Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. The next thing the Great Hall heard was the sound of a head smashing into a table with enough force to resonate throughout the large hall.

"Get up there, Harry!" Harry's best female-friend whisper yelled at him with a glare. Harry accepted that – despite not putting his name in – she was right and it would be rude to argue with her when she thought she was smarter than him. It would be rude to be smarter than someone, right? Harry thought so, and he made sure that everyone he was acquainted with did better than he did.

So with a will of sponge, Harry strode up to the double doors behind the Goblet of Fire, nodding at Headmaster Dumbledore as he went, and quietly opened the door on the right as the Great Hall erupted into frenzied yells. Harry felt very bad for causing people to be angry, though maybe if they were angry at him, then they would be happier. Therefore, he would accept his peers being mad at him.

Harry looked at the three contestants in the room, which was rather homey. Victor Krum leaning up against a wall glaring into the hearth – Harry hoped he wasn't angry, and he was just glaring from boredom – Fleur Delacour sitting in an oversized leather chair, the brown pallet fitting with the rather brown room. She looked rather constipated, her face scrunched up. The last person was a familiar face who was known as Cedric Diggory a popular Hufflepuff and the Quidditch Captain for his respective house.

The french girl was the first to hear the door click shut, and turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow, before asking a rather famous question.

"What is et? Do ze want us back out zere?" Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was launched forward when the door he was standing in front of slammed open dramatically. This had the effect of making all three official champions turn their heads toward the person striding through the door, and Harry getting no help up.

"Lady and Gentlemen, I present to you the fourth Triwizard Tournament Champion," Ludo Bagman paused looking around, "Oh. Where is Mr. Potter?" Ludo called out in a faux-announcer voice.

"Down here sir!" Harry called from behind the door as he raised himself from the floor, cracking his back along the way and earning a sympathetic flinch from Bagman as he directed his arms towards the previously fallen teenager.

"What?" Victor snarled as he glared vehemently at Harry, Fleur sharing his expression, whereas Cedric looked halfway between concern and righteous anger. Then by the law of convenience the Headmasters of all three schools came into the room, Professor Snape and Professor Moody trailing them.

"Harry, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore immediately asked as his eyes ceased twinkling. It made the man look somewhat frightening.

"No, sir." Harry answered honestly, though if the others faces were any suggestion no one believed him.

"I call foul play Dumbledore!" Yelled the Durmstrang – Krum's school – Headmaster Igor Karkaroff. He was a former Death Eater, had Harry heard correctly, which explained the hostile attitude aimed at Harry. Of course, Harry thought, he was angry for his student not getting the chance to prove himself perhaps.

"Potter's been breaking rules since he got here, don't blame the Headmaster" Professor Snape said in his ever calm tone, his trademark sneer pointed at Karkaroff rather than Harry for once. Harry thought it was rather nice of him.

Madame Maxime asked what kind of school Headmaster Dumbledore was running, and though Harry was tempted to say a fine school, he was cut of by his own Headmaster.

"I suppose it matters not Harry will simply not compete, simple." The other Headmasters looked slightly less angry than before. Then Ludo Bagman interrupted the agreements of the wizards and witch.

"According to the rulebook, whomsoever has their name chosen from the Goblet has to compete. Unless you want to lose your magic, that is." Ludo Bagman looked jovial and concerned at the same time. It was rather odd, but Harry didn't question it. That would be rude.

"Then, I do suppose that young Mr. Potter must compete. Though it will be somewhat troublesome." Headmaster Dumbledore stated, his grandfatherly tone absent and replaced with a more commanding one.

The other headmasters reacted to this. Quite violently, with much quiet yelling – and more objections to Harry being aloud to participate. Eventually they all calmed and accepted it with disgruntled faces.

With nothing else to add Dumbledore strode out of the room. Harry noted for the first time he wasn't wearing vibrant colors as he was wont to do. Professor Snape followed, his robes flapping dramatically and his scowl not lessened. Harry wondered if that was a spell, or simply practice.

