The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|85| O.W.L.s

Surprisingly enough, Umbridge didn't cancel the final Quidditch game. Even though I thought it won't have made a difference because our team properly sucked, Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup against Ravenclaw; not only did Ron save several Quaffles from going into our hoops, but I also caught the Golden Snitch!

As Ron and I flew around in delight, we heard the new version of Weasley is Our King:

"Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He didn't let the Quaffle in,

Weasley is our King

Weasley can save anything,

He never leaves a single ring

That's why Gryffindors all sing:

Weasley is our King!"

Outside of underneath the shade of a beech tree, we sat with our books spread as Ron explained his first save of the match for what he'll like the dozenth time.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly, savoring the words, "we won. Did you see the look on Chang's face when Maisey got the Snitch right out from under her nose?"

"I suppose she cried, did she?" said Harry bitterly.

"Well, yeah— more out of temper than anything, though..." I frowned slightly. "But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?"

"Er—" said Harry.

"Well, actually...no, Maisey," said Hermione with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at me apologetically. "As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal."

Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment.

"You didn't watch?" he said faintly, looking from one to the other. "You didn't see me make any of those saves?"

"Well— no," said Hermione, stretching out a placatory hand toward him. "But Ron, we didn't want to leave— we had to!"

"Yeah?" said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. "How come?"

"It was Hagrid," said Harry. "He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets..."

The story they told was done in five minutes, by the end of which our indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity.

"He brought one back and hid it in the forest?" I gasped.

"Yep," said Harry grimly.

"No," said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. "No, he can't have—"

"Well, he has," said Hermione firmly. "Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me," she snorted, "as Hermy."

Ron gave a nervous laugh.

"And Hagrid wants us to...?"

"Teach him English, yeah," said Harry.

"He's lost his mind," I said in an almost awed voice.

"Yes," said Hermione irritably, turning a page of Intermediate Transfiguration and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses. "Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise."