The Great Hall
While her evasion of her classmates often kept her from it, Hogwarts’ great hall had always taken Hermione’s breath away. Growing up in the back streets of London, Hermione’s life had often been nothing but grey--grey skies, grey cobblestones, grey buildings, even grey food. Her state-issued orphanage uniform had also been grey. Yet, as they were often handed down and, in Hermione’s case, two sizes too big, many of the children found little bits of colorful cloth and rope to patch the holes and tighten the waists. Hermione had found her small, blue rope when wandering around Tower Bridge on one of her few class trips before she was whisked into the wizarding world. She hid that small blue rope away for fear that one of the other students would rip it from her hand and, when she returned to the orphanage that night, she wrapped it tightly around her waist, sewing it into the back, to cinch the extra fabric. Hermione still has that rope, or at least a piece of it. It is woven around the edge of her homemade wand holder. Nothing as extravagant as her pureblood peers flaunted, but hers and hers alone. She finds it ironic now, that she was so drawn to a blue rope, now that she is in Ravenclaw.
Stepping into the chatter filled great hall as the last stragglers rushed towards their seats, Hermione can almost picture her 9-year old self standing there. The hall looks nearly the same—candles floating around the ceiling and four tables stretching across its length, their surfaces polished and new despite the hundreds of students who had sat there before her. Hermione had been a hat stall, the longest hat stall in Hogwarts history. In the end though, it had been her quiet, kind demeanor and endless thirst for knowledge that had sent her towards Ravenclaw. Oddly enough she couldn’t hear the hat like everyone else, or at least, she can’t remember hearing the hat say anything to her. But that could very well be chalked up to the Bludger that knocked her out for three days one week into her first year.
Shaking her head to rid herself of the memories, Hermione took stock of the hall now. Two of the tables extended to accommodate their newly arrived guests. Professor Black left her with a gentle pat on the back, effortlessly gliding through the still bustling students towards the Professor’s table. Once seated, she gave Hermione a quick wink before being sucked into a conversation with Professor Snape.
Professor Black was one of the only people at Hogwarts that Hermione truly didn’t mind. She had always gone out of her way to be kind to her, to get to know her. Every time Hermione found herself in a hospital bed, Professor Black was there to engage her in warm conversation or to offer her a sweat or potion for her pain. When she hid in the back of the library and missed curfew, Professor Black was the one to find her most often (or at least most preferably, one time Snape had found her and she was left with a week’s worth of detention). Professor Black even opened her office up to Hermione, always ready with some pumpkin juice and, when she was older, even a butterbeer. Hermione wasn’t sure why the Professor had taken a liking to her—she scared nearly every other student and didn’t take anyone’s back talk—but she was grateful she had. While never truly a mother, Professor Black was as close to a guardian as she had ever had.
Returning back to the great hall, Hermione quickly made her way to her seat—the end of the Ravenclaw table, closest to the doors for an easy escape. She slouched down and diverted her eyes as her peers inevitably found her before they remembered to simply ignore her. Suffice to say, there was always an open seat next to Hermione. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, pretentious Gryffindors, would often try to bother her but, as they were two years behind her and she rarely showed any interest, they eventually backed off (not that she minded, those two always seemed to be getting into trouble—they even found themselves face to face with a troll their first year). The only person whose company she could tolerate, on occasion, was Draco Malfoy. To the entire school’s (and most of the faculty’s) surprise, he had no problem with her at all. Honestly, he was one of the only people in the school who didn’t just ignore her or stare her down. His eyes were always kind, friendly even. She doesn’t understand his feud with Potter, Weasley and the muggleborn (more had arrived at Hogwarts in the years following her start), but honestly, as long as he leaves her out of it, she doesn’t particularly care. Tonight, Draco is across the hall with the Slytherins.
She was snapped out of her thoughts as the constant chatter in the hall stilled and Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his seat.
“Tonight,” he bellowed, “is a very special night for Hogwarts. For the first time in a generation, we will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.”
The hall erupted in shouts and exclamations of surprise.
“QUIET,” Dumbledore shouted and the shouts toned down to whispers. “That’s better. The Triwizard Tournament is a huge milestone in the wizarding world and we are fortunate enough to be the hosts of our fellow wizarding schools. As such, I would like you all to be on your best behavior this year as we welcome Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, officially, to Hogwarts.”
With that, the doors flew open and men and women in light brown robes emerged, slamming their magical staffs against the floor. They walked forward, before breaking out in flips—the cheer from the Hogwarts student body was deafening and Hermione just cowered further into the wall behind her. At least the attention wasn’t on her for once. Last to enter, to the utter awe of many (including Ron Weasley who nearly launched from his seat at the new arrival) was Viktor Krum and his high master. They made their way quickly to the front where Dumbledore enthusiastically greeted them. From there, the Durmstrang delegation was directed to the end of the Slytherin table where they took their seats, their posture painfully straight.
