Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire hp-4 Read online

  “Talking about breathing in front of me!” she said shrilly, and her voice echoed loudly around the bathroom. “When I can’t… when I haven’t… not for ages…”

  She buried her face in her handkerchief and sniffed loudly. Harry remembered how touchy Myrtle had always been about being dead, but none of the other ghosts he knew made such a fuss about it.

  “Sorry,” he said impatiently. “I didn’t mean—I just forgot…”

  “Oh yes, very easy to forget Myrtle’s dead,” said Myrtle, gulping, looking at him out of swollen eyes. “Nobody missed me even when I was alive. Took them hours and hours to find my body—I know, I was sitting there waiting for them. Olive Hornby came into the bathroom—‘Are you in here again, sulking, Myrtle?’ she said, ‘because Professor Dippet asked me to look for you—’ And then she saw my body… ooooh, she didn’t forget it until her dying day, I made sure of that… followed her around and reminded her, I did. I remember at her brother’s wedding—”

  But Harry wasn’t listening; he was thinking about the merpeople’s song again. “We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss.” That sounded as though they were going to steal something of his, something he had to get back. What were they going to take?

  “—and then, of course, she went to the Ministry of Magic to stop me stalking her, so I had to come back here and live in my toilet.”

  “Good,” said Harry vaguely. “Well, I’m a lot further on than I was… Shut your eyes again, will you? I’m getting out.”

  He retrieved the egg from the bottom of the bath, climbed out, dried himself, and pulled on his pajamas and dressing gown again.

  “Will you come and visit me in my bathroom again sometime?” Moaning Myrtle asked mournfully as Harry picked up the Invisibility Cloak.

  “Er… I’ll try,” Harry said, though privately thinking the only way he’d be visiting Myrtle’s bathroom again was if every other toilet in the castle got blocked. “See you, Myrtle… thanks for your help.”

  “’Bye, ’bye,” she said gloomily, and as Harry put on the Invisibllity Cloak he saw her zoom back up the tap.

  Out in the dark corridor, Harry examined the Marauder’s Map to check that the coast was still clear. Yes, the dots belonging to Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, were safely in their office… nothing else seemed to be moving apart from Peeves, though he was bouncing around the trophy room on the floor above… Harry had taken his first step back toward Gryffindor Tower when something else on the map caught his eye… something distinctly odd.

  Peeves was not the only thing that was moving. A single dot was flitting around a room in the bottom left hand corner—Snape’s office. But the dot wasn’t labeled “Severus Snape”… it was Bartemius Crouch.

  Harry stared at the dot. Mr. Crouch was supposed to be too ill to go to work or to come to the Yule Ball—so what was he doing, sneaking into Hogwarts at one o’clock in the morning? Harry watched closely as the dot moved around and around the room, pausing here and there…

  Harry hesitated, thinking… and then his curiosity got the better of him. He turned and set off in the opposite direction toward the nearest staircase. He was going to see what Crouch was up to.

  Harry walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, though the faces in some of the portraits still turned curiously at the squeak of a floorboard, the rustle of his pajamas. He crept along the corridor below, pushed aside a tapestry about halfway along, and proceeded down a narrower staircase, a shortcut that would take him down two floors. He kept glancing down at the map, wondering… It just didn’t seem in character, somehow, for correct, law abiding Mr. Crouch to be sneaking around somebody else’s office this late at night…

  And then, halfway down the staircase, not thinking about what he was doing, not concentrating on anything but the peculiar behavior of Mr. Crouch, Harry’s leg suddenly sank right through the trick step Neville always forgot to jump. He gave an ungainly wobble, and the golden egg, still damp from the bath, slipped from under his arm. He lurched forward to try and catch it, but too late; the egg fell down the long staircase with a bang as loud as a bass drum on every step—the Invisibility Cloak slipped—Harry snatched at it, and the Marauder’s Map fluttered out of his hand and slid down six stairs, where, sunk in the step to above his knee, he couldn’t reach it.

