The Potter Twins and the Order of the Phoenix {5}

22. Hagrid's Tale

"There's a story at the bottom of this bottle and I'm the pen" ~ Dear Maria, Count me In, All Time Low

Within seconds of hearing Hermione's announcement, Harry has sprinted up to the boys' dormitories to fetch the Invisibility Cloak and I've bolted upstairs to collect Marauder's Map from my trunk. 

We creep through the portrait hole and cover ourselves hastily in the Cloak--Ron has grown so much he now needs to crouch to prevent his feet showing--then, moving slowly and cautiously, we proceed down the many staircases, pausing at intervals to check on the map for signs of Filch or Mrs Morris. We're very lucky; we see nobody but Nearly Headless Nick, who is gliding along absent-mindedly humming something that sounds horribly like 'Weasley is our King'.  We creep across the Entrance Hall and out into the silent, snowy grounds. With a great leap of my heart, Harry see little golden squares of light ahead and smoke coiling up from Hagrid's chimney. Harry and I set off at a quick march, the other two jostling and bumping along behind us. We crunch excitedly through the thickening snow until at last we reach the wooden front door. When Harry raises his fist and knocks three times, a dog started barking frantically inside.

"Hagrid, it's us!" I call through the keyhole.

"Shoulda known!" says a gruff voice.

We beam at each other under the Cloak; we can tell by Hagrid's voice that he is pleased. "Bin home three seconds ... out the way, Fang ... out the way, yeh dozy dog ..."

The bolt is drawn back, the door creaks open and Hagrid's head appears in the gap.

Hermione screams. 

"Merlin's beard, keep it down!" Hagrid hastily, staring wildly over their heads. "Under that Cloak, are yeh? Well, get in, get in!"

"I'm sorry!" Hermione gasps, as the four of us squeeze past Hagrid into the house and pull the Cloak off ourselves so he can see us. "I just--oh, Hagrid!"

"It's nuthin', it's nuthin'!" says Hagrid hastily, shutting the door behind us and hurrying to close all the curtains, but Hermione continues to gaze up at him in horror.  '

Hagrid's hair is matted with congealed blood and his left eye has been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple and black bruising. There are many cuts on his face and hands, some of them still bleeding, and he is moving gingerly, which makes me suspect broken ribs. It is obvious that he has only just got home: a thick black travelling cloak lays over the back of a chair and a haversack large enough to carry several small children leans against the wall inside the door. Hagrid himself, twice the size of a normal man, is now limping over to the fire and placing a copper kettle over it.

"What happened to you?" Harry demands while Fang dances around us. 

"Told yeh, nuthin'," Hagrid says firmly. "Want a cuppa?"

"Come off it," Ron says, "you're in a right state!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, I'm fine,"Hagrid says, straightening up and turning to beam at us, but wincing. "Blimey, it's good ter see yeh three again--had good summers, did yeh?"

"Hagrid, you've been attacked!" Ron says. 

"Fer the las' time, it's nuthin'!" Hagrid says firmly.

"Would you say it was nothing if one of us turned up with a pound of mince instead of a face?" Ron demands. 

"You ought to go and see Madam Pomfrey, Hagrid," says Hermione anxiously, "some of those cuts look nasty."

"I'm dealin' with it, all righ?" Hagrid says repressively. 

He walks across to the enormous wooden table that stands in the middle of his cabin and twitches aside a tea towel that had been lying on it. Underneath is a raw, bloody, green-tinged steak slightly larger than the average car tyre.

"You're not going to eat that, are you, Hagrid?" says Ron, leaning in for a closer look. "It looks poisonous."

"It's s'posed ter look like that, it's dragon meat," Hagrid says. "An' I didn' get it ter eat."

He picks up the steak and slaps it over the left side of his face. Greenish blood trickles down into his beard as he gives a soft moan of satisfaction.

"Tha's better. It helps with the stingin', yeh know."

"Are you planning on telling us what happened to you?" I ask carefully. 

"Can't, Haylee. Top secret. More'n me job's worth ter tell yeh that."

"Did the giants beat you up, Hagrid?" Hermione asks quietly.

Hagrid's fingers slip on the dragon steak and it slides squelchingly on to his chest.

"Giants?" says Hagrid, catching the steak before it reaches his belt and slapping it back over his face, "who said anythin' abou' giants? Who yeh bin talkin' to? Who's told yeh what I've--who's said I've bin--eh?"

"We guessed," she says apologetically.