Disclaimer: The contract says JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.

A/N: Did you really think Hermione would be a champion? It could be fun, sure, but there's no rational reason for it. Voldemort needs Harry's blood, and he doesn't care enough about Hermione (yet!) to complicate his plan by involving her. Even hexing him the face earns her only a higher spot on his long, long hit list.

On an unrelated note, the reviews for The Arithmancer have now passed up those for The Accidental Animagus. I want to thank everyone who reviewed. I do appreciate the feedback. I wasn't sure how well this story would do with the maths theme, but I'm very pleased by the response.

I seem to be on a roll. I just finished a side project that I've been working on for a while. The Stag and the Swan is now up, depicting an actual successful Harry/Cho date.

Chapter 67

There was a definite murmur of unhappiness in the Great Hall. Harry Potter sat frozen in his seat, unwilling to believe what he'd just heard. Ron stared at him with his mouth hanging open. Hermione was rubbing her forehead where she'd banged it on the table, shaking her head with the most exasperated look he'd ever seen on her.

"I didn't put my name in," he said. "You know I didn't."

Ron didn't seem to register his voice at all. Hermione shook her head with a slightly different tempo that he hoped meant she believed him, but he wasn't sure.

"Harry, please come up here," Dumbledore called again.

"You'd better go," Hermione whispered.

Harry rose to his feet and walked up the long table to the front of the Great Hall in a daze. He was vaguely aware of the whispers growing louder, but he couldn't make out anything that was said. Time itself seemed to lose meaning for him as Dumbledore directed him through the door to the anteroom to join the other champions.

Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum stood around the fire, waiting calmly for their instructions. Harry's appearance certainly surprised them.

"What is eet, Monsieur Potter?" Fleur asked. "Do zey want us back in zee Hall?"

Harry shook his head slightly and tried to answer, but no sound would come out of his mouth.

Suddenly, the door banged open again, and Ludo Bagman barged into the room. He grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him along, looking far too excited for the situation. "Absolutely incredible," he said. "Gentlemen, lady, most incredible—may I introduce the fourth Triwizard Champion."

That definitely got a reaction. Krum gave him a very suspicious look. Cedric looked as baffled as Harry did. But Fleur smiled: "Oh, vairy funny joke Monsieur Bagman."

"Joke? No, no joke," Bagman said. "Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

"Zee Goblet of Fire? C'est impossible! 'E could not enter 'is name."

"I didn't enter my name," Harry finally choked out.

Bagman didn't seem to have heard him. He still looked like a little boy on Christmas morning.

"I would not 'ave zought so, Monsieur Potter," Fleur said. "'Ermione says you are good, but not zat good."

Gee, thanks, Hermione, Harry couldn't help but think. Even with Sirius's tips, he still wasn't immune to the girl's veela influence.

Dumbledore finally entered the anteroom, along with Karkaroff, Maxime, Mr. Crouch, Professor McGonagall, and, to Harry's dismay, Professor Snape. Fleur was on her headmistress at once.

"Madame Maxime, Monsieur Bagman says that Monsieur Potter is to compete also! Eet must be a joke!"

"I am afraid eet is no joke," the huge woman said, nearly knocking Fleur down when she clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I would like an explanation as well, Dumbly-dorr."

"As would I," Karkaroff agreed. "You said that no underage students would be able to enter."

"Well, Potter's always made it clear that the rules don't apply to him," Snape said.

Why is he here again? Harry wondered.

"Thank you Severus," Dumbledore cut him off with a warning tone. He stepped forward and bent down towards Harry and stared at him intently, as if he was trying to read his mind. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked. His voice was calm, but the intensity in those pale blue eyes was overwhelming.

"No," Harry said.

"Did you ask an older student to put your name in for you?"

Harry gaped: "You can do that? Hermione said the Age Line would—"

"Check your birth date against the records? Yes, or so I thought, at least for Hogwarts students."

