Patron (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

[Starfox5]

I can buy the exchange rates between the coins, as long as the sizes vary accordingly. I have some troubles with the exchange rates to the pound, and the general pricing schemes in canon.

 

[Godwinson]

One thing that does help there is the fact that the magical and muggle economies are pretty badly decoupled, so it's entirely possible for the value of precious metals to be wildly different.

 

[Starfox5]

One thing that does help there is the fact that the magical and muggle economies are pretty badly decoupled, so it's entirely possible for the value of precious metals to be wildly different.

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As long as they have an exchange rate, someone will likely come up with a scheme to profit from the differences.

 

[Prince Charon]

I can buy the exchange rates between the coins, as long as the sizes vary accordingly. I have some troubles with the exchange rates to the pound, and the general pricing schemes in canon.

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That was pure 'JKR is bad at math', IMHO. You generally have to ignore some bits for others to make sense, just like the rest of canon.

As long as they have an exchange rate, someone will likely come up with a scheme to profit from the differences.

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The goblins, perhaps? It also helps that we don't know what percentage of a galleon is gold, nor how much of a sickle is silver. We don't even know how big the coins are supposed to be, unless we assume the movie coins are the correct sizes (in which case you just have to get a good estimate of the mass, and work out how much gold you'd need to ad to the mostly-copper coins to get five pounds to the galleon). It may be something else entirely, of course.

One thought I had was that the exchange rate was set in an earlier era, say around 1692 (date of the Statute of Secrecy), and just never changed, with the goblins profiting off the difference, somehow.

 

[macdjord]

I have given up on that, since the canon plot does not work with competent characters. Dumbledore is the best example of that - his plans and actions are just too damn stupid, and the plot rails are the reason for it. In his testament he gives cryptic hints to the trio that they may decypher and some weird items that the Ministry might not confiscate - although none of that would have been needed if he had given them the gear and explanation before he died, no Ministry meddling that way since it was a gift, not an inheritance, and they'd not even know about it. Also, his last year was wasted "teaching" Harry about Voldemort's pat - the grand sum of information he could have learned in one afternoon. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

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Yeah, that's the sort of thing I try to stay hopeful about. You can find decent explanations for most of the problems if you try.
The bequests? He knew he was going to die, but he didn't know it was to happen that night; maybe he had planned to give them directly before the end, and only left them in the will as a backup. Or maybe, having put those in his will as bequests, he worried that giving those exact gift to those exact people shortly before his death would clue people in that he was expecting to die, which would screw up quite a lot of his planning. Or he could have set the bequests knowing they would be interfered with, so that the people behind the blocking would think they had foiled his posthumous plans when in fact he intended all along to have Snape complete the deliveries.
As for his lessons with Harry before his death, I'd need to take another look at Half Blood Prince before I analyzed them in any detail, but I will point out that 'Know your enemy' is one of the first pieces of advice in just about any book of strategy; I don't think it's unreasonable that Dumbledore at least thought what he was showing Harry was important.

---

Another possibility is that you simply cannot exchange the coins at metal value; they are protected by laws and/or spells against being melted down (and the Statute of Secrecy prohibits them from being sold to muggles as-is). Since Gringotts is the only bank, they have an effective monopoly on converting muggle currency, and thus can set whatever rate most benefits them. By setting the exchange rate so low, they discourage wizarding investment in the muggle economy, while the muggle economy can't take advantage of this since they don't know it exists. Thus Gringotts effects to further decouple the wizarding and muggle economies, which increases their power and wealth, first because of their position as the bottleneck between the two, and second by keeping wizarding money in the wizarding world where they dominate and can take their cut at every step, instead of letting it out into the muggle world where there would be actual competition.
Meanwhile, the people who actually deal in precious metals directly have their own price ratios, which are completely unrelated to those set by Gringotts and a lot closer to what they are in the muggle world. (Occasionally you get members of the more insular parts of the wizarding world raving about the 'ludicrous' prices these 'shysters' demand - 500 galleons for one galleon's worth of gold*! Before taxes and fees!)

* Based off 100g of gold in a galleon, 25 British pounds per gram of gold, 5 British pounds to the galleon.

 

[Starfox5]

How would anyone know what he was giving them and when? Pure stupid plot devices there which end up ruining Dumbledore further. Same for his lessons - worthless and a waste of time making him appear stupid but serve the exposition of Tom's background.

I wish JKR had chosen different solutions to create tension and suspense.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 10: The Fourth Task: Earth

Hermione and the other still standing competitors watched while Anton Iliev received the winner's reward - a purse filled with galleons, traditionally cursed as well, and an invitation to spend a month at the main curse-breaking camp Gringotts ran in Egypt, where he would be studying the work done there. After another round of applause in response to the Bulgarian's words of thanks, Hermione was finally free to mingle with her friends and family.

She smiled as she spotted Harry walking towards her, but before he reached her, she was almost bowled over by an enthusiastic blonde witch who hugged her. "Hermione! That was great! Seeing you fight a cursed robe was so exciting - do you think it was jealous that you did not enchant it with the spells you know?"

"Huh?" Hermione was caught off-guard in more ways than one, having stumbled when Luna had all but tackled her, and understanding her friend took a bit of an effort even without having focused on curses for so long. "I don't think so. It's not as if it was alive."

"Aw. But maybe the right spells would have placated it anyway. Or made it come alive. That's how Lethifolds were created, you know." Luna released her just in time for a smirking Harry and a smiling Aicha to arrive, and put a finger on her nose, pondering a second. "Maybe it was a good thing you didn't." She nodded sagely, but with a smile that made it impossible to tell if she was serious or not. Though Hermione couldn't help but think about what kind of spells she knew that could have countered the curse on the enchanted robe. Maybe a variant of the floating garment charm would have prevented it from latching onto her? And if it had been transfigured into an animal, would that have broken the curse?

Harry's cough broke her train of thoughts, and she hastily bowed to him - they were in public. "My Patron."

"My Wand." He was smirking still, and Luna was craning her neck and patting Hermione's back, to check if she had caught any curses, or so the blonde claimed. "That was impressive, Hermione. You made the final round."

Hermione beamed, happily. "With some luck. I almost was too slow in the second round."

"You didn't get hurt, and that's the most important thing." Luna rapidly nodded several times at her own words.

"Luna's right. For a curse-breaker, how fast you are at breaking curses matters much less than how good you are it. Speed only matters for counter-curses, though from what I saw, you are quick on your feet." Hermione turned towards the man who had just spoken, and her eyes widened. He was impressive. Tall, but not lanky, red hair, long, tied back in a ponytail, battered looking robes that nevertheless were bristling with protective enchantments, if she interpreted the sigils on them correctly, and cut in a way to allow him as much freedom of movement as possible, while still covering his body from neck to dragonhide boots. A roguish grin on his handsome face, and a fang dangling from an ear. Impressive and attractive, she noted. Then she noted Ron standing next to him, rolling his eyes, as well as Ginny, and she spotted the resemblance.

"You must be William Weasley." Normally it would have been a faux-pas to address him before Harry had done so, but he had addressed her first.

"You're as sharp as Ron and Harry told me. Call me Bill." He offered his hand, and when Hermione reached out to shake it - refusing that would have been a clear offense - he turned it into a kiss on her hand. She couldn't help but blush. Tall, handsome, skilled - former head boy - and charming.

"William Weasley." Harry's greeting was a tad more formal than Hermione would have expected; they had met before after all.

"Harry Potter." Bill returned the greeting with the exact same amount of formality, but clear amusement visible in his eyes. Hermione felt a sudden if slight annoyance at his attitude towards her Patron. Harry may have been just 14 years old, but he was the head of his family, and a Triwizard Tournament champion, and her Patron. "Your retainer gave an excellent showing in the competition. Truly impressive, especially given how much older the vast majority of her competitors were. You must be very proud of her." With proper decorum and respect shown - Bill was smooth - Hermione's annoyance was replaced by pride again.

"I am." Harry stepped a bit closer to Hermione. "Though she truly excels in spellcrafting."

Whatever Bill had been about to answer was cut short by Luna jumping into his arms. "Bill! Have you shrunk? You look and feel smaller than last time we saw each other!"

"Luna! That's because you have grown." Bill laughed, and twirled her around once, then set her down. She promptly started to poke him, claiming to check if he had still all parts. For a moment Hermione was jealous, then she laughed with the rest of the group. Luna introduced Aicha as well, who bowed to Bill, and her genie, who flitted around the wizard and tried to grab the fang dangling from his ear.

"I do hope you liked the last round, some of my finest work, if I do say so myself. How far did you get there?" Bill turned to her again, ignoring the blonde witch trying to look into his pockets.

"I reached the third box, the shiny golden one." The slightly pranking impression she had gotten from the boxes made sense, she realized.

"Ah. An interesting one. How did you get through the earlier ones?" He grinned at her.

Hermione ignored the way everyone but Luna and Bill frowned a bit, and started to explain what she had done.

*****​

Harry didn't really like Bill Weasley at the moment. Not at all, if he was honest. The too-handsome curse-breaker was monopolizing Hermione's attention. She was his friend, and his retainer. It was rather rude of an outsider to butt in when Harry had wanted to talk with her about the competition. Even if he didn't know as much about curse-breaking as the red-headed rake did, he knew far more about his friend. And Ron and Ginny were doing nothing! Didn't Ginny care that Bill was ignoring her? Harry knew she idolized her oldest brother, and had been very sad that Bill had chosen a career outside Britain. He glanced at her, trying to convey his annoyance with the situation, but when their eyes met, she simply smiled widely at him. Traitor.

Ron wasn't doing anything either, but at least he was glaring at his brother. And Luna… well, she wouldn't see the problem. And Aicha had no stake in this. Harry tried to tell himself that he should be glad Hermione was having fun talking about curse-breaking, but it was not working. He really wanted Bill doing anything but talking to Hermione right now.

Then he spotted a solution, of sorts. "Have you met my fellow champions yet, Bill?" Harry interrupted a far too smooth tale about a particularly dangerous trap in some old tomb that made Bill appear both modest and impressive, and pointed to Viktor and Fleur.

"No, I haven't yet have the pleasure…" Bill turned towards the direction Harry was pointing at, and his eyes widened when he spotted Fleur. Perfect.

"Let me introduce you then." Harry ignored the glare Hermione was sending him, and the guilt at ruining her fun, while he led the eldest of the Weasley sons over to meet the French veela. And the Bulgarian wizard too. "Viktor, Fleur? May I introduce Bill Weasley? He is a curse-breaker from Gringotts, and was responsible for the final challenge of this competition."

Bill was as smooth greeting Fleur as he had been when he met Hermione, no even smoother. The two seemed to hit it off, even. Harry smiled, satisfied. When he turned to Hermione he realized everyone but Luna and Aicha, who were both smirking, and Viktor, who was politely listening, was frowning at him. What had he done now?

*****​

Draco was still sulking about Granger not getting cursed during the competition. Pansy could have told him Granger was playing it safe and not taking risks, but he wouldn't have listened anyway. At least it meant he was not talking too much, and most of what he was saying could be safely ignored. That at least had not changed. Other things though, had. Draco's recent victory in that "dueling lesson" had increased his standing among those who had not realized that his enchanted robes had made him win, not his skill.

Fools, Pansy thought. On the other hand, outside a dueling tournament, only a fool would dismiss such protective enchantments when assessing an opponent. And any Slytherin worth his or her salt knew that the only competition that counted was the one outside the tournaments and their rules.

Draco, with her on his arm and his two "friends" following them, made his way through the crowd after the competition. By now all of those who had failed to deal with the curses had returned from the Infirmary - with such set-pieces, removing a curse was easy for the healers since they knew the exact spells and their counter spells in advance.

She nodded to Tanya Ricklebern, one of the Slytherins who had taken part in the competition. "Well done, Miss Ricklebern. Reaching the second round is quite the achievement." Pansy smiled sweetly. She almost meant it - Ricklebern was a fifth year, and even counting the fact that most Slytherins from old families had at least some experience with curses by the time they recovered from their first visit to the family home's attic or cellar, it was impressive. Would have been, if not for Granger, of course. Judging by the slightly forced smile when Ricklebern thanked her for the compliment, the other witch knew it as well. Outdone by a 4th year mudblood, and one who did not really focus on curse-breaking… Pansy felt like shaking her head. Though in a twisted way she was glad for that as well - Granger showing up older students made her showing up Pansy and the others in her year more tolerable. In their first year, the older students of their House had scorned Pansy and her year mates for doing worse in class than the mudblood. That had stopped once Granger started showing up the older students as well.

Draco of course couldn't help speaking his mind. "Half the students reached the second round. Some families might accept mediocrity, but who would consider it an achievement to do as well as half the crowd?" Pansy felt like hexing him.

Putting on her best vapid smile, she answered as if she had not understood that Draco had meant to ask a rhetorical question. "She was only two places behind Granger in the first round." That shut Draco up, and made Ricklebern smile more honestly.

Unfortunately, it also made Draco complain about Granger again. "To think that that mudblood progressed so far. Truly, things have only gotten worse in the last decade. It is high time someone does something about this before Britain completes its slide into barbarism." He glared at the floating tray with drinks and finger food as if it was the cause of it.

Pansy was more than a bit disturbed hearing him talk like this. He was doing this more and more frequently. Usually she'd not care much, Draco loved to talk, but at the end of that duel, Draco had been about to cast something, but had stopped. And while he had told her all the spells he had cast, in detail, multiple times, he had never mentioned what that spell would have been. Not even an off-hand remark about how he had graciously spared his opponent further humiliation or pain, or something like that. Pansy didn't know what spell Draco had planned to cast, but she knew she didn't like the implications of her "boyfriend" not boasting about it.

*****​

The evening of the day of the curse-breaking competition saw another concert in the arena, this time with the Weird Sisters. Hermione knew they were an up and coming band of witches, though how much of that was due to their talent, and how much was due to lack of competition was hard to say. They were not bad, she knew that from listening to them on the Wizarding Wireless - Lavender was a big fan - but also quite eccentric. For an entire year they had exclusively performed while polyjuiced into wizards.

The arena would packed, especially the flat part where the audience could dance. Due to the strict security measures, it would take a long time until everyone was inside the arena, but since Harry was a champion, and a target, he and his friends could enter right away - standing outside in the middle of a crowd was deemed to be too dangerous, for Harry, and for anyone around him. One good thing in this mess, Hermione thought.

Though it also meant they had a long time to spend waiting, but at least it was with snacks and drinks, and in the semi-privacy of the Champion's Lounge. Semi-private since while it was reserved for the champions and their friends and families, acquaintances of course could visit, if only for a short time without being rude. In Hermione's opinion Daphne Greengrass had crossed the line into being rude just by entering. It wasn't as if she was on friendly terms with anyone inside. Throwing that into her face, much less throwing her out, would have been a faux-pas though. Feuds had been started over less.

