Chapter 10
The early morning light filtered through the Gryffindor dormitory, illuminating the soft reds and golds of the thick curtains. Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed, gently stroking Crookshanks as he purred in her lap. Across the room, Parvati was pulling her uniform from her trunk while Lavender twirled a strand of hair around her wand, adding soft curls to her already voluminous locks.
"Honestly, Hermione, I still can't believe you have a cat now," Lavender said as she admired Crookshanks. "He’s adorable! Where did you find him?"
Hermione hesitated for only a fraction of a second before answering smoothly. "He was a gift."
That much was true. She knew better than to say who had given him to her—or when. The months she had spent in hiding weren’t something she could explain, nor was she allowed to.
Parvati flopped onto her bed, pulling on a sock. "He looks so proper, though. Almost like he belongs in some fancy manor, sitting in front of a fireplace."
Hermione gave a small, tight-lipped smile. "Maybe he does."
Lavender clapped her hands together. "Oh! We should have a little tea party and make Crookshanks the guest of honor! He can sit right in the middle with a tiny plate of treats."
Parvati giggled. "With pink teacups and lace napkins?"
Hermione laughed softly, relaxing a little. "That sounds fun."
Parvati stretched with a yawn. "We should head down to breakfast before all the good stuff is gone. And before the entire school crowds around the Goblet."
The mention of the Goblet of Fire sent a ripple of unease through Hermione, but she quickly masked it. No one knows. No one suspects anything. You're just a normal student returning for your fifth year.
"Let’s go," she said, giving Crookshanks a final pat before grabbing her bag.
The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. The Goblet of Fire stood proudly in the center, its blue-white flames flickering hypnotically. Older students were already stepping forward, tossing in their names with varying degrees of confidence.
As Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati took their seats at the Gryffindor table, they caught snippets of conversation from all around them.
"I heard Krum put his name in first thing last night," Dean Thomas said, gesturing with his toast.
"Of course he did," Seamus Finnigan scoffed. "Durmstrang practically breeds champions, don’t they?"
Hermione kept her expression neutral.
Across the hall, groups of students continued approaching the Goblet, their faces set with determination. Each slip of parchment disappeared into the flames, swallowed without a trace. The air crackled with anticipation.
"Are you even curious who’ll be chosen?" Lavender asked, nudging Hermione playfully.
"Of course," Hermione said, carefully keeping her voice light. "It’s just—well, I’m not exactly participating, am I?"
"Neither are we," Parvati said with a dramatic sigh. "But that doesn’t mean we can’t speculate!"
Lavender leaned in conspiratorially. "I bet Cedric Diggory is putting his name in. He’s the type, isn’t he?"
Parvati nodded eagerly. "And someone from Slytherin, too. Maybe Pucey or Montague?"
Hermione let them chatter, only half-listening. She had an uncomfortable feeling sitting in her chest, something she couldn’t quite shake.
Then the troublemakers made their move.
Seamus and Dean strode confidently toward the Goblet, each of them pulling a small vial from their pockets.
"You think this’ll work?" Dean muttered under his breath.
"Only one way to find out," Seamus replied with a grin.
They downed the contents in unison. Gasps echoed across the hall.
"Aging Potion!" someone whispered excitedly.
Seamus and Dean stepped forward, crossing the Age Line—
Only to be violently thrown back.
They crashed onto the stone floor with a loud thud, limbs tangled, faces scrunched in pain. The hall erupted into laughter.
"I told you it wouldn’t work," Ron said, grinning down at them.
Dean groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "I really thought that would work."
Seamus sighed dramatically. "I regret nothing."
Professor McGonagall stormed over, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Mr. Finnigan, Mr. Thomas—detention. And ten points from Gryffindor each."
The two boys groaned as they struggled to their feet.
Lavender giggled, whispering to Parvati, "Honestly, they never learn."
Hermione shook her head but smiled faintly. Her eyes flickered back to the Goblet of Fire, its flames dancing in an unsettling rhythm.
The tournament was beginning.
And something told her this year was going to change everything.
-
The Great Hall was alive with energy, the Goblet of Fire crackling at the center of it all like a living entity, drawing in hopefuls and ambitious fools alike. Students milled around in clusters, whispering, speculating, and daring each other to try. The older years from each school seemed more confident, but there was still a tension in the air—uncertainty mixed with excitement.
Draco strode toward the Goblet, his expression impassive, yet his grip on his name slip was tight. Theo walked beside him, his frustration barely concealed, while Blaise and Pansy trailed behind, each absorbed in their own thoughts.
“I still can’t believe Karkaroff is making us do this,” Theo muttered under his breath. “I mean, he can’t possibly expect us to—”
“Win?” Draco finished dryly. “No. But he expects us to uphold Durmstrang’s name and not embarrass him.”
“Lovely. So we’re just sacrifices to make him look good,” Blaise said, flicking a glance at the Goblet. “Fantastic.”
Pansy remained uncharacteristically quiet. She had been fuming earlier, cursing Karkaroff under her breath, but now, standing in front of the Goblet, her fingers twitched slightly at her side. She was just as unwilling as the rest of them, but backing down wasn’t an option.
Around them, students from all three schools hovered, waiting for their turn. The Beauxbatons students, graceful and poised, murmured amongst themselves, while the Durmstrang hopefuls carried an air of silent determination. A group of Hogwarts seventh-years—Diggory among them—stood to the side, watching with interest.
