Hi everyone, I'm Hermione Granger

*In this (and only this) chapter, inserts from the canon are highlighted in italics. Harry Potter was a real wuss. Always had been. A kid, who had been pushed around and had never learned to set proper boundaries nor to express his needs. To put pressure on him was no big deal at all. Manipulation wasn’t needed: “Harry, would you do this?” Of course, Harry would. I didn’t take advantage of this, after all, I had a conscience, too. Quite the opposite, in fact, I constantly made him think for himself, stop believing everyone blindly, and take control of his own life. Oh, and of course, stop getting himself into deadly adventures. Precisely, the infamous Triwizard Tournament. Exactly like in the canon, Crouch Junior successfully slipped the hero’s name into the goblet under the influence of the Polyjuice potion. After the spectacular paper flyout and the following commotion, Harry and I went to the champions’ room together. Why together? Well, did you think I’d leave that pushover alone, who just silently endured everything without saying a word? No way in hell… The others, of course, protested, but they were against Potter himself being there anyway, so I didn’t care. I quietly kept to myself, waiting for the rest of the participants (why would I want to repeat everything to the latecomers?), but then Bagman went ahead and delivered his fiery speech: “Well… it is amazing,” said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And since his name’s come out of the goblet… I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage… These are the rules, you’re obliged… Harry will just have to do the best he-.” I laughed out loud, not even paying attention to the doors opening behind me and letting in an entire delegation. “Mr. Organizer, do you really believe in this yourself? Allow me to ask what will happen if Harry just doesn’t show up?” “But he can’t!”, “What is Miss Granger doing here?” Bagman and Snape exclaimed almost simultaneously. “Hello, Professor. Defending Harry’s interests, who is being shoved into a deadly tournament.” “Miss Granger, defending students’ interests is a teacher’s job! Minus…” Snape began spitting his venom, but was interrupted by Dumbledore. “Oh, come on, my boy! Of course, Harry needs support now,” the headmaster said, nodding approvingly at me. “What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr? ,” Madame Maxim said imperiously. “I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like icicles. “Two Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember any-one telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?” He gave a short and nasty laugh. “C’est impossible,” said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur’s shoulder. “ ’Ogwarts cannot ’ave two champions. It is most unjust.” “We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. “Other-wise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools.” “It’s no one’s fault but Potter’s, Karkaroff.” With even Snape beginning to speak, I realized that it was now definitely time to intervene. “Excuse me for interfering, Professor, Headmasters. You’re discussing whether Hogwarts can have two champions, but ask Harry first if he even wants to participate in the first place.” “Mademoiselle, we’re dealing with more important matters than your friend’s desires,” Madame Maxime snorted. “Don’t worry, my dear girl, we’ll sort everything out,” the headmaster reassured me. “Just like you sorted out the Age Line, eh, Dumbledore?” Karkaroff asked sarcastically. And the argument started anew. What’s wrong with you all?! Are you little children or what? Pull yourselves together and take the discussion seriously! My indignation at such a huge unprofessionalism, such disregard for my person, and everything happening in general reached its climax. And as always, I couldn’t hold myself back in such a state. Instead of getting into this whole mess again, I decided to use something more effective: giving Potter a nudge, I cast a Sonorus on him and ordered him to say the following phrase: “I refuse to participate in the tournament!” Harry’s sad voice echoed so loudly in that small room that it made even the windows tremble. Oops, looked like I overdid it a bit… “Hogwarts has only one true champion, and that’s Cedric Diggory,” I added in the resounding silence. The headmasters were shocked, the professor too — what unprecedented audacity — but I enjoyed it: magic does work wonders. “Harry Potter’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire, so it’s his duty,” Bagman began again, but I cut him off. His duty to whom?” “Excuse me?” “Well, you just said it’s Harry’s duty. To whom exactly? What happens if he doesn’t participate?” I clarified. “But he can’t do that!” the organizer repeated mechanically, and I wondered if he was under something. Under a spell, I mean. “My girl,” Dumbledore began, but I interrupted him too. “Headmaster, please tell me what is going to happen if Harry doesn't come? Will he be disqualified from the competition?” “Unfortunately, no. There’s no way to get disqualified from the tournament. Regrettable as it is, Harry has to go through to the end, whether he wants it or not.” “Then I demand that…” Karkaroff had started to rant again, but I focused on Dumbledore. “So what happens if he doesn't come?” “The judges will give him zero points, and he won’t be able to win,” the headmaster answered with a kind smile. It looked like he had already understood what my intention