I did not hear right.

It can't be...

There's no way.

I wasn't even supposed to entire the Tournament.

"Ray, get up!"

"Ray, c'mon, you've got to go to Dumbledore!"

Somebody grasped my arm and shoved me, hard.

I flew off the bench and tripped into the next table.

Somebody giggled as I accidentally slammed right into them. I straightened myself up and began walking, swallowing hard.

There was utter silence.

Then, uncertainly, Alice, Lily, and Dorcas began to applaud. Once. Twice.

And James Potter let out a whoop before the entire Gryffindor Table broke into cheers.

The walk to Dumbledore seemed to take an eternity, but all too soon, there he was grasping my hand. I forgot what his expression was. Then I made my way up to the staff table where a row of Professors were sitting and then finally, beyond. I slipped past the door and down the staircase until I came to a pair of golden doors that slid open for me.

I took one, deep shuddering breath and then entered the room.

It was a neat room, with plush carpeting and an oak table surrounded by chairs. Pictures and painting lined the walls. A roaring fireplace was on the opposite wall and hanging above it, a large mirror.

I could see the reflection of the two other champions, one incredibly attractive and in turquoise blue robes, the other unforgivingly stern, haughty in a partially handsome manner, and above all, distant and cold.

And then there was me, lingering in the back, looking uglier than ever, gaunt, with long, messy hair and a disconnected expression.

Suddenly, Jared's eyes flickered up in the mirror and he caught me standing there like a fool, unsure of what to do.

The other champion, Julian, seemed to notice Jared's glance and he turned around to greet me.

"So it's you?" Julian said, smiling.

I tried to say "yes", but my throat was quite dry and I couldn't get a word out.

Suddenly, the doors behind me opened again.

We all turned and looked upwards to a see a rather large procession of people coming: the Headmasters of all three schools, Professors McGonagall, Maudrick, and Collins, and three people in very formal wear.

"Champions, gather around in front of the fireplace, please!" one of the three men shouted.

I froze when his face was thrown into light by the fireplace.

"Ms. Kingsley, come along," Professor McGonagall said and though her words were stern, her hands were gentle as she guided me down the fireplace to the rest of the champions.

"Congratulations, champions!" Dumbledore said, smiling down at all of us. "And may I present to you the Head of the Department of the Magical International Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch."

I barely stifled an expression of disgust. He looked so similar to his son. Who was this man and what kind of father was he, that his son was so terribly repulsive?

"Champions!" Mr. Crouch said. "Now, understand that the champions are not allowed to ask or accept any kind of help from their teachers to complete their tasks in the tournament. Also, owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

"The first task is to take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and a panel of judges. Know that you will be armed only with your wand and you will stand alone. The first task is overall, designed to test your response and daring, your ability to judge situations in a short time, therefore most of the information will not be given to you. However, know this- there are four areas in which you will be tested: your physical ability, your ability to reason logically, your knowledge of magical creatures, and of course, your magical ability. Good luck to all of you."

After this short announcement, we parted. As I made to leave, Professor Maudrick approached me, "I know you're thinking of avoiding the common room tonight."

I looked up at him, astonished that he'd predicted my thoughts word for word.

Maudrick smiled briefly. "It's what I would have done."

"But don't", Maudrick continued, shaking his head. "Go back. Play the champion, even if you don't feel like it. When the time comes, you're going to need all the allies you can get."

He clapped me on the back and said quietly, "I know it's not what you want to hear, but congratulations."

I stepped back out into the Great Hall, which was now completely deserted and lit only by a few flickering torches along the walls.

What, I thought, have I gotten myself into?

I won't last two seconds in this tournament.

First, the Sorting Hat chooses wrong.

Now the Goblet of Fire.

I am not where I am supposed to be.

I am not who I am supposed to be.

I found myself before the Fat Lady. "Dragon scales."

"Indeed," the Fat lady swung open to admit passage.

A burst of confetti burst into the air. As it settled at my feet, I recognized it as leftovers from the confetti James had poured onto Lily.

"You've done it!" someone shouted and another hand reached out and grabbed me, dragging me into the midst of a large, rambunctious crowd.

"Here, have some food!"

"However were you chosen?"

"Blimey, can't believe it's you!"

"Didya talk to the other champions? What were they like?"

