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Aurora Areli
AFTER BREAKFAST ON SUNDAY, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I went up to the Owlery to send a letter to Percy, asking whether he had seen Mr Crouch lately, like Sirius had suggested. We used Hedwig, because it had been so long since she'd had a job. After we had watched her fly through the Owlery window, the four of us proceeded down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks.
The house-elves gave us a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtseying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present.
"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!" he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.
"You saved my life with that Gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," Harry said.
"No chance of more of those éclairs, is there?" Ron said, looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.
"You've just had breakfast!" Hermione said irritably, but no sooner had the words left her mouth than a great silver platter of éclairs was zooming towards us, supported by four elves.
"We should get some stuff to send to Snuffles," Harry muttered.
"That's a good idea," I said, then turned to the elves and asked, "Would it be all right if we got some extra food?"
They bowed delightedly and hurried off to retrieve it.
"Dobby, where's Winky?" Hermione asked, looking around.
"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," Dobby said quietly, his ears drooping slightly.
"Oh dear," Hermione said, as she spotted Winky.
When I followed Hermione's line of sight, it was clear why she said that. Winky was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed, and she was swaying slightly on her stool, clutching a bottle of Butterbeer and staring into the fire. As we watched her, she gave an enormous hiccough.
"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispered to us.
"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry said.
But Dobby shook his head. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir."
Winky hiccoughed again. The elves who had brought the éclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work.
"Winky is pining, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered sadly. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."
Harry suddenly got a look on his face that could only mean he had a strong idea.
"Hey, Winky," he said, walking over and bending down to speak with her, "you don't know what Mr Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."
Winky's eyes flickered. Her enormous pupils focused on Harry. She swayed slightly again and then said, "M-master is stopped — hic — coming?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill."
Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Harry. "Master — hic — ill?"
Her bottom lip began to tremble.
"But we're not sure if that's true," Hermione said quickly.
"Master is needing his — hic —Winky!" the elf whimpered. "Master cannot — hic — manage — hic — all by himself . . ."
"Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," Hermione said severely.
"Winky — hic — is not only — hic — doing housework for Mr Crouch!" Winky squeaked indignantly, consequently swaying worse than ever and slopping Butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. "Master is — hic — trusting Winky with — hic — the most important — hic — the most secret —"
"What?" Harry said eagerly.
But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling more Butterbeer down herself.
"Winky keeps — hic — her master's secrets," she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Harry with her eyes crossed. "You is — hic — nosing, you is."
"Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!" Dobby said angrily. "Harry Potter is brave and noble and Harry Potter is not nosy!"
"He is nosing — hic — into my master's — hic — private and secret — hic — Winky is a good house-elf — hic — Winky keeps her silence — hic — people trying to — hic — pry and poke — hic —" Winky's eyelids drooped and suddenly, without warning, she slid off her stool onto the hearth, snoring loudly. Harry and I exchanged alarmed looks as the empty bottle of Butterbeer rolled away across the stone-flagged floor.
Half a dozen house-elves came hurrying forward, looking disgusted. One of them picked up the bottle, the others covered Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tucked the ends in neatly, hiding her from view.
"We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and misses!" a nearby elf squeaked, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and misses!"
I started to say, "You don't need to apologise —" but Hermione cut in.
"She's unhappy!" she said, exasperated. "Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?"
"Begging your pardon, miss," the house-elf said, bowing deeply again, "but house-elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served."
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione said angrily. "Listen to me, all of you! You've got just as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told — look at Dobby!"
"Miss will please keep Dobby out of this," Dobby mumbled, looking scared. All around us, the house-elves, who had once been smiling cheerily, were looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous.
"We has your extra food!" an elf that was standing on Harry's other side squeaked, shoving a large ham, a dozen cakes and some fruit into his arms. "Goodbye!"
The house-elves crowded around Harry, Ron, Hermione and I, and began shunting us out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of our backs.
"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!" Dobby called miserably from the hearth, where he was standing next to the lumpy tablecloth that was Winky.
"You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?" Ron said angrily, as the kitchen door slammed shut behind us. "They won't want us visiting them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!"
