the lucky one

stupid boys

november 24th, 1994

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Miranda wakes up on this November morning filled with dread, but probably not quite as filled with dread as Harry is. Today is the first challenge of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry and Ron had been fighting for weeks, and her and Hermione were sick of it. To top it all off, last night, Harry had returned from a visit with Hagrid white as a sheet. He had only said one word, "Dragons." and then looked as if he might throw up all over the common room.

    Miranda and Hermione walk down to the Quidditch pitch, all bundled up in coats and scarves. The day is cloudy, and the gray sky overhead looks ominous, looming before them.

    "I'm going to see if I can find Harry before it starts," Hermione tells her nervously, scanning the crowds.

    "Alright," Miranda replies, I'll grab us a seat, and maybe I can get Weasley to join us." The girls split up, Miranda heading up to the stands while Hermione goes to the competition tent.

    Miranda finds a small, unoccupied space, and sets down their stuff, rubbing her shoulder from the weight of Hermione's book filled bag. She spots a flash of red hair below.

    "Hey, Ronald, you sitting with us?" Miranda shouts.

    Ron pauses for a second, and then begrudgingly hikes up the stands to where Miranda sits. "Well, fine, but just because he isn't here," he says sullenly, plunking down beside her.

    "The two of you are being so stupid," Miranda rolls her eyes, sighing.

    "Are not," Ron crosses his arms petulantly.

    Breathless, Hermione reappears, back to relay the information she got from Harry, "He's going last, apparently they all drew numbers and dragons from a bag. The challenge is to get the golden egg away from your dragon, and all you get is your wand. Apparently he chose the most vicious dragon, the     Hungarian Horntail and—" At this Ron snorts derisively.

    "Goddamnit, Ron!" Hermione bursts out suddenly, eyes flashing. She stamps her foot, "He's your goddamn best friend! Aren't you the slightest bit worried about him? Or are you that selfish that you can't possibly be concerned with anyone's feelings but your own?"

    Ron ducks his head, cowed, "Well geez, Hermione, of course I care if he bloody dies or not. I'm not a monster."

    "Well then why on earth do you insist on carrying on with your silly spat?" Hermione interrogates, a hard, blazing expression on her features.

    He sulks stubbornly, "Hermione, it's the principle of the thing."

    Hermione throws her hands up in the air, "Impossible, you two are impossible."

    "You guys!" Miranda taps them both, turning their attention away from each other. "It's starting!" Miranda exclaims, as the first competitor walks on the field.

    Each round proceeds, and it feels like the time goes by way too fast. Suddenly, it is Harry's turn and Miranda clenches the cold metal bench tightly when she sees him walk onto the pitch. He looks so small, and that dragon looks so large. She prays he'll be okay, so far each contestant has succeeded in obtaining their egg with minimal injuries.

    Her heart pounds loudly in her throat, and she takes several deep breaths to calm herself. It wasn't like her to be so anxious, especially for someone she'd only known a couple months. And yet— her palms are sweating and her pulse is racing.

    "Oh god," Hermione whispers fearfully as the dragon approaches Harry aggressively.

    "Why isn't he moving?! Why isn't he using his wand?!" Miranda asks frantically. She feels like she's suffocating.