Mark Reads ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’: Chapter 12

In the twelfth chapter of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, everything is weird and kind of exciting and Peeves is the best and THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!!! Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to read Harry Potter.



I’m so happy for these kids to be back at Hogwarts; I’m already anticipating the unbelievable amount of shenaniganry they’ll be creating. OH GOD SO EXCITE.

  • A large, ren, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron’s head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped–narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry’s feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks. People all around them shrieked and starting pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Harry looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

I like using Peeves as a filter: if you don’t like him, you simply aren’t human.

But that goes both ways, guys:

  • Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

    “Hiya, Harry!”

    It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was something of a hero

    “Hi, Colin,” said Harry warily.

    “Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother’s starting! My brother Dennis!”

It’s bad enough that I had completely forgotten about Colin Creevey, but it’s even worse to know THERE IS ANOTHER ONE. Oh god, please don’t be annoying. PLEASE DON’T BE ANNOYING.

  • …all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Harry recognized as Hagrid’s moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey’s eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, I fell in the lake! He looked positively delighted about it.

Jesus, WHO BRED AND HAD THESE TWO CHILDREN. Oh god, they’re like Lovecraft-ian creations, only UNBELIEVABLY POSITIVE.

This bit of foreshadowing made me giggle, though:

  • Harry caught a glimpse of Cho, the Ravenclaw Seeker, cheering Stewart Ackerly as he sat down. For a fleeting second, Harry had a strange desire to join the Ravenclaw table.

lol harry has a crush he is growing up how adorable awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

But wait! More Dennis Creevey???

  • “Colin, I fell in!” he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. “It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!”

    “Cool!” said Colin, just as excitedly. “It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!”

    “Wow!” said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

    “Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?”

I think I’ve come to terms with why I don’t like the Creevers: If, by some magical process, you threw me into the Harry Potter world tomorrow, and I existed on these pages, I would act exactly like these two dudes. OMG HERMIONE OMG THAT IS HAGRID OMG THAT IS A RIDGEBACK OMG OMG OMG IT’S DUMBLEDORE

I judge out of self-hate.

I also relate far too much to Hermione. It’s frightening.

  • “But they get paid?” she said. “They get holidays, don’t they? And–sick leave, and pensions, and everything?”

    Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

    “Sick leave and pensions?” he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. “House-elves don’t want sick leaves and pensions!”

    Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

This is an accurate depiction of my rebellious self all through high school. Not a lie at all. Jesus, what was wrong with me? Oh that’s right, I knew little to nothing about how the world worked.

Not to be discouraging though. While Hermione is being a bit silly, she does understand one of the most basic ways of protest: self-exclusion. And while it’s certainly not the most powerful method, it’s definitely one of the most empowering.

And maybe that’s something you never considered or, perhaps you did, but thought it was strange. It’s why people choose not to buy certain brands or shop certain places. And Hermione understands that you can’t truly protest something if you’re still allowing it to happen on a personal level.


  • “It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”


Of course, before Dumbledore can explain why, he’s interrupted. Like every character in this book so far. But it’s ok, because then we get to meet MAD-EYE MOODY, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

  • The lightning had thrown the man’ face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing.


But we’ll get more of him in chapter 13, apparently. Let’s move on to the Tournament and my lovely obsession with Dumbledore.

  • “It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

    “You’re JOKING!” said Fred Weasley loudly.

    The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

    “I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer abut a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…”

    Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

    “Er–but maybe this is not the time…no…” said Dumbledore…

oh god i love you deeply, Dumbledore.

  • “The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities–until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”



  • “Only students who are of age–that is to say, seventeen years or older–will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This–” Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious–“is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them.”


No, seriously, what goes on during the Triwizard Tournament that a) is so dangerous, b) can cause death, and c) can only be tolerated by older wizards and witches?