The opposing schools began to arrive at Hogwarts in the beginning of October. The first was Beaubatons, who arrived in a huge flying chariot pulled by five beautiful white Pegasi. The entire student congregation had stood in the grounds to watch them land, gaped in awe at the formidable Madame Maxime, and then in wonder at the students. A gorgeous blonde girl, who must have been several years older than them, had instantly caught Ron's eye, as well as several other boys'. He had watched her as if in a daze, mouth slightly ajar, until Hermione had eventually had enough, and told him sternly to sort himself out. Next, Durmstrang arrived in a majestic old battleship, which rose from the lake headed by its headmaster: Igor Karkaroff, and, to the student's excitement, Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Sneaker. When the students had realised it really was him they had become almost frantic, and Harry had even heard a girl ask her friends "do you think he'll sign my hat in lipstick?" after which the group had briefly tussled, fighting over the makeup.

Once the foreign students had settled in, all the schools gathered in the Great Hall, which had been furiously cleaned and decorated in welcome. The floor was several shades lighter than it was usually, having had the dirt that had been stamped into it by generations of students rigorously removes, and the tables gleamed with a shine to match the counter tops in Aunt Petunia's kitchen. As they walked into the Hall, Harry noticed that a great, golden - Harry didn't quite know how to describe it – box of some sort had been placed in the centre of the front of the hall. It must have been almost seven feet tall, and as they neared it, Harry could make out precious stones adorning the sides of it. Dumbledore stood at his chair at the teacher's table and waited patiently for all the students to be seated before beginning to speak.

"Welcome, welcome," said Dumbledore, arms outstretched in greeting, "Welcome to all our guests. I trust you have settled in well, and I hope that you will find Hogwarts to be a comfortable and friendly home over the next year and that you may all enjoy our company. Now, you must be hungry after your travelling. Please, eat up!"

The feast appeared, as always, on the plates in front of the students, eliciting sharp intakes of breath from several of the Beaubatons girls. The house elves had truly outdone themselves in the presence of guests, and the feast was the grandest Harry had yet seen. However, despite the overwhelming scent of good food, Harry's mind, and many of the other student's, was still on the golden case at the front of the hall.

"Hey, Ron, Hermione? What do you reckon that is?" Harry gestured towards the case. Ron seemed not to hear Harry. He was staring at the Ravenclaw table, where the Beaubatons were eating. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and spoke to Harry.

"Well, it's probably something to do with the Triwizard Tournament, looking at the timing and all."

"So, what? Something to do with the tasks?"

"I don't know everything, Harry. I expect we'll find out soon, though."

Sure enough, when the feast was over and everyone was sufficiently stuffed, Dumbledore stood once again and walked towards the golden case.

"I'm sure many of you will have been wondering what this contraption is, and I feel it is now time that I put you all out of your misery. I am certain you have all also pondered the method we shall use to select the champion from each school." Whispers from the students seemed to indicate yes. "Well, I proudly introduce you to our perfect, unbiased judge, the selector of the Triwizard Champions: the Goblet of Fire!"

Dumbledore raised his wand and lightly tapped the case on its summit, then stood back with his usual knowing smile. The students watched in amazement as the gold seemed to melt and fall away, revealing a large stone cup, the Goblet of Fire, standing on a stone base. Dumbledore waited until the gold had completely disintegrated before once again tapping the goblet. His face was suddenly illuminated blue by a glowing fire, magically springing from the depths of the chalice. Several students gasped.

Dumbledore once again addressed the congregation. "Those students who wish to enter need only write their name and school on a piece of paper, and place it in the Goblet. But beware, you must not do so lightly! To enter your name is to sign a binding magical contract, and if you are selected as champion, there will be no backing out, no forsaking the games. You must compete, for better or worse."

"Wicked," Fred and George said in unison down the table.

"You should all already be aware that only those of you who are over the age of seventeen can take part. To ensure this rule is not broken, I will personally draw an age line around the Goblet, to prevent younger students from entering."

Several students grumbled at this, Fred and George being the loudest to protest, but Dumbledore held up his hands for the students quieted, he continued. "We have two guests here to judge the competition, two men who organised this game and made it a reality. Please give a warm welcome to Mister Bartemius Crouch and Mister Ludo Bagman."

Two men walked onto the stage to loud applause. One was short and round, with a boyish air to him, while the other was thin with neatly combed hair and a small moustache. Harry recognised them: he had met them both at the Quidditch World Cup. Both men thanked Dumbledore, before each saying a few words. Crouch impressed upon them the safety measures that would be taken, and Bagman simply beamed and said how fun it would all be.

