Chapter 79: 4-1

From the very next day, Harry was subjected to a barrage of bashing, making him feel like he was walking on a bed of nails. The silent condemnation from the Hufflepuff students was especially prominent. Cedric tried his best to act as a shield for Harry, but that only ended up raising Cedric's own stock while fueling the image of Harry Potter as a shameless, attention-seeking brat exploiting Cedric's kindness.

Feeling as though even the teachers’ eyes had turned icy towards him, Harry’s only refuge was with Hermione and Maria. Hermione and I defended Harry as much as we possibly could, but even that just became another target for ridicule. ("If there were an event for hiding behind girls' backs, he'd definitely be number one! A true Champion indeed," Parkinson had laughed vulgarly.)

As if he wasn't already fed up with this unprecedented level of discomfort (this Harry hadn't experienced being the scapegoat during our second year), his falling out with Ron cornered him even further.

"I heard Hermione went to the hospital wing. She got hit by a Slytherin tooth-growing hex. Instead of you. It's your fault, isn't it?"

"Oh, is that so? Right, it's all my fault. I suppose it's because the attention-seeking, arrogant Harry Potter survived that day instead of dying. And? I thought you weren't talking to me anymore. But it's different if it's for Hermione? What a great friendship."

"Harry, Ron, knock it off."

I stepped between the two of them, who looked ready to draw their wands at any second. However, unlike Hermione who maintained her neutrality, Ron viewed me as an enemy who exclusively sided with Harry, so I was only met with a glare. That, in turn, made Harry angry at Ron all over again. It was nothing but a vicious cycle.

I couldn't stop them, and I couldn't leave them alone—what was I supposed to do?

"Harry, Ron is just sulking. So... er, I mean?"

"You're telling me to just put up with it? That I should be the one to apologize? Say, 'I didn't put my name in the Goblet, but I'm sorry I got picked over you'?"

"Harry..."

As I helped Harry with his Potions brewing—which was getting increasingly sloppy due to his anger—I couldn't find the right words and ultimately ended up being talked down.

It was obvious that Ron was being childish. But Harry was a genuine child too, and expecting him to make all the concessions was definitely unfair. However, if I tried to lecture Ron, it was clear he would only grow more stubborn. Fourteen is a complicated age.

While Harry headed off to the Weighing of the Wands, Hermione and I held our regular strategy meeting in the common room. Ron was hanging out with Seamus, Dean, and the others, so heaven only knew where he was.

"They're both children," Hermione said.

"They are literally children, yes."

"I mean they're emotionally immature!"

"If a child were fully mature... wouldn't that be a monster? Ah, no, Hermione, I don't mean you. Don't look at me like that."

I waved my hands in a panic, only to be met with a difficult retort: "Then who are you talking about?" Oops. I dug my own grave there.

"Ahem, anyway. I think we have no choice but to leave Ron to you, Hermione. He treats both Harry and me like enemies, after all."

"Taking it out on Maria! He's my brother, but it's pathetic."

Ginny, who had seamlessly joined our group at some point, fumed with dissatisfaction. It seemed Ginny was one of the people in the "Harry didn't put his name in" camp. Good, our allies were steadily increasing. I had to let Harry know.

"It looks like Draco is managing things over in Slytherin somehow, and Cedric is acting as a stopper in Hufflepuff. As for Ravenclaw..."

I wanted to say Luna, but we hadn't interacted with her yet. Unlike last time, the sheer absence of those obnoxious Potter Stinks badges made things seem better to me... but for Harry, who had no way of knowing that, this current moment was sheer hell.

...A bit of my old annoyance from back then just resurfaced. I’ll have to tease Draco about this later.

"Besides, H-Harry isn't that kind of person, and Ron knows that better than anyone!"

Ginny tightly grabbed my arm (she was unbelievably cute!) and spiritedly pleaded her case, while Hermione nodded repeatedly in total agreement.

"Exactly. Ron knows it perfectly well. That's why he's just sulking. Having started the fight, he's simply passed the point of no return. Honestly, boys..."

"They're so childish!"

"Hahaha..."

Listening to the debate between these two young ladies—who looked like the delegates for all womankind—I, clearly being on the boys' side of things, could only offer a dry laugh. Girls really are... precocious.

