sounded approving, even proud. It felt good.

"Thanks. I do need to improve a lot though, I couldn't touch you most of the time." He levitated one bottle over to him while Sirius grabbed the other.

"You've got the basics down pat, the rest is just training and refining." Sirius raised his bottle as if toasting him. "Look at them go. Remus always knew more spells than James and I together, and Hermione seems to match him already in that area, if not yet in speed. Quite precise as well."

"Her spells lack power though." Harry remarked. That would hamper her in the competition when faced with someone with a strong shield spell.

"That'll come as she grows up. Not that she hasn't already grown up nicely in the right spots." Sirius grinned at Harry. "You've certainly noticed that, eh?"

Harry closed his eyes, hoping Sirius would take it for fatigue rather than annoyance. He liked his godfather, and while he could be a pain at times, he didn't want to hurt the man who had spent a dozen years in Azkaban. He didn't want to talk about his best friend's body, or flexibility, or preferences in bed. Again. He still had those dreams from the first discussion. He needed to change the topic. "I still haven't gotten a date for the Yule Ball." Not that much of a change, granted, but it should at least get Sirius to talk about girls other than Hermione.

"Cutting it close, are you? You're risking that the best dates are gone if you wait too long. My godson can't go with an ugly one. I've got a reputation to live up to!" He grinned at Harry, and for a moment his expression reminded him of Sirius' dog form.

"I know, but… it's difficult." Harry looked at the stone floor, and drew a few circles made of red lines with his wand.

"It's not. Pick the best-looking girl outside Slytherin, ask her. If she turns you down, pick the next best-looking. One will say yes, and you have your date. That's what I did, and it worked perfectly! Oh, the memories..."

"I am in fourth, not sixth year, Sirius!"

"I was talking about my third year, Harry."

Harry hung his head, muttering something about dogs while Sirius laughed. Then his godfather clapped im on the back. "Trust me, you're overthinking it. It's just a ball. If it was that important, don't you think your lovely retainer would have made more of a fuss about it?"

Harry groaned. "She made charts for me, Sirius! Detailed the girls' appearance, personality, magical talent, grades, blood type, star sign and family influence. She even noted whether or not they'd be on their period at the time of the ball!" His godfather started to laugh so hard he almost fell from the couch. "It's not funny, Sirius! Obviously, she takes this very seriously…" His godfather laughed even harder, which stopped Harry. Blinking, he looked over to Remus and Hermione, who had stopped their duel, apparently some time ago, and were laughing as well. He slapped his face. "You're a really bad influence on her!"

Hermione came over and rubbed his back. "You needed to lighten up, Harry. Sirius was right, you've been overthinking this. The charts are fake, of course. Though as compensation I made a list of the girls I know are still hoping you'll ask them."

He snatched the parchment she held out and glanced at the names. There were not in alphabetical order, so she probably had listed them in order of preference. "Susan Bones?" He asked, reading the first name on the list.

"She's the niece of the head of the DMLE. She's pretty, comes from an old family and can hold her own in a conversation." Hermione explained, in a matter of fact manner. Maybe a bit too clinical, Harry thought. And Susan was, for lack of other living family members close enough to her aunt, in line to become Head of the Bones Family, so she was unable to marry another Head of Family. Like himself. Good choice.

He smiled warmly at his best friend. "I'll ask her first thing in the morning. Thank you." She beamed at him, until he added "And now we will pick a date for you." He grinned at the expression on her face while Sirius and Remus laughed. Did she really think she could prank him and he'd not get back at her?

*****​

"What?"

Hermione stared at the blonde witch. A quick glance to Harry, seated next to her at their usual corner of the table proved that she had not been hearing things; he was looking as surprised as herself.

"I asked you if you'd like me to ask Harry for permission to ask you to be my date for the Yule Ball, Hermione." Luna beamed at her, obviously not caring about their surprised reaction.

