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+THE RIDDLE HOUSE 
+
+The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it “the 
+Riddle House,” even though it had been many years 
+since the Riddle family had lived there. It stood on a 
+hill overlooking the village, some of its windows 
+boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading 
+unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, 
+and easily the largest and grandest building for miles 
+around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict, 
+and unoccupied. 
+
+The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house 
+was “creepy.” Half a century ago, something strange 
+and horrible had happened there, something that the 
+older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss 
+when topics for gossip were scarce. The story had 
+been picked over so many times, and had been 
+embroidered in so many places, that nobody was 
+quite sure what the truth was anymore. Every version 
+of the tale, however, started in the same place: Fifty 
+years before, at daybreak on a fine summer’s 
+morning, when the Riddle House had still been well 
+
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+kept and impressive, a maid had entered the drawing 
+room to find all three Riddles dead. 
+
+The maid had run screaming down the hill into the 
+village and roused as many people as she could. 
+
+“Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! 
+Still in their dinner things!” 
+
+The police were summoned, and the whole of Little 
+Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill- 
+disguised excitement. Nobody wasted their breath 
+pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles, for they 
+had been most unpopular. Elderly Mr. and Mrs. 
+Riddle had been rich, snobbish, and rude, and their 
+grown-up son, Tom, had been, if anything, worse. All 
+the villagers cared about was the identity of their 
+murderer — for plainly, three apparently healthy 
+people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the 
+same night. 
+
+The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring trade 
+that night; the whole village seemed to have turned 
+out to discuss the murders. They were rewarded for 
+leaving their firesides when the Riddles’ cook arrived 
+dramatically in their midst and announced to the 
+suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce 
+had just been arrested. 
+
+“Frank!” cried several people. “Never!” 
+
+Frank Bryce was the Riddles’ gardener. He lived alone 
+in a rundown cottage on the grounds of the Riddle 
+House. Frank had come back from the war with a 
+very stiff leg and a great dislike of crowds and loud 
+noises, and had been working for the Riddles ever 
+since. 
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+There was a rush to buy the cook drinks and hear 
+more details. 
+
+
+
+“Always thought he was odd,” she told the eagerly 
+listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. 
+
+“Unfriendly, like. I’m sure if I’ve offered him a cuppa 
+once, I’ve offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to 
+mix, he didn’t.” 
+
+“Ah, now,” said a woman at the bar, “he had a hard 
+war, Frank. He likes the quiet life. That’s no reason to 
+
+
+
+“Who else had a key to the back door, then?” barked 
+the cook. “There’s been a spare key hanging in the 
+gardener’s cottage far back as I can remember! 
+Nobody forced the door last night! No broken 
+windows! All Frank had to do was creep up to the big 
+house while we was all sleeping. ...” 
+
+The villagers exchanged dark looks. 
+
+“I always thought he had a nasty look about him, 
+right enough,” grunted a man at the bar. 
+
+“War turned him funny, if you ask me,” said the 
+landlord. 
+
+“Told you I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of 
+Frank, didn’t I, Dot?” said an excited woman in the 
+corner. 
+
+“Horrible temper,” said Dot, nodding fervently. “I 
+remember, when he was a kid ...” 
+
+By the following morning, hardly anyone in Little 
+Hangleton doubted that Frank Bryce had killed the 
+Riddles. 
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+But over in the neighboring town of Great Hangleton, 
+in the dark and dingy police station, Frank was 
+stubbornly repeating, again and again, that he was 
+innocent, and that the only person he had seen near 
+the house on the day of the Riddles’ deaths had been 
+a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale. 
+Nobody else in the village had seen any such boy, and 
+the police were quite sure that Frank had invented 
+him. 
+
+Then, just when things were looking very serious for 
+Frank, the report on the Riddles’ bodies came back 
+and changed everything. 
+
+The police had never read an odder report. A team of 
+doctors had examined the bodies and had concluded 
+that none of the Riddles had been poisoned, stabbed, 
+shot, strangled, suffocated, or (as far as they could 
+tell) harmed at all. In fact (the report continued, in a 
+tone of unmistakable bewilderment), the Riddles all 
+appeared to be in perfect health — apart from the fact 
+that they were all dead. The doctors did note (as 
+though determined to find something wrong with the 
+bodies) that each of the Riddles had a look of terror 
+upon his or her face — but as the frustrated police 
+said, whoever heard of three people being frightened 
+to death? 
+
+As there was no proof that the Riddles had been 
+murdered at all, the police were forced to let Frank go. 
+The Riddles were buried in the Little Hangleton 
+churchyard, and their graves remained objects of 
+curiosity for a while. To everyone’s surprise, and amid 
+a cloud of suspicion, Frank Bryce returned to his 
+cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. 
+
+“ ’S far as I’m concerned, he killed them, and I don’t 
+care what the police say,” said Dot in the Hanged 
+
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+Man. “And if he had any decency, he’d leave here, 
+knowing as how we knows he did it.” 
+
+But Frank did not leave. He stayed to tend the garden 
+for the next family who lived in the Riddle House, and 
+then the next — for neither family stayed long. 
+
+Perhaps it was partly because of Frank that the new 
+owners said there was a nasty feeling about the place, 
+which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall 
+into disrepair. 
+
+The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these 
+days neither lived there nor put it to any use; they 
+said in the village that he kept it for “tax reasons,” 
+though nobody was very clear what these might be. 
+The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the 
+gardening, however. Frank was nearing his seventy- 
+seventh birthday now, very deaf, his bad leg stiffer 
+than ever, but could be seen pottering around the 
+flower beds in fine weather, even though the weeds 
+were starting to creep up on him, try as he might to 
+suppress them. 
+
+Weeds were not the only things Frank had to contend 
+with either. Boys from the village made a habit of 
+throwing stones through the windows of the Riddle 
+House. They rode their bicycles over the lawns Frank 
+worked so hard to keep smooth. Once or twice, they 
+broke into the old house for a dare. They knew that 
+old Frank’s devotion to the house and grounds 
+amounted almost to an obsession, and it amused 
+them to see him limping across the garden, 
+brandishing his stick and yelling croakily at them. 
+Frank, for his part, believed the boys tormented him 
+because they, like their parents and grandparents, 
+thought him a murderer. So when Frank awoke one 
+night in August and saw something very odd up at 
+the old house, he merely assumed that the boys had 
+gone one step further in their attempts to punish him. 
+Page | 6 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire -J.K. Rowling 
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+It was Frank’s bad leg that woke him; it was paining 
+him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and 
+limped downstairs into the kitchen with the idea of 
+refilling his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in 
+his knee. Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he 
+looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights 
+glimmering in its upper windows. Frank knew at once 
+what was going on. The boys had broken into the 
+house again, and judging by the flickering quality of 
+the light, they had started a fire. 
+
+Frank had no telephone, and in any case, he had 
+deeply mistrusted the police ever since they had 
+taken him in for questioning about the Riddles’ 
+deaths. He put down the kettle at once, hurried back 
+upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was 
+soon back in his kitchen, fully dressed and removing 
+a rusty old key from its hook by the door. He picked 
+up his walking stick, which was propped against the 
+wall, and set off into the night. 
+
+The front door of the Riddle House bore no sign of 
+being forced, nor did any of the windows. Frank 
+limped around to the back of the house until he 
+reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took 
+out the old key, put it into the lock, and opened the 
+door noiselessly. 
+
+He let himself into the cavernous kitchen. Frank had 
+not entered it for many years; nevertheless, although 
+it was very dark, he remembered where the door into 
+the hall was, and he groped his way toward it, his 
+nostrils full of the smell of decay, ears pricked for any 
+sound of footsteps or voices from overhead. He 
+reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to 
+the large mullioned windows on either side of the 
+front door, and started to climb the stairs, blessing 
+the dust that lay thick upon the stone, because it 
+muffled the sound of his feet and stick. 
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+On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once 
+where the intruders were: At the very end of the 
+passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone 
+through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across 
+the black floor. Frank edged closer and closer, 
+grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from 
+the entrance, he was able to see a narrow slice of the 
+room beyond. 
+
+The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate. This 
+surprised him. Then he stopped moving and listened 
+intently, for a man’s voice spoke within the room; it 
+sounded timid and fearful. 
+
+“There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you 
+are still hungry.” 
+
+“Later,” said a second voice. This too belonged to a 
+man — but it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as 
+a sudden blast of icy wind. Something about that 
+voice made the sparse hairs on the back of Frank’s 
+neck stand up. “Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail.” 
+
+Frank turned his right ear toward the door, the better 
+to hear. There came the clink of a bottle being put 
+down upon some hard surface, and then the dull 
+scraping noise of a heavy chair being dragged across 
+the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his 
+back to the door, pushing the chair into place. He was 
+wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bald 
+patch at the back of his head. Then he went out of 
+sight again. 
+
+“Where is Nagini?” said the cold voice. 
+
+“I — I don’t know, My Lord,” said the first voice 
+nervously. “She set out to explore the house, I think. 
+
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+“You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail,” said 
+the second voice. “I will need feeding in the night. The 
+journey has tired me greatly.” 
+
+Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer 
+to the door, listening very hard. There was a pause, 
+and then the man called Wormtail spoke again. 
+
+“My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay 
+here?” 
+
+“A week,” said the cold voice. “Perhaps longer. The 
+place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot 
+proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the 
+Quidditch World Cup is over.” 
+
+Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and 
+rotated it. Owing, no doubt, to a buildup of earwax, 
+he had heard the word “Quidditch,” which was not a 
+word at all. 
+
+“The — the Quidditch World Cup, My Lord?” said 
+Wormtail. (Frank dug his finger still more vigorously 
+into his ear.) “Forgive me, but — I do not understand 
+— why should we wait until the World Cup is over?” 
+
+“Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are 
+pouring into the country from all over the world, and 
+every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on 
+duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, 
+checking and double-checking identities. They will be 
+obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice 
+anything. So we wait.” 
+
+Frank stopped trying to clear out his ear. He had 
+distinctly heard the words “Ministry of Magic,” 
+“wizards,” and “Muggles.” Plainly, each of these 
+expressions meant something secret, and Frank could 
+think of only two sorts of people who would speak in 
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+code: spies and criminals. Frank tightened his hold 
+on his walking stick once more, and listened more 
+closely still. 
+
+“Your Lordship is still determined, then?” Wormtail 
+said quietly. 
+
+“Certainly I am determined, Wormtail.” There was a 
+note of menace in the cold voice now. 
+
+A slight pause followed — and then Wormtail spoke, 
+the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though he 
+was forcing himself to say this before he lost his 
+nerve. 
+
+“It could be done without Harry Potter, My Lord.” 
+
+Another pause, more protracted, and then — 
+
+“Without Harry Potter?” breathed the second voice 
+softly. “I see ...” 
+
+“My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!” 
+said Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. “The boy is 
+nothing to me, nothing at all! It is merely that if we 
+were to use another witch or wizard — any wizard — 
+the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you 
+allowed me to leave you for a short while — you know 
+that I can disguise myself most effectively — I could 
+be back here in as little as two days with a suitable 
+person — ” 
+
+“I could use another wizard,” said the cold voice 
+softly, “that is true. ...” 
+
+“My Lord, it makes sense,” said Wormtail, sounding 
+thoroughly relieved now. “Laying hands on Harry 
+Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected — ” 
+
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+“And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a 
+substitute? I wonder . . . perhaps the task of nursing 
+me has become wearisome for you, “Wormtail? Could 
+this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing 
+more than an attempt to desert me?” 
+
+“My Lord! I — I have no wish to leave you, none at all 
+
+
+
+“Do not lie to me!” hissed the second voice. “I can 
+always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever 
+returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you 
+look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me. ...” 
+
+“No! My devotion to Your Lordship — ” 
+
+“Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You 
+would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. 
+
+How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding 
+every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?” 
+
+“But you seem so much stronger, My Lord — ” 
+
+“Liar,” breathed the second voice. “I am no stronger, 
+and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of 
+the little health I have regained under your clumsy 
+care. Silencel” 
+
+Wormtail, who had been sputtering incoherently, fell 
+silent at once. For a few seconds, Frank could hear 
+nothing but the fire crackling. Then the second man 
+spoke once more, in a whisper that was almost a hiss. 
+
+“I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have 
+already explained to you, and I will use no other. I 
+have waited thirteen years. A few more months will 
+make no difference. As for the protection surrounding 
+the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is 
+needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail — 
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+courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full 
+extent of Lord Voldemort’s wrath — ” 
+
+“My Lord, I must speak!” said Wormtail, panic in his 
+voice now. “All through our journey I have gone over 
+the plan in my head — My Lord, Bertha Jorkins’s 
+disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if 
+we proceed, if I murder — ” 
+
+“IP” whispered the second voice. “If? If you follow the 
+plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that 
+anyone else has died. You will do it quietly and 
+without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but 
+in my present condition ... Come, Wormtail, one more 
+death and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not 
+asking you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful 
+servant will have rejoined us — ” 
+
+“I am a faithful servant,” said Wormtail, the merest 
+trace of sullenness in his voice. 
+
+“Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody 
+whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, 
+unfortunately, fulfill neither requirement.” 
+
+“I found you,” said Wormtail, and there was definitely 
+a sulky edge to his voice now. “I was the one who 
+found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins.” 
+
+“That is true,” said the second man, sounding 
+amused. “A stroke of brilliance I would not have 
+thought possible from you, Wormtail — though, if 
+truth be told, you were not aware how useful she 
+would be when you caught her, were you?” 
+
+“I — I thought she might be useful, My Lord — ” 
+
+“Liar,” said the second voice again, the cruel 
+amusement more pronounced than ever. “However, I 
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+do not deny that her information was invaluable. 
+Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and 
+for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will 
+allow you to perform an essential task for me, one 
+that many of my followers would give their right 
+hands to perform. ...” 
+
+“R-really, My Lord? What — ?” Wormtail sounded 
+terrified again. 
+
+“Ah, Wormtail, you don’t want me to spoil the 
+surprise? Your part will come at the very end ... but I 
+promise you, you will have the honor of being just as 
+useful as Bertha Jorkins.” 
+
+“You ... you ...” Wormtail’s voice suddenly sounded 
+hoarse, as though his mouth had gone very dry. “You 
+. . . are going ... to kill me too?” 
+
+“Wormtail, Wormtail,” said the cold voice silkily, “why 
+would I kill you? I killed Bertha because I had to. She 
+was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite 
+useless. In any case, awkward questions would have 
+been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with 
+the news that she had met you on her holidays. 
+Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well 
+not to run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside 
+inns. ...” 
+
+Wormtail muttered something so quietly that Frank 
+could not hear it, but it made the second man laugh 
+— an entirely mirthless laugh, cold as his speech. 
+
+“We could have modified her memory? But Memory 
+Charms can be broken by a powerful wizard, as I 
+proved when I questioned her. It would be an insult to 
+her memory not to use the information I extracted 
+from her, Wormtail.” 
+
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+Out in the corridor, Frank suddenly became aware 
+that the hand gripping his walking stick was slippery 
+with sweat. The man with the cold voice had killed a 
+woman. He was talking about it without any kind of 
+remorse — with amusement. He was dangerous — a 
+madman. And he was planning more murders — this 
+boy, Harry Potter, whoever he was — was in danger — 
+
+Frank knew what he must do. Now, if ever, was the 
+time to go to the police. He would creep out of the 
+house and head straight for the telephone box in the 
+village . . . but the cold voice was speaking again, and 
+Frank remained where he was, frozen to the spot, 
+listening with all his might. 
+
+“One more murder . . . my faithful servant at Hogwarts 
+... Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is 
+decided. There will be no more argument. But quiet ... 
+I think I hear Nagini. ...” 
+
+And the second man’s voice changed. He started 
+making noises such as Frank had never heard before; 
+he was hissing and spitting without drawing breath. 
+Frank thought he must be having some sort of fit or 
+seizure. 
+
+And then Frank heard movement behind him in the 
+dark passageway. He turned to look, and found 
+himself paralyzed with fright. 
+
+Something was slithering toward him along the dark 
+corridor floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of 
+firelight, he realized with a thrill of terror that it was a 
+gigantic snake, at least twelve feet long. Horrified, 
+transfixed, Frank stared as its undulating body cut a 
+wide, curving track through the thick dust on the 
+floor, coming closer and closer — What was he to do? 
+The only means of escape was into the room where 
+
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+two men sat plotting murder, yet if he stayed where 
+he was the snake would surely kill him — 
+
+But before he had made his decision, the snake was 
+level with him, and then, incredibly, miraculously, it 
+was passing; it was following the spitting, hissing 
+noises made by the cold voice beyond the door, and in 
+seconds, the tip of its diamond-patterned tail had 
+vanished through the gap. 
+
+There was sweat on Frank’s forehead now, and the 
+hand on the walking stick was trembling. Inside the 
+room, the cold voice was continuing to hiss, and 
+Frank was visited by a strange idea, an impossible 
+idea. . . . This man could talk to snakes. 
+
+Frank didn’t understand what was going on. He 
+wanted more than anything to be back in his bed with 
+his hot-water bottle. The problem was that his legs 
+didn’t seem to want to move. As he stood there 
+shaking and trying to master himself, the cold voice 
+switched abruptly to English again. 
+
+“Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail,” it said. 
+
+“In-indeed, My Lord?” said Wormtail. 
+
+“Indeed, yes,” said the voice. “According to Nagini, 
+there is an old Muggle standing right outside this 
+room, listening to every word we say.” 
+
+Frank didn’t have a chance to hide himself. There 
+were footsteps, and then the door of the room was 
+flung wide open. 
+
+A short, balding man with graying hair, a pointed 
+nose, and small, watery eyes stood before Frank, a 
+mixture of fear and alarm in his face. 
+
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+“Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your 
+manners?” 
+
+The cold voice was coming from the ancient armchair 
+before the fire, but Frank couldn’t see the speaker. 
+The snake, on the other hand, was curled up on the 
+rotting hearth rug, like some horrible travesty of a pet 
+dog. 
+
+Wormtail beckoned Frank into the room. Though still 
+deeply shaken, Frank took a firmer grip upon his 
+walking stick and limped over the threshold. 
+
+The fire was the only source of light in the room; it 
+cast long, spidery shadows upon the walls. Frank 
+stared at the back of the armchair; the man inside it 
+seemed to be even smaller than his servant, for Frank 
+couldn’t even see the back of his head. 
+
+“You heard everything, Muggle?” said the cold voice. 
+
+“What’s that you’re calling me?” said Frank defiantly, 
+for now that he was inside the room, now that the 
+time had come for some sort of action, he felt braver; 
+it had always been so in the war. 
+
+“I am calling you a Muggle,” said the voice coolly. “It 
+means that you are not a wizard.” 
+
+“I don’t know what you mean by wizard,” said Frank, 
+his voice growing steadier. “All I know is I’ve heard 
+enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You’ve 
+done murder and you’re planning more! And I’ll tell 
+you this too,” he added, on a sudden inspiration, “my 
+wife knows I’m up here, and if I don’t come back — ” 
+
+“You have no wife,” said the cold voice, very quietly. 
+“Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that 
+
+
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+you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, 
+Muggle, for he knows ... he always knows. ...” 
+
+“Is that right?” said Frank roughly. “Lord, is it? Well, I 
+don’t think much of your manners, My Lord. Turn 
+’round and face me like a man, why don’t you?” 
+
+“But I am not a man, Muggle,” said the cold voice, 
+barely audible now over the crackling of the flames. “I 
+am much, much more than a man. However ... why 
+not? I will face you. ... Wormtail, come turn my chair 
+around.” 
+
+The servant gave a whimper. 
+
+“You heard me, Wormtail.” 
+
+Slowly, with his face screwed up, as though he would 
+rather have done anything than approach his master 
+and the hearth rug where the snake lay, the small 
+man walked forward and began to turn the chair. The 
+snake lifted its ugly triangular head and hissed 
+slightly as the legs of the chair snagged on its rug. 
+
+And then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw 
+what was sitting in it. His walking stick fell to the 
+floor with a clatter. He opened his mouth and let out 
+a scream. He was screaming so loudly that he never 
+heard the words the thing in the chair spoke as it 
+raised a wand. There was a flash of green light, a 
+rushing sound, and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was 
+dead before he hit the floor. 
+
+Two hundred miles away, the boy called Harry Potter 
+woke with a start. 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+THE SCAR 
+
+Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though 
+he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid 
+dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old 
+scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of 
+lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though 
+someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his 
+skin. 
+
+He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other 
+reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which 
+were on the bedside table. He put them on and his 
+bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty 
+orange light that was filtering through the curtains 
+from the street lamp outside the window. 
+
+Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still 
+painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled 
+out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, 
+and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A 
+skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright 
+green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He 
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more 
+closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging. 
+
+Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming 
+about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real. ... 
+There had been two people he knew and one he 
+didn’t. ... He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to 
+remember. ... 
+
+The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. ... 
+There had been a snake on a hearth rug ... a small 
+man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail ... and a cold, 
+high voice ... the voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry felt 
+as though an ice cube had slipped down into his 
+stomach at the very thought. ... 
+
+He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what 
+Voldemort had looked like, but it was impossible. ... 
+All Harry knew was that at the moment when 
+Voldemort’s chair had swung around, and he, Harry, 
+had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt a spasm of 
+horror, which had awoken him ... or had that been 
+the pain in his scar? 
+
+And who had the old man been? For there had 
+definitely been an old man; Harry had watched him 
+fall to the ground. It was all becoming confused. 
+
+Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out his 
+bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly 
+lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in his 
+cupped hands; the details were now trickling away as 
+fast as he tried to hold on to them. ... Voldemort and 
+Wormtail had been talking about someone they had 
+killed, though Harry could not remember the name . . . 
+and they had been plotting to kill someone else . . . 
+him). 
+
+Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes, 
+and stared around his bedroom as though expecting 
+
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+
+
+
+
+to see something unusual there. As it happened, 
+there were an extraordinary number of unusual 
+things in this room. A large wooden trunk stood open 
+at the foot of his bed, revealing a cauldron, 
+broomstick, black robes, and assorted spellbooks. 
+Rolls of parchment littered that part of his desk that 
+was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which 
+his snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched. On the floor 
+beside his bed a book lay open; Harry had been 
+reading it before he fell asleep last night. The pictures 
+in this book were all moving. Men in bright orange 
+robes were zooming in and out of sight on 
+broomsticks, throwing a red ball to one another. 
+
+Harry walked over to the book, picked it up, and 
+watched one of the wizards score a spectacular goal 
+by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. 
+
+Then he snapped the book shut. Even Quidditch — in 
+Harry’s opinion, the best sport in the world — 
+couldn’t distract him at the moment. He placed Flying 
+with the Cannons on his bedside table, crossed to the 
+window, and drew back the curtains to survey the 
+street below. 
+
+Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban 
+street would be expected to look in the early hours of 
+Saturday morning. All the curtains were closed. As far 
+as Harry could see through the darkness, there 
+wasn’t a living creature in sight, not even a cat. 
+
+And yet . . . and yet . . . Harry went restlessly back to 
+the bed and sat down on it, running a finger over his 
+scar again. It wasn’t the pain that bothered him; 
+
+Harry was no stranger to pain and injury. He had lost 
+all the bones from his right arm once and had them 
+painfully regrown in a night. The same arm had been 
+pierced by a venomous foot-long fang not long 
+afterward. Only last year Harry had fallen fifty feet 
+from an airborne broomstick. He was used to bizarre 
+Page | 20 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire -J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you 
+attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 
+and had a knack for attracting a lot of trouble. 
+
+No, the thing that was bothering Harry was that the 
+last time his scar had hurt him, it had been because 
+Voldemort had been close by. ... But Voldemort 
+couldn’t be here, now. ... The idea of Voldemort 
+lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible. ... 
+
+Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was 
+he half-expecting to hear the creak of a stair or the 
+swish of a cloak? And then he jumped slightly as he 
+heard his cousin Dudley give a tremendous grunting 
+snore from the next room. 
+
+Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid. 
+There was no one in the house with him except Uncle 
+Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, and they were 
+plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and 
+painless. 
+
+Asleep was the way Harry liked the Dursleys best; it 
+wasn’t as though they were ever any help to him 
+awake. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley were 
+Harry’s only living relatives. They were Muggles who 
+hated and despised magic in any form, which meant 
+that Harry was about as welcome in their house as 
+dry rot. They had explained away Harry’s long 
+absences at Hogwarts over the last three years by 
+telling everyone that he went to St. Brutus’s Secure 
+Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. They knew 
+perfectly well that, as an underage wizard, Harry 
+wasn’t allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, but 
+they were still apt to blame him for anything that 
+went wrong about the house. Harry had never been 
+able to confide in them or tell them anything about 
+his life in the wizarding world. The very idea of going 
+to them when they awoke, and telling them about his 
+Page | 21 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire -J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+scar hurting him, and about his worries about 
+Voldemort, was laughable. 
+
+And yet it was because of Voldemort that Harry had 
+come to live with the Dursleys in the first place. If it 
+hadn’t been for Voldemort, Harry would not have had 
+the lightning scar on his forehead. If it hadn’t been for 
+Voldemort, Harry would still have had parents. ... 
+
+Harry had been a year old the night that Voldemort — 
+the most powerful Dark wizard for a century, a wizard 
+who had been gaining power steadily for eleven years 
+— arrived at his house and killed his father and 
+mother. Voldemort had then turned his wand on 
+Harry; he had performed the curse that had disposed 
+of many full-grown witches and wizards in his steady 
+rise to power — and, incredibly, it had not worked. 
+Instead of killing the small boy, the curse had 
+rebounded upon Voldemort. Harry had survived with 
+nothing but a lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, 
+and Voldemort had been reduced to something barely 
+alive. His powers gone, his life almost extinguished, 
+Voldemort had fled; the terror in which the secret 
+community of witches and wizards had lived for so 
+long had lifted, Voldemort’s followers had disbanded, 
+and Harry Potter had become famous. 
+
+It had been enough of a shock for Harry to discover, 
+on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wizard; it had 
+been even more disconcerting to find out that 
+everyone in the hidden wizarding world knew his 
+name. Harry had arrived at Hogwarts to find that 
+heads turned and whispers followed him wherever he 
+went. But he was used to it now: At the end of this 
+summer, he would be starting his fourth year at 
+Hogwarts, and Harry was already counting the days 
+until he would be back at the castle again. 
+
+
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+
+But there was still a fortnight to go before he went 
+back to school. He looked hopelessly around his room 
+again, and his eye paused on the birthday cards his 
+two best friends had sent him at the end of July. 
+
+What would they say if Harry wrote to them and told 
+them about his scar hurting? 
+
+At once, Hermione Granger’s voice seemed to fill his 
+head, shrill and panicky. 
+
+“ Your scar hurt? Harry, that’s really serious. . . . Write 
+to Professor Dumbledorel And I’ll go and check 
+Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. ... Maybe 
+there’s something in there about curse scars. ...” 
+
+Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: Go straight to 
+the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, 
+consult a book. Harry stared out of the window at the 
+inky blue-black sky. He doubted very much whether a 
+book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was 
+the only living person to have survived a curse like 
+Voldemort’s; it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he 
+would find his symptoms listed in Common Magical 
+Ailments and Afflictions. As for informing the 
+headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore 
+went during the summer holidays. He amused himself 
+for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long 
+silver beard, full-length wizard’s robes, and pointed 
+hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing 
+suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever 
+Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that 
+Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had 
+never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even 
+without an address. But what would he write? 
+
+Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but 
+my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry 
+Potter. 
+
+
+
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+
+Even inside his head the words sounded stupid. 
+
+And so he tried to imagine his other best friend, Ron 
+Weasley’s, reaction, and in a moment, Ron’s red hair 
+and long-nosed, freckled face seemed to swim before 
+Harry, wearing a bemused expression. 
+
+“ Your scar hurt? But ... but You-Knotu-Who can’t be 
+near you now, can he? I mean ... you’d know, wouldn’t 
+you? He’d be trying to do you in again, wouldn’t he? I 
+dunno, Harry, maybe curse scars always twinge a bit 
+... I’ll ask Dad. ...” 
+
+Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked 
+in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the 
+Ministry of Magic, but he didn’t have any particular 
+expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry 
+knew. In any case, Harry didn’t like the idea of the 
+whole Weasley family knowing that he, Harry, was 
+getting jumpy about a few moments’ pain. Mrs. 
+Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione, and Fred 
+and George, Ron’s sixteen-year-old twin brothers, 
+might think Harry was losing his nerve. The Weasleys 
+were Harry’s favorite family in the world; he was 
+hoping that they might invite him to stay any time 
+now (Ron had mentioned something about the 
+Quidditch World Cup), and he somehow didn’t want 
+his visit punctuated with anxious inquiries about his 
+scar. 
+
+Harry kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. What 
+he really wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit 
+it to himself) was someone like — someone like a 
+parent: an adult wizard whose advice he could ask 
+without feeling stupid, someone who cared about 
+him, who had had experience with Dark Magic. ... 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+And then the solution came to him. It was so simple, 
+and so obvious, that he couldn’t believe it had taken 
+so long — Sirius. 
+
+Harry leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room, 
+and sat down at his desk; he pulled a piece of 
+parchment toward him, loaded his eagle-feather quill 
+with ink, wrote Dear Sirius, then paused, wondering 
+how best to phrase his problem, still marveling at the 
+fact that he hadn’t thought of Sirius straight away. 
+
+But then, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising — after all, 
+he had only found out that Sirius was his godfather 
+two months ago. 
+
+There was a simple reason for Sirius’s complete 
+absence from Harry’s life until then — Sirius had 
+been in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard jail guarded by 
+creatures called dementors, sightless, soul-sucking 
+fiends who had come to search for Sirius at Hogwarts 
+when he had escaped. Yet Sirius had been innocent 
+— the murders for which he had been convicted had 
+been committed by Wormtail, Voldemort’s supporter, 
+whom nearly everybody now believed dead. Harry, 
+
+Ron, and Hermione knew otherwise, however; they 
+had come face-to-face with Wormtail only the 
+previous year, though only Professor Dumbledore had 
+believed their story. 
+
+For one glorious hour, Harry had believed that he was 
+leaving the Dursleys at last, because Sirius had 
+offered him a home once his name had been cleared. 
+But the chance had been snatched away from him — 
+Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to 
+the Ministry of Magic, and Sirius had had to flee for 
+his life. Harry had helped him escape on the back of a 
+hippogriff called Buckbeak, and since then, Sirius 
+had been on the run. The home Harry might have had 
+if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him 
+all summer. It had been doubly hard to return to the 
+Page | 25 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Dursleys knowing that he had so nearly escaped them 
+forever. 
+
+Nevertheless, Sirius had been of some help to Harry, 
+even if he couldn’t be with him. It was due to Sirius 
+that Harry now had all his school things in his 
+bedroom with him. The Dursleys had never allowed 
+this before; their general wish of keeping Harry as 
+miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of his 
+powers, had led them to lock his school trunk in the 
+cupboard under the stairs every summer prior to this. 
+But their attitude had changed since they had found 
+out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a 
+godfather — for Harry had conveniently forgotten to 
+tell them that Sirius was innocent. 
+
+Harry had received two letters from Sirius since he 
+had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been 
+delivered, not by owls (as was usual with wizards), 
+but by large, brightly colored tropical birds. Hedwig 
+had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had 
+been most reluctant to allow them to drink from her 
+water tray before flying off again. Harry, on the other 
+hand, had liked them; they put him in mind of palm 
+trees and white sand, and he hoped that, wherever 
+Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were 
+intercepted), he was enjoying himself. Somehow, 
+
+Harry found it hard to imagine dementors surviving 
+for long in bright sunlight; perhaps that was why 
+Sirius had gone south. Sirius’s letters, which were 
+now hidden beneath the highly useful loose 
+floorboard under Harry’s bed, sounded cheerful, and 
+in both of them he had reminded Harry to call on him 
+if ever Harry needed to. Well, he needed to now, all 
+right. ... 
+
+Harry’s lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold gray 
+light that precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room. 
+Finally, when the sun had risen, when his bedroom 
+
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+
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+
+walls had turned gold, and when sounds of movement 
+could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s 
+room, Harry cleared his desk of crumpled pieces of 
+parchment and reread his finished letter. 
+
+Dear Sirius, 
+
+Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it 
+could hardly get through my window. 
+
+Things are the same as usual here. Dudley’s diet isn’t 
+going too well. My aunt found him smuggling 
+doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him 
+they ’d have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing 
+it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation 
+out of the window. That’s a sort of computer thing you 
+can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn’t 
+even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind 
+off things. 
+
+I’m okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified 
+you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask 
+you to. 
+
+A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar 
+hurt again. Last time that happened it was because 
+Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don’t reckon he can 
+be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if 
+curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward? 
+
+I’ll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she’s 
+offhunt-\ing at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for 
+me. 
+
+Harry 
+
+Yes, thought Harry, that looked all right. There was 
+no point putting in the dream; he didn’t want it to 
+look as though he was too worried. He folded up the 
+
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+
+
+
+
+parchment and laid it aside on his desk, ready for 
+when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, 
+stretched, and opened his wardrobe once more. 
+Without glancing at his reflection, he started to get 
+dressed before going down to breakfast. 
+
+
+
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+3 
+
+
+
+
+THE INVITATION 
+
+By the time Harry arrived in the kitchen, the three 
+Dursleys were already seated around the table. None 
+of them looked up as he entered or sat down. Uncle 
+Vernon’s large red face was hidden behind the 
+morning’s Daily Mail, and Aunt Petunia was cutting a 
+grapefruit into quarters, her lips pursed over her 
+horselike teeth. 
+
+Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow 
+seemed to be taking up even more space than usual. 
+This was saying something, as he always took up an 
+entire side of the square table by himself. When Aunt 
+Petunia put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit onto 
+Dudley’s plate with a tremulous “There you are, Diddy 
+darling,” Dudley glowered at her. His life had taken a 
+most unpleasant turn since he had come home for 
+the summer with his end-of-year report. 
+
+Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had managed to find 
+excuses for his bad marks as usual: Aunt Petunia 
+always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy 
+whose teachers didn’t understand him, while Uncle 
+
+Page | 29 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+Vernon maintained that “he didn’t want some swotty 
+little nancy boy for a son anyway.” They also skated 
+over the accusations of bullying in the report — “He’s 
+a boisterous little boy, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly!” 
+Aunt Petunia had said tearfully. 
+
+However, at the bottom of the report there were a few 
+well-chosen comments from the school nurse that not 
+even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could explain 
+away. No matter how much Aunt Petunia wailed that 
+Dudley was big-boned, and that his poundage was 
+really puppy fat, and that he was a growing boy who 
+needed plenty of food, the fact remained that the 
+school outfitters didn’t stock knickerbockers big 
+enough for him anymore. The school nurse had seen 
+what Aunt Petunia’s eyes — so sharp when it came to 
+spotting fingerprints on her gleaming walls, and in 
+observing the comings and goings of the neighbors — 
+simply refused to see: that far from needing extra 
+nourishment, Dudley had reached roughly the size 
+and weight of a young killer whale. 
+
+So — after many tantrums, after arguments that 
+shook Harry’s bedroom floor, and many tears from 
+Aunt Petunia — the new regime had begun. The diet 
+sheet that had been sent by the Smeltings school 
+nurse had been taped to the fridge, which had been 
+emptied of all Dudley’s favorite things — fizzy drinks 
+and cakes, chocolate bars and burgers — and filled 
+instead with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of 
+things that Uncle Vernon called “rabbit food.” To 
+make Dudley feel better about it all, Aunt Petunia had 
+insisted that the whole family follow the diet too. She 
+now passed a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He noticed 
+that it was a lot smaller than Dudley’s. Aunt Petunia 
+seemed to feel that the best way to keep up Dudley’s 
+morale was to make sure that he did, at least, get 
+more to eat than Harry. 
+
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+But Aunt Petunia didn’t know what was hidden under 
+the loose floorboard upstairs. She had no idea that 
+Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment 
+he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to 
+survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent 
+Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help, and they 
+had risen to the occasion magnificently. Hedwig had 
+returned from Hermione’s house with a large box 
+stuffed full of sugar-free snacks. (Hermione’s parents 
+were dentists.) Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had 
+obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock 
+cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too 
+much experience of Hagrid ’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, 
+however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an 
+enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies. Poor 
+Errol, who was elderly and feeble, had needed a full 
+five days to recover from the journey. And then on 
+Harry’s birthday (which the Dursleys had completely 
+ignored) he had received four superb birthday cakes, 
+one each from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius. 
+Harry still had two of them left, and so, looking 
+forward to a real breakfast when he got back upstairs, 
+he ate his grapefruit without complaint. 
+
+Uncle Vernon laid aside his paper with a deep sniff of 
+disapproval and looked down at his own grapefruit 
+quarter. 
+
+“Is this it?” he said grumpily to Aunt Petunia. 
+
+Aunt Petunia gave him a severe look, and then 
+nodded pointedly at Dudley, who had already finished 
+his own grapefruit quarter and was eyeing Harry’s 
+with a very sour look in his piggy little eyes. 
+
+Uncle Vernon gave a great sigh, which ruffled his 
+large, bushy mustache, and picked up his spoon. 
+
+
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+The doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon heaved himself out 
+of his chair and set off down the hall. Quick as a 
+flash, while his mother was occupied with the kettle, 
+Dudley stole the rest of Uncle Vernon’s grapefruit. 
+
+Harry heard talking at the door, and someone 
+laughing, and Uncle Vernon answering curtly. Then 
+the front door closed, and the sound of ripping paper 
+came from the hall. 
+
+Aunt Petunia set the teapot down on the table and 
+looked curiously around to see where Uncle Vernon 
+had got to. She didn’t have to wait long to find out; 
+after about a minute, he was back. He looked livid. 
+
+“You,” he barked at Harry. “In the living room. Now.” 
+
+Bewildered, wondering what on earth he was 
+supposed to have done this time, Harry got up and 
+followed Uncle Vernon out of the kitchen and into the 
+next room. Uncle Vernon closed the door sharply 
+behind both of them. 
+
+“So,” he said, marching over to the fireplace and 
+turning to face Harry as though he were about to 
+pronounce him under arrest. “So.” 
+
+Harry would have dearly loved to have said, “So 
+what?” but he didn’t feel that Uncle Vernon’s temper 
+should be tested this early in the morning, especially 
+when it was already under severe strain from lack of 
+food. He therefore settled for looking politely puzzled. 
+
+“This just arrived,” said Uncle Vernon. He brandished 
+a piece of purple writing paper at Harry. “A letter. 
+About you.” 
+
+
+
+Page | 32 
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+
+Harry’s confusion increased. Who would be writing to 
+Uncle Vernon about him? Who did he know who sent 
+letters by the postman? 
+
+Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, then looked down at 
+the letter and began to read aloud: 
+
+Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, 
+
+We have never been introduced, but I am sure you 
+have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron. 
+
+As Harry might have told you, the final of the 
+Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday night, 
+and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get 
+prime tickets through his connections at the 
+Department of Magical Games and Sports. 
+
+I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, 
+as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain 
+hasn’t hosted the cup for thirty years, and tickets are 
+extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad 
+to have Harry stay for the remainder of the summer 
+holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to 
+school. 
+
+It would be best for Harry to send us your answer as 
+quickly as possible in the normal way, because the 
+Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and 
+I am not sure he even knows where it is. 
+
+Hoping to see Harry soon, 
+
+Yours sincerely, 
+
+Molly Weasley 
+
+P.S. I do hope we’ve put enough stamps on. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back 
+into his breast pocket, and drew out something else. 
+
+“Look at this,” he growled. 
+
+He held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasley’s 
+letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. 
+Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a 
+square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley 
+had squeezed the Dursleys’ address in minute 
+writing. 
+
+“She did put enough stamps on, then,” said Harry, 
+trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasley’s was a 
+mistake anyone could make. His uncle’s eyes flashed. 
+
+“The postman noticed,” he said through gritted teeth. 
+“Very interested to know where this letter came from, 
+he was. That’s why he rang the doorbell. Seemed to 
+think it was funny.” 
+
+Harry didn’t say anything. Other people might not 
+understand why Uncle Vernon was making a fuss 
+about too many stamps, but Harry had lived with the 
+Dursleys too long not to know how touchy they were 
+about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their 
+worst fear was that someone would find out that they 
+were connected (however distantly) with people like 
+Mrs. Weasley. 
+
+Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who tried to 
+keep his expression neutral. If he didn’t do or say 
+anything stupid, he might just be in for the treat of a 
+lifetime. He waited for Uncle Vernon to say 
+something, but he merely continued to glare. Harry 
+decided to break the silence. 
+
+“So — can I go then?” he asked. 
+
+
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+A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon’s large purple 
+face. The mustache bristled. Harry thought he knew 
+what was going on behind the mustache: a furious 
+battle as two of Uncle Vernon’s most fundamental 
+instincts came into conflict. Allowing Harry to go 
+would make Harry happy, something Uncle Vernon 
+had struggled against for thirteen years. On the other 
+hand, allowing Harry to disappear to the Weasleys’ for 
+the rest of the summer would get rid of him two 
+weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped, and 
+Uncle Vernon hated having Harry in the house. To 
+give himself thinking time, it seemed, he looked down 
+at Mrs. Weasley’s letter again. 
+
+“Who is this woman?” he said, staring at the 
+signature with distaste. 
+
+“You’ve seen her,” said Harry. “She’s my friend Ron’s 
+mother, she was meeting him off the Hog — off the 
+school train at the end of last term.” 
+
+He had almost said “Hogwarts Express,” and that was 
+a sure way to get his uncle’s temper up. Nobody ever 
+mentioned the name of Harry’s school aloud in the 
+Dursley household. 
+
+Uncle Vernon screwed up his enormous face as 
+though trying to remember something very 
+unpleasant. 
+
+“Dumpy sort of woman?” he growled finally. “Load of 
+children with red hair?” 
+
+Harry frowned. He thought it was a bit rich of Uncle 
+Vernon to call anyone “dumpy,” when his own son, 
+Dudley, had finally achieved what he’d been 
+threatening to do since the age of three, and become 
+wider than he was tall. 
+
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+Uncle Vernon was perusing the letter again. 
+
+“Quidditch,” he muttered under his breath. 
+
+“Quidditch — what is this rubbish?” 
+
+Harry felt a second stab of annoyance. 
+
+“It’s a sport,” he said shortly. “Played on broom — ” 
+
+“All right, all right!” said Uncle Vernon loudly. Harry 
+saw, with some satisfaction, that his uncle looked 
+vaguely panicky. Apparently his nerves couldn’t stand 
+the sound of the word “broomsticks” in his living 
+room. He took refuge in perusing the letter again. 
+Harry saw his lips form the words “send us your 
+answer ... in the normal way.” He scowled. 
+
+“What does she mean, ‘the normal way’?” he spat. 
+
+“Normal for us,” said Harry, and before his uncle 
+could stop him, he added, “you know, owl post. That’s 
+what’s normal for wizards.” 
+
+Uncle Vernon looked as outraged as if Harry had just 
+uttered a disgusting swear word. Shaking with anger, 
+he shot a nervous look through the window, as 
+though expecting to see some of the neighbors with 
+their ears pressed against the glass. 
+
+“How many times do I have to tell you not to mention 
+that unnaturalness under my roof?” he hissed, his 
+face now a rich plum color. “You stand there, in the 
+clothes Petunia and I have put on your ungrateful 
+back — ” 
+
+“Only after Dudley finished with them,” said Harry 
+coldly, and indeed, he was dressed in a sweatshirt so 
+large for him that he had had to roll back the sleeves 
+
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+five times so as to be able to use his hands, and 
+which fell past the knees of his extremely baggy jeans. 
+
+
+
+“I will not be spoken to like that!” said Uncle Vernon, 
+trembling with rage. 
+
+But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were 
+the days when he had been forced to take every single 
+one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules. He wasn’t following 
+Dudley’s diet, and he wasn’t going to let Uncle Vernon 
+stop him from going to the Quidditch World Cup, not 
+if he could help it. Harry took a deep, steadying 
+breath and then said, “Okay, I can’t see the World 
+Cup. Can I go now, then? Only I’ve got a letter to 
+Sirius I want to finish. You know — my godfather.” 
+
+He had done it. He had said the magic words. Now he 
+watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle 
+Vernon’s face, making it look like badly mixed black 
+currant ice cream. 
+
+“You’re — you’re writing to him, are you?” said Uncle 
+Vernon, in a would-be calm voice — but Harry had 
+seen the pupils of his tiny eyes contract with sudden 
+fear. 
+
+“Well — yeah,” said Harry, casually. “It’s been a while 
+since he heard from me, and, you know, if he doesn’t, 
+he might start thinking something’s wrong.” 
+
+He stopped there to enjoy the effect of these words. 
+
+He could almost see the cogs working under Uncle 
+Vernon’s thick, dark, neatly parted hair. If he tried to 
+stop Harry writing to Sirius, Sirius would think Harry 
+was being mistreated. If he told Harry he couldn’t go 
+to the Quidditch World Cup, Harry would write and 
+tell Sirius, who would know Harry was being 
+mistreated. There was only one thing for Uncle 
+Vernon to do. Harry could see the conclusion forming 
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+in his uncle’s mind as though the great mustached 
+face were transparent. Harry tried not to smile, to 
+keep his own face as blank as possible. And then — 
+
+“Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy ... this 
+stupid ... this World Cup thing. You write and tell 
+these — these Weasleys they’re to pick you up, mind. 
+I haven’t got time to go dropping you off all over the 
+country. And you can spend the rest of the summer 
+there. And you can tell your — your godfather ... tell 
+him ... tell him you’re going.” 
+
+“Okay then,” said Harry brightly. 
+
+He turned and walked toward the living room door, 
+fighting the urge to jump into the air and whoop. He 
+was going ... he was going to the Weasleys’, he was 
+going to watch the Quidditch World Cup! 
+
+Outside in the hall he nearly ran into Dudley, who 
+had been lurking behind the door, clearly hoping to 
+overhear Harry being told off. He looked shocked to 
+see the broad grin on Harry’s face. 
+
+“That was an excellent breakfast, wasn’t it?” said 
+Harry. “I feel really full, don’t you?” 
+
+Laughing at the astonished look on Dudley’s face, 
+Harry took the stairs three at a time, and hurled 
+himself back into his bedroom. 
+
+The first thing he saw was that Hedwig was back. She 
+was sitting in her cage, staring at Harry with her 
+enormous amber eyes, and clicking her beak in the 
+way that meant she was annoyed about something. 
+Exactly what was annoying her became apparent 
+almost at once. 
+
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+“OUCH!” said Harry as what appeared to be a small, 
+gray, feathery tennis ball collided with the side of his 
+head. Harry massaged the spot furiously, looking up 
+to see what had hit him, and saw a minute owl, small 
+enough to fit into the palm of his hand, whizzing 
+excitedly around the room like a loose firework. Harry 
+then realized that the owl had dropped a letter at his 
+feet. Harry bent down, recognized Ron’s handwriting, 
+then tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily 
+scribbled note. 
+
+Harry — DAD GOT THE TICKETS — Ireland versus 
+Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum’s writing to the Muggles 
+to ask you to stay. They might already have the letter, 
+
+I don’t know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I’d send 
+this with Pig anyway. 
+
+Harry stared at the word “Pig,” then looked up at the 
+tiny owl now zooming around the light fixture on the 
+ceiling. He had never seen anything that looked less 
+like a pig. Maybe he couldn’t read Ron’s writing. He 
+went back to the letter: 
+
+We’re coming for you whether the Muggles like it or 
+not, you can’t miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad 
+reckon it’s better if we pretend to ask their permission 
+first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer 
+pronto, and we’ll come and get you at five o’clock on 
+Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we’ll 
+come and get you at five o’clock on Sunday anyway. 
+
+Hermione’s arriving this afternoon. Percy’s started 
+work — the Department of International Magical 
+Cooperation. Don’t mention anything about Abroad 
+while you’re here unless you want the pants bored off 
+you. 
+
+See you soon — 
+
+
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+Ron 
+
+
+
+“Calm down!” Harry said as the small owl flew low 
+over his head, twittering madly with what Harry could 
+only assume was pride at having delivered the letter 
+to the right person. “Come here, I need you to take my 
+answer back!” 
+
+The owl fluttered down on top of Hedwig’s cage. 
+Hedwig looked coldly up at it, as though daring it to 
+try and come any closer. 
+
+Harry seized his eagle-feather quill once more, 
+grabbed a fresh piece of parchment, and wrote: 
+
+Ron, it’s all okay, the Muggles say I can come. See you 
+five o’clock tomorrow. Can’t wait. 
+
+Harry 
+
+He folded this note up very small, and with immense 
+difficulty, tied it to the tiny owl’s leg as it hopped on 
+the spot with excitement. The moment the note was 
+secure, the owl was off again; it zoomed out of the 
+window and out of sight. 
+
+Harry turned to Hedwig. 
+
+“Feeling up to a long journey?” he asked her. 
+
+Hedwig hooted in a dignified sort of a way. 
+
+“Can you take this to Sirius for me?” he said, picking 
+up his letter. “Hang on ... I just want to finish it.” 
+
+He unfolded the parchment and hastily added a 
+postscript. 
+
+
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+If you want to contact me, I’ll be at my friend Ron 
+Weasley’s for the rest of the summer. His dad’s got us 
+tickets for the Quidditch World Cup\ 
+
+The letter finished, he tied it to Hedwig’s leg; she kept 
+unusually still, as though determined to show him 
+how a real post owl should behave. 
+
+“I’ll be at Ron’s when you get back, all right?” Harry 
+told her. 
+
+She nipped his finger affectionately, then, with a soft 
+swooshing noise, spread her enormous wings and 
+soared out of the open window. 
+
+Harry watched her out of sight, then crawled under 
+his bed, wrenched up the loose floorboard, and pulled 
+out a large chunk of birthday cake. He sat there on 
+the floor eating it, savoring the happiness that was 
+flooding through him. He had cake, and Dudley had 
+nothing but grapefruit; it was a bright summer’s day, 
+he would be leaving Privet Drive tomorrow, his scar 
+felt perfectly normal again, and he was going to watch 
+the Quidditch World Cup. It was hard, just now, to 
+feel worried about anything — even Lord Voldemort. 
+
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+BACK TO THE BURROW 
+
+By twelve o’clock the next day, Harry’s school trunk 
+was packed with his school things and all his most 
+prized possessions — the Invisibility Cloak he had 
+inherited from his father, the broomstick he had 
+gotten from Sirius, the enchanted map of Hogwarts he 
+had been given by Fred and George Weasley last year. 
+He had emptied his hiding place under the loose 
+floorboard of all food, double-checked every nook and 
+cranny of his bedroom for forgotten spellbooks or 
+quills, and taken down the chart on the wall counting 
+down the days to September the first, on which he 
+liked to cross off the days remaining until his return 
+to Hogwarts. 
+
+The atmosphere inside number four, Privet Drive was 
+extremely tense. The imminent arrival at their house 
+of an assortment of wizards was making the Dursleys 
+uptight and irritable. Uncle Vernon had looked 
+downright alarmed when Harry informed him that the 
+Weasley s would be arriving at five o’clock the very 
+next day. 
+
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+“I hope you told them to dress properly, these people,” 
+he snarled at once. “I’ve seen the sort of stuff your lot 
+wear. They’d better have the decency to put on 
+normal clothes, that’s all.” 
+
+Harry felt a slight sense of foreboding. He had rarely 
+seen Mr. or Mrs. Weasley wearing anything that the 
+Dursleys would call “normal.” Their children might 
+don Muggle clothing during the holidays, but Mr. and 
+Mrs. Weasley usually wore long robes in varying 
+states of shabbiness. Harry wasn’t bothered about 
+what the neighbors would think, but he was anxious 
+about how rude the Dursleys might be to the 
+Weasleys if they turned up looking like their worst 
+idea of wizards. 
+
+Uncle Vernon had put on his best suit. To some 
+people, this might have looked like a gesture of 
+welcome, but Harry knew it was because Uncle 
+Vernon wanted to look impressive and intimidating. 
+Dudley, on the other hand, looked somehow 
+diminished. This was not because the diet was at last 
+taking effect, but due to fright. Dudley had emerged 
+from his last encounter with a fully-grown wizard with 
+a curly pig’s tail poking out of the seat of his trousers, 
+and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had had to pay 
+for its removal at a private hospital in London. It 
+wasn’t altogether surprising, therefore, that Dudley 
+kept running his hand nervously over his backside, 
+and walking sideways from room to room, so as not to 
+present the same target to the enemy. 
+
+Lunch was an almost silent meal. Dudley didn’t even 
+protest at the food (cottage cheese and grated celery). 
+Aunt Petunia wasn’t eating anything at all. Her arms 
+were folded, her lips were pursed, and she seemed to 
+be chewing her tongue, as though biting back the 
+furious diatribe she longed to throw at Harry. 
+
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+“They’ll be driving, of course?” Uncle Vernon barked 
+across the table. 
+
+“Er,” said Harry. 
+
+He hadn’t thought of that. How were the Weasleys 
+going to pick him up? They didn’t have a car 
+anymore; the old Ford Anglia they had once owned 
+was currently running wild in the Forbidden Forest at 
+Hogwarts. But Mr. Weasley had borrowed a Ministry 
+of Magic car last year; possibly he would do the same 
+today? 
+
+“I think so,” said Harry. 
+
+Uncle Vernon snorted into his mustache. Normally, 
+Uncle Vernon would have asked what car Mr. Weasley 
+drove; he tended to judge other men by how big and 
+expensive their cars were. But Harry doubted whether 
+Uncle Vernon would have taken to Mr. Weasley even 
+if he drove a Ferrari. 
+
+Harry spent most of the afternoon in his bedroom; he 
+couldn’t stand watching Aunt Petunia peer out 
+through the net curtains every few seconds, as 
+though there had been a warning about an escaped 
+rhinoceros. Finally, at a quarter to five, Harry went 
+back downstairs and into the living room. 
+
+Aunt Petunia was compulsively straightening 
+cushions. Uncle Vernon was pretending to read the 
+paper, but his tiny eyes were not moving, and Harry 
+was sure he was really listening with all his might for 
+the sound of an approaching car. Dudley was 
+crammed into an armchair, his porky hands beneath 
+him, clamped firmly around his bottom. Harry 
+couldn’t take the tension; he left the room and went 
+and sat on the stairs in the hall, his eyes on his 
+
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+watch and his heart pumping fast from excitement 
+and nerves. 
+
+But five o’clock came and then went. Uncle Vernon, 
+perspiring slightly in his suit, opened the front door, 
+peered up and down the street, then withdrew his 
+head quickly. 
+
+“They’re late!” he snarled at Harry. 
+
+“I know,” said Harry. “Maybe — er — the traffic’s bad, 
+or something.” 
+
+Ten past five ... then a quarter past five ... Harry was 
+starting to feel anxious himself now. At half past, he 
+heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia conversing in 
+terse mutters in the living room. 
+
+“No consideration at all.” 
+
+“We might’ve had an engagement.” 
+
+“Maybe they think theyll get invited to dinner if 
+they’re late.” 
+
+“Well, they most certainly won’t be,” said Uncle 
+Vernon, and Harry heard him stand up and start 
+pacing the living room. “They’ll take the boy and go, 
+there 11 be no hanging around. That’s if they’re coming 
+at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay their kind 
+don’t set much store by punctuality. Either that or 
+they drive some tin-pot car that’s broken d — 
+AAAAAAAARRRRRGH ! ” 
+
+Harry jumped up. From the other side of the living 
+room door came the sounds of the three Dursleys 
+scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room. Next 
+moment Dudley came flying into the hall, looking 
+terrified. 
+
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+“What happened?” said Harry. “What’s the matter?” 
+
+But Dudley didn’t seem able to speak. Hands still 
+clamped over his buttocks, he waddled as fast as he 
+could into the kitchen. Harry hurried into the living 
+room. 
+
+Loud hangings and scrapings were coming from 
+behind the Dursleys’ boarded-up fireplace, which had 
+a fake coal fire plugged in front of it. 
+
+“What is it?” gasped Aunt Petunia, who had backed 
+into the wall and was staring, terrified, toward the 
+fire. “What is it, Vernon?” 
+
+But they were left in doubt barely a second longer. 
+Voices could be heard from inside the blocked 
+fireplace. 
+
+“Ouch! Fred, no — go back, go back, there’s been 
+some kind of mistake — tell George not to — OUCH! 
+George, no, there’s no room, go back quickly and tell 
+Ron — ” 
+
+“Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad — maybe he’ll be able 
+to let us out — ” 
+
+There was a loud hammering of fists on the boards 
+behind the electric fire. 
+
+“Harry? Harry, can you hear us?” 
+
+The Dursleys rounded on Harry like a pair of angry 
+wolverines. 
+
+“What is this?” growled Uncle Vernon. “What’s going 
+on?” 
+
+
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+“They — they’ve tried to get here by Floo powder,” 
+said Harry, fighting a mad desire to laugh. “They can 
+travel by fire — only you’ve blocked the fireplace — 
+hang on — ” 
+
+He approached the fireplace and called through the 
+boards. 
+
+“Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?” 
+
+The hammering stopped. Somebody inside the 
+chimney piece said, “Shh!” 
+
+“Mr. Weasley, it’s Harry ... the fireplace has been 
+blocked up. You won’t be able to get through there.” 
+
+“Damn!” said Mr. Weasley’s voice. “What on earth did 
+they want to block up the fireplace for?” 
+
+“They’ve got an electric fire,” Harry explained. 
+
+“Really?” said Mr. Weasley’s voice excitedly. “Eclectic, 
+you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that. ... 
+Let’s think ... ouch, Ron!” 
+
+Ron’s voice now joined the others’. 
+
+“What are we doing here? Has something gone 
+wrong?” 
+
+“Oh no, Ron,” came Fred’s voice, very sarcastically. 
+“No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up.” 
+
+“Yeah, we’re having the time of our lives here,” said 
+George, whose voice sounded muffled, as though he 
+was squashed against the wall. 
+
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+“Boys, boys ...” said Mr. Weasley vaguely. “I’m trying 
+to think what to do. ... Yes ... only way ... Stand back, 
+Harry.” 
+
+Harry retreated to the sofa. Uncle Vernon, however, 
+moved forward. 
+
+“Wait a moment!” he bellowed at the fire. “What 
+exactly are you going to — ” 
+
+BANG. 
+
+The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded- 
+up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr. Weasley, 
+Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and loose 
+chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backward 
+over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before 
+she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the 
+Weasleys, all of whom had bright red hair, including 
+Fred and George, who were identical to the last 
+freckle. 
+
+“That’s better,” panted Mr. Weasley, brushing dust 
+from his long green robes and straightening his 
+glasses. “Ah — you must be Harry’s aunt and uncle!” 
+
+Tall, thin, and balding, he moved toward Uncle 
+Vernon, his hand outstretched, but Uncle Vernon 
+backed away several paces, dragging Aunt Petunia. 
+Words utterly failed Uncle Vernon. His best suit was 
+covered in white dust, which had settled in his hair 
+and mustache and made him look as though he had 
+just aged thirty years. 
+
+“Er — yes — sorry about that,” said Mr. Weasley, 
+lowering his hand and looking over his shoulder at 
+the blasted fireplace. “It’s all my fault. It just didn’t 
+occur to me that we wouldn’t be able to get out at the 
+other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo 
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+Network, you see — just for an afternoon, you know, 
+so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren’t 
+supposed to be connected, strictly speaking — but 
+I’ve got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel 
+and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, 
+though, don’t worry. I’ll light a fire to send the boys 
+back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I 
+Disapparate.” 
+
+Harry was ready to bet that the Dursleys hadn’t 
+understood a single word of this. They were still 
+gaping at Mr. Weasley, thunderstruck. Aunt Petunia 
+staggered upright again and hid behind Uncle 
+Vernon. 
+
+“Hello, Harry!” said Mr. Weasley brightly. “Got your 
+trunk ready?” 
+
+“It’s upstairs,” said Harry, grinning back. 
+
+“Well get it,” said Fred at once. Winking at Harry, he 
+and George left the room. They knew where Harry’s 
+bedroom was, having once rescued him from it in the 
+dead of night. Harry suspected that Fred and George 
+were hoping for a glimpse of Dudley; they had heard a 
+lot about him from Harry. 
+
+“Well,” said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, 
+while he tried to find words to break the very nasty 
+silence. “Very — erm — very nice place you’ve got 
+here.” 
+
+As the usually spotless living room was now covered 
+in dust and bits of brick, this remark didn’t go down 
+too well with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon’s face 
+purpled once more, and Aunt Petunia started chewing 
+her tongue again. However, they seemed too scared to 
+actually say anything. 
+
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+Mr. Weasley was looking around. He loved everything 
+to do with Muggles. Harry could see him itching to go 
+and examine the television and the video recorder. 
+
+“They run off eckeltricity, do they?” he said 
+knowledgeably. “Ah yes, I can see the plugs. I collect 
+plugs,” he added to Uncle Vernon. “And batteries. Got 
+a very large collection of batteries. My wife thinks I’m 
+mad, but there you are.” 
+
+Uncle Vernon clearly thought Mr. Weasley was mad 
+too. He moved ever so slightly to the right, screening 
+Aunt Petunia from view, as though he thought Mr. 
+Weasley might suddenly run at them and attack. 
+
+Dudley suddenly reappeared in the room. Harry could 
+hear the clunk of his trunk on the stairs, and knew 
+that the sounds had scared Dudley out of the kitchen. 
+Dudley edged along the wall, gazing at Mr. Weasley 
+with terrified eyes, and attempted to conceal himself 
+behind his mother and father. Unfortunately, Uncle 
+Vernon’s bulk, while sufficient to hide bony Aunt 
+Petunia, was nowhere near enough to conceal Dudley. 
+
+“Ah, this is your cousin, is it, Harry?” said Mr. 
+Weasley, taking another brave stab at making 
+conversation. 
+
+“Yep,” said Harry, “that’s Dudley.” 
+
+He and Ron exchanged glances and then quickly 
+looked away from each other; the temptation to burst 
+out laughing was almost overwhelming. Dudley was 
+still clutching his bottom as though afraid it might 
+fall off. Mr. Weasley, however, seemed genuinely 
+concerned at Dudley’s peculiar behavior. Indeed, from 
+the tone of his voice when he next spoke, Harry was 
+quite sure that Mr. Weasley thought Dudley was quite 
+
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+as mad as the Dursleys thought he was, except that 
+Mr. Weasley felt sympathy rather than fear. 
+
+“Having a good holiday, Dudley?” he said kindly. 
+
+Dudley whimpered. Harry saw his hands tighten still 
+harder over his massive backside. 
+
+Fred and George came back into the room carrying 
+Harry’s school trunk. They glanced around as they 
+entered and spotted Dudley. Their faces cracked into 
+identical evil grins. 
+
+“Ah, right,” said Mr. Weasley. “Better get cracking 
+then.” 
+
+He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and took out 
+his wand. Harry saw the Dursleys draw back against 
+the wall as one. 
+
+“Incendio\” said Mr. Weasley, pointing his wand at the 
+hole in the wall behind him. 
+
+Flames rose at once in the fireplace, crackling merrily 
+as though they had been burning for hours. Mr. 
+Weasley took a small drawstring bag from his pocket, 
+untied it, took a pinch of the powder inside, and 
+threw it onto the flames, which turned emerald green 
+and roared higher than ever. 
+
+“Off you go then, Fred,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“Coming,” said Fred. “Oh no — hang on — ” 
+
+A bag of sweets had spilled out of Fred’s pocket and 
+the contents were now rolling in every direction — 
+big, fat toffees in brightly colored wrappers. 
+
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+Fred scrambled around, cramming them back into his 
+pocket, then gave the Dursleys a cheery wave, 
+stepped forward, and walked right into the fire, saying 
+“the Burrow!” Aunt Petunia gave a little shuddering 
+gasp. There was a whooshing sound, and Fred 
+vanished. 
+
+“Right then, George,” said Mr. Weasley, “you and the 
+trunk.” 
+
+Harry helped George carry the trunk forward into the 
+flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold 
+it better. Then, with a second whoosh, George had 
+cried “the Burrow!” and vanished too. 
+
+“Ron, you next,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“See you,” said Ron brightly to the Dursleys. He 
+grinned broadly at Harry, then stepped into the fire, 
+shouted “the Burrow!” and disappeared. 
+
+Now Harry and Mr. Weasley alone remained. 
+
+“Well ... T>ye then,” Harry said to the Dursleys. 
+
+They didn’t say anything at all. Harry moved toward 
+the fire, but just as he reached the edge of the hearth, 
+Mr. Weasley put out a hand and held him back. He 
+was looking at the Dursleys in amazement. 
+
+“Harry said good-bye to you,” he said. “Didn’t you 
+hear him?” 
+
+“It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. 
+“Honestly, I don’t care.” 
+
+Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry’s 
+shoulder. 
+
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+“You aren’t going to see your nephew till next 
+summer,” he said to Uncle Vernon in mild 
+indignation. “Surely you’re going to say good-bye?” 
+
+Uncle Vernon’s face worked furiously. The idea of 
+being taught consideration by a man who had just 
+blasted away half his living room wall seemed to be 
+causing him intense suffering. But Mr. Weasley’s 
+wand was still in his hand, and Uncle Vernon’s tiny 
+eyes darted to it once, before he said, very resentfully, 
+“Good-bye, then.” 
+
+“See you,” said Harry, putting one foot forward into 
+the green flames, which felt pleasantly like warm 
+breath. At that moment, however, a horrible gagging 
+sound erupted behind him, and Aunt Petunia started 
+to scream. 
+
+Harry wheeled around. Dudley was no longer 
+standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside 
+the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering 
+on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was 
+protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second 
+later, Harry realized that the foot-long thing was 
+Dudley’s tongue — and that a brightly colored toffee 
+wrapper lay on the floor before him. 
+
+Aunt Petunia hurled herself onto the ground beside 
+Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and 
+attempted to wrench it out of his mouth; 
+unsurprisingly, Dudley yelled and sputtered worse 
+than ever, trying to fight her off. Uncle Vernon was 
+bellowing and waving his arms around, and Mr. 
+Weasley had to shout to make himself heard. 
+
+“Not to worry, I can sort him out!” he yelled, 
+advancing on Dudley with his wand outstretched, but 
+Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever and threw 
+
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+herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. 
+Weasley. 
+
+
+
+“No, really!” said Mr. Weasley desperately. “It’s a 
+simple process — it was the toffee — my son Fred — 
+real practical joker — but it’s only an Engorgement 
+Charm — at least, I think it is — please, I can correct 
+
+
+
+it — ” 
+
+
+
+But far from being reassured, the Dursleys became 
+more panic-stricken; Aunt Petunia was sobbing 
+hysterically, tugging Dudley’s tongue as though 
+determined to rip it out; Dudley appeared to be 
+suffocating under the combined pressure of his 
+mother and his tongue; and Uncle Vernon, who had 
+lost control completely, seized a china figure from on 
+top of the sideboard and threw it very hard at Mr. 
+Weasley, who ducked, causing the ornament to 
+shatter in the blasted fireplace. 
+
+“Now really!” said Mr. Weasley angrily, brandishing 
+his wand. “I’m trying to help\” 
+
+Bellowing like a wounded hippo, Uncle Vernon 
+snatched up another ornament. 
+
+“Harry, go! Just go!” Mr. Weasley shouted, his wand 
+on Uncle Vernon. “I’ll sort this out!” 
+
+Harry didn’t want to miss the fun, but Uncle Vernon’s 
+second ornament narrowly missed his left ear, and on 
+balance he thought it best to leave the situation to 
+Mr. Weasley. He stepped into the fire, looking over his 
+shoulder as he said “the Burrow!” His last fleeting 
+glimpse of the living room was of Mr. Weasley blasting 
+a third ornament out of Uncle Vernon’s hand with his 
+wand, Aunt Petunia screaming and lying on top of 
+Dudley, and Dudley’s tongue lolling around like a 
+great slimy python. But next moment Harry had 
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+begun to spin very fast, and the Dursleys’ living room 
+was whipped out of sight in a rush of emerald-green 
+flames. 
+
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+WEASLEYS’ WIZARD WHEEZES 
+
+Harry spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to 
+his sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past him, until 
+he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, 
+when at last he felt himself slowing down, he threw 
+out his hands and came to a halt in time to prevent 
+himself from falling face forward out of the Weasleys’ 
+kitchen fire. 
+
+“Did he eat it?” said Fred excitedly, holding out a 
+hand to pull Harry to his feet. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, straightening up. “What was it?” 
+
+“Ton-Tongue Toffee,” said Fred brightly. “George and I 
+invented them, and we’ve been looking for someone to 
+test them on all summer. ...” 
+
+The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked 
+around and saw that Ron and George were sitting at 
+the scrubbed wooden table with two red-haired people 
+Harry had never seen before, though he knew 
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+immediately who they must be: Bill and Charlie, the 
+two eldest Weasley brothers. 
+
+
+
+“How’re you doing, Harry?” said the nearer of the two, 
+grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which 
+Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his 
+fingers. This had to be Charlie, who worked with 
+dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins, 
+shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were 
+both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured 
+face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he 
+looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and 
+one of them had a large, shiny burn on it. 
+
+Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry’s 
+hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry 
+knew that he worked for the wizarding bank, 
+Gringotts, and that Bill had been Head Boy at 
+Hogwarts; Harry had always imagined Bill to be an 
+older version of Percy: fussy about rule-breaking and 
+fond of bossing everyone around. However, Bill was — 
+there was no other word for it — cool. He was tall, 
+with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He 
+was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang 
+dangling from it. Bill’s clothes would not have looked 
+out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry 
+recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of 
+dragon hide. 
+
+Before any of them could say anything else, there was 
+a faint popping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out 
+of thin air at George’s shoulder. He was looking 
+angrier than Harry had ever seen him. 
+
+“That wasn’t funny, Fred!” he shouted. “What on 
+earth did you give that Muggle boy?” 
+
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+“I didn’t give him anything,” said Fred, with another 
+evil grin. “I just dropped it. ... It was his fault he went 
+and ate it, I never told him to.” 
+
+“You dropped it on purpose!” roared Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“You knew he’d eat it, you knew he was on a diet — ” 
+
+“How big did his tongue get?” George asked eagerly. 
+
+“It was four feet long before his parents would let me 
+shrink it!” 
+
+Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again. 
+
+“It isn’t funny\” Mr. Weasley shouted. “That sort of 
+behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle 
+relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the 
+mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons — ” 
+
+“We didn’t give it to him because he’s a Muggle!” said 
+Fred indignantly. 
+
+“No, we gave it to him because he’s a great bullying 
+git,” said George. “Isn’t he, Harry?” 
+
+“Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry earnestly. 
+
+“That’s not the point!” raged Mr. Weasley. “You wait 
+until I tell your mother — ” 
+
+“Tell me what?” said a voice behind them. 
+
+Mrs. Weasley had just entered the kitchen. She was a 
+short, plump woman with a very kind face, though 
+her eyes were presently narrowed with suspicion. 
+
+“Oh hello, Harry, dear,” she said, spotting him and 
+smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. 
+“Tell me what , Arthur?” 
+
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+Mr. Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell that, however 
+angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn’t really 
+intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what had happened. 
+There was a silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife 
+nervously. Then two girls appeared in the kitchen 
+doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. One, with very bushy 
+brown hair and rather large front teeth, was Harry’s 
+and Ron’s friend, Hermione Granger. The other, who 
+was small and red-haired, was Ron’s younger sister, 
+Ginny. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned 
+back, which made Ginny go scarlet — she had been 
+very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the 
+Burrow. 
+
+“Tell me what, Arthur?” Mrs. Weasley repeated, in a 
+dangerous sort of voice. 
+
+“It’s nothing, Molly,” mumbled Mr. Weasley, “Fred and 
+George just — but I’ve had words with them — ” 
+
+“What have they done this time?” said Mrs. Weasley. 
+“If it’s got anything to do with Weasleys’ Wizard 
+Wheezes — ” 
+
+“Why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping, 
+
+Ron?” said Hermione from the doorway. 
+
+“He knows where he’s sleeping,” said Ron, “in my 
+room, he slept there last — ” 
+
+“We can all go,” said Hermione pointedly. 
+
+“Oh,” said Ron, cottoning on. “Right.” 
+
+“Yeah, we’ll come too,” said George. 
+
+“You stay where you are!” snarled Mrs. Weasley. 
+
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+Harry and Ron edged out of the kitchen, and they, 
+Hermione, and Ginny set off along the narrow hallway 
+and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through 
+the house to the upper stories. 
+
+“What are Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?” Harry asked 
+as they climbed. 
+
+Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione 
+didn’t. 
+
+“Mum found this stack of order forms when she was 
+cleaning Fred and George’s room,” said Ron quietly. 
+“Great long price lists for stuff they’ve invented. Joke 
+stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads 
+of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they’d been 
+inventing all that ...” 
+
+“We’ve been hearing explosions out of their room for 
+ages, but we never thought they were actually making 
+things,” said Ginny. “We thought they just liked the 
+noise.” 
+
+“Only, most of the stuff — well, all of it, really — was 
+a bit dangerous,” said Ron, “and, you know, they were 
+planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, 
+and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren’t 
+allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the 
+order forms. ... She’s furious at them anyway. They 
+didn’t get as many O.W.L.s as she expected.” 
+
+O.W.L.s were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the 
+examinations Hogwarts students took at the age of 
+fifteen. 
+
+“And then there was this big row,” Ginny said, 
+“because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of 
+Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do 
+is open a joke shop.” 
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+Just then a door on the second landing opened, and a 
+face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a 
+very annoyed expression. 
+
+“Hi, Percy,” said Harry. 
+
+“Oh hello, Harry,” said Percy. “I was wondering who 
+was making all the noise. I’m trying to work in here, 
+you know — I’ve got a report to finish for the office — 
+and it’s rather difficult to concentrate when people 
+keep thundering up and down the stairs.” 
+
+“We’re not thundering,” said Ron irritably. “We’re 
+walking. Sorry if we’ve disturbed the top-secret 
+workings of the Ministry of Magic.” 
+
+“What are you working on?” said Harry. 
+
+“A report for the Department of International Magical 
+Cooperation,” said Percy smugly. “We’re trying to 
+standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign 
+imports are just a shade too thin — leakages have 
+been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a 
+year — ” 
+
+“That’ll change the world, that report will,” said Ron. 
+“Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron 
+leaks.” 
+
+Percy went slightly pink. 
+
+“You might sneer, Ron,” he said heatedly, “but unless 
+some sort of international law is imposed we might 
+well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow- 
+bottomed products that seriously endanger — ” 
+
+“Yeah, yeah, all right,” said Ron, and he started off 
+upstairs again. Percy slammed his bedroom door 
+shut. As Harry, Hermione, and Ginny followed Ron up 
+
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+three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen 
+below echoed up to them. It sounded as though Mr. 
+Weasley had told Mrs. Weasley about the toffees. 
+
+The room at the top of the house where Ron slept 
+looked much as it had the last time that Harry had 
+come to stay: the same posters of Ron’s favorite 
+Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling 
+and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the 
+fish tank on the windowsill, which had previously 
+held frog spawn, now contained one extremely large 
+frog. Ron’s old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, but 
+instead there was the tiny gray owl that had delivered 
+Ron’s letter to Harry in Privet Drive. It was hopping 
+up and down in a small cage and twittering madly. 
+
+“Shut up, Pig,” said Ron, edging his way between two 
+of the four beds that had been squeezed into the 
+room. “Fred and George are in here with us, because 
+Bill and Charlie are in their room,” he told Harry. 
+“Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because 
+he’s got to work.” 
+
+“Er — why are you calling that owl Pig?” Harry asked 
+Ron. 
+
+“Because he’s being stupid,” said Ginny. “Its proper 
+name is Pigwidgeon.” 
+
+“Yeah, and that’s not a stupid name at all,” said Ron 
+sarcastically. “Ginny named him,” he explained to 
+Harry. “She reckons it’s sweet. And I tried to change 
+it, but it was too late, he won’t answer to anything 
+else. So now he’s Pig. I’ve got to keep him up here 
+because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me 
+too, come to that.” 
+
+Pigwidgeon zoomed happily around his cage, hooting 
+shrilly. Harry knew Ron too well to take him 
+
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+seriously. He had moaned continually about his old 
+rat, Scabbers, but had been most upset when 
+Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, appeared to have eaten 
+him. 
+
+“Where’s Crookshanks?” Harry asked Hermione now. 
+
+“Out in the garden, I expect,” she said. “He likes 
+chasing gnomes. He’s never seen any before.” 
+
+“Percy’s enjoying work, then?” said Harry, sitting 
+down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley 
+Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the 
+ceiling. 
+
+“Enjoying it?” said Ron darkly. “I don’t reckon he’d 
+come home if Dad didn’t make him. He’s obsessed. 
+Just don’t get him onto the subject of his boss. 
+According to Mr. Crouch ... as I was saying to Mr. 
+Crouch . . . Mr. Crouch is of the opinion . . . Mr. Crouch 
+was telling me ... They 11 be announcing their 
+engagement any day now.” 
+
+“Have you had a good summer, Harry?” said 
+Hermione. “Did you get our food parcels and 
+everything?” 
+
+“Yeah, thanks a lot,” said Harry. “They saved my life, 
+those cakes.” 
+
+“And have you heard from — ?” Ron began, but at a 
+look from Hermione he fell silent. Harry knew Ron 
+had been about to ask about Sirius. Ron and 
+Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping 
+Sirius escape from the Ministry of Magic that they 
+were almost as concerned about Harry’s godfather as 
+he was. However, discussing him in front of Ginny 
+was a bad idea. Nobody but themselves and Professor 
+
+
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+Dumbledore knew about how Sirius had escaped, or 
+believed in his innocence. 
+
+“I think they’ve stopped arguing,” said Hermione, to 
+cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was 
+looking curiously from Ron to Harry. “Shall we go 
+down and help your mum with dinner?” 
+
+“Yeah, all right,” said Ron. The four of them left Ron’s 
+room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley 
+alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered. 
+
+“We’re eating out in the garden,” she said when they 
+came in. “There’s just not room for eleven people in 
+here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill 
+and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and 
+forks, please, you two,” she said to Ron and Harry, 
+pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she 
+had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which 
+shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off 
+the walls and ceiling. 
+
+“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she snapped, now directing 
+her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the 
+sideboard and started skating across the floor, 
+scooping up the potatoes. “Those two!” she burst out 
+savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a 
+cupboard, and Harry knew she meant Fred and 
+George. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to them, 
+I really don’t. No ambition, unless you count making 
+as much trouble as they possibly can. ...” 
+
+Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down 
+on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand 
+around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the 
+wand tip as she stirred. 
+
+“It’s not as though they haven’t got brains,” she 
+continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the 
+
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+stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, 
+“but they’re wasting them, and unless they pull 
+themselves together soon, they’ll be in real trouble. 
+I’ve had more owls from Hogwarts about them than 
+the rest put together. If they carry on the way they’re 
+going, they’ll end up in front of the Improper Use of 
+Magic Office.” 
+
+Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, 
+which shot open. Harry and Ron both jumped out of 
+the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across 
+the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which 
+had just been tipped back into the sink by the 
+dustpan. 
+
+“I don’t know where we went wrong with them,” said 
+Mrs. Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to 
+pull out still more saucepans. “It’s been the same for 
+years, one thing after another, and they won’t listen 
+to — OH NOT AGAIN.” 
+
+She had picked up her wand from the table, and it 
+had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant 
+rubber mouse. 
+
+“One of their fake wands again!” she shouted. “How 
+many times have I told them not to leave them lying 
+around?” 
+
+She grabbed her real wand and turned around to find 
+that the sauce on the stove was smoking. 
+
+“C’mon,” Ron said hurriedly to Harry, seizing a 
+handful of cutlery from the open drawer, “let’s go and 
+help Bill and Charlie.” 
+
+They left Mrs. Weasley and headed out the back door 
+into the yard. 
+
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+They had only gone a few paces when Hermione’s 
+bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, came pelting 
+out of the garden, bottle-brush tail held high in the 
+air, chasing what looked like a muddy potato on legs. 
+Harry recognized it instantly as a gnome. Barely ten 
+inches high, its horny little feet pattered very fast as it 
+sprinted across the yard and dived headlong into one 
+of the Wellington boots that lay scattered around the 
+door. Harry could hear the gnome giggling madly as 
+Crookshanks inserted a paw into the boot, trying to 
+reach it. Meanwhile, a very loud crashing noise was 
+coming from the other side of the house. The source 
+of the commotion was revealed as they entered the 
+garden, and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their 
+wands out, and were making two battered old tables 
+fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, 
+each attempting to knock the other’s out of the air. 
+Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, 
+and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, 
+apparently torn between amusement and anxiety. 
+
+Bill’s table caught Charlie’s with a huge bang and 
+knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from 
+overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy’s head 
+poking out of a window on the second floor. 
+
+“Will you keep it down?!” he bellowed. 
+
+“Sorry, Perce,” said Bill, grinning. “How’re the 
+cauldron bottoms coming on?” 
+
+“Very badly,” said Percy peevishly, and he slammed 
+the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed 
+the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, 
+with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg 
+and conjured tablecloths from nowhere. 
+
+By seven o’clock, the two tables were groaning under 
+dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley’s excellent cooking, 
+
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+and the nine Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were 
+settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep- 
+blue sky. To somebody who had been living on meals 
+of increasingly stale cake all summer, this was 
+paradise, and at first, Harry listened rather than 
+talked as he helped himself to chicken and ham pie, 
+boiled potatoes, and salad. 
+
+At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father 
+all about his report on cauldron bottoms. 
+
+“I’ve told Mr. Crouch that I’ll have it ready by 
+Tuesday,” Percy was saying pompously. “That’s a bit 
+sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of 
+things. I think he’ll be grateful I’ve done it in good 
+time, I mean, it’s extremely busy in our department 
+just now, what with all the arrangements for the 
+World Cup. We’re just not getting the support we 
+need from the Department of Magical Games and 
+Sports. Ludo Bagman — ” 
+
+“I like Ludo,” said Mr. Weasley mildly. “He was the 
+one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did 
+him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot 
+of trouble — a lawnmower with unnatural powers — I 
+smoothed the whole thing over.” 
+
+“Oh Bagman’s likable enough, of course,” said Percy 
+dismissively, “but how he ever got to be Head of 
+Department ... when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I 
+can’t see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our 
+department and not trying to find out what’s 
+happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has 
+been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday 
+to Albania and never came back?” 
+
+“Yes, I was asking Ludo about that,” said Mr. 
+
+Weasley, frowning. “He says Bertha’s gotten lost 
+
+
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+plenty of times before now — though I must say, if it 
+was someone in my department, I’d be worried. ...” 
+
+“Oh Bertha’s hopeless, all right,” said Percy. “I hear 
+she’s been shunted from department to department 
+for years, much more trouble than she’s worth ... but 
+all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. 
+Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she 
+worked in our department at one time, you know, and 
+I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her — but 
+Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably 
+misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of 
+Albania. However” — Percy heaved an impressive sigh 
+and took a deep swig of elderflower wine — “we’ve got 
+quite enough on our plates at the Department of 
+International Magical Cooperation without trying to 
+find members of other departments too. As you know, 
+we’ve got another big event to organize right after the 
+World Cup.” 
+
+Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down 
+toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione were sitting. “ You know the one I’m talking 
+about, Father.” He raised his voice slightly. “The top- 
+secret one.” 
+
+Ron rolled his eyes and muttered to Harry and 
+Hermione, “He’s been trying to get us to ask what that 
+event is ever since he started work. Probably an 
+exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons.” 
+
+In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing 
+with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a 
+recent acquisition. 
+
+“... with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what 
+do they say at the bank?” 
+
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+“Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress 
+as long as I bring home plenty of treasure,” said Bill 
+patiently. 
+
+“And your hair’s getting silly, dear,” said Mrs. 
+
+Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly. “I wish you’d let 
+me give it a trim. ...” 
+
+“I like it,” said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. 
+“You’re so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it’s nowhere 
+near as long as Professor Dumbledore’s. ...” 
+
+Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were 
+all talking spiritedly about the World Cup. 
+
+“It’s got to be Ireland,” said Charlie thickly, through a 
+mouthful of potato. “They flattened Peru in the 
+semifinals.” 
+
+“Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though,” said Fred. 
+
+“Krum’s one decent player, Ireland has got seven,” 
+said Charlie shortly. “I wish England had got through. 
+That was embarrassing, that was.” 
+
+“What happened?” said Harry eagerly, regretting more 
+than ever his isolation from the wizarding world when 
+he was stuck on Privet Drive. 
+
+“Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and 
+ninety to ten,” said Charlie gloomily. “Shocking 
+performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland 
+was slaughtered by Luxembourg.” 
+
+Harry had been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch 
+team ever since his first year at Hogwarts and owned 
+one of the best racing brooms in the world, a Firebolt. 
+Flying came more naturally to Harry than anything 
+
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+else in the magical world, and he played in the 
+position of Seeker on the Gryffindor House team. 
+
+Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the 
+darkening garden before they had their homemade 
+strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had 
+finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and 
+the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass 
+and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed 
+and at peace with the world as he watched several 
+gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes, laughing 
+madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks. 
+
+Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the 
+rest of the family were all busy talking, then he said 
+very quietly to Harry, “So — have you heard from 
+Sirius lately?” 
+
+Hermione looked around, listening closely. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry softly, “twice. He sounds okay. I 
+wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I’m 
+here.” 
+
+He suddenly remembered the reason he had written 
+to Sirius, and for a moment was on the verge of telling 
+Ron and Hermione about his scar hurting again, and 
+about the dream that had awoken him . . . but he 
+really didn’t want to worry them just now, not when 
+he himself was feeling so happy and peaceful. 
+
+“Look at the time,” Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, 
+checking her wristwatch. “You really should be in 
+bed, the whole lot of you — you’ll be up at the crack 
+of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your 
+school list out, I’ll get your things for you tomorrow in 
+Diagon Alley. I’m getting everyone else’s. There might 
+not be time after the World Cup, the match went on 
+for five days last time.” 
+
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+
+“Wow — hope it does this time!” said Harry 
+enthusiastically. 
+
+“Well, I certainly don’t,” said Percy sanctimoniously. “I 
+shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would 
+be if I was away from work for five days.” 
+
+“Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, 
+eh, Perce?” said Fred. 
+
+“That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!” said 
+Percy, going very red in the face. “It was nothing 
+personall” 
+
+“It was,” Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from 
+the table. “We sent it.” 
+
+
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+THE PORTKEY 
+
+Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to sleep 
+in Ron’s room when he was being shaken awake by 
+Mrs. Weasley. 
+
+“Time to go, Harry, dear,” she whispered, moving 
+away to wake Ron. 
+
+Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and 
+sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered 
+indistinctly as his mother roused him. At the foot of 
+Harry’s mattress he saw two large, disheveled shapes 
+emerging from tangles of blankets. 
+
+“ ’S’ time already?” said Fred groggily. 
+
+They dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, 
+yawning and stretching, the four of them headed 
+downstairs into the kitchen. 
+
+Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot 
+on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the 
+table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He 
+
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+looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so 
+that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was 
+wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a 
+very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held 
+up with a thick leather belt. 
+
+“What d’you think?” he asked anxiously. “We’re 
+supposed to go incognito — do I look like a Muggle, 
+Harry?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling, “very good.” 
+
+“Where ’re Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?” said 
+George, failing to stifle a huge yawn. 
+
+“Well, they’re Apparating, aren’t they?” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and 
+starting to ladle porridge into bowls. “So they can 
+have a bit of a lie-in.” 
+
+Harry knew that Apparating meant disappearing from 
+one place and reappearing almost instantly in 
+another, but had never known any Hogwarts student 
+to do it, and understood that it was very difficult. 
+
+“So they’re still in bed?” said Fred grumpily, pulling 
+his bowl of porridge toward him. “Why can’t we 
+Apparate too?” 
+
+“Because you’re not of age and you haven’t passed 
+your test,” snapped Mrs. Weasley. “And where have 
+those girls got to?” 
+
+She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her 
+climbing the stairs. 
+
+“You have to pass a test to Apparate?” Harry asked. 
+
+
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+“Oh yes,” said Mr. Weasley, tucking the tickets safely 
+into the back pocket of his jeans. “The Department of 
+Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people 
+the other day for Apparating without a license. It’s not 
+easy, Apparition, and when it’s not done properly it 
+can lead to nasty complications. This pair I’m talking 
+about went and splinched themselves.” 
+
+Everyone around the table except Harry winced. 
+
+“Er — splinched?” said Harry. 
+
+“They left half of themselves behind,” said Mr. 
+
+Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto 
+his porridge. “So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn’t 
+move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic 
+Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit 
+of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles 
+who spotted the body parts they’d left behind. ...” 
+
+Harry had a sudden vision of a pair of legs and an 
+eyeball lying abandoned on the pavement of Privet 
+Drive. 
+
+“Were they okay?” he asked, startled. 
+
+“Oh yes,” said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. “But they 
+got a heavy fine, and I don’t think they’ll be trying it 
+again in a hurry. You don’t mess around with 
+Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who 
+don’t bother with it. Prefer brooms — slower, but 
+safer.” 
+
+“But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?” 
+
+“Charlie had to take the test twice,” said Fred, 
+grinning. “He failed the first time, Apparated five 
+miles south of where he meant to, right on top of 
+some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?” 
+
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+“Yes, well, he passed the second time,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty 
+sniggers. 
+
+“Percy only passed two weeks ago,” said George. “He’s 
+been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just 
+to prove he can.” 
+
+There were footsteps down the passageway and 
+Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both 
+looking pale and drowsy. 
+
+“Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny said, 
+rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table. 
+
+“We’ve got a bit of a walk,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“Walk?” said Harry. “What, are we walking to the 
+World Cup?” 
+
+“No, no, that’s miles away,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling. 
+“We only need to walk a short way. It’s just that it’s 
+very difficult for a large number of wizards to 
+congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We 
+have to be very careful about how we travel at the 
+best of times, and on a huge occasion like the 
+Quidditch World Cup — ” 
+
+“George!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all 
+jumped. 
+
+“What?” said George, in an innocent tone that 
+deceived nobody. 
+
+“What is that in your pocket?” 
+
+“Nothing!” 
+
+“Don’t you lie to me!” 
+
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+Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George’s pocket 
+and said, “Acciol” 
+
+Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of 
+George’s pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, 
+and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley ’s outstretched 
+hand. 
+
+“We told you to destroy them!” said Mrs. Weasley 
+furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more 
+Ton-Tongue Toffees. “We told you to get rid of the lot! 
+Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!” 
+
+It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently 
+been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the 
+house as possible, and it was only by using her 
+Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to 
+find them all. 
+
+“Acciol Acciol Acciol” she shouted, and toffees zoomed 
+from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining 
+of George’s jacket and the turn-ups of Fred’s jeans. 
+
+“We spent six months developing those!” Fred 
+shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away. 
+
+“Oh a fine way to spend six months!” she shrieked. 
+
+“No wonder you didn’t get more O.W.L.s!” 
+
+All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as 
+they took their departure. Mrs. Weasley was still 
+glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, 
+though not nearly as much as the twins, who had 
+each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and 
+walked out without a word to her. 
+
+“Well, have a lovely time,” said Mrs. Weasley, “and 
+behave yourselves,” she called after the twins’ 
+retreating backs, but they did not look back or 
+
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+answer. “I’ll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along 
+around midday,” Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as 
+he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across 
+the dark yard after Fred and George. 
+
+It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, 
+greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed 
+that daybreak was drawing closer. Harry, having been 
+thinking about thousands of wizards speeding toward 
+the Quidditch World Cup, sped up to walk with Mr. 
+Weasley. 
+
+“So how does everyone get there without all the 
+Muggles noticing?” he asked. 
+
+“It’s been a massive organizational problem,” sighed 
+Mr. Weasley. “The trouble is, about a hundred 
+thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of 
+course, we just haven’t got a magical site big enough 
+to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles 
+can’t penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred 
+thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine 
+and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted 
+moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as 
+possible. The whole Ministry’s been working on it for 
+months. First, of course, we have to stagger the 
+arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive 
+two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle 
+transport, but we can’t have too many clogging up 
+their buses and trains — remember, wizards are 
+coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of 
+course, but we have to set up safe points for them to 
+appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there’s a 
+handy wood they’re using as the Apparition point. For 
+those who don’t want to Apparate, or can’t, we use 
+Portkeys. They’re objects that are used to transport 
+wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged 
+time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. 
+There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at 
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+strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one 
+to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that’s 
+where we’re headed.” 
+
+Mr. Weasley pointed ahead of them, where a large 
+black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. 
+Catchpole. 
+
+“What sort of objects are Portkeys?” said Harry 
+curiously. 
+
+“Well, they can be anything,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+“Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don’t go 
+picking them up and playing with them . . . stuff they’ll 
+just think is litter. ...” 
+
+They trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the 
+village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The 
+sky lightened very slowly as they made their way 
+through the village, its inky blackness diluting to 
+deepest blue. Harry’s hands and feet were freezing. 
+
+Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch. 
+
+They didn’t have breath to spare for talking as they 
+began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling 
+occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick 
+black tuffets of grass. Each breath Harry took was 
+sharp in his chest and his legs were starting to seize 
+up when, at last, his feet found level ground. 
+
+“Whew,” panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses 
+and wiping them on his sweater. “Well, we’ve made 
+good time — we’ve got ten minutes. ...” 
+
+Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, 
+clutching a stitch in her side. 
+
+
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+“Now we just need the Portkey,” said Mr. Weasley, 
+replacing his glasses and squinting around at the 
+ground. “It won’t be big. ... Come on ...” 
+
+They spread out, searching. They had only been at it 
+for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent 
+the still air. 
+
+“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!” 
+
+Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry 
+sky on the other side of the hilltop. 
+
+“Amos!” said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to 
+the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed. 
+
+Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced 
+wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding 
+a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand. 
+
+“This is Amos Diggory, everyone,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+“He works for the Department for the Regulation and 
+Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know 
+his son, Cedric?” 
+
+Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of 
+around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the 
+Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts. 
+
+“Hi,” said Cedric, looking around at them all. 
+
+Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who 
+merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric 
+for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first 
+Quidditch match of the previous year. 
+
+“Long walk, Arthur?” Cedric’s father asked. 
+
+
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+“Not too bad,” said Mr. Weasley. “We live just on the 
+other side of the village there. You?” 
+
+“Had to get up at two, didn’t we, Ced? I tell you, I’ll be 
+glad when he’s got his Apparition test. Still ... not 
+complaining ... Quidditch World Cup, wouldn’t miss it 
+for a sackful of Galleons — and the tickets cost about 
+that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy. ...” Amos 
+Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three 
+Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. “All these 
+yours, Arthur?” 
+
+“Oh no, only the redheads,” said Mr. Weasley, 
+pointing out his children. “This is Hermione, friend of 
+Ron’s — and Harry, another friend — ” 
+
+“Merlin’s beard,” said Amos Diggory, his eyes 
+widening. “Harry? Harry Potter?” 
+
+“Er — yeah,” said Harry. 
+
+Harry was used to people looking curiously at him 
+when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved 
+at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it 
+always made him feel uncomfortable. 
+
+“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” said Amos 
+Diggory. “Told us all about playing against you last 
+year. ... I said to him, I said — Ced, that’ll be 
+something to tell your grandchildren, that will. ... You 
+beat Harry Potterl” 
+
+Harry couldn’t think of any reply to this, so he 
+remained silent. Fred and George were both scowling 
+again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed. 
+
+“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. “I told 
+you ... it was an accident. ...” 
+
+
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+“Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” roared Amos 
+genially, slapping his son on his back. “Always 
+modest, our Ced, always the gentleman ... but the 
+best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, 
+wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays 
+on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s 
+the better flier!” 
+
+“Must be nearly time,” said Mr. Weasley quickly, 
+pulling out his watch again. “Do you know whether 
+we’re waiting for any more, Amos?” 
+
+“No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already 
+and the Fawcetts couldn’t get tickets,” said Mr. 
+Diggory. “There aren’t any more of us in this area, are 
+there?” 
+
+“Not that I know of,” said Mr. Weasley. “Yes, it’s a 
+minute off. ... We’d better get ready. ...” 
+
+He looked around at Harry and Hermione. 
+
+“You just need to touch the Portkey, that’s all, a 
+finger will do — ” 
+
+With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the 
+nine of them crowded around the old boot held out by 
+Amos Diggory. 
+
+They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze 
+swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. It suddenly 
+occurred to Harry how odd this would look if a 
+Muggle were to walk up here now ... nine people, two 
+of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in 
+the semidarkness, waiting. ... 
+
+“Three ...” muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his 
+watch, “two ... one ...” 
+
+
+
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+It happened immediately: Harry felt as though a hook 
+just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked 
+irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could 
+feel Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their 
+shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding 
+forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his 
+forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was 
+pulling him magnetically onward and then — 
+
+His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into 
+him and he fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near 
+his head with a heavy thud. 
+
+Harry looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and 
+Cedric were still standing, though looking very 
+windswept; everybody else was on the ground. 
+
+“Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill,” said a voice. 
+
+
+
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+7 
+
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+
+
+BAGMAN AND CROUCH 
+
+Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his 
+feet. They had arrived on what appeared to be a 
+deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a 
+pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of 
+whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a 
+thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed 
+as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the 
+watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; 
+his colleague, a kilt and a poncho. 
+
+“Morning, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, picking up the 
+boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it 
+into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Harry 
+could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, 
+and a punctured football. 
+
+“Hello there, Arthur,” said Basil wearily. “Not on duty, 
+eh? It’s all right for some. ... We’ve been here all 
+night. ... You’d better get out of the way, we’ve got a 
+big party coming in from the Black Forest at five- 
+fifteen. Hang on, I’ll find your campsite. ... Weasley ... 
+Weasley ...” He consulted his parchment list. “About a 
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+
+
+quarter of a mile’s walk over there, first field you 
+come to. Site manager’s called Mr. Roberts. Diggory ... 
+second field ... ask for Mr. Payne.” 
+
+“Thanks, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned 
+everyone to follow him. 
+
+They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make 
+out much through the mist. After about twenty 
+minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam 
+into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the 
+ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, 
+rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a 
+dark wood on the horizon. They said good-bye to the 
+Diggorys and approached the cottage door. 
+
+A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at 
+the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the 
+only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard 
+their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them. 
+
+“Morning!” said Mr. Weasley brightly. 
+
+“Morning,” said the Muggle. 
+
+“Would you be Mr. Roberts?” 
+
+“Aye, I would,” said Mr. Roberts. “And who’re you?” 
+
+“Weasley — two tents, booked a couple of days ago?” 
+
+“Aye,” said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the 
+door. “You’ve got a space up by the wood there. Just 
+the one night?” 
+
+“That’s it,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“You’ll be paying now, then?” said Mr. Roberts. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Ah — right — certainly — ” said Mr. Weasley. He 
+retreated a short distance from the cottage and 
+beckoned Harry toward him. “Help me, Harry,” he 
+muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his 
+pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. “This 
+one’s a — a — a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number 
+on it now. ... So this is a five?” 
+
+“A twenty,” Harry corrected him in an undertone, 
+uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch 
+every word. 
+
+“Ah yes, so it is. ... I don’t know, these little bits of 
+paper ...” 
+
+“You foreign?” said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley 
+returned with the correct notes. 
+
+“Foreign?” repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled. 
+
+“You’re not the first one who’s had trouble with 
+money,” said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley 
+closely. “I had two try and pay me with great gold 
+coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago.” 
+
+“Did you really?” said Mr. Weasley nervously. 
+
+Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some 
+change. 
+
+“Never been this crowded,” he said suddenly, looking 
+out over the misty field again. “Hundreds of pre- 
+bookings. People usually just turn up. ...” 
+
+“Is that right?” said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out 
+for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn’t give it to him. 
+
+“Aye,” he said thoughtfully. “People from all over. 
+Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, 
+
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+
+you know? There’s a bloke walking ’round in a kilt 
+and a poncho.” 
+
+“Shouldn’t he?” said Mr. Weasley anxiously. 
+
+“It’s like some sort of ... I dunno ... like some sort of 
+rally,” said Mr. Roberts. “They all seem to know each 
+other. Like a big party.” 
+
+At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out 
+of thin air next to Mr. Roberts’s front door. 
+
+“Obliviate\” he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. 
+Roberts. 
+
+Instantly, Mr. Roberts’s eyes slid out of focus, his 
+brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell 
+over his face. Harry recognized the symptoms of one 
+who had just had his memory modified. 
+
+“A map of the campsite for you,” Mr. Roberts said 
+placidly to Mr. Weasley. “And your change.” 
+
+“Thanks very much,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+
+The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward 
+the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His 
+chin was blue with stubble and there were deep 
+purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot 
+of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley, “Been 
+having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory 
+Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo 
+Bagman’s not helping. Trotting around talking about 
+Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a 
+worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I’ll be glad 
+when this is over. See you later, Arthur.” 
+
+He Disapparated. 
+
+
+
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+
+“I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games 
+and Sports,” said Ginny, looking surprised. “He 
+should know better than to talk about Bludgers near 
+Muggles, shouldn’t he?” 
+
+“He should,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading 
+them through the gates into the campsite, “but Ludo’s 
+always been a bit ... well ... lax about security. You 
+couldn’t wish for a more enthusiastic head of the 
+sports department though. He played Quidditch for 
+England himself, you know. And he was the best 
+Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had.” 
+
+They trudged up the misty field between long rows of 
+tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had 
+clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, 
+but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, 
+or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent 
+so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be 
+surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. 
+Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection 
+of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several 
+live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther 
+on they passed a tent that had three floors and 
+several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a 
+tent that had a front garden attached, complete with 
+birdbath, sundial, and fountain. 
+
+“Always the same,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling. “We 
+can’t resist showing off when we get together. Ah, 
+here we are, look, this is us.” 
+
+They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top 
+of the field, and here was an empty space, with a 
+small sign hammered into the ground that read 
+WEEZLY. 
+
+“Couldn’t have a better spot!” said Mr. Weasley 
+happily. “The field is just on the other side of the 
+
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+wood there, we’re as close as we could be.” He hoisted 
+his backpack from his shoulders. “Right,” he said 
+excitedly, “no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not 
+when we’re out in these numbers on Muggle land. 
+We’ll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn’t be 
+too difficult. ... Muggles do it all the time. ... Here, 
+Harry, where do you reckon we should start?” 
+
+Harry had never been camping in his life; the 
+Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, 
+preferring to leave him with Mrs. Figg, an old 
+neighbor. However, he and Hermione worked out 
+where most of the poles and pegs should go, and 
+though Mr. Weasley was more of a hindrance than a 
+help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it 
+came to using the mallet, they finally managed to 
+erect a pair of shabby two-man tents. 
+
+All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. 
+Nobody looking at these tents would guess they 
+belonged to wizards, Harry thought, but the trouble 
+was that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they 
+would be a party of ten. Hermione seemed to have 
+spotted this problem too; she gave Harry a quizzical 
+look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees 
+and entered the first tent. 
+
+“Well be a bit cramped,” he called, “but I think we’ll 
+all squeeze in. Come and have a look.” 
+
+Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt 
+his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an 
+old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with 
+bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was 
+furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. 
+Figg’s house: There were crocheted covers on the 
+mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats. 
+
+
+
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+“Well, it’s not for long,” said Mr. Weasley, mopping his 
+bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the 
+four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. “I 
+borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn’t 
+camp much anymore, poor fellow, he’s got lumbago.” 
+
+He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. 
+“Well need water. ...” 
+
+“There’s a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave 
+us,” said Ron, who had followed Harry inside the tent 
+and seemed completely unimpressed by its 
+extraordinary inner proportions. “It’s on the other 
+side of the field.” 
+
+“Well, why don’t you, Harry, and Hermione go and get 
+us some water then” — Mr. Weasley handed over the 
+kettle and a couple of saucepans — “and the rest of 
+us will get some wood for a fire?” 
+
+“But we’ve got an oven,” said Ron. “Why can’t we just 
+
+
+
+“Ron, anti-Muggle security!” said Mr. Weasley, his 
+face shining with anticipation. “When real Muggles 
+camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I’ve seen them at 
+
+
+
+it! 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+After a quick tour of the girls’ tent, which was slightly 
+smaller than the boys’, though without the smell of 
+cats, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the 
+campsite with the kettle and saucepans. 
+
+Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, 
+they could see the city of tents that stretched in every 
+direction. They made their way slowly through the 
+rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just 
+dawning on Harry how many witches and wizards 
+
+
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+there must be in the world; he had never really 
+thought much about those in other countries. 
+
+Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First 
+to stir were the families with small children; Harry 
+had never seen witches and wizards this young 
+before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched 
+outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand 
+and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was 
+swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew 
+level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the 
+tent. 
+
+“ How ma.ny times, Kevin? You don’t — touch — 
+Daddy’s — wand — yecchh!” 
+
+She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her 
+scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling 
+with the little boy’s yells — “You bust slug! You bust 
+slug!” 
+
+A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, 
+barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy 
+broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls’ 
+toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had 
+already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron, 
+and Hermione he muttered distractedly, “In broad 
+daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose — ” 
+
+Here and there adult wizards and witches were 
+emerging from their tents and starting to cook 
+breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, 
+conjured fires with their wands; others were striking 
+matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though 
+sure this couldn’t work. Three African wizards sat in 
+serious conversation, all of them wearing long white 
+robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a 
+bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged 
+American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a 
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+
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+
+spangled banner stretched between their tents that 
+read: THE SALEM WITCHES’ INSTITUTE. Harry 
+caught snatches of conversation in strange languages 
+from the inside of tents they passed, and though he 
+couldn’t understand a word, the tone of every single 
+voice was excited. 
+
+“Er — is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” 
+said Ron. 
+
+It wasn’t just Ron’s eyes. They had walked into a 
+patch of tents that were all covered with a thick 
+growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though 
+small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the 
+earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that 
+had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they 
+heard their names. 
+
+“Harry! Ron! Hermione!” 
+
+It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth 
+year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock- 
+covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to 
+be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, 
+also of Gryffindor. 
+
+“Like the decorations?” said Seamus, grinning. “The 
+Ministry’s not too happy.” 
+
+“Ah, why shouldn’t we show our colors?” said Mrs. 
+Finnigan. “You should see what the Bulgarians have 
+got dangling all over their tents. You’ll be supporting 
+Ireland, of course?” she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, 
+and Hermione beadily. When they had assured her 
+that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off 
+again, though, as Ron said, “Like we’d say anything 
+else surrounded by that lot.” 
+
+
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+
+“I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all 
+over their tents?” said Hermione. 
+
+“Let’s go and have a look,” said Harry, pointing to a 
+large patch of tents upheld, where the Bulgarian flag 
+— white, green, and red — was fluttering in the 
+breeze. 
+
+The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, 
+but each and every one of them had the same poster 
+attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy 
+black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, 
+but all it did was blink and scowl. 
+
+“Krum,” said Ron quietly. 
+
+“What?” said Hermione. 
+
+“Krum!” said Ron. “Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian 
+Seeker!” 
+
+“He looks really grumpy,” said Hermione, looking 
+around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at 
+them. 
+
+“ ‘Really grumpy’?” Ron raised his eyes to the 
+heavens. “Who cares what he looks like? He’s 
+unbelievable. He’s really young too. Only just eighteen 
+or something. He’s a genius, you wait until tonight, 
+you’ll see.” 
+
+There was already a small queue for the tap in the 
+corner of the field. Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined 
+it, right behind a pair of men who were having a 
+heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard 
+who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other 
+was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a 
+pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with 
+exasperation. 
+
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+
+“Just put them on, Archie, there’s a good chap. You 
+can’t walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate’s 
+already getting suspicious — ” 
+
+“I bought this in a Muggle shop,” said the old wizard 
+stubbornly. “Muggles wear them.” 
+
+“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they 
+wear these,” said the Ministry wizard, and he 
+brandished the pinstriped trousers. 
+
+“I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in 
+indignation. “I like a healthy breeze ’round my 
+privates, thanks.” 
+
+Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the 
+giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the 
+queue and only returned when Archie had collected 
+his water and moved away. 
+
+Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of 
+the water, they made their way back through the 
+campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar 
+faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. 
+Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry’s House 
+Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged 
+Harry over to his parents’ tent to introduce him, and 
+told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the 
+Puddlemere United reserve team. Next they were 
+hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, 
+and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a very 
+pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. 
+She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a 
+lot of water down his front as he waved back. More to 
+stop Ron from smirking than anything, Harry 
+hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers 
+whom he had never seen before. 
+
+
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+“Who d’you reckon they are?” he said. “They don’t go 
+to Hogwarts, do they?” 
+
+
+
+“ ’Spect they go to some foreign school,” said Ron. “I 
+know there are others. Never met anyone who went to 
+one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil 
+. . . this was years and years ago . . . and he wanted to 
+go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn’t 
+afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said 
+he wasn’t going and sent him a cursed hat. It made 
+his ears shrivel up.” 
+
+Harry laughed but didn’t voice the amazement he felt 
+at hearing about other wizarding schools. He 
+supposed, now that he saw representatives of so 
+many nationalities in the campsite, that he had been 
+stupid never to realize that Hogwarts couldn’t be the 
+only one. He glanced at Hermione, who looked utterly 
+unsurprised by the information. No doubt she had 
+run across the news about other wizarding schools in 
+some book or other. 
+
+“You’ve been ages,” said George when they finally got 
+back to the Weasleys’ tents. 
+
+“Met a few people,” said Ron, setting the water down. 
+“You not got that fire started yet?” 
+
+“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” said Fred. 
+
+Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting 
+the fire, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Splintered 
+matches littered the ground around him, but he 
+looked as though he was having the time of his life. 
+
+“Oops!” he said as he managed to light a match and 
+promptly dropped it in surprise. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Come here, Mr. Weasley,” said Hermione kindly, 
+taking the box from him, and showing him how to do 
+it properly. 
+
+At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least 
+another hour before it was hot enough to cook 
+anything. There was plenty to watch while they 
+waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right 
+alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and 
+Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, 
+greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. 
+Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for 
+Harry’s and Hermione’s benefit; his own children 
+knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly 
+interested. 
+
+“That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin 
+Liaison Office. ... Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he’s 
+with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he’s 
+had those horns for awhile now. ... Hello, Arnie ... 
+Arnold Peasegood, he’s an Obliviator — member of the 
+Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know. ... and 
+that’s Bode and Croaker ... they’re Unspeakables. ...” 
+
+“They’re what?” 
+
+“From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no 
+idea what they get up to. ...” 
+
+At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started 
+cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and 
+Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them. 
+
+“Just Apparated, Dad,” said Percy loudly. “Ah, 
+excellent, lunch!” 
+
+They were halfway through their plates of eggs and 
+sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, 
+waving and grinning at a man who was striding 
+
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+
+toward them. “Aha!” he said. “The man of the 
+moment! Ludo!” 
+
+Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person 
+Harry had seen so far, even including old Archie in 
+his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long 
+Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright 
+yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was 
+splashed across his chest. He had the look of a 
+powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes 
+were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely 
+had not had in the days when he had played 
+Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed 
+(probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), 
+but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy 
+complexion made him look like a very overgrown 
+schoolboy. 
+
+“Ahoy there!” Bagman called happily. He was walking 
+as though he had springs attached to the balls of his 
+feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement. 
+
+“Arthur, old man,” he puffed as he reached the 
+campfire, “what a day, eh? What a day! Could we 
+have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless 
+night coming . . . and hardly a hiccough in the 
+arrangements. ... Not much for me to do!” 
+
+Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry 
+wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence 
+of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet 
+sparks twenty feet into the air. 
+
+Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. 
+Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman 
+ran his department did not prevent him from wanting 
+to make a good impression. 
+
+
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+
+“Ah — yes,” said Mr. Weasley, grinning, “this is my 
+son Percy. He’s just started at the Ministry — and 
+this is Fred — no, George, sorry — that’s Fred — Bill, 
+Charlie, Ron — my daughter, Ginny — and Ron’s 
+friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.” 
+
+Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he 
+heard Harry’s name, and his eyes performed the 
+familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry’s forehead. 
+
+“Everyone,” Mr. Weasley continued, “this is Ludo 
+Bagman, you know who he is, it’s thanks to him we’ve 
+got such good tickets — ” 
+
+Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it 
+had been nothing. 
+
+“Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?” he said 
+eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of 
+gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. “I’ve 
+already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will 
+score first — I offered him nice odds, considering 
+Ireland’s front three are the strongest I’ve seen in 
+years — and little Agatha Timms has put up half 
+shares in her eel farm on a week-long match.” 
+
+“Oh ... go on then,” said Mr. Weasley. “Let’s see ... a 
+Galleon on Ireland to win?” 
+
+“A Galleon?” Ludo Bagman looked slightly 
+disappointed, but recovered himself. “Very well, very 
+well . . . any other takers?” 
+
+“They’re a bit young to be gambling,” said Mr. 
+
+Weasley. “Molly wouldn’t like — ” 
+
+“Well bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three 
+Knuts,” said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all 
+
+
+
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+their money, “that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum 
+gets the Snitch. Oh and we’ll throw in a fake wand.” 
+
+
+
+“You don’t want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish 
+like that — ” Percy hissed, but Bagman didn’t seem to 
+think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, 
+his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it 
+from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk 
+and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared 
+with laughter. 
+
+“Excellent! I haven’t seen one that convincing in 
+years! I’d pay five Galleons for that!” 
+
+Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval. 
+
+“Boys,” said Mr. Weasley under his breath, “I don’t 
+want you betting. ... That’s all your savings. ... Your 
+mother — ” 
+
+“Don’t be a spoilsport, Arthur!” boomed Ludo 
+Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. “They’re old 
+enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland 
+will win but Krum ’ll get the Snitch? Not a chance, 
+boys, not a chance. ... I’ll give you excellent odds on 
+that one. ... We’ll add five Galleons for the funny 
+wand, then, shall we. ...” 
+
+Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman 
+whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting 
+down the twins’ names. 
+
+“Cheers,” said George, taking the slip of parchment 
+Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully. 
+Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an 
+eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite 
+number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand 
+
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+a word he’s saying. Barty’ll be able to sort it out. He 
+speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.” 
+
+“Mr. Crouch?” said Percy, suddenly abandoning his 
+look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing 
+with excitement. “He speaks over two hundred! 
+Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll ...” 
+
+“Anyone can speak Troll,” said Fred dismissively. “All 
+you have to do is point and grunt.” 
+
+Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked 
+the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil. 
+
+“Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?” Mr. Weasley 
+asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass 
+beside them all. 
+
+“Not a dicky bird,” said Bagman comfortably. “But 
+she’ll turn up. Poor old Bertha ... memory like a leaky 
+cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my 
+word for it. She’ll wander back into the office 
+sometime in October, thinking it’s still July.” 
+
+“You don’t think it might be time to send someone to 
+look for her?” Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as 
+Percy handed Bagman his tea. 
+
+“Barty Crouch keeps saying that,” said Bagman, his 
+round eyes widening innocently, “but we really can’t 
+spare anyone at the moment. Oh — talk of the devil! 
+Barty!” 
+
+A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he 
+could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo 
+Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp 
+robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, 
+dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The 
+parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally 
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+straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked 
+as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes 
+were very highly polished. Harry could see at once 
+why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in 
+rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied 
+with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly 
+that he could have passed for a bank manager; Harry 
+doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him 
+for what he really was. 
+
+“Pull up a bit of grass, Barty,” said Ludo brightly, 
+patting the ground beside him. 
+
+“No thank you, Ludo,” said Crouch, and there was a 
+bite of impatience in his voice. “I’ve been looking for 
+you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add 
+another twelve seats to the Top Box.” 
+
+“Oh is that what they’re after?” said Bagman. “I 
+thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of 
+tweezers. Bit of a strong accent.” 
+
+“Mr. Crouch!” said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a 
+kind of half-bow that made him look like a 
+hunchback. “Would you like a cup of tea?” 
+
+“Oh,” said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild 
+surprise. “Yes — thank you, Weatherby.” 
+
+Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, 
+very pink around the ears, busied himself with the 
+kettle. 
+
+“Oh and I’ve been wanting a word with you too, 
+Arthur,” said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon 
+Mr. Weasley. “Ali Bashir’s on the warpath. He wants a 
+word with you about your embargo on flying carpets.” 
+
+Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I’ve 
+told him once I’ve told him a hundred times: Carpets 
+are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of 
+Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?” 
+
+“I doubt it,” said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from 
+Percy. “He’s desperate to export here.” 
+
+“Well, they’ll never replace brooms in Britain, will 
+they?” said Bagman. 
+
+“Ali thinks there’s a niche in the market for a family 
+vehicle,” said Mr. Crouch. “I remember my 
+grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve 
+— but that was before carpets were banned, of 
+course.” 
+
+He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any 
+doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the 
+law. 
+
+“So, been keeping busy, Barty?” said Bagman 
+breezily. 
+
+“Fairly,” said Mr. Crouch dryly. “Organizing Portkeys 
+across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo.” 
+
+“I expect you’ll both be glad when this is over?” said 
+Mr. Weasley. 
+
+Ludo Bagman looked shocked. 
