Chapter Seventy - The Goblet of Fire
Harry woke early on Halloween morning. He was out of bed long before Blaise began to stir. After trying unsuccessfully to wake his friend from his beauty sleep, he dressed hastily in the still darkened room and made his way downstairs.
He thought of Millie, but she hadn't come down from her dorm. Harry knew from experience that boys were not allowed in the girls' dormitories. If he tried to run up and fetch her, the stairs would likely transform into a slide, and he would be sent falling back into the common room.
His friends may have been relaxed enough to sleep in, but Harry was not the only student too excited for rest. Warrington, Derrick, and Bole had all gotten an early start, and were gathered near the entrance to the common room when Harry made his appearance. Spotting him, the upperclassmen beckoned Harry to join their group.
"Are you going to put your names in the Goblet of Fire?" Harry asked immediately.
Warrington smiled and said, "We were just about to leave. Want to come watch?"
It was all the invitation Harry needed. He followed the upperclassmen to the entrance hall, where the Goblet of Fire was waiting. It had been placed in the center of a perfect golden circle and was sitting atop the wooden stool that was usually reserved for the Sorting Hat. A few other students were loitering nearby, curious to see who would put their names into the Goblet.
Warrington led Bole and Derrick forward, putting his name into the blue-white flames first. Harry stood back while they completed this ritual one by one, careful not to cross the Age Line Dumbledore had drawn around the stool. He watched, fascinated, as the bits of parchment caught fire, flared bright white for a moment, then vanished entirely.
Warrington and his friends invited Harry to breakfast with them once their errand was complete, but Harry politely declined. He wanted to stay and watch the others. Taking a seat on one of the benches lining the hall, Harry waited to see who else would arrive to enter their name.
He did not have to wait long. Soon after Warrington and the others had made their entries, the students of Durmstrang arrived. Karkaroff was not with them, though it seemed the entire student delegation had turned out to submit their names together. Harry caught the eye of Vikor Krum and flashed him a thumbs up, calling "Good luck!" as he cast his bit of parchment into the flames.
Krum returned his smile, a rare sight, and to Harry's surprise he came and joined him on the bench.
"Thank you for your support," he said in his thick Bulgarian accent, "But I must tell you, I did not vant to compete."
Harry, both astonished and honored that Krum would share this confidence with him, felt compelled to ask, "Then why'd you do it?"
Krum shrugged, "Karkaroff insisted. He thinks zat because I am a Seeker, zat I vill do vell in the contest. But I had finished vith the World Cup, and I vas looking forward to a break before next season."
They were silent for a moment, each contemplating the flickering flames of the Goblet. It was a comfortable silence. Harry found he enjoyed Krum's company, even if, for the second time, he neglected to bring a quill to request an autograph.
"I didn't see Karkaroff when you came in," he said after some thought, "Didn't he want to be here?"
The scowl that Krum usually wore returned to his face as he replied, "No, he vas not well last night after dinner. He vould not come out of his cabin today. He told us to go on vithout him."
Harry recalled Karkaroff's look when he recognized him the night before, and the confrontation with Moody that followed. He wondered if Karkaroff was really ill, or if his complaint had something to do with the ex-Auror.
He wanted to ask Krum about his school and the headmaster some more, but at that moment Poliakoff, the last of the Durmstrang students, finished putting his name in the Goblet. He called for Krum to join them as the rest of his classmates made their way toward the Great Hall. Harry spotted Blaise and Millie making their way up from the dungeons at the same time, and he waved goodbye to Krum as he went to join his own friends.
"You had him all to yourself!" Blaise complained half-jokingly as he watched Krum walk away, "Did you get an autograph?"
"No, I didn't think about bringing parchment. Warrington and the others have already entered. Krum and the rest of Durmstrang, too."
"Beauxbatons show up yet?"
"Not that I've seen. But it's still early."
