TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 23 страница

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 over- powered 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.

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. . . . ”

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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.

“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

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them down through six floors, and started down the marble stair- case into the entrance hall.

“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 dun- geon, 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 —”

“I’m 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! ”

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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 fire- place at the other end, when something small hurtled toward him

from the middle of the room, squealing, “Harry Potter, sir! Harry

Potter! ”

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 remem- bered him; the pencil-shaped nose, the batlike ears, the long fingers and feet — all except the clothes, which were very different.

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

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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. 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

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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.

“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 diffi- cult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed —”

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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 be- ing free! ”

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite in- crease 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 face- down 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

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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 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 glar- ing 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 —”

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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 insult- ing 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. 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

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small shoulders. “Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old mas-

ters 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 be-

gan 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.

“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 look- ing 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 get- ting 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. ”

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“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. “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 hap- pily 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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“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 en- trance 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 mar- ble 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 she’ll cheer up, ” said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. “Once the shock’s worn off, and she’s got used to Hog- warts, 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? ”

“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. ”

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“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. ”

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THE UNEXPECTED TASK

otter! 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 Transform-

ing 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

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their age, ” said Professor McGonagall, with an 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 most seriously displeased if a Gryffin- dor student embarrasses the school in any way. ”

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The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as every- one 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 part- ners 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.

“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 part- ner, Potter. ”

“But — I don’t —”

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“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 com- ing 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? ” “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.

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Ron seemed to know what was going on inside Harry’s head. “Listen, you’re not going to have any trouble. You’re a cham- pion. You’ve just beaten a Hungarian Horntail. I bet they’ll 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. ” 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 cham- pion. Then he wondered if this would bother him if Cho asked him.

On the whole, Harry had to admit that even with the embar- rassing prospect of opening the ball before him, life had definitely improved since he had got through the first task. He wasn’t attract- ing nearly as much unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which