+
+“Glad! Don’t know when I’ve had more fun. ... Still, 
+it’s not as though we haven’t got anything to look 
+forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?” 
+
+Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“We agreed not to make the announcement until all 
+the details — ” 
+
+“Oh details!” said Bagman, waving the word away like 
+a cloud of midges. “They’ve signed, haven’t they? 
+They’ve agreed, haven’t they? I bet you anything these 
+kids’ll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it’s 
+happening at Hogwarts — ” 
+
+“Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know,” 
+said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman’s remarks 
+short. “Thank you for the tea, Weatherby.” 
+
+He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited 
+for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, 
+swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his 
+pockets chinking merrily. 
+
+“See you all later!” he said. “You’ll be up in the Top 
+Box with me — I’m commentating!” He waved, Barty 
+Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them 
+Disapparated. 
+
+“What’s happening at Hogwarts, Dad?” said Fred at 
+once. “What were they talking about?” 
+
+“You’ll find out soon enough,” said Mr.Weasley, 
+smiling. 
+
+“It’s classified information, until such time as the 
+Ministry decides to release it,” said Percy stiffly. “Mr. 
+Crouch was quite right not to disclose it.” 
+
+“Oh shut up, Weatherby,” said Fred. 
+
+A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over 
+the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the 
+still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with 
+anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain 
+
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+
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+
+over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last 
+vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed 
+to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting 
+the signs of blatant magic now breaking out 
+everywhere. 
+
+Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying 
+trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary 
+merchandise. There were luminous rosettes — green 
+for Ireland, red for Bulgaria — which were squealing 
+the names of the players, pointed green hats 
+bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves 
+adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both 
+countries that played their national anthems as they 
+were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that 
+really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, 
+which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening 
+themselves. 
+
+“Been saving my pocket money all summer for this,” 
+Ron told Harry as they and Hermione strolled through 
+the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron 
+purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green 
+rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, 
+the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked 
+backward and forward over Ron’s hand, scowling up 
+at the green rosette above him. 
+
+“Wow, look at these!” said Harry, hurrying over to a 
+cart piled high with what looked like brass 
+binoculars, except that they were covered with all 
+sorts of weird knobs and dials. 
+
+“Omnioculars,” said the saleswizard eagerly. “You can 
+replay action . . . slow everything down . . . and they 
+flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. 
+Bargain — ten Galleons each.” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Wish I hadn’t bought this now,” said Ron, gesturing 
+at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at 
+the Omnioculars. 
+
+“Three pairs,” said Harry firmly to the wizard. 
+
+“No — don’t bother,” said Ron, going red. He was 
+always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had 
+inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much 
+more money than he did. 
+
+“You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harry 
+told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and 
+Hermione’s hands. “For about ten years, mind.” 
+
+“Fair enough,” said Ron, grinning. 
+
+“Oooh, thanks, Harry,” said Hermione. “And I’ll get us 
+some programs, look — ” 
+
+Their money bags considerably lighter, they went 
+back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all 
+sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was 
+carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no 
+souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold. 
+
+And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere 
+beyond the woods, and at once, green and red 
+lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to 
+the field. 
+
+“It’s time!” said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any 
+of them. “Come on, let’s go!” 
+
+
+
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+
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+
+
+-4 
+
+
+
+THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP 
+
+Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, 
+they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern- 
+lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of 
+people moving around them, shouts and laughter, 
+snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish 
+excitement was highly infectious; Harry couldn’t stop 
+grinning. They walked through the wood for twenty 
+minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they 
+emerged on the other side and found themselves in 
+the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Harry 
+could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls 
+surrounding the field, he could tell that ten 
+cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it. 
+
+“Seats a hundred thousand,” said Mr. Weasley, 
+spotting the awestruck look on Harry’s face. “Ministry 
+task force of five hundred have been working on it all 
+year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. 
+Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all 
+year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent 
+appointments and had to dash away again . . . bless 
+them,” he added fondly, leading the way toward the 
+Page | 105 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a 
+swarm of shouting witches and wizards. 
+
+“Prime seats!” said the Ministry witch at the entrance 
+when she checked their tickets. “Top Box! Straight 
+upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go.” 
+
+The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich 
+purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the 
+crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into 
+the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley’s party 
+kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the 
+staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at 
+the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly 
+halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty 
+purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and 
+Harry, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, 
+looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could 
+never have imagined. 
+
+A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking 
+their places in the seats, which rose in levels around 
+the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a 
+mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from 
+the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet 
+from their lofty position. At either end of the field 
+stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite 
+them, almost at Harry’s eye level, was a gigantic 
+blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as 
+though an invisible giant’s hand were scrawling upon 
+the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching 
+it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements 
+across the field. 
+
+The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family — safe, 
+reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer ... Mrs. 
+Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, 
+No Stain! ... Gladrags Wizardwear — London, Paris, 
+Hogsmeade ... 
+
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+
+
+
+Harry tore his eyes away from the sign and looked 
+over his shoulder to see who else was sharing the box 
+with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny 
+creature sitting in the second from last seat at the 
+end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs 
+were so short they stuck out in front of it on the 
+chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and 
+it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, 
+batlike ears were oddly familiar. . . . 
+
+“ Dobby ?” said Harry incredulously. 
+
+The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, 
+revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact 
+size and shape of a large tomato. It wasn’t Dobby — it 
+was, however, unmistakably a house-elf, as Harry’s 
+friend Dobby had been. Harry had set Dobby free 
+from his old owners, the Malfoy family. 
+
+“Did sir just call me Dobby?” squeaked the elf 
+curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was 
+higher even than Dobby’s had been, a teeny, 
+quivering squeak of a voice, and Harry suspected — 
+though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf — that 
+this one might just be female. Ron and Hermione 
+spun around in their seats to look. Though they had 
+heard a lot about Dobby from Harry, they had never 
+actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in 
+interest. 
+
+“Sorry,” Harry told the elf, “I just thought you were 
+someone I knew.” 
+
+“But I knows Dobby too, sir!” squeaked the elf. She 
+was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, 
+though the Top Box was not brightly lit. “My name is 
+Winky, sir — and you, sir — ” Her dark brown eyes 
+widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon 
+Harry’s scar. “You is surely Harry Potter!” 
+
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+
+
+
+“Yeah, I am,” said Harry. 
+
+
+
+“But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!” she said, 
+lowering her hands very slightly and looking 
+awestruck. 
+
+“How is he?” said Harry. “How’s freedom suiting 
+him?” 
+
+“Ah, sir,” said Winky, shaking her head, “ah sir, 
+meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did 
+Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free.” 
+
+“Why?” said Harry, taken aback. “What’s wrong with 
+him?” 
+
+“Freedom is going to Dobby’s head, sir,” said Winky 
+sadly. “Ideas above his station, sir. Can’t get another 
+position, sir.” 
+
+“Why not?” said Harry. 
+
+Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and 
+whispered, “He is wanting paying for his work, sir.” 
+
+“Paying?” said Harry blankly. “Well — why shouldn’t 
+he be paid?” 
+
+Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed 
+her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden 
+again. 
+
+“House-elves is not paid, sir!” she said in a muffled 
+squeak. “No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find 
+yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is 
+getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is 
+unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing 
+around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear 
+you’s up in front of the Department for the Regulation 
+Page | 108 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common 
+goblin.” 
+
+“Well, it’s about time he had a bit of fun,” said Harry. 
+
+“House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry 
+Potter,” said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. 
+“House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking 
+heights at all, Harry Potter” — she glanced toward the 
+edge of the box and gulped — “but my master sends 
+me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.” 
+
+“Why’s he sent you up here, if he knows you don’t like 
+heights?” said Harry, frowning. 
+
+“Master — master wants me to save him a seat, Harry 
+Potter. He is very busy,” said Winky, tilting her head 
+toward the empty space beside her. “Winky is wishing 
+she is back in master’s tent, Harry Potter, but Winky 
+does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf.” 
+
+She gave the edge of the box another frightened look 
+and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back 
+to the others. 
+
+“So that’s a house-elf?” Ron muttered. “Weird things, 
+aren’t they?” 
+
+“Dobby was weirder,” said Harry fervently. 
+
+Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing 
+them, staring down into the crowd on the other side 
+of the stadium. 
+
+“Wild!” he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. 
+“I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose 
+again ... and again ... and again ...” 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through 
+her velvet-covered, tasseled program. 
+
+
+
+“ ‘A display from the team mascots will precede the 
+match,’ ” she read aloud. 
+
+“Oh that’s always worth watching,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+“National teams bring creatures from their native 
+land, you know, to put on a bit of a show.” 
+
+The box filled gradually around them over the next 
+half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with 
+people who were obviously very important wizards. 
+Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as 
+though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When 
+Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, 
+arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off 
+and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them 
+with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, 
+throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius 
+Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met 
+before, and Fudge shook Harry’s hand in a fatherly 
+fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to 
+the wizards on either side of him. 
+
+“Harry Potter, you know,” he told the Bulgarian 
+minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of 
+black velvet trimmed with gold and didn’t seem to 
+understand a word of English. “Harry Potter ... oh 
+come on now, you know who he is . . . the boy who 
+survived You-Know-Who ... you do know who he is — ” 
+
+The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry’s scar 
+and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at 
+it. 
+
+“Knew we’d get there in the end,” said Fudge wearily 
+to Harry. “I’m no great shakes at languages; I need 
+Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his 
+
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+
+
+
+
+house-elf’s saving him a seat. ... Good job too, these 
+Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the 
+best places ... ah, and here’s Lucius!” 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned quickly. Edging 
+along the second row to three still-empty seats right 
+behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the 
+house-elf’s former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, 
+Draco; and a woman Harry supposed must be Draco’s 
+mother. 
+
+Harry and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since 
+their very first journey to Hogwarts. A pale boy with a 
+pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly 
+resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall 
+and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she 
+hadn’t been wearing a look that suggested there was 
+a nasty smell under her nose. 
+
+“Ah, Fudge,” said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as 
+he reached the Minister of Magic. “How are you? I 
+don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, 
+Draco?” 
+
+“How do you do, how do you do?” said Fudge, smiling 
+and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. “And allow me to 
+introduce you to Mr. Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr. — 
+well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he 
+can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never 
+mind. And let’s see who else — you know Arthur 
+Weasley, I daresay?” 
+
+It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy 
+looked at each other and Harry vividly recalled the 
+last time they had come face-to-face: It had been in 
+Flourish and Blotts’ bookshop, and they had had a 
+fight. Mr. Malfoy’s cold gray eyes swept over Mr. 
+Weasley, and then up and down the row. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Good lord, Arthur,” he said softly. “What did you 
+have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your 
+house wouldn’t have fetched this much?” 
+
+Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius has just 
+given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s 
+Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. 
+He’s here as my guest.” 
+
+“How — how nice,” said Mr. Weasley, with a very 
+strained smile. 
+
+Mr. Malfoy’s eyes had returned to Hermione, who 
+went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at 
+him. Harry knew exactly what was making Mr. 
+Malfoy’s lip curl like that. The Malfoys prided 
+themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they 
+considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, 
+second-class. However, under the gaze of the Minister 
+of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn’t dare say anything. He 
+nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued 
+down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron, 
+and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled 
+himself between his mother and father. 
+
+“Slimy gits,” Ron muttered as he, Harry, and 
+Hermione turned to face the field again. Next 
+moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box. 
+
+“Everyone ready?” he said, his round face gleaming 
+like a great, excited Edam. “Minister — ready to go?” 
+
+“Ready when you are, Ludo,” said Fudge comfortably. 
+
+Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own 
+throat, and said “Sonorusl” and then spoke over the 
+roar of sound that was now filling the packed 
+stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into 
+every corner of the stands. 
+
+Page | 112 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“Ladies and gentlemen ... welcome! Welcome to the 
+final of the four hundred and twenty-second 
+Quidditch World Cup!” 
+
+The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of 
+flags waved, adding their discordant national 
+anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite 
+them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott’s 
+Every Flavor Beans — A Risk With Every Mouthfull) 
+and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0. 
+
+“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce 
+... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” 
+
+The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid 
+block of scarlet, roared its approval. 
+
+“I wonder what they’ve brought,” said Mr. Weasley, 
+leaning forward in his seat. “Aaah!” He suddenly 
+whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly 
+on his robes. “Veelal” 
+
+“What are veel — ?” 
+
+But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the 
+field, and Harry’s question was answered for him. 
+Veela were women . . . the most beautiful women Harry 
+had ever seen ... except that they weren’t — they 
+couldn’t be — human. This puzzled Harry for a 
+moment while he tried to guess what exactly they 
+could be; what could make their skin shine moon- 
+bright like that, or their white-gold hair fan out 
+behind them without wind . . . but then the music 
+started, and Harry stopped worrying about them not 
+being human — in fact, he stopped worrying about 
+anything at all. 
+
+The veela had started to dance, and Harry’s mind had 
+gone completely and blissfully blank. All that 
+
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+
+
+
+mattered in the world was that he kept watching the 
+veela, because if they stopped dancing, terrible things 
+would happen. ... 
+
+And as the veela danced faster and faster, wild, half- 
+formed thoughts started chasing through Harry’s 
+dazed mind. He wanted to do something very 
+impressive, right now. Jumping from the box into the 
+stadium seemed a good idea . . . but would it be good 
+enough? 
+
+“Harry, what are you doing?” said Hermione’s voice 
+from a long way off. 
+
+The music stopped. Harry blinked. He was standing 
+up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the 
+box. Next to him, Ron was frozen in an attitude that 
+looked as though he were about to dive from a 
+springboard. 
+
+Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn’t 
+want the veela to go. Harry was with them; he would, 
+of course, be supporting Bulgaria, and he wondered 
+vaguely why he had a large green shamrock pinned to 
+his chest. Ron, meanwhile, was absent-mindedly 
+shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, 
+smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the 
+hat out of his hands. 
+
+“You’ll be wanting that,” he said, “once Ireland have 
+had their say.” 
+
+“Huh?” said Ron, staring openmouthed at the veela, 
+who had now lined up along one side of the field. 
+
+Hermione made a loud tutting noise. She reached up 
+and pulled Harry back into his seat. “Honestlyl” she 
+said. 
+
+
+
+Page | 114 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“And now,” roared Ludo Bagman’s voice, “kindly put 
+your wands in the air ... for the Irish National Team 
+Mascots!” 
+
+Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and- 
+gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one 
+circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller 
+comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A 
+rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting 
+the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and 
+aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the 
+rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and 
+merged; they had formed a great shimmering 
+shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to 
+soar over the stands. Something like golden rain 
+seemed to be falling from it — 
+
+“Excellent!” yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over 
+them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing 
+off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the 
+shamrock, Harry realized that it was actually 
+comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men 
+with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or 
+green. 
+
+“Leprechauns!” said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous 
+applause of the crowd, many of whom were still 
+fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to 
+retrieve the gold. 
+
+“There you go,” Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of 
+gold coins into Harry’s hand, “for the Omnioculars! 
+Now you’ve got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!” 
+
+The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns 
+drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from 
+the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to 
+watch the match. 
+
+
+
+Page | 115 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome — 
+the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you — 
+Dimitrov!” 
+
+A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast 
+it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an 
+entrance far below, to wild applause from the 
+Bulgarian supporters. 
+
+“Ivanova!” 
+
+A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out. 
+
+“Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — 
+Krum\” 
+
+“That’s him, that’s him!” yelled Ron, following Krum 
+with his Omnioculars. Harry quickly focused his own. 
+
+Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with 
+a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He 
+looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to 
+believe he was only eighteen. 
+
+“And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch 
+Team!” yelled Bagman. “Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! 
+Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch).” 
+
+Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Harry spun a 
+small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed 
+the players down enough to read the word “Firebolt” 
+on each of their brooms and see their names, 
+embroidered in silver, upon their backs. 
+
+“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, 
+acclaimed Chairwizard of the International 
+Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!” 
+
+
+
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+A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with 
+a mustache to rival Uncle Vernon’s, wearing robes of 
+pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the 
+field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the 
+mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate 
+under one arm, his broomstick under the other. 
+
+Harry spun the speed dial on his Omnioculars back 
+to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his 
+broomstick and kicked the crate open — four balls 
+burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black 
+Bludgers, and (Harry saw it for the briefest moment, 
+before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged 
+Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, 
+Mostafa shot into the air after the balls. 
+
+“Theeeeeeeey’re OFF!” screamed Bagman. “And it’s 
+Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! 
+Levski! Moran!” 
+
+It was Quidditch as Harry had never seen it played 
+before. He was pressing his Omnioculars so hard to 
+his glasses that they were cutting into the bridge of 
+his nose. The speed of the players was incredible — 
+the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another 
+so fast that Bagman only had time to say their 
+names. Harry spun the slow dial on the right of his 
+Omnioculars again, pressed the play-by-play button 
+on the top, and he was immediately watching in slow 
+motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across 
+the lenses and the noise of the crowd pounded 
+against his eardrums. 
+
+Hawkshead Attacking Formation, he read as he 
+watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely 
+together, Troy in the center, slightly ahead of Mullet 
+and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians. 
+Porskoff Ploy flashed up next, as Troy made as though 
+to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the 
+Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to 
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+
+
+
+
+Moran. One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung 
+hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, 
+knocking it into Moran’s path; Moran ducked to avoid 
+the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, 
+soaring beneath, caught it — 
+
+“TROY SCORES!” roared Bagman, and the stadium 
+shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. “Ten 
+zero to Ireland!” 
+
+“What?” Harry yelled, looking wildly around through 
+his Omnioculars. “But Levski’s got the Quaffle!” 
+
+“Harry, if you’re not going to watch at normal speed, 
+you’re going to miss things!” shouted Hermione, who 
+was dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air 
+while Troy did a lap of honor around the field. Harry 
+looked quickly over the top of his Omni-oculars and 
+saw that the leprechauns watching from the sidelines 
+had all risen into the air again and formed the great, 
+glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were 
+watching them sulkily. 
+
+Furious with himself, Harry spun his speed dial back 
+to normal as play resumed. 
+
+Harry knew enough about Quidditch to see that the 
+Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a 
+seamless team, their movements so well coordinated 
+that they appeared to be reading one another’s minds 
+as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on 
+Harry’s chest kept squeaking their names: “Troy — 
+Mullet — Moran).” And within ten minutes, Ireland had 
+scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero 
+and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause 
+from the green-clad supporters. 
+
+The match became still faster, but more brutal. 
+
+Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were 
+
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+whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the 
+Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from 
+using some of their best moves; twice they were forced 
+to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to 
+break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; 
+and score Bulgaria’s first goal. 
+
+“Fingers in your ears!” bellowed Mr. Weasley as the 
+veela started to dance in celebration. Harry screwed 
+up his eyes too; he wanted to keep his mind on the 
+game. After a few seconds, he chanced a glance at the 
+field. The veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria 
+was again in possession of the Quaffle. 
+
+“Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova — oh I say!” 
+roared Bagman. 
+
+One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two 
+Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the 
+center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though 
+they had just jumped from airplanes without 
+parachutes. Harry followed their descent through his 
+Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was 
+
+
+
+“They’re going to crash!” screamed Hermione next to 
+Harry. 
+
+She was half right — at the very last second, Viktor 
+Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, 
+however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could 
+be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose 
+from the Irish seats. 
+
+“Fool!” moaned Mr. Weasley. “Krum was feinting!” 
+
+“It’s time-out!” yelled Bagman’s voice, “as trained 
+mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan 
+Lynch!” 
+
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+
+“He’ll be okay, he only got ploughed!” Charlie said 
+reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side 
+of the box, looking horror-struck. “Which is what 
+Krum was after, of course. ...” 
+
+Harry hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play 
+buttons on his Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, 
+and put them back up to his eyes. 
+
+He watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow 
+motion. Wronski Defensive Feint — dangerous Seeker 
+diversion read the shining purple lettering across his 
+lenses. He saw Krum’s face contorted with 
+concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in 
+time, while Lynch was flattened, and he understood 
+— Krum hadn’t seen the Snitch at all, he was just 
+making Lynch copy him. Harry had never seen 
+anyone fly like that; Krum hardly looked as though he 
+was using a broomstick at all; he moved so easily 
+through the air that he looked unsupported and 
+weightless. Harry turned his Omnioculars back to 
+normal and focused them on Krum. He was now 
+circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by 
+mediwizards with cups of potion. Harry, focusing still 
+more closely upon Krum’s face, saw his dark eyes 
+darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He 
+was using the time while Lynch was revived to look 
+for the Snitch without interference. 
+
+Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the 
+green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and 
+kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give 
+Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle 
+again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill 
+unrivaled by anything Harry had seen so far. 
+
+After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland 
+had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now 
+
+
+
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+leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and 
+the game was starting to get dirtier. 
+
+As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, 
+clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the 
+Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. 
+Whatever happened was over so quickly Harry didn’t 
+catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, 
+and Mostafa’s long, shrill whistle blast, told him it 
+had been a foul. 
+
+“And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for 
+cobbing — excessive use of elbows!” Bagman informed 
+the roaring spectators. “And — yes, it’s a penalty to 
+Ireland!” 
+
+The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air 
+like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had 
+been fouled, now darted together to form the words 
+“HA, HA, HA!” The veela on the other side of the field 
+leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and 
+started to dance again. 
+
+As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their 
+fingers into their ears, but Hermione, who hadn’t 
+bothered, was soon tugging on Harry’s arm. He 
+turned to look at her, and she pulled his fingers 
+impatiently out of his ears. 
+
+“Look at the referee!” she said, giggling. 
+
+Harry looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had 
+landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was 
+acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles 
+and smoothing his mustache excitedly. 
+
+“Now, we can’t have that!” said Ludo Bagman, though 
+he sounded highly amused. “Somebody slap the 
+referee!” 
+
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+
+A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his 
+fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa 
+hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; 
+Harry, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw 
+that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had 
+started shouting at the veela, who had stopped 
+dancing and were looking mutinous. 
+
+“And unless I’m much mistaken, Mostafa is actually 
+attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!” 
+said Bagman’s voice. “Now there’s something we 
+haven’t seen before. ... Oh this could turn nasty. ...” 
+
+It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, 
+landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing 
+furiously with him, gesticulating toward the 
+leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words 
+“HEE, HEE, HEE.” Mostafa was not impressed by the 
+Bulgarians’ arguments, however; he was jabbing his 
+finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying 
+again, and when they refused, he gave two short 
+blasts on his whistle. 
+
+“Two penalties for Ireland!” shouted Bagman, and the 
+Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. “And Volkov and 
+Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms . . . 
+yes ... there they go ... and Troy takes the Quaffle ...” 
+
+Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything 
+they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were 
+acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in 
+particular seemed not to care whether their clubs 
+made contact with Bludger or human as they swung 
+them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight 
+at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her 
+off her broom. 
+
+“Foul\” roared the Irish supporters as one, all 
+standing up in a great wave of green. 
+
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+
+“Foul!” echoed Ludo Bagman’s magically magnified 
+voice. “Dimitrov skins Moran — deliberately flying to 
+collide there — and it’s got to be another penalty — 
+yes, there’s the whistle!” 
+
+The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this 
+time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a 
+very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At 
+this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they 
+launched themselves across the field and began 
+throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the 
+leprechauns. Watching through his Omnioculars, 
+Harry saw that they didn’t look remotely beautiful 
+now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into 
+sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings 
+were bursting from their shoulders — 
+
+“And that, boys,” yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult 
+of the crowd below, “is why you should never go for 
+looks alone!” 
+
+Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to 
+separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little 
+success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was 
+nothing to the one taking place above. Harry turned 
+this way and that, staring through his Omnioculars, 
+as the Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a 
+bullet. 
+
+“Levski — Dimitrov — Moran — Troy — Mullet — 
+Ivanova — Moran again — Moran — MORAN 
+SCORES!” 
+
+But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely 
+heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now 
+issuing from the Ministry members’ wands, and the 
+furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game 
+recommenced immediately; now Levski had the 
+Quaffle, now Dimitrov — 
+
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+
+
+The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing 
+Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, 
+who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in 
+the face. 
+
+There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum’s 
+nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but 
+Hassan Mostafa didn’t blow his whistle. He had 
+become distracted, and Harry couldn’t blame him; 
+one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set 
+his broom tail alight. 
+
+Harry wanted someone to realize that Krum was 
+injured; even though he was supporting Ireland, 
+
+Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ron 
+obviously felt the same. 
+
+“Time-out! Ah, come on, he can’t play like that, look 
+at him — ” 
+
+“Look at Lynch 1” Harry yelled. 
+
+For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, 
+and Harry was quite sure that this was no Wronski 
+Feint; this was the real thing. ... 
+
+“He’s seen the Snitch!” Harry shouted. “He’s seen it! 
+Look at him go!” 
+
+Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was 
+happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great 
+wave of green, screaming their Seeker on . . . but Krum 
+was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, 
+Harry had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying 
+through the air behind him, but he was drawing level 
+with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward 
+the ground again — 
+
+“They’re going to crash!” shrieked Hermione. 
+
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+
+“They’re not!” roared Ron. 
+
+“Lynch is!” yelled Harry. 
+
+And he was right — for the second time, Lynch hit the 
+ground with tremendous force and was immediately 
+stampeded by a horde of angry veela. 
+
+“The Snitch, where’s the Snitch?” bellowed Charlie, 
+along the row. 
+
+“He’s got it — Krum’s got it — it’s all over!” shouted 
+Harry. 
+
+Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, 
+was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint 
+of gold in his hand. 
+
+The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, 
+IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn’t seem to 
+have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as 
+though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the 
+rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and 
+louder and erupted into screams of delight. 
+
+“IRELAND WINS!” Bagman shouted, who like the 
+Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of 
+the match. “KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT 
+IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don’t think any of us 
+were expecting that!” 
+
+“What did he catch the Snitch for?” Ron bellowed, 
+even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his 
+hands over his head. “He ended it when Ireland were 
+a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!” 
+
+“He knew they were never going to catch up!” Harry 
+shouted back over all the noise, also applauding 
+
+
+
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+loudly. “The Irish Chasers were too good. ... He 
+wanted to end it on his terms, that’s all. ...” 
+
+
+
+“He was very brave, wasn’t he?” Hermione said, 
+leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of 
+mediwizards blasted a path through the battling 
+leprechauns and veela to get to him. “He looks a 
+terrible mess. ...” 
+
+Harry put his Omnioculars to his eyes again. It was 
+hard to see what was happening below, because 
+leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the 
+field, but he could just make out Krum, surrounded 
+by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and 
+refused to let them mop him up. His team members 
+were around him, shaking their heads and looking 
+dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were 
+dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from 
+their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, 
+the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the 
+veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful 
+selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn. 
+
+“Veil, ve fought bravely,” said a gloomy voice behind 
+Harry. He looked around; it was the Bulgarian 
+Minister of Magic. 
+
+“You can speak English!” said Fudge, sounding 
+outraged. “And you’ve been letting me mime 
+everything all day!” 
+
+“Veil, it vos very funny,” said the Bulgarian minister, 
+shrugging. 
+
+“And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, 
+flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup 
+itself is brought into the Top Box!” roared Bagman. 
+
+
+
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+Harry’s eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding 
+white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated 
+so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. 
+Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting 
+wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, 
+which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still 
+looking very disgruntled that he’d been using sign 
+language all day for nothing. 
+
+“Let’s have a really loud hand for the gallant losers — 
+Bulgaria!” Bagman shouted. 
+
+And up the stairs into the box came the seven 
+defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was 
+applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousands 
+and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and 
+winking in their direction. 
+
+One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of 
+seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of 
+each as they shook hands with their own minister 
+and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, 
+looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming 
+spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding 
+the Snitch. Harry noticed that he seemed much less 
+coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck- 
+footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when 
+Krum’s name was announced, the whole stadium 
+gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar. 
+
+And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being 
+supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash 
+seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked 
+strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy 
+and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd 
+below thundered its approval. Harry’s hands were 
+numb with clapping. 
+
+
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+At last, when the Irish team had left the box to 
+perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan 
+Lynch on the back of Connolly’s, clutching hard 
+around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort 
+of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and 
+muttered, “Quietus.” 
+
+“They’ll be talking about this one for years,” he said 
+hoarsely, “a really unexpected twist, that. ... shame it 
+couldn’t have lasted longer. ... Ah yes. ... yes, I owe 
+you . . . how much?” 
+
+For Fred and George had just scrambled over the 
+backs of their seats and were standing in front of 
+Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their 
+hands outstretched. 
+
+
+
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+
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+
+THE DARK MARK 
+
+“ Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr. 
+Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made 
+their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs. 
+
+“Don’t worry, Dad,” said Fred gleefully, “we’ve got big 
+plans for this money. We don’t want it confiscated.” 
+
+Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was 
+going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to 
+decide, upon reflection, that he didn’t want to know. 
+
+They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding 
+out of the stadium and back to their campsites. 
+Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night 
+air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit 
+path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, 
+cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally 
+reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and 
+given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley 
+agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa 
+together before turning in. They were soon arguing 
+enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn 
+
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+into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and 
+it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny 
+table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that 
+Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and 
+insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione and Ginny 
+went into the next tent, and Harry and the rest of the 
+Weasleys changed into pajamas and clambered into 
+their bunks. From the other side of the campsite they 
+could still hear much singing and the odd echoing 
+bang. 
+
+“Oh I am glad I’m not on duty,” muttered Mr. Weasley 
+sleepily. “I wouldn’t fancy having to go and tell the 
+Irish they’ve got to stop celebrating.” 
+
+Harry, who was on a top bunk above Ron, lay staring 
+up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow 
+of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, 
+and picturing again some of Krum’s more spectacular 
+moves. He was itching to get back on his own Firebolt 
+and try out the Wronski Feint. ... Somehow Oliver 
+Wood had never managed to convey with all his 
+wriggling diagrams what that move was supposed to 
+look like. ... Harry saw himself in robes that had his 
+name on the back, and imagined the sensation of 
+hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as 
+Ludo Bagman’s voice echoed throughout the stadium, 
+“I give you ... PotteA.” 
+
+Harry never knew whether or not he had actually 
+dropped off to sleep — his fantasies of flying like 
+Krum might well have slipped into actual dreams — 
+all he knew was that, quite suddenly, Mr. Weasley 
+was shouting. 
+
+“Get up! Ron — Harry — come on now, get up, this is 
+urgent!” 
+
+
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+Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit 
+canvas. 
+
+“ ’S’ matter?” he said. 
+
+Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The 
+noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had 
+stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of 
+people running. He slipped down from the bunk and 
+reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had 
+pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, “No 
+time, Harry — just grab a jacket and get outside — 
+quickly!” 
+
+Harry did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, 
+Ron at his heels. 
+
+By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he 
+could see people running away into the woods, fleeing 
+something that was moving across the field toward 
+them, something that was emitting odd flashes of 
+light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of 
+laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward 
+them; then came a burst of strong green light, which 
+illuminated the scene. 
+
+A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving 
+together with wands pointing straight upward, was 
+marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at 
+them. ... They didn’t seem to have faces. ... Then he 
+realized that their heads were hooded and their faces 
+masked. High above them, floating along in midair, 
+four struggling figures were being contorted into 
+grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked 
+wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the 
+people above them were marionettes operated by 
+invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. 
+Two of the figures were very small. 
+
+
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+More wizards were joining the marching group, 
+laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents 
+crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. 
+Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a 
+tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. 
+The screaming grew louder. 
+
+The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they 
+passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one 
+of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The 
+other three looked as though they might be his wife 
+and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. 
+Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress 
+fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she 
+struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her 
+screeched and hooted with glee. 
+
+“That’s sick,” Ron muttered, watching the smallest 
+Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty 
+feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from 
+side to side. “That is really sick. ...” 
+
+Hermione and Ginny came hurrying toward them, 
+pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr. 
+
+Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, 
+Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys’ tent, fully 
+dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands 
+out. 
+
+“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr. Weasley 
+shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. 
+“You lot — get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll 
+come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!” 
+
+Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away 
+toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore 
+after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every 
+direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd 
+beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer. 
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+
+
+
+“C’mon,” said Fred, grabbing Ginny’s hand and 
+starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, 
+Hermione, and George followed. They all looked back 
+as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the 
+Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see 
+the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the 
+hooded wizards in the center, but they were having 
+great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared 
+to perform any spell that might make the Roberts 
+family fall. 
+
+The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the 
+stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were 
+blundering through the trees; children were crying; 
+anxious shouts and panicked voices were 
+reverberating around them in the cold night air. 
+
+Harry felt himself being pushed hither and thither by 
+people whose faces he could not see. Then he heard 
+Ron yell with pain. 
+
+“What happened?” said Hermione anxiously, stopping 
+so abruptly that Harry walked into her. “Ron, where 
+are you? Oh this is stupid — lumos\” 
+
+She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow 
+beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the 
+ground. 
+
+“Tripped over a tree root,” he said angrily, getting to 
+his feet again. 
+
+“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” said a drawling 
+voice from behind them. 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco 
+Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a 
+tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he 
+seemed to have been watching the scene at the 
+campsite through a gap in the trees. 
+
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+Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he 
+would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley 
+
+“Language, Weasley,” said Malfoy, his pale eyes 
+glittering. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? 
+You wouldn’t like her spotted, would you?” 
+
+He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a 
+blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a 
+flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around 
+them. 
+
+“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hermione 
+defiantly. 
+
+“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” said Malfoy. “D’you 
+want to be showing off your knickers in midair? 
+Because if you do, hang around ... they’re moving this 
+way, and it would give us all a laugh.” 
+
+“Hermione’s a witch,” Harry snarled. 
+
+“Have it your own way, Potter,” said Malfoy, grinning 
+maliciously. “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, 
+stay where you are.” 
+
+“You watch your mouth!” shouted Ron. Everybody 
+present knew that “Mudblood” was a very offensive 
+term for a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage. 
+
+“Never mind, Ron,” said Hermione quickly, seizing 
+Ron’s arm to restrain him as he took a step toward 
+Malfoy. 
+
+There came a bang from the other side of the trees 
+that was louder than anything they had heard. 
+
+Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled 
+softly. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Scare easily, don’t they?” he said lazily. “I suppose 
+your daddy told you all to hide? What’s he up to — 
+trying to rescue the Muggles?” 
+
+“Where’re your parents?” said Harry, his temper 
+rising. “Out there wearing masks, are they?” 
+
+Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling. 
+
+“Well ... if they were, I wouldn’t be likely to tell you, 
+would I, Potter?” 
+
+“Oh come on,” said Hermione, with a disgusted look 
+at Malfoy, “let’s go and find the others.” 
+
+“Keep that big bushy head down, Granger,” sneered 
+Malfoy. 
+
+“Come on,” Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry 
+and Ron up the path again. 
+
+“I’ll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked 
+lot!” said Ron hotly. 
+
+“Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!” 
+said Hermione fervently. “Oh I can’t believe this. 
+
+Where have the others got to?” 
+
+Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, 
+though the path was packed with plenty of other 
+people, all looking nervously over their shoulders 
+toward the commotion back at the campsite. A huddle 
+of teenagers in pajamas was arguing vociferously a 
+little way along the path. When they saw Harry, Ron, 
+and Hermione, a girl with thick curly hair turned and 
+said quickly, “ Ou est Madame Maxime? Nous Vavons 
+perdue — ” 
+
+“Er — what?” said Ron. 
+
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+
+
+
+“Oh ...” The girl who had spoken turned her back on 
+him, and as they walked on they distinctly heard her 
+say, “ ’Ogwarts.” 
+
+“Beauxbatons,” muttered Hermione. 
+
+“Sorry?” said Harry. 
+
+“They must go to Beauxbatons,” said Hermione. “You 
+know . . . Beauxbatons Academy of Magic ... I read 
+about it in An Appraisal of Magical Education in 
+Europe.” 
+
+“Oh ... yeah ... right,” said Harry. 
+
+“Fred and George can’t have gone that far,” said Ron, 
+pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione’s, and 
+squinting up the path. Harry dug in the pockets of his 
+jacket for his own wand — but it wasn’t there. The 
+only thing he could find was his Omnioculars. 
+
+“Ah, no, I don’t believe it ... I’ve lost my wand!” 
+
+“You’re kidding!” 
+
+Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to 
+spread the narrow beams of light farther on the 
+ground; Harry looked all around him, but his wand 
+was nowhere to be seen. 
+
+“Maybe it’s back in the tent,” said Ron. 
+
+“Maybe it fell out of your pocket when we were 
+running?” Hermione suggested anxiously. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, “maybe ...” 
+
+He usually kept his wand with him at all times in the 
+wizarding world, and finding himself without it in the 
+
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+
+midst of a scene like this made him feel very 
+vulnerable. 
+
+
+
+A rustling noise nearby made all three of them jump. 
+Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a 
+clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most 
+peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it 
+was as though someone invisible were trying to hold 
+her back. 
+
+“There is bad wizards about!” she squeaked 
+distractedly as she leaned forward and labored to 
+keep running. “People high — high in the air! Winky 
+is getting out of the way!” 
+
+And she disappeared into the trees on the other side 
+of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the 
+force that was restraining her. 
+
+“What’s up with her?” said Ron, looking curiously 
+after Winky. “Why can’t she run properly?” 
+
+“Bet she didn’t ask permission to hide,” said Harry. 
+
+He was thinking of Dobby: Every time he had tried to 
+do something the Malfoys wouldn’t like, the house-elf 
+had been forced to start beating himself up. 
+
+“You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!” said 
+Hermione indignantly. “It’s slavery, that’s what it is! 
+That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the 
+stadium, and she was terrified, and he’s got her 
+bewitched so she can’t even run when they start 
+trampling tents! Why doesn’t anyone do something 
+about it?” 
+
+“Well, the elves are happy, aren’t they?” Ron said. 
+
+“You heard old Winky back at the match ... ‘House- 
+elves is not supposed to have fun’ ... that’s what she 
+likes, being bossed around. ...” 
+
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+
+“It’s people like you, Ron,” Hermione began hotly, 
+
+“who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just 
+because they’re too lazy to — ” 
+
+Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood. 
+
+“Let’s just keep moving, shall we?” said Ron, and 
+Harry saw him glance edgily at Hermione. Perhaps 
+there was truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps 
+Hermione was in more danger than they were. They 
+set off again, Harry still searching his pockets, even 
+though he knew his wand wasn’t there. 
+
+They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, 
+still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny. 
+They passed a group of goblins who were cackling 
+over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won 
+betting on the match, and who seemed quite 
+unperturbed by the trouble at the campsite. Farther 
+still along the path, they walked into a patch of silvery 
+light, and when they looked through the trees, they 
+saw three tall and beautiful veela standing in a 
+clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all 
+of whom were talking very loudly. 
+
+“I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a 
+year!” one of them shouted. “I’m a dragon killer for 
+the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous 
+Creatures.” 
+
+“No, you’re not!” yelled his friend. “You’re a 
+dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron. ... but I’m a 
+vampire hunter, I’ve killed about ninety so far — ” 
+
+A third young wizard, whose pimples were visible even 
+by the dim, silvery light of the veela, now cut in, “I’m 
+about to become the youngest ever Minister of Magic, 
+
+I am.” 
+
+
+
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+
+Harry snorted with laughter. He recognized the 
+pimply wizard: His name was Stan Shunpike, and he 
+was in fact a conductor on the triple-decker Knight 
+Bus. He turned to tell Ron this, but Ron’s face had 
+gone oddly slack, and next second Ron was yelling, 
+“Did I tell you I’ve invented a broomstick that’ll reach 
+Jupiter?” 
+
+“Honestly\” said Hermione, and she and Harry 
+grabbed Ron firmly by the arms, wheeled him around, 
+and marched him away. By the time the sounds of 
+the veela and their admirers had faded completely, 
+they were in the very heart of the wood. They seemed 
+to be alone now; everything was much quieter. 
+
+Harry looked around. “I reckon we can just wait here, 
+you know. Well hear anyone coming a mile off.” 
+
+The words were hardly out of his mouth, when Ludo 
+Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of 
+them. 
+
+Even by the feeble light of the two wands, Harry could 
+see that a great change had come over Bagman. He 
+no longer looked buoyant and rosy-faced; there was 
+no more spring in his step. He looked very white and 
+strained. 
+
+“Who’s that?” he said, blinking down at them, trying 
+to make out their faces. “What are you doing in here, 
+all alone?” 
+
+They looked at one another, surprised. 
+
+“Well — there’s a sort of riot going on,” said Ron. 
+Bagman stared at him. 
+
+“What?” 
+
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+
+
+
+“At the campsite . . . some people have got hold of a 
+family of Muggles. ...” 
+
+Bagman swore loudly. 
+
+“Damn them!” he said, looking quite distracted, and 
+without another word, he Disapparated with a small 
+pop\ 
+
+“Not exactly on top of things, Mr. Bagman, is he?” 
+said Hermione, frowning. 
+
+“He was a great Beater, though,” said Ron, leading 
+the way off the path into a small clearing, and sitting 
+down on a patch of dry grass at the foot of a tree. 
+
+“The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in 
+a row while he was with them.” 
+
+He took his small figure of Krum out of his pocket, set 
+it down on the ground, and watched it walk around. 
+Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck- 
+footed and round-shouldered, much less impressive 
+on his splayed feet than on his broomstick. Harry was 
+listening for noise from the campsite. Everything 
+seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over. 
+
+“I hope the others are okay,” said Hermione after a 
+while. 
+
+“They’ll be fine,” said Ron. 
+
+“Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy,” said 
+Harry, sitting down next to Ron and watching the 
+small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. 
+“He’s always said he’d like to get something on him.” 
+
+“That’d wipe the smirk off old Draco’s face, all right,” 
+said Ron. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Those poor Muggles, though,” said Hermione 
+nervously. “What if they can’t get them down?” 
+
+“They will,” said Ron reassuringly. “They’ll find a 
+way.” 
+
+“Mad, though, to do something like that when the 
+whole Ministry of Magic’s out here tonight!” said 
+Hermione. “I mean, how do they expect to get away 
+with it? Do you think they’ve been drinking, or are 
+they just — ” 
+
+But she broke off abruptly and looked over her 
+shoulder. Harry and Ron looked quickly around too. 
+
+It sounded as though someone was staggering toward 
+their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of 
+the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the 
+footsteps came to a sudden halt. 
+
+“Hello?” called Harry. 
+
+There was silence. Harry got to his feet and peered 
+around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but he 
+could sense somebody standing just beyond the range 
+of his vision. 
+
+“Who’s there?” he said. 
+
+And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a 
+voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it 
+uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like 
+a spell. 
+
+“MORSMORDREl ” 
+
+And something vast, green, and glittering erupted 
+from the patch of darkness Harry’s eyes had been 
+struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops 
+and into the sky. 
+
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+
+
+“What the — ?” gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet 
+again, staring up at the thing that had appeared. 
+
+For a split second, Harry thought it was another 
+leprechaun formation. Then he realized that it was a 
+colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald 
+stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a 
+tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, 
+blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against 
+the black sky like a new constellation. 
+
+Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with 
+screams. Harry didn’t understand why, but the only 
+possible cause was the sudden appearance of the 
+skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate 
+the entire wood like some grisly neon sign. He 
+scanned the darkness for the person who had 
+conjured the skull, but he couldn’t see anyone. 
+
+“Who’s there?” he called again. 
+
+“Harry, come on, move\” Hermione had seized the 
+collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward. 
+
+“What’s the matter?” Harry said, startled to see her 
+face so white and terrified. 
+
+“It’s the Dark Mark, Harry!” Hermione moaned, 
+pulling him as hard as she could. “You-Know-Who’s 
+sign!” 
+
+“Voldemort’s — ?” 
+
+“Harry, come on!” 
+
+Harry turned — Ron was hurriedly scooping up his 
+miniature Krum — the three of them started across 
+the clearing — but before they had taken a few 
+hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced 
+
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+
+
+the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, 
+surrounding them. 
+
+Harry whirled around, and in an instant, he 
+registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his 
+wand out, and every wand was pointing right at 
+himself, Ron, and Hermione. 
+
+Without pausing to think, he yelled, “DUCK!” 
+
+He seized the other two and pulled them down onto 
+the ground. 
+
+“STUPEFYl” roared twenty voices — there was a 
+blinding series of flashes and Harry felt the hair on 
+his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept 
+the clearing. Raising his head a fraction of an inch he 
+saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the 
+wizards’ wands, crossing one another, bouncing off 
+tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness — 
+
+“Stop!” yelled a voice he recognized. “STOP! That’s my 
+son\” 
+
+Harry’s hair stopped blowing about. He raised his 
+head a little higher. The wizard in front of him had 
+lowered his wand. He rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley 
+striding toward them, looking terrified. 
+
+“Ron — Harry” — his voice sounded shaky — 
+“Hermione — are you all right?” 
+
+“Out of the way, Arthur,” said a cold, curt voice. 
+
+It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards 
+were closing in on them. Harry got to his feet to face 
+them. Mr. Crouch’s face was taut with rage. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Which of you did it?” he snapped, his sharp eyes 
+darting between them. “Which of you conjured the 
+Dark Mark?” 
+
+“We didn’t do that!” said Harry, gesturing up at the 
+skull. 
+
+“We didn’t do anything!” said Ron, who was rubbing 
+his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. “What 
+did you want to attack us for?” 
+
+“Do not lie, sir!” shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was 
+still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were 
+popping — he looked slightly mad. “You have been 
+discovered at the scene of the crime!” 
+
+“Barty,” whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing 
+gown, “they’re kids, Barty, they’d never have been 
+able to — ” 
+
+“Where did the Mark come from, you three?” said Mr. 
+Weasley quickly. 
+
+“Over there,” said Hermione shakily, pointing at the 
+place where they had heard the voice. “There was 
+someone behind the trees . . . they shouted words — 
+an incantation — ” 
+
+“Oh, stood over there, did they?” said Mr. Crouch, 
+turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief 
+etched all over his face. “Said an incantation, did 
+they? You seem very well informed about how that 
+Mark is summoned, missy — ” 
+
+But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. 
+Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, 
+Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull; on the 
+contrary, at Hermione’s words, they had all raised 
+
+
+
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+their wands again and were pointing in the direction 
+she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees. 
+
+“We’re too late,” said the witch in the woolen dressing 
+gown, shaking her head. “They’ll have Disapparated.” 
+
+“I don’t think so,” said a wizard with a scrubby brown 
+beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric’s father. “Our 
+Stunners went right through those trees. ... There’s a 
+good chance we got them. ...” 
+
+“Amos, be careful!” said a few of the wizards 
+warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, 
+raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and 
+disappeared into the darkness. Hermione watched 
+him vanish with her hands over her mouth. 
+
+A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout. 
+
+“Yes! We got them! There’s someone here! 
+Unconscious! It’s — but — blimey ...” 
+
+“You’ve got someone?” shouted Mr. Crouch, sounding 
+highly disbelieving. “Who? Who is it?” 
+
+They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and 
+then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged 
+from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp 
+figure in his arms. Harry recognized the tea towel at 
+once. It was Winky. 
+
+Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory 
+deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other 
+Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a 
+few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes 
+blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. 
+Then he appeared to come to life again. 
+
+“This — cannot — be,” he said jerkily. “No — ” 
+
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+
+He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode off 
+toward the place where he had found Winky. 
+
+
+
+“No point, Mr. Crouch,” Mr. Diggory called after him. 
+“There’s no one else there.” 
+
+But Mr. Crouch did not seem prepared to take his 
+word for it. They could hear him moving around and 
+the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, 
+searching. 
+
+“Bit embarrassing,” Mr. Diggory said grimly, looking 
+down at Winky’s unconscious form. “Barty Crouch’s 
+house-elf ... I mean to say ...” 
+
+“Come off it, Amos,” said Mr. Weasley quietly, “you 
+don’t seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark’s a 
+wizard’s sign. It requires a wand.” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Mr. Diggory, “and she had a wand.” 
+
+“What?” said Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“Here, look.” Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed 
+it to Mr. Weasley. “Had it in her hand. So that’s 
+clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a 
+start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or 
+use a wand.” 
+
+Just then there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman 
+Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. Looking 
+breathless and disorientated, he spun on the spot, 
+goggling upward at the emerald-green skull. 
+
+“The Dark Mark!” he panted, almost trampling Winky 
+as he turned inquiringly to his colleagues. “Who did 
+it? Did you get them? Barty! What’s going on?” 
+
+
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+Mr. Crouch had returned empty-handed. His face was 
+still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush 
+mustache were both twitching. 
+
+“Where have you been, Barty?” said Bagman. “Why 
+weren’t you at the match? Your elf was saving you a 
+seat too — gulping gargoyles!” Bagman had just 
+noticed Winky lying at his feet. “What happened to 
+her?” 
+
+“I have been busy, Ludo,” said Mr. Crouch, still 
+talking in the same jerky fashion, barely moving his 
+lips. “And my elf has been stunned.” 
+
+“Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why — ?” 
+
+Comprehension dawned suddenly on Bagman’s 
+round, shiny face; he looked up at the skull, down at 
+Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch. 
+
+“iVo!” he said. “Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She 
+wouldn’t know how! She’d need a wand, for a start!” 
+
+“And she had one,” said Mr. Diggory. “I found her 
+holding one, Ludo. If it’s all right with you, Mr. 
+
+Crouch, I think we should hear what she’s got to say 
+for herself.” 
+
+Crouch gave no sign that he had heard Mr. Diggory, 
+but Mr. Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent. 
+He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and 
+said, “Rennervatel” 
+
+Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened 
+and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of 
+way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself 
+shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr. 
+Diggory’s feet, and slowly, tremulously, raised her 
+eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, 
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+she looked up into the sky. Harry could see the 
+floating skull reflected twice in her enormous, glassy 
+eyes. She gave a gasp, looked wildly around the 
+crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs. 
+
+“Elf!” said Mr. Diggory sternly. “Do you know who I 
+am? I’m a member of the Department for the 
+Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!” 
+
+Winky began to rock backward and forward on the 
+ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Harry 
+was reminded forcibly of Dobby in his moments of 
+terrified disobedience. 
+
+“As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a 
+short while ago,” said Mr. Diggory. “And you were 
+discovered moments later, right beneath it! An 
+explanation, if you please!” 
+
+“I — I — I is not doing it, sir!” Winky gasped. “I is not 
+knowing how, sir!” 
+
+“You were found with a wand in your hand!” barked 
+Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her. And as the 
+wand caught the green light that was filling the 
+clearing from the skull above, Harry recognized it. 
+
+“Hey — that’s mine!” he said. 
+
+Everyone in the clearing looked at him. 
+
+“Excuse me?” said Mr. Diggory, incredulously. 
+
+“That’s my wand!” said Harry. “I dropped it!” 
+
+“You dropped it?” repeated Mr. Diggory in disbelief. 
+
+“Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you 
+conjured the Mark?” 
+
+
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+
+“Amos, think who you’re talking to!” said Mr. Weasley, 
+very angrily. “Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the 
+Dark Mark?” 
+
+“Er — of course not,” mumbled Mr. Diggory. “Sorry ... 
+carried away ...” 
+
+“I didn’t drop it there, anyway,” said Harry, jerking 
+his thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. “I 
+missed it right after we got into the wood.” 
+
+“So,” said Mr. Diggory, his eyes hardening as he 
+turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. 
+“You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up 
+and thought you’d have some fun with it, did you?” 
+
+“I is not doing magic with it, sir!” squealed Winky, 
+tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and 
+bulbous nose. “I is ... I is ... I is just picking it up, sir! 
+
+I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing 
+how!” 
+
+“It wasn’t her!” said Hermione. She looked very 
+nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry 
+wizards, yet determined all the same. “Winky’s got a 
+squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the 
+incantation was much deeper!” She looked around at 
+Harry and Ron, appealing for their support. “It didn’t 
+sound anything like Winky, did it?” 
+
+“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It definitely didn’t 
+sound like an elf.” 
+
+“Yeah, it was a human voice,” said Ron. 
+
+“Well, we’ll soon see,” growled Mr. Diggory, looking 
+unimpressed. “There’s a simple way of discovering the 
+last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?” 
+
+
+
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+
+Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her 
+ears flapping, as Mr. Diggory raised his own wand 
+again and placed it tip to tip with Harry’s. 
+
+“ Prior Incantatol” roared Mr. Diggory. 
+
+Harry heard Hermione gasp, horrified, as a gigantic 
+serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where 
+the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the 
+green skull high above them; it looked as though it 
+were made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell. 
+
+“Deletrius\” Mr. Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull 
+vanished in a wisp of smoke. 
+
+“So,” said Mr. Diggory with a kind of savage triumph, 
+looking down upon Winky, who was still shaking 
+convulsively. 
+
+“I is not doing it!” she squealed, her eyes rolling in 
+terror. “I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a 
+good elf, I isn’t using wands, I isn’t knowing how!” 
+
+“ You’ve been caught red-handed, elf.” Mr. Diggory 
+roared. “Caught with the guilty wand in your hand\” 
+
+“Amos,” said Mr. Weasley loudly, “think about it ... 
+precious few wizards know how to do that spell. ... 
+Where would she have learned it?” 
+
+“Perhaps Amos is suggesting,” said Mr. Crouch, cold 
+anger in every syllable, “that I routinely teach my 
+servants to conjure the Dark Mark?” 
+
+There was a deeply unpleasant silence. Amos Diggory 
+looked horrified. “Mr. Crouch ... not ... not at all ...” 
+
+“You have now come very close to accusing the two 
+people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure 
+
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+
+
+
+that Mark!” barked Mr. Crouch. “Harry Potter — and 
+myself! I suppose you are familiar with the boy’s 
+story, Amos?” 
+
+“Of course — everyone knows — ” muttered Mr. 
+Diggory, looking highly discomforted. 
+
+“And I trust you remember the many proofs I have 
+given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the 
+Dark Arts and those who practice them?” Mr. Crouch 
+shouted, his eyes bulging again. 
+
+“Mr. Crouch, I — I never suggested you had anything 
+to do with it!” Amos Diggory muttered again, now 
+reddening behind his scrubby brown beard. 
+
+“If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!” 
+shouted Mr. Crouch. “Where else would she have 
+learned to conjure it?” 
+
+“She — she might’ve picked it up anywhere — ” 
+
+“Precisely, Amos,” said Mr. Weasley. “ She might have 
+picked it up anywhere. ... Winky?” he said kindly, 
+turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he too 
+was shouting at her. “Where exactly did you find 
+Harry’s wand?” 
+
+Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so 
+violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers. 
+
+“I — I is finding it ... finding it there, sir. ...” she 
+whispered, “there ... in the trees, sir. ...” 
+
+“You see, Amos?” said Mr. Weasley. “Whoever 
+conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right 
+after they’d done it, leaving Harry’s wand behind. A 
+clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which 
+could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the 
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+
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+
+misfortune to come across the wand moments later 
+and pick it up.” 
+
+“But then, she’d have been only a few feet away from 
+the real culprit!” said Mr. Diggory impatiently. “Elf? 
+Did you see anyone?” 
+
+Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant 
+eyes flickered from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, and 
+onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, “I is 
+seeing no one, sir ... no one ...” 
+
+“Amos,” said Mr. Crouch curtly, “I am fully aware 
+that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want 
+to take Winky into your department for questioning. I 
+ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her.” 
+
+Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn’t think much of 
+this suggestion at all, but it was clear to Harry that 
+Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the 
+Ministry that he did not dare refuse him. 
+
+“You may rest assured that she will be punished,” Mr. 
+Crouch added coldly. 
+
+“M-m-master ...” Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. 
+Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. “M-m-master, 
+p-p-please ...” 
+
+Mr. Crouch stared back, his face somehow 
+sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. 
+There was no pity in his gaze. 
+
+“Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not 
+have believed possible,” he said slowly. “I told her to 
+remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I 
+went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she 
+disobeyed me. This means clothes.” 
+
+
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+
+“No!” shrieked Winky, prostrating herself at Mr. 
+Crouch’s feet. “No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!” 
+
+Harry knew that the only way to turn a house-elf free 
+was to present it with proper garments. It was pitiful 
+to see the way Winky clutched at her tea towel as she 
+sobbed over Mr. Crouch’s feet. 
+
+“But she was frightened!” Hermione burst out angrily, 
+glaring at Mr. Crouch. “Your elf’s scared of heights, 
+and those wizards in masks were levitating people! 
+
+You can’t blame her for wanting to get out of their 
+way!” 
+
+Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself 
+from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as 
+though she were something filthy and rotten that was 
+contaminating his over-shined shoes. 
+
+“I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me,” he 
+said coldly, looking over at Hermione. “I have no use 
+for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, 
+and to her master’s reputation.” 
+
+Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed 
+around the clearing. There was a very nasty silence, 
+which was ended by Mr. Weasley, who said quietly, 
+“Well, I think I’ll take my lot back to the tent, if 
+nobody’s got any objections. Amos, that wand’s told 
+us all it can — if Harry could have it back, please — ” 
+
+Mr. Diggory handed Harry his wand and Harry 
+pocketed it. 
+
+“Come on, you three,” Mr. Weasley said quietly. But 
+Hermione didn’t seem to want to move; her eyes were 
+still upon the sobbing elf. “Hermione!” Mr. Weasley 
+said, more urgently. She turned and followed Harry 
+and Ron out of the clearing and off through the trees. 
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+
+
+
+“What’s going to happen to Winky?” said Hermione, 
+the moment they had left the clearing. 
+
+“I don’t know,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+
+“The way they were treating her!” said Hermione 
+furiously. “Mr. Diggory, calling her ‘elf’ all the time ... 
+and Mr. Crouch! He knows she didn’t do it and he’s 
+still going to sack her! He didn’t care how frightened 
+she’d been, or how upset she was — it was like she 
+wasn’t even human!” 
+
+“Well, she’s not,” said Ron. 
+
+Hermione rounded on him. 
+
+“That doesn’t mean she hasn’t got feelings, Ron. It’s 
+disgusting the way — ” 
+
+“Hermione, I agree with you,” said Mr. Weasley 
+quickly, beckoning her on, “but now is not the time to 
+discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as 
+fast as we can. What happened to the others?” 
+
+“We lost them in the dark,” said Ron. “Dad, why was 
+everyone so uptight about that skull thing?” 
+
+“I’ll explain everything back at the tent,” said Mr. 
+Weasley tensely. 
+
+But when they reached the edge of the wood, their 
+progress was impeded. A large crowd of frightened- 
+looking witches and wizards was congregated there, 
+and when they saw Mr. Weasley coming toward them, 
+many of them surged forward. 
+
+“What’s going on in there?” 
+
+“Who conjured it?” 
+
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+
+
+
+“Arthur — it’s not — Him?” 
+
+
+
+“Of course it’s not Him,” said Mr. Weasley 
+impatiently. “We don’t know who it was; it looks like 
+they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please, I want to 
+get to bed.” 
+
+He led Harry, Ron, and Hermione through the crowd 
+and back into the campsite. All was quiet now; there 
+was no sign of the masked wizards, though several 
+ruined tents were still smoking. 
+
+Charlie’s head was poking out of the boys’ tent. 
+
+“Dad, what’s going on?” he called through the dark. 
+“Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the 
+others — ” 
+
+“I’ve got them here,” said Mr. Weasley, bending down 
+and entering the tent. Harry, Ron, and Hermione 
+entered after him. 
+
+Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a 
+bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. 
+Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was 
+sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny 
+looked unhurt, though shaken. 
+
+“Did you get them, Dad?” said Bill sharply. “The 
+person who conjured the Mark?” 
+
+“No,” said Mr. Weasley. “We found Barty Crouch’s elf 
+holding Harry’s wand, but we’re none the wiser about 
+who actually conjured the Mark.” 
+
+“What?” said Bill, Charlie, and Percy together. 
+
+“Harry’s wand?” said Fred. 
+
+
+
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+“Mr. Crouch’s elf?” said Percy, sounding 
+thunderstruck. 
+
+With some assistance from Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione, Mr. Weasley explained what had happened 
+in the woods. When they had finished their story, 
+Percy swelled indignantly. 
+
+“Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like 
+that!” he said. “Running away when he’d expressly 
+told her not to ... embarrassing him in front of the 
+whole Ministry . . . how would that have looked, if 
+she’d been brought up in front of the Department for 
+the Regulation and Control — ” 
+
+“She didn’t do anything — she was just in the wrong 
+place at the wrong time!” Hermione snapped at Percy, 
+who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always 
+got on fairly well with Percy — better, indeed, than 
+any of the others. 
+
+“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t 
+afford a house-elf who’s going to run amok with a 
+wand!” said Percy pompously, recovering himself. 
+
+“She didn’t run amok!” shouted Hermione. “She just 
+picked it up off the ground!” 
+
+“Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing 
+was?” said Ron impatiently. “It wasn’t hurting 
+anyone. ... Why’s it such a big deal?” 
+
+“I told you, it’s You-Know-Who’s symbol, Ron,” said 
+Hermione, before anyone else could answer. “I read 
+about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.” 
+
+“And it hasn’t been seen for thirteen years,” said Mr. 
+Weasley quietly. “Of course people panicked ... it was 
+almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again.” 
+
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+
+“I don’t get it,” said Ron, frowning. “I mean ... it’s still 
+only a shape in the sky. ...” 
+
+“Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark 
+Mark into the air whenever they killed,” said Mr. 
+Weasley. “The terror it inspired ... you have no idea, 
+you’re too young. Just picture coming home and 
+finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and 
+knowing what you’re about to find inside. ...” Mr. 
+Weasley winced. “Everyone’s worst fear ... the very 
+worst ...” 
+
+There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing 
+the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, 
+
+“Well, it didn’t help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It 
+scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw 
+it. They all Disapparated before we’d got near enough 
+to unmask any of them. We caught the Robertses 
+before they hit the ground, though. They’re having 
+their memories modified right now.” 
+
+“Death Eaters?” said Harry. “What are Death Eaters?” 
+
+“It’s what You-Know- Who’s supporters called 
+themselves,” said Bill. “I think we saw what’s left of 
+them tonight — the ones who managed to keep 
+themselves out of Azkaban, anyway.” 
+
+“We can’t prove it was them, Bill,” said Mr. Weasley. 
+“Though it probably was,” he added hopelessly. 
+
+“Yeah, I bet it was!” said Ron suddenly. “Dad, we met 
+Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us 
+his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all 
+know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!” 
+
+“But what were Voldemort’s supporters — ” Harry 
+began. Everybody flinched — like most of the 
+wizarding world, the Weasleys always avoided saying 
+
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+
+Voldemort’s name. “Sorry,” said Harry quickly. “What 
+were You -Know- Who’s supporters up to, levitating 
+Muggles? I mean, what was the point?” 
+
+“The point?” said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. 
+“Harry, that’s their idea of fun. Half the Muggle 
+killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were 
+done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight 
+and couldn’t resist reminding us all that lots of them 
+are still at large. A nice little reunion for them,” he 
+finished disgustedly. 
+
+“But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they 
+Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?” said 
+Ron. “They’d have been pleased to see it, wouldn’t 
+they?” 
+
+“Use your brains, Ron,” said Bill. “If they really were 
+Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of 
+Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all 
+sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture 
+people. I bet they’d be even more frightened than the 
+rest of us to see him come back. They denied they’d 
+ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, 
+and went back to their daily lives. ... I don’t reckon 
+he’d be over-pleased with them, do you?” 
+
+“So ... whoever conjured the Dark Mark ...” said 
+Hermione slowly, “were they doing it to show support 
+for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?” 
+
+“Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione,” said Mr. 
+Weasley. “But I’ll tell you this ... it was only the Death 
+Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I’d be very 
+surprised if the person who did it hadn’t been a Death 
+Eater once, even if they’re not now. ... Listen, it’s very 
+late, and if your mother hears what’s happened she’ll 
+be worried sick. We’ll get a few more hours sleep and 
+then try and get an early Portkey out of here.” 
+
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+
+
+Harry got back into his bunk with his head buzzing. 
+He knew he ought to feel exhausted: It was nearly 
+three in the morning, but he felt wide-awake — wide- 
+awake, and worried. 
+
+Three days ago — it felt like much longer, but it had 
+only been three days — he had awoken with his scar 
+burning. And tonight, for the first time in thirteen 
+years, Lord Voldemort’s mark had appeared in the 
+sky. What did these things mean? 
+
+He thought of the letter he had written to Sirius 
+before leaving Privet Drive. Would Sirius have gotten 
+it yet? When would he reply? Harry lay looking up at 
+the canvas, but no flying fantasies came to him now 
+to ease him to sleep, and it was a long time after 
+Charlie’s snores filled the tent that Harry finally dozed 
+off. 
+
+
+
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+
+
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+
+MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY 
+
+Mr. Weasley woke them after only a few hours sleep. 
+He used magic to pack up the tents, and they left the 
+campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts 
+at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, 
+dazed look about him, and he waved them off with a 
+vague “Merry Christmas.” 
+
+“Hell be all right,” said Mr. Weasley quietly as they 
+marched off onto the moor. “Sometimes, when a 
+person’s memory’s modified, it makes him a bit 
+disorientated for a while . . . and that was a big thing 
+they had to make him forget.” 
+
+They heard urgent voices as they approached the spot 
+where the Portkeys lay, and when they reached it, 
+they found a great number of witches and wizards 
+gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all 
+clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as 
+possible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with 
+Basil; they joined the queue, and were able to take an 
+old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun 
+had really risen. They walked back through Ottery St. 
+Page | 160 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow 
+in the dawn light, talking very little because they were 
+so exhausted, and thinking longingly of their 
+breakfast. As they rounded the corner and the 
+Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane. 
+
+“Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!” 
+
+Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for 
+them in the front yard, came running toward them, 
+still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and 
+strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet 
+clutched in her hand. 
+
+“Arthur — I’ve been so worried — so worried — ” 
+
+She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley’s neck, and 
+the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the 
+ground. Looking down, Harry saw the headline: 
+SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD 
+CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white 
+photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops. 
+
+“You’re all right,” Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, 
+releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them all 
+with red eyes, “you’re alive. ... Oh boys ...” 
+
+And to everybody’s surprise, she seized Fred and 
+George and pulled them both into such a tight hug 
+that their heads banged together. 
+
+“ Ouch\ Mum — you’re strangling us — ” 
+
+“I shouted at you before you left!” Mrs. Weasley said, 
+starting to sob. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about! What 
+if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I 
+ever said to you was that you didn’t get enough 
+O.W.L.s? Oh Fred ... George ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Come on, now, Molly, we’re all perfectly okay,” said 
+Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and 
+leading her back toward the house. “Bill,” he added in 
+an undertone, “pick up that paper, I want to see what 
+it says. ...” 
+
+When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, 
+and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very 
+strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on 
+pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill 
+handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley 
+scanned the front page while Percy looked over his 
+shoulder. 
+
+“I knew it,” said Mr. Weasley heavily. “Ministry 
+blunders ... culprits not apprehended ... lax security ... 
+Dark wizards running unchecked . . . national disgrace 
+... Who wrote this? Ah ... of course ... Rita Skeeter.” 
+
+“That woman’s got it in for the Ministry of Magic!” 
+said Percy furiously. “Last week she was saying we’re 
+wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, 
+when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it 
+wasn’t specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the 
+Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part- 
+Humans — ” 
+
+“Do us a favor, Perce,” said Bill, yawning, “and shut 
+up.” 
+
+“I’m mentioned,” said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening 
+behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the 
+Daily Prophet article. 
+
+“Where?” spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea 
+and whiskey. “If I’d seen that, I’d have known you 
+were alive!” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Not by name,” said Mr. Weasley. “Listen to this: ‘If 
+the terrified wizards and witches who waited 
+breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected 
+reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were 
+sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some 
+time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging 
+that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any 
+more information. Whether this statement will be 
+enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were 
+removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be 
+seen.’ Oh really,” said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, 
+handing the paper to Percy. “Nobody was hurt. What 
+was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies 
+were removed from the woods ... well, there certainly 
+will be rumors now she’s printed that.” 
+
+He heaved a deep sigh. “Molly, I’m going to have to go 
+into the office; this is going to take some smoothing 
+over.” 
+
+“I’ll come with you, Father,” said Percy importantly. 
+“Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can 
+give him my cauldron report in person.” 
+
+He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked 
+most upset. 
+
+“Arthur, you’re supposed to be on holiday! This hasn’t 
+got anything to do with your office; surely they can 
+handle this without you?” 
+
+“I’ve got to go, Molly,” said Mr. Weasley. “I’ve made 
+things worse. I’ll just change into my robes and I’ll be 
+off. ...” 
+
+“Mrs. Weasley,” said Harry suddenly, unable to 
+contain himself, “Hedwig hasn’t arrived with a letter 
+for me, has she?” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Hedwig, dear?” said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. “No ... 
+no, there hasn’t been any post at all.” 
+
+Ron and Hermione looked curiously at Harry. With a 
+meaningful look at both of them he said, “All right if I 
+go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?” 
+
+“Yeah ... think I will too,” said Ron at once. 
+“Hermione?” 
+
+“Yes,” she said quickly, and the three of them 
+marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 
+
+“What’s up, Harry?” said Ron, the moment they had 
+closed the door of the attic room behind them. 
+
+“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Harry said. 
+
+“On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar 
+hurting again.” 
+
+Ron’s and Hermione’s reactions were almost exactly 
+as Harry had imagined them back in his bedroom on 
+Privet Drive. Hermione gasped and started making 
+suggestions at once, mentioning a number of 
+reference books, and everybody from Albus 
+Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. 
+Ron simply looked dumbstruck. 
+
+“But — he wasn’t there, was he? You-Know-Who? I 
+mean — last time your scar kept hurting, he was at 
+Hogwarts, wasn’t he?” 
+
+“I’m sure he wasn’t on Privet Drive,” said Harry. “But I 
+was dreaming about him . . . him and Peter — you 
+know, Wormtail. I can’t remember all of it now, but 
+they were plotting to kill ... someone.” 
+
+
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+
+He had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying 
+“me,” but couldn’t bring himself to make Hermione 
+look any more horrified than she already did. 
+
+“It was only a dream,” said Ron bracingly. “Just a 
+nightmare.” 
+
+“Yeah, but was it, though?” said Harry, turning to 
+look out of the window at the brightening sky. “It’s 
+weird, isn’t it? ... My scar hurts, and three days later 
+the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort’s 
+sign’s up in the sky again.” 
+
+“Don’t — say — his — name!” Ron hissed through 
+gritted teeth. 
+
+“And remember what Professor Trelawney said?” 
+
+Harry went on, ignoring Ron. “At the end of last 
+year?” 
+
+Professor Trelawney was their Divination teacher at 
+Hogwarts. Hermione ’s terrified look vanished as she 
+let out a derisive snort. 
+
+“Oh Harry, you aren’t going to pay attention to 
+anything that old fraud says?” 
+
+“You weren’t there,” said Harry. “You didn’t hear her. 
+This time was different. I told you, she went into a 
+trance — a real one. And she said the Dark Lord 
+would rise again . . . greater and more terrible than ever 
+before ... and he’d manage it because his servant was 
+going to go back to him ... and that night Wormtail 
+escaped.” 
+
+There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted 
+absentmindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons 
+bedspread. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?” 
+Hermione asked. “Are you expecting a letter?” 
+
+“I told Sirius about my scar,” said Harry, shrugging. 
+“I’m waiting for his answer.” 
+
+“Good thinking!” said Ron, his expression clearing. “I 
+bet Sirius ’ll know what to do!” 
+
+“I hoped he’d get back to me quickly,” said Harry. 
+
+“But we don’t know where Sirius is ... he could be in 
+Africa or somewhere, couldn’t he?” said Hermione 
+reasonably. “Hedwig’s not going to manage that 
+journey in a few days.” 
+
+“Yeah, I know,” said Harry, but there was a leaden 
+feeling in his stomach as he looked out of the window 
+at the Hedwig-free sky. 
+
+“Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, 
+Harry,” said Ron. “Come on — three on three, Bill and 
+Charlie and Fred and George will play. ... You can try 
+out the Wronski Feint. ...” 
+
+“Ron,” said Hermione, in an I-don’t-think-you’re- 
+being- very- sensitive sort of voice, “Harry doesn’t want 
+to play Quidditch right now. ... He’s worried, and he’s 
+tired. ... We all need to go to bed. ...” 
+
+“Yeah, I want to play Quidditch,” said Harry 
+suddenly. “Hang on, I’ll get my Firebolt.” 
+
+Hermione left the room, muttering something that 
+sounded very much like “Boys.” 
+
+k k k 
+
+
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+
+Neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy was at home much 
+over the following week. Both left the house each 
+morning before the rest of the family got up, and 
+returned well after dinner every night. 
+
+“It’s been an absolute uproar,” Percy told them 
+importantly the Sunday evening before they were due 
+to return to Hogwarts. “I’ve been putting out fires all 
+week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if 
+you don’t open a Howler straight away, it explodes. 
+Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill 
+reduced to cinders.” 
+
+“Why are they all sending Howlers?” asked Ginny, 
+who was mending her copy of One Thousand Magical 
+Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape on the rug in front of 
+the living room fire. 
+
+“Complaining about security at the World Cup,” said 
+Percy. “They want compensation for their ruined 
+property. Mundungus Fletcher’s put in a claim for a 
+twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite Jacuzzi, but I’ve 
+got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping 
+under a cloak propped on sticks.” 
+
+Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the 
+corner. Harry liked this clock. It was completely 
+useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise 
+very informative. It had nine golden hands, and each 
+of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family’s 
+names. There were no numerals around the face, but 
+descriptions of where each family member might be. 
+“Home,” “school,” and “work” were there, but there 
+was also “traveling,” “lost,” “hospital,” “prison,” and, 
+in the position where the number twelve would be on 
+a normal clock, “mortal peril.” 
+
+Eight of the hands were currently pointing to the 
+“home” position, but Mr. Weasley’s, which was the 
+
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+
+
+
+
+longest, was still pointing to “work.” Mrs. Weasley 
+sighed. 
+
+
+
+“Your father hasn’t had to go into the office on 
+weekends since the days of You-Know-Who,” she said. 
+“They’re working him far too hard. His dinner’s going 
+to be mined if he doesn’t come home soon.” 
+
+“Well, Father feels he’s got to make up for his mistake 
+at the match, doesn’t he?” said Percy. “If truth be 
+told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement 
+without clearing it with his Head of Department first 
+
+
+
+“Don’t you dare blame your father for what that 
+wretched Skeeter woman wrote!” said Mrs. Weasley, 
+flaring up at once. 
+
+“If Dad hadn’t said anything, old Rita would just have 
+said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry 
+had commented,” said Bill, who was playing chess 
+with Ron. “Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look 
+good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts’ 
+Charm Breakers once, and called me ‘a long-haired 
+pillock’?” 
+
+“Well, it is a bit long, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley gently. 
+“If you’d just let me — ” 
+
+“No, Mum.” 
+
+Rain lashed against the living room window. 
+
+Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of 
+Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs. Weasley had 
+bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley. 
+Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was 
+polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit 
+Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday 
+open at his feet. Fred and George were sitting in a far 
+Page | 168 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads 
+bent over a piece of parchment. 
+
+“What are you two up to?” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, 
+her eyes on the twins. 
+
+“Homework,” said Fred vaguely. 
+
+“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re still on holiday,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley. 
+
+“Yeah, we’ve left it a bit late,” said George. 
+
+“You’re not by any chance writing out a new order 
+form, are you?” said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. “You 
+wouldn’t be thinking of restarting Weasleys’ Wizard 
+Wheezes, by any chance?” 
+
+“Now, Mum,” said Fred, looking up at her, a pained 
+look on his face. “If the Hogwarts Express crashed 
+tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel 
+to know that the last thing we ever heard from you 
+was an unfounded accusation?” 
+
+Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley. 
+
+“Oh your father’s coming!” she said suddenly, looking 
+up at the clock again. 
+
+Mr. Weasley’s hand had suddenly spun from “work” 
+to “traveling”; a second later it had shuddered to a 
+halt on “home” with the others, and they heard him 
+calling from the kitchen. 
+
+“Coming, Arthur!” called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out 
+of the room. 
+
+
+
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+
+A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the 
+warm living room carrying his dinner on a tray. He 
+looked completely exhausted. 
+
+“Well, the fat’s really in the fire now,” he told Mrs. 
+Weasley as he sat down in an armchair near the 
+hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his 
+somewhat shriveled cauliflower. “Rita Skeeter’s been 
+ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry 
+mess-ups to report. And now she’s found out about 
+poor old Bertha going missing, so that’ll be the 
+headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he 
+should have sent someone to look for her ages ago.” 
+
+“Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks,” 
+said Percy swiftly. 
+
+“Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn’t found out about 
+Winky,” said Mr. Weasley irritably. “There’d be a 
+week’s worth of headlines in his house-elf being 
+caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark 
+Mark.” 
+
+“I thought we were all agreed that that elf, while 
+irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?” said Percy 
+hotly. 
+
+“If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the 
+Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to elves!” said 
+Hermione angrily. 
+
+“Now look here, Hermione!” said Percy. “A high- 
+ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves 
+unswerving obedience from his servants — ” 
+
+“His slave, you mean!” said Hermione, her voice rising 
+passionately, “because he didn’t pay Winky, did he?” 
+
+
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+
+“I think you’d all better go upstairs and check that 
+you’ve packed properly!” said Mrs. Weasley, breaking 
+up the argument. “Come on now, all of you. ...” 
+
+Harry repacked his broomstick servicing kit, put his 
+Firebolt over his shoulder, and went back upstairs 
+with Ron. The rain sounded even louder at the top of 
+the house, accompanied by loud whistlings and 
+moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic howls 
+from the ghoul who lived in the attic. Pigwidgeon 
+began twittering and zooming around his cage when 
+they entered. The sight of the half-packed trunks 
+seemed to have sent him into a frenzy of excitement. 
+
+“Bung him some Owl Treats,” said Ron, throwing a 
+packet across to Harry. “It might shut him up.” 
+
+Harry poked a few Owl Treats through the bars of 
+Pigwidgeon’s cage, then turned to his trunk. Hedwig’s 
+cage stood next to it, still empty. 
+
+“It’s been over a week,” Harry said, looking at 
+Hedwig’s deserted perch. “Ron, you don’t reckon 
+Sirius has been caught, do you?” 
+
+“Nah, it would’ve been in the Daily Prophet,” said Ron. 
+“The Ministry would want to show they’d caught 
+someone, wouldn’t they?” 
+
+“Yeah, I suppose. ...” 
+
+“Look, here’s the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon 
+Alley. And she’s got some gold out of your vault for 
+you ... and she’s washed all your socks.” 
+
+He heaved a pile of parcels onto Harry’s camp bed 
+and dropped the money bag and a load of socks next 
+to it. Harry started unwrapping the shopping. Apart 
+from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, by 
+
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+
+
+
+
+Miranda Goshawk, he had a handful of new quills, a 
+dozen rolls of parchment, and refills for his potion- 
+making kit — he had been running low on spine of 
+lionfish and essence of belladonna. He was just piling 
+underwear into his cauldron when Ron made a loud 
+noise of disgust behind him. 
+
+“What is that supposed to be?” 
+
+He was holding up something that looked to Harry 
+like a long, maroon velvet dress. It had a moldy- 
+looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs. 
+
+There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley 
+entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered 
+Hogwarts robes. 
+
+“Here you are,” she said, sorting them into two piles. 
+“Now, mind you pack them properly so they don’t 
+crease.” 
+
+“Mum, you’ve given me Ginny’s new dress,” said Ron, 
+handing it out to her. 
+
+“Of course I haven’t,” said Mrs. Weasley. “That’s for 
+you. Dress robes.” 
+
+“What?” said Ron, looking horror-struck. 
+
+“Dress robes!” repeated Mrs. Weasley. “It says on your 
+school list that you’re supposed to have dress robes 
+this year ... robes for formal occasions.” 
+
+“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Ron in disbelief. “I’m 
+not wearing that, no way.” 
+
+“Everyone wears them, Ron!” said Mrs. Weasley 
+crossly. “They’re all like that! Your father’s got some 
+for smart parties!” 
+
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+
+“I’ll go starkers before I put that on,” said Ron 
+stubbornly. 
+
+“Don’t be so silly,” said Mrs. Weasley. “You’ve got to 
+have dress robes, they’re on your list! I got some for 
+Harry too ... show him, Harry. ...” 
+
+In some trepidation, Harry opened the last parcel on 
+his camp bed. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected, 
+however; his dress robes didn’t have any lace on them 
+at all — in fact, they were more or less the same as 
+his school ones, except that they were bottle green 
+instead of black. 
+
+“I thought they’d bring out the color of your eyes, 
+dear,” said Mrs. Weasley fondly. 
+
+“Well, they’re okay!” said Ron angrily, looking at 
+Harry’s robes. “Why couldn’t I have some like that?” 
+
+“Because ... well, I had to get yours secondhand, and 
+there wasn’t a lot of choice!” said Mrs. Weasley, 
+flushing. 
+
+Harry looked away. He would willingly have split all 
+the money in his Gringotts vault with the Weasleys, 
+but he knew they would never take it. 
+
+“I’m never wearing them,” Ron was saying stubbornly. 
+“Never.” 
+
+“Fine,” snapped Mrs. Weasley. “Go naked. And, Harry, 
+make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows 
+I could do with a laugh.” 
+
+She left the room, slamming the door behind her. 
+There was a funny spluttering noise from behind 
+them. Pigwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl 
+Treat. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Why is everything I own rubbish?” said Ron 
+furiously, striding across the room to unstick 
+Pigwidgeon’s beak. 
+
+
+
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+
+ABOARD THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS 
+
+There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the 
+air when Harry awoke next morning. Heavy rain was 
+still splattering against the window as he got dressed 
+in jeans and a sweatshirt; they would change into 
+their school robes on the Hogwarts Express. 
+
+He, Ron, Fred, and George had just reached the first- 
+floor landing on their way down to breakfast, when 
+Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, 
+looking harassed. 
+
+“Arthur!” she called up the staircase. “Arthur! Urgent 
+message from the Ministry!” 
+
+Harry flattened himself against the wall as Mr. 
+Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back- 
+to-front and hurtled out of sight. When Harry and the 
+others entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs. Weasley 
+rummaging anxiously in the drawers — “I’ve got a 
+quill here somewhere!” — and Mr. Weasley bending 
+over the fire, talking to — 
+
+
+
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+
+Harry shut his eyes hard and opened them again to 
+make sure that they were working properly. 
+
+Amos Diggory’s head was sitting in the middle of the 
+flames like a large, bearded egg. It was talking very 
+fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying 
+around it and the flames licking its ears. 
+
+"... Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so 
+they went and called those what-d’you-call-’ems — 
+please-men. Arthur, you’ve got to get over there — ” 
+
+“Here!” said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a 
+piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled 
+quill into Mr. Weasley’s hands. 
+
+“ — it’s a real stroke of luck I heard about it,” said Mr. 
+Diggory’s head. “I had to come into the office early to 
+send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use 
+of Magic lot all setting off — if Rita Skeeter gets hold 
+of this one, Arthur — ” 
+
+“What does Mad-Eye say happened?” asked Mr. 
+Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his 
+quill, and preparing to take notes. 
+
+Mr. Diggory’s head rolled its eyes. “Says he heard an 
+intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the 
+house, but was ambushed by his dustbins.” 
+
+“What did the dustbins do?” asked Mr. Weasley, 
+scribbling frantically. 
+
+“Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish 
+everywhere, as far as I can tell,” said Mr. Diggory. 
+“Apparently one of them was still rocketing around 
+when the please-men turned up — ” 
+
+Mr. Weasley groaned. 
+
+Page | 176 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“And what about the intruder?” 
+
+
+
+“Arthur, you know Mad-Eye,” said Mr. Diggory’s head, 
+rolling its eyes again. “Someone creeping into his yard 
+in the dead of night? More likely there’s a very shell- 
+shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in 
+potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot 
+get their hands on Mad-Eye, he’s had it — think of 
+his record — we’ve got to get him off on a minor 
+charge, something in your department — what are 
+exploding dustbins worth?” 
+
+“Might be a caution,” said Mr. Weasley, still writing 
+very fast, his brow furrowed. “Mad-Eye didn’t use his 
+wand? He didn’t actually attack anyone?” 
+
+“I’ll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing 
+everything he could reach through the window,” said 
+Mr. Diggory, “but they’ll have a job proving it, there 
+aren’t any casualties.” 
+
+“All right, I’m off,” Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed 
+the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket 
+and dashed out of the kitchen again. 
+
+Mr. Diggory’s head looked around at Mrs. Weasley. 
+
+“Sorry about this, Molly,” it said, more calmly, 
+“bothering you so early and everything . . . but Arthur’s 
+the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye’s 
+supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he 
+had to choose last night ...” 
+
+“Never mind, Amos,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sure you 
+won’t have a bit of toast or anything before you go?” 
+
+“Oh go on, then,” said Mr. Diggory. 
+
+
+
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+
+Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a 
+stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, 
+and transferred it into Mr. Diggory’s mouth. 
+
+“Fanks,” he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a 
+small pop, vanished. 
+
+Harry could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good- 
+byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five 
+minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the 
+right way now, dragging a comb through his hair. 
+
+“I’d better hurry — you have a good term, boys,” said 
+Mr. Weasley to Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a 
+cloak over his shoulders and preparing to 
+Disapparate. “Molly, are you going to be all right 
+taking the kids to King’s Cross?” 
+
+“Of course I will,” she said. “You just look after Mad- 
+Eye, we’ll be fine.” 
+
+As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the 
+kitchen. 
+
+“Did someone say Mad-Eye?” Bill asked. “What’s he 
+been up to now? 
+
+“He says someone tried to break into his house last 
+night,” said Mrs. Weasley. 
+
+“Mad-Eye Moody?” said George thoughtfully, 
+spreading marmalade on his toast. “Isn’t he that 
+nutter — ” 
+
+“Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody,” 
+said Mrs. Weasley sternly. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn’t he?” said Fred 
+quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. “Birds of a 
+feather ...” 
+
+“Moody was a great wizard in his time,” said Bill. 
+
+“He’s an old friend of Dumbledore’s, isn’t he?” said 
+Charlie. 
+
+“Dumbledore’s not what you’d call normal, though, is 
+he?” said Fred. “I mean, I know he’s a genius and 
+everything ...” 
+
+“Who is Mad-Eye?” asked Harry. 
+
+“He’s retired, used to work at the Ministry,” said 
+Charlie. “I met him once when Dad took me into work 
+with him. He was an Auror — one of the best ... a 
+Dark wizard catcher,” he added, seeing Harry’s blank 
+look. “Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of 
+him. He made himself loads of enemies, though ... the 
+families of people he caught, mainly . . . and I heard 
+he’s been getting really paranoid in his old age. 
+Doesn’t trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards 
+everywhere.” 
+
+Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off 
+at King’s Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most 
+profusely, said that he really needed to get to work. 
+
+“I just can’t justify taking more time off at the 
+moment,” he told them. “Mr. Crouch is really starting 
+to rely on me.” 
+
+“Yeah, you know what, Percy?” said George seriously. 
+“I reckon he’ll know your name soon.” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village 
+post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take 
+them into London. 
+
+
+
+“Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us,” Mrs. 
+Weasley whispered to Harry as they stood in the rain- 
+washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six 
+heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. “But there 
+weren’t any to spare. ... Oh dear, they don’t look 
+happy, do they?” 
+
+Harry didn’t like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi 
+drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and 
+Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor 
+did it help that a number of Filibuster’s Fabulous 
+Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks went off unexpectedly 
+when Fred’s trunk sprang open, causing the driver 
+carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks 
+clawed his way up the man’s leg. 
+
+The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that 
+they were jammed in the back of the taxis with their 
+trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover 
+from the fireworks, and by the time they entered 
+London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely 
+scratched. They were very relieved to get out at King’s 
+Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder 
+than ever, and they got soaked carrying their trunks 
+across the busy road and into the station. 
+
+Harry was used to getting onto platform nine and 
+three-quarters by now. It was a simple matter of 
+walking straight through the apparently solid barrier 
+dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part 
+was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid 
+attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups 
+today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most 
+conspicuous, since they were accompanied by 
+Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned 
+Page | 180 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, 
+and slid sideways through it ... and as they did so, 
+platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front 
+of them. 
+
+The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam 
+engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing 
+from it, through which the many Hogwarts students 
+and parents on the platform appeared like dark 
+ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in 
+response to the hooting of many owls through the 
+mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, 
+and were soon stowing their luggage in a 
+compartment halfway along the train. They then 
+hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye 
+to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie. 
+
+“I might be seeing you all sooner than you think,” 
+said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye. 
+
+“Why?” said Fred keenly. 
+
+“You’ll see,” said Charlie. “Just don’t tell Percy I 
+mentioned it ... it’s ‘classified information, until such 
+time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,’ after all.” 
+
+“Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this 
+year,” said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost 
+wistfully at the train. 
+
+“Why?” said George impatiently. 
+
+“You’re going to have an interesting year,” said Bill, 
+his eyes twinkling. “I might even get time off to come 
+and watch a bit of it. ...” 
+
+“A bit of what?” said Ron. 
+
+
+
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+
+But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. 
+Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors. 
+
+“Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley,” said 
+Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, 
+and leaned out of the window to talk to her. 
+
+“Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley,” said 
+Harry. 
+
+“Oh it was my pleasure, dears,” said Mrs. Weasley. 
+“Td invite you for Christmas, but ... well, I expect 
+you’re all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what 
+with ... one thing and another.” 
+
+“Mum!” said Ron irritably. “What d’you three know 
+that we don’t?” 
+
+“You’ll find out this evening, I expect,” said Mrs. 
+Weasley, smiling. “It’s going to be very exciting — 
+mind you, I’m very glad they’ve changed the rules — ” 
+
+“What rules?” said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George 
+together. 
+
+“I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. ... Now, 
+behave, won’t you? Won’t you, Fred? And you, 
+George?” 
+
+The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to 
+move. 
+
+“Tell us what’s happening at Hogwarts!” Fred 
+bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and 
+Charlie sped away from them. “What rules are they 
+changing?” 
+
+
+
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+
+But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the 
+train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie 
+had Disapparated. 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their 
+compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows 
+made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid 
+his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and 
+flung them over Pigwidgeon’s cage to muffle his 
+hooting. 
+
+“Bagman wanted to tell us what’s happening at 
+Hogwarts,” he said grumpily, sitting down next to 
+Harry. “At the World Cup, remember? But my own 
+mother won’t say. Wonder what — ” 
+
+“Shh!” Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her 
+finger to her lips and pointing toward the 
+compartment next to theirs. Harry and Ron listened, 
+and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in 
+through the open door. 
+
+"... Father actually considered sending me to 
+Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He 
+knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his 
+opinion of Dumbledore — the man’s such a 
+Mudblood-lover — and Durmstrang doesn’t admit 
+that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of 
+me going to school so far away. Father says 
+Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than 
+Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students 
+actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we 
+do. ...” 
+
+Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, 
+and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy’s voice. 
+
+
+
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+
+“So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, 
+does he?” she said angrily. “I wish he had gone, then 
+we wouldn’t have to put up with him.” 
+
+“Durmstrang’s another wizarding school?” said Harry. 
+
+“Yes,” said Hermione sniffily, “and it’s got a horrible 
+reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical 
+Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the 
+Dark Arts.” 
+
+“I think I’ve heard of it,” said Ron vaguely. “Where is 
+it? What country?” 
+
+“Well, nobody knows, do they?” said Hermione, 
+raising her eyebrows. 
+
+“Er — why not?” said Harry. 
+
+“There’s traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all 
+the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like 
+to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal 
+their secrets,” said Hermione matter-of-factly. 
+
+“Come off it,” said Ron, starting to laugh. 
+“Durmstrang’s got to be about the same size as 
+Hogwarts — how are you going to hide a great big 
+castle?” 
+
+“But Hogwarts is hidden,” said Hermione, in surprise. 
+“Everyone knows that ... well, everyone who’s read 
+Hogwarts, A History, anyway.” 
+
+“Just you, then,” said Ron. “So go on — how d’you 
+hide a place like Hogwarts?” 
+
+“It’s bewitched,” said Hermione. “If a Muggle looks at 
+it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over 
+
+
+
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+the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, 
+UNSAFE.” 
+
+“So Durmstrangll just look like a min to an outsider 
+too?” 
+
+“Maybe,” said Hermione, shrugging, “or it might have 
+Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup 
+stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, 
+they’ll have made it Unplottable — ” 
+
+“Come again?” 
+
+“Well, you can enchant a building so it’s impossible to 
+plot on a map, can’t you?” 
+
+“Er ... if you say so,” said Harry. 
+
+“But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the 
+far north,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “Somewhere 
+very cold, because they’ve got fur capes as part of 
+their uniforms.” 
+
+“Ah, think of the possibilities,” said Ron dreamily. “It 
+would’ve been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and 
+make it look like an accident. ... Shame his mother 
+likes him. ...” 
+
+The rain became heavier and heavier as the train 
+moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the 
+windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by 
+midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the 
+corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron 
+Cakes for them to share. 
+
+Several of their friends looked in on them as the 
+afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, 
+Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round- 
+faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought 
+
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+
+up by his formidable witch of a grandmother. Seamus 
+was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its 
+magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still 
+squeaking “ Troy — Mullet — Moran\” but in a very 
+feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour 
+or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless 
+Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The 
+Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying 
+to learn a Summoning Charm. 
+
+Neville listened jealously to the others’ conversation 
+as they relived the Cup match. 
+
+“Gran didn’t want to go,” he said miserably. “Wouldn’t 
+buy tickets. It sounded amazing though.” 
+
+“It was,” said Ron. “Look at this, Neville. ...” 
+
+He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and 
+pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum. 
+
+“Oh wow,” said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum 
+onto his pudgy hand. 
+
+“We saw him right up close, as well,” said Ron. “We 
+were in the Top Box — ” 
+
+“For the first and last time in your life, Weasley.” 
+
+Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind 
+him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish 
+cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at 
+least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had 
+overheard the conversation through the compartment 
+door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar. 
+
+“Don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,” said 
+Harry coolly. 
+
+
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+
+“Weasley ... what is that?” said Malfoy, pointing at 
+Pigwidgeon’s cage. A sleeve of Ron’s dress robes was 
+dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, 
+the moldy lace cuff very obvious. 
+
+Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy 
+was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and 
+pulled. 
+
+“Look at this!” said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up 
+Ron’s robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, “Weasley, 
+you weren’t thinking of wearing these, were you? I 
+mean — they were very fashionable in about eighteen 
+ninety. ...” 
+
+“Eat dung, Malfoy!” said Ron, the same color as the 
+dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy’s 
+grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe 
+and Goyle guffawed stupidly. 
+
+“So ... going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring 
+a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money 
+involved as well, you know ... you’d be able to afford 
+some decent robes if you won. ...” 
+
+“What are you talking about?” snapped Ron. 
+
+“ Are you going to enter?” Malfoy repeated. “I suppose 
+you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, 
+do you?” 
+
+“Either explain what you’re on about or go away, 
+Malfoy,” said Hermione testily, over the top of The 
+Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. 
+
+A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy’s pale face. 
+
+“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” he said delightedly. 
+“You’ve got a father and brother at the Ministry and 
+
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+you don’t even know ? My God, my father told me 
+about it ages ago ... heard it from Cornelius Fudge. 
+But then, Father’s always associated with the top 
+people at the Ministry. . . . Maybe your father’s too 
+junior to know about it, Weasley ... yes ... they 
+probably don’t talk about important stuff in front of 
+him. ...” 
+
+Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and 
+Goyle, and the three of them disappeared. 
+
+Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding 
+compartment door so hard behind them that the glass 
+shattered. 
+
+“Ronl” said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled 
+out her wand, muttered “ ReparoV ’ and the glass 
+shards flew back into a single pane and back into the 
+door. 
+
+“Well ... making it look like he knows everything and 
+we don’t. ...” Ron snarled. “ ‘Father’s always 
+associated with the top people at the Ministry.’... Dad 
+could’ve got a promotion any time ... he just likes it 
+where he is. ...” 
+
+“Of course he does,” said Hermione quietly. “Don’t let 
+Malfoy get to you, Ron — ” 
+
+“Him! Get to me!? As if!” said Ron, picking up one of 
+the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into 
+a pulp. 
+
+Ron’s bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. 
+He didn’t talk much as they changed into their school 
+robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts 
+Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in 
+the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station. 
+
+
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+
+As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of 
+thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up 
+Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress 
+robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads 
+bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The 
+rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it 
+was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being 
+emptied repeatedly over their heads. 
+
+“Hi, Hagrid!” Harry yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette 
+at the far end of the platform. 
+
+“All righ’, Harry?” Hagrid bellowed back, waving. “See 
+yeh at the feast if we don’ drown!” 
+
+First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by 
+sailing across the lake with Hagrid. 
+
+“Oooh, I wouldn’t fancy crossing the lake in this 
+weather,” said Hermione fervently, shivering as they 
+inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of 
+the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages stood 
+waiting for them outside the station. Harry, Ron, 
+Hermione, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of 
+them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments 
+later, with a great lurch, the long procession of 
+carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the 
+track toward Hogwarts Castle. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 
+
+Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged 
+boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages 
+trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast 
+becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Harry 
+could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted 
+windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick 
+curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as 
+their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front 
+doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. 
+People who had occupied the carriages in front were 
+already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. 
+Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville jumped down from 
+their carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up 
+only when they were safely inside the cavernous, 
+torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble 
+staircase. 
+
+“Blimey,” said Ron, shaking his head and sending 
+water everywhere, “if that keeps up the lake’s going to 
+overflow. I’m soak — ARRGH!” 
+
+
+
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+A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from 
+out of the ceiling onto Ron’s head and exploded. 
+Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways 
+into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped — 
+narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry’s feet, 
+sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into 
+his socks. People all around them shrieked and 
+started pushing one another in their efforts to get out 
+of the line of fire. Harry looked up and saw, floating 
+twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little 
+man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his 
+wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as 
+he took aim again. 
+
+“PEEVES!” yelled an angry voice. “Peeves, come down 
+here at ONCE!” 
+
+Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and 
+head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of 
+the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and 
+grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself 
+from falling. 
+
+“Ouch — sorry, Miss Granger — ” 
+
+“That’s all right, Professor!” Hermione gasped, 
+massaging her throat. 
+
+“Peeves, get down here NOW!” barked Professor 
+McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and 
+glaring upward through her square-rimmed 
+spectacles. 
+
+“Not doing nothing!” cackled Peeves, lobbing a water 
+bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and 
+dived into the Great Hall. “Already wet, aren’t they? 
+Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!” And he aimed another 
+bomb at a group of second years who had just 
+arrived. 
+
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+
+“I shall call the headmaster!” shouted Professor 
+McGonagall. “I’m warning you, Peeves — ” 
+
+Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his 
+water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the 
+marble staircase, cackling insanely. 
+
+“Well, move along, then!” said Professor McGonagall 
+sharply to the bedraggled crowd. “Into the Great Hall, 
+come on!” 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the 
+entrance hall and through the double doors on the 
+right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he 
+pushed his sopping hair off his face. 
+
+The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, 
+decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates 
+and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and 
+hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in 
+midair. The four long House tables were packed with 
+chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff 
+sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. 
+
+It was much warmer in here. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione walked past the Slytherins, the 
+Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with 
+the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, 
+next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. 
+Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed 
+tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly 
+large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking 
+extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn’t wobble 
+too much on his partially severed neck. 
+
+“Good evening,” he said, beaming at them. 
+
+“Says who?” said Harry, taking off his sneakers and 
+emptying them of water. “Hope they hurry up with the 
+Sorting. I’m starving.” 
+
+Page | 192 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+The Sorting of the new students into Houses took 
+place at the start of every school year, but by an 
+unlucky combination of circumstances, Harry hadn’t 
+been present at one since his own. He was quite 
+looking forward to it. Just then, a highly excited, 
+breathless voice called down the table. 
+
+“Hiya, Harry!” 
+
+It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was 
+something of a hero. 
+
+“Hi, Colin,” said Harry warily. 
+
+“Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother’s 
+starting! My brother Dennis!” 
+
+“Er — good,” said Harry. 
+
+“He’s really excited!” said Colin, practically bouncing 
+up and down in his seat. “I just hope he’s in 
+Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?” 
+
+“Er — yeah, all right,” said Harry. He turned back to 
+Hermione, Ron, and Nearly Headless Nick. “Brothers 
+and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don’t 
+they?” he said. He was judging by the Weasleys, all 
+seven of whom had been put into Gryffindor. 
+
+“Oh no, not necessarily,” said Hermione. “Parvati 
+Patil’s twin’s in Ravenclaw, and they’re identical. 
+You’d think they’d be together, wouldn’t you?” 
+
+Harry looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be 
+rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of 
+course, was still fighting his way across the lake with 
+the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably 
+supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but 
+
+
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+there was another empty chair too, and Harry 
+couldn’t think who else was missing. 
+
+“Where’s the new Defense Against the Dark Arts 
+teacher?” said Hermione, who was also looking up at 
+the teachers. 
+
+They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark 
+Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. 
+Harry’s favorite by far had been Professor Lupin, who 
+had resigned last year. He looked up and down the 
+staff table. There was definitely no new face there. 
+
+“Maybe they couldn’t get anyone!” said Hermione, 
+looking anxious. 
+
+Harry scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little 
+Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on 
+a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the 
+Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her 
+flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor 
+Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor 
+Sinistra ’s other side was the sallow-faced, hook- 
+nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape — 
+
+Harry’s least favorite person at Hogwarts. Harry’s 
+loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape ’s 
+hatred of him, a hatred which had, if possible, 
+intensified last year, when Harry had helped Sirius 
+escape right under Snape ’s overlarge nose — Snape 
+and Sirius had been enemies since their own school 
+days. 
+
+On Snape ’s other side was an empty seat, which 
+Harry guessed was Professor McGonagall’s. Next to it, 
+and in the very center of the table, sat Professor 
+Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair 
+and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent 
+deep green robes embroidered with many stars and 
+moons. The tips of Dumbledore ’s long, thin fingers 
+Page | 194 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+were together and he was resting his chin upon them, 
+staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon 
+spectacles as though lost in thought. Harry glanced 
+up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the 
+sky outside, and he had never seen it look this 
+stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across 
+it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a 
+fork of lightning flashed across it. 
+
+“Oh hurry up,” Ron moaned, beside Harry, “I could 
+eat a hippogriff.” 
+
+The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the 
+doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. 
+Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first 
+years up to the top of the Hall. If Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione were wet, it was nothing to how these first 
+years looked. They appeared to have swum across the 
+lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering 
+with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed 
+along the staff table and came to a halt in a line 
+facing the rest of the school — all of them except the 
+smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was 
+wrapped in what Harry recognized as Hagrid’s 
+moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it 
+looked as though he were draped in a furry black 
+circus tent. His small face protruded from over the 
+collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had 
+lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught 
+Colin Creevey’s eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and 
+mouthed, I fell in the lake\ He looked positively 
+delighted about it. 
+
+Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool 
+on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, 
+an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard’s hat. The first 
+years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a 
+moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the 
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke 
+into song: 
+
+A thousand years or more ago, 
+
+When I was newly sewn, 
+
+There lived four wizards of renown, 
+
+Whose names are still well known: 
+
+Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, 
+
+Fair Ravenclaw, from glen, 
+
+Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, 
+
+Shrewd Slytherin, from fen. 
+
+They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, 
+
+They hatched a daring plan 
+To educate young sorcerers 
+Thus Hogwarts School began. 
+
+Now each of these four founders 
+Formed their own house, for each 
+Did value different virtues 
+In the ones they had to teach. 
+
+By Gryffindor, the bravest were 
+Prized far beyond the rest; 
+
+For Ravenclaw, the cleverest 
+Would always be the best; 
+
+For Hufflepuff, hard workers were 
+Most worthy of admission; 
+
+And power-hungry Slytherin 
+Loved those of great ambition. 
+
+While still alive they did divide 
+Their favorites from the throng, 
+
+Yet how to pick the worthy ones 
+When they were dead and gone? 
+
+Twas Gryffindor who found the way, 
+
+He whipped me off his head 
+
+The founders put some brains in me 
+
+So I could choose instead! 
+
+Now slip me snug about your ears, 
+
+I’ve never yet been wrong, 
+
+111 have a look inside your mind 
+And tell where you belong! 
+
+Page | 196 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat 
+finished. 
+
+
+
+“That’s not the song it sang when it Sorted us,” said 
+Harry, clapping along with everyone else. 
+
+“Sings a different one every year,” said Ron. “It’s got 
+to be a pretty boring life, hasn’t it, being a hat? I 
+suppose it spends all year making up the next one.” 
+
+Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll 
+of parchment. 
+
+“When I call out your name, you will put on the hat 
+and sit on the stool,” she told the first years. “When 
+the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at 
+the appropriate table. 
+
+“Ackerley, Stewart!” 
+
+A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to 
+foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat 
+down on the stool. 
+
+“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat. 
+
+Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a 
+seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was 
+applauding him. Harry caught a glimpse of Cho, the 
+Ravenclaw Seeker, cheering Stewart Ackerley as he 
+sat down. For a fleeting second, Harry had a strange 
+desire to join the Ravenclaw table too. 
+
+“Baddock, Malcolm!” 
+
+“SLYTHERIN!” 
+
+The table on the other side of the hall erupted with 
+cheers; Harry could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock 
+
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+
+
+
+joined the Slytherins. Harry wondered whether 
+Baddock knew that Slytherin House had turned out 
+more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred 
+and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down. 
+
+“Branstone, Eleanor!” 
+
+“HUFFLEPUFF!” 
+
+“Cauldwell, Owen!” 
+
+“HUFFLEPUFF!” 
+
+“Creevey, Dennis!” 
+
+Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over 
+Hagrid ’s moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into 
+the Hall through a door behind the teachers’ table. 
+About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least 
+three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, 
+tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming 
+— a misleading impression, for Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. 
+He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the 
+staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on 
+the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide — 
+
+“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat shouted. 
+
+Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis 
+Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it 
+back on the stool, and hurried over to join his 
+brother. 
+
+“Colin, I fell in!” he said shrilly, throwing himself into 
+an empty seat. “It was brilliant! And something in the 
+water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!” 
+
+
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+“Cool!” said Colin, just as excitedly. “It was probably 
+the giant squid, Dennis!” 
+
+“Wow\” said Dennis, as though nobody in their 
+wildest dreams could hope for more than being 
+thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and 
+pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster. 
+
+“Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one 
+with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who 
+he is, Dennis ?” 
+
+Harry looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting 
+Hat, now Sorting Emma Dobbs. 
+
+The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying 
+degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to 
+the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as 
+Professor McGonagall passed the L’s. 
+
+“Oh hurry up,” Ron moaned, massaging his stomach. 
+
+“Now, Ron, the Sorting’s much more important than 
+food,” said Nearly Headless Nick as “Madley, Laura!” 
+became a Hufflepuff. 
+
+“ ’Course it is, if you’re dead,” snapped Ron. 
+
+“I do hope this year’s batch of Gryffindors are up to 
+scratch,” said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as 
+“McDonald, Natalie!” joined the Gryffindor table. “We 
+don’t want to break our winning streak, do we?” 
+
+Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship 
+for the last three years in a row. 
+
+“Pritchard, Graham!” 
+
+“SLYTHERIN!” 
+
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+
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+“Quirke, Orla!” 
+
+
+
+“RAVENCLAW!” 
+
+And finally, with “Whitby, Kevin!” (“HUFFLEPUFF!”), 
+the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up 
+the hat and the stool and carried them away. 
+
+“About time,” said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and 
+looking expectantly at his golden plate. 
+
+Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was 
+smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide 
+in welcome. 
+
+“I have only two words to say to you,” he told them, 
+his deep voice echoing around the Hall. “ Tuck in.” 
+
+“Hear, hear!” said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty 
+dishes filled magically before their eyes. 
+
+Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as Harry, 
+Ron, and Hermione loaded their own plates. 
+
+“Aaah, ’at’s be’er,” said Ron, with his mouth full of 
+mashed potato. 
+
+“You’re lucky there’s a feast at all tonight, you know,” 
+said Nearly Headless Nick. “There was trouble in the 
+kitchens earlier.” 
+
+“Why? Wha’ ’appened?” said Harry, through a sizable 
+chunk of steak. 
+
+“Peeves, of course,” said Nearly Headless Nick, 
+shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He 
+pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. “The 
+usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the 
+feast — well, it’s quite out of the question, you know 
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+
+what he’s like, utterly uncivilized, can’t see a plate of 
+food without throwing it. We held a ghost’s council — 
+the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance — but 
+most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his 
+foot down.” 
+
+The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt 
+and silent specter covered in silver bloodstains. He 
+was the only person at Hogwarts who could really 
+control Peeves. 
+
+“Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about 
+something,” said Ron darkly. “So what did he do in 
+the kitchens?” 
+
+“Oh the usual,” said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. 
+“Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans 
+everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the 
+house-elves out of their wits — ” 
+
+Clang. 
+
+Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. 
+Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, 
+staining several feet of white linen orange, but 
+Hermione paid no attention. 
+
+“There are house-elves here?” she said, staring, 
+horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. “Here at 
+Hogwarts ?” 
+
+“Certainly,” said Nearly Headless Nick, looking 
+surprised at her reaction. “The largest number in any 
+dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred.” 
+
+“I’ve never seen one!” said Hermione. 
+
+“Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do 
+they?” said Nearly Headless Nick. “They come out at 
+
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+night to do a bit of cleaning . . . see to the fires and so 
+on. ... I mean, you’re not supposed to see them, are 
+you? That’s the mark of a good house-elf, isn’t it, that 
+you don’t know it’s there?” 
+
+Hermione stared at him. 
+
+“But they get paid?” she said. “They get holidays, 
+don’t they? And — and sick leave, and pensions, and 
+everything?” 
+
+Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff 
+slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch 
+or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it 
+to his neck. 
+
+“Sick leave and pensions?” he said, pushing his head 
+back onto his shoulders and securing it once more 
+with his ruff. “House-elves don’t want sick leave and 
+pensions!” 
+
+Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of 
+food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and 
+pushed it away from her. 
+
+“Oh c’mon, ’Er-my-knee,” said Ron, accidentally 
+spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. “Oops 
+— sorry, ’Arry — ” He swallowed. “You won’t get them 
+sick leave by starving yourself!” 
+
+“Slave labor,” said Hermione, breathing hard through 
+her nose. “That’s what made this dinner. Slave labor.” 
+
+And she refused to eat another bite. 
+
+The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, 
+dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the 
+windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating 
+
+
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+the golden plates as the remains of the first course 
+vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings. 
+
+“Treacle tart, Hermione!” said Ron, deliberately 
+wafting its smell toward her. “Spotted dick, look! 
+Chocolate gateau!” 
+
+But Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of 
+Professor McGonagall that he gave up. 
+
+When the puddings too had been demolished, and the 
+last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them 
+sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet 
+again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased 
+almost at once, so that only the howling wind and 
+pounding rain could be heard. 
+
+“So!” said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. 
+“Now that we are all fed and watered,” (“Hmph!” said 
+Hermione) “I must once more ask for your attention, 
+while I give out a few notices. 
+
+“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you 
+that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has 
+this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, 
+Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The 
+full list comprises some four hundred and thirty- 
+seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. 
+
+Filch ’s office, if anybody would like to check it.” 
+
+The corners of Dumbledore ’s mouth twitched. He 
+continued, “As ever, I would like to remind you all 
+that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to 
+students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below 
+third year. 
+
+“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the 
+Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this 
+year.” 
+
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+
+“What?” Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and 
+George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. 
+They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, 
+apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went 
+on, “This is due to an event that will be starting in 
+October, and continuing throughout the school year, 
+taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy — 
+but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have 
+great pleasure in announcing that this year at 
+Hogwarts — ” 
+
+But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of 
+thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. 
+
+A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long 
+staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head 
+in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, 
+suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning 
+that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, 
+shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, 
+then began to walk up toward the teachers’ table. 
+
+A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every 
+other step. He reached the end of the top table, 
+turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. 
+Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. 
+Hermione gasped. 
+
+The lightning had thrown the man’s face into sharp 
+relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever 
+seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of 
+weathered wood by someone who had only the 
+vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to 
+look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. 
+Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth 
+looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the 
+nose was missing. But it was the man’s eyes that 
+made him frightening. 
+
+
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+One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other 
+was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. 
+The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without 
+blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to 
+side, quite independently of the normal eye — and 
+then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the 
+man’s head, so that all they could see was whiteness. 
+
+The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a 
+hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and 
+Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn’t 
+hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the 
+stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied 
+in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured 
+the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side. 
+
+The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray 
+hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward 
+him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed 
+it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, 
+speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. 
+His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the 
+blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its 
+socket, taking in the Hall and the students. 
+
+“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark 
+Arts teacher?” said Dumbledore brightly into the 
+silence. “Professor Moody.” 
+
+It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with 
+applause, but none of the staff or students clapped 
+except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their 
+hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed 
+dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly 
+quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by 
+Moody’s bizarre appearance to do more than stare at 
+him. 
+
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+“Moody?” Harry muttered to Ron. “MacL-Eye Moody? 
+The one your dad went to help this morning?” 
+
+“Must be,” said Ron in a low, awed voice. 
+
+“What happened to him?” Hermione whispered. “What 
+happened to his face?” 
+
+“Dunno,” Ron whispered back, watching Moody with 
+fascination. 
+
+Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than- 
+warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in 
+front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, 
+pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from 
+it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a 
+few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the 
+table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a 
+clawed foot. 
+
+Dumbledore cleared his throat. 
+
+“As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of 
+students before him, all of whom were still gazing 
+transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, “we are to have the 
+honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming 
+months, an event that has not been held for over a 
+century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you 
+that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at 
+Hogwarts this year.” 
+
+“You’re JOKING!” said Fred Weasley loudly. 
+
+The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s 
+arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and 
+Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. 
+
+“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now 
+that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over 
+
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+
+the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun 
+who all go into a bar ...” 
+
+Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. 
+
+“Er — but maybe this is not the time ... no ...” said 
+Dumbledore, “where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard 
+Tournament ... well, some of you will not know what 
+this tournament involves, so I hope those who do 
+know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, 
+and allow their attention to wander freely. 
+
+“The Triwizard Tournament was first established 
+some seven hundred years ago as a friendly 
+competition between the three largest European 
+schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and 
+Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent 
+each school, and the three champions competed in 
+three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to 
+host the tournament once every five years, and it was 
+generally agreed to be a most excellent way of 
+establishing ties between young witches and wizards 
+of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll 
+mounted so high that the tournament was 
+discontinued.” 
+
+“ Death toll?” Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. 
+But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the 
+majority of students in the Hall; many of them were 
+whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry 
+himself was far more interested in hearing about the 
+tournament than in worrying about deaths that had 
+happened hundreds of years ago. 
+
+“There have been several attempts over the centuries 
+to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore continued, 
+“none of which has been very successful. However, 
+our own departments of International Magical 
+Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have 
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+
+decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have 
+worked hard over the summer to ensure that this 
+time, no champion will find himself or herself in 
+mortal danger. 
+
+“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be 
+arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, 
+and the selection of the three champions will take 
+place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide 
+which students are most worthy to compete for the 
+Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a 
+thousand Galleons personal prize money.” 
+
+“I’m going for it!” Fred Weasley hissed down the table, 
+his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such 
+glory and riches. He was not the only person who 
+seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts 
+champion. At every House table, Harry could see 
+people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else 
+whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then 
+Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once 
+more. 
+
+“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the 
+Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the 
+participating schools, along with the Ministry of 
+Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on 
+contenders this year. Only students who are of age — 
+that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be 
+allowed to put forward their names for consideration. 
+This” — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for 
+several people had made noises of outrage at these 
+words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking 
+furious — “is a measure we feel is necessary, given 
+that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and 
+dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is 
+highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh 
+year will be able to cope with them. I will personally 
+be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our 
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+
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+impartial judge into making them Hogwarts 
+champion.” His light blue eyes twinkled as they 
+flickered over Fred’s and George’s mutinous faces. “I 
+therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting 
+yourself if you are under seventeen. 
+
+“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang 
+will be arriving in October and remaining with us for 
+the greater part of this year. I know that you will all 
+extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they 
+are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support 
+to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. 
+And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to 
+you all to be alert and rested as you enter your 
+lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!” 
+
+Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to 
+Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and 
+banging as all the students got to their feet and 
+swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance 
+hall. 
+
+“They can’t do that!” said George Weasley, who had 
+not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was 
+standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. “We’re 
+seventeen in April, why can’t we have a shot?” 
+
+“They’re not stopping me entering,” said Fred 
+stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. “The 
+champions’ll get to do all sorts of stuff you’d never be 
+allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons 
+prize money!” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Ron, a faraway look on his face. “Yeah, a 
+thousand Galleons ...” 
+
+“Come on,” said Hermione, “we’ll be the only ones left 
+here if you don’t move.” 
+
+
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+Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George set off for 
+the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways 
+in which Dumbledore might stop those who were 
+under seventeen from entering the tournament. 
