Can A Phoenix Love A Lion? (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

43. The Pensieve

"Now, I remember," Hagrid said. "I remember when I first met y'all. Bigges' bunch of misfits I ever set eyes on. S'ppose yeh remind me of meself a little. An' here we all are, four years later."

Ron chuckled. "We're still a bunch of misfits."

"Well," Hagrid said, "maybe, but we've all got each other. An' Harry an' Y/N, soon ter be the younges' Triwizard champions there's ever been!"

"We can't both win, Hagrid," Y/N said.

"Yeh'll still do it anyway," Hagrid said, and he laughed. "Hooray!"

They were all walking next to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and the sky had taken a bluish-purple shade. The castle's windows gleamed like yellow stars in the distance; soon, Y/N, Hermione, Harry and Ron would have to get back there for dinner.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts," Hagrid began booming, and they followed:

"Teach us something, please.
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling—"

Something moved in the trees, and Y/N stopped singing and instinctively grabbed his wand.

Hagrid frowned and said, "What's it?"

Y/N stared at the place where he had seen movement. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had seen it; Harry had his hand slipped inside his robes.

Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, in the dark, Y/N didn't recognise him . . . then he realised it was Mr Crouch.

He looked as though he had been travelling for days, when in fact they had seen him just a few hours earlier, at the end of the second task. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was grey with exhaustion. His neat hair and moustache were both in need of a wash. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr Crouch appeared to be talking to something he alone could see.

Y/N felt a huge hand grabbing his arm and pulling him around—Hagrid's.

Hagrid walked slowly toward Mr Crouch, who didn't look at him but continued to talk to a nearby tree. ". . . and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be. . . ."

"Mr Crouch?" Hagrid called.

". . . and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen . . . do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will . . ."

Then Mr Crouch staggered sideways. He would have fallen to his knees hadn't Hagrid caught him. Y/N saw that his eyes were bulging as he muttered soundlessly.

"Mr Crouch?" Hagrid said loudly. "Yer all right?"

Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head. Hagrid looked around at Y/N, Hermione, Harry and Ron, who had followed him into the trees.

"What's wrong with him?" Hagrid asked in alarm.

"No idea," Harry muttered.

"Listen, we'd better go and get someone—" Hermione began.

"Dumbledore!" Mr Crouch gasped. He reached out and seized a handful of Hagrid's beard, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Hagrid's head. "I need . . . see . . . Dumbeldore. . . ."

"If yeh get up, Mr Crouch," Hagrid said, "we can go up ter the—"

"I've done . . . stupid . . . thing . . ." Mr Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of drool slid down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must . . . tell . . . Dumbledore . . ."