HP GOF 8-12

“Well, move along, then!” said Professor McGonagall sharply to
the bedraggled crowd.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another
lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly’s,
clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused
sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and
muttered, “Quietus.”

“Your elf ’s scared of heights, and those wizards in
masks were levitating people!

He
scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull,
but he couldn’t see anyone.

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet
came zooming into the stadium.

Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up,
the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder
and erupted into screams of delight.

C H A P T E R T E N
􀂑 145 􀂑
MAYHEM AT THE
MINISTRY
r.

Heavy rain was still splattering
against the window as he got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt;
they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts
Express.

It did one circuit of the stadium,
then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal
posts.

Harry’s eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as
the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the
stands could see the inside.

A silver whistle was protruding
from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate
under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and
his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and
muscle that still attached it to his neck.

“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t afford a
house-elf who’s going to run amok with a wand!” said Percy
pompously, recovering himself.

“Ministry task force of five hundred
have been working on it all year.

“Leprechauns!” said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause
THE QUIDDITCH
WORLD CUP
􀂑 105 􀂑
of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging
around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

I will personally be ensuring that no underage
student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts
champion.”

“Krum was feinting!”

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of
objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to
include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing
Boomerangs.

Tents crumpled and fell as the
CHAPTER NINE
􀂑 120 􀂑
marching crowd swelled.

Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which
seemed to come from the stadium itself.

C H A P T E R T W E L V E
􀂑 171 􀂑
THE TRIWIZARD
TOURNAMENT
hrough the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and
up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously
in what was fast becoming a gale.

Ron bellowed, even as he
jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head.

He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived
by mediwizards with cups of potion.

Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Harry spun a small dial
on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed the players down
enough to read the word “Firebolt” on each of their brooms and see
their names, embroidered in silver, upon their backs.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring
down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

“My name is Winky, sir — and you, sir —” Her
dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested
upon Harry’s scar.

“I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a year!” one of
them shouted.

“There was someone behind the
trees . . . they shouted words — an incantation —”
THE DARK MARK
􀂑 131 􀂑
“Oh, stood over there, did they?” said Mr. Crouch, turning his
popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face.

As if it wasn’t specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the
Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —”
“Do us a favor, Perce,” said Bill, yawning, “and shut up.”

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another
lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly’s,
clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused
sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and
muttered, “Quietus.”

He didn’t
talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still
glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally
stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on
either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him,
THE QUIDDITCH
WORLD CUP
􀂑 111 􀂑
gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully
formed the words “HEE, HEE, HEE.”

“STUPEFY !” roared twenty voices — there was a blinding series
of flashes and Harry felt the hair on his head ripple as though a
powerful wind had swept the clearing.

They were mouthing
CHAPTER TWELVE
􀂑 184 􀂑
soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.

“Ron!” said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her
wand, muttered “Reparo!” and the glass shards flew back into a single
pane and back into the door.

Your elf was saving you a seat too — gulping gargoyles!”

The rain
sounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud
whistlings and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic
howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic.

Every time Muggles have got anywhere near
here all year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent appointments
C
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 96 􀂑
and had to dash away again . . . bless them,” he added fondly, leading
the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded
by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

“You were found with a wand in your hand!” barked Mr. Diggory,
brandishing it in front of her.

Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited
and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock,
which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands.

She gave a gasp, looked wildly
around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs.

Whether this statement will be
enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the
woods an hour later, remains to be seen.’

Dark figures were blundering through the trees;
children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating
around them in the cold night air.

Squinting up at the shamrock, Harry realized that it was actually
comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests,
each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

They
clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered
away through doors into the stands to their left and right.

Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself from contact
with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something
filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes.

Hermione watched
him vanish with her hands over her mouth.

Winky?” he said kindly, turning to the elf, but she
flinched as though he too was shouting at her.

They worked as a seamless team, their movements
so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one
another’s minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette
on Harry’s chest kept squeaking their names: “Troy — Mullet —
Moran!”

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven
hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three
largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and
Durmstrang.

