Why did everything seem to happen to him, Harry couldn't help but wonder as he trudged into Dumbledore's office after his name emerged from the Goblet of Fire. It wasn't enough that his parents were murdered by Voldemort at a young age. Or that he had to spend the next decade with some of the most miserable Muggles to have ever walked the face of the earth. You'd think he'd have deserved a break after that. But no. He just had to fight a troll, to face down Voldemort yet again over the Philosopher's Stone. To have to slay a damn basilisk with only a sword! To have to fight hundreds of Dementors with only a single Patronus! And that was only a small amount of the shit he'd had to endure at Hogwarts, the so-called safest place in the magical world.

Some days, not many of them, but some of them, Harry wondered if he should have stayed in his cupboard.

And now this nonsense. Of course his name came out of the stupid goblet. He should have seen it coming! Everything happened to him. Just once, he'd like Draco to be the one in the middle of everything. See how he liked that, the git. But no, it was going to be Harry who had his life risked over and over again. Harry who would have to endure the scorn of his peers. Harry who would be badmouthed behind his back, just like two years ago when the idiots thought he was actually the Heir of Slytherin. No, never mind that he had a Muggleborn mother and best friend. Heaven forbid we should use logic!

Harry was just sick and tired of it all. A normal school year. That's all he wanted! Was that truly too much to ask for? He could have been normal in Stonewall High. He probably wouldn't have been happy there, but he'd have been safe. So Harry was angry. Very angry. Angrier than he was in canon, in fact.

And he only got angrier the more time he spent in Dumbledore's office. No one at all was on his side. Not Bagman, who seemed to take an unseemly pleasure in the idea of him risking his life to entertain the masses. Not his fellow champions, who thought he was just a little boy. Had any of them fought Voldemort? Harry rather thought not. And certainly not Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gazed carefully at Harry. His eyes were twinkling madly. They did that often, now that Harry thought about it. The twinkling only seem to intensify when the two of them were face to face. Occasionally, Harry wondered if he would be blinded by all that twinkling. It just didn't seem anywhere close to natural. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly.

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Dumbledore knew him. He knew that Harry wasn't some attention seeking brat like Snape thought. He knew Harry's true character. He'd been nothing but supportive to him, even if the old man had a bizarre blind spot when it came to Harry trying to convince him that the Dursleys were spectacularly bad news. Dumbledore was always around with a lemon drop and a kind word whenever he was feeling down. Harry Potter trusted Albus Dumbledore implicitly in the same way the sun always rose and fell every day. It was a law of the universe. And now? Now Dumbledore had hopped on the "let's hate Harry Potter for no adequately explained reason" train.

Enough. Was. Enough.

They wanted him to be an attention seeking brat? They wanted him to have put his name in the Goblet of Fire? Fine. That was exactly what they'd get. Telling the truth had never gotten him anywhere. It was time for a new plan. It was time to lie his ass off. Hopefully, it would be more effective than his usual strategy of just rolling over and taking things. Though with his luck, it could just as easily make things worse.

But there was nothing for it. Harry knew no one would ever believe him if he said he didn't put his name in, just like they didn't believe him when he told them he hadn't attacked those students. And that was even less plausible! People were going to be upset, yes. They'd try to punish him. And that was exactly what he wanted.

Harry leaned forward, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Yes. I did put my name in the Goblet of Fire." He gave a savage, shark-like grin at everyone. "I'm going to be the winner of this tournament, and there's nothing any of you can do about it. Try to stop me. I dare you."

Everyone just stared at him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled so much that everyone had to shield their eyes for a few seconds. Thankfully, it stopped just as soon as it started. "You put your name in the Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore said flatly.

Harry smirked. Oh, God, this was fun. He should have done this ages ago. "Sure did. You thought your pathetic age line could stop the Boy Who Lived?" He made his best Draco-style pose. It looked truly awful, in his opinion, but the people in the room saw what they wanted to see or didn't know him enough to know any better. "I slew Voldemort when I was one year old. Three years ago, I vanquished him again." Dumbledore's hand twitched, but he didn't react in any other way. "Two years ago, I – guess what, people – destroyed him a third time, and a basilisk to boot. Last year, I faced down a hundred Dementors at once. Your tournament? It's nothing to me."

Dumbledore opened and closed his mouth, looking at Harry with trepidation and horror. "Now, Harry, let's not exaggerate. The tournament is extremely dangerous. It's honorable of you to cover up for Mr. Malfoy…"

"Don't bring Draco into this," Harry snarled. "I am the Fourth Triwizard Champion. And I will win."

Professor McGonagall looked at him, extremely bewildered. Harry felt a spasm of guilt. The professor had been extremely helpful to him over the years and a darn good teacher, even if in his opinion she was spread a little thin. "Harry…please. Lily wouldn't have wanted you to put yourself in danger like this."

Harry wanted to say something smug and snappy, but he really couldn't bring himself to do it. He would have felt like a real git if he'd done it. "What's done is done, professor," he said instead. "You heard the headmaster. This is a binding magical contract. Even if you want to get me out of that, there's nothing that can be done."

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "We'll just see about that. I can be quite persistent when I want to be. I'm sure there's some loophole." Harry deeply hoped she would find one, but he doubted she would. He wasn't that lucky. "Don't think you won't be getting detention for this, Mr. Potter." Harry inclined his head in acceptance; he'd brought that on himself. From her perspective, it was more than reasonable.