  The golden egg fell through the tapestry at the bottom of the staircase, burst open, and began wailing loudly in the corridor below. Harry pulled out his wand and struggled to touch the Marauder’s Map, to wipe it blank, but it was too far away to reach—

  Pulling the cloak back over himself Harry straightened up, listening hard with his eyes screwed up with fear… and, almost immediately—

  “PEEVES!”

  It was the unmistakable hunting cry of Filch the caretaker. Harry could hear his rapid, shuffling footsteps coming nearer and nearer, his wheezy voice raised in fury.

  “What’s this racket? Wake up the whole castle, will you? I’ll have you, Peeves, I’ll have you, you’ll… and what is this?”

  Filch’s footsteps halted; there was a clink of metal on metal and the wailing stopped—Filch had picked up the egg and closed it. Harry stood very still, one leg still jammed tightly in the magical step, listening. Any moment now, Filch was going to pull aside the tapestry, expecting to see Peeves… and there would be no Peeves… but if he came up the stairs, he would spot the Marauder’s Map… and Invisibility Cloak or not, the map would show “Harry Potter” standing exactly where he was.

  “Egg?” Filch said quietly at the foot of the stairs. “My sweet!”—Mrs. Norris was obviously with him—“This is a Triwizard clue! This belongs to a school champion!”

  Harry felt sick; his heart was hammering very fast—

  “PEEVES!” Filch roared gleefully. “You’ve been stealing!”

  He ripped back the tapestry below, and Harry saw his horrible, pouchy face and bulging, pale eyes staring up the dark and (to Filch) deserted staircase.

  “Hiding, are you?” he said softly. “I’m coming to get you, Peeves… You’ve gone and stolen a Triwizard clue, Peeves… Dumbledore’ll have you out of here for this, you filthy, pilfering poltergeist…”

  Filch started to climb the stairs, his scrawny, dust colored cat at his heels. Mrs. Morris’s lamp like eyes, so very like her masters, were fixed directly upon Harry. He had had occasion before now to wonder whether the Invisibility Cloak worked on cats… Sick with apprehension, he watched Filch drawing nearer and nearer in his old flannel dressing gown—he tried desperately to pull his trapped leg free, but it merely sank a few more inches—any second now, Filch was going to spot the map or walk right into him—

  “Filch? What’s going on?”

  Filch stopped a few steps below Harry and turned. At the foot of the stairs stood the only person who could make Harry’s situation worse: Snape. He was wearing a long gray nightshirt and he looked livid.

  “It’s Peeves, Professor,” Filch whispered malevolently. “He threw this egg down the stairs.”

  Snape climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Filch. Harry gritted his teeth, convinced his loudly thumping heart would give him away at any second…

  “Peeves?” said Snape softly, staring at the egg in Filch’s hands. “But Peeves couldn’t get into my office…”

  “This egg was in your office, Professor?”

  “Of course not,” Snape snapped. “I heard banging and wailing—”

  “Yes, Professor, that was the egg—”

  “—I was coming to investigate—”

  “—Peeves threw it, Professor—”

  “—and when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! Somebody has been searching it!”

  “But Peeves couldn’t—”

  “I know he couldn’t, Filch!” Snape snapped again. “I seal my office with a spell none but a wizard could break!” Snape looked up the stairs, straight through Harry, and then down into the corridor below. “I want you to come and help
me search for the intruder, Filch.”

  “I—yes, Professor—but—”

  Filch looked yearningly up the stairs, right through Harry, who could see that he was very reluctant to forgo the chance of cornering Peeves. Go, Harry pleaded with him silently, go with Snape… go… Mrs. Norris was peering around Filch’s legs… Harry had the distinct impression that she could smell him… Why had he filled that bath with so much perfumed foam?

  “The thing is, Professor,” said Filch plaintively, “the headmaster will have to listen to me this time. Peeves has been stealing from a student, it might be my chance to get him thrown out of the castle once and for all—”

  “Filch, I don’t give a damn about that wretched poltergeist; it’s my office that’s—”

  Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

  Snape stopped talking very abruptly. He and Filch both looked down at the foot of the stairs. Harry saw Mad-Eye Moody limp into sight through the narrow gap between their heads. Moody was wearing his old traveling cloak over his nightshirt and leaning on his staff as usual.

