章 525: 0524 Discussion
Crack! Pop!
The crackling sound of magical energy filled the air as Dumbledore raised his wand, pointing it towards the fireplace. With a swift, fluid motion and a softly murmured incantation, the flames roared to life, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.
As the fire settled into a steady blaze, Dumbledore turned his attention to the portraits that lined the walls. With a gentle smile despite the seriousness of the situation, Dumbledore addressed them.
"My dear friends, I must ask you to leave us for a moment. We have some matters to discuss in private." Despite the fact that the portraits were contractually bound to obey the current headmaster, Dumbledore still requested to them courteously.
The portraits stirred, some grumbling good-naturedly while others nodded in understanding. One by one, they vacated their frames, leaving behind empty canvases that seemed to absorb the firelight, creating an illusion that made the room feel larger and more isolated.
With the room now truly private, Dumbledore settled himself into a plush armchair, his long silver beard gleaming in the firelight. His bright blue eyes, usually twinkling, now held a somber, thoughtful look as he gazed into the dancing flames.
"In my opinion," Dumbledore began, his voice calm, as if the earlier shocking events had ceased to trouble him, "this wasn't Tom's idea."
Bryan, who had been pacing near the window, paused at Dumbledore's words. He turned to face him, his brow furrowed in thought.
"You mean," he said, rubbing his temples, "like the unauthorized action at the Quidditch Cup, this wasn't ordered by Voldemort, but rather another genius scheme conceived by Professor Moody?"
His voice carried a hint of bitter sarcasm at the mention of 'genius.'
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlacing on his knee as he considered his response. His gaze drifted upwards, focusing on the elaborate chandelier that hung from the ceiling, its crystals catching and refracting the firelight in a mesmerizing display.
"I can't give you a definitive answer, Bryan," Dumbledore said after a long moment of contemplation. His voice was tinged with a mixture of uncertainty and concern. "What I can tell you is that unless Tom has had a complete change of heart during his years of suffering, he wouldn't have chosen Miss Granger.
He lacks your keen and wise eye that can recognize Miss Granger's extraordinary qualities. We all expected him to target Harry, which would align perfectly with Tom's past behavior, unless—"
Here, Dumbledore paused, and turned to face Bryan directly. His blue eyes seemed to pierce through him, as if trying to convey a deeper meaning. "Something happened that made Tom feel he needed to alter his plans to avoid my discovering of his strategy to use Harry for his resurrection. Perhaps that's why he was willing to listen to someone else's suggestion."
Bryan nodded slightly, his mind racing to process this new perspective. There weren't many people in Voldemort's inner circle now who could offer him advice, except for that foolish woman outside masquerading as Alastor Moody.
"A reasonable deduction, Headmaster," Bryan said thoughtfully. "At the Quidditch World Cup, Cliodna wanted to deliver Harry to Voldemort before he returned to school, and caused quite a commotion. This failed attempt might have made Voldemort think you would be more vigilant, so he decided to conceal his true intentions more carefully." He paused, his brow furrowing deeper as he considered the next logical question. "The only question now is, why did Cliodna set her sights on Hermione Granger?"
"I rather doubt it was Miss Granger's outstanding academic performance that caught your friend's attention," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His long fingers absently stroked his silver beard as he spoke. "If Tom were making this decision himself, young Ron Weasley would have been the more obvious choice, given the long-standing connection between his family and Harry."
"Which means," Bryan ignored Dumbledore's jest, and said thoughtfully, "Cliodna must have seen something that made her believe Harry and Hermione's relationship was particularly close. Through Hermione, she could manipulate events to ensure Harry would become entangled in the tournament, creating opportunities to take him away from under our very noses. And somehow, this reasoning was persuasive enough to convince Voldemort to alter his usual methods."
As he spoke, Bryan's brow furrowed even deeper, his mind delving into the possibilities. Before the school year began, Cliodna and Hermione's only possible encounter should have been at the World Cup—or had the woman used her old tricks and conducted a thorough investigation at Hermione's home?
