Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

tonight!’ said Hermione. ‘I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they’ve been drinking, or are they just –’
    But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. Harry and Ron looked quickly around, too. It sounded as though someone was staggering towards their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.
    ‘Hello?’ called Harry.
    There was silence. Harry got to his feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but he could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of his vision.
    ‘Who’s there?’ he said.
    And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.
    ‘MORSMORDRE!’
    And something vast, green and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harry’s eyes had been struggling to penetrate: it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.
    ‘What the –?’ gasped Ron, as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared.
    For a split second, Harry thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then he realised that it was a colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.
    Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. Harry didn’t understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood, like some grisly neon sign. He scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but he couldn’t see anyone.
    ‘Who’s there?’ he called again.
    ‘Harry, come on, move !’ Hermione had seized the back of his jacket, and was tugging him backwards.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ Harry said, startled to see her face so white and terrified.
    ‘It’s the Dark Mark, Harry!’ Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could. ‘You-Know-Who’s sign!’
    ‘Voldemort’s –?’
    ‘Harry, come on !’
    Harry turned – Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum – the three of them started across the clearing – but before they had taken more than a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.
    Harry whirled around, and in a split second, he registered one fact: each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at himself, Ron and Hermione. Without pausing to think, he yelled, ‘DUCK!’ He seized the other two and pulled them down onto the ground.
    ‘STUPEFY!’ roared twenty voices – there was a blinding series of flashes and Harry felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising his head a fraction of an inch he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards’ wands, crossing each other, bouncing off tree-trunks, rebounding into the darkness –
    ‘Stop!’ yelled a voice he recognised. ‘STOP! That’s my son! ’
    Harry’s hair stopped blowing about. He raised his head a little higher. The wizard in front of him had lowered his wand. He rolled over and saw Mr Weasley striding towards them, looking terrified.
    ‘Ron – Harry –’ his voice sounded shaky, ‘– Hermione – are you all right?’
    ‘Out of the way, Arthur,’ said a cold, curt voice.
    It was Mr Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Harry got to his feet to face them. Mr Crouch’s face was taut with rage.
    ‘Which of you did it?’ he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. ‘Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?’
    ‘We didn’t do that!’ said Harry, gesturing up at the skull.
    ‘We didn’t do anything!’ said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow, and looking indignantly at his father. ‘What did you want to attack us for?’
    ‘Do not lie, sir!’ shouted Mr Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping – he looked slightly mad. ‘You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!’
    ‘Barty,’ whispered a witch in a long woollen dressing-gown, ‘they’re kids, Barty, they’d never have been able to –’
    ‘Where did the Mark come from, you three?’ said Mr Weasley quickly.
    ‘Over