Here's another chapter, just cause I wanted to post it hehe. Please R/R xxxx

Chapter 4

Talons and Tea Leaves

When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore him," said Rachel, hurrying to walk beside Harry. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it…"

"Hey, Potter!" shrieked pug-faced Pansy Parkinson. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooo!"

Harry dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, next to George Weasley. Rachel sat down on Harry's opposite side, scowling.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you, Harry?"

"Malfoy," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked at where Malfoy was pretending to faint again.

"That little git," he said calmly. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," said Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors…"

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry lowly.

"Forget it, Harry," said George bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking… They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

Hermione was examining her new schedule.

"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," she said happily.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your schedule. Look—they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And"—Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving—"look—underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

Rachel leaned over the table to look, shocked at how stuffed Hermione's schedule was.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well, then—"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But—"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

Just then, Hagrid entered the Great Hall. He was wearing his long moleskin overcoat and was absentmindedly swinging a dead polecat from one enormous hand.

"All righ'?" he said eagerly, pausing on the way to the staff table. "Yer in my firs' ever lesson! Right after lunch! Bin up since five gettin' everythin' ready… Hope it's okay… Me, a teacher… hones'ly…"

He grinned broadly at them and headed off to the staff table, still swinging the polecat.

"Wonder what he's been getting ready?" said Rachel anxiously. The last thing she wanted was for Hagrid's first lesson to be a disaster.

The hall was starting to empty as people headed off toward their first lesson. Ron checked his course schedule.

"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there…"

They finished their breakfasts hastily, said good-bye to Fred and George, and walked back through the hall. As they passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy did yet another impression of a fainting fit. The shouts of laughter followed them into the entrance hall and Rachel scowled at them.

The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

"There's—got—to—be—a—shortcut," Ron panted as they climbed their seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

"I think it's this way," said Hermione, peering down the empty passage to the right.

"Can't be," said Rachel, looking out the window. "That's south, look, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window…"

"Aha!" a voice yelled, and Rachel jumped and turned, seeing a short man next to a fat dappled horse in the previously empty painting. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched in astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed facedown in the grass.

"Are you all right?" said Harry, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"

The knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn't get it out again. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and push up his visor to mop his sweating face.

"Listen," said Harry, "we're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, gave up, and cried, "On foot then, good sirs and gentle ladies! On! On!"

And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left side of the frame and out of sight.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armor. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead. Rachel was already quite tired of the workout she was getting.

"Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" yelled the knight, and they saw him reappear in front of an alarmed group of women in crinolines, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them. Rachel was relieved; they seemed to have finally found the classroom.

"Farewell!" cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Rachel looked at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

"'Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher,'" Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everyone got quiet.

"After you," said Ron, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first.

After Harry went Ron, and then Rachel grabbed hold of the silvery ladder, emerging into what seemed to be a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. There were at least twenty small, circular tables crammed inside it, surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. The curtains were closed and the many lamps were draped with red scarves. It was terribly hot, and it smelled of perfume in the room.

"Where is she?" Ron said when the rest of the class had assembled.

A misty voice came from the shadows.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight. She was thin, with large glasses and draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Many chains and beads hung around her spindly neck and her arms and hands were covered with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel sat themselves around the same round table.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire that roared underneath a brass cauldron. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field…"

Rachel looked at Hermione; she looked startled.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her, and edged her chair away from him. Rachel snorted.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball—if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, Two of our number will leave us forever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"My dears," said Professor Trelawney suddenly to Rachel and Lukas, who sat at the table beside hers. "With several years, you may find yourselves facing what you thought unimaginable as a child."

Rachel looked at Lukas, slightly scared. What could that mean?

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear"—she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up—"after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind… thank you…"

Rachel and Hermione partnered up and got their tea, drinking it once it wasn't too hot anymore and then swirling the dregs around. Hermione opened her book to pages five and six and peered into Rachel's cup.

"I see…" Hermione looked at the dregs. "I think I see a vase—that means you've a friend needing help—obviously Ron with his homework…"

Ron heard and all four of them snorted.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.

