Author's Note: Check out Batmobile's story, "Ronald Weasley and His Ego." Our stories are very similar, since we wrote them based on the same silly conversation. As so often happens though, after the basic premise was established, our stories veered off in pretty different directions. Their's is much funnier!

A fourth name flew out of the Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore's hand shot up and caught the scrap of paper automatically. He squinted at the name written on the paper. He paused.

Around the Great Hall murmurs slowly filled the space, rising in volume as Dumbledore continued to be silent. Hermione leaned over to Harry. "Someone must have tampered with the Goblet," she whispered.

Harry felt the dread in his stomach grow heavier. Every year. Every single Halloween something happened which pulled his life apart and usually put him into the fire. He forced himself not to hold his breath as they all waited for Dumbledore to read aloud the fourth name.

Dumbledore hemmed. He brought the piece of paper closer to his eyes. He hawed. "Well," he said, "let us hope that the fourth champion's penmanship is not representative of their ability in other areas." He twinkled and waved his wand over the paper. "Much better!" he smiled.

The Great Hall fell completely silent.

"The fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament is…"

Harry took a great breath in.

"Ronald Weasley."

…

Collectively, every single person in Hogwarts thought, "... What?" at the same time. Except for Dumbledore. He just twinkled some more. No one knows how his mind works.

Everyone in the hall slowly turned to look at Ron Weasley, who was, as usual, found sitting next to his best mate Harry Potter. His face had gone very, very pale, rendering the freckles on his face looking even sharper in contrast. He pointed to his face. "Me?" he clarified, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, Ron. You." Dumbledore smiled again. "Please make your way into the champion's chambers."

Ron gulped. He glanced over at Harry and Hermione. He nodded slowly, and rose to his feet. As he made his way to the front of the Great Hall, the students began to whisper once more.

Most of the Hogwart's students didn't have an opinion yet, and in fact, a great deal of them were merely confirming with each other that Ron was, indeed, Harry Potter's best mate. And perhaps more importantly, Fred and George Weasley's little brother. In fact, despite being a relative unknown, Ron Weasley, everyone quickly agreed, had Potential.

The Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students were torn between disbelief at the seemingly blatant cheating and disregard of an obvious youth.

Harry began to breath normally again. Somehow, miraculously, he hadn't been the one the universe decided to screw over this year. He felt a twinge of guilt. Poor Ron. Was this his fault? If Ron hadn't been his best mate would he still have been chosen? Harry's life was one dangerous misadventure after another, and not (entirely) by choice. Now it seemed it was Ron's turn to suffer. Harry vowed to himself to be as good of a best mate to Ron as Ron had always been to him.

Ron went into the champion's chamber. "Err, hi guys," he said awkwardly, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head.

"What is it?" asked Fleur Delacour, the french champion, with only a hint of an accent. "Do they need us to come back out?"

"Um," Ron stammered.

Cedric Diggory, the champion for Hogwarts, questioned, "You're Ron Weasley, right? Fred and George's little brother?"

"Yeah…"

"Should we head back out then, mate?" Cedric asked, with a broad, friendly expression. He looked completely unworried.

Fleur, on the other hand, looked torn between annoyance at the delay in response, and concern over whether the strange, red-headed little boy was perhaps going to faint.

Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion hadn't even turned away from the fireplace yet, where he appeared to be practicing his best brooding expression.

Ron gulped. "Actually, -"

He was interrupted by a flurry of adults entering the room, including all of the Headmaster's and judges of the tournament. They all appeared, similarly to Fleur, worried and annoyed.

"It is clear that the Goblet of Fire has been tampered with" declared the extremely large Headmistress of Beauxbaton. "And unless you tell me that young Weezley is a Charms prodigy, I sincerely doubt that it was by this little boy!"

Ron frowned. "Hey, " he started, about to protest over the description of him as "little."

"My dear Olympe," said Dumbledore, ignoring Ron's sounds of protest, "You are completely correct that Ronald Weasley could not possibly have caused the Goblet of Fire to have chosen a fourth name. It would take a powerful wizard to tamper with such an old magical artifact."

The Headmaster of Durmstrang, Karkaroff, looked angry, but also as though he wasn't quite sure where to direct that anger. "I would normally not be surprised by the British cheating to allow themselves an extra champion," he sneered, looking straight at Crouch, the British ministry official in charge. "However, even I am hard-pressed to believe that you would cheat to allow this pathetic little boy a chance in such a dangerous tournament!"

Ron was starting to get a bit steamed. "What do you mean -"

"Quite right." Dumbledore continued, steamrolling over Ron's complaints. "I'm sure that no one has risked dealing with the dangerous magic contained in the Goblet of Fire in order to put Ronald Weasley in this tournament. In fact, I see only two possible explanations, unlikely as they both may seem."

