The argument with Ron hadn't made Hermione's situation any better. In fact, the day after their falling out, Hermione overslept—an extraordinarily rare occurrence for her.
Though Hermione insisted she was fine, anyone who saw her tangled mop of hair and the dark circles under her eyes would know that Miss Granger was far from okay.
Even Hagrid had noticed something was off with her lately.
During Hermione's first Care of Magical Creatures lesson since being chosen as a champion, Harry and the others were paired with the Slytherins. For reasons unknown—perhaps Draco Malfoy had finally lost his nerve, or maybe Harry had spooked him in the woods during the Quidditch World Cup—Malfoy had been uncharacteristically well-behaved since the start of term, hardly acting like a typical Slytherin.
Once class began, Hagrid brought out several crates of Blast-Ended Skrewts. He instructed the Gryffindors and Slytherins to each choose one and take the now considerably larger creatures for a walk.
The Blast-Ended Skrewts were over three feet long now, with astonishing strength. They were no longer soft, shell-less slugs. Their appearance now resembled a cross between a giant scorpion and an elongated crab, covered in thick, glossy, grayish-white armor—though their heads and eyes remained impossible to pinpoint. These creatures had grown immensely powerful and were quite difficult to control.
As the students were dragged off by their Skrewts, Hagrid approached Hermione and Harry. He crouched down, demonstrating how to securely tie a rope to a Skrewt while casting a worried glance at Hermione, his broad face etched with concern.
"Hermione, I've heard about everythin'. So, you've got to compete now, as the school's champion?"
Hermione looked down at the remaining Skrewt she'd chosen and nodded slowly.
Hagrid's worry deepened. "And you still haven't figured out who put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
Hermione lifted her gaze to meet Hagrid's, asking cautiously, "So, Hagrid, you believe I didn't do it…?"
"Of course I believe you," Hagrid replied without hesitation. "You say it wasn't you, and I trust you. Dumbledore trusts you. In fact, all the professors believe you're tellin' the truth, Hermione."
"But…" Hermione lowered her head again, her voice heavy with dejection. "The only people standing by me are Harry and Neville…"
Hagrid looked at her in surprise. "Silly girl, how could you think that? Never mind that Fred and George got into a row in class yesterday defendin' you—two days ago, a Ravenclaw girl stood up for you in front of everyone!"
"Really… Hagrid?" Hermione raised her head, staring blankly at the kind, weathered face before her.
"'Course it's true!" Hagrid said indignantly. "When have I ever lied to you lot?"
Hagrid handed the rope to Harry, instructing him to tie it as shown, and while Harry wrestled with his Skrewt, Hagrid's gaze swept over the students on the lawn, a satisfied glint in his eyes.
"They look like they're havin' fun, don't they?" Hagrid said cheerfully.
Just as he spoke, Harry, who had barely finished securing his rope, was caught off guard when his Skrewt's tail exploded with a loud bang, propelling both the creature and Harry forward several feet.
"Looks like they're havin' fun, eh?" Hagrid repeated with a grin as Harry scrambled to his feet.
The two of them—Hagrid towering and Harry slight—watched as the students on the lawn were repeatedly yanked, toppled, and forced to clamber back up, only to be dragged again.
"Hermione, you be careful now," Hagrid said suddenly, sighing as his gaze returned to her, his face clouded with worry. "In the tournament, you've got to stay sharp. As the school's champion… anythin' could happen. Especially with what's been goin' on. That Rabastan Lestrange Harry took down at the Quidditch World Cup—he was one of the maddest Death Eaters out there. Back in the day, he'd only answer to You-Know-Who, no one else. And yet, he was among the lot that attacked you and Harry…"
Hermione's heart sank with Hagrid's words, a creeping dread settling over her. It felt as though she were being slowly ensnared in a vast, dark web, with an abyss of unknown terror at its center.
By the end of class, clouds had begun to gather in the sky, growing lower and darker until they nearly grazed the lake's surface. The air turned heavy and humid.
By dinnertime, the clouds had transformed into an impenetrable veil of ink.
Harry and Hermione found Professor McGonagall at the staff table.
Half an hour later, the sky was pitch-black. A bolt of lightning tore through the clouds, striking the distant mountains, and Hermione, after nearly a month, finally laid eyes on the potion she'd buried beneath a tree.
"Lumos," Hermione whispered, her wand casting a soft glow that illuminated the crystal vial in her hand. In the faint light, the ten milliliters of blood-red potion shimmered with a subtle crimson glow.
Professor McGonagall began casting protective spells like Protego Totalum around them, while Harry stepped closer to Hermione, noticing her nervous expression.
"Hermione, hold out your hand," he said.
"What for?" Hermione asked, puzzled, extending her hand. Suddenly, two warm hands enveloped hers.
"Ah!" Hermione instinctively tried to pull away, but Harry held on firmly.
"Harry… let go! Professor McGonagall's right there!" Hermione's face flushed with embarrassment as the warmth from his hands radiated through her.
