Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

partner, Potter.” 
“But-I don’t-” 
“You heard me, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way.
A week ago Harry would have said finding a partner for a dance would be a cinch compared to 
taking on a Hungarian Horntail. But now that he had done the latter, and was facing the prospect 
of asking a girl to the ball, he thought he’d rather have another round with the dragon. 
Harry had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for 
Christmas; he always did, of course, because the alternative was usually going back to Privet 

---

Drive, but he had always been very much in the minority before now. This year, however, 
everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to Harry to be 
obsessed with the coming ball - or at least all the girls were, and it was amazing how many girls 
Hogwarts suddenly seemed to hold; he had never quite noticed that before. Girls giggling and 
whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly 
comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night…
“Why do they have to move in packs?” Harry asked Ron as a dozen or so girls walked past them, 
sniggering and staring at Harry. “How’re you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?” 
“Lasso one?” Ron suggested. “Got any idea who you’re going to try?” 
Harry didn’t answer. He knew perfectly well whom he’d like to ask, but working up the nerve 
was something else… Cho was a year older than he was; she was very pretty; she was a very 
good Quidditch player, and she was also very popular. Ron seemed to know what was going on 
inside Harry’s head. 
“Listen, you’re not going to have any trouble. You’re a champion. You’ve just beaten a 
Hungarian Horntail. I bet they’ll be queuing up to go with you.”
In tribute to their recently repaired friendship, Ron had kept the bitterness in his voice to a bare 
minimum. Moreover, to Harry’s amazement, he turned out to be quite right. 
A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl to whom Harry had never spoken in his life asked him 
to go to the ball with her the very next day. Harry was so taken aback he said no before he’d 
even stopped to consider the matter. The girl walked off looking rather hurt, and Harry had to 
endure Dean’s, Seamus’s, and Ron’s taunts about her all through History of Magic. The 
following day, two more girls asked him, a second year and (to his horror) a fifth year who 
looked as though she might knock him out if he refused. 
“She was quite good-looking,” said Ron fairly, after he’d stopped laughing.
“She was a foot taller than me,” said Harry, still unnerved. “Imagine what I’d look like trying to 
dance with her.” 
Hermione’s words about Krum kept coming back to him. “They only like him because he’s 
famous!” Harry doubted very much if any of the girls who had asked to be his partner so far 
would have wanted to go to the ball with him if he hadn’t been a school champion. Then he 
wondered if this would bother him if Cho asked him. 
On the whole, Harry had to admit that even with the embarrassing prospect of opening the ball 
before him, life had definitely improved since he had got through the first task. He wasn’t 
attracting nearly as much unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which he suspected had a lot 
to do with Cedric - he had an idea Cedric might have told the Hufflepuffs to leave Harry alone, 
in gratitude for Harry’s tipoff about the dragons. There seemed to be fewer Support Cedric 
Diggory! badges around too. Draco Malfoy, of course, was still quoting Rita Skeeter’s article to 

---

him at every possible opportunity, but he was getting fewer and fewer laughs out of it - and just 
to heighten Harry’s feeling of well-being, no story about Hagrid had appeared in the Daily 
Prophet. 
“She didn’ seem very int’rested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth,” Hagrid said, when 
Harry, Ron, and Hermione asked him how his interview with Rita Skeeter had gone during the 
last Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term. To their very great relief, Hagrid had given up 
on direct contact with the skrewts now, and they were merely sheltering behind his cabin today, 
sitting at a trestle table and preparing a fresh selection of food with which to tempt the skrewts. 
“She jus’ wanted me ter talk about you, Harry,” Hagrid continued in a low voice. “Well, I told 
her we’d been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys. ‘Never had to tell him off in 
four years?’ she said. ‘Never played you up in lessons, has he?’ I told her no, an she didn’ seem 
happy at all. Yeh’d think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible, Harry.” 
“‘Course she did,” said Harry, throwing lumps of dragon liver into a large metal bowl and 
picking up his knife to cut some more. “She can’t keep writing about what a tragic little hero I 
am, it’ll get boring.” 
“She wants a new angle, Hagrid,” said Ron wisely as he shelled salamander eggs. “You were 
supposed to say Harry’s a mad delinquent!” 
“But he’s not!” said Hagrid, looking genuinely shocked. 
“She should’ve interviewed Snape,” said Harry grimly. “He’d give her the goods on me any day. 
‘Potter has been crossing lines ever since he first arrived at this school… ’” 
“Said that, did he?” said Hagrid, while Ron and Hermione laughed. “Well, yeh might’ve bent a 
few rules. Harry, bu’ yeh’re all righ’ really, aren’ you?” 
“Cheers, Hagrid,” said Harry, grinning. 
“You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, Hagrid?” said Ron. 
“Though’ I might look in on it, yeah,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Should be a good do, I reckon. 
You’ll be openin the dancin’, won yeh, Harry? Who’re you takin’?” 
“No one, yet,” said Harry, feeling himself going red again. Hagrid didn’t pursue the subject. 
The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule 
Ball were flying everywhere, though Harry didn’t believe half of them - for instance, that 
Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed 
to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly who or what the Weird Sisters 
were Harry didn’t know, never having had access to a wizard’s wireless, but he deduced from the 
wild excitement of those who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless 
Network) that they were a very famous musical group.

