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

  “Over here,” said Harry, moving in front of Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. He couldn’t hear Crouch’s voice anymore, but he knew where he was going; it hadn’t been much past the Beauxbatons carriage… somewhere around here…

  “Viktor?” Harry shouted.

  No one answered.

  “They were here,” Harry said to Dumbledore. “They were definitely somewhere around here…”

  “Lumos,” Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up.

  Its narrow beam traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet.

  Harry and Dumbledore hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of his eyelids.

  “Stunned,” he said softly. His half moon glasses glittered in the wandlight as he peered around at the surrounding trees.

  “Should I go and get someone?” said Harry. “Madam Pomfrey?”

  “No,” said Dumbledore swiftly. “Stay here.”

  He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid’s cabin. Harry saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. Then Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, “Ennervate.”

  Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie still.

  “He attacked me!” Krum muttered, putting a hand up to his head. “The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!”

  “Lie still for a moment,” Dumbledore said.

  The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.

  “Professor Dumbledore!” he said, his eyes widening. “Harry—what the—?”

  “Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff,” said Dumbledore. “His student has been attacked. When you’ve done that, kindly alert Professor Moody—”

  “No need, Dumbledore,” said a wheezy growl. “I’m here.”

  Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit.

  “Damn leg,” he said furiously. “Would’ve been here quicker… what’s happened? Snape said something about Crouch—”

  “Crouch?” said Hagrid blankly.

  “Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!” said Dumbledore sharply.

  “Oh yeah… right y’are, Professor…” said Hagrid, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

  “I don’t know where Barty Crouch is,” Dumbledore told Moody, “but it is essential that we find him.”

  “I’m onto it,” growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest.

  Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke again until they heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked pale and agitated.

  “What is this?” he cried when he saw Krum on the ground and Dumbledore and Harry beside him. “What’s going on?”

  “I vos attacked!” said Krum, sitting up now and rubbing his head. “Mr. Crouch or votever his name—”

  “Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?”

  “Igor,” Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid.

  “Treachery!” he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. “It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences—here’s what I think of you!”

  Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore’s feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff’s furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

  “Apologize!” Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid’s massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

  “Hagrid, no!” Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.

  Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

  “Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore sharply.

  Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look.

  “Maybe I’d better stay here, Headmaster…”

  “You will take Harry back to school, Hagrid,” Dumbledore repeated firmly. “Take him right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry—I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do—any owls you might want to send—they can wait until morning, do you understand me?”

  “Er—yes,” said Harry, staring at him. How had Dumbledore known that, at that very moment, he had been thinking about sending Pigwidgeon straight to Sirius, to tell him what had happened?

  “I’ll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster,” Hagrid said, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still sprawled at the foot of the tree, tangled in furs and tree roots. “Stay, Fang. C’mon, Harry.”

  They marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and up toward the castle.

  “How dare he,” Hagrid growled as they strode past the lake. “How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore’d do anythin’ like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you in the tournament in the firs’ place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he’s bin lately. An’ you!” Hagrid suddenly said angrily to Harry, who looked up at him, taken aback. “What were yeh doin’, wanderin’ off with ruddy Krum? He’s from Durmstrang, Harry! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn he? Hasn’ Moody taught yeh nothin’? ’Magine lettin him lure yeh off on yer own—”

  “Krum’s all right!” said Harry as they climbed the steps into the entrance hall. “He wasn’t trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione—”

  “I’ll be havin’ a few words with her, an’ all,” said Hagrid grimly, stomping up the stairs. “The less you lot ’ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh’ll be. Yeh can’ trust any of ’em.”

  “You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime,” Harry said, annoyed.

  “Don’ you talk ter me abou’ her!” said Hagrid, and he looked quite frightening for a moment. “I’ve got her number now! Tryin’ ter get back in me good books, tryin’ ter get me ter tell her what’s comin in the third task. Ha! You can’ trust any of ’em!”

  Hagrid was in such a bad mood, Harry was quite glad to say good-bye to him in front of the Fat Lady. He clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron and Hermione were sitting, to tell them what had happened.

  29. THE DREAM

  “It comes down to this,” said Hermione, rubbing her forehead. “Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor wasn’t looking.”

  “It must’ve been Crouch,” said Ron at once. “That’s why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He’d done a runner.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Harry, shaking his head. “He seemed really weak—I don’t reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything.”

