Goblet Of Fire Hermione Quotes

Just because it’s taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!

Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?

Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light. “Hermione, Neville’s right — you are a girl. . . .” “Oh well spotted,” she said acidly.

Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you.

What’s that?” said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding. “Bouillabaisse,” said Hermione. “Bless you,” said Ron. “It’s French,” said Hermione.

You seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione. "Oh, am I?" said Ron peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff.

She’s a veela!” he said hoarsely to Harry. “Of course she isn’t!” said Hermione tartly. “I don’t see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!

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 Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs, and full of home-made toffee. Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken's egg. Her face fell when she saw it. "Your mum doesn't read Witch's 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.

This is mad,” said Ron. “We’re the only ones left who haven’t got anyone — well, except Neville. Hey — guess who he asked? Hermione!” “What?” said Harry, completely distracted by this startling news. “Yeah, I know!” said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. “He told me after Potions! Said she’s always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff — but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn’t want to go with Neville...I mean, who would?

We should get a move on you know... ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls." Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. "A pair of... what excuse me?" "Well - you know," said Ron shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with - with Eloise Midgen, say." "Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice." "Her nose's off-centre," said Ron. "Oh I see," Hermione said bristling. "So basically you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you even if she's completely horrible?" "Er - yeah that sounds about right." said Ron. "I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped and she swept off toward the girls' staircase without another word.

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.

There’s a way of doing it!” Hermione said crossly. “There just has to be!” She seemed to be taking the library’s lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.

Hermione, Harry and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door.

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...

It’s all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book’s not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School.” “What are you on about?” said Ron, though Harry thought he knew what was coming. “House-elves!” said Hermione, her eyes flashing. “Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!

Only a week away!” said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. “I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I’ll go and tell him. . . .” “Cedric?” said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off. “Diggory,” said Harry. “He must be entering the tournament.” “That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase. “He’s not an idiot. You just don’t like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,” said Hermione. “I’ve heard he’s a really good student — and he’s a prefect.” She spoke as though this settled the matter. “You only like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron scathingly. “Excuse me, I don’t like people just because they’re handsome!” said Hermione indignantly. Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like “Lockhart!

S-P-E-W!” said Hermione hotly. “I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status — but it wouldn’t fit. So that’s the heading of our manifesto.

Harry - I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is. I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open,Harry. Sirius Dear Sirius, I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting, I was half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There's no point coming back, everything's fine here. Don't worry about me, my head feels completely normal. Harry Nice try, Harry. I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls,and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself Don't forget what I said about your scar. Sirius

Well, if they’re any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won’t be able to handle them,” said Harry. “That’s if he hasn’t been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what’s up with them?” “Maybe they’ve escaped,” said Ron hopefully. “Oh don’t say that,” said Hermione with a shudder. “Imagine that lot loose on the grounds. …

Don't be stupid," Hermione snapped, starting to pound up her beetles again. "No,it's just. . . how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?" Hermione blushed scarlet as she said this and determinedly avoided Ron's eyes. "What?" said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk. "He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake," Hermione muttered. "After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to -" "And what did you say?" said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione. "And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," Hermione went on, going so red now that Harry could almost feel the heat coming from her, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there ... or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task. ..." "And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk.

Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive,” said Malfoy sarcastically. “Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?” “Just because they’re not very pretty, it doesn’t mean they’re not useful,” Hermione snapped. “Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you?

Not going to have a very good month, are you?” she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap. “Ah well, at least I’m forewarned,” Ron yawned. “You seem to be drowning twice,” said Hermione. “Oh am I?” said Ron, peering down at his predictions. “I’d better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff.” “Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these up?” said Hermione. “How dare you!” said Ron, in mock outrage. “We’ve been working like house-elves here!” Hermione raised her eyebrows. “It’s just an expression,” said Ron hastily.

Harry, Ron and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby them, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene on the campsite through a gap in the trees

What’re you doing here?' Ron and Fred said at the same time. ‘Sending a letter,' said Harry and George in unison. ‘What, at this time?' said Hermione and Fred. Fred grinned. ‘Fine—we won’t ask you what you’re doing, if you don’t ask us,' he said.