Hermione still had to fight not to audibly groan when the blonde idiot started to flirt with Harry. Or attempted to. "I have to say, Mister Potter, your retainer's performance exceeded all expectations. You've done so well as her Patron, it's unbelievable." Hermione tensed up - what was unbelievable? It wasn't as if Harry had taught her curse-breaking! - when she felt a hand on her back. Harry was slightly to the front of her so… a glance confirmed that it was Luna, smiling at her.

"Try the dirigible plums? They are so sweet, they'll float into your mouth." The blonde witch pushed a few floating fruits at her. Hermione opened her mouth to politely decline, and found one of them on her tongue before she could utter a word. They were very sweet, at least, and Luna looked happy.

The plums had distracted her though, so she had apparently missed Greengrass leaving. Susan was standing close to Harry and smirking at the Slytherin's back, so she probably had sent her away. Hermione was not as happy about that as she should have been.

A bit away, Fleur was talking to Bill, as she had done since the two had met hours ago, when Harry had so rudely broken into a most fascinating discussion of curse-breaking. Though talking was the wrong word. Hermione was not even sure if the two were still flirting, or if Fleur had started to court the wizard, as French witches and wizards did when looking for an affair, or more. Hermione was not too experienced in such matters; the books she had read were notoriously vague on the finer points of romance and courtship.

Maybe she should try some French books? Lavender had offered to let her read some of hers, but those were the magical versions of steamy romance novels, with asinine plots and characters. And the one the other witch had put into her hands, 'In the Sultan's Harem', had not looked like it would contain any useful information about the customs of western european countries. So she had handed it back, but not after changing the hair color of the slave girl on the cover from a chestnut brown that looked suspiciously like her own hair color when she used her favorite styling charm into a color that exactly matched Lavender's locks. If the witch wanted to get back at her for the Yule Ball she had to try harder.

"You're cute when you're jealous." What? Luna was grinning at her.

"Who would I be jealous of?" Hermione retorted.

"That's a good question, Hermione. When you find out, tell me?"

Hermione covered her lack of response up by fetching another drink and a snack. She knew she didn't like it when a girl got too close to Harry, but that was the Patron Oath influencing her, making her afraid of getting replaced as his closest friend.

*****​

"So, what is this I hear about Malfoy being skilled now?" Ron was sitting in the unused classroom they had taken over as a training room, and checked how much was left in his bottle of butterbeer by holding it up against one of the lights hovering near the ceiling. Harry summoned one for himself. He couldn't stand pumpkin juice, but butterbeer was good.

"Rumor is - and I heard this from Parvati, mind you, so it went through a few students already - that he won against a 6th year Slytherin student in one of their duels they pass off as 'studying' or 'training'. Won without trouble, even." Hermione explained without looking up from the book on magic plants she was reading. She was making notes about potential obstacles in the last task. For him.

"Any details on how he managed that?" Harry frowned. Malfoy was an idiot. A rich idiot, but an idiot nevertheless. He shouldn't be able to best a student two years his senior, unless that student was an idiot as well. Granted, there was no shortage of those in the school. "And who did he beat?"

"Wilkins." Hermione was still not looking up, but this made Ron pay more attention.

"Wilkins is not half-bad. For a Slytherin." Harry's friend emptied his bottle. "I've seen him dueling before. Malfoy is worse."

"That might have changed. Or Malfoy got lucky."

"That's always a possibility. But I think the rumors would not be spreading that much if it had just been luck." Hermione closed her book, finally paying attention.

"What else would it be? Robes do not make that much of a difference." Ron summoned a sandwich, which he kept floating in front of his mouth, taking a bite out of it without using his hands. Harry grinned at the sight - his friend would never dare doing that at the Burrow.

"Most robes do not. But if you spend enough money, you can buy some really good protection. Especially against the sort of spells people use in duels where they do not want to kill their opponent. I've been looking into that, in order to work on duplicating it." Hermione frowned at Ron's display, and summoned a glass and a pitcher of water for herself.

"Merlin's balls, just what we needed - Malfoy's money mattering even more." Ron added a few more colorful curses under his breath. Harry was tempted to do the same, but Hermione would not appreciate that. She was still a bit miffed about his handling of the 'Bill intrusion', as he liked to think of it. Harry had asked Sirius for the latest book on curse-breaking, to mollify his retainer. Expensive, but then, she was worth it. And not just because she was likely to use her knowledge to save him.

"I can probably match or exceed whatever protections he has on his robes over the summer, unless his father hired one of the enchanters doing custom work." Case in point, Harry thought.

"And if he has hired one of those?"

"Then I'll surpass it next year." Hermione smirked confidently.

"So, we need to take that into account when we train. Spells that bypass, ignore or go through protective spells." Ron looked at Hermione. As expected, she nodded.

"I've made a list of such enchantments to help improve our own protections." She dug in her mokeskin pocket, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "The general tactic is to either overload them, which breaks them, temporarily disable them, or use spells that ignore them."

No one mentioned the Unforgivables, but Harry was sure every one of them thought about them.

"The thing is, there are limits for all protection spells. They don't work that well with each other, and some need quite the fine-tuning to help more than hinder. Otherwise your spell will stop a bludger from knocking you over, but also slow you down when you want to drop to the floor to dodge a spell." His friend explained while pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear in a very distracting manner.

"So, if we play it right we can arrange it so that Malfoy gets defeated by his own robe?" Ron was grinning broadly. Harry had to agree, this was a most promising possibility.

"If we play it right we'll not fight him at all." Hermione of course had to spoil their fun. "We've got more important things to worry about than Malfoy."

That Harry had to agree with. The last task was coming up. He'd be facing Earth-themed foes - plants, burrowers, elementals - and traps of all kinds, in a cave or underground labyrinth. And he had barely more than a month and a half left to prepare. Hermione hadn't been able to think of a spell she could craft to help him there, but she had found plenty of spells he could learn.

*****​

"No." Hermione stated firmly. She would not give in. No matter what.

"But Hermione! It would fit you perfectly!" No matter how much Luna whined and begged. "Look!" Luna held up the latest spring robe she had picked out in the shop in Hogsmeade. 'Spring robe' only in a loose sense of the word - it was closer to a bathing suit than a robe, at least from the amount of fabric it used, in Hermione's opinion. A skimpy bathing suit.

"It consists of a few scraps of fabric floating in place. Small scraps of thin fabric."

"And a cape!"

"A transparent cape." Hermione crossed her arms under her chest and raised her chin. Luna caved in. Sort of.

"This would fit you perfectly!" It had more fabric. It also looked like a low-cut cocktail dress more than anything else. A cocktail dress that barely reached her thighs, with spaghetti straps and wandering, growing and shrinking holes in the fabric. On the other hand, she had nice legs, she knew that, and this would draw attention to them. And the wandering holes could be enchanted to make sure nothing embarrassing was revealed. It would just take a bit of tweaking. Hermione studied the garment, almost missing the grin on Luna's face.

"You wanted this robe from the start." She stared at her friend, narrowing her eyes.

"Uh uh." Luna just smiled, and picked another of those robes for herself. "We can enchant it to match colors again!"

Hermione had to smile - Luna's enthusiasm and bubbly personality was hard to resist. And it was fun, she had to admit. And if she was honest with herself the young witch had to admit she wanted to see how her friends, how Harry, reacted to that robe. On that thought… "How much was the other robe?" She grinned at the look of surprise on Luna's face, a very rare sight.

*****​

May had finally brought temperatures warm enough to allow swimming in the Black Lake without too many warming charms. As was to be expected half the school had taken to spend the afternoons at the shore of the lake, or in the lake. Some were studying under a tree, some were sunbathing, many were swimming or taking a break from swimming. A number were jumping from floating platforms or from brooms. Harry was seated under a tree himself, a book on stone manipulating spells on his lap. He should be preparing for the next, the final task, but he hadn't turned a page in the last 30 minutes. The weather was too nice, the lake too inviting, and the sights too appealing.

A shriek and laughter made him turn his head. Another illusionary bathing suit had been hit with a finite. Judging by the age of the students in the group there, and the lack of nasty hexing in retaliation, that finite had not been entirely unwanted or unplanned for, and the illusion hadn't just been chosen because swimming without a stitch of actual fabric on was more comfortable. Sixth years, showing off.

"Have you been waiting long for us?" Hermione's voice made him turn his head away from the sixth years and towards his friend with such speed he almost hurt his neck. Had she noticed? She was smirking, so she had. Then he noticed what she was wearing - a dress that just about stopped where her thighs started, and looked so thin that the slightest breeze would lift it, if not blow it away completely, given how many holes it already had… he coughed, and looked at the lake instead of at his friend.

"Not long. Half an hour or so. What took you so long?"

"We had to decide on our bathing costumes." Luna answered for the two of them. Three, Aicha arrived as well. "Where's Ron?"

"Ron's already in the water, with Neville." Harry pointed at the two, using brooms to fly up to the highest of the platforms.

"Showing off for Padma, I see." Hermione's voice sounded amused and satisfied. Harry wasn't sure if that was just because she liked Padma - or if she liked Parvati fuming about that particular couple.

"And for Ginny." Luna added. "Neville I mean."

Harry turned his attention back to the three girls, just in time to catch Hermione slipping out of her dress. He stared. His best friend was wearing nothing but an illusion. She was not actually showing more skin than anyone else at a muggle beach, but to think the only thing hiding her body was a flimsy illusion, so easily dispelled with a flick of his wand… his second thought was to tell her to wear something more resistant to finites. He didn't, of course. She'd have hexed him for that. His third thought was that he was glad he had a book on his lap.

"I am headed into the water myself then, I am feeling a bit hot." Hermione slowly walked down to the lake. Harry's eyes seemed glued to her, he barely noticed Luna and Aicha following his retainer. When she finally started swimming he leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes, and tried to drown out the voice of Sirius that told him that girls wearing that kind of swimming costumes were asking for a finite. Hermione wasn't like that. And she'd kill him if he tried anything. He still feared her reaction, should she ever find out what exactly Sirius had done to prank her and Harry and Yuletide.

"Hi Harry." Susan sat down next to him. She was wearing a sensible robe, at least.

"Hi Susan. Are you going to swim as well?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't feel well enough."

"Oh. Shouldn't you see Madam Pomfrey then?" She sent a look at him that made him shut up. He didn't know what gaffe he had committed, but he knew better than to ask further. So he looked at the lake, at his friends, at Hermione swimming and laughing. He wanted to join them, but he didn't want to leave Susan all alone when she was not well enough to swim. Instead the two of them chatted. Or rather, Susan filled him in with the latest gossip while he kept an eye on his retainer, and made agreeing noises from time to time.

Finally, Hermione stepped out of the lake again, and started towards him. Then suddenly her bathing costume disappeared! Harry was on his feet, his book falling to the ground, and had drawn his wand before he realized his friend was not naked, but wearing a bikini. He blinked. He was sure she had not been wearing that before. Hermione kept walking, after throwing a glance at whoever had cast the finite. Harry was still staring when she reached his spot and dried the bikini with her wand.

"A disillusion charm on the bikini, tied to the illusionary bathing costume. I got the idea after the curse-breaking competition." Hermione explained, with a proud smile. Harry beamed at her. That was his girl!

"That was clever." Susan nodded at Hermione, who smiled at her.

"Thank you. I think it was Lavender, she had a really shocked look on her face, and her wand in hand. I am not sure though. It could also have been Parvati, or someone else." Judging from the way her smile turned from proud to slightly evil, Hermione was planning to find out, and then retaliate. Harry really did not want to be in the place of whoever had tried to expose her. Once again he hoped she'd never find out what Sirius had done.

He collected his book and sat down again. He could handle Hermione in a bikini. Or so he thought, until Hermione leaned over and whispered into his ear: "We should work on desensitizing you, Harry. Proper purebloods do not react that strongly to nudity in public." He gaped at her, until she giggled.

Huffing, he hid behind his book for a while. Girls!

*****​

Hermione wiped some sweat from her brow. Helping Harry to prepare for the last task was exhausting. With the expected set-up - an underground labyrinth filled with traps and monsters - there was no single spell to give him an edge. Or rather, she had not been able to think of one. A spell to travel through the earth had come to mind at first, but she hadn't been able to find a way to achieve that. Most spells that allowed to travel through earth resulted in such slow movement, braving the labyrinth would be faster, and not that much more dangerous, given that she had not found a way to see through the earth and spot traps and monsters in advance either. Harry had agreed with her that they should focus on learning and training with existing spells. Which was why she was now getting put through her paces, in an impromptu training session apart from the regular ones with Sirius and Remus. Professor Lupin, she corrected herself.

At least she had found an obscure spell that would help Harry find his way through the maze - Minotaur's Bane was it called. And she had collected a lot of information about typical opponents champions had faced in the last tasks of past tournaments. She still felt she was letting Harry down, even if he had told her he would never have come as far as he had without her. But as his retainer, she had to, needed to help her Patron. The thought of him getting hurt due to her failing him… it hurt.

She summoned a glass of water and watched Harry hold his shield up while Ron pelted it with stunners and other spells. She wasn't sure if it would be a blessing or a curse that she would not be able to watch Harry's progress through the task this time. She wouldn't see him getting hurt, but she'd worry even more, not knowing how he was faring. Sighing, she got up again and banished the glass. Putting a smile on her face even though she didn't really feel like, she joined her two friends again.

*****​

The last "Champions' Evening" before the fourth task was different from the others, Harry thought. The camaraderie the champions had shared ever since the first task was still there, as was the friendship that had grown from that. And yet there was a nostalgia present that affected them all. This was the last time they'd meet like this, before a dangerous task. After the task they wouldn't be the three champions anymore. One of them would be the Triwizard Tournament Champion. And the two others would be the ones who didn't win. The losers, in other words. He supposed he shouldn't feel bad, should he lose. Beaten by Viktor Krum or Fleur Delacour, both three years his senior and the champions of their schools, shouldn't be too bad. But to lose, even if only temporarily, ceremonially, Hermione…

Harry raised his glass, filled with a cola he had gotten for the occasion, to his fellow champions. He didn't say anything, but since they too raised their glasses - wine in their case - and had the same grim and challenging expression on their face he was sure he had as well, he guessed they understood. They drank in silence. Ron looked confused but Hermione was frowning at him, before she raised her own glass.