  “You can’t Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, haven’t I told you enough times?” said Hermione.

  “Okay… how’s this for a theory,” said Ron excitedly. “Krum attacked Crouch—no, wait for it—and then Stunned himself!”

  “And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?” said Hermione coldly.

  “Oh yeah…”

  It was daybreak. Harry, Ron, and
Hermione had crept out of their dormitories very early and hurried up to the Owlery together to send a note to Sirius. Now they were standing looking out at the misty grounds. All three of them were puffy eyed and pale because they had been talking late into the night about Mr. Crouch.

  “Just go through it again, Harry,” said Hermione. “What did Mr. Crouch actually say?”

  “I’ve told you, he wasn’t making much sense,” said Harry. “He said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about something. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, and he seemed to think she was dead. He kept saying stuff was his fault… He mentioned his son.”

  “Well, that was his fault,” said Hermione testily.

  “He was out of his mind,” said Harry. “Half the time he seemed to think his wife and son were still alive, and he kept talking to Percy about work and giving him instructions.”

  “And… remind me what he said about You-Know-Who?” said Ron tentatively.

  “I’ve told you,” Harry repeated dully. “He said he’s getting stronger.”

  There was a pause. Then Ron said in a falsely confident voice, “But he was out of his mind, like you said, so half of it was probably just raving…”

  “He was sanest when he was trying to talk about Voldemort,” said Harry, and Ron winced at the sound of the name. “He was having real trouble stringing two words together, but that was when he seemed to know where he was, and know what he wanted to do. He just kept saying he had to see Dumbledore.”

  Harry turned away from the window and stared up into the rafters. The many perches were half empty; every now and then, another owl would swoop in through one of the windows, returning from its night’s hunting with a mouse in its beak.

  “If Snape hadn’t held me up,” Harry said bitterly, “we might’ve got there in time. ‘The headmaster is busy, Potter… what’s this rubbish, Potter?’ Why couldn’t he have just got out of the way?”

  “Maybe he didn’t want you to get there!” said Ron quickly. “Maybe—hang on—how fast d’you reckon he could’ve gotten down to the forest? D’you reckon he could’ve beaten you and Dumbledore there?”

  “Not unless he can turn himself into a bat or something,” said Harry.

  “Wouldn’t put it past him,” Ron muttered.

  “We need to see Professor Moody,” said Hermione. “We need to find out whether he found Mr. Crouch.”

  “If he had the Marauder’s Map on him, it would’ve been easy,” said Harry.

  “Unless Crouch was already outside the grounds,” said Ron, “because it only shows up to the boundaries, doesn’t—”

  “Shh!” said Hermione suddenly.

  Somebody was climbing the steps up to the Owlery. Harry could hear two voices arguing, coming closer and closer.

  “that’s blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that—”

  “we’ve tried being polite; it’s time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn’t like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did—”

  “I’m telling you, if you put that in writing, it’s blackmail!”

  “Yeah, and you won’t be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?”

  The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

  “What’re you doing here?” Ron and Fred said at the same time.

  “Sending a letter,” said Harry and George in unison.

  “What, at this time?” said Hermione and Fred.

  Fred grinned.

  “Fine—we won’t ask you what you’re doing, if you don’t ask us,” he said.

  He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Harry glanced at it, but Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.

  “Well, don’t let us hold you up,” Fred said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door.

  Ron didn’t move. “Who’re you blackmailing?” he said.

  The grin vanished from Fred’s face. Harry saw George half glance at Fred, before smiling at Ron.

  “Don’t be stupid, I was only joking,” he said easily.

  “Didn’t sound like that,” said Ron.

  Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said abruptly, “I’ve told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can’t see why you would, but—”

  “It’s my business if you’re blackmailing someone,” said Ron. “George’s right, you could end up in serious trouble for that.”

  “Told you, I was joking,” said George. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. “You’re starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you’ll be made a prefect.”

  “No, I won’t!” said Ron hotly.

  George carried the barn owl over to the window and it took off. George turned around and grinned at Ron.

  “Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you later.”

  He and Fred left the Owlery. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another.

  “You don’t think they know something about all this, do you?” Hermione whispered. “About Crouch and everything?”

  “No,” said Harry. “If it was something that serious, they’d tell someone. They’d tell Dumbledore.”

  Ron, however, was looking uncomfortable.