By the time they got back to their dormitories, everyone was exhausted. Seamus sat cross-legged on Dean's bed as usual, and the two of them spoke in low voices, probably discussing the Tournament. No one knew if they were together or not, but their togetherness had earned them much taunting from the Slytherins last year. The Gryffindor boys knew that the dorm was the only place they could be... whatever they were, and left them alone. They were used to it by now. Eventually, Seamus returned (albeit reluctantly) to his own poster, and the Gryffindor dorm fell into silence broken only by Harry and Ron's hushed conversation.

"So, what d'you reckon, Harry? If you could, would you compete?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah, you?"

"I totally would," said Ron, eyes glazed as he daydreamed. "Eternal glory? Ten thousand galleons? Count me in."

"Well, I'd rather you than me." Stated Harry. "I've had enough danger, thank you very much."

"Still, just imagine lifting that cup over your head, in front of the whole school. Imagine the girls! They'd be tripping over themselves for you!"

"Goodnight, Ron." Laughed Harry, before turning over and closing his eyes. In his mind, he saw himself lifting the cup, just as Ron had said, and saw, in the crowd, Cho Chang beaming at him, admiration in her eyes. Sleepily, Harry grinned.

0o0oo00o

Draco's heart skipped a beat as Dumbledore called the name, charred piece of paper clutched between his bony fingers.

"Harry Potter?"

People whispered frantically and heads turned, looking for Harry. Draco didn't hear them, he was thinking too hard. Why would Harry enter the competition? How could there be four champions in the Triwizard? Unbidden, anger rose in Draco's mind. Of course Potter would be the one to enter underage. Again, Dumbledore's voice rang out over the crowd.

"Harry Potter?"

Draco saw Granger give Harry a small push, prompting him to walk slowly and shakily to the top of the hall, past Dumbledore, and into the small room leading off to the back of the room. The whispering continued, but the teachers said nothing. They didn't appear to know what to do. Finally, Dumbledore exchanged a few words with McGonagall and then again addressed the students.

"The Goblet of Fire has made its decision, and a binding magical contract has been made between it and the champions. They will compete in the upcoming three tasks and face many kinds of danger in an effort to bring glory to their school, but only one shall win. Good luck to each house, and I bid all of you a very good night."

That night the Slytherins all sat in the common room, illuminated by gaslight, discussing the events of the evening. The general consensus, after the initial anger, was that this was a good thing. They could watch Diggory win the cup and bring them glory, and have the added fun of watching Potter get hurt (or, if Pansy got her wish, killed painfully). Draco, of course, went along with it as he always did. He couldn't let on that he cared about Harry; else the Slytherins might think him a blood traitor. They were still under the impression that the only reason for Draco being nice to Harry was because his father wished it, and Draco wasn't about to give them any reason to doubt it. Though he was tired, Draco sat up with Pansy and Blaise until late at night, Manimi coiled in her usual spot around his neck, her weight comforting and familiar on his shoulders. By the time they eventually retired to their dormitories Draco could barely keep his eyes open, but his mind kept spinning tiredly, thoughts blocking the sleep he always craved. Angry, Draco rose from his bed an hour after lying down and walked into the bathroom, resolving to take some potion for once and just sleep, despite how groggy he would feel the next morning. He tipped the bottle back and drank it all in one go, before tottering back to his bed and collapsing, asleep as soon as he touched the pillow.

0o00o0o0o0o

Harry said nothing. Draco said nothing back. He didn't know if there was anything to say. They wrote down the notes on the board, Harry in his legible but messy writing, Draco in practised swirls and level letters. It wasn't until it was almost the end of the lesson that Harry suddenly started to speak.

"I didn't put my name in, you know. I didn't want this."

Draco looked at him. "Harry, I know you think I'll hate you for it, but I don't mind. I mean, it was a bit poncey of you, but-"

"No, you don't get it," Harry said, irritably. "I didn't do it. I don't want to compete, and I don't want or need the winnings."

"Look, Harry, I'm sorry. But I don't see how you could be chosen without you entering your name."

"Neither do I! You think I want this... This attention? I wanted this year, just this one year, to be quiet. I wasn't going to be the centre of attention; I could just be normal for once. My best friend is ignoring me. He doesn't believe me. Everyone's giving me daggers wherever I go, the other schools don't trust me. Hermione is the only person that believes me. What's worse, I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this, because why would you care?!"