"To safely finishing this tournament, and a final task without any incident or sabotage!" The way she glared him, there would be an incident right there and then should Harry not agree. So he did. Even though her toast needed a lot of work. But that was his Hermione, as he… liked her. As her Patron, oath-bound. He had asked himself if they would be as close without that oath, without the life debt, but he had never been sure if he wanted to know the answer. If all his feelings towards her were the result of such magic… or, worse, the feelings he hoped she had...

After this chastisement, the rest of the evening was spent in a less competitive mood, though the melancholy remained. Things would not be the same again, for better or worse. Though if Harry was honest, not having to worry about losing Hermione, or about sabotage of a tournament he shouldn't be participating in in the first place, would be a good thing indeed.

He patted Hermione's thigh and filled his glass again, smiling at her surprised and then confused expression. He leaned over to her, and whispered. "I'll not lose you, not even for a second." She blushed, then glared at him, but he thought her heart was not in it. Not completely, at least.

*****​

Albus Dumbledore was standing at the window in his office, looking out. It was a bit unusual for him these days, or years. Fawkes was making inquiring noises behind him, so he turned to his companion of so many decades. "I am just enjoying the scenery, Fawkes." When the phoenix cocked his head in what Albus had come to recognize as doubt, he added "and thinking about young Harry." At that the phoenix lost what interest he had had, and started to groom himself. Albus chuckled. It was true that Harry was often on his mind, especially these days.

The boy, no, the young man, had been faced with yet another calamity, and had risen to the occasion, as he had done so often in the past already. The young man and his friends, first and foremost among them Miss Granger. And since the Yule Ball Harry's date, Miss Bones, had become a good friend of his as well. And maybe more - which presented Albus with a possible problem.

Miss Granger was of crucial importance for Harry, as the tournament so far had proven. If what he suspected was true, then the young wizard would need her support even more in the future. And Albus was not sure if Miss Bones' growing friendship was about to threaten that. If Amelia's niece was seeking just friendship, then she'd be a boon to Harry. But if she was looking for something more, if she was looking to become young Harry's lover… Miss Granger was already not likely to easily accept becoming Harry's mistress while he took a wife, although he thought her pragmatism would win out over her pride. But to share his heart with someone else… Albus shook his head. She'd never accept that. If Miss Bones was aiming for something more than friendship with Harry, this would put a strain on the relation to Miss Granger. Either relation.

He returned to his desk and summoned a lemon drop. The Year of Discovery would be bad enough for the two young students' relationship, without additional complications. But interfering would make matters worse, much worse. It usually did, when teenagers were involved. His own experiences, both as a teenager and as an adult, had proven that.

The enchantment on his office doors informed him that someone was coming up the stairs. Alastor, a look at the small mirror on his desk confirmed. "Good day, Alastor. Lemon Drop?"

"No thanks." His friend sat down on the chair in front of his desk, which automatically adjusted to provide more comfort. "I caught one of the tournament staff trying to poison the champions' robes."

"Imperiused?" Albus had expected such a ploy. The day of the last task was the best opportunity for such attempts, with so many guests and staff arriving in the morning. The gruff old auror nodded.

"Aye. The Thieves' Downfall caught him."

Every galleon the Ministry was paying the goblins for that had been worth it, Albus thought, satisfied. Cornelius had balked at the cost at first, but the thought of having a champion, much less the Boy-Who-Lived, dying on his watch had made him see reason. And yet… "One would think that our saboteur would have been a bit more clever than to rely on that."

Alastor nodded. "Right again. The replacement robes we got from Madam Malkin's were already trapped." He pointed at his artificial eye. "Even with this I almost missed it. There were runes expertly hidden inside the fabric."

"Oh? What was their effect?" Albus loved discovering new spells or other feats of magic, and even circumstances such as these only dampened his enthusiasm, but did not remove it.

"Don't know, don't care right now. The robes were supposed to be free of any enhancements, so there shouldn't have been any runes. You can sort the things out after the tournament - but it might be a trap for you. Our saboteur certainly would be able to plan that far ahead. The bugger has a twisted mind." Alastor sounded almost approving.

"I will be careful. You have taken other measures to reduce the chance of similar traps." It was no question, Albus knew his friend well.

"Aye. Replaced whatever we could spare with conjured things. The stakes stand, the chairs, most of the judges' lounge. I'd have replaced the robes with conjured ones as well, but the organizers balked." He scoffed. Albus understood that decision - in such tasks, the students often had to resort to finites to cancel spells affecting them, and to see their clothes disappear would not make a good impression on the guests of Hogwarts. "So I got clean robes from my own tailor."

"Very well. Let us descend to the arena then, and supervise the preparations again." Albus knew he should have been there from the start, but he was not getting any younger these days. And he wanted to be well-rested when the task started.

He didn't show any weakness when he stood up and followed his friend down the stairs, but since his friend had not commented on him not being present at the arena already, Alastor certainly knew or suspected.

*****​

Hermione was sitting with Harry, Sirius and Professor Lupin in the Champions' Lounge. The Delacours and Krums were walking around Hogwarts, sightseeing with the two champions acting as guides. That had been deemed too dangerous for Harry, and by extension, herself. Not that anyone present had felt like it. This was their school, after all. Professor Lupin lived here during the terms, and Sirius had visited so often, he might as well have taken a room too. She wished she could show her parents the school, but… she told herself it was too dangerous under the circumstances. And they'd not like seeing their only daughter presented as one of the prizes of the event anyway.

The door to the lounge opened, and Hermione tensed up. She had her wand partially drawn, hidden at her side, and pushed away from the wall she was leaning against, so she could react faster, just in case. When she saw it was Fleur, she relaxed - a bit. The French champion was leading her family inside and introduced them. To Harry, Sirius and Professor Lupin, of course. Retainers did not rate introductions on such occasions. Next to Fleur's parents, a stunningly beautiful veela and a stocky but jovial looking wizard, her grand-parents and head of families were also present for the event. All decked out in high-fashion robes from Paris, which seemed inspired by the latest Chanel collection, as far as Hermione could judge. It seemed she had not been as original as she had thought when she had turned to muggle fashion as inspiration for her own projects. Unless of course the designer for Chanel was inspired by wizard fashion.

And there was Fleur's adorable little sister Gabrielle, who was clinging to her mother's leg and peeking out from behind her. Hermione smiled when she met the little veela's gaze but Gabrielle squeaked and ducked behind her mother's robes. She didn't look that scary, did she? Fortunately, Ron was not present, he'd have made a few jokes at her expense later. Unfortunately, Sirius was present, who'd cover for Ron's loss, and then some. She glared at him, but he just smirked.

"We have heard such good things about you from my granddaughter, Fleur's grandmother, a witch and not a veela, stated with a noticeable lack of accent, "you must visit us over the summer at our mansion at the Côte d'Azur."

Hermione noted that it was the grandmother who extended the invitation she had expected for months, but she was not sure if that meant the mansion was within her purview, or if it was because Harry was Fleur's friend, and therefore it fell to the female head of family to invite him. She'd have to ask Fleur later.

Harry of course accepted. Hermione didn't know what she would have done to him if he robbed her of the opportunity to visit the French Magical Riviera as a guest of the Delacours. Or rather, as the retainer of a guest of them.

While the two groups were still exchanging pleasantries, Krum's family arrived as well. They presented quite the contrast to the elegant Delacours. Not just because of their robes, which had more than a passing resemblance to duelists' robes, but their guarded, reserved attitude. Even when smiling and inviting Harry to visit them in Bulgaria over the summer, they seemed to be wary, ready. Like herself, Hermione realized, wondering if that was just because they knew about the threat of sabotage, or if there was something more behind it. This summer would be interesting, she decided.

*****​

Barty Crouch Jr. smiled widely, overlooking the site chosen for his master's rebirth. Everything was in its place. The altar, the sacrificial implements, the needed ingredients, the candles and runic stones encircling it, the polished stone floor, perfectly aligned. If the members of his old coven knew what ritual he would be performing at their sacred site… not that any of them were still alive. But the protections placed upon it so long ago would mask the magic worked this day. And the corruption of the site's magic that would result from the ritual would help power it.

Next to him Mykew Cattermole-Brandon was sleeping peacefully in his crib. Barty sat down and caressed the baby's cheek. Such a fine young wizard. He tickled his belly, and grinned at the giggling noises that produced. The Cattermole-Brandons had every reason to be proud of their son, if not of their pitiful wards, or equally pitiful skills at defense. He didn't think they had even seen him, before he had taken them out. Once his Master was ruling Britain, as was his his ancestral right and sacred duty, such weaknesses would be corrected.

He stood up again and walked over to the altar upon which the temporary host of his Master was resting. The wind was picking up, despite the clear sky - the magic of the place had to be feeling something important, something glorious was about to take place.

His Master, wearing the form of a small child, a transfigured snake, turned his head towards him, but otherwise remained still as a statue.

"Barty, my most faithful servant."

"Master." He bowed deeply.

"It is time. Begin."

*****​

"It's time, Mister Potter." Harry turned towards the attendant addressing him and nodded. Since he was in the lead by five points he'd have a head start of five minutes. Staggered starting times meant that whoever reached the goal first was the winner, without the need to award and then compare points totals, as had happened after the other tasks. He didn't know why that was not done for every task. Probably tradition.

He walked to the entrance to the labyrinth the arena had been changed into. A three-dimensional maze of tunnels, chutes and twisted passages, made from stone, earth, even clay, the structure slowly changing, warping. Hermione had said it reminded her of a painting from Escher, come alive - whatever that meant. Harry was pretty sure it was not a good thing. It didn't matter though. What mattered was that somewhere inside there, at the exit, was Hermione, waiting for him. He didn't know what kind of traps and monsters would be trying to stop him, but he knew they'd not succeed. His retainer, his Hermione, needed him.

"Ready Mister Potter?"

Harry drew his wand and nodded. "Yes."

"Begin."

Harry entered the arena and felt the familiar tug of a portkey. After a very brief trip he landed in a crouch, wand out, in a dark tunnel, on the top floor of the labyrinth - probably. He had expected that, had been counting on it. If all champions started from the same place, his and Hermione's plan would not work that well. Waving his wand in a complicated pattern, he started to cast Minotaur's Bane. Soon a glowing ball of yarn appear at the tip of his wand, floating a bit away before it started to uncoil, with a strand floating down the tunnel. The spell led the caster to a place or person known to him. It had a short range but it should cover the labyrinth. Harry smirked as he followed the yarn. Some might call this cheating, but it wasn't his fault that Hermione was his stake in this tournament. He'd take any advantage he could get to make sure he could get her safely out of it again. She was his retainer, after all.

Turning around the next corner he came face to face with what looked like an animated clay figure the size of a man. It was trying to catch the intangible yarn and had not noticed Harry yet. A reducto from him made sure it would not notice him ever by splattering clay bits all over the … clay walls? Harry's eyes widened when he saw that the remains of the figure he had blown up were sinking into the walls. He might have been a tad hasty in blowing it up. When over a dozen clay figures started to form out of the walls, floor and even ceiling, he knew he had made a mistake.

Running past them before they had fully formed, he hit a few of them with sticking charms in passing. Hopefully that would at least slow them down. Glancing back, he saw that half a dozen were still chasing after him, but they seemed to be rather slow. He would be able to outrun them - unless another obstacle stopped him.

He continued to run until the walls changed from clay to stone. Perfect. Turning around, he started to transfigure the stone into a wall to close up the tunnel between him and the clay figures. It took some time, but he managed to raise the wall high enough to keep him safe before the first of his pursuers reached him. Sketching a salute at the clay arm grasping through the gap left on top of the wall, he turned around, then stopped. That was a rather long arm… looking back, the arm was almost touching the ground. That thing was changing its shape to go over the wall!

Another reducto blew it up, giving him enough time to raise another wall. This time he left no gap for them to ooze through. Shaking his head at the mistakes he had made, he vowed to to be more careful.

*****​

Hermione definitely didn't like this task. Not only was she still on display with the other stakes, a prize to be taken by whoever reached her first, but she couldn't even see how Harry was doing. Wouldn't know if he was hurt, or worse, while she was left to stare at the stone walls of her temporary prison.

"Ah. Did you feel those tremors? Someone fell down a chute. I wonder if that was your owner."

A temporary prison she was stuck in with the last guardian of the labyrinth, an Earth Genie. Who apparently believed he would be able to keep the stakes if no champion managed to defeat him. She rolled her eyes in disdain at the creature, who looked like a man made of grey stone clad in arabic garments. She knew that if no one managed to win, the stakes would be returned to the champions. Or their heirs.

"You'll be a prize my rivals will be jealous of. They laughed at me when I agreed to take part in this contest of you mortals. But I will have the last laugh!" He stepped closer to her, but was careful not to cross the line around the stand where the stakes rested. Or sat in Hermione's case. His grin showed pearly white teeth, in a mouth too wide for a human his size. "So pretty…"

Hermione really wanted to hurt whoever had the idea to pick this creature as the last obstacle. Refraining from hexing the creature - that would break the deal he had made, she had been told several times - she pulled out a book from her enchanted pocket. Reading should distract her. Or at least, show the annoying genie just how little she cared about his delusions. They were delusions, of course. No wizard would break custom and tradition and deal away the stakes of the champions. She told herself that while she started to turn the pages.

*****​

His Master's form was soaked with the potion Barty Crouch Jr. had been brewing for months. He didn't notice the awful stench of rotten, putrid meat. The candles were burning and the runic stones were glowing, shielding the site from the winds that had grown to the strength of a storm, battering at the glowing barrier and destroying the foliage of the trees surrounding the area. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, Barty thought, or how he imagined that would be like.

The obsidian dagger had been soaking in the potion as well. The stone blade would shatter in a day and an hour from the stress, but it would hold until then. It had carved out the hearts of countless people sacrificed to the sun in the Americas, before the Spaniards had put an end to that practise and to the people who had practised it, centuries ago. They had believed such sacrifices were needed to keep the world from ending, to continue the cycle of life. It was only fitting that such a weapon would serve to return his master to life.

He took the dagger and started to walk around the altar, chanting the words he had learned by heart from the grimoires his Master had guided him to. He didn't even notice the storm growing stronger, tearing branches off trees and smashing them against the barrier. All his thoughts were on his glorious duty as dark magic filled him.

*****​

A trapdoor. Harry almost smiled. After the encounter with the strangling fireproof roots that had left him in tattered, ripped robes and after the quicksand roof with the gravity reversal field, encountering a trapdoor, likely with a pit beneath it, felt like catching a break. It was well-made, but he had spotted the fine lines in the stone floor. He conjured a rock the size of his head and banished it at the trap. That should be enough of a weight to trigger it.