Ludo Bagman hurried after the Headmaster, running like he was holding onto suspenders despite the fact he was wearing robes. Harry wasn't sure why he was running like that, considering he wasn't far behind the two that left before him. He didn't question it though.

The other Heads of the schools filed out after Ludo with their students trailing behind them. Cedric seemed to stay behind the longest, content to glare him to death. Harry felt like telling Cedric that glares couldn't actually kill anyone, but felt it would be mean to crush his dream, so instead stood from the couch and began to walk back

Harry had noticed that dinner had ended, which was fine he supposed, he didn't need the food. He had been having more dinner recently because of Hestia, which he was grateful for. He swung his average-not-scrawny arms as he walked to the Gryffindor Common Room. He knew there were two possible outcomes, either they all loved him for the time being, as they were wont to do when he brought glory to the house of red and gold. The other way it could go was them believing him 'dark' – which he still didn't understand how it was evil, just that it was for some reason – and then abandoning him.

Now that Harry thought about it, that happened at least once every year. Probably his fault, no reason to hold a grudge over it. They took him back in the end so it was fine, right? It didn't matter, so long as he fixed it in the end.

Harry kept walking, noting the bright shine on the full moon that he wouldn't have normally. He felt a pang of something for Professor Lupin, perhaps it was hope that he was doing well. Harry couldn't tell. Harry was also reminded of his step-niece, Artemis. Somewhat odd considering she was millennium older than he, but he Harry didn't mind. She seemed nice enough to him. Perhaps a bit hostile, but nothing new to him.

Seeing the Fat Lady in up ahead the corridor, Harry lightly jogged to the portrait.

"Banana Fritters" Harry spoke clearly in a somewhat flat tone.

"Welcome back, dearie." With her words said the painting flipped open to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry strolled up the steps, and upon reaching the top saw a party going on.

Not exactly a party, per-say, most of the house was there though. Fred and George walked up to him as he took in the red and golden banners strewn across the room – which Harry idly realized clashed horribly with such a bright shade of red – and the absences of Ron.

"Why dear brother of mine,"

"I do believe,"

"We are not worthy,'

"To be in the prescience such a magnificent bastard!" Fred and George saying the last one in unison, Fred being the first one to talk, George following, the Fred once more, ending with together. Harry had always been able to tell them apart, something not even their mother had figured out.

"Fred, George, what do you mean?" Harry asked the twins, despite having a fairly good idea what they were referring to. The twins didn't looked phased at all and simply looked at each other before looking back at him with comically wide grins.

"We mean,"

"Of course,"

"How you,"

"Got yourself into,"

"The Triwizard Tournament!"

This time George started the tirade of partial sentences. Once again the final part was said together, and Harry idly wondered if there was some kind of mind-reading that involved looking someone in the eyes. Nah, that would be silly.

"But I didn't enter myself into the tournament. They won't let me not participate." Harry explained, somewhat firm so there would be no doubts from the twins.

His retort made the twins blink – in unison of course – and then look at each other again.

"Harry mate that cannot be legal,"

"It's like suing Florean Fortescue's ,"

"For getting brain freeze!"

The twins had, thankfully, toned down on the twin speak when they realized that Harry probably wanted nothing to do with the tournament. Both giggled when they remembered following around their younger brother's best friend as his minions because he was hailed the Heir of Slytherin.

The conversation would have continued but...

"Hey! The man, or should I say champion, of the night is here!" Alicia Spinnet called out, drawing the attention of the entire Common Room. Soon enough, Harry was swarmed with fans.

Harry let out a large breathe as he closed the fourth years' dorm door closed. He really didn't like large crowds, they were dangerous, no means of escape. The fact all of them were focused on him helped little, he was to heavily watched to slowly make his way towards the door. After two hours he claimed he was tired and left. Thankfully no one questioned it, thinking because he was so excited he was in the tournament.

Harry wasn't very tired, but he couldn't very well use the hearth in the Common Room or sneak out as a party went on, so he resolved to play chess with Ron. Assuming he was in here, where else would he be? Come to think of it, Hermione wasn't in the Common Room either. Hermione he could understand, she was like him in someways disliking crowds being one of them.