"I'm so proud it's a Gryffindor!"

I stood there for as long as I deemed appropriate and when most of the people partying were too inebriated to notice whether I was gone or not, I finally got to my feet and slipped into my dorm.

Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, and Alice were all together, talking in low, furious voices, but they broke apart the moment I entered.

Well, that doesn't make me feel particularly welcome.

"How are you feeling?" Lily asked me hesitantly.

"Tired," I answered honestly. I turned to take off my robe, but as I did so, I thought I saw a flicker of anger pass over Marlene's face.

Well, she's no right to be, I thought, slowly beginning to fume as I took off my robe rather viciously. She was the one insisting I put my name in that damn Goblet.

"Ray, you sure everything's all right?" Dorcas asked me.

"Yeah," I said, heading for the bathroom. "I just need to get my head around it. I'll be fine, I promise."


Maudrick had been right. I needed my allies. Most of Gryffindor House seemed incredibly happy not with me, per say, but with the fact that a Gryffindor was chosen as Champion. Of course, I was not the most popular among the Gryffindors and so I much less supported than if, say, Sirius Black or James Potter had become Champion instead. However, everyone else was incredibly disapproving of me, and of the three skeptical schools, Hogwarts was the downright nastiest because Hogwarts students, in having once seen me walked down the hallways, suddenly felt they had the right to judge me.

"How is it you?" one Slytherin girl sneered at me at the breakfast table the next morning. "Did you write your sister's name instead of yours?"

"Please leave her alone," Alice spoke quietly on my behalf. "She isn't feeling well."

"Don't make Hogwarts look stupid, please," one younger Hufflepuff boy said to me. He then shook his head and murmured, "Merlin, can't believe it's you" before walking away.

The criticisms were relentless and by the end of the day, even Lily Evans, the Queen of Being Above What Everybody Thinks snapped so that when two second year girls were overheard, saying, "But seriously, why can't we have someone who's more charismatic? Someone who looks like a champion. Someone who's' at least got some presence. I mean, I was going to support Hogwarts, obviously, but I think I might support the champion from Letra Damien instead", Lily cut them off.

"You people are so superficial!" Lily snapped, appearing in front of them out of nowhere.

They looked up, terrified to see an angry seventh-year dragon lady in front of them.

"Lily, it's all right," I said quietly and grabbed her arm to stop her before she did anything she would regret.

"And just so you know", I said to the girls with total honesty, "I completely agree with you."

And then I dragged Lily away.


The last class of the day was at midnight and it was Astronomy. Someone tried to discreetly shoot a hex at me as I walked across the classroom and as soon as my butt hit the chair, Elizabeth turned around and said to me, "But I don't understand. You've been held back, haven't you? So how could you possibly be a Champion? That doesn't make any sense."

"You're right, it doesn't make any sense," I told her, hoping she'd realize that I hadn't been held back.

But instead she said, "So, wait, are you saying they've made a mistake? The Goblet wasn't supposed to choose you at all?"

"Look," I said. "I think you're a little bit confused. I'm not-"

But just then, Professor Collins walked in, and I immediately shut up, not wanting to get another detention. His gaze immediately landed on me and he gave me the single most disapproving look ever before continuing on with his lecture on Neptune.

When class ended, I headed out the door, handing Professor Collins my notes when Regulus caught my eye. He was mouthing a word to me: "Stay".

Therefore, as soon as I exited, I entered into the girl's lavatory on that floor and waited a few minutes before quietly re-entering the Astronomy Classroom.

He was at the window, looking out, when he realized I was there.

He gave me a small, crooked smile before walking over to me.

We quietly sat down at a desk side-by-side, as though we were in class.

"How are you feeling?" he asked me.

"I'm not sure, as over three-quarters of the school seems determined to hate me," I responded. I tried to play it off as a joke, but he could sense that I really felt that way, and he took me seriously when he responded.

"I know the feeling," he said.

That's right. He's a Slytherin. He must feel like this every day.

"Are you worried?" he asked quietly.

"Of course. I know I'm not ready for this," I answered.

"How do you 'know' that?" Regulus asked not meanly, but curiously. "You haven't done it yet."

I paused for a moment before replying, "I'm not a champion."

