DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. IT BELONGS TO JK. ROWLING.
Prologue
The Fourth Name
The Goblet of Fire had been burning for several minutes before anyone realized something was wrong.
Blue-white flames flickered inside the ancient cup as hundreds of students from three different schools waited in tense silence. The champions had already been chosen—one from each school.
Everything should have been finished.
Yet the Goblet continued to burn.
Students began whispering among themselves. Professors exchanged uneasy glances.
At the center of the hall stood Albus Dumbledore, watching the Goblet carefully. His expression, usually calm and reassuring, had become unusually serious.
The flames suddenly surged higher.
A collective gasp echoed through the Great Hall.
With a sharp burst of sparks, a small piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet and landed in Dumbledore's hand.
The room fell completely silent.
Dumbledore stared down at the parchment for several seconds, his brows slowly drawing together.
"This cannot be correct," he murmured.
But the magic of the Goblet did not make mistakes.
He raised his voice so the entire hall could hear.
"Harry Potter."
For a moment no one moved.
Then hundreds of heads turned toward the Gryffindor table.
At the far end of the hall, Harry Potter sat frozen in his seat.
He hadn't entered.
He knew he hadn't.
Yet the Goblet had spoken his name.
Confusion spread across the hall as students began whispering again. Some looked impressed. Others looked suspicious.
At the staff table, several professors were already arguing quietly.
But Harry barely noticed any of it.
One thought echoed through his mind.
Someone had put his name in the Goblet.
And whoever had done it wanted him in the tournament.
Because in the history of the Triwizard Tournament, champions didn't just compete.
Sometimes they died.