I didn't want to do this chapter because it really bores me in the book and Ron seemed bored with things as well when it came to S.P.E.W

My honest opinion? While I see where Hermione's heart was, I felt she was too aggressive with her cause. Especially when she was trying to trick and force them into freedom. It was wrong of her to do that. She should have let them choose what they wanted, instead of being so insistent.

Anyways, let's get this chapter out of the way and onto the good stuff!

Chapter 99: Dobby And Winky

Once again a trio, we went up to the Owlery that evening to find Pig, so that Harry could send Sirius a letter telling him that he had managed to get past the dragon. On the way, Harry filled me in on everything Sirius had told him about Karkaroff.

"Fits, doesn't it?" I said. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup! I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here , I'll do it. "

Pig was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Harry's head, hooting mentally. I snatched Pig out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg.

There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" I said as he carried Pig to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious."

"Thanks, Ron." said Harry, appreciatively.

Hermione, however, leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at me.

"Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," she said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" I joked. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."

I threw Pig out of the window. He plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was much longer and heavier than usual. We watched Pig disappear into the darkness

"Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry, Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now." I blabbed. I just couldn't help it. The excitement was still going through me.

When we entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface. Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.

We sat down and ate together. It felt like Christmas, having us all together again. We caught up on what I had missed, and vice versa, and since he wasn't facing the dragon anymore, laughed at how he had felt.

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said. "It's in the tournament rules."

"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" several people echoed.

"DO YOU WANT ME TO OPEN IT?!" he yelled to the common room.

The others yelled back enthusiastically for him to open the egg. Lee passed it to him, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

The moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. It sounded like a thousand screaming deaths over and over

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

"What the fuck was that?" said Seamus, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee! Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing, maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower. Harry."

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch"

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.

"Just my little joke, Neville."

Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"

"Yep," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful...get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."

"How do you get in there?" Hermione said in her trying to be innocent, but I knew she had a hidden agenda voice.

"Easy," said Fred, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -" He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. "Why?"

"Nothing," said Hermione quickly.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

Hermione didn't answer.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.

"Oh - sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -"

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.

"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

It was nearly one in the morning when we finally went up to our dorms. I got into my pajamas and laid down.

Everything about the day had been wicked. Seeing my best mate succeed in his task, getting him back, and the brilliant party. It felt like Christmas as and my birthday combined.

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. The Durmstrang ship on the lake kept small fires on them to keep the inhabitants warm. The Beauxbatons carriage looked as if it was pretty chilly too. Hagrid was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well cared for with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes was enough to make our entire Care of Magical Creatures class feel a bit drunk This did not help with the task at hand, which were tending to the horrible skrewts.

"I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid told us. "Thought we'd jus' try an see if they fancied a kip...we'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes..."

There were now only ten skrewts left, as the more dominant ones had killed off the weaklings. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. They were even more hideous looking now. And Hagrid had the nerve to give them fuzzy pink blankets.

"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."

Unfortunately the skrewts didnt take to hibernation, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, "Don panic, now, don' panic!" while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead - had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Harry, Hermione, and I, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together we managed to restrain and tie up nine of the skrewts, though at the cost of numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one skrewt was left.

"Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid shouted as Harry and I used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. "Jus' try an slip the rope 'round his sting, so he won hurt any o' the others!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" I shouted angrily as me and Harry backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the skrewt off with our sparks.

"Well, well, well...this does look like fun."

Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking at the chaos. A bad feeling came over me, as Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the skrewt that was cornering us and flattened it.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him with shiny gold teeth. Very unattractive.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid, frowning.

Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said.

"What are these fascinating creatures called?" she asked.

"Please don't tell her, please don't tell her." Harry whispered.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," grunted Hagrid.

We both face palmed ourselves.

"Really?" said Rita, full of interest. "I've never heard of them before. Where do they come from?"

That did bring up a question that was never answered. Where had Hagrid got the skrewts from?

Hermione, who seemed to be thinking the same thing, said quickly, "They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they. Harry?"

