There was a moment of silence before a sort of ringing echoed in Calla's ears. She was simply aware of the gazes of the Hall, swivelling between her and Harry, some furious, some confused, some shocked. Someone's hand was on her arm, holding her, and her heart beat furiously in her chest. She should have known. Something like this was bound to happen, certainly to Harry, but, to her? She felt sick to her stomach.

She couldn't compete. It required magic, strong magic, and she wasn't strong by any means of the word. "What the hell, Potter?" Lisa hissed across the table, as McGonagall swept along the High Table, leaning down to whisper something urgently in Dumbledore's ears. There was a great lump in Calla's throat, and terror coiled in her chest, cold and heavy like a rope of iron.

"I..." Was all she could fumble out. She hadn't. Harry hadn't. Who - who had done it? Her eyes swept around the hall, but everyone looked just as shocked as she did. She knew a student wouldn't have done it anyway. She glanced to the High Table, where McGonagall looked stricken, Trelawney faint, and Snape very white, his lips pressed into a thin line. Moody's one eye was wide, the other swivelling around the room, electric blue and very suspicious. Calla clasped her hands together tightly; they were shaking awfully and she couldn't control them. Her whole body shook with shock and nerves. Why, why, why.

Dumbledore rose and anxiety curled in her gut. She knew what was coming, she didn't even have to see it beforehand. "He can't..." She whispered, lips numb around the words.

"Harry and Calla Potter!" Dumbledore called. "Harry? Calla? Up here now, if you please."

Her legs were shaking too much for her to stand up. And her head was spinning, ears ringing with the sound of her name. She could see Harry stumble to his feet, Hermione pushing him onwards, and felt Daphne and Padma haul her upright. "You have to go," Padma whispered, holding her tightly.

She shook her head, trembling. "No, no. No, I can't. Padma, you - you know I can't." Her voice went shrill. "I can't compete!"

"They won't make you," Daphne said quietly, squeezing her hand. She didn't look convincing. "They can't make you, but you - you have to go."

She was sure that if her friends let her go for even a second she would simply fall apart. Her brother had already made his way along the hall and was standing before Dumbledore, white faced and shocked. He couldn't compete either, she thought, forcing herself to move even as she felt certain she was about to cry. Everyone in the hall stared at her. Her cheeks felt awfully hot, and her eyes felt like they were simply burning from terrified tears. "Go on," Padma whispered, taking her hand off. She stumbled a step, feeling at once heavy and empty as she walked between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. Everyone's eyes were on her, and when she looked over she could see Zach and Susan staring at her, seeming confused.

"Professor," she said at the end of the Hall, legs shaking. "Professor, I - I can't! I can't compete, you know I can't! I'll - I'll die, I can't! Please, plea- please, you can't make me do this!"

Her voice shook over her words. "Through the door, Calla, Harry, if you will."

"But Dumbledore!"

"Now, please."

Her voice lost its words and she followed her brother silently along the High Table towards the door into the other chamber. Hagrid sat at the end, neither smiling nor winking, looking terrified and confused, just as Calla felt. She held the end of her robe sleeves tightly, balling her hands into tight fists and biting down on her lip, certain that she would scream if she opened her mouth. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't do it.

They went through the door together, into a smaller chamber which was lined with paintings of various witches and wizards. A fire roared in the fireplace opposite.

The people in the portraits turned to stare as they entered. Some of them whispered, but it felt louder in Calla's head. It rang horribly, and she felt her stumbling down the few stairs into the chamber. Cedric, Krum, and Fleur all stood before the fire, speaking in low voices. They appeared strangely impressive, silhouetted there against the flames. They looked tall, and Calla felt tiny as she stepped into the room, looking worriedly at Harry who for once seemed to have nothing to say. And neither did she. They just stared at each other in shock, Calla still shaking as she felt tears bloom behind her eyes, well up and fall over her cheeks. She wiped them away hastily as Fleur turned to look at them, her pretty hair swaying behind her.

