Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

’orses –’
    ‘Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them,’ said Dumbledore, ‘the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation which has arisen with some of his other – er – charges.’
    ‘Skrewts,’ Ron muttered to Harry, grinning.
    ‘My steeds require – er – forceful ’andling,’ said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. ‘Zey are very strong …’
    ‘I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job,’ said Dumbledore, smiling.
    ‘Very well,’ said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly, ‘will you please inform zis ’Agrid zat ze ’orses drink only single-malt whisky?’
    ‘It will be attended to,’ said Dumbledore, also bowing.
    ‘Come,’ said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
    ‘How big d’you reckon Durmstrang’s horses are going to be?’ Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.
    ‘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 in the grounds …’
    They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime’s huge horses snorting and stamping. But then –
    ‘Can you hear something?’ said Ron suddenly.
    Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting towards them from out of the darkness; a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner was moving along a river-bed …
    ‘The lake!’ yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. ‘Look at the lake!’
    From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water – except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the centre; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks – and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake’s floor …
    What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool … and then Harry saw the rigging …
    ‘It’s a mast!’ he said to Ron and Hermione.
    Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it was a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide towards the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
    People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle … but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the Entrance Hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort; sleek and silver, like his hair.
    ‘Dumbledore!’ he called heartily, as he walked up the slope. ‘How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?’
    ‘Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,’ Dumbledore replied.
    Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle, they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.
    ‘Dear old Hogwarts,’ he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. ‘How