"
Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out
Malfoy's voice.
"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I
wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."
"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An
Appraisal ofMagical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark
Arts."
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"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"
"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.
"Er - why not?" said Harry.
"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools.
Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can
steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.
"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same
size as Hogwarts -- how are you going to hide a great big castle?"
"But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that.. .
well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."
"Just you, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"
"It's bewitched," said Hermione. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a
moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT
ENTER, UNSAFE."
"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"
"Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms
on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it,
they'll have made it Unplottable -"
"Come again?"
"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"
"Er. . . if you say so," said Harry.
"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione
thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their
uniforms."
"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to
push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident... . Shame his mother
likes him. . . ."
The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was
so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch
trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of
Cauldron Cakes for them to share.
Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including
Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced,
extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable witch of a
grandmother. Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic
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seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" but
in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione,
growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The
Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Summoning
Charm.
Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as they relived the Cup
match.
"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded
amazing though."
"It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville. . .
He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature
figure of Viktor Krum.
"Oh wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand.
"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box -"
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."
Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle,
his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a
foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through
the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.
"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.
"Weasley. . . what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve
of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train,
the moldy lace cuff very obvious.
Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he
seized the sleeve and pulled.
"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing
Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I
mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety. . .
"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched
them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and
Goyle guffawed stupidly.
"So. . . going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family
name? There's money involved as well, you know. . . you'd be able to afford some
decent robes if you won. . . ."
"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.
109
'Are you going to enter?' Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never
miss a chance to show off, do you?"
"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily,
over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.
A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face
"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and
brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me
about it ages ago. . . heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always
associated with the top people at the Ministry. . . . Maybe your father's too junior
to know about it, Weasley. . . yes. . . they probably don't talk about important stuff
in front of him. . . ."
Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of
them disappeared.
Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind
them that the glass shattered.
"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered
"Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.
"Well.. . making it look like he knows everything and we don't.. . ." Ron snarled.
"Father's always associated with the top peopie at the Ministry.'. . . Dad could've
got a promotion any time... he just likes it where he is. . . ."
"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"
"Him! Get to me!? As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron
Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.
Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they
changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts
Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of
Hogsmeade station.
As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione
bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over
Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the
downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though
buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.
"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the
platform.
"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don'
drown!"
110
First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with
Hagrid.
"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione
fervently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of
the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for them outside the
station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of them,
the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long
procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward
Hogwarts Castle.
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CHAPTER TWELVE - THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping
drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a
gale. Leaning against the window, Harry could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its
many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain.
Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great
oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had
occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the
castle. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville jumped down from their carriage and
dashed up the steps too, looking up only when they were safely inside the
cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.
"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps
up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak - ARRGH!"
A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's
head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry,
just as a second water bomb dropped - narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at
Harry's feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks. People
all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out
of the line of fire. Harry looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them,
Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his
wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.
"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"
Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had
come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed
Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.
"Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -"
"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her
pointed hat and glaring