"Zen you must 'ave made a mistake," Madame Maxime suggested.

"I doubt it," growled another voice. Professor Moody stepped out of the shadows with a clunk of his wooden leg. Harry jumped. He was almost certain Moody hadn't been there before. "We all know Albus isn't that careless."

"Then how did Potter get in?" Karkaroff demanded.

"It's obvious isn't?" Moody said, giving the Durmstrang Head a more suspicious look than usual. "The Goblet was prepped for a tournament of three schools—three. Someone must have tampered with it to get it to spit out four names—probably Confunded it. Then, whoever Confunded the Goblet put Potter down for a fourth school. And if the Age Line only checked Hogwarts students…"

"It would not have checked Harry's name." Dumbledore's face hardened when he realised the loophole he had left open.

"Which only says that an older student helped him," Karkaroff said.

"Does it?" Moody said. "A mere student cast a Confundus powerful enough to bamboozle that Goblet? No. Think about it: Potter's name gets put into the Goblet by someone with highly advanced magic in a way that guarantees it'll come out again. Sounds more like a hit to me."

Harry didn't think he could get any more nervous, but apparently, he wasn't paranoid enough. Someone trying to kill him by forcing him into the Tournament sounded exactly like something that would happen to him.

"A possibility we must consider, yes, Alastor," Dumbledore said. "But in either case, I agree with your assessment. I highly doubt any student in this school could have Confunded the Goblet like that."

"Even the Granger girl?"

"Hermione would never do that!" Harry shouted. Everyone turned to him.

"While Miss Granger has done more impossible things than any other student save Mr. Potter, here, I agree with his assessment," Dumbledore said. "Miss Granger would not place her friend at such risk."

"I agree," Madame Maxime said. "Mademoiselle Granger ees a model student and vairy concerned for zee well-being of 'er friends. Now, zis discussion ees vairy enlightening," Madame Maxime said, "but we 'ave not resolved our problem. Monsieur Crouch, Monsieur Bagman, you are our 'impartial judges'. What ees your ruling?"

Mr. Crouch drew himself up importantly and spoke to the group: "The rules are very clear. The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter…must compete."

While Harry was stuck with the powers that be deciding his fate, Hermione was drawing some very similar conclusions to theirs.

Point: There was no way Harry would deliberately enter his name in the Tournament or ask someone else to enter it for him.

Point: While she didn't know the details, she was sure it would take someone very skilled to outwit Dumbledore's safeguards.

Point: If it was a Hogwarts student who did it, that made them obviously good enough to compete, so why would they enter Harry's name rather than their own? It wouldn't improve Hogwarts's chances of a win. If it was a Hogwarts professor, who knew Harry at least in passing, they would know he couldn't compete with Cedric in a fair contest. If they wanted to rig it, why not rig it for Cedric?

Therefore, someone had entered Harry's name in the Goblet hoping he wouldn't win.

Therefore, Harry's life was in grave danger. Again.

She reached this conclusion by the time Dumbledore dismissed the students to their dorms. However, she didn't go back with the other Beauxbatons students. Instead, she followed the Weasleys part of the way to Gryffindor Tower, hoping she could catch Harry again before curfew.

As they walked, though, Ronald Weasley was following a different train of thought.

Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. How had he done that? Ron wondered. Had he done it himself? Suddenly, Ron felt very unsure of himself. Harry had done some wild things before, but not like this. Well, sure, he had shown off his Quidditch skills back in first year, but that had started with that fight with Malfoy. And yeah, he did charge off into danger a lot, but that was always because someone else was in danger first. Harry wasn't a show-off—not like that…was he? Ron found himself second-guessing things that he had never paid any mind before. It wasn't a good feeling. He was worried about his best mate, but at the same time, what if he really had found a way to enter himself?

Ron was broken out of his thoughts by a shout from his brother. "That was brilliant!" Fred exclaimed. "Best prank ever!"