Theo exhaled sharply. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
Draco smirked, more out of defiance than amusement. “Don’t sound too eager, Nott.”
Theo shot him a glare, but before he could retort, Blaise stepped forward first. He flicked his slip into the Goblet with a resigned sort of ease, the flames swallowing it instantly. Pansy was next, her expression tense but composed as she did the same.
Theo hesitated, but after a moment, with a roll of his eyes, he tossed his in as well.
Draco took one last look at the enchanted fire. It was strange, he thought, how a single piece of parchment could hold so much weight. With a flick of his wrist, he let his name fall. The flames flashed blue for a moment before returning to normal, sealing his fate.
As they turned away, Theo let out a humorless laugh. “We’re going to regret this, aren’t we?”
Draco didn’t answer. He already knew the truth.
The four of them barely spoke as they walked away from the Great Hall, away from the looming glow of the Goblet of Fire. It was done. Their names were in. There was no taking it back now.
The castle corridors were mostly empty, the flickering torches casting long shadows along the stone walls. Theo was muttering under his breath about the absurdity of it all, and Blaise looked resigned, hands in his pockets. Draco kept his expression unreadable, jaw tight as he led the way toward their dormitory.
But Pansy… she was shaking.
The moment they reached the secluded common room Durmstrang had been assigned, she turned on them, arms crossed tightly over her chest as if trying to physically hold herself together.
“This was the dumbest thing we’ve ever done.” Her voice wavered, but she pushed through. “No—this was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. What was I thinking?”
The boys exchanged glances. Blaise sighed and sat down on the arm of a chair, while Theo ran a hand through his hair.
Draco frowned. “Pansy—”
“No, don’t Pansy me,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “We knew we were walking a thin line, but we kept pushing. I kept pushing. And now Karkaroff has this—this—hanging over us.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her carefully maintained composure unraveling.
Theo, for once, wasn’t his usual sharp-edged self. “We didn’t exactly have a choice, Pans,” he pointed out, voice quiet. “He was going to find a way to punish us no matter what.”
“That doesn’t mean we had to make it easy for him!” Pansy shot back, voice rising. “We’ve spent years following Draco into trouble, acting like we’re untouchable, but we’re not. This—this stupid tournament—people die in it. And we just handed him our names like it was some game.”
A tense silence stretched between them. Blaise exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the chair.
“We did get caught up in it,” he admitted, watching the ceiling as if it held the answers. “Like a bunch of idiots.”
Draco leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His voice was calm but firm. “We’re not going to die, Pansy.”
She scoffed. “Oh, well, if you say so.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “I mean it. None of us wanted this, but we’re not going to just sit around and let it ruin us either.”
Theo huffed a quiet laugh. “And what exactly do you suggest we do? Bribe the Goblet?”
Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to the bait.
Pansy inhaled shakily, sitting down beside Blaise and pulling her knees up. “It’s not just the tournament,” she admitted after a moment, voice softer now. “It’s the fact that we owe Karkaroff now. We’re in his pocket. That’s what scares me the most.”
Draco didn’t have an immediate response to that.
Because she was right.
-
The Great Hall buzzed with excited conversation the next morning, the usual breakfast chatter now laced with speculation about the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione sat with Lavender and Parvati at the Gryffindor table, absently stirring her tea as she listened to the voices around them.
It was hard to ignore. The Goblet of Fire had burned all night, and rumors about who had entered were spreading like wildfire.
“Did you hear?” A Ravenclaw girl at the next table was speaking in hushed tones. “Apparently, all the Durmstrang students had to put their names in.”
“No way,” her friend replied, leaning in. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s what someone from Beauxbatons said! Karkaroff forced them—can you imagine?”
Hermione stilled, her spoon clinking softly against the porcelain of her cup.
Forced?
Lavender, who had been flipping through a copy of Witch Weekly, caught the change in Hermione’s expression. “You okay?” she asked, setting the magazine down.
Hermione hesitated. “I just… didn’t expect that.”
Parvati hummed in agreement, resting her chin on her palm. “It’s awful if it’s true. No wonder they all look so grim.”
They all instinctively glanced toward the Durmstrang table. The foreign students sat together, speaking in low voices. Unlike the Beauxbatons students, who had settled into Hogwarts with relative ease, the Durmstrang group remained apart, their presence carrying an air of tension.
And then there was Draco Malfoy.
He wasn’t brooding like some of his peers, nor was he putting on any sort of bravado. He sat with Theo, Blaise, and Pansy, an unreadable expression on his face as he cut into his toast. Even from across the hall, Hermione could see the careful way he held himself, his usual arrogance tempered into something quieter.
If they were forced to enter…
A chill ran through her, but she pushed it aside. It wasn’t her problem. She had spent a year learning how to guard her thoughts, how to detach from things that weren’t hers to meddle in. This was no different.
Parvati suddenly brightened. “Oh! That reminds me—Divination today. Lavender, did you bring the dream journal?”
Lavender gasped. “I almost forgot! Trelawney is going to love this.” She pulled a small leather-bound notebook from her bag, flipping to a marked page. “I wrote down that one dream about the floating candles, and—oh! I think I even had one about a dragon.”
Hermione bit her tongue, resisting the urge to correct them about Trelawney’s nonsense.
Instead, she reached for her tea again, letting the warmth soothe her.
But even as she refocused on her friends, the whispers about Durmstrang lingered in her mind.