"Oh, as if you care about that!" Hermione scoffed. "You only like coming down here for the food!"
It was an irritable sort of day after that. Harry and I got so tired of Ron and Hermione sniping at each other over their homework in the common room that we decided to take Sirius' food up to the Owlery ourselves that evening.
Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by himself, so we enlisted the help of two school screech owls as well (Atticus was using Jupiter, for some odd reason). The three owls looked extremely strange carrying the large package between them as they set off into the dark. Harry rested on the windowsill, looking out onto the grounds, and I leaned into his side, with one of his arms looped around my waist.
For a while, we just sat in silence, watching the rustling treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the rippling sails of the Durmstrang ship. An eagle owl flew through the coil of smoke rising from Hagrid's chimney; it soared towards the castle, around the Owlery and out of sight.
"Wonder what Hagrid's up to?" Harry said, nodding down towards Hagrid's cabin.
I looked down to see Hagrid digging energetically in the dirt in front of it. As we watched, Madame Maxime emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage and walked over to him, appearing to be trying to engage him in conversation. Hagrid leant upon his spade, but didn't seem very keen to prolong their talk, because Madame Maxime returned to the carriage shortly afterwards.
"Huh," I said. "I guess Madame Maxime really hurt Hagrid's feelings at the Yule Ball; he seemed to like her a lot until then."
"Yeah, I guess so," Harry agreed. When I turned to look at him a second later, I found that he was already looking at me.
"What?" I said, smiling slightly.
"Nothing," Harry said, lightly shaking his head. "It's just that I really wanted to do this."
And then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. When he pulled away, we both smiled full smiles.
"Oh, is that all?" I asked playfully, turning so that we fully faced each other.
"I mean . . ."
I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him again, but when I went to break it, Harry stopped me by putting his other hand on my hair and pulling me to him. I definitely wasn't against it.
I only pulled slightly away a minute later so that we could both catch our breath.
"Ron and Hermione are probably wondering where we are," I whispered reluctantly. "Maybe we should head back soon."
Harry leaned in and pressed another chaste kiss to my lips. "We could always just —" Kiss. "— stay —" Kiss. "— here." Kiss.
Now that sounded like a much better plan to me.
. . . . .
Much to my relief, Hermione and Ron's bad moods had burnt out by breakfast the next day. Ron's predictions that the house-elves would send sub-standard food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them proved false; the bacon, eggs, and kippers were as good as usual.
When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something.
"Percy's won't've had time to answer yet," Ron said. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."
"No, it's not that," Hermione said. "I've taken out a new subscription to the Daily Prophet, I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."
"Good thinking!" Harry said, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck —"
But instead of going to Hermione, a grey owl soared down to land in front of me.
"Did you take out a subscription, too?" Harry asked.
I shook my head. "No, this is weird. I haven't sent anything lately."
To my bewilderment, the grey owl was closely followed by five barn owls, two brown owls, a tawny and a spotted owl. Some of them were trying to get to Hermione, too, all jostling as close to us as they could, trying to deliver their letters first.
"How many subscriptions did you take out, Hermione?" Harry said, seizing my goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls.
Confused, I took the letter from the first grey owl and opened it. It wasn't handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.
YoU are a WickEd giRL.
HaRRy PottEr desErves BetteR.
g0 Back wherE you CAME from,
atTEnti0n l0VinG WhoRe.
"This — what — who would send this?" I spluttered, feeling my face flush; whether from embarrassment or anger, I couldn't figure out.
"What's it say?" Harry asked, concerned. Ron and Hermione looked on curiously.
"It — here, just see for yourself," I said, thrusting the letter at Harry.
He took it, his expression quickly morphing from one of worry to fury. "What?"
I just shook my head, frowning. Harry then passed the horrible message to Ron and Hermione, who looked completely angry and shocked when they read it.
"What in the name of Merlin's —"
"Not helping, Ron," Hermione interrupted him. "I hope all of them aren't like this . . ."
I began rummaging through the rest of the letters, which, as Hermione feared, were all equally as rude. Eventually, Harry, Ron and Hermione began to open some of them as well, reading them aloud.
"Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you . . ." Ron recited, "You deserve to be boiled in frog-spawn . . . what kind of —?"
Some of them were even quite worrying. Harry found one that read, "I read in Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope."
"I'm going to kill Rita Skeeter," he said, seething. "Next time I see her, I'm going to —"
"Harry, don't," I said quickly, gently pushing his arm that was holding the letter down. "She'll just come after you next."
"Rory's right," Hermione nodded, as she opened the last envelope, "what really needs to happen is — ouch!"
A yellowish green, foul-smelling liquid gushed out of the envelope and all over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.
"Undiluted Bubotuber pus!" Ron exclaimed, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.
"Ow!" Hermione whimpered, tears starting in her eyes as she attempted to rub it off her hands with a napkin. I tried to help as best I could to stop its effects, but Hermione's fingers were now so thickly covered in painful-looking sores that it looked like she was wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.
"Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital wing," I told her, guiding her to her feet. "Harry, Ron, will you tell Professor Sprout where we are?"
"Yeah, of course," Harry said, he and Ron watching us worriedly as we left.
Ignoring taunts from the Slytherins, Hermione and I made our way to the hospital wing as quickly as possible. I tried to comfort her as best I could, but there was only so much I could do, as the boils on her hands were worsening by the second.
As I was pushing the doors to the hospital wing open, Madam Pomfrey was conveniently exiting her office. She took one look at Hermione's pained expression and her hands, and immediately hurried over.
"Bring her over here," Madam Pomfrey told me, leading the way to one of the beds. I did as instructed, and when Hermione was sitting down, Madam Pomfrey said, "Where on earth did you manage to get your hands on undiluted Bubotuber pus?"
"This morning at breakfast," I explained, as she bustled around, looking for something. "Someone sent an envelope full of it — it was addressed to me, but Hermione opened it up instead."
"An envelope?" Madam Pomfrey said in disgust.
I looked over at Hermione, who nodded. I then proceeded to tell Madam Pomfrey about the article Rita Skeeter had written, and how it had caused many of Witch Weekly's readers to send hate mail to both myself and Hermione. The whole time I was talking, Madam Pomfrey was slathering Hermione's hands with a thick paste.
"Well, if you two get any more strange letters, I would advise you not to open them," Madam Pomfrey said, working carefully as to not cause Hermione more pain. "It was wise to bring Miss Granger straight to me, but I would rather not have to patch either of you up again."
Madam Pomfrey eventually sent me off to Herbology with a calming draught, when she realised how worked up I was.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, as soon as I joined him and Harry at their table.
"Still in the hospital wing," I told them. "Madam Pomfrey is still treating her hands."
Hermione didn't turn up for the rest of Herbology. As Harry, Ron and I left the greenhouse for Care of Magical Creatures, we saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle descending the stone steps from the castle. Pansy Parkinson was whispering and giggling behind them with her gang of Slytherin girls. Catching sight of us, Pansy called, "Potter, have you split up with your other girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?"
I scowled, and sent the pug-faced girl a glare before continuing down the grounds.
Hagrid was waiting outside his cabin with a fresh supply of open crates by his feet. I exchanged uneasy looks with Harry — Hagrid had told us last lesson that we were done with unicorns, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he had in store for us next. However, when we got near enough to see inside, I found myself looking at a number of fluffy black creatures with long snouts.
They were surprisingly cute, for creatures Hagrid wanted to teach us about. Their front paws were curiously flat, like spades, and they were blinking up at our class, looking politely puzzled at all the attention.
"These're Nifflers," Hagrid said, when everyone had gathered around. "Yeh find 'em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff . . . there yeh go, look."
One of the Nifflers had suddenly leapt up and attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson's watch off her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backwards, while I turned to hide a snicker.
"Useful little treasure detectors," Hagrid said happily. "Thought we'd have some fun with 'em today. See over there?" He pointed at the large patch of freshly turned earth Harry and I had seen him digging from the Owlery window. "I've buried some gold coins. I've got a prize fer whoever picks the Niffler that digs up most. Jus' take off all yer valuables, an' choose a Niffler an' get ready ter set 'em loose."
I took off my watch and the necklace I was wearing, and put them in my pocket. Then, I picked up a Niffler, which immediately started sniffing my shoulders and hair enthusiastically with its long snout, making me giggle. It was really very cuddly.
"Hang on," Hagrid said, looking down into the crate, "there's a spare Niffler here . . . who's missin'? Where's Hermione?"
"She had to go to the Hospital wing, because —" I began, before dropping my voice, "well, we'll explain later."
I didn't want to tell Hagrid anything right then; Pansy Parkinson was listening.
That morning's lesson was easily the most fun we had ever had in Care of Magical Creatures, which made me sorry that Hermione had to miss it. The Nifflers dived in and out of the patch of earth as though it was water, each scurrying back to the student that released it and spitting gold into their hands. Ron's, to his delight, was particularly efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins.
"Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?" he asked excitedly, as his Niffler splattered his robes with soil when it dived back in.
"Yer mum wouldn' be happy, Ron," Hagrid said, grinning, "they wreck houses, Nifflers. I reckon they've nearly got the lot now," he added, pacing on the patch of earth where the Nifflers were still diving. "I on'y buried a hundred coins. Oh, there y'are, Hermione!"
I spun around to see Hermione walking towards us from across the lawn. Her hands were very heavily bandaged and she looked miserable. Pansy Parkinson was watching her beadily.
"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" Hagrid said, as Hermione came to stand next to me. "Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle," he added, beetle-black eyes narrowed. "It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."
I paid very little attention to Goyle as he emptied his pockets sulkily. Instead, I turned to Hermione and asked, "Are you feeling any better?"
"A little," she answered, holding her hands in front of her. "Madam Pomfrey gave me something for the pain and swelling, but she said it wouldn't go away for a while."
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling very guilty at how uncomfortable she seemed, "you shouldn't have had to deal with any of this — that envelope was addressed to me, I should have been the one to —"
"Don't apologise, I wouldn't wish this on anybody," Hermione said; just then, Pansy Parkinson and her gang of girls walked by, snickering at us. "I take that back, maybe I would."
Hermione and I grinned at each other, making Harry and Ron look at us in worry.
It turned out that Ron's Niffler had been most successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of Honeydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch, and while the rest of the class set off back to the castle, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I stayed behind to help Hagrid put the Nifflers back in their boxes. Harry nudged me, and indicated towards Madame Maxime, who was watching us out of her carriage window.
"What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?" asked Hagrid, looking concerned.
Hermione and I exchanged glances, then told him about the hate mail we had received that morning, and the envelope of Bubotuber pus.
"Aaah, don' worry," Hagrid said gently, looking down at us. "I got some o' those letters an' all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou' me mum. 'Yeh're a monster an' yeh should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an' if you had any decency you'd jump in a lake.'"
"What?" I said in disbelief.
"No!" Hermione said, looking shocked.
"Yeah," said Hagrid, heaving the Niffler crates over by his cabin wall. "They're jus' nutters, Rory, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."
"We'll keep that in mind," I said, nodding.
"You missed a really good lesson," Harry told Hermione, as we headed back towards the castle. "They're good, Nifflers, aren't they, Rory? Ron?"
I quickly voiced my agreement, but Ron, however, was too busy frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about something.
"What's the matter?" Harry said. "Wrong flavour?"
"No," Ron said shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"
"What gold?" Harry asked.
"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup?" said Ron. "The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"
Harry paused for a moment in thought. "Oh . . ." he said. "I dunno . . . I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"
We climbed the steps into the Entrance Hall and went into the Great Hall for lunch.
"Must be nice," Ron said abruptly, when we had sat down and started serving ourselves roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. "To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."
"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!" Harry said impatiently. "We all did, remember?"
"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," Ron muttered. "I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannons hat for Christmas."
"Forget it, all right?" Harry said.
Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, and glared at it. Then he said, "I hate being poor."
Harry, Hermione and I looked each other, none of us knowing what to say to that.
"It's rubbish," Ron said, still glaring at his potato. "I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a Niffler."
