───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next day, Hermione was surprised and confused because Blair kept on pouting at her. She racked her brain and tried to think of anything she has done to upset Blair, but nothing! Even as they got to the Owlery and went towards the kitchens, Blair was still pouting at her.

The house-elves gave them a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtsying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present. "Harry Potter and Blair Wood is too good to Dobby!" he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.

Blair grinned at him. "You saved us, Dobby. I couldn't been merman food if you hadn't helped."

"No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?" said Ron, who was looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.

"You've just had breakfast!" said Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of eclairs was already zooming toward them, supported by four elves.

"We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles," Harry muttered.

"Good idea," said Ron. "Give Pig something to do. You couldn't give us a bit of extra food, could you?" he said to the surrounding elves, and they bowed delightedly and hurried off to get some more.

Blair whispered to one of the house-elves. "Can I have some Butterbeer?" But Hermione heard her and slapped her on the arm. Blair pouted again but sneakily took the Butterbeer from the house elf.

"Dobby, where's Winky?" said Hermione, who was looking around. "Winky is over there by the fire, miss," said Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly.

"Oh dear," said Hermione when she spotted Winky. Blair's eyes widened. Winky looked as if she hadn't washed up for days. Her clothes were unwashed, and she was clutching a bottle of butterbeer as she gave an enormous hiccup.

"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispered to Harry and Blair.

"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry said.

But Dobby shook his head. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir," he said. Winky hiccuped again. The elves who had brought the eclairs 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."

Blair walked over to Winky and bent down before taking the butterbeer from her. "Hey, Winky, you don't know what's happening to Mr. Crouch, do you? He's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."

Winky's eyes flickered. Her enormous pupils focused on Blair, who downed Winky's butterbeer. She swayed slightly again and then said, "M — Master is stopped — hic — coming?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill."

Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Blair. "Master — hic — ill?" Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"But we're not sure if that's true," said Hermione quickly.

"Master is needing his — hic — Winky!" whimpered the elf. "Master cannot — hic — manage — hic — all by himself."

"Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," Hermione said severely. Blair winced when tears came into Winky's eyes.

"Winky — hic — is not only — hic — doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Winky squeaked indignantly, swaying worse than ever. "Master is — hic — trusting Winky with — hic — the most important — hic — the most secret —"

"What?" said Blair.

But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling a new bottle of butterbeer down herself. "Winky keeps — hic — her master's secrets," she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Blair with her eyes crossed. "You is — hic — nosing, you is."

"Winky must not talk like that to Blair Wood!" said Dobby angrily. "Blair Wood is brave and noble and Blair Wood is not nosy!

"She 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 into the hearth, snoring loudly.

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!" squeaked a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and misses!"

"She's unhappy!" said Hermione, exasperated. "Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?"

"Begging your pardon, miss," said the house-elf, 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 cried. "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.

The cheery smiles had vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen. They were suddenly looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous. "We has your extra food!" squeaked an elf at Harry's elbow, and he shoved a large ham, a dozen cakes, and some fruit into Blair's arms. "Good-bye!"

The house-elves crowded around Blair, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and began shunting them out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of their backs.

"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter, Miss Blair!" 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?" said Ron angrily as the kitchen door slammed shut behind them. "They won't want us visiting them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!"

"Well, they love me so I doubt they wouldn't let me in." Blair muttered under her breath, and Harry held back a snicker.

"Oh as if you care about that!" scoffed Hermione. "You only like coming down here for the food!"

Blair and Harry eventually got tired of their bickering and went up to the Owlery and took Sirius's food up to the Owlery themselves. Pigwidgeon was much too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by himself, so Harry and Blair enlisted the help of two school screech owls as well.

Blair leaned on the windowsill and looked out a the grounds. She nudged Harry, and they saw Hagrid digging energetically in front of his cabin. "What's he doing?" Harry asked.

Blair snorted. "Making a new vegetable patch?" The two of them laughed and observed some more.

As they watched, Madame Maxime emerged from the Beauxbatons carriage and walked over to Hagrid. She appeared to be trying to engage him in conversation. Hagrid leaned upon his spade, but did not seem keen to prolong their talk, because Madame Maxime returned to the carriage shortly afterward.

Harry and Blair stayed there in the Owlery and talked until night, not wanting to listen to Ron and Hermione's snarling at each other.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

By breakfast the next day, Ron's and Hermione's bad moods had burnt out, and Blair smiled and ate heartily. When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," said Ron. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

"No, it's not that," said Hermione. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."

