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"How did you two do it?" Ron asks us as we walk back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry and I stay silent, still unsure of how this happened. "Never mind. Doesn't matter. You could've let your best friend know though."

"Let you know what?" I ask, still in shock.

"You know bloody well what." He mutters. I snap myself out of my haze.

"Don't take that time with me, Ronald Weasley."

"We didn't ask for this to happen Ron." Harry interjects. "Okay? You're being stupid."

"That's me. Ron Weasley. Harry and Mia Potters stupid friend."

"We didn't put our names in that cup!" I look to Harry. "We don't want eternal glory. We just want...." I trail off. "Look, we don't know what happened tonight and we don't know why. It just did, okay?"

"Piss off." He mutters and goes up to the boys dormitories.

"What a complete arse!" I exclaim. "We don't ask for this stuff to happen!"

"You didn't put our names in the cup, did you?" Harry asks me. I look at him in shock. My own brother thinks I would betray him like that.

"You actually think that I wanted to put us in danger! Just for more fame and a thousand galleons! Why would you even ask that?"

"I don't know, Mia. Someone did. And you're a bright witch...."

"Oh, so automatically it had to be me! I told you, it wasn't me." I stomp off to the girls dormitories where I see Hermione and Ginny already in there. They look at me with wide eyes. "What? Are you two going to accuse me, too?"

"What? Accuse you?" Ginny questions.

"Of wanting eternal glory, fame and fortune! For basically signing my brother and I up for a suicide mission."

"No, no of course not." Hermione says. My mood and tone lightens.

"Oh, sorry. I just had a fight with Ron, and then Harry. I didn't mean to lash out like that. I'm sorry." I try to fight the urge to cry. All my emotions bubbling up from tonight's events. The girls run over to me and hold on to me tightly. "So, you two believe me?"

"Of course we believe you, Mia. After you saved my life a few years ago, I'd be an awful person not to." Ginny says, smirking at me.

"Mia, you're my best friend." Hermione tells me. "I'd believe you no matter what."

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The rest of the champions and I are gathered in a room. Getting our pictures taken individually and then as a group. Then a woman appears in a puff of smoke. She's well groomed and dressed colorfully.

"What charismatic quintuplets. Hello!" The five of us are stood together in a group. She walks over to us and shakes our hands. "I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the daily prophet. But of course you know that don't you. It's you we don't know, you're the news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks? What mysteries do the muscles mask? Does courage lie beneath those curls? In short, what makes a champion tick. Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers. So, who's feeling up to sharing? Mmm? Shall we start with the youngest?" She grabs into me.

"Well, actually, Harry is the youngest." I tell her. She turns to him.

"Lovely." She takes Harry by the hand into a closet.

Cedric then walks over to me. "Hello, Mia." I smile at him. "Just so you know, I don't think you and Harry put your names into the goblet of Fire."

"You're about the only one that does. I don't even think Dumbledore believes us." I say to him.

"Don't worry, others will come around."

"Thanks, Cedric." I smile at him and give him a gentle peck on the cheek. I can see him blushing. Then Victor and Fleur walk over to us.

"We believe you to, you know." Fleur says sweetly.

"Yeah, you'd have to be mad to enter the tournament as a fourth year." Victor adds.

"Thanks guys." I smile. "My own housemates don't think so, even some of my friends. My own brother thinks I put our names in."

"Oh, they will realize you didn't. All in good time." Fleur smiles and gives me a hug.

"This doesn't mean we will help you." Victor growls. "We are still competing against each other." Then he smiles at me, friendly.

I return it and then my brother and Rita pop out of the closet. She looks to me. "You're turn, dear."

She leads me into the tight closet. "Don't mind if I use the quick right quill, do you?"

"No, of course not."

"So, Amelia, sir here." I sit in a small seat across from her. "So, a mere girl of twelve..."

"I'm fourteen."

"...about to compete against four students, including your twin brother. Not only vastly more emotionally mature than yourself but have mastered spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizziest daydreams. Concerned?"

"Well, I'm not clueless. I have a few tricks up my sleeve." I say.

"Course you're not just any ordinary girl of twelve are you..."

"Fourteen."

"The story's legend. Do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you and your brother so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament?"

"No, we didn't enter."

"Course you didn't." She winks at me. "Everyone loves a rebel Mia." She giggles and looks at her quill. "Scratch that last. Speaking of your parents, were they alive, how do you think they'd feel? Proud or concerned that your attitude shows at best a pathological need for attention, at worst a psychotic deathwish."

"Excuse me." I scoff and then look at the notepad. "Hey, my eyes aren't glistening with the ghosts of my past."

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