By the time Draco finish applying the solution, the train had left the station, and was heading north.
Heavy rain hammered against the window, making it hard to see anything of the passing scenery.
The sky had already gone quite dark, and lamps had been lit inside the carriages, despite it being broad daylight.
Following the glow of the lamps, Hermione made her way back to her own compartment. She took a deep breath, her eyes bright, and opened the door.
Harry, Ron, and Ginny fell silent at once, turning to look at her, their faces full of curiosity.
She plumped herself down beside Ginny and asked brightly, "What were you three talking about?"
"Oh, we were talking about what Mum and Bill said on the platform, why he thought this year would be so interesting..." Ginny said, then suddenly caught a faint whiff of ointment about Hermione.
"...And whether you had been left crying on the platform, or had gone off on a date with Krum, since no one had seen you all morning," Ron teased. "Is that not right, Harry?"
"Oh, I was not worried in the least. If you had really gone missing, someone would already be pacing the corridor by now," Harry said, grinning.
"I know exactly why this year is meant to be so exciting! Draco told me all about it," Hermione said, rather smugly, ignoring their teasing, gossip-hungry looks entirely. "Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year!"
"What?" Harry asked. "What is that?"
Seeing his blank look, she quickly explained, "The Triwizard Tournament was founded some seven hundred years ago. It is a friendly contest between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.
Each school chooses one champion, who then competes in three magical tasks. It is held once every five years, with the three schools taking it in turns to host it."
"Why have we never heard of this before?" Ron asked, surprised.
"Because the death toll grew far too high, and the Tournament was discontinued for a good while. Over the centuries, there were several attempts to revive it, none successful, until this year. It all makes sense now, why Bill said he wanted to come back and watch this year." Hermione finished, her eyes bright with excitement.
"I am not sure I shall get on terribly well with the Beauxbatons lot. I met a few in the woods, and they were... rather stuck up," Ginny said, hesitant.
"I think this will be a wonderful chance for young witches and wizards from different countries to become friends," Hermione reassured her.
"Just imagine how interesting this whole year is going to be."
Harry and Ron grew tremendously excited over the news, and began speculating at once about what the tasks might involve, what prize money might be offered, and what rule-breaking opportunities such an event might create.
"Draco Malfoy told you all this, did he?" Ginny asked, in a teasing whisper. "Just the two of you together, was it?"
"Oh, Ginny, we were only talking!" Hermione insisted.
What she failed to notice was that he had, quite without her realising it, entirely dispelled her earlier low spirits.
"Of course, of course, only talking. And that ointment on the back of your hand certainly was not applied by him, was it?" Ginny said, grinning.
"Er..." Hermione shot her a guilty look, and shut her mouth firmly.
~~~
At that very moment, in a nearby compartment, the very subject of their conversation was hurriedly writing a letter.
Sirius,
Please drop everything and come back. I imagine you already know Harry's scar has begun hurting again. The timing seems far too much of a coincidence. And then there is his dream besides. I suspect there is more to all this than meets the eye...
He paused, pen in hand, gazing out at the ever-heavier rain, remembering, from his past life, Harry as the "fourth champion" of the Triwizard Tournament.
Harry had always sworn, from beginning to end, that he had never put his own name into the Goblet of Fire, but no one had believed him at the time... Draco included, back then... assuming instead that he had used some underhand trick simply to draw attention to himself.
But what if Harry had been telling the truth all along? After three years of knowing him properly, Draco had a fairly clear sense of the sort of person Harry was. If he had had the nerve to enter the Triwizard Tournament in the first place, he would surely have had the nerve to admit it too.
Which meant that whatever Harry had said, in his past life, had been true after all.
There had to be some dreadful conspiracy waiting in store for Harry.
Draco still remembered the scene, of Harry finally carrying Cedric Diggory's body back into the centre of the maze.
That scene remained vivid in his mind, even now.
He would never forget what had happened that day.