Everyone fell silent, waiting for the extremely knowledgable and old wizard's explanation. Except for Ron. He was still sputtering almost incoherently over being deemed a "pathetic little boy."

"I'm the tallest boy in my year" he exclaimed, to the interest of absolutely no one.

"The first explanation," Dumbledore stated grandly, "is that one of the many enchantments on the Goblet of Fire has worn off, and this is a simple case of a powerful magical object misfiring in a way that would, undoubtedly, take a team of Charms Masters to understand."

Though everyone looked doubtful, most of the people in the chamber nodded, understanding that even completely outlandish things were possible when magic was involved. Even the surly Viktor Krum was giving a grudging half-nod at this explanation.

"The second explanation is a bit more complex." Dumbledore continued, his face becoming grave. "Young Ronald Weasley is the best friend and closest confidant of The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. It is possible that one of the same criminals who rampaged at the Quidditch World Cup earlier this year may have decided to cause more mayhem by interfering with this tournament."

"Do you mean someone might've put that little boy's name in the cup in order to hurt him?" Fleur demanded, grasping Dumbledore's meaning more quickly than the rest of the room.

Ron gave up on trying to convince the occupants of the room to stop calling him a little boy. This was getting serious. Some evil wizard was trying to kill him!

"Not at all," Dumbledore said, his eyes regaining a bit of their twinkle.

"But you just said!" interjected Karkaroff, somewhat heatedly, annoyed at the entire situation.

"I said that Mr. Weasley is the best friend of Harry Potter," Dumbledore stated calmly.

"You think someone's trying to use me to get at Harry?" Ron said, sounding a little more excited about the prospect than was warranted. "They'll have to kill me first!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Weasley. Though I'm sure Mr. Potter would be happy to know what a loyal friend they have in you, I do not think the situation will call for anything so drastic." Dumbledore paused thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, I think it's very likely that our villain has simply made a mistake!"

"A mistake!?" shouted Karkaroff. "I'll say!"

"I suspect that this person unknown intended to enter Harry Potter into the tournament, perhaps hoping that one of the challenges would prove fatal. In order to accomplish this they may have stolen a piece of paper, perhaps off of a school-assignment, with what they thought was Harry Potter's signature. And there was their mistake! As you may have noticed earlier, I struggled greatly in trying to read the handwriting of the name on the paper entered. I suspect the person who stole the signature mistakenly believed it to be Mr. Potter's, when in fact, it was the that of his best friend's!"

Silence greeted Dumbledore's speech, as they all struggled to digest such a bizarre story. No one seemed to know how to respond.

Crouch cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, Headmaster, the fact of the matter is that Ronald Weasley is now a player in this tournament."

"What? No! Surely not. There must be some way to prevent the poor child from having to compete," said Madame Maxime, the Beauxbaton Headmistress, compassionately.

"It is an outrage that anyone should force such a young boy to perform in such a dangerous competition!" added Fleur, lending her Headmistress support.

Ron saw his chance for fame and glory slipping out of his grasp. "Wait a second," he started, intending to try to convince them that he should be allowed a shot. Only sporting, after all. And 1,000 Galleons was hardly anything to scoff at.

"No!" Crouch interrupted firmly. "The rulebook is clear. Ronald Weasley must compete if his name came out of the Goblet. If he were to fail to attempt the challenges, he would be in danger of losing his magic!"

Ron sighed in relief. For a second it had looked like he wasn't going to get to have a go! He could totally understand why the Hogwarts professors all looked so grim. That would've been a travesty. Without him, Hogwarts didn't have a chance! Cedrick Duggory was all well and good, Ron could admit. Handsome, even. But, well,... he was a Hufflepuff!

"In that case, all we can do is congratulate our champions," Dumbledore said, less enthusiastically than he might've otherwise. The students were dismissed to go back to their dorms, while the adults stayed behind to discuss more of the implications of this unexpected event.

In the Gryffindor common room, a party was booming. The Weasley twins had taken over their younger brother's PR and were spinning this as the most epic Weasley prank of all time. The fact that Gryffindor got a champion out of it was only the icing on the hilarity! Privately, they may have doubted that everything was as it appeared, but outwardly, they were merely astounded that, "little Ronnikins had it in him!" As a result of their grandstanding, and with the help of their smuggled-in Butterbeer, the consensus of the house was that Ron Weasley was an upstanding member of their society, the quintessential Gryffindor. The fact that his two best friends, Harry Potter, and Know-It-All Granger appeared quietly worried and befuddled, did nothing to deter the partying. It was to this party, that Ron Weasley entered.

