Book: Courage
Chapter 29
Word Count: 5210
When Harry, Layla, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Draco did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter.
"Ignore him," said Layla, who was right behind Harry. "Just ignore him, it's not worth it."
"Hey, Potter!" shrieked Pansy. "Potter! The dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"
Layla rolled her eyes and sat down beside George. Hermione sat beside her and Harry sat opposite her with Ron beside Harrry. Layla stared at all of the food, deciding that she wasn't hungry.
"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing then, over. "What's up with you, Harry?"
"Malfoy," said Ron, glaring over at the Slytherin table. George looked up in time to see Draco pretending to faint with terror 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 Draco.
"I wasn't too happy myself," said George. "They're horrible things, those dementors..."
"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?" said Fred. "I heard you got rid of one all on your own. Patronuses aren't taught until seventh year. How is it that a third year can cast one?"
"My dad taught me," said Layla vaguely with a shrug.
"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," said George.
"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"
"Ooh, good, we're starting some new subjects today," Hermione said happily. Layla peered over at Hermione's timetable, her eyes widening.
"Woah, how many classes are you taking this year, 'Mione? It looks like all of them! Surely some of those lessons will overlap."
"I'll manage," Hermione shrugged. Ron then checked his own timetable.
"We'd better go, look, Divination's at the top of North Tower. It'll take us ten minutes to get there."
They said their goodbyes to Fred and George and walked back through the Hall.
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 — short — cut," 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 atone wall.
"I think it's this way," said Layla, peering down the empty passage to the right.
"Can't be," said Ron. "That's south. Look, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window."
Layla glanced at the painting on the wall. A fat, dapple-grey pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. A moment later, a short, squat knight in a suit of armour had clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.
"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Harry, Layla, Ron, and Hermione. "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 Layla, taking advantage of the knight's exhaustion, "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.
"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, Layla, Ron, and Hermione climbed the tightly spiraling steps, getting dizzier and dizzier, until at last they heard the murmur of voices above them and knew they had reached 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 Ron nudged Layla and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.
"'Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher'," Layla read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"
As though in answer to her question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Layla's feet. Everyone got quiet.
"After you," said Harry, so Layla climbed the ladder first.
She emerged into the strangest-looking classroom she had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. it was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.
Harry and Ron appeared at Layla's shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers.
"Where is she?" Ron said.
A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.
"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."
Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.
"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Layla, Ron, and Hermione 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. "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 to this extraordinary pronouncement. 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. 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, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "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 nervously.
"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.
"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, one of our number will leave us forever."
A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.
"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender, 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."
Layla partnered up with Hermione, while Harry and Ron had had their teacups filled. They went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. They swilled the dregs around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.
"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom.
"Okay, 'Mione, this kind of looks like an apple, which means 'good knowledge'. No surprise there, brainiac," Layla chuckled. "But this here sort of looks like a kite, which means 'wishes will come true'."
"I like that, but this subject is starting to seem a bit rubbish. No books? Really?" Hermione huffed. "Anyway, you sort of have a snake, which means 'enemies of falsehood'. Have fun with that one. But across it, it kind of looks like a house, which means 'change; success'. Not sure what that really means."
As they continued, Professor Trelawney had walked over to Harry and Ron, causing the girls to look over.
"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone else went quiet to watch.
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 to Layla. Professor Trelawney overheard and stared at her. "Well, they do. Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."
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."
Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who 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 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.
Nearly everybody clapped their hands to their mouths in horror, but Layla and Hermione just exchanged unamused looks and rolled their eyes at their dramatic teacher.
"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!"
"I don't think it looks like a Grim," Hermione 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. Now nobody seemed to want to look at him.
"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.
"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, Layla, Ron, and Hermione descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair 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.
Professor McGonagall began to tell the class about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals), and then transformed herself in front of their eyes 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, but nobody spoke. Then Layla raised her hand.
"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 Lupin. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"
"Me," said Harry.
"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill 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, and they saw that her nostrils had gone 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."
Layla couldn't help but let out a laugh.
When the Transfiguration class had finished, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch.
"I'm not hungry. I think I'll go to the library to do some quick studying," said Layla. "I'll see you guys in Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon."
She then walked off. Once she had gone, Hermione turned to the boys as they headed into the hall.
"Do you think Layla is okay?"
"She seems fine," said Ron, barely paying attention as he eyed the cupcakes.
"Guys..." frowned Hermione. "When's the last time you've seen Layla eat?"
"What are you talking about?" asked Ron, piling lunch onto his plate. "She's with us every meal."
"Yes, but she doesn't eat," said Hermione, shooting a glare in Ron's direction. "She always makes an excuse like she's not hungry or has to study. This is our first day of lessons! Even I don't have anything to study yet."