"No, you're a survivor," Regulus said firmly. "And I think survivors are more dangerous than champions."

My initial reaction was to reject his words, but as they sunk in, I found myself slowly accepting them.

"On another note, I'm not sure you'll survive this class. Collins really seems to have it out for you," Regulus said, smirking a little. He looked so much like his brother when he did that.

"Yeah," I said a little less enthusiastically. "I've never seen someone so determined to drill education into our heads. He'll end up like Binns; not even realizing his own death and continue droning on, handing out detentions."

Regulus laughed. "Yeah, except he's only staying the one year. What rotten luck, for you to take Astronomy this year."

"Especially with sixth years, excluding you," I groaned. "There's this one Gryffindor girl who asked me how I could possibly be a Champion if I had been held back a year."

Regulus smirked again. "Yeah, well, you Gryffindors have a flair for being unobservant."

"Except for you," he said, and turned to look at me. I allowed myself to look back at him, to allow my gaze to linger...

"What?" he asked me in response to my gaze.

"Nothing," I said, looking away.

"Raylynx, we have so little time together. Can we not spend it hiding things from each other? Because we do that the rest of time, and we'll probably do it for the rest of our lives…" His voice was heavy with honesty, weighted with burden.

"I was just thinking how much you look like your brother sometimes," I said, unable to meet his eyes.

"Sirius." Regulus said solemnly. "He's my brother, isn't it? Sometimes I forgot. It's easier to forget."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, thinking of my own brother, Jamie, still sleeping at St. Mungo's. "How could you forget? He's alive and he goes to Hogwarts…"

"I know, but if I start to think about how he completely threw away every thought of responsibility, how he failed to think ahead in any way, it angers me. It makes me bitter that instead of trying to solve it together, he ran away and saved himself. Coward- but no, I can't afford to feel bitter. I'll lose myself. I nearly did, you know."

His voice lowered into a frightening whisper. "At the Quidditch World Cup, I saw him…"

So he was there. He's been killing Muggles under the name of the Dark Lord all summer, hasn't he? And yet here we are, together.

"What are you thinking?" he suddenly asked me. "Are you disgusted with me? You are, aren't you?"

I simply looked at him again, unable to organize my own mess of feelings. Is it the means that matter, or the ends?

"If you want me to go-" Regulus began, but I immediately shook my head.

Regulus seemed torn, unsure of how to comfort me. Finally, he half-stated and half-asked, "You're frightened of me still?"

Unable to lie when his gaze was so penetrating, I told him the truth, "A little."

I managed a small smile and in return, he gave me a look of infinite sorrow.


Remus' POV

"Who knew Raylynx Kingsley would become Hogwarts Champion? Even our shoddy bat of a Divination teacher Elliot couldn't manage to see that one coming," James said, scribbling his Transfiguration essay down.

It always amazed me how he could manage to talk and write at the same time. Most of the times, our quote to Prongs was, "It's a good thing you're all right-looking, cause you certainly can't walk and talk at the same time."

But here he was, scribbling down his Transfiguration essay, guaranteeing him another O whereas I was sitting there and scratching my head over and over again, trying to find that spot of utmost concentration in my head to scrape myself at least an A, at best an E on this essay.

"She didn't really seem too pleased, though, did she?" James continued, dipping his quill into the ink bottle.

Raylynx Kingsley, I thought to myself and remembered that night we had been hiding in that niche in the wall and that horrific moment when my eyes had landed on her hair, parted by her shoulder, and the tiny sliver of her neck… The full moon had only been the night before and there was no stopping the werewolf instincts that took over my sense, sharpened my senses of taste and my desire for human flesh, to bite her, to infect her… She seemed to have realized something was off and tried to subtly move away but to my terror, my own hands had tightened their grip on her arms, trapped her there… It was no wonder she had panicked and shoved me away from her. Luckily, her abrupt action took me by surprise and slapped me awake. Immediately, the guilt had come pouring in, like salt in freshly made wounds, and I had wanted to die, anything to take back those last few seconds… where I could not control myself. Where I had almost hurt her.

"At least it's not a Slytherin," Sirius said darkly, also scrawling away on a roll of parchment.

"Yeah well, I say the Goblet of Fire deserves a medal of genius, it does," James said. "All four Houses had different expectations for whose name was coming out of that Goblet. But by picking Raylynx we all got collectively played 'cause, well, none of us expected that."

