Chapter 15 Beauxbatons And Durmstrang

Early next morning, Harry woke with a plan fully formed in his mind, as though his sleeping brain had been working on it all night. He got up, dressed in the pale dawn light, left the dormitory without waking Ron, and went back down to the deserted common room. Here he took a piece of parchment from the table upon which his Divination homework still lay and wrote the following letter:

Dear Sirius,
I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting, I was half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There's no point coming back, everything's fine here. Don't worry about me, my head feels completely normal.
Harry
He then climbed out of the portrait hole, up through the silent castle (held up only briefly by Peeves, who tried to overturn a large vase on him halfway along the fourth-floor corridor), finally arriving at the Owlery, which was situated at the top of West Tower.

The Owlery was a circular stone room, rather cold and drafty, because none of the windows had glass in them. The floor was entirely covered in straw, owl droppings, and the regurgitated skeletons of mice and voles. Hundreds upon hundreds of owls of every breed imaginable were nestled here on perches that rose right up to the top of the tower, nearly all of them asleep, though here and there a round amber eye glared at Harry. He spotted Hedwig nestled between a barn owl and a tawny, and hurried over to her, sliding a little on the dropping-strewn floor.

It took him a while to persuade her to wake up and then to look at him, as she kept shuffling around on her perch, showing him her tail. She was evidently still furious about his lack of gratitude the previous night. In the end, it was Harry suggesting she might be too tired, and that perhaps he would ask Ron to borrow Pigwidgeon, that made her stick out her leg and allow him to tie the letter to it.

“Just find him, all right?” Harry said, stroking her back as he carried her on his arm to one of the holes in the wall. “Before the dementors do.”

She nipped his finger, perhaps rather harder than she would ordinarily have done, but hooted softly in a reassuring sort of way all the same. Then she spread her wings and took off into the sunrise. Harry watched her fly out of sight with the familiar feeling of unease back in his stomach. He had been so sure that Sirius's reply would alleviate his worries rather than increasing them.

“That was a lie, Harry,” said Hermione sharply over breakfast, when he told her and Ron what he had done. “You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it.”

“So what?” said Harry. “He's not going back to Azkaban because of me.”

“Drop it,” said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him, and fell silent.

Harry did his best not to worry about Sirius over the next couple of weeks. True, he could not stop himself from looking anxiously around every morning when the post owls arrived, nor, late at night before he went to sleep, prevent himself from seeing horrible visions of Sirius, cornered by dementors down some dark London street, but betweentimes he tried to keep his mind off his godfather. He wished he still had Quidditch to distract him; nothing worked so well on a troubled mind as a good, hard training session. On the other hand, their lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

“But - but you said it's illegal, Professor,” said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. “You said - to use it against another human was -”

“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. “If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go.”

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. They knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Harry watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.”

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, “Imperio!”

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto the desk…jump onto the desk…

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.

Jump onto the desk.…

Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain.

Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.

Jump onto the desk.…

No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly…no, I don't really want to.…

Jump! NOW!

The next thing Harry felt was considerable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping - the result was that he'd smashed headlong into the desk knocking it over, and, by the feeling in his legs, fractured both his kneecaps.

“Now, that's more like it!” growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in his knees seemed to double.

“Look at that, you lot…Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!”

　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*　　　　　*

“The way he talks,” Harry muttered as he hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row, until Harry could throw off the curse entirely), “you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He had had much more difficulty with the curse than Harry, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. “Talk about paranoid…” Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and went on. “No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted ‘Boo’ behind him on April Fools’ Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?”

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work they were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned.

“You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!” she told them, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. “Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer -”

“We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!” said Dean Thomas indignantly.

“Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!”

Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself.

Harry and Ron were deeply amused when Professor Trelawney told them that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class. She read out large portions of their predictions, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them - but they were less amused when she asked them to do the same thing for the month after next; both of them were running out of ideas for catastrophes.

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their “project,” suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

“I will not,” said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. “I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks.”

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

“Yeh'll do wha’ yer told,” he growled, “or I'll be takin’ a leaf outta Professor Moody's book.…I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy.”

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest of the three, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY-
“Brilliant!” said Harry. “It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!”

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORETHE WELCOMING FEAST.
“Only a week away!” said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. “I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him.…”

“Cedric?” said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

“Diggory,” said Harry. “He must be entering the tournament.”

“That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

“He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,” said Hermione. “I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect.”

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

“You only like him because he's handsome,” said Ron scathingly.

“Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!” said Hermione indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like “Lockhart!”

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where Harry went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

Harry noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

“Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!” Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.

