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

  But then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly over his head. Harry looked up and saw Cedric swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around his head, which made his features look oddly wide and stretched.

  “Got lost!” he mouthed, looking panic stricken. “Fleur and Krum’re coming now!”

  Feeling enormously relieved, Harry watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight.

  Harry looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour…

  The merpeople started screeching animatedly. Those holding Harry loosened their grip, staring behind them. Harry turned and saw something monstrous cutting through the water toward them: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark… It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself—but badly.

  The shark man swam straight to Hermione and began snapping and biting at her ropes; the trouble was that Krum’s new teeth were positioned very awkwardly for biting anything smaller than a dolphin, and Harry was quite sure that if Krum wasn’t careful, he was going to rip Hermione in half. Darting forward, Harry hit Krum hard on the shoulder and held up the jagged stone. Krum seized it and began to cut Hermione free. Within seconds, he had done it; he grabbed Hermione around the waist, and without a backward glance, began to rise rapidly with her toward the surface.

  Now what? Harry thought desperately. If he could be sure that Fleur was coming… But still no sign. There was nothing to be done except…

  He snatched up the stone, which Krum had dropped, but the mermen now closed in around Ron and the little girl, shaking their heads at him. Harry pulled out his wand.

  “Get out of the way!”

  Only bubbles flew out of his mouth, but he had the distinct impression that the mermen had understood him, because they suddenly stopped laughing. Their yellowish eyes were fixed upon Harry’s wand, and they looked scared. There might be a lot more of them than there were of him, but Harry could tell, by the looks on their faces, that they knew no more magic than the giant squid did.

  “You’ve got until three!” Harry shouted; a great stream of bubbles burst from him, but he held up three fingers to make sure they got the message. “One…” (he put down a finger) “two…” (he put down a second one)—

  They scattered. Harry darted forward and began to hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, and at last she was free. He seized the little girl around the waist, grabbed the neck of Ron’s robes, and kicked off from the bottom.

  It was very slow work. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously, but Ron and Fleur’s sister were like potato filled sacks dragging him back down… He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark…

  Merpeople were rising with him. He could see them swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle through the water… Would they pull him back down to the depths when the time was up? Did they perhaps eat humans? Harry’s legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of dragging Ron and the girl…

  He was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again… he was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in his mouth… yet the darkness was definitely thinning now… he could see daylight above him…

  He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet… water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs… he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only ten feet above him… he had to get there… he had to…

  Harry kicked his legs so hard and fast it felt as though his muscles were screaming in protest; his very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn’t breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not stop—

  And then he felt his head break the surface of the lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he had never breathed properly before, and, panting, pulled Ron and the little girl up with him. All around him, wild, green haired heads were emerging out of the water with him, but they were smiling at him.

  The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet; Harry had the impression they thought that Ron and the little girl might be dead, but they were wrong… both of them had opened their eyes; the girl looked scared and confused, but Ron merely expelled a great spout of water, blinked in the bright light, turned to Harry, and said, “Wet, this, isn’t it?” Then he spotted Fleur’s sister. “What did you bring her for?”

  “Fleur didn’t turn up, I couldn’t leave her,” Harry panted.

  “Harry, you prat,” said Ron, “you didn’t take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn’t have let any of us drown!”

  “The song said—”

  “It was only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!” said Ron. “I hope you didn’t waste time down there acting the hero!”

  Harry felt both stupid and annoyed. It was all very well for Ron; he’d been asleep, he hadn’t felt how eerie it was down in the lake, surrounded by spear carrying merpeople who’d looked more than capable of murder.

  “C’mon,” Harry said shortly, “help me with her, I don’t think she can swim very well.”

  They pulled Fleur’s sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honor, singing their horrible screechy songs.

  Harry could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets.

  Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Ron from the bank as they swam nearer, but Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, came splashing out to meet them. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

  “Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ’urt?”

  “She’s fine!” Harry tried to tell her, but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout.

  Percy seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank (“Gerroff, Percy, I’m all right!”); Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright; Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister.

  “It was ze Grindylows… zey attacked me… oh Gabrielle, I thought… I thought…”

  “Come here, you,” said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Harry and pulled him over to Hermione and the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket that he felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat. Steam gushed out of his ears.

  “Harry, well done!” Hermione cried. “You did it, you found out how all by yourself!”

  “Well—” said Harry. He would have told her about Dobby, but he had just noticed Karkaroff watching him. He was the only judge who had not left the table; the only judge not showing signs of pleasure and relief that Harry, Ron, and Fleur’s sister had got back safely. “Yeah, that’s right,” said Harry, raising his voice slightly so that Karkaroff could hear him.

  “You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm own ninny,” said Krum. Harry had the impression that Krum was drawing her attention back onto himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the lake, but Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, “You’re well outside the time limit, though, Harry… Did it take you ages to find us?”