  “What’s the matter?” Hermione asked him.

  “Well…” said Ron slowly, “I dunno if they would. They’re… they’re obsessed with making money lately, I noticed it when I was hanging around with them—when—you know—”

  “We weren’t talking,” Harry finished the sentence for him. “Yeah, but blackmail…”

  “It’s this joke shop idea they’ve got,” said Ron. “I thought they were only saying it to annoy Mum, but they really mean it, they want to start one. They’ve only got a year left at Hogwarts, they keep going on about how it’s time to think about their future, and Dad can’t help them, and they need gold to get started.”

  Hermione was looking uncomfortable now.

  “Yes, but… they wouldn’t do anything against the law to get gold.”

  “Wouldn’t they?” said Ron, looking skeptical. “I dunno… they don’t exactly mind breaking rules, do they?”

  “Yes, but this is the law,” said Hermione, looking scared. “This isn’t some silly school rule… They’ll get a lot more than detention for blackmail! Ron… maybe you’d better tell Percy…”

  “Are you mad?” said Ron. “Tell Percy? He’d probably do a Crouch and turn them in.” He stared at the window through which Fred and George’s owl had departed, then said, “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

  “D’you think it’s too early to go and see Professor Moody?” Hermione said as they went down the spiral staircase.

  “Yes,” said Harry. “He’d probably blast us through the door if we wake him at the crack of dawn; he’ll think we’re trying to attack him while he’s asleep. Let’s give it till break.”

  History of Magic had rarely gone so slowly. Harry kept checking Ron’s watch, having finally discarded his own, but Ron’s was moving so slowly he could have sworn it had stopped working too. All three of them were so tired they could happily have put their heads down on the desks and slept; even Hermione wasn’t taking her usual notes, but was sitting with her head on her hand, gazing at Professor Binns with her eyes out of focus.

  When the bell finally rang, they hurried out into the corridors toward the Dark Arts classroom and found Professor Moody leaving it. He looked as tired as they felt. The eyelid of his normal eye was drooping, giving his face an even more lopsided appearance than usual.

  “Professor Moody?” Harry called as they made their way toward him through the crowd.

  “Hello, Potter,” growled Moody. His magical eye followed a couple of passing first years, who sped up, looking nervous; it rolled into the back of Moody’s head and watched them around the corner
before he spoke again.

  “Come in here.”

  He stood back to let them into his empty classroom, limped in after them, and closed the door.

  “Did you find him?” Harry asked without preamble. “Mr. Crouch?”

  “No,” said Moody. He moved over to his desk, sat down, stretched out his wooden leg with a slight groan, and pulled out his hip flask.

  “Did you use the map?” Harry said.

  “Of course,” said Moody, taking a swig from his flask. “Took a leaf out of your book, Potter. Summoned it from my office into the forest. He wasn’t anywhere on there.”

  “So he did Disapparate?” said Ron.

  “You can’t Disapparate on the grounds, Ron!” said Hermione. “There are other ways he could have disappeared, aren’t there, Professor?”

  Moody’s magical eye quivered as it rested on Hermione. “You’re another one who might think about a career as an Auror,” he told her. “Mind works the right way, Granger.”

  Hermione flushed pink with pleasure.

  “Well, he wasn’t invisible,” said Harry. “The map shows invisible people. He must’ve left the grounds, then.”

  “But under his own steam?” said Hermione eagerly, “or because someone made him?”

  “Yeah, someone could’ve—could’ve pulled him onto a broom and flown off with him, couldn’t they?” said Ron quickly, looking hopefully at Moody as if he too wanted to be told he had the makings of an Auror.

  “We can’t rule out kidnap,” growled Moody.

  “So,” said Ron, “d’you reckon he’s somewhere in Hogsmeade?”

  “Could be anywhere,” said Moody, shaking his head. “Only thing we know for sure is that he’s not here.”

  He yawned widely, so that his scars stretched, and his lopsided mouth revealed a number of missing teeth. Then he said, “Now, Dumbledore’s told me you three fancy yourselves as investigators, but there’s nothing you can do for Crouch. The Ministry’ll be looking for him now, Dumbledore’s notified them. Potter, you just keep your mind on the third task.”

  “What?” said Harry. “Oh yeah…”

  He hadn’t given the maze a single thought since he’d left it with Krum the previous night.