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Harry Potter: Forging the Flame Ch. 27
🕑 Added 2025-05-04 19:03:41 +0000 UTCA little bit late with this chapter, sorry.
Chapter 27.
The corridor outside the Defense classroom was already crowded when Harry arrived. He spotted Daphne near the middle of the group, looking half-bored and half-alert. Everyone was waiting. Moody stood by the door like a gargoyle with a pulse, arms folded, magical eye spinning slow as he watched them gather.
“Classroom’s been altered for today,” he said without preamble. “You’ll be going in groups of four. I’ll read the names. When you hear yours, you enter. The moment you step through that door, the lesson begins.”
Harry edged through the crowd until he reached Ron and Hermione, who stood just behind a knot of Slytherins. Ron gave him a sideways look and muttered, “Oh no, it’s one of those lessons.” He glanced toward Moody. “You know, where he thinks it’s a good idea to throw us into some kind of magical death trap.” Hermione frowned but didn’t argue.
Moody raised his parchment without another word. “Nott, Finnigan, Parkinson, Thomas. Go.”
Pansy scoffed, tossing her hair as she started forward. “Great. Two useless Gryffindors to drag us down.”
Moody didn’t even look up. “Try not to trip over your ego on the way in”
Pansy snapped her mouth shut. Seamus gave her a smug look but said nothing. The four students stepped toward the door, which creaked open slowly at Moody’s signal. A gust of charged air hit them. It felt like walking past a storm cloud right before it cracked.
Pansy hesitated a second, eyes narrowing, but Nott pushed forward without waiting. The rest followed. The door closed behind them with a heavy thud.
Two minutes later, the door opened again. All four stumbled out, panting like they’d just run a mile uphill. Seamus had a shallow cut across one cheek, Dean’s robes were torn at the sleeve, and Nott looked like he’d taken a hex straight to the chest. Pansy’s hair was a mess, her expression somewhere between furious and shaken.
Moody gave them a quick once-over. “Nott, Parkinson. Hospital Wing. The rest of you, catch your breath and stay out of the way.”
Ron leaned sideways and whispered, “What was it? What happened in there?”
Seamus just shook his head, still catching his breath. “Don’t ask,” he muttered. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Before Ron could push, Moody called out again, parchment still in hand. “Greengrass. Potter. Malfoy. Granger. Go.”
Harry caught Hermione’s eye, then glanced at Daphne, who was already stepping forward with that same bored grace she always carried.
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
“Mudblood and Potter? Really?”
“Shut up Malfoy!” yelled Ron.
The moment the door shut behind them, the stone floor vanished under Harry’s feet. He staggered forward onto dirt, his shoes crunching over charred gravel. Heat pressed against his skin. Smoke clung to the air and the sky above was smeared with streaks of dark grey and orange. Around them stood what was left of a village, if you could still call it that. Burned-out cottages leaned on splintered beams, roofs torn open almost like something had punched through them. Harry turned, wand raised, and caught movement behind a collapsed chimney, but it was just wind knocking loose a shutter. He looked up.
Hovering across the sky in glowing red letters, words burned themselves into view:
Defend the cellar. Reinforce the wards. Survive ten minutes.
Malfoy kicked a chunk of broken stone aside. “This is completely insane. He can’t just drop us in some bloody battlefield without warning. My father is on the Hogwarts Board. This is not how education is supposed to work. There are rules. There are standards.” He kept going, voice rising as he threw a look at Daphne, like she might care. “I mean, really. A burned-down village? What are we even supposed to be doing here?”
Harry ignored him.
He raised his wand and said,
“Homenum Revelio.”
Nothing happened. Just broken wood and smoke dragging across the ground. Harry took another breath and whispered,
“Point Me.”
The wand twitched in his palm, spun once, and pointed north. Good. He adjusted his stance, orienting himself. If north was behind them, then whatever he’d spotted earlier, the sunken bit of earth beneath the wreckage, the faintest pulse of light bleeding through cracked stone, that was east.
