"Zoe! Emma!" Hermione practically lunged at us at breakfast. "What's up"I asked

Hermione had an excited look on her face. "This isn't going to be good" muttered Zoe, I noticed a box in her hands.

"What's in the box?" I asked, pointing at it. 

"Funny you should ask," said Hermione, with a nasty look atZoe. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but allbearing the same letters: S.P.E.W. 

" 'Spew'?" said Zoe, picking up a badge and looking at it."What's this about?" 

"Not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Standsfor the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare." 

"Never heard of it," said Zoe. 

"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione briskly, "I've onlyjust started it." 

"Yeah?" said Zoe in mild surprise. "How many members haveyou got?" 

"Well — if you two join — five," said Hermione. 

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying'spew,' do you?" said Zoe. 

"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop theOutrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status — but it wouldn't fit. Sothat's the heading of our manifesto." 

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them."I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anythingabout it before now." 

"Hermione — open your ears," said Zoe loudly. "They. Like. It.They like being enslaved!" 

"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Zoe, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "areto secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our longterm aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and tryingto get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control ofMagical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented." 

"And how do we do all this?" I asked. 

"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "Ithought two Sickles to join — that buys a badge — and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Zoe — I'vegot you a collecting tin upstairs — and Emma, you're secretary, soyou might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as arecord of our first meeting." 

There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at the pair ofus, and I sat, torn between exasperation at Hermione andamusement at the look on Zoe's face. The silence was broken. 

"Why are you here Granger?" Draco asked coming towards us.

"We were--"

"Emma!" I turned to see Harry running towards me. "Hedwig's-B-back." he panted, my heart leaped and I dragged him to a corner. I opened and read it. 

Harry, Emma —I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar isthe latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached mehere. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore — they'resaying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he'sreading the signs, even if no one else is.I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. 

Keepyour eyes open, guys. 

Sirius

Harry looked up at me, who stared back at him. 

"He's flying north?" I whispered. "He's coming back?" 

"Dumbledore's reading what signs?" said Harry, looking perplexed. "Emma — what's up?" 

For I had just hit myself in the forehead with my fist. 

"we shouldn't've told him!" I said furiously. 

"What are you on about?" said Harry in surprise. 

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" I said, nowslamming my fist on the wall. "Coming back, because hethinks we're in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with us!" 

"Emma--"

"See you later" I said shortly. 

---

Early  next morning, I woke with a plan fully formed in mymind, as though my sleeping brain had been working on it allnight. I got up, dressed in the pale dawn light, left the dormitorywithout waking Zoe, and went back down to the deserted commonroom. 

Here I took a piece of parchment from the table upon which I wrote the following letter: 

Dear Sirius, 

we reckon we just imagined our scar hurting,we were half asleepwhen we wrote to you last time. There's no point coming back,everything's fine here. Don't worry about us,our head feelscompletely normal. 

Emma

I then climbed out of the common room, up through the silentcastle (held up only briefly by Peeves, who tried to overturn a large vase on me halfway along the fourth-floor corridor), finally arriving at the Owlery, which was situated at the top of West Tower.The Owlery was a circular stone room, rather cold and drafty,because none of the windows had glass in them. The floor wasentirely covered in straw, owl droppings, and the regurgitatedskeletons of mice and voles. Hundreds upon hundreds of owls ofevery breed imaginable were nestled here on perches that rose rightup to the top of the tower, nearly all of them asleep, though hereand there a round amber eye glared at me. I spotted Hedwignestled between a barn owl and a tawny, and hurried over to her,sliding a little on the dropping-strewn floor. 

It took me a while to persuade her to wake up and then to lookat me, as she kept shuffling around on her perch, showing me hertail. She was evidently still furious about my lack of gratitude theprevious day. In the end, it was me suggesting she might be tootired, and that perhaps I would ask Ron to borrow Pigwidgeon,that made her stick out her leg and allow me to tie the letter to it. 

"Just find him, all right?" I said, stroking her back as I carried her on my arm to one of the holes in the wall. "Before the dementors do." 

