The Goblet lit up for the third time, and Dumbledore grabbed the piece of paper that it spat out. "And finally, the champion for Hogwarts is... Cedric Diggory."

The Great Hall exploded with another round of applause, most noticeably the Hufflepuff table. Dumbledore raised his hands to calm the crowd as Cedric walked to the meeting room for the champions. "Now that that's out of the way, there will be a few changes to this years schedule to accommodate this event. Firstly, there will not be a Quidditch Tournament this year. I know some of you were..."

Suddenly, the Goblet lit up again. Everyone turned to stare at the cup, except for one Fourth Year Gryffindor. Only one thought ran through the mind of Harry Potter. 'No.' The Goblet shot another piece of paper into the air. 'No, no, no.' Dumbledore regained his composure and reached out to grab the scrap.

"Harry..."

"NO!" Harry shouted, jumping up from his seat. "Every fucking year! I didn't do this, and I am not going to be a part of this bullshit."

"Harry, the Goblet of Fire represents a binding magical contract. You have to participate, or you will lose your magic," Dumbledore said, looking down at the young man causing a scene in the middle of the hall.

"You don't see anything wrong with this, professor. It's called the TRI-Wizard Tournament. TRI, as in three. Also, it can't be just a coincidence that my name came out of that thing. Every goddamn year something ridiculous and dangerous happens to me. First year I did kind of bring it on to myself by trying to solve the problem myself, but in my defense, you just happened to be gone from the castle. Second year is entirely on you guys though. How do three twelve year old children connect the dots between dead chickens, paralyzed students, and Salazar Slytherin before a group of the strongest and most respected witches and wizards in Magical England? Not to mention, when it came time to solve the problem, where were you? Oh yeah, conveniently gone from the castle again. Then, last year, you just let Dementors wander around the ground like they owned the place, and I had to learn a Fifth year spell just to survive walking outside the front door. I'm looking around the room here, and I see some confused faces. Oh, right, sorry. I've been talking like everyone knows what's been going on here the past few years. I forgot that besides me, my friends, and Professor Dumbledore, no one knows anything because Dumbles here,do you mind if I call you Dumbles, no, good, Dumbles here keeps sweeping it under the rug. Allow me to get you all caught up to speed."

"Harry my boy, I think that's quite enough now," Dumbledore said, slowly sending out some magic to try and convince Harry to stop talking. But Harry's pent up rage was finally exploding, causing a storm of magic to flare up around him. The Headmaster's subtle Legillemency probe was shredded apart by the power radiating off of the boy.

"I disagree. I think the students have a right to know just how meaningless their lives are to you. So, everyone remembers that really ominous opening speech a few years ago, right? 'The third floor corridor is off limits to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.' First of all, what the fuck kind of warning is that? Was anyone less curious about it after that? No, no you weren't, don't even pretend that you were. 'Also, as a reminder, we are doing some remodeling on the third floor, and as a precaution, we ask that you stay out of the way to avoid possible injury.' That's how you keep someone out of a place. To answer your silent question, it was a Cerberus. A giant three headed dog, gaurding a trapdoor, that led to a series of puzzles so simple, that two Muggle-raised children who had never heard of magic before coming here and an idiot (no offense, Ron, but, come on) were able to beat them. What were they gaurding, you ask? Nothing important, just the goddamn Sorceror's Stone. You know, turns lead to gold, grants eternal life, that Sorceror's Stone. 'But Harry, who were they gaurding it from?' Good question, imaginary student. Voldemort, yeah yeah, cringe all you want, VOLDEMORT was possessing Proffesor Quirrel. Any questions so far? No? Good, moving on to second year. Like I said earlier, dead chickens plus paralyzed students plus Salazar Slytherin equals? If you guessed Basilisk, congratulations, you're smarter than Dumbles up there. A fucking 40ft long poisonous snake monster. You're all welcome by the way, because while you were blaming me for the attacks, I went down into the lair of the beast and killed it with a sword. Yeah, that's right. The TWELVE YEAR OLD KID that you thought was causing the attacks had to fight a BASILISK with a FUCKING SWORD. I already pretty nicely summed up last year, so let's get back to now. If what you're saying is true, then I either play your stupid game, or lose my magic, right? Well fuck you. If I participate, it is almost guaranteed to be a trap. If I don't participate, I get kicked out of Magic-Land. Honestly, from my experiences here, I think I'll risk it back in the Muggle world." Harry then pulled out his wand, threw it at Dumbledore, and started walking towards the door. "Good bye, good luck, and go fuck yourself," Harry said, flipping the whole room off, before slamming the door behind him.