He lowered his wand and turned slightly toward the others. “There’s something under that wreckage on the east side,” he said. “Light’s coming from below. Might be the cellar we’re meant to defend.”
Hermione stepped closer to Harry, already scanning the ruins with narrowed eyes. “If that’s the target, we should reinforce the perimeter first. The instructions said reinforce the wards. We don’t know what’s coming or how long we’ve got.”
Daphne turned her head slowly, eyes landing on Malfoy. “Unless you plan to scream your way through the entire exercise, maybe try doing something useful for once. You’re not completely useless, are you?” Malfoy’s mouth opened, but she’d already looked away. “I want to pass this test. Moody’s watching every move we make.” She stepped toward the broken path that led east, her wand already in hand. “Anyone know how to reinforce wards? Because if not, we’re wasting time.”
Malfoy scoffed and stepped forward, his voice sharper now. “Right, because obviously I should be taking orders from you. Look who we’ve got in here, Greengrass. A mudblood and Saint Potter the Sleepwalker.” He gave Hermione a smug glance and tossed Harry a sideways sneer. “If this little dream team is supposed to save the day, we’re all doomed.”
After the bickering died down, they headed east toward the collapsed building. None of them said much. By now, they were used to Moody’s ideas skirting the edge of insanity, and this one wasn’t even the weirdest. Still, there was something off about it. When they got close to the cellar, a loud growl drifted through the air. And definitely not friendly.
Daphne gave Harry a quick look. He caught Hermione’s eye too, and she was already raising her wand. Harry didn’t bother saying anything. He just stepped forward, climbed over a slab of broken stone, and started down what was left of the stairs.
The cellar was bigger than it looked from outside. They stepped into a circular space cut into solid stone. At the edges of the room stood four thick columns, each one rough and cracked, with faint patterns etched into the surface, symbols that shimmered when the light hit them right. At the center sat some kind of pedestal with metal wiring coiled around its base, copper and blackened silver threading up into a shape Harry couldn’t quite place. It almost looked like a turret, like something meant to move. But it wasn’t moving now.
Hermione stepped forward without hesitation, already studying the nearest column like it was a particularly stubborn bit of homework. “These aren’t standard wards,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. Her fingers hovered close to the etched stone, careful not to touch. “But the structure’s consistent. Runes are old, layered. Looks like… early protective glyphs. Meant to channel rather than block.”
Daphne moved to the opposite side of the room, crouched low near another pillar. “Copper threading. Old-school anchor work,” she said. Her voice was calm, but Harry didn’t miss the sharp focus in her eyes. “This isn’t just a cellar. It’s a warding station. Whoever built this knew what they were doing.”
Harry and Malfoy stayed back, watching. Harry didn’t have anything useful to add yet, and Malfoy clearly wasn’t going to risk saying something that might sound like agreement. For now, it was the girls who led, reading the room like it was a language only they could speak.
Malfoy shifted behind them, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “So we’re letting Granger and Greengrass play engineers while we stand around and hope nothing eats us?”
Harry turned. “Do you ever stop talking?”
Malfoy smirked. “Just wondering if you plan to actually do something, Potter, or if we’re all meant to die waiting on your next noble speech.”
Harry stepped toward him, wand still in hand.
“You want to be useful, Malfoy? Great. Go stand watch at the stairs and let the smart people work.”
Malfoy opened his mouth, probably to toss something back, but something in Harry’s eyes made him think twice. He scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and stalked toward the base of the steps.
Harry turned back to the girls. “You think if we hit those columns with magic, it’ll activate the wards?”
“Maybe,” Daphne said. “Wards this old usually need to be fed magic to respond. The question is whether we have to match the right spells to the right runes or just give it power.”
Hermione nodded, already scanning the room again. “We should test it. Small spell. Controlled.”