"Ah…" Hermione didn't know how to react. She hadn't put Luna on top of the list for Harry, or even near the top because the younger witch was so open and earnest in all she did, she had seemed a bad choice for a date of convenience that would not mean anything. Or so Hermione told herself. Now the Ravenclaw was asking to ask her? What did that mean? She looked at the blonde's best friend, Aicha, seated next to her, but that was no help. The dark-skinned witch was just smirking in amusement and seemed unwilling to help. And Ron, who knew Luna better, was off, eating with Padma Patil at the Ravenclaw table, while Ginny was likely waiting for Neville and still in their common room.

"Ah… why?" Harry had found his voice, but sounded not quite as sure of his words as he usually did. Fortunately, their usual privacy spells were in effect.

"Well, I want to go to the Ball since everyone is going. Aicha's going with Blaise, you're going with Susan, Ron with Padma, Neville with Ginny, and since I am in my third year, I need an older date to go. Hermione's free and old enough." Luna had been ticking off the pairings on her fingers, then took a bite from the scone she had been levitating near her. Hermione was about to nod in understanding. A date of convenience for two witches without dates. It made sense, and was a good reason. Before she could could voice her agreement and understanding, Luna continued. "And I think you're very pretty and I'd like to dance with you and get to know you better."

The way Luna smiled this was not a double-entendre, or flirting. Probably. Hermione realized that everyone was looking at her. "Ah, I'd like that, Luna. Thank you for asking to ask for permission to ask." Judging by the way Luna squealed in delight, that had been the right thing to say. Not that she could have turned the exuberant witch down anyway, not without feeling bad. Luna just got to one.

"Mister Potter, would you give me permission to ask your retainer, Miss Granger, to be my date for the Yule Ball? I promise to treat her well and will not endanger her virtue." The Ravenclaw's formal wording was contrasted by her buttering up her second scone while talking.

With a bemused smirk, Harry nodded. "You have my permission, Miss Lovegood."

"Thank you! Miss Granger, would you grant me the honor of being my date for the Yule Ball?"

Hermione nodded "The honor is mine, Miss Lovegood." Formality felt good, right now.

"Great! We can coordinate dress robes at Hogsmeade! It's a date!"

A date? Hermione looked at Harry, but her traitorous Patron was grinning widely. She glared at him, and then focused on her breakfast. Her parents would be surprised to hear she had a witch as date for the ball, though no more surprised than Hermione herself was, but it wasn't as if it Luna was interested in her that way. Or so she thought. Maybe. One never knew with Luna.

*****​

Harry Potter couldn't help but worry. Hermione, his best friend, was about to fight in the Dueling Competition of the Triwizard Tournament. As a Champion, he was banned from competing there, so he was reduced to watching her fight. And as his retainer, how she fared would reflect back on him. The irony of this reversal of their roles in the first task did not escape him, but didn't help his mood. Duels, as he knew from personal experience, always carried some risk with them. Even spells that were not classified as lethal could cause severe wounds, or death, under some circumstances. And Hermione would be facing tough opponents. He felt the urge to rush to her side, to help her, protect her from any danger, rise up inside him, and suppressed it. Again. He couldn't help her with this.

His friend was among the few younger students who were allowed to compete, thanks to her grades and performance in DADA. Ron was another, despite lower grades. But Remus knew he could handle himself in a duel. Malfoy was competing as well, thanks to Snape's influence and his family's money, or so Harry thought. Though maybe the Slytherin had received special training as well? They hadn't crossed wands this year, yet, so he couldn't dismiss that possibility. Most of the other competitors from Hogwarts were older, the best duelists among Hogwarts upper years. The toughest would be Flitwick's protégés. The visiting students were all participating, of course. They had come in the hope to be chosen as Champions, and so would be the best the other schools could offer.

In total 64 students would be starting. Six fights to win. He didn't expect Hermione to win, of course, but imagining it was a nice thing. She deserved to show up everyone. The competition would be taking the whole day, even though most duels would be quickly decided, and the lava field in the arena for the first task had been remodeled into a stone floor with four slightly elevated dueling circles, separated by powerful wards. Harry was sitting with the other two Champions in a special booth next to the judges. He had spotted more aurors present than at the first task, and was sure a few more were hidden among the spectators.