Blair smiled at her for the first time since yesterday. "Good thinking, Mione! Look."

A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione. "It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she said, looking disappointed. "It's —"

But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

"Bloody hell, Mione. I think one was enough, eh?" said Blair, eyes wide as the owls were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

"What on earth — ?" Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputtered, going rather red.

"What's up?" said Ron.

"It's — oh how ridiculous —" She thrust the letter at Blair, who saw that it was not 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. GO back wherE you cAMe from mUGgle.

"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. "'Blair Wood can do much better than the likes of you...' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn...' Ouch!" She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

Blair frowned and got up before helping Hermione up. She wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. "Come on. Let's go to the Hospital wing. Tell Professor Sprout where we went."

Blair and Hermione walked towards the Hospital Wing in silence. Blair suddenly stopped outside the Hospital Wing.

Hermione looked up at her with tears still in her eyes. "Why did you stop?"

Blair cupped her face and wiped a stray tear away, making Hermione's cheeks flush. "Don't believe those letters, Mione. For me, you're already the best."

Hermione wanted to hug Blair right in that moment before crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at Blair. "So, why have you been pouting at me since yesterday?"

It was Blair's turn to be flustered. She pulled away and ran a hand through her hair. "Well... You don't like quiet people, do you? Or someone who's more of an action person?"

"What?" Hermione didn't know what she was talking about before it all clicked into her head. The sudden breeze that seemed to disappear when she looked towards it.

Hermione stifled her laughter and glared at Blair. "You've been spying on me?"

Blair looked down and fiddled with her fingers nervously. "I-I'm sorry, Mione."

A sudden chuckle made her look up at Hermione. Hermione smiled cheekily. "Maybe next time, ask me to walk with you instead? I'd rather be able to see and talk to you than look like a madman, talking to an invisible space."

Blair's jaw dropped open. "M-Mione. Are you asking me out on a date?"

But Hermione didn't answer. She simply giggled and went into the Hospital Wing.

Blair shook herself out of her stupor and whined. "Oi, Mione. You can't just-"

"Out, you! Out! You're disturbing my patients." Madam Pomfrey stormed over to Blair.

Blair winked at her. "Hi, Poppy. Always lovely to see you."

Madam Pomfrey's neck went red. Blair wasn't sure if it was due to anger or fluster. "Out!"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blair ran into the Herbology classroom with a roll bandage chasing her. Harry and Ron snickered as it wrapped itself around her and made her look like a mummy. Blair grumbled when they only helped her out of the wrappings after the class finished. "You gits. You just watched!" Harry and Ron just laughed in response.

On their way to their Care of Magical Creatures class, they saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle descending the stone steps of the castle. Pansy Parkinson was whispering and giggling behind them with her gang of Slytherin girls.

Catching sight of Harry, Pansy called, "Potter, have you split up with your girlfriend? Why was she so upset at breakfast?"

Blair clenched her fists. She knew Hermione wouldn't want her to cause any more trouble. Then, Blair turned her attention to the crates and cooed. She found fluffy black creatures with long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat, like spades, and they were blinking up at the class, looking politely puzzled at all the attention.

"These're nifflers," said Hagrid, when the class 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 backward.

"Useful little treasure detectors," said Hagrid happily. "Thought we'd have some fun with 'em today. See over there?"

He pointed at the large patch of freshly turned earth Harry had watched 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."

Blair picked up a niffler who nuzzled into her hand. "I'll call you Hera, eh? After my girl- well, future girlfriend."

"Hang on," said Hagrid, 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," said Ron.

"We'll explain later," Harry muttered; Blair glared at Pansy, who was listening in.

The nifflers dived in and out of the patch of earth as though it were water, each scurrying back to the student who had released it and spitting gold into their hands.

Ron's was particularly efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins. "Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?" he asked excitedly as his niffler dived back into the soil, splattering his robes.

"Yer mum wouldn' be happy, Ron," said Hagrid, grinning. "They wreck houses, nifflers. I reckon they've nearly got the lot, now," he added, pacing around the patch of earth while the nifflers continued to dive. "I on'y buried a hundred coins. Oh there y'are, Hermione!"

Hermione was walking toward them across the lawn. Her hands were very heavily bandaged and she looked miserable. Blair sent another glare at Pansy, who was looking at Hermione beadily.

"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" said Hagrid. "Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle," he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. "It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."

Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. 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; the rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Blair, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes. Blair noticed Madame Maxime watching them out of her carriage window.

