"So, Mudblood," Melody prompted the next morning as we got ready for breakfast. "Tell me more about these toffees you've been handing out."
Usually, Melody and Astoria slept in on weekends, but because of the Goblet of Fire, everyone wanted to get to the Great Hall early to see who would put their name in. Melody was already dressed, while I was putting my clothes on and Astoria was doing her makeup in front of her vanity.
"Um—I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered after slipping on a sweater. I wiped my hair out of my face to see that Melody was giving me a crafty grin.
"Everyone knows it was you, Mudblood," Melody drawled as she picked up a book from her bookshelf. "Who else would sabotage Slytherin instead of Gryffindor?"
"You're just lucky I didn't eat one of those candies," Astoria said as she sprayed a massive amount of hairspray onto her hair. "How embarrassing would it be if one of the Durmstrang hunkies saw me with an enlarged tongue?"
"So, Mudblood, do you have any other types of toffees?" Melody asked curiously. "Any that—oh, I don't know—kill people?"
My face contorted into a grimace of confusion. "Um—no, definitely not."
"I don't care what they do, as long as you use them all on Adrian," Ashley said as she hopped out of bed. "I will never let his huge tongue go—if only his eyebrows were still shaved—can you imagine!"
As we walked out of the Slytherin common room, many of my fellow Housemates were sending me nasty glares, particularly those who had eaten the toffees. I noticed that the candy dishes I'd set up had been smashed on the ground, and I saw a large heap of toffees in the nearest trashcan. I almost went to go retrieve them, but too many eyes were on me.
Astoria continued to gush about the Durmstrang boys as we left the common room, but I completely tuned her out as soon as I spotted the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan sneaking out of the potions classroom. None of the three Slytherin girls seemed to notice when I simply walked away.
"What are you boys doing?" I questioned, eyeing them skeptically as Lee nearly jumped at the sight of me.
"Not so loud, Lainey," George hissed.
"We've just stolen an Aging Potion from Snape," Fred told me mischievously.
I rolled my eyes dramatically at the three Gryffindors. "Mad, all of you. Dumbledore will never let you three put your names in, even if you've been aged."
"Hush up, Fitz," Fred teased, holding up the small vial of Aging Potion. "Ready, you two? Reckon we'll need about one drop each."
"Oh, I can't watch this," I said as I covered my eyes. "I don't want to be an accomplice—"
When I looked back up, I saw that Fred had apparently just taken a sip, a beaming grin on his lips. "You want a go, Fitz? I'm sure you'd win if you were chosen—"
"No bloody way! I'm thirteen. I'd need a bit more than a drop to be seventeen," I insisted as George let a small drop of the Aging Potion drip onto his tongue.
"Your loss," George said, handing the vial over to Lee, who gladly took a sip. I shook my head as the four of us made our way up toward the Great Hall.
"I can't wait to see Dumbledore's face when one of our names gets pulled out," Lee mused as we walked through the entrance hall.
"What—pure anger? I think I can wait to see that face, thanks," I retorted, my lips curved slightly. Fred glanced over at me with a wink before we swaggered into the Great Hall. I saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing over by the Gryffindor table as the entire Hall waited eagerly for someone to approach the Goblet.
"I can put your name in, if you want, Fitz," Fred joked as we approached the trio. I shook my head, laughing.
"No, that's quite all right."
"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I rolled my eyes at the three of them as Ron's face twisted in confusion.
"What?"
"The Aging Potion, dung brains," Fred replied.
"One drop each," George said, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."
"They're absolutely mental," I mumbled to Ron as Lee went on about the large sum of money they were sure to win.
Grinning broadly, Fred pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and hurried over toward the Goblet. George followed swiftly behind him, as Fred stood nervously at the tip of the age line, ready to dive in as every eye in the room fixed on him.
"Oh, I hope it doesn't kill him," Hermione moaned. "I told them—"
But, before Hermione could worry any longer, Fred had jumped into the circle, seemingly unharmed. My face gleamed with excitement as George jumped in after his twin, but the high spirits were short lived because almost immediately a loud sizzling sound erupted, and both twins went hurdling out of the circle. They landed with a thud on the cold, stone ground, and with a loud popping noise, they suddenly sprouted long, grey beards.
The Hall erupted with laughter as the twins—also laughing—got to their feet and examined their new beards.
"What do you think, Fitz?" Fred asked, stroking his beard.