"I am sure 'ermione will perform to your complete satisfaction, 'arry." Fleur said, with her usual teasing smile, interrupting his thoughts. Krum made an agreeing noise.

"I know. I can't help but worry about her getting hurt. Duels are not a safe sport."

"Neither is Quidditch, n'est-ce pas?"

"Touché, Fleur." Hermione had been vocal in the past about having to watch Harry dodge bludgers and other players on the hunt for the golden snitch. And her reaction to him using the Wronski feint for the first time… He had learned a lot of new words that day. "I do not have to like it though." He sighed and settled in to watch the first fight starting. The magic of the arena allowed every spectator to observe the duels as if sitting right at the ring. At least Hermione would not be distracted by his reactions.

*****​

Hermione craned her neck while shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back. The heavy dueling robes she wore felt stiff and unnatural after getting used to robes that floated over her skin. She also felt very vulnerable without the protection spells she had woven into her personal robes. It couldn't be helped though - all duelists had to wear magic-free clothes to prevent people from using enchanted robes to cheat. She was waiting for her turn, against a 6th year from Durmstrang. Her lower lip had already borne the results of her nervousness. She knew she was a skilled witch, she had done well facing Lupin and Sirius, and yet she was nervous. Her opponent had two years more experience, more lessons on her, and came from Durmstrang, which had a quite deserved reputation of favoring combat spells, with less discrimination against dark spells than Hogwarts or Beauxbatons. And here she was, a mere muggleborn fourth year. A fact she counted on exploiting.

"Next fight in ring three: Hermione Granger, Hogwarts, versus Petar Draganov, Durmstrang!"

Hermione looked up. Her turn. While she stepped up to her starting position she studied her opponent. He was as tall and muscular as Krum, but had the same sneer as Malfoy. She took care to stumble when climbing up the stairs to the ring, and noticed Draganov was smirking. She took her place and faced him, hunching her shoulders a bit. His smirk widened. Good.

"Bow!"

She bowed, deeper than she would have normally. Let him think she was scared and intimidated.

"Wands ready!"

She raised her wand, in the "guard" position.

"Start!"

Hermione slashed her wand down, sending a cutting curse at her opponent while stepping to the side. A red stunner flew past her, and Draganov barely managed to shield her spell, eyes wide with surprise. Hermione was already casting a barrage of minor hexes, all hitting his shield, drawing his attention. She dodged the next stunner of his, and let a number of her next hexes miss deliberately. He grinned behind his shield. As planned. His next spell was an expelliarmus, which almost hit her. She had to drop to the floor to evade it. Rolling she came up in the classic dueling position - what Sirius called useless in the field - with her right side facing him and her wand arm pointing straight at him. Three more spells flew at Draganov, two impacting on his shield, which still held - unsurprisingly, those were weak hexes - the third passing him, before striking the stone right behind him, and exploding in a shower of stone shards. A few hit his legs, causing superficial, but painful wounds. His shield wavered and her next spell, a stunner, collapsed it and took him out.

"Winner by Incapacitation: Hermione Granger, Hogwarts!"

Hermione smiled widely wand raised, and bowed to her enervated opponent, who was shaking his head with a rueful grin before returning her bow. She spotted Harry wildly cheering for her, and beamed at him, before bowing into his direction.

*****​

"Next fight in ring two: Hermione Granger, Hogwarts, versus Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts."

Draco couldn't hide his glee. This was perfect - he would be able to teach the mudblood servant of his greatest rival her place! Beating the Beauxbatons boy - he had already forgotten his name - had been great, but this was better! Grinning, he swaggered to the duel ring, head held high. He was Draco Malfoy, scion of the Malfoy Family. Trained by his father and bloodied in real combat. Mere duels were almost beneath him, as his first fight had proven when his opponent had been defeated by one of his family spells that poisoned him through his weak shield and brought him to his knees with pain. He sent a smile towards his girlfriend, waving at her. She waved back, as she should.

