What if...

Ron lays an egg

Harry noticed that Ron looked at little happier than usual after his name had been pulled out of the goblet.

This morning, for example, he had entered the Great Hall with a spring in his step, sliding past Parvati Patil and apologising for nearly bumping into her. Ron then sat down, grabbed his fork and dug in neatly, making sure not to get any mess whatsoever on himself or anyone around him.

Then the table was a centaur and Harry's pudding was Voldemort's face and he realised he was dreaming.

A confused Harry Potter stumbled out of bed that morning. He reached to adjust his glasses, only to remember he didn't need them anymore. He was still unsure of how exactly Hermione had cured him, but wasn't about to complain.

He yawned soundlessly, stretching his limbs. He had been awake the whole night going over his Occlumency, improving his defences in case the headmaster got a little too curious.

Professor Flitwick was quite the instructor. While Harry was under no illusion he could beat the diminutive duellist in a fair fight, he had become a master of improvisation, something he had been complimented on. In other words, he was a quick thinker. Harry did wonder if studying occlumency had anything to do with this.

Looking around his assigned dormitory, Harry spotted Dean's drawn curtains. The boy was usually quite reserved and had stopped following Ron and Seamus around everywhere.

Seamus, on the other hand, was obviously in the middle of a very important dream. This time, he could be heard complimenting a girl's fitness and expressing his interest in a physical relationship.

Ron's snoring was fully expected, but Harry felt like a lie in. His first class didn't start until ten, after all, and it was History of Magic, so he wasn't in a hurry to get to class. So he took his wand from his sleeve and cast a strong noise-blocking charm on the boy's curtains so he wouldn't hear the rest of them getting up. He would place a mild repelling charm, but he figured Ron's snores would do that for him.

Finally, he closed his own curtains, placed a silencing charm to protect his own ears, leaned back and relaxed with a smile, knowing that even though he didn't technically have to turn up to any lessons, he would miss breakfast, and that would infuriate the redhead more than anything.

___________________________

The addition of a fourth champion hadn't been well-received by many. In fact, Hermione was certain the only person who supported the idea was the fourth champion himself.

She wasn't particularly bothered, though. It was his problem, therefore he could handle it while she enjoyed a nice, quiet year alone with Harry. Of course, she would interact with her other friends, just a little less.

Still, the first task was within the month, and Ron didn't seem to be preparing at all, though she couldn't have acted surprised at that if her life was on the line. Hermione had a good idea of what the task was going to be, but she had no way to be sure.

When she had asked for Harry's thoughts on the task, he mentioned that he pitied the creature that ended up eating him, as he was sure to cause at least mild indigestion.

On the topic of indigestion, Barty Crouch Junior, under the disguise of 'Mad-eye' Moody, levelled a venomous glare at a heavily eating Ron Weasley, who was completely oblivious, as was the norm whenever there was food in his general vicinity.

He had tried, truly tried, to get Potter's name in the goblet. The boy was constantly alert. He may have been a weak, snivelling fool, but his spacial awareness was unbearably adept, which made it near impossible to obtain his handwriting, especially his written name.