Chapter 77: 3-2

The day the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived had finally come. Up until then, the only notable event in our classes had been Harry's endurance training against the Imperius Curse (which, naturally, he successfully resisted). Overall, you could say it had been a peaceful time. Everyone gathered in the Great Hall, buzzing with the expectation that everything would finally be set into motion today.

And then—yes, there was no avoiding Hermione's campaign either. I'm sick of even seeing the letters: S.P.E.W.

"House-elves are happy working!"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!"

The bacon bounced like a jumping shrimp from the force of a fist slamming onto the desk. Paying no mind to it, Hermione, who had been snapping at George, glared around the area and finally called me out by name. Ugh, this is exactly why I had been keeping my mouth shut!

"Maria, you agree with me, of course, don't you? After all, you're friends with Dobby! Dobby, the free house-elf!"

"Listen, Hermione."

Hermione pressed in on me, breathing heavily in a very unladylike manner (not that I’m one to talk). For the time being, I loaded some salad onto her plate and evacuated my pumpkin juice to a safe distance.

"It's almost time for the owls' delivery, isn't it?"

"...Yes, it is. As you know?"

Hermione, feeling her train of thought had been derailed, clearly showed her dissatisfaction.

"Owls carry letters—do you call that slave labor?"

"...That's—"

"Would you say this is unjust and that we should free the owls? And do you think those owls would fly off, grateful for their freedom?"

"That's completely different—"

"No, it's not. That's exactly what you're saying. I guarantee it. First of all, our Hedwig would be furious. She'd feel her pride was insulted. And I think a lot of the other owls feel the same way."

Before I knew it, Harry and Ron, and even Fred and George, had fallen silent. Hermione's lips, which looked like they wanted to scream hysterically, were pressed tightly together.

"Of course, there are probably owls who would be happy to be free. For example, owls who are treated unfairly by their owners. This applies to our Dobby. But that's the rarer case. Hey, let me ask you, George? Are the house-elves working in the kitchens beaten, kicked, or treated cruelly?"

"Not as far as I know. As you already know, Maria."

"...I'll ask how you know that later—but anyway, Hermione. Taking away someone's work when they take pride in it and are satisfied with it, just because you feel sorry for them... wouldn't you call that arrogant?"

Hermione looked as if she had swallowed a ridiculously sized lump of lead, and slowly opened her mouth.

"So, Maria—you're saying I'm wrong too."

"No?"

Once again, the eyes of those around me gathered on me. ...I hate this, it's really not my style. Arrogant, really? Who am I to talk? I'm usually the one being reprimanded.

But passing 'her' words onto the current her surely isn't pointless. I want to believe it will lead to something meaningful.

"I think your beloved righteous rights and morals are correct. After all, we have Dobby's example. I think many people would be impressed if you advocated for a review of their wages or the system itself. Just between us... I think your campaign will eventually succeed, you know. It's just that I think your current approach is too forceful."

Because, you see, even if you make a mistake—you'll eventually arrive at the right answer. That is my best friend, Hermione Granger.

"I know it's incredibly rude of me to say this to you of all people, but well, I'm going to say it anyway. —Hermione, you could do this in a much smarter way, couldn't you?"

Hermione cast her eyes down for about three seconds, muttered "I see...", and settled back into her seat. The air of hysteria had completely vanished from her. The eyes she opened next were rational.

"A smarter way?"

"I don't know. I'm not as clever as you, after all."

"But I can do it?"

"You can."

At my declaration, the corner of Hermione's mouth twitched. Knowing well that this was her face when she was trying to hold back a smile, Harry and Ron smirked too.

"I don't think I'll ever know a witch as brilliant as you."

"Is this one of your famous prophecies?"

"As expected, the highly intelligent have a high-level sense of black humor."

We laughed together in the peaceful atmosphere brought back by Ron's teasing.

Truth be told, all these grand lectures are just words from her future self. Hermione, who will eventually become the Minister for Magic, will certainly succeed in improving the treatment of house-elves. I'm just parroting her, and to be honest, I haven't even fully grasped it myself. But for her own words not to reach her—that just wouldn't make sense, would it?