The rock hit the trapdoor, bouncing off, but nothing happened. Harry frowned. Maybe there was a magical trigger, a detection spell? He cast a finite at the area, then banished another rock at the trapdoor. Still nothing. Maybe this was a fake trap, meant to stall the too cautious? He stepped closer when the trapdoor suddenly opened - towards the ceiling - and a dog-sized spider jumped out.

Harry dove to the side, but one of the legs caught him, smashing him against the wall. He lost another part of his robe, as well as some skin. Harry managed to cast a protego in time to stop the spider from pouncing on him. For a moment he was staring at the mandibles scraping over his shield in an attempt to snatch him, and saw eight beady eyes meeting his. Then the spider jumped back and crouched down. It was about to charge at him again, the wizard realized. His shield would not stand up against another impact.

Harry cast aguamenti. The stream of water managed to push the animal back - he had become quite proficient at casting that spell when he had been training for the second task - and while it was recovering, he followed up with a piercing curse. The spider moved at the last moment though and he didn't hit the head, instead drilling a hole into its body.

Screeching, the monster rushed him, green blood pouring out of the wound. Harry froze the water on the floor and slid to the side. The spider went past him and stopped near the trapdoor. A quick banishing charm and a colloportus later, the spider was trapped in its own trap. Panting, Harry cast a quick episkey on his side and continued. Fortunately, the yarn he was following had not reversed direction - that happened already once, to be expected when traveling inside a labyrinth that was slowly changing, after all.

*****​

Barty Crouch Jr. took a deep breath. He was covered with runes written with his own blood, as was his masters' body, and Mykew. With the child in his arms, he walked backwards around the altar, retracing the steps he had taken before. Every candle he passed was snuffed out, the site growing darker despite the fact it was still afternoon. When he had completed the circle the area was covered by unnatural darkness. Barty didn't see anything anymore but his own body - and the runes written with his own blood, which seemed to glow in the darkness, filled with power that made him shiver with pain. The obsidian dagger was floating, its point tracking Barty - no, Mykew.

With a smile, Barty placed the baby on the altar, opposite his Master. Outside the barrier, which was shining now, the storm had started to uproot trees, and wood, smashed to kindling, was starting to pile up around the barrier. He smiled - nothing would stop him now.

He closed his eyes, savoring the moment for just a second, then reached for the dagger. On the altar, Mykew, held in place by a sticking charm and unable to move, started to cry. Barty's smile widened while he raised the dagger. Perfect!

*****​

Harry was in a very bad mood. He had dropped down a chute filled with water, bouncing and scraping over the stone walls, acquiring bruises faster than in one of Wood's infamous "dodge the bludgers" exercises. Exercises Hermione had hexed Wood for, before Harry could stop her. He had to recast the Minotaur's Bane spell twice so far, and had dealt with poison gas, underground rivers and magical kudzu that had grown almost faster than he had managed to burn it.

The tunnel he was in had changed too. No clay, no stone, but packed earth surrounded him. That usually meant plants of a sort, he thought. He didn't see any sign of roots though. He raised his wand and shot flames at the walls, the floor and the ceiling. He hadn't heard of invisible plants, but one never knew what a wizard or witch could invent. Nothing. He moved forward, and repeated the spell. This time he hit something - out of the wall slid a thick-limbed, slow-moving creature made of earth and stone - an elemental. He bared his teeth. He had dealt with such before, and he had just the spell for it.

He raised his wand, ready to blast it, but before he could finish his spell, he felt as if someone had driven a red-hot poker into his forehead. He threw his head back, screaming with pain as blood spurted from his scar. He didn't even realize he had fallen to his knees, nor did he see the elemental close in. He was still screaming, unable to do anything, when the thing started to engulf him.

*****​

"Did you hear that? Unless my ears deceive me, one champion just found his end. So close… and yet so far, now." The genie was gloating, but Hermione wasn't listening, She knew that voice, even if she had never heard it scream like this. And her torc was warm. Harry! She jumped up without thinking, wand in hand, while her chair clattered to the ground behind her. He needed her help! She turned to the tunnel among the three leading here that the scream had come from.

She didn't get far, the barrier around the stakes stopped her, to the amusement of the foul genie. His cackling laugh made her want to hurt him, kill him even. Harry was suffering, and that monster found that amusing? She had her wand pointed at the barrier, almost trying to break it, despite the knowledge it would be futile. When she lowered her wand instead, and pressed her hands against the barrier, looking at the tunnel she knew Harry was in, tears of frustration and anguish running down her cheeks, the genie laughed louder.

*****​

Barty Crouch Jr. was on his knees, panting with exhaustion, covered in blood - his, and Mykew's. The potions he had taken an hour ago were starting to end, and he was feeling the damage the ritual had done to his body, the pain growing with each breath he took as his blood was leaking through the holes the runes on his skin had left when they were consumed by the ritual. And yet he was filled with rapture. In front of him stood his master, restored to life. Larger than life, handsome, powerful, a wizard in his prime. Shiny black hair framed an aristocratic face, and the body… fitting for a quidditch star. He was perfect!

Struggling with the effort, Barty pulled out the Dark Lord's wand, taken from a cache he had been guided to months ago, and held it out. His Master looked at it, and it flew to him, landing in his hand. A moment later he was wearing a robe, blacker than night, and tailored to his new form. Magnificent.

Barty was still smiling, caught in ecstasy despite the horrible pain wracking his body, when he started to topple over. Before he lost consciousness he felt his Master's magic catch him, preventing him from touching the ground.

*****​

Harry was surrounded by earth. If not for the bubblehead charm he had cast to pass through the poison, some time back, he'd have suffocated - or rather, the portkey he was carrying would have activated. His scar was still hurting, bleeding too, but the visions of blood, death and a crazy wizard turning a baby into a snake and then into an adult man had stopped. He could not dwell on whatever that had been though, he had to reach Hermione.

He realized the elemental had engulfed him. Was about to crush him. He couldn't move his limbs, but he still was holding his wand. For all the good it would do to him - he wouldn't be able to move it enough to cast. For a moment he was ready to give up. He had done what he could. Then rage filled him. Nothing, no one would stop him! He screamed into the earth surrounding him, holding him prisoner, wishing with every fibre of his being to smash his bonds, to break free. He would not be defeated!

A shield sprang up around him, pushing the earth elemental holding him back. Far enough so he could cast. Grinning, he started to transfigure the the animated earth holding him into sand. Soon the floor was covered with fine grains of sand, and what was left of the elemental was fleeing. He almost chased after it, wanting to destroy that thing for daring to attack him, but realized that Hermione, his Hermione was waiting for him, needed him. Panting, he staggered onward. His spelled yarn was gone, but he was sure she was just ahead. He knew it.

*****​

"Hermione!"

Hermione gasped, relief - Harry was alive - mixing with horror when she saw just how hurt he was. His robes were in tatters, he was covered with mud, dust, sand and blood. So much blood. He was stumbling more than he was walking, and his glasses were bent. And his eyes… wide, bloodshot, and so intense… "Harry!"

"Ah, one brave champion managed to reach me! But will you be able to overcome me, as beaten as you are?" The genie was cackling at Harry. "Or will you try to make a deal? Maybe ..."

Whatever the genie had been about to offer Hermione would never know. Harry turned towards the creature, snarled, and blasted it into the stone wall with so much force, it left a small crater. Hermione stared. That had been an expelliarmus. A very, very powerful one.

Her friend staggered towards her while she was pressing herself against the barrier. "Harry!" He looked like he'd collapse any second. The barrier disappeared as soon as he touched it, and he fell into her arms.

She didn't know how long they remained like that, kneeling, holding each other, crying into each other's shoulder. Harry was alive. He had come for her. But he was hurt! He needed help! She started to stand up, pulling her friend up with her. The door was right there. Healers would be waiting outside.

The door was glowing - the seals were broken. Just a few steps. Behind her, she heard the genie groan. Served the foul creature right. Then the words registered. "The task is over, the deal done. I am free now. As planned." Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him smile cruelly, and pull out a red egg. Her eyes widened when the egg began to glow and he pulled its arm back to throw it.

Hermione cast a protego then spun around, shielding Harry with her own body as she pushed him towards the door. The egg hit her shield just as the door opened, shattering it, and she felt the the protection spells on her robe flare up when fire engulfed her.


Chapter 11: Endings and Beginnings

 

[turbinicarpus]

Nice chapter. Voldemort resurrected without Harry's involvement, but during the Task. Is Hermione going to have to duel the Earth Genie?

Some possible edits:

"Then I'll surpass it next year." Hermione smirked proudlyconfidently.

Click to shrink...

And not just because she was likely to use any of her knowledge to save him.

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No one mentioned the Unforgivables, but Harry was sure every_one of them thought about them.

Click to shrink...

"I'm am just enjoying the scenery, Fawkes."

Click to shrink...

Sketching a salute at the clay arm grasping through the gap left on top of the wall,

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I am not familiar with that expression. What did you mean for him to do?

Harry froze the water on the floor and slideslid to the side.

Click to shrink...

He threw his head back, screaming with pain whileas blood spurted from his scar.

Click to shrink...

 

[Starfox5]

Nice chapter. Voldemort resurrected without Harry's involvement, but during the Task. Is Hermione going to have to duel the Earth Genie?

Click to shrink...

That'll be revealed next chapter. She's currently engulfed in fire. Voldemort picked the time since it made sure that Dumbledore and most of the aurors would be guarding Harry, and not paying attention to what else was happening. He also didn't want Harry as a sacrifice because using the blood of a wizard who destroyed him as a baby for Voldemort's resurrection is a bit... risky. Especially if Harry has got "a power he does not know", and not something Tom researched and knew the effects of.

I am not familiar with that expression. What did you mean for him to do?

Click to shrink...

Saluting, but in a bit of a casual way. I got the expression from a few books, but I am actually not sure how official it is.

I didn't correct Dumbledore's "I am", I wanted that wording there. Like I used "Let us" and not "Let's".

 

[warlock7]

I see you post here first...
great chapter. that was quite the cliffhanger.
i assume that the saboteur made a deal with that Genie. will it make harry the winner? will there be a protkey teleporting the two into ambush-i honestly was looking for one.

 

[Starfox5]

I post here first (about a day early) for the last corrections before the final version goes up. With regards to the portkey ambush - that's quite hard to pull off without a polyjuiced traitor working security. The deal with the genie will be revealed in the next chapter, though I have to point put that the main goal of the entire "sabotage the tournament" was to provide a distraction for Dumbledore, so he'd not spot and foil the revival. Anything else (dead Harry, dead mudblood, embarrassed Dumbledore, Dumbledore crying wolf and wasting political capital and favors, etc. etc.) was a bonus.

 

[macdjord]

Saluting, but in a bit of a casual way. I got the expression from a few books, but I am actually not sure how official it is.

Click to shrink...

It's a legitimate expression, and you've used it correctly, but your definition is slightly off. 'Sketching a salute' means making a motion - generally just waving your hand in the vicinity of your brow - which conveys the idea of a salute without necessarily actually doing something that, in itself, qualifies as a proper salute. Just as sketching a thing means creating an image which would be recognized as that thing, despite not being anything like a picture of that thing.
This can be done with other actions, too: you can 'sketch a bow' by, e.g., placing your arm horizontally across your waist in the classic butler pose and then inclining your head; you have not actually performed a bow, since you did not bend at the waist, but the other person will know what you mean. However, it is mostly applicable to salutes, since a proper salute specifies many fine points about hand position, arm position, posture, etc. (the details of which vary between different militaries); most civilians couldn't salute correctly no matter how hard they tried.

 

[Starfox5]

It's a legitimate expression, and you've used it correctly, but your definition is slightly off. 'Sketching a salute' means making a motion - generally just waving your hand in the vicinity of your brow - which conveys the idea of a salute without necessarily actually doing something that, in itself, qualifies as a proper salute. Just as sketching a thing means creating an image which would be recognized as that thing, despite not being anything like a picture of that thing.
This can be done with other actions, too: you can 'sketch a bow' by, e.g., placing your arm horizontally across your waist in the classic butler pose and then inclining your head; you have not actually performed a bow, since you did not bend at the waist, but the other person will know what you mean. However, it is mostly applicable to salutes, since a proper salute specifies many fine points about hand position, arm position, posture, etc. (the details of which vary between different militaries); most civilians couldn't salute correctly no matter how hard they tried.

Click to shrink...

Well, it fits then, just so casually it's not correct anymore for a military salute

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 11: Endings and Beginnings

Fire engulfed Hermione. Flames licked at her clothes and at her hair, but the heat was not touching her. Or she was not feeling it yet, due to shock. The young witch didn't know what was the case, didn't care. All she cared about was pushing Harry through the door, out of the labyrinth, to the waiting healers. To safety. Behind her, the genie laughed, cackled.

She tackled Harry forward, tried to shield him from the flames with her own body. He hit the door, gasping - in pain - when she drove him into the stone, forcing it open. The two fell out of the arena, onto the stone floor of the platform. Hermione could see the waiting wizards already starting towards them, wands out. Before she could tell them to heal Harry though her protective spells started to fail, and she felt the flames surrounding her, felt herself burn. She screamed.

Her hair was burning, the acrid stench reaching her nose. Her neck felt as if something was tearing the skin off, slowly. Her robe was burning as if it had been dipped into oil and set aflame. She realized that was true - she had been splattered with a burning substance. Screaming, she tried to tear the blazing robe off her, the same toughness that had saved her so far now working against her. A small part of her was making a note: she needed a quick-strip charm or such. But that thought was drowned out by her panic, her struggle to open her robe and slide out of it before she was burned to a cinder.

Water hit her and for a second she felt relief, felt the heat abate. Then the flames roared up and the heat increased. Steam surrounded her, and her lungs hurt with each breath she took. "Stop! Stop it! No Water!" she screamed, frantically shaking her left arm to get it out of the smoldering sleeve clinging to it. With the burning remains of her robe hanging on her right arm, her wand arm, she started to cast a spell she had learned a week ago, to see if it would help Harry in the task. "Terrenum Mantellum!" Earth, clay, some stones appeared around and on her, covering her, and started to smother the flames.

The earth mixed with the water the fools were still shooting at her, turning into mud. She did not care. It covered her, her head first, then her body, then her limbs, until she was engulfed in mud, earth, and clay. She lay there, blind, held by densely packed earth. Hermione didn't know if she was still burning, the pain from her wounds was already too strong to tell. Her lungs hurt from the steam and the lack of air. The material surrounding her was supposed to be brittle, but the heat and water had changed that. Not enough to bake the clay, fortunately. Using her left hand she dug at the sticky cover over her mouth, tearing at it until she could breathe again.