"A pumpkin," said Hermione, running her finger down the list of symbols. "It means you'll have a warm relationship. Don't forget about me when you finally get that." Hermione and Rachel giggled. "Oh, those are clouds! You're probably going to doubt that relationship—"

Both girls sniggered at the dregs.

"My turn," said Hermione, shoving her open book toward Rachel.

Rachel looked at Hermione's cup and swirled around the dregs.

"Well, that looks like a giraffe—there's going to be a misunderstanding in your live, 'Mione! And that's a… uh… a branch? You're gonna have new friends. And that's an egg! According to the book, you're going to be fertile—"

Both girls laughed again and Professor Trelawney whirled around.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch, and Rachel and Hermione stopped giggling and instead turned to look, too.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Rachel grinned at Hermione. Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…"

"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"The skull… danger in your path, my dear…"

Professor Trelawney gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy… my poor, dear boy… no… it is kinder not to say… no… don't ask me…"

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry.

Rachel snorted. The Grim? She hadn't a clue what it was. Ron, however, seemed horrified.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, shocked. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen—the worst omen—of death!"

Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Seamus Finnigan was tilting his head from side to side.

"It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" said Harry.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes… please pack away your things…"

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Rachel scoffed.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear"—she pointed at Neville—"you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stairs in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson. It took them so long to find her classroom that, early as they had left Divination, they were only just in time.

They sat close to the back of the room. The rest of the class kept shooting glances at Harry, which annoyed Rachel. She was one of the only ones that actually paid attention to Professor McGonagall as she told them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and she was amazed when she transformed herself into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Rachel raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and—"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Haney. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," Harry piped up after a silence.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, looking at Harry. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues—"

Professor McGonagall broke off, her nostrils white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney—"

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione and Rachel laughed. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried, and Lavender whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.

"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said."

Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'."

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," said Rachel calmly, rolling her eyes.

Ron looked at Rachel in disbelief.

"Rachel, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's—that's bad," he said. "My—my uncle Bilius saw one and—and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Rachel airily, leaning forward to grab a blueberry bagel.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone from beside Rachel. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Ron mouthed wordlessly at Hermione and Rachel. The former opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly.

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Hermione coolly.

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

He had touched a nerve. Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She snatched up her bag and stalked away.

Ron frowned after her.

"What's she talking about?" Rachel said. "We haven't got Arithmancy until Thursday."

After several minutes of awkward silence between Ron and Harry, Rachel got tired of it and scanned the Ravenclaw table for Jeremy, disappointed that she couldn't find him anywhere.

They went out for Care of Magical Creatures after lunch. The rain from yesterday was gone; the sky was a clear pale grey.

Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. Harry and Rachel walked beside them in silence as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Rachel scoffed when she spotted Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. She didn't exactly like the idea of taking Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. Malfoy was surely planning to muck up Hagrid's first ever lesson.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, leading them outside a kind of paddock, which was empty.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books—"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Rachel took out her own Spellotaped book.

"Hasn'—hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look—"

He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I—I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione and Rachel.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Malfoy. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so—so yeh've got yer books an'—an'—now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on…"

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him—"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry repeated.

"Careful, Potter, there's a dementor behind you—"

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Rachel turned and gasped. There were a dozen creatures trotting toward them. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles. The talons on their front legs were long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain that Hagrid held.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Rachel looked at the creatures in awe.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer—"

No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Rachel didn't like their whispers that much.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt.

"Right—who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Rachel didn't like how the hippogriffs threw their heads and clawed at the ground.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"I'll do it," said Harry.

There was an intake of breath from behind him, and both Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Harry, remember your tea leaves!"

Rachel turned and shushed them as Harry climbed over the fence.

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid. "Right then—let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled a gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. Rachel held her breath.

"Easy, now, Harry," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…"

Buckbeak stared at Harry.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry… now, bow…"

Harry gave a short bow and Rachel gasped when Buckbeak didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right—back away, now, Harry, easy does it—"

But then the hippogriff bent its scaly front knees and sank into a bow.

