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0741 At Hogwarts
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 11:10:08 +0000 UTCAs the calendar pages turned toward that date marked throughout the castle, the topic of the Triwizard Tournament surged back to prominence sweeping through every corridor, classroom, and common room of Hogwarts.
The same phenomenon that had electrified the students before the first task was showing once again. Wherever one went within the school you could hear young wizards tirelessly discussing the outcome of the second task.
In this tournament fever, Cedric was receiving an unprecedented level of attention that far exceeded than he had before of the first task.
Though this was only natural, wasn't it?
Although Cedric had always officially held the title of Hogwarts' chosen champion, the reality had been that Gryffindor students had felt no need to rally behind Hufflepuff's champion. After all, they had their own champion for the tournament.
But now, with Hermione's absence from the castle, the situation was different.
It was a new week, and Angelina, along with Alicia, Katie, and the other Gryffindor Quidditch team girls, walked together from the entrance hall into the Great Hall. When they saw the two boys at the far end of the Gryffindor table, heads buried in their food and radiating an aura that warned others to stay away, the girls sighed disappointedly.
Still, Angelina asked with a glimmer of hope.
"Hey, Harry, Ron, Is there any news about Hermione?"
Harry, who had been mechanically spooning pumpkin soup into his mouth with the joyless efficiency of someone eating purely for survival, suddenly slammed his spoon down onto his tray with a bang.
"I've said it at least a thousand times already, and I'm getting bloody tired of repeating myself!"
Without even turning around, Harry shouted.
"Professor McGonagall won't let us write letters—she's absolutely terrified it might somehow disturb Hermione's treatment process or interfere with whatever complex magical healing procedures they're performing on her at St. Mungo's! If you're all so desperately worried about her condition and can't seem to function without hourly updates, then why don't you take leave from your classes and march yourselves over to that hospital to camp out in the waiting room like we want to do!"
Only after finishing his explosive outburst did Harry finally turn in his seat to identify his interrogator. When he realized that he had somewhat embarrassed his close teammates from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Harry pressed his lips together but didn't apologize.
Instead, he glumly picked up his silver spoon and continued eating breakfast quickly with a gloomy expression, hoping to leave this noisy place as soon as possible.
Angelina, who had inexplicably been yelled at, wasn't angry. She just sighed softly, shrugged, and walked past Harry with Katie and Alicia.
"Mate, look," Just as Harry was struggling to suppress the endless anger in his heart, Ron, who was sitting across from him with an equally dark expression, looked up and jerked his chin toward something behind Harry.
At the Hufflepuff table, Cedric Diggory was looking their way with a troubled expression, as if unsure whether it was because of Harry's shouting just now, or because he too wanted to come over and check on the situation.
"I promise you, Ron—" Harry's voice dropped to a menacing whisper as he glanced briefly at Cedric before withdrawing his gaze.
"If he dares to come over here with some pathetic attempt to gloat about his improved chances, or to offer some condescending sympathy, I'll definitely make sure his nose ends up looking just like Dumbledore's. In fact, I've been wanting to rearrange his face for ages!"
Neville, who had been sitting nearby and trying his best to remain invisible while eating his breakfast in nervous silence, opened his mouth as though he wanted to interject some voice of reason into this increasingly toxic conversation.
His face had the expression of someone who had something important to say but lacked the courage to voice it in the current hostile atmosphere.
From what Neville knew of Cedric Diggory's character, Cedric would never engage in something as petty and cruel as gloating over another person's misfortune. But as Neville looked at the deadly expressions on Harry and Ron's faces, the words died in his throat before they could emerge.
The transformation in Harry and Ron's behavior had been shocking to witness.
Ever since that day when Hermione had been attacked and subsequently transported to St. Mungo's for treatment, the two boys had become increasingly difficult to live with.
Specifically, they had developed the paranoia of looking at everyone around them as though each person were secretly the culprit behind the attack that had torn their trio apart.
The situation had reached its peak the previous Friday night, when Ron had stood in the middle of their dormitory and gave something like a paranoid rant.
"It was definitely either Cedric or Krum," Ron said with the absolute certainty of someone who had convinced himself that his theories were actually established facts. "Or maybe it was both of them working together— it was their conspiracy to eliminate the competition! Think about it logically: with Hermione gone from the tournament, the two of them are now tied for first place. It's exactly what they would have wanted!"
The other boys in the dormitory exchanged worried glances, clearly concerned about their friend's deteriorating mental state but were unsure how to talk about it without making the situation worse.
