The prospect of talking face-to-face with Sirius was all that sustained Harry over the next fortnight, the only bright spot on a horizon that had never looked darker. The shock of finding himself school champion had worn off slightly now, and the fear of what was facing him had started to sink in. The first task was drawing steadily nearer; he felt as though it were crouching ahead of him hike some horrific monster, barring his path. He had never suffered nerves like these; they were way beyond anything he had experienced before a Quidditch match, not even his last one against Slytherin, which had decided who would win the Quidditch Cup. Harry was finding it hard to think about the future at all; he felt as though his whole life had been heading up to, and would finish with, the first task.…
Admittedly, he didn't see how Sirius was going to make him feel any better about having to perform an unknown piece of difficult and dangerous magic in front of hundreds of people, but the mere sight of a friendly face would be something at the moment. Harry wrote back to Sirius saying that he would be beside the common room fire at the time Sirius had suggested; and he and Hermione spent a long time going over plans for forcing any stragglers out of the common room on the night in question. If the worst came to the worst, they were going to drop a bag of Dungbombs, but they hoped they wouldn't have to resort to that - Filch would skin them alive.
In the meantime, life became even worse for Harry within the confines of the castle, for Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and it had turned out to be not so much a report on the tournament as a highly colored life story of Harry. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of Harry; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry, the names of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions (misspelled) had been squashed into the last line of the article, and Cedric hadn't been mentioned at all.
The article had appeared ten days ago, and Harry still got a sick, burning feeling of shame in his stomach every time he thought about it. Rita Skeeter had reported him saying an awful lot of things that he couldn't remember ever saying in his life, let alone in that broom cupboard.
* * * * * *
I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now….Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it.…I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me…
But Rita Skeeter had gone even further than transforming his “er's” into long, sickly sentences: She had interviewed other people about him too.
Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.
From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people -Slytherins, mainly - quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments.
“Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?”
“Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?”
“Hey - Harry!”
“Yeah, that's right!” Harry found himself shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, having had just about enough. “I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more…”
“No - it was just - you dropped your quill.”
It was Cho. Harry felt the color rising in his face.
“Oh - right - sorry,” he muttered, taking the quill back.
“Er…good luck on Tuesday,” she said. “I really hope you do well.”
Which left Harry feeling extremely stupid.
Hermione had come in for her fair share of unpleasantness too, but she hadn't yet started yelling at innocent bystanders; in fact, Harry was full of admiration for the way she was handling the situation.
“Stunningly pretty? Her?” Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. “What was she judging against - a chipmunk?”
“Ignore it,” Hermione said in a dignified voice, holding her head in the air and stalking past the sniggering Slytherin girls as though she couldn't hear them. “Just ignore it, Harry.”
But Harry couldn't ignore it. Ron hadn't spoken to him at all since he had told him about Snape's detentions. Harry had half hoped they would make things up during the two hours they were forced to pickle rats’ brains in Snape's dungeon, but that had been the day Rita's article had appeared, which seemed to have confirmed Ron's belief that Harry was really enjoying all the attention.
Hermione was furious with the pair of them; she went from one to the other, trying to force them to talk to each other, but Harry was adamant: He would talk to Ron again only if Ron admitted that Harry hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire and apologized for calling him a liar.
“I didn't start this,” Harry said stubbornly. “It's his problem.”
“You miss him!” Hermione said impatiently. “And I know he misses you -”
“Miss him?” said Harry. “I don't miss him…”
But this was a downright lie. Harry liked Hermione very much, but she just wasn't the same as Ron. There was much hess laughter and a lot more hanging around in the library when Hermione was your best friend. Harry still hadn't mastered Summoning Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes.
Viktor Krum was in the library an awful lot too, and Harry wondered what he was up to. Was he studying, or was he looking for things to help him through the first task? Hermione often complained about Krum being there - not that he ever bothered them - but because groups of giggling girls often turned up to spy on him from behind bookshelves, and Hermione found the noise distracting.
“He's not even good-looking!” she muttered angrily, glaring at Krum's sharp profile. “They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky-Faint thing -”
“Wronski Feint,” said Harry, through gritted teeth. Quite apart from liking to get Quidditch terms correct, it caused him another pang to imagine Ron's expression if he could have heard Hermione talking about Wonky-Faints.
* * * * * *
It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. The days until the first task seemed to slip by as though someone had fixed the clocks to work at double speed. Harry's feeling of barely controlled panic was with him wherever he went, as everpresent as the snide comments about the Daily Prophet article.
On the Saturday before the first task, all students in the third year and above were permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione told Harry that it would do him good to get away from the castle for a bit, and Harry didn't need much persuasion.
“What about Ron, though?” he said. “Don't you want to go with him?”
“Oh…well…"Hermione went slightly pink. “I thought we might meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks.…”
“No,” said Harry flatly.
“Oh Harry, this is so stupid -”
“I'll come, but I'm not meeting Ron, and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak.”
“Oh all right then…” Hermione snapped, “but I hate talking to you in that cloak, I never know if I'm looking at you or not.”
So Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak in the dormitory, went back downstairs, and together he and Hermione set off for Hogsmeade.
Harry felt wonderfully free under the cloak; he watched other students walking past them as they entered the village, most of them sporting Support Cedric Diggory! badges, but no horrible remarks came his way for a change, and nobody was quoting that stupid article.
“People keep looking at me now,” said Hermione grumpily as they came out of Honeydukes Sweetshop later, eating large cream-filled chocolates. “They think I'm talking to myself.”
“Don't move your lips so much then.”
“Come on, please just take off your cloak for a bit, no one's going to bother you here.”
“Oh yeah?” said Harry. “Look behind you.”
Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had just emerged from the Three Broomsticks pub. Talking in low voices, they passed right by Hermione without hooking at her. Harry backed into the wall of Honeydukes to stop Rita Skeeter from hitting him with her crocodile-skin handbag. When they were gone, Harry said, “She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task.”
As he said it, his stomach flooded with a wave of molten panic. He didn't mention this; he and Hermione hadn't discussed what was coming in the first task much; he had the feeling she didn't want to think about it.
“She's gone,” said Hermione, looking right through Harry toward the end of the street. “Why don't we go and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it's a bit cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!” she added irritably, correctly interpreting his silence.
The Three Broomsticks was packed, mainly with Hogwarts students enjoying their free afternoon, but also with a variety of magical people Harry rarely saw anywhere else. Harry supposed that as Hogsmeade was the only all-wizard village in Britain, it was a bit of a haven for creatures like hags, who were not as adept as wizards at disguising themselves.
It was very hard to move through crowds in the Invisibility Cloak, in case you accidentally trod on someone, which tended to lead to awkward questions. Harry edged slowly toward a spare table in the corner while Hermione went to buy drinks. On his way through the pub, Harry spotted Ron, who was sitting with Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. Resisting the urge to give Ron a good hard poke in the back of the head, he finally reached the table and sat down at it.
Hermione joined him a moment later and slipped him a butterbeer under his cloak.
“I look like such an idiot, sitting here on my own,” she muttered. “Lucky I brought something to do.”
And she pulled out a notebook in which she had been keeping a record of S.P.E.W. members. Harry saw his and Ron's names at the top of the very short list. It seemed a long time ago that they had sat making up those predictions together, and Hermione had turned up and appointed them secretary and treasurer.