“It's a bummer, all right,” George was saying gloomily to Fred. “But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forrever.”

“Who's avoiding you?” said Ron, sitting down next to them.

“Wish you would,” said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

“What's a bummer?” Ron asked George.

“Having a nosy git like you for a brother,” said George.

“You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?” Harry asked. “Thought any more about trying to enter?”

“I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling,” said George bitterly. “She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon.”

“Wonder what the tasks are going to be?” said Ron thoughtfully. “You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before.…”

“Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't,” said Fred. “McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks.”

“Who are the judges?” Harry asked.

“Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel,” said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, “because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage.”

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, “It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School.”

“What are you on about?” said Ron, though Harry thought he knew what was coming.

“House-elves!” said Hermione, her eyes flashing. “Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!”

Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. His and Ron's lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves. True, both of them had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, but they had only done it to keep her quiet. Their Sickles had been wasted, however; if anything, they seemed to have made Hermione more vociferous. She had been badgering Harry and Ron ever since, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.

“You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?” she kept saying fiercely.

Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.

Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.

“Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?”

“No, of course not,” said Hermione curtly, “I hardly think students are supposed to -”

“Well, we have,” said George, indicating Fred, “loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world -”

“That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!” Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Harry looked up at once, and saw Hedwig soaring toward him. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she and Ron watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.

Harry pulled off Sirius's reply and offered Hedwig his bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to Ron and Hermione.

Nice try, Harry.
I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself Don't forget what I said about your scar.
Sirius
“Why d'you have to keep changing owls?” Ron asked in a low voice.

“Hedwig'll attract too much attention,” said Hermione at once. “She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding…I mean, they're not native birds, are they?”

Harry rolled up the letter and slipped it inside his robes, wondering whether he felt more or less worried than before. He supposed that Sirius managing to get back without being caught was something. He couldn't deny either that the idea that Sirius was much nearer was reassuring; at least he wouldn't have to wait so long for a response every time he wrote.

“Thanks, Hedwig,” he said, stroking her. She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

“Weasley, straighten your hat,” Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. “Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair.”

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

“Follow me, please,” said Professor McGonagall. “First years in front…no pushing.…”

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Harry, standing between Ron and Hermione in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

“Nearly six,” said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. “How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?”

“I doubt it,” said Hermione.

“How, then? Broomsticks?” Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

“I don't think so…not from that far away.…”

“A Portkey?” Ron suggested. “Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?”

“You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?” said Hermione impatiently.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. Harry was starting to feel cold. He wished they'd hurry up.…Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance.…He remembered what Mr. Weasley had said back at the campsite before the Quidditch World Cup: “always the same - we can't resist showing off when we get together.…”

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers -

“Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

“There!” yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

“It's a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

“Don't be stupid…it's a flying house!” said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer.…As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Harry just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Harry had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; he doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow - maybe simply because he was used to Hagrid - this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

“Dumbly-dort,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ‘ope I find you well?”

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore.

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Harry, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Harry could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

“As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?”

“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze ‘orses -”

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,” said Dumbledore, “the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges.”

“Skrewts,” Ron muttered to Harry, grinning.

“My steeds require - er - forceful ‘andling,” said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. “Zey are very strong.…”

“I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,” said Dumbledore, smiling.

“Very well,” said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. “Will you please inform zis ‘Agrid zat ze ‘orses drink only single-malt whiskey?”

“It will be attended to,” said Dumbledore, also bowing.

“Come,” said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

“How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?” Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.

“Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them,” said Harry. “That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?”

“Maybe they've escaped,” said Ron hopefully.

“Oh don't say that,” said Hermione with a shudder. “Imagine that lot loose on the grounds.…”

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then -

“Can you hear something?” said Ron suddenly.

Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.…

“The lake!” yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks -and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor.…

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool…and then Harry saw the rigging.…

“It's a mast!” he said to Ron and Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle…but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. “How good it is to be here, how good.…Viktor, come along, into the warmth…you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Harry caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He didn't need the punch on the arm Ron gave him, or the hiss in his ear, to recognize that profile.

“Harry - it's Krum!”

