Chapter 3: Pause to ReflectChapter Text
Hermione spends the whole night tossing and turning, sick to her stomach with fear, and indecision, and guilt, and just…
This isn't fair! They won the war! This is over. Why is she back again? Back again…and just as confused as the first time, nothing quite making sense. Yet another mystery to unravel, but none of the childhood naivety to quell the panic. Hundreds of possibilities keep unfolding in her mind. Everything that could go wrong. Everything that's already gone horrifically wrong.
The weight of it is suffocating.
And as selfish as it is…she doesn't want to bear this alone. And— and she knows that her friends are children now, but they're still those familiar faces that she trusts more than anyone in the world. More than the Ministry. More than the adults that should be protecting them, but never seem to understand until it's too late. Every time.
It's always been her. And Harry. And Ron.
But they're so young. Didn't even know what the Mark was. At dinner, Harry asked Mr Weasley what a Death Eater was. It's not fair. She shouldn't put this on them.
She already has.
But time travel? The future?
They have to understand the severity. To keep them safe. Keeping them in the dark only ever made it worse.
She sits up, wand still in her grip. Digging in from where she's been clutching it all night. This is useless. No sleep for her tonight.
She gets up. Rubs at her face and tiptoes past Ginny and over to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Moves to the entrance to the tent whilst it boils.
Peeks out. All is still.
She casts the wards anyway. A buried reflex, this tent and these wards. Protego totalum. Salvio hexia. Cave inimicum.
She wraps her arms around herself. Steps back inside. Wanders over to the kitchen, eyes drifting over Ginny, Harry, Ron, the twins…
Sits down at the table.
They'll be leaving soon. As soon as they can. Back to the Burrow. But she'll take a few moments of peace before she has to make a decision.
She wonders what's happening with the Malfoys right now…
Where Bellatrix is. Has she left? Is she already with Voldemort? Has she captured Mad-Eye? Is she brewing polyjuice potion, ready for the year ahead?
Or will that not happen at all? She isn't Crouch. She might have a completely different plan to get to Harry without anyone noticing. The tournament was a good distraction. A good way for Harry to die tragically without anyone thinking anything of it. But she could do other things. Set the tents alight. Set up a train crash for the Hogwarts Express. Jinx his broom like Quirrell did, or a bludger like Dobby did. She could—
A hand waves in front of Hermione's face, and she looks up.
Charlie grins at her. "Your teakettle's starting to sound like a wailing banshee. Think that means it's ready."
Oh.
She hovers the water off the stove. Hovers a few mugs over. "Thank you. I was miles away."
"And using magic outside of Hogwarts..."
Hermione freezes. Oops.
Charlie just shakes his head. Zips his lips shut and hovers the teabags and milk over. "It's fine. A hover charm never did any harm." He laughs quietly at his own rhyme. Then laughs again. "Actually, that's a lie. I got into a lot of trouble as a kid for hovering the gnomes around. I stuck fake wings on them. Pretended they were dragons and followed them around. Observing them, I called it. I was a weird kid."
Hermione smiles. "Me too," she says quietly. "But…I think it pays off. I mean, look at you. All that practice obviously worked."
Charlie sits up straight, mock proudly. "It certainly did. Observation is a key skill with dragons, I'll have you know. That and a few nifty little tricks."
Hermione's head snaps up, tiredness suddenly gone. "Really?" she asks as casually as possible. "How do you control a dragon? It must be difficult, with their spellproof skin. How do you…keep them calm? Or protect yourself if they think you're a threat?"
Charlie raises an eyebrow. "Protect yourself? You're not looking to slay a dragon, are you?"
Hermione focuses on pouring them some tea. "Not slay one. I'm just curious what you do, if you can't use magic. They're strong animals. Powerful. How do you…show them you don't mean any harm?"
His eyes seem to sparkle, and he leans closer, sipping at his tea. "Knew you were a smart one. Looks like my little brother's chosen a good friend in you. See, you've got it already. It's not about controlling the dragon. It's controlling yourself. Patience. Calm. Feel the magic in the air. Dragons are ancient beings. They know more about magic than we could ever imagine. What do you think fuels their fire? That spark? You have to learn to feel your magic too. Show that you're at one with it, not controlling it. Not fighting it. That's what makes some wizards and witches more powerful. An inner power. Some call it confidence. Charisma. Like…Dumbledore. Or Professor McGonagall maybe. Have you ever noticed it? Seen it? Those people who draw the eye of the whole room with their presence? Their magic?"
Hermione stares back at him. Slowly shakes her head in…awe. Complete surprise. Goodness. That's so…interesting.
Charlie grins. Takes another sip of tea. "Think about it. Try to feel it. I reckon you'll be able to, soon enough. You have a bit of a presence yourself."
And he gets up, stretching. Scratches the back of his neck and steps into a pair of boots to head off out into campsite.
Hermione stays sitting at the table.
Well. New conversation with Charlie. Another thing to add to the growing list of differences in this…world. Timeline. Universe.
She doesn't really want to think about it being a different universe.
Sensing magic. She knows you can feel magic sometimes. When it's performed on you. Or wards, if they're strong enough. But she's never thought about practicing feeling magic. Fascinating.
Well, that's something to think about that's a bit more intriguing and less panic inducing.
She sips at her tea. Puts it down.
Casts a bluebell flame. Holds it in her hands.
Feels for her magic.
It wasn't long before Mr Weasley woke up the others, anxious to leave as soon as possible. They're almost back at the Burrow by the time the sun is beginning to rise. Trudging along the damp lane and up the garden path to the house.
Molly comes running out. "Oh, thank goodness! Thank goodness!" she cries, hurrying over, still in her slippers and clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet. Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup and a moving image of the Dark Mark clearly visible on the front page as Mrs Weasley throws it on the floor and rushes to hug the twins. "You're all alright! Oh boys!"
"Ouch! Mum, you're strangling us!" one twin complains.
Mrs Weasley just holds them tighter, letting out a sob. "I shouted at you before you left! The last thing I said to you, about not getting enough OWLs. Oh Fred…George…"
Mr Weasley eases her away and walks her into the house, whispering to her.
Hermione swallows harshly. Looks away as a lump forms in her throat. Avoids looking at Fred. Fred. Maybe she can do something about Fred.
