Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (86 page)

He looked up at Grawp, who was now pulling back the pine with an expression of detached pleasure on his boulderish face; the roots were creaking as he ripped them away from the ground.

‘Well, I reckon tha’s enough fer one day,’ said Hagrid. ‘We’ll – er – we’ll go back now, shall we?’

Harry and Hermione nodded. Hagrid shouldered his crossbow again and, still pinching his nose, led the way back into the trees.

Nobody spoke for a while, not even when they heard the distant crash that meant Grawp had pulled over the pine tree at last. Hermione’s face was pale and set. Harry could not think of a single thing to say. What on earth was going to happen when somebody found out that Hagrid had hidden Grawp in the Forbidden Forest? And he had promised that he, Ron and Hermione would continue Hagrid’s totally pointless attempts to civilise the giant. How could Hagrid, even with his immense capacity to delude himself that fanged monsters were loveably harmless, fool himself that Grawp would ever be fit to mix with humans?

‘Hold it,’ said Hagrid abruptly, just as Harry and Hermione were struggling through a patch of thick knotgrass behind him. He pulled an arrow out of the quiver over his shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. Harry and Hermione raised their wands; now that they had stopped walking, they, too, could hear movement close by.

‘Oh, blimey,’ said Hagrid quietly.

‘I thought we told you, Hagrid,’ said a deep male voice, ‘that you are no longer welcome here?’

A man’s naked torso seemed for an instant to be floating towards them through the dappled green half-light; then they saw that his waist joined smoothly into a horse’s chestnut body. This centaur had a proud, high-cheekboned face and long black hair. Like Hagrid, he was armed; a quiverful of arrows and a longbow were slung over his shoulders.

‘How are yeh, Magorian?’ said Hagrid warily.

The trees behind the centaur rustled and four or five more centaurs emerged behind him. Harry recognised the black-bodied and bearded Bane, whom he had met nearly four years ago on the same night he had met Firenze. Bane gave no sign that he had ever seen Harry before.

‘So,’ he said, with a nasty inflection in his voice, before turning immediately to Magorian. ‘We agreed, I think, what we would do if this human ever showed his face in the Forest again?’

‘“This human” now, am I?’ said Hagrid testily. ‘Jus’ fer stoppin’ all of yeh committin’ murder?’

‘You ought not to have meddled, Hagrid,’ said Magorian. ‘Our ways are not yours, nor are our laws. Firenze has betrayed and dishonoured us.’

‘I dunno how yeh work that out,’ said Hagrid impatiently. ‘He’s done nothin’ except help Albus Dumbledore –’

‘Firenze has entered into servitude to humans,’ said a grey centaur with a hard, deeply lined face.

‘Servitude!’
said Hagrid scathingly. ‘He’s doin’ Dumbledore a favour is all –’

‘He is peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans,’ said Magorian quietly. ‘There can be no return from such disgrace.’

‘If yeh say so,’ said Hagrid, shrugging, ‘but personally I think yeh’re makin’ a big mistake –’

‘As are you, human,’ said Bane, ‘coming back into our Forest when we warned you –’

‘Now, yeh listen ter me,’ said Hagrid angrily. ‘I’ll have less of the “our” Forest, if it’s all the same ter yeh. It’s not up ter yeh who comes an’ goes in here –’

‘No more is it up to you, Hagrid,’ said Magorian smoothly. ‘I shall let you pass today because you are accompanied by your young –’

‘They’re not his!’ interrupted Bane contemptuously. ‘Students, Magorian, from up at the school! They have probably already profited from the traitor Firenze’s teachings.’

‘Nevertheless,’ said Magorian calmly, ‘the slaughter of foals is a terrible crime – we do not touch the innocent. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place. You forfeited the friendship of the centaurs when you helped the traitor Firenze escape us.’

‘I won’ be kept outta the Fores’ by a bunch o’ old mules like yeh!’ said Hagrid loudly.

‘Hagrid,’ said Hermione in a high-pitched and terrified voice, as both Bane and the grey centaur pawed at the ground, ‘let’s go, please let’s go!’

Hagrid moved forwards, but his crossbow was still raised and his eyes were still fixed threateningly upon Magorian.

‘We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Hagrid!’ Magorian called after them, as the centaurs slipped out of sight. ‘And our tolerance is waning!’

Hagrid turned and gave every appearance of wanting to walk straight back to Magorian.

‘Yeh’ll tolerate ’im as long as he’s here, it’s as much his Forest as yours!’ he yelled, as Harry and Hermione both pushed with all their might against Hagrid’s moleskin waistcoat in an effort to keep him moving forwards. Still scowling, he looked down; his expression changed to mild surprise at the sight of them both pushing him; he seemed not to have felt it.

‘Calm down, you two,’ he said, turning to walk on while they panted along behind him. ‘Ruddy old mules, though, eh?’

‘Hagrid,’ said Hermione breathlessly, skirting the patch of nettles they had passed on their way there, ‘if the centaurs don’t want humans in the Forest, it doesn’t really look as though Harry and I will be able –’

‘Ah, you heard what they said,’ said Hagrid dismissively, ‘they wouldn’t hurt foals – I mean, kids. Anyway, we can’ let ourselves be pushed aroun’ by that lot.’

‘Nice try,’ Harry murmured to Hermione, who looked crestfallen.