第二天一大早，哈利醒过来了，心里计划得满满的，似乎他休眠的大脑整夜都在计划着，他起了床，在微弱的晨光中穿好衣服，没叫醒罗恩就离开了宿舍，回到空空的大屋去，他从桌上拾起一片写着他的作业的纸片，写了下面这封信：亲爱的西里斯：我想我的伤疤犯痛不过是种想象，上次给你写信时我迷迷糊糊的，你不必回来，这儿一切均好，别为我担心，我现在一切如常。

　　哈利然后他爬出画像洞口，城堡静悄悄的，他往堡顶走去，最后他到了，在西塔楼的顶部。

　　奥里路是个用石头建的流通室，因为窗子全都没有玻璃，所以风很大，极为冷。地面上到处都是稻草、猫头鹰粪和老鼠、田鼠的残骸，成百只各类的猫头鹰在伸向塔顶的栖木上筑巢，几乎所有的猫头鹰都在睡觉，但时不时有个褐色的圆眼睛盯住哈利，哈利认出海维，她的巢在一只谷仓猫头鹰和一个茶猫头鹰之间，他急忙走过去，在满是鸟粪的地板上稍稍滑了一下。

　　他花了一会儿的工夫叫醒了她，她边看着他边在巢里跳来跳去，给他看她的尾巴，显然，她仍然对他前一天晚上的不敬感到气愤，最后，哈利说担心她会太累可能他该向罗恩借用皮维军，这才使得她伸出腿，让他把信绑在上面。

　　“一定要找到他，行吗？”哈利抚着她的背，把她托在手臂上走到一个墙洞口，“要在丹伯多之前找到他。”

　　她啄着他的手指，可能比平常用力，但她轻轻地咕咕叫着，好像在作保证一样，然后她展开翅膀，飞向天空，看着她飞去，哈利又有种熟悉的不安的感觉。他曾经是多么肯定西里斯的回信会缓解而不是增加他的忧虑。

　　“那是骗人，哈利。”荷米恩早餐时尖声说，哈利刚告诉了她和罗恩他所做的事。“你没有假想伤疤犯痛，你自己知道的。”

　　“那又怎么样？”哈利说，“他不会因为我而回到阿兹克班去！”

　　荷米恩张嘴还要再辩，罗恩尖叫着说，“别说了。”荷米恩看他一眼，不说话了。

　　接下来的几个星期，哈利竭力不去担心西里斯，他希望还有快迪斯来让他分心，艰苦的训练对于烦恼的心灵是最有效的，另一方面，他们的功课，尤其是邪术防御，越来越难了，要求也越来越高。

　　让他们吃惊的是莫迪教授宣布，他将轮流对他们施英普流斯咒语，以展示它的威力和试验他们能否抗拒它的作用。

　　“但是——你说那是非法的，教授。”荷米恩犹豫地说，莫迪已挥动魔杖，清除了课桌，房子中间空出一大片地方，“你说——对人施咒是——”

　　“丹伯多想让你们通过切身体会去学。”莫迪说，他的魔眼转向荷米恩，眼神古怪，一眨不眨地盯着她，“如果你宁愿以痛苦的方式——让别人对你施咒以便完完全全摆布你——去学的话，你可以走，我可无所谓。”

　　他疤结的手指向教室门，荷米恩脸红了，低声嘟哝，她并不是不想上课。哈利和罗恩相视而笑，他们知道荷米恩宁可喝布鸠伯斯波脓液也不愿错过如此重要的一课。

　　莫迪开始一个一个地把学生叫上前来，对他们施英普流斯咒，哈利看着同学在咒语的作用下一个个地做着最奇怪的动作，迪恩。

　　托马斯绕着屋子单足跳了三次，唱着国歌，莱文登。布朗模仿麻雀的样子，尼维尔表演了一套让人惊诧的体操，在他的常态中，他显然是不能够那样做的。他们并不都能够抵抗咒语，每个人只有在莫迪解除咒语时才恢复了正常。

　　“波特！”莫迪吼道，“你是下一个。”

　　哈利走上前，站在莫迪移开了桌子的空地上，莫迪举起魔杖，指着哈利说：“英普流斯。”

　　这是最奇妙的感觉，哈利觉得要飞起来了，所有心中的想法和忧虑被轻轻地拂走了，只留下模糊的，毫无踪迹的快乐，他站在那里，感到非常轻松，只是隐约知道大家都在看着他。

　　然后，他听到莫迪的声音，在他空荡荡的脑中回响着，“跳上桌子……跳上桌子……”

　　哈利驯服地弯下膝盖，准备跳了。

　　“跳上桌子……”

　　“但，为什么要跳？”另外一个声音从他脑后而来，提醒了他，“那样做真是够蠢的。”那声音说。

　　“跳上桌子……”

　　“不，我不想跳。”另一个声音说，它变得更坚定了……“不，我真不想……”

