Chapter Text
It is probably approaching curfew, but Harry couldn’t care less.
Not when his life has once again been thrown into deadly danger, courtesy of a tournament that is more of a dick-measuring contest between the three major magical schools in Europe.
Only three representatives, or champions as they called them, one from each school, is supposed to be selected by the impartial judge, the Goblet of Fire.
But somehow, his name came shooting out of the Goblet, despite having already selected three champions.
The fact that he is underaged, and he swears up and down to Merlin that he did not even step near the damn thing, goes unheard. Nobody believed him. They said that the contract is legal and binding. He will have to compete as the second Hogwarts champion, otherwise he will lose his magic forever.
It was a downhill free fall into shit from there.
Beauxbatons cried foul, as did Karkaroff. It took Dumbledore and Moody rationalising the situation for them to begrudgingly back off. Krum said nothing, as did Cedric, which was just as well as them saying that they didn’t believe him either.
Harry returned to Gryffindor tower, arriving in the midst of a raucous celebration. To his disgust, his housemates were celebrating the fact that he had somehow entered into a deadly tournament that was previously discontinued because the body count became too high. It was clear that no one believed that he didn’t do it. They were congratulating him for bypassing the age line Dumbledore set and getting selected.
He should have known that it would only get worse. When he tried to talk to Ron about this whole mess, the redhead turned on him with vicious anger. Ron tore into him, disparaging him for supposedly not telling his “best mate” how he cheated to get into the tournament. No matter how much Harry tried to reason with him, Ron was not having it, and declared their friendship over.
It was too much for Harry. He fled Gryffindor tower, running blindly through the corridors until he somehow arrived at a disused alcove. Exhausted from his sprint, Harry collapsed into the stone seat, tears falling from his eyes as he hyperventilated from a mix of sobs and panting.
It takes several minutes for his breathing to calm down, but his sobs continue. Everything has fallen apart. Once again, something happens that will most likely end with his death. Is it too much to have one ordinary year where he could just be a normal student and not have to worry about dying?
The universe hates him. It truly finds joy in tormenting him and making his life utterly miserable. Why is he fate’s whipping post? What did he do wrong to deserve such torture?
He wants to scream to the high heavens, curse them to hell and all. But he knows he will get only silence back. He knows that he will be seen as crazy, on top of being an attention-seeking harlot. Because life is never fair. It will never be fair to someone like him.
Harry’s sobs increase in volume. He doesn’t care if someone hears him. Hell, he wouldn’t even care if Snape found him, crying his eyes out like a pathetic whelp. It’s not like anyone will find him -
“Potter?”
To Be Continued.