An explosion of laughter sounded behind him, and Harry turned his head to see three Gryffindors running down the stairs into the hall. He recognized the Weasley twins instantly by their red hair. The third, Lee Jordan, was a friend of theirs, known only to Harry because he frequently acted as commentator during Quidditch matches. The students who had gathered around the Goblet broke into spontaneous applause. Harry watched as the twins and their friend bowed graciously and waved to their adoring public.
He then spied Hermione and Neville. They followed closely behind the trio of Gryffindors, but it was clear they did not belong to their group. Harry saw Hermione roll her eyes dramatically before she too noticed Harry. Taking Neville by the arm, she directed their steps to join the Slytherins.
"What's that about?" Harry asked by way of greeting, nodding his head toward the Weasleys and Jordan.
Hermione couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes a second time, "They've been brewing an aging potion. They think it will get them past the Age Line."
"Will that work?" Blaise asked with interest. He was looking over Hermione's shoulder to watch Fred and George Weasley as they both walked right to the edge of the golden line.
"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed, "I tried telling them that Dumbledore wasn't stupid enough to be tricked by something like an aging potion. But they argued that their birthday is only a few months away. They seem to think that since they're nearly of age, that a few drops of potion will be enough."
"I dunno, Hermione," Neville said. Like Blaise, he had turned to watch the twins as they both plunged over the line. "Seems to be working alright."
Hermione whipped around to see for herself, aghast that the twins had accomplished what she had determined to be impossible. Harry also looked on with interest. For a moment, the twins exalted in their triumph. But before either of them could lift the bits of parchment on which their names were scrawled, there was a loud sizzling sound, and they were both hurled outside of the circle as if they had been jerked back by an invisible string. They landed hard on the stone ground a full ten feet away from the Goblet. To add insult to injury, matching white beards sprouted from their faces with a quaint "pop!"
They didn't mourn their failure for long. As the crowd of onlookers burst into laughter, the Weasley twins couldn't help but laugh as well.
Hermione turned to Neville with a smug smile and said, "See? What did I tell you?"
"Do you know of anyone in Gryffindor who's entering?" Harry asked, "I mean anyone who is actually of age?"
Hermione gave it some consideration before replying, "Well, there's Angelina Johnson. She had her birthday last week. I heard her telling Katie Bell she was thinking of entering."
Harry recognized these names from the Quidditch pitch, though he knew nothing about Johnson personally.
The trio breakfasted with Hermione and Neville at the Slytherin table, spending most of the time gossiping about other rumoured entries for the competition. While the subject was entertaining enough to keep them engaged throughout the meal, Hermione was soon recommending a trip to the library to catch up on their assignments. Harry didn't want to hurt her feelings, but he didn't think he could focus on his homework that day. He tried to convince her to take a break, but she was resolute.
"We've got our O.W.L.s to prepare for!" she reminded him sternly, "Just because there's a silly tournament happening this year doesn't mean that's an excuse to slack off!"
Harry was just as determined not to study that day, and with an invented excuse that he had already promised to visit Hagrid, Harry bid his two Gryffidor friends goodbye.
As they neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they discovered that the Beauxbatons brigade, like Durmstrang, had taken up residence in their method of transport. Their palatial carriage was parked not far from the gamekeeper's hut, and the paddock that once contained Hagrid's bolt of Hippogriffs had been repurposed for the winged horses. Of course, the horses were so large they might have easily stepped over the boundary of their enclosure. Harry wondered what Hagrid had done to keep them in line as they knocked on his front door.
When Hagrid answered, they were shocked by some rather alarming changes he had made to his appearance. He was dressed in a furry suit jacket and was wearing an awful yellow and orange checkered tie. Harry observed with mingled pity and amusement that he had apparently tried to comb his hair, which was more wild than Harry's own. The result was two bunches of oddly oiled hair which didn't suit his appearance at all. He had succeeded, however, in getting several pieces of broken comb lodged among his locks.
To spare his friend's feelings, Harry might have overlooked these changes, but Blaise was less forgiving. He took one look at the gamekeeper and exclaimed in horror, "Hagrid! What have you done to your hair?"
