The Hidden Hero

When Dumbledore called Mark Twist’s name from the parchment spat out by the Goblet of Fire, Harry sat completely still. The shock froze him in place. He felt a strange rushing sound in his ears and he suddenly felt as if he were in a dream. The Great Hall seemed telescoped, as if he were viewing it from a distance.

“Mark Twist!” Dumbledore called more loudly, looking directly at him this time. Feeling a small shove in his back, Harry stumbled to his feet and walked to the front of the Hall. The hostility in the room grew as he walked. He heard mutters of “Cheat!” “Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts champion!” “How did he get his name in the Goblet?” “Mudblood!”

It took all of Harry’s courage not to react to the insults as he passed. When he reached the front, and stood in front of the headmaster, he felt the eyes of all of the students upon him, boring into his back. He looked at the headmaster, in silent plea for an explanation. Dumbledore stared back at him, with a growing hint of anger in his eyes.

“Mark, please follow the other champions into the chamber,” he directed coldly.

Harry tried to maintain his composure as he walked out of the Hall. He breathed slowly out of his mouth, and forced himself to stand very straight. To the students and teachers watching, the boy’s lifted chin hinted of arrogance and his seeming calm suggested an assurance that came from expecting his name to issue from the Goblet.

When Harry entered the room where Viktor, Fleur and Cedric were waiting, they looked at him in puzzlement. “’ave you come to give us a message?” asked Fleur.

Harry shook his head, but did not explain. Before the other champions could ask more questions, they heard the teachers entering the room. Harry turned and faced the headmaster of Durmstrang, Igor Karkaroff, the headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madame Maxime, Professor Dumbledore, and Professors Snape, McGonagall and Moody. The Ministry officials, Crouch and Bagman, brought up the rear. Everyone was watching him with varying degrees of anger or fury.

Professor Dumbledore spoke first. Although he did not shout, Harry could tell that he was exercising control to maintain his calm. “How did you manage to get past the Age Line, Mark? And, how did you trick the Goblet into choosing you as another champion?”

Behind him, Harry heard Cedric say, “The Goblet chose Mark as a champion, too?”

Harry ignored Cedric’s outburst and responded to Dumbledore. He looked him straight in the eye and said clearly and forcefully, “I did not place my name into the Goblet. I do not wish to compete in this tournament. Someone else must have submitted my name. I did not do it.”

Dumbledore searched Harry’s face intently but did not say anything. Madame Maxime snorted in disbelief. “Of course, ’e iz lying.”

Karkaroff bit out, “Is this your way of having two champions for Hogwarts, Dumbledore?”

“I do not wish Mark to compete, Igor,” replied Dumbledore.

Barty Crouch spoke up. “We have no choice. Once the Goblet chooses a champion, the wizard selected is obligated to compete.”

“Why did you do it, Mark?” asked Professor McGonagall urgently. “Don’t you know how dangerous the tournament is?”

Harry turned to his head of house. “I…didn’t…put…my…name…in!” he enunciated slowly.

There was a brief silence while everyone stared at him. He looked around the room and realized that no one believed him. “I’m not lying!” his voice started to rise.

“Why would anyone else put your name into ze Goblet?” demanded Fleur.

“I don’t know!”

“It would take a powerful wizard to so confund the Goblet,” mused Moody. “I’m guessing they submitted Twist’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…”

“I will be lodging a complaint with the Ministry of Magic and with the International Confederation of Wizards,” threatened Karkaroff.

“You must do as you see fit, Igor,” said Dumbledore. “However, for the matter at hand, it seems clear that we must proceed with the four champions.”

“But Dumbly-dorr --, ” began Madame Maxime.

“If you have any alternative to suggest, I would be delighted to hear it,” offered the headmaster.

When no one responded, Barty Crouch called to the champions and explained that the first task was to take place on November 24 and would be designed to test their courage. Due to the time-consuming training, they would be exempt from end-of-year exams.