Dumbledore, noticing Bryan's intense concentration, gently intervened. "We can never uncover all truths through speculation alone, Bryan," he said, his voice carrying a note of caution. Then, his expression grew more serious, a hint of worry creeping into his eyes. "What troubles me more deeply now is Miss Granger's position in all this, Bryan. Do you think we should maintain our original stance?"
Bryan raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore's question. The hesitation in Dumbledore's voice surprised him—it was rare to see the headmaster display such uncertainty. Yet as he pondered the situation more deeply, he found himself understanding the source of Dumbledore's uncharacteristic uncertainty.
When it came to facing Voldemort, Harry and Hermione were vastly different. Hermione's blood didn't carry the protection Lily Evans had built with her life, her soul didn't harbor a fragment of Voldemort's soul, and she lacked the ancient magic Dumbledore had placed on Harry as a precaution years ago.
She was brilliant and strong-willed, but she wasn't 'special' like Harry in the ways that mattered.
Dumbledore and Bryan could let Harry face Voldemort with relative peace of mind, knowing Voldemort couldn't kill him now. But Hermione... Without any protection, Hermione couldn't possibly survive an encounter with Voldemort.
They had tacitly allowed Voldemort's resurrection seeing it as a necessary evil to ensure his final and complete destruction, but to let Hermione become the first casualty in the brutal war that would follow Voldemort's return—neither Dumbledore nor Bryan could accept that. Even if war demanded sacrifices, they couldn't accept deliberately sending an underage witch to her death.
The current difficulty was that, with their tacit approval, Hermione had already entered into a contract with the Goblet of Fire. And this was now a real mess.
Suddenly, Bryan's eyelids flickered as a memory he had kept buried surfaced in his mind. This recollection not only provided a new perspective on their current dilemma but also confirmed some of his suspicions.
With newborn conviction, Bryan stated, "I believe Miss Granger won't face mortal danger in the upcoming series of events. I think the risks are still controllable."
A strange light flickered in Dumbledore's eyes as he looked at Bryan with slight surprise. He could sense that the hesitation that had surrounded Bryan moments ago had vanished, replaced by a calm certainty that was both reassuring and intriguing.
"What makes you so certain, Bryan?" Dumbledore asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern. "I'm sure you understand we're discussing a student's life here."
Bryan met Dumbledore's gaze steadily.
"I'm confident, Headmaster," he said, his voice calm and resolute. The subtle ripples in his eyes sparked many thoughts in Dumbledore's mind. "I will ensure that Hermione Granger, and all the champions, will not face mortal danger."
With these words, Bryan stood up, signaling his readiness to end the discussion.
Dumbledore, however, wasn't quite ready to let the matter rest. As Bryan turned to leave, he asked one last question, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "You still won't tell me about how you came to know that remarkable lady, Bryan?"
Bryan paused mid-step, but didn't turn around. For a moment, he was transported back to July of the previous year.
What surfaced in his mind wasn't his first encounter with Cliodna at the orphanage, but rather their journey to Stonehenge. He recalled vividly what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised—the gateway to Stonehenge—a little girl standing in the rain amidst the ruins of past happiness, crying.
Shaking off the recollection, Bryan responded without turning around. "It's not a particularly fascinating story worth sharing, Headmaster," But before Dumbledore could show his disappointment, he added, "When the time is right, I'll share some of it with you."
With those words, Bryan left the room, leaving Dumbledore alone in the office.
In the Student Safety Office.
The room was bathed in a reddish glow, cast by the smoldering pine wood in the fireplace. Outside, the winter wind howled relentlessly, its fury echoing through the ancient stones of the castle. In the Forbidden Forest, countless trees swayed their branches wildly, moving like surging waves in a storm-tossed sea.
Bryan lay on his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and concerns. The events of the day played out before his mind's eye in a ceaseless loop: Hermione Granger becoming an unexpected champion, the controlled Barty Crouch acting out his part, Cliodna scurrying around under Moody's identity.