Hagrid looked uncomfortable as he waved the three of them inside, "Never you mind how I look! Thought it was time fer a change, is all. Excited abou' the tournament?"
He clearly wanted to change the subject. Harry, willing to oblige him, agreed that they were excited. He informed Hagrid that they had been watching the Goblet all morning, and listed a few of the students they had seen enter their names.
Hagrid nodded his head appreciatively and said, "Should be interestin! It's a shame youngins like yerselves can't compete, but it'll be interestin' ter watch all the same, why the firs' task alone…"
Hagrid was now forced to interrupt himself. Most of his face was covered by his bushy beard, but Harry could tell he was embarrassed. Hagrid was a terrible liar, and Harry knew instantly that he had almost given something away.
"You know what the first task is, don't you?" Harry asked, leaning forward eagerly in his chair.
"No," Hagrid said, his response too quick to be convincing.
"You do!" Harry insisted.
"Well, I might know sumthin', mind. Bagman and Crouch might've asked me… Well, that is Dumbledore told 'em that I'm good with all kinds of beasts…"
"The champions will have to fight a beast for the first task?" Harry pressed, "Brilliant! What kind?"
But Hagrid refused to say more. He was already furious with himself for having given so much away, and he charged the three of them to say nothing to the champions, whoever they might turn out to be.
They spent the rest of the afternoon with Hagrid, chatting about the growth of his Skrewts and discussing who they would like to see represent Hogwarts in the tournament. They all agreed it would be best to see a Slytherin champion, though Harry favored Warrington, while Blaise and Millie preferred either Derrick or Bole. Hagrid reiterated with a sigh that it was a shame none of them could compete in the tournament, but he proved resilient to Harry's renewed efforts to glean a hint of what the first task would be.
"I don't want ter spoil it!" he insisted. Then, glancing out the window and seeing the sun was starting to set, he added, "We'd better get a move on! It'll be startin' soon."
They were perfectly willing to leave at a moment's notice, but Hagrid was not yet satisfied with his appearance. Before leaving his cabin, he walked over to a cabinet in the corner. Harry had the distinct impression that he had doused something over his beard, and when he turned around it was clear he had administered some horrible cologne.
The smell was rank. Harry and his friends loudly complained, and Hagrid, embarrassed, quickly went outside and dunked his head in a barrel of water to get rid of the odor.
"What has gotten into him?" Harry asked, staring at Hagrid through the open door of the cabin.
Blaise started to shake his head, but at that moment Millie pointed outside and said, "I think I get it now."
Madame Maxime had just exited the carriage with her students in tow. Hagrid had dried himself as best he could, and was now talking with the headmistress, his face animated and his gestures grand.
"Love is in the air!" Blaise exclaimed cheerfully, taking enormous delight in Hagrid's crush.
"That may be, but he's leaving us behind," Millie observed.
It was true. Madame Maxime was leading her students toward the castle, and Hagrid had graciously offered her his arm. The students were having a difficult time, jogging to keep up with Hagrid and Maxime's long strides. Harry and his friends had to sprint to catch up with them.
"Look who it is!" Blaise panted as they finally caught up with the front of the Beauxbatons line. He was looking at the girl in the blue headscarf he had noticed the night before. She glanced his way, and with a grin Blaise said in broken French, "Croyez-vous au coup de foudre? Ou devrais-je passer à nouveau?"
To Harry's untrained ear, his accent was atrocious. The student seemed to understand him in spite of that, because she scoffed and turned her nose up at him. Blaise did not appear discouraged however, as a small smile had graced her lips. She continued to toss glances at him over her shoulder as she preceded them into the castle.
Before Harry had time to ask Blaise what he said, or where he had picked up the phrase, he was distracted by the sight of the Durmstrang students. Krum was walking at the front of the pack, though Harry hesitated to call out to him. Karkaroff must have recovered from his indisposition, because he was walking grimly at Krum's side. Harry wanted to avoid another awkward scene with the Durmstrang headmaster, so he waited until they had taken seats in the Great Hall before he flashed Krum another thumbs up.