Then, Harry and the other champions were permitted to leave. At the door of the chamber, the boy turned back to the adults still assembled in the room, and said in a tight voice, “I did NOT put my name in the Goblet. Someone else did. I don’t know who and I don’t know why, but I don’t think it was because they liked me!” And, not waiting for a reply, he continued on his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

As he walked back to his dormitory, Harry wondered who could have placed his name in the Goblet. He still felt so shocked by the turn of events that his brain was sluggish. Maybe tomorrow he’d be able to think more clearly. Or, Ron or Hermione could help him reason this out. He didn’t believe that anyone had guessed his identity, and the Goblet hadn’t spat out the name of Harry Potter. Did that mean that, whoever had placed his name in the Goblet, had done so to harm Mark Twist, the muggleborn? If so, why? To kill him or just to cause him stress?

Mark Twist had prevented Voldemort from obtaining the Sorcerer’s Stone and had destroyed Tom Riddle’s diary and the basilisk it had controlled. Could someone have placed his name in the Goblet for these reasons? Or, was it more mundane? Did someone, like Draco Malfoy, for instance, just hate him because he was a muggleborn? But, it seemed so unlikely that a student could have figured out how to confund the Goblet of Fire. As Professor Moody had stated, it would take a very powerful wizard to have tricked the Goblet.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would write a list of every adult in this school, and maybe some of the seventh years. He would approach this logically and thoroughly. He would scrutinize the motives of each to try to determine who might have wished to put his name in the Goblet.

Harry hesitated in front of the portrait to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a breath to brace himself, he gave the Fat Lady the password and entered. The room was full of his fellow Gryffindors. Harry hesitated. The silence was deafening. They just all looked at him, waiting. Harry drew a deep breath and then said clearly, “I did not put my name in the Goblet.”

A few of the students looked angry at his denial. Ignoring him, Fred said, “You should’ve told us you’d entered.”

“How did you do it without getting a beard?” asked George eying him in irritation.

“I didn’t…”

“I don’t think it was a good idea, Mark,” said Hermione seriously. “Cedric is really popular and people will be angry that you’re taking away some of his glory.”

“I didn’t…”

“I know you’re a really good student, but do you think a fourth year really has a chance against a seventh year?” asked Neville.

“I didn’t…”

“You were always complaining that people thought you were a Dark Wizard, what with your speaking parseltongue and all. Why do this?” asked Ron, in an angry tone.

“I keep telling you all, I didn’t put my name in!” Harry shouted as loudly as he could. Finally, the other Gryffindors were silenced. They all just stared at him again until some of them, without saying another word, began to drift away. Most dropped their eyes, refusing to meet his. They still didn’t believe him!

“Ron!” called Harry. “Surely, you believe me? I wouldn’t have done something like this without telling you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I would have thought. But, then again, I would have thought you’d have told me that Harry Potter was a fake last year. You kept that a secret, too, didn’t you? Maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought.”

“I can’t believe this!” yelled Harry. “Someone puts my name into the Goblet, probably trying to kill me or at least seriously hurt me. And, instead of trying to help me find out who it is, you’re accusing me of being a liar!”

A number of their classmates listened intently to the conversation between the two boys, but were pretending to be reading or talking with each other in the corners of the room. However, Harry could feel their glances when they thought he didn’t notice them looking his way.

Hermione, who was still standing next to Ron, tried to calm down the boys, but unwittingly threw more fuel on the fire. “Why don’t we just calm down?” she asked. “It doesn’t matter who put your name into the Goblet, right? Tomorrow, we’ll speak with Dumbledore about withdrawing your name from the tournament. After all, you are under age. It is really dangerous – people got killed all the time. No one would blame you for having second thoughts.”

Harry glared at her. “I’m not having second thoughts! I never had first thoughts! I did not place my name in the Goblet!” And, he stormed up the stairs to his bedroom, where he threw himself down on his bed, and drew the four poster curtains around him for privacy. He pretended to be asleep when his roommates finally came to bed, but he lay awake for hours staring at the ceiling. He had never felt as alone in Hogwarts before. And, to think, just hours before he had never felt happier.

