“You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime,” Harry said, annoyed.
“Don’ you talk ter me abou’ her!” said Hagrid, and he looked quite frightening for a moment. “I’ve got her number now! Tryin’ ter get back in me good books, tryin’ ter get me ter tell her what’s comin’ in the third task. Ha! You can’ trust any of ’em!”
Hagrid was in such a bad mood, Harry was quite glad to say good-bye to him in front of the Fat Lady. He clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron and Hermione were sitting, to tell them what had happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE DREAM
It comes down to this,” said Hermione, rubbing her forehead. “Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody else attacked both of them when Viktor wasn’t looking.”
“It must’ve been Crouch,” said Ron at once. “That’s why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He’d done a runner.”
“I don’t think so,” said Harry, shaking his head. “He seemed really weak — I don’t reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything.”
“You can’t Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds, haven’t I told you enough times?” said Hermione.
“Okay . . . how’s this for a theory,” said Ron excitedly. “Krum attacked Crouch — no, wait for it — and then Stunned himself!”
“And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?” said Hermione coldly.
“Oh yeah . . .”
It was daybreak. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had crept out of their dormitories very early and hurried up to the Owlery together to send a note to Sirius. Now they were standing looking out at the misty grounds. All three of them were puffy-eyed and pale because they had been talking late into the night about Mr. Crouch.
“Just go through it again, Harry,” said Hermione. “What did Mr. Crouch actually say?”
“I’ve told you, he wasn’t making much sense,” said Harry. “He said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about something. He definitely mentioned Bertha Jorkins, and he seemed to think she was dead. He kept saying stuff was his fault. . . . He mentioned his son.”
“Well, that was his fault,” said Hermione testily.
“He was out of his mind,” said Harry. “Half the time he seemed to think his wife and son were still alive, and he kept talking to Percy about work and giving him instructions.”
“And . . . remind me what he said about You-Know-Who?” said Ron tentatively.
“I’ve told you,” Harry repeated dully. “He said he’s getting stronger.”
There was a pause. Then Ron said in a falsely confident voice, “But he was out of his mind, like you said, so half of it was probably just raving. . . .”
“He was sanest when he was trying to talk about Voldemort,” said Harry, and Ron winced at the sound of the name. “He was having real trouble stringing two words together, but that was when he seemed to know where he was, and know what he wanted to do. He just kept saying he had to see Dumbledore.”
Harry turned away from the window and stared up into the rafters. The many perches were half-empty; every now and then, another owl would swoop in through one of the windows, returning from its night’s hunting with a mouse in its beak.
“If Snape hadn’t held me up,” Harry said bitterly, “we might’ve got there in time. ‘The headmaster is busy, Potter . . . what’s this rubbish, Potter?’ Why couldn’t he have just got out of the way?”
“Maybe he didn’t want you to get there!” said Ron quickly. “Maybe — hang on — how fast d’you reckon he could’ve gotten down to the forest? D’you reckon he could’ve beaten you and Dumbledore there?”
“Not unless he can turn himself into a bat or something,” said Harry.
“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Ron muttered.
“We need to see Professor Moody,” said Hermione. “We need to find out whether he found Mr. Crouch.”
“If he had the Marauder’s Map on him, it would’ve been easy,” said Harry.
“Unless Crouch was already outside the grounds,” said Ron, “because it only shows up to the boundaries, doesn’t —”
“Shh!” said Hermione suddenly.
Somebody was climbing the steps up to the Owlery. Harry could hear two voices arguing, coming closer and closer.
“— that’s blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that —”
“— we’ve tried being polite; it’s time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn’t like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did —”
“I’m telling you, if you put that in writing, it’s blackmail!”
“Yeah, and you won’t be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?”
The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
“What’re you doing here?” Ron and Fred said at the same time.
“Sending a letter,” said Harry and George in unison.
“What, at this time?” said Hermione and Fred.
Fred grinned.
“Fine — we won’t ask you what you’re doing, if you don’t ask us,” he said.
He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Harry glanced at it, but Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.
“Well, don’t let us hold you up,” Fred said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door.
Ron didn’t move. “Who’re you blackmailing?” he said.
The grin vanished from Fred’s face. Harry saw George half glance at Fred, before smiling at Ron.
“Don’t be stupid, I was only joking,” he said easily.
“Didn’t sound like that,” said Ron.
Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said abruptly, “I’ve told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can’t see why you would, but —”