Hogwarts Love Story Part 17

Year four is here! Oliver has left Hogwarts,but he won't leave you behind.With a big event at Hogwarts approaching,everyone is excited. Are you going to survive year four? =/

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Created by: 5thMarauder
  1. What is your age?
  2. What is your gender?
  1. Dia dhiabh! XP Ok,so in this one the Quidditch World Cup is on,eeeeep,SO EXCITING!! Anyway play this song from question 7-8 /watch?v=OZW4zbL-UR0
  2. "House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir." ."Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Harry, frowning. "Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf." She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back to the others. "So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?" "Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently. Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium. "Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again...and again...and again..." Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvetcovered, tasseled program. "'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,"' she read aloud. "Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show." The box filled gradually around you over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him."Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter...oh come on now, you know who he is...the boy who survived You-Know-Who...you do know who he is -" The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it. "Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat....Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places...ah, and here's Lucius!" Everyone turned quickly. Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco; and a woman you supposed must be Draco's mother. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose. "Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?" "How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?".It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row. "Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?".Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest." "How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile. Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. You knew exactly what was making Mr. Malfoy's lip curl like that. The Malfoys prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, second-class. However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn't dare say anything. He nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron, and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father,although he smiled slightly,and rather guiltily at you. "Slimy gits," Ron muttered as you turned to face the field again. Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box."Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?" "Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably. Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands. "Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0. "And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval."I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"."What are veel -?" But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry's question was answered for him. Veela were women...beautiful women...except that they weren't - they couldn't be - human. This puzzled you for a moment while you tried to guess what exactly they could be; what could make their skin shine moon-bright like that, or their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind...but then the music started,and the vela started dancing. The men and boys in the stadium started acting very strangely. You rolled your eyes. Hermione tutted. The veela danced faster and faster,and many men stood up,doing extremely strange things."Harry,what ARE you doing?!",exclaimed Hermione. Harry was standing,one of his legs resting on the wall of the box. Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked as if he was about to jump off a springboard.Hermione made a loud tutting noise. She reached up and pulled Harry back into his seat. "Honestly!" she said. "And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!".Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it - "Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, you realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green."Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold."There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!" The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.
  3. The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!" A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters. "Ivanova!".A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out. "Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!" "That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars.Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen. "And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!" Seven green blurs swept onto the field."And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!" A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache,wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.You watched closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls."Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!" It was Quidditch as you had never seen it played before. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. "TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!" "What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!" "Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" shouted Hermione, who was dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air while Troy did a lap of honor around the field.The leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.You knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were amazing. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves. And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal. "Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration. The veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle."Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman.One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. You followed their descent through your Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was - "They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione next to you.She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats. "Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!" "It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!" "He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course...." Krum was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion. You, focusing still more closely upon Krum's face, saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.
  4. Lynch got to his feet at last, and you loudy cheered along with the green-clad supporters,Lynch mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything you had seen so far. After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly you didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told you it had been a foul."And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing - excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!" The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!".The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again. As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears, but you, who hadn't bothered, was soon tugging on Harry's arm. He turned to look at you, and you pulled his fingers impatiently out of his ears. "Look at the referee!" you said, giggling.Harry looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly."Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!" A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; you, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous."And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before...Oh this could turn nasty...It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle."Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms...yes...there they go...and Troy takes the Quaffle..." Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything anyone had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom."Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green. "Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!" The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through his Omnioculars, you saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders - "And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!".Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. You turned this way and that, staring through his Omnioculars, as the Quaffie changed hands with the speed of a bullet."Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!" But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov - The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and you couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight."Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -",shoute Ron."Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and you were quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing..."He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!" Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on...but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, you had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again.
  5. "They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione. "They're not!" roared Ron. "Lynch is!" you yelled. And you were right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela. "The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row. "He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry. Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight. "IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" "What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!" "He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good...He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all.... "He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess...." It was hard to see what was happening below, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but you could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn. "Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind You. You looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. "You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!" "Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging. "And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.Your eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, you saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing. "Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted. And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; you could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction. One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Harry noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar. And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Your hands were numb with clapping. At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Confolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus." "They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that....shame it couldn't have lasted longer....Ah yes...yes, I owe you....how much?" For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.