Pigwidgeon began
twittering and zooming around his cage when they entered.

Hermione was immersed
in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs.
Weasley had bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley.

They worked as a seamless team, their movements
so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one
another’s minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette
on Harry’s chest kept squeaking their names: “Troy — Mullet —
Moran!”

He knew he
ought to feel exhausted: It was nearly three in the morning, but he
felt wide-awake — wide-awake, and worried.

Harry spun the
speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as
Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open —
four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black
Bludgers, and (Harry saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped
out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch.

Malfoy howled with
derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

How he could see
where he was going, Harry had no idea; there were flecks of blood
flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with
Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again —
“They’re going to crash!” shrieked Hermione.

Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it —
“Excellent!” yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and
heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats.

“So,” said Mr. Diggory, his eyes hardening as he turned to look
at Winky again, cowering at his feet.

The game
recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now
Dimitrov —
The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger,
and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck
quickly enough.

Though
Harry could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding
the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably
inside it.

Gold writing kept
dashing across it as though an invisible giant’s hand were scrawling
upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it,
Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

They
clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered
away through doors into the stands to their left and right.

Mostafa
seemed to come to himself; Harry, watching through the Omnioculars
again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and
had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and
were looking mutinous.

As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the
Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew
out to meet her.

“Dimitrov skins Moran — deliberately flying to collide there —
and it’s got to be another penalty — yes, there’s the whistle!”

“You’re a dishwasher at the
Leaky Cauldron. . . . but I’m a vampire hunter, I’ve killed about
ninety so far —”
A third young wizard, whose pimples were visible even by the
dim, silvery light of the veela, now cut in, “I’m about to become
the youngest ever Minister of Magic, I am.”

Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited
and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock,
which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands.

He was
not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the
Hogwarts champion.

A silver whistle was protruding
from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate
under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

High above them, floating along in midair, four
struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes.

An impartial
judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for
CHAPTER TWELVE
􀂑 188 􀂑
the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand
Galleons personal prize money.”

“He’ll be all right,” said Mr. Weasley quietly as they marched off
onto the moor.

THE QUIDDITCH
WORLD CUP
􀂑 103 􀂑
“I wonder what they’ve brought,” said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward
in his seat.

Raising his head a fraction
of an inch he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the
CHAPTER NINE
􀂑 130 􀂑
wizards’ wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding
into the darkness —
“Stop!” yelled a voice he recognized.

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, “He is
wanting paying for his work, sir.”

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already
there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the
many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared
like dark ghosts.

“That’d wipe the smirk off old Draco’s face, all right,” said Ron.

They did it in groups today; Harry, Ron,
and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied
by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually
against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways
through it . . . and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters
materialized in front of them.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers,
Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers,
so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes
without parachutes.

A champion was selected to represent each school,
and the three champions competed in three magical tasks.

“Last week she was saying we’re wasting our time quibbling
about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out
vampires!

Every time Muggles have got anywhere near
here all year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent appointments
C
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 96 􀂑
and had to dash away again . . . bless them,” he added fondly, leading
the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded
by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

We don’t want it confiscated.”

Thousands of flags waved,
adding their discordant national anthems to the racket.

They walked
M
CHAPTER TEN
􀂑 146 􀂑
back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward
the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because they were
so exhausted, and thinking longingly of their breakfast.

Every head in the Great Hall
swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a
fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling.

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor
House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded
on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop
herself from falling.

With a sharp
blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

The creature, whose legs
were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing
a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its
hands.

They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking
and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and
found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to
cinders.”

Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster’s
Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks went off unexpectedly
when Fred’s trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to
yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the
man’s leg.

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the
Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking
back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking
dispirited and forlorn.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large
curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

He had become distracted, and Harry
couldn’t blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire
and set his broom tail alight.

“Never mind, Ron,” said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron’s arm
to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy.

Thousands of flags waved,
adding their discordant national anthems to the racket.

Charlie’s head was poking out of the boys’ tent.