  “No… I found you okay…”

  Harry’s feeling of stupidity was growing. Now he was out of the water, it seemed perfectly clear that Dumbledore’s safety precautions wouldn’t have permitted the death of a hostage just because their champion hadn’t turned up. Why hadn’t he just grabbed Ron and gone? He would have been first back… Cedric and Krum hadn’t wasted time worryi
ng about anyone else; they hadn’t taken the mersong seriously…

  Dumbledore was crouching at the water’s edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, “A conference before we give the marks, I think.”

  The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy’s clutches; she led him over to Harry and the others, gave him a blanket and some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn’t seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

  “Look after Gabrielle,” she told her, and then she turned to Harry. “You saved ’er,” she said breathlessly. “Even though she was not your ’ostage.”

  “Yeah,” said Harry, who was now heartily wishing he’d left all three girls tied to the statue.

  Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek (he felt his face burn and wouldn’t have been surprised if steam was coming out of his ears again), then said to Ron, “And you too—you ’elped—”

  “Yeah,” said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, “yeah, a bit—”

  Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Hermione looked simply furious, but just then, Ludo Bagman’s magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…

  “Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble Head Charm, was attacked by Grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty five points.”

  Applause from the stands.

  “I deserved zero,” said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head.

  “Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. “We therefore award him forty seven points.”

  Harry’s heart sank. If Cedric had been outside the time limit, he most certainly had been.

  “Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.” Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

  “Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own.”

  Ron and Hermione both gave Harry half exasperated, half commiserating looks.

  “Most of the judges,” and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However… Mr. Potter’s score is forty five points.”

  Harry’s stomach leapt—he was now tying for first place with Cedric. Ron and Hermione, caught by surprise, stared at Harry, then laughed and started applauding hard with the rest of the crowd.

  “There you go, Harry!” Ron shouted over the noise. “You weren’t being thick after all—you were showing moral fiber!”

  Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn’t look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering Harry to listen.

  “The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.”

  It was over, Harry thought dazedly, as Madam Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes… it was over, he had got through… he didn’t have to worry about anything now until June the twenty fourth…

  Next time he was in Hogsmeade, Harry decided as he walked back up the stone steps into the castle, he was going to buy Dobby a pair of socks for every day of the year.

  27. PADFOOT RETURNS

  One of the best things about the aftermath of the second task was that everybody was very keen to hear details of what had happened down in the lake, which meant that Ron was getting to share Harry’s limelight for once. Harry noticed that Ron’s version of events changed subtly with every retelling. At first, he gave what seemed to be the truth; it tallied with Hermione’s story, anyway—Dumbledore had put all the hostages into a bewitched sleep in Professor McGonagall’s office, first assuring them that they would be quite safe, and would awake when they were back above the water. One week later, however, Ron was telling a thrilling tale of kidnap in which he struggled single handedly against fifty heavily armed merpeople who had to beat him into submission before tying him up.

  “But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve,” he assured Padma Patil, who seemed to be a lot keener on Ron now that he was getting so much attention and was making a point of talking to him every time they passed in the corridors. “I could’ve taken those mer idiots any time I wanted.”

  “What were you going to do, snore at them?” said Hermione waspishly. People had been teasing her so much about being the thing that Viktor Krum would most miss that she was in a rather tetchy mood.

  Ron’s ears went red, and thereafter, he reverted to the bewitched sleep version of events.

  As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. The brown owl that Harry had sent to Sirius with the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend turned up at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers sticking up the wrong way; Harry had no sooner torn off Sirius’s reply than it took flight, clearly afraid it was going to be sent outside again.

  Sirius’s letter was almost as short as the previous one.

  Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.

  “He hasn’t come back to Hogsmeade?” said Ron incredulously.

  “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” said Hermione.

  “I can’t believe him,” said Harry tensely, “if he’s caught…”

  “Made it so far, though, hasn’t he?” said Ron. “And it’s not like the place is swarming with Dementors anymore.”

  Harry folded up the letter, thinking. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted to see Sirius again. He therefore approached the final lesson of the afternoon—double Potions—feeling considerably more cheerful than he usually did when descending the steps to the dungeons.

  Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in a huddle outside the classroom door with Pansy Parkinson’s gang of Slytherin girls. All of them were looking at something Harry couldn’t see and sniggering heartily. Pansy’s pug like face peered excitedly around Goyle’s broad back as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached.

  “There they are, there they are!” she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. Harry saw that Pansy had a magazine in her hands—Witch Weekly. The moving picture on the front showed a curly haired witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large sponge cake with her wand.

  “You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!” Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside.

  Hermione, Harry, and Ron headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned h
is back on them to write up the ingredients of todays potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the center pages, Hermione found what they were looking for. Harry and Ron leaned in closer. A color photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled:

  HARRY POTTER’S SECRET HEARTACHE

  A boy like no other, perhaps—yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen year old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

  Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys’ affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has “never felt this way about any other girl.”

  However, it might not be Miss Granger’s doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys’ interest.

  “She’s really ugly,” says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth year student, “but she’d be well up to making a Love Potion, she’s quite brainy. I think that’s how she’s doing it.”

  Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter’s well wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.

  “I told you!” Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared down at the article. “I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She’s made you out to be some sort of—of scarlet woman!”