---

Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their 
minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday, 
and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during 
the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would 
ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin 
rebellions - as Binns hadn’t let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they 
supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn’t going to put him off. It was amazing how he could 
make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as Percy’s cauldron-bottom report. 
Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes 
too, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. 
Staring nastily around at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison 
antidotes during the last lesson of the term. 
“Evil, he is,” Ron said bitterly that night in the Gryffindor common room. “Springing a test on us 
on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying.” 
“Mmm… you’re not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?” said Hermione, looking at him 
over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap 
pack - a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the 
whole thing would blow up at any second. 
“It’s Christmas, Hermione,” said Harry lazily; he was rereading Flying with the Cannons for the 
tenth time in an armchair near the fire. Hermione looked severely over at him too. 
“I’d have thought you’d be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don’t want to learn 
your antidotes!” 
“Like what?” Harry said as he watched Joey Jenkins of the Cannons belt a Bludger toward a 
Ballycastle Bats Chaser. 
“That egg!” Hermione hissed. 
“Come on, Hermione, I’ve got till February the twenty-fourth,” Harry said.
He had put the golden egg upstairs in his trunk and hadn’t opened it since the celebration party 
after the first task. There were still two and a half months to go until he needed to know what all 
the screechy wailing meant, after all.
“But it might take weeks to work it out!” said Hermione. “You’re going to look a real idiot if 
everyone else knows what the next task is and you don’t!” 
“Leave him alone, Hermione, he’s earned a bit of a break,” said Ron, and he placed the last two 
cards on top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows. 
“Nice look Ron… go well with your dress robes, that will.” 

---

It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Ron felt 
how much damage had been done. 
“Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked. 
“No, he’s off delivering a letter,” said Ron. “Why?” 
“Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said Fred sarcastically. 
“Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat,” said George. 
“Who d’you two keep writing to, eh?” said Ron. 
“Nose out, Ron, or I’ll burn that for you too,” said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. “So… 
you lot got dates for the ball yet?” 
“Nope,” said Ron. 
“Well, you’d better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone,” said Fred. 
“Who’re you going with, then?” said Ron. 
“Angelina,” said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment. 
“What?” said Ron, taken aback. “You’ve already asked her?” 
“Good point,” said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, “Oy! 
Angelina!” 
Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him. 
“What?” she called back. 
“Want to come to the ball with me?” 
Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look. 
“All right, then,” she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a 
grin on her face. 
“There you go,” said Fred to Harry and Ron, “piece of cake.” 
He got to his feet, yawning, and said, “We’d better use a school owl then, George, come on…” 
They left. Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card 
castle at Harry. 

---

“We should get a move on, you know… ask someone. He’s right. We don’t want to end up with 
a pair of trolls.” 
Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. 
“A pair of… what, excuse me?” 
“Well - you know,” said Ron, shrugging. “I’d rather go alone than with – with Eloise Midgen, 
say.” 
“Her acne’s loads better lately - and she’s really nice!” 
“Her nose is off-center,” said Ron. 
“Oh I see,” Hermione said, bristling. “So basically, you’re going to take the best looking girl 
who’ll have you, even if she’s completely horrible?” 
“Er - yeah, that sounds about right,” said Ron. 
“I’m going to bed,” Hermione snapped, and she swept off toward the girls’ staircase without 
another word. 
The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons 
and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the 
decorations went up. Harry noticed that they were the most stunning he had yet seen inside the 
school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual 
twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly 
berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols 
whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear “O Come, All Ye Faithful” sung 
by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to 
extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the 
songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude. 
And still Harry hadn’t asked Cho to the ball. He and Ron were getting very nervous now, though 
as Harry pointed out, Ron would look much less stupid than he would without a partner; Harry 
was supposed to be starting the dancing with the other champions.
“I suppose there’s always Moaning Myrtle,” he said gloomily, referring to the ghost who haunted 
the girls’ toilets on the second floor. 
“Harry - we’ve just got to grit our teeth and do it,” said Ron on Friday morning, in a tone that 
suggested they were planning the storming of an impregnable fortress. 
“When we get back to the common room tonight, we’ll both have partners - agreed?” 
“Er… okay,” said Harry. 

