Chapter Twenty Three

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: Sorry for the delay in updating, but I've had the bad luck to be sick, flooded with homework, have several field trips, and just in general being very busy lately. Of course, May will be even worse with graduation...

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione traipsed down to see Hagrid after Harry (and team. But mostly Harry) had flattened Hufflepuff 400 to 230. It had been a long game, but then that was what Harry got for having the worst broom in the game when everyone else was on equal footing. Still, the look on Cedric's face when Harry swooped in and grabbed the Snitch from right behind Cedric's ear – where it had been for at least five minutes that Harry was aware of, it was like the Snitch was stalking the older boy or something.

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry greeted. "Did you see the game? Or, more specifically, did you see the way I totally trounced Cedric despite the fact that my broom really doesn't hold a candle to his?"

"O' course," Hagrid assured him. "Wouldn' miss it for the world."

"Oh please," Hermione said, annoyance clear on her face. "He has a Nimbus 2001. You have a Nimbus 2000. The two brooms came out within a year of each other. How much of a difference can there possibly be?"

The other four did not dignify that question with a response.

"Men," Hermione huffed.

"Right, because that's not sexist at all, Hermione," Neville said, rolling his eyes.

"What's the real reason you didn't get a Nimbus 2001, Harry?" Ron took the opportunity to ask.

"I'm holding out to make my godfather buy me a Firebolt next year," Harry confided.

Ron's brow wrinkled in confusion. "But isn't your godfather-"

"Yes," Harry said shortly. "Which is why he totally owes me years worth of Christmas presents. Honestly, he didn't even get me anything this year."

"But he's a mass murderer! And on the run!" Ron pointed out.

"What's this?" Hermione looked startled.

"How do you know abou' Black?" Hagrid demanded.

"Oh look, Fudge!" Harry said, for once glad to see the man. He was SO not looking forward to having this conversation a full year early. Or at all, for that matter.

"Where?" Ron asked eagerly. Harry wondered briefly why in the world he was so excited to see the rather incompetent and extremely pompous Minister of Magic and then he realized that Ron had completely misunderstood what he said because he was, as per usual, thinking with his stomach.

"Trust me, you probably don't want any if Hagrid made it," Neville whispered to him, to low for Hagrid to hear. "Did you mean food, Harry?"

"No, I meant the Minister of Magic," Harry explained.

Hermione sighed, obviously not believing him but deciding to humor him anyway. "Why would the Minister of Magic be outside of Hagrid's hut?" she asked patiently.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I don't know. It better not be what I think it is, though."

"Do yeh think they found out abou' the attacks?" Hagrid asked nervously.

"There's no proof," Harry was quick to reassure him. "Even if they did hear something, with our unpetrifaction rate, there's nothing to see and thus nothing they can do."

"But why would they come after Hagrid?" Hermione was puzzled but thinking hard.

"Because they're all a bunch of morons," Harry said simply. "What do you expect?"

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