Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

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 Harry. ‘You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It’s Malfoy’s problem 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 Harry 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 Harry 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 realised 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 TWO! 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!’

 
     
– CHAPTER SEVEN –
     
The Boggart in the Wardrobe
    Malfoy didn’t reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry’s opinion, as though he was the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
    ‘How is it, Draco?’ simpered Pansy Parkinson. ‘Does it hurt much?’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
    ‘Settle down, settle down,’ said Professor Snape idly.
    Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said ‘settle down’ if they ’d walked in late, he’d have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape’s classes; Snape was Head of Slytherin house, and generally favoured his own students before all others.
    They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.
    ‘Sir,’ Malfoy called, ‘sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm –’
    ‘Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,’ said Snape, without looking up.
    Ron went brick red.
    ‘There’s nothing wrong with your arm,’ he hissed at Malfoy.
    Malfoy smirked across the table.
    ‘Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots.’
    Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy’s roots towards him and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
    ‘Professor,’ drawled Malfoy, ‘Weasley’s mutilating my roots, sir.’
    Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
    ‘Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.’
    ‘But sir –!’
    Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.
    ‘Now,’ said Snape in his most dangerous voice.
    Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.
    ‘And, sir, I’ll need this Shrivelfig skinned,’ said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.
    ‘Potter, you can skin Malfoy’s Shrivelfig,’ said Snape, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.
    Harry took Malfoy’s Shrivelfig as Ron set about trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the Shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back