Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear towards her, frowning slightly.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching hi, openmouthed.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."*

Hermione squeezed his hand and gave him a slight nod, letting him know that she believed him. Ron however stared blankly back.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again, Harry really wished he would stop doing that. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go Harry," Hermione whispered, giving him a slight push. He looked at her confusion etched on his face but she simply mouthed a 'we'll talk later' and once again pushed him up and out of his seat.

Harry set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The walk felt like miles; the top table didn't seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.

"Well…through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.

Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as he passed like everyone else. Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a room, lined with painting of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him.

The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened with started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

She regarded him with a critical eye for a moment and Harry felt his cheeks heat up a bit under her gaze but fought it back down and nodded to her a bit. This confused her, "What is it?" she asked. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

She thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry didn't exactly know how to explain the situation but he thought it would be best if he waited for the inevitable explosion that was bound to happen considering this him we were talking about, "No."

"No?" Fleur was now extremely confused. "Zen why are you here?"

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, "You'll find out in a moment," Harry sighed. Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen…lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce – incredible though it may seem – the fourth Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned slightly.

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

"Well…it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet…I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage….It's down in the rules, you're obliged…Harry will just have to do the best he – "

"Seriously?" shocked, every eye turned to Harry. "That's it? I have to compete? You're not even going to try to get me out of this?" Harry fumed. "Of course not! Why would you? This is Harry Bloody Potter we're talking about here right? If the 'Great Savior Harry Potter' is in the tournament, publicity will jump from whatever page of that trash you call the Daily Prophet to front page news. And you, Ludo Bagman, will become the man to talk to. With this tournament being, of course, in your very capable hands, you will get great publicity. You'll sell out the first interviews to the highest bidder of course to make up the massive debts you already owe!"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely behind by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis – " she pause and glance over at Harry, she quickly changed her mind on calling him a little boy, he was by no means little. Harry was considerably taller than her and built better than both Cedric and Krum and added to the fact that he was fuming, thought better than to anger him even more, "zey are saing zat he must compete also!" she said as she pointed rather rudely at Harry.

"Hey Sunshine," Harry snapped at Fleur, instantly getting her attention, "didn't they ever teach you that pointing is rude?" he asked. Fleur looking rather put out at his statement and bit back her retort before it could leave her lips. It wouldn't do to prove him right, right now.

Madame Maxime by this point had drawn herself to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled/

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"Dumbledore, the bloody name is Dumbledore," Harry fumed, seeming unable to control his anger and was now seemingly sinking his fangs into anything that moved or made noise, "you could at least have the decency to try and say it right. It's not that bloody hard of a name or at the least call him Albus for heaven's sake."

"Learn to bite your tongue boy," said Professor Karkaroff, "know who your betters are and learn to respect them. Now Dumbledore, I too would like to know what the hell is going on. Two Hogwarts Champions? I don't remember anyone 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, who enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"Unjust, the word is unjust," Harry quipped.

"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. "Otherwise, we would of course, have brought a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It is no one's fault but Potter's Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break the rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here – "

"Man it must hurt," said Harry to Snape, catching Snape by surprise at being cut off

"What are you talking about Potter?"

"Well I figure you must have at least a two foot pole up your ass to be this much of a bloody asshole," Harry shrugged causing everyone to stare at Harry slacked-jawed, "have you thought of getting it removed?"

"Detention Potter! Two months!" Snape yelled

"See there is one slight problem with that, you see I would really like to serve detention with you, really," Harry said in a mocking sincere voice, "but you see, someone stuck my name in this tournament and since those detentions would interfere with my training for it, I not only will not, but cannot, for my personal safety of course, attend those detentions and will rather be spending that time training for this stupid, pointless and rather dangerous tournament that I once again question the sanity of the idiot who thought up of reviving it. There is a reason why it was stopped; the last 5 tournaments were without winner because all the participants died. Oh yes, I did my research on the tournament, and as much as love doing stupid shite, I rather like being alive and kicking.

"So to cut to the chase, shall we? No, I did not put my name in the Goblet. No, I did not get another older student to put my name in. No, I do not want to participate and will be spending the next few days rereading the contract that binds me to this God, or Merlin I suppose for all of you, forsaken tournament. And if my word is not enough for any of you, let's take out some Veritaserum right now. I have no problem using any method to prove my innocence."

A loud bark of a laugh resonated throughout the room, "Well said there Potter, very well put," came the gruff voice of Moody said as he clunked into the room, "wouldn't have suggested Veritaserum though, nasty stuff and I personally don't trust it." He nodded to Harry before turning to the rest of the room, his magical eye looking at all of them one by one, "Potter didn't do it, nothing personal to ye Potter, but he doesn't have the power to cross that age line. Everyone here knows that Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the magical Britain and probably in the Eastern Hemisphere. That age line was perfect, Merlin himself couldn't have cast it better. Don't you all find it mighty convenient that it was Potter's name that came out of the Goblet? Furthermore as a fourth champion, rather than the Hogwarts' Champion?"