The dark enclosure reminded him of his cupboard at Privet Drive. Then, often hungry or in pain from some beating he had suffered, he had felt all alone in the world. He had spun fairy tale dreams of parents who would rescue him from his imprisonment. They would tell him how he was a prince, kidnapped by an evil villain, sold to the treacherous Dursleys who were masquerading as his relatives to trick him. Those dreams had come true in a way, when he had learned that he was the destined hero of the wizarding world. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would be embraced by the admiring multitudes for ridding their world of Voldemort. He clung to this belief with an almost painful intensity. It had to be true. There could be no mistake. His mother had known he was to be a hero. He would do anything to make this a reality. He had been content to wait, secure in the knowledge that he would kill the Dark Lord in time. While he might not be happy to have to hide his identity, he had known that it was a necessary precaution. And, on some level, it had felt romantic. The prince – incognito. But, he had not expected to be an outcast within his own kingdom.

*

The next few days were miserable for Harry. It seemed as if the whole school were angry at or disappointed with him. Ron was so annoyed with him that he started to avoid spending any time with Harry. Only Ginny Weasley went out of her way to show him that she still was his friend. She sat next to him at mealtimes, and spoke of inconsequential matters. Harry knew that she had a crush on him because he had saved her from Tom Riddle’s possession. Whatever the reason, Harry was glad to have someone willing to spend time with him without casting him accusatory looks (like Hermione) or peppering him with questions on how he had submitted his name into the Goblet (like Fred and George) or just generally insulting him (like almost everyone else in the school!).

Classes were a nightmare. Ron no longer wanted to sit next to him. He tried to pretend that he didn’t mind sitting by himself but he didn’t think he was fooling anyone. The teachers were snappy with him. Professor Sprout was particularly cold, which Harry thought was to be expected since she was Diggory’s head of house. But, the other teachers were also sharp with him, thinking that he had disobeyed Dumbledore and put his name into the Goblet. By learning to wait a beat before responding, Harry was able to keep his temper under control.

He had had some practice in biting his tongue during summer breaks. The restaurant owner where he was a busboy was a blustery man who berated his workers whenever he was stressed. He made up for it at other times by trying to be kind. One of the reasons Harry was always welcomed back each summer was that the restaurant had a hard time retaining employees because of the owner’s difficult nature.

Among the teachers, only Hagrid accepted Harry’s word that he hadn’t placed his own name in the Goblet. Hagrid wondered who could have placed the boy’s name in the Goblet instead and was inclined to believe that it was a practical joke by another student that had gotten out of hand. While Harry didn’t agree with Hagrid’s explanation, he knew that he would never forget the gamekeeper’s loyalty to him.

Harry continued to be suspicious of the adults around him. Someone had put his name into the Goblet. It hadn’t gotten there by itself! With plenty of time on his hands now that he was a pariah in the school, Harry spent hours in the library researching each adult on his list. The list contained the names of all of the Hogwarts teachers, with the headmaster’s name topping the chart. Also on the list were Madame Maxime and Igor Karkaroff. For good measure, Harry had thrown in the names of the Ministry officials present the night his name had come spinning out of the Goblet, Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman.

As a Triwizard champion, he was permitted access to the restricted section of the library. He poured over history books, looking for any clues that might help. He knew that Madam Pince, the librarian, viewed him with suspicion. He suspected that she reported his activities to Dumbledore.

Harry had known from his first day on the Hogwarts Express, when he had read Dumbledore’s wizard card in his first Chocolate Frog, that Dumbledore was known for his alchemy work with Nicolas Flamel, for discovering the twelve uses of dragon blood, and for his defeat of the Dark Wizard, Grindewald. Now, Harry read every book and article he could find on the headmaster. While he found much of the information interesting, he was most intrigued by the historical accounts of Dumbledore’s battle with Grindewald.

Intellectually, Harry had known, of course, that Voldemort was not the first evil villain in the world. But, somehow reading about one of his predecessors brought this truth home to Harry in a more meaningful way. He wondered whether Dumbledore had thought it was his fate to defeat Grindewald in the same way that it was his, Harry’s, fate to conquer Voldemort. Maybe they had more in common than Harry had realized. He wished that there was more information about Dumbledore’s personal life in the books.

