A/N: After writing Goblet of Crack, I figured I needed a more serious rewrite of GoF, and had this idea from rereading GoF as I was writing that one. Title pretty much sums up the plot.

It was the morning after his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire.

Harry Potter lay in his bed staring straight up at the ceiling, wondering just how miserable his life around the castle was going to become for a while because of yet another event he had no control over. If the reaction of his dormmate the night before, who he'd thought was his best friend and would always stick by him, was any indication, he was going to be as hated as the year everyone had thought he was the heir of some long dead guy none of them could actually tell you anything about other than the fact he'd started the House that everyone now hated over a thousand years later and had had a few beliefs that were still prevalent to this day in various forms even among all the families who thought they were better than that. All simply because he, Harry, had a rare skill that said long dead dude and one psychopath had — proving his point that all the self-righteous families were just as bigoted as Slytherin, just for different things than blood.

The only person he now knew for sure would believe him was Hermione, who had always stuck by him, no matter what. Even during the previous year, when they'd fought over his new broomstick, their only real fight they'd had since becoming friends, she'd been more on his side than he himself had been, trying to make sure he was safe and didn't get brutally killed because he cared more about Quidditch than his own life. But it looked seriously doubtful at the moment that anyone else would believe him. And while most of Gryffindor was clearly going to support him in this stupid tournament, he'd rather they believe he hadn't entered himself at all than support him because they thought he had.

Finally deciding he'd stalled the inevitable long enough, Harry climbed out of bed, thankful to see that the redhead had already disappeared — he really didn't feel like another fight at the moment. Dressing slowly, hoping that by the time he made it down to the Great Hall most of the crowds, and especially Ron, would have disappeared, he got ready to face the day. Finally, no longer capable of stalling any longer, he pushed open the door to their dorm and started down the stairs.

Where he nearly literally ran into his bushy-haired friend walking up them.

"Hi, Harry!" she said cheerfully. Holding out a napkin, she continued, "I was just bringing you breakfast. Figured you probably weren't up for facing the Great Hall this morning. But since you're already up, want to take it outside and go for a walk?"

Harry nodded, overwhelmingly grateful for her thoughtfulness. "That'd be great, thanks."

They had just made it out into the courtyard and away from any prying ears when Harry couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Do you believe I didn't enter myself?"

Hermione stopped short, causing Harry to have to stop and turn back to look at her.

"Of course I believe you didn't enter yourself!" she exclaimed, sounding offended that he'd even have to ask. "One look at your face last night when Dumbledore called out your name told me that. Even before you said you didn't put your name in, which would have been good enough for me on its own."

Unable to help himself, Harry took the step to close the gap between him and Hermione, and threw his arms around her. Sure, he'd told himself Hermione was the one person who'd believe him no matter what, and he really had believed that, but it was different to actually be able to hear it from her own mouth.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, before finally letting her go.

"Of course, Harry. Of course," replied Hermione softly, giving him a smile only she could.

They continued walking down towards the Black Lake, Hermione handing him the napkin full of breakfast so he could eat as they walked in companionable silence.

Once he had finished eating, Hermione asked concernedly, "So what are you going to do?"

She didn't have to explain what she meant, they both knew.

Harry shrugged. "I have to compete, or else I'll lose my magic, but they never said how hard I have to compete. So I guess I'll just half-arse it. Do as little as I can to fulfill the obligations of competing, without actually trying. I don't want to be part of this stupid tournament, never really did regardless of how I'm might have joked around about competing when we first heard of it…so why should I give it any more effort than my Divination homework, which I also don't care about? Being me, they can't really let me die, or put me in situations where I have to seriously try or I will die, so I guess I'll just fail every task with as little effort as I can, and try to actually enjoy my year here at Hogwarts for once."

"Think the professors will be okay with that?" asked Hermione.

"Nope. Not in the least," answered Harry. "They are fully expecting me to try to win the thousand galleons and eternal glory, or whatever such nonsense they're touting, but it's not their decision. I don't need the money or want the fame, and I certainly don't want to be competing."

They continued walking for a while, before Harry suddenly said, "Where were you last night? I never saw you in the common room while the party was going on."

"There was a party?" asked Hermione, before shaking her head. "I mean, it's the twins, so yeah, of course there would have been party. Sorry, it was all over by the time I got back. As soon as we were all dismissed, I went straight to the library to read up on the TriWizard Cup, and just lost track of time. I mean, I read a bunch about it after Dumbledore announced it when we first got here, but I hadn't looked at it from the perspective of a participant yet. And I am sorry for not being there to talk with you at all last night."

"It's fine, Hermione," replied Harry, shaking his head. "And you've more than made up for it this morning. But I guess that means you missed Ron's reaction to the news."

"Well…not really," said Hermione. "I mean, I missed whatever fight clearly occurred between you two last night, but he was in a right state after you joined the rest of the champions and before we were all dismissed and I headed off to the library, and he was clearly still not happy this morning when I saw him at breakfast before I headed back to the library. And speaking of which, it looks like it was a good thing I did, or I would have been bursting in on you, waking you up."

