Author's Note

This is my first work of fan fiction, though not my first written work. I do hope that you enjoy it, as my desire is to entertain readers just as much as it is to get this story out of my head.

I despise typos, continuity errors, and formatting mistakes. Do not hesitate to point them out so I may set them on fire, though I would prefer you DM me so my shame does not live eternal in the reviews.

Please. Review. I cannot stress this enough. Your feedback, both positive and negative, motivates me and helps me to become a better write.

Do. Not. Post. Spoilers. In. Your. Review.

Disclaimer: I am not the immensely talented and inspiring woman known as J. K. Rowling, and therefore hold no claim to the fantastical world she allows our imaginations to frolic in.

Chapter 2: The Golden Trio

Harry Potter did not consider himself particularly smart, or at least not any cleverer than most people that he knew. However, he still thought he understood the few people he knew a decent amount. Neville Longbottom was a nervous boy with a heart of gold and a heap of potential, he just needed help realizing it. Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind if you joked during his class, so long as you still paid attention and didn't disrupt anyone. And Snape was a git. But comparing his expectations a moment ago to what he was seeing now made Harry think that he really never had a clue about how anything worked.

The first thing that caught Harry's attention when he entered the common room was that besides being much darker, it looked as it did before he had gone down to the feast several hours earlier. There were no streamers, or banners, or empty butterbeer bottles laying around. No signs of snacks or music, or anything else out of the ordinary. It didn't look like there had been any sort of celebration at all. Harry might have assumed that the house elves had managed to clean the place before he arrived, since it was now after midnight and they would have had plenty of time. But he knew that Hogwarts house elves prided themselves on doing their job unseen, and there were people still in this room.

Hermione had a thick and worn looking book clutched firmly in her hands, at least that was something he had expected. However, her sprawled out on the large sofa using it as a pillow caught him by surprise. She wasn't snoring from what he could tell, which was truthfully not a lot since her hair had decided to cover her face. But the room was nearly empty and it was easy to hear her steady breathing and see her chest rise and fall even from the entryway.

Ron was standing next to her near an armchair that he had clearly just vacated in a hurry. To Harry's surprised he seemed wide-awake, and rather than the look of furious anger he was expecting it was one of worry, and maybe relief. He was still wearing his robes, something Ron rarely did around the common room, and his hair looked like it had lost a fight with the Whomping Willow. Harry was just able to catch the slight redness under his eyes as he quickly approached, but further inspection was foiled by the crushing hug his red headed friend engulfed him in.

"Harry, mate, where have you been!?"

Harry was shocked. He considered Ron Weasley a close friend, his best friend even, but they weren't very physically affectionate. In fact, Harry Potter was able to count the number of hugs he had received in his entire life on both hands. If you excluded the ones given to him by Mrs. Weasley, he could do it on one. But here was Ron, who he was sure would hate him by now, giving him one of those rare hugs. All he could manage to do was give him a soft pat on the back.

Harry wanted to respond to Ron, he really did, but at that moment he found himself completely speechless. Hermione taking a nap while there was a book to read had caught him off guard, and Ron striding across the room to embrace him not only surprised him, but completely stopped Harry in his tracks. But this wasn't what had Harry speechless, it was the room's third occupant that left Harry's mouth slightly ajar and unable to form words.

Sitting in the opposite armchair wearing a night robe of midnight blue with tiny stars that seemed to really twinkle, and a long slumped over night cap with a fuzzy depiction of what Harry guessed could only be the moon at the end, was Albus Dumbledore smiling warmly towards him. His hands were wrapped around what seemed to be a cup of tea, and his legs were covered by a warm red and gold polka dotted blanket. Harry looked at him strangely for a moment while he attempted to get his mouth to work again. However, Professor Dumbledore simply shook his head and nodded towards the friend whose arms were wrapped around him.

After a moment Harry finally managed to close his open mouth and start coming out of the daze he had been in since his name had been called earlier that evening.

"Ron? What's going on? I thought you would . . . " Harry just managed to stop himself from saying "hate me", but couldn't recover fast enough for Ron not to notice the pause. He pulled away from Harry, quickly rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, and gave him a stern look.

"That I would what?" Ron said confusedly.