　　跳！立即跳！

　　接下来，哈利觉得非常痛苦，跳和竭力阻他跳的念头，他两者兼有，结果是他仓促地冲向桌子，把它碰倒了，他腿上的痛感，他知道伤了双膝。

　　“啊，有点像样了。”莫迪大叫道，突然间哈利发觉脑中那空洞、回荡的感觉消失了，他对刚才的事一清二楚，膝上的痛似乎加剧了。

　　“你们看，……波特抵抗了，他抵抗了咒语，他几乎战胜了，我们再试一次，波特，其余的注意了——观察他的双眼，那是你们该看的地方——很好，波特，棒极了，咒语可没那么容易摆布你！”

　　一小时后，哈利一瘸一拐地走出课堂，（莫迪坚持要哈利连续4次作演示，直到他完全可以摆脱咒语为止），“听他说，那样子。”

　　哈利说，“好像我们全都随时会被袭击。”

　　“啊，我知道。”罗恩说，他两级两级地跳着楼梯，在施咒时，他可比哈利惨多了，虽然莫迪和向他保证到午餐时，症状便会消失的。“他总是臆想，”罗恩紧张地往身后扫视，确信莫迪肯定听不到讲话，他接着说，“难怪在那里他们很高兴摆脱了他，你听到他告诉西摩斯的话吗？关于他怎么报复那个在愚人节时在他背后啐了一口的女巫的事，我们什么时候必须看完抵制英普流斯诅咒的书并完成其它的作业？”

　　所有的四年级学生都注意到这学期他们的完成的作业量明显增加了。当麦康娜教授布置了大量的变形学作业，招来全班学生特别大声的抗议时，她解释了其中的原因。

　　“你们现在处于魔法教育的一个非常重要的阶段！”她告诉他们，眼睛在方框镜片后发着眩目的亮光，“你们的普通巫师水平测试迫近了——”

　　“我们五年级时才要测试！”迪思斯愤愤地说。

　　“那不一定，托马斯，相信我，你们应作好能做的所有准备！

　　全班只有格林佐小姐成功地将一只豪猪变成一个令人满意的针插，我得提醒你，托马斯，你的针插却在别人拿着针靠近它时，还是惊恐地蟋起来！“

　　荷米恩，又一次脸红了，好像竭力不使自己显得太高兴。

　　在下节咒语课上，特雷络尼教授说哈利和罗恩的作业得了最高分，这让他俩觉得十分好笑，她念了大部分他们的预言，表扬他们毫不畏惧地迎接蕴藏的恶运，但当她要他们为后个月再作预言时，他们不觉得开心了，因为他们俩都想不出什么灾祸了。

　　同时，教魔法历史的宾西教授要他们写一周一次的文章，关于18世纪妖精起义的事。史纳皮教授迫使他们研究解毒剂，他们不敢掉以轻心，因为他暗示说可能会在圣诞之前毒倒一个学生，以试验他们的解毒剂是否有效，菲利特威克教授吩咐他们多读三本书，为召唤符咒的课作准备。

　　甚至哈格力也增加了他们的负担，尾巴冒火的史库斯生长得很快而没人发现它们吃了什么。哈格力对此很高兴，作为他们“工程”的一部分，他建议他们每隔一晚去一次他小屋观察史库斯，并记下它们异常的表现。

　　“我不干，”杰高。马尔夫直接说道，他觉得哈格力的建议好像是圣诞老人从他的袋子里拿走了一件特别大的玩具。“谢天谢地，上课时我可看够了这些禽类。”

　　哈格力脸上的微笑消失了。

　　“你得按我吩咐的做，”他咆哮道，“否则，我要向莫迪教授学一招……我听说，你表演的雪貂似模似样的，马尔夫。”

　　全班学生大笑起来，马尔夫因生气而满脸通红，但显然，想起莫迪给他的惩罚是足以让他痛苦的无法还嘴。上完课，哈利、罗恩和荷米恩兴高采烈地回到城堡，看到哈格力压住马尔夫特别让人满意。尤其是因为上一年马尔夫竭力使哈格力遭解雇。

　　到了前厅，他们发现无法前行了，因为那儿聚集了一大群学上，全都围着在一个坚在大理五楼梯下的大告示牌，他们三个中最高的是罗恩，他踮起足尖，越过前面的人，大声地对另外两位念道：魔法三人对抗赛来自比尔贝顿和丹姆斯安的代表队将于10月30日，周五六点抵达，届时将提前半小时下课——“太好了！”哈利说，“周五最后一节是药剂课，史纳皮将没时间给我们下毒！”