+
+“Who’s this impartial judge who’s going to decide who 
+the champions are?” said Harry. 
+
+“Dunno,” said Fred, “but it’s them we’ll have to fool. I 
+reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, 
+George. ...” 
+
+“Dumbledore knows you’re not of age, though,” said 
+Ron. 
+
+“Yeah, but he’s not the one who decides who the 
+champion is, is he?” said Fred shrewdly. “Sounds to 
+me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, 
+he’ll choose the best from each school and never mind 
+how old they are. Dumbledore ’s trying to stop us 
+giving our names.” 
+
+“People have died, though!” said Hermione in a 
+worried voice as they walked through a door 
+concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, 
+narrower staircase. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Fred airily, “but that was years ago, 
+wasn’t it? Anyway, where’s the fun without a bit of 
+risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get ’round 
+Dumbledore? Fancy entering?” 
+
+“What d’you reckon?” Ron asked Harry. “Be cool to 
+enter, wouldn’t it? But I s’pose they might want 
+someone older. ... Dunno if we’ve learned enough. ...” 
+
+“I definitely haven’t,” came Neville’s gloomy voice from 
+behind Fred and George. 
+
+
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+“I expect my gran’d want me to try, though. She’s 
+always going on about how I should be upholding the 
+family honor. I’ll just have to — oops. ...” 
+
+Neville’s foot had sunk right through a step halfway 
+up the staircase. There were many of these trick 
+stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of 
+the older students to jump this particular step, but 
+Neville’s memory was notoriously poor. Harry and 
+Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him 
+out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs 
+creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily. 
+
+“Shut it, you,” said Ron, banging down its visor as 
+they passed. 
+
+They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor 
+Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of 
+a fat lady in a pink silk dress. 
+
+“Password?” she said as they approached. 
+
+“Balderdash,” said George, “a prefect downstairs told 
+me.” 
+
+The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall 
+through which they all climbed. A crackling fire 
+warmed the circular common room, which was full of 
+squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the 
+merrily dancing flames a dark look, and Harry 
+distinctly heard her mutter “ Slave labor,” before 
+bidding them good night and disappearing through 
+the doorway to the girls’ dormitory. 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Neville climbed up the last, spiral 
+staircase until they reached their own dormitory, 
+which was situated at the top of the tower. Five four- 
+poster beds with deep crimson hangings stood against 
+the walls, each with its owner’s trunk at the foot. 
+
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+
+Dean and Seamus were already getting into bed; 
+Seamus had pinned his Ireland rosette to his 
+headboard, and Dean had tacked up a poster of 
+Viktor Krum over his bedside table. His old poster of 
+the West Ham football team was pinned right next to 
+it. 
+
+“Mental,” Ron sighed, shaking his head at the 
+completely stationary soccer players. 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Neville got into their pajamas and 
+into bed. Someone — a house-elf, no doubt — had 
+placed warming pans between the sheets. It was 
+extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and 
+listening to the storm raging outside. 
+
+“I might go in for it, you know,” Ron said sleepily 
+through the darkness, “if Fred and George find out 
+how to ... the tournament ... you never know, do 
+you?” 
+
+“S’pose not. ...” 
+
+Harry rolled over in bed, a series of dazzling new 
+pictures forming in his mind’s eye. ... He had 
+hoodwinked the impartial judge into believing he was 
+seventeen ... he had become Hogwarts champion ... 
+he was standing on the grounds, his arms raised in 
+triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were 
+applauding and screaming ... he had just won the 
+Triwizard Tournament. ... Cho’s face stood out 
+particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, her face 
+glowing with admiration. ... 
+
+Harry grinned into his pillow, exceptionally glad that 
+Ron couldn’t see what he could. 
+
+
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+MAD-EYE MOODY 
+
+The storm had blown itself out by the following 
+morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still 
+gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead 
+as Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their new 
+course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, 
+
+Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing 
+magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing 
+their way into the Triwizard Tournament. 
+
+“Today’s not bad ... outside all morning,” said Ron, 
+who was running his finger down the Monday column 
+of his schedule. “Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and 
+Care of Magical Creatures ... damn it, we’re still with 
+the Slytherins. ...” 
+
+“Double Divination this afternoon,” Harry groaned, 
+looking down. Divination was his least favorite 
+subject, apart from Potions. Professor Trelawney kept 
+predicting Harry’s death, which he found extremely 
+annoying. 
+
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+“You should have given it up like me, shouldn’t you?” 
+said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. 
+“Then you’d be doing something sensible like 
+Arithmancy.” 
+
+“You’re eating again, I notice,” said Ron, watching 
+Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast 
+too. 
+
+“I’ve decided there are better ways of making a stand 
+about elf rights,” said Hermione haughtily. 
+
+“Yeah ... and you were hungry,” said Ron, grinning. 
+
+There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a 
+hundred owls came soaring through the open 
+windows carrying the morning mail. Instinctively, 
+Harry looked up, but there was no sign of white 
+among the mass of brown and gray. The owls circled 
+the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters 
+and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl 
+soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a 
+parcel into his lap — Neville almost always forgot to 
+pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco 
+Malfoy’s eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, 
+carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets 
+and cakes from home. Trying to ignore the sinking 
+feeling of disappointment in his stomach, Harry 
+returned to his porridge. Was it possible that 
+something had happened to Hedwig, and that Sirius 
+hadn’t even got his letter? 
+
+His preoccupation lasted all the way across the 
+sodden vegetable patch until they arrived in 
+greenhouse three, but here he was distracted by 
+Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants 
+Harry had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like 
+plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding 
+vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly 
+Page | 214 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, 
+which appeared to be full of liquid. 
+
+“Bubotubers,” Professor Sprout told them briskly. 
+“They need squeezing. You will collect the pus — ” 
+
+“The what?” said Seamus Finnigan, sounding 
+revolted. 
+
+“Pus, Finnigan, pus,” said Professor Sprout, “and it’s 
+extremely valuable, so don’t waste it. You will collect 
+the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon- 
+hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when 
+undiluted, bubotuber pus.” 
+
+Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly 
+satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large 
+amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, 
+which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the 
+bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the 
+end of the lesson had collected several pints. 
+
+“This’ll keep Madam Pomfrey happy,” said Professor 
+Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. “An 
+excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, 
+bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to 
+desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples.” 
+
+“Like poor Eloise Midgen,” said Hannah Abbott, a 
+Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. “She tried to curse hers 
+off.” 
+
+“Silly girl,” said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. 
+“But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the 
+end.” 
+
+A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet 
+grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the 
+class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone 
+
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+
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+
+steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading 
+in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward 
+Hagrid ’s small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge 
+of the Forbidden Forest. 
+
+Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the 
+collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There 
+were several open wooden crates on the ground at his 
+feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his 
+collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents 
+more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling 
+noise reached their ears, punctuated by what 
+sounded like minor explosions. 
+
+“Mornin’!” Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione. “Be’er wait fer the Slytherins, they won’ 
+want ter miss this — Blast-Ended Skrewts!” 
+
+“Come again?” said Ron. 
+
+Hagrid pointed down into the crates. 
+
+“Eurgh!” squealed Lavender Brown, jumping 
+backward. 
+
+“Eurgh” just about summed up the Blast-Ended 
+Skrewts in Harry’s opinion. They looked like 
+deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy - 
+looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and 
+no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them 
+in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling 
+over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of 
+the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell 
+of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly 
+out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it 
+would be propelled forward several inches. 
+
+
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+
+“On’y jus’ hatched,” said Hagrid proudly, “so yeh’ll be 
+able ter raise ’em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit 
+of a project of it!” 
+
+“And why would we want to raise them?” said a cold 
+voice. 
+
+The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco 
+Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling 
+appreciatively at his words. 
+
+Hagrid looked stumped at the question. 
+
+“I mean, what do they do?” asked Malfoy. “What is the 
+point of them?” 
+
+Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; 
+there was a few seconds’ pause, then he said roughly, 
+“Tha’s next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus’ feedin’ ’em today. 
+Now, yeh’ll wan’ ter try ’em on a few diff’rent things — 
+I’ve never had ’em before, not sure what they’ll go fer 
+
+— I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ a bit o’ grass snake 
+
+— just try ’em out with a bit of each.” 
+
+“First pus and now this,” muttered Seamus. 
+
+Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have 
+made Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy 
+handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates 
+to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Harry couldn’t 
+suppress the suspicion that the whole thing was 
+entirely pointless, because the skrewts didn’t seem to 
+have mouths. 
+
+“Ouch\” yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. 
+“It got me!” 
+
+Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Its end exploded!” said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid 
+a burn on his hand. 
+
+“Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off,” said 
+Hagrid, nodding. 
+
+“Eurgh!” said Lavender Brown again. “Eurgh, Hagrid, 
+what’s that pointy thing on it?” 
+
+“Ah, some of ’em have got stings,” said Hagrid 
+enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand 
+from the box). “I reckon they’re the males. ... The 
+females Ve got sorta sucker things on their bellies. ... I 
+think they might be ter suck blood.” 
+
+“Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep 
+them alive,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Who wouldn’t 
+want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?” 
+
+“Just because they’re not very pretty, it doesn’t mean 
+they’re not useful,” Hermione snapped. “Dragon 
+blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a 
+dragon for a pet, would you?” 
+
+Harry and Ron grinned at Hagrid, who gave them a 
+furtive smile from behind his bushy beard. Hagrid 
+would have liked nothing better than a pet dragon, as 
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew only too well — he 
+had owned one for a brief period during their first 
+year, a vicious Norwegian Ridgeback by the name of 
+Norbert. Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures, 
+the more lethal, the better. 
+
+“Well, at least the skrewts are small,” said Ron as 
+they made their way back up to the castle for lunch 
+an hour later. 
+
+
+
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+
+“They are now,” said Hermione in an exasperated 
+voice, “but once Hagrid’s found out what they eat, I 
+expect they’ll be six feet long.” 
+
+“Well, that won’t matter if they turn out to cure 
+seasickness or something, will it?” said Ron, grinning 
+slyly at her. 
+
+“You know perfectly well I only said that to shut 
+Malfoy up,” said Hermione. “As a matter of fact I 
+think he’s right. The best thing to do would be to 
+stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking 
+us all.” 
+
+They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped 
+themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione 
+began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her. 
+
+“Er — is this the new stand on elf rights?” said Ron. 
+“You’re going to make yourself puke instead?” 
+
+“No,” said Hermione, with as much dignity as she 
+could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. “I 
+just want to get to the library.” 
+
+“What?” said Ron in disbelief. “Hermione — it’s the 
+first day back! We haven’t even got homework yet!” 
+
+Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her 
+food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she 
+leapt to her feet, said, “See you at dinner!” and 
+departed at high speed. 
+
+When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon 
+lessons, Harry and Ron set off for North Tower where, 
+at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver 
+stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, 
+and the room where Professor Trelawney lived. 
+
+
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+The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire 
+met their nostrils as they emerged at the top of the 
+stepladder. As ever, the curtains were all closed; the 
+circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast 
+by the many lamps, which were all draped with 
+scarves and shawls. Harry and Ron walked through 
+the mass of occupied chintz chairs and poufs that 
+cluttered the room, and sat down at the same small 
+circular table. 
+
+“Good day,” said the misty voice of Professor 
+Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump. 
+
+A very thin woman with enormous glasses that made 
+her eyes appear far too large for her face, Professor 
+Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic 
+expression she always wore whenever she saw him. 
+The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles 
+glittered upon her person in the firelight. 
+
+“You are preoccupied, my dear,” she said mournfully 
+to Harry. “My inner eye sees past your brave face to 
+the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your 
+worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead 
+for you, alas ... most difficult ... I fear the thing you 
+dread will indeed come to pass ... and perhaps sooner 
+than you think. ...” 
+
+Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. Ron rolled his 
+eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. Professor 
+Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a 
+large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. 
+Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply 
+admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs 
+very close to her. 
+
+“My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars,” she 
+said. “The movements of the planets and the 
+mysterious portents they reveal only to those who 
+
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+understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human 
+destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, 
+which intermingle ...” 
+
+But Harry’s thoughts had drifted. The perfumed fire 
+always made him feel sleepy and dull-witted, and 
+Professor Trelawney’s rambling talks on fortune- 
+telling never held him exactly spellbound — though 
+he couldn’t help thinking about what she had just 
+said to him. “ ‘I fear the thing you dread will indeed 
+come to pass . . . ’ ” 
+
+But Hermione was right, Harry thought irritably, 
+Professor Trelawney really was an old fraud. He 
+wasn’t dreading anything at the moment at all ... well, 
+unless you counted his fears that Sirius had been 
+caught ... but what did Professor Trelawney know? He 
+had long since come to the conclusion that her brand 
+of fortune-telling was really no more than lucky 
+guesswork and a spooky manner. 
+
+Except, of course, for that time at the end of last 
+term, when she had made the prediction about 
+Voldemort rising again . . . and Dumbledore himself 
+had said that he thought that trance had been 
+genuine, when Harry had described it to him. ... 
+
+“Harry\” Ron muttered. 
+
+“What?” 
+
+Harry looked around; the whole class was staring at 
+him. He sat up straight; he had been almost dozing 
+off, lost in the heat and his thoughts. 
+
+“I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born 
+under the baleful influence of Saturn,” said Professor 
+Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at 
+
+
+
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+
+the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on 
+her words. 
+
+“Born under — what, sorry?” said Harry. 
+
+“Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!” said Professor 
+Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated that he wasn’t 
+riveted by this news. “I was saying that Saturn was 
+surely in a position of power in the heavens at the 
+moment of your birth. ... Your dark hair ... your mean 
+stature ... tragic losses so young in life ... I think I am 
+right in saying, my dear, that you were born in 
+midwinter?” 
+
+“No,” said Harry, “I was born in July.” 
+
+Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough. 
+
+Half an hour later, each of them had been given a 
+complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill 
+in the position of the planets at their moment of birth. 
+It was dull work, requiring much consultation of 
+timetables and calculation of angles. 
+
+“I’ve got two Neptunes here,” said Harry after a while, 
+frowning down at his piece of parchment, “that can’t 
+be right, can it?” 
+
+“Aaaaah,” said Ron, imitating Professor Trelawney’s 
+mystical whisper, “when two Neptunes appear in the 
+sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being 
+born, Harry ...” 
+
+Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, 
+sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask 
+the excited squeals from Lavender Brown — “Oh 
+Professor, look! I think I’ve got an unaspected planet! 
+Oooh, which one’s that, Professor?” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“It is Uranus, my dear,” said Professor Trelawney, 
+peering down at the chart. 
+
+“Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?” said 
+Ron. 
+
+Most unfortunately, Professor Trelawney heard him, 
+and it was this, perhaps, that made her give them so 
+much homework at the end of the class. 
+
+“A detailed analysis of the way the planetary 
+movements in the coming month will affect you, with 
+reference to your personal chart,” she snapped, 
+sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than 
+her usual airy-fairy self. “I want it ready to hand in 
+next Monday, and no excuses!” 
+
+“Miserable old bat,” said Ron bitterly as they joined 
+the crowds descending the staircases back to the 
+Great Hall and dinner. “Thatll take all weekend, that 
+will. ...” 
+
+“Lots of homework?” said Hermione brightly, catching 
+up with them. “Professor Vector didn’t give us any at 
+all!” 
+
+“Well, bully for Professor Vector,” said Ron moodily. 
+
+They reached the entrance hall, which was packed 
+with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined 
+the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind 
+them. 
+
+“Weasley! Hey, Weasley!” 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, 
+and Goyle were standing there, each looking 
+thoroughly pleased about something. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“What?” said Ron shortly. 
+
+
+
+“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!” said Malfoy, 
+brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking 
+very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance 
+hall could hear. “Listen to this! 
+
+FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC 
+
+It seems as though the Ministry of Magic’s troubles are 
+not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special 
+Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd 
+control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to 
+account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the 
+Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment 
+yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the 
+Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. ” 
+
+Malfoy looked up. 
+
+“Imagine them not even getting his name right, 
+Weasley. It’s almost as though he’s a complete 
+nonentity, isn’t it?” he crowed. 
+
+Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. 
+Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and 
+read on: 
+
+Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of 
+a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in 
+a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers (“policemen”) 
+over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. 
+Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of “Mad- 
+Eye” Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the 
+Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference 
+between a handshake and attempted murder. 
+Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. 
+Moody ’s heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had 
+once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was 
+Page | 224 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+forced to modify several memories before he could 
+escape from the policemen, but refused to answer 
+Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved 
+the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially 
+embarrassing scene. 
+
+“And there’s a picture, Weasley!” said Malfoy, flipping 
+the paper over and holding it up. “A picture of your 
+parents outside their house — if you can call it a 
+house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of 
+weight, couldn’t she?” 
+
+Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at 
+him. 
+
+“Get stuffed, Malfoy,” said Harry. “C’mon, Ron. ...” 
+
+“Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, 
+weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is 
+his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?” 
+
+“You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both 
+he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s 
+robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — 
+“that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under 
+her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it 
+just because you were with her?” 
+
+Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink. 
+
+“Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.” 
+
+“Keep your fat mouth shut, then,” said Harry, turning 
+away. 
+
+BANG! 
+
+Several people screamed — Harry felt something 
+white-hot graze the side of his face — he plunged his 
+
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+
+hand into his robes for his wand, but before he’d even 
+touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar 
+that echoed through the entrance hall. 
+
+“OH NO YOU DONT, LADDIE!” 
+
+Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping 
+down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it 
+was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was 
+shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where 
+Malfoy had been standing. 
+
+There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. 
+Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody 
+turned to look at Harry — at least, his normal eye was 
+looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the 
+back of his head. 
+
+“Did he get you?” Moody growled. His voice was low 
+and gravelly. 
+
+“No,” said Harry, “missed.” 
+
+“LEAVE IT!” Moody shouted. 
+
+“Leave — what?” Harry said, bewildered. 
+
+“Not you — him!” Moody growled, jerking his thumb 
+over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, 
+about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that 
+Moody’s rolling eye was magical and could see out of 
+the back of his head. 
+
+Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the 
+ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, 
+streaking toward the dungeons. 
+
+“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at 
+the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air, fell with 
+
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+a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once 
+more. 
+
+“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s 
+back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced 
+higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, 
+cowardly, scummy thing to do. ...” 
+
+The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing 
+helplessly. 
+
+“Never — do — that — again — ” said Moody, speaking 
+each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and 
+bounced upward again. 
+
+“Professor Moody!” said a shocked voice. 
+
+Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble 
+staircase with her arms full of books. 
+
+“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, 
+bouncing the ferret still higher. 
+
+“What — what are you doing?” said Professor 
+McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s 
+progress through the air. 
+
+“Teaching,” said Moody. 
+
+“Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked 
+Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her 
+arms. 
+
+“Yep,” said Moody. 
+
+“No!” cried Professor McGonagall, running down the 
+stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with 
+a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, 
+lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair 
+
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+all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his 
+feet, wincing. 
+
+“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a 
+punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly. 
+“Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?” 
+
+“He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, 
+scratching his chin unconcernedly, “but I thought a 
+good sharp shock — ” 
+
+“We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s 
+Head of House!” 
+
+“I’ll do that, then,” said Moody, staring at Malfoy with 
+great dislike. 
+
+Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain 
+and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody 
+and muttered something in which the words “my 
+father” were distinguishable. 
+
+“Oh yeah?” said Moody quietly, limping forward a few 
+steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around 
+the hall. “Well, I know your father of old, boy. ... You 
+tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son . . . you 
+tell him that from me. ... Now, your Head of House’ll 
+be Snape, will it?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Malfoy resentfully. 
+
+“Another old friend,” growled Moody. “I’ve been 
+looking forward to a chat with old Snape. ... Come on, 
+you. ...” 
+
+And he seized Malfoy’s upper arm and marched him 
+off toward the dungeons. 
+
+
+
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+Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for 
+a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen 
+books, causing them to soar up into the air and back 
+into her arms. 
+
+“Don’t talk to me,” Ron said quietly to Harry and 
+Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a 
+few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all 
+sides about what had just happened. 
+
+“Why not?” said Hermione in surprise. 
+
+“Because I want to fix that in my memory forever,” 
+said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression 
+on his face. “Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing 
+ferret ...” 
+
+Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione 
+began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates. 
+
+“He could have really hurt Malfoy, though,” she said. 
+“It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall 
+stopped it — ” 
+
+“Hermione!” said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping 
+open again, “you’re ruining the best moment of my 
+life!” 
+
+Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat 
+at top speed again. 
+
+“Don’t tell me you’re going back to the library this 
+evening?” said Harry, watching her. 
+
+“Got to,” said Hermione thickly. “Loads to do.” 
+
+“But you told us Professor Vector — ” 
+
+
+
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+“It’s not schoolwork,” she said. Within five minutes, 
+she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner 
+had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred 
+Weasley. 
+
+“Moody!” he said. “How cool is he?” 
+
+“Beyond cool,” said George, sitting down opposite 
+Fred. 
+
+“Supercool,” said the twins’ best friend, Lee Jordan, 
+sliding into the seat beside George. “We had him this 
+afternoon,” he told Harry and Ron. 
+
+“What was it like?” said Harry eagerly. 
+
+Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of 
+meaning. 
+
+“Never had a lesson like it,” said Fred. 
+
+“He knows, man,” said Lee. 
+
+“Knows what?” said Ron, leaning forward. 
+
+“Knows what it’s like to be out there doing it,” said 
+George impressively. 
+
+“Doing what?” said Harry. 
+
+“Fighting the Dark Arts,” said Fred. 
+
+“He’s seen it all,” said George. 
+
+“ ’Mazing,” said Lee. 
+
+Ron dived into his bag for his schedule. 
+
+
+
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+
+“We haven’t got him till Thursday!” he said in a 
+disappointed voice. 
+
+
+
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+
+THE UNFORGIVABLE CURSES 
+
+The next two days passed without great incident, 
+unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron 
+in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have 
+attained new levels of vindictiveness over the 
+summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned 
+from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been 
+made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads. 
+
+“You know why Snape ’s in such a foul mood, don’t 
+you?” said Ron to Harry as they watched Hermione 
+teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog 
+guts from under his fingernails. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry. “Moody.” 
+
+It was common knowledge that Snape really wanted 
+the Dark Arts job, and he had now failed to get it for 
+the fourth year running. Snape had disliked all of 
+their previous Dark Arts teachers, and shown it — 
+but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt 
+animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever Harry 
+saw the two of them together — at mealtimes, or 
+
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+when they passed in the corridors — he had the 
+distinct impression that Snape was avoiding Moody’s 
+eye, whether magical or normal. 
+
+“I reckon Snape’s a bit scared of him, you know,” 
+Harry said thoughtfully. 
+
+“Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad,” 
+said Ron, his eyes misting over, “and bounced him all 
+around his dungeon. ...” 
+
+The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to 
+Moody’s first lesson so much that they arrived early 
+on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his 
+classroom before the bell had even rung. The only 
+person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in 
+time for the lesson. 
+
+“Been in the — ” 
+
+“Library.” Harry finished her sentence for her. 
+
+“C’mon, quick, or we won’t get decent seats.” 
+
+They hurried into three chairs right in front of the 
+teacher’s desk, took out their copies of The Dark 
+Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, 
+unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive 
+clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he 
+entered the room, looking as strange and frightening 
+as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot 
+protruding from underneath his robes. 
+
+“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over 
+to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t 
+need them.” 
+
+They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking 
+excited. 
+
+
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+
+Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of 
+grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, 
+and began to call out names, his normal eye moving 
+steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled 
+around, fixing upon each student as he or she 
+answered. 
+
+“Right then,” he said, when the last person had 
+declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from 
+Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a 
+pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures 
+— you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, 
+grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?” 
+
+There was a general murmur of assent. 
+
+“But you’re behind — very behind — on dealing with 
+curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to 
+scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got 
+one year to teach you how to deal with Dark — ” 
+
+“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out. 
+
+Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; 
+
+Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a 
+moment Moody smiled — the first time Harry had 
+seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily 
+scarred face look more twisted and contorted than 
+ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he 
+ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked 
+deeply relieved. 
+
+“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. 
+“Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few 
+days ago. ... Yeah, I’m staying just the one year. 
+Special favor to Dumbledore. ... One year, and then 
+back to my quiet retirement.” 
+
+
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+
+He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled 
+hands together. 
+
+“So — straight into it. Curses. They come in many 
+strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry 
+of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses 
+and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you 
+what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the 
+sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to 
+deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got 
+a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can 
+cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up 
+against, the better. How are you supposed to defend 
+yourself against something you’ve never seen? A 
+wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t 
+going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going 
+to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be 
+prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You 
+need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m 
+talking.” 
+
+Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing 
+Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. 
+Apparently Moody’s magical eye could see through 
+solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head. 
+
+“So ... do any of you know which curses are most 
+heavily punished by wizarding law?” 
+
+Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including 
+Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though 
+his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender. 
+
+“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one. 
+... Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?” 
+
+“Ah, yes,” said Moody appreciatively. “Your father 
+would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of 
+trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.” 
+
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+
+Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his 
+desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large 
+black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Harry 
+felt Ron recoil slightly next to him — Ron hated 
+spiders. 
+
+Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, 
+and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could 
+all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and 
+muttered, “Imperio\” 
+
+The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread 
+of silk and began to swing backward and forward as 
+though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, 
+then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing 
+on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. 
+Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two 
+of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably 
+a tap dance. 
+
+Everyone was laughing — everyone except Moody. 
+
+“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, 
+would you, if I did it to you?” 
+
+The laughter died away almost instantly. 
+
+“Total control,” said Moody quietly as the spider 
+balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I 
+could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, 
+throw itself down one of your throats ...” 
+
+Ron gave an involuntary shudder. 
+
+“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards 
+being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, 
+and Harry knew he was talking about the days in 
+which Voldemort had been all-powerful. “Some job for 
+
+
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+the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced 
+to act, and who was acting of their own free will. 
+
+“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be 
+teaching you how, but it takes real strength of 
+character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid 
+being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” 
+he barked, and everyone jumped. 
+
+Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw 
+it back into the jar. 
+
+“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?” 
+
+Hermione’s hand flew into the air again and so, to 
+Harry’s slight surprise, did Neville’s. The only class in 
+which Neville usually volunteered information was 
+Herbology, which was easily his best subject. Neville 
+looked surprised at his own daring. 
+
+“Yes?” said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over 
+to fix on Neville. 
+
+“There’s one — the Cruciatus Curse,” said Neville in a 
+small but distinct voice. 
+
+Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time 
+with both eyes. 
+
+“Your name’s Longbottom?” he said, his magical eye 
+swooping down to check the register again. 
+
+Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further 
+inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he 
+reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it 
+upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, 
+apparently too scared to move. 
+
+
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+“The Cruciatus Curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit 
+bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his 
+wand at the spider. “Engorgio\” 
+
+The spider swelled. It was now larger than a 
+tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his 
+chair backward, as far away from Moody’s desk as 
+possible. 
+
+Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, 
+and muttered, “CrucioV’ 
+
+At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it 
+rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from 
+side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was 
+sure that if it could have given voice, it would have 
+been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and 
+the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently 
+
+
+
+“Stop it!” Hermione said shrilly. 
+
+Harry looked around at her. She was looking, not at 
+the spider, but at Neville, and Harry, following her 
+gaze, saw that Neville’s hands were clenched upon the 
+desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes 
+wide and horrified. 
+
+Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but 
+it continued to twitch. 
+
+“Reducio,” Moody muttered, and the spider shrank 
+back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar. 
+
+“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need 
+thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can 
+perform the Cruciatus Curse. ... That one was very 
+popular once too. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Right . . . anyone know any others?” 
+
+
+
+Harry looked around. From the looks on everyone’s 
+faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was 
+going to happen to the last spider. Hermione’s hand 
+shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into 
+the air. 
+
+“Yes?” said Moody, looking at her. 
+
+“Avada Kedavra,” Hermione whispered. 
+
+Several people looked uneasily around at her, 
+including Ron. 
+
+“Ah,” said Moody, another slight smile twisting his 
+lopsided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada 
+Kedavra ... the Killing Curse.” 
+
+He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as 
+though it knew what was coming, the third spider 
+scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, 
+trying to evade Moody’s fingers, but he trapped it, and 
+placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle 
+frantically across the wooden surface. 
+
+Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill 
+of foreboding. 
+
+“Avada Kedavral” Moody roared. 
+
+There was a flash of blinding green light and a 
+rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something 
+was soaring through the air — instantaneously the 
+spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but 
+unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled 
+cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost 
+toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him. 
+
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+
+Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the 
+floor. 
+
+“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s 
+no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one 
+known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting 
+right in front of me.” 
+
+Harry felt his face redden as Moody’s eyes (both of 
+them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else 
+looking around at him too. Harry stared at the blank 
+blackboard as though fascinated by it, but not really 
+seeing it at all. ... 
+
+So that was how his parents had died . . . exactly like 
+that spider. Had they been unblemished and 
+unmarked too? Had they simply seen the flash of 
+green light and heard the rush of speeding death, 
+before life was wiped from their bodies? 
+
+Harry had been picturing his parents’ deaths over 
+and over again for three years now, ever since he’d 
+found out they had been murdered, ever since he’d 
+found out what had happened that night: Wormtail 
+had betrayed his parents’ whereabouts to Voldemort, 
+who had come to find them at their cottage. How 
+Voldemort had killed Harry’s father first. How James 
+Potter had tried to hold him off, while he shouted at 
+his wife to take Harry and run ... Voldemort had 
+advanced on Lily Potter, told her to move aside so 
+that he could kill Harry . . . how she had begged him to 
+kill her instead, refused to stop shielding her son . . . 
+and so Voldemort had murdered her too, before 
+turning his wand on Harry. . . . 
+
+Harry knew these details because he had heard his 
+parents’ voices when he had fought the dementors 
+last year — for that was the terrible power of the 
+dementors: to force their victims to relive the worst 
+
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+memories of their lives, and drown, powerless, in their 
+own despair. . . . 
+
+Moody was speaking again, from a great distance, it 
+seemed to Harry. With a massive effort, he pulled 
+himself back to the present and listened to what 
+Moody was saying. 
+
+“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of 
+magic behind it — you could all get your wands out 
+now and point them at me and say the words, and I 
+doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed. But that 
+doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it. 
+
+“Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing 
+you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to 
+appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find 
+yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. 
+CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and the whole 
+class jumped again. 
+
+“Now ... those three curses — Avada Kedavra, 
+Imperius, and Cruciatus — are known as the 
+Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a 
+fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence 
+in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That’s 
+what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need 
+preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you 
+need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get 
+out your quills ... copy this down. ...” 
+
+They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each 
+of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the 
+bell rang — but when Moody had dismissed them and 
+they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst 
+forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed 
+voices — “Did you see it twitch?” “ — and when he 
+killed it — just like that!” 
+
+
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+
+They were talking about the lesson, Harry thought, as 
+though it had been some sort of spectacular show, 
+but he hadn’t found it very entertaining — and nor, it 
+seemed, had Hermione. 
+
+“Hurry up,” she said tensely to Harry and Ron. 
+
+“Not the ruddy library again?” said Ron. 
+
+“No,” said Hermione curtly, pointing up a side 
+passage. “Neville.” 
+
+Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, 
+staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same 
+horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody 
+had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. 
+
+“Neville?” Hermione said gently. 
+
+Neville looked around. 
+
+“Oh hello,” he said, his voice much higher than usual. 
+“Interesting lesson, wasn’t it? I wonder what’s for 
+dinner, I’m — I’m starving, aren’t you?” 
+
+“Neville, are you all right?” said Hermione. 
+
+“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Neville gabbled in the same 
+unnaturally high voice. “Very interesting dinner — I 
+mean lesson — what’s for eating?” 
+
+Ron gave Harry a startled look. 
+
+“Neville, what — ?” 
+
+But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and 
+they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward 
+them. All four of them fell silent, watching him 
+
+
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+apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much 
+lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard. 
+
+“It’s all right, sonny,” he said to Neville. “Why don’t 
+you come up to my office? Come on . . . we can have a 
+cup of tea. ...” 
+
+Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of 
+tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody 
+turned his magical eye upon Harry. 
+
+“You all right, are you, Potter?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Harry, almost defiantly. 
+
+Moody’s blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it 
+surveyed Harry. Then he said, “You’ve got to know. It 
+seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point 
+pretending ... well ... come on, Longbottom, I’ve got 
+some books that might interest you.” 
+
+Neville looked pleadingly at Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione, but they didn’t say anything, so Neville 
+had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, 
+one of Moody’s gnarled hands on his shoulder. 
+
+“What was that about?” said Ron, watching Neville 
+and Moody turn the corner. 
+
+“I don’t know,” said Hermione, looking pensive. 
+
+“Some lesson, though, eh?” said Ron to Harry as they 
+set off for the Great Hall. “Fred and George were right, 
+weren’t they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, 
+doesn’t he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that 
+spider just died, just snuffed it right — ” 
+
+But Ron fell suddenly silent at the look on Harry’s 
+face and didn’t speak again until they reached the 
+
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+Great Hall, when he said he supposed they had better 
+make a start on Professor Trelawney’s predictions 
+tonight, since they would take hours. 
+
+Hermione did not join in with Harry and Ron’s 
+conversation during dinner, but ate furiously fast, 
+and then left for the library again. Harry and Ron 
+walked back to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry, who had 
+been thinking of nothing else all through dinner, now 
+raised the subject of the Unforgivable Curses himself. 
+
+“Wouldn’t Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with 
+the Ministry if they knew we’d seen the curses?” 
+
+Harry asked as they approached the Fat Lady. 
+
+“Yeah, probably,” said Ron. “But Dumbledore’s always 
+done things his way, hasn’t he, and Moody’s been 
+getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and 
+asks questions later — look at his dustbins. 
+Balderdash.” 
+
+The Fat Lady swung forward to reveal the entrance 
+hole, and they climbed into the Gryffindor common 
+room, which was crowded and noisy. 
+
+“Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?” said Harry. 
+
+“I s’pose,” Ron groaned. 
+
+They went up to the dormitory to fetch their books 
+and charts, to find Neville there alone, sitting on his 
+bed, reading. He looked a good deal calmer than at 
+the end of Moody’s lesson, though still not entirely 
+normal. His eyes were rather red. 
+
+“You all right, Neville?” Harry asked him. 
+
+“Oh yes,” said Neville, “I’m fine, thanks. Just reading 
+this book Professor Moody lent me. ...” 
+
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+
+He held up the book: Magical Water Plants of the 
+Mediterranean. 
+
+“Apparently, Professor Sprout told Professor Moody 
+I’m really good at Herbology,” Neville said. There was 
+a faint note of pride in his voice that Harry had rarely 
+heard there before. “He thought I’d like this.” 
+
+Telling Neville what Professor Sprout had said, Harry 
+thought, had been a very tactful way of cheering 
+Neville up, for Neville very rarely heard that he was 
+good at anything. It was the sort of thing Professor 
+Lupin would have done. 
+
+Harry and Ron took their copies of Unfogging the 
+Future back down to the common room, found a 
+table, and set to work on their predictions for the 
+coming month. An hour later, they had made very 
+little progress, though their table was littered with 
+bits of parchment bearing sums and symbols, and 
+Harry’s brain was as fogged as though it had been 
+filled with the fumes from Professor Trelawney’s fire. 
+
+“I haven’t got a clue what this lot’s supposed to 
+mean,” he said, staring down at a long list of 
+calculations. 
+
+“You know,” said Ron, whose hair was on end 
+because of all the times he had run his fingers 
+through it in frustration, “I think it’s back to the old 
+Divination standby.” 
+
+“What — make it up?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Ron, sweeping the jumble of scrawled 
+notes off the table, dipping his pen into some ink, and 
+starting to write. 
+
+
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+
+“Next Monday,” he said as he scribbled, “I am likely to 
+develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of 
+Mars and Jupiter.” He looked up at Harry. “You know 
+her — just put in loads of misery, shell lap it up.” 
+
+“Right,” said Harry, crumpling up his first attempt 
+and lobbing it over the heads of a group of chattering 
+first years into the fire. “Okay ... on Monday, / will be 
+in danger of — er — burns.” 
+
+“Yeah, you will be,” said Ron darkly, “we’re seeing the 
+skrewts again on Monday. Okay, Tuesday, I’ll ... erm 
+
+
+
+“Lose a treasured possession,” said Harry, who was 
+flicking through Unfogging the Future for ideas. 
+
+“Good one,” said Ron, copying it down. “Because of 
+... erm ... Mercury. Why don’t you get stabbed in the 
+back by someone you thought was a friend?” 
+
+“Yeah ... cool ...” said Harry, scribbling it down, 
+“because ... Venus is in the twelfth house.” 
+
+“And on Wednesday, I think I’ll come off worst in a 
+fight.” 
+
+“Aaah, I was going to have a fight. Okay, I’ll lose a 
+bet.” 
+
+“Yeah, you’ll be betting I’ll win my fight. ...” 
+
+They continued to make up predictions (which grew 
+steadily more tragic) for another hour, while the 
+common room around them slowly emptied as people 
+went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to them, 
+leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared 
+inscrutably at Harry, rather as Hermione might look if 
+she knew they weren’t doing their homework properly. 
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+
+Staring around the room, trying to think of a kind of 
+misfortune he hadn’t yet used, Harry saw Fred and 
+George sitting together against the opposite wall, 
+heads together, quills out, poring over a single piece 
+of parchment. It was most unusual to see Fred and 
+George hidden away in a corner and working silently; 
+they usually liked to be in the thick of things and the 
+noisy center of attention. There was something 
+secretive about the way they were working on the 
+piece of parchment, and Harry was reminded of how 
+they had sat together writing something back at the 
+Burrow. He had thought then that it was another 
+order form for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but it didn’t 
+look like that this time; if it had been, they would 
+surely have let Lee Jordan in on the joke. He 
+wondered whether it had anything to do with entering 
+the Triwizard Tournament. 
+
+As Harry watched, George shook his head at Fred, 
+scratched out something with his quill, and said, in a 
+very quiet voice that nevertheless carried across the 
+almost deserted room, “No — that sounds like we’re 
+accusing him. Got to be careful ...” 
+
+Then George looked over and saw Harry watching 
+him. Harry grinned and quickly returned to his 
+predictions — he didn’t want George to think he was 
+eavesdropping. Shortly after that, the twins rolled up 
+their parchment, said good night, and went off to bed. 
+
+Fred and George had been gone ten minutes or so 
+when the portrait hole opened and Hermione climbed 
+into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment 
+in one hand and a box whose contents rattled as she 
+walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, 
+purring. 
+
+“Hello,” she said, “I’ve just finished!” 
+
+
+
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+
+“So have I!” said Ron triumphantly, throwing down 
+his quill. 
+
+Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying 
+in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron’s predictions 
+toward her. 
+
+“Not going to have a very good month, are you?” she 
+said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her 
+lap. 
+
+“Ah well, at least I’m forewarned,” Ron yawned. 
+
+“You seem to be drowning twice,” said Hermione. 
+
+“Oh am I?” said Ron, peering down at his predictions. 
+“I’d better change one of them to getting trampled by 
+a rampaging hippogriff.” 
+
+“Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these 
+up?” said Hermione. 
+
+“How dare you!” said Ron, in mock outrage. “We’ve 
+been working like house-elves here!” 
+
+Hermione raised her eyebrows. 
+
+“It’s just an expression,” said Ron hastily. 
+
+Harry laid down his quill too, having just finished 
+predicting his own death by decapitation. 
+
+“What’s in the box?” he asked, pointing at it. 
+
+“Funny you should ask,” said Hermione, with a nasty 
+look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the 
+contents. 
+
+
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+
+Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, 
+but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W. 
+
+“ ‘Spew?” said Harry, picking up a badge and looking 
+at it. “What’s this about?” 
+
+“Not spew,” said Hermione impatiently. “It’s S-P-E-W. 
+Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish 
+Welfare.” 
+
+“Never heard of it,” said Ron. 
+
+“Well, of course you haven’t,” said Hermione briskly, 
+“I’ve only just started it.” 
+
+“Yeah?” said Ron in mild surprise. “How many 
+members have you got?” 
+
+“Well — if you two join — three,” said Hermione. 
+
+“And you think we want to walk around wearing 
+badges saying ‘spew,’ do you?” said Ron. 
+
+“S-P-E-W!” said Hermione hotly. “I was going to put 
+Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical 
+Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal 
+Status — but it wouldn’t fit. So that’s the heading of 
+our manifesto.” 
+
+She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them. 
+
+“I’ve been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf 
+enslavement goes back centuries. I can’t believe no 
+one’s done anything about it before now.” 
+
+“Hermione — open your ears,” said Ron loudly. “They. 
+Like. It. They like being enslaved!” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Our short-term aims,” said Hermione, speaking even 
+more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she 
+hadn’t heard a word, “are to secure house-elves fair 
+wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims 
+include changing the law about non-wand use, and 
+trying to get an elf into the Department for the 
+Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because 
+they’re shockingly underrepresented.” 
+
+“And how do we do all this?” Harry asked. 
+
+“We start by recruiting members,” said Hermione 
+happily. “I thought two Sickles to join — that buys a 
+badge — and the proceeds can fund our leaflet 
+campaign. You’re treasurer, Ron — I’ve got you a 
+collecting tin upstairs — and Harry, you’re secretary, 
+so you might want to write down everything I’m 
+saying now, as a record of our first meeting.” 
+
+There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at the 
+pair of them, and Harry sat, torn between 
+exasperation at Hermione and amusement at the look 
+on Ron’s face. The silence was broken, not by Ron, 
+who in any case looked as though he was temporarily 
+dumbstruck, but by a soft tap, tap on the window. 
+Harry looked across the now empty common room 
+and saw, illuminated by the moonlight, a snowy owl 
+perched on the windowsill. 
+
+“Hedwig!” he shouted, and he launched himself out of 
+his chair and across the room to pull open the 
+window. 
+
+Hedwig flew inside, soared across the room, and 
+landed on the table on top of Harry’s predictions. 
+
+“About time!” said Harry, hurrying after her. 
+
+
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+
+“She’s got an answer!” said Ron excitedly, pointing at 
+the grubby piece of parchment tied to Hedwig’s leg. 
+
+Harry hastily untied it and sat down to read, 
+whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting 
+softly. 
+
+“What does it say?” Hermione asked breathlessly. 
+
+The letter was very short, and looked as though it had 
+been scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud: 
+
+Harry — 
+
+I’m flying north immediately. This news about your 
+scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that 
+have reached me here. If it hurts again , go straight to 
+Dumbledore — they’re saying he’s got Mad-Eye out of 
+retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if 
+no one else is. 
+
+I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. 
+
+Keep your eyes open, Harry. 
+
+Sirius 
+
+Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione, who stared 
+back at him. 
+
+“He’s flying north?” Hermione whispered. “He’s 
+coming back?” 
+
+“Dumbledore’s reading what signs?” said Ron, looking 
+perplexed. “Harry — what’s up?” 
+
+For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with 
+his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap. 
+
+“I shouldn’t’ve told him!” Harry said furiously. 
+
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+
+
+“What are you on about?” said Ron in surprise. 
+
+
+
+“It’s made him think he’s got to come back!” said 
+Harry, now slamming his fist on the table so that 
+Hedwig landed on the back of Ron’s chair, hooting 
+indignantly. “Coming back, because he thinks I’m in 
+trouble! And there’s nothing wrong with me! And I 
+haven’t got anything for you,” Harry snapped at 
+Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly, 
+
+“you’ll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food.” 
+
+Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took 
+off for the open window, cuffing him around the head 
+with her outstretched wing as she went. 
+
+“Harry,” Hermione began, in a pacifying sort of voice. 
+
+“I’m going to bed,” said Harry shortly. “See you in the 
+morning.” 
+
+Upstairs in the dormitory he pulled on his pajamas 
+and got into his four-poster, but he didn’t feel 
+remotely tired. 
+
+If Sirius came back and got caught, it would be his, 
+Harry’s, fault. Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? A 
+few seconds’ pain and he’d had to blab. ... If he’d just 
+had the sense to keep it to himself. . . . 
+
+He heard Ron come up into the dormitory a short 
+while later, but did not speak to him. For a long time, 
+Harry lay staring up at the dark canopy of his bed. 
+The dormitory was completely silent, and, had he 
+been less preoccupied, Harry would have realized that 
+the absence of Neville’s usual snores meant that he 
+was not the only one lying awake. 
+
+
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+BEAUXBATONS AND DRUMSTRANG 
+
+Early next morning, Harry woke with a plan fully 
+formed in his mind, as though his sleeping brain had 
+been working on it all night. He got up, dressed in the 
+pale dawn light, left the dormitory without waking 
+Ron, and went back down to the deserted common 
+room. Here he took a piece of parchment from the 
+table upon which his Divination homework still lay 
+and wrote the following letter: 
+
+Dear Sirius, 
+
+I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting, I was half 
+asleep when I wrote to you last time. There’s no point 
+coming back, everything’s fine here. Don’t worry about 
+me, my head feels completely normal. 
+
+Harry 
+
+He then climbed out of the portrait hole, up through 
+the silent castle (held up only briefly by Peeves, who 
+tried to overturn a large vase on him halfway along 
+
+
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+the fourth-floor corridor), finally arriving at the 
+Owlery, which was situated at the top of West Tower. 
+
+The Owlery was a circular stone room, rather cold 
+and drafty, because none of the windows had glass in 
+them. The floor was entirely covered in straw, owl 
+droppings, and the regurgitated skeletons of mice and 
+voles. Hundreds upon hundreds of owls of every 
+breed imaginable were nestled here on perches that 
+rose right up to the top of the tower, nearly all of 
+them asleep, though here and there a round amber 
+eye glared at Harry. He spotted Hedwig nestled 
+between a barn owl and a tawny, and hurried over to 
+her, sliding a little on the dropping-strewn floor. 
+
+It took him a while to persuade her to wake up and 
+then to look at him, as she kept shuffling around on 
+her perch, showing him her tail. She was evidently 
+still furious about his lack of gratitude the previous 
+night. In the end, it was Harry suggesting she might 
+be too tired, and that perhaps he would ask Ron to 
+borrow Pigwidgeon, that made her stick out her leg 
+and allow him to tie the letter to it. 
+
+“Just find him, all right?” Harry said, stroking her 
+back as he carried her on his arm to one of the holes 
+in the wall. “Before the dementors do.” 
+
+She nipped his finger, perhaps rather harder than she 
+would ordinarily have done, but hooted softly in a 
+reassuring sort of way all the same. Then she spread 
+her wings and took off into the sunrise. Harry 
+watched her fly out of sight with the familiar feeling of 
+unease back in his stomach. He had been so sure 
+that Sirius’s reply would alleviate his worries rather 
+than increasing them. 
+
+“That was a lie, Harry,” said Hermione sharply over 
+breakfast, when he told her and Ron what he had 
+
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+done. “You didn’t imagine your scar hurting and you 
+know it.” 
+
+“So what?” said Harry. “He’s not going back to 
+Azkaban because of me.” 
+
+“Drop it,” said Ron sharply to Hermione as she 
+opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, 
+Hermione heeded him, and fell silent. 
+
+Harry did his best not to worry about Sirius over the 
+next couple of weeks. True, he could not stop himself 
+from looking anxiously around every morning when 
+the post owls arrived, nor, late at night before he went 
+to sleep, prevent himself from seeing horrible visions 
+of Sirius, cornered by dementors down some dark 
+London street, but betweentimes he tried to keep his 
+mind off his godfather. He wished he still had 
+Quidditch to distract him; nothing worked so well on 
+a troubled mind as a good, hard training session. On 
+the other hand, their lessons were becoming more 
+difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly 
+Moody’s Defense Against the Dark Arts. 
+
+To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced 
+that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each 
+of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see 
+whether they could resist its effects. 
+
+“But — but you said it’s illegal, Professor,” said 
+Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the 
+desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear 
+space in the middle of the room. “You said — to use it 
+against another human was — ” 
+
+“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” 
+said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione 
+and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. “If 
+you’d rather learn the hard way — when someone’s 
+
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+putting it on you so they can control you completely 
+— fine by me. You’re excused. Off you go.” 
+
+He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. 
+Hermione went very pink and muttered something 
+about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry 
+and Ron grinned at each other. They knew Hermione 
+would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an 
+important lesson. 
+
+Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and 
+put the Imperius Curse upon them. Harry watched 
+as, one by one, his classmates did the most 
+extraordinary things under its influence. Dean 
+Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing 
+the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a 
+squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite 
+astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have 
+been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them 
+seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of 
+them recovered only when Moody had removed it. 
+
+“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.” 
+
+Harry moved forward into the middle of the 
+classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of 
+desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, 
+and said, “Imperio\” 
+
+It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating 
+sensation as every thought and worry in his head was 
+wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, 
+untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling 
+immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone 
+watching him. 
+
+And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody’s voice, echoing in 
+some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto 
+the desk . . . jump onto the desk. . . . 
+
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+Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring. 
+Jump onto the desk. ... 
+
+Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back 
+of his brain. 
+
+Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice. 
+
+Jump onto the desk. ... 
+
+No, I don’t think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a 
+little more firmly ... no, I don’t really want to. ... 
+
+Jump\ NOW 
+
+The next thing Harry felt was considerable pain. He 
+had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from 
+jumping — the result was that he’d smashed 
+headlong into the desk, knocking it over, and, by the 
+feeling in his legs, fractured both his kneecaps. 
+
+“Now, that’s more like it!” growled Moody’s voice, and 
+suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his 
+head disappear. He remembered exactly what was 
+happening, and the pain in his knees seemed to 
+double. 
+
+“Look at that, you lot ... Potter fought! He fought it, 
+and he damn near beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, 
+and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, 
+that’s where you see it — very good, Potter, very good 
+indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!” 
+
+
+
+“The way he talks,” Harry muttered as he hobbled out 
+of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour 
+later (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through 
+
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+
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+his paces four times in a row, until Harry could throw 
+off the curse entirely), “you’d think we were all going 
+to be attacked any second.” 
+
+“Yeah, I know,” said Ron, who was skipping on every 
+alternate step. He had had much more difficulty with 
+the curse than Harry, though Moody assured him the 
+effects would wear off by lunch-time. “Talk about 
+paranoid ...” Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder 
+to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and 
+went on. “No wonder they were glad to get shot of him 
+at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus 
+what he did to that witch who shouted ‘Boo’ behind 
+him on April Fools’ Day? And when are we supposed 
+to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with 
+everything else we’ve got to do?” 
+
+All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in 
+the amount of work they were required to do this 
+term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the 
+class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of 
+Transfiguration homework she had assigned. 
+
+“You are now entering a most important phase of your 
+magical education!” she told them, her eyes glinting 
+dangerously behind her square spectacles. “Your 
+Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer — ” 
+
+“We don’t take O.W.L.s till fifth year!” said Dean 
+Thomas indignantly. 
+
+“Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the 
+preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the 
+only person in this class who has managed to turn a 
+hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might 
+remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls 
+up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!” 
+
+
+
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+
+Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed 
+to be trying not to look too pleased with herself. 
+
+Harry and Ron were deeply amused when Professor 
+Trelawney told them that they had received top marks 
+for their homework in their next Divination class. She 
+read out large portions of their predictions, 
+commending them for their unflinching acceptance of 
+the horrors in store for them — but they were less 
+amused when she asked them to do the same thing 
+for the month after next; both of them were running 
+out of ideas for catastrophes. 
+
+Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught 
+History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on 
+the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. 
+Professor Snape was forcing them to research 
+antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had 
+hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before 
+Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor 
+Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in 
+preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms. 
+
+Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast- 
+Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace 
+given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. 
+Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their “project,” 
+suggested that they come down to his hut on 
+alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make 
+notes on their extraordinary behavior. 
+
+“I will not,” said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had 
+proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling 
+an extra- large toy out of his sack. “I see enough of 
+these foul things during lessons, thanks.” 
+
+Hagrid ’s smile faded off his face. 
+
+
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+
+“Yeh’ll do wha’yer told,” he growled, “or I’ll be takin’ a 
+leaf outta Professor Moody’s book. ... I hear yeh made 
+a good ferret, Malfoy.” 
+
+The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed 
+with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody’s 
+punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him 
+from retorting. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to 
+the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; 
+seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly 
+satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his 
+very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year. 
+
+When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found 
+themselves unable to proceed owing to the large 
+crowd of students congregated there, all milling 
+around a large sign that had been erected at the foot 
+of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the three, 
+stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them 
+and read the sign aloud to the other two: 
+
+TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 
+
+The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang 
+will be arriving at 6 o’clock on Friday the 30th of 
+October. Lessons will end half an hour early — 
+
+“Brilliant!” said Harry. “It’s Potions last thing on 
+Friday! Snape won’t have time to poison us all!” 
+
+Students will return their bags and books to their 
+dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to 
+greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast. 
+
+
+
+“Only a week away!” said Ernie Macmillan of 
+Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes 
+
+
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+gleaming. “I wonder if Cedric knows? Think 111 go and 
+tell him. ...” 
+
+
+
+“Cedric?” said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off. 
+
+“Diggory,” said Harry. “He must be entering the 
+tournament.” 
+
+“That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” said Ron as they 
+pushed their way through the chattering crowd 
+toward the staircase. 
+
+“He’s not an idiot. You just don’t like him because he 
+beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,” said Hermione. “I’ve 
+heard he’s a really good student — and he’s a 
+prefect.” 
+
+She spoke as though this settled the matter. 
+
+“You only like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron 
+scathingly. 
+
+“Excuse me, I don’t like people just because they’re 
+handsome!” said Hermione indignantly. 
+
+Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly 
+like “Lockhart\” 
+
+The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a 
+marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. 
+During the following week, there seemed to be only 
+one topic of conversation, no matter where Harry 
+went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying 
+from student to student like highly contagious germs: 
+who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what 
+the tournament would involve, how the students from 
+Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from 
+themselves. 
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+Harry noticed too that the castle seemed to be 
+undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy 
+portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure 
+of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames 
+muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw 
+pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly 
+gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus 
+Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to 
+any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he 
+terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. 
+
+Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too. 
+
+“Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can’t even 
+perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone 
+from Durmstrang!” Professor McGonagall barked at 
+the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during 
+which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own 
+ears onto a cactus. 
+
+When they went down to breakfast on the morning of 
+the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great 
+Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk 
+banners hung from the walls, each of them 
+representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion 
+for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for 
+Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, 
+and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind 
+the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the 
+Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake 
+united around a large letter H. 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and 
+George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most 
+unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else 
+and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to 
+them. 
+
+
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+
+“It’s a bummer, all right,” George was saying gloomily 
+to Fred. “But if he won’t talk to us in person, we’ll 
+have to send him the letter after all. Or we’ll stuff it 
+into his hand. He can’t avoid us forever.” 
+
+“Who’s avoiding you?” said Ron, sitting down next to 
+them. 
+
+“Wish you would,” said Fred, looking irritated at the 
+interruption. 
+
+“What’s a bummer?” Ron asked George. 
+
+“Having a nosy git like you for a brother,” said George. 
+
+“You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament 
+yet?” Harry asked. “Thought any more about trying to 
+enter?” 
+
+“I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen 
+but she wasn’t telling,” said George bitterly. “She just 
+told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my 
+raccoon.” 
+
+“Wonder what the tasks are going to be?” said Ron 
+thoughtfully. “You know, I bet we could do them, 
+Harry. We’ve done dangerous stuff before. ...” 
+
+“Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven’t,” said 
+Fred. “McGonagall says the champions get awarded 
+points according to how well they’ve done the tasks.” 
+
+“Who are the judges?” Harry asked. 
+
+“Well, the Heads of the participating schools are 
+always on the panel,” said Hermione, and everyone 
+looked around at her, rather surprised, “because all 
+three of them were injured during the Tournament of 
+
+
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+1792, when a cockatrice the champions were 
+supposed to be catching went on the rampage.” 
+
+She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her 
+usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all 
+the books she had, “It’s all in Hogwarts, A History. 
+Though, of course, that book’s not entirely reliable. A 
+Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more 
+accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective 
+History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier 
+Aspects of the School.” 
+
+“What are you on about?” said Ron, though Harry 
+thought he knew what was coming. 
+
+“ House-elves\” said Hermione, her eyes flashing. “Not 
+once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A 
+History mention that we are all colluding in the 
+oppression of a hundred slaves!” 
+
+Harry shook his head and applied himself to his 
+scrambled eggs. His and Ron’s lack of enthusiasm 
+had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione ’s 
+determination to pursue justice for house-elves. True, 
+both of them had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. 
+badge, but they had only done it to keep her quiet. 
+Their Sickles had been wasted, however; if anything, 
+they seemed to have made Hermione more vociferous. 
+She had been badgering Harry and Ron ever since, 
+first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do 
+the same, and she had also taken to rattling around 
+the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering 
+people and shaking the collecting tin under their 
+noses. 
+
+“You do realize that your sheets are changed, your 
+fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food 
+cooked by a group of magical creatures who are 
+unpaid and enslaved?” she kept saying fiercely. 
+
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+
+
+Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop 
+Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed 
+mildly interested in what she had to say, but were 
+reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. 
+Many regarded the whole thing as a joke. 
+
+Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was 
+flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred 
+became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins 
+had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, 
+however, leaned in toward Hermione. 
+
+“Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, 
+Hermione?” 
+
+“No, of course not,” said Hermione curtly, “I hardly 
+think students are supposed to — ” 
+
+“Well, we have,” said George, indicating Fred, “loads 
+of times, to nick food. And we’ve met them, and 
+they’re happy. They think they’ve got the best job in 
+the world — ” 
+
+“That’s because they’re uneducated and 
+brainwashed!” Hermione began hotly, but her next 
+few words were drowned out by the sudden 
+whooshing noise from overhead, which announced 
+the arrival of the post owls. Harry looked up at once, 
+and saw Hedwig soaring toward him. Hermione 
+stopped talking abruptly; she and Ron watched 
+Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry’s 
+shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg 
+wearily. 
+
+Harry pulled off Sirius’s reply and offered Hedwig his 
+bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking 
+that Fred and George were safely immersed in further 
+discussions about the Tri-wizard Tournament, Harry 
+
+
+
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+
+read out Sirius’s letter in a whisper to Ron and 
+Hermione. 
+
+
+
+Nice try, Harry. 
+
+I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to 
+keep me posted on everything that’s going on at 
+Hog warts. Don’t use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and 
+don’t worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don’t 
+forget what I said about your scar. 
+
+Sirius 
+
+“Why d’you have to keep changing owls?” Ron asked 
+in a low voice. 
+
+“Hedwig’ll attract too much attention,” said Hermione 
+at once. “She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps 
+returning to wherever he’s hiding ... I mean, they’re 
+not native birds, are they?” 
+
+Harry rolled up the letter and slipped it inside his 
+robes, wondering whether he felt more or less worried 
+than before. He supposed that Sirius managing to get 
+back without being caught was something. He 
+couldn’t deny either that the idea that Sirius was 
+much nearer was reassuring; at least he wouldn’t 
+have to wait so long for a response every time he 
+wrote. 
+
+“Thanks, Hedwig,” he said, stroking her. She hooted 
+sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of 
+orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for 
+a good long sleep in the Owlery. 
+
+There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air 
+that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being 
+much more interested in the arrival that evening of 
+the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even 
+
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+Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half 
+an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, 
+
+Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, 
+deposited their bags and books as they had been 
+instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back 
+downstairs into the entrance hall. 
+
+The Heads of Houses were ordering their students 
+into lines. 
+
+“Weasley, straighten your hat,” Professor McGonagall 
+snapped at Ron. “Miss Patil, take that ridiculous 
+thing out of your hair.” 
+
+Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental 
+butterfly from the end of her plait. 
+
+“Follow me, please,” said Professor McGonagall. “First 
+years in front ... no pushing. ...” 
+
+They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the 
+castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling 
+and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already 
+shining over the Forbidden Forest. Harry, standing 
+between Ron and Hermione in the fourth row from 
+the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering 
+with anticipation among the other first years. 
+
+“Nearly six,” said Ron, checking his watch and then 
+staring down the drive that led to the front gates. 
+“How d’you reckon they’re coming? The train?” 
+
+“I doubt it,” said Hermione. 
+
+“How, then? Broomsticks?” Harry suggested, looking 
+up at the starry sky. 
+
+“I don’t think so ... not from that far away. ...” 
+
+
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+“A Portkey?” Ron suggested. “Or they could Apparate 
+— maybe you’re allowed to do it under seventeen 
+wherever they come from?” 
+
+“You can’t Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, 
+how often do I have to tell you?” said Hermione 
+impatiently. 
+
+They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but 
+nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and 
+quite as usual. Harry was starting to feel cold. He 
+wished they’d hurry up. ... Maybe the foreign 
+students were preparing a dramatic entrance. ... He 
+remembered what Mr. Weasley had said back at the 
+campsite before the Quidditch World Cup: “always the 
+same — we can’t resist showing off when we get 
+together. ...” 
+
+And then Dumbledore called out from the back row 
+where he stood with the other teachers — 
+
+“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation 
+from Beauxbatons approaches!” 
+
+“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in 
+different directions. 
+
+“There!” yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest. 
+
+Something large, much larger than a broomstick — 
+or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling 
+across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing 
+larger all the time. 
+
+“It’s a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing 
+her head completely. 
+
+“Don’t be stupid ... it’s a flying house!” said Dennis 
+Creevey. 
+
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+
+Dennis’s guess was closer. ... As the gigantic black 
+shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden 
+Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows 
+hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn 
+carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward 
+them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged 
+horses, all palominos, and each the size of an 
+elephant. 
+
+The front three rows of students drew backward as 
+the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a 
+tremendous speed — then, with an almighty crash 
+that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin 
+fifth year’s foot, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner 
+plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage 
+landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the 
+golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled 
+large, fiery red eyes. 
+
+Harry just had time to see that the door of the 
+carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden 
+wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened. 
+
+A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the 
+carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with 
+something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of 
+golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then 
+Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging 
+from the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a 
+child’s sled — followed, almost immediately, by the 
+largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of 
+the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately 
+explained. A few people gasped. 
+
+Harry had only ever seen one person as large as this 
+woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; he doubted 
+whether there was an inch difference in their heights. 
+Yet somehow — maybe simply because he was used 
+to Hagrid — this woman (now at the foot of the steps, 
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+
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+
+and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) 
+seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped 
+into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was 
+revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; 
+large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky 
+nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at 
+the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to 
+foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals 
+gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers. 
+
+Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following 
+his lead, broke into applause too, many of them 
+standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. 
+
+Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked 
+forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering 
+hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to 
+bend to kiss it. 
+
+“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to 
+Hogwarts.” 
+
+“Dumbly-dorr,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. 
+“I ’ope I find you well?” 
+
+“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore. 
+
+“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her 
+enormous hands carelessly behind her. 
+
+Harry, whose attention had been focused completely 
+upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a 
+dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their 
+late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were 
+now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were 
+shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their 
+robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of 
+them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves 
+and shawls around their heads. From what Harry 
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+
+could see of them (they were standing in Madame 
+Maxime ’s enormous shadow), they were staring up at 
+Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces. 
+
+“ ’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked. 
+
+“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. 
+“Would you like to wait here and greet him or would 
+you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?” 
+
+“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze 
+’orses — ” 
+
+“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be 
+delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the 
+moment he has returned from dealing with a slight 
+situation that has arisen with some of his other — er 
+— charges.” 
+
+“Skrewts,” Ron muttered to Harry, grinning. 
+
+“My steeds require — er — forceful ’andling,” said 
+Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted 
+whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at 
+Hogwarts could be up to the job. “Zey are very strong. 
+
+
+
+“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” 
+said Dumbledore, smiling. 
+
+“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. 
+“Will you please inform zis ’Agrid zat ze ’orses drink 
+only single-malt whiskey?” 
+
+“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing. 
+
+“Come,” said Madame Maxime imperiously to her 
+students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her 
+and her students to pass up the stone steps. 
+
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+
+
+
+“How big d’you reckon Durmstrang’s horses are going 
+to be?” Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around 
+Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron. 
+
+“Well, if they’re any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid 
+won’t be able to handle them,” said Harry. “That’s if 
+he hasn’t been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder 
+what’s up with them?” 
+
+“Maybe they’ve escaped,” said Ron hopefully. 
+
+“Oh don’t say that,” said Hermione with a shudder. 
+“Imagine that lot loose on the grounds. ...” 
+
+They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the 
+Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing 
+hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the 
+silence was broken only by Madame Maxime’s huge 
+horses snorting and stamping. But then — 
+
+“Can you hear something?” said Ron suddenly. 
+
+Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was 
+drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a 
+muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an 
+immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a 
+riverbed. ... 
+
+“The lake!” yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. 
+“Look at the lake!” 
+
+From their position at the top of the lawns 
+overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the 
+smooth black surface of the water — except that the 
+surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some 
+disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great 
+bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now 
+washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in 
+the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if 
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+
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+
+a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s 
+floor. ... 
+
+What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise 
+slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool . . . and then 
+Harry saw the rigging. . . . 
+
+“It’s a mast!” he said to Ron and Hermione. 
+
+Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, 
+gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal 
+look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, 
+and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes 
+looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing 
+noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the 
+turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. 
+A few moments later, they heard the splash of an 
+anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the 
+thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank. 
+
+People were disembarking; they could see their 
+silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. 
+All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along 
+the lines of Crabbe and Goyle . . . but then, as they 
+drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light 
+streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their 
+bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing 
+cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the 
+man who was leading them up to the castle was 
+wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like 
+his hair. 
+
+“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the 
+slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?” 
+
+“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” 
+Dumbledore replied. 
+
+
+
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+
+Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he 
+stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of 
+the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like 
+Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his 
+goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide 
+his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, 
+he shook hands with both of his own. 
+
+“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle 
+and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry 
+noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, 
+which remained cold and shrewd. “How good it is to 
+be here, how good. ... Viktor, come along, into the 
+warmth ... you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a 
+slight head cold. ...” 
+
+Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As 
+the boy passed, Harry caught a glimpse of a 
+prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He 
+didn’t need the punch on the arm Ron gave him, or 
+the hiss in his ear, to recognize that profile. 
+
+“Harry — it’s Krum\” 
+
+
+
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+t'fyfflapier- l6 
+
+
+
+
+THE GOBLET OF FIRE 
+
+“I don’t believe it!” Ron said, in a stunned voice, as 
+the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind 
+the party from Durmstrang. “Krum, Harry! Viktor 
+Kruml” 
+
+“For heaven’s sake, Ron, he’s only a Quidditch 
+player,” said Hermione. 
+
+“Only a Quidditch player?” Ron said, looking at her as 
+though he couldn’t believe his ears. “Hermione — he’s 
+one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he 
+was still at school!” 
+
+As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of 
+the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, 
+Harry saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the 
+soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of 
+Krum’s head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically 
+searching their pockets as they walked — 
+
+“Oh I don’t believe it, I haven’t got a single quill on me 
+
+?? 
+
+
+
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+
+“D’you think he’d sign my hat in lipstick?” 
+
+
+
+“Really,” Hermione said loftily as they passed the 
+girls, now squabbling over the lipstick. 
+
+“I’m getting his autograph if I can,” said Ron. “You 
+haven’t got a quill, have you, Harry?” 
+
+“Nope, they’re upstairs in my bag,” said Harry. 
+
+They walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat 
+down. Ron took care to sit on the side facing the 
+doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang 
+students were still gathered around it, apparently 
+unsure about where they should sit. The students 
+from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw 
+table. They were looking around the Great Hall with 
+glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were 
+still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads. 
+
+“It’s not that cold,” said Hermione defensively. “Why 
+didn’t they bring cloaks?” 
+
+“Over here! Come and sit over here!” Ron hissed. 
+
+“Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space — ” 
+
+“What?” 
+
+“Too late,” said Ron bitterly. 
+
+Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had 
+settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Harry could 
+see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug 
+about this. As he watched, Malfoy bent forward to 
+speak to Krum. 
+
+“Yeah, that’s right, smarm up to him, Malfoy,” said 
+Ron scathingly. “I bet Krum can see right through 
+him, though ... bet he gets people fawning over him 
+
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+all the time. ... Where d’you reckon they’re going to 
+sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, 
+Harry ... I wouldn’t mind giving him my bed, I could 
+kip on a camp bed.” 
+
+Hermione snorted. 
+
+“They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot,” 
+said Harry. 
+
+The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy 
+furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with 
+expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking 
+up the golden plates and goblets and examining 
+them, apparently impressed. 
+
+Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding 
+chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in 
+honor of the occasion. Harry was surprised to see 
+that he added four chairs, two on either side of 
+Dumbledore’s. 
+
+“But there are only two extra people,” Harry said. 
+“Why’s Filch putting out four chairs, who else is 
+coming?” 
+
+“Eh?” said Ron vaguely. He was still staring avidly at 
+Krum. 
+
+When all the students had entered the Hall and 
+settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, 
+filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last 
+in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor 
+Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their 
+headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons 
+leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students 
+laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite 
+unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their 
+seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on 
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+Dumbledore ’s left-hand side. Dumbledore remained 
+standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall. 
+
+“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — 
+most particularly — guests,” said Dumbledore, 
+beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great 
+pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and 
+trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and 
+enjoyable.” 
+
+One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler 
+around her head gave what was unmistakably a 
+derisive laugh. 
+
+“No one’s making you stay!” Hermione whispered, 
+bristling at her. 
+
+“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of 
+the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to 
+eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!” 
+
+He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at 
+once and engage him in conversation. 
+
+The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. 
+The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled 
+out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes 
+in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including 
+several that were definitely foreign. 
+
+“What’s that?” said Ron, pointing at a large dish of 
+some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large 
+steak-and-kidney pudding. 
+
+“Bouillabaisse,” said Hermione. 
+
+“Bless you,” said Ron. 
+
+
+
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+“It’s French,” said Hermione, “I had it on holiday 
+summer before last. It’s very nice.” 
+
+“I’ll take your word for it,” said Ron, helping himself 
+to black pudding. 
+
+The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded 
+than usual, even though there were barely twenty 
+additional students there; perhaps it was because 
+their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly 
+against the black of the Hogwarts’ robes. Now that 
+they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang 
+students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep 
+bloodred. 
+
+Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the 
+staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. 
+He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, 
+Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged 
+hand. 
+
+“Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?” Harry called. 
+
+“Thrivin’,” Hagrid called back happily. 
+
+“Yeah, I’ll just bet they are,” said Ron quietly. “Looks 
+like they’ve finally found a food they like, doesn’t it? 
+Hagrid ’s fingers.” 
+
+At that moment, a voice said, “Excuse me, are you 
+wanting ze bouillabaisse?” 
+
+It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed 
+during Dumbledore’s speech. She had finally removed 
+her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell 
+almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, 
+and very white, even teeth. 
+
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+Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his 
+mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint 
+gurgling noise. 
+
+“Yeah, have it,” said Harry, pushing the dish toward 
+the girl. 
+
+“You ’ave finished wiz it?” 
+
+“Yeah,” Ron said breathlessly. “Yeah, it was 
+excellent.” 
+
+The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off 
+to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the 
+girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry 
+started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back 
+to his senses. 
+
+“She’s a veelcd” he said hoarsely to Harry. 
+
+“Of course she isn’t!” said Hermione tartly. “I don’t see 
+anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!” 
+
+But she wasn’t entirely right about that. As the girl 
+crossed the Hall, many boys’ heads turned, and some 
+of them seemed to have become temporarily 
+speechless, just like Ron. 
+
+“I’m telling you, that’s not a normal girl!” said Ron, 
+leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. 
+“They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!” 
+
+“They make them okay at Hogwarts,” said Harry 
+without thinking. Cho happened to be sitting only a 
+few places away from the girl with the silvery hair. 
+
+“When you’ve both put your eyes back in,” said 
+Hermione briskly, “you’ll be able to see who’s just 
+arrived.” 
+
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+She was pointing up at the staff table. The two 
+remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo 
+Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff’s 
+other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy’s boss, was next 
+to Madame Maxime. 
+
+“What are they doing here?” said Harry in surprise. 
+
+“They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn’t 
+they?” said Hermione. “I suppose they wanted to be 
+here to see it start.” 
+
+When the second course arrived they noticed a 
+number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an 
+odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it 
+carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be 
+clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who 
+looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, 
+however, and did not come over to get it. 
+
+Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, 
+Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of 
+tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight 
+thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. 
+Several seats down from them, Fred and George were 
+leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great 
+concentration. 
+
+“The moment has come,” said Dumbledore, smiling 
+around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard 
+Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few 
+words of explanation before we bring in the casket — ” 
+
+“The what?” Harry muttered. 
+
+Ron shrugged. 
+
+“ — just to clarify the procedure that we will be 
+following this year. But first, let me introduce, for 
+
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+those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, 
+Head of the Department of International Magical 
+Cooperation” — there was a smattering of polite 
+applause — “and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the 
+Department of Magical Games and Sports.” 
+
+There was a much louder round of applause for 
+Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his 
+fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so 
+much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial 
+wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or 
+wave when his name was announced. Remembering 
+him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, 
+Harry thought he looked strange in wizard’s robes. 
+
+His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked 
+very odd next to Dumbledore’s long white hair and 
+beard. 
+
+“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly 
+over the last few months on the arrangements for the 
+Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and 
+they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and 
+Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the 
+champions’ efforts.” 
+
+At the mention of the word “champions,” the 
+attentiveness of the listening students seemed to 
+sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their 
+sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The 
+casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.” 
+
+Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner 
+of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a 
+great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked 
+extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from 
+the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood 
+on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his 
+head hardly rose above anyone else’s. 
+
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+“The instructions for the tasks the champions will 
+face this year have already been examined by Mr. 
+Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch 
+placed the chest carefully on the table before him, 
+
+“and they have made the necessary arrangements for 
+each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced 
+throughout the school year, and they will test the 
+champions in many different ways . . . their magical 
+prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction 
+— and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.” 
+
+At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so 
+absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. 
+
+“As you know, three champions compete in the 
+tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from 
+each of the participating schools. They will be marked 
+on how well they perform each of the Tournament 
+tasks and the champion with the highest total after 
+task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions 
+will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of 
+Fire.” 
+
+Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three 
+times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked 
+slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled 
+out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have 
+been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the 
+brim with dancing blue-white flames. 
+
+Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet 
+carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible 
+to everyone in the Hall. 
+
+“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion 
+must write their name and school clearly upon a slip 
+of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said 
+Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four 
+hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow 
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+night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of 
+the three it has judged most worthy to represent their 
+schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall 
+tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those 
+wishing to compete. 
+
+“To ensure that no underage student yields to 
+temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an 
+Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been 
+placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of 
+seventeen will be able to cross this line. 
+
+“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to 
+compete that this tournament is not to be entered 
+into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by 
+the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the 
+tournament through to the end. The placing of your 
+name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical 
+contract. There can be no change of heart once you 
+have become a champion. Please be very sure, 
+therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to 
+play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, 
+
+I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.” 
+
+“An Age Line!” Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as 
+they all made their way across the Hall to the doors 
+into the entrance hall. “Well, that should be fooled by 
+an Aging Potion, shouldn’t it? And once your name’s 
+in that goblet, you’re laughing — it can’t tell whether 
+you’re seventeen or not!” 
+
+“But I don’t think anyone under seventeen will stand 
+a chance,” said Hermione, “we just haven’t learned 
+enough ...” 
+
+“Speak for yourself,” said George shortly. “You’ll try 
+and get in, won’t you, Harry?” 
+
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+Harry thought briefly of Dumbledore ’s insistence that 
+nobody under seventeen should submit their name, 
+but then the wonderful picture of himself winning the 
+Triwizard Tournament filled his mind again. ... He 
+wondered how angry Dumbledore would be if 
+someone younger than seventeen did find a way to get 
+over the Age Line. ... 
+
+“Where is he?” said Ron, who wasn’t listening to a 
+word of this conversation, but looking through the 
+crowd to see what had become of Krum. “Dumbledore 
+didn’t say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, 
+did he?” 
+
+But this query was answered almost instantly; they 
+were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff 
+had just bustled up to his students. 
+
+“Back to the ship, then,” he was saying. “Viktor, how 
+are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send 
+for some mulled wine from the kitchens?” 
+
+Harry saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs 
+back on. 
+
+“Professor, I vood like some vine,” said one of the 
+other Durmstrang boys hopefully. 
+
+“I wasn’t offering it to you, Poliakoff,” snapped 
+Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an 
+instant. “I notice you have dribbled food all down the 
+front of your robes again, disgusting boy — ” 
+
+Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the 
+doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as 
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry stopped to let him 
+walk through first. 
+
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+“Thank you,” said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at 
+him. 
+
+And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to 
+Harry and stared at him as though he couldn’t believe 
+his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from 
+Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff s eyes 
+moved slowly up Harry’s face and fixed upon his scar. 
+The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at 
+Harry too. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw 
+comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy 
+with food all down his front nudged the girl next to 
+him and pointed openly at Harry’s forehead. 
+
+“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” said a growling voice from 
+behind them. 
+
+Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody 
+was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his 
+magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang 
+headmaster. 
+
+The color drained from Karkaroff’s face as Harry 
+watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came 
+over him. 
+
+“You!” he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he 
+was really seeing him. 
+
+“Me,” said Moody grimly. “And unless you’ve got 
+anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want 
+to move. You’re blocking the doorway.” 
+
+It was true; half the students in the Hall were now 
+waiting behind them, looking over one another’s 
+shoulders to see what was causing the holdup. 
+
+Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his 
+students away with him. Moody watched him until he 
+
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+was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, 
+a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face. 
+
+
+
+As the next day was Saturday, most students would 
+normally have breakfasted late. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione, however, were not alone in rising much 
+earlier than they usually did on weekends. When they 
+went down into the entrance hall, they saw about 
+twenty people milling around it, some of them eating 
+toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. 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. 
+
+“Anyone put their name in yet?” Ron asked a third- 
+year girl eagerly. 
+
+“All the Durmstrang lot,” she replied. “But I haven’t 
+seen anyone from Hogwarts yet.” 
+
+“Bet some of them put it in last night after we’d all 
+gone to bed,” said Harry. “I would’ve if it had been me 
+... wouldn’t have wanted everyone watching. What if 
+the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?” 
+
+Someone laughed behind Harry. 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 whisper to Harry, 
+Ron, and Hermione. “Just taken it.” 
+
+“What?” said Ron. 
+
+“The Aging Potion, dung brains,” said Fred. 
+
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+“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.” 
+
+Fred, George, and Lee ignored her. 
+
+“Ready?” Fred said to the other two, quivering with 
+excitement. “C’mon, then — I’ll go first — ” 
+
+Harry watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of 
+parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred 
+Weasley — Hog warts. Fred walked right up to the 
+edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes 
+like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with 
+the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon 
+him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line. 
+
+For a split second Harry thought it had worked — 
+George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of 
+triumph and leapt after Fred — but next moment, 
+there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were 
+hurled out of the golden circle as though they had 
+been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed 
+painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to 
+add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, 
+and both of them sprouted identical long white 
+beards. 
+
+The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and 
+George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet 
+and taken a good look at each other’s beards. 
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+“I did warn you,” said a deep, amused voice, and 
+everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming 
+out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, 
+his eyes twinkling. “I suggest you both go up to 
+Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss 
+Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of 
+Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves 
+up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their 
+beards is anything like as fine as yours.” 
+
+Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, 
+accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, 
+and Harry, Ron, and Hermione, also chortling, went 
+in to breakfast. 
+
+The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this 
+morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was 
+fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while 
+hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every 
+corner. Harry led the way over to Dean and Seamus, 
+who were discussing those Hogwarts students of 
+seventeen or over who might be entering. 
+
+“There’s a rumor going around that Warrington got up 
+early and put his name in,” Dean told Harry. “That 
+big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth.” 
+
+Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington, 
+shook his head in disgust. 
+
+“We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” 
+
+“And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory,” 
+said Seamus contemptuously. “But I wouldn’t have 
+thought he’d have wanted to risk his good looks.” 
+
+“Listen!” said Hermione suddenly. 
+
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+People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all 
+swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina 
+Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an 
+embarrassed sort of way. A tall black girl who played 
+Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina 
+came over to them, sat down, and said, “Well, I’ve 
+done it! Just put my name in!” 
+
+“You’re kidding!” said Ron, looking impressed. 
+
+“Are you seventeen, then?” asked Harry. 
+
+“ ’Course she is, can’t see a beard, can you?” said 
+Ron. 
+
+“I had my birthday last week,” said Angelina. 
+
+“Well, I’m glad someone from Gryffindor’s entering,” 
+said Hermione. “I really hope you get it, Angelina!” 
+
+“Thanks, Hermione,” said Angelina, smiling at her. 
+
+“Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory,” said 
+Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their 
+table to scowl heavily at him. 
+
+“What’re we going to do today, then?” Ron asked 
+Harry and Hermione when they had finished 
+breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall. 
+
+“We haven’t been down to visit Hagrid yet,” said 
+Harry. 
+
+“Okay,” said Ron, “just as long as he doesn’t ask us to 
+donate a few fingers to the skrewts.” 
+
+A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on 
+Hermione ’s face. 
+
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+“I’ve just realized — I haven’t asked Hagrid to join 
+S.P.E.W. yet!” she said brightly. “Wait for me, will 
+you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?” 
+
+“What is it with her?” said Ron, exasperated, as 
+Hermione ran away up the marble staircase. 
+
+“Hey, Ron,” said Harry suddenly. “It’s your friend ...” 
+
+The students from Beauxbatons were coming through 
+the front doors from the grounds, among them, the 
+veela-girl. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire 
+stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly. 
+
+Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students 
+and organized them into a line. One by one, the 
+Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line 
+and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue- 
+white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned 
+briefly red and emitted sparks. 
+
+“What d’you reckon’ll happen to the ones who aren’t 
+chosen?” Ron muttered to Harry as the veela-girl 
+dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. 
+“Reckon they’ll go back to school, or hang around to 
+watch the tournament?” 
+
+“Dunno,” said Harry. “Hang around, I suppose. ... 
+Madame Maxime’s staying to judge, isn’t she?” 
+
+When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted 
+their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of 
+the hall and out onto the grounds again. 
+
+“Where are they sleeping, then?” said Ron, moving 
+toward the front doors and staring after them. 
+
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+A loud rattling noise behind them announced 
+Hermione’s reappearance with the box of S.P.E.W. 
+badges. 
+
+“Oh good, hurry up,” said Ron, and he jumped down 
+the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of the 
+veela-girl, who was now halfway across the lawn with 
+Madame Maxime. 
+
+As they neared Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the 
+Forbidden Forest, the mystery of the Beauxbatons’ 
+sleeping quarters was solved. The gigantic powder- 
+blue carriage in which they had arrived had been 
+parked two hundred yards from Hagrid’s front door, 
+and the students were climbing back inside it. The 
+elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage 
+were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it. 
+
+Harry knocked on Hagrid’s door, and Fang’s booming 
+barks answered instantly 
+
+“ ’Bout time!” said Hagrid, when he’d flung open the 
+door. “Thought you lot’d forgotten where I live!” 
+
+“We’ve been really busy, Hag — ” Hermione started to 
+say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, 
+apparently lost for words. 
+
+Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy 
+brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. 
+
+This wasn’t the worst of it, though; he had evidently 
+tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what 
+appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down 
+into two bunches — perhaps he had tried a ponytail 
+like Bill’s, but found he had too much hair. The look 
+didn’t really suit Hagrid at all. For a moment, 
+Hermione goggled at him, then, obviously deciding 
+not to comment, she said, “Erm — where are the 
+skrewts?” 
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+“Out by the pumpkin patch,” said Hagrid happily. 
+“They’re gettin’ massive, mus’ be nearly three foot 
+long now. On’y trouble is, they’ve started killin’ each 
+other.” 
+
+“Oh no, really?” said Hermione, shooting a repressive 
+look at Ron, who, staring at Hagrid’s odd hairstyle, 
+had just opened his mouth to say something about it. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Hagrid sadly. “ ’S’ okay, though, I’ve got 
+’em in separate boxes now. Still got abou’ twenty.” 
+
+“Well, that’s lucky,” said Ron. Hagrid missed the 
+sarcasm. 
+
+Hagrid’s cabin comprised a single room, in one corner 
+of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork 
+quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs 
+stood in front of the fire beneath the quantity of cured 
+hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. They 
+sat down at the table while Hagrid started to make 
+tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion 
+of the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid seemed quite as 
+excited about it as they were. 
+
+“You wait,” he said, grinning. “You jus’ wait. Yer going 
+ter see some stuff yeh’ve never seen before. Firs’ task 
+... ah, but I’m not supposed ter say.” 
+
+“Go on, Hagrid!” Harry, Ron, and Hermione urged 
+him, but he just shook his head, grinning. 
+
+“I don’ want ter spoil it fer yeh,” said Hagrid. “But it’s 
+gonna be spectacular, I’ll tell yeh that. Them 
+champions ’re going ter have their work cut out. Never 
+thought I’d live ter see the Triwizard Tournament 
+played again!” 
+
+
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+They ended up having lunch with Hagrid, though they 
+didn’t eat much — Hagrid had made what he said was 
+a beef casserole, but after Hermione unearthed a 
+large talon in hers, she, Harry, and Ron rather lost 
+their appetites. However, they enjoyed themselves 
+trying to make Hagrid tell them what the tasks in the 
+tournament were going to be, speculating which of 
+the entrants were likely to be selected as champions, 
+and wondering whether Fred and George were 
+beardless yet. 
+
+A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon; it was 
+very cozy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle 
+patter of the drops on the window, watching Hagrid 
+darning his socks and arguing with Hermione about 
+house-elves — for he flatly refused to join S.P.E.W. 
+when she showed him her badges. 
+
+“It’d be doin’ ’em an unkindness, Hermione,” he said 
+gravely, threading a massive bone needle with thick 
+yellow yarn. “It’s in their nature ter look after 
+humans, that’s what they like, see? Yeh’d be makin’ 
+’em unhappy ter take away their work, an’ insultin’ 
+’em if yeh tried ter pay ’em.” 
+
+“But Harry set Dobby free, and he was over the moon 
+about it!” said Hermione. “And we heard he’s asking 
+for wages now!” 
+
+“Yeah, well, yeh get weirdos in every breed. I’m not 
+sayin’ there isn’t the odd elf who’d take freedom, but 
+yeh’ll never persuade most of ’em ter do it — no, 
+nothin’ doin’, Hermione.” 
+
+Hermione looked very cross indeed and stuffed her 
+box of badges back into her cloak pocket. 
+
+By half past five it was growing dark, and Ron, Harry, 
+and Hermione decided it was time to get back up to 
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+the castle for the Halloween feast — and, more 
+important, the announcement of the school 
+champions. 
+
+“I’ll come with yeh,” said Hagrid, putting away his 
+darning. “Jus’ give us a sec.” 
+
+Hagrid got up, went across to the chest of drawers 
+beside his bed, and began searching for something 
+inside it. They didn’t pay too much attention until a 
+truly horrible smell reached their nostrils. Coughing, 
+Ron said, “Hagrid, what’s that?” 
+
+“Eh?” said Hagrid, turning around with a large bottle 
+in his hand. “Don’ yeh like it?” 
+
+“Is that aftershave?” said Hermione in a slightly 
+choked voice. 
+
+“Er — eau de cologne,” Hagrid muttered. He was 
+blushing. “Maybe it’s a bit much,” he said gruffly. “I’ll 
+go take it off, hang on . . . 
+
+He stumped out of the cabin, and they saw him 
+washing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside 
+the window. 
+
+“Eau de cologne?” said Hermione in amazement. 
+“Hagrid?” 
+
+“And what’s with the hair and the suit?” said Harry in 
+an undertone. 
+
+“Look!” said Ron suddenly, pointing out of the 
+window. 
+
+Hagrid had just straightened up and turned ’round. If 
+he had been blushing before, it was nothing to what 
+he was doing now. Getting to their feet very 
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+cautiously, so that Hagrid wouldn’t spot them, Harry, 
+Ron, and Hermione peered through the window and 
+saw that Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons 
+students had just emerged from their carriage, clearly 
+about to set off for the feast too. They couldn’t hear 
+what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to 
+Madame Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression 
+Harry had only ever seen him wear once before — 
+when he had been looking at the baby dragon, 
+
+Norbert. 
+
+“He’s going up to the castle with her!” said Hermione 
+indignantly. “I thought he was waiting for us!” 
+
+Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, 
+Hagrid was trudging off up the grounds with Madame 
+Maxime, the Beauxbatons students following in their 
+wake, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides. 
+
+“He fancies her!” said Ron incredulously. “Well, if they 
+end up having children, they’ll be setting a world 
+record — bet any baby of theirs would weigh about a 
+ton.” 
+
+They let themselves out of the cabin and shut the 
+door behind them. It was surprisingly dark outside. 
+Drawing their cloaks more closely around themselves, 
+they set off up the sloping lawns. 
+
+“Ooh it’s them, look!” Hermione whispered. 
+
+The Durmstrang party was walking up toward the 
+castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by 
+side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang 
+students were straggling along behind them. Ron 
+watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look 
+around as he reached the front doors a little ahead of 
+Hermione, Ron, and Harry and proceeded through 
+them. 
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+When they entered the candlelit Great Hall it was 
+almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was 
+now standing in front of Dumbledore ’s empty chair at 
+the teachers’ table. Fred and George — clean-shaven 
+again — seemed to have taken their disappointment 
+fairly well. 
+
+“Hope it’s Angelina,” said Fred as Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione sat down. 
+
+“So do I!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Well, we’ll 
+soon know!” 
+
+The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than 
+usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in 
+two days, Harry didn’t seem to fancy the 
+extravagantly prepared food as much as he would 
+have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging 
+by the constantly craning necks, the impatient 
+expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the 
+standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished 
+eating yet, Harry simply wanted the plates to clear, 
+and to hear who had been selected as champions. 
+
+At long last, the golden plates returned to their 
+original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in 
+the level of noise within the Hall, which died away 
+almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On 
+either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame 
+Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. 
+Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various 
+students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite 
+uninterested, almost bored. 
+
+“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” 
+said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one 
+more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are 
+called, I would ask them please to come up to the top 
+of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through 
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+
+into the next chamber” — he indicated the door 
+behind the staff table — “where they will be receiving 
+their first instructions.” 
+
+He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave 
+with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the 
+carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them 
+into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now 
+shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, 
+the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames 
+almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, 
+waiting. ... A few people kept checking their watches. 
+
+
+
+“Any second,” Lee Jordan whispered, two seats away 
+from Harry. 
+
+The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red 
+again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a 
+tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of 
+parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room 
+gasped. 
+
+Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held 
+it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light 
+of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white. 
+
+“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, 
+clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.” 
+
+“No surprises there!” yelled Ron as a storm of 
+applause and cheering swept the Hall. Harry saw 
+Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch 
+up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along 
+the staff table, and disappeared through the door into 
+the next chamber. 
+
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+“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that 
+everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. 
+“Knew you had it in you!” 
+
+The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s 
+attention was focused again on the goblet, which, 
+seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece 
+of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames. 
+
+“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, 
+
+“is Fleur Delacour!” 
+
+“It’s her, Ron!” Harry shouted as the girl who so 
+resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook 
+back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up 
+between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. 
+
+“Oh look, they’re all disappointed,” Hermione said 
+over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the 
+Beauxbatons party. “Disappointed” was a bit of an 
+understatement, Harry thought. Two of the girls who 
+had not been selected had dissolved into tears and 
+were sobbing with their heads on their arms. 
+
+When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side 
+chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a 
+silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste 
+it. The Hogwarts champion next ... 
+
+And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks 
+showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into 
+the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third 
+piece of parchment. 
+
+“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric 
+Diggory!” 
+
+“No!” said Ron loudly, but nobody heard him except 
+Harry; the uproar from the next table was too great. 
+
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+Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, 
+screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way 
+past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward 
+the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Indeed, the 
+applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some 
+time before Dumbledore could make himself heard 
+again. 
+
+“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as at last the 
+tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three 
+champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, 
+including the remaining students from Beauxbatons 
+and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce 
+of support you can muster. By cheering your 
+champion on, you will contribute in a very real — ” 
+
+But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it 
+was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. 
+
+The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. 
+Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot 
+suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another 
+piece of parchment. 
+
+Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a 
+long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out 
+and stared at the name written upon it. There was a 
+long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the 
+slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at 
+Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat 
+and read out — 
+
+“ Harry Potter.” 
+
+
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+THE FOUR CHAMPIONS 
+
+Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great 
+Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He 
+felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard 
+correctly. 
+
+There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry 
+bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were 
+standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, 
+frozen, in his seat. 
+
+Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to 
+her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor 
+Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor 
+Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning 
+slightly. 
+
+Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he 
+saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, 
+openmouthed. 
+
+“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You 
+know I didn’t.” 
+
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+
+Both of them stared just as blankly back. 
+
+At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had 
+straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall. 
+
+“Harry Potter!” he called again. “Harry! Up here, if you 
+please!” 
+
+“Go on,” Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight 
+push. 
+
+Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, 
+and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between 
+the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an 
+immensely long walk; the top table didn’t seem to be 
+getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds 
+and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were 
+a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. 
+After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front 
+of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers 
+upon him. 
+
+“Well ... through the door, Harry,” said Dumbledore. 
+He wasn’t smiling. 
+
+Harry moved off along the teachers’ table. Hagrid was 
+seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or 
+wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He 
+looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as 
+he passed like everyone else. Harry went through the 
+door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a 
+smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and 
+wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace 
+opposite him. 
+
+The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he 
+entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame 
+of her picture and into the one next to it, which 
+
+
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+contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The 
+wizened witch started whispering in his ear. 
+
+Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour 
+were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely 
+impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, 
+hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the 
+mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric 
+was standing with his hands behind his back, staring 
+into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when 
+Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, 
+silvery hair. 
+
+“What is it?” she said. “Do zey want us back in ze 
+Hall?” 
+
+She thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry 
+didn’t know how to explain what had just happened. 
+He just stood there, looking at the three champions. It 
+struck him how very tall all of them were. 
+
+There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and 
+Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the 
+arm and led him forward. 
+
+“Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing Harry’s arm. 
+“Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen ... lady,” he 
+added, approaching the fireside and addressing the 
+other three. “May I introduce — incredible though it 
+may seem — the fourth Triwizard champion?” 
+
+Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened 
+as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He 
+looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as 
+though sure he must have misheard what Bagman 
+had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, 
+smiling, and said, “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester 
+Bagman.” 
+
+
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+
+“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at 
+all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!” 
+
+Krum’s thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was 
+still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned. 
+
+“But evidently zair ’as been a mistake,” she said 
+contemptuously to Bagman. “ ’E cannot compete. ’E is 
+too young.” 
+
+“Well ... it is amazing,” said Bagman, rubbing his 
+smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. “But, as you 
+know, the age restriction was only imposed this year 
+as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come 
+out of the goblet ... I mean, I don’t think there can be 
+any ducking out at this stage. ... It’s down in the 
+rules, you’re obliged ... Harry will just have to do the 
+best he — ” 
+
+The door behind them opened again, and a large 
+group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, 
+followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, 
+Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and 
+Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the 
+hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, 
+before Professor McGonagall closed the door. 
+
+“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to 
+her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is 
+to compete also!” 
+
+Somewhere under Harry’s numb disbelief he felt a 
+ripple of anger. Little boy ? 
+
+Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, 
+and considerable, height. The top of her handsome 
+head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her 
+gigantic black-satin bosom swelled. 
+
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+“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said 
+imperiously. 
+
+“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” 
+said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely 
+smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. “Two 
+Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone 
+telling me the host school is allowed two champions 
+— or have I not read the rules carefully enough?” 
+
+He gave a short and nasty laugh. 
+
+“C’est impossible,” said Madame Maxime, whose 
+enormous hand with its many superb opals was 
+resting upon Fleur’s shoulder. “ ’Ogwarts cannot ’ave 
+two champions. It is most injust.” 
+
+“We were under the impression that your Age Line 
+would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” 
+said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though 
+his eyes were colder than ever. “Otherwise, we would, 
+of course, have brought along a wider selection of 
+candidates from our own schools.” 
+
+“It’s no one’s fault but Potter’s, Karkaroff,” said Snape 
+softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. “Don’t 
+go blaming Dumbledore for Potter’s determination to 
+break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he 
+arrived here — ” 
+
+“Thank you, Severus,” said Dumbledore firmly, and 
+Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted 
+malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair. 
+
+Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at 
+Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern 
+the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon 
+spectacles. 
+
+
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+
+“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, 
+Harry?” he asked calmly. 
+
+“No,” said Harry. He was very aware of everybody 
+watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of 
+impatient disbelief in the shadows. 
+
+“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet 
+of Fire for you?” said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring 
+Snape. 
+
+“No,” said Harry vehemently. 
+
+“Ah, but of course ’e is lying!” cried Madame Maxime. 
+Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling. 
+
+“He could not have crossed the Age Line,” said 
+Professor McGonagall sharply. “I am sure we are all 
+agreed on that — ” 
+
+“Dumbly-dorr must ’ave made a mistake wiz ze line,” 
+said Madame Maxime, shrugging. 
+
+“It is possible, of course,” said Dumbledore politely 
+
+“Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not 
+make a mistake!” said Professor McGonagall angrily. 
+“Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed 
+the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore 
+believes that he did not persuade an older student to 
+do it for him, I’m sure that should be good enough for 
+everybody else!” 
+
+She shot a very angry look at Professor Snape. 
+
+“Mr. Crouch ... Mr. Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice 
+unctuous once more, “you are our — er — objective 
+judges. Surely you will agree that this is most 
+irregular?” 
+
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+Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his 
+handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was 
+standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face 
+half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the 
+half darkness making him look much older, giving 
+him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, 
+however, it was in his usual curt voice. 
+
+“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly 
+that those people whose names come out of the 
+Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the 
+tournament.” 
+
+“Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,” said 
+Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and 
+Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now 
+closed. 
+
+“I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of 
+my students,” said Karkaroff. He had dropped his 
+unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a 
+very ugly look indeed. “You will set up the Goblet of 
+Fire once more, and we will continue adding names 
+until each school has two champions. It’s only fair, 
+Dumbledore.” 
+
+“But Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that,” said 
+Bagman. “The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out — it won’t 
+reignite until the start of the next tournament — ” 
+
+“ — in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be 
+competing!” exploded Karkaroff. “After all our 
+meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little 
+expected something of this nature to occur! I have 
+half a mind to leave now!” 
+
+“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” growled a voice from near 
+the door. “You can’t leave your champion now. He’s 
+got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding 
+
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+
+magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, 
+eh?” 
+
+
+
+Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward 
+the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a 
+loud clunk. 
+
+“Convenient?” said Karkaroff. “I’m afraid I don’t 
+understand you, Moody.” 
+
+Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as 
+though what Moody was saying was barely worth his 
+notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled 
+themselves into fists. 
+
+“Don’t you?” said Moody quietly. “It’s very simple, 
+Karkaroff. Someone put Potter’s name in that goblet 
+knowing he’d have to compete if it came out.” 
+
+“Evidently, someone ’oo wished to give ’Ogwarts two 
+bites at ze apple!” said Madame Maxime. 
+
+“I quite agree, Madame Maxime,” said Karkaroff, 
+bowing to her. “I shall be lodging complaints with the 
+Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation 
+of Wizards — ” 
+
+“If anyone’s got reason to complain, it’s Potter,” 
+growled Moody, “but ... funny thing ... I don’t hear 
+him saying a word. ...” 
+
+“Why should ’e complain?” burst out Fleur Delacour, 
+stamping her foot. “ ’E ’as ze chance to compete, ’asn’t 
+’e? We ’ave all been ’oping to be chosen for weeks and 
+weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons 
+in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for!” 
+
+“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” 
+said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl. 
+
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+
+An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo 
+Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, 
+bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, 
+“Moody, old man ... what a thing to say!” 
+
+“We all know Professor Moody considers the morning 
+wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him 
+before lunchtime,” said Karkaroff loudly. “Apparently 
+he is now teaching his students to fear assassination 
+too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark 
+Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your 
+reasons.” 
+
+“Imagining things, am I?” growled Moody. “Seeing 
+things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put 
+the boy’s name in that goblet. ...” 
+
+“Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?” said Madame 
+Maxime, throwing up her huge hands. 
+
+“Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical 
+object!” said Moody. “It would have needed an 
+exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle 
+that goblet into forgetting that only three schools 
+compete in the tournament. ... I’m guessing they 
+submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to 
+make sure he was the only one in his category. ...” 
+
+“You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, 
+Moody,” said Karkaroff coldly, “and a very ingenious 
+theory it is — though of course, I heard you recently 
+got it into your head that one of your birthday 
+presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk 
+egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a 
+carriage clock. So you’ll understand if we don’t take 
+you entirely seriously. ...” 
+
+“There are those who’ll turn innocent occasions to 
+their advantage,” Moody retorted in a menacing voice. 
+
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+
+“It’s my job to think the way Dark wizards do, 
+Karkaroff — as you ought to remember. ...” 
+
+“Alas tor!” said Dumbledore warningly. Harry 
+wondered for a moment whom he was speaking to, 
+but then realized “Mad-Eye” could hardly be Moody’s 
+real first name. Moody fell silent, though still 
+surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction — Karkaroff’s 
+face was burning. 
+
+“How this situation arose, we do not know,” said 
+Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the 
+room. “It seems to me, however, that we have no 
+choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have 
+been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, 
+therefore, they will do. ...” 
+
+“Ah, but Dumbly-dorr — ” 
+
+“My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, 
+
+I would be delighted to hear it.” 
+
+Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not 
+speak, she merely glared. She wasn’t the only one 
+either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, 
+however, looked rather excited. 
+
+“Well, shall we crack on, then?” he said, rubbing his 
+hands together and smiling around the room. “Got to 
+give our champions their instructions, haven’t we? 
+Barty, want to do the honors?” 
+
+Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie. 
+
+“Yes,” he said, “instructions. Yes ... the first task ...” 
+
+He moved forward into the firelight. Close up, Harry 
+thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows 
+beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his 
+
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+
+wrinkled skin that had not been there at the 
+Quidditch World Cup. 
+
+“The first task is designed to test your daring,” he told 
+Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, “so we are not going 
+to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the 
+unknown is an important quality in a wizard . . . very 
+important. ... 
+
+“The first task will take place on November the 
+twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the 
+panel of judges. 
+
+“The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept 
+help of any kind from their teachers to complete the 
+tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the 
+first challenge armed only with their wands. They will 
+receive information about the second task when the 
+first is over. Owing to the demanding and time- 
+consuming nature of the tournament, the champions 
+are exempted from end-of-year tests.” 
+
+Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. 
+
+“I think that’s all, is it, Albus?” 
+
+“I think so,” said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. 
+Crouch with mild concern. “Are you sure you 
+wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?” 
+
+“No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry,” 
+said Mr. Crouch. “It is a very busy, very difficult time 
+at the moment. ... I’ve left young Weatherby in 
+charge. ... Very enthusiastic ... a little 
+overenthusiastic, if truth be told. ...” 
+
+“You’ll come and have a drink before you go, at 
+least?” said Dumbledore. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Come on, Barty, I’m staying!” said Bagman brightly. 
+“It’s all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much 
+more exciting here than at the office!” 
+
+“I think not, Ludo,” said Crouch with a touch of his 
+old impatience. 
+
+“Professor Karkaroff — Madame Maxime — a 
+nightcap?” said Dumbledore. 
+
+But Madame Maxime had already put her arm 
+around Fleur’s shoulders and was leading her swiftly 
+out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking 
+very fast in French as they went off into the Great 
+Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, 
+exited, though in silence. 
+
+“Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed,” said 
+Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. “I am sure 
+Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with 
+you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this 
+excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and 
+noise.” 
+
+Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left 
+together. 
+
+The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had 
+burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins 
+an eerie, flickering quality. 
+
+“So,” said Cedric, with a slight smile. “We’re playing 
+against each other again!” 
+
+“I s’pose,” said Harry. He really couldn’t think of 
+anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be 
+in complete disarray, as though his brain had been 
+ransacked. 
+
+
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+
+“So ... tell me ...” said Cedric as they reached the 
+entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in 
+the absence of the Goblet of Fire. “How did you get 
+your name in?” 
+
+“I didn’t,” said Harry, staring up at him. “I didn’t put 
+it in. I was telling the truth.” 
+
+“Ah ... okay,” said Cedric. Harry could tell Cedric 
+didn’t believe him. “Well ... see you, then.” 
+
+Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric 
+headed for a door to its right. Harry stood listening to 
+him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, 
+slowly, he started to climb the marble ones. 
+
+Was anyone except Ron and Hermione going to 
+believe him, or would they all think he’d put himself 
+in for the tournament? Yet how could anyone think 
+that, when he was facing competitors who’d had three 
+years’ more magical education than he had — when 
+he was now facing tasks that not only sounded very 
+dangerous, but which were to be performed in front of 
+hundreds of people? Yes, he’d thought about it ... he’d 
+fantasized about it ... but it had been a joke, really, 
+an idle sort of dream ... he’d never really, seriously 
+considered entering. ... 
+
+But someone else had considered it ... someone else 
+had wanted him in the tournament, and had made 
+sure he was entered. Why? To give him a treat? He 
+didn’t think so, somehow. ... 
+
+To see him make a fool of himself? Well, they were 
+likely to get their wish. ... 
+
+But to get him killed? 
+
+
+
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+
+Was Moody just being his usual paranoid self? 
+Couldn’t someone have put Harry’s name in the 
+goblet as a trick, a practical joke? Did anyone really 
+want him dead? 
+
+Harry was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone 
+wanted him dead, someone had wanted him dead 
+ever since he had been a year old ... Lord Voldemort. 
+But how could Voldemort have ensured that Harry’s 
+name got into the Goblet of Fire? Voldemort was 
+supposed to be far away, in some distant country, in 
+hiding, alone ... feeble and powerless. ... 
+
+Yet in that dream he had had, just before he had 
+awoken with his scar hurting, Voldemort had not 
+been alone ... he had been talking to Wormtail ... 
+plotting Harry’s murder. . . . 
+
+Harry got a shock to find himself facing the Fat Lady 
+already. He had barely noticed where his feet were 
+carrying him. It was also a surprise to see that she 
+was not alone in her frame. The wizened witch who 
+had flitted into her neighbor’s painting when he had 
+joined the champions downstairs was now sitting 
+smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed 
+through every picture lining seven staircases to reach 
+here before him. Both she and the Fat Lady were 
+looking down at him with the keenest interest. 
+
+“Well, well, well,” said the Fat Lady, “Violet’s just told 
+me everything. Who’s just been chosen as school 
+champion, then?” 
+
+“Balderdash,” said Harry dully. 
+
+“It most certainly isn’t!” said the pale witch 
+indignantly. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+“No, no, Vi, it’s the password,” said the Fat Lady 
+soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to 
+let Harry into the common room. 
+
+The blast of noise that met Harry’s ears when the 
+portrait opened almost knocked him backward. Next 
+thing he knew, he was being wrenched inside the 
+common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and 
+was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom 
+were screaming, applauding, and whistling. 
+
+“You should’ve told us you’d entered!” bellowed Fred; 
+he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed. 
+
+“How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!” 
+roared George. 
+
+“I didn’t,” Harry said. “I don’t know how — ” 
+
+But Angelina had now swooped down upon him; “Oh 
+if it couldn’t be me, at least it’s a Gryffindor — ” 
+
+“You’ll be able to pay back Diggory for that last 
+Quidditch match, Harry!” shrieked Katie Bell, another 
+of the Gryffindor Chasers. 
+
+“We’ve got food, Harry, come and have some — ” 
+
+“I’m not hungry, I had enough at the feast — ” 
+
+But nobody wanted to hear that he wasn’t hungry; 
+nobody wanted to hear that he hadn’t put his name in 
+the goblet; not one single person seemed to have 
+noticed that he wasn’t at all in the mood to celebrate. 
+... Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner 
+from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it 
+around Harry like a cloak. Harry couldn’t get away; 
+whenever he tried to sidle over to the staircase up to 
+the dormitories, the crowd around him closed ranks, 
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+
+
+
+forcing another butterbeer on him, stuffing crisps and 
+peanuts into his hands. ... Everyone wanted to know 
+how he had done it, how he had tricked Dumbledore’s 
+Age Line and managed to get his name into the 
+goblet. ... 
+
+“I didn’t,” he said, over and over again, “I don’t know 
+how it happened.” 
+
+But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as 
+well not have answered at all. 
+
+“I’m tired!” he bellowed finally, after nearly half an 
+hour. “No, seriously, George — I’m going to bed — ” 
+
+He wanted more than anything to find Ron and 
+Hermione, to find a bit of sanity, but neither of them 
+seemed to be in the common room. Insisting that he 
+needed to sleep, and almost flattening the little 
+Creevey brothers as they attempted to waylay him at 
+the foot of the stairs, Harry managed to shake 
+everyone off and climb up to the dormitory as fast as 
+he could. 
+
+To his great relief, he found Ron was lying on his bed 
+in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. 
+He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind 
+him. 
+
+“Where ’ve you been?” Harry said. 
+
+“Oh hello,” said Ron. 
+
+He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort 
+of grin. Harry suddenly became aware that he was 
+still wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee 
+had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it 
+was knotted very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without 
+moving, watching Harry struggle to remove it. 
+
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+
+
+
+“So,” he said, when Harry had finally removed the 
+banner and thrown it into a corner. 
+
+“Congratulations . ” 
+
+“What d’you mean, congratulations?” said Harry, 
+staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong 
+with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a 
+grimace. 
+
+“Well ... no one else got across the Age Line,” said 
+Ron. “Not even Fred and George. What did you use — 
+the Invisibility Cloak?” 
+
+“The Invisibility Cloak wouldn’t have got me over that 
+line,” said Harry slowly. 
+
+“Oh right,” said Ron. “I thought you might’ve told me 
+if it was the cloak ... because it would’ve covered both 
+of us, wouldn’t it? But you found another way, did 
+you?” 
+
+“Listen,” said Harry, “I didn’t put my name in that 
+goblet. Someone else must’ve done it.” 
+
+Ron raised his eyebrows. 
+
+“What would they do that for?” 
+
+“I dunno,” said Harry. He felt it would sound very 
+melodramatic to say, “To kill me.” 
+
+Ron’s eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger 
+of disappearing into his hair. 
+
+“It’s okay, you know, you can tell me the truth,” he 
+said. “If you don’t want everyone else to know, fine, 
+but I don’t know why you’re bothering to lie, you 
+didn’t get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of 
+the Fat Lady’s, that Violet, she’s already told us all 
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+
+
+
+
+Dumbledore’s letting you enter. A thousand Galleons 
+prize money, eh? And you don’t have to do end-of- 
+year tests either. ...” 
+
+“I didn’t put my name in that goblet!” said Harry, 
+starting to feel angry. 
+
+“Yeah, okay,” said Ron, in exactly the same sceptical 
+tone as Cedric. “Only you said this morning you’d 
+have done it last night, and no one would’ve seen you. 
+... I’m not stupid, you know.” 
+
+“You’re doing a really good impression of it,” Harry 
+snapped. 
+
+“Yeah?” said Ron, and there was no trace of a grin, 
+forced or otherwise, on his face now. “You want to get 
+to bed, Harry. I expect you’ll need to be up early 
+tomorrow for a photo-call or something.” 
+
+He wrenched the hangings shut around his four- 
+poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, 
+staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding 
+one of the few people he had been sure would believe 
+him. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WEIGHING OF THE WANDS 
+
+When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, it took him 
+a moment to remember why he felt so miserable and 
+worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled 
+over him. He sat up and ripped back the curtains of 
+his own four-poster, intending to talk to Ron, to force 
+Ron to believe him — only to find that Ron’s bed was 
+empty; he had obviously gone down to breakfast. 
+
+Harry dressed and went down the spiral staircase into 
+the common room. The moment he appeared, the 
+people who had already finished breakfast broke into 
+applause again. The prospect of going down into the 
+Great Hall and facing the rest of the Gryffindors, all 
+treating him like some sort of hero, was not inviting; 
+it was that, however, or stay here and allow himself to 
+be cornered by the Creevey brothers, who were both 
+beckoning frantically to him to join them. He walked 
+resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, 
+climbed out of it, and found himself face-to-face with 
+Hermione. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Hello,” she said, holding up a stack of toast, which 
+she was carrying in a napkin. “I brought you this. ... 
+Want to go for a walk?” 
+
+“Good idea,” said Harry gratefully. 
+
+They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall 
+quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were 
+soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where 
+the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in 
+the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept 
+moving, munching their toast, as Harry told 
+Hermione exactly what had happened after he had left 
+the Gryffindor table the night before. To his immense 
+relief, Hermione accepted his story without question. 
+
+“Well, of course I knew you hadn’t entered yourself,” 
+she said when he’d finished telling her about the 
+scene in the chamber off the Hall. “The look on your 
+face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the 
+question is, who did put it in? Because Moody’s right, 
+Harry ... I don’t think any student could have done it 
+... they’d never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over 
+Dumbledore ’s — ” 
+
+“Have you seen Ron?” Harry interrupted. 
+
+Hermione hesitated. 
+
+“Erm ... yes ... he was at breakfast,” she said. 
+
+“Does he still think I entered myself?” 
+
+“Well ... no, I don’t think so ... not really,” said 
+Hermione awkwardly. 
+
+“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘not really’?” 
+
+
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+
+
+“Oh Harry, isn’t it obvious?” Hermione said 
+despairingly. “He’s jealous!” 
+
+
+
+“Jealous?” Harry said incredulously. “Jealous of 
+what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of 
+the whole school, does he?” 
+
+“Look,” said Hermione patiently, “it’s always you who 
+gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it’s not 
+your fault,” she added quickly, seeing Harry open his 
+mouth furiously. “I know you don’t ask for it ... but — 
+well — you know, Ron’s got all those brothers to 
+compete against at home, and you’re his best friend, 
+and you’re really famous — he’s always shunted to 
+one side whenever people see you, and he puts up 
+with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this 
+is just one time too many. ...” 
+
+“Great,” said Harry bitterly. “Really great. Tell him 
+from me I’ll swap any time he wants. Tell him from 
+me he’s welcome to it. ... People gawping at my 
+forehead everywhere I go. ...” 
+
+“I’m not telling him anything,” Hermione said shortly. 
+“Tell him yourself. It’s the only way to sort this out.” 
+
+“I’m not running around after him trying to make him 
+grow up!” Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a 
+nearby tree took flight in alarm. “Maybe he’ll believe 
+I’m not enjoying myself once I’ve got my neck broken 
+or — ” 
+
+
+
+“That’s not funny,” said Hermione quietly. “That’s not 
+funny at all.” She looked extremely anxious. “Harry, 
+I’ve been thinking — you know what we’ve got to do, 
+don’t you? Straight away, the moment we get back to 
+the castle?” 
+
+“Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the — ” 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Write to Sirius. You’ve got to tell him what’s 
+happened. He asked you to keep him posted on 
+everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. ... It’s almost 
+as if he expected something like this to happen. I 
+brought some parchment and a quill out with me — ” 
+
+“Come off it,” said Harry, looking around to check 
+that they couldn’t be overheard, but the grounds were 
+quite deserted. “He came back to the country just 
+because my scar twinged. He’ll probably come 
+bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone’s 
+entered me in the Triwizard Tournament — ” 
+
+“He’d want you to tell him,” said Hermione sternly. 
+“He’s going to find out anyway — ” 
+
+“How?” 
+
+“Harry, this isn’t going to be kept quiet,” said 
+Hermione, very seriously. “This tournament’s famous, 
+and you’re famous. Ill be really surprised if there isn’t 
+anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing. . . . 
+You’re already in half the books about You-Know- 
+Who, you know ... and Sirius would rather hear it 
+from you, I know he would.” 
+
+“Okay, okay, I’ll write to him,” said Harry, throwing 
+his last piece of toast into the lake. They both stood 
+and watched it floating there for a moment, before a 
+large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it 
+beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle. 
+
+“Whose owl am I going to use?” Harry said as they 
+climbed the stairs. “He told me not to use Hedwig 
+again.” 
+
+“Ask Ron if you can borrow — ” 
+
+“I’m not asking Ron for anything,” Harry said flatly. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Well, borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone 
+can use them,” said Hermione. 
+
+They went up to the Owlery Hermione gave Harry a 
+piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then 
+strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at 
+all the different owls, while Harry sat down against a 
+wall and wrote his letter. 
+
+Dear Sirius, 
+
+You told me to keep you posted on what’s happening 
+at Hogwarts, so here goes — I don’t know if you’ve 
+heard, but the Tri-wizard Tournament’s happening this 
+year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth 
+champion. I don’t know who put my name in the Goblet 
+of Fire, because I didn’t The other Hogwarts champion 
+is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff 
+
+He paused at this point, thinking. He had an urge to 
+say something about the large weight of anxiety that 
+seemed to have settled inside his chest since last 
+night, but he couldn’t think how to translate this into 
+words, so he simply dipped his quill back into the ink 
+bottle and wrote, 
+
+Hope you’re okay, and Buckbeak — Harry 
+
+
+
+“Finished,” he told Hermione, getting to his feet and 
+brushing straw off his robes. At this, Hedwig came 
+fluttering down onto his shoulder and held out her 
+leg. 