She gulped down the air, screaming with the pain it caused her, and stammered again "No water… no water."¨She kept stammering, pleading, encased in her shell, in pain. She faintly heard someone else screaming: "No water! She said no Water!" Harry. Then she didn't hear anyone, anything anymore.

*****​

Harry's battered body gained more bruises when Hermione slammed him into the door, forcing it open as if he was a battering ram. He fell down on the stone floor, hard, hurting his wrist in an attempt to catch his fall. Groaning, the young champion started to get up, spotting several wizards and witches in healer robes running towards him. Behind him the door had already closed again. Then he heard her scream. Hermione!

He spun around, heedless of his injuries, and saw his best friend on fire, burning, screaming. It felt as if someone had torn his heart apart.

"Aguamenti!" Streams of water hit her, turning into steam as they suppressed the flames, but to his horror the flames did not flicker out, but increased in size.

"Stop! Stop it! No water!" When he heard her words, he didn't think, he simply lashed out. A banishing spell bowled over half the wizards surrounding his friend and interrupted their spells. Someone tried to grab him, and he stunned whoever it was without looking. Hermione needed him!

The witch had struggled out of her burning robe and had started to cover herself with earth. Earth Shell! Trusting his best friend he followed her example. "Terrenum Mantellum!" Earth covered the burning witch, surrounding her, replacing the flames. Water was still hitting her, hampering both his and her spells.

"No water! She said no water!" He screamed at the wizards and witches standing there, brandishing his wand. If they did not stop hurting Hermione…

Fortunately, they did. He barely noticed another, older wizard kneeling, casting at a burning spot on the stone floor. He was too focused on his friend, encased in mud and stone, lying on the floor - dying? He staggered towards her, shrugging off hands trying to stop him, and knelt down, staring at her.

The voices around him started to grow dimmer and he slumped forward.

"It's Byzantine Alchemical Oil. Keep water away from her. Get her to the infirmary and tell them we need a fire-suppressing potion, at once!"

"Levitate her. And get him to the Infirmary as well."

"Merlin! His sleeve is burning!"

"Carefully now!"

He closed his eyes, his cheek pressed into the warm mud covering Hermione's body.

*****​

Ron was screaming at the auror standing between him and his friends. "They are my best friends! I need to know how they are doing!" If not for Padma and Neville holding him back, he'd have attacked the stupid wizard, even without his wand, which Ginny had nicked.

The auror remained impassive. "This is a restricted area. No one is allowed inside. You'll be informed in due time about your friends."

Ron relaxed a bit, then tried to rush forward, but Neville knew him too well and didn't let go of his arm. Closing his eyes, Ron finally stopped struggling. What a horrible end to the tournament!

It had started so well, with Harry using his head start and a spell Hermione had found in an obscure book - the announcer had to ask an expert to identify it - to rapidly make progress towards the exit. Fleur had been held up by a giant-sized Brazilian Venomous Tentacula right after entering. Neville had been all excited about the fire-proof strangling plant. Everyone else had been more excited about Fleur getting part of her robes torn off in a most intriguing manner. The veela had defeated the obstacle by draining the plant of any water in it, but it had cost her time. Viktor had blown up a pack of giant moles, and then had run straight into a trap that had sent him down into the deepest bowels of the arena, leaving him in magical darkness that extinguished even magical light. Thanks to a projection the audience had been able to clearly see the walls slowly closing in while Viktor had been stumbling around. He had escaped that by conjuring metal poles to stop the walls, then opened a door with a series of reductos. That too had cost him much time though.

Harry had had his share of close encounters as well during that. It had been exciting to see him go through the enemies, and Ron had cheered louder than anyone else when Harry had banished the spider down the trapdoor it had jumped out of before. He had also screamed louder than anyone else in their group when the spider had appeared, but no one had mentioned that. Yet.

And then Harry had suddenly screamed, and blood had gushed out of his scar. No one had know what that had been - another trap? Luna had stated that elementals had no such powers, but by then, everyone had been hanging on the edge of their seats, following Harry's struggle with the elemental.

When he had reached Hermione, when the barrier had gone down and the victory fanfare had sounded, the cheers had been almost deafening. The Champion of Hogwarts, the Boy-Who-Lived, had won! The cheers had turned into screams of horror when that earth genie had thrown a fireball at Ron's best friends. Seeing them burning, hurting, hearing them scream, that had been pure torture for Ron and the rest of their friends. Padma had cried into his shoulder, Neville had held Ginny, Luna and Aicha had been frozen, even Aicha's genie had been muttering what probably were curses in a voice too high pitched to be heard.

Ron shook his head to banish those horrible memories. They were walking towards the Champion's Lounge now. The families of Viktor and Fleur were there, or had been there, and might know more. Maybe Viktor and Fleur would be there too.

"How was that possible? Didn't the organizers made sure that all creatures in the maze were safe?" Ginny sounded angry, gesturing wildly at Luna and Aicha. Aicha's tiny genie was hiding inside the hair of the witch, Ron noticed, probably afraid of getting hexed in place of the other genie, who had disappeared from the labyrinth as soon as Hermione and Harry had left. Ginny could be a handful, he knew, and had a temper, but he didn't think she'd hurt the tiny little sprite. Better safe than sorry though.

"They would have made a deal with the genie, and I cannot believe they would not have stipulated a "no killing" clause. Either someone made a really stupid mistake, which is very unlikely given the genies' well-deserved reputation for making dangerous deals, or whatever it did was not lethal, or…" Aicha trailed off, suddenly looking grim.

"Or?" Ginny demanded, impatient.

"Or the deal with the organizers ended when the tournament ended. Usually, the genie would return to its home at once, but if there was another deal already in place…"

"The saboteur." Neville stated in a flat voice.

"The saboteur. But to arrange such a deal, knowing which genie would be chosen, in advance… that would have required a lot of information, and experience."

"But who could that be? There cannot be too many wizards that could do such a thing, and right under Dumbledore's nose." Neville said with conviction.

"And Moody's nose. Or what's left of it." Luna added, which made Ron snort despite the seriousness of the situation. He could think of one likely candidate for this. Another reason why he needed to talk to his two best friends. If they were still… no! They couldn't be dead! Not from a stupid fire!

*****​

The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes was a white ceiling. She knew at once she was in the Hogwarts infirmary - the young witch had been in there often enough following Harry's quidditch matches. It was a comforting thought - if she was here, then her wounds had not been too grave. Otherwise she'd be in St. Mungos. Turning her head, she looked around. Next to her bed was another, occupied by a sleeping … Harry! She'd knew that mop of hair anywhere. But why was he still here? Had he been hurt that badly?

"Harry!" Her voice sounded raspy, hoarse, and she had to cough to clear her throat before she could continue. "Harry!" She was about to try to get out of her bed, check on him, when he woke up.

"Hermione?" his head turned towards her and a quick flick had his glasses appear on his head. "Hermione! You're awake!" Her friend jumped out of his bed, to her side, before she could answer. Belatedly she noticed that he was wearing his school robes, not a hospital gown.

"Have you been sleeping here?" She tried to sound incredulous, disapproving even, but to see him care so much about her made her almost as happy as seeing him unhurt and whole.

"Of course!" He gripped her hand, her left hand, she realized, and squeezed gently.

Hermione giggled briefly in response, then grew more serious. She lifted her right arm, covered in bandages, then touched her face. No bandages there. But her hair… she ran her fingers over her scalp, and found only stubble where a thick mass of curls should be. No scars though that she could feel. "H… How bad is it?" Her eyes sought his, demanding the truth, not some gentle lie.

"You'll be needing a hair growth potion." He smiled at her.

"And?" She waved her bandaged arm.

"They had to grew back the skin on your arm, neck, part of your shoulder, and legs. The arm was the worst." Harry winced while recounting her injuries.

"No cursed fire then?" Cursed wounds that could not be magically healed were the nightmare of every witch or wizard. Even if one survived them one was scarred for life. Like Mad-Eye Moody. Hermione suspected that muggle plastic surgery could help, but she was not too keen on finding out in person if she was right.

"No. Byzantine Alchemical Oil."

"Ah. That explains the reaction with the water." Which had almost killed her.

"Yes. If not for your quick reaction…"

"...I'd be dead." Hermione finished with a flat voice, and immediately regretted it when Harry shuddered and took a deep breath, fighting off tears. "I am not, though. I am alright," she added quickly, patting the hand holding hers with her bandaged one.

"Merlin!" Harry gathered her in a hug so tight it hurt. "I feared I'd lost you!"

"So did I," she whispered. The two remained like that for some time. Hermione couldn't tell how long, she simply enjoyed hugging Harry, feeling his warmth, smelling him, alive, healthy, sensing his hands roam over her back, which her gown had left bare… She blinked. That was a bit… "Ah, shouldn't you call Madam Pomfrey?" The Matron usually told Hermione to inform her as soon as Harry woke up, in such a situation. It was quite the reverse from the usual, she realized, with Harry waiting at her bedside.

"Ah… yes, she said something like that. She wanted to check you." Harry suddenly pulled back, and she saw a guilty expression before he turned around and sent off a glowing stag with his wand. "Merlin, I didn't think, I was just so happy you have woken up."

"It's OK. If I were in danger or needed immediate attention she'd have left a monitoring spell in place." Hermione smiled at him. "So… how long was I, ah, out?"

"Three days. They fed you dreamless sleep, so you'd not feel pain while they … fixed your wounds." Harry winced again. Hermione understood - that was longer than she had expected. She wasn't an expert though. "Fleur and Viktor send their regards." He pointed at cards sitting on the small table next to her bed. "The delegations from the other schools left Hogwarts yesterday. Though apart from that you've not missed anything else. The exams won't start until next week, anyway."

"I know that." Hermione glared at him, without any anger though, and he grinned in response. School. Exams. Good-natured teasing. For a moment it was almost as if they were not in the infirmary. As if she was not recovering from an attack that had just failed to kill her. And Harry. If not for the protections on her robe. Her robe! "I guess I'll have to get a new robe." Not really a problem, she had planned to replace some of her spells on her robe anyway, over the summer.

"Sirius already bought half a dozen for you." Harry smiled with an apologetic expression.

"Great. How many of them are not meant for 6th years?"

"There's one standard school robe. I made sure he'd not prank that one."

Hermione rubbed her forehead. She'd feel naked without her protective spells, but it would do. Belatedly she realized she had forgotten something else. "What happened to the broom and necklace?"

"The broom was burned to cinders. The necklace was unscathed."

"Of course! A veela heirloom would be fireproof. You won, right?" Hermione had heard the victory fanfare, but she would not put it past some people - Karkaroff - to try to get Harry disqualified for the loss of the broom, or her own actions in protecting him.

"Yes. Karkaroff tried to argue that I had received illegal assistance from you, both for the Minotaur's Bane and when you pushed me out of the arena, and should be disqualified, but the other judges shot him down. Or so I was told - I didn't really care to follow that, not with you… like this."

"You were hurt as well." If he told her he had been fine, she'd hex him, as soon as she got her wand back.

"I was fine." He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Honestly, I was no worse than after a rough quidditch match!" Which was not fine at all, in her opinion.

"You mean beaten to a pulp and ragged past the point of exhaustion?" Hermione was not quite growling, but close to it. Things were rapidly returning to what passed for normal when it came to the infirmary and the two of them.

"Err… I won the tournament. I ransomed the necklace back to Fleur, but seeing as Viktor's broom was destroyed, and since that had happened after I had won, so technically it was mine right then, we called it even."

"So you got the prize for the winner and half the ransom. Not bad." Viktor would get a new one from his sponsor, Hermione was sure. The publicity from the tournament, and the dramatic circumstances of its destruction, would ensure that. A good deal - a new broom, and no ransom to be paid. It vexed her a bit, seeing them lose out on the ransom money, but… she didn't care that much about the loss, not after what she and Harry had just gone through. The tournament was finished, she was no longer a stake in it. Even if there had been no real danger of her ending up as Viktor's or Fleur's retainer, it was a relief. She leaned back, sighing.

"Hermione…."

"Yes?" Hermione looked at Harry. He seemed to be hesitating, timid even. That was very unusual.

Her friend took a deep breath. "I've been thinking a lot, while you were… while I was waiting for you to wake up."

Hermione's first impulse was to make a joke, but Harry sounded too serious for that. So she just nodded, prodding him to continue while wondering what he had been thinking about.

"The thought of losing you, to death… it scared me so much, it hurt me so much…" Harry closed his eyes, took another deep breath, then looked at her again.

Hermione licked her lips, suddenly nervous.

"Hermione, it made me realize that you're not just my best friend. You're more. I don't just care for you, I…"

Hermione held her hand up, stopping him. Suddenly, things were clear. Things she had not wanted to see, or hope for. She wanted him to say it, wanted it to hear it, wanted to say it herself, but… "Harry, I… I know." She saw him starting to smile, and it pained her to continue, to wipe that shy smile off his face, but she had to. "But… are you sure it's not just… " she trailed off, and touched her throat, where she would usually be wearing her torc.

Harry understood what she meant, of course. They knew each other, sometimes better than they knew themselves. "Sirius said the Oath doesn't create love. No magic can create love."

"Sirius says a lot when it helps him get girls into bed." Hermione regretted her outburst at once when Harry jerked back, hurt. "I am sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have said that. It's just… he doesn't seem to be taking this seriously." Not as seriously as she felt it deserved to be taken. She didn't mention that Sirius was still suffering from his time in Azkaban, and not getting the help he needed, in her opinion. Harry already knew her thoughts on that matter.

Her friend weakly smiled at the familiar pun. "I know. But… have you ever found anything about the Oath, or the life debt, creating love? You've researched the topic extensively. If there was anything, you'd have found it."

Hermione nodded, even though she knew she had not researched the Patron Oath as much as she should have. She had been 12 at the time, and afraid. And afterwards… she hadn't wanted to know. She had been afraid of knowing, she realized.

"I know, but… there is magic that is said to create love, or something like it. Potions."

"The Oath is not a potion. And we've not been potioned either. Pomfrey would have noticed even if we would have missed it." Harry was sounding almost as if he was pleading.

Hermione's heart went out to him, and more than anything she wanted to hold him, and tell him what he wanted to hear, what she wanted to say. Instead she said what she needed to say. "But what if … I don't want to wake up one day, and find the Oath gone, and with it our…" That was her greatest fear: To find out her feelings were just a lie caused by magic. To find out that Harry only loved her because of magic. To be so happy, and then realize it was fake… she could not bear that.

Harry drew a hissing breath, and grit his teeth. "It's not the Oath. It can't be. Some things, magic can't do!" He didn't sound that sure though, to Hermione at least. He sounded almost desperate. She wanted to tell him it was alright, wanted to make him feel better, but… was that the Oath, urging her to help her Patron? To agree with him, to obey him?

