I tried to remain normal over the next few weeks, and it was hard, so I gave up and became an average Willow again.

I began to squawk throughout Defence Against the Dark Arts because we weren’t learning anything and Professor Moody had glared at me and then decided to put the Imperius Curse on each of us in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether we could resist its effects. 

Well, sure...If you want me to stop squawking. You could have just asked...I wouldn’t have stopped anyway...

CHEESE!

“But - but you said it’s illegal, Professor,” said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. “You said - to use it against another human was -” 

“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” said Moody, his magical eye swivelling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. “If you’d rather learn the hard way - when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You’re excused. Off you go.” He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. I watched as, one by one, my classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it. 

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.”  Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, “Imperio!”

Moody gave him this creepy look. It made me laugh.

“Jump on the desk!” Moody Grumbled.

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.  

Then, I had fallen over laughing. Harry had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping - the result was that he’d smashed headlong into the desk knocking it over.

“Now, that’s more like it!” growled Moody’s voice. “Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that’s where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!” 

The whole class went quiet...And I chose that silent moment to howl with laughter.

“Right,” Moody snapped in a low voice that was grumbly and made me laugh more. “Think it’s funny? Eh? You try it.”

How do you even snap in a low and grumbly voice?

“Ask moody.” Lucy suggested.

I stood up, attempting to keep a straight face. (But failing)

“I accept!”

“Imperio.” He said with his wand pointed at me.

It was like bliss. I felt happy and didn’t have a care in the world.

“Do a backflip.” Said Moody’s voice distantly in my mind. It didn’t seem like a bad Idea, I wouldn’t injure myself because I’m happy and blissful...

But I’m always like that.

Bubbly and Joyous.

STUFF THIS CRAP! I’M A FREAKING TREE! I DON’T NEED TO DO THIS! BUGGER IT DIE CURSE DIE!

“DIE!” I shouted. I also kind of flew across the room and punched Harry in the gut. “SORRY HARRY!”

“I was trying to make you backflip.” Said Moody looking at me weirdly.

“She has a strange reaction to stuff.” Harry said as he gasped for air.

Erm,  yes, bad reaction...not intentional...

I shall never speak of this moment again.

SHHH ITS A SECRET!

 “The way he talks,” Harry complained as we walked out of class. (Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row, until Harry could throw off the curse entirely. I only had to do it twice because I’m a ruthless tree and nothing can affect me.), “you’d think we were all going to be attacked any second.” 

“Yeah, I know,” said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. He had had much more difficulty with the curse than I, though Moody assured him the effects would wear off by lunchtime. “Talk about paranoid…” Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder to check that Moody was definitely out of earshot and went on. “No wonder they were glad to get shot of him at the Ministry. Did you hear him telling Seamus what he did to that witch who shouted ‘Boo’ behind him on April Fools’ Day? And when are we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we’ve got to do?” 

My whole year had noticed a definite increase in the amount of work we were required to do this term. Professor McGonagall explained why, when my class gave a particularly loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned. 

“You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!” she told us, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. “Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer —” 

“We don’t take O.W.L.s till fifth year!” said Dean Thomas indignantly. 

“Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!” 

Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself.

I probably would have been able to do it, but I was on drugs...

“Keep telling yourself that.” Lucy muttered. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

Professor Binns had us writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Snape was forcing us to research antidotes. We took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of us before Christmas to see if their antidote worked.

Probably me.

Professor Flitwick had asked us to read three extra books in preparation for our lesson on Summoning Charms. 

AND I PRACTICED THE CHARM AND I COULD DO IT AND IT WAS LIKE YAY!

And even Hagrid was adding to our workload. The NEW Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that they were only a few weeks old and nobody had yet discovered what they ate.

Hagrid was delighted, and as part of our “project,” suggested that we come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behaviour. 

“I will not,” said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. “I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks.”  Hagrid’s smile faded off his face.

“Yeh’ll do wha’ yer told,” he growled, “or I’ll be takin’ a leaf outta Professor Moody’s book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy.” 

Everyone burst out laughing, and Ron was leaning on me for support. Hermione threw me a look which was a stunning reminder of what I had done on Happy pills...

