lt upright 
-- Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in 
his ear. 

"What did you do that for?" said Harry furiously. Peeves puffed out his 
cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the room, cackling. 

Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It was half past 
four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but 
it was very difficult, now that he was awake, to ignore the sounds of 
the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the 
castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden 
Forest. In a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch field, battling 
through that gale. Finally, he gave up any thought of more sleep, got 
up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out 
of the dormitory. 

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As Harry opened the door, something brushed against his leg. He bent 
down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his bushy tail and 
drag him outside. 

"You know, I reckon Ron was right about you," Harry told Crookshanks 
suspiciously. "There are plenty of mice around this place -- go and 
chase them. Go on," he added, nudging Crookshanks down the spiral 
staircase with his foot. "Leave Scabbers alone." 

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common roorn. Harry knew 
better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches 
weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms. Nevertheless, he was 
starting to feel very apprehensive. Wood had pointed out Cedric Diggory 
to him in the corridor; Diggory was a fifth year and a lot bigger than 
Harry. Seekers were usually light 

and speedy, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in this weather 
because he was less likely to be blown off course. 

Harry whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up 
every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up 

the boys, staircase again. At long last Harry thought it must be time 
for breakfast, so he headed through the portrait hole alone. 

"Stand and fight, you mangy cur!" yelled Sir Cadogan. 

"Oh, shut up," Harry yawned. 

He revived a bit over a large bowl of porridge, and by the time he'd 
started on toast, the rest of the team had turned up. 

"It's going to be a tough one," said Wood, who wasn't eating anything. 

"Stop worrying, Oliver," said Alicia soothingly, "we don't mind a bit of 
rain." 

But it was considerably more than a bit of rain. Such was the popularity 
of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as 
usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads 

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bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their 
hands as they went. just before he entered the locker room, Harry saw 
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughing and pointing at him from under an 
enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium. 

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual 
pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, 
made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned 
them to follow him. 

The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out 
onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over 
the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was splattering over Harry's glasses. 
How on earth was he going to see the Snitch in this? 

The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, 
wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to eacb other and 
shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood no, looked as though he had 
lockjaw and merely nodded. Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, 
"Mount Your brooms.,, He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a 
squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her 
whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant 
they were off 

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He 
held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain. 

Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able 
to see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew backward and 
forward across the field past blurred red and yellow shapes, with no 
idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. He couldn't hear the 
commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks 
and battered umbrellas. Twice Harry came very close to being unseated by 
a Bludger; his vision was so clouded by the rain on his glasses he 
hadn't seen them coming. 

He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his 
broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided 
to come early. Twice Harry nearly hit another player, without knowing 
whether it was a teammate or opponent; everyone was now so wet, and the 

145 



rain so thick, he could hardly tell them apart.... 

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's 
whistle; Harry could just see the outline of Wood through the thick 
rain, gesturing him to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the 
mud. 

"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at his team. "Come on, under here 
--" 

They huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry took 
off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes. 

"What's the score?" 

"We're fifty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, 
we'll be playing into the night." 

"I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his 
glasses. 

At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding 
her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming. 

"I've had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!" 

He handed them to her, and as the team watched in amazement, Hermione 
tapped them with her wand and said, "Impervius!" 

"There!" she said, handing them back to Harry. "They'll repel water!" 

Wood looked as though he could have kissed her. 

"Brilliant!" he called hoarsely after her as she disappeared into the 
crowd. "Okay, team, let's go for it!" 

Hermione's spell had done the trick. Harry was still numb with cold, 
still wetter than he'd ever been in his life, but he could see. Full of 
fresh determination, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, 
staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking 

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beneath Diggory, who was streaking in the opposite direction.... 

There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked 
lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get 
the Snitch quickly 


He turned, intending to head back toward the middle of the field, but at 
that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and 
Harry saw something that distracted him completely , the silhouette of 
an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, 
motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats. 

Harry's numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his Nimbus dropped a 
few feet. Shaking his sodden bangs out of his eyes, he squinted back 
into the stands. The dog had vanished. 

"Harry!" came Wood's anguished yell from the Gryffindor goal posts. 
"Harry, behind you!" 

Harry looked wildly around. Cedric Diggory was pelting up the field, and 
a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air between them 
-

With a jolt of panic, Harry threw himself flat to the broornhandle and 
zoomed toward the Snitch. 

"Come on!" he growled at his Nimbus as the rain whipped his face. 
'Taster!" 

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the 
stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It 
was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone 
suddenly deaf -- what was going on? 

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, 
just as he became aware of something moving on the field below... 

Before he'd had time to think, Harry had taken his eyes off the Snitch 
and looked down. 

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At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, 
were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water were rising 
in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again.... 
Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head... a woman... 

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" 
"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now...." 
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead --" 
Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain.... What was he 


doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her... She was going to 
die.... She was going to be murdered.... 
He was falling, falling through the icy mist. 


"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy.... 
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no 
more. 


"Lucky the ground was so soft." 
"I thought he was dead for sure." 
"But he didn't even break his glasses." 
Harry could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense 


whatsoever. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he'd got there, 
or what he'd been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every 
inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten. 

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life." 

Scariest... the scariest thing... hooded black figures... cold ... 
screaming... 
Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The 


Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was 


148 



gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were also there, looking as 


though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool. 
"Harry!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath, the mud. 
"How