A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards
was congregated there, and when they saw Mr. Weasley coming toward
them, many of them surged forward.

“Leprechauns!” said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause
THE QUIDDITCH
WORLD CUP
􀂑 105 􀂑
of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging
around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

Loud jeering, roars of
laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came
a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

Harry spun the
speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as
Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open —
four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black
Bludgers, and (Harry saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped
out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch.

He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms.

“Treacle tart, Hermione!” said Ron, deliberately wafting its
smell toward her.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last
crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean,
Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again.

Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster’s
Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks went off unexpectedly
when Fred’s trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to
yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the
man’s leg.

Hagrid, of course, was still fighting
his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall
was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor,
but there was another empty chair too, and Harry couldn’t think
who else was missing.

So far it
was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last
seat at the end of the row behind them.

Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to spread the
narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Harry looked all
around him, but his wand was nowhere to be seen.

C H A P T E R E L E V E N
􀂑 158 􀂑
ABOARD THE
HOGWARTS EXPRESS
here was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air
when Harry awoke next morning.

Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at
Mr. Crouch.

Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; they
joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back
to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.

Harry’s
loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape’s hatred of him, a hatred
which had, if possible, intensified last year, when Harry had
helped Sirius escape right under Snape’s overlarge nose — Snape
and Sirius had been enemies since their own school days.

Every time Muggles have got anywhere near
here all year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent appointments
C
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 96 􀂑
and had to dash away again . . . bless them,” he added fondly, leading
the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded
by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

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.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see
people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was
moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting
odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

A
huddle of teenagers in pajamas was arguing vociferously a little way
along the path.

Mr. Weasley
winced.

“Rita Skeeter’s been
ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to
report.

The rain
sounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud
whistlings and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic
howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic.

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.

“Look at the referee!” she said, giggling.

Raucous singing was borne
toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the
lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads,
cackling and waving their lanterns.

But
when Krum’s name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a
resounding, earsplitting roar.

The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk
of the nose was missing.

Hermione was immersed
in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs.
Weasley had bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley.

Malfoy chuckled softly.

They’re having their memories modified
right now.”

“Wreaked
havoc and mayhem.

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the
Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking
back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking
dispirited and forlorn.

Every time Muggles have got anywhere near
here all year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent appointments
C
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 96 􀂑
and had to dash away again . . . bless them,” he added fondly, leading
the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded
by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

The only
tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting
Muggle attention.

A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance
of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing
to give any more information.

“And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 106 􀂑
Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan
Mostafa!”

Farther still along the
path, they walked into a patch of silvery light, and when they
looked through the trees, they saw three tall and beautiful veela
standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all
of whom were talking very loudly.

So far it
was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last
seat at the end of the row behind them.

He, Ron, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor landing
on their way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appeared
at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed.

On the contrary, their faces were
elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly
wings were bursting from their shoulders —
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 112 􀂑
“And that, boys,” yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the
crowd below, “is why you should never go for looks alone!”

“Why’s he sent you up here, if he knows you don’t like heights?”
said Harry, frowning.

They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking
and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and
found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

They denied they’d
ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went
back to their daily lives.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed
over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them: Mr.
Roberts, the campsite manager.

It sounded amazing though.”

Harry lay looking up at the canvas, but no flying fantasies
came to him now to ease him to sleep, and it was a long time after
Charlie’s snores filled the tent that Harry finally dozed off.

Dark figures were blundering through the trees;
children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating
around them in the cold night air.

Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last
three years in a row.

Harry didn’t understand why, but the only possible cause was the
sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough
to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign.

But when they reached the edge of the wood, their progress was
impeded.

“I’ll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he
could reach through the window,” said Mr. Diggory, “but they’ll
have a job proving it, there aren’t any casualties.”

Harry’s
loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape’s hatred of him, a hatred
which had, if possible, intensified last year, when Harry had
helped Sirius escape right under Snape’s overlarge nose — Snape
and Sirius had been enemies since their own school days.

In some trepidation, Harry opened the last parcel on his camp
bed.