"At least the best we've seen all year, and that includes Malfoy being turned into a ferret," George added.

"I wonder how he did it," Fred continued. "We couldn't even get past the Age Line."

"Maybe he sneaked in and changed his school records, like Hermione said," George answered. "Hermione, what do you think?"

"I don't think he did it," she said sharply.

"It's great, isn't it?" said Angelina Johnson, ignoring Hermione's words. "I wish I could've done it, but at least we'll have a Gryffindor in the Tournament."

"Oh, yes. I call party in the Common Room!" Fred said.

"Seconded!" George agreed.

"He didn't do it!" Hermione protested. "Didn't any of you see his face? I think I would know if my best friend had entered a dangerous contest. He's probably scared stiff right now, and he's not going to appreciate a party."

But her words fell on deaf ears. Nearly all of Gryffindor was too excited to have one of their own picked as Champion to think about anything else—certainly not about whether Harry actually entered himself. Their enthusiasm only served to make Ron feel more conflicted. He could work through logic as well as the next chess master. They all seemed to believe Harry had entered himself—Harry's own house. Most of his friends. Hermione didn't believe it, but she hadn't been around all year. And she'd been sleeping out with the other French girls last night, and she was off talking to her other friends for most of the day. Plenty of Gryffindors had been around the Goblet all day. Surely, one of them knew what happened for sure and would speak up if Harry hadn't been seen there—even though it seemed so bizarre for him to go after a prize like that, especially without telling Ron himself.

But it was a prize, though. It came with money, glory, and, from the sounds of things, a lot of female attention.

"Ooh, that would be amazing if he wins," said a giggling Lavender Brown.

"You think he could?" asked Parvati Patil.

"Sure. Just look at what he's done. Isn't that right, Hermione? You said he fought off all those dementors, and he killed that basilisk, and there was that thing with Quirrell—"

"But he had help for all of those, Lav," Hermione protested.

"Maybe, but you haven't seen how well he's doing in Defence this year. He's really good."

"It looks like all that Quidditch is finally paying off, too," Parvati added, and both she and Lavender giggled conspiratorially.

That bit really stuck in Ron's craw. He'd been there for all of Harry's adventures. He'd done almost as much. And yet it was always Harry that the pretty girls like Lavender and Parvati—and everybody else, really—talked about—something he was starting to care quite a bit about this year. He tried to tell himself it wasn't Harry's fault, but it was hard.

And they didn't even have Quidditch this year. He couldn't even join in that now that Oliver Wood had finally graduated. That just wasn't fair. Maybe it wasn't Harry's fault, but it definitely wasn't fair—

"Ronald!"

He stopped, realising that Hermione had been calling his name for some time. "Huh?" he said.

"I said, you don't think Harry entered his name, do you?"

"Well, I don't know," he said testily. "Why don't you ask him when he gets back?"

"Ron!" she gasped. "You can't possibly think that Harry would—and you two!" She pointed at the Twins. "Harry could die in this Tournament, especially as it's designed for people three years older than he is. The least you could do is be a little concerned about that."

Fred and George looked a little subdued at that thought—only a little. They were Fred and George, after all. But Ron seemed more annoyed when she pressed him than anything else. "Look, I don't know, Hermione," he snapped. "I'll talk to him when he gets back."

"Oh, fine," she said, hoping he would cool down before Harry got to him.

"It's okay, Hermione. I believe you," a small voice said. Ginny laid a comforting hand on her arm.

Hermione sighed: "Thanks Ginny."

"And I'm sure Ron'll come around."

"I hope so. He looks pretty mad about something."

"Well, you know how Ron is…Hermione I'm scared," the younger girl said. "You're right. Harry could die in this. Is there anything you can do?"

Hermione had been wondering that herself for the past ten minutes. "I don't know…" she said. "But I'll think of something. You go on ahead. I'm going to catch Harry on the way up."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Go on."

Ginny turned and followed her brothers. Hermione, on the other hand, ducked into the nearest empty classroom.

"Dobby!" she called.

Pop! "Miss Hermione! Miss Hermione!" the elf said. "The other elves is saying that Harry Potter was picked for the Tournament."

"Yes, Dobby, he was."

"Then Harry Potter is being in danger, miss! We must be helping him!"

"I know that. I'm going to try to help him. What are my options for staying at Hogwarts the rest of the year?"

Dobby turned paled and looked down, wringing his hands. "Miss Hermione's parents will not allow it," he said. "Dobby's orders is to stop yous from trying. And Professor Dumbledore would be asking your parents about it, too."

"That's what I thought," she sighed. She couldn't hide it. She recited Dobby's orders in her head again. She didn't think she could exploit a loophole this time, and even if she did, she couldn't imagine there was any way to transfer back to Hogwarts without her parents signing off on it. Even if Dumbledore had the authority to force it, she was sure he wouldn't—at least not unless she had proved an ability to help Harry in the Tournament beyond what he could get from the older students.

"Okay, then, I can't come back to stay," she concluded. "What if I asked Mum and Dad if I can visit again for each the tasks? I could probably bend the rules and take a few liberties to get a few extra days each time." She didn't relish the thought of abusing her parents' trust, but seeing Harry put in this kind of danger—at least if he couldn't get out of it—changed her perspective pretty fast.

Dobby bit his lip nervously. It was a strange look on an elf. Hermione was sure he must have picked up the habit from her—or perhaps her mum. "Dobby is thinking they would agree to the visits, miss," he said, "but they says Hogwarts is dangerous. Dobby is ordered to tell them when you comes back."

"Shoot, I hadn't thought of that." Dobby would have to tell her parents if she took those extra days (not to mention the skiving off class she'd have to do, but she was sure she could catch up if she worked at it), and they were sure to be less keen on that idea. Could she get around that? She didn't really need to break the rules, just bend them a little. There was one way, she thought, though she hated to push it that far. "Dobby, please bring me my copy of your contract," she said resignedly.

Dobby turned deathly pale, but he still had to obey his orders. He nodded with a squeak and popped away. A few minutes later, he returned with a long piece of parchment and handed it over with shaking hands.

"Thank you, Dobby."

"Yes, miss…" he said worriedly. Finally, he spoke up, "M-Miss Hermione is not going to d-dismiss D-Dobby…is she?"

"What? No, Dobby, that wasn't my idea," she assured him. "I'm looking for something else." She searched the contract for the provisions she wanted and carefully scanned for anything that would derail her plan. "Ah, here it is," she said. "Look. My parents are my guardians and all that, but from a legal standpoint, Dad's orders take first priority because he's the one who's paying you, and that's written into the contract here. But now that I have my patents on those potions kits, I'm making enough money from royalties that I can pay you myself. Now look here." She pointed to another section. "Because we're paying you what muggles consider an exploitative wage, we gave you a very generous provision to leave. Basically, you can quit your position at any time with no prior notice by informing any one of us. I made sure to keep that provision in your subcontract to Beauxbatons, too.

"Now, here's what I'm thinking. If Harry can't get out of the Tournament. You cancel your contract now by informing me. Then, I'll rehire you on a new contract with me as your sole employer. That way, Mum and Dad won't have to sign it, and they never need to know. You'll do almost everything the same, but you won't have to notify them of my travels."

Dobby's eyes grew wide, amazed that his Miss Hermione had thought of something so devious. Fleetingly, he wondered if she could have made Slytherin if she were a pureblood. But then, he saw another problem and looked down at his stockinged feet in shame again. "But Miss Hermione," he said. "Your parents will be finding out."

Hermione frowned: "What do you mean?"

"With Elf Magic, Dobby can only Trace his masters or employers. If you is Dobby's only employer, your parents will be finding out if they calls Dobby and I can't hears them."

