C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N THE HUNGARIAN HORNTAIL he prospect of talking face-to-face with Sirius was all that T 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 had started to sink in. The first task was draw- ing steadily nearer; he felt as though it were crouching ahead of him like some horrific monster, barring his path. He had never suf- fered nerves like these; they were way beyond anything he had ex- perienced 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 though his whole life had been leading up to, and would finish with, the first task. . . . Admittedly, he didn’t see how Sirius was going to make him feel any better about having to perform an unknown piece of difficult and dangerous magic in front of hundreds of people, but the mere ‘ 313 ‘