Ginny hip bumps her. "You okay?"
Hermione hastily nods. Walks over to the back door. "Yes. Just tired. And missing my…parents, I guess. You're so lucky that your parents can understand these things. That you can talk to them about…magic. That they understand your world. It's…it's a bit tricky having two. Keeping secrets."
It's the only explanation she can think of for why she looks upset. And…
She looks over at Ron. Checks that he's listening too, as he takes off his shoes. Come on, Ron. See what's good in your life. What you have, that Hermione and Harry don't. Money and fame aren't everything.
She's not sure if he's listening. But Harry looks like he is. Gives her a half smile.
Ginny gives her a brief hug and kiss on the head and then says something about making her mum a cup of tea, heading inside with the others.
And now Ron and Harry share a look. Ron nods towards the stairs.
Hermione sighs. Nods back. Right. They all need to talk.
"I'm gonna go check and see if Hedwig has arrived, Mr Weasley, if that's alright?" Harry calls into the kitchen. "I sent a letter, but she hasn't got back yet."
"I'll go with you, Harry. She might be in my room," Ron calls too.
Hermione just follows them up the stairs. It's not like they need an excuse to talk to each other.
They race up the few flights of stairs to Ron's room, and Harry shuts the door behind them. Folds his arms. "Right. Hermione. What's going on? Because I think you've figured out a few things that we don't know about."
Hermione sits down on Ron's bed. Nods to herself.
Looks up at them. Smiles. "So…you know how every year something more and more crazy happens to us? And we always have to figure it out? And…well basically try to keep Harry alive?"
Ron laughs. Sits down next to her. "Well that's one way of putting it, yeah."
Hermione pats the bed. Waits for Harry to join them and scoots back so she can look at them both. "Well, this year is going to be even more of a nightmare. But you're right. I've already put a few pieces together. I know who conjured the Dark Mark. And I know why. And…I'm sorry, Harry, but they're going to try to…use you. Hurt you. They…want you to…they're working for You Know Who."
Harry looks down at the bed. Nods to himself, as if he was expecting it. "Right. I thought maybe…I had this dream. It— it made my scar hurt. And He was there. Voldemort."
The same. It's the same. Just like she'd thought...
Hermione reaches for his hand. "Did he mention a loyal servant? That was coming to help him? Something to do with…Hogwarts maybe? Or the World Cup?"
His head jerks up. "Yeah! How did you— He told Wormtail! That they had to be patient, wait for his most loyal servant to return to him. And they mentioned me. Needing me. Hermione, how did you—"
Ron stands up. "So You Know Who has some psycho supporter that— that's gonna come after Harry?! We should tell someone! The aurors! Or Dumbledore, or—"
"We don't have proof, Ron," Hermione sighs. "We might be able to tell. Once we get to Hogwarts, we could try. I think this supporter is going to go to Hogwarts in disguise. As the new DADA professor. They'll have to get a new one after Professor Lupin, so it's the perfect way to get near to Harry, like Quirrell did."
"…You know who it is, don't you?" Harry says, frowning at Hermione. "It's…is it the woman that made the Dark Mark?"
Ron pauses in his pacing. Turns to look at Hermione too. "What happened? After you went after Malfoy's mum? I mean, it looked like it had to be her. She was there. And she's a Malfoy, so…but you didn't think it was her."
Hermione shakes her head. Wrings her hands together. "It wasn't her. I— I saw who it was. I saw who obliviated Mrs Malfoy. Like Lockhart tried to do to you. That's why I knew so quickly what had happened to her. You see, it was Narcissa Malfoy's sister. She's the one who stole Harry's wand. Who was invisible in the Top Box. She's a Death Eater. Her name is—"
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Ginny says from the doorway.
They all spin to face her.
Ginny walks into the room and shuts the door behind her. "You lot need to be a bit more careful with your secret conversations, you know."
"Ginny!" Ron says. "Get out of my room! This is private! It's nothing to do with you, or—"
"How did you know her name?" Hermione blurts out. Can't help it. How the hell does Ginny even know Bellatrix exists?
Ginny skips over and perches on the bed next to Hermione, flicking her hair over her shoulders. "The thing with being the youngest? You get good at listening. I was there when you were all talking about Mrs Malfoy during dinner. Didn't you all notice how funny Dad got when we talked about her going to Azkaban? So I asked Bill. Asked if Dad was worried that Narcissa would break out of Azkaban like Sirius did. And guess what?"
Ron sits down on the floor, rolling his eyes at Ginny's dramatics. "What? Go on, spit it out if you want to be in on this so bad."
Ginny grins. Twirls an imaginary moustache. "Well, dear brother, prepare to be amazed. Because I have found out, that Narcissa Malfoy…is Sirius' cousin!"
Harry's mouth falls open. "The Malfoys? He didn't tell me that!"
Ron barks out a laugh. "Harry! You're related to Malfoy! Gross!"
Harry cringes. "Not by blood! Sirius is family, but he's not…so…Narcissa Malfoy…was Narcissa Black?"
Ginny nods. "Yep. The Black family. A dark wizarding family. They're like the Malfoys, but worse. See, Narcissa isn't Sirius' only cousin. She has two sisters. One was good, like Sirius. She caused a huge scandal by running away and marrying a muggleborn. Her family disowned her. The Malfoys still don't even acknowledge her existence. But the other sister…"
Hermione holds her breath, the tension unbearable. Will it be the same? Is the story the same? Is Bellatrix the same?
Ginny continues. "The other sister, was as evil as could be. A dark witch. The darkest witch of our time. She wasn't just a Death Eater, she was the Death Eater. You Know Who's right-hand man. Or woman, in this case."
Ginny stands up. Draws her wand, raising it in a fighting stance. "She was his lieutenant. Devoted to him. And she was deadly. People say no-one fought against her and lived. She could duel three people at the same time and win. She was ruthless. Mad. The sound of her laughter enough to send grown wizards running."
"And she's the one coming after Harry?!" Ron squawks.
Ginny pauses. Frowns.
Sits down on the carpet. "No. She's dead. That's what Bill told me. They caught her right after You Know Who vanished. She got sent to Azkaban at the same time as Sirius…and she died. Ages ago. Couldn't fight off the dementors and refused to eat. They think she starved to death."