  “Pajama party, is it?” he growled up the stairs.

  “Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor,” said Filch at once. “Peeves the Poltergeist, throwing things around as usual—and then Professor Snape discovered that someone had broken into his off—”

  “Shut up!” Snape hissed to Filch.

  Moody took a step closer to the foot of the stairs. Harry saw Moody’s magical eye travel over Snape, and then, unmistakably, onto himself.

  Harry’s heart gave a horrible jolt. Moody could see through Invisibility Cloaks… he alone could see the full strangeness of the scene: Snape in his nightshirt, Filch clutching the egg, and he, Harry, trapped in the stairs behind them. Moody’s lopsided gash of a mouth opened in surprise. For a few seconds, he and Harry stared straight into each other’s eyes. Then Moody closed his mouth and turned his blue eye upon Snape again.

  “Did I hear that correctly, Snape?” he asked slowly. “Someone broke into your office?”

  “It is unimportant,” said Snape coldly.

  “On the contrary,” growled Moody, “it is very important. Who’d want to break into your office?”

  “A student, I daresay,” said Snape. Harry could see a vein flickering horribly on Snape’s greasy temple. “It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store cupboard… students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt…”

  “Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?” said Moody. “Not hiding anything else in your office, are you?”

  Harry saw the edge of Snape’s sallow face turn a nasty brick color, the vein in his temple pulsing more rapidly.

  “You know I’m hiding nothing, Moody,” he said in a soft and dangerous voice, “as you’ve searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself.”

  Moody’s face twisted into a smile. “Auror’s privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye—”

  “Dumbledore happens to trust me,” said Snape through clenched teeth. “I refuse to believe that he gave you orders to search my office!”

  “’Course Dumbledore trusts you,” growled Moody. “Hes a trusting man, isn’t he? Believes in second chances. But me—I say there are spots that don’t come off, Snape. Spots that never come off, d’you know what I mean?”

  Snape suddenly did something very strange. He seized his left forearm convulsively with his right hand, as though something on it had hurt him.

  Moody laughed. “Get back to bed, Snape.”

  “You don’t have the authority to send me anywhere!” Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as though angry with himself. “I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!”

  “Prowl away,” said Moody, but his voice was full of menace. “I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some time… You’ve dropped something, by the way…”

  With a stab of horror, Harry saw Moody point at the Marauder’s Map, still lying on the staircase six steps below him. As Snape and Filch both turned to look at it, Harry threw caution to the winds; he raised his arms under the cloak and waved furiously at Moody to attract his attention, mouthing “It’s mine! Mine!”

  Snape had reached out for it, a horrible expression of dawning comprehension on his face—

  “Accio Parchment!”

  The map flew up into the air, slipped through Snape’s outstretched fingers, and soared down the stairs into Moody’s hand.

  “My mistake,” Moody said calmly. “It’s mine—must’ve dropped it earlier—”

  But Snape’s black eyes were darting from the egg in Filch’s arms to the map in Moody’s hand, and Harry could tell he was putting two and two together, as only Snape could…

  “Potter,” he said quietly.

  “What’s that?” said Moody calmly, folding up the map and pocketing it.

  “Potter!” Snape snarled, and he actually turned his head and stared right at the place where Harry was, as though he could suddenly see him. “That egg is Potter’s egg. That piece of parchment belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility Cloak!”

  Snape stretched out his hands like a blind man and began to move up the stairs; Harry could have sworn his over large nostrils were dilating, trying to sniff Harry out—trapped. Harry leaned backward, trying to avoid Snape’s fingertips, but any moment now—

  “There’s nothing there, Snape!” barked Moody, “but I’ll be happy to tell the headmaster how quickly your mind jumped to Harry Potter!”

  “Meaning what?” Snape turned again to look at Moody, his hands still outstretched, inches from Harry’s chest.

  “Meaning that Dumbledore’s very interested to know who’s got it in for that boy!” said Moody, limping nearer still to the foot of the stairs. “And so am I, Snape… very interested…” The torchlight flickered across his mangled face, so that the scars, and the chunk missing from his nose, looked deeper and darker than ever.

