Right Now Could Last Forever

Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn’t the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches – perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill’s, but found he had too much hair. The look didn’t really suit Hagrid at all. For a moment, Hermione goggled at him, then, obviously deciding not to comment, she said, “Erm – where are the Skrewts?”

“Out by the pumpkin patch,” said Hagrid happily. “They’re gettin’ massive, mus’ be nearly three foot long now. On’y trouble is, they’ve started killing each other.”

“Oh, no, really?” said Hermione, shooting me a repressive look, as I had just opened my mouth to say something about Hagrid’s odd hairstyle, which I was staring at.

“Yeah,” said Hagrid sadly. “’S’OK, though, I’ve got ‘em in separated boxes now. Still got abou’ twenty.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” said Ron. Hagrid missed the sarcasm.

Hagrid’s cabin comprised a single room, in one corner of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs stood in front of the fire, beneath the quantity of cured hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. We sat down at the table while Hagrid started to make tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid seemed quite as excited about it as we were.

“You wait,” he said, grinning. “You jus’ wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh’ve never seen before. Firs’ task... ah, but I’m not supposed ter say.”

“Go on, Hagrid!” we urged him, but he just shook his head, grinning.

“I don’ want ter spoil it fer yeh,” said Hagrid. “But it’s gonna be spectacular, I’ll tell yeh that. Them champions’re going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I’d live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!”

We ended up having lunch with Hagrid, though we didn’t eat much – Hagrid had made what he said was a beef casserole, but after Hermione unearthed a large talon in hers, we rather lost our appetites. We enjoyed ourselves trying to make Hagrid tell us what the tasks in the Tournament were going to be, however, speculating which of the entrants were likely to be selected as champions, and wondering whether Fred and George were beardless yet.

A light rain had started to fall by mid-afternoon; it was very cosy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle patter of the drops on the window, watching Hagrid darning his socks and arguing with Hermione about house-elves – for he flatly refused to join S.P.E.W. when she showed him her badges.

“It’d be doin’ ‘em an unkindness, Hermione,” he said gravely, threading a massive bone needle with thick yellow yarn. “It’s in their nature ter look after humans, that’s what they like, see? Yeh’d be makin’ ‘em unhappy ter take away their work, an’ unsultin’ ‘em if yeh tried to pay ‘em.”

“But Harry set Dobby free, and he was over the moon about it!” said Hermione. “And we heard he’s asking for wages now!”

“Yeah, well, yeh get weirdos in every breed. I’m not sayin’ there isn’t the odd elf who’d take freedom, but yeh’ll never persuade most of ‘em ter do it – no, nothin’ doin’, Hermione.”
Hermione looked very cross indeed, and stuffed her box of badges back into her cloak pocket.

By half past five it was growing dark, and Ron, Hermione, Harry and I decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast – and, more importantly, the announcement of the school champions.

“I’ll come with yeh,” said Hagrid, putting away is darning. “Jus’ give us a sec.”

Hagrid got up, went across to the chest of drawers beside his bed and began searching for something inside it. We didn’t pay too much attention, until a truly horrible smell reached our nostrils.

Coughing, I said, “Hagrid, what’s that?”

“Eh?” said Hagrid, turning around with a large bottle in his hand. “Don’t yeh like it?”

“Is that aftershave?” said Hermione, in a slightly choked voice.

“Er – eau-de-Cologne,” Hagrid muttered. He was blushing. “Maybe it’s a bit much,” he said gruffly. “I’ll go take it off, hang on...”

He stumped out of the cabin, and we saw him washing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside the window.

“Eau-de-Cologne?” I said in amazement. “Hagrid?”

“And what’s with the hair and the suit?” said Harry in an undertone.

“Look!” said Ron suddenly, pointing out of the window.

Hagrid had just straightened up and turned round. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing to what he was doing now. Getting to our feet very cautiously, so that Hagrid wouldn’t spot us, we peered through the window and saw that Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students had just emerged from their carriage, clearly about to set off for the feast, too. We couldn’t hear what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to Madame Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression I had only ever seen him wear once before – when he had been looking at the baby dragon, Norbert.

“He’s going up to the castle with her!” said Hermione indignantly. “I thought he was waiting for us?”

Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, Hagrid was trudging off up the grounds with Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons students following in their wake, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides.

“He fancies her!” I said incredulously. “Well, if they end up having children, they’ll be setting a world record – bet any baby of theirs would weigh a ton.”

We let ourselves out of the cabin and shut the door behind us. It was surprisingly dark outside. Harry, Ron and Hermione drew their cloaks closer around themselves, while I was pretty warm in Fred’s jersey, and we set off up the sloping lawns.

“Ooh, it’s them, look!” Hermione whispered.

The Durmstrang party were walking up towards the castle from the lake. Krum was walking side by said with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Ron watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look around as he reached the front doors and little ahead of us, and proceeded through them.

When we entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore’s empty chair at the teachers’ table. Fred and George – clean shaven again – seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.
“Hope it’s Angelina,” said George, as Harry, Ron, Hermione and I sat down.

“So do I!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Well, we’ll soon know!”

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it as our second feast in two days, I didn’t seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as I would normally have done. No, of course I did; it was food. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, I simply wanted to finish my food, the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at carious students. Mr Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

“Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” – he indicated the door behind the staff table – “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging us all into a state of semi-darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting... a few people kept checking their watches...

“Any second,” Lee Jordan whispered, two seats away from Harry, who sat across from me.
The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it – the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

“No surprises there!” yelled Ron, as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. I saw Krum rise from the Slytherin table, and slouch up towards Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!”

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the Goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” said Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“It’s her, Ron!” I shouted, as the girl who so resembled a Veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair and swept between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. “Oh, close your mouth.”

“Oh, look, they’re all disappointed,” Hermione said over the noise, nodding towards the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. ‘Disappointed’ was a bit of an understatement, I thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears, and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour, too, had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stuff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off towards the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily, as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real –“

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the Goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat, and read out –

“Harry Potter.”