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her. “Er — is this the new stand on elf rights?” said Ron. “You’re going to make yourself puke instead?” “No,” said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. “I just want to get to the library.

That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase. "He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect." She spoke as though this settled the matter. "You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly. "Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly. Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!

I will say it again," said Dumbledore as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it - and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace . . . Sirius, would you like to stay with him?" Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing. When Dumbledore pushed open the door. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream. "Harry! Oh Harry!" She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them. "Molly," he said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me.What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening." Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!

Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other’s out of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety.

He’s from Durmstrang!” spat Ron. “He’s competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You — you’re —” Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione’s crime, “fraternizing with the enemy, that’s what you’re doing!” Hermione’s mouth fell open. “Don’t be so stupid!” she said after a moment. “The enemy! Honestly — who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who’s got a model of him up in their dormitory?

She’s unhappy!” said Hermione, exasperated. “Why don’t you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?

It’s people like you, Ron,” Hermione began hotly, “who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to —

For heaven’s sake, Ron, he’s only a Quidditch player,” said Hermione.

Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like “Boys.

Bouillabaisse,’ said Hermione. ‘Bless you,’ said Ron. ‘It’s French,’ said Hermione.

Slave labor,” said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. “That’s what made this dinner. Slave labor.” And she refused to eat another bite.

Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

Malfoy got Hermione!” Ron said. “Look!” He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth — she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape’s back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, “I see no difference.” Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!” said Hermione indignantly. “It’s slavery, that’s what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he’s got her bewitched so she can’t even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn’t anyone do something about it?” “Well, the elves are happy, aren’t they?” Ron said. “You heard old Winky back at the match . . . ‘House-elves is not supposed to have fun’ . . . that’s what she likes, being bossed around. . . .” “It’s people like you, Ron,” Hermione began hotly, “who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to —

Percy’s letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Both Harry’s and Ron’s were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione’s, 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.

Well, that won’t matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?” said Ron, grinning slyly at her. “You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up,” said Hermione. “As a matter of fact I think he’s right.

Forget it,” Harry said. Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back. Hermione burst into tears. “There’s nothing to cry about!” Harry told her, bewildered. “You two are so stupid!” she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, now positively howling. “Barking mad,” said Ron, shaking his head. “Harry, c’mon, they’ll be putting up your scores. 

Now, look here, Hermione!’ said Percy. ‘A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants –’ ‘His slave, you mean!’ said Hermione, her voice rising shrilly. ‘Because he didn’t pay Winky, did he?

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.

Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn’t the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches – perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill’s, but found he had too much hair. The look didn’t really suit Hagrid at all. For a moment, Hermione goggled at him, then, obviously deciding not to comment, she said, ‘Erm – where are the Skrewts?

He walked resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found himself face-to-face with Hermione. “Hello,” she said, holding up a stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. “I brought you this. . . . Want to go for a walk?

Don’t be a prat, Neville, that’s illegal,” said George. “They wouldn’t use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s in the shower, Harry.” “Want a jam tart, Hermione?” said Fred. Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned. “It’s all right,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch —” Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed. “Just my little joke, Neville. .

Well, if you don’t like it, you know what the solution is, don’t you?” yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger. “Oh yeah?” Ron yelled back. “What’s that?” “Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!

Well, the elves are happy, aren’t they?” Ron said. “You heard old Winky back at the match . . . ‘House-elves is not supposed to have fun’ . . . that’s what she likes, being bossed around. . . .” “It’s people like you, Ron,” Hermione began hotly, “who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to —

Hagrid!’ Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. ‘Hagrid, that’s enough! We know you’re in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can’t let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you’re just being –’ The door opened. Hermione said ‘About t–!’ and then stopped, very suddenly, because she had found herself face to face, not with Hagrid, but with Albus Dumbledore. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said pleasantly, smiling down at them. ‘We – er – we wanted to see Hagrid,’ said Hermione in a rather small voice. ‘Yes, I surmised as much,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. ‘Why don’t you come in?’ ‘Oh … um … OK,’ said Hermione.