Harry found Grindewald, himself, to be a fascinating character. He had gained power not through threats, but through promises of improving the world. Grindewald had preached that wizards were superior to muggles and it was in the best interests of the muggles themselves to have the wizards rule. “For the Greater Good.” It was Harry’s first exposure to domination through political manipulation rather than force.

Eventually, the wizarding world had realized the true horror of Grindewald’s plan to have wizards rule over the rest of the world. Then, Dumbledore had defeated Grindewald, and had been hailed as a hero. Harry smiled in grim satisfaction. He too would be hailed as a hero in time.

It was hard to believe that Dumbledore was the person who had placed Harry’s name in the Goblet. Why would he have done so? True, Harry didn’t trust Dumbledore. But, not because he thought Dumbledore was evil. On the contrary -- Dumbledore had shown himself to be a leader of the opposition to forces of darkness. But, Dumbledore didn’t necessarily have Harry’s best interests at heart.

What about the other adults? Igor Karkaroff had been reputed to be a Death Eater during Voldemort’s reign. That certainly made him a prime suspect. But, shockingly, Severus Snape had also been rumored to be a Death Eater! Whoa! Harry vowed to keep a very close eye on both of these gentlemen. He wouldn’t trust anyone completely (even Hagrid), but he didn’t really seriously suspect some of them. After all, it was hard to imagine that Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman, or Professors Moody, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick or a number of the other teachers would have submitted his name to the Goblet.

Meanwhile, at the urging of Draco Malfoy, many of the students started sporting buttons that read “Support Cedric Diggory, the REAL Hogwarts champion”. When passing Harry in the hallways or in class, when teachers weren’t looking, they would press the badge and it would flash “TWIST STINKS”. Harry tried not to let anyone see how devastating he found this.

A few days before the first task, Harry was called along with the other champions to a small classroom. First, Ollivander weighed everyone’s wands. Then, the Daily Prophet took some pictures. The reporter, Rita Skeeter, spent most of her time flirting with Viktor and Cedric. Harry was thankful that the whole proceeding seemed to go fairly smoothly. However, he realized that he had been far too optimistic when the Daily Prophet article arrived a few days later.

The paper blared the headline “Twist-ed Triwizard Tournament,” with a smaller font headline, “Muggleborn Steals Champions’ Spotlight.” With a sinking heart, Harry began reading the article.

Hogwarts seems to be becoming a hotbed of trickery and deceit. Who can forget that, only last year, Hogwarts housed the imposter claiming to be Harry Potter? And, now, the prestigious Triwizard Tournament has been infiltrated by a muggleborn, Mark Twist, who mysteriously was able to submit his name into the Goblet of Fire. He competes against the legitimate champions: the famous Seeker Viktor Krum representing Durmstrang, the lovely Beauxbaton contender, Fleur Delacour, and our own Cedric Diggory, whose father is a Ministry official. Readers may wonder how this muggleborn usurper could have been permitted to hoodwick the Goblet of Fire, under Albus Dumbledore’s very nose. Perhaps, his detractors are correct in stating that Dumbledore is becoming senile.

Classmates of Mark Twist have reported that the boy is a parseltongue, an ability known to be a trait of Dark Wizards, including, most famously, You-Know-Who. The boy has also been linked to the mysterious escape last year of Sirius Black, the notorious killer. We solemnly urge the Ministry to keep a close watch over the Triwizard Tournament. With such a competitor in its midst, we can only hope that the champions are not in danger.

Harry crumbled the paper in his hands and threw it into a fireplace. He was surprised to feel tears pool in his eyes. How could he let such a poison pen hurt him? he demanded of himself.

What should he do? He was the one in danger and yet that horrible reporter accused him of being a threat to the other champions. He! Harry Potter! He was the hero! Oh, how he wished there was someone in whom he could confide.

Harry wondered whether he should tell everyone he was really Harry Potter. Surely, this hostility would end. They would believe the Boy-Who-Lived, wouldn’t they? They would realize that he hadn’t put his name into the Goblet. But, Voldemort was regaining power. He knew it. His scar prickled almost constantly now. If he was in danger as Mark Twist, he would be even more so as Harry Potter, wouldn’t he?

