"The brightest flame will defeat the deathly chill of seven Decembers."
Castor and Pollux Jones, transfer students from Ilvermorny, are now attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After the unexpected death of their mother, they move t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The first thing they asked him was how he did it. How did he manage to put his name into the Goblet of Fire, and better yet, how did he manage to make the Goblet spit out his name?
Except that he didn't do any of those things.
Harry Potter was well and truly innocent of his supposed crimes. He didn't put his name in, and he certainly doesn't want to be a Hogwarts champion. He just wants to have a normal school year. Just one.
Trouble usually finds me.
His words from the previous year rang through the front of his mind louder than the bell for class. Castor and Pollux had left to walk back through the Great Hall first, leaving him to make it back to the Gryffindor common room on his own. They'd disappeared just as soon as the doors to the Great Hall were shut, though Harry couldn't tell you which direction they'd gone.
His brain felt fuzzy, and he meandered up the stairs to the Fat Lady's portrait in a haze. He doesn't even remember speaking the password, but when he stepped over the thresh hold he was met by a thunderous applause, and he jumped when he saw his entire house waiting for him.
"How did you do it?"
"Who did you ask to put your name in?"
"You're going to win, right? That'll show them we're not to be messed with!"
Harry waved them down, beginning to protest that No, I didn't put my name in, but he could tell they didn't really believe him. Instead he pushed past the crowd and made his way up the stairs to the boys' dorms, taking the steps two at a time and all but slamming the door behind him. Why does this keep happening? Why me?
Ron's curtains were closed, but not all the way, and if he looked around the bed post more closely, he could tell that Ron was scowling so deeply he wondered if his best friend was in any pain. Harry took residence on his own bed, thinking over who could have put his name in, who (else) wants him dead so badly that they would enter him illegally into a deadly tournament?
Ron scoffed from his own bed, the ginger haired boy making sure to be extra dramatic as he readjusted his position on his mattress, making sure Harry could feel the annoyance coursing through him. As if the situation wasn't tense enough.
"How did you do it?" Ron asked, scoffing again. "Nevermind. Might have let your best friend know, though?"
"Let you know what?" Harry snapped as he turned to look at Ron.
"You know bloody well what." Ron grumbled.
"I didn't ask for this to happen! Okay?" Harry threw himself down on his bed. "You're being stupid!"
"Yea, that's me! Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's Stupid Friend." The Weasley boy turned over, still muttering under his breath.
"I didn't put my name in that cup!" Harry snapped again. "I don't want eternal glory! I just wanna be..." He sighed, standing to talk to Ron, though his best friend still refused to look at him. "Look, I don't know what happened tonight, and I don't know why. It just did."
