Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire



Yüklə 1,61 Mb.
Pdf görüntüsü
səhifə40/62
tarix13.12.2023
ölçüsü1,61 Mb.
#174604
1   ...   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   ...   62
[ @miltonbooks ] Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Come seek us where our voices sound, 
 
We cannot sing above the ground, 
 
And while you re searching, ponder this: 
 
We

ve taken what you

ll sorely miss, 
 
An hour long you

ll have to look, 
 
And to recover what we took, 


But past an hour- the prospect

s black, 
 
Too late, it

s gone, it won

t come back

 
Harry let himself float back upward and broke the bubbly surface, shaking his hair out of his 
eyes. 
“Hear it?” said Myrtle. 
“Yeah… ‘Come seek us where our voices sound… ’ and if I need persuading… hang on, I need 
to listen again…” He sank back beneath the water. It took three more underwater renditions of 
the egg’s song before Harry had it memorized; then he trod water for a while, thinking hard, 
while Myrtle sat and watched him. 
“I’ve got to go and look for people who can’t use their voices above the ground…” he said 
slowly. “Er… who could that be?” 
“Slow, aren’t you?” 
He had never seen Moaning Myrtle so cheerful, apart from the day when a dose of PolyJuice 
Potion had given Hermione the hairy face and tail of a cat. Harry stared around the bathroom, 
thinking… if the voices could only be heard underwater, then it made sense for them to belong to 
underwater creatures. He ran this theory past Myrtle, who smirked at him. 
“Well, thats what Diggory thought,” she said. “He lay there talking to himself for ages about it. 
Ages and ages… nearly all the bubbles had gone…” 
“Underwater…” Harry said slowly. “Myrtle… what lives in the lake, apart from the giant 
squid?” 
“Oh all sorts,” she said. “I sometimes go down there… sometimes don’t have any choice, if 
someone flushes my toilet when I’m not expecting it…” 
Trying not to think about Moaning Myrtle zooming down a pipe to the lake with the contents of 
a toilet. Harry said, “Well, does anything in there have a human voice? Hang on -” 
Harry’s eyes had fallen on the picture of the snoozing mermaid on the wall.
“Myrtle, there aren’t merpeople in there, are there?” 
“Oooh, very good,” she said, her thick glasses twinkling, “it took Diggory much longer than that! 
And that was with her awake too” - Myrtle jerked her head toward the mermaid with an 
expression of great dislike on her glum face - “giggling and showing off and flashing her fins…” 
“Thats it, isn’t it?” said Harry excitedly. “The second tasks to go and find the merpeople in the 
lake and… and…” 


But he suddenly realized what he was saying, and he felt the excitement drain out of him as 
though someone had just pulled a plug in his stomach. He wasn’t a very good swimmer; he’d 
never had much practice. Dudley had had lessons in his youth, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle 
Vernon, no doubt hoping that Harry would drown one day, hadn’t bothered to give him any. A 
couple of lengths of this bath were all very well, but that lake was very large, and very deep… 
and merpeople would surely live right at the bottom…
“Myrtle,” Harry said slowly, “how am I supposed to breathe?” 
At this, Myrtle’s eyes filled with sudden tears again. 
“Tactless!” she muttered, groping in her robes for a handkerchief. 
“What’s tactless?” said Harry, bewildered. 
“Talking about breathing in front of me!” she said shrilly, and her voice echoed loudly around 
the bathroom. “When I can’t… when I haven’t… not for ages…” 
She buried her face in her handkerchief and sniffed loudly. Harry remembered how touchy 
Myrtle had always been about being dead, but none of the other ghosts he knew made such a fuss 
about it. 
“Sorry,” he said impatiently. “I didn’t mean - I just forgot…” 
“Oh yes, very easy to forget Myrtle’s dead,” said Myrtle, gulping, looking at him out of swollen 
eyes. “Nobody missed me even when I was alive. Took them hours and hours to find my body - I 
know, I was sitting there waiting for them. Olive Hornby came into the bathroom – ‘Are you in 
here again, sulking, Myrtle?’ she said, ‘because Professor Dippet asked me to look for you -’ 
And then she saw my body… ooooh, she didn’t forget it until her dying day, I made sure of 
that… followed her around and reminded her, I did. I remember at her brother’s wedding -” 
But Harry wasn’t listening; he was thinking about the merpeople’s song again.
“We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss.” That sounded as though they were going to steal 
something of his, something he had to get back. What were they going to take?
“—and then, of course, she went to the Ministry of Magic to stop me stalking her, so I had to 
come back here and live in my toilet.” 
“Good,” said Harry vaguely. “Well, I’m a lot further on than I was… Shut your eyes again, will 
you? I’m getting out.” 
He retrieved the egg from the bottom of the bath, climbed out, dried himself, and pulled on his 
pajamas and dressing gown again. 