Ron flops onto the bed in relief. "Thank Merlin. Cos I don't think we're up for that. A battle with a psycho warrior witch? Sirius has some crazy relatives, no offence, Harry."
Harry doesn't reply. He looks pale. Resting his head in his hands.
He looks up at Hermione. "Most faithful servant. Mrs Malfoy's sister," he says tiredly.
Oh, Hermione just wants to hug him. To tell him it will all be alright. That he doesn't have to worry. That she'll protect him. That everything will be okay.
She scoots up next to him on the bed. Leans sideways against him. "Harry…I don't know how…but it was her. I saw her last night. Her name is Bellatrix Lestrange. I know what she looks like, and I watched her obliviate her sister. I think…I think Mrs Malfoy has been hiding her sister somehow. Somehow got her out of Azkaban and…but Bellatrix got fed up with hiding. They were talking. Arguing. Bellatrix said she'd had enough. And then she stupefied Mrs Malfoy. Obliviated her. When I met you in the woods, I was running away from Bellatrix. I don't know if she saw me."
Harry nods against her. "So this is like last year all over again. Another murderer out to get me."
Hermione squeezes his knee. "Yes. But this is different to last year too. We know what she's up to. We know who she is. And…"
She takes a deep breath.
Casts a muffiliato charm on the room, and stands up. Walks over to the window and looks out over the fields. "There's something else. Something I need to tell you all. Something…that I'm trusting you all to know. Because I love all of you. You're all my family and— and if we're all going to be safe this year then— then I have to— you need to know—"
She clenches her fists.
Turns to face them. Three curious, waiting young faces, looking up at her.
She holds back the odd urge to cry. "You all trust me, don't you?" she asks quietly.
They all nod. Instantly. Exchange worried looks.
She smiles through a shaky sigh. "Okay then. Here's the truth…"
It is a weight lifted off once they know she's not the real Hermione. Once she's told them what happened last time, with Moody, and Crouch, and the Goblet of Fire.
But at the same time, it's agonising. And opens up more questions than she'd anticipated.
"So where's our Hermione," Ron asks, still looking at her oddly. "Is she…back in your time? Or world. Right? Different world?"
Hermione taps her wand against her lip and reaches for another sandwich. They'd convinced Mrs Weasley to let them eat in their room so they can rest. "I…suppose. I don't really know. I just…woke up here. And everything is almost the same. Everything, in fact. Except instead of Barty Crouch, Bellatrix is the one who's escaped."
Harry reaches past her to grab an apple. "We'll need to work out how to get our Hermione back then, once this is all over. But first, we should think of a way to catch Bellatrix before she can put my name in the goblet or bring You Know Who back to life."
Hermione chokes on her sandwich. Whirls to face him. "No! We can't trap her. Harry, what Ginny said was true. She's an insanely powerful witch. No, we have to make sure there's no way she even suspects you know anything. All three of you. You can't confront her. Can't question her. You have to seem completely ignorant. It's the only way. Because as soon as she knows we know…that's our advantage blown. Do you see?"
Harry opens his mouth to argue, but Ron lays a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "She's right, mate. It's like…a chess game, you know? The only advantage we have, is playing a strategy, and being able to predict some of her moves."
Hermione grins. "Exactly! And things should go our way. We'll know as soon as she puts your name in the goblet."
"Which means I have to fight a ruddy dragon," Harry complains.
Hermione winces. Yeah. Sorry, Harry. He really does have the worst luck.
"We can prepare," she reassures him. "I'll help you. I promise, Harry. You're not alone with all this. I'm going to keep you safe. None of this is your fault. And I swear, the second you're in danger, I'll—"
Harry laughs. "This is so weird. You're like…really an adult, aren't you? That's why you've been acting so strange. You keep looking at us like we're little kids."
"You are!" Hermione says exasperatedly. Then bites her lip at their offended faces. "To me. Not in a bad way. You're just young, you know? My friends are ten years older than you. I just think you should all get to…enjoy being teenagers without having to worry about these things. It isn't fair. On any of you."
Ginny scoffs. "We're used to it. There is a Dark Lord on the rise. But it's fine! We can still have fun. I'm quite looking forward to this tournament. Sounds like nothing too bad will happen until summer."
"Except fighting a dragon," Harry jumps in again, but this time a bit more jokingly.
"And dancing," Ron whines. "A ball. Why us?"
Then he looks up at Hermione, a sudden thought. "You know the future. Which girls should we ask to this dance? No point asking ones that will say no."
Ginny brightens up too. "Ooh, yes! Who are we all dating ten years in the future?"
Uh oh. Umm…
Hermione stands up, brushing some crumbs off her and vanishing them. "Nope. I'm not telling you about the future-future. It just feels…wrong. I shouldn't change events that much. Influence you. And my future might not even be your future. So I really don't—"
"Well, who are you dating?" Ginny prods, actually prodding her as she stands up too. Poking her. "Seeing as it's a whole different universe, it won't matter if you tell us."
Hermione bats her fingers away. "No-one! I'm not— not dating anyone. It's not really— I mean I've— but recently—"
Ginny bursts out laughing. "Oh you're still so awkward! Even after ten years you won't talk to me about boys. Not since Lockhart."
Argkfdg—
Hermione sinks onto the bed in embarrassment, head in her hands.
"Lockhart?" Harry almost whimpers.
"No! I didn't—" Hermione groans. "I just thought he was clever. I admired him. Until…I was young! I didn't notice how fake, and phoney and—"
"How much of a complete knob he was?" Ron says.
Hermione looks up, groaning again. "Language, Ronald. But yes."
They fall into silence. Hermione lies down on the bed. Stares at the ceiling. Should she have told them? They're not mature enough for all this. Especially Ginny. Still too young to get it.
Although maybe it's just bravado. Ginny's always been like that. Ever since Tom Riddle…
"What about Mrs Malfoy?" Harry asks quietly.
Hermione sits up. Looks over at him fondly. His concerned expression.
He shrugs. "She's a Malfoy, and she's horrible, but…Azkaban? She's innocent."
Hermione can almost see his brain working. The conflict. He still has that good verses evil mindset. Innocent. Guilty. Right and wrong with no overlap.
But he's starting to understand. He will soon, once he spends more time with Sirius.
