"Fine. I'll go owl him right now if you wanna be that way." He said, marching off. I laughed before realizing he was serious, and actually heading towards the overly.

"What, Wait!" I cried after him. Now what did I get myself into?

The rest of the week had passed by in a blur. Much to my disappointment, we didn't blow up any toilets, but we did put dungbombs in the Slytherin Quidditch locker rooms. It was all anyone could talk about for the past few days.

Well, that and the Tournament.

Today at dinner was when the cup was supposed to pick three champions. I wasn't excited, to say the least.

A contest to see who doesn't die for money and fame? It sounds like a whole lot of bad news to me.

I was just thankful that no one I cared for was old enough to be in it.

"Hiyah, Harry. Whatcha working on?" I asked, sitting down next to him in the library.

He looked up from his parchment and gave me a 'hello, I wish I was asleep' nod. I laughed- quietly though. Madam Pince was a force to be reckoned with. I wasn't messing around with her today.

"That bloody essay in Defense." He said.

"Ohhh. When is that due? I wasn't paying attention."

"Wednesday, I think. And I figured. You never pay attention in Moody's class. Do you even know what the essay is on?"

"Nope." I said, popping the p. "And I don't pay attention because he gives me nightmares. Honestly, who starts off the year with the unforgivables?" I scoffed. "No thank you."

Harry shook his head. "You and me both."

I sat down between Hermione and Fred at the table. The air was charged with tense excitement. It made me feel kind of sick.

"Who do you think is going to be the champion for Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"I hope it's nobody I know." I said sullenly. This earned me frowns from Fred, George, and Hermione.

"Why?"

"Is Rita jealous?"

"Hmpf. As if. I told you guys, I don't like the idea of this. It worries me. I don't think it's a good idea for students to be participating in deadly trials, age limit or no." I said firmly, dishing out some soup into my bowl. Even though I had no appetite whatsoever.

"It won't be that bad. They've taken so many precautions, Rita. I doubt they'll even get bruises." Fred said.

"Yeah. McGonagall will probably wrap them up in bubble wrap first." George joked.

"It's not funny!" I snapped. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just-"

"Alright everyone. Settle down." Dumbledore said loudly, cutting my off. We all turned to look at him. "It is time to choose the champions of our Triwizard Tournament."

He walked down towards the goblet, and waited patiently next to it.

For a few minutes nothing happened. And then it flared up, a burst of red flames. A piece of paper shot out, and Dumbledore caught it easily.

"I have a really bad feeling about this..." I said.

"Rita, it's okay. Calm down." Hermione said. I watched with a frown as Dumbledore read the slip.

"The champion for Beauxebatons is Fleur Delacour." There's was lots of cheering, all around. It was almost defening. I could hear some French words being thrown around in the mixture.

I didn't clap.

Another piece of paper shot out, also accompanied by red flames.

"I really have a bad feeling."

Fred patted my shoulder. "It's all gunna be fine."

"The champion for Durmstrang is Victor Krum!" A huge uproar, even louder than for the French girl, and people were jumping out of their seats. Ron seemed to be spazzing.

The last piece of paper shot out, and the large red flames died down to low blue ones.

"And lastly, the champion for Hogwarts is... Cedric Digory!"

May the Lord have mercy on your souls.

"Now," Dumbledore started. "As you all know-" the goblet gave a loud roar, and red flames jumped up in it again. I frowned.

"Oh no."

The flames seemed to reach out to the sky on the ceiling, sending up little embers that mixed with the stars.

Dumbledore frowned and plucked the fourth piece of paper from the air.

"Harry Potter." He read.

I could practically feel the blood drain from my face as my jaw fell slack. I turned to look at Harry, who seemed to have had the same reaction.

"Oh no." I said again.

"Harry Potter!"

"Go." Hermione said, pushing Harry. He stood up, and followed the same path that the three others had took.

"Oh no." And everything went black.

"-be fine."

"-what about-"

"I said- as long-"

I groaned, and heard gasps from all around me. Forcing my eyes open, sunlight streamed in like a river forcing itself around rocks.

"What happened?" I murmured.

"You passed out after Harry went to the room with the other Champions." Hermione said softly.

"Rita, how are you feeling?" Fred asked.

"Like I told you all. I said I had a bad feeling about this, and now somebody's gone and put Harry's name in the goblet. Oh Merlin, oh Merlin. He's going to die." I ranted.

"At least somebody believes me! This is why Rita is my favorite."

"Harry!" I exclaimed.

"And I didn't even have to say anything to her! Rita is just too smart."

"Trellawaney thinks she's a future seer."

"I'm laying right here, you know." I huffed.

"We know." They all chorused.

"Harry, what are you going to do?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. They say that I have to participate-"

"No! You can't! Harry, you'll be killed!"

"Rita, relax. Harry will be fine. He's done worse."

"No, George, you don't understand! None of you are understanding!" I gritted our, sitting up.

"Dear, do lay down!" Madam Pomfrey said, but I ignored her.

"I can feel it. Ever since Dumbledore first announced it. I could feel it. I'm telling you right now: somebody is going to die. It may be Harry, and it may not be. But I can also tell you this: for whatever reason Harry got into this, it's not good. I'm not being paranoid, you guys. I can feel it."

"Alright. I think that's enough. Everyone out!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, pushing on my shoulders and forcing me to lean back against the pillows. I stared up at the white ceiling.

They all left, no one saying anything. I probably scared them a little, but that was good. They should be scared. Melting knows I am.

"And I was beginning to hope I would see less people in the infirmary this year." Pomfrey sighed. "I suppose I hoped too soon."

"But, Madam Pomfrey, what would you do without me showing up unconscious? I'm beginning to think it's like our own little tradition!" I said, trying to make light of the situation. As Dumbledore would say, I was 'turning on the light.'