Harry rather than reasoning to offset his best friend's increasingly extreme theories, had instead chose to escalate the situation even further. Not content with Ron's conspiracy theory, he included even more participants.
"Think about it, Ron!" Harry paced back and forth excitedly, waving his arms as he spoke loudly. "Hermione and Fleur are both the female champions in this tournament, but Hermione was in first place while that Beauxbatons girl was stuck in last place, looking like a complete failure in front of her entire school!"
Harry paused beside Seamus Finnigan's bed, his breathing rapid as though he had been running rather than simply walking around the room. When he continued speaking, his voice had been filled with hatred.
"You know what that French champion did just to show off her supposed superiority—she even invited me to accompany her to the Yule ball, hoping to make Professor Watson jealous to prove that she was more desirable! She must have been absolutely consumed with jealousy over Hermione's success!"
The hatred and venom in Harry's voice had been genuinely frightening to witness.
"Professor Watson doesn't need to waste time on any kind of investigation at all," Harry then concluded, "He should just send all three of the other champions straight to Azkaban prison where they belong, lock them up with the Dementors, and let them rot for what they've done to Hermione!"
The three remaining boys in the dormitory Seamus, Neville, and Dean Thomas huddled together on Dean's bed in the far corner of the room, as far away from Harry and Ron as they could.
Their faces turned pale with fear as they watched their roommates fall further into what could only be described as a shared madness born of grief and helplessness.
"They've completely lost it," Neville said tremblingly in terror.
The fourth-year class schedule that day included a morning combination that usually brought mixed reactions from the students: Herbology shared with the Hufflepuff students, followed by Care of Magical Creatures taught alongside Slytherin.
Perhaps only in Care of Magical Creatures could Harry and Ron relax a bit, because only Hagrid could fully understand their feelings. In other professors' classes, they were still expected to maintain their usual focus on coursework, completely ignoring the fact that they were facing the reality of their best friend's life hanging in the balance.
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the day's lesson was proceeding with its usual chaotic energy. The Blast-Ended Skrewts those bizarre hybrid creatures that Hagrid had been nurturing since the beginning of the school year, had grown considerably since their first appearance as tiny, seemingly harmless larvae.
Now "well-developed" to a size that made them genuinely dangerous rather than just irritating, the skrewts resembled an armor-plated scorpions crossed with explosive devices. Most unsettling of all were the sporadic explosions that erupted from their backs, propelling them forward in unpredictable directions while leaving behind clouds of smoke that made the students' eyes water.
The combined class of Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth-years was engaged in what could generously be called a "learning experience" but might more accurately be described as a frantic exercise in survival.
Students scattered in all directions as the skrewts pursued them. Shouts of alarm, nervous laughter, and the occasional yelp of pain created a noise that would have been amusing under different circumstances.
Observing this controlled chaos with his eyes twinkling in satisfaction, Hagrid seemed totally pleased with how the lesson was progressing. To him, any class period that ended without 'serious' injury could be considered a complete success, and the fact that his students were actively engaged with the creatures even if that engagement consisted mostly of running away from them showed that they were learning valuable lessons about magical creature behavior.
However, Hagrid's attention was not focused on 'teaching'. He approached Harry and Ron and began walking with them.
"I was sitting at the staff table during breakfast this morning, and I could hear you shouting at Johnson from all the way across the entire Great Hall, Harry," Hagrid began, his voice carrying a gentle reproach.
"I feel I have to talk to you both about this. Johnson is your friend too, Harry, she's been your teammate on the Quidditch team for years. The way you spoke to her was completely inappropriate and hurtful, especially considering that she was only asking because she cares about Hermione just as much as you do.
And you should understand why Professor McGonagall has made the decision not to allow letters to reach Hermione right now. It's not because she wants to keep you in the dark or because she doesn't trust you—it's because the healers at St. Mungo's have advised that any external stimulation might interfere with the magical treatments she's receiving. Speaking about Professor McGonagall in that tone is disrespectful."
Harry stood with his face drained of all color, his lips pressed together in a thin line showing his internal struggle.
Meanwhile, Ron's reaction was more explosive and less thoughtful. His face flushed red with indignation as he huffed angrily, his eyes were blazing with the frustrated fury of someone who felt constantly misunderstood and unfairly criticized.
"But we've had enough of it, Hagrid!" Ron burst out. "Every single person who has ever had so much as a conversation with Hermione comes to us demanding updates about her condition, as if we're supposed to be some kind of information bureau that knows everything about what's happening at St. Mungo's! They act like it's our responsibility to provide them with amusing regular reports!"