“Will you come and visit me in my bathroom again sometime?” Moaning Myrtle asked 
mournfully as Harry picked up the Invisibility Cloak. 
“Er… I’ll try,” Harry said, though privately thinking the only way he’d be visiting Myrtle’s 
bathroom again was if every other toilet in the castle got blocked. “See you. Myrtle… thanks for 
your help.” 
“Bye, ‘bye,” she said gloomily, and as Harry put on the Invisibllity Cloak he saw her zoom back 
up the tap. 
Out in the dark corridor, Harry examined the Marauders Map to check that the coast was still 
clear. Yes, the dots belonging to Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, were safely in their office… 
nothing else seemed to be moving apart from Peeves, though he was bouncing around the trophy 
room on the floor above… Harry had taken his first step back toward Gryffindor Tower when 
something else on the map caught his eye… something distinctly odd. 
Peeves was not the only thing that was moving. A single dot was flitting around a room in the 
bottom left-hand corner - Snapes office. But the dot wasn’t labeled “Severus Snape”… it was 
Bartemius Crouch. Harry stared at the dot. Mr. Crouch was supposed to be too ill to go to work 
or to come to the Yule Ball - so what was he doing, sneaking into Hogwarts at one o’clock in the 
morning? Harry watched closely as the dot moved around and around the room, pausing here and 
there…
Harry hesitated, thinking… and then his curiosity got the better of him. He turned and set off in 
the opposite direction toward the nearest staircase. He was going to see what Crouch was up to. 
Harry walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, though the faces in some of the portraits still 
turned curiously at the squeak of a floorboard, the rustle of his pajamas. He crept along the 
corridor below, pushed aside a tapestry about halfway along, and proceeded down a narrower 
staircase, a shortcut that would take him down two floors. He kept glancing down at the map, 
wondering… It just didn’t seem in character, somehow, for correct, law-abiding Mr. Crouch to 
be sneaking around somebody else’s office this late at night…
And then, halfway down the staircase, not thinking about what he was doing, not concentrating 
on anything but the peculiar behavior of Mr. Crouch, Harrys leg suddenly sank right through the 
trick step Neville always forgot to jump. He gave an ungainly wobble, and the golden egg, still 
damp from the bath, slipped from under his arm. He lurched forward to try and catch it, but too 
late; the egg fell down the long staircase with a bang as loud as a bass drum on every step - the 
Invisibility Cloak slipped - Harry snatched at it, and the Marauder s Map fluttered out of his hand 
and slid down six stairs, where, sunk in the step to above his knee, he couldn’t reach it. 
The golden egg fell through the tapestry at the bottom of the staircase, burst open, and began 
wailing loudly in the corridor below. Harry pulled out his wand and struggled to touch the 
Marauder s Map, to wipe it blank, but it was too far away to reach – 