Sirius. He's probably thinking about Sirius too.
Hermione shakes her head. "She is innocent. But…again, this didn't happen before. I don't know what's happening to her. Hopefully…Lucius Malfoy has a way of getting what he wants. His wife was obliviated. That's enough proof to say she was attacked. Was the victim."
"Her own sister," Harry says bitterly. "Sounds like this Bellatrix is just as heartless as You Know Who."
Hermione starts to nod. Then pauses. That's not quite right. "I think…no. She's not like You Know Who, Harry. She's almost…the opposite of him. He's…cold. She's hot."
Ginny snorts. "She's hot? Alright, Hermione. Whatever does it for you."
"Ginny!" Ron shouts. "You shouldn't— You're thirteen, don't say stuff like that! And Hermione wasn't even saying that!...right, Hermione?"
Hermione feels her face heat up. "Of course not! I didn't mean— well, she does actually happen to be a very attractive witch...objectively speaking... But— What I meant is that Voldemort is unfeeling. He uses people. Treats people like objects. And Bellatrix…well she kind of does too, seeing as she thinks we're dirt beneath her feet, but she's not cold. Not unfeeling. She's doing all of this out of feeling. Out of passion. That's what doesn't make sense!"
She gets to her feet. Begins pacing around the room. "I can't understand how she's been in hiding for this long. How Narcissa has been keeping her a secret. Bellatrix could easily overpower Narcissa. And she did. It's like she was…letting Narcissa hide her. But why? Bellatrix is devoted to the Death Eaters. She'd die for the cause. Why would she not go looking for Voldemort sooner?"
Silence greets her.
She looks around at them.
Harry shrugs. "Dunno. You're the one that usually figures out this stuff. I'm sure you'll get it soon. Until then…what's the plan, Hermione?"
Hermione nods. Right. Don't get ahead of yourself, Hermione. "The plan is, we go to Hogwarts. We keep our heads down. We do nothing suspicious, and we wait. We wait for proof of what Bellatrix is up to. And we watch each other's backs. If you do see her getting up to something, then you come to me, okay? You don't do this alone."
Ron pulls at some stray loose threads on the carpet. "You say that, but it sounds like you want to do this alone. Like…I dunno, you want to…go after her or something."
What? That's ridiculous. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Bellatrix if she can help it. What does—
"Do you know her somehow?" Harry asks. "Do you want revenge? Did she…do something to one of us?"
Hermione tries to stay neutral. Holds her hand at her side as it itches to come up and touch her arm. The scar.
She shakes her head. "She's just one of his followers. I've heard of her, that's all. Everyone knows her. She's infamous. She's…done a lot of awful things. I just don't want her hurting anyone."
They…don't seem convinced.
She walks over to look out the window again. At the bright blue sky. Nods to herself. "Now come on. Enough of this. I bet you lot are itching to play a game of Quidditch after talking about it non-stop all weekend. How about a friendly game? I'm sure Bill or Charlie and the twins will join in with you."
She hears movement behind her. "I'll go get my firebolt!" Harry says excitedly. "Meet you guys outside. You playing, Hermione?"
She turns around and laughs. "Still awful at flying, sorry. I'll just watch. I'm perfectly happy with a good book, and I actually need to reread some of them. It's been ages since I studied potions or herbology or—"
Harry and Ron share a look. They're making fun of her, she just knows it.
Harry shakes his head and makes his way out of the room. "You'll be fine. Better than fine. You need to practice not using magic."
He disappears down the stairs. Ginny heads after him. "He's right. You've been using nonverbal magic, Hermione. Might want to stop doing that."
Oh. Oops.
She checks her wand is still in her pocket. Thinks about maybe leaving it upstairs for a while, get out of the habit of using it for everything.
Doesn't. Keeps it there. It…still doesn't feel quite right being unarmed. Just in case. Especially with Bellatrix and Voldemort just…out there.
And maybe Barty Crouch Junior. Where the hell is he?
Ron clears his throat.
Oh. Ron's still here. Sat on his bed and fiddling with a hole in his Chudley Canons duvet cover. "Guess I'll go get a few of the old cleansweeps from the shed," he mutters. "Seeing as not all of us have firebolts."
Hermione sighs.
Sits down next to him. "Yeah. Harry can be…a little tactless sometimes, can't he? Doesn't think about…money. But he means well, Ron. He doesn't notice…because he doesn't see it. You know he told me you're the first family he had? That before your Mum hugged him, he never knew what that was like? Having a mother to care for him? You know, sometimes, he gets jealous of you too."
Ron looks away. "I'm not jealous. I'm not. Only a dick would be jealous of Harry. He hasn't got parents. And he's always got some nutter coming after him. People are always gossiping about him, and staring. Who'd want that?"
Hermione frowns. Searches his face.
Then stands up. "You're right. You'd have to be a bit of a dick to think he's better off just because he has a vault full of gold. Money isn't everything. But it does help. So if you're ever worried about—"
He glares at her. "We're fine. We don't need pity. Didn't you hear? I've got a family. I've got brooms too. And a new wand. And Dad knows loads of people at the Ministry. They even interviewed him for the paper last night. And Bill's a cursebreaker. And Charlie's a dragonkeeper. We don't need money. We're doing fine with what we've got."
Hermione smiles at him. "Exactly," she says quietly. "Now come on. I'll show you a few spells to polish and care for the cleansweeps in the shed. Get them up to scratch."
And she turns and heads off down the stairs. Hears Ron scurry after her. "You know spells for brooms? When did you bloody learn that?"
Hermione laughs. "I learnt from you. You're all just as obsessed with Quidditch in my time. I know way more about broomsticks and quidditch players than I need to. Guess some of the knowledge has filtered through from you lot and Viktor."
"Viktor? Viktor Krum?!" Ron roars from behind her, tripping down some steps.
She reaches the bottom of the stairs and turns to grin at him. "Oh, didn't I mention that? We often hang out with Viktor when he's in England. He's a good friend. He thinks you're a great keeper."
Ron's face flashes through an alarming number of colours. Parchment to puce and back again.
Hmm. Maybe that was too much.
She walks out into the sunshine, Harry and Ginny already waving them over. Time to watch some quidditch. Again.
Chapter 4: Board the TrainNotes:
Hi folks!
