“Hey, Ron!”
Ron Weasley groaned as someone shook him awake, calling his name persistently despite his attempts to pull the blankets over his head. He forced himself to wake up fully.
“Wake up, sleepyhead!”
Blinking against the warm morning light filtering into the dormitory, Ron opened his eyes. The golden rays blinded him momentarily as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his face. Though tempted to sink back into the cozy embrace of his bed, he knew he had important tasks ahead that day. With another groan, Ron realized one of his classmates was already waiting for him to get up.
“What time is it?” Ron mumbled groggily, pushing back the covers reluctantly and swinging his legs over the soft mattress. He shuffled to the bathroom to get changed, cursing under his breath along the way. After a few minutes of dressing, he returned to find his dormitory empty. With another yawn, Ron walked through the large, round doors marking the entrance to the common room.
The Hufflepuff common room had a cozy, earthy feel, with its circular shape, low ceilings, and abundance of potted plants. Some plants sang and danced from their perches hanging overhead or resting on ledges. Comfortable sofas and chairs were decorated in cheerful yellow and black patterns and embroidered with the Hufflepuff emblem. Gothic windows overlooked endless dandelion fields, creating a peaceful, picturesque view that reflected the kind nature of Hufflepuff students. A morning breeze rippled through the sea of green outside.
Ron was immediately spotted by a tall, handsome student with dark hair and bright, energetic gray eyes. The student, resting by the fireplace, flashed Ron a huge grin upon seeing his ginger-haired friend. “Hey, Ron!” he called out from his seat.
“Cedric,” Ron greeted as he sat down across from him with a tired yawn.
Noticing Ron’s scowl as he leaned back in his chair, Cedric asked curiously, “What’s with the look? Still thinking about how to win the Triwizard Tournament for Hogwarts?”
When Ron looked away in silence, Cedric continued, “You know why Dumbledore chose you. You’re the top Hufflepuff student. All you need to do is compete against the other Hogwarts champions and win to become the Triwizard champion. The other schools must have done the same selection process.”
“It sounds so easy when you say it,” Ron complained sullenly.
“That’s because it is!” Cedric declared, trying to motivate his unenthused friend. “This is your opportunity to demonstrate to your family that you have a strong work ethic. That’s why they selected you as the Hufflepuff representative - you’ve already proven yourself, regardless of their constant criticisms. If you win this challenge, I bet they’ll have to rethink their stance and feel proud that you were sorted into this house. They’ll have no choice.”
Cedric made a fair point. If Ron won the House challenge and became the Hogwarts champion, it could be a sure way for his family to finally recognize Hufflepuff’s worth—especially if he played a key role in the victory. He yearned to win and transform his parents’ perception of his house. As the lone Weasley sorted into Hufflepuff, his relationship with his tight-knit, loving family had deteriorated. Before his Sorting, they had embraced one another’s strengths and flaws. But after he broke the Gryffindor tradition, that closeness vanished. More than anything, Ron wanted to regain the strong bond he’d once shared with his family.
“I hope so,” Ron replied after a while, but he remained sullen as he thought about the other three students he would be competing against. “My sister Ginny got picked to represent Gryffindor, and she’ll never let me beat her. I can’t believe they chose her! Argh!” Ron let out an angry sigh. “Why do I always have to compete with my family? This is so frustrating. My parents will definitely cheer for her over me.”
Cedric gave him a sympathetic look. “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he comforted. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see. I mean, competing with your sister isn’t the end of the world.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have a sibling, Cedric. You never had one—” Ron knew he had crossed the line the moment he said it, but Cedric merely blinked at him, unperturbed by the insult. “And who said I’m only competing with my sister? I also have to deal with Granger from Ravenclaw and Potter from Slytherin!”
Cedric raised his eyebrows and tried to hold back a laugh. “I can’t deny it—I don’t like Harry Potter’s attitude,” he admitted. “The way he treats people from other houses bothers me, especially you.” He paused, considering his words. “You know he sees you as a ‘blood traitor,’ which is unfair.” Cedric patted Ron’s shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
Ron inhaled deeply, fists clenched in anger. “Just thinking about Potter as my competition makes my blood boil. I don’t care if he’s a Pureblood or a genius. He better not mess this up for me.”
