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(Y/n)'s POV

The other three champions and I stood in the trophy room, the air around us heavy in anticipation as we waited for the arrival of Professor Dumbledore and the other Professors. They were supposed to discuss the tournament with us and hopefully clarify what's going to happen to Harry and I, since neither of us actually entered our names into the Goblet.

If we're lucky we can be exempt from the tournament all together and they can pull another name, though the likelihood of that happening seems fairly low in my opinion.

As I stood there and waited for what felt like forever, I leaned against the fireplace and my attention was drawn to the flames that warmed my skin. For a moment, I lost myself in thought, the crackling of the fire drowning out the conversations of the other champions. Memories of Draco came to my mind, recalling the numerous evenings we had spent in front of a fire much like this one, sharing conversations and laughter, and even a kiss or two. A pain of longing twisted in my chest, a bittersweet ache that reminded me of what I had lost—that is, if we really had something that could be considered lost.

My hand instinctively reached into my pocket to retrieve the drawing he had made for me—the simple sketch of us. I held it for a brief moment, savoring the memory, before tossing it into the fire and watching as the flames consumed it, the paper curling and blackening until it became ash. It reminded me of the letters I had watched him burn, a mystery I never really got to solve.

Suddenly, the door to the trophy room swung open with a force that startled me, and in walked Professor Dumbledore, my Mother, Karkaroff, Barry Crouch, Professor Snape, and Professor Moody. My mother emerged into the cramped space, her head nearly brushing against the chandelier as she moved, her eyes locking onto mine before shifting to Professor Dumbledore.

It only took me a second of a glance to notice; she was pissed.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" Her voice was thick with her accent.

Professor Dumbledore approached Harry directly, his demeanor calm. "Harry, there are those who believe you bewitched the Goblet to summon your name. Is that true?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir, I never even entered my name."

"Of course he's lying!" my mother interjected sharply.

"The hell he is," Professor Moody intervened, defending Harry. "The Goblet of Fire is an incredibly powerful magical artifact. Only a highly advanced Confundus Charm could deceive it, and that's magic well beyond the capabilities of any Fourth Year."

"You've obviously given this a lot of thought, Madeye," Karkaroff shot back, his tone implying he believed Moody had something to do with it.

"It was once my responsibility to think as Dark wizards do, Karkaroff. I trust you remember that," Professor Moody replied, stepping closer to Karkaroff.

Professor Dumbledore chose to ignore their outbursts, his gaze flickering to me for a second before returning to Harry. "You didn't put your name in?"

"No, sir," Harry repeated firmly.

Professor Dumbledore approached me slowly, his hands clasped behind him. "And you," he said, "you claim you didn't enter your name in the Goblet either?"

"No, sir," I replied, glancing past him at my mother. "I promise, I didn't." I spoke earnestly to both of them, hoping my mother would trust that I was telling the truth. I have never lied to her before and she knows this, so why would I possibly start now?

She broke her gaze from me and directed her anger at Professor Dumbledore. "This is your fault! Someone is trying to hurt my daughter, and if you had uncovered this last year like you all had promised, we wouldn't be facing this now!"

Professor Dumbledore kept his composure. "We cannot be certain that the curse incident and this situation are connected, Madame Maxime."

"Well of course it is, you fool," She shot back, her expression fierce, and she looked ready to lunge at him. But Professor Snape stepped in, gently placing a hand on her arm to catch her attention. He nodded toward a quiet corner of the room, and with a sigh, she followed him, though it was clear she didn't want to.

Professor Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh, his eyes shifting between Harry and me. "Despite these unfortunate events, Hogwarts requires a champion. The Goblet will not select another."

A wave of dread washed over me, sinking my heart deep into my chest. I felt nauseous. "Professor, if we have no choice, then let it be me. I can take on the role of champion, and (y/n) should not be involved at all." I looked at Harry as he spoke and felt both relief and gratitude—also a worry because I wouldn't want him to take this on either.

"That is quite brave of you, Harry, but the decision is not mine to make," he replied, turning to Barty Crouch. "Barty, I leave this matter in your hands."

Mr. Crouch, who had been standing by the fire, his eyes locked on the dancing flames, finally looked up. "The rules are unyielding. The Goblet of Fire creates a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter and Ms. Maxime have no choice. As of tonight, they are both the champions of Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament."

I stepped back, pressing my hand against my chest as my heart pounded with anxiety. This was real, and I couldn't understand why it was happening to me. Who would do this?

"(Y/n), are you—" Professor Dumbledore started to ask, but I interrupted him by raising my hand.

"Just give me a moment, please, " I replied, taking a few steps away to keep everyone from witnessing what felt like a panic attack.