By the next day, when Rita Skeeter's entirely fabricated feature article on Harry Potter hit the stands, the situation had only gone from bad to worse. Harsh glares were now being directed at Hermione, who had been arbitrarily painted as Harry's girlfriend in the Daily Prophet, which created a reality that was even less amusing for Ron. Caught in the middle of her best friends' feud and dealing with the slander, Hermione's stress was reaching its absolute limit.

"Oh my, if it isn't the lovely, cute little girlfriend of our hero, Harry Potter. How do you do? That bushy hair of yours is charming as always today."

"Get lost."

"Eek!? W-What... you're the one looking like a ghost..."

"If you don't want to end up looking the same, get lost."

Even Pansy Parkinson—who was always picking fights with us (especially with Maria and Hermione; perhaps out of sheer girl pride)—reacted exactly like this to Hermione's ghostly, intimidating intensity. She was silenced by a single glare, swatted away like a bothersome kitten.

Hermione was constantly radiating an ominous aura, looking as though she might suggest going for a hunt in the Forbidden Forest at any moment. Though her prey would only be a single bug.

"Rita Skeeter... I'll remember this..."

Clutching her subscribed copy of the Daily Prophet, this fourteen-year-old girl was already showing glimpses of the Mrs. Weasley 'I' knew—a terrifying wife who would ruthlessly hunt down anyone she deemed an enemy. Seeing her like this, I couldn't bring myself to tease her with, "Hey, Hermione, did you get your front teeth shrunk? Let me guess, Madam Pomfrey fixed them after that tooth-growing hex the other day?" Her back practically projected the illusion of a battle-hardened warrior.

But let's put the feud between Hermione and Rita Skeeter aside for now.

The day of the First Task was steadily approaching. Having been tipped off about the dragons by Hagrid and passing that information along to Cedric, Harry—prompted by a reply letter from Sirius—seemed to finally grasp the reality that someone out there genuinely wanted to do him harm. His Summoning Charm training with Hermione was progressing well... but his immediate worry (aside from the dragon, obviously) remained Ron.

Let's be clear. Harry loves Ron. He likes him more than Hermione. It's perfectly natural psychology to feel closer to your very first best friend of the same gender than to a friend of the opposite gender. A friend he could just laugh with over the silly things that Hermione would scold him for—that was Ron. Therefore—

"Don't be so stubborn."

He was just lonely and sulking.

Harry, sporting a deep pout, dragged me into an empty classroom and restrained me for several minutes. With his whole body. With his arms wrapped tightly around my neck and shoulders. I had been turned into a body pillow for my little brother to silently vent his frustrations on.

It can't be helped, I thought, hopping up to sit on a nearby desk and hugging Harry back. Even though he was already fourteen, I let him rest against my lap, just like when he was five or six and I used to hold him while sitting on a bed. ...Surely, this kind of thing was just another reason Ron found us creepy. ...Ah, I hated this. If even I got depressed, who was going to look after Harry?

"It's okay, you'll make up eventually. You don't need to apologize first. Ron knows that too."

"...But we just end up fighting. Maria, you say that, but he's being completely pigheaded."

"You're both stubborn. If Ron tried to talk to you right now, I bet this time you'd be the one to run away, wouldn't you, Harry?"

"......"

"You can make that face, but your big sister sees right through you."

Because—I am 'me'.

I stroked the head of the boy whose pout had only deepened. For instance, I feel like the 'me' back then was thinking highly extreme things, like, 'If I just get eaten by the dragon right in front of Ron, he'd regret it.' I don't know just how stubborn this version of Harry has grown up to be—he's definitively better off than the 'me' who could only spin my wheels all alone—but the point was, he was hurting this much simply because he loved Ron. And I wanted to believe—that it was the exact same for Ron.

"It's alright, your big sister guarantees it. You two will make up. So right now, just focus on what's right in front of you. You're going to outsmart a dragon, right?"

"Yeah..."

"You have Hermione, you have me... we even technically have Draco and the others, plus Cedric. With this many people believing in you, your worrying is quite a luxury. ...Though, not a single one of us could ever replace Ron."

"Really."

The arms wrapped around me tightened. My posture was starting to feel a little strained, but it couldn't be helped. I'd consider it the inescapable destiny of having a spoiled little brother. Albus creeping into my bed on sleepless nights was just like this, too.