“If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and
I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever
heard from you was an unfounded accusation?”

Squinting up at the shamrock, Harry realized that it was actually
comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests,
each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

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.

“Leprechauns!” said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause
THE QUIDDITCH
WORLD CUP
􀂑 105 􀂑
of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging
around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the
start-of-term feast.

Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at
Mr. Crouch.

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.

And he was right — for the second time, Lynch hit the ground
with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde
of angry veela.

They had met before, and Fudge shook
Harry’s hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced
him to the wizards on either side of him.

Harry turned — Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature
Krum — the three of them started across the clearing — but before
they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises
announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air,
surrounding them.

“Ministry blunders . . . culprits
not apprehended . . . lax security .

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of
his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was
left of his nose, and sniffed it.

You goes racketing around like
this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you’s up in front of the
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,
like some common goblin.”

Pots and pans everywhere.

Whatever happened was over so quickly Harry
didn’t catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and
Mostafa’s long, shrill whistle blast, told him it had been a foul.

When Cornelius
Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed
so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

Harry followed their descent through his Omnioculars,
squinting to see where the Snitch was —
“They’re going to crash!” screamed Hermione next to Harry.

Mr. Crouch’s
face was taut with rage.

Looking down,
Harry saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH
WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-andwhite
photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

It looked as though it
had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only
the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and
was none too skilled with a chisel.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down
onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled
themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived
by mediwizards with cups of potion.

Furious with himself, Harry spun his speed dial back to normal
as play resumed.

Just picture coming
home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house,
and knowing what you’re about to find inside.

Mr.
Weasley’s party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of
the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest
point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the
golden goal posts.

“And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a
THE DARK MARK
􀂑 137 􀂑
long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who
practice them?”

Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it —
“Excellent!” yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and
heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats.

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was
blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild
applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

You seem very well informed about
how that Mark is summoned, missy —”
But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch
seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, or Hermione
had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione’s words, they
had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction
she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

“ ‘A display from the team mascots will precede the match,’ ” she
read aloud.

I’m
starving.”

Crookshanks
took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the
time they entered London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all
ABOARD THE
HOGWARTS EXPRESS
􀂑 163 􀂑
severely scratched.

“It’s time-out!” yelled Bagman’s voice, “as trained mediwizards
hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!”

He heaved a pile of parcels onto Harry’s camp bed and dropped
the money bag and a load of socks next to it.

He is very busy,” said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty
space beside her.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had
been extinguished.

Harry turned — Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature
Krum — the three of them started across the clearing — but before
they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises
announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air,
surrounding them.

One of the marchers below
flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress
fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover
herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

Harry was reminded forcibly of
Dobby in his moments of terrified disobedience.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike
any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked
shout, but what sounded like a spell.

Harry went on,
ignoring Ron.

Thousands of flags waved,
adding their discordant national anthems to the racket.

And he was right — for the second time, Lynch hit the ground
with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde
of angry veela.

“Ten zero to Ireland!”

He saw Krum’s face
contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just
in time, while Lynch was flattened, and he understood — Krum
hadn’t seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him.

It did one circuit of the stadium,
then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal
posts.

Harry spun the
speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as
Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open —
four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black
Bludgers, and (Harry saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped
out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch.

Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed
by his dustbins.”

Harry got to his feet and peered around the
tree.

“Well — there’s a sort of riot going on,” said Ron.

“It definitely didn’t sound
like an elf.”

Harry quickly focused his own.

“See yeh at
the feast if we don’ drown!”

The spectators screamed and clapped.

At every House table, Harry could see people
either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to
their neighbors.

“It’s people like you, Ron,” Hermione began hotly, “who prop up
rotten and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to —”
Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff,
shrouded in a black traveling cloak.

All was quiet now; there was no sign of the
masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking.

Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flapping,
as Mr. Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to
tip with Harry’s.

“You can speak English!” said Fudge, sounding outraged.

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.

“Harry, if you’re not going to watch at normal speed, you’re going
to miss things!” shouted Hermione, who was dancing up and
down, waving her arms in the air while Troy did a lap of honor
around the field.

Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up,
the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder
and erupted into screams of delight.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard
Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools,
along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age
restriction on contenders this year.

A champion was selected to represent each school,
and the three champions competed in three magical tasks.

His team members were around him,
shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the
Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending
from their mascots.

He looked surlier than ever and refused
to let them mop him up.

“Ron — Harry” — his voice sounded shaky — “Hermione —
are you all right?”

“And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their
mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top
Box!” roared Bagman.

“Never mind, Ron,” said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron’s arm
to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy.

Muggle Repelling Charms
on every inch of it.

He no longer looked buoyant
and rosy-faced; there was no more spring in his step.

He knew he
ought to feel exhausted: It was nearly three in the morning, but he
felt wide-awake — wide-awake, and worried.

“Come on,” Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron
up the path again.

Harry quickly focused his own.

“Everyone ready?” he said, his round face gleaming like a great,
excited Edam.

It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and
he had never seen it look this stormy.

They heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where the
Portkeys lay, and when they reached it, they found a great number
of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the
Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as
possible.

His mother
was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if
she hadn’t been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty
smell under her nose.

A sleeve of Ron’s dress robes was dangling from it, swaying
with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.

Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody’s bizarre
appearance to do more than stare at him.

Gold writing kept
dashing across it as though an invisible giant’s hand were scrawling
upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it,
Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

It was a tense moment.

Harry spun
the slow dial on the right of his Omnioculars again, pressed the
play-by-play button on the top, and he was immediately watching
in slow motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across the
lenses and the noise of the crowd pounded against his eardrums.

Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts
so nobody can steal their secrets,” said Hermione matter-offactly.

Harry’s
loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape’s hatred of him, a hatred
which had, if possible, intensified last year, when Harry had
helped Sirius escape right under Snape’s overlarge nose — Snape
and Sirius had been enemies since their own school days.

He
was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

“STUPEFY !” roared twenty voices — there was a blinding series
of flashes and Harry felt the hair on his head ripple as though a
powerful wind had swept the clearing.

Somehow Oliver
Wood had never managed to convey with all his wriggling diagrams
what that move was supposed to look like.

They waited, listening to
the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees.

“Mental,” Ron sighed, shaking his head at the completely stationary
soccer players.

They’re having their memories modified
right now.”

More likely there’s a very shell-shocked cat wandering
around somewhere, covered in potato peelings.

C H A P T E R N I N E
􀂑 117 􀂑
THE DARK MARK
on’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr. Weasley
implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly
down the purple-carpeted stairs.

We have worked hard
over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find
himself or herself in mortal danger.

Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the
front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom
slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily
Prophet clutched in her hand.

All was quiet now; there was no sign of the
masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking.

It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently
solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten.

However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn’t
dare say anything.

“Wow!” said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams
could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-
deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

Apart from The Standard Book of Spells,
Grade 4, by Miranda Goshawk, he had a handful of new quills, a
dozen rolls of parchment, and refills for his potion-making kit —
he had been running low on spine of lionfish and essence of belladonna.

About twice as tall as a normal
man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild,
tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming — a misleading
impression, for Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew Hagrid
to possess a very kind nature.

I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter” — she
glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped — “but my master
sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.”

Draco Malfoy was
standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed.

“Wreaked
havoc and mayhem.

Volkov and
Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as
fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 108 􀂑
them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced
to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through
their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria’s first goal.

“I’m mentioned,” said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind
his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.

About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in
two rows here, and Harry, filing into the front seats with the
Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could
never have imagined.

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius has just given a very
generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies
and Injuries, Arthur.

Winky the
house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby.

But then, Father’s always associated with the top people
at the Ministry.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down
onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled
themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

“Ministry blunders . . . culprits
not apprehended . . . lax security .

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.

“There is bad wizards about!” she squeaked distractedly as she
leaned forward and labored to keep running.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.

It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently
solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten.

She was talking to Professor Sinistra
of the Astronomy department.

The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the
lanterns were lit by midday.