Thanks for the comments and kudos. Here's another chapter, and once again not all the dialogue belongs to me.
Enjoy!
Chapter Text
The long summer days slowly draw in over the next couple of week, the heat fading away and leaving an unsettling sense of loss hanging in the air. Unease. Every morning, Hermione wakes up expecting to be back in her own house with only Crookshanks for company and a meeting to go to. But no. Each morning, rain or shine, Crookshanks or no Crookshanks, she's still in the past. At the Burrow.
And every morning, her, Harry, Ron, and Ginny anxiously check the Prophet for any sign of Bellatrix, or news on Narcissa.
Nothing. Not a word of it. Just more speculation on the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark, but no word of the Malfoys having anything to do with it. No trials or hearings.
Lucius must have lined some pockets.
After a week passes, they barely give it a glance. Distract themselves with games, and water fights, and de-gnoming the garden. It's a welcome distraction. Allows Hermione the headspace to breathe.
But it can't be held off forever, and soon the start of the school term rolls around. Summer is over. Bring on the coming storm.
And there is a storm today. The rain is becoming heavier and heavier as the Hogwarts Express chugs further north. The sky is so dark, and the windows so steamy, that the lanterns had been lit by midday.
But in a way…
It's also comforting. So familiar. The noise of the train. The smell. Putting her trunk up above the seats. Sitting with Crookshanks in her lap, a book in reach, and every face that moves past through the corridor bringing back so many memories.
Lots of people stop to say hello as the afternoon progresses. Seamus, Dean, and Neville, all excitedly talking about the World Cup. Seamus especially. For a while, Hermione just curls up in her seat and listens. Enjoys watching them chatter away.
Hours pass. Soon Seamus and Dean leave, and rather than letting thoughts of the tournament and Bellatrix return, Hermione continues looking through The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, needing to remind herself what level of magic people will be expecting of her. She can probably get away with magic that's a bit advanced for her age, but eyebrows might raise if she starts performing NEWT spells with ease.
She's brought out of her reading as Ron accidentally knees her in the side, reaching up to the luggage rack to open his trunk and pull out his Viktor Krum figurine.
"Check this out, Neville." He drops it into an awed Neville's hands. "We saw him right up close too. We were in the Top Box—"
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."
Everyone turns to the doorway where Draco is leaning, Crabbe and Goyle at his back, as usual.
"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," Harry says coolly, getting to his feet.
Hermione stands up too. Quickly closes Ron's trunk and tucks his dress robes inside before Malfoy can spot them and make fun of him like last time.
"What's this? Got Granger tidying up for you, Weasley?" Draco sneers. "She going to be your little housewitch one day? It makes sense. You two are made for each other. You're both used to living in filthy hovels."
"Eat dung, Malfoy!" Ron says, turning the colour of his hair. "At least my family aren't a load of psychos that get off on hurting people who can't fight back! Or hurting each other. How is your mum? She remembered who she is yet?"
Shit.
Hermione turns to face Malfoy, wand at the ready—
Oh.
Draco looks…
He takes a step back. Eyes wide. "What did you say to me? How dare you! How— you'd better watch it, Weasley!"
His words are threatening, but he hasn't drawn his wand. In fact, he's slowly edging out into the corridor, looking over his shoulder. "Come on Crabbe. Goyle. We're nearly at the castle. We'd better see if we can get the Weasley stink out of our robes."
And he's already stalked off.
What…
She shares a look with Ron and Harry, who seem just as confused as she is. Does…does Draco know? How much does he know about what his father is up to? Or…does he know about Bellatrix? Has he been living with her? Does Lucius know about Bellatrix?
"Uhh, I'd better go and get changed into my robes too," Neville says awkwardly. "Thanks for showing me your figurine, Ron. It's really cool. Here."
He hands the miniature Viktor Krum back to Ron and leaves, closing the sliding door behind him.
Ron drops into a seat. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that. It just came out. But— but that was weird, right? Malfoy looked—"
"Frightened," Harry says, still looking out into the corridor and frowning. "He seemed nervous. You don't think he knows, do you? About…you know who?"
Ron blinks. "Do you mean You Know Who…or you know, her?"
Hermione laughs quietly. Sits down with him and pulls Crookshanks onto her lap. "You're right. We need better code names. It's confusing."
"Snakeface and crazy lady?" Harry suggests with a grin.
Hermione rolls her eyes. "A bit too obvious. And you shouldn't use crazy as an insult. Especially for a woman. Some of the most brilliant women in history have been labelled as crazy by men just because they didn't conform to societal expectations of womanhood."
Harry reaches for a leftover cauldron cake. "What, like…trying to start a war and killing people because their blood isn't pure enough? Sure, Hermione. She sounds brilliant. Such a brilliant role model."
Okay, he has a point. Bellatrix probably deserves the crazy title. But still. It's the principle.
She watches the raindrops slide down the windowpane. The storm is really coming in now. They're going to get soaked on their way to the castle. They did, if she's remembering right. "I just don't want us to underestimate her," she thinks aloud. "She'll have a plan. And it seems like…maybe she's been planning for a long time. Or Narcissa did. Draco knows something, I'm sure of it."
"Did he know before?" Harry asks. "In your time, did he know about the Death Eaters?"
Hermione slowly turns to face him. Shrugs. "We never asked how much he knew. Not when he was this young. He made some comments but…no. I don't think he ever knew the true horrors of what his father was up to."
"So Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater?" Ron whispers loudly, looking around their compartment.
Hermione stands up. "He was one in the first war. And he will be again, if You Know Who comes back. But he's following more out of fear than anything. They all are. Except Bellatrix. They're tied to him by the Mark, and they can't exactly say no. It's…quite sad, really."
Ron scoffs. "He deserves it. He shouldn't have signed up to begin with. Serves him right after what he did to those muggles. It's sick. Let's see him be scared for a change."
"No-one deserves to be scared for their life, Ron," Harry suddenly says. Firmly. Very seriously, for his still youthful face.
And Hermione recognises that look in his eyes. She wishes she didn't. Feels her heart weep to see that look on him so early. The look that clouded his eyes more and more as the war went on.
He clenches his jaw. Reaches for his trunk. "Let's get into our robes too. Malfoy's right. We'll be there soon."