"Evidently, someone wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites of ze apple!" said Madame Maxime,

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing at her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards – "

"I don't mean to be rude but, isn't that a bit pointless? Isn't Professor Dumbledore Supreme Mugwump of the ICW?" Harry pointed out.

"Besides, it's not you who should be complaining, it's Potter," growled Moody.

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A zousand Galleons in prize money – zis chance is a chance many would die for!"

"First off, um, no. No it is not a chance I'm willing to die for. Are you deaf or stupid honey?" Fleur gasped at his insult. "Look I'm sorry but didn't I just finish saying I was not willing to risk my life for a stupid tournament?" Harry turned to Cedric, "I did, didn't I?" he asked mockingly sincere again, before turning back to Fleur, "I'm pretty sure I did. As for the honor of my school, well I'll give you that one; I would have to be an asshole to not want to bring glory to my school. As for the thousand galleons, well I'm pretty sure my trust vault has about fifty times that alone. So I might sound like some rich spoiled prat but a thousand galleons are pretty much nothing to me and certainly not enough for me to risk my life for."

"But maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl.

An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, "Moody, old man…what a thing to say!"

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six ploys to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff said loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody, "Seeing things, eh? Like I said before, it was a skilled witch or wizard who pit the boy's name in that Goblet…."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.

"Because they not only crossed Dumbledore's Age Line but hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament….I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the one in his category…."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and very ingenious theory it is – though of course, I heard you recently got it in your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing itt was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…."

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff – as you ought to remember..."

"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly. Harry wondered for a moment whom he was speaking to, but then realized "Mad-Eye" could hardly be Moody's real first name. Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction – Karkaroff's face was burning.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

"So would I," Harry mumbled.

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes . . . the first task . . ."

He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. . . very important.

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests as well as classed in order to prepare for the tasks."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barry, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore, "I believe we should allow our champions a moment with each other so that they can get a moment to get to know each other and wish each other good luck."

Everyone got the not so subtle hint and the adults left leaving Harry standing with his arms crossed staring at the other champions.

Nobody spoke and nobody moved, Harry stared at them and they all stared at him. Finally after a minute of silence sighed heavily before he spoke, "look I don't expect you to believe me," Krum grunted, Cedric merely sighed, while Fleur glared daggers at him. "Regardless I wish you all luck and will once again state that I, personally, would rather not be competing in this tournament. I was hoping for perfectly normal school year with normal teenager worries…well as close to normal for me, never exactly is normal around me now is it?" he chuckled to himself.

"I believe you," Cedric suddenly said suddenly, surprising everyone, "I may not know you all too well but I know you don't like to be the center of attention and you quite frankly strike me as the type to go out on a limb for a bit of gold."

Harry smiled to him, "thanks Cedric."

"Vell, I for one 'ope that they do not vater down the tasks to suite a boy," Krum grunted more than said to him.

"You do realize that I am bigger than you, right?" Harry said to him, raising an eyebrow. "I may not be taller than you but I'm better built than you. "

Krum merely grunted at him and turned his gaze to the fire.

Harry turned to Fleur and waited for her to say anything but she merely glared daggers at him, "What? Nothing to say now? And here I was enjoying your snide remarks and blatant insults."

"You English pig!" Fleur spat.

Harry frowned at her, "well that unoriginal, I was hoping that you would a better imagination than that…"

"You are nothing but a little boy, way out of 'is league," Fleur retorted.

Harry felt for the first time insulted by her words. Little boy?

"Little boy?" Harry said lowly, "I've got news for you honey, it's not me who's out of his league but you who's out of hers. I've seen and done shite that would give you nightmares. You ever seen troll face to face? What about a basilisk? No? What about a dementor? A werewolf? A vampire? No? Alright forget all of that. Can you cast a corporal Patronus –" he had been advancing on her while blasting her with questions and was now almost nose to nose with her.

She scoffed, "Zere is no way you can."

Harry smirked before he whipped his wand out of the holster on his wrist. He pointed it at the empty corner of the room and said, "Expecto Patronum."

From the end of his wand burst forth the brilliant stag, causing Cedric, Krum, and Fleur to shield there eyes just to look at the brilliant animal. It lasted all for a minute before Harry let it dissipate.

"Do not mock me Miss Delacour," Harry said, suddenly serious and what seemed solemnly, "I have survived much worse than this tournament and have performed magic that one can only dream of performing. But none of this is by choice, I have been forced to perform beyond everyone's expectations, to face evils many would not come out with their lives let alone uninjured. You know nothing of the pain I have lived and will live through. So do not mock me, insult me, or even think yourself to be better than me. I am not one to say that I am better than you but I hate it when people think me beneath them. It is beyond insulting to do so." with that he turned to the other champions. Cedric looked both shocked and uncomfortable and Krum's face remained emotionless, "good luck to you both and I do hope that you bring honor to your schools," he turned back to Fleur, "even you Miss Delacour."