Unfortunately, he was not seated close enough to the Seeker for conversation. He found himself seated across from Warrington and the two Beaters instead. Harry wished them all luck in the upcoming selection, though he privately nursed the hope that of the three, Warrington would be victorious.
"Let's hear your prediction, Perry, since you're so good at it," Warrington said teasingly to Derrick.
Derrick nodded his head sagely and replied, "We'll have a Slytherin Champion. Without a doubt."
"That's it? You can't be more specific?"
"Divination is an art, not a science."
The Halloween feast seemed to take longer than usual. Perhaps it was because it was their second feast in two days, Harry didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as he would have normally. It seemed that Harry was not alone in his impatience. All around the Hall he could see faces turned to the staff table, eager to see if Dumbledore was about to stand.
Finally, the golden plates were cleared and the noise in the Hall died almost instantly as Dumbledore rose to his feet. The time for selecting the champions had arrived.
The Goblet had been moved from the entrance hall and was placed before Dumbledore. Harry watched as the headmaster drew his wand and moved it through the air in a slow, sweeping gesture. The floating candles in the Great Hall were extinguished, and the flames of the Goblet cast the room in a strange, blue light.
"We will soon learn the names of our three champtions." he announced, "If your name is called, please come to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and proceed into the next chamber."
He gestured to a door located off the side of the table, near Hagrid's place at the end. Dumbledore was never one for making grand speeches and denying students a pleasure longer than necessary. He said nothing more before turning to the Goblet and staring into its brilliant flames. Before long, the color of those flames turned from blue to red. Sparks began to spit from the chalice, then a tongue of flame shot into the air and a slightly charred bit of parchment fluttered into Dumbledore's outstretched hand.
"The champion of Durmstrang," Dumbledore said, reading the small scrap of paper, "Is Viktor Krum!"
Harry joined the rest of Slytherin and Dumstrang in their thunderous applause. The other houses were no less enthusiastic in their response. Viktor had many fans.
Harry was glad that Viktor had been the one chosen, but he checked his applause until he could observe how Viktor reacted. Harry had not forgotten the comments he had made earlier that day, but it was difficult to gauge Viktor's response to the announcement. He merely nodded to a couple of his classmates, stood, and stalked off to the door behind the staff table, his face in his customary frown.
The door had barely closed on him when once more the Goblet's flames were changing color, and a second piece of paper shot forth. Dubmeldore caught this one as he had the first, and pulling apart the delicate paper, he read, "The champion of Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
Harry clapped politely as the pretty blonde who had so transfixed Ron Weasley the night before rose from her seat and made her way gracefully toward the staff table. Unlike Krum, her emotions at the announcement were more easily read. She beamed in pleasure as she waved to a few of her classmates. Her selection seemed less popular among the students of her own school, who dissolved into tears at having not been chosen themselves.
At last, the Goblet flared a third time, and everyone watched Dumbledore with bated breath, waiting to see who the third and final champion would be.
"The Hogwarts champion... is Cedric Diggory!"
The moans of disappointment coming from the Slytherin table were drowned out by the much louder cheers from the rest of the school. Cedric was popular among the other three houses, but among the Hufflepuffs especially he was a hero. Harry was only mildly disappointed. True, he had set his hopes on Warrington, but he decided having Cedric represent their school was the next best thing.
"Congratulations to our three champions," Dumbledore said once the cheers had settled and Cedric was safely installed in the staff room with the others, "I hope you will all join me in encouraging your fellow students as…"
Whatever short speech he had planned was abruptly cut off as the Goblet once again flared and began spitting red sparks. Dumbledore turned toward it, a look of confusion and worry crossing his face. To everyone's surprise, a fourth piece of parchment was expelled from the flames. Dumbledore seemed to catch it out of reflex before staring at it in silence.
The Hall had gone very quiet. Everyone was waiting to see what the parchment said. It must be another name, but the three champions were already chosen. No one understood what this meant, but something had clearly gone wrong.
"That'll be your name," Blaise said in a teasing whisper.
Harry almost laughed, but checked himself in time.