+
+“I can’t use you,” Harry told her, looking around for 
+the school owls. “I’ve got to use one of these. ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Hedwig gave a very loud hoot and took off so suddenly 
+that her talons cut into his shoulder. She kept her 
+back to Harry all the time he was tying his letter to 
+the leg of a large barn owl. When the barn owl had 
+flown off, Harry reached out to stroke Hedwig, but she 
+clicked her beak furiously and soared up into the 
+rafters out of reach. 
+
+“First Ron, then you,” said Harry angrily. “ This isn’t 
+my fault.” 
+
+If Harry had thought that matters would improve 
+once everyone got used to the idea of him being 
+champion, the following day showed him how 
+mistaken he was. He could no longer avoid the rest of 
+the school once he was back at lessons — and it was 
+clear that the rest of the school, just like the 
+Gryffindors, thought Harry had entered himself for 
+the tournament. Unlike the Gryffindors, however, 
+they did not seem impressed. 
+
+The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms 
+with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold 
+toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson 
+was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the 
+Hufflepuffs felt that Harry had stolen their 
+champion’s glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by 
+the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any 
+glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had 
+ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at 
+Quidditch. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch- 
+Fletchley, with whom Harry normally got on very well, 
+did not talk to him even though they were repotting 
+Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray — though they did 
+laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing 
+Bulbs wriggled free from Harry’s grip and smacked 
+him hard in the face. Ron wasn’t talking to Harry 
+either. Hermione sat between them, making very 
+forced conversation, but though both answered her 
+Page | 324 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+normally, they avoided making eye contact with each 
+other. Harry thought even Professor Sprout seemed 
+distant with him — but then, she was Head of 
+Hufflepuff House. 
+
+He would have been looking forward to seeing Hagrid 
+under normal circumstances, but Care of Magical 
+Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins too — the first 
+time he would come face-to-face with them since 
+becoming champion. 
+
+Predictably, Malfoy arrived at Hagrid ’s cabin with his 
+familiar sneer firmly in place. 
+
+“Ah, look, boys, it’s the champion,” he said to Crabbe 
+and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Harry. 
+“Got your autograph books? Better get a signature 
+now, because I doubt he’s going to be around much 
+longer. ... Half the Triwizard champions have died ... 
+how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? 
+
+Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.” 
+
+Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but 
+Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged 
+from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower 
+of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended 
+Skrewt. To the class’s horror, Hagrid proceeded to 
+explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing 
+one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and 
+that the solution would be for each student to fix a 
+leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The 
+only good thing about this plan was that it distracted 
+Malfoy completely. 
+
+“Take this thing for a walk?” he repeated in disgust, 
+staring into one of the boxes. “And where exactly are 
+we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the 
+blasting end, or the sucker?” 
+
+
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+
+
+“Roun’ the middle,” said Hagrid, demonstrating. “Er 
+— yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, 
+jus’ as an extra precaution, like. Harry — you come 
+here an’ help me with this big one. ...” 
+
+Hagrid’s real intention, however, was to talk to Harry 
+away from the rest of the class. He waited until 
+everyone else had set off with their skrewts, then 
+turned to Harry and said, very seriously, “So — yer 
+competin’, Harry. In the tournament. School 
+champion.” 
+
+“One of the champions,” Harry corrected him. 
+
+Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes looked very anxious under 
+his wild eyebrows. 
+
+“No idea who put yeh in fer it, Harry?” 
+
+“You believe I didn’t do it, then?” said Harry, 
+concealing with difficulty the rush of gratitude he felt 
+at Hagrid’s words. 
+
+“ ’Course I do,” Hagrid grunted. “Yeh say it wasn’ you, 
+an’ I believe yeh — an’ Dumbledore believes yer, an’ 
+all.” 
+
+“Wish I knew who did do it,” said Harry bitterly. 
+
+The pair of them looked out over the lawn; the class 
+was widely scattered now, and all in great difficulty. 
+The skrewts were now over three feet long, and 
+extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colorless, 
+they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny 
+armor. They looked like a cross between giant 
+scorpions and elongated crabs — but still without 
+recognizable heads or eyes. They had become 
+immensely strong and very hard to control. 
+
+
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+
+
+“Look like they’re havin’ fun, don’ they?” Hagrid said 
+happily. Harry assumed he was talking about the 
+skrewts, because his classmates certainly weren’t; 
+every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of 
+the skrewts’ ends would explode, causing it to shoot 
+forward several yards, and more than one person was 
+being dragged along on their stomach, trying 
+desperately to get back on their feet. 
+
+“Ah, I don’ know, Harry,” Hagrid sighed suddenly, 
+looking back down at him with a worried expression 
+on his face. “School champion ... everythin’ seems ter 
+happen ter you, doesn’ it?” 
+
+Harry didn’t answer. Yes, everything did seem to 
+happen to him ... that was more or less what 
+Hermione had said as they had walked around the 
+lake, and that was the reason, according to her, that 
+Ron was no longer talking to him. 
+
+The next few days were some of Harry’s worst at 
+Hogwarts. The closest he had ever come to feeling like 
+this had been during those months, in his second 
+year, when a large part of the school had suspected 
+him of attacking his fellow students. But Ron had 
+been on his side then. He thought he could have 
+coped with the rest of the school’s behavior if he could 
+just have had Ron back as a friend, but he wasn’t 
+going to try and persuade Ron to talk to him if Ron 
+didn’t want to. Nevertheless, it was lonely with dislike 
+pouring in on him from all sides. 
+
+He could understand the Hufflepuffs’ attitude, even if 
+he didn’t like it; they had their own champion to 
+support. He expected nothing less than vicious 
+insults from the Slytherins — he was highly 
+unpopular there and always had been, because he 
+had helped Gryffindor beat them so often, both at 
+Quidditch and in the Inter-House Championship. But 
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+
+
+
+
+he had hoped the Ravenclaws might have found it in 
+their hearts to support him as much as Cedric. He 
+was wrong, however. Most Ravenclaws seemed to 
+think that he had been desperate to earn himself a bit 
+more fame by tricking the goblet into accepting his 
+name. 
+
+Then there was the fact that Cedric looked the part of 
+a champion so much more than he did. Exceptionally 
+handsome, with his straight nose, dark hair, and gray 
+eyes, it was hard to say who was receiving more 
+admiration these days, Cedric or Viktor Krum. Harry 
+actually saw the same sixth-year girls who had been 
+so keen to get Krum’s autograph begging Cedric to 
+sign their school bags one lunchtime. 
+
+Meanwhile there was no reply from Sirius, Hedwig 
+was refusing to come anywhere near him, Professor 
+Trelawney was predicting his death with even more 
+certainty than usual, and he did so badly at 
+Summoning Charms in Professor Flitwick’s class that 
+he was given extra homework — the only person to 
+get any, apart from Neville. 
+
+“It’s really not that difficult, Harry,” Hermione tried to 
+reassure him as they left Flitwick’s class — she had 
+been making objects zoom across the room to her all 
+lesson, as though she were some sort of weird magnet 
+for board dusters, wastepaper baskets, and 
+lunascopes. “You just weren’t concentrating properly 
+
+
+
+“Wonder why that was,” said Harry darkly as Cedric 
+Diggory walked past, surrounded by a large group of 
+simpering girls, all of whom looked at Harry as 
+though he were a particularly large Blast-Ended 
+Skrewt. “Still — never mind, eh? Double Potions to 
+look forward to this afternoon. ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Double Potions was always a horrible experience, but 
+these days it was nothing short of torture. Being shut 
+in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and 
+the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to 
+punish Harry as much as possible for daring to 
+become school champion, was about the most 
+unpleasant thing Harry could imagine. He had 
+already struggled through one Friday’s worth, with 
+Hermione sitting next to him intoning “ignore them, 
+ignore them, ignore them” under her breath, and he 
+couldn’t see why today should be any better. 
+
+When he and Hermione arrived at Snape ’s dungeon 
+after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, 
+each and every one of them wearing a large badge on 
+the front of his or her robes. For one wild moment 
+Harry thought they were S.P.E.W. badges — then he 
+saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous 
+red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit 
+underground passage: 
+
+Support CEDRIC DIGGORY — 
+
+The REAL Hogwarts Champion 
+
+“Like them, Potter?” said Malfoy loudly as Harry 
+approached. “And this isn’t all they do — look!” 
+
+He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message 
+upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, 
+which glowed green: 
+
+POTTER STINKS 
+
+The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them 
+pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER 
+STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt 
+the heat rise in his face and neck. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Oh very funny,” Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy 
+Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were 
+laughing harder than anyone, “really witty.” 
+
+Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and 
+Seamus. He wasn’t laughing, but he wasn’t sticking 
+up for Harry either. 
+
+“Want one, Granger?” said Malfoy, holding out a 
+badge to Hermione. “I’ve got loads. But don’t touch 
+my hand, now. I’ve just washed it, you see; don’t want 
+a Mudblood sliming it up.” 
+
+Some of the anger Harry had been feeling for days 
+and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. 
+He had reached for his wand before he’d thought 
+what he was doing. People all around them scrambled 
+out of the way, backing down the corridor. 
+
+“Harry!” Hermione said warningly. 
+
+“Go on, then, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly, drawing out 
+his own wand. “Moody’s not here to look after you 
+now — do it, if you’ve got the guts — ” 
+
+For a split second, they looked into each other’s eyes, 
+then, at exactly the same time, both acted. 
+
+“ FurnunculusV’ Harry yelled. 
+
+“ DensaugeoV’ screamed Malfoy. 
+
+Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in 
+midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Harry’s hit 
+Goyle in the face, and Malfoy’s hit Hermione. Goyle 
+bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great 
+ugly boils were springing up — Hermione, whimpering 
+in panic, was clutching her mouth. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+“Hermione!” 
+
+
+
+Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with 
+her; Harry turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione ’s 
+hand away from her face. It wasn’t a pretty sight. 
+Hermione ’s front teeth — already larger than average 
+— were now growing at an alarming rate; she was 
+looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth 
+elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin — 
+panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified 
+cry. 
+
+“And what is all this noise about?” said a soft, deadly 
+voice. 
+
+Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give 
+their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger 
+at Malfoy and said, “Explain.” 
+
+“Potter attacked me, sir — ” 
+
+“We attacked each other at the same time!” Harry 
+shouted. 
+
+“ — and he hit Goyle — look — ” 
+
+Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled 
+something that would have been at home in a book 
+on poisonous fungi. 
+
+“Hospital wing, Goyle,” Snape said calmly. 
+
+“Malfoy got Hermione!” Ron said. “Loo/d” 
+
+He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth — she 
+was doing her best to hide them with her hands, 
+though this was difficult as they had now grown down 
+past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other 
+
+
+
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+
+Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, 
+pointing at Hermione from behind Snape ’s back. 
+
+Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, “I see no 
+difference.” 
+
+Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, 
+she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up 
+the corridor and out of sight. 
+
+It was lucky, perhaps, that both Harry and Ron 
+started shouting at Snape at the same time; lucky 
+their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for 
+in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear 
+exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, 
+however. 
+
+“Let’s see,” he said, in his silkiest voice. “Fifty points 
+from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and 
+Weasley. Now get inside, or it’ll be a week’s worth of 
+detentions.” 
+
+Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made 
+him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy 
+pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the 
+back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto 
+the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a 
+moment, it felt as though everything was back to 
+normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat 
+down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry 
+alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, 
+Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his 
+badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more 
+across the room. 
+
+Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, 
+picturing horrific things happening to him. ... If only 
+he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse ... he’d have 
+
+
+
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+
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+
+Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and 
+twitching. ... 
+
+“Antidotes!” said Snape, looking around at them all, 
+his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. “You 
+should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you 
+to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting 
+someone on whom to test one. ...” 
+
+Snape’s eyes met Harry’s, and Harry knew what was 
+coming. Snape was going to poison him. Harry 
+imagined picking up his cauldron, and sprinting to 
+the front of the class, and bringing it down on Snape’s 
+greasy head — 
+
+And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on 
+Harry’s thoughts. 
+
+It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, 
+beaming at Harry, and walked up to Snape’s desk at 
+the front of the room. 
+
+“Yes?” said Snape curtly. 
+
+“Please, sir, I’m supposed to take Harry Potter 
+upstairs.” 
+
+Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose 
+smile faded from his eager face. 
+
+“Potter has another hour of Potions to complete,” said 
+Snape coldly. “He will come upstairs when this class 
+is finished.” 
+
+Colin went pink. 
+
+“Sir — sir, Mr. Bagman wants him,” he said 
+nervously. “All the champions have got to go, I think 
+they want to take photographs. ...” 
+
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+
+Harry would have given anything he owned to have 
+stopped Colin saying those last few words. He 
+chanced half a glance at Ron, but Ron was staring 
+determinedly at the ceiling. 
+
+“Very well, very well,” Snape snapped. “Potter, leave 
+your things here, I want you back down here later to 
+test your antidote.” 
+
+“Please, sir — he’s got to take his things with him,” 
+squeaked Colin. “All the champions — ” 
+
+“Very well\” said Snape. “Potter — take your bag and 
+get out of my sight!” 
+
+Harry swung his bag over his shoulder, got up, and 
+headed for the door. As he walked through the 
+Slytherin desks, POTTER STINKS flashed at him from 
+every direction. 
+
+“It’s amazing, isn’t it, Harry?” said Colin, starting to 
+speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon 
+door behind him. “Isn’t it, though? You being 
+champion?” 
+
+“Yeah, really amazing,” said Harry heavily as they set 
+off toward the steps into the entrance hall. “What do 
+they want photos for, Colin?” 
+
+“The Daily Prophet, I think!” 
+
+“Great,” said Harry dully. “Exactly what I need. More 
+publicity.” 
+
+“Good luck!” said Colin when they had reached the 
+right room. Harry knocked on the door and entered. 
+
+He was in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks 
+had been pushed away to the back of the room, 
+
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+
+
+
+
+leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, 
+however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the 
+blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. 
+Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered 
+desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, 
+talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who 
+was wearing magenta robes. 
+
+Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as 
+usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur 
+were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal 
+happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept 
+throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair 
+caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large 
+black camera that was smoking slightly, was 
+watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye. 
+
+Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and 
+bounded forward. 
+
+“Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, 
+Harry, in you come ... nothing to worry about, it’s just 
+the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges 
+will be here in a moment — ” 
+
+“Wand weighing?” Harry repeated nervously. 
+
+“We have to check that your wands are fully 
+functional, no problems, you know, as they’re your 
+most important tools in the tasks ahead,” said 
+Bagman. “The expert’s upstairs now with 
+Dumbledore. And then there’s going to be a little 
+photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter,” he added, 
+gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. “She’s 
+doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily 
+Prophet ...” 
+
+“Maybe not that small, Ludo,” said Rita Skeeter, her 
+eyes on Harry. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls 
+that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She 
+wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching 
+her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, 
+painted crimson. 
+
+“I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry 
+before we start?” she said to Bagman, but still gazing 
+fixedly at Harry. “The youngest champion, you know 
+... to add a bit of color?” 
+
+“Certainly!” cried Bagman. “That is — if Harry has no 
+objection?” 
+
+“Er — ” said Harry. 
+
+“Lovely,” said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her 
+scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry’s upper arm in a 
+surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him 
+out of the room again and opening a nearby door. 
+
+“We don’t want to be in there with all that noise,” she 
+said. “Let’s see ... ah, yes, this is nice and cozy.” 
+
+It was a broom cupboard. Harry stared at her. 
+
+“Come along, dear — that’s right — lovely,” said Rita 
+Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an 
+upturned bucket, pushing Harry down onto a 
+cardboard box, and closing the door, throwing them 
+into darkness. “Let’s see now ...” 
+
+She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and 
+pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a 
+wave of her wand and magicked into midair, so that 
+they could see what they were doing. 
+
+“You won’t mind, Harry, if I use a Quick-Quotes 
+Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally. ...” 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“A what?” said Harry. 
+
+
+
+Rita Skeeter’s smile widened. Harry counted three 
+gold teeth. She reached again into her crocodile bag 
+and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of 
+parchment, which she stretched out between them on 
+a crate of Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess 
+Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her 
+mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, 
+then placed it upright on the parchment, where it 
+stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly. 
+
+“Testing ... my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet 
+reporter.” 
+
+Harry looked down quickly at the quill. The moment 
+Rita Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started 
+to scribble, skidding across the parchment: 
+
+Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose 
+savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations 
+
+
+
+“Lovely,” said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped 
+the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and 
+stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned toward 
+Harry and said, “So, Harry ... what made you decide 
+to enter the Triwizard Tournament?” 
+
+“Er — ” said Harry again, but he was distracted by the 
+quill. Even though he wasn’t speaking, it was dashing 
+across the parchment, and in its wake he could make 
+out a fresh sentence: 
+
+An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the 
+otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+“Ignore the quill, Harry,” said Rita Skeeter firmly. 
+Reluctantly, Harry looked up at her instead. “Now — 
+why did you decide to enter the tournament, Harry?” 
+
+“I didn’t,” said Harry. “I don’t know how my name got 
+into the Goblet of Fire. I didn’t put it in there.” 
+
+Rita Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow. 
+
+“Come now, Harry, there’s no need to be scared of 
+getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn’t really 
+have entered at all. But don’t worry about that. Our 
+readers love a rebel.” 
+
+“But I didn’t enter,” Harry repeated. “I don’t know 
+who — ” 
+
+“How do you feel about the tasks ahead?” said Rita 
+Skeeter. “Excited? Nervous?” 
+
+“I haven’t really thought ... yeah, nervous, I suppose,” 
+said Harry. His insides squirmed uncomfortably as he 
+spoke. 
+
+“Champions have died in the past, haven’t they?” said 
+Rita Skeeter briskly. “Have you thought about that at 
+all?” 
+
+“Well ... they say it’s going to be a lot safer this year,” 
+said Harry. 
+
+The quill whizzed across the parchment between 
+them, back and forward as though it were skating. 
+
+“Of course, you’ve looked death in the face before, 
+haven’t you?” said Rita Skeeter, watching him closely. 
+“How would you say that’s affected you?” 
+
+“Er,” said Harry, yet again. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Do you think that the trauma in your past might 
+have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to 
+your name? Do you think that perhaps you were 
+tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because 
+
+
+
+“I didn’t enter,” said Harry, starting to feel irritated. 
+
+“Can you remember your parents at all?” said Rita 
+Skeeter, talking over him. 
+
+“No,” said Harry. 
+
+“How do you think they’d feel if they knew you were 
+competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? 
+Worried? Angry?” 
+
+Harry was feeling really annoyed now. How on earth 
+was he to know how his parents would feel if they 
+were alive? He could feel Rita Skeeter watching him 
+very intently. Frowning, he avoided her gaze and 
+looked down at words the quill had just written: 
+
+Tears fill those startling green eyes as our 
+conversation turns to the parents he can barely 
+remember. 
+
+“I have NOT got tears in my eyes!” said Harry loudly. 
+
+Before Rita Skeeter could say a word, the door of the 
+broom cupboard was pulled open. Harry looked 
+around, blinking in the bright light. Albus 
+Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of 
+them, squashed into the cupboard. 
+
+“ Dumbledorel” cried Rita Skeeter, with every 
+appearance of delight — but Harry noticed that her 
+quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from 
+the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Rita’s clawed 
+
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+
+
+
+
+fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her 
+crocodile-skin bag. “How are you?” she said, standing 
+up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands 
+to Dumbledore. “I hope you saw my piece over the 
+summer about the International Confederation of 
+Wizards’ Conference?” 
+
+“Enchantingly nasty,” said Dumbledore, his eyes 
+twinkling. “I particularly enjoyed your description of 
+me as an obsolete dingbat.” 
+
+Rita Skeeter didn’t look remotely abashed. 
+
+“I was just making the point that some of your ideas 
+are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many 
+wizards in the street — ” 
+
+“I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the 
+rudeness, Rita,” said Dumbledore, with a courteous 
+bow and a smile, “but I’m afraid we will have to 
+discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands 
+is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our 
+champions is hidden in a broom cupboard.” 
+
+Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Harry 
+hurried back into the room. The other champions 
+were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat 
+down quickly next to Cedric, looking up at the velvet- 
+covered table, where four of the five judges were now 
+sitting — Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. 
+Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled 
+herself down in a corner; Harry saw her slip the 
+parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her 
+knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and 
+place it once more on the parchment. 
+
+“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” said Dumbledore, 
+taking his place at the judges’ table and talking to the 
+champions. “He will be checking your wands to 
+
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+
+
+ensure that they are in good condition before the 
+tournament.” 
+
+Harry looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw 
+an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by 
+the window. Harry had met Mr. Ollivander before — 
+he was the wand-maker from whom Harry had 
+bought his own wand over three years ago in Diagon 
+Alley. 
+
+“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, 
+please?” said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty 
+space in the middle of the room. 
+
+Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and 
+handed him her wand. 
+
+“Hmmm ...” he said. 
+
+He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a 
+baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold 
+sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and 
+examined it carefully. 
+
+“Yes,” he said quietly, “nine and a half inches ... 
+inflexible . . . rosewood . . . and containing . . . dear me 
+
+
+
+“An ’air from ze ’ead of a veela,” said Fleur. “One of 
+my grandmuzzer’s.” 
+
+So Fleur was part veela, thought Harry, making a 
+mental note to tell Ron . . . then he remembered that 
+Ron wasn’t speaking to him. 
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, “yes, I’ve never used veela 
+hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather 
+temperamental wands . . . however, to each his own, 
+and if this suits you ...” 
+
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+
+Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, 
+apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he 
+muttered, “ OrchideousV’ and a bunch of flowers burst 
+from the wand tip. 
+
+“Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order,” said 
+Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing 
+them to Fleur with her wand. “Mr. Diggory, you next.” 
+
+Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he 
+passed her. 
+
+“Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” said Mr. 
+Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric 
+handed over his wand. “Yes, I remember it well. 
+Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly 
+fine male unicorn . . . must have been seventeen 
+hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked 
+his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches ... ash ... 
+pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition. ... You treat 
+it regularly?” 
+
+“Polished it last night,” said Cedric, grinning. 
+
+Harry looked down at his own wand. He could see 
+finger marks all over it. He gathered a fistful of robe 
+from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. 
+Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur 
+Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he 
+desisted. 
+
+Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings 
+across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand, 
+pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, “Mr. 
+Krum, if you please.” 
+
+Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered 
+and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust 
+
+
+
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+
+out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in 
+the pockets of his robes. 
+
+
+
+“Hmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, “this is a Gregorovitch 
+creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wand- 
+maker, though the styling is never quite what I . . . 
+however ...” 
+
+He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning 
+it over and over before his eyes. 
+
+“Yes . . . hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” he shot at 
+Krum, who nodded. “Rather thicker than one usually 
+sees . . . quite rigid . . . ten and a quarter inches . . . 
+
+Avis'.” 
+
+The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a 
+number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end 
+and through the open window into the watery 
+sunlight. 
+
+“Good,” said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his 
+wand. “Which leaves ... Mr. Potter.” 
+
+Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. 
+Ollivander. He handed over his wand. 
+
+“Aaaah, yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes 
+suddenly gleaming. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I 
+remember.” 
+
+Harry could remember too. He could remember it as 
+though it had happened yesterday. . . 
+
+Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had 
+entered Mr. Ollivander’s shop with Hagrid to buy a 
+wand. Mr. Ollivander had taken his measurements 
+and then started handing him wands to try. Harry 
+had waved what felt like every wand in the shop, until 
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+
+
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+
+at last he had found the one that suited him — this 
+one, which was made of holly, eleven inches long, and 
+contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. 
+Mr. Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry 
+had been so compatible with this wand. “Curious,” he 
+had said, “curious,” and not until Harry asked what 
+was curious had Mr. Ollivander explained that the 
+phoenix feather in Harry’s wand had come from the 
+same bird that had supplied the core of Lord 
+Voldemort’s. 
+
+Harry had never shared this piece of information with 
+anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as 
+he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand 
+was something it couldn’t help — rather as he 
+couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia. However, 
+he really hoped that Mr. Ollivander wasn’t about to 
+tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Rita 
+Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with 
+excitement if he did. 
+
+Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry’s 
+wand than anyone else’s. Eventually, however, he 
+made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it 
+back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect 
+condition. 
+
+“Thank you all,” said Dumbledore, standing up at the 
+judges’ table. “You may go back to your lessons now 
+— or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to 
+dinner, as they are about to end — ” 
+
+Feeling that at last something had gone right today, 
+Harry got up to leave, but the man with the black 
+camera jumped up and cleared his throat. 
+
+“Photos, Dumbledore, photos!” cried Bagman 
+excitedly. “All the judges and champions, what do you 
+think, Rita?” 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Er — yes, let’s do those first,” said Rita Skeeter, 
+whose eyes were upon Harry again. “And then 
+perhaps some individual shots.” 
+
+The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime 
+cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, 
+and the photographer couldn’t stand far enough back 
+to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit 
+while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept 
+twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra 
+curl; Krum, whom Harry would have thought would 
+have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half- 
+hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer 
+seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita 
+Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry 
+into greater prominence. Then she insisted on 
+separate shots of all the champions. At last, they were 
+free to go. 
+
+Harry went down to dinner. Hermione wasn’t there — 
+he supposed she was still in the hospital wing having 
+her teeth fixed. He ate alone at the end of the table, 
+then returned to Gryffindor Tower, thinking of all the 
+extra work on Summoning Charms that he had to do. 
+Up in the dormitory, he came across Ron. 
+
+“You’ve had an owl,” said Ron brusquely the moment 
+he walked in. He was pointing at Harry’s pillow. The 
+school barn owl was waiting for him there. 
+
+“Oh — right,” said Harry. 
+
+“And we’ve got to do our detentions tomorrow night, 
+Snape’s dungeon,” said Ron. 
+
+He then walked straight out of the room, not looking 
+at Harry. For a moment, Harry considered going after 
+him — he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to talk to 
+him or hit him, both seemed quite appealing — but 
+
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+
+
+the lure of Sirius’s answer was too strong. Harry 
+strode over to the barn owl, took the letter off its leg, 
+and unrolled it. 
+
+Harry — 
+
+I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter, it’s too 
+risky in case the owl is intercepted — we need to talk 
+face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the 
+fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning 
+on the 22nd of November? 
+
+I know better than anyone that you can look after 
+yourself and while you’re around Dumbledore and 
+Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you. 
+However, someone seems to be having a good try. 
+Entering you in that tournament would have been very 
+risky, especially right under Dumbledore’ s nose. 
+
+Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about 
+anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of 
+November as quickly as you can. 
+
+Sirius 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+THE HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL 
+
+The prospect of talking face-to-face with Sirius was all 
+that sustained Harry over the next fortnight, the only 
+bright spot on a horizon that had never looked 
+darker. The shock of finding himself school champion 
+had worn off slightly now, and the fear of what was 
+facing him had started to sink in. The first task was 
+drawing steadily nearer; he felt as though it were 
+crouching ahead of him like some horrific monster, 
+barring his path. He had never suffered nerves like 
+these; they were way beyond anything he had 
+experienced before a Quidditch match, not even his 
+last one against Slytherin, which had decided who 
+would win the Quidditch Cup. Harry was finding it 
+hard to think about the future at all; he felt as though 
+his whole life had been leading up to, and would 
+finish with, the first task. ... 
+
+Admittedly, he didn’t see how Sirius was going to 
+make him feel any better about having to perform an 
+unknown piece of difficult and dangerous magic in 
+front of hundreds of people, but the mere sight of a 
+friendly face would be something at the moment. 
+
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+
+
+Harry wrote back to Sirius saying that he would be 
+beside the common room fire at the time Sirius had 
+suggested, and he and Hermione spent a long time 
+going over plans for forcing any stragglers out of the 
+common room on the night in question. If the worst 
+came to the worst, they were going to drop a bag of 
+Dungbombs, but they hoped they wouldn’t have to 
+resort to that — Filch would skin them alive. 
+
+In the meantime, life became even worse for Harry 
+within the confines of the castle, for Rita Skeeter had 
+published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, 
+and it had turned out to be not so much a report on 
+the tournament as a highly colored life story of Harry. 
+Much of the front page had been given over to a 
+picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, 
+six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names 
+of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions 
+(misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of 
+the article, and Cedric hadn’t been mentioned at all. 
+
+The article had appeared ten days ago, and Harry still 
+got a sick, burning feeling of shame in his stomach 
+every time he thought about it. Rita Skeeter had 
+reported him saying an awful lot of things that he 
+couldn’t remember ever saying in his life, let alone in 
+that broom cupboard. 
+
+I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know 
+they’d be very proud of me if they could see me now. 
+
+... Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I’m 
+not ashamed to admit it. ... I know nothing will hurt 
+me during the tournament, because they’re watching 
+over me. ... 
+
+But Rita Skeeter had gone even further than 
+transforming his “er’s” into long, sickly sentences: 
+
+She had interviewed other people about him too. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close 
+friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen 
+out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a 
+stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is 
+one of the top students in the school. 
+
+From the moment the article had appeared, Harry 
+had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — 
+quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering 
+comments. 
+
+“Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in 
+Transfiguration?” 
+
+“Since when have you been one of the top students in 
+the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and 
+Longbottom have set up together?” 
+
+“Hey — Harry!” 
+
+“Yeah, that’s right!” Harry found himself shouting as 
+he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just 
+about enough. “I’ve just been crying my eyes out over 
+my dead mum, and I’m just off to do a bit more. ...” 
+
+“No — it was just — you dropped your quill.” 
+
+It was Cho. Harry felt the color rising in his face. 
+
+“Oh — right — sorry,” he muttered, taking the quill 
+back. 
+
+“Er ... good luck on Tuesday,” she said. “I really hope 
+you do well.” 
+
+Which left Harry feeling extremely stupid. 
+
+Hermione had come in for her fair share of 
+unpleasantness too, but she hadn’t yet started yelling 
+
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+
+
+at innocent bystanders; in fact, Harry was full of 
+admiration for the way she was handling the 
+situation. 
+
+“ Stunningly pretty? Her?” Pansy Parkinson had 
+shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with 
+Hermione after Rita’s article had appeared. “What was 
+she judging against — a chipmunk?” 
+
+“Ignore it,” Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding 
+her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering 
+Slytherin girls as though she couldn’t hear them. 
+
+“Just ignore it, Harry.” 
+
+But Harry couldn’t ignore it. Ron hadn’t spoken to 
+him at all since he had told him about Snape’s 
+detentions. Harry had half hoped they would make 
+things up during the two hours they were forced to 
+pickle rats’ brains in Snape’s dungeon, but that had 
+been the day Rita’s article had appeared, which 
+seemed to have confirmed Ron’s belief that Harry was 
+really enjoying all the attention. 
+
+Hermione was furious with the pair of them; she went 
+from one to the other, trying to force them to talk to 
+each other, but Harry was adamant: He would talk to 
+Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harry hadn’t put 
+his name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for 
+calling him a liar. 
+
+“I didn’t start this,” Harry said stubbornly. “It’s his 
+problem.” 
+
+“You miss him!” Hermione said impatiently. “And I 
+know he misses you — ” 
+
+“Miss him?” said Harry. “I don’t miss him. ...” 
+
+
+
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+But this was a downright lie. Harry liked Hermione 
+very much, but she just wasn’t the same as Ron. 
+
+There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging 
+around in the library when Hermione was your best 
+friend. Harry still hadn’t mastered Summoning 
+Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a 
+block about them, and Hermione insisted that 
+learning the theory would help. They consequently 
+spent a lot of time poring over books during their 
+lunchtimes. 
+
+Viktor Krum was in the library an awful lot too, and 
+Harry wondered what he was up to. Was he studying, 
+or was he looking for things to help him through the 
+first task? Hermione often complained about Krum 
+being there — not that he ever bothered them — but 
+because groups of giggling girls often turned up to spy 
+on him from behind bookshelves, and Hermione 
+found the noise distracting. 
+
+“He’s not even good-looking!” she muttered angrily, 
+glaring at Krum’s sharp profile. “They only like him 
+because he’s famous! They wouldn’t look twice at him 
+if he couldn’t do that Wonky- Faint thing — ” 
+
+“Wronski Feint,” said Harry, through gritted teeth. 
+Quite apart from liking to get Quidditch terms 
+correct, it caused him another pang to imagine Ron’s 
+expression if he could have heard Hermione talking 
+about Wonky- Faints. 
+
+It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading 
+something, and would give anything to slow down 
+time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. The 
+days until the first task seemed to slip by as though 
+someone had fixed the clocks to work at double 
+speed. Harry’s feeling of barely controlled panic was 
+with him wherever he went, as everpresent as the 
+snide comments about the Daily Prophet article. 
+
+Page | 351 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+On the Saturday before the first task, all students in 
+the third year and above were permitted to visit the 
+village of Hogsmeade. Hermione told Harry that it 
+would do him good to get away from the castle for a 
+bit, and Harry didn’t need much persuasion. 
+
+“What about Ron, though?” he said. “Don’t you want 
+to go with him?” 
+
+“Oh ... well ...” Hermione went slightly pink. “I 
+thought we might meet up with him in the Three 
+Broomsticks. ...” 
+
+“No,” said Harry flatly. 
+
+“Oh Harry, this is so stupid — ” 
+
+“I’ll come, but I’m not meeting Ron, and I’m wearing 
+my Invisibility Cloak.” 
+
+“Oh all right then ...” Hermione snapped, “but I hate 
+talking to you in that cloak, I never know if I’m 
+looking at you or not.” 
+
+So Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak in the 
+dormitory, went back downstairs, and together he 
+and Hermione set off for Hogsmeade. 
+
+Harry felt wonderfully free under the cloak; he 
+watched other students walking past them as they 
+entered the village, most of them sporting Support 
+Cedric Diggory\ badges, but no horrible remarks came 
+his way for a change, and nobody was quoting that 
+stupid article. 
+
+“People keep looking at me now,” said Hermione 
+grumpily as they came out of Honeydukes Sweetshop 
+later, eating large cream-filled chocolates. “They think 
+I’m talking to myself.” 
+
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+
+
+
+“Don’t move your lips so much then.” 
+
+
+
+“Come on, please just take off your cloak for a bit, no 
+one’s going to bother you here.” 
+
+“Oh yeah?” said Harry. “Look behind you.” 
+
+Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had just 
+emerged from the Three Broomsticks pub. Talking in 
+low voices, they passed right by Hermione without 
+looking at her. Harry backed into the wall of 
+Honeydukes to stop Rita Skeeter from hitting him 
+with her crocodile-skin handbag. When they were 
+gone, Harry said, “She’s staying in the village. I bet 
+she’s coming to watch the first task.” 
+
+As he said it, his stomach flooded with a wave of 
+molten panic. He didn’t mention this; he and 
+Hermione hadn’t discussed what was coming in the 
+first task much; he had the feeling she didn’t want to 
+think about it. 
+
+“She’s gone,” said Hermione, looking right through 
+Harry toward the end of the street. “Why don’t we go 
+and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it’s a 
+bit cold, isn’t it? You don’t have to talk to Ron!” she 
+added irritably, correctly interpreting his silence. 
+
+The Three Broomsticks was packed, mainly with 
+Hogwarts students enjoying their free afternoon, but 
+also with a variety of magical people Harry rarely saw 
+anywhere else. Harry supposed that as Hogsmeade 
+was the only all-wizard village in Britain, it was a bit 
+of a haven for creatures like hags, who were not as 
+adept as wizards at disguising themselves. 
+
+It was very hard to move through crowds in the 
+Invisibility Cloak, in case you accidentally trod on 
+someone, which tended to lead to awkward questions. 
+
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+
+Harry edged slowly toward a spare table in the corner 
+while Hermione went to buy drinks. On his way 
+through the pub, Harry spotted Ron, who was sitting 
+with Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. Resisting the urge 
+to give Ron a good hard poke in the back of the head, 
+he finally reached the table and sat down at it. 
+
+Hermione joined him a moment later and slipped him 
+a butterbeer under his cloak. 
+
+“I look like such an idiot, sitting here on my own,” she 
+muttered. “Lucky I brought something to do.” 
+
+And she pulled out a notebook in which she had been 
+keeping a record of S.P.E.W. members. Harry saw his 
+and Ron’s names at the top of the very short list. It 
+seemed a long time ago that they had sat making up 
+those predictions together, and Hermione had turned 
+up and appointed them secretary and treasurer. 
+
+“You know, maybe I should try and get some of the 
+villagers involved in S.P.E.W.,” Hermione said 
+thoughtfully, looking around the pub. 
+
+“Yeah, right,” said Harry. He took a swig of butterbeer 
+under his cloak. “Hermione, when are you going to 
+give up on this spew stuff?” 
+
+“When house-elves have decent wages and working 
+conditions!” she hissed back. “You know, I’m starting 
+to think it’s time for more direct action. I wonder how 
+you get into the school kitchens?” 
+
+“No idea, ask Fred and George,” said Harry. 
+
+Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, while Harry 
+drank his butterbeer, watching the people in the pub. 
+All of them looked cheerful and relaxed. Ernie 
+Macmillan and Hannah Abbott were swapping 
+
+Page | 354 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Chocolate Frog cards at a nearby table; both of them 
+sporting Support Cedric Diggory\ badges on their 
+cloaks. Right over by the door he saw Cho and a large 
+group of her Ravenclaw friends. She wasn’t wearing a 
+Cedric badge though. ... This cheered up Harry very 
+slightly. ... 
+
+What wouldn’t he have given to be one of these 
+people, sitting around laughing and talking, with 
+nothing to worry about but homework? He imagined 
+how it would have felt to be here if his name hadn’t 
+come out of the Goblet of Fire. He wouldn’t be wearing 
+the Invisibility Cloak, for one thing. Ron would be 
+sitting with him. The three of them would probably be 
+happily imagining what deadly dangerous task the 
+school champions would be facing on Tuesday. He’d 
+have been really looking forward to it, watching them 
+do whatever it was . . . cheering on Cedric with 
+everyone else, safe in a seat at the back of the stands. 
+
+
+
+He wondered how the other champions were feeling. 
+Every time he had seen Cedric lately, he had been 
+surrounded by admirers and looking nervous but 
+excited. Harry glimpsed Fleur Delacour from time to 
+time in the corridors; she looked exactly as she 
+always did, haughty and unruffled. And Krum just 
+sat in the library, poring over books. 
+
+Harry thought of Sirius, and the tight, tense knot in 
+his chest seemed to ease slightly. He would be 
+speaking to him in just over twelve hours, for tonight 
+was the night they were meeting at the common room 
+fire — assuming nothing went wrong, as everything 
+else had done lately. ... 
+
+“Look, it’s Hagrid!” said Hermione. 
+
+
+
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+
+The back of Hagrid ’s enormous shaggy head — he 
+had mercifully abandoned his bunches — emerged 
+over the crowd. Harry wondered why he hadn’t 
+spotted him at once, as Hagrid was so large, but 
+standing up carefully, he saw that Hagrid had been 
+leaning low, talking to Professor Moody. Hagrid had 
+his usual enormous tankard in front of him, but 
+Moody was drinking from his hip flask. Madam 
+Rosmerta, the pretty landlady, didn’t seem to think 
+much of this; she was looking askance at Moody as 
+she collected glasses from tables around them. 
+Perhaps she thought it was an insult to her mulled 
+mead, but Harry knew better. Moody had told them 
+all during their last Defense Against the Dark Arts 
+lesson that he preferred to prepare his own food and 
+drink at all times, as it was so easy for Dark wizards 
+to poison an unattended cup. 
+
+As Harry watched, he saw Hagrid and Moody get up 
+to leave. He waved, then remembered that Hagrid 
+couldn’t see him. Moody, however, paused, his 
+magical eye on the corner where Harry was standing. 
+He tapped Hagrid in the small of the back (being 
+unable to reach his shoulder), muttered something to 
+him, and then the pair of them made their way back 
+across the pub toward Harry and Hermione’s table. 
+
+“All right, Hermione?” said Hagrid loudly. 
+
+“Hello,” said Hermione, smiling back. 
+
+Moody limped around the table and bent down; Harry 
+thought he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until 
+he muttered, “Nice cloak, Potter.” 
+
+Harry stared at him in amazement. The large chunk 
+missing from Moody’s nose was particularly obvious 
+at a few inches’ distance. Moody grinned. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Can your eye — I mean, can you — ?” 
+
+
+
+“Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks,” Moody 
+said quietly. “And it’s come in useful at times, I can 
+tell you.” 
+
+Hagrid was beaming down at Harry too. Harry knew 
+Hagrid couldn’t see him, but Moody had obviously 
+told Hagrid he was there. Hagrid now bent down on 
+the pretext of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, 
+and said in a whisper so low that only Harry could 
+hear it, “Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me 
+cabin. Wear that cloak.” 
+
+Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, “Nice ter see 
+yeh, Hermione,” winked, and departed. Moody 
+followed him. 
+
+“Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?” 
+Harry said, very surprised. 
+
+“Does he?” said Hermione, looking startled. “I wonder 
+what he’s up to? I don’t know whether you should go, 
+Harry. ...” She looked nervously around and hissed, 
+
+“It might make you late for Sirius.” 
+
+It was true that going down to Hagrid ’s at midnight 
+would mean cutting his meeting with Sirius very fine 
+indeed; Hermione suggested sending Hedwig down to 
+Hagrid ’s to tell him he couldn’t go — always assuming 
+she would consent to take the note, of course — 
+
+Harry, however, thought it better just to be quick at 
+whatever Hagrid wanted him for. He was very curious 
+to know what this might be; Hagrid had never asked 
+Harry to visit him so late at night. 
+
+At half past eleven that evening, Harry, who had 
+pretended to go up to bed early, pulled the Invisibility 
+Cloak back over himself and crept back downstairs 
+
+Page | 357 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+through the common room. Quite a few people were 
+still in there. The Creevey brothers had managed to 
+get hold of a stack of Support Cedric Diggoryl badges 
+and were trying to bewitch them to make them say 
+Support Harry Potter\ instead. So far, however, all they 
+had managed to do was get the badges stuck on 
+POTTER STINKS. Harry crept past them to the portrait 
+hole and waited for a minute or so, keeping an eye on 
+his watch. Then Hermione opened the Fat Lady for 
+him from outside as they had planned. He slipped 
+past her with a whispered “Thanks!” and set off 
+through the castle. 
+
+The grounds were very dark. Harry walked down the 
+lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid’s cabin. The 
+inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was 
+also lit up; Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking 
+inside it as he knocked on Hagrid’s front door. 
+
+“You there, Harry?” Hagrid whispered, opening the 
+door and looking around. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, slipping inside the cabin and 
+pulling the cloak down off his head. “What’s up?” 
+
+“Got summat ter show yeh,” said Hagrid. 
+
+There was an air of enormous excitement about 
+Hagrid. He was wearing a flower that resembled an 
+oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It looked as 
+though he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but 
+he had certainly attempted to comb his hair — Harry 
+could see the comb’s broken teeth tangled in it. 
+
+“What’re you showing me?” Harry said warily, 
+wondering if the skrewts had laid eggs, or Hagrid had 
+managed to buy another giant three-headed dog off a 
+stranger in a pub. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Come with me, keep quiet, an’ keep yerself covered 
+with that cloak,” said Hagrid. “We won’ take Fang, he 
+won’ like it. ...” 
+
+“Listen, Hagrid, I can’t stay long. ... I’ve got to be back 
+up at the castle by one o’clock — ” 
+
+But Hagrid wasn’t listening; he was opening the cabin 
+door and striding off into the night. Harry hurried to 
+follow and found, to his great surprise, that Hagrid 
+was leading him to the Beauxbatons carriage. 
+
+“Hagrid, what — ?” 
+
+“Shhh!” said Hagrid, and he knocked three times on 
+the door bearing the crossed golden wands. 
+
+Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk 
+shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She 
+smiled when she saw Hagrid. 
+
+“Ah, ’Agrid ... it is time?” 
+
+“Bong-sewer,” said Hagrid, beaming at her, and 
+holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps. 
+
+Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, Hagrid 
+offered her his arm, and they set off around the edge 
+of the paddock containing Madame Maxime ’s giant 
+winged horses, with Harry, totally bewildered, 
+running to keep up with them. Had Hagrid wanted to 
+show him Madame Maxime? He could see her any old 
+time he wanted ... she wasn’t exactly hard to miss. ... 
+
+But it seemed that Madame Maxime was in for the 
+same treat as Harry, because after a while she said 
+playfully, “Wair is it you are taking me, ’Agrid?” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Yeh’ll enjoy this,” said Hagrid gruffly, “worth seem’, 
+trust me. On’y — don’ go tellin’ anyone I showed yeh, 
+right? Yeh’re not s’posed ter know.” 
+
+“Of course not,” said Madame Maxime, fluttering her 
+long black eyelashes. 
+
+And still they walked, Harry getting more and more 
+irritated as he jogged along in their wake, checking 
+his watch every now and then. Hagrid had some 
+harebrained scheme in hand, which might make him 
+miss Sirius. If they didn’t get there soon, he was going 
+to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and 
+leave Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame 
+Maxime. ... 
+
+But then — when they had walked so far around the 
+perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake 
+were out of sight — Harry heard something. Men were 
+shouting up ahead . . . then came a deafening, 
+earsplitting roar. . . . 
+
+Hagrid led Madame Maxime around a clump of trees 
+and came to a halt. Harry hurried up alongside them 
+— for a split second, he thought he was seeing 
+bonfires, and men darting around them — and then 
+his mouth fell open. 
+
+Dragons. 
+
+Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons 
+were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure 
+fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and 
+snorting — torrents of fire were shooting into the dark 
+sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above 
+the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a 
+silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping 
+and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth- 
+scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping 
+Page | 360 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
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+
+with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine 
+gold spikes around its face, which was shooting 
+mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a 
+gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, 
+which was nearest to them. 
+
+At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, 
+were attempting to control them, pulling on the 
+chains connected to heavy leather straps around their 
+necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high 
+above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with 
+vertical pupils like a cat’s, bulging with either fear or 
+rage, he couldn’t tell which. ... It was making a 
+horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream. ... 
+
+“Keep back there, Hagrid!” yelled a wizard near the 
+fence, straining on the chain he was holding. “They 
+can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I’ve 
+seen this Horntail do forty!” 
+
+“Is’n’ it beautiful?” said Hagrid softly. 
+
+“It’s no good!” yelled another wizard. “Stunning 
+Spells, on the count of three!” 
+
+Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his 
+wand. 
+
+“Stupefy\” they shouted in unison, and the Stunning 
+Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, 
+bursting in showers of stars on the dragons’ scaly 
+hides — 
+
+Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter 
+dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide 
+in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of 
+flame, though still smoking — then, very slowly, it 
+fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragon hit the 
+
+
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+ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn 
+made the trees behind him quake. 
+
+
+
+The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked 
+forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the 
+size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains 
+and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they 
+forced deep into the ground with their wands. 
+
+“Wan’ a closer look?” Hagrid asked Madame Maxime 
+excitedly. The pair of them moved right up to the 
+fence, and Harry followed. The wizard who had 
+warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and 
+Harry realized who it was: Charlie Weasley. 
+
+“All right, Hagrid?” he panted, coming over to talk. 
+“They should be okay now — we put them out with a 
+Sleeping Draft on the way here, thought it might be 
+better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet 
+— but, like you saw, they weren’t happy, not happy at 
+all — ” 
+
+
+
+“What breeds you got here, Charlie?” said Hagrid, 
+gazing at the closest dragon, the black one, with 
+something close to reverence. Its eyes were still just 
+open. Harry could see a strip of gleaming yellow 
+beneath its wrinkled black eyelid. 
+
+“This is a Hungarian Horntail,” said Charlie. “There’s 
+a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one — 
+a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray — and a 
+Chinese Fireball, that’s the red.” 
+
+Charlie looked around; Madame Maxime was strolling 
+away around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the 
+stunned dragons. 
+
+“I didn’t know you were bringing her, Hagrid,” Charlie 
+said, frowning. “The champions aren’t supposed to 
+
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+
+
+
+
+know what’s coming — she’s bound to tell her 
+student, isn’t she?” 
+
+
+
+“Jus’ thought she’d like ter see ’em,” shrugged Hagrid, 
+still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons. 
+
+“Really romantic date, Hagrid,” said Charlie, shaking 
+his head. 
+
+“Four ...” said Hagrid, “so it’s one fer each o’ the 
+champions, is it? What’ve they gotta do — fight ’em?” 
+
+“Just get past them, I think,” said Charlie. “We’ll be 
+on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the 
+ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don’t know 
+why ... but I tell you this, I don’t envy the one who 
+gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end’s as 
+dangerous as its front, look.” 
+
+Charlie pointed toward the Horntail’s tail, and Harry 
+saw long, bronze-colored spikes protruding along it 
+every few inches. 
+
+Five of Charlie’s fellow keepers staggered up to the 
+Horntail at that moment, carrying a clutch of huge 
+granite-gray eggs between them in a blanket. They 
+placed them carefully at the Horntail’s side. Hagrid let 
+out a moan of longing. 
+
+“I’ve got them counted, Hagrid,” said Charlie sternly. 
+Then he said, “How’s Harry?” 
+
+“Fine,” said Hagrid. He was still gazing at the eggs. 
+
+“Just hope he’s still fine after he’s faced this lot,” said 
+Charlie grimly, looking out over the dragons’ 
+enclosure. “I didn’t dare tell Mum what he’s got to do 
+for the first task; she’s already having kittens about 
+him. ...” Charlie imitated his mother’s anxious voice. “ 
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+
+
+
+
+‘ How could they let him enter that tournament, he’s 
+much too young\ I thought they were all safe, I thought 
+there was going to he an age limiti ’ She was in floods 
+after that Daily Prophet article about him. ‘He still 
+cries about his parents\ Oh bless him, I never knew\ ’ ” 
+
+Harry had had enough. Trusting to the fact that 
+Hagrid wouldn’t miss him, with the attractions of four 
+dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, he 
+turned silently and began to walk away, back to the 
+castle. 
+
+He didn’t know whether he was glad he’d seen what 
+was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The 
+first shock was over now. Maybe if he’d seen the 
+dragons for the first time on Tuesday, he would have 
+passed out cold in front of the whole school ... but 
+maybe he would anyway. ... He was going to be armed 
+with his wand — which, just now, felt like nothing 
+more than a narrow strip of wood — against a fifty- 
+foot-high, scaly, spike-ridden, fire-breathing dragon. 
+And he had to get past it. With everyone watching. 
+How? 
+
+Harry sped up, skirting the edge of the forest; he had 
+just under fifteen minutes to get back to the fireside 
+and talk to Sirius, and he couldn’t remember, ever, 
+wanting to talk to someone more than he did right 
+now — when, without warning, he ran into something 
+very solid. 
+
+Harry fell backward, his glasses askew, clutching the 
+cloak around him. A voice nearby said, “Ouch! Who’s 
+there?” 
+
+Harry hastily checked that the cloak was covering 
+him and lay very still, staring up at the dark outline 
+of the wizard he had hit. He recognized the goatee ... 
+it was Karkaroff. 
+
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+
+“Who’s there?” said Karkaroff again, very 
+suspiciously, looking around in the darkness. Harry 
+remained still and silent. After a minute or so, 
+Karkaroff seemed to decide that he had hit some sort 
+of animal; he was looking around at waist height, as 
+though expecting to see a dog. Then he crept back 
+under the cover of the trees and started to edge 
+forward toward the place where the dragons were. 
+
+Very slowly and very carefully, Harry got to his feet 
+and set off again as fast as he could without making 
+too much noise, hurrying through the darkness back 
+toward Hogwarts. 
+
+He had no doubt whatsoever what Karkaroff was up 
+to. He had sneaked off his ship to try and find out 
+what the first task was going to be. He might even 
+have spotted Hagrid and Madame Maxime heading off 
+around the forest together — they were hardly 
+difficult to spot at a distance . . . and now all Karkaroff 
+had to do was follow the sound of voices, and he, like 
+Madame Maxime, would know what was in store for 
+the champions. 
+
+By the looks of it, the only champion who would be 
+facing the unknown on Tuesday was Cedric. 
+
+Harry reached the castle, slipped in through the front 
+doors, and began to climb the marble stairs; he was 
+very out of breath, but he didn’t dare slow down. ... 
+
+He had less than five minutes to get up to the fire. ... 
+
+“Balderdash!” he gasped at the Fat Lady, who was 
+snoozing in her frame in front of the portrait hole. 
+
+“If you say so,” she muttered sleepily, without opening 
+her eyes, and the picture swung forward to admit 
+him. Harry climbed inside. The common room was 
+deserted, and, judging by the fact that it smelled quite 
+
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+normal, Hermione had not needed to set off any 
+Dungbombs to ensure that he and Sirius got privacy. 
+
+Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and threw 
+himself into an armchair in front of the fire. The room 
+was in semidarkness; the flames were the only source 
+of light. Nearby, on a table, the Support Cedric 
+Diggoryl badges the Creeveys had been trying to 
+improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read 
+POTTER REALLY STINKS. Harry looked back into the 
+flames, and jumped. 
+
+Sirius’s head was sitting in the fire. If Harry hadn’t 
+seen Mr. Diggory do exactly this back in the Weasleys’ 
+kitchen, it would have scared him out of his wits. 
+Instead, his face breaking into the first smile he had 
+worn for days, he scrambled out of his chair, 
+crouched down by the hearth, and said, “Sirius — 
+how ’re you doing?” 
+
+Sirius looked different from Harry’s memory of him. 
+When they had said good-bye, Sirius’s face had been 
+gaunt and sunken, surrounded by a quantity of long, 
+black, matted hair — but the hair was short and 
+clean now, Sirius’s face was fuller, and he looked 
+younger, much more like the only photograph Harry 
+had of him, which had been taken at the Potters’ 
+wedding. 
+
+“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. 
+
+“I’m — ” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” — but 
+he couldn’t do it. Before he could stop himself, he was 
+talking more than he’d talked in days — about how 
+no one believed he hadn’t entered the tournament of 
+his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him 
+in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn’t walk down a 
+corridor without being sneered at — and about Ron, 
+Ron not believing him, Ron’s jealousy ... 
+
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+
+
+
+"... and now Hagrid’s just shown me what’s coming in 
+the first task, and it’s dragons, Sirius, and I’m a 
+goner,” he finished desperately. 
+
+Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern, eyes that 
+had not yet lost the look that Azkaban had given 
+them — that deadened, haunted look. He had let 
+Harry talk himself into silence without interruption, 
+but now he said, “Dragons we can deal with, Harry, 
+but we’ll get to that in a minute — I haven’t got long 
+here ... I’ve broken into a wizarding house to use the 
+fire, but they could be back at any time. There are 
+things I need to warn you about.” 
+
+“What?” said Harry, feeling his spirits slip a further 
+few notches. ... Surely there could be nothing worse 
+than dragons coming? 
+
+“Karkaroff,” said Sirius. “Harry, he was a Death Eater. 
+You know what Death Eaters are, don’t you?” 
+
+“Yes — he — what?” 
+
+“He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he 
+got released. I’d bet everything that’s why Dumbledore 
+wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year — to keep an 
+eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into 
+Azkaban in the first place.” 
+
+“Karkaroff got released?” Harry said slowly — his 
+brain seemed to be struggling to absorb yet another 
+piece of shocking information. “Why did they release 
+him?” 
+
+“He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic,” said Sirius 
+bitterly. “He said he’d seen the error of his ways, and 
+then he named names ... he put a load of other people 
+into Azkaban in his place. ... He’s not very popular in 
+there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I 
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+
+
+
+
+can tell, he’s been teaching the Dark Arts to every 
+student who passes through that school of his. So 
+watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well.” 
+
+“Okay,” said Harry slowly. “But ... are you saying 
+Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he 
+did, he’s a really good actor. He seemed furious about 
+it. He wanted to stop me from competing.” 
+
+“We know he’s a good actor,” said Sirius, “because he 
+convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn’t 
+he? Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on the Daily 
+Prophet, Harry — ” 
+
+“ — you and the rest of the world,” said Harry bitterly. 
+
+“ — and reading between the lines of that Skeeter 
+woman’s article last month, Moody was attacked the 
+night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she 
+says it was another false alarm,” Sirius said hastily, 
+seeing Harry about to speak, “but I don’t think so, 
+somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from 
+getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job 
+would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no 
+one’s going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye’s heard 
+intruders a bit too often. But that doesn’t mean he 
+can’t still spot the real thing. Moody was the best 
+Auror the Ministry ever had.” 
+
+“So . . . what are you saying?” said Harry slowly. 
+“Karkaroff’s trying to kill me? But — why?” 
+
+Sirius hesitated. 
+
+“I’ve been hearing some very strange things,” he said 
+slowly. “The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active 
+than usual lately. They showed themselves at the 
+Quidditch World Cup, didn’t they? Someone set off 
+
+
+
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+
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+
+the Dark Mark . . . and then — did you hear about that 
+Ministry of Magic witch who’s gone missing?” 
+
+“Bertha Jorkins?” said Harry. 
+
+“Exactly ... she disappeared in Albania, and that’s 
+definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last ... 
+and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament 
+was coming up, wouldn’t she?” 
+
+“Yeah, but ... it’s not very likely she’d have walked 
+straight into Voldemort, is it?” said Harry. 
+
+“Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins,” said Sirius grimly. 
+“She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above 
+your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, 
+but no brains, none at all. It’s not a good 
+combination, Harry. I’d say she’d be very easy to lure 
+into a trap. 
+
+“So ... so Voldemort could have found out about the 
+tournament?” said Harry. “Is that what you mean? 
+You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?” 
+
+“I don’t know,” said Sirius slowly, “I just don’t know 
+... Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go 
+back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was 
+powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put 
+your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I 
+can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very 
+good way to attack you and make it look like an 
+accident.” 
+
+“Looks like a really good plan from where I’m 
+standing,” said Harry grinning bleakly. “They’ll just 
+have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff.” 
+
+“Right — these dragons,” said Sirius, speaking very 
+quickly now. “There’s a way, Harry. Don’t be tempted 
+
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+
+
+
+to try a Stunning Spell — dragons are strong and too 
+powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single 
+Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a 
+time to overcome a dragon — ” 
+
+“Yeah, I know, I just saw,” said Harry. 
+
+“But you can do it alone,” said Sirius. “There is a way, 
+and a simple spell’s all you need. Just — ” 
+
+But Harry held up a hand to silence him, his heart 
+suddenly pounding as though it would burst. He 
+could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase 
+behind him. 
+
+“Go!” he hissed at Sirius. “Go! There’s someone 
+coming!” 
+
+Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire — if 
+someone saw Sirius’s face within the walls of 
+Hogwarts, they would raise an almighty uproar — the 
+Ministry would get dragged in — he, Harry, would be 
+questioned about Sirius’s whereabouts — 
+
+Harry heard a tiny pop\ in the fire behind him and 
+knew Sirius had gone. He watched the bottom of the 
+spiral staircase. Who had decided to go for a stroll at 
+one o’clock in the morning, and stopped Sirius from 
+telling him how to get past a dragon? 
+
+It was Ron. Dressed in his maroon paisley pajamas, 
+Ron stopped dead facing Harry across the room, and 
+looked around. 
+
+“Who were you talking to?” he said. 
+
+“What’s that got to do with you?” Harry snarled. 
+
+“What are you doing down here at this time of night?” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“I just wondered where you — ” Ron broke off, 
+shrugging. “Nothing. I’m going back to bed.” 
+
+“Just thought you’d come nosing around, did you?” 
+Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what 
+he’d walked in on, knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, 
+but he didn’t care — at this moment he hated 
+everything about Ron, right down to the several 
+inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama 
+trousers. 
+
+“Sorry about that,” said Ron, his face reddening with 
+anger. “Should’ve realized you didn’t want to be 
+disturbed. I’ll let you get on with practicing for your 
+next interview in peace.” 
+
+Harry seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS 
+badges off the table and chucked it, as hard as he 
+could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead 
+and bounced off. 
+
+“There you go,” Harry said. “Something for you to 
+wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if 
+you’re lucky. ... That’s what you want, isn’t it?” 
+
+He strode across the room toward the stairs; he half 
+expected Ron to stop him, he would even have liked 
+Ron to throw a punch at him, but Ron just stood 
+there in his too-small pajamas, and Harry, having 
+stormed upstairs, lay awake in bed fuming for a long 
+time afterward and didn’t hear him come up to bed. 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
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+
+
+
+THE FIRST TASK 
+
+Harry got up on Sunday morning and dressed so 
+inattentively that it was a while before he realized he 
+was trying to pull his hat onto his foot instead of his 
+sock. When he’d finally got all his clothes on the right 
+parts of his body, he hurried off to find Hermione, 
+locating her at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, 
+where she was eating breakfast with Ginny. Feeling 
+too queasy to eat, Harry waited until Hermione had 
+swallowed her last spoonful of porridge, then dragged 
+her out onto the grounds. There, he told her all about 
+the dragons, and about everything Sirius had said, 
+while they took another long walk around the lake. 
+
+Alarmed as she was by Sirius’s warnings about 
+Karkaroff, Hermione still thought that the dragons 
+were the more pressing problem. 
+
+“Let’s just try and keep you alive until Tuesday 
+evening,” she said desperately, “and then we can 
+worry about Karkaroff.” 
+
+
+
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+
+They walked three times around the lake, trying all 
+the way to think of a simple spell that would subdue 
+a dragon. Nothing whatsoever occurred to them, so 
+they retired to the library instead. Here, Harry pulled 
+down every book he could find on dragons, and both 
+of them set to work searching through the large pile. 
+
+“ ‘Talon-clipping by charms ... treating scale-rot ...’ 
+
+This is no good, this is for nutters like Hagrid who 
+want to keep them healthy. ...” 
+
+“ ‘Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the 
+ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which 
+none but the most powerful spells can penetrate ...’ 
+
+But Sirius said a simple one would do it. ...” 
+
+“Let’s try some simple spellbooks, then,” said Harry, 
+throwing aside Men Who Love Dragons Too Much. 
+
+He returned to the table with a pile of spellbooks, set 
+them down, and began to flick through each in turn, 
+Hermione whispering nonstop at his elbow. 
+
+“Well, there are Switching Spells ... but what’s the 
+point of Switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs 
+for wine-gums or something that would make it less 
+dangerous. ... The trouble is, like that book said, not 
+much is going to get through a dragon’s hide. ... I’d 
+say Transfigure it, but something that big, you really 
+haven’t got a hope, I doubt even Professor McGonagall 
+... unless you’re supposed to put the spell on 
+yourself? Maybe to give yourself extra powers? But 
+they’re not simple spells, I mean, we haven’t done any 
+of those in class, I only know about them because I’ve 
+been doing O.W.L. practice papers. ...” 
+
+“Hermione,” Harry said, through gritted teeth, “will 
+you shut up for a bit, please? I’m trying to 
+concentrate.” 
+
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+
+But all that happened, when Hermione fell silent, was 
+that Harry’s brain filled with a sort of blank buzzing, 
+which didn’t seem to allow room for concentration. He 
+stared hopelessly down the index of Basic Hexes for 
+the Busy and Vexed. Instant scalping . . . but dragons 
+had no hair . . . pepper breath . . . that would probably 
+increase a dragon’s firepower ... horn tongue ... just 
+what he needed, to give it an extra weapon . . . 
+
+“Oh no, he’s back again, why can’t he read on his 
+stupid ship?” said Hermione irritably as Viktor Krum 
+slouched in, cast a surly look over at the pair of them, 
+and settled himself in a distant corner with a pile of 
+books. “Come on, Harry, we’ll go back to the common 
+room ... his fan club’ll be here in a moment, twittering 
+away. ...” 
+
+And sure enough, as they left the library, a gang of 
+girls tiptoed past them, one of them wearing a 
+Bulgaria scarf tied around her waist. 
+
+Harry barely slept that night. When he awoke on 
+Monday morning, he seriously considered for the first 
+time ever just running away from Hogwarts. But as 
+he looked around the Great Hall at breakfast time, 
+and thought about what leaving the castle would 
+mean, he knew he couldn’t do it. It was the only place 
+he had ever been happy . . . well, he supposed he must 
+have been happy with his parents too, but he couldn’t 
+remember that. 
+
+Somehow, the knowledge that he would rather be 
+here and facing a dragon than back on Privet Drive 
+with Dudley was good to know; it made him feel 
+slightly calmer. He finished his bacon with difficulty 
+(his throat wasn’t working too well), and as he and 
+Hermione got up, he saw Cedric Diggory leaving the 
+Hufflepuff table. 
+
+
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+
+Cedric still didn’t know about the dragons ... the only 
+champion who didn’t, if Harry was right in thinking 
+that Maxime and Karkaroff would have told Fleur and 
+Krum. ... 
+
+“Hermione, I’ll see you in the greenhouses,” Harry 
+said, coming to his decision as he watched Cedric 
+leaving the Hall. “Go on, I’ll catch you up.” 
+
+“Harry, you’ll be late, the bell’s about to ring — ” 
+
+“I’ll catch you up, okay?” 
+
+By the time Harry reached the bottom of the marble 
+staircase, Cedric was at the top. He was with a load of 
+sixth-year friends. Harry didn’t want to talk to Cedric 
+in front of them; they were among those who had 
+been quoting Rita Skeeter’s article at him every time 
+he went near them. He followed Cedric at a distance 
+and saw that he was heading toward the Charms 
+corridor. This gave Harry an idea. Pausing at a 
+distance from them, he pulled out his wand, and took 
+careful aim. 
+
+“Diffindol” 
+
+Cedric’s bag split. Parchment, quills, and books 
+spilled out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink 
+smashed. 
+
+“Don’t bother,” said Cedric in an exasperated voice as 
+his friends bent down to help him. “Tell Flitwick I’m 
+coming, go on. ...” 
+
+This was exactly what Harry had been hoping for. He 
+slipped his wand back into his robes, waited until 
+Cedric’s friends had disappeared into their classroom, 
+and hurried up the corridor, which was now empty of 
+everyone but himself and Cedric. 
+
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+
+“Hi,” said Cedric, picking up a copy of A Guide to 
+Advanced Transfiguration that was now splattered 
+with ink. “My bag just split ... brand-new and all ...” 
+
+“Cedric,” said Harry, “the first task is dragons.” 
+
+“What?” said Cedric, looking up. 
+
+“Dragons,” said Harry, speaking quickly, in case 
+Professor Flitwick came out to see where Cedric had 
+got to. “They’ve got four, one for each of us, and we’ve 
+got to get past them.” 
+
+Cedric stared at him. Harry saw some of the panic 
+he’d been feeling since Saturday night flickering in 
+Cedric’s gray eyes. 
+
+“Are you sure?” Cedric said in a hushed voice. 
+
+“Dead sure,” said Harry. “I’ve seen them.” 
+
+“But how did you find out? We’re not supposed to 
+know. ...” 
+
+“Never mind,” said Harry quickly — he knew Hagrid 
+would be in trouble if he told the truth. “But I’m not 
+the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know 
+by now — Maxime and Karkaroff both saw the 
+dragons too.” 
+
+Cedric straightened up, his arms full of inky quills, 
+parchment, and books, his ripped bag dangling off 
+one shoulder. He stared at Harry, and there was a 
+puzzled, almost suspicious look in his eyes. 
+
+“Why are you telling me?” he asked. 
+
+Harry looked at him in disbelief. He was sure Cedric 
+wouldn’t have asked that if he had seen the dragons 
+
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+himself. Harry wouldn’t have let his worst enemy face 
+those monsters unprepared — well, perhaps Malfoy or 
+Snape ... 
+
+“It’s just ... fair, isn’t it?” he said to Cedric. “We all 
+know now ... we’re on an even footing, aren’t we?” 
+
+Cedric was still looking at him in a slightly suspicious 
+way when Harry heard a familiar clunking noise 
+behind him. He turned around and saw Mad-Eye 
+Moody emerging from a nearby classroom. 
+
+“Come with me, Potter,” he growled. “Diggory, off you 
+go.” 
+
+Harry stared apprehensively at Moody. Had he 
+overheard them? 
+
+“Er — Professor, I’m supposed to be in Herbology — ” 
+
+“Never mind that, Potter. In my office, please. ...” 
+
+Harry followed him, wondering what was going to 
+happen to him now. What if Moody wanted to know 
+how he’d found out about the dragons? Would Moody 
+go to Dumbledore and tell on Hagrid, or just turn 
+Harry into a ferret? Well, it might be easier to get past 
+a dragon if he were a ferret, Harry thought dully, he’d 
+be smaller, much less easy to see from a height of fifty 
+feet ... 
+
+He followed Moody into his office. Moody closed the 
+door behind them and turned to look at Harry, his 
+magical eye fixed upon him as well as the normal one. 
+
+“That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter,” 
+Moody said quietly. 
+
+
+
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+Harry didn’t know what to say; this wasn’t the 
+reaction he had expected at all. 
+
+
+
+“Sit down,” said Moody, and Harry sat, looking 
+around. 
+
+He had visited this office under two of its previous 
+occupants. In Professor Lockhart’s day, the walls had 
+been plastered with beaming, winking pictures of 
+Professor Lockhart himself. When Lupin had lived 
+here, you were more likely to come across a specimen 
+of some fascinating new Dark creature he had 
+procured for them to study in class. Now, however, 
+the office was full of a number of exceptionally odd 
+objects that Harry supposed Moody had used in the 
+days when he had been an Auror. 
+
+On his desk stood what looked like a large, cracked, 
+glass spinning top; Harry recognized it at once as a 
+Sneakoscope, because he owned one himself, though 
+it was much smaller than Moody’s. In the corner on a 
+small table stood an object that looked something like 
+an extra- squiggly, golden television aerial. It was 
+humming slightly. What appeared to be a mirror hung 
+opposite Harry on the wall, but it was not reflecting 
+the room. Shadowy figures were moving around 
+inside it, none of them clearly in focus. 
+
+“Like my Dark Detectors, do you?” said Moody, who 
+was watching Harry closely. 
+
+“What’s that?” Harry asked, pointing at the squiggly 
+golden aerial. 
+
+“Secrecy Sensor. Vibrates when it detects 
+concealment and lies ... no use here, of course, too 
+much interference — students in every direction lying 
+about why they haven’t done their homework. Been 
+humming ever since I got here. I had to disable my 
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+
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+
+Sneakoscope because it wouldn’t stop whistling. It’s 
+extra-sensitive, picks up stuff about a mile around. Of 
+course, it could be picking up more than kid stuff,” he 
+added in a growl. 
+
+“And what’s the mirror for?” 
+
+“Oh that’s my Foe-Glass. See them out there, 
+skulking around? I’m not really in trouble until I see 
+the whites of their eyes. That’s when I open my 
+trunk.” 
+
+He let out a short, harsh laugh, and pointed to the 
+large trunk under the window. It had seven keyholes 
+in a row. Harry wondered what was in there, until 
+Moody’s next question brought him sharply back to 
+earth. 
+
+“So ... found out about the dragons, have you?” 
+
+Harry hesitated. He’d been afraid of this — but he 
+hadn’t told Cedric, and he certainly wasn’t going to 
+tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules. 
+
+“It’s all right,” said Moody, sitting down and 
+stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. 
+
+“Cheating’s a traditional part of the Tri-wizard 
+Tournament and always has been.” 
+
+“I didn’t cheat,” said Harry sharply. “It was — a sort 
+of accident that I found out.” 
+
+Moody grinned. “I wasn’t accusing you, laddie. I’ve 
+been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as 
+high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old 
+Karkaroff and Maxime won’t be. They’ll have told their 
+champions everything they can. They want to win. 
+They want to beat Dumbledore. They’d like to prove 
+he’s only human.” 
+
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+Moody gave another harsh laugh, and his magical eye 
+swiveled around so fast it made Harry feel queasy to 
+watch it. 
+
+“So ... got any ideas how you’re going to get past your 
+dragon yet?” said Moody. 
+
+“No,” said Harry. 
+
+“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” said Moody gruffly. “I 
+don’t show favoritism, me. I’m just going to give you 
+some good, general advice. And the first bit is — play 
+to your strengths.” 
+
+“I haven’t got any,” said Harry, before he could stop 
+himself. 
+
+“Excuse me,” growled Moody, “you’ve got strengths if I 
+say you’ve got them. Think now. What are you best 
+at?” 
+
+Harry tried to concentrate. What was he best at? 
+
+Well, that was easy, really — 
+
+“Quidditch,” he said dully, “and a fat lot of help — ” 
+
+“That’s right,” said Moody, staring at him very hard, 
+his magical eye barely moving at all. “You’re a damn 
+good flier from what I’ve heard.” 
+
+“Yeah, but ...” Harry stared at him. “I’m not allowed a 
+broom, I’ve only got my wand — ” 
+
+“My second piece of general advice,” said Moody 
+loudly, interrupting him, “is to use a nice, simple 
+spell that will enable you to get what you need.” 
+
+Harry looked at him blankly. What did he need? 
+
+
+
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+“Come on, boy ...” whispered Moody. “Put them 
+together ... it’s not that difficult. ...” 
+
+And it clicked. He was best at flying. He needed to 
+pass the dragon in the air. For that, he needed his 
+Firebolt. And for his Firebolt, he needed — 
+
+“Hermione,” Harry whispered, when he had sped into 
+greenhouse three minutes later, uttering a hurried 
+apology to Professor Sprout as he passed her. 
+“Hermione — I need you to help me.” 
+
+“What d’you think I’ve been trying to do, Harry?” she 
+whispered back, her eyes round with anxiety over the 
+top of the quivering Flutterby Bush she was pruning. 
+
+“Hermione, I need to learn how to do a Summoning 
+Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon.” 
+
+And so they practiced. They didn’t have lunch, but 
+headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with 
+all his might to make various objects fly across the 
+room toward him. He was still having problems. The 
+books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the 
+room and dropping like stones to the floor. 
+
+“Concentrate, Harry, concentrate. ...” 
+
+“What d’you think I’m trying to do?” said Harry 
+angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my 
+head for some reason. ... Okay, try again. ...” 
+
+He wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but 
+Hermione refused point-blank to skive off 
+Arithmancy, and there was no point in staying 
+without her. He therefore had to endure over an hour 
+of Professor Trelawney, who spent half the lesson 
+telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation 
+
+
+
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+to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in 
+July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths. 
+
+“Well, that’s good,” said Harry loudly, his temper 
+getting the better of him, “just as long as it’s not 
+drawn-out. I don’t want to suffer.” 
+
+Ron looked for a moment as though he was going to 
+laugh; he certainly caught Harry’s eye for the first 
+time in days, but Harry was still feeling too resentful 
+toward Ron to care. He spent the rest of the lesson 
+trying to attract small objects toward him under the 
+table with his wand. He managed to make a fly zoom 
+straight into his hand, though he wasn’t entirely sure 
+that was his prowess at Summoning Charms — 
+perhaps the fly was just stupid. 
+
+He forced down some dinner after Divination, then 
+returned to the empty classroom with Hermione, 
+using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. 
+
+They kept practicing until past midnight. They would 
+have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, 
+pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown 
+at him, started chucking chairs across the room. 
+Harry and Hermione left in a hurry before the noise 
+attracted Filch, and went back to the Gryffindor 
+common room, which was now mercifully empty. 
+
+At two o’clock in the morning, Harry stood near the 
+fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects: books, 
+quills, several upturned chairs, an old set of 
+Gobstones, and Neville’s toad, Trevor. Only in the last 
+hour had Harry really got the hang of the Summoning 
+Charm. 
+
+“That’s better, Harry, that’s loads better,” Hermione 
+said, looking exhausted but very pleased. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t 
+manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune 
+dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, 
+“threaten me with a dragon. Right ...” He raised his 
+wand once more. “Accio Dictionary !” 
+
+The heavy book soared out of Hermione ’s hand, flew 
+across the room, and Harry caught it. 
+
+“Harry, I really think you’ve got it!” said Hermione 
+delightedly. 
+
+“Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry said. “The 
+Firebolt’s going to be much farther away than the 
+stuff in here, it’s going to be in the castle, and I’m 
+going to be out there on the grounds. ...” 
+
+“That doesn’t matter,” said Hermione firmly “Just as 
+long as you’re concentrating really, really hard on it, 
+it’ll come. Harry, we’d better get some sleep ... you’re 
+going to need it.” 
+
+Harry had been focusing so hard on learning the 
+Summoning Charm that evening that some of his 
+blind panic had left him. It returned in full measure, 
+however, on the following morning. The atmosphere 
+in the school was one of great tension and excitement. 
+Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the 
+students time to get down to the dragons’ enclosure 
+— though of course, they didn’t yet know what they 
+would find there. 
+
+Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, 
+whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing 
+“ We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potted as he 
+passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced 
+that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his 
+head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, 
+and start trying to curse everyone in sight. Time was 
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+
+behaving in a more peculiar fashion than ever, 
+rushing past in great dollops, so that one moment he 
+seemed to be sitting down in his first lesson, History 
+of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch . . . and 
+then (where had the morning gone? the last of the 
+dragon-free hours?), Professor McGonagall was 
+hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of people 
+were watching. 
+
+“Potter, the champions have to come down onto the 
+grounds now. ... You have to get ready for your first 
+task.” 
+
+“Okay,” said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto 
+his plate with a clatter. 
+
+“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “You’ll be 
+fine!” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry in a voice that was most unlike his 
+own. 
+
+He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She 
+didn’t seem herself either; in fact, she looked nearly 
+as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the 
+stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, 
+she put her hand on his shoulder. 
+
+“Now, don’t panic,” she said, “just keep a cool head. 
+
+... We’ve got wizards standing by to control the 
+situation if it gets out of hand. ... The main thing is 
+just to do your best, and nobody will think any the 
+worse of you. ... Are you all right?” 
+
+“Yes,” Harry heard himself say. “Yes, I’m fine.” 
+
+She was leading him toward the place where the 
+dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when 
+they approached the clump of trees behind which the 
+
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+enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a 
+tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, 
+screening the dragons from view. 
+
+“You’re to go in here with the other champions,” said 
+Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, 
+“and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in 
+there ... he’ll be telling you the — the procedure. ... 
+Good luck.” 
+
+“Thanks,” said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. She left 
+him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside. 
+
+Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low 
+wooden stool. She didn’t look nearly as composed as 
+usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum 
+looked even surlier than usual, which Harry 
+supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was 
+pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric 
+gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling 
+the muscles in his face working rather hard, as 
+though they had forgotten how to do it. 
+
+“Harry! Good-o!” said Bagman happily, looking 
+around at him. “Come in, come in, make yourself at 
+home!” 
+
+Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown 
+cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced 
+champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again. 
+
+“Well, now we’re all here — time to fill you in!” said 
+Bagman brightly. “When the audience has assembled, 
+I’m going to be offering each of you this bag” — he 
+held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at 
+them — “from which you will each select a small 
+model of the thing you are about to face! There are 
+different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell 
+
+
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+you something else too . . . ah, yes . . . your task is to 
+collect the golden egg\” 
+
+Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to 
+show that he understood Bagman’s words, and then 
+started pacing around the tent again; he looked 
+slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn’t 
+reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be 
+sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly 
+how Harry felt. But they, at least, had volunteered for 
+this. ... 
+
+And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of 
+pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their 
+owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking. ... Harry 
+felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a 
+different species. And then — it seemed like about a 
+second later to Harry — Bagman was opening the 
+neck of the purple silk sack. 
+
+“Ladies first,” he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour. 
+
+She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out 
+a tiny, perfect model of a dragon — a Welsh Green. It 
+had the number two around its neck. And Harry 
+knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of 
+surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he 
+had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what 
+was coming. 
+
+The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the 
+scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three 
+around its neck. He didn’t even blink, just sat back 
+down and stared at the ground. 
+
+Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the 
+blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one 
+tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry 
+put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the 
+
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+
+Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It 
+stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared 
+its minuscule fangs. 
+
+“Well, there you are!” said Bagman. “You have each 
+pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers 
+refer to the order in which you are to take on the 
+dragons, do you see? Now, I’m going to have to leave 
+you in a moment, because I’m commentating. Mr. 
+Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure 
+when you hear a whistle, all right? Now ... Harry ... 
+could I have a quick word? Outside?” 
+
+“Er ... yes,” said Harry blankly, and he got up and 
+went out of the tent with Bagman, who walked him a 
+short distance away, into the trees, and then turned 
+to him with a fatherly expression on his face. 
+
+“Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. “I — no, nothing.” 
+
+“Got a plan?” said Bagman, lowering his voice 
+conspiratorially. “Because I don’t mind sharing a few 
+pointers, if you’d like them, you know. I mean,” 
+Bagman continued, lowering his voice still further, 
+“you’re the underdog here, Harry. ... Anything I can 
+do to help ...” 
+
+“No,” said Harry so quickly he knew he had sounded 
+rude, “no — I — I know what I’m going to do, thanks.” 
+
+“Nobody would know, Harry,” said Bagman, winking 
+at him. 
+
+“No, I’m fine,” said Harry, wondering why he kept 
+telling people this, and wondering whether he had 
+ever been less fine. “I’ve got a plan worked out, I — ” 
+
+
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+A whistle had blown somewhere. 
+
+
+
+“Good lord, I’ve got to run!” said Bagman in alarm, 
+and he hurried off. 
+
+Harry walked back to the tent and saw Cedric 
+emerging from it, greener than ever. Harry tried to 
+wish him luck as he walked past, but all that came 
+out of his mouth was a sort of hoarse grunt. 
+
+Harry went back inside to Fleur and Krum. Seconds 
+later, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant 
+Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face- 
+to-face with the living counterpart of his model. ... 
+
+It was worse than Harry could ever have imagined, 
+sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed . . . 
+yelled . . . gasped like a single many-headed entity, as 
+Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the 
+Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the 
+ground. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric’s 
+steps, around and around the tent. And Bagman’s 
+commentary made everything much, much worse. ... 
+Horrible pictures formed in Harry’s mind as he heard: 
+“Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow” ... “He’s 
+taking risks, this one!” ... “Clever move — pity it 
+didn’t work!” 
+
+And then, after about fifteen minutes, Harry heard 
+the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: 
+Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the 
+golden egg. 
+
+“Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now 
+the marks from the judges!” 
+
+But he didn’t shout out the marks; Harry supposed 
+the judges were holding them up and showing them 
+to the crowd. 
+
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+
+“One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle 
+blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!” 
+
+
+
+Fleur was trembling from head to foot; Harry felt more 
+warmly toward her than he had done so far as she left 
+the tent with her head held high and her hand 
+clutching her wand. He and Krum were left alone, at 
+opposite sides of the tent, avoiding each other’s gaze. 
+
+The same process started again. ... “Oh I’m not sure 
+that was wise!” they could hear Bagman shouting 
+gleefully. “Oh . . . nearly! Careful now . . . good lord, I 
+thought she’d had it then!” 
+
+Ten minutes later, Harry heard the crowd erupt into 
+applause once more. ... Fleur must have been 
+successful too. A pause, while Fleur’s marks were 
+being shown . . . more clapping . . . then, for the third 
+time, the whistle. 
+
+“And here comes Mr. Krum!” cried Bagman, and 
+Krum slouched out, leaving Harry quite alone. 
+
+He felt much more aware of his body than usual; very 
+aware of the way his heart was pumping fast, and his 
+fingers tingling with fear ... yet at the same time, he 
+seemed to be outside himself, seeing the walls of the 
+tent, and hearing the crowd, as though from far away. 
+
+
+
+“Very daring!” Bagman was yelling, and Harry heard 
+the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, 
+while the crowd drew its collective breath. “That’s 
+some nerve he’s showing — and — yes, he’s got the 
+egg!” 
+
+Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking 
+glass; Krum had finished — it would be Harry’s turn 
+any moment. 
+
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+He stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be 
+made of marshmallow. He waited. And then he heard 
+the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance 
+of the tent, the panic rising into a crescendo inside 
+him. And now he was walking past the trees, through 
+a gap in the enclosure fence. 
+
+He saw everything in front of him as though it was a 
+very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and 
+hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands 
+that had been magicked there since he’d last stood on 
+this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other 
+end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of 
+eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon 
+him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her 
+spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard 
+ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, 
+but whether friendly or not, Harry didn’t know or 
+care. It was time to do what he had to do ... to focus 
+his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that 
+was his only chance. ... 
+
+He raised his wand. 
+
+“Accio Firebolti” he shouted. 
+
+Harry waited, every fiber of him hoping, praying. ... If 
+it hadn’t worked ... if it wasn’t coming ... He seemed 
+to be looking at everything around him through some 
+sort of shimmering, transparent barrier, like a heat 
+haze, which made the enclosure and the hundreds of 
+faces around him swim strangely. ... 
+
+And then he heard it, speeding through the air behind 
+him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling toward 
+him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the 
+enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, 
+waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making 
+even more noise. ... Bagman was shouting something 
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+
+... but Harry’s ears were not working properly 
+anymore ... listening wasn’t important. ... 
+
+He swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from 
+the ground. And a second later, something 
+miraculous happened. ... 
+
+As he soared upward, as the wind rushed through his 
+hair, as the crowd’s faces became mere flesh-colored 
+pinpricks below, and the Horntail shrank to the size 
+of a dog, he realized that he had left not only the 
+ground behind, but also his fear. . . . He was back 
+where he belonged. ... 
+
+This was just another Quidditch match, that was all 
+... just another Quidditch match, and that Horntail 
+was just another ugly opposing team. ... 
+
+He looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the 
+gold one, gleaming against its cement-colored fellows, 
+residing safely between the dragon’s front legs. 
+“Okay,” Harry told himself, “diversionary tactics ... 
+let’s go. ...” 
+
+He dived. The Horntail’s head followed him; he knew 
+what it was going to do and pulled out of the dive just 
+in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where 
+he would have been had he not swerved away . . . but 
+Harry didn’t care ... that was no more than dodging a 
+Bludger. ... 
+
+“Great Scott, he can fly!” yelled Bagman as the crowd 
+shrieked and gasped. “Are you watching this, Mr. 
+Krum?” 
+
+Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still 
+following his progress; its head revolving on its long 
+neck — if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy — 
+
+
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+but better not push it too long, or it would be 
+breathing fire again — 
+
+Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its 
+mouth, but this time he was less lucky — he missed 
+the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet 
+him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the 
+long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes — 
+
+He could feel it stinging, he could hear screaming and 
+groans from the crowd, but the cut didn’t seem to be 
+deep. ... Now he zoomed around the back of the 
+Horntail, and a possibility occurred to him. ... 
+
+The Horntail didn’t seem to want to take off, she was 
+too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and 
+twisted, furling and unfurling her wings and keeping 
+those fearsome yellow eyes on Harry, she was afraid 
+to move too far from them . . . but he had to persuade 
+her to do it, or he’d never get near them. ... The trick 
+was to do it carefully, gradually. . . . 
+
+He began to fly, first this way, then the other, not 
+near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, 
+but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept 
+her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, 
+watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs 
+bared. ... 
+
+He flew higher. The Horntail’s head rose with him, her 
+neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, 
+like a snake before its charmer. . . . 
+
+Harry rose a few more feet, and she let out a roar of 
+exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was 
+longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was 
+too high to reach now. ... She shot fire into the air, 
+which he dodged. ... Her jaws opened wide. ... 
+
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+“Come on,” Harry hissed, swerving tantalizingly above 
+her, “come on, come and get me ... up you get now ...” 
+
+And then she reared, spreading her great, black, 
+leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small 
+airplane — and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew 
+what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, 
+he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he 
+could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her 
+clawed front legs — he had taken his hands off his 
+Firebolt — he had seized the golden egg — 
+
+And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was 
+soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely 
+under his uninjured arm, and it was as though 
+somebody had just turned the volume back up — for 
+the first time, he became properly aware of the noise 
+of the crowd, which was screaming and applauding as 
+loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup — 
+
+“Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at 
+that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his 
+egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. 
+Potter!” 
+
+Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to 
+subdue the Horntail, and, over at the entrance to the 
+enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, 
+and Hagrid hurrying to meet him, all of them waving 
+him toward them, their smiles evident even from this 
+distance. He flew back over the stands, the noise of 
+the crowd pounding his eardrums, and came in 
+smoothly to land, his heart lighter than it had been in 
+weeks. ... He had got through the first task, he had 
+survived. ... 
+
+“That was excellent, Potter!” cried Professor 
+McGonagall as he got off the Firebolt — which from 
+her was extravagant praise. He noticed that her hand 
+
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+
+
+
+
+shook as she pointed at his shoulder. “You’ll need to 
+see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your 
+score. ... Over there, she’s had to mop up Diggory 
+already. ...” 
+
+“Yeh did it, Harry!” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Yeh did it! 
+An’ agains’ the Horntail an’ all, an’ yeh know Charlie 
+said that was the wors’ — ” 
+
+“Thanks, Hagrid,” said Harry loudly, so that Hagrid 
+wouldn’t blunder on and reveal that he had shown 
+Harry the dragons beforehand. 
+
+Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical 
+eye was dancing in its socket. 
+
+“Nice and easy does the trick, Potter,” he growled. 
+
+“Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please ...” said 
+Professor McGonagall. 
+
+Harry walked out of the enclosure, still panting, and 
+saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a 
+second tent, looking worried. 
+
+“Dragons!” she said, in a disgusted tone, pulling 
+Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he 
+could make out Cedric’s shadow through the canvas, 
+but Cedric didn’t seem to be badly injured; he was 
+sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry’s 
+shoulder, talking furiously all the while. “Last year 
+dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to 
+bring into this school next? You’re very lucky ... this 
+is quite shallow ... it’ll need cleaning before I heal it 
+up, though. ...” 
+
+She cleaned the cut with a dab of some purple liquid 
+that smoked and stung, but then poked his shoulder 
+with her wand, and he felt it heal instantly. 
+
+Page | 394 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“Now, just sit quietly for a minute — sit! And then you 
+can go and get your score.” 
+
+She bustled out of the tent and he heard her go next 
+door and say, “How does it feel now, Diggory?” 
+
+Harry didn’t want to sit still: He was too full of 
+adrenaline. He got to his feet, wanting to see what 
+was going on outside, but before he’d reached the 
+mouth of the tent, two people had come darting inside 
+— Hermione, followed closely by Ron. 
+
+“Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said squeakily. 
+There were fingernail marks on her face where she 
+had been clutching it in fear. “You were amazing! You 
+really were!” 
+
+But Harry was looking at Ron, who was very white 
+and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost. 
+
+“Harry,” he said, very seriously, “whoever put your 
+name in that goblet — I — I reckon they’re trying to 
+do you in!” 
+
+It was as though the last few weeks had never 
+happened — as though Harry were meeting Ron for 
+the first time, right after he’d been made champion. 
+
+“Caught on, have you?” said Harry coldly. “Took you 
+long enough.” 
+
+Hermione stood nervously between them, looking 
+from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth 
+uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologize 
+and suddenly he found he didn’t need to hear it. 
+
+“It’s okay,” he said, before Ron could get the words 
+out. “Forget it.” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“No,” said Ron, “I shouldn’t’ve — ” 
+
+
+
+“ Forget it,” Harry said. 
+
+Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned 
+back. 
+
+Hermione burst into tears. 
+
+“There’s nothing to cry about!” Harry told her, 
+bewildered. 
+
+“You two are so stupid).” she shouted, stamping her 
+foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. 
+Then, before either of them could stop her, she had 
+given both of them a hug and dashed away, now 
+positively howling. 
+
+“Barking mad,” said Ron, shaking his head. “Harry, 
+c’mon, they’ll be putting up your scores. ...” 
+
+Picking up the golden egg and his Firebolt, feeling 
+more elated than he would have believed possible an 
+hour ago, Harry ducked out of the tent, Ron by his 
+side, talking fast. 
+
+“You were the best, you know, no competition. Cedric 
+did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on 
+the ground . . . turned it into a dog ... he was trying to 
+make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, 
+it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it sort 
+of worked, because he did get the egg, but he got 
+burned as well — the dragon changed its mind 
+halfway through and decided it would rather have 
+him than the Labrador; he only just got away. And 
+that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she 
+was trying to put it into a trance — well, that kind of 
+worked too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and 
+this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught 
+Page | 396 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+fire — she put it out with a bit of water out of her 
+wand. And Krum — you won’t believe this, but he 
+didn’t even think of flying! He was probably the best 
+after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right 
+in the eye. Only thing is, it went trampling around in 
+agony and squashed half the real eggs — they took 
+marks off for that, he wasn’t supposed to do any 
+damage to them.” 
+
+Ron drew breath as he and Harry reached the edge of 
+the enclosure. Now that the Horntail had been taken 
+away, Harry could see where the five judges were 
+sitting — right at the other end, in raised seats 
+draped in gold. 
+
+“It’s marks out of ten from each one,” Ron said, and 
+Harry, squinting up the field, saw the first judge — 
+Madame Maxime — raise her wand in the air. What 
+looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which 
+twisted itself into a large figure eight. 
+
+“Not bad!” said Ron as the crowd applauded. “I 
+suppose she took marks off for your shoulder. ...” 
+
+Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into 
+the air. 
+
+“Looking good!” Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the 
+back. 
+
+Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a nine. The crowd 
+was cheering harder than ever. 
+
+Ludo Bagman — ten. 
+
+“Ten?” said Harry in disbelief. “But ... I got hurt. ... 
+What’s he playing at?” 
+
+“Harry, don’t complain!” Ron yelled excitedly. 
+
+Page | 397 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a 
+moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too 
+— four. 
+
+
+
+“What?” Ron bellowed furiously. “Four? You lousy, 
+biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!” 
+
+But Harry didn’t care, he wouldn’t have cared if 
+Karkaroff had given him zero; Ron’s indignation on 
+his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him. 
+He didn’t tell Ron this, of course, but his heart felt 
+lighter than air as he turned to leave the enclosure. 
+And it wasn’t just Ron ... those weren’t only 
+Gryffindors cheering in the crowd. When it had come 
+to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of 
+the school had been on his side as well as Cedric’s. ... 
+He didn’t care about the Slytherins, he could stand 
+whatever they threw at him now. 
+
+“You’re tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!” said 
+Charlie Weasley, hurrying to meet them as they set off 
+back toward the school. “Listen, I’ve got to run, I’ve 
+got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I’d tell her 
+what happened — but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah 
+— and they told me to tell you you’ve got to hang 
+around for a few more minutes. ... Bagman wants a 
+word, back in the champions’ tent.” 
+
+Ron said he would wait, so Harry reentered the tent, 
+which somehow looked quite different now: friendly 
+and welcoming. He thought back to how he’d felt 
+while dodging the Horntail, and compared it to the 
+long wait before he’d walked out to face it. ... There 
+was no comparison; the wait had been immeasurably 
+worse. 
+
+Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all came in together. One 
+side of Cedric’s face was covered in a thick orange 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
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+
+paste, which was presumably mending his burn. He 
+grinned at Harry when he saw him. 
+
+“Good one, Harry.” 
+
+“And you,” said Harry, grinning back. 
+
+“Well done, all of you!” said Ludo Bagman, bouncing 
+into the tent and looking as pleased as though he 
+personally had just got past a dragon. “Now, just a 
+quick few words. You’ve got a nice long break before 
+the second task, which will take place at half past 
+nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth — 
+but we’re giving you something to think about in the 
+meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs 
+you’re all holding, you will see that they open ... see 
+the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside 
+the egg — because it will tell you what the second 
+task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? 
+Sure? Well, off you go, then!” 
+
+Harry left the tent, rejoined Ron, and they started to 
+walk back around the edge of the forest, talking hard; 
+Harry wanted to hear what the other champions had 
+done in more detail. Then, as they rounded the clump 
+of trees behind which Harry had first heard the 
+dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them. 
+
+It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes 
+today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended 
+perfectly against them. 
+
+“Congratulations, Harry!” she said, beaming at him. “I 
+wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you 
+felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the 
+fairness of the scoring?” 
+
+“Yeah, you can have a word,” said Harry savagely. 
+“Good-bye.” 
+
+Page | 399 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+And he set off back to the castle with Ron. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+THE HOUSE-ELF LIBERATION FRONT 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery that 
+evening to find Pigwidgeon, so that Harry could send 
+Sirius a letter telling him that he had managed to get 
+past his dragon unscathed. On the way, Harry filled 
+Ron in on everything Sirius had told him about 
+Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that 
+Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they 
+entered the Owlery Ron was saying that they ought to 
+have suspected it all along. 
+
+“Fits, doesn’t it?” he said. “Remember what Malfoy 
+said on the train, about his dad being friends with 
+Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. 
+They were probably running around in masks 
+together at the World Cup. ... I’ll tell you one thing, 
+though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name 
+in the goblet, he’s going to be feeling really stupid 
+now, isn’t he? Didn’t work, did it? You only got a 
+scratch! Come here — I’ll do it — ” 
+
+Pigwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery 
+he was flying around and around Harry’s head, 
+
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+
+
+
+hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of 
+the air and held him still while Harry attached the 
+letter to his leg. 
+
+“There’s no way any of the other tasks are going to be 
+that dangerous, how could they be?” Ron went on as 
+he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. “You know 
+what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, 
+I’m serious.” 
+
+Harry knew that Ron was only saying this to make up 
+for his behavior of the last few weeks, but he 
+appreciated it all the same. Hermione, however, 
+leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and 
+frowned at Ron. 
+
+“Harry’s got a long way to go before he finishes this 
+tournament,” she said seriously. “If that was the first 
+task, I hate to think what’s coming next.” 
+
+“Right little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” said Ron. 
+“You and Professor Trelawney should get together 
+sometime.” 
+
+He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon 
+plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull 
+himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg 
+was much longer and heavier than usual — Harry 
+hadn’t been able to resist giving Sirius a blow-by-blow 
+account of exactly how he had swerved, circled, and 
+dodged the Horntail. They watched Pigwidgeon 
+disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, 
+
+“Well, we’d better get downstairs for your surprise 
+party, Harry — Fred and George should have nicked 
+enough food from the kitchens by now.” 
+
+Sure enough, when they entered the Gryffindor 
+common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. 
+There were mountains of cakes and flagons of 
+
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+
+
+
+
+pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee 
+Jordan had let off some Filibuster’s Fireworks, so that 
+the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean 
+Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up 
+some impressive new banners, most of which depicted 
+Harry zooming around the Horntail’s head on his 
+Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his 
+head on fire. 
+
+Harry helped himself to food; he had almost forgotten 
+what it was like to feel properly hungry, and sat down 
+with Ron and Hermione. He couldn’t believe how 
+happy he felt; he had Ron back on his side, he’d 
+gotten through the first task, and he wouldn’t have to 
+face the second one for three months. 
+
+“Blimey, this is heavy,” said Lee Jordan, picking up 
+the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and 
+weighing it in his hands. “Open it, Harry, go on! Let’s 
+just see what’s inside it!” 
+
+“He’s supposed to work out the clue on his own,” 
+Hermione said swiftly. “It’s in the tournament rules. 
+
+
+
+“I was supposed to work out how to get past the 
+dragon on my own too,” Harry muttered, so only 
+Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather 
+guiltily. 
+
+“Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!” several people echoed. 
+
+Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his 
+fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around 
+it and prised it open. 
+
+It was hollow and completely empty — but the 
+moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a 
+loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The 
+
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+
+
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+
+nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost 
+orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party, 
+who had all been playing the musical saw. 
+
+“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears. 
+
+“What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan, staring at 
+the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded 
+like a banshee. ... Maybe you’ve got to get past one of 
+those next, Harry!” 
+
+“It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who 
+had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over 
+the floor. “You’re going to have to fight the Cruciatus 
+Curse!” 
+
+“Don’t be a prat, Neville, that’s illegal,” said George. 
+“They wouldn’t use the Cruciatus Curse on the 
+champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy 
+singing ... maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s 
+in the shower, Harry.” 
+
+“Want a jam tart, Hermione?” said Fred. 
+
+Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was 
+offering her. Fred grinned. 
+
+“It’s all right,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to 
+them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch — ” 
+
+Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, 
+choked and spat it out. Fred laughed. 
+
+“Just my little joke, Neville. ...” 
+
+Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, “Did you get 
+all this from the kitchens, Fred?” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Yep,” said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high- 
+pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “ ‘Anything 
+we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They’re dead 
+helpful ... get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.” 
+
+“How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an 
+innocently casual sort of voice. 
+
+“Easy,” said Fred, “concealed door behind a painting 
+of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles 
+and — ” He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. 
+“Why?” 
+
+“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly. 
+
+“Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike 
+now, are you?” said George. “Going to give up all the 
+leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?” 
+
+Several people chortled. Hermione didn’t answer. 
+
+“Don’t you go upsetting them and telling them they’ve 
+got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly. 
+“You’ll put them off their cooking!” 
+
+Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning 
+into a large canary. 
+
+“Oh — sorry, Neville!” Fred shouted over all the 
+laughter. “I forgot — it was the custard creams we 
+hexed — ” 
+
+Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and 
+once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking 
+entirely normal. He even joined in laughing. 
+
+“Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable 
+crowd. “George and I invented them — seven Sickles 
+each, a bargain!” 
+
+Page | 405 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+It was nearly one in the morning when Harry finally 
+went up to the dormitory with Ron, Neville, Seamus, 
+and Dean. Before he pulled the curtains of his four- 
+poster shut, Harry set his tiny model of the 
+Hungarian Horntail on the table next to his bed, 
+where it yawned, curled up, and closed its eyes. 
+
+Really, Harry thought, as he pulled the hangings on 
+his four-poster closed, Hagrid had a point . . . they 
+were all right, really, dragons. ... 
+
+The start of December brought wind and sleet to 
+Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in 
+winter, Harry was glad of its fires and thick walls 
+every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the 
+lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black 
+sails billowing against the dark skies. He thought the 
+Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly 
+too. Hagrid, he noticed, was keeping Madame 
+Maxime’s horses well provided with their preferred 
+drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from 
+the trough in the corner of their paddock was enough 
+to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class 
+light-headed. This was unhelpful, as they were still 
+tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits 
+about them. 
+
+“I’m not sure whether they hibernate or not,” Hagrid 
+told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch 
+next lesson. “Thought we’d jus’ try an’ see if they 
+fancied a kip ... we’ll jus’ settle ’em down in these 
+boxes. ...” 
+
+There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their 
+desire to kill one another had not been exercised out 
+of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet 
+in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, 
+scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings 
+and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the 
+most repulsive things Harry had ever seen. The class 
+Page | 406 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had 
+brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets. 
+
+“Well jus’ lead ’em in here,” Hagrid said, “an’ put the 
+lids on, and we’ll see what happens.” 
+
+But the skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate, and 
+did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes 
+and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, “Don’ panic, 
+now, don’ panic!” while the skrewts rampaged around 
+the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering 
+wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class — Malfoy, 
+Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead — had fled into 
+Hagrid ’s cabin through the back door and barricaded 
+themselves in; Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, 
+were among those who remained outside trying to 
+help Hagrid. Together they managed to restrain and 
+tie up nine of the skrewts, though at the cost of 
+numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one skrewt 
+was left. 
+
+“Don’ frighten him, now!” Hagrid shouted as Ron and 
+Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at 
+the skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on 
+them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. “Jus’ 
+try an’ slip the rope ’round his sting, so he won’ hurt 
+any o’ the others!” 
+
+“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that!” Ron shouted angrily 
+as he and Harry backed into the wall of Hagrid ’s 
+cabin, still holding the skrewt off with their sparks. 
+
+“Well, well, well ... this does look like fun.” 
+
+Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid ’s garden fence, 
+looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick 
+magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and 
+her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm. 
+
+
+
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+
+Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the skrewt 
+that was cornering Harry and Ron and flattened it; a 
+blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the 
+pumpkin plants nearby. 
+
+“Who ’re you?” Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he 
+slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt’s sting and 
+tightened it. 
+
+“Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter,” Rita replied, 
+beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted. 
+
+“Thought Dumbledore said you weren’ allowed inside 
+the school anymore,” said Hagrid, frowning slightly as 
+he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started 
+tugging it over to its fellows. 
+
+Rita acted as though she hadn’t heard what Hagrid 
+had said. 
+
+“What are these fascinating creatures called?” she 
+asked, beaming still more widely. 
+
+“Blast-Ended Skrewts,” grunted Hagrid. 
+
+“Really?” said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. 
+“I’ve never heard of them before ... where do they 
+come from?” 
+
+Harry noticed a dull red flush rising up out of 
+Hagrid’s wild black beard, and his heart sank. Where 
+had Hagrid got the skrewts from? Hermione, who 
+seemed to be thinking along these lines, said quickly, 
+“They’re very interesting, aren’t they? Aren’t they, 
+Harry?” 
+
+“What? Oh yeah ... ouch ... interesting,” said Harry as 
+she stepped on his foot. 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+“Ah, you’re here, Harry!” said Rita Skeeter as she 
+looked around. “So you like Care of Magical 
+Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Harry stoutly. Hagrid beamed at him. 
+
+“Lovely,” said Rita. “Really lovely. Been teaching 
+long?” she added to Hagrid. 
+
+Harry noticed her eyes travel over Dean (who had a 
+nasty cut across one cheek), Lavender (whose robes 
+were badly singed), Seamus (who was nursing several 
+burnt fingers), and then to the cabin windows, where 
+most of the class stood, their noses pressed against 
+the glass waiting to see if the coast was clear. 
+
+“This is o’ny me second year,” said Hagrid. 
+
+“Lovely... I don’t suppose you’d like to give an 
+interview, would you? Share some of your experience 
+of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological 
+column every Wednesday, as I’m sure you know. We 
+could feature these — er — Bang-Ended Scoots.” 
+
+“Blast-Ended Skrewts,” Hagrid said eagerly. “Er — 
+yeah, why not?” 
+
+Harry had a very bad feeling about this, but there was 
+no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Rita 
+Skeeter seeing, so he had to stand and watch in 
+silence as Hagrid and Rita Skeeter made 
+arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a 
+good long interview later that week. Then the bell 
+rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson. 
+
+“Well, good-bye, Harry!” Rita Skeeter called merrily to 
+him as he set off with Ron and Hermione. “Until 
+Friday night, then, Hagrid!” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Shell twist everything he says,” Harry said under his 
+breath. 
+
+“Just as long as he didn’t import those skrewts 
+illegally or anything,” said Hermione desperately. 
+
+They looked at one another — it was exactly the sort 
+of thing Hagrid might do. 
+
+“Hagrid’s been in loads of trouble before, and 
+Dumbledore’s never sacked him,” said Ron 
+consolingly. “Worst that can happen is Hagrid’ll have 
+to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry ... did I say worst? I 
+meant best.” 
+
+Harry and Hermione laughed, and, feeling slightly 
+more cheerful, went off to lunch. 
+
+Harry thoroughly enjoyed double Divination that 
+afternoon; they were still doing star charts and 
+predictions, but now that he and Ron were friends 
+once more, the whole thing seemed very funny again. 
+Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with 
+the pair of them when they had been predicting their 
+own horrific deaths, quickly became irritated as they 
+sniggered through her explanation of the various 
+ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life. 
+
+“I would think,” she said, in a mystical whisper that 
+did not conceal her obvious annoyance, “that some of 
+us” — she stared very meaningfully at Harry — 
+
+“might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I 
+have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat 
+here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult 
+the orb overpowered me. I arose, I settled myself 
+before it, and I gazed into its crystalline depths . . . and 
+what do you think I saw gazing back at me?” 
+
+“An ugly old bat in outsize specs?” Ron muttered 
+under his breath. 
+
+Page | 410 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire -J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Harry fought hard to keep his face straight. 
+
+“Death, my dears.” 
+
+Parvati and Lavender both put their hands over their 
+mouths, looking horrified. 
+
+“Yes,” said Professor Trelawney, nodding impressively, 
+“it comes, ever closer, it circles overhead like a 
+vulture, ever lower ... ever lower over the castle. ...” 
+
+She stared pointedly at Harry, who yawned very 
+widely and obviously. 
+
+“It’d be a bit more impressive if she hadn’t done it 
+about eighty times before,” Harry said as they finally 
+regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath 
+Professor Trelawney’s room. “But if I’d dropped dead 
+every time she’s told me I’m going to, I’d be a medical 
+miracle.” 
+
+“You’d be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost,” said 
+Ron, chortling, as they passed the Bloody Baron going 
+in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring 
+sinisterly. “At least we didn’t get homework. I hope 
+Hermione got loads off Professor Vector, I love not 
+working when she is. ...” 
+
+But Hermione wasn’t at dinner, nor was she in the 
+library when they went to look for her afterward. The 
+only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron hovered 
+behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, 
+debating in whispers with Harry whether he should 
+ask for an autograph — but then Ron realized that six 
+or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, 
+debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his 
+enthusiasm for the idea. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Wonder where she’s got to?” Ron said as he and 
+Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower. 
+
+
+
+“Dunno ... balderdash.” 
+
+But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward 
+when the sound of racing feet behind them 
+announced Hermione’s arrival. 
+
+“Harry!” she panted, skidding to a halt beside him 
+(the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). 
+“Harry, you’ve got to come — you’ve got to come, the 
+most amazing thing’s happened — please — ” 
+
+She seized Harry’s arm and started to try to drag him 
+back along the corridor. 
+
+“What’s the matter?” Harry said. 
+
+“I’ll show you when we get there — oh come on, quick 
+
+
+
+Harry looked around at Ron; he looked back at Harry, 
+intrigued. 
+
+“Okay,” Harry said, starting off back down the 
+corridor with Hermione, Ron hurrying to keep up. 
+
+“Oh don’t mind me!” the Fat Lady called irritably after 
+them. “Don’t apologize for bothering me! I’ll just hang 
+here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?” 
+
+“Yeah, thanks!” Ron shouted over his shoulder. 
+
+“Hermione, where are we going?” Harry asked, after 
+she had led them down through six floors, and 
+started down the marble staircase into the entrance 
+hall. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+“You’ll see, you’ll see in a minute!” said Hermione 
+excitedly. 
+
+She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and 
+hurried toward the door through which Cedric 
+Diggory had gone the night after the Goblet of Fire 
+had regurgitated his and Harry’s names. Harry had 
+never been through here before. He and Ron followed 
+Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of 
+ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the 
+one that led to Snape’s dungeon, they found 
+themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with 
+torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that 
+were mainly of food. 
+
+“Oh hang on ...” said Harry slowly, halfway down the 
+corridor. “Wait a minute, Hermione. ...” 
+
+“What?” She turned around to look at him, 
+anticipation all over her face. 
+
+“I know what this is about,” said Harry. 
+
+He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just 
+behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit 
+bowl. 
+
+“Hermione!” said Ron, cottoning on. “You’re trying to 
+rope us into that spew stuff again!” 
+
+“No, no, I’m not!” she said hastily. “And it’s not spew, 
+Ron — ” 
+
+“Changed the name, have you?” said Ron, frowning at 
+her. “What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation 
+Front? I’m not barging into that kitchen and trying to 
+make them stop work, I’m not doing it — ” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+‘Tm not asking you to!” Hermione said impatiently. “I 
+came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I 
+found — oh come on, Harry, I want to show you!” 
+
+She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the 
+picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her 
+forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began 
+to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a 
+large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled 
+the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, 
+forcing him inside. 
+
+He had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high- 
+ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with 
+mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped 
+around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at 
+the other end, when something small hurtled toward 
+him from the middle of the room, squealing, “Harry 
+Potter, sir! Harry Potteri” 
+
+Next second all the wind had been knocked out of 
+him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, 
+hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would 
+break. 
+
+“D-Dobby?” Harry gasped. 
+
+“It is Dobby, sir, it is!” squealed the voice from 
+somewhere around his navel. “Dobby has been 
+hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry 
+Potter has come to see him, sir!” 
+
+Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming 
+up at Harry, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped 
+eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He looked 
+almost exactly as Harry remembered him; the pencil- 
+shaped nose, the batlike ears, the long fingers and 
+feet — all except the clothes, which were very 
+different. 
+
+Page | 414 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+When Dobby had worked for the Malfoys, he had 
+always worn the same filthy old pillowcase. Now, 
+however, he was wearing the strangest assortment of 
+garments Harry had ever seen; he had done an even 
+worse job of dressing himself than the wizards at the 
+World Cup. He was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on 
+which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie 
+patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of 
+what looked like children’s soccer shorts, and odd 
+socks. One of these, Harry saw, was the black one 
+Harry had removed from his own foot and tricked Mr. 
+Malfoy into giving Dobby, thereby setting Dobby free. 
+The other was covered in pink and orange stripes. 
+
+“Dobby, what’re you doing here?” Harry said in 
+amazement. 
+
+“Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!” Dobby 
+squealed excitedly. “Professor Dumbledore gave 
+Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!” 
+
+“Winky?” said Harry. “She’s here too?” 
+
+“Yes, sir, yes!” said Dobby, and he seized Harry’s 
+hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the 
+four long wooden tables that stood there. Each of 
+these tables, Harry noticed as he passed them, was 
+positioned exactly beneath the four House tables 
+above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were 
+clear of food, dinner having finished, but he supposed 
+that an hour ago they had been laden with dishes 
+that were then sent up through the ceiling to their 
+counterparts above. 
+
+At least a hundred little elves were standing around 
+the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as 
+Dobby led Harry past them. They were all wearing the 
+same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts 
+crest, and tied, as Winky’s had been, like a toga. 
+
+Page | 415 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and 
+pointed. 
+
+“Winky, sir!” he said. 
+
+Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike 
+Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She 
+was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a 
+matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large 
+ears. However, while every one of Dobby ’s strange 
+collection of garments was so clean and well cared for 
+that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not 
+taking care of her clothes at all. There were soup 
+stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt. 
+
+“Hello, Winky,” said Harry. 
+
+Winky’s lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which 
+spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed 
+down her front, just as they had done at the 
+Quidditch World Cup. 
+
+“Oh dear,” said Hermione. She and Ron had followed 
+Harry and Dobby to the end of the kitchen. “Winky, 
+don’t cry, please don’t ...” 
+
+But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the 
+other hand, beamed up at Harry. 
+
+“Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?” he squeaked 
+loudly, over Winky’s sobs. 
+
+“Er — yeah, okay,” said Harry. 
+
+Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up 
+behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a 
+teapot, cups for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a milk 
+jug, and a large plate of biscuits. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Good service!” Ron said, in an impressed voice. 
+Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked 
+delighted; they bowed very low and retreated. 
+
+“How long have you been here, Dobby?” Harry asked 
+as Dobby handed around the tea. 
+
+“Only a week, Harry Potter, sir!” said Dobby happily. 
+“Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You 
+see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has 
+been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult 
+indeed — ” 
+
+At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed- 
+tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though 
+she made no effort to stem the flow. 
+
+“Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, 
+sir, trying to find work!” Dobby squeaked. “But Dobby 
+hasn’t found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying 
+now!” 
+
+The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been 
+listening and watching with interest, all looked away 
+at these words, as though Dobby had said something 
+rude and embarrassing. Hermione, however, said, 
+“Good for you, Dobby!” 
+
+“Thank you, miss!” said Dobby, grinning toothily at 
+her. “But most wizards doesn’t want a house-elf who 
+wants paying, miss. That’s not the point of a house- 
+elf,’ they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby ’s 
+face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes 
+and he wants to be paid, Harry Potter. . . . Dobby likes 
+being free!” 
+
+The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging 
+away from Dobby, as though he were carrying 
+something contagious. Winky, however, remained 
+
+Page | 417 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+where she was, though there was a definite increase 
+in the volume of her crying. 
+
+“And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, 
+and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!” said 
+Dobby delightedly. 
+
+At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and 
+lay facedown on the flagged stone floor, beating her 
+tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with 
+misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees 
+beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she 
+said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued 
+with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky’s 
+screeches. 
+
+“And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! Why 
+doesn’t Dobby and Winky find work together?’ Dobby 
+says. Where is there enough work for two house- 
+elves?’ says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes 
+to him, sir! Hogwarts\ So Dobby and Winky came to 
+see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor 
+Dumbledore took us on!” 
+
+Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled 
+in his eyes again. 
+
+“And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, 
+sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, 
+sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off 
+a month!” 
+
+“That’s not very much!” Hermione shouted 
+indignantly from the floor, over Winky’s continued 
+screaming and fist-beating. 
+
+“Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a 
+week, and weekends off,” said Dobby, suddenly giving 
+a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much 
+
+Page | 418 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+leisure and riches were frightening, “but Dobby beat 
+him down, miss. ... Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he 
+isn’t wanting too much, miss, he likes work better.” 
+
+“And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, 
+Winky?” Hermione asked kindly. 
+
+If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she 
+was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when 
+she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her 
+massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and 
+suddenly furious. 
+
+“Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting 
+paid!” she squeaked. “Winky is not sunk so low as 
+that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!” 
+
+“Ashamed?” said Hermione blankly. “But — Winky, 
+come on! It’s Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not 
+you! You didn’t do anything wrong, he was really 
+horrible to you — ” 
+
+But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over 
+the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she 
+couldn’t hear a word, and screeched, “You is not 
+insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. 
+Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. 
+Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!” 
