Mass Collision

15. Hagrid

The next day we had our first class of Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid. We had to push through the snow to get down to the edge of the forbidden forest. I hate snow, it's cold and it's wet. Hagrid himself looked very bruised and beaten. Almost like he had just gotten into a fight.

"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark. . . ."

"What prefers the dark?" I heard Malfoy say sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his voice. "What did he say prefers the dark — did you hear?"

"What, you're scared of the dark Malfoy?" I asked, teasing.

"You would too if you knew what was in there," he snapped at me, almost tripping in the snow.

"Ready?" said Hagrid happily, looking around at the class. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em —"

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced now. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

"Okay, Draco. I think that's enough, I doubt he's actually going to put us in danger," I roll my eyes and look at Blaise and Theo who look iffy about it. Well, maybe not.

"Exactly. 'Course they're trained," Hagrid scowled at him. "I haven' seen yer here before. Who a' ya?"

"Natalia Di Angelo," I answered somewhat politely and he looked shocked.

"Nice to me' ya," he nodded before continuing our walk.

"So what happened to your face, then?" demanded Malfoy.

"Mind yer own business!" said Hagrid, angrily. "Now if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!" He turned and strode straight into the forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. I doubt anyone wanted to get left behind here.

We walked for about ten minutes until we reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow on the ground at all. Hagrid deposited his half a cow with a grunt on the ground, stepped back, and turned to face his class again, most of whom were creeping toward him from tree to tree, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," said Hagrid encouragingly. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me. . . ."

He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face, and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed; most of them looked too scared to make a sound.

Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. I gasped a little as I saw it.

"Thestrals," I whispered. No one heard me as they watched them eat the meat. Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant. Oh right, they can't see them.