The mudblood was facing him, her face showing that she had realized in what peril she was. He grinned savagely at her, savoring the moment. He had beaten a 6th year pureblood, granted, a French one, but what resistance could a mere mudblood offer to him after his experiences during the Summer?

"Bow!"

He inclined his head. That was as much of a bow as the mudblood deserved.

"Wands ready!"

His wand rose. He would not take her out right away. He'd hit her with a few spells first, make her bleed, before poisoning her.

"Start!"

The mudblood was fast, Draco had to admit. Fast, but weak - his shield had no trouble stopping her spells. And she couldn't cast a shield spell herself, so she had to dodge his spells, tiring herself out. Then a blue glow surrounded her, and stopped his jelly-leg jinx. He frowned. So she could shield. No matter. It was time to end this farce. A green cloud shot towards her, no shield would stop that. He grinned in anticipation when suddenly the cloud was coming back at him! Before he could react he was surrounded by the cloud. He had a brief moment to panic before pain filled him and he collapsed, screaming. His father had told him that compared to Crucio, this was nothing, but Draco couldn't imagine pain stronger than this. He barely heard the announcer over his own screaming.

"Winner by Incapacitation: Hermione Granger, Hogwarts!"

*****​

"Next fight in ring one: Hermione Granger, Hogwarts, versus Marie-Anne Dubois, Beauxbatons."

Hermione's next opponent was a slim girl, 7th year, with long, blonde hair. Not a veela, but she could pass for one with a few spells, the young witch noted with some jealousy. And judging from the way she eyed her, not one to underestimate a 4th year student either.

"Bow!"

Hermione bowed, deeply. She still was angry at the slight from Malfoy during their duel. But then, he had been shaking, screaming with pain until his father had come running in to cancel it. Hoisted by his own petard, served that git well. Ron had taken particular pleasure in the sight of Malfoy in pain, after his own defeat in his second fight against a 6th year student from Durmstrang.

"Wands ready!"

Hermione raised her wand and met the girls' eyes.

"Start!"

Unlike her tactics in the duel with Malfoy, here Hermione opted to strike as fast and hard as she could right away - she doubted she could outlast the other witch. Her first stunner was deflected by a shield. Her next spells were dodged. Her first trick would not work here, she realized, while dodging a series of bodybinders and stunners herself, shielding the last one, but with some trouble - the French witch was powerful. Before she could retaliate, a swarm of birds flew at her, and she barely managed to drive them away with the wind spell that had returned Malfoy's poison cloud at him. While she had been doing that though, Dubois had conjured more animals. Two great dogs charged her, and while she managed to drive one out of the ring with a bludgeoner, the other jumped at her, and dragged her to the ground. A piercing curse to the head took care of it, but the other dog was already returning, and an eagle was diving at her from the other side. For a moment she was tempted to use one of her custom spells, but… this was just a duel. Not a fight for her life.

Cursing, she dove forward, rolling to avoid the eagle, and cast the strongest stunner she could at her opponent. It was stopped by a shield, even though the shield itself broken, and then she screamed when the dog sunk his teeth into her left arm. The eagle struck at her shoulder, barely missing her head, and another dog appeared between her and the other witch. She tried to ignore the pain, focusing on her opponent, and cast another stunner, but the new dog jumped into it, and then she, the first dog and the eagle were pushed out of the ring by an expelliarmus, landing in a heap on the stone ground below. Just before she lost consciousness she heard the announcer.

"Winner by Ejection: Marie-Anne Dubois, Beauxbatons!"

*****​

Harry was watching Hermione in the infirmary, waiting for her to wake up. That last fight… seeing her mauled by those animals had been horrible. The wounds had been easily healed, the robe repaired, but the memories of her screaming, hurting, bleeding…

With a groan, his best friend woke up. "Hello Hermione." He smiled at her.

She smiled in return, then frowned. "I have underestimated the use of conjuration."