Cedric smirked. “That’s the spirit,” he said, encouraging his friend. “I knew you still had that fire in you. Let’s go get some breakfast in the Great Hall. I’m starving.” He stood and walked to the door leading out of the dorms, Ron following closely behind.
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Hermione Granger sat with her fellow Ravenclaws in the Great Hall, engrossed in an article from The Daily Prophet. The day after Dumbledore announced the four champions from each Hogwarts house, owls had descended upon the school to deliver the newspapers. Hermione eagerly unfolded her copy, scanning the bold print until she found her own name listed among the other competitors. Before she could read further, two voices behind her interrupted her concentration.
In a snide, familiar voice that made Hermione wish she could magically block out the sound, Harry Potter said, “To be honest, I don’t think they have a chance in this challenge.”
Beside him, Draco Malfoy sniggered. “Oh yes, I’m sure we all know who will be chosen as the Hogwarts champion.”
“I can’t believe Dumbledore is letting a Mudblood and blood traitors compete against me,” Harry remarked loudly as they passed by, clearly intending his insulting words for Hermione to overhear.
Hermione scowled and shot Harry a withering look as they sat at the Slytherin table. Seething, she gulped down half her pumpkin juice and buried her nose in her newspaper, though she could no longer focus on the words.
“They’re teasing you again, aren’t they?” Luna asked mildly, her distant gaze belying her concern. Seated across from Hermione, she had a clear view of Harry and Draco chuckling with their housemates.
Hermione slammed her glass on the table, sloshing some of its contents. “So immature,” she snarled. “His parents must be proud to have raised such an arrogant, conceited son.”
“If his parents weren’t so close with the Malfoys and Lestranges...” Luna mused thoughtfully, “perhaps he could have grown into a better person and friend.”
Hermione pressed her lips together. “Well, I’d rather befriend the giant squid than deal with his awful attitude. Anyway, I have more important things to worry about than him.”
Luna chuckled. “Yes, you’re right,” she agreed. “But don’t fret too much. You’re always so prepared. I’m certain you’ll be the Champion.” She beamed encouragingly at Hermione.
Hermione eagerly replied, “I have to be, don’t I?” She sent a glare in Harry’s direction before continuing, “He doesn’t need any more glory to showcase his so-called greatness. I’ve had enough of that already—one more ‘achievement’ will make me vomit.” Seeing Harry’s name in the newspaper again, Hermione crumpled it up and tossed it aside in disgust.
Luna laughed. “I hear you,” she said with a smile as she looked at her own paper. “Read anything interesting?”
“No, it’s all rubbish,” Hermione said firmly, casting one last offended look at the newspaper as if it had tried to harm her. “No one writes quality articles anymore. They’re all obsessed with blood purity and nonsense—”
“I bet you don’t even know what blood purity means, Granger,” came a voice.
Whirling around, Hermione sprang from the bench, a scowl forming on her face. “I bet you don’t know that eavesdropping is very rude, Potter. Didn’t someone teach you to mind your own business?”
Harry just shrugged. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Blood purity is everything, Granger. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, do you?”
“I don’t need to understand it because, as I said, it’s rubbish and pure nonsense,” Hermione replied.
“You know, someone like you would call it rubbish if they didn’t have parents alive to explain it to them,” Harry said insensitively. The students around them gasped at his cruel insult while the Slytherins snickered in the background.
Hermione had finally had enough. She stood up, pointed her wand threateningly at Harry, fury etched on her face.
Just then, a friendly voice rang out from the entrance of the Great Hall. Ginny Weasley skipped over, her red hair bouncing behind her. Beaming, she reached them and said, “Hey, Harry— ...Hermione. What’s going on here? Why do you have your wand out?”
With a heavy sigh, not even glancing at Ginny, Harry muttered, “Nothing.”
Hermione lowered her wand, still glaring angrily at her rival. “That’s right, it was nothing,” she repeated for emphasis, “So you’d better return to your house, Potter, and keep that foul mouth of yours shut.”
Ginny looked at them disapprovingly. “You two shouldn’t be fighting,” she whispered anxiously. “Our goal is to compete to become Hogwarts Champion. That doesn’t mean we should become enemies. We should be coming together.”
Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at her earnest plea. “Unity isn’t in Potter’s vocabulary, Ginny.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed behind his round glasses as he snarled, “Well, how about you? You just aimed your wand at me.”
“You deserve to be blasted for talking about my parents like that,” Hermione spat angrily.
