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┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟏 *•. ┄┄

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬

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Sirius sent Vader back the very next morning. It fluttered down beside Harry. The specky kid took the letter from Vader who then flew to Hermione's shoulder. As Hermione was giving treats to the owl Harry began reading the letter.

Harry — what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to Hermione and Ron, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out-of-bounds again. (Hermione and Ron too)

"Who's he, to lecture me about being out-of-bounds?" said Harry in mild indignation as he folded up Sirius's letter and put it inside his robes. "After all the stuff he did at school!"

"Yeah! What's his deal?" Hermione scoffed while petting Vader.

"I reckon he's worried," shrugged Ron proceeding to shove a spoonful of porridge in his mouth.

"No one's tried to attack me all year," said Harry. "No one's done anything to me at all —"

"Except put your name in the Goblet of Fire," pointed out Hermione.

"Look," said Harry impatiently, "let's say Sirius is right, and someone Stunned Krum to kidnap Crouch. Well, they would've been in the trees near us, wouldn't they? But they waited till I was out of the way until they acted, didn't they? So it doesn't look like I'm their target, does it?"

"Maybe you weren't their target then," said Hermione. "The final task —"

"They didn't care about attacking Krum, did they?" said Harry. "Why didn't they just polish me off at the same time? They could've made it look like Krum and I had a duel or something."

"They could make it look like you ran into a tree," suggested Hermione.

"Or that you accidentally tripped over and fell in a hole," said Ron going along with Hermione.

"Or a huge black dog attacked you!"

"Or Hermione's army of penguins decided to beak you to death,"

"Alright, alright, I get it!"

The Hogwarts grounds never looked more inviting than when Hermione had to stay indoors. For the next few days, she spent all of her free time either in an empty class to practice jinxes and hexes with Harry or in the Room of Requirement to practice the art of Portkey making. Harry was now concentrating on the Stunning Spell, which he had never used before. The trouble was that practicing it involved certain sacrifices on Ron's and Hermione's part.

"Can't we kidnap Mrs. Norris?" Ron suggested on Monday lunchtime as he lay flat on his back in the middle of their Charms classroom, having just been Stunned and reawoken by Harry for the fifth time in a row. "Let's Stun her for a bit. Or you could use Dobby, Harry, I bet he'd do anything to help you. I'm not complaining or anything" — he got gingerly to his feet, rubbing his backside — "but I'm aching all over. . . ."

"That may be my fault, I've been moving the pillows once you fall. . . ." said Hermione sheepishly and Ron mock glared at her.

"Why don't you take a turn, Mimi?" said Ron with his eyes narrowed.

"Pfft. I wouldn't want to deprive you of such a wonderful experience."

"No, really, I don't mind."

"You don't mind or you don't have a mind?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Guys we need to focus—"

The bell rang. They hastily shoved the cushions back into Flitwick's cupboard and slipped out of the classroom.

"See ya!" said Hermione, and she set off for Arithmancy. After the amazingly boring class — which wasn't usual as she actually likes Arithmancy — Hermione walked off to the Room of Requirement. As she walked in the LCs or Lively Corpses appeared.

"Are you ready, Mia?" asked Annora with a grin her blond locks in a bun, "I think you're nearly there."

"Maybe try to. . . . Focus more. Concentrate on the place you want instead of the actual spell," suggested Regulus.

"Huh. That was actually. . . ."

"Helpful and smart?" said James finishing Hermione's sentence.

"Yeah that." nodded Hermione then furrowed her eyebrows, "Okay, focus..."

"You got this Mimi! Just go with it! Focus on the object. . . ." Marlene cheered.

"The place." Regulus corrected.

"Just do it," Evan said rolling his eyes.

"You can do it, Mia, " smiled Lily and Hermione had had enough.

"Let's stop with the crappy cheers and get this show on the road!" She exclaimed taking out of her pocket feathers and pins or badges she had stolen all over the school. She grabbed the first feather and put it down on the stone floor of the Come-and-Go room.

She focused on the place. Shrieking Shack. "Portus!" Nothing happened. Not one blue glow, not even a smidge of blue. The feather stayed the same. Yellow and boring. No glow.