"You did well, reaching the best 16 as a 4th year student." He smiled. "And you didn't use your best spells."

"I couldn't. The rumors that would spread, the damage it would do to your reputation, and mine… I'll save those for a real fight." Hermione lifted her left arm, looking for scars, probably.

"There's no scarring." He reassured her.

"Did you check personally?"

Harry gaped at the implication. "No, no! The healer told me." He must have sounded very appalled at the question since she giggled a bit. His pout caused her to giggle some more.

"Who won the competition?"

"A witch from Durmstrang, Katarzyna Swiech I believe. I recorded her duel with Cedric Diggory with my Omniculars. You can watch it later. Your last opponent took 4th place."

Hermione nodded at that. "Some consolation, at least. I need more training."

"You'll get it. In three years you'll walk all over students like her."

Neither he nor his friend added 'if we're still alive by then', but both thought it.

*****​

Barty Crouch Jr. hummed a little ditty while spotting a particularly interesting tome, next to the cooling body of the tome's former owner. For such a weak wizard he had had a great collection of works dealing with the Dark Arts. Rather incomplete, though, but there were a few gems he hadn't know to have survived the purges in the 18th century. He was tempted to indulge his intellectual curiosity for a bit, but then reminded himself that he was here on his master's orders. Though stealing the books would likely serve as a good cover for his real goal; the rare and highly illegal ingredients the man had dealt with, and which were needed for his master's resurrection. Not that the fire he'd leave wouldn't consume all traces anyway, and probably burn down the next houses in the alley as well, but with a task so important, failsafes were a must. It would be a catastrophe should his master's enemies learn of his plans before he was returned to his rightful stature and power. Still humming a ditty he started to collect the potion ingredients he needed, storing them in his mokeskin pouch.


Chapter 6: The Yule Ball

 

[steamrick]

Fantastic as always. I always love 4th year fics where there's more to the Triwizard Tournament then the same three old tasks... of which two would be utterly boring to the observer.

 

[Ack]

Very, very good.

You're obviously putting a lot of thought into these.

I loved the bit with Luna asking Hermione as her date. It's so ... her.

And Hermione isn't quite sure if Luna swings that way, or not ... priceless.

Also, a couple of typos:

"Is it true that had so much trouble with mere pests, you had to run to the other Champions to save yourself?"

Click to shrink...

that you had

But we do not live like monks, nor do we have a stable of, ah, employes for such acts.

Click to shrink...

employees

 

[Starfox5]

Fantastic as always. I always love 4th year fics where there's more to the Triwizard Tournament then the same three old tasks... of which two would be utterly boring to the observer.

Click to shrink...

Thanks! I changed it to four tasks as well, to stick to an elemental theme, with three "team events" as side competitions between those events. So everyone of the visitors not chosen as Champion still gets to compete and show off.

Very, very good.

You're obviously putting a lot of thought into these.

I loved the bit with Luna asking Hermione as her date. It's so ... her.

And Hermione isn't quite sure if Luna swings that way, or not ... priceless.

Click to shrink...

Thanks! I corrected the typos. Hermione's 6th year will be interesting as well. She knows intellectually that 6th year is for casual exploration, but emotionally ... Harry is in a similar position, and he's got Sirius working on him. Lily, a Teenager in the 1970s, had it a bit easier.

 

[preier]

luna asking was funny but also done intelligently. very good luna.

liked the dynamics of the duels. interesting demonstrations of power vs skill vs "mental war"

regarding harry and hermione, you're really doing a good job of showing how the power imbalance
already screws their current relationship. still, they manage to tease one another and laugh.
makes you hope (in general, not for HP/HG in specific ^^)

question: the orgies are not, by ron's word, mandatory. what happens to students (both gender) who do not wish to partake?
would such a student be singled out? is there a risk or reality of peer pressure from the community?

thanks for sharing your stories

 

[Starfox5]

luna asking was funny but also done intelligently. very good luna.

Click to shrink...