"I'll find out. I'll find out, and we'll know." The young witch patted his hand again, blinking when tears appeared in her eyes. She started to brush them away, but he stopped her.

"Please."

Hermione nodded, unable to say anything right then without breaking down and crying.

The sound of the door to the Infirmary opening made both of them straighten up. Hermione wiped the tears off her face then, and Harry rubbed his own eyes. The were not in private anymore. Appearances had to be upheld. Hermione squeezed his hand again while Madam Pomfrey walked over to them.

"I am sorry for the delay. I was held up by the Headmaster. I trust you know how he can be. Now, Miss Granger, let's see how you're doing. You gave us quite a scare there." The Matron didn't even try to shoo Harry out before she started to cast diagnostic spells. She had learned her lesson with Hermione years ago. One did not try to separate the two under such circumstances.

*****​

"Did sleeping beauty wake up yet?" Alastor lowered himself into the seat with more care than usual. He wasn't getting any younger either, Albus knew.

"Miss Granger woke up an hour ago. Poppy found she is well on her way to a full recovery and should leave the infirmary in another day or two." Albus smiled stating this. He loved giving good news - especially in times like these.

"So, Potter's ready to be debriefed then."

"Do you think he saw something that will give us a clue about the saboteur's identity?" Albus asked softly.

Alastor scoffed. "No. But his scar was gushing blood, that's something to worry about. I want to know what caused this."

He wasn't the only one. Albus kept his expression bland, but something must have given him away since his old friend narrowed his good eye.

"You know or suspect something." It wasn't a question.

"I do. But if I am right, it needs to be kept secret at all costs."

"Why haven't you already dragged the boy in here then?"

"He was too distracted by his worry about Miss Granger. He would not have been able to deliver a clear memory of the event."

Alastor raised one of his eyebrows. "I see." No need to elaborate further - there was only one thing Albus was using his priceless pensieve for, after all, and both knew it. "If that's true…"

"If it is, we'll know soon enough." It was too late for immediate action now, and rushing anything would cause more problems rather than less. "What did you find out about the sabotage?"

"Precious little. The thing has returned to its home, and we can't track it down from here." Alastor scowled and rapped his staff on the stone floor.

"Not even with the genie's name?"

"We do not have that. The deal was brokered in Greece by a wizard from the Ottoman Empire, who has since disappeared, or so it seems. Our representative never heard the thing's name. And the Ottomans are damned uncooperative. They're not even talking to us, they're flat-out ignoring our requests." Alastor still considered himself part of the auror corps. He probably would until his death.

"A pity. Cornelius might have been a bit too harsh in his latest missive to the Sultan. But then, he had good cause." Albus grabbed a lemon drop. He did not offer Alastor any, his friend did not appreciate good sweets.

"Aye. We can't have the Ottomans kidnap British tourists in the Mediterranean and let the Sultan claim ignorance of what 'rogue elements' might have done." Alastor bared his teeth. "Might be time for another intervention."

"Impossible in the current climate." None of Britain's allies would risk war over a few kidnapped witches and wizards. Not unless their own enclaves were getting raided. But that hadn't happened since the last intervention.

"Aye, pity." Alastor snorted before returning to the topic. "Our saboteur has done his homework. He knew we had no alchemists among the healers on standby who might have recognized the oil and prevented the rest from making it worse with water spells. He knew the deal with the genie ended when the task ended, and knew that that would happen before the champions had left the labyrinth. And he managed to get Byzantine Alchemical Oil - quite rare and expensive." Alastor sounded impressed.

"He could have learned that from the unfortunate clerk caught acting under an imperius."

"No. That one didn't know all that, I checked. Our saboteur had multiple sources. Either imperiused and obliviated, or bribed."

"He will be hard to track either way."

"He is, even though that shouldn't be the case. Wizards that skilled are not a dime a dozen. There are not many who could pull this off in Britain, and even less who have the motive for it. Lucius and his old comrades come to mind, but even among them not many had that skill." Alastor glared at Albus, as he usually did when talking about the Death Eaters who had escaped Azkaban after the last war.

"It could be a foreigner as well. A mercenary."

"Aye. I still think it's one of ours though. My gut tells me so." The grizzled ex-auror patted his stomach. "Multiple layers, multiple traps and fail-safes. That's not something you can do without intimate knowledge of how we operate. And how Hogwarts and the Ministry work."

"I agree. But even with the current uproar, there's no chance to get a permission to interrogate some suspects. Not without at least something that points their way." Albus spread his hands. When his friend opened his mouth, he raised one hand to stall him. "Before you say anything: Given how intelligent this saboteur has proven to be, any auror acting on less than solid evidence might find out they just played into our unknown wizard's hand. Even my reputation would suffer significantly should I accuse people without being able to deliver proof." Or by forging proof. Especially after the winner of the Triwizard Tournament almost got killed under his nose.

"Which could be what our man is planning for."

Albus nodded. "I'll ask young Harry for a memory once Miss Granger has left the Infirmary."

His old friend laughed. "You don't want her to badger you to see the pensive, should she hear of it after the fact."

Albus smiled ruefully. Miss Granger's passion for arcane knowledge, especially when her Patron was involved, was a force to be underestimated at one's own peril. After the events in his first year as a teacher, young Remus still checked his words before mentioning obscure spells. And given Harry's protectiveness of his retainer - and maybe more, unless Albus was wrong about how their relationship was developing - trying to exclude her would alienate the young man. Something he, and Britain, could not afford right now, if his suspicions were correct.

*****​

"Hermione!" The witch in question had just enough time to put her book away before Luna Lovegood rushed to her side and grabbed her hands. "Merlin! Your hair!"

Hermione touched her still mostly bare scalp self-consciously. She wished she could have taken the hair-growth potion already, but Madam Pomfrey had forbidden that until her skin had finished growing back. Otherwise there was a chance that the potion would react with the treatment, and she'd end up with hair growing from the new skin as well as from her head. She winced at the image that conjured, then patted Luna's hands, which had started to wander and poke various parts of her. "It's OK. A potion will fix that before I leave the infirmary." She looked up and greeted the rest of her friends who had come to visit her. Behind them stood Harry. Their eyes met, and his smile, tinged with hope and sadness, once again made her want to rush towards him and hug him and...

"Evanesco!"

Hermione's train of thoughts was interrupted by Luna trying to vanish her hospital gown. "Luna!"

"I need to check if all your skin has grown back correctly!" the blonde all but yelled while Aicha was pulling her back.

Hermione looked down and noted with some relief that while most of her right sleeve was gone, she was still decent. She looked up to glare at the culprit, but her rebuke died on her lips when she noticed that Luna was crying. "It has healed perfectly fine, Luna. Trust me. See?" she raised her right arm. "My arm was the worst, and it's perfectly fine."

The blonde witch muttered something about treacherous genies between sobs. Hermione exchanged a glance with Aicha, and the Ravenclaw released Luna, who immediately rushed to hug her, still crying. Hermione returned the hug, consoling her friend, but couldn't help but feel guilty - Harry had to have been feeling even worse about her close brush with death. She glanced at him, briefly, while Aicha and Ginny were consoling Luna and Ron and Neville were trying to ignore the scene. He nodded at her, approving, and she felt better, but still far from well.

*****​

Voldemort stood atop of a seaside cliff, looking out at the sea. He felt a touch of nostalgia. Back when he was still living at the orphanage he used this place to teach those who made the mistake of angering him the error of their ways. Back when he was just discovering his power. Back when he was just entering the Magical World. It was only fitting that this was where his return would be completed. He pulled out a small stone from his pocket and cast muggle-repelling wards. Then he canceled the spell on the rock.

The stone changed into the body of Barty Crouch Jr., his most faithful follower. Smart, driven, and utterly loyal, Barty had given everything for his Lord: His wand, his mind, his life, his soul. He had known he was very unlikely to survive the strain from the ritual, yet had still done it. As Voldemort had known he would. And now even Barty's body would vanish, forgotten by everyone but Voldemort himself.

He had considered leaving Barty's body at the ritual for aurors to find. To have the body of a man who died in Azkaban years ago suddenly appear would have caused the Ministry, especially Barty's father, quite the trouble. It would have been a fitting revenge for Barty. But it would have been too dangerous. Voldemort was not yet ready to challenge the Ministry, much less Dumbledore. Finding Barty's body would have pointed at him, and not even the tampering he had done to the ritual site would have fooled Dumbledore for long. No, it was better for Barty to vanish, to leave no trace that could lead to him, until he had gathered enough followers, and gained enough power to secure his position.

Without further ceremony Voldemort pointed his wand at the corpse and set it ablaze. Fueled by his power the corpse burned to ashes in minutes. A flick of his wand, and the ashes were scattered into the sea. Below him was the well-hidden entrance to the sea cave he had discovered so long ago. Now it served another purpose. He thought about checking up on it, but shook his head. No need. It was after all just a trap for his enemies, no matter how unlikely they were to find it after the death of Regulus Black.

The dark wizard took out another, smaller rock, throwing it up and catching it again with effortless grace. His new body was perfect. Handsome, unravaged by the effects of dark rituals and more fights he wanted to remember, and utterly unlike his old looks. His Death Eaters would know him thanks to their mark, but others who knew Tom Riddle, or Voldemort, could pass him on the street and would never recognize him.

He turned away as the sun set. He had another, much smaller body to dump into a hag's cooking pot in Knockturn Alley.

*****​

Kenneth Fenbrick rolled his eyes, staring at the devastation in front of him. Next to him his partner, Bertha Limmington, was already studying the remains, wand waving. She was a skilled witch, pretty too, but a bit too eager to work and not eager enough to play. With him, for example. "Guess the Faithful overdid it this time. I haven't seen that much destruction since the day their former High Priest, old Ignatius, tried to resanctify the pitch of the Chudley Cannons."

Bertha looked up at him, frowning. "This site was devastated by a ritual, not a fight between quidditch fans and religious extremists."

He sighed. She was really no fun. But she was the best to have at one's back, so he had to take the good with the bad. "I know. I was joking."

"Ah."

"But whatever ritual it was, it didn't leave anything standing. Even the altar is cracked and scorched, and whatever they had placed on it has been melted." He poked with his wand at a piece of black, polished rock, which crumbled to dust at the touch.

"It turned most of the trees in the vicinity into kindling, too. Judging from the position of the remains, the wood was smashed against a barrier." Bertha stood up and pointed at a broken branch near her.

"One hell of a barrier, to withstand that."

"Muggles assume it was a tornado."

"That the work of the forgetful squad?" Kenneth didn't really like the obliviators. One simply couldn't trust wizards who spent their days altering memories, even if they were the memories of muggles. Too many rumors of one or the other obliviator using their skills on wizards or witches who caught their fancy.

"No, they came up with it themselves. Apparently, someone saw the storm."

"Only the storm?"

"Yes. The muggle took shelter and only came out again once the storm had ended."

"The only way to get this much power into a ritual, even on a site like this, is a sacrifice." Kenneth was no expert, but no auror was ignorant of the Dark Arts.

"A powerful sacrifice." Bertha looked grim. She knew as well as him that there were very few sacrifices that were powerful enough for such effects. Either a magical animal like a Unicorn, or a wizard or witch.

"I am not about to accuse the Faithful of delving into the Dark Arts and sacrificing people. Let's kick this upstairs." Kenneth knew what happened to aurors who made the wrong kind of enemies and couldn't back up such accusations. Azkaban always needed guards to relieve those who burned out. He had stepped on a few toes already, and couldn't afford any serious mistakes.

"Or downstairs. The Unspeakables might want to take a look at this."

"Unless they were here when it took place." Kenneth had heard all kind of rumors about what the Unspeakables did. And what they were. Such a ritual would fit right in.

"No trace of blood or bone. No body. No danger for muggles. Let's report back." The two aurors apparated away, leaving the ruined site alone again.

*****​

Harry watched as Hermione stared at the potion in her hand. She was already wearing her new robe - 'the unpranked one', Sirius had called when he handed it over. Harry didn't think he wanted to know what Sirius had done to the other robes. He didn't think he wanted Hermione to know either. "Something wrong with the potion?" Hermione's head was still a mess of stubble and very short hair. The potion was supposed to fix that.

"Hm? Oh, just lost in thought." His friend pulled the cork off and downed the potion. She shuddered and made a face at the taste, then started panting when hair suddenly started to grow rapidly on her head. The brown locks did not stop growing until they reached her hips and completely obscured her face.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Hermione raised her wand, pointed it at her head, and muttered an incantation he didn't catch. Her hair shortened to its usual length, straightened some and, most importantly, styled itself so her face was visible. She conjured a mirror to check her appearance, despite having done the spell hundreds of times before.

"You look great."

"You're not exactly objective." She smiled at him, but with less mirth than he'd have expected, if not for the memory of what she was alluding to.

Neither of them had brought up that particular topic since. And yet, things had changed. Harry held out his hand to help her stand up from the bed she was sitting on. It was a polite gesture ingrained into him since years, but today, he almost hesitated, and when she took hold of his hand, he felt suddenly self-conscious.

Hermione didn't grin at him, as she would have done a week ago, nor did she display the snobby, exaggerated attitude she sometimes used in private to make fun of the old-fashioned manners they had learned and practiced so thoroughly. She just smiled, almost shyly, and let her hand linger in his far longer than politeness required. Though when they approached the door leading out of the infirmary and she fell into her customary place half a step behind and to the side of him, he heard her mutter that she felt like Melinda Brockthistle, the heroine of one of the wizard novels from the last century she had read when studying manners. Harry grinned widely. That was his Hermione. Then they stepped out into the hallway and were Patron and retainer again.

*****​

"Good evening, Mister Potter. Please have a seat." Dumbledore's office never seemed to change, Hermione thought while she followed Harry inside. Still as cluttered as the first time she had seen it, with those tempting books she was certain were not available in the library of the school, or even the Black Family Library. She managed not to let her gaze linger too long on them, though, and sat down next to Harry. The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk. Parchment and knick-knacks covered most of the polished wood. Alastor Moody was sitting at the wall and growled something one could consider a greeting, if one were generous. He was tapping his staff on the floor and staring at them with his natural eye while his artificial one rolled around. Hermione had gotten used to it, after he had filled in for so many lessons during the full moon.

"I am glad Miss Granger has recovered fully. That was quite a dramatic moment, at the end of the tournament." Dumbledore smiled gently at the two of them, even as he was nominally addressing Harry as her Patron.

"Thank you Sir." Harry bowed his head slightly, which Hermione copied as a matter of course.

