Cassia's POV

The next few days were some of the worst Harry and I had ever experienced at Hogwarts, even worse than in second year, when the majority of the school had suspected us of attacking our fellow students. What made it worse was that, this time, Ron wasn't on our side. From what Harry told me, the two of them had had a fight last night, and Ron had called him a liar. Hermione wasn't the only one who was angry with them. So was I. We tried to get them to make up, but Harry would only talk to Ron if Ron apologized to Harry for not believing him. Deep down, I knew they missed each other; they've basically been brothers since first year. Literally, the only two people who would talk to us were Hermione and Cedric. It was horrible for me. I wished this was all just a bad dream, that I could wake up and realize that it wasn't real, and I could comfort Harry and tell him it was only a nightmare. No such luck. As much as I hated it, this was real.

Shortly after lunch, Harry and I were pulled out of Potions because the champions were being interviewed for an article written in The Daily Prophet about the upcoming tournament. A picture had to be taken first. Fleur sat down, with the three boys surrounding her. Harry was basically sandwiched between Viktor and Cedric. The photographer clicked the camera, momentarily blinding me with the flash, and a woman appeared out of the smoke created from the camera being clicked. Her blonde hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"What a charismatic quartet," she said, gazing at all four champions. She walked over to them and shook their hands. "Hello. 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 juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks?" She stroked Fleur's cheek and then lightly slapped it with her fingertips, and then walked around Viktor. "What mysteries do the muscles mask?" She ruffled Cedric's hair as she came to a stop between him and Harry. "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?"

No one answered her. It seemed like they already didn't like her. And frankly, I agreed. She seemed a little snooty.

"Shall we start with the youngest?" Rita grabbed Harry. "Lovely." I followed her as she led Harry out of the room and straight to a broom cupboard. She opened the door. "Mm, this is cozy..." Is she for real?

"It's a broom cupboard," Harry deadpanned.

"Well, you should feel right at home, then," Rita said, shoving Harry in front of her. The three of us sat down on metal buckets.

"You both don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?" Rita asked.

"Oh, no." Harry shook his head.

A magic quill and notepad hovered beside her and started jotting down notes. "So tell me, Harry. Here you sit, a mere boy of twelve --" Rita trailed off. The quill was writing down everything she said, very quickly.

"Fourteen," Harry corrected. I nodded in agreement.

"-- about to compete against three students not only vastly more emotionally mature than yourself, but who've mastered spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizziest daydreams," Rita continued. She eyed us from behind her glasses. "Concerned?"

"I-I dunno. I haven't really thought about it," Harry stuttered.

"Because you're no ordinary boy of twelve, are you?" Rita said.

"Fourteen," both Harry and I told her in unison. I rolled my eyes. We're not twelve, we're teenagers, you idiot!

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

"No, I didn't enter," Harry adamantly denied.

Rita scoffed. "Of course you didn't." I saw she had a devilish look in her eyes, which I knew meant trouble. "Everyone loves a rebel, Harry." She looked over at the quill. "Scratch that last." The quill scratched out part of what it had previously been writing.

"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 death wish?" Rita asked.

Harry took a peek at her notebook. "Hey, my eyes aren't glistening with the ghosts of my past!" he protested.

Rita's eyes still had that mischievous glint in them. "I hear you're in a relationship with fellow Hogwarts champion Cedric Diggory."

"Yes." I nodded. "We've been dating for a few months now."

"And how's the relationship? Smooth sailing?" Rita inquired.

"For the most part. I wouldn't say it's perfect. We don't always agree, but we love each other," I answered.

Rita grinned at me. "You're quite the lucky girl, Cassia. Thousands of girls would kill to be in your shoes right now. Send your boyfriend in next, will you?"

I walked out of the broom cupboard, with Harry following close behind, and back into the room where my boyfriend and the other two champions were.

"That snob wants to talk to you next," I told Cedric, kissing him on the cheek.

"Oh, Merlin," Cedric muttered. We made our way down to the broom cupboard, where Rita was waiting, and were rushed inside.

The quill started writing almost immediately once we sat down. "Cedric, how does it feel to be a champion for the Triwizard Tournament?" Rita asked.

"Well, at first, I didn't really want to enter, but my father and my friends insisted on it," Cedric replied.

Rita then looked at me. "And Cassia, what were your thoughts on his decision?"

I had to squeeze Cedric's hand as I remembered the fight we'd had when he told me he was entering his name. "Well...I wasn't okay with it, because the tasks are really dangerous. I tried to talk him out of it, because I didn't want him to get hurt, or worse, and...we got into a little disagreement." I felt Cedric begin to rub circles onto my hand with his thumb to comfort me.

"Thank you," I whispered to him.

He gave my hand a loving squeeze in response.

"So, would you say that the tournament could impact your relationship further?" Rita questioned.

Now it wasn't just me who was caught off guard by this question. Cedric was taken by surprise, too, but miraculously, he was able to keep his cool. "No, I don't think it'll get in the way of us," he said confidently.

Rita's quill stopped writing. "Well, thank you both. I think I have everything I need from the three of you. Tell Miss Delacour that I'd like to see her next," she said. I don't know what she's planning on writing about Harry and Cedric, but I don't like it.