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was
blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild
applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

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!

Harry whirled around, and in an instant, he registered one fact:
Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing
right at himself, Ron, and Hermione.

Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.

He turned to tell Ron this, but
Ron’s face had gone oddly slack, and next second Ron was
yelling, “Did I tell you I’ve invented a broomstick that’ll reach
Jupiter?”

One of the marchers below
flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress
fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover
herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

“There is bad wizards about!” she squeaked distractedly as she
leaned forward and labored to keep running.

Highly embarrassed, he
repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat,
throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had
greeted like an old friend.

But Mr. Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it.

Its voice was higher even than Dobby’s had
been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Harry suspected —
though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf — that this one
might just be female.

The veela on the other
side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and
started to dance again.

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,
THE TRIWIZARD
TOURNAMENT
􀂑 177 􀂑
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.

Then he realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of
what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its
mouth like a tongue.

I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and
settle down, Dobby.

WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT — DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read
the shining purple lettering across his lenses.

I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter” — she
glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped — “but my master
sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.”

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and
said “Sonorus!” and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now
filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming
into every corner of the stands.

They were soon arguing
D
CHAPTER NINE
􀂑 118 􀂑
enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement
about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell
asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the
floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted
that everyone go to bed.

I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter” — she
glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped — “but my master
sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.”

Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself from contact
with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something
filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes.

Then Bill, removing the sheet
from his arm to check on his cut, said, “Well, it didn’t help us
tonight, whoever conjured it.

THE DARK MARK
􀂑 123 􀂑
“Keep that big bushy head down, Granger,” sneered Malfoy.

He bustled out of the kitchen.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their
places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard
Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools,
along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age
restriction on contenders this year.

Amos Diggory’s head was sitting in the middle of the flames like
a large, bearded egg.

He usually kept his wand with him at all times in the wizarding
world, and finding himself without it in the midst of a scene like
this made him feel very vulnerable.

A champion was selected to represent each school,
and the three champions competed in three magical tasks.

Several caught
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.

MAYHEM AT THE
MINISTRY
􀂑 149 􀂑
Ron’s and Hermione’s reactions were almost exactly as Harry had
imagined them back in his bedroom on Privet Drive.

Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it
was fraying beneath her fingers.

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing
enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large
tomato.

“No!” shrieked Winky, prostrating herself at Mr. Crouch’s feet.

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and
his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and
muscle that still attached it to his neck.

The field looked smooth
as velvet from their lofty position.

The rain
sounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud
whistlings and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic
howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic.

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing
enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large
tomato.

The
sight of the half-packed trunks seemed to have sent him into a
frenzy of excitement.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of
objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to
include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing
Boomerangs.

Weasley woke them after only a few hours sleep.

Harry wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even
though he was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting
player on the field.

“Oh c’mon, ’Er-my-knee,” said Ron, accidentally spraying
Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding.

This” — Dumbledore raised his
voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these
words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious — “is
a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will
still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it
is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be
able to cope with them.

The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent
specter covered in silver bloodstains.

As if it wasn’t specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the
Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —”
“Do us a favor, Perce,” said Bill, yawning, “and shut up.”

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing
enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large
tomato.

He had become distracted, and Harry
couldn’t blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire
and set his broom tail alight.

“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t afford a
house-elf who’s going to run amok with a wand!” said Percy
pompously, recovering himself.

“It was only a dream,” said Ron bracingly.

Even by the feeble light of the two wands, Harry could see that
a great change had come over Bagman.

About twice as tall as a normal
man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild,
tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming — a misleading
impression, for Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew Hagrid
to possess a very kind nature.

“Amos,” said Mr. Crouch curtly, “I am fully aware that, in the
ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your
CHAPTER NINE
􀂑 138 􀂑
department for questioning.

THE DARK MARK
􀂑 133 􀂑
“The Dark Mark!” he panted, almost trampling Winky as he
turned inquiringly to his colleagues.

“Ministry task force of five hundred
have been working on it all year.

