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I  sat there numbly, in absolute disbelief, I had expected a lot of things, made a lot of routes this year will take me but this wasn't one.

I was aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at me but I couldn't move if someone had bothered they would realise that this is the first time since, year one I had not calculated something, since I have not thought about something, since I had not calculated about the probable possibilities. I thought about every step I take but this? This was absolutely absurd, and I for a moment was sure that I was having a nightmare.

I noticed finally coming to my senses after a few minutes that there was no applause, no cheers, nothing. 

Which was expected, as it was unheard of, 4 champions in a Triwizard Tournament.

A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at me as I sat, frozen, in my seat.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

I turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, I saw the long Gryffindor table all watching her, open mouthed.

"I didn't put my name in," I said, for a moment forgetting who I was talking to, forgetting they were not my real friends instead traitors who have been paid to just be with me, desperate for someone to believe me filled my body and I swallowed drily.

I just wanted someone to believe in me but I saw both of them stared just as blankly back.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Lyra Potter!" he called again. "Lyra! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving me a slight push.

The buzzing grew louder and louder.

After what seemed like an hour of walking, I was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon me, judging me harshly pinning me with looks.

"Well . . . through the door, Lyra," said Dumbledore.  He wasn't smiling genially as he did every time, and that made me stop for a second, why the hell isn't he smiling? Shouldn't everyone? Lyra Potter the bloody girl-who-wouldn't-die is doing just another stupid thing. He should be smiling, laughing, after all his beloved weapon will get more stronger now! 

Or maybe dead.

Dark thoughts jumbled into my brain attacking me and I walked along the table desperately trying to make my shield more stronger than I ever have to just cover the voice whispering dark things into my ears, the same voice that has been corrupting me since, a young age. 

And finally... finally when it stopped my eyes became cold. . .my forest green eyes which had touches of Hazel had sharpened and my mind was blank. I had reinforced my occlumency shields more powerful than I had ever did. They were blocking off my emotions now. Even though tendrils were escaping, it was keeping my hysteria at bay thankfully.

The faces in the portraits turned to look at me as I entered, whispering to each other.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two.

Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire.

Fleur Delacour looked around when Lyra walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair and turned her chin up in a haughty manner.

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