"Are you focusing on the place?" Lily questioned.

"Yeah. Shrieking Shack," said Hermione glaring at the feather.

"Just that?" Regulus asked making Hermione look up at him.

"Yeah. . . ."

"Yeah. That will totally work. Full of emotion you are," Evan scoffed.

"You should try to feel the place. Like you're really there —"

"Or at least something more than just the name," Marlene added cutting Regulus off. Hermione looked around seeing that every face was encouraging her to do it.

She took a deep breath closed her eyes and imagined the Shrieking Shack. The withering wallpaper gashed off the wall, the dirty and broken furniture that desperately needed cleaning, the horror movie ambient, the old smell steady in the air, and the dust that covered every surface. She opened her eyes again and pointed her wand at the feather, "Portus!", this time the feather glowed a bright blue and then steadied on yellow again. "Did it work?" Hermione asked looking around.

"Only one way to find out, " James shrugged. Hermione nodded and moved forward picking up the feather. Next thing she knew her body was being pulled forward and backward, in every direction. She felt her organs collide against each other until her feet landed on the ground again. She staggered back slightly but looking around she saw the unmistakable inside of the Shrieking Shack. She had done it. She had actually done it.

"You did it!" she heard a voice from behind her and as she turned was ambushed in a hug, courtesy of her mother.

"I did it!" Hermione squealed slightly, clearing her throat afterward, "Um — Right now I have to practice one to get back and start working on doing it wordlessly. . . . The joy."

Creating a Portkey back only took her a couple of tries. She was so focused on being able to do it that she didn't focus on actually doing it. But after some tries, she was back in the Room of Requirement. With luck she would be able to do it wordlessly before the Third Task, otherwise, she would have to risk not being stealthy and end up getting caught.

"Dumbledore reckons You-Know-Who's getting stronger again as well?" Ron whispered.
Everything Harry had seen in the Pensieve, nearly everything Dumbledore had told and shown him afterward, he had now shared with Hermione and Ron — and, of course, with Sirius, to whom Harry had sent Vader the moment he had left Dumbledore's office. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat up late in the common room once again that night, talking it all over until Harry's mind was reeling, until he understood what Dumbledore had meant about ahead becoming so full of thoughts that it would have been a relief to siphon them off.
Ron stared into the common room fire. Harry thought he saw Ron shiver slightly, even though the evening was warm. Hermione was just mildly listening to the conversation. She was mainly thinking and pondering over her plan for the Final Task — it was beginning to feel more and more real as time went by and Hermione didn't like it. Many things could go wrong in her plan but if they did her priority was Harry; she would die for him, of course.

"And he trusts Snape?" Ron said. "He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?" Ron said, turning back to Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry, "but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage."

"We never thought of her, did we?" said Ron slowly. "Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it —"

"Duh," said Hermione finally joining in on the conversation, "People don't like "half-breeds". It's worse than muggle-borns. This fucking world is so fucking prejudiced I just want to bang my head against the wall and die. Seriousily, just because someone is different doesn't mean they're not someone. Everyone is different but that's a good thing. Everyone is their own person. But no. Prejudice, prejudice, prejudice. The ministry says they're so much better than Voldemort but they aren't. Not really. They think they're higher up than anyone else. Did you know that goblins aren't allowed to use wands? And why don't they get treated better? I know they're little fuckers sometimes but treat them with respect and earn respect, yeah? People are so frustrating! Urgh.."

"That was. . . ."

"Are you okay, Mimi?" asked Harry looking at Hermione.

"Fine. I just. I'm stressed. It's the task and the humans on this Earth. For real though there is so much fucking prejudice. Why? I don't get it! I'm going to bed. Night guys."

"Night, Hermione—?"

Hermione walked slowly upstairs to her dormitory. She stripped and hastily put an oversized t-shirt on her and enabled herself to drown in the comfortable bed; letting her mind drift to one of her dream worlds. This one was that she was a wanted criminal because she had stolen a sock from the Minister and had to create Portkeys all around the world. She ended up creating one that leads to Narnia and stayed there forever — that is until she woke up.