Harry pointed to the nearest pillar. “I’ll try first. Just in case it blows up.”
He raised his wand and cast a simple tickling charm. The symbols on the stone lit up for a split second, then faded.
“Something happened,” Daphne said. “Try again. This time stronger.”
Harry glanced at the stairs. Malfoy was there, yawning.
He turned back and raised his wand again.
“Alright. Let’s wake it up.”
Harry gritted his teeth, stepped back, and pulled up a spell he’d read three nights ago in Furious Forms and Duelcraft. It wasn’t flashy, but it packed a punch and crackled like live wire.
“Fulmino!”
A surge of blue-white lightning shot from his wand and slammed into the pillar with a loud snap. The runes blazed to life, flooding the stone with light that ran in jagged veins across its surface. The ground gave a short rumble, and from above, the red letters shifted.
Timer initiated. Remaining time: 10:00
Hermione’s head jerked up. “That’s it. We’re on the clock.”
A growl rolled down the stairwell, followed by heavy, dragging footsteps. Not fast, but close. Too close.
Malfoy peered over the edge, then stepped back fast. “They’re already here!”
Harry spun and hit the pillar again, same spell. The light shot out from the runes and arched toward the stairwell. A wall of crackling energy snapped into place, just in time for something massive to slam into it from the other side. The impact rattled the floor, but the barrier held.
Malfoy stared, blinking. “Okay. That one works.”
Daphne didn’t wait. She darted to the next column and fired a slicing hex. The runes flared red, and outside, something roared. The ground shuddered again—maybe a detonation, maybe something worse.
Harry gritted his teeth, stepped back, and pulled up a spell he’d read three nights ago in Furious Forms and Duelcraft. It wasn’t flashy, but it packed a punch and crackled like live wire.
“Fulmino!”
A surge of blue-white lightning shot from his wand and slammed into the pillar with a loud snap. The runes blazed to life, flooding the stone with light that ran in jagged veins across its surface. The ground gave a short rumble, and from above, the red letters shifted.
Timer initiated. Remaining time: 10:00
Hermione’s head jerked up. “That’s it. We’re on the clock.”
A growl rolled down the stairwell, followed by heavy, dragging footsteps. Not fast, but close. Too close.
Malfoy peered over the edge, then stepped back fast. “They’re already here!”
Harry spun and hit the pillar again, same spell. The light shot out from the runes and arched toward the stairwell. A wall of crackling energy snapped into place, just in time for something massive to slam into it from the other side. The impact rattled the floor, but the barrier held.
Malfoy stared, blinking. “Okay. That one works.”
Daphne didn’t wait. She darted to the next column and fired a slicing hex. The runes flared red, and outside, something roared. The ground shuddered again.
Malfoy turned back from the stairs, eyes wide. “That one didn’t make a shield. It hit them. I think it’s offensive.”
Hermione nodded, already moving to the pillar. “Then each column has a different function. We need to activate all of them.”
Malfoy hesitated, then raised his wand and aimed at the third column. “Expulso!”
The runes glowed orange, and a wave of heat pulsed through the room. From above, a screech echoed, followed by the sound of something heavy collapsing.
Hermione stepped up to the final column, her expression focused. “Let’s see what this one does.” She cast a spell, and the runes shimmered with a soft green light. A calming energy spread through the room, and the tension in their muscles eased slightly.
Harry glanced around. “Alright, all columns are active. Let’s hold this place for ten minutes.”
By the fourth minute, the rhythm started to crack.
Hermione’s pillar still lit up when she cast on it, still gave off that steady hum that seemed to keep their nerves level, their minds clear. But Harry started to notice something off. The calm didn’t last. It stretched too thin, like a spell straining under its own weight. After her last cast, instead of clarity, Harry felt… On edge. Beside him, Malfoy was pacing again, lips moving like he was muttering something, jaw clenched tight.
Daphne hadn’t said a word in the last minute, just kept hitting her pillar with steady spells, eyes locked on the edge of the barrier as another shape charged up the stairs.
Hermione recharged her column again. The symbols pulsed with a cooler light this time more silver than green.
A split second later, the barrier at the top of the stairs crackled and dropped.
“Harry!” Daphne yelled.
He spun just in time to see one of the creatures burst through the open arch. This one wasn’t like the others. It was leaner, faster, twisted like a jackal with too-long limbs and glowing red eyes. It lunged straight past Malfoy and Hermione, heading for the far corner where Daphne stood, wand up, but too slow to block.
Harry didn’t think. He moved.
A jolt surged through him like everything narrowed down to a single point. He launched forward, slamming into the space between the creature and Daphne and drove his wand forward like a sword.
“Fulmino!”
The blast tore through the monster’s chest with a crack of lightning and scorched air. It hit the stone wall behind it and collapsed in a smoking heap. Harry stood over it, chest heaving, hand still raised, light still sparking at the tip of his wand.
Daphne stared up at him, stunned, her back nearly pressed against the column.
“Thanks,” she said, barely audible.
Harry stood over it for half a second, heart pounding, the coppery taste of adrenaline in his mouth. Then he turned and sprinted back to his column, wand already rising. The barrier was down. If they didn’t hold it now, they were done.
“Reducto!”
The spell burst struck the stone dead center. The runes lit up like before, jagged lines racing across the surface and back into the walls. Up above, the barrier snapped back into place with a hard pulse of blue light.
Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He turned on his heel and jogged back into formation, taking up his spot near the center of the room, wand ready again.
“Let’s keep them out this time,” he said.
Another monster forced its way through the stairwell, claws raking stone. Daphne whipped her wand out and fired a hex that knocked it sideways into the wall. Malfoy followed it up with a Blasting Curse that shattered part of the steps and sent gravel raining down.
“Behind you!” Daphne shouted.
Malfoy spun and hit a second creature with a spell Harry didn’t recognize. It shrieked, smoke rising from its back, but didn’t stop.
“They’re getting through too fast!” Daphne yelled, sweat streaking her face.
“We can’t hold them!” Malfoy’s voice cracked as he flung another curse, eyes wide. “Potter, do something!”
Harry ducked under a flying shard of stone and spun to Hermione, who was already raising her wand again.
“Don’t..” he started, but it was too late.
Her spell struck her pillar.
The familiar wave of energy pulsed outward, but something was off. It rolled through the room like hot syrup. Harry’s stomach turned. His hands clenched without meaning to. A rage twisted in his chest before he forced it down.
Daphne staggered and grabbed the wall. “What was that?”
Malfoy cursed under his breath and shoved his sleeve up to wipe sweat from his eyes. “Granger, what the hell are you doing?”
Hermione’s wand wavered in her grip. “I don’t know. It worked before.”
“Well, it’s not working now!” Daphne shouted. She threw another curse up the stairwell. A monster screeched, fell back, and another took its place.
Harry grabbed Hermione’s shoulder and pulled her back from the pillar. “That thing’s messing with us now. You feel it too, yeah?”
She hesitated, breathing hard. “Yes.”
“Then forget it,” Harry said. “We’ve got one trick left.”
He pointed to the turret in the center. The coils of silver and copper were glowing faintly, twitching like they were waiting.
“Hit the turret. Do it now.”
Hermione didn’t argue this time. She aimed and fired.
The second her spell struck, the turret jerked upright with a sharp metallic snap. Magic burst out in a loud crack and shot up the stairs like a bolt of chain lightning, slamming into something just beyond sight. A high-pitched scream followed.
Harry turned back to the others. “Hold your ground!”
Daphne was already firing again. “Wasn’t planning to die yet.”
“Time left?” Malfoy shouted between curses.
“Less than two minutes!” Harry shouted back. “Just keep them off the stairs.”