Back then, Harry had cried out that the Goblet of Fire itself had been turned into a Portkey, carrying them both to a graveyard, where the Dark Lord had killed Cedric.
Now, in his present, dreadfully weakened state, did the Dark Lord still have the strength left to cause such trouble again? Draco could not be certain. Still, he dared not let his guard down... after all, the Dark Mark had appeared at the World Cup this time too, just as it had in his past life, had it not?
There must still be some of the Dark Lord's loyal followers, escaping justice out there somewhere.
Even if the chance were slim indeed, he had to do everything within his power to prevent it... by whatever means, drawing on whatever resources he could find.
He picked his pen back up.
"...Taken together with the Dark Mark that appeared at the World Cup, and this major event Hogwarts is about to host this year, I believe Harry is now in very real danger. There is some conspiracy waiting for him, and he will need his godfather close by."
He gave an apologetic smile to the eagle owl beside him, and fed her a few choice owl treats. "Joan, you must make this journey. It is terribly important."
Joan nibbled affectionately at his hand, entirely unbothered by the torrential rain beyond the window. She flapped her wings and flew out of the warm, dry carriage of the Hogwarts Express, straight into that unbroken curtain of rain, and quickly vanished from sight.
Alone in the quiet compartment, Draco stared out at the rain, uneasy, and fell once more into deep thought.
After noon, Harry's compartment grew lively. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom came to visit them.
They fell to excitedly reminiscing about the World Cup, discussing Quidditch, and speculating about the coming Triwizard Tournament.
Hermione soon grew rather weary of it all.
She felt a small pang of regret. Perhaps she ought to have stayed in Draco's compartment a while longer, talking philosophy with him again; or perhaps she ought to have gone back over that article on house-elves, discussing with him the whole question of fair treatment, and elvish rights.
But now, she had no good excuse left to go and find him again.
Ginny watched her every move far too closely, never missing a chance to probe further into their relationship; she remained quite convinced there was more to it than friendship, pressing Hermione for every last detail of their time together, which left Hermione feeling both bashful and thoroughly uncomfortable.
So she affected an air of indifference, and carried on studying a Summoning Charm in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4... she had been particularly struck by the Summoning Charm Draco had used at the end of last year to summon his broom, and meant to master it herself as soon as she possibly could.
Her progress was not going terribly well. The small scratches from Crookshanks still itched faintly, distracting her.
Hermione knew perfectly well it was only the ointment doing its work... certainly nothing to do with any lingering effect of Draco's touch.
No, that was not it at all! she told herself firmly, though her thoughts kept drifting back to the sight of him bent low over her hand, tending it.
A strand of platinum hair had fallen across his brow as he bent his head, his expression serious, focused.
Finally, once he had finished tending to her, he had looked up at her with those pale grey eyes, a faint, satisfied smile touching his lips.
He had been smiling at her. Smiling at her, for no particular reason at all.
Who could possibly resist a smile like that? Hermione thought, quite lost in the memory.
"You may stay here as long as you like," he had said, his eyes fixed on her, holding her hand, tempting her to stay.
"All right..." she had very nearly agreed. Then, catching herself, she had said hastily, "No, I really must go back and check on Crookshanks, get him out of his basket. And tell the others about the Triwizard Tournament..."
She had tried to leave, but he had held her hand fast.
"Draco, I really must go," she had stammered, her heart pounding. "My hand..."
He had not let go, gazing at her intently, as though studying some delicate work of art, and said softly, "Do be careful. Do not go hurting yourself again, will you?"
"All right..." she had blinked, and agreed softly.
"Good girl, good girl," he had murmured, finally releasing her hand at last.
Amid a rumble of thunder, the train drew into the station, and Hermione's memories came to an end.
The students hurriedly changed into their robes and climbed down from the carriages. Out in the pouring rain, squinting against it, thoroughly bedraggled, they clambered up into the waiting horseless carriages, for the last short leg of the journey back to school.
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