Ron however liked crowds and being the center of attention. Ron was likely the only reason he and Hermione knew people outside of the three of them, and why Hermione wasn't glued to a bookshelf, or why he wasn't always in self-induced angst. Or the cause of a Slytherin Genocide.

Of course Hestia and by extension her family were having a similar effect on him, though their family was just so incredibly large that they didn't have to drag him into public, the people came to him. The Weasleys looked small in comparison. Something Harry was glad for, he'd decided that he wanted a big family.

When Harry saw Ron just sitting on his bed he knew something was wrong. Ron didn't just sit unless he was sleeping or listening to Hermione. For some reason his eyes glazed over whenever that happened though. He also had a concentrated look on his face which was somewhat scary.

"Hey, Ron." Harry greeted as he started to take out his sleeping clothes. He usually didn't put them on until much later, but there was no feasible way to get to a hearth, so it mattered little. He would get to Hestia's temple eventually.

"So how you'd do it?" The redheaded boy asked, ignoring Harry's greeting completely. Harry didn't know what he was talking about, the tournament maybe?

"How did I do what?" Harry prodded his best – male – friend, only to flinch back slightly at the glare he was sent for his question. Harry realized that it was an incredibly stupid question, and he likely deserved the glare. Still it hurt that his friend was so harsh.

"You know what I'm talking about you prat! How you got into the tournament!" Ron was quietly yelling which was somehow more disorienting than if he were loud. Harry didn't know why Ron looked ready to maul someone. He was idly recognized the look Crookshanks – Hermione's cat – had when looking at Peter Pettigrew.

Harry simply tilted his head. "I didn't enter myself into the tournament. Someone entered me without me knowing, until now that is." The entire sentence was flat, though it had a resolute impact on Ron, who's angry face broke into doubt, before the doubt turned to rage.

"No! Not this time! Stop being such a bloody git, and stealing all the fame!" The red-headed boy threw his hands up in the air, grabbing the curtain surrounding his bed and yanking them hard to cover him in a single pull. "Go 'way, Potter" said the 'best friend' of Harry Potter angrily.

Harry's blank expression turned into one of hurt, his lips pulling down into a frown that was seen often on his face at Hogwarts. His eyes unchanging as he mulled over the loss of his friend. Ron seemed very angry. If Ron was angry Hermione was angry, and when they were angry at him he had no friends. Who would be his friend? No one really sought him out. There were admirers and fans, but no one sought him out.

He was all alone, falling from an unwanted top because of a death game that he was going to be forced to compete in. It was going to be like Second Year, except no Hermione or Ron to back him up. The twins only made jokes that lessened it, but the more serious it became the less they did it. He was up against the Basilisk again suddenly, all alone fighting something far bigger and more dangerous than he.

But...he wasn't alone this time. He had his Fiance and her – his future – family to back him up. It made him feel odd inside. It was like a warm squishy feeling, but it wasn't bad, rather pleasant in fact. He resolved to ask Hestia about it later.

He idly wondered what was going to happen if Professor McGonagall caught wind of the party. She'd either shut it down, or grab a drink and get pissed in her office, as she once said that Harry would drive her to drink. He supposed he should warn her that was bad for her, but that seemed rude.

The time passed as Harry pulled out a book, he wasn't sure which, but it would probably be interesting enough to keep him occupied until he could travel to Hestia's.

Kronos slowly edged away from James as he shook silently. James wasn't known for his temper, but everyone had a point. James' wasn't very long, or very bad. His wife? Kronos wouldn't think about getting her mad – she would know before he did it. The woman scared him.

"How...how dare, that soulless ginger," If Kronos was drinking anything he would've spit it out, "just up and decided he wasn't my son's friend anymore!" James was glaring up a storm as he watched his son read about some stupid creatures or something. Why didn't he prank the red-headed git, prank him worse than James ever pranked Snivellus?

Of course Harry was too nice to consider pranking someone over something so little as abandoning him. Considering he had faced homicidal teachers, a snake bigger than most yachts, and hordes of souls sucking demons, it wasn't really much of a surprise. He didn't hold grudges. Well not against people hurting him at least.