“You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W.,” Hermione said thoughtfully, looking around the pub.
“Yeah, right,” said Harry. He took a swig of butterbeer under his cloak. “Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?”
“When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!” she hissed back. “You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?”
“No idea, ask Fred and George,” said Harry.
Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, while Harry drank his butterbeer, watching the people in the pub. All of them looked cheerful and relaxed. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot were swapping Chocolate Frog cards at a nearby table; both of them sporting Support Cedric Diggory! badges on their cloaks. Right over by the door he saw Cho and a large group of her Ravenclaw friends. She wasn't wearing a Cedric badge though.…This cheered up Harry very slightly.…
What wouldn't he have given to be one of these people, sitting around laughing and talking, with nothing to worry about but homework? He imagined how it would have felt to be here if his name hadn't come out of the Goblet of Fire. He wouldn't be wearing the Invisibility Cloak, for one thing. Ron would be sitting with him. The three of them would probably be happily imagining what deadly dangerous task the school champions would be facing on Tuesday. He'd have been really hooking forward to it, watching them do whatever it was…cheering on Cedric with everyone else, safe in a seat at the back of the stands…
He wondered how the other champions were feeling. Every time he had seen Cedric lately, he had been surrounded by admirers and looking nervous but excited. Harry glimpsed Fleur Delacour from time to time in the corridors; she looked exactly as she always did, haughty and unruffled. And Krum just sat in the library, poring over books.
Harry thought of Sirius, and the tight, tense knot in his chest seemed to ease slightly. He would be speaking to him in just over twelve hours, for tonight was the night they were meeting at the common room fire - assuming nothing went wrong, as everything else had done lately…
“Look, it's Hagrid!” said Hermione.
The back of Hagrid's enormous shaggy head - he had mercifully abandoned his bunches - emerged over the crowd. Harry wondered why he hadn't spotted him at once, as Hagrid was so large, but standing up carefully, he saw that Hagrid had been leaning low, talking to Professor Moody. Hagrid had his usual enormous tankard in front of him, but Moody was drinking from his hip flask. Madam Rosmerta, the pretty landlady, didn't seem to think much of this; she was looking askance at Moody as she collected glasses from tables around them. Perhaps she thought it was an insult to her mulled mead, but Harry knew better. Moody had told them all during their last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that he preferred to prepare his own food and drink at all times, as it was so easy for Dark wizards to poison an unattended cup.
As Harry watched, he saw Hagrid and Moody get up to leave. He waved, then remembered that Hagrid couldn't see him. Moody, however, paused, his magical eye on the corner where Harry was standing. He tapped Hagrid in the small of the back (being unable to reach his shoulder), muttered something to him, and then the pair of them made their way back across the pub toward Harry and Hermione's table.
“All right, Hermione?” said Hagrid loudly.
“Hello,” said Hermione, smiling back.
Moody limped around the table and bent down; Harry thought he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until he muttered, “Nice cloak, Potter.”
Harry stared at him in amazement. The large chunk missing from Moody's nose was particularly obvious at a few inches’ distance. Moody grinned.
“Can your eye - I mean, can you -?”
“Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks,” Moody said quietly. “And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you.”
Hagrid was beaming down at Harry too. Harry knew Hagrid couldn't see him, but Moody had obviously told Hagrid he was there. Hagrid now bent down on the pretext of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, and said in a whisper so low that only Harry could hear it, “Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak.”
Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, “Nice ter see yeh, Hermione,” winked, and departed. Moody followed him.
“Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?” Harry said, very surprised.
“Does he?” said Hermione, looking startled. “I wonder what he's up to? I don't know whether you should go, Harry.…” She looked nervously around and hissed, “It might make you late for Sirius.”
It was true that going down to Hagrid's at midnight would mean cutting his meeting with Sirius very fine indeed; Hermione suggested sending Hedwig down to Hagrid's to tell him he couldn't go - always assuming she would consent to take the note, of course - Harry, however, thought it better just to be quick at whatever Hagrid wanted him for. He was very curious to know what this might be; Hagrid had never asked Harry to visit him so late at night.
At half past eleven that evening, Harry, who had pretended to go up to bed early, pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and crept back downstairs through the common room. Quite a few people were still in there. The Creevey brothers had managed to get hold of a stack of Support Cedric Diggory! badges and were trying to bewitch them to make them say Support Harry Potter! instead. So far, however, all they had managed to do was get the badges stuck on POTTER STINKS. Harry crept past them to the portrait hole and waited for a minute or so, keeping an eye on his watch. Then Hermione opened the Fat Lady for him from outside as they had planned. He slipped past her with a whispered “Thanks!” and set off through the castle.
The grounds were very dark. Harry walked down the lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid's cabin. The inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit up; Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking inside it as he knocked on Hagrid's front door.
“You there, Harry?” Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around.
“Yeah,” said Harry, slipping inside the cabin and pulling the cloak down off his head. “What's up?”
“Got summat ter show yeh,” said Hagrid.
There was an air of enormous excitement about Hagrid. He was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It looked as though he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but he had certainly attempted to comb his hair - Harry could see the comb's broken teeth tangled in it.
“What're you showing me?” Harry said warily, wondering if the skrewts had laid eggs, or Hagrid had managed to buy another giant three-headed dog off a stranger in a pub.
“Come with me, keep quiet, an’ keep yerself covered with that cloak,” said Hagrid. “We won’ take Fang, he won’ like it…”
“Listen, Hagrid, I can't stay long.…I've got to be back up at the castle by one o'clock -”
But Hagrid wasn't listening; he was opening the cabin door and striding off into the night. Harry hurried to follow and found, to his great surprise, that Hagrid was leading him to the Beauxbatons carriage.
“Hagrid, what -?”
“Shhh!” said Hagrid, and he knocked three times on the door bearing the crossed golden wands.
Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled when she saw Hagrid.
“Ah, ‘Agrid…it is time?”
“Bong-sewer,” said Hagrid, beaming at her, and holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps.
Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, Hagrid offered her his arm, and they set off around the edge of the paddock containing Madame Maxime's giant winged horses, with Harry, totally bewildered, running to keep up with them. Had Hagrid wanted to show him Madame Maxime? He could see her any old time he wanted…she wasn't exactly hard to miss.…
But it seemed that Madame Maxime was in for the same treat as Harry, because after a while she said playfully, “Wair is it you are taking me, ‘Agrid?”
“Yeh'll enjoy this,” said Hagrid gruffly, “worth seein', trust me. On'y - don’ go tellin’ anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know.”
“Of course not,” said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes.
And still they walked, Harry getting more and more irritated as he jogged along in their wake, checking his watch every now and then. Hagrid had some harebrained scheme in hand, which might make him miss Sirius. If they didn't get there soon, he was going to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and leave Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime.…
But then - when they had walked so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight - Harry heard something. Men were shouting up ahead…then came a deafening, earsplitting roar…
Hagrid led Madame Maxime around a clump of trees and came to a halt. Harry hurried up alongside them - for a split second, he thought he was seeing bonfires, and men darting around them - and then his mouth fell open.
Dragons.
Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-hike than the others, which was nearest to them.
