Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Owls
     
    THREE
    The Advance Guard
     
    FOUR
    Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place
     
    FIVE
    The Order of the Phoenix
     
    SIX
    The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
     
    SEVEN
    The Ministry of Magic
     
    EIGHT
    The Hearing
     
    NINE
    The Woes of Mrs Weasley
     
    TEN
    Luna Lovegood
     
    ELEVEN
    The Sorting Hat’s New Song
     
    TWELVE
    Professor Umbridge
     
    THIRTEEN
    Detention with Dolores
     
    FOURTEEN
    Percy and Padfoot
     
    FIFTEEN
    The Hogwarts High Inquisitor
     
    SIXTEEN
    In the Hog’s Head
     
    SEVENTEEN
    Educational Decree Number Twenty-four
     
    EIGHTEEN
    Dumbledore’s Army
     
    NINETEEN
    The Lion and the Serpent
     
    TWENTY
    Hagrid’s Tale
     
    TWENTY-ONE
    The Eye of the Snake
     
    TWENTY-TWO
    St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical
    Maladies and Injuries
     
    TWENTY-THREE
    Christmas on the Closed Ward
     
    TWENTY-FOUR
    Occlumency
     
    TWENTY-FIVE
    The Beetle at Bay
     
    TWENTY-SIX
    Seen and Unforeseen
     
    TWENTY-SEVEN
    The Centaur and the Sneak
     
    TWENTY-EIGHT
    Snape’s Worst Memory
     
    TWENTY-NINE
    Careers Advice
     
    THIRTY
    Grawp
     
    THIRTY-ONE
    O.W.L.s
     
    THIRTY-TWO
    Out of the Fire
     
    THIRTY-THREE
    Fight and Flight
     
    THIRTY-FOUR
    The Department of Mysteries
     
    THIRTY-FIVE
    Beyond the Veil
     
    THIRTY-SIX
    The Only One He Ever Feared
     
    THIRTY-SEVEN
    The Lost Prophecy
     
    THIRTY-EIGHT
    The Second War Begins

 
     
— CHAPTER ONE —
     
Dudley Demented
    The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive. Cars that were usually gleaming stood dusty in their drives and lawns that were once emerald green lay parched and yellowing – for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual car-washing and lawn-mowing pursuits, the inhabitants of Privet Drive had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a non-existent breeze. The only person left outdoors was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.
    He was a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who had the pinched, slightly unhealthy look of someone who has grown a lot in a short space of time. His jeans were torn and dirty, his T-shirt baggy and faded, and the soles of his trainers were peeling away from the uppers. Harry Potter’s appearance did not endear him to the neighbours, who were the sort of people who thought scruffiness ought to be punishable by law, but as he had hidden himself behind a large hydrangea bush this evening he was quite invisible to passers-by. In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if his Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia stuck their heads out of the living-room window and looked straight down into the flowerbed below.
    On the whole, Harry thought he was to be congratulated on his idea of hiding here. He was not, perhaps, very comfortable lying on the hot, hard earth but, on the other hand, nobody was glaring at him, grinding their teeth so loudly that he could not hear the news, or shooting nasty questions at him, as had happened every time he had tried sitting down in the living room to watch television with his aunt and uncle.
    Almost as though this thought had fluttered through the open window, Vernon Dursley, Harry’s uncle, suddenly spoke.
    ‘Glad to see the boy’s stopped trying to butt in. Where is he, anyway?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Aunt Petunia, unconcerned. ‘Not in the house.’
    Uncle Vernon grunted.
    ‘ Watching the news … ’ he said scathingly. ‘I’d like to know what he’s really up to. As if a normal boy cares what’s on the news – Dudley hasn’t got a clue what’s going on; doubt he knows who the Prime Minister is! Anyway, it’s not as if there’d be anything about his lot on our news –’
    ‘Vernon, shh !’ said Aunt Petunia. ‘The window’s open!’
    ‘Oh – yes – sorry, dear.’
    The Dursleys fell silent. Harry listened to a jingle about Fruit ’n’ Bran breakfast cereal while he watched Mrs Figg, a batty cat-loving old lady from nearby Wisteria Walk, amble slowly past. She was frowning and muttering to herself. Harry was very pleased he was concealed behind the bush, as Mrs Figg had recently taken to asking him round for tea whenever she met him in the street. She had rounded the corner and vanished from view before Uncle Vernon’s voice floated out of the window again.
    ‘Dudders out for tea?’
    ‘At the Polkisses’,’ said Aunt Petunia fondly.