"My Lord," said Bagman as he swept into a low bow. "When you tasked me with hosting our entertainment this evening, you honored me." He turned to the hall. "And the night has only begun, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you! After dinner, we have a surprise waiting for you on the Quidditch Pitch."

The crowd tittered, and Ludo nodded, his forehead shining with sweat. "But first, the Dark Lord has asked me to oversee something special this evening. Something that aligns with the spirit of our celebrations. A story! One that will live in our traditions for years to come: the Dark Lord's Triumph over the Boy Wizard!"

Ludo threw out his hand, and the doors to the Great Hall flew open. Two guards entered, dragging a small person behind them. Their boots marched in perfect unison as the room rippled with murmurs. Hermione craned her neck, but she was only able to make out the person when he was tugged to the front of the room.

A boy, no older than fourteen, wearing a Gryffindor uniform. He had jet black hair and a wiry frame.

Black spots appeared in her vision.

The guards shoved the boy to Bagman's feet. His eyes flitted wildly about the room, his breath quick and frenzied. He looked at the people around him like he'd never seen anything like them before.

Hermione tried to swallow, but her throat wouldn't close. He was a Muggle.

"There was once a young boy who thought he could challenge the Dark Lord Voldemort. His name"—Bagman produced a pair of round glasses from his pocket—"was Harry Potter." He shoved the glasses on the Muggle boy's nose, and Hermione could see from here that one lens was splintered. Harry's glasses.

The crowd screamed as Hermione turned back to her dinner plate, dragging lungfuls of air. Bellatrix cackled, clapping her hands. A slow smile spread up Voldemort's pale face.

"This boy—" Bagman's voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. "Thought he was untouchable!"

A chorus of jeers and boos. Hermione forced herself to turn and watch. The boy had been Leg-Locked, his face was red and mouth open as Bagman circled him. He'd been Silenced.

"He was arrogant and foolish. But above all, he was dangerous." Bagman dabbed his brow with a handkerchief. "He encouraged the mixing of magical blood. He befriended blood-traitors and Muggleborns."

At this, Bagman swiveled toward the High Table and gestured to Hermione. The guests hissed as they turned their eyes on her.

Draco crossed his legs and shifted his chair, partially blocking her from Ludo's view.

"He hid behind the skirts of witches and wizards far more powerful than himself. In his futile resistance, he caused an unspeakable loss of magical blood."

A fork clattered across from her.

"And so," Bagman continued, "on a May morning one year ago, the Dark Lord challenged this cowardly, dangerous boy to a duel."

The Muggle boy fell over, struggling against his Leg-Locker Curse. The crowd roared with laughter.