"What? Oh yeah...ouch...interesting," said Harry as she stepped on his foot.

"Ah, you're here. Harry!" said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. "So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?"

"Yes," said Harry, proudly. Hagrid beamed at him.

"Lovely," said Rita. "Really lovely. Been teaching long?" she added to Hagrid.

Harry noticed her eyes travel over Dean (who had a nasty cut across one cheek). Lavender (whose robes were badly singed), Seamus (who was nursing several burnt fingers), and then to the cabin windows, where most of the class stood, their noses pressed against the glass waiting to see if the coast was clear.

"This is o'ny me second year," said Hagrid.

"Lovely...I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these - er - Bang-Ended Scoots."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid said eagerly. "Er - yeah, why not?"

I had a very bad feeling, but there was no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Rita Skeeter seeing, and from the looks of the others, they thought the same way, so we had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and Rita Skeeter made arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson.

"Well, good-bye, Harry!" Rita Skeeter called merrily to him as he set off with Hermione and I. "Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!"

"She'll twist everything he says," Harry said under his breath.

"Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything," said Hermione.

"Oh you know full well that they are, Mione. But Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledore's never sacked him" I said, trying to make light of the situation. "Worst that can happen is Hagrid will have to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry...did I say worst? I meant best."

Harry and Hermione laughed, and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch.

Double Divination that afternoon made me realize just how much I missed Harry. We were still doing star charts and predictions, and now that we were talking again, the whole thing seemed very funny. Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with the pair of us when we had been predicting our own horrific deaths, quickly became irritated as we laughed through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life.

"I would think," she said, in a mystical whisper that did not conceal her obvious annoyance, "that some of us" - she stared very meaningfully at Harry- "might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult the orb overpowered me. I arose, I settled myself before it, and I gazed into its crystalline depths...and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?"

"An ugly old bat in outsize specs?" I muttered under his breath.

Harry fought hard to keep his face straight.

"Death, my dears."

Parvati and Lavender both put their hands over their mouths, looking horrified.

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, nodding impressively, "it comes, ever closer, it circles overhead like a vulture, ever lower...ever lower over the castle..."

"It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before," Harry said as we left the classroom. "But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."

"You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost," I said, chortling. "At least we didn't get homework. I hope Hermione got loads of Professor Vector, I love not working when she is..."

But Hermione wasn't at dinner, nor was she in the library when we went to look for her. The only person in there was Viktor Krum. I hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, waiting for an opportunity to talk to him. Hermione used to make me feel wrong about doing it when she was here.

But then I saw that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and I decided against it.

"Wonder where she's got to?" I said as we went back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Dunno...balderdash."

But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of racing feet behind us announced Hermione's arrival.

"Harry!" she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). "Harry, you've got to come - you've got to come, the most amazing thing happened - please -"

She seized Harry's arm and started to try to drag him back along the corridor.

"What's the matter?" Harry said.

"I'll show you when we get there - oh come on, quick -"

Harry looked around at me. I gave him an intriguing look back and we hurried off

"Oh don't mind me!" the Fat Lady called irritably after us. "Don't apologize for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?"

"Yeah, thanks!" I shouted over my shoulder.

"Hermione, where are we going?" Harry asked, after she had led us down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the entrance hall.

"You'll see, you'll see in a minute!" said Hermione excitedly.

She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward a door that neither of us had ever been through before. We followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one that led to Snape's dungeon, they found themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

"Oh hang on..." said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. "Wait a minute, Hermione..."

"What?" She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.

"I know what this is about," said Harry.

He nudged me and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

"Hermione!" I exclaimed when I figured it out. "You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!"

"No, no, I'm not!" she said hastily. "And it's not spew, Ron -"

"Changed the name, have you?" I said, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I'm not doing it!"

"I'm not asking you to!" Hermione said impatiently. "I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found - oh come on, Harry, I want to show you!"

She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside.

I walked in behind them and looked around at the enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward him from the middle of the room, squealing, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!"

