The Goblet of Fire Page 18

  ‘I’ve got two Neptunes here,’ said Harry after a while, frowning down at his piece of parchment, ‘that can’t be right, can it?’

  ‘Aaaaah,’ said Ron, imitating Professor Trelawney’s mystical whisper, ‘when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry …’

  Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals from Lavender Brown – ‘Oh, Professor, look! I think I’ve got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one’s that, Professor?’

  ‘It is Uranus, my dear,’ said Professor Trelawney, peering down at the chart.

  ‘Can I have a look at Uranus, too, Lavender?’ said Ron.

  Most unfortunately, Professor Trelawney heard him, and it was this, perhaps, which made her give them so much homework at the end of the class.

  ‘A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart,’ she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual airy-fairy self. ‘I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!’

  ‘Miserable old bat,’ said Ron bitterly, as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. ‘That’ll take all weekend, that will …’

  ‘Lots of homework?’ said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. ‘Professor Vector didn’t give us any at all!’

  ‘Well, bully for Professor Vector,’ said Ron moodily.

  They reached the Entrance Hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

  ‘Weasley! Hey, Weasley!’

  Harry, Ron and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

  ‘What?’ said Ron shortly.

  ‘Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!’ said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet, and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed Entrance Hall could hear. ‘Listen to this!’

  FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

  It seems as though the Ministry of Magic’s troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

  Malfoy looked up.

  ‘Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley, it’s almost as though he’s a complete nonentity, isn’t it?’ he crowed.

  Everyone in the Entrance Hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish, and read on:

  Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved with a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers (‘policemen’) over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr Moody’s heavily guarded house, that Mr Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

  ‘And there’s a picture, Weasley!’ said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. ‘A picture of your parents outside their house – if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn’t she?’

  Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

  ‘Get stuffed, Malfoy,’ said Harry. ‘C’mon, Ron …’

  ‘Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?’ sneered Malfoy. ‘So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?’

  ‘You know your mother, Malfoy?’ said Harry – both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him launching himself at Malfoy – ‘That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?’

  Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink. ‘Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.’

  ‘Keep your fat mouth shut, then,’ said Harry, turning away.

  BANG!

  Several people screamed – Harry felt something white hot graze the side of his face – he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he’d even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar which echoed through the Entrance Hall.

  ‘OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!’

  Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

  There was a terrified silence in the Entrance Hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry – at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

  ‘Did he get you?’ Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.

  ‘No,’ said Harry, ‘missed.’

  ‘LEAVE IT!’ Moody shouted.

  ‘Leave – what?’ Harry said, bewildered.

  ‘Not you – him!’ Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody’s rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

  Moody started to limp towards Crabbe, Goyle and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking towards the dungeons.

  ‘I don’t think so!’ roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again – it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upwards once more.

  ‘I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,’ growled Moody, as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. ‘Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do …’

  The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

  ‘Never – do – that – again –’ said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upwards again.

  ‘Professor Moody!’ said a shocked voice.

  Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

  ‘Hello, Professor McGonagall,’ said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

  ‘What – what are you doing?’ said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.

  ‘Teaching,’ said Moody.

  ‘Teach– Moody, is that a student?’ shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

  ‘Yep,’ said Moody.

  ‘No!’ cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

  ‘Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!’ said Professor McGonagall weakly. ‘Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?’

  ‘He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,’ said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, ‘but I thought a good sharp shock –’

  ‘We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of house!’

  ‘I’ll do that, then,’ said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

  Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words ‘my father’ were distinguishable.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk o
f his wooden leg echoing around the hall. ‘Well, I know your father of old, boy … you tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son … you tell him that from me … now, your Head of house’ll be Snape, will it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Malfoy resentfully.

  ‘Another old friend,’ growled Moody. ‘I’ve been looking forward to a chat with old Snape … come on, you …’ And he seized Malfoy’s upper arm and marched him off towards the dungeons.

  Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

  ‘Don’t talk to me,’ Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

  ‘Why not?’ said Hermione in surprise.