  Snape was looking down at Moody, and Harry couldn’t see the expression on his face. For a moment, nobody moved or said anything. Then Snape slowly lowered his hands.

  “I merely thought,” said Snape, in a voice of forced calm, “that if Potter was wandering around after hours again… it’s an unfortunate habit of his… he should be stopped. For—for his own safety.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Moody softly. “Got Potter’s best interests at heart, have you?”

  There was a pause. Snape and Moody were still staring at each other, Mrs. Norris gave a loud meow, still peering around Filch’s legs, looking for the source of Harry’s bubble bath smell.

  “I think I will go back to bed,” Snape said curtly.

  “Best idea you’ve had all night,” said Moody. “Now, Filch, if you’ll just give me that egg—”

  “No!” said Filch, clutching the egg as though it were his firstborn son. “Professor Moody, this is evidence of Peeves’ treachery!”

  “It’s the property of the champion he stole it from,” said Moody. “Hand it over, now.”

  Snape swept downstairs and passed Moody without another word. Filch made a chirruping noise to Mrs. Norris, who stared blankly at Harry for a few more seconds before turning and following her master. Still breathing very fast, Harry heard Snape walking away down the corridor; Filch handed Moody the egg and disappeared from view too, muttering to Mrs. Norris, “Never mind, my sweet… we’ll see Dumbledore in the morning… tell him what Peeves was up to…”

  A door slammed. Harry was left staring down at Moody, who placed his staff on the bottommost stair and started to climb laboriously toward him, a dull clunk on every other step.

  “Close shave, Potter,” he muttered.

  “Yeah… I—er… thanks,” said Harry weakly.

  “What is this thing?” said Moody, drawing the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket and unfolding it.

  “Map of Hogwarts,” said Harry, hoping Moody was going to pull him out of the staircase soon; his leg was
really hurting him.

  “Merlin’s beard,” Moody whispered, staring at the map, his magical eye going haywire. “This… this is some map, Potter!”

  “Yeah, it’s… quite useful,” Harry said. His eyes were starting to water from the pain. “Er—Professor Moody, d’you think you could help me—?”

  “What? Oh! Yes… yes, of course…”

  Moody took hold of Harry’s arms and pulled; Harry’s leg came free of the trick step, and he climbed onto the one above it. Moody was still gazing at the map.

  “Potter…” he said slowly, “you didn’t happen, by any chance, to see who broke into Snape’s office, did you? On this map, I mean?”

  “Er… yeah, I did…” Harry admitted. “It was Mr. Crouch.”

  Moody’s magical eye whizzed over the entire surface of the map. He looked suddenly alarmed.

  “Crouch?” he said. “You’re—you’re sure, Potter?”

  “Positive,” said Harry.

  “Well, he’s not here anymore,” said Moody, his eye still whizzing over the map. “Crouch… that’s very—very interesting…”

  He said nothing for almost a minute, still staring at the map. Harry could tell that this news meant something to Moody and very much wanted to know what it was. He wondered whether he dared ask. Moody scared him slightly… yet Moody had just helped him avoid an awful lot of trouble…

  “Er… Professor Moody… why d’you reckon Mr. Crouch wanted to look around Snape’s office?”

  Moody’s magical eye left the map and fixed, quivering, upon Harry. It was a penetrating glare, and Harry had the impression that Moody was sizing him up, wondering whether to answer or not, or how much to tell him.

  “Put it this way, Potter,” Moody muttered finally, “they say old Mad-Eye’s obsessed with catching Dark wizards… but I’m nothing—nothing—compared to Barty Crouch.”

  He continued to stare at the map. Harry was burning to know more.

  “Professor Moody?” he said again. “D’you think… could this have anything to do with… maybe Mr. Crouch thinks there’s something going on…”

  “Like what?” said Moody sharply.

  Harry wondered how much he dare say. He didn’t want Moody to guess that he had a source of information outside Hogwarts; that might lead to tricky questions about Sirius.