Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I associated with the writing and creation of it in any way.
I really like characters reading the books fanfic, but I've noticed that a lot of them lack a plot other than commentary. I've tried looking, but the few that do are hard to find, or deleted. So I'm trying my hand at writing one. I'll probably fail miserably but, hey. At least I can say I've tried.
The flames inside the goblet suddenly turned red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it- the whole school gasped.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the hall. Harry saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up towards Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.
"Disappointed" was bit of an understatement, Harry thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected has dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next…
And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high in the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"
"No!" Ron said loudly, but nobody heard him except Harry; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"
But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out-
"Harry Potter."
(Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, pgs. 269-271)
Harry Potter could only stare in shock at the Goblet of Fire, numb disbelief coursing through him.
A torrent of emotions came flooding over him as he sat there, staring open-mouthed at the goblet.
"Go on," Hermione shoved Harry forward. Tentatively, Harry started walking to the side chamber the three champions had gone to.
"Cheater!" was being yelled at him from all four houses, mostly Hufflepuff.
Harry walked up to the front staring at the teachers, waiting for instructions. The teachers were all gaping at him, some with furious expressions on. The awkward silence was broken when Professor Dumbledore grabbed Harry's hands and steered him towards the chamber.
When the door closed behind him, Harry could vaguely hear the pandemonium that had erupted behind him. But he didn't care.
Harry opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but Dumbledore spoke before he could speak.
"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore asked in a low voice. Harry shook his head promptly.
"What zo you mean by zat?" Madam Maxime asked furiously. "Of courze he iz going zo lie!"
"My thoughts exactly!" Karkaroff barked. "Hogwarts cannot have two champions, Dumbledore! This is completely uncalled for! If this is another one of your manipulative schemes Dumbledore, I swear…"
Hagrid growled, signaling Karkaroff to stop talking.
"Calm down," Dumbledore said in a low, serene voice. "Before the TriWizard Tournament starts, we will have to do the Champion Reading."
The what?, Harry thought. "Perhaps young Mr. Potter will be disqualified in this," Dumbledore finished.
"Vhat is going on here?" Krum asked.
"What iz zhat leetle boy doing here?" Fleur Delacour asked, eyeing Harry with distaste.
Despite the situation, Harry couldn't help but feel angry about being called a "little boy". Harry had never BEEN a little boy. At a painfully young age, he had come to learn about the unfairness and cruelty life could hold.
Fate had been slapping Harry ever since he was a year old.
Madam Maxime quickly explained the situation to Fleur as Karkaroff did for Krum.
"But he cannot participate! Ee is too young!" Fleur cried.
"Ahem," Barty Crouch cleared his throat from behind. Everyone looked at him in surprise, clearly having forgotten he was there. "I'm sorry to cut your conversation short, but Mr. Potter is under a binding magical contract with the Goblet of Fire. He must participate. If he does not, he will lose his magic."
Cries of outrage and disbelief were heard in room.
It took nearly a minute for everybody to settle down once more. "First of all, Mr. Potter may get disqualified in the Champion Reading-"
But Barty Crouch was interrupted when Harry finally spoke for the first time in ten minutes.
"Excuse me, but, what is the Champion Reading?" Harry asked, confused.
"It is when we read a detailed account of each champion's school years," Barty said impatiently.
Barty Crouch went on talking, but Harry didn't listen. He felt like his stomach had dropped down a mile.
He was going to have to read his school years to everybody? Harry and his friends could get into so much trouble through this.
He was brought back to reality when Mr. Crouch finally finished with, "Very well then. We shall start the Champion Reading tomorrow morning. Now, off to bed."
Numbly, Harry got up and slowly walked towards his common room. He reached the portrait and said in a tired voice, "Firewhisky." The portrait swung upon and Harry was met with instant pandemonium.
"CONGRATULATIONS, HARRY!" Lee Jordan yelled. "HOW DID YOU GET PAST THE AGE LINE?!"
All the Gryffindors were having a massive party and everyone was constantly yelling similar things as Lee Jordan to Harry.
To be honest, Harry was in no mood to party, and just wanted a good night's rest, so he escaped the crowd and hurried to his dorm before anyone could catch him.
To Harry's surprise, Ron was already sitting cross-legged on the bed across from Harry's.
"Hey, mate," Ron said coldly, no trace of friendliness in his voice.
Harry only stared.
"You know, if you were gonna enter the tournament, you might have at least told me," Ron said self-righteously.
"I didn't enter the tournament," Harry said irritably. Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course. The famous Harry Potter can't get enough fame or attention, can he?" Ron asked, not even trying to be polite any more.
"You can believe what you want, Ron, but that doesn't change the fact that I didn't enter the tournament. And you know that I hate my fame," Harry said coolly.
Ron rolled his eyes again and closed his curtains. Harry turned off the lights and slumped on his pillows, falling asleep almost immediately.