One more chance

Chapter 2

The train ride back to Hogwarts is mainly uneventful. On the platform Hermione hugs her parents tightly. Her mother, who is always a bit emotional, wipes some lone tears from the corner of her eyes. Her father too wraps his arms around Hermione one more time. Saying goodbye is always hard. They already start to miss each other.

Hermione is happy that her family cares so deeply for one another, such a loving display is rather rare on the platform between all those stiff and cold pureblood families.

She feels the judging glances from the other wizards and witches around her and yet she doesn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

No, if anything, she raises her head even higher. She hears them whispering among themselves about how different they look and behave. Snide remarks about muggles that don't belong.

Of course she sometimes thinks about the what ifs. What if she had magical parents like Harry or Ron? Could she have started her magical education even sooner and not just after she received her Hogwarts letter? But then again she probably wouldn't have appreciated it the same way she does now.

To her, magic is a gift - not something to be taken for granted. And that is why she not only has such passion in her studies, but is also highly creative in her spellcasting, often producing outstanding results. Magic is a miracle, limited only by the imagination of the caster. Because she wasn't taught about its limits from a young age, like her friends, her magic appears to have no boundaries. It is as simple as that.

And that is why she will always be proud to be a muggleborn. She firmly believes that she wouldn't be as strong as if she was born as a halfblood or even a pureblood.

But still she is glad to reunite with Harry and Ron who are sent off in the same loving fashion as herself.
The three of them search for an empty compartment and sit down.

“Man have you seen the Lestranges?” Ron asks, already unpacking his lunch for the day. That boy seriously only knows how to eat, Hermione is sure of it. “No, why?” She says.

“That woman - eh Bellatrix Lestrange is it? If looks could kill, your parents would be dead, Harry.”
Hermione hits Ron on the shoulder. “Don't say stuff like that! It's insensitive!”

“Okay, okay stop hitting me, I only told you what I saw!” Ron rubs his shoulder and scoots away from Hermione while Harry ignores (once again) the little disputes between his two friends.

"Really?" I didn't realize. My parents never mentioned her. No idea why she would have a grudge against them.” Harry answers.

“Well you know, I overheard my dad once saying they all are a little…” Ron leans himself forward, lowering his voice. Both Harry and Hermione mirror his actions. “... Backwards. They hate muggles, muggleborns and blood traitors so much, I wouldn't put it past them if they have a secret torture cellar in their huge manor.”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Those are just rumors Ronald. You can't really believe they would hurt anyone and get away with it.”

“Well if you say so.” Ron leans back again and continues to eat. "But seriously that woman gives me the creeps, no matter how pretty she is.” Harry just chuckles but it sounds kinda forced.

His parents are well respected and have many admirers but also many who are envious of their success. He hopes his friend has misjudged but if even Ron notices something is off, then something is off, because… Ron is, well…dense.

He shoves the thought aside when the door to their compartment opens and Ginny and Neville join them. The remainder of the train ride is filled with more pleasant topics and a lot of laughter.

-

Atlas sits together with his cousin Draco and their friend Blaise Zabini - a fellow Slytherin in their year. They talk about their summer vacations and the Quidditch world cup.

Atlas can't say that he is a big Quidditch fan, although he plays fairly well. In second year he played seeker for Slytherin, but he soon found it rather tiring and distracting from his schoolwork.
He couldn't spend as much time in the library as he wanted to. (Of course this had nothing to do with a certain Griffindor who spent all her freetime there, no not at all.)

And besides, he couldn't suffer any more of Dracos whining - which he did all day for the entirety of the school year.

So he forfeited his position in favor of his cousin, who really wanted to play seeker and did so with passion for the past year.

Despite that, Draco never got over the fact that he wasn't chosen in the first place. This caused quite the rift between them, which took quite a while to be forgotten. But after all they were family and blood runs thicker than water.

They finally move on from the Quidditch topic and onto their next school year.
“Did your father tell you about this year's special guest?” Draco asks him. Atlas raises an eyebrow. Guests? Well isn't that interesting.

"No, he didn't. What are you talking about?”
Draco smiles mysteriously as he notices the interested looks of both his friends.
“He didn't? What a shame. And here I thought your father places quite the trust in you. Well there is nothing you can do~.”

Atlas has a hard time keeping out the irritation in his voice. That brat, latching onto his insecurities despite being friends proves once more that the Malfoy heir belongs rightfully in Slytherin.

He takes a breath to calm himself, wearing the mask of an indifferent pureblood wizard (which he is).
Well, two can play the game (So much for ‘blood runs thicker than water’).

“Probably because he was rather busy taking me around to most of his business talks. You know, since your father didn't seem to value our contract or any promises between the families all that much.” Draco's face reddens with each passing word Atlas talks, but still he isn't done yet.