"What is it?" she said, frowning at them. "Do they want us back in the hall?"

Calla swallowed with great difficulty. She hadn't the words to explain what had just happened, any more than it seemed Harry did. Cedric Diggory was looking at them very strangely, seeming rather confused. There was a great sound behind them, like that of scurrying feet, and Calla whipped around tensely, only to see Ludo Bagman hurrying towards them. He took them both by the arm, dragging them forward, and Calla stumbled again, hair flying into her face. She shoved it hastily out of the way, trying to flatten it down under Fleur's scrutinising gaze.

"Extraordinary!" Ludo exclaimed, holding Calla very tightly indeed. "Absolutely extraordinary, I say! Gentlemen, lady..." He went to stand by the fireside, beaming, as he addressed the other three of them. "May I introduce Harry and Calla Potter. The fourth and fifth champions!"

"No," Calla said hoarsely, surprising herself. She shook her head furiously. "This is a mistake, Bagman, we - we didn't put our names in. We don't want to - we can't compete!"

"Eez this a joke?" Fleur demanded haughtily, putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh, no, no," said Bagman. "This is no joke. Harry and Calla's names just came out of the goblet - together!" He laughed. "How about that?"

Krum's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and Cedric glanced between them, looking politely bewildered. "But there has been some mistake," Fleur protested. "Zey cannot compete, zey are too young!"

"Well, it is amazing," Bagman said, rubbing his smooth chin and beaming down at Calla and Harry in turn, but at Harry most of all. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as a safety precaution. And as their names came out of the goblet... Well, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage... it's all down in the rules... the two of you are obliged to compete now, Harry, Calla... The two of you'll just have to do the best you can." Calla felt like she was going to be sick.

There was a great rumbling of feet again, as a second later the door was flung open and Professor Karkaroff stormed into their little chamber, followed by Madam Maxime, Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Crouch. On the other side of the wall was the sound of hundreds of students all buzzing and whispering about what had just happened, and then the door slam shut behind them, sealing them off from the hall.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur stalked over to her headmistress at once, tossing her hair furiously. "Zey are saying zat these little children are to compete also!"

Calla still felt numb, but she could see Harry's jaw tighten a moment, and felt a small prickle of frustration. No one was even listening. "We-" Calla started, but was cut off by Madam Maxime, who had drawn herself up to her full height.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" she asked in an imperious sort of voice.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff with an icy look. His smile was steely and thin, like a wire. "Three Hogwarts champions? I don't remember reading in the rules that the host school was allowed to have three champions! You might as well have the Triwizard Tournament yourself with that number! Or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He laughed coldly. "C'est impossible," said Madam Maxime, her giant hand resting atop Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot have three champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. "Otherwise, we would of course have brought along wider selections from our own schools."

"It's no one's faults but the Potters', Karkaroff," said Snape in a soft sort of voice. "They have been breaking the rules since the moment they arrived at this school."

"That is enough, Severus," said Dumbledore, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. He peered down at Calla and Harry, in a way that wasn't quite gentle, but more curious than anything else either. "Did you put your names into the goblet of fire?"

"No," said Calla immediately.

Snape made a sound of disbelief behind them and she prickled. "Did you ask an older student to put it in for you?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head.

"Ah, but of course, 'e is lying!" cried Madam Maxime. Snape shook his head, lip curling unpleasantly. A part of Calla prickled with hot anger, wanted to accuse him - Snape would love to get them into a Tournament where they could die 'by accident' especially Harry - but she knew he wouldn't really do it. Even if it was only because he wouldn't want to risk Harry actually winning. And then, she didn't really want to think he hated them that much.

"I think we can all agree that neither Potter could have crossed the Age Line," said McGonagall crisply.

"Dumbly-dorr must have made a mistake with ze line," said Madam Maxime crossly.