At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which.…It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream.…
“Keep back there, Hagrid!” yelled a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he was holding. “They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!”
“Is'n’ it beautiful?” said Hagrid softly.
“It's no good!” yelled another wizard. “Stunning Spells, on the count of three!”
Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his wand.
“Stupefy!” they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons’ scaly hides -
Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking - then, very slowly, it fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragon hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn made the trees behind him quake.
The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands.
“Wan’ a closer look?” Hagrid asked Madame Maxime excitedly. The pair of them moved right up to the fence, and Harry followed. The wizard who had warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and Harry realized who it was: Charlie Weasley.
“All right, Hagrid?” he panted, coming over to talk. “They should be okay now - we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet - but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all -”
“What breeds you got here, Charlie?” said Hagrid, gazing at the closest dragon, the black one, with something chose to reverence. Its eyes were still just open. Harry could see a strip of gleaming yellow beneath its wrinkled black eyelid.
“This is a Hungarian Horntail,” said Charlie. “There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one - a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray - and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red.”
Charlie looked around; Madame Maxime was strolling away around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the stunned dragons.
“I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid,” Charlie said, frowning. “The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming - she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?”
“Jus’ thought she'd like ter see ‘em,” shrugged Hagrid, still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons.
“Really romantic date, Hagrid,” said Charlie, shaking his head.
“Four…” said Hagrid, “so it's one fer each o’ the champions, is it? What've they gotta do - fight ‘em?”
“Just get past them, I think,” said Charlie. “We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why…but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look.”
Charlie pointed toward the Horntail's tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-colored spikes protruding along it every few inches.
Five of Charlie's fellow keepers staggered up to the Horntail at that moment, carrying a clutch of huge granite-gray eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side. Hagrid let out a moan of longing.
“I've got them counted, Hagrid,” said Charlie sternly. Then he said, “How's Harry?”
“Fine,” said Hagrid. He was still gazing at the eggs.
“Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot,” said Charlie grimly, looking out over the dragons’ enclosure. “I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do for the first task; she's already having kittens about him.…” Charlie imitated his mother's anxious voice. “'How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit!’ She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. ‘He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!'”
Harry had had enough. Trusting to the fact that Hagrid wouldn't miss him, with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, he turned silently and began to walk away, back to the castle.
He didn't know whether he was glad he'd seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if he'd seen the dragons for the first time on Tuesday, he would have passed out cold in front of the whole school…but maybe he would anyway.…He was going to be armed with his wand - which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood - against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike-ridden, fire-breathing dragon. And he had to get past it. With everyone watching. How?
Harry sped up, skirting the edge of the forest; he had just under fifteen minutes to get back to the fireside and talk to Sirius, and he couldn't remember, ever, wanting to talk to someone more than he did right now - when, without warning, he ran into something very solid.
Harry fell backward, his glasses askew, clutching the cloak around him. A voice nearby said, “Ouch! Who's there?”
Harry hastily checked that the cloak was covering him and hay very still, staring up at the dark outline of the wizard he had hit. He recognized the goatee…it was Karkaroff.
“Who's there?” said Karkaroff again, very suspiciously, looking around in the darkness. Harry remained still and silent. After a minute or so, Karkaroff seemed to decide that he had hit some sort of animal; he was looking around at waist height, as though expecting to see a dog. Then he crept back under the cover of the trees and started to edge forward toward the place where the dragons were.
Very slowly and very carefully, Harry got to his feet and set off again as fast as he could without making too much noise, hurrying through the darkness back toward Hogwarts.
He had no doubt whatsoever what Karkaroff was up to. He had sneaked off his ship to try and find out what the first task was going to be. He might even have spotted Hagrid and Madame Maxime heading off around the forest together - they were hardly difficult to spot at a distance…and now all Karkaroff had to do was follow the sound of voices, and he, like Madame Maxime, would know what was in store for the champions.
By the looks of it, the only champion who would be facing the unknown on Tuesday was Cedric.
Harry reached the castle, slipped in through the front doors, and began to climb the marble stairs; he was very out of breath, but he didn't dare slow down.…He had less than five minutes to get up to the fire.…
“Balderdash!” he gasped at the Fat Lady, who was snoozing in her frame in front of the portrait hole.
“If you say so,” she muttered sleepily, without opening her eyes, and the picture swung forward to admit him. Harry climbed inside. The common room was deserted, and, judging by the fact that it smelled quite normal, Hermione had not needed to set off any Dungbombs to ensure that he and Sirius got privacy.
Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and threw himself into an armchair in front of the fire. The room was in semidarkness; the flames were the only source of light. Nearby, on a table, the Support Cedric Diggory! badges the Creeveys had been trying to improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read POTTER REALLY STINKS. Harry looked back into the flames, and jumped.
Sirius's head was sitting in the fire. If Harry hadn't seen Mr. Diggory do exactly this back in the Weasleys’ kitchen, it would have scared him out of his wits. Instead, his face breaking into the first smile he had worn for days, he scrambled out of his chair, crouched down by the hearth, and said, “Sirius - how're you doing?”
Sirius looked different from Harry's memory of him. When they had said good-bye, Sirius's face had been gaunt and sunken, surrounded by a quantity of long, black, matted hair - but the hair was short and clean now, Sirius's face was fuller, and he looked younger, much more like the only photograph Harry had of him, which had been taken at the Potters’ wedding.
“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously.
“I'm -” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” - but he couldn't do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he'd talked in days - about how no one believed he hadn't entered the tournament of his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at - and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron's jealousy…
“…and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner,” he finished desperately.
Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern, eyes that had not yet lost the look that Azkaban had given them - that deadened, haunted look He had let Harry talk himself into silence without interruption, but now he said, “Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute - I haven't got long here…I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about.”
“What?” said Harry, feeling his spirits slip a further few notches.…Surely there could be nothing worse than dragons coming?
“Karkaroff,” said Sirius. “Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?”
“Yes - he - what?”
“He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year - to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place.”
“Karkaroff got released?” Harry said slowly - his brain seemed to be struggling to absorb yet another piece of shocking information. “Why did they release him?”
“He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic,” said Sirius bitterly. “He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names…he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place.…He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well.”
“Okay,” said Harry slowly. “But…are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing.”
“We know he's a good actor,” said Sirius, “because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry -”
“- you and the rest of the world,” said Harry bitterly.
“- and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm,” Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, “but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.”
“So…what are you saying?” said Harry slowly. “Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But - why?”
Sirius hesitated.
“I've been nearing some very strange things,” he said slowly. “The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark…and then - did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?”
“Bertha Jorkins?” said Harry.
“Exactly…she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last…and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?”
“Yeah, but…it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?” said Harry.
“Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins,” said Sirius grimly. “She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap.”
“So…so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?” said Harry. “Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?”
“I don't know,” said Sirius slowly, “I just don't know…Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it hook like an accident.”
“Looks hike a really good plan from where I'm standing,” said Harry grinning bleaky. “They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff.”
“Right - these dragons,” said Sirius, speaking very quickly now. “There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell - dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon -”
“Yeah, I know, I just saw,” said Harry.
“But you can do it alone,” said Sirius. “There is away, and a simple spell's all you need. Just -”
But Harry held up a hand to silence him, his heart suddenly pounding as though it would burst. He could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind him.
