d Hagrid, looking concerned.
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Hermione told him about the hate mail she had received that morning, and the
envelope full of bubotuber pus.
"Aaah, don worry," said Hagrid gendy, looking down at her. "I got some o' those
letters an all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou me mum. 'Yeh're a monster an yeh
should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an if you had any decency
you d jump in a lake.'"
"No!" said Hermione, looking shocked.
"Yeah," said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. "They're jus'
nutters, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the
fire."
"You missed a really good lesson," Harry told Hermione as they headed back
toward the castle. "They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"
Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked
thoroughly put out about something.
"What's the matter?" said Harry. "Wrong flavor?"
"No," said Ron shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"
"What gold?" said Harry.
"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup," said Ron. "The leprechaun
gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it
disappeared?"
Harry had to think for a moment before he realized what Ron was talking about.
"Oh . . ." he said, the memory coming back to him at last. "I dunno ... I never
noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"
They climbed the steps into the entrance hall and went into the Great Hall for
lunch.
"Must be nice," Ron said abruptly, when they had sat down and started serving
themselves roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. "To have so much money you don't
notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."
"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!" s aid Harry impatiently. "We all
did, remember?"
"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," Ron muttered. "I thought I was paying
you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."
"Forget it, all right?" said Harry.
Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, glaring at it. Then he said, "I
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hate being poor."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Neither of them really knew what to
say.
"It's rubbish," said Ron, still glaring down at his potato. "I don't blame Fred and
George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."
"Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," said Hermione brightly. Then,
when Ron continued to look gloomy, she said, "Come on, Ron, it could be worse.
At least your fingers aren't full of pus." Hermione was having a lot of difficulty
managing her knife and fork, her fingers were so stiff and swollen. "I hate that
Skeeter woman!" she burst out savagely. "I'll get her back for this if it's the last
thing I do!"
Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although
she followed Hagrid's advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill-wishers sent
Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at her for the
whole Hall to hear. Even those people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all
about the supposed Harry-Krum-Hermione triangle now. Harry was getting sick of
telling people that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend.
"It'll die down, though," he told Hermione, "if we just ignore it. ... People got
bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time
"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's
supposed to be banned from the grounds!" said Hermione angrily.
Hermione hung back in their next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to ask
Professor Moody something. The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody
had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were
nursing small injuries. Harry had such a bad case of Twitchy Ears, he had to hold
his hands clamped over them as he walked away from the class.
"Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione panted five
minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron in the entrance hall and pulling
Harrys hand away from one of his wiggling ears so that he could hear her. "Moody
says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges' table at the second task, or
anywhere near the lake!"
"Hermione, is there any point in telling you to drop this?" said Ron.
"No!" said Hermione stubbornly. "I want to know how she heard me talking to
Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrids mum!"
"Maybe she had you bugged," said Harry.
"Bugged?" said Ron blankly. "What. . . put fleas on her or something?"
Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment. Ron
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was fascinated, but Hermione interrupted them.
"Aren't you two ever going to read Hogwarts, A History^"
"What's the point?" said Ron. "You know it by heart, we can just ask you."
"All those substitutes for magic Muggles use - electricity, computers, and radar,
and all those things - they all go haywire around Hogwarts, there's too much magic
in the air. No, Rita's using magic to eavesdrop, she must be. ... If I could just find
out what it is ... ooh, if it's illegal, I'll have her ..."
"Haven't we got enough to worry about?" Ron asked her. "Do we have to start a
vendetta against Rita Skeeter as well?"
"I'm not asking you to help!" Hermione snapped. "I'll do it on my own!"
She marched back up the marble staircase without a backward glance. Harry was
quite sure she was going to the library.
"What's the betting she comes back with a box of / Hate Rita Skeeter badges?"
said Ron.
Hermione, however, did not ask Harry and Ron to help her pursue vengeance
against Rita Skeeter, for which they were both grateful, because their workload
was mounting ever higher in the days before the Easter holidays. Harry frankly
marveled at the fact that Hermione could research magical methods of
eavesdropping as well as everything else they had to do. He was working flat-out
just to get through all their homework, though he made a point of sending regular
food packages up to the cave in the mountain for Sirius; after last summer, Harry
had not forgotten what it felt like to be continually hungry. He enclosed notes to
Sirius, telling him that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and that they
were still waiting for an answer from Percy.
Hedwig didn't return until the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter was
enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Both Harrys and
Ron's were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermiones,
however, was smaller than a chicken egg. Her face fell when she saw it.
"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked
quietly.
"Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."
Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg.
"Don't you want to see what Percy's written?" Harry asked her hastily.
Percys letter was short and irritated.
As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved
break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen
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him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have
quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors.
Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter.
The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training
hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was the
third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which he needed to prepare,
but he still didn't know what he would have to do. Finally, in the last week of
May, Professor McGonagall held him back in Transfiguration.
"You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock. Potter," she
told him. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."
So at half past eight that night. Harry left Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor Tower
and went downstairs. As he crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from the
Hufflepuff common room.
"What d'you reckon it's going to be?" he asked Harry as they went together down
the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. "Fleur keeps going on about
underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."
"That wouldn't be too bad," said Harry, thinking that he would simply ask Hagrid
for a niffler to do the job for him.
They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap
in the stands, and walked out onto the field.
"What've they done to it?" Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead.
The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody
had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every
direction.
"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.
"Hello there!" called a cheery voice.
Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Harry
and Cedric made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed
at Harry as he came nearer. Her attitude toward him had changed completely since
he had saved her sister from the lake.
"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as Harry and Cedric climbed over
the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll
have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the lessthan-
happy expressions on Harrys and Cedric's faces, "you'll have your Quidditch
field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what
we're making here?"
No one spoke for a moment. Then -
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"Maze," grunted Krum.
"That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward.
The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to
touch it will receive full marks."
"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.
"There will be obstacles," said Bagman ha