"Well, at least we know what to get you for Christmas, now," I said, trying to lighten the mood, but Ron remained gloomy as ever.
"Come on, Ron, it could be worse," Hermione said. "At least your fingers aren't full of pus." She was having a lot of difficulty managing her knife and fork, with her fingers being so swollen. "I hate that Skeeter woman!" she burst out savagely. "I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"
. . . . .
Annoyingly enough, hate mail continued to arrive over the following week. Although I followed Hagrid's advice and stopped opening it, several of my ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at me for the whole Hall to hear. Even people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the horrible article now.
One thing that was particularly painful about the whole situation was that I kept having to lie and say that Harry and I weren't together. Of course, I knew it was in both of our best interests to keep it a secret for now, but sometimes I found myself wanting to shout, "Yes! Harry's my boyfriend! Now leave me alone!" so that all the nosy people would let us live in peace (or as much as we could get).
"It'll die down, don't worry," Harry told me, looping his ankle around mine under the table, since showing any kind of affection would only cause more rumours. "We just have to ignore it for a little while longer, people got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time."
"I hope you're right," I sighed, sweeping the ashes of a Howler into a neater pile.
"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!" Hermione said angrily.
She hung back in our next DADA lesson to ask Professor Moody something. The rest of the class were very eager to leave, myself included; Moody had given us such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many people were nursing small injuries. According to Harry — who had such a bad case of Twitchy Ears that he had to hold his hands over them as we walked — my lips had turned blue.
"Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione panted five minutes later, catching up with the boys and me in the Entrance Hall and pulling Harry's hand away from one of his wiggling ears so he could hear. "Moody says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges' table at the second task, or anywhere near the lake!"
"Hermione, is there any point telling you to drop this?" Ron said.
"No!" Hermione said stubbornly. "I want to know how she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrid's mum!"
"Maybe she had you bugged," Harry suggested.
"Bugged?" I said blankly, confused.
"What . . . put fleas on her or something?" Ron said.
Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment, which was really fascinating to Ron and I, but Hermione interrupted.
"Aren't you two ever going to read Hogwarts, A History?"
"What's the point?" Ron said. "You and Rory know it off by heart, we can just ask one of you."
"All those substitutes for magic Muggles use — electricity, and computers and radar, and all those things — they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there's too much magic in the air. No, Rita's using magic to eavesdrop, she must be . . . if I could just find out what it is . . . ooh, if it's illegal, I'll have her . . ."
"Haven't we got enough to worry about?" Ron asked her. "Do we have to start a vendetta against Rita Skeeter as well?"
"I'm not asking you to help!" Hermione snapped. "I'll do it on my own!"
She marched back up the marble staircase before I could ask what she was doing. I figured she was going to the library.
"What's betting she comes back with a box of I Hate Rita Skeeter badges?" said Ron.
Hermione, however, did not ask Harry, Ron or me to help her pursue vengeance against Rita Skeeter. The boys seemed very grateful for this, and I was too, along with being slightly confused. I didn't really have time to dwell on it much, though — all of our teachers had assigned so much homework that it was a miracle I was able to get through it all. On top of that, I had been helping Harry send out letters and food parcels to Sirius.
Hedwig didn't return with Percy's reply until the end of the Easter holidays. His letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs Weasley had sent. Both Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs, and full of homemade toffee. Mine and Hermione's, however, were smaller than a chicken's egg. Hermione's face fell when she saw it, and judging by the unpleasant feeling in my chest, mine had too.
"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Yeah," Ron said, mouth full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."
"Oh," I said, biting my lip. "Guess we fit her definition of 'scarlet women'."
"You can have some of mine, if you want," Harry said awkwardly, but I shook my head. "Okay . . . well, don't you want to see what Percy's written?"
Percy's letter was short and irritable.
As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash those ridiculous rumours. Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter.
. . . . .
Under normal circumstances, the start of the summer term would have meant that Harry and I would be training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was all about the third task. Harry still didn't know what was going to happen, meaning Ron, Hermione and I had no idea either. Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held him back in Transfiguration.