"It is possible, of course." Dumbledore inclined his head politely and McGonagall huffed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus, you know fine well you did not make a mistake with that Age Line. Really, what nonsense! Neither Harry nor Calla could have crossed the line themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes - as do I - that they did not ask an older student to put it in for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everyone else!"

Calla didn't miss the very angry look that he shot towards Professor Snape. A second later, before anyone could speak again, Professor Flitwick bounded into the room; the hall beyond him was quiet now. "Ah, Filius," said Dumbledore calmly. "I am glad you could join us. Are the students settled?"

"Gone back to their dormitories," Flitwick said, glancing up and around at everybody. "All quite incensed by what has just happened."

"I have no doubt," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

Calla let out a small breath as Flitwick came over to join them; he was her Head of House and, as such, would surely support her in this matter. He would know she didn't put her name in, and hopefully would understand that she couldn't be expected to compete if she didn't want to. She'd never agreed to it in the first place. "Bagman," Karkaroff was saying, "Crouch. Surely you both agree that this is most... irregular." His smile looked brittle, and Calla was sure it would break into a scowl at any moment.

Bagman wiped at his shining forehead with a handkerchief and then look around cheerfully, eyes landing on Mr Crouch. He stood still half in the shadows, the darkness making him look slightly eerie and even more severe than ever. Calla felt uncomfortable when she looked at him, standing there, looking almost cold even by the roaring fire. He spoke in his usual curt voice. "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the goblet are bound to compete in the Tournament."

"What?" Calla protested. "But-"

"Well, Barty knows the rulebook back to front," said Bagman, bouncing on his toes. He turned back to Karkaroff and Maxime cheerfully as though the matter was now closed.

"But you can't make us compete! We didn't even put our own names in!"

"I insist on re-submitting the names of my other students," Karkaroff said, now with no trace of a smile. "You will set up the goblet of fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has three champions. It is the only fair way, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman, seeming quite cheerful about it all. Calla was feeling rather sick, and warm, and it wasn't just because of the fire. She glanced at Harry, who was pale and rather numb-looking. Her stomach twisted. "The goblet of fire's already gone out. It won't reignite until the start of the next Tournament-"

"In which Durmstrang will not be competing!" Karkaroff exploded, spittle flying. "After all of our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from beside the door. Calla turned slightly, not having realised when Moody first entered. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

"But it can't be," Calla protested. She looked furtively to Harry for support. "We - we didn't put our names in, you can't make us compete. How can you have a binding magical contract that one party never even agreed to!"

"Unless one party did agree," said Snape silkily, "and is now regretting their actions."

"We didn't-"

"Convenient, Moody?" Karkaroff said, cutting her off. His eyes glinted in Moody's direction and Calla resisted to urge her foot, settling for crossing her arms and shooting Snape a furious glare. "I'm afraid I don't understand you."

Calla looked at Harry, shaking her head. I can't do this, she tried to communicate, eyes wide, and he nodded numbly, eyes flickering to Karkaroff, whose hands were balled into tight fists. "Don't you?" Moody was saying quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Harry and Calla's names in that goblet knowing they'd have to compete if they came out."

"Can someone please-"

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give Hogwarts another bite at the apple!" exclaimed Madam Maxime, again ignoring Calla. She huffed loudly.

"I quite agree, Madam Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "And rest assured, I will be submitting a formal complaint to the International Confederation of Wizards."

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's the Potters," said Moody, and Calla found herself sighing in relief. "Funny enough, Harry isn't saying a word."

"I am," Calla said as defiantly and loudly as she could, forcing everyone to look at her. "Look. we don't want to compete. We - we can't compete, and Moody's right, someone put our names in for a reason. Someone wants to see us hurt, or - or killed!" A scared lump caught in her throat. "You can't make us compete, we never wanted to and we never agreed to in the first place! You're all being ridiculous if - if you force us to!"