The turret pulsed again, releasing another burst of crackling energy that lit up the stairwell like a storm trapped in glass. The next creature didn’t even make it halfway down before the surge struck it mid-lunge. It crumpled in a heap and rolled back, limbs twitching.
Malfoy glanced sideways at Harry. “Whatever that thing is, I’m starting to like it.”
Harry didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the red letters hovering just overhead.
00:56
A low snarl rose behind the barrier. Daphne, crouched near the third pillar now, kept casting, her movements slower. Malfoy joined her without needing to be told. They worked in rhythm. Fire and force. Slash and scatter. They didn’t speak. No sniping, no bragging, no barking orders. Just spells. Just survival.
Hermione stepped beside Harry again, quieter now. “I don’t know what happened with that pillar,” she said “I didn’t mean to..”
“I know,” Harry cut in. “We’ll figure it out later.”
The air around them seemed to tighten with every second. The final push was coming.
The turret charged again. It sparked and whined like it was under pressure, like the magic inside it had more fight left than they did. Harry raised his wand and poured another bolt into his pillar. The barrier at the stairs snapped tighter, more solid this time. A solid hum filled the air, almost like a note held in perfect pitch.
Daphne fired another Blasting Curse, sweat sliding down her temple. Malfoy hit one of the monsters square in the face and sent it toppling back with a grunt of satisfaction.
Harry looked up again.
00:12
00:07
00:03
The turret fired one last time. The entire room shuddered.
The red letters blinked once. Then vanished.
No more growling. No more pounding. Just the sound of their breathing, loud in the sudden stillness.
They stayed frozen for a second, as if waiting for something else to explode.
Nothing did.
Daphne lowered her wand first, but didn’t straighten all the way. Malfoy leaned on one knee, gasping.
Hermione turned to Harry, her mouth half open, then closed it again.
The floor beneath them gave a soft pulse. The glow from the pillars faded. The turret let out a mechanical sigh and sagged back into its original position, wires cooling, metal unwinding.
A soft chime rang out overhead.
Simulation complete. Time expired.
And just like that, the world shifted. The stone walls of the cellar unraveled like sand on wind. The air bent and twisted, folding them back into the real world. They landed on solid ground in the Defense classroom.
Hermione let out a quiet, stunned laugh and shook her head. “That was absolutely mental.” Malfoy didn’t even bother with a comeback. Daphne rubbed at her neck and looked toward the door like she wasn’t sure it was real. Harry didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he turned to the door. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Harry pulled his cloak tighter as he walked through the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow, the wind clawing at his neck even down here, where it shouldn’t have been able to reach. October had no business being this cold. His fingers stung a little. His nose was already half-numb. And of course, it had to be Halloween. Everyone else was probably upstairs, stuffing themselves with pumpkin pasties and waiting for Dumbledore to pull some big dramatic reveal about the champions. That damn Goblet. That stupid blue flame. He bet Fred and George were still trying to cheat the age line.
Meanwhile, he was heading to a shack full of dust and ghosts, because today was the day he’d decided to visit his parents’ graves for the first time. With Sirius. Just them.
He hadn’t told Ron. Or Hermione. Or anyone. Not because he didn’t trust them, but because this didn’t feel like something you told people about.
His boots scuffed against old stone as he pushed forward, deeper into the tunnel.
One of a dozen things Harry couldn’t stop thinking about was that bloody Gringotts meeting. He’d written to Richard right after, asking what to actually do with the basilisk materials. The reply came fast. Just a list, straight to the point.
Potter,
Hide: Forge it now if you want it flexible. Best used for armor or gear. Holds enchantments better than dragon hide.
Fangs: Keep six. Use them for ritual tools or focus carving. The rest need shielding. Don’t test them.
Bone: Steep in potion stock. Use as base for core-enhancing elixirs. Two doses max. Any more, it turns volatile.