“Go!” he hissed at Sirius. ” Go! There's someone coming!”
Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire - if someone saw Sirius's face within the walls of Hogwarts, they would raise an almighty uproar - the Ministry would get dragged in - he, Harry, would be questioned about Sirius's whereabouts -
Harry heard a tiny pop! in the fire behind him and knew Sirius had gone. He watched the bottom of the spiral staircase. Who had decided to go for a stroll at one o'clock in the morning, and stopped Sirius from telling him how to get past a dragon?
It was Ron. Dressed in his maroon paisley pajamas, Ron stopped dead facing Harry across the room, and looked around.
“Who were you talking to?” he said.
“What's that got to do with you?” Harry snarled. “What are you doing down here at this time of night?”
“I just wondered where you -” Ron broke off, shrugging. “Nothing. I'm going back to bed.”
“Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he'd walked in on, knew he hadn't done it on purpose, but he didn't care - at this moment he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama trousers.
“Sorry about that,” said Ron, his face reddening with anger. “Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace.”
Harry seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges off the table and chucked it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off.
“There you go,” Harry said. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if yon're lucky.…That's what you want, isn't it?”
He strode across the room toward the stairs; he half expected Ron to stop him, he would even have liked Ron to throw a punch at him, but Ron just stood there in his too-small pajamas, and Harry, having stormed upstairs, lay awake in bed fuming for a long time afterward and didn't hear him come up to bed.
哈利很想同西里斯面对面地谈一次，这个信念在接下来的两周中一直支持着他，如同地平线上一个永不黯淡的亮点。成为全校冠军的那种激动的心情已渐渐平复下来，随之而来的是一种隐隐的恐惧感。第一次任务已在渐渐逼近，好像是什么恐怖的怪物挡在他面前，让他前进不得半步。他从来没有这么紧张过，即使在快迪斯比赛前，或者是在同史林德林班争夺快迪斯杯的时候，他都没有这么局促不安。未来对于哈利来说，简直难以想象。他觉得他的整个生活都被卷入了“第一次任务”这个漩涡里面，也许会随之而中止……
事实上，他也不知道西里斯有什么法宝能让他觉得好受一些，这个任务对他来说就像是在众目睽睽之下第一次表演一项极具难度和惊险度的魔法。但不管怎么说，在这个时候只要看看西里斯那张友善的脸，哈利也会觉得是种莫大的鼓舞。他回信给西里斯，说他会在约定的时间到休息室的壁炉边与其碰头。他和荷米恩花了很多时间讨论怎样把那天晚上呆在休息室里的人赶走。如果这些方法还不奏效的话，他们就要丢进一袋“粪弹”了。但他们希望不要采取这种手段，因为福利克会剥了他们的皮。
与此同时，哈利在城堡里的日子变得越来越糟，因为理特。史姬特把她那篇关于三巫师比赛的报道发表了出来。而且那篇文章对于比赛倒是着墨不多，反而是对哈利的个人生活大肆渲染了一番。哈利的照片占据了头版的大部分版面，整篇文章（刊登在第二、六、七页）都是有关哈利的，比斯贝顿和丹姆斯安冠军的名字被误拼而且挤在了最后一行，塞德里克也没有被提到。
文章是十天前登出来的，但哈利现在只要一想到它，还是觉得无地自容。在理特。史姬特报道中的那一大堆话，他都记不清自己长这么大曾经说过没有，更别提在那个扫帚橱里说过没有了。
“我想我的力量来源于我的父母，如果他们看到我现在这个样子，会很为我自豪的，有时候夜里我会大声叫着他们的名字，而且我并不急于承认这一点……我知道在比赛中没有什么能伤得了我，因为他们在注视着我……”
理特。史姬特除了把哈利的话翻译成又长又臭的版本之外，她还采访了其他人。
“哈利最后在霍格里彻那里寻找了爱。他的密友柯林说哈利成天跟一个叫荷米恩。格林佐的女孩形影不离。这个在马格出生的女孩除了拥有惊人的美貌之外，还和哈利一样是学校里最好的学生之一。”