Fleur looked like she wanted to say something, but shook her head impatiently. No one else seemed to want to say anything for a long moment. "Now, I - I'm sure it won't come to such a thing," squeaked Flitwick. "If Miss Potter does not want to compete, and did not submit her own name, I'm sure we must find a rule that allows for such circumstance, as unexpected as they are. And Mr Potter, if he is the same, cannot be made to compete!"

"Those are the rules," Crouch said, and Calla huffed.

"You're not listening!" she cried. "Shouldn't the rules say that students have to submit their own names? We didn't, so you can't make us compete!"

"Now, Miss Potter, Barty knows the rules inside out!" said Bagman. "They will be tightened for next time, but for now, well, I see no rule stopping you competing."

"But I don't want to," Calla said. "I can't, and neither can Harry."

"Maybe that's what someone was counting on," Moody growled, his one magical eye swivelling between Bagman and Crouch and then settling horribly on Karkaroff. "Maybe someone was hoping the Potters might die for it."

There was a very uncomfortable silence after that. Calla shifted uncomfortably; hearing someone else voice the same concern as her made her feel even worse, even more tense. She wasn't the only one worried; though she wouldn't go quite so far as to say Moody looked scared. "Moody, old man!" said Mr Bagman, looking awfully anxious. "What a thing to say!"

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if her hasn't uncovered six plots to murder him by noon!" said Karkaroff, shaking his head as though in disgust. "It seems now he is teaching that same paranoia to his students!"

"Why else would someone have put our names in?" Calla cried, feeling herself almost sobbing in frustration.

"Exactly my point, Potter," said Moody. "Vigilant thinking, that. It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the Potters' names into that goblet..."

"Ah, what evidence is there of zat?" Madam Maxime asked, throwing her hands up in the air.

"They would have needed to hoodwink a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally powerful Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into thinking there was a fourth school competing in the tournament... I'm guessing that's how they did it, tricked the goblet into thinking the Potters were competing together under a fourth school, made sure they were in a category alone but with each other... Making sure both were chosen..." His magic eye settled uncomfortably on Calla, and she shivered.

"You seem to have put an awful lot of thought into this, Moody," said Karkaroff in his cold voice, "and a very ingenious theory it is. Though, of course, I recently heard you got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realising it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."

"There are those who will turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody replied in a menacing sort of voice, beady eye glinting at Karkaroff. "It was once my job to think as Dark wizards did... As you out to remember, Karkaroff…"

"Alastor!" Dumbledore said sharply. Callalooked confusedly between the three of them, and then at Harry, who looked just as confused. Karkaroff's face seemed to be burning red with fury. What exactly was Moody alluding to?

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, looking around and addressing everyone in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Harry, Calla, and Cedric will all be competing in the Tournament." Calla stared at him.

"Dumbledore, we can't! You know, I can't compete, and neither can Harry!" She looked at her brother, but he said nothing.

"I'm afraid it is so, Miss Potter," said Professor Dumbledore gravely.

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr…"

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

She said nothing though; in fact no one did, not even Snape. Calla slumped, pouting. "I want to see these rules," she said at last. "There must be something that says that champions must consent to this magical contract, otherwise what's the point!"

Bagman shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I'm sure no one could have foreseen that someone would enter a champion without their knowledge."

"I want to see the rules," Calla said again.

"Are you suggesting that I don't know my own rulebook?" Crouch asked coldly, and she pursed her lips.

"No," Calla mumbled. "I'm just saying... Check it again." She would have thought someone might have come up with the idea that champions had to agree - otherwise anyone could put their mate's name in as a laugh and end up getting them into the Tournament and killed. "It isn't fair."

"I assure you I am not mistaken," Crouch said. His voice was growing more annoyed with her by the second, and Calla could tell. She shrank back awkwardly, glancing at Harry, who still looked like he was in shock.