+
+“Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter,” 
+squeaked Dobby confidentially. “Winky forgets she is 
+not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to 
+speak her mind now, but she won’t do it.” 
+
+“Can’t house-elves speak their minds about their 
+masters, then?” Harry asked. 
+
+“Oh no, sir, no,” said Dobby, looking suddenly 
+serious. “ Tis part of the house-elf’s enslavement, sir. 
+
+Page | 419 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We 
+upholds the family’s honor, and we never speaks ill of 
+them — though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he 
+does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said 
+we is free to — to — ” 
+
+Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Harry 
+closer. Harry bent forward. Dobby whispered, “He 
+said we is free to call him a — a barmy old codger if 
+we likes, sir!” 
+
+Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle. 
+
+“But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter,” he said, 
+talking normally again, and shaking his head so that 
+his ears flapped. “Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore 
+very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and 
+our silence for him.” 
+
+“But you can say what you like about the Malfoys 
+now?” Harry asked him, grinning. 
+
+A slightly fearful look came into Dobby’s immense 
+eyes. 
+
+“Dobby — Dobby could,” he said doubtfully. He 
+squared his small shoulders. “Dobby could tell Harry 
+Potter that his old masters were — were — bad Dark 
+wizards'.” 
+
+Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror- 
+struck by his own daring — then he rushed over to 
+the nearest table and began banging his head on it 
+very hard, squealing, “ Bad Dobby ! Bad Dobby\” 
+
+Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled 
+him away from the table. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Thank you, Harry Potter, thank you,” said Dobby 
+breathlessly, rubbing his head. 
+
+“You just need a bit of practice,” Harry said. 
+
+“Practice!” squealed Winky furiously. “You is ought to 
+be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way 
+about your masters!” 
+
+“They isn’t my masters anymore, Winky!” said Dobby 
+defiantly. “Dobby doesn’t care what they think 
+anymore!” 
+
+“Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!” moaned Winky, tears 
+leaking down her face once more. “My poor Mr. 
+Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is 
+needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after 
+the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it 
+before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her 
+...oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was 
+freed? Oh the shame, the shame!” She buried her face 
+in her skirt again and bawled. 
+
+“Winky,” said Hermione firmly, “I’m quite sure Mr. 
+Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. 
+We’ve seen him, you know — ” 
+
+“You is seeing my master?” said Winky breathlessly, 
+raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more 
+and goggling at Hermione. “You is seeing him here at 
+Hogwarts?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Hermione, “he and Mr. Bagman are judges 
+in the Tri-wizard Tournament.” 
+
+“Mr. Bagman comes too?” squeaked Winky, and to 
+Harry’s great surprise (and Ron’s and Hermione’s too, 
+by the looks on their faces), she looked angry again. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My 
+master isn’t liking him, oh no, not at all!” 
+
+“Bagman — bad?” said Harry. 
+
+“Oh yes,” Winky said, nodding her head furiously. 
+
+“My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky 
+is not saying ... Winky — Winky keeps her master’s 
+secrets. ...” 
+
+She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her 
+sobbing into her skirt, “Poor master, poor master, no 
+Winky to help him no more!” 
+
+They couldn’t get another sensible word out of Winky. 
+They left her to her crying and finished their tea, 
+while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf 
+and his plans for his wages. 
+
+“Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!” 
+he said happily, pointing at his bare chest. 
+
+“Tell you what, Dobby,” said Ron, who seemed to have 
+taken a great liking to the elf, “I’ll give you the one my 
+mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from 
+her. You don’t mind maroon, do you?” 
+
+Dobby was delighted. 
+
+“We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you,” Ron told 
+him, “but it’ll go well with your tea cozy.” 
+
+As they prepared to take their leave, many of the 
+surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering 
+snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with 
+a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and 
+curtsying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets 
+with cream cakes and pies. 
+
+
+
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+
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+
+
+“Thanks a lot!” Harry said to the elves, who had all 
+clustered around the door to say good night. “See 
+you, Dobby!” 
+
+“Harry Potter . . . can Dobby come and see you 
+sometimes, sir?” Dobby asked tentatively. 
+
+“ ’Course you can,” said Harry, and Dobby beamed. 
+
+“You know what?” said Ron, once he, Hermione, and 
+Harry had left the kitchens behind and were climbing 
+the steps into the entrance hall again. “All these years 
+I’ve been really impressed with Fred and George, 
+nicking food from the kitchens — well, it’s not exactly 
+difficult, is it? They can’t wait to give it away!” 
+
+“I think this is the best thing that could have 
+happened to those elves, you know,” said Hermione, 
+leading the way back up the marble staircase. “Dobby 
+coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see 
+how happy he is, being free, and slowly it’ll dawn on 
+them that they want that too!” 
+
+“Let’s hope they don’t look too closely at Winky,” said 
+Harry. 
+
+“Oh shell cheer up,” said Hermione, though she 
+sounded a bit doubtful. “Once the shock’s worn off, 
+and she’s got used to Hogwarts, she’ll see how much 
+better off she is without that Crouch man.” 
+
+“She seems to love him,” said Ron thickly (he had just 
+started on a cream cake) . 
+
+“Doesn’t think much of Bagman, though, does she?” 
+said Harry. “Wonder what Crouch says at home about 
+him?” 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“Probably says he’s not a very good Head of 
+Department,” said Hermione, “and let’s face it ... he’s 
+got a point, hasn’t he?” 
+
+“I’d still rather work for him than old Crouch,” said 
+Ron. “At least Bagman’s got a sense of humor.” 
+
+“Don’t let Percy hear you saying that,” Hermione said, 
+smiling slightly. 
+
+“Yeah, well, Percy wouldn’t want to work for anyone 
+with a sense of humor, would he?” said Ron, now 
+starting on a chocolate eclair. “Percy wouldn’t 
+recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him 
+wearing Dobby’s tea cozy.” 
+
+
+
+Page | 424 
+
+
+
+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+
+THE UNEXPECTED TASK 
+
+“Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?” 
+
+Professor McGonagall’s irritated voice cracked like a 
+whip through the Transfiguration class on Thursday, 
+and Harry and Ron both jumped and looked up. 
+
+It was the end of the lesson; they had finished their 
+work; the guinea fowl they had been changing into 
+guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on 
+Professor McGonagall’s desk (Neville’s still had 
+feathers); they had copied down their homework from 
+the blackboard (“Describe, with examples, the ways in 
+which Transforming Spells must be adapted when 
+performing Cross-Species Switches”). The bell was due 
+to ring at any moment, and Harry and Ron, who had 
+been having a sword fight with a couple of Fred and 
+George’s fake wands at the back of the class, looked 
+up, Ron holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber 
+haddock. 
+
+“Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough 
+to act their age,” said Professor McGonagall, with an 
+
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+
+
+
+angry look at the pair of them as the head of Harry’s 
+haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor — Ron’s 
+parrot’s beak had severed it moments before — “I 
+have something to say to you all. 
+
+“The Yule Ball is approaching — a traditional part of 
+the Tri-wizard Tournament and an opportunity for us 
+to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will 
+be open only to fourth years and above — although 
+you may invite a younger student if you wish — ” 
+
+Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil 
+nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working 
+furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both 
+looked around at Harry. Professor McGonagall 
+ignored them, which Harry thought was distinctly 
+unfair, as she had just told off him and Ron. 
+
+“Dress robes will be worn,” Professor McGonagall 
+continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on 
+Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great 
+Hall. Now then — ” 
+
+Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the 
+class. 
+
+“The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to — er 
+— let our hair down,” she said, in a disapproving 
+voice. 
+
+Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand 
+pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound. 
+Harry could see what was funny this time: Professor 
+McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as 
+though she had never let her hair down in any sense. 
+
+“But that does NOT mean,” Professor McGonagall 
+went on, “that we will be relaxing the standards of 
+behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be 
+
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+
+
+
+
+most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student 
+embarrasses the school in any way.” 
+
+The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of 
+activity as everyone packed their bags and swung 
+them onto their shoulders. 
+
+Professor McGonagall called above the noise, “Potter 
+— a word, if you please.” 
+
+Assuming this had something to do with his headless 
+rubber haddock, Harry proceeded gloomily to the 
+teacher’s desk. Professor McGonagall waited until the 
+rest of the class had gone, and then said, “Potter, the 
+champions and their partners — ” 
+
+“What partners?” said Harry. 
+
+Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as 
+though she thought he was trying to be funny. 
+
+“Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter,” she said 
+coldly. “Your dance partners.” 
+
+Harry’s insides seemed to curl up and shrivel. 
+
+“Dance partners?” He felt himself going red. “I don’t 
+dance,” he said quickly. 
+
+“Oh yes, you do,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. 
+“That’s what I’m telling you. Traditionally, the 
+champions and their partners open the ball.” 
+
+Harry had a sudden mental image of himself in a top 
+hat and tails, accompanied by a girl in the sort of 
+frilly dress Aunt Petunia always wore to Uncle 
+Vernon’s work parties. 
+
+“I’m not dancing,” he said. 
+
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+
+“It is traditional,” said Professor McGonagall firmly. 
+“You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what 
+is expected of you as a representative of the school. 
+
+So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter.” 
+
+“But — I don’t — ” 
+
+“You heard me, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall in 
+a very final sort of way. 
+
+A week ago, Harry would have said finding a partner 
+for a dance would be a cinch compared to taking on a 
+Hungarian Horntail. But now that he had done the 
+latter, and was facing the prospect of asking a girl to 
+the ball, he thought he’d rather have another round 
+with the dragon. 
+
+Harry had never known so many people to put their 
+names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; he 
+always did, of course, because the alternative was 
+usually going back to Privet Drive, but he had always 
+been very much in the minority before now. This year, 
+however, everyone in the fourth year and above 
+seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to Harry to 
+be obsessed with the coming ball — or at least all the 
+girls were, and it was amazing how many girls 
+Hogwarts suddenly seemed to hold; he had never 
+quite noticed that before. Girls giggling and 
+whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with 
+laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly 
+comparing notes on what they were going to wear on 
+Christmas night. ... 
+
+“Why do they have to move in packs?” Harry asked 
+Ron as a dozen or so girls walked past them, 
+sniggering and staring at Harry. “How’re you 
+supposed to get one on their own to ask them?” 
+
+
+
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+“Lasso one?” Ron suggested. “Got any idea who you’re 
+going to try?” 
+
+Harry didn’t answer. He knew perfectly well whom 
+he’d like to ask, but working up the nerve was 
+something else. ... Cho was a year older than he was; 
+she was very pretty; she was a very good Quidditch 
+player, and she was also very popular. 
+
+Ron seemed to know what was going on inside 
+Harry’s head. 
+
+“Listen, you’re not going to have any trouble. You’re a 
+champion. You’ve just beaten a Hungarian Horntail. I 
+bet they 11 be queuing up to go with you.” 
+
+In tribute to their recently repaired friendship, Ron 
+had kept the bitterness in his voice to a bare 
+minimum. Moreover, to Harry’s amazement, he 
+turned out to be quite right. 
+
+A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl to whom 
+Harry had never spoken in his life asked him to go to 
+the ball with her the very next day. Harry was so 
+taken aback he said no before he’d even stopped to 
+consider the matter. The girl walked off looking rather 
+hurt, and Harry had to endure Dean’s, Seamus’s, and 
+Ron’s taunts about her all through History of Magic. 
+The following day, two more girls asked him, a second 
+year and (to his horror) a fifth year who looked as 
+though she might knock him out if he refused. 
+
+“She was quite good-looking,” said Ron fairly, after 
+he’d stopped laughing. 
+
+“She was a foot taller than me,” said Harry, still 
+unnerved. “Imagine what I’d look like trying to dance 
+with her.” 
+
+
+
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+Hermione’s words about Krum kept coming back to 
+him. “They only like him because he’s famous!” Harry 
+doubted very much if any of the girls who had asked 
+to be his partner so far would have wanted to go to 
+the ball with him if he hadn’t been a school 
+champion. Then he wondered if this would bother 
+him if Cho asked him. 
+
+On the whole, Harry had to admit that even with the 
+embarrassing prospect of opening the ball before him, 
+life had definitely improved since he had got through 
+the first task. He wasn’t attracting nearly as much 
+unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which he 
+suspected had a lot to do with Cedric — he had an 
+idea Cedric might have told the Hufflepuffs to leave 
+Harry alone, in gratitude for Harry’s tip-off about the 
+dragons. There seemed to be fewer Support Cedric 
+Diggoryl badges around too. Draco Malfoy, of course, 
+was still quoting Rita Skeeter’s article to him at every 
+possible opportunity, but he was getting fewer and 
+fewer laughs out of it — and just to heighten Harry’s 
+feeling of well-being, no story about Hagrid had 
+appeared in the Daily Prophet 
+
+“She didn’ seem very int’rested in magical creatures, 
+ter tell yeh the truth,” Hagrid said, when Harry, Ron, 
+and Hermione asked him how his interview with Rita 
+Skeeter had gone during the last Care of Magical 
+Creatures lesson of the term. To their very great relief, 
+Hagrid had given up on direct contact with the 
+skrewts now, and they were merely sheltering behind 
+his cabin today, sitting at a trestle table and 
+preparing a fresh selection of food with which to 
+tempt the skrewts. 
+
+“She jus’ wanted me ter talk about you, Harry,” 
+
+Hagrid continued in a low voice. “Well, I told her we’d 
+been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the 
+Dursleys. ‘Never had to tell him off in four years?’ she 
+
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+
+said. ‘Never played you up in lessons, has he?’ I told 
+her no, an’ she didn’ seem happy at all. Yeh’d think 
+she wanted me to say yeh were horrible, Harry.” 
+
+“ ’Course she did,” said Harry, throwing lumps of 
+dragon liver into a large metal bowl and picking up 
+his knife to cut some more. “She can’t keep writing 
+about what a tragic little hero I am, it’ll get boring.” 
+
+“She wants a new angle, Hagrid,” said Ron wisely as 
+he shelled salamander eggs. “You were supposed to 
+say Harry’s a mad delinquent!” 
+
+“But he’s not!” said Hagrid, looking genuinely 
+shocked. 
+
+“She should’ve interviewed Snape,” said Harry grimly. 
+“He’d give her the goods on me any day. ‘Potter has 
+been crossing lines ever since he first arrived at this 
+school. . . . ’ ” 
+
+“Said that, did he?” said Hagrid, while Ron and 
+Hermione laughed. “Well, yeh might’ve bent a few 
+rules, Harry, bu’ yeh’re all righ’ really, aren’ you?” 
+
+“Cheers, Hagrid,” said Harry, grinning. 
+
+“You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, 
+Hagrid?” said Ron. 
+
+“Though’ I might look in on it, yeah,” said Hagrid 
+gruffly. “Should be a good do, I reckon. You’ll be 
+openin’ the dancin’, won’ yeh, Harry? Who ’re you 
+takin’?” 
+
+“No one, yet,” said Harry, feeling himself going red 
+again. Hagrid didn’t pursue the subject. 
+
+
+
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+
+The last week of term became increasingly boisterous 
+as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were 
+flying everywhere, though Harry didn’t believe half of 
+them — for instance, that Dumbledore had bought 
+eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam 
+Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had 
+booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly who or what the 
+Weird Sisters were Harry didn’t know, never having 
+had access to a wizard’s wireless, but he deduced 
+from the wild excitement of those who had grown up 
+listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) 
+that they were a very famous musical group. 
+
+Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, 
+gave up trying to teach them much when their minds 
+were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play 
+games in his lesson on Wednesday, and spent most of 
+it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning 
+Charm Harry had used during the first task of the 
+Triwizard Tournament. Other teachers were not so 
+generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, 
+for example, from plowing on through his notes on 
+goblin rebellions — as Binns hadn’t let his own death 
+stand in the way of continuing to teach, they 
+supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn’t going to 
+put him off. It was amazing how he could make even 
+bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as 
+Percy’s cauldron-bottom report. Professors 
+McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the 
+very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of 
+course, would no sooner let them play games in class 
+than adopt Harry. Staring nastily around at them all, 
+he informed them that he would be testing them on 
+poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term. 
+
+“Evil, he is,” Ron said bitterly that night in the 
+Gryffindor common room. “Springing a test on us on 
+the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole 
+load of studying.” 
+
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+
+
+“Mmm ... you’re not exactly straining yourself, 
+though, are you?” said Hermione, looking at him over 
+the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a 
+card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack — a much 
+more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, 
+because of the chance that the whole thing would 
+blow up at any second. 
+
+“It’s Christmas, Hermione,” said Harry lazily; he was 
+rereading Flying with the Cannons for the tenth time 
+in an armchair near the fire. 
+
+Hermione looked severely over at him too. “I’d have 
+thought you’d be doing something constructive, 
+
+Harry, even if you don’t want to learn your antidotes!” 
+
+“Like what?” Harry said as he watched Joey Jenkins 
+of the Cannons belt a Bludger toward a Ballycastle 
+Bats Chaser. 
+
+“That egg!” Hermione hissed. 
+
+“Come on, Hermione, I’ve got till February the twenty- 
+fourth,” Harry said. 
+
+He had put the golden egg upstairs in his trunk and 
+hadn’t opened it since the celebration party after the 
+first task. There were still two and a half months to go 
+until he needed to know what all the screechy wailing 
+meant, after all. 
+
+“But it might take weeks to work it out!” said 
+Hermione. “You’re going to look a real idiot if everyone 
+else knows what the next task is and you don’t!” 
+
+“Leave him alone, Hermione, he’s earned a bit of a 
+break,” said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on 
+top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing 
+his eyebrows. 
+
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+
+
+“Nice look, Ron ... go well with your dress robes, that 
+will.” 
+
+
+
+It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table 
+with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Ron felt how much 
+damage had been done. 
+
+“Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked. 
+
+“No, he’s off delivering a letter,” said Ron. “Why?” 
+
+“Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said 
+Fred sarcastically. 
+
+“Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great 
+prat,” said George. 
+
+“Who d’you two keep writing to, eh?” said Ron. 
+
+“Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you too,” said 
+Fred, waving his wand threateningly. “So ... you lot 
+got dates for the ball yet?” 
+
+“Nope,” said Ron. 
+
+“Well, you’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good 
+ones will be gone,” said Fred. 
+
+“Who’re you going with, then?” said Ron. 
+
+“Angelina,” said Fred promptly, without a trace of 
+embarrassment. 
+
+“What?” said Ron, taken aback. “You’ve already asked 
+her?” 
+
+“Good point,” said Fred. He turned his head and 
+called across the common room, “Oi! Angelina!” 
+
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+
+Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet 
+near the fire, looked over at him. 
+
+
+
+“What?” she called back. 
+
+“Want to come to the ball with me?” 
+
+Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look. 
+
+“All right, then,” she said, and she turned back to 
+Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on 
+her face. 
+
+“There you go,” said Fred to Harry and Ron, “piece of 
+cake.” 
+
+He got to his feet, yawning, and said, “We’d better use 
+a school owl then, George, come on. ...” 
+
+They left. Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and 
+looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle 
+at Harry. 
+
+“We should get a move on, you know ... ask someone. 
+He’s right. We don’t want to end up with a pair of 
+trolls.” 
+
+Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. 
+
+“A pair of . . . what, excuse me?” 
+
+“Well — you know,” said Ron, shrugging. “I’d rather 
+go alone than with — with Eloise Midgen, say.” 
+
+“Her acne’s loads better lately — and she’s really 
+nice!” 
+
+“Her nose is off-center,” said Ron. 
+
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+
+
+“Oh I see,” Hermione said, bristling. “So basically, 
+you’re going to take the best-looking girl who’ll have 
+you, even if she’s completely horrible?” 
+
+“Er — yeah, that sounds about right,” said Ron. 
+
+“I’m going to bed,” Hermione snapped, and she swept 
+off toward the girls’ staircase without another word. 
+
+The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire 
+to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and 
+Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at 
+its best this Christmas. When the decorations went 
+up, Harry noticed that they were the most stunning 
+he had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles 
+had been attached to the banisters of the marble 
+staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the 
+Great Hall were bedecked with everything from 
+luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, 
+and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing 
+carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite 
+something to hear “O Come, All Ye Faithful” sung by 
+an empty helmet that only knew half the words. 
+Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract 
+Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to 
+hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of 
+his own invention, all of which were very rude. 
+
+And still, Harry hadn’t asked Cho to the ball. He and 
+Ron were getting very nervous now, though as Harry 
+pointed out, Ron would look much less stupid than 
+he would without a partner; Harry was supposed to 
+be starting the dancing with the other champions. 
+
+“I suppose there’s always Moaning Myrtle,” he said 
+gloomily, referring to the ghost who haunted the girls’ 
+toilets on the second floor. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Harry — we’ve just got to grit our teeth and do it,” 
+said Ron on Friday morning, in a tone that suggested 
+they were planning the storming of an impregnable 
+fortress. “When we get back to the common room 
+tonight, we’ll both have partners — agreed?” 
+
+“Er ... okay,” said Harry. 
+
+But every time he glimpsed Cho that day — during 
+break, and then lunchtime, and once on the way to 
+History of Magic — she was surrounded by friends. 
+Didn’t she ever go anywhere alone? Could he perhaps 
+ambush her as she was going into a bathroom? But 
+no — she even seemed to go there with an escort of 
+four or five girls. Yet if he didn’t do it soon, she was 
+bound to have been asked by somebody else. 
+
+He found it hard to concentrate on Snape’s Potions 
+test, and consequently forgot to add the key 
+ingredient — a bezoar — meaning that he received 
+bottom marks. He didn’t care, though; he was too 
+busy screwing up his courage for what he was about 
+to do. When the bell rang, he grabbed his bag, and 
+hurried to the dungeon door. 
+
+“I’ll meet you at dinner,” he said to Ron and 
+Hermione, and he dashed off upstairs. 
+
+He’d just have to ask Cho for a private word, that was 
+all. ... He hurried off through the packed corridors 
+looking for her, and (rather sooner than he had 
+expected) he found her, emerging from a Defense 
+Against the Dark Arts lesson. 
+
+“Er — Cho? Could I have a word with you?” 
+
+Giggling should be made illegal, Harry thought 
+furiously, as all the girls around Cho started doing it. 
+
+
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+She didn’t, though. She said, “Okay,” and followed 
+him out of earshot of her classmates. 
+
+Harry turned to look at her and his stomach gave a 
+weird lurch as though he had missed a step going 
+downstairs. 
+
+“Er,” he said. 
+
+He couldn’t ask her. He couldn’t. But he had to. Cho 
+stood there looking puzzled, watching him. 
+
+The words came out before Harry had quite got his 
+tongue around them. 
+
+“Wangoballwime?” 
+
+“Sorry?” said Cho. 
+
+“D’you — d’you want to go to the ball with me?” said 
+Harry. Why did he have to go red now? Why ? 
+
+“Oh!” said Cho, and she went red too. “Oh Harry, I’m 
+really sorry,” and she truly looked it. “I’ve already said 
+I’ll go with someone else.” 
+
+“Oh,” said Harry. 
+
+It was odd; a moment before his insides had been 
+writhing like snakes, but suddenly he didn’t seem to 
+have any insides at all. 
+
+“Oh okay,” he said, “no problem.” 
+
+“I’m really sorry,” she said again. 
+
+“That’s okay,” said Harry. 
+
+
+
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+
+They stood there looking at each other, and then Cho 
+said, “Well — ” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry. 
+
+“Well, ’bye,” said Cho, still very red. She walked away. 
+Harry called after her, before he could stop himself. 
+“Who ’re you going with?” 
+
+“Oh — Cedric,” she said. “Cedric Diggory.” 
+
+“Oh right,” said Harry. 
+
+His insides had come back again. It felt as though 
+they had been filled with lead in their absence. 
+
+Completely forgetting about dinner, he walked slowly 
+back up to Gryffindor Tower, Cho’s voice echoing in 
+his ears with every step he took. “ Cedric — Cedric 
+Diggory.” He had been starting to quite like Cedric — 
+prepared to overlook the fact that he had once beaten 
+him at Quidditch, and was handsome, and popular, 
+and nearly everyone’s favorite champion. Now he 
+suddenly realized that Cedric was in fact a useless 
+pretty boy who didn’t have enough brains to fill an 
+eggcup. 
+
+“Fairy lights,” he said dully to the Fat Lady — the 
+password had been changed the previous day. 
+
+“Yes, indeed, dear!” she trilled, straightening her new 
+tinsel hair band as she swung forward to admit him. 
+
+Entering the common room, Harry looked around, 
+and to his surprise he saw Ron sitting ashen-faced in 
+a distant corner. Ginny was sitting with him, talking 
+to him in what seemed to be a low, soothing voice. 
+
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+
+“What’s up, Ron?” said Harry, joining them. 
+
+
+
+Ron looked up at Harry, a sort of blind horror in his 
+face. 
+
+“Why did I do it?” he said wildly. “I don’t know what 
+made me do it!” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. 
+
+“He — er — just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the 
+ball with him,” said Ginny. She looked as though she 
+was fighting back a smile, but she kept patting Ron’s 
+arm sympathetically. 
+
+“You what?” said Harry. 
+
+“I don’t know what made me do it!” Ron gasped again. 
+“What was I playing at? There were people — all 
+around — I’ve gone mad — everyone watching! I was 
+just walking past her in the entrance hall — she was 
+standing there talking to Diggory — and it sort of 
+came over me — and I asked her!” 
+
+Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept 
+talking, though the words were barely 
+distinguishable. 
+
+“She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. 
+Didn’t even answer. And then — I dunno — I just sort 
+of came to my senses and ran for it.” 
+
+“She’s part veela,” said Harry. “You were right — her 
+grandmother was one. It wasn’t your fault, I bet you 
+just walked past when she was turning on the old 
+charm for Diggory and got a blast of it — but she was 
+wasting her time. He’s going with Cho Chang.” 
+
+Ron looked up. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“I asked her to go with me just now,” Harry said dully, 
+“and she told me.” 
+
+Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling. 
+
+“This is mad,” said Ron. “We’re the only ones left who 
+haven’t got anyone — well, except Neville. Hey — 
+guess who he asked? Hermionel” 
+
+“ What?” said Harry, completely distracted by this 
+startling news. 
+
+“Yeah, I know!” said Ron, some of the color coming 
+back into his face as he started to laugh. “He told me 
+after Potions! Said she’s always been really nice, 
+helping him out with work and stuff — but she told 
+him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! 
+She just didn’t want to go with Neville ... I mean, who 
+would?” 
+
+“Don’t!” said Ginny, annoyed. “Don’t laugh — ” 
+
+Just then Hermione climbed in through the portrait 
+hole. 
+
+“Why weren’t you two at dinner?” she said, coming 
+over to join them. 
+
+“Because — oh shut up laughing, you two — because 
+they’ve both just been turned down by girls they 
+asked to the ball!” said Ginny. 
+
+That shut Harry and Ron up. 
+
+“Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” said Ron sourly. 
+
+“All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” said 
+Hermione loftily. “Eloise Midgen starting to look quite 
+
+
+
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+
+pretty now, is she? Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone 
+somewhere who’ll have you.” 
+
+But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly 
+seeing her in a whole new light. 
+
+“Hermione, Neville’s right — you are a girl. ...” 
+
+“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly. 
+
+“Well — you can come with one of us!” 
+
+“No, I can’t,” snapped Hermione. 
+
+“Oh come on,” he said impatiently, “we need partners, 
+we’re going to look really stupid if we haven’t got any, 
+everyone else has ...” 
+
+“I can’t come with you,” said Hermione, now blushing, 
+“because I’m already going with someone.” 
+
+“No, you’re not!” said Ron. “You just said that to get 
+rid of Neville!” 
+
+“Oh did I?” said Hermione, and her eyes flashed 
+dangerously. “Just because it’s taken you three years 
+to notice, Ron, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted 
+I’m a girl!” 
+
+Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again. 
+
+“Okay, okay, we know you’re a girl,” he said. “That 
+do? Will you come now?” 
+
+“I’ve already told you!” Hermione said very angrily. 
+
+“I’m going with someone else!” 
+
+And she stormed off toward the girls’ dormitories 
+again. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“She’s lying,” said Ron flatly, watching her go. 
+
+“She’s not,” said Ginny quietly. 
+
+“Who is it then?” said Ron sharply. 
+
+“I’m not telling you, it’s her business,” said Ginny. 
+
+“Right,” said Ron, who looked extremely put out, “this 
+is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and 
+I’ll just—” 
+
+“I can’t,” said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. “I’m 
+going with — with Neville. He asked me when 
+Hermione said no, and I thought ... well ... I’m not 
+going to be able to go otherwise, I’m not in fourth 
+year.” She looked extremely miserable. “I think I’ll go 
+and have dinner,” she said, and she got up and 
+walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed. 
+
+Ron goggled at Harry. 
+
+“What’s got into them?” he demanded. 
+
+But Harry had just seen Parvati and Lavender come 
+in through the portrait hole. The time had come for 
+drastic action. 
+
+“Wait here,” he said to Ron, and he stood up, walked 
+straight up to Parvati, and said, “Parvati? Will you go 
+to the ball with me?” 
+
+Parvati went into a fit of giggles. Harry waited for 
+them to subside, his fingers crossed in the pocket of 
+his robes. 
+
+“Yes, all right then,” she said finally, blushing 
+furiously. 
+
+
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+
+“Thanks,” said Harry, in relief. “Lavender — will you 
+go with Ron?” 
+
+“She’s going with Seamus,” said Parvati, and the pair 
+of them giggled harder than ever. 
+
+Harry sighed. 
+
+“Can’t you think of anyone who’d go with Ron?” he 
+said, lowering his voice so that Ron wouldn’t hear. 
+
+“What about Hermione Granger?” said Parvati. 
+
+“She’s going with someone else.” 
+
+Parvati looked astonished. 
+
+“Ooooh — who?” she said keenly. 
+
+Harry shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “So what about 
+Ron?” 
+
+“Well ...” said Parvati slowly, “I suppose my sister 
+might ... Padma, you know ... in Ravenclaw. I’ll ask 
+her if you like.” 
+
+“Yeah, that would be great,” said Harry. “Let me 
+know, will you?” 
+
+And he went back over to Ron, feeling that this ball 
+was a lot more trouble than it was worth, and hoping 
+very much that Padma Patil’s nose was dead center. 
+
+
+
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+
+THE YULE BALL 
+
+Despite the very heavy load of homework that the 
+fourth years had been given for the holidays, Harry 
+was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent 
+the week leading up to Christmas enjoying himself as 
+fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor 
+Tower was hardly less crowded now than during 
+term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as 
+its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than 
+usual. Fred and George had had a great success with 
+their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days 
+of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all 
+over the place. Before long, however, all the 
+Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else 
+offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a 
+Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George 
+confided to Harry that he and Fred were now working 
+on developing something else. Harry made a mental 
+note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred 
+and George in future. He still hadn’t forgotten Dudley 
+and the Ton-Tongue Toffee. 
+
+
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+Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its 
+grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage 
+looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the 
+iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid’s cabin, while 
+the Durmstrang ship’s portholes were glazed with ice, 
+the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in 
+the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of 
+rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only 
+Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to 
+complain about. 
+
+“It is too ’eavy, all zis ’Ogwarts food,” they heard her 
+saying grumpily as they left the Great Hall behind her 
+one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to 
+be spotted by Fleur). “I will not fit into my dress 
+robes!” 
+
+“Oooh there’s a tragedy,” Hermione snapped as Fleur 
+went out into the entrance hall. “She really thinks a 
+lot of herself, that one, doesn’t she?” 
+
+“Hermione — who are you going to the ball with?” 
+said Ron. 
+
+He kept springing this question on her, hoping to 
+startle her into a response by asking it when she least 
+expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and 
+said, “I’m not telling you, you’ll just make fun of me.” 
+
+“You’re joking, Weasley!” said Malfoy, behind them. 
+“You’re not telling me someone’s asked that to the 
+ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?” 
+
+Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione 
+said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy’s 
+shoulder, “Hello, Professor Moody!” 
+
+
+
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+Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking 
+wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the 
+staff table, finishing his stew. 
+
+“Twitchy little ferret, aren’t you, Malfoy?” said 
+Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry, and Ron went 
+up the marble staircase laughing heartily. 
+
+“Hermione,” said Ron, looking sideways at her, 
+suddenly frowning, “your teeth ...” 
+
+“What about them?” she said. 
+
+“Well, they’re different ... I’ve just noticed. ...” 
+
+“Of course they are — did you expect me to keep 
+those fangs Malfoy gave me?” 
+
+“No, I mean, they’re different to how they were before 
+he put that hex on you. ... They’re all ... straight and 
+— and normal-sized.” 
+
+Hermione suddenly smiled very mischievously, and 
+Harry noticed it too: It was a very different smile from 
+the one he remembered. 
+
+“Well ... when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get 
+them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to 
+stop her when they were back to how they normally 
+were,” she said. “And I just ... let her carry on a bit.” 
+She smiled even more widely. “Mum and Dad won’t be 
+too pleased. I’ve been trying to persuade them to let 
+me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry 
+on with my braces. You know, they’re dentists, they 
+just don’t think teeth and magic should — look! 
+Pigwidgeon’s back!” 
+
+Ron’s tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the 
+icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to 
+
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+his leg. People passing him were pointing and 
+laughing, and a group of third-year girls paused and 
+said, “Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn’t he cute?” 
+
+“Stupid little feathery git!” Ron hissed, hurrying up 
+the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. “You bring 
+letters to the addressee! You don’t hang around 
+showing off!” 
+
+Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over 
+Ron’s fist. The third-year girls all looked very 
+shocked. 
+
+“Clear off!” Ron snapped at them, waving the fist 
+holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than 
+ever as he soared through the air. “Here — take it, 
+Harry,” Ron added in an undertone as the third-year 
+girls scuttled away looking scandalized. He pulled 
+Sirius’s reply off Pigwidgeon’s leg, Harry pocketed it, 
+and they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to read it. 
+
+Everyone in the common room was much too busy in 
+letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone 
+else was up to. Ron, Harry, and Hermione sat apart 
+from everyone else by a dark window that was 
+gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out: 
+
+Dear Harry, 
+
+Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever 
+put your name in that goblet shouldn’t be feeling too 
+happy right now! I was going to suggest a 
+Conjunctivitis Curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its 
+weakest point — “That’s what Krum did!” Hermione 
+whispered — but your way was better, I’m impressed. 
+
+Don’t get complacent, though, Harry. You’ve only done 
+one task; whoever put you in for the tournament’s got 
+plenty more opportunity if they’re trying to hurt you. 
+
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+
+
+Keep your eyes open — particularly when the person 
+we discussed is around — and concentrate on keeping 
+yourself out of trouble. 
+
+Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything 
+unusual. 
+
+Sirius 
+
+“He sounds exactly like Moody,” said Harry quietly, 
+tucking the letter away again inside his robes. “ 
+‘Constant vigilance!’ You’d think I walk around with 
+my eyes shut, banging off the walls. ...” 
+
+“But he’s right, Harry,” said Hermione, “you have still 
+got two tasks to do. You really ought to have a look at 
+that egg, you know, and start working out what it 
+means. ...” 
+
+“Hermione, he’s got ages!” snapped Ron. “Want a 
+game of chess, Harry?” 
+
+“Yeah, okay,” said Harry. Then, spotting the look on 
+Hermione ’s face, he said, “Come on, how’m I 
+supposed to concentrate with all this noise going on? 
+
+I won’t even be able to hear the egg over this lot.” 
+
+“Oh I suppose not,” she sighed, and she sat down to 
+watch their chess match, which culminated in an 
+exciting checkmate of Ron’s, involving a couple of 
+recklessly brave pawns and a very violent bishop. 
+
+Harry awoke very suddenly on Christmas Day. 
+Wondering what had caused his abrupt return to 
+consciousness, he opened his eyes, and saw 
+something with very large, round, green eyes staring 
+back at him in the darkness, so close they were 
+almost nose to nose. 
+
+
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+“Dobbyl” Harry yelled, scrambling away from the elf 
+so fast he almost fell out of bed. “Don’t do that!” 
+
+“Dobby is sorry, sir!” squeaked Dobby anxiously, 
+jumping backward with his long fingers over his 
+mouth. “Dobby is only wanting to wish Harry Potter 
+‘Merry Christmas’ and bring him a present, sir! Harry 
+Potter did say Dobby could come and see him 
+sometimes, sir!” 
+
+“It’s okay,” said Harry, still breathing rather faster 
+than usual, while his heart rate returned to normal. 
+“Just — just prod me or something in future, all right, 
+don’t bend over me like that. ...” 
+
+Harry pulled back the curtains around his four- 
+poster, took his glasses from his bedside table, and 
+put them on. His yell had awoken Ron, Seamus, 
+
+Dean, and Neville. All of them were peering through 
+the gaps in their own hangings, heavy-eyed and 
+tousle-haired. 
+
+“Someone attacking you, Harry?” Seamus asked 
+sleepily. 
+
+“No, it’s just Dobby,” Harry muttered. “Go back to 
+sleep.” 
+
+“Nah ... presents!” said Seamus, spotting the large 
+pile at the foot of his bed. Ron, Dean, and Neville 
+decided that now they were awake they might as well 
+get down to some present-opening too. Harry turned 
+back to Dobby, who was now standing nervously next 
+to Harry’s bed, still looking worried that he had upset 
+Harry. There was a Christmas bauble tied to the loop 
+on top of his tea cozy. 
+
+“Can Dobby give Harry Potter his present?” he 
+squeaked tentatively. 
+
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+
+“ ’Course you can,” said Harry. “Er ... I’ve got 
+something for you too.” 
+
+It was a lie; he hadn’t bought anything for Dobby at 
+all, but he quickly opened his trunk and pulled out a 
+particularly knobbly rolled-up pair of socks. They 
+were his oldest and foulest, mustard yellow, and had 
+once belonged to Uncle Vernon. The reason they were 
+extra-knobbly was that Harry had been using them to 
+cushion his Sneakoscope for over a year now. He 
+pulled out the Sneakoscope and handed the socks to 
+Dobby, saying, “Sorry, I forgot to wrap them. ...” 
+
+But Dobby was utterly delighted. 
+
+“Socks are Dobby’s favorite, favorite clothes, sir!” he 
+said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on Uncle 
+Vernon’s. “I has seven now, sir. ... But sir ...” he said, 
+his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to 
+their highest extent, so that they reached to the 
+bottom of his shorts, “they has made a mistake in the 
+shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!” 
+
+“Ah, no, Harry, how come you didn’t spot that?” said 
+Ron, grinning over from his own bed, which was now 
+strewn with wrapping paper. “Tell you what, Dobby — 
+here you go — take these two, and you can mix them 
+up properly. And here’s your sweater.” 
+
+He threw Dobby a pair of violet socks he had just 
+unwrapped, and the hand-knitted sweater Mrs. 
+Weasley had sent. Dobby looked quite overwhelmed. 
+
+“Sir is very kind!” he squeaked, his eyes brimming 
+with tears again, bowing deeply to Ron. “Dobby knew 
+sir must be a great wizard, for he is Harry Potter’s 
+greatest friend, but Dobby did not know that he was 
+also as generous of spirit, as noble, as selfless — ” 
+
+
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+“They’re only socks,” said Ron, who had gone slightly 
+pink around the ears, though he looked rather 
+pleased all the same. “Wow, Harry — ” He had just 
+opened Harry’s present, a Chudley Cannon hat. 
+
+“Cool!” He jammed it onto his head, where it clashed 
+horribly with his hair. 
+
+Dobby now handed Harry a small package, which 
+turned out to be — socks. 
+
+“Dobby is making them himself, sir!” the elf said 
+happily. “He is buying the wool out of his wages, sir!” 
+
+The left sock was bright red and had a pattern of 
+broomsticks upon it; the right sock was green with a 
+pattern of Snitches. 
+
+“They’re ... they’re really ... well, thanks, Dobby,” said 
+Harry, and he pulled them on, causing Dobby’s eyes 
+to leak with happiness again. 
+
+“Dobby must go now, sir, we is already making 
+Christmas dinner in the kitchens!” said Dobby, and 
+he hurried out of the dormitory, waving good-bye to 
+Ron and the others as he passed. 
+
+Harry’s other presents were much more satisfactory 
+than Dobby’s odd socks — with the obvious exception 
+of the Dursleys’, which consisted of a single tissue, an 
+all-time low — Harry supposed they too were 
+remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Hermione had 
+given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain 
+and Ireland ; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; 
+
+Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock 
+any lock and undo any knot; and Hagrid, a vast box 
+of sweets including all Harry’s favorites: Bertie Bott’s 
+Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best 
+Blowing Gum, and Fizzing Whizbees. There was also, 
+of course, Mrs. Weasley’s usual package, including a 
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+new sweater (green, with a picture of a dragon on it — 
+Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the 
+Horntail), and a large quantity of homemade mince 
+pies. 
+
+Harry and Ron met up with Hermione in the common 
+room, and they went down to breakfast together. They 
+spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where 
+everyone was enjoying their presents, then returned 
+to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which 
+included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas 
+puddings, and large piles of Cribbage’s Wizarding 
+Crackers. 
+
+They went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the 
+snow was untouched except for the deep channels 
+made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students 
+on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to 
+watch Harry and the Weasleys’ snowball fight rather 
+than join in, and at five o’clock said she was going 
+back upstairs to get ready for the ball. 
+
+“What, you need three hours?” said Ron, looking at 
+her incredulously and paying for his lapse in 
+concentration when a large snowball, thrown by 
+George, hit him hard on the side of the head. “Who ’re 
+you going with?” he yelled after Hermione, but she 
+just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into 
+the castle. 
+
+There was no Christmas tea today, as the ball 
+included a feast, so at seven o’clock, when it had 
+become hard to aim properly, the others abandoned 
+their snowball fight and trooped back to the common 
+room. The Fat Lady was sitting in her frame with her 
+friend Violet from downstairs, both of them extremely 
+tipsy, empty boxes of chocolate liqueurs littering the 
+bottom of her picture. 
+
+
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+“Lairy fights, that’s the one!” she giggled when they 
+gave the password, and she swung forward to let 
+them inside. 
+
+Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville changed into 
+their dress robes up in their dormitory, all of them 
+looking very self-conscious, but none as much as 
+Ron, who surveyed himself in the long mirror in the 
+corner with an appalled look on his face. There was 
+just no getting around the fact that his robes looked 
+more like a dress than anything else. In a desperate 
+attempt to make them look more manly, he used a 
+Severing Charm on the ruff and cuffs. It worked fairly 
+well; at least he was now lace-free, although he hadn’t 
+done a very neat job, and the edges still looked 
+depressingly frayed as the boys set off downstairs. 
+
+“I still can’t work out how you two got the best- 
+looking girls in the year,” muttered Dean. 
+
+“Animal magnetism,” said Ron gloomily, pulling stray 
+threads out of his cuffs. 
+
+The common room looked strange, full of people 
+wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of 
+black. Parvati was waiting for Harry at the foot of the 
+stairs. She looked very pretty indeed, in robes of 
+shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with 
+gold, and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. 
+Harry was relieved to see that she wasn’t giggling. 
+
+“You — er — look nice,” he said awkwardly. 
+
+“Thanks,” she said. “Padma’s going to meet you in the 
+entrance hall,” she added to Ron. 
+
+“Right,” said Ron, looking around. “Where’s 
+Hermione?” 
+
+
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+
+Parvati shrugged. “Shall we go down then, Harry?” 
+
+
+
+“Okay,” said Harry, wishing he could just stay in the 
+common room. Fred winked at Harry as he passed 
+him on the way out of the portrait hole. 
+
+The entrance hall was packed with students too, all 
+milling around waiting for eight o’clock, when the 
+doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those 
+people who were meeting partners from different 
+Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find 
+one another. Parvati found her sister, Padma, and led 
+her over to Harry and Ron. 
+
+“Hi,” said Padma, who was looking just as pretty as 
+Parvati in robes of bright turquoise. She didn’t look 
+too enthusiastic about having Ron as a partner, 
+though; her dark eyes lingered on the frayed neck and 
+sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and 
+down. 
+
+“Hi,” said Ron, not looking at her, but staring around 
+at the crowd. “Oh no ...” 
+
+He bent his knees slightly to hide behind Harry, 
+because Fleur Delacour was passing, looking 
+stunning in robes of silver-gray satin, and 
+accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, 
+Roger Davies. When they had disappeared, Ron stood 
+straight again and stared over the heads of the crowd. 
+
+“Where is Hermione?” he said again. 
+
+A group of Slytherins came up the steps from their 
+dungeon common room. Malfoy was in front; he was 
+wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, 
+which in Harry’s opinion made him look like a vicar. 
+Pansy Parkinson in very frilly robes of pale pink was 
+clutching Malfoy’s arm. Crabbe and Goyle were both 
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+wearing green; they resembled moss-colored boulders, 
+and neither of them, Harry was pleased to see, had 
+managed to find a partner. 
+
+The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to 
+look as the Durmstrang students entered with 
+Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the 
+party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes 
+Harry didn’t know. Over their heads he saw that an 
+area of lawn right in front of the castle had been 
+transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights — 
+meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting 
+in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and 
+fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be 
+Father Christmas and his reindeer. 
+
+Then Professor McGonagall’s voice called, 
+
+“Champions over here, please!” 
+
+Parvati readjusted her bangles, beaming; she and 
+Harry said “See you in a minute” to Ron and Padma 
+and walked forward, the chattering crowd parting to 
+let them through. Professor McGonagall, who was 
+wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a 
+rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her 
+hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while 
+everyone else went inside; they were to enter the 
+Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students 
+had sat down. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies 
+stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked 
+so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a 
+partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. 
+Cedric and Cho were close to Harry too; he looked 
+away from them so he wouldn’t have to talk to them. 
+His eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum. His jaw 
+dropped. 
+
+It was Hermione. 
+
+
+
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+But she didn’t look like Hermione at all. She had done 
+something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but 
+sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot 
+at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made 
+of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was 
+holding herself differently, somehow — or maybe it 
+was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she 
+usually had slung over her back. She was also 
+smiling — rather nervously, it was true — but the 
+reduction in the size of her front teeth was more 
+noticeable than ever; Harry couldn’t understand how 
+he hadn’t spotted it before. 
+
+“Hi, Harry!” she said. “Hi, Parvati!” 
+
+Parvati was gazing at Hermione in unflattering 
+disbelief. She wasn’t the only one either; when the 
+doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum’s fan club from 
+the library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of 
+deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gaped at her as 
+she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn’t seem 
+to be able to find an insult to throw at her. Ron, 
+however, walked right past Hermione without looking 
+at her. 
+
+Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor 
+McGonagall told the champions and their partners to 
+get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and 
+everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered 
+and started walking up toward a large round table at 
+the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting. 
+
+The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling 
+silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe 
+and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House 
+tables had vanished; instead, there were about a 
+hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about 
+a dozen people. 
+
+
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+Harry concentrated on not tripping over his feet. 
+Parvati seemed to be enjoying herself; she was 
+beaming around at everybody, steering Harry so 
+forcefully that he felt as though he were a show dog 
+she was putting through its paces. He caught sight of 
+Ron and Padma as he neared the top table. Ron was 
+watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Padma 
+was looking sulky. 
+
+Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions 
+approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an 
+expression remarkably like Ron’s as he watched 
+Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, 
+tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow 
+stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the 
+students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed 
+her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of 
+lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr. 
+Crouch, Harry suddenly realized, was not there. The 
+fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley. 
+
+When the champions and their partners reached the 
+table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, 
+staring pointedly at Harry. Harry took the hint and 
+sat down next to Percy, who was wearing brand-new, 
+navy-blue dress robes and an expression of such 
+smugness that Harry thought it ought to be fined. 
+
+“I’ve been promoted,” Percy said before Harry could 
+even ask, and from his tone, he might have been 
+announcing his election as supreme ruler of the 
+universe. “I’m now Mr. Crouch’s personal assistant, 
+and I’m here representing him.” 
+
+“Why didn’t he come?” Harry asked. He wasn’t looking 
+forward to being lectured on cauldron bottoms all 
+through dinner. 
+
+
+
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+
+‘Tm afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn’t well, not well at all. 
+Hasn’t been right since the World Cup. Hardly 
+surprising — overwork. He’s not as young as he was 
+— though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind 
+remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup 
+was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. 
+Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the 
+misbehavior of that house-elf of his, Blinky, or 
+whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her 
+immediately afterward, but — well, as I say, he’s 
+getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he’s 
+found a definite drop in his home comforts since she 
+left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and 
+the aftermath of the Cup to deal with — that revolting 
+Skeeter woman buzzing around — no, poor man, he’s 
+having a well earned, quiet Christmas. I’m just glad 
+he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take 
+his place.” 
+
+Harry wanted very much to ask whether Mr. Crouch 
+had stopped calling Percy “Weatherby” yet, but 
+resisted the temptation. 
+
+There was no food as yet on the glittering golden 
+plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of 
+them. Harry picked his up uncertainly and looked 
+around — there were no waiters. Dumbledore, 
+however, looked carefully down at his own menu, 
+then said very clearly to his plate, “Pork chops!” 
+
+And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of 
+the table placed their orders with their plates too. 
+Harry glanced up at Hermione to see how she felt 
+about this new and more complicated method of 
+dining — surely it meant plenty of extra work for the 
+house-elves? — but for once, Hermione didn’t seem to 
+be thinking about S.P.E.W. She was deep in talk with 
+Viktor Krum and hardly seemed to notice what she 
+was eating. 
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+It now occurred to Harry that he had never actually 
+heard Krum speak before, but he was certainly 
+talking now, and very enthusiastically at that. 
+
+“Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as 
+comfortable, I am thinking,” he was telling Hermione. 
+“Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for 
+magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even 
+than these — though in vinter, ve have very little 
+daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer 
+ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the 
+mountains — ” 
+
+“Now, now, Viktor!” said Karkaroff with a laugh that 
+didn’t reach his cold eyes, “don’t go giving away 
+anything else, now, or your charming friend will know 
+exactly where to find us!” 
+
+Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Igor, all this 
+secrecy ... one would almost think you didn’t want 
+visitors.” 
+
+“Well, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, displaying his 
+yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, “we are all 
+protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we 
+not jealously guard the halls of learning that have 
+been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud 
+that we alone know our school’s secrets, and right to 
+protect them?” 
+
+“Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all 
+Hogwarts’ secrets, Igor,” said Dumbledore amicably. 
+“Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong 
+turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself 
+in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen 
+before, containing a really rather magnificent 
+collection of chamber pots. When I went back to 
+investigate more closely, I discovered that the room 
+had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. 
+
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+Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the 
+morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon 
+— or when the seeker has an exceptionally full 
+bladder.” 
+
+Harry snorted into his plate of goulash. Percy 
+frowned, but Harry could have sworn Dumbledore 
+had given him a very small wink. 
+
+Meanwhile Fleur Delacour was criticizing the 
+Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies. 
+
+“Zis is nothing,” she said dismissively, looking around 
+at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. “At ze Palace 
+of Beauxbatons, we ’ave ice sculptures all around ze 
+dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of 
+course . . . zey are like ’uge statues of diamond, 
+glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply 
+superb. And we ’ave choirs of wood nymphs, ’oo 
+serenade us as we eat. We ’ave none of zis ugly armor 
+in ze ’alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into 
+Beauxbatons, ’e would be expelled like zat.” She 
+slapped her hand onto the table impatiently. 
+
+Roger Davies was watching her talk with a very dazed 
+look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with 
+his fork. Harry had the impression that Davies was 
+too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she was 
+saying. 
+
+“Absolutely right,” he said quickly, slapping his own 
+hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. “Like 
+that. Yeah.” 
+
+Harry looked around the Hall. Hagrid was sitting at 
+one of the other staff tables; he was back in his 
+horrible hairy brown suit and gazing up at the top 
+table. Harry saw him give a small wave, and looking 
+
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+around, saw Madame Maxime return it, her opals 
+glittering in the candlelight. 
+
+Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name 
+properly; he kept calling her “Hermy-own.” 
+
+“Her-my-oh-nee,” she said slowly and clearly. 
+
+“Herm-own-ninny.” 
+
+“Close enough,” she said, catching Harry’s eye and 
+grinning. 
+
+When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore 
+stood up and asked the students to do the same. 
+
+Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed 
+back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then 
+he conjured a raised platform into existence along the 
+right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a 
+cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. 
+
+The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to 
+wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely 
+hairy and dressed in black robes that had been 
+artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their 
+instruments, and Harry, who had been so interested 
+in watching them that he had almost forgotten what 
+was coming, suddenly realized that the lanterns on all 
+the other tables had gone out, and that the other 
+champions and their partners were standing up. 
+
+“Come on!” Parvati hissed. “We’re supposed to dance!” 
+
+Harry tripped over his dress robes as he stood up. 
+
+The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; 
+Harry walked onto the brightly lit dance floor, 
+carefully avoiding catching anyone’s eye (he could see 
+Seamus and Dean waving at him and sniggering), and 
+next moment, Parvati had seized his hands, placed 
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+one around her waist, and was holding the other 
+tightly in hers. 
+
+It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, Harry thought, 
+revolving slowly on the spot (Parvati was steering) . He 
+kept his eyes fixed over the heads of the watching 
+people, and very soon many of them too had come 
+onto the dance floor, so that the champions were no 
+longer the center of attention. Neville and Ginny were 
+dancing nearby — he could see Ginny wincing 
+frequently as Neville trod on her feet — and 
+Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He 
+was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat 
+barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very 
+gracefully for a woman so large. Mad-Eye Moody was 
+doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor 
+Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg. 
+
+“Nice socks, Potter,” Moody growled as he passed, his 
+magical eye staring through Harry’s robes. 
+
+“Oh — yeah, Dobby the house-elf knitted them for 
+me,” said Harry, grinning. 
+
+“He is so creepy\” Parvati whispered as Moody 
+clunked away. “I don’t think that eye should be 
+allowed]” 
+
+Harry heard the final, quavering note from the 
+bagpipe with relief. The Weird Sisters stopped playing, 
+applause filled the hall once more, and Harry let go of 
+Parvati at once. 
+
+“Let’s sit down, shall we?” 
+
+“Oh — but — this is a really good one!” Parvati said 
+as the Weird Sisters struck up a new song, which was 
+much faster. 
+
+
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+“No, I don’t like it,” Harry lied, and he led her away 
+from the dance floor, past Fred and Angelina, who 
+were dancing so exhuberantly that people around 
+them were backing away in fear of injury, and over to 
+the table where Ron and Padma were sitting. 
+
+“How’s it going?” Harry asked Ron, sitting down and 
+opening a bottle of butterbeer. 
+
+Ron didn’t answer. He was glaring at Hermione and 
+Krum, who were dancing nearby. Padma was sitting 
+with her arms and legs crossed, one foot jiggling in 
+time to the music. Every now and then she threw a 
+disgruntled look at Ron, who was completely ignoring 
+her. Parvati sat down on Harry’s other side, crossed 
+her arms and legs too, and within minutes was asked 
+to dance by a boy from Beauxbatons. 
+
+“You don’t mind, do you, Harry?” Parvati said. 
+
+“What?” said Harry, who was now watching Cho and 
+Cedric. 
+
+“Oh never mind,” snapped Parvati, and she went off 
+with the boy from Beauxbatons. When the song 
+ended, she did not return. 
+
+Hermione came over and sat down in Parvati’s empty 
+chair. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing. 
+
+“Hi,” said Harry. Ron didn’t say anything. 
+
+“It’s hot, isn’t it?” said Hermione, fanning herself with 
+her hand. “Viktor’s just gone to get some drinks.” 
+
+Ron gave her a withering look. “Viktor?” he said. 
+“Hasn’t he asked you to call him Vicky yet?” 
+
+
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+Hermione looked at him in surprise. “What’s up with 
+you?” she said. 
+
+“If you don’t know,” said Ron scathingly, “I’m not 
+going to tell you.” 
+
+Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who 
+shrugged. 
+
+“Ron, what — ?” 
+
+“He’s from Durmstrang!” spat Ron. “He’s competing 
+against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You — you’re — ” 
+Ron was obviously casting around for words strong 
+enough to describe Hermione ’s crime, “ fraternizing 
+with the enemy, that’s what you’re doing!” 
+
+Hermione’s mouth fell open. 
+
+“Don’t be so stupid!” she said after a moment. “The 
+enemy\ Honestly — who was the one who was all 
+excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one 
+who wanted his autograph? Who’s got a model of him 
+up in their dormitory?” 
+
+Ron chose to ignore this. “I s’pose he asked you to 
+come with him while you were both in the library?” 
+
+“Yes, he did,” said Hermione, the pink patches on her 
+cheeks glowing more brightly. “So what?” 
+
+“What happened — trying to get him to join spew, 
+were you?” 
+
+“No, I wasn’t! If you really want to know, he — he said 
+he’d been coming up to the library every day to try 
+and talk to me, but he hadn’t been able to pluck up 
+the courage!” 
+
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+Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so 
+deeply that she was the same color as Parvati’s robes. 
+
+“Yeah, well — that’s his story,” said Ron nastily. 
+
+“And what’s that supposed to mean?” 
+
+“Obvious, isn’t it? He’s Karkaroff’s student, isn’t he? 
+He knows who you hang around with. ... He’s just 
+trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information 
+on him — or get near enough to jinx him — ” 
+
+Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. 
+When she spoke, her voice quivered. 
+
+“For your information, he hasn’t asked me one single 
+thing about Harry, not one — ” 
+
+Ron changed tack at the speed of light. 
+
+“Then he’s hoping you’ll help him find out what his 
+egg means! I suppose you’ve been putting your heads 
+together during those cozy little library sessions — ” 
+
+“I’d never help him work out that egg!” said Hermione, 
+looking outraged. “Never. How could you say 
+something like that — I want Harry to win the 
+tournament, Harry knows that, don’t you, Harry?” 
+
+“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” sneered Ron. 
+
+“This whole tournament’s supposed to be about 
+getting to know foreign wizards and making friends 
+with them!” said Hermione hotly. 
+
+“No it isn’t!” shouted Ron. “It’s about winning!” 
+
+People were starting to stare at them. 
+
+
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+“Ron,” said Harry quietly, “I haven’t got a problem 
+with Hermione coming with Krum — ” 
+
+But Ron ignored Harry too. 
+
+“Why don’t you go and find Vicky, he’ll be wondering 
+where you are,” said Ron. 
+
+“Don’t call him Vickyl” 
+
+Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across 
+the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron 
+watched her go with a mixture of anger and 
+satisfaction on his face. 
+
+“Are you going to ask me to dance at all?” Padma 
+asked him. 
+
+“No,” said Ron, still glaring after Hermione. 
+
+“Fine,” snapped Padma, and she got up and went to 
+join Parvati and the Beauxbatons boy, who conjured 
+up one of his friends to join them so fast that Harry 
+could have sworn he had zoomed him there by a 
+Summoning Charm. 
+
+“Vare is Herm-own-ninny?” said a voice. 
+
+Krum had just arrived at their table clutching two 
+butterbeers. 
+
+“No idea,” said Ron mulishly, looking up at him. “Lost 
+her, have you?” 
+
+Krum was looking surly again. 
+
+“Veil, if you see her, tell her I haff drinks,” he said, 
+and he slouched off. 
+
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+“Made friends with Viktor Krum, have you, Ron?” 
+
+
+
+Percy had bustled over, rubbing his hands together 
+and looking extremely pompous. “Excellent! That’s 
+the whole point, you know — international magical 
+cooperation!” 
+
+To Harry’s displeasure, Percy now took Padma’s 
+vacated seat. The top table was now empty; Professor 
+Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo 
+Bagman with Professor McGonagall; Madame Maxime 
+and Hagrid were cutting a wide path around the 
+dance floor as they waltzed through the students, and 
+Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen. When the next 
+song ended, everybody applauded once more, and 
+Harry saw Ludo Bagman kiss Professor McGonagall’s 
+hand and make his way back through the crowds, at 
+which point Fred and George accosted him. 
+
+“What do they think they’re doing, annoying senior 
+Ministry members?” Percy hissed, watching Fred and 
+George suspiciously. “No respect ...” 
+
+Ludo Bagman shook off Fred and George fairly 
+quickly, however, and, spotting Harry, waved and 
+came over to their table. 
+
+“I hope my brothers weren’t bothering you, Mr. 
+Bagman?” said Percy at once. 
+
+“What? Oh not at all, not at all!” said Bagman. “No, 
+they were just telling me a bit more about those fake 
+wands of theirs. Wondering if I could advise them on 
+the marketing. I’ve promised to put them in touch 
+with a couple of contacts of mine at Zonko’s Joke 
+Shop. ...” 
+
+Percy didn’t look happy about this at all, and Harry 
+was prepared to bet he would be rushing to tell Mrs. 
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+Weasley about this the moment he got home. 
+Apparently Fred and George’s plans had grown even 
+more ambitious lately, if they were hoping to sell to 
+the public. Bagman opened his mouth to ask Harry 
+something, but Percy diverted him. 
+
+“How do you feel the tournament’s going, Mr. 
+
+Bagman? Our department’s quite satisfied — the 
+hitch with the Goblet of Fire” — he glanced at Harry 
+— “was a little unfortunate, of course, but it seems to 
+have gone very smoothly since, don’t you think?” 
+
+“Oh yes,” Bagman said cheerfully, “it’s all been 
+enormous fun. How’s old Barty doing? Shame he 
+couldn’t come.” 
+
+“Oh I’m sure Mr. Crouch will be up and about in no 
+time,” said Percy importantly, “but in the meantime, 
+I’m more than willing to take up the slack. Of course, 
+it’s not all attending balls” — he laughed airily — “oh 
+no, I’ve had to deal with all sorts of things that have 
+cropped up in his absence — you heard Ali Bashir 
+was caught smuggling a consignment of flying carpets 
+into the country? And then we’ve been trying to 
+persuade the Transylvanians to sign the International 
+Ban on Dueling. I’ve got a meeting with their Head of 
+Magical Cooperation in the new year — ” 
+
+“Let’s go for a walk,” Ron muttered to Harry, “get 
+away from Percy. ...” 
+
+Pretending they wanted more drinks, Harry and Ron 
+left the table, edged around the dance floor, and 
+slipped out into the entrance hall. The front doors 
+stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose 
+garden winked and twinkled as they went down the 
+front steps, where they found themselves surrounded 
+by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large 
+stone statues. Harry could hear splashing water, 
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+which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people 
+were sitting on carved benches. He and Ron set off 
+along one of the winding paths through the 
+rosebushes, but they had gone only a short way when 
+they heard an unpleasantly familiar voice. 
+
+"... don’t see what there is to fuss about, Igor.” 
+
+“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” 
+Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as 
+though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting 
+clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming 
+seriously concerned, I can’t deny it — ” 
+
+“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will 
+make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at 
+Hogwarts.” 
+
+Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape 
+had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, 
+his expression most ill-natured. Squeals issued from 
+many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from 
+them. 
+
+“Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!” Snape snarled 
+as a girl ran past him. “And ten points from Hufflepuff 
+too, Stebbins!” as a boy went rushing after her. “And 
+what are you two doing?” he added, catching sight of 
+Harry and Ron on the path ahead. Karkaroff, Harry 
+saw, looked slightly discomposed to see them 
+standing there. His hand went nervously to his 
+goatee, and he began winding it around his finger. 
+
+“We’re walking,” Ron told Snape shortly. “Not against 
+the law, is it?” 
+
+“Keep walking, then!” Snape snarled, and he brushed 
+past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind 
+
+
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+him. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape. Harry and 
+Ron continued down the path. 
+
+“What’s got Karkaroff all worried?” Ron muttered. 
+
+“And since when have he and Snape been on first- 
+name terms?” said Harry slowly. 
+
+They had reached a large stone reindeer now, over 
+which they could see the sparkling jets of a tall 
+fountain. The shadowy outlines of two enormous 
+people were visible on a stone bench, watching the 
+water in the moonlight. And then Harry heard Hagrid 
+speak. 
+
+“Momen’ I saw yeh, I knew,” he was saying, in an 
+oddly husky voice. 
+
+Harry and Ron froze. This didn’t sound like the sort of 
+scene they ought to walk in on, somehow. . . . Harry 
+looked around, back up the path, and saw Fleur 
+Delacour and Roger Davies standing half-concealed in 
+a rosebush nearby. He tapped Ron on the shoulder 
+and jerked his head toward them, meaning that they 
+could easily sneak off that way without being noticed 
+(Fleur and Davies looked very busy to Harry), but 
+Ron, eyes widening in horror at the sight of Fleur, 
+shook his head vigorously, and pulled Harry deeper 
+into the shadows behind the reindeer. 
+
+“What did you know, ’Agrid?” said Madame Maxime, a 
+purr in her low voice. 
+
+Harry definitely didn’t want to listen to this; he knew 
+Hagrid would hate to be overheard in a situation like 
+this (he certainly would have) — if it had been 
+possible he would have put his fingers in his ears and 
+hummed loudly, but that wasn’t really an option. 
+Instead he tried to interest himself in a beetle 
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+crawling along the stone reindeer’s back, but the 
+beetle just wasn’t interesting enough to block out 
+Hagrid’s next words. 
+
+“I jus’ knew ... knew you were like me. ... Was it yer 
+mother or yer father?” 
+
+“I — I don’t know what you mean, ’Agrid. ...” 
+
+“It was my mother,” said Hagrid quietly. “She was one 
+o’ the las’ ones in Britain. ’Course, I can’ remember 
+her too well ... she left, see. When I was abou’ three. 
+She wasn’ really the maternal sort. Well ... it’s not in 
+their natures, is it? Dunno what happened to her ... 
+might be dead fer all I know. ...” 
+
+Madame Maxime didn’t say anything. And Harry, in 
+spite of himself, took his eyes off the beetle and 
+looked over the top of the reindeer’s antlers, listening. 
+
+. . . He had never heard Hagrid talk about his 
+childhood before. 
+
+“Me dad was broken-hearted when she wen’. Tiny 
+little bloke, my dad was. By the time I was six I could 
+lift him up an’ put him on top o’ the dresser if he 
+annoyed me. Used ter make him laugh. ...” Hagrid’s 
+deep voice broke. Madame Maxime was listening, 
+motionless, apparently staring at the silvery fountain. 
+“Dad raised me ... but he died, o’ course, jus’ after I 
+started school. Sorta had ter make me own way after 
+that. Dumbledore was a real help, mind. Very kind ter 
+me, he was. ...” 
+
+Hagrid pulled out a large spotted silk handkerchief 
+and blew his nose heavily. 
+
+“So ... anyway ... enough abou’ me. What about you? 
+Which side you got it on?” 
+
+
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+But Madame Maxime had suddenly got to her feet. 
+
+“It is chilly,” she said — but whatever the weather 
+was doing, it was nowhere near as cold as her voice. 
+
+“I think I will go in now.” 
+
+“Eh?” said Hagrid blankly. “No, don’ go! I’ve — I’ve 
+never met another one before!” 
+
+“Anuzzer what, precisely?” said Madame Maxime, her 
+tone icy. 
+
+Harry could have told Hagrid it was best not to 
+answer; he stood there in the shadows gritting his 
+teeth, hoping against hope he wouldn’t — but it was 
+no good. 
+
+“Another half-giant, o’ course!” said Hagrid. 
+
+“ ’Ow dare you!” shrieked Madame Maxime. Her voice 
+exploded through the peaceful night air like a 
+foghorn; behind him, Harry heard Fleur and Roger fall 
+out of their rosebush. “I ’ave nevair been more 
+insulted in my life! ’Alf-giant? Moi? I ’ave — I ’ave big 
+bones!” 
+
+She stormed away; great multicolored swarms of 
+fairies rose into the air as she passed, angrily pushing 
+aside bushes. Hagrid was still sitting on the bench, 
+staring after her. It was much too dark to make out 
+his expression. Then, after about a minute, he stood 
+up and strode away, not back to the castle, but off 
+out into the dark grounds in the direction of his 
+cabin. 
+
+“C’mon,” Harry said, very quietly to Ron. “Let’s go. ...” 
+But Ron didn’t move. 
+
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+“What’s up?” said Harry, looking at him. 
+
+Ron looked around at Harry, his expression very 
+serious indeed. 
+
+“Did you know?” he whispered. “About Hagrid being 
+half-giant?” 
+
+“No,” Harry said, shrugging. “So what?” 
+
+He knew immediately, from the look Ron was giving 
+him, that he was once again revealing his ignorance 
+of the wizarding world. Brought up by the Dursleys, 
+there were many things that wizards took for granted 
+that were revelations to Harry, but these surprises 
+had become fewer with each successive year. Now, 
+however, he could tell that most wizards would not 
+have said “So what?” upon finding out that one of 
+their friends had a giantess for a mother. 
+
+“I’ll explain inside,” said Ron quietly, “c’mon. ...” 
+
+Fleur and Roger Davies had disappeared, probably 
+into a more private clump of bushes. Harry and Ron 
+returned to the Great Hall. Parvati and Padma were 
+now sitting at a distant table with a whole crowd of 
+Beauxbatons boys, and Hermione was once more 
+dancing with Krum. Harry and Ron sat down at a 
+table far removed from the dance floor. 
+
+“So?” Harry prompted Ron. “What’s the problem with 
+giants?” 
+
+“Well, they’re ... they’re ...” Ron struggled for words. 
+"... not very nice,” he finished lamely. 
+
+“Who cares?” Harry said. “There’s nothing wrong with 
+Hagrid!” 
+
+
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+“I know there isn’t, but ... blimey, no wonder he keeps 
+it quiet,” Ron said, shaking his head. “I always 
+thought he’d got in the way of a bad Engorgement 
+Charm when he was a kid or something. Didn’t like to 
+mention it. ...” 
+
+“But what’s it matter if his mother was a giantess?” 
+said Harry. 
+
+“Well ... no one who knows him will care, ’cos they’ll 
+know he’s not dangerous,” said Ron slowly. “But ... 
+Harry, they’re just vicious, giants. It’s like Hagrid 
+said, it’s in their natures, they’re like trolls ... they 
+just like killing, everyone knows that. There aren’t 
+any left in Britain now, though.” 
+
+“What happened to them?” 
+
+“Well, they were dying out anyway, and then loads got 
+themselves killed by Aurors. There ’re supposed to be 
+giants abroad, though. ... They hide out in mountains 
+mostly. ...” 
+
+“I don’t know who Maxime thinks she’s kidding,” 
+
+Harry said, watching Madame Maxime sitting alone at 
+the judges’ table, looking very somber. “If Hagrid ’s 
+half-giant, she definitely is. Big bones ... the only 
+thing that’s got bigger bones than her is a dinosaur.” 
+
+Harry and Ron spent the rest of the ball discussing 
+giants in their corner, neither of them having any 
+inclination to dance. Harry tried not to watch Cho 
+and Cedric too much; it gave him a strong desire to 
+kick something. 
+
+When the Weird Sisters finished playing at midnight, 
+everyone gave them a last, loud round of applause 
+and started to wend their way into the entrance hall. 
+Many people were expressing the wish that the ball 
+
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+
+
+
+
+could have gone on longer, but Harry was perfectly 
+happy to be going to bed; as far as he was concerned, 
+the evening hadn’t been much fun. 
+
+Out in the entrance hall, Harry and Ron saw 
+Hermione saying good night to Krum before he went 
+back to the Durmstrang ship. She gave Ron a very 
+cold look and swept past him up the marble staircase 
+without speaking. Harry and Ron followed her, but 
+halfway up the staircase Harry heard someone calling 
+him. 
+
+“Hey — Harry!” 
+
+It was Cedric Diggory. Harry could see Cho waiting for 
+him in the entrance hall below. 
+
+“Yeah?” said Harry coldly as Cedric ran up the stairs 
+toward him. 
+
+Cedric looked as though he didn’t want to say 
+whatever it was in front of Ron, who shrugged, 
+looking bad-tempered, and continued to climb the 
+stairs. 
+
+“Listen ...” Cedric lowered his voice as Ron 
+disappeared. “I owe you one for telling me about the 
+dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail 
+when you open it?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry. 
+
+“Well ... take a bath, okay?” 
+
+“What?” 
+
+“Take a bath, and — er — take the egg with you, and 
+— er — just mull things over in the hot water. It’ll 
+help you think. ... Trust me.” 
+
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+
+
+
+Harry stared at him. 
+
+“Tell you what,” Cedric said, “use the prefects’ 
+bathroom. Fourth door to the left of that statue of 
+Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password’s 
+‘pine fresh. ’ Gotta go . . . want to say good night — ” 
+
+He grinned at Harry again and hurried back down the 
+stairs to Cho. 
+
+Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower alone. That 
+had been extremely strange advice. Why would a bath 
+help him to work out what the wailing egg meant? 
+Was Cedric pulling his leg? Was he trying to make 
+Harry look like a fool, so Cho would like him even 
+more by comparison? 
+
+The Fat Lady and her friend Vi were snoozing in the 
+picture over the portrait hole. Harry had to yell “Fairy 
+lights!” before he woke them up, and when he did, 
+they were extremely irritated. He climbed into the 
+common room and found Ron and Hermione having a 
+blazing row. Standing ten feet apart, they were 
+bellowing at each other, each scarlet in the face. 
+
+“Well, if you don’t like it, you know what the solution 
+is, don’t you?” yelled Hermione; her hair was coming 
+down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was 
+screwed up in anger. 
+
+“Oh yeah?” Ron yelled back. “What’s that?” 
+
+“Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else 
+does, and not as a last resort!” 
+
+Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water 
+as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the 
+girls’ staircase to bed. Ron turned to look at Harry. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Well,” he sputtered, looking thunderstruck, “well — 
+that just proves — completely missed the point — ” 
+
+Harry didn’t say anything. He liked being back on 
+speaking terms with Ron too much to speak his mind 
+right now — but he somehow thought that Hermione 
+had gotten the point much better than Ron had. 
+
+
+
+Page | 478 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+RITA SKEBTER’S SCOOP 
+
+Everybody got up late on Boxing Day. The Gryffindor 
+common room was much quieter than it had been 
+lately, many yawns punctuating the lazy 
+conversations. Hermione’s hair was bushy again; she 
+confessed to Harry that she had used liberal amounts 
+of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion on it for the ball, “but it’s 
+way too much bother to do every day,” she said 
+matter-of-factly, scratching a purring Crookshanks 
+behind the ears. 
+
+Ron and Hermione seemed to have reached an 
+unspoken agreement not to discuss their argument. 
+They were being quite friendly to each other, though 
+oddly formal. Ron and Harry wasted no time in telling 
+Hermione about the conversation they had overheard 
+between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione 
+didn’t seem to find the news that Hagrid was a half- 
+giant nearly as shocking as Ron did. 
+
+“Well, I thought he must be,” she said, shrugging. “I 
+knew he couldn’t be pure giant because they’re about 
+twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about 
+
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+
+
+
+giants. They can’t all be horrible. ... It’s the same sort 
+of prejudice that people have toward werewolves. ... 
+
+It’s just bigotry, isn’t it?” 
+
+Ron looked as though he would have liked to reply 
+scathingly, but perhaps he didn’t want another row, 
+because he contented himself with shaking his head 
+disbelievingly while Hermione wasn’t looking. 
+
+It was time now to think of the homework they had 
+neglected during the first week of the holidays. 
+Everybody seemed to be feeling rather flat now that 
+Christmas was over — everybody except Harry, that 
+is, who was starting (once again) to feel slightly 
+nervous. 
+
+The trouble was that February the twenty-fourth 
+looked a lot closer from this side of Christmas, and he 
+still hadn’t done anything about working out the clue 
+inside the golden egg. He therefore started taking the 
+egg out of his trunk every time he went up to the 
+dormitory, opening it, and listening intently, hoping 
+that this time it would make some sense. He strained 
+to think what the sound reminded him of, apart from 
+thirty musical saws, but he had never heard anything 
+else like it. He closed the egg, shook it vigorously, and 
+opened it again to see if the sound had changed, but 
+it hadn’t. He tried asking the egg questions, shouting 
+over all the wailing, but nothing happened. He even 
+threw the egg across the room — though he hadn’t 
+really expected that to help. 
+
+Harry had not forgotten the hint that Cedric had 
+given him, but his less-than-friendly feelings toward 
+Cedric just now meant that he was keen not to take 
+his help if he could avoid it. In any case, it seemed to 
+him that if Cedric had really wanted to give Harry a 
+hand, he would have been a lot more explicit. He, 
+Harry, had told Cedric exactly what was coming in 
+Page | 480 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+the first task — and Cedric’s idea of a fair exchange 
+had been to tell Harry to take a bath. Well, he didn’t 
+need that sort of rubbishy help — not from someone 
+who kept walking down corridors hand in hand with 
+Cho, anyway. And so the first day of the new term 
+arrived, and Harry set off to lessons, weighed down 
+with books, parchment, and quills as usual, but also 
+with the lurking worry of the egg heavy in his 
+stomach, as though he were carrying that around 
+with him too. 
+
+Snow was still thick upon the grounds, and the 
+greenhouse windows were covered in condensation so 
+thick that they couldn’t see out of them in Herbology. 
+Nobody was looking forward to Care of Magical 
+Creatures much in this weather, though as Ron said, 
+the skrewts would probably warm them up nicely, 
+either by chasing them, or blasting off so forcefully 
+that Hagrid’s cabin would catch fire. 
+
+When they arrived at Hagrid’s cabin, however, they 
+found an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair 
+and a very prominent chin standing before his front 
+door. 
+
+“Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago,” she 
+barked at them as they struggled toward her through 
+the snow. 
+
+“Who ’re you?” said Ron, staring at her. “Where’s 
+Hagrid?” 
+
+“My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank,” she said 
+briskly. “I am your temporary Care of Magical 
+Creatures teacher.” 
+
+“Where’s Hagrid?” Harry repeated loudly. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“He is indisposed,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank 
+shortly. 
+
+Soft and unpleasant laughter reached Harry’s ears. 
+
+He turned; Draco Malfoy and the rest of the 
+Slytherins were joining the class. All of them looked 
+gleeful, and none of them looked surprised to see 
+Professor Grubbly-Plank. 
+
+“This way, please,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and 
+she strode off around the paddock where the 
+Beauxbatons horses were shivering. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione followed her, looking back over their 
+shoulders at Hagrid’s cabin. All the curtains were 
+closed. Was Hagrid in there, alone and ill? 
+
+“What’s wrong with Hagrid?” Harry said, hurrying to 
+catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank. 
+
+“Never you mind,” she said as though she thought he 
+was being nosy. 
+
+“I do mind, though,” said Harry hotly. “What’s up with 
+him?” 
+
+Professor Grubbly-Plank acted as though she couldn’t 
+hear him. She led them past the paddock where the 
+huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled 
+against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the 
+forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was 
+tethered. 
+
+Many of the girls “ooooohed!” at the sight of the 
+unicorn. 
+
+“Oh it’s so beautiful!” whispered Lavender Brown. 
+“How did she get it? They’re supposed to be really 
+hard to catch!” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+The unicorn was so brightly white it made the snow 
+all around look gray. It was pawing the ground 
+nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back 
+its horned head. 
+
+“Boys keep back!” barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, 
+throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the 
+chest. “They prefer the woman’s touch, unicorns. 
+Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, 
+easy does it. ...” 
+
+She and the girls walked slowly forward toward the 
+unicorn, leaving the boys standing near the paddock 
+fence, watching. The moment Professor Grubbly- 
+Plank was out of earshot, Harry turned to Ron. 
+
+“What d’you reckon’s wrong with him? You don’t 
+think a skrewt — ?” 
+
+“Oh he hasn’t been attacked, Potter, if that’s what 
+you’re thinking,” said Malfoy softly. “No, he’s just too 
+ashamed to show his big, ugly face.” 
+
+“What d’you mean?” said Harry sharply. 
+
+Malfoy put his hand inside the pocket of his robes 
+and pulled out a folded page of newsprint. 
+
+“There you go,” he said. “Hate to break it to you, 
+Potter. ...” 
+
+He smirked as Harry snatched the page, unfolded it, 
+and read it, with Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville 
+looking over his shoulder. It was an article topped 
+with a picture of Hagrid looking extremely shifty. 
+
+DUMBLEDORE’S GIANT MISTAKE 
+
+
+
+Page | 483 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts 
+School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been 
+afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes 
+Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of 
+this year, he hired Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, the 
+notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense 
+Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many 
+raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given 
+Moody’s well-known habit of attacking anybody who 
+makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye 
+Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when 
+set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to 
+teach Care of Magical Creatures. 
+
+Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from 
+Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of 
+gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for 
+him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used 
+his mysterious influence over the headmaster to 
+secure the additional post of Care of Magical 
+Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better- 
+qualified candidates. 
+
+An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, 
+
+Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to 
+terrify the students in his care with a succession of 
+horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind 
+eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series 
+of lessons that many admit to being “very 
+frightening.” 
+
+“I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent 
+Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm,” says Draco 
+Malfoy, a fourth-year student. “We all hate Hagrid, 
+but we’re just too scared to say anything.” 
+
+Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of 
+intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily 
+Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding 
+
+Page | 484 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+creatures he has dubbed “Blast-Ended Skrewts, ” 
+highly dangerous crosses between manticores and fire- 
+crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature 
+is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by 
+the Department for the Regulation and Control of 
+Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself 
+to be above such petty restrictions. 
+
+“I was just having some fun,” he says, before hastily 
+changing the subject. 
+
+As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now 
+unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not — as he has 
+always pretended — a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in 
+fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively 
+reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, 
+whose whereabouts are currently unknown. 
+
+Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought 
+themselves to the point of extinction by warring 
+amongst themselves during the last century. The 
+handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who- 
+Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some 
+of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of 
+terror. 
+
+While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must- 
+Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against 
+the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is 
+possible she escaped to one of the giant communities 
+still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics 
+during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any 
+guide, however, Fridwulfa’s son appears to have 
+inherited her brutal nature. 
+
+In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed 
+a close friendship with the boy who brought around 
+You-Know- Who’s fall from power — thereby driving 
+Hagrid ’s own mother, like the rest of You-Know- Who’s 
+
+Page | 485 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is 
+unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large 
+friend — but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to 
+ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow 
+students, is warned about the dangers of associating 
+with part-giants. 
+
+
+
+Harry finished reading and looked up at Ron, whose 
+mouth was hanging open. 
+
+“How did she find out?” he whispered. 
+
+But that wasn’t what was bothering Harry. 
+
+“What d’you mean, “we all hate Hagrid’?” Harry spat 
+at Malfoy. “What’s this rubbish about him” — he 
+pointed at Crabbe — “getting a bad bite off a 
+flobberworm? They haven’t even got teeth!” 
+
+Crabbe was sniggering, apparently very pleased with 
+himself. 
+
+“Well, I think this should put an end to the oaf’s 
+teaching career,” said Malfoy, his eyes glinting. “Half- 
+giant ... and there was me thinking he’d just 
+swallowed a bottle of Skele-Gro when he was young. 
+
+... None of the mummies and daddies are going to like 
+this at all. ... They’ll be worried he’ll eat their kids, ha, 
+ha. ...” 
+
+“You — ” 
+
+“Are you paying attention over there?” 
+
+Professor Grubbly-Plank’s voice carried over to the 
+boys; the girls were all clustered around the unicorn 
+now, stroking it. Harry was so angry that the Daily 
+
+Page |486 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Prophet article shook in his hands as he turned to 
+stare unseeingly at the unicorn, whose many magical 
+properties Professor Grubbly-Plank was now 
+enumerating in a loud voice, so that the boys could 
+hear too. 
+
+“I hope she stays, that woman!” said Parvati Patil 
+when the lesson had ended and they were all heading 
+back to the castle for lunch. “That’s more what I 
+thought Care of Magical Creatures would be like . . . 
+proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters. ...” 
+
+“What about Hagrid?” Harry said angrily as they went 
+up the steps. 
+
+“What about him?” said Parvati in a hard voice. “He 
+can still be gamekeeper, can’t he?” 
+
+Parvati had been very cool toward Harry since the 
+ball. He supposed that he ought to have paid her a bit 
+more attention, but she seemed to have had a good 
+time all the same. She was certainly telling anybody 
+who would listen that she had made arrangements to 
+meet the boy from Beauxbatons in Hogsmeade on the 
+next weekend trip. 
+
+“That was a really good lesson,” said Hermione as 
+they entered the Great Hall. “I didn’t know half the 
+things Professor Grubbly-Plank told us about uni — ” 
+
+“Look at this!” Harry snarled, and he shoved the Daily 
+Prophet article under Hermione ’s nose. 
+
+Hermione ’s mouth fell open as she read. Her reaction 
+was exactly the same as Ron’s. 
+
+“How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You 
+don’t think Hagrid told her?” 
+
+
+
+Page | 487 
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+
+
+“No,” said Harry, leading the way over to the 
+Gryffindor table and throwing himself into a chair, 
+furious. “He never even told us, did he? I reckon she 
+was so mad he wouldn’t give her loads of horrible 
+stuff about me, she went ferreting around to get him 
+back.” 
+
+“Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxime at the 
+ball,” said Hermione quietly. 
+
+“We’d have seen her in the garden!” said Ron. 
+“Anyway, she’s not supposed to come into school 
+anymore, Hagrid said Dumbledore banned her. ...” 
+
+“Maybe she’s got an Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry, 
+ladling chicken casserole onto his plate and splashing 
+it everywhere in his anger. “Sort of thing she’d do, 
+isn’t it, hide in bushes listening to people.” 
+
+“Like you and Ron did, you mean,” said Hermione. 
+
+“We weren’t trying to hear him!” said Ron indignantly. 
+“We didn’t have any choice! The stupid prat, talking 
+about his giantess mother where anyone could have 
+heard him!” 
+
+“We’ve got to go and see him,” said Harry. “This 
+evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back 
+... you do want him back?” he shot at Hermione. 
+
+“I — well, I’m not going to pretend it didn’t make a 
+nice change, having a proper Care of Magical 
+Creatures lesson for once — but I do want Hagrid 
+back, of course I do!” Hermione added hastily, 
+quailing under Harry’s furious stare. 
+
+So that evening after dinner, the three of them left the 
+castle once more and went down through the frozen 
+
+
+
+Page | 488 
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+
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+
+grounds to Hagrid’s cabin. They knocked, and Fang’s 
+booming barks answered. 
+
+“Hagrid, it’s us!” Harry shouted, pounding on the 
+door. “Open up! 
+
+Hagrid didn’t answer. They could hear Fang 
+scratching at the door, whining, but it didn’t open. 
+They hammered on it for ten more minutes; Ron even 
+went and banged on one of the windows, but there 
+was no response. 
+
+“What’s he avoiding us for?” Hermione said when they 
+had finally given up and were walking back to the 
+school. “He surely doesn’t think we’d care about him 
+being half-giant?” 
+
+But it seemed that Hagrid did care. They didn’t see a 
+sign of him all week. He didn’t appear at the staff 
+table at mealtimes, they didn’t see him going about 
+his gamekeeper duties on the grounds, and Professor 
+Grubbly-Plank continued to take the Care of Magical 
+Creatures classes. Malfoy was gloating at every 
+possible opportunity. 
+
+“Missing your half-breed pal?” he kept whispering to 
+Harry whenever there was a teacher around, so that 
+he was safe from Harry’s retaliation. “Missing the 
+elephant-man?” 
+
+There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through 
+January. Hermione was very surprised that Harry 
+was going to go. 
+
+“I just thought you’d want to take advantage of the 
+common room being quiet,” she said. “Really get to 
+work on that egg.” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Oh I — I reckon I’ve got a pretty good idea what it’s 
+about now,” Harry lied. 
+
+“Have you really?” said Hermione, looking impressed. 
+“Well done!” 
+
+Harry’s insides gave a guilty squirm, but he ignored 
+them. He still had five weeks to work out that egg 
+clue, after all, and that was ages ... whereas if he 
+went into Hogsmeade, he might run into Hagrid, and 
+get a chance to persuade him to come back. 
+
+He, Ron, and Hermione left the castle together on 
+Saturday and set off through the cold, wet grounds 
+toward the gates. As they passed the Durmstrang 
+ship moored in the lake, they saw Viktor Krum 
+emerge onto the deck, dressed in nothing but 
+swimming trunks. He was very skinny indeed, but 
+apparently a lot tougher than he looked, because he 
+climbed up onto the side of the ship, stretched out his 
+arms, and dived, right into the lake. 
+
+“He’s mad!” said Harry, staring at Krum’s dark head 
+as it bobbed out into the middle of the lake. “It must 
+be freezing, it’s January!” 
+
+“It’s a lot colder where he comes from,” said 
+Hermione. “I suppose it feels quite warm to him.” 
+
+“Yeah, but there’s still the giant squid,” said Ron. He 
+didn’t sound anxious — if anything, he sounded 
+hopeful. Hermione noticed his tone of voice and 
+frowned. 
+
+“He’s really nice, you know,” she said. “He’s not at all 
+like you’d think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it 
+much better here, he told me.” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Ron said nothing. He hadn’t mentioned Viktor Krum 
+since the ball, but Harry had found a miniature arm 
+under his bed on Boxing Day, which had looked very 
+much as though it had been snapped off a small 
+model figure wearing Bulgarian Quidditch robes. 
+
+Harry kept his eyes skinned for a sign of Hagrid all 
+the way down the slushy High Street, and suggested a 
+visit to the Three Broomsticks once he had 
+ascertained that Hagrid was not in any of the shops. 
+
+The pub was as crowded as ever, but one quick look 
+around at all the tables told Harry that Hagrid wasn’t 
+there. Heart sinking, he went up to the bar with Ron 
+and Hermione, ordered three butter-beers from 
+Madam Rosmerta, and thought gloomily that he 
+might just as well have stayed behind and listened to 
+the egg wailing after all. 
+
+“Doesn’t he ever go into the office?” Hermione 
+whispered suddenly. “Look!” 
+
+She pointed into the mirror behind the bar, and Harry 
+saw Ludo Bagman reflected there, sitting in a 
+shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was 
+talking very fast in a low voice to the goblins, all of 
+whom had their arms crossed and were looking rather 
+menacing. 
+
+It was indeed odd, Harry thought, that Bagman was 
+here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when 
+there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no 
+judging to be done. He watched Bagman in the 
+mirror. He was looking strained again, quite as 
+strained as he had that night in the forest before the 
+Dark Mark had appeared. But just then Bagman 
+glanced over at the bar, saw Harry, and stood up. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“In a moment, in a moment!” Harry heard him say 
+brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried 
+through the pub toward Harry, his boyish grin back 
+in place. 
+
+“Harry!” he said. “How are you? Been hoping to run 
+into you! Everything going all right?” 
+
+“Fine, thanks,” said Harry. 
+
+“Wonder if I could have a quick, private word, Harry?” 
+said Bagman eagerly. “You couldn’t give us a 
+moment, you two, could you?” 
+
+“Er — okay,” said Ron, and he and Hermione went off 
+to find a table. 
+
+Bagman led Harry along the bar to the end furthest 
+from Madam Rosmerta. 
+
+“Well, I just thought I’d congratulate you again on 
+your splendid performance against that Horntail, 
+Harry,” said Bagman. “Really superb.” 
+
+“Thanks,” said Harry, but he knew this couldn’t be all 
+that Bagman wanted to say, because he could have 
+congratulated Harry in front of Ron and Hermione. 
+Bagman didn’t seem in any particular rush to spill 
+the beans, though. Harry saw him glance into the 
+mirror over the bar at the goblins, who were all 
+watching him and Harry in silence through their 
+dark, slanting eyes. 
+
+“Absolute nightmare,” said Bagman to Harry in an 
+undertone, noticing Harry watching the goblins too. 
+“Their English isn’t too good ... it’s like being back 
+with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup ... 
+but at least they used sign language another human 
+could recognize. This lot keep gabbling in 
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+
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+
+Gobbledegook . . . and I only know one word of 
+Gobbledegook. Bladvak. It means ‘pickax.’ I don’t like 
+to use it in case they think I’m threatening them.” 
+
+He gave a short, booming laugh. 
+
+“What do they want?” Harry said, noticing how the 
+goblins were still watching Bagman very closely. 
+
+“Er — well ...” said Bagman, looking suddenly 
+nervous. “They ... er ... they’re looking for Barry 
+Crouch.” 
+
+“Why are they looking for him here?” said Harry. “He’s 
+at the Ministry in London, isn’t he?” 
+
+“Er ... as a matter of fact, I’ve no idea where he is,” 
+said Bagman. “He’s sort of ... stopped coming to work. 
+Been absent for a couple of weeks now. Young Percy, 
+his assistant, says he’s ill. Apparently he’s just been 
+sending instructions in by owl. But would you mind 
+not mentioning that to anyone, Harry? Because Rita 
+Skeeter’s still poking around everywhere she can, and 
+I’m willing to bet she’d work up Barty’s illness into 
+something sinister. Probably say he’s gone missing 
+like Bertha Jorkins.” 
+
+“Have you heard anything about Bertha Jorkins?” 
+Harry asked. 
+
+“No,” said Bagman, looking strained again. “I’ve got 
+people looking, of course ...” (About time, thought 
+Harry) “and it’s all very strange. She definitely arrived 
+in Albania, because she met her second cousin there. 
+And then she left the cousin’s house to go south and 
+see an aunt . . . and she seems to have vanished 
+without trace en route. Blowed if I can see where 
+she’s got to ... she doesn’t seem the type to elope, for 
+instance ... but still. ... What are we doing, talking 
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+
+
+
+about goblins and Bertha Jorkins? I really wanted to 
+ask you” — he lowered his voice — “how are you 
+getting on with your golden egg?” 
+
+“Er ... not bad,” Harry said untruthfully. 
+
+Bagman seemed to know he wasn’t being honest. 
+
+“Listen, Harry,” he said (still in a very low voice), “I 
+feel very bad about all this . . . you were thrown into 
+this tournament, you didn’t volunteer for it... and if 
+...” (his voice was so quiet now, Harry had to lean 
+closer to listen) “if I can help at all ... a prod in the 
+right direction ... I’ve taken a liking to you ... the way 
+you got past that dragon! ... well, just say the word.” 
+
+Harry stared up into Bagman’s round, rosy face and 
+his wide, baby-blue eyes. 
+
+“We’re supposed to work out the clues alone, aren’t 
+we?” he said, careful to keep his voice casual and not 
+sound as though he was accusing the head of the 
+Department of Magical Games and Sports of breaking 
+the rules. 
+
+“Well ... well, yes,” said Bagman impatiently, “but — 
+come on, Harry — we all want a Hogwarts victory, 
+don’t we?” 
+
+“Have you offered Cedric help?” Harry said. 
+
+The smallest of frowns creased Bagman’s smooth 
+face. “No, I haven’t,” he said. “I — well, like I say, I’ve 
+taken a liking to you. Just thought I’d offer ...” 
+
+“Well, thanks,” said Harry, “but I think I’m nearly 
+there with the egg . . . couple more days should crack 
+it.” 
+
+
+
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+He wasn’t entirely sure why he was refusing 
+Bagman’s help, except that Bagman was almost a 
+stranger to him, and accepting his assistance would 
+feel somehow much more like cheating than asking 
+advice from Ron, Hermione, or Sirius. 
+
+Bagman looked almost affronted, but couldn’t say 
+much more as Fred and George turned up at that 
+point. 
+
+“Hello, Mr. Bagman,” said Fred brightly. “Can we buy 
+you a drink?” 
+
+“Er ... no,” said Bagman, with a last disappointed 
+glance at Harry, “no, thank you, boys ...” 
+
+Fred and George looked quite as disappointed as 
+Bagman, who was surveying Harry as though he had 
+let him down badly. 
+
+“Well, I must dash,” he said. “Nice seeing you all. 
+
+Good luck, Harry.” 
+
+He hurried out of the pub. The goblins all slid off their 
+chairs and exited after him. Harry went to rejoin Ron 
+and Hermione. 
+
+“What did he want?” Ron said, the moment Harry had 
+sat down. 
+
+“He offered to help me with the golden egg,” said 
+Harry. 
+
+“He shouldn’t be doing that!” said Hermione, looking 
+very shocked. “He’s one of the judges! And anyway, 
+you’ve already worked it out — haven’t you?” 
+
+“Er ... nearly,” said Harry. 
+
+
+
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+“Well, I don’t think Dumbledore would like it if he 
+knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat!” 
+said Hermione, still looking deeply disapproving. “I 
+hope he’s trying to help Cedric as much!” 
+
+“He’s not, I asked,” said Harry. 
+
+“Who cares if Diggory’s getting help?” said Ron. Harry 
+privately agreed. 
+
+“Those goblins didn’t look very friendly,” said 
+Hermione, sipping her butterbeer. “What were they 
+doing here?” 
+
+“Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman,” said 
+Harry. “He’s still ill. Hasn’t been into work.” 
+
+“Maybe Percy’s poisoning him,” said Ron. “Probably 
+thinks if Crouch snuffs it he’ll be made head of the 
+Department of International Magical Cooperation.” 
+
+Hermione gave Ron a don’t -joke-about-things-like- 
+that look, and said, “Funny, goblins looking for Mr. 
+Crouch. . . . They’d normally deal with the Department 
+for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.” 
+
+“Crouch can speak loads of different languages, 
+though,” said Harry. “Maybe they need an 
+interpreter.” 
+
+“Worrying about poor ’ickle goblins, now, are you?” 
+Ron asked Hermione. “Thinking of starting up 
+S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of 
+Ugly Goblins?” 
+
+“Ha, ha, ha,” said Hermione sarcastically. “Goblins 
+don’t need protection. Haven’t you been listening to 
+what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin 
+rebellions?” 
+
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+
+“No,” said Harry and Ron together. 
+
+“Well, they’re quite capable of dealing with wizards,” 
+said Hermione, taking another sip of butterbeer. 
+“They’re very clever. They’re not like house-elves, who 
+never stick up for themselves.” 
+
+“Uh-oh,” said Ron, staring at the door. 
+
+Rita Skeeter had just entered. She was wearing 
+banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were 
+painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by 
+her paunchy photographer. She bought drinks, and 
+she and the photographer made their way through 
+the crowds to a table nearby, Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione glaring at her as she approached. She was 
+talking fast and looking very satisfied about 
+something. 
+
+"... didn’t seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? 
+Now, why would that be, do you think? And what’s he 
+doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing 
+them the sights . . . what nonsense ... he was always a 
+bad liar. Reckon something’s up? Think we should do 
+a bit of digging? ‘Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical 
+Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman ...’ Snappy start to 
+a sentence, Bozo — we just need to find a story to fit 
+it — ” 
+
+
+
+“Trying to ruin someone else’s life?” said Harry loudly. 
+
+A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter ’s eyes 
+widened behind her jeweled spectacles as she saw 
+who had spoken. 
+
+“Harry!” she said, beaming. “How lovely! Why don’t 
+you come and join — ?” 
+
+
+
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+
+“I wouldn’t come near you with a ten-foot 
+broomstick,” said Harry furiously. “What did you do 
+that to Hagrid for, eh?” 
+
+Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrows. 
+
+“Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am 
+merely doing my — ” 
+
+“Who cares if he’s half- giant?” Harry shouted. “There’s 
+nothing wrong with him!” 
+
+The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta 
+was staring over from behind the bar, apparently 
+oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling 
+with mead was overflowing. 
+
+Rita Skeeter’s smile flickered very slightly, but she 
+hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her 
+crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes 
+Quill, and said, “How about giving me an interview 
+about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind 
+the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the 
+reasons behind it. Would you call him a father 
+substitute?” 
+
+Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer 
+clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade. 
+
+“You horrible woman,” she said, through gritted teeth, 
+“you don’t care, do you, anything for a story, and 
+anyone will do, won’t they? Even Ludo Bagman — ” 
+
+“Sit down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about 
+things you don’t understand,” said Rita Skeeter 
+coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. “I 
+know things about Ludo Bagman that would make 
+your hair curl . . . not that it needs it — ” she added, 
+eyeing Hermione ’s bushy hair. 
+
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+
+“Let’s go,” said Hermione, “c’mon, Harry — Ron ...” 
+
+
+
+They left; many people were staring at them as they 
+went. Harry glanced back as they reached the door. 
+Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was 
+zooming backward and forward over a piece of 
+parchment on the table. 
+
+“She’ll be after you next, Hermione,” said Ron in a low 
+and worried voice as they walked quickly back up the 
+street. 
+
+“Let her try!” said Hermione defiantly; she was 
+shaking with rage. “I’ll show her! Silly little girl, am I? 
+Oh, I’ll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid 
+
+
+
+“You don’t want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter,” said 
+Ron nervously. “I’m serious, Hermione, she’ll dig up 
+something on you — ” 
+
+“My parents don’t read the Daily Prophet She can’t 
+scare me into hiding!” said Hermione, now striding 
+along so fast that it was all Harry and Ron could do to 
+keep up with her. The last time Harry had seen 
+Hermione in a rage like this, she had hit Draco Malfoy 
+around the face. “And Hagrid isn’t hiding anymore! 
+
+He should never have let that excuse for a human 
+being upset him! Come on!” 
+
+Breaking into a run, she led them all the way back up 
+the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, 
+and up through the grounds to Hagrid ’s cabin. 
+
+The curtains were still drawn, and they could hear 
+Fang barking as they approached. 
+
+“Hagrid!” Hermione shouted, pounding on his front 
+door. “Hagrid, that’s enough! We know you’re in there! 
+
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+Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! 
+
+You can’t let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! 
+Hagrid, get out here, you’re just being — ” 
+
+The door opened. Hermione said, “About t — !” and 
+then stopped, very suddenly, because she had found 
+herself face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus 
+Dumbledore. 
+
+“Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly, smiling down at 
+them. 
+
+“We — er — we wanted to see Hagrid,” said Hermione 
+in a rather small voice. 
+
+“Yes, I surmised as much,” said Dumbledore, his eyes 
+twinkling. “Why don’t you come in?” 
+
+“Oh ... um ... okay,” said Hermione. 
+
+She, Ron, and Harry went into the cabin; Fang 
+launched himself upon Harry the moment he entered, 
+barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Harry 
+fended off Fang and looked around. 
+
+Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two 
+large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was 
+blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the 
+other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from 
+trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of 
+tangled wire. 
+
+“Hi, Hagrid,” said Harry. 
+
+Hagrid looked up. 
+
+“ ’Lo,” he said in a very hoarse voice. 
+
+
+
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+“More tea, I think,” said Dumbledore, closing the door 
+behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione, drawing out his 
+wand, and twiddling it; a revolving tea tray appeared 
+in midair along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore 
+magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat 
+down. There was a slight pause, and then 
+Dumbledore said, “Did you by any chance hear what 
+Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?” 
+
+Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled 
+at her and continued, “Hermione, Harry, and Ron still 
+seem to want to know you, judging by the way they 
+were attempting to break down the door.” 
+
+“Of course we still want to know you!” Harry said, 
+staring at Hagrid. “You don’t think anything that 
+Skeeter cow — sorry, Professor,” he added quickly, 
+looking at Dumbledore. 
+
+“I have gone temporarily deaf and haven’t any idea 
+what you said, Harry,” said Dumbledore, twiddling 
+his thumbs and staring at the ceiling. 
+
+“Er — right,” said Harry sheepishly. “I just meant — 
+Hagrid, how could you think we’d care what that — 
+woman — wrote about you?” 
+
+Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid ’s beetle-black eyes 
+and fell slowly into his tangled beard. 
+
+“Living proof of what I’ve been telling you, Hagrid,” 
+said Dumbledore, still looking carefully up at the 
+ceiling. “I have shown you the letters from the 
+countless parents who remember you from their own 
+days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I 
+sacked you, they would have something to say about 
+it — ” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Not all of ’em,” said Hagrid hoarsely. “Not all of ’em 
+wan’ me ter stay.” 
+
+“Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal 
+popularity, I’m afraid you will be in this cabin for a 
+very long time,” said Dumbledore, now peering sternly 
+over his half-moon spectacles. “Not a week has 
+passed since I became headmaster of this school 
+when I haven’t had at least one owl complaining 
+about the way I run it. But what should I do? 
+Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to 
+anybody?” 
+
+“Yeh — yeh’re not half-giant!” said Hagrid croakily. 
+
+“Hagrid, look what I’ve got for relatives!” Harry said 
+furiously. “Look at the Dursleys!” 
+
+“An excellent point,” said Professor Dumbledore. “My 
+own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing 
+inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the 
+papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He 
+held his head high and went about his business as 
+usual! Of course, I’m not entirely sure he can read, so 
+that may not have been bravery. ...” 
+
+“Come back and teach, Hagrid,” said Hermione 
+quietly, “please come back, we really miss you.” 
+
+Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks 
+and into his tangled beard. 
+
+Dumbledore stood up. “I refuse to accept your 
+resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on 
+Monday,” he said. “You will join me for breakfast at 
+eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good 
+afternoon to you all.” 
+
+
+
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+
+Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch 
+Fang’s ears. When the door had shut behind him, 
+Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-sized hands. 
+Hermione kept patting his arm, and at last, Hagrid 
+looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, “Great 
+man, Dumbledore ... great man ...” 
+
+“Yeah, he is,” said Ron. “Can I have one of these 
+cakes, Hagrid?” 
+
+“Help yerself,” said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on the 
+back of his hand. “Ar, he’s righ’, o’ course — yeh’re all 
+righ’ ... I bin stupid ... my ol’ dad woulda bin 
+ashamed o’ the way I’ve bin behavin’. ...” More tears 
+leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, 
+and said, “Never shown you a picture of my old dad, 
+have I? Here ...” 
+
+Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a 
+drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard 
+with Hagrid’s crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat 
+on top of Hagrid’s shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven 
+or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, 
+but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth 
+— he looked hardly older than eleven. 
+
+“Tha’ was taken jus’ after I got inter Hogwarts,” 
+
+Hagrid croaked. “Dad was dead chuffed ... thought I 
+migh’ not be a wizard, see, ’cos me mum ... well, 
+anyway. ’Course, I never was great shakes at magic, 
+really ... but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, 
+see, in me second year. ... 
+
+“Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after 
+Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job ... trusts 
+people, he does. Gives ’em second chances ... tha’s 
+what sets him apar’ from other heads, see. He’ll 
+accept anyone at Hogwarts, s’long as they’ve got the 
+talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their 
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+
+
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+
+families weren’ ... well ... all tha’ respectable. But 
+some don’ understand that. There’s some who’d 
+always hold it against yeh ... there’s some who’d even 
+pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up 
+an’ say — I am what I am, an’ I’m not ashamed. 
+
+‘Never be ashamed,’ my ol’ dad used ter say, ‘there’s 
+some wholl hold it against you, but they’re not worth 
+botherin’ with.’ An’ he was right. I’ve bin an idiot. I’m 
+not botherin’ with her no more, I promise yeh that. 
+
+Big bones ... I’ll give her big bones.” 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another 
+nervously; Harry would rather have taken fifty Blast- 
+Ended Skrewts for a walk than admit to Hagrid that 
+he had overheard him talking to Madame Maxime, 
+but Hagrid was still talking, apparently unaware that 
+he had said anything odd. 
+
+“Yeh know wha’, Harry?” he said, looking up from the 
+photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, “when I 
+firs’ met you, you reminded me o’ me a bit. Mum an’ 
+Dad gone, an’ you was feelin’ like yeh wouldn’ fit in at 
+Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to 
+it ... an’ now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!” 
+
+He looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very 
+seriously, “Yeh know what I’d love, Harry? I’d love yeh 
+ter win, I really would. It’d show ’em all ... yeh don’ 
+have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don’ have ter be 
+ashamed of what yeh are. It’d show ’em Dumbledore’s 
+the one who’s got it righ’, lettin’ anyone in as long as 
+they can do magic. How you doin’ with that egg, 
+Harry?” 
+
+“Great,” said Harry. “Really great.” 
+
+Hagrid ’s miserable face broke into a wide, watery 
+smile. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Tha’s my boy ... you show ’em, Harry, you show ’em. 
+Beat ’em all.” 
+
+Lying to Hagrid wasn’t quite like lying to anyone else. 
+Harry went back to the castle later that afternoon 
+with Ron and Hermione, unable to banish the image 
+of the happy expression on Hagrid’s whiskery face as 
+he had imagined Harry winning the tournament. The 
+incomprehensible egg weighed more heavily than ever 
+on Harry’s conscience that evening, and by the time 
+he had got into bed, he had made up his mind — it 
+was time to shelve his pride and see if Cedric’s hint 
+was worth anything. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+THE EGG AND THE EYE 
+
+As Harry had no idea how long a bath he would need 
+to work out the secret of the golden egg, he decided to 
+do it at night, when he would be able to take as much 
+time as he wanted. Reluctant though he was to accept 
+more favours from Cedric, he also decided to use the 
+prefects’ bathroom; far fewer people were allowed in 
+there, so it was much less likely that he would be 
+disturbed. 
+
+Harry planned his excursion carefully, because he 
+had been caught out of bed and out-of-bounds by 
+Filch the caretaker in the middle of the night once 
+before, and had no desire to repeat the experience. 
+
+The Invisibility Cloak would, of course, be essential, 
+and as an added precaution, Harry thought he would 
+take the Marauder’s Map, which, next to the cloak, 
+was the most useful aid to rule-breaking Harry 
+owned. The map showed the whole of Hogwarts, 
+including its many shortcuts and secret passageways 
+and, most important of all, it revealed the people 
+inside the castle as minuscule, labeled dots, moving 
+around the corridors, so that Harry would be 
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+
+
+forewarned if somebody was approaching the 
+bathroom. 
+
+
+
+On Thursday night, Harry sneaked up to bed, put on 
+the cloak, crept back downstairs, and, just as he had 
+done on the night when Hagrid had shown him the 
+dragons, waited for the portrait hole to open. This 
+time it was Ron who waited outside to give the Fat 
+Lady the password (“banana fritters”). “Good luck,” 
+Ron muttered, climbing into the room as Harry crept 
+out past him. 
+
+It was awkward moving under the cloak tonight, 
+because Harry had the heavy egg under one arm and 
+the map held in front of his nose with the other. 
+However, the moonlit corridors were empty and silent, 
+and by checking the map at strategic intervals, Harry 
+was able to ensure that he wouldn’t run into anyone 
+he wanted to avoid. When he reached the statue of 
+Boris the Bewildered, a lost-looking wizard with his 
+gloves on the wrong hands, he located the right door, 
+leaned close to it, and muttered the password, “Pine 
+fresh,” just as Cedric had told him. 
+
+The door creaked open. Harry slipped inside, bolted 
+the door behind him, and pulled off the Invisibility 
+Cloak, looking around. 
+
+His immediate reaction was that it would be worth 
+becoming a prefect just to be able to use this 
+bathroom. It was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled 
+chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, 
+including what looked like an empty, rectangular 
+swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. 
+
+About a hundred golden taps stood all around the 
+pool’s edges, each with a differently colored jewel set 
+into its handle. There was also a diving board. Long 
+white linen curtains hung at the windows; a large pile 
+of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a 
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+
+
+
+single golden-framed painting on the wall. It featured 
+a blonde mermaid who was fast asleep on a rock, her 
+long hair over her face. It fluttered every time she 
+snored. 
+
+Harry moved forward, looking around, his footsteps 
+echoing off the walls. Magnificent though the 
+bathroom was — and quite keen though he was to try 
+out a few of those taps — now he was here he 
+couldn’t quite suppress the feeling that Cedric might 
+have been having him on. How on earth was this 
+supposed to help solve the mystery of the egg? 
+Nevertheless, he put one of the fluffy towels, the 
+cloak, the map, and the egg at the side of the 
+swimming-pool-sized bath, then knelt down and 
+turned on a few of the taps. 
+
+He could tell at once that they carried different sorts 
+of bubble bath mixed with the water, though it wasn’t 
+bubble bath as Harry had ever experienced it. One 
+tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of 
+footballs; another poured ice-white foam so thick that 
+Harry thought it would have supported his weight if 
+he’d cared to test it; a third sent heavily perfumed 
+purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water. 
+Harry amused himself for a while turning the taps on 
+and off, particularly enjoying the effect of one whose 
+jet bounced off the surface of the water in large arcs. 
+Then, when the deep pool was full of hot water, foam, 
+and bubbles, which took a very short time 
+considering its size, Harry turned off all the taps, 
+pulled off his pajamas, slippers, and dressing gown, 
+and slid into the water. 
+
+It was so deep that his feet barely touched the 
+bottom, and he actually did a couple of lengths before 
+swimming back to the side and treading water, 
+staring at the egg. Highly enjoyable though it was to 
+swim in hot and foamy water with clouds of different- 
+Page | 508 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+colored steam wafting all around him, no stroke of 
+brilliance came to him, no sudden burst of 
+understanding. 
+
+Harry stretched out his arms, lifted the egg in his wet 
+hands, and opened it. The wailing, screeching sound 
+filled the bathroom, echoing and reverberating off the 
+marble walls, but it sounded just as 
+incomprehensible as ever, if not more so with all the 
+echoes. He snapped it shut again, worried that the 
+sound would attract Filch, wondering whether that 
+hadn’t been Cedric’s plan — and then, making him 
+jump so badly that he dropped the egg, which 
+clattered away across the bathroom floor, someone 
+spoke. 
+
+“I’d try putting it in the water, if I were you.” 
+
+Harry had swallowed a considerable amount of 
+bubbles in shock. He stood up, sputtering, and saw 
+the ghost of a very glum-looking girl sitting cross- 
+legged on top of one of the taps. It was Moaning 
+Myrtle, who was usually to be heard sobbing in the S- 
+bend of a toilet three floors below. 
+
+“Myrtle!” Harry said in outrage, “I’m — I’m not 
+wearing anything!” 
+
+The foam was so dense that this hardly mattered, but 
+he had a nasty feeling that Myrtle had been spying on 
+him from out of one of the taps ever since he had 
+arrived. 
+
+“I closed my eyes when you got in,” she said, blinking 
+at him through her thick spectacles. “You haven’t 
+been to see me for ages.” 
+
+“Yeah ... well ...” said Harry, bending his knees 
+slightly, just to make absolutely sure Myrtle couldn’t 
+
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+
+
+
+
+see anything but his head, “I’m not supposed to come 
+into your bathroom, am I? It’s a girls’ one.” 
+
+
+
+“You didn’t used to care,” said Myrtle miserably. “You 
+used to be in there all the time.” 
+
+This was true, though only because Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione had found Myrtle’s out-of-order toilets a 
+convenient place to brew Polyjuice Potion in secret — 
+a forbidden potion that had turned him and Ron into 
+living replicas of Crabbe and Goyle for an hour, so 
+that they could sneak into the Slytherin common 
+room. 
+
+“I got told off for going in there,” said Harry, which 
+was half-true; Percy had once caught him coming out 
+of Myrtle’s bathroom. “I thought I’d better not come 
+back after that.” 
+
+“Oh ... I see ...” said Myrtle, picking at a spot on her 
+chin in a morose sort of way. “Well... anyway ... I’d try 
+the egg in the water. That’s what Cedric Diggory did.” 
+
+“Have you been spying on him too?” said Harry 
+indignantly. “What d’you do, sneak up here in the 
+evenings to watch the prefects take baths?” 
+
+“Sometimes,” said Myrtle, rather slyly, “but I’ve never 
+come out to speak to anyone before.” 
+
+“I’m honored,” said Harry darkly. “You keep your eyes 
+shut!” 
+
+He made sure Myrtle had her glasses well covered 
+before hoisting himself out of the bath, wrapping the 
+towel firmly around his waist, and going to retrieve 
+the egg. Once he was back in the water, Myrtle peered 
+through her fingers and said, “Go on, then . . . open it 
+under the water!” 
+
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+
+
+Harry lowered the egg beneath the foamy surface and 
+opened it ... and this time, it did not wail. A gurgling 
+song was coming out of it, a song whose words he 
+couldn’t distinguish through the water. 
+
+“You need to put your head under too,” said Myrtle, 
+who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying bossing him 
+around. “Go on!” 
+
+Harry took a great breath and slid under the surface 
+— and now, sitting on the marble bottom of the 
+bubble-filled bath, he heard a chorus of eerie voices 
+singing to him from the open egg in his hands: 
+
+“Come seek us where our voices sound, 
+
+We cannot sing above the ground, 
+
+And while you’re searching ponder this: 
+
+We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss, 
+
+An hour long you’ll have to look, 
+
+And to recover what we took, 
+
+But past an hour — the prospect’s black, 
+
+Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.” 
+
+Harry let himself float back upward and broke the 
+bubbly surface, shaking his hair out of his eyes. 
+
+“Hear it?” said Myrtle. 
+
+“Yeah ... ‘Come seek us where our voices sound ...’ 
+and if I need persuading . . . hang on, I need to listen 
+again. ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+He sank back beneath the water. It took three more 
+underwater renditions of the egg’s song before Harry 
+had it memorized; then he trod water for a while, 
+thinking hard, while Myrtle sat and watched him. 
+
+“I’ve got to go and look for people who can’t use their 
+voices above the ground. ...” he said slowly. “Er ... 
+who could that be?” 
+
+“Slow, aren’t you?” 
+
+He had never seen Moaning Myrtle so cheerful, apart 
+from the day when a dose of Polyjuice Potion had 
+given Hermione the hairy face and tail of a cat. Harry 
+stared around the bathroom, thinking ... if the voices 
+could only be heard underwater, then it made sense 
+for them to belong to underwater creatures. He ran 
+this theory past Myrtle, who smirked at him. 
+
+“Well, that’s what Diggory thought,” she said. “He lay 
+there talking to himself for ages about it. Ages and 
+ages ... nearly all the bubbles had gone. ...” 