从这篇文章登出那时起，哈利就不得不忍受人们的冷嘲热讽，而这些讽刺多半来自史林德林班。
“波特，在耶稣变容节你哭鼻子的时候，要不要给你一条手绢呀？”
“波特，你什么时候成了学校里最棒的学生呀？难道这学校是你和格林芬顿一手创建的吗？”
“嘿，等一等，哈利！”
“对，就是这样！”哈利终于忍无可忍，在走廊上转过身来，大声喊道：“我为了我死去的老妈哭得眼珠子都快掉了，现在我还要去干更多——”
“噢不，你刚才把笔给掉了。”
后面站着卓，哈利觉得脸上变得又红又烫。
“噢，是的。”他嗫嚅着嘴，拿回了笔。
“嗯，祝你星期二好运。”她说，“我真心希望你能干得出色。”
哈利觉得自己刚才的举动蠢到了极点。
荷米恩也被搅进了这一不愉快的事件当中，但她并没有冲着不明事理的旁观者发火，事实上，哈利很欣赏她处事的态度。
“惊人的美貌？她？”当班西。帕金森读了理特的文章之后，第一次与荷米恩打了个照面的时候，她尖声大笑：“理特拿什么来作比较的——一只金花鼠？”
“不要理它。”荷米恩用一种自尊的口吻说，高昂着头大步流星地走过那些窃笑的女孩子面前，好像什么都没听见。“不要理它，哈利。”
但哈利不能不理。自从哈利把史纳皮关他监闭的决定告诉罗恩之后，罗恩就对他不理不睬的。哈利心里还存着一半的希望，希望他俩能在史纳皮的“地牢”中的两个小时里和好如初，但那天碰到理特登出了那篇文章，从而更使罗恩相信哈利喜欢这种出风头的日子。
荷米恩对他俩的行为感到很生气，她一个一个地劝说，试图使他们打破沉默，但哈利还是固执己见，如果罗恩不承认哈利没有将自己的名字写进燃烧的高脚杯，如果罗恩不向他道歉，他们之间就没有谈话的余地。
“这不是我先挑起的，”哈利固执地说，“这是他的问题。”
“你误解他了！”荷米恩忍不住说，“我知道他也误解你了——”
“误解他？”哈利说，“我没有误解他……”
但这完全是在撒谎。哈利很喜欢荷米恩，她和罗恩不同。不过当你成天和荷米恩在一起的时候，你会少掉一些欢笑，更多的时间是待在图书馆里。哈利仍然没有掌握召唤符咒，他好像遇到什么障碍了。荷米恩认为学习理论会有所帮助，因此午饭时间他们花了很多时间专心阅读书籍。
维特。克伦也经常长时间地待在图书馆里，哈利不知道他葫芦里卖的什么药。他是在学习呢，还是在寻找什么东西可以帮助他顺利完成第一次任务？荷米恩对克伦的出现很是不满，倒不是因为他妨碍了他们，而是因为成群的女孩子躲在书架后面探视着他，发出惊人的咯咯的笑声。
“他一点也不帅”她生气地咕哝着，注视着克伦的侧影。“她们喜欢他只是因为他的名气！如果他没有做罗斯基。芬特那件事，她们就不会再朝他看第二眼！”
“罗斯基。芬特！”哈利从牙缝里吐出这几个字。这说法和快迪斯的用语简直是谬之千里。一想到罗恩会对荷米恩的这种滑稽说法作何反应，哈利就觉得心里很不好受。
事情就是这样奇怪。当你害怕一件事情，而且愿意付出任何代价让时间变慢的时候，它反而毫不留情地加快速度。日子在飞逝，离第一次任务越来越近，就像有人故意调快了时钟一样。不管哈利走到哪里，他都无法摆脱那种慌乱的感觉，就好像那些由《先知日报》的文章引发的恶意讽刺一样无处不在。
第一次任务开始前的星期天，所有三年级以上的学生都可以参观霍斯马得村。荷米恩告诉哈利离开城堡一阵子会对他有好处，但哈利好像听不过去。
“可是，罗恩怎么办呢？”他说。“难道你不想和他一起去？”
“噢……那……，”荷米恩脸上微微泛起了红晕。“我以为我们可以和他在三扫帚酒吧处会合……”
“不会。”哈利面无表情地说。
“噢，哈利，这么做真愚蠢——”
“我会来的，但我不想见到罗恩，而且我会穿着隐身袍。”
“噢，好吧，那么……”荷米恩说到这儿停住了，“可我不喜欢和穿着袍子的你讲话，因为我根本看不见你是不是在我对面。”
于是哈利在宿舍里穿上他的隐身袍，下了楼，和荷米恩一起动身前往霍斯马得。
袍子掩护下的哈利分外轻松，他看着别的学生走过去，进入村庄，他们中的大部分佩戴印有“支持塞德利克。迪格瑞的徽章”字样，幸亏沿路上哈利没有听到什么恶毒的评论，也没见到有人引用那篇该死的文章。
“现在人们可都在看着我了。”荷米恩有点闹别扭地说。那时是晚些时候，他们正走出甜蜜杜克糖果店，手里拿着大号装奶油巧克力吃得津津有味，“他们以为我在跟自个儿说话呢。”
“那么就少动些嘴皮子吧。”
“好啦，就稍稍掀开一下你的抱子嘛，这儿没有人会找你麻烦的。”
“哦，是吗？”哈利说，“看看你身后。”
理特。史姬特和她的摄影师刚从三扫帚酒吧里出来。她们低声讲着话，看也没看荷米恩一眼就经过了他们。哈利为了躲避理特。史姬特喝醉后在空中挥舞的鳄鱼皮手袋不得不退回甜蜜杜克糖果店内。
那两个酒鬼一走，哈利就说，“她在村里住下了，我打赌她会来看我们执行第一次任务。”
哈利这么说着的时候，腹中泛起一股难言的恐慌，仿佛翻江倒海一般，丝丝凉意传遍全身，可他没提这事，荷米恩和哈利还没怎么讨论过第一次任务里要怎么对付，哈利感觉到荷米恩连想都不去想它。
“她可走了。”荷米恩松了口气，目光好像穿过哈利一直望到高街的尽头。“我说干嘛不去酒吧里喝杯黄油啤酒呀，天气有点冷了不是嘛？就算碰见罗思你也用不着跟他说话！”她看出了哈利沉默不答的原因，就有点恼火地补充了一句。
三扫帚酒吧里可座无虚席，大部分人是霍格瓦彻学校里下午没课来这儿消遣的学生，可也还有一些哈利在别处极少见到的魔法师。
哈利推想霍斯马得是全英国唯—一个到处是巫师的村子，这儿对女巫来说更可谓是避难天堂，因为女巫们比不上男术士会乔装自己。
身着隐身袍在人群中移动可真不容易，因为万一意外踩到某人就会异致极为使人尴尬的情形。荷米恩去了买酒，哈利就缓缓地侧身挺进，目标是墙角的一张空桌子。中途哈利见到了罗恩，他正和弗来德、克威和李·乔丹坐在一起。哈利心中强忍着要在罗恩后脑勺狠狠地来一下的冲动，去到桌旁一屁股坐了下来。
荷米思随后就过来了，推了一杯黄酒啤酒到他袍下。
“我在这儿一个人坐着简直就像白痴。”荷米恩咕哝着，“幸亏我有备而来。”
她接着抽出一本有S、P、、E、W成员记录的笔记本。哈利看到自己和罗恩的名字列在短短名单的上方。他们在一起坐着编造预言好像是很久以前的事了，后来荷米恩出现了，指派他俩做秘书和财政官。
“你说，我可能应该设法让一些村民加入S、P、E、W。”荷米恩环顾一下酒吧，若有所思地说。
“对，你应该，”哈利说，他大喝了一口酒。“荷米恩，你什么时候才打算放弃这么P.E、W劳什子事？”
“到佣人小精灵们都有体面的收入和良好的工作待遇时我才会放弃！”她反击道，“你知道吗，我在想是时候采取些更直接的行动了。
