An uproar like a landslide or a tsunami instantly drowned out the entire Great Hall.
The Durmstrang students pounded their fists on the tables, letting out angry roars.
The elegant smiles on the faces of the Beauxbatons girls vanished.
The Hogwarts students were also in an uproar, their suspicious and angry gazes all piercing toward the Gryffindor table.
Ron's expression was complex; he opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing.
"Go on, Harry," Hermione gave him a nudge.
Harry stood up like a marionette, every step feeling as if he were walking on cotton.
He walked through the crowd toward the staff table. The distance clearly wasn't long, yet it felt like a century had passed.
He could feel all the gazes behind him, nearly burning through his back.
He stepped through the door prepared for the Champions, shutting the clamor of the world behind him.
Inside the room, Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were standing around the fireplace.
They watched Harry enter, their expressions varying.
Cedric looked purely confused, a contemptuous sneer hung on the corner of Fleur's mouth, while Krum merely glanced at him expressionlessly.
The door was suddenly pushed open, and Karkaroff and Madame Maxime burst in furiously, followed by Dumbledore, Moody, Barty Crouch, and Snape.
"Dumbledore!" Karkaroff roared, spit flying everywhere. "What is the meaning of this? Two Champions? Hogwarts has two Champions?"
"This is absolute cheating!" Madame Maxime said loudly, her massive frame full of overbearing pressure. "I demand a re-selection!"
Dumbledore ignored them and walked straight up to Harry.
"Harry," his voice was calm but carried a heavy weight, "did you put your name into the goblet of fire yourself?"
"No!" Harry immediately retorted loudly, tilting his head up to look Dumbledore straight in the eye. "I didn't, Professor!"
"Did you ask an older student to put it in for you?" Dumbledore pressed.
"No!"
"You are absolutely lying!" Madame Maxime shrieked.
"He's lying, of course!" Karkaroff echoed.
"Silence!" a raspy voice rang out.
It was Moody. His wildly spinning magical eye stared fixedly at Harry, then scanned everyone present.
"This is clearly a conspiracy. The boy doesn't have the skill to trick Dumbledore's Age Line. Someone wanted to push him into this tournament; someone wants him dead!"
His words caused the atmosphere in the room to freeze instantly.
Mr. Barty Crouch walked over, his face pale and his mustache trembling. "We must follow the rules. The selection of the goblet of fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter... he has no choice. From tonight on, he is the fourth Champion of the Triwizard Tournament."
Rules were rules. Even if everyone knew something was fishy, once an ancient magic contract was established, it could not be changed.
Karkaroff and Madame Maxime left in anger, leaving only the Hogwarts people in the room.
Dumbledore looked at the exhausted Harry and finally just said, "Go back to your dormitory, Harry."
When Harry returned to the Gryffindor Common Room in a daze, he wasn't met with comfort and support.
The originally noisy common room fell into an eerie silence the moment he pushed open the door. Everyone turned their heads to look at him with complex gazes.
Fred and George tried to liven up the atmosphere, shouting, "Our future Champion is back!" but no one laughed.
Harry walked through the crowd toward the sofa by the fireplace. Ron was sitting there with his back to him.
"Ron?" Harry called out tentatively.
Ron stood up abruptly and turned around. His face was flushed red, and anger burned in his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he questioned, his voice trembling slightly with rage.
"Tell you what?" Harry asked blankly.
"Tell me you were going to enter!" Ron bellowed. "We're best friends! But you kept it from me, seeking glory all by yourself! How did you even do it? What way did you find to get past that Age Line?"
"I didn't!" Harry raised his voice too, his exhaustion and fear bringing him to the brink of a breakdown. "I said I didn't! Someone else put my name in!"
"Oh, really?" Ron sneered. "So now you won't even tell me the truth? Do you think I'm just in the way, that I'd hold you back?"
"What are you talking about!"
"What am I talking about? The whole school saw it! Harry Potter! The great savior! And now the Hogwarts Champion! You must be enjoying this!"
The argument between them was like a sharp sword, piercing through their years of friendship. The surrounding Gryffindors watched awkwardly; no one dared to step in.
Hermione frowned and was about to speak when Lia, beside her, stopped her.
The two were at each other's throats, but scents wouldn't lie.
Everywhere was filled with the scents of "sadness," "tension," and "confusion."
There was no sign of "harm" or "a permanent break."
Lia let go of Hermione's arm and walked straight up to the fuming Ron.
Ron's chest was still heaving with anger, but when he saw Lia come before him, he momentarily forgot what he was going to say.
Lia stood on her tiptoes and reached out to ruffle Ron's medium-length hair.
"It wasn't Harry."
Her voice was very soft but reached Ron's ears with exceptional clarity.
Ron's full-blown rage was like a balloon gently pricked by a needle; with a "pfft," it instantly deflated.
He also knew he wasn't truly angry about the tournament; he was just angry that Harry hadn't told him.
The anger on his face quickly faded, replaced by an indescribable awkwardness.
He opened his mouth, but he couldn't say another harsh word.
Hermione stepped forward quickly and pulled Lia back into her arms.
"Now is not the time for this. Harry needs friends, not accusations."
After saying that, she didn't give Ron another look. Pulling the equally stunned Harry and holding Lia—who had changed back and started nuzzling her chin—she walked straight toward the stairs to the boys' dormitory.
In the common room, only a group of staring Gryffindors remained.
The next day, the news of Harry becoming the fourth Champion spread throughout the school, and he became the target of public criticism.
The rift in friendship left him isolated even within Gryffindor.
Only the trio of Hermione and the others stood firmly by his side.
They searched for information in the most remote corner of the library, trying to find a loophole in the goblet of fire's contract.
Lia wasn't interested in those heavy books, but to help Hermione, she walked back and forth between the tall bookshelves, occasionally pulling out a few books that might be useful based on her intuition and bringing them to Hermione.
"Thanks, Lia. The books you've found are a huge help."
Hermione couldn't help but sigh in admiration as she looked at the clearly useful content in the books.
Just then, a tall figure cast a shadow over them.
Viktor Krum stood by the table, his somber gaze passing over Hermione and landing directly on Lia.
"I've heard about you," he said in his heavily accented English, his voice deep. "You are very special."
Hermione immediately became alert, quietly moving Lia closer to herself and looking at Krum with a cold gaze.
Krum completely ignored the hostility she was radiating.
His gaze remained on Lia, and he even showed a rare expression that could be called interest.
"The Yule Ball," he directly issued an invitation. "Would you like to be my partner?"
Lia, who had been lying down, looked up, her azure cat eyes full of confusion.
She didn't understand what a ball was; she just instinctively turned her head to look at Hermione, seeking instructions.
It was this action that completely ignited Hermione's gaze.
Hermione reached out, gently pinched Lia's chin, turned Lia's face toward her, and lightly bit Lia's lip.
"She's not free."
After a brief pause, she added, each word carrying weight.
"And even if she were, she's my partner."
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