A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter’s eyes widened behind her jeweled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.
“Harry!” she said, beaming. “How lovely! Why don’t you come and join?”
“I wouldn’t come near you with a ten foot broomstick,” said Harry furiously. “What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?”
Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrows.
“Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my—”
“Who cares if he’s half giant?” Harry shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with him!”
The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing.
Rita Skeeter’s smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and said, “How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?”
Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade.
“You horrible woman,” she said, through gritted teeth, “you don’t care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, wont they? Even Ludo Bagman—”
“Sit down, you silly little girl, and don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. “I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl… not that it needs it—” she added, eyeing Hermione’s bushy hair.
“Let’s go,” said Hermione, “c’mon, Harry—Ron…”
They left; many people were staring at them as they went. Harry glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter’s Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table.
“She’ll be after you next, Hermione,” said Ron in a low and worried voice as they walked quickly back up the street.
“Let her try!” said Hermione defiantly; she was shaking with rage. “I’ll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I’ll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid…”
“You don’t want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter,” said Ron nervously. “I’m serious, Hermione, she’ll dig up something on you—”
“My parents don’t read the Daily Prophet. She can’t scare me into hiding!” said Hermione, now striding along so fast that it was all Harry and Ron could do to keep up with her. The last time Harry had seen Hermione in a rage like this, she had hit Draco Malfoy around the face. “And Hagrid isn’t hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!”
Breaking into a run, she led them all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid’s cabin.