The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet that night, despite the explosive events of the evening. Harry sat by the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames, the low hum of distant whispers surrounding him. Everyone had seen what had happened in the Great Hall, and the shock hadn't worn off. It seemed impossible that Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire—but somehow, it had.
His thoughts were spinning, the weight of everything pressing down on him. What made it worse was the heavy, uncomfortable silence between him and Ron.
Ron sat across the room, his face set in a hard, angry scowl. He hadn't spoken a word to Harry since they left the Great Hall, and Harry had no idea how to break through the wall of silence. Hermione had tried talking to him earlier, but Ron had just muttered something under his breath and stormed off.
"Harry," Hermione said softly, appearing at his side and sitting down beside him. She glanced over at Ron before leaning in closer. "You know he doesn't really think you put your name in the Goblet, right?"
Harry frowned, his stomach twisting. "He sure seems like he does."
Hermione sighed, glancing at Ron again, who was deliberately avoiding both of their gazes. "He's just… upset. He wanted a chance, you know? He probably feels like it's not fair, especially since you're younger. But he'll come around."
Harry wasn't so sure. The look on Ron's face back in the Great Hall had been more than just disappointment—it had been anger, almost betrayal. And that, more than anything else, made Harry's insides churn uncomfortably.
"I didn't even want to be part of this stupid tournament," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "Why would I even put my name in? Why can't he understand that?"
Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "I believe you, Harry. And deep down, Ron probably does too. He's just… well, you know Ron. He lets his emotions get the best of him sometimes."
"Yeah," Harry said bitterly. "He sure does."
As if on cue, Ron stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly across the stone floor. He shot a glare in Harry's direction, his jaw tight. Without a word, he stomped up the stairs toward the boys' dormitory, leaving Harry and Hermione sitting in tense silence.
Hermione sighed again. "I'll talk to him," she said gently, though she sounded as if she knew it wouldn't do much good tonight. "Just give him some time."
"Yeah, sure," Harry replied, though he couldn't hide the frustration in his voice. He appreciated Hermione's support, but Ron's anger hurt more than he wanted to admit.
After a moment, Hermione stood and headed up to the girls' dormitory, leaving Harry alone by the fire.
A week later, the sun rose slowly over Hogwarts on Saturday morning, casting long shadows across the grounds and illuminating the castle with a warm, golden glow. It was supposed to be a day off—a break from the usual routine of classes—but for Harry, there was no escaping the tension that hung thick in the air.
He had barely slept all week, his mind racing with everything that had happened. The image of his name flying out of the Goblet of Fire replayed over and over in his head, the shock of it still fresh. Worse yet, the way Ron had looked at him—hurt, angry—made his chest tighten each time he thought about it.
Harry had hoped that by morning, Ron might have cooled down. But when he woke up, Ron had already left the dormitory without a word.
It was almost midday when Harry found himself sitting in the common room with Hermione, a heavy silence between them. Most of the Gryffindors had gone outside to enjoy the crisp autumn weather, and even the common room felt oddly empty.
Hermione was reading a book—though Harry could tell she was just using it as a distraction—occasionally glancing over the top of the pages at him.
Finally, she sighed and put the book down. "You should talk to him, Harry."
Harry frowned. "Talk to him? I've tried, Hermione. He's not listening."
Hermione's brow furrowed with concern. "He'll listen eventually. Ron's just… well, you know how he is. He's upset, but he'll come around."
"I don't know," Harry muttered, feeling the familiar knot of frustration tighten in his chest. "It's not like I asked for any of this. He knows I didn't put my name in the Goblet."
"Of course he does," Hermione said gently. "But it's hard for him, too. He probably feels like he's always in the background, and with something this big… well, he's just letting his emotions get the best of him."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling more drained than ever. "I just wish he'd talk to me instead of looking at me like I did something wrong."
Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. "He will. It's just going to take him a bit of time. You know how Ron is—once he's had a chance to think it through, he'll see sense."
"Yeah, I hope so," Harry said, though he didn't sound convinced. He stood up, feeling restless. "I think I need some air. I'll be back later."
Hermione nodded, understanding. "If you need to talk, you know where to find me."
Harry offered her a small smile before leaving the common room, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. He made his way through the castle, the quiet corridors a stark contrast to the chaos of his thoughts. Outside, the fresh autumn air hit him like a cold splash of water, but it did little to ease the heaviness he felt.
Without really thinking about where he was going, Harry wandered down the familiar path toward the Black Lake. It was quiet, only the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of students laughing from across the grounds. He kicked a small stone along the path, his thoughts circling endlessly around Ron's reaction, the Goblet of Fire, and how everything had gone so horribly wrong.
By the time he reached the edge of the lake, Harry felt completely drained. He stood by the water's edge, staring out at the still surface, trying to make sense of how everything had spiraled so quickly. The quiet here was a welcome change from the bustling halls of the castle, but it did little to soothe his troubled mind.
As he stood there, lost in thought, a voice called out to him from behind.
"Couldn't stay inside either?" a melodic voice called.
"Ginny," Harry gasped, surprised. "I didn't see you there."
