Once Upon A Time | Book 1

E i g h t

When I heard Barty Crouch tell me I had to compete, it felt as though my life had fallen apart. I was terrified for my own life, worried about the kinds of hell Luke would raise, upset about all the tears my mother would shed, and scared that my father would take me out of school just to get me out of the situation.

But, I was also worried about Harry.

He had gone through enough trouble during all the years he had been at Hogwarts, but he was also my friend. I didn't want him to die any more than Ron and Hermione did.

The two of us headed to our common rooms together, silently. Well, at least until Harry broke the silence.

"D'you want me to walk you back to your common room?" He offered, his voice a bit shaky.

"You don't have to. I'm sure Ron and Hermione are waiting for you." I replied quietly.

"They can wait. I don't want you walking alone, just in case Malfoy shows up. I'm sure he'll give you hell about all of this."

"Of course he will,"

"Did you put your name in the Goblet?"

"No offense, but that is the dumbest question I've ever heard."

"Right, sorry,"

We were quiet for a moment, which caused tension to rise between us. Hopefully, Harry didn't think I was mad at him. It wasn't that. I was just afraid. There were so many things I was afraid of, but I didn't know which was worse.

"I'm really scared," I finally said, even though it was probably already obvious.

"So am I. But, we'll be okay. Hopefully, they'll make the tasks easier for us, since we're underage." Harry assured me.

"And if they don't?"

"Still, we'll be okay. Trust me."

>>>

That Monday, the five of us Champions were pulled from our classes for an interview with Rita Skeeter. Of course, there were many words that could be used to explain the woman, but I could only think of one.

Horrid.

Rita wore a reptile green outfit, with blood-red lipstick--some of which was on her teeth--, and square-framed glasses. Her cheeks were powdered heavily in pink blush, while the rest of her face was pale. On her head, sat a heap of white-blonde curls.

But, my least favorite thing about her, was the smug look plastered across her face. Clearly, she didn't plan on writing too many nice things about us in the Daily Prophet.

My interview was after Harry's.

As he walked past me, he whispered, "Good luck, she's awful."

I didn't get a chance to reply, before someone grabbed my arm, and pulled me into a cupboard. My eyes met a pair of hazel ones, behind glasses. It was Rita.

"Ah, Violet, isn't it?" She asked, giving me a small wink.

"Yeah, that's me." I muttered in reply. She grabbed my shoulders, pushing me down, so I was sitting on a small stool. Then, she took a seat in a wooden chair. Beside her head, hovered a notepad, with a green feather quill.

"Okay, Violet, we'll just get straight to the point," The blonde woman said to me. "Did you, or did you not enter--?"

"I did not put my name in the Goblet of Fire, nor did Harry." I cut her off.

She nodded, and smirked. "There's no need to be ashamed, now. Everyone loves a rebel. Pretty soon, you'll be famous, just like young Harry Potter..."

I stopped listening to her, and payed more attention to the quill, as it scribbled down notes on the notepad. 

'Young Violet Austing, age 12, already in denial. The worried look in her eyes practically screams that she did, in fact, enter her name in the Goblet of Fire. The question is: why? Is she just as attention-craving as the love of her life, Harry Potter? Perhaps she's hoping to end her life. Or, maybe she's just after the promised eternal glory. 

"You're quill is broken," I stated, making Rita frown. 

"Broken? I don't see anything wrong with it."

"It's writing lies. First, I'm turning 14 in three days, second, I didn't put my name in the Goblet, and third, I'm not in love with Harry Potter! He's my friend!"

The woman merely chuckled, and patted my head as though I were a dog. "Now, dear, my job is to pull in readers, not push them away. By telling a story about two lying teenagers, I know my audience will be quite bored. I'm simply giving them background information."

"No, you're simply lying. You have no factual evidence of anything that quill has written. What you're doing is wrong, and I'm sure you're happy with yourself. Good day!"

With that, I stormed out of the cupboard, and sank into the chair beside the one Harry had been waiting in. 

"You hate her too?" He asked, softly.

"She lied about me, Harry. She lied about both of us. We're officially doomed." I told him, sighing. "I'm going to the owlery to write to my brother. Wanna come?"

"If it means getting out of here, absolutely."