"Attractive, really," I replied sarcastically through my giggles. Lee was doubled over because he was laughing so hard, and even Hermione had cracked a smile.
"Why don't you try, Lainey?" George suggested. "You'd look great with a beard."
I rolled my eyes as I walked over to the two old men. "C'mon, let's take you two to the hospital wing—"
"What's wrong, Fitz? Afraid of a little facial hair?" Fred teased as he took the end of his long beard and tried to wiggle it in my face. I flinched back, scrunching my nose in disgust.
"Ew—I don't want your old man beard in my face—c'mon," I grunted, grabbing his arm and nearly dragging him out of the Great Hall. People were still snickering as we hurried out, and Lee followed quickly behind us, howling the entire time.
"Boy—am I glad I didn't try that," he panted as we hurried up to the third floor.
"At least we know we'll still be good looking when we're old," George commented.
"All you have right now is beards—just wait until you get all wrinkly and saggy and gross," I retorted, my nose twitching in a repulsed manner.
"Well, Fitz, if the three of us don't stand a chance, who will be the champions?" Fred questioned, glancing at me sideways.
I eyed him, trying to stop my lips from curling. "What makes you think that I know?"
"Oh, come off it," George scoffed. "We know you know. You've been far too calm about all of this."
"Well, I do know, but I don't plan on telling any of you. You'll just have to wait until this evening, just like everyone else," I replied coolly. None of them seemed too pleased by my answer, but surprisingly none of them pressed on. I suppose they enjoyed the suspense of it—something I certainly missed. The moment that each of the three champions put their names in, I was given the revelation that the Goblet would choose them. However—for some odd reason—I felt the looming sense that there would be a fourth champion, although I didn't know whom. That prediction had to be wrong, though, didn't it? Only three champions could compete...
We were about to walk into the hospital wing when a Durmstrang student approached us. I recognized him from the feast the night before; he'd seemed to be one of Viktor Krum's friends, although I hadn't talked to him at all. He was acting like he knew me, though—approaching us with a stride of intent.
"You—you pranked kids with tongues last night, did you?" he asked, tilting his head lightly to the side. Like most of the Dumrstrang boys, he was tall and lean, wearing his fancy red robes. The four of us halted as he stood in front of us, almost towering over the tall Weasley twins.
"Oh—uh—er—how did you know about that?" I stammered, completely baffled. How did someone from Durmstrang know that I had pranked the Slytherins? Someone who had only been here for a day and didn't even know me—
"Heard rumors," he replied, giving me a polite nod. "Very funny—ve laughed."
I let out a girly giggle, imagining the thought of someone this manly and massive laughing over such a silly prank. Also, he was cute... Oh God, too much time spent with Astoria...
"Well—er—thanks," I managed to say as I looked up at him. "Glad you enjoyed it."
"You put your name in Goblet?" he asked curiously as I noticed the three Gryffindors stiffen. I assumed they were still bitter about not having entered the Tournament.
"No, I'm—too young," I replied, scratching my neck awkwardly.
"She's an ickle third year," Fred added, a certain spite to his tone.
"Much to young to be speaking with seventeen-year-olds," George agreed protectively.
I began to roll my eyes, but before I could, all three Gryffindors were pushing me into the hospital wing.
"Are they your grandvathers?" the Durmstrang boy asked, his face perplexed as he stared at the Weasleys' long beards.
"No, I'm her...friend," Fred retorted, also seeming slightly puzzled.
"We're all her friends," Lee corrected, eyeing Fred warily. "And we must be going."
Before I could apologize to this poor, kind Durmstrang boy, the three Gryffindors shoved me into the hospital wing, and I nearly flipped over one of the beds.
"Bloody hell—what was that about?" I demanded as I struggled to stand up straight. I turned toward the Gryffindors who were all looking at me with an expression that I'd seen far too many times on my oldest brother Garren's face. "What—you grow beards and think that you're suddenly my parents?"
"Can't have you fraternizing with the enemy, Fitz," Fred replied vigilantly.
George nodded in agreement. "Might try to wheedle Hogwarts secrets out of you—"
"Oh rubbish! I was barely even talking to that guy—that's it—that's why you care, because he's a guy," I ranted. "You probably wouldn't have cared if it were some veela from Beauxbatons, but since it was a mildly attractive male, you all get protective—"
"Knew she fancied him, Georgey," Fret muttered bitterly to his twin.