Mmm … you’re not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?’ said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack – a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second. ‘It’s Christmas, Hermione,’ said Harry lazily; he was rereading Flying with the Cannons for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire.

She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Harry. "Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!" But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron. "I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!" "They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry without thinking. Cho happened to be sitting only a few places away from the girl with the silvery hair. "When you've both put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived.

But Aunt Petunia didn’t know what was hidden under the loose floorboard upstairs. She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help, and they had risen to the occasion magnificently. Hedwig had returned from Hermione’s house with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free snacks. (Hermione’s parents were dentists.) Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

Ron said nothing. He hadn’t mentioned Viktor Krum since the ball, but Harry had found a miniature arm under his bed on Boxing Day, which had looked very much as though it had been snapped off a small model figure wearing Bulgarian Quidditch robes. Harry kept his eyes skinned for a sign of Hagrid all the way down the slushy High Street, and suggested a visit to the Three Broomsticks once he had ascertained that Hagrid was not in any of the shops. The pub was as crowded as ever, but one quick look around at all the tables told Harry that Hagrid wasn’t there. Heart sinking, he went up to the bar with Ron and Hermione, ordered three butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta, and thought gloomily that he might just as well have stayed behind and listened to the egg wailing after all. “Doesn’t he ever go into the office?” Hermione whispered suddenly. “Look!” She pointed into the mirror behind the bar, and Harry saw Ludo Bagman reflected there, sitting in a shadowy corner with a bunch of goblins. Bagman was talking very fast in a low voice to the goblins, all of whom had their arms crossed and were looking rather menacing. It was indeed odd, Harry thought, that Bagman was here at the Three Broomsticks on a weekend when there was no Triwizard event, and therefore no judging to be done. He watched Bagman in the mirror. He was looking strained again, quite as strained as he had that night in the forest before the Dark Mark had appeared. But just then Bagman glanced over at the bar, saw Harry, and stood up. “In a moment, in a moment!” Harry heard him say brusquely to the goblins, and Bagman hurried through the pub toward Harry, his boyish grin back in place.

Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth. Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise. "Yeah, have it," said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl. "You 'ave finished wiz it?" "Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent." The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses. "She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Harry. "Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!" But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them had become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again.” Ron’s and Hermione’s reactions were almost exactly as Harry had imagined them back in his bedroom on Privet Drive. Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck. “But — he wasn’t there, was he?

Harry didn’t say anything. He liked being back on speaking terms with Ron too much to speak his mind right now — but he somehow thought that Hermione had gotten the point much better than Ron had.

Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: go straight to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. Harry stared out of the window at the inky, blue-black sky. He doubted very much whether a book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was the only living person to have survived a curse like Voldemort’s; it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he would find his symptoms listed in Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. As for informing the Headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full-length wizard’s robes and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion into his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry’s owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write?

Our short-term aims,” said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn’t heard a word, “are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they’re shockingly underrepresented.

What are you on about?” said Ron, though Harry thought he knew what was coming. “House-elves!” said Hermione, her eyes flashing. “Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts: A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!

Karkaroff turned and led his students towards the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry stopped to let him walk through first. ‘Thank you,’ said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him. And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry, and stared at him as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Behind their Headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt, too. Karkaroff’s eyes moved slowly up Harry’s face, and fixed upon his scar. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry, too. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry’s forehead. ‘Yeah,

Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione and Ginny. ‘All these yours, Arthur?’ ‘Oh, no, only the redheads,’ said Mr Weasley, pointing out his children. ‘This is Hermione, friend of Ron’s – and Harry, another friend –’ ‘Merlin’s beard,’ said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. ‘Harry? Harry Potter?’ ‘Er – yeah,’ said Harry. Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it always made him feel uncomfortable.

Ah – yes,’ said Mr Weasley, grinning, ‘this is my son, Percy, he’s just started at the Ministry – and this is Fred – no, George, sorry – that’s Fred – Bill, Charlie, Ron – my daughter, Ginny – and Ron’s friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.