Ron looked around. The entire room cheered. "Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!" He blinked. He grinned. Now this was more like it!

Lavender Brown handed him a butterbeer and smiled prettily. Fred and George quickly appeared on either side of him, clapping him on the back, and gesturing to the room at large that their king had arrived. "Couldn't have shared the trick with the rest of us, could ya have?" asked their friend Lee Brown, teasing him with a grin.

"What?" said Ron, grinning back, "And let you tossers steal all the fame?" The entire room laughed and cheered again. From somewhere near the back, someone turned up the radio, and music played louder.

Harry and Hermione quietly nudged their way towards Ron, as he continued to trade sparring jokes with Lee and lap up the entirely unusual attention of his brothers and Lavender.

"Hey Ron!" Hermione called, as the duo gestured towards his dorm room, clearly suggesting that he follow them up to chat.

Ron's face sobered at the sight of his best friends, and he more solemnly disengaged from the group, heading towards the stairs.

As soon as they got to the room, Harry and Hermione began to speak. But Ron held up a hand for silence.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," he said sincerely, looking truly repentant.

"... What?" said Harry, feeling somewhat wrong-footed.

They both looked at eachother in confusion.

Ron decided to try again, "I didn't mean to steal your thunder like that, Harry, and if I'd been able, I totally would've gotten you into the tournament too! I swear it!" As an afterthought he added, "You too Hermione," and he nodded earnestly at her as well.

Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances. "It… it's okay?"

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Hermione asked. "Are you telling us you really did purposefully enter the tournament?" She looked torn between disbelief and concern. Like she wasn't quite sure as to whether she ought to slap him upside the head or bring him to the infirmary.

"No, of course not!" Ron denied belligerently. "I would never try to do something like that without including you guys! I mean, I wouldn't even know how to begin!"

Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances. Again.

"Then what are you apologizing for?" Harry asked, forcing his voice to be gentle.

Ron stared. "You aren't? … I mean… You guys aren't mad? You believe I didn't do it on purpose?"

"Well, of course, Ronald," Hermione said, exasperated. "As if you would do such a thing! As if you were capable!"

Ron was too relieved to be mad at the slight. Though he was starting to wonder why it seemed that no one believed he was able to cheat his way into the tournament… He totally could've! If he'd wanted to.

"Yeah, mate. We know you wouldn't exclude us from your 'mastermind' pranking!" Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

"Soooo," said Ron, "what did you guys want to talk about then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "We wanted to make sure you were okay! And if Dumbledore had said why your name came out of the Goblet!"

"Oh, yeah. That." Ron's face became serious and earnest again, "Harry!" he said, "Someone's trying to kill you again!"

"What?" Harry exclaimed. The feeling of dread that had lifted after his name wasn't called as a champion returned.

"Yeah, Dumbledore said they just got me by mistake... " at this Ron looked down. "I mean, it figures, doesn't it?" he said quietly. "That's the only way I'd get into a thing like this. By mistake…"

Harry looked beseechingly at Hermione, completely out of his depth on how to hand the situation. Not only did he feel guilty for basically forcing his best friend into such a dangerous event, but he had no idea how to deal with insecurities of this nature. Harry always hoped that things like this didn't happen to him… Ron felt upset that they didn't happen to him enough.

"Ron," said Hermione gently. "It might only be a mistake that you got into the tournament, but that doesn't mean anything. It would've been a mistake if any of us had gotten in! Dumbledore's mistake."

"Yeah, I guess," mumbled Ron. "It just hurts a little that no one in that chamber thought I had any chance of succeeding, y'know."

"Well, that's their loss, isn't it? After all, they don't even know you." Hermione pointed out logically, trying to make her friend feel better without lying about his abilities.

"Yeah, mate," Harry added somewhat weakly. "We think you can do it." Harry had no compunctions about lying when the situation called for it.

"You do?" Ron looked up at them from under his orange eyelashes.

"'Course," Harry said, looking at Hermione helplessly.

"Ron," said Hermione, taking on a faux-stern voice, "If you go downstairs you'll find an entire House full of people who believe in you. We're all going to help you through this."

Ron grinned. "Thanks, Hermione. Harry. You know how to make a guy feel good."

"Anytime Ron." The trio grinned at each other.

"Alright! Enough of this sappy stuff" said Ron, turning around and opening the door. He positioned himself on the top of the bannister to the stairs. "GRYFFINDORS RULE!" he shouted as he slid down.

Hermione groaned. "He really has no chance, does he?" she asked Harry, somewhat rhetorically.

"He really doesn't," Harry agreed good-naturedly with a fond smile and a bit of a shrug.