Thanks! She's a difficult character to write, in my opinion, but I try to portray her as quirky, but smart. Thanks to Aicha she's also not as vulnerable as in canon, and hasn't retreated into her own world.

liked the dynamics of the duels. interesting demonstrations of power vs skill vs "mental war"

Click to shrink...

Indeed. tactics should play as much a role as skill and power. Though sometimes the gap in power and skill is just too big. Though those are duels, with rules and limited spell choices. Hermione would have fared far better in her own robes, and using all the spells at her disposal.

regarding harry and hermione, you're really doing a good job of showing how the power imbalance
already screws their current relationship. still, they manage to tease one another and laugh.
makes you hope (in general, not for HP/HG in specific ^^)

Click to shrink...

Thanks again. Their relationship has a lot of obstacles to overcome, but none are impossible.

question: the orgies are not, by ron's word, mandatory. what happens to students (both gender) who do not wish to partake?
would such a student be singled out? is there a risk or reality of peer pressure from the community?

Click to shrink...

Well, there's not supposed to be peer pressure, but such things happen. Sometimes involuntarily - at this point, most teenagers are still unsure about their sexuality, and some may lack the self-assurance to refuse offers from friends because they think that would be rude. And some creeps will of course try to exploit that. Like in our world. Generally those who just want to have fun will find no lack of partners, and are unlikely to go after those who seem not as enthusiastic. Though those who fixate on one specific person, for whatever reason, might have or create problems. Harry and Hermione though will have some trouble adapting. Imagine a teenage couple from say the 50s suddenly transported to Woodstock. For a year.

thanks for sharing your stories

Click to shrink...

Thanks!

 

[turbinicarpus]

Watching with interest, and reccing at every opportunity. The reimagining of the Potterverse is well thought out and changes that are often mishandled in fic --- like wizardly paganism --- are within bounds of good taste.

Other thoughts:

• I really like that you gave the non-Champions something to do during the Tournament.
• How does "magical power" work in this setting? Experience shows that it's something very few writers don't mishandle.
• I don't know about the portrayal of Draco... You're having him act as in canon, but in canon, he never had to face the consequences of his actions --- like Buckbeak and the infamous buttons in GoF --- until HBP, and even there, not as much as he deserved, so he never really learned. In your fic, he hasn't "won" a single verbal confrontation with Harry on-screen (or did I forget one?), and he keeps getting burned in those, yet he keeps coming back. Why?
  • Also, what's with the excessive British pride ("He had beaten a 6th year pureblood, granted, a French one")? Malfoy is a French name.
• Hermione really should do something about that lip-chewing habit. It's unseemly (and a little exaggerated).
• People referring to spells by their incantations rather than by their names seems off. For example (with suggested changes):
  • "His father had told him that compared to Crucio" → "His father had told him that compared to the Cruciatus Curse"
  • "His next spell was an expelliarmus" → "His next spell was the Disarming Charm"

My wild speculation is that the Patron Oath will probably be nullified at some point to facilitate a non-squicky HP/HG 'ship. My guesses as to how:

1. Death of the Patron:
   • That Hermione can be wagered (and that everyone seems to accept it) suggests that her retainership or even her client status can be transferred. What happens if it's transferred to someone about to die, who then dies?
   • If removing the Harrycrux (assuming it's present in this continuity), requires Harry to die (temporarily) as it had in canon, that might be enough to nullify the oath.
2. Equalization by additional oaths or contracts: if Harry gives Hermione as much power over himself as he has over her.

Now, all I need to do is to stop spelling "Patron" as "Patreon".

Edit: Typos.

 

[Starfox5]

Watching with interest, and reccing at every opportunity. The reimagining of the Potterverse is well thought out and changes that are often mishandled in fic --- like wizardly paganism --- are within bounds of good taste.

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Most British wizards in the story are as religious as the average North-European, meaning, they go through the motions during holidays, but they do not really believe there are gods. The switch back to the old gods was mostly done to spit in the Church's eye after the Witch Hunts. Though as was mentioned, there are some religious extremists.

Other thoughts:

• I really like that you gave the non-Champions something to do during the Tournament.

