Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire Audiobook by Stephen Fry


The villagers of Little Hangleron still known as it “the Riddle apartment,” even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, a few of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a exceptional­looking manor, and without problems the biggest and grandest constructing for miles round, the Riddle condominium was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied.

The Little Hagletons all agreed that the historical condo used to be “creepy.” 1/2 a century ago, whatever strange and horrible had occurred there, some thing that the older inhabitants of the village still favored to discuss when subject matters for gossip have been scarce.

The story had been picked over so sometimes, and had been embroidered in so many places, that no person was particularly certain what the reality used to be anymore. Each variation of the tale, nevertheless, started in the equal position: Fifty years earlier than, at dawn on a exceptional summer season’s morning when the Riddle condominium had still been good kept and ambitious, a maid had entered the drawing room to seek out all three Riddles dead.

The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village and roused as many humans as she would.

“lying there with their eyes extensive open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things!”

The police had been summoned, and the entire of Little Hangleton had seethed with bowled over curiosity and in poor health­disguised excitement. No one wasted their breath pretending to feel very unhappy in regards to the Riddles, for that they had been most unpopular.

Aged Mr. And Mrs. Riddle had been wealthy, snobbish, and rude, and their grown­up son, Tom, had been, if anything, worse. All of the villagers cared about used to be the identification of their assassin ­­ for evidently, three it appears healthful folks did not all drop useless of usual factors on the same night time.

The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring alternate that night; the entire village gave the impression to have became out to talk about the murders. They had been rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddles’ prepare dinner arrived dramatically in their midst and announced to the all of a sudden silent pub that a man known as Frank Bryce had simply been arrested.

“Frank!” cried a couple of individuals. “not ever!”

Frank Bryce was once the Riddles’ gardener. He lived alone in a run­down cottage on the grounds of the Riddle condominium. Frank had come again from the struggle with an awfully stiff leg and a nice dislike of crowds and loud noises, and had been working for the Riddles ever on account that.

There was once a rush to buy the cook dinner drinks and listen to extra small print.

“at all times suggestion he was ordinary,” she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. “Unfriendly, like. I am definite if I’ve furnished him a cuppa as soon as, I’ve furnished it a hundred instances. On no account desired to combine, he failed to.”

“Ah, now,” mentioned a lady at the bar, “he had a hard war, Frank. He likes the quiet existence. That’s no motive to ­­”

“Who else had a key to the back door, then?” barked the cook. “there may be been a spare key putting within the gardener’s cottage far back as i can consider! No person pressured the door final night! No broken home windows! All Frank had to do used to be creep as much as the large residence whilst we was once all drowsing…”

The villagers exchanged dark looks.

“I normally suggestion that he had a nasty seem about him, right sufficient,” grunted a person at the bar.

“war became him funny, in the event you question me,” mentioned the landlord.

“told you i wouldn’t prefer to get on the flawed aspect of Frank, did not I, Dot?” mentioned an excited lady within the nook.

“Horrible mood,” stated Dot, nodding fervently. “I do not forget, when he was a child…”

through the next morning, hardly someone in Little Hangleton doubted that Frank Bryce had killed the Riddles.

But over within the neighboring city of best Hangleton, in the dark and dingy police station, Frank was stubbornly repeating, over and over, that he was once innocent, and that the only individual he had visible near the condo on the day of the Riddles’ deaths had been a teenage boy, a stranger, dark­haired and pale. Nobody else in the village had seen one of these boy, and the police were really sure Frank had invented him.

Then, simply when things had been looking very serious for Frank, the file on the Riddles’ our bodies got here back and changed the whole thing.

The police had on no account learn an odder file. A workforce of medical professionals had examined the bodies and had concluded that not one of the Riddles had been poisoned, stabbed, shot, strangles, suffocated, or (as far as they might inform) harmed in any respect. In fact (the document endured, in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment), the Riddles all appeared to be in perfet wellness ­­ apart from the truth that they had been all lifeless. The doctors did note (as if decided to find something flawed with the our bodies) that each of the Riddles had a seem of terror upon his or her face ­­ but as the frustrated police said, whoever heard of three humans being anxious to death!

As there was no proof that the Riddles had been murdered in any respect, the police have been

forced to let Frank go. The Riddles have been buried within the Little Hangleton churchyard, and their graves remained objects of curiosity for a whilst. To every person’s surprise, and amid a cloud of suspicion, Frank Bryce back to his cottage on the grounds of the Riddle condominium.

“‘S some distance as i’m involved, he killed them, and i do not care what the police say,” said Dot within the Hanged Man. “And if he had any decency, he’d leave here, understanding as how we is aware of he did it.”

but Frank didn’t go away. He stayed to have a tendency the garden for the subsequent loved ones who lived in the Riddle apartment, after which the next ­­ for neither family stayed long.

Might be it was once partly considering that of Frank that the new owners said there was a foul feeling about the situation, which, in the absence of inhabitants, began to fall into disrepair.

The rich man who owned the Riddle apartment in this day and age neither lived there nor put it to any use; they mentioned in the village that he saved it for “tax causes,” though no person was once very clear what these perhaps. The rich owner continued to pay Frank to do the gardening, nevertheless. Frank used to be nearing his seventy­seventh birthday now, very deaf, his unhealthy leg stiffer than ever, but could be noticeable pottering across the flower beds in nice climate, although the weeds had been beginning to creep up on him, are attempting as he might to suppress them.

Weeds weren’t the one matters Frank had to take care of both. Boys from the village made a addiction of throwing stones via the home windows of the Riddle condo.