was. So why didn't he intervene himself? Adults… “How about this, Madame Maxime and Mr. Karkaroff: Harry won’t come to the tournament, get zero points and automatically lose.” That proposal was so unexpected, it even put an end to Karkaroff’s fiery speech. But not for too long. A few seconds later, they started arguing again: apparently, bickering was like a hobby for them or something. Good riddance. After having listened for a while, I grabbed Harry by the elbow, commenting that it didn't concern him anymore, since he was no longer a champion. Then I rhetorically asked if we could leave and exited the room, not really waiting for an answer. Mission accomplished, the hero was saved… I cursed at the stupid organizers, headmasters, and everyone else all along the way, but burst into tears as soon as we entered an empty place. Harry was confused at first, and then decided to hug me. Yes, people were always surprised to see that side of mine. I have the ability to obtain anything from anyone. No matter if they’re headmasters or presidents. But it costs me so much effort, so many emotions, that I always try to avoid such situations if possible. It’s easier for me to convince myself that everything is fine, that I have my emotions under control, than to stand up for something. But if I should get pushed too far and suddenly lose that control by any chance, it won't be pretty for anyone… Would I usually behave like this? Definitely not. Am I ashamed afterwards? Yes. But am I also satisfied with the result? I am. And if I didn’t slip into a blank emotional state once it’s over, it would be even better… Concerning Harry, we sorted everything out together. He had never wanted to participate in that tournament anyway, so he quickly agreed with me. Yes, he did suffer from a noticeable fleeting heroism virus, but managed to recover from it just in time. So, in the end, it really was a TRIwizard Tournament. No clue what those highly esteemed and equally dumb headmasters had decided, but Harry was sitting in the stands during the entire first trial and nobody said a word. He was called several times, they waited for five minutes in order to conform to the regulations, and then asked the judges to give the appropriate score, since the champion hadn’t showed up. Harry was happy. Not just happy, but absolutely beaming with happiness that everyone had backed off at last, and he could now finally focus on studying instead of participating in a deadly tournament with, for Merlin's sake, dragons! But there was also a side effect… His admiration and gratitude towards me had reached such a point that he completely stopped defying me. On the contrary: he willingly did everything I said. And damn, this was bad. I knew exactly how much I loved to control others and to what extent I enjoyed making them into normal people. But that also meant that I would inevitably get involved in their personal problems whether I liked it or not… But whatever, this wasn't currently happening, anyway. For now, Harry had actively started to read books, take care of his health and study for real. And he finally seemed to have realized that he really didn't owe anything to anyone, and that it was always possible to find alternative solutions for a problem. What a growth, and right before my eyes! Although, Ron didn't appreciate it very much, which became especially clear after a dialogue that took place between us when he once again demanded(!) to copy my homework. “Ron, name me at least one reason why I should constantly let you copy my work on which I have spent my (precious!) time and energy?” “Well, you’re smart!” “Thanks for the compliment. And that’s it?” “But you’ve already done it anyway! So why not just let me copy it? Is that so hard for you?” he said, slightly offended. “Not at all,” I reassured him. “But what’s in it for me? Maybe you could do something for me as well, you know.” “Hermi, I honestly have no clue. You know how hard studying is for me… and also Quidditch… and blah-blah-blah.” I decided to interrupt him before he would delve into tales about his unfortunate childhood. “Okay, I’ll let you copy.” Ron clearly perked up upon hearing this. But not for long. “However, on one condition: you’ll help me with some small tasks in return. Like carrying books to the library, going to the professors, standing in line for Hogsmeade.” I was very nervous. So nervous, my hands were trembling, but I tried to hide it as much as possible. “But Hermi…” “No? Okay, then,” I said, collected my homework and put it in my backpack. I already had trouble speaking due to my nervousness. “Here’s literature.” I pushed three enormous volumes towards him. Of course, Ron didn't have to read them all, but there was no need to tell him that. In the end, he had no other choice than to agree. To be honest, I don’t even know what to think of that. I had made him that offer myself, but to actually use it would be shameful… However, there were some bonuses as well: Ron stopped eating as if he had just discovered civilization, also yelling across the common room, and refrained from telling his extremely vulgar jokes. In my presence, at least. Who would have thought that homework was such a powerful weapon? Tell anyone, and they’d all laugh… But he became much less irritating and also stopped demanding my homework, so I convinced myself that the result was a good one… Deceiving myself, wasn't I? But it’s okay; someday, I would get over it and be able to use even people like Ron.