+
+“Underwater ...” Harry said slowly. “Myrtle ... what 
+lives in the lake, apart from the giant squid?” 
+
+“Oh all sorts,” she said. “I sometimes go down there 
+... sometimes don’t have any choice, if someone 
+flushes my toilet when I’m not expecting it. ...” 
+
+Trying not to think about Moaning Myrtle zooming 
+down a pipe to the lake with the contents of a toilet, 
+Harry said, “Well, does anything in there have a 
+human voice? Hang on — ” 
+
+Harry’s eyes had fallen on the picture of the snoozing 
+mermaid on the wall. 
+
+“Myrtle, there aren’t merpeople in there, are there?” 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Oooh, very good,” she said, her thick glasses 
+twinkling, “it took Diggory much longer than that! 
+
+And that was with her awake too” — Myrtle jerked her 
+head toward the mermaid with an expression of great 
+dislike on her glum face — “giggling and showing off 
+and flashing her fins. ...” 
+
+“That’s it, isn’t it?” said Harry excitedly. “The second 
+task’s to go and find the merpeople in the lake and . . . 
+and ...” 
+
+But he suddenly realized what he was saying, and he 
+felt the excitement drain out of him as though 
+someone had just pulled a plug in his stomach. He 
+wasn’t a very good swimmer; he’d never had much 
+practice. Dudley had had lessons in his youth, but 
+Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, no doubt hoping 
+that Harry would drown one day, hadn’t bothered to 
+give him any. A couple of lengths of this bath were all 
+very well, but that lake was very large, and very deep 
+. . . and merpeople would surely live right at the 
+bottom. ... 
+
+“Myrtle,” Harry said slowly, “how am I supposed to 
+breathe ?” 
+
+At this, Myrtle’s eyes filled with sudden tears again. 
+
+“Tactless!” she muttered, groping in her robes for a 
+handkerchief. 
+
+“What’s tactless?” said Harry, bewildered. 
+
+“Talking about breathing in front of me!” she said 
+shrilly, and her voice echoed loudly around the 
+bathroom. “When I can’t ... when I haven’t ... not for 
+ages ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+She buried her face in her handkerchief and sniffed 
+loudly. Harry remembered how touchy Myrtle had 
+always been about being dead, but none of the other 
+ghosts he knew made such a fuss about it. 
+
+“Sorry,” he said impatiently. “I didn’t mean — I just 
+forgot ...” 
+
+“Oh yes, very easy to forget Myrtle’s dead,” said 
+Myrtle, gulping, looking at him out of swollen eyes. 
+“Nobody missed me even when I was alive. Took them 
+hours and hours to find my body — I know, I was 
+sitting there waiting for them. Olive Hornby came into 
+the bathroom — ‘Are you in here again, sulking, 
+Myrtle?’ she said, ‘because Professor Dippet asked me 
+to look for you — ’ And then she saw my body . . . 
+ooooh, she didn’t forget it until her dying day, I made 
+sure of that . . . followed her around and reminded her, 
+I did. I remember at her brother’s wedding — ” 
+
+But Harry wasn’t listening; he was thinking about the 
+merpeople’s song again. “We’ve taken what you’ll 
+sorely miss.” That sounded as though they were going 
+to steal something of his, something he had to get 
+back. What were they going to take? 
+
+“ — and then, of course, she went to the Ministry of 
+Magic to stop me stalking her, so I had to come back 
+here and live in my toilet.” 
+
+“Good,” said Harry vaguely. “Well, I’m a lot further on 
+than I was. ... Shut your eyes again, will you? I’m 
+getting out.” 
+
+He retrieved the egg from the bottom of the bath, 
+climbed out, dried himself, and pulled on his pajamas 
+and dressing gown again. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Will you come and visit me in my bathroom again 
+sometime?” Moaning Myrtle asked mournfully as 
+Harry picked up the Invisibility Cloak. 
+
+“Er ... I’ll try,” Harry said, though privately thinking 
+the only way he’d be visiting Myrtle’s bathroom again 
+was if every other toilet in the castle got blocked. “See 
+you, Myrtle ... thanks for your help.” 
+
+“ ’Bye, ’bye,” she said gloomily, and as Harry put on 
+the Invisibility Cloak he saw her zoom back up the 
+tap. 
+
+Out in the dark corridor, Harry examined the 
+Marauder’s Map to check that the coast was still 
+clear. Yes, the dots belonging to Filch and his cat, 
+
+Mrs. Norris, were safely in their office ... nothing else 
+seemed to be moving apart from Peeves, though he 
+was bouncing around the trophy room on the floor 
+above. ... Harry had taken his first step back toward 
+Gryffindor Tower when something else on the map 
+caught his eye ... something distinctly odd. 
+
+Peeves was not the only thing that was moving. A 
+single dot was flitting around a room in the bottom 
+left-hand corner — Snape’s office. But the dot wasn’t 
+labeled “Severus Snape” ... it was Bartemius Crouch. 
+
+Harry stared at the dot. Mr. Crouch was supposed to 
+be too ill to go to work or to come to the Yule Ball — 
+so what was he doing, sneaking into Hogwarts at one 
+o’clock in the morning? Harry watched closely as the 
+dot moved around and around the room, pausing 
+here and there. ... 
+
+Harry hesitated, thinking . . . and then his curiosity got 
+the better of him. He turned and set off in the 
+opposite direction toward the nearest staircase. He 
+was going to see what Crouch was up to. 
+
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+
+Harry walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, 
+though the faces in some of the portraits still turned 
+curiously at the squeak of a floorboard, the rustle of 
+his pajamas. He crept along the corridor below, 
+pushed aside a tapestry about halfway along, and 
+proceeded down a narrower staircase, a shortcut that 
+would take him down two floors. He kept glancing 
+down at the map, wondering ... It just didn’t seem in 
+character, somehow, for correct, law-abiding Mr. 
+Crouch to be sneaking around somebody else’s office 
+this late at night. ... 
+
+And then, halfway down the staircase, not thinking 
+about what he was doing, not concentrating on 
+anything but the peculiar behavior of Mr. Crouch, 
+Harry’s leg suddenly sank right through the trick step 
+Neville always forgot to jump. He gave an ungainly 
+wobble, and the golden egg, still damp from the bath, 
+slipped from under his arm. He lurched forward to try 
+and catch it, but too late; the egg fell down the long 
+staircase with a bang as loud as a bass drum on 
+every step — the Invisibility Cloak slipped — Harry 
+snatched at it, and the Marauder’s Map fluttered out 
+of his hand and slid down six stairs, where, sunk in 
+the step to above his knee, he couldn’t reach it. 
+
+The golden egg fell through the tapestry at the bottom 
+of the staircase, burst open, and began wailing loudly 
+in the corridor below. Harry pulled out his wand and 
+struggled to touch the Marauder’s Map, to wipe it 
+blank, but it was too far away to reach — 
+
+Pulling the cloak back over himself Harry 
+straightened up, listening hard with his eyes screwed 
+up with fear ... and, almost immediately — 
+
+“PEEVES!” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+It was the unmistakable hunting cry of Filch the 
+caretaker. Harry could hear his rapid, shuffling 
+footsteps coming nearer and nearer, his wheezy voice 
+raised in fury. 
+
+“What’s this racket? Wake up the whole castle, will 
+you? I’ll have you, Peeves, I’ll have you, you’ll ... and 
+what is this?” 
+
+Filch ’s footsteps halted; there was a clink of metal on 
+metal and the wailing stopped — Filch had picked up 
+the egg and closed it. Harry stood very still, one leg 
+still jammed tightly in the magical step, listening. Any 
+moment now, Filch was going to pull aside the 
+tapestry, expecting to see Peeves . . . and there would 
+be no Peeves ... but if he came up the stairs, he would 
+spot the Marauder’s Map ... and Invisibility Cloak or 
+not, the map would show “Harry Potter” standing 
+exactly where he was. 
+
+“Egg?” Filch said quietly at the foot of the stairs. “My 
+sweet!” — Mrs. Norris was obviously with him — “This 
+is a Triwizard clue! This belongs to a school 
+champion!” 
+
+Harry felt sick; his heart was hammering very fast — 
+
+“PEEVES!” Filch roared gleefully. “You’ve been 
+stealing!” 
+
+He ripped back the tapestry below, and Harry saw his 
+horrible, pouchy face and bulging, pale eyes staring 
+up the dark and (to Filch) deserted staircase. 
+
+“Hiding, are you?” he said softly. “I’m coming to get 
+you, Peeves. ... You’ve gone and stolen a Tri wizard 
+clue, Peeves. ... Dumbledore’ll have you out of here 
+for this, you filthy, pilfering poltergeist. ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+Filch started to climb the stairs, his scrawny, dust- 
+colored cat at his heels. Mrs. Norris’s lamp-like eyes, 
+so very like her master’s, were fixed directly upon 
+Harry. He had had occasion before now to wonder 
+whether the Invisibility Cloak worked on cats. ... Sick 
+with apprehension, he watched Filch drawing nearer 
+and nearer in his old flannel dressing gown — he 
+tried desperately to pull his trapped leg free, but it 
+merely sank a few more inches — any second now, 
+Filch was going to spot the map or walk right into him 
+
+
+
+“Filch? What’s going on?” 
+
+Filch stopped a few steps below Harry and turned. At 
+the foot of the stairs stood the only person who could 
+make Harry’s situation worse: Snape. He was wearing 
+a long gray nightshirt and he looked livid. 
+
+“It’s Peeves, Professor,” Filch whispered malevolently. 
+“He threw this egg down the stairs.” 
+
+Snape climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped 
+beside Filch. Harry gritted his teeth, convinced his 
+loudly thumping heart would give him away at any 
+second. ... 
+
+“Peeves?” said Snape softly, staring at the egg in 
+Filch’s hands. “But Peeves couldn’t get into my office. 
+
+
+
+“This egg was in your office, Professor?” 
+
+“Of course not,” Snape snapped. “I heard banging and 
+wailing — ” 
+
+“Yes, Professor, that was the egg — ” 
+
+“ — I was coming to investigate — ” 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“ — Peeves threw it, Professor — ” 
+
+“ — and when I passed my office, I saw that the 
+torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! 
+Somebody has been searching it!” 
+
+“But Peeves couldn’t — ” 
+
+“I know he couldn’t, Filch!” Snape snapped again. “I 
+seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could 
+break!” Snape looked up the stairs, straight through 
+Harry, and then down into the corridor below. “I want 
+you to come and help me search for the intruder, 
+Filch.” 
+
+“I — yes, Professor — but — ” 
+
+Filch looked yearningly up the stairs, right through 
+Harry, who could see that he was very reluctant to 
+forgo the chance of cornering Peeves. Go, Harry 
+pleaded with him silently, go with Snape ... go ... Mrs. 
+Norris was peering around Filch ’s legs. ... Harry had 
+the distinct impression that she could smell him. ... 
+Why had he filled that bath with so much perfumed 
+foam? 
+
+“The thing is, Professor,” said Filch plaintively, “the 
+headmaster will have to listen to me this time. Peeves 
+has been stealing from a student, it might be my 
+chance to get him thrown out of the castle once and 
+for all — ” 
+
+“Filch, I don’t give a damn about that wretched 
+poltergeist; it’s my office that’s — ” 
+
+Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. 
+
+Snape stopped talking very abruptly. He and Filch 
+both looked down at the foot of the stairs. Harry saw 
+
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+
+
+
+
+Mad-Eye Moody limp into sight through the narrow 
+gap between their heads. Moody was wearing his old 
+traveling cloak over his nightshirt and leaning on his 
+staff as usual. 
+
+“Pajama party, is it?” he growled up the stairs. 
+
+“Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor,” said 
+Filch at once. “Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things 
+around as usual — and then Professor Snape 
+discovered that someone had broken into his off — ” 
+
+“Shut up!” Snape hissed to Filch. 
+
+Moody took a step closer to the foot of the stairs. 
+
+Harry saw Moody’s magical eye travel over Snape, and 
+then, unmistakably, onto himself. 
+
+Harry’s heart gave a horrible jolt. Moody could see 
+through Invisibility Cloaks ... he alone could see the 
+full strangeness of the scene: Snape in his nightshirt, 
+Filch clutching the egg, and he, Harry, trapped in the 
+stairs behind them. Moody’s lopsided gash of a mouth 
+opened in surprise. For a few seconds, he and Harry 
+stared straight into each other’s eyes. Then Moody 
+closed his mouth and turned his blue eye upon Snape 
+again. 
+
+“Did I hear that correctly, Snape?” he asked slowly. 
+“Someone broke into your office?” 
+
+“It is unimportant,” said Snape coldly. 
+
+“On the contrary,” growled Moody, “it is very 
+important. Who’d want to break into your office?” 
+
+“A student, I daresay,” said Snape. Harry could see a 
+vein flickering horribly on Snape ’s greasy temple. “It 
+has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone 
+
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+missing from my private store cupboard ... students 
+attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt. ...” 
+
+“Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?” said 
+Moody. “Not hiding anything else in your office, are 
+you?” 
+
+Harry saw the edge of Snape ’s sallow face turn a 
+nasty brick color, the vein in his temple pulsing more 
+rapidly. 
+
+“You know I’m hiding nothing, Moody,” he said in a 
+soft and dangerous voice, “as you’ve searched my 
+office pretty thoroughly yourself.” 
+
+Moody’s face twisted into a smile. “Auror’s privilege, 
+Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye — ” 
+
+“Dumbledore happens to trust me,” said Snape 
+through clenched teeth. “I refuse to believe that he 
+gave you orders to search my office!” 
+
+“ ’Course Dumbledore trusts you,” growled Moody. 
+“He’s a trusting man, isn’t he? Believes in second 
+chances. But me — I say there are spots that don’t 
+come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d’you 
+know what I mean?” 
+
+Snape suddenly did something very strange. He 
+seized his left forearm convulsively with his right 
+hand, as though something on it had hurt him. 
+
+Moody laughed. “Get back to bed, Snape.” 
+
+“You don’t have the authority to send me anywhere!” 
+Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as though angry 
+with himself. “I have as much right to prowl this 
+school after dark as you do!” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Prowl away,” said Moody, but his voice was full of 
+menace. “I look forward to meeting you in a dark 
+corridor some time. ... You’ve dropped something, by 
+the way. ...” 
+
+With a stab of horror, Harry saw Moody point at the 
+Marauder’s Map, still lying on the staircase six steps 
+below him. As Snape and Filch both turned to look at 
+it, Harry threw caution to the winds; he raised his 
+arms under the cloak and waved furiously at Moody 
+to attract his attention, mouthing “It’s mine! Mine!” 
+
+Snape had reached out for it, a horrible expression of 
+dawning comprehension on his face — 
+
+“Accio Parchments 
+
+The map flew up into the air, slipped through Snape ’s 
+outstretched fingers, and soared down the stairs into 
+Moody’s hand. 
+
+“My mistake,” Moody said calmly. “It’s mine — 
+must’ve dropped it earlier — ” 
+
+But Snape ’s black eyes were darting from the egg in 
+Filch’s arms to the map in Moody’s hand, and Harry 
+could tell he was putting two and two together, as 
+only Snape could. ... 
+
+“Potter,” he said quietly. 
+
+“What’s that?” said Moody calmly, folding up the map 
+and pocketing it. 
+
+“Potter!” Snape snarled, and he actually turned his 
+head and stared right at the place where Harry was, 
+as though he could suddenly see him. “That egg is 
+Potter’s egg. That piece of parchment belongs to 
+
+
+
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+Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is 
+here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!” 
+
+Snape stretched out his hands like a blind man and 
+began to move up the stairs; Harry could have sworn 
+his over-large nostrils were dilating, trying to sniff 
+Harry out — trapped, Harry leaned backward, trying 
+to avoid Snape’s fingertips, but any moment now — 
+
+“There’s nothing there, Snape!” barked Moody, “but 
+I’ll be happy to tell the headmaster how quickly your 
+mind jumped to Harry Potter!” 
+
+“Meaning what?” Snape turned again to look at 
+Moody, his hands still outstretched, inches from 
+Harry’s chest. 
+
+“Meaning that Dumbledore’s very interested to know 
+who’s got it in for that boy!” said Moody, limping 
+nearer still to the foot of the stairs. “And so am I, 
+Snape ... very interested. ...” The torchlight flickered 
+across his mangled face, so that the scars, and the 
+chunk missing from his nose, looked deeper and 
+darker than ever. 
+
+Snape was looking down at Moody, and Harry 
+couldn’t see the expression on his face. For a 
+moment, nobody moved or said anything. Then Snape 
+slowly lowered his hands. 
+
+“I merely thought,” said Snape, in a voice of forced 
+calm, “that if Potter was wandering around after 
+hours again ... it’s an unfortunate habit of his ... he 
+should be stopped. For — for his own safety.” 
+
+“Ah, I see,” said Moody softly. “Got Potter’s best 
+interests at heart, have you?” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+There was a pause. Snape and Moody were still 
+staring at each other. Mrs. Norris gave a loud meow, 
+still peering around Filch’s legs, looking for the source 
+of Harry’s bubble-bath smell. 
+
+“I think I will go back to bed,” Snape said curtly. 
+
+“Best idea you’ve had all night,” said Moody. “Now, 
+Filch, if you’ll just give me that egg — ” 
+
+“No!” said Filch, clutching the egg as though it were 
+his firstborn son. “Professor Moody, this is evidence of 
+Peeves’ treachery!” 
+
+“It’s the property of the champion he stole it from,” 
+said Moody. “Hand it over, now.” 
+
+Snape swept downstairs and passed Moody without 
+another word. Filch made a chirruping noise to Mrs. 
+Norris, who stared blankly at Harry for a few more 
+seconds before turning and following her master. Still 
+breathing very fast, Harry heard Snape walking away 
+down the corridor; Filch handed Moody the egg and 
+disappeared from view too, muttering to Mrs. Norris. 
+“Never mind, my sweet ... we’ll see Dumbledore in the 
+morning ... tell him what Peeves was up to. ...” 
+
+A door slammed. Harry was left staring down at 
+Moody, who placed his staff on the bottommost stair 
+and started to climb laboriously toward him, a dull 
+clunk on every other step. 
+
+“Close shave, Potter,” he muttered. 
+
+“Yeah ... I — er ... thanks,” said Harry weakly. 
+
+“What is this thing?” said Moody, drawing the 
+Marauders Map out of his pocket and unfolding it. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Map of Hogwarts,” said Harry, hoping Moody was 
+going to pull him out of the staircase soon; his leg 
+was really hurting him. 
+
+“Merlin’s beard,” Moody whispered, staring at the 
+map, his magical eye going haywire. “This ... this is 
+some map, Potter!” 
+
+“Yeah, it’s ... quite useful,” Harry said. His eyes were 
+starting to water from the pain. “Er — Professor 
+Moody, d’you think you could help me — ?” 
+
+“What? Oh! Yes ... yes, of course ...” 
+
+Moody took hold of Harry’s arms and pulled; Harry’s 
+leg came free of the trick step, and he climbed onto 
+the one above it. Moody was still gazing at the map. 
+
+“Potter ...” he said slowly, “you didn’t happen, by any 
+chance, to see who broke into Snape’s office, did you? 
+On this map, I mean?” 
+
+“Er ... yeah, I did ...” Harry admitted. “It was Mr. 
+Crouch.” 
+
+Moody’s magical eye whizzed over the entire surface of 
+the map. He looked suddenly alarmed. 
+
+“Crouch?” he said. “You’re — you’re sure, Potter?” 
+
+“Positive,” said Harry. 
+
+“Well, he’s not here anymore,” said Moody, his eye 
+still whizzing over the map. “Crouch ... that’s very — 
+very interesting. ...” 
+
+He said nothing for almost a minute, still staring at 
+the map. Harry could tell that this news meant 
+something to Moody and very much wanted to know 
+
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+what it was. He wondered whether he dared ask. 
+Moody scared him slightly ... yet Moody had just 
+helped him avoid an awful lot of trouble. ... 
+
+“Er ... Professor Moody ... why d’you reckon Mr. 
+Crouch wanted to look around S nape’s office?” 
+
+Moody’s magical eye left the map and fixed, quivering, 
+upon Harry. It was a penetrating glare, and Harry had 
+the impression that Moody was sizing him up, 
+wondering whether to answer or not, or how much to 
+tell him. 
+
+“Put it this way, Potter,” Moody muttered finally, “they 
+say old Mad-Eye’s obsessed with catching Dark 
+wizards ... but I’m nothing — nothing — compared to 
+Barty Crouch.” 
+
+He continued to stare at the map. Harry was burning 
+to know more. 
+
+“Professor Moody?” he said again. “D’you think ... 
+could this have anything to do with . . . maybe Mr. 
+Crouch thinks there’s something going on. ...” 
+
+“Like what?” said Moody sharply. 
+
+Harry wondered how much he dare say. He didn’t 
+want Moody to guess that he had a source of 
+information outside Hogwarts; that might lead to 
+tricky questions about Sirius. 
+
+“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, “odd stuff’s been 
+happening lately, hasn’t it? It’s been in the Daily 
+Prophet ... the Dark Mark at the World Cup, and the 
+Death Eaters and everything. ...” 
+
+Both of Moody’s mismatched eyes widened. 
+
+
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+
+“You’re a sharp boy, Potter,” he said. His magical eye 
+roved back to the Marauder’s Map. “Crouch could be 
+thinking along those lines,” he said slowly. “Very 
+possible ... there have been some funny rumors flying 
+around lately — helped along by Rita Skeeter, of 
+course. It’s making a lot of people nervous, I reckon.” 
+
+A grim smile twisted his lopsided mouth. “Oh if 
+there’s one thing I hate,” he muttered, more to himself 
+than to Harry, and his magical eye was fixed on the 
+left-hand corner of the map, “it’s a Death Eater who 
+walked free. ...” 
+
+Harry stared at him. Could Moody possibly mean 
+what Harry thought he meant? 
+
+“And now I want to ask you a question, Potter,” said 
+Moody in a more businesslike tone. 
+
+Harry’s heart sank; he had thought this was coming. 
+Moody was going to ask where he had got this map, 
+which was a very dubious magical object — and the 
+story of how it had fallen into his hands incriminated 
+not only him, but his own father, Fred and George 
+Weasley, and Professor Lupin, their last Defense 
+Against the Dark Arts teacher. Moody waved the map 
+in front of Harry, who braced himself — 
+
+“Can I borrow this?” 
+
+“Oh!” said Harry. 
+
+He was very fond of his map, but on the other hand, 
+he was extremely relieved that Moody wasn’t asking 
+where he’d got it, and there was no doubt that he 
+owed Moody a favor. 
+
+“Yeah, okay.” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Good boy,” growled Moody. “I can make good use of 
+this ... this might be exactly what I’ve been looking 
+for. ... Right, bed, Potter, come on, now. ...” 
+
+They climbed to the top of the stairs together, Moody 
+still examining the map as though it was a treasure 
+the like of which he had never seen before. They 
+walked in silence to the door of Moody’s office, where 
+he stopped and looked up at Harry. 
+
+“You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Potter?” 
+
+“No,” said Harry, taken aback. 
+
+“You want to consider it,” said Moody, nodding and 
+looking at Harry thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed ... and 
+incidentally ... I’m guessing you weren’t just taking 
+that egg for a walk tonight?” 
+
+“Er — no,” said Harry, grinning. “I’ve been working 
+out the clue.” 
+
+Moody winked at him, his magical eye going haywire 
+again. 
+
+“Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas, 
+Potter. ... See you in the morning. ...” 
+
+He went back into his office, staring down at the 
+Marauder’s Map again, and closed the door behind 
+him. 
+
+Harry walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, lost in 
+thought about Snape, and Crouch, and what it all 
+meant. ... Why was Crouch pretending to be ill, if he 
+could manage to get to Hogwarts when he wanted to? 
+What did he think Snape was concealing in his office? 
+
+
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+And Moody thought he, Harry, ought to be an Auror! 
+Interesting idea . . . but somehow, Harry thought, as 
+he got quietly into his four-poster ten minutes later, 
+the egg and the cloak now safely back in his trunk, he 
+thought he’d like to check how scarred the rest of 
+them were before he chose it as a career. 
+
+
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+
+
+THE SECOND TASK 
+
+“You said you’d already worked out that egg clue!” 
+said Hermione indignantly. 
+
+“Keep your voice down!” said Harry crossly. “I just 
+need to — sort of fine-tune it, all right?” 
+
+He, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at the very back 
+of the Charms class with a table to themselves. They 
+were supposed to be practicing the opposite of the 
+Summoning Charm today — the Banishing Charm. 
+Owing to the potential for nasty accidents when 
+objects kept flying across the room, Professor Flitwick 
+had given each student a stack of cushions on which 
+to practice, the theory being that these wouldn’t hurt 
+anyone if they went off target. It was a good theory, 
+but it wasn’t working very well. Neville’s aim was so 
+poor that he kept accidentally sending much heavier 
+things flying across the room — Professor Flitwick, for 
+instance. 
+
+“Just forget the egg for a minute, all right?” Harry 
+hissed as Professor Flitwick went whizzing resignedly 
+
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+
+past them, landing on top of a large cabinet. “I’m 
+trying to tell you about Snape and Moody. ...” 
+
+This class was an ideal cover for a private 
+conversation, as everyone was having far too much 
+fun to pay them any attention. Harry had been 
+recounting his adventures of the previous night in 
+whispered installments for the last half hour. 
+
+“Snape said Moody’s searched his office as well?” Ron 
+whispered, his eyes alight with interest as he 
+Banished a cushion with a sweep of his wand (it 
+soared into the air and knocked Parvati’s hat off). 
+“What ... d’you reckon Moody’s here to keep an eye on 
+Snape as well as Karkaroff?” 
+
+“Well, I dunno if that’s what Dumbledore asked him 
+to do, but he’s definitely doing it,” said Harry, waving 
+his wand without paying much attention, so that his 
+cushion did an odd sort of belly flop off the desk. 
+“Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here 
+because he’s giving him a second chance or 
+something. ...” 
+
+“What?” said Ron, his eyes widening, his next cushion 
+spinning high into the air, ricocheting off the 
+chandelier, and dropping heavily onto Flitwick’s desk. 
+“Harry . . . maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name 
+in the Goblet of Fire!” 
+
+“Oh Ron,” said Hermione, shaking her head 
+sceptically, “we thought Snape was trying to kill 
+Harry before, and it turned out he was saving Harry’s 
+life, remember?” 
+
+She Banished a cushion and it flew across the room 
+and landed in the box they were all supposed to be 
+aiming at. Harry looked at Hermione, thinking ... it 
+was true that Snape had saved his life once, but the 
+
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+
+odd thing was, Snape definitely loathed him, just as 
+he’d loathed Harry’s father when they had been at 
+school together. Snape loved taking points from 
+Harry, and had certainly never missed an opportunity 
+to give him punishments, or even to suggest that he 
+should be suspended from the school. 
+
+“I don’t care what Moody says,” Hermione went on. 
+“Dumbledore’s not stupid. He was right to trust 
+Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of 
+people wouldn’t have given them jobs, so why 
+shouldn’t he be right about Snape, even if Snape is a 
+bit — ” 
+
+
+
+“ — evil,” said Ron promptly. “Come on, Hermione, 
+why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his 
+office, then?” 
+
+“Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?” said 
+Hermione, ignoring Ron. “It’s a bit funny, isn’t it, that 
+he can’t manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can 
+get up here in the middle of the night when he wants 
+to?” 
+
+“You just don’t like Crouch because of that elf, 
+Winky,” said Ron, sending a cushion soaring into the 
+window. 
+
+“You just want to think Snape’s up to something,” 
+said Hermione, sending her cushion zooming neatly 
+into the box. 
+
+“I just want to know what Snape did with his first 
+chance, if he’s on his second one,” said Harry grimly, 
+and his cushion, to his very great surprise, flew 
+straight across the room and landed neatly on top of 
+Hermione ’s. 
+
+
+
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+Obedient to Sirius’s wish of hearing about anything 
+odd at Hogwarts, Harry sent him a letter by brown 
+owl that night, explaining all about Mr. Crouch 
+breaking into Snape’s office, and Moody and Snape’s 
+conversation. Then Harry turned his attention in 
+earnest to the most urgent problem facing him: how 
+to survive underwater for an hour on the twenty- 
+fourth of February. 
+
+Ron quite liked the idea of using the Summoning 
+Charm again — Harry had explained about Aqua- 
+Lungs, and Ron couldn’t see why Harry shouldn’t 
+Summon one from the nearest Muggle town. 
+
+Hermione squashed this plan by pointing out that, in 
+the unlikely event that Harry managed to learn how 
+to operate an Aqua-Lung within the set limit of an 
+hour, he was sure to be disqualified for breaking the 
+International Code of Wizarding Secrecy — it was too 
+much to hope that no Muggles would spot an Aqua- 
+Lung zooming across the countryside to Hogwarts. 
+
+“Of course, the ideal solution would be for you to 
+Transfigure yourself into a submarine or something,” 
+Hermione said. “If only we’d done human 
+Transfiguration already! But I don’t think we start 
+that until sixth year, and it can go badly wrong if you 
+don’t know what you’re doing. ...” 
+
+“Yeah, I don’t fancy walking around with a periscope 
+sticking out of my head,” said Harry. “I s’pose I could 
+always attack someone in front of Moody; he might do 
+it for me. ...” 
+
+“I don’t think he’d let you choose what you wanted to 
+be turned into, though,” said Hermione seriously. 
+
+“No, I think your best chance is some sort of charm.” 
+
+So Harry, thinking that he would soon have had 
+enough of the library to last him a lifetime, buried 
+
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+
+himself once more among the dusty volumes, looking 
+for any spell that might enable a human to survive 
+without oxygen. However, though he, Ron, and 
+Hermione searched through their lunchtimes, 
+evenings, and whole weekends — though Harry asked 
+Professor McGonagall for a note of permission to use 
+the Restricted Section, and even asked the irritable, 
+vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, for help — they 
+found nothing whatsoever that would enable Harry to 
+spend an hour underwater and live to tell the tale. 
+
+Familiar flutterings of panic were starting to disturb 
+Harry now, and he was finding it difficult to 
+concentrate in class again. The lake, which Harry had 
+always taken for granted as just another feature of 
+the grounds, drew his eyes whenever he was near a 
+classroom window, a great, iron-gray mass of chilly 
+water, whose dark and icy depths were starting to 
+seem as distant as the moon. 
+
+Just as it had before he faced the Horntail, time was 
+slipping away as though somebody had bewitched the 
+clocks to go extra-fast. There was a week to go before 
+February the twenty-fourth (there was still time) ... 
+there were five days to go (he was bound to find 
+something soon) ... three days to go (please let me find 
+something . . . please) . . . 
+
+With two days left, Harry started to go off food again. 
+The only good thing about breakfast on Monday was 
+the return of the brown owl he had sent to Sirius. He 
+pulled off the parchment, unrolled it, and saw the 
+shortest letter Sirius had ever written to him. 
+
+Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl. 
+
+Harry turned the parchment over and looked at the 
+back, hoping to see something else, but it was blank. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Weekend after next,” whispered Hermione, who had 
+read the note over Harry’s shoulder. “Here — take my 
+quill and send this owl back straight away.” 
+
+Harry scribbled the dates down on the back of 
+Sirius’s letter, tied it onto the brown owl’s leg, and 
+watched it take flight again. What had he expected? 
+Advice on how to survive underwater? He had been so 
+intent on telling Sirius all about Snape and Moody he 
+had completely forgotten to mention the egg’s clue. 
+
+“What’s he want to know about the next Hogsmeade 
+weekend for?” said Ron. 
+
+“Dunno,” said Harry dully. The momentary happiness 
+that had flared inside him at the sight of the owl had 
+died. “Come on ... Care of Magical Creatures.” 
+
+Whether Hagrid was trying to make up for the Blast- 
+Ended Skrewts, or because there were now only two 
+skrewts left, or because he was trying to prove he 
+could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank 
+could, Harry didn’t know, but Hagrid had been 
+continuing her lessons on unicorns ever since he’d 
+returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew 
+quite as much about unicorns as he did about 
+monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack 
+of poisonous fangs disappointing. 
+
+Today he had managed to capture two unicorn foals. 
+Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold. 
+Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight 
+at the sight of them, and even Pansy Parkinson had 
+to work hard to conceal how much she liked them. 
+
+“Easier ter spot than the adults,” Hagrid told the 
+class. “They turn silver when they’re abou’ two years 
+old, an’ they grow horns at aroun’ four. Don’ go pure 
+white till they’re full grown, ’round about seven. 
+
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+
+They’re a bit more trustin’ when they’re babies ... don’ 
+mind boys so much. ... C’mon, move in a bit, yeh can 
+pat ’em if yeh want ... give ’em a few o’ these sugar 
+lumps. ... 
+
+“You okay, Harry?” Hagrid muttered, moving aside 
+slightly, while most of the others swarmed around the 
+baby unicorns. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry. 
+
+“Jus’ nervous, eh?” said Hagrid. 
+
+“Bit,” said Harry. 
+
+“Harry,” said Hagrid, clapping a massive hand on his 
+shoulder, so that Harry’s knees buckled under its 
+weight, “I’d’ve bin worried before I saw yeh take on 
+tha’ Horntail, but I know now yeh can do anythin’ yeh 
+set yer mind ter. I’m not worried at all. Yeh’re goin’ ter 
+be fine. Got yer clue worked out, haven’ yeh?” 
+
+Harry nodded, but even as he did so, an insane urge 
+to confess that he didn’t have any idea how to survive 
+at the bottom of the lake for an hour came over him. 
+He looked up at Hagrid — perhaps he had to go into 
+the lake sometimes, to deal with the creatures in it? 
+He looked after everything else on the grounds, after 
+all — 
+
+“Yeh’re goin’ ter win,” Hagrid growled, patting Harry’s 
+shoulder again, so that Harry actually felt himself 
+sink a couple of inches into the soft ground. “I know 
+it. I can feel it. Yeh’re goin’ ter win, Harry.” 
+
+Harry just couldn’t bring himself to wipe the happy, 
+confident smile off Hagrid ’s face. Pretending he was 
+interested in the young unicorns, he forced a smile in 
+
+
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+return, and moved forward to pat them with the 
+others. 
+
+
+
+By the evening before the second task, Harry felt as 
+though he were trapped in a nightmare. He was fully 
+aware that even if, by some miracle, he managed to 
+find a suitable spell, he’d have a real job mastering it 
+overnight. How could he have let this happen? Why 
+hadn’t he got to work on the egg’s clue sooner? Why 
+had he ever let his mind wander in class — what if a 
+teacher had once mentioned how to breathe 
+underwater? 
+
+He sat with Hermione and Ron in the library as the 
+sun set outside, tearing feverishly through page after 
+page of spells, hidden from one another by the 
+massive piles of books on the desk in front of each of 
+them. Harry’s heart gave a huge leap every time he 
+saw the word “water” on a page, but more often than 
+not it was merely “Take two pints of water, half a 
+pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt ...” 
+
+“I don’t reckon it can be done,” said Ron’s voice flatly 
+from the other side of the table. “There’s nothing. 
+Nothing. Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and 
+ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere 
+near powerful enough to drain the lake.” 
+
+“There must be something,” Hermione muttered, 
+moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired 
+she was poring over the tiny print of Olde and 
+Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes with her nose 
+about an inch from the page. “They’d never have set a 
+task that was undoable.” 
+
+“They have,” said Ron. “Harry, just go down to the 
+lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the 
+merpeople to give back whatever they’ve nicked, and 
+see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate.” 
+
+Page | 537 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+“There’s a way of doing it!” Hermione said crossly. 
+“There just has to be!” 
+
+She seemed to be taking the library’s lack of useful 
+information on the subject as a personal insult; it had 
+never failed her before. 
+
+“I know what I should have done,” said Harry, resting, 
+facedown, on Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts. “I 
+should’ve learned to be an Animagus like Sirius.” 
+
+An Animagus was a wizard who could transform into 
+an animal. 
+
+“Yeah, you could’ve turned into a goldfish any time 
+you wanted!” said Ron. 
+
+“Or a frog,” yawned Harry. He was exhausted. 
+
+“It takes years to become an Animagus, and then you 
+have to register yourself and everything,” said 
+Hermione vaguely, now squinting down the index of 
+Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions. 
+“Professor McGonagall told us, remember ... you’ve 
+got to register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic 
+Office ... what animal you become, and your 
+markings, so you can’t abuse it. ...” 
+
+“Hermione, I was joking,” said Harry wearily. “I know I 
+haven’t got a chance of turning into a frog by 
+tomorrow morning. ...” 
+
+“Oh this is no use,” Hermione said, snapping shut 
+Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. “Who on earth wants to 
+make their nose hair grow into ringlets?” 
+
+“I wouldn’t mind,” said Fred Weasley’s voice. “Be a 
+talking point, wouldn’t it?” 
+
+
+
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+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. Fred and 
+George had just emerged from behind some 
+bookshelves. 
+
+“What’re you two doing here?” Ron asked. 
+
+“Looking for you,” said George. “McGonagall wants 
+you, Ron. And you, Hermione.” 
+
+“Why?” said Hermione, looking surprised. 
+
+“Dunno ... she was looking a bit grim, though,” said 
+Fred. 
+
+“We’re supposed to take you down to her office,” said 
+George. 
+
+Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, who felt his 
+stomach drop. Was Professor McGonagall about to tell 
+Ron and Hermione off? Perhaps she’d noticed how 
+much they were helping him, when he ought to be 
+working out how to do the task alone? 
+
+“Well meet you back in the common room,” Hermione 
+told Harry as she got up to go with Ron — both of 
+them looked very anxious. “Bring as many of these 
+books as you can, okay?” 
+
+“Right,” said Harry uneasily. 
+
+By eight o’clock, Madam Pince had extinguished all 
+the lamps and came to chivvy Harry out of the library. 
+Staggering under the weight of as many books as he 
+could carry, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common 
+room, pulled a table into a corner, and continued to 
+search. There was nothing in Madcap Magic for 
+Wacky Warlocks . . . nothing in A Guide to Medieval 
+Sorcery . . . not one mention of underwater exploits in 
+An Anthology of Eighteenth-Century Charms, or in 
+Page | 539 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Dreadful Denizens of the Deep, or Powers You Never 
+Knew You Had and What to Do with Them Now You’ve 
+Wised Up. 
+
+Crookshanks crawled into Harry’s lap and curled up, 
+purring deeply. The common room emptied slowly 
+around Harry. People kept wishing him luck for the 
+next morning in cheery, confident voices like Hagrid’s, 
+all of them apparently convinced that he was about to 
+pull off another stunning performance like the one he 
+had managed in the first task. Harry couldn’t answer 
+them, he just nodded, feeling as though there were a 
+golfball stuck in his throat. By ten to midnight, he 
+was alone in the room with Crookshanks. He had 
+searched all the remaining books, and Ron and 
+Hermione had not come back. 
+
+It’s over, he told himself. You can’t do it. You’ll just 
+have to go down to the lake in the morning and tell 
+the judges. ... 
+
+He imagined himself explaining that he couldn’t do 
+the task. He pictured Bagman’s look of round-eyed 
+surprise, Karkaroff’s satisfied, yellow-toothed smile. 
+
+He could almost hear Fleur Delacour saying “I knew it 
+... ’e is too young, ’e is only a little boy.” He saw Malfoy 
+flashing his POTTER STINKS badge at the front of the 
+crowd, saw Hagrid’s crestfallen, disbelieving face. ... 
+
+Forgetting that Crookshanks was on his lap, Harry 
+stood up very suddenly; Crookshanks hissed angrily 
+as he landed on the floor, gave Harry a disgusted 
+look, and stalked away with his bottlebrush tail in the 
+air, but Harry was already hurrying up the spiral 
+staircase to his dormitory. . . . He would grab the 
+Invisibility Cloak and go back to the library, he’d stay 
+there all night if he had to. ... 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“Lumos,” Harry whispered fifteen minutes later as he 
+opened the library door. 
+
+Wand tip alight, he crept along the bookshelves, 
+pulling down more books — books of hexes and 
+charms, books on merpeople and water monsters, 
+books on famous witches and wizards, on magical 
+inventions, on anything at all that might include one 
+passing reference to underwater survival. He carried 
+them over to a table, then set to work, searching them 
+by the narrow beam of his wand, occasionally 
+checking his watch. ... 
+
+One in the morning . . . two in the morning . . . the only 
+way he could keep going was to tell himself, over and 
+over again, next book ...in the next one . . . the next one 
+
+
+
+The mermaid in the painting in the prefects’ 
+bathroom was laughing. Harry was bobbing like a 
+cork in bubbly water next to her rock, while she held 
+his Firebolt over his head. 
+
+“Come and get it!” she giggled maliciously. “Come on, 
+jump!” 
+
+“I can’t,” Harry panted, snatching at the Firebolt, and 
+struggling not to sink. “Give it to me!” 
+
+But she just poked him painfully in the side with the 
+end of the broomstick, laughing at him. 
+
+“That hurts — get off — ouch — ” 
+
+“Harry Potter must wake up, sir!” 
+
+“Stop poking me — ” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“Dobby must poke Harry Potter, sir, he must wake 
+up!” 
+
+Harry opened his eyes. He was still in the library; the 
+Invisibility Cloak had slipped off his head as he’d 
+slept, and the side of his face was stuck to the pages 
+of Where There’s a Wand, There’s a Way. He sat up, 
+straightening his glasses, blinking in the bright 
+daylight. 
+
+“Harry Potter needs to hurry!” squeaked Dobby. “The 
+second task starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter 
+
+
+
+“Ten minutes?” Harry croaked. “Ten — ten minutes?” 
+
+He looked down at his watch. Dobby was right. It was 
+twenty past nine. A large, dead weight seemed to fall 
+through Harry’s chest into his stomach. 
+
+“Hurry, Harry Potter!” squeaked Dobby, plucking at 
+Harry’s sleeve. “You is supposed to be down by the 
+lake with the other champions, sir!” 
+
+“It’s too late, Dobby,” Harry said hopelessly. “I’m not 
+doing the task, I don’t know how — ” 
+
+“Harry Potter will do the task!” squeaked the elf. 
+“Dobby knew Harry had not found the right book, so 
+Dobby did it for him!” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. “But you don’t know what the 
+second task is — ” 
+
+“Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the 
+lake and find his Wheezy — ” 
+
+“Find my what?” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“ — and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!” 
+
+
+
+“What’s a Wheezy?” 
+
+“Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy — Wheezy who is 
+giving Dobby his sweater!” 
+
+Dobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he 
+was now wearing over his shorts. 
+
+“What?” Harry gasped. “They’ve got ... they’ve got 
+Ron?” 
+
+“The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!” squeaked 
+Dobby. “ ‘But past an hour — ’ ” 
+
+“ — ‘the prospect’s black,’ ” Harry recited, staring, 
+horror-struck, at the elf. “ ‘Too late, it’s gone, it won’t 
+come back.’ Dobby — what’ve I got to do?” 
+
+“You has to eat this, sir!” squeaked the elf, and he put 
+his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a 
+ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails. 
+“Right before you go into the lake, sir — gillyweed!” 
+
+“What’s it do?” said Harry, staring at the gillyweed. 
+
+“It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!” 
+
+“Dobby,” said Harry frantically, “listen — are you sure 
+about this?” 
+
+He couldn’t quite forget that the last time Dobby had 
+tried to “help” him, he had ended up with no bones in 
+his right arm. 
+
+“Dobby is quite sure, sir!” said the elf earnestly. 
+“Dobby hears things, sir, he is a house-elf, he goes all 
+over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the 
+
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+
+
+
+
+floors. Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and 
+Professor Moody in the staffroom, talking about the 
+next task. . . . Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his 
+Wheezy!” 
+
+Harry’s doubts vanished. Jumping to his feet he 
+pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffed it into his bag, 
+grabbed the gillyweed, and put it into his pocket, then 
+tore out of the library with Dobby at his heels. 
+
+“Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!” Dobby 
+squealed as they burst into the corridor. “Dobby will 
+be missed — good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!” 
+
+“See you later, Dobby!” Harry shouted, and he 
+sprinted along the corridor and down the stairs, three 
+at a time. 
+
+The entrance hall contained a few last-minute 
+stragglers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast 
+and heading through the double oak doors to watch 
+the second task. They stared as Harry flashed past, 
+sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as he leapt 
+down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly 
+grounds. 
+
+As he pounded down the lawn he saw that the seats 
+that had encircled the dragons’ enclosure in 
+November were now ranged along the opposite bank, 
+rising in stands that were packed to the bursting 
+point and reflected in the lake below. The excited 
+babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water 
+as Harry ran flat-out around the other side of the lake 
+toward the judges, who were sitting at another gold- 
+draped table at the water’s edge. Cedric, Fleur, and 
+Krum were beside the judges’ table, watching Harry 
+sprint toward them. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+‘Tm ... here ...” Harry panted, skidding to a halt in 
+the mud and accidentally splattering Fleur’s robes. 
+
+“Where have you been?” said a bossy, disapproving 
+voice. “The task’s about to start!” 
+
+Harry looked around. Percy Weasley was sitting at the 
+judges’ table — Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up 
+again. 
+
+“Now, now, Percy!” said Ludo Bagman, who was 
+looking intensely relieved to see Harry. “Let him catch 
+his breath!” 
+
+Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and 
+Madame Maxime didn’t look at all pleased to see him. 
+... It was obvious from the looks on their faces that 
+they had thought he wasn’t going to turn up. 
+
+Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for 
+breath; he had a stitch in his side that felt as though 
+he had a knife between his ribs, but there was no 
+time to get rid of it; Ludo Bagman was now moving 
+among the champions, spacing them along the bank 
+at intervals of ten feet. Harry was on the very end of 
+the line, next to Krum, who was wearing swimming 
+trunks and was holding his wand ready. 
+
+“All right, Harry?” Bagman whispered as he moved 
+Harry a few feet farther away from Krum. “Know what 
+you’re going to do?” 
+
+“Yeah,” Harry panted, massaging his ribs. 
+
+Bagman gave Harry’s shoulder a quick squeeze and 
+returned to the judges’ table; he pointed his wand at 
+his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, 
+“Sonorusl” and his voice boomed out across the dark 
+water toward the stands. 
+
+Page | 545 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“Well, all our champions are ready for the second 
+task, which will start on my whistle. They have 
+precisely an hour to recover what has been taken 
+from them. On the count of three, then. One ... two ... 
+three!” 
+
+The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the 
+stands erupted with cheers and applause; without 
+looking to see what the other champions were doing, 
+Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled the 
+handful of gillyweed out of his pocket, stuffed it into 
+his mouth, and waded out into the lake. 
+
+It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as 
+though this were fire, not icy water. His sodden robes 
+weighed him down as he walked in deeper; now the 
+water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing 
+feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. He 
+was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he 
+could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like 
+octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he 
+stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to 
+happen. 
+
+He could hear laughter in the crowd and knew he 
+must look stupid, walking into the lake without 
+showing any sign of magical power. The part of him 
+that was still dry was covered in goose pimples; half 
+immersed in the icy water, a cruel breeze lifting his 
+hair, Harry started to shiver violently. He avoided 
+looking at the stands; the laughter was becoming 
+louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the 
+Slytherins. ... 
+
+Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt as though an 
+invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and 
+nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head 
+spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a 
+piercing pain on either side of his neck — 
+
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+
+Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt 
+two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold 
+air. ... He had gills. Without pausing to think, he did 
+the only thing that made sense — he flung himself 
+forward into the water. 
+
+The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of 
+life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another 
+great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through 
+his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He 
+stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at 
+them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, 
+and they had become webbed. He twisted around and 
+looked at his bare feet — they had become elongated 
+and the toes were webbed too: It looked as though he 
+had sprouted flippers. 
+
+The water didn’t feel icy anymore either ... on the 
+contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light. ... 
+Harry struck out once more, marveling at how far and 
+fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the 
+water, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how 
+he no longer seemed to need to blink. He had soon 
+swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see 
+the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths. 
+
+Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a 
+strange, dark, foggy landscape. He could only see ten 
+feet around him, so that as he sped through the water 
+new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the 
+oncoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black 
+weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, 
+glimmering stones. He swam deeper and deeper, out 
+toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring 
+through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the 
+shadows beyond, where the water became opaque. 
+
+Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or 
+twice he thought he saw something larger moving 
+
+Page | 547 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered 
+it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense 
+clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other 
+champions, merpeople, Ron — nor, thankfully, the 
+giant squid. 
+
+Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he 
+could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very 
+overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly 
+ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the 
+gloom . . . and then, without warning, something 
+grabbed hold of his ankle. 
+
+Harry twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a 
+small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, 
+its long fingers clutched tightly around Harry’s leg, its 
+pointed fangs bared — Harry stuck his webbed hand 
+quickly inside his robes and fumbled for his wand. By 
+the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had 
+risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of Harry’s 
+robes, and were attempting to drag him down. 
+
+“Relashio\” Harry shouted, except that no sound came 
+out. ... A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his 
+wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, 
+pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling 
+water, for where it struck them, angry red patches 
+appeared on their green skin. Harry pulled his ankle 
+out of the grindylows grip and swam, as fast as he 
+could, occasionally sending more jets of hot water 
+over his shoulder at random; every now and then he 
+felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, 
+and he kicked out, hard; finally, he felt his foot 
+connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw 
+the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while 
+its fellows shook their fists at Harry and sank back 
+into the weed. 
+
+
+
+Page | 548 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
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+
+
+Harry slowed down a little, slipped his wand back 
+inside his robes, and looked around, listening again. 
+He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing 
+harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he 
+must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was 
+moving but the rippling weed. 
+
+“How are you getting on?” 
+
+Harry thought he was having a heart attack. He 
+whipped around and saw Moaning Myrtle floating 
+hazily in front of him, gazing at him through her 
+thick, pearly glasses. 
+
+“Myrtle!” Harry tried to shout — but once again, 
+nothing came out of his mouth but a very large 
+bubble. Moaning Myrtle actually giggled. 
+
+“You want to try over there!” she said, pointing. “I 
+won’t come with you. ... I don’t like them much, they 
+always chase me when I get too close. ...” 
+
+Harry gave her the thumbs-up to show his thanks 
+and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher 
+over the weed to avoid any more grindylows that 
+might be lurking there. 
+
+He swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. 
+He was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, 
+which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. 
+Then, at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting 
+mersong. 
+
+“An hour long you’ll have to look, 
+
+And to recover what we took ...” 
+
+Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge 
+out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of 
+
+Page | 549 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and 
+chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam 
+on past the rock, following the mersong. 
+
+"... your time’s half gone, so tarry not 
+
+Lest what you seek stays here to rot. ...” 
+
+A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae 
+loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here 
+and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces ... 
+faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting 
+of the mermaid in the prefects’ bathroom. ... 
+
+The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark 
+green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their 
+broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles 
+around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam 
+past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to 
+watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails 
+beating the water, spears clutched in their hands. 
+
+Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the 
+dwellings became more numerous; there were 
+gardens of weed around some of them, and he even 
+saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. 
+Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching 
+him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, 
+talking behind their hands to one another. Harry sped 
+around a corner and a very strange sight met his 
+eyes. 
+
+A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of 
+the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version 
+of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing 
+in the middle, calling the champions toward them, 
+and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a 
+gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people 
+were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson. 
+Page | 550 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. 
+There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, 
+whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that 
+she was Fleur Delacour’s sister. All four of them 
+appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were 
+lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of 
+bubbles kept issuing from their mouths. 
+
+Harry sped toward the hostages, half expecting the 
+merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, 
+but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the 
+hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very 
+strong. For a fleeting second he thought of the knife 
+Sirius had bought him for Christmas — locked in his 
+trunk in the castle a quarter of a mile away, no use to 
+him whatsoever. 
+
+He looked around. Many of the merpeople 
+surrounding them were carrying spears. He swam 
+swiftly toward a seven-foot-tall merman with a long 
+green beard and a choker of shark fangs and tried to 
+mime a request to borrow the spear. The merman 
+laughed and shook his head. 
+
+“We do not help,” he said in a harsh, croaky voice. 
+
+“Come ON\” Harry said fiercely (but only bubbles 
+issued from his mouth), and he tried to pull the spear 
+away from the merman, but the merman yanked it 
+back, still shaking his head and laughing. 
+
+Harry swirled around, staring about. Something 
+sharp ... anything ... 
+
+There were rocks littering the lake bottom. He dived 
+and snatched up a particularly jagged one and 
+returned to the statue. He began to hack at the ropes 
+binding Ron, and after several minutes’ hard work, 
+they broke apart. Ron floated, unconscious, a few 
+Page | 551 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the 
+ebb of the water. 
+
+Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the 
+other champions. What were they playing at? Why 
+didn’t they hurry up? He turned back to Hermione, 
+raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at her 
+bindings too — 
+
+At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized 
+him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away 
+from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, 
+and laughing. 
+
+“You take your own hostage,” one of them said to 
+him. “Leave the others ...” 
+
+“No way!” said Harry furiously — but only two large 
+bubbles came out. 
+
+“Your task is to retrieve your own friend . . . leave the 
+others ...” 
+
+“She’s my friend too!” Harry yelled, gesturing toward 
+Hermione, an enormous silver bubble emerging 
+soundlessly from his lips. “And I don’t want them to 
+die either!” 
+
+Cho’s head was on Hermione ’s shoulder; the small 
+silver-haired girl was ghostly green and pale. Harry 
+struggled to fight off the mermen, but they laughed 
+harder than ever, holding him back. Harry looked 
+wildly around. Where were the other champions? 
+Would he have time to take Ron to the surface and 
+come back down for Hermione and the others? Would 
+he be able to find them again? He looked down at his 
+watch to see how much time was left — it had 
+stopped working. 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
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+
+
+But then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly 
+over his head. Harry looked up and saw Cedric 
+swimming toward them. There was an enormous 
+bubble around his head, which made his features 
+look oddly wide and stretched. 
+
+“Got lost!” he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. “Fleur 
+and Krum’re coming now!” 
+
+Feeling enormously relieved, Harry watched Cedric 
+pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He 
+pulled her upward and out of sight. 
+
+Harry looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and 
+Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the 
+song, the hostages would be lost after an hour. . . . 
+
+The merpeople started screeching animatedly. Those 
+holding Harry loosened their grip, staring behind 
+them. Harry turned and saw something monstrous 
+cutting through the water toward them: a human 
+body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark. . . . 
+It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured 
+himself — but badly. 
+
+The shark-man swam straight to Hermione and began 
+snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that 
+Krum’s new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for 
+biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and Harry 
+was quite sure that if Krum wasn’t careful, he was 
+going to rip Hermione in half. Darting forward, Harry 
+hit Krum hard on the shoulder and held up the 
+jagged stone. Krum seized it and began to cut 
+Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he 
+grabbed Hermione around the waist, and without a 
+backward glance, began to rise rapidly with her 
+toward the surface. 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
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+
+
+Now what? Harry thought desperately. If he could be 
+sure that Fleur was coming. ... But still no sign. 
+
+There was nothing to be done except . . . 
+
+He snatched up the stone, which Krum had dropped, 
+but the mermen now closed in around Ron and the 
+little girl, shaking their heads at him. Harry pulled 
+out his wand. 
+
+“Get out of the way!” 
+
+Only bubbles flew out of his mouth, but he had the 
+distinct impression that the mermen had understood 
+him, because they suddenly stopped laughing. Their 
+yellowish eyes were fixed upon Harry’s wand, and 
+they looked scared. There might be a lot more of them 
+than there were of him, but Harry could tell, by the 
+looks on their faces, that they knew no more magic 
+than the giant squid did. 
+
+“You’ve got until three!” Harry shouted; a great 
+stream of bubbles burst from him, but he held up 
+three fingers to make sure they got the message. “One 
+...” (he put down a finger) “two ...” (he put down a 
+second one) — 
+
+They scattered. Harry darted forward and began to 
+hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, 
+and at last she was free. He seized the little girl 
+around the waist, grabbed the neck of Ron’s robes, 
+and kicked off from the bottom. 
+
+It was very slow work. He could no longer use his 
+webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked 
+his flippers furiously, but Ron and Fleur’s sister were 
+like potato-filled sacks dragging him back down. ... 
+
+He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must 
+still be very deep, the water above him was so dark. 
+
+Page | 554 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+Merpeople were rising with him. He could see them 
+swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle 
+through the water. ... Would they pull him back down 
+to the depths when the time was up? Did they 
+perhaps eat humans? Harry’s legs were seizing up 
+with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were 
+aching horribly with the effort of dragging Ron and 
+the girl. ... 
+
+He was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He 
+could feel pain on the sides of his neck again ... he 
+was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in 
+his mouth . . . yet the darkness was definitely thinning 
+now ... he could see daylight above him. ... 
+
+He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that 
+they were nothing more than feet . . . water was 
+flooding through his mouth into his lungs ... he was 
+starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were 
+only ten feet above him ... he had to get there ... he 
+had to . . . 
+
+Harry kicked his legs so hard and fast it felt as 
+though his muscles were screaming in protest; his 
+very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn’t breathe, he 
+needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not 
+stop — 
+
+And then he felt his head break the surface of the 
+lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet 
+face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he 
+had never breathed properly before, and, panting, 
+pulled Ron and the little girl up with him. All around 
+him, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of 
+the water with him, but they were smiling at him. 
+
+The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of 
+noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be 
+on their feet; Harry had the impression they thought 
+
+Page | 555 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+that Ron and the little girl might be dead, but they 
+were wrong ... both of them had opened their eyes; 
+the girl looked scared and confused, but Ron merely 
+expelled a great spout of water, blinked in the bright 
+light, turned to Harry, and said, “Wet, this, isn’t it?” 
+Then he spotted Fleur’s sister. “What did you bring 
+her for?” 
+
+“Fleur didn’t turn up, I couldn’t leave her,” Harry 
+panted. 
+
+“Harry, you prat,” said Ron, “you didn’t take that song 
+thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn’t have 
+let any of us drown!” 
+
+“The song said — ” 
+
+“It was only to make sure you got back inside the time 
+limit!” said Ron. “I hope you didn’t waste time down 
+there acting the hero!” 
+
+Harry felt both stupid and annoyed. It was all very 
+well for Ron; he’d been asleep, he hadn’t felt how 
+eerie it was down in the lake, surrounded by spear- 
+carrying merpeople who’d looked more than capable 
+of murder. 
+
+“C’mon,” Harry said shortly, “help me with her, I don’t 
+think she can swim very well.” 
+
+They pulled Fleur’s sister through the water, back 
+toward the bank where the judges stood watching, 
+twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of 
+honor, singing their horrible screechy songs. 
+
+Harry could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over 
+Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were 
+wrapped in thick blankets. Dumbledore and Ludo 
+Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Ron from the 
+
+Page | 556 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+bank as they swam nearer, but Percy, who looked 
+very white and somehow much younger than usual, 
+came splashing out to meet them. Meanwhile 
+Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur 
+Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and 
+nail to return to the water. 
+
+“Gabrielle! Gabrielle\ Is she alive ? Is she ’urt?” 
+
+“She’s fine!” Harry tried to tell her, but he was so 
+exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout. 
+
+Percy seized Ron and was dragging him back to the 
+bank (“Gerroff, Percy, I’m all right!”); Dumbledore and 
+Bagman were pulling Harry upright; Fleur had broken 
+free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister. 
+
+“It was ze grindylows . . . zey attacked me ... oh 
+Gabrielle, I thought ... I thought ...” 
+
+“Come here, you,” said Madam Pomfrey. She seized 
+Harry and pulled him over to Hermione and the 
+others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket that he 
+felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a 
+measure of very hot potion down his throat. Steam 
+gushed out of his ears. 
+
+“Harry, well done!” Hermione cried. “You did it, you 
+found out how all by yourself!” 
+
+“Well — ” said Harry. He would have told her about 
+Dobby, but he had just noticed Karkaroff watching 
+him. He was the only judge who had not left the table; 
+the only judge not showing signs of pleasure and 
+relief that Harry, Ron, and Fleur’s sister had got back 
+safely. “Yeah, that’s right,” said Harry, raising his 
+voice slightly so that Karkaroff could hear him. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own- 
+ninny,” said Krum. Harry had the impression that 
+Krum was drawing her attention back onto himself; 
+perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her 
+from the lake, but Hermione brushed away the beetle 
+impatiently and said, “You’re well outside the time 
+limit, though, Harry. . . . Did it take you ages to find 
+us?” 
+
+“No ... I found you okay. ...” 
+
+Harry’s feeling of stupidity was growing. Now he was 
+out of the water, it seemed perfectly clear that 
+Dumbledore’s safety precautions wouldn’t have 
+permitted the death of a hostage just because their 
+champion hadn’t turned up. Why hadn’t he just 
+grabbed Ron and gone? He would have been first 
+back. ... Cedric and Krum hadn’t wasted time 
+worrying about anyone else; they hadn’t taken the 
+mersong seriously. ... 
+
+Dumbledore was crouching at the water’s edge, deep 
+in conversation with what seemed to be the chief 
+merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking 
+female. He was making the same sort of screechy 
+noises that the merpeople made when they were 
+above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak 
+Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turned to his 
+fellow judges, and said, “A conference before we give 
+the marks, I think.” 
+
+The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had 
+gone to rescue Ron from Percy’s clutches; she led him 
+over to Harry and the others, gave him a blanket and 
+some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and 
+her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms 
+and her robes were torn, but she didn’t seem to care, 
+nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Look after Gabrielle,” she told her, and then she 
+turned to Harry. “You saved ’er,” she said 
+breathlessly. “Even though she was not your ’ostage.” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, who was now heartily wishing 
+he’d left all three girls tied to the statue. 
+
+Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek 
+(he felt his face burn and wouldn’t have been 
+surprised if steam was coming out of his ears again), 
+then said to Ron, “And you too — you ’elped — ” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, “yeah, a 
+bit — ” 
+
+
+
+Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. 
+Hermione looked simply furious, but just then, Ludo 
+Bagman’s magically magnified voice boomed out 
+beside them, making them all jump, and causing the 
+crowd in the stands to go very quiet. 
+
+“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. 
+Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what 
+happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have 
+therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each 
+of the champions, as follows. ... 
+
+“Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent 
+use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by 
+grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to 
+retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five 
+points.” 
+
+Applause from the stands. 
+
+“I deserved zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her 
+magnificent head. 
+
+
+
+Page | 559 
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+
+
+“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head 
+Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though 
+he returned one minute outside the time limit of an 
+hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the 
+crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. “We 
+therefore award him forty-seven points.” 
+
+Harry’s heart sank. If Cedric had been outside the 
+time limit, he most certainly had been. 
+
+“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of 
+Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and 
+was second to return with his hostage. We award him 
+forty points.” 
+
+Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very 
+superior. 
+
+“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman 
+continued. “He returned last, and well outside the 
+time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess 
+informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the 
+hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to 
+his determination to return all hostages to safety, not 
+merely his own.” 
+
+Ron and Hermione both gave Harry half-exasperated, 
+half-commiserating looks. 
+
+“Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave 
+Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows 
+moral fiber and merits full marks. However ... Mr. 
+Potter’s score is forty-five points.” 
+
+Harry’s stomach leapt — he was now tying for first 
+place with Cedric. Ron and Hermione, caught by 
+surprise, stared at Harry, then laughed and started 
+applauding hard with the rest of the crowd. 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+“There you go, Harry!” Ron shouted over the noise. 
+“You weren’t being thick after all — you were showing 
+moral fiber!” 
+
+Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn’t 
+look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione 
+in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering 
+Harry to listen. 
+
+“The third and final task will take place at dusk on 
+the twenty-fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The 
+champions will be notified of what is coming precisely 
+one month beforehand. Thank you all for your 
+support of the champions.” 
+
+It was over, Harry thought dazedly, as Madam 
+Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages 
+back to the castle to get into dry clothes ... it was 
+over, he had got through ... he didn’t have to worry 
+about anything now until June the twenty-fourth. ... 
+
+Next time he was in Hogsmeade, Harry decided as he 
+walked back up the stone steps into the castle, he 
+was going to buy Dobby a pair of socks for every day 
+of the year. 
+
+
+
+Page | 561 
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+
+
+
+
+PADFOOT RETURNS 
+
+One of the best things about the aftermath of the 
+second task was that everybody was very keen to hear 
+details of what had happened down in the lake, which 
+meant that Ron was getting to share Harry’s limelight 
+for once. Harry noticed that Ron’s version of events 
+changed subtly with every retelling. At first, he gave 
+what seemed to be the truth; it tallied with 
+Hermione’s story, anyway — Dumbledore had put all 
+the hostages into a bewitched sleep in Professor 
+McGonagall’s office, first assuring them that they 
+would be quite safe, and would awake when they were 
+back above the water. One week later, however, Ron 
+was telling a thrilling tale of kidnap in which he 
+struggled single-handedly against fifty heavily armed 
+merpeople who had to beat him into submission 
+before tying him up. 
+
+“But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve,” he assured 
+Padma Patil, who seemed to be a lot keener on Ron 
+now that he was getting so much attention and was 
+making a point of talking to him every time they 
+
+
+
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+
+passed in the corridors. “I could’ve taken those mer- 
+idiots any time I wanted.” 
+
+“What were you going to do, snore at them?” said 
+Hermione waspishly. People had been teasing her so 
+much about being the thing that Viktor Krum would 
+most miss that she was in a rather tetchy mood. 
+
+Ron’s ears went red, and thereafter, he reverted to the 
+bewitched sleep version of events. 
+
+As they entered March the weather became drier, but 
+cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time 
+they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in 
+the post because the owls kept being blown off 
+course. The brown owl that Harry had sent to Sirius 
+with the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend turned up 
+at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers 
+sticking up the wrong way; Harry had no sooner torn 
+off Sirius’s reply than it took flight, clearly afraid it 
+was going to be sent outside again. 
+
+Sirius’s letter was almost as short as the previous 
+one. 
+
+Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past 
+Dervish and Banges) at two o’clock on Saturday 
+afternoon. Bring as much food as you can. 
+
+“He hasn’t come back to Hogsmeade?” said Ron 
+incredulously. 
+
+“It looks like it, doesn’t it?” said Hermione. 
+
+“I can’t believe him,” said Harry tensely, “if he’s 
+caught ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+“Made it so far, though, hasn’t he?” said Ron. “And 
+it’s not like the place is swarming with dementors 
+anymore.” 
+
+Harry folded up the letter, thinking. If he was honest 
+with himself, he really wanted to see Sirius again. He 
+therefore approached the final lesson of the afternoon 
+— double Potions — feeling considerably more 
+cheerful than he usually did when descending the 
+steps to the dungeons. 
+
+Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in a huddle 
+outside the classroom door with Pansy Parkinson’s 
+gang of Slytherin girls. All of them were looking at 
+something Harry couldn’t see and sniggering heartily. 
+Pansy’s pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle ’s 
+broad back as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached. 
+
+“There they are, there they are!” she giggled, and the 
+knot of Slytherins broke apart. Harry saw that Pansy 
+had a magazine in her hands — Witch Weekly. The 
+moving picture on the front showed a curly-haired 
+witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large 
+sponge cake with her wand. 
+
+“You might find something to interest you in there, 
+Granger!” Pansy said loudly, and she threw the 
+magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking 
+startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, 
+and Snape beckoned them all inside. 
+
+Hermione, Harry, and Ron headed for a table at the 
+back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had 
+turned his back on them to write up the ingredients 
+of today’s potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily 
+rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, 
+in the center pages, Hermione found what they were 
+looking for. Harry and Ron leaned in closer. A color 
+photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled: 
+Page | 564 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache 
+
+
+
+A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all 
+the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. 
+Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, 
+fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found 
+solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle- 
+born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he 
+would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow 
+in a life already littered with personal loss. 
+
+Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to 
+have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone 
+cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor 
+Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World 
+Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with 
+both boys’ affections. Krum, who is openly smitten 
+with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited 
+her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, 
+and insists that he has “never felt this way about any 
+other girl.” 
+
+However, it might not be Miss Granger’s doubtful 
+natural charms that have captured these unfortunate 
+boys’ interest. 
+
+“She’s really ugly,” says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty 
+and vivacious fourth-year student, “but she’d be well 
+up to making a Love Potion, she’s quite brainy. I 
+think that’s how she’s doing it.” 
+
+Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and 
+no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate 
+these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter’s well- 
+wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his 
+heart on a worthier candidate. 
+
+“I told you!” Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared 
+down at the article. “I told you not to annoy Rita 
+
+Page | 565 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Skeeter! She’s made you out to be some sort of — of 
+scarlet woman!” 
+
+Hermione stopped looking astonished and snorted 
+with laughter. “ Scarlet woman?” she repeated, 
+shaking with suppressed giggles as she looked 
+around at Ron. 
+
+“It’s what my mum calls them,” Ron muttered, his 
+ears going red. 
+
+“If that’s the best Rita can do, she’s losing her touch,” 
+said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw Witch 
+Weekly onto the empty chair beside her. “What a pile 
+of old rubbish.” 
+
+She looked over at the Slytherins, who were all 
+watching her and Harry closely across the room to see 
+if they had been upset by the article. Hermione gave 
+them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and she, Harry, 
+and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they 
+would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion. 
+
+“There’s something funny, though,” said Hermione 
+ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over 
+a bowl of scarab beetles. “How could Rita Skeeter 
+have known ... ?” 
+
+“Known what?” said Ron quickly. “You haven’t been 
+mixing up Love Potions, have you?” 
+
+“Don’t be stupid,” Hermione snapped, starting to 
+pound up her beetles again. “No, it’s just ... how did 
+she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the 
+summer?” 
+
+Hermione blushed scarlet as she said this and 
+determinedly avoided Ron’s eyes. 
+
+
+
+Page | 566 
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+
+
+
+
+“What?” said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud 
+clunk. 
+
+
+
+“He asked me right after he’d pulled me out of the 
+lake,” Hermione muttered. “After he’d got rid of his 
+shark’s head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets 
+and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges 
+so they wouldn’t hear, and he said, if I wasn’t doing 
+anything over the summer, would I like to — ” 
+
+“And what did you say?” said Ron, who had picked up 
+his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six 
+inches from his bowl, because he was looking at 
+Hermione. 
+
+“And he did say he’d never felt the same way about 
+anyone else,” Hermione went on, going so red now 
+that Harry could almost feel the heat coming from 
+her, “but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? 
+
+She wasn’t there ... or was she? Maybe she has got an 
+Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the 
+grounds to watch the second task. ...” 
+
+“And what did you say?” Ron repeated, pounding his 
+pestle down so hard that it dented the desk. 
+
+“Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry 
+were okay to — ” 
+
+“Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, 
+Miss Granger,” said an icy voice right behind them, 
+and all three of them jumped, “I must ask you not to 
+discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor.” 
+
+Snape had glided over to their desk while they were 
+talking. The whole class was now looking around at 
+them; Malfoy took the opportunity to flash POTTER 
+STINKS across the dungeon at Harry. 
+
+
+
+Page | 567 
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+
+“Ah . . . reading magazines under the table as well?” 
+Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. 
+“A further ten points from Gryffindor ... oh but of 
+course ...” Snape’s black eyes glittered as they fell on 
+Rita Skeeter’s article. “Potter has to keep up with his 
+press cuttings. ...” 
+
+The dungeon rang with the Slytherins’ laughter, and 
+an unpleasant smile curled Snape’s thin mouth. To 
+Harry’s fury, he began to read the article aloud. 
+
+“ ‘Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache . . . dear, dear, 
+
+Potter, what’s ailing you now? ‘A boy like no other, 
+perhaps ...’ ” 
+
+Harry could feel his face burning. Snape was pausing 
+at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a 
+hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse 
+when read by Snape. Even Hermione was blushing 
+scarlet now. 
+
+“ ‘. . . Harry Potter’s well-wishers must hope that, next 
+time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.’ 
+How very touching,” sneered Snape, rolling up the 
+magazine to continued gales of laughter from the 
+Slytherins. “Well, I think I had better separate the 
+three of you, so you can keep your minds on your 
+potions rather than on your tangled love lives. 
+Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, 
+beside Miss Parkinson. Potter — that table in front of 
+my desk. Move. Now.” 
+
+Furious, Harry threw his ingredients and his bag into 
+his cauldron and dragged it up to the front of the 
+dungeon to the empty table. Snape followed, sat down 
+at his desk and watched Harry unload his cauldron. 
+Determined not to look at Snape, Harry resumed the 
+mashing of his scarab beetles, imagining each one to 
+have Snape’s face. 
+
+Page | 568 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“All this press attention seems to have inflated your 
+already over-large head, Potter,” said Snape quietly, 
+once the rest of the class had settled down again. 
+
+Harry didn’t answer. He knew Snape was trying to 
+provoke him; he had done this before. No doubt he 
+was hoping for an excuse to take a round fifty points 
+from Gryffindor before the end of the class. 
+
+“You might be laboring under the delusion that the 
+entire wizarding world is impressed with you,” Snape 
+went on, so quietly that no one else could hear him 
+(Harry continued to pound his scarab beetles, even 
+though he had already reduced them to a very fine 
+powder), “but I don’t care how many times your 
+picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are 
+nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to 
+be beneath him.” 
+
+Harry tipped the powdered beetles into his cauldron 
+and started cutting up his ginger roots. His hands 
+were shaking slightly out of anger, but he kept his 
+eyes down, as though he couldn’t hear what Snape 
+was saying to him. 
+
+“So I give you fair warning, Potter,” Snape continued 
+in a softer and more dangerous voice, “pint-sized 
+celebrity or not — if I catch you breaking into my 
+office one more time — ” 
+
+“I haven’t been anywhere near your office!” said Harry 
+angrily, forgetting his feigned deafness. 
+
+“Don’t lie to me,” Snape hissed, his fathomless black 
+eyes boring into Harry’s. “Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. 
+Both come from my private stores, and I know who 
+stole them.” 
+
+
+
+Page | 569 
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+
+
+Harry stared back at Snape, determined not to blink 
+or to look guilty. In truth, he hadn’t stolen either of 
+these things from Snape. Hermione had taken the 
+boomslang skin back in their second year — they had 
+needed it for the Polyjuice Potion — and while Snape 
+had suspected Harry at the time, he had never been 
+able to prove it. Dobby, of course, had stolen the 
+gillyweed. 
+
+“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry lied 
+coldly. 
+
+“You were out of bed on the night my office was 
+broken into!” Snape hissed. “I know it, Potter! Now, 
+Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but 
+I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime 
+stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!” 
+
+“Right,” said Harry coolly, turning back to his ginger 
+roots. “I’ll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go 
+in there.” 
+
+Snape’s eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the 
+inside of his black robes. For one wild moment, Harry 
+thought Snape was about to pull out his wand and 
+curse him — then he saw that Snape had drawn out a 
+small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. Harry 
+stared at it. 
+
+“Do you know what this is, Potter?” Snape said, his 
+eyes glittering dangerously again. 
+
+“No,” said Harry, with complete honesty this time. 
+
+“It is Veritaserum — a Truth Potion so powerful that 
+three drops would have you spilling your innermost 
+secrets for this entire class to hear,” said Snape 
+viciously. “Now, the use of this potion is controlled by 
+very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch 
+Page | 570 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+your step, you might just find that my hand slips” — 
+he shook the crystal bottle slightly — “right over your 
+evening pumpkin juice. And then, Potter ... then we’ll 
+find out whether you’ve been in my office or not.” 
+
+Harry said nothing. He turned back to his ginger 
+roots once more, picked up his knife, and started 
+slicing them again. He didn’t like the sound of that 
+Truth Potion at all, nor would he put it past Snape to 
+slip him some. He repressed a shudder at the thought 
+of what might come spilling out of his mouth if Snape 
+did it . . . quite apart from landing a whole lot of people 
+in trouble — Hermione and Dobby for a start — there 
+were all the other things he was concealing . . . like the 
+fact that he was in contact with Sirius . . . and — his 
+insides squirmed at the thought — how he felt about 
+Cho. ... He tipped his ginger roots into the cauldron 
+too, and wondered whether he ought to take a leaf out 
+of Moody’s book and start drinking only from a 
+private hip flask. 
+
+There was a knock on the dungeon door. 
+
+“Enter,” said Snape in his usual voice. 
+
+The class looked around as the door opened. 
+
+Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him 
+as he walked up toward Snape ’s desk. He was 
+twisting his finger around his goatee and looking 
+agitated. 
+
+“We need to talk,” said Karkaroff abruptly when he 
+had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that 
+nobody should hear what he was saying that he was 
+barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a 
+rather poor ventriloquist. Harry kept his eyes on his 
+ginger roots, listening hard. 
+
+
+
+Page | 571 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“I’ll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff,” Snape 
+muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him. 
+
+“I want to talk now, while you can’t slip off, Severus. 
+You’ve been avoiding me.” 
+
+“After the lesson,” Snape snapped. 
+
+Under the pretext of holding up a measuring cup to 
+see if he’d poured out enough armadillo bile, Harry 
+sneaked a sidelong glance at the pair of them. 
+Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked 
+angry. 
+
+Karkaroff hovered behind Snape ’s desk for the rest of 
+the double period. He seemed intent on preventing 
+Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to 
+hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Harry deliberately 
+knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two 
+minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse 
+to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while 
+the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door. 
+
+“What’s so urgent?” he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff. 
+
+“This,” said Karkaroff, and Harry, peering around the 
+edge of his cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left- 
+hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on 
+his inner forearm. 
+
+“Well?” said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to 
+move his lips. “Do you see? It’s never been this clear, 
+never since — ” 
+
+“Put it away!” snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping 
+the classroom. 
+
+“But you must have noticed — ” Karkaroff began in an 
+agitated voice. 
+
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+
+“We can talk later, Karkaroff!” spat Snape. “Potter! 
+What are you doing?” 
+
+“Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor,” said Harry 
+innocently, straightening up and showing Snape the 
+sodden rag he was holding. 
+
+Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the 
+dungeon. He looked both worried and angry. Not 
+wanting to remain alone with an exceptionally angry 
+Snape, Harry threw his books and ingredients back 
+into his bag and left at top speed to tell Ron and 
+Hermione what he had just witnessed. 
+
+They left the castle at noon the next day to find a 
+weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The 
+weather was milder than it had been all year, and by 
+the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all three of them 
+had taken off their cloaks and thrown them over their 
+shoulders. The food Sirius had told them to bring was 
+in Harry’s bag; they had sneaked a dozen chicken 
+legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice 
+from the lunch table. 
+
+They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present 
+for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most 
+lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned 
+with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that 
+screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Then, 
+at half past one, they made their way up the High 
+Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the 
+edge of the village. 
+
+Harry had never been in this direction before. The 
+winding lane was leading them out into the wild 
+countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were 
+fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were 
+walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose 
+shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner 
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+and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for 
+them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very 
+large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some 
+newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar. . . . 
+
+“Hello, Sirius,” said Harry when they had reached 
+him. 
+
+The black dog sniffed Harry’s bag eagerly, wagged its 
+tail once, then turned and began to trot away from 
+them across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to 
+meet the rocky foot of the mountain. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione climbed over the stile and followed. 
+
+Sirius led them to the very foot of the mountain, 
+where the ground was covered with boulders and 
+rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but 
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione were soon out of breath. 
+They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain 
+itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, 
+winding, and stony path, following Sirius’s wagging 
+tail, sweating in the sun, the shoulder straps of 
+Harry’s bag cutting into his shoulders. 
+
+Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when 
+they reached the place where he had vanished, they 
+saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into 
+it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. 
+Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a 
+large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray 
+horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak’s fierce orange eye 
+flashed at the sight of them. All three of them bowed 
+low to him, and after regarding them imperiously for a 
+moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and 
+allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his 
+feathery neck. Harry, however, was looking at the 
+black dog, which had just turned into his godfather. 
+
+
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+Sirius was wearing ragged gray robes; the same ones 
+he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His 
+black hair was longer than it had been when he had 
+appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted 
+once more. He looked very thin. 
+
+“Chicken!” he said hoarsely after removing the old 
+Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them 
+down onto the cave floor. 
+
+Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the 
+bundle of chicken legs and bread. 
+
+“Thanks,” said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a 
+drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing 
+off a large chunk with his teeth. “I’ve been living off 
+rats mostly. Can’t steal too much food from 
+Hogsmeade; I’d draw attention to myself.” 
+
+He grinned up at Harry, but Harry returned the grin 
+only reluctantly. 
+
+“What’re you doing here, Sirius?” he said. 
+
+“Fulfilling my duty as godfather,” said Sirius, gnawing 
+on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. “Don’t 
+worry about it, I’m pretending to be a lovable stray.” 
+
+He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in 
+Harry’s face, said more seriously, “I want to be on the 
+spot. Your last letter ... well, let’s just say things are 
+getting fishier. I’ve been stealing the paper every time 
+someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, 
+I’m not the only one who’s getting worried.” 
+
+He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave 
+floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. 
+Harry, however, continued to stare at Sirius. 
+
+
+
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+“What if they catch you? What if you’re seen?” 
+
+“You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around 
+here who know I’m an Animagus,” said Sirius, 
+shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg. 
+
+Ron nudged Harry and passed him the Daily 
+Prophets. There were two: The first bore the headline 
+Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, 
+Ministry Witch Still Missing — Minister of Magic Now 
+Personally Involved. 
+
+Harry scanned the story about Crouch. Phrases 
+jumped out at him: hasn’t been seen in public since 
+November ... house appears deserted ... St. Mungo’s 
+Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline 
+comment . . . Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of 
+critical illness. . . . 
+
+“They’re making it sound like he’s dying,” said Harry 
+slowly. “But he can’t be that ill if he managed to get 
+up here. ...” 
+
+“My brother’s Crouch’s personal assistant,” Ron 
+informed Sirius. “He says Crouch is suffering from 
+overwork.” 
+
+“Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up 
+close,” said Harry slowly, still reading the story. “The 
+night my name came out of the goblet. ...” 
+
+“Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn’t 
+he?” said Hermione, an edge to her voice. She was 
+stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius’s 
+chicken bones. “I bet he wishes he hadn’t done it now 
+— bet he feels the difference now she’s not there to 
+look after him.” 
+
+
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+
+“Hermione’s obsessed with house-elfs,” Ron muttered 
+to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. Sirius, 
+however, looked interested. 
+
+“Crouch sacked his house-elf?” 
+
+“Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup,” said Harry, and 
+he launched into the story of the Dark Mark’s 
+appearance, and Winky being found with Harry’s 
+wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch’s fury. 
+When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again 
+and had started pacing up and down the cave. 
+
+“Let me get this straight,” he said after a while, 
+brandishing a fresh chicken leg. “You first saw the elf 
+in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?” 
+
+“Right,” said Harry, Ron, and Hermione together. 
+
+“But Crouch didn’t turn up for the match?” 
+
+“No,” said Harry. “I think he said he’d been too busy.” 
+
+Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he 
+said, “Harry, did you check your pockets for your 
+wand after you’d left the Top Box?” 
+
+“Erm ...” Harry thought hard. “No,” he said finally. “I 
+didn’t need to use it before we got in the forest. And 
+then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in 
+there were my Omnioculars.” He stared at Sirius. “Are 
+you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand 
+in the Top Box?” 
+
+“It’s possible,” said Sirius. 
+
+“Winky didn’t steal that wand!” Hermione insisted. 
+
+
+
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+“The elf wasn’t the only one in that box,” said Sirius, 
+his brow furrowed as he continued to pace. “Who else 
+was sitting behind you?” 
+
+“Loads of people,” said Harry. “Some Bulgarian 
+ministers ... Cornelius Fudge ... the Malfoys ...” 
+
+“The Malfoys!” said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his 
+voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak 
+tossed his head nervously. “I bet it was Lucius 
+Malfoy!” 
+
+“Anyone else?” said Sirius. 
+
+“No one,” said Harry. 
+
+“Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman,” Hermione 
+reminded him. 
+
+“Oh yeah ...” 
+
+“I don’t know anything about Bagman except that he 
+used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps,” said 
+Sirius, still pacing. “What’s he like?” 
+
+“He’s okay,” said Harry. “He keeps offering to help me 
+with the Triwizard Tournament.” 
+
+“Does he, now?” said Sirius, frowning more deeply. “I 
+wonder why he’d do that?” 
+
+“Says he’s taken a liking to me,” said Harry. 
+
+“Hmm,” said Sirius, looking thoughtful. 
+
+“We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark 
+appeared,” Hermione told Sirius. “Remember?” she 
+said to Harry and Ron. 
+
+
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+“Yeah, but he didn’t stay in the forest, did he?” said 
+Ron. “The moment we told him about the riot, he 
+went off to the campsite.” 
+
+“How d’you know?” Hermione shot back. “How d’you 
+know where he Disapparated to?” 
+
+“Come off it,” said Ron incredulously. “Are you saying 
+you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?” 
+
+“It’s more likely he did it than Winky,” said Hermione 
+stubbornly. 
+
+“Told you,” said Ron, looking meaningfully at Sirius, 
+“told you she’s obsessed with house — ” 
+
+But Sirius held up a hand to silence Ron. 
+
+“When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf 
+had been discovered holding Harry’s wand, what did 
+Crouch do?” 
+
+“Went to look in the bushes,” said Harry, “but there 
+wasn’t anyone else there.” 
+
+“Of course,” Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, “of 
+course, he’d want to pin it on anyone but his own elf 
+. . . and then he sacked her?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Hermione in a heated voice, “he sacked 
+her, just because she hadn’t stayed in her tent and let 
+herself get trampled — ” 
+
+“Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!” said 
+Ron. 
+
+Sirius shook his head and said, “She’s got the 
+measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you 
+
+
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+want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at 
+how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.” 
+
+He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently 
+thinking hard. 
+
+“All these absences of Barty Crouch’s ... he goes to 
+the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a 
+seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn’t bother 
+to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate 
+the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to 
+that too. ... It’s not like Crouch. If he’s ever taken a 
+day off work because of illness before this, I’ll eat 
+Buckbeak.” 
+
+“D’you know Crouch, then?” said Harry. 
+
+Sirius’s face darkened. He suddenly looked as 
+menacing as he had the night when Harry first met 
+him, the night when Harry still believed Sirius to be a 
+murderer. 
+
+“Oh I know Crouch all right,” he said quietly. “He was 
+the one who gave the order for me to be sent to 
+Azkaban — without a trial.” 
+
+“What?” said Ron and Hermione together. 
+
+“You’re kidding!” said Harry. 
+
+“No, I’m not,” said Sirius, taking another great bite of 
+chicken. “Crouch used to be Head of the Department 
+of Magical Law Enforcement, didn’t you know?” 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads. 
+
+“He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic,” said 
+Sirius. “He’s a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully 
+magical — and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort 
+
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+supporter,” he said, reading the look on Harry’s face. 
+“No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against 
+the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were 
+against the Dark Side ... well, you wouldn’t 
+understand ... you’re too young. ...” 
+
+“That’s what my dad said at the World Cup,” said 
+Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. “Try us, 
+why don’t you?” 
+
+A grin flashed across Sirius’s thin face. 
+
+“All right, I’ll try you. ...” He walked once up the cave, 
+back again, and then said, “Imagine that Voldemort’s 
+powerful now. You don’t know who his supporters 
+are, you don’t know who’s working for him and who 
+isn’t; you know he can control people so that they do 
+terrible things without being able to stop themselves. 
+You’re scared for yourself, and your family, and your 
+friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, 
+more disappearances, more torturing ... the Ministry 
+of Magic’s in disarray, they don’t know what to do, 
+they’re trying to keep everything hidden from the 
+Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. 
+
+Terror everywhere ... panic ... confusion ... that’s how 
+it used to be. 
+
+“Well, times like that bring out the best in some 
+people and the worst in others. Crouch’s principles 
+might’ve been good in the beginning — I wouldn’t 
+know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he 
+started ordering very harsh measures against 
+Voldemort’s supporters. The Aurors were given new 
+powers — powers to kill rather than capture, for 
+instance. And I wasn’t the only one who was handed 
+straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought 
+violence with violence, and authorized the use of the 
+Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he 
+became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark 
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+Side. He had his supporters, mind you — plenty of 
+people thought he was going about things the right 
+way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards 
+clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. 
+When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a 
+matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then 
+something rather unfortunate happened. ...” Sirius 
+smiled grimly. “Crouch’s own son was caught with a 
+group of Death Eaters who’d managed to talk their 
+way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to 
+find Voldemort and return him to power.” 
+
+“Crouch’s son was caught?” gasped Hermione. 
+
+“Yep,” said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to 
+Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground 
+beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half. “Nasty 
+little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have 
+spent a bit more time at home with his family, 
+shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once 
+in a while ... gotten to know his own son.” 
+
+He began to wolf down large pieces of bread. 
+
+“ Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry. 
+
+“No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was 
+in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is 
+mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy 
+was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet 
+my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been 
+in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the 
+house-elf.” 
+
+“Did Crouch try and get his son off?” Hermione 
+whispered. 
+
+Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a 
+bark. 
+
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+
+“Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the 
+measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened 
+to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated 
+his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw 
+him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she 
+associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn’t 
+that tell you what he’s like? Crouch’s fatherly 
+affection stretched just far enough to give his son a 
+trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than 
+an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the 
+boy ... then he sent him straight to Azkaban.” 
+
+“He gave his own son to the dementors?” asked Harry 
+quietly. 
+
+“That’s right,” said Sirius, and he didn’t look remotely 
+amused now. “I saw the dementors bringing him in, 
+watched them through the bars in my cell door. He 
+can’t have been more than nineteen. They took him 
+into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his 
+mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, 
+though . . . they all went quiet in the end . . . except 
+when they shrieked in their sleep. ...” 
+
+For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius’s eyes 
+became more pronounced than ever, as though 
+shutters had closed behind them. 
+
+“So he’s still in Azkaban?” Harry said. 
+
+“No,” said Sirius dully. “No, he’s not in there anymore. 
+He died about a year after they brought him in.” 
+
+“He died?” 
+
+“He wasn’t the only one,” said Sirius bitterly. “Most go 
+mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They 
+lose the will to live. You could always tell when a 
+death was coming, because the dementors could 
+
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+sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty 
+sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important 
+Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a 
+deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty 
+Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died 
+herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted 
+away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his 
+son’s body. The dementors buried him outside the 
+fortress; I watched them do it.” 
+
+Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his 
+mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin 
+juice and drained it. 
+
+“So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he 
+had it made,” he continued, wiping his mouth with 
+the back of his hand. “One moment, a hero, poised to 
+become Minister of Magic . . . next, his son dead, his 
+wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I’ve 
+heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once 
+the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more 
+sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a 
+nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly 
+astray. The conclusion was that his father never 
+cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top 
+job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the 
+Department of International Magical Cooperation.” 
+
+There was a long silence. Harry was thinking of the 
+way Crouch’s eyes had bulged as he’d looked down at 
+his disobedient house-elf back in the wood at the 
+Quidditch World Cup. This, then, must have been 
+why Crouch had overreacted to Winky being found 
+beneath the Dark Mark. It had brought back 
+memories of his son, and the old scandal, and his fall 
+from grace at the Ministry. 
+
+“Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark 
+wizards,” Harry told Sirius. 
+
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+“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s become a bit of a mania with 
+him,” said Sirius, nodding. “If you ask me, he still 
+thinks he can bring back the old popularity by 
+catching one more Death Eater.” 
+
+“And he sneaked up here to search Snape’s office!” 
+said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione. 
+
+“Yes, and that doesn’t make sense at all,” said Sirius. 
+
+“Yeah, it does!” said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook 
+his head. 
+
+“Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why 
+hasn’t he been coming to judge the tournament? It 
+would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to 
+Hogwarts and keep an eye on him.” 
+
+“So you think Snape could be up to something, then?” 
+asked Harry, but Hermione broke in. 
+
+“Look, I don’t care what you say, Dumbledore trusts 
+Snape — ” 
+
+“Oh give it a rest, Hermione,” said Ron impatiently. “I 
+know Dumbledore ’s brilliant and everything, but that 
+doesn’t mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn’t fool 
+him — ” 
+
+
+
+“Why did Snape save Harry’s life in the first year, 
+then? Why didn’t he just let him die?” 
+
+“I dunno — maybe he thought Dumbledore would 
+kick him out — ” 
+
+“What d’you think, Sirius?” Harry said loudly, and 
+Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen. 
+
+
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+“I think they’ve both got a point,” said Sirius, looking 
+thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. “Ever since I 
+found out Snape was teaching here, I’ve wondered 
+why Dumbledore hired him. Snape ’s always been 
+fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at 
+school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was,” Sirius 
+added, and Harry and Ron grinned at each other. 
+“Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school 
+than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of 
+a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be 
+Death Eaters.” 
+
+Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off 
+names. 
+
+“Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors 
+the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — 
+they’re a married couple — they’re in Azkaban. Avery 
+
+— from what I’ve heard he wormed his way out of 
+trouble by saying he’d been acting under the Imperius 
+Curse — he’s still at large. But as far as I know, 
+
+Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater 
+
+— not that that means much. Plenty of them were 
+never caught. And Snape ’s certainly clever and 
+cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.” 
+
+“Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to 
+keep that quiet,” said Ron. 
+
+“Yeah, you should’ve seen Snape’s face when 
+Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!” said Harry 
+quickly. “Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says 
+Snape’s been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really 
+worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but 
+I couldn’t see what it was.” 
+
+“He showed Snape something on his arm?” said 
+Sirius, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers 
+distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged 
+
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+again. “Well, I’ve no idea what that’s about ... but if 
+Karkaroff’s genuinely worried, and he’s going to 
+Snape for answers ...” 
+
+Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of 
+frustration. 
+
+“There’s still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, 
+and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other 
+people wouldn’t, but I just can’t see him letting Snape 
+teach at Hogwarts if he’d ever worked for Voldemort.” 
+
+“Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into 
+Snape ’s office then?” said Ron stubbornly. 
+
+“Well,” said Sirius slowly, “I wouldn’t put it past Mad- 
+Eye to have searched every single teacher’s office 
+when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense 
+Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I’m not sure 
+he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he’s seen, 
+it’s not surprising. I’ll say this for Moody, though, he 
+never killed if he could help it. Always brought people 
+in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never 
+descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, 
+though ... he’s a different matter ... is he really ill? If 
+he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to 
+Snape ’s office? And if he’s not ... what’s he up to? 
+What was he doing at the World Cup that was so 
+important he didn’t turn up in the Top Box? What’s 
+he been doing while he should have been judging the 
+tournament?” 
+
+Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave 
+wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky 
+floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. 
+Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron. 
+
+
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+“You say your brother’s Crouch’s personal assistant? 
+Any chance you could ask him if he’s seen Crouch 
+lately?” 
+
+“I can try,” said Ron doubtfully. “Better not make it 
+sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, 
+though. Percy loves Crouch.” 
+
+“And you might try and find out whether they’ve got 
+any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you’re at it,” said 
+Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the Daily 
+Prophet. 
+
+“Bagman told me they hadn’t,” said Harry. 
+
+“Yes, he’s quoted in the article in there,” said Sirius, 
+nodding at the paper. “Blustering on about how bad 
+Bertha’s memory is. Well, maybe she’s changed since 
+I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn’t forgetful at 
+all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she 
+had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her 
+into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her 
+mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at 
+the Ministry of Magic ... maybe that’s why Bagman 
+didn’t bother to look for her for so long. ...” 
+
+Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his 
+shadowed eyes. 
+
+“What’s the time?” 
+
+Harry checked his watch, then remembered it hadn’t 
+been working since it had spent over an hour in the 
+lake. 
+
+“It’s half past three,” said Hermione. 
+
+“You’d better get back to school,” Sirius said, getting 
+to his feet. “Now listen ...” He looked particularly hard 
+
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+
+at Harry. “I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school 
+to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still 
+want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go 
+leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an 
+ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.” 
+
+“No one’s tried to attack me so far, except a dragon 
+and a couple of grindylows,” Harry said, but Sirius 
+scowled at him. 
+
+“I don’t care ... I’ll breathe freely again when this 
+tournament’s over, and that’s not until June. And 
+don’t forget, if you’re talking about me among 
+yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?” 
+
+He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and 
+went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. “I’ll walk to the edge 
+of the village with you,” said Sirius, “see if I can 
+scrounge another paper.” 
+
+He transformed into the great black dog before they 
+left the cave, and they walked back down the 
+mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn 
+ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of 
+them to pat him on the head, before turning and 
+setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. 
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into 
+Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts. 
+
+“Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?” 
+Ron said as they walked up the drive to the castle. 
+“But maybe he doesn’t care ... it’d probably just make 
+him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves 
+rules. He’d just say Crouch was refusing to break 
+them for his own son.” 
+
+“Percy would never throw any of his family to the 
+dementors,” said Hermione severely. 
+
+
+
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+“I don’t know,” said Ron. “If he thought we were 
+standing in the way of his career . . . Percy’s really 
+ambitious, you know. ...” 
+
+They walked up the stone steps into the entrance 
+hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted 
+toward them from the Great Hall. 
+
+“Poor old Snuffles,” said Ron, breathing deeply. “He 
+must really like you, Harry. ... Imagine having to live 
+off rats.” 
+
+
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+
+
+THE MADNESS OF MR. CROUCH 
+
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery 
+after breakfast on Sunday to send a letter to Percy, 
+asking, as Sirius had suggested, whether he had seen 
+Mr. Crouch lately. They used Hedwig, because it had 
+been so long since she’d had a job. When they had 
+watched her fly out of sight through the Owlery 
+window, they proceeded down to the kitchen to give 
+Dobby his new socks. 
+
+The house-elves gave them a very cheery welcome, 
+bowing and curtsying and bustling around making 
+tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present. 
+
+“Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!” he squeaked, 
+wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes. 
+
+“You saved my life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you 
+really did,” said Harry. 
+
+“No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?” said 
+Ron, who was looking around at the beaming and 
+bowing house-elves. 
+
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+“You’ve just had breakfast!” said Hermione irritably, 
+but a great silver platter of eclairs was already 
+zooming toward them, supported by four elves. 
+
+“We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles,” 
+Harry muttered. 
+
+“Good idea,” said Ron. “Give Pig something to do. You 
+couldn’t give us a bit of extra food, could you?” he 
+said to the surrounding elves, and they bowed 
+delightedly and hurried off to get some more. 
+
+“Dobby, where’s Winky?” said Hermione, who was 
+looking around. 
+
+“Winky is over there by the fire, miss,” said Dobby 
+quietly, his ears drooping slightly. 
+
+“Oh dear,” said Hermione as she spotted Winky. 
+
+Harry looked over at the fireplace too. Winky was 
+sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had 
+allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not 
+immediately distinguishable from the smoke- 
+blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged 
+and unwashed. She was clutching a bottle of 
+butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring 
+into the fire. As they watched her, she gave an 
+enormous hiccup. 
+
+“Winky is getting through six bottles a day now,” 
+Dobby whispered to Harry. 
+
+“Well, it’s not strong, that stuff,” Harry said. 
+
+But Dobby shook his head. “ Tis strong for a house- 
+elf, sir,” he said. 
+
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+Winky hiccuped again. The elves who had brought the 
+eclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned 
+to work. 
+
+“Winky is pining, Harry Potter,” Dobby whispered 
+sadly. “Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks 
+Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby 
+says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is 
+her master now.” 
+
+“Hey, Winky,” said Harry, struck by a sudden 
+inspiration, walking over to her, and bending down, 
+“you don’t know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do 
+you? Because he’s stopped turning up to judge the 
+Triwizard Tournament.” 
+
+Winky’s eyes flickered. Her enormous pupils focused 
+on Harry. She swayed slightly again and then said, “M 
+— Master is stopped — hie — coming?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, “we haven’t seen him since the 
+first task. The Daily Prophet’s saying he’s ill.” 
+
+Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Harry. 
+
+“Master — hie — ill?” 
+
+Her bottom lip began to tremble. 
+
+“But we’re not sure if that’s true,” said Hermione 
+quickly. 
+
+“Master is needing his — hie — Winky!” whimpered 
+the elf. “Master cannot — hie — manage — hie — all 
+by himself. ...” 
+
+“Other people manage to do their own housework, 
+you know, Winky,” Hermione said severely. 
+
+
+
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+“Winky — hie — is not only — hie — doing housework 
+for Mr. Crouch!” Winky squeaked indignantly, 
+swaying worse than ever and slopping butterbeer 
+down her already heavily stained blouse. “Master is — 
+hie — trusting Winky with — hie — the most 
+important — hie — the most secret — ” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. 
+
+But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling more 
+butterbeer down herself. 
+
+“Winky keeps — hie — her master’s secrets,” she said 
+mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at 
+Harry with her eyes crossed. “You is — hie — nosing, 
+you is.” 
+
+“Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!” said 
+Dobby angrily. “Harry Potter is brave and noble and 
+Harry Potter is not nosy!” 
+
+“He is nosing — hie — into my master’s — hie — 
+private and secret — hie — Winky is a good house-elf 
+— hie — Winky keeps her silence — hie — people 
+trying to — hie — pry and poke — hie — ” 
+
+Winky’s eyelids drooped and suddenly, without 
+warning, she slid off her stool into the hearth, snoring 
+loudly. The empty bottle of butterbeer rolled away 
+across the stone-flagged floor. Half a dozen house- 
+elves came hurrying forward, looking disgusted. One 
+of them picked up the bottle; the others covered 
+Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tucked the 
+ends in neatly, hiding her from view. 
+
+“We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and miss!” 
+squeaked a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking 
+very ashamed. “We is hoping you will not judge us all 
+by Winky, sirs and miss!” 
+
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+
+“She’s unhappy!” said Hermione, exasperated. “Why 
+don’t you try and cheer her up instead of covering her 
+up?” 
+
+“Begging your pardon, miss,” said the house-elf, 
+bowing deeply again, “but house-elves has no right to 
+be unhappy when there is work to be done and 
+masters to be served.” 
+
+“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Hermione cried. “Listen to me, 
+all of you! You’ve got just as much right as wizards to 
+be unhappy! You’ve got the right to wages and 
+holidays and proper clothes, you don’t have to do 
+everything you’re told — look at Dobby!” 
+
+“Miss will please keep Dobby out of this,” Dobby 
+mumbled, looking scared. The cheery smiles had 
+vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the 
+kitchen. They were suddenly looking at Hermione as 
+though she were mad and dangerous. 
+
+“We has your extra food!” squeaked an elf at Harry’s 
+elbow, and he shoved a large ham, a dozen cakes, and 
+some fruit into Harry’s arms. “Good-bye!” 
+
+The house-elves crowded around Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione and began shunting them out of the 
+kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of 
+their backs. 
+
+“Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!” Dobby called 
+miserably from the hearth, where he was standing 
+next to the lumpy tablecloth that was Winky. 
+
+“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you, 
+Hermione?” said Ron angrily as the kitchen door 
+slammed shut behind them. “They won’t want us 
+visiting them now! We could’ve tried to get more stuff 
+out of Winky about Crouch!” 
+
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+
+“Oh as if you care about that!” scoffed Hermione. “You 
+only like coming down here for the food!” 
+
+It was an irritable sort of day after that. Harry got so 
+tired of Ron and Hermione sniping at each other over 
+their homework in the common room that he took 
+Sirius’s food up to the Owlery that evening on his 
+own. 
+
+Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire 
+ham up to the mountain by himself, so Harry enlisted 
+the help of two school screech owls as well. When 
+they had set off into the dusk, looking extremely odd 
+carrying the large package between them, Harry 
+leaned on the windowsill, looking out at the grounds, 
+at the dark, rustling treetops of the Forbidden Forest, 
+and the rippling sails of the Durmstrang ship. An 
+eagle owl flew through the coil of smoke rising from 
+Hagrid’s chimney; it soared toward the castle, around 
+the Owlery, and out of sight. Looking down, Harry 
+saw Hagrid digging energetically in front of his cabin. 
+Harry wondered what he was doing; it looked as 
+though he were making a new vegetable patch. As he 
+watched, Madame Maxime emerged from the 
+Beauxbatons carriage and walked over to Hagrid. She 
+appeared to be trying to engage him in conversation. 
+Hagrid leaned upon his spade, but did not seem keen 
+to prolong their talk, because Madame Maxime 
+returned to the carriage shortly afterward. 
+
+Unwilling to go back to Gryffindor Tower and listen to 
+Ron and Hermione snarling at each other, Harry 
+watched Hagrid digging until the darkness swallowed 
+him and the owls around Harry began to awake, 
+swooshing past him into the night. 
+
+By breakfast the next day Ron’s and Hermione’s bad 
+moods had burnt out, and to Harry’s relief, Ron’s 
+dark predictions that the house-elves would send 
+
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+
+substandard food up to the Gryffindor table because 
+Hermione had insulted them proved false; the bacon, 
+eggs, and kippers were quite as good as usual. 
+
+When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up 
+eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something. 
+
+“Percy won’t’ve had time to answer yet,” said Ron. “We 
+only sent Hedwig yesterday.” 
+
+“No, it’s not that,” said Hermione. “I’ve taken out a 
+subscription to the Daily Prophet I’m getting sick of 
+finding everything out from the Slytherins.” 
+
+“Good thinking!” said Harry, also looking up at the 
+owls. “Hey, Hermione, I think you’re in luck — ” 
+
+A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione. 
+
+“It hasn’t got a newspaper, though,” she said, looking 
+disappointed. “It’s — ” 
+
+But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front 
+of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a 
+brown owl, and a tawny. 
+
+“How many subscriptions did you take out?” said 
+Harry, seizing Hermione ’s goblet before it was 
+knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were 
+jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter 
+first. 
+
+“What on earth — ?” Hermione said, taking the letter 
+from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. 
+
+“Oh really!” she sputtered, going rather red. 
+
+“What’s up?” said Ron. 
+
+“It’s — oh how ridiculous — ” 
+
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+
+
+She thrust the letter at Harry, who saw that it was 
+not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters 
+that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet. 
+
+You are a WickEd giRL. HarRy PotTER desErves 
+
+BeTteR. GO back wherE you cAMe from mUGgle. 
+
+“They’re all like it!” said Hermione desperately, 
+opening one letter after another. “ ‘Harry Potter can do 
+much better than the likes of you. ...’ ‘You deserve to 
+be boiled in frog spawn. ...’ Ouch!” 
+
+She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish- 
+green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over 
+her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils. 
+
+“Undiluted bubotuber pus!” said Ron, picking up the 
+envelope gingerly and sniffing it. 
+
+“Ow!” said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she 
+tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but 
+her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful 
+sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair 
+of thick, knobbly gloves. 
+
+“You’d better get up to the hospital wing,” said Harry 
+as the owls around Hermione took flight. “We’ll tell 
+Professor Sprout where you’ve gone. ...” 
+
+“I warned her!” said Ron as Hermione hurried out of 
+the Great Hall, cradling her hands. “I warned her not 
+to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one ...” He read 
+out one of the letters Hermione had left behind: “ ‘I 
+read in Witch Weekly about how you are playing 
+Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough 
+hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next 
+
+
+
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+post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.’ 
+Blimey, she’d better watch out for herself.” 
+
+Hermione didn’t turn up for Herbology. As Harry and 
+Ron left the greenhouse for their Care of Magical 
+Creatures class, they saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle 
+descending the stone steps of the castle. Pansy 
+Parkinson was whispering and giggling behind them 
+with her gang of Slytherin girls. Catching sight of 
+Harry, Pansy called, “Potter, have you split up with 
+your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?” 
+
+Harry ignored her; he didn’t want to give her the 
+satisfaction of knowing how much trouble the Witch 
+Weekly article had caused. 
+
+Hagrid, who had told them last lesson that they had 
+finished with unicorns, was waiting for them outside 
+his cabin with a fresh supply of open crates at his 
+feet. Harry’s heart sank at the sight of the crates — 
+surely not another skrewt hatching? — but when he 
+got near enough to see inside, he found himself 
+looking at a number of fluffy black creatures with 
+long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat, like 
+spades, and they were blinking up at the class, 
+looking politely puzzled at all the attention. 
+
+“These’re nifflers,” said Hagrid, when the class had 
+gathered around. “Yeh find ’em down mines mostly. 
+They like sparkly stuff. ... There yeh go, look.” 
+
+One of the nifflers had suddenly leapt up and 
+attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson’s watch off her 
+wrist. She shrieked and jumped backward. 
+
+“Useful little treasure detectors,” said Hagrid happily. 
+“Thought we’d have some fun with ’em today. See over 
+there?” He pointed at the large patch of freshly turned 
+earth Harry had watched him digging from the Owlery 
+
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+window. “I’ve buried some gold coins. I’ve got a prize 
+fer whoever picks the niffler that digs up most. Jus’ 
+take off all yer valuables, an’ choose a niffler, an’ get 
+ready ter set ’em loose.” 
+
+Harry took off his watch, which he was only wearing 
+out of habit, as it didn’t work anymore, and stuffed it 
+into his pocket. Then he picked up a niffler. It put its 
+long snout in Harry’s ear and sniffed enthusiastically. 
+It was really quite cuddly. 
+
+“Hang on,” said Hagrid, looking down into the crate, 
+“there’s a spare niffler here ... who’s missin’? Where’s 
+Hermione?” 
+
+“She had to go to the hospital wing,” said Ron. 
+
+“Well explain later,” Harry muttered; Pansy 
+Parkinson was listening. 
+
+It was easily the most fun they had ever had in Care 
+of Magical Creatures. The nifflers dived in and out of 
+the patch of earth as though it were water, each 
+scurrying back to the student who had released it and 
+spitting gold into their hands. Ron’s was particularly 
+efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins. 
+
+“Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?” he asked 
+excitedly as his niffler dived back into the soil, 
+splattering his robes. 
+
+“Yer mum wouldn’ be happy, Ron,” said Hagrid, 
+grinning. “They wreck houses, nifflers. I reckon 
+they’ve nearly got the lot, now,” he added, pacing 
+around the patch of earth while the nifflers continued 
+to dive. “I on’y buried a hundred coins. Oh there 
+y’are, Hermione!” 
+
+
+
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+
+Hermione was walking toward them across the lawn. 
+Her hands were very heavily bandaged and she looked 
+miserable. Pansy Parkinson was watching her 
+beadily. 
+
+“Well, let’s check how yeh’ve done!” said Hagrid. 
+“Count yer coins! An’ there’s no point tryin’ ter steal 
+any, Goyle,” he added, his beetle-black eyes 
+narrowed. “It’s leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few 
+hours.” 
+
+Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It 
+turned out that Ron’s niffler had been most 
+successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of 
+Honeydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang 
+across the grounds for lunch; the rest of the class set 
+off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione 
+stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in 
+their boxes. Harry noticed Madame Maxime watching 
+them out of her carriage window. 
+
+“What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?” said 
+Hagrid, looking concerned. 
+
+Hermione told him about the hate mail she had 
+received that morning, and the envelope full of 
+bubotuber pus. 
+
+“Aaah, don’ worry,” said Hagrid gently, looking down 
+at her. “I got some o’ those letters an’ all, after Rita 
+Skeeter wrote abou’ me mum. ‘Yeh’re a monster an’ 
+yeh should be put down.’ ‘Yer mother killed innocent 
+people an’ if you had any decency you’d jump in a 
+lake. ’ ” 
+
+“No!” said Hermione, looking shocked. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by 
+his cabin wall. “They’re jus’ nutters, Hermione. Don’ 
+
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+open ’em if yeh get any more. Chuck ’em straigh’ in 
+the fire.” 
+
+
+
+“You missed a really good lesson,” Harry told 
+Hermione as they headed back toward the castle. 
+“They’re good, nifflers, aren’t they, Ron?” 
+
+Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid 
+had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about 
+something. 
+
+“What’s the matter?” said Harry. “Wrong flavor?” 
+
+“No,” said Ron shortly. “Why didn’t you tell me about 
+the gold?” 
+
+“What gold?” said Harry. 
+
+“The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup,” 
+said Ron. “The leprechaun gold I gave you for my 
+Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn’t you tell me 
+it disappeared?” 
+
+Harry had to think for a moment before he realized 
+what Ron was talking about. 
+
+“Oh ...” he said, the memory coming back to him at 
+last. “I dunno ... I never noticed it had gone. I was 
+more worried about my wand, wasn’t I?” 
+
+They climbed the steps into the entrance hall and 
+went into the Great Hall for lunch. 
+
+“Must be nice,” Ron said abruptly, when they had sat 
+down and started serving themselves roast beef and 
+Yorkshire puddings. “To have so much money you 
+don’t notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing.” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!” said 
+Harry impatiently. “We all did, remember?” 
+
+
+
+“I didn’t know leprechaun gold vanishes,” Ron 
+muttered. “I thought I was paying you back. You 
+shouldn’t ’ve given me that Chudley Cannon hat for 
+Christmas.” 
+
+“Forget it, all right?” said Harry. 
+
+Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, 
+glaring at it. Then he said, “I hate being poor.” 
+
+Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Neither of 
+them really knew what to say. 
+
+“It’s rubbish,” said Ron, still glaring down at his 
+potato. “I don’t blame Fred and George for trying to 
+make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a 
+niffler.” 
+
+“Well, we know what to get you next Christmas,” said 
+Hermione brightly. Then, when Ron continued to look 
+gloomy, she said, “Come on, Ron, it could be worse. 
+
+At least your fingers aren’t full of pus.” Hermione was 
+having a lot of difficulty managing her knife and fork, 
+her fingers were so stiff and swollen. “I hate that 
+Skeeter woman!” she burst out savagely. “I’ll get her 
+back for this if it’s the last thing I do!” 
+
+
+
+Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the 
+following week, and although she followed Hagrid’s 
+advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill- 
+wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the 
+Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at her for the 
+whole Hall to hear. Even those people who didn’t read 
+Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry- 
+Page | 603 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+Krum-Hermione triangle now. Harry was getting sick 
+of telling people that Hermione wasn’t his girlfriend. 
+
+“It’ll die down, though,” he told Hermione, “if we just 
+ignore it. ... People got bored with that stuff she wrote 
+about me last time — ” 
+
+“I want to know how she’s listening into private 
+conversations when she’s supposed to be banned 
+from the grounds!” said Hermione angrily. 
+
+Hermione hung back in their next Defense Against 
+the Dark Arts lesson to ask Professor Moody 
+something. The rest of the class was very eager to 
+leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of 
+hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small 
+injuries. Harry had such a bad case of Twitchy Ears, 
+he had to hold his hands clamped over them as he 
+walked away from the class. 
+
+“Well, Rita’s definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!” 
+Hermione panted five minutes later, catching up with 
+Harry and Ron in the entrance hall and pulling 
+Harry’s hand away from one of his wiggling ears so 
+that he could hear her. “Moody says he didn’t see her 
+anywhere near the judges’ table at the second task, or 
+anywhere near the lake!” 
+
+“Hermione, is there any point in telling you to drop 
+this?” said Ron. 
+
+“No!” said Hermione stubbornly. “I want to know how 
+she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found 
+out about Hagrid’s mum!” 
+
+“Maybe she had you bugged,” said Harry. 
+
+“Bugged?” said Ron blankly. “What ... put fleas on her 
+or something?” 
+
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+
+Harry started explaining about hidden microphones 
+and recording equipment. Ron was fascinated, but 
+Hermione interrupted them. 
+
+“Aren’t you two ever going to read Hogwarts, A 
+History?” 
+
+“What’s the point?” said Ron. “You know it by heart, 
+we can just ask you.” 
+
+“All those substitutes for magic Muggles use — 
+electricity, computers, and radar, and all those things 
+— they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there’s too 
+much magic in the air. No, Rita’s using magic to 
+eavesdrop, she must be. ... If I could just find out 
+what it is ... ooh, if it’s illegal, I’ll have her ...” 
+
+“Haven’t we got enough to worry about?” Ron asked 
+her. “Do we have to start a vendetta against Rita 
+Skeeter as well?” 
+
+“I’m not asking you to help!” Hermione snapped. “I’ll 
+do it on my own!” 
+
+She marched back up the marble staircase without a 
+backward glance. Harry was quite sure she was going 
+to the library. 
+
+“What’s the betting she comes back with a box of / 
+Hate Rita Skeeter badges?” said Ron. 
+
+Hermione, however, did not ask Harry and Ron to 
+help her pursue vengeance against Rita Skeeter, for 
+which they were both grateful, because their workload 
+was mounting ever higher in the days before the 
+Easter holidays. Harry frankly marveled at the fact 
+that Hermione could research magical methods of 
+eavesdropping as well as everything else they had to 
+do. He was working flat-out just to get through all 
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+
+their homework, though he made a point of sending 
+regular food packages up to the cave in the mountain 
+for Sirius; after last summer, Harry had not forgotten 
+what it felt like to be continually hungry. He enclosed 
+notes to Sirius, telling him that nothing out of the 
+ordinary had happened, and that they were still 
+waiting for an answer from Percy. 
+
+Hedwig didn’t return until the end of the Easter 
+holidays. Percy’s letter was enclosed in a package of 
+Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Both Harry’s 
+and Ron’s were the size of dragon eggs and full of 
+homemade toffee. Hermione’s, however, was smaller 
+than a chicken egg. Her face fell when she saw it. 
+
+“Your mum doesn’t read Witch Weekly, by any 
+chance, does she, Ron?” she asked quietly. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. 
+
+“Gets it for the recipes.” 
+
+Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg. 
+
+“Don’t you want to see what Percy’s written?” Harry 
+asked her hastily. 