His words tumbled out in a rush, as though he had been storing up this complaint for weeks and finally found an opportunity to say it. "We don't know any more than they do! We're just worried, just desperate for news, just terrified that something terrible might happen to her! But everyone expects us to have answers!"
Hagrid listened to Ron's outburst with the patient understanding. When Ron finally ran out of steam, he nodded slowly.
"They ask because they care about Hermione's condition just as much as you two do, don't they?" Hagrid said gently. "When people are worried about someone they care about, they naturally turn to those who are closest to that person."
The reasonableness of Hagrid's explanation seemed to break something in Harry. The anger that had been supporting him for weeks suddenly crumbled, leaving behind only raw pain and helplessness.
"I don't think that's true, Hagrid," Harry said what he thought without holding back. "They don't actually care whether Hermione lives or dies—not really. They only care about whether she can make it back in time for the stupid Triwizard Tournament, whether she can still compete and win honor for Hogwarts. That's all any of them really want to know: is their entertainment going to be ruined by her absence?"
The bitterness in Harry's voice was obvious to hear.
"That's just your own perspective showing how you interpret their actions, Harry, not others' true feelings," Hagrid's voice became more serious.
"I heard Professor McGonagall mention this morning that you two have already managed to earn detention with three different professors in just the past week. If this behavior continues longer, you'll face suspension or even expulsion, which would mean being sent home. I hope you can both find a way to behave more rationally before that happens."
Seeing that Harry was preparing to launch into another defensive argument, Hagrid held up one hand to stop any interruption. "I can understand that you're both worried about Hermione's life and that you want to know about her condition. But I have to tell you something that might help put your minds at ease, at least partially: sometimes no news is good news, because it at least means that Hermione's condition is stable for the time being."
Glancing at Neville, who had been lifted into the air by a Blast-Ended Skrewt's pincers and was screaming miserably, Hagrid paused: "Hey, Longbottom, get down from there! What are you doing hanging from a skrewt's pincers? That's very dangerous!"
After shouting his warning, Hagrid turned back to the two boys standing in front of him.
"You need to think about this logically, The two most powerful wizards in the entire European magical world Professor Watson and Headmaster Dumbledore are working to ensure Hermione's safety and recovery. What more could you possibly be worried about?"
BANG!
The sudden explosive sound that interrupted Hagrid's heartfelt speech.
All three members of the spur-of-the-moment counseling session turned in unison toward the commotion.
The explosive sound had indeed come from Neville falling to the ground from mid-air, while the Blast-Ended Skrewt's raised pincers were still smoking.
"What in the name of Merlin's beard do you think you're doing out here, Hagrid!"
Professor McGonagall, who had suddenly appeared at the Care of Magical Creatures class, said with a stern face, "Mr. Longbottom was nearly torn apart by your skrewt. Didn't you notice?"
"Well, I thought that he was... ahem," Hagrid began, his massive body somehow managing to appear smaller and more childlike under Professor McGonagall's menacing stare.
As he watched her eyebrows climb higher and higher up her forehead, Hagrid shrank his head guiltily between his shoulders like a turtle retreating into its shell. "I mean to say, I was just about to rush to his rescue, naturally. I was simply... gathering my thoughts and observing the situation before taking action. So, um, what brings you out to visit our little class today, Professor McGonagall?"
"I came to find Potter and Weasley,"
Professor McGonagall walked over, helped the weak-kneed Neville to his feet, and glared fiercely at several Slytherin students who were laughing at the scene.
"Oh, Professor McGonagall, if this is about what happened in the Great Hall this morning..."
Hagrid glanced at the surprised and guilty Harry and Ron, sighed, and prepared to make some excuse for them.
"Hurry along now, Potter, Weasley," Professor McGonagall said somewhat impatiently. "Professor Black is waiting for you two in Gryffindor Tower. He said he can't stay long—he needs to get back to St. Mungo's quickly!"
"Sirius?!"
Harry and Ron looked at each other, both seeing confusion in the other's eyes. They knew he was at St. Mungo's watching over Hermione to prevent anyone from making a second attempt on her, but why had he suddenly come to Hogwarts?
Harry and Ron felt no joy in their hearts, only fear—fear of bad news.
Seeing the pale-faced Harry and Ron, Professor McGonagall's pressed lips quietly curved into a smile, and her expression, which had been tense for some time, completely melted under this smile. "Professor Black also brought news. Now hurry along, both of you —I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear this good news!"
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