The Slytherin common room buzzed with whispers and quiet laughter in the aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament's unexpected twist. It had been a moment that none of them would soon forget. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived—who could barely scrape by in his classes and seemed more preoccupied with pranks than actual skill—had somehow gotten his name pulled from the Goblet of Fire, despite the clear rules against it.

Hermione sat in her usual chair by the fireplace, her book open in her lap but ignored for now. Her eyes wandered over the faces of her housemates as they smirked and sneered, exchanging biting comments about the so-called Chosen One. The air in the Slytherin common room was thick with disdain, and Hermione couldn't help but feel the tension between her own private thoughts and the collective mindset of her house. She had been a part of this world long enough to understand the social dynamics, but Harry and Ron's recent attempts at pranking Draco and his gang had made things personal. For Draco, at least.

"Did you see his face when they announced it?" Blaise Zabini said, his lips curled into a mocking grin. "He looked like he wanted to sink through the floor."

Pansy Parkinson giggled beside him. "As if he hasn't already gotten enough attention. But no, now Harry Potter has to be the youngest champion, doesn't he?"

Draco, lounging lazily on the couch with an arm draped over the back, smirked in agreement. "It's obvious he rigged it somehow. Think about it—Potter's been living off that ridiculous scar of his for years. Can't stand the idea of someone else getting the spotlight."

His voice was full of contempt, though Hermione could detect the underlying edge of frustration. Harry's name being called had clearly struck a nerve, particularly for Draco, who had been complaining for weeks about not being old enough to enter the tournament himself.

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled dumbly, agreeing with Draco without much thought. For them, ridiculing Potter was a habit as natural as breathing.

Hermione shifted in her chair, her eyes returning to the fire as she tried to focus. But it was hard to drown out the ongoing taunts from her housemates.

"It's ridiculous, isn't it?" Pansy continued, leaning in closer to Draco. "I mean, we all know he didn't have the brains to get his name in there on his own. Someone probably did it for him—probably Dumbledore himself. He loves giving Potter special treatment."

"Or maybe Weasley," Draco said with a sneer. "But let's be real, even Weasley wouldn't be able to pull something like that off. He can barely manage to keep track of his own wand."

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, but Hermione remained silent. It was hard to disagree with the general sentiment, especially when she recalled how unprepared Harry and Ron often seemed in classes. And yet, something didn't sit right with her about the whole thing.

She had grown up with Draco and had seen him at his best and worst, but lately, his jealousy toward Harry had been getting worse. The more Harry succeeded or even just stood out, the more Draco seethed. And while Hermione didn't disagree that Harry could be reckless—this stunt, whatever the real explanation behind it, was definitely reckless—she also knew him well enough to doubt that he had truly wanted to be in the tournament. After three years of classes together and their adventure together last spring, Hermione had a feeling that Harry Potter actually would have been content to sit this one out.

Draco stood and stretched, his eyes scanning the room for any further insults to hurl. "Potter's going to get himself killed in that tournament. I'd bet good money on it. Not that I'd care to see him make it past the first task."

Several Slytherins chuckled, nodding in agreement, though Hermione noticed that Draco's eyes weren't entirely cold. There was something else there, something beneath the bravado.

She finally spoke, her voice cutting through the laughter. "You think he wanted this? Honestly, I don't think even Potter's that foolish."

Draco's eyes snapped to her, as did the rest of the room's. There was a brief pause, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his expression—curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe annoyance. He didn't like it when she questioned him in front of others.

"He always wants attention," Draco said, narrowing his gaze at her. "What else would he want? That's the whole reason he came to Hogwarts in the first place—so he could play the hero and have everyone fawning over him."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe he just wants to be left alone for once."

Pansy looked between them, her gaze shifting with a gleeful curiosity. "Oh, come on, Hermione, you can't possibly think he didn't have something to do with it. That's not like you. You're always pointing out when something doesn't add up."

Hermione sighed, looking down at her book again but not seeing the words. "I'm not saying he isn't reckless or that he doesn't enjoy the attention sometimes. But this? I think it's more likely someone set him up."

Draco's jaw clenched, but he said nothing, and Hermione felt the familiar tension rise between them. They had been growing apart lately, ever since her friendship with Harry and Ron after the events with Sirius Black, Draco had grown jealous and distant, and now it seemed like the rivalry between him and Harry was more intense than ever. And then there was the awkwardness between them this summer…

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence before Blaise, sensing the tension, broke it with a dismissive wave. "Whatever happened, it's out of our hands now. He's in, and we'll just get to watch him make a fool of himself in front of the entire school."

Draco grinned at that, though his eyes flickered briefly back to Hermione, as if weighing her words. "Let's see how long The Boy Who Lived lasts when he's actually tested for once."

As the conversation shifted back to more lighthearted banter, Hermione felt a strange sense of unease settle over her. She wasn't entirely sure why she was defending Harry in this moment. Perhaps it was the fact that, in some strange way, she felt like an outsider here too—always having to prove herself, even though she had earned her place through hard work and determination. Maybe she understood Harry's struggle more than she was willing to admit, even if their paths had been different.

Draco flopped back onto the couch, his smirk firmly back in place, though he stole another glance at Hermione when he thought she wasn't looking. There was no denying that Harry's inclusion in the tournament had unsettled more than just the Gryffindors.