"I don't understand why it's her," Sirius said bluntly. "She isn't anything special."

"She wasn't half-bad at magic when we had that snow fight," I put in my two cents despite myself, stopping my writing to comment. "Remember she created those dragons?"

"I mean, yeah, she's good at Charms and stuff," Sirius conceded, "but a champion's not supposed to be just good at soft skills, they're supposed to more worthy than anyeone else. And yet she's literally outshone by everyone around her. Meadowes, Evans, McKinnon, and Longbottom are all more talented than her."

James suddenly called, "All right, my peers, help a brother out. Somebody give me some aristocratic-sounding name I can shove in here."

"Just hyphenate two surnames and add a bunch of fancy whaddya-call-it-institutions-occupations-precipitations at the end," Sirius offered.

"Come again?" James said, confused.

"Here, like this: Reginald Renaldi Davis-Sinclair of Eton and Trinity Institutions, specializing in the field of Medical Smart-People-Only Relations in the Fourth International Wizarding Convention of 1892, also 5th Earl of Dishwater (vaguely Scottish, but a peer whose seat is located somewhere between London, England and Thurso, Scotland), and husband of the Honourable Lavinia Margaret Frances Stepford-Craig."

"Merlin, you're always the best at coming up with codswallop, Padfoot," James chuckled appreciatively. "Shall I give you a scratch behind the ear for that?"

Sirius snorted before asking, "Hey, where's Wormtail?"

"Oh," I said, pausing again. "He's trying to reason with that tetchy suit of armor on the seventh floor so we don't have to deal with it tonight."

"Oh yeah? And he didn't ask for any help? Bit dodgy, isn't it?" James said.

"I think he's just trying to prove himself," I shrugged.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I think he'll cry like a baby and beg us for help in the end," Sirius said, but his grin was loving.

He then decided he'd had quite enough of Transfiguration and stood in front of the mirror.

"You think I look a bit…scrawny?" he wondered aloud.

"Padfoot," James growled, "what did I say about using that word in front of me?"

"Oh right, sorry. I meant…er- specky?"

"Padfoot, stop it," I said, having great difficulty in not rolling my eyes.

"What, can't a Padfoot worry about his physical stature?" Sirius asked innocently.

I sighed as I set down my quill, fully distracted. I had only written six lines. Six very incoherent lines.

When Sirius shrugged and carelessly loped back to bed, looking as irrevocably handsome as ever, I took out my frustration by hurling my pillow at his head.

It made quite satisfactory contact and his face vanished in my puffy pillow.

"Mmm, Moony," Sirius said teasingly. "It smells rather good. What type of conditioner do you use?"

James snorted. "You're the only boy who uses conditioner, Padfoot."

"Well, Prongs", Sirius said, leaning back. "It had his benefits. Take Sylvia Jane two nights ago, that was a good benefit."

I groaned.

"She had the softest hair, but she agreed mine was softer. She ran her hands through my hair before she-"

"Padfoot, shut the frick frack up. We don't want to hear any more. Moony will get sick and he already does that once a month," James said, with an expression as equally disgusted as mine.

"Oh, come on, I know how repressed your imaginations are. Let me just tell you-"

"I don't like when my imagination supplies me with many a disturbing image because of your dirty life, Padfoot. Do us a favor and stop barking about," I said.

"I'm just joking. I've only ever really kissed two girls in my life. McKinnon and Blue," Sirius said, chuckling.

"I seriously doubt that," I said, throwing him a skeptical look.

"Well, the rest kissed me, so they don't count," Sirius shrugged.

"And me, you've kissed me. You initiated it," James said suddenly.

"Prongs, you idiot! That was a life-saving technique because you fell in the Black Lake and swallowed so much water you weren't breathing and I didn't have my wand!" Sirius retorted.

"Life-saving technique? Uh-huh, sounds like more codswallop to me," James said, smirking.

"It's real! It's… It's called CPR, if you must know. I learned about it in Muggle Studies," Sirius replied.

I cut across this conversation before it could result in a dare, as all arguments between the four of us essentially end up being, me usually on the receiving rather than the designating side, "So we're on at eight thirty tonight, right?"