TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 11 страница

? 164‘

ABOARD THE

HOGWARTS EXPRESS

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.

“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.

? 165‘

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“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 where- abouts 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. “Every-

one 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 the entrance saying danger, do not enter, unsafe. ”

“So Durmstrang’ll just look like a ruin 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 for- eign wizards from finding it, they’ll have made it Unplottable —” “Come again? ”

? 166‘

ABOARD THE

HOGWARTS EXPRESS

“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 pro- gressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought 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 re- lived the Cup match.

“Gran didn’t want to go, ” he said miserably. “Wouldn’t buy tick- ets. It sounded amazing though. ”

? 167‘

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“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. Evi- dently they had overheard the conversation through the compart- ment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.

“Don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy, ” said Harry coolly.

“Weasley. . . what is that? ” said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwid-

geon’s cage. A sleeve of Ron’s dress robes was dangling from it, sway- ing 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

? 168‘

ABOARD THE

HOGWARTS EXPRESS

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 you don’t even know? My

God, my father told me about it ages ago. . . heard it from Cor-

nelius Fudge. But then, Father’s always associated with the top peo- ple at the Ministry. . . . Maybe your father’s too junior to know about it, Weasley. . . yes. . . they probably don’t talk about impor- tant 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.

“ Ron! ” said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her

wand, muttered “ Reparo! ” and the glass shards flew back into a sin-

gle 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 peo-

ple 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 —”

? 169‘

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Him! Get to me!? As if! ” said Ron, picking up one of the re- maining 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 fi- nally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder over- head. 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.

? 170‘

C H A P T E R T W E L V E

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

hrough the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and

up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dan-

gerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the win- dow, 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 every- where, “if that keeps up the lake’s going to overflow. I’m soak — ARRGH! ”

? 171‘

CHAPTER TWELVE

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. Peo- ple 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 Gryf- findor 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.

“I shall call the headmaster! ” shouted Professor McGonagall. “I’m warning you, Peeves —”

? 172‘

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

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. ”

The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, but by an unlucky combination of cir- cumstances, Harry hadn’t been present at one since his own. He

? 173‘

CHAPTER TWELVE

was quite looking forward to it. Just then, a highly excited, breath- less voice called down the table.

“Hiya, Harry! ”

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was some- thing 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 Hermi- one, 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 fight- ing his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but 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

? 174‘

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

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 Sin- istra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra’s other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions mas- ter, Snape — Harry’s least favorite person at Hogwarts. Harry’s loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape’s hatred of him, a ha- tred 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 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. ”

? 175‘

CHAPTER TWELVE

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 every- one else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the 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,

? 176‘

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

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,

I’ll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!

? 177‘

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished. “That’s not the song it sang when it Sorted us, ” said Harry, clap- ping 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 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! ”

? 178‘

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

“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 mis- leading 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! ”

“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, fath- oms-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

? 179‘

CHAPTER TWELVE

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! ” “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.

? 180‘

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

“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 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

? 181‘

CHAPTER TWELVE

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 night to do a bit of cleaning. . . see to the fires and so on. . . . I mean, you’re not sup- posed 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? ”