"What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?" said Hagrid, looking concerned. Hermione told him about the hate mail she had received that morning, and the envelope full of bubotuber pus.

"Aaah, don' worry," said Hagrid gently, looking down at her. "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.'" Blair narrowed her eyes. Rita Skeeter was seriously ruining lives.

"No!" said Hermione, looking shocked.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. "They're jus' nutters, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."

"You missed a really good lesson," Harry told Hermione as they headed back toward the castle. "They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"

Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about something.

"What's the matter?" said Harry. "Wrong flavor?"

"No," said Ron shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

"What gold?" said Harry.

"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?"

Blair frowned at where the conversation was going.

"Oh..." Harry said. "I dunno. I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

They climbed the steps into the entrance hall and went into the Great Hall for lunch. "Must be nice," Ron said abruptly, when they had sat down and started serving themselves 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!" said Harry 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 Cannon hat for Christmas."

"Forget it, all right?" said Harry.

Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, glaring at it. Then he said, "I hate being poor." Blair, Harry and Hermione looked at each other. None of them really knew what to say.

"It's rubbish," said Ron, still glaring down 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."

"Cheer up, mate. If you want, I can tell you some tricks on what I do with Fred and George. Or I could get you a niffler from Hagrid." Blair said brightly, but Ron only managed a weak smile.

Hermione said, "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus." Hermione was having a lot of difficulty managing her knife and fork, her fingers were so stiff and 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!"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although she followed Hagrid's advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at her for the whole Hall to hear. Even those people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry-Blair-Krum-Hermione square now.

Blair wanted to hex every person that asked Harry if Hermione was his girlfriend and every person that asked Hermione how to make a love potion, but Hermione was there, warning her not to try anything. She made sure to remember those people so she could prank them with the Prancers.

"It'll die down, though," Harry told Ron, Hermione and Blair, "if we just ignore it. People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time —"

"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!" said Hermione angrily.

Hermione hung back in their next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to ask Professor Moody something. The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries, but Moody was proud to see that Blair came out unscathed.

"Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione panted five minutes later, catching up with Blair, Harry and Ron in the entrance hall and pulling Harry's hand away from one of his wiggling ears so that he could hear her. "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 in telling you to drop this?" said Ron.

"No!" said Hermione stubbornly. "I want to know how she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrid's mum!" Blair rolled her eyes at the mention of Krum.

"Maybe she had you bugged," said Harry.

"Bugged?" said Blair blankly. "What, put fleas on her or something?"

Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment. Blair was fascinated at the muggle things, but Hermione interrupted them. "Aren't you three ever going to read Hogwarts, A History?"

"Well, we have the human Hogwarts, A History right here, Granger." Blair said cheekily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and explained. "All those substitutes for magic Muggles use — electricity, 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 without a backward glance. Blair wanted to chase after her, but she still had tons of workload to do.

Blair was amazed that Hermione still had time to do her research on magical methods of eavesdropping while finishing all her work. Blair herself was working hard though she and Harry made sure to send food to Sirius.

Then, the end of Easter came. Hedwig came, and Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Blair's, Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken egg. Blair tried switching it with hers, but it was too late. Hermione's face fell when she saw it.

"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes." Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg.

"Don't you want to see what Percy's written?" Harry asked her hastily. Percy's letter was short and irritated.

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 these ridiculous rumors. Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter.

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Blair was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which she needed to prepare, but she still didn't know what she would have to do.

Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held her and Harry back in Transfiguration. "You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock, Potter, Wood," she told them. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

So at half past eight that night, Blair and Harry left Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor Tower and went downstairs. "What d'you reckon it's going to be?" Blair asked Harry as they went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night.

"I hope it's something to do with flying," said Harry. The two of them smiled. Quidditch was their escape.

They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field. "W-What've they done to it?" Blair said indignantly, stopping dead. The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello there!" called a cheery voice. Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Blair and Harry made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges.

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as Harry and Blair climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the less-than-happy expressions on Harry's and Blair's faces, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then — "Maze," grunted Krum.

"That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures then there will be spells that must be broken, all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman grinned at Harry and Blair.

"Then Mr. Krum will enter then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

Blair stifled a chuckle. If Hagrid was providing the creatures, it was more likely to be dangerous. "Very well, if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly." Bagman hurried alongside Blair and Harry as they began to wend their way out of the growing maze.

Blair and Harry looked at each other, hoping that Bagman wouldn't offer them help again, but just then, Krum tapped Blair on the shoulder. "Could I haff a vord?"

