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Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - THE WEIGHING OF THE WANDS

When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, it took him a moment to remember why

he felt so miserable and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled

over him. He sat up and ripped back the curtains of his own four-poster, intending

to talk to Ron, to force Ron to believe him - only to find that Ron's bed was empty;

he had obviously gone down to breakfast.

Harry dressed and went down the spiral staircase into the common room. The

moment he appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast broke into

applause again. The prospect of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest

of the Gryffindors, all treating him like some sort of hero, was not inviting; it was

that, however, or stay here and allow himself to be cornered by the Creevey

brothers, who were both beckoning frantically to him to join them. 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?"

"Good idea," said Harry gratefully.

They went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the

Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the

Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water. It was a chilly

morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Harry told Hermione

exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table the night before.

To his immense relief, Hermione accepted his story without question.

"Well, of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself," she said when he'd finished

telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your face

when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in?

Because Moody's right, Harry... I don't think any student could have done it. . .

they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's -"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione hesitated.

"Erm. . . yes. . . he was at breakfast," she said.

"Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well. . . no, I don't think so . . . not really," said Hermione awkwardly.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"

"Oh Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"

"Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of

himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

"Look," said Hermione patiently, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you

know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his

mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it.. . but - well - you know, Ron's got

all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and

you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you,

and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time

too many. . .

"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he

wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it.... People gawping at my forehead

everywhere I go. . ."

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the

only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so

loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe

I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or -"

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked

extremely anxious. "Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do,

don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -"

"Write to Sirius. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep

him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. . . . It's almost as if he

expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out

with me -"

"Come off it," said Harry, looking around to check that they couldn't be overheard,

but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because

my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him

someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament -"

"He'd want you to tell him," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out

anyway."

"How?"

"Harry, this isn't going to be kept quiet," said Hermione, very seriously. "This

tournament's famous, and you're famous. I'll be really surprised if there isn't

anything in the Daily Prophet about you competing. . . . You're already in half the

books about You-Know-Who, you know.. . and Sirius would rather hear it from

you, I know he would."