rily, glaring at Krum's sharp
profile. "They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him
if he couldn't do that WonkyFaint thing -"
"Wronski Feint," said Harry, through gritted teeth. Quite apart from liking to get
Quidditch terms correct, it caused him another pang to imagine Ron's expression if
he could have heard Hermione talking about Wonky-Faints.
It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give
anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. The days
until the first task seemed to slip by as though someone had fixed the clocks to
work at double speed. Harry's feeling of barely controlled panic was with him
wherever he went, as everpresent as the snide comments about the Daily Prophet
article.
On the Saturday before the first task, all students in the third year and above were
permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade. Hermione told Harry that it would do
him good to get away from the castle for a bit, and Harry didn't need much
persuasion.
"What about Ron, though?" he said. "Don't you want to go with him?"
"Oh. . . well.. ." Hermione went slightly pink. "I thought we might meet up with
him in the Three Broomsticks. . . ."
"No," said Harry flatly.
"Oh Harry, this is so stupid -"
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"I'll come, but I'm not meeting Ron, and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak."
"Oh all right then. . ." Hermione snapped, "but I hate talking to you in that cloak, I
never know if I'm looking at you or not."
So Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak in the dormitory, went back downstairs, and
together he and Hermione set off for Hogsmeade.
Harry felt wonderfully free under the cloak; he watched other students walking
past them as they entered the village, most of them sporting Support Cedric
Diggory! badges, but no horrible remarks came his way for a change, and nobody
was quoting that stupid article.
"People keep looking at me now," said Hermione grumpily as they came out of
Honeydukes Sweetshop later, eating large cream-filled chocolates. "They think I'm
talking to myself."
"Don't move your lips so much then."
"Come on, please just take off your cloak for a bit, no one's going to bother you
here."
"Oh yeah?" said Harry. "Look behind you."
Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had just emerged from the Three
Broomsticks pub. Talking in low voices, they passed right by Hermione without
hooking at her. Harry backed into the wall of Honeydukes to stop Rita Skeeter
from hitting him with her crocodile-skin handbag. When they were gone, Harry
said, "She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task."
As he said it, his stomach flooded with a wave of molten panic. He didn't mention
this; he and Hermione hadn't discussed what was coming in the first task much; he
had the feeling she didn't want to think about it.
"She's gone," said Hermione, looking right through Harry toward the end of the
street. "Why don't we go and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it's a bit
cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!" she added irritably, correctly
interpreting his silence.
The Three Broomsticks was packed, mainly with Hogwarts students enjoying their
free afternoon, but also with a variety of magical people Harry rarely saw
anywhere else. Harry supposed that as Hogsmeade was the only all-wizard village
in Britain, it was a bit of a haven for creatures like hags, who were not as adept as
wizards at disguising themselves.
It was very hard to move through crowds in the Invisibility Cloak, in case you
accidentally trod on someone, which tended to lead to awkward questions. Harry
edged slowly toward a spare table in the corner while Hermione went to buy
drinks. On his way through the pub, Harry spotted Ron, who was sitting with Fred,
George, and Lee Jordan. Resisting the urge to give Ron a good hard poke in the
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back of the head, he finally reached the table and sat down at it.
Hermione joined him a moment later and slipped him a butterbeer under his cloak.
"I look like such an idiot, sitting here on my own," she muttered. "Lucky I brought
something to do."
And she pulled out a notebook in which she had been keeping a record of
S.P.E.W. members. Harry saw his and Ron's names at the top of the very short list.
It seemed a long time ago that they had sat making up those predictions together,
and Hermione had turned up and appointed them secretary and treasurer.
"You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in
S.P.E.W.," Hermione said thoughtfully, looking around the pub.
"Yeah, right," said Harry. He took a swig of butterbeer under his cloak.
"Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?"
"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" she hissed back.
"You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you
get into the school kitchens?"
"No idea, ask Fred and George," said Harry.
Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, while Harry drank his butterbeer,
watching the people in the pub. All of them looked cheerful and relaxed. Ernie
Macmillan and Hannah Abbot were swapping Chocolate Frog cards at a nearby
table; both of them sporting Support Cedric Diggory! badges on their cloaks.