"You have a point," said Harry. "We'll keep an eye on her, okay?"
"Okay," sighed Hermione.
Meanwhile, with Layla, she was on her way to the library when she heard a voice behind her.
"Layla!"
She spun around to see a familiar older Hufflepuff boy jogging towards her, causing her to immediately smile.
"Hey, Cedric."
"Hey," said Cedric with a smile of his own. "How are you? I haven't seen you much lately since..."
"You can say it, Cedric," said Layla with a light chuckle. "Since I was possessed by a literal preserved memory."
"Yeah," Cedric muttered. "It was nice exchanging letters over the summer though. Do you still want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"
"Of course," said Layla, her smile widening.
"Great. It's unlucky that the first Hogsmeade trip isn't until, like, November," said Cedric. "I rarely ever hang out with you anymore."
"We don't just have to hang out at Hogsmeade, you know," Layla pointed out. "I'll be in touch, okay? We can hang out soon."
"I'll hold you to that," said Cedric happily. "See you later, Layla."
"Bye, Cedric," and with that, Layla turned off and headed to the library.
An hour later at one o'clock, Layla headed down to Care of Magical Creatures. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot. She went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione, hurrying to catch up with them. They all smiled and greeted her, the four walking the rest of the way to Hagrid's hut together.
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, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.
"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.
"Eh?" said Hagrid.
"How do we open our books?" Draco repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Layla, had spelled their book shut with spellotape; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.
"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 Layla'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!" Draco sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"
"I — I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Layla.
"They are," Layla reassured, noticing Hagrid's nervous expression. "The books are great, Hagrid. They're definitely funny."
"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Draco. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off! Of course the fattie would find such violence amusing."
"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry angrily at the yet another body shaming insult towards Layla.
"Righ' then," said Hagrid, trying to diffuse the tension, shooting an apologetic look in Layla's direction, "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 Draco 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, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.
Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Layla had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.
"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?"
Layla could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was, half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the hippogriffs' gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.
"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, Layla, Ron, and Hermione, 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."
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.
"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. Even Harry, Layla, Ron, and Hermione had misgivings. The hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.
"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.
"I'll do it," said Layla, one of the reasons being that she loved animals, and another reason being that she wanted Hagrid to have the perfect first day of teaching.
She climbed over the paddock fence.
"Good, Layla!" roared Hagrid. "Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."
He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Draco's eyes were narrowed maliciously.
"Easy now, Layla," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink. Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much."
Buckbeak turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Layla with one fierce orange eye.
"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Layla... now, bow."
Layla slowly bowed, brushing her long brown hair behind her ears as she did so. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.
"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right — back away, now, Layla, easy does it—"
But then, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.
"Well done, Layla!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right — yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"
Layla smiled, her love for animals taking over as she walked fearlessly towards the hippogriff, patting the beak several times, and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.
The class broke into applause, all except for Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.
"Righ' then, Layla," said Hagrid. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him! Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint, an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that."
Layla put her foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted herself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up.
"Go on, then," roared Hagrid, slapping the hippogriff's hindquarters.
Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Layla, she just had time to seize the hippogriff around the neck before she was soaring upward.
Buckbeak flew Layla once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground. She felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground.
"Good work, Layla!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"
Emboldened by Layla's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Harry, Ron and Hermione all practiced on the chestnut, while Layla watched.
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.
"This is very easy," Draco drawled, loud enough for Layla to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Miss Gain-A-Few-Pounds-A-Day 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; Draco let out a highpitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Draco, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.
"I'm dying!" Draco 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—"
Layla ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Draco easily. As they passed, Layla saw that there was a long, deep gash on Draco's arm; blood splattered the grass and 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, who was in tears.
"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean. 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, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. The Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Layla, Ron, and Hermione proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.
"You think he'll be all right?" said Layla nervously.
"Why are you concerned about the guy who does nothing but insult your absolutely perfect body?" asked Hermione.
"The insults aren't that bad," muttered Layla. "I'm just worried. That gash looked nasty."
"He'll be fine. 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."
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.
"They'd better not," said Ron.
"Well, let me know if you find him," said Layla. "That whole incident with Malfoy has made me lose my appetite. I'm going to take a nap. See you guys later."
As she left, all three of her friends watched her walk away, before Hermione turned to the boys.
"See what I mean now?"
"Yep. Even I see it," said Ron, concerned. "D'you think Malfoy's insults have gotten to her a little too much?"
"I hope not," said Harry. "Because there will be hell to pay if Malfoy's the reason that Layla's not eating."
"Guys, remember that her dad works here now," Hermione mentioned. "We can just mention it to him after this year's first Defence Against the Dark Arts class."