  ‘Because I want to fix that in my memory for ever,’ said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. ‘Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret …’

  Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.

  ‘He could have really hurt Malfoy, though,’ she said. ‘It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it –’

  ‘Hermione!’ said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again. ‘You’re ruining the best moment of my life!’

  Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re going back to the library this evening?’ said Harry, watching her.

  ‘Got to,’ said Hermione thickly. ‘Loads to do.’

  ‘But you told us Professor Vector –’

  ‘It’s not schoolwork,’ she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed.

  No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley. ‘Moody!’ he said. ‘How cool is he?’

  ‘Beyond cool,’ said George, sitting down opposite Fred.

  ‘Supercool,’ said the twins’ best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. ‘We had him this afternoon,’ he told Harry and Ron.

  ‘What was it like?’ said Harry eagerly.

  Fred, George and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

  ‘Never had a lesson like it,’ said Fred.

  ‘He knows, man,’ said Lee.

  ‘Knows what?’ said Ron, leaning forwards.

  ‘Knows what it’s like to be out there doing it,’ said George impressively.

  ‘Doing what?’ said Harry.

  ‘Fighting the Dark Arts,’ said Fred.

  ‘He’s seen it all,’ said George.

  ‘’Mazing,’ said Lee.

  Ron dived into his bag for his timetable.

  ‘We haven’t got him ’til Thursday!’ he said in a disappointed voice.

  — CHAPTER FOURTEEN —

  The Unforgivable Curses

  The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrelful of horned toads.

  ‘You know why Snape’s in such a foul mood, don’t you?’ said Ron to Harry, as they watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the toad guts from under his fingernails.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Moody.’

  It was common knowledge that Snape really wanted the Dark Arts job, and he had now failed to get it for the fourth year running. Snape had disliked all of their previous Dark Arts teachers, and shown it – but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever Harry saw the two of them together – at mealtimes, or when they passed in the corridors – he had the distinct impression that Snape was avoiding Moody’s eye, whether magical or normal.

  ‘I reckon Snape’s a bit scared of him, you know,’ Harry said thoughtfully.

  ‘Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad,’ said Ron, his eyes misting over, ‘and bounced him all around his dungeon …’

  The Gryffindor fourth-years were looking forward to Moody’s first lesson so much that they arrived early after lunch on Thursday and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung.

  The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.

  ‘Been in the –’

  ‘– library,’ Harry finished her sentence for her. ‘C’mon, quick, or we won’t get decent seats.’

  They hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher’s desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

  ‘You can put those away,’ he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, ‘those books. You won’t need them.’

  They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.

  Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled grey hair out of his twisted and scarred face and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swivelled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

  ‘Right then,’ he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, ‘I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures – you’ve covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas and werewolves, is that right?’

  There was a general murmur of assent.

  ‘But you’re behind – very behind – on dealing with curses,’ said Moody. ‘So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark –’

  ‘What, aren’t you staying?’ Ron blurted out.

  Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled – the first time Harry had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless a relief to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.

  ‘You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?’ Moody said. ‘Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago … yeah, I’m staying just the one year. Special favour to Dumbledore … one year, and then back to my quiet retirement.’

  He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

  ‘So – straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it ’til then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.’

  Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody’s magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

  ‘So … do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?’

  Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

  ‘Er,’ said Ron tentatively, �
��my dad told me about one … is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Moody appreciatively. ‘Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.’

  Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large, black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Harry felt Ron recoil slightly next to him – Ron hated spiders.

  Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it.

  He then pointed his wand at it, and muttered, ‘Imperio!’

  The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk, and began to swing backwards and forwards as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakeably a tap dance.

  Everyone was laughing – everyone except Moody.

  ‘Think it’s funny, do you?’ he growled. ‘You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?’

  The laughter died away almost instantly.

  ‘Total control,’ said Moody quietly, as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. ‘I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats …’

  Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

  ‘Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,’ said Moody, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. ‘Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

  ‘The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!’ he barked, and everyone jumped.

  Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. ‘Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?’