He thought of Remus's progress in his secret mission, of Sirius's delicate situation at the Ministry, of Voldemort's approaching footsteps growing ever louder. And looming over it all, the inevitable clash of approaches between himself and Dumbledore once the war began in earnest.
And there was something he still couldn't understand—why had Herpo's Staff, which he had narrowly missed obtaining on Avalon Island, led Cliodna to join Voldemort?
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Bryan felt an almost overwhelming impulse rise within him. He imagined rushing to Moody's office right now, subduing Cliodna, and forcing her to answer his myriad questions. The urge was so strong, so instinctual, that when Bryan came to his senses, he found he had unconsciously gripped his wand turning his knuckles white with tension.
Logic and reason ultimately prevailed over emotional impulse. He knew all too well how cautious that woman was—her disguises and defenses extended to the very level of her soul. The idea of forcibly controlling and interrogating her, then erasing her memory, was likely impossible.
As this realization settled over him, Bryan felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders like a physical burden. And with it came a profound sense of loneliness, the kind that comes from being at the top, from knowing things others couldn't comprehend.
He thought back to his time as a student at Hogwarts, when Professor Snape's protection, both obvious and subtle, had been one of his sources of confidence and security. Now, the tables had turned. He was the one providing shelter to others, with no one truly qualified to shelter him—not even Dumbledore.
"Sleep," Bryan murmured to himself, his voice barely audible above the howling wind outside. With a soft sigh, he turned over to face the boundless darkness beyond the window. As he closed his eyes, allowing the exhaustion of the day to finally claim him, Bryan drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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章 526: 0525 Concerns & Joy
As the Triwizard Champions were finally determined, the much-anticipated competition was about to officially begin. Under normal circumstances, Hogwarts Castle should have been brimming with an atmosphere of unbridled jubilation. However, the recent unexpected turn of events had cast a cloud of uncertainty over the proceedings, making everything unpredictable.
Accompanied by Professor McGonagall, Hermione ascended the stone staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of her newfound status as an unexpected champion was physically dragging at her feet.
As they climbed, Hermione could feel the weight of countless eyes upon her. The portraits on the walls, normally content to doze or chat quietly amongst themselves, were now very lively. They pointed and whispered as she passed, their hushed conversations creating a soft buzz that seemed to follow in her trail.
Hermione tried to reassure herself that their discussions weren't malicious; these portraits simply treated her situation as a noteworthy juicy piece of gossip and an excellent excuse for them to gather in each other's frames. Still, the constant murmuring and furtive glances did little to ease the knot of anxiety in her stomach.
As they approached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione's steps became increasingly hesitant. It was only now, standing on the threshold of her house's entrance, that she realized the true extent of what lay ahead.
She had thought facing the questioning gazes of so many Wizarding world's dignitaries in that room behind the Great Hall was frightening enough. But now, Hermione came to the scary realization that what she was about to face – the reactions and judgments of her peers, her friends, her housemates – was even more terrifying.
Perhaps sensing her growing unease, Hermione felt Professor McGonagall's hand on her shoulder give a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, marked by the portrait of the Fat Lady. Professor McGonagall held Hermione back at a subtle distance from the portrait.
Hermione immediately looked up at her Head of House, her brown eyes wide with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity. She noticed that Professor McGonagall was smiling, but it was a tight smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. It was clear that she was trying to conceal her own worry behind that facade of reassurance.
"I must admit, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall began, her Scottish accent slightly more distinct with emotion, "this situation is very strange, even for someone who has seen as much as I have at Hogwarts—"
The professor's shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly, but after drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she continued in an uncharacteristically gentle tone that Hermione had rarely heard her use:
"At this juncture, whatever nefarious plans the person who placed your name in the Goblet of Fire might be orchestrating, Miss Granger, the fact remains that you are now, officially, a Triwizard champion. So, I sincerely hope you can embody the true Gryffindor spirit that I know resides within you and face this extraordinary challenge to the absolute best of your considerable abilities, alright?"