“At least he told you about a bit of school gossip, good for you. Didn't want you to feel left out.”

Before Draco can jump onto his cousin's throat, Blaise intervenes, pressing him back into his seat. “Okay okay guys, damn Malfoy keep your cool, he was just joking.”

“Oh, was I now.” Atlas continues. Meanwhile Blaise's grip on his friends seems to tighten, barely holding him back.

“Just wait till my father-”
“Oh come on Malfoy don't you have anything better to say.”
“Both of you stop!” Blaise yells. Draco stops the struggle but shouts him a rather nasty look. Atlas looks rather unimpressed by the whole ordeal.

Why did Blaise even bother to stop his cousin? It's not like he couldn't take care of a Malfoy. Still it would be rather bothersome to start the school year with a fight. He really doesn't want a repeat of second year. A man needs to know when to pick a fight.
So he reaches out his hand to Draco, who eyes him suspiciously.

“Right, that was rather uncalled of me. I apologize for bringing it up in the first place.” It's a rather insincere apology, but it is the best Draco will get from him. Draco knows this too, so after a moment of hesitation he sighs and shakes his hand.

The compartment sinks into uncomfortable silence. “Well… will you tell us what guests will be coming to Hogwarts or not?” Blaise tries to get back to the subject. Draco throws a side glance at Atlas, but still answers them.

“Father told me, there will be a tournament held at our school.” Both boys perk up. “What kind of tournament?” Blaise asks now rather excitedly. Draco being pleased at getting both of their undivided attention once again, continues.

“It's a tournament between the European wizarding schools. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as well as us, Hogwarts.”
Blaise lets out a low whistle which makes his friend laugh.
“Yeah I know, pretty cool right? Each school selects a champion and they will compete against one another.”

“How exactly are the champions chosen?” asks Atlas. Draco just shrugs. "Don't know but I guess we will find out eventually.”

Atlas rolls his eyes. So his father didn't tell him all that much anyway. Why did he even bother in the first place?

“But you know who just started his last year at Durmstrang?” Draco smirks. Blaise shakes his head as well as Atlas.

After a short pause Draco answers his own question. “Viktor Krum.”
Both boys launch themselves into another discussion about Quidditch.

Great. Here we go again. Atlas rolls his eyes, takes out a book and starts to read.

-

The welcoming feast is once again spectacular. Atlas can't help but admire the sturdy tables who are able to hold all that food. Especially if said table is occupied by all those rowdy Griffiondors. That is the only reason he is looking over there time and time again. It's not his fault that the table is not as eye-catching as the brown frizzy hair of one certain classmate of his.

Thankfully headmaster Dumbledore stands up to give them a speech, which saves him from glancing over for the 16th time.
Regrettably he starts to tell them about the Triwizard tournament and since Draco already told him some of it, he loses focus and starts to stare at her again.

He begins to pay attention again, after there are several angry cries from the student body towards their esteemed headmaster.
“Yes I realize a lot of you would like the chance to participate. But those challenges far exceed what most of you would be capable of. And so the teachers agreed unanimously that only students of the seventh grade will be allowed to participate.”

More complaints could be heard throughout the great hall. Atlas wouldn't admit it, but it did bother him as well. This would have been a great chance to prove himself. Or it could have been.

“Our guests from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be arriving in a few weeks. This will be a great chance to forge new and lasting friendships as well as broadening one's own horizon. I advise you to make the most out of this experience even if you are not able to be picked as the Hogwarts champion yourself.” With that Dumbledore concludes his speech.

Soon all the students are released from dinner and return to their respective common rooms. Everybody is talking about the tournament. Guesses and bets are placed about who would be best suited as the selected Hogwarts champion.

And before long, classes begin once again. Marking the start of another school year.

-

Atlas Black found himself seated next to one Hermione Granger in Arithmancy. They both got paired up a year prior for a partner project and sat next to each other ever since.

They work great together, having the best marks in the entire class. Atlas already enjoyed the subject before (it is one of his favourites besides DADA and potions), but now he finds himself eagerly looking forward to it.

Granger's friends - Weasley and Potter don't take this class. Meaning he has her all to himself.

Right now they were given a task to solve a rather complicated equation. For most at least, but not for him… or Hermione.

He looks up from his calculations. She doesn't even realize he is staring at her, way too deeply immersed in her work. Softly twirling one of her many unruly curls between her fingers while her other hand, holding the feather, writes furiously onto her parchment. Ever the hardworking and dedicated student.

The little lion looks rather cute. A small smile spreads across his face and before he can stop himself, he tucks at one of her curls.

Her eyes snap up to meet his. Amusement against annoyance. His smile widens ever so slightly.