Let me just get through the first task, he thought to himself. I’ll decide then. If this doesn’t improve, I’ll speak with Dumbledore. I’ll tell him who I really am and let him decide whether I should continue my masquerade. Having made the decision, Harry was surprised to find a new calm descend upon him. Having a plan made all the difference, he thought.

The weekend before the first task, Hagrid whispered to Harry during class to meet him at night, and to try not to be seen. Meeting him as requested, Hagrid led the boy in secret to a clearing to show him the dragons being prepared for the first task. It was clear that Hagrid thought the four beasts were glorious but Harry felt nothing but tremendous terror. He forced himself to concentrate as Hagrid questioned Ron’s brother, Charlie, who was one of the men handling the dragons. Charlie told Hagrid that he thought that the triwizard champions would be expected just to get past the dragons, not to fight them. Harry wondered whether he was supposed to feel grateful.

He stumbled away from the clearing. He returned to the castle in such a daze that, when he looked up at the entrance door, he wondered how he had arrived there. He didn’t recall his trip back from the dragon enclosure at all.

There were a number of students mulling around outside the castle, enjoying the mild night. A few groups deliberately turned their backs on Harry as he passed. One boy actually spat on the ground at his own feet clearly wishing he could spit at Harry instead. Harry stared at the boy in bewilderment, his eyes unfocused. But, he was distracted by the deep rumble of a voice he recognized as Viktor Krum’s.

Looking in the direction of the voice, he saw the three champions huddled together, chatting. It was almost as if his thoughts had conjured them up from thin air. Harry walked toward them, with jerky steps. When they noticed him, their eyes hardened and Fleur’s mouth pursed into disapproving lines. Harry was reminded briefly of his Aunt Petunia.

“Dragons,” he panted. “The first task is for us to get past a dragon. One for each of us.” He barely registered their looks of shock, followed by fear, before he turned and stumbled away.

He changed his mind about entering the castle. He didn’t think he could stand meeting with any more hostility at the moment. Instead, not worrying about curfew, he headed toward the Dark Lake. As he drew closer, he started to run; as if, by running, he could outdistance his fear. He arrived at the lake gasping for breath. His gasps turned into heaves. He fell to his knees and was sick behind a copse close to the water. It took some time to calm himself. But, eventually, the quiet laps of the water on the edge of the lake, and the balmy night air helped to soothe him. He wiped the wetness from his face, whether tears or perspiration, he didn’t know.

“Stop it,” he told himself sternly. “You want to be a hero, don’t you? Yet, you run scared at the first test! You don’t see Viktor, Fleur or Cedric here, do you? No. They’re scared too but they’re coping.”

“Yes,” said a small voice in his head. “But they’re three years older and they chose to be in this tournament.”

“But, I’m the one destined to be the savior,” he reminded himself. “How am I going to face Voldemort if I turn into a sniveling baby when I see a dragon? Have some pride, man!”

The cold from the ground was seeping into his bones. Reluctantly, he rose and headed back to the castle. He modified his glamour charm so that Mark Twist’s face was not puffy or blotchy. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had been distressed. It was late. He didn’t pass many students and he ignored those he met.

He ran into Professor Moody, who looked at him intently. Harry wondered if the professor could tell he had been crying. “Are you okay, Twist?” Moody asked kindly.

“Yes, sir,” said Harry softly and made to continue down the hall.

Moody laid a hand on the teenager’s shoulder, to halt his progress. “I’m here to help you, boy, anytime you want. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll talk about what’s ahead? Nothing is ever as frightening if you have someone to share your worries with.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Harry calmly. He was amazed at his own acting ability. Inside, he felt like screaming, “Help me!” But, on the outside, he maintained a steady gaze and lied, “I’m fine. But, I am tired. I better go up to bed.” And, with a tiny shrug, he dislodged Moody’s hand and continued down the corridor. He knew Moody’s eyes followed him until he turned the corner – maybe even after.