Hermione's eyes welled up again, a mix of emotions – gratitude, fear, determination – swirling within her. She found herself at a loss for words, unsure how to respond to Professor McGonagall's expectations. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders, and for a moment, she felt overwhelmed by it all.
Seeing Hermione's struggle, Professor McGonagall pressed on, her voice taking on a note of encouragement. "There has always been persistent chatter among certain students that you're nothing more than a simple bookworm,"
Professor McGonagall continued, her nostrils flaring slightly with disapproval. "Oh, what utter nonsense! The professors have always dismissed such short-sighted talk. But surely you understand, Miss Granger, this tournament presents an unprecedented opportunity to silence those foolish rumors once and for all!"
"But—" Hermione's mind was racing with a thousand concerns and uncertainties, but she forced herself to push aside the chaos of her thoughts and focus on Professor McGonagall's encouraging words.
"Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have specifically chosen their most capable students, and Cedric is certainly among Hogwarts' best. Professor Watson has also made it clear that the Triwizard Tournament tasks are extremely dangerous. I simply don't know enough advanced magic yet, Professor McGonagall, I'm not certain if I can possibly—"
"Oh, Miss Granger—" Professor McGonagall interrupted her student's spiral of self-doubt, her voice carrying a rare note of fierce pride,
"While I don't precisely know about the teaching standards at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, I can say with absolute certainty that regarding Cedric Diggory—yes, that boy is undoubtedly excellent, but I firmly believe you are even more exceptional, Miss Granger. If he possesses the capabilities to handle those competition tasks, there is absolutely no logical reason why you cannot do the same, if not better!"
In the bright firelight that flickered from nearby brackets, Hermione stared at Professor McGonagall with wide, disbelieving eyes. She could hardly believe that her stern Head of House had given her such high praise. It was well known throughout Hogwarts that Professor McGonagall was always 'reserved' when it came to giving compliments to students.
Seeing Hermione's shock, a hint of mischief crept into Professor McGonagall's expression. "Ah, naturally, I trust my rather enthusiastic assessment of your abilities won't reach Madam Pomfrey's ears, you understand my meaning perfectly well, Miss Granger?"
To Hermione's utter amazement, Professor McGonagall winked playfully. It was an incredibly rare sight, one that Hermione would have thought impossible from someone who always prioritized maintaining her image and authority in front of students. This small gesture, more than anything else, helped to ease some of the tension that had been building in Hermione's chest.
As they approached the Fat Lady's portrait, the sound of voices from within the common room grew louder. Just as the portrait began to swing open, Harry's impatient voice cut through the noise:
"I've already told you!" he exclaimed; his frustration evident even through the thick oak of the portrait. "Hermione spent the entire day with me, Ron, Hagrid, and a large group of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. They can all testify that Hermione couldn't possibly have had time to put her name in the Goblet of Fire!"
As the portrait fully opened, revealing the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was struck by the sheer number of people crammed into the space. It seemed that almost every student from first to seventh year had gathered there, creating a sea of red and gold. At the center of the crowd, standing on a table to be seen and heard above the noise, were the few people who had always been close to Hermione.
"Potter!" Professor McGonagall called out, her face instantly transforming back into the stern expression that Hermione was so familiar with. She stood at the entrance, but her voice easily drowned out by the noisy crowd. Everyone's attention was focused on Harry, completely unaware of Professor McGonagall and Hermione's arrival.
"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall raised her voice and called out sternly again. "Would you kindly remove yourself from that table this instant?"
Harry, looking exhausted from repeatedly answering the crowd's questions about how Hermione had managed to put her name in the Goblet of Fire, seemed to have reached the end of his patience. Despite his insistence that Hermione didn't have the time and wouldn't have done such a thing behind their backs, his classmates seemed to have filters on their ears, blocking out his words. Meanwhile, Ron, who had been testifying alongside him earlier, now remained stubbornly silent.