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It made no sense that the 20 brightest students from two schools would stay for a year and basically do nothing but for one chosen champion.

• How does "magical power" work in this setting? Experience shows that it's something very few writers don't mishandle.

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There won't be quantified scales for Magic Power, Magic Cores, Magic Indexes, or the like. But I assume the effect of a spell is both influenced by how well it is cast and by the power behind it, and in some cases by the aiming as well. A bit like striking with your fist - hit placement, technique and strength all play a role, though "power" is not as important for spellcasting as "strength" is in hitting stuff with your fist.

Either skill or power can compensate for lack of the other to some degree as well. I didn't want spells to be like bullets, where all that counts is aiming, each bullet hits with the same power once fire, that sounded too binary and game-like for my taste. The differences in power are generally not that big in this story. For the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort it doesn't really matter if their spells break through shields because they are powerful, or simply cast with far superiour skill, the effect is the same. Some spectators or targets will simply reduce it to "power" though, even if actually it was superb spell casting that carried the day, since it's easier on the ego to lose to someone with "more power" than to someone more skilled.

• I don't know about the portrayal of Draco... You're having him act as in canon, but in canon, he never had to face the consequences of his actions --- like Buckbeak and the infamous buttons in GoF --- until HBP, and even there, not as much as he deserved, so he never really learned. In your fic, he hasn't "won" a single verbal confrontation with Harry on-screen (or did I forget one?), and he keeps getting burned in those, yet he keeps coming back. Why?
  • Also, what's with the excessive British pride ("He had beaten a 6th year pureblood, granted, a French one")? Malfoy is a French name.

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Draco is an idiot and a bigot, stubborn and too proud for his own good. He loses against Harry in verbal matches, but it's not as bad as it could be. They are not equal - Harry is a head of Family (even if it's a rather poor one), he is the boy-who-lived, the slayer of Slytherin's Basilisk, youngest seeker in a century, and was just chosen as Hogwarts Champion (or so it looks to some). It's still not a good showing, and a smart wizard would have stopped trying long ago. If the French Champion hadn't been a veela, he might not scoff at them.
But the main reason he keeps getting into trouble with Harry? Snape protects him from the worst consequences, and Pansy plays him like a fiddle. Neither has realized though that Draco's a murderer already.

• Hermione really should do something about that lip-chewing habit. It's unseemly (and a little exaggerated).

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Most people have some habits they should do something about. Few do it.

• People referring to spells by their incantations rather than by their names seems off. For example (with suggested changes):
  • "His father had told him that compared to Crucio" → "His father had told him that compared to the Cruciatus Curse"
  • "His next spell was an expelliarmus" → "His next spell was the Disarming Charm"

Click to shrink...

I was under the impression those could be used exchangably.

My wild speculation is that the Patron Oath will probably be nullified at some point to facilitate a non-squicky HP/HG 'ship. My guesses as to how:

1. Death of the Patron:
   • That Hermione can be wagered (and that everyone seems to accept it) suggests that her retainership or even her client status can be transferred. What happens if it's transferred to someone about to die, who then dies?
   • If removing the Harrycrux (assuming it's present in this continuity), requires Harry to die (temporarily) as it had in canon, that might be enough to nullify the oath.
2. Equalization by additional oaths or contracts: if Harry gives Hermione as much power over himself as he has over her.

Click to shrink...

There is no magical ledger that automatically registers changes of status. If Viktor wins the tournament, Hermione is legally his retainer, but the oath won't get updated or transferred automatically. Magic doesn't care about such mundane deals, only about rituals.

Harry could release Hermione from the oath, but apart from the legal problems (muggleborns are required to have a Patron) and the loss of face if known in public (he basically would state she's not worthy to serve him) the life debt might not be satisifed and they would be back where they started, so to speak, with regards to their emotions being affected by magic. Or the oath might consider Harry to have failed his obligations towards Hermione (guide her, teach her, protect her so she will fit into the Wizarding World etc.) and he suffers the punishment for trying to avoid his duties.