Harry had spent the last few hours thinking of a hundred different terrible scenarios for when he next saw Ron, but none of them had started like this. In fact he couldn't think of one that hadn't at least started in some form of shouting. Not wanting things to turn that way he tried to find the most diplomatic, yet honest, way to let his best friend know how he felt.

"When my name was called you looked . . . Ron you looked so angry at me . . . "

Ron's brow furrowed slightly as his ears began to change to a familiar red. Harry was sure this was where the yelling would start, and frantically began going over each of the scenarios he had thought up to handle this reaction. But instead Ron clenched his fists and took a slow breath.

"Harry, I wasn't angry, I was right furious. But I wasn't furious at you, I was pissed off that it was another bloody year where something terrible was going to happen to my best mate, just because fate seems to get off on it or something I suppose. Oh, er, sorry Professor."

"I apologize Mr. Weasley, I was momentarily distracted by the fire, did you happen to say something?" Dumbledore said, a small smile on his face and a clear twinkle in his eye. "I would, however, recommend you keep your voices down. Unless of course Miss Granger is the type of person who enjoys being awoken by loud noises. Personally on the right occasion I find it to be rather exciting, sometimes I will ask Fawkes to . . ."

"Professor!" Harry whispered across the room, taking a moment to look at his sleeping friend. Hermione was still lost under a curtain of frizzy hair, clutching the book her head was resting on. After a moment of silence Harry could hear her steady breathing, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. He had found Hermione sleeping in the library once last year, when she was still taking every available class, and had discovered exactly what happens when she is woken suddenly. He now had a much less famous scar on his backside to remind him, and he would rather not have another one.

Dumbledore smiled apologetically, eyes still twinkling, and took a small sip of his tea. Harry had a thousand questions for the headmaster running through his head, but he knew that it could wait another few minutes. Turning back to Ron, who had also been watching Hermione carefully, he took a deep breath and asked the question he had been avoiding all night.

"Ron don't you . . don't you blame me? Don't you think this is my fault?"

Ron's eyes snapped from Hermione to Harry, and he could see the confusion brewing behind them.

"Mate, why would I blame you? You didn't ask for this."

"But I was saying just the other day how it would be cool to be a champion, and now I am one. Every year something happens to make me the center of attention at school, and the one year it looks almost guaranteed not to happen I'm suddenly in this tournament. I just thought . . . I guess I assumed everyone would blame me." Harry said, while looking down at his trainers. He could see they were still slightly damp from the second floor hallway.

Ron was quiet for a moment. Harry didn't want to look up and see what kind of expression he had on his face, but was forced to when Ron started talking again. His ears were slightly red again, and he could hear the underlying anger Ron was trying to hold back.

"Well . . you're not wrong about that last part. A lot of people do blame you. The second the ceremony was over I could hear people all over calling you a cheater, saying you had used dark magic to get a place as the fourth champion. Bloody chamber of secrets all over again. But, I could never think that you entered the tournament like that."

Harry had to stop himself from falling to the floor in both relief and shame. Ron was still his friend, he believed him and was on his side. Knowing of Ron's jealous streak, and seeing that look of anger on his face had convinced him that he would lose his best friend tonight. He couldn't stop how wonderful and terrible it felt to have been so wrong about his best friend.

"Ron . . " Harry started, trying his best not to sound too choked up. "You're my best friend. As long as you and Hermione trust me that's all that matters. I don't care what the rest of the school thinks."

Ron grinned a bit sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "uh, no offense or anything, but it's not really about trust. I mean, I do trust you!" Ron quickly added, catching the confusion on Harry's face. "But I mean, we've been best friends for years. I know you better than half of my brothers by now. And, well, sorry mate, but you're honestly terrible at keeping secrets. If you had tried to enter the tournament it would have been all over your face." He finished, grinning brightly.

Harry looked at Ron with his mouth slightly ajar. He couldn't tell if Ron was trying to joke or be serious, but Harry didn't care. After hours of worrying himself to death there really was no cure better than Ron Weasley being Ron Weasley. Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing, the stress of the night finally melting away. Ron gave a decent snort as well, all the while Dumbledore continued to twinkle in the corner. Harry moved forward to embrace Ron, but felt awkward having never initiated a hug before. Halfway towards him he stopped, and put out his hand, just as Ron had somewhat tried to meet him in the middle. There was a moment of awkwardness where sets of hands were raised and lowered, or were outstretched. Finally the two friends simply bumped their fists and nodded at each other.

