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

by J.K. Rowling

“This tournament’s famous, and you’re famous. I’ll be really surprised if there isn’t anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing. . . . You’re already in half the books about You-Know-Who, you know

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.

Dear Sirius, You told me to keep you posted on what’s happening at Hogwarts, so here goes — I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Triwizard Tournament’s happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don’t know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn’t. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff.

Hope you’re okay, and Buckbeak —

Harry thought even Professor Sprout seemed distant with him — but then, she was Head of Hufflepuff House.

“Furnunculus!”

“Densaugeo!”

my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter.”

Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations —

An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes —

Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our conversation turns to the parents he can barely remember.

“Enchantingly nasty,”

“I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat.”

The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard.”

“nine and a half inches . . . inflexible . . . rosewood . . . and containing . . . dear me . . .” “An ’air from ze ’ead of a veela,” said Fleur. “One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands

“Orchideous!”

Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn . . . must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches . . . ash . . . pleasantly springy.

hornbeam and dragon heartstring?” he shot at Krum, who nodded. “Rather thicker than one usually sees . . . quite rigid . . . ten and a quarter inches . . . Avis!

was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix.

He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia.

he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to talk to him or hit him, both seemed quite appealing

Harry — I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter, it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted — we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning on the 22nd of November? I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore’s nose. Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.

I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they’d be very proud of me if they could see me now. . . . Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I’m not ashamed to admit it. . . . I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they’re watching over me. . . .

Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.

“Bong-sewer,” said Hagrid,

for a split second, he thought he was seeing bonfires, and men darting around them — and then his mouth fell open. Dragons.

There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

“They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I’ve seen this Horntail do forty!”

“Stupefy!”

“This is a Hungarian Horntail,” said Charlie. “There’s a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one — a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray — and a Chinese Fireball, that’s the red.”

“We’ll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don’t know why . . . but I tell you this, I don’t envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end’s as dangerous as its front, look.” Charlie pointed toward the Horntail’s tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-colored spikes protruding along it every few inches.

“I didn’t dare tell Mum what he’s got to do for the first task; she’s already having kittens about him. . . .”

He didn’t know whether he was glad he’d seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now.

By the looks of it, the only champion who would be facing the unknown on Tuesday was Cedric.

Nearby, on a table, the Support Cedric Diggory! badges the Creeveys had been trying to improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read POTTER REALLY STINKS.

Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had.”

“Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins,” said Sirius grimly. “She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It’s not a good combination, Harry. I’d say she’d be very easy to lure into a trap.”

“‘Talon-clipping by charms . . . treating scale-rot . . .’

Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate . . .’

Men Who Love Dragons Too Much.

Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed.

Somehow, the knowledge that he would rather be here and facing a dragon than back on Privet Drive with Dudley was good to know; it made him feel slightly calmer.

“Diffindo!”

A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration

They want to beat Dumbledore. They’d like to prove he’s only human.”