<><><><><>

Harry and I were in the Owlery, awaiting a reply to a recent letter that Harry had sent to our godfather.

Sirius,
You have no idea how hectic things have gotten lately. The Triwizard Tournament is under way and somehow, I was selected as a fourth champion! Not only that, but Cassia has to help me AND Cedric now, mainly because I'm her brother and Cedric is her boyfriend, AND a Triwizard champion alongside me. What's worse is that everyone thinks that either I entered my own name in the cup, or Cassia put it in for me. But how could we? The rule was that we had to be seventeen to enter. Please write back and tell us what you think.
-Harry

An owl neither of us had never seen before flew in and dropped Sirius' reply right into my hands. It then sat on a perch right beside Harry.

I tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter, reading it out loud. "Harry, Cassia, I couldn't risk sending Hedwig. Ever since the World Cup, the Ministry's been intercepting more and more owls, and she's too easily recognized. We need to talk. Face to face. Meet me in the Common Room at one o'clock, on Saturday night. And make sure you're both alone.
-Sirius
P.S-" I was cut off by Harry giving a small yelp of pain. I looked over at him and saw him with a bleeding finger held to his mouth. I turned back to the letter. "-The bird bites."

Harry shook his hand out. "Now he tells us?"

I playfully rolled my eyes. "You're the one who had your hand too close to the owl."

"Whatever," he muttered.

<><><><><>

On Saturday night, I kept the curtains drawn around my bed until I was absolutely sure that my roommates were asleep. After a few hours of waiting, pretending to be asleep, I pulled back one of the curtains and took a glance at Lavender Brown's alarm clock. The time read 12:45. I slipped out of my bed and crept downstairs into the common room. Harry was already there, sitting on the couch. He was holding a copy of the latest issue of The Daily Prophet. The headline on the front page read "Teenage Tragedy". I noticed Harry was looking at Rita Skeeter's Me, Myself, and I column. When I glanced at the column, I saw that it started with a section about Harry, and then there was a section about me.

Me, Myself, and I:
Harry Potter. Age 12. Suspect entrant in the Triwizard Tournament. His eyes swimming with the ghosts of his past. Competing against three students, one of which is Hogwarts heartthrob Cedric Diggory, his sister Cassia's boyfriend.
Sources say that Cassia's relationship with Diggory is a crazy one. They can be snogging one moment and at each other's throats the next.

I couldn't read any more of the column, I was so mad. That snooty lady was making up lies about Harry, and about my relationship with Cedric. Her column didn't contain even a remotely true aspect of the interviews she'd had with us. It was just garbage! I snatched the paper from Harry and ripped it to shreds, before throwing it onto the fire.

"Thanks for that," Harry thanked me.

I plopped next to him. "That woman is going to pay for what she did. Nobody messes with my brother or my relationship and gets away with it."

"Want me to help you with getting your revenge on her?" Harry offered, half joking and half serious.

"Well, they say two heads are better than one, so..." I trailed off.

Soon, we heard a loud grunt of effort coming from the fire, and then Sirius' face appeared within the burning embers.

"Sirius," Harry and I said both at once.

"I don't have much time, you two, so let me get straight to it. Did you or did you not put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Sirius asked. "And did you or did you not ask Cassia to do it for you?"

"No!" Harry and I snapped.

"Why is everyone convinced that I put it in for him?! I'm underage, too, in case they've forgotten!" I hissed.

Sirius shushed us. "I had to ask. Now tell me about this dream that the two of you shared. You mentioned Wormtail and Voldemort, but who was the third man in the room?"

"I don't know," Harry replied.

"You didn't hear a name?" Sirius asked.

I shook my head. "His name wasn't mentioned."

"Voldemort was giving him a job to do. Something important," Harry jumped in.

"And what was that?" Sirius asked.

"He wanted...Cass and I. I don't know why, but he was going to use this man to get to us," Harry explained.

I ran a hand through my long, black hair. "Both and I have been having this same dream, and we don't know why. Maybe it's because we're twins, or...I don't know."

"But, I mean, it was only a dream," Harry assumed. "Right?"

Sirius hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes...it's just a dream." His voice turned grave again. "Look, Harry, Cassia, the Death Eaters at the World Cup; one of your names rising out of the goblet of fire; these are not coincidences. Hogwarts isn't safe anymore."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, baffled.

"I'm saying the devils are inside the walls. Igor Karkaroff, he was a Death Eater, and no one -- no one stops being a Death Eater. Then there's Barty Crouch. Heart of stone. Sent his own son to Azkaban," Sirius warned us.

I pondered this in my head. "Do you think one of them put Harry's name in the goblet?"

"I haven't a clue who put your brother's name in that Goblet, Cassia, but whoever did is no friend to either of you. People die in this tournament!" Sirius told us.

"I'm not ready for this, Sirius," Harry said, growing very nervous for what was to come.

"You don't have a choice," Sirius informed him.

Just then, we heard someone open the door to one of the dormitories.

I turned around to see their shadow approaching. "Someone's coming," I warned Sirius.

"Keep your friends close," he advised us before disappearing from the fire.

Ron came down and faced us. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Heard you talking," Ron deadpanned. "Probably practicing for your next interview, I expect." He turned around and walked back up into the 4th-year boys' dorm without another word.