Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Harry was in a daze the whole way.

He wondered who wanted him dead, and who Voldemort's new henchman.

It seems like I'm really going to die this time.

Before he knew it, he had arrived in front of the fat lady.

"Ah, here comes the hero of Gryffindor!"

The fat lady smiled as she sized up Harry.

No, no.

Harry instinctively wanted to refuse.

"Still being modest? George and Fred both told me! You actually bypassed the age limit!"

Harry was pale and didn't know how to resolve the situation.

"Go back first, everyone is waiting for you."

When the fat lady saw Harry like this, she assumed he was unwell and opened the door for him without asking for a password.

As soon as Harry opened the door, he was startled by a deafening cheer.

Then a dozen hands pulled Harry directly into the common room, where the students in front of him were cheering and screaming!

"You should have told us you signed up!"

"Was it Kane who told you the method?!"

"Kane isn't telling the truth either. When we asked him before, he said he wasn't interested, but I never expected him to bring you along!"

George and Fred were talking back and forth.

"I...I didn't!"

"We've prepared some food, Harry! Come and have some!"

"I'm already full!"

"You are a hero of our college! Let's cheer!"

Everyone was cheering and making a ruckus, and no one noticed that Harry was actually very annoyed.

However, Harry couldn't get away. Every time he tried to sneak back to his dorm, the crowd would move up to him and offer him another butterbeer.

Everyone is asking him how he did it, how he managed to fool Dumbledore's age limit.

Why were other people who met the age requirement not chosen, but Harry was?

Harry could only answer again and again.

"I really don't know what happened."

At this moment, Harry especially hoped to see Ron, Hermione, or Neville; at least they should be rational enough to know that they did not become warriors voluntarily.

But for some reason, none of the three of them were here.

It took Harry half an hour to finally break free from the crowd!

When Harry opened the dormitory door, Ron and Neville were both there.

Ron sat on his bed, legs crossed, holding a copy of Quidditch Weekly.

But he was clearly not looking at it—his eyes were fixed on the cover, and he didn't even flip through it.

Neville sat on Harry's bed, fiddling with a bowl of Mibumibo, looking distracted.

Hearing the door open, the two of them looked up at the same time.

"Harry!"

Neville stood up, and Chubby nearly slipped from his grasp. "You're finally back! We've been waiting for you for over an hour—dumbledore and the others didn't give you a hard time, did they?"

"no."

Harry closed the door, leaned against it, and felt all his strength drain away. "Dumbledore, believe me."

Ron put down the magazine, but did not stand up.

He looked at Harry with a complicated expression.

Neville patted Harry's bed. "Sit down and talk. You—I mean, you really didn't sign up?"

“No.” Harry walked over, sat on his bed, put his hands on his knees, and looked down at the floor. “I swear, Neville. I’ve never put my name in the Goblet of Fire. I don’t even know what the age line looks like—I’ve never been close to it.”

"Then how did your name get in?" Ron's voice came from the other side.

Harry looked up at Ron.

Ron's expression wasn't one of accusation, but more like... hurt. The kind of hurt that says, "Why didn't you tell me?"

“Someone voted for me,” Harry said. “Dumbledore thinks so too. Someone tampered with the Goblet of Fire.”

"Who?" Ron asked.

"have no idea."

"How could you not know?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm: "Ron, I really don't know. If I knew who it was, I'd beat him up right now—whether he's a dark wizard or not."

"Then you..." Ron began, his voice lower than before, "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you wanted to sign up? I could have helped you—I'm not the kind of person who gets jealous."

Harry was stunned.

He thought he had made himself clear enough—he hadn't signed up, he didn't want to participate, and he had been framed.

But Ron's words contained no concept of "framing" at all; they only contained the concept of "you kept it from me."

"Ron," Harry said, "I didn't want to sign up."

"Then why you, and Kane? Why both of you?"

Ron's lips pressed into a thin line. He looked down at his hands, his fingers tapping unconsciously on his knees.

Neville finally mustered the courage to speak: "Ron, maybe Harry really doesn't know—"

“Neville, you don’t understand,” Ron interrupted him. “He’s not that he doesn’t know, he just doesn’t want to tell me.”

His gaze returned to Harry, and his eyes held an emotion Harry had never seen before—not anger, but disappointment.

"A thousand Galleons, Harry." Ron's voice was soft, but every word pierced Harry's heart like a needle. "A thousand Galleons. And you don't have to take the year exams. Tell me—aren't you tempted?"

"Of course I'm tempted!" Harry stood up, clenching his fists. "Who wouldn't be tempted? A thousand Galleons, no exams—but I didn't sign up! I didn't! If I had, I would have told you first! You're my friend. My first friend since coming to Hogwarts."

Over the past two years, Ron has been a true companion to him.

Although he sometimes had some prejudice against Malfoy, Harry always believed that Ron was the one who understood him best.

"Your friend?" Ron stood up, his face flushed. "Your friend would hide everything from you?"

Harry opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

"So you think I signed up, but deliberately didn't tell you, so I could show off all by myself?" Harry's voice trembled slightly.

Ron didn't answer. He turned his head and looked out at the dark night sky.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked, his voice flat, without any inflection.

"I told you, I didn't—"

"You were chosen as a hero, but you know nothing about it. Your name appears in the Goblet of Fire, but you know nothing about it. Someone wants to harm you, but you know nothing about it."

"I really don't know!" Harry's voice rose a little.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you were sleepwalking in the middle of the night and went to throw it yourself?" Ron's tone was barbed.

"Or your invisibility cloak—don't you have one? You put it on, sneak out into the foyer in the middle of the night, work with Kane, cross the age line, throw your name in, and then come back to sleep. Perfect alibi."

Harry was stunned. He hadn't expected Ron to say something like that.

"An invisibility cloak can't do that."

Harry said he tried to keep his voice steady, "The age line measures magical properties, not eyesight. It doesn't matter what you wear."

"George and Fred have already tried."

"Fine, you didn't." Ron sneered. "It was all someone else's doing. You know nothing, you're innocent. Okay, you're innocent. So what are you planning to do next? Become a warrior? Participate in a tournament? And then what? If you win, you get a thousand Galleons; if you lose, you're ridiculed. You're not at a loss—you have fame, scars, and a story. The media loves people like you. Rita Skeeter is already writing your interview, and you'll soon be on the front page of the Daily Prophet again."

Harry's blood rushed to his head. "You think I'm doing this for fame?"

"I didn't say you did it for fame. But you have to admit—you're pretty good at it. Go to sleep."

Ron abruptly pulled the curtain over to cover himself.

He had been hearing cheers outside for an hour, and he was tired and didn't want to talk to Harry anymore.

Harry looked at the other person's curtain, thinking that the other person would believe that he understood him.

Now, it seems only Hermione understands him. Harry didn't go to sleep immediately; instead, he got up to write a letter to his godfather, recounting the events of the evening.

Neville didn't want the two to continue arguing, so he covered Chuibao's mouth to prevent Chuibao from disturbing them.