"I do not fancy him—that was the first time I've spoken with him in my life! Clearly I don't fancy him—you really think I would date someone who's four years older than me?"
"Cedric Diggory," Lee coughed loudly, wincing when I scowled at him.
I gritted my teeth impatiently. "I'm not a child, Fred—you can't stop treating me like I'm Ginny—"
"Why are you only addressing me?" Fred questioned, although from the faint smirk on his lips I could tell he knew exactly why.
"Why am I not surprised that you two tried to cross the age barrier?" Madam Pomfrey said as she hurried over toward us. "Suppose you should join the others whose beards I need to remove—"
She grabbed George first, pulling him over toward the other bearded students as Fred continued to glance at me expectantly.
"Do we really need to have the same argument that we did at the Quidditch World Cup?" I asked through my teeth. "I'm not your little sister."
"Oh, I know, Fitz. Why do you think I'm so concerned when you talk to other blokes?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but Madam Pomfrey had already grabbed Fred's arm and began to pull him away. Pursing my lips, I glanced over at Lee, who held up his hands in innocence.
"Don't look at me, I'm not getting in the middle of this."
∆
I spent the rest of the day studying in the library as Melody read in the chair across from me, although I didn't think either of us got much done. Usually her eyes were glued to her book, but today Melody seemed to be daydreaming, staring out the window with a sinister gleam on her face. I was trying to catch up in Arithmancy, but that subject was hard enough without thoughts of the Goblet of Fire running through my mind. I just knew there had to be a fourth person—but why? And who?
Melody and I met up with Ashley and Astoria in the entrance hall that evening, and they, like everyone, were extremely anxious to see who the champions would be.
"I hope one of the hot Durmstrang boys gets picked," Astoria was saying as we entered the Great Hall. "Sadly, there are a few that just aren't that good looking, and that would just be a tragedy."
"Well, I heard Adrian put his name in, and if he got picked that would really be a tragedy," Ashley said. "I mean, there's no way he will, right? He's not talented."
Melody snorted, her eyes now fully enthralled by her book. Apparently real life had become a bit too monotonic for her.
"But then if he does get picked, maybe he'll die!" she exclaimed as though she'd just had some profound revelation. "Oh—I really hope he gets picked—"
As we walked over to the Slytherin table, my eyes caught on to a redheaded Gryffindor who was over flirting with one of the brunette Beauxbatons girls. I assumed it would be Ron, since he'd been drooling all over them, but my jaw dropped when I realized that it was...Fred.
My fists clenched tightly around the ends of my sweater's sleeves as I scowled bitterly at him. I wasn't allowed to have a friendly conversation with a Durmstrang boy but he was allowed to have a boisterous flirting session with some French girl? It was infuriating—
Fred seemed to have noticed that I was glaring at him, because when his eyes met mine, he gave me a wry wink before turning back toward the girl.
"Just so beautiful, really," he flattered loudly as my veins boiled with anger. That hypocritical git—
"Mudblood—Mudblood," Anderson prompted as he tugged on my arm. "Sit your arse down—we need to have a serious chat—"
"Not now, Anderson," I growled through my gritted teeth, although he and Harper ignored me completely as they forced me into a seat at the Slytherin table. The other three girls had taken their seats, and the Great Hall was nearly full now with the blazing blue Goblet of Fire placed up at the front for all to see.
"Fitzroy—why didn't you tell me you knew who the champions would be?" Harper demanded once we'd all sat down. "I thought we were friends—"
"Well, I'm not sure when that notion was established—"
Ashley gasped dramatically. "I forgot you were psychic! Tell us who the champions are! Is it Adrian?"
"Er—no—"
"Hear that, Adrian!" Ashley called down the Slytherin table. "You're not going to get picked! Suck on that you pathetic piece of lard!"
Adrian paid no mind to his sister, however, since most of the Slytherins were ogling at him. He must have been one of the few Slytherins to actually put their name in.
"Mudblood!" Malfoy barked as he, Crabbe, and Goyle swaggered over toward the Slytherin table. The doors to the Great Hall were slowly closing now as the food for the Halloween feast appeared. I tried to pretend I was busy with my food as Malfoy stomped over and took the empty seat next to me.
"Who's it gonna be, huh?" he snapped, his angry face much too close to mine. I flinched away, leaning on Harper as I glanced snidely at him.
"I don't know what gave you the delusioned impression that I would tell you anything. And I don't understand why you're all so sure that I know—"
"Because you do know!" Ashley exclaimed adamantly. "Just give us a hint, please Lainey."
