TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 33 страница

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. ’”

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“No! ” said Hermione, looking shocked.

“Yeah, ” said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. “They’re jus’ nutters, Hermione. Don’ 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. ”

“Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night! ” said Harry impatiently. “We all did, remember? ”

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“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 re- ally 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 Hermi- one 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-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

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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 any- where 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? ”

Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and record- ing equipment. Ron was fascinated, but Hermione interrupted them.

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“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, com- puters, and radar, and all those things — they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there’s too much magic in the air. No, Rita’s us- ing 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 I Hate Rita

Skeeter badges? ” said Ron.

Hermione, however, did not ask Harry and Ron to help her pur- sue vengeance against Rita Skeeter, for which they were both grate- ful, 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 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.

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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 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.

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“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 niftier 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.

“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?

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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 Quid- ditch 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 get a head start into the maze. ” Bagman grinned at Harry and Cedric. “Then Mr. Krum will enter. . . then Miss Delacour. But you’ll 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.

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“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.

“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 some- thing much more serious than this, stared up at Krum in amaze- ment.

“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. ”

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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.

Krum looked slightly happier. He stared at Harry for a few sec- onds, then said, “You fly very vell. 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 for- est, instinctively grabbed Krum’s arm and pulled him around. “Vot is it? ”

Harry shook his head, staring at the place where he’d seen move- ment. He slipped his hand inside his robes, reaching for his wand. Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a mo- ment, 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

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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.

“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 to- ward 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 closer, though his eyes

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were staring over Harry’s head. “I need. . . see. . . Dumble- dore. . . . ”

“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 ex- tremely 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. . . ”

“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 at- tending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge. ”

Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed

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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 satisfac- tory, 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 Dumb- ledore, 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. . . ”

“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

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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! ”

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 in- stead. “It’s Mr. Crouch. . . he’s just turned up. . . he’s in the for- est. . . he’s asking —”

“What is this rubbish? ” said Snape, his black eyes glittering. “What are you talking about? ”

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“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, deny- ing 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 stand- ing there, wearing long green robes and a mildly curious expression. “Is there a problem? ” he said, looking between Harry and Snape. “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. . . . ”

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“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 Vik- tor 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 —”

“Where are they? ” said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

“Over here, ” said Harry, moving in front of Dumbledore, lead- ing the way through the trees. He couldn’t hear Crouch’s voice any- more, 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 defi- nitely somewhere around here. . . . ”

“ Lumos, ” Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up.

Its narrow beam traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illu- minating 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

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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. ”

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 Dumble- dore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and mut-

tered, “ Rennervate. ”

Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumb- ledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoul- der 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 Dumble- dore. “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.

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“Damn leg, ” he said furiously. “Would’ve been here quicker. . . what’s happened? Snape said something about Crouch —” “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 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

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wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differ-

ences — 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.