Everyone begins getting their trunks down in uncomfortable silence, the rain hitting the window the only sound.
Hermione squeezes Harry's shoulder. "Remember that spell I taught you to keep your glasses dry. And we can do the same for our robes, it's stormy out."
He nods. Smiles at her quickly and looks away.
Ron clears his throat. "Thanks. And I didn't really mean it about…well I did, but…"
He drifts off. Looks at Harry. Then nods firmly to himself. "Let's keep an eye on Malfoy this year too then. I mean, his whole family is completely…uhh...not the best. If he's scared, we should keep an eye on him. Even if he's a prat. He can't help it if his whole family are nutters, right? And it's not like Crabbe and Goyle have the brains to help him out."
Hermione's mouth falls open. She doesn't think she's ever been this shocked in her life. Where did that come from? Empathy? Emotional intelligence? From Ron?
And for Draco?
Harry seems just as surprised, but shakes himself out of it quicker than her. "You…yeah. Guess you're right. I mean… I wouldn't have made it through first year without you two. Or second year. Or any year. I'd hate it if the Dursleys were the only family I had. They don't really count."
Ron chuckles, opening his trunk and cringing at his dress robes before moving them out the way to get to his regular school robes. "Nah, mate. They're not your family. Not even close. Glad we got you right out of there this summer. It's been wicked having you stay. Both of you. Way better than when it's just me and Ginny and the twins. Do you know how many years I had to hang out with her and her friend Luna? I mean that witch is crazy— uh— I mean—"
He looks up at Hermione. "I mean brilliant. Different? Anyway, they were a nightmare."
Hermione smiles. "Luna is quite quirky, yes. And brilliant. Now go on, get ready. I'll go get changed in the girls' bathroom."
She grabs her folded robes from the top of her trunk and heads for the door.
"Watch out for trolls!" Harry jokes from behind her as she slides the door shut. She shakes her head, still smiling to herself.
Idiots.
Her idiots.
They did get soaked, despite the impervius charms. They managed to get to the castle alright, but Hermione had forgotten that Peeves had chosen tonight to throw water balloons at people as they entered. One got Ron right in the head, and Hermione almost got strangled by Professor McGonagall as she skidded on the wet floor, grabbing Hermione around the neck for balance.
Just like last time. Why does that part of the timeline have to be the same?
And the sorting seems to last forever. Not that Hermione is able to stomach dinner once it does arrive. She's too nervous for that.
Harry doesn't seem to be faring much better, pushing food around his plate. Ron, on the other hand…
Well, his plate is piled as high as ever. And he seems to have picked up some of Mrs Weasley's fussing habits.
He holds out yet another dessert to Hermione. "Treacle tart, Hermione!" he says, deliberately wafting the smell towards her. "Or you, Harry. It's your favourite. No use starving yourselves just because you're waiting for…uhh…" He glances at Neville and Dean. "Waiting for something brilliant to happen," he says more quietly.
Hermione's eyes dart to the teacher's table. And then the door. She knows Mad-Eye isn't there. No Bellatrix. But she still can't help checking. Can't help checking where her wand is every few seconds, even though she knows it's right there in her pocket where—
The Hall begins to quieten. Dumbledore has gotten to his feet, everyone but Ron finished with pudding.
"So!" Dumbledore says, smiling around at them. "Now that we're all fed and watered, I must once again ask for your attention as I give out a few notices!"
Hermione taps her foot against the side of the bench, making herself face forward as her thoughts ping around her head once more.
Any moment now. She'll be here. At Hogwarts. Right here. Teaching them. Bellatrix Lestrange will be—
There are gasps of outrage all around her.
"What? No quidditch?!" Harry croaks out, scandalised. "Why? I didn't know that—"
"— due to an event which will be starting in October, and continuing throughout most of the school year, taking up our teachers' time and energy," Dumbledore continues, smiling knowingly. "But I am sure you will enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year—"
And with a deafening rumble of thunder, the doors to the Great Hall bang open.
Hermione jumps almost a foot in the air, still taken by surprise, even though she knew this was coming.
She gives Harry and Ron a look, catching Ginny's eye down the table, and then turns around, craning her neck to see past everyone else's curious heads.
And…it is Mad-Eye Moody. Or it looks like him. Same scarred face and crooked nose. Stood framed in the doorway and lowering his hood as lightning crackles over the enchanted ceiling.
…is it Bellatrix?
It's dramatic enough.
'Mad-Eye' begins walking down the central aisle towards the teachers' table, long wooden staff clunking on the stone floor with each stride, echoing through the silently staring room. He limps heavily towards Dumbledore. Reaches out his hand for the Headmaster to shake.
Dumbledore takes it, leaning forward to mutter quietly to the other wizard.
Or witch.
Is it?
Hermione frowns. Squints.
This is harder than she'd thought it would be. What if it is Mad-Eye?
Harry subtly jerks his head towards Moody and raises an eyebrow. "Brilliant?" he mouthes.
Hermione frowns further. Looks back over to the staff table. Tries to look for certain postures. Mannerisms. Signs of Lestrange.
Mad-Eye flops down in a chair at the staff table, pulls a plate of sausages towards him, sniffs one, and then takes a small dagger from his pocket and spears a sausage with it to eat it off the blade.
Hermione almost throws her hands in the air in exasperation. Argh. Well that could be her. Or not. Why…
She freezes.
Moody is still looking down. But his enchanted eye has looked up.
Is looking at Hermione. Right at her. She's sure of it.
Look away. Look away, idiot!
She tears her eyes away. Focuses on Dumbledore instead.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody!" Dumbledore says brightly, smiling around at the sea of stunned faces and beginning a feeble round of applause that only Hagrid takes him up on.
Moody doesn't seem to care in the least, ignoring the Hall of students completely. Hermione can finally breathe again as the magical eye darts from her and continues scanning the room, spinning in all directions.
And then Moody reaches under the table. Pulls out a hip flask and takes a swig.
Ron nudges her in the side. "Look! Just like you said!" he mumbles behind his hand, obviously trying to be discreet.
Hermione slowly nods. It does seem to be signs of polyjuice, like before. If only they could test it. That would be evidence, polyjuice in the flask.
Or it could just be alcohol. She's seen the real Moody drink from a flask too. That's the point.