"Yeah, all right," said Blair, slightly surprised.

"Vill you valk vith me?"

"Okay," said Blair curiously.

Harry looked at Blair, asking silently if she would be alright. Bagman looked slightly perturbed. "I'll wait for you, Blair, shall I?"

"No, it's okay, Mr. Bagman," said Blair, suppressing a smile, "I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks." Then, she smiled at Harry. "See you later."

Blair and Krum left the stadium together, but Krum did not set a course for the Durmstrang ship. Instead, he walked toward the forest. "What're we going this way for?" said Blair as they passed Hagrid's cabin and the illuminated Beauxbatons carriage.

"Don't vant to be overheard," said Krum shortly.

When at last they had reached a quiet stretch of ground a short way from the Beauxbatons horses' paddock, Krum stopped in the shade of the trees and turned to face Blair. "I vant to know," he said, glowering, "vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny and the Potter boy."

Blair scowled at him. "Why?"

Krum glowered at her, and Blair sighed before elaborating. "I'm in love with her. But she's not my girlfriend. At least not yet. And Harry and Hermione are just friends. It's Hermione, alright? Godric, learn how to speak her name properly."

"Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often," said Krum, now glaring at Blair after her confession.

Blair glared back. "Yes, because we're friends, and like I said, I'm in love with her, but we're not together. Yet. I'm still hoping to get there."

Krum looked slightly happier at the thought that Blair and Hermione weren't together. Then, he looked at Blair. "You fly very vell. I vos votching at the first task."

Blair grinned and suddenly forgot what they were talking about a while ago. "Thanks, mate! I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really-"

But something moved behind Krum in the trees, and Blair, who had some experience of the sort of thing that lurked in the forest, instinctively grabbed Krum's arm and pulled him around.

"Vot is it?"

Blair reached for her wand and stared at the place where she'd seen movement. Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Blair didn't recognize him then she realized it was Mr. Crouch. He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see.

"Vosn't he a judge?" said Krum, staring at Mr. Crouch. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?"

Blair nodded, hesitated for a moment, then walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at her, but continued to talk to a nearby tree. "...and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve-"

"Mr. Crouch?" said Blair cautiously.

"...and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen... do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will-" Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees.

"Mr. Crouch?" Blair said loudly. "Are you all right?"

Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head. Blair looked around at Krum, who had followed her into the trees, and was looking down at Crouch in alarm. "Vot is wrong with him?"

"No idea," Blair muttered. "Listen, you'd better go and get someone —"

"Dumbledore!" gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out and seized a handful of Blair's robes, dragging her closer, though his eyes were staring over Blair's head. "I need... see... Dumbledore..."

"Okay," said Blair, "if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the —"

"I've done... stupid... thing..." Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must... tell... Dumbledore..."

"Get up, Mr. Crouch," said Blair loudly and clearly. "Get up, I'll take you to Professor Dumbledore!"

Mr. Crouch's eyes rolled forward onto Blair. "Who... you?" he whispered.

"I'm a student at the school," said Blair, looking around at Krum for some help, but Krum was hanging back, looking extremely nervous.

"You're not... his?" whispered Crouch, his mouth sagging.

"No," said Blair, without the faintest idea what Crouch was talking about.

"Dumbledore's?"

"That's right," said Blair.

Crouch was pulling her closer; Blair tried to loosen Crouch's grip on her robes, but it was too powerful. "Warn... Dumbledore..."

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let go of me," said Blair. "Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I'll get him..."

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge." Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed completely unaware that Blair was there, which surprised Blair so much she didn't notice that Crouch had released her.

"Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.s, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response..."

"You stay here with him!" Blair said to Krum. "I'll get Dumbledore, I'll be quicker, I know where his office is —"

"He is mad," said Krum doubtfully, staring down at Crouch, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently convinced it was Percy.

"Just stay with him," said Blair, starting to get up, but her movement seemed to trigger another abrupt change in Mr. Crouch, who seized him hard around the knees and pulled Blair back to the ground.

"Don't... leave... me!" he whispered, his eyes bulging again. "I... escaped... must warn... must tell... see Dumbledore... my fault... all my fault... Bertha... dead... all my fault... my son... my fault... tell Dumbledore... the weapon... Harry Potter... the Dark Lord... stronger... Harry Potter... the weapon..."

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!" said Blair. She looked furiously around at Krum. "Help me, will you?"