"Tsk." That was another conundrum she hadn't anticipated. How could she get out of that one? One more lie? Tell her parents Dobby had up and left to help Harry? No, Dobby was as devoted to them now as he was to Harry. They wouldn't believe it. Plus, they'd be concerned about losing his eyes on her. What did she know about the Elf Trace? It only worked on masters or employers. It let Dobby hear them and come to them when they called. For bound masters, it worked on anyone in the family, but for employers, it only worked for people on the contract—and presumably dependents, but she couldn't claim her parents as her dependents. For Hogwarts elves, it was tied to the castle and worked anywhere in the school and grounds—To the castle.

"Dobby, this Elf Trace—instead of putting it on Mum and Dad, can you put it on the house instead? It's where I officially live, after all."

The elf brightened at that: "Yes, miss, Dobby can. Do you think that will work?"

"Yes, or at least it has a very good chance. Mum and Dad can't really call you anywhere but the house, or they risk you being seen. If you put the Trace on the house so you can still hear them there, they'll never have to know our arrangement changed."

Dobby grinned broadly and hugged her legs. "Oh, Dobby is so honoured to work for such a smart witch," he said. "I knows Miss Hermione will be able to help Harry Potter."

"Well, I'll certainly do all I can. I'll start writing up the new contracts. You stand by the door and pull Harry in here when he walks by."

Luckily, Hermione still had all the paperwork for when they had first hired Dobby. She made sure to keep everything in case someone tried to raise an irregularity with their unusual arrangement. Thus, it was trivial to copy all the forms she needed. A little while later, she heard a yelp from the door, and Harry stumbled into the classroom with a bewildered look on his face.

"Hermione?" he said.

"Harry!" She jumped up and hugged him. He looked like he needed it. "What happened down there?"

His face fell: "I have to compete."

"Of course you do," she huffed. "There wasn't any way you could get out of it?"

"No. The Goblet's a binding magical contract or some such. I have to compete or face the penalty."

"What's the penalty?"

"I don't know, but it sounds bad."

"But you were entered against your will. That's got to be considered bad faith or something like that."

"I don't think it matters."

"Well…well, can't they redraw the names?"

"Nope. They asked that, too. But Mr. Crouch said the Goblet's decision is final until the next Tournament. I'm sorry, Hermione. Even Dumbledore couldn't get me out of it."

Hermione stepped back and took a deep breath. "Well…that's it, then," she said.

"What's it?" Harry asked.

But Hermione was already fiddling with some parchments. "Dobby," she said, handing the elf a quill. "Sign here, please…and here…and here…and initial here. Good. Now, move my things into the Room of Requirement, please—that'll just be for tonight, of course. Then, take that subcontract to Madame Maxime to sign, and you'll be reinstated. And here's your pay to buy out the rest of this week." She handed him a galleon.

"Yes, Miss Hermione." Dobby took the parchment and vanished.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Harry said.

"What does it look like is going on? I'm going to help you survive the Tournament."

"What? But—but your parents—"

"I'll ask them to let me visit on the days of the tasks, but I'm going to arrange things so I can spend a few days here before each one to help you prepare."

"You are? How?"

"Well, to start off, I'm going to hide out in the Room of Requirement tonight and 'accidentally' miss my Portkey back to France in the morning. I'm very distraught over you getting chosen, you know. That'll buy me a couple days while they arrange another one, and I can arrange a quick way to get back here when I want to. Do you think Sirius would help me out?"

"Sirius? I—I guess. He seems to like you." Harry's head was spinning. In typical Hermione fashion, his now-curly-haired friend had already worked out what was going on and formulated a plan to do something about it in just the time it took for him to register that he was in deep trouble.

"Great. You'll want to write him tomorrow morning, of course."

"Uh…right…" he said. And before he could stop himself, he added, "Hermione, why are you doing this?"

"Harry…I'm sorry this happened to you. It always seems to be you, you know. I have a feeling I'm going to have to save your life three more times this year, and I need to be here in order to respond quickly…You're my best friend, Harry. I can't abandon you to a mess like this."