Crossing his arms, he responded indifferently, “Well, it’s true. They’re dead—”
Unexpectedly, Hermione’s fist flew across Harry’s face, the force knocking him to the ground. Gasps erupted in the now silent breakfast hall as some of Harry’s Slytherin friends stood on the table defensively. Ginny squeaked in surprise.
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Hermione trembled with fury as she shouted, “Say that again, Potter, and I promise you’ll regret it!” She whirled around and stormed away.
Watching the confrontation anxiously, Ginny asked Harry with worry, “Are you okay?” She reached out to help him up, but he slapped her hands away.
“I’m fine!” Harry snapped, glaring after Hermione. He turned on Ginny, irritation dripping from his voice. “Don’t you have somewhere to be other than here?”
Ginny recoiled. “There’s no need for that tone. I was only concerned about you.”
Harry snapped defensively, “I don’t need your concern!” Before Ginny could reply, he stalked off to join his Slytherin friends.
Left standing alone in the middle of the Great Hall, Ginny stared after Harry’s retreating back, dazed. She sank onto the bench at the Gryffindor table just as Cedric slid in beside her, having entered with Ron. Ron headed straight for the Hufflepuff table, shooting them a dirty look.
“Hi,” Cedric whispered, a little too close for comfort.
“Oh, hi, Cedric,” Ginny replied, taken aback by his familiarity.
“Every time I see a Weasley,” he mused, glancing at her curiously, “you all seem so gloomy. What’s troubling you now?”
Ginny frowned, forcing a smile. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” she said, steering the conversation elsewhere. “Is Ron okay?”
“He’s alright, just—”
“Worried about the challenge later?” she interjected. “He’s desperate to prove himself, huh?” Shaking her head, she added, “So desperate.”
“I understand his desperation,” Cedric sighed. “Don’t you think it’s time your family recognized what he’s trying to prove to himself? Being Hufflepuff’s champion means something.”
“I suspect he feels overlooked and craves more recognition from us,” Ginny said. She grew quiet, scooping bacon and eggs onto her plate with an air of indifference.
“But I thought you wanted House unity,” Cedric countered, a hint of desperation in his voice. Seeing Ginny’s surprise, he explained, “I overheard you with Potter and Granger. Why not extend that to your brother too?”
Ginny just shrugged, offering no response.
Cedric’s expression changed to one of disappointment. “Well, think about it, won’t you?” he pleaded, casting her an imploring glance before going to join Ron.
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After breakfast, the four representatives from each House gathered outside the Headmaster’s office as requested. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows above as they faced the stone eagle gargoyle calmly, despite their uncertainty about what was to come. A thud sounded from behind the wall where the statue perched as the spiral staircase descended to reveal Albus Dumbledore.
Harry despised Dumbledore for supporting Muggleborns and non-magical people at Hogwarts, yet he couldn’t hide his amazement. The headmaster knew of Harry’s hatred, having endured the student’s bigoted views many times, but remained unmoved. Though an outstanding student, Harry openly flaunted his prejudiced attitudes, prompting concerned letters from parents to pile up on Dumbledore’s desk.
The Headmaster tried repeatedly to speak with Harry, even giving him punishments and detentions, but soon grasped that nothing would resolve the issue. Surprisingly, only a handful of parents complained about their distaste for Harry; most thought highly of him. Feeling atop the student social hierarchy emboldened Harry to defy the staff’s efforts to restrain him.
The four representatives kept their distance as Professor Dumbledore descended the stairs. With just a brief inspection, he walked on, tersely ordering them to follow.
Walking silently, they made their way to the seventh floor, passing by the Charms professor’s office before stopping at a blank stretch of wall across from a tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy. As Professor Dumbledore turned to face the group, he noticed their curious and bewildered expressions, for no one had visited this part of the castle before. Harry gazed at the Headmaster with interest after taking in the empty corridor around them.
Professor Dumbledore regarded the four students—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny—with eager anticipation. “Behind you lies a room of challenges,” he told them calmly. Suddenly, a door materialized. “You’ll face unexpected obstacles and setbacks. The answers you need will always be within reach, determining if you are the true Hogwarts Champion. Don’t forget your goal. Stay grounded in reality.”