"The rules will be reviewed," Dumbledore said placidly, giving Calla a look which failed to encourage her, "I am sure, before the next Tournament."

"There will not be another Tournament!" Karkaroff said furiously. "Certainly not while I am Headmaster! This has been an outrage!"

"Igor, please," Dumbledore said, quite calmly. Calla felt her frustration with him rise; he couldn't just make them compete, not when they didn't want to, and never had in the first place.

Not only was no one listening to her, but she knew this was a very bad idea, and couldn't possibly end well for her; at best, she would make a complete and utter fool out of herself in front of everyone, and at worst... Well, she didn't want to think about what would happen at the worst.

Bagman alone looked excited about things. "Well, shall we crack on then?" he said, rubbing his hands together, beaming. "Got to give the champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"

Crouch seemed to startle, but he was at least a little calmer. "Yes," he said slowly. "Instructions. Yes... the first task."

He moved forwards, coming into the circle of firelight. Calla could see him better now; his pale skin, his deep eye bags, and the sort of sallowness he had to his face. He looked unwell, to be honest, she thought. "The first task is designed to test your daring," he told the five of them, looking around. "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... yes...

"The first task will take place of the twenty fourth of November, 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. 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." Well, Calla thought gloomily, at least there was something good out of all of this. She couldn't fail any exams if she died during the Tournament. Mr Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore. He was looking at Crouch with something like concern; Calla glanced at him curiously. "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 quickly. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment... I've left young Weatherby in charge... very enthusiastic... a little over-enthusiastic, if truth be told..."

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

"Oh, come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Bagman said brightly, still grinning. Did he ever stop grinning? He did it so often it was unnerving. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office."

"I think not, Ludo," said Mr Crouch tightly, sounding rather impatient. Calla wondered what exactly was so pressing at the office that he had to return to it at so late an hour.

"Professor Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, a nightcap?" Dumbledore asked, quite pleasantly.

But Madam Maxime had already started to lead Fleur away, arm around her shoulder. The two of them spoke very quickly in French as they left and went out into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned over a rather sullen looking Krum and the two of them left silently. "Harry, Calla, Cedric, I suggest the three of you all head up to bed," said Dumbledore kindly.

"You're really going to make us compete?" Calla asked him in a small voice. "But that's ridiculous!" Calla spluttered. "We can't compete, we've already told you! We don't want to, do we, Harry?" Her brother hesitated a moment and her gaze hardened. "Do you, Harry?"

"No," he said quickly. "I mean, I - I don't. I didn't put our names in but if I have to... I guess... Well, we have to, don't we?"

She stared at him, stunned. Here she was, trying to fight his corner to protect him along with her, and he threw it right back in her face.

She was sure Dumbledore must have seen how scared she was, but he just nodded gently and smiled at her. "Very well then," he said. "If that is all... I am sure you will both manage to rise to the challenges you face. Now, I'm sure your housemates are all waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be an awful shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Calla glanced at Harry, who looked to Cedric, who nodded, and the three of them left together. The Great Hall was now entirely empty, and dimly lit only be the floating pumpkins, which looked sinister now in the light, leering out at them.

"What was that about?" both Harry and Calla hissed at the same moment. Cedric looked between them awkwardly.

"I was trying to help, Harry!"

"By making it look like I wasn't up to it? Thanks, Calla."

"It's dangerous, Harry!"

"Like we've never done anything dangerous before."

"You know what I mean," she muttered. "It's unnecessarily dangerous, and, it's clearly a trap! Why else would someone put our names into a Tournament we're both too young to enter, that's caused people to die in the past?"

"I don't know!" Harry said. "But we're both competing, so."

"Well, we have to now," she muttered.

"Didn't you hear what Fleur said when we went in? She called us little children!"

"Well, we're fourteen, get over it," she snapped back. "Don't get your pride get in the way of your life, Harry. You're being stupid. And so are they, I can't believe they're making us compete!"