Draco stared at Harry, surprised at the outburst. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Finally, Draco turned to Harry again.

"You asked if I would help you with potions?"

Caught off guard by the off-topic question, Harry simply nodded.

"We can start today, if you'd like? It's not like you can hang out with Weasley or anything, it'll take your mind off things."

The offer appeared to take the wind out of Harry's sails and he had lost the angry look he had had a minute ago. "Okay. Bit random, but sure. How about after school ends, usual place?"

Draco smiled. "Got it."

0o0oo0o

When Harry entered the Slytherin guest room he saw that Draco had pushed the desk into the middle of the room and set out a textbook, parchment, and quills on the table.

"Wow, you've put some effort into this," Harry noted. Draco laughed a little.

"I like teaching people things, I do it a lot with the other Slytherins. Now, we need to find out what you know and what you don't, so I'm going to go through the first year potions textbook,"

Harry groaned. "Remind me why I signed up for this?"

Draco laughed again. "Because if you're ever going to pass potions well enough to be an Auror, you're going to need all the help you can get?"

"Fair enough. How did you know I wanted to be an Auror?"

"Educated guess."

"You're good at those," Observed Harry. "What should I do?"

"Just sit down, I'll ask you some questions and we'll find out how thick you are."

"How fun," Harry said, sarcastically, as he sat down in a chair across from Draco at the desk. "Hey Manimi," he added when the snake slinked over to him from the floor.

"Harry. Always a pleasure," The snake hissed in return.

Harry took a deep breath and steadied himself. He had already promised himself that he wouldn't let on how badly the other students were getting to him. Though he was careful not to show it, Harry was feeling like shit. All day people had been shunning him, either expressing their anger by ignoring him or by openly taunting him. Scarhead, Potty, countless other names rung in his ears, but worse was the stark indifference he was receiving from Ron. He hoped this might take his mind off things, but he wasn't sure it could. At least Hermione hadn't questioned it when she told her to he wanted some 'time alone', and simply gone to spend time with Ron.

The 'lesson' went well enough, with Draco asking questions and making notes on the parchment to evaluate Harry, who was surprised to see himself cheering up slightly at the menial repetitiveness of the task. When Draco finished, he placed the parchment on the desk and looked up at him.

"Well, Potter. I think I've found the source of the problem"

"And?"

"You appear to have forgotten more than half of the core potions we learned in first year. It's not surprising you can't make potions when you don't even understand what effects half the ingredients have."

"He just wrote 'he's an idiot' across the top of the page, you know," Manimi noted, in a tone that made it sound like she was laughing despite the fact she couldn't, what with being a snake and all.

"Hey, don't write that!"

"Write what? Manimi! Stop telling on me, it's really rude!"

"And writing 'he's an idiot' isn't rude at all," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Usually, he didn't mind that sort of thing – found it funny, even, but today he had had enough of people calling him names. Clearly, Draco had noticed Harry's change in mood, and he flushed a little.

"Sorry, Harry. I know you've probably had a shit day."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "You got that right."

"Well, If it makes you feel any better, I thought about what you said. And I believe you. I believe that you didn't put your own name in there. You don't seem like the sort of person to seek attention like that."

Harry looked up, surprised. Manimi gave a small shake of her head, exasperated

"Of course you didn't put your name in," she said, "I love Draco but he can be very stupid sometimes. As if you would try to get attention like that."

"How do you know me so well?" Asked Harry in parseltongue. It always confused him how accurate the snake's observations were.

"He talks about you a lot, I practically knew you before I met you. Once I did it didn't take long to get to understand how you worked."

Harry felt a little stunned, but Draco interrupted his thoughts before they got out of hand.

"Harry? You okay?"

Shaking himself mentally, Harry answered. "Yeah, I'm fine. Anyway, not that this hasn't been riveting, but are we finished or..."

"Yeah, that enough for today. I'll organise the next lesson when I can, if you still want to go ahead with them?"

"Yeah, that would be good. And thanks, Draco. You don't have to do this."

Draco shrugged as he began to gather his stuff. "I don't mind. Like I said, I like teaching. Anyway, I think you're going to need something to take your mind off things over the next few weeks. Plus, there's only two weeks left until the Polyjuice potion is ready, and we'll need to meet soon to check on it."

"Oh yeah, I'd almost forgotten about that." The potion had been stewing inconspicuously in the corner of the room for about two weeks now. "Well, thank you. I'll see you in potions?"

"See you."