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The prospect of talking face to face with Sirius was all that sustained Harry over the next fortnight, the only bright spot on a horizon that had never looked darker. The shock of finding himself school champion had worn off slightly now, and the fear of what was facing him was starting to sink in. The first task was drawing steadily nearer; he felt as though it was crouching ahead of him like some horrific monster, barring his path. He had never suffered nerves like these; they were way beyond anything he had felt before a Quidditch match, not even his last one against Slytherin, which had decided who would win the Quidditch Cup. Harry was finding it hard to think about the future at all, he felt as if his whole life had been leading up to, and would finish with, the first task…
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|Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire|
|The Four Champions||The Weighing of the Wands||The Hungarian Horntail||The First Task||The House-Elf Liberation Front|