　　欢迎宴会开始之前，学生必须把书包及课本放回宿舍，然后在城堡门前集合，欢迎来宾。

　　“只有一个星期了！”海夫巴夫的埃尼·麦米兰眼里闪着光，从人群里冒出来，“塞德利克知道吗？我想我得去告诉他……”

　　“塞德利克？”罗恩茫然地问，埃尼已跑开了。

　　“就是迪格瑞。”哈利说，“他一定会进入比赛的。”

　　“那个白痴，会是霍格瓦彻的冠军？”罗恩问，他们从议论纷纷的人群中费力挤过，走向楼梯。

　　“他不是白痴，你不能因为他在快迪斯中打败了格林芬顿就讨厌他！”荷米恩说，“我听说他确是个好学生——并且他是个级长。”

　　她似乎想以此终了这个话题。

　　“你不过因为他长得英俊就喜欢他。”罗恩尖刻地说。

　　“对不起，我可不会只因别人长得英俊就喜欢他们！”荷米恩愤愤地说。

　　罗恩大声地假装咳嗽，听起来很奇怪，像“啦咔！”

　　前厅告示牌对城堡里的人影响极大，接下来的一周内，无论哈利去哪里，似乎都只听到一个话题，魔法三人对抗赛，谣言像传染性很强的细菌一样，在学生间流传着：谁要争霍格瓦彻冠军宝座，比赛将牵涉到什么，比尔贝顿和丹姆斯安的学生又如何与他们不同。

　　哈利也注意到，城堡似乎在经历一场彻底的清洁，几张肮脏的画像被取了下来，让它们的主人公很不高兴，他们坐着挤在画框里，恶毒地骂着，当他们摸到淡红的脸时，又目不忍睹似地闭着眼。那几套盔甲突然间变得锃亮，走动起来也没有吱吱声了，校容校纪主任阿格斯。费驰对学生忘记擦干净鞋子表现得极为暴怒，他甚至把两个一年级学生吓得患了病。

　　别的教工似乎也很古怪。

　　“尼维尔，求你别在丹姆斯安学生面前表露你连简单的变形符咒也不会！”在一堂特别难的课快结束时，麦康娜这么对尼维尔说，他在这节课上不小心把自己的耳朵接到一棵仙人掌上。

　　10月30日早上他们下去吃早餐时，发现大厅一夜间已被装饰一新，巨大的丝质长幅从墙上垂下来，每个长幅代表霍格瓦彻的一个班，绘有金狮的红色长幅是格林芬顿，有金鹰的蓝幅是卫文卡罗，有黑獾的黄幅是海夫巴夫，有银蛇的绿幅是史林德林，教工桌的后由，是一个最大的长幅，上面是霍格瓦彻学校队的标识：狮、鹰、獾和蛇，全都绕在一个大大的“霍格瓦彻”周围。

　　哈利、罗恩和荷米恩在格林芬顿桌上看到了弗来德和乔治，第二次了，他们不同寻常地坐在远离别人的地方，低声说话，哈利、罗恩、荷米恩向他们走去。

　　“好了，这是个班姆。”乔治不悦地对弗来德说，“但要是他不肯亲自和我们说话，我们就得把信给他送去，或者塞到他手里，他总不能老躲着我们。”

　　“谁在躲开你们？”罗恩问道，在旁坐下。

　　“班姆想躲开你。”弗来德对罗恩的插嘴很恼火。

　　“班姆是什么？”罗恩问乔治。

　　“他有个像你这么多嘴的弟弟！”乔治说。

　　“你们俩知道关于魔法三人对抗赛的什么事吗？”哈利问，“有法子混过去吗？”

　　“我问麦康娜冠军是怎么个选法，但她不告诉我。”乔治生气地说，“她只叫我闭嘴。”

　　“到底是什么赛项呢？”罗恩沉思道，“你也知道，我肯说我们行的，哈利，我们以前就做过危险的事……”

　　“没在一群裁判面前做过，你们没有。”弗来德说，“麦康娜说选手们将按他们比赛表现的好坏程度得到加分。”

　　“裁判是谁？”哈利问。

　　“嗯，参赛学校的校长总是裁判团的成员。”荷米恩说，每个人都惊奇地望着她，“因为在1792年的比赛中，三位校长都受伤了，那时一头选手们要捕获的棕熊到处冲撞。”

　　她注意到他们全都看着她，带着她惯有的对别人没有读过的书的不耐烦，她又说，“全在《霍格瓦彻历史》上写着呢，当然，那本书不完全可信，它应改名叫《霍格瓦彻修订历史》才更准确，或者叫《精选霍格瓦彻历史》，书里掩盖了学校阴暗的一面。”