Residue: Unknown. Dangerous. Do not interact without backup.
Harry liked the way Richard wrote. . He made things feel doable.
Still, doable didn’t mean simple.
The tunnel sloped up, then leveled out, and a minute later Harry reached the old trapdoor. He pushed it open with one hand, his wand already in the other just in case. The floorboards groaned as he climbed through into the dusty, crooked room. It looked the same as the last time he’d been here peeling walls, broken furniture, a window half-covered by a rotting curtain.
Sirius was standing by the old fireplace, arms folded, one boot propped against the brick. And for the first time in ages, he didn’t look like a ghost hiding in someone else’s life. He’d shaved. His coat looked new. Or at least, cleaner. There was even a bit of color in his cheeks.
It threw Harry off for a second.
“You look… good,” he said, before he could think about it.
Sirius turned at the sound of his voice. When he saw Harry, his whole expression softened in a way that made Harry’s chest tighten.
“Thanks,” Sirius said. “I’ve been trying.”
Harry didn’t answer. He just crossed the room, and Sirius pulled him into a quick, tight hug solid and warm, with one hand gripping the back of Harry’s jacket.
“You alright?” Sirius asked as they pulled apart.
Harry gave a shrug and a half-smile. “Not really. But I’m here.”
Sirius nodded, like that was enough. Maybe it was.
Sirius stepped back and he nodded toward the boarded-up window behind him, where a weak slice of sunlight cut across the floor.
“We’ll talk more on the way,” he said “But we’ve got a bit of traveling to do first. Side-along Apparition. It’s the quickest way.”
Harry blinked. “I’ve never..”
“I know. That’s why I’m driving.” Sirius smirked. “You just hold on and try not to hurl.”
Harry gave a dry look but stepped forward, heart thudding a little faster now. He hadn’t thought much about the actual getting-there part.
“Alright,” Sirius said, offering his arm. “Deep breath. Don’t let go.”
Harry nodded once, gripped his godfather’s arm tight, and braced himself as Sirius turned in place hard and fast and the world vanished.
They landed in a patch of grass just off a narrow lane, the world snapping back like an elastic band. Harry staggered a little but stayed upright. A low stone wall lined the road ahead, and just beyond it sat a small church with a crooked steeple and a graveyard tucked behind. The village around them looked like something out of a storybook, old houses with ivy on the bricks and a post box leaning slightly to one side. Harry’s throat felt tight as he took it all in, something twisting deep in his chest.
Sirius didn’t say anything right away. He gave Harry a moment, just stood beside him and looked toward the church. The wind nudged the edge of his coat as he finally stepped forward, boots crunching lightly over the gravel. Harry followed, slower this time, eyes scanning every rooftop and garden gate like he could somehow recognize something. He knew he wouldn’t. He had been one year old.
“You know,” Sirius started, “Godric’s Hollow used to go all out for Halloween. Whole village would light enchanted lanterns, kids in costume casting harmless little jinxes on each other, fireworks at midnight, the works.” He gave a dry breath of something close to a laugh. “But after that night… after James and Lily… it just stopped. Decorations came down and never went back up. Every year, the rest of the country celebrates, but here it’s just another day that hurts a little more.” He looked ahead again. ““They remember. Just not with pumpkins.” Sirius paused, then added quietly, “It’s their way of showing respect, Harry. For your parents. For you.”
They stepped through the old iron gate, its hinges groaning softly as it swung open behind them. The graveyard stretched ahead, quiet and overgrown in places, with patches of moss climbing the older stones. A few flowers dotted the edges, some fresh, some long wilted. Harry’s heart thumped faster. He didn’t say anything, but the closer they walked, the more it felt like he wasn’t ready for this.
