Chapter 59: Champions!
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Hermione attempted to back away, but found herself unable, immobilised by both terror and an unholy magic holding her still.
"Here," the voice continued, "you are not only an outcast, but a mudblood - a citizen who barely qualifies as a citizen, hated more than house elfs, a thief of magic. So you curl back into your shell. You promised yourself it would be different, but then you're back to your old ways - helping people, and bossing around people who wanted you dead."
"The best part is that you know you are condemned to remain like this forever; you will die a lonely death, either at the hands of a creature of intelligence inferior to yours or old age." A booming cackle rocked Hermione's world.
"There are a few correct things to do in this circumstance: change, or kill yourself. The first is too difficult for you, but the second will be so easy; all you have to do is turn your wand upon yourself and murmur two words. Surely the most competent witch of the generation knows the spell?"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light exploded outwards and shattered the plane of darkness. A moment later it reformed into a blurry visage of white, which Hermione numbly recognised as the bathroom ceiling. Her dead arm now felt fine, and any prior illness was gone - provided you only counted physical, of course.
Perhaps that had been a dream? Hermione reached for her wand and found it absent. A glance around revealed it to be laying on the floor a few metres away.
She moved to collect it, and paused in horror as she felt two words engraved upon the wood. Avada Kedavra.
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Harry smiled at Daphne as she descended the stairs in her ball gown. "You're going to be the most beautiful girl there," he said, silently adding if Fleur, Maria and a few others don't turn up.
Daphne smiled, her cheeks slightly reddening. "You don't look so bad yourself." He, of course, already knew that. He was effectively wearing a black tuxedo, its shirt silk and green, and a cape upon his back.
That said, he wasn't exactly sure whether he was meant to wear a cape, but who was going to challenge the Boy-Who-Lived? Perhaps he would start a new clothing trend.
Casting that thought aside, he idly conversed with Daphne as he awaited the arrival of the other champions and their partners.
It wasn't long before they arrived, Fleur and Cedric both with people Harry didn't recognise and Krum, surprisingly, with Hermione.
Why Krum had chosen to ask her was quite the mystery. He could've had almost any girl he wanted, but he had chosen the bossy bookworm who was slightly above average at best - and that was when she spent hours doing her hair and make-up.
That said, she hadn't been very bossy since Harry had dealt with her; she was quite a bit timider now. Harry hoped she would remain like that, or he would be forced to deal with her again.
Even now, she glanced over to him. He smiled back at her without a hint of malice and turned back towards the doors, linking arms with Daphne as they prepared to enter the hall. It was not long before the doors opened, and they moved into the packed room, the others following behind.
The room was brightly lit, the floating candles slightly higher than usual, and some grand chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to help illuminate the room.
Students already littered the tables, with a table at the room's head clearly set to host the teachers and champions. With the other champions and Daphne, Harry moved over to it, looking over the room.
Maria sat at a table with a boy from Beauxbatons that Harry was fairly sure he recognised from somewhere. 'The ball at Aurelius Manor,' Loki said, and Harry nodded in response.
Maria appeared to be purposefully avoiding his gaze. He supposed that she was still jealous. She had been expecting him to ask her, probably.
Harry pulled a seat out for Daphne, smiling falsely at his display of chivalry. If he sought to gain her affections, it was best to treat her in ways that would make her naturally more inclined to liking him in combination with his other methods, which included extremely weak love potions and illusions.
The weakness meant she wouldn't ever notice any kind of discrepancy, for she actually had reasons to like him.
Now Harry had actually tried making potions, he had proved rather good at it, largely due to the fact that all he had to do was follow what were basically recipes.
He could simply have Loki control his actions, which made his movements inhumanly precise and thus made making potions rather easy to make.
After going to Knockturn Alley and collecting a few books on the subject he had been able to make almost whatever he wanted, including a powerful hallucinogenic.
That had been what he had used on Hermione, pricking her with a needle as he passed her and spectating upon her thoughts.
All he had done was carve her wand; the hallucinogenic had done the job of conjuring her worst fear.
The illusion might've been a bit extreme, now Harry thought about it. If Hermione killed herself out of the blue, there would be only one culprit Dumbledore would think responsible.
Dumbledore hadn't been interacting as much as usual with students in the past weeks, though had broken this to attend the ball.
He sat at the head of the head table, looking completely ordinary, though Harry noticed that he was yet to look in his direction.
Harry barely listened as the other champions conversed. It wasn't long before the food was served, summoned to the table by house elves, and Harry ate. Only a short time later, Dumbledore stood, clearing his throat with a magical loudness.
"Champions." His voice boomed through the room, yet it sounded completely normal, and Harry hadn't seen him cast a Sonorous charm.
"Would you please stand for the first dance."
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