Oh. The real Moody. Is he…trapped in a trunk already?
That would be proof too. And a lot more convincing…
Now how could they open the trunk? Or get into the DADA classroom when no-one was around?
She puts her head in her hands and frowns down at the table as she thinks, letting the hubbub around her drift into a background rumble. She already knows what they're talking about. The tournament. The Cup. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.
Should she let it all just happen? The same as before?
But poor Harry. And Cedric. She can't let that happen.
If Voldemort doesn't return this year…she has no idea what will happen!
…But it would stop him. Stop the second war. They could go after the Horcruxes whilst he's still weak.
But what if he hides them in new places? Or makes more?
It would stop a war! What's stopping you? Make a plan to stop Bellatrix, and then take down Voldemort before he even has a chance! This is a different world! Save this one from the War!
She could make it so much worse…
Sirius could live! Harry will have a family!
Harry has a family. Is Sirius actually a good role model? Better than Remus? Or Arthur?
Remus could live too. And Tonks. And Fred. And Cedric. You just have to stop Bellatrix now.
…or Bellatrix will get the Kiss, like Crouch did.
She might get it sooner if you tell Dumbledore who she really is!
…if it is her. Is it?
Hermione looks up.
Oh.
The Hall is almost empty, Ginny grinning down at her, and Ron and Harry looking at her in concern.
"Finally," Ginny says. "We called your name enough times. I was going to drag you out of here, but Harry said you had your thinking-face on, so we thought we'd leave your brain to do its thing. So?"
Hermione stands up. Checks around for eavesdroppers.
And more specifically, Mad-Eye.
But all the professors seem to have left already.
She shakes her head and starts heading for the doors. "I'm not sure. This is harder than I expected. I'll need some time to plan things out."
"Well we have until Halloween for things to get going. That's when the champions are picked," Ron says. "After that we'll be busy though, making sure Harry doesn't drown or get his face fireballed off…uhh, I mean, sorry, mate."
Hermione stops. Steps back into an alcove and waits for them to huddle closer to her. "I've been thinking," she whispers. "Maybe Harry doesn't have to compete. What if we make that the goal? We know they're going to try to put his name in, whoever it is. So what if we stop them?"
"Sounds good to me," Harry whispers. "Don't exactly want to enter a competition with a death toll."
"And Tom waiting at the end," Ginny says quietly. "We should stop him. It's…I want to help too, Hermione. So what's the plan?"
Hermione squeezes Ginny's arm sadly. "Haven't figured that part out yet. Sorry. I don't know. I don't even know if it's her. How can we stop a piece of parchment falling into a goblet, when—"
"Well, well. Miss Granger. You seem very…informed, of the events taking place this year," a low, nasal voice drifts towards them.
Of course. Snape. Slinking out from behind a suit of armour and glaring down at them, arms folded disapprovingly.
Hermione almost wants to smile at him. Here he is. Different world, still spying on Harry and catching them in their little planning sessions. It's strangely nostalgic.
So she does smile. Just slightly. "I'm always well-informed, Professor. I am an insufferable Know It All, after all." She holds in laughter at his twitch of surprise. Continues. "I've read about the tournament. You see, so that it's impartial, they use an enchanted goblet instead of a person as a judge. It's like the Sorting Hat. Choosing the best candidate for—"
"Enough. Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for wasting my time and dallying in the corridors when you should all be up in the Common Room. Or need I remind you that you are all still underage and that curfews still apply? Even for the great Boy Who Lived."
Harry opens his mouth in protest, but Hermione puts a hand to his back to quieten him. "You're right, Professor," she says softly. "We should be getting back. We were just worried about Harry. This tournament seems so dangerous. And we seem to have a habit of getting mixed up in things. Hogwarts is never very safe for Harry, is it?"
Come on. They need an extra pair of eyes. Unbiased eyes. See Harry for who he is. He's not James. He's just a scared kid. Snape needs to know that Harry doesn't want the glory. It's someone else pulling the strings.
Snape's eyebrows pinch in a frown, his gaze practically drilling into Hermione.
She looks away. Looks at Harry's eyes. Gives him a reassuring smile.
Harry smiles back awkwardly. "Yeah. We were just trying to figure out how to stay out of trouble, Professor. Guess it didn't really work out."
Snape hums skeptically. Crowds closer to Harry. "A likely story. Don't lie to me, Potter. It may work on your ever-growing number of fawning fans, but your measly excuses won't work on me. Now get. To. Bed. All of you."
Hermione quickly nods and tugs at Harry's sleeve, urging him away as he settles into a staring contest with Snape. Something that…could be good or bad, seeing as Snape is a legilimens. She never found out if he could perform it without a wand...
"Let's go, Harry," she whispers.
And then more loudly as they all walk away up the stairs. "Goodnight, Professor!"
Just to mess with him. Intrigue him. She needs him suspicious. Watching. He might catch Bellatrix out, if he's on the lookout.
"Five points for your cheek, Miss Granger," Snape snaps after them, already sweeping off down the stairs to the dungeons.
"Greasy bat," Ron mutters. "What was that about? What were you being nice to him for?"
Hermione smiles to herself, jogging up the stairs. "Haven't you noticed he always seems to be watching us? Catching us out? Always the first to notice what we're up to?"
She stops at the foot of the moving staircase and waits as they all nod at her confusedly.
She steps on. "Well. If he's watching us, and someone else is watching us, he might notice what's going on. Like he did with Quirrell, remember? If he knows we don't want Harry in the tournament, he'll realise what's going on sooner, and might be able to help."
Harry snorts. "Snape? Help us? When has he ever done that?"
Hermione stops. Leans against the banister and raises an eyebrow at him. "When hasn't he helped us? Helped you? Think about it. He's horrible to you, but if you ignore that…?"
Harry frowns.
"He did try to stop Quirrell," Ron says. "And stop him from jinxing your broom."
"And he tried to save us from Padfoot when he thought he was a murderer. And Professor Lupin, even when he was a werewolf," Harry reluctantly agrees.
Ginny huffs. "Okay, you guys need to catch me up on a lot of details about your adventures. No-one told me Snape was even there, and I thought the werewolf thing was just a rumour. You didn't even tell me about the time-travelling until a few weeks ago!"