"Thank you, Maria. Thanks to you, I can see a clear vision now... Yes, anyway, persuasion. First, it's about persuasion. This is a battle of intellects..."

"Blimey, Maria. Her motivation hasn’t wilted at all."

"I didn’t intend to make it wilt. I just told her that her current method was a bit forceful and suggested she change it."

"It's a lie that Maria isn't smart..."

"I'm not. I'm just cheating. And Hermione is the real deal. That's all. See? Simple and clear."

"We don't get it at all."

Because Harry and Ron shook their heads at the exact same time, I couldn't help but burst out laughing. Hermione gave me her usual "That's unseemly" scolding. It was hard to believe these words came from the same girl who, just moments ago, was pressuring George with an intensity unbefitting a maiden. I sulked just a little bit.

Now, October 30th had begun with that whirlwind of a morning, but by the evening, when the students from the two schools were due to arrive, almost everyone was giddy. Gathered in the Entrance Hall, every student was restless—checking their appearance or observing those around them. Even the teachers were busy fussing over the students to keep up appearances.

"Unless my eyes deceive me, the Beauxbatons delegation is approaching!"

The one who raised his voice was Dumbledore. Looking up, a massive carriage pulled by flying horses was conquering the sky. No matter how many times I see it, it's a beautiful entrance.

First, Madame Maxime stepped out of the carriage and greeted Dumbledore with a gesture of friendship. Behind her stood a dozen or so Beauxbatons students. They were shivering in the cold in their flimsy, pale blue uniforms.

Next came Durmstrang. A ship pierced the surface of the lake and rose up. Leaving the Hogwarts students overwhelmed by yet another flashy entrance, Headmaster Karkaroff offered his greetings. At the sight of the young man following him, I saw Harry and Ron nudging each other in the ribs beside me. —"It's Krum!"

Once all the students had gathered in the Great Hall (Beauxbatons sat at the Ravenclaw table, and Durmstrang settled at the Slytherin table), the welcoming feast began. Dishes from various countries overflowed on the tables, drawing gasps of admiration from the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students. The Beauxbatons students, however, seemed displeased. This is just... like a clash of British and French pride. That's my future Hermione's theory, anyway.

"What's that?"

"Bouillabaisse. It's delicious."

Harry looked at my soup with interest, so I scooped some up with a spoon and brought it to his mouth. Harry took a bite, and his cheeks relaxed as he called it delicious.

"You two..."

"Allo, that is right. Ze bouillabaisse, it is delicious."

It was as if even her voice was sparkling as it rained down. Ron looked up at her and let his mouth hang open. It was the perfect beauty with Veela blood, Fleur Delacour.

"You two are close. Are you lovers?"

""No way!""

While eyeing the bouillabaisse longingly (and Ron pushed the tureen toward her like an offering—hey, I’m still eating that!), she nudged her way in beside me and smiled. Ron’s mouth fell open even wider. Ronny-boy, don't go drooling now.

"We're siblings. I'm Maria Potter, and this is... Harry Potter."

"Oh, mon Dieu! 'Arry Potter? I 'ave 'eard of you."

Fleur swept her waist-length silver-blonde hair back with a flourish, radiating beauty as she extended her hand. Harry, though flustered, shook it in return.

"But I 'ave somezing I want to ask you more zan 'Arry. Maree-ah."

"If it's hard to say, Marie is fine. That's how it's pronounced in French, right... um, Hermione?"

"That's right."

Hermione turned her head away in a huff while pinching Ron's hand, but it was impossible to hate her since she still answered dutifully, and I had to laugh.

"Oui, Marie. You—"

And the beautiful flower of the court dropped a bomb with a lovely smile.

"Are you a boy?"

Several people nearby who were drinking pumpkin juice, soup, or stew spat it out. Hermione, turning red with anger, quickly performed a Tergeo.

"You—you—! That is incredibly rude!"

"I was not asking you. I asked Marie."

"I'm angry because I know Marie won't get angry over something like this!"