Pulling the cloak back over himself Harry straightened up, listening hard with his eyes screwed 
up with fear… and, almost immediately – 
“PEEVES!” 
It was the unmistakable hunting cry of Filch the caretaker. Harry could hear his rapid, shuffling 
footsteps coming nearer and nearer, his wheezy voice raised in fury. 
“What’s this racket? Wake up the whole castle, will you? I’ll have you, Peeves, I’ll have you, 
you’ll… and what is this?” 
Filch’s footsteps halted; there was a clink of metal on metal and the wailing stopped - Filch had 
picked up the egg and closed it. Harry stood very still, one leg still Jammed tightly in the magical 
step, listening. Any moment now, Filch was going to pull aside the tapestry, expecting to see 
Peeves… and there would be no Peeves… but if he came up the stairs, he would spot the 
Marauder’s Map… and Invisibility Cloak or not, the map would show “Harry Potter” standing 
exactly where he was. 
“Egg?” Filch said quietly at the foot of the stairs. “My sweet!” - Mrs. Norris was obviously with 
him - “This is a Triwizard clue! This belongs to a school champion!” 
Harry felt sick; his heart was hammering very fast - 
“PEEVES!” Filch roared gleefully. “You’ve been stealing!” 
He ripped back the tapestry below, and Harry saw his horrible, pouchy face and bulging, pale 
eyes staring up the dark and (to Filch) deserted staircase.
“Hiding, are you?” he said softly. “I’m coming to get you, Peeves… You’ve gone and stolen a 
Triwizard clue, Peeves… Dumbledore’ll have you out of here for this, you filthy, pilfering 
poltergeist…” 
Filch started to climb the stairs, his scrawny, dust-colored cat at his heels. Mrs. Morris’s lamp-
like eyes, so very like her masters, were fixed directly upon Harry. He had had occasion before 
now to wonder whether the Invisibility Cloak worked on cats… Sick with apprehension, he 
watched Filch drawing nearer and nearer in his old flannel dressing gown - he tried desperately 
to pull his trapped leg free, but it merely sank a few more inches - any second now, Filch was 
going to spot the map or walk right into him - 
“Filch? Whats going on?” 
Filch stopped a few steps below Harry and turned. At the foot of the stairs stood the only person 
who could make Harry’s situation worse: Snape. He was wearing a long gray nightshirt and he 
looked livid. 
“It’s Peeves, Professor,” Filch whispered malevolently. “He threw this egg down the stairs.” 


Snape climbed up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Filch. Harry gritted his teeth, convinced 
his loudly thumping heart would give him away at any second…
“Peeves?” said Snape softly, staring at the egg in Filch’s hands. “But Peeves couldn’t get into my 
office…” 
“This egg was in your office. Professor?” 
“Of course not,” Snape snapped. “I heard banging and wailing -” 
“Yes, Professor, that was the egg -” 
“- I was coming to investigate -” 
“- Peeves threw it. Professor -” 
“- and when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a cupboard door was ajar! 
Somebody has been searching it!” 
“But Peeves couldn’t -” 
“I know he couldn’t, Filch!” Snape snapped again. “I seal my office with a spell none but a 
wizard could break!” Snape looked up the stairs, straight through Harry, and then down into the 
corridor below. “I want you to come and help me search for the intruder, Filch.” 
“I - yes, Professor - but -” 
Filch looked yearningly up the stairs, right through Harry, who could see that he was very 
reluctant to forgo the chance of cornering Peeves. Go, Harry pleaded with him silently, go with 
Snape… go… Mrs. Norris was peering around Filch’s legs… Harry had the distinct impression 
that she could smell him… Why had he filled that bath with so much perfumed foam? 
“The thing is, Professor,” said Filch plaintively, “the headmaster will have to listen to me this 
time. Peeves has been stealing from a student, it might be my chance to get him thrown out of 
the castle once and for all -” 
“Filch, I don’t give a damn about that wretched poltergeist; it’s my office that’s -” Clunk. Clunk. 
Clunk. 
Snape stopped talking very abruptly. He and Filch both looked down at the foot of the stairs. 
Harry saw Mad-Eye Moody limp into sight through the narrow gap between their heads. Moody 
was wearing his old traveling cloak over his nightshirt and leaning on his staff as usual. 
“Pajama party, is it?” he growled up the stairs. 


“Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor,” said Filch at once. “Peeves the Poltergeist, 
throwing things around as usual - and then Professor Snape discovered that someone had broken 
into his off -” 
“Shut up!” Snape hissed to Filch. 
Moody took a step closer to the foot of the stairs. Harry saw Moodys magical eye travel over 
Snape, and then, unmistakably, onto himself. 
Harrys heart gave a horrible jolt. Moody could see through Invisibility Cloaks… he alone could 
see the full strangeness of the scene: Snape in his nightshirt, Filch clutching the egg, and he, 
Harry, trapped in the stairs behind them. Moody’s lopsided gash of a mouth opened in surprise. 
For a few seconds, he and Harry stared straight into each other’s eyes. Then Moody closed his 
mouth and turned his blue eye upon Snape again. 
“Did I hear that correctly, Snape?” he asked slowly. “Someone broke into your office?” 
“It is unimportant,” said Snape coldly.
“On the contrary,” growled Moody, “it is very important. Who’d want to break into your office?” 
“A student, I daresay,” said Snape. Harry could see a vein flickering horribly on Snape’s greasy 
temple. “It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store 
cupboard… students attempting illicit mixtures, no doubt…” 
“Reckon they were after potion ingredients, eh?” said Moody. “Not hiding anything else in your 
office, are you?” 
Harry saw the edge of Snapes sallow face turn a nasty brick color, the vein in his temple pulsing 
more rapidly. 
“You know I’m hiding nothing, Moody,” he said in a soft and dangerous voice, “as you’ve 
searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself.” 
Moodys face twisted into a smile. “Auror’s privilege, Snape. Dumbledore told me to keep an eye 
-” 
“Dumbledore happens to trust me,” said Snape through clenched teeth. “I refuse to believe that 
he gave you orders to search my office!” 
“Course Dumbledore trusts you,” growled Moody. “He’s a trusting man, isn’t he? Believes in 
second chances. But me - I say there are spots that don’t come off, Snape. Spots that never come 
off, d’you know what I mean?” 
Snape suddenly did something very strange. He seized his left forearm convulsively with his 
right hand, as though something on it had hurt him.


Moody laughed. “Get back to bed, Snape.” 
“You don’t have the authority to send me anywhere!” Snape hissed, letting go of his arm as 
though angry with himself. “I have as much right to prowl this school after dark as you do!” 
“Prowl away,” said Moody, but his voice was full of menace. “I look forward to meeting you in 
a dark corridor some time… You’ve dropped something, by the way…” 
With a stab of horror Harry saw Moody point at the Marauders Map, still lying on the staircase 
six steps below him. As Snape and Filch both turned to look at it, Harry threw caution to the 
winds; he raised his arms under the cloak and waved furiously at Moody to attract his attention, 
mouthing “It’s mine! Mine!” 
Snape had reached out for it, a horrible expression of dawning comprehension on his face - 
“Accio Parchment!” 
The map flew up into the air, slipped through Snapes outstretched fingers, and soared down the 
stairs into Moodys hand. 
“My mistake,” Moody said calmly. “It’s mine - must’ve dropped it earlier -”
But Snape’s black eyes were darting from the egg in Filch’s arms to the map in Moodys hand, 
and Harry could tell he was putting two and two together, as only Snape could…
“Potter,” he said quietly. 
“What’s that?” said Moody calmly, folding up the map and pocketing it. 
“Potter!” Snape snarled, and he actually turned his head and stared right at the place where Harry 
was, as though he could suddenly see him. “That egg is Potters egg. That piece of parchment 
belongs to Potter. I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here! Potter, in his Invisibility 
Cloak!” 
Snape stretched out his hands like a blind man and began to move up the stairs; Harry could have 
sworn his over-large nostrils were dilating, trying to sniff Harry out - trapped. Harry leaned 
backward, trying to avoid Snapes fingertips, but any moment now- 
“There’s nothing there, Snape!” barked Moody, “but I’ll be happy to tell the headmaster how 
quickly your mind jumped to Harry Potter!” 
“Meaning what?” Snape turned again to look at Moody, his hands still outstretched, inches from 
Harry’s chest. 
“Meaning that Dumbledore’s very interested to know who’s got it in for that boy!” said Moody, 
limping nearer still to the foot of the stairs. “And so am I, Snape… very interested…” The 