　　“你说的是什么？”罗恩问，但哈利想他知道她接着要说的话。

　　“佣人小精灵！”荷米恩大声说，证实了哈利的想法，“在一千多页书里《霍格瓦彻的历史》一次也没提到，我们全都是压迫一百个奴隶的同谋！”

　　哈利摇摇头，吃他的炒蛋，他和罗恩的冷淡丝毫没有影响荷米恩要为佣人小精灵申诉的决心，的确，他们俩都花了两个钱币买了个徽章，但那样做不过是为了让她安静下来。但是，他们的钱似乎白花了，因为他们的做法，如果要说有什么成效的话，只是让荷米恩说得更多了，她自那时就一直纠缠着他们俩，先是要佩戴徽章，然后要劝说别人也这么做，她甚至喜欢每晚到格林芬顿的大厅里荡悠，拦住人们把募捐箱放到他们鼻子下边，晃动着。

　　“你们知道吗？为你们换床单、升火炉、清教室、弄伙食的是一群没有工资的被奴役的生灵！”她仍愤怒地说。

　　有些人，像尼维尔，捐了钱不过是免得荷米恩再对他们怒目而视，有些人对她的话稍有点兴趣，但不愿在宣传运动中再作进一步积极的行动，很多人则把整件事当作玩笑。

　　罗恩把眼睛转向天花板上，上面秋天的阳光照耀着他们，而弗来德对他的牛排尤为感兴趣，（这对双胞胎都拒绝买一个徽章），但乔治却向荷米恩探过身去。

　　“听着，荷米恩你去过厨房吗？”

　　“没有，当然没有。”荷米恩无礼地说，“我可不认为学生可以——”

　　“我们去过，”乔治指着弗来德说，“去过很多次，去偷东西吃，我们见过他们，他们都很快活，觉得他们的工作是世界上最好的——”

　　“那是因为他们受教育不够，又被洗了脑！”荷米恩变得火爆了，但她接下来的几句话被头顶上传来的呼呼的喧闹声淹没了，那声音宣告了猫头鹰信差们来了，哈利立刻往上看，海维朝他飞来，荷米恩随即停止说话，和罗恩急切地望着海维，她拍着翅膀，落到哈利肩上，收拢双翼，疲倦地伸出腿。

　　哈利拿下西里斯的回信，把他的牛排结海维吃，她便感激地吃了，哈利确信弗来德和乔治已沉浸在对比赛的进一步讨论中后，他低声给罗恩和荷米恩念西里斯的信。

　　哈利：我回到乡下，妥善地隐蔽起来了，我要你把在霍格瓦彻发生的事全都写信告诉我，别用海维，频繁更换猫头鹰，不必担心我，你自己小心就行了，别忘了我上次说的关于你的伤疤的话。

　　西里斯“为什么要频繁更换猫头鹰？”罗恩低声问。

　　“海维会招人注意的！”荷米恩立刻说道，“她与众不同，一个雪白的猫头鹰，不断地出没在他的藏身之处……我是说，它不是本地有的鸟，对吗？”

　　哈利卷起信，把它塞进袍里，心里比先前放心了一些。他觉得西里斯该回来了，没有被抓住真是件了不起的事。他也并不否认西亚斯离他近多了更让他放心，至少，他不必为每次回信都等那么长时间。

　　“谢谢，海维。”他抚摸着她说，她疲乏地咕咕着，在他杯里蘸了点桔子汁，然后又飞起来，显然是赶回奥里路睡个好觉。

　　那天学校里有种愉快的期待的气氛，大家上课都有点心不在焉，对晚上那些从比尔贝顿和丹姆斯安来的人更感兴趣，甚至药剂课也比以前更可容忍了，因为它提前半个小时结束了。当铃声响了时，哈利、罗恩和荷米恩赶紧回格林芬顿塔，按要求放好书包和课本，披上斗篷，冲下楼，跑到前厅。

　　各班主任正在指挥学生们排队。

　　“威斯里戴好帽子，”麦康娜教授对罗恩叫道，“普特先生，把你头上那可笑的玩意拿下。”

　　普怀特皱着眉，从发辫梢上取下一个大大的装饰蝴蝶。

　　“跟着我，快。”麦康娜教授说，“一年级的在前……别推……”

　　他们鱼贯走下前面的台阶，在城堡面前排好，这是个寒冷的晚上，天空中没有云朵，夜幕降下来了，苍白的半透明的月亮照在森林的上空，哈利在罗恩和荷米恩中间，站在前面第4排，他看到可利维在别的一年级学生间兴奋的发抖，充满期盼。

