AN: Hey everyone. I'm kind of new to this, have been reading fanfiction for a few years now and just wanted to start writing myself. Please be somewhat kind in your reviews and if you do criticise please do so constructively. This was written at 1am on a Thursday night, and seeing as how I don't have a Beta there are most likely going to be mistakes, so please bear with me so that I can rectify any mistakes in my part.

Please leave a review if you can, to help me with this story and to help make it enjoyable for everyone.

'Why bother?' That was the question permeating through Harry Potter's mind as he nursed the bloody nose that his former-friends-turned-enemies had kindly gifted to him.

'Damn, didn't think Neville had it in him' he thought morosely. Neville, in a bid for a chance to not be perceived as the laughing stock of Gryffindor, had found his 'courage' to punch Harry in his face in front of the majority of the Gryffindor's in the common room. Harry winced as he nursed a particularly sore spot-Neville surprisingly had a mean right hook.

Despite the pain of being smacked in the face, Harry had also been blessed with a variety of cuts and gashes along his upper body, courtesy of the various cutting jinxes that had been sent his way from the resentful lions. Harry could however deal with this, having been subject to a very painful ordeal already in his short life.

He couldn't, however, deal with the emotional pain that came with his name being drawn out of the Goblet of Fire

"Fuck!" Harry's expletive echoed around the empty toilet he occupied, coincidently being Myrtle's. He had chosen this one for the isolation and solitude it offered away from the jealous inhabitants of Hogwarts who would no doubt be after him thanks to Myrtle's moaning and attitude. Myrtle wasn't exactly a 'people person' before her death, and her death certainly hadn't changed that. He glimpsed into the mirror above the sink that secretly held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and once more winced as he saw his reflection.

'Pathetic' was the word Ron had called him as he made his way back into the Gryffindor tower, and that was the only word that Harry felt he could use to currently describe himself. His appearance was bloodied and worn, thanks to the skirmish he had endured only a few minutes earlier. But perhaps the most significant change in Harry's appearance was the change in his eyes. No longer did the vibrant, captivating emerald hold a spark of life-only tears and shallowness.

Emptiness.

The Triwizard tournament that was being hosted at Hogwarts just seemed to spell trouble to Harry from the very beginning. A big, important, possibly life-threatening event was being hosted at his school.

'What could possibly go wrong?' he had though morbidly. And what more could go wrong?

As soon as the Goblet spewed forth a fourth piece of parchment, Harry's stomach plummeted. He just knew that for some reason his name would be etched onto that parchment that Dumbledore had caught shocked. It only got worse as the silence that had enraptured the Great Hall was broken by the voice of the headmaster.

"Harry Potter."

As Harry glanced around the hall, he was slightly overwhelmed by the animosity and hatred that was being directed his way by the vast majority of the Hogwarts population. It had shocked him so much that he had remained motionless, despite the repeated calling of his name from the headmaster. A not too kind nor subtle shove from Hermione jolted Harry out of his shock, and he slowly made his way to the antechamber that the other champions had been sent to. The heckles from the crowd gathered, his schoolmates, were painful for him to withstand, but his composure never broke. Despite the fact people he considered friends were yelling out insults to him, he carried on- even though each individual insult felt like an icy dagger slowly digging its way into his heart.

The atmosphere in the antechamber could only be described as tense, as each champion 'The rightful champions' Harry had thought, stood waiting for the judges to come and describe the rules and regulations of the tournament. What followed was a cacophony of emotions, from confusion to outright anger for certain comments made by members of those gathered towards him. It was only when Professor Moody had shed a morbid reason as to why Harry's name had come out of the Goblet did the room return to the silent tension felt when he had entered it.

"Maybe someone's hoping I die for it. Now there's a fun thought" Harry murmured cynically. "Not like I've had my fair share of shit thrown my way already in my life. Maybe I was a bad person in another life and this is the fate's way of making me atone for my past sins?"

The return to Gryffindor hadn't been a pleasant one. As soon as he stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady (who had stared at him as if he had murdered her cat) he felt the hostile attitude of those gathered.

"Cheat!"

"You've already got enough fame, give some to the rest of us you greedy bastard!"

"Fuck you Potter!"

Again, the insults hurled his way from his housemates-the people who were meant to have his back at every turn- pierced his heart. He fought to retain his composure, but his heart shattered at the look of loathing and contempt sent his way from his two best friends.

Harry had of course tried to proclaim his innocence. That he had never wanted a part in this tournament and that if he could he would let someone else compete. Ron snapped at this.

"At least tell us how to enter you glory seeking prick! Stop holding the attention of everyone just because you're famous! Could you not have put your ego aside for a bit and let someone else have the attention for a change," Ron bellowed, his face turning an interesting shade of red that Harry felt was reminiscent of his uncle's. "I'm sick of always being in your shadow! Never speak to me again Potter."

"But Ron, you know I hate the fame, you have to believe me that I didn't put my name in that Goblet. I didn't want-"

Neville-little shy Neville; the boy Harry had always stood up for and tried to always be friendly too, had heard enough. As Harry protested his innocence on deaf ears, he had risen from the couch he had previously occupied, and proceeded to punch Harry so hard that Harry had been felled from the blow.

"Piss off Potter! We all know how much you truly love the fame and the attention you get from it. Not one year can we go by without you somehow being involved in some major school-wide event. I mean, for Merlin's sake we had bloody Dementors at this school last year! Dementors! All to try and protect you! Well I'm sick of it all being about you Potter and so is everyone else here."

Neville's sudden rant had caught everyone by surprise. Everyone had been stunned by the violent outburst, but soon enough a loud resounding cheer erupted from the Gryffindor's gathered as they seemingly agreed with Neville. Harry's composure was practically non-existent. He turned his desperate eyes up to Hermione.

"Her-Hermione? Please."

Hermione stared at Harry with a look that was akin to disappointment, and turned her back on him. Harry was once more stunned into motionlessness. This time, however, he was stirred from it by a more violent approach.

He couldn't see who had cast the spell, but soon enough a volley of cutting jinxes had been sent towards him, and his body was soon engulfed in pain. Harry scrambled to his feet and sprinted out the portrait, and away from the jeers of the Gryffindors.

Having found his way to Myrtle's toilet, Harry had proceeded to examine the effects of the assault, and sighed as he realised he had a trip to the Hospital Wing ahead of him.

His mind kept replaying the events over and over in his head, and the looks of absolute hate directed his way after everyone discovered he was a champion. The only face that was slightly different that he could recall clearly was the look of shock and horror on the face of the Beauxbaton's champion when Moody had mentioned someone was probably hoping Harry died from the tournament, and the look of sympathy she had sent his way.

"It's funny, a person who had called me a 'leetle boy' only 5 minutes earlier was the only one to seem in the slightest bit sympathetic to me and a French woman at that!" he said to himself humourlessly. His so-called friends had betrayed him and abandoned him when he needed them most, all because they thought he was simply glory seeking.

'What do they know?' was the thought that invaded his mind. 'Why should we even bother giving a shit about them anymore? What have any of them done for you? They idolise you one minute and then are jealous of you the next. Why even bother with these idiots? They don't care about you- nobody does.'

The final thought hit Harry the hardest, as it felt the truest. Nobody did seem to care for him.

And for the first time in 10 years, Harry Potter cried.