IT WAS FUN OKAY!

We returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When we arrived in the entrance hall, we found ourselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase.

Ron, the tallest of us, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of us and read the sign aloud.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT -  THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY – 

“Brilliant!” said Harry. “It’s Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won’t have time to poison us all!” 

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST. 

“Only a week away!” said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. “I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I’ll go and tell him…” 

“GO MARRY BELLA YOU WANKA!” I shouted after him. That was really random and not very nice.

BAD WILLOW!

“Cedric?” said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off. 

“Diggory,” said Harry. “He must be entering the tournament.” 

“That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” said Ron as we pushed our way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase. 

“He’s not an idiot. You just don’t like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,” said Hermione. “I’ve heard he’s a really good student - and he’s a prefect.”  She spoke as though this settled the matter. 

“You only like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron scathingly. 

“Excuse me, I don’t like people just because they’re handsome!” said Hermione indignantly. 

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like “Lockhart!” 

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where I went: the Triwizard Tournament. 

Rumours were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves. I noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces.

The suits of armour were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

He’s a pedo.

Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too. 

“Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can’t even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!” Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus. 

“Professor, kindly do not reveal that you can’t even behave nicely to anyone from Durmstrang.” I smiled sweetly as I spoke.

“Willow, kindly do not reveal that you’re a complete lunatic.” She said back.

“PROFESSOR MG! IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS THAT I’M CRAZY!” I yelled.

“Professor Mg?” She said in exasperation.

“McGonagall! I LIKE MG BETTER! PROFESSOR MG!”  McGonagall face-palmed.

“Willow, do try to be normal.” She said pleadingly.

“Or I can take happy pills.” I chirped skipping out the door.

I could have sworn she shouted “OH GOD NO!” after me.

When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, and yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin.

Behind the teachers’ table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.  Harry, Hermione, Ron and I sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.  

“It’s a bummer, all right,” George was saying gloomily to Fred. “But if he won’t talk to us in person, we’ll have to send him the letter after all. Or we’ll stuff it into his hand. He can’t avoid us forever.” 

“Who’s avoiding you?” said Ron, sitting down next to them. 

“Wish you would,” said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption. 

“What’s a bummer?” Ron asked George. 

“Having a nosy git like you for a brother,” said George. 

“Far out, you two turned your charm on today!” I said sarcastically.

“You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?” Harry asked. “Thought any more about trying to enter?” 

“I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn’t telling,” said George bitterly. “She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon.” 

“Wonder what the tasks are going to be?” said Ron thoughtfully. “You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We’ve done dangerous stuff before…” 

“Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven’t,” said Fred. “McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they’ve done the tasks.”

“Who are the judges?” Harry asked. 

“Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel,” said Hermione, and we all looked around at her, rather surprised, “because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage. It’s all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book’s not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School.” 

“What are you on about?” said Ron, though I thought I knew what was coming. 

“House-elves!” said Hermione, her eyes flashing.  I groaned. “Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!” 

Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. Our lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione’s determination to pursue justice for house-elves.  True, Ron, Harry and I had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, but we had only done it to keep her quiet.

Our Sickles had been wasted, however; if anything, they seemed to have made Hermione more vociferous. She had been badgering us ever since, first to wear the badges, then to persuade others to do the same, and she had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses. 

“You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?” she kept saying fiercely.  Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke. Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding us all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione. 

“Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?” 

“No, of course not,” said Hermione curtly, “I hardly think students are supposed to -” 

“Well, we have,” said George, indicating Fred, “loads of times, to nick food. And we’ve met them, and they’re happy. They think they’ve got the best job in the world -”

“That’s because they’re uneducated and brainwashed!” Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by me.

“OH MY GOD! WE CAN GET INTO THE KITCHENS! HOW?”

“It’s simple-“ George said laughing at me.

But there was a sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls.

Hedwig came and had a reply from Sirius.

Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius’s letter in a whisper to Ron, ‘Mione and me.

Nice try, Harry.  I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. Don’t use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don’t worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don’t forget what I said about your scar.  Sirius

 “Why d’you have to keep changing owls?” Ron asked in a low voice. 