Right over by the door he saw Cho and a large group of her Ravenclaw friends.
She wasn't wearing a Cedric badge though. . . . This cheered up Harry very
slightly.
What wouldn't he have given to be one of these peophe, sitting around laughing
and talking, with nothing to worry about but homework? He imagined how it
would have felt to be here if his name hadn't come out of the Goblet of Fire. He
wouldn't be wearing the Invisibility Cloak, for one thing. Ron would be sitting
with him. The three of them would probably be happily imagining what deadly
dangerous task the school champions would be facing on Tuesday. He'd have been
really hooking forward to it, watching them do whatever it was...cheering on
Cedric with everyone else, safe in a seat at the back of the stands...
He wondered how the other champions were feeling. Every time he had seen
Cedric lately, he had been surrounded by admirers and looking nervous but
excited. Harry glimpsed Fleur Delacour from time to time in the corridors; she
looked exactly as she always did, haughty and unruffled. And Krum just sat in the
library, poring over books.
Harry thought of Sirius, and the tight, tense knot in his chest seemed to ease
slightly. He would be speaking to him in just over twelve hours, for tonight was
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the night they were meeting at the common room fire - assuming nothing went
wrong, as everything else had done lately...
"Look, it's Hagrid!" said Hermione.
The back of Hagrid's enormous shaggy head - he had mercifully abandoned his
bunches - emerged over the crowd. Harry wondered why he hadn't spotted him at
once, as Hagrid was so large, but standing up carefully, he saw that Hagrid had
been leaning low, talking to Professor Moody. Hagrid had his usual enormous
tankard in front of him, but Moody was drinking from his hip flask. Madam
Rosmerta, the pretty landlady, didn't seem to think much of this; she was looking
askance at Moody as she collected glasses from tables around them. Perhaps she
thought it was an insult to her mulled mead, but Harry knew better. Moody had
told them all during their last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that he
preferred to prepare his own food and drink at all times, as it was so easy for Dark
wizards to poison an unattended cup.
As Harry watched, he saw Hagrid and Moody get up to leave. He waved, then
remembered that Hagrid couldn't see him. Moody, however, paused, his magical
eye on the corner where Harry was standing. He tapped Hagrid in the small of the
back (being unable to reach his shoulder), muttered something to him, and then the
pair of them made their way back across the pub toward Harry and Hermione's
table.
"All right, Hermione?" said Hagrid loudly.
"Hello," said Hermione, smiling back.
Moody limped around the table and bent down; Harry thought he was reading the
S.P.E.W. notebook, until he muttered, "Nice cloak, Potter."
Harry stared at him in amazement. The large chunk missing from Moody's nose
was particularly obvious at a few inches' distance. Moody grinned.
"Can your eye - I mean, can you - ?"
"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And it's come
in useful at times, I can tell you."
Hagrid was beaming down at Harry too. Harry knew Hagrid couldn't see him, but
Moody had obviously told Hagrid he was there. Hagrid now bent down on the
pretext of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, and said in a whisper so low that
only Harry could hear it, "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear
that cloak."
Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, "Nice ter see yeh, Hermione," winked, and
departed. Moody followed him.
"Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?" Harry said, very surprised.
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"Does he?" said Hermione, looking startled. "I wonder what he's up to? I don't
know whether you should go, Harry. . . ." She looked nervously around and
hissed, "It might make you late for Sirius."
It was true that going down to Hagrid's at midnight would mean cutting his
meeting with Sirius very fine indeed; Hermione suggested sending Hedwig down
to Hagrid's to tell him he couldn't go - always assuming she would consent to take
the note, of course - Harry, however, thought it better just to be quick at whatever
Hagrid wanted him for. He was very curious to know what this might be; Hagrid
had never asked Harry to visit him so late at night.
At half past eleven that evening, Harry, who had pretended to go up to bed early,
pulled the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and crept back downstairs through
the common room. Quite a few people were still in there. The Creevey brothers
had managed to get hold of a stack of