As my thoughts raced, I accidentally moved closer to where Professor Snape and my mother were talking. I caught snippets of their conversation. "You begged me," my mother whispered urgently. "You begged me to send my daughter here. You said she would be safe, and now look at what's happened."

"She is safe," Professor Snape replied sharply, his voice low. I found myself hiding behind a tall trophy case, listening intently. "She will get through this tournament. You know I would never let anything happen to her. As for the curse, I'm still searching for who did it. I haven't given up."

"You better find out, and she better be okay when this is all over, or I'll—"

"What?" he interrupted, swatting her finger away from his face. "You will do nothing. You should be grateful she is even yours to worry about. If it were up to me, she would have stayed where she belonged."

She scoffed, "As if she would have been safer with—"

"Sh," he cut her off, his gaze shifting to me. I froze, my breath hitching in my throat as I realized I had been caught eavesdropping.

"(Y/n)," Professor Snape said, his voice now a mixture of annoyance and concern, "Can we help you?"

I stepped out from behind the trophy case, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment and nervousness. "I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to listen," I stammered, but what was he about to say, I would have been safer with who? Not to mention my Mother said he had begged for me to be brought here after my expulsion—why? "But what were you talking about—is there something you two aren't telling me?"

"I think it's best if you return to your room now," Snape insisted, avoiding my question entirely.

"But—"

"Now," my mother interjected, her voice sharp and commanding, leaving no room for argument.

I hope they both know I wasn't done with this conversation just yet.

"As you wish," I mumbled, making sure she caught the hint of my annoyance, "But don't think we're done here." I said loud enough for them both to hear.

🐍💚

As I made my way to the common room, I wouldn't be honest if I said I didn't shed a few tears—I did. The fear of what could happen was overwhelming. What if I ended up being one of those unlucky few who didn't make it? It's rare for someone not to survive; only a handful have ever did out of the many who have participated. Still, the thought of death being a possibility was enough to terrify me.

I quickly wiped my eyes on my robe before whispering the password, watching as the door materialized in front of me. I took a single step inside, and before I could take another, someone yanked my shirt and pulled me in. In an instant, my back hit the wall. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

It was Draco.

He glared at me, fury strong in his gaze. "I know you're angry and that you hate me right now, but we made a promise."

I glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see the room was empty. It was late, which explained the quiet, but it also meant he had been waiting for me. "Let go of me," I said, grabbing his wrist and pushing him away. He stumbled back a couple of steps, but his grip loosened.

"I'm sorry, I just—" He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I don't get why you would do this. You could die. Was it just to get back at me?"

"Not everything is about you," I said, trying to move past him. He caught my arm gently this time, stopping me. Our eyes met, and that familiar ache returned. I missed the days when looking at him gave me butterflies. "I didn't put my name in; I kept my promise. Someone else had to have done it, and I swear on everything I hold dear that it wasn't me." Not that he really deserved an explanation.

"Are you really going to go through with this? You could get hurt or worse," he said, concern clear in his eyes. His brow furrowed, and I could see the tension in his jaw as he struggled to contain his emotions. "If you didn't enter your name yourself, you should have a say in this."

"Apparently, that's not how it works. I have no choice now." I pulled away from his grip on my arm.

He watched me closely, swallowing hard as if he were trying to swallow down his own frustrations. "This is rubbish," In a sudden burst of anger, he pushed one of the tables over. It crashed to the ground, pieces scattering everywhere, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "I don't want you involved in this."

"What you want doesn't really matter," I said, stepping back toward my room. I glanced at the mess he had made, "Besides, you have someone else to think about now. Stop wasting your energy on me."

"I'm not with Pansy!" he nearly shouted, his voice rising in volume. I wouldn't be surprised if others heard him; "I don't like her. I don't even care about her, at all."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "You liked her enough to kiss her," I scoffed, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I already told you why I did that."

"Yeah and the excuse you gave was completely absurd, and you know it, Draco. Maybe I could have moved past it if, first, you had been honest with me, and second, if you hadn't kissed me just five minutes later." The thought made my stomach churn; I had Pansy on my lips. I felt like I might be sick again. "And third, if I didn't actually have real feelings for you, perhaps I could have moved on too, but here we are. As I mentioned before, this was clearly leading nowhere, so ending it was the right choice, no matter what." It felt like we were stuck in the same conversation we had in that hallway. Perhaps I needed to remind myself why I had to end things and why I couldn't let myself fall back in, no matter how tempting it might be.

He let out a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground. "(Y/n), I—" He hesitated, then looked up. "Forget it, it doesn't matter. Just try to stay alive in that tournament, okay?" He nudged my shoulder lightly as he walked past me, heading into his room and closing the door behind him.

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