What’s up, Harry?’ said Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you,’ Harry said. ‘On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again.’ Ron and Hermione’s reactions were almost exactly as Harry had imagined them back in his bedroom in Privet Drive. Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts matron. Ron simply looked dumbstruck. ‘But – he wasn’t there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean – last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn’t he?

Why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping, Ron?’ said Hermione from the doorway. ‘He knows where he’s sleeping,’ said Ron. ‘In my room, he slept there last –’ ‘We can all go,’ said Hermione, pointedly. ‘Oh,’ said Ron, cottoning on. ‘Right.’ ‘Yeah, we’ll come, too,’ said George – ‘You stay where you are!’ snarled Mrs Weasley.

Neville, are you all right?’ said Hermione. ‘Oh, yes, I’m fine,’ Neville gabbled, in the same unnaturally high voice. ‘Very interesting dinner – I mean lesson – what’s for eating?

He’s supposed to work out the clue on his own,’ Hermione said swiftly. ‘It’s in the Tournament rules …’ ‘I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own, too,’ Harry muttered, so only Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather guiltily.

You only like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron scathingly. “Excuse me, I don’t like people just because they’re handsome!” said Hermione indignantly.

Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he kept calling her “Hermy-own.

Her acne’s loads better lately – and she’s really nice!’ ‘Her nose is off-centre,’ said Ron. ‘Oh, I see,’ Hermione said, bristling. ‘So basically, you’re going to take the best-looking girl who’ll have you, even if she’s completely horrible?’ ‘Er – yeah, that sounds about right,’ said Ron. ‘I’m going to bed,’ Hermione snapped, and she swept off towards the girls’ staircase without another word.

There’s something funny, though,’ said Hermione ten minutes later, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles. ‘How could Rita Skeeter have known …?

Hedwig had returned from Hermione’s house with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free snacks

Harry, you were brilliant!” Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. “You were amazing! You really were!

Thanks, Hermione,’ said Angelina, smiling at her. ‘Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory,’ said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl

Hermione, Harry, and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door.

Harry’s other presents were much more satisfactory than Dobby’s odd socks — with the obvious exception of the Dursleys’, which consisted of a single tissue, an all-time low — Harry supposed they too were remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; and Hagrid, a vast box of sweets including all Harry’s favorites: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, and Fizzing Whizbees. There was also, of course, Mrs. Weasley’s usual package, including a new sweater (green, with a picture of a dragon on it — Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the Horntail), and a large quantity of homemade mince pies.

Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages

Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?” “Probably says he’s not a very good Head of Department,” said Hermione

Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?” sneered Malfoy. “So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?” “You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy — “that expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?

Harry, Ron and Hermione

Hermione’s a witch,” Harry snarled.

Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly. Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!

Wish I hadn’t bought this now,” said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars. “Three pairs,” said Harry firmly to the wizard. “No — don’t bother,” said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did. “You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione’s hands. “For about ten years, mind.

You only like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron scathingly. “Excuse me, I don’t like people just because they’re handsome!” said Hermione indignantly. Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like “Lockhart!

the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely. ‘Well, move along, then!’ said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. ‘Into the Great Hall, come on!’ Harry, Ron and Hermione slipped and slid across the Entrance Hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face. The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in mid-air. The four long house tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semi-transparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra festive and ensuring that his head didn’t wobble too much on his partially severed neck. ‘Good evening,’ he said, beaming at them. ‘Says who?’ said Harry, taking off his trainers and emptying them of water. ‘Hope they hurry up with the Sorting, I’m starving.’ The Sorting of the new students into houses took place at the start of every school year, but by an unlucky combination of circumstances, Harry hadn’t been present at one since his own. He was quite looking forward to it. Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table, ‘Hiya, Harry!’ It was Colin Creevey, a third-year to whom Harry was something of a hero. ‘Hi, Colin,’ said Harry warily. ‘Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother’s starting! My brother Dennis!’ ‘Er – good,’ said Harry. ‘He’s really excited!’ said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. ‘I just hope he’s in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?’ ‘Er – yeah, all right,’ said Harry. He turned back to Hermione, Ron and Nearly Headless Nick. ‘Brothers and sisters usually go in the same houses, don’t they?’ he said. He was judging by the Weasleys, all seven of whom had been put into Gryffindor. ‘Oh, no, not necessarily,’ said Hermione. ‘Parvati Patil’s twin’s in Ravenclaw, and they’re identical, you’d think they’d be together, wouldn’t you?’ Harry looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting

Bouillabaisse,’ said Hermione. ‘Bless you,’ said Ron.

Treacle tart, Hermione!’ said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell towards her. ‘Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!

That’s because they’re uneducated and brainwashed!’ Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead which announced the arrival of the post owls. Harry looked up at once, and saw Hedwig soaring towards him. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she and Ron watched Hedwig anxiously, as she fluttered down onto Harry’s shoulder, folded her wings and held out her leg wearily.

Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and Harry distinctly heard her mutter ‘slave labour’, before bidding them goodnight, and disappearing through the doorway to the girls’ dormitories.

Krum,’ said Ron quietly. ‘What?’ said Hermione. ‘Krum!’ said Ron. ‘Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!’ ‘He looks really grumpy,’ said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

Stunned himself!’ ‘And Mr Crouch evaporated, did he?’ said Hermione coldly.

Mr Malfoy’s eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink,

. . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore — the man’s such a Mudblood-lover — and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . .” 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.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand. “Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?” Harry called. “Thrivin’,” Hagrid called back happily.

Oh for heaven’s sake,” she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. “Those two!” she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and Harry knew she meant Fred and George. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to them, I really don’t. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can. . . .” Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand-tip as she stirred. “It’s not as though they haven’t got brains,” she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, “but they’re wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they’ll be in real trouble. I’ve had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they’re going, they’ll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office.” Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Harry and Ron both jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan. “I don’t know where we went wrong with them,” said Mrs. Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out still more saucepans. “It’s been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won’t listen to — OH NOT AGAIN!” She had picked up her wand from the table, and it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber mouse. “One of their fake wands again!” she shouted. “How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?” She grabbed her real wand and turned around to find that the sauce on the stove was smoking. “C’mon,” Ron said hurriedly to Harry, seizing a handful of cutlery from the open drawer, “let’s go and help Bill and Charlie.” They left Mrs. Weasley and headed out the back door into the yard. They had only gone a few paces when Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, came pelting out of the garden, bottlebrush tail held high in the air, chasing what looked like a muddy potato on legs. Harry recognized it instantly as a gnome. Barely ten inches

See you at dinner!” said Hermione, and she set off for Arithmancy, while Harry and Ron headed toward North Tower, and Divination. Broad strips of dazzling gold sunlight fell across the corridor from the high windows. The sky outside was so brightly blue it looked as though it had been enameled.

And on Wednesday, I think I’ll come off worst in a fight.” “Aaah, I was going to have a fight. Okay, I’ll lose a bet.” “Yeah, you’ll be betting I’ll win my fight. . . .” They continued to make up predictions (which grew steadily more tragic) for another hour, while the common room around them slowly emptied as people went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to them, leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared inscrutably at Harry, rather as Hermione might look if she knew they weren’t doing their homework properly. Staring around the room, trying to think of a kind of misfortune he hadn’t yet used, Harry saw Fred and George sitting together against the opposite wall, heads together, quills out, poring over a single piece of parchment

The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . . “Any second,” Lee Jordan whispered, two seats away from Harry. The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white. “The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.” “No surprises there!” yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Harry saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber. “Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!” The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames. “The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!” “It’s her, Ron!” Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. “Oh look, they’re all disappointed,” Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. “Disappointed” was a bit of an understatement, Harry thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next . . . And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment. “The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!” “No!” said Ron loudly, but nobody heard him except Harry; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet,

but he somehow thought that Hermione had got the point much better than Ron had.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, ‘I see no difference.