With regards to the relationship:

Spoiler

The main issue is that Harry and Hermione, do not trust their own emotions. It's not actually certain that the Oath affects their emotions, they simply fear that it does. Hermione still is not too confident in her looks, which doesn't help. Overcoming that insecurity, trusting their own feelings, is one big task for a non-squicky relationship.
The power Harry has over Hermione is also an obstacle, but not as big as the first. It's mainly Harry not trusting himself (no thanks to Sirius) not to abuse it. Hermione trusts him not to abuse it, mostly that is. But if that power remained, it would become a bigger issue over time. The temptation is simply a bit too much, even counting the fact that either can work mind-Controlling Magic with their wand.
And then there's the status issue, another big problem. Actual magic power to order Hermione around aside, a retainer and his or her Patron would be facing a lot of problems as a couple. They cannot marry, so their children would be muggleborns, not purebloods. The retainer would be seen as the lover, mistress, etc., unless in a formal concubinage, and there would be a lot of pressure on the Patron to produce a pureblood heir. For Hermione, having children stuck as third-class citizens is unacceptable.

I am not going for a "no sex, no relationship until all issues are dealt with and we can have a relationship as equal partners in the eye of the law" cliche though, or for a 50 shades of Harry Potter variant where Hermione suddenly decides she likes being a sex slave to the rich pureblood.

But I am shooting for a happy ending, and for Hermione that includes not being a retainer anymore.

Edit: Also, Hermione being Harry's retainer is an advantage for her, it elevates her position in Society (if indirectly) and gives her far more opportunities (not the least being able to work magic when she wants to as a student) than having a Patron who is neither famous nor her best friend would give her.

 

[turbinicarpus]

Most British wizards in the story are as religious as the average North-European, meaning, they go through the motions during holidays, but they do not really believe there are gods. The switch back to the old gods was mostly done to spit in the Church's eye after the Witch Hunts. Though as was mentioned, there are some religious extremists.

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It works.

It made no sense that the 20 brightest students from two schools would stay for a year and basically do nothing but for one chosen champion.

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Yeah, and now that you've pointed that out via the fic, I cant unsee it. Thanks a lot!

[magic power]

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I guess the big question would be what determines how much magical "strength" someone has, and how it varies or changes over time.

But the main reason he keeps getting into trouble with Harry? Snape protects him from the worst consequences, and Pansy plays him like a fiddle. Neither has realized though that Draco's a murderer already.

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Interesting. Pansy may be playing with fire, here.

Most people have some habits they should do something about. Few do it.

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True. Beyond a certain point, it becomes a bit cartoonish, though, especially given how important Hermione considers her image and appearance in this continuity.

I was under the impression those could be used exchangably.

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They often are. IIRC, in canon, it's mostly by name, but a few instances of doing it by incantation. It's a matter of taste, perhaps, but to me, at least, the prose reads better when they are referenced by their names.

There is no magical ledger that automatically registers changes of status. If Viktor wins the tournament, Hermione is legally his retainer, but the oath won't get updated or transferred automatically. Magic doesn't care about such mundane deals, only about rituals.

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Separation and conflict between what's legal and what's magical --- interesting.

Spoiler: enspoilered stuff

I am not going for a "no sex, no relationship until all issues are dealt with and we can have a relationship as equal partners in the eye of the law" cliche though, or for a 50 shades of Harry Potter variant where Hermione suddenly decides she likes being a sex slave to the rich pureblood.

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Not a fan of much of Dramione fic, I take it?

But I am shooting for a happy ending, and for Hermione that includes not being a retainer anymore.

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I guessed as much; hence my speculation.

Edit: Also, Hermione being Harry's retainer is an advantage for her, it elevates her position in Society (if indirectly) and gives her far more opportunities (not the least being able to work magic when she wants to as a student) than having a Patron who is neither famous nor her best friend would give her.

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With Voldemort coming back and Dumbledore being more proactive, there might not be much of a Society left standing by the time the story is over.