Just like Dumbledore had said, Cohen found Harry pacing near the second-floor staircase.

"Cohen, did they come to a decision? And why did it say 'Azkaban' in front of your name? Does this mean we don't have to compete—?"

"I thought you were dying to take part in the Triwizard Tournament," Cohen said. "You've been dreaming about it nonstop…"

"But Professor Dumbledore must be furious," Harry said nervously. "I have no idea who put our names in... Now the whole school probably thinks we're shameless cheaters…"

"Well, it's not like we cheated during the actual tasks," Cohen shrugged. "Dumbledore and the others decided everything will proceed according to the rules—we still have to compete… Which makes it feel like they didn't really decide anything at all."

"Huh?" Harry's jaw dropped.

"And Dumbledore didn't seem upset. Either you or Cedric winning still means a win for Hogwarts. We've got a two-in-five chance of bringing it home." Cohen added.

"Cedric and me? What about you?" Harry asked.

"I'm representing Azkaban," Cohen replied matter-of-factly. "Didn't you see what was written on that slip of paper? I've got no choice now but to enter as a fourth faction."

"But Azkaban isn't even a school!" Harry exclaimed. "It's a prison!"

"Mr. Crouch said they'll spin it as a glitch in the Goblet of Fire," Cohen explained. "So for now, I'm temporarily affiliated with Azkaban—it makes the heads of the other schools feel a bit better."

"Well…" Harry sighed, "At least we're not going through this alone. I can't imagine how I'd handle the tournament by myself…"

When they arrived at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, the Fat Lady beamed at them.

"Oh yes, Violet told me—Gryffindor's got two champions this year, is that right?"

"Nonsense," Harry muttered.

"I did not lie!" the pale witch in Violet's portrait huffed indignantly.

"That's the password," Cohen explained. "You portraits sure get news fast."

"Of course we do," Violet said proudly, puffing out her chest.

As soon as they stepped into the common room, cheers and chatter exploded around them.

Fred and George were shouting as they hoisted Harry and Cohen into the air. "Why didn't you tell us you entered?!" They didn't sound angry—just incredibly excited.

"Well, it's not me, but hey—we're all Gryffindors," Angelina said happily. "You two have to win this thing!"

"How did you even do it?" Colin Creevey asked dreamily, dragging his little brother along as he gazed up at them.

While Harry kept repeating that he hadn't put his name in the Goblet, Cohen was already lounging in a mountain of Honeydukes sweets, eating like there was no tomorrow.

"Life's like a Cruciatus Curse," Cohen said as he offered Harry a Chocolate Frog. "If you can't fight it, just accept it."

"I'm exhausted," Harry muttered, taking the frog, still wrapped in the Gryffindor banner Lee Jordan had draped over his shoulders.

"Then sleep it is—alright, folks, party's over!" Cohen shouted to the still-celebrating Gryffindors. "We've got a prep session for the first task tomorrow. Get some rest!"

On their way upstairs to the dorms, Cohen and Harry ran into Ron.

"Ron? How long have you been here?" Harry asked, surprised to find him stiffly leaning against the wall.

"Oh. You're done celebrating," Ron said, forcing an awkward, obviously strained smile. He glanced at the banner wrapped around Harry and then at the pile of sweets in Cohen's arms. "Congratulations."

"What do you mean, congratulations?" Harry frowned.

"How'd you get past the age line?" Ron's eyes darted between the two of them. "Invisibility Cloak? Magical creatures?"

"You know the Cloak wouldn't work—" Harry began.

"And non-human creatures can't enter their names," Cohen added.

"Right, which means you'd have taken me along if you were doing that…" Ron muttered. "And Cohen, you saw me come back from the Hall last night… you must've already entered by then—with Harry."

"I didn't ask Cohen to help me enter! And Cohen didn't enter himself, either!" Harry snapped, clearly losing patience. "Can't you tell? Someone else put our names in—"

"Why would they do that?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"To expose Cohen, or to get me killed?" Harry guessed wildly.

"You could've just told me the truth," Ron mumbled, staring at the ground, his ears turning red. "Just like last time, at that inn… I thought we were…"

"You thought we were what?" Harry said angrily. "Fine, I'll just say it—we used a Time-Turner at that inn. Hermione took us back in time. The chain just wasn't long enough to bring all of us. What did you think it was? We've always been friends. We've never hidden anything from each other. Not even the stuff about Cohen—"

"Yeah, sure…" Ron muttered skeptically.

"If you really don't believe us, then there's no point continuing this," Cohen said calmly. "Harry's telling the truth."

There wasn't much point arguing anymore. Ron was overflowing with jealousy and frustration—a natural part of growing up.

"You're even bringing Time-Turners into the story now," Ron said bitterly. "Is that how you did it this time too? You know I'm not stupid."

"Then stop acting like it," Harry snapped. "What do you want us to—"

"You two need to get some sleep," Ron said coldly. "I shouldn't keep you. You've got… training and interviews and all that tomorrow…"

With that, he turned and walked away.

Harry looked miserable—he had expected Ron to believe his friends.

Cohen, on the other hand, wasn't too bothered. This was typical Ron—suspicious and emotional, especially at this age. And technically, Cohen had done all those things.

"Completely irrational," Harry muttered angrily.

"He's just overwhelmed. He'll get over it," Cohen replied.

And if he didn't… well, Cohen could always offer him a little Dementor-special emotional therapy.

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