"Like you weren't annoyed, too, I saw your face."

"Well, at least I didn't just... agree to participate in a tournament that could kill me just to prove my point!"

"I'm not! I didn't agree! I don't want to compete! And I'm not just trying to prove a point! I didn't know what to say!"

"Yes you are, stop arguing! We could have gotten out of it if you hadn't - gotten all proud and said you'd do it!" She let out a loud groan of frustration, shaking her head. "I'll see you in the morning." She turned on Cedric, whose eyes widened. "You-" Actually, she had nothing to say to him. "Make sure he gets to Gryffindor Tower without ending up in some - some stupid, reckless... Triwizard Tournament!"

"I'm not a child, Calla!"

"Well, you're bloody childish!" she spat back, storming up the stairs.

"I'm the childish one?"

"Yes!" she shouted, and wouldn't hear anything else.

Once she had turned the corner though, she realised she had maybe been a bit ridiculous. She'd let herself get annoyed, but damn, how didn't her brother see how dangerous this was? It was clearly some plot of someone, and definitely something connected to Voldemort. She knew he was coming back, if he wasn't back already. And she was determined that even if she and Harry had to participate, or wouldn't refuse to participate, rather, then she would find out who was behind it and put an end to this nonsense before either of them got hurt; or before Voldemort got what he wanted.

When she got back to the Ravenclaw Tower, rather than deal with everyone's questions - for there were a number of students gathered in the common room - Calla went straight upstairs to her empty dorm and opened the window to call Moony in. A second later, he did, gliding in through the window in a flutter of wings. "Good boy," she said, scrabbling for parchment. She had to tell Remus straight away.

To Remus, she wrote, and then added: and Sirius,

So we know you've already heard the Triwizard Tournament is being held at Hogwarts this year. No one under seventeen is meant to enter and Dmbledore made an age line, but someone's clearly put mine and Harry's name into the goblet of fire (which is used to choose the champions) because we've just been picked! It might sound silly but I'm sure this has to be some sort of trap, because why else would someone go to all the effort to put us in (we were chosen as fourth and fifth champions too, and our names were on the same piece and chosen together, so whoever it was clearly wanted to make sure we would both be chosen). Coupled with what happened with Pettigrew and what happened at the Quidditch World Cup I'm worried about it being related to Voldemort.

Harry seems too in shock to do anything about it, and I think part of him wants to prove himself, but it's stupid because he's already done that a million times. I tried to get us out of it and try to make sure we didn't have to compete because it's so dangerous and clearly a trap but they - Dumbledore and all the teachers - wouldn't listen and then! Harry's gotten all angry with me because apparently I'm treating him like a child and he seems to think he has to prove something to everyone which is completely ridiculous. And he doesn't seem to realise that I really, really don't want to compete because I know I won't do well and I know I'll make a fool of myself and I'm really scared, Remus. I'm sure it's something to do with Voldemort, and it's not like he's going to let me get through this alive. Harry at least stands a bit of a chance, but what can I do? Anyway, I'm tired now. Please write back as soon as you can, I'm worried and it's best if you hear about all this before the Daily Prophet runs a story about it.

Lots of love,

Calla

PS: do you know anything about Igor Karkaroff? Professor Moody seemed very suspicious of him.

She'd barely gotten Moony sent out the window by the time Daphne and Padma came crashing through the doorway, grabbing her by the arms and hauling her downstairs into the Ravenclaw Common Room. "Come on, we're organised now!" Isobel cheered from the bottom of the stairs. The room was packed, which she hadn't quite realised when she'd rushed through earlier. Her stomach felt strange. "We got cake!"

"How'd you do it?" Mandy asked at once, eyes wide. "You and Harry?"

"What?" She blinked. "No, no, we - we didn't put our names in."

"Don't be stupid," Michael huffed. "We know you did. Come on, how'd you trick it? That must have been really advanced magic to get past Dumbledore's Age Line."