"Yeah right," he whispered back, "Can you even imagine…?"
"Harry Potter," Dumbledore read aloud.
Harry was certain he had misheard him. But then he said it again.
"Harry Potter!"
There was a moment of stunned silence, then the whispers began. Harry remained in his seat, dumbfounded, as all across the hall students had turned their heads toward the Slytherin table, searching for him. Harry looked between Millie and Blaise.
"Did I hear that right?" he asked, "Blaise… Is this some kind of joke?"
For once, Blaise was speechless. He could only shake his head, his eyes wide with shock.
At the staff table, Snape had risen from his seat. He walked to Dumbledore's side and was whispering very quickly into his ear. The headmaster nodded in response to whatever Snape had said, and once again repeated Harry's name, this time in a louder voice than he'd used before.
Millie nudged Harry's side, urging him to get up. Harry considered his options. He didn't understand what was going on, but whatever this was, he wanted no part of it.
"Harry, you have to go!" Millie urged.
"No," said Harry, "No, I don't think I will."
Harry's stubborn refusal to stand only prompted Snape to come and fetch him. Sweeping down the length of the table, Snape grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes and dragged him from his seat. He proceeded to half-walk, half-shove Harry before the entire school and guests, past Hagrid at the staff table, who was shaking his head in denial, and through the door to the waiting champions.
He shoved Harry roughly into the room and hissed, "How did you do it?"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry hissed back.
"Liar!" Snape declared, then he slammed the door in Harry's face.
Harry was still in a state of shock. He didn't know what was happening, but he was determined that it was not happening to him. He tried the door, but Snape must have locked it behind him. Harry might have pulled his wand to unlock it, but he reconsidered. He couldn't just waltz back through the Great Hall, past all the teachers and students, without being noticed. He would have to find another way back to his dormitory. He would pack his bags and return to Grimmauld Place immediately. Perhaps Sirius would let him transfer to another school. Not Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, certainly, but a foreign school where nobody knew him. Perhaps a school in America?
While he weighed his options, he turned further into the room. It was not the corridor he had expected, but a smaller room lined with portraits of witches and wizards. The three champions were gathered by a large, handsome fireplace, where a welcoming fire burned brightly. Or perhaps it would have seemed welcoming, if it hadn't silhouetted their tall, imposing figures in such an intimidating way.
They had already turned to face Harry, disturbed by his sudden entrance. Only Cedric looked pleased to see him. Viktor's default expression was a scowl, and it only deepened when he was confused. Meanwhile, Fleur Delacour gazed at him impassively, as if Harry didn't merit her notice.
"Hi, Harry!" Cedric said in the familiar tone he had adopted during their shared class, "What's going on? Do they want us to return to the Hall?"
Harry didn't know what to say. Fortunately, he was spared the necessity of explaining what had just happened in the Great Hall when the door behind him swung open again. Ludo Bagman appeared, beaming from ear to ear.
"Ah! I see you're already getting to know one another. Good, I'm glad. You all know Harry, of course? Harry Potter?"
Fleur looked at him again, this time with surprise.
Bagman continued, "Well, you'll all have plenty of time to get acquainted! Potter here will be competing, incredible as it may seem, as the fourth Triwizard Champion!"
Harry opened his mouth to object, but Bagman had not arrived alone. He was closely followed by the three school headmasters, Mr. Crouch, and a few select faculty members, including Snape. They all had something to say. Madame Maxime was the loudest objector to Harry's participation in the competition.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said, her voice booming over the chattering of the others. "Two 'Ogwarts champions? C'est impossible! It is most unjust!"
Karkaroff was also scowling, "I was under the impression that your Age Line would keep the younger students out of this contest, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore, in contrast to the others, had been very quiet the entire time. He seemed to be observing his fellow headmasters with interest, as if he found in them an amusing new puzzle, and he was excited to see what the image would be when it was complete. But when his Age Line was called into question, he stepped forward at last, unable to avoid addressing these inquiries.
Calmly, he turned to Harry and asked, "Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"
"No," Harry replied. It was a relief to be able to say so.
