Harry Potter.4 -

Ron was snoring in the next bed, still not talking to him. Hermione had sent him a message via a tiny, folded paper crane that morning: “Read about Swiveling Distraction Spells. Page 394.” But Harry had barely opened Magical Me without wanting to throw it across the tent.

Not because of the usual nightmares — though those had been worse lately, all flashing green light and high, cold laughter — but because of the dragon. Harry Potter.4

He walked back toward the tent, leaving Harry alone under a scatter of cold stars. Ron was snoring in the next bed, still not talking to him

“Then you’ve already fought something worse than a dragon,” Cedric said. “You fought being thrown into something you didn’t choose. And you’re still here. That’s not luck, Potter. That’s spine.” Not because of the usual nightmares — though

He sat up, pulled on his trainers, and crept out into the Champions’ enclosure.

“You didn’t put your name in,” Cedric added quietly.