Harry Potter.4 (2027)
“No,” Harry said. “I didn’t.”
The tent was huge — silk panels embroidered with magical beasts, braziers burning low blue flames. But the other three Champions weren’t there. Fleur’s sleeping area was sealed with a shimmering charm; Krum’s side smelled of salt and iron; Cedric’s hammock swayed empty, probably off walking the edge of the Forbidden Forest again.
“Dried currants. Very flammable, apparently.” Cedric took a sip from his mug. “Want some tea? It’s from my mum’s thermos. Stays hot for a month.” Harry Potter.4
The water was black glass. The Durmstrang ship sat moored like a drowned bone. Harry sat on a flat rock and pulled his knees to his chest.
Harry walked outside.
He didn’t go there. He went to the lake instead.
“I’m thinking about dying,” Harry said flatly. “But running’s on the list.” “No,” Harry said
“Oh, I am,” Cedric said easily. “I just hide it well. It’s the Hufflepuff way. We’re not brave like Gryffindors or clever like Ravenclaws. We just keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope the badgers are with us.”
He walked back toward the tent, leaving Harry alone under a scatter of cold stars. Fleur’s sleeping area was sealed with a shimmering
Ron was snoring in the next bed, still not talking to him. Hermione had sent him a message via a tiny, folded paper crane that morning: “Read about Swiveling Distraction Spells. Page 394.” But Harry had barely opened Magical Me without wanting to throw it across the tent.
“No,” Harry said. “I didn’t.”
The tent was huge — silk panels embroidered with magical beasts, braziers burning low blue flames. But the other three Champions weren’t there. Fleur’s sleeping area was sealed with a shimmering charm; Krum’s side smelled of salt and iron; Cedric’s hammock swayed empty, probably off walking the edge of the Forbidden Forest again.
“Dried currants. Very flammable, apparently.” Cedric took a sip from his mug. “Want some tea? It’s from my mum’s thermos. Stays hot for a month.”
The water was black glass. The Durmstrang ship sat moored like a drowned bone. Harry sat on a flat rock and pulled his knees to his chest.
Harry walked outside.
He didn’t go there. He went to the lake instead.
“I’m thinking about dying,” Harry said flatly. “But running’s on the list.”
“Oh, I am,” Cedric said easily. “I just hide it well. It’s the Hufflepuff way. We’re not brave like Gryffindors or clever like Ravenclaws. We just keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope the badgers are with us.”
He walked back toward the tent, leaving Harry alone under a scatter of cold stars.
Ron was snoring in the next bed, still not talking to him. Hermione had sent him a message via a tiny, folded paper crane that morning: “Read about Swiveling Distraction Spells. Page 394.” But Harry had barely opened Magical Me without wanting to throw it across the tent.