"Did you ask someone else to put your name in for you? An older student, perhaps?"
"No," Harry repeated.
Behind Dumbldore, Snape uttered an audible scoff. Dumbledore ignored him, but the other headmasters were more vocal in their objections. They did not want him to compete. He didn't blame them, as it gave Hogwarts an unfair advantage, and he couldn't imagine the trouble it would be giving Bagman and Crouch, who would have to rework the entire tournament around a fourth member.
It was in the midst of their continued bickering that Professor Moody pushed his way forward.
"There's no way Potter could have entered the competition himself!" he stated in a tone that did not invite argument, "Only a strong confundus charm could have hoodwinked the Goblet. It's beyond the skill of a fourth year!"
Harry felt himself warming to the professor, and hoped that the others would listen to reason. But then Professor McGonagall said in an undertone, "Potter has accomplished much more since he started at Hogwarts. He performed advanced magic in his first year alone…"
Harry knew she was referring to the beasts and enchantments that had guarded the Philosopher's Stone. Harry, along with Blaise and Millie, had gone past each of the challenges laid by the school's head teachers in an attempt to steal the stone before Snape. They had been horribly mistaken, of course, and it resulted in Harry's first encounter with Lord Voldemort, excepting the time he'd escaped murder as a baby.
McGonagall's reminder of this unfortunate episode in Harry's life had been directed at Dumbledore, who was considering Harry through his half-moon spectacles.
"Regardless of how he managed it, the rules are clear!" said a stern voice from the back of the room. They turned to Mr. Crouch, who had finally managed to make himself heard in the silence that followed McGonagall's statement. "The Goblet represents a binding magical contract. The boy must compete!"
"Can I say something?" Harry boldly interjected. They all turned - teachers, champions, and ministers alike. Harry, nervous but determined, announced, "I have no intention of competing. This is all some mistake."
A heavy silence followed. Then, slowly, they turned their faces away from him and looked at Mr. Crouch again.
"As I have just stated," Crouch intoned obtusely, "The Goblet of Fire represents a magical contract. If the boy does not compete, there will be serious consequences…"
It was the second time Crouch had referred to him as "the boy" and not by his name. Harry's annoyance gave him courage to say, 'Well, I never signed any contract. I didn't put my name in that goblet, so whoever is doing this can worry about the consequences, not me."
From the sleeve of his robes, Dumbledore withdrew a small bit of parchment. It was slightly burnt at the edges. He gestured for Harry to hold out his hand, and he obeyed. Harry already knew what it was. It was the parchment that had come out of the Goblet the fourth time. He looked down at it and felt his blood run cold. It was his own handwriting.
"That's not possible," Harry said, but his voice was hollow. This couldn't be a mere forgery. It was his own signature, he was sure.
"Well then, it's all settled!" Bagman said with inappropriate cheerfulness as he rubbed his hands together, "If there are no more objections, we still have instructions to give to our champions! All four of them!
Maxime and Karkaroff looked as if they certainly had more objections, but they were silenced by the blank, impassive look on Crouch's face as he stepped forward to address their champions.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he said. The light from the fire cast dark shadows under his eyes and made his wrinkles look even sharper than usual, "We will not tell you what to expect. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality to any wizard. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth. You will be observed by the other students and the panel of judges. You are not permitted to ask for help or accept help from any of your teachers. That is all."
He turned away from them then, and Harry noticed a look of mild concern on Dumbledore's face that seemed unconnected to the events that had just transpired. Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room, their faces turned toward one another as they spoke in rapid French. Karkaroff merely gestured to Vikor, who cast one last look at Harry before following him mutely through the doorway.
Harry thought he might have a moment to talk to Cedric, at least, but Snape had grabbed him by the collar a second time and began to direct him to the Slytherin common room at a quick pace.
"I can walk on my own!" Harry protested, finally wriggling free of Snape's vice-like grip when they were mere feet from the hidden common room entrance.
"I don't know how you did it, Potter, but it seems you've got what you wanted at last. All the attention, the notoriety… Will that finally satisfy your ego?"