How he wished he could confide in the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. But, he couldn’t trust anyone.

*

The next morning, at breakfast, Harry watched the other champions surreptitiously. How were they handling the news that they’d be fighting dragons? While they each seemed a little quieter and more pale than usual, none of them behaved differently as far as Harry could tell. “Sure,” he thought, resentfully, “Cedric probably has an arsenal of spells he knows he can use. Fleur will just fling back her silvery hair and make the dragon her love slave. And, Krum, he’ll probably just fly past the dragon.”

Harry froze. Wait! That was a good idea! He could fly past the dragon, too. Would that be allowed? Could he take a broom? He’d have to ask Madam Hooch if he could borrow one of the school’s brooms. Maybe he could try some of them out and see which one was fastest.

Impatient to start, he abruptly got up from the table, leaving most of his breakfast untouched. He didn’t notice the curious glances he received from the other students and teachers. He spent the rest of the day practicing his flying. It was a welcome break from the unrelenting stress he had been under. When Harry rose in the air, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wished he could fly forever.

He looked into the distance, past the rolling hills, the Dark Lake, and the Forbidden Forest. What wouldn’t he give to be able to just take this broom and keep on flying. He would fly to a world where they had never heard of a Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort or Harry Potter. He would start a new life there and, someday, he’d have a wife and kids. He’d commute every day to work in some office where everyone complained about the boss. He would have the most boring life – it would be wonderful!

“Twist!” Shaken from his daydreams, Harry looked down. Madam Hooch was signaling for him to come down. Startled, Harry realized that it had gotten late. He had missed lunch and, if he didn’t hurry, would miss dinner, too. Not that he minded too much. He hated entering the Great Hall and feeling the wave of dislike directed at him.

He returned to earth and thanked Madam Hooch for letting him use the school brooms. He asked whether he could reserve one for use on Tuesday, the day of the first task. She assured him that this would be fine; she looked curious, but didn’t ask any questions.

Harry’s steps slowed as he approached the Great Hall. After the joy of flying, he couldn’t bear to face his classmates and feel the familiar knotting in his stomach. But, he was getting hungry. He had eaten very little breakfast and no lunch at all. Vaguely recalling that Fred and George had once mentioned how to enter the kitchens, Harry decided to try his luck with the house elves instead.

Harry avoided looking into anyone’s eyes as he passed them in the corridors. From time to time, he saw the flash of a “Twist Stinks” button out of the corner of his eyes. The hallways became more deserted as he neared the entrance to the kitchens. Remembering the twins’ instructions, he tickled a pear in the picture of a great fruit-bowl. It giggled and turned into a door handle. Turning the handle, Harry stepped slowly inside.

There were dozens of house elves hurrying around, preparing the dinnertime meal. Harry looked around in amazement. He hadn’t realized how elaborate the kitchens were. A huge fireplace took up almost an entire wall. Pots and pans hung everywhere. Four long wooden tables, positioned exactly beneath the four house tables above, in the Great Hall, were piled high with food, waiting to be sent up through the ceiling to their twin tables above. The hum of activity filled the room.

Harry started to back out of the room. It was so busy right now, he had no right to disturb the elves. But, before he could leave, he heard a familiar high pitched voice call his name. “Mark Twist! Sir!”

And, to his surprise, there was Dobby! The elf, looking odd in mismatched but clean clothing, was beaming at him. Harry realized how much he missed having people look at him with welcome in their eyes. “Hi, Dobby. What are you doing here?”

“Dumbledore hired me, sir! Dobby is a free elf and Dobby wants paying now. It was hard to find work but Dumbledore said Dobby could work here. Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!”

“That’s what Dumbledore offered?” asked Harry in disapproval. It didn’t sound very fair.

“No, sir. Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week and weekends off. Dobby had to bargain him down. Dobby is a free elf but Dobby isn’t wanting too much. He likes work better. Dobby has been hoping to see you, sir. Dobby has been wanting to thank you again for helping to set him free!”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Dobby. No one deserves to be abused. I know.”