"You—maybe. Malfoy—no," I retorted flatly as I sent Malfoy a nasty scowl. His nose twitched with rage.
"But we have to know!" Ashley insisted.
"You will...after the feast," I said coolly, a sly grin forming on my lips. Malfoy violently stabbed his fork into his food, and I was grateful he hadn't decided to jab my arm...
"Just tell us, are they attractive?" Astoria questioned.
"I believe attractiveness is an individual preference," I replied smoothly. "For example, you used to find Malfoy attractive, but I'd say he's one of the most hideous things I've ever laid my eyes on."
"Oh yeah? You didn't seem to think that when you told me you liked me in Defense Against the Dark Arts last week," he said, the corners of his lips curving into a nasty smirk.
I stiffened immediately, hoping that no one else had heard his comment. I'd almost forgotten about that horrible day...
"Really, Lainey? More hideous than Vince?" Astoria questioned, pointing to Anderson.
His jaw dropped in an expression of offense. "You think I'm hideous? Then why'd you snog me last week—"
"Can someone silence his ugliness, please," Astoria injected quickly, her cheeks going pink.
Melody, still staring down at her book, let out a loud cackle that earned stares from half of the table. She didn't seem to notice, however, as she simply mused to herself, "That's pitiful..."
"Lainey," Harper hissed at me. "If you're a psychic—will I ever date Melody?"
I glanced over at him as I took a bite of food. "Er—I'm not sure. I'll let you know if I find out, though—"
"Don't listen to her," Malfoy spat, glancing around me to look at Harper. "At this rate, she'll be selling false prophecies to try to support her impoverished Muggle family."
Crabbe and Goyle chortled at this, but I was not so amused.
"Tell me, Malfoy, when have I ever made a false prediction?"
Malfoy's nostrils bulged with rage, but he couldn't seem to come up with a retort for that. For the rest of the dinner, I ate with a small, smug smile on my face.
"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announced once the feast had concluded.
"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" Ashley squealed, bouncing in her seat.
"Tell us, Mudblood," Anderson pleaded. "The suspense is eating me—"
"Calm down, Anderson, you'll know any second," I muttered, trying to focus on Dumbledore. He'd extinguished all of the candles in the Hall except for those inside of the jack-o-lanterns, making the Goblet shine blindingly.
"Fitz!" Fred called as he stood up from the Gryffindor table. Even in the dim, bluish lighting I could see the mischievous grin on his lips. "Who's it gonna be?"
I gritted my teeth, glaring hard at him as the Gryffindors began to giggle light-heartedly.
"You didn't even tell your little Weaselbee?" Malfoy scoffed, but I completely ignored him as I kept my eyes on Fred, now sitting among the amused Gryffindors. Their attention was quickly averted, however, when the flames of the Goblet turned from blue to red, emitting sparks and a fiery tongue that spit out a small piece of charred parchment. Everyone gasped as Dumbledore took the paper in his hands and held it up to the light.
"Pst, Krum," I hissed down at the Durmstrang boy as a few people shushed me. He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows as I cracked a grin. "Don't trip on your walk up there."
Krum, as well as many of the Slytherins around me, looked completely baffled as Dumbledore's voice boomed, "The champion for Durmstrang...will be Viktor Krum."
Instead of watching Krum stumble up to the front of the room, all of the Slytherins around me stared at me with wide eyes and dropped jaws.
"You—you really are psychic," Anderson blurted, completely nonplussed.
"And you really are stupid," Melody droned, still reading. Apparently all of this excitement was not exciting enough for her.
"Oh, I'm so happy!" Astoria gushed. "Viktor is just so cute! He'll be a real thrill to watch in the Tournament—"
"And he's an amazing Quidditch player! I love Quidditch!" Ashley squeaked, clapping her hands with delight.
The Hall was growing quiet again as the Goblet erupted into red flames and shot out another piece of parchment. I was staring over at Dumbledore, but he rest of the Slytherins around me seemed to have their eyes fixed in my direction.
"What—you can't wait two seconds for Dumbledore to announce the champion?" I questioned as I gazed around at all of them. They wouldn't stop staring, so I rolled my eyes and turned glance over at Crabbe. "Hey—pea-brain, you might wanna restrain Malfoy so he doesn't go darting after the veela on her way to the back room—"
"So it's the veela girl, aye?" Malfoy questioned, a crafty grin spreading across his lips. "She'll be fun to watch—"
"The champion for Beauxbatons...is Fleur Delacour!"
