As the students left one by one, Arth took a deep sigh.
That was horrible, it was terrible. He wanted to die.
The way everyone was looking at him made him feel sick and uncomfortable.
He just wanted to hide.
However, before Arth could run off into the crowd, a firm hand grasped his shoulder.
When he turned around, it was Mr. Crouch with a smile on his face.
"Well done, excellent speech."
Arth gave a wry smile in return.
"Thank you, although, I think it would've been better if you went up there Mr. Crouch."
Mr. Crouch shrugged.
"Maybe so, however, it's better for you isn't it? You need to know how to do these things from an early age. It will help you when you grow up."
"You are very wise Mr. Crouch."
Mr. Crouch shook his head.
"I'm not wise, just old. A wise person wouldn't have made the. . . . Mistakes I have made."
Mr. Crouch let out a sigh before taking his hand off of Arth's shoulder.
"You know Arth, I never said this to you before. But I want you to succeed. I want you to become a better person than I was."
Arth nodded his head.
"I know that Mr. Crouch."
"I'm glad you do," said Mr. Crouch with a warm smile.
Arth sighed.
"Why do you even take such good care of me Mr. Crouch? I believe I don't deserve this much favoritism."
Mr. Crouch hesitated.
"I guess. . . . The reason why I care so much for you is because you have talent. I think it's a shame that you don't try to stand out more often. If it's you. . . . You can probably achieve the very thing I could never obtain. . . . . It's almost as though you were the son I never had. The son who could take upon my legacy."
Arth silently stood still staring into Mr. Crouch's face that was filled with complex emotions.
Mr. Crouch sighed.
"Well that's enough about that. You should get a good nights sleep Arthur. You don't want to be tired for tomorrow's feast."
"You right." Said Arth nodding his head.
"On a side note Arthur," said Mr. Crouch with a smile. "If you try to enter the tournament, I won't blame you. In fact, I encourage it. You need to have some ambition."
Arth made a face.
"Nope. I do not want to enter that tournament. Never."
Mr. Crouch shrugged.
"If you do, I'll have to erase your memory. Or else, it won't be fair."
Arth rolled his eyes.
"Sure, even though it will never happen."
"Goodnight Arth."
"Goodnight."
Arth made his way to the Gryffindor Dormitories and went to sleep as soon as he arrived.
The speech took a big toll on his mental introvertness.
As the next day was Saturday, Arth decided it was alright to sleep in late. Plus, he didn't want to encounter Hermione, who had gone down to the entrance hall early with Ron and Harry.
When he woke up and went down into the entrance hall, he saw about forty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. Arth saw that Hermione, Ron, And Harry were among the crowd.
It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.
Someone laughed behind Arthur. Turning, he saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.
"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant voice. "Just taken it."
"What?" said Ron.
"The Aging Potion, dung brain," said Fred.
"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."
"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.
"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Hermione warningly. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."
Arth hated to admit, but he had to agree. Aging potions were not the answer.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Plus, as long as you have the ability to participate, you don't need the aging potion."
George rolled his eyes back.
"Being seventeen is a guarantee, ability is a chance. Better to take a hundred percent over an unknown probability."
"But aging potion won't work."
Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.