The quiet only lasted a moment, however, as the doors opened once again to welcome the Beauxbatons delegation. Hermione felt them before they even stepped inside. At least 10 new magics wrapping around her, more pronounced than they had been earlier. It felt as if they were poking at her, if she had to put a word to it, it felt almost playful. Except for two of them. Two of the strange magic forces snuck beneath the others and molded themselves to her body in a vice grip. It wasn’t painful, but it was much more pronounced then the feeling she had experienced at the top of the owlery.
Warmth, concern, comfort, elation, heartache, and, most of all love—wrapped so tightly around her that she feared she would get high from the emotion.
Hermione didn’t know what to make of it. The only thing she had felt even remotely similar was the warmth that emanated off of Professor Black but, even then, that was so subtle Hermione would credit it to the woman’s persona more than anything else. But this, this was so distinct that Hermione, the girl who was seen and wished not to be, felt comfort from something other than her books or her favorite professor for the first time in her life. Tears welled up in her eyes at the unfamiliar emotion, blurring her vision as the delegation entered the hall.
They were all beautiful, the men and women alike. In their powder blue uniforms they strode down the hall. Initially their magic was beautiful and dainty, blue butterflies and birds emerging from their hands. But, as they progressed forward, it quickly turned into something else entirely. Wordless magic circled around them, bringing flowers and fireworks to life across the great hall. They spun and twirled but also showcased sword work and produced beautiful Patronuses that danced across the hall. Many of them drifted towards her, pawing at her legs and gently pulling her hair before moving on. Two of them, however, made a straight line towards her and would not leave her side—a gorgeous bird that Hermione could not name and a magnificent cat that shrunk down and curled up on her lap as it approached. Frozen in her seat, Hermione did not know what to do.
The delegation continued forward, the last two through the door, were the two Hermione had seen earlier, their heads locked forward as they led their Head Mistress towards Dumbledore. Interestingly enough, their eyes were both a beautiful shade of blue. Strange. Hermione was sure they had been gold earlier. As the Head Mistress greeted Dumbledore and the delegation ended their show, Hermione was almost sad to lose the company of the two friendly Patronuses. The Beauxbatons delegation quickly made their way to the end of the Ravenclaw table, closest to the Professors’ table and, as such, furthest from Hermione.
The room was brought back to attention as Dumbledore’s voice echoed across the hall.
“Welcome, yes welcome, to our lovely peers from across Europe. I hope your journey was smooth. As you all are now aware, we are gathered here for the Triwizard Tournament. In order to alleviate some of the risks of past tournaments, I have a representative from the ministry of magic here to share some of the new rules with you.”
Indicating towards one of two men who had emerged from the shadow, Dumbledore stepped to the side to allow the man to speak.
“Yes…well. How lovely it is to be here with all of you at last. As with every tournament, one champion will be selected from each school to participate in the tournament. If you are selected, you must participate, the contract is binding. To submit your name for entry, you need only write your name on a piece of parchment and drop it in the cup. However, in order to ensure that this is as safe is it can be, only students who are at least 17 years old will be allowed to enter their name.”
With this, a chorus of groans rose through the hall, the most pronounced coming from the older Weasley twins—Fred and George.
“SILENCE,” Dumbledore shouted, “These are the rules and as such they must be followed. The cup will be open for you to submit your names after the feast and will remain open until the end of the week when we shall draw the names of the champions.”
Speaking over the groaning Dumbledore continued, “Now, let the feast begin!”
With a wave of his hands, lavish food appeared on the long tables, Hogwarts students greedily reaching in while the new arrivals took a much more mannered approach. The great hall quickly filled with chatter of the tournament and the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Hermione quickly sensed eyes upon her. Looking up, she was startled to realize that all of the Hogwarts students, who were normally sneering at her, had lustful, awe-filled, and annoyed gazes fixed upon the women from the Beauxbatons delegation. Surprise was the first thing she felt, followed quickly by relief. But, if it wasn’t the Hogwarts students, who was looking at her? Gazing around the room, Hermione found her answer as she locked gazes with a burning gold one. She knew the other girl and, likely, some of their friends were looking at her as well, but she couldn’t seem to tare her gaze away from the eyes she had locked onto. As she saw the girl, and from her periphery, the second girl move to stand up and move towards her, Hermione quickly broke the eye contact and did the first thing she could think of.
She ran.