A frustrated sigh could be heard from the sofa. "Pfft . . boys."

They both turned to see a rising Hermione, scowling as she pulled her hair away from her face and squinting against the bright firelight. She still clung to her book as if it were a pillow and sat up against the cushions. Ron and Harry gave her sheepish grins and moved closer. Ron decided to plop down at the other end of the sofa, now that Hermione had given up her claim to it. She gave him a dark look as her body lightly bounced in his wake. Harry took the second armchair opposite from the headmaster, who still had not said very much. However he had spent the entire time smiling, and he seemed rather comfortable, so Harry supposed it would be okay to check in with his second best friend before asking the headmaster why he was here.

"Good nap, Hermione? Sorry if we were too loud." He said with a small grin, while she was still trying to pull her hair back. She blinked a few times towards him, her eyes opening wider each time, but her frown was still present on her face.

"Oh no, it wasn't the noise that woke me. I was dreaming that I lived on a peaceful planet inhabited solely by witches, only to suddenly be invaded by a pair of large trolls." She shot both Harry and Ron a glare. "It honestly wasn't the noise that was bothersome . . . it was the smell."

Both Harry and Dumbledore laughed lightly at Hermione, while Ron frowned seriously and sniffed at his arm. This caused Hermione to smack his shoulder, and finally reveal a small smile. She turned to Harry giving him a superior smirk.

"So tell us, how convinced were you that neither of us believed you, and that you were about to spend the year friendless?" Her smirk turned softer as she spoke, and he could see the concern in her eyes. Ron shifted a bit uneasily, and the headmaster took a sip of his tea while looking into the fire, seemingly content to allow the three students to talk.

"I wasn't . . ." But he wisely ended his sentence as Hermione gave him a look. For his part Harry was feeling a bit embarrassed for running away. From the way these two were acting it was obvious that he wouldn't be going through this alone, and he was ashamed for convincing himself otherwise. But still, a large part of him was happy. His two best friends were going to stay by him, and no matter what happened with the rest of the year he knew he could get through it as long as he had them.

"I was just out wandering and being an idiot, it's not something I plan to do again. Promise Hermione."

Hermione smiled a bit and leaned forward, dropping her overlarge book on the table. It creaked slightly, and Harry could see gold lettering against a black leather cover, but he couldn't read it from here.

"Good book?" He said with a relieved smirk, trying to avoid any conversation about where he had been tonight.

Hermione gave him a sad smile leaning back into the sofa next to Ron.

"Not really no. In fact I would say considering the situation it's an absolutely dreadful read."

Curious now, Harry leaned forward and turned the book around so he could read the cover:

The Triwizard Tournament:

1994

Beauxbatons Durmstrang Hogwarts

"Harry . . . " Hermione started. "It's the rules for the tournament."

"And I believe that . . " came the older voice of the headmaster ". . is where I come in."

Author's Thoughts

I didn't know when I wrote this chapter how important it would be to me. I knew ahead of time that I wasn't a fan of Ron turning on Harry, even though how glaringly canon it is. I know a lot of people use the tournament as a chance to cut Ron out of their story, or to bash him endlessly. I've had fun reading those stories too, but those definitely weren't things I wanted to do in my writing. It always felt like a rare misstep in the narrative. Ron seemed closer to Harry than half of his brothers, but he turned on him in a moment. A moment that Ron should have realized Harry had nothing to do with, if he had known Harry at all. It just never sat right with me.

Ron is, in my opinion, easily the bravest character in the series. He doesn't have a tragic backstory, a drive to avenge someone, or really a lot of motivation to do anything. He grew up in a fairly decent household, surrounded by a loving (if overpowering) family, and was fairly comfortable. Harry always felt that it was his responsibility to take action, and Hermione always needed to prove herself. A lot of people say that Ron was "just there", but to me that alone speaks volumes.

Not everyone agrees, that's fine, and there are very valid arguments on both sides. The movie version of him, as well as Goblet of Fire in general, obviously don't help him in any way. For every positive about Ron there is probably an argument against him that I can agree with. But I still remember the helpless Ron Weasley that walked on a broken leg, most likely the worst pain he had ever experienced, to stand in front of his best friend and a crazed murderer. I remember him saying in a completely hopeless and inescapable situation that the only way to get to his friends was over his dead body.

That's the Ron I want to read more about.