The Girl Who Lived

The Celebration

Was anyone going to believe me, or would they all think I'd put myself in for the tournament? Yet how could anyone think that, when I was facing competitors who'd had three years' more magical education than he had — when he was now facing tasks that not only sounded very dangerous, but which were to be performed in front of hundreds of people? Yes, I'd thought about it . . . I'd dreamed about it . . . And sure, I had considered entering . . .
But someone else had also considered it . . . someone else had wanted me in the tournament, and had made sure i was entered. Why? To give me a treat? I didn't think so, somehow. . . .
To see me make a fool of myseld? Well, they were likely to get their wish. . . .
But to get me killed?
Was Moody just being his usual paranoid self? Couldn't someone have put my name in the goblet as a trick, a practical joke? Did anyone really want me dead?
I was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone wanted me dead, someone had wanted me dead ever since he had been a year old . . . Lord Voldemort. But how could Voldemort have ensured that my name got into the Goblet of Fire? Voldemort was supposed to be far away, in some distant country, in hiding, alone . . . feeble and powerless. . . .
I got a shock to find himself facing the Fat Lady already. I had barely noticed where my feet were carrying him. It was also a surprise to see that she was not alone in her frame. The wizened witch who had flitted into her neighbor's painting when I had joined the champions downstairs was now sitting smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before him. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at him with the keenest interest.
"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"
"Balderdash," I said dully.
"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.
"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and
she swung forward on her hinges to let me into the common room.
The blast of noise that met my ears when the portrait opened almost knocked me backward. Next thing I knew, I was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.
"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.
"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.
"I didn't," I sighed. "I don't know how —"
But Angelina had now swooped down upon me; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor —"
"We've got food, Heather, come and have some —"
"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast —"
But nobody wanted to hear that I wasn't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that I hadn't put my name in the goblet; not one single person seemed to have noticed that I wasn't at all in the mood to celebrate. . . . Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around me like a cloak. I couldn't get away; whenever I tried to sidle over to the staircase up to the dormitories, the crowd around me closed ranks, forcing another butterbeer on me, stuffing crisps and peanuts into his hands. . . . Everyone wanted to know how I had done it, how I had tricked Dumbledore's Age Line and managed to get his name into the goblet. . . .
"I didn't," I said, over and over again, "I don't know how it happened."
But for all the notice anyone took, I might just as well not have answered at all.
"I'm tired!" I bellowed finally, after nearly half an hour. "No, seriously, George — I'm going to bed —"
I wanted more than anything to find Ron, Harry, and Mione, to find a bit of sanity, but none of them seemed to be in the common room. Insisting that I needed to sleep, and almost flattening the little Creevey brothers as they attempted to waylay me at the foot of the stairs, I managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dormitory as fast as I could.
To my great relief, I found Mione was lying on her bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. She looked up when I slammed the door behind me.
"Where've you been?" Harry said.
"Oh hello," Mione smiled.
She was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin.
I suddenly became aware that I was still wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee had tied around me. I hastened to take it off, but it was knotted very tightly. Mione lay on the bed without moving, watching me struggle to remove it.
"So," she said, when I had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner. "Congratulations."
"What d'you mean, congratulations?" I asked, staring at Mione. There was definitely something wrong with the way Mione was smiling: It was more like a grimace.
"Well . . . no one else got across the Age Line," she stated. "Not even Fred and George."
"Listen," I sighed, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."
Mione raised her eyebrows. "What would they do that for?"
"I dunno," i said simply. I felt it would sound very melodramatic to say, "To kill me."
Mione's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.
"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either. . . ."
"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" i yelled, starting to feel angry.
"Yeah, okay," Mione smiled sceptically, in exactly the same sceptical tone as Cedric. "Only you were going to put your name in. Until Fred and George got beards."
I sighed. Not even Mione believed me. I just hopped out wouldn't be the same for Harry and Ron.