"I'm afraid there is no loophole, deputy headmistress," Mr. Crouch said apologetically but firmly. "Mr. Potter will have to compete. He brought this on himself."

"He is fourteen!" Professor McGonagall snarled. "Do not tell me a fourteen year old deserves to die because he made one mistake!"

The room exploded into more arguments. Harry just leaned against the wall with a smug smirk. He proceeded to wink at both Fleur and Viktor; they were both very attractive, after all. Viktor more so, in his opinion; he came by his beauty naturally. Flirting with people was what arrogant jocks like Harry was pretending to be did, right? Not that he'd actually go about pestering them; he wasn't an asshole. Just a little light flirtation here and there wouldn't kill anyone. It'd probably make Draco jealous too. Wait, where had that thought come from?

"…I have half a mind to leave now!" Karkaroff screamed.

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," a voice growled from near the door. Harry looked over at Moody and gulped. If anyone could see through his ruse, it would be an ex-Auror like him. "You can't leave your champion. He's got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

"Convenient?" Karkaroff said. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you?" Moody said as he walked towards the fireplace. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

Harry put the same smirk he'd seen on some photographs of James Potter on his face. By the apoplectic look on Snape's face, it was quite effective. "Oh, that was me," he said jauntily. "Hi!"

Moody blinked several times, looking quite stunned, but he recovered swiftly. "Now why would you do a silly thing like that, laddie? Don't you know how many people have died in this tournament?!"

Harry shrugged. "I was bored. Now is there anything else you need? Cause I've got one heck of a party to attend in Gryffindor Tower, I reckon."

Professor McGonagall grabbed Harry by the arm tightly. "Oh, you most certainly do not, Potter. You will be too busy in detention to attend any parties for the foreseeable future." Harry pretended to sulk, but internally, he was quite relieved. That party seemed like a miserable experience. The less he had to face his peers and lie to them, the better.

Professor McGonagall practically dragged Harry to her office. "I know you did not put your name in that goblet, Mr. Potter," she said, fixing Harry with her most stern look.

Harry thought about lying, but shook his head. "Sorry about lying, professor. I just…I just got so sick of crap just happening to me! I figure, if stuff is gonna happen to me, I might as well get something out of it."

"What you did in there was not a smart move, Harry," Professor McGonagall said, but her expression had softened somewhat. "You made a mockery of the three most important educational institutions in magical Europe. To say nothing of our own government."

"And right now, they are aching to take me down a peg by finding a way to remove me from the tournament," Harry shot back. "I don't know enough about magical contract law to get me out of this thing, so I'm using them to do the work for me. Professor, I really don't want to be in this tournament. This was the best solution I could come up with."

Professor McGonagall gave an infinitesimally brief smile. "Quite the Slytherin style plan."

"Well, the Hat did almost put me in that house," Harry revealed.

"Like your mother before you," Professor McGonagall said with a warmer, longer smile. "Well, your detention will stand, but as I have broad authority over what occurs in my detentions, I believe I will give you some extra Transfiguration lessons. Goodness knows with this tournament, you'll need all the help you can get."

"Thank you, professor. And again, I'm sorry for the position I put you in. I really hope this can be cleared up soon."

It was very late when Harry returned to the commons room. Much to his horror, while the party was winding down, it was still going. Harry had really hoped they'd gotten sick of partying and he was going to be able to sleep without having to answer any awkward questions.

"There you are!" George shouted and the remaining partiers – Ron and Hermione not among them – surged towards Harry. Harry wasn't able to muster up anything more than a weak smile upon seeing them. Suddenly, the idea of lying to these people, people who had had his back in the past, even if some of them could be fair-weather friends, made him feel a little bit nauseous. "Harry, you've got to tell us how you put your name in the goblet!"

A flash of anger surged through Harry yet again, overwhelming the guilt he would feel by lying to his so-called friends. They really didn't care about him at all, did they? They didn't know him. They only knew the Boy Who Lived. He could tell them he didn't put his name in the goblet until he was blue in the face, and they wouldn't listen.

"I used the Patronus charm," Harry lied. "Yeah, turns out with enough power, you can make it corporeal." He had absolutely no idea whether what he was just saying was anywhere close to truth.

"There's no way you can make a Patronus," Seamus scoffed.

Harry proceeded to cast the Patronus, causing everyone to stare at his Patronus in awe. He quickly dispelled it before anyone could ask for a demonstration of its alleged corporeality. "Now I didn't do all this for me," he said in a faux modest tone. "I did it for Gryffindor! It's time we had a chance at the eternal glory of the Triwizard Tournament!" Oh, God, he really was starting to sound like Draco.

Much to Harry's dismay, all his friends – if that name could be used for them – bought into it instantaneously. No one realized that Harry would much rather have been enjoying a calm, normal year than putting himself in danger yet again. Well, fine. If that's what they wanted, that's what they'd get. Maybe if he died a bloody death at the hands of whatever trials he'd have to face, they'd realize they were wrong.

After at least an hour of partying, Harry finally managed to extricate himself from the whole thing and trudge up to the dorms. He was practically dead on his feet and it was with no small measure of relief that he saw that Ron was sleeping, utterly dead to the world, snoring loudly like a freight train like he always did. That was good news. Ron could make some rather boneheaded decisions acting on instinct, but if he had time to chill, he'd probably calm down. Harry was not in a mood for an argument right now.

And so, with the knowledge that at least his fellow Gryffindors would have his back even for the wrong reasons, Harry finally got to a very restless, fitful sleep.