Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Harry Potter, #4)

by J.K. Rowling

Then he saw Mrs. Weasley and Bill standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him. “Surprise!” Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as he smiled broadly and walked over to them. “Thought we’d come and watch you, Harry!” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

“Crucio!” The air was suddenly full of Cedric’s yells. Horrified,

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah . . . we’ve helped each other out, haven’t we? We both got here. Let’s just take it together.” For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn’t believe his ears; then his face split in a grin. “You’re on,” he said. “Come here.”

“Avada Kedavra!” A blast of green light blazed through Harry’s eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and then it diminished; terrified of what he was about to see, he opened his stinging eyes. Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

“You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don’t you?”

the ghostly face of his mother. “Your father’s coming. . . .” she said quietly. “Hold on for your father. . . . It will be all right. . . . Hold on. . . .” And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort’s wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear. . .

“No,” said Moody slowly. “No, he didn’t. It was I who did that.” Harry heard, but didn’t believe. “No, you didn’t,” he said. “You didn’t do that . . . you can’t have done . . .” “I assure you I did,” said Moody,

He was looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody.

Sirius was standing there. His face was white and gaunt as it had been when he had escaped Azkaban. In one swift moment, he had crossed the room. “Harry, are you all right? I knew it — I knew something like this — what happened?” His hands shook as he helped Harry into a chair in front of the desk. “What happened?” he asked more urgently.

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.

“An old man,” Harry said, his throat still constricted. “Bertha Jorkins. And . . .” “Your parents?” said Dumbledore quietly. “Yes,” said Harry. Sirius’s grip on Harry’s shoulder was now so tight it was painful.

At this point, Harry found he could not continue. He looked around at Sirius and saw that he had his face in his hands.

You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!

When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned.

Very slowly — but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill — Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin,

“You’ll see me very soon, Harry,” said Sirius, turning to him. “I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don’t you?” “Yeah,” said Harry. “Yeah . . . of course I do.” Sirius grasped his hand briefly,

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .” “I am,” said Snape.

Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her. His mother’s face, his father’s voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him.

“What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does.

Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

“You’ve picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts?

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. He, Ron, and Hermione were on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so. “Thought we’d see what those three were up to,” said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside.

“Listen,” said Harry firmly. “If you don’t take it, I’m throwing it down the drain. I don’t want it and I don’t need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need them more than usual before long.”