At last they rejoined the path and, after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; they were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting.

‘Was that another goal?’ asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. ‘Or d’yeh reckon the match is over?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Hermione miserably. Harry saw that she looked much the worse for wear; her hair was full of twigs and leaves, her robes were ripped in several places and there were numerous scratches on her face and arms. He knew he must look little better.

‘I reckon it’s over, yeh know!’ said Hagrid, still squinting towards the stadium. ‘Look – there’s people comin’ out already – if yeh two hurry yeh’ll be able ter blend in with the crowd an’ no one’ll know yeh weren’t there!’

‘Good idea,’ said Harry. ‘Well … see you later, then, Hagrid.’

‘I don’t believe him,’ said Hermione in a very unsteady voice, the moment they were out of earshot of Hagrid. ‘I don’t believe him. I
really
don’t believe him.’

‘Calm down,’ said Harry.

‘Calm down!’ she said feverishly. ‘A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we’re supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I – don’t –
believe
– him!’

‘We haven’t got to do anything yet!’ Harry tried to reassure her in a quiet voice, as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufflepuffs heading back towards the castle. ‘He’s not asking us to do anything unless he gets chucked out and that might not even happen.’

‘Oh, come off it, Harry!’ said Hermione angrily, stopping dead in her tracks so that the people behind had to swerve to avoid her. ‘Of course he’s going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest, after what we’ve just seen, who can blame Umbridge?’

There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears. ‘You didn’t mean that,’ said Harry quietly. ‘No … well … all right … I didn’t,’ she said, wiping her eyes angrily. ‘But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself – for
us
?’

‘I dunno –’

‘And I wish they’d stop singing that stupid song,’ said Hermione miserably, ‘haven’t they gloated enough?’

A great tide of students was moving up the sloping lawns from the pitch.

‘Oh, let’s get in before we have to meet the Slytherins,’ said Hermione.

‘Hermione …’ said Harry slowly.

The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Slytherins, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly towards the castle, bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders.

‘No?’ said Hermione in a hushed voice.

‘YES!’ said Harry loudly.

‘HARRY! HERMIONE!’ yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. ‘WE DID IT! WE WON!’

They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron’s head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall and out of sight. Harry and Hermione watched them go, beaming, until the last echoing strains of ‘Weasley is our King’ died away. Then they turned to each other, their smiles fading.

‘We’ll save our news till tomorrow, shall we?’ said Harry.

‘Yes, all right,’ said Hermione wearily. ‘I’m not in any hurry.’

They climbed the steps together. At the front doors both instinctively looked back at the Forbidden Forest. Harry was not sure whether or not it was his imagination, but he rather thought he saw a small cloud of birds erupting into the air over the treetops in the distance, almost as though the tree in which they had been nesting had just been pulled up by the roots.

Ron’s euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn’t settle to anything next day. All he wanted to do was talk over the match, so Harry and Hermione found it very difficult to find an opening in which to mention Grawp. Not that either of them tried very hard; neither was keen to be the one to bring Ron back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion. As it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, where they had less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first – he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by every Gryffindor who walked past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of ‘Weasley is our King’ – but after a while he agreed that some fresh air might do him good.

They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.

‘Well, I mean, I’d already let in that one of Davies’s, so I wasn’t feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought –
you can do this
! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop – my right, obviously, his left – but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left – his right, I mean – and – well – you saw what happened,’ he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them – a bunch of gossiping third-year Hufflepuffs – had heard him. ‘And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later – What?’ Ron asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry’s face. ‘Why are you grinning?’

‘I’m not,’ said Harry quickly, and looked down at his Transfiguration notes, attempting to straighten his face. The truth was that Ron had just reminded Harry forcibly of another Gryffindor Quidditch player who had once sat rumpling his hair under this very tree. ‘I’m just glad we won, that’s all.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ron slowly, savouring the words, ‘
we won.
Did you see the look on Chang’s face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?’

‘I suppose she cried, did she?’ said Harry bitterly.

‘Well, yeah – more out of temper than anything, though …’ Ron frowned slightly. ‘But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn’t you?’

‘Er –’ said Harry.

‘Well, actually … no, Ron,’ said Hermione with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at him apologetically. ‘As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies’s first goal.’

Ron’s carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. ‘You didn’t watch?’ he said faintly, looking from one to the other. ‘You didn’t see me make any of those saves?’

‘Well – no,’ said Hermione, stretching out a placatory hand towards him. ‘But Ron, we didn’t want to leave – we had to!’

‘Yeah?’ said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. ‘How come?’

‘It was Hagrid,’ said Harry. ‘He decided to tell us why he’s been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway …’

The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron’s indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity.

‘
He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?
’

‘Yep,’ said Harry grimly.

‘No,’ said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. ‘No, he can’t have.’

‘Well, he has,’ said Hermione firmly. ‘Grawp’s about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me,’ she snorted, ‘as
Hermy
.’

Ron gave a nervous laugh.

‘And Hagrid wants us to …?’

‘Teach him English, yeah,’ said Harry.

‘He’s lost his mind,’ said Ron in an almost awed voice.

‘Yes,’ said Hermione irritably, turning a page of
Intermediate Transfiguration
and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses. ‘Yes, I’m starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise.’