我搞不懂你是怎么进入学校厨房的？“
“我也不懂，要问就问弗来德和乔治。”哈利回答。荷米恩又陷入沉思，哈利就边喝酒边看着酒吧里的人。大家看起来既轻松又快活。
玛克米尔和艾伯特尔在附近一张桌子交换着巧克力青蛙糖的卡片，两个人都戴了支持塞德里克。迪格瑞的徽章在饱上。就在门边上哈利看到卓和一大群她的黑爪子朋友。她可没有戴那徽章以这稍稍让哈利心里好过了一点点。
哈利多想象这里的人一样，坐着讲话啊说笑啊，除了作业什么别的东西也不用担心。如果能这样，要哈利付什么代价他都愿意。他设想着要是自己的名字没出现在燃烧的高脚杯上的话坐在这儿的感觉又会是怎样。起码他就用不着穿隐身袍了。罗恩也会坐在他旁边。还有荷米恩，他们三个人就可以开开心心地猜猜星期二学校的勇士们要面对些什么样艰难危险的任务了。他就会很期待那天来临，安安稳稳地坐在看台上的座椅里边，看那些勇士施展平生所学或者和别人一起为塞德里克加油。
他有点儿想知道别的勇士们有何感想。最近他每次看到塞德里克他都是在众多拥戴者的包围之下的，显得既紧张又兴奋，哈利在走廊进道上也不时瞥见芙璐·迪来高，保持她的一贯风格，高傲又冷静。
而克伦就只泡在图书馆里，熟读群书。
哈利想起了西里斯，他那又紧又硬的领结仿佛些微松动了点。
再过十二小时哈利就会和他说着话了，因为今晚可是他们约好在普通房里的火炉进见面的——如果没出什么岔子，正如最近清事顺利的话。
“看啊！是哈格力！”荷米思说。
哈格力后脑那无比蓬松的一头乱发——他必定是极为宽大地放过了难以完成使命的柬发带——在众人中显现。哈利搞不懂自己居然刚才没一眼认出他，因为哈格力实在太显眼了，又小心翼翼地站着。哈利看到哈格力弯腰和莫迪教授说话。哈格力面前的是他平日惯常唱的超大杯啤酒，可莫迪只是喝自己带的温水瓶里的东西。罗斯玛特女士这位漂亮老板娘好像也不怎么介意，她只是在到附近桌子收玻璃杯子时有点不赞许地看着莫迪。可能她觉得莫迪这种做法是对她的加香料蜜酒是一种侮辱吧，可哈利明白点原委。莫迪在上次教授他们对抗黑暗界之法的课程时已经说过无论何时他都更倾向于用自备的饮食，因为对黑暗术士来说要在一杯没人留意的酒中下毒实在是太容易了。
哈利在一边看着，见到哈格力和莫迪起身要走。他挥了挥手，才想起哈格力根本看不见他。可是莫迪反倒稍为迟疑了一下，他的魔眼盯着哈利站着的角落。莫迪敲了敲哈格力的背下方（因为够不着哈格力的肩头），嘀咕了些什么，于是两个人就折回酒吧里面，向着哈利和荷米恩的桌子走来。
“还好吧？荷米恩？”哈格力大声说。
“你好！”荷米恩笑笑说。
莫迪拐着脚绕桌子走几走，然后弯下腰来，哈利还以为他要看S.P.E、W的记录，谁知他开口道，“袍子不错啊，波特。”
哈利大为吃惊地盯着他。莫迪鼻子上那显著的鼻管正在眼前几英尺处。莫迪笑了。
“你的魔法眼能——我是说，你能——？”
“对，我的那眼睛可以看穿隐身袍，”莫迪平静地承认，“而且我告诉你，这点有时非常管用。”
哈格力也在向下朝着哈利笑。哈利知道他看不见自己，可莫迪显然已告诉了哈格力哈利在那儿了。
哈格力现在也俯身看S、P、E、W笔记本的扉页，他用低得只有哈利能听见的声音说，“哈利，今晚午夜到我的小屋来，穿那袍子来。”
哈格力站起身又大声说，“见到你很高兴，荷米恩。”眨眨眼，就走了，莫迪跟着他也走了。
“他干嘛约我半夜见面？”哈利惊讶地说。
“他有嘛？”荷米思也显得很吃惊，“我怀疑他的目的，不知道你该不该去，哈利。”她紧张地看看四周，小声说，“你可能会迟到见西里斯的。”
半夜去见哈格力的确会缩短他和西里斯会面的时间。荷米恩建议派海维去跟哈格力说哈利去不了——想当然认为海维会同意当这信差——然而哈利，却觉得最好还是去见哈格力，只要速战速决就行。哈利十分好奇哈格力找他去的目的，他可从没约过哈利这么晚会面。
那晚十一点半，哈利假装要早点上床就寝，实际上披上了隐身袍，小心翼翼穿过普通房爬下楼梯。还有好几个人没睡在房里，克利维兄弟弄大了一堆支持塞德里克。克格瑞的徽章，正努力要说服徽章们改为说支持哈利·波特。到目前为止，他们只能努力到让徽章同意不显示臭波特的字样。哈利爬过他们身边去到肖像洞前，看着表等了一分钟光景。然后如计划好的一样，荷米恩从外面为他打开了胖大婶画门。他闪身而过，低声道了句“多谢！”就动身走出城堡了。
操场一片漆黑。哈利走过草地，朝着哈格力小屋里的灯光前进。
庞大的比尔贝顿马车里面也亮着灯，哈利敲哈格力前门时可以听见玛西姆夫人在里面讲话。
“是你吗，哈利？”哈格力轻声问，开了门四下里望。
“是我，”哈利滑进屋内，脱去斗袍。“什么事呀？”
“有些东西给你看，”哈格力说。
哈格力处于一种极大的兴奋之中。他衣服纽扣洞上插了一朵花，看起来就像是一个超大号的防窒息物。而且他也好像放弃了再用润滑油抹头，但肯定他有尝试过梳一下头，证据就是，哈利看到的还在他头上晃荡着的梳子碎齿。
“你要给我看什么？”哈利机警地问，心想是不是史库斯下了蛋，或是哈格力又在哪个酒吧里从陌生人手中买了头三头狗。
“跟着我，别出声，还有穿好那袍，”哈格力说，“我们不带上弗兰了，他不会喜欢看那东西的。”
“听着，哈格力，我不可以待很久，我一点钟还得回城堡里去呢——”
可哈格力根本没在听，他开了门，踏入夜色之中。哈利赶忙跟上，出乎意外的是，哈格力正领着他去比尔贝顿马车。
“哈格力，这是怎么——？”
“嘘！”哈格力小声说着，拿着他的金色十字杖在门上敲了三下。
玛西姆夫人开了门。她厚重的肩膀上围了一条丝巾。她见到哈格力时笑笑：“啊，哈格力，是时候了吗？”
“你好！”哈格力对她笑着说，伸手扶她走下金色的台阶。
玛西姆夫人关上身后的门，绕着哈格力的手沿着围场边出发，那围场里有玛西姆夫人的巨器马。哈利小跑着跟上他们，完全给弄糊涂了。难道哈格力要让他见的是玛西姆夫人？任何时候哈利都可以见她呀，她又不是怎么难找。
然而玛西姆夫人原来也和哈利一样蒙在鼓里，过了一会儿她开玩笑似地说，“你这到底是要带我上哪儿呀，哈格力？”
“你会喜欢那儿的，”哈格力大着嗓门说，“值得一看，相信我，嗯——不过可千万别告诉任何人我带你去，懂吗？你们是不该知道的。”
“当然不会告诉别人。”玛西姆夫人扑闪着眼睛说，她的眼睫毛又黑又长。
他们继续走着，哈利不时看看表，小跑着赶上他们的脚步，心里越来越不耐烦。哈格力的计划太过草率了，可能会连累哈利错过和西里斯的约会。如果他们不赶快抵达目的地的话，他可要转身就走，回城堡去，让哈格力和玛西姆夫人好好享受俩人的月下漫步了。