Dobby looked at Harry intently. “Yes,” he said, slowly, “Dobby thinks you do know, sir.” There was an awkward silence.
“But, why are you here, sir?” asked Dobby finally.

“I can come back another time. I didn’t realize how busy it would be at dinnertime. I’m just hungry and I was hoping I could grab a small bite, perhaps. I…I didn’t want to eat in the Great Hall tonight.”

Dobby eyed him knowingly and Harry wondered if the house elves knew about the four champions. Probably. But Dobby, at least, didn’t seem to hold it against him.

“Dobby would be honored to get you food, sir. Please wait here just one moment. Dobby will return right away.”

And, within a very short time, Dobby was pressing a large sandwich into Harry’s hands and giving him a bag filled with desserts for later.

“Thank you, Dobby. I really appreciate it,” said Harry gratefully.

“Anytime, sir. Mark Twist is always welcome here. You are a great friend to house elves.”

Harry smiled and gulped deeply. After all the hatred directed his way recently, it was warming to see the look of adoration on Dobby’s face. Harry backed out of the room quickly, before he disgraced himself by crying. “I’ll turn into a watering can, if I don’t watch it,” he thought. “A simple thank you from Dobby and I’m about to start bawling. Pathetic.”

But, Harry’s spirits lifted considerably after seeing Dobby. He was able to ignore the continued ridicule from his fellow students over the next few days by reminding himself that, one day, they would look at him with admiration, the way Dobby did.

Feeling slightly better, Harry changed his approach in dealing with his detractors. Whenever someone insulted him, Harry would look the student directly in the eye, chin lifted, with a calm expression on his face. He would not say a word but, silently, to himself, he’d repeat his mantra, “I am a hero – your hero. One day, you will be sorry that you treated me this way.” Most students found Harry’s behavior alarming and Harry noticed a decrease in the number of insults thrown his way.

Draco Malfoy, as always, was an exception. When Harry stared directly at him after Draco had flashed his “Twist Stinks” button, Draco had challenged, “What’s the matter, Twist? Do you have something to say?”

“No,” said Harry calmly. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Draco was infuriated at the dismissal. “I’m looking forward to seeing you make a fool of yourself, Twist. Whatever the first task is, the other champions will leave you in the dust – where you belong!”

Harry refused to respond, but continued to stare steadily at Draco. Disconcerted, the other boy pretended that Pansy Parkinson was signaling to him and he walked away. Harry noticed Professor Moody watching him. Forestalling any continued attempts by the teacher to speak with him, Harry quickly retreated.

The day of the first task dawned bright and clear. Harry woke up instantly alert but not immediately remembering why he had a vague sense of dread gnawing at the edges of his mind. When memory came flooding back, he felt his blood run cold and his bones disintegrate. He waited until his roommates left before climbing out of bed. He didn’t want them to see him shaking.

Deciding that he needed to calm down, Harry skipped breakfast to sit by the Dark Lake again. He wondered if he would ever sit by this lake again. Maybe, today would be his last. Maybe the dragon would succeed in killing him. “No!” he said angrily, climbing to his feet. “I will not die today. I don’t even know why I’m afraid. I have to kill Voldemort. Whoever put my name in the Goblet is mistaken if they think anything is going to stop me. I will kill Voldemort – it is my destiny!”

And, letting his anger help fuel his courage, Harry made his way down to the stadium where the first task was to be held. He sidetracked briefly to take the broom he intended to use out of the school equipment shed, leaning it against the outside. He hoped that it would obey his command to come when the time was right. Giving it a last pat, he entered the tent where the champions were to wait for the task to begin. The other champions were already there.

Ludo Bagman called the champions together and explained that they would each have to retrieve a golden egg that had been placed in a nest protected by a dragon. Each champion put their hand into a bag, pulling out a model of the dragon he or she would face. Each model had a number indicating the order they were to take on the dragons. Harry was to go last, facing the Hungarian Horntail, the most vicious of the dragons. He knew that everyone in the tent was watching him intently, trying to see if he was regretting having put his name in the Goblet yet. He schooled his face to maintain an indifferent expression. He was not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing that he was afraid.