Harry stepped forward and tentatively hugged Hermione. "You don't have to do all that," he said. "I haven't been that great a friend to you."

"Nonsense. You're a wonderful friend. Are you talking about last winter?" He gave her an uncomfortable look, and she shook her head. "All friends fight sometimes. You've been there for me more than anyone else—ever since the troll. You know…that was three years ago tonight, and despite everything that's happened, I wouldn't trade the past three years for anything."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said. "I still wish I could pay you back for everything you've done, though."

"Just stay alive, Harry. That's enough for me. Now, you'd probably better get to bed. You look tired."

"Uh, yeah, right." They left the classroom together, and Harry asked one more question: "Hey, Hermione, you don't think I put my name in the Goblet, do you?"

"Of course not! I know you wouldn't do that…But, um…"

"What?"

"Well…I think Ginny was the only other one who didn't think you had."

"Great. Ron? Fred? George?"

Hermione shook her head: "You know how boys can be—no offence. I know it must be hard for you. After all, there's a good chance that…well, that this whole thing is a plot to kill you."

Harry's face darkened. "That's what Professor Moody said," he told her. "I was kind of hoping someone just put my name in to make me make a fool of myself."

Hermione was perplexed. "Who?" she said.

"I don't know. Malfoy?"

"No, he would rather see you killed. I'm sorry. It's all screwed up. Just…try not to let it bother you tonight. We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

Harry nodded and went on to Gryffindor Tower, not anticipating the enthusiastic and entirely misplaced greeting that awaited him there.

It was a madhouse inside the Common Room. Everyone was congratulating him on getting picked in the Tournament—or at least everyone who came to the party, which was, admittedly, a biased sample. Even so, no one actually listened to a word he said, no matter how many times he tried to deny putting his name in the Goblet. The most he ever got was a wink, wink, nudge, nudge in reply. Harry couldn't believe it was even possible to have so many people in the same place who were capable of so thoroughly ignoring the person they were supposed to be celebrating. He could barely even get them to let him go on up to bed.

To his relief, Ron was already in their dorm room.

"So where were you?" Harry demanded.

"Didn't feel like partying," Ron said. "So did you do it?"

"What?"

"Did you put your name in?"

"No, of course not."

Ron's eyes narrowed, and he gave him a sceptical look.

Harry's face fell: "You don't believe me, do you? You, Ron?"

"I don't know," the redhead insisted. "It's weird, mate—really weird. I don't see any reason you wouldn't admit it to me. But still, how could your name come out of the Goblet if you didn't even want to enter."

"I don't know. Neither did Dumbledore."

"But wouldn't that, you know, disqualify you from being the best candidate or something if you didn't want to do it?"

Harry shrugged: "Maybe. But I wasn't entered under Hogwarts. I was entered under some other school."

"Awful convenient, isn't it?"

"Ron! Are you serious? I didn't enter my name."

"I dunno, mate. I thought I got you, but now I'm not so sure. I mean, you were talking about how it'd be nice to win the Tournament, weren't you?"

"What? That's ridiculous! Sure, it'd be nice, I would've never actually entered. I don't stand a chance against Cedric."

"You sure? You've always seemed to get out of tight spots before."

"Because I had help. And I got lucky. What's got into you, Ron?"

"Nothing!" he snapped. "I just want to know why things don't make sense anymore. I didn't think you would enter the Tournament, but why would anyone else enter you?"

Harry glowered at him. "Maybe to kill me," he said. Ron's eyebrows rose, but he didn't reply. "Hermione believes me, you know," Harry added.

"Yeah, well that's Hermione. She's not the only one who can be smart."

"Well, you sure aren't doing a very good job of it."

"Whatever," Ron said. He pulled his curtain back to block out Harry from any further conversation. But still, the redhead wondered why he felt so uncomfortable about it.