TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 22 страница

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

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his progress; its head revolving on its long neck — if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy — 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 pro- tective 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 exaspera- tion. 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 dis- appeared 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 shook as she pointed at his shoulder. “You’ll

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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 in- jured; he was sitting up, at least. Madam Pomfrey examined Harry’s shoulder, talking furiously all the while. “Last year demen- tors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You’re very lucky. . . this is quite shallow. . . it’ll need clean- ing 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.

“Now, just sit quietly for a minute — sit! And then you can go

and get your score. ”

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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 be- fore he’d reached the mouth of the tent, two people had come dart- ing 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. ” “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

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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 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 tram- pling 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 enclo- sure. 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,

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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 cheer- ing 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. 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 scum-

bag, 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

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owl, I swore I’d tell her what happened — but that was unbeliev- able! 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 paste, which was pre- sumably 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.

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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. ”

And he set off back to the castle with Ron.

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arry, 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 en- tered 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 gob-

let, 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

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flying around and around Harry’s head, 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 dan- gerous, how could they be? ” Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. “You know what? I reckon you could win this tour- nament, Harry, I’m serious. ”

Harry knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his be- havior 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 tourna- ment, ” 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 plum- meted 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 dark- ness, 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 pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every

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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 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.

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“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? ”

“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? ”

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“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 for-

got — 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! ”

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

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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 repul- sive things Harry had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.

“We’ll 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 ap-

preciate 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 smol- dering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class — Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead — had fled into Hagrid’s cabin through the

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back door and barricaded themselves in; Harry, Ron, and Hermi- one, 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.

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.

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Rita acted as though she hadn’t heard what Hagrid had said. “What are these fascinating creatures called? ” she asked, beam- ing 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.

“Ah, you’re here, Harry! ” said Rita Skeeter as she looked around.

“So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your fa- vorite 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), Sea- mus (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. ”

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“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 in- terview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signal- ing 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! ”

“She’ll twist everything he says, ” Harry said under his breath. “Just as long as he didn’t import those skrewts illegally or any- thing, ” 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 cheer- ful, 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.

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“I would think, ” she said, in a mystical whisper that did not con-

ceal her obvious annoyance, “that some of us” — she stared very