　　“快六点了。”罗恩看了一下表说，然后又往下看看那通往前门的马路，“你觉得他们会怎样来这儿的？坐火车吗？”

　　“我怀疑不是。”荷米思说。

　　“那么怎么样来？坐在扫帚上？”哈利望着星空，猜测着说。

　　“我认为不是那样的……没那么远……”

　　“通过波奇？”罗恩猜道，“还是他们会变身——”

　　“在霍格瓦彻之内你不能变身，我得告诉你多少次？”荷米恩不耐心地说。

　　他们兴奋地往暗下来的地面上看，但没什么动静，一切都像平常那样安静，哈利开始觉得冷了，他盼望他们快点来，那外地学生都在准备一个戏剧般的出场式……他记得在快迪斯世界杯之前，威斯里先生在营地上讲的话——“总是这样，我们聚在一起时，也禁不住要炫耀一番……”

　　丹伯多的叫声从后排传来，他和几位老师在那里站着，“啊！

　　我没弄错的话，比尔贝顿代表队来了！“

　　“哪儿？”许多学生急切地问，他们向四处张望。

　　“在那儿！”一位六年级学生指向森林说道。

　　一个很大的，比扫帚大得多得东西——或者说比100把扫帚大得多的东西，在深蓝的天空中飞驰而来，不断地变得越来越大。

　　“是条龙！”一个一年级学生完全昏了头，尖叫起来。

　　“别傻了……是一所飞屋！”迪尼。可利维说。

　　迪尼的猜测更贴切，那巨大的黑影掠过森林的树梢，从城堡窗里发出来的光照到了它，他们看到了一个庞大的、粉蓝色的马车，有一座大屋子那么大，向他们呼啸而来，十二匹有翼的马，每匹都如大象那样大，在空中拉着车子。

　　马车飞低了一些，前三排的学生往后退了几步，马车猛地停在地上，一声巨响吓得尼维尔往后一跳，踩到一个史林德林五年级学生的脚。那些比盘子还大的马蹄猛击到了地面。随即，车子也降下来，巨大的车轮蹦了几下，金色的大马扭着头，转着又大又红的暴眼。

　　车门打开前，哈利刚好看清车门上有一层防御图腾像（两支交叉的金色魔杖各自射出三颗星）。

　　一个穿着浅蓝袍子的男孩从车上跳下来，俯身向前在车厢地板上摸索了一会儿，展开一段金色的叠梯，他恭敬地往后退，哈利随后看到一只闪亮的黑高跟鞋从车里伸出来，鞋子如同小孩的雪撬那么大，接着，几乎在一瞬间一个哈利平生见过的最高大的妇人走了出来，一下子就解释了马和车子的体积为什么那么大，几个人倒抽了一口气。

　　哈利只见过一个人有这位妇人这么高大，那即是哈格力，他怀疑他们的身高是否有丝毫的差别，但不知怎么地——或许是他已看惯了哈格力——这位妇人（她现在走到楼梯下面，环视着睁大眼的前来欢迎的人群）看上去更显得异常的高大，她往前迈步，笼罩在从前厅中射来的灯光中，她展现了一张俊俏的皮肤，光滑的脸，眼睛只大又黑，水质一般，鹰钩鼻子，头发往后梳成髻，在脖根处闪亮着，她从头到脚都是黑缎，精美耀眼蛋白石在她脖子上和厚实的手指上闪闪发亮。

　　丹伯多开始鼓掌，学生们跟着爆发出掌声，很多人踮着脚，以便看得更清楚。

　　她向丹伯多走去，脸上露出优雅的微笑，她伸出亮闪闪的手，丹伯多虽说不矮，却几乎不必俯下身去吻她的手。

　　“亲爱的玛西姆女士。”他说，“欢迎到霍格瓦彻来！”

　　“丹伯多，”玛西姆女士的嗓音深沉，“别来无恙吧？”

　　“我很好，谢谢。”丹伯多说。

　　“同学们。”玛西姆女士说，往身后随便挥了一下她的大手。

　　哈利一直注意着玛西姆女士，现在看到了大约有12个男孩。

　　女孩，从他们的长相看，都在十六岁以上，他们从车里出来，站在玛西姆女士身后，他们的饱子是上乘的绸料做的，全都没披斗篷，只有几个在头上围了围巾，难怪他们在发抖。从哈利可以看到的那部分脸（他们站在玛西姆的巨大背影中），他们是在仰望着霍格瓦彻，神情急切。