After he had caught back up with us, Harry explained that he had to go down to the Quidditch pitch that night at nine o'clock to see Mr Bagman, who would be there to tell the champions about the third task. So at half past eight, Harry left Ron, Hermione and I up in Gryffindor Tower, and went downstairs. The three of us passed the time by working on homework, or, in my case, finishing a letter to my mum. We were all eager to hear what the next task would be.
It was a quarter before ten when I finished my letter. Instead of waiting until the following day to deliver it, I decided to go down to the Owlery that night. Jupiter was in need of a job; lately we had been using school owls to send things to Sirius.
With my arms swinging by my sides, I made my way down the many staircases at a leisurely pace. My footsteps echoed off the high ceilings, since technically I wasn't supposed to be out of bed this late, and the corridors were empty.
Or so I thought.
When I reached the second floor, the sound of quick, heavy footsteps and laboured breathing reached my ears. I paused, frowning. Who else would be out at this hour?
It was Harry. He came tearing down the corridor, looking quite worked up.
"Harry?" I said in confusion.
"Rory!" he panted, skidding to a stop in front of me. "What — what are you do-doing — never mind, I have to — to warn Dumbledore — Mr Crouch —"
"Harry, what —?" I began, but never got to finish. He had already started off towards Dumbledore's office again, leaving me no choice but to follow.
"Sher-sherbet lemon!" Harry gasped at the stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor, while I looked on in confusion. Instead of springing to life and jumping aside like I remembered it doing two years ago, the gargoyle remained frozen. The password had evidently changed.
"Move!" Harry shouted at it. "C'mon!"
But it was no use. Harry let out a groan of frustration, before frantically staring up and down the dark corridor. I didn't know what to do.
"Maybe Dumbledore's in the staff room?" I suggested.
Harry stared at me, eyes widening in realization, before he took hold of my arm and pulled me along with him as he sprinted towards the staircase.
"POTTER! ARELI!"
Harry and I skidded to a halt, looking at each other in alarm before staring around for the owner of the voice.
We didn't have to look for long; Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned us back towards him. "What are you two doing here?"
"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" Harry said, and I followed him as he ran back up the corridor and came to a standstill in front of Snape instead. "It's Mr Crouch . . . he's just turned up . . . he's in the Forest . . . he's asking —"
I turned to look at Harry, shocked.
"What is this rubbish?" Snape said, his black eyes glittering. "What are you talking about?"
"Mr Crouch!" Harry shouted. "From the Ministry! He's ill or something — he's in the Forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to —"
"The Headmaster is busy, Potter," said Snape, his thin mouth curling into an unpleasant smile that I wanted very badly to slap off.
"I've got to tell Dumbledore!" Harry yelled.
"Didn't you hear me, Potter?" Snape said.
"Didn't you hear him?" I snapped, growing angry that Snape was being so interfering. I could tell that he was thoroughly enjoying himself, denying Harry the thing he wanted when he was so panicky.
"Look," Harry said angrily, "Crouch isn't right — he's — he's out of his mind — he says he wants to warn —"
The stone wall behind Snape slid open. Dumbledore was standing there, wearing long green robes, and a mildly curious expression.
"Is there a problem?" he said, looking between Snape, Harry and me (he didn't seem very surprised that I was there).
"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, side-stepping Snape before he could speak. "Mr Crouch is here — he's down in the Forest, he wants to speak to you!"
Instead of questioning Harry further, Dumbledore simply said, "Lead the way."
I had to walk very fast to keep up with Harry as we left Snape standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as ugly.
"What did Mr Crouch say, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, as we swiftly made our way down the marble staircase.
"Said he wants to warn you . . ." Harry told him, "said he's done something terrible . . . he mentioned his son . . . and Bertha Jorkins . . . and — and Voldemort . . . something about Voldemort getting stronger . . ."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, not looking even half as concerned as I was. Nevertheless, he quickened his pace as we hurried out into the pitch-darkness.
"He's not acting normally," Harry said, the two of us hurrying beside Dumbledore. "He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you . . . I left him with Viktor Krum."
"You did?" Dumbledore said sharply, and he somehow began to take even longer strides, so that Harry and I were running to keep up. "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr Crouch?"