可就在那时——他们已经沿着树林边走了那么远，直到看不到城堡和湖水时——哈利听到了一些声响。前方有人在大喊。然后是一阵把耳朵都能撕裂的巨响。
哈格力领着玛西姆夫人绕过一个树丛，便止住了脚步。哈利趋上前去，站在他们旁边——有那么一秒，他看到了火焰，还有四周狂奔的人——然后他吃惊得张大了嘴巴。
是龙！
四只大吨量的成年大龙，正在一个用厚水围起来的围栏里直立起来、咆哮着、喷着粗气——它们大张的嘴里不仅有尖牙，更喷出阵阵火流，场地里它们伸长了脖子向五十尺高空喷出烈火。有一头银灰蓝色的龙有着长长尖尖的角，向地面上的术士们咆哮怒吼，另一只磷片光滑的绿龙，正用尽全力扭着身子重重地跺地；再有一条红龙，脸上长了一圈古怪的金色河子，正瞄准天上蘑茹状的云朵练喷火呢；再有最后一只，黑色巨龙，比其他任何一只都更像大蜥蜴，也离他们最近。
场面上起码有三十个术士，每七、八个人对付一头龙，尽量想控制它们，死命拉着系在大龙们颈上和腿上皮圈的铁链不松手。哈利完全给这景像镇住了，他抬起头，遥望高空那黑色巨龙的眼睛，那眼睛里有猫那样的圆圆的眼珠子，鼓很大大的，是因为害怕还是愤怒，哈利不清楚，它高声尖叫长号，声音恐惧难听至极。
“待在那儿别过来，哈格力，”一个临近围墙的术士叫道，死扯住手中的铁链。“那龙可以在二十英尺范围内喷火哪！我还见过那黑龙在四十英尺范围内喷火呢！”
“这喷火岂不很美吗？”哈格力温柔地说。
“这可是玩命啊！”另一个术士大喊，“数三下，用昏迷术法。”
哈利看到每一个看龙士都拿出了魔杖。
“史达飞！”他们齐声高喊，于是昏迷咒语像喷火的火箭射入夜空，又化作流星雨洒落在大龙布满磁片似的兽皮上——哈利看着靠他们最近的那龙双腿开始站立不稳，危险地摆来摆去，嘴巴突然张开，发出一阵怒号，鼻中也熄了火，可烟还在冒——然后，极为缓慢地，倒了下来——几吨重的强壮之躯，还有那黑色的磷片，砰然倒下，声音大到哈利可以发誓说背后的树也被震得发抖。
养龙人放下手中的魔杖，奔向他们所看管的躺在地上如同座座小山的动物，他们赶忙束紧铁链，紧紧地缚住铁笼，这些铁链的～端深深埋在地底下。
“想近看一下吗？”哈格力兴奋地问玛西姆夫人，他们中的两人慢慢移向栅栏，哈利紧紧跟在后面，哈利终于认出那个先前警告哈格力不要走近的人是谁了，他就是查理。威斯里。
“好了吗？哈格力？”他气喘嘘嘘地说，“他们现在状态很好，我们将他们关在拉网里放在路上，虽然他们可能喜欢醒来时面对的是黑暗和宁静，但是，正如你所看到的，他们本来就不开心，一点都不开心。”
“你有哪些种类的，查理？”哈格力问道，眼睛仍然盯着最近的那条黑色的龙，神情中带着一丝崇敬，那只龙的眼睛睁得又大又圆，哈利似乎在它眨巴眨巴的眼睛中看到了一线闪亮的金黄。
“这是匈牙利的号角尾龙，”查理说，“那边有一只威尔土的透身绿，小的那只就是；还有瑞士的短鼻龙，那只蓝灰色的；还有一只中国火球龙，红色的那只。”
查理环顾四周，玛西姆夫人正在铁笼子的四周转悠，凝视着吓怕的龙群。
“我不明白你为何带她来，哈格力，”查理皱着眉头说，“选手不应该知道即将面对的是什么东西，她肯定会告诉她的学生的，不是吗？”
“只当作她喜欢看不就得了。”哈格力耸了耸肩，眼睛仍然盯着笼子里的龙群。
“真是很浪漫耶，哈格力。”查理边说边摇头。
“四只……那么就是每个选手对付一只，对吗？”哈格力问道。
“或许只是跨过他们，”查理说，“但是说实话，我并不羡慕碰上号尾龙的那位，那只看起来很可怕，它的尾部看起来和头部一样凶狠危险，你看。”
查理指着号尾龙的尾巴，哈利果真看到长长的钉状物密密麻麻地排列着。
这时，查理的五个同行也走向号尾龙，他们提着一大堆巨大的灰色蛋状物，放在号尾龙的身旁，号尾龙发出一声饥渴的吼叫。
“我已安排好了，哈格力，”查理严肃地说道，接着他又问哈格力，“哈利怎么样了？”
“挺好的。”哈格力说着，眼睛仍然盯着鸡蛋。
“希望他看到这些东西时还能保持那个样子，”查理一本正经地说，很小心地不去靠近栅栏，“我不敢告诉妈妈他即将碰到的第一个难题是什么，她总是弄一大堆轻桃的女孩子在他身边……”查理摹仿着他妈妈焦急的神情：“他们怎么能让他参加那该死的比赛，他还年青着呢！我觉得要有个年龄的限制才行‘！她看了《先知日报》后大为光火，他竟向他的父母叫嚷！懊，老天保佑，我从来都不知道他的事。”
哈利已经受够了，他相信哈格力不会注意到他，因为有四只龙和玛西姆夫人占据他的视线，于是他静静地转身，默默地从城堡走开了。
预见到将要发生的事情，他不肯定自己以此是否高兴。也许这样更好。第一个震惊现在结束了。如果在星期二他是第一次见到那些龙，可能他会在全校面前放出寒气……但也可能会……他会佩上他的魔杖来对付一条五十英尺高，长满鳞片，被钉着的喷火龙，尽管魔杖刚才和一条细木锯并没什么两样。而他必须要通过这项考验。
在众目睽睽之下。该怎么做呢？
哈利加快了速度，沿着森林的边缘前进，只有不到15分钟了，他要赶回炉边和西里斯商量，这么急切地要与某个人谈话的感觉地从来都没有过。突然，一点预兆都没有，他撞上了一个非常坚硬的物体。
哈利被撞了回来，眼镜歪在一边，他紧抓着身上的斗篷。旁边响起一声，“哎哟，谁在那儿啊？”
哈利急忙检查斗篷是否还包着自己，他静静地躺着，盯着那个他撞到的巫师的黑黑的轮廓。他认出了那山羊胡子……那是卡克罗夫。
“谁在那儿啊？”卡克罗夫又喊了一声，疑惑地在黑暗中张望。哈利还是静静地，一声不吭。大约过了一分钟，卡克罗夫似乎认为他是撞上了某种动物，他看着四周齐腰高的地方，好像在找一只狗一样。
然后他又爬回到树丛下，开始向龙所在的地方徐徐前进。
慢慢地，小心翼翼地，哈利站了起来，又开始出发。他压低声量，以最快速度，穿过黑暗，向霍格瓦彻走去。
卡克罗夫要做的事，他可是知道得一清二楚。他曾经偷偷溜下船探听到他的第一项任务是什么。他甚至可能见到哈格力和玛西姆夫人一起在林子周围——在一定距离内要看到他们并不难……而现在卡克罗夫要做的只是跟着声音走，这样，像玛西姆夫人一样，他就能知道等待着选手们的将是什么了。从表面上看，对于星期二的考验还一无所知的就只有塞德里克。
哈利来到了城堡，从前门溜了过去，开始爬大理石的楼梯，他气都快喘不过来了，但还是不敢有丝毫的松懈……他只有不到5分钟的时间去赶到火边……
“废话！”他气喘嘘嘘地对那个在肖像洞上画中打盹的胖女人说。
“你说是就是吧，”她睡眼惺松地咕哝道，连眼睛也不睁开，画像向前晃开让他进去。哈利向里爬去。公共房间里没有人。从气味十分正常这一点来判断，荷术恩不必撒粪弹也没有人会偷听到他和西里斯的谈话。
