Dangerously Close

“For God’s sake, Harry,” Hermione complained as he buzzed on with Ron about who they thought would be selected tonight as the Triwizard champions. The October wind was crisp and the sky was darkening as nighttime approached. Even I could feel the tension and flowing through the air.

“Come on, Hermione, don’t ruin the fun for them,” I said, giggling. “Seriously, they’re boys. Aren’t they supposed to be into all this sport stuff?”

Ron’s head shot up from his conversation and gasped. “The Triwizard Tournament is not a sport! It’s a tournament to determine which is the strongest, bravest of the selected competitors. A path to eternal glory,” he boasted.

I rolled my eyes. “May I point out you had no bloody idea what this was until you were explained?”

He scoffed at me and I chuckled.

“No, but seriously, pipe it down, you two. It’s annoying Hermione.”

Hermione sighed, relieved, and smiled a small smile. “Thank you, Rosalie.”

“If you don’t be quiet she’s going to get her knickers in a twist and throw a hissy fit at you,” I joked. Ron snorted and Harry clapped his hands together as he burst into laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, blushed madly and slapped my arm.

I grinned. “Oh, ‘Mione. You can’t stop the queen of pranks and taunts that easily!”

“Taunts? So who’s king of taunts, a Slytherin?”

My eyes widened and I stuck my tongue out in disgust. “Oh, bloody hell no! Change that to queen of jokes!”

Ron smirked. “Please, a cold-blooded bloke like Malfoy can taunt all he wants but Fred and George have that king’s throne taken.”

Harry and me nodded, agreeing.

“You three are so immature,” the bushy-haired girl mumbled, shaking her head.

I beamed and threw my arm around her as the double doors opened and we walked into the lightly lit room. “It’s what I do best!”

The Great Hall was exactly as it was the time me and Rayne had come to see the students put their names in. The torches were dimmed and there was a sky blue eerie glow to it. Even if the room did appear rather intimidating and creepy, the constant chatter and smiles made it feel safer and louder.

I took a seat, waving my hand at the dark haired, bucktoothed boy in front of me. “Wotcher, Neville!”

He smiled. “Hi, Rosalie.”

I remained rather silent as other Gryffindors began crowding in. Lavender Brown took the seat to my right, while Angelina stayed to my left.

I was about to make a quick comment on the continuous speaking happening around me, but the room was suddenly silenced as Dumbledore lifted his hands up in the air. The flames of the torches died down a bit more, giving the Hall a darker appearance. Eyes turned to the Headmaster as he now stood in front of the Goblet, his hands on it.

“Listen up, everyone,” his booming voice demanded, shifting all eyes to him. “The time has come to announce the three Triwizard champions, who will go through extremely dangerous and courage-needing tasks. The winner of this Tournament will not only be taking the Triwizard Cup for their school, but they will receive riches and glory beyond knowing.”

Everyone gasped and whispered in excitement as the Goblet emitted a red fire, shooting out a piece of parchment. The torn-off paper floated down and into Dumbledore’s hands.

“The Beauxbatons champion, miss Fleur Delacour!”

I watched as the table with the girls in blue dresses and hats clapped for their winner. The entire Hall cheered. A girl with rosy lips and beautiful, piercing eyes stood up, walking to the front. Her dirty blonde hair was long and straight, picked up into a high ponytail. By the dumbfounded gazes of the boys, I guessed she was partly veela. She wore a proud smile on her face, and I knew despite the fact she was chosen, she was too innocent.

After shaking the Headmaster’s and all the Professors’ hands, she followed her Headmistress, Madam Maxine, into the trophy room behind the long table.

The eagerness rose again as the chalice in the middle set of more bright crimson flames, dropping the paper.

“The Durmstrang champion,” Dumbledore started, pausing for a moment for emphasis. “Viktor Krum!”

Even though I was positive every student had seen it coming, me and the others clapped along as the buff Quidditch player grinned triumphantly and was congratulated by the teachers before being escorted back with Karkaroff to where Fleur was waiting.

A few seconds passed before the Goblet of Fire shot out the fire for one more time, the parchment flowing in the air. Professor Dumbledore caught it in his hands, read it over, and spoke up.

“The Hogwarts champion, mister Cedric Diggory!”

I turned around to see Cedric being clapped to and hugged by his friends. A guy ruffled his hair and he laughed, standing up from the table and walking to the front with a wide smile on his face. Professor Dumbledore congratulated him and the other Professors shook his hands before joined the other two in the room.

“That is it! We now have our three champions! These three students will represent their schools and will be prepared for the risky tasks they are to face! From this moment on, the Triwizard Tournament has beg-”

Our Headmaster was cut off as the Goblet let out another roaring red flare, dropping a piece of parchment. Everyone gasped and began murmuring as Dumbledore read the name and mumbled something that no one heard.

“Harry Potter,” he said a little louder, worry, anger, and fear washing his expression.

Harry sank in his seat and I gasped, snapping my head to Harry. “No, Harry. You can’t go.”

Every student eyed him as Dumbledore yelled his name one more time. Hermione pushed Harry and he stood up, shock and fear flickering in his eyes. I put two hands on my forehead. He couldn’t compete.

I could hear the calls and whispers about Harry being a cheater, how he wasn’t of age, and a bunch of other rude things. He walked over to the Professors who eyed him, and shot me another glance.

I shook my head and stood up, stomping to Dumbledore. “He can’t compete - you can’t possibly let him,” I mumbled. “He’s my younger brother, and he’s just a boy!”

He looked behind me as my voice raised, his eyes widening a bit again. I didn’t understand what was going on, until I looked behind me and the flame set off one last time, dropping yet another scrap of parchment. I glanced at the Headmaster before leaning down to pick it up. As I twiddled the paper in my thumbs and unfolded it, I dropped it in horror.

Rosalie Lily Potter. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.



The loud footsteps rushing down the stairs and into the trophy room broke the intense staring battle going on between me, Harry, and the other three champions. Dumbledore came bustling in, followed by Igor and the other Professors. Harry was suddenly pushed against the wall by the Headmaster.

“Harry! Answer me, did you put your name in the Goblet,” he asked, his voice raised and furious.

“N-No, Professor,” he choked out.

“Did you ask an older student to do it?”

“No, Professor,” he said again.

“He didn’t do it, Headmaster,” I defended, stomping my foot.

Madam Maxine walked in, her face twisted in anger as well. “But of course he is lying,” she exclaimed in her loud accent. I shot her a glare.

“He’s a boy! We can’t let him compete,” I snapped. “You can keep me in the competition but there is no way in bloody hell I’m offering my brother up as bait!”

Dumbledore’s eyes gazed at me, softening a bit, and he turned to Crouch.

“I’m not sure why your names come out of the Goblet today.”

“Well neither am I, for God’s sake,” I spat sarcastically.

Crouch shot me a look of annoyance.

“Vhat is going on,” Viktor Krum asked, his gruff Bulgarian accent showing.

“Our names, they came out of the Goblet. We’re not sure why,” Harry said, heavy breaths lacing through his words.

“There is nothing we can do. The Goblet of Fire has a magical contract. The two Potters have no choice but to compete.”

“There is no fucking way,” I shouted.

“We have nothing we can do. Not even the Ministry can break the binding. From now on, you two are Triwizard Champions.”