“What?” She asks irritated. “Don't tell me you already finished.” God she is so competitive. Atlas smile turns into a full blown grin.

“And what if I am?” He would never admit it, but he practiced a lot over the summer, only to get the top spot this year, no other hidden thoughts of course - like trying to impress.

“Really?! Let me see!” The little lion tries to snatch his paper, but he is faster, holding it just out of her reach.

“Nah ah, I won't let you copy my work. Gotta do it yourself.” She goes red in the face.
“I was not - I only wanted to see where you made a mistake.” She huffs. Atlas rolls his eyes. “What makes you think I made a mistake?”

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. He continues to smile while he starts to twirl her curl, that he tucked on before, between his fingers. She snatches it back. But regrettably returns to her work, without another clever comment, writing even more furiously than before.

Atlas looks at her dumbfounded. Did she just ignore him? But then she mutters. “Just wait a second until I'm finished. Then we can compare and see who got it right.”

God, if his friends could see him they would question whether or not he lost all his witts. He was smiling like a complete fool.

Luckily, neither Draco nor Blaise were in this class. Draco said he needed the extra time for his Quidditch practice and Blaise was just naturally lazy. Well, it suited him well in this particular case.

Before Hermione finished her calculation, he looked over his answers once more, just to be sure. He would never hear the end of it, if she found a mistake.

-

Time flows by and before long, it's already Halloween. Today the selection from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive. The excitement is evident in every student and teacher alike. Classes are cut short, because no one seems to be focused, even McGonagall has a hard time holding her lessons.

Hermione lets out a quiet sigh. She really hopes that after a few days everyone will calm down again. She doesn't want to waste anymore of her precious classes like this.

At least the library stays her on and only sanctum. Not one soul seems to wander their way in here. The corridors and common rooms are buzzing with anticipation. No one talks about anything else.

In the beginning, Hermione was excited herself. She listened to Fred and Georges wild guesses about what challenges might await the champions. And how they plan to evade the age restriction and manipulate the selection to participate themselves.

Ron and Harry enjoyed their mischief, cheering them on to come up with even more ridiculous and impossible ideas. She tried to be the voice of reason which fell on deaf ears and so she left to do something productive with her time.

It's not like she isn't interested in the tournament per se, but like Dumbledore said himself, it is not the only aspect of the Triwizard tournament.

They will meet students from different schools, with a completely different curriculum. Ahh-, the things they could learn from each other. The delegation from the French and Scandinavian would represent their school. Meaning they will be the top students among their classmates.

This is just an extremely rare - once in a lifetime- opportunity to form international friendships and cooperation, not just some silly competition for honor.

Once the evening arrives and every wizard and witch is seated at their table, their headmaster stands up to announce the arrival of this year's guests.

First ones to come in are the Beauxbatons. They wear silky blue gowns, which are way too light for this weather. It's the end of October and they are up in north scotland. ‘Oh well, nothing a good old warming charm can't fix’ - Hermione thinks.

They perform a sort of choreography going up to the front of the hall. They all exclude a certain confidence that inspires awe among the entire studenbody.
Ron looks mesmerized at a pretty blond french, almost drooling out of his open mouth. It irritates her. But looking around, a lot of the boys are openly staring at her, the same way Ron does.

Well most of them are at least. Atlas Black, her insufferable bench mate in Arithmancy, doesn't seem to have fallen under her spell. No he also looks around the great hall until their eyes meet. She quickly looks away, like she got caught doing something forbidden. Which she didn't.

Why is her face flushing? It's not like she likes the guy, tolerates him at best. After a moment she looks up again and he is still staring at her. God why is he still staring?!

Hermione vows to herself to ignore him instead she pointly stares at the arrival of the Durmstrang students who are marching through the door right this moment.

They too rehearsed a type of Performance but they are much more… intense. One of the guys even breathes fire.
Then she hears Ron gasps beside her. She looks in the same direction as him and sees a vaguely familiar - rather ordinary - looking man come in.

Before she gets the chance to ask, Ron says breathlessly - “That's Viktor Krum. The Viktor Krum!”

Hermione still needs a second before she can place the name, but then she too gasps. The man who almost got her killed at the Quidditch world cup?! That's why she thought she had seen him before! She didn't know he was still a student. He must be pretty good if he can play at the international championship.

Ron is not the only one who recognises Viktor. A lot of the other students start to whisper among themselves as he walks down the aisle. Some of them are even pointing at him.

Dumbledore has a hard time calming the student body down, but once everybody is seated (Viktor and the rest of the Durmstrang students sit down at the Slytherin table which Ron complains about rather loudly) the teachers bring forward a big and ugly cup which Dumbledore explains is the goblet of fire. An instrument which helps them determine who will be picked as champion from each school.

Seems like the tournament is about to begin.