Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Further discussion of Sirius Black plainly wasn’t what Ron had had in mind.

“Or we could have a game of chess, he said hastily, “or Gobstones. Percy left a set—”

“No, let’s visit Hagrid,” said Harry firmly.

So they got their cloaks from their dormitories and set off through the portrait hole (“Stand and fight, you yellow bellied mongrels!”), down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors.

They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering, powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid’s cabin looked like an iced cake.

Ron knocked, but there was no answer.

“He’s not out, is he?” said Hermione, who was shivering under her cloak.

Ron had his ear to the door.

“There’s a weird noise,” he said. “Listen—is that Fang?”

Harry and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

“Think we’d better go and get someone?” said Ron nervously.

“Hagrid!” called Harry, thumping the door. “Hagrid, are you in there?”

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest.

“You’ve heard?” he bellowed, and he flung himself onto Harry’s neck.

Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Harry, about to collapse under Hagrid’s weight, was rescued by Ron and Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard.

“Hagrid, what is it?” said Hermione, aghast.

Harry spotted an official looking letter lying open on the table.

“What’s this, Hagrid?”

Hagrid’s sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harry, who picked it up and read aloud:

Dear Mr. Hagrid,

Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident.

“Well, that’s okay then, Hagrid!” said Ron, clapping Hagrid oil the shoulder. But Hagrid continued to sob, and waved one of his gigantic hands, inviting Harry to read on.

However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.

Yours in fellowship…

There followed a list of the school governors.

“Oh,” said Ron. “But you said Buckbeak isn’t a bad hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he’ll get off—”

“Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures!” choked Hagrid, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “They’ve got it in fer interestin’ creatures!”

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid’s cabin made Harry, Ron, and Hermione whip around. Buckbeak the hippogriff was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.

“I couldn’ leave him tied up out there in the snow!” choked Hagrid. “All on his own! At Christmas.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another. They had never seen eye to eye with Hagrid about what he called “interesting creatures” and other people called “terrifying monsters.” On the other hand, there didn’t seem to be any particular harm in Buckbeak. In fact, by Hagrid’s usual standards, he was positively cute.

“You’ll have to put up a good strong defense, Hagrid,” said Hermione, sitting down and laying a hand on Hagrid’s massive forearm. “I’m sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe.”

“Won’t make no diff’rence!” sobbed Hagrid. “Them Disposal devils, they’re all in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket! Scared o’ him! And if I lose the case, Buckbeak—”

Hagrid drew his finger swiftly across his throat, then gave a great wail and lurched forward, his face in his arms.

“What about Dumbledore, Hagrid?” said Harry.