+
+Percy’s letter was short and irritated. 
+
+As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. 
+
+Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending 
+in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven’t actually 
+seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own 
+superior’s handwriting. I have quite enough to do at 
+the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous 
+rumors. Please don’t bother me again unless it’s 
+something important. Happy Easter. 
+
+The start of the summer term would normally have 
+meant that Harry was training hard for the last 
+
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+Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it 
+was the third and final task in the Triwizard 
+Tournament for which he needed to prepare, but he 
+still didn’t know what he would have to do. Finally, in 
+the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held him 
+back in Transfiguration. 
+
+“You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at 
+nine o’clock, Potter,” she told him. “Mr. Bagman will 
+be there to tell the champions about the third task.” 
+
+So at half past eight that night, Harry left Ron and 
+Hermione in Gryffindor Tower and went downstairs. 
+As he crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from 
+the Hufflepuff common room. 
+
+“What d’you reckon it’s going to be?” he asked Harry 
+as they went together down the stone steps, out into 
+the cloudy night. “Fleur keeps going on about 
+underground tunnels; she reckons we’ve got to find 
+treasure.” 
+
+“That wouldn’t be too bad,” said Harry, thinking that 
+he would simply ask Hagrid for a niffler to do the job 
+for him. 
+
+They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch 
+stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and 
+walked out onto the field. 
+
+“What’ve they done to it?” Cedric said indignantly, 
+stopping dead. 
+
+The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It 
+looked as though somebody had been building long, 
+low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in 
+every direction. 
+
+
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+“They’re hedges!” said Harry, bending to examine the 
+nearest one. 
+
+
+
+“Hello there!” called a cheery voice. 
+
+Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field 
+with Krum and Fleur. Harry and Cedric made their 
+way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur 
+beamed at Harry as he came nearer. Her attitude 
+toward him had changed completely since he had 
+saved her sister from the lake. 
+
+“Well, what d’you think?” said Bagman happily as 
+Harry and Cedric climbed over the last hedge. 
+“Growing nicely, aren’t they? Give them a month and 
+Hagrid’ll have them twenty feet high. Don’t worry,” he 
+added, grinning, spotting the less-than-happy 
+expressions on Harry’s and Cedric’s faces, “you’ll have 
+your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is 
+over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we’re 
+making here?” 
+
+No one spoke for a moment. Then — 
+
+“Maze,” grunted Krum. 
+
+“That’s right!” said Bagman. “A maze. The third task’s 
+really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be 
+placed in the center of the maze. The first champion 
+to touch it will receive full marks.” 
+
+“We seemply ’ave to get through the maze?” said 
+Fleur. 
+
+“There will be obstacles,” said Bagman happily, 
+bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hagrid is providing 
+a number of creatures . . . then there will be spells that 
+must be broken ... all that sort of thing, you know. 
+Now, the champions who are leading on points will 
+Page | 608 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+get a head start into the maze.” Bagman grinned at 
+Harry and Cedric. “Then Mr. Krum will enter ... then 
+Miss Delacour. But you 11 all be in with a fighting 
+chance, depending how well you get past the 
+obstacles. Should be fun, eh?” 
+
+Harry, who knew only too well the kind of creatures 
+that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, 
+thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all. However, 
+he nodded politely like the other champions. 
+
+“Very well ... if you haven’t got any questions, we’ll go 
+back up to the castle, shall we, it’s a bit chilly. ...” 
+
+Bagman hurried alongside Harry as they began to 
+wend their way out of the growing maze. Harry had 
+the feeling that Bagman was going to start offering to 
+help him again, but just then, Krum tapped Harry on 
+the shoulder. 
+
+“Could I haff a vord?” 
+
+“Yeah, all right,” said Harry, slightly surprised. 
+
+“Vill you valk vith me?” 
+
+“Okay,” said Harry curiously. 
+
+Bagman looked slightly perturbed. 
+
+“I’ll wait for you, Harry, shall I?” 
+
+“No, it’s okay, Mr. Bagman,” said Harry, suppressing 
+a smile, “I think I can find the castle on my own, 
+thanks.” 
+
+Harry and Krum left the stadium together, but Krum 
+did not set a course for the Durmstrang ship. Instead, 
+he walked toward the forest. 
+
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+
+
+
+“What ’re we going this way for?” said Harry as they 
+passed Hagrid’s cabin and the illuminated 
+Beauxbatons carriage. 
+
+“Don’t vant to be overheard,” said Krum shortly. 
+
+When at last they had reached a quiet stretch of 
+ground a short way from the Beauxbatons horses’ 
+paddock, Krum stopped in the shade of the trees and 
+turned to face Harry. 
+
+“I vant to know,” he said, glowering, “vot there is 
+between you and Hermy-own-ninny.” 
+
+Harry, who from Krum’s secretive manner had 
+expected something much more serious than this, 
+stared up at Krum in amazement. 
+
+“Nothing,” he said. But Krum glowered at him, and 
+Harry, somehow struck anew by how tall Krum was, 
+elaborated. “We’re friends. She’s not my girlfriend and 
+she never has been. It’s just that Skeeter woman 
+making things up.” 
+
+“Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often,” said 
+Krum, looking suspiciously at Harry. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, “because we’re friends.” 
+
+He couldn’t quite believe he was having this 
+conversation with Viktor Krum, the famous 
+International Quidditch player. It was as though the 
+eighteen-year-old Krum thought he, Harry, was an 
+equal — a real rival — 
+
+“You haff never ... you haff not ...” 
+
+“No,” said Harry very firmly. 
+
+
+
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+
+Krum looked slightly happier. He stared at Harry for a 
+few seconds, then said, “You fly very veil. I vos 
+votching at the first task.” 
+
+“Thanks,” said Harry, grinning broadly and suddenly 
+feeling much taller himself. “I saw you at the 
+Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really 
+
+
+
+But something moved behind Krum in the trees, and 
+Harry, who had some experience of the sort of thing 
+that lurked in the forest, instinctively grabbed Krum’s 
+arm and pulled him around. 
+
+“Vot is it?” 
+
+Harry shook his head, staring at the place where he’d 
+seen movement. He slipped his hand inside his robes, 
+reaching for his wand. 
+
+Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. 
+For a moment, Harry didn’t recognize him ... then he 
+realized it was Mr. Crouch. 
+
+He looked as though he had been traveling for days. 
+The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his 
+face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with 
+exhaustion. His neat hair and mustache were both in 
+need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, 
+however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. 
+Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to 
+be talking to someone that he alone could see. He 
+reminded Harry vividly of an old tramp he had seen 
+once when out shopping with the Dursleys. That man 
+too had been conversing wildly with thin air; Aunt 
+Petunia had seized Dudley’s hand and pulled him 
+across the road to avoid him; Uncle Vernon had then 
+treated the family to a long rant about what he would 
+like to do with beggars and vagrants. 
+
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+
+
+
+“Vosn’t he a judge?” said Krum, staring at Mr. 
+
+Crouch. “Isn’t he vith your Ministry?” 
+
+Harry nodded, hesitated for a moment, then walked 
+slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at him, 
+but continued to talk to a nearby tree. 
+
+"... and when you’ve done that, Weatherby, send an 
+owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of 
+Durmstrang students who will be attending the 
+tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will 
+be twelve. ...” 
+
+“Mr. Crouch?” said Harry cautiously. 
+
+"... and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, 
+because she might want to up the number of 
+students she’s bringing, now Karkaroff’s made it a 
+round dozen ... do that, Weatherby, will you? Will 
+you? Will...” 
+
+Mr. Crouch’s eyes were bulging. He stood staring at 
+the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he 
+staggered sideways and fell to his knees. 
+
+“Mr. Crouch?” Harry said loudly. “Are you all right?” 
+
+Crouch’s eyes were rolling in his head. Harry looked 
+around at Krum, who had followed him into the trees, 
+and was looking down at Crouch in alarm. 
+
+“Vot is wrong with him?” 
+
+“No idea,” Harry muttered. “Listen, you’d better go 
+and get someone — ” 
+
+“Dumbledore!” gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out 
+and seized a handful of Harry’s robes, dragging him 
+
+
+
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+closer, though his eyes were staring over Harry’s 
+head. “I need ... see ... Dumbledore. ...” 
+
+“Okay,” said Harry, “if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can 
+go up to the — ” 
+
+“I’ve done ... stupid ... thing ...” Mr. Crouch breathed. 
+He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and 
+bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his 
+chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a 
+terrible effort. “Must ... tell ... Dumbledore ...” 
+
+“Get up, Mr. Crouch,” said Harry loudly and clearly. 
+“Get up, I’ll take you to Dumbledore!” 
+
+Mr. Crouch’s eyes rolled forward onto Harry. 
+
+“Who ... you?” he whispered. 
+
+“I’m a student at the school,” said Harry, looking 
+around at Krum for some help, but Krum was 
+hanging back, looking extremely nervous. 
+
+“You’re not ... his?” whispered Crouch, his mouth 
+sagging. 
+
+“No,” said Harry, without the faintest idea what 
+Crouch was talking about. 
+
+“Dumbledore ’s?” 
+
+“That’s right,” said Harry. 
+
+Crouch was pulling him closer; Harry tried to loosen 
+Crouch’s grip on his robes, but it was too powerful. 
+
+“Warn ... Dumbledore ...” 
+
+
+
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+
+“I’ll get Dumbledore if you let go of me,” said Harry. 
+“Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I’ll get him. ...” 
+
+“Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done 
+that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be 
+arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight 
+with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge.” 
+
+Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and 
+seemed completely unaware that Harry was there, 
+which surprised Harry so much he didn’t notice that 
+Crouch had released him. 
+
+“Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.s, 
+most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud 
+indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from 
+the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have 
+time to draft a response. ...” 
+
+“You stay here with him!” Harry said to Krum. “I’ll get 
+Dumbledore, I’ll be quicker, I know where his office is 
+
+
+
+“He is mad,” said Krum doubtfully, staring down at 
+Crouch, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently 
+convinced it was Percy. 
+
+“Just stay with him,” said Harry, starting to get up, 
+but his movement seemed to trigger another abrupt 
+change in Mr. Crouch, who seized him hard around 
+the knees and pulled Harry back to the ground. 
+
+“Don’t ... leave ... me!” he whispered, his eyes bulging 
+again. “I ... escaped . . . must warn . . . must tell . . . see 
+Dumbledore . . . my fault ... all my fault . . . Bertha . . . 
+dead ... all my fault . . . my son . . . my fault . . . tell 
+Dumbledore . . . Harry Potter . . . the Dark Lord . . . 
+stronger ... Harry Potter ...” 
+
+
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+
+“I’ll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!” 
+said Harry. He looked furiously around at Krum. 
+
+“Help me, will you?” 
+
+Looking extremely apprehensive, Krum moved 
+forward and squatted down next to Mr. Crouch. 
+
+“Just keep him here,” said Harry, pulling himself free 
+of Mr. Crouch. “I’ll be back with Dumbledore.” 
+
+“Hurry, von’t you?” Krum called after him as Harry 
+sprinted away from the forest and up through the 
+dark grounds. They were deserted; Bagman, Cedric, 
+and Fleur had disappeared. Harry tore up the stone 
+steps, through the oak front doors, and off up the 
+marble staircase, toward the second floor. 
+
+Five minutes later he was hurtling toward a stone 
+gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor. 
+
+“Sher — sherbet lemon!” he panted at it. 
+
+This was the password to the hidden staircase to 
+Dumbledore ’s office — or at least, it had been two 
+years ago. The password had evidently changed, 
+however, for the stone gargoyle did not spring to life 
+and jump aside, but stood frozen, glaring at Harry 
+malevolently. 
+
+“Move!” Harry shouted at it. “C’mon!” 
+
+But nothing at Hogwarts had ever moved just because 
+he shouted at it; he knew it was no good. He looked 
+up and down the dark corridor. Perhaps Dumbledore 
+was in the staffroom? He started running as fast as 
+he could toward the staircase — 
+
+“POTTER!” 
+
+
+
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+
+Harry skidded to a halt and looked around. Snape 
+had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind 
+the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind 
+him even as he beckoned Harry back toward him. 
+
+“What are you doing here, Potter?” 
+
+“I need to see Professor Dumbledore!” said Harry, 
+running back up the corridor and skidding to a 
+standstill in front of Snape instead. “It’s Mr. Crouch 
+... he’s just turned up ... he’s in the forest ... he’s 
+asking — ” 
+
+“What is this rubbish?” said Snape, his black eyes 
+glittering. “What are you talking about?” 
+
+“Mr. Crouch!” Harry shouted. “From the Ministry! 
+
+He’s ill or something — he’s in the forest, he wants to 
+see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to — ” 
+
+“The headmaster is busy, Potter,” said Snape, his thin 
+mouth curling into an unpleasant smile. 
+
+“I’ve got to tell Dumbledore!” Harry yelled. 
+
+“Didn’t you hear me, Potter?” 
+
+Harry could tell Snape was thoroughly enjoying 
+himself, denying Harry the thing he wanted when he 
+was so panicky. 
+
+“Look,” said Harry angrily, “Crouch isn’t right — he’s 
+— he’s out of his mind — he says he wants to warn — 
+
+
+
+The stone wall behind Snape slid open. Dumbledore 
+was standing there, wearing long green robes and a 
+mildly curious expression. “Is there a problem?” he 
+said, looking between Harry and Snape. 
+
+Page | 616 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+“Professor!” Harry said, sidestepping Snape before 
+Snape could speak, “Mr. Crouch is here — he’s down 
+in the forest, he wants to speak to you!” 
+
+Harry expected Dumbledore to ask questions, but to 
+his relief, Dumbledore did nothing of the sort. 
+
+“Lead the way,” he said promptly, and he swept off 
+along the corridor behind Harry, leaving Snape 
+standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as 
+ugly. 
+
+“What did Mr. Crouch say, Harry?” said Dumbledore 
+as they walked swiftly down the marble staircase. 
+
+“Said he wants to warn you ... said he’s done 
+something terrible ... he mentioned his son . . . and 
+Bertha Jorkins ... and — and Voldemort ... something 
+about Voldemort getting stronger. ...” 
+
+“Indeed,” said Dumbledore, and he quickened his 
+pace as they hurried out into the pitch-darkness. 
+
+“He’s not acting normally,” Harry said, hurrying along 
+beside Dumbledore. “He doesn’t seem to know where 
+he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley’s 
+there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see 
+you. ... I left him with Viktor Krum.” 
+
+“You did?” said Dumbledore sharply, and he began to 
+take longer strides still, so that Harry was running to 
+keep up. “Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. 
+Crouch?” 
+
+“No,” said Harry. “Krum and I were talking, Mr. 
+Bagman had just finished telling us about the third 
+task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr. Crouch 
+coming out of the forest — ” 
+
+
+
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+“Where are they?” said Dumbledore as the 
+Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness. 
+
+“Over here,” said Harry, moving in front of 
+Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. He 
+couldn’t hear Crouch’s voice anymore, but he knew 
+where he was going; it hadn’t been much past the 
+Beauxbatons carriage ... somewhere around here. ... 
+
+“Viktor?” Harry shouted. 
+
+No one answered. 
+
+“They were here,” Harry said to Dumbledore. “They 
+were definitely somewhere around here. ...” 
+
+“Lumos,” Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and 
+holding it up. 
+
+Its narrow beam traveled from black trunk to black 
+trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon 
+a pair of feet. 
+
+Harry and Dumbledore hurried forward. Krum was 
+sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be 
+unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. 
+Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of 
+his eyelids. 
+
+“Stunned,” he said softly. His half-moon glasses 
+glittered in the wandlight as he peered around at the 
+surrounding trees. 
+
+“Should I go and get someone?” said Harry. “Madam 
+Pomfrey?” 
+
+“No,” said Dumbledore swiftly. “Stay here.” 
+
+
+
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+He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the 
+direction of Hagrid ’s cabin. Harry saw something 
+silvery dart out of it and streak away through the 
+trees like a ghostly bird. Then Dumbledore bent over 
+Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, 
+“Renneruate.” 
+
+Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw 
+Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a 
+hand on his shoulder and made him lie still. 
+
+“He attacked me!” Krum muttered, putting a hand up 
+to his head. “The old madman attacked me! I vos 
+looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he 
+attacked from behind!” 
+
+“Lie still for a moment,” Dumbledore said. 
+
+The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and 
+Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his 
+heels. He was carrying his crossbow. 
+
+“Professor Dumbledore!” he said, his eyes widening. 
+“Harry — what the — ?” 
+
+“Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff,” said 
+Dumbledore. “His student has been attacked. When 
+you’ve done that, kindly alert Professor Moody — ” 
+
+“No need, Dumbledore,” said a wheezy growl. “I’m 
+here.” 
+
+Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, 
+his wand lit. 
+
+“Damn leg,” he said furiously. “Would’ve been here 
+quicker ... what’s happened? Snape said something 
+about Crouch — ” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Crouch?” said Hagrid blankly. 
+
+“Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!” said Dumbledore sharply. 
+
+“Oh yeah ... right y’are, Professor ...” said Hagrid, and 
+he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang 
+trotting after him. 
+
+“I don’t know where Barty Crouch is,” Dumbledore 
+told Moody, “but it is essential that we find him.” 
+
+“I’m onto it,” growled Moody, and he pulled out his 
+wand and limped off into the forest. 
+
+Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke again until they 
+heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang 
+returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. 
+He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked 
+pale and agitated. 
+
+“What is this?” he cried when he saw Krum on the 
+ground and Dumbledore and Harry beside him. 
+“What’s going on?” 
+
+“I vos attacked!” said Krum, sitting up now and 
+rubbing his head. “Mr. Crouch or votever his name — 
+
+
+
+“Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The 
+Triwizard judge?” 
+
+“Igor,” Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn 
+himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking 
+livid. 
+
+“Treachery!” he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. “It 
+is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured 
+me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is 
+not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into 
+
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+
+
+
+
+the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of 
+your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion 
+out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in 
+this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with 
+your talk of closer international wizarding links, of 
+rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences — 
+here’s what I think of you!” 
+
+Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore’s feet. 
+In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of 
+Karkaroff’s furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed 
+him against a nearby tree. 
+
+“Apologize!” Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for 
+breath, Hagrid’s massive fist at his throat, his feet 
+dangling in midair. 
+
+“Hagrid, no\” Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing. 
+
+Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the 
+tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk 
+and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and 
+leaves showered down upon his head. 
+
+“Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid,” 
+said Dumbledore sharply. 
+
+Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering 
+look. 
+
+“Maybe I’d better stay here, Headmaster. ...” 
+
+“You will take Harry back to school, Hagrid,” 
+Dumbledore repeated firmly. “Take him right up to 
+Gryffindor Tower. And Harry — I want you to stay 
+there. Anything you might want to do — any owls you 
+might want to send — they can wait until morning, do 
+you understand me?” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+“Er — yes,” said Harry, staring at him. How had 
+Dumbledore known that, at that very moment, he had 
+been thinking about sending Pigwidgeon straight to 
+Sirius, to tell him what had happened? 
+
+“Ill leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster,” Hagrid said, 
+staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still 
+sprawled at the foot of the tree, tangled in furs and 
+tree roots. “Stay, Fang. C’mon, Harry.” 
+
+They marched in silence past the Beauxbatons 
+carriage and up toward the castle. 
+
+“How dare he,” Hagrid growled as they strode past the 
+lake. “How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like 
+Dumbledore ’d do anythin’ like that. Like Dumbledore 
+wanted you in the tournament in the firs’ place. 
+Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more 
+worried than he’s bin lately. An’ you!” Hagrid 
+suddenly said angrily to Harry, who looked up at him, 
+taken aback. “What were yeh doin’, wanderin’ off with 
+ruddy Krum? He’s from Durmstrang, Harry! Coulda 
+jinxed yeh right there, couldn’ he? Hasn’ Moody 
+taught yeh nothin’? ’Magine lettin’ him lure yeh off on 
+yer own — ” 
+
+“Krum’s all right!” said Harry as they climbed the 
+steps into the entrance hall. “He wasn’t trying to jinx 
+me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione — ” 
+
+“I’ll be havin’ a few words with her, an’ all,” said 
+Hagrid grimly, stomping up the stairs. “The less you 
+lot ’ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh’ll 
+be. Yeh can’ trust any of ’em.” 
+
+“You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime,” 
+Harry said, annoyed. 
+
+
+
+Page | 622 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+“Don’ you talk ter me abou’ her!” said Hagrid, and he 
+looked quite frightening for a moment. “I’ve got her 
+number now! Tryin’ ter get back in me good books, 
+tryin’ ter get me ter tell her what’s cornin’ in the third 
+task. Ha! You can’ trust any of ’em!” 
+
+Hagrid was in such a bad mood, Harry was quite glad 
+to say good-bye to him in front of the Fat Lady. He 
+clambered through the portrait hole into the common 
+room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron 
+and Hermione were sitting, to tell them what had 
+happened. 
+
+
+
+Page | 623 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+z? 
+
+
+
+
+THE DREAM 
+
+“It comes down to this,” said Hermione, rubbing her 
+forehead. “Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or 
+somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor 
+wasn’t looking.” 
+
+“It must’ve been Crouch,” said Ron at once. “That’s 
+why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got 
+there. He’d done a runner.” 
+
+“I don’t think so,” said Harry, shaking his head. “He 
+seemed really weak — I don’t reckon he was up to 
+Disapparating or anything.” 
+
+“You can’t Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, 
+haven’t I told you enough times?” said Hermione. 
+
+“Okay ... how’s this for a theory,” said Ron excitedly. 
+“Krum attacked Crouch — no, wait for it — and then 
+Stunned himself!” 
+
+“And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?” said Hermione 
+coldly. 
+
+Page | 624 
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+
+
+“Oh yeah ...” 
+
+
+
+It was daybreak. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had crept 
+out of their dormitories very early and hurried up to 
+the Owlery together to send a note to Sirius. Now they 
+were standing looking out at the misty grounds. All 
+three of them were puffy-eyed and pale because they 
+had been talking late into the night about Mr. 
+
+Crouch. 
+
+“Just go through it again, Harry,” said Hermione. 
+“What did Mr. Crouch actually say?” 
+
+“I’ve told you, he wasn’t making much sense,” said 
+Harry. “He said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about 
+something. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, 
+and he seemed to think she was dead. He kept saying 
+stuff was his fault. ... He mentioned his son.” 
+
+“Well, that was his fault,” said Hermione testily. 
+
+“He was out of his mind,” said Harry. “Half the time 
+he seemed to think his wife and son were still alive, 
+and he kept talking to Percy about work and giving 
+him instructions.” 
+
+“And ... remind me what he said about You-Know- 
+Who?” said Ron tentatively. 
+
+“I’ve told you,” Harry repeated dully. “He said he’s 
+getting stronger.” 
+
+There was a pause. Then Ron said in a falsely 
+confident voice, “But he was out of his mind, like you 
+said, so half of it was probably just raving. ...” 
+
+“He was sanest when he was trying to talk about 
+Voldemort,” said Harry, and Ron winced at the sound 
+of the name. “He was having real trouble stringing 
+
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+
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+
+two words together, but that was when he seemed to 
+know where he was, and know what he wanted to do. 
+He just kept saying he had to see Dumbledore.” 
+
+Harry turned away from the window and stared up 
+into the rafters. The many perches were half-empty; 
+every now and then, another owl would swoop in 
+through one of the windows, returning from its night’s 
+hunting with a mouse in its beak. 
+
+“If Snape hadn’t held me up,” Harry said bitterly, “we 
+might’ve got there in time. The headmaster is busy, 
+Potter ... what’s this rubbish, Potter?’ Why couldn’t he 
+have just got out of the way?” 
+
+“Maybe he didn’t want you to get there!” said Ron 
+quickly. “Maybe — hang on — how fast d’you reckon 
+he could’ve gotten down to the forest? D’you reckon 
+he could’ve beaten you and Dumbledore there?” 
+
+“Not unless he can turn himself into a bat or 
+something,” said Harry. 
+
+“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Ron muttered. 
+
+“We need to see Professor Moody,” said Hermione. 
+
+“We need to find out whether he found Mr. Crouch.” 
+
+“If he had the Marauder’s Map on him, it would’ve 
+been easy,” said Harry. 
+
+“Unless Crouch was already outside the grounds,” 
+said Ron, “because it only shows up to the 
+boundaries, doesn’t — ” 
+
+“Shh!” said Hermione suddenly. 
+
+
+
+Page | 626 
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+
+Somebody was climbing the steps up to the Owlery. 
+Harry could hear two voices arguing, coming closer 
+and closer. 
+
+“ — that’s blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of 
+trouble for that — ” 
+
+“ — we’ve tried being polite; it’s time to play dirty, like 
+him. He wouldn’t like the Ministry of Magic knowing 
+what he did — ” 
+
+“I’m telling you, if you put that in writing, it’s 
+blackmail!” 
+
+“Yeah, and you won’t be complaining if we get a nice 
+fat payoff, will you?” 
+
+The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came 
+over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, 
+Ron, and Hermione. 
+
+“What’re you doing here?” Ron and Fred said at the 
+same time. 
+
+“Sending a letter,” said Harry and George in unison. 
+“What, at this time?” said Hermione and Fred. 
+
+Fred grinned. 
+
+“Fine — we won’t ask you what you’re doing, if you 
+don’t ask us,” he said. 
+
+He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Harry 
+glanced at it, but Fred, whether accidentally or on 
+purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was 
+covered. 
+
+
+
+Page | 627 
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+
+
+
+“Well, don’t let us hold you up,” Fred said, making a 
+mock bow and pointing at the door. 
+
+Ron didn’t move. “Who’re you blackmailing?” he said. 
+
+The grin vanished from Fred’s face. Harry saw George 
+half glance at Fred, before smiling at Ron. 
+
+“Don’t be stupid, I was only joking,” he said easily. 
+
+“Didn’t sound like that,” said Ron. 
+
+Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said 
+abruptly, “I’ve told you before, Ron, keep your nose 
+out if you like it the shape it is. Can’t see why you 
+would, but — ” 
+
+“It’s my business if you’re blackmailing someone,” 
+said Ron. “George’s right, you could end up in serious 
+trouble for that.” 
+
+“Told you, I was joking,” said George. He walked over 
+to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began 
+attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. “You’re 
+starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, 
+you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you’ll be made a 
+prefect.” 
+
+“No, I won’t!” said Ron hotly. 
+
+George carried the barn owl over to the window and it 
+took off. George turned around and grinned at Ron. 
+
+“Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you 
+later.” 
+
+He and Fred left the Owlery. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione stared at one another. 
+
+
+
+Page | 628 
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+
+
+
+“You don’t think they know something about all this, 
+do you?” Hermione whispered. “About Crouch and 
+everything?” 
+
+“No,” said Harry. “If it was something that serious, 
+they’d tell someone. They’d tell Dumbledore.” 
+
+Ron, however, was looking uncomfortable. 
+
+“What’s the matter?” Hermione asked him. 
+
+“Well ...” said Ron slowly, “I dunno if they would. 
+They’re ... they’re obsessed with making money lately, 
+
+I noticed it when I was hanging around with them — 
+when — you know — ” 
+
+“We weren’t talking.” Harry finished the sentence for 
+him. “Yeah, but blackmail ...” 
+
+“It’s this joke shop idea they’ve got,” said Ron. “I 
+thought they were only saying it to annoy Mum, but 
+they really mean it, they want to start one. They’ve 
+only got a year left at Hogwarts, they keep going on 
+about how it’s time to think about their future, and 
+Dad can’t help them, and they need gold to get 
+started.” 
+
+Hermione was looking uncomfortable now. 
+
+“Yes, but ... they wouldn’t do anything against the law 
+to get gold.” 
+
+“Wouldn’t they?” said Ron, looking skeptical. “I dunno 
+... they don’t exactly mind breaking rules, do they?” 
+
+“Yes, but this is the law,” said Hermione, looking 
+scared. “This isn’t some silly school rule. ... They’ll get 
+a lot more than detention for blackmail! Ron ... maybe 
+you’d better tell Percy. ...” 
+
+Page | 629 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+“Are you mad?” said Ron. “Tell Percy? He’d probably 
+do a Crouch and turn them in.” He stared at the 
+window through which Fred and Georges owl had 
+departed, then said, “Come on, let’s get some 
+breakfast.” 
+
+“D’you think it’s too early to go and see Professor 
+Moody?” Hermione said as they went down the spiral 
+staircase. 
+
+“Yes,” said Harry. “He’d probably blast us through the 
+door if we wake him at the crack of dawn; he’ll think 
+we’re trying to attack him while he’s asleep. Let’s give 
+it till break.” 
+
+History of Magic had rarely gone so slowly. Harry kept 
+checking Ron’s watch, having finally discarded his 
+own, but Ron’s was moving so slowly he could have 
+sworn it had stopped working too. All three of them 
+were so tired they could happily have put their heads 
+down on the desks and slept; even Hermione wasn’t 
+taking her usual notes, but was sitting with her head 
+on her hand, gazing at Professor Binns with her eyes 
+out of focus. 
+
+When the bell finally rang, they hurried out into the 
+corridors toward the Dark Arts classroom and found 
+Professor Moody leaving it. He looked as tired as they 
+felt. The eyelid of his normal eye was drooping, giving 
+his face an even more lopsided appearance than 
+usual. 
+
+“Professor Moody?” Harry called as they made their 
+way toward him through the crowd. 
+
+“Hello, Potter,” growled Moody. His magical eye 
+followed a couple of passing first years, who sped up, 
+looking nervous; it rolled into the back of Moody’s 
+
+
+
+Page | 630 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+head and watched them around the corner before he 
+spoke again. 
+
+
+
+“Come in here.” 
+
+He stood back to let them into his empty classroom, 
+limped in after them, and closed the door. 
+
+“Did you find him?” Harry asked without preamble. 
+“Mr. Crouch?” 
+
+“No,” said Moody. He moved over to his desk, sat 
+down, stretched out his wooden leg with a slight 
+groan, and pulled out his hip flask. 
+
+“Did you use the map?” Harry said. 
+
+“Of course,” said Moody, taking a swig from his flask. 
+“Took a leaf out of your book, Potter. Summoned it 
+from my office into the forest. He wasn’t anywhere on 
+there.” 
+
+“So he did Disapparate?” said Ron. 
+
+“You can’t Disapparate on the grounds, Ron\” said 
+Hermione. “There are other ways he could have 
+disappeared, aren’t there, Professor?” 
+
+Moody’s magical eye quivered as it rested on 
+Hermione. “You’re another one who might think about 
+a career as an Auror,” he told her. “Mind works the 
+right way, Granger.” 
+
+Hermione flushed pink with pleasure. 
+
+“Well, he wasn’t invisible,” said Harry. “The map 
+shows invisible people. He must’ve left the grounds, 
+then.” 
+
+Page | 631 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“But under his own steam?” said Hermione eagerly, 
+
+“or because someone made him?” 
+
+“Yeah, someone could’ve — could’ve pulled him onto a 
+broom and flown off with him, couldn’t they?” said 
+Ron quickly, looking hopefully at Moody as if he too 
+wanted to be told he had the makings of an Auror. 
+
+“We can’t rule out kidnap,” growled Moody. 
+
+“So,” said Ron, “d’you reckon he’s somewhere in 
+Hogsmeade?” 
+
+“Could be anywhere,” said Moody, shaking his head. 
+“Only thing we know for sure is that he’s not here.” 
+
+He yawned widely, so that his scars stretched, and 
+his lopsided mouth revealed a number of missing 
+teeth. Then he said, “Now, Dumbledore’s told me you 
+three fancy yourselves as investigators, but there’s 
+nothing you can do for Crouch. The Ministry’ll be 
+looking for him now, Dumbledore’s notified them. 
+Potter, you just keep your mind on the third task.” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. “Oh yeah ...” 
+
+He hadn’t given the maze a single thought since he’d 
+left it with Krum the previous night. 
+
+“Should be right up your street, this one,” said 
+Moody, looking up at Harry and scratching his 
+scarred and stubbly chin. “From what Dumbledore’s 
+said, you’ve managed to get through stuff like this 
+plenty of times. Broke your way through a series of 
+obstacles guarding the Sorcerer’s Stone in your first 
+year, didn’t you?” 
+
+“We helped,” Ron said quickly. “Me and Hermione 
+helped.” 
+
+Page | 632 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+Moody grinned. 
+
+
+
+“Well, help him practice for this one, and I’ll be very 
+surprised if he doesn’t win,” said Moody. “In the 
+meantime ... constant vigilance, Potter. Constant 
+vigilance.” He took another long draw from his hip 
+flask, and his magical eye swiveled onto the window. 
+The topmost sail of the Durmstrang ship was visible 
+through it. 
+
+“You two,” counseled Moody, his normal eye on Ron 
+and Hermione, “you stick close to Potter, all right? I’m 
+keeping an eye on things, but all the same ... you can 
+never have too many eyes out.” 
+
+
+
+•k k k 
+
+
+
+Sirius sent their owl back the very next morning. It 
+fluttered down beside Harry at the same moment that 
+a tawny owl landed in front of Hermione, clutching a 
+copy of the Daily Prophet in its beak. She took the 
+newspaper, scanned the first few pages, said, “Ha! 
+
+She hasn’t got wind of Crouch!” then joined Ron and 
+Harry in reading what Sirius had to say on the 
+mysterious events of the night before last. 
+
+Harry — what do you think you are playing at, 
+walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want 
+you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to 
+go walking with anyone else at night. There is 
+somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to 
+me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing 
+Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from 
+them in the dark. You could have been killed. 
+
+Your name didn’t get into the Goblet of Fire by 
+accident. If someone’s trying to attack you, they’re on 
+
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+
+
+
+
+their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do 
+not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm 
+yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and 
+Disarming. A few hexes wouldn’t go amiss either. 
+There’s nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your 
+head down and look after yourself. I’m waiting for your 
+letter giving me your word you won’t stray out-of- 
+bounds again. 
+
+Sirius 
+
+“Who’s he, to lecture me about being out-of-bounds?” 
+said Harry in mild indignation as he folded up Sirius’s 
+letter and put it inside his robes. “After all the stuff he 
+did at school!” 
+
+“He’s worried about you!” said Hermione sharply. 
+
+“Just like Moody and Hagrid! So listen to them!” 
+
+“No one’s tried to attack me all year,” said Harry. “No 
+one’s done anything to me at all — ” 
+
+“Except put your name in the Goblet of Fire,” said 
+Hermione. “And they must’ve done that for a reason, 
+Harry. Snuffles is right. Maybe they’ve been biding 
+their time. Maybe this is the task they’re going to get 
+you.” 
+
+“Look,” said Harry impatiently, “let’s say Sirius is 
+right, and someone Stunned Krum to kidnap Crouch. 
+Well, they would’ve been in the trees near us, 
+wouldn’t they? But they waited till I was out of the 
+way until they acted, didn’t they? So it doesn’t look 
+like I’m their target, does it?” 
+
+“They couldn’t have made it look like an accident if 
+they’d murdered you in the forest!” said Hermione. 
+“But if you die during a task — ” 
+
+
+
+Page | 634 
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+
+
+“They didn’t care about attacking Krum, did they?” 
+said Harry. “Why didn’t they just polish me off at the 
+same time? They could’ve made it look like Krum and 
+I had a duel or something.” 
+
+“Harry, I don’t understand it either,” said Hermione 
+desperately. “I just know there are a lot of odd things 
+going on, and I don’t like it. ... Moody’s right — Sirius 
+is right — you’ve got to get in training for the third 
+task, straight away. And you make sure you write 
+back to Sirius and promise him you’re not going to go 
+sneaking off alone again.” 
+
+The Hogwarts grounds never looked more inviting 
+than when Harry had to stay indoors. For the next 
+few days he spent all of his free time either in the 
+library with Hermione and Ron, looking up hexes, or 
+else in empty classrooms, which they sneaked into to 
+practice. Harry was concentrating on the Stunning 
+Spell, which he had never used before. The trouble 
+was that practicing it involved certain sacrifices on 
+Ron’s and Hermione ’s part. 
+
+“Can’t we kidnap Mrs. Norris?” Ron suggested on 
+Monday lunchtime as he lay flat on his back in the 
+middle of their Charms classroom, having just been 
+Stunned and reawoken by Harry for the fifth time in a 
+row. “Let’s Stun her for a bit. Or you could use 
+Dobby, Harry, I bet he’d do anything to help you. I’m 
+not complaining or anything” — he got gingerly to his 
+feet, rubbing his backside — “but I’m aching all over. 
+
+
+
+“Well, you keep missing the cushions, don’t you!” said 
+Hermione impatiently, rearranging the pile of 
+cushions they had used for the Banishing Spell, 
+which Flitwick had left in a cabinet. “Just try and fall 
+backward!” 
+
+
+
+Page | 635 
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+
+
+“Once you’re Stunned, you can’t aim too well, 
+Hermione!” said Ron angrily. “Why don’t you take a 
+turn?” 
+
+“Well, I think Harry’s got it now, anyway,” said 
+Hermione hastily. “And we don’t have to worry about 
+Disarming, because he’s been able to do that for ages. 
+... I think we ought to start on some of these hexes 
+this evening.” 
+
+She looked down the list they had made in the 
+library. 
+
+“I like the look of this one,” she said, “this 
+Impediment Curse. Should slow down anything that’s 
+trying to attack you, Harry. We’ll start with that one.” 
+
+The bell rang. They hastily shoved the cushions back 
+into Flitwick’s cupboard and slipped out of the 
+classroom. 
+
+“See you at dinner!” said Hermione, and she set off for 
+Arithmancy, while Harry and Ron headed toward 
+North Tower, and Divination. Broad strips of dazzling 
+gold sunlight fell across the corridor from the high 
+windows. The sky outside was so brightly blue it 
+looked as though it had been enameled. 
+
+“It’s going to be boiling in Trelawney’s room, she never 
+puts out that fire,” said Ron as they started up the 
+staircase toward the silver ladder and the trapdoor. 
+
+He was quite right. The dimly lit room was 
+swelteringly hot. The fumes from the perfumed fire 
+were heavier than ever. Harry’s head swam as he 
+made his way over to one of the curtained windows. 
+While Professor Trelawney was looking the other way, 
+disentangling her shawl from a lamp, he opened it an 
+inch or so and settled back in his chintz armchair, so 
+Page | 636 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+that a soft breeze played across his face. It was 
+extremely comfortable. 
+
+“My dears,” said Professor Trelawney, sitting down in 
+her winged armchair in front of the class and peering 
+around at them all with her strangely enlarged eyes, 
+“we have almost finished our work on planetary 
+divination. Today, however, will be an excellent 
+opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is 
+placed most interestingly at the present time. If you 
+will all look this way, I will dim the lights. ...” 
+
+She waved her wand and the lamps went out. The fire 
+was the only source of light now. Professor Trelawney 
+bent down and lifted, from under her chair, a 
+miniature model of the solar system, contained within 
+a glass dome. It was a beautiful thing; each of the 
+moons glimmered in place around the nine planets 
+and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air 
+beneath the glass. Harry watched lazily as Professor 
+Trelawney began to point out the fascinating angle 
+Mars was making to Neptune. The heavily perfumed 
+fumes washed over him, and the breeze from the 
+window played across his face. He could hear an 
+insect humming gently somewhere behind the 
+curtain. His eyelids began to droop. ... 
+
+He was riding on the back of an eagle owl, soaring 
+through the clear blue sky toward an old, ivy-covered 
+house set high on a hillside. Lower and lower they 
+flew, the wind blowing pleasantly in Harry’s face, until 
+they reached a dark and broken window in the upper 
+story of the house and entered. Now they were flying 
+along a gloomy passageway, to a room at the very end 
+. . . through the door they went, into a dark room 
+whose windows were boarded up. ... 
+
+Harry had left the owl’s back ... he was watching, 
+now, as it fluttered across the room, into a chair with 
+
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+its back to him. ... There were two dark shapes on the 
+floor beside the chair . . . both of them were stirring. . . . 
+
+One was a huge snake . . . the other was a man ... a 
+short, balding man, a man with watery eyes and a 
+pointed nose ... he was wheezing and sobbing on the 
+hearth rug. . . . 
+
+“You are in luck, Wormtail,” said a cold, high-pitched 
+voice from the depths of the chair in which the owl 
+had landed. “You are very fortunate indeed. Your 
+blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead.” 
+
+“My Lord!” gasped the man on the floor. “My Lord, I 
+am ... 1 am so pleased ... and so sorry. ...” 
+
+“Nagini,” said the cold voice, “you are out of luck. 1 
+will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all ... but 
+never mind, never mind . . . there is still Harry Potter. 
+
+
+
+The snake hissed. Harry could see its tongue 
+fluttering. 
+
+“Now, Wormtail,” said the cold voice, “perhaps one 
+more little reminder why I will not tolerate another 
+blunder from you. ...” 
+
+“My Lord ... no ... I beg you ...” 
+
+The tip of a wand emerged from around the back of 
+the chair, ft was pointing at Wormtail. 
+
+“Crucio\” said the cold voice. 
+
+Wormtail screamed, screamed as though every nerve 
+in his body were on fire, the screaming filled Harry’s 
+ears as the scar on his forehead seared with pain; he 
+
+
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+was yelling too. ... Voldemort would hear him, would 
+know he was there. ... 
+
+
+
+“Harry! Harry\” 
+
+Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of 
+Professor Trelawney’s room with his hands over his 
+face. His scar was still burning so badly that his eyes 
+were watering. The pain had been real. The whole 
+class was standing around him, and Ron was 
+kneeling next to him, looking terrified. 
+
+“You all right?” he said. 
+
+“Of course he isn’t!” said Professor Trelawney, looking 
+thoroughly excited. Her great eyes loomed over Harry, 
+gazing at him. “What was it, Potter? A premonition? 
+An apparition? What did you see?” 
+
+“Nothing,” Harry lied. He sat up. He could feel himself 
+shaking. He couldn’t stop himself from looking 
+around, into the shadows behind him; Voldemort’s 
+voice had sounded so close. ... 
+
+“You were clutching your scar!” said Professor 
+Trelawney. “You were rolling on the floor, clutching 
+your scar! Come now, Potter, I have experience in 
+these matters!” 
+
+Harry looked up at her. 
+
+“I need to go to the hospital wing, I think,” he said. 
+“Bad headache.” 
+
+“My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the 
+extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!” said 
+Professor Trelawney “If you leave now, you may lose 
+the opportunity to see further than you have ever — ” 
+
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+“I don’t want to see anything except a headache cure,” 
+said Harry. 
+
+He stood up. The class backed away. They all looked 
+unnerved. 
+
+“See you later,” Harry muttered to Ron, and he picked 
+up his bag and headed for the trapdoor, ignoring 
+Professor Trelawney, who was wearing an expression 
+of great frustration, as though she had just been 
+denied a real treat. 
+
+When Harry reached the bottom of her stepladder, 
+however, he did not set off for the hospital wing. He 
+had no intention whatsoever of going there. Sirius 
+had told him what to do if his scar hurt him again, 
+and Harry was going to follow his advice: He was 
+going straight to Dumbledore’s office. He marched 
+down the corridors, thinking about what he had seen 
+in the dream ... it had been as vivid as the one that 
+had awoken him on Privet Drive. ... He ran over the 
+details in his mind, trying to make sure he could 
+remember them. ... He had heard Voldemort accusing 
+Wormtail of making a blunder ... but the owl had 
+brought good news, the blunder had been repaired, 
+somebody was dead ... so Wormtail was not going to 
+be fed to the snake ... he, Harry, was going to be fed 
+to it instead. ... 
+
+Harry had walked right past the stone gargoyle 
+guarding the entrance to Dumbledore’s office without 
+noticing. He blinked, looked around, realized what he 
+had done, and retraced his steps, stopping in front of 
+it. Then he remembered that he didn’t know the 
+password. 
+
+“Sherbet lemon?” he tried tentatively. 
+
+The gargoyle did not move. 
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+“Okay,” said Harry, staring at it, “Pear Drop. Er — 
+Licorice Wand. Fizzing Whizbee. Drooble’s Best 
+Blowing Gum. Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans ... oh 
+no, he doesn’t like them, does he? ... oh just open, 
+can’t you?” he said angrily. “I really need to see him, 
+it’s urgent!” 
+
+The gargoyle remained immovable. 
+
+Harry kicked it, achieving nothing but an excruciating 
+pain in his big toe. 
+
+“Chocolate Frog!” he yelled angrily, standing on one 
+leg. “Sugar Quill! Cockroach Cluster!” 
+
+The gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. Harry 
+blinked. 
+
+“Cockroach Cluster?” he said, amazed. “I was only 
+joking. ...” 
+
+He hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped 
+onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved 
+slowly upward as the doors closed behind him, taking 
+him up to a polished oak door with a brass door 
+knocker. 
+
+He could hear voices from inside the office. He 
+stepped off the moving staircase and hesitated, 
+listening. 
+
+“Dumbledore, I’m afraid I don’t see the connection, 
+don’t see it at all!” It was the voice of the Minister of 
+Magic, Cornelius Fudge. “Ludo says Bertha’s perfectly 
+capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have 
+expected to have found her by now, but all the same, 
+we’ve no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at 
+all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty 
+Crouch’s!” 
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+“And what do you thinks happened to Barty Crouch, 
+Minister?” said Moody’s growling voice. 
+
+“I see two possibilities, Alastor,” said Fudge. “Either 
+Crouch has finally cracked — more than likely, I’m 
+sure you’ll agree, given his personal history — lost his 
+mind, and gone wandering off somewhere — ” 
+
+“He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, 
+Cornelius,” said Dumbledore calmly. 
+
+“Or else — well ...” Fudge sounded embarrassed. 
+
+“Well, I’ll reserve judgment until after I’ve seen the 
+place where he was found, but you say it was just 
+past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, you 
+know what that woman is?” 
+
+“I consider her to be a very able headmistress — and 
+an excellent dancer,” said Dumbledore quietly. 
+
+“Dumbledore, come!” said Fudge angrily. “Don’t you 
+think you might be prejudiced in her favor because of 
+Hagrid? They don’t all turn out harmless — if, indeed, 
+you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster 
+fixation he’s got — ” 
+
+“I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid,” 
+said Dumbledore, just as calmly. “I think it possible 
+that it is you who are prejudiced, Cornelius.” 
+
+“Can we wrap up this discussion?” growled Moody. 
+
+“Yes, yes, let’s go down to the grounds, then,” said 
+Fudge impatiently. 
+
+“No, it’s not that,” said Moody, “it’s just that Potter 
+wants a word with you, Dumbledore. He’s just outside 
+the door.” 
+
+
+
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+THE PENSIEVE 
+
+The door of the office opened. 
+
+“Hello, Potter,” said Moody. “Come in, then.” 
+
+Harry walked inside. He had been inside 
+Dumbledore’s office once before; it was a very 
+beautiful, circular room, lined with pictures of 
+previous headmasters and headmistresses of 
+Hogwarts, all of whom were fast asleep, their chests 
+rising and falling gently. 
+
+Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore’s 
+desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding 
+his lime-green bowler hat. 
+
+“Harry!” said Fudge jovially, moving forward. “How are 
+you?” 
+
+“Fine,” Harry lied. 
+
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+“We were just talking about the night when Mr. 
+Crouch turned up on the grounds,” said Fudge. “It 
+was you who found him, was it not?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Harry. Then, feeling it was pointless to 
+pretend that he hadn’t overheard what they had been 
+saying, he added, “I didn’t see Madame Maxime 
+anywhere, though, and she’d have a job hiding, 
+wouldn’t she?” 
+
+Dumbledore smiled at Harry behind Fudge’s back, his 
+eyes twinkling. 
+
+“Yes, well,” said Fudge, looking embarrassed, “we’re 
+about to go for a short walk on the grounds, Harry, if 
+you’ll excuse us ... perhaps if you just go back to your 
+class — ” 
+
+“I wanted to talk to you, Professor,” Harry said 
+quickly, looking at Dumbledore, who gave him a swift, 
+searching look. 
+
+“Wait here for me, Harry,” he said. “Our examination 
+of the grounds will not take long.” 
+
+They trooped out in silence past him and closed the 
+door. After a minute or so, Harry heard the clunks of 
+Moody’s wooden leg growing fainter in the corridor 
+below. He looked around. 
+
+“Hello, Fawkes,” he said. 
+
+Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix, was 
+standing on his golden perch beside the door. The 
+size of a swan, with magnificent scarlet-and-gold 
+plumage, he swished his long tail and blinked 
+benignly at Harry. 
+
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+Harry sat down in a chair in front of Dumbledore’s 
+desk. For several minutes, he sat and watched the old 
+headmasters and headmistresses snoozing in their 
+frames, thinking about what he had just heard, and 
+running his fingers over his scar. It had stopped 
+hurting now. 
+
+He felt much calmer, somehow, now that he was in 
+Dumbledore’s office, knowing he would shortly be 
+telling him about the dream. Harry looked up at the 
+walls behind the desk. The patched and ragged 
+Sorting Hat was standing on a shelf. A glass case next 
+to it held a magnificent silver sword with large rubies 
+set into the hilt, which Harry recognized as the one he 
+himself had pulled out of the Sorting Hat in his 
+second year. The sword had once belonged to Godric 
+Gryffindor, founder of Harry’s House. He was gazing 
+at it, remembering how it had come to his aid when 
+he had thought all hope was lost, when he noticed a 
+patch of silvery light, dancing and shimmering on the 
+glass case. He looked around for the source of the 
+light and saw a sliver of silver-white shining brightly 
+from within a black cabinet behind him, whose door 
+had not been closed properly. Harry hesitated, 
+glanced at Fawkes, then got up, walked across the 
+office, and pulled open the cabinet door. 
+
+A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings 
+around the edge: runes and symbols that Harry did 
+not recognize. The silvery light was coming from the 
+basin’s contents, which were like nothing Harry had 
+ever seen before. He could not tell whether the 
+substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish 
+silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it 
+became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, 
+like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked 
+like light made liquid — or like wind made solid — 
+Harry couldn’t make up his mind. 
+
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+He wanted to touch it, to find out what it felt like, but 
+nearly four years’ experience of the magical world told 
+him that sticking his hand into a bowl full of some 
+unknown substance was a very stupid thing to do. He 
+therefore pulled his wand out of the inside of his 
+robes, cast a nervous look around the office, looked 
+back at the contents of the basin, and prodded them. 
+
+The surface of the silvery stuff inside the basin began 
+to swirl very fast. 
+
+Harry bent closer, his head right inside the cabinet. 
+The silvery substance had become transparent; it 
+looked like glass. He looked down into it, expecting to 
+see the stone bottom of the basin — and saw instead 
+an enormous room below the surface of the 
+mysterious substance, a room into which he seemed 
+to be looking through a circular window in the ceiling. 
+
+The room was dimly lit; he thought it might even be 
+underground, for there were no windows, merely 
+torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated 
+the walls of Hogwarts. Lowering his face so that his 
+nose was a mere inch away from the glassy 
+substance, Harry saw that rows and rows of witches 
+and wizards were seated around every wall on what 
+seemed to be benches rising in levels. An empty chair 
+stood in the very center of the room. There was 
+something about the chair that gave Harry an 
+ominous feeling. Chains encircled the arms of it, as 
+though its occupants were usually tied to it. 
+
+Where was this place? It surely wasn’t Hogwarts; he 
+had never seen a room like that here in the castle. 
+Moreover, the crowd in the mysterious room at the 
+bottom of the basin was comprised of adults, and 
+Harry knew there were not nearly that many teachers 
+at Hogwarts. They seemed, he thought, to be waiting 
+for something; even though he could only see the tops 
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+of their hats, all of their faces seemed to be pointing 
+in one direction, and none of them were talking to one 
+another. 
+
+The basin being circular, and the room he was 
+observing square, Harry could not make out what was 
+going on in the corners of it. He leaned even closer, 
+tilting his head, trying to see . . . 
+
+The tip of his nose touched the strange substance 
+into which he was staring. 
+
+Dumbledore’s office gave an almighty lurch — Harry 
+was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the 
+substance inside the basin — 
+
+But his head did not hit the stone bottom. He was 
+falling through something icy-cold and black; it was 
+like being sucked into a dark whirlpool — 
+
+And suddenly, Harry found himself sitting on a bench 
+at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench 
+raised high above the others. He looked up at the 
+high stone ceiling, expecting to see the circular 
+window through which he had just been staring, but 
+there was nothing there but dark, solid stone. 
+
+Breathing hard and fast, Harry looked around him. 
+Not one of the witches and wizards in the room (and 
+there were at least two hundred of them) was looking 
+at him. Not one of them seemed to have noticed that a 
+fourteen-year- old boy had just dropped from the 
+ceiling into their midst. Harry turned to the wizard 
+next to him on the bench and uttered a loud cry of 
+surprise that reverberated around the silent room. 
+
+He was sitting right next to Albus Dumbledore. 
+
+
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+“Professor!” Harry said in a kind of strangled whisper. 
+“I’m sorry — I didn’t mean to — I was just looking at 
+that basin in your cabinet — I — where are we?” 
+
+But Dumbledore didn’t move or speak. He ignored 
+Harry completely. Like every other wizard on the 
+benches, he was staring into the far corner of the 
+room, where there was a door. 
+
+Harry gazed, nonplussed, at Dumbledore, then 
+around at the silently watchful crowd, then back at 
+Dumbledore. And then it dawned on him. ... 
+
+Once before, Harry had found himself somewhere that 
+nobody could see or hear him. That time, he had 
+fallen through a page in an enchanted diary, right 
+into somebody else’s memory ... and unless he was 
+very much mistaken, something of the sort had 
+happened again. ... 
+
+Harry raised his right hand, hesitated, and then 
+waved it energetically in front of Dumbledore ’s face. 
+Dumbledore did not blink, look around at Harry, or 
+indeed move at all. And that, in Harry’s opinion, 
+settled the matter. Dumbledore wouldn’t ignore him 
+like that. He was inside a memory, and this was not 
+the present-day Dumbledore. Yet it couldn’t be that 
+long ago . . . the Dumbledore sitting next to him now 
+was silver-haired, just like the present-day 
+Dumbledore. But what was this place? What were all 
+these wizards waiting for? 
+
+Harry looked around more carefully. The room, as he 
+had suspected when observing it from above, was 
+almost certainly underground — more of a dungeon 
+than a room, he thought. There was a bleak and 
+forbidding air about the place; there were no pictures 
+on the walls, no decorations at all; just these serried 
+rows of benches, rising in levels all around the room, 
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+all positioned so that they had a clear view of that 
+chair with the chains on its arms. 
+
+Before Harry could reach any conclusions about the 
+place in which they were, he heard footsteps. The 
+door in the corner of the dungeon opened and three 
+people entered — or at least one man, flanked by two 
+dementors. 
+
+Harry’s insides went cold. The dementors — tall, 
+hooded creatures whose faces were concealed — were 
+gliding slowly toward the chair in the center of the 
+room, each grasping one of the man’s arms with their 
+dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between 
+them looked as though he was about to faint, and 
+Harry couldn’t blame him ... he knew the dementors 
+could not touch him inside a memory, but he 
+remembered their power only too well. The watching 
+crowd recoiled slightly as the dementors placed the 
+man in the chained chair and glided back out of the 
+room. The door swung shut behind them. 
+
+Harry looked down at the man now sitting in the 
+chair and saw that it was Karkaroff. 
+
+Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger; 
+his hair and goatee were black. He was not dressed in 
+sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was 
+shaking. Even as Harry watched, the chains on the 
+arms of the chair glowed suddenly gold and snaked 
+their way up Karkaroff’s arms, binding him there. 
+
+“Igor Karkaroff,” said a curt voice to Harry’s left. 
+
+Harry looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing 
+up in the middle of the bench beside him. Crouch’s 
+hair was dark, his face was much less lined, he 
+looked fit and alert. “You have been brought from 
+Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. 
+
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+You have given us to understand that you have 
+important information for us.” 
+
+Karkaroff straightened himself as best he could, 
+tightly bound to the chair. 
+
+“I have, sir,” he said, and although his voice was very 
+scared, Harry could still hear the familiar unctuous 
+note in it. “I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish 
+to help. I — I know that the Ministry is trying to — to 
+round up the last of the Dark Lord’s supporters. I am 
+eager to assist in any way I can. ...” 
+
+There was a murmur around the benches. Some of 
+the wizards and witches were surveying Karkaroff 
+with interest, others with pronounced mistrust. Then 
+Harry heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledore’s 
+other side, a familiar, growling voice saying, “Filth.” 
+
+Harry leaned forward so that he could see past 
+Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting there — 
+except that there was a very noticeable difference in 
+his appearance. He did not have his magical eye, but 
+two normal ones. Both were looking down upon 
+Karkaroff, and both were narrowed in intense dislike. 
+
+“Crouch is going to let him out,” Moody breathed 
+quietly to Dumbledore. “He’s done a deal with him. 
+Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch 
+is going to let him go if he’s got enough new names. 
+Let’s hear his information, I say, and throw him 
+straight back to the dementors.” 
+
+Dumbledore made a small noise of dissent through 
+his long, crooked nose. 
+
+“Ah, I was forgetting ... you don’t like the dementors, 
+do you, Albus?” said Moody with a sardonic smile. 
+
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+“No,” said Dumbledore calmly, “I’m afraid I don’t. I 
+have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with 
+such creatures.” 
+
+“But for filth like this ...” Moody said softly. 
+
+“You say you have names for us, Karkaroff,” said Mr. 
+Crouch. “Let us hear them, please.” 
+
+“You must understand,” said Karkaroff hurriedly, 
+
+“that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in 
+the greatest secrecy. . . . He preferred that we — I 
+mean to say, his supporters — and I regret now, very 
+deeply, that I ever counted myself among them — ” 
+
+“Get on with it,” sneered Moody. 
+
+“ — we never knew the names of every one of our 
+fellows — He alone knew exactly who we all were — ” 
+
+“Which was a wise move, wasn’t it, as it prevented 
+someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them 
+in,” muttered Moody. 
+
+“Yet you say you have some names for us?” said Mr. 
+Crouch. 
+
+“I — I do,” said Karkaroff breathlessly. “And these 
+were important supporters, mark you. People I saw 
+with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this 
+information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce 
+him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can 
+barely — ” 
+
+“These names are?” said Mr. Crouch sharply. 
+Karkaroff drew a deep breath. 
+
+
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+“There was Antonin Dolohov,” he said. “I — I saw him 
+torture countless Muggles and — and non-supporters 
+of the Dark Lord.” 
+
+
+
+“And helped him do it,” murmured Moody. 
+
+“We have already apprehended Dolohov,” said 
+Crouch. “He was caught shortly after yourself.” 
+
+“Indeed?” said Karkaroff, his eyes widening. “I — I am 
+delighted to hear it!” 
+
+But he didn’t look it. Harry could tell that this news 
+had come as a real blow to him. One of his names 
+was worthless. 
+
+“Any others?” said Crouch coldly. 
+
+“Why, yes ... there was Rosier,” said Karkaroff 
+hurriedly. “Evan Rosier.” 
+
+“Rosier is dead,” said Crouch. “He was caught shortly 
+after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than 
+come quietly and was killed in the struggle.” 
+
+“Took a bit of me with him, though,” whispered 
+Moody to Harry’s right. Harry looked around at him 
+once more, and saw him indicating the large chunk 
+out of his nose to Dumbledore. 
+
+“No — no more than Rosier deserved!” said Karkaroff, 
+a real note of panic in his voice now. Harry could see 
+that he was starting to worry that none of his 
+information would be of any use to the Ministry. 
+Karkaroff’s eyes darted toward the door in the corner, 
+behind which the dementors undoubtedly still stood, 
+waiting. 
+
+“Any more?” said Crouch. 
+
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+
+“Yes!” said Karkaroff. “There was Travers — he helped 
+murder the McKinnons! Mulciber — he specialized in 
+the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do 
+horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed 
+He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from 
+inside the Ministry itself!” 
+
+Harry could tell that, this time, Karkaroff had struck 
+gold. The watching crowd was all murmuring 
+together. 
+
+“Rookwood?” said Mr. Crouch, nodding to a witch 
+sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her 
+piece of parchment. “Augustus Rookwood of the 
+Department of Mysteries?” 
+
+“The very same,” said Karkaroff eagerly. “I believe he 
+used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside the 
+Ministry and out, to collect information — ” 
+
+“But Travers and Mulciber we have,” said Mr. Crouch. 
+“Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be 
+returned to Azkaban while we decide — ” 
+
+“Not yet!” cried Karkaroff, looking quite desperate. 
+“Wait, I have more!” 
+
+Harry could see him sweating in the torchlight, his 
+white skin contrasting strongly with the black of his 
+hair and beard. 
+
+“Snape!” he shouted. “Severus Snape!” 
+
+“Snape has been cleared by this council,” said Crouch 
+disdainfully. “He has been vouched for by Albus 
+Dumbledore.” 
+
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+“No!” shouted Karkaroff, straining at the chains that 
+bound him to the chair. “I assure you! Severus Snape 
+is a Death Eater!” 
+
+Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. 
+
+“I have given evidence already on this matter,” he said 
+calmly. “Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. 
+However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort’s 
+downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. 
+He is now no more a Death Eater than I am.” 
+
+Harry turned to look at Mad-Eye Moody. He was 
+wearing a look of deep skepticism behind 
+Dumbledore ’s back. 
+
+“Very well, Karkaroff,” Crouch said coldly, “you have 
+been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will 
+return to Azkaban in the meantime. ...” 
+
+Mr. Crouch’s voice faded. Harry looked around; the 
+dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of 
+smoke; everything was fading; he could see only his 
+own body — all else was swirling darkness. ... 
+
+And then, the dungeon returned. Harry was sitting in 
+a different seat, still on the highest bench, but now to 
+the left side of Mr. Crouch. The atmosphere seemed 
+quite different: relaxed, even cheerful. The witches 
+and wizards all around the walls were talking to one 
+another, almost as though they were at some sort of 
+sporting event. Harry noticed a witch halfway up the 
+rows of benches opposite. She had short blonde hair, 
+was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end 
+of an acid-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a 
+younger Rita Skeeter. Harry looked around; 
+Dumbledore was sitting beside him again, wearing 
+different robes. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and 
+
+
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+somehow fiercer, gaunter. ... Harry understood. It was 
+a different memory, a different day ... a different trial. 
+
+The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman 
+walked into the room. 
+
+This was not, however, a Ludo Bagman gone to seed, 
+but a Ludo Bagman who was clearly at the height of 
+his Quidditch-playing fitness. His nose wasn’t broken 
+now; he was tall and lean and muscular. Bagman 
+looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, 
+but it did not bind him there as it had bound 
+Karkaroff, and Bagman, perhaps taking heart from 
+this, glanced around at the watching crowd, waved at 
+a couple of them, and managed a small smile. 
+
+“Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front 
+of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges 
+relating to the activities of the Death Eaters,” said Mr. 
+Crouch. “We have heard the evidence against you, 
+and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have 
+anything to add to your testimony before we 
+pronounce judgment?” 
+
+Harry couldn’t believe his ears. Ludo Bagman, a 
+Death Eater? 
+
+“Only,” said Bagman, smiling awkwardly, “well — I 
+know I’ve been a bit of an idiot — ” 
+
+One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding 
+seats smiled indulgently. Mr. Crouch did not appear 
+to share their feelings. He was staring down at Ludo 
+Bagman with an expression of the utmost severity 
+and dislike. 
+
+“You never spoke a truer word, boy,” someone 
+muttered dryly to Dumbledore behind Harry. He 
+looked around and saw Moody sitting there again. “If I 
+
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+didn’t know he’d always been dim, I’d have said some 
+of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain. 
+
+
+
+“Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing 
+information to Lord Voldemort’s supporters,” said Mr. 
+Crouch. “For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment 
+in Azkaban lasting no less than — ” 
+
+But there was an angry outcry from the surrounding 
+benches. Several of the witches and wizards around 
+the walls stood up, shaking their heads, and even 
+their fists, at Mr. Crouch. 
+
+“But I’ve told you, I had no idea!” Bagman called 
+earnestly over the crowd’s babble, his round blue eyes 
+widening. “None at all! Old Rookwood was a friend of 
+my dad’s ... never crossed my mind he was in with 
+You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information 
+for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting 
+me a job in the Ministry later on ... once my 
+Quidditch days are over, you know ... I mean, I can’t 
+keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, 
+can I?” 
+
+There were titters from the crowd. 
+
+“It will be put to the vote,” said Mr. Crouch coldly. He 
+turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. “The 
+jury will please raise their hands ... those in favor of 
+imprisonment ...” 
+
+Harry looked toward the right-hand side of the 
+dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of 
+the witches and wizards around the walls began to 
+clap. One of the witches on the jury stood up. 
+
+“Yes?” barked Crouch. 
+
+
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+“We’d just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his 
+splendid performance for England in the Quidditch 
+match against Turkey last Saturday,” the witch said 
+breathlessly. 
+
+Mr. Crouch looked furious. The dungeon was ringing 
+with applause now. Bagman got to his feet and 
+bowed, beaming. 
+
+“Despicable,” Mr. Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting 
+down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. 
+“Rookwood get him a job indeed. ... The day Ludo 
+Bagman joins us will be a sad day indeed for the 
+Ministry. ...” 
+
+And the dungeon dissolved again. When it had 
+returned, Harry looked around. He and Dumbledore 
+were still sitting beside Mr. Crouch, but the 
+atmosphere could not have been more different. There 
+was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a 
+frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. 
+Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her 
+mouth with trembling hands. Harry looked up at 
+Crouch and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer 
+than ever before. A nerve was twitching in his temple. 
+
+“Bring them in,” he said, and his voice echoed 
+through the silent dungeon. 
+
+The door in the corner opened yet again. Six 
+dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four 
+people. Harry saw the people in the crowd turn to 
+look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to 
+one another. 
+
+The dementors placed each of the four people in the 
+four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the 
+dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared 
+blankly up at Crouch; a thinner and more nervous- 
+
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+looking man, whose eyes were darting around the 
+crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and 
+heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained 
+chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late 
+teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was 
+shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his 
+freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside 
+Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her 
+seat, whimpering into her handkerchief. 
+
+Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in 
+front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face. 
+
+“You have been brought here before the Council of 
+Magical Law,” he said clearly, “so that we may pass 
+judgment on you, for a crime so heinous — ” 
+
+“Father,” said the boy with the straw-colored hair. 
+“Father ... please ...” 
+
+“ — that we have rarely heard the like of it within this 
+court,” said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning 
+out his son’s voice. “We have heard the evidence 
+against you. The four of you stand accused of 
+capturing an Auror — Frank Longbottom — and 
+subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him 
+to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your 
+exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named — ” 
+
+“Father, I didn’t!” shrieked the boy in chains below. “I 
+didn’t, I swear it, Father, don’t send me back to the 
+dementors — ” 
+
+“You are further accused,” bellowed Mr. Crouch, “of 
+using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom’s 
+wife, when he would not give you information. You 
+planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to 
+power, and to resume the lives of violence you 
+
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+presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the 
+jury — ” 
+
+“Mother!” screamed the boy below, and the wispy little 
+witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward 
+and forward. “Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn’t do it, 
+it wasn’t me!” 
+
+“I now ask the jury,” shouted Mr. Crouch, “to raise 
+their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes 
+deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!” 
+
+In unison, the witches and wizards along the right- 
+hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The 
+crowd around the walls began to clap as it had for 
+Bagman, their faces full of savage triumph. The boy 
+began to scream. 
+
+“No! Mother, no! I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t 
+know! Don’t send me there, don’t let him!” 
+
+The dementors were gliding back into the room. The 
+boys’ three companions rose quietly from their seats; 
+the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at 
+Crouch and called, “The Dark Lord will rise again, 
+Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will 
+rise again and will come for us, he will reward us 
+beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were 
+faithful! We alone tried to find him!” 
+
+But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, 
+even though Harry could see their cold, draining 
+power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, 
+some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of 
+the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle. 
+
+“I’m your son!” he screamed up at Crouch. “I’m your 
+son!” 
+
+
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+“You are no son of mine!” bellowed Mr. Crouch, his 
+eyes bulging suddenly. “I have no son!” 
+
+The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and 
+slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch 
+appeared not to have noticed. 
+
+“Take them away!” Crouch roared at the dementors, 
+spit flying from his mouth. “Take them away, and 
+may they rot there!” 
+
+“Father! Father, I wasn’t involved! No! No! Father, 
+please!” 
+
+“I think, Harry, it is time to return to my office,” said 
+a quiet voice in Harry’s ear. 
+
+Harry started. He looked around. Then he looked on 
+his other side. 
+
+There was an Albus Dumbledore sitting on his right, 
+watching Crouch’s son being dragged away by the 
+dementors — and there was an Albus Dumbledore on 
+his left, looking right at him. 
+
+“Come,” said the Dumbledore on his left, and he put 
+his hand under Harry’s elbow. Harry felt himself 
+rising into the air; the dungeon dissolved around him; 
+for a moment, all was blackness, and then he felt as 
+though he had done a slow-motion somersault, 
+suddenly landing flat on his feet, in what seemed like 
+the dazzling light of Dumbledore ’s sunlit office. The 
+stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of 
+him, and Albus Dumbledore was standing beside 
+him. 
+
+“Professor,” Harry gasped, “I know I shouldn’t’ve — I 
+didn’t mean — the cabinet door was sort of open and 
+
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+“I quite understand,” said Dumbledore. He lifted the 
+basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it upon the 
+polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He 
+motioned for Harry to sit down opposite him. 
+
+Harry did so, staring at the stone basin. The contents 
+had returned to their original, silvery-white state, 
+swirling and rippling beneath his gaze. 
+
+“What is it?” Harry asked shakily. 
+
+“This? It is called a Pensieve,” said Dumbledore. “I 
+sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, 
+that I simply have too many thoughts and memories 
+crammed into my mind.” 
+
+“Er,” said Harry, who couldn’t truthfully say that he 
+had ever felt anything of the sort. 
+
+“At these times,” said Dumbledore, indicating the 
+stone basin, “I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons 
+the excess thoughts from one’s mind, pours them into 
+the basin, and examines them at one’s leisure. It 
+becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you 
+understand, when they are in this form.” 
+
+“You mean . . . that stuff’s your thoughts?” Harry said, 
+staring at the swirling white substance in the basin. 
+
+“Certainly,” said Dumbledore. “Let me show you.” 
+
+Dumbledore drew his wand out of the inside of his 
+robes and placed the tip into his own silvery hair, 
+near his temple. When he took the wand away, hair 
+seemed to be clinging to it — but then Harry saw that 
+it was in fact a glistening strand of the same strange 
+silvery-white substance that filled the Pensieve. 
+Dumbledore added this fresh thought to the basin, 
+and Harry, astonished, saw his own face swimming 
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+around the surface of the bowl. Dumbledore placed 
+his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and 
+swirled it, rather as a gold prospector would pan for 
+fragments of gold . . . and Harry saw his own face 
+change smoothly into Snape’s, who opened his mouth 
+and spoke to the ceiling, his voice echoing slightly. 
+
+“It’s coming back ... Karkaroff’s too ... stronger and 
+clearer than ever ...” 
+
+“A connection I could have made without assistance,” 
+Dumbledore sighed, “but never mind.” He peered over 
+the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry, who was 
+gaping at Snape’s face, which was continuing to swirl 
+around the bowl. “I was using the Pensieve when Mr. 
+Fudge arrived for our meeting and put it away rather 
+hastily. Undoubtedly I did not fasten the cabinet door 
+properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your 
+attention.” 
+
+“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. 
+
+Dumbledore shook his head. “Curiosity is not a sin,” 
+he said. “But we should exercise caution with our 
+curiosity ... yes, indeed ...” 
+
+Frowning slightly, he prodded the thoughts within the 
+basin with the tip of his wand. Instantly, a figure rose 
+out of it, a plump, scowling girl of about sixteen, who 
+began to revolve slowly, with her feet still in the basin. 
+She took no notice whatsoever of Harry or Professor 
+Dumbledore. When she spoke, her voice echoed as 
+Snape’s had done, as though it were coming from the 
+depths of the stone basin. “He put a hex on me, 
+Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, 
+sir. I only said I’d seen him kissing Florence behind 
+the greenhouses last Thursday. ...” 
+
+
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+“But why, Bertha,” said Dumbledore sadly, looking up 
+at the now silently revolving girl, “why did you have to 
+follow him in the first place?” 
+
+“Bertha?” Harry whispered, looking up at her. “Is that 
+— was that Bertha Jorkins?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore, prodding the thoughts in the 
+basin again; Bertha sank back into them, and they 
+became silvery and opaque once more. “That was 
+Bertha as I remember her at school.” 
+
+The silvery light from the Pensieve illuminated 
+Dumbledore’s face, and it struck Harry suddenly how 
+very old he was looking. He knew, of course, that 
+Dumbledore was getting on in years, but somehow he 
+never really thought of Dumbledore as an old man. 
+
+“So, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Before you got 
+lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me 
+something.” 
+
+“Yes,” said Harry. “Professor — I was in Divination 
+just now, and — er — I fell asleep.” 
+
+He hesitated here, wondering if a reprimand was 
+coming, but Dumbledore merely said, “Quite 
+understandable. Continue.” 
+
+“Well, I had a dream,” said Harry. “A dream about 
+Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail ... you 
+know who Wormtail — ” 
+
+“I do know,” said Dumbledore promptly. “Please 
+continue.” 
+
+“Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said 
+something like, Wormtail’s blunder had been 
+repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, 
+
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+Wormtail wouldn’t be fed to the snake — there was a 
+snake beside his chair. He said — he said he’d be 
+feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus 
+Curse on Wormtail — and my scar hurt,” Harry said. 
+“It woke me up, it hurt so badly.” 
+
+Dumbledore merely looked at him. 
+
+“Er — that’s all,” said Harry. 
+
+“I see,” said Dumbledore quietly. “I see. Now, has your 
+scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the 
+time it woke you up over the summer?” 
+
+“No, I — how did you know it woke me up over the 
+summer?” said Harry, astonished. 
+
+“You are not Sirius’s only correspondent,” said 
+Dumbledore. “I have also been in contact with him 
+ever since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I who 
+suggested the mountainside cave as the safest place 
+for him to stay.” 
+
+Dumbledore got up and began walking up and down 
+behind his desk. Every now and then, he placed his 
+wand tip to his temple, removed another shining 
+silver thought, and added it to the Pensieve. The 
+thoughts inside began to swirl so fast that Harry 
+couldn’t make out anything clearly: It was merely a 
+blur of color. 
+
+“Professor?” he said quietly, after a couple of minutes. 
+
+Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked at Harry. 
+
+“My apologies,” he said quietly. He sat back down at 
+his desk. 
+
+“D’you — d’you know why my scar’s hurting me?” 
+
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+Dumbledore looked very intently at Harry for a 
+moment, and then said, “I have a theory, no more 
+than that. ... It is my belief that your scar hurts both 
+when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is 
+feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred.” 
+
+“But ... why?” 
+
+“Because you and he are connected by the curse that 
+failed,” said Dumbledore. “That is no ordinary scar.” 
+
+“So you think . . . that dream . . . did it really happen?” 
+
+“It is possible,” said Dumbledore. “I would say — 
+probable. Harry — did you see Voldemort?” 
+
+“No,” said Harry. “Just the back of his chair. But — 
+there wouldn’t have been anything to see, would 
+there? I mean, he hasn’t got a body, has he? But ... 
+but then how could he have held the wand?” Harry 
+said slowly. 
+
+“How indeed?” muttered Dumbledore. “How indeed 
+
+
+
+Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke for a while. 
+Dumbledore was gazing across the room, and, every 
+now and then, placing his wand tip to his temple and 
+adding another shining silver thought to the seething 
+mass within the Pensieve. 
+
+“Professor,” Harry said at last, “do you think he’s 
+getting stronger?” 
+
+“Voldemort?” said Dumbledore, looking at Harry over 
+the Pensieve. It was the characteristic, piercing look 
+Dumbledore had given him on other occasions, and 
+always made Harry feel as though Dumbledore were 
+seeing right through him in a way that even Moody’s 
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+magical eye could not. “Once again, Harry, I can only 
+give you my suspicions.” 
+
+Dumbledore sighed again, and he looked older, and 
+wearier, than ever. 
+
+“The years of Voldemort’s ascent to power,” he said, 
+“were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins 
+has vanished without a trace in the place where 
+Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch 
+too has disappeared ... within these very grounds. 
+
+And there was a third disappearance, one which the 
+Ministry, I regret to say, do not consider of any 
+importance, for it concerns a Muggle. His name was 
+Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort’s 
+father grew up, and he has not been seen since last 
+August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, 
+unlike most of my Ministry friends.” 
+
+Dumbledore looked very seriously at Harry. 
+
+“These disappearances seem to me to be linked. The 
+Ministry disagrees — as you may have heard, while 
+waiting outside my office.” 
+
+Harry nodded. Silence fell between them again, 
+Dumbledore extracting thoughts every now and then. 
+Harry felt as though he ought to go, but his curiosity 
+held him in his chair. 
+
+“Professor?” he said again. 
+
+“Yes, Harry?” said Dumbledore. 
+
+“Er . . . could I ask you about . . . that court thing I was 
+in ... in the Pensieve?” 
+
+
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+“You could,” said Dumbledore heavily. “I attended it 
+many times, but some trials come back to me more 
+clearly than others ... particularly now. ...” 
+
+“You know — you know the trial you found me in? 
+
+The one with Crouch’s son? Well ... were they talking 
+about Neville’s parents?” 
+
+Dumbledore gave Harry a very sharp look. “Has 
+Neville never told you why he has been brought up by 
+his grandmother?” he said. 
+
+Harry shook his head, wondering, as he did so, how 
+he could have failed to ask Neville this, in almost four 
+years of knowing him. 
+
+“Yes, they were talking about Neville’s parents,” said 
+Dumbledore. “His father, Frank, was an Auror just 
+like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured 
+for information about Voldemort’s whereabouts after 
+he lost his powers, as you heard.” 
+
+“So they’re dead?” said Harry quietly. 
+
+“No,” said Dumbledore, his voice full of a bitterness 
+Harry had never heard there before. “They are insane. 
+They are both in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical 
+Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, 
+with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do 
+not recognize him.” 
+
+Harry sat there, horror-struck. He had never known 
+... never, in four years, bothered to find out ... 
+
+“The Longbottoms were very popular,” said 
+Dumbledore. “The attacks on them came after 
+Voldemort’s fall from power, just when everyone 
+thought they were safe. Those attacks caused a wave 
+of fury such as I have never known. The Ministry was 
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+under great pressure to catch those who had done it. 
+Unfortunately, the Longbottoms’ evidence was — 
+given their condition — none too reliable.” 
+
+“Then Mr. Crouch’s son might not have been 
+involved?” said Harry slowly. 
+
+Dumbledore shook his head. 
+
+“As to that, I have no idea.” 
+
+Harry sat in silence once more, watching the contents 
+of the Pensieve swirl. There were two more questions 
+he was burning to ask . . . but they concerned the guilt 
+of living people. ... 
+
+“Er,” he said, “Mr. Bagman ...” 
+
+"... has never been accused of any Dark activity 
+since,” said Dumbledore calmly. 
+
+“Right,” said Harry hastily, staring at the contents of 
+the Pensieve again, which were swirling more slowly 
+now that Dumbledore had stopped adding thoughts. 
+“And ... er ...” 
+
+But the Pensieve seemed to be asking his question for 
+him. Snape’s face was swimming on the surface 
+again. Dumbledore glanced down into it, and then up 
+at Harry. 
+
+“No more has Professor Snape,” he said. 
+
+Harry looked into Dumbledore ’s light blue eyes, and 
+the thing he really wanted to know spilled out of his 
+mouth before he could stop it. 
+
+“What made you think he’d really stopped supporting 
+Voldemort, Professor?” 
+
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+Dumbledore held Harry’s gaze for a few seconds, and 
+then said, “That, Harry, is a matter between Professor 
+Snape and myself.” 
+
+Harry knew that the interview was over; Dumbledore 
+did not look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone 
+that told Harry it was time to go. He stood up, and so 
+did Dumbledore. 
+
+“Harry,” he said as Harry reached the door. “Please do 
+not speak about Neville’s parents to anybody else. He 
+has the right to let people know, when he is ready.” 
+
+“Yes, Professor,” said Harry, turning to go. 
+
+“And — ” 
+
+Harry looked back. Dumbledore was standing over 
+the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by its silvery 
+spots of light, looking older than ever. He stared at 
+Harry for a moment, and then said, “Good luck with 
+the third task.” 
+
+
+
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+THE THIRD TASK 
+
+“Dumbledore reckons You- Know- Who’s getting 
+stronger again as well?” Ron whispered. 
+
+Everything Harry had seen in the Pensieve, nearly 
+everything Dumbledore had told and shown him 
+afterward, he had now shared with Ron and 
+Hermione — and, of course, with Sirius, to whom 
+Harry had sent an owl the moment he had left 
+Dumbledore’s office. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat 
+up late in the common room once again that night, 
+talking it all over until Harry’s mind was reeling, until 
+he understood what Dumbledore had meant about a 
+head becoming so full of thoughts that it would have 
+been a relief to siphon them off. 
+
+Ron stared into the common room fire. Harry thought 
+he saw Ron shiver slightly, even though the evening 
+was warm. 
+
+“And he trusts Snape?” Ron said. “He really trusts 
+Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?” 
+
+
+
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+“Yes,” said Harry. 
+
+
+
+Hermione had not spoken for ten minutes. She was 
+sitting with her forehead in her hands, staring at her 
+knees. Harry thought she too looked as though she 
+could have done with a Pensieve. 
+
+“Rita Skeeter,” she muttered finally. 
+
+“How can you be worrying about her now?” said Ron, 
+in utter disbelief. 
+
+“I’m not worrying about her,” Hermione said to her 
+knees. “I’m just thinking ... remember what she said 
+to me in the Three Broomsticks? ‘I know things about 
+Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl.’ This 
+is what she meant, isn’t it? She reported his trial, she 
+knew he’d passed information to the Death Eaters. 
+And Winky too, remember ... ‘Ludo Bagman’s a bad 
+wizard.’ Mr. Crouch would have been furious he got 
+off, he would have talked about it at home.” 
+
+“Yeah, but Bagman didn’t pass information on 
+purpose, did he?” 
+
+Hermione shrugged. 
+
+“And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked 
+Crouch?” Ron said, turning back to Harry. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, “but he’s only saying that because 
+Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage.” 
+
+“We never thought of her, did we?” said Ron slowly. 
+“Mind you, she’s definitely got giant blood, and she 
+doesn’t want to admit it — ” 
+
+“Of course she doesn’t,” said Hermione sharply, 
+looking up. “Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita 
+
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+found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping 
+to conclusions about her, just because she’s part 
+giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I’d probably 
+say I had big bones if I knew that’s what I’d get for 
+telling the truth.” 
+
+Hermione looked at her watch. “We haven’t done any 
+practicing!” she said, looking shocked. “We were going 
+to do the Impediment Curse! We’ll have to really get 
+down to it tomorrow! Come on, Harry, you need to get 
+some sleep.” 
+
+Harry and Ron went slowly upstairs to their 
+dormitory. As Harry pulled on his pajamas, he looked 
+over at Neville’s bed. True to his word to Dumbledore, 
+he had not told Ron and Hermione about Neville’s 
+parents. As Harry took off his glasses and climbed 
+into his four-poster, he imagined how it must feel to 
+have parents still living but unable to recognize you. 
+He often got sympathy from strangers for being an 
+orphan, but as he listened to Neville’s snores, he 
+thought that Neville deserved it more than he did. 
+Lying in the darkness, Harry felt a rush of anger and 
+hate toward the people who had tortured Mr. and 
+Mrs. Longbottom. ... He remembered the jeers of the 
+crowd as Crouch’s son and his companions had been 
+dragged from the court by the dementors. ... He 
+understood how they had felt. ... Then he 
+remembered the milk-white face of the screaming boy 
+and realized with a jolt that he had died a year later. 
+
+
+
+It was Voldemort, Harry thought, staring up at the 
+canopy of his bed in the darkness, it all came back to 
+Voldemort. ... He was the one who had torn these 
+families apart, who had ruined all these lives. ... 
+
+Ron and Hermione were supposed to be studying for 
+their exams, which would finish on the day of the 
+
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+
+
+
+third task, but they were putting most of their efforts 
+into helping Harry prepare. 
+
+“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione said shortly when 
+Harry pointed this out to them and said he didn’t 
+mind practicing on his own for a while, “at least we’ll 
+get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We’d 
+never have found out about all these hexes in class.” 
+
+“Good training for when we’re all Aurors,” said Ron 
+excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a 
+wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it 
+stop dead in midair. 
+
+The mood in the castle as they entered June became 
+excited and tense again. Everyone was looking 
+forward to the third task, which would take place a 
+week before the end of term. Harry was practicing 
+hexes at every available moment. He felt more 
+confident about this task than either of the others. 
+Difficult and dangerous though it would undoubtedly 
+be, Moody was right: Harry had managed to find his 
+way past monstrous creatures and enchanted 
+barriers before now, and this time he had some 
+notice, some chance to prepare himself for what lay 
+ahead. 
+
+Tired of walking in on Harry, Hermione, and Ron all 
+over the school, Professor McGonagall had given them 
+permission to use the empty Transfiguration 
+classroom at lunchtimes. Harry had soon mastered 
+the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and 
+obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, which would 
+enable him to blast solid objects out of his way; and 
+the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione’s 
+that would make his wand point due north, therefore 
+enabling him to check whether he was going in the 
+right direction within the maze. He was still having 
+trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was 
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+
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+
+supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around 
+himself that deflected minor curses; Hermione 
+managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs 
+Jinx, and Harry wobbled around the room for ten 
+minutes afterward before she had looked up the 
+counter-jinx. 
+
+“You’re still doing really well, though,” Hermione said 
+encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off 
+those spells they had already learned. “Some of these 
+are bound to come in handy.” 
+
+“Come and look at this,” said Ron, who was standing 
+by the window. He was staring down onto the 
+grounds. “What’s Malfoy doing?” 
+
+Harry and Hermione went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe, and 
+Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. 
+Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; 
+both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up 
+to his mouth and speaking into it. 
+
+“He looks like he’s using a walkie-talkie,” said Harry 
+curiously. 
+
+“He can’t be,” said Hermione, “I’ve told you, those 
+sorts of things don’t work around Hogwarts. Come on, 
+Harry,” she added briskly, turning away from the 
+window and moving back into the middle of the room, 
+“let’s try that Shield Charm again.” 
+
+
+
+Sirius was sending daily owls now. Like Hermione, he 
+seemed to want to concentrate on getting Harry 
+through the last task before they concerned 
+themselves with anything else. He reminded Harry in 
+every letter that whatever might be going on outside 
+
+
+
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+the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry’s responsibility, 
+nor was it within his power to influence it. 
+
+
+
+If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, 
+my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to 
+lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore’s 
+protection, but all the same, take no risks : Concentrate 
+on getting through that maze safely, and then we can 
+turn our attention to other matters. 
+
+Harry’s nerves mounted as June the twenty-fourth 
+drew closer, but they were not as bad as those he had 
+felt before the first and second tasks. For one thing, 
+he was confident that, this time, he had done 
+everything in his power to prepare for the task. For 
+another, this was the final hurdle, and however well 
+or badly he did, the tournament would at last be over, 
+which would be an enormous relief. 
+
+Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor 
+table on the morning of the third task. The post owls 
+appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from 
+Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over 
+and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but 
+Harry appreciated it all the same. A screech owl 
+arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of 
+the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, 
+glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of 
+pumpkin juice all over it. 
+
+“What?” said Harry and Ron together, staring at her. 
+
+“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly, trying to shove the 
+paper out of sight, but Ron grabbed it. He stared at 
+the headline and said, “No way. Not today. That old 
+cow.” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. “Rita Skeeter again?” 
+
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+
+“No,” said Ron, and just like Hermione, he attempted 
+to push the paper out of sight. 
+
+
+
+“It’s about me, isn’t it?” said Harry. 
+
+“No,” said Ron, in an entirely unconvincing tone. 
+
+But before Harry could demand to see the paper, 
+Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the 
+Slytherin table. 
+
+“Hey, Potter! Potteri How’s your head? You feeling all 
+right? Sure you’re not going to go berserk on us?” 
+
+Malfoy was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too. 
+Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, 
+twisting in their seats to see Harry’s reaction. 
+
+“Let me see it,” Harry said to Ron. “Give it here.” 
+
+Very reluctantly, Ron handed over the newspaper. 
+Harry turned it over and found himself staring at his 
+own picture, beneath the banner headline: 
+
+HARRY POTTER 
+
+“DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS” 
+
+The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is 
+unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, 
+Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has 
+recently come to light about Harry Potter’s strange 
+behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to 
+compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard 
+Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School. 
+
+Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, 
+regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to 
+complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the 
+
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+
+curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). 
+On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, 
+your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming 
+from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too 
+badly to continue studying. 
+
+It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo’s Hospital 
+for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter’s brain 
+was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You- 
+Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is 
+still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated 
+confusion. 
+
+“He might even be pretending,” said one specialist. 
+“This could be a plea for attention.” 
+
+The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying 
+facts about Harry Potter thatAlbus Dumbledore, 
+Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from 
+the wizarding public. 
+
+“Potter can speak Parseltongue, ” reveals Draco Malfoy, 
+a Hogwarts fourth year. “There were a lot of attacks 
+on students a couple of years ago, and most people 
+thought Potter was behind them after they saw him 
+lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on 
+another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he’s 
+made friends with werewolves and giants too. We 
+think he’d do anything for a bit of power.” 
+
+Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has 
+long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most 
+famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than 
+You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force 
+Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, 
+stated that he would regard any wizard who could 
+speak Parseltongue “as worthy of investigation. 
+Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody 
+who could converse with snakes, as serpents are 
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+
+
+often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are 
+historically associated with evildoers.” Similarly, 
+“anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious 
+creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to 
+have a fondness for violence.” 
+
+Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a 
+boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the 
+Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might 
+resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the 
+tournament, the third task of which takes place this 
+evening. 
+
+“Gone off me a bit, hasn’t she?” said Harry lightly, 
+folding up the paper. 
+
+Over at the Slytherin table, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle 
+were laughing at him, tapping their heads with their 
+fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling 
+their tongues like snakes. 
+
+“How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?” 
+
+Ron said. “There’s no way she was there, there’s no 
+way she could’ve heard — ” 
+
+“The window was open,” said Harry. “I opened it to 
+breathe.” 
+
+“You were at the top of North Tower!” Hermione said. 
+“Your voice couldn’t have carried all the way down to 
+the grounds!” 
+
+“Well, you’re the one who’s supposed to be 
+researching magical methods of bugging!” said Harry. 
+“You tell me how she did it!” 
+
+“I’ve been trying!” said Hermione. “But I ... but ...” 
+
+
+
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+An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over 
+Hermione ’s face. She slowly raised a hand and ran 
+her fingers through her hair. 
+
+“Are you all right?” said Ron, frowning at her. 
+
+“Yes,” said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers 
+through her hair again, and then held her hand up to 
+her mouth, as though speaking into an invisible 
+walkie-talkie. Harry and Ron stared at each other. 
+
+“I’ve had an idea,” Hermione said, gazing into space. 
+
+“I think I know . . . because then no one would be able 
+to see ... even Moody ... and she’d have been able to 
+get onto the window ledge ... but she’s not allowed ... 
+she’s definitely not allowed ... I think we’ve got her! 
+Just give me two seconds in the library — just to 
+make sure!” 
+
+With that, Hermione seized her school bag and 
+dashed out of the Great Hall. 
+
+“Oi!” Ron called after her. “We’ve got our History of 
+Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey,” he said, turning 
+back to Harry, “she must really hate that Skeeter 
+woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What’re 
+you going to do in Binns’s class — read again?” 
+
+Exempt from the end-of-term tests as a Triwizard 
+champion, Harry had been sitting in the back of every 
+exam class so far, looking up fresh hexes for the third 
+task. 
+
+“S’pose so,” Harry said to Ron; but just then, 
+
+Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the 
+Gryffindor table toward him. 
+
+“Potter, the champions are congregating in the 
+chamber off the Hall after breakfast,” she said. 
+
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+“But the task’s not till tonight!” said Harry, 
+accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, 
+afraid he had mistaken the time. 
+
+“I’m aware of that, Potter,” she said. “The champions’ 
+families are invited to watch the final task, you know. 
+This is simply a chance for you to greet them.” 
+
+She moved away. Harry gaped after her. 
+
+“She doesn’t expect the Dursleys to turn up, does 
+she?” he asked Ron blankly. 
+
+“Dunno,” said Ron. “Harry, I’d better hurry, I’m going 
+to be late for Binns. See you later.” 
+
+Harry finished his breakfast in the emptying Great 
+Hall. He saw Fleur Delacour get up from the 
+Ravenclaw table and join Cedric as he crossed to the 
+side chamber and entered. Krum slouched off to join 
+them shortly afterward. Harry stayed where he was. 
+
+He really didn’t want to go into the chamber. He had 
+no family — no family who would turn up to see him 
+risk his life, anyway. But just as he was getting up, 
+thinking that he might as well go up to the library 
+and do a spot more hex research, the door of the side 
+chamber opened, and Cedric stuck his head out. 
+
+“Harry, come on, they’re waiting for you!” 
+
+Utterly perplexed, Harry got up. The Dursleys 
+couldn’t possibly be here, could they? He walked 
+across the Hall and opened the door into the 
+chamber. 
+
+Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. 
+Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his 
+dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He 
+had inherited his father’s hooked nose. On the other 
+
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+side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French 
+to her mother. Fleur’s little sister, Gabrielle, was 
+holding her mother’s hand. She waved at Harry, who 
+waved back, grinning. Then he saw Mrs. Weasley and 
+Bill standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him. 
+
+“Surprise!” Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as he smiled 
+broadly and walked over to them. “Thought we’d come 
+and watch you, Harry!” She bent down and kissed 
+him on the cheek. 
+
+“You all right?” said Bill, grinning at Harry and 
+shaking his hand. “Charlie wanted to come, but he 
+couldn’t get time off. He said you were incredible 
+against the Horntail.” 
+
+Fleur Delacour, Harry noticed, was eyeing Bill with 
+great interest over her mother’s shoulder. Harry could 
+tell she had no objection whatsoever to long hair or 
+earrings with fangs on them. 
+
+“This is really nice of you,” Harry muttered to Mrs. 
+Weasley. “I thought for a moment — the Dursleys — ” 
+
+“Hmm,” said Mrs. Weasley, pursing her lips. She had 
+always refrained from criticizing the Dursleys in front 
+of Harry, but her eyes flashed every time they were 
+mentioned. 
+
+“It’s great being back here,” said Bill, looking around 
+the chamber (Violet, the Fat Lady’s friend, winked at 
+him from her frame). “Haven’t seen this place for five 
+years. Is that picture of the mad knight still around? 
+Sir Cadogan?” 
+
+“Oh yeah,” said Harry, who had met Sir Cadogan the 
+previous year. 
+
+“And the Fat Lady?” said Bill. 
+
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+
+“She was here in my time,” said Mrs. Weasley. “She 
+gave me such a telling off one night when I got back 
+to the dormitory at four in the morning — ” 
+
+“What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in 
+the morning?” said Bill, surveying his mother with 
+amazement. 
+
+Mrs. Weasley grinned, her eyes twinkling. 
+
+“Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” 
+she said. “He got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he 
+was the caretaker in those days — your father’s still 
+got the marks.” 
+
+“Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?” said Bill. 
+
+“Yeah, okay,” said Harry, and they made their way 
+back toward the door into the Great Hall. As they 
+passed Amos Diggory, he looked around. 
+
+“There you are, are you?” he said, looking Harry up 
+and down. “Bet you’re not feeling quite as full of 
+yourself now Cedric’s caught you up on points, are 
+you?” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. 
+
+“Ignore him,” said Cedric in a low voice to Harry, 
+frowning after his father. “He’s been angry ever since 
+Rita Skeeter’s article about the Triwizard Tournament 
+— you know, when she made out you were the only 
+Hogwarts champion.” 
+
+“Didn’t bother to correct her, though, did he?” said 
+Amos Diggory, loudly enough for Harry to hear as he 
+started to walk out of the door with Mrs. Weasley and 
+Bill. “Still ... you’ll show him, Ced. Beaten him once 
+before, haven’t you?” 
+
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+“Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, 
+Amos!” Mrs. Weasley said angrily. “I would have 
+thought you’d know that, working at the Ministry!” 
+
+Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say 
+something angry, but his wife laid a hand on his arm, 
+and he merely shrugged and turned away. 
+
+Harry had a very enjoyable morning walking over the 
+sunny grounds with Bill and Mrs. Weasley, showing 
+them the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang 
+ship. Mrs. Weasley was intrigued by the Whomping 
+Willow, which had been planted after she had left 
+school, and reminisced at length about the 
+gamekeeper before Hagrid, a man called Ogg. 
+
+“How’s Percy?” Harry asked as they walked around 
+the greenhouses. 
+
+“Not good,” said Bill. 
+
+“He’s very upset,” said Mrs. Weasley, lowering her 
+voice and glancing around. “The Ministry wants to 
+keep Mr. Crouch’s disappearance quiet, but Percy’s 
+been hauled in for questioning about the instructions 
+Mr. Crouch has been sending in. They seem to think 
+there’s a chance they weren’t genuinely written by 
+him. Percy’s been under a lot of strain. They’re not 
+letting him fill in for Mr. Crouch as the fifth judge 
+tonight. Cornelius Fudge is going to be doing it.” 
+
+They returned to the castle for lunch. 
+
+“Mum — Bill!” said Ron, looking stunned, as he 
+joined the Gryffindor table. “What ’re you doing here?” 
+
+“Come to watch Harry in the last task!” said Mrs. 
+Weasley brightly. “I must say, it makes a lovely 
+change, not having to cook. How was your exam?” 
+
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+“Oh ... okay,” said Ron. “Couldn’t remember all the 
+goblin rebels’ names, so I invented a few. It’s all 
+right,” he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, 
+while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, “they’re all called 
+stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it 
+wasn’t hard.” 
+
+Fred, George, and Ginny came to sit next to them too, 
+and Harry was having such a good time he felt almost 
+as though he were back at the Burrow; he had 
+forgotten to worry about that evening’s task, and not 
+until Hermione turned up, halfway through lunch, 
+did he remember that she had had a brainwave about 
+Rita Skeeter. 
+
+“Are you going to tell us — ?” 
+
+Hermione shook her head warningly and glanced at 
+Mrs. Weasley. 
+
+“Hello, Hermione,” said Mrs. Weasley, much more 
+stiffly than usual. 
+
+“Hello,” said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold 
+expression on Mrs. Weasley’s face. 
+
+Harry looked between them, then said, “Mrs. Weasley, 
+you didn’t believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in 
+Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione ’s not my 
+girlfriend.” 
+
+“Oh!” said Mrs. Weasley. “No — of course I didn’t!” 
+
+But she became considerably warmer toward 
+Hermione after that. 
+
+Harry, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley whiled away the 
+afternoon with a long walk around the castle, and 
+then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. 
+
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+
+Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the 
+staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but 
+Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame 
+Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame 
+Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and Harry 
+thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing 
+along the table at her. 
+
+There were more courses than usual, but Harry, who 
+was starting to feel really nervous now, didn’t eat 
+much. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to 
+fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to 
+his feet at the staff table, and silence fell. 
+
+“Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be 
+asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch 
+field for the third and final task of the Triwizard 
+Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. 
+Bagman down to the stadium now.” 
+
+Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were 
+applauding him; the Weasleys and Hermione all 
+wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the 
+Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor. 
+
+“Feeling all right, Harry?” Bagman asked as they went 
+down the stone steps onto the grounds. “Confident?” 
+
+“I’m okay,” said Harry. It was sort of true; he was 
+nervous, but he kept running over all the hexes and 
+spells he had been practicing in his mind as they 
+walked, and the knowledge that he could remember 
+them all made him feel better. 
+
+They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now 
+completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge 
+ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap 
+right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. 
+The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy. 
+
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+
+Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the 
+air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet 
+as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. The 
+sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars 
+were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, 
+Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came 
+walking into the stadium and approached Bagman 
+and the champions. They were wearing large, red, 
+luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who 
+had his on the back of his moleskin vest. 
+
+“We are going to be patrolling the outside of the 
+maze,” said Professor McGonagall to the champions. 
+“If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, 
+send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come 
+and get you, do you understand?” 
+
+The champions nodded. 
+
+“Off you go, then!” said Bagman brightly to the four 
+patrollers. 
+
+“Good luck, Harry,” Hagrid whispered, and the four of 
+them walked away in different directions, to station 
+themselves around the maze. Bagman now pointed 
+his wand at his throat, muttered, “ Sonorus,” and his 
+magically magnified voice echoed into the stands. 
+
+“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the 
+Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me 
+remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in 
+first place, with eighty-five points each — Mr. Cedric 
+Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts 
+School!” The cheers and applause sent birds from the 
+Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. 
+
+“In second place, with eighty points — Mr. Viktor 
+Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” More applause. “And 
+in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons 
+Academy!” 
+
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+Harry could just make out Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, 
+and Hermione applauding Fleur politely, halfway up 
+the stands. He waved up at them, and they waved 
+back, beaming at him. 
+
+“So ... on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” said 
+Bagman. “Three — two — one — ” 
+
+He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and 
+Cedric hurried forward into the maze. 
+
+The towering hedges cast black shadows across the 
+path, and, whether because they were so tall and 
+thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound 
+of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment 
+they entered the maze. Harry felt almost as though he 
+were underwater again. He pulled out his wand, 
+muttered, “Lumos,” and heard Cedric do the same 
+just behind him. 
+
+After about fifty yards, they reached a fork. They 
+looked at each other. 
+
+“See you,” Harry said, and he took the left one, while 
+Cedric took the right. 
+
+Harry heard Bagman’s whistle for the second time. 
+Krum had entered the maze. Harry sped up. His 
+chosen path seemed completely deserted. He turned 
+right, and hurried on, holding his wand high over his 
+head, trying to see as far ahead as possible. Still, 
+there was nothing in sight. 
+
+Bagman’s whistle blew in the distance for the third 
+time. All of the champions were now inside. 
+
+Harry kept looking behind him. The old feeling that 
+he was being watched was upon him. The maze was 
+
+
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+growing darker with every passing minute as the sky 
+overhead deepened to navy. He reached a second fork. 
+
+“ Point Me,” he whispered to his wand, holding it flat in 
+his palm. 
+
+The wand spun around once and pointed toward his 
+right, into solid hedge. That way was north, and he 
+knew that he needed to go northwest for the center of 
+the maze. The best he could do was to take the left 
+fork and go right again as soon as possible. 
+
+The path ahead was empty too, and when Harry 
+reached a right turn and took it, he again found his 
+way unblocked. Harry didn’t know why, but the lack 
+of obstacles was unnerving him. Surely he should 
+have met something by now? It felt as though the 
+maze were luring him into a false sense of security. 
+Then he heard movement right behind him. He held 
+out his wand, ready to attack, but its beam fell only 
+upon Cedric, who had just hurried out of a path on 
+the right-hand side. Cedric looked severely shaken. 
+The sleeve of his robe was smoking. 
+
+“Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts!” he hissed. “They’re 
+enormous — I only just got away!” 
+
+He shook his head and dived out of sight, along 
+another path. Keen to put plenty of distance between 
+himself and the skrewts, Harry hurried off again. 
+Then, as he turned a corner, he saw ... a dementor 
+gliding toward him. Twelve feet tall, its face hidden by 
+its hood, its rotting, scabbed hands outstretched, it 
+advanced, sensing its way blindly toward him. Harry 
+could hear its rattling breath; he felt clammy coldness 
+stealing over him, but knew what he had to do. ... 
+
+He summoned the happiest thought he could, 
+concentrated with all his might on the thought of 
+
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+getting out of the maze and celebrating with Ron and 
+Hermione, raised his wand, and cried, “Expecto 
+Patronum).” 
+
+A silver stag erupted from the end of Harry’s wand 
+and galloped toward the dementor, which fell back 
+and tripped over the hem of its robes. ... Harry had 
+never seen a dementor stumble. 
+
+“Hang on!” he shouted, advancing in the wake of his 
+silver Patronus. “You’re a boggart! Riddikulusl” 
+
+There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifter 
+exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver stag faded 
+from sight. Harry wished it could have stayed, he 
+could have used some company . . . but he moved on, 
+quickly and quietly as possible, listening hard, his 
+wand held high once more. 
+
+Left . . . right . . . left again . . . Twice he found himself 
+facing dead ends. He did the Four-Point Spell again 
+and found that he was going too far east. He turned 
+back, took a right turn, and saw an odd golden mist 
+floating ahead of him. 
+
+Harry approached it cautiously, pointing the wand’s 
+beam at it. This looked like some kind of 
+enchantment. He wondered whether he might be able 
+to blast it out of the way. 
+
+“Reductol” he said. 
+
+The spell shot straight through the mist, leaving it 
+intact. He supposed he should have known better; the 
+Reductor Curse was for solid objects. What would 
+happen if he walked through the mist? Was it worth 
+chancing it, or should he double back? 
+
+
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+
+He was still hesitating when a scream shattered the 
+silence. 
+
+
+
+“Fleur?” Harry yelled. 
+
+There was silence. He stared all around him. What 
+had happened to her? Her scream seemed to have 
+come from somewhere ahead. He took a deep breath 
+and ran through the enchanted mist. 
+
+The world turned upside down. Harry was hanging 
+from the ground, with his hair on end, his glasses 
+dangling off his nose, threatening to fall into the 
+bottomless sky. He clutched them to the end of his 
+nose and hung there, terrified. It felt as though his 
+feet were glued to the grass, which had now become 
+the ceiling. Below him the dark, star-spangled 
+heavens stretched endlessly. He felt as though if he 
+tried to move one of his feet, he would fall away from 
+the earth completely. 
+
+Think , he told himself, as all the blood rushed to his 
+head, think ... 
+
+But not one of the spells he had practiced had been 
+designed to combat a sudden reversal of ground and 
+sky. Did he dare move his foot? He could hear the 
+blood pounding in his ears. He had two choices — try 
+and move, or send up red sparks, and get rescued 
+and disqualified from the task. 
+
+He shut his eyes, so he wouldn’t be able to see the 
+view of endless space below him, and pulled his right 
+foot as hard as he could away from the grassy ceiling. 
+
+Immediately, the world righted itself. Harry fell 
+forward onto his knees onto the wonderfully solid 
+ground. He felt temporarily limp with shock. He took 
+a deep, steadying breath, then got up again and 
+
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+hurried forward, looking back over his shoulder as he 
+ran away from the golden mist, which twinkled 
+innocently at him in the moonlight. 
+
+He paused at a junction of two paths and looked 
+around for some sign of Fleur. He was sure it had 
+been she who had screamed. What had she met? Was 
+she all right? There was no sign of red sparks — did 
+that mean she had got herself out of trouble, or was 
+she in such trouble that she couldn’t reach her 
+wand? Harry took the right fork with a feeling of 
+increasing unease ... but at the same time, he 
+couldn’t help thinking, One champion down ... 
+
+The cup was somewhere close by, and it sounded as 
+though Fleur was no longer in the running. He’d got 
+this far, hadn’t he? What if he actually managed to 
+win? Fleetingly, and for the first time since he’d found 
+himself champion, he saw again that image of 
+himself, raising the Triwizard Cup in front of the rest 
+of the school. ... 
+
+He met nothing for ten minutes, but kept running 
+into dead ends. Twice he took the same wrong 
+turning. Finally, he found a new route and started to 
+jog along it, his wandlight waving, making his shadow 
+flicker and distort on the hedge walls. Then he 
+rounded another corner and found himself facing a 
+Blast-Ended Skrewt. 
+
+Cedric was right — it was enormous. Ten feet long, it 
+looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its 
+long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor 
+glinted in the light from Harry’s wand, which he 
+pointed at it. 
+
+“Stupefy'.” 
+
+
+
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+The spell hit the skrewt’s armor and rebounded; 
+
+Harry ducked just in time, but could smell burning 
+hair; it had singed the top of his head. The skrewt 
+issued a blast of fire from its end and flew forward 
+toward him. 
+
+“ Impedimental ” Harry yelled. The spell hit the skrewt’s 
+armor again and ricocheted off; Harry staggered back 
+a few paces and fell over. a IMPEDIMENT A\” 
+
+The skrewt was inches from him when it froze — he 
+had managed to hit it on its fleshy, shell-less 
+underside. Panting, Harry pushed himself away from 
+it and ran, hard, in the opposite direction — the 
+Impediment Curse was not permanent; the skrewt 
+would be regaining the use of its legs at any moment. 
+
+He took a left path and hit a dead end, a right, and 
+hit another; forcing himself to stop, heart hammering, 
+he performed the Four-Point Spell again, 
+backtracked, and chose a path that would take him 
+northwest. 
+
+He had been hurrying along the new path for a few 
+minutes, when he heard something in the path 
+running parallel to his own that made him stop dead. 
+
+“What are you doing?” yelled Cedric’s voice. “What the 
+hell d’you think you’re doing?” 
+
+And then Harry heard Krum’s voice. 
+
+“ Crucio \ ” 
+
+The air was suddenly full of Cedric’s yells. Horrified, 
+Harry began sprinting up his path, trying to find a 
+way into Cedric’s. When none appeared, he tried the 
+Reductor Curse again. It wasn’t very effective, but it 
+burned a small hole in the hedge through which 
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+Harry forced his leg, kicking at the thick brambles 
+and branches until they broke and made an opening; 
+he struggled through it, tearing his robes, and looking 
+to his right, saw Cedric jerking and twitching on the 
+ground, Krum standing over him. 
+
+Harry pulled himself up and pointed his wand at 
+Krum just as Krum looked up. Krum turned and 
+began to run. 
+
+“ Stupefy]” Harry yelled. 
+
+The spell hit Krum in the back; he stopped dead in 
+his tracks, fell forward, and lay motionless, facedown 
+in the grass. Harry dashed over to Cedric, who had 
+stopped twitching and was lying there panting, his 
+hands over his face. 
+
+“Are you all right?” Harry said roughly, grabbing 
+Cedric’s arm. 
+
+“Yeah,” panted Cedric. “Yeah ... I don’t believe it ... he 
+crept up behind me. ... I heard him, I turned around, 
+and he had his wand on me. ...” 
+
+Cedric got up. He was still shaking. He and Harry 
+looked down at Krum. 
+
+“I can’t believe this ... I thought he was all right,” 
+Harry said, staring at Krum. 
+
+“So did I,” said Cedric. 
+
+“Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?” said Harry. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Cedric. “You don’t think Krum got her 
+too?” 
+
+“I don’t know,” said Harry slowly. 
+
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+
+“Should we leave him here?” Cedric muttered. 
+
+
+
+“No,” said Harry. “I reckon we should send up red 
+sparks. Someone’ll come and collect him ... otherwise 
+he’ll probably be eaten by a skrewt.” 
+
+“He’d deserve it,” Cedric muttered, but all the same, 
+he raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks 
+into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking 
+the spot where he lay. 
+
+Harry and Cedric stood there in the darkness for a 
+moment, looking around them. Then Cedric said, 
+
+“Well ... I s’pose we’d better go on . ...” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. “Oh ... yeah ... right ...” 
+
+It was an odd moment. He and Cedric had been 
+briefly united against Krum — now the fact that they 
+were opponents came back to Harry. The two of them 
+proceeded up the dark path without speaking, then 
+Harry turned left, and Cedric right. Cedric’s footsteps 
+soon died away. 
+
+Harry moved on, continuing to use the Four-Point 
+Spell, making sure he was moving in the right 
+direction. It was between him and Cedric now. His 
+desire to reach the cup first was now burning 
+stronger than ever, but he could hardly believe what 
+he’d just seen Krum do. The use of an Unforgivable 
+Curse on a fellow human being meant a life term in 
+Azkaban, that was what Moody had told them. Krum 
+surely couldn’t have wanted the Triwizard Cup that 
+badly. ... Harry sped up. 
+
+Every so often he hit more dead ends, but the 
+increasing darkness made him feel sure he was 
+getting near the heart of the maze. Then, as he strode 
+down a long, straight path, he saw movement once 
+
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+
+again, and his beam of wandlight hit an extraordinary 
+creature, one which he had only seen in picture form, 
+in his Monster Book of Monsters. 
+
+It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: 
+great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in 
+a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. 
+She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Harry 
+as he approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. 
+
+She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing 
+from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. 
+Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice. 
+
+“You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past 
+me.” 
+
+“So ... so will you move, please?” said Harry, knowing 
+what the answer was going to be. 
+
+“No,” she said, continuing to pace. “Not unless you 
+can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess — I 
+let you pass. Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain 
+silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed.” 
+
+Harry’s stomach slipped several notches. It was 
+Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. 
+He weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, he 
+could keep silent, get away from the sphinx 
+unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to 
+the center. 
+
+“Okay,” he said. “Can I hear the riddle?” 
+
+The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very 
+middle of the path, and recited: 
+
+“First think of the person who lives in disguise, 
+
+
+
+Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies. 
+
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+
+Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend, 
+
+The middle of middle and end of the end? 
+
+And finally give me the sound often heard 
+During the search for a hard-to-find word. 
+
+Now string them together, and answer me this, 
+
+Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?” 
+
+Harry gaped at her. 
+
+“Could I have it again . . . more slowly?” he asked 
+tentatively. 
+
+She blinked at him, smiled, and repeated the poem. 
+
+“All the clues add up to a creature I wouldn’t want to 
+kiss?” Harry asked. 
+
+She merely smiled her mysterious smile. Harry took 
+that for a “yes.” Harry cast his mind around. There 
+were plenty of animals he wouldn’t want to kiss; his 
+immediate thought was a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but 
+something told him that wasn’t the answer. He’d have 
+to try and work out the clues. ... 
+
+“A person in disguise,” Harry muttered, staring at her, 
+“who lies ... er ... that’d be a — an imposter. No, 
+that’s not my guess! A — a spy? I’ll come back to that 
+. . . could you give me the next clue again, please?” 
+
+She repeated the next lines of the poem. 
+
+“ The last thing to mend,’ ” Harry repeated. “Er ... no 
+idea ... ‘middle of middle’ ... could I have the last bit 
+again?” 
+
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+
+She gave him the last four lines. 
+
+“ The sound often heard during the search for a hard- 
+to-find word,’ ” said Harry. “Er ... that’d be ... er ... 
+hang on — ‘er’! Er’s a sound!” 
+
+The sphinx smiled at him. 
+
+“Spy ... er ... spy ... er ...” said Harry, pacing up and 
+down. “A creature I wouldn’t want to kiss ... a spiderl” 
+
+The sphinx smiled more broadly. She got up, 
+stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for 
+him to pass. 
+
+“Thanks!” said Harry, and, amazed at his own 
+brilliance, he dashed forward. 
+
+He had to be close now, he had to be. ... His wand 
+was telling him he was bang on course; as long as he 
+didn’t meet anything too horrible, he might have a 
+chance. ... 
+
+Harry broke into a run. He had a choice of paths up 
+ahead. “Point Mel” he whispered again to his wand, 
+and it spun around and pointed him to the right- 
+hand one. He dashed up this one and saw light 
+ahead. 
+
+The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a 
+hundred yards away. Suddenly a dark figure hurtled 
+out onto the path in front of him. 
+
+Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was 
+sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup, and 
+Harry knew he would never catch up, Cedric was 
+much taller, had much longer legs — 
+
+
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+Then Harry saw something immense over a hedge to 
+his left, moving quickly along a path that intersected 
+with his own; it was moving so fast Cedric was about 
+to run into it, and Cedric, his eyes on the cup, had 
+not seen it — 
+
+“Cedric!” Harry bellowed. “On your left!” 
+
+Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past 
+the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, 
+he tripped. Harry saw Cedric’s wand fly out of his 
+hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and 
+began to bear down upon Cedric. 
+
+“Stupefy'.” Harry yelled; the spell hit the spider’s 
+gigantic, hairy black body, but for all the good it did, 
+he might as well have thrown a stone at it; the spider 
+jerked, scuttled around, and ran at Harry instead. 
+
+“ Stupefy ! Impedimenta ! Stupefy !” 
+
+But it was no use — the spider was either so large, or 
+so magical, that the spells were doing no more than 
+aggravating it. Harry had one horrifying glimpse of 
+eight shining black eyes and razor-sharp pincers 
+before it was upon him. 
+
+He was lifted into the air in its front legs; struggling 
+madly, he tried to kick it; his leg connected with the 
+pincers and next moment he was in excruciating 
+pain. He could hear Cedric yelling “Stupefy'.” too, but 
+his spell had no more effect than Harry’s — Harry 
+raised his wand as the spider opened its pincers once 
+more and shouted “ Expelliarmus'.” 
+
+It worked — the Disarming Spell made the spider 
+drop him, but that meant that Harry fell twelve feet 
+onto his already injured leg, which crumpled beneath 
+him. Without pausing to think, he aimed high at the 
+
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+
+spider’s underbelly, as he had done with the skrewt, 
+and shouted “Stupefyl” just as Cedric yelled the same 
+thing. 
+
+The two spells combined did what one alone had not: 
+The spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby 
+hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy 
+legs. 