"You're so cute, my little spoiled baby Harry."

"...I told you, I'm the older brother."

"Ah, hey. Harry, that hurts. Ow, ow, don't strangle me, I said I'm sorry! Stop with the headlock!"

The day of the First Task arrived. Harry had lost all color in his face and looked as if he had absolutely no idea where he was or what he was doing.

Cedric, Fleur, Krum, and Harry were called out from the Great Hall. Hermione sent a hushed cheer his way, but it was uncertain if it actually registered in Harry's brain. It might have been drowned out by his sheer tension halfway down his ear canal.

Ron shot a brief glance at Harry, opened his mouth once, and then clenched his fist. Whether he meant to offer a sarcastic jab or a word of support, no words came out in the end.

Afternoon classes were canceled, and everyone rushed outside to secure a spot to watch. I didn't head for the stands; instead, I chased after him.

"—Ron."

Sitting in silence in the Gryffindor common room, our best friend looked up at me with terribly exhausted eyes.

"What? If I'm out there, I'll just distract Harry."

"That doesn't matter. He won't be able to see the stands anyway. He has a dragon right in front of him, you know?"

A dragon. At that word, Ron's eyes snapped wide open.

Ah, thank goodness—Ron is worried about Harry. He's anxious for Harry's sake. ...Finally, I could feel relieved. The pain 'I' felt that day wasn't in vain. —'I' was saved.

"Ron, will you help me? For Harry."

"He doesn't need my help now. He has Hermione, and he has you. Isn't that enough?"

"Maybe. But it's not enough. —Without you, Harry can't stand back up."

"Oh, is that right? It must be nice that Maria is so terribly grown-up! All adults think that if they just spout pretty words, stupid kids will swallow them."

"You're exactly right. Adults are arrogant. But these aren't just pretty words. It's a simple fact."

You, agonizing over your reason for being, suffering from an inferiority complex. That same 'you'.

"Harry absolutely needs you, Ron."

In the empty common room with just the two of us, my voice sounded remarkably clear.

The reason I was able to keep desperately clinging to life was because of Ron and Hermione—because 'my' best friends were there. Because when I was forced out onto the battlefield, told to shoulder my destiny entirely on my own, you guys stayed standing right by my side. Because you tried to survive it together with me.

The hero, Harry Potter, only became a hero once he gained his friends.

"This is stupid. I'm not smart like Hermione. I'm not put-together like Maria. Harry is always in danger—what good can a piece of dead weight like me do?"

"You give Harry an escape route."

Ron shook his head, completely failing to understand.

"Hermione tells him he can't run away. And she's right. But, you know? Just being 'right' is incredibly painful. Hermione's righteousness can be very cruel sometimes. But in times like that, you... you try to be there for Harry, the Harry who wants to run away from that righteousness, right alongside him."

Hermione searches for the clues to victory, and Ron provides the courage to stand up. If either one is missing, I can't move forward.

"Listen to me. Harry needs a presence like that. Just being right isn't enough. It's not about what's beneficial or useful. If he doesn't have someone to fail with him—and someone to laugh with him because of it—he truly will become all alone.

"I'll say it as many times as it takes. Harry needs you, Ron. He needs Hermione too. The reality Harry is being forced to face is not so forgiving that having just one of you would suffice. That's not enough. Without both of you, he can't fight at all."

I took the hand of the silently standing Ron. These hands were Maria's hands. My words were Maria's words. Even so, please—believe in me... believe in Harry.

"Ron—will you help Harry? And then, you need to see it for yourself with your own eyes. See who in this world is... the closest to death."

And see the presence of the immense malice that Harry is trying to confront.

We ran. I could hear the cheering. The enthusiasm wrapped around the enclosure. Krum was standing there with a scowl, a Golden Egg secured in his hands. —We made it in time.

Harry's name was called. Harry stood before the ferocious dragon, the Hungarian Horntail. He was deathly pale. He was trembling. He looked terrible. It wasn't the face of a warrior. It was the face of a child forced to fight, using fate and hope as his only shield.

Harry raised his wand. —"Accio! Firebolt!"

From Ron's hands, the Firebolt shot forth gallantly into the sky.