"I already told you I didn't do it!"
But Snape was far more angry than Harry had ever seen him before. He shoved Harry toward the common room entrance, adding, "Just know that I won't save you this time!" before abandoning Harry in the hall.
The shock was finally starting to ebb by this time. It was broken by a momentary flash of anger toward Snape, but his fury vanished in the next moment as the full weight of what had just happened came crashing down on him. He felt suddenly dizzy and a little nauseous. Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, he spoke the password, and was admitted to the common room.
He was welcomed by a wave of applause. Slytherin House was delighted to be represented in the Triwizard Tournament. Harry's entry seemed to them a great triumph already.
"Well done, Harry!" Cassius Warrington said, clapping him on the back, "I didn't know you had it in you! This is showing some Slytherin ambition!"
Harry ignored the praise and searched over the heads of the crowd for Blaise and Millie, but he couldn't find them anywhere. Shaking off Colin Creevy, who was excitedly asking Harry how he managed to sneak his name into the Goblet, Harry managed to slip through the celebration and up the stairs to his dormitory.
He found them there, sitting on Blaise's bed in deep conversation. They jumped up as soon as Harry entered the room, their expressions anxious as they rushed toward him.
"Harry! What happened? Are you alright? Have they expelled you?"
Harry stared into the faces of his worried friends, and a disturbing thought occurred to him. He looked at Blaise and asked, "Did you put my name in the Goblet of Fire?"
Blaise took a step back from him. A look of shock was quickly followed by one of pain as he replied, "You think that I…? What?"
"You knew my name was on that paper before Dumbledore read it aloud," Harry said, "It was my signature. You could have torn it off one of my letters."
"Harry, stop," Millie said, "You're not thinking clearly."
But Harry ignored her warning and continued, "Moody said only a powerful confundus charm could have tricked the Goblet. You've always been the best at charms. If anyone could do it, it'd be you."
Blaise had gone from hurt to angry.
"And when would I have had time to cast this fantastic spell?" he asked, "I was with you until I went to sleep, and you were up long before me! Besides, if I could have gotten past Dumbeldore's Age Line, I'd have entered myself!"
Harry began to doubt his own suspicions, and he felt horrible for accusing his best friend.
"I'm sorry," he said instantly, "I just… Everyone thought I had put my name into that goblet. Snape, McGonagall… Even Dumbledore seems to think I might have been capable of it. And when you guessed it was my name that came out the last time…"
"That was a joke, Harry," Blaise said with a sigh, "Or at least, I thought it was… So what did they say? Are you going to compete?"
Harry nodded his head. His friends exchanged a look between them, then Blaise added, "Millie figures someone is out to get you."
Millie nodded her head solemnly, "I've heard people talking. This tournament has a reputation. People have died in the past. Whoever put your name in that Goblet certainly wasn't one of your friends."
Harry was about to ask who would want to kill him, but he already knew of one person, at least. Lord Voldemort... But that was absurd. Voldemort, wherever and in whatever form he was hiding, had lost his power. He was no threat to Harry now. Or at least, Harry hoped that was the case...
"This is a school for children," Harry reminded them, "Dumbledore wouldn't just let me die."
The door of the dormitory opened behind him. Harry had forgotten for a moment that they could not expect privacy even here. He shared this room with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. It was Draco alone who appeared now. He hesitated in the doorway, smirked, and proceeded to slink into the room. Harry watched in disgust as Draco selected Harry's bed to flop down on, asking lazily as he did, "So how did you do it, Potter? How did you manage to get your name in the Goblet?"
He had been asked this question one too many times. Harry retorted by grabbing a pillow from his bed and smacking Draco over the head with it.
"Get! Off! My! Bed!" he shouted, punctuating each word with another wallop of the pillow.
Draco hastily retreated to his own side of the room, his perfect blond hair how hopelessly tousled.
"You can deny it all you want, Potter!" he said angrily, "But like it or not, you're a champion now! You'll have to deal with what's coming to you."