Looking extremely apprehensive, Krum moved forward and squatted down next to Mr. Crouch. "Just keep him here," said Blair, pulling herself free of Mr. Crouch. "I'll be back with Professor Dumbledore."

"Hurry, von't you?" Krum called after her as Blair sprinted away from the forest and up through the dark grounds. They were deserted; Bagman, Harry, and Fleur had disappeared.

Blair tore up the stone steps, through the oak front doors, and off up the marble staircase, toward the second floor. Five minutes later she was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor. "Sher — sherbet lemon!" she panted at it. The password had evidently changed, however, for the stone gargoyle did not spring to life and jump aside, but stood frozen, glaring at Blair malevolently.

"Move!" Blair shouted at it. "C'mon!"

But nothing at Hogwarts had ever moved just because she shouted at it; she knew it was no good. She looked up and down the dark corridor. Perhaps Dumbledore was in the staffroom? She started running as fast as she could toward the staircase — "WOOD!"

Blair skidded to a halt and looked around. Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned Blair back toward him. "What are you doing here, Wood?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" said Blair, running back up the corridor and skidding 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 —"

"What is this rubbish?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering. "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Crouch!" Blair 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, Wood," said Snape, his thin mouth curling into an unpleasant smile.

"I've got to tell Dumbledore!" Blair yelled.

"Didn't you hear me, Wood?" Blair could tell that Snape was enjoying himself.

"Look," said Blair 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 Blair and Snape.

"Professor!" Blair said, sidestepping Snape before Snape could speak, "Mr. Crouch is here — he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

Blair expected Dumbledore to ask questions, but to her relief, Dumbledore did nothing of the sort. "Lead the way," he said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind Blair, leaving Snape standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as ugly.

"What did Mr. Crouch say, Blair?" said Dumbledore as they walked swiftly down the marble staircase.

"Said he wants to warn you... said he's done something terrible... he mentioned his son... and Bertha Jorkins... and — and Voldemort... something about Voldemort getting stronger..."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, and he quickened his pace as they hurried out into the pitch-darkness.

"He's not acting normally," Blair said, hurrying along 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?" said Dumbledore sharply, and he began to take longer strides still, so that Blair was running to keep up. "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?"

"No," said Blair. "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?" said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

"Over here," said Blair, moving in front of Dumbledore, leading the way through the trees. She couldn't hear Crouch's voice anymore, but she knew where she was going.

"Viktor?" Blair shouted. No one answered.

"They were here," Blair said to Dumbledore. "They were definitely somewhere around here..."

"Lumos," Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up. Its narrow beam traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet.

Blair and Dumbledore hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch.

Blair crouched down beside Krum and checked his eyes. "Professor, he's been stunned." Dumbledore's half-moon glasses glittered in the wandlight as he peered around at the surrounding trees.

"Should I go and get someone?" said Blair. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," said Dumbledore swiftly. "Stay here." He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin.

Blair saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. "Your patronus is a Phoenix, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled for a moment. "Indeed, Blair. I heard yours is a lion, isn't it? A true Gryffindor at heart."

Then Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, "Rennervate."

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

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

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore said. The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Blair — what the — ?"

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

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here." Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. Blair smiled at the sight of him.

"Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker... what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch —"

"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply.

"Oh yeah... right y'are, Professor..." said Hagrid, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

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

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, and he sent Blair a smile. "Good work, Little B." Then he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest.

Neither Dumbledore nor Blair spoke again until they heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked pale and agitated. "What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum on the ground and Dumbledore and Blair beside him. "What's going on?"

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

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

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

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

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree. Blair didn't try tell him off because she was glaring at Karkaroff as well.

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

"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing. Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Kindly escort Blair back up to the castle, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply.

Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look. "Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster..."

"You will take Blair back to school, Hagrid," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Take her right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Blair — 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?"

"Umm, yes, Professor," said Blair, staring at him. She had been planning to send Pigwidgeon straight to Sirius, to tell him what had happened. Dumbledore just knew everything.

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

They marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and up toward the castle. "How dare he," Hagrid growled as they strode past the lake. "How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you two in the tournament in the firs' place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An' you!" Hagrid suddenly said angrily to Blair, who looked up at him, taken aback.

"What were yeh doin', wanderin' off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Blair! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn' he? Hasn' Moody taught yeh nothin'? 'Magine lettin' him lure yeh off on yer own —"

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

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

"You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime," Blair said, annoyed.

"Don' you talk ter me abou' her!" said Hagrid, and he looked quite frightening for a moment. 

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