哈利脱下隐身斗篷，一屁股坐到火前的扶椅中。房间里一片昏暗，火焰是唯一的光源。旁边，在桌上，那个克威一直试图利用的写着“支持塞德里克。迪格瑞”的徽章在火光中闪闪发亮。上边现在写的还是“波特恶臭熏天”。哈利回头朝火焰里一看，跳了起来。
西里斯的头正坐在火里。如果哈利没有在威斯里的厨房里见到迪格瑞先生这样做的话，他早已吓得神志不清了。相反，他的脸上绽开了这些天来的第一个笑容，他从椅子里跃起，伏在炉边，说：“西里斯，你好吗？”
西里斯看起来和哈利印像中的他不一样。在他们告别的时候，西里斯的脸显得憔碎骨瘦如柴，被一大把又长又黑，蓬乱的毛发包着——但现在毛发短而干净，西里斯的脸丰满了，看起来更年轻，更像那张相片，那是哈利保存的唯—一张他的照片，是在西里斯的婚礼上拍的。
“别管我，你怎么样？”西里斯一脸严肃地问。
“我——”有一秒，哈利想说“很好”——但他不能。在他缓过神来之前，他已经说了几天以来最多的话语——关于没人相信他不愿参加“三巫大赛，”关于理特。史姬特在《先知日报》上的谎言，关于……“
“如今，哈格力也已告诉我即将来临的第一个难题就是要对付龙，西里斯，现在我是在劫难逃了。”他绝望地说。
西里斯看着他，眼里满是关切，那双眼睛仍未失去阿兹克班赋予的那种神情，那种顽固的、挥之不去的神情，开始他任由哈利一个人说个不停，等到他沉静下来，他才说：“哈利，龙我们是能够应付的，但我们必须马上到达那里，我们不能在这儿呆太久……我先前闯进了一间施了魔法的房子去烤火，主人可能随时会回来，这里我想警告你几句。”
“什么？”哈利问他，霎时感到自己的精神更加滑向了低谷，诚然，没有什么比龙的到来更加可怕了？
西里斯接着说：“哈利，卡克罗夫简直是个食尸者，你知道什么是食尸者吧？”
“啊，他……什么？”
“他在阿兹克班和我一起被抓住了，但是现在他被释放了，我打赌丹伯多今年之所以需要沃罗在霍格瓦彻正是为了监视他，莫迪一抓到卡克罗夫，肯定首先把他送进阿兹克班。”
“卡克罗夫获释了？”哈利喃喃道。他在脑海中努力挣扎着去接受又～则令人震惊的消息。“为什么他们释放他？”
“他与魔力大臣打了一个赌，”西里斯痛苦地说：“他说他犯了一些错误，然后指出一大堆……最后他弄了一大雄人进阿兹克班去顶替他，在那儿他真是很不受欢迎，我可以告诉你这一点，并且，自从他出来后，他一直在对他那所混帐学校的每一位学生和教授充满仇恨，所以你也要当心选手。”
“好的，”哈利慢慢应声答道，“但是……你刚才是说卡克罗夫将我的名字写在了高脚杯里面，对吗？这样一来，如果他做到了，就不愧为一名好演员，他会装作大为光火的样子，实际上只是想阻止我去参加比赛。”
“我们知道他在玩把戏，”西里斯说，“因为他说服魔力大臣放了他，这还不够吗？如今，我一直关注着《先知日报》，你知道的罗，哈利——”
“你总是很关注其他的事情，”哈利痛苦地说。
“况且，从那个叫史姬特的女人上个月所写的文章来看，莫迪和霍格瓦彻出发的前一天晚上遭到了攻击。当然，我知道她称那是一个错误的警告，”西里斯急促地说，生怕哈利插进话来，“但是我不这样认为，我觉得一定是有人试图阻止他到达霍格瓦彻，我认为一定是有人感到有他在，他们的困难就越大，所以才这么做。现在没人愿意去深入调查这件事，魔眼听到太多这样的事情了。但是那并非意味着他不能发现事情的真相，莫迪毕竟是大臣所拥有的最棒的勇士。
“那么，你是要说什么呢？”哈利慢慢地说，“卡克罗夫想杀我吗？
但是……为什么呢？“
西里斯有点犹豫。
“我听到一些很奇怪的事情，”他喃喃道，“最近较以往活跃了许多，他们在快迪斯的世界杯发现了，不是吗？又有人放出了黑暗公爵的标记……到后来，你听说过魔法大臣那个秘书消失的事吗？”
“珀茜·佐金斯吗？”哈利问。
“正是，她在阿尔巴尼亚突然消失了，而那里据传正是福尔得摩特最后出现的地方，她一定是听说三巫师比赛出现才出的，不是吗？”
“对，但是她不可能直接去找福尔得摩特吧？”哈利自言自语道。
“听着，我了解珀茜·佐金斯，”西里斯一本正经地说。“那么，福尔得摩特本可以知道关于比赛的实情的，对吗？”哈利问，“你是这个意思吗？你认为卡克罗夫可能会照他的命令在这儿的吗？”
“不知道，”西里斯慢慢地说，“就是不知道……除非卡克罗夫知道福尔得摩特有足够的威力保护他，他才胆敢像福尔得库特那样打我的，但无论是谁把你的名字写在高脚杯上，都有个原因，我总是想比赛是个攻击你的好办法，并且可以让它看上去像场意外。”
“从我的观点看，看上去完全是早有预谋。”哈利郁郁地说，“他们只须往后站，让那些龙完成他们的任务。”
“对了——这些龙，”西里斯说的很快了，“有办法了，哈利，别上当去试一个眩晕符咒——龙过于强大，过于神奇，不会让一个出色的人打倒的，你一次需要半打左右的法术才可制服一条龙。”
“呀，我知道的，我明白了。”哈利说。
“但你自己可以胜任，”西里斯说。“有个法子，你只要一个咒语，只要——”
但哈利举起手不让他说，他的心跳得厉害，似乎要蹦出来了，他听到身后以螺旋梯上传下了脚步声。
“走！”他对西里斯沙沙说了声，“走！有人来了！”
哈利急忙站起来，藏了火——要是谁在霍格瓦彻墙内看到西里斯的脸，他们会发动一场浩劫——部里会卷入的——他自己会被拷问关于西里斯的行踪的——哈利听到身后火堆里“叭”的一声轻响，知道西里斯已经走了，他看着螺旋梯下边——谁在凌晨一点起来散步，拦住西里斯，不让他告诉打败龙的方法呢？
是罗恩穿着香芹睡衣，直对着哈利，环顾一下问：“刚才你在和谁说话？”
“关你什么事？”哈利吼道，“晚上这个时候你在这搞什么鬼？”
“我不过想知道你在——”罗恩止住了，耸耸肩，“不干什么，我要回去睡觉。”
“你想下来到处嗅嗅，对吗？”哈利大吼，他知道罗恩不明白他走进来干什么，知道罗恩并非有意这么做，但他不管——这时他对关于罗恩的一切东西，直到他睡裤下赤裸的脚踝下几寸的东西，都恨之入骨。
“对不起。”罗恩说，他的脸因怒气而胀红了，“没料到你不想被打扰，我会让你安静地为下一个面试继续练习的。”
哈利从桌上抓过一个写着“波特恶臭熏天”的徽章，狠狠地尽力把它扔过屋子，击中罗恩的前额，弹开了。
“去你的吧！”哈利说，“那是给你在周日戴的，你现在甚至可能有个疤了，如果走运的话……那正是你想要的，对吗？”
他大步穿过屋子，走向楼梯，他有点想让罗恩拉住他，甚至想让罗恩打他一拳，但罗恩穿着睡衣站在那里，哈利在楼上大发雷霆后，躺在床上，很久了他也没有睡着，他没听到罗恩回到床上。
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