“Hedwig’ll attract too much attention,” said Hermione at once. “She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he’s hiding… I mean, they’re not native birds, are they?” 

“Thanks, Hedwig,” Harry said, stroking her. She hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his goblet of orange juice, then took off again, clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery. 

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter.

When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, threw our books inside as we had been instructed, pulled on our cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.  The Heads of Houses were ordering everyone students into lines. 

“Weasley, straighten your hat,” Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. “Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair.”  Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait. “Willow, try not to be stupid.”

“You know I can’t do that miss.” I smiled. She looked at me and muttered something to herself as she walked away.

“Follow me, please,” said Professor McGonagall. “First years in front… no pushing…”

We filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. I was standing beside Hermione and Neville in the fourth row from the front. 

“Nearly six,” said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. “How d’you reckon they’re coming? The train?” 

“I doubt it,” said Hermione. 

“How, then? Broomsticks?” Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky. 

“I don’t think so… not from that far away…” I said shocking Hermione as I sounded like a smarticle particle.

“A Portkey?” Ron suggested. “Or they could Apparate - maybe you’re allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?” 

“You can’t Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?” said Hermione impatiently. 

We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. I was starting to feel cold. I wished they’d hurry up… Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance… I remembered what Mr. Weasley had said back at the campsite before the Quidditch World Cup: “always the same - we can’t resist showing off when we get together…” 

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers - “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” 

“Where?” said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.  

“There!” yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.  Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. 

“It’s a dragon!” shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely. 

“Don’t be stupid… it’s a flying house!” said Dennis Creevey.  Dennis’s guess was closer…

“FRICKING WINGED HORSES! HOLY SHIT! I WANT ONE!” Guess who said that?

Sorry Professor MG! I failed already!

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, I saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. 

He he, I was right about the horses.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year’s foot, the horses’ hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

I just wanted to stick a horn on their heads to pretend it was a unicorn, but I’m sure McGonagall would have killed me.

As the door opened, a boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then I saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child’s sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman I had ever seen in my life.

The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.  I had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in my life, and that was Hagrid; I doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow - maybe simply because I was used to Hagrid - this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.  Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. I was clapping and catcalling.

Like A Willow.

The giant’s face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it. 

“My dear Madame Maxime,” he said. “Welcome to Hogwarts.” 

“Dumbly-dort,” said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. “I ‘ope I find you well?” 

“In excellent form, I thank you,” said Dumbledore. 

“My pupils,” said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.  My attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, and I now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what I could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime’s enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.  

“’As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Madame Maxime asked.

“He should be here any moment,” said Dumbledore. “Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?” 

“Warm up, I think,” said Madame Maxime. “But ze ‘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 that 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 am so putting horns on them.

I don’t care what it takes.

I’m making fricking unicorns.

“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 whiskey?” 

“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?” I added.

“Maybe they’ve escaped,” said Ron hopefully. 

“Oh don’t say that,” said Hermione with a shudder. “Imagine that lot loose on the grounds…” 

“I could kill them all again...” I mumbled.

We stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

“IN THE JUNGLE! THE MIGHTY JUNGLE THE LION SLEEPS TONIGHT!” I sang loudly into the air.

The crowd followed with ‘awimbowee’.

I’m surprised that many wizards had watched the lion king.

“IN THE JUNGLE THE QUIET JUNGLE THE LION SLEEPS TO NIGHT!” the whole school shouted in song.

I’m a legend. I should get a frigging medal.

 “Can you hear something?” said Ron loud and suddenly.

Everyone shut up and listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward us from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed. 

“The lake!” yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. “Look at the lake!”

From our position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, we 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 I saw the rigging…  

“It’s a mast!” Harry said to us. No one reacted at all.

“It’s a mast!” I said in a way more dramatic tone.

Everyone around me gasped in awe at my words.

“I said that.” Harry said sourly looking at me.

I smiled the sugary sweet smile I always wear.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were 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 toward the bank. A few moments later, we 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; I could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. All of them, I 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, I 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, creepy voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle I 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 I noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. “How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…”  Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students.

“It’s Krum!” I heard Ron say in awe.

Krum, the wanka.

I'm SUCH A LEMON!