"Well look at it this way, he won't ever make stupid choices because of anger." Kronos attempted to pacify James before he broke out of Tartarus to simply beat up his son's former best friend.

"He gets into enough trouble as it is, bloody Tartarus the boy's more Albus Dumbledore than Albus Dumbledore!" James yelled, which was entirely true. Harry had made a rather large effort to save literally everyone he could. Except himself, as he had the self-preservation of a suicide bomber.

"Well, at least he undeniably going to end up in Elysium if he dies." Kronos was very careful not to say 'when' because as Thanatos' Champion he may be immune to death. Of course, the real reason was because James would throttle him if he did, but it was entirely possible.

James concurred with a grunt as he envisioned a certain redhead and all the ways to maim a fourteen year old boy. James idly thought about death by breasts, before deciding that was too good a way to go out for him.

Kronos looked on exasperated as his drinking buddy lost himself in murder plots of the soon-to-be-late Ron Weasley. Kronos thought that death by tournament would've been a rather ironic end, but kept his mouth shut. No need to give Potter Senior any more ideas.

When everyone had evacuated the common room for the night, Harry sneaked back down from the boy's dorm. The red and gold colored room was dark, the hearth no longer lit, and any candles that previously littered to room extinguished. Harry very carefully stepped over the body of an unconscious sixth year student who was drooling a puddle into the carpet.

Harry idly wondered if there were going to be classes tomorrow. It was a Wednesday after all. Sadly Harry couldn't put an alarm clock next to the student's head to wake him up, technology didn't work at Hogwarts.

Ignoring the sleeping boy, Harry walked into the hearth, only to frown as he didn't immediately get transported to Hestia's temple. Fire was more of Hephaestus' thing, but Hestia did also hold a large domain over it as well. So Harry stepped out of the hearth, and used Incindeo, on the empty space of the hearth. Magic was so useful, no need to fetch logs for a fire.

Attempting again, Harry stepped through the fire, and was rewarded for his efforts by plopping into Hestia's living room. Harry much preferred traveling by hearth, rather than the Floo System, if only because he didn't seem like an idiot on exit.

Taking his first step of the night into his fiance's home, he was tackled for the umpteenth time by the small goddess whom was his bride-to-be. Patting her back as she sobbed into his chest, Harry wondered why he was so often cried on.

Make no mistake, Harry knew well what crying was, it was when someone's eyes produced saltwater – tears – from the eyes, and was the bodies' way of removing alien things from the eyes. They could also appear if the body was injured enough, so that pain was a way to produce them.

Did Harry hurt people with his presence? But that couldn't be right, humans and gods alike had been near him very often without burst into tears. Harry thought back to Dudley crying when he sat on his new toy for some holiday or another and broke it under his immense weight. At the time he thought a shard of the toy, a plastic robot or something, was lodged in his ass, but there wasn't. He was apparently crying from sadness. When Harry looked in up in a dictionary-

The Boy-With-A-Bird's-Nest-On-His-Head was pulled from his thoughts as Hestia slapped him upside the head. Hard.

"Harry, why are you so late?" Looking down and seeing the tear stained face and wet eyes of Hestia in the body of an eight year old was enough to cause Harry to wonder how he wasn't considered a demon by everyone. Clearly no one who was remotely nice could cause a person to experience something that made them cry so.

"There was a gathering in the common room. They were celebrating me becoming a champion for the Triwizard Tournament." Harry droned back in his monotonic voice. It was a flat and uninteresting voice that would lead many to believe he was an answering machine.

Hestia, while not pleased her future husband was many hours late when he had been coming at the same time every day since their meeting, had enough experience to see that Harry was not pleased by that. It made her happy that he would rather spend time with her than at a party. Though now that she thought about it he looked a little more depressed than before. This was very concerning considering over the course of their few months together Hestia had managed to make Harry genuinely smile twice. That was not to say she did not make him happy, he just wasn't capable of enjoying himself unless she specifically told him he was allowed.