Waiting for his turn was among the hardest things Harry had ever had to do. He couldn’t see but he could hear the commentary as the other champions faced their dragons. Harry wondered if he would run screaming from the tent when it was his turn.

Finally, he heard the whistle blow signaling his turn. The signal hit him like a blow, even though he had just spent the last hour anticipating this moment. “I am a hero. I am a hero,” he repeated silently to himself.

Slowly, he entered the stadium. The crowds were a blur of color. There were too many people, and he was too frightened, to recognize anyone he knew. The sound was deafening. He couldn’t tell whether the crowd was booing or cheering. He was glad – he didn’t think he could handle boos just now.

There, in front of him, was the Hungarian Horntail. It was enormous! It opened its mouth to roar and belch fire. Harry was transfixed by the number of razor sharp teeth – each as large as a full grown man. The creature swished its tail angrily and Harry noticed the spike sticking out of it. His mouth dry and his hands sweating profusely, Harry lifted his wand and said, in a shaky voice, “Accio school broom!”

After a short wait that seemed like an eternity to Harry, the broom came whizzing through the sky to hover in front of him. Harry had to wipe his palms on his robe in order for them to be dry enough to grip the broom handle. Then, with a kick to the ground, he lifted off.

Almost at once, Harry felt the familiar thrill that flying always brought. He could do this! He could! He just needed to get that dragon to move to the side and he’d be able to retrieve the egg. Carefully, maneuvering the creature away from the nest through a series of intricate dives and evasions, Harry was able to lure the dragon away from the egg. In a surprisingly short time, Harry put his broom into a steep dive, pulling up at the last possible moment to sweep past the nest and capture the egg. Once he felt its weight in his arms, he sped up and rose into the air again. When he was sure he had cleared the dragon’s reach, Harry landed lightly and held up the egg for all to see.

He couldn’t help grinning broadly in relief. And, now that the switch in his brain let in sound again, he realized that he was hearing cheers. Even if everyone thought that he had put his name in the Goblet, they were impressed. He heard Bagman, commentating, say “Great Scott, that boy can fly! Did you see this, Mr. Krum? What a performance!”

Professor McGonagall, who had come to meet him when he got off the broom, was saying, “That was excellent, Twist!” And, then she burst out, as if she couldn’t help herself, “Are you sure you won’t reconsider being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?”

Harry smiled and shook his head. He looked around the crowded stadium, filled with cheering people. This is it! he thought exultantly. This is what it will be like when I defeat Voldemort for good. Only it will be even better then! They will cheer for me and everyone will love me. This is where I am meant to be!

The cheers died down when the judges’ scores were read. Harry received the second highest marks; he wouldn’t have cared if he had come in last. He was just so happy it was over.

And, the best thing was that Ron and Hermione were his friends again. Hermione came running up to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Mark! You could’ve been killed!”

Ron was right behind her, his face pale. “That was bloody brilliant, mate!” he breathed. “I think you were crazy to put your name in the Goblet, but maybe you actually have a chance to win. I…I’ll be rooting for you!”

Harry didn’t know how to react. He had missed his friends so much, he didn’t want to fight with them anymore. It was clear that Ron, at least, was not going to believe that Harry hadn’t submitted his own name into the Goblet. But, at least he wasn’t angry about it anymore. Ron was apparently willing to be friends even believing Harry had lied to him.

Hermione finished hugging her friend and stepped back. “We’re sorry we weren’t there for you, Mark. We were angry with you, but not anymore. We just want you to get through this in one piece!”

Ron added. “No. I want him to win!” and he smiled at Harry. Harry realized that his was as close to an apology as he would receive.

Swallowing his disappointment that they still thought him a liar, he smiled back and said, “I’m with Hermione. I just want to come out of this alive!”

Ron slapped him on the back and Hermione hugged him again. It felt so good to have his friends back.

Harry flipped a mental finger at whoever had put his name in the Goblet. “Hah!” he thought triumphantly. “I made it through the first task. You didn’t kill or humiliate me, if that was your plan.”

Thank goodness the second task wasn’t until February!