"Um, thank you? Hermione?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! You're really too clueless for your own good!"

Ron and Harry tried to soothe the shrieking Hermione. The mischievous twins acted like they were calming her down but were actually egging her on, but I'll leave that to my dependable best friends.

"Fleur? Ah, is it pronounced Fle-ur?"

"Fleur is fine, it does not mattair."

"Right, well, Fleur. For the record, I am physically a girl. Does this look fake to you?"

I opened the front of my robes just a fraction and pointed to the curve of my chest. Fleur ruthlessly reached out and touched it, causing a second fountain of spit-takes to erupt all around us. Once again, Hermione was forced to cast Tergeo.

Getting your chest touched through your clothes is surprisingly not that big a deal, huh... Maybe it's thanks to my underwear. To think Hermione's strict guidance on wearing proper undergarments would come in handy here.

"Oui, it is ze real thing."

"Right?"

"But my blood told me you are a boy. Marie, you like me, no?"

"That is enough!"

The next one to explode was Ginny. She wedged herself next to Hermione, who was across from me—meaning she positioned herself right between Fleur and me across the table—and grabbed Fleur's arm forcefully.

"I can’t believe this! It’s one thing with Ron, who can’t stop ogling you, but Maria too?! Maria is my sister!"

"Ginny..."

"This isn't the time to be touched by that, Maria."

At Harry's calm observation, Ron's twin older brothers burst out laughing.

"Marie, we are ze same, we ’ave sisters! I ’ave a sister too! Gabrielle, she is very cute."

"Are you even listening to me?!"

Things were getting out of hand, so I handed the bouillabaisse to Fleur, which was probably her original goal, and urged her to return to the Ravenclaw table. Fleur gave Harry and me each a hug, and returned to the group in pale blue in high spirits. Hermione and Ginny were glaring fiercely at a reluctant-to-see-her-go Ron (who, by the way, had been perfectly positioned to accept a hug). It felt like a storm had just passed.

"—The time has come."

Once the desserts had been completely devoured and the golden plates sparkled clean, Dumbledore stood up. Ludo Bagman and Crouch Senior, who had arrived at some point, were looking at the students with completely contrasting expressions. One was smiling, the other wore a sour look.

As Dumbledore concluded his explanation, the Goblet of Fire was revealed. The blue flames flickered mysteriously.

"Tomorrow night, on Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. Those who are under age will not even be able to approach it due to the Age Line. I beg of you, do not submit your name lightly. Placing your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. Once chosen as a champion, there can be no change of heart. I ask those of you who are seventeen or older to think... very carefully."

The feast was dismissed. The students' excitement continued regardless of school or year until dinner the following evening. Hardly anyone gave a thought to the Halloween party. The moment the Goblet selected the champions' names—that would be the absolute climax of excitement and tension.

The blue flames of the Goblet turned red. A single piece of paper fluttered out.

"The champion for Durmstrang is—Viktor Krum!"

A roar of voices erupted. A storm of applause broke out. Krum, keeping his sullen expression, entered the antechamber cleared for the champions.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is—Fleur Delacour!"

I felt that the next wave of cheers consisted mostly of male voices. Fleur elegantly tossed her hair, glanced at Maria (me) for a second with a sweet smile, and followed Krum. Behind me, Ron was sighing dreamily, "She smiled at me..." Hermione was glaring at Ron with cold eyes.

"The champion for Hogwarts is—"

The tension that had stretched taut since Fleur disappeared finally snapped.

"Cedric Diggory!"

Waaaaah! The Hufflepuff students rose to their feet as one. Since Cedric was well-liked, the Weasley twins didn't even swear, and an outpouring of applause from every table celebrated Cedric. Cedric smiled and disappeared into the antechamber as the final champion. With this, everyone breathed a sigh of satisfaction, thinking tonight's major event was over. —Except for me, Draco, and him.

Whoosh—the flames, which shouldn't have changed again, flared red. A pitifully thin piece of paper danced in the air. Dumbledore stopped his closing speech and read the name in dumbfoundment.

"Harry Potter."

It was the beginning of a nightmare.