Every male eye ogled intently at veela-Fleur as she gracefully strutted down the aisle and toward the back room. Malfoy almost did get out of his seat, but I violently yanked him back down.
"I thought you weren't going to save me this time, Mudblood?" he sneered, eyeing me carefully.
I pursed my lips, but didn't respond; I was too busy being bombarded by the rest of the Slytherins.
"Who's next?" Anderson demanded. "Who's the Hogwarts champion?"
"Is it really not Adrian?" Ashley complained, pouting her lip. "I was hoping he'd get his ass kicked—"
"I just hope it's someone spicy," Astoria babbled. "And not another girl—I can't handle when other girls get the spotlight, it's just wrong."
"If it's a Hufflepuff I hope they die," Melody said simply.
I gritted my teeth, glaring at her even though she still refused to look up. "Don't say that—"
"So it is a Hufflepuff then?" Malfoy drawled. "Pathetic—one of those—representing our school? I should have switched to Durmstrang."
"Yeah—you really should have," I agreed spitefully.
"The Hogwarts champion...is Cedric Diggory!" Dumbledore announced, causing the Hufflepuff table to explode with cheers and applause. I watched as a beaming Cedric made his way down the aisle, receiving high fives and congratulations the entire way.
"Ooh! Lainey! It's Cedric!" Ashley bubbled frivolously as Cedric retreated into the back room.
"Lainey and Cedric went on a snogging date, Draco," Astoria announced, raising her eyebrows at Malfoy. "Did you hear?"
Malfoy's face flushed red with anger as he grumbled an incoherent response.
I was preparing to get up and leave when the Goblet suddenly went red again, and my heart stopped—the fourth champion.
Suddenly, I felt the nervous anticipation that had seized everyone else in the room. Of course I'd predicted there would be a fourth champion, but I certainly didn't know it would be—
"Harry Potter."
I gasped loudly, quickly covering my mouth with my hand as every eye turned to stare at Harry. He looked completely bewildered; his mouth gaped open as he glanced around in confusion.
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
Hermione pushed Harry along and he stumbled toward the front of the room as every eye followed him. The Hufflepuffs—who had been previously ecstatic—now wore hateful scowls, while the Beauxbatons girls began to sob loudly. Malfoy opened his mouth to shout something at Harry, but I quickly elbowed him.
"You knew, didn't you?" Malfoy growled, narrowing his eyes at me.
"I—"
"He cheated the system!" Ashley hissed fervently. "Harry Potter! Oh—oh—he plays Quidditch—and he's competing in the Tournament—why don't I date him?"
"Because he's a bloody Gryffindor," Crabbe huffed. Everyone turned to look at him as his cheeks went red. "And he's...a prat..."
"Good one, Crabbe," Malfoy said. "Taught you well, haven't I?"
"Well—that will be all for this evening," Dumbledore announced hastily once Harry had disappeared into the back room. "Back to your dormitories—chop, chop!"
Without another word, Dumbledore spun around and joined the champions while the rest of the students sat silently in the Hall, completely dumbfounded.
"You heard him, back to the common rooms!" McGonagall commanded, standing from her chair and attempting to round up the Houses.
Without their headmasters, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students straggled out of the Great Hall in a disorderly fashion. The huffing Hufflepuffs all stalked out of the Hall, sending glowering eyes at the Gryffindors. The Slytherins seemed even more dejected than usual: one of the seventh year girls was crying, while Adrian Pucey punched an angry hole in the table. I was waiting for Snape to give him a detention, but I realized that our Head of House was nowhere in sight.
As everyone was shuffling out of the Great Hall, I inconspicuously snuck up to take a peak in the Goblet. The blue flames had dissipated, and I expected it just to be an empty wooden goblet, but I was surprised to see that there was a small, charred piece of parchment lying within. My eyes darted around nervously as I stuck my hand in and pulled the small paper out. While the edges were slightly burnt, the inner part of the parchment was untouched, making the words on it completely legible.
I gasped silently as my eyes read the words, nearly dropping the slip of paper back into the Goblet. How—how could this be possible? How did this get into the Goblet? And why was it still here?
Completely horror-stricken, I scurried to the entrance hall, running into a group of the Gryffindors with flabbergasted expressions on their faces.