"Just a moment… there!" Harry finally released her, and as Hermione raised her hand to swat at the boy who'd inexplicably taken liberties, she froze. A flood of unfamiliar knowledge about Animagi surged into her mind.
"My understanding of Animagi might be a bit… unconventional," Harry explained, "but I checked with Professor McGonagall. Becoming a magical creature Animagus is, strictly speaking, just a variant of the standard process. So, sharing my understanding with you should work."
Harry stepped back, giving Hermione space. Beside them, Professor McGonagall finished her protective enchantments. The two Animagi exchanged a glance and nodded.
"Very well, Miss Granger, you may begin your Animagus transformation," McGonagall said from behind her.
Hermione swallowed nervously. Pointing her wand at her heart, she chanted, "Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus," then uncorked the vial and downed the blood-red potion in one gulp.
Agony erupted within her. She collapsed, writhing unnaturally, gasping in pain. A flash of lightning split the night sky, illuminating the lake, followed by a deafening thunderclap.
Rain began to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour. The lake churned, waves crashing as rain pelted its surface. Amid the deluge, where Hermione had stood now crouched a drenched, shivering tabby cat.
That night, Hermione was so excited she could hardly sleep.
The next afternoon brought two consecutive Potions lessons. Professor Snape tasked them with brewing a specific antidote. As he glided silently to Harry and Hermione's table, his long black robes trailing, a knock sounded at the classroom door.
Colin Creevey slipped inside, flashing Harry a grin before cautiously approaching Snape.
"What is it?" Snape asked impatiently.
"Sorry, sir, I need to take Hermione Granger upstairs."
Snape's gaze dropped from his hooked nose to Colin, and Harry could see Colin's entire body tremble.
"Miss Granger has another hour of Potions," Snape said coldly. "She can go upstairs after class."
Colin's face reddened. "But, sir—sir, it's Mr. Bagman. Mr. Bagman needs her… All the champions have to go. I think it's for photos… I saw a photographer…"
With an irritated wave, Snape dismissed Hermione and Colin from the classroom.
"Where are you looking, Potter?" Snape snapped. "Your daffodil root is practically in the cauldron, you idiot! Five points from Gryffindor for your careless potion-making."
At dinner, Hermione rejoined Harry.
"Did you really go for photos?" Harry asked curiously.
"Mostly wand inspection—all the champions were there," Hermione said, biting off half a sausage. "But we did take photos too."
Hermione was still ostracized by most of Hogwarts. A bubble of empty space always formed around her at meals, with only Harry and Neville willing to sit beside her. Tonight, however, two others joined her: Ginny, who'd just argued with Ron and stormed over with her plate, and Luna, whom Hermione had only recently met.
"Ron's a complete idiot," Ginny said, munching on fried eggs. "We all know you didn't put your name in that goblet, but not only does he refuse to admit it, he's got the nerve to tell me I can't support you. I've met stubborn people, but Ron takes the cake."
Ginny grumbled about Ron between bites, while Luna peered curiously at a spot about a foot above Hermione's head from behind her colorful spectacles.
Noticing Luna's gaze, Hermione touched her hair but found nothing.
"Luna, what are you looking at?" she asked.
"The Wrackspurts above your head," Luna replied.
"Sorry, the what?" Hermione blinked, bewildered by the strange term.
"Wrackspurts," Luna repeated patiently, seeing Hermione's confusion. "They're invisible. They float into your ears and muddle your brain."
"A few days ago, I saw loads of Wrackspurts swarming around you," Luna continued. "I wanted to help shoo them away, but there were too many for me to handle alone. But today, there are far fewer—though I can still spot a couple… There's one!" She swatted at the air as if chasing an invisible insect.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, each catching a flicker of exasperation in the other's eyes.
The next morning at breakfast, students who subscribed to the Daily Prophet received their copies via owl. Within minutes, eyes turned toward Hermione—though, oddly, Harry received his share of curious glances too.
"Hey, Potter!" a Slytherin girl called out. "The paper says you hid in your dorm and cried all night because you weren't chosen as a Triwizard champion. Is that true?"
"You can't believe everything in the papers, Orsa," a Slytherin boy jeered. "It also claims Potter heroically took down those Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. As if! He's lucky he escaped two Death Eaters alive!"
The Slytherins burst into laughter, and Harry quickly understood why.
An owl dropped a rolled-up Daily Prophet in front of Hermione.
Harry and Hermione unfurled it. The front page's headline blared across their vision:
Hogwarts Hosts Triwizard Tournament: Why Was the Savior Left Off the Champion List?
Beneath the headline was a photo of Harry, crouched with his knees drawn up, gazing skyward with an expression of profound melancholy.
"Odd," Harry said, scratching his head. "Have I done that recently?"
Hermione studied the photo, then clapped her hands. "That's the face you made last week when you couldn't solve that probability problem!"
Below the image, a brief 500-word article introduced the Triwizard champions and the five judges. But the section about Harry Potter sprawled across two to three thousand words, mostly interviews—primarily with Slytherin students. Strangely, Hogwarts hadn't seen any unfamiliar visitors lately…
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