She nipped my finger, perhaps rather harder than she would ordinarily have done, but hooted softly in a reassuring sort of way allthe same. Then she spread her wings and took off into the sunrise. I watched her fly out of sight with the familiar feeling of unease back in my stomach. I had been so sure that Sirius's replywould alleviate my worries rather than increasing them. 

"That was a lie, Emma," said Hermione sharply over breakfast,when I told Harry, her and Ron what I had done. "You didn't imagineyour scar hurting and you know it."

"So what?" said Harry. "He's not going back to Azkaban becauseof us." 

"Drop it," said Ron sharply to Hermione as she opened hermouth to argue some more, and for once, Hermione heeded him,and fell silent. 

I did my best not to worry about Sirius over the next couple of weeks. True, I could not stop myself from looking anxiously around every morning when the post owls arrived, nor, lateat night before I went to sleep, prevent myself from seeing horrible visions of Sirius, cornered by dementors down some dark London street, but between times I tried to keep my mind off ourgodfather. 

. On the other hand, our lessons were becoming moredifficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Moody'sDefense Against the Dark Arts.To our surprise, Professor Moody had announced that hewould be putting the Imperius Curse on each of us in turn, todemonstrate its power and to see whether we could resist its effects. 

"But — but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Nicholas uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of hiswand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "Yousaid — to use it against another human was —" 

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody,his magical eye swiveling onto Nicholas and fixing him with aneerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way — whensomeone's putting it on you so they can control you completely —fine by me. You're excused. Off you go." 

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Nicholas wentvery pink and muttered something about not meaning that shewanted to leave. Draco and Zoe grinned at each other. They knewNicholas would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson. 

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put theImperius Curse upon them. I watched as, one by one, myclassmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Ryan Harper hopped three times around the room, singing thenational anthem. Astoria Tallow imitated a squirrel. Nicholas performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainlynot have been capable of in his normal state. 

Not one of themseemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recoveredonly when Moody had removed it."Potter," Moody growled, "you next." 

I moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into thespace that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand,pointed it at me, and said, "Imperio!" 

It was the most wonderful feeling. I felt a floating sensationas every thought and worry in my head was wiped gently away,leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. I stood therefeeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watchingme.And then I heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in somedistant chamber of my empty brain: 

Jump onto the desk . . . jumponto the desk. . . . I bent my knees obediently, preparing to spring.Jump onto the desk. . . .Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of my brain.

Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice. 

Jump onto the desk. . . . 

No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little morefirmly . . . no, I don't really want to. . . . 

Jump! NOW ! 

The next thing I felt was considerable pain. I had bothjumped and tried to prevent myself from jumping — the resultwas that I'd smashed headlong into the desk, knocking it over,and, by the feeling in my legs, fractured both my kneecaps. 

"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, I felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. I remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in his kneesseemed to double. 

"Look at that, you lot . . . Potter fought! She fought it, and damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you,pay attention — watch her eyes, that's where you see it — verygood, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controllingyou!" 

"The way he talks," I muttered as I hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later (Moody had insistedon putting me through his paces four times in a row, until I could throw off the curse entirely), "you'd think we were allgoing to be attacked any second." 

"Yeah, I know," said Zoe, who was skipping on every alternatestep. She had had much more difficulty with the curse than me,though Moody assured her the effects would wear off by lunchtime. "Talk about paranoid . . ." Zoe glanced nervously over her shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot andwent on. "No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Malfoy what he did to that witchwho shouted 'Boo' behind him on April Fools' Day? And when arewe supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?" 

All the fourth years had noticed a definite increase in theamount of work we were required to do this term. ProfessorMcGonagall explained why, when the class gave a particularly loudgroan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she hadassigned. 

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magicaleducation!" she told us, her eyes glinting dangerously behindher square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer —" 

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" said Ryan Harperindignantly. 

"Maybe not, Harper, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Potter remains the only person in this classwho has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Harper still curlsup in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!" 

I smirked. 

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History ofMagic, had us writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions ofthe eighteenth century. 

Professor Snape was forcing us to research antidotes. We took this one seriously, as he had hinted thathe might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if theirantidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked us to read threeextra books in preparation for our lesson on Summoning Charms. 

Even Hagrid was adding to our workload. The Blast-EndedSkrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody hadyet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part ofour "project," suggested that we come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior. 