He continued, “Some situations will block your path. How you interpret and respond to difficulties will determine whether you can move forward. You’ll encounter your greatest fears, but don’t let fear cloud your judgment. Take control and stay focused. If you get stuck, you can always go back to the start. Any questions?” When no one spoke, Professor Dumbledore edged toward the door. “Good luck to you all.”
The four representatives stood shoulder-to-shoulder before the double doors, which suddenly swung open. After exchanging one final determined look with their Headmaster, they stepped forward into the unknown.
The room was initially dark, with no lights springing to life. The silence amplified their breathing and footsteps. Squinting through the darkness, they stared at each other, fearful yet ignorant of what lay ahead. Without warning, bright silver smoke erupted before them, quickly dissipating to reveal a table with goblets scattered around. Dirty pewter cauldrons lay to the left, while a suspicious yet enticing vial of golden potion stood at the center.
When Ginny saw the gold potion on the table, she immediately asked the other three, “Are we doing Potions?”
“I don’t think so,” Hermione murmured, eyeing the potion with a dark, suspicious look.
Before anyone could speak, more smoke billowed from behind the table, and three strangers materialized out of thin air, facing the group. On the left stood an elderly woman, dressed in plain clothes, clutching a wand in her hand.
“Is she Muggle-born?” Harry whispered sharply, a look of displeasure on his face.
Ron shot him an irritated glare. “Seems so.”
The next shape in the middle was a grotesque hybrid caught mid-transformation; its distorted bones shifted ceaselessly, while its torn skin revealed revolting flesh and viscera beneath. Hermione and Ginny recoiled at the gruesome sight.
“It’s awful,” Hermione said through gritted teeth, her stomach churning with nausea.
“And painful,” Ginny added with a shudder.
Harry snorted dismissively at the two girls. “What do you expect?” he said, his voice low and self-assured. “That’s just how a werewolf transforms.”
“I know that!” Hermione retorted defensively, though Harry paid her no mind. His attention was fixed instead on the last figure on the right—an elderly man with brittle gray hair, a face creased with wrinkles, waxy sallow skin, and sunken dull eyes. The man wore a white shirt with vertical gray stripes.
“Azkaban prisoner,” Harry muttered, raising an eyebrow.
The four of them stared at the scene before them, pondering what to do as they scrutinized the problem at hand. Their musings were interrupted once more, however, when more smoke materialized in front of the table, slowly forming words that revealed a riddle.
Three humans stand before you
Each of their lives will soon undo
A bottle of cure ready to unscrew
To whom you shall give it to?
“So...” Ginny began thoughtfully, brow furrowed in concentration. “We just need to decide who to give the potion to, right?” She looked uncertainly at the others, wondering if it could really be that simple.
“Obviously,” Harry said disdainfully. “I don’t see why this is hard. It’s easy for me to choose who gets the potion.”
Ron laughed scornfully. “Yeah, no doubt you’d pick the prisoner. I can’t see any reason why you wouldn’t just choose him.”
Harry turned his brilliant green eyes on Ron, eyes filled with contempt. “What’s wrong with choosing the prisoner? I really don’t see a reason to pick either of the other two.”
Ron questioned Harry accusatorily, “Because the first is Muggleborn and the second is half-breed?”
“Of course,” Harry agreed as if it were obvious. “They don’t deserve saving, no matter the circumstances.”
Hate glinting in his eyes, Ron whirled to face Harry. “That’s absurd! You must consider everyone, regardless of their situation.”
With an eye roll and fleeting glance, Harry responded uncaringly, “Why should I? It’s my choice, not yours.”
Ginny queried, “But don’t you recall what Professor Dumbledore said? Don’t let poor choices stop you from being objective.”
Harry replied hotly, annoyed at the pushback from the two Weasleys. “There’s no right or wrong answer here. You just have to decide who you would give the potion to!” Frustrated, he marched to the table, grabbed the vial, and impulsively handed it to the Azkaban prisoner without a second thought. The prisoner gratefully accepted it and drank eagerly.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gasped, holding their breath in suspense as they waited for something to happen. But the vial simply refilled itself, as if awaiting the next representative. Their eyes widened in disbelief when nothing further occurred.