"Lainey—you should have told us it was Harry!" George insisted. I blinked, realizing that he was talking to me. My mind was reeling with the possibilities of the small piece of parchment crumpled in my fist.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Fred asked, a slight grin playing on his lips.
My eyes slivered with irritation. "I have nothing to say to you, Weasley."
He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Ron came grumbling by. "Bloody ridiculous! Gets his name into the Goblet and doesn't tell us how—rubbish!"
"You don't really think he could have put it in, do you?" Hermione insisted. "There's no way he'd have known how to cross that age barrier—"
"Oh come off it! You know Harry's always looking for a way to get attention—"
"Ron!" Ginny scolded. "That's not true! Did you know, Lainey? Did you know he'd get picked?"
"Know? How would she know?" Ron snapped.
I bit my lip, trying not to look into Ron's angered eyes. This didn't seem like the right time to break the news that I'd been keeping a secret from him...
"I—I didn't know, guys," I managed to say, ignoring Ron's question. "And I don't think Harry put his name in either—I would have seen it—"
"Oh rubbish!" Ron exclaimed before storming off in the other direction. Hermione let out an exasperated sigh before hurrying to catch up with him.
"C'mon Georgey, let's go get a party started in the common room," Fred said, tugging on his brother's sweater.
"Oh—are you going to invite the Beauxbatons girls?" I jabbed, my nose twitching rage fully.
"Oi, George, Fitz is about to throw a fit—"
"I am not," I contended hotly. "But I think I have every reason too—"
"C'mon, Freddy, let's get out of here before she explodes like one of our Bombastic Bombs." George raised his eyebrows at me before the two irksome twins hurried up the staircase.
"You're welcome to come to our common room party, Fitz!" Fred called down to me from the top of the stairs.
I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to respond. When I turned to Ginny, the only remaining Gryffindor, I saw that she was giggling.
"What? You think it's funny when I'm mad?" I questioned, trying not to smirk.
"No—I think it's funny that you don't know why he was flirting with that awful Beauxbatons girl," she replied, still chortling. "It's shocking you haven't realized by now."
"Realized what?" I demanded, feeling a strange sensation in my gut. I knew what Ginny was thinking—and I thought it too, but—I just couldn't afford to assume such silly things—
"See you tomorrow, Lainey," Ginny said with a wave before running up the stairs.
I took in a deep breath, trying to control the anxious shakes that threatened to take over my body. The parchment in my hand was mentally burning a hole in my brain—I just couldn't wrap my head around it...
When I got back to the Slytherin common room, many of the Slytherins had already trudged off to their dormitories, but many of the older students were still conversing gloomily on the couches. The few that lingered near the entrance were glowering at me when I arrived. Of course it had to be my five least favorite people: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Daphne.
I gave them a brief glance before speed-walking toward the dormitories. Malfoy seemed to have different plans, however, because he marched over to me, cornering me into a wall as his goons and goonettes followed with their arms crossed toughly.
"Where do you think you're going, Mudblood?" Malfoy barked as I cowered against the wall.
"I just—I just want to go to sleep, okay?"
He let out a loud, mocking laugh as the other four snickered behind him. Without warning, Malfoy whipped his wand from his pocket and held it to my nose.
"Tell us what you know, Mudblood," he demanded with a powerful tone. "You know how smutty Potter got his name into that Goblet—and I'm sure you know exactly what happened in that room afterwards—"
"I don't know anything," I insisted hastily. "I didn't know Harry was going to be one of the champions—"
"Oh shut your mouth," he droned, rolling his eyes sardonically. "You knew the others—why wouldn't you know about Potter?"
"I—I don't know," I stammered, giving a wary glance to the other four Slytherins. I'd never divulged my psychic secret to any of them, but considering they weren't confused, I assumed Malfoy had. That greasy git—
"Just spit it out!" Pansy shrilled as she drew her wand wildly. I'd never seen Pansy actually use magic before, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to.
"Fine—I knew there would be a fourth champion, but other than that, I don't know any more than you all do. I didn't know it would be Harry, and I don't know what's happening in that room. If you're so curious, why don't you ask Harry yourself?"
"Talk to Potter," Malfoy scoffed. "That's almost as bad as talking to you."
"It should be no problem, then, considering you talk to me all the time," I quipped, my eyebrows jumping jeeringly. "Bet that irks you, huh, Parkinson?"
Pansy let out a noise that crossed a scream and a growl before lifting her wand. "Espellamas!"