Harry was happy though, as he didn't frown. The best way to say it would be, any negative or neutral emotion was translated to a frown, positive emotions were shown through him simply not frowning, and him smiling was the equivalent of jumping up and down or laughing loudly. He was currently frowning very crossly, something he rarely did in Hestia's presence.

"Harry," aforementioned mortal turned to gaze at the female, "why are you sad?" Hestia had learned long ago that the only way for Harry to understand things was to be incredibly blunt. She could also be callous, but couldn't find it in herself to be. It was both cruel, and required too much effort.

"I am friendless, as of this night." Harry was also incredibly blunt. Hestia wasn't sure if he knew how to not be completely truthful and utterly blunt with everything that came out of his mouth. Though she would have to muse about that later, currently there was a much larger question she needed to be answered.

"What do you mean exactly?" Hestia hoped that none of his friends had died. While she knew of Ron and Hermione she didn't know much of them, only that Hermione was like an older sister and obsessed with literature, and Ron was lazy like her, but rather hot headed. Not that Harry ever compared the two, Harry knew too well of the fury of a woman scorned. His aunt was a master with a frying pan.

"Ron, he no longer wishes to conspire with me," Hestia knew this was really really really bad if Harry was speaking with such a defeatist attitude, "and if my original acquaintance decides he no longer wishes to collaborate then there is no chance my later gained compatriots wanting to see me much less be near me." Harry's tone got darker and colder as he continued, his eyes now a dull and dead sheen compared to the vibrant green they were normally. Even his hair seemed to dull from the pitch black and wild to a faded black that was padded flat against his head."Why am I even talking to you, I am sorry for troubling you with my presence, miss."

Hestia called out for Harry to wait, but he payed her no mind as he walked back into the hearth, teleporting back to where he was hated and loved. Hestia ran after him, stepping into the hearth herself, but found that the hearth where Harry went was no longer lit. Hestia attempted to teleport to the unlit hearth but found herself unable to. The presence surrounding Harry was far too cold for her to even stand without a fire. He felt no happiness, no anger, no sadness, no love, no emotion. He was nothing but a corpse that moved now.

So Hestia went to sleep laying down on the couch she and Harry had more than once shared, clutching a pillow to her chest as she cried.

All of Olympus was oddly cold that night as all the hearths burnt out, and no one rekindled them.

I'm a dick. I not only failed to update for six months ( and I have no reason for that in the first place), but the chapter is only 4,000 words. The good news? Well it's the longest chapter I've ever written for fanfiction. Also, it would be longer but I know it wouldn't get done by the end of the year if I did make it 10,000 words like I was going to do. If you didn't figure it out, the Lazy Hestia you all seem to love so much (and I find myself liking it as well) is entirely based off of me. Hell, the only reason I'm such a chill dude is because I'm too lazy to troll a lot or be aggressive. That said, it's still a weak excuse and I apologize.

What I won't apologize for is me making Harry into an emotionless zombie by way of two Fair Weather Friends (or so he thinks) and forced Hestia through a game of Break the Cutie. I absolutely needed to have Harry get some character development, and bashing Ron and Hermione isn't going to earn him any points in that category. Also Dumbledore is only saved by way of me not finding any way to bash him without seeming like a rabid Dumbledore hater, which I'm not. I dislike him, but he's only human.

Also, for all those yelling at me (I'm joking, shush) that Hermione never abandoned Harry in the books, I have two things to say. 1. I've never even picked up much less read any Harry Potter books. I absolutely hate canon anyways, but still I've never read them. 2. I've only seen the first 4 movies, and the last time I saw Goblet of fire was 10 years ago. All my knowledge about Harry Potter is from fanfiction, and on that note I've read damn near 400,000 of them, so I know a fair bit.

So in this chapter Harry becomes a Champion, Ron is fed up with Harry getting all the glory and not even wanting it, Kronos is attempting to stop James from castrating Ron, Hestia and Harry have their first major 'fight', Harry is left emotionless, and Hestia is left a sobbing wreck. I think this is best attempt at humor yet, said the author with obvious sarcasm.

I'll see you all again when I update in six months! (That was joke, if you were unaware, I'll try to update soon.)