Harry presented casually with a tiny smile growing at the corners of his mouth. His voice held no censure, as if he had known full well what he was doing. “It’s not that hard. I don’t know why you’re all so scared to make a choice,” he said, walking closer to a door on the opposite side of the room, most likely leading to the chamber of the next round. He turned slowly to look back at them. “While you three determine who’s taking the next turn, I’m gonna go ahead now, shall I?” He smirked at them and disappeared into the next challenge, leaving the other three representatives with their mouths hanging open.
Hermione frowned and closed her eyes. “I’m shocked the door let him through when he chose incorrectly,” she said as soon as it shut behind him. “I assumed the door wouldn’t budge at all if we picked the wrong one.”
“It’s strange...maybe we just have to choose for ourselves, whether it’s right or wrong,” Ron murmured thoughtfully.
Hermione shook her head in frustration. “But that doesn’t make sense. Professor Dumbledore clearly said we must choose wisely.”
“Maybe not for this challenge,” said Ginny. “I understand the idea is risky and I’m surprised I’m even considering it. However, this is only the first round. We don’t know how many more challenges await.” She handed the vial to the werewolf, who grasped it thankfully. She walked to the door Harry had passed through and glanced back at Ron and Hermione. “I guess I’ll see you later?” With a small wave, Ginny also went through the door.
Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, the only two left.
“You go ahead,” Ron said. “I can wait.”
But Hermione shook her head, remaining still as she contemplated deeply. “No, it’s alright. I’ll go last,” she insisted.
“Are you sure?” he questioned. “It’s only the first task. Potter and my sister made it through safely, so I doubt this challenge is too difficult.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Hermione murmured, though she nodded at Ron, signaling he could proceed.
Ron stepped toward the door hesitantly at first, but handed the potion to the old woman and cast one final glance back at Hermione, who gave him a brisk nod before he vanished behind the door.
Hermione sighed, feeling awkward as the Muggleborn, half-breed, and prisoner gazed at her expectantly. She was both amazed and frightened by earlier events, though she tried not to show it. Desperate to make the right decision, she knew better than to ignore the Headmaster’s counsel, which surely had purpose she must uncover. Rash choices now might haunt her in future trials, so she was determined to proceed thoughtfully from the start.
She analyzed the scene before her again, wondering why a large table was scattered with goblets and cauldrons. “Surely they’re not just for dramatic effect,” she muttered.
Clutching the vial of potion, she stared at the cure that could heal any of the three humans waiting expectantly. Rereading the instructions, she lingered over the line: “To whom you shall give it to?” She repeated it to herself, realizing the potion would allow her to heal all three. “It does not restrict me to just one,” she declared aloud in relief.
Seizing three goblets from the table, Hermione poured the potion evenly into each. She paused, doubting her solution but determined to rescue all three humans, even if this risky act was the only option. With a deep breath, she unsteadily handed them the drinks. Bracing herself as intuition warned that something loomed, Hermione’s anticipation quickly faded when the trio downed the potion without incident, leaving her sighing in mingled relief and letdown. Trudging to the door, she reached to open it when something peculiar occurred.
A throbbing pain hit her temples like a hammer, and a vision suddenly began to form in her mind’s eye. She felt as if she was watching a strange memory unfold, though she could not tell whose it was. Had Ron, Harry, and Ginny seen the same vision before vanishing through the door? She panicked at the thought. Brief images flashed of the four of them—herself, Ron, Harry, and Ginny—laughing joyously together outside a cozy cottage by the sea. They looked at ease, even blissful in one another’s company, as though they had long been the closest of companions.
Image after incomprehensible image flashed through her mind, a sudden onslaught of visions she couldn’t understand. It was as if she had been granted a glimpse into another dimension, where one certainty emerged: the four of them, once enemies, were now the closest of friends after going through so much together.
Hermione’s sight was flooded with a new scene before she could interpret the meaning of the previous one. She saw herself holding a large, pearly and jade volume emblazoned with “Anima.” Frowning at this unfamiliar tome, phantom Ginny and Ron hovered around it while a pale, sickly Harry lay in bed behind them. Glancing around the small room, it seemed they were discussing something of importance, though she couldn’t hear it. Squinting in hopes of fully witnessing the vision or gleaning their conversation, Hermione strained in vain before the images blinked away as suddenly as they had appeared.
Hermione stared blankly at the plain brown door in front of her. “What just happened?” she whispered, her heart racing. She had never had visions before. Were they part of the challenge or something more? she anxiously wondered. Feeling dizzy and confused, she stumbled through the door.
To be continued...