"You gave us quite a scare. I have to apologize again for the lapse in security that allowed that horrible moment to happen. A tragic mistake that would have had the most grave consequences, if not for Miss Granger's and your own quick thinking." The Headmaster took a lemon drop from the bowl on his desk. Hermione briefly closed her eyes as she remembered the flames surrounding her, burning her, the horrible stench of her hair, her skin, smoldering… she clenched her hands, dug her nails into her thighs until it hurt to stop her thoughts. The nightmares were bad enough already.

From the way Dumbledore stiffened, he had noticed her reaction. He did not comment on it though. "I have asked you to meet me, Mister Potter, since there was a peculiar moment during the task, when suddenly, you started to bleed heavily from your forehead. From your famous scar, to be precise."

Hermione saw Harry straighten up. She hadn't heard about that scene. That didn't sound reassuring, and his reactions told her he was about to claim he was fine, as usual.

Dumbledore didn't give him the opportunity though. "I would like you to copy your memory of that moment, so we can study it and find out what caused it."

"Donate my memory, Sir?" Harry sounded as surprised as Hermione felt. That was the first time she heard about such a thing.

"I have a special item, quite delicate and very, very rare, that allows me to store and study copies of memories. It's called a pensieve, a gift from my friend Nicolas."

Hermione had to close her mouth. To think what one could use such a thing, such an artifact for… if those memories could be stored, one could preserve the memories of the greatest minds of the Magical World, see lessons from the most famous teachers, or watch obscure spells be cast as often as needed until one could learn them…

"How do I do that, Sir? And how do I limit the memory to the exact scene you are talking about?" Harry's question interrupted her fantasy, and made her realize what else such a thing could be used for. It was worse than legilimency, in a way. If memories could be taken against one's will… she resolved to study occlumency with Harry over the summer, as a priority.

Dumbledore explained how to draw out a copy of the memory using one's wand. Hermione took note that one could also remove the memory entirely, judging from his words - a useful trick to keep it secret, she thought, even from legilimency… maybe even from oneself? She longed to study this pensieve. If she could copy it…

The silver strand that Harry drew out of his temple looked ethereal, flimsy even, as if a single gust of wind would disperse it. Dumbledore held out a vial, and Harry guided the memory into it.

"Thank you, Mister Potter. Please keep this secret, it might turn out to be very important." The Headmaster slipped the vial into one of the pockets hidden in the yellow stars decorating his blue robes. Moody had remained silent so far, but stood up now. This seemed to be quite a bit more important than Hermione had thought - and Harry suddenly bleeding was very important to begin with, in her opinion!

"Might we see the pensieve, Headmaster? As much as this might require secrecy, it's my memory, so I already know whatever you hope to find out." Harry stood up, and Hermione hastily followed his example. She wanted to hug Harry for that - the opportunity to see such a marvelous artifact… she could barely conceal her glee when the Headmaster nodded.

"I think that would only be fair. Follow me." Dumbledore turned and stepped towards the door behind his desk, which presumably led into his quarters. Quarters they were about to enter!

The private living quarters of the greatest wizard of Britain looked the part. Where others might have had shelves, sometimes formed from the walls themselves on demand, Dumbledore's quarters were cluttered with knick-knacks, clothes, books and exotic items, all floating around each other as if they were caught in a whirlwind, which had been slowed down to a gentle breeze. Hermione didn't recognize even a quarter of things she saw. But she realized that there were far too many objects to fit inside the room.

As they followed Dumbledore the floating items gave way, only to reform their dance after them, looking like curious hovering birds. Dumbledore must have noticed her staring, since he smiled and explained: "In my life I have acquired far too many things even for a bottomless trunk armoire, so I needed a bottomless apartment." Hermione drew a sharp breath - she had never ever heard or thought of such an application of that spell. To live in such quarters...

The Headmaster looked at an alcove, and a small item floated towards it, set down and grew into a shallow stone basin which reminded Hermione of a bird bath covered in complicated runes and glowing slightly. She suppressed a giggle at the thought of Fawkes bathing there.

Dumbledore used his wand to remove another strand of memory from the basin, storing it in a vial, the poured Harry's memories into the pensieve. After he touched a few runes with the tip of his wand, the glow intensified and a fine mist started to raise from it. "Lean forward and push your head into the mist, and you will find yourself inside the memory. Focus on pulling your head back, and you will leave it again."

Hermione repeated the instructions in her mind several times. It would not do to get lost in Harry's memories. As tempting as that thought might be, sometimes. She stepped next to Harry, whose face was tinted blue from the glowing basin. A short bow later she suddenly was in the labyrinth, facing an elemental - she was seeing through Harry's eyes! His body, with her in it, moved by itself, and she smelled the air. Wet, fresh earth. She saw the elemental come towards her, saw Harry's wand raise, and then suddenly, she was elsewhere.

She was in the middle of a hurricane, wood, trees smashing against a glowing barrier. To her horror she saw a dead baby, cut open, on a stone altar, next to a another screaming baby that suddenly started to turn into a snake, a viper she noted, rapidly growing and … changing, Limbs sprouted, and the head changed, hair appearing… scales faded, replaced with skin… until a handsome man stood there, covered with blood. Another man, trembling and covered with bloody runes, was holding out a wand to him. Then she found herself surrounded, engulfed with earth. Just like…

With a scream she pulled her head back and fell to her knees, panting, then vomiting on the floor until only bile was left. Harry was there, rubbing her shoulders, keeping her hair back, whispering into her ears. "I am so sorry, Hermione. I should have known… it was my memory."

"It's not your fault", she managed to mutter in response.

"I should have expected this. Please forgive my lapse and accept my heartfelt apologies." Dumbledore apologized, but he did sound a bit distracted.

"We all should have expected that." Moody added in his usual gruff voice. "But we saw what you suspected, Albus."

"We did. Mister Potter, it might be best if you return to the Infirmary with Miss Granger. I think she, and you as well, could do with a calming potion, maybe even some dreamless sleep tonight. But please, do not tell anyone about what you saw. It is of the utmost importance that this is kept secret. Lives depend on it."

Hermione vanished the vomit. She felt embarrassed about the whole situation, no matter how apologetic the Headmaster acted. But this… "It's him, isn't it? He's back." She felt Harry stiffen. Both were staring at the Headmaster. Hermione wanted him to deny it, to reassure her that it was not true, but he didn't. He only gave them a sad smile, and the barest of nods.

*****​

Once the two teenagers had left his office, Albus sighed and sat down at his desk again. Alastor was already pacing.

"That was Barty Crouch Jr., a dead man." The retired auror stated. "I recognized him clearly. How is this possible?"

"That is a mystery yet. But I think we both know who the revived man is."

"Aye. Only one Barty would go to such lengths for. He is back, then."

"As I suspected."

"What will you do now? Inform Fudge?"

"I doubt this is a good course of action. We only have a memory. And while I think I could persuade Cornelius, should I show him the pensieve, it is by no means a sure prospect. And it certainly would alert our enemy's old and possibly new supporters that we witnessed his return." Albus sighed. He did not like the course of action that he was persuading himself to take.

"You hope Potter will have more such visions, giving you more information. And you want to keep it secret from the Dark Lord so he doesn't take steps to stop this." Alastor knew him well.

"Yes."

"Don't you trust your pet spy anymore?" Alastor sneered, as he usually did when talking about Severus. He was almost as good at holding grudges as Severus was.

"He hasn't been contacted by his former Master yet."

"Or he has not told you about it." Alastor still doubted the man's loyalty. Albus didn't think his friend would ever trust Severus.

"He informed me that the Dark Mark has grown stronger, more pronounced, again. But I think it would only be prudent to use as many ways to gather information on Voldemort as possible.

"You won't tell your pet snake though."

"No." Albus trusted Severus, but only a fool would let a spy operating in the enemy's camp, which Severus would hopefully soon be able to, know much of one's own secrets.

"Good. Should I look into what Barty Sr. knows?"

"That might tip our hand, if he is compromised. But if he is, we need to know, or he'll be able to do a lot of damage in the Ministry." The thought that Barty Crouch Sr. might be a supporter or pawn of Voldemort… it was absurd, and yet… one could never be sure.

"I'll be discreet."

Alastor left through Albus' floo, leaving the Headmaster alone with his thoughts and with the crushing weight of the responsibility today had placed on his shoulders.

*****​

"Walden." The soft, almost melodic voice made Walden Macnair whirl around, wand appearing in his hand. Someone had broken into his home, without triggering any of his wards! He didn't see anyone though - disillusioned?

"Quick reflexes. You've kept in shape." Walden turned towards the voice, now coming from his side, when suddenly pain worse than the Cruciatus he had once suffered filled him, drove him to his knees. His wand dropped from nerveless fingers and he screamed, throwing his head back.

"Yes. Your Master has returned." The pain stopped, and a tall, slender man stepped out of the shadows of his living room. It wasn't the Dark Lord. He looked too different, too young. Before Walden could challenge the intruder the mark on his left arm burned, and he suddenly knew with every fiber of his being that he was facing the Dark Lord.

"Master." Already on his knees, he bowed his head. He didn't know how his Lord had returned, where he had been - dead, or hidden from any magic - but he had returned.

"Walden. One of my faithful. You didn't deny me when I disappeared. You were not captured either. You hid." The Dark Lord circled around him with slow, measured steps, tapping his wand - Walden recognised it at once - against the palm of his hand.

"Yes, Master. I hid, so I could serve you upon your return."

"You hid, and waited, but never searched for me. Did you hope I would never return, never call upon you again to do your duty?" That voice brought back memories. Walden suddenly realized he might be killed here, now, for having offended his Lord.

"No, Master. I waited, to be ready to serve you again."

"I see. You were lazy, weak even, without my guidance." The Dark Lord sounded amused, but Walden could almost sense the danger. More than ten years had passed, and yet it felt like yesterday.

"Yes, Master."

"I have need of a man in good standing in the Ministry, who has never ever been suspected of belonging to me, and who was not ambitious enough to act on his own."

Walden was relieved, but didn't show it. He would live to serve. He had met few, even among the Death Eaters, who could kill as easily as his Master. Many thought the Dark Lord killed on a whim, but Walden knew better. He knew all about killing, it was his daily bread, and the Dark Lord never killed on a whim. Each of his kills served a purpose.

Walden remembered his initiation. He had been young, barely out of Hogwarts, and looking for a purpose himself. He had followed the Dark Lord because his friends in his House had done so, but had not really understood what it meant, what it offered. Until the day he had received his dark mark. He would never forget that. He had met the Dark Lord alone, just the two of them. And the muggle he had brought, but that vermin didn't count. He had expected he would have to kill the muggle, to prove his loyalty and dedication. Had psyched himself up for hours so he could do the deed without showing any hesitation or weakness. And the Dark Lord had gone and killed the muggle himself. A flick of his wand, and it was done. Burning the dark mark into his arm had taken far longer. Walden had bit his lip until it bled so he'd not scream, would not show a weakness, but when it was done Walden had understood what power was. Power over life and death. He had felt sure of his place in life for the first time in his adult life. A month later he had joined the Ministry, as an executioner. Killing suited him, as he had found out thanks to the Dark Lord.

"Rise, Walden. We have work to do."

"Yes, Master."

*****​

"I still cannot believe that cursed mudblood survived! To think Matron Pomfrey would waste her efforts on such undeserving filth…" Draco trailed off while biting into a bread roll as if he was trying to kill it.

Pansy glanced over at her nominal boyfriend. Draco had been lamenting Granger's survival ever since the Headmaster had announced that the mudblood had fully recovered and would be leaving the infirmary soon. It had become repetitive hours ago, so she tuned it out whenever she could.

Pansy hadn't expected the mudblood to survive either when she had seen her ablaze, and heard her scream. She didn't think it was just Madam Pomfrey's efforts that saved her though. Granger was tougher than she had thought. She spotted Potter and his retainer enter the Great Hall, and studied them. There was no need to be subtle about it - everyone was staring.

Pansy kept observing the two during the meal, while making agreeing noises whenever Draco stopped his ranting to get another bite. She didn't think the mudblood had escaped unscathed. And it was not just that the mudblood's robes were looking drabber than before - she probably could not afford to replace the robe that had burned. No, something had changed between her and Potter. It was subtle, but it was there. They were not as close as before, a certain awkwardness, a hesitation, was there that had not been there before. Maybe she was hideously scarred from the fire and Potter did not want to touch her anymore, but felt guilty enough for her wounds to still do it? He just was the kind of boy who would act like that, even without the added push from being her Patron. Quite the difference to Draco, who'd drop her in a heartbeat, should something similar happen to her.

"Look at them, sitting there, gloating. To think such a mudblood-lover has actually won the Triwizard Tournament! A stain on every prior champion!" Draco didn't care that Hogwarts' champion had won, and the fact that many others in their house did care didn't faze him in the slightest.

Pansy considered telling him her theory about the mudblood being scarred, but decided against it. Draco would not spread it subtly, but shout it across the hall. Potter would take offense, and things would escalate. Best case, Pansy would have to spend an evening consoling Draco, and with exams starting next week, she really had better things to do. Worst case… she didn't know what the worst outcome was, not anymore. Potter had changed, Draco had changed. Pansy didn't like it, didn't like not knowing, but she'd rather not find out right now just how much they had changed.

*****​

"Did you read this article? 'The Faithful deny any involvement with a possible human sacrifice ritual in Western Wales, where an old holy site was destroyed by what seemed to be a tornado.'" Ron put down the Daily Prophet and looked at the others in their compartment. Ginny and Neville didn't look like they had heard him. They were talking about plants. Ron wondered how dense Neville had to be; his little sister was so transparent. As if she cared about plants past her grades in Herbology! Padma at least was interested, she had been reading the article together with him. Luna sniffed, demonstratively holding the latest issue of the Quibbler she was reading a bit higher. The blonde witch had calmed down after her scene in the infirmary, but she still seemed determined to keep an eye on Hermione, and Aicha had naturally followed her best friend. Which was why the compartment currently held eight instead of the regular six people. Not that Ron minded sitting so close to Padma.

"No, I haven't. Can I borrow it for a moment?" Hermione held out her hand. Ron handed the newspaper over without a thought. One did not come between that witch and something she wanted to read. He was about to turn back to Padma, asking about her exams - she was a Ravenclaw and loved to talk about such things as much as Hermione - when he noticed his friend freezing for just a second, and then showing the newspaper to Harry. Ron saw Harry's expression turn grim for a second before his friend relaxed again.

The two had been acting odd since the tournament - odder than usual during the end of year exams, at least - but that had been understandable, given what they had gone through. This though… he met Harry's eyes and raised his eyebrows, then looked at the Prophet. Harry looked at Ginny and Neville, then back at Ron and nodded subtly. Ron understood. He should have known, in hindsight, from what he had heard.