I ducked rapidly, barely dodging with flaming blue jet of lightning that sprung chaotically from her wand and hit the stone wall with a loud crack.
"What was that?" I exclaimed, still crouching down on the ground in fear that her wand might just explode.
"I don't know—that spell that everyone says!" she shrilled, waving her wand in a way that made everyone flinch.
"Um—Expelliarmus?" I suggested, raising my eyebrows at her.
She groaned loudly again, but I was too preoccupied to worry about Pansy's reckless magic because I'd just realized that the piece of parchment was missing. I searched frantically on the ground, hoping to find it when—
Malfoy's foot slammed hard on the ground, and I slowly looked up at him to see that a smug smirk had run across his lips.
"What do we have here, Mudblood?" he inquired, bending down to pick up the small, scorched piece of parchment from the ground. I tried to snatch it from him, but he was too quick as he stood straight to read it. The other four snoopily tried to peer over his shoulder at it, but he'd already read the words—
"Get up," he growled as I blinked up at him. His patience overcame him before I could even think, however, because he violently grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. "Move!" he roared, shoving me through the hall toward the dormitories.
"Where are you going?" Pansy whined, holding her wand at her side dejectedly.
"Crabbe—Goyle!" Malfoy barked, beckoning for them to follow as he pushed me roughly down the hall. The two goons hurried down the corridor, chasing us until we made it to their dormitory, where Malfoy violently threw me inside and slammed the door behind him.
"Uh—" I heard Crabbe blubber from the hall.
"Guard the door!" Malfoy bellowed at them before marching over toward me. I backed up clumsily, fumbling over the rug and falling right onto one of the beds. Malfoy pressed my shoulder into the mattress with one of his hands while the other one waved the parchment in my face.
"What the bloody hell, Fitzroy!" he exploded, his face burning a deep shade of red.
I opened my mouth, trying to form words, but I found that nothing would come out. Malfoy's body was nearly on top of me as he tried to keep me pinned down to the bed, and his hovering face was much too close for comfort—
"You tried to put your name in the Goblet? Are you a blithering idiot?"
"I—I didn't put my name in the Goblet—I swear—I just found it there after—"
"Oh shut your mouth, Mudblood—you're just like Potter—always trying to get attention—pathetic! I bet you and Potter put your names in together, didn't you?" he demanded, digging my shoulder deeper into the mattress.
"I didn't—and neither did Harry—I can't believe you think I'm that dumb," I ranted incredulously. "Now will you get off of me? I'm feeling extremely violated—"
"You could have been picked!" he snarled, completely ignoring me. "And then you'd be dead—surely you couldn't survive in a tournament of this ferocity—"
"Why do you even care? You hate me—you want me dead," I insisted before trying to wiggle my way out of his grasp.
He pressed more weight onto my shoulder as his lips curled cunningly. I suppressed a grunt of pain as his lusty grey eyes flickered to my parted lips. Nearly gasping when I read the intent on his face, I tried to push him away, but he seemed even more adamant on keeping me down now.
"Are you sure about that, Fitzroy?" he asked, his eyebrows twitching coercively.
"I—I don't know," I stammered, my heart pounding restlessly as I tried to squirm away. I almost thought—but no, this was Draco Malfoy, he couldn't possibly want—but he seemed like he did—
"Uh, Malfoy?" Crabbe's dull voice called from the hall. "Can we come in now?"
"We're tired," Goyle whined.
Malfoy's frisky expression hardened into anger as he gritted his teeth and released his grip on my shoulder. "Prats..." he muttered as he stood up straight.
I scrambled to my feet, hugging myself as a feeling of invasion prickled my skin.
"Get out of here, Fitzroy. Hanging around here—people my start to—" he paused, his eyes darting pensively across my face "—think things..."
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out because I didn't know what to say. The only word that could describe my feelings right now was confused.
When I got back to my dormitory, all three of my roommates were still awake, but I didn't say a word to any one of them; I merely curled up in my bed and pondered the events that had just unraveled. While I wanted to be concerned over the fact that Harry's name had been drawn from the Goblet, I couldn't help but wonder how my name had gotten in there...and why it was the only piece left.
The question that danced through my mind most prominently, however, was why I hadn't slapped Draco Malfoy for assaulting and nearly—no, he didn't nearly kiss me, did he? Even the thought was completely absurd—wasn't it...?
The events in this chapter correlate with The Goblet of Fire Chapters Sixteen and Seventeen.