With nothing more to say, Harry exited the room. The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality. Cedric exited right behind him.

"So," said Cedric, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"

"I s'pose," said Harry. He really couldn't think of anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be in complete disarray, as though his brain had been ransacked.

"So...tell me..." said Cedric as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. "How did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," said Harry, staring up at him. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth. And here I thought you believed me, figures you wouldn't either…"

Harry could tell Cedric still didn't believe him. "Well...see you, then."

Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right. Harry stood listening to him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, slowly, he started to climb the marble ones.

Was anyone except Ron and Hermione going to believe him, or would they all think he'd put himself in for the tournament? Yes, he'd thought about it...he'd fantasized about it...but it had been a joke, really, an idle sort of dream...he'd never really, seriously considered entering…

But someone else had considered it...someone else had wanted him in the tournament, and had made sure he was entered. Why? To give him a treat? He didn't think so, somehow...

To see him make a fool of himself? Well, they were in for a surprise if they thought he was going to make a fool of himself…

But to get him killed?

Was Moody just being his usual paranoid self? Couldn't someone have put Harry's name in the goblet as a trick, a practical joke? Did anyone really want him dead?

Harry was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone wanted him dead, someone had wanted him dead ever since he had been a year old...Lord Voldemort. But how could Voldemort have ensured that Harry's name got into the Goblet of Fire? Voldemort was supposed to be far away, in some distant country, in hiding, alone...feeble and powerless...

Yet in that dream he had had, just before he had awoken with his scar hurting, Voldemort had not been alone...he had been talking to Wormtail...plotting Harry's murder.

Harry got a shock to find himself facing the Fat Lady already. He had barely noticed where his feet were carrying him. It was also a surprise to see that she was not alone in her frame. The wizened witch who had flitted into her neighbor's painting when he had joined the champions downstairs was now sitting smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before him. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at him with the keenest interest.

"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"

"Balderdash," said Harry dully.

"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.

"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Harry into the common room.

The blast of noise that met Harry's ears when the portrait opened almost knocked him backward. Next thing he knew, he was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.

"I didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how -"

But Angelina had now swooped down upon him; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor -"

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.

"We've got food, Harry, come and have some –"

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast –"

But nobody wanted to hear that he wasn't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that he hadn't put his name in the goblet; not one single person seemed to have noticed that he wasn't at all in the mood to celebrate...Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around Harry like a cloak. Harry couldn't get away; whenever he tried to sidle over to the staircase up to the dormitories, the crowd around him closed ranks, forcing another butterbeer on him, stuffing crisps and peanuts into his hands...Everyone wanted to know how he had done it, how he had tricked Dumbledore's Age Line and managed to get his name into the goblet...

"I didn't," he said, over and over again, "I don't know how it happened."

But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as well not have answered at all.

"I'm tired!" he bellowed finally, after nearly half an hour. "No, seriously, George -I'm going to bed -"

He wanted more than anything to find Ron and Hermione, to find a bit of sanity, but neither of them seemed to be in the common room. Insisting that he needed to sleep, and almost flattening the little Creevey brothers as they attempted to waylay him at the foot of the stairs, Harry managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dormitory as fast as he could.

To his great relief, he found Ron was lying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.

"Where've you been?" Harry said.

"Oh hello," said Ron.

He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. Harry suddenly became aware that he was still wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it was knotted very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching Harry struggle to remove it.

"So," he said, when Harry had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner. "Congratulations."

"What d'you mean, congratulations?" said Harry, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a grimace.

"Well...no one else got across the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use - the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me over that line," said Harry slowly.

"Oh right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak...because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

"Listen," said Harry, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"What would they do that for?"

"I dunno," said Harry. He felt it would sound very melodramatic to say, "To kill me."

Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests or attend classes either..."

"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" said Harry, starting to feel angry.

"I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped.

"Yeah?" said Ron, and there was no trace of a grin, forced or otherwise, on his face now. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

He wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.

I would like to point out I made a light mistake. I was just looking at my calendar and realized that I was looking at the wrong year lol. I was looking at October 1994 when I should have been looking at October 1993 and so instead of October 31 being a Saturday like it should have been I placed it on a Monday…So in lieu of going back and changing it and having to rewrite my second chapter I will make the adjustments after this next chapter to 1993, it shouldn't affect the rest of the story since the only significant reference to the day of the week and date was this past chapter. Please review for me, it will be greatly appreciated.

I also have some very grave news, my dear friend and fellow FanFiction author Eric J. Dantes has been in the hospital for these past few weeks. He has a stomach infection that was much worse than the doctors thought it was. He has currently been unconscious for the last few days. I do not believe he has much time left and we are preparing for the worst. I ask that you please keep him in your prayers. I have always been a fan of his stories and I hope he pulls through but at the moment it doesn't look like it will be happening.

Thank you and please once again pray for him.