---

But every time he glimpsed Cho that day - during break, and then lunchtime, and once on the 
way to History of Magic - she was surrounded by friends. Didn’t she ever go anywhere alone? 
Could he perhaps ambush her as she was going into a bathroom? But no - she even seemed to go 
there with an escort of four or five girls. Yet if he didn’t do it soon, she was bound to have been 
asked by somebody else. 
He found it hard to concentrate on Snape’s Potions test, and consequently forgot to add the key 
ingredient - a bezoar - meaning that he received bottom marks. He didn’t care, though; he was 
too busy screwing up his courage for what he was about to do. When the bell rang, he grabbed 
his bag, and hurried to the dungeon door. 
“I’ll meet you at dinner,” he said to Ron and Hermione, and he dashed off upstairs. 
He’d just have to ask Cho for a private word, that was all… He hurried off through the packed 
corridors looking for her, and (rather sooner than he had expected) he found her, emerging from 
a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
“Er - Cho? Could I have a word with you?” 
Giggling should be made illegal Harry thought furiously, as all the girls around Cho started 
doing it. She didn’t, though. She said, “Okay,” and followed him out of earshot other classmates. 
Harry turned to look at her and his stomach gave a weird lurch as though he had missed a step 
going downstairs. 
“Er,” he said. 
He couldn’t ask her. He couldn’t. But he had to. Cho stood there looking puzzled, watching him. 
The words came out before Harry had quite got his tongue around them. 
“Wangoballwime?” 
“Sorry?” said Cho. 
“D’you - d’you want to go to the ball with me?” said Harry. Why did he have to go red now? 
Why? 
“Oh!” said Cho, and she went red too. “Oh Harry, I’m really sorry,” and she truly looked it. “I’ve 
already said I’ll go with someone else.” 
“Oh,” said Harry. 
It was odd; a moment before his insides had been writhing like snakes, but suddenly he didn’t 
seem to have any insides at all. 
“Oh okay,” he said, “no problem.” 

---

“I’m really sorry,” she said again. 
“That’s okay,” said Harry. 
They stood there looking at each other, and then Cho said, “Well-” 
“Yeah,” said Harry. 
“Well, ‘bye,” said Cho, still very red. She walked away. 
Harry called after her, before he could stop himself. 
“Who’re you going with?” 
“Oh - Cedric,” she said. “Cedric Diggory.” 
“Oh right,” said Harry. 
His insides had come back again. It felt as though they had been filled with lead in their absence. 
Completely forgetting about dinner, he walked slowly back up to Gryffindor Tower, Cho’s voice 
echoing in his ears with every step he took. “Cedric – Cedric Diggory.” He had been starting to 
quite like Cedric - prepared to overlook the fact that he had once beaten him at Quidditch, and 
was handsome, and popular, and nearly everyone’s favorite champion. Now he suddenly realized 
that Cedric was in fact a useless pretty boy who didn’t have enough brains to fill an eggcup. 
“Fairy lights,” he said dully to the Fat Lady - the password had been changed the previous day. 
“Yes, indeed, dear!” she trilled, straightening her new tinsel hair band as she swung forward to 
admit him. 
Entering the common room, Harry looked around, and to his surprise he saw Ron sitting ashen-
faced in a distant corner. Ginny was sitting with him, talking to him in what seemed to be a low, 
soothing voice. 
“What’s up, Ron?” said Harry, joining them. 
Ron looked up at Harry, a sort of blind horror in his face. 
“Why did I do it?” he said wildly. “I don’t know what made me do it!
“What?” said Harry. 
“He - er - just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him,” said Ginny. She looked as 
though she was fighting back a smile, but she kept patting Ron’s arm sympathetically. 
“You what?’ said Harry. 