They stopped at the edge of the grave, and Harry’s stomach turned. For a second, he couldn’t move. He just stared at the stone in front of him, like maybe if he stood still long enough it’d vanish, or change, or tell him this wasn’t real. But it didn’t. It was just there. His parents’ names carved into cold rock. James Potter. Lily Potter. He read them over and over, as if he could will the letters to speak. This was it. There was no spell to undo it, no forgotten story where they escaped. No miracle. Just names. Dates. And a line someone had chosen, probably not even knowing if it would help.
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
Harry’s hand trembled, and he shoved it into his coat pocket so Sirius wouldn’t see. But Sirius wasn’t looking at him. He was watching the stone too, still and quiet, like maybe he was back in that night for a second. Harry took a breath that didn’t help. Then another. He stepped closer.
His knees hit the ground before he even realized he’d moved. The cold bit through his trousers, but he barely felt it. He reached out, slowly, and laid his hand flat against the stone. It was rough and solid and so real it made his stomach twist.
His voice came out quiet, barely more than a breath.
“Mom… Dad…”
The words sat there in the air, too small for what they meant. Too late.
Sirius knelt beside him, quiet as the wind brushing through the grass. Harry saw the movement from the corner of his eye, but didn’t look. He was still staring at the stone, fingers pressed to his mother’s name like the shape of the letters might give something back.
There was a whisper of magic and then the faint rustle of petals. Harry turned his head just slightly and saw Sirius setting down a small bouquet of lilies, fresh and uneven, their stems still dewy.
“She always liked them best like this. Not from a shop. Just… growing. A bit wild.”
Harry blinked, and in the corner of his vision he saw Sirius again. Head bowed, tears sliding down his cheeks. It hit Harry harder than the grave ever could. He’d never seen him like that before. Never thought he would. Sirius, who always joked too loud and smiled like nothing could touch him, was breaking right beside him, and Harry didn’t know what to do with that. Two broken men, side by side, sharing their grief in the only way that made sense.. by not pretending it didn’t hurt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
at the same time in Great Hall..
Hermione sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes fixed on the Goblet. Her mind wasn’t on the fire. It was on the empty space beside her. Harry hadn’t shown up for the feast. No message, no note, not even Ron knew where he’d gone. She tried not to fidget, tried not to let her worry curl into something sharper, but it was there, pricking at her ribs like a missed answer on a test she hadn’t studied for.
The Goblet flared.
“Viktor Krum.”
Durmstrang clapped like a war drum. Hermione joined in, politely, trying to focus, trying to act like any of this mattered. But the ache in her stomach didn’t ease.
“Fleur Delacour.”
She clapped again, softer now. Ron looked like he was about to fall out of his seat. She didn’t say anything.
“Cedric Diggory.”
A loud cheer from Hufflepuff. Hermione smiled for half a second. Cedric deserved it. But her heart still beat too fast. Where was he?
Dumbledore stood, his expression composed as ever, though Hermione noticed the slight crease at the edge of his brow. He raised his goblet in both hands. “Let us take a moment to commend the champions chosen by the Goblet of Fire. They stand not only for their schools, but for the ideals of courage, skill, and unity that this tournament was built…”
The flames erupted.
Hermione jerked in her seat as the Goblet’s blue fire twisted to red, roaring louder than before. A hush swept the Great Hall. Sparks flew high into the air, and then, without warning, a fourth piece of parchment shot out. Dumbledore caught it without looking away from the Goblet. He stared at the name for too long.
He lifted his head, eyes scanning the Gryffindor table.
“Harry Potter.”
Hermione’s breath caught.
Across the Hall, no one moved. She felt all eyes swing toward her.
Dumbledore’s voice came again, quieter, like it was meant only for her. “Where is Harry Potter, Miss Granger?”
And in that moment, the worst moment, she had to say the one thing she never wanted to.
“I don’t know.”
Comments
MASTERCHEIF1229 .
Great chapter! I can't wait for the next one!
Benjamin Ludes
Really good i don't think I've read a iteration where Harry isn't present during his selection. Ps.: I love your writing. Keep up the good work!