  6. "Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as you all made your way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs. "Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated." Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know. You were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward you on the night air as you retraced your steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over people's heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When you finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that you could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. You were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. From the other side of the campsite you could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang. "Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," muttered Mr. Weasley sleepily. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating.".Quite suddenly you were awoken by Mr. Weasley was shouting. "Get up! Ron - Harry - come on now, get up, this is urgent!".You could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. Everyone hurried outside. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, you could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward you, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward you; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. You squinted at them....They didn't seem to have faces....Then you realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice you saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder. The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and you recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee. "That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick....". Mr. Weasley ,the twins and Ginny hurried over. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out."We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!" Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer. "C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione,you and George followed. You all looked back as you reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; you could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall. The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. You felt yourself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces you could not see. Then Ron yelled with pain "What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid - lumos!" She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.
  7. "Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again. "Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them. Everyone turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees. "Oh,hi,_____,good to see you",he said,smirking. Ron told Malfoy to do something that you knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley."Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?" He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them. "What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly. "Granger, they're after Muggles, "said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around....they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh." "Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled. "Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are." "You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron. Everybody present knew that "Mudblood" was a very offensive term for a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage. "Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy. There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything you had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly. "Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?" "Where're your parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?" Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling. "Well...if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?" "Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others." "Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy. "Come on," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron up the path again. "I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly. "Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?" Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all looking nervously over their shoulders toward the commotion back at the campsite. A huddle of teenagers in pajamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path. When they saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly, "O¨¹ est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue -" "Er - what?" said Ron. "Oh..." The girl who had spoken turned her back on him, and as you walked on you distinctly heard her say, "'Ogwarts." "Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione. "Sorry?" said Harry. "They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "You know...Beauxbatons Academy of Magic....I read about it in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe." "Oh...yeah...right," said Harry. "Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione's, and squinting up the path. You did the same. "Ah, no, I don't believe it...I've lost my wand!",moaned Harry. "You're kidding!" You and the others raised your wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Harry looked all around him, but his wand was nowhere to be seen. "Maybe it's back in the tent," said Ron. "Maybe it fell out of your pocket when we were running?" Hermione suggested anxiously. "Yeah," said Harry, "maybe..." A rustling noise nearby made all four of you jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold her back. "There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and labored to keep running. "People high - high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!" And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her."What's up with her?" said Ron, looking curiously after Winky. "Why can't she run properly?" "Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," said Harry."You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?" "Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said. "You heard old Winky back at the match...'House-elves is not supposed to have fun'...that's what she likes, being bossed around...." "It's people like you, Ron," Hermione began hotly, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to -" Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood. "Let's just keep moving, shall we?" said Ron, and you saw him glance edgily at Hermione. Perhaps there was truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps Hermione was in more danger than you,Harry and Ron were. You set off again, Harry still searching his pockets. You followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny. YOu passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, and who seemed quite unperturbed by the trouble at the campsite. Farther still along the path, you walked into a patch of silvery light, and when you looked through the trees, you saw three tall and beautiful veela standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly.
  8. "I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a year!" one of them shouted. "I'm a dragon killer for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures." "No, you're not!" yelled his friend. "You're a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron...but I'm a vampire hunter, I've killed about ninety so far -" A third young wizard, whose pimples were visible even by the dim, silvery light of the veela, now cut in, "I'm about to become the youngest ever Minister of Magic, I am." Harry snorted with laughter, but Ron's face had gone oddly slack, and next second Ron was yelling, "Did I tell you I've invented a broomstick that'll reach Jupiter?" "Honestly!" said Hermione, as she and you grabbed Ron firmly by the arms, wheeled him around, and marched him away. By the time the sounds of the veela and their admirers had faded completely, you were in the very heart of the wood.You seemed to be alone now; everything was much quieter. Harry looked around. "I reckon we can just wait here, you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off." The words were hardly out of his mouth, when Ludo Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of them. Even by the feeble light of the two wands, you could see that a great change had come over Bagman. He no longer looked buoyant and rosy-faced; there was no more spring in his step. He looked very white and strained. "Who's that?" he said, blinking down at them, trying to make out their faces. "What are you doing in here, all alone?" You and the others looked at one another, surprised."Well - there's a sort of riot going on," said Ron. Bagman stared at him."What?" "At the campsite...some people have got hold of a family of Muggles...." Bagman swore loudly. "Damn them!" he said, looking quite distracted, and without another word, he Disapparated with a small pop! "Not exactly on top of things, Mr. Bagman, is he?" said Hermione, frowning. "He was a great Beater, though," said Ron, leading the way off the path into a small clearing, and sitting down on a patch of dry grass at the foot of a tree. "The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them.".He took his small figure of Krum out of his pocket, set it down on the ground, and watched it walk around. Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered, much less impressive on his splayed feet than on his broomstick. Everything seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over. "I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while."They'll be fine," said Ron. "Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron and watching the small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to get something on him." "That'd wipe the smirk off old Draco's face, all right," said Ron. "Those poor Muggles, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?" "They will," said Ron reassuringly. "They'll find a way." "Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight!" you said. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking, or are they just -" But you broke off abruptly and looked over your shoulder. Harry,Ron and Hermione looked quickly around too. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward the clearing. You all waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt. "Hello?" called Harry. There was silence. You and Harry got to your feet.It was too dark to see very far, but you could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of vision. "Who's there?" you said. And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell. "MORSMORDRE!" And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness your eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky. "What the -?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared. You realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue.The Dark Mark. As you watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation. Suddenly, the wood all around you erupted with screams. You scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but you couldn't see anyone."Who's there?" Harry called again. "Harry, come on, move!" Hermione had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward."What's the matter?" Harry said. "It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's sign!" "Voldemort's - ?" "Harry, come on!" Harry turned - Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum - the four of you started across the clearing - but before you had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them. You whirled around, and in an instant, you registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at yourself, Ron,Harry and Hermione. Without pausing to think, you yelled, "DUCK!" You and Harry seized the other two and pulled them down onto the ground. "STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and you felt the hair on your head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising your eyes an inch your saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness - "Stop!" yelled a voice you recognized. "STOP! That's my son!" You raised your head a little higher. The wizard in front of you had lowered his wand. You and the others rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward them, looking terrified. "Ron - Harry" - his voice sounded shaky - "Hermione -,_______,-are you all right?" "Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice. It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Harry got to his feet to face them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage. "Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?" "We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing up at the skull. "We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?" "Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping - he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"."Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to -" "Where did the Mark come from, you four?" said Mr. Weasley quickly. "Over there," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where you had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees...they shouted words - an incantation -" "Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -" But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron,you or Hermione had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees. "We're too late," said the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated." "I don't think so," said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees....There's a good chance we got them...." "Amos, be careful!" said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness. Hermione watched him vanish with her hands over her mouth. A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout. "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's - but - blimey..." "You've got someone?" shouted Mr. Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?" You heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. It was Winky. Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then he appeared to come to life again.
  9. Mr.Crouch couldn't believe it. He ended up freeing Winky. You,Hermione,Harry,Ron and Mr.Weasley made your way back to the tent. When you told the others,Percy was thunderstruck,furious that Winky would do such a thing. You drifted off to sleep,Charlie's snores filling the tent. You didn't sleep for long when you were awoken by an intense burning sensation in your chest. You sat up abruptly,shivering. You walked over to the mirror in the kitchen and examined the crescent shaped scar on your chest,just below your neck. It hadn't felt like this since your were eleven. You had acquired it when you were one, and that was all you knew. You went back to bed,slightly worried,deciding to write to Sirius or Remus. The next day,everyone returned to the burrow. After speaking to Mrs.Weasley,you,Harry,Hermione and Ron,went to Ron's bedroom. "Whats up Harry?",said Ron. "There's something I haven't told you",he said."On Saturday morning,I woke up with my scar hurting again". Ron and Hermione began to speak but you cut in. "Me too",you said."Last night".Harry and the others searched your face."What?",asked Ron. You pointed to the small but obvious scar on your neck. "Did Voldemort do that to you?",asked Harry. You nodded.
  10. There was a definite end-the-holidays gloom on the last day of Summer Holidays.Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take everyone into London. The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that everyone was jammed in the back of the taxis with their trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks that went off in Fred and George's trunks, and by the time you entered London,you,Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely scratched. Everyone was very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and you got soaked carrying your trunks across the busy road and into the station. You,Harry,Hermione and Ron went through to Platform nine and three quarters. The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron,you and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing your luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. You then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie. "I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye. "Why?" said Fred keenly. "You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it...it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all." "Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train. "Why?" said George impatiently. "You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it." "A bit of what?" said Ron. But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied everyone toward the train doors. "Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her. "Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "Yeah,thank you",you said. "Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with...one thing and another." "Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?" "You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -" "What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you....Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?" The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move. "Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from you. "What rules are they changing?" But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated. You and the others went back to your compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting. "Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what -" "Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to yours.You, Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door. "...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do...." Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice. "So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him." "Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry. "Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts." "I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?" "Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows. "Er - why not?" said Harry. "There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts - how are you going to hide a great big castle?" "But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that...well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway." "Just you, then," you said. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?" "It's bewitched," said Hermione. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE." "So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?" "Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -" "Come again?" "Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?" "Er...if you say so," said Harry. "But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

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