The camera smoked as a photograph was taken. Rosalyn faked a smile desperately as she tried to pretend she was happy with risking her life for something she didn't want.

Rosalyn had gone back up to the castle and to the only place she was sure that Harry and Ron wouldn't be. The Library. However, she had only been there for about ten minutes when she was being told by Madam Pince that she was wanted back in the trophy room.

That was where she stood, right now, as photos were taken of her and the champions. There were photos together, individual photos, photos of the girls, the boys, the schools...

Just let it end, Rosalyn thought the whole time. I don't want to be here, let it end...

Finally, the reporter was there, the reporter that Rosalyn wasn't in a hurry to meet. She stepped through the smoke and the red head got a good look at her. She was very... Bright.

She had curly blonde hair that was styled on top of her head and glasses (Rosalyn suspected they were fake) teetering on the edge of her nose. Her robes were lime green and the cuffs and collar were puffy and furry.

She might dress well, Rosalyn thought, but there's something about her that I don't like.

The woman stepped forward and said. "What a charismatic performance." Then she stepped forward and introducing herself, shaking all of their hands in turn. "I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the Daily Prophet."

Not only was she annoying, she was also full of herself as well. This showed in what she said next. "But of course you know who I am. It's you we don't know."

She laughed. "You're the juicy news, what quirks hide behind those, rosy cheeks." She touched Fleur's cheek and then slapped it. "What mysteries do the muscles mask?" She ruffled Cedric's hair. "Does courage lie behind those curls, ensures what makes a champion, tick." Rosalyn rolled her eyes as she put an arm around her and Cedric, "Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers, so... who would be brave enough to share it? Mm?"

No one spoke. Skeeter then said. "Shall we start with the youngest? Lovely." And pulled Rosalyn away.

They entered a broom cupboard off the side of the room and an acid green quill as well as a brown leather notebook jumped up to Rita as she entered. "This is cosy," she remarked as they went in, Rosalyn rolled her eyes.

"This is a broom cupboard."

"You should feel right at home then," Skeeter was really getting on Rosalyn's nerves. "Don't mind if I use a quick-quotes quill do you?"

"What is that?" Rosalyn asked, she had a feeling she wouldn't be a fan.

"Ah, it doesn't matter." Rita went into full reporter mode. "So tell me Rosalyn. Here you sit, a mere girl of twelve-"

"I'm fourteen," Rosalyn said.

Rita completely ignored her. "About to compete against three students not only vastly more emotionally mature than yourself, but have mastered spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizziest daydreams. Concerned?" She made a stupid face as her quill came up beside her.

"No," Rosalyn said surely, her eyes on the quill. If the whole world was going to hate her, she might as well be confident in herself and not break down.

"Just ignore the quill," Rita assured her. "Now, you're not an ordinary girl of twelve are you?"

"I'm. Fourteen," Rosalyn repeated.

"Your story's legend. Do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament."

"I didn't enter!" Rosalyn shouted. "You can listen or you can't but I didn't enter!"

"Course you didn't," She winked at her annoyingly. "Everyone loves a rebel Rosalyn." She laughed and told the quill. "Scratch that last."

Rosalyn just wanted this woman to LISTEN. "Can you just-"

Rita cut across her. "Now, your parents if they were here, how d'you think they'd feel? Proud or concerned of their twelve year old girl?"

"I'm bloody fourteen!" Rosalyn was getting angry now, she could feel it bubbling up inside of her.

"Oh, yes, of course you are. But would they really have no regrets about your attitude showing a pathological need for attention? And a psychotic death wish?"

"I don't!" Rosalyn said, annoyed. "You know what, if you can't report properly and you can't listen I'm getting the hell out of here."

She gave a sarcastic wave as she got up and left. Skeeter looked slightly crestfallen but Rosalyn had no regrets about what she had done. She walked out of the trophy room and was walking along a corridor when she heard a sound. It was an owl's screech.

"Ruby!"

Her owl had arrived back with, no doubt, a letter from Sirius and Izzy. Rosalyn went to open it but soon realised that there was no letter there. Rosalyn asked where the letter was and Ruby motioned to the owlrey. Rosalyn sighed as her owl flew up there and she began the journey.

When she got up there, she saw that another bird had Sirius's letter, and Ruby had simply been the guide. Rosalyn walked towards the other owl, grabbed the letter and unfolded it, reading the message from her Godfather and aunt. There were actually two separate letters. Rosalyn read the first one from Izzy:

Hey Rosie,

Sorry that there's two separate letters here. Padfoot and I couldn't agree on who would write one and I needed to tell you some stuff.

First off, you need alliances. Trust your friends, tell them stuff, keep them close. The Ministry's become very cautious about everything since the world cup so you need to be too.

Remember, Rosie, if you ever need my help, or even just have a worry, tell me and I'll be by your side in a heartbeat. I think you'll be much better company than Padfoot is.

(That's a joke. Don't worry, we're doing fine).

If you've already read Padfoot's letter, then you know what you need to do.

Love,

Scarlet

Rosalyn smiled and moved on to Sirius' letter, hoping to find out what her aunt was talking about:

Rosalyn,

I couldn't risk sending Ruby, ever since the world cup the Ministry's been intercepting more and more owls and she's too easily recognisable.