"That's because you're still a little girl," Ron says. "You shouldn't know any of this. Hermione is right. It's dangerous. You should just forget about this, go back to the Common Room and—"
"I'm one year younger than you!" Ginny shouts back. "One! I'm older than— than Harry was when he fought the basilisk. Than you when you went after the Philosopher's Stone and ended up in the Hospital Wing. Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't be part of your adventures—"
"They're not adventures," Harry snaps. "And if you think they are, then Ron's right, and you really are still a little kid who needs to grow the hell up."
A horrible silence falls around them. Ginny swallows harshly, holding back tears. "Don't you worry. I stopped being a kid the moment I got here. The moment a Dark Lord took over my mind, and my body, and my soul. Nearly took my life. I'm sorry I used the wrong words to tell my friends that I wanted to be included."
And with that, the tears begin to fall. Her bottom lip wobbles. She rubs at her face furiously, and runs up the last few steps. Shouts a shaky "balderdash" to the Fat Lady, and slips inside the portrait hole before they have time to do anything but shout after her.
Ron kicks the side of the staircase. "But she is young! What am I supposed to do? She's my little sister. I'm supposed to protect her, not involve her in this…crap! It's for her own good!"
He stomps up the steps. Stops at the top.
Turns around. "Right? It's better this way. Even if she gets stroppy about it."
Hermione follows him up with a sigh, climbing through the portrait hole tiredly and coming to stand in front of the fire in the Common Room. It's empty. The sound of distant chatter coming from up in the dormitories. "You're all too young to be dealing with this," she says, staring into the flames and warming her hands. "I'll talk to Ginny later. Make sure she knows we're not going to leave her out. But—"
She shakes her head. Looks at them both. At their too-long hair and scruffy robes. The circles under their eyes. Worry on their faces.
Stupid. They're too young. Hermione shouldn't have told them. Shouldn't have given in. They're her safety blanket. She's falling into old habits. Forgetting that she's the adult this time.
She clears her throat uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I…shouldn't have told you all about this. I should have let you enjoy this year, as much as you can. It…I'll figure this out. I'm the adult here. Tomorrow, I'll tell Dumbledore, and we'll get all this sorted out."
Harry grabs her arm, making her jump.
It's the arm with the scar.
He let's go, searching her face. "We're in it together, Hermione. Like always. All three of us."
Ron nods. "Yeah, who gives a rat's arse how old you are? You seem pretty much the same to me."
Hey! The same as a fifteen-year-old?!
"In a good way!" he hastily adds. "You always know what to do. And…you said we needed proof. That we can't tell anyone yet. I mean…what are we gonna say? That we just have a feeling the new DADA professor is secretly a witch and out to get Harry? It sounds bonkers!"
Harry steps closer, looking around the room for eavesdroppers. "It's like you said. If she finds out we know, but they don't believe us, she'll know we're onto her. If it is her, anyway. We need to find that out first. And to do that…I think I have an idea."
Hermione bites her lip.
Should she go along with this?
They are being quite sensible. And are making a very good counter argument.
She sinks down to sit on the carpet near the fire. Gives them a lopsided smile. "What's your idea, then?"
Harry grins. Looks at Ron, and they both sit down with her.
"Okay, it's not much," Harry says, pushing up his glasses. "But we could just be really annoying to Moody. Be teachers' pets. Keep going to see him, asking him stuff, knocking on his door at all hours. That way, if it is her, and she slips up, we'll know. Like if she forgets to take the potion."
"Spend more time around him— her— them?" Hermione frowns. "That's a bit risky. What if she just…decides to kill you? Or kidnap you?"
Harry shakes his head. Taps his forehead. "My dream. Voldemort mentioned the servant, and Hogwarts. They're definitely using the tournament. If she's really so loyal, she won't go against his orders, right?"
"Right," Ron says. "If it is her. Because the bloke looks terrifying, but he definitely looks like a bloke, not a witch. This is a different world. She could be someone else in disguise. Like McGonagall! She just about strangled you, Hermione, on our way in."
Hermione rolls her eyes. "She slipped on a puddle, Ronald. That hardly makes her a suspect."
"So far, Moody is the best bet," Harry says. "Right? So we should watch him. We can pretend we think he's…cool. It won't seem strange. You're already a bit of a teacher's pet, Hermione—"
"Hey! All I do is read the books they give us. It's not like I bring them apples, or—"
"Well maybe you should this year. Or do badly so you get detention and have to stay after class. One of us needs to be there at all times. Then she might not even have time to put my name in the Goblet!" he says excitedly.
"So…your plan is to babysit a Death Eater at all times until Halloween?" Ron says slowly.
Harry's smile drops. He runs a hand through his hair. "Uhh…yeah. Well I did say it wasn't the best plan. But…any other ideas?"
Ron shakes his head. Hermione looks back to the fire.
On Bellatrix watch. For two months.
Watching her twenty-four seven isn't very plausible— oh!
She scrambles to her feet. "Harry! The Map! Check the Marauders' Map! It will say her name!"
Harry jumps up, eyes wide. "Oh yeah! I completely forgot about— I'll go get it! It's in my trunk. Just— just stay here, I'll—"
He runs off, practically falling up the staircase.
Ron walks after him. "I'll go too. Here."
He reaches into his pocket and hands her his Viktor Krum figurine. "Come and knock on the door in a couple of minutes. You can say you found it. So Neville and that lot don't ask us what we're up to."
Oh. That is a good idea.
She takes it. Watches him climb the staircase, a confused frown on her face.
One change. How can one alteration have made such an impact? Ron was a sulky, selfish fifteen-year-old. Jealous, and with such a lack of confidence in himself.
Was this all he needed? A bit of trust? And someone to remind him how much people need him?
It had taken years for Ron to mature into this person last time.
But this time Ginny is upset and feeling left out instead.
Hermione sighs to herself. Seems like teenage drama is inescapable.
Will Harry have looked at the parchment yet?
She heads for the stairs—
Ron comes running down. "Oh, there it is, you found it. Seamus! It's alright, Hermione found it!" he shouts back up.
Hermione hurries over, giving him the miniature. "Well?" she whispers, unable to stand it any longer.
Ron nods frantically. "It's her," he breathes, looking around as if the walls have ears. "It said Bellatrix Black. She's in the castle. In Moody's rooms. It's her!"