At the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice, Harry's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the entrance. He saw Professor McGonagall looking at him sternly, and beside her, Hermione, who managed to give him a small, tired smile.
"Oh, bloody hell—sorry, Professor McGonagall!" Harry exclaimed, his face flushing with embarrassment as he scrambled to jump down from his impromptu podium. However, the density of the crowd surrounding the table made his hasty exit rather problematic.
In his rush to comply with Professor McGonagall's order, he accidentally fixed his foot directly on Ginny's toes, causing her to let out a cat-like yelp of pain that echoed through the common room. Harry barely had time to toss a hurried apology over his shoulder before pushing his way through the sea of bodies, not even waiting to hear Ginny's response, as he rushed to reach Professor McGonagall and Hermione.
"How did everything go?" Harry asked breathlessly, his green eyes wide with genuine concern behind his glasses as he stared intently at his best friend, searching her face for clues about her fate.
Hermione, clearly aware of why Harry's voice was so hoarse, pressed her lips together in a thin line and blinked at him. Their years of close friendship allowed Harry to immediately understand that things weren't too bad; at least Hermione hadn't been expelled over this, otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to muster even the faintest smile.
Slightly relieved, Harry finally started to worry about his own predicament. He stole a quick glance at Professor McGonagall, expecting to see her trademark stern expression. To his surprise, he found that her face wasn't as stern as he had anticipated. Behind Harry, the Gryffindor students stood in unusual silence, well aware that their Head of House was a professor who greatly valued rules. So many people crowding the common room when they should be in bed clearly wouldn't please her under normal circumstances.
But these were far from normal circumstances, and to everyone's surprise, Professor McGonagall didn't fly into a rage.
"The school believes—" she began, her gaze sweeping across the sea of confused and nervous young faces before her, "Regarding the extraordinary events of tonight— specifically concerning Hermione Granger's selection as a champion —you should know some truths."
The young witches and wizards leaned forward eagerly, their eyes wide with anticipation as they looked between Professor McGonagall and the silent Hermione.
"At present, after extensive discussion, the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and the Durmstrang Institute have reached a unanimous consensus that Miss Granger's name appearing in the Goblet of Fire was definitely not of her own doing—"
Whoosh!
The moment the words left Professor McGonagall's lips, the previously quiet crowd erupted into a cacophony of excited chatter. Despite Harry's tireless efforts to convince everyone of this very fact throughout the evening, no one had taken his words seriously. After all, who would be magnanimous enough to secretly enter someone else's name into the Goblet of Fire, essentially gifting them the opportunity to become a champion and potentially win eternal glory?
"Who did it then, Professor?" Fred raised his hand high and asked, "Have you found out?"
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Weasley, not yet!" Professor McGonagall's voice became slightly colder, "But I believe the truth will come out sooner or later!"
Angelina Johnson, her brow furrowed in thought, couldn't help but voice the questions that were on everyone's minds. "Then how did you determine it wasn't Hermione herself who put her name in, and why would someone do this?"
These two questions were equally worth addressing, but unfortunately, Professor McGonagall didn't provide an explanation. Her silence on the matter was telling – it was a clear indication that this conclusion had been reached through discussion and consensus among the authorities, and no one should doubt it.
With that, Professor McGonagall seemed to have finished what she wanted to say. She gently pushed Hermione towards the crowd, then, with a nod to the room at large, she turned to leave. But with one foot already in the doorway, Professor McGonagall paused, as if suddenly remembering something important. She turned back to look at the young Gryffindor witches and wizards, and this time, her expression wasn't as serious. In fact, there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, and one final matter—" Professor McGonagall shrugged and said to everyone in a casual tone, "After extensive discussion and deliberation among all concerned parties, Hermione Granger's status as a Triwizard champion has been officially confirmed and deemed absolutely valid."
With that bombshell dropped, Professor McGonagall swept out of the common room, the portrait swinging shut behind her. She completely disregarded the floor-shaking cheers that erupted the moment the Fat Lady's portrait closed, and the sound of jubilation following her down the corridor.
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