"I will not," said Draco  flatly when Hagrid had proposedthis with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy outof his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons,thanks." 

Hagrid's smile faded off his face."Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outtaProfessor Moody's book. . . . I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy." 

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. A few Slytherins chuckled. Draco flushed withanger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was stillsufficiently painful to stop him from retorting.

When we arrived in the entrance hall, we found ourselvesunable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected atthe foot of the marble staircase. Draco the tallest stoodon tiptoe to see over the heads in front of us and read the signaloud to the us: 

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT 

The delegations from Beauxbatons andDurmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clockon Friday the 30th of October. Lessons willend half an hour early — 

"Brilliant!" said Draco. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snapewon't have time to poison us all!" 

Students will return their bags and booksto their dormitories and assemble in frontof the castle to greet our guests beforethe Welcoming Feast. 

"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows?Think I'll go and tell him. . . ." 

"Cedric?" said Zoe blankly as Ernie hurried off. 

"Diggory," I said. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Draco as we pushedour way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase. 

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beatSlytherin at Quidditch,once " said Zoe. "I've heard he's a reallygood student — and he's a prefect." 

She spoke as though this settled the matter. 

"You only like him because he's handsome," said Nicholas scathingly. 

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!"said Zoe indignantly. Nicholas gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like"Lockhart!" 

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week,there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where I went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying fromstudent to student like highly contagious germs: who was going totry for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve,how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed fromthemselves. 

I noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing anextra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had beenscrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt theirraw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming andmoving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe theirshoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. 

Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too." Miss Greengrass, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficultlesson, during which Astoria had accidentally transplanted her ownears onto a cactus. 

When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, eachof them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion forGryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with ablack badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent forSlytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all borethe Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake unitedaround a large letter H.

"Who are the judges?" Zoe asked as her, Hermione and I went to Breakfast.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on thepanel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rathersurprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposedto be catching went on the rampage."She noticed us all looking at her and said, with her usual airof impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It'sall in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts,Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School." 

"What are you on about?" said Zoe, though I thought Iknew what was coming. 

"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, inover a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we areall colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!" I shook my head and applied myself to my scrambled eggs. I and Zoe's lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever tocurb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves. Or Harry's and Ron.

True, four of us had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, butwe had only done it to keep her quiet. Our Sickles had beenwasted, however; if anything, they seemed to have made Hermionemore vociferous. She had been badgering us ever since,first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and-- As Harry and Ron told me--she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common roomevery evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses."You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, yourclassrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magicalcreatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely. 

Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermionefrom glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in whatshe had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke.Zoe now rolled her eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding usall in autumn sunlight, and Fred and George over heard this little conversation. 

 George, leaned in toward Hermione."Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?" 

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to —" 

"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times,to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They thinkthey've got the best job in the world —" 

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by thesudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. 

I looked up at once, and saw Hedwigsoaring toward me. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she andZoe watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto myshoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily. 

I pulled off Sirius's reply and offered Hedwig my baconrinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that Fred andGeorge were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, I read out Sirius's letter in a whisper toZoe and Hermione. 

Nice try, Emma. 

I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keepme posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't useHedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, justwatch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar. 

"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Zoe asked in a lowvoice. 

"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," I said at once."She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he'shiding . . . I mean, they're not native birds, are they?" 

I rolled up the letter and slipped it inside my robes, wondering whether I felt more or less worried than before. I supposed that Sirius managing to get back without being caught wassomething. I couldn't deny either that the idea that Sirius wasmuch nearer was reassuring; at least I wouldn't have to wait solong for a response every time we wrote. I'll show the letter to Harry later.

Thanks, Hedwig," I said, stroking her. She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into my goblet of orange juice, then tookoff again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day.Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interestedin the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons andDurmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it washalf an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Me, Dray 

Zoe, andNicholas hurried up to Dungeons, deposited our bagsand books as we had been instructed, pulled on our cloaks, andrushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines. 

"Talllow, straighten yo hat," Professor Snape snappedat Nicholas. "Miss Prankinson. take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."Pansy scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly fromthe end of her plait."Follow me, please," said Professor Snape. "First years infront . . . no pushing. . . ." 

We filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. Itwas a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparentlooking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. I, standing between Zoe and Nicholas in the fourth rowfrom the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years. 

"Nearly six," said Zoe, checking her watch and then staringdown the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckonthey're coming? The train?" 

"I doubt it," said Nicholas. 

"How, then? Broomsticks?" Draco suggested, looking up at thestarry sky.

I shook my head "I don't think so . . . not from that far away. . . ." 

"A Portkey?" Zoe suggested. "Or they could Apparate — maybeyou're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?" 

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often doI have to tell you?" I said impatiently.We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing wasmoving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. I wasstarting to feel cold. I wished they'd hurry up. . . . Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance. . . . I remembered what Mr. Weasley had said back at the campsite before theQuidditch World Cup: "always the same — we can't resist showingoff when we get together. . . ." 

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where hestood with the other teachers —"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation fromBeauxbatons approaches!" 

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in differentdirections."There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed,a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. 

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her headcompletely. 

"Don't be stupid . . . it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey. 

Dennis's guess was closer. . . . As the gigantic black shapeskimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lightsshining from the castle windows hit it, we saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring towards us, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriagehurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed —then, with an almighty crash that made Harper jump backwardonto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger thandinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landedtoo, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossedtheir enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes. 

I just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore acoat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars)before it opened.A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bentforward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriagefloor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. 

Then I saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emergingfrom the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a child's sled —followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman I had everseen in my life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. 

A few people gasped. I had only ever seen one person as large as this woman inmy life, and that was Hagrid; I doubted whether there was aninch difference in their heights. Yet somehow — maybe simplybecause I was used to Hagrid — this woman (now at the foot ofthe steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd)seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the lightflooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and arather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in blacksatin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and onher thick fingers. 

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead,broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forwardtoward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore,though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it. 

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts." 

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope Ifind you well?" 

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore. 

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her. I, whose attention had been focused completely uponMadame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls,all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from thecarriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. Theywere shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robesseemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearingcloaks. 

A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.From what I could see of them (they were standing in MadameMaxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwartswith apprehensive looks on their faces. 

" 'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked. 

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Wouldyou like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses —" 

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to takecare of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returnedfrom dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of hisother — er — charges." 

"Skrewts," Zoe muttered to me, grinning. 

"My steeds require — er — forceful 'andling," said MadameMaxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey arevery strong. . . ." 

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling. 

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will youplease inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?" 

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing. 

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students,and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students topass up the stone steps. 

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?"Ryan Harper said, leaning around Astoria and Pansy to address me and Zoe. 

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't beable to handle them," said Zoe. "That's if he hasn't been attackedby his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?" 

"Maybe they've escaped," I said hopefully. 

"Oh don't say that," said Zoe with a shudder. "Imaginethat lot loose on the grounds. . . ." 

We stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrangparty to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by MadameMaxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then — 

"Can you hear something?" said Zoe suddenly. I listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting towardus from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and suckingsound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving alonga riverbed. . . . 

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at thelake!" 

From our position at the top of the lawns overlooking thegrounds, we had a clear view of the smooth black surface of thewater — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all.Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over themuddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, awhirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out ofthe lake's floor. . . .What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out ofthe heart of the whirlpool . . . and then Harry saw the rigging. . . . 

"It's a mast!" I said to Zoe and Nicholas. 

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming inthe moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as thoughit were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmeringat its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. 

Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulentwater, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later,they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.People were disembarking; we could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. 

All of them, I noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle . . .but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the lightstreaming from the entrance hall, I saw that their bulk was reallydue to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy,matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle waswearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair. 

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope."How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?" 

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into thelight pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that hewas tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short,and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide hisrather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook handswith both of his own. 

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smiledid not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "Howgood it is to be here, how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into thewarmth . . . you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight headcold. . . ."Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boypassed, Harry caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose andthick black eyebrows. Draco nudged me. 

"Emma — it's Krum!"

I wasn't listening, I had caught the eye of a boy with Dark hair and grey eyes.