Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Transfiguration already! But I don’t think we start that until sixth year, and it can go badly wrong if you don’t know what you’re doing …’
    ‘Yeah, I don’t fancy walking around with a periscope sticking out of my head,’ said Harry. ‘I s’pose I could always attack someone in front of Moody, he might do it for me …’
    ‘I don’t think he’d let you choose what you wanted to be turned into, though,’ said Hermione seriously. ‘No, I think your best chance is some sort of charm.’
    So Harry, thinking that he would soon have had enough of the library to last him a lifetime, buried himself once more among the dusty volumes, looking for any spell that might enable a human to survive without oxygen. However, though he, Ron and Hermione searched through their lunchtimes, evenings and whole weekends – though Harry asked Professor McGonagall for a note of permission to use the Restricted Section, and even asked the irritable, vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, for help – they found nothing whatsoever that would enable Harry to spend an hour underwater and live to tell the tale.
    Familiar flutterings of panic were starting to disturb Harry now, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate in lessons again. The lake, which Harry had always taken for granted as just another feature of the grounds, drew his eyes whenever he was near a classroom window, a great, iron-grey mass of chilly water, whose dark and icy depths were starting to seem as distant as the moon.
    Just as it had done before he had faced the Horntail, time was slipping away as though somebody had bewitched the clocks to go extra fast. There was a week to go before February the twenty-fourth (there was still time) … there were five days to go (he was bound to find something soon) … three days to go (please let me find something … please … ).
    With two days left, Harry started to go off food again. The only good thing about breakfast on Monday was the return of the brown owl he had sent to Sirius. He pulled off the parchment, unrolled it, and saw the shortest letter Sirius had ever written to him.
     
    Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.
     
    Harry turned the parchment over and looked at the back, hoping to see something else, but it was blank.
    ‘Weekend after next,’ whispered Hermione, who had read the note over Harry’s shoulder. ‘Here – take my quill and send this owl back straight away.’
    Harry scribbled the dates down on the back of Sirius’ letter, tied it back onto the brown owl’s leg, and watched it take flight again. What had he expected? Advice on how to survive underwater? He had been so intent on telling Sirius all about Snape and Moody, he had completely forgotten to mention the egg’s clue.
    ‘What’s he want to know about the next Hogsmeade weekend for?’ said Ron.
    ‘Dunno,’ said Harry dully. The momentary happiness that had flared inside him at the sight of the owl had died. ‘Come on … Care of Magical Creatures.’
    Whether Hagrid was trying to make up for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, or because there were now only two Skrewts left, or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could, Harry didn’t know, but he had been continuing her lessons on unicorns ever since he’d returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing.
    Today he had managed to capture two unicorn foals. Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold. Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them, and even Pansy Parkinson had to work hard to conceal how much she liked them.
    ‘Easier ter spot than the adults,’ Hagrid told the class. ‘They turn silver when they’re abou’ two years old, an’ they grow horns at aroun’ four. Don’ go pure white ’til they’re full-grown, round about seven. They’re a bit more trustin’ when they’re babies … don’ mind boys so much … c’mon, move in a bit, yeh can pat ’em if yeh want … give ’em a few o’ these sugar lumps …
    ‘You OK, Harry?’ Hagrid muttered, moving aside slightly, while most of the others swarmed around the baby unicorns.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Harry.
    ‘Jus’ nervous, eh?’ said Hagrid.
    ‘Bit,’ said Harry.
    ‘Harry,’ said Hagrid, clapping a massive hand on his shoulder, so that Harry’s knees buckled under its weight,