"We didn't," Calla said furiously. "Someone - someone else must have put our names in."

"Yeah, right," said Annabelle Turner from nearby, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Potter, just tell us. You've already gotten away with it, we just want to know how."

"But I didn't-"

"I believe you, Potter." Calla couldn't believe what she was hearing. She turned to see Lisa sitting boredly in an armchair, rolling her eyes. "First of all, Mandy's right, it's advanced magic. You wouldn't have been able to do it. Second, I saw your face. We all did, you were basically crying." She let out a short sort of laugh, and Calla didn't know how to feel about it. "You'd never have put your own name in."

Calla just stared at her, with no idea what to say. "Thanks," she said, surprised, but a moment later she was being swamped again, everyone wanting to know what spell or potion she used, if it was dark magic, how she puzzled it out, and all she wanted to do was go upstairs and sleep. Daphne and Padma both kept to her side, but didn't manage to pull her away for any substantial time.

"Have a bit cake," Padma said eventually, pulling her over to quieter corner. "What happened?" she whispered when they got a second.

"I don't know. I - apparently it's some sort of binding magical contract. We both have to compete. I tried to get us out of it, but Harry was no help, and... We have to." She shook her head, shivering.

"That's ridiculous," said Daphne, and shoved a slice of cake under Calla's stomach.

She pushed it away, a lump in her throat. "I don't think I could eat a thing right now, to be honest."

"It might make you feel a little better? Come on, find a positive here!"

"No." She groaned. "I don't think anything could." She glanced around nervously; the room was so awfully loud. "I just want to sleep to be honest." Her lip wobbled a bit, and she held herself tightly. Padma rubbed her arm gently.

"Let's sneak away then, eh? We can talk upstairs."

But they barely got a few steps before Terry, Sue and Anthony were all hurrying over to her. "Is it true?" Terry asked sharply, eyes wide and worried. "Who put your name in the goblet?"

"If I knew, I would be telling Dumbledore right now," Calla grumbled, shaking her head.

"But why?" Sue asked in a whisper. "Who'd want to put you in the Tournament? And Harry?"

"Who do you think?" Padma asked, a little brittle. She gripped Calla's wrist tight. "We're going, cover for us."

There was a moment of surprise, and then Anthony said, "So you're really having to compete?"

She nodded quietly. "That's not right," Terry said. "I mean, no offense, you're... You're brilliant, Calla, but isn't it dangerous?"

"That's what I said!" she cried. "But none of them - ugh!" She huffed. "They're all so stupid, they just wouldn't listen to me!"

"We'll help you," Terry said quickly, laying a hand on hers with an urgent expression. She stared at him, throat dry. "We must be able to do something about it, if we all put our minds to it?"

"Binding magical contract," Calla said gloomily.

"Bastard," Anthony muttered, and Sue giggled. Calla smiled weakly.

"Yeah." She shook her head. "Look, I really... I just want to sleep. Can we talk in the morning."

Terry stepped back, taking his hand off of hers, and Daphne linked their arms tightly, as the three girls headed off up to their dormitory. They didn't speak much, and Calla was glad of it. "Just so you know," Daphne said before they went to bed, "I don't think whoever put your name in there thought it through. How much have you been through? You're not losing this thing."

"I am," she said gloomily. "They're testing my daring." She sat down on the bed, and Matilda lifted her head from the pillow. "Daring. What does that even mean?"

"So you have to think quick? Like with instincts? You can be good at that? Think about Divination."

"It's so different," Calla muttered, shaking her head. "Face it, there's no way I'm coming out of this thing well. My name was put in so I could die in this thing and-" She broke off, feeling a sob choke her words. Matilda gave a meow and crept into her lap. Tears pushed themselves out of her eyes and she breathed in shakily. "I'm going to sleep."

"We'll help you, you know."

"Thanks," she said, sighing. "But I don't know if it'll do me much good at all."