They looked at one another, surprised.

He recognized the pimply wizard:
His name was Stan Shunpike, and he was in fact a conductor on
the triple-decker Knight Bus.

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing
enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large
tomato.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at
each other and Harry vividly recalled the last time they had come
face-to-face: It had been in Flourish and Blotts’ bookshop, and
they had had a fight.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family — safe,
reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer .

“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?

High above them, floating along in midair, four
struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes.

A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the
two balls of light.

Hagrid, of course, was still fighting
his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall
was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor,
but there was another empty chair too, and Harry couldn’t think
who else was missing.

They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking
and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and
found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

HAWKSHEAD ATTACKING FORMATION, he read as he watched the
three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Troy in the center,
slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians.

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the
Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking
back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking
dispirited and forlorn.

However, our own departments of International
Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have
decided the time is ripe for another attempt.

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven
hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three
largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and
Durmstrang.

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.

“We didn’t do that!” said Harry, gesturing up at the skull.

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the
patch of darkness Harry’s eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it
flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

Every time Muggles have got anywhere near
here all year, they’ve suddenly remembered urgent appointments
C
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 96 􀂑
and had to dash away again . . . bless them,” he added fondly, leading
the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded
by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

“The terror it
inspired . . . you have no idea, you’re too young.

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across
the path.

It was a tense moment.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard
Cup to Hogwarts,” he said, “the heads of the participating schools,
along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age
restriction on contenders this year.

Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as
high as you can go.”

“I wouldn’t fancy having to go and tell the Irish they’ve got to stop
celebrating.”

He had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying “me,” but
couldn’t bring himself to make Hermione look any more horrified
than she already did.

“Oh c’mon, ’Er-my-knee,” said Ron, accidentally spraying
Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding.

“Come on,” Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron
up the path again.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his
CHAPTER NINE
􀂑 132 􀂑
elf on the ground at his feet.

“ ‘A display from the team mascots will precede the match,’ ” she
read aloud.

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the
veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the
pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see
people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was
moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting
odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

Good job
too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best
places . . . ah, and here’s Lucius!”

“I is not doing it!” she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror.

Harry was with them; he would, of course, be supporting
Bulgaria, and he wondered vaguely why he had a large
green shamrock pinned to his chest.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival
suddenly broke.

“Home,”
“school,” and “work” were there, but there was also “traveling,”
“lost,” “hospital,” “prison,” and, in the position where the number
twelve would be on a normal clock, “mortal peril.”

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of
CHAPTER TWELVE
􀂑 180 􀂑
fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool,
the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L’s.

Draco Malfoy was
standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed.

Harry spun
the slow dial on the right of his Omnioculars again, pressed the
play-by-play button on the top, and he was immediately watching
in slow motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across the
lenses and the noise of the crowd pounded against his eardrums.

So that’s clause three of the Code of
Wand Use broken, for a start.

They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower,
THE TRIWIZARD
TOURNAMENT
􀂑 191 􀂑
which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink
silk dress.

A pale boy with a pointed face and
THE QUIDDITCH
WORLD CUP
􀂑 101 􀂑
white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father.

Dad could’ve got a promotion any time . . .
he just likes it where he is.

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius has just given a very
generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies
and Injuries, Arthur.

“Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry,”
said Ron.

On the contrary, their faces were
elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly
wings were bursting from their shoulders —
CHAPTER EIGHT
􀂑 112 􀂑
“And that, boys,” yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the
crowd below, “is why you should never go for looks alone!”

“As I was saying,” he said, smiling at the sea of students before
him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody,
“we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the
coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century.

“And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a
THE DARK MARK
􀂑 137 􀂑
long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who
practice them?”

“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t afford a
house-elf who’s going to run amok with a wand!” said Percy
pompously, recovering himself.

The full list comprises some four hundred and thirtyseven
items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if
anybody would like to check it.”

Harry knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish
Chasers were superb.

Crouch gave no sign that he had heard Mr. Diggory, but Mr.
Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent.

Harry and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since their very
first journey to Hogwarts.