Hermione started practicing wordlessly making a Portkey and realized that it wasn't as hard as doing it for the first time. She did have a lot of trials, mind you, but it took her less time. She just needs to focus slightly more on the spell. It was a balance between focusing on the magic and the place in mind. The thing is. . . . Exams. Yes. Hermione had exams. Even with all that was happening she still had them. Not that she was studying for them. She was more focused on the Portkey, Defense, and Attack spells and also helping Harry with the latter.

"Cause pillows are a real match when it comes to the real thing," Hermione said sarcastically when Harry pointed this out to them and said he didn't mind practicing on his own for a while, "Do you really think exams are more important than having you alive?"

"Besides it's good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair.

The mood in the castle as they entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practicing hexes at every available moment. Hermione was probably the only one dreading the task.

Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, and Ron all over the school, Professor McGonagall had given them permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtime.

Harry had soon mastered the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and the Four-Point Spell, a useful "discovery" of Hermione's that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione managed to shatter it with a stunning spell, and Harry passed out for a while. Hermione and Ron made a bet on when he would wake up and Hermione won as she woke him up with a spell.

Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius.

"Mimi?" Ron called her.

Hermione lifted her eyes from the spot on the table she'd been staring at for the past five minutes; losing herself in thought to look at Ron, "Huh?"

"We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes," he said, turning back to Harry as Hermione nodded absent-mindedly, "What're you going to do in Binns's class — read again?"

"S'pose so," Harry said to Ron; but just then, Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward him.

"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber of the Hall after breakfast," she said.

"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

She moved away. Harry gaped after her.
"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" he asked Ron and Hermione blankly.

"It would be such a family reunion. The pigs and their monkey. Really remarkable, " Hermione said and the two snorted.

"Dunno," said Ron. "Hermione, we'd better hurry, we're going to be late for Binns. See you later, Harry."

"Bye-bye, Harold Prongslet, " Hermione said, swinging her bag over her shoulder and following Ron out of the Great Hall.

The history exam was awful. Besides the fact Hermione wasn't the best at the subject because she fell asleep a lot and had a slight memory problem, she couldn't focus more than a few seconds before her mind drifted to the events happening that day.

They returned to the Great Hall for lunch and found Mrs. Weasley and Bill sitting at the Gryffindor table with Harry.

"Mum — Bill!" said Ron, looking stunned, as he joined the table with Hermione. "What're you doing here?"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh . . . okay," said Ron. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

"It was awfully awful. . . ." Hermione groaned as she sat next to Bill, "William did you know I have a memory problem?"

"Yeah. Learned it this summer when we were talking and you forgot what we were talking about." Bill nodded and Hermione shook her head.

"Yeah well. It doesn't really help me if I want to not fail History."

"Since when do you fail? In fact what happened to your grades?" said Ron looking really thoughtful. "You used to be the best in our year."

"I still am, Ronald. The best-looking one," Hermione said flipping her hair and making Mrs. Weasley shake her head in amusement as Bill and Harry cracked a smile.

"She is true," said Fred's voice as he slipped into the seat next to Hermione. Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly and feel another one of those mini-heart attacks she usually has. Huh.

George and Ginny came to sit next to them too, and they all spent a considerably fun lunch together. Though Hermione couldn't help but be only half focused on the events surrounding her.

After lunch and her next exam, Hermione started her plan. She excused herself from the group and walked back to the Gryffindor Common room. She went up the stairs of the boys' dormitory and entered the fourth-year's room. After a while of rummaging around, she found Harry's invisibility cloak stuffed inside his trunk. She grabbed that along with two dice she found somewhere inside her things (she must've packed them along with the lamp from her room) and took them up to the Room of Requirement. She then went down to the Great Hall for the evening feast.

There were more courses than usual, but Hermione like Harry was starting to feel really nervous now and didn't eat much. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys and Hermione all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

After the five minutes, Hermione hastily said goodbye to her friends and made a mad dash to the Room of Requirement. She burst into it and started getting ready. She put her hair up in a ponytail and made sure her clothes were comfortable and she could easily move in them. She then grabbed the invisibility cloak and the dice. She put one die in her pocket and the other on the floor.