Ginny smiled softly and patted the spot next to her. "Really, I couldn't tell. You'll need more wits than that Mr Hogwarts champion if you want to win this tournament".
Harry hesitated for a moment, then walked over and sat beside her, the cool stone beneath him grounding him in a way that he hadn't expected.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just sat there in companionable silence, watching the water ripple slightly in the breeze. Harry felt a strange sense of relief, sitting here with Ginny. She wasn't bombarding him with questions or telling him what he should do. She was just there—and somehow, that was exactly what he needed.
After a few moments, Ginny spoke, her voice calm but firm. "Ron's being an idiot, you know."
Harry sighed.
"He's being a a total prat. He knows you didn't put your name in the Goblet."
Harry rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the weight of her words. "I know, but… it's just Ron, isn't it? He's always felt like he's got something to prove, and now… this just makes it worse."
Ginny glanced at him, her expression softening. "You always defend him, but you don't have to, Harry. It's not your fault. None of this is."
Harry shrugged. "He's my best friend. I don't want to fight with him."
"And you won't, not for long," Ginny replied confidently. "He'll come to his senses, eventually. But for now, let him stew in his jealousy if that's what he wants. He'll realize he's being ridiculous."
Harry smiled weakly, the knot in his stomach easing slightly as he leaned back on his hands, letting the cool breeze wash over him. "Thanks, Ginny. I don't know… I guess it's just hard to understand why this is happening. I didn't put my name in the Goblet. Someone else did. And now, I'm stuck."
Ginny frowned, her gaze fixed on the lake. "Someone must've done it on purpose. Whoever it was, they wanted you in the tournament for a reason—and that's what worries me."
"Yeah," Harry muttered, his chest tightening at the thought. "It doesn't feel right, does it? Whoever put my name in… they didn't do it to help me."
Ginny shook her head. "No, they didn't. But whoever they are, you'll deal with them. You always do."
Harry glanced at her, surprised by the confidence in her voice. There was no hesitation, no doubt. Just a quiet belief that made him feel steadier than he had in days.
"I don't know if I can handle this," Harry admitted, his voice quieter than he intended. "This tournament… it's dangerous. What if—"
"Stop," Ginny interrupted, her eyes locking on his. "You can handle it, Harry. You're stronger than you think. You've faced worse things than this, haven't you?"
Harry stared at her for a moment, the truth of her words sinking in. She was right. He had faced worse—Voldemort, Dementors, and all sorts of dangers. But this felt different. This wasn't something he had chosen.
Still, seeing the determination in Ginny's eyes gave him a sense of reassurance. She believed in him. And somehow, that made all the difference.
"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said softly, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen just a little.
Ginny smiled. "Hermione and I, we've got your back you know. And Ron… well, he'll come around eventually."
Harry chuckled lightly, the tension in his chest easing. "I hope so."
They sat there for a while longer. The peacefulness of the moment was a welcome break from the chaos of the last few days, and for the first time since his name had come out of the Goblet, Harry felt like things might be okay.
"You'll get through this, Harry," Ginny said quietly, leaning back on her hands and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "And when you do, we'll be here, laughing at how ridiculous this all was."
Harry smiled, feeling lighter than he had all morning. "Yeah… maybe."
After a while, Ginny broke the quiet with a small smile. "You know, I was thinking about something I asked you a while ago—about how you were able to go to Hogsmeade. How you needed permission."
Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "Yeah?" He was surprised that she would bring this up, realising he had never given her the credit she deserved for being very attuned to all that went on.
"Well," Ginny continued, "I was curious. You never said who gave you that permission. I figured it was probably Dumbledore, but… was it?"
Harry hesitated for a moment. He hadn't talked much about Sirius to anyone other than Hermione and Ron, but Ginny's quiet understanding made him feel like he could trust her with the truth. He looked out at the lake, the memories of last year flooding back.
He found himself retelling the events of the previous year with more detail than he initially planned to. She was just so easy to talk to. Her eyes just never leaving his, as if she knew he needed to get it out.
After about an hour of retelling, Ginny's expression shifted to something warm, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "He sounds like he really cares about you."
"He does," Harry said, feeling a little lighter just talking about it. "He's the closest thing I have to family—real family. The Dursleys never wanted me. Sirius… he's different. He told me once that when all this is over, we could live together."
Ginny's eyes softened at that, and she tilted her head slightly. "That sounds… nice. Like something to look forward to."
Harry smiled faintly, feeling the hope stir inside him again. "Yeah, it is. But sometimes, I worry about him. He's still a wanted man, and I know he's taking risks just keeping in touch with me."
Ginny leaned a little closer, so close he could smell a hint of sweetness on her breath. "It must be hard not knowing where he is or if he's okay. But you know he's looking out for you, right? And I bet he's proud of you."
At this, she placed her hand on top of his. At her touch a small shiver went though him and he could feel himself heat up all over.
"He'd want to hear from you, Harry. And if anyone knows what it's like to fight through something difficult, it's him."
"I'll write to him tonight," Harry said eventually, the decision settling in his mind. "He should know what's going on."
He realised then that Ginny had never moved her hand off his. He also realised that he didn't mind at all.