"Well, better they trash an old Druid place than the Cannons pitch!" he stated loudly. "Speaking of the Cannons, did you hear about their last game?" He had to fight to keep his eager expression on his face when he saw Hermione grit her teeth. Well, he could honestly claim it would help keep the others from paying attention to that hint of Voldemort's return. In addition to that, annoying Hermione with Quidditch talk was a bit of normality that all of them needed right now, in his opinion. And he could do with a bit of distraction from thinking about Voldemort's return himself. For the first time ever in his life he was not looking forward to the Summer vacation.


Chapter 12: Summertime

 

[warlock7]

great chapter. i do wonder, just what it is that dumbles suspects...about hermione and harry.

 

[Starfox5]

great chapter. i do wonder, just what it is that dumbles suspects...about hermione and harry.

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That they are in love, but hiding it. Dumbledore doesn't understand just how insecure the two, especially Hermione, are with regards to their feelings, since the two put up such a convincing front as Patron and retainer, and he remembers Harry's parents.

 

[turbinicarpus]

Good chapter. There were some bits with awkward writings, and a lot of missing commas, though.

her struggle to open her robe and slide out of it before she waswere burned to a cinder.

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This one should be subjunctive mood, I think.

Fortunately, they did.

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I am not, though. I am alrightall right,", she added quickly

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"Alright" is more of an interjection, so I think "all right" works better here. Also, "I am all right" is a complete sentence, so the comma should be inside the quote this time. (Personally, I am glad that you are using the British convention of putting the comma where it makes sense, rather than the American one of always putting it inside the quotation.)

It's okOK.

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That, or "okay".

If I waswere in danger

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Subjunctive mood, and it's Hermione speaking, so her speech would probably be very grammatically precise.

The exams won't start until next week, anyway."

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"Sirius said the Oath doesn'tcan't causecreate love. No magic can causecreate love."

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"Cause" is for actions or events, while "create" is more for things or states.

"Sirius says a lot when it helps him getting girls into bed."

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"I know. But… have you ever found anything about the Oath, or the life debt, causingcreating love? You've researched the topic extensively. If there was anything, you'd have found it."

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let's see how you're are doing

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Here and elsewhere, a contraction is more appropriate.

Our representantrepresentative never heard the thing's name.

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You don't want her to badger you to see the pensive, should she hear of it after the fact."

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Also, point of fact: Hermione is not a Hufflepuff!

Miss Granger's passion for arcane knowledge, especially when her Patron was involved, was a force to be underestimated at one's own peril.

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This would be a good place to insert a reference --- ideally a humorous one --- to a Noodle Incident from the past when this force was underestimated.

"It's okOK. A potion will fix that before I leave the infirmary."

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That was when Luna decided that she needed to vanish Hermione's hospital gown 'to check if all her skin grew back correctly'. Aicha managed to pull the blonde off Hermione before more than her sleeve was gone, but that only made her break down crying and wail about treacherous genies. Hermione realized that the young witch had been deeply affected by the incident that had almost caused her death, and started to console her friend.

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This passage is awkward. It's very telly-not-showy, and there is mood whiplash: it starts out coming off as a sitcom situation playing off Luna's lack of restraint and respect for personal space, then shifts to how deeply affected Luna was. I would suggest either cutting it, or rewriting it to show-not-tell more, narrating what Luna actually said and did. By the time the passage is over, the reader shouldn't need Hermione's realization to realize how affected Luna had been.

Voldemort stood on top ofatop a seaside cliff, looking out at the sea. The place held quite the memories for him. He used to deal with those who did angered him at the orphanage here.

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Generally, this opening reads very stiltedly and seems unnecessary wordy. I would suggest varying sentence structure. Maybe something like

Voldemort stood atop a seaside cliff, looking out at the sea. The place brought back memories: it was here that he would deal with those who angered him at the orphanage.​

It was only fitting that this is where his return would be concluded.

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I wonder if a better word than "concluded" could be found. As it is, it almost sounds like Waterloo, if you know what I mean.

Without further ceremony, Voldemort pointed his wand at the corpse and set it ablaze, burning it. Fueled by his power the corpse burned to ashes in minutesseconds.

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Unnecessarily wordy. Also, show-not-tell: picture Voldemort standing over the body, pointing his wand at it... for five minutes, while it burns visibly, but slowly. Now, picture him pointing his wand at it, and it dissolves into ashes in five seconds. There's a qualitative difference in scariness.

The dDark wWizard took out another

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Not sure about this one, but I usually capitalize it.

it didn't not leave anything standing

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Here and elsewhere, contractions are appropriate, unless the speaker is trying to emphasize or uses few contractions as a part of their speech pattern.

It turned most of the trees in the vicinity into kindling, too.

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Apparently, someone saw the storm.

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Kenneth knew what happened to aurors who accused the wrong kind of people made the wrong kind of enemies, and couldn't back up such accusations.

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Or something along these lines.

Azkaban always needed guards to relieve those who burned out.

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Oh, just lost in thoughts.

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She shuddered and made a face at the taste, then started panting when suddenly, hair started to grow rapidly on her head.

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Suggest rewriting this: "when suddenly" implies unexpectedness, which it isn't.

The brown locks did not stop growing until they reached her hips and completely obscured her face.

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Suggest rewriting this: the locks would obscure her face long before they reached her hips.

Hermione raised her wand, pointed it at her head, and muttered an incantation he didn't catch,

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Neither of them had brought upmentioned that particular topic again since.

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And yet, things had changed. Harry held out his hand to help her stand up from the bed she was sitting on.

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but today, he almost hesitated

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with those tempting books she was certainsure were not available in the library of the school, or even the Black Family Library

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She managed not to let her gaze linger too long on them, though

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if one werewas generous

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But she realized that there far too many objects to fit inside the room.

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"Aye. Only one Barty would go to such lengths for. He is back, then."

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when suddenly pain worse than a Cruciatuso filled him,

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Firstly, it sounds more profound to refer to the spell's name. Secondly, I suggest cutting this comparison in the first place: this is a matter of personal taste, but I prefer to think of the Cruciatus as the ultimate torture curse. That, almost by definition, there is nothing more painful than the Cruciatus except for a better cast Cruciatus.

His wand dropped from nerveless fingers and he screamed with pain, throwing his head back.

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"Pain" is redundant here.

The pain stopped, and a tall, slender man stepped out of the shadows of his living room. It wasn't the Dark Lord.

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These are independent clauses: you could replace "and" with a period, so there must be a comma before the "and".

Already on his knees, he bowed his head.

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You didn't denyhaven't denied me when I disappeared.

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One did not try to come between

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"Try to" is unnecessary here.

 

[macdjord]

This one should be subjunctive mood, I think.

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No, 'was' is correct here. 'Were' reads very awkwardly.

"Alright" is more of an interjection, so I think "all right" works better here.

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Nope. "I am alright" means "I am in acceptable condition"; "I am all right" means "I am correct in every way".

Not sure about this one, but I usually capitalize it.

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My rule would be if you're using it as a title, it gets capitalised, but if you're using it just as a job description, it does't. In this case, since it's Voldemort, it's clear 'the Dark Wizard'.

Suggest rewriting this: "when suddenly" implies unexpectedness, which it isn't.

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Having her hair grow isn't unexpected; having it do so so suddenly and without warning was.

Suggest rewriting this: the locks would obscure her face long before they reached her hips.

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And? It did not stop until both these events had come to pass; that one of them happened first isn't a problem.

"Pain" is redundant here.

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Nope. He could be screaming in fear or anger.

 

[Starfox5]

Good chapter. There were some bits with awkward writings, and a lot of missing commas, though.

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Thanks a ton! One poster said to use less commas, so that may have influenced me. I made msot of the corrections.

This would be a good place to insert a reference --- ideally a humorous one --- to a Noodle Incident from the past when this force was underestimated.

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Good idea.

This passage is awkward. It's very telly-not-showy, and there is mood whiplash: it starts out coming off as a sitcom situation playing off Luna's lack of restraint and respect for personal space, then shifts to how deeply affected Luna was. I would suggest either cutting it, or rewriting it to show-not-tell more, narrating what Luna actually said and did. By the time the passage is over, the reader shouldn't need Hermione's realization to realize how affected Luna had been.

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Rewrote it a bit. The mood whiplash is intended though - Luna's more than some happy sprite.

Generally, this opening reads very stiltedly and seems unnecessary wordy. I would suggest varying sentence structure. Maybe something like

Voldemort stood atop a seaside cliff, looking out at the sea. The place brought back memories: it was here that he would deal with those who angered him at the orphanage.​

I wonder if a better word than "concluded" could be found. As it is, it almost sounds like Waterloo, if you know what I mean.

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Rewrote it a bit.

Unnecessarily wordy. Also, show-not-tell: picture Voldemort standing over the body, pointing his wand at it... for five minutes, while it burns visibly, but slowly. Now, picture him pointing his wand at it, and it dissolves into ashes in five seconds. There's a qualitative difference in scariness.

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From Wikipedia: "The time required for cremation varies from body to body, and, in modern furnaces, the process may be as fast as one hour per 50 kg (100 lb) of body weight."

Minutes is very fast for cremation. I do picture him exactly like that: Standing there for a few minutes, burning his most loyal follower to ashes. It feels more appropriate as a show of respect for the man who sacrificed everything for his return, instead of quickly vanishing him like trash. Also, this is Voldemort's POV - it's not telling the reader about the power, it's him thinking about his power.

Kenneth knew what happened to aurors who accused the wrong kind of people and couldn't back up such accusations. Or something along these lines.

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Added a line to show that it's not (just) accusing the wrong kind of people, it's making the wrong kind of mistake. Aurors usually have enemies already, who like to exploit any big mistake they make.

Suggest rewriting this: the locks would obscure her face long before they reached her hips.

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Yes, but I picture Harry's gaze following the hair growth down, then notice her face is obscured when he looks up again.

Firstly, it sounds more profound to refer to the spell's name. Secondly, I suggest cutting this comparison in the first place: this is a matter of personal taste, but I prefer to think of the Cruciatus as the ultimate torture curse. That, almost by definition, there is nothing more painful than the Cruciatus except for a better cast Cruciatus.

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I rewrote it a bit to make it clearer - but that the pain is worse is the point, it is a better cast Cruciatus (sort of). This Voldemort was not in the habit of casting the cruciatus on his followers on a whim, so it's not as if they immediately recognize him by his "wandwork".

 

[Starfox5]

No, 'was' is correct here. 'Were' reads very awkwardly.

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I agree.

Nope. "I am alright" means "I am in acceptable condition"; "I am all right" means "I am correct in every way".

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Yes. She's in acceptable condition.

My rule would be if you're using it as a title, it gets capitalised, but if you're using it just as a job description, it does't. In this case, since it's Voldemort, it's clear 'the Dark Wizard'.

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He is the Dark Lord, but a dark wizard.

Having her hair grow isn't unexpected; having it do so so suddenly and without warning was.

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Good point.

 

[inky]

That was excellent. I epecially like that a competent duo is matched with a competent Voldemort.

 

[turbinicarpus]

Another suggestion:

After last the prior year's events

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[Starfox5]

Another suggestion:

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Hm. Or maybe specify the year as in "his first year as a teacher"?

 

[macdjord]

I still cannot believe that cursed mudblood has survived!

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Unless this is the first time Draco has seen Hermione since the Task, lose the 'has'.

Ron wondered how dense Neville had to be, his little sister was so transparent.

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Should be a semi-colon, not a comma.
General rule: Replace the comma with a period. If what you get is two grammatically complete sentences, you should use a semi-colon, not a comma.


Also, another idea on the whole 'value of a galleon' thing: it is possible that gold itself is not a scarce resource among magicals, and that the value of the galleon is as a fiat currency, rather than from the metal value; a galleon's worth of gold is worth no more to a wizard than a dollar bill's worth of paper to us.
The only clear suggestion that gold itself is scarce is in The Philosopher's Stone, where the stone's power to transmute base metals into gold is implied to be significant. However, recall that this is an old book being interpreted by 11-year-olds; they would not be old enough to recognize the distinction between creating money and creating wealth. Dumbledore does later confirm the stone as a path to riches, but this would be true regardless of whether gold was intrinsically valuable; the Elixir itself could be sold for huge profit to the rich and elderly.

 

[The Unicorn]

Also, another idea on the whole 'value of a galleon' thing: it is possible that gold itself is not a scarce resource among magicals, and that the value of the galleon is as a fiat currency, rather than from the metal value;

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Gold is one of the worst metals you can make coins out of, if gold wasn't intrinsically valuable no one would ever have made coins out of it.

That said there's no reason the actual gold content in a galleon be significant.

 

[Starfox5]

Unless this is the first time Draco has seen Hermione since the Task, lose the 'has'.

Should be a semi-colon, not a comma.
General rule: Replace the comma with a period. If what you get is two grammatically complete sentences, you should use a semi-colon, not a comma.

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Changed. I consider gold a valuable metal in Wizarding Britain, but I do not think galleons are that big, or that pure.

 

[macdjord]

Gold is one of the worst metals you can make coins out of, if gold wasn't intrinsically valuable no one would ever have made coins out of it.

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It could be a holdover from days when gold was valuable, before someone figured out how to transmute it without a philosopher's stone. It could be a tradition imported from the muggle world. Or it could just be that gold is shiny, and they have charms or better alloys that make it durable enough.

 

[Starfox5]

Myth says you need a philosopher's stone to turn lead into gold. I think one should go with that, it has a lot of traction. It doesn't matter much though - if gold is not valuable, then galleons will still have value, but will be protected from getting copied.

 

[macdjord]

Myth says you need a philosopher's stone to turn lead into gold. I think one should go with that, it has a lot of traction.

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Conjuring it isn't the only way gold could be devalued. They could simply have better sources of natural gold. (Maybe the magical world's mining operations are simply a couple orders of magnitude better than muggle ones - either because magic helps ('Accio gold'? A targeted vanishing spell?), or because there's another species (e.g goblins or dwarves) who are fundamentally better at it. Or maybe they simply have richer sources (because they snag all the best spots as magic-only sites). Etc..)

 

[The Unicorn]

It could be a holdover from days when gold was valuable, before someone figured out how to transmute it without a philosopher's stone. It could be a tradition imported from the muggle world. Or it could just be that gold is shiny, and they have charms or better alloys that make it durable enough.

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Maybe, but in those cases I'd expect the actual gold content of the coins to be practically nill. For that matter that makes a better explanation in general than gold not having intrinsic value.