Suddenly, Harry was bombarded and latched onto by a house elf.

"D-Dobby?" Harry gasped.

"It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the elf. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry. He looked pretty much the same as the first time I had seen him. All except the clothes, which were very different.

When i first met the house elf, he was in a dirty and moldy looking pillowcase. Now, he was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's soccer shorts, and odd socks. One was black, and the other looked like one of Ginny's, covered in pink and orange stripes.

"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Harry said in amazement.

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!

"Winky?" said Harry. "She's here too?"

"Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. As we followed, at least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed.

"Winky, sir!" he said.

Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously had some concept of style. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care other clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.

"Hello, Winky," said Harry.

Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Oh dear," said Hermione. "Winky, don't cry, please don't..."

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.

"Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs.

"Er - yeah, okay," said Harry.

Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for the three of us, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits.

"Good service!" I said, very much impressed. Hermione frowned at me, but the elves all looked delighted.

"Told you." I mouthed to an irritated looking Hermione.

"How long have you been here, Dobby?" Harry asked as Dobby handed around the tea.

"Only a week. Harry Potter, sir!" said Dobby happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed -"

At this, Winky howled even harder.

"Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing.

Hermione, however, said, "Good for you, Dobby!"

"Thank you, miss!" said Dobby, grinning at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid. Harry Potter...Dobby likes being free!"

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as if he were the plague. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume other crying.

"And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!" said Dobby delightedly.

At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference.

"And then Dobby had the idea. Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"

"That's not very much!" Hermione shouted from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating.

"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, "but Dobby beat him down, miss...Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."

"And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?" Hermione asked kindly.

The poor elf looked positively insulted.

"Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!"

"Ashamed?" said Hermione blankly. "But - Winky, come on! It's Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you -"

But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, "You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!"

"Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter," squeaked Dobby confidentially. "Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it."

"Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?" Harry asked.

"Oh no, sir, no," said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. "'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them - though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to - to -"

Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Harry closer. Harry bent forward. Dobby whispered something in his ear, and then gave a frightened sort of giggle.

"But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter," he said, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him."

"But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?" Harry asked him, grinning.

"Dobby - Dobby could," he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. "Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were - were - bad Dark wizards!"

Dobby stood for a moment, looking like i used to when i was caught being bad as a little kid. Then, he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table.

"Thank you. Harry Potter, thank you," said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.

"You just need a bit of practice," Harry said.

"Practice!" squealed Winky furiously. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!"

"They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" said Dobby defiantly. "Dobby doesn't care what they think anymore!"

"Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!" moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. "My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her...oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.

"Winky," said Hermione firmly, "I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know -"

"You is seeing my master?" said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Hermione, "he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament."

"Mr. Bagman comes too?" squeaked Winky, and to our surprise, she looked angry again. "Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"

"Bagman - bad?" said Harry.

"Oh yes," Winky said, nodding her head furiously, "My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying...Winky - Winky keeps her master's secrets..."

She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, "Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"

We left Winky to her crying and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.

"Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!" he said happily, pointing at his bare chest.

"Tell you what, Dobby," I said,"I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you? We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you, but it'll go well with your tea cozy."

Dobby looked very much excited.

As we prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, but Harry and I loaded our pockets with cream cakes and pies.

"Thanks a lot!" Harry said to the elves. "See you, Dobby!"

"Harry Potter...can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?" Dobby asked tentatively.

" 'Course you can," said Harry, and Dobby beamed.

"You know what?" I said to Hermione and Harry as we left the kitchens and climbed the steps into the entrance hall again. "All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens - well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"

"I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know," said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. "Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!"

"Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky," said Harry.

"Oh she'll cheer up," said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. "Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man."

"She seems to love him" I said, stuffing my mouth with a cream cake.

"Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" said Harry. "Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?"

"Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department," said Hermione, "and let's face it...he's got a point, hasn't he?"

"I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch. At least Bagman's got a sense of humor."

"Don't let Percy hear you saying that," Hermione said, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he? Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy."

All three of us laughed loudly as we went through the portrait hole.