---

“I don’t know what made me do it!” Ron gasped again. “What was I playing at? There were 
people - all around - I’ve gone mad - everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the 
entrance hall - she was standing there talking to Diggory - and it sort of came over me - and I 
asked her!” 
Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely 
distinguishable. 
“She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn’t even answer. And then - I dunno - I 
just sort of came to my senses and ran for it.” 
“She’s part veela,” said Harry. “You were right - her grandmother was one. It wasn’t your fault, I 
bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it 
- but she was wasting her time. He’s going with Cho Chang.” 
Ron looked up. 
“I asked her to go with me just now,” Harry said dully, “and she told me.” 
Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling. 
“This is mad,” said Ron. “We’re the only ones left who haven’t got anyone - well, except 
Neville. Hey - guess who he asked? Hermione!” 
“What?” said Harry, completely distracted by this startling news. 
“Yeah, I know!” said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. 
“He told me after Potions! Said she’s always been really nice, helping him out with work and 
stuff - but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn’t want to 
go with Neville… I mean, who would?” 
“Don’t!” said Ginny, annoyed. “Don’t laugh -” 
Just then Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole. 
“Why weren’t you two at dinner?” she said, coming over to join them. 
“Because - oh shut up laughing, you two - because they’ve both just been turned down by girls 
they asked to the ball!” said Ginny. 
That shut Harry and Ron up. 
“Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” said Ron sourly. 
“All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” said Hermione loftily. “Eloise Midgen starting to look 
quite pretty now, is she? Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you.” 

---

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. 
“Hermione, Neville’s right - you are a girl…” 
“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly. 
“Well - you can come with one of us!” 
“No, I can’t,” snapped Hermione. 
“Oh come on,” he said impatiently, “we need partners, we’re going to look really stupid if we 
haven’t got any, everyone else has…” 
“I can’t come with you,” said Hermione, now blushing, “because I’m already going with 
someone.” 
“No, you’re not!” said Ron. “You just said that to get rid of Neville!” 
“Oh did I?” said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Just because it’s taken you three 
years to notice, Ron, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted I’m a girl!” 
Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again. 
“Okay, okay, we know you’re a girl,” he said. “That do? Will you come now?”
“I’ve already told you!” Hermione said very angrily. “I’m going with someone else!” 
And she stormed off toward the girls’ dormitories again. 
“She’s lying,” said Ron flatly, watching her go. 
“She’s not,” said Ginny quietly. 
“Who is it then?” said Ron sharply. 
“I’m not telling you, it’s her business,” said Ginny. 
“Right,” said Ron, who looked extremely put out, “this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with 
Harry, and I’ll just -” 
“I can’t,” said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. “I’m going with - with Neville. He asked me 
when Hermione said no, and I thought… well… I’m not going to be able to go otherwise, I’m 
not in fourth year.” She looked extremely miserable. “I think I’ll go and have dinner,” she said, 
and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed. 
Ron goggled at Harry. 

---

“What’s got into them?” he demanded. 
But Harry had just seen Parvati and Lavender come in through the portrait hole. The time had 
come for drastic action. 
“Wait here,” he said to Ron, and he stood up, walked straight up to Parvati, and said, “Parvati? 
Will you go to the ball with me?” 
Parvati went into a fit of giggles. Harry waited for them to subside, his fingers crossed in the 
pocket of his robes. 
“Yes, all right then,” she said finally, blushing furiously. 
“Thanks,” said Harry, in relief. “Lavender - will you go with Ron?” 
“She’s going with Seamus,” said Parvati, and the pair of them giggled harder than ever. 
Harry sighed. 
“Can’t you think of anyone who’d go with Ron?” he said, lowering his voice so that Ron 
wouldn’t hear. 
“What about Hermione Granger?” said Parvati. 
“She’s going with someone else.” 
Parvati looked astonished. 
“Ooooh - who?” she said keenly. 
Harry shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “So what about Ron?” 
“Well…” said Parvati slowly, “I suppose my sister might… Padma, you know… in Ravenclaw. 
I’ll ask her if you like.” 
“Yeah, that would be great,” said Harry. “Let me know, will you?” 
And he went back over to Ron, feeling that this ball was a lot more trouble than it was worth, and 
hoping very much that Padma Patil’s nose was dead center.