"Probably not, I lay in bed for a long time feeling bad for myself, and then took as long as I possibly could getting ready to avoid having to face anyone. So you would have just found me being grumpy, not actually asleep," replied Harry. "Though that might have been worse, for you at least."

After second he added, "So Ron still doesn't believe I didn't enter myself?"

"Sorry," replied Hermione, shaking her head. "But unfortunately it gets worse than that. He'll of course never admit it, never has in the three years we've known him, but he's also jealous of you. And before you start, I know you don't want your fame, yada yada. But he feels like he's overshadowed by all of his siblings, all while not being willing to actually try to do anything to stand out on his own, so he's jealous of all the fame and attention you get without doing anything, and he conveniently forgets that most of it is negative, and that your life is a lot worse off because of it. Combine that with how much he hates being poor and would love to get his hands on a thousand galleons, and he's not a happy camper right now. And add on believing that you're lying to him, despite the fact you never have before, and he's about ready to explode."

They continued on around the Black Lake, Harry not really having a response, or wanting to have to talk or even think about Ron at the moment. He felt betrayed, and it was easier to push it out of his mind entirely than to think about it.

After a while, Hermione broke the comfortable silence they'd lapsed into. "When we get back to the castle, I really think you should write to Sirius and tell him what happened. It will be much better if he finds out from you, than whatever the Daily Prophet writes about it. I was honestly surprised that it wasn't in the Prophet this morning, but glad that it wasn't because it means you still have the chance to tell him first."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione cut him off. "And if you're worried that he'll come bursting into Hogwarts or something foolhardy like that, then tell him that you're going to do as little as possible, and he doesn't have to worry about your safety. He's not going to worry any less, because he's your godfather, it's his job to worry about you since your parents aren't here to do it, but it will help you worry a little less about what he's going to do, and it might keep him from doing anything too rash."

Defeated, Harry sighed, and replied, "Okay, fine. We'll do it when we get back up to the castle."

~HP~

As Harry predicted, the next few days were torture.

Hufflepuff was especially cold towards him for 'stealing' their glory, and Slytherin was Slytherin. But even Ravenclaw had turned their backs on him as well, believing like everyone not named Hermione that Harry had entered himself. Of course, it didn't help that Dumbledore hadn't even tried telling the school that Harry hadn't entered himself or had someone enter for him, that it looked like a plot by someone nefarious to try to maim, or seriously injure, or kill Harry and make it look like an accident — not that it probably would have actually helped any, but the gesture would have at least been nice. And despite supporting him, Harry wasn't really sure Gryffindor was being any better than the rest of the castle, as they insisted on treating him like he was especially crafty and had found a way to enter himself, no matter how many times he told everyone he hadn't done it.

To neither his nor Hermione's surprise, Ron refused to sit anywhere near Harry for the next week, and therefore Hermione by extension, as she remained loyally by Harry's side. But Ron did keep up a steady stream of glares and under his breath mutterings at Harry, which as best they could tell were centered around calling Harry a lying attention-whore who'd betrayed him.

But they knew Ron's bitching would be minor compared to what the Prince of Cruelty could cook up, and unfortunately they had class with him second thing Monday morning, after suffering through the wrath of Hufflepuff in Herbology, including from the teacher herself.

Harry and Hermione had just arrived at Hagrid's cottage when they heard Draco's sneering voice drifting across the lawn towards them.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champion. Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer... Half the Triwizard champions have died...how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

"Actually, only six champions ever lost their life in the several centuries the tournament was going steady," replied Hermione, going into full lecture mode. She knew it would do no good in regards to actually teaching Draco anything, but some of the other students listening in might learn something, and it would take the attention off Harry. "And only four of those are actually well-known, but it's from those four that the reputation of the tournament being highly deadly evolved from."

Draco's retort was lost when Hagrid came lumbering around from the back of his cottage with the blast-ended skrewts, declaring they were going to take them on walks. As everyone reluctantly began trying to leash up the abominations, Hagrid called Harry over to him under the pretext of dealing with a larger than normal skrewt, despite the fact they were all clearly the same size. So Harry warily walked over, afraid of whether Hagrid was going to believe him or not when clearly no one else did, Hermione walking beside him with her hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder in support.

"So - yer competin', Harry. In the tournament. School champion," said Hagrid as soon as everyone else was too busy to overhear.

"If by school champion, you mean the champion of some made up school that doesn't exist, then sure," replied Harry, still unsure of what Hagrid believed about him, but wanting to make sure he corrected the popular misconception that he was the, or even a, Hogwarts Champion — that was Cedric Diggory, and Cedric Diggory alone.

"No idea who put yeh in fer it, Harry?" asked Hagrid, ignoring everything Harry had said.

"So you believe that I didn't enter myself?" replied Harry with a sigh of relief, before answering, "And no. Dumbledore hasn't told me anything."

"Course I believe yeh," Hagrid grunted. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh - an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."