　　“克罗夫到了吗？”玛西姆女士说。

　　“他随时会到的。”丹伯多说，“你愿意在这儿等候他，还是要进去暖和一下？”

　　“暖一暖吧，我想。”玛西姆夫人说，“但这些马——”

　　“我们的魔灵教师会很乐意照料它们。”丹伯多说，“他——从他——嗯，别的事务中回来，就会去照料你的马的，他现在在处理一点小事。”

　　“史库斯。”罗恩笑着对哈利说。

　　“我的马——嗯——不太驯服，得强硬点。”玛西姆夫人说，看上去她似乎怀疑没什么霍格瓦彻的魔灵教师能够胜任。“他们很强壮的……”

　　“我担保哈格力完全能胜任的。”丹伯多微笑着说。

　　“好极了。”玛西姆夫人稍稍一鞠，“请你告诉那位哈格力先生，这些马只饮麦芽威士忌。”

　　“会照您的吩咐去做的。”丹伯多说，他也一鞠身。

　　“来吧。”玛西姆命令她的学生。霍格瓦彻的人分开一条路让她和她的学生通过石阶。

　　“你觉得丹伯多的马会有多大？”谢默斯从莱文登和普怀特旁探出身来对哈利和罗恩说话。

　　“要是比这群还大的话，就连哈格力也没法对付了。”哈利说。

　　“可能他们逃脱了。”罗恩满怀希望地说。

　　“噢，别那么说，”荷米恩说，抖了一下，“想想这些东西逃脱了出来……”

　　他们都在稍稍地颤抖，站着等候丹姆斯安代表队的到来，多数人充满希望地望着天空，好几分钟，只有玛西姆夫人的马的鼻息声和跺脚声才打破了沉默，然后——“你听到什么了吗？”罗恩突然说。

　　哈利一听，一种奇怪的响声从黑暗中飘来，混杂着轰轰声和吸气声，似乎是有个巨大的吸尘器沿着河床移过来……

　　“湖泊！”李·乔丹指向下面的湖大声说：“看那湖！”

　　他们站在俯视地面的草坪顶部，从这儿可以清楚地看到黑色平滑的湖面——但突然水面激荡起来，湖心深处有动静，大水泡在水面形成了，波浪冲击着泥泞的湖岸——然后，湖的正中间出现了个漩涡，好像一个大活塞刚被从湖底拔了出来……

　　一个看起来像又长又黑的往子开始慢慢地从漩涡中间升上来，随后，哈利看到了帆缆……

　　“是桅船！”他对罗恩和荷米恩说。

　　船慢慢地气势雄伟地浮上水面，在月光中闪亮着，它样子很奇怪，骨架似的，仿佛是艘修复的废船，那模糊的灯光在舷窗里闪着微光，像鬼眼一般，终于，一声巨大的排水声，船完全浮现了，在荡漾的水面上波动，开始向岸边驶来，不一会儿，他们见到了锚被抛入浅处的溅水声和把木板铺上岸的砰砰声。

　　人们下船了，他们看到他们经过舷窗里的灯光的剪影，哈利注意到，他们的块头全都如同克来伯和高尔那样……但当他们走进了一些，走上草地，让前厅的光照到时，他发现他们的身影高大是因为穿了长毛编织的毛斗篷，但那领头走向城堡的人穿了另外一种毛斗篷，是光滑、银色的，就像他的头发一样。

　　“丹伯多！”他热情地招呼，走上斜坡，“你好吗？我亲爱的伙计，你好吗？”

　　“好得很，谢谢，卡克罗夫教授。”丹伯多回答。

　　卡克罗夫的嗓音听起来有点装腔作势，假热心，当他走进前门灯光中时，他们看到他长得高高瘦瘦的，像丹伯多的身材，但他的白发很短，下巴上的胡子（修成小卷儿）并没能完全掩盖他松驰的下巴，他靠近了丹伯多，双手握住丹伯多的手。

　　“亲爱的霍格瓦彻城堡。”他说，仰望着城堡微笑着。他的牙极黄，哈利注意到他的双眼并没有笑意，而是冷酷狡诈的，“在这儿多好啊，多好……维特过来，暖和一下……你不介意吧，丹伯多？

　　维特有点感冒……“

　　卡克罗夫往前召唤他其中的一个学生，那男孩走过时，哈利瞥见一个突出的鹰钩鼻子和又黑又浓的眉毛，罗恩不用在他臂上击一拳或对他的耳朵嘘一声，哈利都可以认出那个剪影。

　　“哈利——是克伦！”