"No," Harry said. "Krum and I were talking, Mr Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr Crouch coming out of the Forest —"
"Where are they?" Dumbledore cut Harry off, as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the shadows.
"Over here," said Harry, moving in front of us to lead the way through the trees. He seemed to know where he was going, but still moved with caution.
"Viktor?" Harry suddenly shouted, making me jump.
No one answered.
"They were here," Harry said, mostly to Dumbledore. "They were definitely somewhere around here . . ."
"Lumos," Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up.
Its narrow beam travelled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the ground. My heart skipped a beat when it then landed on a pair of feet sticking out from behind a tree.
Harry, Dumbledore and I hurried forwards. It turned out that those feet belonged to Krum; he was sprawled out on the Forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious.
I really hoped he was only unconscious.
There was no sign at all of Mr Crouch, but I couldn't shake the horrible feeling that we weren't alone.
Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of his eyelids.
"Stunned," he said softly, half-moon glasses glittering in the wandlight as he peered around at the trees surrounding us.
"Should — should we go and get someone?" I asked hesitantly. "Madam Pomfrey?"
"No," Dumbledore swiftly said. "Stay here, both of you."
Next moment, he had raised his wand in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. I saw a silvery apparition, like a ghostly bird, dart out of it and streak away through the trees. Then Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, "Rennervate."
Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. He tried to sit up when he saw Dumbledore, but the Hogwarts Headmaster 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 thundering footfalls soon reached us, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.
"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry — Rory — 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 towards us, 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?" Hagrid said blankly.
"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" Dumbledore said sharply.
"Oh yeah . . . right y'are, Professor . . ." Hagrid said, before turning and disappearing 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," Moody growled; he raised his wand, and limped off into the Forest.
Neither myself, Harry or Dumbledore spoke again until we heard the unmistakeable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them, clad in sleek silver furs, and looking pale and agitated.
"What is this?" he cried, when he saw Krum on the ground, and Dumbledore, Harry and I beside him. "What's going on?"
"I vos attacked!" Krum said, now sitting up, 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 positively livid.
"Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing a manicured finger 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!"
My eyes widened when Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. However, the surprise I felt upon witnessing the blatant act of disrespect was nothing compared to how I felt when, in one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree. Harry quickly grabbed me and pushed me behind him.
"Apologise!" Hagrid snarled, as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling mid-air. I had never seen our giant friend look so utterly frightening before — and I never wanted to again.
"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.
Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, allowing Durmstrang's Headmaster to slide all the way down the trunk, and slump in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.
"Kindly escort Harry and Aurora back up to the castle, Hagrid," Dumbledore instructed sharply.
Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look. "Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster . . ."
"You will take Harry and Aurora back to school, Hagrid," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Take them right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry, Aurora as well — 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," Harry agreed.
"Yes, Professor," I said, staring up at him. How had Dumbledore known that I wanted to send a letter? Now two, since Sirius would need to be informed of this. Had he used Legilimency?
"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid said, still giving Karkaroff, who was still tangled in furs and roots at the foot of the tree, the most menacing of glares. "Stay, Fang. C'mon Harry, Rory."
We marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and up towards the castle. I was still rather shaken up, and I'm sure Harry was too, at least judging by his grip on my hand.
"How dare he," Hagrid growled, as we strode past the lake. "How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you, Harry, in the Tournament in the first 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, utterly 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!" Harry said, as we 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," Hagrid said grimly, making me frown as he stomped 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. I knew at once that was the wrong thing to say.
"Don' you talk ter me abou' her!" Hagrid said, and he looked quite as frightening as before 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 that I was very glad to say goodbye to him in front of the Fat Lady. Harry and I clambered through the portrait hole into the common room, and hurried straight for the corner where Ron and Hermione (who looked quite confused to see that we were together) were sitting, to tell them what we had seen.
-
fun fact! the word 'draught' is pronounced like 'draft'.
also, i just wanted to thank everyone who takes the time to vote and comment and even just read this story. it's super exciting whenever notifications show up that one of you has interacted with apricity!!
i am v grateful for all of you!!!