torchlight flickered across his mangled face, so that the scars, and the chunk missing from his 
nose, looked deeper and darker than ever. 
Snape was looking down at Moody, and Harry couldn’t see the expression on his face. For a 
moment, nobody moved or said anything. Then Snape slowly lowered his hands. 
“I merely thought,” said Snape, in a voice of forced calm, “that if Potter was wandering around 
after hours again… it’s an unfortunate habit of his… he should be stopped. For - for his own 
safety.”
“Ah, I see,” said Moody softly. “Got Potter’s best interests at heart, have you?” 
There was a pause. Snape and Moody were still staring at each other, Mrs. Norris gave a loud 
meow, still peering around Filch’s legs, looking for the source of Harry’s bubble-bath smell. 
“I think I will go back to bed,” Snape said curtly. 
“Best idea you’ve had all night,” said Moody. “Now, Filch, if you’ll just give me that egg-” 
“No!” said Filch, clutching the egg as though it were his firstborn son. “Professor Moody, this is 
evidence of Peeves’ treachery!” 
“It’s the property of the champion he stole it from,” said Moody. “Hand it over, now.” 
Snape swept downstairs and passed Moody without another word. Filch made a chirruping noise 
to Mrs. Norris, who stared blankly at Harry for a few more seconds before turning and following 
her master. Still breathing very fast. Harry heard Snape walking away down the corridor; Filch 
handed Moody the egg and disappeared from view too, muttering to Mrs. Norris. “Never mind 
my sweet… we’ll see Dumbledore in the morning… tell him what Peeves was up to…” 
A door slammed. Harry was left staring down at Moody, who placed his staff on the bottommost 
stair and started to climb laboriously toward him, a dull clunk on every other step. 
“Close shave Potter,” he muttered. 
“Yeah… I - er… thanks,” said Harry weakly. 
“What is this thing?” said Moody, drawing the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket and unfolding 
it. 
“Map of Hogwarts,” said Harry, hoping Moody was going to pull him out of the staircase soon; 
his leg was really hurting him. 
“Merlins beard,” Moody whispered, staring at the map, his magical eye going haywire. “This… 
this is some map. Potter!” 


“Yeah, it’s… quite useful,” Harry said. His eyes were starting to water from the pain. “Er - 
Professor Moody, d’you think you could help me -?” 
“What? Oh! Yes… yes, of course…” 
Moody took hold of Harrys arms and pulled; Harrys leg came free of the trick step, and he 
climbed onto the one above it. Moody was still gazing at the map. “Potter…” he said slowly, 
“you didn’t happen, by any chance, to see who broke into Snapes office, did you? On this map, I 
mean?” 
“Er… yeah, I did…” Harry admitted. “It was Mr. Crouch.” 
Moodys magical eye whizzed over the entire surface of the map. He looked suddenly alarmed. 
“Crouch?” he said. “You’re - you’re sure Potter?” 
“Positive,” said Harry. 
“Well, he’s not here anymore,” said Moody, his eye still whizzing over the map. “Crouch… 
that’s very - very interesting…” 
He said nothing for almost a minute, still staring at the map. Harry could tell that this news 
meant something to Moody and very much wanted to know what it was. He wondered whether 
he dared ask. Moody scared him slightly… yet Moody had just helped him avoid an awful lot of 
trouble…
“Er… Professor Moody… why d’you reckon Mr. Crouch wanted to look around Snapes office?” 
Moodys magical eye left the map and fixed, quivering, upon Harry. It was a penetrating glare, 
and Harry had the impression that Moody was sizing him up, wondering whether to answer or 
not, or how much to tell him. 
“Put it this way Potter,” Moody muttered finally, “they say old Mad-Eye’s obsessed with 
catching Dark wizards… but I’m nothing - nothing - compared to Barty Crouch.” 
He continued to stare at the map. Harry was burning to know more. 
“Professor Moody?” he said again. “D’you think… could this have anything to do with… maybe 
Mr. Crouch thinks there’s something going on…” 
“Like what?” said Moody sharply. 
Harry wondered how much he dare say. He didn’t want Moody to guess that he had a source of 
information outside Hogwarts; that might lead to tricky questions about Sirius. 