"We'll be there with you Mia. Everything will be okay, " Hermione looked up to find her mum smiling warmly at her. She nodded and pointed her wand to the die.

She pictured Little Hangleton Graveyard, the tombstones, and every feeling described in the book. Portus she thought and the object glowed blue and stopped. Hermione put the invisibility cloak around herself, made sure she had her wand with her, and grabbed the die.

She instantly felt a jerk somewhere behind her navel and her feet left the ground; her hand clenched around the die. Finally, her feet slammed on the ground, and before anything, Hermione made sure the clock was still covering her.

She looked around and immediately a chill ran through her spine lifting the little hairs on her neck. She was standing in a dark and grim cemetery, the little church a few hundred feet away, the hill as it said in the book, and the faint outline of a house. She gulped down her fears, put a silencing charm on her feet and walked towards the tombstone of one Tom Riddle Sr., and sat down on the floor trying to think of rainbows and unicorns instead of getting scared out of her arse by the creepy surroundings. Now she just needed to wait. . . .

. . . . A long time. A few hours later or maybe less she couldn't really tell the sound of Harry and Cedric being jerked to the spot made her look up to see them. She stood up as quietly as possible and moved slightly.

She could see both of them looking around realizing they were not in Hogwarts anymore and the cup falling on the floor.

"Where are we?" she heard Harry say.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry. "Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked. Hermione was starting to get nervous. Wand at ready and already pointed at Cedric. She only had to move slightly in the direction of the rat to cast the spell before him.

"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.

They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.

"Someone's coming," Harry said suddenly and Hermione could feel her stomach on her mouth. Gryffindor's we're brave, yes. But they are not immune to fear.

The figure drew nearer and when Hermione was a couple of feet away she started walking behind the little man as quietly as possible even though she had a silencing charm on her feet.

As the rat and Hermione drew closer to the two boys Harry flinched in agony and his wand slipped through his fingers as he put his hands over his face. It took everything in Hermione not to do anything reckless. His knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."

Stupefy Hermione thought right before the rat said "Avada Kedavra!". A red light followed by a green light went toward Cedric. Hermione didn't know if it worked or not but because of the green light following no one noticed the red one. Immediately she stepped out from behind the rat and made her way to Cedric's body standing a couple of feet away.

Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He looked dead. But Hermione could faintly make out the slow rising of his chest and she thanked Merlin for it. It worked. With luck, her work was done. Cedric was fine. For now at least.

Hermione saw the rat pull Harry up to his feet dragging him along toward the marble headstone of Tom Riddle Se.

The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone.

"You!" Harry gasped finally realizing the identity of the rat. Hermione just stood there trying not to move forward and bitch sleep him or just throw the motherfucker out of a window.

But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away.

When he came back he was pushing along with him a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water.

The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Hermione was trying not to hurl or laugh at the image. Maybe she would cry. Maybe.

Now the rat was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness.

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of the rat's tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. And they heard the high, cold voice again.

"Hurry!"

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

"It is ready, Master."

"Now . . ." said the cold voice.

Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, Hermione actually had to swallow her vomit down and Harry let out a muffled yell.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind — but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that it was nothing like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face — no child alive ever had a face like that — flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and they saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface

Die! Die! Die! Hermione cheered hoping this was all some type of alternate universe in which the potion goes wrong and the little useless bald bastard drowned and never resurfaced.

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. A fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given — you will — revive — your master."

Hermione immediately looked away and did her best to cover her ears and don't let the clock fall as she heard the scream piercing through the night. She heard something fall to the ground, heard the rat's anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as something was dropped into the cauldron. Hermione was sure she was pale by now of how sick she was. She remembered reading this in the book but she never thought how scary all of this actually was in person. And bloody hell was she scared.

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony as Hermione saw him approach a rather sick-looking Harry.

"B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken . . . you will . . . resurrect your foe."

Hermione watched as Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly. . . . Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened. . . .

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Hermione, so that she couldn't see Harry o the Rat or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air. . . .

But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry . . . and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils . . .

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

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