None of the Harry Potter characters, settings, merchandise, etc. belongs to me. All are rightfully J.K. Rowling's.

Canon up to GoF where the story begins at the announcement of Harry Potter as Fourth Triwizard.

In Harry Potter's Shadow

By BriiDream

Chapter One

"Harry Potter!"

The entire Great Hall was silent; shock stood out on every single face, including that of said boy. The three Triwizard Champions had already been named. Not only that, Harry was underage, making it illegal for him to participate in the most exciting tournament ever.

Hardly call it a surprise-everything happens to famous Harry Potter. The bitter thought ran loose through a certain redheaded teenager as he watched the boy he befriended three years ago stumble past the teachers and foreign guests to where the other Champions awaited. Professor Dumbledore dismissed all of them distractedly before hurrying off with the other professors to deal with this new addition.

As soon as they left the Great Hall, everyone burst with indignation and angry arguments. How did Potter manage to put his name into the Goblet of Fire. It was unfair; Potter was just a kid. The Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students were the most offended. They demanded second champions be chosen from their schools as well. The normally mild Hufflepuffs were vengeful.

"It's impossible to pass the Age Line," Hermione insisted for the umpteenth time as they entered the Gryffindor Tower. "Harry couldn't have done it whatsoever. It would require a very powerful wizard."

"We all know Harry is powerful," Seamus interrupted her heatedly. "He fought Quirrell in first year, and defeated a basilisk in second, right? How hard would it be for him to slip his name into the Goblet of Fire?!"

"Give it up, Hermione," Ron said coldly from the corner where he was being effectively ignored. As usual, Harry had taken center stage again; the Boy-Who-Did-Amazing-Stunts wasn't even in the room. "Harry found a way and didn't tell anybody. With his luck, I'm not surprised."

Ron didn't wait for Hermione's reply. He headed up to his dorm wanting to escape the growing din in the Common Room. The majority of the other Gryffindors were disgruntled, but Ron knew it wouldn't last. Harry was too famous to be mad at for long.

Ron quickly stripped and pulled on his pajamas. He stared resentfully at the ends of his pants that came up a few inches above his ankles; the sleeves were too short and growing tight around his arms; one or two buttons were missing, so he often didn't button the top up. The dark sweats that Harry slept in were draped across the bottom of the bed beside him. Harry didn't wear the same pajamas for the past four years, that were already secondhand before they reached him. He had mountains of gold sitting in a vault in Gringotts. He was everything Ron wasn't and would never be.

The door to the dorm creaked open. Ron glared up through his bangs as Harry slipped into the room. He ignored the pale skin of his friend (which had yet to gain even one blemish). Harry turned towards him, then to his bed. Harry pulled on his sweats, his back to Ron. Red flashed over his eyes, blinding him even more than his bangs, while his blood boiled.

"How d'you do it?"

"Do what," Harry's voice was muffled through his robes as he yanked them over his head. He still didn't face Ron.

"How did you get past the Age Line and trick the Goblet," Ron forced through his clenched teeth. He stood up, his entire body begging to explode. "And why didn't you share the secret with me?"

"I didn't put my name in the Goblet," Harry continued to speak with his back to Ron. The contempt of the gesture infuriated Ron more.

"Oh, yeah right," Ron spat. "I would think seeing as I'm your best friend, you would not try to pull such a stupid lie with me-"

"I'm not lying," Harry spun around, his green eyes flashing. "I didn't put my name into the Goblet of Fire!"

"How stupid am I," Ron shouted back, uncaring if his voice traveled down the stairs. "Why would the great Harry Potter ever share his way to triumph with me? Come on, even when I'm there, it's still all your fame! Quirrell, the Chamber of Secrets! Ron Weasley is just there to carry the famous Potter's cape."

"I didn't put my name in the Cup," Harry was quieter than Ron, but not by a large margin. "I didn't ask for any of this! And if you won't believe me, you're just as stupid as you appear to be!"

Ron reeled back, his face red. He couldn't hear anything, see anything; but he felt his mouth open, felt his throat burned with the vicious retort. "I'm so sorry you had to put up with my stupidity then! I wished I could undo everything! Helping you, meeting you, ever having set eyes on you! I would be in a different House if only to escape your utter – selfishness-you're beyond Malfoy's level!"

"That's the closest you can come to sensibility?" Harry turned his back again, climbing into bed. He yanked his curtains shut, without another word.

"Whenever did you listen to common sense," Ron whispered before storming out of the dorm. He felt completely numb. He didn't even stop in shock at the sight of his three other dormmates who stood frozen outside the door. He pushed through the still crowded Common Room, out into the halls. The lights were out.

Ron trembled in his rage and pain. He no longer sensed the outside world. He simply tried to keep in movement. He didn't know where the anger had come from, but he wasn't willing to let it go now. The blood-boiling fury empowered him beyond what anything had done before.

The ground beneath his feet disappeared. He was yanked back into the real world with that realization. He fell, unbalanced, down the rest of the moving stairs. He was unable to catch himself on the ledge and went right over it. He cried out as he plummeted through empty space before hitting another set of steps several yards below. He tumbled down them to the ground floor. Far above him, he heard the whisper of the first staircase stopping at its new landing.

Ron ached, his head throbbed. Shakily, he touched his head, raising the arm that hurt the less. His hair was wet and sticky. The anger vanished, leaving all his limbs feeling heavier than several tons. His arm dropped beside his head. He slipped into pain-free oblivion.

Chapter two will be up sometime next weekend, hopefully.