We need to talk, Rosie, face to face. Meet me in the Gryffindor common room at one o'clock this Saturday and make sure you're alone. Scarlet will be there too.

Padfoot

P.S-

"Ah!" The owl had bitten Rosalyn's fingers and she sucked it as she read the last three words of the letter.

The bird bites

"Could've told me before," Rosalyn muttered.

☆☆☆

It was five to one on Saturday, and Rosalyn was climbing down the stone steps from her dorm. She was cold and each step basically froze her feet.

She eventually got onto the soft carpet of the common room and whispered. "Sirius?" Into thin air. There was no answer. Rosalyn didn't know how her Godfather was going to get here, but she hoped he'd make it quick.

She saw her interview in the Daily Prophet sitting on a table, and snatched up the newspaper immediately. The article was shaped like the Triwizard Cup with a picture of her in the centre and it read itself in Rita's voice as she picked it up.

"Rosalyn Potter, aged twelve, is hesitant to speak about why she entered the tournament, her parents are making her eyes glisten with the ghost of her past- ahhh!"

Rosalyn scrunched up the paper and chucked it into the fire in pure anger. The fire was burning low in the grate now, the ashes struggling to hold onto the flame.

Rosalyn soon found out why. She turned round as she heard a low grunt, and soon saw a man's face pushing up into the ash. This man was Sirius Black.

"Sirius?" Rosalyn asked.

Then another face appeared beside his. A woman's.

"Izzy?" Rosalyn asked. "What-"

Sirius said nothing by way of greeting, but he acknowledged that she was there.

"Now we don't have much time Rosalyn so let me get straight to it. We received your second letter today. Did you or did you not put your name into the goblet of fire?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell all the idiots that-"

Izzy took over. "Shh! Sorry, Rosie, but we had to ask. Now tell me about your dream, you mentioned Voldemort and Wormtail but who was the other man in the room?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't hear a name?"

"No," Rosalyn hesitated. "Um... Voldemort was giving him a job to do. Something important."

"And what was that?" Sirius took back over and asked.

"He- he wanted... me," Rosalyn finally spat out. "I- I dunno why, but he was gonna use this man to get to me." She sighed and tried to reassure herself. "But, I mean, it was only a dream, right?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "It's just a dream. Look, Rosalyn, the death eaters at the world cup, your name rising from that goblet... these are not just coincidences, Hogwarts isn't safe anymore."

"What are you saying?" Rosalyn asked, wide eyes.

"I'm saying the devils are inside the walls. Igor Karkaroff, he was a death eater and no one, no one, stops being a death eater. Then there's Barty Crouch, heart of stone, sent his own son to Azkaban-"

Suddenly upstairs a door opened. Rosalyn looked around. No one could discover that Sirius was here. No one in the dormitories except Hermione.

"Do you think one of them put my name in the goblet?" Rosalyn asked.

Izzy answered. "I have no idea who put your name in that goblet, Rosie, but whoever did it is no friend to you. People die in this tournament."

"I'm not ready for this, guys," Rosalyn said, feeling sick to the stomach at what she would have to face and swallowing a huge lump in her throat.

"You don't have a choice," Sirius said, and Rosalyn pursed her lips.

She suddenly heard footsteps upstairs.

"Someone's coming," Rosalyn said, shaking.

"Keep your friends close, Rosie," Izzy warned again, quickly, before Rosalyn sat up.

Friend, Rosalyn thought bitterly before standing up. She crossed the common room and then saw someone coming down the stairs. Great, she thought as Harry appeared in the darkness.

"Who were you talking to?" Her brother blindly accused.

"Who says I was talking to anyone?" Rosalyn challenged.

But Harry did not relent. "I heard voices."

"Did you?" Rosalyn asked. "Maybe it's just those bloody lies that Skeeter wrote about me speaking in the newspaper. Though knowing you, you'd probably believe them. You like imagining things, don't you? And hearing voices wouldn't be the first time you're creating lies to avoid facing the truth."

Her face was set, her voice was hard and as she looked at her brother right now, they both wondered when this would ever end. Harry walked towards his sister and wondered what had taught her to be such a good arguer. He shot back. "Probably just practicing for your next interview, I expect. You like those, don't you?" He put on an exaggerated voice that was Rosalyn's. "Oh, look at me! I'm so famous, I love it, come and get my autograph!"

Tears spiked Rosalyn's eyes. "You think that's me?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Harry..." Rosalyn said, imploring him to not just listen, but to actually hear. "I'm lonely, sad, sentenced to death, nobody believes me and the whole school thinks I'm mad. You not believing me is just one more thing I can't deal with. You're just one more thing I can't deal with."

Harry swallowed. "If that's how you feel, you can leave."

"Who made this common room yours?" Rosalyn retorted. "If I want to leave, I'll fucking leave by myself."

She headed up the stairs. Harry stared after her, wondering if she was ever going to see sense.

And Rosalyn was thinking the exact same thing. She lay, fuming, in bed, and wondered if jealousy was going to outweigh friendship, or the other way round.