"Well done, Harry!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right—yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

The class broke into applause as Harry patted Buckbeak on the beak. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him! Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…"

Harry hoisted himself onto Buckbeak's back and Rachel squealed, gripping onto Hermione's shoulder out of fear. She didn't believe in the Grim they'd seen in the cup, but she felt incredibly anxious.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff's hindquarters.

Buckbeak flew into the sky and around the paddock and then headed back to the ground. Rachel watched in amazement.

"Good work, Harry!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

The rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Ron, Hermione, and Rachel practiced on a chestnut hippogriff while Harry watched.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loudly, and Rachel turned to watch as Malfoy patted Buckbeak's beak. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood covering his robes.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me—gotta get him outta here—"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Very shaken, the Care of Magical Creatures class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

"They should fire him straight away!" said Pansy Parkinson, who was in tears.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Rachel. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said Pansy, who ran up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rachel proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"D'you think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously.

"'Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Harry.

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried.

"Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him…" said Rachel, angry.

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Rachel, who wasn't eating either.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily.

They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all four of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly.

Ron looked at his watch.

"If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early…"

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly.

"I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," Harry said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the dementors yet, has he?"

So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole, glad to meet nobody on their way to the front doors, as they weren't entirely sure they were supposed to be out.

The grass was still wet and looked almost black in the twilight. When they reached Hagrid's hut, they knocked, and a voice growled, "C'min."

Hagrid was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his scrubbed wooden table; his boarhound, Fang, had his head in Hagrid's lap. One look told them that Hagrid had been drinking a lot; there was a pewter tankard almost as big as a bucket in front of him, and he seemed to be having difficulty getting them into focus.

"'Spect it's a record," he said thickly, when he recognized them. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

"You haven't been fired, Hagrid!" gasped Hermione.

"Not yet," said Hagrid miserably, taking a huge gulp of whatever was in the tankard. "But 's only a matter o' time, i'n't it, after Malfoy…"

"How is he?" said Ron as they all sat down. Rachel nervously fumbled with her sleeves. "It wasn't serious, was it?"

"Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could," said Hagrid dully, "but he's sayin' it's still agony… covered in bandages… moanin'…"

"He's faking it," said Harry immediately. "Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew half my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth."

"School gov'nors have bin told, o' course," said Hagrid miserably. "They reckon I started too big. Shoulda left hippogriffs fer later… done flobberworms or summat… Jus' thought it'd make a good firs' lesson…'S all my fault…"

"It's all Malfoy's fault, Hagrid!" said Hermione earnestly.

"We're witnesses," said Rachel. "You said hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It's Malfoy's problem that he wasn't listening. We'll tell Dumbledore what really happened."

"Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid, we'll back you up," said Ron.

Tears leaked out of the crinkled corners of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. He grabbed both Rachel and Ron and pulled them into a bone-breaking hug.

"I think you've had enough to drink, Hagrid," said Hermione firmly. She took the tankard from the table and went outside to empty it.

"Ar, maybe she's right," said Hagrid, letting go of Rachel and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Hermione unsteadily outside. They heard a loud splash.

"What's he done?" said Harry nervously as Hermione came back in with the empty tankard.

"Stuck his head in the water barrel," said Hermione, putting the tankard away.

Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

"Tha's better," he said, shaking his head like a dog and drenching them all. "Listen, it was good of yeh ter come an' see me, I really—"

Hagrid stopped dead, staring at Harry as though he'd only just realized he was there.

"WHAT D'YEH THINK YOU'RE DOIN', EH?" he roared, so suddenly that they jumped a foot in the air. "YEH'RE NOT TO GO WANDERIN' AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AN' YOU THREE! LETTIN' HIM!"

Hagrid strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door.

"C'mon!" Hagrid said angrily. "I'm takin' yer all back up ter school, an' don' let me catch yeh walkin' down ter see me after dark again. I'm not worth that!"