“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, “odd stuffs been happening lately, hasn’t it? It’s been in the 
Daily Prophet… the Dark Mark at the World Cup, and the Death Eaters and everything…” 
Both of Moody’s mismatched eyes widened. 
“You’re a sharp boy. Potter,” he said. His magical eye roved back to the Marauder’s Map.
“Crouch could be thinking along those lines,” he said slowly. “Very possible… there have been 
some funny rumors flying around lately - helped along by Rita Skeeter, of course. It’s making a 
lot of people nervous, I reckon.” A grim smile twisted his lopsided mouth. “Oh if there’s one 
thing I hate,” he muttered, more to himself than to Harry, and his magical eye was fixed on the 
left-hand corner of the map, “its a Death Eater who walked free…” 
Harry stared at him. Could Moody possibly mean what Harry thought he meant? 
“And now I want to ask you a question Potter,” said Moody in a more businesslike tone. 
Harrys heart sank; he had thought this was coming. Moody was going to ask where he had got 
this map, which was a very dubious magical object - and the story of how it had fallen into his 
hands incriminated not only him, but his own father, Fred and George Weasley, and Professor 
Lupin, their last Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Moody waved the map in front of Harry, 
who braced himself- 
“Can I borrow this?” 
“Oh!” said Harry. 
He was very fond of his map, but on the other hand, he was extremely relieved that Moody 
wasn’t asking where he’d got it, and there was no doubt that he owed Moody a favor. 
“Yeah, okay.” 
“Good boy,” growled Moody. “I can make good use of this… this might be exactly what I’ve 
been looking for… Right, bed, Potter, come on, now…” 
They climbed to the top of the stairs together, Moody still examining the map as though it was a 
treasure the like of which he had never seen before. They walked in silence to the door of 
Moody’s office, where he stopped and looked up at Harry. 
“You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Potter?” 
“No,” said Harry, taken aback. 
“You want to consider it,” said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry thoughtfully. “Yes, 
indeed… and incidentally… I’m guessing you werent just taking that egg for a walk tonight?” 
“Er - no,” said Harry, grinning. “I’ve been working out the clue.” 


Moody winked at him, his magical eye going haywire again. “Nothing like a nighttime stroll to 
give you ideas, Potter… See you in the morning…” 
He went back into his office, staring down at the Marauders Map again, and closed the door 
behind him. 
Harry walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, lost in thought about Snape, and Crouch, and 
what it all meant… Why was Crouch pretending to be ill, if he could manage to get to Hogwarts 
when he wanted to? What did he think Snape was concealing in his office? And Moody thought 
he. Harry, ought to be an Auror! Interesting idea… but somehow. Harry thought, as he got 
quietly into his four-poster ten minutes later, the egg and the cloak now safely back in his trunk, 
he thought he’d like to check how scarred the rest of them were before he chose it as a career. 

Yüklə 1,61 Mb.

Dostları ilə paylaş:
1   ...   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   ...   62




Verilənlər bazası müəlliflik hüququ ilə müdafiə olunur ©azkurs.org 2024
rəhbərliyinə müraciət

gir | qeydiyyatdan keç
    Ana səhifə


yükləyin