+
+“Harry!” he heard Cedric shouting. “You all right? Did 
+it fall on you?” 
+
+“No,” Harry called back, panting. He looked down at 
+his leg. It was bleeding freely. He could see some sort 
+of thick, gluey secretion from the spider’s pincers on 
+his torn robes. He tried to get up, but his leg was 
+shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. 
+He leaned against the hedge, gasping for breath, and 
+looked around. 
+
+Cedric was standing feet from the Triwizard Cup, 
+which was gleaming behind him. 
+
+“Take it, then,” Harry panted to Cedric. “Go on, take 
+it. You’re there.” 
+
+But Cedric didn’t move. He merely stood there, 
+looking at Harry. Then he turned to stare at the cup. 
+Harry saw the longing expression on his face in its 
+golden light. Cedric looked around at Harry again, 
+who was now holding onto the hedge to support 
+himself. Cedric took a deep breath. 
+
+“You take it. You should win. That’s twice you’ve 
+saved my neck in here.” 
+
+“That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Harry said. He 
+felt angry; his leg was very painful, he was aching all 
+over from trying to throw off the spider, and after all 
+
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+his efforts, Cedric had beaten him to it, just as he’d 
+beaten Harry to ask Cho to the ball. “The one who 
+reaches the cup first gets the points. That’s you. I’m 
+telling you, I’m not going to win any races on this leg.” 
+
+Cedric took a few paces nearer to the Stunned spider, 
+away from the cup, shaking his head. 
+
+“No,” he said. 
+
+“Stop being noble,” said Harry irritably. “Just take it, 
+then we can get out of here.” 
+
+Cedric watched Harry steadying himself, holding tight 
+to the hedge. 
+
+“You told me about the dragons,” Cedric said. “I 
+would’ve gone down in the first task if you hadn’t told 
+me what was coming.” 
+
+“I had help on that too,” Harry snapped, trying to mop 
+up his bloody leg with his robes. “You helped me with 
+the egg — we’re square.” 
+
+“I had help on the egg in the first place,” said Cedric. 
+
+“We’re still square,” said Harry, testing his leg 
+gingerly; it shook violently as he put weight on it; he 
+had sprained his ankle when the spider had dropped 
+him. 
+
+“You should’ve got more points on the second task,” 
+said Cedric mulishly. “You stayed behind to get all the 
+hostages. I should’ve done that.” 
+
+“I was the only one who was thick enough to take that 
+song seriously!” said Harry bitterly. “Just take the 
+cup!” 
+
+
+
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+
+“No,” said Cedric. 
+
+
+
+He stepped over the spider’s tangled legs to join 
+Harry, who stared at him. Cedric was serious. He was 
+walking away from the sort of glory Hufflepuff House 
+hadn’t had in centuries. 
+
+“Go on,” Cedric said. He looked as though this was 
+costing him every ounce of resolution he had, but his 
+face was set, his arms were folded, he seemed 
+decided. 
+
+Harry looked from Cedric to the cup. For one shining 
+moment, he saw himself emerging from the maze, 
+holding it. He saw himself holding the Triwizard Cup 
+aloft, heard the roar of the crowd, saw Cho’s face 
+shining with admiration, more clearly than he had 
+ever seen it before ... and then the picture faded, and 
+he found himself staring at Cedric’s shadowy, 
+stubborn face. 
+
+“Both of us,” Harry said. 
+
+“What?” 
+
+“Well take it at the same time. It’s still a Hogwarts 
+victory. We’ll tie for it.” 
+
+Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. 
+
+“You — you sure?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah ... we’ve helped each other 
+out, haven’t we? We both got here. Let’s just take it 
+together.” 
+
+For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn’t 
+believe his ears; then his face split in a grin. 
+
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+
+
+“You’re on,” he said. “Come here.” 
+
+He grabbed Harry’s arm below the shoulder and 
+helped Harry limp toward the plinth where the cup 
+stood. When they had reached it, they both held a 
+hand out over one of the cup’s gleaming handles. 
+
+“On three, right?” said Harry. “One — two — three — ” 
+
+He and Cedric both grasped a handle. 
+
+Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his 
+navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not 
+unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was 
+pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling 
+color, Cedric at his side. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+FLESH, BLOOD, AND BONE 
+
+Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured 
+leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of 
+the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head. 
+
+“Where are we?” he said. 
+
+Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his 
+feet, and they looked around. 
+
+They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they 
+had obviously traveled miles — perhaps hundreds of 
+miles — for even the mountains surrounding the 
+castle were gone. They were standing instead in a 
+dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a 
+small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to 
+their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry 
+could just make out the outline of a fine old house on 
+the hillside. 
+
+Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up 
+at Harry. 
+
+
+
+Page | 703 
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+
+
+
+“Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?” he 
+asked. 
+
+“Nope,” said Harry. He was looking around the 
+graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. 
+“Is this supposed to be part of the task?” 
+
+“I dunno,” said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. 
+“Wands out, d’you reckon?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the 
+suggestion rather than him. 
+
+They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking 
+around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling 
+that they were being watched. 
+
+“Someone’s coming,” he said suddenly. 
+
+Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched 
+the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward 
+them between the graves. Harry couldn’t make out a 
+face, but from the way it was walking and holding its 
+arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. 
+Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded 
+cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And 
+— several paces nearer, the gap between them closing 
+all the time — Harry saw that the thing in the 
+person’s arms looked like a baby ... or was it merely a 
+bundle of robes? 
+
+Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways 
+at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both 
+turned back to watch the approaching figure. 
+
+It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only 
+six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Cedric 
+and the short figure simply looked at one another. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+And then, without warning, Harry’s scar exploded 
+with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in 
+all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put 
+his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on 
+the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head 
+was about to split open. 
+
+From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold 
+voice say, “Kill the spare.” 
+
+A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched 
+the words to the night: “Avada KedavraV’ 
+
+A blast of green light blazed through Harry’s eyelids, 
+and he heard something heavy fall to the ground 
+beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch 
+that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of 
+what he was about to see, he opened his stinging 
+eyes. 
+
+Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside 
+him. He was dead. 
+
+For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared 
+into Cedric’s face, at his open gray eyes, blank and 
+expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at 
+his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. 
+And then, before Harry’s mind had accepted what he 
+was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb 
+disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet. 
+
+The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, 
+lit his wand, and was dragging Harry toward the 
+marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it 
+flickering in the wandlight before he was forced 
+around and slammed against it. 
+
+TOM RIDDLE 
+
+
+
+Page | 705 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords 
+around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the 
+headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing 
+from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the 
+man hit him — hit him with a hand that had a finger 
+missing. And Harry realized who was under the hood. 
+It was Wormtail. 
+
+“You!” he gasped. 
+
+But Wormtail, who had finished conjuring the ropes, 
+did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of 
+the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, 
+fumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was 
+bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn’t 
+move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black 
+material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it 
+roughly into Harry’s mouth; then, without a word, he 
+turned from Harry and hurried away. Harry couldn’t 
+make a sound, nor could he see where Wormtail had 
+gone; he couldn’t turn his head to see beyond the 
+headstone; he could see only what was right in front 
+of him. 
+
+Cedric’s body was lying some twenty feet away. Some 
+way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the 
+Triwizard Cup. Harry’s wand was on the ground at 
+Cedric’s feet. The bundle of robes that Harry had 
+thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the 
+grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully. Harry watched 
+it, and his scar seared with pain again . . . and he 
+suddenly knew that he didn’t want to see what was in 
+those robes ... he didn’t want that bundle opened. ... 
+
+He could hear noises at his feet. He looked down and 
+saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, 
+circling the headstone where he was tied. Wormtail’s 
+fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It 
+sounded as though he was forcing something heavy 
+Page | 706 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+across the ground. Then he came back within Harry’s 
+range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone 
+cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what 
+seemed to be water — Harry could hear it slopping 
+around — and it was larger than any cauldron Harry 
+had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a 
+full-grown man to sit in. 
+
+The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground 
+was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying 
+to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at 
+the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly 
+there were crackling flames beneath it. The large 
+snake slithered away into the darkness. 
+
+The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. 
+The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out 
+fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was 
+thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending 
+the fire. The movements beneath the robes became 
+more agitated. And Harry heard the high, cold voice 
+again. 
+
+“Hurry\” 
+
+The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks 
+now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds. 
+
+“It is ready, Master.” 
+
+“Now ...” said the cold voice. 
+
+Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, 
+revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a 
+yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking 
+his mouth. 
+
+It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone 
+and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind — but 
+
+Page | 707 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail 
+had been carrying had the shape of a crouched 
+human child, except that Harry had never seen 
+anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly - 
+looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs 
+were thin and feeble, and its face — no child alive 
+ever had a face like that — flat and snakelike, with 
+gleaming red eyes. 
+
+The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin 
+arms, put them around Wormtail’s neck, and 
+Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, 
+and Harry saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail’s 
+weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the 
+creature to the rim of the cauldron. For one moment, 
+Harry saw the evil, flat face illuminated in the sparks 
+dancing on the surface of the potion. And then 
+Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; 
+there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; 
+Harry heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft 
+thud. 
+
+Let it drown, Harry thought, his scar burning almost 
+past endurance, please ... let it drown. ... 
+
+Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed 
+frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, 
+closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. 
+
+“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew 
+your son!” 
+
+The surface of the grave at Harry’s feet cracked. 
+Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose 
+into the air at Wormtail’s command and fell softly into 
+the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke 
+and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned 
+a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, 
+thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His 
+voice broke into petrified sobs. 
+
+“ Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given — you will 
+— revive — your master.” 
+
+He stretched his right hand out in front of him — the 
+hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger 
+very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. 
+
+Harry realized what Wormtail was about to do a 
+second before it happened — he closed his eyes as 
+tightly as he could, but he could not block the scream 
+that pierced the night, that went through Harry as 
+though he had been stabbed with the dagger too. He 
+heard something fall to the ground, heard Wormtail’s 
+anguished panting, then a sickening splash, as 
+something was dropped into the cauldron. Harry 
+couldn’t stand to look ... but the potion had turned a 
+burning red; the light of it shone through Harry’s 
+closed eyelids... 
+
+Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not 
+until Harry felt Wormtail’s anguished breath on his 
+face did he realize that Wormtail was right in front of 
+him. 
+
+“B-blood of the enemy ... forcibly taken ... you will ... 
+resurrect your foe.” 
+
+Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too 
+tightly. ... Squinting down, struggling hopelessly at 
+the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver 
+dagger shaking in Wormtail’s remaining hand. He felt 
+its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and 
+blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. 
+Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
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+
+
+pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry’s cut, so 
+that a dribble of blood fell into it. 
+
+He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry’s blood. 
+He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, 
+instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, 
+dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then 
+slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the 
+bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing. 
+
+The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond 
+sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it 
+turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing 
+happened. ... 
+
+Let it have drowned, Harry thought, let it have gone 
+wrong. ... 
+
+And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the 
+cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam 
+billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, 
+obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he 
+couldn’t see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor 
+hanging in the air. . . It’s gone wrong, he thought . . . it’s 
+drowned . . . please . . . please let it be dead. . . 
+
+But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, 
+with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, 
+tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the 
+cauldron. 
+
+“Robe me,” said the high, cold voice from behind the 
+steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still 
+cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the 
+black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached 
+up, and pulled them one-handed over his master’s 
+head. 
+
+
+
+Page | 710 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at 
+Harry . . . and Harry stared back into the face that had 
+haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a 
+skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that 
+was flat as a snake’s with slits for nostrils ... 
+
+Lord Voldemort had risen again. 
+
+
+
+Page | 711 
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+
+
+
+
+THE DEATH EATERS 
+
+Voldemort looked away from Harry and began 
+examining his own body. His hands were like large, 
+pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own 
+chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils 
+were slits, like a cat’s, gleamed still more brightly 
+through the darkness. He held up his hands and 
+flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. 
+
+He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay 
+twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great 
+snake, which had slithered back into sight and was 
+circling Harry again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of 
+those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep 
+pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently 
+too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, 
+who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the 
+headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of 
+it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort 
+turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, 
+cold, mirthless laugh. 
+
+Wormtail’s robes were shining with blood now; he had 
+wrapped the stump of his arm in them. 
+
+Page | 712 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+“My Lord ...” he choked, “my Lord ... you promised ... 
+you did promise ...” 
+
+“Hold out your arm,” said Voldemort lazily. 
+
+“Oh Master ... thank you, Master ...” 
+
+He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort 
+laughed again. 
+
+“The other arm, Wormtail.” 
+
+“Master, please ... please ...” 
+
+Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left 
+arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past 
+his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin 
+there, something like a vivid red tattoo — a skull with 
+a snake protruding from its mouth — the image that 
+had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: 
+the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, 
+ignoring Wormtail’s uncontrollable weeping. 
+
+“It is back,” he said softly, “they will all have noticed it 
+... and now, we shall see ... now we shall know ...” 
+
+He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on 
+Wormtail’s arm. 
+
+The scar on Harry’s forehead seared with a sharp 
+pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; 
+Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail’s mark, 
+and Harry saw that it had turned jet black. 
+
+A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort 
+straightened up, threw back his head, and stared 
+around at the dark graveyard. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+
+“How many will be brave enough to return when they 
+feel it?” he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed 
+upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough 
+to stay away?” 
+
+He began to pace up and down before Harry and 
+Wormtail, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. 
+After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry again, 
+a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. 
+
+“You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late 
+father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool ... very 
+like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, 
+did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a 
+child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he 
+has proved himself, in death. ...” 
+
+Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, 
+looking all around him as he walked, and the snake 
+continued to circle in the grass. 
+
+“You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My 
+father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here 
+in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned 
+her when she told him what she was. ... He didn’t like 
+magic, my father . . . 
+
+“He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before 
+I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to 
+me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage ... 
+but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon 
+him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle. 
+
+
+
+Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to 
+grave. 
+
+
+
+Page | 714 
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+
+
+
+
+“Listen to me, reliving family history ...” he said 
+quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental. ... But 
+look, Harry! My true family returns. ...” 
+
+The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. 
+Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every 
+shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them 
+were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved 
+forward . . . slowly, cautiously, as though they could 
+hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, 
+waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to 
+his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the 
+hem of his black robes. 
+
+“Master ... Master ...” he murmured. 
+
+The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of 
+them approaching Voldemort on his knees and 
+kissing his robes, before backing away and standing 
+up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom 
+Riddle’s grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing and 
+twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps 
+in the circle, as though waiting for more people. 
+Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He 
+looked around at the hooded faces, and though there 
+was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the 
+circle, as though it had shivered. 
+
+“Welcome, Death Eaters,” said Voldemort quietly. 
+“Thirteen years ... thirteen years since last we met. 
+
+Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. 
+
+... We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or 
+are we?” 
+
+He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like 
+nostrils widening. 
+
+“I smell guilt,” he said. “There is a stench of guilt 
+upon the air.” 
+
+Page | 715 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each 
+member of it longed, but did not dare, to step back 
+from him. 
+
+“I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers 
+intact — such prompt appearances! — and I ask 
+myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to 
+the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal 
+loyalty?” 
+
+No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who 
+was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding 
+arm. 
+
+“And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they 
+must have believed me broken, they thought I was 
+gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they 
+pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. 
+
+
+
+“And then I ask myself, but how could they have 
+believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the 
+steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal 
+death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of 
+my power in the times when I was mightier than any 
+wizard living? 
+
+“And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still 
+greater power could exist, one that could vanquish 
+even Lord Voldemort ... perhaps they now pay 
+allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of 
+commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus 
+Dumbledore?” 
+
+At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the members 
+of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook 
+their heads. Voldemort ignored them. 
+
+
+
+Page | 716 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“It is a disappointment to me ... I confess myself 
+disappointed. ...” 
+
+One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, 
+breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he 
+collapsed at Voldemort’s feet. 
+
+“Master!” he shrieked, “Master, forgive me! Forgive us 
+all!” 
+
+Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand. 
+
+“ Cruciol ” 
+
+The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked; 
+Harry was sure the sound must carry to the houses 
+around. ... Let the police come, he thought desperately 
+... anyone ... anything ... 
+
+
+
+Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater 
+lay flat upon the ground, gasping. 
+
+“Get up, Avery,” said Voldemort softly. “Stand up. You 
+ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. 
+Thirteen long years ... I want thirteen years’ 
+repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has 
+paid some of his debt already, have you not, 
+Wormtail?” 
+
+He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob. 
+
+“You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear 
+of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. 
+You know that, don’t you?” 
+
+“Yes, Master,” moaned Wormtail, “please, Master ... 
+please ...” 
+
+
+
+Page | 717 
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+“Yet you helped return me to my body,” said 
+Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the 
+ground. “Worthless and traitorous as you are, you 
+helped me . . . and Lord Voldemort rewards his 
+helpers. ...” 
+
+Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it 
+through the air. A streak of what looked like molten 
+silver hung shining in the wand’s wake. Momentarily 
+shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a 
+gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as 
+moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself 
+upon Wormtail’s bleeding wrist. 
+
+Wormtail’s sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing 
+harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in 
+disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly 
+to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling 
+glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, 
+picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it 
+into powder. 
+
+“My Lord,” he whispered. “Master ... it is beautiful ... 
+thank you ... thank you. ...” 
+
+He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the 
+hem of Voldemort’s robes. 
+
+“May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail,” said 
+Voldemort. 
+
+“No, my Lord ... never, my Lord ...” 
+
+Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, 
+staring at his powerful new hand, his face still 
+shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the 
+man on Wormtail’s right. 
+
+
+
+Page | 718 
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+
+
+“Lucius, my slippery friend,” he whispered, halting 
+before him. “I am told that you have not renounced 
+the old ways, though to the world you present a 
+respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in 
+a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried 
+to find me, Lucius. ... Your exploits at the Quidditch 
+World Cup were fun, I daresay ... but might not your 
+energies have been better directed toward finding and 
+aiding your master?” 
+
+“My Lord, I was constantly on the alert,” came Lucius 
+Malfoy’s voice swiftly from beneath the hood. “Had 
+there been any sign from you, any whisper of your 
+whereabouts, I would have been at your side 
+immediately, nothing could have prevented me — ” 
+
+“And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful 
+Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?” said 
+Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking 
+abruptly. “Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. ... You 
+have disappointed me. ... I expect more faithful 
+service in the future.” 
+
+“Of course, my Lord, of course. ... You are merciful, 
+thank you. ...” 
+
+Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the 
+space — large enough for two people — that 
+separated Malfoy and the next man. 
+
+“The Lestranges should stand here,” said Voldemort 
+quietly. “But they are entombed in Azkaban. They 
+were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than 
+renounce me. ... When Azkaban is broken open, the 
+Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The 
+dementors will join us ... they are our natural allies ... 
+we will recall the banished giants ... I shall have all 
+my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of 
+creatures whom all fear. ...” 
+
+Page | 719 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in 
+silence, but he paused before others and spoke to 
+them. 
+
+“Macnair . . . destroying dangerous beasts for the 
+Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall 
+have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord 
+Voldemort will provide. ...” 
+
+“Thank you, Master ... thank you,” murmured 
+Macnair. 
+
+“And here” — Voldemort moved on to the two largest 
+hooded figures — “we have Crabbe . . . you will do 
+better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, 
+Goyle?” 
+
+They bowed clumsily, muttering dully. 
+
+“Yes, Master ...” 
+
+“We will, Master. ...” 
+
+“The same goes for you, Nott,” said Voldemort quietly 
+as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyle ’s 
+shadow. 
+
+“My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your 
+most faithful — ” 
+
+“That will do,” said Voldemort. 
+
+He had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood 
+surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he 
+could see people standing there. 
+
+“And here we have six missing Death Eaters . . . three 
+dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return ... he 
+will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever ... he 
+
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+
+
+
+
+will be killed, of course ... and one, who remains my 
+most faithful servant, and who has already reentered 
+my service.” 
+
+The Death Eaters stirred, and Harry saw their eyes 
+dart sideways at one another through their masks. 
+
+“He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was 
+through his efforts that our young friend arrived here 
+tonight. ... 
+
+“Yes,” said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth 
+as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry’s direction. 
+“Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing 
+party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of 
+honor.” 
+
+There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right 
+of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy’s 
+voice spoke from under the mask. 
+
+“Master, we crave to know . . . we beg you to tell us . . . 
+how you have achieved this . . . this miracle . . . how 
+you managed to return to us. ...” 
+
+“Ah, what a story it is, Lucius,” said Voldemort. “And 
+it begins — and ends — with my young friend here.” 
+
+He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that 
+the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of 
+them. The snake continued to circle. 
+
+“You know, of course, that they have called this boy 
+my downfall?” Voldemort said softly, his red eyes 
+upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that 
+he almost screamed in agony. “You all know that on 
+the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill 
+him. His mother died in the attempt to save him — 
+and unwittingly provided him with a protection I 
+Page | 721 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+admit I had not foreseen. ... I could not touch the 
+boy.” 
+
+Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put 
+it very close to Harry’s cheek. 
+
+“His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice. 
+
+. . . This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I 
+was foolish to overlook it . . . but no matter. I can 
+touch him now.” 
+
+Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch 
+him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. 
+Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the 
+finger away and continued addressing the Death 
+Eaters. 
+
+“I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was 
+deflected by the woman’s foolish sacrifice, and it 
+rebounded upon myself. Aaah . . . pain beyond pain, 
+my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I 
+was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less 
+than the meanest ghost ... but still, I was alive. What 
+I was, even I do not know ... I, who have gone further 
+than anybody along the path that leads to 
+immortality. You know my goal — to conquer death. 
+And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or 
+more of my experiments had worked . . . for I had not 
+been killed, though the curse should have done it. 
+Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest 
+creature alive, and without the means to help myself 
+. . . for I had no body, and every spell that might have 
+helped me required the use of a wand. ... 
+
+“I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, 
+endlessly, second by second, to exist. ... I settled in a 
+faraway place, in a forest, and I waited. ... Surely, one 
+of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me . . . 
+one of them would come and perform the magic I 
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+
+
+
+
+could not, to restore me to a body . . . but I waited in 
+vain. ...” 
+
+The shiver ran once more around the circle of 
+listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence 
+spiral horribly before continuing. 
+
+“Only one power remained to me. I could possess the 
+bodies of others. But I dared not go where other 
+humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors 
+were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes 
+inhabited animals — snakes, of course, being my 
+preference — but I was little better off inside them 
+than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to 
+perform magic ... and my possession of them 
+shortened their lives; none of them lasted long. ... 
+
+“Then . . . four years ago . . . the means for my return 
+seemed assured. A wizard — young, foolish, and 
+gullible — wandered across my path in the forest I 
+had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I 
+had been dreaming of . . . for he was a teacher at 
+Dumbledore’s school ... he was easy to bend to my 
+will ... he brought me back to this country, and after 
+a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise 
+him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan 
+failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone. I 
+was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted ... 
+thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter. ...” 
+
+Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the 
+leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite 
+motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed 
+upon Voldemort, and upon Harry. 
+
+“The servant died when I left his body, and I was left 
+as weak as ever I had been,” Voldemort continued. “I 
+returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not 
+pretend to you that I didn’t then fear that I might 
+
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+
+
+
+
+never regain my powers. ... Yes, that was perhaps my 
+darkest hour ... I could not hope that I would be sent 
+another wizard to possess ... and I had given up hope, 
+now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had 
+become of me. ...” 
+
+One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved 
+uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice. 
+
+“And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost 
+abandoned hope, it happened at last ... a servant 
+returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his 
+own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding 
+by those he had once counted friends, and decided to 
+return to his master. He sought me in the country 
+where it had long been rumored I was hiding . . . 
+helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. 
+Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, 
+Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a 
+place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, 
+where small animals like themselves had met their 
+deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them. ... 
+
+“But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, 
+Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the 
+very forest where he had hoped to find me, he 
+foolishly stopped at an inn for some food . . . and who 
+should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a 
+witch from the Ministry of Magic. 
+
+“Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. 
+
+This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my 
+last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail — displaying 
+a presence of mind I would never have expected from 
+him — convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him 
+on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her ... he 
+brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might 
+have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my 
+
+
+
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+
+wildest dreams . . . for — with a little persuasion — she 
+became a veritable mine of information. 
+
+“She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be 
+played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she 
+knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too 
+willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She 
+told me many things . . . but the means I used to break 
+the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and 
+when I had extracted all useful information from her, 
+her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. 
+She had now served her purpose. I could not possess 
+her. I disposed of her.” 
+
+Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes 
+blank and pitiless. 
+
+“Wormtail’s body, of course, was ill adapted for 
+possession, as all assumed him dead, and would 
+attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he 
+was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor 
+wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the 
+instructions I gave him, which would return me to a 
+rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be 
+able to inhabit while awaiting the essential 
+ingredients for true rebirth ... a spell or two of my 
+own invention ... a little help from my dear Nagini,” 
+Voldemort’s red eyes fell upon the continually circling 
+snake, “a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and 
+the snake venom Nagini provided ... I was soon 
+returned to an almost human form, and strong 
+enough to travel. 
+
+“There was no hope of stealing the Sorcerer’s Stone 
+anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have 
+seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to 
+embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. 
+I set my sights lower ... I would settle for my old body 
+back again, and my old strength. 
+
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+
+
+
+
+“I knew that to achieve this — it is an old piece of 
+Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight — I 
+would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of 
+them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? 
+
+Flesh given by a servant. ... 
+
+“My father’s bone, naturally, meant that we would 
+have to come here, where he was buried. But the 
+blood of a foe ... Wormtail would have had me use any 
+wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who 
+had hated me ... as so many of them still do. But I 
+knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more 
+powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted 
+Harry Potter’s blood. I wanted the blood of the one 
+who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago . . . 
+for the lingering protection his mother once gave him 
+would then reside in my veins too. ... 
+
+“But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been 
+better protected than I think even he knows, 
+protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, 
+when it fell to him to arrange the boy’s future. 
+Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the 
+boy’s protection as long as he is in his relations’ care. 
+Not even I can touch him there. ... Then, of course, 
+there was the Quidditch World Cup. ... I thought his 
+protection might be weaker there, away from his 
+relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong 
+enough to attempt kidnap in the midst of a horde of 
+Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to 
+Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that 
+Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how 
+could I take him? 
+
+“Why ... by using Bertha Jorkins’s information, of 
+course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at 
+Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy’s name was entered 
+into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure 
+that the boy won the tournament — that he touched 
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+
+
+
+the Triwizard Cup first — the cup which my Death 
+Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring 
+him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore’s help and 
+protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is 
+... the boy you all believed had been my downfall...” 
+
+Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face 
+Harry. He raised his wand. 
+
+“Crucio\” 
+
+It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever 
+experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was 
+surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling 
+madly in his head; he wanted it to end ... to black out 
+...to die ... 
+
+And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the 
+ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort’s 
+father, looking up into those bright red eyes through 
+a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound 
+of the Death Eaters’ laughter. 
+
+“You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that 
+this boy could ever have been stronger than me,” said 
+Voldemort. “But I want there to be no mistake in 
+anybody’s mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky 
+chance. And I am now going to prove my power by 
+killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when 
+there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to 
+die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be 
+allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt 
+which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, 
+Nagini,” he whispered, and the snake glided away 
+through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood 
+watching. 
+
+“Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his 
+wand.” 
+
+Page | 727 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+PRIORI INCANTATEM 
+
+Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find 
+his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes 
+were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, 
+pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and 
+then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying 
+Harry to the gravestone. 
+
+There was a split second, perhaps, when Harry might 
+have considered running for it, but his injured leg 
+shook under him as he stood on the overgrown grave, 
+as the Death Eaters closed ranks, forming a tighter 
+circle around him and Voldemort, so that the gaps 
+where the missing Death Eaters should have stood 
+were filled. Wormtail walked out of the circle to the 
+place where Cedric’s body lay and returned with 
+Harry’s wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry’s 
+hand without looking at him. Then Wormtail resumed 
+his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters. 
+
+“You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?” 
+said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through 
+the darkness. 
+
+Page | 728 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+At these words Harry remembered, as though from a 
+former life, the dueling club at Hogwarts he had 
+attended briefly two years ago. ... All he had learned 
+there was the Disarming Spell, “ Expelliarmus” ... and 
+what use would it be to deprive Voldemort of his 
+wand, even if he could, when he was surrounded by 
+Death Eaters, outnumbered by at least thirty to one? 
+He had never learned anything that could possibly fit 
+him for this. He knew he was facing the thing against 
+which Moody had always warned . . . the un-blockable 
+Avada Kedavra curse — and Voldemort was right — 
+his mother was not here to die for him this time. ... 
+
+He was quite unprotected. ... 
+
+“We bow to each other, Harry,” said Voldemort, 
+bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face 
+upturned to Harry. “Come, the niceties must be 
+observed. ... Dumbledore would like you to show 
+manners. ... Bow to death, Harry. ...” 
+
+The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort’s 
+lipless mouth was smiling. Harry did not bow. He was 
+not going to let Voldemort play with him before killing 
+him ... he was not going to give him that satisfaction. 
+
+
+
+“I said, bow,” Voldemort said, raising his wand — and 
+Harry felt his spine curve as though a huge, invisible 
+hand were bending him ruthlessly forward, and the 
+Death Eaters laughed harder than ever. 
+
+“Very good,” said Voldemort softly, and as he raised 
+his wand the pressure bearing down upon Harry lifted 
+too. “And now you face me, like a man ... straight- 
+backed and proud, the way your father died. ... 
+
+“And now — we duel.” 
+
+
+
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+
+
+Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do 
+anything to defend himself, before he could even 
+move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. 
+The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no 
+longer knew where he was. ... White-hot knives were 
+piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely 
+going to burst with pain, he was screaming more 
+loudly than he’d ever screamed in his life — 
+
+And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled 
+to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as 
+Wormtail had done when his hand had been cut off; 
+he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death 
+Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward 
+Voldemort. 
+
+“A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils 
+dilating with excitement, “a little pause . . . That hurt, 
+didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, 
+do you?” 
+
+Harry didn’t answer. He was going to die like Cedric, 
+those pitiless red eyes were telling him so ... he was 
+going to die, and there was nothing he could do about 
+it... but he wasn’t going to play along. He wasn’t going 
+to obey Voldemort ... he wasn’t going to beg. ... 
+
+“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” 
+said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! ImperioV’ 
+
+And Harry felt, for the third time in his life, the 
+sensation that his mind had been wiped of all 
+thought. ... Ah, it was bliss, not to think, it was as 
+though he were floating, dreaming ... just answer no 
+. . . say no ... just answer no. . . . 
+
+I will not, said a stronger voice, in the back of his 
+head, I won’t answer. ... 
+
+
+
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+Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
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+
+
+Just answer no. ... 
+
+
+
+I won’t do it, I won’t say it. ... 
+
+Just answer no. ... 
+
+“I WONT!” 
+
+And these words burst from Harry’s mouth; they 
+echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state 
+was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been 
+thrown over him — back rushed the aches that the 
+Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body — back 
+rushed the realization of where he was, and what he 
+was facing. ... 
+
+“You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death 
+Eaters were not laughing now. “You won’t say no? 
+Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before 
+you die. ... Perhaps another little dose of pain?” 
+
+Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was 
+ready; with the reflexes born of his Quidditch 
+training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground; 
+he rolled behind the marble headstone of Voldemort’s 
+father, and he heard it crack as the curse missed 
+him. 
+
+“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said 
+Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the 
+Death Eaters laughed. “You cannot hide from me. 
+
+Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this 
+mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, 
+
+Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then 
+...it will be quick ... it might even be painless ... I 
+would not know ... I have never died. ...” 
+
+Harry crouched behind the headstone and knew the 
+end had come. There was no hope ... no help to be 
+
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+had. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he 
+knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or 
+reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a 
+child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die 
+kneeling at Voldemort’s feet ... he was going to die 
+upright like his father, and he was going to die trying 
+to defend himself, even if no defense was possible. ... 
+
+Before Voldemort could stick his snakelike face 
+around the headstone, Harry stood up ... he gripped 
+his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of 
+him, and threw himself around the headstone, facing 
+Voldemort. 
+
+Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, 
+
+“ ExpelliarmusV’ Voldemort cried, “Avada KedavraV’ 
+
+A jet of green light issued from Voldemort’s wand just 
+as a jet of red light blasted from Harry’s — they met 
+in midair — and suddenly Harry’s wand was vibrating 
+as though an electric charge were surging through it; 
+his hand seized up around it; he couldn’t have 
+released it if he’d wanted to — and a narrow beam of 
+light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, 
+but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with 
+his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort’s long white 
+fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking 
+and vibrating. 
+
+And then — nothing could have prepared Harry for 
+this — he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and 
+Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their 
+wands still connected by that thread of shimmering 
+golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of 
+Voldemort’s father and then came to rest on a patch 
+of ground that was clear and free of graves. ... The 
+Death Eaters were shouting; they were asking 
+Voldemort for instructions; they were closing in, 
+reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the 
+Page | 732 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
+
+
+
+
+snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing 
+their wands — 
+
+
+
+The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort 
+splintered; though the wands remained connected, a 
+thousand more beams arced high over Harry and 
+Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they 
+were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage 
+of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like 
+jackals, their cries strangely muffled now. ... 
+
+“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death 
+Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with 
+astonishment at what was happening, saw him 
+fighting to break the thread of light still connecting 
+his wand with Harry’s; Harry held onto his wand 
+more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread 
+remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command 
+you!” Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters. 
+
+And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the 
+air. ... It was coming from every thread of the light- 
+spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It 
+was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard 
+it only once before in his life: phoenix song. 
+
+It was the sound of hope to Harry . . . the most 
+beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his 
+life. ... He felt as though the song were inside him 
+instead of just around him. ... It was the sound he 
+connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as 
+though a friend were speaking in his ear. . . . 
+
+Don’t break the connection. 
+
+I know, Harry told the music, I know I mustn’t ... but 
+no sooner had he thought it, than the thing became 
+much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more 
+powerfully than ever . . . and now the beam between 
+
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+
+him and Voldemort changed too ... it was as though 
+large beads of light were sliding up and down the 
+thread connecting the wands — Harry felt his wand 
+give a shudder under his hand as the light beads 
+began to slide slowly and steadily his way. . . . The 
+direction of the beam’s movement was now toward 
+him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder 
+angrily. ... 
+
+As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry’s 
+wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he 
+feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead 
+moved, the harder Harry’s wand vibrated; he was sure 
+his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as 
+though it was about to shatter under his fingers — 
+
+He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon 
+forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full 
+of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed ... and slowly, 
+very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, 
+just as slowly, they began to move the other way ... 
+and it was Voldemort ’s wand that was vibrating extra- 
+hard now ... Voldemort who looked astonished, and 
+almost fearful. ... 
+
+One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from 
+the tip of Voldemort’s wand. Harry didn’t understand 
+why he was doing it, didn’t know what it might 
+achieve . . . but he now concentrated as he had never 
+done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back 
+into Voldemort’s wand ... and slowly ... very slowly ... 
+it moved along the golden thread ... it trembled for a 
+moment... and then it connected. ... 
+
+At once, Voldemort’s wand began to emit echoing 
+screams of pain ... then — Voldemort’s red eyes 
+widened with shock — a dense, smoky hand flew out 
+of the tip of it and vanished . . . the ghost of the hand 
+he had made Wormtail ... more shouts of pain ... and 
+Page | 734 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J.K. Rowling 
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+
+
+
+then something much larger began to blossom from 
+Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, 
+that looked as though it were made of the solidest, 
+densest smoke. ... It was a head ... now a chest and 
+arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory. 
+
+If ever Harry might have released his wand from 
+shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him 
+clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of 
+golden light remained unbroken, even though the 
+thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it 
+looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of 
+Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself 
+out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of 
+Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden 
+thread of light, and spoke. 
+
+“Hold on, Harry,” it said. 
+
+Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at 
+Voldemort . . . his wide red eyes were still shocked . . . 
+he had no more expected this than Harry had . . . and, 
+very dimly, Harry heard the frightened yells of the 
+Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the 
+golden dome. ... 
+
+More screams of pain from the wand . . . and then 
+something else emerged from its tip . . . the dense 
+shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms 
+and torso ... an old man Harry had seen only in a 
+dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the 
+wand just as Cedric had done ... and his ghost, or his 
+shadow, or whatever it was, fell next to Cedric’s, and 
+surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, 
+and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning 
+on his walking stick. . . . 
+
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+“He was a real wizard, then?” the old man said, his 
+eyes on Voldemort. “Killed me, that one did. ... You 
+fight him, boy. ...” 
+
+But already, yet another head was emerging . . . and 
+this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman’s. ... 
+Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep 
+his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and 
+straighten up like the others, staring. ... 
+
+The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle 
+before her with wide eyes. 
+
+“Don’t let go, now!” she cried, and her voice echoed 
+like Cedric’s as though from very far away. “Don’t let 
+him get you, Harry — don’t let go!” 
+
+She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace 
+around the inner walls of the golden web, while the 
+Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it ... and 
+Voldemort’s dead victims whispered as they circled 
+the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to 
+Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn’t hear to 
+Voldemort. 
+
+And now another head was emerging from the tip of 
+Voldemort’s wand ... and Harry knew when he saw it 
+who it would be ... he knew, as though he had 
+expected it from the moment when Cedric had 
+appeared from the wand . . . knew, because the woman 
+was the one he’d thought of more than any other 
+tonight. ... 
+
+The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair 
+fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened 
+up, and looked at him ... and Harry, his arms shaking 
+madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his 
+mother. 
+
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+“Your father’s coming ...” she said quietly. “Hold on 
+for your father ... it will be all right ... hold on. ...” 
+
+And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall 
+and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy 
+form of James Potter blossomed from the end of 
+Voldemort’s wand, fell to the ground, and 
+straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, 
+looking down at him, and he spoke in the same 
+distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so 
+that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his 
+victims prowled around him, could not hear. . . . 
+
+“When the connection is broken, we will linger for 
+only moments . . . but we will give you time . . . you 
+must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts 
+... do you understand, Harry?” 
+
+“Yes,” Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on 
+his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his 
+fingers. 
+
+“Harry ...” whispered the figure of Cedric, “take my 
+body back, will you? Take my body back to my 
+parents. ...” 
+
+“I will,” said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort 
+of holding the wand. 
+
+“Do it now,” whispered his father’s voice, “be ready to 
+run ... do it now. ...” 
+
+“NOW!” Harry yelled; he didn’t think he could have 
+held on for another moment anyway — he pulled his 
+wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the 
+golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the 
+phoenix song died — but the shadowy figures of 
+Voldemort’s victims did not disappear — they were 
+
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+closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his 
+gaze — 
+
+And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, 
+knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he 
+passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their 
+curses following him, hearing them hit the 
+headstones — he was dodging curses and graves, 
+pelting toward Cedric’s body, no longer aware of the 
+pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what 
+he had to do — 
+
+“Stun him\” he heard Voldemort scream. 
+
+Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble 
+angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of 
+its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand 
+more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel — 
+
+“Impedimental” he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly 
+over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him. 
+
+From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at 
+least one of them, but there was no time to stop and 
+look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard 
+more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew 
+over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to 
+grab Cedric’s arm — 
+
+“Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!” shrieked 
+Voldemort. 
+
+Harry’s hand had closed on Cedric’s wrist; one 
+tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but 
+Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of 
+reach — 
+
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+Voldemort’s red eyes flamed in the darkness. Harry 
+saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his 
+wand. 
+
+“Acciol” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the 
+Triwizard Cup. 
+
+It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry 
+caught it by the handle — 
+
+He heard Voldemort’s scream of fury at the same 
+moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that 
+meant the Portkey had worked — it was speeding him 
+away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along 
+with him. ... They were going back. 
+
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+VERITASERUM 
+
+Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face 
+was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled his 
+nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey 
+transported him, and he kept them closed now. He 
+did not move. All the breath seemed to have been 
+knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly 
+he felt as though the ground beneath him were 
+swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold himself 
+steady, he tightened his hold on the two things he 
+was still clutching: the smooth, cold handle of the Tri- 
+wizard Cup and Cedric’s body. He felt as though he 
+would slide away into the blackness gathering at the 
+edges of his brain if he let go of either of them. Shock 
+and exhaustion kept him on the ground, breathing in 
+the smell of the grass, waiting ... waiting for someone 
+to do something . . . something to happen . . . and all 
+the while, his scar burned dully on his forehead. ... 
+
+A torrent of sound deafened and confused him; there 
+were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams. ... He 
+remained where he was, his face screwed up against 
+
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+the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would 
+pass. ... 
+
+Then a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned 
+him over. 
+
+“Harry! HarryV’ 
+
+He opened his eyes. 
+
+He was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus 
+Dumbledore was crouched over him. The dark 
+shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around 
+them, pushing nearer; Harry felt the ground beneath 
+his head reverberating with their footsteps. 
+
+He had come back to the edge of the maze. He could 
+see the stands rising above him, the shapes of people 
+moving in them, the stars above. 
+
+Harry let go of the cup, but he clutched Cedric to him 
+even more tightly. He raised his free hand and seized 
+Dumbledore ’s wrist, while Dumbledore ’s face swam in 
+and out of focus. 
+
+“He’s back,” Harry whispered. “He’s back. Voldemort.” 
+
+“What’s going on? What’s happened?” 
+
+The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down 
+over Harry; it looked white, appalled. 
+
+“My God — Diggory!” it whispered. “Dumbledore — 
+he’s dead!” 
+
+The words were repeated, the shadowy figures 
+pressing in on them gasped it to those around them 
+. . . and then others shouted it — screeched it — into 
+
+
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+the night — “He’s dead!” “He’s dead!” “Cedric Diggory! 
+Dead).” 
+
+
+
+“Harry, let go of him,” he heard Fudge’s voice say, and 
+he felt fingers trying to pry him from Cedric’s limp 
+body, but Harry wouldn’t let him go. Then 
+Dumbledore’s face, which was still blurred and 
+misted, came closer. 
+
+“Harry, you can’t help him now. It’s over. Let go.” 
+
+“He wanted me to bring him back,” Harry muttered — 
+it seemed important to explain this. “He wanted me to 
+bring him back to his parents. ...” 
+
+“That’s right, Harry ... just let go now. ...” 
+
+Dumbledore bent down, and with extraordinary 
+strength for a man so old and thin, raised Harry from 
+the ground and set him on his feet. Harry swayed. His 
+head was pounding. His injured leg would no longer 
+support his weight. The crowd around them jostled, 
+fighting to get closer, pressing darkly in on him — 
+“What’s happened?” “What’s wrong with him?” 
+
+“Dig gory’s dead\” 
+
+“He’ll need to go to the hospital wing!” Fudge was 
+saying loudly. “He’s ill, he’s injured — Dumbledore, 
+Diggory’s parents, they’re here, they’re in the stands. 
+
+
+
+“I’ll take Harry, Dumbledore, I’ll take him — ” 
+
+“No, I would prefer — ” 
+
+“Dumbledore, Amos Diggory’s running ... he’s coming 
+over. ... Don’t you think you should tell him — before 
+he sees — ?” 
+
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+“Harry, stay here — ” 
+
+
+
+Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically. . . . The 
+scene flickered oddly before Harry’s eyes. ... 
+
+“It’s all right, son, I’ve got you ... come on ... hospital 
+wing ...” 
+
+“Dumbledore said stay,” said Harry thickly, the 
+pounding in his scar making him feel as though he 
+was about to throw up; his vision was blurring worse 
+than ever. 
+
+“You need to lie down. ... Come on now. ...” 
+
+Someone larger and stronger than he was was half 
+pulling, half carrying him through the frightened 
+crowd. Harry heard people gasping, screaming, and 
+shouting as the man supporting him pushed a path 
+through them, taking him back to the castle. Across 
+the lawn, past the lake and the Durmstrang ship, 
+Harry heard nothing but the heavy breathing of the 
+man helping him walk. 
+
+“What happened, Harry?” the man asked at last as he 
+lifted Harry up the stone steps. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. 
+
+It was Mad-Eye Moody. 
+
+“Cup was a Portkey,” said Harry as they crossed the 
+entrance hall. “Took me and Cedric to a graveyard ... 
+and Voldemort was there ... Lord Voldemort ...” 
+
+Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Up the marble stairs ... 
+
+“The Dark Lord was there? What happened then?” 
+
+“Killed Cedric ... they killed Cedric. ...” 
+
+“And then?” 
+
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+
+
+
+Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Along the corridor . . . 
+
+“Made a potion ... got his body back. ...” 
+
+“The Dark Lord got his body back? He’s returned?” 
+“And the Death Eaters came ... and then we dueled. 
+
+
+
+“You dueled with the Dark Lord?” 
+
+“Got away . . . my wand . . . did something funny. ... I 
+saw my mum and dad ... they came out of his wand. 
+
+
+
+“In here, Harry ... in here, and sit down. ... You’ll be 
+all right now ... drink this. ...” 
+
+Harry heard a key scrape in a lock and felt a cup 
+being pushed into his hands. 
+
+“Drink it ... you’ll feel better ... come on, now, Harry, I 
+need to know exactly what happened. ...” 
+
+Moody helped tip the stuff down Harry’s throat; he 
+coughed, a peppery taste burning his throat. Moody’s 
+office came into sharper focus, and so did Moody 
+himself. ... He looked as white as Fudge had looked, 
+and both eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Harry’s 
+face. 
+
+“Voldemort’s back, Harry? You’re sure he’s back? How 
+did he do it?” 
+
+“He took stuff from his father’s grave, and from 
+Wormtail, and me,” said Harry. His head felt clearer; 
+his scar wasn’t hurting so badly; he could now see 
+Moody’s face distinctly, even though the office was 
+
+
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+dark. He could still hear screaming and shouting 
+from the distant Quidditch field. 
+
+
+
+“What did the Dark Lord take from you?” said Moody. 
+
+“Blood,” said Harry, raising his arm. His sleeve was 
+ripped where Wormtail’s dagger had torn it. 
+
+Moody let out his breath in a long, low hiss. 
+
+“And the Death Eaters? They returned?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Harry. “Loads of them ...” 
+
+“How did he treat them?” Moody asked quietly. “Did 
+he forgive them?” 
+
+But Harry had suddenly remembered. He should have 
+told Dumbledore, he should have said it straightaway 
+
+
+
+“There’s a Death Eater at Hogwarts! There’s a Death 
+Eater here — they put my name in the Goblet of Fire, 
+they made sure I got through to the end — ” 
+
+Harry tried to get up, but Moody pushed him back 
+down. 
+
+“I know who the Death Eater is,” he said quietly. 
+
+“Karkaroff?” said Harry wildly. “Where is he? Have 
+you got him? Is he locked up?” 
+
+“Karkaroff?” said Moody with an odd laugh. 
+
+“Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark 
+burn upon his arm. He betrayed too many faithful 
+supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them . . . 
+but I doubt he will get far. The Dark Lord has ways of 
+tracking his enemies.” 
+
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+
+“Karkaroff’s gone? He ran away? But then — he didn’t 
+put my name in the goblet?” 
+
+
+
+“No,” said Moody slowly. “No, he didn’t. It was I who 
+did that.” 
+
+Harry heard, but didn’t believe. 
+
+“No, you didn’t,” he said. “You didn’t do that ... you 
+can’t have done ...” 
+
+“I assure you I did,” said Moody, and his magical eye 
+swung around and fixed upon the door, and Harry 
+knew he was making sure that there was no one 
+outside it. At the same time, Moody drew out his 
+wand and pointed it at Harry. 
+
+“He forgave them, then?” he said. “The Death Eaters 
+who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?” 
+
+“What?” said Harry. 
+
+He was looking at the wand Moody was pointing at 
+him. This was a bad joke, it had to be. 
+
+“I asked you,” said Moody quietly, “whether he forgave 
+the scum who never even went to look for him. Those 
+treacherous cowards who wouldn’t even brave 
+Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth 
+who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the 
+Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark 
+Mark when I fired it into the sky.” 
+
+“ You fired . . . What are you talking about ... ?” 
+
+“I told you, Harry ... I told you. If there’s one thing I 
+hate more than any other, it’s a Death Eater who 
+walked free. They turned their backs on my master 
+when he needed them most. I expected him to punish 
+
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+them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt 
+them, Harry. ...” Moody’s face was suddenly lit with 
+an insane smile. “Tell me he told them that I, I alone 
+remained faithful . . . prepared to risk everything to 
+deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all ... 
+you.” 
+
+“You didn’t ... it — it can’t be you. ...” 
+
+“Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the 
+name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off 
+every person I thought might try to hurt you or 
+prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who 
+nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons? I did. 
+Who helped you see the only way you could beat the 
+dragon? I did.” 
+
+Moody’s magical eye had now left the door. It was 
+fixed upon Harry. His lopsided mouth leered more 
+widely than ever. 
+
+“It hasn’t been easy, Harry, guiding you through these 
+tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use 
+every ounce of cunning I possess, so that my hand 
+would not be detectable in your success. Dumbledore 
+would have been very suspicious if you had managed 
+everything too easily. As long as you got into that 
+maze, preferably with a decent head start — then, I 
+knew, I would have a chance of getting rid of the 
+other champions and leaving your way clear. But I 
+also had to contend with your stupidity. The second 
+task . . . that was when I was most afraid we would 
+fail. I was keeping watch on you, Potter. I knew you 
+hadn’t worked out the egg’s clue, so I had to give you 
+another hint — ” 
+
+“You didn’t,” Harry said hoarsely. “Cedric gave me the 
+clue — ” 
+
+
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+“Who told Cedric to open it underwater? I did. I 
+trusted that he would pass the information on to you. 
+Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter. I was 
+sure Cedric would want to repay you for telling him 
+about the dragons, and so he did. But even then, 
+Potter, even then you seemed likely to fail. I was 
+watching all the time ... all those hours in the library. 
+Didn’t you realize that the book you needed was in 
+your dormitory all along? I planted it there early on, I 
+gave it to the Longbottom boy, don’t you remember? 
+Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It would 
+have told you all you needed to know about gillyweed. 
+
+I expected you to ask everyone and anyone you could 
+for help. Longbottom would have told you in an 
+instant. But you did not ... you did not. ... You have a 
+streak of pride and independence that might have 
+ruined all. 
+
+“So what could I do? Feed you information from 
+another innocent source. You told me at the Yule Ball 
+a house-elf called Dobby had given you a Christmas 
+present. I called the elf to the staffroom to collect 
+some robes for cleaning. I staged a loud conversation 
+with Professor McGonagall about the hostages who 
+had been taken, and whether Potter would think to 
+use gillyweed. And your little elf friend ran straight to 
+Snape’s office and then hurried to find you. ...” 
+
+Moody’s wand was still pointing directly at Harry’s 
+heart. Over his shoulder, foggy shapes were moving in 
+the Foe-Glass on the wall. 
+
+“You were so long in that lake, Potter, I thought you 
+had drowned. But luckily, Dumbledore took your 
+idiocy for nobility, and marked you high for it. I 
+breathed again. 
+
+“You had an easier time of it than you should have in 
+that maze tonight, of course,” said Moody. “I was 
+
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+patrolling around it, able to see through the outer 
+hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. 
+I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the 
+Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish 
+Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear.” 
+
+Harry stared at Moody. He just didn’t see how this 
+could be. ... Dumbledore’s friend, the famous Auror 
+. . . the one who had caught so many Death Eaters . . . 
+
+It made no sense ... no sense at all. ... 
+
+The foggy shapes in the Foe-Glass were sharpening, 
+had become more distinct. Harry could see the 
+outlines of three people over Moody’s shoulder, 
+moving closer and closer. But Moody wasn’t watching 
+them. His magical eye was upon Harry. 
+
+“The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you, Potter, and 
+he so wanted to,” whispered Moody. “Imagine how he 
+will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I 
+gave you to him — the thing he needed above all to 
+regenerate — and then I killed you for him. I will be 
+honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his 
+dearest, his closest supporter ... closer than a son. ...” 
+
+Moody’s normal eye was bulging, the magical eye 
+fixed upon Harry. The door was barred, and Harry 
+knew he would never reach his own wand in time. ... 
+
+“The Dark Lord and I,” said Moody, and he looked 
+completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering 
+down at him, “have much in common. Both of us, for 
+instance, had very disappointing fathers ... very 
+disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the 
+indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. 
+And both of us had the pleasure . . . the very great 
+pleasure ... of killing our fathers to ensure the 
+continued rise of the Dark Order!” 
+
+
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+“You’re mad,” Harry said — he couldn’t stop himself 
+— “you’re mad!” 
+
+
+
+“Mad, am I?” said Moody, his voice rising 
+uncontrollably. “We’ll see! We’ll see who’s mad, now 
+that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! 
+He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him — 
+and now — I conquer you!” 
+
+Moody raised his wand, he opened his mouth; Harry 
+plunged his own hand into his robes — 
+
+“Stupefy\” There was a blinding flash of red light, and 
+with a great splintering and crashing, the door of 
+Moody’s office was blasted apart — 
+
+Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. 
+Harry, still staring at the place where Moody’s face 
+had been, saw Albus Dumbledore, Professor Snape, 
+and Professor McGonagall looking back at him out of 
+the Foe-Glass. He looked around and saw the three of 
+them standing in the doorway, Dumbledore in front, 
+his wand outstretched. 
+
+At that moment, Harry fully understood for the first 
+time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard 
+Voldemort had ever feared. The look upon 
+Dumbledore ’s face as he stared down at the 
+unconscious form of Mad-Eye Moody was more 
+terrible than Harry could have ever imagined. There 
+was no benign smile upon Dumbledore ’s face, no 
+twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was 
+cold fury in every line of the ancient face; a sense of 
+power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were 
+giving off burning heat. 
+
+He stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath 
+Moody’s unconscious body, and kicked him over onto 
+his back, so that his face was visible. Snape followed 
+
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+him, looking into the Foe-Glass, where his own face 
+was still visible, glaring into the room. Professor 
+McGonagall went straight to Harry. 
+
+“Come along, Potter,” she whispered. The thin line of 
+her mouth was twitching as though she was about to 
+cry. “Come along ... hospital wing ...” 
+
+“No,” said Dumbledore sharply. 
+
+“Dumbledore, he ought to — look at him — he’s been 
+through enough tonight — ” 
+
+“He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to 
+understand,” said Dumbledore curtly. “Understanding 
+is the first step to acceptance, and only with 
+acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know 
+who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered 
+tonight, and why.” 
+
+“Moody,” Harry said. He was still in a state of 
+complete disbelief. “How can it have been Moody?” 
+
+“This is not Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore quietly. 
+“You have never known Alastor Moody. The real 
+Moody would not have removed you from my sight 
+after what happened tonight. The moment he took 
+you, I knew — and I followed.” 
+
+Dumbledore bent down over Moody’s limp form and 
+put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody’s 
+hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned 
+to Professors McGonagall and Snape. 
+
+“Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion 
+you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and 
+bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly 
+go down to Hagrid’s house, where you will find a large 
+black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog 
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+up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, 
+then come back here.” 
+
+If either Snape or McGonagall found these 
+instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both 
+turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked 
+over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key 
+in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of 
+spell-books. Dumbledore closed the trunk, placed a 
+second key in the second lock, and opened the trunk 
+again. The spellbooks had vanished; this time it 
+contained an assortment of broken Sneako-scopes, 
+some parchment and quills, and what looked like a 
+silvery Invisibility Cloak. Harry watched, astounded, 
+as Dumbledore placed the third, fourth, fifth, and 
+sixth keys in their respective locks, reopening the 
+trunk, and each time revealing different contents. 
+Then he placed the seventh key in the lock, threw 
+open the lid, and Harry let out a cry of amazement. 
+
+He was looking down into a kind of pit, an 
+underground room, and lying on the floor some ten 
+feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in 
+appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His 
+wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have 
+held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, 
+and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing. Harry 
+stared, thunderstruck, between the sleeping Moody in 
+the trunk and the unconscious Moody lying on the 
+floor of the office. 
+
+Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself, 
+and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping 
+Moody. He bent over him. 
+
+“Stunned — controlled by the Imperius Curse — very 
+weak,” he said. “Of course, they would have needed to 
+keep him alive. Harry, throw down the imposter’s 
+
+
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+cloak — he’s freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see 
+him, but he seems in no immediate danger.” 
+
+Harry did as he was told; Dumbledore covered Moody 
+in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered 
+out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip 
+flask that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and 
+turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto 
+the office floor. 
+
+“Polyjuice Potion, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “You see 
+the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody 
+never does drink except from his hip flask, he’s well 
+known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep 
+the real Moody close by, so that he could continue 
+making the potion. You see his hair ...” Dumbledore 
+looked down on the Moody in the trunk. “The 
+imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it 
+is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, 
+our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as 
+frequently as he should have done ... on the hour . . . 
+every hour. ... We shall see.” 
+
+Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat 
+down upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious 
+Moody on the floor. Harry stared at him too. Minutes 
+passed in silence. ... 
+
+Then, before Harry’s very eyes, the face of the man on 
+the floor began to change. The scars were 
+disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the 
+mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. 
+The long mane of grizzled gray hair was withdrawing 
+into the scalp and turning the color of straw. 
+Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away 
+as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the 
+magical eyeball had popped out of the man’s face as a 
+real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and 
+continued to swivel in every direction. 
+
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+Harry saw a man lying before him, pale-skinned, 
+slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. He knew who 
+he was. He had seen him in Dumbledore’s Pensieve, 
+had watched him being led away from court by the 
+dementors, trying to convince Mr. Crouch that he was 
+innocent . . . but he was lined around the eyes now 
+and looked much older. . . . 
+
+There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. 
+Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. 
+
+Professor McGonagall was right behind them. 
+
+“Crouch!” Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. 
+“Barty Crouch!” 
+
+“Good heavens,” said Professor McGonagall, stopping 
+dead and staring down at the man on the floor. 
+
+Filthy, disheveled, Winky peered around Snape’s legs. 
+Her mouth opened wide and she let out a piercing 
+shriek. 
+
+“Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?” 
+
+She flung herself forward onto the young man’s chest. 
+
+“You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed 
+Master’s son!” 
+
+“He is simply Stunned, Winky,” said Dumbledore. 
+“Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?” 
+
+Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of 
+completely clear liquid: the Veritaserum with which 
+he had threatened Harry in class. Dumbledore got up, 
+bent over the man on the floor, and pulled him into a 
+sitting position against the wall beneath the Foe- 
+Glass, in which the reflections of Dumbledore, Snape, 
+and McGonagall were still glaring down upon them 
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+all. Winky remained on her knees, trembling, her 
+hands over her face. Dumbledore forced the man’s 
+mouth open and poured three drops inside it. Then 
+he pointed his wand at the man’s chest and said, 
+“Rennervate.” 
+
+Crouch’s son opened his eyes. His face was slack, his 
+gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that 
+their faces were level. 
+
+“Can you hear me?” Dumbledore asked quietly. 
+
+The man’s eyelids flickered. 
+
+“Yes,” he muttered. 
+
+“I would like you to tell us,” said Dumbledore softly, 
+“how you came to be here. How did you escape from 
+Azkaban?” 
+
+Crouch took a deep, shuddering breath, then began 
+to speak in a flat, expressionless voice. 
+
+“My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She 
+persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to 
+her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He 
+agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draft of 
+Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother’s hairs. 
+She took a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of 
+my hairs. We took on each other’s appearance.” 
+
+Winky was shaking her head, trembling. 
+
+“Say no more, Master Barty, say no more, you is 
+getting your father into trouble!” 
+
+But Crouch took another deep breath and continued 
+in the same flat voice. 
+
+
+
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+“The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, 
+one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one 
+healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father 
+smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case 
+any prisoners were watching through their doors. 
+
+“My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. 
+She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the 
+end. She was buried under my name and bearing my 
+appearance. Everyone believed her to be me.” 
+
+The man’s eyelids flickered. 
+
+“And what did your father do with you, when he had 
+got you home?” said Dumbledore quietly. 
+
+“Staged my mother’s death. A quiet, private funeral. 
+That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to 
+health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be 
+controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to 
+subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I 
+thought only of finding my master ... of returning to 
+his service.” 
+
+“How did your father subdue you?” said Dumbledore. 
+
+“The Imperius Curse,” Crouch said. “I was under my 
+father’s control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility 
+Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. 
+She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She 
+persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. 
+Rewards for my good behavior.” 
+
+“Master Barty, Master Barty,” sobbed Winky through 
+her hands. “You isn’t ought to tell them, we is getting 
+in trouble. ...” 
+
+
+
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+“Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?” 
+said Dumbledore softly. “Did anyone know except 
+your father and the house-elf?” 
+
+“Yes,” said Crouch, his eyelids flickering again. “A 
+witch in my father’s office. Bertha Jorkins. She came 
+to the house with papers for my father’s signature. He 
+was not at home. Winky showed her inside and 
+returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins 
+heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. 
+She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the 
+Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She 
+confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory 
+Charm on her to make her forget what she’d found 
+out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory 
+permanently.” 
+
+“Why is she coming to nose into my master’s private 
+business?” sobbed Winky. “Why isn’t she leaving us 
+be?” 
+
+“Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup,” said 
+Dumbledore. 
+
+“Winky talked my father into it,” said Crouch, still in 
+the same monotonous voice. “She spent months 
+persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I 
+had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be 
+in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell 
+fresh air for once. She said my mother would have 
+wanted it. She told my father that my mother had 
+died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a 
+life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end. 
+
+“It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky 
+up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say 
+that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit 
+there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we 
+
+
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+would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. 
+Nobody would ever know. 
+
+“But Winky didn’t know that I was growing stronger. I 
+was starting to fight my father’s Imperius Curse. 
+
+There were times when I was almost myself again. 
+There were brief periods when I seemed outside his 
+control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like 
+waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in 
+public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front 
+of me, a wand sticking out of a boy’s pocket. I had not 
+been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. 
+Winky didn’t know. Winky is frightened of heights. 
+
+She had her face hidden.” 
+
+“Master Barty, you bad boy!” whispered Winky, tears 
+trickling between her fingers. 
+
+“So you took the wand,” said Dumbledore, “and what 
+did you do with it?” 
+
+“We went back to the tent,” said Crouch. “Then we 
+heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones 
+who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had 
+never suffered for my master. They had turned their 
+backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They 
+were free to seek him, but they did not. They were 
+merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their 
+voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had 
+been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted 
+to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My 
+father had left the tent; he had gone to free the 
+Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She 
+used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She 
+pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, 
+away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I 
+wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show 
+those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord 
+
+
+
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+meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used 
+the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky. 
+
+“Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells 
+everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees 
+where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us 
+was broken. We were both Stunned. 
+
+“When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must 
+be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had 
+been found and felt me lying there. He waited until 
+the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put 
+me back under the Imperius Curse and took me 
+home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She 
+had let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me 
+escape.” 
+
+Winky let out a wail of despair. 
+
+“Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And 
+then ... and then ...” Crouch’s head rolled on his 
+neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. “My 
+master came for me. 
+
+“He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of 
+his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I 
+was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in 
+Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great 
+deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. 
+She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach 
+at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through 
+the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. 
+She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told 
+him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from 
+seeking my master. And so my master knew that I 
+was still his faithful servant — perhaps the most 
+faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based 
+upon the information Bertha had given him. He 
+
+
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+needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. 
+
+My father answered the door.” 
+
+The smile spread wider over Crouch’s face, as though 
+recalling the sweetest memory of his life. Winky’s 
+petrified brown eyes were visible through her fingers. 
+She seemed too appalled to speak. 
+
+“It was very quick. My father was placed under the 
+Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the 
+one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to 
+go about his business as usual, to act as though 
+nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I 
+was myself again, alive as I hadn’t been in years.” 
+
+“And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?” said 
+Dumbledore. 
+
+“He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything 
+for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest 
+ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He 
+told me he needed to place a faithful servant at 
+Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter 
+through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing 
+to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry 
+Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn 
+the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first 
+person to touch it to my master. But first — ” 
+
+“You needed Alastor Moody,” said Dumbledore. His 
+blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained 
+calm. 
+
+“Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice 
+Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody 
+put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We 
+managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into 
+a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some 
+of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I 
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+
+became Moody’s double. I took his leg and his eye. I 
+was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to 
+sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I 
+made the dustbins move around the yard. I told 
+Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, 
+who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up 
+Moody’s clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the 
+trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept 
+him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be 
+able to question him. To find out about his past, learn 
+his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I 
+also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The 
+other ingredients were easy. I stole boom-slang skin 
+from the dungeons. When the Potions master found 
+me in his office, I said I was under orders to search 
+it.” 
+
+“And what became of Wormtail after you attacked 
+Moody?” said Dumbledore. 
+
+“Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my 
+father’s house, and to keep watch over my father.” 
+
+“But your father escaped,” said Dumbledore. 
+
+“Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius 
+Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he 
+knew what was happening. My master decided it was 
+no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He 
+forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He 
+made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail 
+neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My 
+father escaped. My master guessed that he was 
+heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell 
+Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to 
+admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban. 
+
+“My master sent me word of my father’s escape. He 
+told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and 
+
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+watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry 
+Potter. The map that had almost mined everything.” 
+
+“Map?” said Dumbledore quickly. “What map is this?” 
+
+“Potter’s map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter 
+saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice 
+Potion from Snape’s office one night. He thought I was 
+my father. We have the same first name. I took the 
+map from Potter that night. I told him my father 
+hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was 
+after Snape. 
+
+“For a week I waited for my father to arrive at 
+Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my 
+father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility 
+Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking 
+around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and 
+Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master 
+needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned 
+Krum. I killed my father.” 
+
+“iVoooo!” wailed Winky. “Master Barty, Master Barty, 
+what is you saying?” 
+
+“You killed your father,” Dumbledore said, in the 
+same soft voice. “What did you do with the body?” 
+
+“Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the 
+Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched 
+Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore 
+joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore 
+out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, 
+doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I 
+told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come. 
+
+“Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I 
+went back to my father’s body. Watched the map. 
+When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father’s 
+
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+body. He became a bone ... I buried it, while wearing 
+the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front 
+of Hagrid’s cabin.” 
+
+There was complete silence now, except for Winky’s 
+continued sobs. Then Dumbledore said, “And tonight 
+
+
+
+“I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze 
+before dinner,” whispered Barty Crouch. “Turned it 
+into a Portkey. My master’s plan worked. He is 
+returned to power and I will be honored by him 
+beyond the dreams of wizards.” 
+
+The insane smile lit his features once more, and his 
+head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and 
+sobbed at his side. 
+
+
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+THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 
+
+Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty 
+Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then 
+he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, 
+ropes that twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, 
+binding him tightly. He turned to Professor 
+McGonagall. 
+
+“Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I 
+take Harry upstairs?” 
+
+“Of course,” said Professor McGonagall. She looked 
+slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched 
+someone being sick. However, when she drew out her 
+wand and pointed it at Barty Crouch, her hand was 
+quite steady. 
+
+“Severus” — Dumbledore turned to Snape — “please 
+tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to 
+get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go 
+down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and 
+bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want 
+
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+to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the 
+hospital wing in half an hour’s time if he needs me.” 
+
+Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room. 
+
+“Harry?” Dumbledore said gently. 
+
+Harry got up and swayed again; the pain in his leg, 
+which he had not noticed all the time he had been 
+listening to Crouch, now returned in full measure. He 
+also realized that he was shaking. Dumbledore 
+gripped his arm and helped him out into the dark 
+corridor. 
+
+“I want you to come up to my office first, Harry,” he 
+said quietly as they headed up the passageway. 
+
+“Sirius is waiting for us there.” 
+
+Harry nodded. A kind of numbness and a sense of 
+complete unreality were upon him, but he did not 
+care; he was even glad of it. He didn’t want to have to 
+think about anything that had happened since he had 
+first touched the Triwizard Cup. He didn’t want to 
+have to examine the memories, fresh and sharp as 
+photographs, which kept flashing across his mind. 
+Mad-Eye Moody, inside the trunk. Wormtail, slumped 
+on the ground, cradling his stump of an arm. 
+Voldemort, rising from the steaming cauldron. Cedric 
+. . . dead . . . Cedric, asking to be returned to his 
+parents. ... 
+
+“Professor,” Harry mumbled, “where are Mr. and Mrs. 
+Diggory?” 
+
+“They are with Professor Sprout,” said Dumbledore. 
+His voice, which had been so calm throughout the 
+interrogation of Barty Crouch, shook very slightly for 
+the first time. “She was Head of Cedric’s house, and 
+knew him best.” 
+
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+They had reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore 
+gave the password, it sprang aside, and he and Harry 
+went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. 
+Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius was standing 
+there. His face was white and gaunt as it had been 
+when he had escaped Azkaban. In one swift moment, 
+he had crossed the room. 
+
+“Harry, are you all right? I knew it — I knew 
+something like this — what happened?” 
+
+His hands shook as he helped Harry into a chair in 
+front of the desk. 
+
+“What happened?” he asked more urgently. 
+
+Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything Barty 
+Crouch had said. Harry was only half listening. So 
+tired every bone in his body was aching, he wanted 
+nothing more than to sit here, undisturbed, for hours 
+and hours, until he fell asleep and didn’t have to 
+think or feel anymore. 
+
+There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix 
+had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed 
+on Harry’s knee. 
+
+“ ’Lo, Fawkes,” said Harry quietly. He stroked the 
+phoenix’s beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes 
+blinked peacefully up at him. There was something 
+comforting about his warm weight. 
+
+Dumbledore stopped talking. He sat down opposite 
+Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who 
+avoided his eyes. Dumbledore was going to question 
+him. He was going to make Harry relive everything. 
+
+“I need to know what happened after you touched the 
+Portkey in the maze, Harry,” said Dumbledore. 
+
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+“We can leave that till morning, can’t we, 
+Dumbledore?” said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand 
+on Harry’s shoulder. “Let him have a sleep. Let him 
+rest.” 
+
+Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but 
+Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius’s words. He 
+leaned forward toward Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry 
+raised his head and looked into those blue eyes. 
+
+“If I thought I could help you,” Dumbledore said 
+gently, “by putting you into an enchanted sleep and 
+allowing you to postpone the moment when you 
+would have to think about what has happened 
+tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the 
+pain for a while will make it worse when you finally 
+feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I 
+could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate 
+your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what 
+happened.” 
+
+The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It 
+shivered in the air, and Harry felt as though a drop of 
+hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his 
+stomach, warming him, and strengthening him. 
+
+He took a deep breath and began to tell them. As he 
+spoke, visions of everything that had passed that 
+night seemed to rise before his eyes; he saw the 
+sparkling surface of the potion that had revived 
+Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating 
+between the graves around them; he saw Cedric’s 
+body, lying on the ground beside the cup. 
+
+Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to 
+say something, his hand still tight on Harry’s 
+shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop 
+him, and Harry was glad of this, because it was easier 
+to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; 
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+
+he felt almost as though something poisonous were 
+being extracted from him. It was costing him every bit 
+of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed 
+that once he had finished, he would feel better. 
+
+When Harry told of Wormtail piercing his arm with 
+the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement 
+exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that 
+Harry started. Dumbledore walked around the desk 
+and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry showed 
+them both the place where his robes were torn and 
+the cut beneath them. 
+
+“He said my blood would make him stronger than if 
+he’d used someone else’s,” Harry told Dumbledore. 
+
+“He said the protection my — my mother left in me — 
+he’d have it too. And he was right — he could touch 
+me without hurting himself, he touched my face.” 
+
+For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam 
+of something like triumph in Dumbledore ’s eyes. But 
+next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for 
+when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind 
+the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had 
+ever seen him. 
+
+“Very well,” he said, sitting down again. “Voldemort 
+has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, 
+please.” 
+
+Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had 
+emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he 
+could remember of Voldemort’s speech to the Death 
+Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, 
+returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel. 
+
+But when he reached the part where the golden beam 
+of light had connected his and Voldemort’s wands, he 
+found his throat obstructed. He tried to keep talking, 
+
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+but the memories of what had come out of 
+Voldemort’s wand were flooding into his mind. He 
+could see Cedric emerging, see the old man, Bertha 
+Jorkins ... his father ... his mother ... 
+
+He was glad when Sirius broke the silence. 
+
+“The wands connected?” he said, looking from Harry 
+to Dumbledore. “Why?” 
+
+Harry looked up at Dumbledore again, on whose face 
+there was an arrested look. 
+
+“Priori Incantatem,” he muttered. 
+
+His eyes gazed into Harry’s and it was almost as 
+though an invisible beam of understanding shot 
+between them. 
+
+“The Reverse Spell effect?” said Sirius sharply. 
+
+“Exactly,” said Dumbledore. “Harry’s wand and 
+Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains 
+a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This 
+phoenix, in fact,” he added, and he pointed at the 
+scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry’s 
+knee. 
+
+“My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?” Harry said, 
+amazed. 
+
+“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell 
+me you had bought the second wand, the moment 
+you left his shop four years ago.” 
+
+“So what happens when a wand meets its brother?” 
+said Sirius. 
+
+
+
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+“They will not work properly against each other,” said 
+Dumbledore. “If, however, the owners of the wands 
+force the wands to do battle ... a very rare effect will 
+take place. One of the wands will force the other to 
+regurgitate spells it has performed — in reverse. The 
+most recent first ... and then those which preceded it. 
+
+
+
+He looked interrogatively at Harry, and Harry nodded. 
+
+“Which means,” said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes 
+upon Harry’s face, “that some form of Cedric must 
+have reappeared.” 
+
+Harry nodded again. 
+
+“Diggory came back to life?” said Sirius sharply. 
+
+“No spell can reawaken the dead,” said Dumbledore 
+heavily. “All that would have happened is a kind of 
+reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would 
+have emerged from the wand . . . am I correct, Harry?” 
+
+“He spoke to me,” Harry said. He was suddenly 
+shaking again. “The ... the ghost Cedric, or whatever 
+he was, spoke.” 
+
+“An echo,” said Dumbledore, “which retained Cedric’s 
+appearance and character. I am guessing other such 
+forms appeared ... less recent victims of Voldemort’s 
+wand. ...” 
+
+“An old man,” Harry said, his throat still constricted. 
+“Bertha Jorkins. And ...” 
+
+“Your parents?” said Dumbledore quietly. 
+
+“Yes,” said Harry. 
+
+
+
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+Sirius’s grip on Harry’s shoulder was now so tight it 
+was painful. 
+
+“The last murders the wand performed,” said 
+Dumbledore, nodding. “In reverse order. More would 
+have appeared, of course, had you maintained the 
+connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these 
+shadows . . . what did they do?” 
+
+Harry described how the figures that had emerged 
+from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden 
+web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how 
+the shadow of Harry’s father had told him what to do, 
+how Cedric’s had made its final request. 
+
+At this point, Harry found he could not continue. He 
+looked around at Sirius and saw that he had his face 
+in his hands. 
+
+Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left 
+his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It 
+was resting its beautiful head against Harry’s injured 
+leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes 
+onto the wound left by the spider. The pain vanished. 
+The skin mended. His leg was repaired. 
+
+“I will say it again,” said Dumbledore as the phoenix 
+rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch 
+beside the door. “You have shown bravery beyond 
+anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. 
+You have shown bravery equal to those who died 
+fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You 
+have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found 
+yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all 
+that we have a right to expect. You will come with me 
+to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to 
+the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some 
+peace ... Sirius, would you like to stay with him?” 
+
+
+
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+Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back 
+into the great black dog and walked with Harry and 
+Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them 
+down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing. 
+
+When Dumbledore pushed open the door, Harry saw 
+Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped 
+around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They 
+appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was 
+and what had happened to him. All of them whipped 
+around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog 
+entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled 
+scream. 
+
+“Harry! Oh Harry!” 
+
+She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore 
+moved between them. 
+
+“Molly,��� he said, holding up a hand, “please listen to 
+me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible 
+ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. 
+What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If 
+he would like you all to stay with him,” he added, 
+looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, “you 
+may do so. But I do not want you questioning him 
+until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this 
+evening.” 
+
+Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She 
+rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they 
+were being noisy, and hissed, “Did you hear? He 
+needs quiet!” 
+
+“Headmaster,” said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the 
+great black dog that was Sirius, “may I ask what — ?” 
+
+“This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while,” 
+said Dumbledore simply. “I assure you, he is 
+
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+extremely well trained. Harry — I will wait while you 
+get into bed.” 
+
+Harry felt an inexpressible sense of gratitude to 
+Dumbledore for asking the others not to question 
+him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want them there; 
+but the thought of explaining it all over again, the 
+idea of reliving it one more time, was more than he 
+could stand. 
+
+“I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with 
+Fudge, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I would like you to 
+remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the 
+school.” He left. 
+
+As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he 
+caught sight of the real Moody lying motionless in a 
+bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and 
+magical eye were lying on the bedside table. 
+
+“Is he okay?” Harry asked. 
+
+“He’ll be fine,” said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry 
+some pajamas and pulling screens around him. He 
+took off his robes, pulled on the pajamas, and got into 
+bed. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and the black 
+dog came around the screen and settled themselves 
+in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione 
+were looking at him almost cautiously, as though 
+scared of him. 
+
+“I’m all right,” he told them. “Just tired.” 
+
+Mrs. Weasley’s eyes filled with tears as she smoothed 
+his bedcovers unnecessarily. 
+
+Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, 
+returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion 
+and a goblet. 
+
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+
+“You’ll need to drink all of this, Harry,” she said. “It’s 
+a potion for dreamless sleep.” 
+
+Harry took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. He 
+felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything 
+around him became hazy; the lamps around the 
+hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a 
+friendly way through the screen around his bed; his 
+body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the 
+warmth of the feather matress. Before he could finish 
+the potion, before he could say another word, his 
+exhaustion had carried him off to sleep. 
+
+Harry woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that he 
+didn’t open his eyes, wanting to drop off again. The 
+room was still dimly lit; he was sure it was still 
+nighttime and had a feeling that he couldn’t have 
+been asleep very long. 
+
+Then he heard whispering around him. 
+
+“They’ll wake him if they don’t shut up!” 
+
+“What are they shouting about? Nothing else can 
+have happened, can it?” 
+
+Harry opened his eyes blearily Someone had removed 
+his glasses. He could see the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. 
+Weasley and Bill close by. Mrs. Weasley was on her 
+feet. 
+
+“That’s Fudge’s voice,” she whispered. “And that’s 
+Minerva McGonagall’s, isn’t it? But what are they 
+arguing about?” 
+
+Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and 
+running toward the hospital wing. 
+
+
+
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+
+“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva — ” Cornelius 
+Fudge was saying loudly. 
+
+“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” 
+yelled Professor McGonagall. “When Dumbledore 
+finds out — ” 
+
+Harry heard the hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed 
+by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were 
+staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, 
+Harry sat up and put his glasses back on. 
+
+Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors 
+McGonagall and Snape were at his heels. 
+
+“Where’s Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. 
+Weasley. 
+
+“He’s not here,” said Mrs. Weasley angrily. “This is a 
+hospital wing, Minister, don’t you think you’d do 
+better to — ” 
+
+But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping 
+up the ward. 
+
+“What has happened?” said Dumbledore sharply, 
+looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why 
+are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m 
+surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over 
+Barty Crouch — ” 
+
+“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, 
+Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to 
+that!” 
+
+Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose 
+control like this. There were angry blotches of color in 
+her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she 
+was trembling with fury. 
+
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+
+“When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the 
+Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” said 
+Snape, in a low voice, “he seemed to feel his personal 
+safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a 
+dementor to accompany him into the castle. He 
+brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch — ” 
+
+“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” 
+Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would 
+never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, 
+but — ” 
+
+“My dear woman!” roared Fudge, who likewise looked 
+angrier than Harry had ever seen him, “as Minister of 
+Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring 
+protection with me when interviewing a possibly 
+dangerous — ” 
+
+But Professor McGonagall’s voice drowned Fudge’s. 
+
+“The moment that — that thing entered the room,” 
+she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, 
+“it swooped down on Crouch and — and — ” 
+
+Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor 
+McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what 
+had happened. He did not need her to finish her 
+sentence. He knew what the dementor must have 
+done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty 
+Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his 
+mouth. He was worse than dead. 
+
+“By all accounts, he is no loss!” blustered Fudge. “It 
+seems he has been responsible for several deaths!” 
+
+“But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius,” said 
+Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as 
+though seeing him plainly for the first time. “He 
+
+
+
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+cannot give evidence about why he killed those 
+people.” 
+
+
+
+“Why he killed them? Well, that’s no mystery, is it?” 
+blustered Fudge. “He was a raving lunatic! From what 
+Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have 
+thought he was doing it all on You-Know- Who’s 
+instructions!” 
+
+“Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, 
+Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. “Those people’s deaths 
+were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort 
+to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort 
+has been restored to his body.” 
+
+Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a 
+heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he 
+stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn’t quite 
+believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, 
+still goggling at Dumbledore. 
+
+“You-Know- Who ... returned? Preposterous. Come 
+now, Dumbledore ...” 
+
+“As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you,” 
+said Dumbledore, “we heard Barry Crouch confess. 
+Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how 
+he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort 
+— learning of his continued existence from Bertha 
+Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used 
+him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. 
+Crouch has helped Voldemort to return.” 
+
+“See here, Dumbledore,” said Fudge, and Harry was 
+astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, 
+“you — you can’t seriously believe that. You-Know- 
+Who — back? Come now, come now . . . certainly, 
+Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon 
+
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+You-Know- Who’s orders — but to take the word of a 
+lunatic like that, Dumbledore ...” 
+
+“When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he 
+was transported straight to Voldemort,” said 
+Dumbledore steadily. “He witnessed Lord Voldemort’s 
+rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to 
+my office.” 
+
+Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he 
+was awake, but shook his head and said, “I am afraid 
+I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight.” 
+
+Fudge’s curious smile lingered. He too glanced at 
+Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, 
+“You are — er — prepared to take Harry’s word on 
+this, are you, Dumbledore?” 
+
+There was a moment’s silence, which was broken by 
+Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was 
+baring his teeth at Fudge. 
+
+“Certainly, I believe Harry,” said Dumbledore. His 
+eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch’s confession, 
+and I heard Harry’s account of what happened after 
+he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make 
+sense, they explain everything that has happened 
+since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.” 
+
+Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once 
+again, he glanced at Harry before answering. 
+
+“You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has 
+returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a 
+boy who ... well ...” 
+
+Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly 
+understood. 
+
+
+
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+
+“You’ve been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge,” he 
+said quietly. 
+
+Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped. 
+None of them had realized that Harry was awake. 
+
+Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate 
+look came over his face. 
+
+“And if I have?” he said, looking at Dumbledore. “If I 
+have discovered that you’ve been keeping certain facts 
+about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And 
+having funny turns all over the place — ” 
+
+“I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry 
+has been experiencing in his scar?” said Dumbledore 
+coolly. 
+
+“You admit that he has been having these pains, 
+then?” said Fudge quickly. “Headaches? Nightmares? 
+Possibly — hallucinations?” 
+
+“Listen to me, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, taking a 
+step toward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to 
+radiate that indefinable sense of power that Harry 
+had felt after Dumbledore had Stunned young 
+Crouch. “Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon 
+his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it 
+hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling 
+particularly murderous.” 
+
+Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, 
+but he looked no less stubborn. 
+
+“You’ll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I’ve never heard 
+of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before. ...” 
+
+“Look, I saw Voldemort come back!” Harry shouted. 
+
+He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley 
+
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+forced him back. “I saw the Death Eaters! I can give 
+you their names! Lucius Malfoy — ” 
+
+Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry 
+looked at him, Snape’s eyes flew back to Fudge. 
+
+“Malfoy was cleared!” said Fudge, visibly affronted. “A 
+very old family — donations to excellent causes — ” 
+
+“Macnair!” Harry continued. 
+
+“Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!” 
+
+“Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle — ” 
+
+“You are merely repeating the names of those who 
+were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years 
+ago!” said Fudge angrily. “You could have found those 
+names in old reports of the trials! For heaven’s sake, 
+Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot 
+story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting 
+taller, and you’re still swallowing them — the boy can 
+talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he’s 
+trustworthy?” 
+
+“You fool!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Cedric 
+Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the 
+random work of a lunatic!” 
+
+“I see no evidence to the contrary!” shouted Fudge, 
+now matching her anger, his face purpling. “It seems 
+to me that you are all determined to start a panic that 
+will destabilize everything we have worked for these 
+last thirteen years!” 
+
+Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had 
+always thought of Fudge as a kindly figure, a little 
+blustering, a little pompous, but essentially good- 
+natured. But now a short, angry wizard stood before 
+
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+him, refusing, point-blank, to accept the prospect of 
+disruption in his comfortable and ordered world — to 
+believe that Voldemort could have risen. 
+
+“Voldemort has returned,” Dumbledore repeated. “If 
+you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take 
+the necessary measures, we may still be able to save 
+the situation. The first and most essential step is to 
+remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors — ” 
+
+“Preposterous!” shouted Fudge again. “Remove the 
+dementors? I’d be kicked out of office for suggesting 
+it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night 
+because we know the dementors are standing guard 
+at Azkaban!” 
+
+“The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, 
+Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord 
+Voldemort ’s most dangerous supporters in the care of 
+creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!” 
+said Dumbledore. “They will not remain loyal to you, 
+Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope 
+for their powers and their pleasures than you can! 
+With the dementors behind him, and his old 
+supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed 
+to stop him regaining the sort of power he had 
+thirteen years ago!” 
+
+Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though 
+no words could express his outrage. 
+
+“The second step you must take — and at once,” 
+Dumbledore pressed on, “is to send envoys to the 
+giants.” 
+
+“Envoys to the giants?” Fudge shrieked, finding his 
+tongue again. “What madness is this?” 
+
+
+
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+“Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is 
+too late,” said Dumbledore, “or Voldemort will 
+persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among 
+wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!” 
+
+“You — you cannot be serious!” Fudge gasped, 
+shaking his head and retreating further from 
+Dumbledore. “If the magical community got wind that 
+I had approached the giants — people hate them, 
+Dumbledore — end of my career — ” 
+
+“You are blinded,” said Dumbledore, his voice rising 
+now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes 
+blazing once more, “by the love of the office you hold, 
+Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you 
+always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! 
+
+You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone 
+is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has 
+just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure- 
+blood family as old as any — and see what that man 
+chose to make of his life! I tell you now — take the 
+steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, 
+in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest 
+Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — 
+and history will remember you as the man who 
+stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance 
+to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!” 
+
+“Insane,” whispered Fudge, still backing away. “Mad 
+
+
+
+And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was 
+standing frozen at the foot of Harry’s bed, her hands 
+over her mouth. Mrs. Weasley was still standing over 
+Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from 
+rising. Bill, Ron, and Hermione were staring at Fudge. 
+
+“If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you 
+as far as this, Cornelius,” said Dumbledore, “we have 
+
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+reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you 
+see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit.” 
+
+Dumbledore ’s voice carried no hint of a threat; it 
+sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as 
+though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a 
+wand. 
+
+“Now, see here, Dumbledore,” he said, waving a 
+threatening finger. “I’ve given you free rein, always. 
+
+I’ve had a lot of respect for you. I might not have 
+agreed with some of your decisions, but I’ve kept 
+quiet. There aren’t many who’d have let you hire 
+werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach 
+your students without reference to the Ministry. But if 
+you’re going to work against me — ” 
+
+“The only one against whom I intend to work,” said 
+Dumbledore, “is Lord Voldemort. If you are against 
+him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.” 
+
+It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He 
+rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a 
+moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. 
+
+Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, “He 
+can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be ...” 
+
+Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up 
+the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out 
+his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. 
+
+“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. 
+
+It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it 
+burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death 
+Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. 
+It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his 
+means of summoning us to him. When he touched 
+the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, 
+and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has 
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+
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+
+been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do 
+you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the 
+Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff 
+fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too 
+many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a 
+welcome back into the fold.” 
+
+Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking 
+his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word 
+Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the 
+ugly mark on Snape ’s arm, then looked up at 
+Dumbledore and whispered, “I don’t know what you 
+and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have 
+heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in 
+touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the 
+running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.” 
+
+He had almost reached the door when he paused. He 
+turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and 
+stopped at Harry’s bed. 
+
+“Your winnings,” he said shortly, taking a large bag of 
+gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry’s 
+bedside table. “One thousand Galleons. There should 
+have been a presentation ceremony, but under the 
+circumstances ...” 
+
+He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked 
+out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The 
+moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to 
+look at the group around Harry’s bed. 
+
+“There is work to be done,” he said. “Molly ... am I 
+right in thinking that I can count on you and 
+Arthur?” 
+
+“Of course you can,” said Mrs. Weasley. She was 
+white to the lips, but she looked resolute. “We know 
+what Fudge is. It’s Arthur’s fondness for Muggles that 
+
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+has held him back at the Ministry all these years. 
+Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.” 
+
+“Then I need to send a message to Arthur,” said 
+Dumbledore. “All those that we can persuade of the 
+truth must be notified immediately, and he is well 
+placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as 
+shortsighted as Cornelius.” 
+
+“Ill go to Dad,” said Bill, standing up. “Ill go now.” 
+
+“Excellent,” said Dumbledore. “Tell him what has 
+happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him 
+shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge 
+thinks I am interfering at the Ministry — ” 
+
+“Leave it to me,” said Bill. 
+
+He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder, kissed his 
+mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode 
+quickly from the room. 
+
+“Minerva,” said Dumbledore, turning to Professor 
+McGonagall, “I want to see Hagrid in my office as 
+soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — 
+Madame Maxime.” 
+
+Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word. 
+
+“Poppy,” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, “would 
+you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody’s 
+office, where I think you will find a house-elf called 
+Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for 
+her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby 
+will look after her for us.” 
+
+“Very — very well,” said Madam Pomfrey, looking 
+startled, and she too left. 
+
+
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+
+Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and 
+that Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps had died away, 
+before he spoke again. 
+
+“And now,” he said, “it is time for two of our number 
+to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius ... if 
+you could resume your usual form.” 
+
+The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, 
+in an instant, turned back into a man. 
+
+Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed. 
+
+“Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him. 
+
+“Mum, shut up!” Ron yelled. “It’s okay!” 
+
+Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the 
+look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror. 
+
+“Him!” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face 
+showed equal dislike. “What is he doing here?” 
+
+“He is here at my invitation,” said Dumbledore, 
+looking between them, “as are you, Severus. I trust 
+you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old 
+differences and trust each other.” 
+
+Harry thought Dumbledore was asking for a near 
+miracle. Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other 
+with the utmost loathing. 
+
+“I will settle, in the short term,” said Dumbledore, 
+with a bite of impatience in his voice, “for a lack of 
+open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the 
+same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of 
+us who know the truth do not stand united, there is 
+no hope for any of us.” 
+
+
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+Very slowly — but still glaring at each other as 
+though each wished the other nothing but ill — Sirius 
+and Snape moved toward each other and shook 
+hands. They let go extremely quickly. 
+
+“That will do to be going on with,” said Dumbledore, 
+stepping between them once more. “Now I have work 
+for each of you. Fudge’s attitude, though not 
+unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to 
+set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella 
+Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Lie low at 
+Lupins for a while; I will contact you there.” 
+
+“But — ” said Harry. 
+
+He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to 
+say goodbye again so quickly. 
+
+“You’ll see me very soon, Harry,” said Sirius, turning 
+to him. “I promise you. But I must do what I can, you 
+understand, don’t you?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah ... of course I do.” 
+
+Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to 
+Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, 
+and ran the length of the room to the door, whose 
+handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone. 
+
+“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you 
+know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready ... if 
+you are prepared ...” 
+
+“I am,” said Snape. 
+
+He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, 
+black eyes glittered strangely. 
+
+
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+“Then good luck,” said Dumbledore, and he watched, 
+with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape 
+swept wordlessly after Sirius. 
+
+It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke 
+again. 
+
+“I must go downstairs,” he said finally. “I must see the 
+Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will 
+see all of you later.” 
+
+Harry slumped back against his pillows as 
+Dumbledore disappeared. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. 
+Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke 
+for a very long time. 
+
+“You’ve got to take the rest of your potion, Harry,” 
+
+Mrs. Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack 
+of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the 
+bottle and the goblet. “You have a good long sleep. Try 
+and think about something else for a while . . . think 
+about what you’re going to buy with your winnings!” 
+
+“I don’t want that gold,” said Harry in an 
+expressionless voice. “You have it. Anyone can have 
+it. I shouldn’t have won it. It should’ve been Cedric’s.” 
+
+The thing against which he had been fighting on and 
+off ever since he had come out of the maze was 
+threatening to overpower him. He could feel a 
+burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his 
+eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling. 
+
+“It wasn’t your fault, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley whispered. 
+
+“I told him to take the cup with me,” said Harry. 
+
+Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He 
+wished Ron would look away. 
+
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+Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside 
+cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. 
+He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as 
+though by a mother. The full weight of everything he 
+had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as 
+Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mother’s face, his 
+father’s voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground 
+all started spinning in his head until he could hardly 
+bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the 
+howl of misery fighting to get out of him. 
+
+There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs. Weasley 
+and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the 
+window. She was holding something tight in her 
+hand. 
+
+“Sorry,” she whispered. 
+
+“Your potion, Harry,” said Mrs. Weasley quickly, 
+wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. 
+
+Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was 
+instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless 
+sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and 
+thought no more. 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+THE BEGINNING 
+
+When he looked back, even a month later, Harry 
+found he had only scattered memories of the next few 
+days. It was as though he had been through too much 
+to take in any more. The recollections he did have 
+were very painful. The worst, perhaps, was the 
+meeting with the Diggorys that took place the 
+following morning. 
+
+They did not blame him for what had happened; on 
+the contrary, both thanked him for returning Cedric’s 
+body to them. Mr. Diggory sobbed through most of 
+the interview. Mrs. Diggory ’s grief seemed to be 
+beyond tears. 
+
+“He suffered very little then,” she said, when Harry 
+had told her how Cedric had died. “And after all, 
+
+Amos ... he died just when he’d won the tournament. 
+He must have been happy.” 
+
+When they got to their feet, she looked down at Harry 
+and said, “You look after yourself, now.” 
+
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+
+Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table. 
+
+“You take this,” he muttered to her. “It should’ve been 
+Cedric’s, he got there first, you take it — ” 
+
+But she backed away from him. 
+
+“Oh no, it’s yours, dear, I couldn’t ... you keep it.” 
+
+Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following 
+evening. From what Hermione and Ron told him, 
+Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning 
+at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave 
+Harry alone, that nobody ask him questions or badger 
+him to tell the story of what had happened in the 
+maze. Most people, he noticed, were skirting him in 
+the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered 
+behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that 
+many of them had believed Rita Skeeter’s article 
+about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. 
+Perhaps they were formulating their own theories 
+about how Cedric had died. He found he didn’t care 
+very much. He liked it best when he was with Ron 
+and Hermione and they were talking about other 
+things, or else letting him sit in silence while they 
+played chess. He felt as though all three of them had 
+reached an understanding they didn’t need to put 
+into words; that each was waiting for some sign, some 
+word, of what was going on outside Hogwarts — and 
+that it was useless to speculate about what might be 
+coming until they knew anything for certain. The only 
+time they touched upon the subject was when Ron 
+told Harry about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had 
+with Dumbledore before going home. 
+
+“She went to ask him if you could come straight to us 
+this summer,” he said. “But he wants you to go back 
+to the Dursleys, at least at first.” 
+
+
+
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+“Why?” said Harry. 
+
+“She said Dumbledore’s got his reasons,” said Ron, 
+shaking his head darkly. “I suppose we’ve got to trust 
+him, haven’t we?” 
+
+The only person apart from Ron and Hermione that 
+Harry felt able to talk to was Hagrid. As there was no 
+longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, they 
+had those lessons free. They used the one on 
+Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his 
+cabin. It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded 
+out of the open door as they approached, barking and 
+wagging his tail madly. 
+
+“Who’s that?” called Hagrid, coming to the door. 
+
+“ Harry\” 
+
+He strode out to meet them, pulled Harry into a one- 
+armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said, “Good ter see 
+yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh.” 
+
+They saw two bucket-size cups and saucers on the 
+wooden table in front of the fireplace when they 
+entered Hagrid ’s cabin. 
+
+“Bin havin’ a cuppa with Olympe,” Hagrid said. “She’s 
+jus’ left.” 
+
+“Who?” said Ron curiously. 
+
+“Madame Maxime, o’ course!” said Hagrid. 
+
+“You two made up, have you?” said Ron. 
+
+“Dunno what yeh’re talkin’ about,” said Hagrid airily, 
+fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had 
+made tea and offered around a plate of doughy 
+
+
+
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+cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed 
+Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes. 
+
+“You all righ’?” he said gruffly. 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry. 
+
+“No, yeh’re not,” said Hagrid. “ ’Course yeh’re not. But 
+yeh will be.” 
+
+Harry said nothing. 
+
+“Knew he was goin’ ter come back,” said Hagrid, and 
+Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up at him, shocked. 
+“Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, 
+bidin’ his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, 
+an’ we’ll jus’ have ter get on with it. We’ll fight. Migh’ 
+be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That’s 
+Dumbledore’s plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 
+’S long as we’ve got him, I’m not too worried.” 
+
+Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving 
+expressions on their faces. 
+
+“No good sittin’ worryin’ abou’ it,” he said. “What’s 
+cornin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does. 
+Dumbledore told me wha’ you did, Harry.” 
+
+Hagrid’s chest swelled as he looked at Harry. 
+
+“Yeh did as much as yer father would’ve done, an’ I 
+can’ give yeh no higher praise than that.” 
+
+Harry smiled back at him. It was the first time he’d 
+smiled in days. “What’s Dumbledore asked you to do, 
+Hagrid?” he asked. “He sent Professor McGonagall to 
+ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him — that 
+night.” 
+
+
+
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+
+“Got a little job fer me over the summer,” said Hagrid. 
+“Secret, though. I’m not s’pposed ter talk abou’ it, no, 
+not even ter you lot. Olympe — Madame Maxime ter 
+you — might be cornin’ with me. I think she will. 
+Think I got her persuaded.” 
+
+“Is it to do with Voldemort?” 
+
+Hagrid flinched at the sound of the name. 
+
+“Migh’ be,” he said evasively. “Now ... who’d like ter 
+come an’ visit the las’ skrewt with me? I was jokin’ — 
+jokin’!” he added hastily, seeing the looks on their 
+faces. 
+
+
+
+k k k 
+
+
+
+It was with a heavy heart that Harry packed his trunk 
+up in the dormitory on the night before his return to 
+Privet Drive. He was dreading the Leaving Feast, 
+which was usually a cause for celebration, when the 
+winner of the Inter-House Championship would be 
+announced. He had avoided being in the Great Hall 
+when it was full ever since he had left the hospital 
+wing, preferring to eat when it was nearly empty to 
+avoid the stares of his fellow students. 
+
+When he, Ron, and Hermione entered the Hall, they 
+saw at once that the usual decorations were missing. 
+The Great Hall was normally decorated with the 
+winning House’s colors for the Leaving Feast. Tonight, 
+however, there were black drapes on the wall behind 
+the teachers’ table. Harry knew instantly that they 
+were there as a mark of respect to Cedric. 
+
+The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, 
+his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He 
+was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone 
+
+
+
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+spoke to him. Harry couldn’t blame him; Moody’s fear 
+of attack was bound to have been increased by his 
+ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor 
+Karkaroff’s chair was empty. Harry wondered, as he 
+sat down with the other Gryffindors, where Karkaroff 
+was now, and whether Voldemort had caught up with 
+him. 
+
+Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next 
+to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further 
+along the table, sitting next to Professor McGonagall, 
+was Snape. His eyes lingered on Harry for a moment 
+as Harry looked at him. His expression was difficult to 
+read. He looked as sour and unpleasant as ever. 
+
+Harry continued to watch him, long after Snape had 
+looked away. 
+
+What was it that Snape had done on Dumbledore’s 
+orders, the night that Voldemort had returned? And 
+why ... why ... was Dumbledore so convinced that 
+Snape was truly on their side? He had been their spy, 
+Dumbledore had said so in the Pensieve. Snape had 
+turned spy against Voldemort, “at great personal 
+risk.” Was that the job he had taken up again? Had 
+he made contact with the Death Eaters, perhaps? 
+Pretended that he had never really gone over to 
+Dumbledore, that he had been, like Voldemort 
+himself, biding his time? 
+
+Harry’s musings were ended by Professor 
+Dumbledore, who stood up at the staff table. The 
+Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy 
+than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very 
+quiet. 
+
+“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them 
+all, “of another year.” 
+
+
+
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+
+He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff 
+table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before 
+he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the 
+saddest and palest faces in the Hall. 
+
+“There is much that I would like to say to you all 
+tonight,” said Dumbledore, “but I must first 
+acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who 
+should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the 
+Hufflepuffs, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like 
+you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to 
+Cedric Diggory.” 
+
+They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as 
+everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, 
+and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, “Cedric 
+Diggory.” 
+
+Harry caught a glimpse of Cho through the crowd. 
+There were tears pouring silently down her face. He 
+looked down at the table as they all sat down again. 
+
+“Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the 
+qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house,” 
+Dumbledore continued. “He was a good and loyal 
+friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death 
+has affected you all, whether you knew him well or 
+not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to 
+know exactly how it came about.” 
+
+Harry raised his head and stared at Dumbledore. 
+
+“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.” 
+
+A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were 
+staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He 
+looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter 
+themselves into silence. 
+
+
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+
+“The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore continued, “does 
+not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of 
+your parents will be horrified that I have done so — 
+either because they will not believe that Lord 
+Voldemort has returned, or because they think I 
+should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my 
+belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable 
+to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric 
+died as the result of an accident, or some sort of 
+blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.” 
+
+Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was 
+turned toward Dumbledore now ... or almost every 
+face. Over at the Slytherin table, Harry saw Draco 
+Malfoy muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle. 
+Harry felt a hot, sick swoop of anger in his stomach. 
+He forced himself to look back at Dumbledore. 
+
+“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in 
+connection with Cedric’s death,” Dumbledore went 
+on. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.” 
+
+A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads 
+turned in Harry’s direction before flicking back to face 
+Dumbledore. 
+
+“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” 
+said Dumbledore. “He risked his own life to return 
+Cedric’s body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every 
+respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever 
+shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor 
+him.” 
+
+Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his 
+goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall 
+followed suit. They murmured his name, as they had 
+murmured Cedric’s, and drank to him. But through a 
+gap in the standing figures, Harry saw that Malfoy, 
+Crabbe, Goyle, and many of the other Slytherins had 
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+
+
+
+remained defiantly in their seats, their goblets 
+untouched. Dumbledore, who after all possessed no 
+magical eye, did not see them. 
+
+When everyone had once again resumed their seats, 
+Dumbledore continued, “The Triwizard Tournament’s 
+aim was to further and promote magical 
+understanding. In the light of what has happened — 
+of Lord Voldemort’s return — such ties are more 
+important than ever before.” 
+
+Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and 
+Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons 
+students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the 
+Slytherin table. Krum, Harry saw, looked wary, 
+almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore 
+to say something harsh. 
+
+“Every guest in this Hall,” said Dumbledore, and his 
+eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be 
+welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to 
+come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of 
+Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we 
+are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord 
+Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is 
+very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally 
+strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of 
+habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are 
+identical and our hearts are open. 
+
+“It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am 
+mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult 
+times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered 
+directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your 
+families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a 
+student was taken from our midst. 
+
+“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should 
+come when you have to make a choice between what 
+
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+
+is right and what is easy, remember what happened 
+to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because 
+he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. 
+Remember Cedric Diggory.” 
+
+Harry’s trunk was packed; Hedwig was back in her 
+cage on top of it. He, Ron, and Hermione were waiting 
+in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the 
+fourth years for the carriages that would take them 
+back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful 
+summer’s day. He supposed that Privet Drive would 
+be hot and leafy, its flower beds a riot of color, when 
+he arrived there that evening. The thought gave him 
+no pleasure at all. 
+
+“ ’Arry!” 
+
+He looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up 
+the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across 
+the grounds, Harry could see Hagrid helping Madame 
+Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their 
+harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take 
+off. 
+
+“We will see each uzzer again, I ’ope,” said Fleur as 
+she reached him, holding out her hand. “I am ’oping 
+to get a job ’ere, to improve my Eenglish.” 
+
+“It’s very good already,” said Ron in a strangled sort of 
+voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled. 
+
+“Good-bye, ’Arry,” said Fleur, turning to go. “It ’az 
+been a pleasure meeting you!” 
+
+Harry’s spirits couldn’t help but lift slightly as he 
+watched Fleur hurry back across the lawns to 
+Madame Maxime, her silvery hair rippling in the 
+sunlight. 
+
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+“Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting 
+back,” said Ron. “D’you reckon they can steer that 
+ship without Karkaroff?” 
+
+“Karkaroff did not steer,” said a gruff voice. “He 
+stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork.” 
+
+Krum had come to say good-bye to Hermione. 
+
+“Could I have a vord?” he asked her. 
+
+“Oh ... yes ... all right,” said Hermione, looking 
+slightly flustered, and following Krum through the 
+crowd and out of sight. 
+
+“You’d better hurry up!” Ron called loudly after her. 
+“The carriages’ll be here in a minute!” 
+
+He let Harry keep a watch for the carriages, however, 
+and spent the next few minutes craning his neck over 
+the crowd to try and see what Krum and Hermione 
+might be up to. They returned quite soon. Ron stared 
+at Hermione, but her face was quite impassive. 
+
+“I liked Diggory,” said Krum abruptly to Harry. “He 
+vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos 
+from Durmstrang — with Karkaroff,” he added, 
+scowling. 
+
+“Have you got a new headmaster yet?” said Harry. 
+
+Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had 
+done, shook Harry’s hand, and then Ron’s. Ron 
+looked as though he was suffering some sort of 
+painful internal struggle. Krum had already started 
+walking away when Ron burst out, “Can I have your 
+autograph?” 
+
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+Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless 
+carriages that were now trundling toward them up the 
+drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed 
+a fragment of parchment for Ron. 
+
+
+
+The weather could not have been more different on 
+the journey back to King’s Cross than it had been on 
+their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There 
+wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione had managed to get a compartment to 
+themselves. Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under 
+Ron’s dress robes to stop him from hooting 
+continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her 
+wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat 
+like a large, furry ginger cushion. Harry, Ron, and 
+Hermione talked more fully and freely than they had 
+all week as the train sped them southward. Harry felt 
+as though Dumbledore’s speech at the Leaving Feast 
+had unblocked him, somehow. It was less painful to 
+discuss what had happened now. They broke off their 
+conversation about what action Dumbledore might be 
+taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the 
+lunch trolley arrived. 
+
+When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her 
+money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy 
+of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in 
+there. Harry looked at it, unsure whether he really 
+wanted to know what it might say, but Hermione, 
+seeing him looking at it, said calmly, “There’s nothing 
+in there. You can look for yourself, but there’s 
+nothing at all. I’ve been checking every day. Just a 
+small piece the day after the third task saying you 
+won the tournament. They didn’t even mention 
+Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge 
+is forcing them to keep quiet.” 
+
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+
+“He’ll never keep Rita quiet,” said Harry. “Not on a 
+story like this.” 
+
+“Oh, Rita hasn’t written anything at all since the third 
+task,” said Hermione in an oddly constrained voice. 
+“As a matter of fact,” she added, her voice now 
+trembling slightly, “Rita Skeeter isn’t going to be 
+writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she 
+wants me to spill the beans on her.” 
+
+“What are you talking about?” said Ron. 
+
+“I found out how she was listening in on private 
+conversations when she wasn’t supposed to be 
+coming onto the grounds,” said Hermione in a rush. 
+
+Harry had the impression that Hermione had been 
+dying to tell them this for days, but that she had 
+restrained herself in light of everything else that had 
+happened. 
+
+“How was she doing it?” said Harry at once. 
+
+“How did you find out?” said Ron, staring at her. 
+
+“Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea, 
+
+Harry,” she said. 
+
+“Did I?” said Harry, perplexed. “How?” 
+
+“Bugging,” said Hermione happily. 
+
+“But you said they didn’t work — ” 
+
+“Oh not electronic bugs,” said Hermione. “No, you see 
+... Rita Skeeter” — Hermione ’s voice trembled with 
+quiet triumph — “is an unregistered Animagus. She 
+can turn — ” 
+
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+
+Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her 
+bag. 
+
+“ — into a beetle.” 
+
+“You’re kidding,” said Ron. “You haven’t ... she’s not 
+
+
+
+“Oh yes she is,” said Hermione happily, brandishing 
+the jar at them. 
+
+Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat 
+beetle. 
+
+“That’s never — you’re kidding — ” Ron whispered, 
+lifting the jar to his eyes. 
+
+“No, I’m not,” said Hermione, beaming. “I caught her 
+on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very 
+closely, and you 11 notice the markings around her 
+antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she 
+wears.” 
+
+Harry looked and saw that she was quite right. He 
+also remembered something. 
+
+“There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard 
+Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!” 
+
+“Exactly,” said Hermione. “And Viktor pulled a beetle 
+out of my hair after we’d had our conversation by the 
+lake. And unless I’m very much mistaken, Rita was 
+perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the 
+day your scar hurt. She’s been buzzing around for 
+stories all year.” 
+
+“When we saw Malfoy under that tree ...” said Ron 
+slowly. 
+
+
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+
+“He was talking to her, in his hand,” said Hermione. 
+“He knew, of course. That’s how she’s been getting all 
+those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They 
+wouldn’t care that she was doing something illegal, as 
+long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us 
+and Hagrid.” 
+
+Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and 
+smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the 
+glass. 
+
+“I’ve told her I’ll let her out when we get back to 
+London,” said Hermione. “I’ve put an Unbreakable 
+Charm on the jar, you see, so she can’t transform. 
+
+And I’ve told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for a 
+whole year. See if she can’t break the habit of writing 
+horrible lies about people.” 
+
+Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back 
+inside her schoolbag. 
+
+The door of the compartment slid open. 
+
+“Very clever, Granger,” said Draco Malfoy. 
+
+Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All 
+three of them looked more pleased with themselves, 
+more arrogant and more menacing, than Harry had 
+ever seen them. 
+
+“So,” said Malfoy slowly, advancing slightly into the 
+compartment and looking slowly around at them, a 
+smirk quivering on his lips. “You caught some 
+pathetic reporter, and Potter’s Dumbledore’s favorite 
+boy again. Big deal.” 
+
+His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered. 
+
+
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+
+“Trying not to think about it, are we?” said Malfoy 
+softly, looking around at all three of them. “Trying to 
+pretend it hasn’t happened?” 
+
+“Get out,” said Harry. 
+
+He had not been this close to Malfoy since he had 
+watched him muttering to Crabbe and Goyle during 
+Dumbledore’s speech about Cedric. He could feel a 
+kind of ringing in his ears. His hand gripped his wand 
+under his robes. 
+
+“You’ve picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I 
+told you you ought to choose your company more 
+carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first 
+day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with 
+riffraff like this!” He jerked his head at Ron and 
+Hermione. “Too late now, Potter! They’ll be the first to 
+go, now the Dark Lord’s back! Mudbloods and 
+Muggle-lovers first! Well — second — Diggory was the 
+f— ” 
+
+It was as though someone had exploded a box of 
+fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the 
+blaze of the spells that had blasted from every 
+direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry 
+blinked and looked down at the floor. 
+
+Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious 
+in the doorway. He, Ron, and Hermione were on their 
+feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Nor 
+were they the only ones to have done so. 
+
+“Thought we’d see what those three were up to,” said 
+Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into 
+the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did 
+George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he 
+followed Fred inside. 
+
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+
+“Interesting effect,” said George, looking down at 
+Crabbe. “Who used the Furnunculus Curse?” 
+
+“Me,” said Harry. 
+
+“Odd,” said George lightly. “I used Jelly-Legs. Looks 
+as though those two shouldn’t be mixed. He seems to 
+have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, 
+let’s not leave them here, they don’t add much to the 
+decor.” 
+
+Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed 
+the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle — each of 
+whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of 
+jinxes with which they had been hit — out into the 
+corridor, then came back into the compartment and 
+rolled the door shut. 
+
+“Exploding Snap, anyone?” said Fred, pulling out a 
+pack of cards. 
+
+They were halfway through their fifth game when 
+Harry decided to ask them. 
+
+“You going to tell us, then?” he said to George. “Who 
+you were blackmailing?” 
+
+“Oh,” said George darkly. “ That 
+
+“It doesn’t matter,” said Fred, shaking his head 
+impatiently. “It wasn’t anything important. Not now, 
+anyway.” 
+
+“We’ve given up,” said George, shrugging. 
+
+But Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept on asking, and 
+finally, Fred said, “All right, all right, if you really 
+want to know ... it was Ludo Bagman.” 
+
+
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+“Bagman?” said Harry sharply. “Are you saying he 
+was involved in — ” 
+
+“Nah,” said George gloomily. “Nothing like that. 
+
+Stupid git. He wouldn’t have the brains.” 
+
+“Well, what, then?” said Ron. 
+
+Fred hesitated, then said, “You remember that bet we 
+had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how 
+Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry and Ron slowly. 
+
+“Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he’d caught 
+from the Irish mascots.” 
+
+“So?” 
+
+“So,” said Fred impatiently, “it vanished, didn’t it? By 
+next morning, it had gone!” 
+
+“But — it must’ve been an accident, mustn’t it?” said 
+Hermione. 
+
+George laughed very bitterly. 
+
+“Yeah, that’s what we thought, at first. We thought if 
+we just wrote to him, and told him he’d made a 
+mistake, he’d cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored 
+our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at 
+Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to 
+get away from us.” 
+
+“In the end, he turned pretty nasty,” said Fred. “Told 
+us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn’t giving 
+us anything.” 
+
+
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+
+“So we asked for our money back,” said George 
+glowering. 
+
+“He didn’t refuse!” gasped Hermione. 
+
+“Right in one,” said Fred. 
+
+“But that was all your savings!” said Ron. 
+
+“Tell me about it,” said George. “ ’Course, we found 
+out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan’s dad 
+had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as 
+well. Turns out he’s in big trouble with the goblins. 
+Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them 
+cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and 
+took all the gold he had, and it still wasn’t enough to 
+cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to 
+Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He’s lost everything 
+gambling. Hasn’t got two Galleons to rub together. 
+And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins 
+back?” 
+
+“How?” said Harry. 
+
+“He put a bet on you, mate,” said Fred. “Put a big bet 
+on you to win the tournament. Bet against the 
+goblins.” 
+
+“So that’s why he kept trying to help me win!” said 
+Harry. “Well — I did win, didn’t I? So he can pay you 
+your gold!” 
+
+“Nope,” said George, shaking his head. “The goblins 
+play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, 
+and Bagman was betting you’d win outright. So 
+Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after 
+the third task.” 
+
+
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+George sighed deeply and started dealing out the 
+cards again. 
+
+The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough; 
+Harry wished it could have gone on all summer, in 
+fact, and that he would never arrive at King’s Cross . . . 
+but as he had learned the hard way that year, time 
+will not slow down when something unpleasant lies 
+ahead, and all too soon, the Hogwarts Express was 
+pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The 
+usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the 
+students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione 
+struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, 
+carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put. 
+
+“Fred — George — wait a moment.” 
+
+The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and 
+drew out his Triwizard winnings. 
+
+“Take it,” he said, and he thrust the sack into 
+George’s hands. 
+
+“What?” said Fred, looking flabbergasted. 
+
+“Take it,” Harry repeated firmly. “I don’t want it.” 
+
+“You’re mental,” said George, trying to push it back at 
+Harry. 
+
+“No, I’m not,” said Harry. “You take it, and get 
+inventing. It’s for the joke shop.” 
+
+“He is mental,” Fred said in an almost awed voice. 
+
+“Listen,” said Harry firmly. “If you don’t take it, I’m 
+throwing it down the drain. I don’t want it and I don’t 
+need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all 
+
+
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+do with a few laughs. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to 
+need them more than usual before long.” 
+
+“Harry,” said George weakly, weighing the money bag 
+in his hands, “there’s got to be a thousand Galleons 
+in here.” 
+
+“Yeah,” said Harry, grinning. “Think how many 
+Canary Creams that is.” 
+
+The twins stared at him. 
+
+“Just don’t tell your mum where you got it ... 
+although she might not be so keen for you to join the 
+Ministry anymore, come to think of it. ...” 
+
+“Harry,” Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand. 
+
+“Look,” he said flatly, “take it, or I’ll hex you. I know 
+some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? 
+
+Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they’re 
+from you.” 
+
+He left the compartment before they could say 
+another word, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and 
+Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex 
+marks. 
+
+Uncle Vernon was waiting beyond the barrier. Mrs. 
+Weasley was close by him. She hugged Harry very 
+tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, “I 
+think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the 
+summer. Keep in touch, Harry.” 
+
+“See you, Harry,” said Ron, clapping him on the back. 
+
+“ ’Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something 
+she had never done before, and kissed him on the 
+cheek. 
+
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+
+“Harry — thanks,” George muttered, while Fred 
+nodded fervently at his side. 
+
+Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and 
+followed him silently from the station. There was no 
+point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the 
+back of the Dursleys’ car. 
+
+As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come... 
+and he would have to meet it when it did. 
+
+
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