Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

 

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 
The Weighing of the Wands 
When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, it took him a moment to remember why he felt so 
miserable and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled over him. He sat up and 
ripped back the curtains of his own four-poster, intending to talk to Ron, to force Ron to believe 
him - only to find that Ron’s bed was empty; he had obviously gone down to breakfast. 
Harry dressed and went down the spiral staircase into the common room. The moment he 
appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast broke into applause again. The prospect 
of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest of the Gryffindors, all treating him like 
some sort of hero, was not inviting; it was that, however, or stay here and allow himself to be 
cornered by the Creevey brothers, who were both beckoning frantically to him to join them. He 
walked resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found himself 
face-to-face with Hermione. 
“Hello,” she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. “I brought you 
this… Want to go for a walk?” 
“Good idea,” said Harry gratefully. 
They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and 
were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, 
reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their 
toast, as Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table 
the night before. 
To his immense relief, Hermione accepted his story without question. 
“Well, of course I knew you hadn’t entered yourself,” she said when he’d finished telling her 
about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. “The look on your face when Dumbledore read out 
your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody’s right, Harry… I don’t think 
any student could have done it… they’d never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over 
Dumbledore’s -” 
“Have you seen Ron?” Harry interrupted. 
Hermione hesitated. 
“Erm… yes… he was at breakfast,” she said. 
“Does he still think I entered myself?” 
“Well… no, I don’t think so… not really,” said Hermione awkwardly. 

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“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘not really’?” 
“Oh Harry, isn’t it obvious?” Hermione said despairingly. “He’s jealous!” 
“Jealous?” Harry said incredulously. “Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in 
front of the whole school, does he?” 
“Look,” said Hermione patiently, “it’s always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I 
know it’s not your fault,” she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. “I know 
you don’t ask for it… but - well - you know, Ron’s got all those brothers to compete against at 
home, and you’re his best friend, and you’re really famous - he’s always shunted to one side 
whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is 
just one time too many…
“Great,” said Harry bitterly. “Really great. Tell him from me I’ll swap any time he wants. Tell 
him from me he’s welcome to it… People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go…” 
“I’m not teiling him anything,” Hermione said shortly. “Tell him yourself. It’s the only way to 
sort this out.” 
“I’m not running around after him trying to make him grow up!” Harry said, so loudly that 
several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. “Maybe he’ll believe I’m not enjoying myself 
once I’ve got my neck broken or -” 
“That’s not funny,” said Hermione quietly. “That’s not funny at all.” She looked extremely 
anxious. “Harry, I’ve been thinking - you know what we’ve got to do, don’t you? Straight away, 
the moment we get back to the castle?” 
“Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -” 
“Write to Sirius. You’ve got to tell him what’s happened. He asked you to keep him posted on 
everything that’s going on at Hogwarts… It’s almost as if he expected something like this to 
happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me -” 
“Come off it,” said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn’t be overheard, but the 
grounds were quite deserted. “He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He’ll 
probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone’s entered me in the Triwizard 
Tournament -” 
“He’d want you to tell him,” said Hermione sternly. “He’s going to find out anyway.” 
“How?” 
“Harry, this isn’t going to be kept quiet,” said Hermione, very seriously. “This tournament’s 
famous, and you’re famous. I’ll be really surprised if there isn’t anything in the Daily Prophet 

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about you competing… You’re already in half the books about You-Know-Who, you know… 
and Sirius would rather hear it from you, I know he would.” 
“Okay, okay, I’ll write to him,” said Harry, throwing his last piece of toast into the lake. They 
both stood and watched it floating there for a moment, before a large tentacle rose out of the 
water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle. 
“Whose owl am I going to use?” Harry said as they climbed the stairs. “He told me not to use 
Hedwig again.” 
“Ask Ron if you can borrow -” 
“I’m not asking Ron for anything,” Harry said flatly. 
“Well, borrow one of the school owls, then, anyone can use them,” said Hermione.
They went up to the Owlery. Hermione gave Harry a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of 
ink, then strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Harry 
sat down against a wall and wrote his letter.